#exposing myself something fierce here

[gffa]

The anon from last night absolutely haunted me, I want to be clear that I wasn’t deriding the suggestion of getting into Prince of Tennis, it just tickled me so hard because I was so deeply into that fandom and I have no idea how to convey how off the deep end I was about it, so instead I’ll say: NO COME BACK TELL ME WHAT PARTS OF THE SERIES YOU WERE INTO, I’m always curious what people’s favorite school/character/pairing were!  This goes for anyone who watched Tenipuri! I’ll go first:  Seigaku was my ride or die school, I was not once a day in my life ever sane about Tezuka’s character, and I shipped so many things but rarely have I ever been as obnoxious about shipping something as I did Tezuka/Fuji.  Honestly, I liked most Tezuka pairings, including Tezuka/Atobe being my #2 OTP (though I was extremely fussy about how it was done), and the rare Tezuka/Oishi shipper (though, I was happy with them as friends, too, their friendship Made Me Feel Things).  Beyond that I went down the usual line of MomoRyo/InuKai/OishiEi/etc. I had a soft spot for ShishiTori, but only in a specific light.  I was a little nuts about Yagyuu/Niou and bugged so many people into fic, god, I was a menace.  I thought SanaYuki was pretty cute, too.  Over time, I was the rare fan who actually decided, no, you know what, Sakuno was actually super cute and Ryoma/Sakuno was Just Fine.

[anisespice]

“ the fuck-it list ” || hq! pt. 4

one || two || three

synopsis: there’s a list going around consisting of hot guys on campus that are deemed “fuckable” with theories as to what they’d be like in bed. it’s all fun and games until somehow your boyfriend ends up on this list. 

pairing: seijoh4 x gn!reader [ oikawa, iwaizumi, mattsun, maki ]

warnings: mature content. MDI. cursing, suggestive language, mild objectification, the word “dick” said over a million times lol this chapter is basically bigdick!4 supremacy, corny behavior, camboy!maki, slight mentions of degradation, iwa’s is the shortest (I’M SORRY), some minor errors probably and i think that’s it :] !!

notes: I AM SO SORRY FOR THE WAIT :'))) life was kicking my ass and the last thing i could think about was getting metaphorically dicked down lol but hope you enjoy, thank y'all so much for your patience, and the last couple parts coming soon!

tagged: @daedaep69 , @ahahadumbo , @viktoryn , @mdsb , @ourgoddessathena , @ushygushybaby , @hyori2 , @lumpywolf , @fantasycantasy, @captaincyberqueen , @tsukiran

OIKAWA would be the reason the list even exists, let’s be honest. 

But, for the sake of the plot, we’ll pretend otherwise.

Once again, without fail, after another grand win for the great king, he’s swarmed by his devoted groupies—Shoving their phones, gifts, and themselves in his face hoping to catch even a sliver of his attention.

And once again, you stood on the sidelines, impatiently waiting for him to leave the spotlight; irked your soul sometimes.

It’s not that you were against him being praised or anything, even though his head was fat enough to begin with, you loved the admiration people had for him. But there’s a fine line between being a fan and being a straight-up weirdo. 

And right now, they’re tap-dancing on that line something fierce. 

“Tooru!~ will you sign right here?” 

One pulled down the collar of her shirt, exposing more of her breasts that were pushed up damn-near to her chin whilst wearing a sultry smile. You caught a small glimpse of panic flash across his features before he covered it with a nervous laugh, eyes subtly shifting over to you as he replied. “..How 'bout a photo instead?” 

Things went on like that for the next few minutes. Someone would even take it a step further by flat out asking for his number, or if he was single. They already knew the answer to that, it was the same every time, yet they continuously tried their luck as if someday, through the power of delusion and manifestation, his answer would miraculously change despite you always attending his practices and his games, wearing his spare jersey, holding his hand, shoving your tongue down his throat, didn’t matter—Them hoes were relentless.

But, so were you. 

“Oh, Tooru!~ If you don’t wrap this up, you’ll be walking home!~” You sang, mirroring the tone of the girl from earlier. The semi-empty threat made the setter perk up like a hound, eyes wide as that same panic returned as well.

Although this time, he wasn’t so quick to play it off. 

“U-Uh,” he squeaked, then immediately covered by clearing his throat. “Yes, uh, well, it’s been great chatting with you all tonight. Thank you again for your love and support for the team, it's always appreciated. I hope you’ll continue to cheer us and myself oninthefuture—WAIT! [____]-chan! Don’t leave, y’know my poor legs won’t survive the walk back! Baby, c'mon, wait up!” 

Oikawa whined as he scrambled to catch up to your retreating form, no longer concerned with the crowd of disgruntled faces he left behind as they watched their object of affection slip away yet again. A small part of you wanted to turn back and stick your tongue out at them in petty victory, but you refrained. The sound of their great king pleading for your attention was satisfactory enough.

You barely made it outside before his long arms wrapped around your front, locking you to his chest as he leaned almost his entire weight on you. You could feel his heart thrumming against your head as he panted. Eventually, he huffed, no doubt pouting as he gently swayed you in his arms. “You’re mean.” 

Keeping your gaze forward, you frowned. “And I have the right to be. You said you’d tell some of those ‘fans’ of yours to chill out—it’s getting way out of hand, Tooru. That one girl practically flashed her damn tits at you, and you gawked like a virgin.” 

He chortled, incredulously, “I did not! She caught me off guard..!” 

“And yet, you rewarded her with a photo instead of calling out her inappropriate behavior. Make it make sense.” 

You attempted to shrug him off only for his hold to tighten, spinning you around to gaze at you with chocolate brown eyes resembling that of a puppy out in the rain—One of the unfair tactics of Tooru Oikawa to get back on your good side. You had full intent of ignoring him, standing your ground…but how could you possibly stay mad at that adorable face? 

Easy. By not looking directly at it. 

“Nuh uh. I don’t think so,” you gently pushed away the setter’s face, earning another whine in protest. “You’re not getting off the hook that easily. I’m really upset with you.” 

“Buh I dinit do anyfing,” he said through smooshed lips. 

“And that’s the problem. You need to set boundaries with them, Tooru. Things’ll only continue to get out of hand the longer you enable it. Next thing you know they’re clawing and biting at your flesh so they can take a piece of you home with them under their nails and in their teeth.”

Oikawa grimaced, leaning back. “Ew. Graphic. They’re fans, baby, not rabid animals. I think you may be exaggerating.”

You cocked a brow. “Am I now? Well. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

—

The team had never seen their captain move so fast in their entire season. This was the first time he’d just straight up avoided his entourage and head straight for the showers after practice, scurrying off like his ass was on fire. Questions would spark around the gym about this drastic shift in behavior.

“What’s his deal?” One player voiced. “Usually he sticks around at least another hour to entertain his cult.”

“Not sure. After our last game, he’s been skittish.” Another replied.

A third jumped in after taking a swig of his water. “Think it’s got something to do with that..thing we saw the other night?”

The small group thought back to when all of their phones went off at the same time, social medias in a frenzy about their very own star player. At first glance, they figured it was just highlights of their game, specifically highlighting Oikawa. But, upon further inspection…it was something else entirely.

'Tooru Oikawa. 6’3ft King of the Court, and also our hearts. Being notoriously known as the campus pretty boy, loved by many and envied by the rest, it wouldn’t be far-fetched to consider him the blueprint—The default setting of everyone’s wet dream. He’s a tall, talented, smooth-talker with playful eyes and a panty-dropping smile, a textbook definition of  ‘Prince Charming’. Everybody and they mama, daddy, even bald-headed granny would kill to jump this man’s bones. Many would see him as the romantic type, but there’s something more…unhinged hidden beneath the pretty-boy persona. After much debate, our beloved setter is to be dubbed a whole SWITCH, no nintendo. At first he’ll play the dominant role, but edge him long enough and you’ll bring the Great King to his knees, quivering, drooling, you name it. He’s shameless. 9.5/10 - half a point deducted for his inferiority/superiority complex. Get some therapy, babe. ♡’

They didn’t think much of it at the time, when it came to their attention whore of a captain, it wasn’t completely unexpected, especially if his groupies had anything to do with it. The players looked at one another, then back at the gaggle of hormones waiting for the brunette in question by the doors. It was unanimous.

“Yep.” “Uh-huh.”

The third player snorts. “‘bout time it sucked to be him for once.”

When Oikawa eventually exited the locker room, he did everything in his power to appear small, tip-toeing across the floor with his head down and shoulders hunched in crouching tiger-like fashion. He would’ve gotten away scott-free…if not for his petty teammates.

“See ya tomorrow, captain!”

It bounced off the gym walls, the setter grimacing as his devoted followers instantly looked in his direction, predatory gazes stunning him like a deer caught in headlights. Oikawa shot the players a nasty glare over his shoulder, flipping them off and continuing for the exit. He attempted to stiff-arm his way through the hoard, ducking and dodging their grabby hands and shutting down their…bolder advances.

“Tooru-chan!~ Let me show you what I’m capable of, I’ll have you begging in no time, just say the word!~”

“Unhinged men are so my type—Step on me, spit on me, call me names until I cry, I want it all!~”

“I bet it’s bubblegum pink, right? Does it curve to the left or right?”

Oikawa blanched. “Ladies, please, this is ridiculous! You all know I’m in a relationship with-”

“They don’t have to know.”

One had tried reaching out to touch him, but was quickly thwarted when the setter grabbed her wrist. Not tight enough to hurt, but enough to get the message across—Too far. Everyone came to a hush at the sudden display, cowering slightly at the intensity that pooled in his eyes, dark and cold as he fixed the whole group with a stern expression. You were right (obviously). Things escalated the second they were given an inch, with complete disregard to his boundaries and what you meant to him.

These weren’t fans. Not real ones, at least.

Oikawa deeply exhaled through his nose, calming himself down to keep from saying something he’d regret. Releasing the girl’s wrist, the setter gently moved her out of his personal space, resadjusting his bag and sporting a rather disinterested expression.

“It appears you all have misunderstood your place. I’ll forgive that disgusting comment only once. But, if this obscene, rude, and down right shameful behavior continues, I’ll have no choice but to inform the coach of your harassment and have you banned from future practices and games. Do I make myself clear?”

When you arrived to pick up Oikawa per usual, you were surprised to see that he was already waiting for you, not a single group ie in sight.

Skeptical, you looked around as you approached him, thinking those buzzards were still in listening distance, just waiting to pounce. But, when all you’re welcomed with was a big hug and kiss, you relaxed. Oikawa pulled back and gave you a sheepish smile. He explained everything that had happened, rubbing his the back of his neck in embarrassment. When he finished, he looked down at you with those same puppy eyes he gave you the other day.

“Please don’t say I told you so?”

You cooed, reaching up to fiddle with his hair at his nape. He leaned into your touch, content. Until you said, “I told you so.”

He frowned. “You’re MEAN.”

Once IWAIZUMI learned it involved Oikawa in any way, that’s all he needed to know to have no interest in the list. Sort of like Sakusa, if the topic gets brought up, he finds himself tuning out. The last thing he needed was to get dragged into whatever mess his dumbass best friend got himself involved with. But, unfortunately for him, one doesn’t simply choose to be on the list…the list chooses you.

And one afternoon, the former ace was the unlucky winner.

‘Hajime Iwaizumi. 5’10ft hunk made of pure Husband Material. We’re talking the man who’ll open doors for you, pull out chairs, hold your bags without fuss, give you massages, cook you hearty meals, the whole nine yards. With that information in mind, you can’t tell me he’s not an absolute DOG in the bedroom. I’m talking about a man who’ll bully your insides, manhandle you and call you his “favorite cocksleave” or his “pretty little whore”. He’s the type to say the nastiest shit in your ear and tease you for the cute reactions you’d give him before shoving his tongue down your throat, while his dick kisses your appendix. Definitely a Hard Dom who only rewards good behavior, so if you plan to be a brat to this man—Good luck. But, as soon as he’s fucked that attitude outta you he’s back to being such a sweetheart! So so so attentive, so devoted, and will do anything for you. He’s God’s favorite. 1000000/10.’

“Oh? .. Hey, babe.” You said, curiously. Iwa grunted in response. “You know that list thingy Oikawa-?”

“Nope.” He easily answered, eyes focused ahead and he continued bench pressing the heavy bar.

You slap his chest. “You didn’t even let me finish!” He responded with a playful smirk, making you lightly slap him again.

Straddling his lap while he pumped iron was routine. It consisted of him doing what he does and you keeping him company, soaking up his presence until you inevitably left for your next lecture. Sometimes you kept count for him, other times you’d happily just be a distraction; today you did both.

“Haji,” you whined, wiggling a little. He ignored you on purpose, stubbornly refusing to indulge the topic. But that didn’t deter you from pestering him. “Ha-ji-me!”

“Ba-by-doll,” he echoed, grunting shortly after when he placed the heavy weight back on the rack, finished with the set. Panting, he sat up and readjusted you in his lap, hands resting on your thighs as he finally looked at you, amused at your scowl. “I don’t get why you’re so interested in that shitty list.”

“I’m not…until now.”

“Why?”

Turning your phone screen to show him the updated post, Iwa’s eyes scanned it before his brows furrowed in confusion, then tightened with irritation, jaw clenched and annoyance clear on his face. He let out a heavy sigh, closing his eyes to unsee it and merely laying back down on the bench. “Block them.”

You gaped. “What? No way!”

“It’s nothing but perverts with too much time on their hands,” he grunted, lifting up the bar and beginning his set. “It’ll rot your brain. Or what’s left of it, anyways.”

With a dramatic gasp, you retorted with, “Jerk. I’ll retweet and tell them you also love sucking on toes, how ‘bout that?”

Iwa paused mid-push. He eyed you from his laying position, voice dangerously low as he said, “Try it and I’ll bench press you next.”

“Hm.”

Through squinted eyes, MATTSUN briefly scanned the bright screen of Maki’s phone displaying the updated post that started circulating around their group for the past few minutes. Without much reaction, one would think he was too buzzed to be able to even comprehend it.

But he understood all too well.

‘Issei Matsukawa. 6’2ft lazy ass with a third leg. Doesn’t matter if he looks like he uses 5-and-1 body wash, he smells DELECTABLE. And don’t get me started on the gray, low-hanging joggers he usually wears around campus���He needs to be arrested walking around with a concealed weapon in those sweats—sir, put it in me AWAY. The literal embodiment of “If it slaps his thigh when he walk, I’ll listen when he talk.” The ultimate brat-tamer tbh. You can’t get under his skin, he’s so nonchalant and laid back, your attitude would just be foreplay for him (HIS FREAKY ASS). And if you think he’s already big on soft??? Bitch. Gon head and call outta work for tomorrow. 50/10.’

“Uh..congrats?” Kindaichi gave an awkward thumbs up.

Maki snickered, tongue in cheek. “Yeah, man, how’s it feel being ‘dick of the week’? They’re even givin’ it nicknames ‘nd shit.” He scrolled further into the depths of debauchery. Peering from over his shoulder to see for himself, Kunimi‘s face scrunched in mild disgust.

“Someone called it ‘The Door-Knocker’? Fucking cringe.”

“Fucking retweet.” The strawberry blonde hummed in approval. “Oo, I like this one—‘The Punisher’. That’s badass.”

Yahaba snickered only to then start choking on his drink, snatching Kyotani by the front of his shirt for support as he hacked for air. The wing-spiker merely glared, winding his hand back to beat the shit out of his back. “Ack! Kyo—fuc-! BRO STOP.”

“I’m helping.”

“You’re killing me!”

“Same thing,” he grunted.

Mattsun snorted, taking another swig of beer. After skimming through the thread, he lowly drawled out, “Cool, I guess. No big deal.”

He didn’t know much about the list, only that if you ended up on it you were pretty much an ace in the game of dick-slanging. But, he didn’t need some thirsty randoms on the internet telling him that he fucks. He had you to attest to all that, and your opinion was the only one that truly mattered. Not that either of you would kiss and tell.

His friends, on the other hand, felt otherwise. As far as they were concerned, Mattsun was a single man. And right now, he was shitting on a blessing sent from the gods. Maki halted his sip to eye his best friend, beer can lowering suspiciously. “No big deal?”

Mattsun shrugged. “t’s what I said.”

Yahaba finally caught his breath, chiming in with a winded, “Yeah right…you’re probably itching to check your DMs. Tell me ‘m wrong.”

“Ok. You’re wrong,” he replied, chugging the remainder of his beer can before crushing it. Yahaba went to argue, but Mattsun cut him off by speaking through a burp. “Don’t got the energy…to entertain someone who just wants my dick.”

“Don’t you mean, ��Door-knocker’?” Kunimi teased.

“I thought it was ‘The Punisher’..?” Watari asked, uncertain.

“I saw ‘Horse Cock’ on there.” Kindaichi grimaced.

Mattsun shook his head. “Whatever. Point is, ‘m not interested in racking up my body count anytime soon, so those DMs will just go unanswered. Hell, maybe even deleted.”

“Bullshit,” Maki challenged. He points an accusing finger. “There’s another reason. It’s ‘cause you’re already screwing around with someone, aren’t ya?”

A silence fell upon the group, all eyes instantly honing in on the taller male with metaphorical ears raised high in scandalized curiosity, some (read: Kindaichi and Yahaba) more obvious about it than others. Mattsun merely gave a halfhearted shrug, neither denying nor confirming the information. “Aha! See, see, look at ‘em, dodging the question! He’s so cuffed.”

“No shot,” Yahaba deadpanned, “mister ‘Noncommittal’ himself?”

Mattsun glared. “Oi. I commit to stuff.”

“He’s gettin’ defensive.” Kunimi pointed out with a wry grin.

“Must be true, then.” Kyotani nodded, mischievous glint in his eye.

The others hummed in agreement, theorizing about his type in partners and how there could be a potential special someone in their senior’s life, while the bastard behind it all watched smugly on the couch, sipping his drink like a gossiping old biddy. Mattsun squinted in annoyance at his best friend. “Et tu, dumbass?”

Maki raised his hands, “Hey, don’t get mad at me. You basically told on yourself. No guy in their right mind would ever pass up on that many opportunities unless he’s A) Stupid, B) Aro/Ace, or C) Spoken for. Now, my vote’s between A and C, but feel free to update me on your sexual orientation.”

Mattsun flipped him off, sporting a sarcastic expression.

His phone then began to vibrate on the table. As quickly as they looked at the former middle blocker, everyone’s gaze shot toward the offending device, then back on him; expectantly. Despite his calm exterior the brunette felt his heart-rate spike, brow twitching at the childish looks and jeers he started getting, borderline peer-pressuring him to pick it up.

After a few seconds of continuous ringing, Kunimi huffed in mild annoyance for him to, “Answer it, already.”

Maki added fuel to fire by saying, “Unless you want one of us to answer for you-” Mattsun snatched the phone off the table.

With the grace of a gorilla, he stood from the couch and quickly shuffled to the corner of the room. Answering it, he cleared his throat, face flushing at the chorus of snickers coming from behind him as he greeted you with a simple, but elated, “Hey.”

“Hey, ‘sei!”

“Hey,” he said again, breathing out a small chuckle. “Can’t sleep?”

You responded with your own chuckle. “Yeah, actually. I was wondering if you’d wanna maybe…ride around with me? I’m thinking McDonald’s. Oo! Or that wing place by campus, y’know, the one with the teriyaki flavor you liked? I think they don’t close until, like, 2am. Or…was it 1am?”

Mattsun snorted at your rambles, leaning against the wall as he let you continue. Unbeknownst to him, the guys were practically stacked on top of each other, stretching their ears to hear your voice. From what they could pick up, you sounded so upbeat, animated as you spoke. They watched in awe as their senior barely spoke but was engaged in whatever you were saying, nodding along and humming to let you know he was still listening. If he wasn’t faced the other way, they were certain they’d see a smitten expression on his face.

“Mhm.. mhm. Yeah, ‘m sure that squirrel really appreciated you sharing your almonds, baby.”

“BABY???” The group exclaimed.

The brunette jumped slightly, completely forgetting where he was for a moment there. He briefly looked over his shoulder before turning back towards the wall with a groan—Every single one of those bastards were either grinning or gaping in shock. Mattsun cursed under his breath. You made a noise of confusion.

“Are you with the guys? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt! We can totally chill another night if you-”

“Nah, was just about to leave. Think I’ve entertained these assholes long enough.” He grumbled, walking over to grab his jacket, but not before thumping Maki on the head; the latter hissed through his teeth in pain as he held the throbbing spot. “Rather be with you anyways. I’ll send the address, lemme know when you’re outside.”

“O-Oh, okay then!” You giggled, flattered. “I’ll see you soon. Love you!”

He turned back to look at the group, smug as they still watched him with disbelief painted on their faces as Mr. Non-committal was ditching them to hang with his commitment. Like he tried to tell them before, he didn’t need some thirsty randoms on the internet. He had you, and that’s more than enough.

“Love you too, [_____].” Then, he walks out. Leaving the room in even more chaos compared to when he first answered the phone, immediately on his ass as the scrambled after him for answers.

