#head empty only maiden au

[pilot-boi]

Arkos time travel au where they adopt Cinder.

Death isn’t painful, which is a surprise and a relief after the beating she took in her final moments. The flame hot pain that enveloped her body, centered on the point where the arrow entered her chest, vanishes in an instant.

The transition from death to waking is so smooth that for several moments Pyrrha doesn’t realize she’s alive.

She’s alive.

How is she alive?

She was dead, she died, she was never SUPPOSED to survive her journey up the tower.

Faced with unexpected future, after fulfilling her destiny in the most terminal way possible, Pyrrha realizes that for the first time in her life she doesn’t know what to do.

She doesn’t even know where she is.

She’s laying in a four-poster bed, in a room dressed in luxury. It reminds her of some of the hotels her agent would put her up in, although no Mistral hotel would be this opulent.

A door creaks open, and Pyrrha’s head whips up.

A young girl walks in, meets her eyes, and immediately flinches back and starts babbling apologies.

“I didn’t know you were here, I’m sorry, I thought this room was empty, I’m sorry, I won’t disturb you again, I’m sorry.”

Coal-black hair, ember-bright eyes. A collar on her neck, rags on her too-thin shoulders, and pleas dripping from her lips.

Do you believe in destiny?

Five words rasped from a dying Champion to a victorious Maiden. And if Pyrrha didn’t believe them then, she definitely would now, staring at what can only be a younger version of her murderer.

Gods, Cinder can’t be more than 10.

———

Death is painful, which is an expected and a relief after the years of living in a paradise after committing the worst act a person could. His breaths choke in his throat, nausea and pain rising as something stiffens his joints one by one until he’s convulsing on the ground.

It’s not until Jaune’s staring up at Alyx’s remorseless face that he remembers, that he realizes that this is another way he’s ruined the story. “The Rusted Knight drinks the poison in her stead.”

She’s killing him, she killed him. The poison is in his heart. It’s nothing less than he deserves.

The transition from death to waking is so abrupt that for several moments Jaune doesn’t realize he’s no longer dying.

He’s not dying.

Why is he not dying?

He wasn’t planning on dying, he hadn’t expected to get poisoned when he sat down by the fire, but now that he’s not dying he just… doesn’t understand why.

This is how the story is supposed to end, and even now he’s messing it up.

And, secondary note, where the heck is he?

He’s laying in a bed, an actual bed, more comfortable than any he can remember. There’s furniture and actual glass in the windows, but what really throws him is the fireplace. Jaune is up and stamping it out in a panic before he realizes his surroundings aren’t made of paper.

Not only that, but he’s not in most of his armor. Breastplate, pauldrons, and bracers, but that’s it. And all shiny as the day he got them.

A door creaks open, and Jaune looks up in a daze.

A young girl walks in, meets his eyes, and immediately flinches back and starts babbling apologies.

“I didn’t mean to intrude, I’m sorry, I can remake the fire for you, I’m sorry, I won’t disturb you again, I’m sorry.”

Hair dark as soot, eyes bright as flame. Bruises on her wrists and face, the light of hunger wracking her frame, and apologies dripping from her lips.

How can you be so broken inside?

Seven words screamed by a broken Knight at an uncaring Maiden. And though Jaune didn’t understand then, he certainly does now. It would be just his luck to die and come back and still manage to be haunted by the one person who took so much from him, looking like everything has been taken from her.

Gods, Cinder can’t be more than 10.

[barbika1508]

Vicious malevolent dragon (Dragon!Min Yoongi x Reader)

Words: 6,1k

Genre: Dragon AU, Romance, Soulmates/ Mates, Smut

Pairing: Dragon!Min Yoongi x Reader

Warnings: Mention of torture and abuse // Knotting, Possessiveness, Praise kink

Summary: Rural villages all hide secrets. Not this one. This one rejoices in the taking of a life once a year to pay for their foolish assumption of safety very much delusional. Not only does the chosen maiden get to live, she finds the love of her life who would burn the world down for her.

Author’s note: Hydria – water jar (pottery) This was inspired by a fic on AO3 which for the life of me I can’t track down.

/ BTS Masterlist /

The smell of smoke fills my lungs from top to bottom making it hard to breathe the burning taking up my attention as my eyes spill with tears, cries choked out of me specially thanks to the jostling of my body, tremors and harsh holds leaving nasty bruises and wounds in their wake.

Though haziness my attempt at escaping has been prevented as they’ve captured me. My feeble attempts at punching and kicking earn me harsher push backs, as I’m slammed onto the ground, my limbs pulled uncomfortably as restrains fasten inhumanely leaving me bound, unmoving and crying out in pain. The self-preservation part of me has me wiggle around.

In retaliation I receive a punishment in the form of a hit delivered to my right side cracking my ribs. Another follows as my legs get pulled twisted one over another the restraints digging into my ankles splitting skin and drawing blood.

Another scream leaves my parted mouth as the smoke remains enveloping me, the dizziness it’s bringing hurting the most. The ash-iness of it almost comforts me, lack of warmth terrifying as my body rests bare to many unwanted eyes the chill of the night air keeping me further awake into the nightmare.

Grubby hands force rings, bracelets, necklaces pounds of golden jewellery over my restrained limbs, breaking and twisting fingers and bones the added weight another restraint from freedom.

The chanting and cheering from people rise in volume, gleeful laughter piercing the air, manic in comparison to my torment and despair sinking its claws in me air something I’m able to sob for barely getting any as the townsfolk swing their blazing torches near my face my body, forcing me to inhale the smoke that’s ruining and eating up my lungs.

Through half blinded gaze I spot disfigured greedy grins, colourful and flower-patterned attire’s mocking me as they lead me towards death.

Even children aren’t merciful their giggle’s terrifying in the back as they shout insults that I’m sure they will get chided for come tomorrow. The devils come out at night they say.

A cry tears its way from my throat leaving me with an iron taste. I barely am able to spit it out the bile of the smoke halted as they slam me onto something metallic, the hit to the back of my head leaving my vision spinning as well as my thoughts, pain mercilessly keeping me awake. I register the way they pull my hands above my head, my twisted legs fixated.

The smoke of torches returns drying out my tears, as my head gets positioned to lie facing the empty vast night sky, stars beyond unrecognizable as the darkness overpowers the fog before my eyes. I can spot licks of flames from the torches that for the first time since regaining consciousness reman at bay as a man’s voice booms in the clearing, his croaking laughter ending whatever speech or words of supposed wisdom he pridefully spoke.

It goes eerie quiet while dark spots begin to swim in my eyes, consciousness finally slipping as I’m ready to accept death, to be relieved of the evens and the final moments of my life. I am almost thankful for the lack of vision as I’m spared from clear images of my disfiguration – of my own murder.

The roar from a beast is heard loud and clear rattling everyone till the bones, the sound petrifying as it echoes in the clear of the night.

As the crowd of murderess roar in triumph, cheers of supposed victory overpowering, deafening me in the protest only then do I feel fear sink into me. Pain demands to be felt there is no way out of it but to endure. But panic has its way of crawling under one’s skin, seizing up the body and mind taking mindless control of one’s actions and reactions.

The roaring of the beast whom we were all told since birth to always hide and run away from. And yet those fears I’ve had since I was a babe don’t compare to the horrifying shouts of joy and delight coming from none other than humans.

The monsters, devils that begin to leave to their festivities, they are the terrors to fear – their ruthlessness harsher than any mindless creature can deliver.

Still persistent my mind stays awake even if everything else begins to shut down, body ablaze with pain I cannot even comprehend anymore – cannot begin to describe as it has no beginning and no end.

I barely flinch at a whistle ringing out near my ear something like a breath fanning near my right side, a touch to my entangled hair adorned with jewels and gold unfazing me.

‘’You should have said yes to my marriage proposition.’’ The voice says with elation tutting after ‘’Such a shame.’’

The roar and flap of what I can only assume are wings sound closer the humming of the man taunting renewing tears behind my eyelids ‘’Sacrifices are always fun don’t you think?!’’

For starters I wake up gasping for air, lungs working double the speed to regain the loss of oxygen. My body lunges forth sitting upright fingers curling in fists as my eyes dart around the dark room searching for the danger present. Lucky, nothing of sorts looms anywhere near besides the dying embers coming from my left and the midst of the spacious room the bonfire serving to warm me during these cold nights and to cook meals from.

Despite the emptiness my senses remain on alert even as my hands fall over my lap exhaustion following. Drenched in sweat I smack my dry mouth a few times the taste unpleasant the nightmare having rattled me, the remnants of it causing shivers to run down my spine, goosebumps a side effect.

I contemplate moving not really wanting to leave the safe haven of the makeshift bed built from rich furs but the dryness in my throat only gets more persistent and the uncomfortableness of my night shirt clinging to my back growing.

Pushing myself up I crawl over until my bare feet press against the stone of the carved-out floors that have been smoothed out. Reaching for my boot’s my body aches muscles tense, even as I push myself onto my feet.

Stopping near the dying heart, I blow onto the embers a few times adding two smaller logs onto them the fire quick to catch on rekindling and growing anew providing more light to the closed off space.

The cold in the air isn’t bothersome or all that noticeable to my overheated skin, but it brings back that familiar odd sensation of feeling too exposed. Even if I am the only occupant of the mountain. Heading to the opposite side from the furs I peek into the closed off chamber the mountains of gold and treasures strewn across the cave room, additions of books and weapons thrown to the side the piles noticeably smaller signalling the novelty to the hoard.

Sidestepping past them, I reach the makeshift wardrobe that has been halfway built clothes lying folded instead of hung. By passing them I grab for the fur cloak I’m most familiar with, one than completely covers my body and keeps me warm no matter what I wear underneath.

Feeling slightly more comforted I make my way back into the living space towards a particular chest which contains some meat to be eaten tomorrow, along with one piece of bread and randomly picked fruit from two days ago. At the cheat’s side lies a hydria thankfully replenished with water from the stream just outside around the corner of the hidden cave I’m safely tucked in.

I greedily drink the cool liquid not caring of the possibility of a sore throat as I’m more starved of liquid than I assumed I was.

Once the water spills past my lips I slow down my haste catching my breath, at least feeling somewhat better. Tucking the jar back into its place I offer a glance at the empty furs, the appeal non-existent anymore.

My feet lead me towards the exit on their own passing the narrow passage newly built, a huge boulder having been laid in front of what used to be a vast open space into the cave now concealed.

The bite of the cold I welcome as it nips at my cheeks and nose awakening me further. The tiredness still lingers it always does but the change is welcomed as I lay my eyes on the vast forest stretching bellow. Walking to the edge of the ledge my knees buckle as I make myself comfortable sitting on the ground burrowing in the cloak, consoled by the smell of smoke that clings to the fur.

Yawning quietly, I observe the area my eyes drawn to the light protruding in the darkness peeking over hilltops neatly tucked away in shelter. I scoff turning my attention upwards to the half full moon my heart always fluttering whenever I see it and the stars. The constellations as always draw themselves inside my mind connecting right in front of my eyes brining a smile to my lips.

To think I almost lost my sight.

I sigh as my body begins to ache the familiar ghost of old pains arising, specially whenever the moon is nearing its fulness the magic tug from it always demanding to be felt. But as I once felt fear of its power, I’ve embraced its light instead.

I shudder as a breeze wafts past ruffling my hair that lays unruly around my head and shoulders. My teeth chatter together for a mere moment. I welcome the cold that cools my skin having turned it rosy, pink.

Closing my eyes, I let my head lull towards the sky, an old lullaby surfacing in the back of my mind brisk to make an appearance as my voice comes out in a hum the melody getting lost in the air.

Soon enough the familiar flapping of wings pierces gently through the odd haze I’ve lulled myself into. Upkeeping the melody my hum softens as my eyes fall open upturned towards the moon, a shadow passing by it – something that would alarm any normal being.

And yet here I am with my heart fluttering in my chest, my woes melting away, tension lessening from my entire being. As I fall silent the sound disappears leaving me all alone the whispers from the wind playing with the mountain peaks making its own song along. I try pinpointing his entrance liking to pretend I have a keen sense for him. As I glance above my head half expecting his descend to be dramatic, I’m left with a smile as I turn to look to my left straightening my back meeting with silver orbs resembling igneous silver.

The hulking beast that towers higher than any common house, larger than three wagons combined, bigger than life itself I’d say begins to shift, shrinking in size the sounds of bones shifting and cracking not fear inducting as it used to be. Throughout its change I keep my eyes fixated on its eyes relieved of the loneliness from the past two days getting erased instantaneously.

Remaining seated on my spot with my legs crossed – mostly due to his many chidings and scolding’s whenever I sit near the edge – I watch silently as a humanoid form of a man appears from the shadows two horns remaining atop of the male’s head his silhouette entrancing as always.

Stepping closer I pick up on coins cluttering together a sack revealing itself thanks to the light of the moon a moment further. Besides, it lay a couple of dead rabbits strung together they being small prey animals eliciting a raised eyebrow in question as I look up once more, glad to set my eyes on my beloved’s softened features.

‘’Looking out to get sick again?’’ his voice comes out gruff almost animalistic his loot and prey left forgotten dropped as he walks over quick to kneel, bare arms making contact as he attempts to pull his own fur cloak which I’m wearing tighter together as if to protect me.

‘’Alas not tonight.’’ I tease him, frown remaining on his face as his irises remain glowing silver taking me in. His warm hand comes to cup my cheek switching up as he presses the back of his fingers over my forehead ‘’I’m alright.’’ I roll my eyes pushing at his hand trying to reassure him knowing full well where this is going as he lets out a growl as I intertwine our hands together ‘’You’re here, I’m more than fine.’’ I switch tactic but smile genuinely as I take him in, his dark hair familiar horns sticking upwards, features sharp as he is not entirely convinced.

‘’As sweet as your words may be, don’t keep me a fool human.’’ He growls sounding annoyed but for a fact I know he isn’t. Keeping back a chuckle I end up nodding trying to put on a serious expression breaking immediately feeling nothing but love and adoration for him.

‘’I’d never ever dream of doing that oh mighty dragon from the north.’’ I find myself playfully squeaking in laughter as he growls threateningly but makes quick work of grabbing me. With ease I get lifted into his embrace thrown over his shoulder the change of position eliciting giggles to rush past my lips.

‘’She giggles.’’ He grumbles stepping over to his loot ‘’You should be begging for your life, human not giggling like a child at my presence.’’

Picking up his things I muse at the dragon holding onto his hips to not swing so wildly ‘’Can’t help it I’m afraid. You’re a very charming dragon after all.’’

His chest grumbles I’m sure pleased with my words. He carries us inside silent making sure to lay me down gently on the furs his handling bringing brief vertigo, which gets chased away swiftly his hand touching under my chin ‘’Be good.’’ Is all he says as he gets up and walks across the room storing the rabbits first while at the same time granting me the view of his bare skin and glorious backside as he bends over.

I tut to myself grinning widely once he spares me a look grumbling something to himself.

