#blue salt knives

[punk-in-docs]

A song of liars and beggars: part II

— Emperor Geta x Reader (Salacia)

— 5.3k words.

— Read all parts here: Part I — Part II — Part III — Part IV — Part V

Summary: You were raised outside of this Rome. Born into peace. To know of fathomless deep seas, and skies so big, they wrapped around your whole sight. The way that at night all you can smell are lemon trees kissed by salt. The jasmine plants wound around the white walls of the villa. Salacia. And now you are sent to Rome for your father in the Senate. There you will catch the attention of Geta; in all the wrong and darkest of ways— any reblog and comments are greatly appreciated 💙💙💙

TW: for this chapter; mainly violence and cruelty and mentions of death/imprisonment. also this has turned long winded im so sorry- i wish i could just bang out some gratuitous smut but noooo i need 7k of angst before penetration apparently --

The cell you are thrown into is poky small.

When the guards push you into it, you stumble and you fall. Stone breaks your landing. Collapsing in the dusty dirt. Soiling your pretty blue dress. The sea blue churned into mud. Into filth. Spoiled tide.

Bloody grit and sand sticking to your chin that still drips blood. Ichor dripped on your silk chest. Lip throbbing. Body bruised into the colour of nightshade petals.

You twist back, eyes blurred with tears, to see the dark expression under the Roman guards helmet.

Who spits at your feet and calls you a traitorous whore. He was the same one whose ring of fingertip bruises now circled your upper arm. Even though you were in chains.

Your surroundings are grim. There’s no window. No bearings. A bucket with filthy stagnant water sits in the corner.

The air is stale. Packed close and scorching. It reeks of piss and decay. Necrosis. Festering. Yellow bleached skulls. You hear the wailing shouts of men. The rattle of chains. You will be left down here until they come to take you. In whatever form that may be. Beheading. Or a stoning.

Maybe the Emperors really are gods. Those twin golden growling wolves. And now they’ve thrown you down to the underworld. Left you down here with the dying and the dirt and the vermin for company.

The walls are grimy stone, and strung with chains. Torches the only lick of civilised orange light in these otherwise miserable caverns. Rats creep along the floors - the scurry and click of claws. Not that they’ll find any scrap of food near here. There’s none to be had. Not even corpses. Death isn’t merciful enough to visit here.

Bile coats the back of your tongue. Sour and acetic. The men in the cells opposite you m, sneer and call filthy propositions in the dark. Dark so thick it was like wool. Ask to see under your pretty dress. Leering at you. Puckering kisses.

You are a rare drop of clean ocean in this savagery to them. Pure. A blue crocus blossoming in a crack in the barren dessert. Wash away the sin. Their rotten teeth shine in the dark like knives. Hungry and waiting.

You curl into a ball in the corner. Bring your knees to your chest. Cower in the shadows as the rats run past your feet. Clammy tails flicking over your toes.

You sob quietly. Arms folded. One smashed elbow drying to sticky blood, stuck with grit from your collapse.

Your father was torn away before you could see what happened or where they took him. You heard his shouts at Macrinus, his begging, but couldn’t see where he was taken. You couldn’t bear thinking about the alternative.

Your brothers body will be laying in a paupers grave somewhere you’ll never know. Never be able to go and lay orange gladiolus flowers before his headstone. Forgotten. Your mother will be told nothing of this- of you. Of the supposed treason-

Or maybe a garrison of soldiers were already marching on their way to deliver news. To slaughter the traitors family in that white villa by the sea. Smear crimson up the walls- droplets of red splashed on the jasmine petals. You think of the linen shifts your sisters ramble around in. You think how the perfect hues of soft blues and olives greens will be ruined with the garish red of blood-

You squeeze your eyes shut. Drops of salty ocean squeezing down your cheeks. And even that is of no use to you now. Landed sea nymph. Away from the oceans call. And now you’re bound for desolation. Gasping. Dying. Dragged to land by men who want to pick at your scales and leave you raw, bare.

You never should’ve left home. Not for a distant hollow man and his even emptier words.

Sleep doesn’t come to you. Nor are you awake. You slouch, curled on the cold dirty floor and envelop yourself into the grit and dirt. Abrasive on your soft milk-and-honey skin. The cornflower blue of your dress matted with mucky earth.

You enter a state between waking and sleep. A shallow one, spliced with sliced necks, pooling blood on biscuit coloured sand, and your brothers final cry.

Sounds start chipping at you. The slap of metal. Clicking and shuffling steps.

A jolt across your cell rouses you from your purgatory. Head snapping up on your shoulders. When you accustomed your eyes to the dim, the sight of the person unlocking your cell, makes your stomach plummet.

General Acacius.

There’s no mistaking him for another. That unmistakably noble profile. The firm set of his brow. His aquiline nose. The curl and bend of his greying hair. The way he looks at you - it might just be the kindest thing you’ve been awarded in this abrasive hell you find yourself in.

You raise to your wobbly feet. Heart felt like it had taken to thudding in your throat. Choking tempo as it beats there. Muscle thick and ticking on the back of your tongue.

One thought echoed around your mind; this was to be the path to your death.

You were being led by the General of the armies of Rome. It seemed a grand imposition for escorting a mere slip of a traitor to her death.

War has thickened his body. Muscular arms swing from a wide back and shoulders. Sun weathered skin which spoke of his time out in the elements, fighting for the glories and victories of Rome. Age lay in the silver threaded though his hair. The muted pain in his gait of past injuries catching up with him. Body littered with scars that probably ache and tug. Mars made flesh. Glory for Rome. Victory.

You swallowed. Throat dry. Easing your way to the door on uncertain feet. Hands clasped in chains still. They feel heavy as mountains to carry along. He’s come with guards. Four of them. Armed and marching to the beat of his strides. A valorous man indeed.

You step close to the heavily armoured man. Salty tears leaking down your cheeks that you don’t care to bat away. Atleast one spec of home will cling to your skin when life is gone. Even if it is only your silly scared tears.

He leans close to you when you come to the door

Suddenly a warm hand - calluses and hard furrows that only come from years of grasping a sword hilt - is around your forearm to steady. He unlocks the iron heavy chains and cuffs that surround your wrists. The chafing welts they left circling your wrists as the only impression of your imprisonment.

It’s the kindest touch you’ve felt in what seems like years.

You look at him with incredulity. He claims it all off you so easily. You were easy to devour. Every emotion worn open on your face.

Your lashes glued together with tears. Eyes so wide. Big and shining and they must reflect spring sun off beaded waves like a blanket of sapphires. A question lingers, tucked back shyly behind your teeth. Unable to wander off the curl of your tongue.

Why are you unlocking my hands?

He tilts his head at you. It’s almost chiding.

An unexpected warmth flows from his dark eyes. It’s too dark down here in this filthy stuffy pit to discern their colour. They swing somewhere between bronze and amber.

There is a mercy in them, a mercy to him, you’ve seldom seen anywhere else. Let alone a man as slaked in blood as he is.

Maybe it’s mercy- more likely that it’s pity.

He throws the shackles aside to the guard. Eyes for a long moment the way the iron has cut into your wrists. Raw skin. Damaging such a fine beautifully untouched creature.

He’s certain there’s worse damage to come to you.

His voice when he speaks is honey thick. Deep as it carved down all the rock walls around you. Louder than the clanking of chains and the wails from prisoners. Whom, you noticed, suddenly quieted down. They were whipped when they spoke up, you guess. So they go quiet. Like cowed dogs.

“I’ve slaughtered many a traitor in my time. You don’t seem a danger to me, or my men.” He observed. It’s both a warning and a comment.

It’s ridiculous really. The thought you could be a threat. All slippery, skin soft and coveted as a purely formed ocean pearl.

When you are in fact shivering in a silky thin dress the colour of harmless cornflowers. Huddled in your cell corner gently spilling tears. No hint of resistance or fiery hatred. No storm to be found here in your veins that houses entire oceans and their tempestuous wrath.

He knows innocence when he sees it. That rare, very rare, taste that clings to his tongue like sugary sweet ripe fruit. Something to cut and slice through all the ichor and viscera he all too well knows the flavour of. There’s a calmness to you. A damned sort of acceptance. Calm as still waters.

“Come.” He tilts his head. “The likes of you doesn’t belong down here.” You with your stock of noble blood, shouldn’t perish forgotten in these filthy caverns.

He walks to the pathway that you vaguely recall you were led down. The one that ascends steps and up into daylight. Out from the dust and the dirt and the still living bones of the trapped and the damned.

“General. Pray tell me. Is my father dead?” You ask. Whisper a pathetic imitation of your voice. Raw and weak. Choking on the unknown.

His face is stiff. He doesn’t seem inclined to reply.

“I cannot give you answers.” He chides. He turned his back to you. And his brute tone slaughtered any further enquiry you may have felt compelled to make.

You shrink down as you fell into step. Being led in your dirty dress, littered in cuts and scrapes.

Numerous guards form a metal lined wall around and behind you. Shields and swords and the metal clink of their steps. Trapping you. Armoured cage for a pretty captive. You wince when the new sunlight hits your eyes. Bright and acidic. Gulp for thick air that meets your lungs like ambrosia.

You walk and follow, silently. Waiting to come to the place you’d die.

Expecting to be led to gallows. Or an executioners block. Maybe even a court lined with people, one where you’d be trialed to death for a plot you’d no idea even existed. Maybe you’d be shoved into the coliseum on the next fight to be mauled to shreds by lions. Gouged by teeth and claw. Die screaming in the same dirt as your brother did.

It doesn’t come. None of that comes.

Your surroundings change again and you find yourself outside the grand walls of the coliseum. Looking up at the huge enormity of its powerful walls. The golden stone standing proud against the searing blue sky.

You’re marched across the dusty dirt of a yard, to yet another cage; this one held bars just like your previous one. A cage built on the back of a cart that has two horses ready to pull it along the capital roads. The general opens the barred door and gestures guards in around you.

One of the soldiers hit you forwards with a harsh shove. The back of his sword hilt. A hard enough shove for you to know it would purple to a bruise soon enough. Mulberry purple staining your skin at the back of your hip. You barely even yelp.

The general admonishes the soldier harshly for his rough treatment. You were to be brought - unmolested.

A word the Emperor had ordered with a growing wolfish grin.

“Where am I being taken?” You dare ask. Words crack out your throat. Unused. Thirsty. Timid. Ocean starved. All this dry land is making you dizzy and miserable.

He explained. Tone grave. Before you are pulled inside the bars. Caged once more.

“You’ve been summoned.”

“By whom?” You seek.

His eyes weight into you. Wrapped in pity and severity. His words clang around your head. Coffin nails. Just like bars he shut around you.

“You’ve been requested by the Emperor himself.”

~

You struggle to comprehend the enormity of the palace before you.

Palatine hill boasted of the richest and finest palaces in all of Rome. Including the imperial palace. The huge sprawling building. The importance and grandeur of these halls weighted on you like tonne heavy rocks.

You feel like a smear of dirt among these polished white walls and halls. Crawling with servants and guards. Stuffed with so much riches and finery. You’ve heard tale of how Emperors were hand picked by the gods. They were gods to the people they reigned over.

You are escorted once again out of a yard and into this place you’d heard only grand things about. Marched along corridors longer than you’d ever known. You saw fountains spitting streams of clear crystalline water and imperial gardens with huge tropical plants. Statues of marble and tiled mosaic floors that shine as if recently scrubbed.

Guards at every door. Servants clad in cloth finer than you’ve ever owned - or touched - they carry huge platters of bread or bowls spilling over with plump fruits. Large amphora jugs of wine held aloft in careful hands. This seemed like a luxurious heaven. You wondered if you’d see clouds, goddesses and sun beams even from your lowly mortal perch.

The guards keep you in step. Hauled along so fast you feel blisters aching at the balls of your feet. As you’re traipsed in. Bloodied and low. Beaten down. Your split lip has dried to a cut. You worry it with your tongue. The little whip cracks of pain a reminder of your mortality - one you’re certain you will be relieved of soon.

You are brought to a set of huge imperial doors by the general. Who is bid to enter right away.

Your eyes don’t know where to settle first; the room is one of the richest displays you’ve ever seen. Orange fabric the colour of vibrant mandarins, hangs in drapes over the open arches and doorways. Mosiac floors polished to a shine. There’s gold and marble statues and plinths. Paintings in dark deep colours of battle scenes. Swords and blood and male glory. As if it had come to life right before your eyes. This room is threaded with gold and devotion to male gods.

As is the man who sits leisurely awaiting you on a padded lectus. One spilling with tasseled silken cushions to soften his seat. Emperor Geta.

His robes were the same as when you last saw him. Dark jewel colours of black and blue. Gems cast in gold on each finger. Dark cloths with gold items of jewellery on his breast in the form of a broach. So much gold you don’t now where to test your eyes first.

Maybe he is a god. He certainly has all the riches of one. Stood before you as if he were Jupiter and all his delights. Thunderbolts seeping from his powerful fingers.

A golden crown of laurels ringing his light waved hair. His eyes was where true darkness laid; dark kohl ringing eyes the colour of the darkest Umbrian. Earth of shadow.

He was idly picking at food laid on a rose petal strewn table before him. You’ve never seen an offering of food so large and all for one. Cups of wine. Bread. Dried Fruit and a tiered stand flowing with fresh fruit. Some cheeses. Meats and fish. All laid on plates for him to pick over and discard, or saviour at his behest.

You wonder which category you’d fall into- the former appears the more likely.

Your stomach pangs for the smell of the freshly baked bread. The sweetness of the fruit. The tart wine. Tongue dry as sand and sluggish in your mouth.

“There you are. My little sea nymph.” He sneers over at you. One side of his lip curls upwards.

In panic, you bend the knee and bow your head, subservient, meek, and that makes him smile more.

He’s snapped his regal bejewelled fingers and had you bought to him. Bloodied and blinking dust out your eyes. Dirt stroked on your once fine dress. It now hangs in shredded tatters at the hem by your sandals. Blood spots dried like rusted petals. Brutal handling from guards lay in the bruises now scattering your lovely arms and the welts banding your wrists.

You want to cower behind the wall of guards. But you are rudely thrown forwards. Those shadowy eyes trace over your poorly clad form; you do feel like a minuscule scrap of dirt. A crack in a looking glass. A tarnish on something gleaming golden. The smear of imperfection allowed to exist in this heavenly palace.

He sees your hands are loose by your sides; unbound.

“Why is she not in chains, General? Have we stopped chaining our prisoners” He asks. Ire woven into his words. Eyes unflinching and hard and he scowls at Acacius. Who remained unmoved even in the face of his petulant wrath.

“I saw no need to chain her. Emperor. Such a woman in her position could surely not be a threat to you.” It’s a barb. A small sensible thorn, perhaps.

You flick your eyes across to the General.

“I didn’t even have to draw my sword or threaten her. She came willingly.” He tells his Emperor.

Like a sweetly led fool. A sacrificial creature led blindly to her own slaughter.

The guards stand to attention. Unwavering. Wall of armour and swords around your back as you cower. Eyes cast to the floor as you’re being discussed like a slab of meat. Something without autonomy or feeling.

You can feel Getas eyes on you still. Hard and weighty as warm metal. Searing into your skin. The way livestock are branded.

Those eyes are unrelenting. Violating. Scouring you up and down some more. Inspecting the span of your hips. The dip of your waist. The fall of your chest. Plump of your breasts and hips. The once pristine coil of your knotted hair.

Goddesses would envy you. The furies would want to tear down your beauty and goodness in wrath. Scratch out your eyes. Shear your hair. Anything to steal the golden thread of goodness from you.

Juno had blessed you and kept you indeed. Like you’re fresh out of her temple and sparkling with promise. He knew it the second he saw you. He made up his mind to have you then.

You had something. Something wrapped inside yourself like a shell protecting a pearl. Something good and virtuous. He wanted you all for himself.

If he was good as a god, then blessing himself with a wife who was a gift from the most beloved goddess was his right.

He can smell lemons and salt. And wondered if he inhaled the nubile skin of your neck and hair if then he’d find the source of it. Made him want to bite down on that supple neck and leave his mark-

“An unlikely source for a traitor do you not think so, General?” He asks.

General doesn’t answer but his expression is very telling. “My spies tell me she was not in the capital for two days before the suspected treason.” He offers.

Your stomach lurches, manages to tie itself into knots. Clammy sweat prickles your brow and your neck.

“Maybe she wasn’t aware of the plot. An unwilling participant dragged into the sordid scheme.” Geta speculates.

No answer comes from you still.

“Is she mute? I certainly heard her screams well enough at the coliseum.” He mocks. Impatient.

“Speak. Your Emperor demands it.” The General barks at you. You flinch at his sudden raised voice. Finally trailing your eyes from the mosaic tiles.

“I am not mute. Your majesty.” You explain. Feeling the tickle of humiliated tears at your eyes.

“I can offer no plea for innocence, except the truth that I had no knowledge as to my fathers schemes.”

Because no such schemes existed. Macrinus should be here in chains instead of you. The lying snake. He orchestrated the whole thing.

Geta savours your words. Drinks them in the way he’d taste wine. Rolls them around in his mouth.

He merely nods slightly. You hold your breath for his response.

“Come.” He sneers. “There’s something I want you to see.”

He guides you across to the huge marble pillars which guarded the open mouth of the balcony.

You walk behind him and come to the balustrade of white marble. Peering over the ledge. Out into the courtyard below where a cluster of soldiers and horses are gathered close.

“The soldiers will ride on my command.” He tells you. Sick delight in the power he wields.

When they pull away, and the sight below is exposed to you, your entire body wrenches forwards. Desperation grips you violently. A cry shattered out your throat.

They were going to quarter your father before your very eyes.

He stood, small and beaten, blood pouring from a gash to his head, in a filthy cloth tunic, because they’d humiliated him. Had him stripped of his noble senate robes.

His limbs each tied to separate riders on separate horses. When they galloped off in different directions, he would be torn to pieces. Barbaric.

Through a blackened eye and a swollen brow your father gazes up at you. Despair on his face. A once strong man brought so very low. It wounds you.

Geta is drinking in your every expression. The full horror and pain writ across your pretty face.

“No. No, mercy, please. Your majesty. I beg of you. Mercy.” You babble.

Eyes wide with desperation. Voice breaking as surely as your heart was. Cracking in two in your chest. Sharp as glass shards. Clinking to pieces sharp enough to make your insides bleed anew.

“Why should I spare a liar? Salacia?” He asks you. “Why should I not make an example of what happens to traitors in my court…” He demands. Eyes locked on you.

“He’s offered me things I don’t want or need to delay his death. Money. Information. I cannot help but feel it’s inevitably drawn him closer to it.”

He raises his hand, calmly. You sob. The riders bolt to attention. One more move and that would be it.

You flew for him. Unrestrained. Desperate. Willing to beg on your knees if needs be. You put yourself in front of him. Put your hands to him.

The General and his guards drew swords and came close. Geta turned and and ushered them back with a harsh wave of his fingers. He was enjoying this too much. The nature of despair- the clammy stench of desperation pouring off you like ocean waves.

You could only think of one instance that might appease his lust for blood-

Dying in the place of your elder for his crimes was all you had. All you clutched in your empty injured hands.

“Let me take his place. Put the bonds on me instead. Let me take his punishment. Make me the example.” You beg. Tears shiver and fall down your cheeks. Burning drips of salt spear at your lash-line.

In your desperation you cling to Getas chest. Your nails raking gold and the fine threads of the fabric coat he wore. He didn’t seem to mind. He seemed amused by it.

“Little Salacia.” The way he used your name with a brazenly satisfied smirk altered something in you.

An arm winds itself around your hip. Cups the back. Pressed a bruise that you want to hiss in pain at. But can’t.

His other hand rings your neck. Ghosts his thumb over the curve of your chin. Smearing tears with the gold and jewels on his fingers. You gasp. Air emptying out your lungs in one fell swoop.

“You have so much more to offer your Emperor than your death.” He says quietly. His meaning became intimate. Wrapped in insinuation.

