#denied a massive fleet

[zestylimone]

Ok hear me out….he’s kinda serving hot girl energy here

[starrierknight]

𝟎𝟐𝟕. 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝❟ 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲 𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡

You don’t work or play by the rules. So what if that’s unfair? This is a dog-eat-dog world, and the losers get left behind.

MASTERLIST | KINKTOBER 23' | AO3

wc— 4.4k

Pairing— femme fatale!dom!gn!reader x CEO!sub!nanami

cws/tags— dub-con, blackmail (non-consensual filming), sadistic & manipulative reader, reader is gn but has the femme fatale personality, handjob, denied orgasm, very dialogue heavy, petnames (“mister”—it’s ironic, I swear), seduction, porn w/ plot, nanami is def ooc but we move

Stepping into Nanami Kento’s office, you were greeted by an aura of opulence. Mahogany desks and leather chairs exude sophistication. Sunlight filtered through expansive windows, casting a warm glow on plush carpets. A massive desk stood at the centre, impeccably organised with high-tech gadgets. Bookshelves held volumes on leadership and success. A cosy seating area boasted a plush sofa for informal discussions. Crystal decanters held aged spirits atop a sideboard. The atmosphere is both commanding and comfortable, a reflection of power and accomplishment, much like the CEO himself.

“You're late,” Nanami said, his voice monotone. 

His words slid out with the click-clack of his keyboard, his gaze fixed on the screen as he typed away. You stepped into the room, the gentle swish of your clothing brushing the air as you approached.

“I'm not late,” you responded, your voice a composed counterpoint to his. “You’re just early.”

The subtle rustle of paper on the desk danced beneath the weight of your words. A faint huff of a sigh escaped him, a sound as controlled as his meticulously timed schedule. Disciplined. Unflappable. A smile ghosted across Nanami's lips, the corner of his mouth twitching upward.

“You're my personal assistant,” he murmured, his voice carrying the weight of authority, “and I'm the CEO, ergo, I am always on time.”

"My, my," you remarked playfully, "Looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed today."

You glided across the expanse of the office, the soft rustle of your steps harmonizing with the gentle fluttering of a neatly organised stack of colour-coded papers as you set them down in a tray. A wry smile tugged at his lips.

"You're well aware that my patience for idle chatter is limited, and yet you persist in indulging in it," his voice rippled, a controlled undertone of exasperation tracing each syllable.

A subtle sigh slipped from your lips, and you found yourself easing against the edge of his desk, a connection between you and the polished surface. His fingers danced across the keyboard, a symphony of clicks and clacks that held his full attention, leaving you in the periphery.

"Any luck in your pursuit of the elusive mole?" Your words held a touch of frustration, "It's as if the leaks are gaining a life of their own, more persistent with each passing day."

In response, Nanami emitted a contemplative hum, a low note that resonated like distant thunder. "No luck so far," he mused, his voice a steady rhythm. "I’m having the matter investigated."

“You keep saying that, but nothing’s changed. You’re no closer to finding them, are you?” you spoke with a hint of weariness.

"That's classified information," he responded absentmindedly, his attention still tethered to the computer.

A wisp of frustration danced through your tone, like a fleeting shadow cast by a cloud passing over the sun. “I’m your personal assistant. I work for this company. Don’t you think I should know?” 

"No," his response fell with the weight of finality, a single syllable that seemed to close the door on any further discussion. “Oh, and please rearrange my appointments and schedule them to be spread out over next week. Make sure they’re at quieter times,” Nanami's voice rolled out, a desert breeze carrying his words with a touch of dryness. 

His instructions hung in the air, like a solitary tumbleweed drifting through the vast expanse of conversation. Tense. Stiff.

“Right. Of course, I’ll handle that,” you said with a tight smile.

✦•···················•✦•···················•✦

As you stepped into Nanami's office once again, the day's familiarity seemed to have taken a toll on him. The air felt different, thick with a weariness that hung around him like a heavy shroud. Unlike his usual poised stance, he now slouched in his chair—an uncommon sight that hinted at the cracks beneath his composed exterior. His blazer lay discarded, and his tie now hung in a relaxed loop, an admission of defeat.

"Hey, mister?" your voice was a gentle note, carrying with it a touch of casual familiarity.

A low, almost exasperated groan rumbled from his throat. "I've reminded you before not to address me like that," he muttered, his response laced with a note of resigned annoyance.

Your lips curved into a playful smile as you ventured further into the office, a glimmer of mischief dancing in your eyes. "You know, deep down, you don't mind it."

A heavy sigh accompanied his response, a mixture of exasperation and resignation. "I assure you, I do indeed mind it."

Your retort danced through the air like, a sing-song lilt that brushed against his ears. "Oh, but I beg to differ. It's just one of those little things that make our interactions all the more interesting, mister."

A grumbled complaint slipped from his lips, a muttered protest that bore the weight of his vexation. Your soft laughter swirled in response, a ripple of amusement. Despite his discontent, there was a subtle warmth in the air, a familiarity that seemed to soften the edges of his irritation.

Taking purposeful steps, you approached his desk with an air of ease, your movements a graceful choreography as you began to tidy the scattered papers, pens, and stationery that lay strewn across its surface. You leaned your phone against a stack of folders, propping it up. The soft clinks and rustles of objects finding their proper places formed a familiar symphony of order being restored.

Seated now on the edge of his desk, your presence became the focal point of the room as you regarded him with a tilt of your head. Your gaze held a mixture of intrigue and amusement, a silent reminder that amidst the rigors of his role, a moment of reprieve was found in your interactions.

“You’re looking a little worse for wear. Is something the matter?”

Nanami’s response was a heavy exhalation that held a burden of weariness too profound to be carried by mere words.

"Another breach occurred not long ago," his words carried the weight of a confession, spoken with a tinge of resignation. His eyes remained closed, a refuge from the world's chaos that seemed to press upon him relentlessly. "This time, it's worse. The most sensitive data yet has been exposed to the public. PR is grappling with the fallout, and Finance is in utter disarray."

"And so soon after the last one," you murmured, the words gentle. “You look tired, mister. Have you been taking care of yourself?”

He rubbed his temples with the tips of his fingers, a gesture of both fatigue and frustration, and at last, his eyes lifted to meet your gaze. Even from a distance, the telltale shadows under his eyes were evident, testimony to the toll his responsibilities had exacted.

"Don’t call me that," his voice emerged rough and worn. Exhausted.

Undeterred, your inquiry persisted, soft yet insistent. "So, tell me—have you been caring for yourself?"

A moment of stillness hung in the air, punctuated by the weight of unspoken thoughts. Then, his reply emerged, a sentence that bore the weight of conviction. "My primary duty is to safeguard the company."

A playful glint sparked in your eyes, and your expression shifted into a mockingly stern glare. You smoothly slid off the edge of the desk, your movements fluid and graceful, as you began a deliberate saunter towards his side of the desk. With each step, a subtle sway graced your hips, a movement that was both confident and teasing in nature. The air seemed to carry a touch of lightheartedness, a momentary diversion from the weight of the situation at hand.

A theatrical tsk escaped your lips, carrying with it a sense of exaggerated disappointment to playfully scold him. "Oh dear, dear mister. Letting yourself go to ruins is simply unacceptable. As your ever-watchful PA, I can't stand by and let you suffer."

With purposeful steps, you rounded the desk, your movements fluid and deliberate. The air seemed to hold a hint of anticipation, a quiet thrill woven into the atmosphere.

As you stood behind his chair, your hands found their way to his shoulders, their presence an assertion of care. Your touch was confident, fingers dancing with practiced skill as they worked to knead away the knots of tension that had taken residence in his muscles. He stiffened beneath your touch, a reflexive reaction to the unfamiliar sensation, yet your assurance seemed to melt the resistance away. While surprise lingered in the air, there was also a sense of yielding, a quiet acceptance of the relief you offered.

Nanami's words carried a note of reluctance, a protest against the unexpected intrusion of your care. "I didn't ask for this," his voice murmured, a touch of reservation threading through his words.

A knowing smile curved your lips, your fingers working with practiced ease as you continued to knead away the knots in his shoulders. "You didn't need to ask," you replied smoothly, your tone carrying a touch of reassurance that seemed to seep into the very air around you.

A brief silence settled between you, punctuated by the rhythm of your touch. Then his voice emerged once more, a murmur tinged with both realization and resignation. "You're my PA."

"And what does PA stand for?"

His reply held a touch of understanding, a recognition that seemed to settle the matter. "Personal assistant."

"Exactly," you whispered, “I’m your personal assistant.”

You let the silence hang in the air. Your hands continued their gentle ministrations, the cotton fabric of his shirt crinkling beneath your fingertips. As your fingers traversed the landscape of his shoulders, they encountered the subtle contours and defined edges of a physique sculpted by discipline.

Time seemed to melt, a river that flowed at its own unhurried pace. Slowly, the tension in him began to yield, a reluctant surrender that mirrored the reluctant acceptance in his posture. The weight of his responsibilities seemed to wane, at least momentarily, under the soothing spell of your touch.

A soft chuckle escaped your lips, a melodic note that floated through the air as your hands continued their soothing dance. 

"You really ought to take better care of yourself, mister," your words held a touch of playful admonishment, a reminder woven with concern. "Your muscles are like a stone wall."

The response that came was curt, his voice carrying a note of irritation as he pushed back against your insistence. "I'm fine, and I've asked you not to address me that way."

"How many nights have you found yourself working overtime again?" Your question hung in the air like a gentle nudge, an invitation for him to acknowledge the reality of his situation.

A pause, and then his voice emerged, a touch gruff yet revealing of the underlying truth. "It doesn't matter."

A note of knowing crept into your voice, “Doesn’t matter? You hate working overtime.”

"I'm the CEO, and I must prioritize what's in the best interest of the company, regardless of the personal cost."

A contemplative hum escaped your lips as your skilled fingers traveled to his neck, where tension seemed to have found another stronghold. His reaction was a mixture of curiosity and apprehension, his gaze meeting yours with a furrowed brow and a hesitant parting of his lips that hinted at a forthcoming objection, yet it remained unspoken.

The soothing pressure of your fingers worked its magic, coaxing the knots to unravel beneath your touch. As you continued your massage, a question emerged from your lips, gentle yet probing. "So, if you don't take care of yourself, then who takes care of you?"

Nanami’s response held an air of stubborn independence, a declaration of self-sufficiency against the encroachment of care. "I'm an adult. I don't need anyone to look after me."

Your voice dipped to a murmur, a whisper that seemed to bridge the gap between you and him, and your warm breath brushed across the nape of his neck. "Who takes care of you?" you repeated, your words a gentle caress against his skin.

His response, however, was unwavering, a declaration that seemed to echo with an unyielding determination. "I take care of myself.”

A playful smirk curved your lips as your fingers wove through the strands of his sleek, blond hair, a gesture that seemed to stir a reaction deep within him. His breath caught in his throat, a shuddering exhale that betrayed the impact of your touch.

“Some things are better done by yourself… some things.”

You leaned in closer, your presence enveloping him as the back of Nanami’s head nestled against your chest. The warmth of your body radiated against his back as your skilled fingers continued their massage, now tracing delicate patterns across his scalp. Your nails grazed along the tender areas, setting off a cascade of sensations that seemed to quicken his breath. 

The combination of your sinuous touch and the implications woven into your words created a heady tension in the room. His heart responded with an erratic beat, a rhythm that threatened to betray the carefully impassive expression he wore. Yet, he remained composed, a façade of control in the face of the enticing distraction you presented.

“Is it hard?”

His breath hitched, and he coughed. “P-Pardon?”

You let out a soft, knowing laugh. Leaning closer, your lips brushed the delicate shell of his ear, your words a sultry whisper that set his skin ablaze. “Being CEO. Is it hard, Kento?” you murmured, uttering his name with a familiarity that had been absent for far too long.

It was as if a barrier had crumbled, a threshold crossed, and the effect was electrifying. The weight of his name on your lips seemed to hang in the air like a revelation. After a year of playful nicknames—of godforbidden “mister”—and dances around formality, this simple act held a weight of significance. Oh, his name had never sounded so sweet in his entire life.

With an effortful composure, he replied, his voice carrying a veneer of forced calmness. "It's perfectly within my control."

The sound of your voice, the proximity of your breath, seemed to amplify the tension in the room. He closed his eyes, as if seeking refuge from the turmoil that swirled within him, struggling to steady his breathing.

But your words, like a siren's song, continued their subtle seduction. "Stressed, Kento?" you purred, the name a velvet caress against his ear.

As your hands slid down, tracing the contours of his neck and finding their way to the concealed muscles beneath his shirt, his heart quickened its rhythm. A smile, hidden from his view, danced upon your lips, a sign of the satisfaction you derived from the effect you had on him. You pressed a kiss upon the sensitive skin just below one of his earlobes, a gesture that sent a shiver through him. The tension in the room seemed to thicken, the air electrified by an unspoken desire.

“Don’t do this,” he whispered.

“You want me to,” you murmured back, “And you want it badly.”

Your hands continued their exploratory journey, tracing a path of tantalizing sensation down his chest, each touch leaving a trail of heat in its wake. They ventured lower, gliding over the firm expanse of his abdomen, mapping the contours of his physique. 

As your fingers descended further, they encountered the defined muscles of his thighs, your touch igniting a web of sensations that seemed to pulse through his body. He remained still, his breathing now increasing, his body responding to the magnetic allure of your touch. The room pulsed with a charged energy, begging to be acknowledged.

His hands closed around your wrists, putting a halt to the tantalizing journey of your hands, but they didn't push you away. The tension in the room hung thick, a precarious balance between restraint and desire.

"This is a workplace," Kento protested, his voice carrying a note of caution.

A playful spark danced in your eyes as you retorted, your words dripping with a seductive undertone. "Who says this won’t be for work?"

With a tantalizing grace, you lowered your head and pressed your lips to his neck once more, trailing kisses along the warm, sensitive skin. Your tongue and teeth teased over the surface, each movement a deliberate exploration that sent a shiver of longing through him.

“Oh, c’mon. You know you want it. I can feel it—you sure as hell can. Why deny yourself the satisfaction?” you murmured into his ear.

You lightly bit his neck and he gasped, his heart skipping a beat, and his grip on your wrists faltered. You took the opportunity to slide your hands to his thighs again, caressing the inner and most sensitive parts. He made some noise of desire in the back of his throat, his breathing growing ragged.

A low, sultry chuckle accompanied your whispered words, the sound a velvet invitation that seemed to stir the air around you. 

"Don't be coy," you murmured into his ear, your voice a honey-like whisper that washed over him. "You want this as much as I do, Kento. I can feel it, and so can you. Why deny yourself the satisfaction?"

Your teeth grazed his neck lightly, a tantalizing nip that sent a shiver coursing through him. His grip on your wrists faltered, and you seized the opportunity, your hands slipping back to the sensitive terrain of his thighs. Your touch was delicate yet insistent, caressing the innermost and most sensitive parts. A guttural sound of desire escaped him, a primal expression of longing that mingled with his ragged breathing. The office walls seemed to close in around you, as if the world outside had ceased to exist, and it was just you and Kento’s desire.

A low, tormented groan escaped him as his eyes fell shut, his internal struggle evident in the furrow of his brow. “This is so wrong.”

Your voice was a velvet caress as you posed your question, a tempting proposition that seemed to hang in the air like a forbidden fruit. "Is pleasure so wrong, Kento?" you purred, "Don't you deserve this?"

Desire ignited like a blazing fire, consuming every trace of resistance that had remained. As your dominant hand found its way to the growing bulge concealed by the fabric of his trousers, he couldn't help but release a breathy groan. His hips, almost imperceptibly, moved in response, a subconscious plea for more. Desire coursed white-hot through him, pooling between his thighs.

His hoarse mumble was a plea, a desperate attempt to reassert control in the face of mounting desire. "You should stop," he rasped, his voice trembling with a mixture of longing and restraint.

Your laughter, low and seductive, rippled through the air, brushing against his ear and sending shivers cascading down his spine. 

"You don't want me to stop," you countered, your words a teasing assertion that seemed to strip away the last shreds of his resistance.

Kento's hands gripped the armrests of his chair with a desperate intensity, his knuckles whitening as he fought to maintain his grasp on composure in the face of overwhelming temptation.

Your words were a siren's call, a sultry enticement that seemed to draw him deeper into the vortex of desire. "C'mon now," you coaxed, your voice a velvet temptation, "You want me to touch you, to make a mess of you, to take care of you like no one else ever has."

With a confident touch, you rubbed the growing bulge between his thighs more firmly, causing his breath to hitch and a shuddering groan to escape his lips.

His voice emerged, a whisper of uncertainty and longing. "Y-You'll take care of me?"

You met his vulnerability with a promise that dripped with seductive allure. "Yes," you affirmed, your words a whispered caress, "Like no one else ever has."

Or will… You smirked.

As you unzipped the fly of his trousers and began to tug them down his strong thighs, Kento obediently lifted his hips to assist you in the tantalizing descent. The anticipation in the room was palpable, the air thick with desire.

The hard, throbbing length beneath the thin fabric of his boxers was damp along a certain path, evidence of his heightened arousal. Your finger pressed against the dampness, and Kento hissed sharply through his teeth. It was as if a current of electricity shot through every nerve in his body, pooling at the base of his spine, aching need pulsating within his throbbing cock.

With a tantalizingly deliberate movement, you pushed his boxers away, unveiling the long, aching length of his erection as it sprung free from its confinements. His breath caught in his throat at the sudden sensation of freedom and your touch.

One of your hands ventured down his body, seeking the source of his arousal, and you began to stroke him with a measured pace that balanced comfort and intensity. A deep, throaty moan escaped him, and he couldn't help but push his hips forward ever so slightly, a silent plea for more, tempered by the fear that you might pull away if he was too insistent.

His eyes remained shut, his body leaning into you as if seeking the reassuring pressure of your chest against his back. Every stroke of your hand sent waves of pleasure rippling through him, building an exquisite tension that threatened to tip him over the edge.

Your words dripped with wicked allure, a sultry taunt that sent shivers of desire racing through him. "You can't even deny how badly you need this," you cooed, a wicked smirk gracing your lips, your voice a seductive melody.

“Please…”

A guttural plea escaped him, his voice strained with longing as he groaned, his brow furrowing in desperation. Beads of perspiration formed on his skin, glistening in the office light.

Your touch was a maddening tease, the soft pad of your thumb tantalizingly swiping across the aching head of his cock. It was a taste of what you could do, a whisper of the pleasure you could elicit, the gentle pressure of your fingers a torment that electrified his sensitive length.

Kento's breathing grew more ragged, his body quivering with anticipation and desire. Every stroke of your thumb sent jolts of pleasure coursing through him, a tantalizing promise of the ecstasy that lay just beyond reach.

His hips bucked urgently into your hand, a desperate quest for the all-consuming release that eluded him. A guttural moan erupted from his lips, echoing through the room, and you silenced it with your free hand, your fingers pressed against his lips. In his ear, you whispered teasing, shushing sounds, a sensuous torment that only served to stoke the flames of his desire.