‘’Practically oozing charm.’’ I compliment further even as he straightens and ignores me heading off to check on his hoard.

Smiling to myself feeling hot thanks to his mere presence – as the fire is dying once more – I shrug of his cloak throwing my boots from the furs to burrow beneath them the difference of having him here tremendous.

And yet as I lie down and wait for him wearing nothing but his shirt, my joy diminishes the space I’m back in bringing the nightmare to resurface as I remember the clammy feeling and terror I felt when I woke up. My gaze darts to the small fire and the smoke as it rises towards the ceiling, a small opening a crack in the rocks enabling some to escape.

I can hear coins and heavier object in various sizes clattering. It should be reassuring that he is here, I should be fine just knowing he is at arm’s reach. But as I sit up my limbs begin to shake, cold sweat making an appearance as what I feel like my soul gets weighted – the heft of the gold I was forced to wear that night remains as a ghost feeling over my skin.

A whole-body shudder runs through me my vision getting slightly blurry but not from tears. I tear my gaze away from the fire sniffling quietly pushing at the furs prompting the makeshift pillow behind me lying on my hip.

Yoongi stalks forward silently still nude as the day he was born – hatched as he’d explained once – gaze intent as it fixates on me. I preoccupy myself with fluffing up the furs not wanting to have the conversation right now. Reaching the end, he’s quick to lie down and crawl closer taking my hand gently into his stopping me from moving.

Unable to look at him I stare at our joined hand’s letting him pull me into his embrace the warmth he is emitting familiar and like a fresh breath of air itself. Greedily I wrap my own arms around him hating that my body begins trembling, hating the lump in my throat and numbness settling in my chest as flashes of colour appear before my eyes.

‘’Shhhh I’m here beloved.’’ His voice is soft ‘’I won’t let anyone ever hurt you again.’’

 His caresses mean everything chasing away the torturous heavy weight of gold feeling from my skin, soothing my body tremors, easing my breathing as I match his heartbeat hand splayed over his bare chest between us. He attempts to hum a melody which impresses me tremendously given he has spent some time in his dragon form voice having gone unused.

It’s his effort and willingness, patience that keep me comforted and with a fluttery heart. Vicious malevolent dragon huh?

His tongue darts out licking a part of my cheek the action still after all this time having me jerk away his arms preventing me from backing away too much. Scrunching up my nose as I smile turning, he’s utmost serious as he stares at me, silver reappearing in his mostly brown irises.

‘’I don’t think you can fix night terrors that easily, my love.’’ I note reaching up to cup his face running both thumbs over the apple of his cheeks, the growl and showing of sharpened teeth not at all intimidating even as his frown deepens.

‘’You don’t know for sure.’’ He’s quick to retort long tongue making an appearance to which I attempt to cover his mouth, not at all bothered as his tongue brushes over the inside of my palm brining more chuckles to resurface.

‘’My love, my heart, my everything it’s alright.’’ I speak softly feeling how my heart blooms for the dragon holding onto me tightly ‘’You’ve done more than enough truly.’’ I pull my hand back and point silently at myself ‘’The dreams will pass, your mage friend said so himself. Don’t fret to much over me. Your scales are going to go grey to soon.’’ I muse towards the end, making a point to grab onto his left horn him letting me get away with it telling me he’s putty in my arms.

‘’I don’t care about that.’’ he grumbles remaining serious ‘’You’re my only concern of course I’m going to fret.’’ Leaning in I don’t stop him as he’s quick to connect our lips sharp teeth making an appearance but never drawing blood, as he kisses with somewhat of a buried need that’s only growling given the way how his grip tightens around me, strong hands firm but not hurtful.

It’s easy for him to upkeep the kisses his passion bringing a smoky thang to how he taste’s something I’ve gotten used to. Gasping once his tongue prods at my lips he breaks it off moving over my cheek, licking over the small cut I’ve manage to achieve by descending to the woods yesterday to pick some pomegranates.

I quiver upon feeling the skin healing itself, his saliva having magical proprieties. It’s how he literally mended me together so to speak.

Left broken and chained to an altar barely clinging onto my life he descended that very same night to claim the offerings of the village having been mostly of produce and gold, the year clearly being twisted into something vile – a human sacrifice.

It wasn’t hard to hear or feel him his beastly form something out of this world my brain far too gone to comprehend him in the first place. But through my blurry gaze his eyes were the first thing I’ve set my gaze upon. His deafening roar filled me with some type of energy – it was as if he called out for my soul to tether itself right back to my body. The warm he exuded felt scorching hot unbearable but not like the torches – his heat and warmth were like a blanket draped over me.

The few times I’ve asked him, prodded more so for an answer why he saved me in the first place given I was broken and beyond salvation even in my own opinion I’ve never gotten a clear reply. He either smiled knowingly or set his jaw tight remembering the night something causing him pain, himself.

‘’You were meant for me.’’

Those famous words of his still to this day keep ringing in my head from time to time.

***

‘’Holy fuck you feel so good.’’ I hiss in the beginning ending up whining, my body feeling like it’s on fire. Given the man in front of me literally can breathe fire, is just a bonus.

His chest grumbles against the palm of my right hand where it rests near his heart. Going past that detail my mind is entirely preoccupied with the feeling of him, as I continue for right now slow descent onto his cock, which is filling me already impossibly so. But given our practice and mainly his determination not to harm me I’m left tearless and aching for the pleasure, for the extasy that’s promised and within my grasp.

‘’Hmm, do I?’’ comes his raspy tone, a hint of smoke leaving past his lips his struggle with staying still evident in the tight hold he has over my hips upholding me more so than I am myself, as I sink down on him, stopping just above his knot the actions coming from his side. I reopen my eyes to look at him in question and amusement, finding his eyes screwed shut his control slipping which he’s trying to desperately reign in.

But there are more black scales making an appearance, humanoid form morphing into his dragon side the sight only arousing further, the tinge of danger always present in these moments, making it addicting whenever he begins losing some of his saint like control.

Speechless my mouth opens and closes uselessly, thighs starting to shake increasingly the harder I try to ride him, his hands pulling me down not entirely helpful.

‘’AH FUCK!’’ I find myself shouting at a particularly harsh pull coming from his end, making me sink almost entirely onto him, knot kissing my lower lips ‘’Ahhh Y-Yoongi-yahh…’’ I cry breathless tears glossing my eyes, my body trying to fold together which of course his hands prevent to do so, his right one suddenly getting placed over my chest.

‘’You are doing so great, beloved.’’ He praises coming closer, muscles tensing under my hands as his hands switch from my hips, arms wrapping around me touch tender tracing my skin ‘’So amazing. My pretty mate.’’ His tone lowers but grown more affectionate, kisses beginning to be spread over my face.

‘’Mate.’’ I repeat after him, enjoying the vibrations emitting from his chest, letting my hands trace his defined chest. I notice the amused smile he sports letting me to my own devices, the need to reach our releases momentarily not a priority.

‘’Yes, my mate. Mine. You are mine.’’ He confirms words holding heaviness. Without fail it makes me feel that we were destined for each other since birth. It’s what he loves to remind me, oh big dragon with an inkling to prophecy Yoongi is always so assured we are meant to be. I’ve long ago started believing him.

‘’Mine.’’ Again, I repeat eyes fleeting to his own, the power he holds nothing for me to be afraid of, the heaviness his irises hold. But also, the love, the amour, the baring of his soul I see whenever I look at him. I must admit it is the most amazing feeling in the world to know, be aware and accept someone’s love and adoration the only hard thing not to get to overwhelmed with it at times.

‘’Mine.’’ He agrees closing the distance mindful of bumping his head against my own – something he’s always been cautious about – horns a thing of magnificence even in their trait of harmfulness that could bring me. I’ve never shied away from them, eagerness a human trait he told me. It hasn’t stopped me before and it won’t stop me now, as I meet him halfway. It has been barely 2 days that he was absent but each time he leaves an emptiness appears in my chest. An emptiness I know he’s always willing to fill right up.

Its why I’m ready for our kisses to transition from sweet and almost timid into ones of hunger and lust his tongue shameless swiping over my lower lip, earning himself a wanton moan as I grant him entrance, tongue twisting with mine not keeping this at all shy anymore or reserved.

He is a beast after all, a mighty dragon known to take what belongs to him – and what doesn’t – known to be monstrous, strong, invulnerable. He is going to take what he wants.

He has taken my heart.

At his hands landing onto my hips again fingers slipping into the juncture where my thighs meet my torso my body gradually tenses up, knowing he has something up his sleeve the kiss getting broken ‘’Shhhhh, don’t fret beloved.’’ He calms kissing me once more ‘’Relax Y/N-ah, relax…’’ like a siren luring its prey with its voice alone Yoongi has this effect on me but not thanks to magic or his draconic abilities.

It’s because I’ve learned to trust him wholeheartedly, my body in-tune with him more so than my own thoughts at times proven now as my muscles loosen listening to him before I can register his words entirely, his actions clicking in my mind a moment after as he begins pushing me onto his knot.

My hands redirect from resting against his chest to wrap around his neck, having done this quite a few times I’ve learned to arch my back and focus on my breathing ‘’Ah that’s it, what a good girl you are for me.’’ The praises keep on coming, the kiss he presses to my temple a human gesture he picked up from me, sending my heart into a fluttering spiral.

I let my head fall sideways trying to watch how he begins to stretch me impossibly wide, pain always a factor in our intimacy but not to an unbearable point. It always promises pleasure to accompany and overshadow it.

As I sink onto his bulbous knot further whines arise automatically, being vocal something I can only do with Yoongi.

‘’My pretty mate.’’ He breathes out losing the composure he has gained, voice sounding strained finally his hands steadily pushing me down I’m certain listening to the way I’m breathing watching how I’m reacting. Known to be greedy, my dragon mate is anything but when it comes to me his love overpowering his most primal traits – he has proven it time and time again, love having overtaken us both entirely, Eros’s arrow entirely wound into our hearts.

‘’Ah p-pretty huh…’’ I half-chuckle ending up groaning as I sink on the widest part, whining in protest as it doesn’t stop, bottoming out not always my favorite part.

‘’Fffffff…you’re so tight.’’ Yoongi grunt’s his hold on the verge of leaving my skin bruised. He avidly tries to avoid marking me in such way, rather slathering his scent – or semen – or love bites in a controlled manner over my skin.

‘’N-noo…’’ I chuckle ‘’You are just big.’’ I grin widely, knowing my words always raise his confidence. And there’s nothing that I prefer more than seeing my mate happy ‘’F-fuck you’re b-big…’’ the realization always weirdly daunts me, as he shifts his hips the slightest my body in tune with his entirely.

It’s a sensation I’ve grown accustomed to – like many things – to be in sync with him, to be relaxed or calm as he is, temperature catching up to his but in a safe manner, body accepting more strain. It’s a whole another thing to be connected to him like I’m now feeling as one with my mate always a magical experience. Even if he finds my description of it being magic funny, he agrees it carries those types of properties.

‘’You keep flattering me tonight, beloved.’’ Chest rumbly his lowered raspy tone sends a shiver down my spine, my cunt clenching around him ‘’Have you missed me that much? Did I leave you alone for too long?’’

Instead of teasing me he turns soft. Regaining some thinking capabilities, I lift my head not concerned with my expression neither the way I look right now as I let my eyes feast upon him, how handsome he is and collected again.

‘’Hmm possibly.’’ I begin honestly ‘’I always miss you when you leave, my love. 3 days, 1 day, 1 hour.’’ I pause seeing a shift in his eyes surprise something that always delights me ‘’I always want you by my side, my mighty dragon. Call me greedy. All I want is you.’’

Speaking from the heart is not something I usually do, emotions hard to deal with most of the time. But never when it comes to him. I’ve always found it rather straightforward when it comes to Yoongi, the fear, the confusion, the realization when I started falling for him, and even after coming to terms with my soul calling for his it’s been blissfully easy.

Something suddenly fills my chest. Pride? Love? Complete and utter adoration? It can be all of those, his emotions reflected in his expression and eyes, heart feeling like it’s going to burst, our link stronger than ever my confession causing his dragon part to let out a roar, as he howls at the sky looking magnificent, and terrifying to whoever dares to send a look his way.

Like before giggles bubble up my chest, even as he manhandles us around mouth hot as he begins his assault of delivering as much kisses as fast as he can, to an overwhelming degree his antics always welcomed. He’s bubbling with emotions, another rarity that Yoongi’ doesn’t show too often.

‘’My pretty, pretty mate. All mine.’’ He begins to growl, and mutter under his breath like a man crazed hands having flipped us around, resulting in my upper torso lying on the piled-up furs comfortably, whist he keeps my lower part and legs wrapped around him, bodies still very much so tightly wound together and connected, his hard cock not having softened a bit.

‘’Yahh Yoongi-yahh…’’ I call out teasingly, the disrespectful title I’m addressing him with always softening him, till some degree ‘’Wahh, I’ll take it you’ve missed me too.’’ my giggles get cut short, as his hands begin to knead my breasts, the dragon always happy to pinch my nipples that are already sensitive enough his touches at times downright cruel.

‘’Missed you…’’ he finally slows his frenzy of kisses ‘’…I always miss you.’’ The confession follows as he slows to a stop, hands exploring my body touch more sensual.

I let my hands drift to his cheek’s thumbs caressing his warm skin ‘’My heart belongs to you, love of my life.’’

Lowering onto his elbows he comes closer expression neutral. It’s his eyes that reflect what he’s feeling, chest full of emotions, I can feel the heat radiating from him can almost hear how his heart is thundering ‘’As mine does to you, my soul.’’

Buckling his hips, I’m startled pleasantly the spark between us regaining igniting our bodies and their needs coming to the front, emotions taking a step back. We’ve deprived ourselves to long, almost cruelly so holding back, lust a gluttonous thing growing impossible to ignore.

Pulling back slowly he’s still mindful of my body even if he lightly begins to tremble vibrations from his chest something primal from within him, that he cannot always control. His eyes silvery and deadly, indicate he is ready to devour. And yet in all his glory, his power, reputation, his proving and sheer strength Yoongi holds himself back, until his knot pops back out making him hiss, heat hitting my face as he gasps, my body shuddering at the feeling of brief emptiness.

I have to raise my head to see where we are connected, ending up surprised how wet my folds are. The sight causes warmth to hit my cheeks and chest eyes almost shy as I look up watching him as he sits up, readjusting ending up hovering over me, propped on his left hand right holding me.

‘’Come on.’’ I breathe out before I can stop myself, his predatory eyes fixing on my own ‘’Please. I need you please take me, Yoongi-ah.’’

He grunts as in warning, everything he’s displaying shouting ‘DANGER’ loud and clear.

He’s going to wreck me, absolutely destroy me, that much I can see is a promise in his eyes. And I can only bite onto my lower lip in anticipation, awaiting the destruction.

