#his chest so powerful that it slows the progression of the taint

[bluerose5]

Me, a Thane Krios enjoyer, staring at every shot of Davrin with his slutty, low neckline: So... are your tits out for medical purposes too?

[letterstotheflre]

my drug is my baby

summary: sirius is glad he was patient enough with you and takes part of what he has been craving most

warnings: daddy kink, a smidge of religious references, dacryphilia, overstimulation, fingering and oral sex (fem receiver), innocence/corruption kink

word count: 3.2k

a/n: i kinda hate this now but i think it’s because i read it too many times, idk || i think it's a universal experience to not being able to cum from your own fingers... right?? and we all know that sirius has a crying kink... also i think it’s so hot when they make you thank them for letting you cum, sue me!!

Sirius Black liked to believe he was a patient man when he needed to be.

He was known for being reckless, always jumping into the next adventure without much thought, ready to follow James wherever he went. Most of the time he spoke without thinking, especially if he knew his comments would make his parents red with rage. Sometimes he didn’t even mean what he said, he just spewed whatever progressive or controversial opinion he had in hopes of making his mother’s heart stop beating.

He revelled in making rash decisions, somehow always ending up being benefited by them. He never gave much thought to anything: always doing his homework last minute yet somehow still getting top marks, taking some jokes too far, never taking into consideration other people’s safety unless they were close friends.

Some may call him selfish, but he liked not having to put too much thought into every single action. He spent most of his childhood walking on eggshells, afraid of saying the wrong thing and being punished or worse, Regulus taking the beating for him. But now that he finally escaped the Black family, he enjoyed the freedom that came with leaving Grimmauld Place.

He enjoyed breaking rules and creating chaos. It made him feel mighty, knowing he had the power to make all of those choices, still coming out on top, and see how they affected certain people. Most applauded him, revered him for being so spontaneous and adventurous; others couldn’t stand him, complaining about his mean jabs and sometimes harmful pranks.

Yet he knew how to wait for the things he deemed important or worthy. He knew that it was best to wait for Euphemia’s cherry pie to cool down before eating it, to wait for three days after the full moon to make a werewolf joke to Remus, to wait a few hours after James lost a Quidditch match to suggest a quick trip to The Three Broomsticks. And he knew it was best to wait for you.

Good things come to those who wait, that was his mantra. Of course, most of his restraint when it came to you was because he cared deeply about you and your comfort, but his conscience also drove him to keep his hands to himself. Every time his hands were about to go under your skirt, every time he heard your breathy moans when he kissed your neck, every time you looked at him with pouty lips begging for a kiss and his fingers craved to squeeze your neck, he took a step back. He felt so guilty for tainting something that in his mind was so pure, so he just held you close and peppered your face with kisses until you giggled.

But the thought of you being so untouched and how bashful you looked when he teased you or someone made a sexual comment made him want to ruin your innocence. Something inside him craved to see you tainted, to have you writhing under him as he rolled his hips against yours while you clutched his shoulders. He wanted to take that holiness you had and turn it into something so sinful that there was no way for you to ask for redemption.

And when you opened the door and took the first step, who was he to deny you?

He dragged everything out. Since the day when he taught you how to touch yourself, he wanted to make you wait for every sexual act that followed. He wanted to see how long it would take for you to beg him for some relief.

So today during a lecture when you looked at him with glazed over eyes and begged him to help you relieve the strange ache you felt in your stomach since you woke, he decided to be benevolent and give you some relief. He swiftly moved his hand under your skirt (thanking God that most of your closet consisted of that particular piece of clothing and dresses) and pushed aside your underwear before his fingers made way between your dripping folds. He didn’t enter you, just played with your clit until you had to bite the back of your hand to muffle your moans.

But when you whispered a small “thank you, daddy” and pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek, the only thing he wanted to do was take you back to his room and press you to the bed until your legs shook and tears ran down your cheeks. His eyes quickly scanned the classroom to make sure no one saw or heard anything, shoulders tense because of your words. All he could see were students with their own glassy eyes as they listened to whatever the professor was talking about. Fucking tease, Sirius thought.

