#his antler and ear both snapped clean off when he hit the floor

[blackbearmagic]

@ the cashier who gave me a funny look because I wanted to buy the ornament that I had accidentally dropped and broken: I told you a little super glue would make him right again.

[love-and-monsters]

Caged Fae

M Fae X F reader. 6,772 words

You encounter a Fae, chained and trapped as a carnival attraction. Angered by his captivity, you save him and take him to your home to recover. 

The carnival was in full swing. Sparkling strings of lights were hung across the fairgrounds, illuminating colorful tents, rides, and shops. A constant murmur of excited noise filled the air. Crowds of people worked their way through the activities and attractions. You meandered around, allowing yourself to be buffeted by the waves of people.

Initially, you’d been excited for the carnival. You had spent most of the evening preparing. And then you’d promptly been stood up.

You’d already paid to get into the carnival, so you didn’t want to just leave. On the other hand, wandering around the carnival, watching groups of people having a good time wasn’t exactly fun.

Uncomfortable and a little self-conscious, you moved away from the well-lit pathways and headed behind the main show tent. It was quieter there and less crowded. The only people there were workers, and they were all too busy setting up equipment or practicing their acts to pay attention to you, crouching in the shadows.

A throng of workers were gathered around what appeared to be a cage on wheels. Even from quite a distance, you could hear their excited chatter. One of the posters had advertised that he main attraction was some kind of strange creature. You crept a little closer, trying to crane your neck to get a look at it, but there were too many people around it.

“Hey!” A man in a ringmaster’s uniform came storming out of another tent. “Don’t you have something better to do than standing around and gaping? You have work! Get to it!”

The crowd scattered, but the cage was still shadowed enough that you couldn’t see any more than a vague shadow. The ringmaster rapped his showy cane against the bars, making the cage rattle. The shadowy figure didn’t move. The ringmaster snorted, turned on his heel, and walked away.

Once you were sure he was gone, you crept out of the shadows and approached the cage. The figure turned toward you as you approached and a shaft of light crossed, the cage, illuminating him.

You stopped dead. The figure in the cage was humanoid. He wore a long, green robe that only partially covered his chest. He was unnaturally pale, almost corpse-like, with shadows under his eyes and lips the color of bruises. His ears were pointed and his eyes glittered unnaturally in the light of the carnival. From the top of his head, amid his white hair, sprouted a pair of antlers.

The mysterious creature they had captured was one of the Fae.

\Your knees felt like water. You swayed, steadied yourself on the bars of the cage, and immediately yanked your hand away from the Fae. He stared at you levelly, not even making a motion to grab you or do anything else. His expression was completely passive and unaffected.

Your stomach churned as you looked at him. They’d captured a member of the Fair Folk. How had they even managed that? The Fae were notorious tricksters, and clever enough to fool almost any human. Capturing them was nearly impossible.

Impossible and dangerous. Every story you’d heard where Fae had been captured always ended with the Fae escaping and raining fury down on their captors. If you had any sense, you would leave the carnival and hide somewhere until they were safely far, far away.

And then the Fae shifted his weight and his hands moved into the beam of light.

Iron nails had been driven into each of his knuckles and his palm. Black veins spread from the punctures, down to the iron chains that bound his wrists. When he lifted his head to look at you, the chain around his neck jangled.

He looked at you for a moment, then leaned back into the cage. He looked tired, and hopeless. Seeing such a creature chained and confined felt sickening, like someone slowly twisting a knife in your guts.

You looked at the heavy padlock that held the cage shut. There was no way you could pull it off and you couldn’t imagine the key was anywhere easily accessible. You glanced around. Near one of the stakes holding the tents into the ground was a large, heavy mallet.

You seized it and returned to the cage. The Fae looked up at you, looking distantly curious. After taking a moment to line up the hit, you lifted the mallet and brought it back down.

The clang of metal on metal rang through the surrounding area. You cringed guiltily, looking around for any workers. No one was there. You looked back at the lock. The point of impact was obvious, but the lock wasn’t broken. You took in a deep breath and hit the lock again and again.

The Fae crept forward in the cage, looking at you with a more active interest. After the fifth hit, the lock snapped and fell away from the cage. You yanked the bars open and stepped inside.

The cage was not big enough for two people. There was no way for you to be in there without practically being in his lap. It felt wrong to be so close to such finery and you mumbled an apology. The Fae said nothing, just watched as you examined the chains.

There were three heavy chains attached to a bolt embedded in the wooden floor. There was no way the mallet would be enough to break the chains and trying to hit the manacles with it would just end up hurting him. Instead, you took the mallet to the floor around the bolt.

It took a few good hits, but the wood gradually splintered enough for you to pull the bolt free. You scrambled back out of the cage, tugging on the Fae’s sleeve.

He moved after you, then stumbled and fell, half tumbling out of the cage to land awkwardly on the ground. He let out a broken cry and your chest ached at the sound of it.

“We have to go!” you whispered, tugging on his arm. If no one had heard the noise, it was probably because the main show was starting, and people would be coming to get him soon. You had, at best, fifteen minutes until you were discovered.

The Fae sat up, shifting to look at his feet. You followed his gaze and your breath caught. Heavy, iron nails were driven through his feet. The sharp points protruded from the bottoms of his feet by at least half an inch. There was no way he was walking.

You scrambled back over to him and examined his feet. The wounds appeared to have healed over a long time ago, but the exertion had opened them again. Little rivulets of blood trickled out around the nails.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, taking hold of his ankle. “This is going to hurt a lot.” Carefully, you reached down and grabbed the top of the nail.

It was partially healed to his foot and there was a nasty noise as you started to pry the nail out. He made a strangled noise and shoved one of his flowing sleeves in his mouth to stifle the sound.

“Sorry,” you whispered. “Sorry, sorry!”

Blood started to flow freely again after you pulled both of the nails out. You tossed them away. The Fae sagged, pale skin looking mildly gray. But there was no time to rest.

“We have to go,” you said, tugging on his arm. He swayed, but he got to his feet. It must have hurt him, but he staggered after you, leaning heavily on you.

His chains jangled and dragged after him as you hurried toward the forest at the edge of the carnival grounds. After a moment, you stopped and gathered them up, quieting them. The Fae needed to lean heavily on you to move. You could feel the boniness of his body through his robe.

No sooner had you made it into the forest than you heard yelling and footsteps from behind you. “Shit,” you cursed, yanking on the Fae’s arm. “We need to move!”

Even with you half-dragging him along, he couldn’t go very fast. Walking through the woods on bare feet was bad enough- it must have been agonizing to do so with holes through them.

After a few minutes of working your way through the undergrowth, you dragged him into a thorny thicket and pressed yourself close to the ground. The Fae followed suit, pressing close to your side. Hopefully, it would be too shadowed for anyone to see you hiding.

You could hear angry, frightened shouting and the noise of many people running. A quick peek out of the bush showed the beginnings of a search party emerging from the carnival grounds. People were swinging lanterns and holding what you assumed were iron rods. You shrank back, holding onto the Fae’s arm. “Shh,” you warned him. “Stay quiet and still.”

He nodded and closed his eyes, pressing close to the ground. You did the same.

It was odd, being so close to a Fae. You could smell him, a scent like petrichor and a meadow in spring and an old forest. He seemed to exude an aura of power, one that made your hair stand on end just from being near him. No matter how human he looked, it was impossible to forget that he was not.

There was no real way to tell how long you lay in the cold dirt. You couldn’t see the moon or any light other than the occasional flashing of lanterns. It felt like several hours. Finally, the search party appeared to have moved on. You crept out of the bush, shaking out your stiff limbs. The Fae followed you, staying close to your side.

“Follow me,” you whispered, picking your way through the bushes. You stayed away from the trails and ducked back into the undergrowth at any signs of searchers. Finally, just as dawn started to break, you made it back to your house.

Fortunately, your house was a fair distance from the town, so sneaking him inside was easy. You helped him into your room, where he promptly made a beeline (a staggering, unsteady one, but a beeline nonetheless) for your bed and collapsed.