Your mouth opened, no sound came. Your lower lip trembles. You glance down at your father who is crying. Straining, wrenching forwards at his bonds. Desperate to keep you from this.

Geta takes his hand and runs his hand through one knotted lock of it for a moment. Leaning in to savour the smell of you. He moans with it.

Definitely lemons. Mixed with something briny salt, the ocean. In odes to your name.

Your father sees this. The closeness. The insulation that this man would take you. He shouts from his bonds below. Begging.

“By the gods, spare her.” He cries.

“Not my daughter. It is my crime. Take me. I am here. Take me!”

With your father and oldest brother dead, your mothers and sisters would be destitute. They would be reduced to beggars. Brought low. With him alive they were respectable- reduced in honour perhaps, but at least they’d live.

Tears bite at your eyes. You let them. Blink them away.

“What’s say you? My patience is wearing thin…” Geta bullies. Hand dropping from your hair.

It pushes you to act.

“Servitude of my body. I will enslave myself to your every whim. Emperor.” You say through tears. Every sordid whim.

“Exile him.” Youoffer.

Geta’s eyes gleam to that. Intrigued. You would exile and dishonour your own father?

“Exile him from Rome and the Senate, and send him back to Corsica to be with my mother and sisters. Where he is needed.” You implore.

“And what of you, how will you serve me?” He drawls.

“I will stay here and act as your servant in whatever manner you wish.” You accept.

“I have servants. Little nymph. I don’t require any more servants. I don’t need whores or courtesans. What I do require, however, is a wife. One who will give me strong heirs.” He smiles. Clutching your hip in a strong, thick fingered hand.

Your throat constricts. Tears squeeze. As if he’s fisted a hand around your throat and squeezed and choked until you gave. Melted into his hands pliant.

Geta has you exactly where he wanted you. As he planned.

“I need your word you’ll spare him if I agree.” You counter. Eyes hard as diamond tips. Still watery and half logged in tears.

“My word is bond. He will leave this city unharmed.” He assures. Displeased at your doubt.

Clever little nymph, too. To bargain with a god.

Asking an Emperor like him to pledge his fealty. Were you any other commoner he’d have your tongue cut out for that insolence.

Then again, cornered creatures will snap and bite and claw for survival. They will do anything.

“Then I agree.” You cry. “I accept.”

His smirk grows. Wolfish. Unsticking a coil of hair from the blood on your cheek. And he’s close. Too close for your comfort.

“You will be my Empress.” He decides.

“My wife and my property. I will own you in every manner there is. You will give me healthy sons that will dethrone my brother.”

Those words make you shrivel inside.

What have you just agreed to. You may have delayed your fathers demise. But it appears you’ve just turned the sword aimed his way to your belly. Chalked a target on your own back instead- an eye for an eye-

He turns, keeping you in his hold, he lowers his hand.

“Exile that snake out of Rome. This instant-“ He orders sharply. “Take him to the city walls and tell him never to return or I will have his head on a platter for me and my wife.”

You watch with thinly veiled relief as the guards come in to cut his bonds and drag him by the collar.

You want to run to him. You want to embrace him and tell him to return to mother with kind words and love. He is dragged away out of sight.

Bleeding and battered. But safe.

You lock eyes. Same colour as yours, shaded ocean, surrounded by bloated skin and blood sheeting his face. Cut with paths of tears rolling down, before he is gruffly marched away. Dazed, bound, and bleeding. He is choking on his sobs too.

You didn’t even get to say goodbye. Nothing. No familial words. No kindness.

He was torn from you. Now your every whim is stolen away. Dictated by this man. This cruel stranger. One who would bed you and keep you cowed like a broodmare.

You stood there. Watching down on the scuffled marks in the dirt where he’d once been. Dust clouding. Now empty. It seemed like an illusion. Had it all just passed like air. Like a warm sea breeze. Your life altered in one brief moment of mercy and begging.

Geta turns to his General. “You are dismissed. Leave. Go win my wars.” He sneers curtly.

Acacius took his leave with a frown and a bow. Look directed to you as he did. “Emperor. Empress.”

The Emperor snapped his fingers. And within seconds, servants scurried silently from other rooms. A handful of maidens came. Long hair unbound. Robes of orange and blue. He snapped his orders at them. They folded their hands in front of themselves. Heads low as they obeyed.

“Escort my new bride to her chambers. Have her bathed and made presentable. Put her in something decent. We will marry at dusk.” He informs. Glancing you up and down with a leer.

“Then she will grace my bed. Doing her duty like a proper wife.”

He strides over to you where you stand on the balcony, the marble thing holding you up. All strength sapped. Your knees and arms and bones were water. Not marrow.

It was always foam whipped off the waves that made you up. And now you sagged with it. Plaint and drowning. A sad drowned maiden in her brook. A doomed saint of the sea.

“Leave her hair unbound. I like it down.” He orders. Wrenching his hand to the back of your neck. You wither under his touch. He senses this.

“Be grateful. I spared your filthy treasonous father. But I can still make your existence an unpleasant one if I choose.” He warns.

He leans close to claim your mouth in a kiss so sudden and brazen it makes you weak.

His lips are pillow soft and anything but delicate. His tongue seeks your mouth, licks the blood off the healing cut. Moans sordidly when he does. He kisses like a starving hound.

A trail of spit connects your mouths when he pulls away. He smears it to your chin with a finger. Rubs his essence into your skin to stay forever stained.

“I eagerly await to taste more of you later. Empress. Don’t disappoint me. It’s not a wrath you want to risk.”

“Yes, Emperor.” You sigh.

He leaves you so quick, you almost keel over. The servants wait patiently to escort you out in his absence.

In the faraway sky, over the capital, new clouds sag and bloat. Darkly stalking across the once clear blue. The sky turns to grey and churning clouds. It’s too bad you couldn’t see the sea. You had a feeling there would thrashing, heaving storms and waves double the size of these damned palace walls.

Thunder crashes in the distant gathering dark. The ocean wanted you back. Neptune’s rage for the loss of you. You picture home. Humble white walls. The wind so fierce it ripped petals clean off the climbing vines of jasmine. The lemon trees swaying and rocked violently. News of treason and abduction reaching your sisters’ horrified ears. Your mothers cries in situ with the storm.

You watch at the sky until rain pelts the marble walls like lashes. Rain dots your skin. Cold stroking your hair and shoulders. Marring dark blue arrows down your ruined dress. Maybe you’re grieving-

A servant girl has to hook a hand on your shoulder and kindly try to urge you inside. Your tears entwined with the howling rain. It feels like that’s all that’s left of you.

~

Tagging in the hopes this finds its way to the right people- thank you--

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[pomegraphy]

Lady Selene,

Goddess of

The Lunar Month

The Greek months start with the new moon and were then divided into three ten day periods. The first ten days were presided over by the waxing moon, the next ten were the near full and full moon, and the last ten was the waning moon. Festivals including the lucky and unlucky days of the month were measured in the cycles of the moon.

Evelyn-White. "Long-winged Meme... at eventime in the mid-month: then her great orbit is full and then her beams shine brightest as she increases. So she is sure token and a sign to mortal men" (Homeric Hymn, 32 to Selene: C7th- 4th B.C.)

Childbirth

Pregnancies were commonly measured in lunar months, so Lady Selene had a natural association with childbirth.

Timotheus. "Through the blue-black vault of the starts and of Selana who gives swift childbirth." (Campbell Vol. Greek Lyric V, Frag 803: C5th B.C.)

Dew

The moon was believed to nourish plants and animals with her dew. Lady Selene was associated with Ariadne, wife of Dionysus as the goddess of nourishing.

Cicero. "Luna the Moon's course also has a sort of winter and summer solstice; and she emits many streams of influence, which supply animal creatures with nourishment and stimulate their growth and which cause plants to flourish and attain maturity." (De Natura Deorum, 2.14: 45 B.C.)

and the Moon

Tryphiodorus. "When Mene (the Moon) [Selene], full with grey fire, gilds with her face the gleaming heaven: not when, sharpening her pointed horns, she first shines, rising in the shadowless dusk of the month, but when, orbing the round radiance of her eye, she draws to herself the reflected rays of the sun." (The Taking of Ilias, 514:C6th A.D.)

Who is Selene?

The titan goddess of the moon. She was depicted as a woman riding a sidesaddle on a horse. Her lunar crescent was set upon her head as a crown. She was said to sometimes drive a team of oxen and her lunar crescent was likened to a pair of bull's horns.

Symbolisms of Selene

Crystal: Moonstone

Colors: Silver, Grey-white, and white

Day of the week: Monday

Scents/Flowers: Myrtle, willow, white poppy, white rose, and wall flower.

Animals: Bulls and horses

Offerings

Silver jewelry, curved crescent knives, silver/white coins, silver/white candles, cups of (salt) water, seed pods, mirrors, white flowers, any sea/tide related offerings, mooncakes, writing hymns.

Ways to worship

Wearing silver jewelry

Wearing moon colored clothing

New Moon: banishing and undoing things.

Waxing Moon: offerings that relate to things you want more of. Great time for offerings

Full Moon: Harvest what you've been working on

Waning Moon: leave offerings that you want less of.

Taking items from your altar outside or on a windowsill during a full moon.

Cleansing the altar and offering items with water charged with moonlight during a new moon.

Going for a walk under the moonlight(with safety precautions)

Talking to the moon

Learning astrology

Stargazing

Meditation at night.

[archesnalleyways]

you should really expand on the thought of having to suck rick’s cock at gun point like I’m salivating thinking about it

Teehee 🤭

requests are open, we are so back

Warning: contains guns, other weaponry, non-con/dub-con

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT

You’ve moved away from your basecamp alone, in desperate need for some cans of food. The supermarket looks pretty bolted up but you spotted a inconspicuous window high up on a wall and decided to try your luck. Some shelves were tipped over, some broken, but as you worked your way through you found a storage room.

Your eyes spotted a cardboard box and in your hungry, desperate state you just dropped your gear and started to rummage through it. In the damp box there was a load of tin-cans, some leaking but multiple intact. Beside you on the floor you started to pile up the useful ones, trying to read some of the drooping labels.

But then you hear a gun click behind you. The blood freezes in your veins and one hundred scenarios flash before your eyes,

“Drop the cans” a husky voice states.

Your hands instinctively let go of the food, brain jumping from the fear of being shot, to your weapons being three feet behind you, to the hunger residing in your gut. Lifting your arms up in the air the show that you’re unarmed.

“Now turn around, slowly.”

You start to rise up but you hear the man behind you tut.

“Stay down.”

The pang of humiliation is faint in contrast to the fear, but it’s still there. But you listen and spin around, still on your knees, and turn to see a tall man pointing a gun straight at you. There’s a shotgun slung over his back, multiple knives strapped to his body and his blue eyes trained at your every movement.

“Aren’t you a pretty lil thing?” He says with a southern drawl, looking you over once before focusing on the box slightly behind you.

An old, ragged tote is thrown to your knees as he uses the mouth of the gun to point at you and then the food.

“Pack everything edible in that bag, now.”

Your hands made quick work of piling the cans, sorting out the already opened ones onto the side. Your eyes leave the food for a second to look over at the man again. He lifts an eyebrow at you, taking half a stride closer to examine your work. As the last can is placed into the bag you twist your body to place it by his feet.

“Put your arms behind your back.”

You move instantly as he glances into the tote and nods approvingly.

“You take orders so well, darlin” the man says, with something dark glittering in his eyes.

He walks up the few steps toward you, gun still aimed at you, as he grips your chin. His calloused thumb drags against your bottom lip before grabbing your cheeks, forcing your face into a ridiculous pout. As he let go slowly your tongue darted out to wet your lips, completely involuntarily.

He groans and moves his hand to his groin, massaging the bulge there. Your eyes widen as you started to put together what was gonna happen. The mans salt-and-pepper beard moved as he smirked popping open the button on his jeans.

“It would be such a waste to let you go now, doll-face” he says as his hand returns to his dick that is hardening in a rapid speed, “especially since you are so good at taking orders, right darlin’?”

His whole face darkens and his eyes bore into your own, as he leans down slightly.

“If I even feel a hint of your teeth I’ll empty the fuckin’ clip” the man hisses at you, pushing the barrel of the gun firmly against your head.

You nodded softly with your heart beating out of your chest, and lifted your hands to pull down his jeans. The cock that springs out is undeniably pretty and perfectly red over the tip. Paired with the rugged good looks of its owner this experience might’ve been enjoyable for you. But then you’re reminded of the weapon and ushered to get to work.

Your tongue darted out to lick at the underside, lips wrapping around his tip. You taste the hint of precum before taking half of his length into your mouth, tentatively bobbing over the first couple of inches.

“Good, that’s good” he grunts, dick twitching as he sees tears starting to roll down your cheeks from the strain.

Hollowing out your cheeks you decide to take in some more of him, desperately trying to make this the best blowjob of your life. Saliva starts to gather at corners of your mouth as you dare to look up at him for the first time, but not before stealing a glance of the gun in his hand first.

“Pull your top down, wanna see your drool over those tits”

With a quick yank your boobs spill out, nipples already pert from the cool air and, despite the circumstances, arousal. The man groans in appreciation.

A big hand splays over the back of your head and you have time to anxiously dart your eyes up to his before he starts to thrust into your mouth, and subsequently down your throat.

The sounds of his pleasure and your gags blend as they ring out into the store, one of your hands resting at the base of his cock and the other landing to cup your clothed pussy.

“Ah, fuck it!”

The curly-haired man seemed to get lost in his pleasure since he decides to fasten his gun into his holster to free up his hands. Grabbing a chunk of your hair to maneuver you over his massive cock, pushing you down until your nose was pressed into the patch of hair at his base. You gargle around his member, more drool bubbling from the edge of your lips.

“That’s it, doll” he moans, “choke on it.”

He lifts his hips slightly to get the very last of his dick stuffed into your mouth, your eyes rolling into the back of your skull. When he pulls you off a string of saliva lands on your chin before it drips down onto your exposed chest. He places his dick over your face, pre-cum and your spit leaving sticky trails onto your nose and forehead.

“Aren’t you perfect stress relief?” He asks rhetorically, lifting his cock to slap it over your face a couple of times, “found me food and takes cock like a slut.”

Despite everything you feel your face flush from his words and humiliating actions. He chuckles at you, almost cooing softly before pushing you down onto his cock.

“Too bad I don’t have time to test your other holes, I’m sure they’re lovely” he groans out, thrusting deeper and deeper.

His grunts starts to increase in both volume and frequency, warning you that he’s about to cum, and you begin to mentally prepare yourself for swallowing when he pulls his cock out.

“Stay still, darlin’” he murmurs, eyebrows knitted together, as the hand not jacking himself off with pulls at your hair to put your face in the perfect angle, “I’m gonna paint a pretty picture.”

The last syllable morphed into a groan as he came, hot load landing in ropes over your face. His eyes glittered darkly as he covered you and the utter filthiness of it all made his dick twitch one last time. A few spurts landed on your tits and you keep your eyes trained onto his, mouth slightly agape. He tapped the last drops of cum onto your lips before pulling his pants up again.

He picks up the bag of food you packed and stopped for a second to take in the state of you. Tits out, eyes irritated from tears and face covered in cum. Truly a sight for sore eyes.

“Bye-bye sweetheart, I hope I’ll run into you again” he says with a wink and leaves.

[kissesandarsenic]

Day 21 - Revenge

tw. non consent, torture, dead dove: do not eat

One of my darker fantasies includes me being abducted and abused to the point of breaking. I'll be hurt, degraded, assaulted, treated like utter filth while locked up in this bastard's basement.

It's not to sate the masochist in me, on the contrary.

I want it so that my sadistic side has an excuse to absolutely deal to someone no holes barred.

Breaking out of the restraints I've spent weeks wearing down. Using surprise and sheer rage to overpower my captor. String him up so he can't get out. Delight in the way he cusses me out and screams, like his words have any sway.

I'd take one of his knives, cut his clothes clean off so he's exposed for me. The fear in his eyes would taste like ambrosia. Or an aphrodisiac. I'd take his cock in one hand while holding the blade to his throat, tell him if he doesn't get hard for me, I'll carve his fucking heart out of his chest. He'd know I wasn't joking.

Once his cock was at attention, I'd take him in my mouth, swatting his balls black and blue until he was begging for it to stop. There's some electric gear lying around so maybe I'd light him up with that too. Use the canes and the paddles on places you're really not meant to. Who gives a shit if there's internal bleeding? It's nothing he doesn't deserve.

I'd hope he's an anal virgin. All the more fun to stretch him open on random objects I find floating around. No lube. There isn't any down here. He made sure of it.

God and it would just be so fucking delightful watching him cry. He'd start whimpering out apologies and excuses and promises to be a good boy from now on. Bleating like a fucking lamb about to be slaughtered.

It wouldn't be enough to make me stop. It would never fucking be enough.

I want him so thoroughly broken that I could cut him free and all he'd do is curl up at my legs and cry and plead for me not to leave him.

I don't know if I would or not. Might be addicted to breaking him at that point.

Still, the mere thought of leaving him there to sob and wilt without me would have me a dripping mess.

Loretta and Salt's Kinktober Masterlist

[thelittlestladylikesthis]

The Pink Rose, part 1

*GIF creator unknown

Part One- July 4th, 74 ADD Pairing: Haymitch Abernathy x reader

Word Count: 2,462

Warnings: 18+, fluff and smut, nightmares, witnessed death, implication of death, alcoholism, unprotected sex, sex after drinking, age gap, heterosexual relationship

**** Almost all characters and parts of the storyline are not my original creation and are credited to Suzanne Collins. And please be nice… I’ve never written fanfic or spicy things before- we’re starting vanilla. I will mark where the 18+ part starts and ends.

The cold night air smelled like fire and salt. The arena for the 61st Hunger Games was set up like a quarry next to the sea. [Y/n] was the 15-year-old tribute from District 12. Taking advantage of the low light and tall grass, the only other tributes were in her line of sight and fighting to the death. Spruce Silentsong - District 7 - and Millie Forge - District 2, were engaged in battle and had no idea [Y/n] was watching. Spruce was armed with two hand axes, which served her well-being from the lumber district. Millie had a sword in one hand and a mace in the other. The sword had once been in [Y/n]’s possession, but when Millie and the other careers descended on the District 9, 11, and 12 alliance, [Y/n] was the only one who made it out; without her weapon.

The gurgle of someone choking on blood sounded, followed by the thud of a falling body. [Y/n] thought Spruce must have hesitated. She’d scored high in the assessment, but Millie thirsted for blood. The gong sounded, marking the death of another tribute. 22 down, 1 to go. [Y/n] was still about 12 yards from Millie, but she knew she needed to act while Millie caught her second wind. She looked down to double-check how many throwing knives she had. [Y/n] looked away for half a second and her face rose to lock eyes with a piercing blue set, inches from her face. [Y/n] screamed.

She thrashed for a moment before realizing she was in her bed. She’d left the arena 13 years ago, but the nightmares stuck around. [Y/n] breathed heavily as she sat up and wiped the cold sweat from her forehead. Feeling the sheets next to her, she noticed they were cold and suddenly became aware of the early morning light streaming through the cracks in the curtains, highlighting the dust in the air.

Making her way downstairs, the familiar smell of hard liquor hit her nose. It’s too early for this- she thought as she scanned the room for her neighbor. Haymitch Abernathy was the only other living District 12 Victor. He’d won 11 years before her, and the last Victor from 12 was decades before him- it was just them to understand each other in their whole district. It was just them in Victor’s Village. Haymitch and [Y/n] had both lost their families due to their young defiance of President Snow and the Capitol. It wasn’t uncommon for one of them to stay at the other’s house in the month leading up to the Reaping. The closer the games got, the more frequent their demons seemed to visit. It was easier to help if they were under the same roof. In the last 2 years, they had taken to sleeping next to each other for comfort. Despite Haymitch’s frequent drunken stupor, they had developed a friendship built on sarcasm, life experience, and a unique outlook on the world that only a Hunger Games Victor could have. About 6 years of friendship later, the relationship turned platonic. This would seem odd to someone outside the relationship, but it was no bother to them. In his moments of being nearly sober, Haymitch was quite charming and a kind man with a sense of humor.