“[______]?????”

Who would’ve guessed their sweet, beloved volleyball manager from high school was the one getting visits from “The Punisher”.

Within his inner circle, MAKI is usually overlooked. He’s not popular like Oikawa, nor jacked like Iwa, and he’s doesn’t have the whole ‘sexy aloof’ vibe like Mattsun. He’s just…tall. And funny—The ‘Pete Davidson’ of the group. At least, that’s what your friends called him. Somehow, once again during your outing with them at the mall the topic of your relationship became the focal point of the conversation, stretching their brains for why you were so enamored with a guy like him.

“He gotta be packin’. Like, I’m talking anaconda.”

“Type shit. Y’know what they say about them tall and skinny ones.”

You rolled your eyes, wry smirk spreading across your face as you busied yourself sifting through a clothes rack. The conspiratorial discussion had been going on for the past ten minutes, throwing anything and everything at the wall until something stuck—Meaning, waiting for you to confirm. “[_____]. Be honest. It’s ‘cause of his dick, right?”

A lady standing on the other side of the rack gasped in shock, face twisting up in revulsion as she clutched her purse before stomping away, scandalized. You snorted, peeking over your shoulder to raise an eyebrow at them while they struggled to suppress their childish merriment at the poor woman’s embarrassment.

“Quit it before they kick us out.” You attempted to sound stern, but there was no hiding your own amusement. One friend playfully nudged you while the other began to snicker. “And no, it’s not because of that. It’s a bonus, though.”

The first gasped, then exclaimed, “So it is big!”

“’m not finna start with you,” you replied looking back at the clothes, pretending not to know them as nearby customers gave the side-eye. Neither one paid any mind as they continued to gossip. “We have this conversation every time we go out. Give it a rest.”

“Not until you tell us what you see in him.”

“I mean, I get it, but then I look at his friends and…” she hissed through her teeth, shaking her head. “I’m just saying. You fumbled.”

“I’m not taking that from someone who slept with a door dasher just because they got the restaurant to put extra sauce in your bag.”

The guilty party gaped, “It wasn’t included in their instructions, they were a real one for that!”

“Still don’t know why you did it,” the other friend sighed. “The food was cold, and I’m certain they took some of my fries.”

“Shut up, we’re not talking about my poor life choices, we’re talking about [_____]’s.”

“Fuck you,” you laughed. “You two need to get off my man. You haven’t even properly met him yet. He’s a sweetheart, he treats me like royalty, and I don’t care what y’all say, that man is fine.”

“Please. You’re just dickmatized.”

“Enough about his dick already!”

Your outburst drew the attention of a nearby employee; the store manager. Even though she wore a professional smile, you could see death in her eyes. With a nervous smile, you gave an apologetic wave before quickly grabbing your friends by their arms and escorting yourselves out before you got banned. Your closet was getting full, anyways.

“Look…I know the guys I’ve dated in the past were…questionable. But, I really like this one. And I swear the pictures I showed you don’t do him justice, his goofy ass just never sits still.”

They looked skeptical, having heard that one before. You huffed.

“Alright. How about I invite him over tonight? That way you have a chance to get to know him better. And if you’re still iffy, then…then you’ll have to get over it because you love me dearly and want me to be happy and just because you don’t think he’s attractive doesn’t mean I don’t, he is very gorgeous to me-!”

“[_____], honey, breathe.”

You stopped to inhale, then concluded with a small, “Please?”

They exchanged another look of skepticism, until the second added one condition. “He better not show up empty-handed.”

—

When the doorbell rang, the mood instantly shifted in the room, your friends going silent and gazes sharp as they looked at your door. Unbeknownst to all of you, on the other side of the door, Maki shivered, confused where that sudden chill came from. You gave them an eager, though strained, smile before scampering over to greet your awaiting guest. Upon opening the door, your smile slowly dropped at the sight of Maki sipping out of a large styrofoam cup with the words 'Big Gulp' written on it, dressed casually in sweats and a beanie, appearing very empty-handed.

After he swallowed, he gave a drawled, "Yo."

Your eye twitched. "Takehiro." He hummed, taking another sip of his drink. "Remember that important thing we discussed over the phone? Literally the only thing I asked you not to be when you got here?"

He thought about it, taking note of the daggers you were shooting at his cup. Maki made a noise of realization. "Oh, right. I bought snacks too, buuut I accidentally ate ‘em all on the way. My bad. But, look," he shook the cup, "technically still not empty-handed."

A small part of you wanted to be mad, frustrated at the least...but there was no hiding the giggle you rewarded him with, of which turned into more giggles. With sigh, you stepped forward to wrap your arms around his middle in a hug. "You’re so dumb."

"Missed you, too." He playfully rolled his eyes, returning the hug and craning his neck to kiss your forehead. The two of you stood there for a moment, just basking in each other's warmth. But, the moment was short-lived when he gave a long, exaggerated exhale through his nose before murmuring, "Ready?"

"...No." You groaned.

"Damn, do they bite or something?"

"No, they’re just...unfiltered. I love them, don't get me wrong, but they can work on your nerves to an olympic degree. You'll see once we get inside...They're gonna ask about your dick, by the way. Just ignore it."

Maki snorted, bewildered. "I'll try my best."

"Also...try not to mention that...other thing."

"What other thing?"

"You know," you raised your brows, looking over your shoulder in case they were eavesdropping before softly continuing, "that post."

It took a second, but he eventually caught on to what you meant.

‘Takehiro Hanamaki. 6’0ft shameless manslut (affectionately) who’s taken the campus by storm with his rather...interesting side hobby that pretty much has every student reaching for their wallets and switching to incognito mode on their browsers. Who would’ve guessed that lanky, low-eyed beanpole had the talent to film such erotic content and put a whole industry to shame with just his smartphone and a couple LED lights? After getting past the paywall and binging his videos (for research) it’s safe to say this man is very much a power bottom, maybe even a top depending on his mood, with a fowl mouth that’s not afraid to moan like a porn star. Best $200 I’ve ever spent (FOR RESEARCH). Highly recommend if you’re interested in having the best guided orgasm of your life—Link is in the thread! Get that bag, king. 10/10.’

A shit-eating grin stretched across his face instantly. He bounced his eyebrows, leaning down to teasingly say, "Ohh. That post. What? Don't want 'em to know how I make my living? Or, you scared they'll find out you're my number one supporter, always touching themselves just behind the camera-"

"Hiro!" You hissed, face set ablaze as you looked over your shoulder again, anxious. He found your reaction cute, using the straw in his cup to poke your cheek. You huffed at him. "I don't want them to pry. I doubt they've seen it since they go to a different uni, and I'd like to keep it that way. Okay?"

He easily shrugged. “You’re the boss.”

You exhaled, relieved. “Thank you.” You turned to head back inside, knowing your friends were just itching to bombard Maki, however you were stopped when he grabbed your arm.

“But.”

“…But?”

“I’ll let the dick-related questions slide and keep my side hustle under wraps, but you have to do something for me in exchange for my good behavior.”

You tilted your head, nervous. “Like what?”

His grinned mischievously, eyes half-mast as he used his free hand to hold your jaw, making you gasp softly when he tilted your head back. “Instead of being behind the camera in my next video…my number one supporter has to be the star.”

You rapidly blinked, heat traveling throughout your body once you registered his words. Fumbling over your own, you didn’t have time to protest when the door behind you opens wide, revealing your impatient friends. Maki let go of your jaw and settled for wrapping his arm around your shoulder, pulling you close as he waved at them with the hand that still had the large cup in it.

“‘sup.” He flashed them a sly grin. Maki took in their shocked faces, hoping they were a good sign as he introduced himself. “[_____]’s told me a lot about you guys. Hope you didn’t mind me crashing your get together.”

They absolutely did not mind.

You weren’t lying—Those pictures you showed did him dirty. Nothing could’ve prepared them for the uno reverse that was Takehiro Hanamaki. From his lax posture and cozy demeanor, sleepers build and cute smile, it’s no wonder you were drawn to him. Plus he’s funny with a big dick (allegedly)?????

After you composed yourself, still reeling from your conversation earlier, you eventually mustered up a triumphant smile at your friends as they gaped up at Maki, speechless. “So? You guys still think I fumbled?”

© 2023-2024 anisespice ッ all rights reserved. likes, comments & reblogs much appreciated!

[soulofapatrick]

Belong To Me - Cassian x female reader 

Summary: You ask Cassian to dance 

Words: 2.6K 

Warnings: none 

Y/N’s POV

The music pulses through the room, deep and hypnotic, winding around the crowd like an enchantment. On the dance floor, Eris and Nesta move in perfect, dangerous harmony. Her fierce grace matches his controlled elegance, their steps smooth and intimate, drawing every gaze in the room. But I can’t look at them for long, because my eyes find Cassian, and suddenly he’s all I can see.

He’s watching Nesta, his expression stark and unreadable, a glimmer of something raw and unguarded in his gaze. There’s a quiet intensity in his eyes, a vulnerable pull, as if every part of him is reaching for her—and the sight tightens around my heart like a vice. His jaw is clenched, fingers gripping his glass so tightly I half expect it to shatter. I’ve seen Cassian in battle, laughter in his eyes and blood on his knuckles, but I’ve never seen him like this, exposed and aching. And gods, it hurts. It hurts in a way I thought I’d prepared myself for, but the pain still surprises me, a sharp twist I can’t shake.

I glance down, swallowing against the ache. I’ve loved him quietly, fiercely, since the day I arrived in the Night Court. I was drawn to his strength, his warmth, his laugh that could fill even the darkest room. But it was the way he was with his family, his quiet, steadfast loyalty, that made me fall in love with him. He’s never known, of course. My love for him has always been a silent, patient thing, as if waiting in the shadows was enough, as if being near him was all I needed.

But tonight… something inside me snaps. I can’t keep standing on the sidelines, watching him look at someone else like she’s the only thing in the room. If he’s going to look at someone like that, even just once, I want to know what it feels like for that gaze to be on me.

Before I lose my nerve, I set my glass down and cross the room, heart pounding with a courage I can’t quite explain. I reach him just as the music swells, and my hand touches his arm, soft but sure. “Cassian,” I murmur, surprised at the gentleness in my voice. “Would you… would you like to dance?”

He blinks, surprise flashing in his eyes, as if he’s only just remembered there’s anyone else here. For a moment, he just stares, and I feel every second stretch between us, heavy and thrumming. But then, his gaze shifts, softening as he studies me, and something unreadable flickers across his face. Slowly, he sets his glass down, his hand sliding into mine, warm and solid and safe.

The world seems to fade as he guides me onto the dance floor, his touch gentle but possessive, as if he’s anchoring me here with him. His hand finds the small of my back, pulling me close, and I can feel the strength of him, the steady beat of his heart beneath the layers of armour he wears. When our eyes meet, there’s something different in his gaze, something that feels like he’s seeing me for the first time.

For these precious moments, he’s mine. The dance is a slow, deliberate rhythm, each movement drawing us closer, his touch whispering promises that I don’t dare name. His thumb strokes over my hand, soft and reverent, and my breath catches, warmth spreading through me, banishing the ache I’d felt only moments ago. I feel my heart racing, the silent hope stirring within me that maybe, just maybe, he’s starting to feel it too.

Cassian’s hand remains firm at my waist, his other gently guiding mine as we move across the dance floor, steps in perfect harmony. I can feel the eyes of the court on us, though they’re still captivated by the vision of Nesta and Eris moving like dark flames on the other side of the floor. Nesta’s gown is the colour of midnight, deep and endless, studded with faint glimmers that catch the light and make her look like she’s wrapped in stars. She’s magnetic and fierce, all shadows and starlight.

In contrast, my gown is bold and unapologetically red, the same shade as the siphons gleaming on Cassian’s armour. The fabric flows around me, as vibrant and alive as the fire that dances in his eyes, and I feel a strange thrill as I catch the way his gaze lingers. It’s like he finally sees me, really sees me, not just as the newest member of the Night Court but as someone who’s been beside him all this time, yearning for him from afar. He moves closer, and his hand on my waist shifts, his touch spreading warmth through me as we move in sync.

“Didn’t think you had it in you to pull me out here,” he murmurs, voice low and quiet, his gaze intent on mine.

“Maybe I’m just full of surprises,” I reply, my voice lighter than the intensity bubbling inside me. I manage a playful smile, but my heart’s racing, every inch of me aware of how close he is, how he’s looking at me like he’s seeing something he’s never noticed before. He smiles in return, soft and a little surprised, his hand firm on my waist as we sway together in the warm glow of the room.

Cassian’s gaze flickers to mine again, his lips curving up in a soft smile that makes me feel like we’re the only two people in the room. For a moment, I forget about the rest of the court, about Nesta and Eris and the others watching from the shadows. It’s just Cassian, his hand on my waist, his fingers warm as they guide me, strong and steady. There’s a hint of something in his eyes, something deeper than amusement, and it gives me a thrill that’s both exhilarating and terrifying.

We’re moving in perfect sync, and I wonder if he feels it too—this strange, magnetic pull between us. I’m just about to say something, to ask him if he’s felt anything different tonight, when his gaze shifts. He looks past me, toward the centre of the floor, where Nesta and Eris are still dancing, their movements sharp and intense, like they’re sharing some secret language of fire and shadow. I see the way Cassian’s expression changes as he watches them, something almost wistful crossing his face, something I can’t quite name but recognise all too well.

And then it happens—a sharp, painful tug deep in my chest, like a string I didn’t know existed has just been pulled taut, anchoring me to something I can’t see. The feeling is sudden and fierce, a rush of longing and hurt that steals the air from my lungs. I stumble forward, my hand clutching Cassian’s shoulder as I try to steady myself, feeling like I’ve been struck from within.

Cassian’s arm tightens around me, pulling me close as he steadies me, and I feel the firm press of his chest against mine, the steady beat of his heart. His gaze snaps back to me, all concern, and I see a flicker of something in his eyes—a rawness, a vulnerability that looks so achingly familiar. For a split second, it almost looks like he might cry.

“Hey,” he murmurs, voice low and rough, his hand firm and grounding at my waist. “Are you alright?”

“I… I think so,” I manage, though I don’t know if that’s true. My chest aches with something I don’t understand, and the only thing I know for certain is that I don’t want to let go of him. I don’t want to lose this moment.

Cassian’s thumb strokes gently along my waist, his touch warm and reassuring, and he looks at me with that same strange expression, like he’s on the verge of saying something he can’t quite bring himself to say. “Do you feel alright?” he asks quietly, his voice barely a whisper, his gaze searching mine with a depth that makes my heart ache.

“Yes,” I whisper, though I don’t know what I’m admitting to. I don’t know what this feeling is, this pull deep inside me, only that it feels like I’ve been connected to him in some way I can’t explain, some way I don’t yet understand.

Cassian’s eyes soften, and he watches me with something close to wonder, as if he’s seeing something he never expected to find. Cassian’s gaze lingers on mine, and for a heartbeat, it’s as if we’re suspended in a world of our own making, one where I can feel the unspoken question in his eyes, the pull that ties us together yet keeps us apart. And then, as if steeling himself, he lets go. His hand slips from my waist, the warmth of his touch fading as he turns, taking a single step away.

My heart tightens, a fierce ache blooming in my chest, a sensation so overwhelming it steals my breath. I remember something Feyre told me once about the mating bond—that it wasn’t only a connection, but a part of you that awakens, that allows you to feel the emotions of your mate as if they were your own. A bond of heart and soul, she’d called it, and it had sounded mythical, something too profound to be real. But here it is, a whisper in my chest, a raw pain that is not mine alone. It’s him. His longing, his sorrow—because he’s my mate.

The realisation shakes me to my core, and in that moment, I know with absolute certainty that I can’t let him go. I don’t want to.

Without a second thought, I step forward and reach for him, grabbing his hand before he can slip further away. His stride halts, and I tug him back, my fingers entwined with his, refusing to release him. He turns, startled, and stumbles into me, his chest brushing against mine as his hands instinctively come to my waist, steadying us both. His touch is steady and warm, grounding me, and his eyes—those deep, searching eyes—are filled with a glimmer of something that pierces through me.

His expression is vulnerable, torn open, like he’s holding his breath, waiting for the answer he never dared to hope for. My heart twists with the weight of it, of everything he’s tried to tell me with glances, touches, every unspoken word between us.

I reach up, my hands trembling as I cradle his face, feeling the heat of his skin beneath my fingertips. His breath catches, his eyes wide as he stares down at me, waiting, still and breathless. He doesn’t dare move, doesn’t dare hope—so I close the distance myself, lifting onto my toes as I press my lips to his.

The kiss is soft, hesitant at first, but the moment he realises I’m not pulling away, that I’m here and that I choose him, something within him gives way. His hands tighten on my waist, pulling me against him, his mouth pressing against mine with a tenderness that shatters me, as if he’s pouring years of restraint and unspoken devotion into this one kiss. The world falls away, and there is only this: his heart against mine, his breath mingling with mine, his lips speaking all the words he’s never said.

His thumb strokes my hip, his touch reverent, as if I’m something precious. And I feel it, the bond between us, a golden thread that pulses with life and warmth, binding us in ways I can’t yet understand but feel deep in my bones.

When we part, I keep my hands on his face, feeling the roughness of his stubbled jaw beneath my fingertips as he leans his forehead against mine, his breathing ragged, unsteady. He opens his eyes, and they’re shining with something raw and aching, and I can see a single tear slip down his cheek—a tear that holds years of longing, of hoping against hope that he would find his mate.

He whispers, his voice a low, trembling murmur, “I thought… I didn’t think you felt it too.” His words hang in the air, as fragile and vulnerable as the look in his eyes, and I feel the truth of them settle over us, heavy with the weight of all the silent years, the lingering glances, the quiet sacrifices he’d made without ever asking for anything in return. A warmth floods my chest, raw and all-consuming, and I brush my thumb over his cheek, wiping away the tear that slips free.

“I didn’t know what it was,” I murmur, my voice barely a whisper, trembling as I meet his gaze. “I didn’t know why my heart hurt whenever I looked at you. Why being close to you made everything else fall away.” My fingers trace along his jaw, and I feel him shiver under my touch, see the way his eyes darken as he takes in my words, drinking them in as if they’re everything he’s been waiting to hear.

He closes his eyes for a moment, as if steadying himself, and then he pulls me closer, his forehead resting against mine, his hands moving to cup my face, rough and calloused yet infinitely gentle. “I was ready to wait forever,” he breathes, his voice breaking over the words, low and filled with a longing so intense it steals my breath. “I would have waited forever for you to feel it, for you to choose me.”

There’s something in his voice, a tenderness I’ve never heard before, that tightens around my heart, and I know in that moment that every ache, every confused feeling, every quiet pang of jealousy was leading me here—to him.

The bond between us pulses again, a golden thread winding tighter, drawing us closer, until there is no space left between us. I close my eyes, letting the warmth of him, the strength of his presence, seep into me. I feel it in every beat of my heart, in every breath that shudders through me. He’s mine. And I’m his.

I slide my hands from his face to the back of his neck, pulling him to me as I lean up and press my lips to his once more, letting every ounce of feeling I’ve kept buried spill into that kiss. Cassian’s hands slide down to my waist, pulling me flush against him, and the kiss deepens, becoming something fierce, desperate, as if we’re both trying to make up for all the moments we could have had, if only we’d known.

When we finally break apart, we’re both breathless, our foreheads still touching, his hands cradling my face as if I’m the most precious thing in the world to him. His eyes are shining, full of wonder, as if he can’t quite believe this is real.

“I didn’t think I’d ever feel this way,” I say softly, my voice filled with awe. “I didn’t think I’d ever belong to anyone like this.”

“You belong to me,” he whispers, a fierce protectiveness colouring his words, his gaze unwavering as he looks at me with an intensity that makes my heart ache. “And I belong to you. Always.”

The words wrap around me, filling every empty part of my soul, and I know that this is it—this is home. Right here, in his arms, where I was always meant to be. And as his hands find mine, threading our fingers together, I can feel the bond between us solidify, a golden promise that no matter what comes, we’ll face it together

ACOTAR Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 12th Oct 2024

TAGS:

@lilah-asteria @maleficmuse @fanficscuziranout @angelbunny222

[charliemwrites]

Hi :)

You should not be doing this.

It rings like church bells in the back of your mind. A funeral toll for each damning decision that is killing your divinity.

Finding the ritual. Dong!

Drawing the circle. Dong!

Spilling your own golden essence over a twisting sigil. Dong!

Tongue tripping over unfamiliar vowels and consonants. A language you know but have never spoken. Dong!

“Well,” a low, rough voice drawls, “isn’t this something special.”

You close your eyes, steel your spine. Don’t give him the satisfaction of seeing your nerves. Tilt your head just enough to watch him from the corner of your eye, a dark and hulking shape. You’re almost startled by the size of him. Have never seen a demon like this before.

His horns curve back from his head, rams horns. You jolt a bit. A higher demon than you expected - than you meant to summon.

