#content warning: disembodied human heart

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

1968 [Chapter 8: Demeter, Goddess Of The Harvest]

Series Summary: Aemond is embroiled in a fierce battle to secure the Democratic Party nomination and defeat his archnemesis, Richard Nixon, in the presidential election. You are his wife of two years and wholeheartedly indoctrinated into the Targaryen political dynasty. But you have an archnemesis of your own: Aemond’s chronically delinquent brother Aegon.

Series Warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, character deaths, New Jersey, age-gap relationships, drinking, smoking, drugs, pregnancy and childbirth, kids with weird Greek names, historical topics including war and discrimination, math.

Word Count: 6.2k

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Is it a story worth telling? I think so. It’s better than nothing. It’s better than watching raindrops slither down the cracked concrete walls until the prison guards come back to bloody us again.

Today I’m sending John McCain taps in the shape of the tale of Io. John has a hard time tapping back—they’re doing something to his shoulders, they’re destroying him—but he likes to listen. He’s getting it a lot worse than I am; perhaps even the North Vietnamese fear Aemond’s retribution if I die here. They should be afraid of him. He thinks he owns everything he touches, and he’ll snap bones to keep it.

So anyway, Io was a king’s daughter, a mortal who Zeus saw and wanted and took when her father kicked her out to avoid the god’s wrath. That’s easily half of Greek mythology, right? Zeus appears, irrevocably fucks up someone’s life, vanishes in a plume of clouds and thunder. He leaves human rubble behind him: ribs, nerves, disembodied hearts that leak blood from torn ventricles, minds broken in two. Zeus impregnated Io and then turned her into a cow to hide her from his wife Hera, ever-watchful, ever-vengeful, an aspiring mass murderess. When this disguise failed, Hera condemned Io to wander ceaselessly through the wilderness, tormented by the constant stinging of a gadfly. Eventually, Zeus returns Io to human form and she pops out a few bastard kids, as if Zeus needs any more of those. Then he ditches her and she marries some Egyptian dude. There are other details that I’ve forgotten. I don’t think John McCain will know the difference.

I’m sure you’re wondering how I acquired all this fabled trivia. I don’t seem like the type to lie around under trees reading folklore from religions that died thousands of years ago. You’re right, I’m not. But Aemond is. He would tell the stories, and Helaena would embroider scenes on quilts for us to burrow under in the winter, and I would dramatically act out the best parts (mostly murders), and Aegon would scribble comics in jagged black pen strokes. He has all these notebooks down in the basement filled with his new versions of ancient myths: Poseidon as a horny dolphin, Aphrodite as Marilyn Monroe.

Wait, I remember what I skipped. While Io was roaming across the globe, she bumped into Prometheus—chained to a rock for giving humans the gift of fire—and he cheered her up somehow. I guess meeting a guy who gets his liver continuously chewed out by a giant eagle would make me more appreciative of my circumstances too.

I have a lot of time to myself here in solitary confinement. My social circle is microscopic. I tap to John through the wall, I have dinner dates with Tessarion the rat. And I think about my family. They’re fucked up, but I miss them. I miss going to Monmouth Park with Fosco to bet on horse races, I miss getting hammered with Aegon while he sings Johnny Cash or Beatles songs. I miss my mother and Helaena and Criston. I even miss Aemond’s wife, though I only met her a few times before I deployed. She’s sharp, she’s hilarious. She’s mean as hell to Aegon, and sometimes he deserves it.

At first I wondered why Aemond hasn’t gotten me out yet, but I understand now. It sounds a lot better to have a brother being tortured as a prisoner of war than one who received a Get Out Of Jail Free card. It’s the kind of thing Aemond would consider. He understands which stories are worth telling.

I feel kind of bad for her. Aemond’s wife, I mean.

I don’t think she knows about Alys.

~~~~~~~~~~

On a chilly mid-September morning cloaked in fog, Mimi is laid to rest in the Targaryen family mausoleum at Saint George Greek Orthodox Cemetery in Asbury Park, New Jersey. Most of the golden plaques already have names chiseled into them: Viserys and Alicent, Fosco and Helaena. Aegon will one day be interred beside his wife. You have a spot reserved next to Aemond. All of you have already lived and died and been entombed; all of this was predestined by the stars eons before you had blood or bones.

Ari’s vault—an unnaturally tiny drawer, less than half the size of anyone else’s—is located just above yours. You can’t stop staring at it. You can’t hear anything the bearded priest in his black robes is chanting. Then Cosmo squeezes your hand and you look down at him. Mimi’s other children are somber but seem to be coping well enough—they are used to being raised by consensus, they would probably be more affected if one of the nannies died—but Cosmo always wants to be near you. He gazes up with those vast, wet, murky blue eyes, so much like Aegon’s, and you offer him a sad, reassuring smile. Cosmo smiles back. And you think: Life goes on.

Alicent is sniffling noisily; it echoes off the walls of the mausoleum. Criston—a man with no plaque assigned to him—is trying to console her. Aegon is watching you from across the cold granite chamber, grim and red-eyed in his black suit, the first time you can remember seeing him in one since your wedding. He wears no small gold hoops, only a row of stitches in his right ear. He wants to say something, to do something, but he can’t. Aemond is beside you, a hand heavy on your waist but muttering something to Otto. Back in Omaha, Otto had spent a few hours alone with the medical examiner, and when the death certificate was issued it revealed that Mimi died of a heart defect, a perfectly blameless sort of misfortune, an innate impending disaster. And so that’s what the newspapers printed, and any gossip to the contrary is confined to salacious rumors, untrustworthy and unproven.

When the ceremony is over, journalists are waiting to scavenge for photos and quotes under the guise of expressing their sympathies. It’s a shameless display, though they at least have the decency to wait by the cemetery gates. Aemond and Otto go to meet them. Alicent, Criston, Helaena, and Fosco, protective of the children, keep them far away from the feeding frenzy, hungry-eyed reporters like sharks without fins. Ludwika is reapplying her lipstick. Aegon is smoking a Lucky Strike and talking to his oldest son, Orion, a stilted exchange that holds the promise of turning warm with time.

You sit on a stone bench and Cosmo curls up beside you, rests his head in your lap, dozes off as you thread your fingers through his wavy blonde hair. In the mist there are shadows of gravestones and trees that turn skeletal as they shed their leaves.

“He is okay?” Fosco says as he ambles over, meaning Cosmo. He has his hands in the pockets of his slim black trousers that stop at his ankles. His suit is velvet, his eyeglasses speckled with drizzle from the slate-grey sky.

“He’s alright. He’s resting. Are you okay?”

“Oh,” Fosco sighs mournfully. “I keep thinking someone is missing. We came into this family together, Mimi and I. We got married six months apart. I have never had to do this without her. And I know she had her problems, but she was different when she was younger. She always liked a party, that’s why she and Aegon got along so well at first. But she was so loud and so funny, always telling these long stories, and everyone in the room would be grinning as they waited for the good part. Viserys loved her. Otto loved her. And then she had all those children one after the other, and that was hard, and Aegon self-destructed when he was the mayor of Trenton, and that was worse, and she was supposed to fix him and she couldn’t, the harder she tried the farther he ran from her. She started drinking her Gimlets before dinner, and then after lunch, and by the time you showed up it was never ending. But that wasn’t who she really was. She was like a moon that got smaller and smaller until the only thing left was a sliver.”

This family breaks people. This family kills people. “We’ll make ossi dei morti for Mimi tonight. I’ll help you, and we can teach the kids.”

Fosco smiles, swipes a tear from beneath his glasses, squeezes your shoulder with one wiry hand. “I am very glad you are still here.”

“I’m not trying to race you to that mausoleum.”

Fosco laughs. And then he says as he spies Aegon approaching: “Um…I will go avoid the paparazzi somewhere else.”

“You don’t have to leave, Fosco.”

“It is no trouble. And I suspect you enjoy your very rare privacy.” Fosco gives you a knowing glace and then heads back to where Helaena, Alicent, and Criston are lingering with the rest of the children. Now Ludwika is fluffing her blonde curls with her French tips, a smoldering Camel cigarette tucked between two fingers.

Aegon comes to you through the mist, plops onto the bench, and looks fondly down at Cosmo—now fast asleep, his face smooth and peaceful—before he speaks. “I can’t grasp that she’s really gone. We barely spoke for years, but she was always there, you know? Christ, she deserved better than this. She could have been happy somewhere else.”

“Your children need you.” It’s not the first time you’ve said it, but it’s the first time he believes you. He nods, staring out into the fog. “They have to get away from this whole circus for a while. And you have to learn how to be a real parent.”

“I’ll have time to work on it. I’m staying here. I’ve already been informed.”

You are alarmed. “What? By who?”

“Aemond and Otto.” Aegon says. “When the rest of you fly west, my kids and I will be at Asteria.”

“They’re getting you off the campaign trail,” you realize.

“They’re putting me on house arrest.”

Not seeing Aegon, not being near him? How long can I stand that? “I’m sure you’re relieved. You hate the grandstanding and the media.”

He shakes his head, running his fingers through his hair. “I don’t want to leave you alone.”

“I won’t be alone. I have Fosco and Ludwika.”

“I’ll talk to them.”

“About what?”

“About the fact that they need to look out for you.”

“Aegon, I’ve been doing the political wife thing for over two years.”

“But it’s different now.”

He’s right, it is.

“You’ll call, won’t you?” he asks. “You’ll let me know how the trip is going, you’ll tell me if anything bad happens? Because I can always get on a plane and meet you wherever you are. Otto might pay someone to murder me, but I’d risk it.”

“Of course I’ll call.”

“Hey.” Gently, he turns your face so you can’t hide from him. “Will you be okay without me?”

I have to be. I don’t have a choice. Instead you reply: “I’ll miss the weed.”

The tension breaks and Aegon smiles, and then he pats your cheek twice with his open palm. “Behave yourself.” He waves Ludwika over, interrupting her meditative chain smoking.

“What, what?” Ludwika says. “Are we leaving soon? Yes, it is so sad what happened to Mimi, but us standing around in the rain won’t resurrect her. And I look terrible in black.”

“I can’t be there for the last leg of the campaign.” Aegon points to you. “I need you to pay attention and check in with her at least a few times a day.”

“This is a common request. I should get a degree in it so I can charge people.”

Aegon furrows his brow at her. “What are you talking about?”

Ludwika smirks as she puffs on her Camel. “You are not the first person to ask me to keep an eye on her.” She nods subtly towards Aemond, then sashays off to give a quote to the journalists.

~~~~~~~~~~

In San Diego, Aemond meets with residents of a new public housing complex to hear their concerns about neighborhood jobs and infrastructure. In San Jose, he visits labor activist Caesar Chavez—being treated for debilitating back pain at O’Connor Hospital—and expresses support for the ongoing boycott of all grapes produced in the state. In Sacramento, he attends a Jimi Hendrix concert and receives a standing ovation from the audience; the next day he joins high school students protesting for a more inclusive curriculum. In Oregon, he makes a speech at Portland State University acknowledging the tremendous cost of the Vietnam War—in money, in time, in blood—and pledges to begin dismantling U.S. involvement as soon as he is sworn into office in January. Aemond talks about hope and despair, the bleak reality and the American Dream, and he is so overwhelmed by the crowd that he doesn’t even notice when someone takes his cufflinks as souvenirs. His lack of concern for his own safety exasperates Criston, but Aemond can’t be convinced to increase his security or his distance. If he expects the disaffected masses to carry him to the White House, he has to be real to them.

“What if another Wallace supporter tries to shoot you?” Criston demands. “What if a Nixon stooge stabs you or a crowd tramples you?”

“No one can kill me,” Aemond says, grinning wryly. “I’m not supposed to die yet. I’m supposed to be the president. It is God’s will.” And how can anybody disagree when that appears to be so true?

The earth dies as you drive north, summer withering into autumn. That familiar brisk cuttingness reappears in the air. You shake thousands of hands, smile for countless photographs. Mothers and wives of dead soldiers sob into your shoulder as you embrace them; teenage girls ask how they can get a good man like Aemond. Only one thing is missing from his glorious pilgrimage: something he wants desperately, something he cannot have (though he’ll never know why), you conceiving his child in time to announce it before Election Day. Each morning you sneak a pill and every night you bite the bullet. As often as you can, you duck into Dairy Queens to order lemon-lime Mr. Mistys.

George Wallace is in the South, galvanizing segregationists and accepting the endorsement of the Ku Klux Klan. Richard Nixon is working his way across the Midwest. He has chosen a politically moderate Greek as a running mate, Spiro Agnew; this does not strike you as a coincidence. He even shares a name with Aegon’s second son.

Nixon promises “peace with honor” in Vietnam, which means no immediate end to the draft. He makes speeches about “states’ rights” and “law and order,” ambiguous euphemisms designed to attract Wallace’s white supremacists without alienating too many suburban moderates. He commiserates with those lamenting the proliferation of sex, drugs, and divorce. He says he will return the nation to a more moral time. You wonder what he means. You can’t think of any such refuge in the bloodletting, spine-crushing history of mankind.

A kindergarten teacher tells you in Olympia, Washington, her eyes alight with reverence usually reserved for heroes, saints, gods: “People are voting for Aemond, but they’re voting for you too.”

And you find yourself thinking as a thousand miles roll by beyond the glass of limousine windows: How many people will I condemn if I don’t help Aemond win? How many lives is mine worth?

~~~~~~~~~~

The Hotel Sorrento in Seattle insists on giving you and Aemond the honeymoon suite: a retreat from the breakneck campaign, a romantic oasis for the future president and first lady…according to half the country, anyway. You are in the impractically large pink bathtub, surrounded by snowy dunes of bubbles. The wall to your right is a mirror, foggy around the edges; just a few yards to your left is the king-sized bed. In the top drawer of your nightstand is the card Aegon gave you in July. You aren’t sure where Aemond is, and you don’t especially care. You are relieved to be alone.

There’s a passion-red phone built into the rim of the tub, conveniently located for sudden room service revelations, champagne and chocolate-covered strawberries, steak and lobster. You have a different idea. It’s 7:15 p.m. here, so after 10 on the East Coast. On the steam-slick keypad, you dial the number for the main house at Asteria.

Eudoxia picks up and demands gruffly: “Geiá sou? Ti?”

“Hi, Doxie. Is Aegon around?”

“Where else would he be? Making himself useful somehow? Killing communists, driving a rocket to the moon? No. He is a burden as always.”

“Please be nice to him. His wife just died.”

“And so he cannot put his empty cups in the sink?” Without waiting for a reply, she sets the handset down on the kitchen counter with a clunk. There is distant, muffled shouting in Greek; she seems to back and forth with somebody. Then Eudoxia returns. “Antio sas,” she says, and hangs up just as a phone elsewhere in the house is lifted from its cradle.

Aegon answers with something halfway between a groan and a yawn. “Yeah?”

“Hey, it’s me.”

“Hey!” You can hear it riding the wire like electricity: a rustling as he sits up, a fresh clarity in his skull. His voice is deep, hushed, still husky with sleep. “What’s up, little Io? Any interesting happenings to report from your neighborhood of the solar system?”

“I just left a riveting tea party. Apple cinnamon scones and smoked salmon sandwiches. We talked about what kind of couches I should get for the White House and I wanted to kill myself. Are the kids okay?”

He’s smiling; you can tell. “They’re alright. I could have used you this afternoon. I was trying to help Spiro with his math homework. Trying, not succeeding.”

“Well he’s in middle school and thus beyond your skill.”

“How’s Jupiter?”

You know who he means. “I don’t want to talk about Aemond.”

“Okay.” Aegon says, curious. “So what should we talk about?”

A few seconds tick by, silent and perilous. “Where are you right now?”

“In my lair. Like a beast.”

“Alone?”

A transitory pause. “At the moment.”

“On the shag carpet or your futon?”

Now he’s very intrigued. “Futon. Why?”

“I just want a visual.” Beneath the water, your free hand is resting on the velvety inside of your thigh.

“Where are you?” Aegon asks.

“You wouldn’t believe it.”

“Maybe I want a visual too.”

You chuckle, peeking over at yourself in the mirror. Your skin is dewy with steam; stray wisps of hair stick to your face. “I’m in a gigantic pink bathtub. It’s ridiculous, it’s shaped like a heart and everything. They have a phone installed right here in case I find myself in desperate need of filet mignon.”

“Oh.” And then he hesitates, like he’s afraid to say the wrong thing. “Big enough for two?”

“More like five. You should get a tub like this for your basement, it would delight the campaign staffers.”

“My basement’s been pretty empty recently.”

Softly, vulnerably, glass offered for him to shatter: “You aren’t seeing other girls?”

“Nah, babe. I want something they can’t give me.”

You picture him, messy hair falling over his forehead, drowsy eyes that gleam with clandestine wisdom. You can smell the smoke and rum that bleeds from his skin. “I wish you were here.”

“In Seattle?”

“No. Right here.”

Aegon exhales shakily, swallows, takes a few seconds to collect himself. “How’s the water?”

“Extremely hot and full of bubbles.”

“So I wouldn’t be able to see you.”

“No,” you say, baiting him.

“But I could touch you.”

“You already have.”

“Not enough,” he murmurs. “Nowhere close to enough.”

“Do you remember what I felt like?”

“Oh God,” he whispers, and you envision him closing his eyes, rubbing his face with the open palm of his left hand. “Yeah. Of course I do. I can’t get it out of my head. But I’ve been trying not to…you know…it felt wrong to think about you that way unless you were cool with it. Like I was betraying your trust or taking advantage of you or something.”

“No, I want you to think about me.”

You can hear Aegon moving around on the green futon, repositioning himself, yanking down a zipper. When he speaks again, his breathing is quick and jagged. “Where’s your other hand, huh?”

“Under the water,” you reply coyly.

“You bitch,” he says, laughing. “I miss you so fucking much. The house isn’t right without you in it. You belong here, you belong where I am.”

Beneath the veil of bubbles and steam, there is no scar on your belly, no infidelity, no campaign, no distance of almost 3,000 miles separating you and Aegon. Your fingers slip between your legs, finding slickness the water can’t wash away. It’s a familiar sensation, though you haven’t felt it in a while: rising steadily until you hit a plateau like a jet reaching cruising altitude. From here, it will either glide along smoothly until it dies out, or eventually turn sharp and painful. “Tell me about you,” you pant.

He can hear it in your voice, a needful surrender that sets him on fire. He can’t believe this is happening; he never wants it to end. “I mean, I’m…I’m insanely hard.”

“Stroke yourself, imagine it’s me. I wish it could be me.”

“Oh fuck,” Aegon whimpers. “Okay, okay…I want you. I want you with my fingers, I want you with my tongue, I want you to beg for it, and then…”

Impossibly, incomparably, your own pleasure is climbing faster than you can reconcile yourself to it, no longer a hunger but a violent aching, a crushing gravity you can’t fight against, a ship being dragged to the floor of the ocean. What’s happening? When will it end? You moan into the phone, amazed yet petrified. You can’t get enough air; it feels like drowning, like dying.

“I need to see you,” Aegon says. He’s close to the climax that you know men experience, he has to be; he’s gasping. “I need to be with you, let me give you what you want.”

“I want you to finish inside me.”

“Io…babe…oh my God, you’re gonna kill me…”

There are sounds out in the front room of the suite: a lock clicking, footsteps, keys and a wallet tossed onto the kitchenette counter. You’re so consumed you almost don’t notice. Aemond is back. Aemond is back!! And every ion of your ascending euphoria evaporates. “Gotta go, bye.”

“Wait—!”

You hang up just as Aemond is opening the bedroom door. He walks in—immaculately tailored dark blue suit, polished black leather shoes trampling soft pink carpet—and turns to you. He has already taken his glass eye out and put on his eyepatch. Vaguely, fleetingly, you wonder where he’s been. His gaze darts to the red phone, your fingerprints in the condensation. “Who were you talking to?”

“My parents.”

If Aemond doubts this, he doesn’t show it. He crosses the room, sits on the edge of the bathtub, peers down at you with an omniscient metallic glint in his eye. He’s always been less a man than a force of nature. “I know this year has been hell.”

You envision Persephone being stolen by Hades, Orpheus searching for his dead wife Eurydice, Charon ferrying souls across the River Styx. “You haven’t made it easier.”

There’s a flash of something in his scarred face, blazing and instantaneous like lightning, and then it fades. He reaches out to touch your hair, swept up and neatly bound with clips and pins. “We can’t forget everything we’ve accomplished together,” Aemond says. “I still need you. You’re my Aphrodite.”

He’s going to tell you to get out of the tub, to lie down on the bed, to open yourself so he can fill you. You distract him, forestalling the inevitable. Each morning Prometheus dreads the return of the eagle that pecks out his liver; as every summer ends Demeter mourns the loss of Persephone. “Any luck with Nixon?”

Aemond sighs, furious, brooding. “He still won’t agree to a debate. Wallace is onboard, he’s rabid for it, he’d show up if we held it in the fucking asteroid belt, any opportunity to spew his idiocy. But not Nixon.”

“Because he knows standing on the same stage as you can only hurt him. People thought he looked bad in 1960, can you imagine now? Television has gotten so much clearer. They’ll be able to count his sweat drops from their living room couches.”

“So how do I get him to do it?”

You look up at Aemond. It’s not a hypothetical question; he’s really asking for advice.

“I have to debate Nixon,” Aemond insists. “It’s close in the polls, which means it will be even closer on Election Day. I’ll underperform whatever is projected, my coalition is less likely to show up when it counts. College kids, hippies, transients. That’s just a fact. But the old people vote. The suburban housewives vote. Nixon’s resting on his political experience and accusations that I’m a communist, an agent of chaos. But I could slaughter him in an hour on ABC.”

You think of the mutilated Vietnam veterans waving their signs and screaming at LBJ from the other side of the wrought-iron gates of the White House. “Challenge him in public. Say that the American people deserve to see the candidates debate, and do it where everyone can hear you.”

“What if Nixon still refuses?”

“Then you call him a coward. You say he must have something to hide. You ask how he’s supposed to square up with the Russians and the Chinese if he can’t even face you.”

Aemond grins admiringly. “You’re vicious.” And he lifts your hand from the rim of the tub so he can kiss your knuckles. Once you licked up drops of his approval like Tantalus, cursed with eternal thirst. Now it is poison that turns your veins black.

“If there’s a debate, everyone should go,” you say, seized by sudden inspiration. “We should have a united front, including Aegon. It can be his return to the public eye. A month will have passed since the funeral, the timing is right. He can pose for a few photos with the kids to show the nation that they’re doing well and distract from any lingering rumors about Mimi.”

Aemond isn’t grinning anymore. He’s studying you with his cold blue gaze; no, he’s trying to intimidate you, to overpower you. “Otto and I will decide what to do with him.”

“He’s a Targaryen. He should be with the rest of us.”

Aemond stands and motions for you to follow, a snap of his wrist like a man calling a dog. “It’s late. Let’s go to bed.”

Panic, tension, an iron sinking in your belly. The water is only lukewarm now, but you don’t want to leave it. “I’m not done yet.”

“Yes you are.”

There’s nothing else to say. Legally, a wife’s flesh is one with her husband’s. You slip as you step out of the bathtub, and Aemond grabs your forearm. Not like he’s helping you; like you’re something he owns.

~~~~~~~~~~

Two knocks, swift and forceful. “Hey, it’s me. You ready? Everyone else is downstairs in the lobby waiting for the limos.”

You hurry to open the door, almost twisting your ankle as you stumble in your heels. They’re an inch higher than what you’re used to. Aemond chose them, and your dress too, and your sapphire teardrop earrings, and the silver chains around your wrist and throat, and your future and your past, and your life itself. It’s mid-October, and the night of what will almost certainly be the sole presidential debate of 1968. Aemond’s retinue is staying at the Hotel Saint Louis. It’s harvest time, the fields beyond the city being reaped of their soybeans, wheat, corn, cotton, and rice, the beef cattle culled in mechanical underworlds. Aegon’s flight must have just landed.

As soon as he sees you his eyes drop, wide and bewitched, ensnared everywhere except your face. You say: “Can you help me zip this, please?”

He blinks a few times, then shakes it off. “Sorry, what?”

“The zipper’s stuck. I need you to get it.”

“Yeah. Sure.” He steps into the suite and stands behind you. The gown is a vivid blue like the Greek flag, gorgeous and shimmering but a size too small. It wasn’t tight a week ago, but now it is, and you aren’t pregnant just always gaining and losing weight in new places, first the baby and then the pill, and it wouldn’t bother you if Aemond didn’t seem so confounded by it. Aegon says as he tugs at the zipper: “I don’t think it’s gonna fit, babe.”

“It has to fit.”

“Even if I miraculously get this closed, you won’t be able to breathe.”

“Do whatever you have to. Just…just…” You push every last molecule of air out of your lungs, suck in your belly, and you hear the triumphant squeal of the zipper. “Yes!” Oh, but Aegon was right: you really can’t breathe. “Okay. Let’s go.”

“You’re not gonna last the whole debate in that. You’ll be sweating more than Nixon.”

“I’m fine.”

“Io…”

“I’m fine. Come on.” You snatch your matching purse off the coffee table by the couch, check your makeup one last time, and hobble in your heels as you walk with Aegon out into the hallway.

At the Kiel Auditorium a few blocks away, the Targaryen children—Aegon’s five and Helaena’s three—are presented for photographs before being escorted back to the hotel by the nannies. And even in the few weeks that have passed since you last saw Aegon’s kids, there have been extraordinary changes. They talk to their father, and he talks back, and he ruffles their hair and rests his hands on their shoulders and asks them about what they’re learning from their private tutors. Cosmo tackles you before he leaves—a powerful bear hug, though he can only reach your legs—and he says he hopes you’re coming home to Asteria soon.

“Me too, kiddo,” Aegon tells him, and then smiles at you; but above his gleam of teeth his cloudy blue eyes, like the Atlantic in a storm, are gloomy and troubled.

As the audience takes their seats and the journalists are poised to capture the best images and quotes of the night, the three candidates and their wives (minus Wallace’s dear departed Lurleen) meet briefly backstage to exchange the perfunctory well-wishes. Pat Nixon is introverted and bookish, though she tries to hide it; but Aemond reels her in like swordfish until her eyes are filled with him. George Wallace gets one glimpse of your venomous glare and escapes, claiming to need one last trip to the restroom before the debate begins. But Richard Nixon beckons you to accompany him to a quiet, discrete corner of the room.

“I tried to call,” he says. He’s a remarkably normal man: medium height, receding dark hair, rough voice, weathered skin, not a god but a mortal, and—you have the impression—more aware of his flaws than his fiercest critics will ever be. “But no one at that damned beach house would ever put me through to you.”

You aren’t sure what he means. “Oh?”

“I never got the opportunity to tell you how sorry I was for your loss in July, Mrs. Targaryen,” Nixon says with unglamorous, plain, genuine compassion. “Pat and I, when we heard, we wept for you. We truly did. And for your husband to be clear across the country…I can’t even imagine. It must have been awful for you. A parent never gets over something like that. It stays with you like a scar.”

“It does,” you say softly.

“I lost two brothers. Arthur died when he was seven, tuberculosis killed Harold in his twenties. God, it just about destroyed my mother. You’re a remarkable woman. You’re lightning in a bottle for Aemond, do you know that? You’re like one of those Kennedy gals, but even better. More personable than Jackie. More intelligent than Ethel…although, to be frank, who wouldn’t be? And you’re not afflicted with any ghastly vices like Ted’s wife Joan. What would Aemond do without you? He’d lose, that’s what he’d do.”

Nixon’s smart, but he’s wounded. He’s capable, but he’s so desperate to prove it. Power could ruin a man like this. “You’re very kind, sir. You did some great work under Eisenhower. Self-made like my father was, a devotee of the American Dream. I believe you have an important role to play in this country…” You smirk, a bit mischievously. “Just not as the president.”

Nixon chortles. “No matter what happens tonight, rest assured that I hate Reagan more than I could ever dislike your husband,” he says, meaning the Republican governor of his home state of California. “You know that bastard tried to primary me?”

“Actors don’t belong in politics.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Nixon says, and then bids you farewell as the lights turn blinding and the curtain begins to rise.

As soon as the adrenaline begins to fade, all you can think about is that you can’t breathe. You take your seat in the audience between Aegon and Ludwika, who won’t stop making jabs about Nixon: “He looks like a troll,” “He looks like a sasquatch,” “Do you think Pat makes him wear a  Creature from the Black Lagoon mask in bed so she is not so repulsed by him?” The most you can offer is an occasional distracted nod in response.

“You alright?” Aegon whispers.

“Yeah.”

“You don’t look alright.”

“I’m great.”

“Sure,” he says, and he acts like he’s teasing, but there’s something tremendously sad underneath. He can’t save you from this. He can’t save you from anything. What must that feel like?

On the debate stage—broadcast to a national audience—Aemond performs brilliantly. Nixon salvages what could have been a bloodbath with a handful of clever retorts that Aemond pretends not to be rattled by. The real loser of the night is Wallace, who is brutally attacked by them both: Nixon because Wallace is commandeering some of his voting bloc, and Aemond because of his near-assassination back in May. After an hour, the contest concludes and the candidates descend to the main floor to pose for photos and get lassoed into brief interviews with various journalists. Everyone in Aemond’s entourage besides you and Aegon flock to his side. By now you’re gasping in shallow gulps, close to tears and in agony from your ribs to your wobbling feet.