In the last two years, [Y/n] noticed that of all the people she interacted with in District 12, Haymitch was the one who could make her feel happy. He irritated the hell out of her sometimes, but she couldn’t deny that she had fallen for him. She didn’t expect him to return the feelings; people might not like the age gap and think her former mentor had taken advantage of her. Haymitch might be a good friend, but he may also be disgusted at the thought of any romance with someone he’d known since she was a teenager.

She stopped in the living room and found Haymitch asleep in the armchair with a bottle in one hand and what looked to be his shirt in the other. [Y/n] knew better than to get too close when waking up someone who’d been drinking. She stood a few feet away and threw a small couch cushion at him. Haymitch jumped and yelled at the sudden contact. “Dammit [Y/n]- what the hell are you doing?” he shouted after realizing where he was.

“Demons paid me a visit- do you have enough to share?” she nodded to the bottle that was still in Haymitch’s hand.

“Oh,” he faltered, “Help yourself, sweetheart,” She took a long swig before Haymitch reacted, “That bad, huh?”

“Don’t act like we don’t have the same dreams,” she pointed before taking another gulp.

The liquid had a comforting warmth as it ran down her throat but it still burned and created the feeling of stinging in her nostrils. The bittersweet feeling of downing alcohol was enough to take her mind off the Hunger Games. The more she drank, the more she understood why Haymitch kept himself in this state.

After almost an hour, [Y/n] could feel the heat in her cheeks and the chaotic feelings from earlier were almost gone. The dullness of her senses and her subdued anxiety were a treat. She looked over and noticed Haymitch was starting to nod off.

“Hey! Don’t leave me alone,” She said loud enough to bring Haymitch back.

Haymitch sighed, “What do you need sweetheart? You know I’m not the best company after drinking,”

Neither am I, she thought, “Hold me?” she suggested.

Haymitch stared at her before nodding his head and waving her over. [Y/n] climbed into his lap- he was larger than she was; this allowed him to envelope her in his arms with ease. She nuzzled her face into his chest. She could feel the old scars across his abdomen and tried not to think about when he got them. She was almost 5 during his games, but she remembered the vivid sight. Haymitch could feel [Y/n]’s slow, quiet tears run down his chest and he gave her a slight squeeze. Within half an hour, the inebriated duo was asleep.

Haymitch woke up, still mildly intoxicated, but much closer to sobriety than he was normally comfortable with. It was the day of the Reaping for the 74th Hunger Games. He heard the small woman in his lap begin to stir. She looked up at him with her deep [y/e/c] eyes and smiled. This girl- no- this woman was the closest thing he had to a family. He was the town drunk. He had business associates and people who tolerated him. Haymitch was a grown man, he never looked twice at the tributes or considered them family, much less friends. He’d hugged [Y/n] before, but this was different. For the first time in 24 years, Haymitch thought, What if she loved me?

He shook the thought from his head and felt disgusted with himself- she was so much younger than him and he didn’t want to ruin what they had spent the last 13 years building. When they met, he was already 27 and she was 15. The thought that they could be happy together would have been inappropriate then and it should be now. Right? Haymitch thought to himself that just because she was 28 and old enough to make her own decisions, that did not make a shift to intimacy okay. [Y/n] continued to smile at him; it had been a long time since anyone was happy to see him. He knew he irritated [Y/n], but she was never genuinely angry with him and still acknowledged him with kindness. They had developed some kind of relationship that was more than friends, but he couldn’t quite figure it out.

“Did you sleep alright this time, sweetheart?” he asked.

[Y/n] gave a soft chuckle, “I did- and it seems you did too,”

“What’s so funny?”

[Y/n] gave a little wiggle of her hips to emphasize that Haymitch had an erection and it was pressed right against her rear.

He gave a startled little jump and had a look of horror on his face, “I’m sorry-”

[Y/n] stopped him from getting up, “It’s okay, I don’t mind” She looked up at him through her eyelashes.

Haymitch raised an eyebrow and cocked his head to the side “Are you still drunk?”

[Y/n] laughed and quickly swung one leg over him so she was straddling him and he was situated right in front of her. He was so erect that he pressed against her stomach.

“No,” she leaned in and tickled his ear with a whisper, “But I’m quite wet,”

He gulped and tried to control his breathing. She was trying to… seduce him? But he’d been her mentor. But she was suggesting it. But he’d known her since she was 15. But she started this exchange. Conflicting thoughts raced through his mind. [y/n] saw the look on his face that was a mixture of shock and confusion- not someone who was willing to continue.

She turned her face away from him, “I’m sorry- I get it if I overstepped the boundary… I didn’t even ask,” she moved to get off him, but Haymitch grabbed her waist and told her to wait.

“[Y/n]- sweetheart- you’re beautiful and I’m not calming down,” he nodded down towards his erection, “But I’m not a good person. You deserve someone better- someone who won’t make you look bad in public. Not some drunk who takes advantage of a younger woman,”

[Y/n] didn’t know he felt this way. She grabbed his chin and demanded he look into her eyes.

“Haymitch Abernathy- I don’t deserve anything less than the man who is my greatest source of comfort, my biggest ally, my closest friend, and the person who currently has his cock in my lap,”

Haymitch was startled at her direct statement- he didn’t know she felt that way. He cupped her face with one hand and slightly tightened his grip on her waist. [Y/n] was more developed than most women in District 12. Haymitch couldn’t deny that he’d noticed her defined hourglass figure before, but who hadn’t?

“Kiss me” [Y/n] demanded quietly.

Haymitch nodded slowly, hesitated, and pressed his lips to hers. They started slow, and then [Y/n] traced his lips with her tongue. She wrapped her arms around his neck and gradually became less gentle in how she kissed him. She felt herself getting more excited and began to move her hips back and forth. Haymitch let out a deep sigh at the feeling of her against him. He ran his rough hands up her torso and his thumbs over her hard nipples. Her soft breasts filled his hands perfectly and felt so good as he cupped them. [Y/n] pulled her face away and swiftly removed her nightshirt. She hadn’t worn pants to bed so she now sat on top of him in her panties. She pulled his face back to hers in the neediest way she could muster.

“Haymitch, I need you,”

“You have me,”

“I need you inside me,” she clarified.

Haymitch’s eyes widened as he paused, but he wasted no time lifting her off his lap to rip off his pants. [Y/n] used this moment to remove her underwear as she noticed he didn’t have any either. They stood there naked for less than a second before Haymitch guided her a few feet over to the sofa. She lay down and Haymitch crawled on top of her. He reached between her legs and ran his thumb in soft slow circles as he made eye contact and used his other hand to line up his aching length with her entrance.

“Are you sure you want this?” He asked hesitantly

[Y/n] nodded.

“You have to say it,” he said seriously.

“Yes Haymitch, I want you- are you comfortable with this?” she asked.

“Yes,” he didn’t even hesitate; he hoped he wasn’t coming off as desperate- but that look she gave him was enough encouragement. Haymitch’s eyes turned dark as he slowly slipped into her. [Y/n] gasped as he pushed the rest of his length inside her soaking wet entrance. Haymitch was a little longer than average, but his girth filled her up as he thrust into her. He slowly picked up his pace- [Y/n] leaned her head back and moaned. Her plump lips made the perfect “O” shape before she said his name.

To see the way she reacted to his touch and hear how she moaned his name, Haymitch didn’t want this to stop- but he could feel the blood flowing and the heightened emotions. He didn’t want to be the first one to finish. He started to slow down and [Y/n] gave him a look of confusion. He cupped her cheek, removed himself from her body, and slid down making his face even with hips. [Y/n] looked down at Haymitch and smiled mischievously, biting her lip. Haymitch hooked his arms under her thighs so her knees were over his shoulders. He smiled up at her and then plunged his tongue into her folds. [Y/n] felt the jolt of electricity from the contact with her clit. Her hips bucked closer to his face and her head fell back.

“Oh my days, Haymitch,” she whined.

“How do you want it sweetheart?” he said with his mouth still against her.

[Y/n] smirked, turned around, and said, “Just fuck me, Haymitch,”

He quickly stood up and bent her over. She was so wet that it was much easier to dive his whole length inside her. Making her moan his name more, Haymitch gave it his all with quick hard thrusts. In the back of his mind, he prayed that this felt as good for her as it did for him.

Feeling her whole body tense up, [Y/n] groaned through gritted teeth, “Fuck, I’m cumming!”

Haymitch was almost there too, “Yes, beautiful, cum on this cock,”

Suddenly the door flew open, “Haymitch you better not - AHH!!” Effie Trinket covered her eyes and ran out of the room with an impressive speed for someone wearing heels that high.

Haymitch and [Y/n] froze how they were. Still inside her, Haymitch said, “Well that’s an experience I never thought I’d have,”

[Y/n] looked over her shoulder and asked, “What? Fucking me or getting caught doing it?”

Haymitch sighed, “Cumming at the moment I got caught by her,”

They both laughed as Haymitch stood up and walked over to the kitchen to get a towel. They needed to clean up and clear the air with Effie.

Masterlist

[tyxoxo]

Cherry Waves

pairing: jeno x fem!reader

genre: thriller, angst, kidnapper/stalker jeno au, jaemin + mark inserts

words: 11.9k

warnings: stalking, kidnapping, murder, blood, knives, cnc smut, oral, fingering, choking/breath play, voyeurism, spitting, unprotected sex, its lowkey giving incel, post-traumatic stress, stockholm syndrome

(this is purely fiction, warnings in bold mean potentially triggering cotent)

a/n: the feds prolly looking at my search history like “👀” but on another note, this is the longest piece of writing i’ve ever published. so pls pls pls! send feedback! this was a rollercoaster of a fic to write ._.

major hugs and kisses to @glitchfiles for helping me decide on an ending and @pradajaehyun for proofreading!

playlist: 

deftones - cherry waves • rosemary • bored • be quiet and drive

clams casino - blast

—

“i’m kind of scared. do you think it’ll bite?” 

“noo, don’t worry baby. it won’t. squirrels are always welcome to food.” your boyfriend reassured you, chuckling in the presence of your endearing timidness. 

the two of you were currently exploring a nature park, choosing to celebrate your 5 year anniversary in the outdoors, away from the bustling city life.

“here, just take the almond and approach them slowly, they’ll come.” he said as he handed you one to start, out of the bag that read Blue Diamond Almonds.

“how about you go first?” 

the two of you shared a laugh, your partner nonetheless agreeing to demonstrate.

just like you expected, he took one almond in his hand and began to tread softly over to a family of kits, and a mother. the four were eagerly awaiting the treat, using their noses to scour over to him. one baby squirrel was more brave than the others as the rest halted once your boyfriend began to kneel down. 

in one sniff and a switch of its tail, the squirrel grabbed the almond and hurried back to his family. 

“see! not that hard! your turn.” he rose up in the process, standing close by in case you opted out. 

“alright, here i gooo.” you geared up the courage, doing exactly as he did, approaching softly towards the group of squirrels. 

you cocked your head to the side in curiosity at the fact they all ran away in unison, back into the green shrubs they called home. and with not enough time to save you, you heard the scuffing of shoes against pavement and a loud crack sound to follow. 

as you turned towards the deafening sound, your boyfriend collapsed onto the floor, his head making contact with the concrete in just as strong of a crash that you heard just mere seconds before.

you weren’t sure if a scream managed to escape, as the hooded figure armed with the hammer made sure that you weren’t conscious to tell the tale.

—

the constant motion of your head banging against a hard surface is what stirred you. your eyelids were heavy, not just from the forced slumber, but from the blood that managed to seep down from your scalp and cake onto your skin. the familiar smell of iron flooded your senses, reminding you of your current state. 

somehow you were moving, not on your own accord. you couldn’t have been... your hands and feet were bound with what felt like rope, based on the friction as it dug in your skin. 

you were moving inside a van, laying down in a fetal position, with your boyfriend across from you doing the same; though he didn’t seem to be conscious.

it was hard to tell if he was breathing, due to the jounce of the van driving over rough terrain. 

the entire vehicle wasn’t average, all of the backseats were gone, not even folded down into a compartment. it felt industrial, with what seemed like new steel framework covering the entire interior. 

you lacked the energy to produce any sound, let alone turn to the direction of the driver's seat to see who was transporting you. the salt from your tears was the last you could recall before falling back into a deep sleep. 

—

to say you reanimated back in the comfort of your own home, with your partner by your side would be the highlight of your life. to say that what all happened was merely a dream. 

yet, your harsh reality was thrust upon you once you awoke again. all of your limbs were still bound, with the only appropriate action being observing where you were now.

you were placed on a cold, grey concrete floor, plastic tarp covering the walls and ceiling, with a single LED work light standing in the corner offering plenty of illumination. a standalone workbench was positioned against the left wall, with an abundance of mechanical tools to satisfy any technician. 

you knew you were still covered in your own blood, but the smell wasn’t there anymore. instead the nauseating odor of overused bleach coming from a nearby bathroom overtook your senses. 

your vision finally began to focus on your boyfriend who was lying directly across from you. 

you weren’t sure if your attacker merely forgot to tape your mouths shut in a haste or simply didn’t care. either way, you used what freedom you had left to call out, your scream resonating enough to wake him up.

he winced, teeth covered in crimson from the aftermath of his blunt force trauma. once he met your eyes, tears began to well; relieved to know he was breathing, but pained to see him struggling for clarity.  

he scanned the room, just as you did, then settled upon your crying eyes. 

“are you okay?! please, tell me you’re okay!” 

he was selfless just like always, more concerned about your well-being than his own. 

“i-im okay.” 

truly you weren’t. your head was pounding, and your arms were beginning to fall asleep from being bound. 

“i’m sorry i couldn’t protect you. im-” 

“no! don’t say that! we need to get out of here now!” you cut him off immediately, not wanting his words to add onto the anguish you were already feeling.

“just stay there and i’ll come to you.” 

you nodded as he began to shimmy along the cold floor, using his coarse shoe soles to push along the concrete. 

he paused every other moment, most likely feeling dizzy from his injury.

your hopes were crushed when he was halfway. the sound of multiple door locks being fidgeted with, echoed throughout what you assumed to be the basement. the door creaked, and slammed shut even louder. your boyfriend stopped moving, knowing the end was potentially near. 

the view of who or what coming down the stairs was obstructed by the tarp covered wall but within seconds, you saw a man.

who didn’t bother to cover his face.

you kept the fact that he was attractive repressed in your mind. it was more important to realize that you would likely die here now that you saw what he looked like. 

he was tall, lean, and young. couldn’t have been much younger or older than you. with raven dark hair that was long enough to form somewhat of a mullet. his bangs covered most of his blank expression, though it didn’t take much squinting to realize his irises were black. an evil black.

your memory was too foggy to remember if he was wearing the same clothes as before. but the white dress shirt, and black slacks didn’t seem familiar; especially the black butcher’s apron. 

he stopped at the base of the stairs upon seeing your boyfriend’s attempts to get close to you. 

“we can give you whatever you want. we have money. take our cards, whatever. just let us go please!”

he ignored your boyfriend’s pleas, choosing not to even look at him. instead, his eyes bore deep in your own.

fear grew in the pit of your stomach. there were only a few things a guy like him would want from you and the thought of him taking not only your life, but your body shook you down to your bones. 

your boyfriend must’ve assumed the same based on his whirling eyes between you and your attacker. 

you wished to give him a name, something to represent his depravity. but all thoughts were paused once he began walking slowly in the direction of the workbench. 

there was a toolbox and a rolled up utility belt waiting for him, it was just a matter of choice.

he rustled through the box, creating enough noise to elicit terror for the both of you.

it didn’t take long for him to choose one, the light in the corner bouncing off of the stainless steel bowie knife that he pulled from it.

he inspected the blade and it’s sharpness in silence, ignoring the sobbing coming from your disheveled body.

“kill me and just let her go!” 

your boyfriend’s cries didn’t go unnoticed, as the mephisto of a man paused his inspection, eyebrows raising as if he would accept that offer.

seeing his side profile from his position at the workbench sparked faint recollection within you.

why did he look familiar?  

—

Four Months Ago

—

jeno still wasn’t good enough at adapting to his new life of carnage. 

how did he not know that a decomposing body would attract maggots, no matter how “clean” he kept his basement bathroom. 

the life he claimed was an “accident.” 

atleast that’s what he told himself.

but could a life taken after rejection still be considered an accident? maybe.

the girl took too long. 

he cooked for her, provided clothes for her, gave her a place to sleep. yet she was never accepting of his affection. 

it was just four days ago that he had to rush to the emergency room on his own volition, to have a laceration on his collarbone stitched. the bitch barely missed his subclavian. 

he was beginning to be more lenient after holding her captive at his house for 2 weeks. though he wasn’t sure if there was a beginner’s guide on “how long it should take to actually let a hostage begin to roam your house.” but he learned his lesson after dinner, when she ran towards the kitchen sink and grabbed the sashimi knife.

every attending nurse asked what happened, but he continued to blame it on a “freak accident”: trying to transport a porcelain attachment on his shoulders, tripping and ultimately earning a gash. 

somehow they bought it.

ten stitches later, he was discharged. seething at the teeth, he sped back to his house to finish her. he couldn’t have another slip up like that again.

that night he brought the blade into her neck, earning her a matching cut. 

it was the first and last time she was ever brave. 

now here jeno was, at a utility store in search of his first shovel. he wasn’t picky, he just needed something sturdy enough to help dig his first grave.

off into the distance, he saw you. innocently scanning the shelves for new vanity light bulbs. 

you were absolutely perfect.  

he felt a sudden magnetic pull to be near you, even smell you. but he had to resist the urge; there was a decomp job waiting for him at home. 

it probably wasn’t a good idea to approach you either, as there was a possibility the smell of putrefaction was beginning to attach to his clothes. 

from that day on, jeno had been watching you for months. 

every outfit you wore, every doe-eyed expression, every bite of your lip was all for him. 

even though the two of you were never formally introduced, he knew the proper time would come. 

so far he had done well becoming acquainted from afar: he knew where you worked, your grocery store of choice, your primary care doctor, even your favorite drink at the local café.  

there was still so much left to uncover. now, he set the goal of finding out your birthday, just to send a batch of flowers to your job when the time came; labeled anonymous of course. 

but the dreams of becoming your admirer were crushed the day that jeno found out you had a significant other. he almost chucked the vase he was holding. he didn’t need a vase, he was merely there because you and your boyfriend were at a furniture store, eyeing a new couch for your living room. it was just a method for him to blend in. 

he kept his composure so as not to draw attention nor have to pay the store for damages. 

the boy you called “babe” was average, nowhere near your level. but you clutched onto him like he was the only thing that mattered. 

what did he have, that jeno didn’t? 

the obvious answer was you.

jeno sat the vase down before storming out of the store, causing the bell atop of the door to slam and chime throughout the showroom. you actually turned to the direction of the entrance, somewhat alarmed at how loud it rang through the store. 

fortunately, you were too late to see him. 

that night, jeno began plotting his second abduction. it would be a challenge, no doubt. 

he would ultimately regret if you got hurt in the process, but with enough love, he could prove that he was sorry.  

and now that his “ex” was taken care of, he could finally focus. 

there was a small checklist he made within a couple of days: buy a van, have the backseats removed and fitted with steel.

luckily money wasn’t an issue. but he did get a few weird glances from the auto modifications shop at his request.

“you don’t seem like the type to want a van decked out like this?” the automotive stylist said while looking over jeno’s new 12-seater. 

he was sly enough to come up with a lie, plus the amount of money he was willing to drop was all that was needed to seal the deal. 

jeno considered himself well-equipped from first girlfriend, it was just a matter of time and preparation before you were his second...

—

Present

—

you couldn’t hold back your screams, not when the love of your life was on his knees, being held at knife point. 

“please! stop! you don’t have to d-do this!” 

you thrashed on the floor, tears painting your cheeks, mucus staining your upper lip.

jeno had dragged your boyfriend back to his original position with his knife in hand, eventually standing behind him. 

he took a handful of your lover’s hair to cock his head back, exposing an array of veins lining his neck. 