And now, as he watched you on your knees and clutching his leg, lips pouty and cheek nuzzling his jean covered thigh, he was thankful for being patient enough.

“Please, Sirius, they’re back,” you said. He knew exactly what you were talking about, but played dumb as one hand petted your hair. “What’s back, baby?”

“The tingles,” you explained.

“And you need me to fix it, hm?” A small taunt was evident in his tone. “Your hands aren’t enough anymore, right bunny?”

Your cheeks warmed up at the implication, nevertheless, you shook your head. You still managed to make yourself cum, but the way Sirius could play with your clit like an experienced musician and how his big hands moved your hips along his jean covered leg would never compare to your dainty digits. The thought of his big fingers inside of you was enough to increase the tingles, and your hands pressed down on your stomach trying to soothe the pain.

“Please, Sirius, it hurts so bad,” you whimpered.

“Use your words, angel. Be good,” he said. You looked up at him with watery eyes, your mind already slipping and not letting you form too many coherent thoughts. “Please, daddy,” you sniffled.

He kept petting your head. “What do you want, angel?” He asked, looking almost bored with the situation as he listened to your pleads. “Anything,” you whined.

He shook his head, mocking disappointment. “You know you have to ask for what you want, puppy.” Even though he wasn’t angry, honestly a little amused at your desperation, his voice was stern, trying to engrave his rules in your fuzzy brain.

Your hands squeezed his leg, “I need you… down there.”

“You need to be clearer.''

You closed your eyes. You hated being so crass, but Sirius certainly had no qualms about it. “I need you… in my pussy,” you got out. But it wasn’t enough, not for Sirius who longed to ruin every aspect of your innocence. “What do you want, baby? D’ya want my fingers or my tongue?”

“Both,” you whined. Bingo, he thought with a dark smirk that would’ve sent shivers down your spine if you weren’t absolutely drenching and desperate for his touch. “Up you get, puppy,” he said, “lay on the bed f’me.”

You got on the bed right next to him, your head laying on one of your fluffy pillows. Your dress rode up a bit with your movements, but it didn’t really matter, and you pressed your legs together trying to relieve some of the tension while you waited for Sirius to do something. He simply watched you, taking in the image of you wriggling in place and toying with the rings he bought you for your birthday.

You felt a soft touch on your calves, and it gave you a fluttering feeling in your stomach. Sirius’s hands were moving slowly up your legs, nudging them apart without needing much force since you complied immediately. You were about to burst, ready to scream at him to just get on with it, but decided to keep quiet.

One of his hands made its way to the edge of your dress, swiftly going under it and his fingers slightly grazing your clothed pussy. Your hips bucked at the soft touch, but then just as quickly as it came it was gone. “No, come back!” you implored, reaching for Sirius’s wrist but being too slow.

Sirius arched one eyebrow, “What was that?”

“I’m sorry!” you cried out, “M’sorry, I just need you so bad. It hurts.” But Sirius remained where he was, arms now crossed over his chest as he looked at you. His eyes were full of disappointment and you wanted to cry, “What’s gotten into you today? You were so demanding in class before, so bratty, I don’t think you deserve it at all.” He was stretching the truth, you were by far the least bratty person he had ever been with, but he couldn’t help himself when he saw how much his words affected you.

A few tears fell at his words, “No, no, m’not bratty. I’m a good girl, daddy. I promise I’ll be so so good, your best girl! I won’t ask for anything more, m’sorry.'' You were saying anything you could to convince him that you were still his good girl, his angel.

Your lips were quivering and your chest was heaving with sobs you tried to keep inside; babbling apologies and trying to convince him that you would never act like this again, and he finally took pity on you. His hands gripped your ankles and opened your legs so he could lay comfortably between them. He could see a dark patch on your lavender underwear, and he huffed out a laugh with a slightly amused shake of his head. “I forgive you, bunny, but you’ll have to take everything that I give you. D’you think you can do that f’me?”

You nodded eagerly, choking a small ‘thank you’ as you tried to control your breath. He grabbed the ends of your dress and bunched it up over your waist, not bothering to take it off. He licked a strip over your underwear and the combination of his warm tongue with the friction of the cotton cloth was enough to make you mewl.