“I told you,” Aegon says. And then: “Come on. We’ll take the first limo back.”

In the front room of your hotel suite—one yellowish end table lamp glowing dimly, the rest of the space like twilight—Aegon wrestles with the zipper as you struggle for every breath, trying not to pass out. “Ow,” you whine. “Oh fuck, this was so stupid…”

“Don’t let him make you wear shit you don’t want to wear.”

“I have to do what he says, Aegon.”

“He doesn’t own you.”

“Legally, he does.”

He’s tugging futilely at the jammed zipper. “Are you planning on using this again?”

“I believe that would be wistful thinking.”

“You probably look better out of it anyway.” He grabs his Zippo lighter from the pocket of his emerald green suit jacket and flicks it to life. “Don’t move, okay?”

“Okay.”

“At all.”

“Got it.”

You can feel heat, intense but not painful. Aegon has pulled the edge of the fabric as far away as he can from your skin and is singeing it until it turns black and charred and brittle. Then he tucks the lighter back into his pocket and with both hands rips your dress down to the small of your back. Cool air rushes to meet the ridge of your spine; goosebumps prickle all over. Aegon is marveling at you; you can see it when you glance over your shoulder at him. Then he lays a palm against your bare skin, leans into you, inhales everything you’ve ever been: smoke and sex and starlight, strategies, shadows, secrets.

The others will be pouring into the hallway from the elevator any minute. Aemond. Aemond could find us.

“We can’t,” you whisper, hating yourself for it.

Aegon kisses the nape of your neck—so slow, so kind—and then goes to the doorway. You wait for him to leave, but he doesn’t. He’s looking at you as you hold up the ruined gown so it covers your belly and your chest. You gaze back helplessly, wanting him, needing him, a moon chained to another world’s gravity.

We can’t, we can’t, we can’t.

“I’m so sorry,” you say.

And only then does Aegon vanish.

[gabriel-the-messenger]

Armored Core 6: Fires of Rubicon

Please play this game I am begging on my knees

Whats not to like:

1

Big robots fighting with oversized weapons

2

A lovely photo mode for all the screenshots you would ever need

3

Endless mech costumisation

4

Endless LOGO and DECAL constumisation

(This logo took about 3 hours of my day but I regret absolutely nothing)

5

Not one. Not two. But THREE great stories (with NG+ and NG++)

6

"621, the Balam Corporation wants you to burn down this orphenage for a handful of COAM. It's just a job, all of it. Stay focused on the job 621"

7

Handler Walter my beloved🥰

(He's actually just a disembodied voice in the game, credits to u/Count15 on Reddit for the fanart)

Also, shoutout to the lady in my head that calls me Studmuffin (love you Ayre)

8

Coughing baby vs hydrogen bomb (i.e : if you're gonna commit war crimes and/or throw away your humanity, do it in style)

9

(this one is just for you @zealfruity, if you're anyone else you can scroll past this one)

You can make a Transformer!

(This one is by iiiveliii on TikTok. I haven't found any great Starscreams, meaning YOU should be the first!)

10

If you're not @zealfruity, welcome back! So, for my last and final point:

THE MUSIC

If you weren't already enamoured by the visuals of this game, wait t'ill you hear its soundtrack.

These are two examples I cherry-picked from my favorites, but there's nothing more atmospheric than fighting giant robots while having these bangers in the background.

CLOSING REMARKS

AC6: Fires of Rubicon is an amazing game. It takes about 50-60 hours to complete (including NG+ and NG++), but I've sank more than 100+ hours into it as of writing this post. It offers an experience unlike any other, letting you not only build and costumize your massive war machine to your heart's content, experimenting with many different playstyles, but also let's you experience an amazing story with many hidden facades (in true FromSoftware style (did I mention this was a FromSoft game? Dark Souls FromSoft?)) and fight interesting and varied bosses.

Be warned, I have struggled on quite a few bosses, and even the tutorial boss is considered a "filter". However, when you do beat these ennemies, you feel a rush unlike any other.

I've spent all this time writing this and yet I haven't even talked about PvP, and thats because my enjoyment of it varies extremely depending on who I'm fighting. Some people run builds based around the meta (which I personnally find a bit boring, but if that's your vibe then go all out), but I find the truly entertaining matches to be players who aren't afraid to experiment, bringing unconventionnal weapons or builds and trying out interesting strategies. Some also throw all of that out of the window, and I've had quite a few matches end up with me and them simply throwing our weapons out and punching each other to death.

All around, I obviously could not recommend this game more. It's a good 9.5/10 for me, with my only criticism is that I wish there were more long-range and ballistic weapons (I'm a sucker for the sound of bullets ricocheing).

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Between the Lines 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, Lee is rude, customer service triggers. and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters:Lee Bodecker

Part of the Bookstore AU

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

There’s banging on the door. So loud it wakes you in your bed. You roll over, dizzy with grogginess, and stumble onto your feet. Zuzu, your sleepy calico, only lifts her head before dropping it back down. She doesn’t have energy for human concerns.

You follow the banging as it continues and come out to the main room of your apartment. Your neighbours aren’t exactly peaceful but you don’t expect such a rude awakening. You go to the door and peek through the peephole. You can see nothing as it’s covered from the other side.

The door shakes and a voice holler through, “police.”

You’re not sure you trust the disembodied declaration. You keep the chain hooked but turn the latch back. You lean into the door and inch it open. It’s pushed from the other side to the limit of the links.

“Hel…lo,” your greeting splits in two as the officer drags his hand away from the door. It’s the same man from the bookstore. The sheriff, he said.

“Good mornin’, ma’am,” he drawls with a coy smirk, “we got calls about a disturbance in the building. You hear anything?”

His question hangs between you. His eyes drift down to your crooked pajama shirt and the pajama pants clinging low to your hips. You cross your arms and sniff. You not his badge; Sheriff. L. Bodecker.

“I just woke up. Didn’t hear a thing,” you answer curtly.

“We’re just makin’ sure everyone’s safe,” he looks you in the eye and tilts his head, “ladies livin’ alone…”

“I’m fine,” you feel the way he pushes even more on the door. You almost fear he’ll pull the chain completely loose.

“Ya mind if I have a look around?” He asks.

You stare at him, unflinching. Something about this doesn’t seem coincidental. It’s as ominous as the words that dogged you since your tense meeting in the parking lot.

“Do you have a warrant?” You breathe.

He chuckles and pulls his arm back, shoving his foot into the small space between the door and frame, “now,” he rubs his ruddy cheek, “why would I need that if you’re not hidin’ anything?”

“Hiding? What? I just don’t think it’s necessary for you to come in. I told you, I haven’t heard a thing.”

“Mmm,” the noise rumbles up his throat, “just lookin’ out for ya. Wouldn’t want some creep hangin’ around.” He clucks and puts his hand on his hip, “rough neighbourhood.”

“Thank you for your concern, but I’m fine,” you insist.

He smirks again and gets closer. You keep your hand on the door but lean away, “I’m sure you can take care of yourself. You’re a smart girl and all.”

“Sir,” you eke out.

He laughs and taps the door with his knuckles. He pulls his foot out of the door and you nearly slam it with the release of tension. He backs up, pushing out his stomach as he eyes you from head to toe. You hide behind the barrier but it feels like he can see everything.

“You stay safe,” he winks and turns lazily on his heel.

You snap the door shut and quickly turn the deadbolt. Your heart pumps wildly as you cling to the handle. You listen and hear his soles scuff down the hallway. You wonder how he found you but you guess it’s not that hard given his position.

🚓

The rest of the day holds little of note. No more surprises, even as you watch over your shoulder. Not just for the sheriff but your manager. Colin isn’t subtle as he circles like a hawk each time you’re with a customer.

You’re probably the most helpful employee left in the place. Ever since that older woman disappeared on sick leave, you seem to be the only employee without an addiction to TikTok. You can understand being distracted in a bookstore but definitely not by your phone.

You leave for the day and stop on your way home to get take out at the Lebanese shop at the corner of your street. They have a combo sale that costs you as much as a homemade meal. You’re feeling lazy and too agitated to deal with a hot stove.

You feed Zuzu after she serenades you shrilly. You eat with her pacing behind you on the couch, waiting for any scrap to pounce on as she forgets her kibble. You try to ignore her as you watch a documentary on Alexandre Dumas. You lose interest shortly after you finish your food and shut off the television.

You recline on the couch with your book, too stubborn to go to bed yet. You know you’ll fall asleep the minute your head touches the pillow. You lay against the armrest and ease into the collection of essays on the Victorian era and various strains of relationships; from friendship to marriage.

It’s not the most compelling to the non-academic but you find spurts of intrigue. You yawn and turn the page, the quiet coaxing you further into your fatigue. Your eyes turn itchy and the font begins to smear. You close the book and get up, leaving it under the lamp as you flick off the light.

You collapse into bed as Zuzu claims her spot by your feet. It doesn’t take much to fall asleep, the world slipping into blackness in a blink. 

The sharp hiss brings you back to the world. You sit up, trying to shake away the cloudiness in your skull. You hear Zuzu jump onto the floor and scurry into the next room. Then a crash.

“What the he–” you murmur as you shove yourself to the edge, “Zu, what are you doing?”

You call out to the cat as you follow her into the front room. As you come out, the darkness is thicker than you expect. The curtains are drawn, blocking out the streetlights and the moon, but you don’t remember closing them.

Zuzu hiss again then lets out an angry yowl, her claws tearing into the rug as she rips around the room. Another clatter as you search through squinting eyelids. What is going on?

“Zu,” you think you see her dash across the floor. You bend over and lunge, trying to catch her, “Zu, chill–”

You feel something clasp around the back of your neck, stopping you in place as it holds you bent awkwardly over your knees. You extend your arms, fingertips on the floor as the thick fingertips pinch into your tendons. You whimper in horror.

“Ain’t no good for a girl like you to be livin’ on her own,” the sheriff’s voice rolls through the dark.

[demdifferentstories-29]

Timelines (Doctor Who (2005) fanfiction)

Story Summary

In Pete's World, Rose has a dream about New Year's 2005 and the Doctor tells her why.

1/1 chapters. For the Tentoo x Rose Microfic Challenge; @tentoorosemicrofics

Prompts: Memories; nightgown; worry.

Rating: General

Pairing: Metacrisis Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler

Word Count: 1373

Chapter Content/Tags: Dreams; memories; regeneration; hurt/comfort; angst; married couple.

Link (AO3), or read below!

Story

In a cosy little flat not too far from the bustling city, the heart and soul of London, the lights are off and the home is still. Shoes and coats discarded at the door lead to a pristine kitchen and dining table after an evening of cooking and eating, which opposes the living room which is suspended in time with blankets strewn across the couch and an empty packet of jelly babies sitting on the coffee table. Further down the hall is where the master bedroom resides, and in a queen-sized bed, the occupants of this small yet dearly loved residence are tangled in a cuddle. Legs threaded through each other, a back pressed against a chest, a nose buried in the crook of a neck, arms wrapped tightly around a torso, and gentle, slow, rhythmic breaths passing through thin cotton to warm the skin beneath.

The Doctor, per usual, is the big spoon to Rose Tyler’s little spoon. He is very rarely the one to be held in these circumstances, but it is something he doesn’t complain about nor care for. After everything he has been through with his precious girl, he savours any and every opportunity to hold her and ground himself to her body—a simple, yet such a powerful, reminder that this reality is not a conjuring or trickery of the mind. 

He was born from the disembodied hand of his full-Time Lord self and had spliced into this partly human counterpart. He is living with Rose in a parallel world and is living the life he could only have dreamed of when he had first met his pink-and-yellow human. They are in love, ferociously so, and are making the most of this blessed opportunity they had been granted.

In his sleep, he sighs happily as the hand that is completely human and original slips beneath Rose’s nightgown from where it rests on her stomach and caresses her soft, warm skin, the slightly cool complexion of the metal band wrapped around his ring finger making his wife shiver subconsciously.

In Rose’s sleep, the now older Defender of Earth who is almost thirty, she often shudders to think, furrows her brow deeply and begins to tense up all over. Not because of her husband’s wandering and cheeky hand. Rather, her mind is starting to play images and memories in her dreams that are not familiar. 

She knows a few key details—she’s eighteen in this dream because it’s New Year’s two-thousand-and-five, most definitely in the early hours of the fresh year. She’s at the Powell Estate, and Jackie has just left her after a conversation that feels like the roles of mother and daughter have been swapped. These moments she recognises, remembering the cold nip of the snowy air against her cheeks and fingertips; the desperation she feels to get back into the warmth of the flat; the quiet promise she had made to herself at midnight to have a better year after the fiasco that had been two-thousand-and-four courtesy of Jimmy Stone and a few bad mistakes.

But why is he here, she is asking herself as his pained, winded groan captures her attention. Her dream self doesn’t recognise him, but her disembodied conscious does. Why does he look so sad, so wistful as his chocolate eyes gaze upon her lovingly? Why does he hesitate and speak so vaguely? 

Rose gasps and shoots up from slumber without warning, tearing herself out of the Doctor’s arms as her body and mind panic, the memory vividly playing before her in her mind. This wasn’t a dream or modulation and she knows it—this had actually happened. The previous version of that event slips away from her mind like quicksand and the new alterations fill in the gaps. Seeing the Northerner, blue-eyed Doctor regenerate into the man she is married to is a memory that has a layer of bewilderment and familiarity to it now, recognising the younger complexion as the drunkard who told her she was going to have a great year. 

What was happening?

“Rose!” her husband exclaims, sitting up with her and wrapping his hands around her shoulders comfortingly. “What is it, love?” he soothes, trying to capture her eyes and attention, brow knotted in deep concern and worry for his beloved. 

“You…” she whispers, turning her head to him with tears in her eyes. His singular heart churns and breaks at the sight. “You visited me before we met… in two-thousand-and-five.” His furrowed brow turns from anxious to confused. He hadn’t—it was a simple fact. He had stumbled upon his Rose in Henrick’s; saved her life and changed the course of their timelines for good. 

“No, sweetheart—I didn’t,” he counters as politely and gently as possible, rubbing her bare arms and tucking loose hairs behind her ear. He searches her glassy and terrified eyes, trying to ground her in their world. Perhaps she’s had a bad dream, he muses. Memories and fantasy blending together. “There’s no reason…” he begins, but pauses as he thinks about the situation deeper. His face falls into a solemn look as he considers and accepts his theory. “Oh,” he murmurs, enlightened.

“What?” she questions, now her turn to look confused. The Doctor draws in a slow breath, taking one of her hands into his and squeezing gently. He hates having to tell her this, to break the news, but one of the vows he had made to her was that he would never lie to her; never keep her in the dark about anything. 

“He’s regenerating,” he elaborates with an empathetic frown. She seizes up a little, quietly devastated to hear this. She knows the Time Lord is afraid to move on from his current form, to change and become a new man, but it is a necessary evil. She reflects on everything for a moment and comes to her own conclusions. If this memory came to her new and altered tonight, and if he was just as upset as he appeared in her mind…

“And… and he’s alone?” she guesses, her voice thick with tension and coming out in a slight croak. He nods, drawing his lips into a thin line. A few tears trickle down her cheeks, her heart aching for the man she loves. His twin draws her into an embrace, rolling tender, comforting circles into her back.

“I know…” he coos, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head. He thinks back to the regenerations he experienced during his nine-hundred years of living and shudders at the thought of doing it alone. “He’ll be okay. He’ll find someone,” he assures her, another kiss to her temple. She pulls back from him, staring at him with wet, red eyes. He frowns at the sight and cups her cheek lovingly.

“At least… at least he lives on in you,” she manages to blubber out, offering a trembling smile that he reciprocates as tears of his own spring to life. “I’m so glad your hand got cut off that Christmas,” she laughs, which he chuckles at as well, brushing away the wetness that begins to fall down his face.

“I am too,” he whispers before kissing her softly, smoothing away the last of her tears. She does the same to him. They pull back after a moment and rest their foreheads against each other’s, grinning softly in the darkness of their bedroom and just holding each other’s hands.

“Do… do you think he knows how happy he got to be in this world?” she mumbles.

“Oh, of course, he does,” he hums, nuzzling his nose against hers. “I daydreamed about the possibilities of being with you every day, and I’m sure that after he left he thought about all of those hopes and desires and realised that in another universe he’s living out those fantasies every minute he spends with you,” he explains softly, so quietly as he runs his thumb against her skin. “I’m certain that he gets to live in peace with that knowledge.”

“Okay,” she murmurs, stealing another kiss. “Back to sleep?” she suggests.

“I think so,” he agrees, bundling her into his arms once their backs hit the mattress and drifting back to slumber.

[fairlyabookie]

Curse

Author’s note: added a little reference in this one ;) Day 6 of Promptober!

Content warning: Major character death, body horror, platonic undertones

“Big brother, come play with me!”

“Big brother, let’s eat lunch together!”

“Big brother, have you eaten yet?”

“Big brother, big brother!”

Repeated footage of Ortho calling for his older brother plays on a large monitor. A forlorn look lists upon two individuals’ features, appearing much older from the light of the monitors.

“Idia…”

[Reader] bites their lips, tears threatening to fall by the corner of their eyes. They couldn’t bear to see Idia like this, a hallowed shell of who he was before. A big brother grieving for his lost sibling, not the first time, but for the second time. Frigid numbness permeates every inch of his body, a familiar numbness that anchored his body to stillness. Grief was a curse he couldn’t shake off, his emotions a tumultuous storm of regret and anger, his thoughts teetering to something unruly and unsettling. Even for the first time Idia managed to rebuild “Ortho” to a robot body, but now, he is gone..

“I don’t know what to do.”

Fatigue seeps into his body, the words barely audible from his lips. Could he afford the luxury to grieve? Time could tell..

“Idia, is there anything I can do for you?”

[reader]’s voice sounded dull to his ears. Idia peers over to them, his eyes catching a silhouette in the distance.

“It’s fine. I’m tired, so just leave me alone for a while.”

Idia musters a heavy sigh. [Reader] complies, sparing a concerned look before leaving the third year to his devices. Desperation could easily describe his following actions, inputting keywords into a series of code for memories. If he could find a way to bring Ortho to life once more.

“[Reader], [Reader]!”

“Ortho?”

[reader] couldn’t mistake the voice; rather, it felt as if Ortho was with them. They had to make sure..

“Ortho, is that you?”

“Yay, you can hear me!”

[reader]’s blood ran cold - how was it possible for Ortho to achieve a function of a disembodied voice? They had the urge to call for Idia.

“Don’t call for Big Brother yet!”

Something was off.

“Why not?”

[Reader] couldn’t shake off the feeling of dread as they looked for the boy.

“You see, I can’t move on to the afterlife, so my spirit is still here.”

[Reader] had an idea about what that meant; they risk a guess by a singular question.

“Are you saying that you can’t move on because of a grudge?”

“Exactly!”

Ortho chimes happily. They can picture a wide grin on the boy’s lips. Dread claws at [Reader]’s heart. Now, the boy couldn’t rest in peace, all because of a grudge.

“[Reader], it’s not that bad! Now, I can watch you and Idia forever!”

“But Ortho..”

“I don’t mind it, [Reader]..”

Upon the last word, a form resembling what was left of a young boy, a cross of robotic and human features smothered by ink. Sharp teeth decorate a sinister smile. Before [Reader], this was not Ortho they were familiar with; rather, someone who was in between life and death.

[Reader] could picture Idia’s face if he were to see his younger brother right now. Instead of letting ‘him’ go and accepting the fact that Ortho had passed, both [Reader] and Idia clung onto the hope that he can be brought back; now, this ‘Ortho’ came back not only as a returned spirit, but a curse attached to the wishes of the two.

“[Reader],”

says the imposter Ortho with the crooked smile,

“Can you take me to Big Brother right now?”

The haunting image of Ortho imprints itself into [Reader]’s memory, reminding them of a fatal mistake they wished for.

[nicsalazar]

Blood for parts || Nicole & Parker

TIMING: Current LOCATION: The Pines PARTIES: @wonder-in-wings & @nicsalazar SUMMARY: Parker adds a new item to his collection CONTENT WARNING: Surgery tw, drug manipulation tw, animal cruelty tw.

It was getting antsy. Nicole had gotten better at discerning when it was her own anxiety clawing at her ribcage —akin a flutter, like dead things crawling beneath her sternum— and when it was the jaguar demanding attention. That was a cold strike, right in the middle, expanding and pulsing until Nicole felt her heart jump at her throat. It was like that right now. Had been for the better part of a week. She had neglected it too long, and not for the usual reasons. Work had been demanding, in the thick of fire season she could count the days she was back home with the fingers on one hand. And when she got respite, she had to handle things like hunters coming out of nowhere making attempts on her life or beasts trying to drown her. Or fucking goo. And then, all she wanted to do with the precious time that remained was to spend it with Leah. It was all— It was just hard, finding time to reacquaint herself with the beast.

A beast that she still liked keeping at arm's length, anyway. So maybe, she was just trying to find justification for her own conscious choices. But it had been patient, Nicole had to concede. It deserved one night to finally get some fresh air.

She had left her car behind, walked almost a mile to venture deep in the heart of the forest, where the light barely filtered. She was far away enough that she wouldn’t have to worry about people getting a look at a Jaguar. The two had seemed to have reached an agreement with that, at least. She hoped. Releasing the monster with the condition it didn’t wander off to dangerous places.  

The jaguar —her jaguar, she had to start using the right words— was a temperamental creature. Nicole had to let it come out when it was ready, willing. Hardly ever did so at her command, so when she reached her usual spot, it didn’t surprise her that the pulsing in her body was gone. She readied herself anyway, placing her clothes and items somewhere she would remember to get back to. She inhaled, slow and big, holding for a second then releasing with a shaky breath. 

Hello?

An intense cold struck her chest, wrapping around her ribcage. At least it was awake. Stirring. Nicole felt pressure behind her eyes, a known sign of something shifting. And when she blinked, the night revealed itself through the beast’s eyes. Clearer, sharper. Picking up on everything that hid behind the trees.

It was a matter of time before—

The cramp in her leg sent her to the ground. Fuck. Unexpected and fucking rude. But she had to ignore the pain. It was happening. It was here, Cold sweat dripped down her neck, her heart pounding erratically. Nicole heaved, anticipating the pain about to overcome her. This part didn't get any easier. Her brain was still firing, letting go wasn’t something she excelled at. Part of her wished to retain control, which never made the battle easy for the jaguar. Her hair stood on end, goosebumps spreading across her skin. It would be over soon, though. It would be done in a second… The Jaguar was more lenient these days.

Breathe. That voice anchoring her final echo of conscience never felt like her own. It came from nowhere, disembodied. Overhead, inside. Everywhere. Strong, yet soothing. Connecting Nicole to something beyond her comprehension. Ancestral power, and magic seeping from within. 

Muscles tore, bones snapped, but no blood was spilled. It was the last thing Nicole registered. An ethereal mist billowed from the cracks, gliding over human skin and engulfing the body completely. In a mix of wisp and flesh, the beast emerged freely, releasing a powerful roar. And like any feline, regardless of size, it stretched, welcoming the extra space around its playground.  

The forest, any forest really, was ideal for Parker nowadays. Given the past… month or so, with its instabilities, uncertainties, and mood swings that didn’t exist before in any comfortable plane of existence in his mind, the Warden was on the road to recovery. Again. As usual. Every once in a while he was reminded by himself that hunters were inherently flawed, not through their own actions, but through a fundamental mutation in their dna. To be a hunter in any capacity was to experience pain. The same could be said about humans but that wasn’t entirely true either, was it? He didn’t know the ins and outs of shifters and the undead but even the informal names for them seemed to answer the curiosity about whether or not they felt anything.  The Warden used to not think about it.

He’d had a lot of misadventures in the past few weeks. A lot of emotions he didn’t know existed and among those he did, he had no idea he was capable of feeling them. Parker had encountered a grifter, the shifter whose tail he managed to not take, the nymph whose tail he managed to take, what he presumed to be a demon and someone he refused to believe as such. He spent a much more significant amount of time crying, ruining his less important belongings and second-guessing himself than he’d ever have liked. His sleep schedule was in tatters, ripped to shreds by the despair and terror of those emotions that he’d accidentally absorbed from the godforsaken crystal in that alley.

Very few of those emotions that had plagued him the past couple of weeks were retained. The pendulum was so desperate to stop moving, to stop feeling anything that the first day after Rayne had helped him, Parker didn’t leave his house. He sat in the comfortable high-backed chair in his basement, illuminated by the warm glow of the lamp on the table from that morning after a last, fitful sleep until it was so far into the night that the upstairs was darker than the downstairs. He sat, in complete, serene silence. He sat, staring at the fractions of his collection, feeling scraps of emotion trying to push through the cast-iron wall he erected.

He didn’t feel anything.

A roar abruptly shook him out of those ruminations and instinctively, Parker’s gaze became alerted and he hastily retreated to the safety of a thick tree trunk. His hand rested on his thick leather belt, the familiar belt from which hung several different tools, his needle-like knives and pouches. A few weeks ago, the sound wouldn’t have given him pause or thoughts to concern himself with and even now, he wasn’t scared but there was certainly something familiar about that roar in particular. It belonged to a big cat.

A jaguar, if he had to guess. Parker licked his lower lip and his sharp blue eyes started to glance around for the source, hoping that whatever it was wasn’t behind him.

The roar that reverberated in the night air as it broke loose was glowering. Any remaining creatures might have vanished before the sound stopped resonating against the trees. What followed was a tiny, content chuff, as a nod of appreciation to the human for its release. There weren’t many spontaneous outings anymore. Not since the dormant human had tightened control. Although strained, the relationship was slowly moving toward understanding.Toward coexistence in harmony. The jaguar would never accept taming, but the compromise worked. For now. The beast sauntered, stretching its limbs, tail low as it felt no threat in the vicinity. Content to be outside again. Its amber eyes glazed over, capturing the night with more lucidity than its human counterpart.

At last, the beast was free to roam where it belonged. To feel the night breeze against its fur, ruffling orange and black hues. To sense the ominous energy pulsing underground, and listen to the humming of life within the forest. The jaguar had always been intended to exist in this manner. Connected to the earth. Delicate ears and eyes scanned the area for potential victims that might have been unable to flee. Because nature was a beautiful thing, entwined to the animal in more than one way, but the jaguar had spent too long in captivity not to savor the thrill of a hunt. 

However, the beast’s plans changed in an instant.

The air suddenly sizzled with new energy, and the jaguar’s instincts kicked in. Danger loomed. The animal paused when it became aware of a second presence nearby. Keen ears perked up at each suspicious rustling of leaves. Expectant eyes shone in the shadows. Observing every detail, looking for threats. Awaiting. There was a blur of orange and black as the jaguar turned towards the encroaching sounds, claws out and teeth bared to defend itself.

Amid the trees and the shadows, a man stood. The jaguar inhaled, committing to memory the scent of its victim. It had never smelled human blood like that before. Tilting its head in curiosity, the jaguar turned slowly, taking long strides as it crept silently toward him. Movements smooth, approach measured. But only for so little. The smoldering gaze was transfixed on the tall figure. Hungry for too long. Aching for a big meal. This was an ideal position for the jaguar to be in, stalking its prey from behind. The beast didn't want to wait any longer, it drooled at its future victim inched closer. And perhaps, it was this desire that overshadowed the usual precision for stealth attacks.The jaguar leaped with terrible force. Claws plunged into flesh, a death grip on its prey, and the energy of the blow sent them both crashing against the forest floor, the jaguar momentarily pinning down the man.

All things considered, Parker probably should’ve been more well-prepared on the chance that he’d encounter something unfamiliar or outside of his specific wheelhouse of expertise - to say that Wicked’s Rest was a hotspot for supernatural creatures was something of an understatement to him. He’d already interacted with a jaguar shifter twice, not even knowing what to call them, and neither time had been preferable. He did learn a thing or two about them, though… they weren’t like what he knew of werewolves, at least not in their entirety. He also did more research into jaguars in general as essentially they seemed to act identical even if it was a shifter who transformed into one. Jaguars were… cats. They were adjusted for seeing in the dark that surrounded Parker, light on their feet to allow easy stalking and dextrous. And their fangs were large. This was seemingly common knowledge for people who weren’t him, who specialized in insects, alligators and snakes but never paid any attention in the way of nonhuman mammals. ‘You really should’ve paid more attention’ he heard his brother say in his head as he heard nothing (which tracked with his notably poor hearing to begin with) and felt claws in his skin, effortlessly tearing through his shirt and being forced to the ground. A weight was on top of him and his lightning quick reflexes didn’t seem to be fast enough as Parker gasped sharply from the pain of both the punctures in his flesh and his shoulder aching as he landed on it. In the next instant, as he felt the oppressive force of the jaguar pushing against him, he pulled the long dagger from the holster on his thigh and he swung in a broad gesture, not caring what he hit or how he hit it - he wasn’t going to be able to do much of anything if he couldn’t move sufficiently.