“i love you so much…” was the last you would ever hear, causing jeno to furrow his brow and snarl in disgust.

the life you once knew was taken in a slash, jeno’s right hand swiping the serrated blade along your boyfriend’s stained skin. 

your ears rang from the sound of metal against flesh, all of the tendons snapping at once. velvet poured from the now-open cavity, splattering onto the tarp and jeno’s bare hands. 

your guts felt twisted, hearing the gurgling sounds of blood clogging his airway. seeing his eyes roll back into his sockets. so lifeless. 

jeno let the body fall on its own. 

he was inexplicably satisfied. the pig you called “babe” was now out of the picture, merely a slab of dead meat.  

you curled into a ball, letting your head fall to the floor, entire soul succumbing to emptiness.

you simply didn’t care if you were next. 

jeno stepped over the corpse and towards you, knife still in hand. with a swipe of his nose, he kneeled down in front of your shaken form, the least bit bothered by the blood smeared on his septum. 

you didn’t even flinch when he tossed the knife down, barely missing your chest when it came to a stop on the floor. 

“when i come back, we’ll be formally introduced.” 

with a click of his tongue he rose up, leaving as if he didn’t just rip out your heart. 

it didn’t take long for your boyfriend’s blood to run across the basement floor, the rest clotting near his open throat.

you let the warmth of the dark fluid envelop you. soaking deeper and deeper into your clothes.

—-

“shhh. shouldn’t we be quiet?” 

you heard the whispered voice of a woman, giggling in between her words.

your eyes fluttered open, taking a while to adjust from the tears that crystallized over your eyelashes. 

how many hours, or days has it been? 

based on the way your clothes were now brittle from the dried blood, and the sea of black covering the floor, it had been a while.

unfortunately, your subconscious wasn’t able to repress the memories of your dead boyfriend, not when his cold, stiff body was still on the floor.

his skin had blotched purple, showing signs of livor mortis, his irises a milky white. 

“no its fine. come here.” 

you heard the familiar voice of your abductor, as he ushered the woman down the basement stairs. 

excitement littered both of their faces, the girl hopping from the last step and into his arms. 

you didn’t care to recall her appearance, the only thing worth mentioning was her frilly dress and kitten heels. 

did she not even react to the scene in front of her? a corpse, and your starving body, still tied up, on a soiled basement floor?

she continued to giggle, keeping her hands on his chest.

“this is amazing…you’re so fucking hot.” her ear-grating words were swallowed by the heavy kiss they shared, attacking each other’s mouths. if it wasn’t for the mess, you were sure that he would’ve slammed her against the tarp covered wall. 

his hands explored her body, lifting up the ruffled fabric to expose her ass, squeezing ever so often to hear her whine in pleasure.

you tried your hardest to block out the sounds of their smothered lips. even slamming your eyes shut to fulfill the disbelief that flooded your brain. 

“you know i did this for you right?” he spoke in between their labored breaths, pulling away for air. 

“of course i did…now can i show you how grateful i am?”

he nodded, palming himself through his black pants.

the girl guided him towards his workbench, pushing his back into the chilled metal table, seeming dominant in her quest to show thanks.

her hands trailed down to his belt buckle, freeing the clasp. you could hear his zipper being undone, and the sigh of relief once she started touching him in the right places. 

you didn’t have the strength to demand them to stop, nor the freedom to end your own life. either decision would only fuel her to go slower.

the she-devil got down on her knees, pulling down his pants, giddy at the sight of him with no underwear. his dick sprang free from its confines, snapping back onto his chiseled groin. the girl squealed in satisfaction, to see that he was just as big as her face.

a growl erupted from his throat as she took him in her small hands and licked along the underside of his cock. 

she welcomed him in her drooling mouth, keeping her eyes glued to his look of satisfaction. he wasted no time fucking her face, eyes darting between you and the corpse he created.

you winced at every gag you heard, every tug of his lips between his teeth. 

she was struggling to fit what she could, even tapping his thighs, signaling to stop. but he wasn’t concerned for her effort. 

he was busy swimming in pure ectasy, getting off to the chaos he created. 

through it all, you finally managed to mutter the words,

“please kill me…”

—

Day 2 

—

the snapping sounds were becoming too hard to ignore. you couldn’t drown them out any longer.

your eyes focused on him again, attempting to stuff the rigid corpse into a large black suitcase. 

he panted as he tried to bend the unforgiving joints, fighting against the effects of rigor mortis. 

his frustration was growing with every trial and error. and the smell of rotting flesh wasn’t helping either. 

you were too catatonic to react…it was just another day in his world. 

he eventually succeeded, feeling pleased to have the remains covered before it continued its cycle of decay. 

in the corner of his eye, he saw you wiggling in your restraints, trying to make your limbs come alive again.

“who was that girl?” 

your voice was crackly, barely audible from dehydration. 

“what?” he said with obvious confusion, pausing to look over at your crippled frame. 

“the girl you were with?” you gulped afterwards, trying your hardest to lubricate your vocal chords with what saliva you had left.

“must’ve been a nightmare…” he spoke under his breath, shameless in his look of concern.  

somehow you believed him. 

and the mere thought of dreaming something so wicked disgusted you. 

you watched as he finished zipping up the suitcase, taking off his vinyl gloves and tossing them on top.

he then made his way over to you, kneeling down to untie the complex knots on your wrists and ankles.

you chose not to look at him, fearing he would change his mind and leave you there to molder in sorrow. 

“i’ve hidden my name for long enough…jeno.”

his eyes managed a subtle smile through his introduction; the naturally occurring feature strangely matching his exterior. if he wasn’t a murderer. 

once the ropes fell loose, you could barely resort back to mobility. it felt unnatural to finally be able to stretch after so long.

but now that you were somewhat free, you finally realized how filthy you were.

“i’ve got some cleaning up to do…there’s a bathroom for you to use over there. freshen up and then i can take you upstairs to the kitchen.” he pointed with his head over to the ivory bathroom, which seemed to be the only clean spot in the basement.

he had the decency to help you to your feet, watching as you struggled to gain equilibrium. you looked away into the direction of the bathroom, indicating you could help yourself now. 

you didn’t bother glancing over to the workbench, figuring he was smart enough to put away his tools and weapons. you didn’t have the energy to defend yourself anyways. 

the bathroom wasn’t far enough away to miss the smell of a festered corpse but you hoped by the time you showered, it would all be a bit better.

to your surprise, the bathroom was fully stocked: unopened toiletries, feminine products, shampoo, body wash, lotions, towels, everything you needed to feel alive again.

laying in the sink was an oversized t-shirt, sweatpants and socks, all in a vacuum sealed bag, which you assumed to be jeno’s. or maybe they belonged to a former victim. it didn’t matter as long as they were clean. anything was better than the battered clothes you had on now. 

you closed the door and began to undress, keeping your body towards the door incase jeno barged in to take advantage of your naked form. though you doubted anyone would want to see the current state you were in. 

raising your legs to get inside the fiberglass shower proved to be a challenge, even bending down to adjust the temperature of the water made your knees buckle. 

but you eventually managed to rid yourself of the dried blood and sweat; water droplets masking your tears as you watched the black clumps flow down into the drain. 

—

jeno was waiting for you outside the door, leaning against the wall that was now free of plastic sheets. 

everything was spotless, or at least that’s what you could discern through your hooded eyes. the floor was free of biomass, all of the tarp was discarded, and the suitcase was nowhere to be found. most of all, the horrid odor was gone. 

jeno eyed you up and down, satisfied with the floral smell coming from the lotion he bought you. he was always a fan of rose, and he hoped you were too. 

he reached out his left hand for you to take, but you rejected the gesture, instead hugging your sides and looking down at your feet. 

you could get up the stairs just fine. 

or so you thought.

just as your feet made contact with the first step, you tugged on jeno’s shirt for support as he led the way. 

you managed to miss the faint smile that painted his face, as you were too busy trying not to lose balance. 

once you made it upstairs, you took in the interior. natural white oak floors, a spacious living room fitted with potted plants, a curtained patio sliding door, a small tv, with a gaming console placed just underneath in the stand, a glass coffee table, and a single white boucle couch that was surprisingly free of any suspicious stains. 

the same could be said for the kitchen, shiny quartz countertops, and all steel appliances. you began to doubt if he afforded all of this on his own, but then you thought back to his extensive basement. maybe his career supported  all of his dangerous endeavors. 

your stomach instantely growled upon sitting at the kitchen bar. so loud that jeno managed to hear it as he began rummaging through the drawers for cooking utensils.

“i guess i should tell you the reason that you’re here.” jeno huffed as he began chopping up the raw food onto a cutting board. your heart dropped at his words; you weren’t sure if you could handle learning the reason right now.

“i’ve been watching you for quite a while now…i just knew from the very first time, that i had to prove my worth. prove that i could be everything you needed.”

you knew you weren’t mentally ready to play along with his insanity, nor try to earn his trust so soon. with his level of denial, your strategy needed time. 

all you could do was be a listener and soak in his confession. 

“i know i’ve done irreversible damage to you, so i don’t expect forgiveness. but at least let me give you the support you deserve to heal.”

you chose not to reply, it was best that way. 

maybe through the silence, he would come to his senses. 

as he continued to cook, you tried to look closely for any hints of him lacing the food. you weren’t afraid to deny sustenance in exchange for starvation.

but when you realized he was making a plate for himself, you felt less suspicious.

jeno arranged the food to look delectable, and placed everything neatly on trays, paired with a glass of water. he stood across the kitchen bar, eagerly awaiting your review before he took his first bite. 

you picked at the rice with your fork, and tried your best not to tremble when you brought it up to your mouth and swallowed a few grains. he frowned when he noticed you trying to hold back tears.

what was so sad about a plate of food? 

“i didn’t do anything to it.” he said sympathetically, but you let the tears fall anyway.

having a meal with the man that kidnapped you wasn’t anything to be delighted about. nonetheless, you grabbed more and more, slowly beginning to feel replenished.

jeno ate with you in silence, every once in a while watching the tears fall onto your plate.

you were sure that the lack of food for two days straight was the reason for the onset of nausea that creeped inside your body. the food didn’t taste bad, far from it. but the more you ate, the more you felt like you couldn’t keep it down. 

a couple of spoonfuls remained, and once you set down your fork, you eyed the couch behind you in the living room.

laying on a soft surface for once, sounded the most appealing.

“can you help me to the couch?”

you knew he wouldn’t turn down your request. anything you could do to earn his trust, the better. 

jeno was quick to assist, first, gathering the plates and placing them in the sink.

“i’ll put the leftovers in the fridge, just let me know when you want some more.” he said as he walked briskly to your position on the bar stool. 

you didn’t dare move.

his soft hands grabbed both of your own, clasping somewhat too hard to get you to your feet. you faced him eye to eye, waiting for him to guide you. 

but there was no motion from either of you; his chest mere centimeters from your own. his irises were such an uncomfortable black, soulless.

you couldn’t look away. 

sweat formed in your hands, which you were sure that he could feel. yet, he didn’t let go. a sniffle from your runny nose seemed to have snapped him out of his reverie. 

with no further time to waste, he helped you towards the living room, keeping hold of your clammy hands as you sunk down into the soft material. you winced as you swung your legs around to lay flat but immediately exhaled in relief at the plush cushions hugging your entire backside. 

jeno brought your glass of water to the coffee table, and scooted the tv remote closer.

just the mere sight of the remote made you wonder if turning on the news right now would show hundreds of stories on you and your boyfriend's disappearance. or any leads on the suspect. 

your family, your goals, your passions, all ripped away by someone that “cared” about you. 

why couldn’t you bring yourself to scream at the top of your lungs to fill the void?

the desperate need for rest overpowered everything else. this was the most comfortable you had ever felt in a while.

you closed your eyes, drifting off into a  deep sleep to the sound of running water from the kitchen sink. 

—

you missed the answer to your question just half an hour later. it was motivation. 

had you heard the sound of heavy knocks echoing off of the front door. you would’ve made your presence known, whether or not it was the police. 

a youthful male voice yelled on the other side.

“jenooo! open up buddy!” 

then a different voice spoke, 

“dude! we know you’re in there!” 

jeno froze from drying the dishes, only his eyes looking in the direction of the door. 

it was mark and jaemin.

he thought he made it very clear, for them to never show up to his house unannounced. 

ever since he began seeking you out, he made sure to send a text to them stating that “he’d been going through a rough time, that it was best to have as much privacy as possible. and to always shoot a text or a call before coming over.”

guess they didn’t want to respect his wish. 

he carefully sat down the ceramic bowl on the counter and bolted towards your sleeping body.

he didn’t even need to spike your drink, it was obvious you were going to pass out from sleep deprivation and mental exhaustion. 

jeno knitted his brow in disappointment. you looked so perfect like this, ready and willing to take what he could give. and now his friends had to ruin it. 

sadly, he didn’t have time to be gentle.

your eyes immediately shot open at the feeling of him gripping your waist with one hand, and covering your mouth with the other. 

“don’t fucking say a word.” 

he snarled in your ear, spit accidentally hitting your lobe from how hard he spoke. he wrapped his veiny arm around your hips, forcing you away from the couch. 

you had more energy than he thought, preventing him from getting a good enough grip to hoist you over his shoulders. you kicked at the coffee table, managing to knock over the glass of water onto the hardwood floor. he saw you turn your head towards the direction of the door from the sound of a few more knocks, those probably being the first you heard ever since they arrived.

he suffered through the discomfort of you gnawing at his fingers as he dragged you back towards the basement. 

your measly struggle only allowed a single muffled scream to bounce against the crevices of his hands. 

as he kicked the door open to the basement, he switched positions, this time dragging you down by a simple chokehold, causing your body to slump from the lack of circulation.

your heels knocked against each step, no longer having the adrenaline to fight back. he hurriedly grabbed the duct tape on the workbench, knowing he wouldn’t have enough time to do a thorough restraint.

it pained him to toss you onto the hard floor, just when you were beginning to find solace in his home. but he continued to tape your mouth, and your wrists, ripping the strips with his teeth. 

he added plenty to your mouth, knowing you were smart enough to try and lick the adhesive. 

you were disoriented enough from your elbows and knees striking the concrete, that he was able to sprint back upstairs, locking you inside. 

there wasn’t as much of a mess when he returned, just a glass of water shattered into pieces on the floor. he ignored it for now, already coming up with an excuse for the slight disarray.

he wiped his hands free of your saliva before opening the door. 

of course the two were excited to see him. 

“took you long enough!” jaemin exclaimed before reaching in for a hug. jeno didn’t return the embrace, choosing to remain cold and statuesque.

the two friends could sense the tension, coming to their defense immediately. 

“now before you get pissed, we sent you hella text messages and you never responded.” jaemin stepped back, raising up the palms of his hands. 

“yeah and we were beginning to worry. is it okay if we come in and talk? just thought it would be nice to check on you.” mark followed suit with his concern, hoping jeno would permit them entry.

secretly, jeno was squeezing his side of the door handle to death, and internally, his blood was boiling.

he had an entire human being probably thrashing around in his basement, and two unmarked graves of his ex and your ex in his backyard.  

now wasn’t the time.

but they were already here, and telling them to leave wouldn’t be easy. 

“fine. but you can’t stay long. i have to go grocery shopping here soon.”

a complete lie. 

jeno stood aside to let them enter, remembering to bring up the broken glass on the living room floor as they took off their shoes. 

“be careful, i dropped a glass of water earlier. let me sweep it up first.” jeno made sure they stopped in their tracks before walking over to his coat closet to grab the broom and dustpan.

he swept up the crystal shards in seconds, mentally praying that they would want to do something other than just talk in silence, 

something to drown out the potential noises you would make from downstairs.

—

unbeknowest to you, jeno was trying his hardest to appear unbothered as the three took turns playing Street Fighter. 

he kept losing, which seemed unlike him. and not once yelling at the screen was unlike him too. mark and jaemin noticed his lack of excitement, but couldn’t brush it off any longer.

“you sure you’re okay?” mark looked over at jeno once the match ended. 

“yeah i’m fine.”

“we can stop playing if you want. i get you’re not always in the mood.”

“no it’s fine. i need the distraction…”

jeno looked down at his controller, finding that to be the better option than locking eyes with either of them.

“is work kicking your ass? maybe you need a vacation…have some time away from all the bullshit.” 

jaemin did have a point, but you were more important. vacation could wait. 

—

had you finally been rescued? had the police finally traced him?

the lack of commotion from the rest of the house left you feeling hopeless. maybe the detectives were doing a welfare check, which wouldn’t account for much noise. jeno didn’t seem like the type to attack law enforcement nor turn himself in. 

he’d only had you all to himself for a day now, you doubted he would give himself up so soon. 

you managed to stand to your feet, thankful for the rush that prevented him from taping your ankles together.

you tried searching his workbench for any signs of a sharp object that could cut your wrists free. of course he locked everything away, and there didn’t seem to be a secret compartment. 

you then ran up the stairs and placed your ear against the door.

all you could hear were two faint voices other than jeno’s. but they weren’t loud enough to discern their position in the world. either way, you had to make your presence known. 

the length from the door to the stairs was non-existent, which meant you couldn’t get a head start to ram your shoulders into the steel material.

the least you could do was kick and shove it, just enough to indicate a disturbance.

you did all the above; sure to make his visitors look in the direction of the basement.

you were beginning to get overzealous in your attempts. you just knew you were going to be saved now. 

just as you stepped back to increase what momentum you had, you felt gravity pull you down towards the trenches.

without any assistance from your hands to break your fall, your entire body tumbled down the staircase. 

the uneasy sound of a pop rang under your skin, traveling all the way from your ankle. 

as soon as your twisted body settled at the bottom of the staircase, you instantly knew.  

he was definitely going to dispose of you now.

—

jeno thought he could never truly be mad at you. but when you decided to cause a scene downstairs, he knew a punishment was in order. 

luckily, mark received a call from his girlfriend saying she needed help installing a new router in her apartment, and since jaemin rode together with him, they had to leave. 

your pandemonium just began as the two put on their shoes and said their goodbyes, making sure to stress to him that if he ever needed to “rant or vent”, to give them a call.

his demeanor was like a switch as soon as he shut the door, his eyes darting over to the now silent basement, jaw clenched so hard that he could’ve tore a muscle.  

maybe you realized your fate, he thought as he power walked over to the door. 

the scene in front of him was far from what he could have ever guessed: you were sprawled on your back, laying in a pool of your own tears. as soon as he caught sight of your injury, he put two and two together. 

you fell and sprained your ankle.

a faint sigh left his lips, and he rubbed his eyes as if to erase the mess you were now in. 

your sobs grew louder as jeno made his way down the steps, hoping he would gain a conscious by the time he made it down.  

to your surprise, jeno didn’t pull out a knife, neither did he wrap his hands around your neck and give it a fateful squeeze. 

he bent down, carefully gathering your crippled legs together. with one brief exhale, he brought one arm around the back of your neck and the other under your bundled knees. he rose up effortlessly, without any need to readjust his footing. 

you winced into his chest at the feeling of your ligaments pulling apart even further from hanging in the air. 

but the pain seemed to have subsided for a split second as you looked up at the man carrying you bridal style up the stairs.

blemishless skin, pink lips, long eyelashes—

you interrupted your outlandish thoughts, choosing not to label him as outwardly flawless. you could burn in hell if you ever admitted so.

—

your foot had completely mutated, like you had swapped body parts with an alien. 

somehow you were alive, and that’s all that mattered.

jeno took the time to carry you to his bedroom and place you on his king- sized bed. you didn’t even need to ask for help as he swung your legs onto the semi-firm mattress. 

his entire room sported a similar Scandinavian design like the rest of his house, with more plants hanging from his bedroom window. 

“my foot looks disgusting…” you thought you whispered low enough under your breath, but jeno managed a chuckle as he started gathering extra pillows from his closet to elevate your swollen ankle. 

it sounded foreign, but oddly comforting.

“well, you managed a pretty decent tear. just be grateful it wasn’t your achilles, or i would’ve had to take you to the doctor…” 

“how long do you think?”  

