#but also she might’ve forgotten their actual name

[ranger-danger]

I do love the concept of Evka and Antoine lightly bringing up Warden Thorne to Davrin, only for Davrin to be informed later that Warden Rook is Warden Thorne.

And it wouldn’t be a huge stretch to imagine Davrin hearing about Thorne around Weisshaupt either. Rook does mention getting thrown into Weisshaupt’s cells a few times*, as well as (though more of a stretch and inference) the first warden probably having more than the town hall incident to have a deep annoyance towards Rook, like he seems to have towards Antoine and Evka.

Your boss just so happens to also be that guy people kept murmuring about once every few months. Hottest person you’ve ever laid eyes on, also maybe sorta kinda is that guy who dropped a town hall on a huge hoard of darkspawn and would’ve got into a ton of trouble for it, if they hadn’t gone on a little trip right away.

“Oh you’re that warden Thorne” “what does that mean?/ you’ve heard of me!”

*I think you can interpret that line however you want, but the conversation was Davrin mentioning how it mainly held drunk wardens. So it might be implying that Rook got drunk and got thrown into the dungeon for it. I don’t have examples of the lines rn so I can’t actually clearly say whether or not it’s meant to be implying that or anything else. I just know Rook got in trouble lightly enough to get thrown into Weisshaupt’s cells a few times.

[pinkyyoshi]

Saving all my love for you♡︎(CHAPTER ONE)

simon “Ghost“ Riley x Reader

18+!ANGST

Syn: Reader grew up as a hopeless romantic, always seeing the brighter side of things and always getting her heart broken. She finds herself falling in love with a man who happens to already be taken and ends up in a fucked up situation.

CW: Self-harm, manipulation, arguing, ANGST ANGST ANGST, profanity, cheating, mommy-issues, drug-use, SA(NOT BY GHOST!)

A/N: Thank you for tapping in. Welcome to the first offical chapter to my first ff! I appreciate all criticism, I actually encourage it so lmk guys!! If you haven’t read the prologue, you might wanna do that for better context also forgot to mention that readers’ alias is “Sage“ but nonetheless enjoy the very first chapter and I'm gonna try and update as fast as I can everyday!! Here we goミ★

---------

“So it’s not much of a secret. You two are deffo fucking.” Gaz wiggles his eyebrow, elbowing her side and Soap puts a hand over his mouth to hide the cheeky smile plastered on his face. You weren’t in the room yet, just right outside, and you can hear how sweet the sound of her laugh is. The sound of her nervous voice and her giggles. Oh so she hangs out with the task force now? Should stay in her lane, you think to yourself before pinching the bridge of your nose and sighing.

“What am I thinking? I have no reason to be jealous. God I’m such a loser…” You mumble to yourself, earning a pat on your back from your captain who was just entering the room himself.

“Mornin’ sergeant, let’s go”

As the two of you enter the room, you can feel the stares from Gaz, Soap, and Chel on you. Oh that’s right, her name is Chel. It must’ve slipped your mind, but I guess seeing her face made you remember. Hard to forget really…

Knock it off Sage! She’s innocent!

God my palms are sweaty. Just sit down, you see these guys everyday so why is your stomach churning? Must be the morning sickness…wait morning sickness?! You’re on the pill dumbass. Maybe this is morning Guilt...Or maybe-

“Mornin’ Sage!” Soap and Gaz peers at you while Chel just gives you a shy smile before getting up from her seat. And dismissing herself

“Looks like you guys are getting started. Better get back to my patient, she’s probably waking up by now!” She giggles, covering her mouth. She does it so gracefully, like a mermaid or some shit. Almost sickens you, it’s annoying…no it’s not. I’m just being a green-eyed cat.

The men all wave her off as she walks out of the room. You sigh, and lean on the table with your cheek in the palm of your hand. Facing Simon is gonna be so painful today. Well it’s really painful everyday, you think to yourself with another sigh. It has been ever since we started whatever we have. I remember the first night we got together…

—---

The sounds of wet kisses and ruffled up fabric, whether it was your guys’ clothes or the sheets, are the only things to be heard in the room. He unbuckles his pants without his rough lips leaving your smooth ones.

You place a hand in his chest, in an attempt to reluctantly push him away. It was highly unprofessional for the two of you to be doing this anyways. “Sir…we shouldn't, we could get in big trouble if anyone saw us like this.” You blush trying to hide the obvious tint in your cheeks

“Well then love…it’s a good thing we’re at my place, in my dark locked room, curtains closed, just the two of us away from base…alone” He whispers the last part, closely in your ears nibbling on your earlobe, earning a giggle out of you.

‘Okay’ is all that you mouth, and immediately go back in.

—----

You remember it like it was yesterday, though it was…almost a year ago. It was actually around the time that Chel started at this base. On that mission… December 14th. Simon taking a bullet for you might’ve been the worst decision he ever made. Because that single bullet landed him in the hospital where he had met Chel and forgotten all about you, made you sick to your stomach.

You let out a sigh, and slouch back into your chair, earning devious looks from the other men in the room around watching you.

“Ey! What’s got you all down in the dumps?” soap, making his way over to sit next to you asks in a curious tone. He leans back in his chair, placing a hand on your thigh. You just can’t help but let out another sigh, blowing raspberries while you’re at it. Just then, Simon walks in ready for the meeting to start,on time like always, but you’re too down in the dumps to notice him.

“Lemme guess. Trouble in Paradise yeh?” Gaz snorts, taking a sip of his overly sweet coffee.

“Yer boyfriend not treating you right?” Soap wriggles his eyebrows

“Woah-ho-ho! Boyfriend?! Since when?” Gaz exclaims. Not sure why he’s so surprised. I mean it’s not like I can tell him that Simon is really my boyfriend. Wait- can I even call him that? This is some evil shit I’m in. Poor Chel. I’m such a piece of shit, seriously. But I guess-

“Eyyyy! LT’! You just sneak in here? We were just talking abou’ Sage’s boyfriend!” Soap blurts out. Is he serious? This shit is SO awkward! When did Simon even get in here! Must’ve been too delirious to notice.

You shuffle your feet under the table, looking down to your lap seeing that Johnny’s hand still grips your thigh.

“The Bloke’s been mistreating our girl. Rough” Gaz snorts, patting your back, accidentally spilling a drop on Johnny’ shoulder while he’s at it

“Tha' Right?” Simon subtly squints his eyes at Johnny's hand on your thigh. You’re too annoyed to notice. At this point you’re so fed up. When is the briefing gonna start? Is it hot in here or am I the only one because everyone else seems to be alright. Get out of your head Sage! Out!

You start to feel your palms sweat. Is this really morning guilt!? Too in your head to realize that the meeting has started. You knew it was gonna be a long day.

Nonetheless, the meeting goes by smoothly, just going over the agenda and then getting on to do your own things. Luckily, you had business with Price all the way across base, so you were basically away from Simon all day, which left you to focus on more important things, and before you knew it, the day was over.

—--

The drive home was quiet and gloomy, the white noise was deafening honestly and the fog that surrounded your car made it hard to see. It was that time of the year, it was getting colder and darker. Nights like these were when you really wanted someone to hold. Didn’t even feel like turning on the radio, didn’t even feel like crying. Just thinking to yourself. Thinking that maybe a quick pit stop wouldn’t hurt and surely Katy wouldn’t mind any guests.

By the way, Katy’s my best friend, she’s a fashion designer for a local record label so she’s always in that scene. Hanging around those cool small bands and stuff.

You ran to the liquor store real quick, just a couple of blocks away from Katy’s house, and just as you were walking up to the counter, you saw her.

She seemed to have been purchasing condoms or something, the thought made you sad. You already know who those are for. She bags up her items and turns around on her heel to exit until she sees you with a gloomy look on your face.

She gasps “Oh! Sage..? That’s your name right? Didn’t think I’d bump into you here. WHat are you doing? It’s so late out” she chuckles and smiles at you brightly.

God you felt sick. If only she knew the stuff that you did behind her back, she’d hate you. Her smile is just so pure and unknowing. The type of smile that makes you wanna stop sneaking around.

“Hehe…yeah it’s Sage. Just uhm…getting some drinks. Getting ready to head over to my friend y’know” You laugh nervously, placing the pack of beer on the counter.

She smiles and pats your shoulder. “Well be careful with all of that. I’ll be seeing you around. Bye bye!” She exclaims and walks off to her car.

The drive over to Katy’s house had your ears ringing. That might’ve been a wake up call. She’s just so nice and friendly. If you weren’t so guilty, the two of you could’ve actually been good friends. Alright then it’s decided.

—------

“Sooo...Your ultimate plan is to just ignore him..?” Katy squints her eyes at you all concerned.

“Yeah! I mean it should be easy. I’ll use Chel as motivation, maybe I can even become friends with her!”

Katy sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose like this bitch can’t be serious. Ever since you told Katy about your little fling, she’s been viewing you differently. Of course she’ll always love you but she acknowledges that what you’re doing is just morally wrong. So wrong. She just sighs and looks at you with a defeated look.

“Welp. If that’s what you think. Love always wins though. Because I mean...you can’t just ignore him forever. You work with the man. He’s your higher up for fucks sake!” she pauses and shakes her head “If you don’t formally break things off with him, things aren’t gonna end up like how you want them to.” Katy bites her inner cheek, before getting up to get a glass of water and you’re left, sat there on the carpeted floor of her living room, letting her words replay over and over again in your head.

They rung in your ears for hours and hours, even after you got home, laid awake in your comforter. The dark room brings negativity to your thoughts and before you knew it, you were crying hard, just bawling your eyes out. You didn’t know what to do, you felt like you were stuck, but you love him so much, it’s gonna be so hard to let him go.

Katy also said something that kind of made you feel better, “You know, It’s his fault too. At the end of the day, He’s the border between the two of you women. He’s leading both of you on and that’s not okay.”

She was right of course, but you have to take at least some accountability. All of this shit was just stressing you out. Suddenly your phone lights up on your nightstand, lighting up the entire room.

Lt.: Hey it’s Simon, can you talk right now?

To be continued...

THANK YOU FOR READING!!! Criticism is appreciated!!

(masterlist is coming soon!!)

[base0h]

Hello,

Heard you’re looking for ideas so…

Here’s a crack one: The Straw hats working in a department store

Would they become employee of the month? Would they be fired immediately?

a/n - IM WHEEZING AT THIS— you are GENIUS bro holy crap 😭🫶 dude luffy would get fired so fast it’s insane— and imma just add everyone bc why not 😂

Warnings ⚠️ - MAJOR crack, multiple characters, I’m kinda dumb and might’ve forgotten people

they didn’t even make it past the interview 💀

.✩ kidd (tried killing the interviewer for asking him why he wanted to work there “I really am passionate about restocking— MF IM BROKE.”), buggy, bonney, paulie (did the same thing as kidd plus he parked in the manager’s parking spot)

literally within the first few seconds of the interview they’re hired | “My name is—“ “Can you start within the next few seconds?”

.✩ jimbei, koby, sabo, koala, izou, kaku, vivi

got fired the same day they started

.✩ luffy (ate the entire produce section and then asked the manager “is there more stuff in the back?”), corazon (he accidentally burnt the place down 😀), sanji (confessed his love and asked several female customers to marry him at his cash register), brook (asked for some poor random woman’s underwear 💀)

employee of the month every single month

.✩ jimbei, koby (old people always say how sweet he is to the manager bc he always helps them get the things they can’t reach 😭🫶), tashigi (kids hate her bc she catches them and scolds them if they take an extra candy/sticker from the cashier jar), vivi (accidentally gave herself this title when she’s the manager 💀)

the manager of the store

.✩ nami (steals money from the safe sometimes), aokiji (he literally never shows up to work on time and doesn’t give a shit what the employees do), akainu, fujitora, shanks (bro also does not care and comes to work hungover), dragon (has not shown up once since the interview), sengoku, garp, dadan, vivi, magellan

the sale sign flipper guy

.✩ zoro (if he manages to actually find his way to the store), bepo, ace, shachi, penguin, queen (you legit can’t miss him as you’re driving by 💀), yamato, oden, cat viper, bon clay, ivankov

they work solely in the back to avoid human interaction as much as possible

.✩ mihawk, law, smoker (he’s the guy that mans the big crane machine that moves huge boxes), hawkins, king, katakuri, smoker, lucci

they’re the CEOs of companies that are partners with the store and provide goods for the store to sell

.✩ crocodile (provides gut/immune supporting, healthy, all organic animal/pet food), doflamingo, kaido, big mom, whitebeard, moria (sells and produces copious amounts of Halloween costumes and other decorations)

actually decent employees

.✩ usopp, benn, x drake, robin, nojiko, baby 5, monet, vergo, franky, icebarg, bellamy (SHADOW FROM SK8 PLS TELL ME YALL SEE IT), hachi, killer

they start tweaking because they asked a customer how they were and they ignored them

.✩ shirahoshi (sobbing), bepo, sanji (asked a girl who had her headphones on), Uta (will get so pressed that they ignored her when in reality they just had headphones on)

they’re the reason why the store’s still in business | they’re basically the mascot

.✩ chopper, bepo, carrot, cat viper, dog storm

the dude everyone goes to for questions/help | “Idk go ask ___”

.✩ franky (has beef with cash register 4 bc it stops working for no reason only during his lunch break and never when he’s not doing anything), icebarg, kaku, usopp, lucci, jack, king, robin, jimbei

they’re the reason why no one likes to shop there | they have several weird allegations or felonies of some sort

.✩ trebol, caesar, diamante, dellinger, pica (he drives this mini car and always somehow fits inside it and takes up two spots in the parking lot), absalom, hogback (people have gone missing in the parking lot it’s scary), moria (would you wanna shop if you saw bro? Ik I wouldn’t 😭)

jobless for life ✌️

.✩ rayleigh (he slays idc), roger, yasopp

a/n - I think i forgot people but eh 💀 the one piece brainrot is so back 🙏

[jojo-schmo]

Beast Pack Babies™️!

Coming soon to PBS Kids!!

-aggressively makes up my own lore for the Beast Pack council because there is so little to go off of in canon-

Here we have a quartet of childhood friends that go on all kinds of adventures in the forgotten land they live in! They're all very different but are still close to one another!

I think when they're young they're still really just animals. No decorative clothing or jewelry or accessories like their adult selves. But as they grow up and continue exploring the forgotten world, they each start developing styles of their own while adopting some of the customs of the lost culture they found. That is how as adults, they founded and took leadership of the Beast Pack to organize and find the Ultimate Life Form’s missing half. But that is years into the future….

Carol and Leon are close in age, but Carol is just a little bit older. Which lets her hit a growth spurt first and enjoy being taller than Leon for a few precious years- at least before Leon doubles in size in his teen years!

Carol is the extroverted troublemaker. She initiates most of their adventures. She’s curious, expressive and daring. A girl of action and excitement! But also can be reckless in her youth.

Leon is quieter, introverted, and careful. But really gets into the adventures and exploring after a bit of encouragement by Carol. Usually the one to come up with the plans to fix things when something goes wrong. This strategist mindset comes in handy throughout his life!

Gori is the youngest. Very very quiet, but has the most sarcastic comebacks of them all. The physically strongest of the group, even as a kid. He doesn’t gain the “Mondo” suffix to his name until he grows up to be the largest and tallest beast of them all.

Sillydillo is a nickname. When asked about this, Silly just responds that it’s parents forgot it’s birth name. Whether that’s actually true has never been proven. But nobody really cares. Silly is just Silly. And Silly does whatever it feels like doing. Including collecting every single mildly interesting artifact it finds and learning how they worked. …including taking things apart and putting them back together in a new and interesting way!

These are just a few of the thoughts I have about what they might’ve been like as children…. I think I may have dropped myself into another rabbit hole of character developing. Heehee.

[phfenomena]

❝call it what you want.❞ || jack champion x reader

request- Jack champion x Reader where jack comes home for a bit and the goes on a road trip w his friends and y/n and jack and reader are best friends but ended up confessing there love on the trip 🙏

a/n: this is cute i actually really like this one please don’t flop

WARNINGS- driving, ocean, and the dark! let me know if i missed any <3

SHE ANXIOUSLY TAPPED her fingers on the steering wheel after finding the correct gate. she felt as if she was going to throw up, after only seeing his face on screens for years, she’d almost forgotten what he actually looked like. what he felt like. she was pulled out of her thoughts from the sound of the passenger door opening and she was met with jacks beaming smile.

“oh my god, you’re like actually here.” she says while opening her own door and trying to dodge the passing cars. she helped him put his luggage in the back of her car and turned to look at him. she grabbed the sides of his face in her hands and smiled so hard she felt as if her cheeks might fall off. “yeah, i’m like actually here.” he whispered and pulled her into a tight hug.

“they’re totally gonna freak when they see you, jack! we also decorated my house and might’ve thrown a welcome home party.” she whispered the last bit as she trailed off and unlocked the door. as the pair of teenagers walked through the hallway and flipped on the lights, all of their friends jumped out from behind furniture and screamed unintelligible words at the boy.

the music was quiet as it mixed with the soft conversations floating through the air, mostly friends asking jack about acting and how cool california is. he’d nod along politely but he wasn’t really listening, not when she was sitting across of him showing a friend something on her phone. she’d changed a lot, but he knew it was only physically. she just looked so much prettier in real life than through his phone screen.

“i vote we watch scream six!” “no, that’s so awkward! jack, what do you want to watch? you’re the guest here.” she whispered as she set her hand on his knee and looked at him with those oh-so-soft eyes he’d grown to miss. “uh, fuck, i have no clue, can we just scroll through until we find something?”

the group had somehow settled on watching the most terrifying movie jack had ever laid his eyes on, the conjuring, she laughed softly and teased the boy every time he covered his eyes or shoved his head into her shoulder. she seemed to be the only person not on the brink of tears. “how are you not scared? this is the scariest fucking thing i’ve ever seen in my life!” their friend asked, cutting through the silence of the room. “i don’t believe in ghosts, man. it’s cool cgi and stuff but it just doesn’t scare me.”

“i know what’ll scare you.” the movie had been paused and the group gathered on the floor. flashlights for each person laid on the ground. “we’re gonna play bodies bodies bodies, and i’m going to make it my mission to scare the shit out of you.”

the names of the killers had been pulled and the countdown had begun. she wandered throughout her dark house and grew uneasy at the feeling of being watched. she heard a creak in the floorboard behind her and whipped around with her flashlight, breathing heavily. “whoever that was, fuck you.” she whispered into the seemingly empty darkness. “i’m sure you’d like to.” a voice whispered behind her and she dropped her flashlight. she turned around and started hitting against jacks chest. “not funny, you asshole!” he laughed off the assault he was receiving and wrapped his arms around her to stop her from moving. “what do you say, we go hide in a closet and wait for a body to be found?” she narrowed her eyes at him and backed up, picking up her flashlight. “why are you trying to get me alone? so you can kill me and leave me all alone in the dark?”

she saw his perfectly white teeth as he leaned closer to her. “i wouldn’t leave you alone, i’d wait with your dead body.” she rolled her eyes and pushed him away. her mouth had opened to hurl insults before she heard the group downstairs yelling.

her childhood friend, jessica, lay motionless on the floor trying to stifle her laughter. “i haven’t seen jack the entire time, i ran into basically everyone but jack and you.” their friend pointed his finger at them, accusingly. “she was with me, i didn’t see her kill anyone.” jack replied in an almost over-confident tone.

the lights had been turned back off and she quickly beelined back up the stairs to hide in a bathroom. she could hear her own heartbeat screaming in her ears as she sat quietly. the door opened and she shuffled further into the tub and covered her mouth. the moonlight only allowing her to see a silhouette standing in front of the shower curtain, and they tilted their head to the right and slowly pulled the curtain back.

her eyes widened as she was met with jacks beaming smile and she relaxed before he squatted down and whispered “gotcha.”. he poked her knee and she was filled with shock and a minuscule amount of amusement. “are you kidding me, jack? you waited this long to kill me?” “you’re dead, you’re not supposed to be talking.”

the cars were filled with quiet and tired teenagers, most of them already back asleep. the only ones awake in the first van was the driver, jack, and her. she’d been staring out the window with her headphones on, watching the trees and streets she’d known for her whole life, pass by. jack had also been reminiscing, but about her. his eyes raked over every inch of her body as he thought about the years he’d missed, and how she’d grown and changed without him.

she turned her head and he quickly looked out his own window, failing miserably at not looking suspicious. he felt a light prod at his shoulder and turned to face her, she looked so gentle under her copious amounts of blankets and snacks littered on the car floor. “what’re you thinking about? you look serious, it’s weird.” his eyes gravitated to his shoes as he muttered out “just how much i’ve missed.” she furrowed her eyebrows and shot him a hopeful smile. “this whole trip is us making up for lost time, plus you were literally living out your dream. don’t feel bad about that.”

the van had parked at the rest stop and the original driver, jessica, announced she was tired of driving and wanted to switch. she lifted her head from jacks shoulder and adjusted to the light, “i can drive, jess.” and she found herself in the drivers seat trying to connect her phone to the bluetooth. she hadn’t even seen jack exit the vehicle until he was sitting comfortably in the passenger seat. she stopped her attempts at her phone and looked up at him. “jus’ thought you could use some company up here.”

the faint words of taylor swift were floating through the car but jacks loud voice was drowning her beautiful lyrics out. “the blood actually tasted really bad, i didn’t like filming those scenes.” she threw her head back laughing and the sun caught her perfectly. “you’re so pretty when you laugh” it was like his brain turned into mush and he forgot how to shut his mouth. “only when i laugh? that’s so mean.” she smiles while keeping her eyes on the road. “no! i mean like, um, you get what i mean, right?”

the vans headlights illuminated the beach house and the once sleepy and moody teenagers were suddenly happier than the elderly at bingo. as the rooms were being called and fought over, she silently slipped into the furthest room of the hallway and jack followed. “can i room with you? brent kicks when he sleeps.” he whispered and she smiled “yeah so do i, i actually do full martial arts routines when i’m sleeping. but you can totally room with me!” she jokes while she sets her bags on the floor and collapsing onto the bed, he always followed her. throughout whatever she did.

he shifted uncomfortably and as quietly as possible to avoid waking her. he honestly feels like he would’ve gotten more sleep rooming with brent, at-least brent isn’t a pretty girl he’s had a crush on for years. the moonlight barley illuminates the room, just enough to see out onto the beach.

the waves crashed so beautifully and naturally across the rocks as he sat on the shore just staring. thinking about how comfortable he was, how hungry he was, and her. always her. and as if god was listening to his prayers, she took a seat next to him. she clutched her cardigan tightly across her chest as they sat in silence.

“it’s weird having you back, you know? i got so used to being without you for years and suddenly you’re right next to me again, like nothing happened. you’re taller now.” she whispers out, it could almost be mistaken for wind cascading over the waves. “you grew too, just in ways you haven’t noticed. like, you don’t cover your mouth when you laugh anymore.” she nods softly and hums. “did you miss me at all?” he barley heard it. “a lot. especially when i had a bad day and you weren’t there to cook me dinner and let me talk about it.”

“i missed you too. nothing was ever the same after you left, and no one ever wanted to try my new recipes like you did.” he looks over at her after fighting the urge the entire time. “when i leave, would you go with me?” the air around them was so warm and inviting, they could’ve fallen asleep there. she nods and opens her mouth to but quickly shuts it while thinking. “can i tell you something?” he mutters a soft agreement and turns fully towards her. “but you have to promise it won’t make things weird between us.” he holds his pinky out and smiles. “i promise.”

“i’ve had like the biggest crush on you since we met.” their eyes bored into each others and she began to regret her confession. “i know. i have too, i’m really obsessed with you to a worrying extent.” her laugh cut through the silence and her head settled on his shoulder.

he felt as if they were the only people in the world, and in some ways they were.

[crguang]

Okay sat, I might’ve forgotten to my anon mark at the end of my last message aand I’ve reread part 4 like 5 times, but still, 

what the fuck, literally was thinking abt it in all my classes. And I will be yapping, as I guessed.

First of all, fuck Kafka really wish I was tbh she is so annoying, like just assuming r isn’t that upset, like they’re just having a little argument when r is grappling w the fact that they fell for a criminal, and literally killed their coworkers and a ton of other people, she is pissing me off. Also the stuff abt Kafka and her nihilism…giving me some thoughts. Btw have himeko and Kafka encountered each other in this, or has Himeko just heard abt her? And shes so nice, calling r everyday and being so understanding…

I can’t imagine what Kafka did when she found out she got blocked. Her going to text u and then realizing she’s blocked…kafka pausing when she sees that r blocked her. Kafka waiting to get unblocked as she orders gifts for u, who keeps checking her phone for messages from u as she sends more gifts, reminiscing abt when your first met in the store, silver wolf and blade noticing how Kafka seems to be waiting for smth, Kafka who decides to text you on an encrypted number to see how you’re doing, Kafka who sees that she isn’t forgiven and orders so many fucking flowers bc she didn’t know ur favorite. Ugh I can imagine her bringing all of them into r’s house, god she’s pathetic, I need to kiss her so bad so she shuts the fuck up.

anyway I may or may not have started writing a Kafka fic 👀 tbh I don’t rlly read romance novels so idk how the typical academic rivals thing usually works, trope wise. For some reason I keep fixating on her fucking nails. Like to me, she has them manicured all fancy, but Im fairly certain shorter not manicured nails are better for fingering. On her violin ofc, obviously. I played cello middle and high school, and I kept them long, bc I liked scratching people don’t ask I was a strange kid, but I feel like she’d keep them short bc she’s rlly serious abt it. Also Kafka is so dislikable, her ego is so big, and she’s always calm, like if she didn’t look like she was trying and still top of the class it’d piss me off too 😭

Also in the wardence event rn, I haven’t played it bc I’ve been sleeping or smth like that, but silver wolf shows up 😭 like ik it makes the most sense, since she has holograms but Kafka showed up as a hologram once ok 😭 but what silver said is like “i heard u we’re joining the wardence, and two whose names I won’t mention insisted I go check on you. Why couldn’t they do it themselves.” Ugh Kafka is so obvious it’s actually gonna kill me. And yes wtf couldn’t Kafka have showed up, she’s worth like 11 billion, so ik she can’t show up all the but cmon. 

