#him starting off as a VILE ANIMAL CREATURE is why i love him

[byjovewhataspend]

Kacchan Bias

the left wouldnt be REMOTELY interesting to me if it werent for the right

[saintbleeding]

Hii~

So i saw this on a tumblr post but is very jonmartin

"Jon and Martin are planning their wedding, they want to have their cat as ring bearer (is this how it's called?) But Martin doesn't know the name of the cat because they always call it different nicknames and jon just doesn't tell him and he don't want to admit that after all that years don't know.

Because jon didn't know either! he thinks that the cat is Martin's and he also is trying to figure out the name."

Martin’s not a cat person.

Honestly, he’s just not really an animal person. Like, in general.

The same isn’t true for Jon, of course. On, like, their second date, Jon—who, up until that point, had been all leather elbow patches on his stupid tweed jackets and “hmm, perhaps” and thoughtful squinting—got approached by a cat in the street, and pretty much melted on the spot.

Martin melted, too, but for slightly different reasons.

So it wasn't really a surprise when Jon moved in and Cat started turning up. Sure, it felt a little bit out of character for Jon not to excitedly announce that, one, he'd gotten a pet cat really recently, and, two, he was bringing it into Martin's place, which is a relatively humble little cottage, but Cat seems to free-roam most of the time, so it's not like she's encroaching on much of the space. And, anyway, it's not like Martin hates cats, so he doesn't mind. He just sort of thought Jon would have said something. But he didn't.

So.

You know.

There's a cat.

She's grown on Martin over time. In fact, it's usually him that wakes up with her purring and headbutting him at fuck-off o'clock in the morning, and Jon's not a heavy sleeper, so if she'd attacked him first, Martin would know.

But she's nice. Lovely little tufts of fur between her toes, and quite a deep meow for such a pretty lady. He'll call her Lady Catherine sometimes, and Jon's got the gall to pretend he doesn't think it's hilarious. Mind you, Jon's terms of endearment for her skew a bit more—pejorative, for lack of a better term? Like, Cat will take the opportunity when Jon is hunched over a stack of student essays at the dining table, and she'll leap onto his shoulders, and do that loaf thing, and Jon always says "unhand me, you infernal creature", or the few times she has bothered Jon in the middle of the night for pre-dawn breakfast service, he's grumbled "vile beast" even as he gets up to feed her.

Martin's tried telling him he shouldn't be encouraging her. But Jon just turns around and says "yes, I know, that's why I chastise her".

Martin stays impressed that someone so smart can be so stupid. Which he means affectionately, obviously. If he didn't, they wouldn't be getting married.

Which is great, by the way. It's great.

Does present some—unique problems, though.

Martin's got absolutely no bloody clue what her actual name is.

Which, you know, it's not like he's filling out adoption papers or anything, but at some point after some late-night banter it became part of the plan that Cat should be the ring-bearer at the wedding.

And he can't not know the name of a member of the party at his own wedding.

So he starts sleuthing.

"Hey," he says one evening, when GBBO is over and they're just sitting there with the telly on mute.

Jon looks up from his thorough inspection of Cat's beans, her paw gently clasped between his thumb and forefinger, and goes "Mm?"

"Been thinking."

Jon lifts one eyebrow. "Mm?"

"We could get her a proper little collar and everything."

Jon blinks a couple of times, then smiles. "Oh, for the wedding, you mean?" Martin nods. "Oh, yes, it could match your tie."

Okay, that's adorable, but also, unfortunately, not the point.

"Ooh, yeah," he says, then: "Oh! And, like, a little engraved name-tag. Really fancy."

Jon's eyes narrow almost imperceptibly.

"Yes," he says, tone completely unreadable. "Silver or gold, do you think?"

Martin's suddenly wondering if it's a trap.

"Dunno," he says, turning his eyes back to the brightly-coloured advert on the screen. "What's her vibe, you think?"

In the corner of his eye he sees Jon's jaw working silently as he searches for something to say.

"I think your input should be taken into consideration," he says, lifting his chin as Cat stands, stretches, and headbutts him. "Since... you know."

Martin considers whether or not Jon's messing with him, because frankly, he very much does not know.

"Mmm. Well! Uh- I- I like gold. Would match our bands."

"True enough," Jon says. Cat leaps onto the back of the sofa, and they're both silent till she curls up there and falls back asleep.

Jon doesn't seem very eager to say anything else.

Bugger.

"So..." Martin says, lifting his glasses to rub his eyes. "Um... what's the spelling, again?"

Jon's blurry form sits up straighter, and when Martin puts his glasses back on he sees his mouth open in shock.

"Might I ask why you're asking me?" Jon says, which doesn't make any sense.

"W- um. Y- you know, you're the English teacher."

Jon inclines his head to the side, frowning. "Hmm," he goes. "W- I- I- yes, I—mm." He lowers himself back against the sofa again. "The usual way."

Martin sighs.

"Right," he says. "Okay."

The silence gets a bit fraught, then. When Martin stands up to take their mugs to the kitchen, he might be a tiny bit huffy. It's possible.

Jon follows him, and he stays huffy, because it's easier to keep up than neutrality when he's trying to hide that he's a bit annoyed and a bit embarrassed.

"Everything alright?" Jon says, leaning casually against the fridge as Martin puts way too much effort into scrubbing both mugs clean.

"Mm."

Several seconds pass.

"Could I say something?" Jon asks, a bit hesitantly.

If Martin had to guess, he'd put money on "you're a negligent idiot for not paying enough attention to know my cat's name and I hate you".

"Yeah."

Jon exhales audibly behind him, as though amused.

"With all due respect and affection, darling—" He pauses till Martin is finished aggressively rinsing the mugs. Martin still doesn't turn to face him, though, because he's a tiny bit scared of where this is going, honestly. "If you've forgotten how to spell your own cat's name, that's not, strictly speaking, my fault, is it?"

Martin turns around.

Several things occur to him at once.

First, Cat's a dirty freeloader who owes Martin like fourteen months of rent.

Second, it might, legitimately, have been a coincidence that she and Jon moved in around the same time.

Third, he can't remember a time he's heard Jon use any method of address on her except for creature, or beast, or the ones Martin uses himself.

Which means, fourth, Jon doesn't know her bloody name either.

Because she's not his cat.

Well.

"Okay," Martin says. "Let's assume I have forgotten. Couldn't you just—help me out—and spell it?"

"Martin," Jon says disparagingly with a frown.

"Jon," Martin says, trying really hard not to smirk.

Jon does that thing where his mouth starts in a flat line, but as his irritation grows, his nose scrunches up, and the line of his mouth slowly rises up his face until he exclaims inarticulately and throws his hands in the air in defeat.

"Fine!" he says. "Fine, okay, alright, fine. I—I don't—I don't know. I don't know! I meant to ask, but I felt negligent not having known when I moved in, and then, after a month or seven I couldn't very well come out and ask, could I? And then—good heavens, it's been more than a year, there was no subtle way to recover!"

Martin's not laughing at him.

But he is laughing.

Breathlessly, uncontrollably, doubling over—to the point where Jon actually crosses the few steps separating them in the tiny kitchen to place a hand on his shoulder, gently guiding him upright with a concerned look on his face.

"Sorry," Martin manages eventually, wiping tears from his eyes. "Christ, sorry, I'm just—"

He takes a deep, measured breath.

"I've got to tell you something," he says sheepishly. Jon puts his hands on Martin's shoulders and looks into his face with the earnest sobriety that, even now, gives Martin butterflies.

"Anything," he says, still frowning intensely.

Martin averts his eyes. "She's not my cat either."

When Jon stops laughing, he spends the rest of the evening lecturing Cat in his Not Mad Just Disappointed voice ("identity fraud is an extremely serious matter, young lady, and you are terribly lucky you have such sweet little eyes, or I might be compelled to take legal action against you, please let go of my nose").

Oh, but they do end up getting her an engraved gold name-tag for the ceremony.

It says 'Lady Catherine (Beast)'.

[cyncerity]

pirate Quackity my beloved! Anything you want to share abt him?

see i was gonna post a little blurb about Q’s backstory, but i have no self control, so you get an entire half-story-half-ramble about pumpkin duo since their backstories are very intertwined. it’s very long and i apologize in advance.

tw: minor character death, torture, slavery, discrimination

Quackity left his home in the trees of the forest he was born in at a young age. He had his flock, but he wasn’t particularly close with any of them, and he dreamed of bigger things than spending his life hiding from the society humans had built. He wasn’t stupid, he knew how dangerous those creatures were, what they would do to him, but he was 16 with stars in his eyes and he felt indestructible.

He traveled for a few months, never settling. He loved to move, to adventure. He thought he’d never be caught, but it all had to go wrong eventually.

When he was 17 he landed in a port town with a strong hatred of hybrids like him. He didn’t plan to stay for long, he was smart enough to know when staying in a certain place was too big a risk, but there was a storm coming so he decided to hide for the night in the nearest shelter he could.

he’d regret that decision for the next 3 years.

the owner of the building, a vile and greedy man, found him in the rafters. Quackity was scared, angry, and confused as to why he would even have been looking in the rafters when the man burst into a hidden room of the house and Quackity learned the horrible, horrible truth.

Lining the walls, stacked to the ceilings and in piles all over the ground, were dozens and dozens of avians in cages. All with clipped wings, some looking more scorned than others, some chirping pitifully and others completely silent. Quackity went off. He screamed and cursed as his belongings were taken, his limbs bound and he was shoved against the ground as his wings were clipped against his will and he was thrown in a cage.

Over the next 2 years, he learned a lot. This man he’d been taken by not only kidnapped avians, but bred them, forcing his captives to procreate against their wills in order to breed obedient avians. Avians that were raised as birds, as animals. They couldn’t even speak, only chirp and chitter, completely uninterested in anything their fellow avians tried to teach them about their culture and only excited when the man or his lackies came in to feed them. Quackity could see the start of the lack of sapience behind their eyes.

He learned he was being kept here as storage for any “potential sales.” The man who took him sold avians as pets, servants, food, you name it. As long as he was paid, he didn’t care what happened to the hybrids. It was his job, though, to make sure all of his stock was well behaved. Quackity distinctly wasn’t.

Quackity was never silent. They rattled his cage, tore his feathers, broke his bones, but he refused to silence his voice. The man even paid about a dozen men to take care of the avians so he didn’t have to see them, but the man took care of Quackity himself most nights he was punished. Quackity could see how much his insubordination was grating on the man.

It was the start of the third year when everything changed.

One day the man came in earlier than he normally did with a tall, imposing man with a stare that could kill following behind him. The new man was built. Thick arms, facial hair, and a massive beanie over his head. He could kill any one of these birds in a moment if he wished to. The man brought the supposed new hire to the cages, and told him about a “specific bird who’s too much a pain in my ass to deal with anymore who I woulda sold or killed by now if his species weren’t so rare in these parts. He can make us a pretty penny if you can get him to behave.” Quackity felt scared in that moment. The idea that the only reason his life was being spared was his species, a blue backed yellow parrot, and this new lacky had been hired specifically for him. He had no other duties than to train Quackity like a dog. He wouldn’t be able to speak to the other avians anymore when there were no humans around. But he wouldn’t give up hope.

The man handed Quackity’s cage over to the lacky and instructed that he be kept in his room so he “wasn’t a bad influence on the rest of the stock.” Quackity screamed and cursed the whole way to the room, only shutting up when the man unlocked his cage and grabbed him with a tight fist, knocking all the air out of him. He was roughly handed over to the new hire and the door was closed, leaving them alone.

Quackity was prepared for anything, in that moment. To be hit. Thrown. Killed, even. He waited for the shoe to drop (perhaps literally), and it took a long time. He carefully looked up to the man who held him in now open palms and saw some unreadable emotion forming behind his eyes.

Quackity was prepared for anything, except maybe what happened next.

The new guy’s eyes started to water. He set Quackity gently, so gently, gentler than he’d been handled in years. “Oh gods…” he heard the man mutter, the first words he’d said all day. He rummaged through a nearby drawer and found a first aid kit, pulling out a small splash health pot, disinfect, a roll of bandages, and scissors that he used to carefully cut the bandage into smaller strips. “Would you mind…?” the man whispered, gesturing to Quackity’s rapidly bruising chest. Quackity, too stunned to deny, lifted his arms and wings for the man to get easier access to his chest, which caused the stranger to suck in a gasp. Quackity looked to where his eyes went, and saw that they landed on his wings. His clipped, scarred, and battered wings. The human reached for them, but pulled his hand back before Quackity even had a chance to flinch. He simply poured a little bit of the health pot on his finger and carefully brushed it over Quackity’s chest, the bruises tingling and dissipating quickly. Quackity could feel the sincerity in his touch, the care behind it. Quackity felt his own eyes start to water. The man continued to try and fix him up, healing the rest of his bruises and bandaging what he could.

No words were shared between them. The human couldn’t be trusted, Quackity knew that. He was hired by the horrible, horrible man to train him to be a perfect little bird. But…he was tired. He hadn’t been touched in so long, it was nice to not be scared. This human hadn’t hurt him. Quackity didn’t have faith that he wouldn’t in the future, he didn’t trust the man, but he decided to take advantage of the situation while he could.

After the stranger finished a bandage on his arm, he pulled away and turned his back to the human. He bowed his head, eyes closed and praying, and spread his wings behind him, an open invitation. There was no immediate response, but slowly, so careful it made his heart hurt, he felt a finger trace down his wings. A shiver went down his spine, his muscles relaxing despite himself. Very gently, and didn’t that seem to be a theme with this giant, he felt an old feather be plucked from his back then fall away. He stayed like that, eyes still closed and head still bowed, for what felt like hours as this stranger took his sweet time making sure every feather on his wings was healthy, never pulling too hard for anything but the old dead ones to fall. Eventually, the giant broke the silence. “Thank you.” he said. Quackity didn’t respond, but raised his head in response. The giant took this as que to continue. “I know how important your wings are to you, as an avian. I know that you feel like your autonomy has been taken. I understand, on some level. I don’t know what you’ve gone through, but I’m sorry. If you’re letting a stranger work on your wings, especially a stranger like me, then I’m sure you’ve been through hell. Thank you, though, for letting me help you with something so intamately personal. I hope you let me keep helping you.” With that, he smoothed the wings down a final time, and Quackity felt that they were perfect, cleaner than they had been since he left home.

That broke Quackity. He sobbed quietly, still refusing to face the human. “My boss called you ‘parrot.’ What’s your name, really?” “You say you understand on a level.” Quackity said, his first words directed at the man all day pointedly ignoring the question he asked. “You don’t. Don’t you dare compare your experience with everything i’ve been put through here.” “I may understand more than you think.” Quackity, utterly enraged that this human have the gall to believe he had any idea how the avian felt, finally turned to look at the man.

The first thing he noticed was that his hat was off. The second was that the man was distinctly not human.

Looking at the man’s forehead he could see the remnants of large horns, and on the sides of his head were ears that had likely once been longer before being cut. Taking these things in mind, he took a longer look at the man’s face and realized that through the golden sunset light casting on his face through a window, lightening his dark brown eyes, his pupils were horizontal. “Ram.” the huma- no, hybrid, supplemented before pulling the beanie back on. “I get what it’s like to feel unsafe. Us hybrids have to be in this together.” Quackity sat silently, staring stupidly at the spot where the now covered horns were before. He introduced himself. The ram smiled back and did the same.

Quackity had met his savior in Schlatt. A fellow hybrid, Schlatt had spent his time “teaching the avian to behave” actually getting to know Quackity and appreciate his company. Quackity taught Schlatt everything that had happened in the years he’d been there, and Schlatt was horrified. Apparently he’d taken the job because it was under the table and a lot of money. He’d had some not-so-legal business ventures in the past, and a past employer recommended him to the avian thief who had kidnapped Quackity oh so long ago. Plus with his hybrid origin, he preferred to stay out of the public eyes as much as possible. He never expected to find anything like this. Quackity, in turn, learned about the world outside his prison. Apparently hybrids were legally less than people on this island, which sucked, but it was still illegal to be treating them like this. Along with finally treating Quackity like a person, Schlatt helped him achieve something he never thought he’d have again: flight. Re-learning how to fly, especially since his wings weren’t fully healed, was frustrating at best and dangerous at worst. Quackity jumped and fell more often than flew, but Schlatt caught him every time. The two grew closer as their hatred for the man who controlled them both grew more and more everyday, until they finally devised a plan.

It was a cold, dark morning when the man who’d for too long been freely torturing avians had died. Schlatt had taken note of where he kept his pistols long ago, and knew where he slept. If anyone heard the gunshot in the too early hours of the day, then no one cared about the man enough to check on him. Quackity, at the same time, had a list of keys that he and Schlatt had made over the span of a year. Quackity and Schlatt had taken careful count of what keys were used on what avians to open their cages for feeding, and had committed all the numbers to a single sheet of paper. Before Schlatt had gone to the man’s room that night, he had managed to snag the key ring from a fellow employee.

Quackity returned to the cage room and flew to each cage with the key, freeing his fellow avians and encouraging them to help him when they were out. Schlatt came back to help soon after, and soon everyone was freed. Schlatt and Quackity left together, not having formally spoken about staying together as a team after the fact, but neither felt the need to separate after it was all said and done. After all, they didn’t have anyone else. Quackity left his flock, and while Schlatt had a twin sister once upon a time, they were separated as children and sold off into different hybrid trades that Schlatt had to cut his own horns and ears off to get out of. He never saw her again, choosing to live as a human. He hoped that she was ok, wherever she ended up. For the while, Quackity and Schlatt had enough money from Schlatt’s job working there and some extra that he stole from the boss that they could charter a ship away. Finally, they could move on.

Except nothing could ever be simple, could it?

Schlatt found himself in chains the next morning, violently ripped out of the little inn he and Quackity were staying in for the night before they were set to sail off the next morning. Someone had seen the avian prison riot and Schlatt leave with them as the only human. The only one capable of operating a pistol. When they went to tell the boss, they found his body and had quickly figured out that the one missing employee was the one responsible. And in barging in, they had seen Schlatt without his hat on. A hybrid. A monster who had killed a human man.

He hadn’t stood a chance.

If there was one thing luck spared them, it was that Quackity was out of sight. When Schlatt was dragged away, Quackity followed a ways behind and eventually managed to catch up with Schlatt through the bars of a cell window. Schlatt gave him the news that he’d be headed to the gallows at sunrise in a few hours. Quackity said he would fix it. Schlatt believed as best he could, but still gave his best friend a tearful goodbye. Q refused to allow himself to give one back, only promising he’d return before flying off to find help.

Quackity was panicked. He was just an avian, Schlatt and him were just animals to these people, he had no way to get them on his side. And even if someone would hear him out to help, their money had been taken by the men who arrested his best friend, so he had no bribery. He was about to lose hope before he spotted something he never thought he’d see on the island: a man with a tail loading crates onto a ship. The man was strong, handsome, and so, so clearly a hybrid. His skin was grey and gritty in patches, his teeth deadly sharp, and had what looked to be a shark tail. Though the look of such an obvious predator frightened Quackity on an instinctual level, the thought of watching the one person he’d cared about in years be hanged in front of him was about one hundred times scarier.

He flew over and demanded the man’s attention, begging him to help a fellow hybrid in need. To his shock and delight, the larger hybrid set the crate down and devoted his full attention to what Quackity was saying. Quackity begged with all he had, offering anything he could. Remembering what the boss had said about his worth, he even offered himself. If giving his freedom back over to someone else and being sold for their fortune was enough to save Schlatt’s life, he’d go through that caged hell all over again, and then all over again after that for good measure. He couldn’t let his best friend die because he’d fought for his freedom.

The hybrid said that wouldn’t be necessary, and he knew people who’d help. He introduced himself as Foolish, a crew member on the ship he was restocking, and brought Quackity over to a sheep hybrid and a freakishly tall human man. At least, he initially thought he was human. But when he laughed to his companion, he had the same pointy grin as Foolish, and Q noted fin like ears hidden behind long black messily braided hair. The probably-some-type-of-mer man and the woman with split colored hair and long spiraled horns were talking and laughing before noticing their presence. Foolish introduced them as Puffy and Bad, the captain and first mate respectively. Quackity gave them a shortened version of his plea and both of them were on board immediately, even before Quackity finished begging, drawing the rest of the crew to the dock to fight with them. Quackity could have cried in relief.

They all made it to the gallows with little time to spare. The rope was already around Schlatt’s throat, a man in front of him speaking to the crowd on how a simple animal had taken the lives of one of their own before the wooden beam holding the rope spluttered into pieces with a loud bang and snap, dropping Schlatt unharmed to the ground of the stage. Everyone in the crowd, Schlatt and the speaker included, looked back to find the unruly band of pirates at the back of the crowd, one holding a smoking double barrel shotgun, and now plus one avian. And from the looks of the people, they seemed to know these pirates and not be to fond of them, especially since the man in front of Schlatt started cursing out Bad by name.

Bad tried to chastise the man, but Puffy stepped forward, surprising him into silence. She didn’t say a word, just kept her eyes trained on Schlatt, who Quackity realized was doing the same. She calmly walked to the stage, likely not being stopped by any townsfolk due to her two drawn and slightly bloodstained swords. When she got to the stage, she just stopped, staring Schlatt in the eye for a moment before seemingly making her decision. She sheathed her swords and climbed up on stage, wordlessly hugging the other ram. Schlatt was frozen for a moment before he began to sob quietly into her shoulder and tightly hug her back, and though they couldn’t see Puffy’s face, the sputtering of her chest seemed to indicate she was doing the same. The crowd was frozen, too stunned to move…until one of Puffy’s arms released its hold on Schlatt and soundlessly drew a pistol from her coat, shooting the announcer point blank in the forehead without even looking up. The crowd panicked, and the guards who were there quickly fought back, but were quickly either injured or struck down by the pirates as Puffy dragged Schlatt back to the crew and they all made their escape.

Schlatt and Quackity reunited, both happy the other was safe, and Puffy was able to introduce Schlatt to the rest of her crew: this was her long lost twin brother. It was complete luck that Quackity went to one of her crew mates for help, and now she has her only family back. She invited both Quackity and Schlatt to stay on the ship indefinitely, to join them on the ship not just as charter passengers, but permanent crew members. Quackity could see how eagerly Schlatt wanted this, but he looked to Quackity for confirmation. Q scanned the faces. Bad’s kind smile, Puffy’s fearless confidence, Foolish’s radiance of positivity, a man in green with glasses that just looked happy to be there, a taller man with pink hair and gold accents (the one who had shot Schlatt down from the pole), a pixie that hung around Bad’s shoulders at all times, and more. He found that he wanted to know these people more. With that, the two boarded the ship, quickly being welcomed in with open arms by the crew, and finally having found the means to escape.

[its-jaytothemee]

Until I Met You - Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Introductions

Pairings: Halsin x Tav

Word count: 3,898

Rating: Currently M, will be Explicit in later chapters.