A flicker of protest started in your chest- it was your bed- but you figured he deserved a nice, soft place to rest. You went to your cabinet and fetched your first-aid kit.

The Fae stirred when you sat on the bed next to him. “Sorry,” you said. “I know you’re probably tired, but I need to dress those wounds.” He lowered his head again, allowing you to tend to his feet.

There wasn’t much you could do, as it turned out. Aside from cleaning the puncture wounds and wrapping them in bandages, there just wasn’t a way to fix anything. You added a salve to the areas rubbed raw with the iron, though you weren’t sure it would help much. His hair was matted and tattered, refusing to cooperate even when you tried to comb it. He barely twitched, even at particularly hard yanks.

He was asleep by the time you finished with him. All your prodding and pulling couldn’t have roused him. Satisfied that he would at least keep for the night, you returned your first-aid kit to a cabinet and gathered several blankets to create a nest for you to sleep in.

As it turned out, sleeping with an injured Fae in your house was difficult. Every little noise he made startled you back to wakefulness. Eventually, you gave up on trying to sleep and got up to make breakfast.

The Fae stirred at the smell of food. You heard him thumping around for several seconds before you poked your head into his room. He froze at the sight of you, blinking suspiciously.

“Hey,” you said in your most soothing voice. “It’s okay.”

He gave you a frustrated look and tugged at the chains around his neck. They jangled loudly and he bared his teeth in frustration. “Sit down,” you said, gesturing to the bed. “I’ll see if I can pick the lock off.”

Lockpicking wasn’t really in your skillset, but you’d seen it done before. It seemed like people just wriggled a hair clip or something around in the lock until it came undone. You fetched one of yours and settled close to him to try.

He sat perfectly still as you leaned into his neck. You could feel the little pick scraping at the inside of the lock. He still smelled faintly like a forest up close. It was a rather pleasant scent.

Finally, after several minutes of fiddling, you felt the pin catch on something. You tugged on the collar and, with a click, it came free. The Fae let out a sigh of relief and rubbed at his neck. You bent down to continue freeing his wrists.

He was silent throughout the process. It took a while to fully free him and kick the chains away. ‘There you go,” you said. “Must feel better?”

He nodded, rubbing the raw patches of his skin. “I can put more salve on it,” you suggested. He nodded again.

“You don’t talk much, do you?” you said as you returned to the room. The Fae blinked at you, then very slowly, he opened his mouth.

The first aid kit nearly slipped from your hands. He had no tongue. There was a red scar along the bottom of its mouth where it had been cut out.

He closed his mouth, looking a little smug that he’d managed to surprise you. “They took your tongue,” you said in horror. “Is it- will it grow back?”

The Fae shook his head. You sat heavily on the bed next to him.

“I’m sorry.” He looked at you in surprise. You wondered if he’d ever had a positive interaction with a human before. It didn’t seem likely, with him being in a cage.

You added more salve onto his abrasions. “I have food for you too,” you said. “Unless you don’t eat human food.” His stomach growled in answer and he winced. “Okay. I guess you’re hungry. I’ll get it for you.”

Given that he had no tongue, you were glad you’d made oatmeal for breakfast. You’d assumed he wouldn’t be up to eating anything too heavy. You added some strawberries to the bowl and brought it to his room.

He took a bite and closed his eyes, making a low noise in his throat. You saw tears gathering at his eyelashes before he blinked them away. How long had it been since he’d had the simple pleasure of sugar and good food? You couldn’t imagine he’d had any more than the most basic food when he’d been captured. The blissful look on his face made a lump rise in your throat.

He ate slowly, savoring every bite. Watching him have such blissful enjoyment over something so simple almost made you enjoy your simple meal more.

As soon as you were done, he slumped back into bed and closed his eyes. You hadn’t been expecting him to stay up very long. He seemed thoroughly exhausted and you were more than willing to let him sleep off the injuries.

He spent a lot of time after that sleeping. You went about your business, gardening and gathering materials for your weaving as usual, carving out time to check on him and redress his injuries.

For the first few days, it was barely like having a guest at all. He spent most of his time sleeping, waking only to eat the broth and oatmeal you offered him. He seemed enamored with the strawberries you’d grown, taking his time to eat each one when you offered them.

Gradually, he spent more and more time awake. His sleeping pattern was irregular, to put it mildly. Often, you would be awake for several hours before he would rise and you woke several times in the middle of the night to find him gazing vacantly out the window.

He moved as silent as a ghost even during the day. You would turn from gathering fruit from your garden to find him standing in the window watching you, or you would look up from weaving to find him standing over you. He never seemed to want anything in particular when you asked. He would simply watch you for a time, then wander off.

The wounds from the chains healed rapidly. Within a few days, they had almost entirely vanished. The wounds of his feet took significantly longer. They had scabbed over, but the holes were deep and keeping him in bed and off his feet seemed impossible. You would sit him down and remind him that rest was important for healing and he would nod understandingly, then you would find him wandering through the garden. Eventually, you gave up.

It did not help that he seemed to have some issues with shoes and socks. You would explain to him the importance of wearing shoes to protect his still-healing feet and he would look at you and nod patiently and then he would walk outside barefoot again.

The longer he stayed with you, the healthier he looked. His skinny frame filled out a little, his skin became smooth and flawless, and, with a little care, his hair went sleek and shiny.

It also became impossible to ignore that he was Fae. A faint halo of light seemed to constantly shimmer around him and standing near him made your hair stand on end. The smell of petrichor and grass grew stronger, until it nearly filled the whole house. And that wasn’t even counting what he was doing to your garden.

Your plants grew thick and lush with almost no encouragement and several of them bloomed and fruited ahead of schedule. The blooms were enormous and vibrant, the fruit rich with sweetness. Often, you would see him wandering through the garden at night, and the plants seemed to stretch toward him.

“Do you have a name?” you eventually asked. It had been a few days since he’d come to stay with you and you didn’t have anything to call him other than ‘the Fae’.

He looked at you with his deep, midnight-blue eyes. You had attempted to communicate through writing, but he couldn’t read. Communication was, obviously, limited, especially because he was fairly inexpressive.

“I need something I can call you,” you said. The Fae tilted his head a little, then stood up and walked away into the garden. A moment later, he returned, holding a plant in his hands.

You took it from him. “Yarrow?” you said. “Is that what you want to be called?” He nodded. “Yarrow. Okay.”

He held his hand out and you returned the flower to him. Immediately, he took a chunk of your hair and carefully weaved the flower into it. He tucked it behind your ear and gave a small, satisfied nod before staring back into the garden.

You brushed your fingers over the flower. “Thank you,” you said. His gaze flickered to you, then away again.

As he healed, he grew more adventurous. Well, for a certain measure of adventurous. He would open your cabinets and pull objects out, examining them with mild interest. Several times you had woken up to find him pulling apart some of your objects.

“That’s my loom!” you protested one morning when you found him sitting amongst the pieces. He had carefully dismantled it, the parts sitting in organized piles around him. “What are you doing?”

Yarrow gave no protest as you pulled the object out of his hands. He allowed you to take it, then stood and wandered off into the house. Fortunately, he had been neat in taking it apart and it didn’t take long to reassemble. Still. You wondered if there was some way you could get him to stop going through your things.

It wasn’t all bad. You had woken up to find your thread collection entirely reorganized one morning, and you were pretty sure every coin in your house had been located and sorted into neat piles for you. And there were other small changes, ones you weren’t entirely sure could be attributed to him, but it felt right. Inspiration came more easily and your woven pieces seemed unusually lifelike and beautiful. You had a small pile of them you were sure could fetch high prices. Not that you’d been going to the market much. You didn’t want to leave Yarrow alone in your house.

Still, you couldn’t live on the fruits from your garden forever and you were starting to get dangerously low on supplies. The coins Yarrow had found meant you could take a few more days off before money became an issue, but you at least needed to buy some basics.

“You’re going to be all right on your own?” you asked him. He nodded, expression as serious and reserved as ever. “You’re sure?” Another nod. “Okay. I’ll be back soon. Just don’t break anything and stay inside, all right?”