-🌠

hehfjfjgjfjfj posting a new chapter and having ppl go “man fuck kafka” is funny as hell because honestly, yeah, fuck her😭 i think it was important for me to portray how her personality can be irritating in certain contexts and how being with her really wouldn’t be bliss all the time cause she doesn’t deal with emotions much, and that includes others’. she’s not totally detached from them which is why she does try but it’s very clumsy. it’ll be elaborated on in the next part but in her mind she really has picked the best outcome here and even if she was acting in her own interest, she was protecting R, she’s just an information hoarder. being on the opposite side means you dont know wtf is going on in her head and cant explain her behavior as anything else but “she doesn’t give a shit about me”. it’s an interesting situation to write that’s for sure but im glad that her efforts, though genuine, make yall feel irritated bc thats the point hehe

what i wrote about kafka’s nihilism was not entirely true, and i did it on purpose because R doesn’t know her. i do think that nihilism/finality creates a certain distance between her and accountability. when you tell yourself that this outcome was always a possibility, that it could have happened anyway, the choice you make is no longer fully yours which means that the consequences aren’t fully on your shoulders as well. i think that makes it easier for the stellaron hunters to do what they do, that and the goal they’re working towards that is supposedly the best outcome for humanity. but kafka is anything but passive. she is not “subjected” to things, she has an active role in her future and the ones of the millions of people that it touches within the constraints of destiny. i think with nihilism it’s easy to fall into a state of learned helplessness, where you suffer through the things happening to you because “nothing matters” and “it was going to happen anyway”, but kafka is not like that at all. “if destiny doesn’t propel me forward, i’ll be the one to push destiny”— this is what she does, so describing her as a drop in the ocean isnt entirely accurate because she’s making waves. R will learn that

himeko and kafka have crossed paths canonically before the trailblazer so it’s the same in this. i like that himeko has an opinion of kafka that has been cemented through their brief meetings over the time. in that one “keeping up with star rail” where kafka’s kit is presented, hime has a lot of shit to say about her 😭 all bad. she’s also aware that kafka plays mind games in it so really for her to hear “kafka manipulated me” was like “fork found in kitchen” there’s no surprise there. one of my favorite qualities in hime is her understanding and ability to understand multiple perspectives at once, it develops her already deep empathy and its just very admirable. shes a very soft character, i love her

AND YESSSSS SHE DEFINITELY REACTED LIKE THAT TO BEING BLOCKED HDJFJFKKG she stared at her phone like “oh. they’re really mad” and decided to give them a few days to cool off which is why she sent the first gift and after that she’d be wondering whether to text you or not for like a week; would open her phone, type in your number, pause for ten seconds then go “they’re probably still upset” and send another gift. silver wolf would be like “damn youre on your phone as often as i am. whats wrong with you” and firefly’s eventually the one telling her to go there herself to apologize and not wtv tf shes doing which is why kafka finally texts 😭 shes funny asf. the sheer ridiculousness of ordering hundreds of flowers and taking over half an hour to place them inside your apartment (that she technically broke into) to surprise you is so patheticcccc i would have swooned a bit im sorry. like omg youre pathetic get out of my house but also kiss me before you go… “forget it i’ll just get all of them” can she die 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

aaaaa im glad you have time to write the academic rivals au!! typically people have the rivals work together in some sort of assigned group project to force them to interact together but you can go about it differently, like one of them’s practicing for a big piece and the other gets to the practice room too late but but the others are taken and they have to practice the same thing anyway so might as well. or the mc is struggling and kafka happens to pass by and give her some (snarky) pointers which turns into her showing her how its done and the mc actually learning from her (which would make me homicidal). they could also just happen to meet outside of the school context and start developing a new relationship that way. do what feels right!! and yeah, kafka’s nonchalance makes it seem like shes effortlessly good when in reality she takes that shit seriously and practices often😭 it’d still piss me off tho idc

silver wolf showed up in the other event and its just so ridiculous how they always have her everywhere man😭 like fine she’s always keeping up with new games coming out and shit but would it kill them to show kafka once im gonna tear my hair out, we even got to text firefly during the wardance like im gonna screammmm. but kafka and her sending SW to check ip on the tb is so stupid they care so bad😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 typical of kafka not to show or text herself i need to strangle her. the lufou hates her tho so it’s WHATEVER.

[hugsandchaos]

Show “N” Tell

Uzi stared at the paper in intense thought. Notes covered most of the paper, notes about how she was going to improve her gun, how it turned out, what to do, what not to do, what to try, and more. She seriously wanted to work out the flaws that were plaguing her weapon, such as the recharge time. She couldn’t wait thirty minutes between shots if N’s teammates find her, she’d be dead within moments!

And while brainstorming solutions for that, she also needed to plan out the parts and steps needed to add the theoretical improvements. Not to mention how she was even going to get them!

Who knew making a sick as hell sci-fi gun was going to be so difficult?

“Alright, Uzi, do you have anything to show the class?” The teacher asked without looking up from his book. Uzi paused her intense scribbling on her notebook for her gun and briefly looked up with a confused expression. Then she remembered.

Stupid class, and stupid show and tell.

Uzi let out an exasperated sigh and turned when she heard a couple girls giggling in the “typical rude, spoiled high school bully” way, which was annoying in itself. One of them, Lizzy, raised her hand.

“Sir, I think she might’ve forgotten.” She suggested with a smug look aimed at Uzi, obviously trying to embarrass or irritate her. Lizzy dropped her hand just as another drone, who Uzi couldn’t remember her name, raised her own.”Or maybe she doesn’t have anything to show other than that creepy gun!” She laughed. The rest of the class, aside from Thad and the teacher (and U of course) laughed or snickered. Uzi glared at Lizzy.”Bite me!” She snapped, practically out of reflex at this point. She didn’t exactly say it in a sarcastic tone, but it was obviously not an actual suggestion. It only made her laugh more.

Thad sat up straight from his previous position, leaning back against his chair and using his desk as a footrest with the classic arms-folded-behind-head, and gave Lizzy a stern look.”At least she’s making something that’s actually cool! What do you make, 2000’s Barbie dolls?” He asked. The rest of the class either stopped laughing or laughed more, and those who stopped stared at Thad. They were the type of stares of disbelief that would normally make someone uncomfortable enough to back down and wish they could teleport out of the class to the safety of their bedrooms or something. But Thad kept his gaze on Lizzy, obviously not backing down.

Uzi almost smiled. It makes you feel seen and appreciated when someone stands up for you. She started to feel a bit guilty for not talking with him more and becoming friends with how nice he’s been.

“You make a good point, though. I hope it’s not her sick as hell railgun.” He started, glancing at Uzi with less anger. Her face almost faltered, but then Thad continued with a grin that held a sort of aggressive encouragement, which wasn’t very common from him.”Because I’d love to see what other neat, scary sci-fi stuff she’s made.” He finished.

Just then, there was an impact from inside the wall at the head of the class, startling everyone into looking towards the direction of the sound.

Uzi, again, nearly smiled, knowing exactly what it was. Or rather, who it was.

She cleared her throat and stood up to calmly walk up to the class while the rest were half watching, half trying to figure out what that thud was.”Actually, I did bring something that I think is even cooler than my gun.” She said. More thuds were heard from the wall, and as they grew closer, everyone turned their attention to the vent in the top left corner (facing away from the wall) near the large screen that covered the majority of the wall. Uzi turned to face the class as a pair of claws burst through the vent.

As Uzi looked at Lizzy’s petrified body peeking from the desk, she couldn’t help but think “Who’s smirking now?” despite not letting the smug grin onto her face.

The entire class screamed and froze in fear as a disassembly drone climbed down from the vents and slowly stood up with his tail swishing like an angry cat. His wings slowly unfolded as he gained the space for them and the canister of yellow nanite acid at the end of his tail dimly glowed almost intimidatingly, as if the stinger wasn’t unnerving by itself. The drone’s mouth was in a seemingly impossible wide grin, stretching from cheek to cheek and revealing sharp fangs. Everyone but Uzi stared in dread and horror.

Suddenly, the yellow X changed to a pair of yellow eyes and the claws were switched for normal hands. The wings were tucked in and the tail held a curved down-up-slight-down position. The drone smiled again, but this time it wasn’t as murderous looking as he waved at them.

“So, for this stupid show and tell, I decided to bring my best friend.” Uzi explained.

That got little to no reaction. N slowly stopped waving and awkwardly scratched the back of his head. He nervously glanced between Uzi and her class. Even the teacher was inches away from either hiding under his desk completely or hightailing it out of there.

“As for the three things I like about him, I’d say he’s great to spar with, good at flying, and probably the drone I tolerate the most.” She stated, not really wanting to loose much of her “angsty teen” reputation. N was pulled out of what would’ve been a very upsetting train of thought if his best friend hadn’t interrupted it and blinked as she spoke. He did his best not to let his tail wag at the kind statements, and thankfully, he succeeded in controlling that. And his purring mechanism too.

The teacher, not taking his eyes off of N, forced a chuckle, which came out extremely nervous.”That’s- That’s great, Uzi! Um, hehe, anyone have any questions?” He asked the class without looking at them.

Lizzy slowly raised her hand and U pointed to her in acknowledgment.”Yeah, Lizzy?” She asked.

“How can you be friends?! He’s terrifying!” Lizzy exclaimed. N’s eyes promptly widened at the accusation, but was it really an accusation when it’s true? He is pretty scary sometimes, especially with that undeniable urge to hunt and kill that came up every now and then. Mostly when he was hungry.

Uzi glanced over at N, then back at Lizzy as she pointed at him.”This guy?” She asked in mock disbelief.”No, he’s not that scary.” She said dismissively.”Anyone else?”

Thad raised his hand.“I have one.” He said. He was definitely scared and nervous (though who wouldn’t be, seeing something built and designed to hunt you down and kill you), but compared to the rest of the class, he sounded pretty confident and brave. Uzi nodded and N emotionally braced himself.

“N, right? Mind if I see those wings?” The jock asked. The lack of words such as “killer” or “scary” made N’s face light up a bit. He briefly glanced at U as if saying “did you see that?!”, then back at Thad.

“Sure!” He replied. A few of the classmates grew a bit more confident like Thad, who was now making his way up to the front of the class.

From his point of view, this was like a death sentence. It should be a death sentence, but he trusted Uzi’s judgement. After all, she was set on destroying the disassembly drones and freeing Copper 9 from the company, and yet she trusted him enough to bring him into the class and not have her gun even with her. So maybe he was trustworthy.

That trust and confidence in Uzi judgement was giving Thad the push he needed.

“You can touch them a little. Just be careful, they’re pretty sharp.” N said. He unfolded his wings, careful not to knock anything over, and watched Thad move behind him for a close inspection.

Each “feather” was shiny and sleek- almost elegant, even with how sharp they also looked. Although maybe the sharpness added to how cool they were, kind of like how the blades on those old human “army knives” looked tempting to put his thumb on the outside edge of the blade.

Thad carefully touched the blades and was practically astounded. He was always for the classic “Safety First” rule, but here he was, touching a disassembly drone’s wings! His eyes widened and the inside of them were no longer visible, only the outlines, expressing his surprise.“Woah, you weren’t kidding. It feels a kind of like a kitchen knife, but... warm?? Why are you warm?” He asked.

“Cold weather, remember?” N replied. Uzi watched them, and for a moment, let herself smile.

After just a few seconds of lifting and moving N’s wings around like a child, Thad let go and started walking back to his seat. Now, he was definitely sure of his safety and could sit normally in his seat.“Um, why don’t you let someone else have a turn?” The teacher asked.

“Guess that’s my cue to leave.” N said. He jumped up and pulled himself into the vent he came in from to leave, but before he did, he stuck his hand out in a quick wave.”See ya, Uzi! It was nice to meet your class!” He said. Uzi waved back, even though she knew he wouldn’t see it, and went back to her seat to let the next person present.

Though let’s be honest, she was back in her head thinking up of ways to improve her gun in less than two minutes.

[fulltimeviking]

I'm gonna throw your question right back at you!

Please give me your list of httyd recs. Just, all your favorites. The ones that are classic to you.

Sorry it’s taken so long to answer but !!!!!!!!! I love you for this ask alkjdhkahgdlks.

What’s awkward is that I don’t really have many titles to give you because aside from the fact I don’t read fanfic that often most of my favourites aren’t just straight up fics, they’re mostly short Tumblr drabbles or fanfic.net exclusives that have since vanished from the face of the earth 😭 but I can definitely still name some.  

So my favourite Drabble writers that come to mind are CuriosityRedux/Hiilikedragons and Avannak - I couldn’t name any particular fics haha but they’re just total nostalgia bombs for me. Hiilikedragons was maybe the first Tumblr blog I ever followed back in 2014 when I joined the fandom, and I used to keep up to date on her countdown to httyd 2 drabbles religiously. There’s something I can’t quite place about Avannak’s writing as well that I’ve always really admired. I think the way they write the characters manages to feel both true to the source material whilst still having their own unique spin on them? without feeling false or out of character? Especially for their httyd 2 era fics I just get lost in those so easily. 

Also she’s not really written many fics I don’t think, I think she mostly just did head canons but I have to mention how much I loooooved edge-of-bizarre’s modern au’s back in 2014, especially the beach fics omg - the entire gang getting up to frat kid activities, deffo my guilty pleasure (and idgaf about an oc usually but I really loved grimhilda and tuffnut 😭)

As for FIC Fics:

One of my favourites that I haven’t read in FOREVER… I don’t actually know the name of or who wrote it lmao. I have mentioned it before on this page though, it’s a short one that takes place right after the events of the second movie and it’s about Astrid’s guilty conscience over leading Drago to Valka’s sanctuary, Stoick’s death, the siege on Berk etc. It’s so good and angsty and I love it so bad, just wish I could find it and read it again (this is also a cry for help, if you know who might’ve wrote it PLEASE let me know I’ll owe u my life)

Some others off the top of my head that are rlly good are Ripped by Tysonrunningfox and The Elements of Surprise by Ecoutez! 

There are so many more writers and fics that I know I love that I’ve forgotten to mention haha, but these are the ones I have on bookmark that I revisit the most! Thank you so much for asking it genuinely made my day when I saw this in my inbox (however many months ago that was now 💀).

If anyone knows of any good fics/writers like the ones I’ve mentioned as well pleaseeee give me some recs or tag your favourites, cos I’d love to read ‘em! 

[yourbestpalpercy]

(TW: Uncomfortable themes/Implied SA, if that makes you uncomfortable, do not read this or just avoid the first paragraph if you want to still learn some trivia about her)

Glitch is done! Though I might’ve forgotten to mention her tail is COVERED WITH SPIKES LIKE SHE’S A STEGOSAURUS

As Glitch has a history with being touched (thanks to her job at a club), she’s started morphing spikes onto her body to keep people away. Since she also works as a singer for a local group in Albutist (Yes, I finally made her and Soul canonical to My Story (The original name for Minty’s story)), she’s used to having these spikes on her. The only person that can touch her is her girlfriend, Soul, as she places full trust in her.

When the spikes aren’t there, though, her fur is actually super fluffy.

Glitch is a total party animal and she talks like one of those popular girls in High School. Unlike the majority of that kind of person though, she’s incredibly nice and means her words fully. She’s an honest person. In fact, you’d probably never predict she was a murderer as she’s not the sinister type.

Another bit of trivia, Glitch was originally a Night in The Woods Oc before I switched her to a Dark Deception Oc. In recent years though, she’s just a character for my own story, no longer having roots to either game (except a reference to Night in The Woods in the form of her town name, Nightingwood).

[fairy-writes]

I LOVE THAT LAST ONE AAAAAAAAAA

okay so, another request:

pair: November 11 x Reader, of course. Dadvember dabbling, maybe, and a bit of April x November but in a caretaker to July way, not romantic.

time: early season, after November shows in Japan but not SET in Japan.

summary: this time the reader is a contractor. they wound up crossing paths during a mission and were initially on opposite sides, posing themselves as threats to one another in a similar way to November and Hei, but this time the reader winds up catching the eye of Frosty Danger, as he catches theirs, and they wind up in a secret relationship behind closed doors, furious rivals to the rest of the world. Reader doesn’t know how to deal with being attached to someone since it hadn’t happened before they became a contractor, neither does November, but at this point, does it even matter anymore?

Reader’s power: deadly plants that grow out of control and can wrap around targets and choke them, stab them, or poison them. their obeisance: they have to eat food that they absolutely despise but won’t make them sick. it’s just kind of annoying.

- Frosty anon

FORGOTTEN NAMES

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Fandom(s): Darker than Black

Pairing(s): November 11 x Reader

Word Count: 2k

Genre(s)/Tag(s): Gender Neutral!Reader, Contractor!Reader, Reader is described as smaller than November 11

Notes: I tried to limit the use of “November 11,” mainly because we don’t know his actual name. I thought it was a fun challenge :)

I also adore Lovesick November 11

THIS ALSO TOOK ON A LIFE OF ITS OWN 

I'M SO SORRY IF THIS ISN'T WHAT YOU WANTED

__________________________________________________________________________

November 11 didn’t remember his name. His true name. The one he was born with. Not anymore, anyway. Sometimes, he liked to pretend that Jack Simon was his real name. But he knew he was just lying to himself. 

Just like he lied to everyone else. 

Everyone except you. 

The body before him was bloated and swollen. Rashes covered every exposed inch of the body, and November 11 suspected it was also under the clothing. It would make sense, wouldn’t it?

You always were thorough with your work. 

He stood and pulled off his sunglasses, turning to look at the detective, who was also inspecting the corpse. 

“What do you think?” The detective asked and he shrugged, adjusting his suit coat before speaking. 

“Looks like poison ivy. Or poison oak. Or whatever the third one was, I can never remember. Perhaps the victim had a severe allergic reaction?”

The detective stood and huffed, pulling off her gloves as she did so. 

“That’s what it looks like. There is only one issue: those plants aren’t native around here. So unless someone is carrying around some poisonous plants, I’d say we have a Contractor on our hands.” She said, and he just hummed to show that he was listening. 

Pulling out his phone and walking the opposite way, he dialed your number. 

You picked up on the third ring. 

“Hello?” Your tone instantly made a smile tug on the corners of his mouth. 

“Were you around 12th Street this morning, say around three o’clock in the morning?” He asked, hearing you hum a song. He also heard the crinkle of paper and the rustle of something.

You must’ve been in the kitchen. 

“I suppose I might’ve been. Why?” You say cryptically, and he laughs under his breath. 

“Just curious.” He said and heard you bark out a laugh.

“That’s a lie. Did you find my little present yet?” At that, he halted and spun on his heel, swiftly approaching the body. He knelt where it was propped up against the wall and pulled on a pair of nitrile gloves, cradling his phone in the crook of his shoulder. With gloved fingers, he rifled through the suit jacket and pockets. 

Only to find a flower. You always did like your flowers. 

It was a buttercup, if he remembered right. That was one thing he always picked up around you: your knowledge of flowers. 

“So, did you find it?” You chirp over the phone, and he hummed and hawed for a moment, letting you stew in your impatience. Only when you complain does he answer you, twirling the flower between his fingers. 

“Of course, I found it, love. Might I ask what it means?”

“Get over here, and I’ll tell you.” You say softly into the receiver, and he chuckles,

“Give me ten minutes, darling.”

When he arrived, approximately nine minutes and thirty-two seconds later, Bloomscape Flowers was closed. But he took the key from under the mat and unlocked it, stepping inside as he pocketed it. He walked past rows of flowers of all kinds. Chrysanthemums, pansies, roses—they were all here and carefully cultivated and blooming under your keen eye. 

All the way in the back, past the counter, there’s a door leading upstairs above the shop. Opening it, he catches a whiff of freshly baked bread and whatever you were making for dinner. It smelled delicious, but he knew better. He knew you would hate it.

You notice he walks in the second the door opens.

“Welcome home!” You call from the kitchen, and he immediately feels like a weight has been taken off his shoulders. Loosening his tie and hanging his suit coat in your coat closet, he toes off his shoes and follows your voice into the kitchen. 

“I’m home.” He said a bit belatedly, and you looked up at him with a beaming grin. 

“I noticed.” You teased, and his mouth quirked up into a small smile.

You step close, tugging off your oven mitts, and his arms go around your waist. You reach up to tug on his tie to tug him down to your lips, meeting in a sweet kiss that makes him forget everything that’s been weighing on his mind. 

The case he’s been forced to work on.

The fact that he already knows who committed the crime. 

And the fact that he has to disobey orders just to keep you safe. 

You taste like your strawberry chapstick, and as your lips move against his, he finds himself crowding you back against the counter so he can kiss you properly. He breaks away to press kisses to the underside of your jaw and feels more than hear you giggle as he reaches the ticklish spot just under your ear. 

“No marks, Nov.” You say, and he huffs indignantly.

“You’re no fun.” He goes to kiss you again, but then the oven beeps, so you put a finger to his lips to stop him in his tracks. He scowls at the stove as you go to open the kitchen appliance, seriously considering icing it over. 

But that would just make you mad, so he refrained. 

It isn’t long before dinner is served, and he digs into it with gusto. He loved your cooking. 

You, however, take your time. With every bite, you plug your nose and immediately chase it with water—your obeisance. Being forced to eat foods you despised was almost as bad as smoking. At least you weren’t going to die early because of it. 

Dinner is wrapped up quickly, mostly because you can’t stand eating for long when you have your price to pay. He washes while you dry and put away, so it takes little more than fifteen minutes to clean up your mess. Then, the two of you share the wicker loveseat out on your balcony. You have your legs thrown over his lap and lean your head against his shoulder. In return, his arm is draped across your shoulders as he looks out on the city. With his free hand, he pulls the crumpled flower out of his shirt pocket and studies it. 

“It means ‘You are radiant with charm.’” You murmur, and he looks down to see you already looking up at him,

“Pardon?” You jerk your head toward the flower in his hand. 

“The buttercup. It means you are a charming man. I thought it fitting.” You say, and he exhales a laugh, tucking the flower into your hair. 

“You are a thousand times more charming than I, my love.”

The scent of cigarette smoke was thick in the air as November 11 exhaled a cloud of smoke with a deep cough.

The body before him was frozen and crumbling due to his Contract. And because he used his Contract to freeze that idiot solid, he had to pay the price.

A tug on his free hand, he looked down to see July, staring blankly into the distance. July’s other hand is pressed flat against the glass of a window display. 

“They’re there.” The doll mumbled, and he tensed. 

Who was here? 

Only for you to step out of the shadows.

Despite you wearing a porcelain mask to obscure your features, he knew it was you. Knew it was you by the way you walked, the way you sprinkled seeds along the ground, and the way you paused for a split second in your step when you spotted him. Your eyes met his, and he only had the time to shake his head once before things went to shit. 

The detective who had inspected the body covered in rashes the day he found the buttercup pulled her gun and pointed it at you. 

“Stop right there!” She bellowed, and you cocked your head to the side, studying her through the glassy eyes of your mask. He could see the gears turning in your mind before you began to glow blue, the mask’s blank eyes doing nothing to hide the crimson glow of your pupils. 

The concrete cracked and splintered beneath their feet as two massive plants erupted from the ground. They looked almost like Venus flytraps if Venus flytraps got to be eight feet tall. One of them swooped down and scooped up the remains of the person he had just killed, swallowing the pieces whole before lurching forward in an attempt to eat him, July, and the detective. 

Well… Maybe not him or July, but it was certainly eyeing the detective with a hungry gaze—as hungry as a thing could look without eyes, anyway. 

As he started to move July behind his back, they were suddenly soaked in a torrent of rain. His suit was soaked, his hair dripping wet, his cigarette extinguished, and he could feel his socks squelch in his shoes. July looked up at the sky blankly and then to the side where April was waving a hand, surrounded by the same blue glow as you. He activated his own Contract and froze the ground surrounding one of your plants, freezing it over and shattering it. 

He could apologize to you later. 

Meanwhile, you ducked under a bullet from the detective and skipped backward to let your remaining carnivorous plant take over. It lunged and snapped but to no avail. 

You would have to get clever if you wanted to kill the detective. 

But there wasn’t anything November 11 could do to help you unless he wanted to give away his position as your lover. And that would definitely get you (and probably him) killed. 

It wasn’t long before you got your chance. 

You reached into your pocket, throwing a handful of what looked like dirt at the detective. She sputtered and spat out what he realized were seeds.

But it was too late. 

Vines took root in the concrete around her and wrapped her up like a Christmas present. But that wasn’t what made his stomach turn. That was the fact that she must’ve swallowed one or two. Because vines erupted from her belly and throat, spattering the ground with blood and innards. Your remaining carnivorous plant gobbled up her body, leaving no trace but the blood and guts on the ground. 

And even that was washed away by April’s rain. 

He pushed the door open to your apartment and heard you gagging. 

You must’ve been paying your price already. 

He shed his coat and shoes before following the sound of your despair to the master bathroom, where you were hunched over the toilet. You retched but didn’t actually get sick, a plate of food on your bedside table showing what you had been eating. He leaned on the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“I’m home.” He said, and you waved half-heartedly from your spot at the toilet. 

Eventually, you stood and flushed, shuddering as you rid yourself of the horrid smell that was the food you despised. He leaned down to kiss you, but you recoiled with a disgusted look scrunching your nose. 

“You’ve been smoking again.” You said, and he huffed. 

“I had to pay my price, my love.” He said, and you still scrunched up your nose. 

“I’m not kissing you until you change and brush your teeth.”

So, there he stood, scrubbing his teeth with his toothbrush as you did the same, getting the taste of smoke and food out of your mouths. He rinsed and gargled with mouthwash before taking a shower. The towel hung around his neck as he rubbed the fabric over his hair to dry the blond strands. You look up from your book as he comes out, towel around his waist and little else on. He catches you staring as he changes into the nightshirt and pants you had laid out for him. 

“Like what you see?” He teases, and you roll your eyes, returning to your book.

“I always do.” You tease him right back, and he just laughs. 

Approaching your side, he leans down and finally kisses you. You carefully mark your place in your book before eagerly returning the kiss. 

Finally. 

[self-shipping-doll13]

And the tendency for tenants is secrecy.

Word Count: 1.8k

Cw: death mentions, swearing, paranoia, implications that an unseen person is really not having a good time™️

Noise wasn’t exactly tolerated where I lived. 

The crashing of pots made me jump first. A mistake washing dishes knocked just about the entirety of my kitchenware onto the ground… Luckily nothing had been damaged. Then it was the angry fist at my door. Mr. Davidson lived on the same floor as me. He was also the landlord. I rushed to accommodate him. 

His reaction was so angry it itched in my skin. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry! It won’t happen again…” 

“You’re right it won’t!”

I grimaced apologetically, like a dog presenting its belly in an act of submission. A taught behaviour. Quickly, I explained, made promises, and got off on a warning. 

This demand of silence bordered on unreasonable. 

Of course, that was fine. I could be calm and quiet. The noise rule definitely had its upsides: no rowdy parties (the flats were too small anyway), no thumping music, no loud children shrieking and banging on the walls. It was more than perfect for me. Late at night I’d sit at my desk, restless, listening to car horns blaring outside. Mr. Davidson wasn’t too bad. You got used to it. 

My other neighbours were far less unpleasant. 

One I ended up liking in particular was as elderly lady named Ms. Adler. She’d hobble up and down stairs unsuited to arthritic knees, clutching her velvety handbag, her feet wrapped in those soft little slippers with pastel petals embroidered over the toes. Always kind and cheerful, offering you a little sweet or a mint and patting your hand in fond chuckling laughter. As if you were her own long lost grandchild. 

She lived alone. No one visited her but me.  

Ms. Adler came to greet me a few times too. Once when I’d just moved in, and I didn’t know anyone.

It was my first time living alone - in the big city, and my new apartment was a mess of cardboard. When she saw Peaches around my heels, she’d coo and pucker her lips. “Oh, little sweetheart…” Bent down painfully. She actually managed to elicit a curious sniff. 

There was a young man who lived here too. He kept to himself. Well… ‘Reclusive’ actually might’ve been an understatement. I barely saw him. A person like that could be easily overlooked or forgotten, scrubbed over with happier, funnier memories. If only he wasn’t so strange - if only our encounters weren’t so awkward. 

Months ago: It was still very dark outside, I was leaving early for my appointment, going downstairs. He was going up. Going home? Ah, that was a problem. 