“mmhm, three to four weeks. as long as you don’t put unnecessary pressure, it should be pretty painless. i have some ice packs in the freezer but i need to go digging for some pain pills. do you need anything else before i go get them?”

“a glass of water and blankets please.”

“of course.” he nodded at each request, making a mental checklist and walking off in the direction of the coat closet to gather the blankets. 

you scooted back in the bed, letting the headboard support you while you sat in an upright position. 

it didn’t take long for him to come back with a handful of all the things you needed.

a glass of water and ibuprofen lay on the adjacent nightstand, two pillows were placed underneath your ankles, three assorted blankets were folded neatly at the foot of the bed, two ice packs were wrapped in microfiber towels, and the fully stocked bathroom was just a few steps down the hallway to the right. 

you already had a brief discussion with him on needing assistance to go to the bathroom, though it left you feeling rather uncomfortable. then you thought back to him buying feminine products—maybe it was less awkward than you thought.

as the evening progressed, jeno remained by your side, scrolling through his phone on the other half of the bed. he didn’t speak much, only checking every once in a while to see if you needed to pee, too much in fact. 

he quickly realized your slight annoyance from his fifth time asking, deciding to keep quiet for the rest of the night. 

you finally managed to rest with your eyes closed once the ibuprofen took away some of the discomfort, and within minutes, you drifted off. 

—

3 Weeks Later

—

your recovery was painless just like jeno predicted. within a week, the swelling and bruising went down.

in the second week, you were able to walk to the kitchen to heat up your own food in the microwave.

considering jeno worked from home and couldn’t leave his office space that often, you tried your best to be self-sufficient. 

through it all, he continued to cook and clean, creating somewhat of a new domestic lifestyle that you never thought was possible. 

once he finished work at 6pm, he would come out of his office and into his bedroom where you spent your time reading. he would always refill your glass of water and lift the ice pack to take a peek at your ankle. 

you never admitted to him that you missed interpersonal relationships or profound conversation, but there was something deep within you that thought maybe he could see it in your face everytime he brought you a snack from the pantry without saying a word.  

in all honesty, you were afraid to bring up anything from his past. it wasn’t like the two of you were together and you had no idea he was a murderer. 

he showed his true colors from the very beginning.

every night he slept on the far half of the bed, always starting off on his back, with one hand behind his head. once he hit deep sleep, he shuffled quite a bit until he found comfort being on his side, sometimes facing you, sometimes not.

you never awoke to snoring or his body making contact with yours. most nights you would wake from a nightmare, though you did a decent job at hiding it. some nights you couldn’t handle the agony that plagued your mind, laying there crying for hours. 

just when you thought jeno couldn’t hear your sublte cries, he did. but what could he do to make it better? 

in the final week, jeno did some makeshift physical therapy with you, testing your range of motion while you sat on the edge of the bed.

he seemed to be in deep concentration, even making sure the room was silent so he could listen for any popping sounds that would’ve indicated more recovery time. 

“i don’t know if it’s just me, but i don’t look as stiff anymore.” you said as you watched jeno gently rotate your ankle clockwise, then counterclockwise. 

“you certaintly don’t feel stiff. i think we’ve done everything right so far.” jeno smiled, quite impressed with how well his methods turned out for you. he let your foot come back softly against the bed before standing up. 

your breath hitched when he positioned himself in between your legs, staring down into your glossy eyes.

jeno pondered on the thought of bringing up your sleepless nights. but he didn’t know of a correct way, or if there was one at all. the only thing he could do was make sure you had access to one pain pill at a time, for if the day came that you left him, he would leave the earth too. 

you had “been with him” for almost a month now, and you managed to last longer than he thought. 

he admired you for that. 

“will i ever know who you are?” 

your voice gave out, dwindling into thin air. jeno watched as you dropped your head to conceal what dignity you had left.

he used a single finger to prop you back up, ultimately deciding if an embrace would make it better. 

there’s no way it could. 

—

Day 32 

—

this was the worst nightmare you’ve had yet.

the scene was too vivid, too real to let go of.

reliving the day your boyfriend died ate away at your soul and spit out what sanity you had left.

each time he died, the more he spoke to you, as if he wasn’t dead.

“you see that i’m quite dead. how awful.”

though his neck had just been slit, he laid there…staring at you…speaking so monotone, so robotic. 

“why do you make me experience this over and over again? wake up. wake up. wake up.” he repeated to you. 

your blood-curdling screams filled the bedroom; yet another sleepless night for not only you, but jeno too. 

it was only recently that you began thrashing around the bed and filling the silent room with your grief-stricken cries. 

there was no trying to hide it now…the pain became too much. 

jeno immediately rose out of bed, enveloping your shaken body in a full embrace, the first time that he’d ever done so.

you continued to wail as if he wasn’t there. 

“where is he-i need to see him! where did you put him?!” 

you continued to repeat your demands, rocking back and forth in his arms.

jeno knew what you meant, but he was sure you truly didn’t need to know. if you were this broken down from the nightmares, there was no way learning the truth could make it all better.

jeno knitted his brow as you continued to shuffle within his broad frame. 

he would never admit this to you, but these past few weeks have been miserable. 

he was beginning to lose hope. 

spraining your ankle was probably the best thing that could’ve happened; as bizarre as that sounded.

the two of you spent so much time together, and even though jeno could tell you wanted to know more about him, there just wasn’t a right time. not yet.

his past and how he came to be was best left unsaid. not until you seemed “better”, as the heavy load of his own trauma would’ve only made it worse for you. 

and now here you were, still not “better.” 

within the time that you began to gain control of your breathing, jeno contemplated his decision. 

he let go of your body, rubbing his eyes to adjust better to the dark room. 

you watched closely as he made his way around to you and held out his hand.

for the first time, you took it. 

it was if you were still dreaming, but no longer fighting your night terror. 

he guided you towards the living room patio door, walking slowly enough in regards to your recently healed ankle.

you seemed to have forgotten that the backyard existed, as you were so used to being in your own purgatory. nonetheless, you were eager to see the outdoors again, yet still unsure why he was taking you there. 

jeno used his non-occupied hand to push the curtains away before unlocking the sliding door, still keeping his other hand interlocked with yours. 

a slight breeze hit your face as the two of you stepped onto the patio. 

even in the early morning, the moon still illuminated bright against the deciduous trees swaying in the wind. petrichor emanated from the dampened grass, soothing away your stresses immediately.  

being outside for even just a second made up for all the lost time you spent in captivity.

maybe this is why jeno brought you here, to finally let you experience the beauty of the outdoors again; to take your mind off the troubles of your nightmares.

you remained behind him, peaking over his shoulder to admire the forgotten land you once accustomed yourself to.

still no words were spoken as he lead the way into the yard. you continued to hold his hand, finding comfort in the creases of his palms. 

he came to a stop in the middle, and appeared to have been looking down at something. you furrowed your brow as he let go of your hand, already missing the contact that kept you down to earth.

once you stepped aside to be shoulder to shoulder, you immediately realized what this was.

your wish had been granted. 

in front of you were two raised patches of dirt, one seemed to have settled more than the other. it appeared that grass had been planted, in an attempt to speed up the rate of growth on the disturbed level of soil. 

your world shattered—crashing into the depths of pure misery and sorrow.

you fell to your knees, the softened mud painting your pajama pants deep brown.

all the tears you could’ve cried remained back inside the house. this time, your chest felt tight, constricting any sign of emotion.

jeno remained blank, gearing up for the words that would change your life forever.

he bent down to your level, knees settling into the mud, eyes glossed over.

he waited for you to look up from the two graves, almost considering if he should do this.

you met his eyes, just as dark as the sky.

“this will probably be the last time you ever see him.” 

to you, his voice barely sounded human, morphed into the monster he truly was.

you felt a surge of fight or flight—a passion to fight for your survival. 

it all became a blur as you lunged forward, grabbing both sides of his chiseled face and connecting your lips to his. 

you couldn’t bear to keep your eyes open as you kissed him. for you knew that this way of self-preservation would haunt you if you made it out alive. 

giving him what he wanted all this time, seemed to be the only logical way.

jeno welcomed your lips without falter, as if this was the answer. 

his lips were soft, mending against your own like silk. 

your hands remained attached to his jawline, as he trailed down to grip your waist.

he squeezed you just right, not too hard like he’d done in the past. 

you wanted him to take control, to show that he could do whatever he wanted. the whimpers that escaped your lips, told him so. 

the kiss never broke, as you both rose and stood under the pale moonlight. his hands traced down further, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. he cupped the underside of your thighs within a single catch of your breath, to which you exhaled and whined, so gingerly. 

he took your subtle detachment as an opportunity to connect your tongues, the feeling of warmth completely searing your insides. 

you were too dazed to match the way his tongue explored your mouth, but the messiness ignited infatuation for how unique he tasted. 

still, it could never be too much, not even the way your conjoined saliva dripped onto your tear-stained shirt. 

there was no limit for how willing you were to submit.  

he swallowed the whimpers that fell from your mouth, trying his hardest not to tug on your lips too harshly. 

his hands pressed upwards on the back of your thighs, signaling that he craved more.

he clutched onto your ass as you jumped and wrapped your legs around his waist.

you could feel the growth in his sweatpants increase the moment your breasts made contact with his clothed chest, nipples almost meeting together in the same distance across.

you were both harmonious in your attempts to get back inside the house; just the simple action of raking your fingers through his raven locks, encouraged him to move quickly. 

he managed to walk through the yard with ease, taking only a brief moment to peek behind you to ensure he didn’t trip over the entrance from the patio. 

during his journey to the bedroom, you buried your face into his neck, peckering on the veins that branched out into beautiful streams of blue.

your tongue found his racing pulse just as he kneed the door open to the room.

he laid you down on the edge of the bed, choosing to return the favor and kiss along your neck. 

your hands couldn’t decide on a spot to grab, so you kept them tangled in his hair.  

you had to be as convincing as possible that you craved this too, but it didn’t seem that hard to do when he caressed you in all the right places.   

“i’ve waited so long for this, for you…”

his voice had gone even deeper, vibrating against your collarbone as he kissed there. 

he continued further, meeting your chest that so desperately needed to be exposed. his teeth tugged on your hardened nipples through your cotton shirt, earning yet another whimper that bounced off the painted walls of the bedroom. 

he was dependent on your noises of pleasure, desperate to hear every sound that told him he was doing well.

just as you blinked, he lifted your shirt, with not enough patience to take it the rest of the way off. his mouth latched onto your sensitive nipple, soothing the sting with his tongue every time he nipped it between his teeth. 

he gave the same amount of attention to the other, swirling his wet muscle along every inch of your breasts. deep down, you wanted him to inch further towards where he deserved to be.

but you felt so sinful for thinking so. 

he continued his descent, kissing along the flesh of your tummy and down to your pelvis. his eyes remained closed while doing so, as if he was already familiar with every feature of your lower body. you hadn’t even realized that he tugged your pajama pants off, discarding them somewhere on the floor.

you couldn’t bring yourself to focus on him, though you knew he had a look of pure bliss; excited to finally take what was his.

you jumped at the feeling of his nose resting on your clit, even rubbing it back and forth, painfully slow. he inhaled deeply, taking in your scent that was bound to get stronger once he took off your panties.

your entire body jolted from his tongue tapping your sensitive nub, causing all of your blood to rush to that spot. he poked at a faster pace, but it wasn’t enough to satisfy the ache in your core, nor nullify the guilt you felt from actually enjoying it.  

he was teasing, obviously wanting to savor every moment that had no guarantee of happening again. 

“all mine…” he purposefully whispered close to your clothed heat, the spurts of air hitting your dampened panties with every unhinged word he spoke. 

you wiggled your bottom half, coaxing him into giving the attention you so desperately needed.

he was receptive to your attempts, immediately hooking his hands under the seam of your panties and pulling them off in one fell swoop. you kept your arms close to your upper body as a way to console yourself for how far you let this go. 

he pried your legs open wide, pushing them back so they were bent at the knee. his hands rested on top, pausing to inhale your scent once more. 

you kept the view below hidden with your arms, as the sight would be too much to take in. the mere feeling of him licking a single strip with his flattened tongue, from your puckered hole all the way up to your engorged clit forced a complete sigh of relief out of your body. 

you covered your mouth with your hands as a result, conflicted on whether or not you should hold it in anymore.

judging by the pause, jeno wasn’t pleased with your concealment. 

“don’t fucking cover your mouth.”

he spoke right into your pussy, eyes trained on your next move. you obeyed him that easily, placing your arms down at your sides to grip the sheets. 

as soon as you looked down, you were met with a sight that would ultimately defy all virtue left in your sickened world. 

jeno’s eyes were locked onto you, lapping at your slick with such determination to make you cum from his mouth alone. 

his hands had moved from your legs to your thighs, making sure to keep you static through it all. 

he did everything right—sucking on your clit, dragging it lightly between his teeth, covering every inch of your folds with his spit.

each time he propelled his saliva onto your wet cunt, you couldn’t help but try to close your thighs around his head; all purity soiled by the way he defiled your pussy. 

you knew it would only get filthier from here.

he snaked his left hand down, the pads of his thumb coming to rest on your pulsating bundle of nerves. his other hand formed a union between his fore and middle finger, making a way to your entrance.

it was evident through your prolonged captivity that jeno would feel resistance as he eased his two fingers inside. he wasn’t as slow as you hoped, but if it was for the sake of prepping, you would take what warnings he gave you. 

all three of his methods worked in reducing the pressure in your pelvic floor, but you still felt as though you could never truly be ready for his cock, mentally or physically. 

“you can barely take my fingers, fuck…”

he took the chance to curve his fingers inside you, creating friction as he scraped against your spot effortlessly. 

your entire world was spinning, and it was just the beginning. 

he was steady as he fucked you with his fingers, never once loosing sight of how ruined you were. 

the squelching from your walls suffocating his digits caused his sweatpants to feel uncomfortably tight. 

he couldn’t wait to stretch you full. 

the denial you onced claimed, began to wash away as you felt your orgasm approaching. 

his pace increased, creating a rhythm that was bound to make you crash. 

“i-i cant! please!” 

jeno ignored your cries, utterly content with forcing it out of you whether or not you wanted him to stop.  

you grabbed a fistful of his hair again, resting your fingers in his scalp as your whole body convulsed. 

constellations flooded your vision, blinding you from the reality of your guilt. you couldn’t help but grind into his face, prolonging the peak of your climax. 

all but his mouth left your pussy, his hands ushering your lower body even closer.

he managed to stay latched onto your beating clit, as your body continued to spasm. he truly didn’t want to leave that spot, as he found himself completely drunk off of what you gifted him. 

the amount of your juices that painted his mouth and chin, was proof.

you barely had enough core strength to lessen the impact of your legs falling against the bed as jeno rose to his feet.

he undressed himself within seconds, tossing the items of clothing inside the open closet. 

all you could do was lay there and be a tool, trying your hardest not to react to the size of his cock. 

there truly wasn’t anywhere he could fit, not even in your mouth if he wanted you there. 

you managed to survive this far, but you were already second-guessing your chances the moment he positioned his naked body in front of you.  

there was complete truth in how perfect he was—toned muscles, smooth complexion, and veins that branched out in every direction, most notably in his arms and hands. 

he was the epitome of virility. 

you were merely just a vessel for him to use and destroy. 

“take off your shirt.” 

he stroked his length, watching you fumble with the piece of clothing bunched around your neck.

as soon as you discarded it, he lifted both of your legs up, letting his shaft plop onto your wet mound. the sound was filthy, an indication of how wet you were. 

he started to glide his length up and down your pussy, practically wet humping your slick as if you weren’t overstimulated from his oral assault only minutes prior. you involuntarily jerked at the contact of his tip rubbing your abused clit, watching as he dragged his bottom lip between his teeth at your undoing.

he finally let his grinding come to a halt; tip stopping right at your navel. 

precum leaked inside the natural divet in your skin, forming a pool from his arousal. 

“pl-please jeno…i need you.” 

you no longer cared if it hurt, all that mattered was being at his complete disposal. 

he listened to your desires, finally conjoining your bodies as one. the stretch was uncomfortable, burning even. but the satisfaction that followed, negated every ounce of hatred you used to feel. 

you attempted to breathe through the discomfort, but all you could produce was a gasp as he eased his way further. even through the pain, you could see in his face that you were his entire world. 

his mouth hung open, eyes rolling back for a second before gaining focus on your effort to accomodate his size. a line of saliva fell from his lips onto his shaft, making more of a mess than was thought possible. 

you were severely uncoordinated from the intensity of your previous orgasm, but that didn’t stop you from pulling him in for a kiss as he bottomed out. you moaned into his mouth, slurping on his tongue to taste what remained of your essence. 

he furrowed his brow when you clenched down as hard as his girth would allow, sucking him further inside your cervix.

he finally took it upon himself to move, feeling resistance as he geared up to piston inside you. his hands made their way from your thighs to your neck, gripping hard enough to make a vein visibly pulse against your temple. you placed your hands on top of his, hoping he wouldn’t take that as a sign to soften his hold on your throat. 

this was everything you wanted. the exhilaration of being on the brink of death, a stark contrast to how he’s made you feel before. tingling littered under where his palms squeezed, causing you to writhe in pleasure as he drilled into your pussy. 

no matter how hard he squeezed, you trusted that he wouldn’t end you. not when he was completely buried in your walls, growling in your ear at how well you took his cock. 

“you’re so perfect, taking my dick so well…” his words sounded muddled from the ringing present in your ears, you weren’t even sure you comprehended them correctly through the high building up inside you a second time.

you managed to let a moan escape through the restriction as he pushed both of your bodies higher on the bed, having enough skill to remain inside you the entire time. 

jeno noticed your eyelids begin to flutter, a sign that you were teetering on the edge. he relished in the sight—your body slumped against him, your vocal chords attempting to produce noise but ultimately failing.

you were officially cock drunk, inebriated by how well he fucked you dumb. 

even through the haze, you could see him enjoying every second, tugging on his lips to suppress the animalistic sounds brewing deep within his chest. 

he finally took his hands away, allowing your senses to restore from the lack of oxygen. your chest heaved profusely, causing your back to arch as if you were being exorcized.

his stamina was still just as unwavering, never once losing rhythm. just as you gained control of your breathing, he pushed your legs back towards your head, simultaneously being in awe of your flexibility. 

the sound of skin slapping hit against your eardrums with each strike, and now that there was a surge of pressure being applied to your throat from this new position, you could barely vocalize how flawless he was at hitting your spot every, single, time.

you could feel his length twitching, veins swelling, and balls slapping against your ass with every thrust. 

your stomach tightened from the pressure against your womb, forming a wave that you were bound to drown in. 

“i know you’re close…cum on my cock…fuck.” he gulped in between, trying his hardest to hide the shakiness in his voice. he was just as close as you were, ready to explode at any moment. 

all it took was for him to pause and grind into you slowly.

and with it, came a cathartic release. 

a string of moans finally escaped through your restriction, forming a melody for jeno to absorb in his frenzied brain. 

unhinged groans fell from his lips as he emptied his seed; silken fluid overflowing and mixing with your own.

you clenched around his dick even harder than before, milking him for everything he was worth.

he stilled inside you for a while, practically putting all of his body weight on you while you remained in that position.  

the back of your thighs were sure to have bruises from how long he had kept his hands there. but you wouldn’t trade those marks for the world. 

you shuddered as he exited you without warning, shifting to lay by your side. even through the silence, your thoughts were loud. 

he came inside you, and it was obvious that the aftermath of the situation plagued his mind too.