Read on AO3

Next

Summary: A slow burn Tav and Halsin romance fic about their relationship forming between the major events of Baldur's Gate 3, and probably a little bit after too. Explores Tav's friendships with some of the other companions, but mainly Karlach. Lots of longing and fluff, including plenty of soft Halsin moments.

Tags: Slow burn, hurt/comfort, love confessions, eventual smut, light angst, implied past rape/non-con

A/N: After starting another playthrough specifically to romance Halsin, I decided to write some additional details of how their relationship forms throughout the game. Not sure how many chapters there will be yet...we'll see where the game takes me :) There will be POVs from both Tav and Halsin throughout the fic. Enjoy!

The disgusting sight of the goblin camp was bested only by the smell that assaulted the group’s nostrils as they strolled through the mucked-up halls.

“Ugh, goblins are such vile little beasts. Remind me why we agreed to come here?” Tav could hear the eye roll in Astarion’s tone.

“Because Astarion, there’s a medically talented Archdruid who can maybe help rid us of these tadpoles who is being held and probably tortured by these little beasts.” She tried to keep her voice down but found it hard to stay quiet while keeping up with Astarion’s quips.

“Speak for yourself, my friend. My tadpole and I are getting along swimmingly. I can walk in the sun, wade through rivers, and enter any home I like. I’m living the dream.” He teased back at her.

“All good points. I’ll make sure to remind you of them when your skin is turning purple and sprouting tentacles.” She turned back with a smile just in time to catch Astarion’s playful glare.

“Hey soldier, eyes up. Archers on the beams.” Karlach had her eyes fixed above them on the two goblins patrolling the large chamber.

“Best exercise caution. I might remind you all that goblins come by dozens when one of those war drums sounds off.” Gale was clutching his staff with a white-knuckled grip.

They carefully continued exploring the unfamiliar temple, on the lookout for anything that could give them a clue to Halsin’s whereabouts. Tav had thought the mercenaries and tiefling refugees may have been exaggerating about the goblins. But now that they were here amid their den of depravity, she was starting to doubt the abilities of her party – and herself. The numbers alone were enough to overwhelm them even if Karlach could cleave three goblins at a time.

In one of the far corners, Astarion spotted a small path that wound around into a back room. There was a door guarded by a few goblins, but they were able to pass by them easily while still passing as ‘True Souls.’ The air around them somehow smelled worse as they walked into the next room. The mix of decaying flesh and the worg pens caused them all to gag slightly. Several small laughs and squeals drew their attention towards another prison cell, inside was a very large cave bear. Two young goblins were throwing stones at the bear huddled in the corner of the cage. Tav quickly and quietly cast Speak with Animals just as the bear’s eyes locked on to hers.

“Stop them…free me.” The bear growled. Listening to its voice, Tav noticed the smallest tone difference between this bear and other animals she had spoken to in the past. Given Rath’s description of Halsin, she was almost certain this bear was the Archdruid they had been searching for.

“Again! Again!” One of the young goblins squealed, picking up another rock. Tav jogged up to them.

“He’s helpless! Let him go.” She demanded.

“Tav, what are you doing? We can’t stop to help every furry creature in need.” Astarion didn’t even try to hide his disapproval. She turned around to glare at him and called on their shared tadpole.

“Astarion! Use whatever piece of your brain the tadpole hasn’t eaten yet. This is obviously Halsin from the Emerald Grove.” She held her glare until he seemed to understand their situation. He let out an exaggerated sigh and backed off.

Gale groaned behind her, realizing that they were probably going to be fighting off the several goblins and worgs in the room with them.

“The beast is stayin’ right ‘ere.” The older goblin responded, taking a step towards Tav.

“I’m ending this. Now.” She growled back. The bear let out a small roar in response.

“Time for blood.” Its voice was a low snarl.

Before she had a chance to react, the cave bear rammed into the cell doors, effortlessly breaking them from their hinges. The older goblin was crushed beneath the heavy iron, causing a scream from the two younger ones.

“The guards! Get the guards!” One of the little ones yelled. They both turned to run past Tav and her party.

“Those little brats are going to bring this whole fucking camp down on us!” Astarion yelled, daggers twirling in his hands.

“Then take care of it you whiny prick!” Tav yelled back at him, lunging for the goblin that was looking after the worgs. Karlach followed suit, jumping back up the stairs to swing at a goblin that had been butchering some suspicious looking meat.

“We’re killing children now?!” Gale cried from the top of the stairs. A thin line of ice shot from his hands to the goblin archer approaching them from the rear.

“Goblin children, darling. Hardly a moral dilemma.” Astarion responded, driving his dagger into the chest of the first young goblin.

“Perhaps but still, I think we should discuss –” Gale started to respond but let out a strangled yell that interrupted him. When Tav looked back she saw an arrow sticking out of his neck, and blood was starting to spew from his mouth. Another arrow suddenly struck him in the chest. He made a small choking sound before collapsing to the floor.

“Shit! Gale’s down!” Tav yelled. When she turned away, the goblin she was fighting tried to make a swipe at her but was quickly taken down by the cave bear that had rushed to her side.

“He’s going to have to wait! We can’t risk these little monsters alerting the rest of the camp.” Astarion was slicing his blade across the throat of the other young goblin.

Tav drew her bow and shot two arrows into the worg pens, easily landing the shots right between their eyes. She could hear Gale’s labored breaths, the sound was warped by the blood spilling into his throat. Karlach took her goblin out with one more clean swing of her axe and turned to the archer.

“I’ll get Gale, take that archer down!” Tav yelled. The others all moved in to surround the last goblin as Tav dashed over to him. She quickly looked him over, ready to remove the arrow in his neck so she could heal him. Before she could start the spell, she heard one last raspy gurgle come from Gale before his body went limp.

“Fuck.” Tav whispered under her breath. She pulled her pack to the front of her waist and started frantically searching through it. They had found a couple of revivification scrolls on their journey that she was certain she had stored in her pack somewhere. Just as she started to search through the pockets, the air around her became thick with the smell of death.

“What the…” She started to exclaim before she became horribly sick, necrotic energy swirled all around her. Startled and struggling to breathe, she jumped back a few feet away from Gale’s body, allowing her to cough the toxic air from her lungs.

The last goblin’s body fell to the floor with a soft thud. Karlach and Astarion walked back down to join Tav, examining Gale and the small cloud of death encircling his lifeless body.

“Terribly tragic, always a sad day when you lose a friend. Oh well, best we keep moving before these goblins catch wind of our little fight.” Astarion said, waving his hand in the air nonchalantly and starting to walk away.

“Astarion…” Tav grumbled and turned to shoot him a warning glare. He smiled sweetly in response.

Before they could say anything else, an illusion of Gale popped up in front of Tav, causing a small scream to escape her lips.

“Well met! I am a magical projection of Gale of Waterdeep, and if you see this manifestation, that means I have prematurely perished.”

“Oh for fucks’ sake Gale…” Tav pressed one hand to her forehead, already exasperated by Gale’s afterlife theatrics.

“…it is of vital importance that my death be remedied at your earliest convenience.”

“How am I supposed to bring you back then?” Tav asked, annoyed.

The three of them sat and listened to Gale’s projection list a very detailed description of his security protocol to receive a scroll of true resurrection. First, they had to retrieve a small pouch from his robes which Astarion deftly picked from his pocket. To open the pouch, they had to unwind the purple cord in a counterclockwise motion. Inside, they found a small flute and a folded letter with notes in the corners that they would have to play. Next, a magma mephit was supposed to appear and pose the question ‘I’ss k’cha t’chiss n’aga’ to which the answer should be K’ha’ssji’trach’ash. The mephit would then give them the scroll.

“Well shit.” Tav muttered. “Does anyone know how to play a flute?”

Karlach and Astarion shrugged in response, the panic they felt evident on their faces.

“I at least caught the mephit name!” Karlach offered.

“Gods above, Gale!” Tav yelled. “What are the chances that whoever you’re dying around knows how to play a fucking flute?!” She waved the small instrument in front of the projection’s face, whose expression didn’t change. While she continued berating the magical illusion in front of her, she failed to hear the magical whoosh behind her.

“…and even if we do figure this out, it won’t matter! Because I’m going to punch you so hard that I send you in to the beyond again! And then I’ll revive you, just to choke the life out of you so we get to do this shitshow all over again!” Tav was stomping and screaming at the projection now. She noticed Karlach and Astarion staring past her, bewildered looks on both of their faces. Was Astarion…blushing?

“Excuse me,” A deep voice called out from behind her, “perhaps I could be of some assistance? It’s the least I could do.” She could only assume it belonged to Halsin.

 “Look, I know we came here to free you and all and yes, we will need your help but right now our melodramatic friend has…” She had whipped around ready to tear into the mysterious addition to their group, but her breath caught once she was able to fully look at the Archdruid.

Tav wasn’t sure what she had been expecting to see when they met Halsin, but it certainly wasn’t the large, handsome elf standing in front of her. She was rather large for an elf, but Halsin made her feel tiny. Her mouth was hanging open, unable to form words as she stared him down. His smile was enchanting, his tanned skin covered in blood from their fight.

“I owe you my thanks, I am the druid Halsin. I did not expect to meet the acquaintance of someone who would not only speak with a bear, but free it too. I’m always happy to meet another true friend of nature. And you are?”

“I’m…” Tav sputtered, “…single.” Her voice was barely a whisper. She shook her head to regain some semblance of composure. She could hear Astarion giggling like a child behind her.

“Tav…my name is Tav.” She finally blurted out.

“Oakfather preserve you, Tav. Now I’d be happy to…”

Halsin was speaking but she wasn’t really listening to his words. She saw that he was holding his hand out to her. Without thinking, she placed her hand in his and gave a soft handshake, interrupting him. He gave her a confused look, still smiling.

“As I was saying, I know how to play the flute if that would help to resurrect your friend.” He was still smiling at her.

Tav’s face and chest turned a deep red and she yanked her hand back quickly. Astarion burst out laughing behind her, almost falling over. Karlach at least had the decency to try and cover her laugh. She handed over the small flute and quickly unfolded the paper, holding it in front of her face to try and hide her blush.

“Okay so his instructions said to play the notes listed in the corners of the pages, starting in the bottom right, and working our way around the page clockwise. I’ll read them off to you. Ready?” She asked, peeking over the page at Halsin. He gave a small nod, flute held up to his lips.

“D…” The first note floated through the air.

“E…” Halsin switched gracefully to the next note.

“A…” Another note rang in across the room. Tav paused before reading the last note, fighting the urge to roll her eyes.

“…D…” The last note echoed off the walls slightly mixing with the groans of her companions. Of course his resurrection tune spelled out ‘dead.’

A small magma mephit appeared in front of them.

“I’ss k’cha t’chiss n’aga.” He asked.

“K’ha’ssji’trach’ash!” Karlach responded, excited to help.

“D’a jah’jah s’um!” The mephit leaned forward as Tav held the folded paper in front of her. The small note transformed into an ornate scroll. She turned back to Gale as the mephit vanished.

Tav read the incantation and felt a warm swirling energy gather around her. It was quickly transferred to Gale who disappeared momentarily. He reappeared in front of her, standing and gasping for air. His hands shot up to his neck, feeling the area where the arrow had pierced him. Then he started laughing.

“You did it! Oh it feels good to be alive. I’m sorry to say my hands are still quite cold, so a handshake will have –” Gale was interrupted by Tav punching him in the gut, letting out a loud grunt.

“That was for your ridiculous protocol. What if we couldn’t find someone who could have played the flute? What if you had died and we weren’t around? We need to do something about that orb, Gale.” Tav was yelling again, she wasn’t truly angry with him though. She had come to like Gale, seeing him dead had upset her more than she cared to admit.

“You know the volatility of my condition, Tav. The element of mystery helps persuade others to keep me amongst the living. Sore abdominals aside…I sincerely thank you.” He wheezed back.

“You’re welcome,” Tav sighed, “and welcome back.” She nudged his arm slightly.

“Thank you for your help.” Tav looked back over to Halsin. “I suppose proper introductions are in order.” She wanted to put her embarrassing display from earlier behind her.

“This is Gale, that’s Karlach back there, and Astarion standing next to her.” She pointed to each of her companions as she introduced them. Karlach waved enthusiastically, Gale was still bent over catching his breath, and Astarion wiggled his fingers seductively in their direction.

“A pleasure, truly. Might I ask how you found me?” Halsin looked between the four of them.

“We’ve been to the Emerald Grove, it’s in danger.” Tav responded. She quickly filled Halsin in on their adventure so far. Kagha’s alliance with the Shadow Druids, the cult of the Absolute, the mercenaries that had escaped from the goblins. She paused, trying to decide if she should tell him about the tadpoles yet. Before she could continue, Halsin held a hand out in front of her.

“That look in your eyes…” He said quietly. A golden glow surrounded her as Halsin closed his eyes in concentration.

“Oakfather preserve you child, you’re infected, aren’t you?” He jerked his hand back to his side. Tav placed a hand on her sword, prepared for a fight. Halsin held his hands up innocently.

“It’s no coincidence that you found me, I wager. I’ve been studying these tadpoles. They’re different from how mind flayers typically procreate.”

Halsin launched into a summary of his research surrounding the tadpoles. Of course, there wasn’t going to be a simple cure for their affliction. He confirmed that their tadpoles were special, altered, just as they suspected. He was also able to give them their next destination, Moonrise Towers. She froze at the mention of Moonrise. It was their first solid lead since the nautiloid crashed, but the news filled Tav with dread. She knew all too well the evil that besieged that land. Without thinking, she stepped close to Halsin, leaning in so only he could hear her. She reached up and grabbed his arm, trying to keep her balance.

“You’re sure that’s where we need to go?” She asked quietly, in Elvish. “That is no easy task.”

His expression softened and he gave her a knowing look in response.

“You know of this place?” He lowered his voice to match hers, as smooth as his voice was before, it was nothing compared to hearing him speak their native tongue.

“Unfortunately, yes. I would not go back there unless I had no other choice.” Tav’s hand was starting to shake slightly against his arm, but he placed his other hand over hers to steady it. His hands were lightly calloused but warm and comforting. She felt the blushing feeling returning to her face.

“It will be dangerous, but it can be done. And perhaps, we can see the light there again.” He whispered back. His voice was hopeful, but his face was a mask of pain.

We? Before she could respond, she heard Astarion clear his throat loudly.

“Care to include us in your little whispers, darlings?” He practically sang the words.

Tav quickly let go of Halsin but noticed his hand lingered on hers for just a fraction of a second longer.

“Don’t be jealous, love. There’s enough of me to go around.” She composed herself and flashed a teasing grin at him.

“Thank you, Halsin. At least we know where to go now.” Tav turned back to face him.

“Wait,” He called after her, “I could accompany you if you’ll have me. I’ve long sought to return to Moonrise.”

“Great!” Tav said a little too quickly. “We just have to find a way to sneak through this camp and we can get you back to the Emerald Grove. Could you shift into something small so we can sneak you out? Like a mouse or a bird?”

“I cannot do that.” Halsin said, his voice lower than before.

“So much for a powerful Archdruid.” Astarion murmured. Halsin pursed his lips.

“I cannot allow these butchers to continue to threaten the Grove. I have no right to ask it of you, but if you would lend me your aid in removing the goblins’ leadership, I would be free to join you on your journey.”

Tav considered his offer for a moment. They were a capable group of fighters, but there was an alarming number of goblins between them and the three leaders. Even with Halsin, she wasn’t sure if they could fight their way out. Then she thought back to the refugees, the tieflings sheltered in the Grove. Even if they could sneak past the entire camp, Zevlor and his kin would never be able to survive on the road. Halsin was right, they needed to take out the leaders.

“Having a shapeshifting bear-druid at my side might make things easier.” She smiled at him and held out her hand. “Welcome to the team.”

He smiled back at her and clasped her forearm, once again lingering just a little longer than she would have expected.

***

Halsin let go of Tav’s arm and took a moment to catch his breath. He had been in his bear form for days now, standing on two legs made him feel a little uneasy at the moment. The four strange adventurers in front of him had huddled close together, plotting their plan of attack on the goblin leaders.

His eyes wandered to Tav, who seemed to be their leader. A picture of elven beauty in his humble opinion. Her long white-blonde hair was tied back in a braid that was currently slung over one of her shoulders, several strands had worked their way out of the confines of the braid and swirled around her head. The long scar that ran over her nose and right cheek looked like it had been caused by a claw of some kind based on the shape of the edges. She had a rugged look to her, like she had been in the wilds long before she was abducted by mind flayers. But something was off. He listened as she strung together a plan with her companions, effortlessly doling out assignments and orders, commanding their attention despite their tired state. There was a noble air about her, but he hardly knew of any nobles who would prefer stomping around in the wilderness over the comforts of their estates.

Seeing her now, it was hard to believe their initial awkward encounter had happened. She seemed so confident and sure of herself talking with her companions. He wasn’t a stranger to others being caught off guard by his appearance. Given her own beauty he was surprised that she would have any trouble forming words of flattery. She seemed witty enough and happy to flirt back at the pale elf in her company. He would have assumed she had suitors lined up from here to Neverwinter, so why would he elicit such a flustered response from her? Regardless, he would be lying if he said he didn’t feel a slight pull in his chest looking at her. It had been quite some time since anyone looked at him with any kind of desire in their eyes. As for her awkward fumbling, he found it rather endearing. He pushed the thoughts away for now, he couldn’t allow himself to be distracted, not when he finally had a chance to correct so many of the mistakes from his past.

At some point while he was lost in his thoughts, Tav had summoned a large wolf to her side. The beast paced around her protectively, the smells in this wretched hideout were no doubt overwhelming to it. Halsin met its eyes, causing the wolf to freeze. He kept calm, careful not to startle it. Making a small lap around the others, it walked over to stand in front of him, still crouched in a protective stance.

“Lunari! Here girl!” Tav shouted.

Halsin carefully lowered his eyes, continuing to stand still. The wolf tentatively circled around him, sniffing around his legs. Seeming satisfied, she moved back over towards Tav and plopped down on her haunches in front of her, tail wagging slightly. Such a loyal creature, he thought to himself. Tav was absentmindedly scratching Lunari’s ears, causing her to lean against her legs and wag her tail faster. A friend of nature indeed.

Halsin thought back to Tav’s reaction to Moonrise. She had to know of the curse. When he looked into her eyes, he saw the same fear that had haunted his reflection for the last century. There were so few still alive who knew of that tragedy, let alone who had lived it. Now, it seemed that he may have found another who shared that burden.

“Okay, I think this gives us as good a chance as anything.” Tav’s voice rang through the room. “Anything to add?” Astarion’s hand shot up in the air, but Tav gave him a look that caused him to lower it again. She took a deep breath and motioned for them to head for the door. Halsin took the cue to wildshape back into his bear form. He padded up behind Tav, braced and ready to follow her into battle.

[ruewrites]

Song of a Mourning Dove

AO3

Ship: Solomon/Asmo

Word Count: 4402

Warnings: Smut

A/N: Promt: Love Affair

It's been a hot second my lovelies! Classes have been demolishing me this semester, but I'm happy I got the chance to participate in this collab! I had the fortune of doing the writing part in collabing with Vera (Instagram @Hanxmura)! Make sure to check out everyone's work for Asmo's birthday! I feel so fortunate to have gotten the chance to work alongside so many talented people 💗

https://twitter.com/OMCollabs/status/1658547871883595778?t=9cZcBBSMCHQlsrftxy738g&s=19 (Go check out the beautiful artwork my collab partner made as well as the other peices that everyone worked so hard on!)

Please enjoy!

Comments are appreciated 💗

A broken nest surrounded by shattered eggs laid hidden in the shadows of the alleyway. Scattered feathers were strewn about, the ruined beginnings of a start that had yet to flourish, forgotten to time as the rain washed away the sins of another. A single soul darted through the rain.

He didn’t understand why.

Hadn’t he loved her?

Hadn’t he given her everything? 

Yet he was the one called vile. 

Evil.

A Demon. 

She might as well have pierced his heart with a blade, that would have hurt less and ended his suffering quicker. Instead he was left wondering with little to reflect on. He felt like he was dying, and yet some higher power demanded that he march on despite one of his reasons for living being ripped away from him. 

It became difficult to distinguish what was his own tears and what was from the sky above. In the misty haze of water meeting the concrete, a single lonely light from an inn pierced through the gloomy night. 

He wasn’t going home, not tonight. He couldn’t bear to go home after what he had just experienced. He couldn’t deal with the chaos and calamity. Instead he was going to drown his sorrows until both her name and face were nothing but a faint memory in his mind, until her perfume left his senses and her hair was long forgotten from his touch. He would drink until he could finally move on to someone new, to when he could finally find comfort in the arms of a stranger.

****

A lonely dove fluttered down to where the tree cover met the meadow. It bobbed it’s head to one side and then the other before collecting  a few twigs in it’s beak and flapping back up to the tree cover, wings much more clumsy on take off. After all, it was easier to meet the ground than it was to leave it. The mourning dove disappeared, the cacophony of birds drowning out any song it would dare to sing this late in the morning.

The gentle summer breeze tickled Asmo's bare arms as the meadow flowers bent upwards. A quiet tiny town was tucked away in the distance, far away from the bustling busy life he was so accustomed to. It was serene, gorgeous, the type of place where you would live in a tiny cottage near the edge of town and walk to the bakery every morning. Every face was a recognizable one and a friend was always nearby. Asmo's eyes threatened to slip shut as he wandered deeper into his little daydream. 

"It would be the perfect place to start a life together with someone, don't you think?" Solomon was leaning over him now, head resting on his hand as he laid on his side, "I could have a garden in the backyard, maybe a few things to attract animals too. You would be just like a princess surrounded by all sorts of woodland creatures." 

Asmo hummed, raising an eyebrow and letting his eyes wander over to his boyfriend, "You talk as if Lucifer would let you keep me up here."

"I could steal you away," Solomon continued. He plucked one of the flowers scattered around them and twirled it between his fingers, eyes locked on the petals, "Like Persephone and Hades, I could steal you away."

The flower expanded in the sorcerer's hand and transformed into half of a pomegranate, "You don't even have to eat all the seeds."

"Solomon!" Asmo squealed as Solomon leaned closer to him, their lips barely brushing, "Lucifer would kill you." 

He couldn't help but whisper, as if his words were secrets even to the wind.

Solomon pulled away enough to scoop at the seeds with his tongue. The action alone made Asmo hold his breath and shudder. It was an offer, an invitation, promises for a future that could belong to him one day. He clutched at Solomon’s cloak, the only thing separating him from the earth below. Solomon had him surrounded, enveloped, and he was giving him an offer he couldn’t refuse. 

The pomegranate seeds lingered on his own tongue long after they disappeared, but Solomon tasted much sweeter.  They had shared thousands of kisses in the past, and yet ones like these always felt the most scandalous. The chaste ones, the ones where lips lingered just long enough and broke into smiles. They made Asmo blush like a virgin and hide his face in vain. The kiss had started heavy sure, but it evolved into something more, something that had Asmo feeling some type of way.  Thoughts that made him hasty and impulsive. Thoughts that he would still be safe within Solomon's presence.