Gone is time for words, for begging, or normal human function as a matter of fact. More dragon than human, Yoongi isn’t gentle as much anymore as he pulls back and thrust back in the flare of pain at his quickness and assertiveness making an appearance, sparks beginning to roll fucking finally, my body only now showing signs of depravity as I’ve began going sensitive, breath hitching.

His hips hitting against my own, begin echoing around the spacious cavern skin slapping against skin not a sound I find shameful anymore. The growling that’s coming from deep within his throat is an indicator I’m doing something right, that I’m giving my mate pleasure even if he is chasing it himself. He is absolutely mesmerizing, holding himself above eyes focused on where we are connected, brows furrowed in concentration. His body built, shoulders and torso muscular thanks to his dragon form he feels like some sort of divinity above me, enveloping me in all his might, protecting me from everything, my soul delivering an onslaught of pleasure that begins spiking my heart rate, my skin feeling like it’s on fire, nothing else mattering in the world, only him.

It’s not even humanly possible to register the amount of pleasure he delivers initially let alone now that he speeds up, grabbing me under my knees spreading my legs further apart changing the angle he’s pistoning into me with the intention of ruin.

My voice gone, moans the only form I’m able of communication tears have already painted my cheeks and the side of my face with trails of salty water, while my body is his to control, not many function left besides the burrowing of my hands in the furs the need to hold onto something for dear life an automatic response as I’m sent hurling into the abyss of pleasure that keeps on rolling out, thanks to my mate.

He is not so far from me either, the pressure bellow beginning to increase halfway through the haze I’ve fallen into, the world spinning only around us two at the moment, his panting bringing me back to reality, whines softening my heart all at once.

Letting go of the furs I open my arms wide eagerly accepting as he falls into me, hips for the last time hitting my own as he bottoms out, making me cry out as he fills me oh so good knot engorged locking us together, his own bliss achieved as my dragon, my Yoongi lies safely and warm in my arms, eyes floating into his own haze of pleasure.

Shuddering I attempt to readjust the furs to make us more comfortable, his warning growl once more brining out giggles from me, as I proceed to accommodate us despite my tummy beginning to grow. I’ve got us rather quickly and with practiced ease covered up and not at all dislodged in the process, Yoongi’s face buried in the furs next to my head body a welcomed weight atop of me.

Loving the warmth, the heat, and most importantly his embrace I always am fascinated when I feel his heart beating against me, our chest somewhat aligned. Patient like he was with me, I keep still hands treading through his hair occasionally running up his rigged horns silently appreciating him as I hum the lullaby from before.

‘’I should teach you common sense.’’ Is the first thing he says, voice half muffled by the furs. I hum in question curious at his words, hands stopping briefly as he moves his head to the side his breath ghosting over the right side of my face ‘’Giggling when facing dragons, or growling beasts. It is not a wise thing to do.’’

At his explanation I burst into laughter, my lover catching me entirely of guard, my voice echoing as light begins to flood slowly but surely into the cave morning rising.

‘’Ah human.’’ He growls affectionately ‘’My beloved human.’’

Copyright 2023© by barbika1508. All rights reserved.

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 39.5

(this takes place just before their first day back to school after the events of season one)

They slip out of the trailer. 

The park is just waking up around them, a few birds chirping, Mr. Robinson’s car starting up as he drives to work. One of their older neighbors must have fallen asleep with the television on – he can hear its static blaring all the way out here. 

It makes a shiver run up his spine. That almost familiar, eerie sound that resonates through a Demogorgon’s call.

But, the sun is shining and Steve’s safe and whole and warm at his side. So, he brushes it off, skipping over to the passenger side of the van and holds it open for Steve with a bow. 

Steve rolls his eyes, but there’s no more desperation bleeding into his expression. He’s like a caged bird, freed. He even settles his fingers daintily into Eddie’s flourished out hand, like he’s a maiden being helped into a carriage. 

Eddie closes the door once all of Steve’s limbs are in and accounted for, and damn near skips around the front of the van and flings himself into the driver’s seat. 

Dio blares out of his speakers when he turns the key until Steve reaches over to turn the dial down. Eddie tries to pout about it but the edges of his mouth keep turning up.

Steve’s slumped over in the passenger seat, arms crossed as he lolls his head sideways against the headrest to glare over at Eddie. “You’re really not going to tell me where we’re going?”

“It’s a surprise.” He bites his lip against a grin as Steve huffs and rolls his head the other direction to glare out his window. 

Eddie taps his fingers to the quiet beat of the song, blood sizzling with anticipation. 

It’s a short drive, made longer by the careful way he’s stopping and starting, taking each turn ten below his usual. There’s precious cargo barely on the mend in here, and he won’t risk damaging it any more.

He pulls into an empty parking space, easing his foot onto the break. There’s only one other car in the lot, but the open sign in the front window of the diner is lit up. It’s a lurid red, but Eddie’s willing to forgive it.

“This is the surprise?” Steve asks. He’s not glaring anymore, but he’s looking doubtfully out of the windshield, eyebrows raised as he eyes the diner’s front door like he’s never seen it before. “Breakfast?”

Eddie reaches over to pinch his side – softly, gently – until Steve laughs that honking pig laugh that Eddie loves so much and has so rarely heard.

“You don’t remember?” Eddie asks, teasing. “You said you’d kill for some bacon, and now you don’t even want to go in?”

There’s something fathomless in Steve’s eyes as he finally looks over at Eddie. It makes heat pool in Eddie’s gut, sinking into him until he’s aflame. He wants to scoop out Steve’s brain, figure out what’s ticking away in there. He wants to rip out one of Steve’s eyelashes and make a wish. 

“I remember,” Steve murmurs, looking up into Eddie’s eyes. 

He still looks sallow and tired, but there’s a rudy pink blooming on his cheeks by the time Eddie rounds the van again to open his door. He doesn’t hold out his hand this time, but Steve still settles his fingers onto Eddie’s shoulder and uses it to lever himself up and out.

Eddie rushes back around to lock the van. Steve doesn’t wait for him, but he holds the door open wide to let Eddie in. There’s a little bell dangling off the handle that jingles under Steve’s shaky grip. 

Eddie hurries in. 

The waitress moves at her usual sleepy pace, calling out a quiet, “mornin’”, as she heads over to their chosen booth with unnecessary menus. 

Her eyes widen when she catches sight of Steve’s state, but she doesn’t comment, just takes their orders and walks away without writing anything down.

They settle into sleepy silence. 

Eddie’s breath stutters in his lungs when he feels Steve’s foot hook atop his under the booth. He taps the toes of his boot three times against Steve’s tennis shoe and smiles across at him.

The cook must be raring to go because it takes less than ten minutes for their waitress to round the partition, arms laden with dishes piled high with food. 

Eddie’d followed Steve’s lead, so there’s two of everything. The pancakes are fluffy, squares of butter melting at their centers, sides of warmed maple syrup just waiting to be poured. The hashbrowns are greasy and crip on the outside, soft on the center.

The bacon’s bubbling with fat, edges crisp, steam still rising from its surface. Fresh off the griddle. Eddie skewers a piece on his fork. He thrusts it up toward the middle of the table, nudging Steve’s sneaker repeatedly.

“What?” 

“A toast!” Eddie calls, beaming across at Steve when he finally gets with the program and raises his own fork and its dangling bacon. Eddie clinks their forks together. Fat drops in fat drops down onto the previously clean table. “To fresh starts!”

Steve brings his fork down to his mouth and takes a huge bite, closing his eyes in apparent ecstasy. “To good bacon.”

“And a monster free life.”

“And staying right-side-up.”

“Here, here!” Eddie cries, ignoring the way the waitress is glaring at the mess and ruckus their making. 

Because Steve’s smiling down at his food, taking big, savoring bites. The edges of the morning have been sanded down. 

Besides, it’s only fair. All Eddie had wanted when he got out was to hug Uncle Wayne, and he had. Steve doesn’t have a Wayne, so if he wants bacon, he gets bacon.

Eddie’d make sure of it, for as long as Steve will let him.

Taglist: @deany-baby @estrellami-1 @altocumulustranslucidus @evillittleguy @carlprocastinator1000 @hallucinatedjosten @goodolefashionedloverboi @newtstabber @lunabyrd @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @manda-panda-monium @disrespectedgoatman @finntheehumaneater @ive-been-bamboozled @harringrieve @grimmfitzz @is-emily-real @dontstealmycake @angeldreamsoffanfic @a-couchpotato @5ammi90 @mac-attack19 @genderless-spoon @kas-eddie-munson @louismeds @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @pansexuality-activated @ellietheasexylibrarian @nebulainajar @mightbeasleep @neonfruitbowl @beth--b @silenzioperso @best-selling-show @v3lv3tf0x @bookworm0690 @paintsplatteredandimperfect @wonderland-girl143-blog @nerdsconquerall @sharingisntkaren @canmargesimpson @bananahoneycomb @rainwaterapothecary @practicallybegging

[3xen]

hihiii can I req a aamon x reader where's it's like arranged marriage au typa vibe?? both from different kingdoms n are very different but manage to yk bond n stuff 😖😖

asunder; aamon since the marriage ceremony, he's been unseen in his own home. you only feel its right—if you're the person to confront him.

n. i was hitting that poetry shit in this one omg. and please, good lord, i just wanna believe aamon is canonically british. please. i tried to capture ur req as best as i could!

c. arranged marriage au, unrequited love, ooc(?)

aamon deliberately meddled himself into his work and duties more often than he would have. he found consolation within his office—so he never left it. each day would be scheduled with meetings, inspections, and business matters. he immediately became weary of it. but he didn’t halt with his bearish intentions. 

it was the fourth week that you resided in his home. each week passed without his presence. it became most apparent that aamon was dodging your entire existence. 

a feeling of transgression and inhospitality poked at the back of his brain—a pot of poison stirring in his fleshy stomach. he was glued to his chair, stuck in a boundless hex. 

and you still hadn’t had a clue on what his intentions were. nonetheless, you tried to not make much out of it—marriage life was hectic and you decided his feelings couldn’t be misheard.

it was an overwhelming decision, even more, a forced decision by your kingdom. you never intended to settle for marriage so soon, given, prior to your engagement; you remained committed as a solitary princess. 

it was an unexplored aspect for the both of you. 

“aamon-“ you entered the unoccupied space, a cold breeze running through your feet. aamon’s usual lively office was completely empty. 

it took a few moments of reflection before you entered his office. hadn’t your curiosity got the best of you, you surely would have left as quick as you came. you flicked the lights on, bringing the interior of his room to light. 

it was plain—modernized to a suitable extent. wooden bookshelves outlined the outer walls of his office, besides them were file cabinets. he had one large desk in the center, file folders and miscellaneous papers sloppily scattered around the surface of the desk.

a large window faced from behind his desk, gaining a considerable source of light—allowing either the sun or moon to glimmer off the reflection of his desk. 

you anxiously approach the desk—your fingers running along the cluttered articles. as your eyes watched the tips of your fingers graze the tough surface, you caught a glimpse of an opened paged journal noted with ‘entry iii’. 

you moved any unwanted objects out of the way, your own consciousness growing more intrigued as moments passed by. you took the article in your hand, eyes darting to meet each word to match your mouth. 

entry iii

     her countenance deceives me, whereas her actions lighten me. if i were to write a report to her peers, i would think she was a bewitching maiden. her mere presence creates an altercation between herself and i. my perception of that woman is scarcely comparable to one of a few things. it has me bound at my will. i want to ultimately refuse her propositions of companionship. thenceforth, i will avoid that woman of great mystery. 

a visible frown was placed upon your lips. you had been good. throughout your time here, you have been nothing but good. what could aamon hold so much against you? what was his ulterior motive? 

a fit of rage threatened to surge from you—it can’t be. you shifted your eyes downward from the page and instead of falling to your feet—your pupils focused on a small fonted phrase. 

princess, i’m afraid i can no longer fool myself.

your breath hitched as the journal fell from your hands. “i see you’ve explored my study.” aamon cocked his head to the side—almost in disbelief. he entered the room with a heavy presence and it went completely unnoticed by you. 

“aamon.” your entire body felt numb as you stood like a deer in headlights, unable to move forward from your spot. 

aamon chuckled in amusement—he seemed the least offended with the intrusion. it didn’t take long until your body finally found its motion and you discreetly walked away from his desk. 

the prospect of it all felt impudent—to his letter of criticism, and lastly; his judgment of you. you received his disregard as something that would soon pass. or maybe, it was a plain misconception to you. 

“have you read my letter?” he inquired. 

“yes.” 

he nodded in acknowledgement as he moved to sit comfortably into the chair behind his desk. “it’s exactly what it says,” 

your eyebrows dug into your forehead. he spoke calmly, with a steady expression. “excuse me?” 

“the letter.” i blink in disbelief. 

“you intrigue me, princess.” the glint in his eyes meant more than what he said. his commendation of sanction captured you in his essence. 

once he played your game—maybe you would play his.

© 3xen

[humanpurposes]

I Have Always Been A Storm, Part 2

Read the full chapter on AO3 // Main Masterlist

Aemond Targaryen x Floris Baratheon

In the year 128AC, Floris Baratheon weds Aemond Taragryen, a daughter and a son both driven to duty, now bound to each other when the realm is on the brink of war. Floris is enamoured by the Prince, but love is something she can only hope will bloom once her vows have been said before the eyes of the Seven- AU where Aemond and Floris marry before the Dance of the Dragons.

Warnings: 18+, eventual smut, pregnancy, arranged marriage, canon divergence, angst, possibly quite a lot of angst, hurt/comfort

Two hundred guests stand before us in the royal sept.

Queen Alicent wished for us to be wed as soon as possible, in a less elaborate affair than the union of Aegon and Helana. This seemed like an agreeable decision in the eyes of the Small Council, one that would be more forgiving on the royal treasury. “All that money for the Princess to weep through the entire ceremony,” as Tyland Lannister had put it. 

There can be no room for mistakes on my part. I am an outsider in King’s Landing. I often find myself dressed in gowns of green, a paler shade than the Queen’s own gowns, but I am still a Baratheon. I have to be perfect. I will be perfect.

I’ve hardly seen my betrothed since I said my farewells to my family. The Queen says Aemond keeps himself busy. In the mornings he takes to the training yard to spar with Ser Criston Cole, then he rides Vhagar over the Kingswood and Blackwater Bay. Some mornings I watch them from my balcony. Otherwise he spends the rest of the day in the library, devoting himself to his studies, looking over papers of state given to him by the Hand, his grandfather. 

I know my chambers aren’t far from his, and yet I take my meals alone. I spend a lot of my time alone when I’m not joining the Queen in her morning prayers. She keeps telling me that things will be different once I am married.

My gown is gold and white with patterns of flowers in the skirt. The fabric flows in the breeze from the open windows. Summer will be nearing its end soon, but the sun has shone proudly over King’s Landing for the last few days. I try not to show the discomfort on my face, but I feel sweat beading under my dress, droplets running down my back. 