—

you pretended to be asleep. though jeno was a different story, which all worked in your favor. as the morning progressed, he pulled your backside into his chest, one arm resting on your waist and the other under your neck. it was a surprise to you, considering he never touched you in his sleep. 

the main complication you faced now was slipping out of his arms without waking him. 

you were still backed up against his front when you lifted your head to view the time. 

the nightstand clock read 7:32am. 

if you didn’t act soon, you would be put underground, allowing someone else to take your place and experience the same horrors as you. 

you wiggled yourself to test his stimuli, no response. so you did it again, nothing.

you carefully lifted his arm that was on your waist and began to scoot towards the side of the bed. he stirred once, but not enough to fully rouse him. 

the time read 7:37pm when you finally stood to your feet. 

you could’ve made your way to the kitchen, but cleaning up was definitely a priority. 

you treaded lightly towards the bathroom, not even bothering to bring clothes. as you stepped inside, you were met with abhorration. 

the person you saw in the mirror was barely recognizable, ravaged beyond repair. and no matter how hard you scrubbed your body, it still couldn’t wash away the bruises or the remnants of jeno that had been sitting inside you for the past two hours.  

hopefully by the time you got back to him, you would finally be purged of his undying affliction. 

the simple action of grabbing a knife from the kitchen wasn’t so simple in your regards. 

your anxiety started to rise as you entered the kitchen. there, laying on the counter, in a stainless steel holder, were your means of redemption. 

it didn’t matter what kind, just as long as it cut deep enough… 

the one you grabbed happened to be a paring knife; ideal for your method of use.

your hands were sweaty, making it difficult to grip thoroughly. but you managed with two hands, all the way back towards the bedroom. before jeno could potentially see you through the doorway, you switched your hands, positioning the knife behind your back.

he was still sleeping, peacefully.

the clock read 7:59am. any minute now. 

you walked around to where his back was facing you; his slow and steady breathing being a complete imbalance to your racing heart. 

you maintained a good grip of the knife as you slipped under the disheveled sheets, attempting to straddle him and in turn wake him up for his departure. 

at first, he grimaced, wondering why his sleep was being disturbed. but once his eyes fluttered open, he smiled, blissfully unaware of your deception. 

he turned onto his back so you could straddle him properly, his body heat greeting you like the sun.

he lifted his hands and started to caress your thighs, creating goosebumps along your tender skin. he seemed to be focused on the bruising, expression filled with pride at how hard he claimed you.

you fought with every fiber of your being to hold back tears as you lowered yourself onto his chest. 

you met his soft lips for the last time. sealing his fate with a kiss. 

you exposed the knife in your right hand before sinking it into his side, the impedance of his tough flesh trying to stop you from sinking the blade in deep. 

you kept your eyes closed through it all, but you could feel his mouth open in shock. 

your tears finally broke, and just as you felt them separate from your chin, you opened your eyes.  

and stabbed again. 

and again.

and again. 

you flinched each time, waiting for a piercing cry, but there was nothing. his mouth hung open in agony, trying to produce a scream, but there was nothing. 

his skin had turned pale, eyes dilated and whirling out of control. soon came the blood, painting your hands, the sheets, and his tepid skin. 

you buried your face into his neck, hoping to hear his pulse slowly drift away. 

instead you were met with his last words,

“you made it…”

—

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[slippinmickeys]

A prompt, formally. Shepherdstown WV.

Mulder pulled the car into the gravel lot and cut the engine. In front of them was a long wood building, painted a light blue. Over the entrance was an olde-tymey sign that said “O’Hurley’s General Store,” and on every conceivable surface on the rest of the building, it listed its wares: Glassware, Hardware, Furniture, Yard Goods. Hats, Music, Dolls. Housewares, Toys. Guns, Knives, Tools.

Scully threw him a skeptical look. “Did you…forget to pack something?” she asked.

Mulder put his seat back and settled in. “No,” he said. “We’re here on surveillance.”

Scully balked. “Surveillance?”

Mulder nodded. “I think our suspect shops here.”

“I wasn’t aware we had a suspect.”

Mulder turned to her. “We talked about this. The witch.”

“You’re right, Mulder, we did talk about this.” Scully could hear the whining in her own voice and did her best to level it. “Just because there was a pentagram found near the body doesn’t mean it was a ritual sacrifice. I explained this to the Sheriff as well.”

“It wasn’t just the pentagram, Scully. There was salt on the scene. Incense. All items used in ritual consecration practices.”

“t was the kitchen of a college student, Mulder. Salt and incense are pretty much par for the course.”

“Your autopsy showed he was killed with a sharp knife, ‘likely with a curved blade,’” he invoked a line directly from her report.

“…and that means witch?”

Mulder smiled at her. “The boline is a white-handled, curved, ritual knife, used mainly for the cutting of herbs and inscribing candles.”

Scully leaned back begrudgingly in her own seat. He wasn’t going to let this go.

“Fine. Our suspect is a witch. Why would he or she be shopping here?”

Mulder reached in his pocket and pulled out a folded up flier for the store they were parked in front of. Scully pursued the list.

“Cast iron,” she read off. “Enamelware. Dinner bells.”

Mulder nodded enthusiastically. “Candles,” he said. “Coffins. Frogs.” He pointed at the words painted on the side of the building. “Plus dolls. Dry goods. Knives.”

Scully turned to look at him.

“One stop shop for your modern day witch,” he said with a smile.

Scully looked back down at the advertisement, feeling her irritation give way to bemusement. “Who in the world drops into a general store to pick up a steam engine?” she said.

“Probably the same person who goes in for an anvil.”

She graced him with a grin.

“They sell ‘notions?’” She had to admit to being at least a little bit charmed.

Mulder bent his head to peer through the windshield at the store. “I really want to go in.”

Scully unbuckled her seatbelt. “So let’s go in.”

His eyes lit up. “Really?”

“Open your door before I change my mind.”

Mulder whipped off his own seatbelt and was out the door before Scully had a chance to button her coat.

She followed him up the gravel walkway, the stones crunching crisply under their feet. “I’ll bet you twenty bucks it smells weird in there,” she said.

“There’s no way I take that bet,” he replied, smiling. He trotted up the steps and held open the door for her and she shuffled in and turned to him, tapping her nose. His smile grew wider.

Scully then paused, five steps in, taken aback by the sight before her.

“Jesus,” she said. “I’ve never seen so much crap in one place.”

”Isn’t it great?” Mulder beamed.

A saleswoman appeared from behind a behemoth stack of crockery.

“Can I help you find anything?” she asked.

Mulder looked poised to say something she would probably wish he wouldn’t, so she decided to carry the mantle herself.

“Any chance you have a cauldron?” Scully asked.

“Absolutely!” The woman said brightly.

“How about a besome? A censer? An Athame?”

The saleswoman smiled. “Right this way,” she said, turning to make her way around several large barrels filled with wax-wrapped salt water taffy.

When Scully turned to see if Mulder was following her, she found him glued to the spot, his mouth agape.

“Scully?”

“Yeah?” she asked, more than a little pleased with herself.

“If they sell engagement rings, I’m buying you one.”

[uollop]

Pearlescent (Mer!Vash x Reader pt. 1)

Content: Mermaid Vash, GN! Reader, oceans (ofc), deep water, lifeguard reader, reader is ticklish

Word count: 2.3k

Notes: Happy MerMay! Mermaid AU won the poll pretty easily, so here it is! I hope you all enjoy it :))

Next Part

Vash had always been curious about humans, but his brother has always attempted to dissuade him from investigating them "for his own safety".

Knives would tell him stories about humans and the cruel things that they would do, but the tales didn't do much to satiate Vash's curiosity.

He would people-watch often, lurking in water that was likely too close to the shore for Knives' liking, simply watching the humans swim and talk and play. Watching them walk around on the beach had him wondering what it would feel like to walk with them. What the sand would feel like as he moved across the warm dunes.

He knew it was impossible, though. His tail prevented him from being able to enjoy nearly all of the activities that he was desiring to join in on.

It was getting late today, most of the humans had already left the water because of the chill in the air settling into the sea. Only a few remained on the sand, packing up their belongings to leave. He continued to watch, wondering where they went when they weren't at the beach. He was watching so intently that he didn't realize someone paddling over to him on a surfboard.

"Do you need help getting to the shore? It's getting cold, if you stay in the water any longer you'll get sick." When you spoke, you nearly scared the poor fish right out of his scales. Most humans ignored him during the day, but it seems he outstayed his welcome.

He recognized you. You were always sitting up high above the others, watching them during the day and occasionally blowing some kind of mechanism at them if they misbehaved. You were obviously some kind of an important person, seeing as they listened to you and that you were seated higher than the rest of them. Were you one of those royals that he had heard about in Nai's stories? He had been told about how cruel the Kings and Queens of the humans could be, but you seemed to hold a kindness behind your eyes that calmed his worries a bit.

"You've been in the water nearly all day," you laugh nervously at the lack of a response as you hold your hand out for him, "aren't you tired?"

He slowly blinked at you, a bit confused, before shaking his head, lowering himself deeper into the water so that it was only his blue eyes poking out. You watched him with curiosity before he suddenly dove under the water, splashing you a bit with the cold water as he swam away. Your eyes widened as he disappeared, cursing to yourself as you stared into the dark water. You waited a bit for him to come back up before you started to grow worried.

You slowly climbed off your board, allowing yourself to sink into the freezing water, goosebumps popping up across your skin as you tried to look into the water without fully submerging yourself. You couldn't even make out his shape anymore. You started to worry more, dipping your head under the water and opening your eyes, looking around. The salt of the water burned your eyes as you swam deeper, looking around for the blond.

It was so dark in the water that you could barely see anything that wasn't directly in front of you, but you managed to make out a silhouette deeper in the water. You swam towards it, reaching a hand towards the shadow before it swam further away. You narrowed your eyes and continued to swim after it, sure that it was the strange man that had been sitting in the ocean all day, watching people on the beach.

You had noticed him a few weeks ago. He came nearly every day, but you never saw him get into the water. He would always mysteriously appear in the part of the water that was too deep for most humans to swim comfortably, but he never seemed to mind. You were curious about him and, when you noticed he was the only one still in the water despite the bite in the air, you decided to go check on him.

His silence at your offer to help him towards the beach had concerned you a bit and, now, your concern got worse. You were starting to run out of air, but the shadow kept going deeper. As much as you wanted to keep following him, the stinging feeling in your lungs was enough to convince you to swim back towards the surface.

When you broke, you gasped, allowing air to fill your aching lungs as you coughed and rubbed your sore eyes. You were a trained lifeguard and he had been able to stay under much longer than you. You looked around the surface of the water, trying to see if he had surfaced while you were swimming back up, but you couldn't see him anywhere.

Panic continued to settle on your skin at the eerily quiet scene. The only movement in the water appeared to be your own as you frantically scanned the sea. You took a deep breath before dunking your head back under the water, almost screaming when you opened your eyes and you're met with bright blue eyes inches away from your face. You narrow your eyes at him and reach out to grab his arm before you realize something was off.

The first thing you see are the scars littered across his body. It was difficult to find a patch of skin that wasn't darkened by a slash or a stitch. There was also a concerning absence of a left arm, a short nub replacing where it should be.

You continue to glance down and notice something slightly more worrying. Instead of legs, he had a long... fish tail? You couldn't make it out well due to the pitch darkness that surrounded you both, but you were certain that you knew what legs looked like, and that thing definitely was not a pair of legs.

You reached out and grabbed his arm gently before allowing yourself to pop above the surface again, gasping for air and pulling him towards your surfboard. You released his arm once he surfaced, his scarred hand placing itself onto your surfboard. You reached towards the board and pulled yourself onto it, shuddering at the feeling of the cold air before looking back at him.

"You..." you trailed off as you stared at him, unsure if what you saw was real, "you aren't human, are you?"

He continues to stare at you, unspeaking before making a quiet chirping noise. You continue to stare at him in awe before shaking your head.

"Ok, um. I guess you're okay to stay in the water then... My shift is almost over, so I, uh..." You looked at him again before moving into a position that would allow you to paddle away easily. "I hope you have a good night. I assume you'll be here again tomorrow?" You ask cautiously before he nods and gives you a wide smile, showing off rows and rows of pointy teeth. It was almost cute. Mostly scary, but almost cute.

You slowly started to make your way back to the shore, occasionally glancing back at him. Every time you checked, it seemed like he wasn't getting any further away. Maybe he was even getting closer. Was he following you? You kept paddling, unsure if you were imagining things until you eventually made it to the shore and pulled your board out of the water. You turned towards him and see that he had pulled himself onto a nearby rock, his eyes still watching you.

Your eyes flicker down towards where his legs should be, your breath hitching as you get a better view of his tail. A long fish tail, covered in red and turquoise scales shimmered in the moonlight. You definitely hadn't seen it wrong; he was a merman.

You silently stare at his tail for a few more moments before you hear another chirping noise. You look up and see him patting the spot next to him on the flat rock. It takes you a moment to realize he wants you to sit with him, a patient look on his face as he taps his hand against the rock again.

You walk up to him and sit on the rock with him, a happy sounding noise coming from him as he immediately grabs your leg, causing you to yelp in surprise as your back hits the cold surface of the rock.

He examines your leg, a curious and excited look on his face as he squeezes your skin, stretching your leg out for a moment and then bending it at your knee, an amused chirp coming from him as he continues to move your leg back and forth.

You're confused at first before you realize that he doesn't have legs and that he probably isn't used to seeing them this close. You let him continue, until his hand brushes the underside of your foot, causing you to jolt and let out a stifled laugh.

He notices your reaction and repeats his movement, a large smile on his face. You laugh again, attempting to pull your leg away from him, but his grip is strong. He continues to touch along different parts of your leg and foot, smiling to himself.

Eventually he releases your leg and, for a moment, you thought it was over, until he suddenly grabbed your other leg, lifting it was well and playing with it as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. It was as if he hadn't just played with a nearly identical one, but you allowed him to examine your leg for as long as he would like. He doesn't mess with this one for as long, his curiosity satisfied as he places his hand on his lap, looking at you for another moment before giving you a gentle wave.

You wave back at him, unsure of what to say or do at this point. He seemed friendly, despite his sharp teeth. You stared at him for another moment before he made another high-pitched noise, sliding himself off the rock and smiling at you before diving under the water.

You waited a moment or two, unsure if he was coming back or not, until his head popped back up from the water. He swam towards the rock and held out his fist towards you. You looked at his hand for a moment before slowly placing your own hand underneath it, allowing him to empty the contents of his hand into your palm.

You looked into your hand curiously, the moonlight reflecting against a bunch of colorful pieces of sea glass. You slowly reached for a blue one, holding it towards the sky and allowing the light to shine onto it. You lowered your hand and smiled at him, "this is very nice. Thank you."

He lets out a satisfied noise before diving back under the water. You watch him disappear and, this time, he is gone for a longer period of time. When he does return, though, he is holding a soaking cloth bag in his hand.

He places the bag in your lap, looking at you expectantly. You set down the handful of sea glass that you had been holding next to you on the rock before pulling open the cloth bag, your eyes widening.

The bag was full of many things. More sea glass, sand dollars, shells, and a few pearls. You stare in awe for a moment before you give him a happy smile.

"This is beautiful, you seem to have been collecting for a long time," you say as you hand the bag back to him. His grin turns into a frown when you hold the bag out to him. He reaches up and pushes the bag back into your lap, chirping again. You stare at him in confusion for a moment before shaking your head with a laugh.

"I can't possibly keep all of this," You lift the bag up again, ready to hand it back to him before he lets out a low growl. Your face turns from a happy one to one of shock. He places his hand on the bag again and pushes it into your lap one more time. You blink a few times as you look from the bag to him, unsure of what to do before you shrug, "Ok, ok... I'll keep it."

He lets out a noise of pride and reaches into the bag, pulling out one of the pearls and holding it up to the moonlight. The small pearl shimmered gently against the light, its blue color was similar to the color of the merman's eyes. He looks up at you as if waiting for your reaction, so you give him a nod.

"That's very cool." You say as you admire the pearl. His smile grows as he moves closer to you, placing the pearl in your palm. He makes another chirping noise before closing your hand around the small treasure. You watch him carefully before giving him another smile. He looks up at you, his cheeks dusting a pink color. He stares at you for a moment before you hear a distant chirping sound. The merman in front of you blinks in surprise, looking at you for one more beat before waving and diving into the depths of the sea.

You waited for a while, unsure if he would be coming back. After ten or so minutes of waiting, you determined that he likely wasn't going to be returning. You stand up, gathering the items he had given you and walking towards your lifeguard tower. You glance down at your hand, admiring the pearl he had given you. You placed in it your pocket before taking the rest of your stuff and heading towards the path away from the beach, looking back at the sea one more time before smiling to yourself.

You hoped to see him again tomorrow.

Masterlist | Ao3

[the-real-treasure]

Treasure Treasure!

A OPLA Sanji x Reader

Master List Here

Chapter One: Shipwrecks and Hopeless Dreams

Summary: There’s a boy in the kitchen you would rip out your heart for. He hopes it will never come to that.

Trigger Warning: Threats and descriptions of violence, blood and gore, starvation, depressing language(?), Reader's Devil Fruit power is overwhelming and overstimulating Word Count: 2,828 **Edited 12/09/24**

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Standing in the crows nest of the mizzenmast, the sea salted wind burned your cheeks. Two years aboard the Orbit, and you still weren't used to the grittiness of the air when out at sea. The whipping winds and swirling storm clouds did not ease your discomfort, especially with the growing height of the waves and the discontented rumblings of the wood beneath your feet.

Before you had stepped foot on the Orbit, before your and Sanji's new lives had started, if someone, anyone, had told you that ships could have dreams, you would have called them crazy. What would wooden planks and cloth sails know about dreams, wishes or aspirations you would have wondered to yourself. Now though, now, with the Orbit creaking and moaning for more adventurous tidings than carting cruising passengers across the seas of the East Blue, you knew better. Anything, anything, if imbued with enough spirit and life could dream of more.

You closed your eyes. You couldn't think about that now. The storm was already causing a headache.

Then, amongst the screaming of the wind and the roaring crash of the heightening waves around you, the sound of splintering wood cracks below you. Snapping your eyes open, you peered through the darkness below you, only to spot another ship lurching through the water towards you, yellow duck figurehead near indiscernible in the darkness of the sea's blackness.

Pirates.

The shout rang out alongside the continuing of cannon fire. The man in the far crows nest screamed as he toppled from his perch into the frothing and dark water below, but you paid no mind. It wasn't the most brutal death you'd seen and it wouldn't be the last, you were sure of it. There were more pressing matters to attend.

Sanji. I need to find Sanji.

Your heart was pounding in your ears as you scrambled down to the deck, guns firing and people screaming around you. To others, it would look disconcerting how calm an eight year old appeared in the presence of the scourge of the seas but in that moment you were solely focused on escaping below deck to find your reason for being your best and only friend aboard.

SANJI-SANJI-SANJI

Your mind screamed his name along to the roaring of your heartbeat, pushing, punching and driving through crowds of panicking cruisers, crewmembers and cackling pirates equipped with cooking utensils and wicked sharp knives.

(The planks below your feet roared with joy and ache. Finally something, finally adventure)

Finally reaching the door to the galley, the roaring of your heartbeat turned into an all out shriek, seeing your Sanji, your Sanji, held to the wall by a giant with a stupid braided moustache and a knife to his throat.

Your mind went blank and your blood boiled. The act was on of instinct as you leapt onto the pirates back with a ear rending screech, tearing at his face and eyes with your nails, desperate to pull his attention away from your Sanji. The blond idiot decided to ignore your obvious attempt to save him as he joined in your screeching and clawing of the giant man between you, wracking his nails against the hand holding him hostage as the ship around you roared in encouragement of your bloodthirsty nature.

So enraged were you with the threat to Sanji, that you didn't realise the roar was coming from the tearing of the wood as the combined rage of the storm, the boundless strength of the sea and the continued barrage of cannon fire tore the hull in twain, the entire ship toppling into the salty water.

(The Orbit ached. She was so alive, if only for a moment, she lived.)

It was as the sea lapped your ears, soaking the bandages wrapped around your palms and weighing down your forearms, that your blood pressure cooled and your thoughts started to drift away from you, all fight and blind rage lost to the frigid water. You didn't register the desperate arms of a terrified child wrapping around your torso, or being scooped up like a sack of potatoes as your consciousness slipped into the dark depths of the East Blue. All you could see in front of misty eyes was the warm glow of yellow light on a stormy night, a blonde haired blue eyed figure looking down at you. Making you promise to try.