He reached out and squeezed your hands in his for a moment. Then he released them with a gentle push toward the door. “All right. See you later, then.”

You walked down the hall to the front door, opened it, and nearly walked into the large, imposing man that was standing there. He looked down at you, one hand poised as if to knock.

“Hello there, miss,” he said. You took a step back to get a better look at him. He was wearing the standard dark gray uniform of the village police, with a shiny silver badge attached to his chest. Another man in the same uniform was standing to his left and to his right-

Your stomach twisted into a heavy knot and dropped into your pelvis. It was the ringmaster of the carnival.

“Can I help you with something, officer?” you said, raising your voice a little. Hopefully Yarrow would get the hint and stay in your room.

“Well, we’re just doing a little check around the neighborhood,” he said. His voice was light and friendly, but you could see his eyes scanning the room over your head. One of his hands clamped down on the ringmaster’s shoulder. “See, this gentleman here has reported that there’s a Fae loose in the area. Dangerous creatures, you know. And some people in town mentioned they hadn’t seen you recently. They were worried, you see. Usually you’re at market a few times during the week, but they haven’t seen you in days.”

“I haven’t been feeling well,” you said hurriedly. “I was actually just about to head there now. If that’s all you’ll be needing?”

The officer gave a heavy sigh. “As I said, miss, we have reason to suspect there might be a Fae in the area. We’ve been doing a sweep around here, just making sure everything’s in its place. Mind if we come in?”

Your heart had started to pound against your ribs like it was trying to break free. Let them in and risk discovery. Turn them away and guarantee increased suspicion. Which one was the right choice?

You must have hesitated for a moment too long, because the mild expression on the officer’s face sharpened into a frown. “Miss? Is everything all right?”

Panic surged through you and fogged your brain. “Yes! Everything’s fine.” You stepped back from the doorway and, apparently taking this as an invitation, the officer stepped inside, followed by his partner and the ringmaster. “I’m afraid there’s no one else here right now, though,” you said, deliberately making your voice a little too loud. Hopefully Yarrow would take the hint. “I can’t help you much.”

The pair of policemen stood in your kitchen. You shuffled over to your bedroom door. It was mostly closed, and you couldn’t think of a way to fully close it without being obviously suspicious. You were just going to have to hope they ignored it.

One of the officers peeked out the window. You saw his eyebrows lift slowly. “Nice garden,” he said. “Very green.”

“Thank you! I’ve had it for a while. I’m really proud of the strawberry bushes. They’ve been really big this year.” Your voice was rapid and high-pitched with nerves. The officer’s eyes narrowed a little.

“I didn’t think it was the season for salmonberries yet,” he said in a voice that was a calculated sort of casual. “Seems odd that they’re blooming.”

A sliver of sweat slid down your neck and under your collar. “It’s been warm this summer,” you said. You couldn’t keep the tremble entirely out of your voice. “Sometimes they’re a little early.” You edged away from your room and, a little desperate to distract them, gestured toward your raspberry bush. “You know, if you’d like, I could give you something from my garden. I’ve honestly got more than I can eat and with all the work you put into keeping our town safe-”

The creak of hinges sounded behind you. You whirled around to see the ringmaster pushing open the door. “Hey!” you protested, nerves clogging your throat, “that’s my room!”

He was already inside. Yarrow, apparently unable to take a hint, was sitting on your bed, out in the open, looking at the ringmaster with open derision. You froze, your eyes darting between the two of them, just waiting for someone to make a move.

The ringmaster’s eyes locked on the Fae. You sucked in a sharp breath, tightening your hands into fists. You could fight him. At the very least, you could do your best to protect Yarrow.

And then the ringmaster’s eyes slid right off him and traveled across the room. There was no sign he’d seen anything there at all.

You thought quickly. “Do you mind? This is my room, and unless you have some kind of authority to be snooping around my house, I think you should get out.”

The ringmaster cast a suspicious look at your wardrobe, as if wondering if the Fae was hiding inside. But still, he turned to leave. As he did so, Yarrow rose to his feet and snagged the ringmaster’s arm. He only caught it for a moment before releasing it, and the ringmaster glanced around and, apparently decided he had caught his sleeve on your bedframe. With a disconcerted look, he scurried out of your room. You hesitated, giving Yarrow a wary look. His expression gave nothing away. He lifted a finger to his lips. You did the same to show your agreement and hurried from the room.

The officer cleared his throat. “Well, seems that things are all in order here,” he said. The ringmaster slunk back over to him and you caught the tiniest shake of his head. “Just keep an eye out, miss. Wouldn’t want you to be harmed by any rogue Fae out here.”

You smiled, trying to keep the abject relief from showing on your face. “Of course, I’ll let you know if I see anything. Thank you for your concern.”

You kept a smile plastered on your face until the men had left your house, then you promptly collapsed to the ground. Yarrow emerged from your room and tilted his head at you. You looked up at him. “He couldn’t see you,” you said. Yarrow shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips. “You scared the life out of me. I thought you were going to get us caught.”

Yarrow crossed the room and crouched down next to you. He put one of his hands over his. His skin was oddly soft, almost velvety smooth. He patted your hand, then reached down and lifted your bundle for market, pressing it into your hands.

“Right. I still have to go,” you said. Yarrow kept a hold of your hand, pulling you to your feet. You hesitated for a moment and he gave you a gentle nudge. “Okay, I’m going, I’m going.”

You left the house, glancing over your shoulder every few seconds. The curtains in your window shifted and you thought you saw Yarrow peeping at you before he retreated into the house. You gave a faint smile before picking up your pace and heading to market

The house was still standing when you returned. It was a minor relief. Yarrow was sitting in the middle of your house, fiddling with your old spinning wheel.

“Where’d you get that from?” you asked, dropping your bag next to the door. His gaze flicked to you for a moment before returning to the wheel. He seemed to be tinkering with something, but you had no idea what. “Did you pull that out of the closet? It used to be my mother’s. I’ve never used it.” If he was paying attention, he didn’t show it. He just kept fiddling away.

That night, when you were out in your garden, you caught the smell of smoke nearby. Above the treeline, from where the carnival had been, you could see dark plumes of gray and even a few flickers of orange flame. Yarrow was watching it too, eyes narrowed.

“Did you do that?” you asked. Yarrow shifted his eyes to you, then looked back at the fire. His expression was tight, eyes narrowed. You felt a shiver crawl down the length of your spine.

Given that he seemed capable of amusing himself at home without destroying anything, you felt more comfortable taking your wares to market. The surge in popularity was small, but unmistakable. There was no denying that your works seemed to catch more eyes than they had before. More people stopped by and ran your weavings through their fingers. By the end of the day, you had sold more than half your wares, which was an unusually strong sale. You made your way back home, tired, but happy.

Yarrow was sprawled in the garden. You brought him out some broth before sitting next to him. “Sold a lot today,” you said casually. Yarrow’s eyes flicked to you. He took a deep drink from the bowl. He generally refused to use spoons, preferring to drink directly from the bowl. “You didn’t have something to do with that, did you?”

He turned his head toward you, but gave no indication one way or the other. You chuckled at his serious expression. “You’re not going to tell me, are you?” He turned his gaze back to the soup. “Fine. I guess the Fae are usually secretive, aren’t they?”

Despite his serious, reserved nature, it was pleasant to have someone else in the house. His presence was nice, and, even if he was prone to taking your things apart, he was otherwise unobtrusive. The longer he stayed and healed, the more keenly you were aware that you were going to miss him when he left.

There was a sort of sinking sensation in your chest when you unwrapped the bandages from his feet for the last time. It had been nearly a fortnight since he had come to stay with you, and the holes had finally healed to nothing more than round, pink scars. You tested them a few times, a prodding and poking that Yarrow submitted himself to without any complaint.

“Well, that’s it,” you said, finally releasing his feet and allowing him to walk around. “You’re all better.”

Yarrow nodded at you. You had half expected him to immediately head for the door once you gave him the all clear, but he made no motion to go. Instead, he meandered over to your spinning wheel and started to fiddle with it again.