The tension in the room was palpable, a relentless crescendo of longing that seemed to spiral upward with each passing moment. His body quivered with anticipation, his heart raced, and he could feel the precipice of his orgasm looming ever closer.

"You know," you breathed, "I've waited a long time for this moment."

As if to emphasize your words, you slowed the pace of your hand, your touch a slow, torturous caress that seemed to drive him to the brink. He groaned in response, his head hanging low, his hips stubbornly seeking the pleasure that danced just beyond his reach. The room seemed to hum with desire. 

In the throes of ecstasy, just as the climax threatened to wash over him, you removed your hand with cruel precision, a disdainful gesture as you wiped it casually on the shoulder of his expensive shirt. Kento all but cried out at the sudden loss of sensation, his whole body shuddering in response.

He groaned in frustration, his eyes filled with pleading confusion as he looked at you, the desperate desire still flickering in their depths. The room seemed to hang in a suspended moment, a tableau of torment and longing that left him on the brink of fulfillment, yet denied the release he so craved.

Your laughter, low and sardonic, filled the room, a taunting echo that seemed to reverberate in the air. With a saunter, you circled around his chair, moving to his desk and retrieving your phone, which had been propped up against a stack of folders. The video on the screen was ended, freezing the moment of his desperate longing.

"Quite the performance, Kento," you taunted, your words a playful mockery that laced with satisfaction. 

The boundaries of the office had been breached, and the power dynamics had shifted in a way that left no room for doubt—you openly held the upper hand.

With a bold flourish, you lifted your phone high, turning the volume up to ensure every nuance of the recorded encounter could be heard. You skipped through selected sections of the video, each moment meticulously chosen to capture the essence of the temptation and desire that had unfolded within the confines of the office.

As the video played, the room seemed to resonate with the sounds of his seduction, his pleas, his moans—each intimate detail laid bare for him to witness. There was no avoiding it; the evidence was undeniable, and it hung in the air. 

His chest rose and fell with the turmoil of emotions, and a betrayed expression contorted his typically composed features. The question escaped his lips like a lament, a whispered plea for understanding: “Why?”

Your posture exuded an air of casual indifference as you leaned against his desk, a playful tilt to your head that underscored your enjoyment of his discomfort. His question seemed to hang in the air, unanswered, as you chose to focus on the task at hand.

"So, Kento," you murmured, your tone a seductive tease, "What should I leak next: more of the company's closely guarded data, or this scorching little video?" 

A mixture of disbelief and regret tainted his muttered words. "How... H-How could you?"

Your laughter was a sharp retort, a mocking response to his question. "How could I? Oh, Kento, you're so fucking naїve."

His gulp was audible, his voice barely above a whisper as he ventured, "How much is it you want, exactly? What's your price?"

A sly grin curled upon your lips as you leaned closer, your words dripping with seductive allure. "I want everything you can give me."

a/n: he (effectively) lost his job by getting a handjob LOL. poor guy. jokes, idc, this was written out of spite. Happy Kinktober :3

this work belongs to STARRIERKNIGHT . please refrain from plagiarising any of my works and do not repost/translate/modify/copy onto any platforms.

[scriberye]

Vows (2/?)

────────────────────────────── ROGAL DORN x F!READER ⚠️ Romance, Cheating/Infidelity, Loveless Marriage You've come to terms with your lot in life, trapped and isolated in a loveless marriage for political gain. Until one faithful evening when you meet Rogal Dorn and a romance blooms that you must both keep secret. a/n: Half way through I realized my version of Dorn is extremely touch-starved. chp 01

“Another letter, my lady,” the maid announces, her curiosity barely concealed. She hands you the letter bearing the seal of the Imperial Fists.

It’s hard to mask your eagerness to read the letter. Ever since that fateful night at the banquet, Dorn has faithfully written you letter after letter. To prying eyes, the letters are mundane, typical letters between friends, conveying nothing of importance. But you caught on there were more, another message hidden between the lines. You nod to the maid, dismissing her.

The moment you’re alone, you crack the seal and read the letter. As expected, it’s an innocent request for your aid on a project. But you scrutinize it, decoding the hidden message within:

Come to me. I miss you.

You clutch the letter to your chest with a heavy, lovesick sigh. Through these secret letters, you’ve fallen hopelessly in love with him. And who are you to deny the summons of a Primarch?

Carefully, you fold the letter and place it with the others in a hidden drawer of your desk. You tidy up your appearance and take the moment to collect yourself before hurrying to the palace, your heart aflutter with longing.

When you arrive, Sigismund is there. Even with his face hidden by his helm, you recognize him by markings of his armor. He is as imposing and disciplined in his stance as his gene-father, and you can feel his gaze on you, assessing and measuring your worth.

He’s been waiting for you.

Sigismund greets you with a curt nod, foregoing any pleasantries and greetings. You fall into step beside him as he guides you through the corridors of the palace, past grand statues and ancient relics.

At last, he stops in front of a door, turning to face you. “The Primarch is within,” he says.

You nod, your heart fluttering with excitement to see Dorn again. Sigismund opens the door and waves you inside. It closes behind you with a thud as you enter Dorn’s office. You had expected a mess, yet it is anything but. It’s meticulously organized, with everything in its rightful place.

But it’s Rogal Dorn’s towering presence that draws your eye. He traded his radiant, golden armor for more humble, and comfortable attire, suitable for someone who spends hours sitting and designing. He turns to face you, one fist held in the other hand. It’s only a moment, but you think you catch sight of a fleeting smile, but it’s gone as soon as it appeared.

“My lord,” you say, bowing respectfully. “It is an honor. How may I assist you?”

Dorn gestures you closer. “As mentioned in the letter, I require your assistance in refining these defenses.”

You nod and move closer, joining Dorn by his desk. But you pause. There’s no mortal sized chair for you. Everything in his office is built to his scale — grand and massive, and far too large for you.

Dorn notices your hesitation. “Apologies,” he says. “I hope you do not mind.”

Before you can grasp his meaning, his large hands encircle your waist. You gasp and instinctively clutch his hands as he lifts you effortlessly, setting you down on the edge of the desk. Heat floods your face, and you fidget with your gown, smoothing out non-existent wrinkles, trying to steady your wildly beating heart.

“Is this acceptable?” Dorn asks, taking his seat with grace and composure.

“Y-yes, my lord. Thank you.” You reply with a delicate squeak. “Where shall we begin?”

“Here,” Dorn says, leaning in close, pointing at a section of a schematic. It’s unnecessarily close. You can feel the heat radiating off him, and even the faintest hint of cologne.

The air is thick with an unspoken understanding. It’s a charade. These discussions of defense and strategy are an excuse to spend time together away from prying eyes. And you play along, offering your thoughts and observations, which he seems to consider in kind.

The tension only grows. Dorn continues to lean close to you, even as he reaches around you to grab something else on the desk. And once, his fingers graze your legs, lingering longer than a heartbeat. You realize that he’s doing it on purpose. Every touch, every lingering glance is calculated, but restrained. His jaw clenched tight.

Dorn’s self-restraint snaps when your hands touch, reaching for the same parchment. The moment your eyes lock with his, a rush of heat rises in your cheeks. Slowly, almost reverently, he cups your cheek.

You press your hand against his, holding it there, nuzzling into his palm. He’s so warm. The heat of his skin, and the callouses on his fingers, and the way he looks at you with such tenderness and love. The intensity of it all is enough to make your heart flutter.

“Rogal,” you breathe.

At the sound of his name, a sound escapes Dorn, akin to the wounded cry of an animal. He sweeps you up in to his arms, his lips claiming yours in a fierce kiss. A massive, powerful hand presses against your back, pulling your body flush against his chest.

You bury your hands in his hair, tugging him impossibly closer, as if you could meld together with him. He plunders your mouth with his tongue. Every stroke of his against yours is intoxicating, leaving you delirious and wanting more. His kiss grows more frantic, more insistent, as his own wants spur him on.

Breathless, you break away with a gasp, your lungs burning with the need for oxygen. Dorn’s lips continue their assault, burning a trail down your throat and over your collarbone.

You sigh longingly, pressing a kiss upon the rise of his cheek, guiding his lips back to yours. This time, his kiss is tempered, his hunger for you is not as ravenous. The kiss breaks again, your lips lingering against his.

Reality crashes back around Dorn, his expression torn between what he wants and what he should do. You run your fingers through his hair, hoping to soothe the turmoil, though your heart aches knowing you’re the cause.

“I want you, but you are not mine to take,” he says in a low tone, his voice pained.

“You have my heart.” You cup his face in your hand, stroking along the firm line of his jaw. “And I gladly give you all that I am.”

“It would be cruel to free you from one husband, only to shackle you to another.”

“But this husband would be my choice,” you respond firmly.

Dorn closes his eyes for a moment, and when he opens them again, they burn with determination. “Then I will find a way,” he vows.

[godisshook]

Brotherly Love

Gavin was more than the average frat bro, it was obvious to see. Since he had joined the fraternity, he had been held in high regard by his brothers, and seen as a rising star. He was a sight to behold, and he knew it.

The sophomore was a popular figure within the Sigma Delta Rho fraternity, an adonis with a killer smile and a personality to match. He had it all, or so he thought. A single person would change all of this, and rock his world forever.

Casey.

The slender pledge had captured Gavin's attention from the moment he stepped foot into the frat house. His toned physique and boyish charm were undeniable draws, but there was something more to Casey that Gavin couldn't quite put into words.

Ever since pledging Sigma Delta Rho and moving into the frat house at the start of the semester, Casey had been infatuated with Gavin. There was just something about him that drew Casey in like a moth to a flame. He did everything he could to get his attention, from staying to clean up after fraternity events, to personally running errands for Gavin.

Months would pass, as Casey started to become his own in the fraternity, gaining the trust of his brothers, but, most importantly to him, gaining the attention of Gavin.

The two exchanged glances during frat meetings and shared brief conversations in passing, making Case. The unspoken tension hung heavy between them, both aware of the appearances they had to maintain with the fraternity. They were keenly knowledgeable of the traditional nature of their frat and knew that anything more than fleeting glances would draw suspicion.

Despite this, the two would talk in secret, forming a relationship while trying to keep their romance hidden. It was torture for Casey, as his need for Gavin would consume him entirely. Their romance bloomed slowly but blossomed nevertheless, and Casey would soon get his wish, as the frat was set to have a massive party in the spring.

The night of the party, Gavin and Casey found themselves alone in Gavin's room. The faint smell of alcohol still lingered in the air as they sat on Gavin's bed, lost in each other's gaze. The two had caught each other's gaze all night, and this had been their moment, their escape from the noise. The tension between them was palpable, and neither one could deny the sparks flying between them anymore.

As Casey leaned closer to Gavin, his heart pounded wildly in his chest, Casey couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by his emotions. He wanted nothing more than to feel Gavin's lips against his own, but he knew that this moment could change everything for them both.

Taking the initiative, Gavin gently cupped Casey's face with his hands and pressed their lips together in a passionate kiss. It started slow at first, with gentle brushes of their lips against each other's, but soon became far more intense as they explored each other's mouths with eager tongues.

In a drunken haze, the two intensified the moment, with the heat of the moment silencing the booming party outside. As clothes began to line the floor, Gavin's lips slowly brushed Casey's chest, creating more sparks as his hot breath caressed his sensitive skin.

Gavin continued to kiss along the contours of Casey's body, moving downwards at a slow but fiery pace, causing the heat between the two to reach a fever pitch. Gavin's muscular body heated up under Casey's touch, adding fuel to the burning fire of their passion. Before their moment could reach its expected crescendo, a knock on the door would cause things to end abruptly, forcing the two back out into the commotion.

It was a fleeting moment, but enough to leave Casey wanting more. Days came and went as he found ways to keep his mind off of Gavin. After days of monotony and stolen glances, a simple text would be Casey's saving grace, "Come to my room tomorrow at 4, don't keep me waiting." Still in class, Casey fought a smile, but as soon as he left, he darted back to the house, a smile growing from ear to ear.

Now steps away from Gavin's room, Casey could hear the familiar sound of the showers. A wicked smile came over his face as he knew exactly what to expect.

Casey took the towel lying on the bed, chuckling at the fact that it wouldn't be staying on if things went well. Despite a tinge of fear, the air was thick in the bathroom, as anticipation mingled with need. Casey looked at the form in the shower, and asked, "Gavin, is that you?" With his familiar low voice, Gavin replied, "Of course, get in."

Casey initially shivered as he entered the shower; allowing the cold water to wash over him, as Gavin quickly consumed him with his body, warming him up instantly. Within this embrace, Casey felt the unmistakable bulge of Gavin's cock pressing against his.

Gavin took a tuft of Casey's hair in his hand and began thrusting against his head; his body betraying him as he thrust into Casey's mouth. Casey choked slightly, but he didn't let go, his hands grasping Gavin's thighs, pulling his cock deeper into his mouth.

In between thrusts, Gavin would turn up the temperature in the shower, causing steam to build up, and for heat to swell up inside both of them. The shower became even hotter as Casey got lower and lower, laying soft but burning kisses all over Gavin's muscled body. Casey's mouth surrounded Gavin's cock completely, and Gavin threw his head back as Casey began sucking.

Deliberate in his movements, Casey teasingly sucked Gavin off, as he slowly worked his way around Gavin's cock. Unable to handle the tension anymore, Gavin took control, taking a tuft of Casey's hair in his hand and thrusting it against his cock. Gavin's body betrayed him as he gave in to his desires, thrusting faster and faster. Casey choked slightly, but he didn't let go, his hands grasping Gavin's thighs, pulling his cock deeper into his mouth. Before he could cum, Gavin raised Casey back up, and told him, "We're going to the bed." Surprised, Casey looked up into his eyes, as he was suddenly lifted by Gavin into the air, and out of the shower.

The two dried off, and Casey changed into a fresh pair of underwear. Ensuring the door was locked, Gavin said, "You're not gonna need that underwear for long, just saying." Casey smartly replied, "You know people will hear us if we do anything out here?" As if anticipating his question, Gavin turned up the TV, with the jumble of voices drowning out Casey's protests. Closing the distance with a smirk, Gavin grabbed Casey by the hips, pulling him into a deep kiss. Their tongues intertwined as the two were free to give in to their inhibitions fully dry.

Gavin pushed Casey back onto his bed, their bodies sinking into the soft mattress. He kissed his way down Casey's chest, pausing to tease his nipples and elicit soft moans of pleasure.

Lower and lower he went, trailing kisses along Casey's taut stomach and tracing circles with his tongue around his belly button. He could feel the anticipation building within Casey as he neared his ultimate destination - that throbbing cock that was calling out to him.

Gavin reached over to his nightstand and fumbled around for a moment before finding what he was looking for; a bottle of lube left over from one of his previous conquests. Noticing this, Casey remarked sarcastically, "Of course I'm not your first." Gavin laughed, saying, "If it makes it any better, you’re my first guy.” Noticing Casey’s surprise, Gavin asked, "Wait, am I your first…anything?" Casey's nod made Gavin even more delicate, as he sought to make it count.

He uncapped the lube and poured a generous amount into his hand, warming it between his palms before reaching down to prepare Casey for what was about to come.

Gavin's hand slid between Casey's legs, his fingers teasing the sensitive skin as he prepared Gavin for what was to come. Casey moaned, his body trembling with anticipation as Gavin's fingers slid inside him, stretching and preparing him for his massive cock.

Casey gazed up at Gavin in awe. It was like watching an expert at work, with Gavin somehow knowing everywhere that turns him on. With there being no chance of interruption, the two were completely consumed by the other. They were two souls intertwined in a moment of pure bliss, and Casey never wanted it to end.

In between kisses, Casey would give in to his need, "Fuck me," he whimpered against Gavin's lips. "I want you inside me."

Gavin's heart skipped a beat as he met Casey's gaze. The request caught him off guard; he was shocked by Casey's boldness, but there was no denying the hunger burning within him. Gavin simply replied, "As you wish."

Not missing a beat, Gavin thrust inside Casey, their bodies moving in perfect harmony. He lost himself inside Casey, as his most primal urges began taking over. Gavin's mind raced, his desire for Casey threatening to consume him entirely. His cock twitched, aching for release, as Casey started jerking himself off, matching Gavin's strokes. The two continued to fuck, their bodies slick with sweat. Each thrust sent shivers down their spines, their moans mingling together in a symphony of passion and desire.

Gavin's cock twitched, aching for release. Soon, his body tensed, and he came, his cock throbbing as spray after spray of hot, white cum shot all over Casey. The two would release at the same time, and they collapsed onto one another; with Gavin's grip on Casey's hips tightening, bucking over him as he filled Casey with his seed.

Casey lifted himself off Gavin, as they both tried to catch their breaths. Their eyes met, the raw hunger still present but now tempered as the two found release. As Casey laid on him, Gavin felt a sense of ease, "I've always wanted to see you blush." Gavin said, his voice low and seductive. Casey didn't respond and simply nestled harder into Gavin's body.

"You okay?" Gavin asked, concern in his voice.

Casey nodded, swallowing hard. "Yeah, I... I loved every second of it, but it was... intense."

Gavin smirked, his strong hands ruffling Casey's sweat-slicked hair. "That's the whole point, isn't it?"

[gaytamorfosi]

What effect does this have on you?

🇬🇧 ("Che effetto ti fa?" Versione Inglese)

A frightening sense of dizziness won't let me be on this sultry August morning. A small taste of supernatural experience, it lasted a handful of minutes and it was enough. There's no turning back from something like this. That scene repeats itself incessantly before my eyes, my stomach churns and I feel like I'm lacking oxygen, like I'm on the verge of fainting. It is not a fleeting sensation, but a prolonged one, which has clouded my mind for hours while the room seems to slowly turn on itself. 

I met Dario thanks to a mutual friend. I couldn't believe that a person with fantasies so similar to mine lived near me. For years I had considered my kinks as an absolutely private and intimate thing, not thinking that I would ever find someone with my same tastes who understood me fully. When I saw Dario, I was pleasantly surprised: he was very handsome, definitely out of my league. Gathering courage, I asked him out. I don't think a bald, overweight bear like me has much of a chance with a guy with a perfect body like Dario, but considering we had several things in common, I thought it was a great opportunity and stepped forward. I was surprised when he said yes; maybe I had a small chance with him. 

Last night we went out together and had a wonderful evening. Time flew by and in an instant we found ourselves alone in my house. It was too good to be true. I asked myself if we would have sex, fearing I was rushing things too much: I didn't want to waste this precious opportunity; I really like him a lot. 

“We ended up not talking about our fantasies,” he said. “What would you do if you were faced with a person who was actually capable of changing their appearance and becoming someone else?” I had never asked myself this question. "It's a hot fantasy, but I have no idea on how I would react in reality," I replied. At that point, Dario began to undress. I remained a few meters away, surprised and embarrassed. Left with only a pair of shorts on, Dario sank into the armchair and his massive, virile body began to shrink and rejuvenate. In a few seconds he had become a guy who was about twenty years old. I had dreamed of a scene like that many times, but living it was something else entirely. I was speechless in front of that impossible scene. "Don't you like Thomas?" he asked, reading the confusion in my eyes. "He's an English TikToker, as handsome as he is useless and arrogant."