From its position, crushing its prey under the weight of its massive paws, the jaguar couldn’t have been more favored. Its victim was much larger than the average prey usually found in this forest. Generally, the jaguar wasn’t inclined to attack humans, satisfied with the scraps it was able to get with each outing. Coyotes, deer sometimes. Moose once, but it was already half eaten. So when the opportunity presented itself —such tremendous prey, so easily caught— it would be unthinkable not to take advantage of it. 

Hot blood oozed from the man’s wounds, causing the jaguar to lick its muzzle in anticipation. Feral and hungry. Its most lethal weapon against prey, the bite, would guarantee a quick death. The jaguar bared razor sharp teeth, claws dug deeper into his muscles, blocking any attempt to escape as it readied for the final strike. What the jaguar didn't know was that the man, its prey, was carrying a weapon on him. A few of his aimless attempts tore off white underbelly, blood splattering onto his face as result. The jaguar cried out in pain and retreated, not before scratching the victim a few more times, with the intention of stopping the attacks and severing the man’s arm if it could. The jaguar jumped off the man’s body, back on soft grass, slowly smearing it with its blood. But the beast wouldn’t let a small scratch deter it. Glowering eyes were fixed on its victim, waiting for its next move. The most instinctual part of the animal, the part that kept it alive for five years, urged it to retreat, to run. But the arrogant part, the part that wanted its rightful place among wildlife, knew what a fearsome beast it was, needed to test its rival’s strength and come out on top. Prove itself superior. A simple knife wouldn’t be strong enough to stop the beast. In fact, it was an insult to believe so. This need to run away and escape was sometimes strangely as if the human within bled onto the beast’s psyche. Scared, weak. It was that split second of beast or human conundrum that gave the man on the ground a moment to gather himself.

Parker wasn’t the type of person to cry out in pain; even when Felix’ jaguar had latched its claw into his face, nearly blinding him and cleaving down to the bone, he didn’t yell. That was the case now, even as he felt the creature’s claws embedding themselves deeper into his flesh. The Warden’s blood, wanting to react instinctively but not suited for a non-fae, seeped from the openings between the thick claws and his skin and he felt it harder to catch his breath. Parker wondered, for a moment as he felt the stinging from the puncture wounds, if he was actually going to die and rather than feel a primitive fear, he was more or less disappointed. Sad, even, at how he never got to finish his collection. So when his wild swinging managed to get the creature to back off (though not before wrenching its talons through his arm, eliciting another involuntary, though restrained grunt of pain), Parker relied further on those enhanced reflexes and scrambled to his knees at least while the beast glared at him. Crimson from his wounds splashed the ground, mixing with the jaguar’s on the dark forest floor and he felt his arm throbbing - dislocated shoulder, most likely, as well as bleeding from the deep gashes that now wrapped themselves around his shoulder and bicep. Though he wanted to address it, he didn’t dare take his own steely blue eyes off the warm ambers of the jungle cat. It hesitated and Parker scanned his brain for information he retained and since learned, both about jaguars in general and from his interactions with Felix; jaguars weren’t native to Maine, obviously. That meant it had either escaped from the zoo, which Parker wasn’t even sure there were any in the Wicked’s Rest zoo, or there was a person inside of the animal, in a metaphysical sense. Unfortunately, the Warden didn’t grant this one the luxury that he had to Felix, indeed using that experience to color this one and he quickly came to the conclusion that he wasn’t a ranger so even though his strength exceeded that of non-powered humans, he lacked the knowledge to sufficiently fight the balam. Plus, even as he bled out from multiple injuries and had trouble moving the fingers on his dislocated arm, he wanted to stare at the creature’s tail. He failed once, an error he didn’t want to repeat. He couldn’t ignore that his arm needed attention before he could harvest, though. And in order to do that, he needed to try sedating again. So, keeping his icy eyes on the darkened figure of the snarling beast, he dropped the dagger with enough force that it stuck out of the blood-smattered ground and he used a strong hand to pull three of the thin, needle-like daggers from his belt, holding them in a cluster in a large palm and… he waited. He wasn’t going to engage the creature on his own terms, they were going to fight on its own. He just needed to be quicker, just a little.

The human was a mess. Weakened by the claws, arm dangling oddly, bleeding onto the forest floor. The jaguar was determined not to give up another meal. Not after the red mist threatened its life and spoiled a sizable prey last time. Feline eyes met human ones, and the beast recognized a predator in its opponent. His demeanor, his reluctance to surrender. To run for safety. It snarled, understanding what was about to unfold. Proud and certain it would come out the victor. The dagger fell to his feet, stopping the jaguar’s movements. Feline instinct came to the forefront, as the creature stared curiously. A paw swiped in the air, almost as if it wished to play with the blade on the ground, but discarding the idea after a beat. Eyes locked onto the man after the distraction, watching him pull out a different kind of sharp object out of his stomach.

The Jaguar could see it had the physical advantage, despite pacing with a stagger due to the slashing wound in its flank. Another roar boomed; Another warning, a chance for its enemy to retreat. Head tilted to the side, the animal didn’t blink, unable to comprehend the sight. The man simply waited. Amber gaze took in its adversary. He would’ve been worthy of respect had they not found themselves in a battle for survival. Ears pinned in defiance, a ferocious gaze bore into him. Something shifted within the animal as amber stared into blue. The beast didn’t want to wait longer, mouth watering as the smell of his blood reached its nose. Hunger ready to be sated. 

The jaguar could have retreated. It had done a good job — though less precise than other times— in mangling the man, who might bleed out from his wounds sooner rather than later. And then, it could feast. But the jaguar was far more stubborn than Nicole, who always fought for survival above anything. The animal felt her influence, the fight to get back in control stirring inside, sinking hot into its chest. Yet hind legs were quick to spring, catching the man again for another tussle. This time, there was less of a collision and more of a shove, weakened by the blood loss, inexplicably restrained by other forces and the strike missed where it was intended to land —the head, where it should have killed in one blow—and instead found purchase somewhere between the ground and his shoulder. Unintentionally, lowering its head offered the man a better angle to unleash the trick up his sleeve.

The roar echoed through the woods, banging off of the trees and distorting itself to anyone who might’ve heard it in the distance. Having grown accustomed to the sound, however, and with only one working ear and the fresh spikes of pain keeping his mind from giving in to a primal fear at staring down a mighty jungle cat, Parker’s eyes narrowed slightly as he anticipated the next move. He wondered if there was any hidden rationale behind the molten gold stare. He wondered if there was an internal battle between the human and the jaguar; his talk with Felix had only made him more cognizant of the fractured splinters of knowledge that it was a vessel torn in two… or perhaps, two halves of a vessel merged into one. The human, the jaguar. Felix’ jaguar’s name was Wildcat; did this one have a name designated? Did this creature think in terms a human would, understand complex ideas or heed instruction? Or was Parker correct in his assumptions that the jaguar was a safety precaution, something for the human to fall back on and hide behind when the human was being threatened or inconvenienced? Did the person really respect the jaguar? Because it seemed like Felix didn’t until the Warden started undignifying himself by insulting the shifter. And really, was he wrong? Felix the human couldn’t do much, if anything, compared to Parker; the jaguar, whether they liked, hated, tolerated or rejected it, was a bodyguard. ‘Shifters are probably the most pathetic’, his father said to the brothers once, replaying in his mind as the spotted predator leapt at him again, time seeming to slow once more. ‘Vampires and zombies are mindless but the solutions to distract ‘em till you can put ‘em down are easy as hell - blood ‘n brains.’ The jaguar rammed him, pushing him back with a powerful shoulder as more claws caught in his thigh. Teeth pushing against his belt and the tips of fangs puncturing his waist. ‘Shifters are pathetic because you can’t reason with an animal. You can’t reason with any nonhumans but animals are the worst about it.’ Parker was forced against the tree he stood near, held in place by the weight of the animal and feeling his teeth clench as his dislocated shoulder was pressed into the rough bark but his lightning reflexes saw the opportunity he was presented - the hole in the armor, the achilles heel. Swiftly, sucking in his stomach to avoid the large canines from reaching any deeper into his flesh from about the thick leather belt, he brought his hand down and plunged the three needles into the jaguar’s exposed neck. A thumb quickly moved between all three of them, pressing the mechanism that shot the sedatives out of the needles and coursing through the jaguar and now… all he could do was hope that it would’ve been enough. ‘Then again, you can’t be reasoned with either, can you boy?’

It was barely a sting, an inconvenience. Small animals had done more damage. The jaguar felt it, sharp against its broad neck, but wasn’t detracted from what was attempting to do, which was to tear through the man’s abdomen. The human was strong opposition, however. Stronger than any other human it had encountered before, even with his wounded flesh dangling between them. And maybe that’s what his distinct blood meant. The struggle for dominance was more balanced than originally perceived. 

The agent introduced to its system took time to spread to, time where the jaguar continued thrashing about with furious strength, fangs and claws still sharp and damaging, but its movements growing heavier and erratic. A calming haze overtook the creature soon enough, full weight tipping against the human’s body. Something tried pushing against the surface, keep the monster awake. It banged tirelessly against the wall that was the human and beast psyche. Hopeless in its pursuit. 

The beast was drowsy, confused as to why its senses were suddenly numb. His scent weakened in its nose. Its mouth wouldn’t open to deliver the final blow. Limbs gave out and the massive weight fell, a booming noise disrupting the quiet night as it hit the ground. The animal had been rendered useless, completely lulled into a peaceful slumber. At the hunter’s mercy.

The distribution of the sedative through the jaguar was excruciatingly long, or so it felt to Parker as the Warden abandoned the daggers in the big cat’s neck in favor of putting a strong hand against its throat in an effort to keep the wide maw, dripping with saliva and his blood, from causing a more severe injury to his abdomen. His expression did change this time, allowing himself to show more strain as he felt the claws haphazardly tearing into him, the teeth moving under his skin carelessly. For a moment, he wondered if it had been enough, if he should start making peace with his inevitable, yet premature death that night. Then another moment passed, and another, and another as he resisted the weight of the big cat as best he could. Then… less effort. Slowed movements. Claws were retracted and bite force applied lightened pressure against his belt and his stomach. The beast leaned into him, forcibly oozing blood from the multiple holes and shredded gashes the giant claws had punctured into him and he even allowed a ghost of a whimper to escape as his dislocated shoulder was given even less space. And with a final confirmation that the sedative had, indeed, worked, the spotted apex predator fell at his feet. Immediately, Parker gasped for air and he carefully took a couple of stumbling steps away from the jaguar, speckling his belt and the forest floor with his blood. Where he could already feel some of the more superficial wounds starting to knit themselves together and would probably be just faint memories by the following day, he knew the teeth marks in his stomach would probably leave lasting marks and he really should’ve taken the time to stitch yet more jaguar claw marks that found themselves on his arm but he was working under more borrowed time; he only had two sedatives left, that he was sure to use if he needed them.

For now, the Warden got onto the ground quickly, wincing as he felt his muscles rippling under, attempting to relax his muscles. ‘If you need to relocate your shoulder, lay on the ground and relax,’ he heard his mother’s kind, yet firm instructions in his ear; she was always commanding and never seemed to underplay the importance of what she was teaching himself and Walker. ‘Slowly reach the dislocated arm over your head, eventually placing it behind your head.’ Breathing deeply, ignoring the throbbing all over his body, he did so. ‘If you feel pain, you’re going too fast.’ He didn’t, not there, not any more than was usual for the four rivets in his shoulder and bicep. ‘Now reach for your opposite shoulder.’ With a loud pop and a sharp gasp, Parker’s shoulder snapped back into place and he could move all his fingers again.

He didn’t think anything further of the action; he wasn’t proud, relieved or satisfied. No, he only felt purpose and drive as his sharp blue eyes darted back over to the now-sleeping jungle cat. Flexing the feeling back into his fingers, Parker pulled out his usual tools with the exception of the iron dagger used for cauterization and he got to work. He moved fast, but carefully, not allowing himself to get distracted by the beauty of the tail; he was close. He was so close. As he worked, he thought of Wildcat’s melanistic tail, how the black was dappled and swirled with the orange; he thought about how he had made so many mistakes the first time that he was sure not to rectify now and indeed, he ended up using both of his extra daggers as an extra safety precaution.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed as he worked in the dark, eerily still forest night, a surgeon of obsession and beauty harvesting from another participant who couldn’t appreciate what it possessed the way Parker could. But by the time he finished, his hands coated in the jaguar’s blood now instead of his own, he cleaned his tools on one of the two sleeves he’d torn from his shirt. Using the same sleeve, he carefully and securely wrapped it around the bleeding stump, the last remnant of the beautiful, long tail that was now in his possession. He didn’t thank the jungle cat, but as he got to his feet and even more carefully slid the tail into the other sleeve, he did regard it. The sleeping form, the powerful jaws, the thick pelt.

Parker removed his gaze from the jaguar and glanced around the area briefly for any tools he might’ve left behind and when he made sure there weren’t any this time, he turned and started to skulk off, breathing deeply through his nose to keep his trembling hands that were caked with drying blood from tearing themselves up in fervent attempts to scrape it off. He’d need to find a stream on his way to his Workshop.

The jaguar felt no pain, remaining blissfully numb as the hunter worked on slashing its tail. The sedative effect of the darts continued long after he was gone, carrying his new token with him. Hours passed, the pool of blood dried, and the jaguar was peacefully overtaken by its human counterpart. 

Nicole didn’t wake until the colors of dawn splashed the sky. Her muscles were more rigid than usual, hard to achieve considering her job. Her eyelids were so heavy and stubborn, she debated going back to sleep. But she hadn’t been asleep, right? She wasn’t in a comfortable mattress next to Leah. Nor in the beat up sleeping bag she used for work. The memories of the previous night came flooding back. She was— She had gone out, it was time to let the jaguar free. Right. It made sense, how disoriented she felt. How loud every noise reached her ears, how every scent prickled her nose, or how the light might be too bright for her eyes. It always took a few moments to recalibrate after the spirit had taken over. She felt nauseated, mouth dry, neck aching like she slept in the wrong position. It hadn’t felt this bad since— She refused to entertain her painful memories so early in the day. She had a full shift to get through. The jaguar must’ve had fun during its outing. Caught prey or— she didn’t care. The jaguar could do what it pleased, they weren’t a unit.   

Nicole stirred, attempting to stretch, but a sharp pain struck her abdomen. Her eyes were wide open a beat later. Glancing down at the cuts and scratches in her stomach, dried blood mixing with the damp soil. Fuck? She jolted up, to her knees, examining her wounds. It was…bad, but nothing too deep. Nothing Leah’s tears couldn’t fix in a few hours. It stung, burned as a finger poked with curiosity, but it wasn’t the worst pain she’d ever felt. Not even close. The jaguar must’ve wrestled a few animals. The logical, most obvious explanation for her state. It made sense. She couldn’t stay all day lingering on what the beast got up to. She needed to gather her bag and items and go find her car, needed a warm shower to soothe her stiff body. Her muscles tensed, readying herself to get up. And—

Something felt wrong. No, something was wrong. 

It was as if her pelvis was trying to split open. Nicole never imagined she’d had to feel something like that. If that was something that could be felt at all. She gritted her teeth, heaving as she passed the wave of throbbing pain in her lower back. It pulsed for a moment and then it was gone. Nicole didn’t stop panting, breathing hijacked by the anxiety wrapping around her ribcage. Another cut maybe? She reached behind her, palming the expanse of her back. It completely smooth and clean, save for old scars and the remnants of forest floor. Phantom pain. But why would— Her eyes spotted a piece of cloth on the ground, stained with blood. Small needles scattered not far away. An animal wouldn’t leave that, would they? She blinked, wondering what she was missing. but before the puzzle pieces could connect, the worst, most excruciating pain she’d ever felt shot up her spine. 

The air got knocked out of her lungs, her heart beat out of her ears. She shrunk on the ground begging for it to pass quickly. It didn’t, only intensified, every nerve ending on fire. Nothing stopped the scream that ripped her throat raw, sounds of agony piercing the quiet morning, scaring the remaining animals witnessing her torture. She was dizzy with pain, losing her breath, unable to wrap her mind around what could possibly explain this. 

Then it all went back to black again.

[thelustybraavosimaid]

content warning: animal death

...

The bi-weekly trek into the forest felt different without her companion, but he was an old boy and needed as much sleep as he could get. On the contrary, Vala's body buzzed with restlessness, eager for some fresh air if only for a brief moment.

Pain and anxiety were all that welcomed her every time she opened her front door.

How she longed for better days...

She followed the trail she normally had, imagining her Anders walking beside her, human and cat, foot-and-pawprints marking their ritualistic path. But a new passage caught her eyes: a deviated trail she cannot recall having seen before, the bare track leading somewhere deeper into a thicket of trees. It was clear that others had made the journey before, but grasses were beginning to reclaim the walkway. And now something—someone—beckoned her closer.

Vala found it hard to disobey.

I'll be home soon, Anders, she whispered so low it was as if she only promised it in her mind. She embarked on the sudden detour, permitting the guidance of fate's strings.

The path was shorter than she expected. A copse of trees appeared almost separate from the rest of the forest, comprising entirely of great birch and oak trees. The Sun's rays revealed the telltale gaps of their crown shyness. In contrast, their roots tangled and rose from the ground, making the terrain difficult to navigate. At the centre of them all, though, was a figure carved of stone, with their left hand outstretched as if to greet or to bind a deal. The angles of its face was largely covered by an elegantly crafted robe, and the being's fingers were heavily weathered and chipped by the elements. Behind it was a grand sprouted wing on the right side of their body, its left-sided companion broken and shattered upon the earth.

She studied it more. This was clearly old, but how long had it been here? Vala took careful steps between the colossal roots, reaching forward to let her fingers graze the soft mounds of stone-clinging moss. The little plants filled in the chinks that were battered smooth by heavy rains.

This was a shrine, she gasped in wonderment, perhaps to some ancient deity? But what god—or goddess—did this belong to? Vala wished she had a notebook to sketch the area, the familiar drive to do research lessening her burgeoning anxiety.

"No one has visited my shrine in centuries," a voice whispered. "Your arrival is most fascinating."

Vala jumped back, retreating her mahogany-toned hand. She was unsure where the voice was coming from; it had seemingly originated from all sides. "Who's there?"

Whoever it was, they had not deigned to answer. "Come closer, little one."

Was that mirth she heard?

She felt something pull her closer—some invisible string that involuntarily made her obey. Above the silence, she felt the thunder of her heart in her chest, the roar of its beat fill her ears. Below her, crickets and cicadas sang, and the thrum of deer trotting past her dulled in the greenery, a pulse of its own. Vala drew a breath, inhaling the smell of raw earth and petrichor.

"What do you consider yourself?" She asked after a fashion. "Male? Female? How should I address you?"

"I have never been confined to such labels," they said. Dark tendrils curved until it appeared as if blackened arms burst from the mossy stone. She took a hesitant step back. "It would please me more if you called me Roth."

"Roth." The name was not a familiar taste. It was then that she wished she was a theologian rather than an ecologist.

"Yes," they replied, their disembodied voice jolting her from her thoughts. The voice was calm, peaceful, perhaps deceptively so. "I am the deity of bargains."

"God? Goddess?"

"You asked something similar already," they pointed out. "The answer remains the same, mortal: It does not matter."

"Okay," she reached up to wrap a long loc around a cluster of dreads to keep them from obscuring her vision. Vala took a long, shaky breath, unsure how to truly proceed. She never thought herself a religious person—how does one speak to a deity? "Well, what kind of bargains, then?"

"You seem interested—and interesting besides." The voice sounded half-amused. "Intriguing. Bargains are not ideas to toy with, not from me, at least. The ones I provide are not light in nature; equivalent exchange is required."

She bit down on her full lip before she cleared her throat. "What kind of 'equivalent exchange'?"

"A sacrifice."

Vala couldn't deny how the blunt response made her tremble. "Of?"

"A soul of the one you love most. Then I will grant you whatever your own desires."

She was thoughtful. "Whatever my own desires?"

"So long as the weight of the wish equals that of the soul given, yes." More of the figure began showing itself. Legs sprouted from the bottom, and soon the arms pushed on the stone to break itself free. It was not long before Vala faced an obscure figure all in black, reminiscent of their stony representation; the shadow of its essence dripped from its cloaked, slender figure like a soft rain. Pale fog crept on the ground, drifting forward to kiss her feet.

"What determines the weight of a soul?"

"More often than not, love and fulfillment, as I have mentioned before," Roth responded. "They are the more clear factors. The closer one is to you, and what that being represents, is an effective determinative guide. Their weight is always scaled against your feelings towards them."

Love and fulfillment. What a being represents. Vala's gaze went skyward as she chewed her lip. The sun was dipping below the horizon, dyeing the underbellies of clouds to hues of brilliant pinks, oranges, and blues.

The tranquility was offset by the disturbing burden of choice.

"May I return?"

"I will remain where I have since time immemorial, human. Humour an old being with your presence soon." They paused as if in deep contemplation. "Overmorrow, perhaps."

She turned away, heading back down towards home. She turned on her phone's flashlight, listening to the crickets chirp while she returned to her quaint apartment.

What the hell is this? She wanted to ask herself, closing the door behind her. This type of thing absolutely does not happen under any circumstances, she was sure of it. Vala had dwelled in that forest thousands of times before—with her superstitious grandmother, with her childhood friends, with Anders—and never before had she seen that...shrine. It was remarkably clean for something that was as ancient and neglected as the bargaining being had claimed. Mosses could thrive anywhere, so long as sufficient enough water was present, so it wasn't the best indicator of how old the area was. But still...

How could she have missed it?

No, she chided herself. Stop! Don't give it any more thought. This is stupid. All of it is! I was talking to a statue as if it lived!

She was just losing her mind...

...wasn't she...?

----

She tried not to think of Roth or their shrine all day. The figure was bizarre—cloaked as if it had been Death itself—yet claimed to be a humble deity of bargains. They permeated her dreams, almost urging her return. As she woke, Vala ignored it for a little longer than an hour, until her gaze fell upon Anders.

The Norwegian forest cat was old; she had him since her tenth birthday, and she was well on her way to thirty now, and the age of her large, precious boy was beginning to show. Usually, she'd put a harness on his form and together they'd explore the great outdoors, as they had for well over a decade, and she'd have a laugh over her fellow hikers' perceived novelty of walking a cat. Of late, though, his osteoarthritis killed his desire to even so much as move in his advanced age, and he was in a constant state of pain. It showed in the dulling blue of his eyes, in his worsening limp. Vala had taken to carrying him instead, or placed him into his own special stroller so they could go outside. It may have lessened the strain on his joints, but he was still in endless agony.

Vala ran her fingers through his nearly solid white fur, on the verge of tears when clumps of hair effortlessly clung to her digits. She drew away to scoop a can of wet food in his bowl and mashed the paté just the way he liked it. Setting it in front of him so he wouldn't have to move so much, she waited for him to respond.

Anders rose his freckled pink nose to smell the air, but did not eat. A cloying scent clung to him as if it were his personal perfume, getting stronger by the day.

He had not eaten, or drank, or even went to the bathroom since yesterday, electing instead to sleep.

It was all he did anymore.

Dread filled her, twisting her stomach into painful knots.

Her beloved was dying, and she'd be alone.

Again.

----

"You have returned," Roth greeted, almost sympathetic. They hovered above their own statue, folding a ghostly leg over the other. More ink black shadows dripped from them, falling to the ground white as milk. "On the overmorrow, as I had predicted."

The voice that responded was far stronger than she truly felt. "A sacrifice for a wish, is that what you said?"

"Yes, mortal," Roth cocked their head, letting the hood slightly slip to expose a greyed cheek and a lock of perpetually wet black hair. "As the bargain begins. As it shall always be."

"I have a request, though," she extended her arms, showing Roth the furry bundle struggling to breathe. A weak mewl tumbled into the air. "I want the wish first."

A silence draped over them for a lengthy moment. "You do understand that your plea is...unconventional, yes?"

"I do." Carefully, she brought Anders closer to her body. "But he is in agony. He's all that I have left...all I wish is that you take his pain from him, Roth." Her voice cracked, scraped raw with sorrow. "He's hurting."

"That is what you wish? So be it, then. Still, I will require a sacrifice."

"I know. The sacrifice is Anders himself." Scalding tears streamed down her cheeks and her voice warbled. She didn't want to part from him, not now, not ever, but it would not do to play god in the face of death. "I—I brought food and want him to depart with a full belly. I want his final moments to be as content as possible."

Carefully, she laid him down at Roth's ghostly feet, pausing. From the corner of her eyes, she noticed him raise his gaze toward Roth and their statue, but they lowered soon after to return to rest, his gentle meow hoarse.

"Please, Roth. Please." I can't take seeing him like this anymore.

They floated down in silence, towering over them both. Roth's left hand slipped through hers, only briefly; their touch was cold, but she felt a jolt of a promised contract. They retreated from the embrace.

The wraith-deity knelt. Their hand caressed Anders's head, scratching gently behind an ear before running their palm down the length of his spine. The cat gave a half-hearted purr, eyes closing further. Vala had half expected some grand show, some kind of glow from their blackened fingertips, but nothing resembling such had ever happened. It wasn't long before Roth withdrew their touch.

"It is done," they told her, righting their position. "His suffering ebbs as we speak." She could almost feel the ghost heat of their gaze fall upon her, even though the whole of their face was obscured by their hooded robe. "Curious. I was almost certain you would request more time with him."

"That was possible?" She wished she had thought of that.

"Somewhat, but it would have been an unwise petition. It was Death's mission to claim him, and They cannot be avoided, only deferred. Do you understand?"

She wished she hadn't. Vala only nodded as she reached in his stroller and pulled out a single can of wet food, resting it in front of his face. To her delight, Anders slowly began to rise, bending his head to eat. She stroked his back, murmuring words of praise while he purred. Vala pet behind his ears and under his chin, massaged the crown of his head, and then scratched the singular orange spot near the base of his tail. He raised his hips, then settled back down.

My sweet boy...

She swallowed the lump in her throat, struggling to even her breath. The lump returned thicker than before and her hands shook. I hope you know how much I love you, Anders.

When he finished, he rested his head back upon the earth and found sleep again, this time eternally.

Vala's breath trembled. I must be strong. I must. Sweat accumulated from the evening heat slipped from her brow and stung her eyes, mingling with the tears that lingered. A sob threatened to burst from her throat. "Th-thank you, Roth."

"How polite you mortals can be. This is a thankless act. The exchange is done, the transaction complete." The deity gave a respectful bow of their head. "Take heart in knowing your beloved adored you as much as you had him. You can rest now."

The unbearable size of grief was too heavy to allow her true rest, though. It weighed down her footfalls and despair sapped the once healthy glow of her skin. How could she rest when the place she called home was so empty, so...lifeless? How, when reminders of him filled every room? When she picked up the toys he had mangled and slept on over the years? The flow of her tears did not cease, not even as she tried to sleep. And yet, through her fitful rest, Roth approached her one last time.

"Your Anders dwells in Death's domain," they told her. Their voice remained barely above a whisper, soft yet assuredly strong. It echoed as it carried in the breeze. "But Death took pity on you both. His spirit is always with you, mortal. Be sure to mind your feet."

Mind my feet? Vala peered down, and curled around her leg was a ghost, its form translucent but visible enough to make out the vague shape of a large, fluffy cat. It rose and nudged her calf with its head, their tail wrapping around the limb.

It was him.

Anders.

Even deep in her dream, she felt her breath catch in her throat.

It would have to be enough.

[m0r1bund]

[Image: The monk, Makame Asanttu, out on the ash tundra. He clutches the heart of a dead god and struggles through an ash drift. The weight of his burden hangs over him like an impenetrable shadow; long has the Great Beast of All Men waited for his heart to be returned to him. Or so it seems, anyway.]

◆ 

For some reason, our man Makame Asanttu and The Great Beast of All Men wrestled me into a chokehold and made me draw them for 3 or 4 days.

For those who don’t know: Makame is a monk from the city of Basedt, which has been isolated from the outside world for 100 years by an eternal storm and a hateful ash tundra. Cinte is the god who created the storm, the tundra, and a lot of other very bad things. Everyone hates him and he hates everyone. And I guess Makame does too, until he doesn’t. You can read more about Basedt and its characters here.

Anyway. It’s been a long time since I last talked about them and things change, so get ready for diction with a side of pictures. You know how it is with Basedt.

◆ 

This was the first piece I drew so I guess it’s a good one to get caught up to speed with.

Makame is part of Basedt’s Stormwall, or Wall Watch. The Watch keeps an eye on the wall that surrounds Basedt, which keeps the ash tundra out and a relatively normal vestige of the old world in. They’re also the only individuals permitted to leave the city and study the world outside.

Makame is a ranking monk (”captain”) of the Stormwall, and probably the only person in Basedt to spend as much time as he has in the ash tundra and come back alive. Even among the pariahs of the Stormwall, he’s considered a weird person, very “woods-touched.”

He doesn’t seem to mind, though. He’s ornery, asocial, and perfectly comfortable being alone for long stretches of time, traits which make him a great woodsman and a bad leader. He’s mostly in this position because it gives him freedom to do what he will, and because Basedt doesn’t have a choice; He’s the best man they have in figuring out what the hell is going on outside the city walls.