He’d been doing that every day, fussing around with the wheel. You weren’t sure what he was trying to do. You’d explained to him how it worked, but he had simply listened to your explanation, then gone back to toying with it. He didn’t seem to want any more help, so you’d left him to it.

You kept an eye on him as he did whatever he wanted around the house. He seemed unusually fidgety, and he kept checking the sun. “Are you all right?” you asked him. He waved a hand at you, driving off concern.

By the end of the day, he was staring out the window constantly. You got the general sense he was waiting for something. They said gates to Faerie only opened at certain times. Maybe that was what he was waiting for. If he went back, you would probably never see him again.

You walked up next to him, letting your shoulders brush. Yarrow looked at you. “I’m going to miss you,” you said. “When you go back home.”

Yarrow blinked at you. He patted his hand on yours, then headed outside.

You followed him, though you hung a small distance back. As much as you wanted to see him off, you were aware that interfering with a Fae ritual could easily give a fate worse than death.

The moon was just starting to rise. It hung enormous on the horizon, sending pale rays of light over the garden. Yarrow moved to a small clearing between the plants and stopped, tapping his bare feet on the ground. Under the moonlight, his hair and antlers seemed to glow silver. He stood still for a moment, swaying back and forth to some unheard tune, then he began to dance.

It seemed a practiced dance. The steps were clear and confident, made with ease. It seemed to be a sort of jig, involving small hops and rotations that gradually took him in a large, loose circle.

As he passed closer to you, you saw something in his hands. A pan pipe, you realized, whittled out of rough wood. Once he had completed the first circle, he lifted the pipes to his lips and began to play.

An eerie tune floated over the garden. It was low and mournful, one that brought tears to your eyes. For several rotations, the mournful tune continued. It grew slower and sadder the longer it went on, like he was running out of energy. The shrill noise of the pipe droned on and on. Your hair stood on end. It sounded almost like a scream.

The tune changed. It was no longer shrill and scared and mournful. A few bright, hopeful notes appeared, then more, gradually changing the tune until it was all excited, joyous noise. The song grew stronger and his dance became mor energetic.

The ground seemed to tremble around him. You glanced at the garden. The plants seemed to be shifting. As you watched, one of them burst into bloom all at once. Then another and another.

Yarrow spun in a large circle as the song swelled. The tune had changed, becoming a bounding, joyous song that made involuntary laughter swell in your chest. The tune lifted and lifted and Yarrow came to a stop in the center of the garden as it fully creschendoed. The last few plants burst into bloom, surrounding him with colorful petals. The last few notes of the song slowed, settling from overwhelming joy into satisfied contentment, then faded into silence.

Yarrow opened his eyes and blinked across the garden at you. His gaze was steady, but you could see the question in it. Did you like it?

“It was beautiful,” you said. As parting gifts went, it was one of the better ones you had ever received. Without thinking, you crossed the garden in a few quick steps and threw your arms around him. He smelled the same way he always did, like a forest and petrichor, with just a hint of fragrance from the flowers. For a moment, you thought he wouldn’t respond. Then his arms snaked around you and he gave a reassuring squeeze.

You stepped back. The moon was much higher than it had been. You must have stood outside for longer than you thought. Still, you kept a hold of his hands, unwilling to let them go.

“Goodbye,” you said. Yarrow reached up and stroked your hair tentatively, then stepped away. You sniffed. You were not going to cry in front of him, no matter how much you wanted to.

With a final squeeze of his hands, you turned and walked into the house. You didn’t want to watch him leave.

You weren’t sure how long it took you to fall asleep, but you woke to the click-clack of a spinning wheel turning.

It took you a moment to recognize the sound. Confused and still a little bit sleepy, you got out of bed and walked into the main room.

Yarrow was sitting at the spinning wheel, feeding some sort of fiber into it. He glanced up at you and gave a small tilt of his head in acknowledgement.

You gaped at him. “You’re still here?” He gave you a small nod and a slightly amused smile, as if asking ‘where else would I be?’

He turned back to the spinning wheel and continued with his work. You walked around him, peering at the spindle. Coiled around it was shimmering golden thread.

You felt your mouth fall open. Golden thread. you looked at his hands. Straw. Or hay. There were myths of Fae spinning straw into gold for humans, but you’d never actually seen one of them do it before.

Yarrow paused in his spinning and looked at you. He seemed to be waiting for you to say something. “I thought you were going home,” you said finally. “I wasn’t expecting you to stay.”

He looked up into your face, then stood. One of his hands ghosted the side of your face. Your breath caught at his touch. After a moment, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to the center of your forehead.

Oh. Oh. You felt your heart stutter and you felt rather faint for a moment. Yarrow pulled back, looking down at you with some concern. “You want to stay here,” you said, startled with the realization. “You want to stay with me?”

Yarrow’s chest trembled and he made a strange, musical noise. It was his laughter, you realized. His voice was beautiful and flowing, like a river pouring over stones. You laughed too. His voice was so light and pretty, you couldn’t have helped it. Yarrow squeezed your hands and lifted your knuckles to his lips, brushing them with the lightest of kisses.

“I’m glad you’re staying,” you said. Yarrow smiled and gave a small, polite nod before returning to his spinning. You watched him for a moment before sitting and gathering your weaving supplies.

The air filled with the soft sounds of work. Then, you heard it. Yarrow was humming.

The melody was soft and pleasant. It made you think of lazy summer days, with peaceful bumblebees and meadows of sweet flowers. Almost without thinking, you moved to your stash of fibers and set about weaving that scene into a tapestry.

The tapestry was finished a few days later. Yarrow looked at it admiringly. His golden thread was wound into it for a subtle touch, and the way it caught the light made the whole thing seem lifelike. It captured the scene of a summer garden, with flowers in full bloom, and a Fae man with antlers playing a pipe.

“It’s beautiful,” you said. “We make a good team.”

Yarrow nodded with great enthusiasm. He had been spinning a variety of jewel-like threads and winding them into your work made for a striking contrast. More than that, you had found constant inspiration in his presence and his songs. You weren’t sure if it was Fae magic or if you simply found him inspiring on his own, but you had several sketches for designs you wanted to try in the future.

“Thank you,” you said. Yarrow gave you a questioning look. “For helping me. And… for staying. It’s nice to have someone else here with me.”

Yarrow tapped his foot, then tapped your chest. “Are you saying we’re even?” you asked. A nod. “Does that mean you’re going to leave now? Since we’re even?” Fae needed to make deals even, you knew that.

Yarrow shook his head. He leaned back on the ground, eyes closed. You lay back next to him. “You’re staying?” you asked. Yarrow nodded again, narrow chin dipping toward his chest. He tilted his head toward you and lifted his brows. “Yeah. I’m staying here, too. It’s nice, having someone else around.”

Yarrow began to hum again. You closed your eyes and leaned back. His notes were soft and warm and you could smell the strawberries outside. The quiet peace of hazy summer surrounded you entirely.

[nikibogwater]

Shedding Layers--a Tales of Arcadia fanfiction

“There is a piece of Nari’s head on the sofa!”

Winter has hit New York City, and unfortunately for Douxie, Nari forgot to tell him something important about the season.

Another ToA fic about the Magical Siblings and their Therapy Cat, done partly in collaboration with @poetryinmotion-author (thank you for all the help! ❤). I am SO excited to share this one, you guys. It was a real treat to work on. 

Read on Ao3

Or under the cut:

Winter had finally settled on New York City. The freezing air bit like a wild animal, and depending on the day, there was often either rain, sleet, or snow driving against the windows of the apartment. Douxie kept a space heater running twenty-four hours a day now, but even so, Nari spent most of her time huddled beneath a stack of comforters. The yearning for freedom that had tormented her mere weeks ago was long gone. Now, she wanted nothing more than to burrow into her pillow and doze the day away. Douxie had been understandably concerned at first, but she assured him that it was quite normal for her to go into something of a hibernation state come winter. She always made a point to be awake when he came home from work, and between his and Archie’s company, and the wonderfully soft cocoon of blankets Douxie had provided for her, she could honestly say that this winter wasn’t nearly as terrible as she would have expected. 