That Thomas wasn't really my type, but I couldn't deny that he was a hot guy. In any case, all that came out of my mouth was an awkward, meaningless babble, and then silence fell. I hadn't yet wrapped my mind around the transformation when Dario's appearance changed again, this time replicating mine, in every way. The only difference was that Dario was standing there wearing only his shorts and with his legs wide open. "What effect does this have on you?" he asked. Once again I didn't know how to respond: it was a scenario I had never even imagined. A sense of excitement mixed with euphoria pervaded me. I had never found myself particularly attractive, but Dario's attitude in my body made it exciting, against all odds. Even before my head could make sense of all this, my body started sending me clear signals: seeing my self-confident copy made me hard. Like a mirror, Dario began to get excited in the same way, while smiling smugly. 

I wonder what turned me on... The transformation itself? My reflection? The idea that someone could find me attractive enough to take my shape? I only know that when Dario got up from the chair and his lips touched mine, it was as if the world began to spin in reverse. From that moment on, nothing was the same as before; my heart remained in that room and Dario, by leaving, took with him every possibility of reasoning in a clear and coherent way, leaving me in this state. I never wanted to let him go again, but he promised he'd be back: "I just started rocking your world," he said before disappearing through the door.

[destinationtrekk]

vamp! wesker with vampire hunter reader and everytime reader tries killing him hes such a flirt..

reader trying to plunge a stake into him and he just shakes his head at them, discarding the little thing, commenting on how his favourite hunter should really know better.

“Oh dearheart, did you really think that would work?”

and everytime they fight, vamp! wesker is such a slut. This guy pins reader down and sneaks bites out of their neck, their neck littered with past scars and bite marks due to how frequent this bastard does it. Pressing his entire weight on you, the position itself leaving you red-faced and embarassed and honestly a little horny.

He can’t help himself though, yours in particular, your blood just tastes so divine to him. It’d be foolish to waste that by killing you, of course. Totally not because he feels anything for you, if he even can.

18+ mdni - suggestive, gn!reader

the very fist time you encountered vamp!wesker was horrifying. he's like dracula-level famous - a legend in the Arklay Mountains, a beast who eats children and locks up innocent villagers in his mansion to eat them later or turn them into his personal army.

you didn't believe any of this, of course. most vampires are cocky and frankly dumb, which is how you rose to "fame" as a talented hunter in the first place. you weren't even out hunting that night, actually just spending time alone in wilderness to clear your head. you were lucky to have brought your gear along - just in case, because now you're pinned to the ground beneath a massive figure.

you know it's a vamp immediately, the nauseating smell of blood is obvious, but you're surprised to feel warm where you're pinned in the dirt. whoever is above you is wearing a thick cloak, and you have a fleeting thought that this feels like being in bed with a lover- what the fuck?

your emotions are jumbled and rapidly cycling between fear and frustration and a bit of arousal (grappling beneath someone is sexy, you can't deny it) until the vamp pulls away just enough for you to see his striking eyes. this is Wesker. undeniably, this is Albert Wesker.

bright blue eyes covered with a sheen of some red glow make them almost purple when the moonlight isn't blinding you. he's chuckling as you struggle in his grip. you're not weak by any means, which tells you he's MUCH stronger than anything you've killed before. he's pinned your wrists together above your head and your thighs to the ground, his legs nestled neatly along your hips.

he's quite literally straddling you like a lover, laughing in your face and rubbing his nose under your jaw. he's sniffing like an eager puppy and scraping his teeth over the column of your throat - he's playing with his meal

despite all your best tricks, he only pulls away after taking a hefty chunk of skin off your left shoulder. he sits up and rises to his feet, smiling down at you while he licks his fangs clean.

"Wonderful to meet you, dear heart." His voice is just as captivating as his eyes. "You'll have to try a little harder next time, hm? I need my favorite meal to keep my on toes, after all."

you're left gaping after him while he strolls away without a care in the world. you should be chasing him, sprinting after him to stake his heart with everything you have - the one hunter who bested the Arklay Monster.

instead your jaw is dropped while you pant through the aching bite on your shoulder. as he disappears through the trees, all you can think of is to buy better hunting clothes next time.

[felassan]

Story elements, Campaign Map, and Garrus character sheet from the Mass Effect The Board Game - Priority: Hagalaz Rulebook [source]

bonus: move names of Garrus' and Wrex' that just made me happy :)

Text version of first three images under cut -

Opening blurb:

"In the year 2186, the civilizations of the galaxy are at war with a relentless, artificial enemy called the Reapers. Commander Shepard’s warnings of their arrival were all ignored, and now the Reapers have invaded the galaxy in force, crushing all resistance. Earth has fallen. Palaven, the turian homeworld, is under siege, and their military might barely holds the enemy at bay. The Reapers are pressing into the galaxy on all fronts, and it is only a matter of time before the races of Citadel Space are crushed beneath their onslaught. But there is still hope. Commander Shepard has assembled a crew of trusted allies aboard the Systems Alliance stealth frigate, the Normandy. They have the schematics for the mysterious Prothean superweapon, the Crucible, but constructing it alone will not be enough. Shepard and the Normandy crew are racing to forge alliances, build a unified front capable of defeating the Reapers before they overtake the galaxy and complete their harvest of all biological life. All the while, the insidious terrorist organisation Cerberus advances their own agenda of human supremacy at any cost, led by the mysterious Illusive Man and his army of ruthless operatives."

Note from Admiral Hackett:

"“Commander Shepard, Since you took out the Cerberus lab on Sanctum, N7 Special Forces have hit every other lab we could find. Cerberus has caught on and moved their research efforts off-world. They’ve retrofitted one of their cruisers as a mobile research facility and now keep it on the move. I’ve received reports of more abductions, like the one you stopped on Benning, and several refugee ships have unexpectedly dropped off the grid. Cerberus could be holding those abductees on that cruiser as hostages, or worse, as test subjects. Their latest hiding place was the storm above Hagalaz. Taking a page out of the Shadow Broker’s book, I suppose. We only found them because the cruiser appears to have suffered a massive systems failure and crashed on the night side of the planet. Although these nights are a lot longer than Earth’s, unfortunately it’s almost morning and daybreak will bring the most powerful storm on the other side of the Attican Traverse. The Normandy is the only Alliance ship in range. I need you to see what Cerberus was up to. Interference from the storm is degrading comms, so there’s no way Cerberus can get their research off-planet except by portable data transfer. We have recovery assets on the way, but they won’t arrive until after the storm hits and tears that ship to pieces. Shepard, your orders are: Whatever you do, keep that research data out of Cerberus’ hands. When the storm is over, I don’t want them to recover their work from the wreckage. Denying them those assets will be a major blow. Retrieve the research if possible, or destroy it if there’s no other choice. Alternatively, find a way to fortify the ship until the fleet arrives. If you find prisoners along the way, get them out of there. The storm is coming, Shepard. Get it done.” – Admiral Hackett"

Note from EDI:

"“Shepard, analysis of the crashed cruiser has isolated three primary objectives. The reactor, the research data core, and the kinetic barrier generator. You only have time to reach one of those before the storm arrives. Accessing the data core will allow us to steal Cerberus’ research, but they could salvage the ship’s wreckage after the storm has passed. Overloading the reactors will destroy the ship – and all hope of any data recovery or salvage. I am also detecting signs of the captives Admiral Hackett mentioned. By diverting power from the research core, you can boost the ship’s kinetic barriers long enough to preserve it and protect the prisoners until the Alliance arrives. However, if you do this, the data banks will be lost. The storm is only a few hours away, Shepard. I recommend moving fast. Displaying potential routes to each objective. The mission is yours.” – EDI"

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Quarantine Breach

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)

The first the wider universe heard of the plague on Hydraxsis was when traders began returning to their home systems with tales of a massive human fleet hanging in orbit above the world denying all access to the planet’s surface. Transmissions declaring a state of emergency were relayed from the human flagship and stated that the situation was well under control but for the safety of the wider star community no one was allowed to land.

Naturally concerned with this and seeking to offer aid, many civilizations dispatched medical teams and diplomats to open dialogues for relief aid to begin flowing into the system. Yet once again all they were met with were the same transmissions from the flagship that a state of emergency had been declared and travel down to the surface was strictly forbidden.

The stonewalling tactics did not sit well with several of the diplomats, nor did the numerous jamming devices the humans had deployed in orbit above the world to block any communications to and from the surface as well.

When it became known that non-humans had also been trapped on the surface below by grieving families, the governments insisted that the humans open communications and allow relief efforts to be dispatched to the planet.

There was no reply save for the same transmission played again but this time emphasizing the final part with enlarged letters.

DO NOT ATTEMPT TO REACH THE SURFACE; THIS IS YOUR ONLY WARNING.

Further enraged and now knowing that several of their own citizens were trapped on the beleaguered world alien fleets began appearing to force their passage through the blockade.

They knew humans were stubborn; it was a core aspect of their primal nature that not even evolution could weed out. Yet it boggled the minds of the aliens why the humans would risk an open conflict over one world.

It wasn’t until a Syndicate Hellbrute Dreadnought, leased to one of the grieving species for a considerable sum, appeared alongside the waiting alien armada did they feel ready to force the blockade.

The two fleets poised against each other as countless weapon bay doors rolled open to reveal their lethal contents. Countless targeting vectors were plotted while missile batteries prepared to unleash a torrent of finite death and destruction when suddenly the human fleet turned.

A lone transport shuttle came racing up from the surface.

Without a moment’s hesitation the entire human fleet opened fired on the tiny transport; completely ignoring the alien warships before them who in turned retaliated against the humans.

Terran frigates crumpled like wads of paper under concentrated fire and carriers were gutted from the inside as torment warheads detonated inside their ships through open launch bays, yet the human fleet gave no return fire to the aliens.

The tiny craft darted like a humming bird through the blizzard of weapons fire directed at it by the humans. Too small for the larger weapons to hit the craft wove its way through the terran fleet as it desperately made for the alien armada.

It had almost made it to the Hellbrute leading the alien fleet when a terran cruiser broke formation and rammed the tiny craft. Unable to avoid the massive size of the ship the transport slammed into the side of the cruiser and detonated in a fireball of destruction.

While the aliens pondered why the terran’s would so recklessly risk one of their larger ships in such a manner they were only further surprised why the same cruiser that had rammed the transport ship then detonated their own jump drives causing a small super nova to erupt between the two fleets.

A blinding shockwave of energy shot out and sent both fleets reeling in opposite directions. Colossal vessels were reduced to nothing more than logs in a rapid current as they battered against each other before finally coming to a stop several thousand kilometers away from where they had started.

The aliens began to reorganize their fleets for another battle but the humans merely returned to their blockade of the world. Only the flagship of the terran fleet remained and opened a direct communication with every alien vessel.

No words were spoken by the terran commander as he opened up a video file and played it. A grainy feed appeared to be from a street camera of some kind of a bustling city. Many assumed that it was from Hydraxsis and noted that it was dated several weeks prior when the blockade first was implemented.

The streets were full of bustling humans and aliens of every kind carrying on their day to day business when one human began convulsing rapidly while crossing the street.

Collapsing to the ground they spasmed so hard that fragments of bone could be seen breaking the skin. Worried onlookers either began backing away from the human or approaching them to try and assist them when the true horror began.

Emerging from the convulsing humans flesh came a thick swarm of tiny red insects. They moved like a stream of water and darted to those who had come forward to help the injured man. With barely enough time to let out a scream the swarm engulfed them in a red tide, dragging them to the ground as a general panic broke out.

Within moments more and more insects began pouring out of the new cadaverous tripling their numbers instantly and just as before began rushing those around them.

The feed then cut away to several days later of the same street as countless fires broke out amongst the buildings. The street was littered with battered and broken aircars while the roads themselves were paved with uncountable bones of victims.

A lone figure came sprinting down the street looking back the way they had come screaming. They made it three steps before tripping over what had been a human femur and falling to the ground as a swarm of insects filling the entire street side to side came down upon them like an onrushing river. The camera was ripped from its mounting by the sheer mass of the swarm and the feed went dead.

The commander ended the feed and addressed the gathered armada. Analyzing the tiny red insects their name was “Ambrogidus Flaxmaxus”, or more commonly called “Red Death”.

A highly invasive species that burrows into living hosts laying thousands of eggs that can hatch within ten seconds to thirty years depending on as of yet to be determined conditions. Once hatched, the larva will eat the surrounding flesh before digging their way out in search of a new host and repeating the entire process with a new host.

Because of the unpredictable nature of the hatching process victims can sometimes carry larva eggs for years without ever knowing. This has made quarantining worlds or victims all but impossible as the eggs blend in with the host’s flesh making them almost impossible to detect by scanners. Even the vacuum of space could not deter the insects as their shells were dense enough to resist the void while the insects themselves hibernated. This reason alone was why the terran cruiser detonated itself the moment it touched an infected shuttle. It was the only way to be sure nothing survived.

The humans admitted that they had been trying to spare the rest of the universe from this plague to contain potential chaos that could be unleashed. Several worlds ranging from small colonies to distant outposts had already fallen to the insect and there had been no designated counter agent for terminating the insects in sufficient numbers.

With a heavy heart the human stated that the “relief” fleet enroute was not coming to help the inhabitants below. It was a scientific fleet with the sole purpose of using the world as a testing ground on new chemical agents and weapons to try and kill the insects.

Even if there had been survivors below the humans had made it very clear.

No one was leaving that planet alive.

[tadpolesonalgae]

Demon!Azriel x reader: Teeth and Talons - Chapter 11

Warnings: murder, general death, Azriel, gore

Word Count: 3,549

-Part 10-

——————————————————————————————————————————————

It’s been simmering away long before he turned you. Maybe even before he met you. Bubbling and festering deep in the marrow of your bones, suppressed and denied over and over until it became something awful and ugly, untameable and unstoppable once it’s leash finally snapped. Wreaking devastation with wide-grinning teeth, talons that snicker-snack through flesh, crushing corpses beneath its leather covered paws.

You can feel it cracking open an eye, a slimy, translucent film beneath its lid, opening blearily, fully fledged at last, and ready to wreak havoc on everything around it.

And you know just the place to begin your destruction, how to set the doomsday in motion.

The twisted fucker that got you into this situation in the first place.

—————

It’s been a long time coming, this selfish sense of justice that you need to bring.

How many other women and innocents have they murdered in the name of mild boredom. The devil makes work for the idle, and their palms are softer than cotton. Easier to shred through.

Night hasn’t even fallen when you crawl up the walls of the palace, built in the centre of the citadel, able to see the priestess’ temple from the high crenellations. In a fleeting thought, you wonder what she’d think of your actions, if she’d condemn them or turn a blind eye for the sake of your own suffering. But she won’t be spared either—she should have warned you. Not sat you down over a cup of tea and given out her own simpering story.

Your claws hook over the balcony, effortlessly hauling yourself into the boy-king’s chambers. Take in the gaudy and lavish spread, undeserved opulence at its finest, long past the line of decadence. Nobody needs a golden chamber pot beneath their bed, no matter how well they eat.

Heightened senses pick up the beat of two hearts outside the door, filthily-paid guards positioned at the entrance, and your forked tongue flickers out over dark, rubbery lips. Drool drips onto the floor, but you pay it no mind, snaking silently across the marble before flinging the doors from their hinges. Blood splatters and bone splinters beneath the force, glittering talons making a wretched mess of the spurting bodies, unthreading sinew as you crush their lungs beneath your paw, the steel of their weapons nothing against the raw hide coating leathery limbs. At your back, your tails thrashes, gouging slashes in the stone as spikes slice through marble, putting breaks in the castle that nearly broke you.

Your nostrils flare, picking up the scent of someone young, blood too sour to enjoy laced with the overripe flavour of age. The sag of skin practically a flavour in and of itself as you skitter down the hallway, scrambling up the walls, clambering along the ceiling as you spot a familiar pathway, ones you’d been forced up when you were human. A human woman with bare feet and scrappy clothing, still shot through with remnants of sickness.

The great hall looms before you, and your pulse spikes, screaming for you to loose hell on the people within. Your back arches in a stretch, easing your muscles into working condition, warmed from the earlier blood-bath.

With a flick of your great, thrashing tail, the massive doors cave in, being flung from the frame in a crash of dust and stone. It doesn’t even take a minute before the guards within are splattered upon the pristine walls, dripping blood and viscera onto pretty, marble floors. Staining the stained glass red.

The boy-king screams, a high pitched wail that grates on your ears as you slither through the hall, only to come to a stop at the foot of the dais, watching as an acrid smelling liquid drips from the too-large throne where he’s cowering. Blacked-out eyes flick through the room, but the advisor is no where to be found, fury lighting you ablaze, rage rippling through your soul as magic pulses through the room, shattering the glass, sending bloody fragments raining down on the gardens below.

You hardly feel his tiny bones crack beneath your palm, as simple as squashing a fly—the difference being you’d feel bad about the latter, stealing food from the spider. Hot flesh is crushed into the floor, leaving a mushy pile of indiscernible parts dripping from the throne, iron mixing with ammonia.

Again your nostrils flare, heart pounding with bloodlust as you search for the man who’d sentenced you. Who’d been responsible for casting you out into that forest, beyond reason.

A broken cry sounds from the entrance, and you whip around, rubbery maw sharpening into a grin as you find your meal, held upon narrow, shaky legs that wouldn’t make more than a mouthful. His eyes are round and terror-filled as they take in the hell-beast you’ve become.

Shadows writhe at your wings, crowing them in a corona of darkness, tail thrashing and tearing at stone.

The advisor stumbles back on doddery old legs, stumbling and tripping as he falls on his bony behind, hands scrambling as he frantically pushes back from you, like a baby trying to crawl away. Razor-sharp teeth glitter, kept clean and pristine, waiting to be used.

You prowl forward, excited to take your time stripping his skin from his skeleton, feeling it peel from his flesh. Claws click on the marble floor, ticking like the second hand of a clock as you revel in the rising scent of his terror, so many wonders afforded to you with this new body.

His mouth opens in soundless scream, a wet gasp rasps from dry, old lips, hot breath wheezing from sinking lungs.

You press your paw over his chest, pinning him to the ground as his skeletal hands weakly rub at your fingers, trying to remove the great things from spearing him entirely as they curl into his back, tearing at sagging muscle. You wish you could gloat, could tell him who you are, see if he remembers what he did to you. See if he remembers being the one to suggest leaving you to the devil you’d sold your heart to in order to be cured from the plague.

His eyes are wide and glassy…the old man with already fading hair and wrinkles that swallow his eyes beneath flaps of loose skin.

The memories pour in, the rope biting into your wrists, weakness coating your muscles…eyes as black as the devils. The look alone had been enough to have nausea roiling in your stomach, threatening to upend it right there on the marble floor you’d been shoved to. Eyes that had swallowed you whole—black like you’d never seen black. Dark as pitch.

(alarmingly void, more than anyone’s have any right to be…and lacking in definition. Just one solid layer glazing across the obsidian coloured surface. Depthless.)

Terror-stricken blue eyes stare up at you, watery and weak as they strain and bulge beneath the pressure on his chest.

Ice glazes through your veins, blood freezing over just as a wave of pure power slams into you, throwing you back through the hall.