Solomon's love tasted like whisky from a hazy Saturday night and smelt like the lingering smoke from the ghost of a fire. It lingered everywhere he touched Asmo, physically, mentally, and emotionally.

It was a lonely inn in the distance.

It was comfort.

It was home.

It asked Asmo to jump, and Asmo asked 'How high?'. 

It was a continuous burning, passionate but also safe and comfortable. It wasn't looking to consume him, but rather to light up his darkness, to keep him warm.

Asmo bit his lip as Solomon's cold hands ran over his back, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Asmo didn't remember sitting up, nor did he remember coming face to face with his lover, foreheads pressed together and the breath stolen from his lungs. Solomon leaned in for one more kiss.

"May I?" he whispered against his lips.

"Darling-"

"Please?"

Solomon kissed him again and brushed gentle touches along his spine, "I want to see all of you, no one will see."

Solomon continued to whisper his request. Asmo let his eyes drift shut as he gave in. His wings unfurled from his back, fluttering as the wind tickled their membranes. And then Solomon's fingers drifted across them.

"Beautiful."

Asmo pulled away from his lover's arms, smiling as Solomon chased his lips. "Explain to me how your hands are still cold out here when it’s so nice?” 

His wings fluttered before settling down in a comfortable position, “My wings have goosebumps on them.” 

He plucked a few flowers next to him. Fingers weaving on their own accord. Briefly, he caught the look on Solomon's face. His cheeks started to turn the most perfect shade of pink. Of course, Asmo was certain it was a reaction to the coy expression he shot Solomon's way before turning his attention to the flowers in his lap. Humming softly to himself, he folded the stems over each other. 

"That's why I have you to keep me warm," Solomon moved closer, wrapping his arms around Asmo's middle and leaning his chin on his shoulder. "You are my Eurydice, and I would follow you anywhere, even into the greatest dangers of them all."

"I think you just want to keep me as your heater."

"Can't it be both?"

Asmo let out a small trill as Solomon ran his hands up his sides, wings fluttering between their bodies. All throughout, his hands remained focused on weaving. Solomon's hands were as cold as ice, and yet they felt wonderful against his skin.  

"You're cute."

"And you make the cutest little noises."

"So do you when I get you in bed." 

Solomon choked as soon as the words left Asmo's mouth. 

Asmo allowed one hand to leave his little project in order for him to reach up and play with Solomon's hair before sliding a finger down the side of his face and down to his chin. He turned his head to the side and smiled against Solomon's lips. "Wouldn't that fit that perfect little idea of yours? Making love to me in a perfect little cottage in a perfect little town?"  

Allowing himself to take in the sight of Solomon's perfectly handsome reddening face, Asmo turned back to his little project and tied off the ends. Holding it up in the sunlight, he admired all of the tiny perfect flowers. His wings fluttered as a pleased little purr left his lips. 

 "Asmodeus-" 

"Shush," Asmo clicked his tongue and placed the flower crown on Solomon's head, "My king needs a crown." 

"You are unfair, you tease me so cruelly."

Turning around, Asmo cupped Solomon's frowning face, "But I am not too terribly cruel am I? I promise you'll get what I offered you." He leaned in and pressed another gentle kiss to his lips, thumbs running over Solomon's cheeks.

"I never deny you now, do I?"

"Not once ever."

Asmo was far from unfamiliar with sex by the time he became involved with Solomon. Even so, in the beginning their couplings had been a tiny bit clumsy, filled with shaking hands and nervous laughter. Fingers dancing across bodies, mapping every groove and valley to memorize over hours of contemplation. They had made the beginnings of their symphony together with small gasps and words of encouragement, where to direct hands, the most beautiful  moans, and tiny messes marking their union on the sheets below.

Sex with Solomon was an experience. It was breathtaking and adventurous no matter how it ended up playing out. Asmodeus was willing to do it however he wanted, because sex with Solomon was a chance to be close with someone he loved. Above all, Asmo felt loved when they engaged with each other.  Solomon was an attentive lover, a kind lover. His breath was always hot and shaky in Asmo’s ear. 

As he looked at him now, Asmo couldn’t help but catch the tiny sparks of desperation. He wanted him, craved him like nothing he had ever wanted before, and the feelings were more than mutual.

They tripped over their heels as they made their way out of the meadow, giggling and laughing through the town. It was a dance, a chase, and Asmo’s heart was racing. He couldn’t keep the smile from spreading across his face despite the number of people they almost crashed into. Asmo had almost forgotten to reinstate his glamor with the excitement that was racing through him. Their fast paced footsteps clicked against the cobblestone before coming to an abrupt halt in front of a tiny cottage as Solomon grabbed onto his wrist. 

“This one,” he nodded, fumbling with a little key in his pocket.

“You never had any intention of returning me home tonight did you?” 

Solomon grinned, a few small petals falling from the crown upon his head, “Now why would I return you before spring has come?”

Of course he would continue with his references of tales from old. 

The door clicked open and they were falling inside.

Falling…

And falling…

And falling…

Deeper…

And deeper…

And deeper…

Each kiss was breathtaking.

Each touch was a fire burning brighter.

The bed was only a suggestion, and one they somehow managed to take.

The only thought that remained in his mind was Solomon’s skin against his own and the way their hands fit together so perfectly.

His breath hitched as cold fingers traveled along his sensitive regions. Fangs dug into his lip as his head arched into the pillow. Solomon smiled at him before disappearing between his legs. 

Oh if those first few laps from his tongue didn't stroke a fire within Asmo's core. 

His thighs squished against his lover's face and his hands went to grab for his silver locks. But Solomon was quick as he lifted himself from his meal.

"I need room to work," he chuckled, pushing Asmo's thighs back down.

"And here I thought you were desperate to cum."

"I can't enjoy a snack?"

"Excuse you! I am at least a full course meal."

Solomon hummed and kissed his inner thigh, "That you are my Dear."

Instead of going back to where Asmo so desperately wanted him, Solomon continued to kiss and nip along his thigh, and down his leg, right to the tips of his toes.

Asmo gave him a small kick, not enough to hurt him, just enough to grab his attention, "Hello, Mr. Hot-and-Bothered, you've got me all hot and bothered back up here."

Solomon gestured towards his throbbing cock, standing proudly as attention between his legs, "You have had me like this, on and off, all week. I think you'll survive if I pamper you for a bit."

Now that was a word Asmo liked. 

He laid back down on the pillow and closed his eyes, enjoying the sensation of Solomon's lips as they passed over his skin. The way his fingertips played with the strip of highly maintained hair made him shudder. His glamor dropped once more now that there was no risk of being seen by others. He didn't need to cause that type of scene on what was supposed to be a romantic getaway. 

He could feel the shape of each hickey Solomon left on his inner thighs, how he would come close to where Asmo wanted him the most just to quickly evade him seconds later. He was throbbing, pulsing, and he wanted nothing more than to have Solomon inside him.

Asmo wiggled his hips and started to thread his fingers through Solomon's hair. He appreciated that Solomon enjoyed foreplay, but he was starting to get antsy.

"Do you want to feel my tongue light you ablaze My Queen?" 

Asmo shuddered. Solomon using his mother tongue was playing dirty. 

"I would rather feel your cock split me open." 

His own words fumbled a bit due to an unexpected, and particularly pleasurable, flick from Solomon's tongue against his most sensitive regions

"But I do love pleasuring you with my tongue," Solomon's hand ran up Asmo's stomach and his breath hitched, "It is pleasurable for me."

"Solomon-"

"But if you'd rather have my magic meat wand rearrange your insides-"

The speed at which Asmo grabbed a pillow and smacked Solomon over the head was almost unbelievable.

"Don't. Hide. Your. Terrible. Terrible. Words. Behind. A. Beautiful. Language!" 

Solomon cackled with each accented smack of the pillow to his form. 

"And yet you're still turned on."

"I will leave."

Solomon wrapped his arms around his hips and pressed kisses to his side. It was a plea to stay, knowing Asmo would never leave. Asmo tried to stay mad, he really did but when Solomon climbed up his side and caressed  his wings. He let out a tiny content trill  as Solomon reached the crook of his neck.

"Have you ever seen a magic cock crow?"

Asmo couldn't help but snort.

"Well I don't have that but I can show you how it spurts."

"Solomon!"

Asmo squealed, but his partner held him close.

"And I'm about to cock-a-doodle do you."

"You're not gonna cock-a-do anyone if you get me laughing too hard!"  

Solomon grinned and used his other hand to lift Asmo's leg slightly. 

"Then may my cock enter the hen house?"

Asmo hummed in thought. The squeal that left Solomon when Asmo grabbed his manhood filled him with nothing but pleasure. 

"You know, they also have cows with the hens too, so how about I milk you for all your worth?" Watching Solomon's face darken was all Asmo needed to know he had the reins again. "And they all have to breed too."

Solomon adored him no matter what form he took, and that was part of why Asmo adored him so much.

A hiss and a soft 'fuck' left Solomon's mouth as Asmo started to stroke him. He could feel his partner thrust up into his soft hand, the tip of his cock brushing against where Asmo wanted him the most. 

Asmo was in control.

He squeezed his partner's cock and brought it closer to his entrance, allowing Solomon to feel the warmth that could be enveloping him.

"So," Asmo pushed the head in a little further, "Make love to me?"

Asmo loved the way they felt when they were in union with each other. Solomon filled him in the most perfect way, his fluttering walls grabbing onto him and making his human moan.  

Milky legs wrapped around the sorcerer, controlling his movements and pulling him in deeper. Solomon was going at his pace, going in as deep as Asmo needed him to to reach all those wonderful spots that had him moaning.

Solomon was panting and whimpering in his ear and it was driving Asmo insane. He couldn't help but nip at Solomon's neck. If Solomon could leave hickeys on his thighs, then his neck was fair game. His fangs always brought shudders out of Solomon. 

His hips stuttered and Asmo squealed, back arching off of the mattress.

It was so domestic and hot. Asmo didn't realize two things could be true at once. Lucifer had expected him home, instead he was here, out past curfew and being one with the man he adored more than anything. 

The little jokes.

The laughter enhancing the pleasure.

Asmo just wanted to hold him close and stay joined with him forever. 

Solomon reached a hand between his legs and Asmo gasped.

"I want you to feel just as good as I do," Solomon breathed, switching to his mother tongue once more, "I want to feel you finish with me."

As if he needed to ask. Asmo tangled on hand into the back of his hair and gripped hard, their thrusts remained steady and precise. 

This was personal.

This was sacred.

Asmo felt loved.

Asmo felt secure.

A sharp gasp left his lips and his thighs tightened around Solomon. He could feel that lovely heat reaching its peak. It made him squirm under Solomon to a point where it was his human’s turn to steady him. That lovely pace was becoming agonizing in terms of speed, and he let Solomon know with little nips to his shoulder. On one hand he wanted to reach his orgasm, but on the other hand-

Solomon’s hand sped up along with his thrusts, but only slightly. 

Tears started to prick at his eyes as an overwhelming feeling consumed him. It came out of nowhere, smacked into him like a freight train, and became more powerful the closer he came to his orgasm.

“I love you. I love you so much,” Asmo’s words came out softly, softer than he realized what his voice was capable of. Solomon met his gaze and that was when he lost it. It took him a moment to realize that Solomon was also crying, and through the tears there was laughter. There still wasn’t a name for that feeling, but it was mutual and Asmodeus adored it. 

Soon after, Asmo finally felt himself tilt over the edge, an airy moan pouring out of his pretty lips. Solomon was soon after, Asmo’s fluttering insides driving him over the edge. With a groan Solomon emptied himself inside of him, giving a few more thrusts before slowing to a stop.

They remained connected, enjoying the feeling of being connected, being one. Asmo squeezed, fearing that if he let him go that Solomon would disappear forever, that he would wake up only to discover that all of this had been nothing but a dream. 

No words passed between them. Instead their lips met in a gentle embrace furthering their connection. 

“I love you too.”

****

The light he woke up to was the first sign. He had never made it back home to the Devildom. A mourning dove sang its haunting melody from outside the window. He took in the room for the first time. It was cozy, small, and had the most intricate wooden trimming Asmo had ever seen. The sheets were a soft pale blue, he almost would have mistaken it for a gray. They were cool, a perfect contrast to how hot he had felt last night. From somewhere in the room amongst scattered clothing, he heard his phone buzz. He didn’t need to look at the screen to know  Lucifer had sent him an inconceivable number of text messages. He would certainly be in for a rather long lecture upon his return. 

And he wouldn’t be the only one. 

An arm made its way around his middle.

“Stay with me.”

Asmo twisted so that their lips could meet. Solomon was an eager kisser, always one to chase lips and seek out physical affection in private. He was an adorable man, and he was his adorable man. Asmo was smiling into the kiss. What he wouldn’t give to stay in this moment, to stay with his human.

“Lucifer is going to kill you, and lock me in my room for the next millenia,” Asmo whispered in between kisses.

“Then stay. Stay where he can’t reach you.”

“You know I can’t do that,” Asmo pressed one last lingering kiss to his lips before tracing his hand over his cheek, “He’s my family and I love him.”

Solomon’s face fell as he pulled Asmo’s hand to his lips. There was a certain sadness in his eyes that broke Asmo’s heart. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to stay, he did, but he also didn’t want to leave his brothers worried especially not Lucifer.

“Then I shall just follow you.”

Solomon smiled against his skin, “For I am no better than Paris, and I would follow you anywhere, even if it meant certain disaster.”

“You stop that.”

Solomon seemed stunned at his words, eyes wide and staring at Asmo who’s brows were furrowed and dawned a rather serious expression on his face. 

“You keep comparing us to tragedies. I don’t like that.”

“They’re all considered love stories Asmodeus.”

“I know, but are any of them happy? Did any of them end up happy? Don’t they all involve some sort of depressing something or other-?”

Solomon snorted, “Depressing something or other-?”

“Well it’s true!” Asmo stood fast in what he did, “Paris died and Helen married some asshole, Orpheus couldn’t save Eurydice, and Hades and Persephone can only see each other for six months out of the year like some weird divorced couple where they don’t want to be divorced but they’re like forced to be. And I don’t want any of that to be us. I actually want this to go well.”

His face softened and tears pricked at his eyes once more as he stared deep into Solomon’s soul, “You are, without a doubt, one of the best things that has ever happened to me Solomon, this is one of the healthiest things that I have ever had. I can’t lose you, because if I do-”

Solomon shushed him and held him close, letting Asmo listen to the steady drum of his heartbeat.

“I see what you mean, I want this to last too Asmodeus. You are an absolute delight and a beautiful shining light in my life,” he hesitated for a moment, biting his lip, debating whether he would actually decide to speak into existence the desires the ran through his mind, “I would- I would very much enjoy if this could be my life with you one day. To come home to your arms every day would be bliss for me.”

Asmo looked up at him. He was so nervous. It was rare to see his witty sorcerer squirm like he was now. He had borne something so vulnerable to him, and now it was completely in Asmo’s hands. 

“One day,” Asmo promised quietly, “I would love to make our little house-play permanent, and one day we will. I’m not the one you need to convince.” 

Lucifer would not take it well if Asmo dropped that he was moving in with a man he was less than fond of. He would take it even worse if he received the news over text with Asmo already moved in. Asmo liked Solomon in tact and would prefer it if he weren’t strewn into tiny pieces all over the House of Lamentation. 

The grin on Solomon’s face could light up the entirety of the Devildom and Asmo could only squeal as he was bombarded with a flurry of kisses. The laugh Solomon let out was beyond joyous, and it was contagious.

“Then I am going to do my absolute best to convince him, so that we can have our perfect little cottage on the end of town,” Solomon promised, “And then we can start a perfect little life together. Until then, do you think you could stay for a while longer? I’m not quite done playing house with you, even if it’s just for a little while longer.”

Asmo thought briefly about all the notifications on his phone, about what could possibly await him for when he eventually had to return home. It would no doubt ruin the perfect mood that he was currently swimming in. But oh the look on Solomon’s face. He was nothing but an adorable puppy in Solomon’s eyes, a puppy that he simply couldn’t ignore. 

What harm could exist in staying just a little longer? 

It would be wonderful practice for his future.

“I could see myself staying for a little while longer, especially if I get to continue to enjoy my time with you.”

Solomon’s excitement was palpable. A trill left somewhere from the back of Asmo’s throat as he was scooped up and carried out to the kitchen. He couldn’t help but admire his Solomon, the charm of his smile, the strong shape of his jawline, the pact marks that littered his body.

This could really be his life one day couldn’t it?

Mornings spent naked without the slightest ounce of sexual intent, forehead kisses while they waited for coffee and tea to brew, chilly mornings outside the cottage quietly curled up together as they sipped on their cups. Steam rising into the air as the sun cast light on the first tiny drops of morning dew on the grass beneath their feet.  Wild flowers hung haphazardly in their hair, plucked from the ground without a word and stuck wherever they would stay. 

This life was his.

One day, he would spend all of his mornings like this. 

Loved.

Content.

Cared for.

All the while, the mourning dove continued to sing, and hidden somewhere in the trees with a nest and a solitary egg. Soon a second one joined. A simple call and response between two lifelong partners haunting the quiet morning with their lingering melody carried in the light breeze that was traveling through, content with each other, and hidden from the rest of the world. 

[decimalpointed]

Steddie Soulmate Mark AU Prompt(w/ trans Eddie)

I want one of those soulmate AUs where people have like moving animal tattoos to represent their other half. They start off as baby animals and grow as their soulmate grows. And their tattoos are able to move onto their soulmates skin through touch and thats why shaking hands is important to tell if the animal will go onto the others skin.

And Steve is born and he thinks he has this little black snake that is his soulmate. Its cute and loves to dance along his shoulders and curl around his neck like a necklace. His parents tell him that snakes mean his soulmate is gonna be a little ruthless, a little cold blooded, but a lot determined.

As he reaches puberty though the snake unfurls and low and behold is actually a little wyvern dragon that has kept its wings and legs curled tight to its body through adolescence. It's horns start to grow into a beautiful curled crown on its head and it's scales remain all black except on the underside of its wings where there are spatterings of white, pink, and blue scales that look like stars against the dark.

But mythical creature marks come with a lot of superstitious belief like his soulmate will be crazy or a murderer or something along those lines. That his soulmate just isn't right.

His parents are pissed when they see it, and tell him he is better off without his soulmate because people represented by fantasy creatures are just going to be trouble for him.

And so Steve sleeps around and becomes a king among teenagers but he still secretly loves his little dragon. Knows his soulmate is beautiful and majestic and ignores when anyone jeers at him that he has a some crazy girl out there waiting for him in an asylum.

His dragon likes to show off and be seen, no matter how much he gets teased for having it, and will splay out on his chest with wings spread to preen any time he has his shirt off. The dragon likes to puff fire and smoke out whenever his soulmate is angry, and will curl around his heart when his soulmate is sad. Steve loves his dragon and even though they have a bad reputation, the other kids love it because its different.

When he learns monsters are very much real, he thinks that if someone is really bad then their mark would surely be a demagorgon. Ugly and vile and terrifying. It solidifies in his mind that his dragon can't possibly be what all the books say.

He thinks for sure Nancy has to be his dragon. She's fiery, determined, beautiful. She's not and the little bird she has won't go onto his skin and his dragon wants nothing to do with Nancy in turn. He is disappointed but falls in love with her all the same. His heart still gets broken when she tells him its all bullshit.

He thinks Robin too might be his dragon. She's smart, funny, playful. But then Russians drug them and she's sure as hell not into men when she shows him her own mark which is very clearly a female lion. He gets a Best friend and she tells him that she thinks his dragon is beautiful and so the person it belongs to has a beautiful soul.

But then Steve gets to thinking, because he's never seen someone with an animal so clearly the same gender as they are like Robin and her lioness. Hes only ever known people around him with the opposite like Carol and her male peacock for Tommy. He doesn't even know how to tell if his dragon is a boy or a girl and that confuses him more because he never even thought to look at boys and try to imagine them as his dragon. Wonders if maybe he should start.

Then In a boathouse scared for his life and with a bottle pressed against his throat, his beautiful dragon curls around his neck and then slides so easily across his skin onto Eddie Munsons hand.

Turns out his dragon doesn't mean anything bad or awful, it just means Eddie wasn't really born in the right body but his soul is represented just the way it was supposed to be. Magical and loud and beautiful.

Steve's soul animal could be whatever but I always figured he would be like a golden retriever. Because I mean. Look at that boy. And Eddie would be so confused that he got just such an ordinary animal because there's no way he would ever end up with a golden retriever boyfriend right?

[afeb]

Draco Malfoy - Ravishing

I walked out the Yule Ball early, a sickening feeling growing in my stomach as couples began to slow dance. It simply reminded I’d come here solo off the back of Hermiones advice: fat lot of good that was.

I wandered the empty halls of the castle, taking my heels off and walking bare foot. I watched as Draco, also alone, turned the corner ahead of me. I decided to follow him, having nothing better to do. I turned the same corner and frowned as he seemed to have disappeared.

“Follow me, Y/L/N?” I jumped as I peered behind a large black curtain, seeing Draco sat on a stone bench by himself.

I moved to sit across from him. “Better than being at that ball.” I sighed. “Where’s Pan?”

He shrugged. “Went off with some Slytherin.” He bitterly said. “Where was your date?”

“Didn’t have one.”

He scoffed and smirked. “Really?”

I frowned and folded my arms. “What’s so funny about that?”

He raised his hands. “Not funny, I’m just surprised.” He defended.

“Oh...” I sighed. “Well, thanks I guess.”

He leant back a little as his eyes trailed over me. “So what’s your ancestry?” He asked.

I frowned. “Why does that matter?”

He shrugged. “Just wondering.” He drawled out, when I didn’t reply he asked again.

“Just...witches and wizards, like everyone else.” I vaguely replied.

“So no muggles?” I shook my head. “So you’re a pure-blood?”

I scrunched my nose. “Don’t use that word.”

“What, muggles?” He smirked.

“No.” I snapped. “The P-Word.”

“Pure-blood.” He said loudly. I simply glared at him. “You know, you and I should really stick together.”

“And why’s that?” I asked.

“There aren’t many pure-blood families around anymore, everyone these days has some muggle in them.” He bitterly said. “How come I never knew? My family knows all pure-bloods.”

I stood and went to leave, finished with this conversation but Draco followed me. “My family aren’t like yours, we aren’t proud of our heritage.” I shortly said, heading towards the Ravenclaw home room.

Draco shoved his hands in his pockets. “They should be.” He said. “So you keep it a secret then?”

“As best I can.” I said as we stood outside the Ravenclaw painting.

He gazed at the portrait. “You’re not in Slytherin?” He asked.

I scoffed. “God no.”

He looked mildly offended before a smirked graced his face. “Well, I’ll leave you alone then.” He leant a little closer. “You look ravishing tonight by the way.”

Before I could respond Draco turned and cockily strolled away.

***

“I’m home!” I called into the house as I dumped my suitcase on the floor. “Hello?”

I walked into the kitchen where my mother and father were deep in conversation. “Ah, just the girl I wanted to see.” My father smiled as he enveloped me in a hug.