It’s unsurprising, then, when Makame becomes the target of powers outside the wall that he barely understands. His time in the tundra catches the attention of the Manazthati, a death cult trying to rebuild the shattered god who brought the sky crashing down on them. They identify a certain… uh… morbid fascination with the abyss in the monk, and use that to manipulate him. Through this, he is compelled to recover the heart of the dead god, Cinte, which is interred somewhere in Basedt.

It is the only fragment of Cinte that they have no hope of recovering by themselves; the Manazthati are barred from Basedt as outsiders. So, preying on Makame’s sense of faith and unique brand of Basedti ignorance seems like a straightforward path to an easy victory.

‘Course, things don’t always go according to plan. Makame does recover the heart, but when he takes it outside of Basedt, it quickly becomes apparent that this was a Very Bad Idea. He takes it where he has been compelled to take it, but he does not do as he has been compelled to do. Instead he takes off into the woods, disoriented, and the inveterate woodsman becomes lost for the first time in his memory ▶︎

Edit: ACK. my mental draft of this included something that I forgot to add until just now! The hand-shaped boughs of the black woods are inspired by this piece of giftart that Charcoal / flugmunk did for me :)

[alienisticxo]

Kismet

{Master Chief x Reader - One Shot}

{A╱N} i was listening to a very dramatic slowed and reverb’d song when this idea popped into my head. i myself am dramatic and constantly longing to have my consciousness uploaded into a sexy spartan until i die of rampancy, and so Kismet was penned.

a little backstory (because if i turned this into a series we’d be here forever, just look at 'Before the Fever'— but if you want that i can totally do that too!): you’re a human, kidnapped by The Covenant and integrated with the most advanced form of A.I. in the galaxy to become their own version of Cortana meets Spartan. *inhales.* but instead of using physical strength, you’re like a technological god. also you’ve managed to never learn Chief’s name somehow- that’s pertinent for this one lol. he’s just a Spartan to you, i guess.

i had pablo’s chief in mind as the main inspo for this, but i believe it can pair with either chief you prefer, because when I read it back to edit it, I kept hearing blue team chief, too.

no warnings here- its pretty tame. also on ao3♡

{gifs via j-elaine-hyde}

anyway, i hope you enjoy my odd little first person pov, completely non-canon idea. ♡

“All of this.. All that I create... It’s all that I am,” I whispered.

“You’re more than that,” was all The Master Chief murmured through his helmet, a gloved hand resting over my own against his armored chest.  

It should’ve offered some sense of solace, some comfort to ease the pain. But all I could think of was the detriment I was to anyone and everything around me.

Our discreet confessions to one another were sudden, though they’d been a long time coming. Once the Treaty of 2552 was established, we worked closely with each other, The Spartan and his team often being sent to High Charity for various reasons.

As time ticked on and feelings progressed, it all became too much— got too out of hand. I wasn’t in a position to.. to fall in love.

He certainly wasn’t, either.

I shook my head, my frustration beginning to peak.

“And you know what I can do with it?” I continued despite his sentiment, my visage full of anguish as I tried to bring him to understand.

My hand trailed off of his chest as I slowly crossed toward the edge of the balcony, the absence of his hand over mine felt in the depths of my heart. The floor length dress I wore swept around my feet as I willed myself to stare at all that I had created in my manic fit to show him just what I was capable of.  

Holograms with classified information, various technological objects, weapons and crafts, architectural creations and inhuman life forms I’d called upon— all stilled, suspended in midair. It looked as though there had been an explosion of code, the device that contained it disintegrating and forcing its contents into real time. The electricity, the vibrant awakening feeling that surrounded us was thick enough to taste. But looking upon the power I embodied held a hint of sorrow. Where I had normally been awash with pride, amusement, I was now engulfed in hopelessness.

In one swift movement, I raised my hand once more, hesitating, hoping to feel something, anything, that might stop me from what I was about to do. But even if that sensation ever had appeared, making my point to 117 was more important. He had to know the severity of my existence.

He had to.  

And so, bringing my hand down again with force, I watched as everything I had created so quickly, so effortlessly, I destroyed just as easily. Earth shattering damage sprawling for miles beyond what I had just breathed life into. Lives were lost. Long time projects eradicated. It was only a matter of time before they questioned me, now.

Everything seemed to crumble before us—  disappear in flecks of disembodied light, fracturing under the pressure of my own hand. The crackling and sparking sounds of every element before us sounded like nails on a chalkboard to me as it all fell apart. I left nothing in my wake but destruction and carnage. When I reached my end, when my programming started to falter, it would only get worse.

He had to know.  

Not an ounce of guilt became me otherwise. I’d been billed as unkind, cruel, uncaring of any life, biological or artificial. I was a warning in and of itself. But this time, I had only done it to prove myself. To show The Spartan just how dangerous I really could be.

How could he not believe me after everything we’d been through? After all the battles fought and won? Why would he make me show him this way?

There was no way he had been so oblivious, no way he could trust me as much as he seemed to. Yet, he still seemed to hold out some kind of unspoken faith in me. It was more than anyone ever had.

And I couldn’t turn around. I couldn’t face him. Everything I touched, I could erase… As though it never existed at all. I didn’t want to watch him make that realization. I couldn’t bear to see him turn around.

“I can destroy it all in the blink of an eye,” I maintained as though he couldn’t already see the proof; my voice soft, yet, emphatic with hurt.

My eyes grew glassy as I stared at the wreckage of what was left. Absorbing the situation I found myself in, I took a few steps backward, running my hands back through my hair. With an exhale, I gripped onto my roots, pulling gently as I dipped my head forward.

My hands were weapons, my mind the same. As much as I wanted him to be, as much as I wanted to keep him forever, he wasn’t safe with me. He never would be.

He never could be.

The galaxy seemed to spin around me as I felt a sob making its way through my chest. My knees hit the stone flooring, my face in my hands then. There was no concealing the devastation I felt; the disappointment. I’d never wanted for anything, let alone anyone.

It was so unfair, what they’d done to me; what I had become at the hands of The Covenant. It never bothered me before, to be a weapon, a leader. Useful only until imminent deletion once I was no longer needed. I had no idea the kismet set in place– what was written in the stars for me that laid ahead.

Teardrops fell from my eyes like stars burning into the atmosphere. But where I thought I’d hear them disappear, I heard The Master Chief’s footsteps nearing instead. The Mjolnir he wore rubbed together as he knelt down beside me, and there was a quiet hiss before his helmet was placed on the floor. I simply stared at the piece of armor, unable to will myself to look up, to look into the face of the man I had fallen in love with after all this time..

If I did, I would’ve completely sealed both of our fates.

We both knew that.

“Don’t let me do that to you,” I whispered through my emotion, staring only at the golden shield of the sturdy design. “Don’t let me do that to you.”

His hand slowly reached beneath my chin, gentle fingers tipping it upward and sideways to face him. It always surprised me how fragile he treated me despite the tough reputation that preceded him. I kept my eyes cast downward, not wanting to solidify things to the point of no return.

Not wanting to be the thing that kills him in the end.

For having been built into something so mechanical, so artificially augmented, everything felt so.. real, again.

“Look at me,” he said, his tone soft, a rare occurrence I’d only experienced in brief stolen moments alone.

My lip trembled, a warm tear rolling off of my chin. So badly did I want to, need to. I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Despite everything they’d said about me, to me— I cared too much about The Master Chief.

“Please..” he asked again, an edge of desperation in his voice.

Swallowing hard, I squeezed my eyes shut, the wetness matting my eyelashes.

“{Y/N}…” he whispered, pleading with me.

That was something I’d never heard from him before. Something no one in the universe thought ‘The Demon’ was capable of, no matter what side you were on.

My heart, what was left of it, mercilessly pulled at me to oblige. Cautiously, very extremely slowly, as though it might somehow change the outcome of our destinies, my {e/c} eyes made their way upward. They fell on the Mjolnir that encased his strong frame; the number that he wore with pride on his chest.. the new sight of flesh on his neck, the way his jawline cut just above it, covered in stubble, his lips— slightly downturned from his own melancholy due to the circumstance.. his vibrant eyes…

Oh, his eyes..

I was completely and irrevocably captivated all at once, a willing victim to his stare. Wrapped up in all that he was beneath the helmet, it was clear we both knew just what we’d gotten ourselves into. The entire universe stood still the second our eyes finally met without the familiar barrier between us to keep the desire at bay. Nothing else mattered, nothing else existed.

Just him, and I.

There were a million stirrings to be felt, acted upon, but all I wanted was to get lost in the moment for as long as we possibly could. Before things got more complicated, before I succumbed to any malfunction within my code.

“Chief,” I whispered between another faint sob.

“John,” he breathed, a careful thumb running underneath my eye. “It’s John.”

“John..”

The faintest of smiles touched my lips at the sound of his name rolling off of my tongue. Even if I’d wanted to, there was no ounce of strength within any fiber of my being that would allow our eyes to part. He was the most beautiful thing, man, I’d ever had the honor of viewing. My heart hammered in my ribcage as his hand slid further along my jaw, trailing to the nape of my neck.

“There’s nothing I won’t do to fix this. To save you.”

Another thick tear rolled over my cheekbone.

“You can’t,” I murmured softly, my breath hitching in my chest. “There’s no saving me anymore.. This is all part of their plan. I’m.. I’m sorry you’ve been caught up in it. You have to go— save yourself.. They’ll assume you know too much.. They’ll turn on your kind again.”

It killed me to have to explain, to feel less than the mere human I used to be. Most of all, to attempt to let him go forever.

He shook his head, studying every curve and dip of my face as though he’d never seen another person before; as though he wanted to commit every piece of me to memory.

“If it has to end, I’d rather it be like this,” he stated. “At least I can try to help you.”

“You don’t always have to be so noble… You’ve done everything for the UNSC. For humanity. Think of yourself for once.”

“I am,” he began, his register low and gruff. “And I want you. No matter what that means.”

“They’re going to delete me, John,” I painfully reminded him.

His expression was hard, concealing more than I knew he’d ever let on to me.

“Not if I can help it.”

[ivycrowned]

A HEART BETWEEN HORNS

Part One [x]

When I woke up the world was swaying. For some moments I remained laying in the softest bed I’d ever known, staring at a pale wooden ceiling I didn’t recognize. The knowledge of where I was hovered just out of reach. And I was content not to go looking for it.

But then someone cleared their throat, and I sat up so fast it made my head spin. I clutched at a carved wooden headboard to keep myself upright and fought to focus. The room was full of silvery moonlight from a large set of windows, and in the shadows I could just make out a tall sort of spindly shape. 

I froze. 

“Ah, good, you’re awake,” the shape said. Their voice made me think of cornhusks, of all things. The whispering, papery sound they made in the wind. “Now – please don’t scream, Princess?”

The note of uncertainty in their voice kept me calmer than I might have been had they sounded annoyed. 

“Give – give me a moment, if you would,” I said. And they did. Patiently waiting just beyond sight while I braced myself against the headboard. 

‘The hells,’ I thought. ‘You’re in the hells. It wasn’t a dream.’

Being asked not to scream merely makes you wonder why you would have. It’s a warning, yes, but not a very helpful one. And lord knew I wasn’t ready to be awake in a world where I was at the mercy of demons again. 

Not facing it wasn’t going to make it go away, though. So I let out a breath, and nodded. 

“Thank you.”

The speaker stepped out of the shadows and into the moonlight. My breath hitched in my throat, and they froze. But I did not scream. 

They were quite tall, like the Demon King, and long limbed. They also had spiraling horns that grew across the entire top of their head. Obscuring their eyes, and much of their skull. Of their face I could see half an aquiline nose, and thin lips. It was – startling. But not the kind of terrifying that I thought warranted a ‘please don’t scream’. 

We stared at each other for a moment. Well – at least I did. I wasn't sure about them – they certainly seemed to be looking at me, even though I didn’t see any eyes – until I caught a glimpse of brilliant green fire. Not, not fire – two disembodied eyes floated above and to either side of their head, glowing. They were the size of dinner plates, perhaps, and lidded and lashed as if they were part of another invisible face. 

This time I did make a sound. A sort of strangled squeak as my stomach swooped and twisted. My hands flew to my mouth, and I clutched at my face despite how my skin prickled and burned. My breath came out my nose in harsh snorts, like a horse on the edge of its sanity. 

Two more eyes opened, much closer to me, and I had to bite my tongue to keep from shrieking. I threw myself backwards, into the headboard and drew my knees up to my chest. A terrible ringing was starting in my ears. 

“I am Ocludei,” they said, their second set of eyes spinning out of existence. 

“B – Brenna,” I replied. Forcing the new fear down where it wouldn’t choke me. They were only eyes. They were only eyes.

“Brenna,” they repeated, their tone almost like a caress. I shivered.

 “I… I apologize, I’m being terribly rude.”

They waved one silver bedecked hand in dismissal. “It is only to be expected of a human.”

I wasn’t sure if this was meant as grace, or to sting me.

Done waiting for me to settle myself, they bustled about my bed which I only then realized was shaped like a boat. I focused on the engravings along the side – horses and waves all tangled together – and Ocludei promptly snatched up my hand. I flinched, but they didn’t drop it. Rather turned it this way and that, muttering under their breath. 

“Your hands at least are untouched. I suppose that’s because he offered you his elbow.”

I blinked up at them for a moment. Then my free hand flew to my face. Or it tried to. Ocludei’s other hand darted out and snatched mine away before I could. 

“Someone said my face –”

“Hush,” they said, gently. “I’ve healed it already. Our dear King sometimes forgets how fragile humans can be.”

“Then why can’t I touch it? I already have. When I – when I saw your eyes.” 

“It will still be tender, and questing fingers have unraveled my spells before,” they said, unyielding. “I did not stop you a moment ago as you were panicking. I shall fetch you a mirror if you’re truly worried.”

Bit by bit my heart was beginning to slow. I let out a long breath, head craning to meet their floating eyes. Only eyes. There were worse things. Like whatever lay within the portal. 

“There’s no need.”

I could still see, and speak. If my face was changed, well, it wasn’t exactly an asset to worry over. Not here. Who knew what demons considered lovely? And even now there was no promise of my survival. 

Ocludei released my hands. “If you’re certain?”

I nodded and climbed out of the bed. Only to stumble immediately, as the floor pitched. Thankfully I caught myself on the wall, because Ocludei made no move to help me. In fact they’d drawn back quite a distance, their hovering eyes thin slits in the air that followed my every move. 

My gown was the same I’d been wearing since the announcement. Now much the worse for wear, the velvet blackened and spotted with little holes. A rain of sand fell down around me as I moved. I flushed, glancing back at the bed. Sure enough the sheets were also darkened with soot, and the divots where my body had rested were full of sand as well. 

No one even tried to change my soiled clothes.  On the one hand I was grateful. I did not want to be handled by a stranger. On the other I was… unsettled. Did they not want to touch me at all? Was I as repugnant to them as they were to people back home? 

I took a deep breath and made my staggering way to the door of the room. 

“The deck is littered with other demons,” Ocludei said dryly. “Are you certain you wish to leave the room?”

“I now live among them, so I shall simply have to – to get along with it.”

So saying I threw the door open and walked out among the other demons. Brave words aside I did not let my eyes linger on any of the demons outside. I had vague impressions of shadow, or fire. Too many limbs, insectoid. Leonine legs, or birdlike talons. Things that hurt my head to even glance at and swiftly fell out of my memory. My heart began to pound in my chest, my breath to come too quickly. I squeezed my eyes shut and fought to keep my balance. 

I could not lose my head at every new thing I glimpsed here. It would not endear me to them. 

“I see you’re awake.” 

The Demon King. 

I forced myself to open my eyes and meet his. They were bright yellow, yes, and he was horned and far too tall but he was still gratifyingly human in shape. “Y – yes, your Majesty,” I said in as normal a voice as I could manage. 

“Did Ocludei not warn you?”

“The Princess wished to test her mettle,” Ocludei said from somewhere behind me. “I was merely allowing her to do so.”

The Demon King’s eyes narrowed as he looked past me. I kept my eyes on his face. My head was still throbbing from the myriad sight of the other demons, and I didn’t want to chance it getting worse. 

“They did warn me,” I agreed. “I didn’t understand what they meant.”

I couldn’t blame Ocludei for my lack of understanding. 

“I see. Well – nevertheless, it is something I must see to. May I touch your face, Princess?”

“Apparently that disrupts healing magic,” I said, unconsciously mirroring Ocludei’s tone when they’d warned me at the door. 

The Demon King smiled. I had to fight very hard not to flinch. 

“Unlike humanity,” Ocludei said, “Our King is quite skilled at leaving magic alone. So I suppose he may touch you, should you deign to allow it, Princess.”

I could feel the blood rushing to my face. Once more I found myself staring into the empty eye sockets of the bird skull the King used as a cloak pin. “Why… why do you want to touch my face, Your Majesty?”

“So I can soften what your eyes see.”

My brows pulled together. “Is it a spell?”

“It will wear off with time, and allow you the chance to… acclimate to your new countrymen.”

I lifted my head again, frowning. “Are you not planning to kill me?”

The Demon King went still. And looking into his face now, I realized for the first time that I’d not yet seen him without some kind of good humor in his face. 

“Why would we kill you, Princess?”

A bitter laugh wrestled its way free of my tongue. “I am the third born daughter, Sire, my survival has never been important.”

Stupid. I shouldn’t have said that. While I expected to die – expected duplicity – I was still here to protect my people. I had a purpose. And that was something I’d never had before. So why, why was my tongue so determined to squander it? To paint my hands as bloody as his? 

My throat felt dry and jagged, stuffed with broken glass and saw dust. It choked off any apologies as sure as it did further bitterness. 

“If a third born daughter is of no use,” the King said, “Why would we want you?”

I couldn’t hear the gentleness of that question. Or perhaps I didn’t want to. That choking pressure in my throat tightened further, and I spun on my heel and ran back for the room I’d woken in. Each glimpse of the deck was another stab to my temples, another little pain. But that at least made a good excuse for tears. Because surely I wasn’t crying. 

I closed the door behind me, and slid down it, gasping for breath as if I’d run the length of the Kingdom rather than half a deck. 

I never should have told him I was third born. 

But it hadn’t occurred to me until it was too late that here in the hells Tristan might no longer haunt me. 

Tristan, who was two years older than I, but still eternally fourteen in my mind. The kind older brother. The one who laughed, and played with me and taught me his lessons and got away with it even when others objected. Because he was the dearly desired prince. He could do no wrong. Even our parents spared me a moment when he was with me.  

And then he grew very ill. Plague came to our country that year, and licked across the land like the tongues of a flame. No one in the palace had expected to contract it. But a cook or a stable boy who only worked in the palace, not lived there, brought it into our home. 

I’d caught the fever first.

I don’t remember it very well – the fire in my head from that fever consumed much of me, you see. But I’ll never forget waking alone in the nursery, covered in sweat, my hair a worse tangle than usual and my stomach a hard empty knot in me. I staggered to the hall, which was empty as the nursery. 

It took me a long time to find a guard. But no time at all to see that his uniform was black. 

I missed Tristan’s funeral. 

And if my parent’s barely noticed me before his death, afterwards it was like I was dead too. Like we were both down in the seaside catacombs. 

The fourth throne that had vanished one day was never mine. It was always Tristan’s. And I know it would have remained there forever had I not deigned to seat myself there one day during court. 

Perhaps you think me cruel for doing so. But by then Tristan had been dead for four years. I only wanted someone to look at me. Anyone at all. Even if it was with shock and horror. But no one had noticed. Except for to remove the throne by the next time I ventured to court. 

It would be easy to pin my invisibility on the fact that I had lived, and my brother had died. But – truthfully, I was little more than a painting to my family even before then. 

I clung to the pendant my sister gave me, and curled against the door with my eyes closed for a long time. Thinking of things I could not change. Agonizing over the few words I’d spoken since arriving. 

There came a knock at the door behind me. I nearly jumped out of my skin. Then rushed to stand, only barely remembering not to scrub at my face. I did not know much about this place, but I suspected Ocludei’s ire was not something I wanted. 

I stared at the door, expecting it to open. 

There was a long uncomfortable pause – on my end anyway – then the knocking came again. 

“Princess?”

A familiar voice, though I couldn’t yet place it. 

“Y – yes?”

“May I come in?”

I worried at my lower lip with my teeth and folded my arms. Surely whoever they were wouldn’t ask if their visage would harm me. Right? I took a deep breath and large step backwards. 

“Yes.”

The door inched open, and a young man stepped inside. He had loose dark curls that tumbled nearly to his shoulders, and brilliant lantern-yellow eyes that seemed to swirl like flames. There were also three strange dark lines on his face – too at slight angles above his brows, and a third in a vertical line starting a little way down from his widow's peak. 

He wore dark leather trousers and a billowing white shirt that reminded me of some of the nobles back home. Before they gilded themselves for the day in all their finery. And he looked – almost normal. 

And then I saw the wings folded at his back. Pointed, and softly fuzzed – the wings of an emperor moth. 

“Are you – alright?” His voice was low and soft. Not like Ocludei’s, but – the way one's hands feel running across velvet. The sound of it made the blood rush to my face. Now I knew where I recognized his voice. 

“You – you’re the one who caught me,” I said. 

He smiled faintly. “Yes. I am Prince Aspen.”

“I am –”

He held up his hand, expression startled. “Giving your name is not a good idea, Princess. Do your people not know how dangerous that is?”

I stared. “Doesn’t everyone already know my names? They – My Father used them all at the announcement.”

“We do not,” he said solemnly. “Only my father knows. He is the only one who needs to, until you have decided who you can trust.”

My hands twisted together. I’d already given Ocludei one of my names. The one I liked most, in fact. 

The Prince looked down at me, gaze searching mine. The guilt must have been obvious on my face, for he sighed. “Who did you tell? Wait – don’t tell me. Only Ocludei has had the chance to talk to you, outside my father.”

“I didn’t realize –”

He shook his head, cutting me off again. A little seed of annoyance bloomed in me at that. I bit it back. 

“It isn’t your fault, Princess. Ocludei ought to have stopped you before you gave it to them.”

“Should I be concerned?” 

He shrugged. “They are many things, but most of all they are loyal to my father. That may not be a comfort to you now, but I’m certain it will be eventually.”

I nodded. Not agreeing with him, only acknowledging. 

He smiled again, faintly. “You have a terrible poker face, Princess, but you are quite good at not answering questions.”

Birdlike, my head tilted. “What?”

“And she asks me another,” he said, laughing. “I asked if you were alright?”

“Ocludei saw to my face,” I replied, staring. 

“That isn’t what I was asking.”

“Wasn’t it?”

He sighed, and all the doors in me slammed closed at the sound of it. I stiffened and lifted my head. I knew that sigh. I’d heard it from cooks when they found me trying to help in the kitchens. I’d heard it from the hostlers when I insisted on currying my own horse. 

“Can I help you, Prince Aspen?”

“It is I who wish to help you, Princess,” he said. Either not noticing my new posture or choosing to ignore it. “The spell my father offered is one you will dearly need if you don’t want to spend all your time locked away alone somewhere.”

“Do you have particular plans for me, then?” I asked – admittedly rather rude about it. Perhaps they weren’t going to kill me after all. But that didn’t mean I trusted them. They were the monsters, the invaders of my home. The reason I was not even now in kennels seeing a new litter of puppies. 

“I rather thought you might like to be more than a prisoner!” he said. “But of course, if that’s your preference I can certainly see you get your way, Princess.”

My eyes narrowed. ‘Princess’ had sounded less like a rank and more like an insult in that tone. “No.”

“No?”

“Cast the spell. I will not be locked away.” Silently, I added ‘again’ even though no doors had truly been locked to me in the palace. 

Aspen crossed the gap between us, lifting his hands to either side of my face in an elegant motion. I noted that his nails were long, black, and wickedly sharp. “May I touch your face?”

I shrugged. He didn’t move. 

That little seed of annoyance sprouted. 

“Yes, Prince Aspen, you may touch my face.”

He didn’t react to my snide tone. Inwardly I was horrified. Who was I to talk to him this way? A prince, and a demon, for god's sake. 

There was a faint pressure at my eye sockets as he ghosted his fingers over my skin, frowning faintly. “Don’t scream, please.”

“Every one of you should know how very discomfiting being told not to scream is –”

The three lines on his face opened, revealing three extra eyes. I nearly swallowed my tongue. I did not jerk away or even squeak however. Compared to Ocludei these were – fine. Almost hypnotizing, in fact –

My own eyes slid to half mast as Prince Aspen chanted under his breath. Minutes or hours passed in which I felt almost asleep. Then I fell out of his eyes and came back to myself. 

I stumbled back from him, but he caught my arm and kept me from falling. 

“Just breathe, Princess.”

“I am breathing,” I muttered. And caught a glimpse of his smile. And the fact that his other eyes had slid shut once more. Why? I knew they were there now. 

“You should be just fine amongst the others now,” he said, and the cheer in his voice reminded me of the Demon King. “Would you like to see the portal from this side, before we set sail for the capitol?”

I forced myself to move away from his grasp, and nodded. 

They weren’t going to kill me. And it seemed I would be allowed to move somewhat freely. So – so for the sake of my true countrymen, I needed to learn all I could. 

Even with a princess in the bargain, an Armistice couldn’t last forever. 

[jvblood]

head in the sand

pairing: argyle x reader

word count: 1.6k

summary: while at the beach you notice a head sticking from the sand. hmm, strange.

WARNINGS: fluff poorly poorly written fluff

a/n: when i tell you guys i literally been getting shmacked and haven't been doing nothing. then again im on a sorta vacation?? idk, all im trying to say is im sorry : (, i'll post more/when i can. love you all <33

“Alright, let’s go people!” Chandler shouts out as he waits by the front door. You grabbed your beach day essentials. Your bag is filled with sunscreen, a hair brush (just in case), water bottles, a beach towel, sunglasses and your wallet. Chandler’s girlfriend, Amy, already took the liberty to take care of the food situation, bless her heart. 

Everyone was planning on taking their separate cars but you all were following each other down to the beach. Danny and his boyfriend were in his car, waiting as well. Janet and Misty rushed out of the house, making their way to their car. You, low and behold the singular one, finally got out of the house and made your way to your car. 

Chandler closes the front door entrance and locks the house. He makes his way to his car with Amy sitting in it waiting for him. He hops into the passenger seat and Amy puts a thumbs up out the window. Danny puts his thumbs up, indicating he’s ready. Misty notices and puts her up as well.

 All that’s left is you. You tossed your stuff into the back of your car and hopped into the driver's seat. Just as you put your car into drive and seat belt attached, you stick your thumb out. With that, Amy takes her car out of drive and makes her way out of the neighborhood and onto main roads to the beach. 

Everyone follows behind her, not looking away just in case she’d take a turn and go a whole different route. Music playing through your car, you calmly watch the cars in front of you as you follow behind them. 

Before you even know it, you made it to the beach. As you finally put your car into park and got out of the car, you grabbed your things and headed to find your friends. The seven of you made it to a comfortable spot and laid down all of your essentials. Chandler and Amy, as soon as they got comfortable, ran into the ocean. Danny and Sam sit on the towels that they brought and Misty and Janet start on making sand castles. All that was left was you. 

You brought your shirt over your head. You put it inside of your bag and look around at what to do. You could join Misty and Janet but they already seem content with their sand castle. Danny and Sam were just laying down and talking but you don’t know what they’re talking about so it doesn’t seem appropriate to just walk into a conversation. Chandler and Amy were wrestling in the ocean. Trying to see who could drown the other first. Terrifying. 

Not really wanting to ruin your friends' time together with their own partner, you decided to walk along the sand. You trudge along the sand with your bag in hand until you see something that looks vaguely like a human head. As terrifying as it sounds, it was a human head. An alive one, at most. The hair in a high bun and the poor head leaned back trying to attempt to rest.

“Hello?” You greet the head.

“Oh my god, life!” The head exclaims. You assume his body is underneath there, you don’t really hope it’s a disembodied head just chilling in the sand. 

“Uhm, hello,” you start off, questions racing through your head, “are you okay?” 

“Oh yeah, I’m chilling dude.” The head answers back. You introduce yourself to him and he lets you know that his name is actually Argyle. You nod your head and sit down next to his head and rustle through your bag. You pluck out your sun screen and put some onto you, you nudge it towards him silently asking if he wanted some. “Shit, might as well.” He says, agreeing to the sunscreen. You put a dollop of sunscreen onto your hand and started applying it onto his face. “Do you want sunglasses or anything?” You ask.

“You got shades! Please, I need some.” He begs. You reach back into your bag for your glasses and place it on for him. “God–thank you, you are a lifesaver.” He says showing his gratitude. 

“So, where’s your friends?” You ask Argyle. 

“Oh, yeah. They’re over there.” He said, pointing with his tongue in the other direction. There you see three guys and a girl, sitting on their beach towels and eating snacks. 

“Okay, so, why are you in the sand?” 

“Well, I thought it would be fun, duh.” He says as if he was being clear enough. All you can do is nod your head and look left to right to watch your friends. 

“Those your bros?” He asks.