Your head cracks back against the marble, spine aching from the shockwave and you slide down onto the floor, collapsing behind the throne before slithering back to your feet, snaking down the dais. Eyes locking with cocoa.

There’s a brief moment of sorrow that flashes. It’s hardly noticeable, and passes before you can fully grasp it, but it’s enough for her to slip in.

Elain raises her thyrsus, knocking its base against the floor, a thrumming wave of power gathering in a shield as your talons clack against the stone, warily prowling forward, mouth watering to sink into his flesh. Cocoa flicks through the room, finally taking in the carnage—the blood splatters, and splintered fragments of bone dripping from the dais you’re standing on. The warped and crushed corpse of the young king.

“What have you become?” She breathes vehemently, delicate brow narrowing over cold eyes, shields rising up and locking down, sceptre spinning in her hand as she sets one foot before her, the other behind at five o’clock, pointed outward. A snarl rips from your chest, watching as she takes up a defensive position between you and the exit—between you and the rasping advisor. Between you and your meal.

Before you can think properly, you’re darting forward, faster than a shadow, shooting across the floor as talons crack down on her shield of magic, the staff appearing as a way from her to convert her power into a weapon. Burning rage pounds through your skull, yearning to obliterate as magic gathers at your fingertips, rubbery lips stretching into a grin when it coats your claws, slicing through her barrier.

She’s thrown back in the room, robes skidding through cooling pools of blood until she reaches the threshold of the caved-in doors. Glee beats in your chest as you skitter forward, the sound of leather stretching as your grin widens, showcasing gleaming rows of razor-sharp teeth, ready to rip and shred to your pleasure. The staff has been knocked from her tender hand, and she grapples for it as you scuttle closer, speeding up the closer you get until darkness is building at your back and your wings are flared in a display of dominance, keeping her pinned to the bloody marble with shadows.

Incisors glitter in the light as your jaws part above her, preparing to bite down and end when steel wreathed in fire slides beneath your throat. “Step away from her.”

Eyes flick up, jaw locking as stinging, searing pain lances down your right collar bone, bleeding into your shoulder as your gaze locks with a whirring, mechanical eye. Golden and russet narrows with unforgiving fury, glowing like the flames from a forge as the blistering steel raises in warning before pulling back. Fire sparks across the floor, aiming for your limbs to burn you alive as he spins, making to slice the blade across your throat.

Darkness flares out of nowhere, colliding with rampant and furious fire, and you’re thrown back as another figure joins the fray. One that’s packed with deadly power, great wings wreathing his back as he looms over Lucien.

“Step aside, Azriel,” the male hisses, flame licking up the walls, heat sweltering.

“Put the blade away, and I’ll consider letting you keep your other eye,” he drawls lowly, syllables dragging like gravel from his throat. Fury gathers in the room, settling like oil over your skin, so heavy and greasy you can feel it practically weighing you down.

“Look around,” Lucien snarls, flame deepening with sizzling rage, held in check by a leash of thread. “Your mate has killed dozens of humans, as well as trying to murder mine.” His power flares on that last word, as if instinct is roaring at him to protect but he’s restraining it. “Put. Her. Down.”

Even through your haze of anger, the words clang through, reverberating across leathery skin, hackles raising at the threat.

Azriel shifts on his four great paws, wings flaring menacingly as a snarl rips from his throat, settling between you and the male. “You look after yours and I’ll look after mine,” he growls, darkness taunting flame, building steadily at his back.

A little further behind Lucien, Elain shakily pushes up from the pool of blood, a trembling, pale hand reaching for her staff, brimming with a pale light. With a flick of her wrist, the magic flares, beaming like a spear for the unprotected underside of his throat. Faster than thought, faster than instinct, you’ve shot across the marble, skittering beneath his front left paw, jaws snapping viciously as your own power grates against Elain’s before sending it careening off, gouging marble from the crumbling castle.

Tension ripples as the four of you are locked in on one another, senses keyed to the slightest movement, waiting for the coil to snap so the others can be torn to shreds.

The room explodes in glittering black, razor sharp talons clicking skittishly as power splits your two sides apart, blasting a wall of physical adamant between you, just translucent enough for Elain and Lucien’s figures to be wrought in shadow.

Azriel’s body lowers, both in a bow and in a circle of protection, paw shifting forward to keep you tucked beneath him. Instinctively you follow, curling back into his power, tail pulled tight—ready to lash out.

The darkness simmers away, revealing the tall, powerfully hewn figure of a male. Wickedness practically drips from his finery, raven-black hair pushed neatly back from his brow as sharp violet eyes settle coldly over the scene. A wave of dread ices across your skin, a weight dropping in your belly as you take in the immense power that’s rolling from his shoulders—a god.

Azriel doesn’t so much as breathe different, but his shadows gather beneath you, thick and lush like a rug of black wool, drawing his magic in closer as a circle of protection. A suggestion of defence.

“Azriel.”

The voice is deep and icy, dripping with malice, and the spines at your back prickle. Your own magic weaves through with his shadow, hiding in plain sight but ready to spring free as fear pools in your stomach.

Violet flicks through the room, taking in the splatters of blood, dripping viscera, then his gaze locks with yours. It’s a new kind of fear, you realise, being singled out by a being so much greater than you are, and you shrink away, pushing back into the protective power of the male above you. His stance broadens, covering more of you as great paws settle further apart, braced for sudden movement.

“What happened here?” The god doesn’t remove his attention from Azriel, but it’s clear the question is not addressed to him. The shadowy wall fades entirely, and your gaze shifts to the two figures opposing you, Elain having gotten to her feet, robes soaked in blood, staff gripped dismally in her hand with grim determination.

“Your brother let his mate run free,” Lucien replies lowly, tone like gravel—lined with restraint. “She tried to kill Elain.” Fire brightens before again banking, as if being soothed by the reminder of her presence at his side. Sharp, violet eyes once again cut to you, “is that right?”

You manage a quiet snarl, fear drumming in your pulse, paws shifting like a great cat preparing to pounce. Muscle coils tight with terror at being faced with the god, having his attention settle like ice over skin, preparing to rip away. His sharp eyes narrow on you, and you pull your magic tighter.

Is that right? He repeats, and you recoil into Azriel’s chest, flinching as the god’s voice echoes through your mind. Through your peripherals you can see as a frail body starts to life, gangly limbs trying to heave up his torso as the king’s advisor return to consciousness. Once again you shift on your paws, hissing viciously at the trembling man, blood and vomit coating his front as he takes in the four beasts before him. Five.

“She wouldn’t kill Elain,” Azriel growls from above you, shifting his paw to block your line of sight from the advisor. “I wasn’t asking you,” your god replies coldly, attention pinning you to the ground as violet bores into you. “She won’t be able to speak yet,” Azriel bites out, power thrumming at your paws, curling up your arms, brushing at the leathery hide you’ve been coated in. “She changed less than a week ago.”

“Then why weren’t you watching her?” Lucien growls sharply, eyes blazing.

The god casts a warning glance at the fiery male, but does no more than that, evidently also seeking an answer.

Azriel shifts above you, and you can feel the oiled gears of his mind clicking effortlessly, spinning his information into a silky web. “I was,” he growls, gaze turning to the god appealingly. “You know as well as I do everything is well warded. The only way she could have escaped is if someone let her out.”

“If someone let her out?” Lucien echoes disbelievingly. “Those wards are practically impenetrable. It would be impossible to unlock them from the outside.”

“Lucien’s correct,” the god drawls icily, gaze drifting to Azriel’s, warning glittering in their depths. A timer counting down as his patience begins to fray, the metallic scent heavy in the air. Azriel makes no obvious moves, but you can feel his frustration curving around your bones, wrapping you tight to him.

It seems the god senses his hesitance, pouncing on the second of indecisiveness. “Don’t try and hide things from me,” he bites out coldly, power weighing heavily in the air, so intense it sets your iron stomach churning.

A muscle feathers in Azriel’s jaw, before charcoal eyes raise to violet. “She wasn’t going to make it,” he growls lowly, resentment coating his tongue. “Elain can attest to that.”

Violet flicks to hardened cocoa expectantly, but the priestess is already watching you, peering beneath a strained brow. Her jaw is tight, but she gives a curt nod, fingers still bone white around her staff. “That’s true. We both saw her before,” she answers, gaze briefly meeting Lucien’s. “She was feverish and already going into delirium. It’s unlikely she was going to survive.”

The god’s attention returns to Azriel, the edges of his irises slightly thawed but remaining hard.

“She was going to die,” Azriel repeats, words pulled taut as they leave his tongue. “She had to go through the Pit, or she wouldn’t have survived.” The three figures stiffen preternaturally, colour draining as something cold and awful settles uneasily across the room.

“The wards were likely weakened from residual magic,” he grits out, still keeping you wrapped beneath his shadows, as if trying to keep you hidden from them. “Enough for someone to get through.” You press a little closer into the lines of his body, tension beginning to drip away, releasing its hold on your heart. “They’d already tried to take her once. They thought this would be their chance to get back at me.” Shadows writhe across the marble floor, flaring with concealed rage, fury manifesting in his power.

“You think your brothers caused this?” The god asks slowly, eyes once again touring the room, filled with drying gore. Azriel nods, and you begin pulling slowly at your magic, gathering it close to your skin, preparing to jump.

Tension and fear knots your stomach, twisting in vicious carvings as you keep yourself coiled tight beneath the solid frame of Azriel’s form, keeping pressed tight.

Cold violet flicks over the squashed carcass of the young king, distaste passing through his features. “You’re telling me your brothers created a gap in your wards, and she managed to do all this before you noticed?” The god drawls skeptically, voice clean-cut like glass. Azriel’s talons pierce the marble floor. “She went through the Pit,” he repeats lowly, “she’s much stronger than—”

The advisor starts in your peripherals, body jerking to life as the contents of his stomach is heaved upon the floor.

Your tail cracks like a whip, coil snapping free, splattering pieces of flesh against the already blood-caked windows.

Body obliterated in the blink of an eye, before curling back tight to your paws.

Silence buzzes across the room, four pairs of wide eyes watching as bits of intestine drip from the sill, pooling in a gouged-out puddle in the floor. Almost immediately Azriel’s own tail is curling around you comfortingly, shadows stroking at your sides as if to lull you back into a state of ease, soothing the wild drum of your heartbeat, tail twining with your own.

Cold power raises from the floor, darkness thrumming in warning as tension buzzes in your ears, having them flatten against your head.

“How much blood did you give her?” The god’s tone puts fractures into your bones, like rock grinding against rock, grating on your soul.

“As much as she would take,” Azriel replies quietly, and you feel his attention brushing affectionately over your leathery skin. Silence reigns heavily, stretching out as you huddle back into his power, wanting to escape from the immense power of the god.

“You did what?” Elain breathes, eyes wide as she stares at Azriel, grip tightening on her sceptre. She seems to be the only one of the three capable of formulating a response, something blazing in her eyes. “She was going to die, Elain,” he snarls protectively, body settling closer to you. “Because you neglected her,” she hisses, brown eyes cold and hard as they bore into the male. “You plucked her up out of her life, you refused to properly care for her, you were the one who refused to teach her anything because she wasn’t what you wanted.”

Azriel’s snarl is like thunder breaking across the heavens, marble trembling beneath your claws, and you settle against the sound.

Yet it doesn’t seem to bother the priestess.

“If she was the one who tore all these people to shreds,” she breathes, pale blue light blazing from her staff. “It is because you put that anger into her.”

——————————————————————————————————————————————

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover

az taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch @nightcourt-daydreaming @assassinsblade @marvelouslovely-barnes @v3lv3tf0x @kalulakunundrum @vellichor01 @throneofsmut

[tyxoxo]

Ylang Ylang

| summary: while being close to you and your family’s extinction, a promise needs to be broken to save the lives of your people

| pairing: fairyhunter!jeno x fairy!reader au w/fairy!xiaojun x fairy!reader (if you squint)

| genre: suspense, angst, smut, fantasy, multiple nct/wayv + aespa character inserts, jeno and hendery are brothers

| words: 11.6k

| warnings: murder, blood, torture, knife play, noncon smut + suggestive scenes, blackmail, exhibitionism, caging/imprisonment, degrading, unprotected sex

(this is purely fiction, warnings in bold mean potentially triggering content, everything is tagged accordingly)

a/n: @jenomov and i came up with this concept out of nowhere also, so massive thanks to them for the inspiration, ideas, summary, and endless brainstorming! they practically helped write this <3 also jeno’s look in the header is essentially how i envisioned him to look for this story but imagine him however you want 

playlist: 

livv? - ylang ylang

weatherby - fleeting frozen heart 

datfootdive - stars

alicks - 7 laps later

tame impala - one more hour

“C’mon Xiaojun, spit it out already!!” 

You teased at your loving best friend, shoving him playfully with a single finger as you watched him struggle to speak lucid sentences.

The two of you were in your favorite and most “private” hang out spot—in the trees on the outskirts of your shared village. Far enough away from the hustle and bustle of the community, but close enough for comfort. Though you tried your best not to drift into the terminology of “safety”, “danger”, or “warnings.” 

It was a sure way to initiate ill omens.

Both of your parents were aware of your shared infinity for exploring; venturing past the municipality limits. But as long as the two of you shrunk to “the size of a quail” outside of the village, they allowed you to bask in the wonders of blaring curiosity, to your heart’s content. Your species could never truly bring your guard down…

“Sorry…I just can’t form my words today.” He scratched the back of his head as he peered down at his lap, rustling the Crane's-bill flower crown perched atop his mauve hair in the process. 

“Since when do you ever really form your words?” 

This time you gave a subtle laugh to pair with your smile, hoping to ease his obvious discombobulation. 

“You’re right. I don’t.” 

His eyes met yours, his wings even twitching, which always signified when your kind was flustered.

He continued again, pulling at his own thumb as he drifted his eyes up to the newly blossomed tree leaves; an obvious attempt to avoid eye contact.

You could try to deny it for as long as you lived, but there was something within you that adored him more than he probably ever knew.

It was his tenderness, his soothing voice, his patience, whether it was those nights you stormed out of your house in search of him, as a form of solace from the constant nightmares of your genocide, or the days that you wanted to rant about your parent’s overprotectiveness (though they’ve eased up in recent years).

Anything you needed, he was there. And you always tried your best to do the same, despite having the feeling that he bottled up some of his troubles to keep from feeling like a burden himself.

“Well…I w-wanted to tell you, that I really appreciate you.” 

He gave up on his own finger trap, to tug at the bottom of his white flounce shirt, finally meeting your eyes again with another twitch of his translucent wings.  

“I appreciate you too Xiaojun, always.” 

You leaned forward, so light that you barely caused the branch underneath you to stir. He froze upon witnessing your close contact, only his brown irises lowering to watch as you took both of his hands into your own.

“Is everything okay?” 

You didn’t mean for your voice to come out in a whisper, but his stuttering had become more frequent, and this only made your thoughts whirl just as loudly as his.

If only you knew that he was on his way to confess his true feelings to you, if only he could get his mouth to work as fast as his brain, maybe then he could finally pull the weight off his shoulders.

But you made all of this difficult without even trying. His love for everything that was you, was infinite. 

Even your constant teasing.

And the glimmer in your eyes was no match for his composure, let alone the way you held his hands. 

You scanned his face in search of an answer, that definitely took too long for him to spill.

“Yeah don’t worry, everything's fine.” 

You tilted your head in confusion, wondering where this could possibly be going, knowing he was aware of your ever-so-apparent “what’s the deal” persona. 

He cleared his throat, and geared himself up for the revelation of a lifetime,

“I’ve been m-meaning to tell you that I really like you…that I’ve always dreamed of what it would be like to have this moment with you.”

You felt your wings twitch, more noticeable than his own. And the warmth that flooded your entire body could’ve lit the entire forest in a swarming blaze. 

“W-would it be crazy if I asked you to be mine—”

His lips seemed to come at a rest in slow motion, eyelashes fluttering in stark contrast as he heard your breath hitch in your throat.

Not even the sun’s rays that flashed through the white pine tree could’ve taken you out of your shock. 

You used what seconds you had left, to replay his confession in your head,

“…I’ve always dreamed of what it would be like to have this moment with you”

Xiaojun, your best friend since childhood, had always dreamed of this?

But the thoughts of responding were ripped away, as blood-curdling screams roared from the direction of your home. They weren’t light hearted nor playful by any means, and with the ability to hear great distances, the agony that bestowed upon your ears caused you both to wince in fear. 

Xiaojun turned his head to look through the leaves, skin turning pale upon hearing further destruction. 

Most of the branches obscured your vision, but it didn’t take much longer for the despair to continue. 

“They found us!” 

That voice, sounded like Karina.

And her frenzied words gave the answer—after two years of hiding, the hunters were back. 

You felt your heart drop to your stomach, the ability to breathe becoming a distant memory.  

You squeezed Xiaojun’s hand as you crawled through the thick pine, your best friend eventually grabbing your waist to stop you from venturing out too far.

“Stay back!” His hushed tone was never this turbulent, bringing all the more truth to the chaos brewing just a mile away. 

“We have to go help!”

“It’s too dangerous, I can’t risk you getting hurt!” 

Your adrenaline was too much for Xiaojun, as you managed to fight through his tight embrace or rather his hold on your longing to see your family and friends for what could be the last time. 

“Let me go! We can’t just sit here and do nothing!”

You attempted to gear your wings for flight as you broke through his hold, hands raking through the leaves to get a clear view through the sea of green.

As you hovered past the pine tree, a familiar being appeared to be flying this way, the telltale sign being the blush colored wings that matched the embroidered dress swaying through the win at high speeds.

It was Giselle. And upon getting a closer distance, you saw the blood spatter that painted her arms in fresh crimson. 

She was her natural size, like what your kind all chose to be while in the comfort of your home, and the only guess as to why she didn’t choose to shrink was the amount of energy it took to do so. She seemed to grip at her side as the blood continued to stain her silk dress, not once looking up at which direction to fly. Her Dahlia flower crown was nowhere to be found, something that she cherished more than anything in the world.

You had to help her, get her to safety within the trees, whatever you could to secure a better fate. But the constant screams kept you too terrified to react, and being out in the open like this was indeed risky. 

Before you could muster the strength to call her name, Xiaojun was behind you, the vibration of his wings filling your senses. He leaped at you once again, this time pulling you back towards the trees with labored breaths.

He couldn’t just do this to you…prevent you from saving a life, from saving not only your friend, but his friend too.

You managed a measly call of her name, knowing her advanced hearing would be enough. And successfully, she glanced up for the first time since her escape, to watch as you motioned for her to join together in the same tree.

Her face, lit up with hope, was the last sanguine expression to ever grace her face, as the all too familiar sound of a crossbow arrow being loosed from its quarrel sped towards her injured frame.

Your scream, one just as gut-wrenching as those that continued from your home, was muffled against Xiaojun’s palm as he pulled you back within the tree. You were forced away from any further intervention, forced away from burying your guilt.  

Giselle flung forward from the sheer impact of the arrow as it shot through her heart, her umber strands flying through the air in the same intensity; entire body falling face forward onto the red speckled bermuda grass.