“Such a pretty thing,” he coos, stalking closer. “I haven’t eaten an angel in millennia….”

You nearly gasp as rough hands brush your wings. It almost burns. You twist, find him suddenly much closer than you thought. A massive hand captures your chin, jerks your head up to look at you this way and that.

“And here you serve yourself to me on a silver platter.”

He smirks, a hint of viciously sharp fang peeking out. You gather your courage, smack his hand away. The bracelets around your wrist chime.

“You are the one who’s here to serve,” you remind.

He moves faster than you can ever hope to match, crushing you to the wall, your wings pinned beneath you. A clawed hand is around your throat, tight enough to threaten oxygen if you needed it. Still you gasp, squirming and struggling, frightened by his strength. Why is he so much stronger than you?

“Mind yourself, dove,” he growls, eyes glowing like hot coals. “You may have summoned me, but that does not entitle you to my power.”

You grunt softly as he flicks at your halo, eyes stinging a bit. You’re unfamiliar with pain; Heaven is soft and kind.

“Please,” you manage.

His eyes narrow, a smirk turn to his lips. “That’s more like it. Now tell me, why would one of the host call upon a demon.”

“T-to make a deal.”

His eyebrows arch, but there’s a flicker of genuine fascination in his eyes now. The grip on your throat loosens a little, but he presses closer just a quickly, one burning line of inhuman muscle along your front.

“A deal…” His voice has dropped even lower somehow, rumbling in his chest. “Oh dove, you have no soul to sell. What did you plan to bargain with?”

“I-I don’t know,” you admit. The desperation that brought you here, made you do all this, yawns open inside you. “You name the price, but please.”

His laughter fills the room, genuine amusement this time. “You’ve no idea what you’re offering.”

You frown. “I do. I know… I know what it means. But what I’m asking for…”

He tilts his head. “And what are you asking for, angel?”

“There’s a man, a human man. When his mother passed I brought her soul to Heaven and she asked - she asked me to watch over her son…”

He arches his eyebrows. “You’re no guardian.”

“No,” you agree. Guardian angels are fierce and beautiful, a balance of warrior strength and guiding patience. They carry swords and shields, iron in their feathers. “But… I couldn’t deny her.”

“Let me guess, he’s slated for death now.”

“Hes a soldier.” Death then damnation. He has made himself a machine of suffering and it has charred his soul.

The demon hums with understanding. “You want me to save him.”

“From death,” you clarify, “the rest.., the rest I will try to do myself.”

The demon makes a little “ah” noise. “And so you’ll offer me anything to defy death. For one mortal?”

You can hear the disdain in his voice and it sparks your ire. The scent of ozone seeps into the room as your feathers ruffle.

“I don’t need to explain myself. Will you take the deal or not?” You demand. “I need to know if I should summon another - ah!”

You flinch as your head is wrenched back, throat exposed. Hot hair brushes the skin as he looms over you, fangs so so close.

“Your Heavenly Father didn’t bend you over his knee enough,” he snarls. “We’ll have to correct that.”

You swallow down a whimper, sense that it’s best you don’t push your luck.

“Very well, dove. You have your deal. I will keep your precious mortal alive.”

“And in exchange?” you ask.

He chuckles. “That is not for you concern yourself with.”

And then white hot pain explodes through your shoulder, fangs sunk deep into your shoulder. He moans at the taste of your blood on his tongue, hips jerking roughly against your stomach. It feels like a small eternity that he bites into you, leaving his mark. The contract of your unholy deal. His tongue laves cruelly over the marks as he pulls away. Gold drips from his chin as he grins at you.

“Fly home now, dove,” he says. “I will see you very soon.”

[fictionally-driven]

Uncovering Scars

Pairing: Jiyan x gn! reader Word count: 1130 Trigger Warnings: Injuries, Scars, implied relationship. Plot: This ask.

The infirmary was abuzz with activity, medics rushing between beds, attending to the wounded. Jiyan's heart pounded as he pushed through the chaos, his eyes scanning the room for a familiar face. He had received word that (Y/N)'s patrol had been ambushed by Tacet Discords, and the anxiety gnawing at his insides refused to abate until he saw them for himself.

Finally, he spotted them, sitting on the edge of a bed. Relief washed over him as he hurried to their side, his usually stoic demeanor cracking to reveal the worry he felt. "(Y/N)," he breathed. "Are you alright?"

“Jiyan!” (Y/N) looked up, their eyes meeting his with a reassuring smile. "I'm alright. Just a few cuts and abrasions, nothing serious."

Jiyan's keen eyes quickly assessed their state. They were indeed a bit battered, their hair disheveled and streaked with dust and grime. Small wounds and cuts marked their skin, and their armor and uniform were torn in places, evidence of the fierce battle they had faced. They were right; the injuries seemed superficial. Still, the sight of their usually composed form in such a disheveled state tugged at his heart.

"You had me worried," he said, his voice a low rumble. "When I heard about the ambush..."

(Y/N) reached out, placing their hand on his arm. "I'm okay. We fought them off and I am alright. I can patch myself up too. But the medics insisted that they examine me once.”

Jiyan's eyes softened at their touch, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. He placed his hand over theirs, his grip gentle yet firm. "I'm glad you're safe," he murmured, his gaze lingering on their face for a moment longer.

(Y/N) smiled, squeezing his arm reassuringly. "I promise, I'm alright. A bit sore, but nothing I can't handle."

Jiyan placed his hand over theirs, his touch gentle but firm. "Let them do their job," he said softly. "It's important to be thorough."

(Y/N) nodded, a small smile playing on their lips. "You always were a stickler for protocol," they teased, trying to lighten the mood.

Jiyan's eyes softened, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Someone has to be."

Jiyan's eyes roved over their injuries once more, his worry not entirely abated. His attention was drawn to their shoulder, where a significant portion of the sleeve had been ripped away, exposing a deep, jagged scar that stood out against their skin. His breath caught for a moment as he took in the sight, a multitude of questions flooding his mind. It was a mark that seemed to go beyond the exposed flesh, hinting at a story untold.

(Y/N) noticed his gaze and instinctively moved to cover the scar, their eyes flickering with discomfort and vulnerability. "It's nothing," they murmured, their voice softer, almost defensive. "Just an old wound."

Jiyan gently took their hand, stopping them from hiding the scar. "You don't have to hide it from me," he said quietly, his tone filled with understanding. "Every scar has a story, and every story is a part of who we are."

(Y/N) looked at him, their eyes searching his face for a moment before they sighed, letting their hand drop. "It's from a long time ago," they admitted. "Before I joined the Midnight Rangers. It’s not something I talk about much."

Jiyan nodded, his grip on their hand tightening just slightly in a show of silent support. "You don't have to tell me if you're not ready. Just know that I'm here, and you don't have to hide anything from me."

(Y/N) laughed softly, a tinge of self-consciousness lingering in their eyes as they attempted to dismiss the scar's significance. "It's quite ugly to look at, isn't it?" Their hand moved instinctively to cover the scar, a gesture of vulnerability Jiyan couldn't ignore. Sensing their need for security, he allowed them the comfort of concealment, his own heart aching at their discomfort.

"No," Jiyan countered gently, his voice a soothing murmur. "It's not ugly. I was just taken aback because I didn't know you'd been injured to that extent before. It must have been painful."

Drawing closer, Jiyan enveloped them in his embrace, he felt their arms encircling his waist. He could sense the tension in their body begin to ease, their form melting into his as they sought solace in his presence. It was a tender moment, one where words were unnecessary, their shared connection speaking volumes.

The infirmary noise seemed to fade into the background as they stood there, taking solace in each other's presence. (Y/N) took a few deep breaths, their head resting gently against his abdomen. The steady rhythm of Jiyan's heartbeat was a soothing reminder of his unwavering presence. "Does the scar change the way you see me?" they asked quietly, their voice tinged with uncertainty.

Jiyan's touch was gentle as he lowered himself slightly, his hand coming to rest on their shoulder. "Yes and no," he responded, his voice a comforting whisper. "I love you no matter what, and that's never going to change. The scar only deepens my respect for you because it's a mark of your strength and resilience. You have fought battles that I am unaware of in your past and you have prevailed, (Y/N). But you don't have to face your battles alone anymore. I'm here for you, always ready to listen... about anything at all, really. I am here to listen and support you by any means possible."

Looking up at him, (Y/N)'s eyes sparkled with a newfound warmth. "Even if I go on and on about fictional men that I'm obsessed with?" they teased, their smile returning in full force.

Jiyan's rare smile bloomed in response, his heart swelling with affection. Bending down further, he pressed a tender kiss against the scar, his lips brushing against their skin with the softest of touches. "Even then," he murmured against their shoulder, his breath warm against their skin. "Though I might wonder every now and then on how I can surpass these fictional men."

Their laughter filled the air, a sweet melody that danced between them, dispelling the remnants of tension and uncertainty. Resting their head against his chest, (Y/N) wrapped their arms more tightly around him, pressing closer. "You're more than enough, Jiyan."

Jiyan's heart swelled at their words. In this moment, the weight of his responsibilities and the burdens he carried felt lighter. He rested his chin atop their head, closing his eyes and savoring the peace that their embrace brought him. The world outside the infirmary walls seemed distant and unimportant compared to this moment that they shared. In each other's presence, they found a quiet strength, a reassurance that no matter what storms lay ahead, they would face them together, scars and all.

WuWa Masterlist

[bloop-bl00p]

Re-imagining the Extermination

TW: There’s like one image I could consider disturbing and such

Remember when back in the day before the series aired how the Exorcists were so hyped? They were this unavoidable threat looming over the heads of the characters, a reminder that if Charlie doesn't succeed in redemption, all of these characters will have to go years and years preparing themselves for a massacre and inevitably die a second time.

Then when we get to see them in the show a bit earlier than expected here how they act…

Maybe I hyped them too much.. I expected them to be fierce soldiers led by Michael or something.

The thing is, we don’t know what are the Exorcists yet, Adam said he named Vaggie (and probably the rest of the girls) but she’s still Salvadoran, which is really confusing. Hopefully, we’ll get more answers, my personal guess is that Viv is going to go with fan theories that they are humans. That can be interesting but if they are that doesn't explain why they thought themselves invincible.

I created something completely different, basing myself on multiple religious texts as always, I intend to make more posts about my rewrite of characters I drastically changed, and possibly one about Heaven. It’s gonna be long because I crammed a lot of information.

I. Why kill sinners?

Souls are powers, the more it sins, the stronger the 7 Deadly Sins get.

Hell started traditionally as a pit of fire and desolation, when The Seven Sins discovered they could get stronger through the humans, they completely reshaped Hell’s society and influenced Earth with the help of Hellborns.

Mammon is pretty much the reason why we live in a capitalistic society, as Greed is at the center of almost everything (The love for money is described as be Root of All Evil in the Bible.) So his influence on Earth was mirrored to create the Hellaverse we all know.

In Hell, Hellborns, rather than physically torture the Sinners, tempt and trap them in toxic lifestyles. Back in the day, Sinners could have access to the other Rings and indulge in a wide range of vices. Heaven noticed it and reacted immediately to prevent Lucifer’s rise in power and avoid a potential war. They came up with the Extermination and wisely decided to set this up at a very specific time.

You see, around the 16th century Lilith was expecting and she reached her 5 months of pregnancy for the first time in 6000 years. She was cursed by God after fleeing Eden, and all of her pregnancies usually end in miscarriage. Furthermore, she suffered ten times harder than any other woman.

So that's when they forced Lucifer to comply with their deals. He didn't want his wife to be in the middle of a war so he accepted. The deal essentially was that Angels could come to his kingdom once a year to kill as many people as possible, but if they dared to attack a Blue Blood he would bite back.

To diminish the amount of destruction that would be caused by the Exorcists all Sinners are confined to the Pride Ring as they are the main targets. But between us, if you’re a Hellborn and find yourself in the wrong place at the wrong time you’re dead.

Royalties are the only ones spared from the massacre, they picked a relatively weak type of angel to do the dirty work so the Exorcists aren’t even remotely strong enough to kill one of the 72 Lesser Keys, only lower ranks demons and sinners.

II. The Exorcists

The Watchers:

Over the few angels sent to observe humans' expansion, a considerably large amount of them have been exposed to Lucifer’s deviant ideologies and were inspired to follow The Traitor’s ideal and defy God’s plan. 200 of them put these doctrines into motion and their Heavenly Light got tainted by one sin, Lust.

They fell in love with the women on Earth and shapeshifted to marry those they lusted after, causing the birth of wicked creatures between Celestial beings and humankind, the Nephilim. Their second sin was to reveal forbidden knowledge to be viewed as deities unleashing Chaos and wars between humans (you know when we fight to know which God is stronger/real).

God put an end to this and sent Archangels who banished these 200 Watchers to Hell. To ensure that the rest of humanity wouldn’t be corrupted by their children, God flooded the Earth-saving few humans deemed as virtuous (Noah and his family weren't the only ones.)

The Watchers that remained were ripped off a considerable amount of their powers. They got disfigured to ensure the failure of any tentative seduction, and each of them is kept on a tight leash in Heaven unable to access most parts of Heaven without authorization and supervision.

The Birth of Exorcists:

Misael grew disdain for those of their kind who rebelled against the Lord as their trust and love for the Almighty was endless.

This loyalty permitted them to become the next leader of the Watcher after the betrayal of the former chief. The Watchers, alongside them, grew all bitter toward demons and their sinful siblings, a bitterness that turned into hatred for their peers.

When Misael heard the words of a possible uprising, they proposed an annual extermination as a last resort and a way for the Watchers to pay for the sins of their siblings. Which got accepted.

Few details about Misael:

→ Miseal means normally ‘As God is’ but my thought process was that Misia in Greek means ‘hate’ and they hate demons. I just added the ‘El’ syllabus of God.

→ Their voices are surprisingly soft, a bit like Blue Diamond, it almost make you forget that they are about to slice your throat open. They have this habit of reassuring sinners saying that their suffering is coming to an end.

III. Appearance:

Exorcists are lepers and constantly in pain, they were removed from their ability to shapeshift.

Today Leprosy is curable but before modern medicine, it was considered a divine punishment since they had no treatment. There are instances in the Bible where God punishes people by turning them into a leper.

They usually wear bandages to cover their face and this isn't even near how horrible their condition can get. The entirety of their body is sick and they wear large loose clothes to cover them, below the fabric they are still covered with bandages. The halo is in reference to the Crown of Thorns of Jesus, the Romans put it on his head as a form of humiliation. The Watchers used to have normal haloes but they aren't worthy of it anymore.

They are very much recognizable in Heaven as they are the only ones wearing black, to signify their loss of purity and kinda to represent their mourning for their Fallen siblings and the souls they are taking in Hell.

During the Exterminations, they wear silver masks, and Misael wears a golden one since they are the leader. They withhold close-range weapons as a reminder that they are taking lives.

The sun in the center of their armor is a reference to God (a symbol I created for my story) it’s in reference to the Morningstar trying to overcome the Sun.

I got lazy, I haven’t drawn anything in months, so I’m probably gonna re-draw this. I forgot a few details.

IV. Details

→ Each beginning of Extermination is announced by the sounds of Seven Trumpets playing at the same time.

→ They have to make the death as quick and painless as possible.

→ A list of names and ways of identification such as pictures is given to each of the Exorcists so they know who they should approach with caution. They can die, it may not be common but it’s still a possibility. Usually, they target Overlords as their activities in Hell make people sin more and more.

→ They have no right to kill anyone belonging to the Royalty, they don't have enough powers to. Any demons they encounter on the street however must be killed regardless of their status as hellborn or sinners.

→ They can affect technology, Hell has no natural light source as it’s the only place Gods do not pay attention. During the Exterminations, the electricity is completely shut down, the only source of light is the Heaven portals which disorient the sinners because it’s blinding.

→ Exorcists are killable, but usually when faced with 12-foot soldiers you back away. While they do wear armor that completely covers them if they get hurt somehow, they’ll regenerate unless it’s an angelic steel.

The only part that isn't protected is the base of their wings so with the right weapons you could cut it. Guns are also a possibility but their wings are big enough to be used as a shield (76 feet, I did the math.)

→ It’s rare but some Exorcists lose their weapons when facing sinners who fight back.

[skyloftian-nutcase]

It was supposed to have been a relaxing family trip. Zelda had promised a place for them to stay in Castle Town, and they would have had the opportunity to just see the city and not worry about selling anything or doing knightly duties.

Malon should have known better. As much as Link preferred his domestic life, adventure always seemed to find him… and he was all too eager to answer the call.

She didn’t mind going on an adventure with him, honestly. She’d kind of always wanted to. What she hadn’t wanted, though, was to drag their daughter into it as well.

Their journey to Castle Town had been interrupted by beasts, rerouting them towards the forest to the south, near Lake Hylia. It was adjacent to the Lost Woods, and Link claimed it was mostly safe - at the very least it was safer than being exposed in Hyrule Field. He hadn’t wanted to engage out in the open with Malon and Navi so vulnerable, so this had been the next best thing.

The only issue was that Link was injured. And ill on top of it - he’d been coming down with something but had insisted on the family still going to Castle Town, outwitting Malon’s arguments by saying Well this is a vacation, darling, it’ll be restful!

Sighing, Malon leaned against a tree, her daughter nestled safely in her arms. Restful was not the word she’d use for this.

“We outran them,” Link noted as he watched behind them, pacing. With each step he took he faltered, steadily developing a limp.

“Honey, you can’t fight like this,” Malon said worriedly. “We should just stay here until they go away.”

“They might try to look for us,” Link argued. “Besides, the woods aren’t the safest either. It’s just that nothing’s going to go out of its way to attack us. But we can’t stay here.”

“You’re hurt,” Malon reiterated, pointing to the blood on his leg. She’d already wrapped the wound, insisting on taking care of it as soon as possible, but that didn’t mean it was all better now. She really wished they’d packed some milk - of all the times for them to be lacking their own product!

Link sighed heavily, sitting on the forest floor. His brow was furrowed deeply, holding that scowl he used to when worries plagued his mind. Malon reached over to put a reassuring hand on his shoulder, but to be honest she wasn’t much less anxious. This entire situation was a disaster, and she was frankly starting to get scared.

Link watched her a moment and then looked down. He was definitely deliberating something specific now, based on the way his eyes moved back and forth, one argument clashing with another in some kind of internal debate.

“What is it?” Malon asked.

“Nothing,” Link answered, shaking his head. “Can you do me a favor?”

Malon perked up in an instant, eager to help. “Of course, darling.”

“Can you help me get this boot off?”

Malon glanced at his injured leg and nodded. First, she looped a sling around her to let Navi rest while freeing her arms up. As she bent down to gingerly assist Link, suspicion tickled at the back of her brain. Link rarely asked for help - the man triaged himself by situation, not injury. Out in the field he would write off a broken bone as an inconvenience, but in the safety of their home a cold was the deadliest disease on earth.

But this situation wasn’t safe. Why was he suddenly so compliant? What was he up to?

Malon was about to ask as she reached for the boot, when a bright light flashed, warmth filled the air, and Link jerked with a muffled yell. Malon gasped, rising to her feet and grabbing the nearest stick as a weapon, eyes wide as she looked for whatever had hurt her husband, when—

When two glowing eyes looked back at her.

Malon stared. And then it clicked. “What are you doing out here?! Why, that idiotic husband of mine, take that off right now and I’ll punch him myself—“

The Fierce Deity hastily stood, taking three steps back as Malon charged at him. “This wasn’t of my volition.”

“You both know that mask hurts him, why is he putting it on when he’s sick and injured already—“

Navi burst into tears, upset by the racket. Malon paused from her tirade only due to such desperate circumstances, shushing her daughter and rocking her gently while glaring daggers at the deity.

“Perhaps he didn’t think he could protect you in his current state,” Fierce offered.

“That’s ridiculous!” Malon denied even as her mind screamed in agreement with Fierce. She herself had just been saying it.

But—but—oh, that husband of hers! He was getting the lecture of his life when he took that mask off!

A twig nearby snapped, and the deity had his blade out in an instant. Malon tried to calm Navi, who was still greatly perturbed, and she let the mythical being take the lead. He quickly rooted out the source of the noise. Malon had to admit she certainly felt safe watching the demigod dispatch the beasts with so much ease it might as well have been a joke.

When the danger had passed, she quietly asked, “Can you even feel the injury he had?”

The Fierce Deity glanced at her, and he tested the affected extremity. “A little, yes. I know he hurt it.”

“Things just… don’t hurt you, do they?” Malon huffed, marveling a little at it. Perhaps that was why Link had chosen to let him take over - nothing could slow him down.

The deity blinked, head tilting down as if he were considering it. “They do.”

He didn’t elaborate, and somehow that made the words all the heavier. Malon watched him a moment in silence, Navi finally calm in her arms. Then she sighed, finding a fallen tree to sit on, and she pat the space beside her invitingly. As she waited for the deity to approach, she started humming Epona’s song while rocking Navi back and forth.