“Yeah.” You answer. 

“Why aren’t you hanging out with them?” 

“Well, I found this random head in the ground and haven’t decided if I should leave it be or give the head some water.” You tease. “Water! Water! Please, holy shit.” He exclaims. You laugh at his eagerness to get a swig. You reach into your bag and grab the water bottle, open it, and try to get him to drink as much as possible without drowning him. 

“You really are an angel, aren’t you.” He praises. 

“More like devil in disguise.” You joke. “Anything else before I head out?” 

“Yeah, actually, can you help me get out of here?” Argyle asks. You widen your eyes and think about it, yet in the end, you’re already here. Might as well. You begin by trying to remove as much sand as possible around his neck. You notice barley that this progress isn’t getting anywhere.

“Wait a second, how tall you are.” 

“I don’t know, like yay tall.” Argyle answers. 

“Jesus christ, that could mean anything, Argyle!” You whine. 

Thankfully as time slowly passed, you see that he could get at least one arm out. The two of you scream and shout at the fact that his arm is finally free and the two of you were high fiving. 

Meanwhile, Danny was watching you help Argyle out. He takes notice of how you were laughing with Argyle and simply tells Janet to look at you two. The two share a pointed look and continue with their own activities again.

For what felt like ages, you got Argyle’s second arm out thank god he could pull himself out of the sand.  Finally when he was freed from the sand shackles he began running around. Then, he ran towards you and lifted you into the air. The two of you were smiling wide as he was finally free. Little did you know when he was holding onto you, he was taking the two of you towards the ocean. 

Next thing you know is you’re being dunked into the water. The cold water surrounds you as if it was a blanket. As you come back to get a breath of fresh air, you see Argyle already above the water. You look at him and splash him. The two of you began to splash eachother even more. 

Meanwhile, Jonathan and Will are watching Argyle interact with you. Jonathan shakes his head in disbelief that his friend actually found someone to dig him out of the sand.

▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂▂ 

As time went on, it was time to head out. Argyle’s friends told him that they’ll be waiting for him in the van and your own said that they’re heading to their cars waiting. All that’s left is you and Argyle. 

“I had a lot of fun tonight.” You say. 

“Yeah, me too.” He huffs out. Argyle slowly is losing his ability to speak. This sort of thing always happens when he gets nervous. 

“Do you have like a pen or something?” You ask. Argyle stands there for a second, a smile on his face not leaving, then it hits him that you asked him a question. He tells you to follow him and he walks the two of you to the van. 

There you see Argyle’s friends. Well, Argyle’s friend, his siblings, and his sister's boyfriend. Argyle rustles through the van and finally finds a pen and a piece of paper. He hands it to you ever so graciously (more like out of breath and anxious) and you begin writing down your number. 

“Here you go.” You say handing the piece of paper to him. He looks down at it and your number is on it. 

“Uhm, when do you think I should call you? Like is there an appropriate day, or like a time where I can be, you know, calling you.” He stutters. You giggle at his nervousness and begin thinking. 

“I don’t know what time I’ll be home but maybe sometime tomorrow, you can call the number and I’ll hopefully be on the line.” You suggest. “Cool, cool, got it, super cool.” He goes on to say cool for about another thirty seconds and you take this time to leave. You wave goodbye to him as you make your way to your own car. You were smiling eye to eye and looking forward to seeing your own friends looking back at you. 

“Welcome back, Juliet.” Janet teases. You groan, feeling flushed that they were watching the whole thing. 

“So, we see you met a new friend.” Misty says, she smiles as she grabs your arm and intertwines with yours. 

“Whatever happened to stranger danger?” Danny questions. 

“It’s all forgotten if it’s love.” Sam tells him. 

“Well, someone needs to fix that shit because if it was me, lord knows I’m a goner.” Danny says as he enters his car. 

“Do not remember the first time we met?” Sam asks as he follows suit.  “Tell us all about him!” Amy says as she’s leaning against your door.

“I will,” you say “once we get back to someone’s house and chill.” Soon enough, all the girls headed to their designated vehicle and started them up. Everyone was following Amy yet again, driving back to her house. There in your own car, with your own feelings settling down. You figure out what to tell the group. Your cheeks were getting tired by the way you’ve been smiling ever since you left Argyle’s side. 

[vixenpen]

To Resist Temptation pt. 1

(THIS FIC IS RIDDLED WITH BLASPHEMY!! I, myself, am not religious (actually an atheist) but this idea has been on my mind for a while. It is never my intention to mock or disrespect anyone’s personal beliefs. With that said, if you are a person of faith this fic may not appeal to you. It’s not to be taken as a serious representation of the faith it portrays! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNEDDDD!!!!)

(Trigger warnings: religious themes, succubus, authority kink, degradation, god complex/kink)

(Art by: @kadeart )

You chanted your prayers of protection under your breath quietly.

Every nervous thud of your heart seemed to pound in your ears as you ascended the steps to the large white brick chapel.

“Keep yourself safe. Seek salvation, and temptation won’t overtake you.”

The temptation won’t overtake me.

The mantra echoed in your mind over and over.

You smoothed your dress, hoping you looked appropriate. The clingy Sunday sundress fell just above your knees and didn’t expose too much of your cleavage. Of course it was impossible for you not to look tempting. Even just a bit. It was in the switch of your hips. The gleam in your eyes. The natural scent you gave off. It was, quite literally, in your blood. Not that any of this was your choice...

You shook the thoughts away, opened the heavy door of the church, and slipped inside.

“To walk without God is to wander without a true purpose.”

The congregation responded accordingly with hums of approval and agreement. Keigo continued.

“To stray from god’s path is to—“

His amber eyes fell on the late comer. A woman who stood out against the mostly somberly dressed masses in her pastel church dress. She kept her head ducked as she found a seat in the front row. Once she faced him, a soft content smile settled on her beautiful face.

Oh...she was stunning...

Soft, smooth looking skin, eyes that smoldered, lush lips, hard nipple-

What? No. Not here. Not now.

Everybody was watching him. Waiting. Keigo hadn’t even realize that he’d stalled for so long. Reluctantly he dragged his gaze away from the beautiful new comer and continued his sermon.

“T-to stray from God’s path, is to invite unrest into your soul.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Keigo enjoyed these times best. The dark, contemplative silence of the confession booth. Just a holy man and God. The times between members coming to make their confessions felt peaceful and sacred.

He liked to stay behind a couple hours after service and a couple hours beforehand for his congregation. But it was just as much for himself as it was for them.

He rested against the wooden back, eyes closed in an almost meditative manner. Although his mind was far from clear. His thoughts kept wandering back to the mystery member who had slipped in late and gazed at him so enraptured. How her lips remained parted slightly, and everytime she crossed and uncrossed her legs, the hem of her dress rose a little more...

He shook his head mussing his tousled blonde hair even more. Those thoughts weren’t appropriate for a holy man. A man in such a sacred place. He couldn’t allow his mind to wander to such places.

The scuffling of someone entering the booth roused Keigo out of his thoughts.

“Um...hello?”

He held back a chuckle.

“Yes?”

“Oh! Uh, yes, hi! I’m sorry father I’ve never done this before.”

The disembodied female voice stammered nervously. Keigo squinted as he tried and failed to place the voice, and then he realized; it was you.

“Th-this is my first confession, and I’m not sure what to do. Can you help me?”

“O-of course,” he stammered back. He coached you through what to say, biting back a moan when you said: “Bless me father, for I have sinned.”

He pressed a hand to his stirring member. Sensing your hesitation. Your innocence despite the wicked beauty you possessed. How cute. How naive.

“This is a safe place, you can tell me what is troubling you.”

“Well...I have these urges..”

“What sort of urges?”

“It’s like...this hunger,” you replied, voice taking on a slight rasp that shot straight to the handsome priests dick. “I want,” your voice dropped into a soft whisper, “I want sex all the time. Day and night. Sometimes I see strangers and I want to give myself to them right then and there.”

Oh god...

Keigo’s mind was reeling from the salacious words dripping from your pretty mouth. He had known it. He knew someone that angelically beautiful couldn’t truly be innocent. It wasn’t natural. The magnetism you possessed in your swaying hips and the way it juxtaposed your soft expressions.

“F-father?”

Keigo coughed. “Um, yes. Go on,” he urged, “what do you envision yourself doing with these strangers?”

“Anything that could make them cum. The most depraved things. It’s as if I can see what people most desire sexually and it-it frightens me.”

You are a holy man, Keigo. A good man of faith.

The young priest told himself as his hard on strained.

“Father, what should I do? I don’t want to give in to the temptation. I don’t want to be corrupted or currupt others.”

“You must remember, that temptation is not sin itself.“ he replied.

Be strong. Don’t give in to temptation. He stroked his painful erection gently. This woman needs you. This poor lost soul...

“You still have a chance to turn away from temptation and turn to Jesus as your answer.”

“How though, father? When temptation is all around me. Even today I—“

His throat went dry.

“Today?” He pressed. “What do you mean today?”

“It’s shameful, father.” You replied rubbing your thighs together.

The desire pooling between your legs massaged the lips of your womanhood, sending pleasure through out your body.

You had chosen this new church home at random at the behest of your mother. The older you got, the stronger your succubus side became. Soon it might overtake you completely. Until you were a sex driven demon. Like your incubus father. The no good demon who had impregnated your mother.

It was your greatest fear whenever you looked in the faces of strangers who attracted you, whether it was physically or mentally. That you would infect them with your own curse and bear more cursed children.

But it was also so achingly tempting that it hurt sometimes. The toys you had bought didn’t help. The other incubus/succubus men and women you secretly convened with didn’t help.

You knew that you needed humans. Pure, untainted humans...

But you hadn’t expected a priest so handsome. So strong and self assured in his word. Hadn’t expected the hooded golden eyes that smoldered with intelligence and the desire of a young man who had repressed himself for so long that he ached for release. The burden of all the marriages he had severed at former churches because of his affairs with the men and women of his congregation and how it weighed heavy on his mind. Best of all, you knew he would do it all again just to feel that sweet release.

And God, as if regular humans weren’t tempting enough, fallen holy ones were the embodiment of desire.

“I know what you want the most, father,” you practically moaned. The honeyed cadence of your voice like a siren song to a mortal. You tried so hard to fight it, but you could no longer help it with the stench of his desire and lust filling your nose. “You want someone to run their fingers through that beautiful golden hair of yours while they lock you between their thighs. You want someone to beg you for their release. You want this so much that it frightens you too, doesn’t it? It almost aches. I could see it watching you today.

The priest was stunned silent. Afraid that if he did dare say anything it would be to ask the stranger to tell him more. More of his sinful thoughts. More of her own sinful thoughts. More about why the urges he had successfully kept at bay for five years now had come back to the forefront of his mind at full force when he looked at her.

Mindlessly, he pulled out his throbbing dick and rubbed the viscous spill of desire leaking from the head around the top before spreading it along the thick shaft.

You can’t, Keigo! You shouldn’t! Remember your prayers. Your promise to god!

Oh but what was it again? What were those prayers? The words had twisted in his mind. What was that promise to god? Something about repentance and regret?

The thrum of pleasure that coursed through him with every stroke only made him forget those vows more.

“I-I’m sorry father,” you continued. Your voice smothered the man’s senses like a warm blanket. So soft and inviting. Just like the rest of you. “I need your help...please.”

A prayer. A promise. You will resist temptation.

“I,” he choked on the words. His mind cloudy from the warring thoughts swirling about it. “I can help you. We can beat this temptation together.”

“Thank you, father.” You sighed. “Or I believe you prefer to be called: daddy.”

(Pt.2)//(Pt.3)

[selkiesbittybonanza]

500 Followers Appreciation Bitty Profiles! (+ Bonus bitty!) (ALL FREE TO ADOPT)

Fellswap Gold Lamia Bittys

Merlot

Snake: Taipan

Venomous?: Yes

Size (Bitty): Length - 0.5-1m (1.6-3.3 ft.), Standing - 0.25-0.5m (0.8-1.6 ft)

Size (Full Sized): Length - 1.5-2m (5-6 ft), Standing 1-1.25m (3-5 ft)

Merlots are very calm and soothing bittys, they always seem to have it together. It can be easy to let them take control of things – you always feel like they have your best interests at heart. Merlots are very distinguished, they don’t appreciate looking disheveled, it gives them an almost “old man” quality. A Merlot’s nest is impeccably clean – you may even find a doily or two! And they somehow have a bowl of no-name candy to offer guests like a strange satire on how seniors live everywhere. However he had an eye for quality and doesn’t accept poor quality furnishings. While a Merlot doesn’t mind taking charge, he appreciates an adopter who takes initiative. A Merlot isn’t above using intimidation to get his way, but he’s so smooth about it you have a hard time noticing! He prides himself in being unflappable, to demand respect without screaming for it. He certainly has a devious side – he didn’t get this far without knowing how to “play the game” and isn’t above a few white lies for the sake of it. He can be quite paternal as well, he enjoys taking younger bittys under his “wing” and helping raising them. While he can seem rather stiff he’s actually a warm-hearted bitty who enjoys cuddles and being needed.

Espresso

Snake: Black-tailed Criibo

Venomous?: No

Size (Bitty): Length - 0.75-1m (2.4-3.3 ft), Standing - 0.25-0.5m (0.8-1.6 ft)

Size (Full Sized): Length - 2-2.5m (7-8.5 ft), Standing - 1-1.5m (3-5 ft)

Despite the name: Espressos aren’t very active bittys. They mostly prefer the quiet – gaming and drawing are their favourite hobbies. They tend to be shy and soft spoken – loud people can startle them into muteness and a lot of the time they prefer to communicate in non-verbal ways. If you want a gaming companion an Espresso is your perfect bitty match: but be warned – gaming is a fixation for them. If you ask them to not continue a game until you can play it together later it’s almost unfair to them, they’ll become obsessed with what’s next. Games with both single player and co-op content is more ideal – he can work on the single player campaign while he waits for you to come back to the co-op campaign. His shyness makes multi-player gaming a bit hit or miss – he doesn’t like gaming where a lot of communication and strategy is necessary – he prefers staying quiet and working towards objective without any instruction given or taken. His exception is co-op, he loves playing games together with you and feels his most accomplished when you both complete a challenging level together. He isn’t super competitive but takes pride in his skills so be careful setting up play-dates with bittys that may not appreciate losing to a quiet, seemingly submissive bitty. Despite his quiet and gentle nature he isn’t one to allow people to take advantage of him  or disrespect him – he will stand up for himself, usually by exiting the situation instead of getting into an argument, and when pushed, he WILL fight back. He is surprisingly skilled and controls his magic well.

G!Siblings Ampitheres 

So I decided to give my ampitheres the same human-like intelligence of all my other lamia bittys, but restrict them to a one-size bitty like my Harpys. Honestly a full size ampithere’s wingspan would make them pretty tough to house indoors… 

Suave

Snake: Bolen’s Python

Venomous?: No

Size: 1-1.5m long (3-5ft), 0.5m (2ft) standing

Suaves pride themselves on being, well, suave and flirtatious – it helps them stay in control of the conversation and relationship so you don’t discover how much of a dork they really are. Suaves inherited Gaster’s love or building important monuments – like the Core. He’s interested in work that will stand the test of time, with the added benefit of being practical. He’s not interested in building, say: the Pyramids for vainglory. But, if that Pyramid was covered in solar panels that provided electricity for the nearby citizens – that’s up his alley. He also has an interest in motorized vehicles like cars, trucks and motorcycles – but he admits he’d have a difficult time using one without a lot of modifications. Which could be fun. Suaves love flashy experiments and inventions that leave an impact on his audience: however, when he’s working on his next big thing he ends up working at all hours of the night in his pajamas. His inspirations are flashes of brilliance and a flurry of work, after which, he collapses into a deep sleep for up to 36 hours. Despite appearances Suaves are huge nerds who love to share their work with interested listeners and isn’t above goofy shenanigans. They share a Sans’ sense of humour and laid back attitude – but it’s a mask to cover the whirling chaos of the mind within. Suaves can be surprisingly immature and will get a kick out of pranks and childish humour. A Suave can summon up to four disembodied “hands” to help him work on projects that require dexterity but doesn’t often use constructs in offensive magic. He’s more of a behind-the-scenes guy – but he can certainly manage bone attacks.

Savvy

Snake: Amazon Tree Boa

Venomous?: No

Size: 1.25-1.75m long (4-6ft), 0.75m (2.5ft) standing

While Suaves are the rock star scientists, the Savvys end up being in the babysitter role more times than they’d like. Savvys inherited Gaster’s interest in the soul and physical health of monsters and humans; since Savvys are on the autistic spectrum it helps them understand others better because, although they have trouble empathizing with others, it does not mean they don’t CARE. I head-cannon that smoking is a Gaster-trait and a Savvy’s Papyrus half REFUSES to participate in such a disgusting habit! Therefore Savvy’s tend to have an oral fixation to make up for the lack of smoking: chewing on the end of pencils, pens, their own tails… and rely far too much on caffeine. A Savvy works hard, but on a schedule and his experiments are always tightly controlled as opposed to a Suave’s scientific method. Savvys are polite, distinguished and a bit absent minded when it comes to personal relationships. If you’re looking for a bitty that will faun over you – look elsewhere. While Savvy’s certainly care about their adopters and family they are independent and self sufficient. They can seem humourless but the right touch can send them into giggles, they are very passionate about their interests and appreciate an interested audience (or at least captive). Savvys enjoy being needed and do well in situations where they can work as doctor’s, biologists or psychologists. They’re not judgmental and they like to look at the world with endless curiosity and enthusiasm! Savvys can summon up to four disembodied “hands” to help him work on projects that require dexterity but prefers to use his magical energies in his studies and use of healing magic. His offensive magic abilities are rather stunted because of this.

Bonus Lamia Bitty - Blueberror

Blue Ribbon

Snake: Blue striped Ribbon Snake

Venomous?: No

Size (Bitty): 0.5-1m (1.6-3ft), 0.3m standing

Size (Full Sized):1-1.5m (3-5ft) 0.5m standing

Ribbons are afraid of being alone (autophobic), they know that being alone in the anti-void is what caused their transformations from Blueberries to Blueberrors. They thrive in large families and want to be seen as a friend and protector by the group. Do not adopt one of these guys if you spend a lot of time out of the home and can’t provide them attention. A bitty family is a good stop-gap but they really need validation and one-on-one time with their adopters. Ribbons retain most of their personality traits from their Blueberry days but they’re a little… off. A little, too intense. Ribbons can get caught up in an emotion or situation and can spiral out of control whether the emotion is: joy, anger, frustration, or fear. They need a patient friend who can help them “reset” their emotional clock. Of course, being an Error, it sometimes causes a hard crash that they need to restart from. Depending on the situation they can forget completely what had set them off and will continue along like nothing happened. Other times, they remember what happened but the restart gave them enough time to reprocess so they can move on and get past what set them off. They can get depressed easily especially is someone is afraid or intimidated by him – he knows he’s different now, but he’s still a good guy at heart! A Ribbons magic is star-based – they create star-shaped attacks and can even summon a star to ride around on like Kirby.

Creators

Blueberror created by @loverofpiggies​

Fellswap Gold AU created by @blackggggum​

G!Sans created by @bouru​

Art

Fellswap Gold Sans & Papyrus + Blueberror Lamias commissioned from @calmchapsart​

G!Siblings Ampitheres commissioned from @me-and-my-gaster​

all art commissioned by me: @sealpointselkie​ / @selkiesbittybonanza​

[drowningisinevitable-retired]

The Bugbear and the Water Maiden Fair || Roy and Mina

TIMING: Current PARTIES: @drowningisinevitable and @bearingwitness SUMMARY: Mina has a fright inside a haunted house. Roy reaps the benefits. CONTENT: Emotional abuse, gaslighting, gore.

Outside, it was bright, sunny, a perfectly clear autumn afternoon. But inside the strange carnival’s haunted house, it was dark, dim. Still, Mina could see enough of a trail of dark, thick liquid to follow it, her footsteps frantic. She needed to follow it. She had to follow it.

Mina had  gotten separated from the group that she’d been with as soon as she’d seen Bex walk this way. And then the smell of iron-rich blood had filled her nostrils, enough for even her to smell above water, and she’d taken off. As soon as she’d made it inside, the door has slammed shut behind her. Mina was alone. She could still see the blood, though. So she followed it.

Very quickly, Mina got lost.

“Bex?” she called. No answer.

Panic was building in Mina’s system, threatening to spill over. She could say that it was because she hadn’t properly been able to relieve it, hadn’t properly been able to run away from it. Now it was there, full force, and Mina didn’t know what to do to control it. She couldn’t control it. “Bex?” They weren’t supposed to be doing this, running from each other. Why was Bex running from her? Why was there blood? “Please, Bex!”

Bex’s voice echoed down through the gaudy pho-Victorian halls, muffled by gauzy cotton cobwebs and humming smoke machines. Her sharp words were instinct against the counterpoint of the cackling plastic skeletons.

A low ursine growl answered Bex’s distant voice, before being swallowed up in the delighted shrieks of disembodied witches.

“Bex!” Not again. Mina scrambled down the hallway, bumping into cheaply put together walls that gave if she leaned into them too much. A bear. There was Bex, somewhere, and with her was a bear. A bear. What kind of bear would wander into a haunted house? A bugbear.

The scent of blood was choking Mina, making her gag as it filled her nose. Mina hated the smell of human blood. It reminded her of awful things, terrible things. Bad memories. Worse fears.

Mina had to find Bex.

Bex let out a thick gasp of pain and claws scrapped on floorboards.

Tinsel-wire spiders swung down from down the ceiling on strings  as a campy Cryptkeeper voice gave an automated warning for Mina “watch out from the creepy crawlies! Ahahahahahahahah!”

Bex’s shout was followed by a concussive explosion. Violet light poured through the haunted houses' halls, casting paper-mache monsters and grinning jack-o-lanterns into stark silhouettes. A sweet redolence of lilacs mingled with coppery blood.

Mina was lashing out as soon as something touched her, claws on her fingers ripping at fake spiders, cotton webs. She was breathing heavily. Her heart was pounding. She was panicked as she searched for Bex and the bear.

The sound of Bex’s scream and the sight of her magic pulled Mina forward. Tearing apart paper creatures and carved pumpkins, she remembered a conversation with someone online. In this moment, attached to this scene, pumpkins were scary.

Mina was scared. It was all she could feel. She was scared, shaking with it, eyes filled with tears, nose filled with the smell of blood. Bex’s blood. Her heart didn’t even feel like it was beating. She felt cold. She stumbled forward.

An echo of Bex’s power hung thick in the air as a purple haze, Raw magic permeated the mansion's halls. The dime store candles lining the walls shone in electric distortions of amaranthine. Witches’ cauldrons bubbled with livid-colored broth that filled every room with a deep and richly floral evocative of roses with hints of vanilla. Halloween store kitsch lay scattered across the floor from the force of the explosion. The scent of blood led into a ruined foyer. Cloth bats and silky ghosts were strewn in tatters on hardwood amid red stains and the long grooves of claw marks.

A low snapping sound distrubed the hushed aftermath. Jaws squeezed and scratched on bone.

At the top of the foyer’s shattered staircase, a hulk of brown fur was bent over a limp pale form. Delicate hands vanished into a maw wet with blood and deep panting breaths. With a jerk of its shaggy head, the Bugbear ripped away a piece of the young woman pinned beneath its giant paws.

Mina came into the scene only to watch Bex get torn into pieces. It wasn’t like with Frank, where Mina thought Bex was dead but saw her whole, lifeless body. She had to watch as Bex got eaten by a beast, an animal. She didn’t go numb. Mina couldn’t go numb. Her brain stopped working stopped properly processing anything but the horror in front of her, but she didn’t go numb. She felt everything, pain and horror and agony, like she was the one being ripped apart.

Mina would have barely cried if she was the one being ripped apart. She sounded like she was the one dying, now. She was screaming, unable to stop it, the sound of it not quite blending with the mechanical screams coming through the intercom.

Pulling herself on hands and knees up the stairs, getting caught on floorboards specifically designed to creak, Mina made it to the top of the stairs, afraid to see what would be waiting for her, afraid to not see it. If Bex was dead, then Mina was alone. There were still people that cared about her, but Mina would be alone. She’d given her heart to Bex, her forever, her soul, though she still doubted the legitimacy of that last one, sometimes. Without her, Mina was alone. She’d been alone, always, even when she was with people. She’d never felt alone with Bex. Mina didn’t know how to be alone again, and the thought of that, the fear of that, was so overwhelming that it made it impossible to breathe. She couldn’t say anything. She just choked on a scream.

The great ursine creature huffed Mina’s scent in the shimmering violet haze and turned. Roy’s sceleraless eyes were inhuman as they reflected the dim light with a yellow shine, yet they surveyed the nymph with too palpable an air of purpose for him to ever pass for a real animal. The Bugbear was less a true bear then a creature that resembled a child’s nightmare of a bear. Larger than a kodiak, the ursine predator was covered in shaggy fur the same dark brown color as Roy’s human hair.

What was left of Bex was only a mauled suggestion of the women she’d once been. Her full lips and soft diamond shaped face were just broken pottery of skull fragments seeping cerebral mater now, stripped all down down from the cranium to her exposed spine. A dancer’s delicate body had been snapped and wretched by Roy’s bestial anger, torned ligaments and bloody hair laying like slick silks beneath the brute’s paws.

“You’re all alone now,” the disembodied voice had nothing of Roy’s baritone drawl as a man. A phantasmal sound created by the Bugbear’s inborn magic, Roy’s voice blended a softer masculine tone with the resonant growl of a bear.  

Yet, there was a quiet note of revelation as Roy felt Mina’s despairing panic, welling up so sharp and vivid in this final moment.

“Bex,” Mina finally managed to say, her voice broken. There was Mina, and there was the bear, and there was what was left of Bex, not enough left of her to properly be called a corpse.

What could Mina do against a bear, one of this size? She had no weapons, nothing but the claws in her hands, the sharp teeth in her mouth. But this was a bear. Creatures like this, she knew, were not inhumanly strong. When they were men, they were men. When they were bears, they were bears. This was a bear. Mina didn’t know how to fight a bear. There wasn’t even any fight left in her, not really. Just despair, pain, the sickening realization that her biggest fear was real.

Her dad always said she’d be alone, that it was better that way. This didn’t feel better. It felt like death. Mina didn’t even know how she was still alive. There was a corpse, there was a bear, and there was Mina, inserting herself onto the scene, looking at a nightmare and unable to get off of her knees even as the warm, thick wetness of fresh blood soaked in her knees.

The bear sounded nothing like her father, but his voice was all that Mina could hear. “I don’t know how to be alone anymore,” she whispered, her voice as shaky as her hands. “I don’t– I don’t know.”

Roy breathed in Mina’s fear. Mina had guarded her heart well, as warriors and survivors often did. But as the Bugbear slowly advanced on towards the kneeling nymph, it was like something buried flooded up to the surface, finally unearthed by the death of someone who’d given her struggle meaning.

Roy had known from their first encounter in the Commons that Wilhelmina Fitzroy would never fear him directly. Hunters had trained her too well, he suspected, replacing the natural fear of self-preservation with abnegation and a killer’s zeal.  Despite the blind assumptions that often came with size and gender, Mina was more of a killer then Roy would ever be. There was no ambush or suffering he could threaten that a Hunter’s child wouldn't see as a challenge to overcome, a contest of wills that Roy wasn’t certain to win. Even if he’d overcome and killed Mina, it would have gained Roy nothing, as Mina would’ve fought and shived him with nothing but wrath in her heart till the bitter end.  

No, the dread he felt from Mina now was not fear of his claws or bloody teeth. Even now that Roy’d caught her unarmed, Mina wasn’t paralyzed in the face of a woodland predator.

Perhaps loneliness, centuries of solitude, stretched out before the Fae women like a dark wasteland. Roy felt the horror with her like an adrenaline shot in his chest. A terror far deeper and more vivid than any jump scare or paranoia poured into the Bugbear.

Roy had spent much of his power to create phantasmagoria this large and intense for so long. Roy'd knew be feeling this like a brick to the skull later if he lived through this. But it was all worth it in that euphoric moment

The bear was lumbering towards her, but Mina didn’t care. She moved herself closer to Bex, getting iron rich blood all over her skin. She was so overwhelmed with fear that she couldn’t even feel the sting of it on her skin. Taking what was left of the girl that she loved in her arms, Mina felt like she was dying again, a little more every passing moment.

Mina always knew when Bex was there. Always. Now, there was nothing there. She couldn’t feel anything at all.

There was just Mina, and there was just the bear, still advancing on her, so close that Mina could feel hot breath on her skin. She didn’t look up at the bear. She was alone. The bear was there, but Mina was alone. “Please,” she whispered. “Please, please, please.” She didn’t know what she was begging for. She wasn’t even thinking, at this point. There wasn’t any thoughts, just spikes of awful, intense emotions in a sea of loneliness, nothingness. There was nothing that she could do.

Mina felt so heavy. She couldn’t even make herself move from her place next to Bex, head bowed, covered in blood.

Roy was close enough to maul Mina now, to just lunge forward and take her bowed neck between his dripping teeth. But he’d never wanted that.