You couldn’t look away, not while you witnessed her final moments—eyes drifting up to meet yours within her last breath, wings falling lifeless against her spine, and a faint smile from knowing you would be the last person she would ever see, instead of the hunters that were walking towards her. 

Your entire body shook against Xiaojun, trembling in fear that her killers would surely discover the two of you here.

“Fuck! Hendery I had her!” 

An unfamiliar voice, but one you would never forget, roared through the clearing that led to your dead friend. 

You never felt so much anger from a person before, someone that you could only imagine was seething at the teeth.

Xiaojun finally took his hands away from your mouth, allowing you to inhale as much as you could before they got too close. But he still kept his arms wrapped around you, fighting through his own sobs that hit against the back of your neck.

“No Jeno! I’m not letting you fuck this up anymore! Remember what Johnny said?”

Yet another unfamiliar voice, but you were able to put the faces with the names right as the two humans approached just meters away, barely appearing disheveled despite the chaos they just unleashed. Thankfully their lack of enhanced senses worked in your favor, as you and Xiaojun remained undetected during their inspection of the area.

The one holding the crossbow was Hendery. And the one to speak first with the serrated knife was Jeno. 

These had to have been the hunters your family warned about. For the two years since relocating to this new area, all of the last surviving elders made it their mission to describe these two, for if the day came that they scoured the land again, you would instantly know it was them. 

They were just as menacing as your parents described, especially the blonde, Jeno. 

Whether or not it was on purpose to instill fear within all of your kind, you were always taught to never underestimate him or his brother. 

The two of them could’ve passed as supernatural beings themselves—flawless skin, chiseled features, intimidating height, and the perfect build…you could’ve spent your time describing their otherworldly looks, but their tyranny overshadowed everything else in your mind.

Your breathing finally began to steady as you stared them down like hawks within the evergreen tree, watching with glossy eyes as they stood over Giselle.

Maybe it was the tactical black clothes they wore, or the shared onyx in their eyes. Either observation caused a shiver to run down your spine; they screamed carnage.

You and Xiaojun both jumped as Jeno sheathed the knife in his left hand into his thigh holster, the ear-grating sound bringing you back down to the harsh reality of your near-death experience.

“The others should be on their way any minute. Let’s go.” 

Hendery spoke again and pointed downward with his crossbow at Giselle’s lifeless body, signaling for Jeno to carry her now.

The blonde obeyed, but not without a  furrowed brow as he bent down to gather the fresh corpse.

You were sure his disgruntled expression was due to his brunette counterpart taking away his kill, and a part of you knew that his method of disposal would have been way more barbaric than Hendery’s. 

You felt sick to your stomach to admit that maybe Giselle didn’t suffer too much of an agonizing death, as an arrow to the heart was the quickest way to an end.

Jeno loves the thrill of a chase. Once he has his sights on you, his frenzy doesn’t stop… 

The warning that your own mother gave you stuck ever since she first told you. And it all made sense now: Giselle was part of the hunt.

The last you would ever see of her, was a delicate, lifeless body slumped over Jeno’s shoulders as the two brothers walked back the way they came. 

The two of you could’ve stayed hidden in the trees forever, passing the time by staring at the way the grass moved in the wind. Especially now that you had to face the aftermath of being found after such little time.

Xiaojun’s arms slowly unwrapped around your body, falling onto the branch in defeat.

You couldn’t help but fight back more tears as you looked back at him, eventually failing as you saw how red his own eyes were.

“What did they mean by “be here any minute?” 

You asked in a trembling tone, voice slightly breaking from the sobs that overtook your chords.

“I fear they’ll stay close by for a while, but maybe it’s a chance we’ll have to take to see what’s going on.”

His cool breath touched your lips as he spoke, and you could only give a nod. No amount of talking could take away the pain you felt. 

The two of you cautiously exited the trees, remaining in your shrunken size to stay undetected. 

You gave one last look at the grass below you, soaking in Giselle’s blood that splattered onto the now-soiled greenery. 

Xiaojun led the way, choosing to duck behind the trees along the clearing, as you did the same.

The area seemed too quiet now…

The wisp of arrows no longer filled the air, and the crashing of what sounded like housing structures were no longer drowned out by the screams of your family and friends.

Considering the two of you purposefully ventured out past the village limits, it seemed like hours before you reached the entrance to your once-forever home.

The destruction seemed picture-perfect to what your elders had experienced in the past.

Xiaojun reached behind to interlock your fingers with his as you both approached the gates. You could only let your wings carry you now, barely reacting to his physicality…the numbness had become too overbearing. 

No sign of life could be caught within your sights, only smoke and dwindling flames littered the landscape.  

Houses were barely standing, with sunken ceilings and crumbling timber.

Could everyone truly be dead? Even your parents?

You tried your best to peek over Xiaojun’s shoulder, trying as best as you both could to find your respective homes. And considering how small the two of you were now, the billows proved to be difficult terrain. You both covered your faces in defense of the embers, fending off the irritation to your eyes.

Xiaojun was the first to look towards what was left of your home, eventually dragging you along despite your best efforts to protect your eyes.

Upon stopping and hovering in front of your disheveled porch, it was obvious your parents were gone; though you didn’t want to think about the manner in which they were gone. 

You couldn’t even bring yourself to rummage through the chunks of burnt siding, as every piece was scorching hot to the touch.

“Why even fucking bother?” 

Your anger began to overshadow your grief, and despite the fumes emanating off the burnt mahogany, you kicked at what remained of the entryway.  

Images of your parents flashed through your brain; undoubtedly giving it their all to fight back, not even caring that they would ultimately fail against them. 

They never thought about the aftermath of their bravery…going out in glory seemed like the best way to go.

Xiaojun could only choke back tears as he hovered beside you, knowing that no amount of condolences would render you healed. He wasn’t a ghost to this kind of pain either.

You were there for him when his parents found their end at the hands of the hunters years prior.

And he knew he had to do the same for you. 

“I’m sorry…” Xiaojun sniffled with a squeeze of your hand. You met his bloodshot eyes, blinking away yet another tear. 

Your focus soon shifted past your best friend, as your eyes drifted over to a familiar piece of pink flower nestled under a heap of singed plywood. 

Xiaojun noticed, and followed closely behind as you flew over to your discovery. 

Somehow saved from the flames, was Giselle’s flower crown. 

You steadied the speed at which your wings fluttered to keep the smoke at bay, and in one fell swoop of your hand, you held onto the only remnant of your dear friend. 

Maybe this is why your kind wore these, not only as a form of self expression, but for moments like this. So anyone gone, would never be forgotten.   

“We should go…” 

You were sure it pained him as much as it did you to not give a valid response to his shared grief, but staying here out in the open was suicide. You clutched onto the Dahlia flower crown as the two of you flew south, with no real destination in mind.  

Maybe a change of scenery or something less-desolate would clear your head. 

—

Jeno tried his hardest not to tear a muscle in his jaw as he clenched down with every exhale. 

He was left fuming ever since the end of their hunt. 

He knew why Hendery intervened, and the thought of someone trying to control his methods disgusted him.

It didn’t even matter if that certain someone was his own brother.

No one got in the way of his kill.

Although he wanted to body slam Hendery into the ground, all thoughts of getting his vengeance were cut short as Yuta and Sungchan were arriving to help load the bodies. The brothers were waiting just outside the village in a clearing, with high hopes that more fairies would cross paths with them in the process. 

Jeno passed the time by tossing his knife up and down in the air, purposefully avoiding conversation with his brother to bring more tension into the air. It worked somehow, with Hendery only kicking a few pebbles along the dirt instead of discussing how uneventful their slaughter was. 

Yuta and Sungchan eventually drove up in the shared sport utility vehicle courtesy of Johnny, that had definitely seen better days: waves of mud caked along the fender from transporting bodies to buyers all over the county, along with a few specks of dried blood on the front tire rims from a raccoon Hendery hit the other day.

The fellow hunters skidded along the rough terrain with the help of four wheel drive, successfully parking in front of the pile where only four fairies lay stacked on top of each other.

The sun was beginning to set along the distant horizon, seeming faster as the entire land lay nestled on a hill. That still didn’t stop the golden hour from illuminating the-now blackened blood painted along their lifeless bodies, even decorating a few of their ruined flower crowns like black ink.

Yuta was the first to exit the driver's seat, putting out his cigarette in the portable ashtray just beneath the car stereo. Sungchan followed suit, but not without towering over his comrade as they came to a stop to view the brother’s labor. 

“I feel like there should be way more than this…” 

Yuta’s crimson locks swayed in the breeze as he broke the silence, eyes darting from the bodies, then to the blonde, then to the brunette. 

He was sure such a statement would tick Jeno off, who’s excess pride always managed to bring home the most kills. 

“There’s definitely more out there. I saw a handful scatter south.” Hendery tilted his head in the direction as he kicked the final pebble over towards the pile of bodies.  

“Yeah well if you didn’t get in the way half the time, I would’ve gotten them.” 

Jeno spat as he sheathed the bowie knife back into his thigh holster. His dissatisfied expression only grew as Hendery scoffed in response. 

“What, you have nothing to say?” Jeno finally looked over to him, who’s tongue-in-cheek appearance was almost the final straw to his mania. 

“Can we just load these up already?” 

Sungchan, the timid pacifist, was the only one to stick to the task at hand, bending down to gather one of the bloodied corpses.

Yuta walked over to open the trunk as he texted Johnny with an update.

They each gathered one with ease, and despite being in their full size at death, all four managed to fit with a few pronounced shoves.

“Seems you went easy on them this time Jen…” Yuta took one final glance at the trunk, making sure Jeno heard his side comment before closing it. Based on the way Jeno slammed the rear passenger door, he succeeded. 

Yuta couldn’t help but light yet another cigarette as he put the car in reverse, even offering one to Jeno and Hendery who both declined with a shake of their head. 

It would take at least forty minutes before they reached headquarters, and anything to diffuse the obvious tension was worth a try.

— 

You subconsciously thanked whatever God that your kind didn’t need food and water as often as the humans who co-inhabited this earth.

If you did, the hunger and dehydration would’ve befallen you a long time ago. 

Neither you nor Xiaojun had eaten anything since the attack. 

It was now dark, and based on the abundance of nocturnal animals scouring about, it had to be late.

And unfortunately, the smell of petrichor began to fill your noses. 

Rain was definitely not your best friend while in this size or without proper shelter.

“Let’s stop here before it starts pouring.” Xiaojun guided you over to yet another tree, choosing to fly high up along the weeping willow for extra protection. 

He had become so steadfast in a small amount of time, and you were sure it was because of his familiarity with this type of tragedy. 

At least he was holding himself together better than you were. 

Each time you glanced down at Giselle’s crown, you couldn’t help but tear up. And the thought of potentially finding more along your journey scared you.  

Just as you nestled yourselves within the leaves, the rain began to pour and soon came the thunder.

Regardless of mother nature’s wrath, the comforting sound of raindrops hitting every leaf soothed away your stressors, as it did for Xiaojun. And not soon after, you found yourself laying back into his body for added warmth. 

He welcomed your embrace, and let his head rest on top of yours as the two of you tried to drift off to sleep.

Giselle’s crown never let you, perched just above as some sort of guardian that you hoped would watch over you for a lifetime.

“I love you.” 

Xiaojun’s whisper stirred you from your near distant slumber, and as you rose your head up, you found your lips just millimeters away from his own. 

“I love you too…”

—

2 years ago

—

“Sorry to cut the training short but I need everyone in my office now.” 

Johnny’s stone cold appearance into the gymnasium-sized training room caused everyone to freeze in place. Even YangYang, the newest recruit, had a hint of worry in his eye from what his boss could possibly want at this time of day.

The new offensive tactic he was learning from Hendery felt too liberating to be interrupted.

Nonetheless, all five hunters dropped their practice weapons, and began following through the halls of their headquarters. Jeno walked close behind, exuding annoyance with every step, followed by Hendery, Yuta, Sungchan, and YangYang, who all seemed less vexed. 

“Fresh meat” as Yuta liked to call the newest recruit, found the Brutalist architecture of the entire headquarters difficult to get used to. Nothing felt welcoming, but what could he expect from a group of ruthless hunters who’s only form of entertainment were killing or training? 

YangYang hoped that maybe he was jumping to conclusions, and that maybe they actually engaged in more leisure activities.

Eventually they made it to Johnny’s office. YangYang mentally recalled the first time he ever saw it, back when he was interviewed.  

Not much self-expression, or color for that matter; only strange and usual murals of taxidermied animals, and a few plaques of outstanding achievements in “Guerilla Warfare.”

The newest hunter felt awkward in the sea of black, not knowing if he seemed “lazy” for wanting to sit in one of the two chairs positioned in front of the carbon grey desk. Though, his pondering was short lived as Hendery and Yuta swiftly shoved between him to claim the only two seats.

Everyone except Jeno stayed in direct view of their boss, instead opting to lean against the wall with a few kicks to the fine carpet below. YangYang could already tell from his fifth day here that his blonde-haired comrade was the hothead of the group, intimidatingly so. 

“I called this meeting to discuss our sales…they’re unacceptable.” 

If only YangYang had known that this wasn’t the usual topic of a meeting, nor was it a common issue, though he did notice that everyone had their undivided attention, especially considering Johnny’s succinct tone. 

Yet there was a hint of relief in the hunter’s exhale, as there was no way he attributed to whatever poor sales his boss was referring to, when he’s only been here for less than a week.  

“I wanted to wait and see if maybe there was a mistake in my counts before pulling you all out of training, but it’s quite obvious that we’re down 20%.” 

Based on the way Sungchan and Hendery dropped their heads, the news was transparently bad. And despite the amount of bodies in the room, the atmosphere grew cold in the span of a heartbeat. 

“I don’t understand, we’ve killed thousands. How is that bringing us down?” 

Yuta was the first to speak after what seemed like minutes; eventually sparing the room of awkward silence. He leaned forward in his seat with intrigue, ultimately showing concern that was shared across everyone’s faces. 

“Precisely. It’s not the numbers, it’s the method.”

Johnny leaned far back in his chair with a cross of his hands over his abdomen—typical posture for someone trying to keep their composure.  

Was there confusion? Definitely. So much so that Hendery finally raised his head with a dumbfounded expression which might’ve garnered a slap from his displeased boss, though the thickness of his chestnut bangs spared him of the reprimand. 

“With each receipt that I get, there’s been a pattern...some sort of complaint.” 

Johnny paused to grab the binder in the corner of his desk that housed all of the “receipts”, eventually flipping it open to show the large stack that could barely stay organized due to the lightweight paper.

“Specimen AG — parts not salvageable due to maiming of thoracic cage and surrounding viscera…

Specimen BH — parts not salvageable due to debasement of intestines, including prolapse…”

The list seemed to go on and on—fifty pages worth to be exact, and it wasn’t until Johnny read the sixth one that the group of hunters finally caught on to the stress brewing within his chords.

“There’s a reason we don’t use bombs or any explosives, but based on the condition of these bodies, doesn’t fucking matter if we do!”

Johnny slammed the binder shut; seeming to resort back to his previous posture with equanimity. 

His voice barely above a shout, surely to get louder if no one spoke up soon.  

“But there’s one thing I won’t do, and that’s babysit. I have way too many important things to take care of while you guys are out there. So you all need to tell me what’s going on.”

“I might have a clue…” 

YangYang’s peripherals shifted to Hendery, who was the second to speak with a brief raise of his fore and middle finger. 

“I don’t think it helps that there’s someone in this room that likes to go overboard with their methods.”

YangYang was the only one to scan the room for the person in question, and eventually his suspicion bloomed upon setting his sights on Jeno.

He would never forget his first day hunting, nor would he forget the lingering smirk that painted Jeno’s face with every kill. 

Each fairy met their end in the most gruesome way possible, and somehow even his own brother had less sadistic methods to his madness. 

Limbs torn, torso’s gutted, throats ripped…

That was one way for Jeno to distinguish himself from the more quick and painless deaths of his counterparts. 

Easily…

“You piece of shit…” 

Jeno’s bark was just as hefty at his bite, and snapped YangYang out of his recollection. 

Thankfully his laconic response was towards Hendery. 

“I should’ve known.” 

Johnny produced a heavy sigh as he leaned forward to put his head in his hands. 

“Jeno you’re one of the best hunters i’ve ever known, you and your brother both. But you can’t do this. I’ve had countless buyers not only documenting but telling me that the parts are too mutilated…”

Johnny’s tone surprisingly stayed neutral, but the disappointment in his face didn’t falter.  

“Why criticize me for doing what we are trained to do?” 

Though Jeno remained still against the wall, it was evident his fists were clenched inside the pockets of his combat pants to resist the urge to punish his brother for “snitching.”

“They can’t possibly buy that junk Jeno!”

“Okay, next time I’ll just sit out and let everyone do the work then.”

Jeno’s solution to the problem was only a smart-ass response, one that tensed the room more than it already was. 

“Everyone seems to understand but you…”

—

Present

—

[0900]

Two hours of laying in bed with his eyes open when he could’ve been doing something more productive ate away at Jeno’s soul. 

Perhaps the best way to take his mind off the disappointment from yesterday’s hunt would be to train, even better if he could do it alone.

Considering it was still early, he was sure that could be arranged.

He couldn’t stand to hear the soft “tick” of the analog clock any longer, eventually rising up and navigating across the dimly lit bedroom; being especially mindful of YangYang’s crutches that lay in between their separate beds.  

Just a few weeks ago he sprained his ankle while training with Yuta, and never heard the end of it from the red-haired bully. The teasing was warranted, as his clumsiness made him miss out on the second hunt of his career. 

Before YangYang was recruited, Jeno was lucky enough to have a room by himself, but for the past two years he’s had to share. And despite his constant gripes with Johnny over that decision, there had been no changes in his room and board. 

Thankfully, YangYang wasn’t as much of a headache as he thought he would be. 

Just as Jeno reached for the doorknob, he was interrupted from YangYang’s awakening. 

“How was yesterday?” 

His groggy morning voice was a far-cry from his more upbeat tone that tended to blossom throughout the day. 

“You didn’t miss much.”

Jeno refrained from turning his head to address YangYang’s curiosity, and as a result, missed the frown that littered his face.

“Guess that makes me feel a bit better about being a klutz then.”

YangYang had grown accustomed to Jeno’s uninterested personality and expected nothing in return: no reassurance nor words of encouragement, but it still left him feeling cold as Jeno exited the bedroom with a harsh slam of the door. 

—

After freshening up in the bathroom, Jeno eventually walked through the maze of minimally designed hallways, with the constant reminder of how the entire building matched his current mood—arid, dull, and grey.

The gymnasium was just off in the distance and past Johnny’s office, which he suspected to be empty.

But to Jeno’s surprise, it was occupied by not only his boss, but an unfamiliar person. 

Their voices still seemed hushed to a low volume as Jeno decided to pause just past the partially open door. The brief glance Jeno gave in between wielded a weak observation of the boy, but just enough to know that there was no way he could survive here—he looked barely old enough to even drive. 

“Even though you still have yet to gain experience in the realm of hunting, I think you’ll be a great new addition to the team Jisung. We have plenty of approachable people here who would be more than happy to assist you on your learning curve.”

“Such a relief to hear that.”