I chuckled and squeezed him tight. “What were you guys talking about?” I asked as I hugged my mother.

“This.” She handed me a letter.

Dear the Y/L/N Family,

You are cordially invited to the Malfoy Mannor for lunch on the 20th of December.

Please RSVP before attending.

Yours sincerely,

Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy

I frowned down at it. “Well obviously we aren’t going.” My mother and father shared a look. “You aren’t seriously thinking about going.”

My mother stood by my side. “Your father seems to think he can convert them to our way.” She sighed. “I don’t.”

My father looked at both of us. “Look, we made a decision to incorporate the muggles way into our life, we said Y/N could see muggles if she wished. If our family can do it, maybe they can too.”

“Do you know anything about the Malfoys?” I asked. “They’re vile people.”

My father looked sternly at us both. “We’re going, end of.”

Both mine and my mothers mouths dropped. “I’m not being nice.” I said.

My father smiled and kissed my forehead. “I don’t want you to be.” He smirked before leaving the room.

***

Our carriage pulled up to the Malfoy Mannor, the family patiently stood on their doorstep. I rolled my eyes and looked over at my mother, who was doing exactly the same thing.

“If for nothing else, enjoy the food.” My father winced before opening the door and helping us out.

“Mr. Y/L/N,” Lucius opened his arms. “A pleasure to meet you!”

“And you.” My father curtly said.

They shook hands before the attention turned to my mother and I. “Are these beautiful ladies with you?” I wanted to gag.

“Yes, this is my wife, Y/M/N, and this is my daughter, Y/N.” I didn’t take the hand that was offered to me.

“Pleasure.” I shorty said, my eyes flicking to Draco as he held back a smirk.

“Please, come in.”

You wouldn’t believe Christmas was in five days. The house was dark and cold, no decorations what so ever apart from a feeble Christmas tree in their large living room. It was far too big and grandiose, it was cocky.

We were all soon seated around the table, an excessive amount of food laid out on the table. The servants placed napkins on our laps.

“Thank you.” I smiled brightly at the older lady.

“We don’t thank the help.” Lucius politely said.

“I do.” I innocently smiled back.

I saw Lucius fists ball for a second before he tightly smiled. I didn’t have too much food, more so pushed it around my plate to appear as though I was eating. My father and Lucius spoke about everything from politics to Hogwarts. Nacissa attempted to speak to my mother, but much like me my mother either ignored her or didn’t make an effort in the conversation.

Thankfully Draco didn’t speak to me, simply stared into space. “Draco,” his father said. “Why don’t you show the lovely Y/N around our house whilst we discuss other matters.”

“Yes father.” Draco said before standing, beckoning me after him.

I looked towards my mother who smiled encouraging, her eyes telling me to convince Draco of our ways. My father smiled brightly as I left the room, Draco leaning against the wall in the hallway. He perked up when he saw me.

“The lovely Y/N.” He mocked, offering me his elbow to hold.

I slapped him away. “Get on with it then.” I grumbled.

We didn’t speak as we wandered the house, ending up in the library upstairs. I gazed around the books as Draco watched me closely.

“You like reading?” He asked.

“Oh yes,” I sighed. “I love books. Any type, it doesn’t matter to me.” I turned to smile at him.

He stood and approached me, I grew a little uncomfortable as he reached over from behind me, his chest brushing my back. “This is my favourite.”

He pulled a small book from the shelf. “Tales of Beedle and the Bard.” I smiled. “My mother always read this to me.”

Draco smiled down at me. “I had a Nanny growing up and she always read me stories.”

We gazed at each other for a moment. “No muggle books, I see.” I noted, stepping away and looking out the window.

Draco scoffed. “Why an earth would we have those?”

I shrugged. “Some of them are good.” I defended, opening the small book in my hand and reading over it. “There’s an author called Terry Pratchet and he comes up with the most amazing stor-“

“I don’t care.” Draco snapped. “Whatever it is, it’s terrible. Everything they do is terrible.”

“And everything you do is so great?” I snapped, slamming the book down.

“All those muggles do is start wars and mate, they’re hardly intelligent creatures.” He sneered as he stepped towards me.

I scoffed. “What about the war You-Know-Who is starting, and how do you think you were born?”

He peered down at me. “At least our mating is clean and right, they’re just like animals.”

Our faces were close together. “I’d happily mate with them.”

Suddenly Draco grabbed my jaw and pressed me against the tall window. “Don’t say that.” He snapped. “Someone as pure as you shouldn’t even consider mating with such filth.”

My small hand tried to pry him away, but he was too strong. “Why does that bother you? Hm?” I glared.

His eyes flicked down to my lips. “Because I want to fuck you.”

Before I could utter a word his lips were harshly pressed to mine, body rubbing against me. I attempted to push him away but Draco stayed put. He was good, too good. I slowly ran my hands through his hair, his evil smirk forming against my lips.

“Knew you wanted me.” He jeered, lips pressing down my neck. “You’ve always wanted me.”

I gasped as he bit my neck, sucking the sensitive flesh. “Draco.” I breathed out, rolling my hips up against his.

“Want it, little girl?” He taunted. He quickly spun me around, hand immediately palming my behind. “You can have it.”

His hands went to the hem of my skirt, pulling it up and over my ass and groaning as he saw my green underwear. “Like you knew I was going to fuck you.” He sighed before moving my underwear to the side and sinking his fingers into me. “So wet.”

I moaned deeply and pawed behind me, grabbing a fistful of his shirt. His fingers came to my mouth as I tasted myself from him. “Taste that? So sweet I could drizzle you on my breakfast.” Draco breathed.

He quickly pulled himself out, easing his tip into me before harshly grabbing my hips and thrusting into me. “You always wanted this, didn’t you?” He moaned into my ear. “Wanted my cum inside you, no one else’s.”

“Yes.” I agreed, throwing my head back against his shoulder as he kissed over my neck.

“No muggle could make you feel this good.” He promised. “No muggle could make you cum on his cock the way I do.”

“No, only you.” I agreed, my hand gripping his hair tightly as he moaned again.

“Fuck, I wanna see you filled with my cum.” He confessed. “I wanna see you carrying my child, knowing that it was my clean cum that got you pregnant.”

“Ah, fuck!” I wailed out, jumping as his hand came to cover my mouth.

“Shut up,” he snapped. “Your daddy has high hopes of you fucking some muggle, how disappointed he’d be knowing his little girl is getting pregnant from me.” He sneered.

I moaned into his hand. His arm circled around and began to rub small but harsh circles into my clit, groaning as I clenched around him. “You gonna come, Sweet Thing?”

I nodded frantically. “Good, cum for me.” My moans were muffled by his hand as I clamped around him, my pussy spasming as he forced an orgasm from me.

His hand dropped from my mouth as he wrapped his arms around me, pulling my body flush against his. “Cum inside me.” I whined out. “Please.”

“Fucking hell, gonna paint your womb with my cum.” He promised as his hips stilled and hot ropes of cum came inside me. “Fuck.” He leant against me, kissing over my cheek and neck.

He pulled out, watching as the cum leaked from me. He sighed and pulled my skirt down, turning me around. His hand softly cupped my face as he leant in and sweetly kissed me.

“Don’t clean yourself up,” he smirked. “I want to know you’re walking around with my cum inside you.”

I bit my lip and nodded. “We should get back.”

His hand gripped mine as he led the way back to the dining room, letting go of me once he heard our fathers yelling at each other. We entered the room and my mother quickly pulled me away from Draco.

“Y/N, thank god, we’re leaving.” She spat at Narcissa.

“And another thing, language like mudblood and pure-blood are so outed it’s laughable!” My father yelled.

“At least I don’t want my off-spring mating with dirty genes.” Lucius snapped.

“The only dirty genes are yours.” My father retorted. “Thank you for dinner, the chicken was overcooked.”

My father grabbed mine and my mother’s hand, pulling us past Draco who simply smirked and winked at me.

Once in the carriage my father ranted and raved about the idiocy he’d just been in the presence of, my mother quickly making her distain for them known.

“What about the boy?” My father asked. “Was he any better?”

I shook my head. “Baffoon.” I said.

That wasn’t totally true.

[gryffindors-weasley]

Unexpected

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Summary: Draco is met with something unexpected one morning, something that changes his life for the better.

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: mentions of the dark mark, angst, mentions of the war, anxiety, scars, fluff, kissing

Draco was sat peacefully on the back patio of your shared cottage, looking at the beauteous rolling hills just beyond the backyard and the vibrant flowers clustered all around the house. A fog had settled in the early dawn hours, blanketing everything in a cloudy haze. He was having his usual tea as he so often did when he had the chance. Though he usually liked to spend his free mornings wrapped up in your embrace, not that it was really an option because you always had a tough time letting him go. But he had been an early riser and he felt compelled to enjoy the quiet Sunday morning outside.

This hour was always the most peaceful, the only sound having been the doves cooing and the breeze blowing through leaves. Though as much as he loved the tranquility, he hated it all the same when his mind sat in silence for too long because it inevitably lead him astray. Everything came to haunt him eventually if he let himself be alone, it always does. It’s gotten better with time, though the war was still too fresh, everything was still too new for things to not creep up on him. In those moments when he felt he had enough, he’d come to you and things would lessen.

It was when he was sitting out there that morning that it had happened. A cat, fur colored with splotches and stripes of gray and black and white, had nonchalantly walked out from the blooming row of hydrangeas along the cozy home. It startled him immediately, nearly causing the hot tea to spill over the edge of his mug and onto his hand.

He uttered a soft curse into the air, any traces of sleep disappearing from his body as he watched the animal with a cautious glare. He was never really fond of cats, having never forgotten being swatted at harshly by Filch’s, followed by a very unfriendly hiss. Though he will admit it was almost certainly because he’d been taunting the poor feline. It was definitely the cause. Regardless, he hadn’t taken to them very well but was fortunate enough to keep from crossing paths with any, until now that is.

It inched closer to him, far closer than his liking and he found himself sitting a little straighter in his chair, scooting back a bit as if the action would help his cause.

“No, off you go,” Draco shoos softly, gesturing for it to go somewhere else, anywhere else but there.

The cat had of course paid him no mind as it wound up at his feet, making figure-eights as it wove around his ankles and walked right overtop his bare feet. Every few moments it’d stop its movements and rub its whiskered face against his leg, sniffing him a bit as if to see if Draco had been a threat or not. Though he had thought the small creature was rather threatening. He’d fought in a wizarding war just seven years ago, he even had the most excruciating dark magic inflicted upon him to the brink of death, yet he feels this rather small cat just might be the death of him. Even more so at its next move.

The cat effortlessly leaps up onto his lap without a care in the world and a small gasp leaves his lips, his arms raising higher as the plump little animal leaves muddy paw prints on his pajama pants. He’s tense as the very tips of its hooked claws poke his thighs, but he makes no attempts to shoo it away this time. It’s a rather uncomfortable feeling, but he feels it’d be far worse if he tries to usher the animal off his lap, so he stays put much to his dismay.

“You’re rather bold, aren’t you?” He mutters softly, still cautiously stiff but not nearly as much as moments before.

It looks up at him at the sound of his voice, round green eyes seemingly sparkling up into his. Then, without warning, the cat nudges it’s pink nose against Draco’s. The action was abrupt and rather forceful, the friendly gesture smushing the tip of his nose and nearly causing his tea to spill over the ceramic edge again. He sets down the mug all together by that point, feeling another soft nudge to his cheek when he turns his head away briefly.

It was purring, that had to have been a good sign, right?

The remaining tension was starting to dissipate from his body as he realized the animal was rather fond of him. At least it seemed to be. A small smile pulled at his lips as he ran the tips of his fingers between its ears gently and hesitantly, the cat leaning into his touch almost instantly and pressing it’s paws on his bare chest to brush against him some more.

“You are bold. Quite like my girlfriend,” he chuckles, thinking fondly of you curled up in bed inside the house. A few minutes ago he’d been just short of petrified, and now he’s found himself talking to an animal that has absolutely no idea what he was even saying.

It settles back into his lap, perched on his thigh as it’s attention was promptly pulled to his arm, almost drawn to it. The small creature sniffed at the mark forever imprinted on his pale skin, one he’d rather not look at ever again if it were possible. He felt it had been bad enough that his chest was riddled with pale pink scars from a fateful encounter in his sixth year. In one way or another, there was always going to be something that would serve as a permanent reminder of his past decisions. They’ve faded considerably over the last few years, even the mark, having been inactive and weaker with the Dark Lord gone. He’s grateful for that, for its appearance to be less harsh and hard, he’d been grateful that it’s constant burning had since gone away. But regardless, it still remained and it still taunted him every time he spared a glance. He swears he can feel it from time to time.

It’s still one of his biggest regrets, one he nearly lost you over in more ways than one. You had almost left before he’d had a chance to explain himself, and even then you were wary. He didn’t blame you, it was perhaps one of the most vile things to be associated with in the wizarding world. But the conflict swirling around his every decision, the fear behind every confident string of words he spoke, was very evident. And you couldn’t bring yourself to abandon him.

That’s the very reason he’d almost lost you once more. Your unwillingness to let the war conclude with him on the wrong side of that ruined courtyard proved to be one of the most dangerous things you could have done. It had showcased his true vulnerability for the entirety of the school to see as he quietly pleaded for you to stop speaking against the Dark Lord, to stop being so brave for just this once. But you hadn’t, you were unwavering and it had just barely worked out for the better. If he let his mind wander too far into what could have happened to you, the churning in his stomach would surely have made him sick.

His thoughts had been interrupted by a hiss, causing him to tense once more at the unfriendly sound. The cat had been focused on the swirling mark still, it’s back arched and ears pointed back defensively.

“I don’t like it either,” he sighs, turning his arm over in quiet humiliation.

At the sound of his voice, the feline’s attention is stolen completely, visibly relaxing once more as its soft purrs sounded again.

He had the nagging feeling to go inside and find his way back to you, if only to make sure you’d still been there. He felt it was the only thing that could ease his mind at that point because he wasn’t able to clear his head on his own any more. So, he carefully nudged the cat and it promptly hopped off his lap much to his surprise. However, the curious gaze was something he’d expected.

With a glance behind him, it had been quick to follow after his strides, taking two steps for every one Draco had taken to reach the back door.

“You can’t come inside,” he chuckles, though his words didn’t mean a single thing as the splotchy cat nearly pushed its way right between his ankles to do so. “Maybe some other time, alright?”

And with that, he closed the door behind him and set off to find you.

—

“Dray?” You call out curiously, turning to find him already seated at the small kitchen table.

He hummed into his mug tiredly as he took a sip of his morning coffee, and you took a seat on the edge of the wooden tabletop. A smile was tugging at your lips as you looked at him and he raised a curious brow.

“You wouldn’t happen to know why there’d be cat treats in the cupboard, would you?” You ask, arms crossed over your chest after you set the small bag down.

“I don’t believe I would,” he answers, hiding his smile behind another sip lengthy of his drink, though you didn’t miss the way the very tips of his ears burned pink as he eyed the bag. It was more than noticeable against pale shade his hair.

You squint at him in disbelief as you nod, amusement lacing your features and he knew in that very moment you wouldn’t let this go. So he sighed, resting his chin in his palm as he tried to remain stoic. If only for the sake of his own future embarrassment.

“You’re a terrible liar, you know,” you laugh, running your fingers through the tangles of platinum dipping down over his forehead.

“I most certainly am not,” he argues. He may have been good at being deceptive with anyone else in the world, but with you, he didn’t stand a chance. He never did.

“I suppose this means a stranger has left a bowl of last nights dinner on the patio then,” you quip with a smirk, standing to your feet and turning to walk towards the back door.

A warm hand was quick to envelope your own and whisk you back into his chest with ease, a soft smile playing on his lips. Lips that press to yours sweetly in a valiant effort to pull your attention from your current curiosity to him instead. He thought it just might have been working when you settled you arms around his neck and relaxed against him, quieting you for a moment.

His kisses continued to the corner of your mouth, pressing sweetly to your flushed cheek and he couldn’t help but smile against your skin as he held you closer. You knew just what he’d been up to with this, he wasn’t terribly difficult to figure out, but you could let yourself bask in his affections for just a minute more. Or maybe two. A soft bout of laughter fell from your lips when his own had brushed over the underside of your jaw, a spot he knew all too well and the jovial sound made a warmth bloom across his chest. Perhaps he knew exactly what he was doing, but his attempts to distract you seemed to have had its hold on him more so than they had you.

“Draco,” you murmur, stifling your giggles as he lifts his head and looks at you briefly, breathlessly. You lean on your toes and find his lips once more, tasting his coffee and more prominently the cream and sugar, his soft laugh evident against your mouth as he melts into you. You always have that effect on him whether he admits it or not. “Nice try.”

He’s too caught up in a blissful daze to keep you from slipping out of his arms, leaving him to stare after you with kiss swollen lips and a racing heart as you skip to the back door. He soon comes to his senses, however, but he’s a moment too late as he watches you step outside the door.

“Darling wai—”

He cuts himself short at the sight of the portly little cat seated contently on the cracked stone patio, more so at the taunting smile you’d given him. One that softens when your gaze returns to the tricolored cat nudging it’s adorably fluffy face against your hand.

“I…I’ve never seen her,” he sputters as he scratches the back of his neck, internally kicking himself because how could he know that if he’d never seen her. His statement was further disproved when the friendly feline pauses her actions in favor of falling at Draco’s feet. It was his voice. The very sound of his voice never failed to capture her attention at any given moment.

She stares up at him expectantly with big green eyes, pupils dilating at the sight of the beloved owner she had so carefully chosen. He couldn’t deny the way his heart melted, or the soft smile fighting desperately to pull at his lips.

“What’s her name?”

“Pearl.”

His response was spoken without a lick of hesitancy and he’s quick to realize his mistake, eyes widening and cheeks flushing a pale scarlet. No amount of sweet talking or loving kisses could get him out of that one. He huffs out a sigh and bites the inside of his cheek as you laugh softly, a triumphant smile on your face and you cross your arms over your chest.

Eyes fluttering closed, he sighs softly and allows his shoulders to slump in his obvious defeat. Now the love of his life had the means to tease endlessly him over this, and he knew you’d take the opportunity with open arms. When he opens them again your smile is soft, and he feels the sweet creature looping around his feet again in hopes of gaining his affections. For that, he’s quick to bend over and scoop her up, and she assumes her rightful position in the crook of his arm. Her eyes fall closed in a matter of moments now, soft purrs escaping her as his thumb brushes along her face tenderly. He could deal with the pesky white fur clinging to his navy sweater later.

Your heart flutters in your chest at the precious sight, and you didn’t have it in you to tease him about it quite yet. That could wait. For now all you wanted to do was gaze at your love, who’d been cradling quite possibly the cutest cat you had ever seen. It was a sight you never expected to see, not after Crookshanks clawed him fiercely, and not after Filch’s cat had spat a hiss at him. You could have sworn he’d stay at least ten feet from the nearest fanged creature. But you supposed you were wrong in the best of ways.

“Can we keep her?” He asks softly after a while, blinking at you with pleading gray eyes.

There hadn’t been anything to think over at that point, not with the way she nestled into him with a certain familiarity that was too sweet to break. It was clear that Draco had grown attached, and she must have meant something to him because he’d never been keen on them, or any animal for that matter. It hadn’t been a question when he dipped down and planted a soft kiss on her head. Or at the sight of the blush pink bowls stolen from the kitchen cabinets, always full of food and water for the last two weeks. You’ve caught sight of the pudgy little animal in the gardens, and she’s undeniably sweet. It seems as though your answer was very clear.

“Of course we can,” you smile, and his mouth hangs agape as he looks up at you once more, almost in disbelief. “What? You couldn’t possibly think I’d say no, could you?”

The smile on his face is nothing short of adoring as he takes a moment to process your response. With careful movements, he sets Pearl down on the cushion of one of the lawn chairs gingerly much to her dismay, but she quickly lets it pass as she curls up with a yawn. He crosses the gap between the two of you in no more than two strides, taking your face in his hands before pressing his lips on yours. His tamed excitement had poured into every brush of his lips, one hand dropping from your cheek to snake around your waist and press you closer to him.

Draco wasn’t one to be outwardly expressive of his excitement, preferring to hold it in for fear of it being stolen from him if he lets it show. But it was easy to tell he’d been struggling to contain such a feeling, his kiss and loving embrace sending you stumbling backwards a step or two. He nearly swept you off your feet. He parted from your lips with the softest of grins, kissing you once, twice, three more times before a content sigh fans warmly across your lips.

“I love you, you know,” he nearly whispers, tucking your hair behind your ear as his eyes bounce between yours with sincerity.

You smile brightly, bumping his nose with your own as you find his lips again. Of course you knew. He might not have spoken it aloud as often as he felt like he should’ve, and when he did it was ever so quiet just for you to hear. But his actions always spoke louder than words. His kisses always assured you of such, not that you needed convincing.

“I do happen to know,” you breathe against his lips, laughing softly at the way they chased yours for more. “I love you, Draco.”

The moment of bliss within your own little world was soon interrupted by the softest of meows, little spotted paws standing firmly on Draco’s shoe. He let out a laugh and swept her up, her nose pressing to his cheek in an affectionate nudge. He found himself lucky to have not one, but two things to love, and they’re just as fond of him.

Draco doesn’t know how he’d deserved such a thing, but he’s promised himself to never let go of this unexpected joy.

—

Tags: @theweasleysredhair @dracosaurusrex @amourtentiaa @hahee154hq

[advwithgeneral1855]

The General Locomotive with his Friend the Texas and his love Turtledove

I was built in 1855. I worked hauling freight and passengers from Atlanta to Chattanooga. We were the first engines the WARR and Northern Georgia knew. We were fabulous machines. Flying down rails through open pastures and towns, blowing smoke haughtily and pounding the rails with all our might. People would come from miles away to hear our shrill whistle and listen to our song. "Look at me. Look at me. Must be fast. Must be fast. Come along. Come along. Must be fast." Rushing through the beautiful Georgian country-side was a thrill. I loved watching birds and butterflies. Sometimes a jack-rabbit or a coyote would race me down the track. The beautiful fields and blooming flowers made an engine glad to be alive. As we would steam down. the track we would see cows, donkeys, mules pulling carts and horses pulling carriages. We would look at those creatures and scoff. "Useless creatures. We can pull far heavier loads faster. Your days are numbered." Unlike many of the younger engines, we replaced horses and mules not older and out of date locomotives. Often our arrogance would manifest whe. passing through a town or stopping at a station. We would see a beast of burden and wheesh steam at them often startling them. Sometimes they would run away and hurt the humans who cared for them. I remember once I scared a horse pulling a wagon so bad he ran into a smiths shop. The fire from the forge spread to the hay in the stable and burned down a house. the guilt and remorse I felt was incredible. I realized that I would never act so foolishly again. Any further hard feelings I could harbor would be eternally squelched on August 11, 1856. A wagon of cotton bales had caught a wheel on the track outside big shanty. It was a blind curve and by the time I rounded the bend it was too late. Uhhh.. I still shudder to think of the accident and the fate of that poor animal. I need not divulge gory details, but I then gained my first understanding of life and mortality. I arrived at Moons Station a much wiser engine.