Then came a particularly gloomy Tuesday morning in November when Nari awoke to a telltale tingling feeling at the top of her skull. She groaned and pushed her face deeper into the pillow. She had forgotten about her yearly shed. It usually only took a day or so, but it was always so uncomfortable. It started with the base of her antlers itching. Then as the limbs slowly began to come loose, they would wobble around on top of her head, causing a very unpleasant feeling of imbalance until they finally broke clean off. The top of her head would be a little sore for a few days afterwards as well. Still, there was nothing for it but to just wait it out. She tugged her blanket cocoon tighter around her shoulders and snuggled back down again. 

She didn’t have the chance to go back to sleep before she felt Douxie’s hand touch her shoulder, and she emerged from her burrow just enough to peer at him with one sleepy eye. 

“Hey, sorry,” he said softly. “I was going to leave a note, but then I felt your aura waking up, so I thought I’d just tell you: I’m working a double shift today. Going to be pretty late, so don’t stay up waiting for me. Make sure you eat today. It’s supposed to be overcast until after dark. Archie will be here, but I want you to call me if anything happens, alright?” 

“Mmm...I will be fine,” Nari mumbled, clumsily disentangling one of her hands from the blankets to pat Douxie’s where it still rested on her shoulder. It felt like he told her the same thing every morning, but she supposed that as her guardian, he was entitled to a little fussing. “Have a good day.” She felt Douxie’s aura glow warmly as he squeezed her shoulder before letting go. He tucked the blankets around her snugly before straightening and zipping up his hoodie. Nari heard him cross the floor, pause to scratch Archie behind the ears and throw on his heavy winter coat, and then with a jingle of keys, the click of the door, and the soft hum of magic as he activated the protective seals, he was gone. Nari lay awake for a while afterwards, feeling his soul as it traveled, until she could sense that he had safely arrived at the bookstore where he worked. With a satisfied sigh, she pressed her face as deep into the pillow as she could, wincing as the base of her antlers gave a tingly throb of protest, and went back to sleep. 

*****

“In my opinion, the leader of the town should have lost more than just her arm. They should have given her a fitting villain’s death.” 

Nari glanced over at Archie, who was perched on the back of the sofa by her shoulder, watching the credits roll for the movie they had just finished. 

“But she was kind to her own people, Archie,” Nari argued, swirling her mug of cocoa for a moment before taking a sip. “Perhaps she was consumed by her hatred for the forest, but I do not think she deserved death. It was better that she suffer the loss of her arm and learn from it.” She drained the last of her cocoa and set the empty mug on the floor, grimacing as her antlers jostled on top of her head. 

“Are you alright?” Archie asked as she leaned back in her seat, pulling her arm out of the comforter she was wrapped in and massaging the base of her left antler with her fingers. “You’ve been scratching your head all day. You don’t have fleas, do you?” He began to draw away from her warily. 

“No,” Nari giggled. “It is just my yearly shed. It always makes me itch.” 

“You shed your antlers in the winter?” Archie resumed his place by her head, staring up at the limbs in question with curiosity. “I didn’t know that.” 

“It never came up,” she replied, wiggling her left antler experimentally. “This one seems almost ready.” Archie reached out a paw and gingerly prodded the extremity. It wobbled again, and his pupils expanded with interest. 

“Yes, I should say so...” he murmured distractedly, batting it a little more forcefully. Nari giggled again as he sat up on his hind legs and swiped with both paws. 

There was a wooden creak, and then a snap, like the sound of a branch being broken. Archie lept back as the antler dislodged from Nari’s head and tumbled down into her lap. There was an awkward beat or two of dead silence. Nari was the first to break it.

“That is one down,” she sighed in relief, picking up the dead limb and turning it over in her hands. “I am not sure what to do with this, though. Do you want it?” she asked, looking up at Archie. He slid down from the back of the couch and sniffed the offering, considering it for a moment. 

“...No, thank you,” he said at last. “It is significantly less interesting when it’s not attached to your head.” 

“Maybe Douxie will know what to do with it.” Nari set the antler down beside her and stretched her arms above her head with a wide yawn. Outside, the wind shrieked, and a fresh flurry of snow flashed in the glare of the city lights. “I wish he was home,” she murmured. “It is an awful night to be out.” 

“Yes, I certainly don’t envy him just now,” Archie replied, jumping to the floor and stretching his own legs. “But don’t worry about him. He’ll be alright. Wizards are very resilient, you know.” 

“His soul is already tired,” she whispered, closing her eyes as she reached out with her magic, feeling the weary glow of his aura. “He always works too hard...” 

“Yes...” Archie sighed, his ears folding back slightly. “He does.” The Familiar shook himself and looked back up at Nari with a reassuring smile. “But that’s a problem for the daylight hours, hm? You look ready to keel over.” He shifted into his dragon form, picked up her empty cocoa mug between his paws, and flew it over to the kitchen sink. He came back to the sofa and nudged Nari’s head where it was beginning to droop against the armrest. “Come on. Don’t want you falling asleep here and getting a sore neck.” Nari hummed sleepily and eased off of the sofa with another yawn. Archie turned off the television and the overhead lights, then slipped back into his cat form and crossed the room to Nari’s bed, where she was creeping beneath the covers. Once she had properly secured herself in her blanket cocoon, the cat curled up against the crook of her legs, and with the sound of his gentle purring in her ears, she quickly drifted off to sleep. 

****

A few hours later, Nari was violently torn from slumber by a sudden, sickening pulse of ice-cold terror that pierced her aura like one of Skreal’s icy daggers. It was accompanied by the sound of Douxie frantically crying her name, his voice twisted with fear. The wood nymph yelped and blindly tumbled out of bed, accidentally throwing Archie off of her in the process, who yowled in surprise as he landed on the floor next to her. Nari struggled with the blankets wrapped around her, disoriented and somewhat panicked, and felt her powers seizing up, preparing for a fight. Surely only the return of the Arcane Order could make Douxie sound so petrified. Before she had the chance to disentangle herself, or even ask what was happening, he sprinted across the room, dropped to his knees beside her, and ripped the blankets off of her. Ignoring her second yelp in response to the sudden exposure to the cold, he grabbed her face between his trembling hands and frantically looked her up and down, hazel eyes blown wider than she had ever seen before. 

“What happened?!” he demanded in a horrified whisper. “Were you attacked? Where else are you hurt?” He didn’t give her a chance to answer before turning his attention to Archie, who was emerging from underneath the bed where he had taken shelter. “Archie, are you alright? Was it the Order?” 

“For goodness’ sake, Douxie, calm down!” Archie ordered a tad irately, readjusting his skewed glasses. “What has you all upset?” 

“What has me...?” Douxie stared at his Familiar incredulously. “There is a piece of Nari’s head on the sofa!” He thrust his hand out and pointed at the piece of furniture in question--Nari’s left antler was laying innocently right where she had left it earlier. 

“...Oh,” Nari squeaked, both relieved and embarrassed. Douxie returned his attention to her, now clutching her tightly by the shoulders. “No, we were not attacked. It just fell off earlier today.” She had been hoping he would find this information reassuring, but if anything, he looked even more aghast. 

“It just....fell off?!” he echoed hysterically. “What do we...D-do we call a doctor? Or a vet? Who are you supposed to call for this kind of thing?!” 

“Nobody! I am perfectly fine, Douxie!” She grabbed one of his hands in both of hers and squeezed, trying to send a wave of calm into his frantically churning aura. “This happens every year.” Douxie’s eyes moved from her face, up to her one remaining antler, and then over to Archie, as though looking for a second opinion. 

“Most antlered creatures have what’s called a shed around this time of the year,” Archie said in a calming, matter-of-fact voice. “It’s perfectly natural, and it doesn’t harm them. It’s really no surprise that Nari experiences the same thing.”