Sirius could not deny that he had been craving to taste you once more after he licked your fingers clean that day, and now only getting a smidge of your taste from what seeped through your underwear drove him insane. He needed to taste you completely, so he quickly pulled them off and pocketed them in the back of his jeans.

He used his fingers to spread your folds wide open, staring hungrily at all the slick that had gathered. “Oh puppy, look at the mess you’ve already made,” he crooned. “Y’re dripping, d’ya really need me this bad?”

“Yes, so so bad. Please, daddy.” He was so close, his warm breath hitting your wet folds and making you tremble in anticipation.

You watched, using your elbows to raise yourself a little, as he slowly started to take his rings off. “Hold ‘em for me, bunny, don’t want them to get dirty,” he said as he slid his chunky rings into your fingers. The metal dangled a little because of the size difference, so you closed your hands to keep them from falling.

Finally, his tongue made contact with your clit and you sighed in relief. It was followed by a moan when he started to suck on it, making sure to swirl his tongue all around before slurping. He looked like a starved man that finally came into contact with some sweet fruit, moving his head around your pussy to have you gushing on him. The ache in your tummy was slowly decreasing, now replaced with a nice fluttering feeling.

Your whines and moans echoed through his ears, resembling the most beautiful angel choir he had ever heard. He pulled away for a moment, “I’ve been waiting to taste you for days, puppy. S’better than I remembered.”

The more he pushed his tongue inside you, the more your legs shook. You involuntarily closed them, your pillowy thighs acting as earmuffs around Sirius’s head. He let them rest there for a few seconds before pushing them open once more, adding more fervour to his movements, eager to drink your sweet ambrosia.

Your closed fists went to his head, and you opened them a little to grip his hair, trying to ground yourself. “Gonna cum, daddy, can I?” You breathed out. Sirius just hummed, sending vibrations that were enough to make you let go. You tried to close your legs once more, but his shoulders prevented you from doing so. You felt like you were floating, your brain shutting off for a few seconds before returning to earth.

But Sirius didn’t stop moving his tongue, one of his fingers circling your hole before entering you slowly. Just one of his fingers felt like two of yours, even though you knew it wasn’t an accurate comparison. The stretch this time burned more than when you touched yourself, and you whined while shaking your head. “Too much, s’too much.”

Sirius paused for a moment so he could press your legs to your chest with one hand while the other kept moving in and out of you. The sudden switch in position made you gasp, but not as much as when Sirius thrust his fingers hard. “Are you dumb? I told you you had to take everything I gave you. D’you want to make me mad again?”

More tears fell when he curled his fingers, expertly finding that spongy spot inside you that pumped white heat through your veins. The way they twisted resembled a musician fiddling with a harp, your needy whines accompanying them like the main act. “No no, I can take it” you gasped, drowning in bliss as his fingers kept hitting the perfect spots.

You were already so close, Sirius giving you no respite as he quickly pushed his fingers. Your hand gripped his arm, fingertips digging the ink-covered skin. “C-close,” you whined, eyes rolling back and mouth open as you felt the tension ready to break.

“Going to make more of a mess, angel?” he grumbled, and you tried to nod as much as you could in your constricted position. Sirius chuckled, “Dirty little thing. Go on, I’ve got you.”

You whimpered brokenly as he pulled another orgasm from you. It felt like his fingertips were scrapping your insides to drag it out, and your feet dangled in the air as you swung them while trying to grab his wrist to stop him from moving.

Sirius couldn’t tear his eyes from you, with your pretty tears dripping down your cheeks and your chest heaving with small sobs from how good you felt. For him, all for him and only ever for him, because no one had ever touched you like he has and no one else ever would. “You look so pretty like this,” he cooed. “God I love your tears, baby, look how hard you make me.”

Your eyes moved down his body—when had he taken off his shirt? His tattoos splayed over his toned muscles made you clench around his fingers. You adored the small drawings that covered most of his body, they looked so beautiful on him and you just wanted to cry even more at how pretty your boyfriend was. When your eyes moved lower, following his previous instruction, you could see there was already a bulge in his pants that you knew was his cock, and your mouth watered at the thought of it just resting against his stomach like it did the first time you sucked him.