Yonah was sitting in the siding for me to pass. He quickly picked up on my mood and asked what happened. He was very sympathetic and kind, even though we always argued over who was stronger and faster. He told me to talk to Florida, that Florida had a similar accident before. I told Yonah that I couldn't because I had been so vile to him and the other engines. To my great surprise he retorted, "Tis all in good jest, my young friend. All in jest. Florida and I bantered much the same when we built this line. Just speak to him." That night when I reached Chattanooga, there was Florida. "Why the long face there General? After all, you're only 2 hours late. I thought you were the fastest and more reliable than us antique kettles." I said nothing, just sat looking at my cow catcher. Florida stopped smirking and gave me the most deep, cutting, terrifying stare. He looked deep in my smoke box door and down my tubes- he saw into my soul you could say. His expression softened a little. We spoke no more for a few minutes. The late night passenger and mail train was being loaded. Florida broke the silence in his booming grandfather voice. "Something happened to you today, didn't it?" I said nothing, just looked down. "My dear engine, you have me starting to worry," he insisted. "Yonah said you'd understand, that I should talk to you," I mustered. "Talk to me about what?" Florida asked. "He said you had an accident like mine, with a horse," I explained. He let out a slow wheesh and only said "oh." We sat there a few more minutes. "They're almost done loading," Florida began. "But I want to say that, 'Yes', I have. It was when we were building the tunnel. There were a lot of workman, wagons, horses, mules, equipment, tools, and things." He paused dramatically. "During the blasting, I dropped off some rails and ties and was dragging back some of the rock and soil when the workers set off a charge of dynamite. One of the horses was scared and charged towards the rails. The engineer was helping us back onto the gondolas and when the blast went off he looked away. My driver misunderstood the signal and opened the throttle. My driver saw the blast and some rocks falling and accidently opened the throttle all the way. That poor horse had charged between my flatbed and the gondolas. It was a few seconds before they stopped me and then realized what happened to that poor horse."

As Florida became quiet I gasped in horror and disbelief. I saw his eyes narrow and his boiler became cold. I started to ask him more about the horse when he spoke. "Much worse happened on the railway building the line, but the guilt I carry stays with me. They say that what happened wasn't my fault, and it was all in the name of progress, but those experiences still leave scars in my firebox. Maybe that why I've always been such a contentious old goat to young yungins." He looked at me softly. "Well," I spoke. "I'm sorry I've been an arrogant boastful brat." He grinned and laughed. "You should have heard me when I was a new engine!" he exclaimed. "Or... maybe its best you don't. Embarrassing stories those." I smiled. My boiler had never felt so warm and my fire never burned as bright as it did that night. Florida set off with his train and I settled down to rest up for the morning

[bitchassbucky]

.eps (explicit)

Word Count: 2k

Warning/s: dark!bucky x dark!reader, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, blood mention, gore and dismemberment/beheading, murder, toxic/abusive relationship dynamics, sedation/drugging/use of sedative, stockholm syndrome-ish, one very special character reveal

A/N: i told y'all there's more <3 the special character treat is for @sarge-barnes-sir mwah!

this is queued shdhhsh gonna fix the links in the mornin’

PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS ABOVE, IF YOU DON'T WANT TO READ THIS VERSION, GO AND CHECK OUT THE NON-EXPLICIT VERSION.

follow the CTRL series:

i - .exe

ii - .avi

iii - .raw

iv - .png

v - .zip

CTRL playlist CTRL moodboard

Safeness, comfortability, warmth are all but a false sense of reality.

When a prey takes down its walls, the predator moves in. Camouflaged in familiar colors, in words that you’re used to hearing, in praises, in lies. Most predators use the mask of the night to move in darkness—unyielding and calculated. Come morning, there will be only one left alive, tainted with victory and bloodshed.

You and Bucky have been engaging in a dance for two—a battle of who’s willing to take the leap of faith and unleash hell upon the other.

Stifled smiles and pursed lips.

The air is filled with unsaid irritants, little things that ticked away like bombs.

There was no time for pleading, no time for mercy, no rest for the wicked.

Did you still love each other?

How far are you willing to go to keep up with his… complacency?

Bucky’s mundane life already taking a toll on you. The endless nightmares of him feeling you. The swirling vision of Bucky being with you every waking—and sleeping—moment: it grates your soul to shreds.

“We’ll be together forever, right?”

“Yes, darling.”

“What about the day after forever?”

“That too, honey.”

Where was the man you loved so deeply? The man that broke his morals just to be with you?

Was he under this hull of a Yes Man? A poor little thing that says ‘yes’ to everything like a puppy.

The man you held so dearly now slipping away, chipping his humanity, shedding the once-human.

“Would you marry me tomorrow if I asked you?”

“Of course, baby, why wouldn’t I?”

“Would you kill for me?”

“I’m meant to do the same for you.”

It’s irritating how Bucky gave up too quickly. Too fast, moving too fast. The gazelle let the lion tear its neck as it lay there, unmoving, letting the blood seep into its hide.

When you first met Bucky, it was your own fairytale unfolding before your eyes. Kismet, reality, forgiveness from above. He was soft and shy, passionate, lively.

Far from what you expected from a man his age—you blame Steve for forcing you into his narrative before. That all men are out to get you. They will hurt you. They will use you and leave you for good. But Bucky? Bucky came in like a knight. He saved you from the carcass of your past. He saved you from the sins that you prayed and knelt for.

Bucky taught you how to love.

Bucky taught you how to live for yourself.

Bucky taught you that being alone doesn’t mean you have to be lonely.

“It was an unspoken little thing, wasn’t it?”

“What thing, baby?”

“Our love.”

“Yes, honey, it was.”

He worships you.

He worships you like a fucking God and you hate it.

Suffocating, too suffocating. You dove straight for the water and now you’re drowning.

Do you still love each other? The question hangs in the air, heavy with its weight, light as a feather.

It’s all your fault. It’s all your fault. It’s all your fault. It’s all your fault.

So you stand there with a syringe half-filled with a horse sedative. It’s a concern how easy it is to waltz into a pet store and pick up a general anesthetic. You make a mental note to look at it later.

Bucky’s body slumps forward, his forehead meeting the edge of the table with a dull thud. If the overdose doesn’t kill him, the weeping crack in his head will.

Holy fuck, humans bleed a lot. And fast. Good thing you already have that clear tarp taped down. Even with the hush money stuffed down your throat, it would take a good nick to regrout the kitchen.

“What is that for, honey?”

“I’m painting the cabinets.”

“Okay, darling.”

So you let him bleed, surprised that the liquid is redder than what you thought it would be. A soft gurgling noise came from Bucky, the last of air escaping his dead body. You stood there, syringe in hand, as you thought how to dispose of a six-foot-tall man without arousing suspicion.

Not that he’ll be missed anyway: the local news and the internet already branded him as a psycho and you as a victim. You were both victims in this fairytale. They reported his case as “skipped the town like the sicko he is.” So, no—no one’s going to look for him.

The sun was high up in the sky and there was a dead body in your kitchen.

A butcher and a surgeon walks into a bar for a drink. “What do you do for a living?” Said the butcher, “I save lives! What about you?” The doctor answers. “I save animals from dying slowly. We’re basically the same. You’re just very clean.” You see, the butcher comes into the bar covered in blood, reeking of death. The surgeon, on the other hand, wears his white coat with pride even though he’s surrounded by death every passing second.

Today was the day you learned that you have the tools of a butcher and the precision of a surgeon. Unlike before.

You carefully take Bucky’s fingers off of his left hand, leaving a skin flap on the edge of the last knuckle for you to stitch close later. Four promises. Four goddamn promises and he broke all of them.

It was his fault that he’s dead. He made you do this.

Starting with his left shoulder, you jab the knife between the bone and the soft flesh of his armpit, bringing the blade downwards. The sickening smell of blood swirled along with the image of muscle and fat being sliced made you gag.

Does the brain know that it’s seeing something it shouldn’t?

A rational part of you wanted to look away but the time is ticking, it’ll be much harder once rigor mortis sets in an hour.

You swing the knife down, cracking the bone once, and then again, and again, and again until the shoulder bone splinters and dislocates itself from the rest of Bucky’s torso. You had to switch knives and blades and a fucking bone saw to get through the rest of his limbs, leaving only his chest, head, and stomach untouched. After taping up and packing the arms and the legs, you work on putting the rest of Bucky into a nondescript suitcase.

The only problem being his head getting into the way of things.

Wanting to preserve even a shred of his dignity, you left his face untouched. Well, save from the crack in his skull.

You begrudgingly take a hefty chef’s knife and start cutting through the jugular vein, only stopping when the blade hits the spinal cord by his nape. The serrated blade of the bone saw sits on your blood-soaked gloves, scrape-scrape-scraping until it snaps into two.

The human head weighs around 10 pounds, kinda like a bowling ball.

An opaque black garbage bag containing Bucky’s head looks nothing suspicious as you put it inside a backpack—into a firepit you go.

His limbs—arms and legs alike—are going deep into the ocean, forgotten and to be used as fish food.

The limbless torso will be finding its home in a deep hole in the middle of a densely wooded area, far from the city.

But you’re not quite sure what to do with the mason jar of teeth though; the clinking noises of it remind you of the seashells you used to collect when you were a kid. Maybe you’ll stash it away with the torso.

Placing the bags into the trunk of a rental, you begin your journey to the end of your fairytale.

The drive to and from the places was tiring, to say the least. The internet connection of the diners was spotty at best. Locals were overly friendly with the city folks who came passing through their towns. The roads reek of roadkill and manure from the farm animals that were left to roam for fresh grass.

At least you get to come home in a spotless apartment, alone once again.

But not lonely.

Your space is yours again. No trace of anyone anywhere. Immaculately yours.

—

Humans are social creatures.

No one can truly be alone, especially in today’s world where we’re connected to everyone—whether we liked it or not.

Leaving your wretched job behind was an easy feat to do. No one can say no to the victim of such a vile crime. That’s all they saw you: a helpless little thing. So off you went; saying half-assed goodbyes and sending emails of courage and hope and fucking resilience.

Your resignation meant that the company’s free of any dirt from you, Bucky’s disappearance quickly becoming a joke and a rumor blending in one.

They let you leave: in your bank account a fat check ensuring that you’d shut up about the scandal for months until you can’t feed yourself no more. So you packed your bags and jet off without looking back. You never liked that apartment anyway.

Nevertheless, you found yourself looking into another dead-end job in one of the towns you stopped over before. It’s a charming place like time froze in their plaza while the rest of the world went on. You found a small studio apartment in a street tuckered away from the main avenue, you settled there as days became nights and nights turned into days.

You woke up one morning craving a healthy serving of coffee and pancakes, luckily the town’s local diner wasn’t far from your new home.

The coffee was too hot, the pancakes were amazing, fluffy, and just right. You’re sitting in a sunny booth, the warmth doing its wonders.

“Hi, can I get today’s paper, please?” Your voice is sweet as you call your server, giving her a quick smile.

A pair of Raybans adorn your face, unconsciously hiding behind its darkened glasses. The waitress gives you a thick stack of newspapers, refilling your cup with black coffee.

Upon opening the paper, you ignore the town’s headlines and went straight for the job postings. The door jingled open as patrons come in and go, waving to familiar faces.

Job Vacancy Announcements

Secretary to the Town Sheriff

You skimmed over the rest of the details, only noting the address of the office. The job looks quite lucrative for someone who would only take messages and organize files for the sheriff.

Looking over the job posting again, you read over the words walk-ins only. That shouldn’t be hard enough.

The diner looked deserted save from the man sitting behind your booth. Leaning over and tapping his shoulder, you put on a polite smile, “Hi, sorry, do you know how to get to the sheriff’s office from here?”

“Hello, darling.” The man croons in an accent, he looks over to you, “join me in my booth, will ‘ya?”

You’re in no position to reject his proposal, you’re the one who needed an answer.

Taking your coffee cup, you slide into his booth, “hi.”

“Just the face I wanted to see.” Clean-shaven, a hint of mint and smoke, and something woody; a worn leather jacket and white button-up shirt hugging his soft frame. “Some folks over on the apartment complex were talkin’ about a city girl wanting to rent a studio all by herself. That happen to be you?”

You look over to him, trying to understand how that small of news spread like a wildfire, “yeah. I moved in a week ago.”

He leans over, smiling sweetly as he unabashedly lets his eyes roam your features, “What’s a city girl like you doin’ in a place like this? I hope we ain’t too boring for you, gal.”

Chatty—he’s way too chatty.

“Just wanted a change of pace, really. Away from the bustle of the city.” You rustle the paper, clearing your throat to get back on the matter on hand, “so the sheriff’s office? Is it too far from here?”

“What business are ‘ya bringing into the office?”

“A job, actually. Says here that they’re looking for a secretary.” You might as well tell him everything, he seems too chatty to be dismissed over and over again.

“Well, darlin’, today’s your lucky day. No need to drive down the old road.” He reaches down to his seat, pulling up a brown hat, “Hi, I’m Sheriff Bodecker. Now, to whom do I owe the pleasure?”

You bite back a giggle, you’ve always wanted to be involved with the law.

[happyfunf3tti]

 I’ve always wanted an excuse to talk about Stitch because ever since I was little I always thought "He’s a cute little alien that does funny things!” But I realized as I get older, I start to appreciate his character more. For the longest time he’s always been my favorite Disney character along with Lilo. So I thought I’d finally go into detail about why I love him so much.

From the start, Stitch was created with one purpose only: to destroy. We first see him visibly licking and pounding against the glass. He also snarls at the other aliens. Because of this everyone viewed him as a vile creature. However, the Grandcouncil Woman insists on giving him a chance to see if he can prove himself to not be as disobedient as he’s revealed. He responds by swearing in his native language Tantalog (given how the aliens react). This whole scene alone establishes his character as rude and nasty.

So they lock him to the ceiling to make sure he does not escape. Since the blasters are connected to his blood every little movement that Stitch does causes the blasters to track him. So he cleverly uses his saliva to make an escape.

He then steals one of the cruisers and transports himself to Earth. Once he reaches the planet, he's incredibly curious about his surroundings but once it starts raining the first thing he does is try and shoot it. Why? Because it's all tied to his programming. It's the only thing he does. He even tries to attack a frog (which he later tries to protect due to a growing fondness for other creatures). He also sees three trucks which he also attempts to attack but immediately gets run over.

Stitch gets sent to an animal shelter and notices the other dogs around him. Not knowing what they are, he growls and attempts to blast them not realizing that he doesn’t have his blasters. He crawls out but sees Dr. Jumba and Pleakley looking for him. He then has the idea of disguising himself as a dog. I love how Stitch doesn’t even attempt to act like a normal dog such as saying “Hiiii” to Lilo when she says hello to him. 

From this point on, he repeatedly uses them as a shield, not really caring for them. Even when Lilo shows small displays of affection towards Stitch, he quickly brushes it off. It’s all his act to blend in. But as time goes on, Stitch’s friendship with Lilo starts to grow and he starts to have a change of heart.

She teaches him how to be more civil and prove others that he’s truly a good person. It sadly backfires due to his destructive nature interfering because that’s all Stitch was created to be....a monster.

”That’s us before...it was rainy, and they went for a drive. What happened to yours? I hear you cry at night. Do you dream about them? I know that’s why you wreck things and push me.”

He immediately starts to feel bad when others get mad with him for the things he does. All he wants is a sense of purpose and belonging. And nowhere is that scene better shown in the scene where he remembers the book that he showed Lilo: The Ugly Duckling. This book is crucial for Stitch’s identity because it perfectly represents who he is. Like Lilo, he’s an outcast who is shunned by others for who they are. Lilo openly admits to him that the only thing left of her family is she and her sister he could be apart of it. Which is the very thing that Stitch wants.

Once he starts growing a personality of his own, he starts to have a crisis about his purpose. As evidenced by this line of dialogue:

“Don’t make me shoot you. You were expensive. Yes. Yes, that’s it. Come quietly.”

“ Mm…waiting.”

 “For what?”

 “Family.”

 “Ah! You don’t have one. I made you.”

“Oh.... maybe I could...”

“You’re built to destroy. You can never belong.” Here, Jumba bluntly tells him that due to his aggressive nature no one would ever accept him. But by the end much to his and everyone else’s surprise, Stitch shows how kind-hearted he really is. Even the Grand Councilwoman is genuinely surprised at how much Stitch has changed from the last time she saw him. She briefly hoped that he isn’t as bad as everyone else believes him to be but it quickly changes when Stitch shows no sign of empathy during Jumba’s trial.

“YOU! YOU'RE THE CAUSE OF ALL THIS! IF IT WASN'T FOR YOUR EXPERIMENT 626! NONE OF THIS-”  “Stitch!”

“What?”

 “My name Stitch.” “Stitch, then. If it wasn't for Stitch- [realizes what just happened, turns back to Stitch]

“Does Stitch have to go in the ship?”

  [shocked, hesitant] ...Yes.”

“Can Stitch say goodbye?”    “Yes.”

“Thank you.”

This....this scene really does show that he really how much he’s grown. From an aggressive and monstrous to a sweet natured and compassionate little guy. It’s all because Nani and Lilo have taught him the importance of Ohana. Caring for others and doing what ever it takes to protect them. Families go through rough things but will always come together at the end. Something Stitch will forever take to heart. 

[oven-thermometer]

Darksiders week Day II

Day 2: Shipping - Any rating (so long as nsfw works are tagged properly!) and any trope, so long as it involves shipping. Please note that a ship does not have to be canon (i.e. presented as a ship in the existing material) to count–in some other reality, they could have loved each other. Also, I hear human survivors have been reported by the Hellguard, so feel free to bring your OCs as well!

This is my first time writing anything with an OC, I'm happy it was Aurora because I love her so much. Also I know it's day 3 today but I didn't get to post yesterday and my work gave me the day off??? For some reason?? So I get to post today :>

What Aurora looks like and her different forms It helps to just check this post out to make the story easier to read

Warnings: blood, fighting, angst, lying, description of bad wounds, animal harm (by demons) and death.

The large golden doors swung open violently, slamming into the adjacent walls. Darkness in the hallway was chased away by the piercing light from Hell’s eternal fires raging across it’s plains. Taking her hands off from the doors, her hung head lifted up slowly. Her eyes caught the large throne situated at the end of the hallway, it’s impending presence making her swallow the invisible lump in her throat. ‘At least he’s not here.’ She thought, making her way down the dimly lit hallway, the candles burning to life as she walked past.

“Aurora.” her name was called in a monotone voice. Turning her head, she located the voice at one of the side doors next to the throne. Emerging from said door, was her mother. The woman that constructed her and made her into what she was today. She held neither malice nor love towards her. She had been made into a monster but she never knew the proper way to be treated by someone you were made by so she really had no point of reference. Coming out of her musings she walked further towards the woman. “Lilith.” she said, nodding her head in greeting.

Lilith sauntered closer, stopping in front of the taller creature. Aurora shifted her legs, waiting for her to speak. Lilith hummed and narrowed her eyes before quickly turning around. “You have a new mission. This one pertains quite importantly to the grand plan Samael and I have,” turning half her body to look over her shoulder she made clear eye contact with Aurora, “success is the only outcome that will be accepted. Are we clear?”

Lilith punctuated her last words by closing her fists, reminding Aurora of he last time she hobbled back into Samael’s castle with defeat written all over her wounded body. Shuddering slightly at the thought, she nodded. Lilith turned fully towards the throne again and stepped towards it. Picking up a small scroll of decaying paper from the stone and opening it, she spoke again, “You are to travel to Earth.”

Aurora looked up, her long ears perking up at the name, “Earth? Why there?”

Lilith slid her tail along the floor, signifying her annoyance at the question. Aurora looked back down and mumbled an apology. Lilith drew her shoulders back and closed the scroll once again, “The apocalypse will soon be triggered, Earth will become the battleground for monumental forces. You will travel there and, using your human-form, you will find the horseman that will be sent to find the cause of the trigger.”

Aurora shifted on her legs again, she hated being in her human form. It meant she had to lie. She could deal with the killing and the war but lying and infiltrating made her stomach turn. Deceit was what came with that form.

Pushing her feelings down, she held one of her hands out for the scroll Lilith was holding. Lilith left it in her outstretched hand, making her way back to the side door before adding, “You must seduce him Aurora. You’ve done this kind of thing before and I have complete faith you won’t disappoint me.”

Aurora nodded again, her eyes scanning the contents of the page for more details. “Oh and Aurora, bring him to that location before the third torch atop of this castle is blown out by the dry winds.”

Blood curdling screams replaced the quiet alleyways with sheer terror. Stepping out of the void portal Aurora took cautious steps further out of the alleyway – more screams making her turn her head towards the impeding invasion of demons from a large tear in the Earth. Large orange lava spewed from the enormous crack as demons screeched and hollered from rooftops and street lamps.

Aurora sneered from her place in the alleyway, she may be part demon but this was never who she was. Innocent humans were being torn apart right in front of her and all she could do was look on for the being she was meant to trick into her plans. She had never met any of the Nephelim, even before their demise due to four of their own. Everyone knew the story, even her. She felt sorry for the remaining four, they had been forced to murder their entire family and proceeded to work for the very beasts who bargained with their lives. Lilith also spoke of them often, cursing the four mostly. That was why Aurora was made, so that one day the spawn of angel and demon might continue.

Shaking her head, she returned to her search. Spotting another large tear and a large trail of fire and smoke further into the streets of the city she identified the crash site of the warrior. She swiftly brushed off her clothes, stopping midway as she realized she had to look dirty and beaten for him to take pity on her. Sighing, she threw her head back in sarcastic amusement.

Aurora had made her way from the alleyway towards a building used as a parking lot across the road. Smears of blood and bodily fluid littered the floor, the faint noise of muffled grunts off to one corner caught her attention. A man, a human, was being pinned to the wall as a pack of small demons overpowered him and took their opportunity to rip the scared features from his face. As the life left his eyes and his last whine of pain escaped, his head lolled forwards. Stopping in her tracks, Aurora’s face held no emotion. Seeing this as her opportunity to gain the injuries she required, she started attracting the group over from their feast. She stomped her feet and shouted at them to gain their attention. “Hey you stupid mongrels,” she put her hands on her hips and gave a low whistle, “how’s the invasion going dimwits?”

The mindless demons quirked their heads at her - they could smell that she wasn’t human, but she didn’t look supernatural. Snapping out of their daze, as if acting with a hive mind, they snarled and charged violently forwards towards her. Aurora lifted her forearms to act as guards, awaiting the attack.

Her breath felt like it was made of lead. Her arms and legs covered in bruises, welts and scratches. The vicious pain of her combined wounds made her head dizzy as she leaned against one of the concrete walls. Slouching forward she slid down slowly to sit down on the cold floor. Her mind was blank. Only focusing on keeping her healing magic at bay so as not to erase the work the now squashed demons did. As soon as she was content with how much damage they did, Aurora began her offense. Making quick work of them, she needed a moment before venturing out of the building again. She wiped the blood pooling on her chin, the viscous material flowing freely from her nose and mouth due to broken cartilage and cracked teeth.