“And it will grow back!” Nari added hopefully, squeezing his hand again. “So please do not worry.” There was a somewhat uncomfortable pause, during which the only sound was Douxie’s labored breathing, which gradually became slower and softer. Finally, he seemed to deflate, the tension in his aura dispersing as he heaved an enormous sigh. A moment later, he gave a mirthless chuckle and gently pulled Nari into an embrace.

“...Fuzzbuckets,” he muttered. “I think I just aged three centuries.” 

“I’m sorry,” Nari whispered into his shoulder. “I should have warned you. I just forgot all about it.” 

“Does it hurt?” he asked, easing her back enough to see the top of her head.

“...A little,” she admitted, hating the way Douxie’s aura paled as she said it. “But it will be fine in just a day or two.” He gave her a sympathetic look and gently ran his hand over the top of her head, fingers ghosting delicately across the small bump where her antler once grew.

“It will grow back?” he questioned anxiously. “For sure?” 

“Yes,” Nari assured him. “Sometime in the spring.” Douxie’s aura settled a little more at the reassurance, but he continued to look despondent as he stared at her. “...What’s wrong?” she asked nervously.

“...It’s just...You’re....lopsided,” he stammered, looking embarrassed. 

“Oh.” She reached up and felt her one remaining antler, wiggling it experimentally. “Wait, perhaps I can...” She tugged on it gently and felt it begin to break away from her skull. Douxie gaped at her in abject horror as she pried the limb off of her head with a sound like that of wood peeling. With a final crack, the antler was in her hands, and a bare-headed Nari smiled up at him hopefully. “Is this better?” 

It took the shocked wizard a long time to find his words, as his eyes flicked between the top of her head and the dead limb she cradled in her hands.

“...I think I’m going to be sick,” he mumbled, one of his hands coming up to cover his mouth.

“Don’t be rude, Douxie,” Archie scolded as Nari visibly shrank with disappointment. “This is a perfectly ordinary process for her.” 

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Douxie muttered, hastily pulling the small demigoddess back into his arms. “S’just been a day. Someone was signing books at the store today, and the crowds were absolutely ludicrous, I haven’t been able to sit down since lunch this afternoon, and then I come home to find out Nari is losing bits of her head...” He trailed off with a heaving sigh and rest his cheek against her hair. “...I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.” 

Nari tossed the antler aside and folded her arms around him. “My poor Douxie,” she whispered, pressing him against her tightly. He sighed again--this time in relief--as her aura wrapped around his, sharing her warmth and energy, and easing some of the tiredness that was weighing down his limbs. 

“...Thanks,” he breathed as she pulled back. She looked a bit drained, but pleased, as she gave him a nod and smile. He ruffled her hair gently, still mindful of the sore patches where her antlers had broken off. “...There isn’t....anything else like this that I should know about, is there?” he asked hesitantly.

Nari was about to tell him no, when she caught sight of Archie’s golden eyes staring up at her with a mischievous gleam. He gave her a conspiratorial grin and a slight nod. “Well,” she began slowly, looking back at Douxie. “...I do secrete a deadly toxin from beneath my fingernails if I am agitated.” 

All of the blood immediately drained from Douxie’s face.

“...What?” The wood nymph burst into a fit of squeaky giggles, while next to her, Archie collapsed onto his stomach and howled with laughter. “...This is abuse,” Douxie groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Do you realize how many beats my heart just skipped? You’re bloody psychopaths, the both of you.” 

“It’s your own fault for making it so easy,” Archie retorted, while next to him, Nari was trying to gasp out an apology between her giggles. Douxie huffed and gave his Familiar a playful shove. 

“Would a cup of tea make up for it?” Nari asked, once she was able to regain control of herself. 

“It would be a good start, at least,” Douxie replied with a fond grin. 

Ten minutes later found the three of them on the sofa, mugs in hand, Nari wrapped up in her favorite blanket once more and curled against Douxie’s side, Archie sitting on the wizard’s lap and purring like a small engine.

“...I don’t suppose you have any idea what we should do with those?” Douxie asked, nodding towards the pair of antlers now resting neatly on the island countertop.

“I was hoping you would,” Nari confessed, taking a sip of her tea. “I have always just left them wherever they happened to drop. I liked to imagine they would bring good luck to whoever found them.” She smiled ruefully into her mug. “I suppose that is rather childish of me.” 

“I like that idea,” Douxie said firmly. “Tell you what: I don’t have to go in to work until four tomorrow. We’ll eat out for lunch and then find a nice back alley to leave them in, where some poor sod can find them and pick up a bit of good fortune. Sound good?” He glanced at her sideways, his expression soft and his aura glowing with a gentle affection that, even after four months, Nari still sometimes struggled to process. She gave him a shy smile and nodded, pressing her face into the side of his shoulder as her fingers tightened around her tea mug. The wind howled outside, and Archie continued to purr.

Yes, winter here was downright pleasant, Nari decided, as long as you had a family to share it with.

[itsatheena]

Vox x Alastor oneshot NSFW

No matter how many times they did this, beforehand was always as awkward as a highschool reunion that was poorly set up. Maybe this was poorly set up? No, it couldn't be. Vox had everything set up just fine, the bed had clean sheets with red petals scattered over them, candles lit here and there but not close enough to set fire to something if one of them was to knock one down. Alastor pondered if they were safe for wax play which led him to decide who would get it. As much as Alastor loved pain he wouldn't want to be seen as a sub, especially not to someone he hates. Speaking of the hated one he finally enters the room, closing the door promptly behind him.

“sorry I'm late, I had to-” Vox began, Alastor pressed a finger to the other demon's TV screen where his lips would be.

“there's no need… “ Alastor gently kisses the screen, both surprising and teasing Vox. “To explain yourself” He continued with another kiss, harder this time. Vox melted in to it for he had a plan, he wasn't gonna be the one walking funny for a week this time.

Vox let his hands wonder to the band of Alastor's dress trousers, he let his fingers slide in under the belt, snaking their way in to the radio demon's pants. Alastor chuckled, sensing the TV Demon’s submission. He could smell it on him and he loved it. Alastor couldn't wait to ruin him. Alastor could tell that wasn't too far away as he watched his pants fall to the floor. His eyes widen in a lust filled hunger as he watched the other demon. Vox put out an arm to stroke Alastor's antlers, Alastor's ears twitch with a new found feeling. He enjoyed the feeling but couldn't help but feel like an unruly puppy.

The radio demon snaps his partner's hands up in his own, holding them in a tight Dominant grip. “Stop” he lets an intimidating smirk grow on his face. Vox nods, sliding his aching hands from the others grip before they lost all circulation entirely. Vox says nothing more before lowering to his knees, facing Alastor's front. Alastor felt his excitement growing as Vox ran his palm against Alastor's member which rose to the occasion. Vox let a smile spread across his own face. He looked up at Alastor who matched his grin. Vox ran his hands down Alastor's body, pulling down the Other's Underwear in the process, Alastor's hard cock sprung out before Vox. No matter how many times Vox had seen the radio demon's lower region the size had always shocked him, one of the reasons, besides from looking like a real bottom bitch, why vox hated being the sub. Last time they got together in their arrangement was when Vox lost the fight and was pinned brutally against the bed and fucked ruthlessly until his legs felt like jelly. He enjoyed it, not that he'd ever admit it but the aftermath was certainly not enjoyable, worth it but not enjoyable because everytime he sat down a sharp pain ran down his ass and vox was told that he walked funny for at least a week after.

The TV demon snapped himself back in to reality, bringing Alastor's body closer to his as he took what he could of Alastor's member in to his mouth. Vox expertly spread his mouth, allowing more of the radio demon's cock to slide down his throat. He avoided catching his needle sharp teeth on the radio demon's shaft as he began to suck. Alastor felt the pleasure run from his legs to his entire body as Vox continued. In reaction to this Alastor rocked his hips to meet Vox’s lips, slamming him down on to his member, forcing Vox to take the rest of it down his throat. It grazed against the TV Demon’s teeth briefly, Alastor ignored the streak of pain. If anything it allowed him to get off even more, vox felt a little blood in his mouth from the bleeding area but licked it up as the radio demon watched. Their eyes met for a quick moment as Alastor continues to mouth fuck his play thing. He ran his own hand through his hair and moaned slightly. Vox sucked harder to get more reactions from him, it worked as Alastor placed a hand on the TV demon's head.