Obstructions were pretty common. The stairway was tiny, one-way, ideal for traffic jams, and the lifts were out of order for as long as I’d known them. Lawrence - I only learnt his name later - wore a sweatshirt and had his yellowish hair tied back. The fluorescent bulbs shone his face a sickly cadaverous hue. He gave me a deer-in-the-headlights stare I probably mimicked. No one could have appeared more harmless. I stopped and made an embarrassing noise in my throat. 

“Nice plant.” I must’ve been chipper that day. He was gently cradling one I wouldn’t know the name of. The leaves were glossy and vibrant, stained red, like someone had emptied their veins all over it. I imagined they were healthy. “Uh… I’ll get out of your way.” 

“…Thanks.” He looked away, grinning. Baring his teeth in a cagey wince. I could even tell he was anxious. A bit of shuffling. I hopped back up the narrow steps.    

“Have a good morning.” Not much else for me to say. 

“Uh… You too.” And well, that should’ve been that. 

But Lawrence didn’t enter his apartment. He stood with one hand clamped around the handle. I realised he must’ve been waiting for me to leave first. So I did.

This was the first time I discovered it was possible to feel someone’s eyes fixated on you. The back of my neck was unguarded, (no scarf, like an idiot) and for an odd moment I feared my throat would be ripped out. Instinctual residue from a distant, herbivore past. 

But was I unnerved or simply nervous? 

I was on the bottom floor. I lingered. From above me, the metallic symphony of too many locks. Echoing. 

My routine was mundane. I was an insect pinned in a glass box. Life here was small and compact that way. And when something was amiss, you noticed it. 

Of course you did. 

Shampoo, hairties, pens. I didn’t know how I lost things when there was scarcely anywhere for them to hide. I inspected my fridge. Did I still have milk at least? 

No. It was all gone. I sucked an involuntary breath in. This reminded me of other things I could’ve forgotten, which in hindsight was a good thing. Because just then I remembered too late the last of the dry stuff I fed Peaches tinkled into her bowl - fuck, how did I let things get away from me so often… I checked again and the bag was still empty. Obviously. Nothing left for the morning. I had to leave early for my lecture, too. 

My clock told me it was 1am - I should be asleep now. But I decided on biting the bullet, grabbed my keys and pulled on my jacket, boots and coat. Not my scarf. 

January was miserable at the best of times. But the sharp, frozen air outside was strangely refreshing, like a bucket of cold water. I was high on adrenaline, too. The nearest open shop was about a 5 minute walk. I might’ve dozed, since I blinked and I was there. 

I trudged up the entrance. Automatic doors slid open with an off note chime. I recognised Lawrence. Not honestly a surprise - I only met him this late at night, the occurrences random, but increasingly persistent. He only spared me a passing glance before he quickly refocused back on the snacks he was holding. 

The bright light here was almost nauseating. I found the right aisle, snatched up what I needed and silently joined the queue. Not that it was much of a holdup - but the person at the front was laughing and joking with a cashier who probably deserved a break. Lawrence wasn’t talkative. For now I was glad for it. Something in his quiet lifted the pressure to act fully human. 

I sighed and leant against the sweets rack. The colourful packets were borderline hypnotic to my exhausted brain. A dazzling array of yellows and pinks, swirls, funky lettering, anything to lure in those wonderful impulse buys. My lids were about as heavy as lead. God, this guy was taking forever… 

I let myself drift away for a bit. My neighbour’s voice was so low and soft, it took a moment to register. 

“Excuse me… I need to get past you…” 

Startled, I jumped, and regretted meeting his stare. Two icepick eyes boring into me like a lobotomy. 

“Oh.” I moved to the side. He disappeared.   

Lawrence didn’t come back, so I took his place and bought what I needed. I felt a little embarrassed. Did I really just nod off right in front of him? Jesus. 

Exiting, I took a fresh gulp of oxygen, the world outside appeared to have died. Witching hour was upon the city now, silenced and watchful. I could even hear my own footsteps, my boots scuffing on the pavement. I set one before the other. Step, step, step. Never underestimate the crushing weight of silence. Thoughts were swarming around in the hive of my mind. 

Future thoughts and past thoughts and everything in between. Assignments, dates, meals. Tossing around in a faulty washing machine. Step, step, step. 

The mass of my shopping crinkled. Unease flooded me without reason. Or perhaps I had all the reason; I was alone, so defenceless… Strange tension raked down my upper vertebrae. The fine hairs stood up on the back of my neck, I reflexively whirled to look— 

There was no one there. No one I could see. 

Skittish, a lone doe in a big metal forest, I felt the urge to hide. I clutched the plastic bag to myself. It would make a lousy weapon, I thought. My heart raced in my chest like it was trying to escape. I made an effort to force it down. Ridiculous. Just the adrenaline… 

I walked on, passing under dim yellow streetlights. The city council had updated most of the area with better, more radiant lamps, but this particular block was a bit overlooked. So between the flickering rays lay patches of complete and utter darkness. I sped up, and jumped again when my road was blocked by a motorcycle. 

The big scarred biker revved his engine at me. I waved at him nervously and he let me pass. I didn’t care to decipher his wolfish grin. I just wanted to get home. 

At the sound of my apartment door opening, Peaches let out a quiet chirp and leapt down from my bed. 

The click of the lock told me I was fine and safe now. I stroked her flexible spine, ignoring how my own still tingled. Her tail wiggled in that happy way. 

“Yes, this is for you… No, you can’t have it now.” 

In my pyjamas, I debated if it was worth it to even attempt sleeping. Not if I crashed too hard too early. My blood was still pumping hard, anyway. So I ended up making this late night one that I never wanted to stop, pushing it and pushing it, until it was 4am and I realised with sinking dread that I only had a few more dwindling, choked out hours until my life resumed. 

Everything was more beautiful when you had little time to savour it. Music painted in colours so evergreen. All of the books I’d never open. How thunder rumbled, loud and massive. I realised a heavy downpour was pattering against my windows. I envisioned the rain gathering and dribbling into soil, trickling down bark. The universe was so alive, birthing, living, rotting. Sleep numbed that, at once instant and endless. Just like dying. That might’ve been the adrenaline, too. 

That’s when I heard the noise. An ear-piercing shriek, more animal than human. My response this time was to go rigid. It came from my floor. I stared down at it. 

Mr. Davidson wasn’t happy. “Shut the fuck up!” I heard enraged stomping. Must’ve disturbed his rest. 

I tried to remember who lived just below me… And I hoped they didn’t get it too rough in the morning. Maybe they’d just blasted a horror film by accident or something. The incident left me giggly. Or it might’ve been jitters. I padded over to my fridge and got a coke - a little treat. It bubbled like lava down my throat as I sat back down on my rickety bed, folding my legs. 

Returning to my laptop, I imagined my neighbour was staying awake too. The thought was oddly comforting. This dark and secret gap in time was just for us. 

Then, a quiet fluttering. A perishing. I looked up. A moth was beating its fragile wings against a bulb. So tiny, this insect boxed into 4 walls. It and I both. 

Add flowers - this place might be my tomb.

Dividers by @/firefly-graphics

[lostaroace]

Beware of the dragon | Anders Johnson x Fem!Reader

My Fanfic Masterlist | Multifandom

Fandom: The Almighty Johnsons

Pairing: Anders Johnson x Dragon!Fem!Reader

Rating: General.

Content Warnings: free call on mythical creatures, swearing, jealousy.

Summary: The Johnsons are humans again, but their relationship with the Norse gods is not quite done yet. The woman Anders had been longing for shows up holding a red stone and asking for Colin which proves that she wasn’t a mortal as he had thought. When she meets Colin, Anders starts to feel a very disturbing feeling of jealousy. Will he do something about it?

Word Count: 5140

Also avialable on AO3

This work was created to be part of the Deanobingo2023 event by @deanobingo​ It fills the Character Card with Anders Johnson and the General Prompt Card with Dimples and Jealousy. 

Beware of the dragon | Oneshot

Being a mortal sucked. That was Anders' conclusion after a full week without Bragi's powers. If it wasn't for Dawn he had no idea what would've happened to his company, seriously. It was ridiculous how much he had relied on his silver tongue to sweet-talk his clients, what the actual fuck. He knew his business, of course, and he still had the cute blue eyes, his nice smile with those dimples that made people look at him twice… Yeah, sure, Anders' had his tools, but they didn't work with everyone. However, he was a great judge of character and was able to understand if his client needed to fat their ego or if they were more on the 'saving people' end of the line. If only his business had not been blown before the whole stunt…

He wanted to get drunk after a tedious day at work. He had named Dawn as a partner of his company to acknowledge her talent and hard work, and even if they still had to cover her previous position by hiring someone, they decided to go celebrate. Ty, as might've been expected, had Mike agreed to them using the main floor of his place as a get-together point of reunion; they would drink, congratulate Dawn, probably at Anders' expense, and then they all would go to dinner or a pub or something. Ty was the guy with a plan, Anders' just wanted to get pissed.

As the Johnsons together with Dawn, Hanna, Gaia, Zeb, Michele, and Stacey entered the place, they found a woman behind the bar playing with a shining red stone. Her eyes looked at all of them as a predator would.

"Welcome home. Now, who's going to tell me where Colin Gunderson lives?"

When the others glanced at Anders looking for answers he had none to give. She had been occupying his mind for a week now as he thought that with his change of status, she would've forgotten him.

Thinking now, there must've been signs that pinned her down as something else than mortal.

The first time Anders saw her, she was surrounded by books in her cozy office. Her personal assistant had made him enter the room, but she was still so focused on her books that she hadn't noted the new presence, or so the thought. Anders cleared his throat and her intense look pierced his soul, his skin breaking into goosebumps. As he introduced himself in the name of his company, she accepted his presence as well as the idea of having her publishing company work with J: PR.

Anders was unable to forget her after that. She was a constant presence in the back of his mind, never suffocating or incapacitating, just there. As time went by, Anders found himself seeking her company in a platonic way. He longed so hard for her that he just took whatever she was willing to give. The idea of using his powers to have her was out of the question, just as much as the possibility of her finding him attractive or worthy. Anders had no idea why the fuck he thought that, but the moment those eyes glued to his, he was unable to be pretentious.

Then the whole incident with Rosie happened. She had shown up to J: PR with a frown and a clenched jaw.

"What the fuck have you done?" She scolded.

"I haven't done anything," he put on his best innocent facade. "Look, if Rosie gave him the pills it's just–"

"Don't you dare to lie to me," she seemed to growl, her voice deeper than usual, coming out from the core of her chest. Anders' mouth dried out.

"He's a better client. That's all. This is business." His own confession surprised him.

She sighed with disappointment. "You had a loyal client and you just stabbed her in the back. Am I supposed to expect the same behavior on your part, Anders?"

"Never." His voice waved. "I will never do something like this to you!"

"How can I believe you now?" Her shoulders dropped with exhaustion. "I think it's better if we part ways."

"What? No. Hey, come on, don't do this. I'll fix it! I will!"

First Dawn quit her job wearing earplugs and now this. Bragi's voice itched in his throat, willing to be of use and this time avoid her for leaving him. It never came up. She turned around and left the office while he was frozen in place unable to say anything else, unable to process the panic that was crawling under his skin.

He had to fix the situation, and he did. He fixed Rosie's reputation, engaged Dawn in the job again, and, finally, he went to The Hoard Publishing. She listened to everything he had to say, which was good, but unnerving at the same time. When she accepted to keep the business relationship Anders felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

That's how their weekly dinner meetings started. Every Tuesday, Anders would go to The Hoard Publishing with some takeout after work and just have dinner with her there while talking about nothingness. When he was in her cozy office he felt more at home than in his apartment. The furniture was homey with warm tones, fabrics, and woodwork. She had a couple of armchairs that screamed comfort. The walls of the room were dressed with shelves from floor to ceiling, all of them heavily stocked with books. It didn't matter where he looked, books were piling up on every surface, and each week the books that surrounded her on the desk were different. He should've felt overwhelmed and even claustrophobic in that environment, but instead, he felt content.

More times than not, Anders felt the pull of just blurting out his with to properly date her although he wasn't the dating type; maybe that's what stopped him. He didn't want a one-stand with her and the possibilities of him engaging in a long-term relationship were scarce.

That's when his mother sent him away looking for Yggdrasil. All that time away, all those Tuesday nights missed, for the damn stick to get hold of at Customs. Not only that! His baby brother got super sick and forced them to lose their powers, the egg.

Everything was wrong, wrong, wrong.

"What happened to your face? Are you applying for a dwarf role in the new Peter Jackson production or something?" She asked with a sweet smile when he finally gathered the courage to visit.

"You don't like my beard?"

"Hides your dimples."

"So, you like my dimples, then?"

"You love yourself way too much, Anders."

He shrugged, "If not me, then who?"

She nodded accepting his logic. After that, it was as if he had never left. He was afraid that the time without seeing each other would make the reunion awkward, but it was the opposite. Anders felt like he was finally complete, and that was terrifying.

Then Helen happened, and Gaia after that, which filled Anders with so many contradictory feelings that he decided to avoid the publisher as much as possible. He hated it, of course, and not only because she was the only big client in his company after the big fiasco next to the people from the uneatable cereal and the dog food.

"Tell me you're not sticking your nose in politics." Was the first text in weeks that she sent to Anders.

How she found out was a mystery. Yes, Colin had offered Anders a huge amount of money for helping him with the campaign to be Auckland's new mayor. He wanted that, needed that thrill, that emotion, the idea of being him behind someone else's success. His name flew mouth-to-mouth until his company became the most requested of them all. Of fucking course he wanted that!!

They stopped talking since then and Anders kept telling himself that it was because he was too busy with Colin's campaign and that his Tuesday nights were full.

One day, for whatever reason, she walked into J: PR after Ty as he was in a rush to deliver something. She waited patiently while Dawn signed the receipt. The office was full of life with workers for the campaign, not that she paid attention to anything; Anders had seen her appear and debated on whether or not to get up and do some small talk. Ty turned to leave finding the door blocked by Colin. After a few uncomfortable words, Anders' brother left and Colin asked Dawn for something.

She was happy to wait, obviously, but she didn't like to be ignored by Dawn as she made a beeline to Anders' desk to ask him about the whole deal between Ty and Colin. Once her curiosity was mostly satisfied she turned to go back to her seat suddenly realizing that the publisher was there, waiting.

"Dawn, could you get me the documents we talked about?" she asked the blonde.

"Oh! Of course, sorry."

The woman searched in her workplace for said documents while Colin took in the publisher's presence. He looked at her head to toe a couple of times before wearing his best smile and playing with his best manners.

"I'm afraid we've not been introduced," he offered his hand. "My name is Colin Gunderson, and I am now running for mayor."

She shook his hand introducing herself with weary eyes, "I'm not really into politics, Mr. Gunderbar."

"Gunderson," he corrected with a polite smile.

"Sure," she dismissed his correction.

"You know, I'm looking forward to improving the well-being of our marvelous city. You might not be into politics, but I'm sure there's something you'll want to improve, isn't it?"

"I guess, although I doubt you have the citizens' best interest at heart, Mr. Gundermorguen."

"Gunderson," he grumbled. "I totally understand your skepticism, as you have not heard yet my great proposal. Anders! Anders, tell this beautiful woman about my campaign."

Anders, who was having a great time with her intentional mistakes on Colin's last name, started talking about it but got cut out when she seethed.

"I don't care. And, Mr. Gunderthunder–"

"Gunderson."

"–I'm very good at pointing out liars. Want to know why? Because their mouths stink from all the bullshit that comes out of them. Now, give me back my hand, Mr. Gundermoth, as I want to leave."

Colin was obfuscated. He was clenching his jaw with ire, biting down his comeback as he still wanted to be on Dawn's good side. Anders saw that on him as much as the mischievous grin the publisher gifted them. Once she had the documents in her hands, she left without looking back.

"What was in those documents?" He asked Dawn as Colin decided to have some alone time in the bathroom.

"The information about her company that we've collected over the time she's been our client. Her new PR company needed it."

"New what?"

"I told you like a thousand times, Anders. Do you really not listen to me? The Hoard Publishing canceled our contract. Thank god it was just after you decided to do this campaign with Colin or we would be drowning."

Everything was dark in Anders' heart after that. When Colin insinuated using Bragi's power to lure Dawn into sleeping with him it was the last straw. Anders was cunning and power motivated, sure, but he had standards and principles; especially since Rosie's incident, his conscience had developed extra roots. Without Colin's money, J: PR got back to anguish. Anders hesitated for a few weeks until he decided to suck it up and drag his cute little bum into The Hoard Publishing; he begged and pleaded, but even in his desperation he did not resort to Bragi.

She had accepted to renew her faith in him and Anders pushed his luck further by inviting himself on Tuesday night to have dinner with her like before. It had been awkward at first, but he had missed it so much that he overlooked the uneasiness. He even flirted with her!!

Understanding that after the ritual between Odin and Frigg, the mortals would forget about them, that she was going to forget everything about him, it was quite a shock.

On his penultimate day as Bragi, Anders burst into her office and slashed open his heart and soul to her. He didn't tell her about the god stuff because he knew it was insane, but he explained the sleepless nights he spent thinking of her, of how much he longed for her touch, her smile, her undivided attention… His palms were sweaty and his breath was shaky while waiting for any kind of reaction on her part.

She looked at him over at the manuscript she had been correcting, blinking slowly as she took him in. He swallowed feeling extremely vulnerable and exposed. Cautiously, the same way a predator would approach a prey, she closed the distance between them and caressed his cheek with a feathery touch. Anders gasped when her fingernails scratched his stubble. He had kissed a lot of women since he hit puberty; this was different. That kiss made his skin burn with desire, his finger itching with want, and moans creeping on the back of his throat unable to stop them.

The realization hit him when they were recovering from a night of nonstop lovemaking; he had no clue about what to do to make her remember him. He wasn't Ty, he didn't know if he was able to work extra hard to win her over again. Especially since he had no fucking idea how he had done it, to begin with.

That's how he had ghosted her for the whole day as he slept with Michele, went with her and Mike to the casino, and, finally, participated in the ritual by saying his goodbyes to Bragi. Hence how Anders hadn't seen her in a while.

He gaped at her as she was waiting patiently for them to speak.

As she seethed, she turned around the bar to sit on one of the stools.

"Do I have to repeat myself?"

"We don't know where Colin is." Ty squared his shoulders to look bigger.

She crocked her head to the side taking a deep breath through her nose. "It doesn't smell like a lie, but it's not a truth either. I don't like it. Too ambiguous. Also, it's not what I asked Tyrone. Where does he live?"

"I'm sorry, but what is this about?" Mike stepped forward.

"Well, Bragi told me that Loki never made it to Asgard, and Odin's certain that the asshole is still here. As they're now happily away from Midgard they've decided to use me to clean their mess," she looked to the ceiling, "although I. AM. NOT. YOUR. PET."

"A dragon!!" Olaf yelled with a sudden realization.

Ingrid looked at her, eyes wide. "Of course… Oh, we've been so blind! I knew there was something off with you."

"Wait. Wait! I'm not getting what's going on here," Anders walked closer to her but kept a secure distance. "Firstly, what do you mean that you've talked to Bragi? And secondly, what the fuck do they mean by you being a dragon?"

"Your confusion smells funny, Anders." There it was, the predatory smile that made his heart flutter.

"Dragons are mythological creatures just as giants or dwarfs, though scarce. They're possessive, and they hoard. I didn't know they had a good relationship with gods," Ingrid explained, the publisher who was, in fact, a dragon got up to the stool and faced her with a finger pointing menacingly.

"Hey! We wouldn't have eaten gods if they stopped trying to hunt us down for our skin. And my hoard is none of your business, mortal."

"They're also patient creatures when suited, but they have some fierce temperament. They have an extremely sensitive sense of smell. Hello," Ingrid finished slightly uncomfortable with the dragon's proximity.

She snarled and retreated to her stool, crossing her arms over her chest. "You know, now that you're mortals and away from the gods' business, the best thing for you would be to just answer my question and I would be out of your sight."

"You can't just show up saying Loki's still here and expect us to pretend we don't care," Mike stated.

"Why not?"

"Because we care!"

She scrunched her nose, "Liar. You don't care, you're just bored with your mortal life." Mike started to complain, but she wasn't paying attention to him, her head shot up looking at the ceiling. "Oi! Shut the fuck up, you smug idiot. Do I look like I'm wasting time on purpose? If you're so worried, get your pretty ass down here and DO THE JOB YOURSELF!"

Massaging her temples she sighed, and locked her eyes with Anders', "How did you manage to share a life with Bragi without developing a chronic migraine?"

"It's not like he talked to me directly."

"He did," she dismissed. "What? Well, I guess not with precise words and using his own voice, but he definitely communicated with you. And now won't shut up."

"All right, as former Odin, I propose we all calm down and you explain what you want with Colin. Try to do it like we were toddlers," Axl quickly added sensing her patience shaking.

Apparently, after the ritual, Loki had left for Midgard, but he never made it to Asgard because Colin had used that red stone to link Loki. He had thrown the stone at the ground when everyone was leaving, only to return later and use it to drive Loki back. The god was now powerful enough to use his magic to shapeshift until his appearance was the same as Colin's. In the beginning, both of them had lived in Auckland but Mortal!Colin was too egocentric to subdued himself to God!Colin, which ended up with Loki using the stone to absorb the mortal; then he got rid of it, and because he's a nostalgic little shit, he threw it at the same spot where the ritual took place.

Bragi, who had been pestering her since he had gone to Asgard, warned her about the Loki situation and she performed the investigation that gave them answers, but she had no idea where she could find Colin as his old house had been sold.

"And are you strong enough to force Loki out of here?" Mike asked skeptically.

"I haven't eaten a mortal in five hundred years, Mikkel, want to be the one who breaks my record?" She snarled.

"We can lure him here," Axl proposed and his brothers voiced their concerns and complaints. "Hear me out. He's pretending to be Colin, he'll come here, especially if Mike challenges his virility and power. Then she can take him down or whatever. I think it's easier than looking for him somewhere else. I'm sure that he knows Odin had noticed his absence."

"Huh… It's interesting to see that you can use your brain from time to time, Axl." She pinned Mike with her eyes, "Call him then."

"I don't have his phone number."

She growled shaking her head in disgust, "Do not lie to me."

"Do it, Mike," Anders ordered with a frown.

"Fine," Mike threw his arms into the air in surrender.

As he was lying on the phone, she scratched her nose in disgust. Anders was unable to tear his eyes from her. Paying attention to her using the new information in his mind, he was able to pin down the elements that screamed what she was. First, it was her whole demeanor. She held herself as she was bigger and stronger than she looked, she owned every room she stepped into with her precise movements, her chin up, and her eyes scanning the place as if she was looking for someone. Now Anders thought that she was probably looking for a menace. Dragons, as he understood, were very weary of their surroundings and not particularly social, that's why it shocked him extra hard the fact that she welcomed him into her lair (her office in The Hoard Publishing) weekly.

"You hoard books," he voiced one of his conclusions about her.

Apparently, the change of subject helped her focus on the smell of his words instead of Mike's. "Knowledge, mostly. But, as it turned out, knowledge comes in books. They smell good as well."

"You knew? That I was a god, I mean."

"Yes. Bragi has always had a particular smell; like when the bananas are so ripe that although they're still sweet, they have an acid undertone." She seemed to deem for a moment, pursing her lips. "However, it was very subtle and I must admit that I missed it at the beginning. Your own essence blocked Bragi's."

"My essence? What– What do I smell like?"

"Sex. Weed. Smoke. Chemicals from the drugs. And lies. It's a very intense… odor. No offense."

"Yes, offense! What the fuck? If I smell that bad why did you spend time with me willingly?"

"Because you smell better when you're being honest. Plus, on Tuesday nights you paid extra attention to not smoking, or drinking, although I'm positive it was unconsciously."

Thinking about it, she was right. He noticed how she subtly kept more distance between them if he had smoked or drank that day, and then he stopped having sex on both Mondays and Tuesdays just to be closer to her. All this time he thought she had some sort of analytic eye, like the detectives of noir novels.

Once Colin accepted the meeting, she busied herself playing with the red stone at the bad, twisting it and turning it like a spinning top. The Johnsons and the former goddess were free to go and do whatever they wanted at that point, she didn't need them anymore, but they were all so captivated by being in the presence of a dragon that leaving seemed unnatural. Pouring themselves some spirituous drinks, the mortals gathered away from her where they could still look at her while mumbling their wildest hypothesis.

Anders didn't like the picture in front of him. They had made her into a zoo attraction, a wild animal bored to death in a glass cage with thousands of tourists peeping in wanting for it to suddenly become a savage ball of raw rage. She was doing her best to ignore them, focusing her attention on the stone, but Anders knew her well enough to see how her nonchalance was a facade. She was gifting them her patience, which was one step behind on running out.

She started to whisper under her breath and Anders thought she was probably cursing them for using her as a freak show, that was until he heard her say Bargi's name. A conversation, that is what it was. Bragi was having a conversation with the dragon, one that only she could listen to and understand. Oh, Anders hated it. His stomach started to turn, a sour undertaste overflowing in his mouth. If she had known he was Bragi's vessel this whole time, would it mean that she wanted to fuck Bragi to begin with? That night in which Anders threw himself into honesty in front of her, did she accept him because of him or because of Bragi.

Fuck, he was jealous.

That was new. He had never experienced jealousy like that. He'd had troubled thoughts due to his brothers and the attention they received from their mother when they were young, sure. He'd envied Ty and how easily people seemed to like him even with his poor anger management. But jealousy because someone he was interested in was more interested (or could be more interested) in someone else? Never. It was new and he didn't know if he was able to control it. That was frightening. He'd seen a lot of people do stupid things because they were jealous, including hurting the people they most cared about, and he didn't want to be just that toxic towards anyone, much less towards her.

Abruptly, she picked up the stone, put it in her pocket, and jumped the bar hiding behind it. Colin entered Mike's place seconds later as if he owned it, almost dancing with each step exuding confidence. When he saw the congregation he said some sarcastic and bitter remarks unaware of the woman that closed the exit on his back.

"Sit." To the growl in her voice, Colin turned immediately eyeing her.

"I know you, you were the lady not interested in politics. Well, I'm not running for mayor anymore."

In a fluid movement, she pushed the man into a chair sitting on top of him, her chest vibrating with her constant growl.

"Uh, is this a lap dance?"

"What does the red stone do, Gunderbar?" She growled.

"I'm Gunderson. Colin Gunderson. And I have no clue what are you talking about. Hey! Johnsons! Do something with this crazy woman!"

She smiled showing her teeth to be dangerously sharp. The iris in her eyes changed to an unnatural green as her pupil slanted vertically and the white in them disappeared. As her growling increased her chest and throat started to glow.

"Fuck! Get off me!! Johnsons, a hand!!"

"You've been naughty, Loki Laufeyson."

"I'm not Loki, I'm Colin."

She grabbed his face, claws instead of fingernails, keeping him in place as her other hand ripped his clothing. "Lying liar that lies. I hate it. They don't smell good. Talk the truth."

Logically, Anders knew he should be scared while the woman he knew was turning more and more into a dragon, but he couldn't help the arousal that broke his skin into goosebumps. However, at the same time, there was a bitter twist setting in the pit of his stomach. The jealousy was hitting him hard again, this time not because of her close friendly relationship with Bragi, but because of bloody Colin. Yes, she was menacing at the moment, with Colin completely at her mercy, yet she was sitting on top of him, touching him, the distance between their faces almost inexistent… Anders hated it. He was fucking jealous and he wanted them to break apart immediately.