A small scratching noise caught her attention, lifting her head she looked towards the cars sitting in their lots. It was coming from there, she was sure. It only got louder, a pitiful whining shortly accompanying it. Was it…another human? The demons would’ve killed them before though, or were they sparing them to witness the torture? If it was a person she would need to make sure they won’t get out of this alive: they could’ve seen her use her powers after all.

She stalked closer to the collection of crashed and parked cars, broken glass and more blood breaking beneath her boots. The whining and scratching continued to increase in volume, making her cock her head to the side in confusion. A thin tarp laden with dust and dirt covered the small opening between two cars that had evidently been in a bad crash. Aurora could now also hear deep and scratchy breathing – similar to her own. The whining seemed one akin to an animal, this only deepened her confusion. Lifting the tarp she readied an attack spell in her flesh hand, but what met her eyes gave her pause. A large, white hound met her vision. It’s thick fur stained with it’s own blood. It was slightly smaller than the Hell Hounds that she was used to. Awkwardly shifting again, she pulled more of the material away and threw it behind her. The dog’s labored breathing and flowing wounds made her heart ache – humans had minds, and some of them were vile beings. But, animals and beasts with no sentient choices only wanted peace. They never deserved whatever terrible treatment they got – quickly realizing Aurora made her think of her own situation, she shook her head and lowered herself to her knees. Banishing the attack spell she replaced it with her healing magic.

As she healed the creature she thought to herself, ‘Was that man your owner?’ She didn’t dwell on that thought either.

It’s breathing improved and it’s gashes closed, but it remained unconscious out of exhaustion after her magic had stopped. Sighing, Aurora questioned why she even did this. It was going to get found again. It may be almost as big as a Hell Hound, but it clearly couldn’t fight as well.

Again, another noise drew her attention away from the situation. A large crash near the entrance to the building made her quickly clamber to her feet. ‘More demons??’ she thought, exasperated. But, it was no demon. In fact, it was the one being she needed on this hellish mission.

War’s voice boomed, calling after the pathetic demons that had run from their battle. “Scum!” he shouted, “I saw you running in here with your tail between your legs, come out for a merciful decimation!” ‘Geez, he isn’t one for pleasantries, huh?’ Aurora thought to herself. Swiftly slipping into her role, she began limping her way away from the cars – although the limp wasn’t fake.

Accidentally tripping on a large piece of fallen concrete, her hands automatically came up to cushion her fall. Her metal limb creating a sharp noise against the floor caused her to cringe.

Stopping his intimidating rant, War looked over to the small human. His stony features showed no shock or confusion of any kind. Not any emotion at all. Aurora gave a small grunt, quickly getting to her knees before her eyes landed on the impressive height of War. Scrambling backwards, her face showed a feeling of utter fear. Her mouth hung open as she raised an arm in mock defense, her bionic arm. War’s eyes flashed a light of pity before turning back to their normal cloudy blue. “P-Please..Don’t - hurt me.” Aurora kept her widened eyes on him, showing nothing but the want to live another minute.

War turned fully to her form, acknowledging her wounds, her tired eyes and how she didn’t even seem to have the strength to stand. Forgetting the beasts he was chasing, he wracked his brain for what to do. He had a mission, a purpose – but this, thing, looked so helpless and in desperate need of help. Walking the short distance towards her, he took a healing potion out of his supply belt and set it down in front of her. “Use it.” Is all he said before leaving the building, and Aurora. Rearing her head back in confusion, she lowered her arm and tsked in annoyance. Grabbing the large container of green liquid, she ran as fast as her bleeding legs could take her after the Nephilim. He wasn’t going particularly fast, his normal walking pace, but to Aurora’s state it was difficult to catch up with.

“Wait!” she called out after him. War stopped and looked back at her over his shoulder. Huffing, Aurora got closer and looked up to him, “Are you just gonna leave me here?!”

It was War’s turn to be confused, not visibly though, “Excuse me?” Motioning to her wounds as she spoke, Aurora replied, “Well I am arguably not in the best of states and seeing as you obviously don’t want to kill me, could you at least escort me to a safe place?”

Aurora’s heartbeat roared in her ears, she couldn’t believe she was talking this way to a Horseman. But she needed some way of being near him. War grunted, turning his head back to look onward, “Move quickly, I will take you to the angels.”

Smiling to herself, Aurora followed closely behind as he made his way towards a horde of angels a few blocks away.

[astringofmadhousefloozies]

Horse Friends

Yuu runs into Epel and gets an offer worth taking. Contains coarse language, discussions of masculinity/femininity and a fierce case of foot-in-mouth disease. Check my Twisted Wonderland Fanfiction tag for more, let me know if you enjoyed it, and if you ever want to let me know what you liked? Please do.

~*~*~*~

You like most creatures. Anything that deserves a pet should get one if they want it. So, you'd thought to yourself, let's go pet something you don't get to see every day. That's how you found yourself kicking around the edge of the horse pasture, watching majestic beasts eat and fart and amiably ignore your existence.

"You like them?"

You turned, and saw Epel had come up beside you.

"They're pretty cool. Not something I'm around much."

He nodded. "Wanna see a really big one?"

~*~*~*~

Did the barn smell bad or just like a barn? You couldn't tell, you didn't get to spend time in them and had no frame of reference. Where did they put the waste? You were thinking of asking where they buried the dead ones so you could go hunting with a shovel later when Epel came through the door, with the most fuckoff huge animal you've ever seen in your life. It was so tall you wondered if you could stand under it; a soft dapple grey, with long feathered fetlocks and a mane that reached past it's knees. It had to duck to get through the doorway, and stood, blinking, when Epel stopped, nevermind that this thing could probably swallow him whole if it had half a mind to.

"Are you sure it's not a kelpie?"

He laughed. "Ain't drowned anyone! 's nothing but a big guy. He's friendly! He's the one we use to teach riding."

You tentatively walked over and offered a hand. You did like horses - you really did! But they were very big, this one especially, and were deeply antsy despite being able to trample things easily. The last think you wanted was it to smell your nervousness and freak out.

It simply bypassed your hand, and instead nosed at your face with it's snout.

"He likes you!"

"I like him too." You prrbted his nose while he sniffed at you. "He got a name?"

"Beans."

"No!"

"Yes! Really."

"I can't believe Vil would let that slide."

"Yeah well, Beans was here first." Epel looked back and forth between you. "You want to try riding him? He's very gentle."

"Not today. But I'll take you up on that."

~*~*~*~

"Pull back to stop!"

You pulled back on the reins, and Beans stopped, and then started to back up.

"Nope, too much!"

You eased your grip and he stopped, flicking his ear an an errant fly.

This was the third time Epel had you up on the horse, and the first time he actually let you have the reins instead of simply leading you around. You weren't in a state of panic whenever the beast under you did something unexpected (though you jumped every time he or another horse whinnied; the sound drilled through your ears into the back if your skull in the worst way). The whole thing was pretty fun! Even if your legs got sore from straddling something as big around as you were tall.

Epel moved easily around on his own horse, a delicate-looking white stallion with murder in his heart, clearly a perfect pair. In the little bit of hanging out you'd done, you'd learned a few things about him:

- He hated being called cute. He was, which made it worse, but being treated as something precious drove him nuts.

- He was, by natural inclination, a rough and tumble farm boy. You knew more about motorbi- no, magical wheels than you ever had in your life, and now knew some truly vile curses that sounded wonderful coming out of his mouth.

- He really liked hanging out with someone he didn't have to pretend elegance around; which you had a feeling was part of why he started giving you private lessons. You were many things, but paragon of grace and propriety you were not.

Remembering what he told you, you lightly flicked the reins, and Beans started forward at a sedate pace. 

"There you go!" Epel beamed at you, and you reflected your own smile back at him.

~*~*~*~

Today, he seemed sour, and you could not understand why, so instead of gong in to greet the horses, you stopped and asked what crawled up his ass and died.

"Nothin' you'd know 'bout."

"Try me."

He stood there glowering, until he finally said, "Am I girlier than you?"

You had to stop and really consider that. "Who started on that one?"

"Some asshole. They said you're manlier than I'll ever be."

You snorted. "That's like, a matter of opinion. I'm kinda butch, sure, but what it is is that femininity is... it requires effort." You moved your hands, in an effort to grasp the words. "It takes effort to put on makeup, or shave your legs. Stuff like that is required to be seen as feminine if you're a girl. Neither of which you do? You're not feminine, really. You're young and pretty. And pretty was never exclusive to girls."

This did not seem to help, so you continued digging. "And you're real pretty, Epel. Combine that with being real young, it makes you cute to others, but like... give it a few years. Yeah. You get a little older and lose the young babyface. You'll still be pretty, but you won't be read as cute, not the way everyone reads you now."

All of his sullen fury was now clearly at you.

"I'm sorry dude. I don't know how to use my words right. But I sure as hell ain't more of a dude than you. Because you actually are one."

He still stood there, and you thought of something to lighten the mood. "Did you kick his ass?"

He finally cracked a smile. "Thoroughly."

"Good. You want to do this today, or do you wanna just vent at me over people being assholes?"

He thought for a moment. "The second one, but don't say anything 'til I say so. You suck at making me feel better."

You nod and give an okay sign, which got a snicker out of him.

~*~*~*~

"And he says I shouldn't lift weights! 'oooh Epel, it'll ruin the lines', Vil can fuck right off and choke on mangey pig cock, he hasn't missed a day of lifting for eight years unless he was too sick to get out of bed." 

You nodded, petting Lucius. He'd seen the both of you out on the grass and wandered over to play with people who were friendly, but not desperate.

"He's all Pomefiore ideals this and that and AUUUGH. I wanna stick a fork up his ass and beat down the doors of Savannahclaw until they let me change dorms."

You raised a finger, and he nodded. "But they don't do dorm changes."

"They do not and I hate it so fucking much." He flopped onto the grass, and you offered a hand that he high-fived. "It sucks. They wouldn't even move me when I went to beat Vil's ass when I first got sorted."

"You what."

"I did! Only got a swing in before he beat me down, but I tried." 

"Please say there's a recording of this."

"He cursed every electronic in a hundred-foot radius just to make sure no one had footage."

"Boo."

He nodded. "That could have made all the money."

You nodded, until Lucius caught your eye and you swatted at Epel to get him to watch. Lucius, crawling through the grass, crept, sprung... and walked back over with a headless lizard, the missing piece long down his gullet.

"Finish it up, Lucius."

Lucius, his play done, walked away, leaving you both with the corpse.

"Gross. Should we bury it?"

"Maybe." The gears are turning, and you instead fetch back a grumbling Lucius. "Epel. What is this?"

He raised an eyebrow. "A fat old cat?"

You held up the irritated cat with a smile. "This is, pound for pound, the most efficient land predator on the planet. I know of cats that have single handedly eradicated entire species. Cats are eight pounds of asskicking. They will fu-OW" You dropped Lucius and checked the welling scratches on your arm. "Cats will fuck you up. But cats are also fluffy and cute and like to be cuddled. They're elegant and lovely, silly and playful. The murder and the cute is inherent to the cat."

He frowned. "Where are you going with this."

"I'm saying you're basically a cat."

He was silent for a beat. "Thanks, I hate it."

"How much?"

"Enh." He wiggled his hand. "I get what you're trying to say, at least. As long as you don't run around calling me that I’m good."

"A cat?"

"No, other C word."

Your brain drew the only conclusion you could think of. "A cunt?"

He let out the ugliest laugh you'd ever heard, and things were good.

[onthemeander]

ACOTAR Review

I have to start off by just mentioning that this book was heavily suggested to me. I only ever heard praise of the plot, characters, and the romantic message at its core. I feel this needs to be brought up because it was the fuel for the utter frustration I felt while reading this book. A frustration at my core that drove me to write my first ever review, so thanks for that.

Let’s start with the Pros of this book.

It is an easy read. I can inhale 300 pages in only two days. It is a good relaxing read if that’s what you are looking for. The kind of book you can curl up with on a rainy Sunday and just pass the free time if you're burned out on binging Netflix.

Okay, that’s it for the Pros. Now onto the Cons.

This book, a loose reimagining of Beauty and the Beast, feels like it has been written by a 50 shades of grey fan who hates Disney princess movies because the princesses are not “tough” enough. This novel comes off as the edgy version of a fantasy world that wants to include all the dark sides of life but doesn’t want to address the life long lasting implications of those dark actions. I am looking at you Ryhsand. Oh and I will go in on him later but first let's talk about our heroine.

Feyre is a young girl whose family has fallen onto hard times and it is her single minded goal to keep them all alive. They live hand to mouth, off the game she manages to hunt in a rather inhospitable forest. One day while trying to kill a Doe she sees a massive wolf and decides to kill it as well, as it was making eyes at her doe and a girl is hungry.

She kills the massive creature and takes both animals home to skin and prepare for meals. The money and food ensuring that her family won’t starve for at least a few weeks if they ration properly. Days later another more terrifying monster comes to her cottage, a Fairy in beast form by the name of Tamlin, who says she killed his friend. Now, because she killed a fairy, she can either die or come live with him for the rest of her life. She takes the later… obviously.

Feyre is a fine enough protagonist, bland enough that you can imagine yourself in her position and fantasize about having two hot men chasing you. In my younger years, I would have happily daydreamed about being in her world, surrounded by magic but being personally skilled enough to not need the aid of magic.

A pet peeve, a totally personal bias, is that to her everything is just the worst. Her Sisters are awful, her dad useless, the cottage disgusting, hunting she hates it, the fairies vile, the Spring Court a prison, and so on. The issue isn’t so much that she has a negative mindset, that is human and that can make for an interesting shade of protagonist but in this novel, it is so one-note. Everything is described with the same level of disdain. Which makes moments where she talks about having to protect her family or Tamlin honestly confusing because with how little she seems to like them the reader is left wondering why? Because of a promise she made? To a mom she hates?

Listening, family relationships are complicated. The best line I’ve heard about a relationship similar to Feyre’s, comes from the movie Ladybird, where the titular character tells her mother “I know you love me but I don’t think you like me.” Maybe it’s the fact it’s a movie and the way it is said but it is hurt there. There is a pain in the girl’s voice that her mother and she are at odds.

Feyre at no point talks about the personal pain that comes from being so distant from her family. She just resents them. Even a short moment of remembering the better days, little memories of when her and Nestia playing together as kids or Elane showed her something in the garden. Something that shows that there is, even for the briefest moment love in these relationships.

Without those moments, Feyre’s flip-flopping between going home and staying at the Spring Court feels more like padding to extend a book that saved all of the interest for the last 3rd.My bigger issue with Feyre is she doesn’t seem to really think so much as exist and react in the world. For a series that many have commended for being about feminist agency, Feyre lacks more agency than a rock in a river. At least then the water has to move around the rock.

A story based around Beauty and Beast is always going to bring into question the nature of female agency. This French fairy tale was written in 1740, in a women's magazine, meant to help teach girls about their ultimate futures. In a society where women were the property of fathers and husbands. It urged girls to look at their “beastlike” husbands and try to find the good in them. To become okay with the fact that who they marry might treat them terribly but means well… maybe this book is a perfect adaption of that idea, but I digress.

Feyre is whisked away to this magical world and through her, we learn about the fairy world. A world of violence, court games, and so much sexual assault.

While in the spring court she is tricked by a mirage of her father, nearly eaten by Naga’s, threatened multiple times by basically everyone, sees a fairy die from its wings being ripped off, finds a severed head in the garden, and so on. Whenever she expresses confusion on what is happening there is always a Fairy there to monologue away the day with detailed pages long exposition.

She readily accepts any explanation of the fairy world a man, in particular, tells her. Its exposition for the readers but for a girl who has grown up in a world that believes fairies are violent and enslave humans she is so quick to accept everything they tell her. She doesn’t stop and questions intentions and if she does wonder about the intentions of a character she usually ends on the side of being favorable to them, l especially if they are attractive.

It's clear that Feyre isn’t there to be a character but a vehicle, an avatar for the reader to travel from point A to B. She never reacts to things in a way that a person of this world with such polarized groups would react to being forced to live in the enemy camp.

Then there is Tamlin. He is fine. Your standard brutish romantic interest that is cursed to be ugly forever, by way of the phantom of the opera mask. He is demanding and haughty and thinks he knows better than everyone. Your standard High Lord ego makes for the verbal back and forth that toes the line between sexual tension and toxic relationships.

He does that standard bodice-ripping shtick, while hopping up on fairy dust, he pins Feyre to the wall and bites her neck. She says no, he ignores and then runs off. With a lovely little moment later blaming her for leaving her room, therefore, he can't be held responsible.

While Feyre has probably never listened to a single rule in her life that is still a huge red flag.

Lucien, an interesting play on the Beast’s servants. He is torn between wanting Feyre around to break the curse but also hating her for killing a friend. Honestly, I think this could have been the most interesting relationship if there was more time devoted to it. That happens a lot in this book, interesting things happen too fast and a lot of time is just devoted to Feyres’ water bowels.

Finally Ryhsand, oh dear Rhy, how I wish I could cut you from my mind just as easily as you pop other Fairies brains. Rhys is not a bad character but his introduction into the book is right when this 400+ novel went from bland but inoffensive to outright infuriating. He is the triple threat of assault; Mental, Physical and Sexual.

We first meet the Lord of the Night Court at the Fire Festival (or in honor of Maas naming conventions Fyre) where he saves Feyre from a trio of Fairies that wanted to assault her. A fine enough intro, maybe a bit overused, but I liked the Howl’s moving castle vibes with the playboy swagger and not knowing why this guy is helping at all.

I was excited at first when he showed up, I couldn’t help but get online and see what fans had to say about the books and instantly noticed that the top pairing from the series was Feyre and Rhys. Not just a fan-loved pairing but an actual canonical couple. I was interested to see how the story went and how the author would hint at this future couple while the current story was still very much pointing to a Tamlin happy ending.

Imagine my surprise when the very next scene that Rhys pops up in, ends with him physically pinning Feyre and mentally assaulting her. I believe she refers to it as a talon in her mind ready to rip her consciousness into oblivion. What a great love interest.

To add insult to literal injury, he then mentally violates her and reveals all of her more adult desires that she has been thinking about Tamlin.

He blackmails them all, threatening to tell an evil queen, Aramantha, about Feyre’s existence unless Tamlin kneels and begs. Even then he demands Feyre’s name. She lies and gives him a girl’s name from her village.

Later we learn that the village girl, Claire, has her family burned alive in their home and is dragged to the Fairy world where she is brutally tortured, mutilated, and put on display like a bear pelt. This cruelty is all the result of Rhys not keeping his fat mouth shut about Feyre being in Tamlin’s court.

The author thinks it's okay to excuse this innocents girl's murder away and make Rhys seeming cunning, by saying that he knew that wasn’t Feyre and lied to protect her. A logic so backward I am surprised my spine didn’t snap in how far it had to bend to dodge the fact that he caused her endangerment by telling Aramantha about Feyre to begin with.

Things get darker than the night court once we enter under the mountain. There, while trying to survive Aramatha’s trials, Feyre breaks her arm to the point that the bone is exposed. A day later, bleeding out, in pain, and feverish from infection, Feyre has to talk to Rhys in her cell. He offers to heal her arm in exchange for her living with him every month for two weeks.

Feyre is not interested in his deal and tells him to leave several times. What does our future perfect mate decide to do then when denied what he wants? He grabs Feyre by her exposed arm bone and twists. This man. This sexy dream boy that so many people say is their model for relationships, grabs an injured woman’s exposed bone and tortures her. Just so she will promise to live with him. He is the little boy kicking the dog because it didn’t follow his orders.

After being physically assaulted in a way that is so painful I am sure most people would black out, Feyre agrees to his deal. However, she bargains the time down to one month. He agrees and seals the deal. Just like that Rhys becomes the male embodiment of a period, complete with all the emotional distress, muscle cramps, and blood.

So does the torture end there? Oh no. For several nights after that he makes servants strip her, paint her and dress her in fabric so thin that she is basically naked. Why paint you ask? Rhys claims it is so she and he knows if anyone touches her. Though I will say that while he states this he touches her shoulder and the paint magically fixes itself. So You know it will show if anyone but Rhys touches her.

He then parades her publicly in front of the entire court like a toy. She is forced to publicly expose her breasts and genitals to a crowd of people that from day one want to see her die. He reduces her to a sex object in a crowd that already does not see her humanity.

Then he drugs her. Not an exaggeration, he even admits to it later in the book. He forces her to drink wine that makes her blackout. The next morning she can barely remember anything and has to rely on Lucien to tell her what happened. While blacked out she is forced to dance practically naked, giving Rhys lap dances and just sitting in his lap. She is exposed so throughout that Lucien even comments that he has seen more than he ever wanted to.

All of this culminated in a moment where one-night Feyre gets a moment with Tamlin, the man she loves, and they kiss and touch each other. The paint is smeared and Rhys finds them. He tells Tamlin to leave and then pins Fyre again calling her a stupid human. Then shoves his own tongue down her throat against her will as she thrashes. Aramantha finds them then and makes sure everyone in the court gets a good laugh at Feyre’s “promiscuity”.

The act is disgusting but what really made me want to burn this book was the scene directly after this. Where Rhys shows up and gives his “reasoning” for abusing her. He was just protecting her because Aramantah would be mad if she found Feyre and Tamlin kissing. He was using her nude dances to try and anger Tamlin so he would fight back when he can. He drugged Feyre so she wouldn’t have to remember the humiliation of being someone's harlot. He did all of it to help her and him.

It's okay that he abused her because it was all for a greater plan. It's okay cause he is hot.

This is the moment when I have to step away from the book review and talk about what I have seen surrounding this novel. I have heard several fans explain away Rhy’s abuse by saying “but it was in her best interest” and “that’s what war does'”. So, let's unpack that, first “in her best interest” is basically the catchphrase of every abusive partner at this point. There will always be a reason for the abuse, it’s a gaslighting tactic that ensures that abusers can deflect any blame from themselves and onto their victim. This creates complicated emotions that will paralysis the abused person from leaving the relationship altogether.

If you find yourself in a relationship where you are always rationalizing away mistreatment then please take a step back and question why there are so many excuses to begin with.

As for the but war does that. I would like these same people to say that while looking at photos of real war atrocities. To look at images from the Nanjing Massacre or the Wounded Knee Massacre and say the same thing. Those acts of violence against men, women, and children were done during the war. Does that make it okay then if the violence was done by an attractive soldier who was deep and brooding?

I have a tendency to write my own preferred scenarios which I know is kind of pointless for a published book but fix fit fiction is a thing so hear me out.  Or don’t, that’s fine you can stop reading here as the review is over. I just have one simple idea that could fix a lot of my problems with this series.

Separate Rhysand into two separate characters.

Make the man she meets at the Fyre Festival and the guy who threatens her in the mansion and under the mountain just different guys.