Aemond wears a jerkin of green, the three-headed dragon embroidered in gold across his chest, the same eyepatch over his head. My eyes trail down from his jaw to the opening of his collar, where his skin shifts as he swallows against the unbearable heat.

He has already replaced my maiden’s cloak with one in the colours of his own house. We place our hands together and the septon binds us together with a tie of black silk.

His eye meets mine and we say the words.

“I am yours, and you are mine, from this day until the end of my days.”

I am not sure I believe what I’m saying. I want to. I want him to mean it too.

Aemond steps into me, taking my chin in his fingertips to tilt my head upwards.

I’m aware of every sensation, the sweltering heat, the nervous feeling in my stomach, the fluttering in my chest, the shallowness of my breaths, all as if they’re happening to someone else and not me. It’s like I’m watching myself in a dream, existing in a memory.

I close my eyes.

He hesitates before he puts his lips to mine. He kisses me softly, slowly, and I want it to consume me. But then he parts from me and I feel empty. I feel incomplete.

Full chapter on AO3

Tags (commented to be added)

Series taglist: @tulips2715

General taglist: @randomdragonfires @theoneeyedprince @targaryenrealnessdarling @jamespotterismydaddy @tsujifreya @blackswxnn

[calmcoldevening]

Teasing

Bo Sinclair x reader [University AU]

maybe this is the part one

Tw: teasing, a little dirty talk, professor x student (he's your husband also)

You've been living a domestic life for quite a long time. After graduating from school about seven years ago, you were determined to be a sweet wife and diligent hostess, but on your last birthday something in your head clicked and you decided to get back to school. You went to university.

Overall, it was pretty simple. You already had certain skills in this field, besides, it was a very creative faculty (of your choice), so there were no difficulties in mastering it. And the young students were very friendly with you, the young girls immediately saw you as a 'mommy' and often turned to you for different advice, you even became very friendly. Everything was just perfect. Exactly up to the moment when the pairs began on such a subject as history. These classes were taught by none other than your husband, Bo Sinclair.

In general, this did not arouse anyone's suspicions. You went to university with your maiden name, and your age difference with Bo was almost ten years. No one would have thought of it. But the man obviously tensed up when he saw you in the lecture hall. Well, that was interesting.

It was quite early in the morning, the sun lazily penetrated into the lecture hall through the windows of the auditorium and shone unpleasantly into the eyes. It was a history class and the first couple, so the room wasn't as packed with students as it used to be closer to lunch. You lazily settled into your seat, resting your head on your hand and examining your own nails. The teacher was late. It was quite boring to sit in this cool place so early, but you were determined to play the role of a diligent student in the first year, and then how will it work out. Your body tingled a little from the feeling of other people's eyes. Seriously. Sometimes it felt like those puberty boys were about to burn a hole in your back.

Finally, the teacher entered the classroom. He closed the door with one sharp movement, which made it creak unpleasantly, causing many students to wake up, grumbling something displeased. The man apologized for being late, looking around at those present, and began to teach the lesson.

You didn't really understand the content of his words. The only thing that occupied your mind right now was the image of your husband in that charming formal suit. This formal attire was surprisingly becoming to him. Bo's hair was neatly combed back, and under a black jacket he wore a neatly pressed shirt with a dark tie. The clothes that you ironed for him with your own hands the day before. And oh my God, your sleepy fantasy couldn't help but think about those muscles under that dark cloth. Those toned arms, a small tummy and well-defined pectoral muscles. Without noticing it, you bit your lower lip.

You could feel Bo's inquisitive gaze sliding over you from time to time during class. Those divine blue eyes, full of a strange burning luster. They seemed almost bitterly cold in the light of the morning sun.

Finally, the lecture ended. All the students grabbed their bags and hurried out of the classroom as soon as possible, clearly wanting to get out of this 'building of knowledge' as soon as possible. You didn't immediately notice that the room was empty, and continued to stare at the table, which was leaning back in its seat. A low, hoarse voice pulled you out of your thoughts, giving you goosebumps.

"What's your intention doing that, love?"

His unintentionally rude speech with that bright deep accent made you instantly bite your lip in anticipation. You looked up at him, resting your head on your hand and grinning arrogantly.

"Doing what, sir?"

You noticed how his shoulders visibly stiffened from your treatment. You enjoyed teasing him so much.

"You know what are you doing, love. You're not even paying attention to my lecture."

You giggled, "How can I pay attention to the lecture if there's so handsome man in front of me, mm?"

Bo frowned. He came closer to your desk, leaning on it and hanging over you. The wood creaked uncomfortably under his sudden weight. The man's gaze burned through the top of your head.

"Can you repeat that again?"

"I can't pay attention to the lecture because I'm watching this sexy man," You said, looking up at him with teasing smile.

God, how could you be so sweet and innocent and so brave at the same time? The man's breathing faltered for a moment, and he swallowed nervously. It seemed to get a lot hotter in the room when you were brazenly staring at your professor's tense face like that. Her husband. His jaw visibly tightened, and small wreaths appeared on his forehead. Sinclair was clearly losing his patience.

He returned to his place as a professor at his desk. The man's gaze never left you. Finally, Bo patted his thigh, calling you to him in a gruff voice. You immediately perked up, forgetting about any fatigue. Teasing this man was fun, of course, but when it came to something more interesting, it was even better. You got up from your seat, deliberately walking slowly towards his desk. You were wearing a loose plaid shirt and jeans that he liked you so much. Bo couldn't look away.

You are quite settled in his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck. The man sighed, squeezing your waist with his hands and burying his nose in your hair. The smell of your body always calmed him down and gave him a sense of security. As long as he was rude to everyone, you should always give light to the soft part of his heart. You were his soft spot, his home.

"I know that right now I'm your professor and you're my student and it all looks so weird.. But I'm still your husband. And I see those little bastards staring at you. Damn, they're literally undressing you with their eyes!" Raising his voice, Bo muttered, his grip on your body tightened, "..and I'm watching too. I just can't help but watch. You're so beautiful and you're mine. Only mine. My beloved wife. You're distracting me from my studies. And sometimes I just want to spit on it all, grab your hand and go home .."

After being silent for a couple of minutes, the man finally moved back, leaning back in his chair. His hand gently touched your cheek.

"How am I supposed to teach those fucking kids if I can't stop looking at this wonderful woman? And damn it, you like it, don't you?"

The man chuckled. One of his hands tightened around your waist, while the other slowly rose higher, climbing under the fabric of your T-shirt and stroking your bare stomach. An involuntary sigh escaped from your chest from his rough hand.

"So perfect.. But she's so naughty. I just can't ignore it. Bad behavior should be punished, shouldn't it, my sweet student?"

[howlingday]

new vegas au) LT. Valkire was a simple girl, she liked explosives and she hated bullies. made it pretty easy for her to decide to join up with the NCR military of course now she had to sit in the desert trying to deal with the powder gangers. to make things worse there was no fucking support from the higher ups meaning she had to handle everything solo! That was until the knight rolled unto town. The dude was strange, only spoke in old English, wore metal armor that he'd polished till it was basically a mirror. had probably the only solid steel sword she'd ever seen, not reclaimed scrap metal someone had sharpened till it could stick someone, no, an actually forged sword! and while it was hard to understand what he was saying apparently he was going to help with the powder gangers? well if he wanted to pick off a few of the patrols for her that was fine, she's surprised he even had time to do that in between his charity work with the kids of Primm, he mainly just passed through from time to time handing out sasparilla and candy while helping the community as needed after he helped them liberate it a few days ago. it's a shame, she really liked the guy. why'd all the good ones have to be gay or crazy? (give us jaune singlehandedly taking out the powder gangers in their prison-turned-fortress and nora's reaction to it pls)

Previous

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Whassamatter, sweetheart?" One of them shouted between gunfire. "Did your mommy not pack you a lunch?"

If Nora cared about her mother, she might have taken that as an insult. Instead, she chose to focus her anger on the lack of explosives she had. Try as she'd like, the Powder Gangers had her outnumbered ten to one, outgunned with them still having ample rounds and her with no grenade cartridges, and outwitted since she was trapped in an office above some well-protected radroaches hiding under sturdy barriers. In short; she was fucked, and it wasn't going to get good anytime soon.

"Shit, shit, what do I got?" Nora scanned the office around her for something, anything that could be used as an explosive. The closest she could find was an empty pencil shaver and some old bottle caps. Nothing volatile in the slightest, save for her temper.

And it was her temper that got her into this mess, wasn't it? She didn't like standing around in the base, doing nothing, so they sent her off to clear out a Powder Ganger base and send word to the NCR that it was clear. Too bad the base had fired a flare and sent pretty much every Ganger in the desert to come for her. She'd managed to whittle them down, killing a bunch in the first shot, but there were still too many for her. If she was lucky, they'd kill her quick.

"Just you wait, sweetheart!" One of them called up. "We'll give you exactly what those uptight pricks at the NCR never would!" Judging by the laugh they gave, her spinal chills were justified.

"Hold there, worthy adversaries!" A new voice called, and judging by his tone, he was a loony, too. One of those Caesar's guys? "Pray tell, what kingdom doth thee hail from?"

"The fuck you wanna know for, freak?"

"Don't waste your breath! Just light him up!" Gunfire roared, soon followed by screams of agony.

Nora peered outside to find the loony, all dressed up in some kinda sheet metal tougher than anything those Caesar guys had on, slice one Ganger in half like a lunatic! But he was a lunatic with a chance, since the bullets kept bouncing off him. Anyone dumb enough to get close with a slugger either had it parried or sliced in half with them. Nora'd never seen such carnage before, not even from the Deathclaw attack that stampeded her home all those years ago.

The one her mother left her behind in.

"Hail, fair maiden!" Before she could be sucked into her trauma, a voice called to her. "Are you unharmed?"

"I'm fine!" Nora called back. "Thanks for saving my bacon!"

"Oh, good! You have rations!" The idiom flew over his tin-metal head. "I only have one other question before I enter!" His voice suddenly became less friendly. It was about as dangerous as when he started slicing the gangers like meat. "ARE YOU FRIEND, OR ARE YOU FOE?"

"Dude, you just saved my ass! I think that makes us friends!"

He was quiet for a moment, then he let out a belting laugh. He lifted his helmet from his head, giving a smile to her from beneath golden locks of sweaty hair. He swiped them away, free of sweat, and stepped closer to her.

"It has been some time since anyone had answered as a friend!"

[oflights]

wip snip 6.1

i'm finally going to start posting my first bloodweave fic on friday (🥲 i know, i just love posting on fridays)!!! lol i did want to keep it under postable wip length but...if you know me, you know my struggle with word count. this is long 🙃

this is a no tadpole AU (pre-tadpole?? maybe?) where gale, a very Important chosen of mystra, comes to stay at the szarr palace to conduct very Important magical research; cazador agrees to gain a powerful ally and mystra's favor. astarion is sent to ~entertain gale (cw for canon-typical sexual coercion, and for cazador in general) and it does not go even remotely like he expects it to. here's a snippet from their not very cute meetcute. enjoy!

Astarion’s not entirely sure who he hates most in that moment—Cazador, speaking about him like he’s not in the room, or Gale, eyeing him avidly, his gaze scraping across Astarion’s face in a way that would make him blush if he were capable of it. Or maybe himself, for reacting to Gale’s attention like a blushing maiden, even if he can’t look the part.

Of course, he can’t blush because he’s bloody starving, and that really answers the question of who he hates most: Cazador, the easiest answer there ever is. That doesn’t make things better when Gale gives another short bow and says, “It’s lovely to meet you, Astarion.”

He holds out his hand for Astarion to shake. Astarion stares down at it, feeling his lip curl in distaste, and would let it hang there if not for Cazador leaning into his space, a tight, quiet fury alight behind his eyes.

Astarion sighs and takes Gale’s hand. It’s warm, of course, with a firm but gentle grip. His palm is rather soft, no doubt evidence of pursuits more scholarly than martial to go with his figure. He shakes Astarion’s hand once, twice, then lets it go with another nod.

“Have a good evening,” Gale tells him, and then he heads off towards where Yousen is hovering anxiously near a platter full of different cheeses. “I do love a good cheese plate,” Gale can be heard telling Yousen, his voice about ten degrees warmer, and Astarion can’t help a snort as Yousen smiles tentatively up at him.

“You are a disgrace,” Cazador hisses right in his ear. “An absolute humiliation.”

Astarion winces, bites down on instinctive protests—if he could just feed, perhaps he’d be able to muster up some more social grace—but Cazador cuts off the very start of his faint apology.

“No. I will not hear it. I should send you straight to Godey.”

The ‘should’ stops Astarion up—it seems inevitable that he’ll be sent there anyway—and he blinks at Cazador, who shakes his head.

“You don’t deserve this, but he seems to have an—interest. Consider yourself lucky.”

Astarion’s skin crawls. He glances over to where Gale is still talking to Yousen, presumably about cheese—but also casting glances over at Astarion. He whips his gaze away as soon as Astarion catches it, terribly obvious, and Astarion clenches his fists. Lucky, indeed.

“You will go to him,” Cazador says, nothing but contempt in the clear command. “You will please him; you will let him use you as he wishes. He so very clearly wishes. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Astarion says, gritting his teeth. He feels disgusting, empty—devoid of blood, of sustenance, all that lies within him is this.

“I don’t believe you. Repeat what I said.”

Stomach roiling, eyes now planted on the rich red carpeting beneath his feet, Astarion repeats, “I will please him. I will—I’ll let him use me as he wishes.”

“Indeed you will,” Cazador spits out, and then he stalks off, leaving Astarion alone by the sideboard, shoulders hunched and gaze stuck low.

The wizard doesn’t approach him again for the rest of the reception, which is as short as predicted. He eats his fill of cheese and meats, apparently unconcerned that he’s the only one. He chats up Leon, brightening visibly when he gets him to admit to being a sorcerer, but spreads his attention evenly—to everyone except Astarion, that is.

For Astarion, he only has fleeting glances, a brief nod every time they lock eyes. Astarion watches him shamelessly, clutching his disgusting wine. He wonders if he’ll be able to taste the better-quality drink on Gale, and supposes he’ll have to find out soon.

Both sooner than Astarion would like and after much too long, Dufay announces that the hour nears to retire, since Gale of Waterdeep must be exhausted from his travels. Gale agrees readily enough and bids goodnight to everyone in the room as they drift off, back to the dormitory or, for some, out into the night as instructed, bringing victims back for a party that’s already ended, a feast only for one.

“Goodnight,” Gale tells Astarion on his way out. His gaze lingers, almost searching, and drifts only when Astarion gives him a better approximation of a smile and says, “Until we meet again, dear wizard.”

Gale speeds up his exit a bit after that; the back of his neck is slightly reddened.

[darlingpwease]

Luo Bingge: The way you look at me, the only memory is just us kissing in the moonlight~

Reader: WHAT THE FUCK WHO ARE YOU!