The voice matched the ingenuous appearance of the boy, and somehow Jeno already had an irked nerve creep under his skin from the thought of gaining a new inexperienced “co-worker.”

“Due to tight restrictions on sales and making sure everyone gets equal pay, you’ll probably be the last hire, but I'll make sure we get you trained to expectations in no time.”

Last hire? 

Jeno immediately fell into the depths of suspicion. 

There was only one possible meaning in Jeno’s eyes: and the answer was replacement. 

The mere thought of deception plagued the mind of the seasoned hunter, and to such a degree that he could’ve easily torn down the door and stormed in to give both of them hell. 

If anyone saw Jeno now, they would see a raged monster—veins pulsed along his arms and down to his fists where he aimed to punch the wall nearest to him. The impact from his knuckle to the grey wall proved to be successful, and no amount of sting could’ve prevented him from giving another punch. 

Of course they heard it. And he didn’t want to stick around to see their faces when they came out to check. The self- control Jeno possessed, would ultimately spare the two of his wrath. 

The thought of training no longer sounded appealing; only real damage…real blood, could diffuse his anger. 

And no one could stop him from killing the way he wanted to. 

Not even his own brother, that just so happened to unveil himself from his shared room with Yuta. 

Hendery was just beginning to start his day, having already decided to sharpen his crossbow arrows, as training with them weakened the aluminum overtime.

He heard the loud “thud” just as he opened his bedroom door, and to his surprise, Jeno was storming off in the direction of the courtyard.

Something had to have bothered him, especially to the point that a large dent was made into the plastered wall on the other side of Johnny’s office.

Did he have an impromptu meeting? 

As Hendery began to jog towards his impetuous brother, he heard the creak of the office door, but couldn’t bother to look back at who appeared from inside.  

“Jeno! What’s going on?” 

His call yielded no response, and it seemed like miles before he got in arms reach of him.   

Just like Hendery predicted, Jeno made it to the frosted glass doors of the courtyard, violently pushing them open to the point of almost cracking the inorganic material. 

Hendery managed to lunge forward, ignoring the voices of Sungchan and Yuta in the distance as he cupped the back of Jeno’s shoulder.

“What the fuck’s going on?! Stop!” 

Without conscious thought, Hendery’s reflexes erupted from the center of his body, branching out towards his limbs to forge protection from the sudden backhand Jeno tried to give with his left hand. Hendery adjusted his footing to keep from falling backwards, but it seemed that he had to be one step ahead to handle Jeno’s blind rage. 

Sungchan and Yuta halted side-by-side, just in time to see Jeno practically attacking his own brother, with the first strike barely missing, though another seemed to be winding up from his right hand.  

“What could you possibly do, huh? I’m getting fucking replaced!” 

Sungchan was the first to look at Yuta with confusion as they heard Jeno’s explosive response. Even from their position at the doors, they could see every contour of Jeno’s muscles contract along his arms, with veins bulging against both sides of his temple as he seemed to hold back a snarl. 

Regardless, the two hunters felt relieved to know they weren’t the ones trying to console an absolute maniac. 

They knew better. 

“What the hell?” 

Within minutes of the brawl, a flurry of bodies appeared at the door. Johnny rushed down the steps after uttering his shock, followed by Jisung—and in the process of his first appearance, earned a scoff from Yuta as he brushed past. YangYang was the last to reach the ensemble, teeming with frustration at his inability to get accustomed to his crutches. 

If any outsider saw the scene before them, they would question if there was any proper authority amongst a group of murderous men. 

“Jeno! You have to stop!” 

No amount of pleas from Johnny could tear the two brothers apart. And whether or not it was to make a good first impression, Jisung lunged into action to separate them both as best as he could.

With the assistance of Johnny, who was undoubtedly stronger than the three combined, the heavy strikes to each other's bodies eventually ceased…followed by bruised cheeks, puffed lips, and labored breaths that flooded the hostile climate. 

Clearly, Jisung made the mistake of keeping his hands glued to Jeno’s shoulders as he rose from the dark granite rocks, shoving away the unwarranted contact. 

“After all these years of me outperforming everyone you’ve ever known, you’re going to throw me away?” 

He spat in Johnny’s face, even bucking towards him without shame before turning his attention back to Jisung. It was clear that Jeno wasn’t done, and Hendery’s intuition seemed to outshine everyone as he noticed his brother gearing up for another strike. Maybe it was the fact they were both bound by blood, as the two were always one step ahead of each other’s intentions. 

Despite the pain burning at his body, Hendery put himself in between Jeno and Jisung, yet again taking another punch, this time for someone he hadn’t even propely met. 

He took the brute force of Jeno’s knuckles, with plenty of newtons to make him stumble back. 

Jisung barely had time to flinch, but the aftershock left him feeling indebted towards Hendery. 

“I don’t want to lose any of you! If you came to me in private, I would’ve explained, but instead you go absolutely insane thinking he was your replacement?!”

For the first time, Jeno let his fists unclench with a harsh grimace. If it was to hide his disgrace or combat the raging headache, no one would ever know. 

Johnny stepped closer to Jeno, seeking out a valid response, but he was met with an ungracious exit. 

Hendery held onto his aching cheek as he watched Jeno walk away, presumably to never come back. 

His final act of longing to reach for his brother was interrupted as Johnny spoke,

“Just let him go…”

The entire courtyard turned to silence as Jeno pushed past his two comrades at the door, eventually disappearing in the adjacent hallway. 

Jisung was surprised to find that even after all of the chaos, Johnny remained calm. How? 

—

“Xiaojun…Xiaojun wake up! Do you hear that?” 

Off into the distance and below the same tree you both had been sleeping in for the past night, you heard the sound of flapping wings. 

Through the breeze, you couldn’t discern if they were from your kind or an animal, but you desperately needed a second set of ears to assist with your discovery.

After rubbing your companion’s arm, he finally awoke, albeit at a snail’s pace. The flapping stopped just as he stretched his upper body, and it didn’t take a genius to realize your disappointment.

But there again, you heard the high frequency sound of those same wings down below. 

This time Xiaojun heard it, and even his eyes grew an astonishing amount,

“I hear multiple sets of wings…do you?” 

Maybe his advanced hearing fared better than yours considering your lack of proper rest, but after concentrating enough with closed eyes, you heard it too.

“We should go check.”

You wondered if Xiaojun felt like risking his life yet again, but if this was anything like you hoped, then there was a better chance of survival with more than just two to a team.

He agreed with a subtle nod, and stayed close behind as you both crept towards the edge of the weeping willow. 

You paused before going any further, deciding to reach back and grab Giselle’s crown as it was practically your security blanket. 

Once you reached a safe distance, you scanned the twilight sky for any signs of aerial life. But that observation was soon forgotten as four pairs of living bodies were flying across the fescue grass. 

Myrtle, Canna, Red Flax, and Black Pansy rested atop each of their heads and you immediately recognized them.

Karina, Jaemin, Renjun, and Winter. 

You clutched Giselle’s crown close to your chest as you dove towards them, almost forgetting that Xiaojun was right behind you. 

Their hearing proved to be just as fruitful, as they each turned in the direction of your swift flight. 

Their faces, lighting up just as bright as the peeking sun over the horizon, gave you all of the strength in the world. They seemed to be alive and most importantly well considering the disaster that befell the community just two days ago. 

No words were spoken, just tears of relief as an assembly line of embraces filled the atmosphere.

Due to your excitement, you didn’t notice that they too had flower crowns, with Karina being the one to carry all three. 

Chenle, Ten, and NingNing. 

You felt a tight squeeze on your heart as you eyed the only evidence of their unforgettable beauty, but to see remnants of their existence was more than enough closure. 

Winter was the first to speak as you hugged her last, 

“I can’t believe you both are here! I’ve been crying ever since we made it out.”

She kept one hand on your shoulder as she used the other to rid the tear trailing past her chin. 

The abundance of emotions even managed to make Jaemin tear up, as he was someone who never cried. 

Karina seemed to keep her eyes trained on Giselle’s crown nestled in your hand, and as her lip began to quiver, you immediately rushed over to hug her again.

The two were inseparable—sisters who never missed the opportunity to experience life’s wonders together. 

You knew no amount of words would take away the pain, but you hoped that your affection would forge an era of healing. 

Based on her steady heartbeat and the collective encircle everyone decided to share, you knew it would happen eventually. 

“Have any of you seen my parents?” 

You waited until the group hug dispersed before asking, as you needed a solid look at each of their faces for any signs of an answer.  

The silence was deafening, but unfortunately more than enough to answer your question.

“I can barely recall what happened. Everything seemed like a blur…” 

Renjun’s statement garnered a collective nod. Nonetheless, you simply appreciated their existence as it didn’t seem like there was much left. 

—

Jeno had finally found a reason to keep going.

There, in a clearing upon chance, was the source of his thirst.  

Had the fight with his brother not happened, he would’ve missed the six fairies huddled in a circle amongst the teff grass. 

They seemed delighted in their reunion, albeit shaken up from recent events. 

Despite Jeno’s lack of supernatural abilities, he could still sense the wariness looming over their pitiful bodies…he could still feel the magnetic pull that drove him to be their absolute nightmare.  

If he was a dog, he would be salivating, shamelessly so. 

Ever since storming away from the courtyard, Jeno rushed back inside towards the training room to grab all of his signature weapons, along with any other utilities that would be of good use for his inevitable soul-searching. 

Considering Sungchan was quite intimidated by him, he doubted the tall lanky hunter would mind if he took some of his homemade smoke bombs.

Might as well make use of what’s here…

Jeno had a feeling he wouldn’t be able to go back home, especially now that he saw you. 

An absolute spectacle, perfect to use as an example of why your race was so  weak…so obsolete. 

Maybe it was the way you cautiously scanned the clearing ever so often, or the way you tugged at your opposite forearm to calm your nerves. 

Nothing stood out more than your doe eyes—even more gratifying if he was the reason they widened in fear. 

He clearly missed the opportunity to see that fiery emotion the first time he scoured your home. 

Now he couldn’t let the chance slip away. 

As he readied the smoke bomb in his left hand, his own eyes shifted into something sinister, like daggers ready to gouge at your delicate figure.  

A toss was all it took to unleash chaos, and though the plume of white smoke covered your initial shock, Jeno knew he would see more of you, eventually.

It was like muscle memory how effortlessly his throwing knives flew through the air, hitting three in quick succession, spurts of scarlet shooting from their collarbones, tainting the ground yet again at the hands of a homicidal aficionado. 

Their cries of pain were melodic, practically a sextet of symphony that grew louder the closer Jeno got.

Just like he had planned, you were unscathed, attempting to assist one that collapsed from his attack. 

There was something different in the way you gathered your arms to lift him, something special in the way you practically ignored the obvious face of danger to make sure he felt your presence. 

Jeno wasn’t the only one that noticed—the two that lucked out from the assault called your name, practically begging you to save yourself.

But based on the caresses you gave this frail boy, you would rather die than leave him.

How was it possible that a surge of jealousy brewed within his chest just as quickly as your selflessness?

—

Jaemin and Karina continued to shout your name as they made their way towards the weeping willow trees. 

Besides them, you were the last one standing.  

Every hit replayed in your mind upon impact.

Renjun, Winter, Xiaojun—with every blink, their bodies flailed from the sheer power of the flying daggers. The wisp of each knife was just too fast for your hearing.

You couldn’t let your world stop, not with Xiaojun gasping for air as the knife protruded from his neck. He needed you, and even if he didn’t survive, you begged him to be the last person you saw.

“I’m r-right here!” 

You attempted to wrap your arms around his upper body to drag him away, but each attempt only garnered more of a struggle. 

Specks of blood continued to paint his eyelids, with blotches of purple spreading where the knife lay buried. 

The only sounds that managed to escape Xiaojun’s quivering lips were labored sobs, and the determination to reassure him began to crumble beneath your feet. 

All thoughts of an escape melted away as you heard the sheath of a knife coming out of a holster.

—

Your eyes fluttered open just as fast as your wings, though there seemed to be something restricting the full momentum at which you could generate flight.

The feeling of cold metal gave you chills all throughout your body, and the realization of where you were made you feel even colder.

You were full size, surely because the stress you endured however long ago was too much for your body to endure. And somehow, there was a cage large enough to fit you as you hung from the ceiling like a lantern. 

You gave up on trying to keep your wings stimulated as it constantly hit the black steel bars holding you hostage. None of that mattered anymore as you took in the setting before you. 

A wooden shack, rusted tools leaning against the walls, and the same dome-shaped cages hanging from the ceiling, with your friends inside. 

They each had their own confines, but the only thing separating them from you was the lack of movement and familiar pulses within their chest. 

You slammed your eyes shut to focus on any signs of a heartbeat in case your eyes were deceiving you. 

Your hearing was substantial enough to catch two—Renjun and Xiaojun.  

It only took a second for your eyes to flood with tears as you realized Winter was silent…no sign of life in her once-rosy cheeks, no luster to her auburn strands, no apparent warmth to her skin.  

Everything was cold.

And the only lasting memory you would have was her body slumped in the cage—eyes staring blank towards the exit that was so close, yet so far. 

Jaemin and Karina were nowhere to be found in the garage-sized space, but you hoped to whatever god that they managed to escape. 

If they had, they were the last ones left.

There was no ounce of hope in your survival.

“Renjun! Xiaojun! Wake up…please!” 

Your hushed cries were just enough to wake Renjun as he lay cramped in the cage. He was slightly larger than you in stature, so you could only imagine how uncomfortable he felt as his wings failed to even twitch inside the metal bars.

He grimaced before raising his hand to touch the wound on his collarbone. Blood has pooled underneath his Victorian blouse, ruining the once pearl-colored fabric.

The dagger was out, and thankfully his body generated enough clotting to seal off the gash. The same could be said for Xiaojun too.

He shifted once more before scanning the room, eventually settling upon your crying eyes.

“Where are we?”

He choked up the same curiosity your own mind had garnered, though your wishes for a proper answer were slim to none. 

“I don’t know…just please try and wake Xiaojun!” 

Renjun was closest to him, merely centimeters away.

Just as he slivered his arm through the bars to shake at Xiaojun’s shoulder, he froze upon seeing Winter.

Your eyes whirled over in the same direction, but you regretted every blink spent on viewing her lifeless body; you were sure Renjun felt the same. The pain emanating from his expression told you so.

As he fought through his blurry vision, you focused your attention back on Xiaojun, who miraculously began to shift within the cage. 

Despite his brutal awakening, you couldn’t help but marvel at how beautiful he remained through all the chaos.  

He winced from the stinging in his collarbone, blaring his ivory teeth that were just as bright as the moon, and just like Renjun, he too was stained all over.

The way his eyes immediately fell upon you would’ve made any flame last for an eternity. 

You would give your life for him.

The chance to do it would be soon, crashing down like a comet that would scorch your entire body in a blaze.  

A few clicks of what you assumed to be locks chimed throughout the room, and  there standing in the oak doorway was the end to your existence. 

Jeno.

To no surprise, he stilled in the door frame with heartless eyes, gleaming with the satisfaction of his catch.

He captured four of you on his own and could’ve easily taken two more. 

He stood in silence for what felt like fifty pendulum ticks, probably deciding how to execute each of you. 

Regardless of the fact that you were his prey, and prey were never meant to stare into the eyes of their predator, you couldn’t look away.

You had gotten a good look at him when his brother killed Giselle, but seeing him in this state made all the more difference to the stories your family told of him. 

He stood in similar black attire, with plenty of tactical accessories to compliment his status as a hunter—a knife holster on his left thigh, a belt assembled with the same smoke bombs he used earlier, and a few throwing knives tucked into an ankle holster on his right side.

There was a reason he was the most brutal one of them all. 

It didn’t take a lot to kill your kind, but it made his job more enjoyable if every method imaginable could be used.

Your trailing eyes proved to be a mistake, and your upcoming death all the more damning because of how flawless he appeared in front of you. 

His looks were even more deadly up close. Your eyes could’ve melted in their sockets at the sight of his sharp jawline, or even his cheekbones that heightened the electricity of his blue eyes. 

Maybe dying at the hands of someone so unbearably perfect would make the sequence into the afterlife a little less daunting.   

It was just a shame he wouldn’t make it quick. 

Finally you closed your eyes, only using your hearing to verify that his footsteps were coming towards your own personal cage. 

Your entire body flinched as you heard him unlock it and swing the door back, the gust of air rustling your eyelashes, forcing you to open your eyes wide.

He barely had to maneuver his body to wrap one hand around your entire waist, pulling you out of the cage like you were a feather from an owl.

You were nowhere comparable in size to him—the entire length of your body was easily a difference of a foot or more but your attention to those details were the least of your worries. 

The aroma of bergamot and cedarwood filled your nose, stemming from his neck and chest. Each beat of his pulse seemed to push the scent further into your senses, intoxicating enough to distract you from the fact he slammed you into the adjacent wall.

Your entire head recoiled against the weathered hardwood, causing your vision to multiply. It wasn’t until you felt his calloused hand wrap around your throat and lift you meters above the floor, that your sights finally settled. 

The cyan in his eyes had shifted to cobalt, though the diameter of color seemed to disperse as his pupils dilated. It was enough to make you wince, but showing fear would only fuel more desire.

“Please don’t…” 

You barely heard Xiaojun’s sniffled cries in the background, as the trance Jeno put you in was too much to decipher anything else. 

He continued to speak for you, but it didn’t seem to garner any second thoughts in Jeno’s mind.

You wished to be some sort of sacrifice; a guaranteed exit for what was left of your friends. There had to be something you could do to warrant that. 

The only other possibility was actually right in front of you, though you shuddered at the thought of breaking such a promise.

You were never one to plead for your life, but that seemed to be the only viable option to please the sadist in front of you.

With one final gulp that seemed to get caught in between his palm and continue down into your stomach, you brought up your hands to wrap around his own. 

His snarl only grew more intense as he watched, and there you saw a beast unleashing.

You opened your quivering lips, making a pitiful attempt at appearing even more pathetic than you already were.

“Take me…not them.” 

Just as you expected, he forced you forward by your neck, only to slam you back against the wall. It was definitely rougher than before, enough to make your brain feel like it would pop out of your skull. 

This time he stepped forward, using his chiseled thigh to separate your twisted legs.

His face was merely millimeters away from your own, and the coolness of his breath hit your lips like a blizzard.

You wondered why he didn’t verbally challenge your need for survival, but the reason was evident once you felt his groin make contact with your torso. 

He let his length speak for him. 

And with every squirm that you gave, it  continued to twitch under the confines of his combat pants. 

What you assumed to be the tip poked right underneath your breasts, and with that came the realization of how minuscule your kind truly was in comparison to his. 

Your eyes attempted to follow his other hand as he reached for his prized bowie knife attached to his left thigh. The brief yet ominous sound of it being unsheathed caused Xiaojun and Renjun to rustle in their cages.  

From where you were positioned, you could see Xiaojun just past Jeno’s shoulders. 

During this entire ordeal, you kept your eyes away from him, as the indignity of the situation was too much for your soul to bear. But now that it seemed your death was near, it was only right that you gave Xiaojun one final look of goodbye.  

You shifted your eyes over to the one person that remained with you through it all. 