“I wanna feel you,” you cried while stretching your hands to touch him. He let you, your soft palms going over his chest and grabbing his shoulders so you could pull him down. “Kissie,” you breathed, letting his lips hover over yours for a second before kissing you hard and messily. His tongue played with yours and it only added more fuel to the fire inside you.

A moan broke you apart when his fingers resumed their pace, “P-please, no more” you babbled, the stimulation too much to bear.

“How are you gonna take my cock if you can’t take my fingers, hm?” He asked and you whined, his fingers burying themselves up to his knuckles and making your eyes roll back once more. Your mouth was dry from being constantly open, whimpers and moans constantly escaping from the open cavity. “Come on, one more, I know you have it in you. My good girl aren’t you?”

The squelching sounds were so dirty and they rang through your ears,  yet even through your fuzzy mind you could discern the important words, “Y-your good girl,” you managed to get out with a smile, glad to be praised by him.

His other hand pressed down on your legs even more, and now you could see the way the digits moved in and out of you, a slight sheen coating the skin every time they came out. “God, you were right, bunny, you are tight,” he grunted, “I don’t think I’ll ever fit, m’gonna break you.”

At that, your eyes widened. “No no, you’ll fit, daddy!” But he just chuckled at your desperation, “M’gonna break you in half, angel. Do you want that? Do you want me to split you open?”

A small chant of ’yes’ and ‘please’ echoed through the room. You could feel another wave coming, ready to wash over you as your toes curled in anticipation. It was like you were dangling on the edge, your hands holding on for dear life as you tried to hold on, and your moans grew louder and louder with every thrust Sirius gave.

Your clenching walls around his digits were warning enough for him, and he kept his eyes on your form as you struggled to keep it at bay, waiting for his permission. He watched as your ring clad fingers scrambled to the sheets, gripping them tightly as your head moved from side to side. “That’s it, bunny, let go f’me” and with one harsh thrust, you slackened the hold you had on your release and finally let go.

If you felt like you were still on your body you would’ve screamed. A white heat engulfed you as your vision grew hazy, your hips raising of their own accord and aiding Sirius in dragging your orgasm out. You looked so beautiful like this, a sweaty sheen on your skin and now tangled up hair sticking to your forehead. Sirius leant down, tongue cleaning the fallen tears before they dried, and you couldn’t help the moan that escaped you.

He grabbed your face, squishing your spit covered cheeks. “What do you say, angel?”

With a shuddering breath, you looked into his stormy eyes as he cleaned your release from his fingers with his tongue. “Thank you, daddy.”

You tried to lower your legs, but Sirius kept them in place. You stared at him, confused, yet he was staring at your puffy cunt, all shiny and stretched out for him. A smirk covered his lips as he finally looked at you, “I think y’re finally ready for m’cock, angel.”

TAGLIST: @ildm4ev @capsmischief @dracosafety @dracoxgeorge @roonilwazlibswhore @lovelylupinx @sarcasmismyon1ydefence @marxy-06 @remusjlupinisdead @mattefic @artisancowbells @zzzfour @emmaev @gxtitobxby @sam-hollandsgirl —if you want to be tagged tap here

[a03-anxiousandafraid]

Hmmmmm the "Tainted" one got me very curious~ 😶😂

AYYYYY Thanks so much for the inquiry anon!!

I'm super excited about this one! I've been quietly piecing this story together for a little while now (my plan is to get a decent amount concrete before uploads begin so I can keep a more consistent posting schedule) but it's a BotW pre-calamity mostly-canon-compliant story starting after the events of memory #8.

The story follows along with the memories but with a minor twist- the wound he gets from memory #8 has infected his arm with malice! (Not a spoiler- it's revealed right from the get-go!) It'll have a nice, tasty slow burn, plenty of angst, there will be a graphic segment that I will mark with a content warning to make the fic more accessible, and a depiction of Link's dad that ISN'T an asshole!!

I also decided to be sneaky and wait till Wednesday to answer you so I could sneak in a little WIP Wednesday preview~ 🥰 I’m sure there will be a lot of changes between now and when it finally gets posted but we’re here to share WIPs so it’s all good!!