Roy now knew that ultimate horror in Mina like it was his own. Her monophobia was so much deeper then he was ready for, it spun the Bugbear’s head in an euphoria of desolation. It felt like free-fall, as if Mina had been bound to Bex by a lifeline that gave life clarity. She’d lost people before, perhaps, and with the the snap of this last lifeline Mina could only plummet down, condemned to solitude in every crowd.

She was pleading with him now. For what? Death maybe?

Roy was a predator that could only live by making others suffer. He’d taken away Mina’s life so that she could help him live. The gift of Mina’s agony would let him survive the weakness that came with winter. But there  was no further to go, nothing more he could take. This Hunt was over.

She kept pleading “please…please”

“Alright,” Roy assented quietly.

The Bugbear released his hold on the phantasmagorical magic that’d permeated the haunted house. Layers of carefully wrought illusion peeled away from reality like make-up washing off in a shower. The purple haze of Bex’s power faded into the dim electric lighting. Claw marks became just  the scuffing of teenager’s shoes on the floor. Blood losts it acrid iron stench till it was red punch spilled spooked kids. The wreckage of a climatic battle between bear and sorceress was now just some overturned chairs booth tables.

Roy let out a huffing ursine breath as the power left him, and Bex’s mangled body became a large costumed witch doll on the balcony floor, floppy pointed hat squashed beneath one of the Bugbears paws.

As the body next to Mina changed, she screamed again, pulling back from it, eyes wild and panicked as her brain tried to catch up with the sensory changes. It wasn’t Bex. It wasn’t blood, just some other sweet smelling stain. That was why it hadn’t started hurting her.

Mina backed up until she hit a wall, staring at the bear. Her heart was pounding again, and she was looking around frantically, trying to figure out what was happening. She couldn’t process it. She was still having trouble processing it. There was what was left of Bex’s body, there was her, and there was a bear.

A bear.

There was a startling realization, but realizations didn’t calm down panic. Panic didn’t make any sort of sense, not like Mina wished that it would. She brought her hand to her chest, trying to calm down. She just wanted to calm down. She couldn’t calm down. “Roy?” she managed to gasp out. “I– You’re– Roy?”

“I am,” Roy answered in that disembodied bestial  voice, unable to speak in this form without projecting an auditory illusion. There was a certain amusement in the fact that all this started when he’d seen Mina in her Nix form and ended with confronting her in his ursine form.

Of course, judging from the nourishing panic pouring into him from Mina, nothing had sunk it yet.

The Bugbear cocked his large fluffy head curiously, ears flicking as he peered at Mina, gaze devoid of both kindness and hatred. “What would you have done? If I'd really taken Bex from you?”

“I don’t know,” Mina whispered, her words scratching at a throat rough from screaming. Her hand went from her chest to her throat as she cleared it.

As she looked around, Mina was finally able to catch her breath. There was no Bex. Just Mina and the bear, Mina and Roy. Everything else was just cheap props. She’d been fooled so easily. One thought that something was happening to Bex, and Mina had been fooled so easily. She hadn’t been able to think of anything else, and when she’d thought that Bex was death, ripped apart like a piece of meat, she’d crumbled.

“I don’t know,” Mina repeated. She looked at the bear, and the bear looked at her. He was truly just an animal. That was it. He was just an animal. “Let you kill me, probably.”

She stood on shaky legs. “I would’ve tried to take you down with me, though.” If she’d gotten the fight back. Mina didn’t think that any of them would have walked out of that situation. She was finally beginning to calm down. She couldn’t tell the time in the windowless haunted house. She had no idea how long she’d been in there, where the people she’d come in with had gone, if it was night or not. If it was night, she’d have to find someone to walk her home. Mina sighed. “What’s next, then?”

Roy seemed to consider the question for a time, tongue lolling a little as the residual euphoria of Mina’s terror still coursed through his veins. “Well I’ve got little dumbass cub-siblings to feed your fear to,” the Bugbear explained in his ethereal voice, blending benevolence and callousness as he described the ends to which the psychic energy he’d harvested from Mina would be put. “If I were you, I’d go home and hold Bex close, a tangible sign this was all just a rough daydream.”

For time it seemed like Roy was simply convinced that was that. Eventually it seemed to dawn on the Phobophage that a tad bit more closure might be needed for the two-legs he’d stalked, assaulted, and gas-lightened.

“You’ve sharest your deepest fears with me Mina,” Roy explained, something in his ghostly growl suggested this was something of significance between them. “So I won’t be coming after you again. This hunt is over,” the Bugbear explained with a note of finality, as if this all was self-evident.

“Sharing’s pushing it,” Mina managed to say. “You forcefully pried it out of me.” She didn’t think she’d ever stop seeing it. She’d never stop seeing it. But there was nothing human in Roy’s eyes. Sometimes, Mina wondered if she looked like that. When she’d been killing Frank, had he been unable to find anything human in her eyes? Anything that reminded him of a person.

Mina sighed. “I’m glad you can feed your siblings.” She didn’t get that, siblings, but she understood wanting to take care of her people. Mina had to assume that was the same thing, really.

“Bex,” Mina said, looking at the Roy bear frantically She needed to leave, probably, and soon, but she had one more thing. “You can’t hurt Bex, either. Please, I– Please. I’ll owe you, if you don’t go after Bex.”

Roy shook his head, the human gesture looking awkward on such a large quadruped. But Roy decided to dispense with assertions that he’d prey on whoever he wanted, when he wanted. He’d put Wilhelmina Fitzroy through enough and would prey on her no longer, leaving her worrying that Bex might be next wouldn’t be proper closure to a hunt.

So he shared a truth with Mina, the reason why Bexley, formerly Oxendine, sparked more then just idle curiosity. Roy idly supposed that if there was anyone who’d taken enough shit from him to deserve some clarity, it’d be Mina.

“Bex’s human, but her magic is similar in some ways to mine or a Mara’s especially,” the Bugbear explained, disembodied voice a low humming growl. “It’s probably a coincidence. But what if there’s something more to it? Should I risk killing Bex for a day’s high when I could  learn somethin’ about a connection between Mara, Bugbears, and humanity?’

Roy let out a long huffing exhale, a remarkably ambient sound for a giant bear. “Dunno,” he admitted with simple frankness. “Maybe I won't be able to resist in the moment.”

“What I do know is winter’s coming,” Roy concluded, “and soon I won’t have the strength or  inclination to hurt anybody, Bex included.”

The Bugbear’s form distorted as he wrapped himself in illusion again. The mutilated corpse of the late Tilly Wilkinson gave Mina a jocular bow before striding down the stairs, intending to give impressionable carnival goers a morbid audiance in the form of the town lastest murder victim.

“Happy Hallows Wilhelmina.”

[magicalsalamander]

Moon Breaker

Pairing: BTS Taehyung  ⇆ Reader

Genre: Werewolf | Fluff | Angst | Smut |

Summary: Tales as old as time were passed through the werekind. If a human and a kind were to be mates, the moon would take them, the misfortune, to serve the Goddess. Taehyung, a kind, had always heard of the tales told by his elders. The alpha of his kind. He didn’t expect to find his mate, one of the non-kinds. Would the moon reap her back?

Words: 17 K

Warnings: Rated Mature; Explicit themes, action/ violence, blood shed, bullying, sexual content, marking, impreg kink, dom/sub themes, werewolf heat, mating, knotting, disability (blind).

A/N: Cr. Header image from @mvssmedia | Orig | Thank you for the permission to use the image.

| Masterlist |

Holding her in his arms he wept until a sea of his tears pooled around them. The soil was tainted in sorrow. He watched as her eyes from the outside in, like white frost covering the window, slowly turned opal. She reached up, mouth agape as she gasped for air. She cupped his cheek catching his tears as they rolled over her knuckles. The opal bleeds and engulfed her black pupils and with her last strangled breath, her back arched. His breath came in ragged, and shallow before he was wailing out, sobbing as he brought her chest to his forehead.

He couldn’t hear it, her heart was silent.

It was icy cold as her spirit lifted from her body, white and translucent. She lifted until she hovered above the soil to a stand. “My love,” her disembodied voice spoke to him as he wept into her being. Lifting his head he saw her spirit smile down at him. The glimpse of brown that once was her eyes was completely white. She caressed his cheek gently one last time, “I will always love you.”

It was his mistake, he swore to never look, he swore to the goddess he would never look.

She stepped into the moonlight and her light absorbed into the moonlight. She was gone. His mate was gone.

It was punishable by the fates, as Taehyung was told by the generations, for a human and his kind to be mates. He’s heard that story every year, surrounding the fire pit on nights where the pack gathered to celebrate the Moon and those guided by it. The pack’s elder recounted that they were forsaken by the Gods. The curse would be redeemed by the Moon when the mates would make eye contact, breaking the misfortune, and return the cursed soul to the Moon. A punishment by the Moon goddess for when the first kind didn’t love the Moon back, but another kind, so as punishment if a mate would be destined to linger elsewhere but a kind, she would make sure they knew her pain.

For generations and generations, there had only been a few misfortunes. Those kinds were left to wander the rest of their time alone, howling to the empty moon until the Moon called them too. It was a legend, a story of time, truth, as he had never seen a non-kind pairing. Shivers ran through his spine each time the story was repeated. How cruel could destiny be to rip their mate away? How cruel.

Knocking each vertebra erect, his spine stood tall as if he had been electrified. Shocks radiated, traveling to each limb like he had been branded by iron from the inside out. As quickly as the electricity coursed through his veins it was then replaced by a euphoria that made him feel like he had drunk wine. A sweet scent that was thick like honey as his body twisted to find the source. His feet were moving towards it before he knew it. His bare feet crunched twigs and leaves as he sped up. Lead by his nose, he followed the sweet scent.

The forest hummed with life around him, but that life scurried the other way as he neared. Despite the night sky blanketing the forest in darkness, his eyes allowed him to see everything. White moonlight would occasionally break through the dense trees creating its imprints of stars on the forest floor. His breathing was steady as he felt the scent fill his lungs to capacity. He slowed to a jog, thighs, hands, and spine blistering to transform until he skidding to a stop. A growl erupted from his being as his toes curled in the dirt.

He was close.

He bent down and sniffed the soil then the air. His ritual leather breechcloth scathed the floor as he nearly crawled sampling all things. At this point, he had abandoned all thoughts of attending the annual Moon gathering. A feral feeling overtook his system as the sweet smell sent goosebumps erupting across his skin. Whatever it belonged to was near, very near. A growl starting from his bowels erupted out his throat in a feral groan. He lunged off, nearly shifting but he was trained.

You trembled, as you felt around the damp rock underneath you. It felt cold enough to tell you that you were deep inside what you assumed to be a cave. You heard the hounds, you heard the guards, so you jumped over the edge. You tumbled down the hill, bumping rocks along the way, then feeling every bone in your body jangle. Picking yourself up in a stumble, you survived the fall, and with no sense, you instinctually followed the call, the echo, that lead you to crawl into the cave. You desperately tried to remember the words of the merchants, how far they’d travel and what roads they took, but their serpential advice only brought you to an edge.

They were all liars.

You couldn’t let yourself die. You weren’t going to be a simple sacrifice for the royal family. The soil raiser that had said you held power within your eyes was lying.

You ran away, ran away from the village, the palace, ran away from your supposed destiny.

The sounds of the night filled the dark space. You knew darkness, it was all you saw, but this darkness was abysmal. You curled further into yourself collecting your tattered dress closer around yourself. It didn’t ease the pain, but it eased the fear for a second. Consciously you tried controlling the shivering wrecking through your system.

You were going to live another day, or so you thought until a bone-chilling howl echoed in the distance.

He tilted his head back inhaling the scent until his lungs were aching and hyperventilating. He shivered despite his body running at a blazing temperature. A howl rumbled through, calling out to the feeling again.

Closer, he was getting closer.

His sensitive ears picked up a soft whimper and his head whipped towards the source. The sweet smell was coming from a rock formation. He climbed up the small cliff, scaling the rocks and hopping across the boulders until he was at the top. The sound was faint, but it tickled him the wrong way. Whomever it was coming from wasn’t well and his instincts were fighting for something intrinsic to appease it. At the peak, the white light illuminated his bare tawny beige skin reflecting the time he spent under the Summer's sun. His toned, thick muscles were taunting from the urge to shift, just waiting for release under his skin. A light breeze rustled his long dark brown downy hair that hung to his waist as the strands tickled over his broad shoulders and face. The terra cotta breechcloth shifted as he assumed a hunched position that his wolf begged for as his golden eyes flicker around. He climbed over and descended until he could jump down.

He landed on all fours in a squatted position. As he rose he eyed the tall arch of the mouth of a cave where the sweet scent was emanating from. Moonlight didn’t reach far inside the impending darkness, but he knew it was there. He squared his shoulders back as he took confident steps towards the darkness. He could sense a being inside as he picked up on the harsh breathing and erratic heartbeat. The scent began to shift, and his face scrunched. Their fear was ruining the fresh scent with the bitterness. The tangy scent caused another growl to rip out of his throat. It echoed off the walls of the cave and a terrified whimper responded.

Instantly the call of dominance hushed in his chest, he couldn’t understand why but he wanted to apologize to it.

He walked further into the cave as he could sense the being attempting to move. It was a quick reaction before a feminine cry and whimper filled the walls as they stood and began running away.

It taunted the beast within him, the wolf wanted to catch its prey.

Sweet turned completely bitter.

Your bare feet splashed in shallow puddles that had collected from the recent storm that passed over. You kept a hand against the wall of the cave as your ears worked a million miles an hour. The small displaced rocks caused you to lose your footing, but you kept running. The slapping of your feet was loud as it pounded along your loud heartbeat that drummed in your ear. You listened for the footsteps behind you and keep going towards where the echoes seemed never-ending. Faster. Faster. Faster! You twisted left and right as you heard a vicious growl bounce off the walls of the cave. A wolf had found you.

You had been warned your whole life of the giant wolves that lived in the woods that surrounded the town, but you had thought it to be only a myth. A child’s nightmare to scare them into behaving at night. You spent your whole life in the palace. It was always a secret passed amongst the other servants, spat by the highborn, fear the giant wolves of the forest. Fear those of Vantierra, who are as savage as those giant beasts. Beware of the forest of savagery. A warning amongst each other if anyone ever decided to run, then something the highborn would whisper to you in threat.

You kept twisting and turning as the tunnels grew narrow, then wide once again. Behind the darkness of your eyes, you couldn't trust anything but your feet as they moved forward. Forward had to lead somewhere.

The floor beneath you was lost as the world rushed by in a blur. Your dress was caught on a jagged of a stone on the wall, ripping your dress and cutting your side as it sent you skidding to the floor. You smacked the floor with a hard thump. You screamed out, unable to control the searing pain. Adrenaline flooded your system as you prepared yourself when you knew that the wolf following you had you where he wanted you. You covered your face with your arms, the stretch painful. The rough footsteps running after you slowed to a stop until they were just over you and circling you.

With bated breath, you waited and waited for the ravaging, for it to tear you limb from limb, but you were still alive. You heard a desperate whine come from its panting above you. Slowly you pulled your arm away from your face and looked towards what was following you. You could feel the heat emanating from the creature as their panting signaled where they were to you.

Light filtered from a skylight as you were splayed under the moonlight. When you pulled your arm away from your face, his breath caught in his throat.

You were a human.

Your eyes were different from those of a human though. They were pupil-less and white, but there was distinct separation with the ring that made up the telling eye. It was like you held the moon in your eyes.

His eyes widened as he realized his biggest mistake. He had been following a basal instinct without a single thought. The bittersweet scent was nearly suffocating as he gazed at you like a struck man. He could smell it now. You were human. It caught up to him why he followed the scent, he had heard it through his kind who were with kind. All the stories he had heard as a child up until now, came to him. It was too late, it was too late, he had already seen your eyes.

The question fell off his tongue without him thinking, “Mate.”

No! You weren’t. You couldn’t be! He denied it, it had to be wrong. You hadn’t faded from existence. Something else must be at play. You weren’t his mate, you couldn’t be. You were human. But why? Why would his wolf lead him to you?

But…if…if you were, was he going to lose you?

He fell to his knees grasping onto your shoulders. One hand then cupped your cheek as he guided your head so you’d look directly at him. You stiffened at the calloused tough and gasped as he held you gently. He searched their depths, although they lacked exact focus flitting left and right, he could feel it within that you were gazing into his as well.

It was true. Deep within himself, he could feel it, his wolf approved. It was you.

He was a part of the misfortunate.

Like the legend stated he waited for your spirit to leave. For the Moon to rob you like he had been told. The moonlight cloaked you, but you still blinked as he held your trembling being.

He was strong as you tried fighting his grip, but he held you securely. Despite fear trickling over your system, an odd deep part of you wanted to lean into the stranger’s touch. It was confusing. Your emotions twirled in your stomach, wasn’t a wolf following you? Where did this man come from?

“Please, please, don’t kill me.” You pleaded.

A deep voice you hadn’t expected answered you, “Human.”

Sensing the sweet returning to your scent he shuffled closer to you, bringing your noses together. His bare chest pressed up against you demonstrating his strength as he held you in place. He was having a hard time reading you. He squinted, “Your eyes?”

You flicked your eyes down.

His eyebrows raised, his thumb subconsciously smoothing the soft tissue under your eyes. “Don’t.”

The gentleness in his voice caught you off guard as they flicked back up.

A new scent filled his nose. His nose scrunched as he looked down. There were so many smells going through his system he hadn’t registered it before, “You’re bleeding.”

He reached out to tend to it, but as soon as he got close you whacked away his hand. You snapped out of the spell he had cast over you when you felt his hand coming towards you. As much as his touch felt nice you couldn't trust that feeling. “Don’t touch me!”

He growled out of instinct; how dare you defy him. You scrunched away from him and instantly he regretted his behavior. Taking a deep breath through his nose, “Let me help you.”

You shook your head, eyes darting everywhere. “No, leave me alone! Just-just-just let me die here.”

“You’re not going to die!” A pang of sadness filled him mirroring your emotions. He was saddened that you sounded so defeated already but, he wasn’t going to let anything happen to you. You were his human. He couldn’t let you go after he had so many questions to ask you.

After shouting a wave of dizziness washed over you. Your hearing was muffling out, you were losing a lot of blood. “Please—.”

Finally pushed, he commanded, “I’m-not-leaving-you, human.”

Slurring your words, “Why…why do you keep calling me that?”

“Because you are human.��

That’s right. You were…but he wasn’t. A chill ran up your spine. You tried scooching away, but a hot pain shot up from your ankle like fire. You hissed and yelped as you tried clutching your sore ankle and aching side at the same time. Heavier dizziness overcame you as you tried moving, you were losing consciousness with every heave. It hurt to move, breath, and think overall. You’ve must’ve twisted it or broken it in your stupor early running from him.

You hadn't moved from his embrace only teetering to only slump forward into his shoulder when your limbs felt weak with a groan.

Panic filled his being, you were losing conscious, he could hear your heart slowing. He reached down and touched over the swollen flesh of your ankle. The wolf in his whined, his mate was injured. “Let me take you to our healer.”

You protested weakly, “No…I won’t go anywhere with you.”

He sighed, “I won’t hurt you. I won’t ever hurt you.” It was odd, he already felt so much but all he had done was lay his eyes on you. It was like there was a line pulling him to you he wasn’t sure who was tugging on.

A feeling settled in you, you wanted to believe his words. For some reason, things felt alright in his arms. “Okay.” Consciousness tickled at the edge before you fell under with your last burst of energy answering him. Your body collapsed as you completely slumped into his being with an unfounded trust.

“Human!” With quick reflexes, he caught you wrapping his arms tightly around you. Pulling away to see your face his arm felt distinctly warm. His arm was dabbed in your blood. A feral growl escaped his lips as the alpha within decided it was time break the haze. He wanted to shift, that would be so much faster, but he didn’t want to risk hurting you any further. You were delicate. He shifted you around and hoisted you onto his back, careful of your injuries. With practiced ease and a blurring pace, he set back towards his village.

You woke to the sound of pitter-pattering of small feet. Your mind was slowly registering things from your fogged over the brain. You must be indoors. It was warm that you were sure, as the telling warmth of sunlight tickled over your skin. You were encompassed in absolute comfort. It was a softness you had never experienced before. In the palace, you slept on the floor with your apron rolled up as your pillow.

Were you dead?

You struggled to remember the last thing that happened. Until it hit you. You remember running, running and running through the savage Forrest. You heard the harsh whispers of the Queen; it was time to reap. It was time to reap your eyes to bless the royals with your powers. The rest was a blur as you all you can distinctly remember was running, and running, and running.

You tried to move to feel the fluffy fabric underneath you. You wanted to know if it was real. But as you tried lifting your sluggish hand pain surged through your left side and leg. A pained groan escaped your throat in protest.

This was real.

Where were you?

Softly in a harsh whisper, a child’s voice filled your ears and it had your head turning toward the sound. "Big Bear, is it…is it a human?"

Big Bear, who was a big bear?

A familiar voice responded, “It’s a real human.”

“Wow! Is it—is it,” the curious pup leaned in closer to Taehyung with its eyes wide, half shifted ears on his head twitching, “infected?”

Taehyung laughed fully, he shook his head, “No, she’s not infected.”

When the child still seemed to be dumbfounded by the presence of a human, Taehyung pushed him right along and out of the room. “Alright, alright, go on pup, go bother your Mom.”

What seemed like canine whines followed with a protest calling Big Bear as the door clicked closed.

You tried pretending you were asleep still, but he knew better. He could hear you slowly coming to, “So you’re awake.”

You blinked open your eyes, although it made no difference. His voice picked as the scabs of your sealed memories of last night. You remembered that voice. You remembered him, hazily, you remembered him. You remembered the howls of the wolf.

Dressed in pants and a loose shirt this time he stood off the side of the bed gazing down at you. His wolf purred in delight seeing you in his bed.

In a hoarse voice, you asked, “Where am I?”

Cautiously he took a seat next to the bed in an armchair. Although he wanted to sit next to you, he sensed your senses were on overdrive.

“I brought you home. Our healer treated you.”

You reached over and dragged your heavy hand towards your side and felt bandages and gauze over your chest.

“She said it will take a while to heal along with your leg because you are human.”

You turned towards him, the warmth of the sun encompassing your face. The room smelled musky and masculine, but clean. It reminded you of the laundry room back at the palace that smelled like the finest soaps. Your mind was still catching up you before you built up the intelligence to ask, “Who—what—no, who are you?”

Biting back a smile at your choice of words, “I’m Taehyung.”

Your mind searched over, what was a “Taehyung”? It took you a few more blank blinks that you realized he had told you his name. You repeated the name, testing it on your tongue. He smirked, enjoying the way his name sounded coming out of your mouth.

You tried sitting up, you felt too vulnerable laying in his presence. You winced as you put pressure on your side. He was by your side immediately helping you. His large hands picked you up and helped you into a sitting position. Quietly you thanked him.

With a bit more confidence he sat on the bed next to you, his wolf urging him closer and closer to you.

He noticed your heart pick up as he touched you. “What is your name Human?”

His diction was strange, but you decided to overlook it. You hesitated, “I’m,” you debated giving him a fake name, but instead settled on the truth, “…Y/n.”

He smiled, testing the name out on his tongue. He liked the sound of it, it rolled off with ease like he had practiced it countless times, even in his dreams.

“How long was I out?”

“A few days.”

A few days? You were out for a few days? Your body still felt so exhausted as if you haven’t slept for any of it. Your mind was filtering at top speed, you wanted more answers. Your face scrunched and contorted as you figured your first question verbally. “Who? No. I mean—what are you? Why do you keep calling me human?”

He propped his elbows on his thighs as he leaned in towards you, “I’m a kind. A were kind as you humans would call it.”

Your fingers scrunched up the blanket attempting to pull it closer to you. It was like he had lifted the pillow holding you up and placed it over your mouth and nose. But there was still enough where you were functioning. He was…he was a beast.

He could smell it again, that bitter citrus ruining the honey that was you. He wanted to reach closer to you, but as he shuffled the sound made you flinch. He stopped and observed your fist turning white as you clutched the blanket. It felt like a stake had pierced him, slowly digging in as you panicked forming your next question. This wasn't how it was supposed to go when mates found each other. It was supposed to be euphoric; it was supposed to be simple as two souls became one.

“Was that you? Was that you, the one that…,” you gulped, “howled?”

He squinted at your ridiculous questions, of course, it was him. "Yes."

You weren’t mistaken you had heard the growling of a wolf and it was him. He was a were kind. You weren't dreaming.

“It is natural.” It dawned on him that you may not know anything of the kind. He took his greeting more serious. Proudly he states, finding his ego again, “I’m Taehyung of the Kim clan, in line to be the next Alpha of Vantierra.”

Your throat closed up as you heard him completely. You repeated the name in your mind. Vantierra. You were in Vantierra. Fear clutched at your throat tighter. Despite your pain, you tossed the blanket off of you. You had to leave. You couldn’t be here. You scrambled off the side of the bed and collapsed to the floor in a groan. Pain surged your being, rendering you dizzy. Tears were building in the corner of your eyes.

Standing up and bolting over to you he attempted to scoop you into his arms, “Y/n!”

You shoved him away, yelling at him to not touch you. He was so confused, “Wait, what’s wrong!”

Eyes glassing, “I can’t be here! I can’t be here! It’s dangerous.”

He frowned, “It’s not dangerous.”

You blubbered, “You…you, you’re savages! Your kind kill mercilessly! I don’t want to die, please, I don’t want to die.”

You jabbed in the stake further into his heart. It was a sickening feeling being rejected by his mate. His wolf howled within in sorrow. He defended himself, “We are not ‘savages’, we are the kind. No one is going to harm you.” A rumble rumbled through his chest just at the thought of someone hurting you. “No one here will ever hurt you. We are not ‘savages’ that you speak of.”

“You have my word, y/n.” You looked up at him trying to imagine the face of the man speaking to you. You could make out a shadow of darkness blocking out the light, but you couldn't see more than that. Your hearing began to return as you waited for him to betray his words, but you only received a canine whine again. It sounded so sad. It made you regret the words you spat at him. Your words were horrible. You were still alive, he had even tended to you, and yet you just accused him of the worst. Your own words felt bitter in your mouth in the aftertaste.

Under his breath, he whispered but your ears caught it, "We've never done that, never our kind."

Your eyes widened wanting to ask more but he spoke softly to you. Biting back his hurt and swallowing it, “Let’s get you back on the bed.”

You nodded slowly as he scooped you into his arms like you weighed nothing. Naturally, your arms went around his neck and your hand settled on his jaw that ticked at your soft touch. He was so warm and for a moment you could imagine that there was no pain. You felt ease for the few seconds that he migrated you back and settled you back in the bed. Why? Why did you feel this way when he touched you? Your mind was screaming at you otherwise. You settled in your spot, mulling over his words. It sounded so genuine. A part of you had already settled on believing him.

He sat next to you on the bed and scooted closer to you as he draped the comforter over you again. Needing to ease the wolf within cautiously he took your shaking hand, the only way he knew how to ease you, but he was afraid. He…was afraid you’d reject him again.

When you didn’t pull away from him holding your hand he caressed it like you were made of glass. In the past few days he’s had with himself, he’s watched over you diligently. He went over it all in his mind over and over. He denied it only to come to acceptance, you, a human, was his mate. He was going to protect you at all cost. His sister, the healer, was afraid of you at first when Taehyung brought you to her. Of course, she knew of the lore, she was afraid for her brother. She growled that he was mistaken, but he fought her, it was true. You were his mate. That didn’t change the fact that she was afraid for him, for the both of you. Humans never entered Vantierra for the fear that the lore would come true. It was a curse to have humans on Vantierra soil.

He couldn’t care though, you were here, you had proven the curse wrong.

“I won’t hurt you. No one will. You’re safe here.”

He could tell you weren’t fully convinced by the tension in your muscles. He cocked his head back as the wolf within crept through to the surface. “You have the word of an Alpha. No one will hurt you. No one will challenge my word.”

You had no idea what alpha meant, but you could only assume that it held value in Vantierra. You nodded along.

“May I ask something?”

You nodded as you felt his playing with your fingers measuring them up to his. You could sense that his fingers could engulf your hand alone if he wanted to. It sent a small shiver up your spine, but it wasn’t from fright. Was he man or beast disguised as a man?

Quietly he asked, “Can you see me?”

Biting your bottom lip, you shook your head.

He nodded his head. “Rest now.”

You hadn’t realized it, but you were slumping into the pillows stacked behind you. Your body felt heavy with sleep again. All that exhaustion you had felt earlier had returned with a vengeance. You fell asleep with him holding your hand.

You were going to stay, but what other choice did you have?

You pushed away from the bedpost taking your first true step away. It wasn't your first step on your legs again, but the take-off always felt like it. According to the Healer, Dasom, who you found out was Taehyung’s sister, you had twisted your ankle, but whatever she had done for you had nearly fixed it. The injury on your side had healed over, but you were left with a bubbled scar.