I'm sorry. I really did try.

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It was the unfiltered sunlight and warm stone below your cheek that woke you. Prying open your salt encrusted lashes was a trial, but catching a glimpse of Sanji lying strewn across the rockface beside you spurred your body to action, legs launching you up right and towards him before your surroundings had even registered.

You nearly collapsed on top of him, grasping desperately at his clammy and bloody cheeks. He was breathing and you joined him after a moment of pure stillness. Rage began to rattle trough you as he roused and you made eye contact with the man who had held him in harms way, stupid braided moustache drooping in the intense sun. Sanji's voice called from behind you to the man perched on the rock's edge.

"What happened?"

"A storm." The man's voice sounded gritty, like the wind had felt last night. Your nails dug into your palms. "Sunk both our ships."

"But..." His voice was weak and tired. "But the crew?"

"They're dead, aren't they?" It wasn't a question, not with the way you snarled it around your mouth like a sour juice. "Your pirates killed them all, left us to get shipwrecked!"

"All dead," he didn't blink at the accusation, "except for us."

You could hear the shuffling on the rocks as Sanji sat up behind you. "What d'we do?"

"We wait. And we hope that a passing ship spots us before that sun," he gestured to the horizon, "bleaches our bones."

“Now. This is all the food we got.” He stands from his perch at the edge, grabbing the smaller of 2 canvas sacks and tossing it at the two of you. “So eat slow. There’s no more after this.”

Rage swells in you but, still weak from the sea water and already starting to bake under the bright sun, you know none of you are in a fit state to start picking fights just yet. Sanji disagrees with you, glaring between the old man and the larger sack behind him.

”Why do you get the bigger one?!” H pulled himself up off the rocks and lurched into your back, steadfastness refusing to let him approach the pirate in front of you.

”’Cause I’m three times your size, that’s why!”

”There are two of us!” Sanji roared back.

The man snarled down at him over your shoulder and you nudged him further behind you.

”You know something? You should be glad that I’m giving you anything at all. Now,” Looking between the pair of you with a glare, “go over to the other side and keep lookout. And I mean it. Don’t bother me unless you see a ship.” He tilted his head, “You got it?”

He makes eye contact with you and crowds your space, spittle flicking into your eyes and making you yearn for the salty winds of the crows nest.

”I said, you got it?!” You feel Sanji shying into your back, he was two years your senior but you refused to do anything other than put yourself between him and potential threats. “Now go!”

Sanji grabs the sack and begins storming his way up the rock face behind you. You step back, intending to follow but refusing to be the first to drop eye contact. Deeming you no threat, how could you be with no weapons and nails torn blunt and bloody from the scratches in his face, he turns and returns to his sea-facing vigil. You turn and follow Sanji over the rocks.

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The island was cone shaped from what you could gather. Peering over the edge as you skirted around the perimeter, you saw the rock fall away into the sea, having worn away from decades, maybe centuries of corrosion by the sea. Thick needles jutted out of the surrounding water, and you think for a second on how funny and strange the luck of your life was. Any other group thrown against these rocks would have been naught but shreds of meat, not even a carcass left for seabirds to pick at but no. Not you and Sanji, you just had to survive and be left stranded on a ridiculous rock in the middle of the ocean with a blood soaked, waterlogged and irritable pirate to boot.

(Hatred, paranoia, apathy. They rang through your bones like vibrations through a bell, ringing through your head. The island hated you being here as much as you hated being here.)

It had been almost a month on the rock and as the rain pelted down on you and your golden boy, a familiar hopelessness  had landed squarely in your mind. Hidden in a small outcropping in the barren rock, you both shielded yourselves as best you could from the torrential downpour. You were barely dozing, trying to keep in front of the idiot boy beside you as the wind howled across the darkness of the sea, soaking you in cold and noise and bells-

Bells? Both your heads raised as the faintest ringing of a ships bells echoed out of the storm, and in the distance you could barely make out the outline of a ship on the horizon. Wild panic seized you both as you leapt out of your cover screaming for its attention. You both pushed through the hunger and exhaustion and screamed at the top of your lungs,  begging for them to hear you.

They didn’t.

(Hatred, paranoia, apathy. Hatred, paranoia, apathy. The cycle rang and rang and rang.)

A few days later you both sat at the edge of your island. It was yours now. No one else would want it and the only other person here was an awful silent pirate you hadn’t seen in weeks.

(You quietly hoped he was dead.)

You both looked at the last loaf of bread, blue mouldy and hard. Sanji tore off two pieces, handing one to you and quietly looking at the other.

You both eat in silence.

Over two months had passed on the barren rock. There was no food left from your sack.

(You had stopped counting the cycles.)

You had lost the sense of hunger to a complete emptiness a few days ago, after having spent days passing back and forth the tiniest morsels of anything, both refusing to take the last bite until you were trying to shovel crumbs into his mouth. You had nearly broken your promise already and you refused to let hunger make you break it truly this time.

(But they just wouldn’t stop ringing.)

Sanji sat beside you with his arms wrapped around his stomach, grimacing and quivering almost imperceptibly.

”The old man had twice as much food.” Your eyes moved slowly over to him as his trembling grew more noticiable.

(Hatred.)

”We can last a few more days.” His head snapped to you.

”Can we?” He was near hysterics.

(Paranoia.)

”Give it a few more days, we can’t afford to be stupid-” He staggered to his feet ignoring you.

”We can’t afford to be this hungry. He has twice. As much. Food.” And he was off. “If he won’t give us any, I’ll kill him myself.”

(Apathy.)

”No, Sanji-” You pulled yourself up after him, scrabbling for purchase on the rocks as your torn and blistered hands pushed you up.

(The ringing won’t stop)

He grabbed the knife and climbed over the rock separating the two of you from the old man. The bedraggled pirate, hair a mess but moustache still neat looked up at you as you both stumbled down towards him.

”Thought I told you both to stay put?” Sanji gasped and panted as he reached the sack on the ground, you barely caught yourself from falling into his back as you caught the back of his shirt.

(Hatred.)

”You still have some food. You gotta give us some!” Metal clinked against metal as he tore through the bag with the small knife, ripping the canvas and allowing the contents to spill on to the stone.

(Paranoia.)

Gold and jewels tumbled out of the bag, no food in sight. You pulled yourself away from Sanji as he gutted the bag, slowly approaching the worn down man as the boy was yanking out more and more gems and treasure in a desperate search for sustenance. You stopped short of him as Sanji gasped behind you.

”Where is it?! Where is it?” He advanced on you both waving the knife through the air, “There’s no food, how are you still alive?!” He stumbled to a stop beside you, following your gaze to the tied off and bloody trouser where the man’s limb used to be. Your voice was barely a whisper, throat dry and cracking from dehydration.

(Apathy.)

”Your leg…” Sanji finished the question for you.

(The ringing stopped.)

”What happened?” Two pairs of eyes followed his averted gaze to the sharp flat rock a few feet from him, the tip coated with a small layer of gore and stained in blood. “You ate it?! You ate your own leg?”

A wave of exhaustion hit you, and you slowly lowered yourself to sit again on the rock, eyes focused on the gorey sight but unseeing.

”You gave us all the food. Why?! You don’t even know us, why would you do that for a stranger?”

”Because, little eggplant…” His voice suddenly sounded as tired as you felt, head sinking, “I have been searching for the All Blue… my whole life. But now my time has come to an end. You share the same dream as me.”

(Your head pounds and the feeling -ever present, ever cloying- in your chest swells. Something inside you whispers thrills to you.)

”Believe me, the All Blue is real.”

(Believe me)

“It’s real. And if I can’t find it, then maybe you can.”

(Swirling blues, giant fish alien to you swimming in endless circles)

”So I’m gonna need you to live on. And I’m gonna need you…”

(Crystal waters as clear as glass)

”…to fulfil that dream…”

(Far far away, but it pulses and you feel it in your heart and your mind and your whole being)

”…for both of us.”

Sanji collapses onto the rock beside you, his head rested on your shoulder as, not for the first time, you wish that stupid disgusting fruit you were force fed as a child was actually useful. Of the three left for you to pick from, of course yours was a compass for the fools and idiots who had a hope of an immense and impressive future.

There was a world in which your ridiculous Treasure Treasure fruit had been replaced with the Gem Gem fruit, at least you could have created a shelter, as sparkly as it may have been, or the Pal Pal fruit and you could have enlisted the assistance of some dolphins or sharks, maybe even a passing Sea Beast to aid you off this rock.

No. You were left with the image of a brilliant swirling cerulean lagoon, teaming with fish and plant life the likes of which no man could even dream of in his wildest most ludicrous musings. You couldn’t even pinpoint it on a map if you wanted, only the vaguest of directions and destinations were afforded to your brain.

You raised your arm, jostling Sanji’s head and both men turned their head to follow it as you pointed off into the horizon. A small smile grows on his exhausted, sun soaked, blood encrusted face as he realises where you’re pointing.

”It’s still far away.” Your mumble barely audible.

(It reminds you of hiding in a dark dank corridor, clutching a book to your chest as you stare into the sobbing eyes of a terrified child and your chest clutches at the memory.)

”Too far?” The man is looking at you both like you’ve finally lost it, but this is a routine, well practiced but almost forgotten to the hopeless situation you’re all in.

(You wished you had remembered earlier. This will have to do.)

”Never too far. Not for us.” Your misty eyes turn to meet cloudy blue that start to clear for the stars to sparkle in.

”Have you worked out how long it’ll take to get there yet?” You chuckle and smile, the first real one in weeks.

”No. Weeks maybe. More likely months, could even be years.” Your eyes clear up with his and you turn a bright grin to the confused pirate beside you. “But the All Blue is out there.”

”And I can lead you to what you'll treasure most!”

Next Chapter: Straw Hats and Treasure Maps

[leonawriter]

Okay apparently I'm going to do a study on this introduction, because going back to it? Especially knowing more about Hakuba via more recent Magic Kaito chapters? Fascinating stuff.

So. Hakuba's introducing himself, and he starts out by bringing up "My father spoke of you often" and "It seems you're a very sharp detective." Both of those are positive!

Hakuba is... high society, compared to Hattori simply hanging out around high ranking people and treating them like normal. Hattori argues with Kazuha in a very down to earth way, while Hakuba knows how to drink tea and probably how to set the table with a full set of cutlery (or at least how to use them).

So, Hakuba using their fathers to introduce himself is, to him, a normal enough way to say "I've heard good things about you, we're similar, I hope we can get along well."

What's more - Shinichi realises that, pretty quickly. Even if they hadn't met previously, he'd have been able to figure out by the words being used, that Saguru's father knows Heiji's father, or that they're in the same business.

If anything, I'd say that this slight culture clash is the second step of things going wrong between Hattori and Hakuba here, right after Hakuba being present at all, since Hattori had wanted Shinichi to take his rightful place where Hakuba is currently sitting.

Strike one, strike two.

Unfortunately, it gets worse from there, and I'm gonna go into it.

But then Hakuba brings up that he's not even fully based in Japan. To which, mostly Hattori is just "wait, what?" - but although I'm sure he means it simply to be as clear as possible, that could also be read as "I would say that, but I'm actually better." As in, being smug.

Strike three.

Still with "Kudo is the high school detective of the east, that's obvious, isn't it?" and rubbing salt into the insult to Hattori's bro with "they'd have liked me to represent the east in his place" but...

Oh boy.

This... this is also where I just stared and held my head in my hands because now? Because of something Hattori's said, and what he's going to continue saying/leaning into... we need to go back in time.

All the way back in Hakuba Saguru's first appearance, the papers say "just returned from London," suggesting (as I've seen someone say before) that he'd spent at least some, if not much, of his youth in Japan.

Certainly, he doesn't seem to speak with an accent in the present day, so he can't have grown up in the UK and only sometimes lived in Japan.

In Japan, however, he is referred to as...

In Nakamori's (uncouth) words at their first meeting, "Y-you're that bastard from London!"

No mention of how he has a fully Japanese name, partially Japanese features, a Japanese father, and no accent.

His introductory splash also frames him with the Union Jack behind him, showing off his Holmes cosplay and light hair. Almost all the major characters in the series have blue eyes, but here it's rather... plainly emphasising his Western features. His non-Japanese-ness.

Now, I do have to wonder if Gosho wrote that back in 1990 and hadn't given much thought to it. I certainly don't think it was intentionally cruel.

However, by volume 40, released in 2003, he's learned a bit more about social prejudice, and shows this with the Professor's First Love story:

This shows something that happened 40 years ago in-universe, with a girl of Japanese-American descent who has light, gingko colour hair, being very aware of how different she is, and not wanting her friend to see. She calls her hair "weird" and starts to cry.

Coming back to the present - content released in 2006 - let me go back to Hakuba Saguru.

Hattori "That's obvious, isn't it? And yer not even from this country to begin with."

Oh, Hattori. Only the previous case had you seeing how words can be as sharp as knives, and can hurt people.

Saguru doesn't seem too bothered at first, however...

First off, he points out that it isn't even his fault he's "taken Kudo's place" in the first place!

They contacted his housekeeper, who he's been shown to be very close with (I'd hazard a guess to say that, having not seen his mother at all, or seen her mentioned, Baaya is closer to him than his parents are), and when she heard that her charge would only be taking someone else's place since they weren't there, she got offended on his behalf.

Saguru, who loves this woman like she's literally his nanny, could hardly say no at that point.

More to the point: how he says "But it appears I am unfit to represent the East..."

So now we have Hattori having come in wanting his best friend to be represented and not sidelined just because of circumstances out of his control, and being in a bad mood immediately because of someone else having been called in. He also possibly inflates the number of cases he worked on or solved, by including childhood adventures, leading Saguru to point out that his count is only low if you only count the ones in one country. Saguru attempts to make friends with him regardless, and that doesn't work because Hattori is still stuck on how Saguru is "taking Kudo's place" and then focuses in on how Saguru "isn't even from this country" which... starts leaning into the uncomfortable territory of "Hattori I love you to pieces but are you being racist/xenophobic right now?"

I say that in the context of how Japan has a really big problem with seeing anyone who isn't fully Japanese as Not Japanese Enough, as I went into earlier. I don't think he's aware how he's coming across, by the way; he's simply got a big case of foot-in-mouth.

So now instead of having come to this conclusion organically and naturally, Saguru is offering to take the place of "Guest Participant from Overseas" to placate Hattori.

I'd imagine he won't be wanting to tell Baaya about that, for sure.

Saguru goes on to suggest that Conan (i.e, Shinichi himself) should represent the East instead.

I reiterate: they could well have come to this conclusion over a friendly conversation, because of how they have five detectives. But instead now Saguru has ceded his position to (as far as he knows) a child. A very clever child, but a child nonetheless.

The next time we're back at the island with Hattori and the others, he's already decided he doesn't like "that smug guy."

As said before, there are plenty of things that Hattori could have picked up on that'd suggest Saguru "looked down on people" and "had a prideful way of thinking" and he certainly could appear smug in his achievements.

Hattori himself says that Saguru was "was like a copy of [Kudo]." But he has decided he doesn't like Hakuba, therefore he won't like Hakuba.

A moment of Saguru bonding with Natsuki over their natural brown hair, a shared trait - we can see him smiling after saying "But... there aren't any tv cameras yet, so you could do what you want for tonight?"

In a way I feel like I'm making too much of a big deal out of this one thing, but I'm not the one bringing attention to it - Gosho is. Gosho's the one who reminds us that kids get into trouble for their natural brown hair, and Saguru got that too.

Those who've read Magic Kaito will know that he DOES have a Japanese school uniform - but as we saw at the start of the post, when he arrived, he arrived from his school in London.

This further emphasises how he's set apart from the others.

(An aside: it's entirely possible that his "school abroad" is more likely him going to sixth form, since our Secondary schools last (or did for me) up to the age of 16, and depending on the time of year he may have transferred over to the new school year already. Or he's just finishing his last year of Secondary. We don't know.)

Honestly... I'm going to leave this at that for now, because for one thing the post got away from me a bit, and became longer than I expected, and for another thing, I've covered the majority of the first meeting and both of them getting off on the wrong foot.

In short:

Hattori arrived with an idea of slipping Shinichi into the event, and was offended and upset when someone was already in his place. He, being the loyal friend he is, wasn't willing to simply let it lie.

Instead of backing down and accepting the situation and make friends with the new detective - who Shinichi knew and was acting friendly with, and who was willing to befriend him - he let his bad mood get the better of him and made offensive remarks of his own, most of which to the others would seem entirely unwarranted.

Because of that, Hattori still has a bad opinion of Saguru, and Saguru's opinion of Hattori has gone from "my father's spoken of you [positively]" to "rude asshole."

Neither of them are innocent, but when you look at them individually and fairly, neither of them are the only one in the wrong, either.

Like... no wonder they don't get along from here on? Wow.

I did not expect there to be so much in it, but there we go.

[autumngracy]

What are some things you guys collect?

I'll go first

Antique display plates ft. nature, such as Royal Copenhagen Christmas plates

Pokemon cards (and some figures/plushies)

Kutani style cobalt blue porcelain pieces

Books (usually fiction and graphic novels), especially hardcover editions

Antiquated drinkware (we're talking fancy steins, drinking horns, blue salt glaze/cobalt blue German stoneware, patterned porcelain tea cups/mugs, etc.)

Pusheen stuff

Vintage colored glassware (a particular favorite of mine is a pink chicken basket)

Handmade ceramic pieces with cool designs or glaze patterns

Napier seasonal/holiday brooches

Various other antiques, as the fancy strikes me (one example is a beautiful little silver Japanese salt and pepper set of a floral branch with two removable songbirds)

Swords/daggers/knives, etc

Some Sanrio stuff (mostly Cinnamoroll)

Viking, Celtic, Saxon, American Frontier, Maritime/Age of Sail, early-mid medieval European, and late 1700's-early 1900's period related items. Idk lol there's. a lot

Chopstick sets and decorative noodle/rice bowls

[friendo]

Have you or a loved one been plagued by horny visions of Anton Chigurh from the hit 2007 Coen Brothers film No Country For Old Men based on the novel by Cormac McCarthy???

Well buckle up for ANTON FRIDAYS, where I’ll be posting 1 to 3 reader x Anton fics every Friday for the rest of the year!

(There will be 31 fics in total! I can’t keep up with kinktober because work is insane for me this time of year and I have not had a proper rest in 2 months, so I decided to do my own thing!)

Each fic will either include a gender-neutral reader (i.e. reader can be read as any gender, no pronouns or specific genitalia descriptors are used), or will include 2 chapters both with gender neutral pronouns, with one geared towards an AFAB reader and one for an AMAB reader.

Each month will have a bit of a theme, as well!

For October, I decided to mash my love of horror movies and NCFOM together to do a lot of horror-adjacent fics, so gear up for some AUs featuring slasher Anton, vampire Anton, phone stalker Anton, and more, as well as general macabre-themed fics.

For November, the leaves are changing so we’re doing some switching – this month’s fics will have Anton taking on a more submissive position!

And for December, is it getting a bit cold in here? Or is it just Anton being Anton? This month will be focused on...well, Anton being a bit mean, for lack of a better word.

(NOTE: Titles and release order are subject to change!)

Here's the prompt list below the cut! I'll be updating the list with links as I post them to my AO3.

OCTOBER

5th: Blood Oath

Featuring: Vampire Anton, bloodplay, biting (of course)

11th: Trapped Under Moonlight

Featuring: Werewolf Anton, knotting, scratching scratching biting biting more scratching clawing etc etc

18th: The Reverend of Second Chances

Featuring: Reverend Anton, cheirophilia, religious undertones

Inspired by The Night of the Hunter (1955)

18th: It’s For You

Featuring: Phone stalking, breaking & entering, voyeurism

Inspired by Black Christmas (1974)

25th: A Haunting in Texas

Featuring: Ghost Anton, poltergeist shenanigans, wet dreams

25th: Beyond The Pale

Featuring: Necrophilia, questionable Anton behavior, disgust and desire are one and the same

25th: Moving in Shadows

Featuring: Nyctophobia, hate sex in the dark, predator/prey

31st: Your Pound of Flesh

Featuring: Cannibal reader, willing victim Anton, love hurts

Inspired by Raw (2016)

31st: On a Short Leash

Featuring: Petplay, collaring, vibrators

31st: The Thrill of the Hunt(ed)

Featuring: Slasher Anton, gore, predator/play dynamics

(Despite the 31st being on a Thursday, I couldn’t not post on Halloween!)