(I just wanted to respond to your genius au where Bingge finds us in the real world and we are basically the exact same copy of them)

<333 hehehe~ so accurate,,,

can't remember to forget you

I love very much, very much you

♡ pet names, unhealthy behaviour (non-consensual touching), forced relationship (not really relationship) if you squint, mention of violence + death (in past); bingge is my little pathetic woof woof who has done nothing wrong in his life, bingge sleeps with everyone who reminds him of you regardless of gender to match the settings

LUO BINGHE was at a loss.

"Character in a novel"? "Proud Immortal Demon Way?"

"Follow the instructions of the system"?

When he was moved to an incomprehensible room, something in between a peasant's hut and a townsman's house, LUO BINGHE could only look around through translucent floating jade tiles with words drawn on them, the meaning of which he could not really understand, even if he understood these words individually as well as their meaning, and already wanted to irritably sweep everything away this is aside — when gaze caught on a painfully familiar face.

He would have remembered these features even in death.

Instincts reacts much faster than mind, immediately reaching the body lying on the bed with a couple of steps — and putting his hands on the sides of their head, hanging with an incomprehensible white noise in ears, when all the blood in his body was boiling from just one sight, makes his throat dry up.

The system buzzes something in ear, but LUO BINGHE is unable to think or react when he sees a familiar face, serene and sleeping, but the same as before he was forced to survive, clinging to the remnants of strength and life only for the sake of one single thing, for the sake of one single person.

Your face.

Just as magnificent and breath-taking as many, many years ago — even when he himself was a disciple, your shidi, and looked up at you, really resembling a small animal that repeats after a wiser one — certainly not an 'animal'.

Rather, it was like he was turning from a beast into a Human Being, indulging in your restrained affection and supervision so that he would not have qi deviation or other problems, finally getting someone over the years who cares about him, sincerely pampering and letting him know that he is not came into this world for nothing.

Everything just snapped in an instant. Your life has been cut short just as a burning stick of incense is extinguished with a finger.

And he was not there at the most terrible moment of your life, although he swore that he would always be with you, would save and help.

How funny.

Plan to confess his love after he brings the first place to your feet like an obedient pet, only to return to your empty grave. You would never forgive him — never — but did it make sense if you now can't scold him or praise him? Did it make sense that the world was killing the people most dear to him over and over again? Does it make sense that even you left him after all?

Does it make sense that it wasn't even demons who killed you, but other cultivators?

You would tell him that it has. That this is a test. That his hatred wouldn't change anything. That revenge brings bliss to the heart, but poisons the soul. That his demonic blood doesn't make him a demon and who he is is the result of a choice. That a good and decent cultivator should not have a huge harem just to fill the void in his soul. That sex is not the only way to feel needed. That he doesn't need power to be loved. That he is loved simply because he is. That he doesn't need to imagine you every time he tries to find the same warmth in the soft tender bodies of rare beauties. That he does not need to look for the companies of beautiful young men and maidens just to find at least somewhere the same delight that he experienced even when you scolded him.

He just wanted to be a 'good boy' for you, — whom you can love, kiss, take with you, treat with treats, let him take care of you, — why did everything turn out this way?

His fingers are smooth, soft — the same as he had when he was still a disciple — and when they touch your cheek, your eyelashes tremble, as if echoing soft strokes, while he puts other hand on your other cheek with intoxicating delight, feeling the warm gentle air on his skin, — and trembling, sitting on the edge next to you, continuing to ignore the chirping which soon falls silent, as if realizing that LUO BINGHE is unable to react right now.

Everything inside him burns and melts like hot metal.

Is that you? Is it really you? Senior fellow disciple?

Does the senior fellow disciple still think this Binghe is handsome? Does the senior fellow disciple still love this Binghe? Will the senior fellow disciple be proud of how strong and powerful this Binghe has become, or will scold for what he did?

Perhaps he is now no better than an animal thrown out on the street, who has found a way to a cozy and warm house, but even when it's hard for him to breathe so as not to cry, he just continues to look at the facial features that bring him pain and pleasure at the same time, like an old wound that is being opened up to blood, while he don't mind. If he had a tail, he would wag it so much that he would wake you up, but you sleep so serenely, as if you don't notice his presence, — although it is, you couldn't notice his presence, — and LUO BINGHE needs all the willpower not to cling tightly to you and never let go of his embrace, crying about how painful it was for him without you and that you can no longer leave him, never, or he will follow you — no matter to hell or heaven, to another world or beyond life, you can no longer go where he cannot follow.

Breath. Exhale.

Breath.

Exhale.

He is no longer that intemperate and stupid shidi, who could only smile sweetly, baring his fangs to anyone who wanted to touch his, and could only try to physically take care of you and be pretty and obedient, thinking that this way you will not leave him and will always keep him close as a cute and good boytoy. LUO BINGHE — now — knows what it's like to be without you after you've given him a taste of this feeling of love and care. That true love must be won with passion and body; that it must be protected with claws and fangs; that the whole world is against anyone being able to love him.

That if he wants to be loved, then he should make you look only at him.

And he will make you look only at him.

Everything about you is the same — from the smell of your hair to the reaction, you are exactly the same. That's you, isn't it?

Love of his life.

It can only be you.

When your eyes open slightly, reacting to his touch and proximity, LUO BINGHE does not try to hide an intoxicated enthusiastic smile, even if there is nothing in your eyes but horror and misunderstanding.

“Hello, my love... Did I wake you up? I'm so sorry; I'll help you warm up and fall asleep~”

The character Luo Binghe from the novel 'Proud Immortal Demon Way' will be able to continue living in this world or return to his own world after achieving the main goal.

Do you accept the terms?

Yes.

“It's not like you can run away from me now, after all~”

[noah-moth-cursed-chaos]

Y'all want Arewennar content? Of course you want Arewennar content. Here's some Wenny content, plus a brief moment including the dragonborn for their au

It had been a long time coming, really.

If their parents knew they'd call the decision brash, childish.

It was quite possibly the most mature and thought out thing Arewennar had ever done.

And the death sentence they had been written became their saving grace, not a single person had questioned why they'd been packing.

They bit their tongue and played nice while they waited for their chance, had dinners with their 'future wife', went to training as usual, did everything their parents said without a word of dissent. They were on the ledge of salvation, they just needed a chance to climb the barricades and jump.

They had to.

Their parents had no regard for them, their 'fiance' wanted them as a pawn, they no longer believed in a war they had no other way to leave.

They knew the fate that waited if they didn't run.

A steady climb through the ranks of the Thalmor military, a name stained in blood, children they would not want who they could not save.

They sacrificed themself or everything they knew, those were the choices laid out.

They had been sacrificing themself for long enough.

Liarumferna had taken Arewennar's parents to some Thalmor party, Wen had hung back at training, hoping to be left behind.

It paid off. They came home to an empty house. They changed out of their armor, considered putting up their bow...

It was only glass. Strong and sure, but glass nonetheless. It reminded them of themself in a way, fragile, yet created to draw blood.

It would never draw blood for the Thalmor again, and neither would Wen.

Their helmet was probably sturdy enough...

It took shockingly little effort to leave the thing in pieces on the living room floor, and then they gathered the bag of essentials they'd prepared, and left.

Arewennar used to sneak out before they graduated basic training, spend summer nights finding trouble with friends, the usual dumb kid shit.

Now they left the house on an all too similar summer night, to find a new life.

The trek from Solitude all the way to the Windhelm docks was long, and the cloak they wore did less than they'd hoped to hide their face.

The Northern Maiden was a fine looking ship, and would take Arewennar well away from everything they were running from.

However when they approached the captain-

"If you're looking for passage to Solstheim, too bad. I'm not going back there anymore."

"What-then how am I meant to get there?" Arewennar was taken aback, so what? The only ship to Solstheim just... Wasn't going to Solstheim anymore?

"None of my concern, if I never see that rock again it'll still be too soon."

Arewennar paused, before, "What's your usual rate? I'll pay you double."

The man looked at them, and hesitated before, "Alright, money has to be made... My usual rate is 250, 500 septims and we're off." At this moment Arewennar was really wishing they had more than 900 septims to their name at the moment.

Fantastic.

Nonetheless they counted out and handed over the coin, and the captain shouted to his crew to prepare for departure.

Right before they left port Wen saw a women, a bosmer in some steel armor, running towards the docks, "Hey wait! You're going to Solstheim, right?" She shouted, almost tripping when she scrambled onboard.

The captain sighed, "Yes, passage is 250 septims."

"No 'sorry I almost got you killed' discount? Really?" ... What was she talking about?

"I've never seen you before, I haven't done a thing to you."

"But you did transport cultists here who wanted my head on a pike." She fixed the man with a steely glare, and he looked as if she'd just informed him of a ghost and not a couple old passengers.

"... I swear it wasn't intentional-I can't recall a thing about my last trip out, I almost wasn't willing to do it again because of that."

She just stared at him for a moment, he sort of shrunk into himself.

"... 150."

"Deal." And with an exchange of coin, the journey to a new life began.

Arewennar had never taken the time to just watch the ocean before.

It was beautiful.

And for once they couldn't wait to see what was in store for them next.

[ikeromantic]

Congrats on the Ikesen 1k event! Can i request Shingen + Secret + 👹

Ok so, this one hit me like a truck. Or a train xD My brain picked it up and ran with it. A sort of fairytale AU. So, here we go! Approx. 3000 words of Shingen, secrets, and oni.

Mai arrived at the village just before sunset. She was bone tired and dusty from travel. All she wanted at this point was a bath and a soft futon. Hopefully this place had an inn, or some kind people to rent her a room for the night. 

The street was strangely empty, too quiet even for the small collection of wood houses. There was no one out and about, so she tried knocking on a few doors. No one answered. She saw no lanterns lit and no smoke from cook fires. The only signs of life came from the castle set just above the village on a low rise. Strains of music drifted from the heights, which meant there must be someone there.

Lords were a tricky lot, she knew. Some would not deign to notice her presence, and their servants would let her sleep in the barn or a shed. Some would chase her off and threaten her. Others wanted payment for a room in something other than gold. But sometimes they were welcoming too. Asking for news from her travels and offering food and a place to stay in exchange for nothing but stories.

She trudged down the street to the castle gate. “Hello?” 

As with the rest of the town, there was no answer. Mai pushed the gate open. It was heavy and she had to put her whole body into it. The gate swung open with a rusty squeal, and a shout of pained surprise.

Mai stumbled back from the gate as an annoyed looking man moved into view. He was dressed in fine clothes, accented with red. His warm brown eyes were narrowed with anger, and he was holding his elbow. “Hi?”

“You know, you could show a little patience, ya damn boar woman! Shoving the door open on me instead of waiting for me.” He gave her a severe frown. “Anyway, what do you want?”

“Umm. Sorry about that. I thought no one was coming.” She cleared her throat. “Anyway, I need to find a place to rest tonight. It will be dark soon so . . .”

The man shook his head. “You can’t stay here. You should just keep walking until you’re well clear of the village.”

“Why is that?” Mai tilted her head. 

Another voice answered her, this one melodic and sorrowful. “Because this place is cursed.” A man stepped into view behind the first. He was opposite in every way. His skin was pale as porcelain, and his hair hung over his shoulder in a braid of shining dark silk. Pale eyes shone like the moon as his petal soft lips turned up in a melancholy smile. 

Mai almost didn’t notice the biwa in his hand, she was so busy staring at his beauty. 

“Ugh, you did it again, Yoshimoto. She’s about to start drooling.” The man with brown eyes named the beauty behind him with distaste. 

“I am not! I don’t drool!” She snapped. 

The beauty laughed. “Yukimura, stop being so rude. And let this lady in. I do not think she has time to clear the town before it gets dark so she will be no safer out there than in here.”

Yukimura stepped out of her way and motioned her inside. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.” He glared at Mai as if this was her fault. “I guess we should take her to see Lord Takeda. He’ll decide what’s best for her.”

Yoshimoto nodded. “Come along, lovely traveler. What is your name?”

“I’m Mai. And you are Yoshimoto?”

He chuckled. “Yes. And my rude companion is Yukimura.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, what happened here? Everyone is gone. It’s like a zombie apocalypse. Minus the zombies, I hope.” Mai smiled nervously.

It was Yukimura that answered. “Didn’t you hear what he said before or are you deaf as well as clumsy? The place is cursed. A mad oni rages here on new moon nights and devours maidens. So everybody that could, left.”

“It . . . devours maidens?”

“Yeah, but only pretty ones so you got nothing to worry about, probably.”Yukimura smirked. 

Mai felt the urgent and sudden desire to slap him, but she restrained herself. 

Yoshimoto tutted. “That is not true, Yuki. The demon devours any woman. Old or young, maiden or matron. Though if it did hunt only the beauties, I fear you would be at the top of the menu, dear Mai.”

She blushed. “Erm, ok. So . . . is it a new moon?”

Yoshimoto nodded gravely. “But perhaps Lord Takeda will have an idea of how to keep you safe. It would be a shame to lose you on the same night we met, hm?”

They brought her to a large audience chamber. It was once sumptuously appointed, but everything was now in disrepair. A layer of dust coated the decorations, the rugs were sun-faded and worn, and the light of the setting sun gleamed in through gaps between the boards of the walls.

Mai’s eyes were drawn to the lord of this place as soon as he entered. He too had the look of faded beauty. A wide-shouldered man with grey eyes like storm-clouds and lips that were made for wickedness. 

He smiled as he saw her, a flicker of life warming his expression. “What angel has graced us with her presence? Am I dreaming or has heaven sent me a blessing?”

“Umm, I’m Mai. And . . . umm . . . and . . .”

Yukimura snorted. “Seriously? First she drools all over Yoshimoto and now she gets all speechless in front of you?”

“I’m going to guess you didn’t get such a reaction,” Shingen chuckled. “Don’t be jealous, Yuki. I’m sure you will grow into your looks one day.”

“H-hey!” Yukimura turned bright red. “You’re supposed to be on my side!”

Mai couldn’t help but giggle. 

The sound drew Lord Takeda’s eyes back to her. There was a fevered light in them, a bright heat that illuminated them like the sun behind the clouds. “Your laugh is music to my ears. It has been too long since we had anything here to smile about. So tell me, beauty, why do you grace the halls of this cursed home?”

“Lord Takeda . . . I am traveling to Sakai and I stopped here for the night. I was hoping to find an inn or rent a room. But Yukimura and Yoshimoto said, well -” she paused, unsure what to say. An oni seemed like a fanciful thing. A fairytale. 

“Call me Shingen,” he said into the silence. “We will have you stay here tonight.”

“But the oni,” Yukimura began to protest.

Shingen shook his head. “It will be fine. I will personally ensure she is safe.”

Yoshimoto frowned but nodded. “As you say.”

He closed the distance between them and took her hand. “I will let nothing touch you, my angel. Come with me.”

“L-lord Takeda -”

“Shingen.”