Her claws had broken Colin's skin on his chest, but he wasn't buggering. Anders could see how Mike was growing restless with her interrogation, perhaps he was questioning whether she was right or not about Loki's identity. When his brother moved just slightly to intervene, Anders grabbed his arm pulling him behind his back. The dragon's eyes darted toward them calculating the odds. Anders shook his head praying that she got the message.

"My patience had run out. Open your mouth."

Colin fought to break free, but dragons are naturally strong. With one hand on his hair pulling his head backward and another on his jaw, she made him open his mouth. The light on her chest and throat gleamed stronger, she put her mouth on top of his and the fire entered his body illuminating it from the inside. As she pulled away, the audience stood dumbfounded as Colin had just swallowed the fire with no consequence.

"God of fire," Anders mumbled.

"A dragon. Of course. I should've known that my dear father would send a bloody dragon to catch me. What now, deathly monster?"

"The stone," before he could tell something, she inserted her claws into his stomach making him whine in pain. "Only the truth."

"The mortal's inside."

"Oi, hot stuff, you there?" She looked at the ceiling. "Hum… That's going to let a big hole in this place." She tilted her head, "Okay, that sounds better. You, up, Odin's going to grab you."

Dragging him by the nape, she pulled Colin outside followed by the Johnsons. A strong white light illuminated them and suddenly the dragon and Loki were gone, in their place was a red stone that burst open with a magical light; a very human, very mortal, and very naked Colin Gunderson stood in front of them complaining.

*

The Hoard Publishing was still active, therefore Anders drove there after three showers and a long speech in front of the mirror full of truths and honesty knowing that his breath would smell better then. Uninvited and unwanted, he strode inside her office where she was correcting a manuscript, just like the time he slept with her.

"I miss you."

She frowned. Her head tilted to the side and her nose twisted just slightly; his smell must've surprised her because she blinked fast after a sniff in his direction.

"I've wanted you for a long time, but I didn't think you would want me. When I finally gathered the courage… Fuck, you were supposed to be mortal. If I knew you were going to remember me… I… I didn't look for you after becoming mortal because I thought you deserved better than me."

"And don't I now?"

"No. Yes! I mean… Yes, you still deserve better, so much better than me, yet I reckon I'm a better option than Bragi, you know? That dude's married. And– And although I'm a mortal now I know that you're a dragon so you won't have to hide it from me. I'll be completely yours… If you want. If you– If you'd have me."

Damned his voice and how it died with uncertainty at the end of his speech. Nonetheless, he stood there, unable to tear his eyes from her, praying to the gods that he could have this, just this one thing. Ty had Dawn and the mortal life that he so much craved when he was Mr. Freezer. Mike had a big bank account and Hanna with him. Axl had gotten back with Gaia and Zeb was still his best friend. Anders had nothing but loneliness.

She giggled softly pushing herself away from the desk. With a relaxed demeanor, the dragon approached him, a predatory smile sketched on her face. Anders remained still, waiting. Her hands hovered over his arms and shoulders, his skin breaking into goosebumps as his breath became fast and needed.

"Bragi warned me about your insecurities, but I still had faith in your rampant avidity. I knew that you wanted me and that, sooner or later, you'll come back to me."

"You don't like Bragi better then?" He whispered almost voiceless.

"That posh bastard? Not even as a meal."

"Good. That's good."

Her lips ghosted around his yet Anders did not break the distance, waiting patiently for her. He was the prey, in the end, he had to act like one.

"You smell very tempting today, Anders. Did you make an effort for me?"

"Yes."

To his truth, she moaned. "That's good."

Before he could rejoice in the praise, her lips captured Anders', and he resourced to full-on melt with it.

The End

[senseiwu]

BRIIIIIIIIII can u tell me about wu. headcanons. favorite pictures. ships. random facts. your own AUs. ANYTHING. LAV U <3

I'm sorry I answered this a little late, I was hoping to type up a nice coherent answer on my computer, but,, you said anything so,, mind I ramble? 👉👈🥺 I love this silly old man

Sorry if it's a little incoherent

Headcanons. Okay, so. He has golden eyes. He's associated with yellow and gold a lot, because of creation, but he prefers another colour. Not sure what.

Man's super short. Like, 150cm. Here is him next to Ray and Maya.

He's very fit, but not super toned and muscular. However much you'd need to be doing what he does.

More headcanons... like his dad and brother, he can purr, and is more flexible than most people. (Cause, yknow. The old fandom thing of dragon + oni= cat), and they also all have soft, floofy hair (an Oni trait). Because the dragon side is more dominant in him, he's relatively cold-blooded, and more susceptible to the cold than most people. (Makes having an extra warm best friend/boyfriend even better 🤭)

A more serious headcanon, he was relatively closed off after his father died. He was always more of an introvert, but Iza dying made the realisation hit him, that he's going to outlive people. He didn't really have many friends, until Ray basically decided this dude needed a friend. Ray got him to move past this fear, to live enjoying the now, rather than fearing the possibilities of the future. I think I worded that right. Anyway, they've been super close ever since. Unless it's an AU with Goldsmith, the only other person he's even remotely that close to is Misako.

There's only one more HC I can think of at the moment, and that's that he enjoys creative things, like art and stuff. His element probably plays a bit into that. He used to really like to paint, but doesn't do it much anymore. (There was a book that said Misako liked to paint... maybe they'd paint together and chat and have tea,,,)

Favourite pictures,, ough,, these are probably some of my favourites :)

Ships... I have quite a few for him hfhdjdje

There's the obvious ones, like Wusako, Spark, Goldsmith (AND. COMBINING THOSE. idk what their name would be, but,, maya/misako/ray/wu,,,), Waith (I think I've also seen it called Hopeshipping, which just makes me 🥺🥺🥺🥺), Wu/Libber, which one of my friends dubbed "CreativeShock". I'm sure that there's probably some more I might have forgotten.

I may have accidentally given him kids for three of those ships- Accidentally, because they all just popped into my head and refused to leave

I don't know if I have any random facts at the moment... apparently his favourite tea is white tea. Which I believe is the least processed type of tea. I think that might’ve been said in Wu's Teas, though, so take it was a grain of salt. (Or, since we're talking about tea.... a grain of sugar? :D)

I have,,, so many AUs focusing on him.... theres

Glacier dads au. Where Cole and Zane take baby Wu during S0G and go into hiding and just. Become his dads. It's very soft and sweet, most of the time.

Mermaid AU. Wu is a mermaid, as well as his family. He befriends, and TOTALLY doesn't fall for two humans (Ray and Maya). (But it turns out, Maya actually has mermaid ancestry, and eventually, can change forms between human and mermaid (she's an octopus mermaid, I can't remember the proper name at the moment.))

There's also a future part of that AU, where they're adults and have three kids and a house that's partially underwater. The kids can all change forms at will too. Nya is a regular mermaid, and Kai and Lar are octopi like their mama)

Band AU. Wus in an up and coming rock band with Ray, Maya, Lilly and Libber. They're called "Elements of Creation" or something, but I don't think they actually have powers fhdjsjm. This AU also has Goldsmith. They also have a little tuxedo cat whose name I forgot that Maya found and they rescued as a kitten.

Ice skater AU. Wu and Ray are together, and are figure skaters. However, duo competitions tend to be between male and female duos, so they search for another couple to have some partners for completions. Enter Maya and Misako. Begin them all falling in love 🤭

Family AU. An AU that goes along with the timeline of the show, the biggest difference being that Maya, Ray and Wu are all married. Kai and Nya live with Wu in the monastery after Ray ans Maya get taken away. Before being taken away, though, Maya had found out that she was pregnant again. She didn't get to tell her husbands before Krux took her and Ray while Wu was away, though :(

HAPPY Family AU. An alternate version of Family AU that branches off at around the time of Garmadon's banishment. He doesn't get banished, Ray and Maya don't get taken, and as little angst as possible happens. Lar gets to grow up with his siblings, who get to grow up with all three of their parents. Zane and Morro also get adopted. The kids get to spend lots of time with their cousin Lloyd. Oh, Ray's mother is also still alive, so the kids have their grandma! They call her Nanny :) that's what we called my paternal grandma, and. I think autumn deserves that honour :)

Alternate Timeline AU. Garmadon doesn't sign Wu's letter, and this event prompts him to leave Chen. Wu and Misako adopt Morro, and get married. Jun is in this AU :)

That's all the recent ones I can think of off the top of my head. There's also the LCA AU, Canon Divergent AU and Fantasy AU, but I haven't really touched those in years. OH and the Superhero AU. I'd like to get back to some of those but. Idk they kinda make me cringe since they're from like. Four years ago.

OH he's also heavily involved in Single Mamasako AU. He helps Misako with Lloyd whenever he can, even when he starts training the ninja. ....there's also an alternate version of that AU where he and Misako get together,, and I have also been thinking of a kinda AU that goes along with the show, where they become a thing .... around after s10? Idk I only thought of it the other day because. I love them. Wusako is cute and I'm tired of pretending it's not.

...okay I think. I've rambled enough dhdjsje sorry. I just. I love Wu and he occupies my thoughts constantly.

Love you too friend 💖💖

I only have one wu hug gif 💔

[jackdawandicarus]

My character naming process

My friend @robinsinthesummer did a post like this so now I’m doing one too. Also I’m probably going to put more effort into this than is really necessary but idc.

The first method is just giving them a name that randomly spawns in my brain and fucking haunts my thoughts until a name a character it or create a new character solely to name something that name. The current name haunting my brain is Sidney fwi. I have an OC named it but I don’t really like said character, they are too un-queer. Sidney is a name for the gays. A name-ghost I actually went through with naming the character is Michael for my main project’s protag’s father and Sandy for this little cryptic hunter character I have. Honestly might give her a sister just to name said sister Sidney lol. Or a friend or something. Maybe-

If there’s another character with a name too similar to the current name-ghost (e.g. my *other* potential Sidney, who is very queer, is a main character for my book in which there is already a main character named Kit, I found the start of the names too similar to use Sidney for the character, Sydney might’ve worked but I hate that spelling), I begin an actual active naming process. I think of names with similar sounds and vibes (to continue with my example, Macey or Darcy which have the ending sound which I want for the character), using Behind the Name to assist if necessary. Usually I’ll have around 3 names on the list.

I’ll try to to think about themes, personality, arc, etc. with some more important characters. My protagonist in one of my current projects is named Ophelia. While Ophelia was a name-ghost, I gave it to the character I did because I thought that the meaning of ‘help’ fit for the character (also something something Hamlet something something idk I don’t know shit about Hamlet, I just know Ophelia goes mad and kills herself, which actually fits my Ophelia tbh) because she begins the story very passive, she very much views herself as a supporting character. It also fits as a silent cry for help hidden within her name, she is unable to reach out for help, and attempts to repress her negative emotions. Pretty sure Hamlet also had something to do with it at the time but I’ve genuinely forgotten.

Her sister Casandra’s name was chosen in a similar fashion. Only I know for sure that I named her after the Greek mythological figure of Cassandra. I dropped an S because I like the way it looks like that. Casandra has Schizotypal Personality Disorder, which is a pretty recent addition to her character but I think makes sense with my pre-existing characterisation of her as having ‘magical thinking’, to quote Wikipedia’s page on STPD lol. Cassandra in Greek mythology is obviously most known for being cursed to see the future and have no one believe her (though she’s a personal interest of mine and I could probably tell you everything about her if you asked me to), which is how Casandra perceives herself. I’m still working on figuring out how I’m going to adapt her character now I’ve decided to give her STPD.

There’s also a little (read- pathetic) guy I named Pigeon. They’re my most recent character because I’m tired of not writing about anthropomorphic cats, I’m a Warriors fan goddamn it it is in my blood. Pigeon is named after a bird species which absolutely no one will be able to guess from his name! He’s named after the bird because said bird has this whole tragic ‘used to be a valued pet and working animal and then we abandoned them and call them sky-rats’ thing going on which fits their character arc.

Sometimes I’ll just go to Behind the Name and look through it to find a suitable name though lol. After naming Ophelia and Casandra I needed to name their triplet brother. I literally just looked through the masculine Ancient Greek list on Behind the Name until I found Zopyrus at the very bottom and thought it worked well enough. He dies half way through anyway.

Sometimes I’ll name a character after a real life person I went to Primary school with or something. This is most common with my Sims, though, tbh. I named a character Jessica, but I think that’s literally it for OCs so far

And thus ends my overly long post!

[eevvvaa]

Aaaah let’s have some Soldier Boy, shall we ? 🙂

He tried to bite me this morning and then called me a fucking pussy.

Yeah… Of course he called him that, ahah

But I already feel bad for him and refusing to eat :/

 “Get me the Happy Hero Meal, alright?”

The fact that everything is superhero related, even in the food and products is so accurate ! I know that it is like this on the show and evident because they are the stars of this universe and every products are about them because they kinda are the product, but they pushed the idea so much, I love it

Maybe she can get the fallen supe to come out with the right incentive.

I don’t know why but I love that description/name for him 🥺

she’s one of the only patients who’s allowed to leave the facility whenever she wants

But whyyyy is she allowed ?!

Her knuckles softly tap the white door of Room 11

I love it. I love that you gave him Dean’s room number !

the toes of two socked feet and knows he’s leaning directly against the door, sitting on the cold linoleum.

He already makes me feel bad for him, sitting on the floor, not even laying on the “comfortable” bed… I feel bad for him for being forced to be in this supe rehab place, especially when it wasn’t his desire at all

At least she’s trying to be nice to him and I like that :)

Well, I wanna eat a burger, now ! 🤤🍔

An amused snort can be heard through the thick door, and Y/N’s lips draw a triumphant smile.

Hehe, of course he reacted to that 🙄😂

 He seems wary of her, but granted, so does she, neither of them sure if they can trust one another. Two lone wolves meeting in the wild.

Well, that’s gonna be a fun ride 😂

He observes it reluctantly as if she might’ve poisoned it. God, that guy is paranoid.

After everything he went through ? Yeah, I think he has the right to be !

“Are you gonna talk as much as you have?”

Alright, Grumpy, I won’t if it bothers you so much ! 🙄

I mean, look at those muscles on your arms… Like, wow.

Ahah, same here, girl, same here…

his cheeks blushing the faintest color of red underneath the unkempt beard.

Moooooh, he’s blushing ?! 🤗

 He’s not allowed to have sheets and pillows yet, problematic newbies usually being a suicide risk

Oh… great…

Frankly, he seems quite lonely and in need of some company but still acts too proud to actively seek it. She was the same when she first came here, too – touch-starved, abandoned, and forgotten.

I would be his company 🥰 Also, it breaks my heart that they're similar on this

She can have her phone with her ? I don’t know why but I imagined this place free or every connection from the outside world. Or has she a special treatment since she can also go out and all ? Also, Ben being confused about what she’s doing is something I really love 😂

He wants her to stay ! He wants/needs company and it makes me feel so sad for him… He’s so lonely and lost, he deserves a hug. (It’s chapter one and I already want to hug him, I’m scared of this series 😶)

 he behaves like a shy toddler on their first day of kindergarten.

And I wanna go and take his hand, great !

That’s when Y/N decides to lift her head from her book and acts her surprise. “Oh, hey, Soldier Boy… You’ve made it,” 

And the Oscar goes toooooo…! 😂

Maybe she should fall to her knees and kiss the ground he walks on?

Don’t do that. He would probably enjoy it 🙄

While he might be a racist, sexist asshole and a vicious, coldhearted killer, he admittedly is pleasing to look at.

Yeah… but he’s pretty, we can forgive him 🙂😂

Only time will tell what really lies beneath the hardened shell now that the suit and superpowers are gone.

And I can’t wait to find out !

Oh come on, he’s already looking at her like she is his next meal ? Ben ! Keep it in your pants a little !

Three years. It’s 2025. 

No. I know it’s not the point but no. It’s not 2025 in freaking 3 years. 2 actually 😦

Also, I’m angry at the CIA too for not even briefing him or even for keeping him more years in that box 

“Try fucking never,” he scoffs his repulsion for mental health.

Woooh ! Yeah, let’s not talk about your PTSD and your problematic self ! 🥳

But hey, there’s still glue and glitter.”

😂😂 Just imagining this big guy’s fingers covered in glitter, scratching his eyebrow and putting some more on his face, makes me laugh and want to see this !

“Kinda the essence of my statement, yes.”

oh oooh !! 😂😂 They’re gonna have some pleasant, calm, nice and respectful discussions together 😂

“You know, you should be grateful someone like me is even talking to someone as pathetic as you at all. No man would wanna fuck you anyway, princess. You ain’t that fucking pretty.”

See ? Nice and respectful 🥰

Oh daaaaaaamn ! She’s not gonna let him get away with his crap, at all! She’s not gonna be all nice and won’t take him with a pinch of salt and I wonder if he’s gonna come back to talk to her because she’s actually being up front with him or if he’s gonna hate that, her, and just try to hurt her as much as he can so she doesn’t talk to him anymore. I’m just curious about how it’s gonna go for those two 🙃

Oh yes, he’s been a supe longer than he’s been a normal guy and they just took it from him. And even though he chose this life and those powers, he didn’t do it for the right reasons either… Also, I like that she goes back to him, no matter what she’s about to do, that she’s willing to have another contact with him after their fight (?). And I like that everyone of them did horrible things, including her and that he’s just facing who he is, what he’s been and that she understand that, that she has her own past and wrongs

Orange pill bottle. Pair of scissors. Pool of blood. Maybe he’s gone before she even counts to ten.

*GASP* ! Noooooo !! I know he’s not dead but, he’s human now ! And just the fact that he did this ?! No !! 😦🫣🥺

Well, this chapter announces a happy and nice little series !

Rehab – Chapter 1

Series Summary: Thanks to Soldier Boy, the CIA was able to develop Project Bloom under the fierce leadership of Grace Mallory: a final cure to Compound V and a hopeful end to the supe epidemic three years after the explosive incident at Vought. A secret rehab facility in Upstate New York is supposed to help former heroes find their way back to humanity. The catch, though? Soldier Boy has never fucking agreed to any of this shit and is surely not happy about being powerless for the first time in his goddamn long life.

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female!Reader

Warnings: +18, language, angst, homophobic slurs & misogyny à la SB, hints of depression, tw: suicide attempt (not too graphic but pretty obvious)

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: What starts off fun turns dark quickly…

Feedback is my fuel 🖤

<< Prologue || Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist

Chapter 1: maybe

“Hey, Derek.” Y/N smiles at one of the nurses as she approaches the reception and leans her elbows on the counter. “How’s the newbie doing?”

It’s been three days since Soldier Boy arrived at the pristine Upstate rehab facility, established by the CIA as Project Bloom and fully funded by the American government to counteract the “superhuman epidemic,” as they call it. Y/N, however, hasn’t seen him since then, the glorified superhero still voluntarily locking himself in his room.

“God, what a prick,” Derek huffs in annoyance and rolls his eyes. “He tried to bite me this morning and then called me a fucking pussy. He’s still not coming out of his room and refusing to eat. Apparently, he thinks going on a hunger strike will get him out of here sooner. I’m inclined to just let him rot in there and die.”

“Well, can you blame him? The food in here sucks,” Y/N jokes lightheartedly.

“Hey, you love the chef’s chocolate chip pancakes,” Derek counters, chuckling.

Y/N laughs, nodding. “Yeah, but it’s not Wednesday yet, is it? Mind if I take a shot?”

“Knock yourself out, girl,” Derek agrees to her proposal. “I need a break from this asshole, anyways.”

“Cool.” Y/N grins mischievously and wiggles her eyebrows. “Can I borrow your car?”

“Fine.” With a deep sigh, Derek fishes out the keys to his Prius from his uniform and throws them at her. “Get me the Happy Hero Meal, alright?”

“Duh.” Y/N winks with a smile, knowing his usual order by heart, and uses her chipped ID card to unlock the rehabilitation center’s doors before heading out.

Maybe she can get the fallen supe to come out with the right incentive.

Taking a deep breath, the sterile air of the clinic fills her lungs. She already misses the smell of fresh rain on green grass and fallen orange leaves outside and the peaceful pitter-patter of small streams that wind themselves through the Catskills. Upstate New York is always the most beautiful in fall, and Y/N considers herself blessed that she’s one of the only patients who’s allowed to leave the facility whenever she wants and is lucky enough to enjoy the outside world for a little while.

Her knuckles softly tap the white door of Room 11, her eyes looking inside the small glass window to see if her new sponsee is anywhere to be found. The bed is empty, as is the rest of the space, but when she hoists herself up on her tiptoes and peers down a bit more, she spies the toes of two socked feet and knows he’s leaning directly against the door, sitting on the cold linoleum.

“Soldier Boy?” Y/N checks carefully, foregoing the use of his real name. Some newcomers don’t like that and want to hold onto their former identity for as long as possible. The greatest superhero on Earth certainly seems to fit that category. “Hey, uh, look, I’m not a nurse or a doctor. I’m a patient here like you, okay? You know, I heard you weren’t eating, and honestly? I can’t blame you. The food in here fucking sucks ass. Chef Matt is an awful cook. His chocolate chip pancakes are pretty decent, though,” she chuckles, hoping to lighten the mood, although there’s still no sound coming from behind the door. “But, uhm, I pulled a few strings and got you something from Vought-a-Burger?”

There’s still no answer coming, so Y/N starts to rustle with the brown paper bag, opening it up enough for the smell of greasy fast food to flow out and find its way to his nose through the thin crack between the door and the floor. She then pulls out a cheeseburger, unwraps it, and takes a big bite from it.

“God, this is good,” she moans loudly, mouth half-full. It’s not even a lie. “You know, sometimes I think a good cheeseburger is better than climaxing. I mean, this feels pretty orgasmic.”

An amused snort can be heard through the thick door, and Y/N’s lips draw a triumphant smile. She’s got him – hook, line, and fucking sinker.

“I’m Y/N, by the way,” she introduces herself, hoping it breaks the ice a little more. “I-, uh, I’ll leave the bag in front of your door, so you can just grab it when I’ve left and lock yourself back in again, alright?”

As Y/N ducks down to place the brown paper bag on the ground, the door abruptly opens a crack and a head peeks through it. She looks up, and their eyes meet. He seems wary of her, but granted, so does she, neither of them sure if they can trust one another. Two lone wolves meeting in the wild.

“Oh, uhm,” she splutters, not expecting he’d actually dare to show himself so soon.

“Are you eating my fucking burger?”

Y/N giggles and straightens on her feet, the top of her bun barely reaching his broad chest as he towers in front of her like the goddamn Rockies. “No, uh, that’s mine, buddy. But there’s four more in there for you,” she says and holds the bag out for him. He observes it reluctantly as if she might’ve poisoned it. God, that guy is paranoid.

“Fries?”

“Duh, of course. I’m not a monster,” Y/N sasses and adds with a smile, “Even got you a chocolate milkshake, so you can dunk.” She then watches him gruffly nod his approval before accepting the bag. “Mind if I come in and join you for a while?”

“Are you gonna talk as much as you have?”

“Oh, I don’t have to talk at all unless you want me to.” She shrugs innocently and casually stuffs a fry into her mouth. “‘Sides, what are you so scared of, big guy? Don’t tell me you’re terrified of a small girl like me. Powers or not, you could probably still crush me with one hand, right? I mean, look at those muscles on your arms… Like, wow.”

Soldier Boy pensively smacks his lips and clicks his tongue, his cheeks blushing the faintest color of red underneath the unkempt beard. “Alright, get in,” he grunts and holds the door open wider for her, glancing down the hallway before quickly closing it behind her again once she has slipped inside. “No fucking chit-chat, though.”

“Fine by me,” Y/N snorts her amusement and raises both palms in surrender. She drops down on the bed with a blissful sigh and makes herself as comfortable as possible, crossing her legs on the bare mattress. He’s not allowed to have sheets and pillows yet, problematic newbies usually being a suicide risk, and just by looking at him, she can tell he definitely seems somewhat depressed over his current circumstance. Who could blame him, though?

Wordlessly, Soldier Boy eventually settles back on the ground, leaning his back against the bed frame directly underneath her spot this time. A gesture that she finds quite odd. A lot of things are strange about him, in fact. Usually, it takes a while before new arrivals start to trust people here, and it isn’t abnormal that they keep their distance. Frankly, he seems quite lonely and in need of some company but still acts too proud to actively seek it. She was the same when she first came here, too – touch-starved, abandoned, and forgotten.

Y/N then spends the rest of her stay quietly eating her burger and playing Candy Crush on her phone, ignoring his curious glances from time to time as best as she can. She knows he doesn’t want her to know that he’s staring, so she lets him believe that she doesn’t. When twilight filters in through the window and dips the silent room midnight blue, she stretches her tired limbs with a big yawn and rises from the bed, sauntering back to the door.

“Where are you going?”

His deep, husky voice startles her, causing her to halt in her fluffy slippers. She hasn’t expected him to speak or even mind if she left. After all, he hasn’t spoken a word to her for over two hours. “Uhm, just going back to my room. Why?”

His Adam’s apple bobs with a thick swallow as his left shoulder twitches upward. “Figured we could hang out more.”

“Nah, sorry. My show’s about to start,” Y/N purposely rejects his offer, although it’s truthfully just a rewatch of X-Files she’s ditching him for. To reel him in, she sends him a sweet as pie smile. “Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow at breakfast, though. You should come. It’s Wednesday, which means pancakes.”

With chapped lips curled into a pout, there’s a slight nod of his head in acknowledgment before she leaves his room and closes the door behind her, smiling to herself. She’s got him exactly where she wants him.

Maybe he’ll show.

The next morning, Y/N sits in the cafeteria in her usual spot by the wall-to-ceiling, sun-flooded window, the clinic’s park outside in full golden bloom, maple trees painted yellow, orange, and red. As she’s poking away at her pancakes, her current choice of literature is propped open next to her plate, although she’s barely concentrating on the words on the page, her eyes curiously darting to the corridor that leads to the bedrooms every couple of seconds.

Will he show up?

And then, an hour before breakfast is officially over, Y/N finally spies him stalking down the hall, insecure juniper eyes warily observing his new surroundings like an antelope carefully stalking through the savannah, watchful of hungry lions hidden in the tall grass.

She fully focuses on her book and food then, observing him inconspicuously from her periphery and trying not to smile as he behaves like a shy toddler on their first day of kindergarten. Pausing for a minute by the cafeteria doorway, he then straightens his sturdy shoulders and, with a brave swallow, grabs a teal tray, marching over to the counter with feigned confidence.

Good boy, Y/N thinks and chuckles inwardly. She’s happy there’s still a bit of a soldier left in him, albeit he’s never truly been much of one, to begin with.

Soon enough, a tall and wide shadow casts over her table and steals her sunshine like an approaching thundercloud, and while he clearly expects her to look up and notice him, she pretends that she doesn’t until he simply takes a seat across from her and obnoxiously clears his throat in an attempt to catch her attention.

That’s when Y/N decides to lift her head from her book and acts her surprise. “Oh, hey, Soldier Boy… You’ve made it,” she says, smiling, and then instantly turns back to her book, hearing him grumble some muffled swears under his breath.

“I’m Ben,” he states with a forced smile, surely expecting a welcoming parade among words of flattery and sheer admiration. Maybe she should fall to her knees and kiss the ground he walks on?