You can keep the dark cunning mystery man of the Fyre Festival, maybe not even name him until he shows up again in the court to help. Have him come to her cell and offer his help. Have her say no and instead of grabbing her exposed arm bone he just says it’s the only help she will get. Hell Feyre talks herself into anyways after he grabs her bone so let's just skip that violence. Have her agree just as he is about to leave and give her the stupid arm tattoo and save her life. Then that’s it. He shows up at the end to help her but that’s it.

The man who meets her in the cell does not need to be the same man who forces her to do stripteases in front of hundreds of people. Make it Attar or some other male henchman of Aramantha who makes her do the dancing and drinking and everything else.

You still want him to be cunning and calculating? Maybe have a little bit of the grey morality that makes us all squirm?  Great than keeping the scene with the forced kiss (not great but whatever). That is easier to overlook than drugging, sexual harassment, and assault.  He can be forcibly kissing her to protect her and hell let's throw in an apology for fun.

Then you set up a situation where you have this dark and mysterious figure who we still don’t know why he helps her.

I know people say wait till book two and I do plan to read it. I got to see what excuse the author comes up with that seems to explain away so much abuse. What could she possibly say that makes me sit back and say “You know yes he pimped her out and yes he pulled on an exposed bone but you know what he just suuuuuuch a good guy.” If she is that good of an author then she should become a PR writer who makes spin articles for R. Kelly and Harvey Weinstein.

[a-collection-of-villainous-aus]

Coffee Shop au part four

(Segment one of three)

If I forget to tag something important please tell me.

(Present day)

(Small warning Acylius does use those he tortures for food for other demons and non mortal creatures to consume so if you have a problem with that then um just keep scrolling I guess ^^; )

What was this…that strange feeling of disappointment at seeing Black Hats chair being vacant; after all he’d only been there twice so it was not as if he was a regular customer, especially as they’d only been open for two days.

Why should the old demon stay until closing time anyway, just because he did it on the first day didn’t mean he’d do it again today, he had no reason to stay…Black Hat had been rather forward though, kissing him like that, not that he was complaining but , he wasn’t one to just play around and be used.

Friends with benefits was one thing, at least you knew where you both stood, and yet still, why did it feel so familiar, an old dream perhaps, after all who didn’t at least have one wet dream about the great Black Hat doing sordid things to your body right.

Especially with tentacles, while wearing priest robes.

Yes he had his kinks, but damn you if you tried to shame him for them.

He huffed, shoulders going slump, no this was ridiculous , feeling sad just because that idiot of a Gremlin just upped and left without so much as a good bye, Hat didn’t owe him anything and he didn’t owe Hat anything either.

Clearly he was crazy, he had finally fucking lost it, thinking of The Great Lord Black Hat owing him a good bye and a kiss on the cheek as if they were lovers, he’d just met the bastard.

No he needed to either relax or worry if the destroyer of worlds was going to ruin his café that’d he’d always wanted with his mischievous downright evil antics.

Acylius was currently grinding up their latest victim, a man who’d been abusing Nicodemus’s workers (don’t worry if you don’t know who that is I won’t be bringing him into this unless I need him for like filler scenes)

Body parts in neat piles on the counter top, ‘pork’ pies were on the menu tomorrow, this was Black Hat’s island so even the people knew some places the menu would cater to demons so if they saw the chalk was in red they knew it was demon cuisine, though of course there was always the daring person who’d ask for it anyway in which a waiver definitely had to be signed.

Hey, wasn’t going to be Acylius’s problem if they decided to off themselves on food that probably wasn’t for human consumption.

This particular man had been a pig and he was serving sow next week.

Vile beings needed to meet a vile end.

This was going to be a long night, he could manage though, at best he could manage on two nights of sleep during the week.

Currently the head of the meat sack was animated and still alive, the man was so far gone he’d reached that point of acceptance that this was happening and nothing could be done, so seeing his body being prepped for pastries and such was more amusing than anything.

“I’m a Legion demon Jake, that’s your name right?”

“Yeah.”

“So, anyway as I was saying I’m a Legion demon in this day and age that means nothing to most unless you are perhaps ancient or still follow the old ways, I have nothing to offer thee Great Lord Black Hat.”

Jake watched as the demon deboned, removed a hand and of his shaved one of his arms before washing it down to make sure all the hair was gone before slapping it into the mince meat maker.

“Last I heard your kind was like some kinda lucky charm right dude?”

“Yes, but he does not need that from me, if we did anything he would be interested in me for all of five minutes and bail, he is all shadows and darkness, I will literally spend weekends in my boxers eating cheese puffs if the week has been hard enough, hardly a turn on for someone like Black Hat.”

Acylius snapped while working on another piece.

“I dunno, some beings like to see their partners being able to feel that chill around them, but hey that’s just my jam you know, anyway stop whining, this guy is old as shit right, you don’t know, your Legion demon shit might actually put a huge boner in his pants.”

Jake taunted, smirking as he watched his killer bristle up, oooo hooo sensitive much.

You know those scenes in anime’s where the other character suddenly gets really tall, shadows where their eyes should be and their hair seems to just be blowing in the wind and there’s that broken glass sound sometimes.

That’s Acylius’s reaction as his mouth turns into a ground out grin that’s splitting wider and wider along where the scars are, ironically that injury is the reason he can smile this wide now when the demon in him starts to show.

Jake was going to die, he was already he dead he knew it so why not torment him just a little more and get it over with

“Awww no I know what it is baby demon, you want a daddy you can suckle on and-

Acylius brought the meat tenderiser down on Jake’s head repeatedly until there was only pulp left, brain matter and blood were splattered across his apron with a few deep scarlet streaks going across his cheek, how brightly the red stood out against the snow white skin.

He was staring at the mess he’d made, panting softly, pupils thin and biting his lip, alright maybe he’d enjoyed that a little too much, he frowned though when he saw the pies had been covered to, well perhaps they would still be salvageable.

Scraping the remains of the head into the bin marked biohazard he pulled the bag out and set it down getting rid of other pieces he no longer required, tomorrow non human waste disposal would be picking up the remains anyway.

Demencia had caught the show and was leaning on the door.

“Looks like you got a little too into that Lulu, sure you don’t want to tenderise me on the surface.”

(NOTE, Acylius’s nick name Lulu was made last year in November 2019 because my friend had trouble pronouncing his name, so I tried to think of a name that he’d only let close friends and loved ones call him and that’s where that comes from, not Helluva boss, just thought I’d point that out as there’s a Lulu world and Loo Loo land)

“Not now Demencia, I’m not in the mood for your jokes.”

Acylius ran his fingers through his hair, regretting it once he remembered oh yeah covered in blood; a shower would definitely be needed before bed.

“Ah I see, so the head got sassy huh?”

Flug, because yes reminder Acylius is Doctor Flug, paused at the backdoor and pouted

“Might have, he also said some very offensive words that I did not appreciate.”

Demmy folded her arms, shaking her head and smiling

“Well you showed that head who’s boss, now hurry up binch I want my cookies and hot chocolate, it’s late.”

Flug lovingly gave her the finger as he walked out the door while telling her she had two hands she could do it herself.

The back alley was dimly lit, not that he couldn’t see or choose to focus his vision to see clearer but sometimes it was nice just to appreciate light that softly glowed and curled around corners to take in the world in all different ways and settings…oh he missed rain, there hadn’t been any in nearly two months now, he missed how things glowed, street lamps became brighter and car lights so red and vibrant against the grey trailing along winding roads of shimmering black.

Perhaps it would soon when the snow had melted, he’d go for a long drive and listen to the rain hitting the roof of his car, patting against the windows, listening to the quiet tick, tick, tick of the vehicle when he switched on the indicator.

Yeah just drive out the middle of nowhere, strip down and run in the rain or just let it soak into his clothes as his breath streamed out in wispy clouds…

Ears twitching he heard a late party of drunks making their way home, he watched them pass by, they were completely unaware of him, if he were perhaps a rabid sort of demon they would be easy pickings, but that was not his game, at least not tonight, there was no scent that told him a wrong doing had been done, just a group of friends heading home for bed.

Snow had fallen in the tracks left by the bustling day life of the people around here and now in the silence he wondered was he lonely, Demencia’s offers had sometimes had been all too tempting simply out of need for comfort and to be close to someone, sometimes it seemed she needed it just as much as he did when they’d just lean on each other and complain about their day.

Looking up he found someone watching him from the shadows, well more saw a pair of eyes, completely yellow, no white to be seen, oranges and reds, as if he were looking at the sun, shivering as a breeze rolled through he pulled down his sleeves, goose bumps rising, a tingling down his spine, just the little things that reminded him he was alive, he was not afraid of what lingered in the shadows, there was no sense of danger.

Perhaps they were a Legion fan , someone caught off guard by his appearance, after all Flug knew his scars could be quiet unsettling to some people…though come to think of it he did sense an air of fear about this being, still they were wide and unmoving.

Really the sensible thing to do would be to just go inside and ignore this creature, yet something kept him there a longing to talk to it, placing the garbage into the bins he smiled just a little

“You know stranger, you remind me of someone…someone I feel like I should know.”

Acylius’s ears lay flat as he heard them softly whimper, it sounded so sad.

“I am sorry, I was not being offensive I assure you, this person I speak of was very kind, at least he was in the dream, I dreamt when I was little , funnily enough a night like this, Mother had locked me out…”

He held one hand in the other looking at them, fingers curling around his thumb

“My fingers were so cold and red I could barely feel them, or the rest of myself to be honest…heh you probably do not want to hear the tired ramblings of an out of date demon.”

“No, please continue.”

There was silence again, that whispered voice, it comforted him, made him feel at ease, this indeed truly was a strange day.

“Mother had locked me out, I didn’t cry or beg her to let me back in, I knew she would not open the door, so I laid down cheek to the snow, despite being almost numb my face burned, my face…”

Tracing along his scars as he recalled the moment could not help but wince

“I had to be careful still they had barely healed by that point, but I remember how good the cold felt on them, red and angry they seemed to only be satisfied when pressed to the freezing earth, I knew that night or at least believed I was going to die and…I was alright with that until I saw a pair of eyes just like yours.”

Acylius took a step forward only stopping when he saw this being step back

“They were gold, I thought they were so beautiful , I thought maybe the angels we were told about were not so bad if they could come for something like me, his claws hands reached down for me but I didn’t see his face, all I heard was that I was coming home with him and his name…his name was…”

Acylius held his head in his hands, scrubbing them down his face

“His name was Cruentus.”

When he looked back at where the eyes had been there was only darkness, the demon in the dark had disappeared so quickly he wondered for a moment if they’d even been there.

No, nope, nope, that dream was not real, that being was not Cruentus, it was all coincidence and he was just exhausted, yes that was it, perhaps he should sleep tonight, or maybe he’d snacked on too much of Jake while he was working, or had too many sugary treats either way, it was pies in the fridge and off to bed.

Opening the back door he locked it behind him, ignoring the fact Demencia was chomping on one of the pies, after all she knew what was in them if she wanted to eat it that was up to her, his mind was elsewhere.

“Mmmm you tenderized this one good, Legs, nice and juicy.”

Usually her friend would react to that name, at least grunt or gently nudge her and tell her not to call him that, something was clearly bothering Acylius.

“Legs?”

Demencia asked gently, placing a hand on his shoulder, only for him to turn and pick her up by the front of her shirt, snarling as he did so

“Do not call me that name!”

Looking down at him, Demencia could really see something wasn’t right here, was he remembering something to do with that name, like it had always annoyed him, but that glare, the disheveled hair and fangs all bared …honestly in another situation he would be hot as fuck…alright she was already thinking he looked hot as fuck but this was not the time or place.

Touching Acylius’s face lightly, she watched as his ears flicked, his breathing was ragged, his eyes returning from being solid blue to having pupils and irises again, her hands were warm and comforting and he found himself leaning into them, lips pressed against her palm…she was there to ground him in his bad moments and he could never thank his friend enough for that.

“You mind setting me down you tree.”

Demencia laughed softly.

He carefully set her back down and pulled her in for a hug

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I would never hurt you, never.”

Nuzzling against his chest and wrapping her arms around him, patting his back

“Hey, hey now, none of that you dumb tree, I know you have gaps in your memory, did you remember why do you don’t like that name?”

“Hate, I don’t just dislike that name, I hate it…all I can hear is someone called Vincent and they make me curl up and die, I have no face only a voice, if I ever heard it…I would know…”

Flug was quiet, taking in just how small she was against him, reminding him how small most were against him like this, his talons formed, slowly stroking her hair, playing with the fuchsia overlay, down to her neck where it faded to lime green, such an interesting choice of colours to wear in ones hair.

“You already know I just appeared back into existence, as if the world itself birthed me, I was somewhere forgotten…and seeing Black Hat today, I think…no it is a stupid notion to think he could see me as anything.”

He kissed the top of her head, thankful that she had not let go, Demencia was the one being who never seemed to be afraid of him, who he knew he could trust and rely on in these moments where memories were trying to break through the surface and suffocated when they could not make it.

“I am a Legion demon, no more than a trinket in the end, I am a nothing in his world and I am okay with that, I have a nice peaceful life and a coffee shop just like I always wanted…”

He sat with her on the counter, as she sat on one of his thighs

“This is just a hug, you don’t need more right?”

Demmy enquired, slightly hopeful because who didn’t want to climb him, honestly, he was an idiot for not seeing he didn’t need to be some grand demon to be wonderful.

“Yes, just a hug…I wish I could say I grew up in a loving home with Christmases like in the movies, that I could tell you my life’s story, talk about a time I scraped my knee when I was small and had a mother who put cute cat plasters on me just because I like cats.”

She listened and let him stroke her hair, it’d always calmed him to pet soft things, so perhaps she might use shampoos that were just a little pricier than she’d usually buy simply to make sure her hair was soft for these broken moments no one else saw.

Even though he was not sobbing, made no notion he was crying, the damp warmth on her shoulder told her otherwise.

“I want to tell you the times my Father took me for ice cream, my first kiss with the person I fell in love with, something…anything, but there’s nothing there.”

She listened attentively until he had nothing left to say, carefully taking his hand from her scalp; Demencia held his face and looked at him

“Damn Sillyus, they really did send you back with nothing more than a leaflet.”

“I suppose, but I have so much to thank you for, when you found me on that street, I only remembered enough to get by, to survive, but you helped me to settle into this time and be a part of the modern world.”

Acylius kissed her forehead before pressing his to hers, eyes closed as he whispered

“I’m so tired of being lost, of being unsure of what I am, who I am, I just want to bake, make coffee and kill people in my basement, I think fortune smiled on me for a moment when you found me, I think I might just give you the world if you asked.”

“Awww come on dude, sounds like a love confession here, I have bills to pay off and knew there was a darker side in me, you’re the Sweeny to my Lovett.”

She teased fondly, lightly smacking the back of his head, smiling as he managed a laugh

“I guess I could agree platonically with that.”

“But honestly Slender Man, babe if you wanted to plant your tentacles and leave your seed in me I wouldn’t say no.”

Acylius rolled his eyes and shook his head, using a tea towel to wipe his face

“Honestly woman you are bloody hopeless.”

“Yeah but you love me all the more for it.”

She grinned punching him playfully on the shoulder

“Perhaps I do, but I am not as hot as you like to say I am, I hide my face, I hate when people look at my scars and pity me.”

Demmy raised a brow and climbed off of his leg, flicking his forehead

“I know you like to hide your face behind glamour and tricks but you’re beautiful even if you don’t see it dumbass, I’m starting to wonder what the fuck happened outside that had you coming back in as if someone stole your last apple crown and there’ll never be another one again on the face of the planet.”

She put the kettle on and took out the upside down pineapple cake; this was definitely a cake and tea situation

“First of all, do not say such blasphemous things, life would not be worth living without apple crowns, second of all…I think, I know I said there’s nothing there but I think I might have had a memory about my childhood involving Cruentus.”

Demencia nearly dropped the mug she was holding, setting it down she turned to face him

“Holy fucking shit, you mean thee fucking Cruentus, Hellhound butler, Hell Knight, works for the brooding clearly wants you to nail his ass Black Hat, that Cruentus…ahh I hear he has eyes like the fucking sun.”

Acylius gave her a deadpan look, hands on hips as he stood, looming over her, trying to look seriously only for it to falter

“You Demmy are just horny on main.”

“So what if I am? Gonna call me a slut like my last partner?”

She swatted away his playfully prodding hand.

“No, I never understood why it’s perfectly fine for men to have as many partners as they wish but seen as something terrible when a woman just wants to enjoy her life the same way, society is mad…also no more jokes on Black Hat you wicked beastie.”

Demencia would be lying if she didn’t admit his ability to shift from one mood to the other sometimes made her head spin, but it was clear he’d needed that moment to talk, shrugging she turned back to the kettle

“Alright, alright I’ll behave at least for now, I mean it’s clear the big bad doesn’t want you, how could he possibly want you…even though anyone with eyes could see he kept checking you out and every single coffee you brought him in hopes your stupid number was on it somewhere.”

Demencia couldn’t help but stifle a giggle at his sounds of huffing and frustration and heard him sit at the table, she did know there was stories, legends really by this point of Cruentus having a son, but you literally had to pour through footnotes and any books that might have had more information had been removed from shelves and privatized under the order of Black Hat himself.

End of segment one

(I'll try and type up segment two tomorrow)

[guardianofjunmyeon]

Finding Atlantis (part 10)

Genre: Action/Adventure, Enemies to Lovers, PirateAU

Description: 20 years ago the seas became angry. Unruly and unkind to any sailor, to any ship that dared venture too far out in her waters. Many a man has heard the tales of Atlantis, the lost city, the key the ocean. But fewer men know the tale of it’s missing child. The key to the ocean, the key to Atlantis but a lost little one. The power one would hold should they find this child would be nearly that of Poseidon himself. Thus, the hunt began.

A/N: these chapters are always so long i am so sorry !!! I love krystal and sulli don’t let the way i wrote them trick you into thinking i dont

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18

“MAN OVERBOARD! JUNMYEON HAS FALLEN OVER BOARD.” You stomp over to the edge of the ship and look back where you last saw Junmyeon. You left him behind.

You left Junmyeon behind.

“They bleed blue,” you murmur to yourself. “They bleed blue!” you shout to your crew. “If you have any doubt about whether someone is real or not, shoot first and apologize later,” you command. “Stop the ship now. I need two people with me to go rescue Junmyeon.” You secure your gun in its holster and make your way towards the dinghies secured off the side of the ship. “They’ve seen half of our faces so no one is safe from being assumed an imposter.” You pull your gun back out of its holster and add two more bullets to its chamber.

“Can I come with you?” Jongin places his hand on your shoulder and you tense at the touch. When you look into his eyes, for a second you feel calmed.

“Yes, but we need at least one more person. Have you had to fight a siren before?” you ask him as you make a mental note of what weapons you have on your person.

Jongin shakes his head. “The last time we were here we never left the ship, but I think that Chanyeol would be best to accompany us.”

“Bring him then. We don’t have any more time to waste.” Jongin bounds off to find the other pirate and you take quick steps towards Yixing who has reappeared back on deck crouched next to the body of the siren. “I’m leaving the ship in your hands. Jongin and Chanyeol are going with me. Double check that everyone else is accounted for and actually who they seem to be while we go after Junmyeon.”

“Are you sure you should do this? What if that wasn’t him?”

“Have you seen Junmyeon anywhere on the ship in the last 10 minutes?”

He closes his mouth at the question. You set your lips in a grim line.

“Like I said, we’re going after him. If we aren’t back in a reasonable amount of time, you know what to do.”

Yixing nods and stands up from his position near the ground. “Be safe,” he says gently.

You can’t promise him that you will, so you break eye contact and look towards the rocks that make up the island. There’s no way for you to know what you will face, and you’ll do whatever it takes to get Junmyeon back to safety. Your safety in all of that isn’t your priority.

“Captain, Chanyeol and I are ready when you are,” Jongin says, stepping into your line of vision with Chanyeol close behind.

“We’ll be back,” is all you can assure Yixing. Luckily he accepts it as he watches you set off towards the water.

Once the boat is lowered, Jongin takes charge of rowing in the direction that you point him towards. The ride is silent.

Silent?

“Do you guys hear any singing?” you question.

Chanyeol’s head tilts to the side curiously before his eyes widen. “No…I don’t think I’ve heard anything in the last few minutes.”

“I haven’t heard anything since the screeching…” Jongin adds.

You wonder if the screech was a warning sound to the others. Perhaps they have stopped singing all together to hide –now that one of them has been killed.

“Chanyeol, how often are sirens killed?”

He scratches the top of his head. “I don’t know. Not often. People don’t ever get close enough to be able to kill them.”

“Then they’re probably not very happy that we killed the one that made it on the ship, huh?”

“No duh,” Jongin huffs out.

It’s their own fault for climbing aboard your ship. You wouldn’t have been able to kill it had it not been right there next to you.

Laughter floats from the trees and you feel everyone aboard the little boat stiffen. You catch a glimpse of blonde hair in your periphery. It’s gone in a flash, lost in the trees along with the laughter, but you know that you caught sight of it.

“I’ve always fucking hated sirens,” Chanyeol grumbles out.

You have to say that you are beginning to feel the same.

“Jongin wait, take us to the left. I see something over that way,” Chanyeol points out a spot on the bank of the water where there seems to be signs of a recent disturbance. It’s wet with a trail large enough to be that of someone pulling themselves out of the water.

It looks like it could be where Junmyeon was able to pull himself on land.

Unless he was being pulled down, you know for a fact that Junmyeon could get himself to land. Outside of Yixing, he’s the strongest swimmer on your crew.

The only sounds that fill your ears are the tinkling of the waterfalls and the sound of the paddles hitting water and bringing you closer to shore. The hairs on your body stand at attention. Every sense on alert as you step out of the boat and look around the land.

Chanyeol squats down where the trail is located and touches it with careful fingers. Jongin hefts the boat far enough on land that it won’t be pulled back out to sea. You hear shuffling in the bushes to your right and reach for your gun. You feel itchy to kill something. Whether this be siren or some wild animal, you don’t think that you care. So long as you can shoot and release some of this pent up anxious energy.

Your arm loses all of the tension that had built up –eager to pull out your pistol- and falls limply to your side when Junmyeon comes stumbling out of the trees.

He’s limping and gripping at his arm as if in pain, his clothes are still soaked and he looks dirty and tired, but when his eyes meet yours he smiles.

“Captain,” he rasps.

Your nose burns immediately at the threat of tears. You make it one step towards him before you’re stopped and pulled back. You whip your head around to find Jongin grabbing your bicep with a look of desperation in his eyes. He shakes his head almost imperceptibly.

You don’t even get the chance to question him when the sound of a gunshot rings through the air. Jongin winces, and his grip on your arm loosens enough for you to slip out and turn back to find Junmyeon bleeding from the injured arm he’d been holding earlier.

His blood gushes out blue.