“R-right. Shingen. Thank you for letting me stay. You don’t need to worry about me though. I can defend myself. So if you’ll just point the way?” Mai didn’t want any special favors from this honey-tongued guy. She wasn’t sure whether or not there was a literal demon to worry about, but she knew all the dangers inherent in being around hot guys with big swords. 

He smiled at her. It was the kind of smile that had promises behind it. “It’s no trouble, gorgeous. If anything, it is I that should thank you for giving me this moment to view your beauty and a chance to prove myself worthy of it.”

“Umm. Right. Ok.” Mai felt heat creep into her cheeks. Thankfully, it seemed they reached their destination. A room at the end of the hall. 

Shingen kissed the back of her hand. His lips were warm and soft and sent a shock of pleasure up her arm. “I must leave you now. It is almost dark. Just . . . close your door and lock it. Do not open it, no matter what you hear or see.”

He pushed her gently into the room and shut the door. 

“Wait! Hey!” Mai reached to open it back up but his voice stopped her.

“Lock the door, angel.” There was something in his tone, some deep sadness as if he were on the edge of tears. 

Mai did as he asked. Once the lock slid into place, she heard his footsteps recede. Alone in the room, she set down her pack and checked the knife strapped to her arm. She wasn’t sure what to do with herself. It seemed a bath was out of the question, along with a warm meal. 

The room had a futon rolled up in one corner. She unfurled it and shook the dust out. It looked thick and soft, at least. There was a small shelf too, with some porcelain dishes and a lantern. A wall scroll hung above the shelf, depicting the town below in better times. And there was one large window that looked out on an overgrown garden. 

Even in its desolation, the garden was beautiful. Vining flowers grew up over the benches and crawled along the walls toward the window. Bushes grew in unrestrained tangles, blossoms pushing through the greenery in profusion. It was like a verdant, floral jungle. Mai decided she would look at it in the morning. Assuming she could. She swallowed her fear and went to sit down on the futon.

Everything would be fine. Oni weren’t real, so she would just need to be alert for the real problem. Maybe bandits? Or some disease that affected women more than men? A yawn disrupted her train of thoughts. Anxiety and exhaustion fought over her, leaving her limbs feeling heavy and thick and her heart beating fast and thready. 

Mai laid down on the futon. It was soft and smelled like lavender. Exhaustion started to win out and her eyes fluttered closed. 

Only to fly open at the sound of some creature in pain, howling in the night. 

“Come on, Mai. It’s not a demon. Just, like, a big dog or something. A bear maybe. A hurt bear.” She closed her eyes forcefully but the sound came again. 

She sat up and drew the slim blade from its sheath. “Ok. Ok. It’s nothing to be scared of. Probably that Yuki guy trying to scare me.” Mai sat there in the dark, nerves jangling.

The howling faded and for a moment, there was blessed silence. Then came the sound of cracking wood. Like trees being uprooted. Walls being torn down. She felt the walls shiver with the force of whatever violence took place beyond her sight. 

Mai stood and went to the door. She pressed her ear to it, listening. There was shouting in the distance, but she couldn’t make out the words. An animalistic growl and another crash, this one close enough to shiver the walls of her room. 

Then, she heard it. A soft sound just under the cacophony. “Mai,” it whispered. “Mai. Come out, Mai.” 

The voice froze her where she stood. “Umm. Hello?”

“Open the door,” the whisper came again. 

She moved back from it, fear prickling her skin. “Nope! I’m good! You can go away now!” 

Something huge slammed into her door. The wood creaked and bulged in protest. The assault came again and again. With each attack, the door looked closer to collapse but somehow held. And then it didn’t. With a shower of splinters, the wood gave way. 

Mai leapt back and ran for the open window. She crawled out of it and dropped down into the overgrown garden. 

A huge, horrid face leered out at her from her room. Gleaming white fangs, swollen red lips, horns jutting from a tangle of brown hair. “Come back Mai! Where are you going? Don’t run! I only want to eat you!”

She ran. It was never a good idea to run in the dark with a bare blade in hand, but falling and stabbing herself seemed like a better fate than whatever that monster had in store. Mai dodged around a vine covered bench and crouched behind a giant camellia bush. 

The oni crashed after her, tearing plants from the ground and smashing whatever stood in his way. “Mai!” His voice echoed through the garden. 

He sounded close. She held her breath and tried to make herself small. With luck, he’d pass by. And if he did spot her, she had plenty of room to run. Mai’s hand tightened on the hilt of her dagger. Just go away, she thought. 

“I can’t just go away. You smell so delicious little Mai.” The oni’s hot breath ghosted against her cheek as he spoke. 

She turned her head to see that he’d somehow crept up behind her and now crouched there, so close that she could not run. Mai screamed.

The oni grabbed her. His smile was wide and hungry. “It’s been so long,” he crooned. “So long. I have had nothing to hunt. Nothing to eat!”

“That sounds like a ‘you’ problem!” Mai kicked at him, trying to wriggle loose. She was so frightened that she shook like a leaf despite her vocal defiance. 

He brought her close, so close that she could see the beads of spittle on his long, sharp teeth. “I wonder if you taste as sweet as you sound.” His jaw creaked as he opened it wider.

Mai flailed, panic consuming her. The knife she still gripped slashed the oni’s face and then lodged in his shoulder. 

The oni howled and let go. It grabbed the hilt of her dagger and jerked the blade free. Blood as black as night oozed from the wound. “What have you done,” he cried. Something flickered in his eyes, a familiar grey like the overcast sky. He fell to his knees, gasping. “You’ve killed me.”

Mai wanted to run, she really did. But something held her there, just out of the oni’s reach. She watched as he slumped from his knees to the ground. His breathing grew more and more labored until finally, it stopped. 

Though she knew it was a bad idea, Mai crept carefully forward. She reached out and poked the oni. It did not move, just lay there in the spreading pool of black blood. Even though it was a monster and would have eaten her, she felt bad for stabbing it. She’d never killed anything before, much less a demon. Her chest felt heavy with conflicting emotions.

There was elation at surviving, but guilt too. And a certain curiosity. Oni were real, and that by itself was a surprise. She tentatively grabbed the oni’s shoulder, and rolled him over so that she could see his face. In death, the expression he wore was peaceful. And there was a certain nobility to it, as if perhaps, he was not all bad. 

“Sorry about this,” she told him. “You didn’t leave me much choice but . . . still. I wish we’d both parted ways alive.” She pushed back a strand of his brown hair. Did oni have families? Friends? Would anyone miss him? Or was he just a monster? “I hope you’re at peace now, anyway.” She gently closed his eyes and then, impulsively, pressed a kiss to his cooling forehead. 

As her lips brushed his skin, something began to change. She felt the oni’s limbs tremble. Mai yelped, and leapt away. It wasn’t dead! Her knife lay in the pool of black blood beside the beast, and she cursed herself for not picking it up first. 

The oni’s skin began to shift and bubble, paling in the dim starlight from the red of demon-flesh to a mortal color. And its face melted in on itself, the tusks shrinking, the horns melding with its head. 

Mai watched in horror, afraid to move, afraid to even breathe. But her fear turned to awe as the oni became the lord. “Shingen?”

His eyes fluttered open. “Mai?” 

She wasn’t sure what to do. Run? Fight? “You were the oni?”

He nodded tiredly. “I was. But you’ve broken the curse. I can feel it. The absence of it.” Shingen favored her with a smile that could woo a thousand maidens. “You really are an angel. No. You’re a goddess. A divine beauty with a soul as pure as light.” 

“Heh. I don’t know about that. I stabbed you. Not exactly angel material.” She took a tentative step closer. “Are you . . . ok?”

Shingen sat up and rubbed his torn clothes. “The wound healed. It would have anyway. The oni has been stabbed and shot and burned and cut in two. I always wake at sunrise, whole. It has been my secret shame for years. I am the lord when the sun is up, and a beast on the nights of the new moon.”

“But it’s not sunrise.” 

He took her hand and kissed it. “No. It isn’t. Because you broke my curse. You saw something good in that evil creature. And you gave me your blessing.”

“All I did was kiss your forehead.” She blushed, feeling foolish and also a little proud. How many seamstresses could say they broke a curse?

Shingen looked at her with his silvered gaze, a slow smile spread across his lips. “Would you grant me another kiss, then? Just to be sure?”

“I-if you think -” That was as far as she got before his warm lips closed over hers, with a kiss as sweet as summer melons. A slow, blossoming kiss that took her breath away and made her heart race. 

When he broke the kiss, she took a moment to get herself under control. “Whoa. I - I think you’re cured now.”

Shingen’s heated gaze held her shy one. “Are you sure, my goddess? Perhaps you should stay and treat me with your blessings for another month. Just until the next new moon passes. Just in case.” His thumb stroked her knuckles, a lovers caress. “I may need your medicine every day to keep me safe.”

“I - I think you’re exaggerating.” She knew he was. Probably. But there was no part of her that protested the idea of kissing this man every day for the next month. Maybe more than once a day. Maybe more than kissing. Mai cleared her throat. “I can see staying for awhile. Just to be certain. But - but that doesn’t mean you can just go kissing me whenever you want. I like to get to know a guy first!”

“Then let’s spend this month getting to know each other very well.” His reply was almost a purr. 

Mai wondered if the oni was really the more dangerous version of Shingen. Because this one promised to eat her up too, with those stormy grey eyes and that sensual mouth. But the way she was feeling, she wasn’t sure she would mind it much.

[jadedbutler]

capri arranged marriage au WIP - idk if i'll pursue this but it's like a little rough chapter 1, as a treat

“A political marriage ?!” Damen nearly drops his cup onto the tiled floors of the palace halls as he keeps pace with Nikandros on a rather alarming beeline towards the councilroom. Several attendants trail in their wake. “And no one thought to run this by me?”

“Apparently not,” Nikandros’ voice is clipped, lips pressed in a grim line, his dark eyes narrowed and adamantly refusing to meet Damen’s frantic gaze. Ordinarily, Damen would attribute his friend’s harassed countenance to the casket of mead they had bested the night prior.

“They’ve already brought your… partner in. They’re really pushing to get the whole thing approved as soon as possible.”

“I- what? Who’s ‘they’?” Kastor, obviously, of course. Damen keeps moving. “Can he stop sabotaging my romantic life for thirty seconds,” he hisses to himself, and then to NIk: “And what makes him think I’d consent to whatever hapless maiden they’ve sent my way, anyways?”

They turn a corner in perfect unison, destination nigh. Nikandros stays silent for a moment too long, hesitating before the twin oak doors to the councilroom. “Would that I could hold you to that,” he mutters and, before Damen can ask what the hell that’s supposed to mean, shoves the doors open with outstretched palms.

Damen immediately understands what the hell that was supposed to mean. 

The councilroom is empty, save for the young man sitting next to the war table, chin propped against his relaxed wrist, the very portrait of boredom. Fair skin only exposed on his face, while the rest of his body is laced and bound by dark fabric, up to the elegant curve his neck, his wrists; even his hands don black leather gloves.

The tilt of his head sweeps blonde hair over his eyes. Upon Damen’s entrance, his blue gaze drops down and lifts back up in deliberate appraisal, and seems to linger on the circlet set upon Damen’s head. 

“My betrothed, I take it,” he drawls, not bothering to rise in greeting. There’s a subtle accent to his voice, speaking with the unnaturally proper cadence of someone who learned a language through texts and tutors instead of casual conversation. “I must say, I wasn’t expecting to be sold off to the Akielon ideal of a soldier, though I suppose there are worse things in life.”

Now behind Damen, Nikandros makes a muffled groaning sound. Damen ignores him.

“Sorry, I was only just informed I’d be be gaining a wife myself. Didn’t have a chance to eat breakfast,” he lifts his cup of wine mock-apologetically. “Mind if I eat while we wait for my dear brother to return for negotiations?”

The man makes a bored, sweeping gesture towards the war table. As though he’s the lord here, and Damen is but a faintly annoying advisor. 

Damen takes a seat perpendicular to the man, who doesn't’ so much as stir at Damen’s sudden proximity. His stillness, in a way, is more telling than any nervous tic that could’ve betrayed him. Damen hides an involuntarily smile by putting his cup to his lips and taking an ill-advised sip of wine.

“This is the prince of Vere,” Nikandros announces in a strained voice, in absence of any other introductions. Damen can feel him staring directly through the back of his head and into his soul.

Damen squints. “Wasn’t Auguste supposed to be…” he casts his own appraising glance at slender limbs and delicate features. “...overseas?” He vaguely remembered the adonic champion conquering some distant land. 

This earns him a cool blue stare. “My brother is indisposed at the moment, yes.” 

Damen contemplates this. This ice blonde creature doesn’t seem willingly here, the Verian court specifically making this play while the crown prince is away. His own brother has done very little to prepare him for the guest, although Damen instinctively wants to attribute that to negligence rather than malice.

He turns to a nearby attendant. “Get our guest some comfortable chambers. I’m sure he’s had a weary travel. We’ll continue this conversation once, umm…” He realizes he hadn’t gotten a name.

“Laurent,” the man says, sarcasm rolling off his tongue. “If it please my lord.”

It might. “And I am Prince Damianos. Though you already knew that.”  

[jdtrashman]

Countdown To Dawntrail Week 3: Yotsuyu

Week 3 of @voidsentprinces' countdown to dawntrail series. About damn time I got around to Beloch

---

The legend lives on, from the Chippewa on down

Of the big lake they called Gitche Gumee.

The lake, it is said, never gives up her dead

When the skies of November turn gloomy.

Beloch Bluesail stood up and back from the corpse of his father, blood dripping from his still-clenched fist. For a while there was no sound but the creak of the wood as the seas wrapped against the walls of the great barque they rode aboard. The Maritime Maiden. The only home Beloch had ever known for 19 years.

The pirates had found him as a baby off the coast of Doma, the lone survivor of a shipwreck. The au ra's small, scaly blue body had been wrapped in a blue sail - hence the name - as a final, desperate act by his birth father to keep his son warm. Beloch was raised by the captain of the crew as his only son, and for 19 years, things were good. Or at least he thought they were.

The truth was, in the past year, there had been signs that the captain had been hiding things from him. More money had been coming in, whose source was unknown. Then, earlier tonight, Beloch had come to bid his father goodnight and heard...strange sounds coming from his quarters. The door was cracked open, from which the sound of strangled sobs and heavy breathing could be heard. Against all better judgement, Beloch inched closer to the door and peered inside.

The next thing he knew, he was standing over his father, dead. He slowly turned to the girl. No older than he was, clothes torn, body curled up and shaking with sobs, a single terrified eye gazing at him through long black hair. Twelve only knew what he looked like to her.

Beloch's mind began to race. How long had this sort of thing been happening? He slowly walked over to his fathe-to the captain's desk, and began rifling through the drawers. What he found chilled him to the bone. A while, turns out. A long, long while. For the past year and a half, this ship had taken up the business of smuggling people. With the captain clearly getting to enjoy some of the goods himself. This latest...shipment, was from a bunch of raiders who kidnapped half a village's worth of people. Nothing in the papers spoke of anyone else being bought, just this one. Which made things simpler.