Fierce slowly made his way over to her, sitting with such care it was as if he was approaching a frightened animal. Malon didn’t think too much into it - she knew his focus was on her daughter. She continued to sway gently, beaming down at her baby girl. Navi was calm, resting once more. Not for the first time, Malon had to marvel at the little one. She was perfect and beautiful.

And now she was safe.

Sighing, Malon said quietly. “Thank you.”

Fierce smiled softly. “Protection is my sworn duty. But more than duty, it is always a pleasure to protect Link’s family.”

Malon mirrored his smile, resuming her humming for a little while. Eventually, the deity commented, “She’s gotten bigger since you showed her to me.”

“That was six months ago,” Malon giggled. “Of course she’s gotten bigger.”

“I… do not know how quickly mortals grow,” Fierce noted a little uncertainly. “I've ascertained that the little Hero's journey wasn't exactly traditional. How long will she be this helpless?”

“Don’t you worry about her,” Malon chided gently with a chuckle. She knew that concerned tone and expression anywhere - it was still her husband’s face, even if the mask’s magic distorted it to share the deity's spirit. The two worried all the same. It was honestly kind of cute. “Link and I can take care of her.”

The deity continued to watch her daughter, face softening.

“Now don’t you tell me you don’t think we’re up to the task,” Malon teased, elbowing him.

He straightened a little, a smile pulling at his lips. “I remember little of my time before this mask, but I do recall that a mother’s love and protection is far fiercer than I could ever be.”

Malon felt a swell of pride in her chest, and she giggled. “Aw honey, look at you buttering me up. That won’t save you.”

Fierce blinked. “From what?”

“From eating,” Malon insisted, pulling out some biscuits that had been wrapped up for the journey. “Link needs it, and you don’t get to eat that much. My daddy always said my cookin’ was fit for a god, so I guess it’s time to test that.”

She actually managed to pull a laugh out of Fierce with that one, and it filled the air with mirth and magic. Malon felt like she'd just accomplished some grand quest like Link did on his journeys, and she laughed with him. Fierce eventually took the biscuits, sniffing them hesitantly.

Malon raised an eyebrow at him, but the gesture was lost upon the mysterious being. He took a laughably small bite, testing it, and then sighed, closing his eyes.

"You alright?" Malon asked quietly, trying to parse out the gesture. In most it would be a sign of appreciation, but Fierce's mannerisms didn't always match the norm.

"Six months," the deity said quietly before taking another bite. "It's such a short time."

"It certainly has flown by," Malon muttered, looking down at her baby. Navi had grown so much. She wanted nothing more than for time to stop. It was pretty ironic considering who she was married to. But his magic over time, as fantastical as it was, would be a curse in this situation. No, Malon didn't want to live the same days over and over as she herself grew old. She just wanted to cherish the time she had as much as possible.

Some days she did wish she could slow it down, though.

She kissed her daughter's soft head, taking in the scent of her skin, so new and unblemished, naïve to the worries lines her parents bore. Navi was her entire world, and she couldn't imagine it any other way.

"I suppose mortals do grow up quite quickly."

Malon nuzzled her baby girl a little more before looking up at the deity. He seemed very sad and alone all of a sudden, biscuit forgotten in his hand as it rested on his lap.

"Oh honey," she cooed gently, shifting closer to him. "All that means is we treasure what we do have."

Fierce watched her, his brow heavy over his eyes, a weight pushing on his shoulders. Malon tried reading into it, trying to figure out what was leaving the sweet mysterious man so perturbed. She supposed it was fairly obvious, though.

He would outlive them all. They both knew it. But that didn't mean—

Oh.

He didn't think he would have a chance to treasure such moments. How could he? He was locked away in a mask, only touching reality when worn. And Link had no reason to wear it.

Well, that just wouldn't do. They had to figure something out. Malon didn't wish the pain of that mask on her husband, but she didn't wish the loneliness of its imprisonment on Fierce.

"We have right now," she reasoned, trying to give him the most sincere smile she could. "Come on, love. Take your armor off and relax. As long as you're eating and resting, I reckon it'll be okay for a little bit, at least."

"You three were going somewhere," Fierce noted. "I should clear the road and escort you there safely."

"Maybe so," Malon replied. "But you're going to finish eating first."

He complied, finishing the biscuit before being handed another. After having several snacks from the provisions the family had packed, Malon and Fierce rose together. His gaze seemed to settle on Navi, and Malon held her out carefully, nodding in encouragement to the tall being.

Gently, oh so gently, Fierce took the baby in his arms. Instinctively, he swayed on his feet, eyes never leaving her face. Malon's heart warmed at the sight of it.

“Sometimes, I just wonder,” Malon remarked as she watched him. “You’re so… compassionate, and kind. They claim you're a war god, but you're really not. You love children so much. Surely… I think you might’ve had some, you know? Back then and all.”

Fierce watched her in silence before he tilted his head to the side with a smile, returning Navi to her mother. “I do have children.”

Malon jumped, surprised. “You do?”

“Yes,” the deity hummed quietly, a deep, rumbling sound that was nearly akin to purring. “And I’m very proud of both you.”

The words settled over her a moment before sinking in, and she knew she had to look like a deer caught in lantern light. The deity’s smile grew, almost as if teasing, but she knew he was being genuine. And she… felt almost at a loss for words by it. Her throat tightened a hair before she laughed, stepping towards him and pulling him into a hug. “Oh, you. You’re just as bad as Link.”

The Fierce Deity stood there stiffly a moment, clearly caught off guard by the contact, but slowly, he settled into the embrace. His hands were warm on Malon’s back as he pulled her closer, careful not to hurt Navi between them. His breath warmed her hair at the top of her head, and Malon nuzzled against his chest a little.

Silence hung amicably in the air, a pleasant comfort and warmth like a hearth ablaze with a cheery fire. Slowly, fairies came out of hiding, dancing and twinkling in the shadows and bringing a glow to the forest like the pink hues of a sunrise.

The supposed god of war knew peace, and Malon held this moment in her heart forevermore.

[corpsebasil]

The Prince’s Whore Part 2 18+

Part 1 ——-> here

You sipped from your vodka soda, watching as Nikolai approached you from across the tavern, making his way to your side. He either didn’t notice or didn’t care—most likely the latter—when several people openly stared in surprise to see the prince being so casually in attendance. You raised a brow when he made it to your side, squeezing a lime wedge into your drink before dropping it in.

“Thank you.” You told him, glancing away as he leaned against the wall to your right. You didn’t want to address the fact that he knew exactly how you liked your drinks, or why that made something in you feel a bit soft. “How are you?”

“Perfect, now that I’m with you.” He muttered, scanning the crowd. “Found anyone to tangle with tonight?” His voice dropped lower. “Someone to tear that dress off?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

“I would.” He grinned and bumped your arm with his, jostling you into looking over at him. “Speaking of that dress. Did someone pour you into it? Saints.”

You glanced down.

It was true, the tight black fabric that ended mid-thigh was sinfully draped over your body, exposing every dip and curve of your hips and waist. Nikolai wasn’t the first to have noticed—you saw a man eyeing you as he and his friend walked past, your stare turning purposely sultry, but his words he whispered none too softly made your face turn red.

“The Prince’s Whore.” He muttered, giving you an up-down that wasn’t anything close to admiring. “Pretty brave of them to show up together in public. Makes a mockery of the crown.”

You opened your mouth, ready to tear into him, but Nikolai had already peeled off the wall and stepped forward. The man had a brief second to look apologetic before the Prince’s fist slammed into his head, knocking him backwards and onto the ground. The man’s friend backed up, sputtering apologies, and Nikolai shook his hand out with a wince before walking back to you.

You could only stare, taking a lofty sip of your drink, as those fierce blue eyes met yours and he cast one more glare over his shoulders. You didn’t want to admit it, but…that was incredibly sexy. You cursed yourself for thinking it, but your eyes still strayed to his hands, remembering how recently they’d—

“Bastards,” he grumbled, rubbing his knuckles as he interrupted your filthy thoughts. “you’d think they’d have more decorum when I’m standing right here.”

“You—” you swallowed, still staring as your skin warmed. “what the hell did you do that for? I can defend myself.”

“But it’s so much more fun when you let me do it, darling.”

“Oh god.” You groaned, rolling your eyes.

“I love it when you make that sound.”

You shot the prince an annoyed look as he grinned down at you, reaching out to play with the strap of your dress. He looked at you like he always did, admiringly, but something softer in his gaze made your guard go right up. You didn’t like this—didn’t like the rush of warmth that had spread through you when he hit the man who called you a whore. Didn’t like the way he was gazing as you now, eyes scanning your face like you were the prettiest thing he’d ever seen.

“I’m doing a customer scan.” You informed him, looking away from that maddeningly handsome face. “Try not to punch anyone else.”

“My lady, where your honor is concerned, I make no promises.”

“Saints save me.” You grumbled under your breath, shoving your empty drink into his hand and ignoring his dark laugh as you pushed your way into the crowd.

You swayed your hips invitingly, eyes roving around the press of people, searching for a willing customer. It was always the same—approach or be approached, then the inevitable venturing into someone’s bed. For the past few months you’d been low on customers, preferring, to your chagrin, the press of a certain someone’s hands to your body instead of a stranger’s. But this was your trade, your craft, and you soon saw a boy in the distance who’s sparkling smile caught your attention.

He laughed at something the person he was talking to said, then looked over, his eyes meeting yours as if by chance. His approving up-down was quick and his face flushed with color, looking away then back as you approached him. He whispered something to his friend and moved towards you, cutting through the crowd.

“Hi,” you greeted him, holding a hand out for him to take. “I’m Y/N. I couldn’t help but notice your smile.”

“Hard not to notice pretty much everything about you.” He laughed, and damn you if he wasn’t cute as hell. He seemed like the kind of guy you might’ve dated back before you took up your current lifestyle. “Ethan. Nice to meet you.” He dropped a kiss onto the back of your hand and you blushed involuntarily.

“Where are you from E—” you stopped, watching as his eyes widened, gaze locked on something behind you. And when you turned, you saw Nikolai ordering a fresh drink at the bar, laughing over something the bartender was saying. “Ethan?”

“Sorry, I um—” he glanced at the floor, then back up. “You’re absolutely lovely, Y/N. But I’d love to leave this place with my head on my shoulders, so I’m gonna…” he pointed awkwardly back at his friends and you scowled.

“What does that mean?” When he paused, you pushed. “Ethan?”

“It’s um…pretty much guaranteed that if I hit on you or even try going home with you, the prince will kill me.”

“What?” Your head whipped around as your eyes shot daggers at the prince. He was still chatting away, and somehow you knew that he was completely aware of the current exchange and was unworried. “Did he say something to anyone?”

“Yeah uh, he pretty much spread word that if someone tries to touch you they’re dead.” Then he shrugged, face softening. “You’re gorgeous. And dating a prince seems like exactly what someone as pretty as you deserves.”

“We’re not dating—I’m—“ you closed your eyes and then smiled tightly. “Thank you. For being so nice. Have a good night.”

“You too.”

You turned on your heel and walked slowly back through the crowd, suddenly realizing how many men and women were eyeing you and then looking away like you were a walking death sentence. When you made it to Nikolai’s side you slid an arm around his waist, under his jacket, so that your hand that was now out of sight from onlookers could dig sharp nails into his ribs.

He grunted and then coughed, turning a pleasant little smile towards you.

“Y/N, darling.” He said, eyes gleaming with both pain and amusement. “Did you make a friend? Braid each other’s hair?”

You used your free hand to pick up his glass of whiskey and knock it back, then reached for the vodka soda he’d ordered for you. The sight of the lime already inside annoyed you more than warmed you, and you sucked half the drink down in one go before speaking.

“If you ever,” you started, voice dripping with honey and venom. “interfere with my work again, I’ll kill you.”

“And I’ll kill every man who has the audacity to look at you in that dress for more than five seconds.” He shot a look at someone behind you, proving his point, and you dug your nails in harder. Gods above, he was pure muscle. It was like squeezing a boulder. “Careful, love, if you want to kiss me later don’t injure me first.”

“I don’t want anything to do with you.” You hissed, voice low and serious. His smile faltered and you pushed on, pulling away from him. “Nothing. Leave. Me. Alone.” You finished your drink and whirled, headed towards the door. And to your surprise, though you’d asked, he didn’t follow.

—

You took the long way home, walking slowly, letting the night air soothe your anger. You felt guilty every time you thought of Nikolai. For months now, months, you hadn’t had anyone in your bed but him. You’d settled for inns and homes, even the occasional alleyway, to your disgust, but no one in your own apartment. No one in your shower. No one sleeping beside you.

And so you walked, rubbing your arms, and when you turned the corner onto your street you stopped dead in your tracks. Nikolai sat on the front step of your apartment building, chin propped on a hand as he stared dully out at something in the distance. At the sound of your resuming footsteps he looked up, apology written all over his face.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I had no right to—” He paused when you held up a hand, brushing past him to unlock the door and move to the stairway.

He trailed after you quietly, his shallow breaths the only other sound besides your footsteps, and watched somberly as you unlocked your apartment and moved inside. When he stood there, unmoving, you let out a sigh.

“Are you coming inside, Nik?”

Something like hope crossed his face as he followed you, watching again as you shut the door behind him and locked up. Your heels clicked as you walked to the bathroom, washing your hands and undoing the pins in your hair, letting it fall around your shoulders.

“Make me a drink, will you?” You called out to him, then smeared your favorite lip-balm over your mouth. You’d been biting your lip during your walk, stressing over what you’d said to him and what it meant for the two of you.

He poured, and you walked out to find him with his jacket off, the top few buttons of his shirt undone. He’d pushed his sleeves up over his elbows and—Saints have mercy. His arms. You blinked once and looked away quickly, unwilling to be distracted.

“I didn’t mean what I said.” You admitted, swallowing as a sense of awkwardness washed over you. He wasn’t your friend; what did it matter if you’d hurt his feelings? “I just didn’t appreciate you stopping me from doing my job.”

“I understand.” He said, tone flat and void of any sort of emotion. He handed you a glass tumbler of whiskey and took a sip from his own, leaning against the wall to look at you. “I’ll leave you alone, after tonight. If that’s what you want.”

“It’s not—” you felt frustrated all of a sudden, a feeling of odd desperation crawling through you. “it’s not what I want.”

“Then what do you want, Y/N?” He asked, still looking at you in that insufferably calm way. You set your drink down after a long sip, your fingers trembling a bit as he moved forward. “Because I know what I want.”

“And what’s that?” Your voice was practically inaudible, your breath catching when he took your face in a hand, fingers sliding behind your neck and into your hair.

“I want you.” He said, completely serious, and the laugh that bubbled out of you was hardly a laugh at all. Especially when he bent his head and kissed you, pulling you into him, his mouth soft and gentle and absolutely perfect.

Your heart dropped so abruptly into your stomach you gasped, reaching out to clutch at his shirt. The feel of him—and then smell of his cologne—your head was spinning, and you weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or him or both.

“Let me get you out of that dress.” He whispered, moving to kiss your jaw, then neck, your head tipping backwards. You were practically panting, feeling so hot you thought you’d faint, when his hand slipped behind you and slid the zipper of your dress down.

He tugged it up slowly, hands sliding under the hem and bringing it with him, his hands grazing your skin as he went. Over your hips, then your stomach, then—

When it was over your head he dropped it onto the floor, kissing your mouth again once as he stared down reverently at your body. You’d gone braless out of necessity and his eyes drank you in, his stare so heated you felt the impact like a brand.

“Sit.” He told you and, like a godsdammned dog, you did. And when Nikolai knelt between your legs, you had a flashback of the shower so intense that an ache began between your thighs. “You’re so beautiful.” He sighed, tugging off one heel, then the other. His lips kissed your calf, his mouth moving up your leg. “I want you to be mine, Y/N.”

“That’s insane.” You managed to say, and the sharp nip he gave to your inner thigh made you gasp.

“Why?” He questioned against your skin, his fingers tugging your underwear down and over your hips.

“You’re a prince.” You closed your eyes, trying not to let out a ridiculous moan when his teeth grazed, then he kissed, your hip. “You can’t be with me.”

“I can be with whoever I wish. My title doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it does.” You opened your eyes, and the sight of his mouth so close to—you shut them again, unable to have this conversation with him when he looked so damn needy. “Even if you could, we aren’t friends, Nik. We’ve never been friends, so what makes you think I want a relationship with you?”

“You always insist on that.” He sighed, breath warm against your inner thighs. “And yet I cannot stop loving you anyways.”

Your heart stopped.

When he looked up at you, blue eyes soft and filled with—oh gods. He couldn’t be serious.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” You spat, shifting and crawling farther up the bed away from him. You grabbed a blanket and covered yourself, glaring as he stood and sat on the edge of the bed.

“I’ve never been more serious.” His voice was so calm, so gentle, you—no. No. “How can I prove it to you?”

“You’re insane Nik. You’ve lost your damn mind.”

“I will beg for you, if you wish it.”

“Nikolai, stop. You’re absolutely insane and I do not love you.”

“Please Y/N.” His breath caught as his brows furrowed, an injured look on his face. “I will humble myself at your feet if it will satisfy you. I have cared for you for so long and—and if you truly do not love me, even a bit, I will go.” His eyes left yours, scanning the apartment as if memorizing it, then moved back to your face. “If even the possibility of loving me is…insane to you, then I will leave. But I cannot keep loving you and sharing your bed when you don’t feel the same. It’s killing me.”

Your mouth was dry, something cleaving in your chest as you looked at him. You looked at your prince, at the only man you’d allowed in your bed, the man you’d brushed your damn teeth with, the man who squeezed lime into your drinks and defended you when you were insulted. And something tightened in you further when he nodded once and stood, headed for his coat.

“Nikolai, wait.” You could hardly breathe as he turned his head, something like pain written across his features. “I do—I—” Saints, where were your words? “I want you. To stay. Please.”

A soft laugh left him, a sound of pure relief, and you watched with a strangely warm, desperate feeling inside you as he made his way to the bed, moving beside you. He tugged the blanket off you and bent his head to kiss the curve of your knee, watching as you propped yourself on your elbows and stared at him.

“You look a bit like you want to attack me, right now.” He informed you, using his grip on your legs to pull you closer.

You kind of did want to attack him. Especially when he unbuttoned the rest of his shirt and removed it, every inch of his chest and—gods those abs—on display.

“Saints.” You muttered, then let out a sigh when he bent his head, his mouth kissing your stomach and naval.

“They’re not here, love.” He chuckled, sarcastic bastard that he was, and you opened your mouth to sass him when he licked you long and appreciatively.

A moan left your mouth as he kissed and sucked at your center, your hands gripping his hair like a lifeline. When he lifted your hips higher for him and slid two fingers in deep, you could’ve swore the only word left in your vocabulary was his name as you gasped it over and over.

But when he stopped you lifted your head, turned on and annoyed and absolutely burning for him.

“Why’d you—” you stopped when he took off his pants, then reached for you, lifting you and laying you down against your pillows. “Nikolai.” You sighed against him when he kissed you, his tongue brushing into your mouth, and the feel of him made you writhe beneath his body.

“Say you’re mine.” He whispered, then licked into your mouth again, and you keened his name, his hands a bruising force against your hips. “Y/N.”

“Yours.” You gasped, feeling the first brush of him against your center. Gods you were about to explode. “Yours, Nik.”

And when he pushed inside, slowly, letting you feel every godsdammned inch of him as he pressed in deeper, your heart dropped into your stomach and your eyes squeezed shut. His hand brushed your face as he kissed your forehead softly, arms settling to frame your head.

You gripped his back, running your hands down it and scratching lightly when he moved, so agonizingly slow, the inside of you aching where your bodies met. He let out a ragged laugh near your ear and the sound wound you up even tighter.

“Don’t squeeze me so hard or this will be over embarrassingly fast, my love.” He murmured, kissing your nose, then your mouth. And you forced yourself to relax.

My love. You didn’t think you’d ever been so warm in your life, not when he pulled out and then pushed back in, shallow, slow thrusts he made as he lazily rolled his hips against yours. He felt so—oh. Oh.

“You feel so good, sweetheart.” He whispered, his voice strained. You pushed your hips into his, needing more.

“Please, Nik.” You gasped, taking his face in your hands as you pressed a desperate kiss against his mouth.

And so he picked up his pace, and soon he was fucking you so hard into the mattress that you can hardly breathe—could hardly think—especially when his fingers slipped between you and began to rub the sensitive bud right above where he thrust into you.

“Nik. Nik.” You moaned, gripping him as tightly as you could, and cried out when he bit and then kissed your neck carefully.

“I love it when you say my name.” He told you, licking the offending area he’d just nipped, and you came. Hard.

A choked gasp left your mouth as a jolt ran through you, your face turning to press against the pillows as he came with you, a low moan against your shoulder bringing you so quickly back to arousal it startled you. He continued to move lazily as he slowed, you still fighting for breath, when he cradled your face in his hands and brushed a piece of hair away from your eyes.