Vox wanted Alastor to finish quickly to put his plan in action he just prayed to Lucifer it'd work…

Vox put the thought to the back of his head and Alastor's cock to back of his throat. He got more satisfying moans from him and some signals that the radio demon was nearing his end. Vox felt the cock twitch in his mouth so he sucked harder in hopes that it would send Alastor over the edge. This worked, the radio demon let out a gasp, gripping the TV demon's head as he released in the Other's mouth. Vox felt it fill his cavern and swallowed it almost instinctively. A little dripped from his mouth but he was quick to wipe it away with his sleeve. Alastor looked at the other demon, satisfaction filled his eyes with a over shadowing gleam of dominance. He beckoned the TV Demon up with a single finger, Vox did so and stood up once again. Alastor unbuttoned Vox’s waistcoat, gripping each side to pull him closer. “take your clothes off for me.”

Vox was pleasantly surprised, the tone was more of a needy ask than a dominant order. Despite this he didn't question the Other's authority but instead did as he said as told. He threw his waistcoat and blazer down on to the floor and begun on his shirt. The radio demon sat on the bed, watching carefully. His grin grew as Vox had completely removed his shirt. The other demon turned to look at Alastor, smiling back before undoing his belt.

After the two got undressed Alastor looked the TV Demon’s body up and down. Skinny, a little twinkish but all the while delicious and the most delightful thing to destroy in bed. Alastor felt himself harden again, just by the sight of Vox’s body. He ran his tongue along his lips as Vox bought himself closer to the bed.

Suddenly he was pinned down, forced in to the pillow and kissed forcefully by the radio demon. Vox kissed back, playing along with Alastor. He was going to string the radio demon along until he suspected nothing. Alastor slipped his tongue inside the Other's mouth, searching his mouth in a heated match of dominance. Alastor won because vox let him, the radio demon was unaware of this.

That's why it came to surprise when the TV Demon suddenly switched the position of the two. He was now on top with Alastor's hands been pinned down by his own. Alastor looked to the other demon in shock, complete and utter betrayal by all his senses. Alastor was sure the TV Demon was bowing down to him. A sudden whimper from the deer made vox grin from ear to ear.

“Aww what's a matter?”  Vox cooed in a mocking tone, bringing his face down to Alastor's. Alastor grimaced with a smile, twisting his wrists around but this made Vox press down harder.

“UNHAND ME CRETIN!” Alastor exclaimed as Vox grinded against Alastor's body, the tip of Vox’s erect shaft resting against Alastor's hole. He panicked, not wanting to look weak yet he yearned for any form of sex. In this state, Alastor knew that he would crumble under any form of touch and once put in a situation of submission he will commit to it.

Despite the pleas of the demon literally beneath him Vox firmly held Alastor's wrists in to place and wrapped them up in a soft but tough lace before attaching it the head rest. Alastor of course pulled and tugged but to no avail. The radio demon sighed. “Give up?” Vox tilted his head, Alastor despised that tone. The tone filled with mockery and a sort of tone that hid the statement “you really are pathetic.”, or it seemed that way to Alastor. Who shivered as Vox wrapped a hand around Alastor's member, pumping it slightly to get him back in the mood. Alastor bucked his hips up to meet Vox’s Hand, biting his lip to avoid any sounds emitting from his mouth. There was a slight graze from earlier but no major damage though it did give Alastor a bit of pain when Vox’s hand slid down it.

Alastor let his eyes slide shut as the pleasure surges through his body, he was still refusing to make sounds much to the other demon's dismay. Vox frowns mentally, keeping a smile on the outside. He keeps rubbing the Other's shaft while lining is own up to Alastor's ring piece. Vox throws his hips forward, slamming in to the other demon harshly. Alastor lets out a sharp yell. “Oh FuCk!” he shouts, clenching his fist in a ball. Vox smirked in his own satisfaction.

The radio demon bit his lip, trying not to let the built up tears fall from his eyes. Yes, he liked pain but that… That was something else. He hears vox chuckle over the sound of his own shaky, pain filled breaths. That bastard.

Vox looked down to see a little blood from the radio demon's ass, did he feel bad? Not in the slightest. That's what this whole charade was for, meeting up in a run down motel away from any friends or family, it was purely for fucking. A way these two could hurt each other without ruining their chances of getting redeemed. If anything the radio demon holding back tears while trying to withstand a dick in the ass was a beautiful sight. Or at least vox thought, maybe he could have given the deer demon a warning that he was going in dry. But then what was the fun in that?

The grin remained on the TV Demon’s face as he rocked his hips in to Alastor. He finally re-opens his eyes, the tears have gone but a pained fluster remains dusted along his cheeks. Vox let out a soft grunt of both effort and pleasure. Alastor looked off to the side, not wanting to meet the neon blue gaze of Vox. He felt embarrassed and ashamed that he let himself get in to this position, even more so for liking it. He hid a smirk as the TV Demon continued to rail him hard and fast.

Vox guessed he had a hit a good spot as Alastor gasped, threw his head back and moaned. The first sound of pleasure he released as a sub. Vox grinned in satisfaction. It took the radio demon a moment to realise what he had done but he decided he didn't care. He was too deep into this to give a damn. It was not like the pair disclosed any of this to anyone, what happened in the cheap motel. Stayed in the cheap motel.

Vox let out a moan himself as he felt the walls of the tight demon wrap around his cock. He slammed in to Alastor harder, making sure to hurt him. This got a little more blood out of Alastor which came as amusing to Vox. He liked seeing Alastor bleed, even more satisfactory when it's because of him. Vox continued to thrust harshly, leaning forward to bite in to Alastor's neck. He watched Alastor tug more on the restraints as pain shot through his chest like the bullet he was killed with. He hissed in pain, watching the blood drawn from him drip onto the no longer clean sheets.

“Mm, th-that hurt!” Alastor bucked his hips up again, his member presses against Vox’s stomach.

Vox lets out a laugh. “I should fucking hope so~” he licks the marks he just engraved into his partner's skin, Alastor moans again, the blush returning to his cheeks. As much as he hated him, Vox thought Alastor looked absolutely adorable like this. Arms pinned to the bed, hair an absolute mess and a thin layer of sweat worked up from the fucking, it was a sight to die for. Moments like this make it worth living Hell.

Vox felt a slight pang of disappointment when he felt his near edging closer, Alastor was a panting mess with his tongue lolling out of his mouth and his eyes nearly rolling back in to his head, Vox could tell he was also close. So the TV Demon made the most of it, catching the lips of the other demon with a kiss. Slamming in to him sloppily, but finally hitting the right spot Vox hit Alastor's prostate. It sent the deer over the edge with a final moan as he came over Vox’s bare chest and even reaching the bottom of his screen. He had the most pleased smirks on his face as he laid back, the TV Demon finishing not long after him. He came inside of Alastor, letting the cum fill the radio demon. Alastor felt the warm liquid against his inner walls. It felt good, let out a sigh. Once Vox had finished his release he pulled out, the cum pouring from Alastor's ass and onto the sheets. Vox chose to ignore this, untying Alastor from his bounds.

The radio demon sat up, feeling slightly dazed and out of it. He glanced down at the cum soaked sheets with a slight chuckle. He knew he shouldn't but he enjoyed the events that just unfolded.

Vox was busy putting his clothing back on before turning to Alastor. He smirked before speaking. “I'll leave first, we don't wanna leave together just in case-” Vox round himself interupted once more.

Alastor waves his hand dismissively “yeah yeah you say this every time we hook up, I'll call you when I want to meet next” he smiled. Vox smiled back, leaving without saying goodbye as he always does, feeling very happy with himself. Alastor watched him leave before going to get up for a shower. A sudden stab of pain dashed through his backside. “Aah!” Alastor let out a yell, his legs almost buckling underneath him. It looks like he was going to be the one walking funny for a week, he feared the reactions he'd get. He's sure Angel would be able to tell from his own personal experiences… Alastor mentally cursed. He made it a promise to himself to ruin that demon next time they met up.