Through your peripherals you could see the glimmering metal rush towards you, but instead of feeling a sharp twinge of pain, you felt a rush of cold. 

You could hear Xiaojun and Renjun’s breath hitch from afar as they both realized too that you were completely bare in front of them. Your clothes had flown off to the side, shredded from the sharpness of his trusted blade. 

Despite the coolness in the air, the warmth emanating from your core served as an invitation for the monster prodding at your stomach. 

Your entire body began to tremble uncontrollably, maybe as some sort of coping mechanism for the humiliation brewing deep within.

“Look at me!”

Your teary eyed shifted immediately back over to Jeno as he bellowed out his command, the cluster of veins in his neck shifting as he clenched his teeth. 

Your shaking didn’t seem to help as he positioned the tip of his blade at your collarbone, pressing inward to break the skin. 

“Keep looking…just like that.”

He spoke again, barely above a whisper; his speech matching the slow tempo of the knife being dragged down the centerline of your body.

The pain was nowhere near the worst to be endured, surely it was sharpness of the blade that kept the stinging bearable. 

A trail of blood followed, a fine line that only stopped once the tip of the blade reached your clit. 

You jumped considerably at the contact, which was enough to slice the bundle of nerves if you weren’t careful. 

As you tried to keep your composure, Jeno stared deep at your struggling frame, marveling in the way gravity caused all of the maroon fluid to pool around your warm mound. 

“Did you think I would kill you so soon?”

Any means of a response were thwarted as he tossed his knife to the floor. 

You were shocked, as that seemed to be his most prized possession, but in mere seconds you realized why.

In two swift motions he finally let go of your throat, leaving you to stumble onto your feet and gain a few recovering breaths. You weren’t even sure how to stand on your own two feet anymore, as you’d grown so accustomed to being one with the atmosphere, flying so freely before any of this mess started.  

Your chances at running towards your friends to set them free were all in vain as you heard the harsh sound of a zipper and belt clasp being undone. 

The sight of his cock snapping out of his briefs was enough to make you press your back as far back into the wall as you could. 

His length stood upright, with a glistening tip that managed to refract in the dimly lit room.

Time seemed to go slow as you watched his veins continue to pulse blood throughout his cock, keeping it just as red as your flushed cheeks. 

Precum dripped like a broken faucet with a distinct patter as it continued to hit the ground just as fast as your racing heartbeat. 

Your knees buckled as he used one hand to spread the clear liquid throughout his shaft in a slick up and down motion. 

He seemed to be sensitive already as he bucked into his own hand, trying his hardest to keep his self-pleasure to a minimum. 

You looked down to your feet to see that there were two puddles on the floor, one of your blood and one of his essence. 

The way they attempted to mix together kept your senses distracted, completely missing that Jeno stepped up to you with his pants at the ground and his tight shirt pushed up to his muscular chest. 

Your legs gave out just as he used one hand to grab at your hip, and the other hand to position his cock at your entrance. 

“First time I get to fuck anything like this…”

Your brief pleas of no were cut short at his pistoned inside you without warning, attempting to tear you apart without sympathy. The guttural groan he produced from his evil chords echoed throughout the room, bouncing off the walls louder than your friends screams.  

There was no way to respond to that, or to any of his actions for that matter. Not when you were being stuffed full, way past your limit. 

All you could do was cry out at the pressure as he came to a standstill. 

His mouth hung open in complete awe…somehow through his infliction of pain, you were wet. 

And the addition of your blood made the entry all the more gratifying.

He was barely a few inches inside, but he was already touching your cervix, and the bulge present in your stomach confirmed it.

Burning began to surge throughout your core even as he stood still to try and accommodate more for himself. 

“You can’t—nngh it’s too much!”

If he continued any further, you weren’t sure you would be able to voice your horror any longer. 

He was too enveloped in how tight you were to care; the pleasure way above anything he’s ever killed.

Your attempts to lift off his cock only made the burning grow and eventually, earned you more inches to try and take.

Now, both hands were on either side of your hips with a death grip strong enough to leave bruised handprints on either side.

You had no choice but to wrap both legs around his waist to alleviate some of the pressure. 

It wasn’t long before his groin finally made contact with yours, and shockingly you were able to breathe through all of the discomfort as he seated himself one final time.

The only thing keeping you grounded to reality was the continuous blood that seeped from your sternum and the grunts coming from Jeno’s drooling mouth as he began rocking into you at a steady pace.

You had long forgotten the others in the room—you couldn’t focus on that now or else you would go into shock. 

But it seemed the more rhythm and sounds that grew between your connecting bodies, the more inclined Jeno was to remind you of your broken state. 

You hoped the pleasure building within your core was strong enough to overshadow your guilt…the way he continued to hit every spot within your dripping pussy made you confident enough in that fact. 

Through it all, you couldn’t bring yourself to voice how full you felt. 

Your lips remained pursed together, sometimes even gnawing at the puffed skin to silence the sounds trying to escape your throat. 

It wasn’t until you and Jeno’s eyes met in sync, that a whimper managed to slip. 

Your eyes grew in horror, completely ignoring the skin slapping prodding at both of your ears. 

You failed, but it seemed to fuel every fiber of his being. 

He leaned forward to bury his face into your neck, allowing his tongue to paint a shiny picture along the side of your jawline. 

You whimpered again.

Like the puppet you were, you found your hands having a mind of their own, lifting to rake your fingers through the back of his platinum locks. 

“I could kill everyone you love, but you’ll still beg to take my cock…”

He groaned into your ear, tugging at your lobe for added effect. 

That was enough to feel a wave of disdained euphoria wash over your entire body. 

There was a band that seemed to snap at every nerve ending, causing you to squeeze your walls as tight as you could around his length until you came apart. 

Your back arched involuntarily, finally giving your wings a break from the wooden wall that continued to tear the skin open with every snap of his hips. 

“Fuck!”

He turned his head to roar against your cheek, hips slowly losing their rhythm the more your orgasm continued.

You voiced your displeasure with a whine as you felt him slide out of your weeping hole, only then did you realize that he wasn’t done with you.

He managed to face you to the wall despite how limp your legs were, and within seconds he was inside you again. 

This new position was even more intense than the last. 

Your hands grabbed at any crevice you could find on the wall for support as he drilled into you from behind.

Your eyes shifted down to see your juices splattering past his cum-laden pelvis, eventually mixing where the blood had turned black against the rustic oak floor.

“I’ll just keep you for myself, nothing more than a cock hungry slut…forever alone, taking everything I give you.”

His words stabbed at you worse than any knife. 

It was too late to self-loathe any longer. The deed was long overdue, as his own release was nearing.

You felt those familiar twitches deep inside your torso, coming all the way from his scarlet-covered cock. With one final snap of his hips, heat shot deep into your womb, coating your insides in milky white. The rest pooled against his groin, spilling onto the floor to join the rest of the filth the two of you created.

His animalistic sounds had morphed into more subdued moans that played over and over like a broken vinyl as he came down from his raptured high. 

Every word of caution from your family about Jeno seemed to be nonexistent now, because of you. 

You were nothing more than a toy for him to use. 

His exited you in a single breath, allowing your bruised body to slump onto the floor.

Convulsions soon followed as you felt his juices ooze out of your swollen hole. 

You were catatonic, barely even reacting to how shameless he was in fixing his attire. 

Only your hearing guided you to what he would do next. 

Maybe it was in your favor that your eyes were stuck facing the door, away from the eventual slaughter of your friends. 

You heard Jeno pick up his knife from the floor and walk over to what you presumed to be Renjun’s cage first. 

The rustling of the metal grew just as loud as his hysterical cries.

But there was something else in the distance that you could hear, outside of the cabin. 

Footsteps.  

They grew in speed until a brief stop. 

Luckily you were facing the door, hoping for some sort of savior.

It couldn’t have been Jaemin or Karina, as you would’ve heard the flutter of their wings instead. 

Through your frozen state, only your eyes could widen as you heard the door crash open. 

There standing with frenzied breaths was…Hendery. 

“Jeno I’ve been looking every—”

You watched as he dropped his hands, eyes scanning the sickening scene in front of him. There was a deafening pause, where you hoped the last bit of humanity rested within Hendery. 

You could only listen as he lunged at Jeno with a scream.

“You can’t fucking do this!!!” 

There was an obvious power struggle, enough to knock over various items in the cabin that crashed to the ground, but not enough to make you flinch. 

“Stop!! Jeno—”

Another pause, and this time you heard a knife enter someone’s skin. A rupture of what sounded like muscle tendon rang through your ears, followed by gurgling.

Time seemed to slow down as Xiaojun and Renjun entered your vision. 

Without a second thought, they lifted your broken body into their arms, a collaborative effort considering your current state. 

It was then that you saw the aftermath. 

Jeno was sprawled on the floor in a pool of his own blood, with his knife peeking out of his neck. 

The entire struggle was the claim of a life. But through it all, Hendery had set you all free. 

Your tears seemed to match that of the dark-haired human as he fell to his knees, mourning the loss of his brother by his own hands. 

A lasting memory that was etched into your mind instantly. 

Soon, the smell of petrichor entered your nose and then came the moonlight that illuminated your skin.

As the two of them flew up into the sky, you felt Renjun place Winter and Giselle’s flower crown into your arms as you were carried to freedom. 

—

to read about the lore, click here!

//tagging:

@tddyhyck @tsumuu @devinitysann

@oleoleniall @wingsss45 @onlyoursol-ace @xusbabe @cheyehc @derywinkle

[jebbaks]

so. Larssen! he is Certainly a guy!

(aka my wynncraft oc/repurposed oc from another universe who i've occasionally posted scribbles of here)

heres the rest of the scribbles. Mostly old art.

i have like a LOOOOOT to say abt him but basically

hes pretty much a living weapon type character. or rather he regards himself as one. being around other soldiers who fully believe in their cause and a failed attempt to recover his memories (rtp moment), he internalizes this over time and fully believes that the only thing he was born/made for was to fight, to be used as a weapon against the corruption. he can be thrown away at any moment, he can be replaced

this subsequently damages his ability to form relationships with other people; he thinks he has no business doing so. he consciously puts up walls in the beginning but he eventually almost becomes unable to strike up *anything* at all with another person. from rtp onwards everybody he meets, no matter how attached the other becomes — they all become fleeting figures in his mind. BUT he cannot deny that he very much desires connection. the root of the reason why he even internalized the role of the soldier in the first place is so he can fit in better with tasim and aledar!! he just . unfortunately loses sight of this as he progresses. to the point where he cannot even recognize his humanity

so his entire arc is him struggling internally w both sides, the one that is nothing but a soldier and the other that is very much undeniably human. pretty much. Yeah

some other things

secret library enthusiast. despite everything he'll still go out of his way to dig around and find more hidden spots to simply vibe in and forget about the world for a little bit. his personal favorites are the lusuco hidden library and the cinfras grand archive (which. he may or may not have yoinked a book or two from)

perhaps one of such books ft. rusty bartender

music guy!! he frequents mt wynn a bunch bc of the performances there. this is also smth i wanna get into at a later date. all yall gotta know 4 now is that he sings pretty nicely and he is prone to rambling/infodumping about whatever cool obscure ballad hes just heard/read about in the libraries

like dare i say atp he finds it easiest to connect w other ppl thru music and even then he still feels out of place among tasim and aledar after this.

he often frequents the rusty recruit just to talk to the rusty bartender about whatever he's been up to. it started as a one-off thing until he noticed after a while that the bartender actually *does* care about his adventures. so he just kept coming back. on and on and on until one thing led to another and now we're um. here. shoves aside barssen drawings

cat person. massive cat person. he will pet u like u are a cat. he will dump a cat in your lap out of nowhere and start spitting cat facts out of nowhere or something

id yap more but thats for another post

for now thank u for coming to my oc yapping session

[shiyorin]

This came from a joke between me and my friend. And it is heretic :v

#Yandere chapter space marines? Yeah….

#Blood Angels, Flesh Tearers and Lamenters.

#Don't ask me, I don't know what I'm doing.

Blood Angels

You awoke with a start, heart pounding. Another nightmare, yet this one lingered behind closed lids, elusive yet unsettling. Rubbing sleep from eyes, moonlight filtering through stained glass recalled where you lay, guest of the Blood Angels once more. 

Rising, soft slippers padded silent halls as restless feet sought solace. Marble gleamed ethereal, statuesque giants flanking your passage like solemn sentinels. A turn, and shadows shifted, was that movement ahead?

"You should not wander so late, mortal." Brother Varrael's rich timbre sent shivers down spine, lips curving a lover's smile yet eyes hooded, intent. "These halls hold memories better left undisturbed." 

His massive hand enclosed your smaller one with surprising gentleness, leading unresisting to familiar chambers. "Rest, and I will stand guard over you." Lingering kiss upon brow held an edge of desperation you dared not know. 

Days passed in diligent company, recording heroic epics for future generations. Yet unease grew, visions' shadows slipping between waking and dreams. Hands grasped where none should be, voices crooned foreign desires in loved tones warped. 

Heart seizing, you fled, only to collide with Varrael's towering form emerging from shadows. His strong arms imprisoned your struggling form against massive chest as velvet words whispered of dark devotion no lips should know. Livid scars criss-crossing pale flesh spoke of daemons conquering will through flesh alone.

Days blurred into restless nightmares, reality twisting beyond recognition. Every interaction held veiled intimations too intimate to comprehend, too blasphemous to accept. Yet denying the truth invited madness. 

His helm obscured his features, but you'd know Varrael's scent anywhere. Hot breath whispered your name against your ear as his other hand pinned your waist possessively. You shivered, seeing not fury but desperation in his stance. 

"Varrael, please..." Your plea was lost in a needy kiss, tastes of blood and longing upon his tortured lips. 

His mind swam in a crimson sea, torn between devotion and rage's call. Your light soothed the beast within, yet each parting fed its hunger for your touch alone. When next you stood together on the field of battle, survival instinct blurred with a need to shield, claim, destroy. 

Days passed in blissful torment, stolen moments reaffirmed devotion, yet bloodlust simmered nearer the surface for him. Try as he might, control was fleeting against the curse's tide. And when passion overcame his iron will whilst lost in your embrace, fangs slipping to graze your throat in ecstasy.

Flesh Tearers

You knew accepting this assignment with the Flesh Tearers meant danger, yet how could you refuse such a historic opportunity? Now you regretted agreeing as the Astartes' unhinged nature was laid bare. 

The Astartes spared you no glance. Except one, Tahareil especially unsettled you, his ice blue eyes tracking your every move with disturbing intensity. When allies fell in battle, his enraged howls shook the very foundation, an unearthly sound that raised primal fears. 

In coming weeks, your recordings captured noble Astartes in acts of valor against xenos and heretic alike. All performed duties with grim resolve. And Tahareil, who revelled in slaughter's ecstasy with abandon that chilled your soul. His thirst for blood appeared unquenchable, beyond duty's call. 

"Be at ease, mortal." he rumbled softly. "No enemies shall reach you whilst I stand vigil."

His protective claim should have reassured, but an undercurrent chilled your blood. When had a simple recording become so fraught with subtext unspoken? 

When battle was done, you worked alone editing recordings in sequestered chamber provided. Yet lingering unease persisted you were not alone. Sometimes catching fleeting glimpse of shadow beyond the chamber's edge, scent of musk and iron lingering where none walked. Paranoia's creeping fingers closed about your mind, were you truly an observer here, or had another thing found you?

One night exhaustion took hold, dropping guard enough to drift to fitful dreams.There terror's form coalesced, hulking figure looming over helpless prey pinned trembling in grasping claws. Feral grin split nightmare's maw as it dipped to sample sweetness on quivering flesh, revelling in lifeblood's rich perfume.

A gasp tore your throat awake, soaked in cold sweat upon rumpled pallet. But no, the nightmare lingered still, a shadow stirred beyond veil, eyes glinting some primal madness barely leashed. 

"Pretty little thing, almost forgot your scent..." Tahareil's rasp caressed your fears incarnate, large hand capturing trembling wrist to draw you against him. "Tell me mortal, did you use your witchery on me?" 

He inhaled your racing pulse, claws tracing your quaking form with possessive. Lips parted to protest yet words died, transfixed by the scare blazing beneath visored dark. 

"Let me taste it." his growl reverberated, "See what witchery makes me like this." 

His grip was iron, struggling futilely. Gauntleted claws rent flesh baring pulsing artery, raging beat filling bestial senses. Jagged fangs plunged deep, agonizing ecstasy flooding nerves as blood flooded.

Lamenters

You awake with a start, the shadows of another nightmare slowly slipping away. As consciousness returns, you become aware of a light pressure around your wrists and ankles. Panic rises in your throat as your eyes adjust to the dim light of phosphor stones. 

That's when you see him, sitting vigil at your bedside. Chapter master Malakim Phoros of the Lamenters looks exhausted, the dark circles under his eyes a sharp contrast to his pallid skin. But his gaze, as it falls upon you, holds only concern. 

"Forgive me," he rasps, voice rough from disuse. "The others thought it best until you'd rested. They mean no harm, only to keep you safe." 

You struggle to calm your racing heart. Abductions were not unknown, with the Lamenters' curse of ill fortune. But Malakim had always watched over you with a devoted, tender care unlike the others. 

His guilt-wracked smile is gentle as he administers sips of water through a straw. "The night terrors will find you. We could not risk you wandering in such a state.” 

You nod weakly, the adrenaline fading. His haunted eyes hold only relief at your return to lucidity. His love for you is palpable, yet shaded by a darkness borne of endless suffering and self-loathing.

In time your bonds are removed, though Malakim remains at your side. His brothers drift past your cell-like chamber, gaunt faces lighting momentarily at glimpses within. They meant only protection, you know, but their shattered minds leave little room for trust beyond their brethren. 

And you, their one ray of light in an ocean of gloom. Their luck, as Malakim whispers reverently whilst stroking your hair, sent to lift their cursed spirits from the depths of madness and despair. A blessing too precious to abandon to fate's cruelty, whatever the cost.

[nashiriel]

A new thought that occurs to me: Visenya’s egg. Do you think it could have hatched for Luke if he hadn’t offered it to the Cannibal?

It actually would have done!

It’s important to note that Luke is really not a reliable narrator when he returns to Dragonstone. He’s struggling with grief, survivor’s guilt, and a pre-existing sense of inadequacy that gets dramatically worsened by what he sees as him getting Arrax killed. If he had been thinking more clearly, he might have made some different, healthier choices in that chapter, rather than offering up the last remaining tie to his little sister and the life he could have lived with it in sacrifice. 

Had Luke chosen differently…

The egg would have eventually hatched for him into a little blue dragon. She’s a mischievous, sweet-natured creature, although Geradys remarks that her shape is quite akin to Queen Rhaenys’ lost Meraxes. 

This is not terribly helpful in terms of firepower, but does provide a boost for the Blacks that Rhaenyra is clearly rightful queen, given the ease with which her sons hatch dragons. 