“I know,” Y/N replies with indifference, pretending the book is still more interesting than the company across from her.

Giving up for the moment, Ben then starts to take bites of his pancakes, Y/N feeling his emerald eyes constantly fixed on her, and yet, she still ignores him as best as she can. It’s honestly not as easy as it sounds. While he might be a racist, sexist asshole and a vicious, coldhearted killer, he admittedly is pleasing to look at. No wonder the guy used to be a major womanizer back in the day. The sparkling forest green eyes, the golden freckles on his tanned skin, the muscles that clad his body, the light brown locks that fall into his face, and the bearded, well-defined jaw would surely make a lot of women’s knees weak.

It’s a shame his personality sucks, but Y/N also knows that Compound V, and Vought especially, have a habit of causing people to forget their own humanity, turning them into divine beasts instead. And if anything, Soldier Boy was the very first lab rat, after all – kind of like her. Only time will tell what really lies beneath the hardened shell now that the suit and superpowers are gone.

“You were right, doll. The pancakes are decent enough,” Ben mentions, clearing his throat once more, and Y/N wonders how many times he’ll actually try to earn her heed.

“Told you.”

“What do they serve tomorrow?”

“Well, I hope you like runny scrambled eggs that share the consistency of fucking diarrhea,” Y/N snorts a giggle, hearing him laugh softly, too.

“I don’t,” Ben chuckles and licks his plush lips, his stare intensifying. “But you said you pulled some strings to get me burgers, right? Think you can do that again?”

Y/N briefly glances up from her literature to lift an amused eyebrow. “We’ll see,” she shrugs, the mischief gleaming in her eyes and smile, “Depends on how many favors you wanna owe me.”

Pursing his plump lips, his head bobs as he suppresses a laugh. “You’re spunky. I like that. I’m sure we could come to some sort of a… deal, doll,” Ben notes, the baritone voice laced with a hint of flirtation as his mossy green eyes show a newfound hunger – but certainly not for the food on his plate.

“You wish,” Y/N laughs and is even a little surprised to see her rejection doesn’t bother him all that much.

“Alright, your loss,” he relents and swallows lightly, wiping his palms on his thighs under the table. “So, uh, can you just tell me something?”

“Uhm, sure, I guess so.” She nods encouragingly, noticing his change in demeanor, sadness and fear suddenly festering in his orbs.

“How long was I-…” Ben stops, swallows thicker this time, and then tries again, “What-, uhm, what year is it? How long did they put me in that fucking box again?”

Y/N stumps, not expecting that sort of question, and a bit of anger bubbles up inside her chest. She figured the CIA had at least briefed him before throwing him in here. “Oh, uh… not that long,” she shares, sending him a reassuring smile, “Three years. It’s 2025. You haven’t missed that much, except for a few bad movies and even more awful reality TV shows.”

Fucking Mallory… Not telling him after what he’s already been through in Russia just seems downright cruel.

“And apparently, a cure for Compound V,” the infamous hero adds with a joking huff. “So, uhm, what do people do around here all day for some fucking fun?” he inquires and then mutters bitterly, “Except for not trying to fucking hang themselves…”

Y/N chortles at his obvious abhorrence for the clinic. “Well, most patients here go to therapy, group or single,” she informs him. “But I already know you’re not ready for that yet.”

“Try fucking never,” he scoffs his repulsion for mental health.

“Otherwise, there’s, uh, board games, a library, movies and TV shows in the common room… Couple of months ago, we even got a VoughtPlay 5 and some cool video games. There’s also a gym, which you’re not allowed in yet, by the way. And well, there’s even a spa with a pool and an arts and crafts room,” she tells him patiently without looking up from her book, aware neither of those things will pique his interest in the slightest. “I doubt they’ll give you access to scissors right now, though. But hey, there’s still glue and glitter.”

“You’re joking, right?”

“Nope.”

“Why doesn’t that fucking bitch just fucking kill me,” he murmurs under his breath and stabs his pancake with his fork, his jaw locking tight with resentment.

“Who? Grace Mallory?” Y/N checks and finally meets his gaze, having noticed some tension between them when they dropped him off, although she’s not sure if he isn’t just simply blaming the CIA agent for his current status. “No love lost between you two, huh?”

Soldier Boy scoffs darkly, “Yeah, you could say that. That dyke’s still bitter I turned her down for a fuck in the 80s.”

Y/N purses her lips, now wishing he hadn’t opened his mouth at all. “Yeah, uh-huh, why don’t I quite believe you…”

His brow forms angry v-shaped creases at her response, his knuckles turning white around the cutlery in his large fist. “Are you calling me a fucking liar?”

“Kinda the essence of my statement, yes.”

His upper lip twitches in offense, averting his glare to the view outside the clear window. “You’re fucking one of them, aren’t you?”

“Who? A lesbian?” Y/N arches an eyebrow and laughs. “Yo gramps, just because a woman doesn’t wanna ride your wrinkly dick doesn’t make her gay. It just makes her smart.”

“You fucking stupid cunt,” he snaps, nostrils flaring as he brews up a storm in his chest and shows her the monster that slumbers within. She knew it was just a matter of time till it reared its ugly head. “You know, you should be grateful someone like me is even talking to someone as pathetic as you at all. No man would wanna fuck you anyway, princess. You ain’t that fucking pretty.”

“Ouch… Oh no, please don’t hurt my feelings,” Y/N mocks with a sarcastic pout, laughing, and grabs her empty tray, rising from her chair. “I can already see you’re gonna make a lot of friends here. Man, I bet the people in your life always hated you… Guess what? There’s a reason for that. No wonder your own ex and your so-called team sold you out to the fucking Russians,” she huffs harshly, turning to leave. “Now, excuse me. I don’t wanna be late for my backgammon date. Unlike you, people actually like me and are not just pretending to outta fear. Which, by the way, you don’t have that leverage anymore either, so truly good luck. Have fun being alone for the rest of your miserable life, you fucking wimp.”

Maybe he’s just a fucking asshole, a hopeless basket case, after all.

It’s late at night, the full moon standing high and beaming in through her bedroom window when Y/N reaches the last few pages of Virginia Woolf’s To The Lighthouse. Her mind, however, constantly wanders back to Soldier Boy. She knows she overstepped and crossed a line, getting unnecessarily angry with him. She should’ve resisted the urge to stoop to his level. After all, what kind of person does that make her? Who would start an argument with a 106-year-old grandpa? Of course, his views would be bigoted and outdated. It’s like picking a fight with a grave, just screaming meaningless words at a cold headstone.

‘No, she thought, one could say nothing to nobody. The urgency of the moment always missed its mark. Words fluttered sideways and struck the object inches too low.’ – Virginia Woolf.

There’s a reason patience is considered a virtue, and unfortunately, Y/N has always possessed very little of it since she was a child. Blame it on the years of abuse and mistrust she’s suffered. Her defense mechanism is probably as strong as the former hero’s, her heart guarded by razor-sharp barbed wire. She knows all too well that change takes time, and Ben is admittedly experiencing a lot of that right now and really going through it.

For how long has he been a supe? An adored celebrity? An icon? How long has he relied on his powers, his strength, his stamina, and the fact that no one and nothing could hurt him? God, it’s been probably more than 80 years at this point, and while Y/N once had powers of her own, she can barely imagine what that must feel like – to lose something you’ve had and loved for decades and then be reduced to nothing and no one. She never wanted her own abilities to begin with, but Ben did. He chose that life willingly, just like she chose to have a life without.

Moreover, no one in this facility here is innocent. They’re all assholes, addicts, thieves, rapists, and murderers. They’ve all done things they shouldn’t have, made unforgivable mistakes, crossed too many lines, or lived recklessly without regard for others. That’s why they ended up here in the first place. They’re all guilty of something. Every single one of them, including her.

Sighing deeply, Y/N gets off the bed and slips her bare feet into her fluffy slippers. Maybe she should’ve listened to Mallory when that woman told her she’d have her work cut out for herself with this moronic bastard. Maybe she shouldn’t care this much. Maybe she should be the bigger person and take the high road. Maybe he’s wrong and old, but that doesn’t make her right, either. Maybe she should apologize, albeit she doesn’t really mean it.

One minute, two seconds, and three knocks later, she’s waiting for an answer by his door. She takes four deep breaths; it’s still silent. She tries five more times before pulling out her phone, turning the flashlight on, and shining it through the small glass cut-out for six anxious heartbeats.

Orange pill bottle. Pair of scissors. Pool of blood. Maybe he’s gone before she even counts to ten.

Chapter 2: papercuts – Mon, April 17

Welp, see ya! Happy Easter, folks ✌️🐰 *sneaks off to safehouse*

Tag Lists:

Everything J (Prologue & Chapter 1 only): @extraterrestriali @this-is-me19 @writercole @awkward-and-indecisive @eevvvaa @panicking-outside-the-disco @globetrotter28 @imherefordeanandbones @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior @xlynnbbyx @jassackles @maggiegirl17 @perpetualabsurdity @deans-spinster-witch @deandreamernp @foxyjwls007 @roseblue373 @lyarr24 @deanwanddamons @deanwithscissors @mrsjenniferwinchester @justrealizedimmascifygurl @akshi8278 @flamencodiva @chriszgirl92 @wittyboldsoul @djs8891 @leigh70 @snowlovespie @b3autyfuldisast3r @ladysparkles78 @muhahaha303 @mimaria420 @creepzeyecandy @iamsapphine

Rehab Series: @eevvvaa @deans-spinster-witch @iamsapphine @jessjad @suckitands33 @ladysparkles78 @spalady26 @zepskies @syrma-sensei @muchamusedaboutnothing @deansbbyx @stoneyggirl2 @zannemes @foxyjwls007​

Note: Wanna be on the series tag and don’t see yourself yet? Lemme know! Everything J won’t be tagged anymore after Chapter 1.

[creepsh]

eram quod es, eris quod sum.

paring. siren!hawks x fem!reader

c/w. dark content, noncon, brainwashing, drugging, oral sex (f!receiving), loss of virginity, (1) mention of breeding, hawks is a conniving bastard, reader is a cranky know-it-all, some mentions of blood, a crumb of lore was stolen from supernatural

a/n. half of my reason for writing this was for @bibbidi-bobbidi-birb. you are so ridiculously talented at writing and characterizing this man; i drew a lot of inspiration from your seven deadly sins series, although i don't write as eloquently as you do so i pray it doesn't melt your eyeballs lmfao. the other half of this is dedicated to @hhawks owtw collab & to all of the amazing writers on this platform. hope y'all enjoy ♥

w/c. 21k

playlist. 1, 2, 3, 4

“The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown.”

– H.P. Lovecraft

ㅤ

Throughout your childhood, your grandmother would often tell you to be extremely cautious of the choices you make. Because for every action, there is always a consequence to follow. It is the very law of existence, she would whisper to you with fierce, unblinking austerity. It is the order of the universe – the grand design of “fate” itself.

Fate… such an arbitrary word, you used to think.

Despite loving her dearly, you also used to think your grandmother was just a cynical old woman, far too wary of forces that were beyond the grasp of mortals, and far too fearful of a world without her protection in it. Despite how… stifling she could be, you did not relish in her passing; she had raised you, after all. You hadn’t even gotten the opportunity to know your parents, whom had "died at sea" before even your first birthday had come to pass. That was all she would ever divulge on the matter, so it wasn’t as if you could truly lament for their absence, having never known them at all. Not even their names.

Perhaps her general oddness and cynicism was for the best, though, since it shaped you into a person that could endure the loneliness that came with her eventual departure from your life. It saddened you – like any living, feeling human should have felt – but you couldn’t help but admit how… freeing it was. Endless opportunity was suddenly at your fingertips, freedom to do as you please an avenue that you could finally walk. Or perhaps even sail.

The ocean was an entirely uncharted corner of life for you, a forbidden dream tucked away on a high shelf that could have been only reached within your mind’s eye, only manifested from the pages of books that you might’ve read a hundred times over.

Opportunity; it tread a very fine line between promising and dangerous. That you were made well aware of – a courtesy of your Grandmother's upbringing, of course. But in theory of all the random knowledge you had amassed, ranging from pointless to useful, you wagered that you had a chance at realizing your goals. You were penniless, but with an opportunity to step outside of your thoughts, to actually live for real… who is to say that you couldn’t achieve whatever you set your aspiring mind to?

You weren’t callow enough to assume it would be a breeze to do, but you had thought that as long as you had your wits, there would never be a consequence of which to answer. If you played your cards right, a thing called fate wouldn’t catch wind of you.

…or so you had believed, as all ignorant adolescents do.

One lesson your evidently all-knowing grandmother had forgotten to grant you with was just how fast such consequences were to catching up with you, and especially how easily they could be overlooked. You've finally begun to realize that mere book smarts alone wouldn’t pull you out of the rabbit hole, nor would your childish delusions of grandeur carry you as half as far as you thought they would.

Consequences, you ruminate bitterly, whilst peering upon an infinite expanse of shimmering, undulating sea. They certainly do have a way of catching up to you, one way or the other. Of course, only now were you fully taking her warnings, which were beginning to appear as grim omens, to heart – when it was too late to do anything about it.

The sound of a seagull’s raspy, screeching cackle disrupts the lulling murmur of fluttering sails and waves crashing against the ship’s hull, and for a moment, you entertain the thought of it being her spirit hanging over you, vindictively sneering:

I told you so.

A sharp whistle, followed by the gruff call of a name you aren’t familiar with interrupts your somber reverie. Right, the consequences that she often spoke of – you were soon to meet them, very soon.

The acrid smell of sweat and tobacco hits you before the sound of heavy footfalls resounding against wood does; a hand so calloused and tanned it could be better resembled to an aged, leather glove than an actual living human limb falls upon your shoulder, steering you toward the port side of this boat – your self-inflicted prison – to the one who summoned for you. The one who will decide your fate, in what is sure to come in but a few more moments.

“There she is – our lovely little stowaway.” You find yourself to be relieved that those words appeared to be laced with derision, rather than desire. At the very least, you’d prefer to not be robbed of your chastity before you die... but beggars on the precipice of death can’t quite be choosers, now can they? “I believe destiny brought you to my ship for a reason, girl. Are you ready to face yours?”

Whatever that entails, you were clearly about to find out.

For a moment, you were only able to stare up at the veritable mountain of a man before you, at the glacial hue of eyes that seemed to be utterly absent of all warmth or mercy, before derisively muttering, “As I’ll ever be, I suppose.” It’s not as if you had much a choice otherwise, at this point.

If he found your sudden compliance to be odd he must have deemed it unnecessary to comment on, because he turned his back to you without further preamble, directing his frigid gaze to the distant landmass that stood as a green blemish on what was an otherwise pristine portrait of blue. To you, it looked like any other ordinary island. A tropical paradise, if anything.

But you strongly suspect he didn’t come all the way here, in the middle of nowhere, for a relaxing getaway.

“Somewhere on that island lies the greatest treasure the likes of any pirate or king has known for over several hundred years. Many have died in pursuit of it, and far less have lived to tell of what they saw beyond its shores – if they made it that far.”

Nervous shifting comes from the man behind you, whom is still holding your shoulder captive, as if you had literally anywhere else to run except overboard. You try your best not to grumble irritably at his clenched grip, listening as intently as one who was on the verge of receiving a broken collarbone could.

“It is said to be a place of unimaginable horrors – for men, that is.” Ah, you see what point he was trying to make, considering the obvious. Sure enough, the captain turns his head ever so slightly to side-eye your diminutive form, reluctantly awaiting his verdict. “Few boats could ever sail close enough without being run aground because of sirens – wicked she-devils, who exist solely to prey upon the hearts of men. No man can resist their influence, and that is why the prize within that cursed place has remained unclaimed to this day. This is where you, my dear,” he sneers over the term of endearment, “come into play.”

His gaze flicks somewhere behind you, an unspoken order, and it’s only about a second or two of shuffling before it is answered – a tattered, rolled up scrap of parchment is handed off to him from over your shoulder that isn’t currently being crushed into mincemeat. Against your better judgment, or perhaps due to a lack thereof, you open your mouth to speak.

“So… you’re sending me to discover this treasure on the possibility that they wouldn’t target a woman? Even if that were so, what about… I don’t know – male sirens?”

The captain scoffs at the suggestion as he impatiently unfurls the paper, as if the idea were more outlandish than what he had already told you just a second prior. “There is no such thing – males have never been reported to be seen, but if you are snatched up by one…” He briefly looks skyward to snort humorlessly, as if such a thought were a half-assed joke from the gods, “then I suppose that’ll answer that question, aye?”

You aren’t sure what else to say in your defense, but he doesn’t seem to care for any more of your inquires anyhow as he is suddenly gesturing for you to look at where he’s pointing on a faded, crudely drawn rendition of the island before you – something he must have kept in his possession for many, many years.

“See this spot, where a shipwreck lies between these large rock formations?”

Nodding slowly, your eyes follow the path his finger drags slightly upward, where the sea meets a flat, tall cliff face. He jabs the haphazardly shaded area beneath it, which you notice to be covering the subtle outline of a circle. Your nodding stops. “Below here will be a cave entrance that has become hidden under the tides this time of the year, just beneath sea level. That is where many believed the treasure to be, judging by the amount of sunken ships you can find there.”

Gulping, you offer the large man an apprehensive glance. “The cave is beneath… sea level? I’m, uh, not really the best swimmer.” An exaggeration, which you cannot really be blamed for given your situation, but you certainly weren’t confident in the length that you could hold your breath. The thought of you writhing amongst a cold, heavy darkness, your final emotions being one of utter terror as your lungs inevitably fill with saltwater invokes a shudder within you. Despite your fascination with the sea, drowning had been a recurring fear of yours for as far back as you could remember, as if the roots of this day burrowed themselves to the foundation of your existence, amongst other obvious reasons.

You couldn’t help but find it a bit funny, at least, how life seemed to have a rather cliché way of coming full circle. Fate was not quite as arbitrary as it seemed…

“Well—” You manage to withhold yourself from jolting in surprise when he abruptly yanks the map from your intense scrutiny, rolling it back up swiftly and neatly before presenting it to you once more, slightly from beyond your reach. “It’s either this, or we sell your pretty ass off at the nearest port. I reckon we’d get decent coin off you. So—” He lowers his hand, leering at you with an obscure, prying intensity. “What’ll it be, girl? Become someone’s property ‘til the end of your days, or help me make history?”

You peer at the map – the physical embodiment of the ultimatum being offered to you – with thinly veiled skepticism. “Who’s to say you won’t just sell me after finding your treasure anyway?”

The captain huffs, “Don’t worry, your worth is nothing compared to what’s on that island, and besides—” His mouth splits into a grin that could be equally interpreted as a grimace, warping his face in a way that felt entirely unnatural to how it was designed; he looks like he’s never smiled a day in his life before now. “I am a man of my word. If you succeed, I’d let you walk free with about as much as you can fill your pockets with. Call it a gesture of my goodwill, and a little extra incentive for your success.”

Admittedly, the prospect of some creepy lech becoming your “owner” wasn’t helping you see many drawbacks to his deal. Either you succeed by some miraculous twist of fate, walking away not only with your freedom, but also compensation… or you fail, possibly suffering what would more than likely be a horrible and agonizing death. But, at the very least, you would die free. It was simple as that, and in all honesty—

You really appreciated simplicity, in the grand scheme of things.

You don’t really see a point in drawing the moment out any further than it already has, plucking the paper from his fingers with a resigned finality. A seagull’s raucous squawking carries over your heads yet again – you deliberately ignore the uneasy stirring in your gut, as the memory of a certain somebody’s voice swims at the forefront of your mind. The frantic beating of wings fleeing toward the direction of land comes just before the distant, subdued murmur of thunder traveling through the atmosphere, as if following on some sort of theatrical cue.

The captain seems to have anticipated this turn of the weather as much as he did your decision, muttering something indistinct beneath his breath before piercing the anticipatory standstill that enveloped his crew with a short, practiced whistle. They sprang into action without a moment of delay.

An aggravated hiss escapes your lips as the man that has been attached to your shoulder this entire time forcibly ushers you towards the rolled up ladder that is used to board the ship, finally removing his damned meat hooks from your poor, aching collarbone. Yeah, that was definitely going to become a hideously gigantic bruise later. Lovely.

Though you probably weren’t even going to live long enough for it to be seen by anyone anyway, so you suppose it didn’t really matter all that much… you still felt like you were entitled to complaining, though.

You observed the crew with a detached form of curiosity, as they lowered a small rowboat into the water with a swift and synergetic efficiency. For some reason, it’s the thought of having to haul yourself all the way to that island that begins to chip at your apathetic façade, a troubled frown cracking through your stony features – if the sirens truly won’t kill you first, then the fatigue from rowing very well might. Gods, you didn’t even want to consider the return trip, on the off chance of your success.

A muted splash meets your ears precisely as the rope ladder is tossed over the boat’s railing, the sound of it knocking against the hull following in a rickety staccato as it unfurled. A heavy quiet settles over the ship once again, in anticipation for your next action.

Time for the moment of truth, it seems.

You turn your back to the uncomfortable weight of their expectant stares, shuffling forward to slowly clamber over the railing. It’s a miracle that you manage to not fling yourself backward, as you awkwardly fumble onto the other side. You take a moment to gather your bearings, hugging your body to the sturdiness of the carved wood as seawater sloshed beneath you; but unfortunately for you, time was of the essence, and the captain wasn’t too keen on his being wasted.

“…We don’t have all day, girl,” he snaps impatiently, that distinct, baritone voice easily cutting through the ambient noises of the sea. “That storm on the horizon will pass over this area by nightfall, and I don’t want to be here when it does. So I’d suggest you hop to it, if you don’t want to be left behind.”

By this point, you aren’t too shocked, as the list of potential causes for your failure appeared to be piling up at a laughably exponential rate. Nevertheless, you began your careful descent down the swaying ladder, committing each of their faces to your memory before you dipped below the railing, because for all you know—

ㅤ

…they just may be the last humans you will ever see.

ㅤ

Nearly an hour of rowing later… and three hours of daylight remaining.

ㅤ

“Stupid—”

Inhale, pull.

“—fucking pirates—”

Exhale, and push.

“—and their stupid—”

Inhale, pull.

“—fucking—”

Exhale…

“—greed.”

…and push.

You drop your oars with an exhausted groan, allowing yourself a brief respite from your rage-fueled rowing to just drift with the flow of the ocean’s current, while indulging in its rejuvenating spray. The muscles in your entire upper half felt as if they were on the brink of tearing open, and your ragged breathing indicated your lungs weren’t exactly faring any better. At least you’re finally getting the exercise, your grandmother would probably be griping right about now. Of course, even in death, that woman remained an unshakable hindrance to your peace of mind.

“Consequences this, consequences that – should’ve followed your own advice, old hag. Might’ve lived a little longer if you laid off that damn pipe,” you mutter, slouching forward as you dig for the map you kept tucked in your bodice. Unrolling it over your thigh, you examined the paper carefully.

It only took a quick glance upward to affirm that you were undoubtedly heading in the right direction, as you were steadily nearing the same rock formations the captain had indicated; the weathered skeleton of a marooned ship was cradled between their jagged edges – as if they were a massive creature’s maw bursting from the sea. It felt like fitting symbolism for the island in its entirety, buds of unease blooming in your chest at the unnerving sight. You could only imagine how many more ships were beneath you, an unseen graveyard littering the ocean floor.

You wondered if it would become your resting place, too.

Shaking such distractions from your mind, you stuff the map back into your bodice and resume rowing, grunting with every other forward and backward motion – your destination wasn’t much further now. It’s the most effort that you’ve had to exert by far, wrestling against the choppy tide that seemed to form in the outer perimeter of the island. You would’ve been worried about the very legitimate chance of blacking out from exhaustion, were you not so preoccupied with steering yourself towards a rocky outcropping that sat a safe distance from the sheer cliff wall, away from the large waves that crashed against it with a force that would pulverize your tiny vessel – and you with it.

Far be it from you to tell a lousy pirate how to do his lousy job, but it might’ve been a helpful detail to have been made aware of. Perhaps he hadn’t even expected you to make it beyond this point, the bastard. You will live to see the end of this day, if only to make him eat his words. Fates be damned, you will live.

It was coming up on you fast, now. The oars didn’t seem to serve much of purpose anymore – seeing as the surging riptide was now hurtling you directly toward the rock – so you threw them to your feet, anchoring yourself with a white knuckled grip on the lip of the boat. All you could do was hold on, and brace for impact.

The nose of the boat slammed into the rock with a force that rattled your brain against your skull, nearly knocking your handhold loose and flinging you from your seat. Despite your disorientation, you quickly scramble out before the raging tidewater can suck you back into the fray; you drag it onto the highest point of the rock with you, just for good measure – it wouldn’t be possible to get back without it, after all.

Thankfully, this spot seems elevated enough that it can probably be safely left unattended, but still – you’re skeptical of taking any chances with the elements. With nothing to anchor or tie it down, you can only hope it will suffice in keeping it from being swept away, leaving you a prisoner of this place.

You turn to regard the water’s churning surface with trepidation – today’s next test of your limits, and the one that you had been dreading the most. But you couldn’t afford to waste daylight worrying about whether or not your life truly was moments from meeting its end, or about how slow and horrific the feeling of drowning would likely be, so you decide to stop thinking and just act.

You breathe in and out in to prepare your lungs for what is to come, sparing the heavens one last glance – asking not for protection, but willing yourself to be witnessed by every cruel, divine force that has lead you to this moment – before crossing your arms over your chest and leaping into the water feet first.

Out of the frying pan, and into the fire, as they say.

Naturally, the sensation that hits you first is the sheer cold, which swallows you up entirely as you sink and sink. Next is the shock upon your nervous system, briefly causing your limbs to seize up, but you manage to shake free from it almost as quickly as it grabbed ahold of you, opening your eyes and scanning for the cave’s entrance – it felt like they were melting from the saltwater, but you endured.

You’re fortunate to spot it almost instantly, considering it must have been large enough to accommodate the width of three ships altogether; it was quite hard to miss. Although, if the threat of your lungs caving in on themselves weren’t an impending matter, you would have given yourself a moment to marvel at the breathtaking sight that was laid out before you, as you propel yourself toward the gaping opening.

Fringing reefs of pastel coral were interspersed with clusters of vibrantly pigmented anemones, and patches of seaweed flowing like verdant ribbons amongst various forms of small aquatic life litter just about every inch of visible space below you, an animated canvas of colors that put even the finest gardens or museums in your home capital to shame. Never once in your life have you considered the possibility of baring witness to such a natural beauty firsthand, something the average citizen could only find in paintings or storybooks. Not that you were glad your life led to this outcome, but maybe in better circumstances – your endlessly curious mind would have been bursting with wonder.

It seemed that the entrance you were swimming through was merely an antechamber to an even bigger cave, its shaded overhang making the clear shafts of light that were bleeding through the area ahead of you easy to navigate towards. The dwindling remains of your breath were escaping your nostrils in fat plumes as soon as you passed the second threshold, guiding you upwards to a glassy, semi-distorted surface – but most importantly, to air.

You might have considered it odd, for beams of direct sunlight to be appearing inside of this cave, which should have been a secluded pocket in the earth, and about a hundred feet or so beneath solid bedrock and the open sky. However, you were somewhat preoccupied with not drowning, steeling your lungs with the last ounce of adrenaline your body could muster as you clawed your way to the surface.