“I’m going to make love to you so many times you’ll forget there was ever another man inside you.” He said, as simply as if he was telling you the weather, as his eyes studied the bruise appearing on your neck. He smirked and leaned down to kiss it, making your body arch involuntarily into him.

“I want that.” You breathed, still gripping him hard, and he bent his head lower, moving down your body, his mouth closing over a sensitive breast.

“Whatever you want,” he murmured against your skin. “I’ll give you. The world. A crown.”

You tried not to think about everything his words implied, not when his mouth reached your naval, then lower, and he started working his mouth against you, again.

Helloooo good lord ladies I have truly mastered the nasty

Like and reblog for more!!

[evilfloralfoolery]

Daggers and Deception - Part III

The two neighbors meet. Neither is what the other expects. ___________________________

Indigo adds a bit more tea to a second infuser and grabs the kettle full of water.  Surely the other man has mugs.  His own quarters are well-furnished in this aspect.  

After pausing to stuff another handkerchief or two into his pocket, he exits the room and walks into the hallway.  As promised, the door beside his own is wide open in invitation.  He hesitates only a moment before stepping across the threshold, rapping his knuckles against the wood.

"It's your neighbor calling,"  he says.

Heavy, booted footsteps from the kitchen.  "In here." 

The man's voice is a deep, rumbling growl of sound even more nuanced than Indigo imagined.  Low and soft, with the potential for menace or gentility in equal measure.  He pads across the creaking wooden floors, the heels of his shoes tapping upon the slats.

He halts with a short, barely audible gasp.  His neighbor is a shirtless tower of muscle and ink, broad shoulders nearly twice the width of Indigo's own, sprawling, intricate tattoos covering not only his back, but his arms as well.  Dark hair rests just past his shoulders in casual disarray, the strap of a sling crossing his back, a pad of gauze taped near his shoulder blade.

He glances over one shoulder before turning to face Indigo full-on and Indigo must keep the facade of his placid demeanor firmly in place.  

"Hey," he says.

Indigo wets his lips and commands his voice to obey.

"Good afternoon," he says a bit too formally.

The topmost portion of the man's hair is pulled away in haphazard ponytail, exposing the chiseled line of his jaw which is peppered with a short beard that is more stubble than hair.  But it is the eyes that truly capture Indigo's attention, a dark cognac hue that observes him with a fierce intelligence and calculation so intense that he nearly takes a step back.

"You can set that wherever," the man says, nodding towards the kettle.  "I'm sure I've got mugs in here somewhere."

Indigo sets the kettle upon the nearest burner and extends a hand to his neighbor.  "Indigo," he says.

Calloused fingers slide into a firm but gentle grip to meet his own.  "Grimm," he says.  "Nice to put a face to the piano playing."

"Oh, dear," Indigo says.  "I do hope I did not keep you awake at all hours of the night.  I hadn't any idea the walls were so thin."

"Nah," Grimm says.  "The opposite, actually.  Couldn't sleep.  Listening to you helped."  A hint of smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth.  "When you weren't sneezing your ass off."

Indigo laughs a bit self-consciously.  "Yes, well.  I seem to have been blind-sided by nature.  We haven't such abundant plant life in the city limits." 

"Hmn."  Grimm glances out of the kitchen window.  "It's kinda nice.  You know, if it wasn't so damn quiet." 

He reaches for the cabinet door and Indigo does not miss the slight wince that accompanies the gesture.  So, this explained it, then.  Clearly, the man was suffering from a rather painful injury if reaching for something with his good arm was that difficult.

"Please, allow me," Indigo says.  "After all, I am the one who offered."

Grimm steps aside without comment and Indigo rifles through the cabinet for a moment before coming away with two mugs, neither of which coordinate with the other, much to his chagrin.  And amusement.

"Well, then," he says.  "Do you prefer Christmas from 1982 or Mother of the Year?"

A low chuckle.  "You should take a look at the bowls."

Indigo snorts.  "I believe I shall spare myself the indignity." 

The dark bass of Grimm's voice is marred by something thicker, an edge of congestion from. . .

Well, certainly not the gratuitous floral nonsense weaving itself into every possible corner of the estate.  

No, this is something else.  The first dregs of some manner of illness.

Oh.  Oh no. 

“Wanna sit?”

Indigo snaps out of his overly analytical train of thought. 

“Yes, thank you.”

After removing the infuser, he pours the other man a generous serving of the steaming liquid before tending to himself.

The behemoth of a man sinks down into the nearest chair, the slow unfurling of his limbs in an almost indecent sprawl, accompanied by a low groan of what could be either relief or pain. 

"Sorry about my half-naked bullshit," he says.  "Hard to put a shirt on with all this crap."  He nods towards his bandaged shoulder before taking a sip of his tea, a strange, almost genteel gesture that belies his impressive stature.  "Hmm, this is good shit.  What is it?"

"Jasmine green," Indigo says. "A favorite of mine."  He pauses with an abrupt stiffening of his spine and sets the mug down upon the end  table in a haste, fumbling to jerk the handkerchief free of his pocket just in time to muffle a harsh “--EKTSSCHiih!”  Or two.  Three.  Great gods. 

"Hmmn."  Grimm arches an eyebrow.  "Maybe you shouldn't be drinking shit with flowers in it, buddy." 

Indigo dabs at his eye with a chuckle.  "Do excuse me," he says. 

"Yeah, yeah."  Grimm shrugs his good shoulder, flicking his gaze to the couch where Indigo sits and squints.  "Been doin’ a little of that myself. Dusty shit in here.” 

A quick glance around the dated-yet-pristine room attests otherwise.

What a curious form of denial.

They sip their tea in silence for a moment before his neighbor puts down the now-empty cup and regards him with a slight lift of his head, fingers tugging through a ruffled section of his dark hair.

"So," he says.  "What are you in for?"

"In for?" 

Grimm gestures to the room.  "You didn't come here for a fucking vacation." 

"Mmm, and what if I did just that?"  Indigo says.

"I'd say you're lyin'.” 

Indigo chuckles.  How delightfully direct.  A pleasant change from overly saccharine formalities and such.

"It's a bit of professional burnout, I'm afraid," Indigo explains.  "I was ordered by my employer to take a rest, although I'm not certain as to why he insisted upon this place in particular.  Seems to be quite the odd choice."

"Hmph, tell me about it."  Grimm scratches at the strap across his shoulder and brushes a stray strand of hair away from his eyes.  Sniffles almost liquidly.  Clears his throat. "So, what's the burnout?  If you can't talk about it or some shit--"

"Oh, no," Indigo interrupts with a wave of his hand.  "It's quite uninteresting, really."  He crosses one leg over the other and sits up a bit straighter.  "I am the editor-in-chief at a leading publishing house.  Apparently, I've run myself a bit ragged keeping up with the literary whims of a rather troublesome young writer."

"Huh."  Grimm rubs at the fuzz on his chin again, an absently thoughtful gesture.  "Didn't think book editing could make you crazy enough for the nature nut house."

Indigo suppresses a snort of amusement into a cupped hand.  "And you?"

Grimm leans back in the chair.  “I got shot," he says. 

So matter-of-fact.  Blunt.  As if such a thing were a mere occupational hazard.  And perhaps it was.

"Shot?" Indigo repeats.

"Yeah," Grimm says.  "Tried to stop some guy from shooting a client.  Guess he got mad about it."  He shrugs his good shoulder.  "Ain't  the first time." 

"The first time being shot or the first time you've angered a man with a gun?" Indigo asks with as much polite decorum as possible.

Those striking eyes fix him with a stare that is somehow both casual and frank.  "Both."

It is, of course, at this point that his tea companion loses his rather iron-clad grip on his physical composure, his expression dissolving into a helplessness that is so contrary to stern assessment, Indigo has to fight to keep his own composure casual.

“---hhh-huuh! UHCHISSSH!” Grimm makes a rather poor attempt at ducking into the crook of his uninjured elbow.  

He straightens with a soft hiss of an inhalation, lips thinning into a slight grimace.  “Sorry. Don’t know what my problem is.” 

Indigo certainly does. He also does not miss the fine trickle of sweat the ebbs down the side of Grimm’s neck, losing itself in his hair before it can travel further.

“No apology necessary.”  Indigo waves his hand again in a dismissive gesture. "Have they given you nothing for the pain, then?"

A wry, almost huff of a laugh.  "They gave me something. I just ain't taking it." 

"And why not?"  Indigo asks.

Grimm shifts in his chair in an effort to better accommodate whatever discomfort might be plaguing him.  "I don't wanna be groggy and out of it," he says.  "Gotta be alert in this field."

"Yes, well." Indigo adjusts his spectacles with the push of a finger.  "I can certainly understand the need for vigilance, but given your current location, perhaps a bit of relaxation is not only allowed, but expected."

"I don't know how to do that," Grimm says.  "Sending me out here isn't gonna make a damn bit of difference."

Indigo could see that.  Here was a man who appeared to enjoy a casual conversation with a stranger, but the calculated assessment of his stare attested otherwise.  Every movement, every breath, every flicker of emotional content was being cataloged, observed, and graded for appropriateness of response.  Even now, his gaze has shifted to the folded handkerchief that rests upon Indigo's lap a moment before Indigo's sinuses prickle, forcing another muffled “MmphKTSCH!”

"Gods," he mumbles.  "Do excuse me."

"Damn," Grimm says when he gives a repeat performance.  "So, you know there's a nurse or caretaker or whatever somewhere, right?  Pretty sure she'd give you something to stop that, if you asked her." 

Indigo dabs at the corner of his eye beneath his glasses with a sniff.  "Thank you, but I'm not quite that desperate yet.  I would prefer to keep my wits about me as best I . . . ." His voice trails into nothingness as Grimm leans forward with a slow tilt of his head.

"Huh," he says. "Didn't think you need your 'wits' to edit shit."

Indigo arches an eyebrow, leans back against the couch. "I disclosed no such information."

"You always this damn formal?" 

"Are you always such an interrogatory delight?”

Grimm smirks, strokes the edges of his chin again, audibly scratching at the fine covering of hair with his short nails. “Okay, smartass.” He rises to his feet, mug in hand.  "Gonna see if there's any of that flower tea left."

Flower tea.  Indigo resists the urge to chuckle into his palm.  The man is oddly charming in his blunt, almost abrasive way.  Not at all what Indigo expected, really, especially not from a tattooed mountain of muscle.

(TBC.....)

[actuallythatgirl]

The Final Battle Alastor X Reader

The final battle, but instead of Alastor taking the hit, you do.

part 1 part 2 part 3

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

As we sit on the rooftop, a low, ominous buzzing fills the air. I glance up, my heart sinking as I spot a small, hovering drone circling above us. The logo of the VEES is unmistakable—those damn surveillance drones.

“What in Hell…?” I murmur, my mind racing with a surge of panic. I can barely comprehend the situation as my gaze locks onto the drone, its camera lens glinting ominously in the harsh light.

“We need to get off this roof, my dear,” Alastor says, his voice dangerously calm. He turns his head to look at the drone with a mixture of irritation and something darker, more menacing. His usual mocking demeanor has been replaced by a sharp, cold edge that sends a chill down my spine.

I scramble to my feet, my body still aching from the previous ordeal. “Are they—are the VEES recording us?” I ask, my voice trembling. The realization hits me hard—everything that’s happened, every moment of vulnerability, might have been captured and broadcasted. I feel exposed, the weight of their intrusion adding another layer of fear.

“Quite possibly,” Alastor replies, his eyes narrowing as he watches the drone’s erratic movements. “They’re notorious for their relentless surveillance.”

The urgency in his voice makes my blood run cold. The VEES don’t just record—they exploit. The thought of them having footage of this encounter, our injuries, our private moments, is nauseating.

“Fuck me,” I curse under my breath. The situation is spiraling out of control, and the thought of our private suffering being used for their twisted entertainment is almost more than I can bear.

Alastor’s expression darkens further, his usual composure fraying under the strain. “We need to move, now. If they’ve been recording us, we can’t afford to stay here.”

He struggles to stand, his movements still unsteady but driven by a fierce determination. Despite his injuries, he manages to help me to my feet. Together, we stumble toward the edge of the roof, our only focus now on escaping the prying eyes of the VEES and getting to safety.

"My dear, this is going to feel quite strange," Alastor chokes out, his voice rasping with exhaustion, almost more of a strained wheeze than his usual confident tone. I hesitate, trying to grasp what he meant, but before I can ask, the world begins to shift. It feels like reality itself is bending. The colors around us deepen unnaturally, as though someone turned the saturation way up, casting a surreal, darker hue over everything.

The ground beneath me seems to melt away as I feel myself sink, the familiar sensations of my body slipping away. My mind fights to hold onto some sense of control, but it’s useless—everything is dissolving. I try to look towards Alastor, hoping for some clarity, but the shadows swallow him whole. For a moment, I’m weightless, floating in some in-between space, detached from my own being. And just as quickly as the darkness consumes me, it releases its grip.

The world snaps back into existence with a violent thud.

I stumble, trying to regain my bearings. Around me, it’s as though we’ve stepped into a different time—a house, old but well-kept, like we’ve fallen back into the 1930s. The architecture is elegant, with polished wooden floors, brass fixtures, and vintage décor that could have come straight from a film noir. This must be Alastor's home—a place steeped in the charm and eerie beauty of a bygone era.

A groan from beside me draws my attention, and my heart skips a beat. I look down and see Alastor sprawled on the floor, his once-charismatic figure now crumpled and drained. His last ounce of strength had been used to bring us here, wherever ‘here’ is.

"Dear God… Al?" My voice trembles, the weight of fear pressing into my chest as I kneel beside him. Even in my disoriented state, I can tell something is wrong—very wrong. His face is pale, his eyes closed. I reach out, but my own body barely has the energy to keep me upright. My muscles scream in protest, and I sway, almost collapsing next to him. “Are you okay?” I choke out, desperately needing a response.

But none comes.

Panic tightens its icy grip around my throat. "Alastor, I need you to wake up… please." The silence is unbearable. My mind races as I realize he might not be conscious. "Now, damn it!" But again, there’s nothing—just the oppressive quiet of the house around us.

Fear thrumming through my veins, I whisper, "Forgive me for this," and carefully roll him onto his back, my heart pounding louder in my ears with every passing second. His normally sharp, mischievous eyes remain shut, his face slack. He’s out cold. I can’t even tell how badly he’s hurt.

The surge of fear becomes a roar, drowning out every other thought. I need medical supplies. Anything.

I spring to my feet, fighting through my own injuries as I rush from room to room, pulling open drawers, cabinets—anything that might hold some form of first aid. “Come on… come on. You get into enough fights, you have to have something,” I mutter through gritted teeth. Desperation turns my movements frantic, but each cabinet reveals nothing useful.

I dash up the stairs, feeling like I’m running against time. The house looms around me in its vintage elegance, each piece of furniture a ghost from another era. It’s unsettling how pristine everything looks—like time stopped in the 1930s. Then, I find it—an old wooden door leading into a bathroom. The décor is still perfectly in line with the rest of the house—white subway tiles, polished brass fixtures, a claw-footed tub—but my focus is the cabinet above the sink.

I fling it open and find a small box tucked inside. Finally—medical supplies. I grab it, but as I turn to leave, the sight in the mirror stops me cold.

I barely recognize myself. My reflection stares back, a grotesque version of who I used to be. My face is a battered canvas of swollen black and blue, the bruises blossoming across my skin like ugly flowers. Deep, jagged cuts stretch from my temple to my jawline, the blood drying in uneven streaks, cracking as I move. Dust and grime cling to my skin, mingling with the blood, while debris clots in my tangled hair, matting it against my scalp with a gritty, uncomfortable weight.

My arms are a tapestry of agony, crisscrossed with deep gashes—some still oozing sluggish trails of blood, the edges puckered and angry. Dried streaks stain the skin beneath my fingernails, and each movement pulls at the open wounds, sending fresh spikes of pain shooting through my body.

I lift my shirt, gasping as my fingertips brush against the large, purpling bruises that blotch my torso. The dark blotches are swollen, throbbing with each breath, a sickening reminder of the beating I barely survived. Every breath sends a ripple of pain through the bruised ribs beneath. This body, this broken shell, feels foreign—too fragile, too damaged, to be mine.

Shaking off the shock, I rush back to Alastor, hoping I’m not too late.

[aapdaddy]

A little boy admits the truth to his daddy

Her eyes widened in shock as she watched him enter the bedroom, his expression inscrutable. She knew he had discovered her secret tumblr - the one where she poured out her deepest desires and fantasies, the ones she was never brave enough to voice aloud. And now here he stood, towering over her with a mixture of emotions playing on his face.

She felt vulnerable in that moment, sitting there in her delicate lingerie that barely concealed the curves of her body. Her skin glowed in the soft light of the room, accentuating her beauty and fragility. But there was a fire in her eyes, a defiance that belied her outward appearance of submission.

He spoke, his voice low and controlled, yet tinged with an underlying current of emotion. "I found your blog," he said simply, watching her closely for any reaction.

She swallowed hard, unsure of what to say. The revelations on her blog were meant to be private, a secret outlet for the thoughts that consumed her. And now they lay exposed before the man who held her heart in his hands.

As she struggled to find her voice, he moved closer to her, his presence overwhelming in the small space of the bedroom. She could feel the tension crackling between them, heavy and charged with unspoken words.

Finally, she met his gaze with a mixture of fear and longing. "I... I didn't mean for you to find out like this," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath.

He reached out a hand to cup her chin, tilting her face up to meet his gaze fully. "Tell me," he said softly, his thumb brushing across her bottom lip in a gesture that was equal parts tender and possessive. "Tell me what you want."

Her heart raced as she searched his eyes, trying to gauge his reaction to her confession. She could see a myriad of emotions swirling in his gaze - surprise, desire, and a hint of something darker that made her pulse quicken even more.

"I want..." she began, her voice barely audible as she struggled to put her deepest desires into words. "I want to surrender myself to you completely. To be yours in every way."

He shook his head as his grip tightened on her chin, his touch both gentle and firm. "Say it," he commanded softly, his breath warm against her skin. "Tell me exactly what you want."

Taking a shaky breath, she forced the words out, feeling a rush of exhilaration and fear at baring her soul to him. "I want to be yours... I want you to dominate me, to show me how to submit to your every whim."

A smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he leaned in closer, his scent enveloping her in a heady embrace. "you know that is not what I meant," he murmured, his words sending a shiver of anticipation down her spine.

"I know," she whispered, feeling a surge of boldness within her. "But what if it is? What if that's what I truly desire deep down inside?" Her eyes held his, unflinching and filled with a raw honesty that seemed to both challenge and entice him.

He studied her for a moment, the tension crackling between them like electricity. And then, with a slow, deliberate movement, he brought his lips to her ear, his breath sending delicious shivers down her spine. "If that is truly what you want," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that stirred something primal within her, "then I will be the man to give it to you."

A gasp escaped her as his words sank in, the realization of what she had just admitted crashing over her like a wave. But instead of fear or regret, she felt a surge of exhilaration and anticipation coursing through her veins. She wanted this - wanted him - in a way she had never dared to admit before.

With a newfound resolve, she met his gaze once more, unyielding in her desire. "I want you to make me your boy," she said with a fierce determination that surprised even herself. "To mold me into the image of your choosing, to change me in every way until I am yours completely."

His eyes gleamed with a mixture of approval and hunger at his boy's confession, and without another word spoken, he took his boy's hand in his and led him towards a path unknown but thrillingly irresistible.

Would love your thoughts on this? would you like to hear more of this story? or more stories like it? Thanks for reading.

[cotton-candy-vodka]

Hi! Who is ur fav ASOUE character?? :)

Hello anon! Thanks for the ask!

ASOUE is one of the few pieces of media I enjoy where I really dont have a favorite character. Typically what makes me choose a character as a favorite is if i see myself in them, and in ASOUE that just happens so freaking much. But i want to answer your question at least a little bit, so here’s some ASOUE characters and how they relate to me/why they’re my “favorite”

Violet - she made a promise to her parents to protect her siblings. And honestly, she loves them so much that I think she’d protect them as fiercely as she does even without the promise. But the paradox with her character lies in the fact that she will do anything to keep her siblings safe: like risking their lives. She suggests stealing a boat and riding it across a large lake in the middle of the hurricane. She convinces her siblings to go down a 46-story elevator shaft at the chance of seeing their new friends. Even though her inventions are typically flawless, a lot of them could fail horribly and end up costing the Baudelaires not only their plan, but their lives. Her love is reckless and impulsive. Violet would destroy herself for her family, but when will she drag them down with her?

Klaus - No matter how much time, research, and dedication this poor boy pours into exposing evil, his work is never enough. Klaus pulls an all-nighter studying a subject he doesnt find interesting in the first book alone - i dare any one of us on this wretched website to do something like that. He shows Mr. Poe proof time and time again that Olaf is lurking and attempting to steal the Baudelaire fortune, but no matter how many facts he conjures up, Mr. Poe is ignorant. He spends the whole series fighting for what he believes is just, only to be told that there are no noble people in this world. The philosophies he built his life on are challenged by the world’s obliviousness, and perhaps unwillingness, to decipher what happens in the shadows. But in a world filled with more grey than black and white, will he become the very thing he’s sworn to destroy by blindly believing in good and evil?