Emboldened by this, Rhaenyra isn’t nearly as hesitant in sending her sons out into the field, with quite interesting implications for when pleas come later down the line for reinforcements against Green attacks. It also boosts Luke’s self-esteem (also, his massive, massive denial over Shipwrecker’s Bay) and helps convince him to accept Corlys’ offer to serve on the fleets as part of the war effort. However, the delay caused by the egg hatching means that Luke is still around when Arryk arrives, and because the Cannibal actually had no influence on Luke’s documented reaction when someone threatens his family…

Once onboard the ship, Luke is very aware of how dimly he’s regarded by many amongst Corlys’ men, particularly those who served alongside Ser Vaemond (though the Arryk situation does earn him some respect too). Desperate to prove himself, he throws himself into learning the ropes, helped by Alyn of Hull, whom Corlys mysteriously trusts above all others to guide his heir without undermining him. This helps forge a friendship that lasts throughout the rigours of the war, and also means Luke is very ready to vouch for Alyn and his brother in the highly unlikely event that they should ever have their loyalty doubted. 

Surprisingly enough, Luke actually flourishes quite well in that environment (although his seasickness is lessened after his near-drowning, a lot of it is down to him powering through as IRL sailors like Admiral Nelson managed). His dragon becomes a familiar sight, looping through the skies above the Velaryon fleet or coiled around Luke’s shoulders as he and Alyn work upon the decks (despite her small size, her issuing billowing clouds of smoke whenever Luke is vexed proves oddly intimidating!) Luke’s crew take a particular pride in “their” dragon, and joke she’ll one day be the greatest terror of the Green’s forces.

(“Princess Rhaenys had Baratheon blood, you know. Not surprising, really, the lad having hair like that, and there’s no denying his grandfather’s blood after he saw his men through that storm. Fine sailor, Ser Vaemond, but you’ve got to wonder, him being so quick to grasp at High Tide before Lord Velaryon even breathed his last-“)

Queen Alicent is driven to despair when her “my son is NOT a kinslayer, just FYI” campaign runs into the difficulty of Aemond being determined to remedy that - at least, that’s the only reason most can fathom for why he seems to keep haring off from his military campaign in the Riverlands whenever Prince Lucerys’ location becomes known. 

As it so happens, the various battles the fleet engage in across the course of the Dance do provide ample opportunity for Luke to prove as fierce as any dragon, including the sinking of most of the Redwyne fleet (which also ends with the capture of some prominent Hightower hostages). During a clash with the Triarchy, an enemy captain also finds out the hard way that a baby dragon’s flame is still deadly at close range. 

Luke starts having visions courtesy of his brush with the Drowned God. Unfortunately, these come in the form of fever dreams that aren’t particularly easy to interpret (Luke really should have got brought back by R’hllor instead) and that he’s not even always aware are of the future as such. He mainly tries to ignore them, but the rumour does leak out among the fleets that Luke has a touch of the strange about him - a rumour either fiercely denied or proudly boasted of by Luke’s men, whose doubts about their teenage commander seem to have gradually transmuted into a steadfast loyalty.

(“Mayhaps he used them dark arts to see off Prince Aemond, when he went alone to confront the traitor alone on the beach for a few hours. They say the prince looked awfully shocked when he landed back in Harrenhal empty-handed, and he even demanded a septon cleanse him, for his soul was gripped by a strange madness that seeing his nephew face to face had only worsened-“)

There’s a brief encounter with Dalton Greyjoy. The rumours that he suggested that Prince Lucerys could easily be the prettiest of his salt wives are probably untrue, as are the whispers that Prince Aemond’s rage when he heard them were what prompted Vhagar to torch half of the Greyjoy fleet. It’s undeniable at least that Lord Greyjoy sports both a small burn and a newfound respect for Targaryen authority afterwards.

None of the above changes Corlys’ feelings as a grandfather, naturally. Truly he loves them all equally, from Lucerys, his precious heir, pride of the Driftmark fleet and future Lord of Tides…to, you know, the rest of them. 

[nearen]

Prompt #1: Steer

“Adra! ADRA!”

Thud. Thud. THUD. THUD.

“ADRAAA!”

Blaring alarums almost drowned out the sound of Sven’s desperate efforts to break down the door to the engine room. They overlapped in a deafening, discordant rhythm as multiple systems reported critical failure throughout the ship.

Shut up, she snapped at him in her mind. Winding her fingers through her hair, she grasped handfuls of it as she paced the narrow corridor. Shut up, I need to think.

Above her, a valve blew its gauge. There was a metallic pling as a bolt shot across the room. Steam started to hiss, misting the air with oppressive, humid heat that made every breath feel like a gulp of warm water.

A saboteur had infiltrated the ship and meddled with its mechanisms. She surmised that much when she realised she was locked out of her failsafes. She was going to die, but that was fine. They didn’t all have to. Sven wouldn’t. Not if she had anything to say about it.

Arterial pipes ran throughout the ship. First, she had to close them. That would localise the damage to the room she was in—its insulated belly, the beating heart of the vessel, currently in the throes of cardiac arrest. The ship had more hope of staying in one piece if she could. It would still go down, and every system aboard would lose power, but they could control the descent.

As she set to work, readings poured in and streamed down a flickering console to her left, distorted by visual noise and the crack across the screen.

AUXILIARY TEMPERATURES ABOVE SAFE THRESHOLDS

You don’t say. Drenched in sweat, she could feel the very walls around her radiating heat. Each time she touched the console had to be brief or her fingertips would blister.

SAFEGUARD PROGRAMME ‘DELTA’ : FAILURE TO DEPLOY

We’ve exhausted plan B, then. Not that she’d held out much hope that any of her contingencies would save them at this juncture.

CORE PRESSURE LEVELS: CRITICAL

I know it hurts, old girl. Hold on just a little more, for me. All she needed was a few more precious moments. Adra knew she didn’t have them.

AETHERIC MODULATORS NOT DETECTED

That was the one that troubled her the most, because it suggested they’d been fried. But where was all that aether coming from?

A massive concentration of condensed, aspected aether would cause an explosion. It was going to happen. All she could do was decide where, and when. She’d have to manually direct the channels utilising analogue controls and trigger the detonation, because if this had to happen, it was happening by her own hand.

She’d been in two minds about installing aether-based technologies. It wasn’t easy finding engineers with the requisite expertise, and she didn’t like dealing with aether. Its raw form wouldn’t heed her, nor could she operate the technology required to direct it. She couldn’t abide the idea of entrusting that much power over her own vessel to someone else.

But the potential had been too alluring to deny. They’d tried to adapt a teleporter relying on the same principles utilised by aetherytes. In theory, it could warp the entire vessel and all its crew to another location instantaneously. In theory, because she’d never gotten it working. And now that useless chunk of crystal was going to destroy everything she’d achieved, everything she loved.

But not everyone.

Pipes burst around her. Searing hot ceruleum streamed down the walls, melting the metal in its path. A small explosion rocked the ship, and Adra was forced to hang onto a burning hot valve to avoid being tossed to the ground. It was now, or, well, now.

Grasping the lever with both hands, she pulled back. Every measure in place to prevent catastrophic failure was simultaneously deactivated. The result was instant. She didn’t have time to scream, feel pain, or regret the fleeting fragility of life. A soundless white flash engulfed her.

And then she woke, soaked in sweat, in her cot in the engine room. Its rhythmic purring assured her all was well. This was the CETEA, and she was en route to Kugane.

This dream, again.

When she’d heard what had happened to an unlucky number of the Unsung and one member of the crew, she’d been reminded of what had happened all those years ago. The similarities were plain. She’d even found herself flinching when she felt the explosion in the hangar as it shuddered through the ship.

An infiltrator. An aetheryte. A sudden displacement… even the destination was—not the same, but near enough to Doma. The only difference was that it hadn’t been her, this time.

She was still here.

It was time to get up and back to work.

[homicidalfantrolls]

Save the Scratches

A view into that I bet you’re wondering how I got here moment.

Khirti, Dia and Leo belong to @trollcafe

Doc

—

The more you pondered and the harder you thought about the situation at hand, the more convinced you become that the entire thing had to be some sort of divine prank. Had you been one to dabble in conspiracy theories (or just day to day fleet operations as some would claim) you would be insistent that this was all orchestrated beyond your pathetic attempts to do so. A two step plan. Go to the ball. Ask Dia to dance. Dance with him. Answer the question that you’d been too chicken shit to do months ago. Profit.

Instead, you became tangled in a spider’s web made of silk you could spend the next fifteen sweeps in the fleet working towards and still not be able to afford a yard of.

Dionis pays no attention to you or his matesprit as he examines various fabrics and patterns. He and the seamstress go back and forth, tittering on about inseams and waist sizes and words you had half a mind to believe they made up on the spot. Leo had been smart enough to bring a puzzle book with him. You only had your bouncing leg and enough anxiety to run a steam engine.

“Can I have a page?” You finally ask the massive seadweller next to you.

“It’s sudoku,” Leo responds, deadpan and without looking up from his book.

“So? I like puzzles.”

“You liked building and assembling,” Leo corrects, as if what he said made any bit of sense.

“What does—“

You’re cut off by Dionis returning. For the first time since he left, Leonra lifts his attention from his book to look upon his matesprit. Leo had always had his emotions under lock and key, his expressions never revealing much. Whether that was because of his dealings with Deepbite or it was the way he’d always been, you couldn’t say.

What you could say, however, was how much happier he seemed since you last saw him. Leo had always carried himself stiffly, something your foolish younger self had attributed to ego. While he still carried himself with a similar stiffness, it was now due to the pain plaguing his leg instead of the fear of being ambushed at any moment.

That was a level of guilt you didn’t have the brain capacity to process right now.

“Your suit will be ready in a few days. Plenty of time for adjustments,” Dionis informs you with a pleasant chirp to his voice. There was no denying he was much more excited about this whole endeavor than you were.

“Dionis, I—“

“I’m going to hope you’re planning to thank me instead of complain about cost or try to back out of this. I get enough of that from Leonra,” he interrupts with a flick of his tail. “You were much more receptive to this than he usually is. Don’t ruin this for me, dear. Don’t forget whose hive you're sleeping at. You go back to that motel and the conversation will be about the smell, not the mysterious purpleblood galavanting around.”

While there was too much in his words to unpack, you find yourself settling on the least frightening aspect of it.

“But I’m not…a purpleblood.”

“Maybe not. But you are a cusp, dear. You’ve always lived as the lesser end of what you truly are. I think, just for one night, you deserve to act like the half of yourself you were never allowed to show off. Don’t you?”

—

“He’s been waiting for you.”

The voice that suddenly speaks next to you startles you so terribly that you slap your poor whiskey clean off the counter.

Khirti follows the flight of your glass before turning her attention back to you. Without even so much as a pause, she waves the bartender over.

“Get him another whiskey, will you? Top shelf this time. Not whatever motor oil he had before. I’ll take another as well.”

Whether she didn’t notice your discomfort or just didn’t care, Khirti hops up to sit on the bar in front of you. She stretches one leg over the other, crossing metal over metal in a display that makes your chest ache painfully.

“You can’t pretend you haven’t seen him. Bitch is lit up like a damn road flare. We almost matched but then I’d outshine Tori and defeat the whole point of dragging his grumpy ass here.”

The bartender sets the drinks down in front of you, which earns him a fifty caeger bill from her wallet that she’d stashed in her top.

“Don’t act so surprised, Pip. Dia may not have told you but I’m a social media manager now. I’m sure he told you about our moirail. Gigs like these are a great way to get sponsorships and interest up. Also lets Tori flare his feathers out. Long story short, it pays to do a job for a guy who has no idea what a reasonable amount to pay you is. Also helps to date him.”

Words were not your friend at the moment. Your throat burned despite your whiskey remaining untouched. Your head remained turned away from the women at the bar, your gaze remained fixed on the bottles behind it. The labels were impossible to read from this distance, even from someone with the perfect vision of a pilot. You pretend you can read them anyway. Your brain makes up fake names for the liquor, fictional brands and slogans of vodka and whiskey and tequila.

Twin Sunset lime flavored vodka.

Rocket brand wine cooler.

Cherry tequila brought to you by Radio Silence.

Flower Vodka; An explosion of flavor.

Enjoy the free fall sensation of Loose Screw beer.

Relish the subtle taste of watching the most important figure in your life blow up because you fucked up repairs on your own plane so they couldn’t stay in the air, die because you weren’t fast enough to save her or were too selfish to give up your life to, never be able to look her father in the eyes or—

“You still with me?”

Once again, the sound of Khirti’s voice startled you. Your whiskey thankfully remained unharmed, though your ego did not. Your face feels warm under your mask, your ears pinning back ever so slightly.

“Y-Yeah.”

“Not used to seeing you zoning out. You were usually more vocal about when you were annoying someone.”

You don’t say anything. You’re not sure it’s a choice or an inability to form words. Your throat was closing up, preventing enough air to form coherent thought from entering your body. It was still enough for you to try desperately to come up with an excuse to leave.

“Khirti—“

“Dia told me you decked Mavrik.”

For not the first time since Khirti came over, you find yourself grateful for your mask. While you couldn’t be certain of what expression lie beneath, you do know that your tongue felt dry after you forget to close your mouth.

You swallow, hopefully not as audible to her as it was to you. Your chest burns with a different emotion, one you hadn’t felt since you had punched the man.

“…I did.”

“Why?”

“He’s…not who everyone thinks he is.”

“Dia told me it’s because he lied about how Daisee died. Because you said it was your fault.”

You didn’t know they planned to open the windows. You don’t know why they would in the middle of winter. Maybe you should tell them to close them. Even under your heavy fur cloak, you could feel the chill in the air.

Khirti, however, does not. Despite her dress only containing enough fabric to barely fit the definition, she didn’t flinch. She was as still as the stone countertop she sat upon, her metal legs staying crossed and unmoving.

“K-Khirti, please—“ you stammer, your voice barely above a whisper. It barely reaches your own ears. Through your mask and the commotion of the ball, one couldn’t be sure you had even spoken at all.

Khirti, however, heard you perfectly clearly.

“Tell me what happened.”

“I-I-my plane—“

“No, no. Tell me what happened to make you think it was your fault. Everyone knows it was a conspiracy. Everyone knows they were trying to kill me, that they wanted it to look like an accident or incompetence. That Daisee just…got caught up in. So tell me why you think her dying and me losing my legs had anything to do with you. When everyone else knows it didn’t.”

Your chest burns like fire. Your throat felt similar to how it did after every day of special ops training. Of screaming back at your drill sergeant, of swallowing ice cold seawater after as punishment.

“I…Khi—“

“Not now, Pip. Not tonight. There’s more important things going on tonight. Like a sexy limeblood who’s been waiting for you to answer his damn question for the past four months.”

Khirti hops off the bar, landing gracefully on the marble floor.

“Don’t be a stranger, Pip. I’m glad you’re back.”

And with a hand on your shoulder and a kiss to your mask, Khirti was gone.

You had only a few moments to stare into the glass of whiskey before the devil spoken of appears.

—

When Dia leaves, your anxieties are confirmed.

There was no chance, on any planet, in any galaxy, in any universe you had the balls to pull this off. What the hell were you thinking? You weren’t some kind of knight in shining armor, an action movie hero who could sweep him off his feet all suave and ask him to be your matesprit. You had imagined that scene over and over again to the point that if they asked you to direct a movie on it, you could do it with your eyes closed.

But now that you were here, you’re once again reminded of just how in over your head you were. You didn’t come up with any of this, this wasn’t your plan, your idea. Your original operation was to just…come down here, plain as day, and hope to run into him. Running into Leonra and Dionis was the fluke to end all flukes. Leonra saw no issue with your idea. It was unfortunately his matesprit who had to call you both idiots.

The only reason you hadn’t attended in your normal attire was him. The only reason you got his opinion was a fluke. He would forgive you for wasting his time, right? Leo too. He didn’t want to come but Dionis would have dragged him anyways, independent of him wanting to watch all this play out. It would be fine.

—

“Don’t be a pussy.”

Leonra’s deadpan tone hit you like a frying pan to the back of the head. You attempt to stammer an excuse out before Dionis interrupts you.

“Honestly, dear. You’ve come all this way. Quite literally, I might add. You took the week off and everything. You’re really planning to leave without saying even a word to him?”

“I…I don’t think he wants to see me. He didn’t know who I was but he flirted with me so I just—I think he’s moved on and that’s fine because I took too long but I don’t—it was a mistake coming here, I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing, I just—“

“Almiss.”

Your rambling is cut off by Leonra’s voice. Your ears pin back under your mask. It’s Dionis who speaks next.

“It wasn’t a mistake coming here. I’ve seen him looking around the entire time. He’s waiting for you, even if neither of you realize it.”

Your frown deepens, eyes avoiding the couple under your mask.

“I just—“

“None of that,” Dionis interrupts you once more. “Look at me.”

You do.

“You love him, and he loves you. So you’re going to go over there and ask him to dance with you. Because if you don’t, I am repossessing that outfit I bought you, right here, in the middle of the ball.”

“And I’ll let him.” Leo chimed in, having returned his focus to his sudoku.

You can’t help but laugh. While still filled to the brim with anxiety, it still felt like a weight off your chest.

“Alright.”

[bestworstcase]

what’s really fascinating in re: forever war with salem is the “ozpin has been dealing with salem for millennia and he knows that open confrontation isn’t how she operates,” ergo ironwood played right into her hands by preparing for an open confrontation during the beacon arc

except

…salem has staged, and won, two massive open confrontations in quick succession since the story began…

in fact once she began to make her moves she moved so aggressively and so openly that it took less than a year to force ozpin’s successors to spill the beans about her to the entire world; and of course the first shot fired was an act of terrorism and verbal manifesto delivered on live television to an international audience. salem is not a subtle or secretive adversary! that’s something ozpin is projecting onto her, probably because he hasn’t actually been dealing with her for millennia after all—

ozpin’s strategy during the beacon arc is wrapped around the underlying assumption that salem is not planning to do anything massively and publicly violent to provoke the panic he aims to prevent. frankly given the background context of enormous quantities of dust being stolen by malevolent unknown actors and salem having sent a spy to beacon that assumption is as dire a miscalculation as ironwood’s assumption that showing up with a fleet would scare her into thinking twice about attacking, but in ozpin’s case it’s grounded in his perceived experience of being actively at war against salem for thousands of years; so it’s like, is this a case of salem abruptly changing methods as she enters her endgame and catching him on the backfoot bc he didn’t anticipate this, or is it a case of salem focusing on other things (planning, experimenting, whatever) until she noticed ozma had [checks notes] crushed all those who denied his ideology in battle in order to establish an unprecedented global peace and concluded not unreasonably that he was on the brink of uniting the relics, followed by immediately rushing* to cut him down? has ozpin been at war with salem for millennia or has he just been dealing with normal grimm and normal human problems while believing it’s all her machinations this whole time?

(*when you’re eleventy million years old a few decades probably feels like rushing)

and if it’s the latter then… well it’s interesting in light of the “it should not be this hard getting people to just cooperate”/“and yet it’s something i’m becoming increasingly concerned about” exchange in 8.2 because why is ozma only now, after thousands of years of repetitions, becoming concerned about the reality that human nature itself makes his task impossible? like how much of the forever war against salem has he fabricated out of grimm being grimm and people being people because eternal war against an unbeatable but human adversary was emotionally easier to cope with than eternal war against human nature?