Your head whipped back in a violent arc the instant it broke through, a hungry gasp for oxygen falling from your gaping lips and traveling around you with a reverberating, prolonged echo – suggesting this chamber was indeed an immense one. You aren’t expecting to have to squint when you open your eyes, but lo and behold, there is a legitimate brightness penetrating your pupils when you do.

You weakly raised a hand to block the glare from your sensitive gaze, peering through the gaps in your fingers at the light’s source, from what you blearily discerned to be an opening in the cave’s high, dome-like ceiling. Overgrown flora hung almost artfully over its edge, dripping from dense condensation that had patches of lichen encompassing the wide perimeter of it in a large web. It was only then – as you floated on your back and waited for your racing heartbeat to stabilize, absently pondering just how just how nice it’d be to have wings of your own, to abscond through that hole and from your insignificant, humanly woes – that something in the fuzzy outskirts of your vision finally made itself known.

Resting within the heart of this hidden grotto was a ship, but not just any typical ship, being far too grand to be rightfully compared with anything you have previously laid eyes on before – it was a galleon. You’ve never been lucky enough to catch a glimpse of one, considering they were primarily used by the military or for trade overseas, but you would often find yourself marveling at diagrams of them whenever you would visit the local library, finding them to be more fascinating than any of the regular vessels that would frequently dock at the port of your capital.

If this place weren’t already a testament to its own enormity, you would be puzzled by what you were seeing. The ship held an utterly imposing silhouette, with twice the amount of masts of a standard ship and an overabundance of gunports for cannon fire on each deck, which also was twice the amount of average. Yet despite its clear design for naval warfare, it also possessed a rather regal aesthetic, with a gold trim lining its edges in a subtle embellishment that coalesced into heavier accents at the stern. Even the sails were still somewhat rich with color, displaying crosses and maroon crests over an alabaster canvas. Other than the tip of its bow being mysteriously severed, the boat was in an immaculate state of preservation.

Well then… this alone was more than enough to solidify the captain’s claims, you suppose. Just the ship in of itself could be qualified as treasure, and it wouldn’t be far-fetched to assume it had more stored inside – a lot more, you’d wager. Regardless of the staggering amount of wealth that just a fraction of this discovery could garner, you found yourself slightly more excited to see the history that it held; it had to have been from the early 16th century or so, judging by the information you gathered during your studies. Amazing yet peculiar, seeing as it appeared virtually untouched by the lengthy passage of over a hundred years.

Stranger even, that there weren’t many signs of rot on the wood. It looked as if it had been well maintained, apart from the encrusted layer of fossilized barnacles on its hull.

The extent of the ship’s size didn’t truly sink in until you directly approached its side, making you feel utterly miniscule as you hunted for a ladder or hanging anchor of some kind. You swam to the other side when your search came up short, dearly hoping that there’d be something, anything that could be considered remotely climbable. This would be the proof you needed that the universe well and truly had it out for you when the finish line was literally within reach, just a brief climb away. One could argue that fate wouldn’t possibly be so cruel, but you knew better – your grandmother’s proclivity to superstition made sure of that.

Your groan of frustration resonated deeply within the hollow chamber, skipping across the water’s placid surface and back into your own ears when the other side proved just as fruitful as the first. You shouldn’t have been surprised considering your luck, but it just seemed ridiculous for something as trivial as this to be what bests you after coming so far, after successfully “negotiating” with pirates, after wrestling with the fury of Poseidon in a measly little rowboat, and after avoiding drowning through the skin of your teeth.

No – you refused to accept it, refused to return to the captain empty-handed and with your tail between your legs. Not after vowing to yourself that you’d prove him wrong. So you continued on your path, circling back around to the boat’s starboard side.

Even with your bullheaded adamancy, you weren’t sure what you were anticipating, when you knew better than to actually expect anything new to be suddenly waiting for you – as if you somehow overlooked the one thing your eyes had been specifically scouring for – but you certainly hadn’t considered for just that to happen. Dangling over the gunwale almost innocently, like it had sheepishly slithered itself there only after your discontent had been vocally expressed, was a long length of thickly corded rope. Despite the cool rush of relief that washed over you, the hairs on your nape arose in a skeptical wariness. That couldn’t have been there before – you were certain you had scanned this side top to bottom… hadn’t you?

An odd, nagging feeling itched relentlessly at your insides as you grasped the rope with both hands, curling your fingertips into its coarse, malleable texture. Whatever the case for its sudden manifestation, you weren’t going to take it for granted – you couldn’t afford to.

Fortifying yourself with the promise of your struggles being generously rewarded soon, you planted the soles of your feet onto the damp wood, and you began to climb. You could practically hear the muscles in your arms begging for mercy with each shaky advancement upward, the weariness of one perilous event after the other finally beginning to settle in your bones. But you were so close, and you’d be damned if fatigue attempted to get in the way of that now.

You knew it may become an issue later, but you were somewhat gratified for being soaked to your core, if only to sooth the burning beneath your flesh, to give you the extra modicum of strength that you needed to push yourself over the railing. You tumbled onto the deck like a sack of potatoes, a faint wheeze expelled from your lungs as you rolled onto your side.  

If not for the roughness of the wood rubbing against your cheek, rooting you to reality, it almost would not have been believable that you finally had made it. You were so grateful to be on a stable surface again that you could’ve kissed the deck without a hint of shame, but all you were capable of in that moment was lying still, cradling your sore arms to your chest as you caught your breath.

Dense with a mixture of earthy aromas, oxygen-rich air revitalized you with every inhale – the featherlight weight of it over your skin felt almost healing to the touch. Filtering the ambient sounds of nature that trickled through the opening above you was a lulling hush, a soothing blanket of stillness that laid over the cave’s atmosphere. For all the fear the captain had woven into your expectations of this place, you’d think you stumbled upon Shangri-La… but a nagging voice in the back of your mind told you to know better, to remember every evidence of danger your own eyes had seen on the way here.

Yet regardless of how safe you currently are, if it were up to you, you would curl up exactly where you were and stay there until your body truly deemed it necessary to move. But you weren’t allowed such a luxury with the limited daylight that you had remaining, so you allowed yourself a minute more of peace before mustering the will to push yourself upright.

You had figured that you were prepared to encounter the sight that greeted you, considering you were made abundantly aware of the innumerable amount of lives that were sacrificed over this very ship, but the first time anyone sees a real corpse is bound to be more harrowing than they could ever expect.

…perhaps you spoke too soon regarding safety.

Randomly scattered across the ship’s deck was about a half a dozen bodies, all in what seemed to be the final stage of decay. For some reason, you never took into consideration that they would still be wearing the clothing that they had drawn their last breaths in, presuming from all the depictions of naked skeletons you have seen that it all somehow just… withered away along with their flesh. Obviously, you were enlightened of the absurdity of that assumption now.

The skeleton closest to you was equipped in a manner which one wouldn’t typically see where you were from, comprised of loosely sewn animal skins and metal adornments deeply inscribed with runic symbols, implying they from somewhere Nordic, and presumably male. He was laying on his back with his right hand resting over his chest; you thought that he looked a bit serene, in a macabre sort of way.

The next body was draped halfway over the portside railing, donning a large frock coat and leather trousers, suggesting they were male as well. The evidence of his death was plain to see with a vertical hole on the left side of his upper back – a fatal blow that likely had been aimed for his heart. It looked as if he were attempting to climb overboard, you surmised curiously. Clearly, he had been denied of that chance.

Nearly every skeleton that you examined appeared to share two things in common: they were male – at least judging by their stature and attire – and they had the same, singular hole either over their chests or their backs, with roughly the same positioning. Yet there was no evidence of any weapons remaining.

There seemed to be one exception, however, and it was located the furthest from the others, lying adjacent to the steps that lead to the back of the ship, toward the captain’s quarters that sat above the stern.

The first thing you noticed was what they were wearing closely resembled your own clothing, with a corseted bodice that sat over a short-sleeved, cream-colored chemise – a distinctly feminine choice of attire – and a loose fitting pair of breeches that were tied at the knee. Unlike the others, there was not a single sign to indicate how they, or she, had died – only that her body was arranged in a relaxed manner that implied she had passed calmly.    

The second thing to capture your attention was something peeking through the cradle of one of her boney palms, a tiny beacon of color amidst a slathering of dull, melancholy hues. You were loath to lay your hands upon the dead, considering it more rude than distasteful, but alas – your intrigue was a stubborn thing that could hardly ever be thwarted.

“Sorry to disturb you,” you muttered, gingerly kneeling beside her. It was a strange and humbling feeling, holding the hand of a person who has long since departed from this world, and one you couldn’t fathom to describe as you pried her stiff grasp open. You handled her as if she were porcelain, fearing that she would crumble to pieces lest you applied even the tiniest bit of force. With meticulous care, you reached through her fingers, and slowly pulled the object free.

Your initial expectation was some form of garnet or ruby enameled jewelry due to the alluringly stark shade of red being what caught your eye, but it was revealed to only be a feather. Only was not implying you were at all disillusioned, when its vividness seemed to rival that of blood, a color you had always secretly favored. You struggled to think of a bird that would fit such a purely sanguine coloration – the closest coming to mind being either a cardinal or some variation of parrot – but neither were a species that fit a plume of this scale, at least not to your knowledge. You considered yourself pretty well read, but not to that capacity.

It felt like there was something very important that you were forgetting to consider, a key factor to your entire reason for being here, but it was overshadowed by the sensory overload you’d been riding on ever since you breached this cave.

That lingering uncertainty remained in the background of your psyche, eclipsed by your incessant curiosity as you notice something lightly scratched into the wood where her hand had been lying.

“Eram quod es, eris quod sum,” you whispered aloud, before pursing your lips in concentrated thought. You were certain that it was Latin, recognizing a few words from your studies, but you weren’t anywhere near fluent. You figured that you might be able to get an idea of the phrase if you attempted to sound it out from what you knew.

“We are— no, that’s not right…” You’ve seen some of these words before, if only you could just remember. “I… I was what—”

“I was what you are; you will be what I am.”

The feather fell from your grasp, seesawing through the air in a peaceful descent that directly contrasted the meteoric plummeting in your gut. Oh, you had thought dazedly, as your gaze crawled a path up the ship’s main mast, toward the source of the smooth voice that interrupted you.

…that was what you were forgetting.

Perched on the wooden beam that the uppermost sail was tethered to, was what you dumbly presumed to be a siren. They seemed to have materialized out of thin air, granting no audible warning of their arrival. Most notably of all – other than that you now knew what manner of wings that feather belonged to, hanging in excess off their back like a crimson cape – was that the one who had found you was not a female.

So much for there being no such thing… stupid, useless fucking pirates. It was settled, then – the universe operated solely to spite you.

“A tad morbid for my tastes, but it certainly is… thought provoking, I suppose.”

Despite your better consideration to make for the ships railing like a bat out of hell, you remained rooted in place, squinting through the waning beams of sunlight at the siren’s statuesque silhouette for a glimpse of his face. It almost seemed deliberate, how the glare bled wholly onto his features from your angle.

“Well done, by the way,” he drawled, embodying the epitome of nonchalance with how he lazily leaned against the crow’s nest, arms loosely crossed and wings dangling limply. He certainly didn’t appear at all threatened by your presence here. “You almost figured it out. Fancy yourself an aspiring linguist?”

“I… read a lot,” you responded vaguely, glancing at the railing that sat at least six strides from where you stood. Should you even dare to attempt in making a run for it? Your gaze darted to the corpse that was hanging over the portside railing a few meters away, and immediately dismissed that notion. If even an able-bodied man could not make it, which you assumed now of whom he had been fleeing from, then what chance did you have?

A contemplative hum from overhead reminded you where your attention would likely be wise to stay, considering this siren could evidently move without detection. You surrendered every shred of your attention to him as he stepped off his makeshift perch, watching like petrified prey as he plummeted towards you. Just as you wondered if he intended to crush you underfoot those expansive wings unfurled, flapping once to soften his landing, whipping you with a powerful gust of air.

You briefly wondered if this was what field mice felt like when barn owls swooped down upon them. How ironic, considering you used to watch indifferently as they were carried away, squeaking helplessly while you lounged behind your grandmother’s cottage, idly marveling at the harsh wonders of nature before burying your nose back into whatever book you’d been consumed by that evening.

There was a heavy moment of silence while you studied each other, after he straightened himself as those large primary feathers swept against the floorboards, wings tucking comfortably against his back. You probably did resemble cornered prey, with the way you mirrored his leisurely approach step for step, fixing him with a doe-eyed stare when your back collided with the handrail’s post sitting at the base of the stairs.

Despite your fear, you would be blatantly lying to yourself if you didn’t acknowledge the magnitude of his beauty. Had you not known better, you’d think you were gazing upon a renaissance sculpture made flesh – his features so carved and without flaw; the only plausible explanation was that they had been crafted that way, by a profoundly loving and meticulous hand. Even the smoothness of his skin resembled that of marble, the sole difference being its dewy, sun-kissed shade.

What would be the most unremarkable of characteristics, details you wouldn’t normally look twice at on an ordinary person seemed to demand your full examination; like the light wisps of hair accenting his sharp chin, or the unruly brows that sat over a strikingly yellow pair of eyes. They certainly contributed to the danger he exuded, especially with the pointed black markings that extended from his tear ducts in an almost catlike fashion.

His hair only magnified his sunbathed allure, shining like a sandy beach during midday and swept from his face in a feathered wave, save for a few stubborn pieces dusting across his forehead. You’d think he recently went for a swim with the way his bare torso gleamed with moisture, but the baggy harem-style pants hanging low on those trim hips were loose with aridity.

It felt like a gentle tugging on your subconscious, a coaxing balm on the buzzing nerves that kept you hyperaware, and that was precisely why you didn’t trust any of it – the glamour that surrounded him.

He met your thorough examination with equal – if not fiercer – intensity, dragging that arcane stare over the entirety of you with a patient, thinly concealed appreciation. Those unnervingly keen eyes spared you another brazen onceover, before finally meeting yours through a slow blink, tilting his head in an avian fashion.

“So, how’d a mousy little scholar wind up here?” His lips stretched into a feline smile, revealing dangerously elongated canines to match. Fantastic – as if the huge wings and clawed fingertips weren’t sufficient warnings for you to behave. Now you’d have to worry about him getting close enough to make a meal out of your jugular. “Get tired of living vicariously through your books, did you?”

“Tell me…” He abruptly leaned forward, which had you almost folding yourself backward over the handrail to spare at least a modicum of personal space, finding the delicate caress of his balmy breath over your mouth far too intimate for your liking. “Did I meet your expectations?”

Well, this certainly wasn’t how you imagined for this scenario to go.

“…I didn’t have many to begin with,” you answered slowly, breaking from the hold of his invasive gaze to gather your courage to speak. “I didn’t even know your kind existed before today – it wasn’t my idea to come here.”

“Ah.” He clicks his tongue through a sardonic huff, solving the mystery of you in all but an instant. You released a breath you hadn’t been aware of withholding when he swayed backward, releasing the invisible chokehold of his close proximity. “Pirates got ahold of you, eh? Pity.” Even with the barefaced sarcasm, there was an undertone of sympathy in his voice; the kind one would have when seeing a pretty butterfly snared in a spider’s web. A sympathy that is only derived from disappointment, at nature’s cruelty toward lovely, weak things.

You warily glance at him again, before sighing shortly, "Yes… but there's no one to blame for that but myself. I stuck my nose where it didn’t belong, and now here I am, paying the consequences.”

He tutted softly, like you were a child who did not know any better.

“Silly human, don’t you know what they say about cats and curiosity? Let me guess,” he hummed, throwing those sinewy arms over the handrail opposite of you, reclining his head back as he tapped rhythmically at the wood with his fingers, which you’ve only just noticed were riddled with a variety of sparkling rings. You tried your utmost to not stare at the way the action emphasized his pectorals, but it was as if those damned things had their own gravitational pull. “These consequences involved being sent here to retrieve a certain… something. The same something they came here for. Am I getting warm?”

Your eyes didn’t need to follow the direction he nodded at to know whom he had been indicating, but you humored him anyhow. A numbing sense of resignation suddenly settled within you, at the likelihood of this being a test to whether or not you kept your life. You may not have much of a fighting chance, but at the very least, you’d spare your dignity by retaining what little composure you had left.

“…And if you are? Would you kill me too?”

"Hm… it depends.” He squinted down the length of that aristocratic nose at you, halting the tick, tick, ticking of his talons to stroke his chin in a show of contemplation. "How badly do you want what they died for? Would you really be willing to risk your life for someone else’s greed? For material wealth? Or would it be to save your own skin?"

Your expression clouded over as your gaze sank to the floor, brows knitted and mouth tight-lipped. This was it, then. “All I want is… is to be free. To experience a simple life with simple pleasures, but to have life that is worth living. If I can’t have that,” you paused, glancing at the skeleton of the woman who now seemed like an eerie reflection of you, “then I would rather die for myself, at least. That might not have been enough for them, but it is for me.”

The condescending guise he had been wearing shifted into something unreadable, his raised hand dropping to his side. There was something jarring and distinctly inhuman about how quickly he could switch from charming to calculating, as well as his unwavering scrutiny that felt akin to being dissected. Before you could clear the lump of discomfort caught in your throat, a toothy grin had already wormed its way onto his face once again, as if that initial look of deliberation was only a trick of your mind.

“You’re an interesting one. That makes you lucky, because I like interesting things.”

You blinked owlishly at him, unsure how to respond. That was unexpected. Personally, luck would be the last term you would use to describe your predicament, but you took it that meant he wouldn’t be killing you… for now. Even if there was a decent aspect of truth to it, you were kind of exaggerating that last part. Gods only know how fickle minded sirens may be, and you weren’t willing to test that theory now – or ever.

“Tell you what…” He pushed off the handrail with the arm that was still draped across it, sauntering towards you with playful purpose. “Since I’m feeling rather giving today, you can take whatever you want off this boat – if you grant me a moment of your time. It’s been so very long since I’ve had decent company, you know?”

You were curious as to why he wouldn't just seek solace in his own kind, but you decided to not comment on it. You’d rather not risk him revoking his charity by prodding at what might be an unsavory subject. Perhaps sirens just weren’t the type to mingle amongst themselves, or weren’t typically ones for idle interaction and you had merely encountered the odd one of the bunch.

“I… guess that is fair,” you acquiesce, casting a swift glance at the hole in the cave’s ceiling when the sound of faraway thunder fell through it. The hands of daylight seemed to be creeping upon its final hour as the approaching storm drew ever nearer, which meant you had very little time left before the captain and his crew would hoist their sails from this place. Hopefully he doesn’t drag this “moment” he’s asking of you out, because you need to leave soon, before the tides become too tumultuous – you’ve wasted far too much time already. “Just for a moment, then – it’s the least I can repay for your generosity.”

“My, how polite you are,” he said through a shrewd smirk, offering a beckoning hand to you. “It certainly is a refreshing change of pace from my usual guests.”

“…I can’t say I blame them too much – it is a bit frightening being confronted by what looks like a human fused with a vulture for the first time,” you confess bluntly, sliding your fingers onto his upturned palm hesitantly, taking care to not accidentally nick yourself on those lethal claws. Gods, his skin was somehow even softer than it looked. How he managed such a thing with what had to be a very… hands on lifestyle, you could only guess. A benefit of being anything but an ordinary human, maybe.

“A vulture?” He pouts, dragging a thumb over your knuckles to secure you within his grip, gently guiding you along as he begins ascending the stairs. “That’s a tad harsh – I would be a far prettier bird.”

You withheld the urge to snort, finding it amusing that a mythical creature the captain had all but declared of originating from the bowels of hell was offended by being compared to a species that didn’t fit its standards of beauty.

“A peacock, then?”

His laugh was a warm, dulcet sound, scarlet wings twitching with pleased mirth. It was undeniable – red truly had to be your favorite color, you thought before quickly averting your eyes, when he directed a sly look at you over his shoulder. You prayed that didn’t mean he caught on to your pestering desire to touch them, scratching relentlessly at the forefront of your mind. You were just curious, is all. Really. “That’s adequate, I suppose.”

The stairs didn’t seem to stretch that high up from its base, but a single glance backward confirmed otherwise when you both approached the final step. For the briefest moment, you permitted yourself to bask in the culmination of wonders this day has brought, as you surveyed the extent of this chamber, a scene that a mere iota – less than a handful even – of the human race has managed to witness. With rapt mystification, you pondered just how long it has been since a person has set eyes on this place, and lived to tell the tale.

If everything continued to progress in your favor, you just may become one of those very people.

“My name is Hawks, by the way. Well – that is what others address me as. You, however, may have the privilege of calling me Keigo, since the nature of our rendezvous will be so unfortunately brief.”

You cast an inquisitive look at him, puzzled behind his reasoning for having multiple names. Was it simply a cultural thing amongst his race, to have titles for differing people and reasons? You supposed it wasn’t all that out of the ordinary, considering humans practiced similar customs with nicknames and such.

“Why do they call you Hawks, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Keigo pulled you from your rooted position with minimal effort, hardly needing to expend an ounce of exertion to tug your mass forward and with him towards the large doors barring entry to the captain’s quarters, which shared gold accents similar to the ones adorning the ship’s outer body. He clearly was not partial to wasting time; it aided your wishes to speed things along, though, so you weren’t exactly complaining.

"Your curiosity certainly knows no bounds. Though I suppose I have no room to spout such things, being the meddlesome nuisance that I am.” You can hear the smile in his voice even as he steps in front of you, a cheeky inflection you have easily begun to identify whenever those wicked lips quirk upwards, which you’ve already discerned to be quite a frequent trait.

“But as for that name, it’s something of a… informal title, is all.” He quips rather ambiguously, tossing another pointed glance your way before ripping the doors open with excessive flourish. You realize his dramatics were entirely warranted, once you feast your eyes upon the cabin’s contents.

Its interior could only be regarded as baroquely rustic, a climactic coalescence of all the extravagance you have beheld from this ship, from this day by far. The first thing anyone would likely notice upon entering were the tall lancet-style windows facing the entrance on the furthest wall, which provided a view of a portion of the cave through stained mosaic panes, showering the floor in front of them in kaleidoscopic beams of light. They felt reminiscent of the cathedral windows back home, being significantly smaller but similarly Victorian in design. Partially curtaining them were velvet drapes, grandly sized and filigreed with golden lacework. Glimmering under the waning rays was a copper telescope, standing tall enough to peer through at eye level – too bad it was essentially useless within the cave itself.

Hanging within the center of the room was a beautifully ornate chandelier, sitting over a large rug that was designed identically to the drapes, which also had an arrangement of plush blankets and pillows on top of it. A few stray feathers were interspersed with the almost nest like arrangement, indicating it was likely where Keigo slept. A peculiar choice, considering you spotted a king sized bed snugly slotted within an alcove adjacent to the windows, covered in a blanket of dust.

Whoever designed this ship had either a borderline obsessive appreciation for any and everything gold, or they simply wanted to display their wealth as brazenly as they could without crossing into the land of gaudy. Although in your opinion, the solid gold chain attached to the ceiling’s primary support beam, connecting to an equally gilded cage that dangled a few paces from a row of overflowing bookcases was officially a little excessive – there was even what looked to be the skeleton of a bird inside of it… poor thing clearly starved to death.

You didn’t even realize you had drifted further into the cabin, mindlessly brushing your fingers over a meridian globe that sat upon a massive antique desk of solid mahogany, until the sound of the doors shutting snapped you out of your trance.

Keigo chuckled at your spooked expression, as if you had legitimately forgotten where you were, whom you were with in that moment. For a second there, you almost did, which invoked a pang of disappointment in your chest for being denied the time to truly savor such a once in a lifetime experience. It wasn’t as if you wanted to be left behind, trapped here for the rest of your days, but you only wished that you could explore every secret this ship has to offer before leaving…

“Believe me, this is nothing. The deck beneath us is filled to the brim with gold and all sorts of priceless artifacts, as is the one beneath it – it’s honestly a mystery to me how this ship can even stay afloat,” he drones in a blasé tone, as if being exposed to such obscene opulence for so long has worn its novelty to him.

You certainly did not share his indifference, sweeping the room with wide eyes a second time before breathing in a dazed whisper, “Who on earth owned this ship? All of these things?”

“Didn’t you notice, silly girl?” For what felt like the umpteenth time today he is laughing at your expense, lazily gesturing above your head. “He’s right next to you.”

Your head whipped to your right, and indeed, you had somehow missed an oil painting that was affixed to the wall next to you. It depicted a man nobly reclined in a throne-like chair, bequeathed in a heavily embellished waistcoat of dark maroon, silk breeches that appeared far better tailored than your own, and a charcoal tri-cornered hat with a snowy-white feather fashioned to one of its brims. Other than a deep slash obscuring his visage, the most notable feature of the canvas was the human skull resting in one of his ring-adorned hands, which had a crown encrusted with diamonds and rubies sitting upon its cranium. Despite his inexplicably marred expression and identity, the air of power he seemed to ooze was not at all mitigated.

“I used to think I wasn’t one for jewelry,” Keigo suddenly spoke from your side, prompting your gaze to return to him. He was staring at the painting vacantly whilst fiddling with his rings, which you noticed to be curiously similar to the mysterious captain of this ship, although you couldn’t truly tell with how muddled from age it has become. “My kind likes to adorn themselves in bones, you see – too barbaric for my tastes.”

He reached across the desk for something that was hidden from your angle by the large globe, an impish smile slowly creeping over his face from your small, fascinated gasp when his hand returned with the very same skull in tow, crown and all. Keigo plucked the bejeweled headpiece from its dome, carelessly tossing the head back onto the desk and gingerly placed it upon his own. It sagged to the side almost immediately, evidently a little too big for his own skull, but it only felt fitting with his frivolous demeanor. Simpering, he preened beneath your attention, “But then I discovered human trinkets were far more fun to play with. Suits me rather nicely, don’t you think?”

You knew better than to feed into his ego, but you genuinely couldn’t help the faintly amused quirking of your lips, nor the dry response that fell from them. “You look like the type of king who would sit around all day, drinking himself stupid on wine while his society falls to ruin.”

He removed the crown, scoffing, “Already have me all figured out, do you? On the contrary, I wager I could lead a society into prosperity if I had the motivation.”

“I think anyone could achieve whatever they wanted with the right motivation,” you shot back, nearly reeling backward when he suddenly reached toward you.

“Touché,” Keigo purred, plopping the crown on your head before you could reflexively swat his hand away. For whatever reason you decided to play along, sighing in amused defeat as it drooped partially on your skull as well. Whomever this thing was fitted for must’ve had the genes of an ogre if it didn’t fit even on your head. Your grandmother had always said all that reading made your head too big.

“On second thought, I think it looks better on you.” He grinned devilishly, and now it was your turn to scoff. He wasn’t behaving abhorrently at least, but he would have to try a lot harder in order to distract you if that was his goal.

“Also, speaking of wine…” Pivoting on his heels, Keigo marched toward the middle of the room, where his makeshift nest was. Squinting in suspicion, it must’ve felt like you were burning holes into his back as he kneeled onto the blankets, wings stretched slightly to block his ministrations. The telltale sound of a cork popping followed by pouring indicated he really was going there, the shameless bird – of course he kept a bottle of wine where he slept. You already had an excuse loaded on the tip of your tongue when he rocked back to his feet and swiveled back toward you, smirking like a cat that ate the canary as he moseyed back to your side with a rather weighty looking goblet in hand.