Sunny - Say you lived in the shadow of, oh, I dont know, a pandemic. Gen Alpha will live their lives hearing stories told by those before them about how many deaths there were and how the world stopped. But Gen Alpha themselves will only have a lack of social skills and an accute knowledge of technology, not even realizing that what forged their generation is because of covid. The tragedy lies in the fact that they wont understand what made them what they are and why everyone else is so upset about it. Now, how many people do you know that remember what happened when they were around a year old? Exactly. If Sunny is still alive, she’ll always live in the shadow of unfortunate events that defined her life without her knowing it, all while her siblings suffer from immense trauma and all she can do is watch.

Olaf - Is any of his behavior okay? Absolutely not. But what is so upsetting about his narrative is that I believe he sees himself in the Baudelaires. He sees a childlike naïveté in believing noble people exist, that despite trial after trial one can continue to do what is “right”. But Olaf knows. He knows that there is betrayal, greed, and evil prevalent in everyone. And in his masochistic nature, he finds the Baudelaires learning such life lessons the hard way gratifying. He is satisfied to see others suffer as he did, seeing his vision of the world play out. Heck, he thinks he’s doing these kids a favor, teaching them whole they are still young and able to run from VFD. Terrifying? Yes. Understandable? Also yes.

Quigley - This poor boy. Being only thirteen, stripped of his family and almost everything else he cares about, has to survive by himself. No resources, no help. Just a light at the end of the tunnel: VFD. If he can uncover this mystery, he assumes all will be well, that the hole in his heart will heal. But the more he learns, the more he is brainwashed by the cult that is VFD. His savior slowly killing him from the inside. How poetic is that? (This is definitely going into headcanon territory but definitely dont imagine how if he reunites with his siblings normally he’ll only be a shell of himself and how they’ll try to convince him how VFD destroys everything its sworn to protect and how Quigley doesn’t believe them because if they’re true then what’s left of him??? Definitely do NOT think about that).

Isadora: I am a simple woman. I see a hopeless lesbian crushing on a girl who’s in love with her brother and i receive the biggest emotional attachment of my LIFE

I hope in some round-a-bout way all that answered your question. Have a wonderful day!

[mediocre-shark-tales]

Chapter 11

Masterlist

Warning - Graphic Violence

As I neared the clearing where the fight was taking place, I could see them—the Cullens and the pack locked in combat with the newborns, bodies moving in a blur of snarls and teeth. The ground was littered with broken pieces of stone-like flesh, the remains of those we’d already defeated. But there were still so many left.

I let out a low, commanding growl as I joined the fray, and the pack immediately responded. They sensed me—felt my presence—and it gave them a renewed burst of energy. We fought as one, coordinated and deadly, tearing through the newborns with a fierceness that only wolves and the coven combined could achieve.

I tore through the newborns, each one more frenzied than the last, their limbs flying and their snarls silenced as I ripped them apart. The pain in my leg was a dull throb that I managed to push aside, my focus razor-sharp as I fought on. The battlefield was littered with the remains of shattered vampires, and I could feel the momentum shifting in our favor. There were only a few left now, and I watched as the pack and Cullens worked together to finish them off.

But then, in the chaos, I saw Leah caught in a bad position—her back exposed as a newborn lunged toward her. Before I could move, Jake launched himself, knocking her out of the way just in time. He tried to take out the leech, but even Jake, as strong as he was, was caught off guard by the newborn’s sheer strength. Without thinking, I threw myself into the fray, pushing Jake aside. I wasn’t about to let him fall, not when I could do something about it.

I caught the newborn by surprise, my jaws snapping down on his neck. His head flew off, rolling lifeless to the ground. For a brief moment, I allowed myself to feel the relief of victory—but it was short-lived. Out of nowhere, another leech sprang onto my back, his stone arms wrapping around my middle in a crushing grip. The pressure was unbearable. My ribs cracked, the sound echoing in the clearing as I felt them break and shift under the force.

A wave of agony shot through me, and I howled in pain, my vision going dark at the edges. The screams of my packmates filled the air, their voices mingling with the frantic cries of my imprint. But even in the crushing pain, I wouldn’t let this be my end. With every ounce of strength I had left, I twisted and flipped the leech off my back, slamming him into the ground. A final snarl tore from my throat as I ripped him apart, ending his existence.

The battlefield grew quiet. The last of the newborns had been defeated. The fight was over, but my body had reached its limit. I felt my strength drain away as the pain consumed me. My bones felt like they were on fire, broken and rearranged in ways that shouldn’t have been possible. My vision blurred, and before I knew it, I shifted back into my human form, collapsing to the ground.

Paul was the first to reach me, sliding to his knees and pulling my head into his lap. His face was streaked with tears of anger and fear, his hands trembling as he cradled me. “No, no, you’re gonna be okay, Y/N,” he choked out, his voice shaking. “We’re gonna get you healed up, just hold on.”

The rest of the pack crowded around me, their faces etched with worry and panic. Sam exchanged a look with Carlisle, who was already assessing the damage.

“The Volturi are coming,” Carlisle said, his voice urgent. “We don’t want to fight them right now. You need to get her out of here, quickly. Take her to your home, and I’ll meet you there. She’s going to need my expertise this time.”

Sam nodded and immediately barked orders to the pack. Paul and Jake carefully lifted me into their arms, moving with urgency but trying not to hurt me more. Every movement sent fresh waves of pain through my body, and I groaned, fighting to stay conscious. The world around me was slipping away, the weight of everything I’d done crashing down on me.

As they ran, the pack followed close behind, their protective presence surrounding me. “Stay awake, Y/N,” Jake said, his voice breaking. “I know you’re tired, but please, stay with us.”

My eyelids were heavy, and the pain was overwhelming, but I could still hear them—their voices, their fear, and their love for me. I tried to focus on that, to keep myself from slipping into the fog that was threatening to pull me under. I had fought too hard to give in now. The pack needed me, my imprint needed me. With every shallow breath, I fought to stay awake, even as the pain blurred everything around me. Until finally I let go, the need to rest being too heavy at the moment. 

Suddenly, I awoke in a vast, open field, the cool grass beneath me soft and swaying gently in the breeze. Above, the night sky shimmered with stars, and a mesmerizing blue moon bathed the field in a pale glow, casting everything in an ethereal light. I stared up at it, feeling as though I could lose myself in its beauty, the calm stillness washing over me.

I tried to stand, but instead of feeling my feet touch the ground, I felt weightless, as if I was floating above the earth, my soul drifting free from my body. Confusion flickered through me, and then I heard the soft rustle of grass behind me. Turning, I saw a familiar sight—my wolf—but there was something different about it. This wasn’t just a reflection of myself; this was something more.

It was Calian Enapay, the ancient wolf spirit who had visited me before. He appeared as if conjured from the dreams of another world, his presence both calming and powerful. “Hello again, child,” he greeted, his voice deep and wise, resonating through me like the hum of the earth itself. “It seems you have surpassed me in ways I never could.”

I remained silent, absorbing his words. I wasn’t sure what to say, but Calian continued. “You balanced your thirst for vengeance without losing yourself to it. You fought with honor, even through pain, and protected your pack, placing their lives before your own. For that, I am proud.”

He gestured to the field, and suddenly, the battle I had just fought played out before me. I watched myself, the pack, the Cullens—all of it unfolding in vivid detail. I hadn’t realized the full extent of what I’d done, of how I’d fought despite my injuries. When Calian turned back to me, his eyes were full of something like approval. “For your success, I will help unlock the next ability hidden within your bloodline.”

Without another word, Calian trotted forward, and though I still felt weightless, my spirit followed him instinctively. Soon, we arrived at the Vale of Echoes, a place I had been before. My body floated toward a large stone, and before I realized it, I was seated cross-legged on top of it, facing a majestic tree that glowed with its own light. The trunk pulsed with vibrant green energy, while the leaves shimmered with a soft blue radiance. The entire Vale was lit by the tree’s presence, casting a serene and ancient glow over everything.

“Close your eyes,” Calian instructed as he sat beside me. “Let yourself relax, and find calm within.” I did as he said, focusing on my breathing, allowing the tension from the battle to slip away. “Now,” he continued, “imagine the faces of your packmates. See them not as they are, but in their wolf forms.”

Images of my pack filled my mind—Jake, Leah, Paul, and the others, all running together, play-fighting as wolves, their laughter echoing in the back of my mind. A soft smile tugged at my lips as the memories flowed through me.

“As you have put your life on the line for them,” Calian said, his voice becoming softer, more reverent, “your inner wolf has granted you a new ability. You are now so attuned to your pack that you will be able to see through their eyes, to experience the world as they do. All you need to do is think of them.”

At that moment, I thought of Paul—my heart tugged with worry for him, wondering how he was coping in my absence. The connection was instant. I could see the scene unfold before me. The pack was running around my home, preparing for Carlisle’s arrival. Leah sat by my side, holding my hand, tears running down her face. Jake sat at the end of my bed, his body shaking as he rocked back and forth, mumbling words I couldn’t hear. Paul was there, too, standing beside me, his eyes wide with concern as he looked at my broken body.

The sight of myself was shocking. My skin was bruised and battered, deep cuts and gashes still bleeding onto gauze. My bones were broken in places, visible even under the bandages. But I could also see my body beginning to heal, the shattered bones knitting together, and the cuts slowly closing. The speed of my regeneration was startling.

As quickly as the vision had come, I was pulled back into the Vale, my eyes snapping open to find Calian's face inches from mine. I jumped, startled, as he chuckled softly.

“You see now,” he said, stepping back. “When you use this ability, you lose all awareness of your own surroundings. So, I caution you—do not use it in unsafe situations.”

I nodded, absorbing his words, understanding the weight of this new gift. It would be incredibly useful, but also dangerous if misused.

Calian’s voice softened again as he continued, “Before, your senses were already heightened beyond any wolf alive. Now, you will feel the emotions and experiences of your packmates as if they were your own. In time, you will learn to control it, to dull it when necessary, but it will always be there. And with that, you must learn to help your packmates as they need, not simply how your instincts tell you to.” I let his words settle within me. This new ability would add another layer of responsibility, of pressure, but it also meant I could protect my pack in ways I never had before. 

All of a sudden, I was yanked down through the earth, the tranquil field disappearing in an instant. If I could have screamed, I would have—startled by the violent shift—but no sound came. Instead, a deep groan of agony escaped me as I was dragged back into the overwhelming pain of my broken body, bruised and aching as it desperately tried to heal itself.

I could hear voices immediately. They surrounded me, swirling from all directions, overlapping in a cacophony of concern. The emotions of the pack crashed into me like a tidal wave—fear, worry, helplessness. Each feeling added to the weight pressing down on me, and I had to fight to separate my own pain from theirs.

Someone’s hand slipped into mine, warm and steady, and instinctively I squeezed, harder than I probably meant to as another wave of pain pulsed through my body. It felt as if my bones were grinding against each other, knitting together with excruciating slowness.

“Y/N?” Paul’s voice cracked, thick with emotion. “Hang on, just hang on. Carlisle’s on his way. You’re gonna be fine.”

I tried to open my eyes, to respond, but everything was so heavy, every breath, every movement felt like I was swimming through thick sludge. The intense feeling of everyone’s anxiety made it hard to think, made the world around me blur and spin.

Leah’s voice cut through the haze. “Stay strong, Y/N. Please, don’t leave us.”

I could feel her hand on my arm, her voice steady, though I could sense the fear hidden underneath. Every fiber of my being was trying to push past the pain, to fight, but my body was in pieces, struggling to keep up with the damage I had sustained.

A faint thrum of the pack's shared link reverberated through me, and I could feel them—all of them—on edge, desperate to help but unsure how.

The sharp scent of the Cullens reached me before I could even hear them approaching. I knew Carlisle was coming—he was the only one Sam allowed to cross the boundary for me—but it seemed they’d all taken the opportunity to check on me. I was one of the few non-vampires they actually cared for, and despite the tension between wolves and vampires, we had found a sort of mutual respect, even if their scent still made my nose wrinkle.

I caught Sam’s eyes and managed to muster enough energy to speak. “The Cullens are almost here. Let them stay. They care about me as much as I care about them… I want them to see that I’m going to be okay.”

Sam’s brow furrowed in confusion. His head tilted slightly, as if trying to catch the sound or scent I’d already picked up on but hadn’t yet reached him. “How do you know that?” he asked, his voice laced with surprise.

“I’ll explain later,” I replied, feeling the weight of exhaustion pressing down harder on me. “Please, just listen to me… or I’ll use my alpha command for once.”

Sam sighed deeply, a look of reluctant understanding crossing his face. He wasn’t used to hearing that kind of insistence from me, but I could see the trust there, too. With a curt nod, he turned and moved toward the tree line to meet the Cullens when they arrived.

As he left, I closed my eyes, trying to steady my breathing. The pack’s emotions still swirled around me, and I felt the dull ache of their shared exhaustion and pain. But underneath it all, there was hope. Hope that I will pull through. That we’d all get through this together.

Moments later, I heard the faint steps of the Cullens approaching—light, quick, graceful as ever. And then Carlisle’s familiar, calming presence was there beside me. His hand gently touched my arm, and I felt a wave of relief wash over me. The pain was still there, still gnawing at every nerve, but knowing he was here, knowing they all were, made it just a little more bearable.

“We’re here,” Carlisle’s voice was soft, soothing. “We’ll take care of you, Y/N.”

The room grew tense as the Cullens quietly entered, each of them careful to keep their distance from the pack while Carlisle moved with calm efficiency. Paul, standing near the edge of the room, immediately let out a low growl, his eyes flashing with anger and discomfort at the sight of me in pain, surrounded by vampires. His instincts were taking over, the natural hatred between our kinds rising to the surface, even though the Cullens meant no harm.

I glanced at Sam, silently pleading for him to do something. He caught my look, understanding flashing across his face. He knew what I needed right now wasn’t more conflict.

Without a word, Sam approached Paul, resting a firm hand on his shoulder. "Come on," he whispered low, but firmly enough to get Paul’s attention. "You’re not helping by staying here, Paul. She needs the Cullens to help her. If you stay like this, you’ll make it harder for her to heal."

Paul’s muscles were tense, his growl still rumbling deep in his chest, but Sam’s words cut through his anger. Slowly, Paul’s eyes flicked toward me, filled with frustration and helplessness, and for a moment, I could see the pain behind his anger. He hated seeing me like this, hated that the people who were helping me were the very ones his instincts told him to hate.

But after a long, tense pause, Paul finally nodded, though his face remained hard. He allowed Sam to guide him toward the door, his footsteps heavy with reluctance. As they neared the exit, I heard Sam murmuring something to Paul about being ready, about needing him to be strong for when I needed him most.

The tension in the room lightened slightly once they were gone, but I could still feel the weight of the moment hanging in the air. The Cullens stood silently, their golden eyes watching me with concern and focus. They cared, I knew that. Even if it was hard for the wolves to accept.

Carlisle knelt down beside me, his eyes soft but determined. "Let’s get started," he said gently, beginning to inspect my injuries. I closed my eyes and focused on my breathing, trusting him.

3rd person

Outside the home, everyone was a wreck. They all stood or sat together, listening to the excruciating screams coming from inside the cabin. Sure, they had all witnessed her cries for her father when he passed away in her arms. But this time it was different, this time they knew she had truly risked her life. They had heard her body break and now had to listen to it again followed by her scream. Most of the Cullens had joined the pack outside once they were sure Carlisle and Esme could handle the rest. Sure they may not be able to truly cry, but they still felt immense sadness and pain hearing their friend. 

The pack was all different levels of pain, but a few stood more hurt among the rest. Leah had grown close to y/n. She had taken solace in the only other female wolf shifter. Making a connection with her that no other packmate had. She felt as if this whole thing was her fault, she was the one who fought the newborn she could not handle in the first place. Yet she seemed to hear a whisper of y/n’s voice in her mind. ‘I do not and would not blame you’ No matter what she thought. This foggy whisper of y/n’s voice would seep into her thoughts. 

Sam felt sad and confused. The girl he was helping find her leadership and hone in her alpha abilities had not only gotten massively hurt, but she had also unlocked something in herself. She had unlocked something huge perhaps, and she didn’t confide in the man trying to play an older brother role to her. He had seen his younger self in the girl and wanted to help her learn. Yet he had been kept out of the loop with her now. Maybe it was their argument that he lost her trust, or maybe she had outgrown him, and yet he couldn’t fathom not hearing from her in such circumstances. 

Jake was almost as distraught as Paul. He too was blaming himself for the girl’s injury. But not only that, he thought that if she died, the only thing she would remember was the many arguments and mistakes he had made against her advice. He could remember the many times that she had told him to move on from Bella, and yet he still ran back to the girl. He remembered how they had used to play together as kids and now they had begun to grow apart because of the tension between him and Bella. 

Paul was the worst of them all. His wolf was clawing and gnawing at his restraint. He was being held down by Emmett, Sam, and Jared. He thrashed and growled at them. He had to fight his control as best as he could, he knew his wolf would end up hurting her more than helping her. However hearing her screams being caused by vampires was enraging him beyond recognition. 

Bella stood frozen in the corner, her face buried in Edward’s chest, barely able to stomach the raw pain in the screams. Edward held her close, his hands gently covering her ears in a vain attempt to lessen the unbearable screams that echoed from the home. The group was saturated with worry, every breath, every glance heavy with anticipation.

Then, as suddenly as the cries had started, silence fell, draping over everyone like a suffocating blanket. A hushed stillness filled the space, and it seemed as though everyone’s heart had stilled, braced for the news.

The soft but distinct echo of footsteps broke the silence. Carlisle and Esme emerged through the door, their expressions calm yet touched with something no one could quite interpret. Everyone’s gaze turned to them, waiting, barely daring to hope.

“She will be alright,” Carlisle began gently, his voice a balm to the tension in the room. “With time, she’ll heal completely. If it were any of you,” he nodded to his family, “I would say she’d be fully recovered in two to three weeks. But… I’ve noticed something else.”

Brows furrowed, a ripple of worry coursing through the group. Bella’s hand flew to her mouth, fear flashing in her eyes. Carlisle raised a hand to reassure them.

“This change doesn’t seem to harm her. In fact, it’s the opposite—she’s stronger, her abilities heightened beyond what they once were. It’s as though she’s gained a resilience that, even for us, is uncommon.” Relief settled in, sighs escaping the group in a wave of understanding. The tension that had gripped them finally began to melt away, even as confusion lingered in their expressions.

Esme added softly, “Her strength now feels different, not only physical but… something deeper, like she’s evolved.” Bella’s face softened as she took in the words, her lips curving into a slight smile. Edward glanced down at her, relief mingling with curiosity in his own expression.

y/n pov

I stared at the ceiling, my body a battleground of healing and pain, each pulse a reminder of my injuries. But it wasn’t just my physical wounds that clawed at me; I could feel the deep sadness and worry radiating from the pack. Some were blaming themselves for what had happened, their emotional turmoil wrapping around me like a thick fog. Instinctively, I focused on projecting calming sensations to soothe them. It drained my energy, but I couldn't ignore the need to ease their pain.

Suddenly, hurried footsteps echoed in the hallway, accompanied by the familiar scents of Jake, Paul, Leah, and Sam. My heart warmed at their presence, even amidst the chaos. Soon, Paul’s face filled my vision, his eyes wide with concern as he gripped my hand. A sharp twinge of pain shot through me, and I winced, prompting him to release my grip. Instead, he gently cradled my face, searching my eyes for signs of reassurance.

When our eyes locked, he gasped, his expression morphing into one of alarm. “Your eyes, what’s wrong with your eyes?!” The room fell into a heavy silence, every pair of eyes scrutinizing me with heightened concern. I could sense their rising fears, so I once again sent waves of calm toward them, hoping to quell their panic.

“It looks like her wolf’s eyes. Why is her wolf trying to break through like this?” Leah’s voice was tinged with confusion, her brow furrowed in deep thought.

Sam, always the voice of reason, stepped forward, a hint of authority lacing his tone. “It must be something to do with how we keep feeling these clouds of calm over all of us. Remember what Carlisle said? This is something more ancient within her. We just have to hope she is willing to tell us later. For now, let’s all calm down and let her rest.”

The weight of their gazes began to lift as Sam’s words took hold. I could feel their tension easing, the love and loyalty of my pack washing over me like a warm tide. Despite the pain still throbbing through my body, I felt a flicker of strength igniting within me. 

As they settled around me, the noise of their worries faded into a soothing background hum. I could sense their emotional currents intertwining with mine, a reminder that while my wounds were mine to bear, the burden of healing would not rest on my shoulders alone.