NOVEMBER

8th: To Ruin You

Featuring: Omorashi, watersports, bathroom denial

A loose sequel to my fic Self-Control

8th: Pretty Pleas

Featuring: Begging, orgasm denial, oral sex

8th: A Lesson in Self-Restraint

Featuring: Strip teasing, demanding, a tied-up Anton

15th: Three’s a Crowd

Featuring: Anton x Carson x reader threesome, bisexual antics, somebody’s getting spitroasted

15th: Sweet Release

Featuring: Lactation, nipple play

15th: Fingertips

Featuring: Tickling, dubcon

22nd: The Taste of You

Featuring: Lots of sweat, stuck in the heat, car sex, body worship

22nd: Your Special Project

Featuring: Emetophilia, medical play

Will eventually be made into a series

29th: A Job Well Done

Featuring: Sex toys, praise

29th: Chlorine and Salt

Featuring: Public sex, poolside, edging

DECEMBER

Featuring: Temperature play, shower sex, mutual masturbation

6th: Ice Water

6th: Firebug

Featuring: Fireplay, branding, arson

6th: Iron and Grease

Featuring: Boot licking, teeth pulling, face stepping

A loose sequel to my fic Lick the Boot That Kicks You

13th: Words Like Knives and Razor Wire

Featuring: Name-calling, humiliation, spitting

13th: Quiet in the Alley

Featuring: Public sex, against a wall, under pressure

13th: Backseat Blues (AKA The Gas Station Dick Pills Incident of 1983)

Featuring: Forced erection, insatiable urges, car sex

20th: Don’t Hesitate

Featuring: Consensual noncon, roleplay, Anton wants to try something new

20th: Performance Review

Featuring: Office setting, after-hours trysts, Anton in that suit at the end of the book

Inspired by Secretary (2002)

20th: Justified Rage

Featuring: Enemies, hate sex, violent sex, dubious consent

27th: Tears Are Not Enough

Featuring: Dacryphilia, high reader, manipulation, kind of a funny one tbh

27th: Tame You

Featuring: Massages, back scratching, happy ending (literally)

[jackietaylorsversion]

Soulmates.

I was in a discord server earlier, and we got to talking about the Yellowjackets as soulmates, and I thought I'd share those thoughts here, just a nice little put together catalogue of all those thoughts put together. I might add to this, too, as more pairings and relationships come to me.

For the record, I want to point out that I think that all of these characters are soulmates, far beyond ship dynamics, far beyond romance. What makes up the insides of one makes up the insides of the others because they are all the same: teenage girls trapped in either growing or decaying bodies. Their souls are all mated to the others in some way or another.

Tai and Van are a pair. Two separate souls that are a part of a matched set, like socks. They can be worn mismatched, certainly, but they really are at their best together. Tai gives Van a purpose. Van calms Tai's "demons." They can exist without each other, live without each other, love without each other, but they just are at their best together.

Lottie and Nat are that sort of star-crossed soulmates, doomed soulmates. There's a red string of fate but its severed somewhere in the middle. They can be good for each other, laugh and smile and hold each other close. They can be the worst of each other, holding knives to each other's throats, laughing in the face of it. They're the epitome of a missed chance. What kind of missed chance? That's up for you to decide.

Misty and Nat are the kind of soulmates that don't seem like they'd match, but they work so good together. The believer and the skeptic (though who is who changes with the circumstance, the belief, the skepticism). Orange and blue. Salt and sweet. Chaotic good and lawful evil. They're diametrically opposed but in a way that makes sense, in a way that works together. They each feed off of what makes the other their opposite. One is running, the other is chasing. Of course one would die at the hand of the other.

Lottie and Laura Lee are the kind of soulmates where each thinks they are the worshipper while the other is the god. A prophet, a believer, a worship under the sun. Souls that just burn brighter around each other (and that pun was unintentional the first time but very intentional with the emphasis). Both want to help the other. Both want to hold the other. They are belief without boundaries personified. Each is Icarus. Each is the sun.

Tai and Shauna are soulmates in a way that recognizes "That is my person." Two people that have so much in common, who understand each other, who both recognize the want in the other. They have an understanding and a care for each other that's fierce. I see you, you see me, ad it might not be pretty, but we will be honest with each other. Especially as the two of them have aged; time has not erased their understanding of one another.

Jackie and Nat are soulmates in a way that isn't explored a lot in the show but has been discussed, from what I've seen, really well. Foils. Two sides of the same coin. Opposites. Rich girl, poor girl. Prude, slut. There are certain stereotypes around both of them that, from a glance, seem to play out. One only needs to look deeper to really see it. Unfortunately, from the show, we never really see the two of them see past their expectations of each other.

Jackie and Shauna. Two heads, one heart. I don't know where you end and I begin and all that. We've been there, we've done that. We know it by heart. They're not a pair because a pair implies separation, and there is none. You can cut out your heart, and you can even replace it, but it's never the same. They're two shattered halves of the same fucked up whole. When one piece is gone, the hole cannot be filled properly ever again. There are some species of worms that, when worm cut in half, can keep living as two separate entities. That does not negate the fact that it was once one whole creature. They're unhealthy together. They're unnatural apart. One did not live long enough to remedy either of these facts.

(If Jackie's heart was still beating, I know it would beat in time with Shauna's. I hope Shauna ate it to feel it beat with hers one last time.)

[givemea-dam-break]

heart's fury - prologue

book one: hope "prologue"

in which a story begins.

pairing: zuko x (fem) reader

a/n: hey guys! first part of my big zuko x reader, which was originally post on ao3 here! this is a brain baby created by my return to the atla fandom (first time properly being in the fandom since i first watched this as a child rip) and a need to write something for it which woooo! big moment since i had been in the biggest writing slump i've ever had before i wrote this. i hope you all enjoy the first part, and the following chapters, because i have so enjoyed writing this and continue to enjoy it! love u all <3

warnings: none

words: 838 heart's fury masterlist

There was something so idyllic about the southern seas in the early morning. The way the sun’s fiery light reflected atop the soft blue waves; the smell of salt and cold air mixing together; the distinctly freezing southern air that, somehow, could not permeate (y/n)’s thick jacket. She felt strangely warm standing at the bow of the ship, staring at the towering icebergs that the ship easily slipped between. She wondered how anything could become so large, so imposing, but she supposed it was part of the southern charm. The last she had heard, the Southern Water Tribe had dwindled in numbers. Fire Nation soldiers imprisoned their waterbenders decades ago and, though they were accustomed to the cold, not every child could survive in such extreme conditions. No outsiders, including the Fire Nation, had set foot in Southern Water Tribe territory in years. (y/n) could only imagine how sparse their population was. But they were persistent, these Southerners, like the icebergs. They had not let the Fire Nation get the best of them. 

“What are you doing out at this time?” a voice asked from behind. “It is far too cold and early.”

“Catching some peace,” she said simply. “My gut is telling me that today is going to be different.”

A hand came to rest on the railing beside her, old and weathered and gentle, but still admirably strong. Connected to the hand was, well, perhaps the only Fire Nation nobility she had been able to tolerate in years. 

General Iroh, now retired, had a kind face and a soft smile that she was sure would alone keep her warm if she had not been wearing her jacket. The crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes, the wrinkles in his forehead, and the deepness of his smile lines did not age him but, rather, did the opposite. He reminded her of a mischievous - yet remarkably wise - child; one that could not be trusted alone with a basket of sweet treats. He shivered in his red robes, but he kept a firm grip on the icy metal railing.

“And why do you say that?”

(y/n) turned her gaze back on the icy path ahead of them. She had always trusted her intuition, knowing that it was a better weapon than her knives or even her bending, but she often couldn’t explain the reasons why she felt things. Maybe it stemmed from her childhood, some sixth sense she had developed by guessing what her mother would make for breakfast or which way her father would take her on his ostrich-horse to get to the Royal Palace in the mornings. Perhaps it was some semblance of a spiritual connection - one of Iroh’s stories that had taken root and given her a strong mind.

She wasn’t sure what her answer to his question should be.

“Just a feeling,” she said. She always said.

It seemed to be enough to appease Iroh. “We are nearing the south pole. I fear that my nephew will be let down once more.”

It was a justified concern. The reason they both stood on this ship, thousands of miles away from home, was a fruitless hunt, bred from punishment, shame, and a terrible lust for honour and, ever a self-centred royal, Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation was determined to get what he wanted.

The Avatar.

Two and a half years the three, and a handful of Fire Nation soldiers, had been hunting the living legend down. It was a futile search - Fire Lord Ozai was aware of this when he had banished his son - but Prince Zuko was adamant. He had ordered them around the world in search of a man who had not been seen in a hundred years, and thrown a princely fit every time they did not find him. 

Iroh was right to worry. Prince Zuko’s sole ambition was to find the Avatar and restore his honour, taking back his rightful place as heir to the title of Fire Lord, but it made one wonder what would happen if he were to accept that the Avatar was unreachable.

Not that he would ever accept it.

“This isn’t the right path for him,” Iroh murmured. Despite there being nobody else on deck, he kept his voice low, leaning closer. “Capturing the Avatar is not the correct decision.”

He cast her a meaningful look, something in the wise, dark eyes sparkling as he turned and walked away, likely to make himself a cup of tea.

(y/n) breathed a sigh, watching the misty breath hover in front of her before dissipating. This was not the first time Iroh had hinted at the secret she kept close to her chest, clutched in iron fingers. If anyone else were to know, she would likely be dead by now. But Iroh shared her cause.

If they ever found the Avatar, wherever they were, she would fight tooth and nail to ensure Prince Zuko could never take them back to the Fire Nation.

<-masterlist chapter one ->

[lanaevyssmoved]

OC + Random Associations

tagged by @cetra , @sleepsvessel & @bootheminiaturegiantspacehamster thank you ^_^

Animal

Afhiri sea slugs, isopods (dairy cow and zebra), geckos and other various reptiles, cats, small birds, musteloids (particularly raccoons and red pandas), viverrids, japanese raccoon dogs, opossums Candor lions, various eagles (wedge-tailed, golden, crowned), hawks, swans and geese, bighorn rams, crocodillians, sea turtles, elephants, animals that use sun compass orientation Cirok corvids (raven, crow), dogs (rottweiler, doberman, pinscher, greyhound), venomous black snakes, scorpions, spiders (particularly trapdoor spiders and sicarius), bats, black caiman, sharks

Colors

Afhiri pastels! pink, yellow, orange, green, blue, white, black Candor changes depending on form but in general purple, blue, red, yellow, orange, gold, brown, white, black Cirok black, grey, white - absolutely no Colour (thanks to booboo i now think of like toxic waste green when i think of cirok too)

Month

Afhiri September Candor August Cirok November

Songs

Afhiri tapi tapi - tempura kidz fear. moe shop and fun - sir sly. sir sly's vibe is way off for afhiri but the lyrics were written for her Candor a sun coloured shaker - yndi halda and (spring) this was your place - sunlight ascending Cirok jouska - evenS (probably favourite song of all time btw) and i come with knives - IAMX

Number

Afhiri two/2 Candor three/3 Cirok four/4

Plants

Afhiri celandine, sunflower, pink tulip, daisy Candor bay tree, gladiolus, heliotrope, rose Cirok chives, anemone, begonia, deadly nightshade

Scents

Afhiri fresh morning, grass, dirt, cotton candy, bubblegum Candor cedar, musk, sandalwood, the ocean, burning  Cirok decay, death, rot, overwhelmingly of resin

Gemstone

Afhiri tugtupite Candor meliphanite Cirok magnetite

Time of day

Afhiri sunrise Candor midday Cirok night

Season

Afhiri summer Candor summer Cirok winter

Places

Afhiri taverns, meadows, by rivers and lakes Candor monasteries, temples, places of worship Cirok the dank, cold and forgotten, the forbidden

Food

Afhiri sweet things, nothing good for you Candor warm meals Cirok raw meat

Drinks

Afhiri sugary sweet drinks, energy drinks Candor various teas (green, oolong, herbal, black) Cirok piping hot black coffee

Element

Afhiri air Candor fire Cirok water

Seasonings

Afhiri garlic, ginger, cinnamon Candor paprika, turmeric, bay leaves Cirok dried chives, cloves, saffron

Sky

Afhiri the most beautiful sunny cloudless summer sky Candor a colourful golden orange, red, and purple with light cloud cover Cirok stratus clouds, grey, calm and quiet

Weather

Afhiri warm day with lots of sun and a gentle breeze Candor blazing hot summers day with minimal to no wind Cirok cold winters day with fog and light snow

Magical power

Afhiri manipulative magic that makes someone act against their own will, anything that makes them laugh or dance. also the magical power of Insults Candor holy smites, blinding lights and divine energy Cirok phasing into the realm of the dead to walk partly as a ghost

Weapons

Afhiri shortsword and dagger combo, dual hand crossbows Candor mace and shield, longbow, floating/flying greatsword Cirok dual daggers, throwing knives, poisons and venoms

Candy/Sweets

Afhiri cotton candy, bubblegum, and i designed her with fruit salad in mind! Candor spicy roasted pecans, maple roasted sweet potatoes, sea salt dark chocolate Cirok liquorice, black jack, toxic waste

Method of long distance travel

Afhiri roadtrip in a classic volkswagen camper van Candor flying Cirok underground trains

Artstyle

Afhiri impressionism, abstract expressionism, street art, dadaism, CoBrA and fauvism Candor baroque and classicism Cirok optical art and minimalism

Fear

Afhiri of the self, of emotional pain, of returning home Candor of imperfection, of failure, of not being worthy Cirok of being seen, of death, of vulnerability

Mythological creature

Afhiri azeban, mujina, nymph Candor chalkydri, phoenix, psychopomp Cirok tsuchigumo, black dog, gargoyle

Piece of stationery

Afhiri a childs box of crayons, dairy Candor fountain pen, ruler Cirok ink, letter opener

Three Emojis

Afhiri 🤡🍀🪈 Candor ☄️🎇🪽 Cirok 🕷️♟️🔪

Celestial body

Afhiri the moon Candor the sun Cirok black dwarf

THIS TOOK ME FOREVER GUYS... TWO DAYS. I WORKED ON IT FOR HOURS. i hope........ its worth it <3

tagging @cetra @dekariosgale @courierseis @euryalex @hibernationsuit @jerichoes @vanoefucks @captaintiny @gwynbleidd @arduath @rcpunzel @avallachs @fuckitwebhaal @hexdruid @sovereign-spaw @galesgrandad @thefathersbride @dandeyrain @doggybone @swanfey @voerman @full---ofstarlight @chaos-storm @covenscribe @raphaelsboudoir @simtalics @kymal @graynstairs @neonbutchery @hungryblackbird @moxley @thlix @isayashai @darlinghowl @astarionsfordf150 @moon-jun @lovaboy @ratscrap @picklepals @crazy-lazy-elder-sims @rigaudon @neosunbrella @sternenstaub28 @centipisde @kirkwall @lusus--naturae

[magnetic-regent-magneto]

𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄     𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂  ,     𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐑     𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍!

bold  whatever  applies  ,  italicize  what  sometimes  applies.

𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐜  𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫.       /       gaslights.  corsets.  ballrooms.  candlelight.  mist.  starless  nights.  full  moons.  cobbled  streets.  horse-drawn  carriages.  mysterious  strangers.  bogs.  moors.  forests.  mountains.  castles.  velvet.  silver.  brass.  gold.  jewels.  domino  masks.  the  opera.  dangerous  romances.  tragic  romances.  violins.  roses.  lilies.  empty  graves.  crosses.  cemeteries.  snow.  ice.  the  gallows.  crows.  milk-white  skin.  ambiguous  illness.  fangs.  pointed  nails.  something  howling  in  the  night.  capes.  gloves.  top  hats.  straight  razors.  lightning.  pipe  organs.  underground  caverns.  bats.  mice.  rats.  ravens.  cats.  pearls.  attics.  talismans.  axes.  wood.  isolation  in  a  room  full  of  people.  vampires.  werewolves.  ghosts.  coffins.  southern  europe.  western  europe.  eastern  europe.  bones.  churches.  catacombs.  mausoleums.  books.

𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐜  𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫.        /       black  and  white.  powder  puffs.  red  lipstick.  winged  eyeliner.  white  kitten  heels.  black  lace  lingerie.  icy  blue  eyes.  rain.  abandoned  cars.  skeletons.  acid.  poison.  voyeurism.  switchblades.  strangling.  overcoats.  looking  over  your  shoulder.  trans-atlantic  accents.  private  detectives.  dinner  parties.  haunted  mansions.  alcohol  in  glass  decanters.  cobwebs.  perfect  blonde  curls.  kitchen  knives.  shock.  cellars.  dust.  ghosts.  dark  alleys.  empty  streets.  driving  at  night.  horn-rimmed  glasses.  radiation.  zombies.  serial  murder.  suspicion.  paranoia.  the  city.  witches.  the  devil.  cannibalism.  conspiracies. amulets.  abject  terror.  the  american  south.  the  american  northeast.  england.  analog  cameras.

𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬.       /       bloodbaths.  massacres.  wanton  nudity.  newspapers.  leather  jackets.  letterman  jackets.  converse  sneakers.  obscured  faces.  social  unrest.  bonfires.  lakes.  babysitters.  suburbia.  high  school.  lockers.  dead  leaves  in  the  fall.  jack-o’-lanterns.  outdated  television  sets.  nightmares.  psychiatrists.  hospitals.  unstoppable  forces.  gunfire.  police.  landline  telephones.  household  objects  turned  into  improvised  weapons.  halloween.  secrets.  revelations.  character  masks.  scrunchies.  queerness.  wild  curls.  jeering  children.  parties.  fire.  swearing.  revulsion.  california.  the  american  midwest.  ambulances.

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐥  𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫.       /         malevolent  spirits.  seances.  spells.  missing  bodies.  curses.  hidden  graves.  white  noise.  static.  flickering  lights.  rings  of  salt.  demons.  poltergeists.  dark  histories.  old  buildings.  cold  air.  mausoleums.  wells.  urban  exploration.  a  dog  barking  at  something  you  can’t  see.  black  ooze.  old  photographs.  faces  you  can  swear  you’ve  seen  before  but  can’t  for  the  life  of  you  figure  out  where.  dark  bodies  of  water.  crucifixes.  priests.  possession.  exorcisms.  dolls.

𝐜𝐫𝐲𝐩𝐭𝐢𝐝  &  𝐮𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐧  𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐝  𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫.       /       aliens.  blinding  light.  dark  woods.  driving  at  night. claw-marks.  bite-marks.  men  in  black.  memory  loss.  dismembered  bodies.  sewers.  flashlights.  cell  phones.  video  cameras.  cars  with  tinted  windows.  unlabelled  cassette  tapes.  bugs.  big  cities.  urban  crimes.  clowns.  something  rustling  outside  your  window.  glowing  light.  unsolved  mysteries.  suburbia.  mirrors.  the  american  pacific  northwest.  the  american  midwest.  hiking  /  backpacking.  

𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐬.        /        daylight.  fluorescent  lighting.  morgues.  asylums.  unwavering  eye  contact.  tension.  lit  rooms  with  no  one  inside  them.  a  dog  digging  in  the  newly-planted  flower  bed.  steely  gazes.  paperwork.  anagrams.  codes.  convicted  killers.  missing  persons.  law  enforcement.  federal  agents.  small  towns.  suspicion.  paranoia.  subdued  terror.  dimly-lit  parking  lots.

tagged by: @roquish <3

tagging: @witchkillr, @hexsreality, @onlyarogue, @alwaysxinxtrouble, @abovedivinity, @belayadeaths and anyone else that wants!! steal it!