“I know there’s another cup sitting around here somewhere… but I don’t feel like digging around for it right now, so you can use this one. It’s my favorite, by the way,” he whispered conspiratorially, as if sharing a long withheld secret, "so feel honored.”

You didn’t accept the drink right away, simply staring at it as he held it before you. He wasn’t actually being serious, was he? Did you look like the type of person that would throw caution to the wind, making yourself tipsy on a time sensitive… quest? Whatever the hell you could call this thing the captain sent you on?

“Aw, come on,” he cooed liltingly, waving it under your nose as if the scent alone would entice you into accepting. You suppose it did smell pretty good... “Don’t act like you don’t want to try it. This stuff is over a hundred years old – it’s way more valuable than the rubbish you came here for, in my opinion.”

“That’s…” You wrinkle your nose to deter the seductive aroma from swaying you, searching for ways to not outright decline him in order to remain in his good graces, “—kind of you to offer, but I probably shouldn’t.”

The saccharine smile he wore did not budge, but his voice was beginning to adopt the tiniest undertone of annoyance. “It wouldn’t be a crime to enjoy yourself, you know. Just give it a try – I know you’ll like it.”

You sighed, “I just— I don’t know. Normally I wouldn’t mind, but it just doesn’t sound like a good idea right now, is all.”

Keigo deflated, exhaling dramatically and topaz eyes downcast, shadowed by the curtains that were his tawny lashes. “Oh, alright... I suppose you can be on your way then if you’re already done here, and I can keep all of this treasure to myself, as usual…”

The urge to roll your eyes was gargantuan. Really? Was he legitimately guilt tripping you now? Could this be considered blackmail? And to think – you were shivering in your boots from his presence not even ten minutes ago.

“For the love of— fine,” you hiss, swiping the goblet from his hand. Some of it splashed onto his hand, but he didn’t seem to mind if the victorious twinkle in his eyes was anything to go by.  “I’ll have a few sips, and that’s it.” And then you were leaving.

He beamed, lifting his hand to his face. “I guarantee you won’t regret it.”

You huffed into the lip of the cup, slowly tipping a sample of its contents into your mouth – yeah, I better not. You’d be sure to haunt him for the rest of his days if your heart gave out on the way back to the other ship.

Keigo hummed while languidly licking the crimson droplets that beaded off his fingers, pink tongue curling around the slender digits as he watched you drink, providing a teasing glimpse of those spear-like fangs. “Mm, isn’t it delicious?”

Awkwardly averting your eyes, you tried to focus on the wine’s taste instead, savoring the layered flavors of rose petals, cherries, and the lingering aftertaste of something even sweeter that you couldn’t quite identify, before gulping the liquid down your suddenly dried throat. You daintily smacked your lips, blinking in shock at how right he was; his smug chuckle implied he was aware of just that.

“This is kind of good, actually,” you admitted begrudgingly, frowning at him despite your agreeance as you went for another sip. He didn’t have to rub it in, at least.

“Just kind of?” he goaded, features haughty and intermingled with amusement. "Well, I have about a thousand more bottles you can try from since this one apparently isn't up to your standards."

You pressed your unoccupied hand to your mouth to keep from spraying your wine, swallowing through a small cough. Did you hear that correctly? A thousand bottles? On top of two decks that were literally overflowing with gold? It really was a mystery how this ship stayed afloat. “I think this one is sufficient, thank you.” You’d prefer to not drink yourself to death just yet, even with the day you’ve had thus far.

Toying with the goblet in your grasp, you raised it further to your face after noticing grooves beneath your fingertips. Now you could see why it was his favorite, with the gorgeously detailed engraving of a disembodied skull wrapped in a thorny bed of roses, its yawning jaw filled with a nest of songbirds. Above it was the bolded words Memento Mori – yet another Latin phrase.

“Do you know what that says, little scholar?” Keigo’s lowered voice brushed against your ear, invoking a startled little jolt from you. Fuck’s sake, he clearly had a thing for sneaking up on people, didn’t he? Must be a siren thing, you inwardly grumbled, leaning away from him and his cloying, heated breath. If he did that one more time, you were going to lecture him about the importance of boundaries.

“Pft, of course I do. That phrase is easy,” you said with a snooty upturn of your nose, irritated by how patronizing he sounds when he calls you that. “It means remember death, or remember you must die, to be specific.”

“Latin,” he intoned drily, rolling his eyes as he leaned back against the desk with his hip, “pretty, but always so gloomy. The Greeks really needed to liven up a little."

“I think they were rather brilliant,” you muttered into your cup, irked by his easy dismissal of one of the most influential societies the world has ever known. “Their history especially.”

Keigo snorted, arms folding as he regarded you through a lidded stare, evidently not surprised by your opinion, “Naturally. Their language is ancient, and the root of many others. You humans love to dwell in the past.”

Raising one brow, you replied tartly, “Is that so bad, when the present can be so disappointing?”

“Oh? Do I disappoint you?”

You were very tempted to say yes – if only to knock his narcissistic ass down a peg – but that would probably only invite his pestering further, so you deigned to take another drink instead of answering. He undoubtedly already knew what your reply would’ve truly been, gauging by that unnervingly knowing look. Such cunning eyes he had, constantly looking as if they were peeling back the skin-deep layers of your outer persona, and delving into the truth of your heart.

"Anyhow,” he sang, pushing himself from the desk and strutting toward the wall of bookshelves, which were practically spilling over with books despite stretching all the way up to the ceiling and the conjoining walls. You trailed after him, unable to resist being drawn to such a plethora of untapped resources. He withdrew a book that must have been white once, but now was yellowed with age; peeking at the cover, you noticed with discreet interest that it was titled Les Amours. “I myself am quite fond of French. They certainly knew how to appreciate life's pleasures.”

“However…” Yet again, he is leaning into you, fanning that heady warmth over the curve of your cheek, yet this time something within you commands you to be still as a statue as he imprinted the following words onto your skin:

“Le seul vrai langage au monde est un baiser.”

It felt as if he exhaled sparks over your flesh, prompting the miniscule hair follicles they danced over to readily stand at attention. The velvety enunciation that he articulated in felt more than just practiced – it was utterly refined; almost like it were his native tongue.

For some reason you felt parched anew, as a steadily rising heat brewed in your lungs and esophagus, but only a few measly drops fell onto your tongue when you quickly tipped the goblet to your mouth to appease it. How odd – you could have sworn you hadn’t partaken in more than a few sips until now. Something in the furthermost part of your mind was instantly pleading for more – more of that ambrosial sweetness that dwelled after each taste – but you shunned it in favor of remaining present in the conversation. Failing to clear the smoldering coals lodged in your throat, your voice was hoarse as you tentatively questioned him, “What—what does that mean?"

Keigo’s mouth twisted into an enigmatic smile as that electric gaze sank to your lips, trailing static all over their tingling surface, leaving you chilled without its tangible weight when it shifted elsewhere nearly as fast as it came. “Wouldn't you like to you know,” he lilted, snapping the book shut and nudging it back into its original placement by the tip of his claw.

“Well, yes,” you said vexingly, stamping down the anxious urge to gnaw on your bottom lip, feeling strangely fixated on the elegant lines of his tendons and knuckles. Why did your nerves feel so… charged all of a sudden? “It’s why I asked.”

He laughs whilst idly thumbing across the spine of a leather-bound tome, side eyeing you before playfully sighing, “Fine, it means—”

A loud ringing suddenly filled your ears, drowning out his following words. Dizzying vertigo swiftly followed as a rose-colored fuzziness bled into the edges of your vision. You grabbed onto a shelf as subtly as you could manage as alarm – and dare you say the undercurrents of want – surged through your veins. Is this due to the wine? But… you’ve never had a reaction like this before. Was it an allergic response to an ingredient, or something? Has it gone bad? Can wine even go bad?

“Sorry I…” You swallowed a mouthful of saliva, resisting the desire to fan yourself. You were beginning to feel hot, so very, very hot. “Could you repeat that?”

“Is something wrong?” Keigo questioned lightly, although you didn’t miss the mysterious gleam in his eyes, a probing scrutiny similar to when he had interrogated you upon your meeting. For some reason, the image of your grandmother’s face flickered in your mind’s eye, of the cryptic warnings that often fell from her wrinkled, downturned lips. Something was wrong, and you were quickly suspecting it wasn’t because of the wine; these symptoms could not be normal.

Perhaps your grandmother conditioned you into a hopeless cynic just like her, but her chosen phrase when it rains it pours almost never proved itself wrong; you always found yourself regretful in the aftermath of disregarding the signs, only when it was too little, too late.

“You look… unwell. Too much to drink?”

It’s time to leave, you abruptly decided. You no longer felt safe here; the idyllic, fantasy-like atmosphere warping into the mouth of a Venus flytrap, its gaping mouth poised to close upon you at any moment, at any sign of struggle. You should have just dove back into the water the moment you were greeted with a damned congregation of corpses earlier. Even the scrawled message beneath that woman’s hand… the signs were there from the very beginning.

Dying for the sake of freedom be damned, you should have just acknowledged your capabilities and taken your chances with the pirates – and that was what you were going to do.

“N-No, you— um…” Slowly backing away, you staggered slightly whilst cautiously retreating toward the exit, the crown falling from your head and landing on the floor with a noisy clatter, causing your internal panic to flare – you had completely forgotten you were even wearing it. Keigo did not follow, staring you down coolly as he stalked to his nest instead, wings swishing over the mound of blankets. “You have been very hospitable, but I think it’s time for me to leave.”

“Aw, already? What about the fun we were having? The treasure?” You knew it must have been deliberate with how silky and lyrical his voice sounded, as if he intended to tranquilize you into a state of pacification, as sirens were rumored to do. Unfortunately, it was working, seeing as it began to feel like you were wading through mud, your steps petering to a stop. It begs the question: why was it only working now? Wouldn’t you have been ensnared from the moment he first spoke to you?

“Was it something I said?” He pouted, bottom lip jutting dramatically. It felt like you were going to be sick, but not as sickeningly aroused as you were becoming; with every word he uttered, you could feel the slick collecting in the inseam of your pants, oozing all over your inner thighs at a terrifyingly rapid rate. He put something in your drink; it was the only logical conclusion for what was happening to you. Too fast – this was all happening too fast.

“No, I just—” You bit back a groan, nearly doubling over from the agonizing pressure that was white-knuckling your womb, “it’s just— it’s getting rather late, and I’m feeling… tired, so I think it would be wise to start heading back.” Fuck, it was nigh impossible to think or speak clearly, especially with him just a few steps away. You could smell it – the honeyed scent that wafted off him… it was just like that flavor that still clung to your taste buds. It was everywhere, enveloping you like a physical embrace, and seeping into your pores.

You wanted more, needed more; your aching body was insisting it would die without it, but you knew you absolutely must not listen.

“Back to those brutes?” Keigo tsked, clicking his tongue in disappointment as he shook that sandy head of hair; your fingers twitched, longing to gauge its softness. “I don’t get it. What is there to go back to? A life of misery, with no simple pleasures? What about your freedom, hm? I believe you said you’d rather die if you couldn’t have those things. Or was that all just… hot air?”

Gritting your teeth behind tightly pressed lips, it felt like your feet were anchored to the spot, your bones audibly creaking as though they were as you forced them to turn towards the doors.

“Goodbye, Keigo. It was… nice meeting you.” With all of the remaining resolve you could muster, you raised a trembling hand, reaching for the handle—

“Stop.”

You froze, as if the line delivering information from your brain to your limbs was severed. Your voice was hardly more than a delicate undertone, barely squeezing past your stiff lips and locked jaw, “I… beg your pardon?”

“I said stop,” he repeated shortly, that slightly enunciated utterance causing your arm flop to your side, dangling limply. “I didn’t give you permission to leave, did I?”

Despite the black, libidinous ichor pumping through your hammering heart, visceral anger lanced through it like a red-hot poker, giving you the strength to spit your ire clearly. You no longer cared whom or what he was – how dare he do this to you?

“You asked for a moment of my time, and that is precisely what I gave you,” you hissed airily, shaking like a leaf from head to toe. “So you can either deliver on what was promised and let me be on my damned way peacefully, or I—”

“Shut up.”

Your jaws slammed together like a steel trap, lips sealing instantly. His voice echoed almost ethereally, latching itself onto your subconscious and assuming control of you like a puppeteer. All you were capable of was blinking, swaying in place as you stared with bug-eyed terror at the doors a mere arm’s length away from you. Like a child, all you craved in this exact moment was the safety of your grandmother’s embrace, as fat tears quickly accumulated in your waterline. You were scared. You wanted to go home. You should have listened to her warnings sooner.

“There, that’s better,” Keigo sighed contentedly from behind you, as though your voice was beginning to grate on his last nerve. “I was beginning to think it would never kick in. Such a stubborn thing you are… but I must admit – I do so love a challenge.”

Squeezing your eyes shut, salty droplets spilled down your burning cheeks. This isn’t happening; it’s all a just dream. This isn’t happening. It’s all just a dream.

“Now then… turn around.”

Your body automatically complied, moving like a well-oiled machine under his silver-tongued instruction. You kept your eyes closed with the hanging thread of your free will, denying him the satisfaction of seeing the defeat in your gaze, although the trails of your tears likely conveyed that plainly enough.

He hummed lowly, a deeply gratified sound. The sick bastard was enjoying this – enjoying your torment – like it were a private show. There was an extended stretch of silence within the cabin, so stifling you that could hear your pulse pounding like war drums in your ears, until finally, he softly crooned, “Take off your clothes.”

When your fingers darted to the laces of your bodice, he swiftly added, “Slowly.”

You could feel the hungry crawl of his eyes following the garment’s unraveling, practically attached to the sluggish path your hands paved, slowing your movements with the weight of his stare alone. It strayed from where your digits traveled, dragging its heat over the curve of your bosom peeking from the plunging neckline of your chemise as you pulled the outer article off your torso. It dropped to the floor soundlessly, immediately forgotten as you obediently moved onward, like a marionette dancing to his tune. Neither of you noticed the scrap of paper that fell with it.

“That’s more like it,” he purred while the cream-colored undergarment was tugged over your head, relishing in the enticing reveal of your pebbled nipples and pert breasts, their shape accentuated by the lifting of your arms. Were you even aware of how precious you were? It practically radiated off you – your virginal innocence. And Keigo was itching to have his fill. “Mm… you were worth the wait.”

Unable to speak unless he commanded it, the best you could manage in reply was an agitated twitch of your eyebrows. The sound of his breathy chuckle had your hair standing on end, even as you dutifully toed off your boots before untying the knot in your waistband.

“Wait,” he ordered, before your breeches could join the rest of your clothes piled at your feet.

What, you thought amidst the cacophony of pining, mewling whispers. What else could you possibly want, you demon?

“Open your eyes. Look at me.”

Of course, he would thieve even that last scrap of your dignity, forcing you to look him in the eye as you debased yourself, as you bestowed him with a sight you had yet to grant any other man. You intended to save yourself, to wait until it truly felt right. It was only natural, you supposed, for this cruel world to chew you up and spit you out, with such naïve ideations. It was only natural, that it would repay you in kind most deplorably, for daring to ever dream at all.

Peeling your tear encrusted lashes apart, your watery gaze pinpointed him the second it was unveiled. Keigo was reclined in his nest in a manner that would befit a spoiled prince, ankles crossed casually and arms planted behind him. Those crimson wings were splayed wide; almost seeming to meld seamlessly with the blankets had they not been so lengthy they stretched beyond them, scimitar shaped feathers fanning out onto the floorboards. The black chevrons on the corners of his eyes somehow seemed even more pronounced in the twilight glow that washed over the room, enhancing the lambent intensity of his yellow irises – a petrifying stare more befitting of a basilisk.

Was he really what they call a siren… or a chimaera masquerading as one?

Regardless, it was in this moment you were adequately reminded of the powerful otherworldliness his kind possessed, and how wise one would be to not forget, as you so foolishly have.

“Good girl,” he praised through a husky timbre, eliciting the swelling voices in your mind to sigh out in bliss. More, more, they begged. “You’re doing so well. Continue.”

And so you did, staring him down as you rid yourself of the last protection of your decency. Your pants slid down your legs like satin over polished steel, crumpling to the floor in a small heap. Like a hollow vessel awaiting the directive of its master, you stood perfectly still as Keigo indulgently took you in.

“My my…” His eyes zeroed on the shining glaze smeared all over the apex of your thighs as a buzzard would a fresh corpse, pupils pinpricked predatorily. “Is that all for me? You coy little thing,” he smiled like a ravening jackal, protruding canines flashing in the dimming light as he wagged an index finger disapprovingly, “acting so put off to my company a moment ago, while hiding a treat like that. It’s naughty to not share, you know.”

You did not like the sound of that implication, but another part of you – a part that was quickly dousing the inferno of your lucidity – certainly did.

Rotating the pad of that finger towards the chandelier that hung above him, his black talon glinting like obsidian as he curled it at you two times, and declared firmly, “Come.”

With that single command, your vision dissolved into static, eyes rolling into the dark vacancy of your head as your legs buckled and collapsed beneath you. You barely had the forethought in using your hands to cushion your fall forward, narrowly preventing you from caving your nose in as you crumpled into a convulsing ball. The sound of your despaired moans peeled out throughout the cabin, much to Keigo’s surprise and delight, as your body was wracked with an earth-shattering, hands-free climax. The first of this scale that you’ve ever had.

"Oops," Keigo titters from his throne of blankets, not sounding remorseful in the absolute slightest while he watched you gasp and writhe. "Goodness, me and my clumsy mouth. I apologize, darling – should have been more specific. Come here, I mean.”

Your insides were still contracting – almost excruciatingly so – as you shakily prepared to upright yourself, but he promptly halted that with a few strict tuts, “Ah-ah, hold on... I think I prefer you like that, actually.”

“Hm, yes…” He hums approvingly, reveling in the sinful display of your degradation, hunched over like a cat in heat; the only thing you were missing was the coiled tail and flattened ears. Quite the lovely contrast to the irritable little brat from earlier, in his opinion. “It suits you. Crawl to me as you are.”

On quivering hands and knees, you crawled. What a sight you must have made, you dimly wondered, whilst the slavering hounds of your psyche yipped and whined the shorter the distance between the two of you became. Did you look as pathetic as you felt, broken and brought to heel with only a few words? Keigo certainly seemed to adore it, cocking his head and smirking like a man who had the world, your world, in the palm of his hand.

Although as of today, it no longer belonged to you.

It felt like an eternity had passed by the time your fingertips sank into the cushiony swathes of velvet he was lounged upon, restlessly rooting for purchase as you drew closer to his feet. Ever considerate, Keigo uncrossed his legs to provide you with an unobstructed path leading directly to his lap, angling them inward to press his knees against your sides as you passed beyond the threshold of them, the fabric of his pants dragging against your exposed flesh as you skulked onward. You seemed to slot together like puzzle pieces, as your torso melded with his lower half almost perfectly.

“That was rude – trying to scamper off like that earlier,” he admonished quietly, lifting a hand to pet your head with a tender fondness. He appeared to take extra care to not lacerate your scalp with his nails as his fingers delved into your hair, toying with your strands almost lovingly. What a conundrum he was, going from vainglorious and wicked to gentle and affectionate in a heartbeat, like an endlessly spiraling coin. “We were bonding, weren't we?”

I suppose, you might have conceded. Until you decided to prove every rumor about your kind was true.

“Everything would have gone smoothly if you weren’t such a tough nut to crack, you know? Lesser minds would have folded from a single word out of my mouth, and they have; they all do, eventually. One way or another—” His fingers burrowed deeper, affixing to your roots and tugging with a wince-inducing pressure. Back to wicked. “…they always cave.”

"But you... oh you,” he chuckled, dragging his hand down to deliver a couple of condescending pats to your cheek. “It seems that you're a special little nut; I've never had to resort to using my saliva." He sneered that word in a way that implied exerting such effort was considered to be beneath him, as though it were some form of cheating in this disturbed game he liked to play, upper lip stretching over his fangs in a contemptuous curl as his digits latched onto your jaw. You stared back at him through misty eyes, unable to even flinch as those knifelike claws began to puncture your skin.

“I may enjoy a challenge, but that was a new low for me. I'll admit, you had me worried for a moment – almost thought it wasn't going to work. Then we really would have had a predicament on our hands, hm?” He pinched your cheeks, smearing your blood as he smooshed them until your lips puckered, nodding your head in orchestrated agreement.

As if he’s suddenly grown bored of playing with you like a doll, Keigo released your face, sighing, “You can speak now, but behave.”

The invisible force keeping your tongue adhered to the roof of your mouth lifted, granting the muscle freedom to move once again. You had no choice words for the vile truths he had just divulged, opting instead to appeal to his sense of mercy – if he had any.

“Pl—Please…” you gulped a thick wad of drool, speech slurring as you looked up at him, hiccupping and sniffing pitiably, “let mm—me go… don’ care ‘bout the treasure any more… jus’ lemme go, please, Kei…”

"Aw, ‘Kei’? How sweet,” he cooed while lifting his unsoiled hand to dab the spittle from your wobbling bottom lip, wrapping his bloodied one around your throat like a loose collar, dragging a thumb over your beating pulse; it fluttered delicately beneath his touch, like a butterfly’s wings. “There's that well-mannered girl from when we first met, but I think we both know it's a little too late for that. It was too late for you the moment you surfaced in this cave – my cave."

So he had been watching you, from the very beginning. It made sense now – that rope which seemingly appeared from nowhere. It was Keigo, leading a trail of breadcrumbs right to himself. For a siren, he truly was rather lazy, when he likely could have snatched you from your rowboat before you even got close to shore.

“Ah… what’s that saying the French say?” Pondering aloud, he withdrew the hand around your throat to tap two fingers on his pursed lips, smudging them with your scarlet essence, before abruptly exclaiming, “Oh! C’est la vie. Everything happens for a reason, no? Such is life and all that…”

“That reminds me,” he says through a scheming smile, staining his tongue with your blood as it laved over his mouth, coating your flavor onto his taste buds. Truly, the nectar of an untouched maiden was unmatched… but he was willing to bet different nectar of yours would soon become his favorite snack yet. If only you knew of all the fun he had in store for you. “Do you want to know what I said earlier, while your pretty little head was filling with air, filling with me?”

Keigo didn’t offer you a chance to respond, snaking the hand that was cupping your face to the back of your head, pressing his fingers against the base of your cranium to anchor you in place as he inclined his own head forward to answer, “The only true language in the world is a kiss. Care for an example?”

“W-Wait,” you whispered, fearing what would come after more than the act itself. If just a little bit of his saliva mixed into your wine made you this useless, this receptive, then what would a dose straight from the source do to you?

“Behave,” he hissed into your parted mouth, snuffing the embers of your disparity before they could gain the fuel to take form. Not that your verbal resistance could even achieve anything, when your body was as pliant as clay beneath his masterful touch. All you could do was whimper as he fused his lips with yours, selfishly condemning you to fall further into a lustful misery with a pleased croon.

“Delicious…” His tone was a gravelly rumble, rolling over your saliva coated lips like a slow flowing magma, scorching them red with hot, bruising pecks. It quickly became insufficient, pulling just your swollen lips between his.

The impatient siren tugged you closer, growling softly as his slick muscle slithered into your panting maw, seeking out the shy appendage hiding behind your teeth. You never once considered that kissing could sound so… lewd, but then again, this couldn’t be rightfully labeled as such. It was like he was eating you alive, sucking on your tongue as though he wished to swallow it down. He was so unbelievably warm that you thought you were melting, unable to discern the rivulets of drool pooling down your chins from your own flesh and sweat, nor could you find where you ended and he begun.

Or perhaps it was just your brain that was melting, oozing out of your ears and down the back of your neck, rather than sweat. You weren’t sure you could even be considered a participant anymore (if you could be called one in the first place), merely attempting to remain conscious as Keigo had his wicked way with you. Even if you could think to breathe through your nose, it would’ve been an impossible feat through the cascade of his sweet, sweet saliva flowing down your gullet. Fractal shapes were dancing on the insides of your eyelids, imprinted everywhere you looked when you attempted to blink the veneer of pinkness from your vision.

What… what was your reason for being here, again? Something about treasure, and freedom… but you just couldn’t quite remember…

Keigo finally detached from you with an obscenely wet smack, breaking the webs of spit bridging the scant space between you two as he leaned back, grinning broadly at your glassy eyed state. He didn’t seem even slightly out of breath, whereas you were breathing like you had rowed the distance from the captain’s ship all over again. Wait – the captain… why did that sound so familiar?

“I would say that was just what I needed, but—” He peeled your damp body from his lap, dragging a path of fire down your sides with his palms until they settled on your hips, effortlessly lifting you into a splayed-out position on top of him as he sunk further onto his back, wings outspread entirely. If you had even a fraction of coherence left, you would have been mortified at how utterly exposed your sex was, dripping so profusely that it was starting to collect within the grooves of his abdominals. “…I'm still a little parched. Mind if I relieve myself between these lovely thighs?”

“Where… are we?” You questioned as though his words went through one ear and out the other, moreso at the foreign voices invading your thoughts rather than the famished creature who was hurriedly hoisting you over its face. Exactly where we need to be, they responded in a resounding chorus. Do not question it; do not fight it. Just be.

Keigo almost forgot to answer, his higher thinking briefly reduced to a crude, primal state of hunger, as he intimately beheld what might have been the most delectable cunt he has ever seen.

“…Heaven, darling.” He managed to utter once he scraped his cognitive function back together, gazing at the glistening apex of you like it held the meaning to his dreadfully prolonged existence. Wrapping the corded bands of his arms around your thighs, Keigo yearned to dig his fingers into the meat of your haunches, to embed you to him by the hooks of his claws. He feared he might never want to surface ever again, once he finally plunged his tongue into your sodden depths. Although that wasn’t such a terrible way to go, suffocating in the rivers of your pleasure. It would be dying how he wished to live: lost between the legs of a ravishing woman.

“Rather, that’s where I’ll be sending you,” he breathed reverently, Adam’s apple bobbing as he huffed your feminine fragrance whilst nuzzling at your mound, stimulating your pulsing clit with the tip of his nose. You keened softly at the teasingly featherlight touch, hypersensitive from artificial lust and going a lifetime without ever tasting true pleasure at the hands of another.

“I wanted you on my mouth from the moment I laid eyes on you… knew it’d be the best cunt I’ve ever had,” he confessed, peering up at you through the cleft of your thighs as he used his tongue to spread your syrupy folds apart, squishing that pink cushion against your weeping entrance. Keigo glowered into your teary eyes as if in threat, like he were a carnivore daring you to deprive him of his hard-earned meal; the extent of his claim over you so severe he was gently scraping his fangs over your puffy lips with salacious possession, tempted to spear into you like a ripened peach.

You felt akin to a newborn, thrust into a terrifying and ruthless world that was beyond your comprehension. Lurching backward, your equilibrium fled from you while you were mercilessly feasted upon from below. You floundered helplessly before your hands flew backward to prevent you from toppling over, slapping onto his solid pectorals as he jerked you downward to keep you properly seated on him. Your head tipped back from enraptured anguish, jaw dropping in sync with Keigo’s as your distressed cries overlapped almost harmoniously with his frustrated, muffled groans. It was as though he simply could not get enough, could not fit enough of you onto his palate without mangling you, as he attempted to seal his lips over the whole of your swollen heat in gluttonous vain.