Beloch made his way back over to the young woman. Gently, slowly, he crouched down on one knee and held out the hand that wasn't covered in blood. "Come with me," he said. "we need to get you off this ship."

With a load of iron ore, twenty-six thousand tons more

Than the Edmund Fitzgerald weighed empty,

That good ship and crew was a bone to be chewed,

When the gales of November came early

13 years later, Beloch found himself back in Doma. Last time he was here was the day before he burnt his life to the bottom of the sea. Now he was here to help set it free from Garlean occupation. Not quite what he had signed up for when he accepted Minfillia's job offer 2 years ago, but whatever.

"There she is," growled Gosetsu. Beloch peeked over Allie and Rhea to get a look at the "Witch of Doma". And when he saw her face, no longer twisted in fear, but now stretched into a contemptuous sneer as Garlean soldiers at her flank bullied the helpless villagers, his heart sank into his knotted-up stomach. His head felt light and woozy, and he almost fell over from the shock.

"Beloch?" asked Allie, placing a hand on his arm. "Yo, babe, you okay?" Rhea perked up at Allie's concern and joined her in checking on him. It was here that he finally noticed how hard he had been breathing.

"I-I uh, I just," he sputtered, trying to stay calm and quiet. Now everyone was looking at him. He never liked sharing his past, so burdened with shame he had been for the past decade. But Musosai's wisdom rang in his head: it was time to tell them. If not now, then when? "I...I know her."

The ship was the pride of the American side

Coming back from some mill in Wisconsin

As the big freighters go, it was bigger than most

With a crew and a captain well seasoned

Concluding some terms, with a couple of steel firms

When they left, fully loaded, for Cleveland

Then later that night, when the ship's bell rang out

Could it be the north wind they'd been feelin'?

Later that night, Beloch did indeed tell them everything around the fire. Ophianne didn't look surprised, but she was clearly relieved at him finally getting this off his back. Q'ihnn remained stoic, unreadable, but relaxed. Maybe that was compassion, maybe not. It was hard to tell with him. Mitnu tried to remain stoic, but it was clear that she wasn't expecting it. The twins looked horrified, and Lyse looked pissed. Neither emotion seemed directed at him, though, which was a good sign.

Allie and Rhea, meanwhile, stayed close to him, even as he curled in on himself when the story reached its bloody end. The look in Allie's eyes...he had never seen her make that face before. It was like the girl she used to be had come out and put the beast away for just a moment. If this wasn't one of the most uncomfortable nights of his entire life, he'd commit the face to memory. And Rhea, his Starshine, just held his hand and kept her gaze firmly on him as he talked. He definitely did not deserve even one of these girls, so what'd a lunkhead like him do to get two at once?

"So you saved her?" Lyse asked with an edge to her voice. Understandable, given what Yotsuyu had turned into.

"Yes." he made no excuses. He was the reason these people were suffering, no covering that up.

Lyse crossed her arms and breathed outward, hard. "Good."

"Good?"

"Good. You saved a girl being brutalized, even though it cost you everything."

"You did the right thing, Beloch," Rhea chimed in softly.

"Yeah," Allie added. "what she did with her life ain't your bill to foot."

Beloch wanted to believe them. But something in his mind held onto the responsibility.

No, it had to be him that ended this.

Well the wind in the wires made a tattle-tale sound

When the wave broke over the railing

And every man knew, as the captain did too

T'was the witch of November come stealin'

The plan was to assassinate Zenos and Yotsuyu both in one fell swoop. It would be done quickly, cleanly, under cover of night.

And according to Q'ihnn, it would be done without him.

"I get it, I do," Q'ihnn said with arms crossed. "But you're too close to this, too close to her. You and her meeting won't go well, and we're only going to get one shot at this."

"Golden boy, do not fuck me on this, I swear," Beloch growled down at the miqote.

"I'm sorry, Beloch, but you know I'm right on this." With that, Q'ihnn left to join up with Yugiri and Allie.

There was no way that he was convinced that that was going to keep him away, was there? He didn't even lock the door. Honestly, Beloch was disappointed more than anything else.

He waited until they were far enough ahead that they wouldn't notice a trail, and he found a hiding spot out of their sight.

And he waited.

The dawn came late and the breakfast had to wait

When the gales of November came slashin'

When afternoon came, it was freezin' with rain

In the face of a hurricane westwind

By the time Beloch got there, the fighting was already well underway. Allie and Q'ihnn had Zenos handled - well, better handled than they did back in Ala Mhigo - while past them laid...her.

"Where is my brute?!" she demanded. "Honestly, of all the times."

"Yotsuyu." she stopped, and looked to her right, and found Beloch standing there. It took a moment, but recognition finally dawned on her, summoning a look in her eyes that lay somewhere between shock and rage.

"You..."

It began to rain.

When suppertime came, the old cook came on deck, sayin'

"Fellas, it's too rough to feed ya."

At seven PM, a main hatchway caved in,

He said, "Fellas, it's been good to know ya."

"What are ya doin, Yotsuyu?" he asked. The rain picked up speed, great sheets of water blowing across the land. The clangs and booms of Allie and Q'ihnn's battle with the prince battled for dominance against the whoosh of the winds.

"What am I doing?!" she asked, growing angrier. "How dare you! How dare you ask me that!!!" from her kimono, she pulled a revolver and pointed it at him. Sadly, he drew his sword. "I am learning from the lessons you taught me! The lesson I learned the night a man tore my abuser off of me and beat him to death with his bare hands. The lesson I learned as that man proceeded to slaughter an entire ship's crew. The lesson I learned, watching that ship burn and sink from my dingy bound back for Doma."

"...alright, kid," he muttered, readying his blade. "What did I teach you that led to all this?"

"That the world only makes sense, when you FORCE IT TO!!!"

She fired.

The captain wired in, he had water comin' in

And the good ship and crew was in peril

His sword, and a bullet. A move Musosai taught him. A move he had pulled off a thousand times, requiring total focus and center of self. His focused eyes caught the bullet, his senses slowing time for accuracy, and he swung.

And the bullet shattered his blade, and struck into his chest.

And later that night, when his lights went outta sight

Came The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald!

His consciousness drifted in and out after that, only the loudest noises making it through the haze. He faintly remembered Allie screaming as he fell, the feeling of his body being moved, the sound of Yugiri screaming for a table to be cleared. After that, all went quiet.

Does anyone know where the love of god goes

When the waves turn the minutes to hours?

The searchers all say they'd have made whitefish bay

If they'd put fifteen more miles behind her.

Allie and Rhea stayed by Beloch's side for the week that followed, as he drifted in and out of consciousness. Occasionally he would wake up, but not look at them. Judging by his eyes whenever they opened, it was out of shame.

Rhea gently held Allie by the shoulders as she watched their lover sleep. "He'll be alright, darling," she said softly. "C'mon, you need to sleep."

"Not until he wakes up for good," she said. She took one of Rhea's hands in hers. Off to the side, Ophianne sat and quietly read. Somehow more certain than either of them that he would wake up any minute. "At least this time I'll be here to greet him when he wakes up."

They might have split up, or they might have capsized

They may have broke deep and took water

And all that remains, is the faces and names

Of the wives and the sons and the daughters

For a moment, Beloch is back in that horrible night, watching his life burn from a dingy, the girl he burnt it all for sailing away in her own boat, growing harder to see with each passing moment.

He looked down at his hands. Bathed in firelight, the blood practically glimmered. Or perhaps that was simply the tears?

The young Beloch's face fell into his bloody hands and sobbed loudly. But no one was there.

Lake Huron rolls, Superior sings

In the rooms of her ice-water mansion

Ole Michigan steams like a young man's dreams

The islands and bays are for sportsmen

And farther below Lake Ontario

Takes in what Lake Erie can send her

And the iron boats go, as the mariners all know

With the gales of November remembered

Beloch awoke at last. Everything hurt, but nowhere more than his heart. Whether it was because of the bullet wound, or having to admit that Q'ihnn was absolutely correct in his assessment.

He looked around, saw Allie, Rhea, and Ophianne, all asleep. That was what he had expected. What he didn't expect was all the others, and even a few Namai villagers, all sleeping as well. It was late at night, and no one, clearly, had expected him to awaken until morning. Yet they were all there anyway.

Beloch gazed up at the ceiling. That night, he had considered going with Yotsuyu. Make sure she got to shore safely. He had let her go alone, concluding that she didn't want to be around him. Maybe if he had insisted, things would've turned out differently. If he had just let go of his stubborn pride for one minute, these people wouldn't have suffered. Maybe.

He was too weak still to wake them, and Allie in particular looked like she was overdue for sleep. So, he just stared at his two favorite girls. kept his eyes firmly on them, to keep himself going. He needed to keep going.

He needed to settle things with Yotsuyu.

In a musty old hall, in Detroit they prayed

In the maritime sailor's cathedral

The church bell chimed, til it rang twenty-nine times

For each man on the Edmund Fitzgerald

The legend lives on, from the Chippewa on down,

Of the big lake they called Gitche Gumee

Superior they said, never gives up her dead

When the gales of November come early...

[tonguetiedraven]

Bonrin Au where Rin is a cat-shifter that follows Ryuuji around bc he's head over heels in love with Ryuuji?

I actually have Ryuuji return Rin's scenting/cheek rubs in a lot of my fics, and works with a lot of Rin's quirky behavior, returning it where he can and adjusting to accept it when he can't (like he can't loop his tail around Rin's, but he can pet Rin's tail when it loops around him.) :) they're fun little quirks that I think he'd pick up because he knows it feels like love to Rin.

But, with @marble-wolf's help, I have a cat sidhe Rin fic to fill these both :D

And a snippet:

Ryuuji slid the door to his small temple open and stepped out, tilting his head towards the sky and enjoying the warmth on his face. He could hear a tatarimokke calling from the trees and spared the bird feeder a glance, confirming there was still enough food there for the day. 

The bowls by the monk hall were empty though, which meant there was likely to be a few thirsty and grumpy demons wandering around in search of breakfast. 

It was a little strange to think of this as breakfast since he’d already been up for hours at this point, but he’d only met a few demons that got up before noon. Even his fellow temple member didn’t want to get up before noon. Though Shima could hardly be described as devout.

He wasn’t even sure where his friend was currently. Probably sleeping under a tree or trying to entice one of the shrine maidens next door out on a date. Ryuuji was going to have to spend his evening removing another curse if that was the case.

Regardless, Ryuuji made his way across the yard, greeting the demons that stirred around him, whistling a greeting to the tatarimokke and aosagibi. He gave the hell hound and kludde a scratch behind their ears, and dodged the shougorou’s swinging mallet tail and pat it on its gong back, sending a loud noise through the temple grounds that woke anything else up. 

Joukahi-ji was quite possibly the strangest temple around here, but it had been and was Ryuuji’s home, and he loved it. Cursed or not. It had always been the roles of the Suguro’s to watch over the old buildings, and thanks to the kirin blood in his family, all the demons that wandered onto the land.

His grandfather had insisted they get rid of the creatures, but Tatsuma had snuck them in, and by the time Ryuuji had come around, there had been more demons than people. A trend that had continued until it was just his family and Shima. (Shima who had more or less wandered in and simply not left.)

The demons tended to be friendlier, so Ryuuji had no real complaints. They did eat a lot though. 

Ryuuji went into the dining hall that was mostly empty (Ukobach was chattering away in the kitchen and didn’t seem to notice Ryuuji come in.) He snagged the cat food and dog food and brought it back out, filling up the bowls and wondering if a trough would be a better option as he was greeted with a chorus of excited noises as they dove into the meal. 

Konekomaru ignored it and jumped to his shoulder with an excited “Bon!” 

Ryuuji reached up to scratch his chin. “Hey, Neko. What’s—”

There were two new cats. Ryuuji would bet money on it. (If he had any.) A white one with a thick and beautiful coat and the most vibrant of blue eyes, and a rustic brown one with soft teal eyes and a few black spots on his handsome face.

The tiny horns had Ryuuji suspecting cat sidhe’s. Young ones judging by the single tails.  At least they weren’t ancient as Kuro and his millenia old self.

“Hello,” Ryuuji called softly, not wanting to frighten them, but wanting to know if they were here for a meal, aggressive, or just curious. “I don’t think I’ve met either of you. I’m Ryuuji Suguro, and this is Joukahi-ji.” 

The brown cat shuffled back a step, ears folding and the white cat's tail lifted in a hook as he stepped curiously closer.

"Hi! I'm Rin. And that's Yukio." Rin the cat sidhe introduced with a flick of his tail. 

The place had radiated a peaceful, welcoming aura and he was already happy they had stopped. (Ryuuji, huh? Fitting.) The many demons had just watched them carefully and the guardian of the place wasn't looking at them with ill-intent. Actually his eyes were gentle and the demons were flocking to him, hanging off his arms and nipping at his legs affectionately.  

Ryuuji crouched down, hardening his shoulder with some scales as Konekomaru dug his claws in to keep his grip, and offered his hand to the new cat sidhes. 

“Welcome to Joukahi-ji. You’re free to eat and drink and explore. Just don’t go in to the temple. It’s blessed and will probably hurt your paws.”

The cat sidhes didn’t look sick, so he wouldn’t have to worry about them spreading anything, and aggressive cat sidhes didn’t tend to be this… tiny. Or maybe Kuro was the only one that went enormous when he was angry. He’d warn his mother about the new demons anyway. 

Rin bumped his brother encouragingly. "We can stay! Come on Yukio, don't be shy." 

Rin trotted the couple steps closer to the guardian of the temple and sniffed at his fingers. Ryuuji smelled like thunderstorms and the burning wood that temples liked to use and something spicy and a hint of something like the purest lake waters. 

Rin decided that was alright and set his head against Ryuuji's palm, scraping his horns gently against the skin and rubbing his cheeks against him.  

Ryuuji felt a small thrill at the gentle scenting and acceptance, just like he always did. Humans avoided him like the damn plague but he could win the trust of something as dangerous and wild as a demon, and that was something. (And sure, it didn’t hurt that his demon blood was a kirin and their scent was like rolling out a welcome mat to demons.)

“Rin,” the other cat called. “Be careful!”

“Yeah,” Ryuuji said, meeting Rin’s blue eyes (he’d never met a blue-eyed cat demon) “You’re welcome to stay as long as you want. Just let me know if there are any more of you, and don’t attack the other demons that live here. If they’ve got my scent, they stay here.” He scratched Rin under his chin. “The guy with pink hair also lives here. And my ma, but she smells like me.” 

Shima probably smelled a little like him, but he mostly smelled like death. (And that wasn’t actually his fault. Yamantaka just put off a hell of a stench.)

Rin looked back at Yukio. "He's nice !" 

(It wouldn't be the first time they were attacked by cruel demons or people but Rin wasn't getting anything bad from Ryuuji.) 