[olivescales3]

The Forgotten Legends of Chima, Episode 1

Writer's notes at the end of the post

I thought I knew him well, after spending my entire childhood alongside him, but now, he stabbed me through the back. No… It can't be—

This can't be him… He would never do something like this. Or so I thought – he has shoved me aside and stolen the Golden Chi from my grasp.

The furious crocodile stands tall, exuding resentment through every fiber of his body, from the tense muscles to the frowning eyebrows. The shadows projected onto him by hundreds of green leaves seem to discolor his vibrant scales. They form delicate petals that flutter at the wind's command; a force so fierce enough to sway his intimidatingly torn cape.

As I lean onto a nearby tree and regain my posture, I can't help but ruminate on emotion-driven doubts lingering in mind… How could someone hurt their childhood friend? This doesn't make sense! We haven't seen each other in years, but there is no way he would do something like this out of the blue. I'm certain that he is innocent – not because we were childhood friends, but because he was one of the kindest animals I have ever met. 

I don't know who hurt him, the criminal who slaughtered his child-like innocence, and worse… I can't stop worrying about what he did to my friend's eye. It was once brimming with emotion and life, but now the only remains I see is a lifeless pearl that can't shine anymore. It was slashed with so much hatred that wrath was buried underneath its scar, which ran from his left eyebrow down to the jaw.

"Cragger… look, it's been quite some time since we last met, right? We can talk it out, solve this problem and… Maybe make things clear?", I mumble whilst my arm trembles as I try to reach out to him, "I need to know what happened. Why did you do this?"

The struggle Chima had with the Wolf Tribe put everyone under stress, and that made the demand for Chi more intense than ever. Each tribe became more wary of one another…

"I know that the conspiracies surrounding you are false. You didn't know that Wilhurt was there. We fell into an ambush… nothing that happened during this was your fault!"

They made him expect forgiveness for something out of his control. They thought that my friend caused the incident, that he was responsible for everything that happened to me.

I am not like that, and I will do anything to prove this.

One slow step at a time, I expose myself, opening my arms, at risk of any attack.

We're at the Forever Rock. Cragger and I would play here almost everyday, and yet this is where I first see him in five years… five years since he was attacked, right here.

I glance at the old, discolored blood stains that mark the dry dirt beneath our toes. Although we are surrounded by bountiful grass and near a stunning crystal-clear lake, it is impossible to distract ourselves, with the miracle of nature, from the unnecessary trauma and misunderstandings.

The crocodile backs away, his claws clutching onto the shiny, gold crystal Chi, and on the other hand, his double sided sword. A long shadow, projected by his body blocking off the sunlight, occludes the Forever Rock, gatekeeping our lovely days behind grudges.

His single eye twitches, trying to pay attention both to the crystal in his grasp and me. His nostrils flare, he clenches his big, impressive crocodilian teeth.

"Laval… Don't- don't come closer, don't even think about reaching me. This might be the end of us." He warns me, slowly pointing his sword at my direction, "We shouldn't have met each other…"

His body begins to give up on him, weighing him down on his legs, but he resists his weakness and maintains balance.

His pupils constrict, "No. I shouldn't have met you, disgraceful lion! Ever since we became friends, your tribe has changed my life for the worst.", he kicks the ground in frustration.

To my dismay, Cragger stabs the soil multiple times. Not just once, but twice, thrice— I can't count how many times he shoved his weapon deep into the ground, but he repeats this brute movement with exceeding passion.

The sword is thrown downwards, and, finally, gets stuck in between dirt's crevice. Cragger grabs the handle that's sticking out like a sore thumb. He wiggles the object in despair. 

I can't stand up, but I slowly approach my friend, wobbling short hops with my right foot.

"I… understand it now. It's all politics— my childhood was just a tool. Like my status as prince."

I couldn't even reach him…!

No… no, no! Where did I go wrong— what didn't I do right? If my words were unable to reach him, then what am I supposed to do now?

He collapses onto the floor, sobbing from between his fangs, pleading for help. Tears flood from his right eye and rain on top of the dead, soulless ground, although it's not those crocodile tears that they have been mocking ever since the incident. These are the purest of waters, able to revive even the driest of land. Even if it means to add salt to injury.

I try my best to convince him to let go of the Chi. He's still too young to use it. No one his age should ever need to become stronger; a chemical this powerful will only bring harm.

He gazes at the orb surrounded by his fingers. One misstep and it will ruin our lives. Without his sword, the only way to hurt us would be—

"You foul lions never stop telling me what to do!… My childhood's blood spilt on this very soil and you scums call it a 'sense of justice'!"

I rush to Cragger as fast as I can, with all of the strength I can muster from my legs. My lack of coordination makes me trip. He, before my eyes, propels himself, and, without giving me time to even react, bashes his head onto me.

A blunt pain spreads throughout my entire chest, almost constricting my lungs, or so what it feels like, unabeling me to breathe properly. The grass flies towards me and barely softens my fall, but the aching on my back and gut now become one and the same as a sickening and paralyzing numbness.

Within my desperate and shallow panting, I'm able to hear Cragger's voice, but I can't understand what he's talking about.

My eyes keep closing while I try to stay awake. I can't breathe nor see properly… the only thing I feel is someone grabbing me and—

Is that water entering my lungs?...

I failed.

This is our story; of Laval, the prince of the Lions, and my friends, overcoming obstacles of misery and tragedy. A story of friendship, but also war, destruction, selfishness, and, amidst it all, a sprinkle of hope and kindness that made everything here possible. A prince who overcame violence without picking up a sword. And, before that, it started right at our childhood.

These are… the Legends of Chima.

As the moon rises, it reflects its light onto the nearby lake that surrounds us, forming a perfectly circular shape, only to be distorted afterwards by the water. My tiny lion cub body appears in the picture of the reflection as I try to get closer to the reservoir. The water here is so clear, to the point that its entire ecosystem, from plants to small animals, are visible. Ironically enough, the images mirrored on the liquid block the view of what's on the bottom. I lift one of my legs and I shake it left and right to mess with the image.

Suddenly, the water starts to tremble, deforming my mirrored self and the moon near it. A dark green monster rises to the surface… is it a swamp monster?

"Caught you! I win, I win! Scaredy cat!", Cragger growls, "Don't mess with the Master of Stealth!"

Water sprinkles over my fur and drenches my blue tunic… which is terrible! My body flinches in agony by the feeling of a night breeze hitting my wet coat.

He grabs my hand and climbs over to the surface. An euphoric grin surges on his face, his slitted eyes widen. Our friend group gave him a nickname due to his amazing ability to hide around here, in addition to his long win streak on these types of games. Cragger's dark green head is able to camouflage between the plants, and his olive green torso becomes invisible amongst the algae. Not only that, he's able to climb trees and hide himself there.

I rest myself on the surface of the Forever Rock after this long session of hide and seek with my friends. I leave space for Cragger to cut another line on the stone, marking his new victory.

Unfortunately, not everyone is content with his achievement. Our youngest friend, Worriz, is fuming with rage, hopping around, making the funniest faces during his temper tantrum.

"I am serious!", he swears from the top of his lungs, "Why should I play this if Cragger can just hide himself in water?! That jerk knows we can't swim properly!"

Worriz comes from the Wolf Tribe. He inherited his great sense of smell from his father, one of the wolf elders.

Cragger marches towards the pup. Mighty stomps tremble the dirt. He stands his ground, and pushes the fluffy little guy with his chest. They exchange glares and they clench their wrists.

Worriz shoves his paw onto Cragger's torso. "Unfair! I expected better from a… modest prince!"

The crocodile flares his nostrils and raises his eyebrow. He touches his moist, torn red loincloth, then, he proceeds to giggle.

"I bet you're just jealous that you can't 'swim properly'. Fight someone your size, you pa- pathetic puppy!"

The wolf snarls and begins to swab his tongue on his snout, over and over again. It seems that standing on his toes is not enough to make him look bigger.

"Learn to speak properly before starting arguments!

Worriz' pelt sprinkled with dirt emits a nasty, sickening stench, mixed with the muggy scent of adrenaline coming from the sweat dripping between Cragger's scales, like rain on a hot summer day.

I observe Cragger's face being showered by tears as they inevitably join the sweat on his tense body. I feel his indignation – no, even worse, his pain, his wrath. Worriz always had a sharp tongue, but this childish quarrel has escalated into a disaster of targeting someone's dignity and adding salt to their injury. Cragger fought to be able to speak, he overcame his difficulties so that he could express himself–

"You, Worriz, don't know how much he bore. You do not have the right to judge someone for the way they were born.", words escape from my lips.

Before I'm able to notice, my friends are staring at me.

"Hey, hey!", I intervene, "It's… it's not like my friend is innocent anyways! He also can't judge Worriz' height!"

I snatch my best friend's cold, thin arm. I cling onto him, but he pushes me away… and, in a matter of seconds, between our mutually fleeting gaze, he faces the forest behind us and propels his olive green scaly body in the direction of the bushes. The leaves rustle with his rapid steps until he disappears between the plants. My muzzle opens wide; how could he run away like that if all I did was attempt to help him?... 

No… Did I hurt his feelings?

Worriz barks at me, puffs up his chest and repeats the words, "Ooh, my bestie ran away! What am I supposed to do?", with a mocking melodramatic tone of voice.

I glance at Worriz; I know you're trying to insult me. And this is your last straw.

I chase after my friend, going through the same bushes as he did, almost tripping over on the fallen sticks scattered around the ground. Beyond this direction are roads that cut throughout the tropical forest, leading to the entirety of the lands west.

He's already fled with his Speedor. Mine and Worriz' stone unicycles are parked near a big tree trunk.

I hop onto my vehicle and, at maximum velocity, I track down the marks left behind. The nature around me becomes blurry as I continue down the path facing left, on a precipice trail curved inwards. My surroundings change drastically from grass to dry soil. The rapid transition is nauseating—  

Whoa!

My body flings forward.

The speed of my unicycle had decreased in the blink of an eye. I had forgotten that Speedorz don't work properly on lifeless terrain.

This is the Great Divide, an arid, mountainous land. It's called home by the Eagle Tribe, and this is where their domain, the Eagle Spire, is located; it's the summit of this thin, gray block mountain. The area here is covered with sharp peaks that scatter even throughout the horizon. A few greens appear here and there, but there is not much life here because rainfalls are scarce in the Great Divide.

The road is slowly getting thinner, and it's becoming easier to notice the elevation between the ground and I. I glimpse at the road track left previously by Cragger.

Wait… it seems that—

He made a sharp turn towards The Fangs!

I follow the curve with a heavy drift. Parts of the cliff tumble down behind me– I swear I could've fallen too. 

My Speedor bumps into piles of debris. The stone unicycle rattling is unbearable. My wheel is chipping with the slightest collision. I should be more careful with my driving skills.

The sky is closing by the minute and I'm barely able to see where I'm going. How could someone be this reckless to run into the Fangs? He's risking his own life because of insults!

Everything is now black and white. The moon coats the land with light, and it bounces varying tones of gray into my eyes. Sharp, fang-like pinnacles are dispersed everywhere and form an disorganized barrier around the region. Not so far away, a slim and animalistic silhouette is leaning down near a crocodile head shaped Speedor. A silhouette so bright it could bear the appearance of a spirit.

I decelerate my Speedor and brake all of the remaining momentum by piercing my hind claws into the solid dirt, then I proceed to hop off my vehicle. I have finally found Cragger, but there is no time for relief now. My next move might put us at any risk. Of course, I still wish I could run after him. I can't leave him alone like this.

Step after step, I get closer to Cragger. He notices me, still upset from the moment before, and at this point we are at a comfortable distance away from each other.

"Cragger… None of us were expecting Worriz to act the way he did. I promise this won't happen again; I'll sort things out with him, and maybe he'll get grounded for what he said.", I murmur, "Please relax, okay?"

The crocodile hesitantly opens his mouth, and tightens his shaking hand.

He musters the courage to reply. He groans, "I'm trying to, Laval… I'm trying!

"D- do you think it's easy to let go of things like that? Or that words simply dissolve into the air like they're nothing? Tell me!" He covers his head with his hands. 

His cry launched itself from left to right, jumping off one pinnacle towards another. If someone was here, they would've certainly picked up on our presence.

"How're you able to simply 'sort out things' with him? Did– did you even understand what he said? Or what he meant? He insulted the effort of my parents– if it weren't for them, I would've been mute, or even dead!", he shouts again.

Words leaked through Cragger's lips; waves after waves of uncontrollable anger rose high until they hit the ground. I never expected anything like that to happen.

His grunts start to fade away, as my mind boils with intrusive thoughts; dead… what could this mean? Why was there a possibility of Cragger being dead, why would that even happen? What would I be without him, how would I live without his audacity distracting me from rigorous royal rules… How would his parents react to their sweet child dissolving into the air—

A petrifying chill rushes through my nerves; both of my shoulders stun by the pinch of a scaly pair of hands. In the blink of an eye, my entire body is shaken viciously. The constant brute movement mixed with the intense emotions make me dizzy. I'm unable to react properly; everything seems fuzzy, my head feels light, my body starts numbing. 

"Silly lion, when will you stop freezing like a cub and come back to reality? Toughen up a little bit!" he cackles in a sudden change of mood. Perhaps I lost the notion of time's passing.

My eyes widen and my muzzle droops into an awkward expression, though I can't stop myself from laughing too, "Haha… I don't know– do I really paralyze that often? Well, it's surprising how much you tolerate me", incomplete syllables mumble from my mouth due to my dizziness.

I sigh, "... I'm glad you aren't strict with me. My dad is already too much."

I stretch my arm onto one of the sharp pinnacles, then I firmly close my eyes.

"Just breathe, aight… You'll be fine, because I'm your friend! Friends are supposed to help each other.", says Cragger.

I've got my friend's back. Now, maybe we could travel on foot towards the Eagle Spire, get help there and go back home. Staying up late alone is not safe. Cragger stares at the moon. It's full, and nearby where we are rests the Wolf Tribe's outpost, which changes location ever so frequently. He points out that it looks quite purplish tonight; I can't see colors at night, but the moon's appearance is darker than normal. Strange.

I stick up my neck and look at the sky. Right now, it feels like a pitch-dark void is covering us. From sight alone it emits a silky, soft feeling on my paw pads. The round, allegedly purple moon stands out like a sore thumb. 

Oh—

My ears turn sideways. Screeching noises, like claws scraping on rocks, buzz inside my eardrums. The high pitch of these sounds itch throughout their way into my ear canal. 

This disjointed sound pulls the trigger of my anxiety and the adrenaline rush pumps throughout my veins.

I'm fed with these obnoxious panics of mine, but it unleashed a gut feeling I can't pinpoint properly. My body drowns with nausea; fired up aches spread inside me a bit, I sense some kind of dampness that flows from the stomach to my mouth. It's weird and uncomfortable, but I hope it won't last for long.

Argh! Hoarse cacophony vibrates all around the vast land. I… I can't keep up for long!

I move towards the sound, folding my ears to avoid hurting my eardrums. Everything's blurry again, and I'm unable to hear my surroundings. Far away, I glimpse at a shadow near a rock. Is it the same rock from the noises?

As I get closer, a strange ringing becomes stronger. The shadow's long, thin body twitches in my direction. Huh?

It dashes. Straight to me. Out of nowhere.

I let go of my ears for just a second, long enough to hear:

"Get away from my friend! Now!"

Cragger pushes me aside and I fall head first on the ground; there, I squint my eye for a last second, as I fainted, and the shadow wasn't gone.

My eyelids slowly open, my vision starts to regain strength. After a little bit of effort, I see two lions staring at me, their eyebrows raised and lips drooping down.

The lion on the right… is my dad! His shiny gray mane, meticulously separated in half into sleek bangs, is covered with expensive insect wax. I could define his expression as priceless. Though I'm barely recovering my consciousness. In fact, maybe I'm in deep trouble, as his sharp and well cared for teeth are exposed.

Besides him is my uncle; he has a blond, voluminous, messy mane, unique for a lion his age, with a mullet. His dark brown fur, tan caramel muzzle and paws make him eye-catching compared to the rest of my family. His tall and slightly muscular build stands there awkwardly as Dad's small eyes widen, placing his paws gently on my face.

Dad folds his muzzle into a big snarl. Even if I'm feeling kind of disconnected from reality, I know for sure he's ready to spill an hour long lecture. He's the King of the Lions, after all.

"Oh, thanks Mount Cavora, you're finally awake! I'm unable to believe you would get into such a mess, my son.", Dad sighs in relief, "Your arm was deeply clawed; all of that would've been avoided if you had called us. I taught you how to roar, why are you afraid of communicating with us?"

This is too much to process…

Dad continues, "Lavertus. An atrocious attack was targeted towards my son– the prince of the Lion Tribe, my heir, my future! Please, go forth and investigate the area. Search for eyewitnesses and identify this abhorrent criminal."

My uncle shrugs his shoulders, visibly confused. I imagine this is too much for him, just like it is for me. An attack… seriously? I don't remember much, but I can feel my arm numbing.

I try to get up, leaning forward. I place my left arm onto the comfy bed, but pain soon emerges and I'm forced to fall back. My dad's right, he's always right… 

Lavertus leaves the room, and now it's just Dad and I. He sits besides me, on my right side, grabs my hand and holds it fiercely. He doesn't know what happened before this accident, that I rushed after Cragger without hesitation. He's unaware that I almost fell off a cliff. I wished only time would tell, but shouldn't a prince always be honest?...

"Laval", Dad pets my forehead, "tell me what happened. I can't help you if I don't know what you went through.", he whispers.

"Cragger and I were suddenly attacked at The Fangs. A shadow scratched a rock with his nails and jumped on me…"

He itches his lion chin,

"I see. However, something doesn't feel right. How did you get to such a dangerous place, and were you near anyone besides him?"

I stutter in hesitation; how should I explain what happened? Dad's slim body is relaxed, but his eyes still leak concern. My answer was too vague, but I hope he understood what I meant. He needs context to help me.

"My friends were playing together… I was with them. It's just that Worriz insulted Cragger… and he fled to The Fangs. Oh– I almost forgot to tell you that the moon was purple that night.", I added, as my awkward voice trembles.

Dad gets off the chair, then tilts his head to the side, laying his index finger on his mouth. The balcony of my room is bright because of the sun. The sun, that's where my Dad's looking at.

He marches to the door.

His tone of voice settles down, and as he takes his leave, he takes a moment to speak, "I think I've got it. I'll talk with the Eagles, as this incident is quite peculiar and I need an outside perspective about this. They live near The Fangs, so perhaps they can help us. I'll see you at night."

The wooden carved clock, sculpted by my friend Eris, ticks a soothing rhythm each passing second. I follow one of its pointers with my eyes as it slowly circles around, passing by the time markings beneath it.

I hover my head on top of the wound; it's still fresh and shiny, even though it stopped bleeding. The bed sheet I'm laying on top of, covered with red light due to the harsh sun rays hitting my bed curtains, isn't dirty either.

Dull stone walls cover my room, with a few triangular arches carved on them. At least I'm able to view Mount Cavora from here. 

My dad really likes you, Mount Cavora. Even if you're a huge, floating mountain, you brought us life, you brought us Chi. The stone heads that bless us with Chi are what brings us all together, whether past or present, same or different species. Lions, Crocodiles, Eagles, Wolves… Ravens, Gorillas, Bears and Rhinos– we would not be what we are today if it weren't for Mount Cavora. The Great Story is a tale of old, marked by the Chi birthing a new civilization, and that's why Chima got its name– Chi knows it all; or that's at least what my dad says.

Steps reverberate all across the circular stairway up to my room. A shadow seems to emerge before the open door. My body jumps in response, dragging the curtain to hide myself and I end up squirming my injured arm.

The stranger moves towards my bed, as the light hits their body, projecting their silhouette on the bed curtains; they appear to be tall yet soft, resting their closed wings behind the back. I sigh in relief, because this animal does not look like the other shadow that attacked me. I shiver while opening the curtain. Mouth open, inhaling deeply.

I stick out my muzzle, and I am greeted by an eagle.

"Oh no! Please pardon me for startling you. That was quite rude of me.", the bird whimpered, "I'm the nurse your father entrusted to help you. My name is Ehboni."

She holds onto the curtain with her yellow scaled hands, adorned with black feathers that cover her wrist. Now that the blinds are open, I can clearly observe her appearance: her entire figure is covered by well-preened and smooth feathers, but they're quite dark, which made me mistake her for 'the' shadow. An expensive silver necklace, with sapphire jewelry, hangs by her fluffy neck. She smiles, opening her yellow beak.

Ehboni crouches near what looks like a box of medical equipment, and then opens it. 

"Come closer, Laval. I need to inspect your lesion.", she whispers while organizing her materials.

I sit down on the edge of the bed, then she holds my arm and looks at it. After that, she picks up a medicinal leaf, lays it on top of my wound and bandages it.

My ears fall down, my eyebrows frown; I won't be able to do much for some time, but Ehboni says that it won't take long for me to recover.

"Just make sure you don't put strength on your left arm, okay?", she pets my shoulder.

"Alright… but– did you discover anything about my injury? Is it serious?"