Two months in and you found yourself barely limping at that point, trailing around his home. Taehyung lived in a cabin somewhere on the outskirts of Vantierra. Slowly with each day passing your vicious words began to eat at you as you realized that nothing of the horrors you imagined had happened. Taehyung was nothing short of a gentleman towards you. He spent time with you explaining more about Vantierra and the kind. You found that nearly all that you had heard or knew about this place was false. They were far more sophisticated than those at the palace. The few you had come in contact with, being Dasom, her son and his mother were all wonderful people. His mother had come to you and spoke to you personally. She held your hand and spoke to you gently. She never made it a point to discuss your humanness. Your eyes nearly teared up, you had never experienced such kindness. How could you have called these people savages? You were beginning to understand the only savages you knew were them. The people you ran from. You had yet to meet his father, he had told you he was a busy man. You didn’t hold it to him. Everything was already more than enough. This wasn’t your place anyways, so there wasn’t a need to begin making attachments.

He hadn’t let you out of the house, on orders by his sister, you needed to heal. Grumbling you understood and was patient, patient for months, until today. You had remained indoors only feeling the sun through the windowpane for too many days. Your body ached to feel the breeze and direct sunlight.

As you left the room you headed towards what was the living room. Taehyung was always gone during this time of day, but just in case you paused attempting to pick up any sounds that Taehyung was home. When you couldn’t pick up his noises you fully stepped out. Your hand ran over the furniture, vaguely trailing your hands everywhere. Subtly you had been putting to memory every single texture in his cabin. Vaguely his scent faded around the house, but it was more prominent in the living room where he had been sleeping since he gave you his room. When you trialed your hands on the table you let your hands soar as you stepped away and around. Your feet dug into the plush rug before your knee bumped into the back of a couch. Your hand clutched onto the back of the couch stabilizing yourself in a groan. You bit the sound as best you could, your knees were going to bruise. Standing up you kept going. You had assumed from hearing it close and open many times you were near the front door.  

Feeling the frame you found the front door of the cabin and skimmed it until you felt a heavy handle. You depressed the lever and pushed the heavy door open with your shoulder. You felt the afternoon breeze hit your face with a hint of saltiness hanging in the air. Birds whistled a song as you heard them fly from the trees. Stepping out into the sunshine your body rejoiced. Your bare feet went from a hot stone slab to grass and you dug your toes in like a child. A gleeful laugh bubbled from your chest. The blades were a refreshingly cool compared to the warm rays of pure sunlight. You stretched your arms out bathing in paradise.

You huffed as arms wrapped around your middle and you were hoisted and draped over someone’s shoulders. You belatedly realized it was Taehyung as you screamed out in fright. He slammed the door behind you shaking the wall of the cabin. You were unceremoniously dropped to the couch by the kind. You clutched your arms to your chest feeling a tremble overcome you.

Taehyung voice dipped deep in anger, “Y/n, I told you! You can’t go outside!”

You felt a flush of heat overcome you. Had you really done something so wrong? “I-I just wanted—.”

He growled, “Do you know what could’ve happened to you if—.” He didn’t finish his statement.

You were left silenced. Had you really done something wrong? You weren't used to this constraint, you were always allowed to wander on your own back at the palace. “Taehyung, I’m not a child. I can take care of myself!”

He scrunched his expression, “I know you’re not, but its-you’re injured.” He covered the stutter with another truth.

You spat back, “I never asked for this.” You brought your legs up to your chest tucking yourself in tight. You know you were being childish, but you felt so trapped. Being inside all day long was making you stir crazy. You just wanted…just wanted a moment of freedom.

He ignored the way you phrased your comeback. With a huff of anger, he hated looking at your curled up body, the way you frowned. He ran a hand through his hair. Without another word he stormed away from you and slammed his office door. Standing in the empty office his chest huffed, eyes deepening to liquid gold. He settled himself as his claws grew and fangs elongated.  

He felt so lost. What other choice did he have?

He came out much later from his office. The house was dark, an extended orange shadow coming from the fireplace caught his attention. He could sense you the whole time he was in his office. He wanted to apologize, but seeing you outside had his wolf surfacing to protect you. He was angry initially, but as he rounded the corner and saw you were curled up on the couch still, staring at the roaring fireplace he felt a wave of regret. Your face had fallen, that light he had become used to seeing a twinkle in you was missing. He rubbed his tired face, his hair was sticking out of his bun, he screwed up.

He approached you like a puppy returning after being scolded to know he was still loved. He saw your jaw quirk towards his direction, but otherwise, you didn't face towards him. Your eyes were following the shadows and light of the fire.

He stood nearby, and in a voice that was warm like a hug, “I’m sorry.”

You hummed as you sipped on the drink you had made for yourself.

He sighed heavily taking a seat next to you. He half expected you to move away but you stayed seated. A finger was running the rim of your cup as you avoided looking in his direction.

"It's dangerous for an unmated kind to go outside and you're injured."

You lifted your head, catching onto an unknown word, white eyes vaguely looking in his direction. “What’s a mate?”

A hot flush overcame him. It reminded him that you still were learning about the kind. “A mate is…like a soulmate. It’s a marked kind couple that was destined by the Goddess.”

You connected the dots, “But I’m not a kind, I should be fine.” Trailing off at the end, “You said it wasn’t dangerous.”

He huffed, the words just on the tip of his tongue, but he swallowed it. Oh, how he just wanted to tell you. To tell you you were his, he wanted to grab you and mark you right here to prove a point that you were his mate. You were of the kind. His kind. He restrained himself but felt the itch within. He was glad you couldn’t see him right now, you would consider him a pathetic kind if you saw the gold swirling in his eyes.

“Kind or not, you’re an unmarked female. It’s too dangerous for you on your own.”

“I’m not incapable Taehyung, I promise I won’t cause any trouble.” You set your cup down on the coffee table and turned towards him finally.

He sighed, “No, you can’t go.”

You puffed your chest, you knew no matter how much you pushed he would only keep denying you. You wanted to explore Vantierra. The place you found yourself so curious about with a new mind. You still weren’t sure how it applied to you that you were an unmarked female.

Bluntly you asked as it slipped past your lips before your mind could catch up, “Do you have one Taehyung?”

He gulped, unsure of how to answer, but he settled on a half-truth. “I don’t.”

You nodded in understanding. A part of yourself felt relieved. You couldn't place it but imaging him already mated made your heart deflate. You enjoyed being next to Taehyung.

He reached out and took your hand and tangled it in his. You squeezed his back.

“I’ll take you out. I promise…just right now I can’t. Give me a few days.”

You lit up, the familiar smile he was used to seeing bloomed, “Really?”

He smiled, reached up with his other hand to pinch at your cheek teasingly, “Yeah. I have some things to take care of right now, but I’ll do it.”

You smiled.

A deep chuckle reverberates in your ears. “You must be bored here.”

You bit your lip feeling childish, "I've never done anything. When I was at the palace, I was always doing something?”

His ears perked up hearing you speak a bit about yourself. He pondered on it for a moment. His thumb was still stroking your cheek as you leaned into the touch, “You know, I think my sister could really use the help. Do you want me to ask her if you could help her?”

You perked up, you liked the idea. “I’d like that.”

You nodded a smile blooming on your lips. God, how he wanted to kiss them, but for now, touching you like this was enough.

True to his word he asked his sister and you found yourself helping organize her collection herbs. She made you a lavender necklace and each time you were over she’d replace it with a fresh flower. You’d take the short trip over to her place before the break of dawn with Taehyung as your escort. She was always insistent with it that you had to wear it. It brought a smile to your face, it was a thoughtful gift. While you helped out, you memorized each leaf and smell in order to place them accordingly. Your favorite was the lavender that always hung around your neck. Seeing your interest in the craft she taught you a bit of medicine when her hands weren’t occupied by the pup. Taemin was always so active. When you first came over Taemin kept you busy with questions asking about humans. You found out you were the first human he’d met. When he began asking about why humans weren’t in Vantierra you couldn’t answer him. His mother ended up pulling him away. You found that odd, but then you recalled back, the ideas you were fed about this place. It’s a given that he’d never seen a human. No one wanted to come here in fear of not making it out.

Oh, how wrong they were.

Noticing it was difficult for you finding herbs on the wall of drawers that sorted the herbs, she decided she had to do something. You had never learned how to read, but she figured out a reading system of dots poked into the paper by a needle that you could run your finger over. You practiced hard memorizing the alphabet she created with the dots. It took you a month, but you did it. She placed small cards around the room with the dots so you could easily figure things out. She let you bring home some herbs and practice simple potions. Taehyung would come home to you spread out in the living room with dotted scrolls and paper everywhere. His sister had praised you every time he came to pick you up late at night. You were learning so fast and making potions she hadn’t expected a beginner to be able to do. Taehyung bristled with pride hearing that from his sister. On long nights when Taehyung would come home late he’d find you asleep on the floor among your splayed out notes and herbs. His wolf would rumble at how precious you looked all curled up on yourself. Gently he’d always pick you up and take you into his room and tuck you in for the night. He’d place a gentle kiss to your forehead that had you sighing in delight and a small smile would appear.

You couldn’t have been happier, you can’t remember the last time you felt this happy.

Taehyung quickly began realizing his mistake with how he initially treated you. He tried to be more transparent with you. When he wasn’t away training or doing Alpha work, as he had put it, he spent the days by your side.

You hadn’t noticed outright at first until his sister mentioned it to you that she’d never seen her brother so mellow and sweet before. She’d coo each time he would pick you up and instantly you’d be engulfed in his tight embrace. It was so normal that you’d never questioned his advances. You started to pick up on how casually and gently his touches became to you. His hand was always holding yours or some part of your being was always touching one another. It left you conflicted. You remember Taehyung mentioning mates. How each kind had a mate and how he told you he didn’t have one.

Were you just someone temporary until his mate came along? Your eyes widened as you realized what you just said. You…you had developed feelings for the man. You found comfort in his touch. You wanted to be near him whenever you could, just to hear him speak. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach and trailed up your throat, Oh Goddess, you…you…liked Taehyung. You liked him a lot.

You swallowed the feeling. You weren’t going to be here for long. You were going to leave. You were going to leave. You couldn’t stay. No matter what.

Purposefully you had been avoiding his touch. You pulled away gently when he would reach for an embrace in greeting, or when he'd tangle his hand in yours. You'd slip your hand out of his and pretend to be busy. Initially, he figured you were busy, but when you kept pulling away he grew weary. Had he done something wrong? It was making his wolf go insane being without your touch. At night when he was sure you were asleep, he would go for a run to burn off the energy until he'd come home burnt out.  

Passing by the living room with a glass of water you glanced overhearing Taehyung adjusting his pillows and blanket. You licked your lips working up the nerves to ask. “Is it comfortable?”

His ears perked up as he stood to full height, “What is?”

You turned towards where you assumed he was, “The couch. I..I just took your room. I can sleep on the couch, it’s no big deal. I used to sleep on the floor so the couch is more than enough for me.”

A growl puttered up his throat. How could they make you sleep on the floor? He would never make you sleep on the floor.

“I’m fine, I don’t mind it.”

You heard the creaking of the couch as he sat down and your face scrunched. You set down your glass and walked over to him. You stood between his spread legs gazing down at the shadow you could faintly see staring up at you. He looked up at you in surprise, this was the closest to him you had been in a week. You were nervous. It was adorable watching your mind churn.

“Go to sleep in the room.”

“No.”

“Are all the wolves so stubborn?” you muttered under your breath.

He chuckled, “Oh, what’s that supposed to mean?”

He raised a hand and naturally settled it on the back of your leg out of instinct. The warmth of your skin made him purr. You didn't pull away from him so he kept it there. "The kind, we’re very protective of our women. We like to be sure they’re taken care of.”

You decided to overlook his wording, despite it sending a flush up against your system. You bit the inside of your cheek, “I’m not letting you sleep on the couch anymore Tae. It’s not good for you.”

He smiled a grin so big it stretched to his ears, his mate was so dotting and caring. In a blink of an eye, he picked you up princess style, realizing you weren’t going to back down. Why did you have to be so stubborn like he was?

You yelped clutching onto his shoulders, “Tae! Put me down.”

He continued to walk until you both were in the room together. He placed you down on the sheets. Debating for a moment, he stripped himself of his shirt and slip into the opposite side of the bed. He could control himself. He could. You felt the dip of the bed and the shuffling of sheets as he settled in. Your heart was beating loud and he could hear it. He smirked. "I won't do anything, go to sleep."

"I-I could sleep on the couch." You attempted to get up but an arm wrapped around your waist and settled you back on the bed. When he was sure you weren't going to leave he let go despite him wanting to pull you closer. "Stay."

Feeling the butterflies creep up again you gulped hard and nodded. You settled in and closed your eyes. You weren’t sure you were going to sleep as your heart was thumping. He could hear it and it became his lullaby as he fell asleep to your breathing that eventually evened out.

You woke up with tangled limbs. Your face was pressed up against his chest. You blinked away the sleep as you realized one of your hand was embraced him and your other was tangled in his hair. You’ve never felt so rested and content. You must still be dreaming. You nuzzled into his chest trying to relish in the dream.

He rumbled, pleased with your actions. He was fast asleep but it was like the wolf within was completely aware. He trailed his hand down your back tracing your curves, grazing over your ass and you gasped at the sensation.

Nope. You weren’t asleep. This was very real.

He kept going over your thigh until he was holding the crevice of your knee. He pulled your leg up and over onto his waist as he secured you to him. Your heart was racing fast in your chest. He trailed his hand back down your waist until it settled on your ass. He cupped the cheek and squeezed. You moaned unable to hold in the noise. A loud rumble answered you back as he squeezed once more.

You felt like you were going to combust. He felt you stirring underneath and clutched you tighter to him. A growl pulled back his lips exposing his teeth and fangs. You clutched at his chest whispering his name to him. A ting of fear at the aggressive sounds leaving his body. His body slowly began to relax as you called to him and with a huff that trilled his lips, he slowly blinked his eyes open. He gazed around, then to your body tucked over his. The way your eyes stared back at him wide like saucers.

He realized his mistake pulling his hand away and lowering your leg, “I’m so sorry!” He nearly stumbled out of bed as he slipped a shirt on. “I got-I gotta go train early today. I’ll be back later.”

You sat up, a flush still over your system as you could still feel his touch. You didn't get a chance to answer him back as he was already making a way out of the room and then in an echo you heard the front door.  

You felt flushed and the butterflies were back.

Days passed by as normal, but he found himself sleeping on the bed at night. You’d wake up each morning tangled and each time he’d apologize. It was getting harder and harder to control himself. This morning he had woken up with you under him and he was slotted between your legs. You were looking up at him panting as he realized he had been nuzzling and nipping at your neck. The small prickings left from his shallow markings.

It was quiet for a moment he bathed in the sound of your panting. However, instead of hearing his usual apology, you turned away from him with a sad expression, "Tae, you shouldn't. You have someone waiting for you."

He stared down at you with surprise, but instead of saying something he bit back his tongue. He got up without a single word and slipped on his shirt and quietly left.

You were left laying there as a tear rolled down from the corner of your eye. You had to. You couldn’t, but the butterflies still fluttered.

You clenched your eyes shut and another tear was forced out.

You couldn’t.

--- Later

He was sweaty, hair disheveled after a long day at training. Your words haunted him, the sadness in your tone. The way you pushed him away. It was all his fault again. His father, the current Alpha of the pack, was forcing him into harder training, so he buried his mind in that all day.

When he pushed open the cabin door he called your name, “Y/n?”

When there wasn’t a response he searched around the cabin for you. He opened his bedroom door and found you asleep, curling in on yourself surrounded by notes. You slept above the blankets, which must mean you must’ve been waiting for him.

At that moment, he decided it was enough. He had to do something.

He called to you softly, “Y/n?” When your face began to scrunch you lightly stirred. He called your name out and your hand came out to reach for his. Your hands tangled in his as he brought it up to his lips and brushed them over your soft skin.

Your eyes fluttered open as you called out his name softly, “Tae?”

He chuckled, “Hey sleepyhead?”

You groaned and rubbed your head into the comforter in protest. “What time is it?”

He frowned slightly, “It’s past sunset.”

You sat up in bed nodding your head willing away a yawn. A bit of him died on the inside, you were so adorable and beautiful.

A playful feeling caused a smirk. He turned around as he kneeled by the bed. He grabbed both of your arms and pulled you towards the edge of the bed. He grabbed the back of your thighs and hoisted you onto his back. You wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders and legs around his waist as he picked you up. A hot flush encompassed your being when you felt his broad back. “Tae! What-what are you doing?” He could hear your heartbeat erratically in his chest.

He chuckled. “Hold on tight. I want to show you something.”

He purred in delight when your breath tickled his neck. “Okay.”

Sneaking out the back door he let his eyes swirl amber as he let the wolf pick up on any sounds. When all he could hear was rabbits scurrying or the occasional cricket chirp he deemed it safe to move. He clutched you tighter to him as he picked up the pace and disappeared into the woods behind the cabin. You were so soothed by the heat that radiated off him you wanted to fall right back to sleep. The words still played at the back of your mind, don’t hold him close. Yet, you found your eyes slowly closing, even though you fought against them to stay open. Your head slumped into his neck.

He purred in happiness.

He walked for a mile to his favorite spot. A secluded place by the river just a bit away from the village. He began humming a melodic tune, waking you from your short slumber. Along with his husky song, your ears focus in on the crunch beneath his feet. One thing you have come to enjoy about Taehyung’s culture is their lack of shoes. The soft trickling of water fills your ears and you pulled away from his back to listen in. "We're here." Gently he let go of your feet until you found your balance. The summer air was still warm at this time of the evening. It dawned on you, it was Summer. You had been in Vantierra for a full season. You pushed down the unsettling feeling that the back of your mind was itching to remind you you weren’t here to stay.

Instead, you allowed the sound of water gently flowing fill your ears. You had never really heard it in person, only stories of bodies of water, instead of palace fountains. “Is that…is that a river?”

He beamed, “Yeah, the Vante River. This is my favorite spot. I’ve been coming here since I was a kid.”

You smiled at that. Was he a mischievous kid like you’d imagine? You stepped closer to the shore feeling the cool breeze overcome your skin and rustle the summer dress you wore. This. This was the freedom you were looking for.

Taehyung gently took your hand, “Sit with me.” You followed along as he crouched down in front of you. He licked his lips, “I want to show you something. Something I’ve been only telling you so far, but I want to show you. All of me.”

You raised your brows, “O-okay.”

“It’s going to sound intense, but I promise I’m okay. It doesn’t hurt, but I want to show you the other me.”

You nodded.

He stepped away from you, a few feet away as he began stripping. He watched your eyes shift. Although he knew you couldn’t see him, a sense of nervousness filled him like you were watching him undress. He wanted to be vulnerable though. He wanted to be vulnerable with you. He wanted to show you who he was. When he was bare, he let the shift take over.

You heard the crackling of joints, humanistic sounds warping into something more feral before it was quiet and a few pants filled the air. You expected to feel afraid, but somehow it felt familiar to the antics. You waited until you heard thudding steps approaching you. You waited with bated breath. It was him. It was Taehyung he would never harm you. You felt softness nuzzle against you until you registered it was thick fur. With a bit more nuzzling you got the idea that he wanted you to touch him. To see him.

His wolf.

He laid down in front of you and he placed his giant head between your hands. You ran your hands over his large skull that was a width past your shoulders. You softly ran your thumbs underneath his eyes, then along his long muzzle. His jaw was large, his skull was heavy in your hands. You trailed down his neck, massaging behind his pointed ears to reward him. He purred and you could feel the vibrations roll up your arms. You paused and asked, “Can I continue?”

He huffed in a response; you could hear his tail thumping on the grass. You chuckled. He was such a puppy trapped in an oversized wolfs body. You felt down to his shoulders and his body expanded. He was a very large beast. His fur was so soft, it was thick and regardless of how many times you combed through it with your fingers, you felt like you'd never reach skin. You wandered the color. In passing Tae had told you he had dark hair, so you assumed it to be the same. He was sturdy, thick and muscular. At that moment you wanted to curl up and lay on his side. He was large enough like a full mattress.

His gleaming brown eyes watched as your face twitched and a smile would bloom as you traced about him. He wanted to pounce and smother you in kisses.

“I finally understand why they call you Big Bear.”

A chuffing sound hicked his body as what you could only assume was a laugh from the wolf. You ruffled his fur bring your hands back to cup his face. “You have so much light around you Taehyung. I wish I could stay forever.”

All happiness built had died out. Before you knew it he pulled back and you heard the tale signs he had shifted back. The crackling of bones and a groan filled the air before heat radiated around you once again. “Stay,” he pleaded.

You gulped, trying to pull your hand away, “I can’t—.”

He shuffled closer and you felt his sweltering heat. He was dreading this; he knew that he couldn’t keep it from you much longer. He knew he’d have to tell you, but he didn’t want to tell you like this. He was hoping that you would forget everything and just stay by his side.

“Why?” He asked desperately. You tried pulling away but he held you tight, “Why?”

Speaking out all your insecurities, “I don’t belong.”

Through pants, he came back up to you taking your hands to cup his human cheeks again. "Feel, feel my face."

You weren’t sure what was going on, but you obliged. You felt over his defined features, his jawline, and a prominent nose. Then your thumbs moved along the side of his nose to feel the dips into his deep, linear eyes. You then smooth down his thick strong brows before you bring your hands back down to cup his cheeks.

“Tae—?”

“This is me. The wolf is me. All of it is me. I want you to see me. I want you to see me, for who I am.”

He breathed in heavily taking in your scent as it filled his lungs with happiness once again. He could smell you still despite the lavender, your sweet scent was always strong to him. “There is something I haven’t told you.”

You quirked your head, what has he been keeping from you?

“I told you there is something among my kind that is special to our kind. It’s a blessing by the Moon, but you, you were a misfortune. It should’ve never happened”

Your face falls in hurt. Your heart ached to know he thought of you as such. You were misfortune.

He squeezed your hands, “A human and a kind should never happen, it would only bring death.”

Your mouth drops, your mind swirling. He holds you gently rubbing your cheek like you were porcelain. “But you…you broke the legend. Mates are only supposed to be between the kind, but you…you changed that.”  He finally confesses, “You are meant to be here. You are meant to be…with me. You, you are my mate.”

Your mind was working a million miles an hour. Didn’t he tell you he didn’t have one? You were so confused. You whispered out to him afraid to break the tension, “What?”

He leaned down and held your foreheads together, “It means that you and I…we’re connected.”

You kept whispering to him, “Didn’t you say you didn’t have one?”

He sighed heavily, “I lied. I didn’t want to scare you.”

He brought away from your hand that had stayed firmly on his cheeks and laced your hands together. He brought them to your chest first, tapping over your heart before he brought it to his bare chest. His body still nude from the shift, but it was natural to him. It was natural to him to be this vulnerable in front of you. In a warm embracing voice, “You and I are connected by the soul, bestowed by the Moon. You are my other half.”

Your jaw dropped, your body felt weak. You…you were Taehyung’s mate? You were Taehyung’s mate.

Sensing your processing he finally asked what he’d been holding in. “Why were you in that cave?”

You licked your lips, “I ran away.” Gulping you confessed, “They wanted to take my eyes away, I was supposed to be sacrificed.”

He growled within his chest; anger rippled through him. “Then stay, stay with me. I’ll protect you. Nothing is more important to me than you.” He tilted your chin back, “Do you want that?”

You thought it over for a moment. You wanted that. You wanted safety. You wanted to be in his arms. You’ve never felt more right. The butterflies were going rampid within your chest as, finally, you felt them being unleashed. You were afraid. Afraid this whole time that this would just be temporary. A sense of overwhelm filled you, mixed with happiness. You nodded your head, pressing it up against his forehead again. “I’ll stay.”

He purred in happiness. Your heart was beating fast in your chest. Unexpectedly he leaned down and left a kiss on the dip of your neck between your shoulder. When he pulled back up he rumbled the words to you that felt like had been branded where he pecked, “Mate.”

He pressed his soft lips to yours and it felt like the world had collapsed around you. It was just you and him as you returned the press. He pulled away after the short peck. Both your lips pulled back as you giggled and chuckled. It felt so right. He grabbed the back of your neck and angled your head as he pressed his lips against yours again and again.

You spent the rest of the evening there basking in each other presence. You couldn't really believe it. Taehyung was your mate. He whispered it over and over to you again as he held you tight. Everything in his instincts was telling him it was too risky to mark you outside. He wanted you back at home where he could mark you freely.

As he stepped closer to the cabin the hair on his arms and the back of his neck stood up. Something wasn’t right. He could smell something in the air and he knew what it was. He set you down and turned to you whispering, “Stay close.”

You obliged holding onto his hand tight as you both entered the cabin through the back door. He stepped into the kitchen with you protectively behind him. He knew the day would come and he had to face it.

Rounding the corner and walking down the hall you both came to the living room with a man hunched over sitting on the couch. The fireplace was crackling with life as it glimmered on the side of the man's face. You could hear the telling creaking of the couch as someone stood.

“A human Taehyung!” The voice boomed through the cabin.

Taehyung protectively kept you behind him. “Alpha, it’s not—.”

You connected the dots, this must be Taehyung’s father.

“You thought the lavender would keep me from smelling the human.” He spat causing you to shiver, “I could smell her on you. Do you realize what you’ve done, son? Harboring a human!”

“She’s not just a human, she’s my mate.”

His father laughed, anger elevating “Mate, Ha!” His eyes narrowed, “Son, how? How is she your mate, she would be dead.”

You clutched to Taehyung tighter. Taehyung squeezed your hand back. Were you going to die?

The front door burst open and you were forced away from him. Taehyung growled and ripped you from them but four betas attacked him. He growled, fangs elongating, eyes swirling in a blood amber. You were ripped away from Taehyung by his father. You tried fighting but his father had a tight grip on you. You pleaded, “Please, he didn’t do anything wrong!”

Taehyung roared, “NO! LET ME GO!”

“Son, you’ve endangered us.”

“NO! SHE’S MY MATE!”

The Alpha shouted back, shaking the walls and it vibrated within you, “IMPOSSIBLE!”

The four betas holding down Tae had him kneeling as they used every muscle to restrain him.

The alpha payed you no mind. “How dare you make a fool out of me Son.”

You screamed as you were shoved from his father to a beta to apprehend you. All the betas growled as Taehyung was thrusting out of the kneeling position. His shoulders were expanding, shirt tearing as he felt the shift overcome him. He was furious. They knew he was going to overpower them easily. A beta carefully held a stem of a tulip and then shoved the bulb of the tulip to Taehyung’s nose. Instantly he had a reaction as Taehyung began coughing and groaning in pain. The room around him began spinning.

Panic filled your system, you had no idea what was going on. Your chest ached, as you felt pain ripple in your chest faintly. It felt like you were suffocating. Coughing as well, you still tried calling out for him, “Taehyung! Taehyung! What’s going on?”

His head began spinning. You heard muttering about a tulip, then it struck you. His sister had warned you about brining flowers in the house when you commented that there weren’t flowers in her collection of herbs and spices. She told you that most wolves were extremely allergic that specific ones could put them into a coma. Like…a tulip.

“Tae! Taehyung! Taehyung, please, please don’t hurt him!”

He growled as he slumped, sweat was pouring down his face as he tried keeping away. “Let her go!”

His father tilted his head back commanding the room, “Take her.”

He watched you get dragged away from him and out of the cabin as his vision began to fade around the edges of his eye. He roared your name before he collapsed to the floor. In pants he turned his head and watched them drag you away and you struggled to call his name.

“Y/N!” he got out before his vision completely faded.

--- Hours later.

Four of them dragged his weak body into the arena handcuffs around his wrist and shackles around his ankles. Wolf steel that even he wouldn’t be able to break. He was dropped unceremoniously in the center of the arena. In a groan, he collapsed onto his knees. Slowly he raised his spine as his ripped shirt barely held up on his being from the earlier partial shift. The flickering orange flames from the fire bowls that surrounded the arena deepened Taehyung’s dark expression.

He sensed your presence before you appeared from the shadows. You were brought out by two beta’s and held within their grasp on the side of the ring through a trap door. Your hands were cuffed as well. He growled at the way they handled you. How dare they handle you like an object.

A voice tore his attention to the council of elders that were all seated in a row in a seat box. “Taehyung, you’ve brought a human into Vantierra. Do you understand what you’ve done?” Taehyung avoided the gaze of his father who sat among the council. The eldest member sat in the center and slowly rose from his chair in a tremble.

Taehyung spoke honestly in front of the council and to the pack that had filled the arena to witness his trial. “She’s my mate.”

A hushed gasped surged through the whole crowd, mumbles erupted and the council’s expression hardened. The eldest still standing voice echoed through, “Silence!” He cleared his throat, “Taehyung, do you realize that is impossible, no human can ever be a mate of a kind. You’ve committed treason against the pack and the Gods.”

Taehyung pushed up from his kneeling posting until he swayed on his feet. The shackles and chains jangled in his movements, but he was determined to stand. “I’m not lying. She is my mate.”

A female voice rung out of the council, “Bring her.” The two betas pushed you forward until you were in the arena and they brought you next to Taehyung. He whispered your name to you. Your eyes flicked around until you found where the voice was coming from and you whispered it back to him. He wanted to touch you, to check if you were okay, but he restrained himself. He knew he couldn’t at the moment.