--.

[tigrapurrs]

Lucky

Here’s a little Tigra fic for #TigraBurningBright Wednesdays!

Sometimes I run.

At night, after everyone else is asleep. I can hear them through the walls, my hearing both blessing and curse.

Steve, his heartbeat slow and steady, breathing even, even his sleep the ‘pinnacle of human perfection.’ I imagine him, beautifully sculpted body stretched out, chest rising and falling with clockwork regularity.

Bobbi and Clint, her head nestled in the crook of his arm, bodies naked and close for the shared warmth, his fingertips resting in her hair mid stroke, where they were when he dropped off to slumber, her hand draped possessively over his stomach, their legs twined together. Peaceful together during sleep in a way they never are while awake.

When he’s there, staying at the compound, Tony in the comfy old easy chair in his workshop, a glass of melting ice, drained of whiskey, in his hand or on the small table next to him. He’s snoring, eyes darting under his eyelids in fitful sleep. He never rests easily, his demons too noisy for that.

I can hear every shift, every breath, every whisper. I love them. They’re my friends. They’re heroes. They’re family.

I just wish I was one of them.

I try not to think about it as I exit an upper floor window, letting the near freezing air wash over me. My short, dense, silky fur insulates me, and my senses come truly alive as the scents of the forested hills around the compound hit me. Deep within me, pacing her cage, the Huntress lifts her head, ears perking forward, and she stills, knowing what’s coming.

Balance is the key to my dual existence. For them, for my family, I have to play the role of Tigra: flirty, funny, sexy, occasionally silly Tigra. Sometimes my temper flares and they’re reminded I’m not just a wise cracking sex kitten, but for the most part, they know who I am. They even think they know what I am.

In a blink I’m off, leaping the length of a football field and landing on the lower branches of an old oak tree with no more sound than a swooping owl, and then I’m on the ground, springing through the old forest, body leaning into the sheer physicality of running, of hunting, and I know, even though I can’t see them myself, a feral glint is in my eyes as I let the Huntress out of her cage, let her do what she does best, what she desires most. For the first few minutes I’m a sleek shadow darting gracefully through the brush, taking to the trees, leaping and running and just exulting in being Tigra. The forest is a dark, lush miasma of scents and sounds, as alive and awake to me as a shopping mall on Black Friday would be to Jan.

The compound is in the distance and I’ve covered several miles before I come to a stop at the crest of a hill. It’s a clear night, and cold, my breath steaming in the silver moonlight. I stand, running a hand idly through my thick, red hair. I can scent deer on the wind, and the Huntress roars in approval. Even I grin a little, flashing fangs behind my full lips. It’s a small herd, six I think, and the trail is relatively fresh, no more than an hour old. In an instant I’m off, following their movement and adjusting my angle of approach to be downwind of them. Their senses of smell aren’t as good as mine, but no sense in giving them unnecessary warning. In point of fact, I’m not even consciously thinking of it, the Huntress does this naturally, instinctively.

The air is just cold enough to sting my lungs, and the scent of my prey is like a siren song, calling to the Huntress. I spy the small herd as I land in the upper branches of a birch tree, dropping so silently they’re clueless to my presence

I was right, there are 6 of them. A young buck and an older buck, a doe, three yearlings—though I get the sense, given the air of a standoff, the older buck may not be welcome.

He’s a scarred old gent and I know at a glance he’s seen many winters like this. Smart, lucky, canny, but starting to slow, to get desperate. The strapping young buck he’s facing is far too powerful for him, but my sense is he’s probably not been able to breed in a long time. I respect him, admire him, but the Huntress licks her chops and I know. He’s my prey tonight.

I’m 60 paces out and I know I could make it in a single spring, make the kill instantly with none of them ever recognizing my presence before the deed is done, but I’m not just seeking meat tonight. The Huntress needs to stretch, she needs blood, but most of all, she needs to chase.

I roar.

It’s not my loudest, it’s actually pretty tame, but it’s a sound that stretches back to the dawn of time. It echoes across the hills, and every prey animal for miles is reminded what it was like to be in the darkness when the great cats of old prowled. The effect is like a bomb going off, and the little herd scatters in every direction, the young following the doe, the two bucks springing away from each other, their ardor cooled by the threat of death.

I leave the younger buck. He’s strong and healthy, he’ll breed this winter, and for several more. I’m here for blood, but unlike a human trophy hunter, not bragging rights. I’m fast enough I could run down and kill the entire herd. No, I follow the old buck, and the Huntress approves. The weak, the sick, it’s our duty to cull them, to keep the herds strong. He’s still a powerful warrior, and my ears catch the cacophony of his crashing through the brush, his heavy tread thudding down, and I follow, little more than a shadow to him. He knows he’s being chased, but I’m too quiet, too high up.

The Huntress is enjoying this, and I love it as well, the focus, the goal, the simplicity of everything. I don’t need to think about Greer and her mess of a life, or wonder if I’m good enough to be an Avenger. This is survival. Kill or be killed. The Law of the Jungle. And I am TIGRA, the top of the food chain.

He’s slowing, his sides heaving, and his breath steaming in great gusts. The end is coming, and he knows it. He stunk of fear at first, but that’s bled away. He accepts it, and like any warrior, he turns to fight, lowering his head, and brandishing his magnificent antlers—an array of sharp points pointed my direction. I drop in front of him, my heart pounding more from exhilaration than exhaustion, into a crouch. My tail is lashing in excitement. The snow is crunchy and cold on the pads of my feet, and the only sound is his panting.

Maybe a signal passes between us, I’m not sure, but he charges. We both know it’s his last. I lightly spring over his lowered head, claws digging into his hide for purchase, and then, like my namesake, I bite down, fangs penetrating and as soon as I crunch into his vertebrae, I yank my head. With a clean snap, it breaks, and suddenly he’s stumbling down, dead before he hits the ground.

Silence falls around us.

The Huntress is satisfied.

I throw my head back and ROAR! A roar of victory, a roar as old as time itself, and all around me I can hear the prey animals breathing a sigh of relief—they know I’ve killed and I won’t be killing any more tonight.

I don’t know what my fellow Avengers would think. Bobbi’s never seen this side of me. Would it offend Steve’s sensibilities? I can’t answer that and as I bend down to my kill, tearing it open, the Huntress hungry for meat, for the choicest parts of the kill, I crouch in the moonlight, in the bloody snow, stripping flesh from the deer and filling my belly.  

The Huntress is satiated. I’M satiated, because as much as I try to keep that side of myself separate, when I’m being honest with myself, She is a part of me. A part I have to learn to accept.

I sigh and spring to a low hanging branch to get out of the snow. Lazily, I lick the blood off my fur, cleaning myself. It’s sticky but it tastes good, and inside, the Huntress is ready for a nap.

The trip back is slower. I have time to think, and I don’t necessarily like everything in my head.

I slip inside the mansion and can tell people are awake. I’m not surprised when I find Cap in the kitchen. He’s in his PT outfit: black windbreaker type pants, a long sleeved grey shirt with ARMY printed across the chest (his chest fills that out deliciously) and a reflective belt.

“Hey Greer,” he says, flashing dimples.

“Hiya Cap!” I answer back, giving him what he expects, my Tigra voice.

“Just now getting in? Must’ve been a wild night,” he says, conversationally. I flash a grin at him.

“Yeah, you know me, party girl.”

He laughs, and I imagine running my tongue over his abs.

The Huntress enjoys more than just blood.

Steve goes to run and I hear other members of the Avengers stirring. Bobbi is awake, so I steal silently into the quarters she shares with Clint, who is still snoring.

She jumps when I crawl under the blanket with her, and she hisses, “Dammit, Tee, you’re freezing.”

“No, I’m warm, but my fur is cold from being outside.” She grumbles, but pulls me close anyway.

“You’re lucky you’re so soft and that you warm up quickly.”

I bury my face into the nape of her neck and start purring.

I don’t think she catches it when I answer.

“I AM lucky.”