"I won't attack anybody." Rin batted at Ryuuji's fingers playfully and looked up at the other cat demon on Ryuuji's shoulder. 

"Hello," Rin greeted.  

Konekomaru’s ears flicked back momentarily. “Hi,” he returned. Then he nudged at Ryuuji’s cheek. “Bon, he smells kinda… weird.” 

Ryuuji straightened back up and gave Konekomaru’s cheek a scratch. He couldn’t smell anything weird, but Konekomaru also smelled like smoke so it was hard to smell anything past that. 

“There’s another cat sidhe,” Ryuuji said, deciding not to touch the smells weird thing right now. “Kuro. He’s…” Ryuuji had no idea where the cat sidhe was. Probably napping with Kuro as watch. Lazy bastard was always bribing the cat sidhe into watching for Ryuuji or Torako. 

“He’s probably somewhere. The forest and the inn mark the edges of our area. You can talk to me about any questions.” 

"Okay. Thank you!" Rin chirped and again looked back at his brother. "Yukio is shy."  

Rin sniffed at the monk's robes and set a paw on his knee to lift up to nose at the other cat demon. (Rin hadn't ever seen one like that before. Actually… he didn't know what a lot of these demons were.)  

Konekomaru leaned down a little nervously. Ryuuji didn’t comment on the flicker of orange fire that rolled down the kasha’s back. 

He didn’t think there was a reason to be worried about them. Yukio was slowly inching closer, seeming to take some courage from Rin and the fact that nothing violent had happened yet. 

Ryuuji gave the cats another moment to sniff each other out and stepped back just in time to hear a shriek from Izumo.

So that was where Shima had gone.

Sighing a bit, Ryuuji turned to see exactly why the kudagitsune was shrieking. Izumo tended to do it a lot, for both dire and nonsensical things.

She was too tiny to spot across the yard, so he moved towards the sound. It was coming from the south end of the temple, near the border. Was she in the forest? Had she gone wandering with Shiemi? 

He ran towards the sound, trying not to sigh audibly as he did, robes rustling around his feet and making Konekomaru cling more tightly to his shoulder before abandoning ship and jumping to the ground to run beside him. The spectacle shaped red markings around his eyes ignited as he ran, and that made Ryuuji pay a bit more attention to the shriek. 

Was there something actually out there? 

Yukio watched the tall monk run off and promptly moved to Rin’s side. 

“Careful,” he hissed. “We don’t know anything about this place. Isn’t it kind of weird that there are so many demons here?”

"Isn't it a good sign?" Rin asked in return. "Bunch of demons might mean it's safe?" 

Rin wanted to follow so he did at a slower pace, curiosity too strong to ignore. 

"It seems okay to me." Rin told his worried brother.  

Yukio huffed. “You’re just saying that because he fed you.” (He didn’t point out that he’d eaten as well.)

Ryuuji kept running to the border and saw Shiemi standing a few meters away from her tree, nervously waving her flower-laden arms. 

“What is it?” he asked, jogging up to her and still not seeing Izumo’s shrieking self. 

“Ghouls!” She gasped, spilling a few leaves as she bounced nervously from foot to foot. “She’s too far out. My roots can’t reach her.”

“I’ll get her. Don’t strain yourself.” If they were ghouls, Shiemi could get root rot from them and that was a headache he did not want to deal with. 

At least he had Konekomaru. Ryuuji could exorcise the demons and Konekomaru could burn what was left of the bodies. 

The stench hit him before he saw the ghoul — a full naberius — lumbering around the trees beyond their border. Izumo had gotten herself halfway up the tree before pausing to hiss and swipe her paw at the demon. She wasn’t any bigger than a squirrel, and she was posturing like she was one of the hell hounds and actually stood a shot of scaring it off. 

“Izumo!” He called, drawing her attention and the stitched ghoul’s. “Climb up the damn tree!” He followed his order up with the death verse, quoting the last verse of John and feeling the spark of power leave him and his eyes turn a bit golden as it did. 

The naberius lunged for the tree, missed Izumo, and groaned as it was driven from the stitched body and destroyed. Konekomaru dove for the remainder of the corpse, cremating it and preventing it from ever being possessed again. 

“I had it!” Izumo shrieked even as she extended her paw for Ryuuji.  “I could have taken it.” 

Ryuuji lifted her off the tree and took her back to Shiemi. The nymph could handle her. 

Rin had arrived to peek between the trees and watched Ryuuji take down the ghoul with wide eyes before watching Ryuuji's interactions with the other demons. 

They were interesting. The demons… weren't familiars and Ryuuji seemed to have a good relationship with them. 

"You see that, Yukio?!"  

Yukio had seen that and didn’t know what to make of it. At least Suguro seemed strong. He went up to Rin’s side and bumped his head against Rin’s. He smelled a little like Suguro. Not a lot, but it was there.

“Why were you past the border?” Ryuuji asked as he set Izumo in Shiemi’s green arms. 

Izumo hid herself in Shiemi’s sleeve and peeked out with a huff. “That ghoul. I wasn’t going to let it mess up Shiemi’s roots.” She rolled her eyes like it was obvious. Ryuuji supposed it was. 

He turned back with his own huff (more amused than frustrated) and saw the new cat sidhes staring at him. 

Rin's tail lifted at being noticed and trotted over. The sun was dancing in the trees' swaying leaves and made Ryuuji look as if he were glowing and he looked fierce and handsome. 

(Luckily, cats can't blush.) 

"That was cool!" Rin cheered, bounding over a little faster.  

Most of the demons here saw him exorcise a rot demon every other day. It was nothing to them. Apparently it was something to Rin though. He almost never got complimented for it, and he found himself blushing a little at the compliment. 

He put on a smile and crossed his arms. “Just a naberius,” he said with a shrug. “Not a big deal.” (And then it occurred to him he sounded like Izumo and the smile fell even as the blush darkened.)

Rin sat down and looked up at Ryuuji. (He was so tall.) 

"Big demon, big deal!" Rin decided and as Konekomaru crept back over Rin crouched and jumped at him.  

Konekomaru, apparently caught off guard, yowled and bolted for Ryuuji, entirely on fire and making him yelp as he got a face full of gray cat. He stumbled back a step, yelping and colliding with Shiemi who steadied him while Izumo laughed.

Ryuuji managed to peel his oldest friend off his face and tried to spit the fur out of his mouth and blink it out of his eyes.

“Neko!”

“Sorry, Bon.” 

Ryuuji dropped Konekomaru right back on the ground. He moved a little closer to Rin, dousing his red flames and dipping his head apologetically. 

Rin, fur puffed out and barely keeping his own flames away, flattened himself on the floor. 

"Did I scare ya? Sorry! I like your flames! I've never seen a demon like you before!" He crept a little closer and stuck a paw out. (He could see Yukio behind him, also puffed out and looking nervous.) 

“I’m a… kasha,” Konekomaru confessed, lowering his eyes in embarrassment. Ryuuji frowned at that. Konekomaru didn’t dig up bodies and he didn’t eat people, so Ryuuji saw no reason for him to be looked down upon. He mostly used his flames to burn back some of the rot they were eternally burdened with. 

(More naberiuses. He’d have to tell Tatsuma when he got back from the village. His dad was going to have to go burn back down the Impure King.)

"Oh! Okay." Rin didn't know what that was. "I'm a cat sidhe demon thing."  

(Yukio hated when he called them that but their lineage was weird.) 

Rin looked up at Ryuuji and the other demons watching them. Yukio was moving closer and Rin once again risked a gentle bat at Neko's head.  

Konekomaru returned the bat. Ryuuji watched them for a moment and decided they were all probably going to be okay. No one seemed to be visibly not getting along, and he trusted the others to let him know if Rin or Yukio tried anything they shouldn’t. 

With that decided, Ryuuji started towards the inn.

[its-teeem]

Basil? is Great at Conversations

Decided to try my hand at writing because Basil? haunts my every waking hour.

This is set after chapter 19 where Dorian practically confesses to murdering Basil but Henry thinks it’s a joke. Keep in mind this is in the tpodg mindscape au.

“Poor Harry,” It cooed. “If only he knew that everything he hates is packaged neatly inside of you.” 

Dorian tried not to face it, hearing it pace around behind him loudly. Instead, he continues to look at the new assortment of jewels he’s been gifted from some noble from some other dinner party he couldn’t be bothered to remember. It’s barely enough to distract himself from its voice.

“I have no doubt of the spectacle he would make, flinging himself away from you like one does from a dead animal.” It stopped walking, deciding to stand at Dorian’s left. “Harry always had an adoration for the dramatic.” 

It leaned in to peer at the opened glass case where the jewels were placed, carefully reaching out a gloved hand to pick one up to view it closer. 

“It matches Harry’s eyes.” It said, sounding rather fond. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

Against his better judgment, Dorian turned tentatively to look at it, only to see its empty eyes looking at the jewel held tenderly between its thumb and finger. It was smiling, but that too looked hollow. No matter how much it sounded like Basil, it never quite managed to replicate his impressions. 

“It’s humorous how accurately Harry was able to describe you in the piano room,” It was laughing now, rotating the jewel to inspect its cut. “You truly are nothing but a vulgar, low born, beast.”

“And you’re dead.” Dorian told it, sounding more like an attempt of an affirmation than a truth. “Why won’t you go anywhere else instead of irritating me with your presence. All you do is insult me, following me like some lovesick maiden without any of the beauty and appeal!” 

It tilted its head, grinning wider as it took note of the tremble in Dorian’s hands. Dorian hated its smile, how it would look at him like an unruly child. He hated how it squinted its eyes at him, clearly amused by the spectacle Dorian surely was to it.

“You make it sound like I’m to blame for my circumstance,” It answered softly, placing the jewel back in the case. “You’re the one who killed me dear boy, you’re the one who robbed me of a proper grave as well.” 

“It wasn’t my fault! All of this is because of you and your wretched painting!” Dorian defended himself, slamming the glass case shut in an attempt to catch its fingers under the lid. Unfortunately it expected his reaction and managed to move them just at the right time “You’re the one who wanted to bother me when I didn’t desire to speak to you. You’re the one who insisted on coming into my home and proceeded to follow me into the attic!” 

“So I’m to blame for trusting you?” It replied, delighted by Dorian’s reasoning as it tapped its finger on the glass. “It’s astonishing the lengths you go to rid yourself of any responsibility! You really can’t handle the consequences for your own actions. It's rather childish dear.” 

Dorian looked into its eyes as it leaned in closer, putting itself at eye level with him. In a sudden fit of loathing, he lifted his hands and grabbed it’s neck, tightening his grip. It didn’t move nor react, it really didn’t care as Dorian put more of his strength in strangulating it. It merely continued to look at him, empty eyes showing him his own reflection. Dorian hated how his reflection looked in its eyes. 

“I hate you.” He told it, finally letting go of its neck. He didn’t even leave a single bruise. “I’ve always hated you.”

“That’s quite alright Dorian, anything you say is of no worth to me.”

END

Yes, I drew fanart of my own made up scenario. Enjoy!!! ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و

[sigilsongs-a]

𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 ... ALL ASOIAF VERSES + verse tags

𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐢, 𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞, 𝐈.

Perianne – Pretty Peri – is at court as a companion of Princess Saera Targaryen, under she is almost always seen with the princess and their other companions; Alys, Jonah, Stinger, and Red Roy. Shortly after Perianne became the companion of the princess, her elder sister was attacked by drunken knights whilst House Moore attended a tourney in Kings Landing. Though she survived, the eldest daughter of House Moore would take her life some two months later after returning to Bronze Rock. Whilst the King, spurred on by the princess's insistence, had the men gelded and to The Wall, Perianne never quite felt whole again. She grew distant from her younger siblings, and never again visited her home in Bronze Rock after her sisters remains were interred in their family catacombs. Queen Alysanne is said to consider Peri a vain, empty-headed fool, but beneath her exterior is a vast well of emotions, mostly the grief and trauma surrounding her sisters attack and subsequent suicide, that she isn't able to process.  Additionally ... Peri is becoming more, and more aware that she has no desire for a husband, and she has dreams of taking a wife one day instead, despite enjoying the physical company of men; and despite knowing that she'll now be expected to marry as the eldest living child of House Moore.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐳𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧, 𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐀𝐮, 𝐈.

From infancy she was raised to be a beautiful, covetable prize, and instilled with all the abilities, traits, education of the milieu. First was the harp and poetry, then Peri turned those poetic words into songs and began to sing ... soon she learned to paint, and embroider, and dance. Though House Moore has always been understated in their refined affect, mineral wealth, and artistic creations, Perianne's father, a respected knight called the Bronze Spearman, had his ideals set quite high for his secondborn daughter. His firstborn, Ziah, was already wed by designation of a prearranged betrothal, and so Perianne was the daughter he would send to court. Peri enjoyed the attention her looks garnered her, flourishing as a flower would under attentive touch. The expectations her father laid on her began to build up as she floated through the royal court, at balls and feasts, as the perfect, pretty Brozen Maiden of House Moore. Everything began to crumble internally when her elder sister was attacked by drunken men with a grudge against her lord husband, and subsequently took her own life out of shame and grief. Her elder sister, Ziah, had been her closest confidant in life ... and the only person Perianne had dared confide in about how she wished she could wed a woman, and not a man. This AU Verse is applicable to all other ASOIAF timelines.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥 𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐋𝐞𝐧𝐠, 𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐀𝐮, 𝐈.

Her mother, the God-Empress of Leng, bore several children by her two husbands; with Peri being her third daughter, and the third-born of nine siblings in total. The third through ninth-born children were ascribed a precious stone as their own upon their birth, with the firstborn named for the Moon, and the secondborn ascribed the favoured stone of the God-Empress; Perianne is their Pearl Child. She is said to be the image of the revered Khiara the Great, described as a proud, vain, and intense-eyed beauty ... the fairest face in all of Leng. Peri is one of the elder siblings, referred to as the upper-rank heirs, but carries less responsibilities on herself as the third-born ... it is expected that the Pearl daughter will secure a small legion of suitors, and perhaps maintain a somewhat-polyandrist lifestyle like that of the God-Empresses — though only the God-Empress has the right to marry more than one spouse, her daughters may choose to keep several partners openly. Perianne's her eldest sisters, the Moon and Sapphire Children, serve as her mother's heiress, and the commander of her private royal guard respectively. Her younger brother, the Jade Child, is a gifted mind; designing and advancing the engineering skills of the Lengii's architects, and senior advisor to their fathers. The Tourmaline Child, the middle-born daughter, and mediator between the upper and lower-rank heirs, is the holy oracle of leng. On a ship gifted to her by her mother, a carrack dubbed The Pearl of Leng, Peri chose to venture to Essos on her eighteenth birthday ... intrigued by their strange ways and the lure of foreign experiences. Additionally, as a lover of all things beautiful, she hopes to collect fine wears, purchase treasures, and other tokens to mark the chapters and locations of her travel. This AU Verse is applicable to all other ASOIAF timelines.