Well, Keigo wouldn’t be deprived of anything, so he would pursue something he was more than capable of, which was stuffing you with him. A warbling, drawn-out moan accompanied the sensation of his tongue impaling your core like melted butter, burrowing to the absolute brink of your plush, throbbing walls. It was downright bestial, similar to the rest of his defining features – that flexible, serpentine muscle seemingly endless in length…

The arms encasing your thighs rocked you, guiding your hips over his mouth, spreading your narrow slot around his broad tongue. The further it went the more it curled, corkscrewing around itself whilst squirming with an innate precision, prodding against a spongey part of yourself that you hadn’t even known existed. But how could you have known, with those poor little fingers of yours? Such an endearing yet tragic sight it was – your lost look of confusion, as you obliviously hurtled like a speeding comet towards a real climax. The first of so, so many.

Honestly, how had you even managed on your own for so long, without knowing what your body was truly capable of?

Everything was going to be okay, though… because Hawks was here for you now. The sculptor of wills, the subjugator of mortals – here to make it all better. He would give you more pleasure than your young mind could even fathom, until it – until he – was all that you knew. With such a pristine canvas to work with, he would mold you better than any pet he had owned in his centuries of living; his magnum opus was what you would soon become.

It was going to be beautiful. You would be beautiful – more than you already were. Oh, how fortunate he was to have you delivered right to him.

The moment his tongue stroked your upper wall, digging against the tender springiness of doughy muscle with malicious pressure, the world around you ignited in a flickering brightness. You had sincerely believed that it was a direct response to the utter euphoria coursing through you, setting the fabric of reality ablaze. Even as the cabin returned to its gloaming dimness, your vision remained stained in white. The only explanation for the thundering boom resounding from above was because of your quaking heartbeat, shaking the whole of the earth itself. Despite your gaping mouth, you were incapable of producing a sound, merely choking air down in gasping intervals.

The sound of him thrusting into you, however, was noisy – obscene. It finally receded after a couple of thorough pumps, the snakelike organ slipping through your squeezing confines and pulling out with thick strings of slick attached to it, rolling in dollops onto his chin when they succumbed to the pull of gravity.

“Fuck,” he huffed into your twitching cunt, bathing it in a balmy wash of his hot, hot breath. “I’ve never tasted a pussy so sweet… I don't think I'll ever get enough – I'm going to suck you dry.”

True to his intention, he merged his glossy lips with yours, faint clicks coming from beneath you as he kissed your sex in a vulgar imitation of what he had previously done to your mouth. He smeared your honey upward, carving a messy path through your labia to the poor, neglected nub sitting on the peak of your mound. Keigo pulled it into his mouth, nursing on it sweetly, as though in apology. His appetite for you truly was limitless, considering he seemed loath to separate his face from your bottom half yet.

You weren’t sure how your life force hasn’t already been drained from you entirely, with how ravenous he was for your lust – a result of some sort of aphrodisiac he produced naturally, surely. One might think him completely heedless to his own lust, content to siphon arousal off you like you were his personal reservoir, until an arm uncoiled from your thighs to travel down the hard planes of his stomach, dipping beneath his waistband where something stiff was trapped. As if spurred by its counterpart, his other arm unwound from you as well, splayed fingers dragging up your belly to seize one of your heaving breasts.

With nothing to support your lower extremities, the brunt of your weight was pressed onto his mouth, but it hardly seemed like an issue for Keigo, unbothered and merrily slurping away as his hands played with both you and himself.

Tentatively, you heeded the whispers suggesting you to remove one hand from his chest, to slide your digits into his flaxen locks and fasten them there. Keigo purred in approval, aiding your undulating movements with the eager nodding of his head. Now you were getting it; his sweet little scholar was learning so fast. An unearthly ardor swam in his golden eyes, almost appearing incandescent as he fed from you, fed off the palpable need he was inciting within your body. He could feel it approaching before even you could – the orgasm filling the engorged bundle trapped between his lips.

Raw sensation was becoming the only thing you could understand, pleasure the only language you could remotely articulate. The dusty residue of carefully amassed knowledge, trinkets of tucked away memories, were all swept away in but a blink as your mind, body, and soul was swallowed into a maelstrom of bliss. Keigo was all you could perceive, and all you could feel.

And he would make sure it stayed that way; he wouldn’t let you slip through his fingers like he had with the last one…

The neurons in your brain sputtered shortly, crackling like livewires as you gushed over his swirling tongue, over the lower half of his face. The sound of gulping could be heard, Keigo trying his damnedest to catch the majority of your juices. Only once he deemed you adequately spent did he finally unseal his mouth from your cunt, a deeply satisfied exhale accompanying its separation.

“I could just eat you up for hours, but I think I’ll save that for another time… make a proper day of it, you know?” He laughs cruelly, sending your fluttering folds off with one last, teasing puff of air before halting his hands from their self-indulgent activities to resituate you over his lap.

“Now I want you to ride me – just like you did my face.” He licked the shiny glaze from his devilish smile, indifferent to the remnants that beaded off his jaw as he caressed his palms up and down the trembling thighs that straddled his own. “Think you can do that for me, pretty girl?”

You couldn’t recall who this being lying beneath you was before now, nor did you know what he meant by those confusing words... but you did know that he was capable of making you feel things – such nice, wonderful things... so why should you not listen to him?

With a demure nod, you grabbed onto the divots of his hips, and began to rub yourself against the tautly stretched fabric of the hard bulge he had placed you on. Keigo chuckled, taken with the adorable naiveté newly instilled within you.

“Oh, you sweet, silly thing,” he cooed fondly, giving your legs a playful yet immobilizing squeeze. “I might've overdone it… seems I’ve sucked your brain out of that pussy too, hm?”

You gazed down at him in confusion at his stilling of your movements. Weren’t you doing exactly as he asked? This was the same thing you had done to his face… wasn’t it?

“Here, let me help you a little.”

Holding your gaze firm, his biceps hardly quivered as he lifted you high enough into the air to lift his hips. What happened next would have been something you could only describe as a figment of your imagination, had you not already been poised over an entity whose existence alone confirmed reality was no longer what you made of it.

…or formerly made, one should say.

Two streaks of red darted through the air, zipping and whizzing around your form as unidentifiable blurs until they flitted under you toward Keigo’s waistband, which was where they settled. You realized they were feathers – the very same that belonged to the imposingly large, outstretched appendages extending from his back – moving autonomously despite the laws of physics, or practicality for that matter.

Such things weren’t much of a concern to you anymore, though. You observed in dewy-eyed wonderment as the plumes pulled down his pants like dutiful, disembodied hands. His stiff length slapped onto his belly with a heavy smack, dribbling his own sticky desire onto his skin. Naturally, it was flawless like the rest of Keigo, being neither too excessive nor modest in both length and width, tantalizing yet intimidating in design due to how shaped for pleasure it appeared to be.

Your mouth watered at how rosy and swollen the head was, peeking through a sheath of tight foreskin from which it was visibly desperate to be released, and practically overflowing with pearls of pre.

So spellbound you were by his gorgeous cock that you’d all but forgotten about the independently thinking, gravity-defying feathers, until they suddenly flattened to your waist after discarding his pants, spiraling up your torso and leading a trail of goosebumps to your collarbones. Keigo lowered you back onto him while those little red hellions returned to his sprawled wings, emitting a raspy sigh at the feel of your pussy lips pressing against his achingly full balls like soft, squishy pillows.

Simply unable to resist, he rolled his hips against yours, sliding the underside of his shaft through your soppy folds. You caught on quick – at least to those telling twinges you felt deep in your gut, an enkindling of wanting warmth that only his touch seemed to appease. Your cunt chased after him, greedily humping his cock until it glistened with a generous coating of spit-mixed slick. Oh gods, that feeling was back already…

You whimpered pathetically, afraid that you will have to live with this ungodly burning inside of you until it eventually consumes you from the inside, consumes you until you literally expire. Make it better… he’ll make it all better… won’t he?

“What a needy mess I’ve turned you into. Tell me, does my needy girl want it inside?”

“Yes,” you almost couldn’t wait for him to finish speaking to pipe up, voice brittle from the unbearable yearning that was charring your innards to a crisp. “I—I want it, please…”

If Keigo managed to look any smugger, his neck might’ve snapped from his head’s overinflated weight. The satisfaction that he exuded was palpable, trailing off him in waves as he leered at you domineeringly despite the submissive, vulnerable nature of his position. Clearly, he did not need to rely on physicality alone to express his authority, with a pervasive influence residing in every nuance of his being. Keigo truly was something nature would deem as an alpha, in every sense of the word.

“By all means – help yourself. It’s yours now.”

Was it cruel to hand you the reigns when you were unknowingly moments from breaking the seal of your virginity on his hard, impure cock? Perhaps a little. Was it unjust to invite you to claim your own gratification, despite knowing once you were pumped with his seed, there wouldn’t be a crumb of a possibility to recovering the identity you once had?

Not in Keigo’s eyes.

Although, to be fair… Keigo was what parents would describe to their children during bedtime stories as a monster – a grotesque boogeyman squeezed inside of an angelic skinsuit.

So monstrous he apparently was, that even his own kind deemed it necessary in casting him out, finding his methods of sating himself via an “imprisoned” victim beyond reproach. Personally, he saw them all as spoiled, brain-dead hypocrites. He wouldn’t have to resort to such extremes if females weren’t already such a rarity to encounter amongst sailors, and he’d rather pluck his own feathers than follow his species’ customs by ending the life of every catch after their “use” has been fulfilled – an act of mercy, they claimed it to be. Exile be damned, if there was one thing Keigo loved more than indulging in the most sinful of vices this world has to offer—

It was shaping waifs like you into his permanent, cross-eyed fucktoys. That was what he called proper mercy.

And how unfortunate for you… encountering him when he was beyond due for a new one.

It truly took everything within him not to gorge his talons into your hindquarters and ruthlessly skewer you onto his cock, to not buck into the cozy warmth of your snug little pocket as you prepared to mount him. Difficult as it was, Keigo needed to remain patient, to keep this moment special – because he deserved this. He deserved you.

…almost as much as he deserved to drill that lush pussy within a hairsbreadth of tearing straight through to the clutch your womb, but all good things come to those who wait… right?

Right, he chanted in a looping mantra, splitting his bottom lip beneath a gnashing canine while your velvety folds bloomed around his head, clit catching on the angry flare of his glans. Patience, Keigo – patience.

“A little lower, darling… you’re almost there.” His whispered words strained through clenched teeth, carrying a feigned lilt of sweetness. It seemed there was a delay with your response time, seeing as you continued to drag the slippery peaks of your sexes together with a lidded, dreamy haze clouding your eyes. Thankfully, Keigo’s whittled restraint didn’t have a chance to fully unravel, once that subtle order finally managed to pierce the heavy fog surrounding your brain. A breathy mewl rolled off your partially exposed tongue, at the audible pop of his blunt head squeezing past the tight ring of your opening.

It was good that he prepared you somewhat when he was eating you inside out, not that it was needed due to his own elixir surging through your system, but teasing your cunt with the pleasure of being filled was certainly paying its respects now.

“There we go,” he hissed, head dropping and lashes fluttering at the rhythmic gripping of your insides. You little minx, getting off on inserting just the tip of his cock. Were you even aware of anything beyond that dumb, blank stare? Have you already reached the point where the tiniest of sensations fed into one long, ceaseless climax? If not, he would be sending you there very soon. It was quite possibly his favorite part, watching his playthings devolve into a slave of feeling, plummeting for the first time into that pit of bottomless rhapsody.

Keigo growled, a guttural foulness clinging to his once silvery inflection, as he openly mocked you while your drenched heat slowly enveloped him, “I haven't even put it in halfway and you’re already trying to milk me dry. Poor thing… so sensitive.” So much for being sweet – women like you truly weren’t aware of the power they held between their legs, how it could reduce even a specimen of Keigo’s level to a borderline primitive state.

Unaware of the pink lines you were scratching down his flexed abdominals, your jaw fell more slack at the heavenly burn of his girth prying you open, your eyes unseeing as raw sensation once again took you over irrevocably. You could actually feel it – his sheath sliding with the wet suction of your muscles, his drooling head paving a sloppy path up, up, and up. It was divine… he was divine – immaculate – in every aspect possible.

Your cunt was your voice of veneration, oozing its praise down the rigid column of flesh spearing it all the way through in a torturously languid glide. Perspiration coated your forehead, trickling past your furrowed brows and beading off the tip of your nose as you gradually sunk onto him, sinking and sinking onto that instrument of hedonism until it couldn’t go any further. An airy exhale fled your lungs, at the feeling of him nudging against the pappy padding of your cervix, two mouths of opposing design kissing each other for first time – but undoubtedly not the last.

Tonguing the blood that dribbled off his bared fangs, Keigo sneered as though the vision of debauchery hungrily engulfing his cock – like it were the very sustenance for your survival – disgusted him; but of course, it was quite the opposite.

“I think this pussy does want to be filled up… y’hear that?” He’s given up on handling you delicately, it seems, the addictive quality of your freshly broken in sex unearthing the animalistic calling to pin a cornered mate down, to rut into their presented slit like a prize fairly won. His fingers finally succumbed to that incessant itch to dig into your hips, fulfilling the inevitability that was lifting you up and down like a ragdoll molded for his pleasure. Those deadly nails punctured your skin just as they had your face, inviting bloody tracks to trail over the curve of your ass and thighs. The pain only made you moan harder.

“Yeah,” he moaned throatily, delighting in the filthy symphony of your merging bodies, the squelching collisions of your cunt swallowing him up while smacking against his tightening scrotum. Admittedly, he wasn’t fighting his breakneck descent into flooding you with a severely backed-up release, but it wasn’t as if you weren’t contributing with how zealously you were wringing him out, strangling him for everything he had. “She’s beggin’ for it…”

How disappointing, an echo of your former self lamented, fractured and left to fade within a forgotten alcove of your rapidly shrinking mind. How demeaning, being reduced to nothing but an extension of what was between your legs, a mere ornament for a wanton beast to hang off its cock. She hated this, and she hated you – this lust drunk stranger who spoke with her voice, sniveling in assent to the despicable filth spewing from this despicable brute. It didn’t matter that none of this was your choice, didn’t matter that you were essentially a blank slab he was chiseling into a shape of his own nefarious design – you were a pathetic disappointment… but then again, so was she, for leading her depressing life to such a depressing conclusion. Pathetic and fitting.

“P—Pl—” Stammering like a fool, you were barely of the mental capacity to even control your tongue beyond hanging it out like a useless bitch in heat, barely able to wrangle the single functioning brain cell ricocheting around in your skull with every guided bounce on his lap.

“Aw, what’s that? Kitty wants some milk after all?”

Don’t you dare say it, you traitor. Don’t you fucking—

“Please!” you gasped in a rush, finally finding a modicum of wherewithal to speak your wishes coherently, despite not having the faintest clue as to what he was really saying. Fill you up was all you had heard, but it was enough to send your system into high alert, igniting a carnal need for more. Even stretched to your capacity, you still felt like something was missing… somewhere just beyond the gummy barrier that his tip was repeatedly mashing into, as though it shared the same desire as you. It felt empty there – so very, very empty.

“Look at you, asking so nicely.” His pitch deepened, thick with cloying praise, bloodied lips spreading roguishly as another thickness of his spread you so impeccably that your eyes were on the verge of crossing. Fill us, fill us, the voices hymned in unison – so loud they were that it no longer felt like they were confined to your mind, instead floating freely amongst the space around you. “Well, whatever my sweet pet wants… she gets.”

Keigo’s hips snapped upward, meeting you halfway between jerking yours down. The veins webbing through his arms were prominent from strain, moreso of refraining from utilizing the strength to slam you onto his engorged length with enough force to shatter your pelvis, rather than overuse. A few cuts and bruises were unavoidable, but he couldn’t afford to completely break another toy. Although, that was somewhat part of the charm of you humans, he thought adoringly – the fragility of your supple, ephemeral forms. For what made a flower so lovely, if not how fleeting and feeble the season of its life was?

And yet – with the utter decadence that was you, that was the downright celestial embrace of your homely little cunt – Keigo found himself strangely at odds with the realization that, eventually, you too would wither and fade with time. How curious, considering out of his many companions, and knowing you for all of an hour, he feels so entirely resistant to the idea. Like this cave, this boat, and his decidedly unjust sentence of banishment… he wants your existence to be just as indefinite.

Viscid, molten pleasure was flowing all over his organs, pooling in the funnel of his gut and amassing within the bubbling well that was his imminent climax. Seeming to sense it coming as much as he had, perhaps within the sporadic twitching of his balls or from the glaze that fogged his eyes over, you surrendered yourself wholly to his control, body going lax for his unbridled use.

Faster than even your sober mind could have comprehended, you were flipped onto your back and suspended from your lower half by Keigo’s firm, iron-gripped hold in one fell swoop. It took more than a few seconds for your eyes to catch up and adjust, practically rolling around in their sockets from the jarringly speedy change of perspective, and from being rutted into like you were a damned closed fist. All the while, Keigo helped himself to your exquisitely messy heat, slamming into you with the sole intent to releasing the brimming load that had his cock fit to fucking burst.

Cool gusts of air caressed your overheated figure, alleviating a portion of the dizzying feverishness that prevented you from reclaiming your bearings. You blinked slowly, bleary gaze following the slanted line of your rocking body to the one that was pummeling into it, somehow becoming mesmerized with the sight of his lean physique rippling and rolling over the spectacle of those grand wings beating synchronically with his thrusts.

Clutching your hips tighter, Keigo pulled you onto him with such an aggressive urgency that the sound of his thighs clapping against your ass was practically wince inducing.

“…Gonna pamper this cunt every fucking day, for the rest of your sad little life,” he rambled gruffly, sweat-damp hair falling from its sweptback style as his head canted forward. He stared vacantly at the sloppy intermingling of your sexes, at the foamy slathering of your combined fluids that covered his cock, appearing with a fresh coating at each frantic withdrawal from your pussy. Sucking in a shaky breath, he hissed harshly at the sight, “B-Breed you over and over... keep you all—unh—swollen an’ tender…”

“Oh, oh fuck—” As if those incorrigible vows alone were the key to releasing the floodgates, he panted and shuddered, wings nearly touching the ceiling as they shot out behind him. He threw his head back within the same motion, mouth ajar as he legitimately whined, too consumed in the sensation of his release jetting from his tip in fat spurts to even care.

You instantly fell apart at the seams, a chain reaction triggered from his own concentrated lust flooding your insides, from the tangible pressure of it spraying against your cervix almost endlessly. Pure rapture radiated down to the marrow in your bones, cracking open to the very nucleus of your cells. You did not just feel born anew – you felt reincarnated, baptized and reshaped in the incinerated remains of the woman you had once been. Unsullied no longer, and unbound nevermore.

You looked upon the world with new eyes, vision overturned from being raised so vertically by your spread legs that only your head remained cushioned by soft bedding. A plaintive, exhausted sound left you, too many visuals and feelings that you couldn’t yet fathom bombarding your senses.

“Mine…” A masculine voice whispered above you, brushing its warmth up your body while apologetic hands lowered you gingerly, returning your listless form to a horizontal position. Rubbing fondly over the slight distension of your achingly stuffed belly. The voice’s owner followed you closely, ensuring you remained glued together by your sticky cores as they settled on top of you, acting as a shield from any dangers or distractions.

Perception finally clarifying, you gazed at the being who was buried within you, branding their hushed declarations of ownership onto your skin while petting your shivering frame with a soothing gentleness.

Beautiful, was the first word to come to mind, the first coherent thought you could gather. This had to have been the afterlife, because such unequivocal divinity could not rightfully exist wherever you had come from. What, you wondered, could you have possibly done in your previous life to earn such holy company?

Perceiving the sparse illumination bending around his head as a halo, rather than an abstract reflection from the crystalline fixture looming over him, you questioned with sincere softness, “Are you an angel?”

"…No," he declined through a benign smile, despite the seraphic appendages that stretched behind him, seeming to absorb the final wisps of light that bled through the gaps of his feathers as the cloak of night finally descended upon the two of you.

ㅤ

“I am your God.”

ㅤ

ㅤ

ㅤ

Two hours after sundown…

ㅤ

“C-Captain?”

Large fingers clutching the neck of an equally sizable bottle of rum froze midair, pausing their pursuit of tipping its contents into their disgruntled owner’s mouth. The man in question placed the glass container on his desk with a heavy thump, annoyance visible on his rugged features as he directed that frosty stare at the one who was intruding upon his private time. Of course, it was one of the newer recruits; the others knew better than to just barge in when something required his attention. He may be a pirate, but he prides himself on having at least basic manners.

“What?” His tone was harsh, snapping like a bullwhip. He’s had a really fucking long day, so this runt had better get to the point quick or he would be given a proper reason to shiver in his boots.

The young crewmate hovering in his doorway was soaked head to toe, dripping wet from toiling away on the main deck amidst the tempest that was raging outside, battering loudly against his windows. He looked like he was one skipped meal from being carried off by a gentle breeze, so it was something of a wonder that he’d been holding his own in all that turbulent chaos, the captain will give him that.

“It—It's him, sir. He's here."

Ah, so that’s why he looked as though he had seen a ghost. Looks like the others hadn’t clued him in on their expected guest of the evening until it was a little too late – poor sap evidently had the scare of his life just a moment prior.

“…Send him in.”

A light, chipper voice immediately interjected from beyond the cracked door, “No need! I can see myself in, thanks champ.”

The scrawny youth didn’t waste a second in making himself scarce, vanishing on hurried footsteps as a taller, winged figure slipped through the vacant entryway.

“Boy,” the blonde newcomer whistled, flicking the droplets that clung to his feathers while running a hand through his drenched mane, slicking a few errant pieces back into place. “It’s really comin’ down out there, huh?”

If looks could kill, he would have keeled over onto the floor right about now.

“It's about damn time you showed up, Hawks.” The captain’s gaze was bone chilling, rife with contempt despite the familiarity of which he spoke that name. “My men and I have been sitting on our asses in this fucking storm while you've been getting your cock wet."

Having the audacity to rub the back of his neck in a sheepish display, Keigo chuckled lightheartedly, “Sorry-sorry. I admit I, uh, got a tad carried away… lost track of time.”

“To say the least,” the captain muttered dryly, rolling those pale eyes as he clambered onto his feet, rounding his desk to regard the shorter male properly. Despite his significant disadvantage in height, Keigo didn’t seem the least bit intimidated, looking up at the behemoth of a man with a lazy, carefree smile. "I take it your new pet is to your liking?"

“Oh, she's a delight.” Flickering candlelight cought in his irises, giving them a mirror-like shine. Contrasting with that eerie sheen in his stare, he sighed like a love-struck maiden, “Really made me work for it, too. You’ve outdone yourself this time, my friend. Where did you find such a delectable thing?”

“On my ship, of all places,” the captain scoffed, crossing his burly forearms, “foolish girl thought she could hide in the bilge. Perhaps she was seeking unpaid passage to another capital – she refused to say. I didn’t give a damn to interrogate her on the matter; who she was and what she was after makes no difference to me, as long as my pockets are getting filled.��� He spoke in a clipped tone, clearly unable to care less about the topic.

“Ahh, so that’s what she meant by ‘sticking her nose where it didn’t belong’. My,” Keigo snickered, shaking his head before glancing at the rattling windows – at the stygian darkness that lied beyond them – with a smirk, “what rotten luck, thrust from one cage to another...”

The larger man sighed loudly, visibly running out of patience. This siren has always been unbearably chatty. “Are we done here? I would like my payment as we agreed upon, and to get away from that shit-hole rock you call home before my boat sinks.”

“Aw, don’t act like such a stranger, old friend. I always make these trips worth your while, don’t I?” In spite of his petulant expression, the blonde procured a hefty pouch seemingly out of thin air, filling the cramped cabin with the sound of jingling coins as he tossed it upward in idle repetition.

“It’s the only reason why I tolerate your presence as much as I do, friend,” the blue-eyed man sneered, his mounting ire very nearly emerging as puffing smoke from his flared nostrils. Years of dealing with this irksome pigeon granted him the willpower to not act on the impulse of snatching that sack of leather out of the air like a petty child. "And do try your best to make her last longer than the previous one. I'm not getting any younger, and these little excursions are beginning to become more trouble than they're worth.”

Keigo grinned, sharp canines amongst a perfect set of incisors gleaming in the dim light, “Don’t worry – I intend to make her last.”

“…Shame your kind has such a limited time on this earth, though,” he adds on an afterthought, catching the pouch a final time before rotating and squeezing it with his clawed digits, scrutinizing the captain like one would an ant – with a detached fascination. “I doubt I’ll find one as lovely as her after she goes, nor such an effective errand boy like you for a good long while...”

“Tch.” The captain’s upper lip curled, distaste written across his grizzled visage. Any lesser man regarding him in such a manner would’ve had their neck snapped before that sentence was through. The demon known as Hawks was a necessary exception, unfortunately; he could sniff malicious intent the moment of its manifestation, and punish it in kind in the same breath. “I always forget your true age with that mug of yours.”

Preening with a blatant narcissism that could only be earned through decades upon decades of successfully exploiting it for his own benefit, Keigo bellows out a musical laugh, “It certainly is a face to be envious of, isn’t it? Done me a lot of favors over the years, it has.”

Exhaling wearily, the captain extends an arm, palm upturned in expectation. “Just give me my money already.”

“Struck a nerve, did I? Alright, alright—” A flick of his wrist sent the pouch sailing through the air, landing in the other man’s hand with effortless precision. Even his heavily muscled arm sunk slightly beneath the impact of its compact weight. “Pleasure working with you, as always.”

"Likewise. Now get the hell off my ship."

His ever-present smile the last thing that brawny male saw, Keigo saluted mockingly whilst spinning toward the exit, sashaying across the room with leisured grace.

“Aye-aye, captain.”

Returning to his seat, the captain didn’t spare a moment in dumping his spoils over the surface of his desk, intent on counting every last coin to ensure his endeavors were sufficiently recompensed. Hawks never skimped on his payments, which was admittedly one of his few respectable traits, but it was still a habit the seasoned pirate couldn’t quite break in a long life of cutthroat dealings.

“Oh, by the way…”

With a sharp inhale, he slowly looked upward, settling that withering glare on the siren lingering outside his open doorway. A pelting downpour of rain showered upon him, streams of water cascading off the angular edges of his profile, dripping off the full lashes shielding the single yellow eye directed his way.

“How's that strapping eldest of yours?” he questioned innocently, although the slyness that clung to his words conveyed their real intent quite clearly. “Touya, was it? He ever consider taking after the... family business?”

The captain’s steely features did not betray his emotions, but his terse dismissal might as well have been transparent as glass.

“Goodbye, Hawks.”

Huffing in amusement, Keigo turned that prying stare away without further inquiry. Blackened skies flashed and flickered, illuminating his turning form, the vibrant shade of those scarlet plumes, and the area around him long before the deafening roar of thunder arrived. Considering the conversation officially concluded, the captain’s gaze returned to the pile of gold strewn out before him, but that smooth voice beckoned for his attention a final time.

“So long, Enji.”

Yet, when he had glanced up in irritation, his sight was met with an empty doorway.