You stand frozen in your spot as the siren sneers and contorts Junmyeon’s face in a horrifyingly angry expression. It screeches shrilly and tries to limp back into the trees, but it seems as though its limp was genuine and that slows it down greatly. Jongin is tackling it to the ground while Chanyeol is busy putting another bullet into his pistol. Your mind whirs back to life and you run towards the siren and hold down its thrashing legs while Jongin controls its arms. It gets a solid kick to your shoulder before you’re able to hold it down.

Despite the dirt covering its body, you notice now that it isn’t bleeding anywhere outside of where it was hurt by Chanyeol. You wonder if they are unable to replicate human blood.

The siren writhes and you grit your teeth trying to hold it still.

“Where did you take him?!” you shout over the rustling of the brush from its squirming.

It laughs loudly and its back arches high enough off the ground that you briefly think it will start levitating. You and Jongin put more of your weight on it to keep it restrained.

“Where is the man you’re disguised as?” Chanyeol tries. He cocks the gun. The siren cackles wildly, nearly to tears, but makes no move to answer either of your questions.

“I don’t think it’s going to talk,” Jongin murmurs.

As if to agree with his words, the siren leans up as much as it can, looks straight into your eyes, and bites off its own tongue.

It spits it out right at Chanyeol’s feet. The once pink tip turns long, slimy and deep blue as it hits the ground. You feel sick at the sight of –what looks like Junmyeon bleeding blue from the mouth with a vile smile across his face. The three of you look at the tongue in surprise.

“No more questions then I assume?” Chanyeol asks you. He points his gun to the sirens head. Despite knowing that it’s just a monster, you don't think you’ll be able to watch someone kill, what looks like, Junmyeon. You close your eyes and turn your head away from him.

You nod your head and screw your eyes tighter together. You hear the single shot and feel the way the body stiffens and freezes beneath your hands. You only open your eyes when you feel a hand on your shoulder.

Chanyeol looks down at you sympathetically, and you let go of a breath that was trapped in your throat. When you look down at your hands where they are still holding down the siren, you see the grey skin beneath your palms and realize that you no longer feel wet clothing but the moist scaly skin of the dead siren.

It’s no longer Junmyeon.

You jerk your hands away and frown down at the body. Despite this being the third siren you’ve seen in its true form, you have yet to grow comfortable with just how horrid they look.

They cannot be something of nature. You wonder what made them into the creatures they are. Perhaps they angered one of the Gods and were cursed.

Whatever the reason may be, it’s none of your concern why they are the way that they are. They’re evil and have potentially hurt Junmyeon.

That's all that you dare care about right now.

“Let’s go,” you grunt out and stand to your feet. If you weren’t in a bad mood before, the sirens are doing a spectacular job of putting you in one.

Unsheathing your sword, you march towards the trees and slice through branches and vines with more force than needed to cut down the weak foliage that hangs down in your way. For a full five minutes you take your anger out on the nature that surrounds you as you walk forward with no plan.

“C-Captain-”

You freeze in your tracks at the tentative timbre of Jongin’s voice and realize in your stillness that your arms are shaking. You clench your fist tighter around the hilt of your blade.

“What?” you bite out, trying your hardest not to let your frustration appear in your voice.

You’re frustrated with yourself –extremely. The sirens have tricked you twice now, three times if you count being fooled into thinking that when you saw Junmyeon in the water that it was fake. The constant trickery makes you feel as though you aren’t competent enough to handle this mission. You are a seasoned pirate, you should be able to think rationally and not be tricked by silly deceptions like these.

You’re the god damned Captain of the Storm Chaser.

A Captain who has been fooled thrice now by illusions and lost a member of their crew in the middle of another trial. You're sick of losing members of your crew, sick of these trials, and especially sick of these god damned mother fucking death mermaids.

“Maybe one of us should lead? You seem a bit…tired,” Jongin finishes cautiously and looks over to Chanyeol.

“No. You seem like you’re on the verge of a fucking breakdown,” Chanyeol corrects easily. Jongin frowns and smacks the taller on the arm. Chanyeol is unfazed and offers nothing but a short shrug. “You do.”

You inhale and close your eyes. When you exhale you try to release the tension that has accumulated in your muscles. It only lessens slightly.

“I’m fine,” you start. You open your eyes and feel a fresh wave of awareness wash over you. You mind feels more cleared than it has in the last hour –even if it is only by a small margin. “I’m fine now. Just…let’s find Junmyeon and get as far away from this cursed fucking island as we can as fast as possible.” You grimace. “And let’s try not to get distracted,” you say more for your own sake.

Even with your head a bit more clear, you think that it may be a better idea for someone else to lead for a while. Wordlessly, you motion Chanyeol ahead of you in an unspoken command. He nods and takes out his own sword so that he can cut through the foliage.

As he trudges forward and you fall behind him, Jongin falls behind as well.

“Are you doing okay, Cap’n?” Jongin whispers. “You seem overwhelmed.”

“I am overwhelmed,” you state bluntly. Leaves and branches crunch under your boots. “This new situation with sirens and being tricked three times is wearing on my mind.” You glance from Chanyeol’s back to Jongin at your side. An empathetic pout rests on his face. You hold in the urge to pinch his lips to make him stop. “If it wasn’t stressing me out, then it wouldn’t be a trial now would it?” You try to make light of it. Jongin doesn’t seem moved by your attempt, so you set your lips in a line and focus back on the sweat dripping down the back of Chanyeol’s nape and into the soaking wet neckline of his blouse.

If you feel stressed, you can’t imagine what Junmyeon is experiencing. These are trials meant to test his commitment to getting home. You know that that must be weighing on him in a way you couldn’t even begin to imagine. This could be the last chance he has to return home and if this fails then it will crush him.

Determination flaring, you turn your attention to your surrounds to look for any signs that Junmyeon has been in the area. You have to finish this for him. Find him. Recuperate. Get him home. Not just for your or his sake. But for the sake of the ocean. Things are much bigger than you.

You have to.  

Minutes pass before you finally catch sight of something out of the ordinary. Something glimmers excitedly in your periphery. “Chanyeol wait. Do you guys see that?”

You point in the direction you see the shining object. Chanyeol and Jongin squint towards it; Jongin gasps.

“Is that a sword?” he walks forward unexpectedly, steps eager, and you and Chanyeol rush after him once the shock of him abruptly walking towards it has passed. A vine smacks you in your face; you pull it down with an unnecessary amount of strength.

You are sick of this fucking island.

As your group approaches the object, it becomes clear that it is in fact a sword. The sword is driven into the dirt –nearly to the hilt- and the sun rays that are able to break through the trees above shine down and illuminate the metal. The sword looks like Junmyeon’s at first glance, and the emblem of a water drop etched into the bottom of the blade confirms it.

Jongin walks over and pulls it from the ground. You don’t even have a moment to consider that it may be a trap.

And then everything happens at once.

From the hole left in the ground where the sword was once buried, green mist sprays into the air. It’s light in color and smells floral –a bit like lavender. It fills the air quickly. Jongin drops the sword as if burned; you don’t see the body in the trees until it’s dropping down onto his back, tackling him to the ground.

Before you can call out, you’re knocked to the ground from the weight of a body landing on your back. Adrenaline pumps frantically and you muster the strength to toss the body off of you. “IT’S A TRAP!” you shout frantically, as if the words alone will save you at this point. With the words you take in a huge breath of the green mist and you feel your muscles weaken immediately. Laughter fills your ears as your eyes get heavier.

Poisonous gas.

The mist becomes thicker, and you can no longer find Chanyeol or Jongin among the fog.

“Get…help…” you murmur. The gas seeps into your lungs, into your pores, into any entry point that it can and paralyzes you. First your muscles, then your nerves, and then finally your brain. You slip into darkness without even being given the chance to put up a fight.

~~~

The recognizable sound of a rushing waterfall startles you awake. With a gasp your eyes fly open.

You can clearly remember the green mist and being tackled to the ground. Whatever was in the cloud that numbed you must have been some kind of a sleeping agent.

Everything is dark around you and stars speckle the sky above.

Hours must have passed since you were ambushed.

Though the sky is dark, the ground is alight with life. Bioluminescent mushrooms and plants speckle the dirt around you and are placed deliberately to your left and create a path towards the waterfall. Your shoulders are tense from the amount of time you’ve spent with your arms tied behind your back and crushed against what feels like a dead body. You wiggle your fingers to make sure that you can feel your hands with your wrists bound. The rope around your middle, securing you to the other mass, is tight and digs painfully into your abdomen.

You crane your neck to the side to see who exactly you’re tied to. Their neck is crooked in what has to be an extremely uncomfortable position, but they’re definitely breathing and just sleeping at your side. If you had to guess from the neck and shirt that you can just barely see, you’d guess that this body is Chanyeol. When you look to your other side you see what has to be Jongin hunched over the rope asleep and tugging you and Chanyeol’s bodies in his direction. You struggle to sit up and alleviate the strain being put on your body trying to accommodate Jongin’s position.

“Fuck, why’d they tie us together like this?” you hiss under your breath. The rush of the waterfall is loud and you feel droplets of water reaching your skin even from where you’re tied up a ways away. No matter how you try to twist your hands you can't loosen the hold of the rope.

Jongin and Chanyeol remain asleep.

The three of you are going to die here.

You are ready to accept that fate, but you continue to search for any way to escape. You might die, but not without some kind of a struggle.

In the middle of you rubbing your wrists bloody and raw from pulling and scraping against the rope, the waterfall begins to split down the middle. It parts like a crystalline curtain to reveal what appears to be a cave hidden in the rock face. Jewels twinkle inside of it. Through the cascading curtains out steps a figure that has become oh-too-familiar to you. You scowl and tense in defense.

The blonde siren smiles when she finds you awake and staring her way. She looks relaxed in her gown of water, illuminated by the greenish glow of the plants and fungi around you. She looks as if she has not a single care in the world. After neutralizing you and your men, you suppose she doesn’t.

Languidly she struts towards you, almost like she’s gliding on air. Her hair billows behind her even with the distinct lack of wind blowing. She looks ethereal.

“Our first riser,” she coos. Her skin is as smooth as porcelain and you can see now that even when she smiles, there is not a single eye crinkle or smile line. Clasping her hands behind her back she leans to each side of you to take a look at each of the still sleeping crewmen you’re tied to. “You must not have inhaled as much as they did. Interesting,” she comments offhandedly –as if making an observation to use later in further research after an experiment.

You can’t stop yourself from asking, “Who are you?”

The smile doesn’t leave her lips.

“I know you’ve been watching us. Are you the one who planned our ambush? The one who had my crewman fall off the ship?”

“You’re an inquisitive one, aren’t you?” She chuckles. A hand with immaculately decorated nails reaches out to stroke your cheek. Her nails shine like freshly cut diamonds in the dark. “Not quite as dumb as you look either. I was almost sure that first illusion of your little friend would be enough to distract you from the prince falling into the water.”

You flinch at her touch and feel anger at the insinuation that a single conversation with Baekhyun would mean more to you than Junmyeon’s life.

“Ah, but your question,” she yawns and stretches out long slim limbs. The crack of her bones is loud, unnatural. “I suppose I could spare you an explanation. You are to die here, so it would be kind to allow you the privilege to understand why you have met this fate, no?”

You decide not to respond. She continues on.

“I am the leader of this island, the head siren –a queen if you desire a more relatable title. I have led those who inhabit this island for centuries. We have seen many ships come and even fewer go, but you…strange one, are the first to kill multiple of my subjects.” There is a flash of rage in her eyes before cold indifference settles back in them.

“Wouldn’t have happened if you'd stayed off my ship and left my crew alone,” you say curtly.

She rolls her eyes. “Where’s the fun in that?”

You pull against the ropes again. The knot is tied too well. You won’t be able to escape unless you cut it. Your jostling seems to wake Jongin –if the groggy groan from him is anything to go by.

“Where’s Junmyeon?”

“The prince?” she waves a hand in the air dismissively. “Do not worry. He is safe. We do not plan to hurt him yet. He is too useful.”

“Useful?”

“His father. That cursed man,” she hisses. Insanity swirls in her eyes. “We were all beautiful, you know? Me and my subjects. Our beauty was coveted by everyone, but that damned God Poseidon turned us into- into this.” She stands to her full height and the illusion of a beautiful maiden changes into that of the monstrous figure that matches all of the other sirens you’ve encountered. Bile immediately rises in your throat. “He turned us into these disgusting creatures all because we let a single ship escape our island unsunk.” She laughs bitterly, but in her natural state it comes out gravelly and deep.

Jongin moans again at your side. The siren’s eyes flicker towards him in anger. “One ship of men got away and now we are doomed to live out our days as disgusting fish creatures. The prince will be our way back to beauty.” Her eyes slide back to you. She seems less unhinged as she continues on. “He will guarantee that we are restored to normal.”

Understanding hits you like a brick. “You’re going to use him as bait to get to Poseidon…”

You almost want to laugh at the ridiculousness of it. If his father cared about him, he would have stepped in long ago. Junmyeon has told you about his estranged father and knowing what you’ve been told, you’d be truly astounded if he bothered to step in to save a single demigod son when he has tens of other ones. Especially not one who isn’t even in line to be king of Atlantis.

“Good fucking luck with that,” you scoff out.

A displeased grumble emits from her throat before she transforms back into the blonde maiden.

“Krystal!” She turns around at the new voice.

Another woman comes bounding out of the cave –her hair black, lips plump and a similar (almost translucent) complexion. “Krystal,” she says again. “There is trouble on the eastern side of the island.”

“Thank you Sulli. I will be there shortly,” the blonde siren, Krystal, says to the other. You hope whatever the trouble is kills at least half of them.

The siren Sulli nods after the acknowledgement from her queen and then runs back off without a single glance in your direction. You’d be annoyed if you weren’t already completely done with this entire situation.

“Looks like it’s about time that we kill you and your friends. Pity, I would have liked you to join us,” she looks beyond you and you feel a tug in the rope.

Jongin is awake. He doesn’t speak but the noise of discomfort he makes at her comment towards him is enough of a response you think.

“I think he’ll pass,” you say mockingly.

“Quite the mouth on you.”

“I’d like to think it’s my charm,” you smile, all teeth, without any emotion. It’s as empty as you feel.

Her lip turns down in discomfort. Done humoring you after your comment, she turns back around and walks towards the waterfall.

Rude.

You watch her receding figure until the water closes behind her –naturally, as if never disturbed.

When you turn back around, you knock your head into Jongin’s. “What the fuck-”

“Sorry I was…watching her,” he explains. He moves back into his space and you both squirm uncomfortably against your restraints, surrounded only by the rumble of the waterfall.

Minutes pass of nothing.

What is there to say?

You know that it’s been far longer than a “reasonable amount of time” that you’ve all been missing. The protocol that Yixing should be following is to search for you all for a total of 12 hours and then leave you behind if there is no sign of you all. It’s been at least 8 since you left the ship and from the way the sirens were able to trick you all, you think that making it seem like you’ve all vanished or are dead for another 4 will be an easy enough scene to conjure up.

After all you still have no idea where they’re keeping Junmyeon.

At the very least, you hope that they find him and get out and continue the mission.

“So…” Jongin flinches hard next to you at the sudden sound of Chanyeol’s voice. You aren’t as shocked to find him suddenly awake. “We’re gonna die here, huh?”

You take in a large breath and pull at your sore wrists again only to be met with the same amount of resistance. “Yeah…looks like it,” you mutter tiredly. Jongin lets out a whine from the back of his throat.

“Any last minute confessions before we die?” Chanyeol throws out. “Anyone in love with me? Now is your last chance to say it, unfortunately I will have to reject you.”

You’re too tired to snort in annoyance. You settle for an exasperated exhale.

“I put shoe polish on my lips once because I thought it was lip balm,” Jongin rushes out in a single breath –as if the confession winds him.

There’s a pause of silence.

Chanyeol giggles. You blink dumbly.

“You what???” You ask.

“We’re about to die, I can’t confess without judgment? I thought it was lip balm okay?!”

“I once stole one of Kyungsoo’s swords and blamed it on you Jongin.” Chanyeol’s confession comes next in an equally nervous rush of words.

“That was you?!” Jongin asks Chanyeol incredulously. The rope pulls as he strains to look at Chanyeol. “Kyungsoo was pissed at me for weeks! When we get out of here I am telling-”

“YOU CAN’T! IF WE DON’T DIE HERE THEN HE’LL KILL ME!” He lowers his voice in embarrassment. “You know I like him-”

“YEAH WELL TOUGH SHIT YOU DESERVE IT!”

“WELL I KNOW YOU LIED TO SEHUN AND TOLD HIM THAT THE DOG HE HAD FOR A MONTH RIPPED HIS FAVORITE PANTS BUT IT WAS REALLY YOU AND I’LL TELL AND THEN WE’LL ALL FUCKING DIE!”

Jongin nearly screeches. You barely follow the conversation since this seems to be stuff that happened from before they joined your crew. You listen to the two of them go back and forth whining and complaining for longer than you’d think they could keep up an argument as you contemplate sharing your own secret.

The Chanyeol liking Kyungsoo thing is news to you, but you aren’t all that shocked by it. If the way Chanyeol seems to all but live in the kitchens when he’s not needed in the artillery is anything to go by.

His confession makes you feel a bit braver about voicing your own. It feels like acid sitting on your tongue, but knowing that this could be your last night alive, you feel the urge to just say it. Aloud. You’ve been thinking it over for a few days and you may be dumb and stubborn but you are anything but stupid.

Jongin and Chanyeol are still going at each other and Jongin’s whining is almost teary as Chanyeol switches to lightly bullying the younger instead.

“I like Baekhyun.” You whisper the words to yourself, so soft that the crashing of the waterfall can drown it out. When neither of them acknowledge your nearly silent words, you sag forward in relief. You feel a bit lighter having said it and even more at ease knowing that you went unheard by the two men tied to you who are still arguing childishly.

“Shut up I don’t actually hate you, big cry baby.” Chanyeol huffs out.

“Really?” Jongin sniffles.

“Yes really, dumbass.” Chanyeol’s head turns as far in your direction as he can given your positions. “Wait what did you say Captain?”

You’re quick to try and brush it off. “Nothing-”

“That she likes Captain Baekhyun but everyone already knows that. That’s not a confession,” Jongin warbles out before just flat out collapsing forward in another wave of sobs. You have no idea how he’s able to have a full on breakdown but still angrily complain about your words. You’re so stunned by his crying that you can’t even try and deflect or defend yourself.

“Jongin…are you…okay?” you ask tentatively.

“No! Chanyeol is mean and you’re dumb and so is Baekhyun and we’re gonna die and no one is going to be happy!” He manages to whine out.

“He’s fine he just gets emotional easily,” Chanyeol whispers to you loudly (read: not at all). “It’s okay Jongin. I still love you even though when you cry you get extra cranky at everyone because we get to see how ugly you look with snot on your face.”

“Fuck you!”

The outrageousness of your situation makes you start to laugh so loudly that you startle yourself. There’s so much going on, you’re laughing more from the fact that you cannot believe where you are and what is going on rather than you finding a single thing happening funny. Tears fall from your eyes as the laughs keep bubbling out of your chest.

“She’s officially lost it,” Chanyeol grumbles. “It was only a matter of time. You’re crying and she’s laughing. This is not how I imagined I’d spend my last night alive.”

“For people tied up, you all sound like you’re having a lot of fun.”

“Holy shit! Where’d you come from?” You can’t see who Chanyeol is talking to, but you know the voice well enough to place it even in a thousand voices.

You try to crush the happiness that blossoms in your chest at being found.

At Baekhyun being here to save you.

You would retch at your reaction to him if there was any food in your stomach to throw up.

It’s not like he would leave Jongin and Chanyeol behind to die, you should have expected that he would come after them.

You close your eyes to try and squeeze away the last of the tears that had sprung to your eyes during your fit of uncontrolled laughter. The rope around your torso loosens and falls to your lap and you can finally take in a full breath for the first time in hours. Once the rope around your wrist is cut free you open your eyes and bring your hands up to your face to take in the crusted blood encircling your hands.

You’re hefted off the ground by your upper arms.

Spots dot your vision and you wobble dizzily on your feet. When you blink them away you come face to face with Baekhyun. If you weren’t exhausted and seeing stars, you’d think that you might see relief in his eyes. Fingers come up to wipe away the last of the hysterical tears lingering below your eyelashes. He’s shaking a bit.

There’s blood on his face. A mix of blue and red.

He’s real.

You fall forward to hug him before you can stop yourself. You feel him tense in surprise but he doesn’t shove you away the way you anticipated. Before he can reciprocate or even process what you’ve done, you let go and move away. You realize that Baekhyun hadn’t come alone when you see Kyungsoo being crushed in Chanyeol’s embrace and Jongin sandwiching him in. Jongin is crying into Kyungsoo’s sweat soaked back.

“How’d you guys find us?” you ask.

Kyungsoo forcefully pushes his way out of Chanyeol and Jongin’s arms. He acts annoyed, but you see the signs of happiness on his face. “We-”

Baekhyun jumps in to cut Kyungsoo off. “Don’t worry about it. Let’s just get out of here.”

“We can’t leave without Junmyeon.”

“Minseok and Seulgi have gone after him. They’re going to meet us by the dinghies,” Kyungsoo supplies. You notice now that he is also covered in blue and red blood. He’s real too.

You look down at the red blood crusting over your wrists and find matching cuffs of blood around Chanyeol and Jongin’s.

“They can’t fake human blood,” you tell Kyungsoo and Baekhyun.

“We know. We figured that out after we killed a couple of them,” Baekhyun says. You wobble again on your feet but catch yourself. “We should get you guys back to the ship. You need medical attention.”

“I don't know what was in the gas they used on us, but I know that I’m going to pass out if I don’t get food and water soon,” Jongin says.

You nod in agreement and your knees buckle.

“Kyungsoo, carry me back I can’t feel my legs,” Chanyeol whines dramatically before draping himself over the shorter. Kyungsoo sighs but doesn’t put up much of a fight outside of grabbing a handful of Chanyeol’s hair and yanking it hard enough to pull a shout out of the taller.

Jongin shakes his head but a smile graces his lips as he follows behind them.

“Can you walk?” Baekhyun asks you.

You look away from the receding figures of the others to look at him. “I’m fine,” you murmur. He cocks an unbelieving eyebrow. Stubbornly you take a step forward.

And your knees nearly give in.

Baekhyun catches you before you can fall and laughs one of his stupid laughs where it fades off and he sounds like he’s swallowing a load of his own saliva. You let him toss your arm over his shoulder and hobble beside him like a newborn with little use of their legs.

His arm around your waist is secure and he’s patient as he leads you out the way he and Kyungsoo came in.

“Thank you,” you start quietly. “For coming back for us.”

“We couldn’t just let you die,” he scoffs out. “Yixing would have probably had me and my men killed without you and Junmyeon there as insurance to show we’re needed.”

You doubt that. Yixing wouldn’t do that. Minseok maybe, but not Yixing. But you keep that to yourself.

For now, you’ll just enjoy being given the chance to live another day. And if you also indulgently enjoy the warmth of Baekhyun at your side holding you up…well, no one has to know about that.