Ehboni puts away her utensils, gets up, and says, "Don't worry, sweetie! You didn't suffer any major damage. I'll let Lagravis know the rest."

She leaves before I can react.

Argh! What is this 'rest'? She barely answered my question. The cut's shape seemed suspicious, yet I'm not supposed to know what it is? I fall on my bed and close my eyes shut in frustration, though I don't pretend to sleep anytime soon. It's still daytime.

I– I don't want to stay all day inside my room because of an accident. Even if I need to, at least tell me why!

I squint my eyes to check out if there is anyone else here. The room is quite empty, especially when my toys are all back in their place. I jump out of bed and go to one of the wall's arches, ready to admire the view again. 

Someone knocks on the wall.

"Silly Laval, did you think you were going to be alone all day?", a soft voice murmurs from behind me.

I turn around, realizing that the voice comes from my friend, Eris. I'm confused on how she got here, although I don't doubt her sudden appearance is very convenient. Eagles are quite smart, so it's fair to assume that she somehow snuck into the temple.

She rests her elbow on the arch and leans her head on her wrist. Eris is a little older than my friends and I; her previously stippled bright blue feathers molted and she's starting to grow new white plumes. The sunlight irradiates her, smoothening her body into a cloud, free as the wind, going wherever she pleases. 

Her light yellow eyes shine with brilliance.

"Oh, hey, Eris… It's nice to see you today.", I fiddle with my fingers, looking at my friend with an embarrassing smile, "What a coincidence. I just saw another eagle leave my room."

"That's the reason why I came after you. I overheard the conversation your dad had with mine. Ehboni was there too.", she lets go off the balcony and pets my head.

Oh. So she knows what happened. Great. Never mind how she got inside the Lion temple; I now need to discover what's going on, and why is Dad so secretive about all of this.

"Do you remember what the conversation was about? What did my dad say?"

"Okay… so, they were discussing how to gather information about this case. Lagravis speculates that what happened might've been a targeted attack against you, and thus ordered Ehboni to inspect your injuries."

That's really a lot to digest– it kind of makes sense, and I understand that this situation is serious, but… Why would anyone attack a child? Is that the reason that I'm supposed to not leave this place?

"Eris… would you mind giving your opinion about the situation?"

She shrugs her elbows and bows her head; perhaps asking a tween to dissect a possible hate crime is too much of a stretch. 'Tis too soon to make big assumptions, although the best ye could do is not stay outside at night, she adds in a bittersweet tone.

My best bet would be to observe my surroundings and piece any clues I find. If my dad's suspicions are correct, I'll end up face to face with that shadow again. Let's go to the Fangs!

I hold Eris' arm and tiptoe downstairs.

Eris and I are driving our Speedorz on dry land. The sky darkens as the sun is shining less, but it is not nighttime yet. Pinnacles of stone remain in their place, sticking out of the earth in a pattern similar to a ribcage, more so than fangs.

"These natural structures curve inwards into a shape that facilitates the propagation of sound", Eris whispers. "If anything happens here, we'll be able to hear it clearly."

We are near the area of the incident; amplified noises of chattering and footsteps reach us, which means that my uncle, alongside lion guards, are investigating the scene. We park our Speedorz near a 'fang', and spy the animals there.

Lavertus is crouched, observing the bloodstain my injury left on the ground. A lion guard with light brown fur and long canines analyzes the claw marks of the damaged rock from before. Another lion with an orange mane is taking notes of every minor detail pointed out by his co-worker and captain. 

"Interesting. The slash left by the culprit has a distinct quirk– if we connect the scars, it forms a narrow curve", says the brown-maned feline. "The depth and position of the scratch hints that force was concentrated on the entire hand and arm, which means that they are not a lion."

My uncle replies, "I thought so, Longtooth. We put most of our pressure on our tendons to grip; my nephew's arm was hacked, and blood was drawn from him. We lions don't do that, neither do we hit arms."

Wind weaves the dust away, diffusing along the way the unnerving scent of blood– my blood. The shine no longer descends from the beyond above us, as mist starts to veil each of its rays. The shadows that hide our colors in blue are but a speck of our melancholy.

My blood's smell enters my lungs at every breath.

Each. And every. Breath. 

I take it. Inside me.

Who–

Who is that? Near the blood?

Is that Laval, crouching near the pool of blood, hiding his wound from the monstrous creature? An unrecognizable monster, shadowed by malice?

Its eyes ooze with a purple vapor. How dare it reach towards the innocent prince, with its open mouth, drooling without self control. Maybe it has self control– it has malice. Malice.

The moon blinds me with a dark orchid colored light.

Now… white. All is white. I am not dead, at least. Something yellow is a little too close… is it the sun? 

"Laval! Wake up!", that yellow thing screeches, "Wake up! Please…"

Eris? Is that you?

I latch myself onto her before falling.

It appears that a lot of time has passed– surrounded by a bunch of wolves, and Eris, I scream from the top of my lungs. 

I anxiously whip my tail behind me and I end up hitting someone.

"Ouch! You idiot, watch what you're doing! You slapped my face!", Worriz barks.

The wolves distance themselves from me.

Ahh. I feel much better now… the atmosphere, although humid, stinks no more. It freshens my insides. I let go of Eris, then I examine my surroundings.

This is the Wolf Lair; a giant truck-like vehicle, built out of metal, with a cockpit shaped like a wolf head.

I always knew that wolves didn't have a fixed home, but I underestimated how much space they lived in, and the amount of tonnage space they used.

"Pesky eagle! You came all the way here just for us to pity your friend? We don't have time for trivial incidents like this.", Worriz turns around and stares at me. "I'll tell my dad you're the one bothering me, Laval!"

A door of the Wolf Lair opens, revealing a gray elder wolf, trembling his hind paw to reach the ground. Worriz sprints at the feeble senior to hold his hand and help him gain balance.

His face is wrinkled all around his muscles. His bean eyebrows, due to old age, have loosened into a pitiful expression, accentuated by his dirty tear ducts. His white muzzle is unkempt, falling down on his chin, with long unused whiskers. Even though it's natural, the sight of the natural physical deformities that come with age is saddening. Most of the time, they're not fatal, but you can see the effort it takes to remain alive.

Their tight bond is enough to show that they're father and son. 

The wolves around us whisper, "Wakz! Wakz!"

Wakz smiles with his weak lips, while his son scowls with his teeth exposed.

"Oh Laval… are you feeling better now? Your friend brought you here, away from the scene. My people told me everything– I am deeply sorry for what happened."

I itch my eyelid a bit. A scene?... Ah, that scene. Of course, I came here to understand what happened. Maybe asking Wakz about it could help me reach a better conclusion? We aren't far away from the area of the incident, therefore it wouldn't be too much of a stretch to get information from him…

"Yup… I'm fine, feeling better right now– and, about what you said earlier… Has anyone in your tribe seen something like that? Or did something suspicious happen before that?"

He turns his head and faces the crowd before him, sulking his already gloomy face. To shun your own pack, huh… 

"Quite some time ago, there was a wolf. A big, bad wolf. Unfortunately for us, we didn't know how he became like that, nor why. He was a silent killer, taking others' lives without leaving any trace behind. However… I have yet to find any news of him in more than years.", Wakz grunts, as his voice sounds more frustrated than normal, slouching his body forwards. "I suppose this might help you. Take care, young one."

The elder returns to his base, followed by the others, in a single linear formation. I wonder if they're some kind of hive mind, given how they act like an ant colony. Though I doubt that they would call themselves a colony, and that's because they aren't one.

Eris and I stare at each other in confusion; is this a mystery worth uncovering, or is it just a dangerous dead end? We could come back to Lavertus and ask about what he found.

Weird enough… I was close to the shadow before fainting. Yet… I wasn't able to see it. It's frustrating– if I knew what trait the culprit had, I would've had at least one clue to solve this mystery. I need to find out who committed this crime against me; why would they do something like that, what happened to them? Are they the wolf Wakz mentioned?

Eris covers her beak with her delicate talons, masking her smile. What's all that giggling about? I hold her wrist with my two paws and hover it to me. She, using her unoccupied claws, points behind me, with an adorable expression on her face, almost ready to burst out laughing.

Ugh! This is no time to laugh! My life might be in danger… What are you thinking about—

My ears! Ouch!

I let go of her hand and a firm grip pushes my ears down to the ground. My thump mixes with her laugh and Worriz' barkings. The sounds spread all along the area.

The fall hurts my arm a bit, but I don't mind it, as long as I have my friends with me, seeing their mindless quarrels, funny pranks, crazy adventures...

...Friendship is truly something magical, and I believe we should try to be together as much as possible, because I don't know when it's going to end. Eris lays down on the floor next to me, chattering about the stars, her new discovery about water… She talks about gravity, and that she saw the water following along with the movement of the moon. Amazing isn't it?

I lie sideways, gazing at Eris while she continues her incessant ramblings, explaining how she likes to study, her major interests such as technology and culture of her tribe. She's truly a beacon of knowledge, and I admire her for that.

Moments of peace never last forever; Worriz groans and pushes us around like little toys.

"Oh, hey? What about me, huh? You lovebirds need to listen to others too!", he whines, "Do you guys not know who Wilhurt is, like, seriously? I mean, he hasn't been seen in ages… but if you ended up having your ass beaten by him, then, it's on you. Not my fault you ran up to that guy."

I let out a heavy growl. Why did I invite Worries to play with us in the first place? He's a bratty troublemaker. He bullied Cragger– if it wasn't for that, we wouldn't be here in the first place. Though, he's kind of right, because our fight doesn't have any correlation with… Wilhurt?

Never heard of that name before. It might be important later, though, so I'll keep that in mind.

Shaking movements alert us to three Speedorz approaching the Wolf Lair; they're Lavertus, Longtooth and the orange haired lion from before.

My uncle runs up to me and hugs me. We need to head back home now.

[NEXT]

For anyone who reads this until the end: I hope you enjoyed the first episode of TFLOC! I was struggling with how to end this episode, especially because I noticed that I was losing my momentum on the pacing.

Sorry if the formatting of this post is a little different from the first full sneak peek. It isn't possible to copy all of the paragraphs and paste them into another post, and I don't have the patience to copy each and one of them individually. :(

Please reblog to share my work :D

[littlemissvenom0]

Imagine: “Goodbye to Forever” Emmet Cullen prt2

The evening is darkening fast, thick clouds shrouding the forest in near-blackness, and the familiar weight of fear curls in my stomach. Alice was right; the danger she’d seen in her vision is real. But that hasn’t stopped Bella, and I can’t bring myself to leave her out here, alone and reckless, even as every survival instinct in my body screams at me to turn back.

Bella’s pushing forward through the trees, determined and stubborn as always, trying to prove something to herself. And I’m here, trailing just a few steps behind, making sure nothing gets too close. Every snap of a twig makes me flinch. Without thinking, I reach for the pendant hanging around my neck, the one Emmett gave me.

The ache in my chest is overwhelming. There’s no way he’s ever coming back. The last time I saw him, I was the one who turned away, telling him that forever wasn’t ours to share. I forced myself to walk away from him, but not a day has passed when I don’t feel the absence of him like a gaping wound. I can’t think about it. Not now.

Just as we reach a small clearing, Bella stumbles over a fallen branch, catching herself at the last second. She doesn’t stop. Her determination to find what she’s looking for has her almost blind to the danger she’s running into. We both know what lurks in the shadows, but she keeps going. Just as I start to call out to her, I catch movement out of the corner of my eye—something quick, dark, and closing in fast.

A figure emerges, powerful and swift, moving so fast that I barely have time to react. I feel a rush of cold air sweep past me, and then… Emmett.

He’s standing in front of me, blocking my path, his massive frame imposing and fierce. His eyes lock onto mine, wide with worry and relief, and for a split second, I forget to breathe. He shouldn’t be here. He can’t be here. But he is, just as steady and strong as I remember, and the sight of him knocks the breath out of me.

“What are you doing here?” My voice is a whisper, barely audible over the quiet sounds of the forest.

His gaze doesn’t waver, his face hard as stone, but I see the cracks in his expression—the concern he can’t hide. “Protecting you,” he says simply, his voice low, rough.

I swallow, my heart pounding as I take in the intensity of his stare, the way he stands between me and anything that could be a threat. “Emmett… you shouldn’t have come. You said you wouldn’t.”

He clenches his jaw, and for a moment, his eyes betray him. There’s a storm of emotions there—anger, fear, relief, and something else, something tender that I remember all too well. “I said a lot of things,” he replies, his voice barely holding back the ache. “But when Alice saw you out here… alone… I couldn’t just sit back and do nothing.”

He’s looking at me like I’m all he sees, like everything he thought he’d left behind is right here in front of him again. I feel Bella move beside me, sensing her confusion as she takes in the tension between us. But Emmett’s focus remains on me, his gaze burning with a fierce protectiveness that makes my heart ache.

“What do you think you’re doing out here?” he asks, his voice low and steady, but there’s a faint tremor beneath the surface. “Do you even realize how dangerous this is?”

I straighten, meeting his gaze despite the way it makes me feel raw, exposed. “I couldn’t let her come out here alone.”

“You shouldn’t be out here,” he says, his tone clipped. “Not in a place like this, with things like that” —he gestures to the shadows— “hunting around.”

Bella steps forward, folding her arms, but her voice is soft. “It was my choice to come. I needed to—”

Emmett’s jaw tightens as he cuts her off, though his eyes flicker with understanding. “I get it. But there’s a difference between bravery and throwing yourself into danger without a plan.”

He turns back to me, and I see the hurt in his eyes. I can feel his frustration, his anger at having to see me in this position, but beneath it all, there’s that unbreakable, protective urge that I know I’ll never be able to escape.

“Why did you come?” I whisper, the words catching in my throat.

He takes a deep breath, his voice softening as he steps closer, close enough that I can feel his cool presence. “Because I couldn’t let anything happen to you.” His voice is rough with emotion, and I see the cracks in his resolve.

“You left,” I say, though the words are barely a whisper. “You told me you’d walk away.”

He clenches his fists, the struggle written across his face. “I did. I tried.” He looks down, pain flashing across his features. “But when I thought about you out here, in danger, I realized… I can’t just walk away from you, (Y/N). Not like this.”

I feel the tears welling up, and I look away, the ache in my chest almost unbearable. “It’s not fair, Emmett.”

“No,” he agrees, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s not.”

We stand in silence for a moment, the weight of the past between us, thick and heavy. I can feel his gaze on me, the silent desperation, the unspoken question. He’s here, right in front of me, breaking the promise he made to leave for good. And in his eyes, I see a love he’s tried to bury, a love he’s clearly never let go of, no matter how hard he tried.

After a beat, he reaches out, his fingers brushing my arm, and I shiver at his touch. “I don’t know what the future holds, (Y/N), but I know I can’t let anything happen to you. No matter how much it hurts to be here, I’d rather be here, by your side, than be anywhere else.”

My heart is pounding, and I find myself gripping his arm, the weight of his words sinking in. “You don’t have to do this, Emmett,” I whisper, though a part of me wishes he would stay forever.

He looks at me, his expression fierce and vulnerable all at once. “I know. But I’m here anyway.”

Bella shifts beside us, quietly slipping away, but I barely notice. All I can focus on is Emmett, on the warmth of his presence, the way he’s so close I can feel his steady strength. In this moment, nothing else matters. He’s here, risking the pain of loving someone who can’t promise him forever, simply because he can’t bear the thought of me in danger.

He brushes a strand of hair from my face, his fingers lingering against my skin, and I see the resolve in his eyes, the vow he’s making even without words.

“I’ll keep you safe,” he murmurs, and I can feel the promise in every syllable.

[sergeantrosabellaswan]

The Selection, MCU Crossover Royalty AU

SUMMARY: Fifteen girls. Two princes. One crown. The competition of a lifetime.

CHAPTER SIX

THE INTERVIEW

CHAPTER WORD COUNT: 1262

A NOTE FROM THE AUTHORESS:

I am so terribly sorry! I accidently posted this chapter to another Tumblr account of mine. Never you mind any, dear readers of mine- I caught the error and now am reposting chapter six of The Selection onto the right Tumblr profile!

I forced a smile onto my face as I balanced a plate with a sandwich and sliced fruit on my lap. Much to my surprise, the other Selected women were sweet and kind to me- cousins Peggy and Sharon Carter, Daisy Johnson with her jittery eyes, Chinese-American Melinda May, hyper go happy Darcy Lewis, kind worded Jane Foster, Ruby Hale with her unsmiling lips, Jemma Simmons with her wayward brown curls, Natasha Romanoff with her soft accented words, Staff Sergeant Carol Danvers with her way of walking that commanded respect, rough around the edges sisters Gamora and Nebula Titan, pale haired Yelena Bolova and sweet worded Kamala Khan. I had snuck on my tattered boots before leaving my bedroom suite, on edge from years of raids and eager for comfort.

Phil Coulson was conducting the interview, the other Selected sitting in two neat rows behind the interview podium, Yelena nervously codeswitching between English and Russian. I focused my attention onto my fingernails, short and jagged from being chewed on whenever anxiety would hit me.

“Yelena Bolova, everyone!” Phil ended the interview, sending the girl back to her seat next to Natasha. He smiled charmingly into the camera that was recording everything and broadcasting live across television screens across the nation. “Coming up after the commercial break, we get to know more about Lady Rosebella Swan, so stay tuned!”

Everyone’s eyes were suddenly on me, making me feel extremely self-conscious of myself. Even though I was dressed in a nice dress with my hair tied back in a loose braid and my tattered leather jacket slung over my arms casually, I still felt so naked and exposed.

“Come, come now!” Phil coaxed me gently, and I stood up on shaking legs and made my way over towards him with my heart thudding wildly in my chest. “Here, you can set that plate up right up here now.”

He patted the table that separated the both of us from one another, where I settled my food. Before settling myself into a comfortable position.

“You are allowed to be nervous,” he coached me in a gentle tone. “But I do think that it would be best for you to show people that you are nervous- after all, people see you as a fish out of water.”

“What are you on about?” I asked him, taking his device from him, where I saw a live video playing of the interview. I rewound a few seconds previously and saw that when he announced who was next up to be interviewed, it was footage of me fighting bandits back in Wakanda, dirt and grit on my face as arrow after arrow left my bow, deadly and fierce. All in all, the videography was expressive and told a story in the short ten seconds of the segment.

“How do you feel?” he asked me quietly, leaning in to better hear me as someone came up with a microphone to hook me up.

I shrugged, my nerves on high alert as I was fitted, my mind in a clear set fight or flight mode.

“And we’re back again! Joining me is Lady Rosabella Swan of Wakanda!”

I knew that this was my cue to say something, but I could only blink slowly.

Phil paused for a moment to give me time to speak if I wanted before rolling into his short introduction.

“Coming from the small town of Wakanda, located just on the outskirts of Brooklyn, Lady Rosabella Swan comes from a tight knit community where bandits hunt and kill as they please. Armed with her trusty bow and arrow, this warrior queen is not afraid to do whatever it takes to defend those who she loves.”

I wrinkled my nose at his descriptive quip, and he caught it.

“So do tell me, how you felt about being among the fourteen other Selected?” he asked me first.

“I didn’t know that I had been among the Selected until the king and the princes rolled up to Wakanda with the news,” I answered after a moment’s hesitation. “No one in Wakanda has a TV or a radio. Those are considered as luxuries, and we didn’t have the time of day for anything like that.”

“Oh.” Here, Phil blinked, having been taken completely by surprise by my blunt answer. “What is your favorite childhood memory?”

“I don’t really have those either,” I confessed sheepishly. “But I remember when I first killed a bandit- I threw up everything that I’d eaten for breakfast just a few short hours beforehand and was unable to sleep for four nights in a row.”

“Oh my…” I felt bad for breaking the man.

“Wakanda is not for the faint at heart, I can say that much,” I chuckled humorlessly. “There was only one cow, so milk was almost always rationed, along with eggs, meats and breads. Clothings were patched time and time again until they were practically being held together by thread. My favorite pair of boots are being held together by duct tape- look here now!” I raised the skirt of the pretty dress I was wearing to show off my favorite boots, pieced together with endless strips of duct tape. “Education was deemed worthless- our first priority was surviving, and what use would being able to read a book be if we weren’t able to do that? I would often go to bed three or four days in a row without food in my belly just to ensure that everyone at least had a little bit to eat.”

I could tell that everyone was staring at me in horror at the clear picture I was painting for them.

“I’m an orphan thanks to the bandits. We would get hit by them, seemingly almost every other day, sometimes up to two or three times in a single day. They have one thing only on their minds- kill. They killed my da, and they dragged my mom off and they-” I choked, forcing myself not to cry. “There’s not a day that passes by when I don’t hear her screams echoing in my head.”

Several gasps reached my ears as the only tear slid down my face.

“We didn’t have much, but what all we had, we shared with one another; clothes, food and tools alike,” I finished up, hating how vulnerable I was.

The entire room was silent for a few minutes, the stillness only breaking when a bloodied figure tumbled into the room.

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