You stood straight. You had no idea what to expect. Your skin was bristling, you could tell countless eyes were on you.

You heard footsteps amongst the hushed murmurs approaching you both until they stood in front of you. Taehyung knew who she was, the woman who approached you both cloaked in a white robe. She was the moon priestess. She waved her staff over you; it held a crystal ball at the end that glimmered as she waved it over you, glowing ominously. She brought the staff towards her and gazed into it swirling her hand over the crystal. She hummed and ah-ha-ed until she looked between the both of you.

In a crackly voice that was barely used she announced, “It is true. She is his mate.”

The crowd gasped again.  

Her crystal ball light up and began glowing. She peered into it then back to you with surprise written all over her features. “Your eyes.”

Your head turned in the priestess direction as she explained. “Your parents made a deal with Her.”

You had never known them, but you had always wondered about them. You were told you were dropped off at the palace not long after your birth.

She continued, “You weren’t meant to live, child. But your mother pleaded with the Goddess to give you life when no other Gods would listen to their plea. She gave you life, a bit of her life, but in exchange for something. The Goddess took your sight in the deal.”

“You, you my dear are meant to serve the moon here. She wants you to watch over the kind. To be of the kind.”

You were speechless. You were here because of a Goddess? Your mouth was agape as you tried finding the right words. It was hard to think with the hushed murmurs coming from every direction.

“Priest, how can that be true! She is human.”

The woman turned towards the council, “The moon chose what she chose. She is our guardian of the kind and the Moon here.”

The council of elders grumbled, and growled, upset their traditions were being shaken. Mostly they were unsatisfied that the possibly next in line Alpha would have a Human mate, regardless if she was chosen by the Goddess. It was against tradition! They couldn't stand the thought of their pack being tainted by a human.

The eldest of the council spoke, “The Moon may have mated them, but on our soil, the pack isn’t going to be safe under the rule of a kind with a non-kind. He cannot be Alpha.”

Taehyung’s father for the first time broke gaze on him and heaved in a semblance of offense at the elder.

“Elders! That’s not true!” He had been training his whole life to become the Alpha.

“Unfair? Child, fate is unfair. You are unworthy.”

He bit back a growl, “Let me prove it. Let me prove to you in an Altura!”

A hushed gasp floated through the crowd. He circled gazing at the arena eyeing the other sons who were in the audience, who’ve also trained their whole life to become Alpha. “Let’s fight for it here, once and for all. Let’s settle it now who is to be the next Alpha of Vantierra.”

The eldest laughed as well as a chuckle rung through the council. His father’s expression remained hard and staring at him.

You whispered to him, “Taehyung, please.” It was stupid. You weren’t worth all the trouble.

You tried calling out to him but he growled at you. “This is my culture, our ways, I will prove it. I’ll prove to them that you are my mate, that I’m the next Alpha.”

In the next moment, you were being taken away by the betas. You shouted for him, but it was drowned out by the elder's announcement. “Taehyung of the Kim clan, prove it, prove it under the soil nourished by the Moon, in front of everyone that you are worthy. That you and your human mate are worthy.”

Through a distance call, you heard your name being called as the betas dragged you away and out of the arena. Dasom wrapped her arms around you uncaring of the warning growls of the betas. You held onto her tightly. She pulled you close to her holding you in her arms. His mother stood next to you as well, clutching your shoulders, “It’s going to be alright, y/n. He’ll win. My son is strong.”

His shackles and handcuffs were removed as the other contending alpha’s entered the area. Each distinct to their region around Vantierra. Taehyung kept his shoulders squared as he was glaring at each contender returning their dominance. Bloodlust already filled their eyes. Each contender’s hair was just about as long as Taehyung’s. As they all stood in a circle facing one another an omega approached each Alpha and tied their hair into the ritual ponytail. His father stepped down from the box and approached behind him. His father brought up a blade and sawed off the ponytail. His short hair cascaded down his face in a rugged cut that fell over his eyes. His father went around to each contender and gathered their ponytail.

The hair was given to the priestess. She raised it to the Moon chanting a blessing in the name of the Goddess. “Reveal the next true alpha, the true alpha of Vantierra.” She tossed all the hair into a fire bowl and the fire expanded as if it took a deep breath before it settled.

Stripping himself of clothing along with the other contenders, he let the shift take over as observed the other five do the same. The silence was filled with cracking bones and then feral growls. Near black fur took over his being as his large claws extend, his fangs elongated past his lips and he reached the final form to be as big as the size of a brown bear. His being was large, but the others were nearly as large as he was. He growled and when the elder called for battle all five lunged at him.

You wanted to dig your face into his sister's shoulder, but you kept your ears tuned in. You kept your ears open for Taehyung. The sounds of it all were terrifying with grotesque sounds of flesh and bones crunching. It all vibrated your being.

His jaw was extended as far wide as it would go when he clamped down on a brown wolf. The intention of the Altura is to never kill but to incapacitate everyone until there was only one standing. The wolf yelped and howled as Tae snapped the limb. His body was thrust off the brown wolf as another slammed into his body sending him rolling and jaw already snapping at another. He was still dizzy from the tulip and it was frustrating him that he wasn't performing at his best. His hearing was ringing in his ears and in a moment of weakness, his leg was bit. He growled and flipped around bitting the wolf in an all kill bit rendering him out of the Altura.

You tugged on Dasom's sleeve, "Is there any way we can stop this?"

She shook her head hugging you tight, “No, he has to do this. No one can help him.”

You wanted to cry as you heard painful sounds and you had no idea where they were coming from. Your mind was filtering the worst. What if Taehyung was going to die?

Jaws clashing, bodies slammed into one another as roars of pain and success filled the air. His body was slammed against a pillar holding a fire bowl sending the flames and embers into the ring. The embers caught on his fur but he shook them off as he stood. It happened in a blink of an eye, I was only him and one other contender. The other alpha was already circling the ring, rounding the fire pit created in the center of the ring. He had enough of playing nice. He picked his heavy body up and growled at his contender as he circled the other around the pit. He watched the flickering, feral gaze of the other wolf, but his eyes were reflecting the same intensity. As if on cue they both lunged for one another over the fire clashing mid-air. It was difficult to see, the smoke from the fire had created a thick cloud over the arena. He was able to track a vague silhouette and he charged for it slamming his being into the other. He pressed the wolf down holding him down with his weight as he bit the wolf shoulder with a crunch. An ending bite. A pained howl filled the air as the other alpha slumped. He released his jaw from the other wolf letting the blood drool from his jaw.

Emerging from the smoke he rises back in his human form. His hair tapered to his head covered in sweat as he panted. He had won. He leaned his head back with a howl to the Moon in victory.

Dasom next to you began howling, “He won! He won y/n!”

Your body instantly relaxed and knees felt weak, but luckily Dasom was holding you up. He had won. Taehyung had won. He was the next alpha. You were going to be able to stay. He broke misfortune.

He proudly approached the council as he limped towards the seat box. Taehyung’s father stood with a proud smile, with a loud booming voice he announced, “Vantierra! Your next Alpha!”

The council all started at Taehyung in contempt but they made no comment. They had to accept it. He was their new leader. The crowd cheered with a mixture of howling and hoots.

His father stepped away from his spot and came towards him. Taehyung watched carefully as handed his son the blade. “I’m sorry son.”

Holding back a smile Taehyung gripped the blade in his rust-stained hands, "I'm not the one you need to apologize to father." His father turned towards you, realizing he was gravely wrong as he nodded. He turned his back towards his son as Taehyung carefully he cut his father ponytail that reached the back of his knees. Holding up his father’s hair he tossed it into the fire then the ritual was over. Taehyung was the Alpha of Vantierra.

One being started then the whole crowd followed as in unison the pack howled to the moon upon the new initiation. Letting the Goddess know of the new choice.

He turned towards you as his sister had whispered into your ears. His mother pushed you forth. You heard his heavy steps towards you and you were pulled into his embrace. You wrapped your arms tight around his sticky back holding him tight for dear life. Tears were streaking down your face, “Don’t ever do something like that again.”

He laughed wholeheartedly kissing your forehead before he captured your lips. “My mate.”

You whispered it back to him for the first time, “My mate.”

You could stay.

--- Months later.

Even after the Altura, the adrenaline hadn’t worn off. He was constantly busy with smaller inauguration rituals, duties to the pack and taking on responsibilities he had been training his whole life for. You barely had time to see him. Now that the whole pack knew of your existence you were expected to take on new responsibilities being the mate of the Alpha. You were the Luna as they often addressed you. However, with the new title, it didn't immediately bring acceptance from the pack.

It wasn’t easy, people had a hard time approaching you since you were human. But it all changed when you found a real knack in healing. A family came when you were alone cleaning up Dasom’s shop. Their pup had been gravely sick. The growled for Dasom, but you told them she was out. You took the chance and told them you could help. You were their best shot at the time.

You checked over the child as Dasom had taught you and you put together a potion that you had memorized in passing. You administered it and the child began to regain consciousness, the paleness seeped from her skin and she glowed rosy again. Her parents were in disbelief, but they thanked you over and over again.  

The word had spread and from that point on slowly you had gained the trust of the pack.

You finally had a home.

Taehyung came home late, exhausted after a long day of democracies. When he opened the door to his cabin all he wanted to do was fall asleep. He stopped in his tracks when he saw you sitting with your back to the couch and you had scrolls and notes all around the living room floor. He couldn't help the chuckle that bubbled up his throat. You were holding a needle between your teeth. He crept over to you and picked it between your teeth and pushed it into your pushpin.

“Hey! I was—.” He leaned down and encased your lips with his.

He smiled against your lips, “Hello baby.”

You smiled returning the greeting. He clamored around your notes and sat behind you encasing you between his legs as he leaned forward brushing the hair away from your forehead before he placed a soft peck there. You smelled exceptionally sweeter today. He found You hummed in delight.

“What are you doing baby?”

You brought your hand up and trailed it up to his hand and then up to his arm gently rubbing until you clutched his hand. “There’s a flu going around and I wanted to practice and memorize all the potions to help out Dasom.”

He purred and he leaned down to your ear, “My mate is so sweet.” Really, you smelled so sweet.

You giggled as his warm breath tickled your neck. You adjusted your posture as you switched into a crossed leg position. A wave of heat came over his system and he’s trembling. He begins breathing heavily through his nose.

You notice the change, “Taehyung, are you alright.”

He's panting into your neck, voice oddly steely, “Shit.”

You raised a brow, none the wiser to what was going on. “Tae?”

“Are you…are you—.” He growled out as his lips pulled over his gums, he could smell it. You were very fertile right now. A primal sensation within you probably was telling you to run, get far away, but with ease practice now you knew he would never hurt you. He peppered the side of your head with kisses and he wanted to kiss down your neck but you were out of reach. With his big hands, he picked you easily up off the floor and situated you in his lap with your back pressed to his chest.

He instantly found his way to your neck with his adventurous lips. “Taehyung—ugh.”

He groaned at the small sounds you were making. He was blazing hot. Your back was soaked as his shirt was soaked transparent through with his sweat. His complexion was completely flushed and pupils were blown out wide. That was odd, it was nearing winter, the winter fire couldn't you warm enough. “Baby.”

You turned around in his lap and he let you maneuver. You placed a hand on his cheek then moved to his forehead, “Baby, you’re running a fever.”

His brows knitted together as you swept as the sweat dripping from his hairline.

He captured your lips pulling you deeper into the straddling position. You tried pulling back but he had your lips under his control. His hands grasp your waist tightly kneading your hips. You gasped, but you still fought for logic, “Taehyung, you’re sick.”

“No, I’m-I’m in heat.” He was panting as he confessed. His eyes were locked on your gold marbling in white.

You squinted, biting back the embarrassment, that was another thing you didn’t know. “Taehyung, what’s a ‘heat’?”

He squeezed your hips again bringing his hands down as they cupped your ass. He pushed you forward and you felt something nudge at your core. You gasped grasping onto his shoulders for stability. He sounded very unwell voice gruff and he was on edge. He chuckled, leaning into pepper your neck in a few sloppy kisses. "It means I want you. I want to make you all mine, breed you."

“You’re ovulating and it must’ve brought mine on early.” You blushed suddenly aware that he could sense your recent bleeding.

You gulped at the last implication, “You have me, you have all of me.”

He pressed you down again on him eliciting another sound from you. “As you have all of me, but this, this was the connection I told you about.” Another growl rumbled his chest as he pulled your lips to his hard then pulled back for you both catch your breath. “I need to mark you.”

You weren’t sure what that was. He growled possessively and I didn’t deter you instead it set your core tightening.

The Alpha’s gaze filtered over your soft features caressing them gently between his hands. “Would you like me to tell you or show you?”

You licked your lips, “Both.”

It was an odd mixture to the world a human and a kind, but it was bizarrely poetic.

He growled. He captured your lips eagerly again biting at your lip until you he prodded with his tongue when you moaned. His eager tongue found your reluctant motion, but a possessive moan from his gave you a bit more courage to mimic his motions. You tasted so good on his tongue, like honey. “I’m going to claim you as mine, leave you with my mark for all to see.“ He kissed his way down your neck and found a spot that suited the mark the best. “Here, I will leave my mark here.”

Slowly he was thrusting up into you and you gasped. “And here, I will make you mine here.”

You whined and he swallowed the sounds in a searing kiss. You chased his lips with equal eager. A lust was building in your loins that had your legs trembling with excitement. No man has ever touched you this way. Your rational was sent into the fireplace as you felt his delirium rub off onto you. You wanted him too.

“I want to kiss all your soft human being. I want to hold each of your curves in my hands and bury myself in your cunt. I want to fill you ‘till your brimming with me. I want to have it all as you have all of me.” You shivered at his filthy words, but you liked it as you squeezed your legs around him. He groaned as your scent got stronger, he could practically feel you as your defense between him was your panties under your dress. He was working himself up and he combusted when you whimpered, “Please.” He pulled you up wrapping your legs tight around his waist in an inescapable embrace. You buried your head in his neck and peppered kisses there as you knew he liked. You were teasing his beast, you little minx.

Twirling you around he pinned you to the wall next to your shared bedroom. In a moment your reminded of his massive built as his biceps clutch you tight and his torso engulfs you caging you to the wall. He chuckled in your ear sending goosebumps lit on your skin. He dropped to the floor on his knees as he stuck his head to your pelvic bone inhaling your sweet arousal.

A blush overcame you, you tried pushing his head away but he growled at you, “Taehyung!”

He skimmed the side of your leg dipping up and under your dress splaying his hand over your thigh. He peppered kisses over the cloth of your dress. “Let me taste you.” You stuttered and he responded by nuzzling, “Only a taste.” You found yourself falling into a role of submission, you wanted his touch, you wanted it badly. You nodded, too embarrassed to vocalize it. He pulled off your panties and tossed them somewhere. Immediately your scent hit him like a wave that had him growling passively. His eyes had completely filtered out the gold and he was sure they were glowing red. He lifted your leg and settled it over his broad, bronze shoulder. You dug your hand into his hair trying to stabilize yourself. He licked a thick strip up your slit. His lips were pulling again exposing his fangs in a lust craze, you were too good. Too sweet to be true. “I’m going to need more than a taste.”

You called out his name but it was swallowed in a choke as he began lapping around your entrance. He moved up and around teasing your clit occasionally. Your eyes roll back in your head, you’ve never experience pleasure like this. He was soaking up all your moans. He used a long finger as he prodded around your entrance with the digit. He pressed a single finger inside, and you whined scrunching your expression. He shushed and hushed you as he slowly worked it in you. The slight stretch was painful initially, but it was quickly replaced by the pleasure that had you moaning again. He purred, "That's my good mate." He brought his lips back. If you could look down now you would see his wild expression as he looked near deranged, drowning in your juices.

When you relaxed around his digit he fit in another then another. He praised you, “You’re doing so good taking my fingers.” He worked his three fingers into you. Your body felt feeble as his digits ran over all the right places you had no idea existed within you. He wanted to get deeper taste more of you, so he ripped his fingers from your cunt and sucked all the essence from his fingers. He wasn’t going to waste a drop. He then tossed your other leg over his shoulder. Your hips naturally jerked towards him but he pinned you to the wall with both of his hands wrapped around your thighs. You were fastened to the wall like a frame. You yelped as you draped your legs over his broad shoulders. “T-tae!”

He devoured at you like a starved man. He couldn’t get enough of the sweet taste that kept flowing from you. He could feel you shaking, you were close. He commanded in between licked, “Come for me. Come on my tongue.”

You were trembling as he focused on sucking at your clit before it sent you over the edge. You clenched your eyes tightly as your mouth fell agape in a silent scream. The pleasure was unlike you had felt before. He kept licking at you despite the sensitivity. You were panting and pushing at his head, “Tae, It-it hurts.” He finally leaned back and lowered your feet to the floor. He caught you before you were about to fall as he picked you up not trusting you could walk.

He flung open the bedroom door and laid you on the bed as the blankets huffed around you. His shirt was drenched in sweat. He tore the garment off and with a heavy wet thud, it hit the floor. He was losing himself. The heat was progressing along faster than he expected. It wasn’t his first heat, but everything felt more intense for him. He stripped himself down until he was bare, he couldn’t stand being in clothing anymore.

He crawled over you taking your jaw in his hand as his lips found yours again. It wasn’t a sweet kiss it was full of lust. You could taste yourself on his lips but it didn’t repulse you. Your tounges meshed together trying to pull the most from one another. He pressed his forehead to yours and he took your hand and brought it to his length. Your hand pulled back feeling unfamiliar flesh. He held your hand tight, “Feel me, baby. I want you to feel me too."

Licking your lips you wrapped your hand around his cock. Your gasp was muted under his sound as you felt how big he was. Your jaw slacked as you felt precum coat your hand. His cock was hot in your hands as you ran your hand over the head of the call and down the shaft. Your hand barely fit around the girth. He moaned as you tighten your grasp around him in test. Towards the end of the shaft was two bumps that then tapered off. He trembled over you, "Think you can handle it, baby?"

You licked your lips unsure, but you wanted him. You wanted to feel all of him. “Yes.”

His pupils eclipse into a blood moon. He needed to be deep within you now. He had been restraining himself for so long. He wanted to fuck you until he couldn’t think straight, but he was already accomplishing that.

He ran the tip along your slit collecting all your essence despite the syrup dripping from his tip. Despite the heat taking over he was still cautious with you. He held your hips tightly within his near claws. He pushed in inch for inch past your folds and into your welcoming tight entrance. He paused at your entrance put up resistance against him. He massaged your hips urging you to relax with peppering kisses to your neck as he leaned down. “So good for me.” When he felt you relax he pushed in further. The pressure was painful as the stretch was beyond what you expected. He was large. He stilled waiting for you after a few inches. “I’m halfway, love, let me in.” Taking a deep breath you nodded and it escaped you the next moment he shoved himself the rest of the way in. You clawed at his shoulders throwing your head back to combat the pain. He caressed the side of your face placing kisses all around, “Are you okay?”

Sweat was dripping down your temple. He had paused before the bulb at the end of his shaft. “Oh my Goddess, Taehyung.” He kissed at you in apology. He couldn’t deny the vice clench around him told him you were going to feel good in a moment. He knew you’d be his tight bitch.

You nodded after a moment, the pleasurable sensation coming back to you. “It feels good.”

He licked at your neck where he wanted to make his claim. He murmured into your neck, “My mate. My precious mate.”

He pulled out shallow and then thrusted back in watching your expression contour. He had never seen anything more beautiful in his life. He dipped down and captured your lips as he picked up speed. “I want to fuck you until I can’t anymore and fill you up so good that your belly is swollen.” He pawed at your hips, “You were meant to bare my pups, would you like that baby?”

You shivered at the thought. He growled still thrusting into you, “You like that? You got so much wetter love.” You barely was able to nod as a shivered racked through your body as his tongue circled over your nipple. He nearly gobbled up the flesh in his mouth as he ravaged your chest. Your mind was hazy as you were receiving so much pleasure.

He was like a wild beast over you. His cock felt like it was nearly tearing you in half, but somehow your body accommodated for him. It was like it knew it all along and it was made for this. He kept telling you so, “You were made for this, you were made for me.”

You pulled him to you and kissed his neck nibbling on a spot similar to where he had been. He rumbled, "You're very kind like y/n."

You giggled but kept at it. You wanted to mark him too. You wanted the world to know he was yours too. “Your mine too.”

He glanced down at you in chance and his jaw slackened. He was bewitched by you. You had made him into a feverish man. He wanted to protect you with his whole being. He rumbled in approval, “I am, I’m all yours.”

He wasn’t sure how much longer he was going to last. The heat was pushing him to the edge faster than he’s ever been. He placed his hands on the back of your knees thrusting in deeper. You were panting crying and scratching his shoulders. He leaned in and peppered kisses on your lips then down your jaw to your neck. He marred the skin with his bruises until he found the spot he had decided on earlier. “Mine, my mate.”

He licked at the spot. His fangs grew from their socket as he felt you squeezing his cock. With his other hand, he brought it down to your clit. “Come for me. Come on my cock.” As commanded the string holding you tight snapped and you constricted his cock as you convulsed. He leaned down and extend his jaw as he clamped around your shoulder. His fangs sunk in easily into your soft flesh until he reached his gums. Blood trickled from the bite down your clavicle onto your cleavage. The blinding pain radiated out for a moment until it catapulted your pleasure further and your body was drowning in euphoria.

He shoved his cock all the way inside you as your entrance stretched around the knot. A wail escaped your throat as you cried out at the pain that returned. When he was satisfied with his mark he pulled his teeth out and licked up the blood. He murmured praised into you attempting to soothe you. "It's going to be okay, relax baby, relax."

You groaned as all his cock finally set in you. He was still frantically thrusting shallowly in you and you were wiggling from oversensitivity. You thought it was near over until you felt him expanding within you. “Tae, wha-it-it hurts.”

He pushed your legs together as he leaned down over you moaning. “Shhh—ahhhghhhhhhh—ugh, H-hold on, Baby."

His heavy cock was halted in its rutting as the expansion stopped him from moving any further. He whined at your tight cunt clenched around him. Panic filled your system, what was going on? You wanted to push him off but he caged you in his embrace. He whispered in your ears, “Hold on, ugh-ah-just hold on.” Tears escaped the edge of your eye just when you thought the expanding couldn’t go anymore it stopped. A molten heat shot into you as you shivered. He kept cumming, filling you with his heat painting your walls with his semen. He was still painfully hard as he gasped and moaned.

Goddess, you felt like you were going to rip. You called out his name cupping his cheek. His lips found yours, “You can handle it, I know you can.”

You shook your head you weren’t sure you were able to. He leaned down and licked at the mark and murmured against it, “You can.” You winced as your shoulder was sore. He licked over the wound tending to it. You hissed at the first lick but slowly it felt soothing. He purred as he pulled you close to him. “My mate.”

It all stopped, he had filled you with all he could. His cock plugged you up and held all his cum inside you. It was quiet between you both as you both spent moments bonding. You relished in the feeling of his body above you. The pain simmered to a hum leaving you aware of your protruding pelvis. Although when you tried squirming away he pinned your hips down, “Stay.”

He leaned his forehead against yours, “I love you.”

You returned the expression with a dumb smile plastered on your face, “I love you too.”

He flopped onto his side holding you tight to him with his cock still inside you as you buried your head in his chest despite the heat between you both. He gazed out the window at the moon that was high in the sky. He smiled then leaned down and pecked your forehead. He was grateful to the Moon.

You were supposed to be a misfortune, but he's never felt more fortunate in his life. This was where he was supposed to be, where you were supposed to be.

Right here with him, his fortune.

Copyright 2019 © by magicalsalamander. All rights reserved.

[chews-erotically]

Waxing Gibbous 

Pairing: Ezra + femNurse! Reader

Rating: Hard M / 18+ ONLY

       * Warnings: ANGST/ mentions of depression/ perceived death/ claustrophobia/ graphic descriptions of injury/ gore/ live burial/ nightmares/ guilt/ fear/ paralysis/ pain/ despair

      * Summary: You can only keep it down so long.

      * Word Count: ~900

*Part ONE* *Part TWO* *Part THREE* *Part FOUR* *Part FIVE* *Part SIX*        *Part SEVEN*  *Part EIGHT*  *Part NINE*  *Part TEN*  *Part ELEVEN*

    This chapter contains some content that some may find triggering- please see the warnings above. I deal with my feelings through writing as a way to acknowledge and process what I’m feeling. It is therapeutic for me. That said, PLEASE do not read this chapter if you feel down and find that reading about the topics above may make you feel worse. I promise the story still makes sense if you sit this one out.

    I wrote this because I needed to be selfish and work through some dark thoughts. It is absolutely and completely self-indulgent and I hesitated to even post it. I recognize that these are dark times for so many of us, please know that I love and cherish every single one of you and I will ALWAYS welcome discourse with anyone who needs encouragement, commiseration, or a sympathetic ear.

PART TWELVE

     You had your first nightmare the night following the incident at the bar. You were unsure if the actual confrontation had triggered you, or if it was simply the proverbial last straw among the amalgam of stress and circumstance, but you’d awoken screaming and slicked with sweat.

    In your dream you were dead. Your limbs were frozen and stiff. Your eyes did not open. Though you had expired, you were still able to hear what was said around you as if underwater. You were still within your own body, muffled and broken. The voices around you spoke of how you died. You had fallen from a great height, you could feel the sickly pull of gravity winding its fist into your guts as you hurtled toward the ground. You felt everything, the snap of your limbs shattering like glass. Shards of bone lanced your organs, your sight sparked and pulsed as your retinas detached before your vision turned red and then black. Your throat choked with blood. You were panicking. You could not move, you could not scream. Your pain was transcendental in it’s exquisite clarity.

    You willed yourself to lose consciousness. You prayed for your end as the agony of countless fathoms of searing stilettos cut into you and pulled their pound of flesh gleefully from your broken body.

    This is what was due for you. This is what you deserved for killing, for hurting.

    You gasped in your misery in place of your breath. You leaned into the pain, wanted it. You would suffer. You were unsure if there were tears sliding down your face. You felt wet all around. Tears or blood, leaking out of you in equal measure.

    You felt your world tilting and sliding. Movement. Every sensation re-breaking you, reminding you to pay attention. You were not going anywhere, you would bear witness to your slow and torturous end, you would learn that this was your world, at the mercy of countless faceless masters filled with infinite patience.

    You were placed in a box. That box was sealed. You heard the muffled pounding of nails into splintering wood. There was no way to save you.

    Clods of earth rained upon the box. You lie impassive, frozen. Resigned and terrified.

    Thwump.

    Every action you had taken part in, every injury and injustice and I’ll-gotten reward outweighed any halfhearted effort of goodwill you’d extended during your short and brutal life.

    Pathetic.

    Thwump.

    Worthless.

    Thwump.

    You were dead, and you had not ascended to some alternate universe, some abstract heavenly reward. In a box, in a broken body you felt every agonal sensation, your eyes unseeing and unblinking. Your brain screaming, pleading from some distant, flawed and human place to release you. You felt the cold, robotic legs of countless pale and sightless insects. They were crawling into your pants. Into your hair. Your mouth. Scrabbling against your grey gums and your powdery tongue.

    You felt the first searching pinches of mandibles against your cool and tender flesh.

 ****

     You were screaming, your voice raw. Keening. You couldn’t see. Your limbs thrashed against bindings that held you, horizontal and utterly helpless as your hoarse voice dissolved into rasping sobs. Your brain was slow to register your actions as your desperation and terror made you feel as if your heart was going to crack through your sternum with the force of its hammering. 

    But it shouldn’t be beating.

    You were dead and in a box in the ground, paralyzed and in agony and covered in gnawing insects.

    Strong arms grasped you, holding you still. You struggled against the hold violently. You kicked out against something, anything.

    The arms wrapped around you tightly. Mouth against your neck, speaking lowly.

    “I’m right here. Wake up, love. I’ve got you, I’ve got you.”

    The voice, disembodied in the darkness, continued to reassure and sooth patiently as your hitching breaths and sobs gradually abated.

    Ezra had you, and he stroked your back, your hair, your forehead, your arms as he murmured.

    “It seems that your mind has finally caught up with our sordid histories and nefarious goings-on, my sweet love. My own terrified cries have been known to propel me from restless slumber in the oppressive darkness of night.”

    You slumped against him, wrung out, exhausted. You slowly came to realize that you had not been able to move your limbs fully because they had tangled in the sheets as you’d thrashed. You had screamed so long and loud that your voice croaked when you could finally speak.

    “I have never dreamt like that Ezra. I was dead, but I was trapped in my body. I was dead, but I could feel everything. They put me in a box and buried me. It felt real.”

    “The horrors we’ve faced, the things we’ve done, will manifest in any number of nefarious ways, Dove. It is but a product of our shared experience.”

    You stood up on shaking legs and began to turn on every light in the room. You came back to the bed and cocooned yourself in as many blankets as you could find. Ezra drew you to him, leaning your back against his chest as you sat on the mattress between his legs. He notched his chin onto your shoulder and sighed. He stayed silent, waiting for you to speak or not speak.

    You did not speak.

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