The scratchy shriek of metal on metal echoes throughout the corridors. Sharp and biting, it punctuates the air the way the bell strikes the hour. Clockwork, soldiers and castle staff alike begin to congregate and linger. This spar is nothing new. It has always been standard training for higher ranking soldiers to verse their captain in combat, but few could resist snooping on the progress of a boy reported to have taken down three lynel at once.

A maid scoffs quietly, "If he took out so many monsters on his own, how has he not won this match in a matter of moments?" 

"That's not how it works here," her assistant hisses back. Propping a basket of laundry up against her hip, she gestures with gusto, "This is formal! They’re not some animals in a ring." 

“Yeah, and you ain’t some haughty maiden,” she puffs up her chest with jest. The women share a laugh as the song of scraping swords begins again. They watch the calculated dance between captain and hero, two dirty blond men performing a tango of swords. Like vultures, no move goes unnoticed. Gawking at prey, the maid snickers once more, “speaking of maidens I think I understand why the princess stopped running away.”

Their eruption disturbs the nearby audience. High pitched glee spilling unabashedly into the open air, Link’s ear twitches in annoyance but he remains otherwise transfixed on his father’s movements. His expression doesn’t change… or at least, it doesn’t for those who don’t quite know how to read him. 

A sword swipes towards his face. Lifting the hilt of the master sword to block, Link parries the hit and attempts to shove his weight into it to throw his father back. The move is quick and calculated, but just as he begins to press forward a sharp twinge shoots up his arm. Flinching, his counter falls short in power, allowing the captain to ready another attack. 

“You can’t let them distract you,” Arn warns quietly and swings another strike with powerful arms. He watches his son swerve out of the way, favoring his left side, and responds with a lunge. They continue this pattern of attack and defend as the midday sun beats down relentlessly. 

“Thank Goddess we have a competent hero,” a nearby squire sighs. Leaning back against the edge of the weapons rack, he nods passively to his friends. “If he were like the princess we’d be doomed.”

Sweat cascades down Link’s temples. Jaw clenched and seething, he swipes his sword aggressively in a succession of three. They’re brutal strikes but his father blocks them all. Eyebrows raised, another warning prepares itself on Arn’s lips but dies quickly when another flinch kills the momentum of his son’s sword swing. 

Sneaking a quick glance up, eyes are locked on them from all angles. Spectators all watching with mild mirth, it’s clear they know how this fight should end. It would be an embarrassment for the princess’s own protector to be bested by another man and yet the thrill of that potential outcome leaves them salivating like hyenas. He frowns. Taking a step back, he readies a heavy strike from above. Both arms raised high, Arn tightens his grip in the hilt and sends the blade directly down at his son’s face. As expected, Link brings his blade up parallel to the ground, bracing the tip with his right hand and shifting his body below the blade to catch it. 

Arn’s blade strikes the master sword with a sickening crack. To his relief his son still stands, blades clashing in a rigid cross, but the shake of Link’s right arm becomes apparent. Looking at his face, his son’s eyes are intense and striking. Jaw clenched and teeth blared, there’s a hint of panic quaking at the corners of his mouth. A terror reflecting through light cerulean eyes. 

The captain takes a deep breath. Leaning in close, his lips barely move as he whispers a command, “push my sword off.” There’s desperate relief in the gaze that meets his. They linger for a moment as Link readies himself beneath the swords. Stacked like a pillar, he forces his body and arms up with a yell, effectively forcing the captain’s blade back up into the air. 

Arn stumbles back, his grip conveniently slack as the sword flies to the edge of the courtyard and stakes itself into the group with a satisfying SHUMP. He regards it with playful bewilderment before laughing a bit louder than necessary. “HAH Well, look at that! Had you going there for a while, huh?!” The nearby squires scoff. Eyes rolling at Arn’s boisterous display, they finally use this as their que to leave.

“Your form has improved, but you need to stay aware of your footing. Favoring one side will restrict your options,” he babbles on as the bodies around them diminish in number. Taking casual steps towards his sword, Arn pulls his blade from the ground without concern and calls over his shoulder, “Speaking of options, I need your opinion on something. Follow me to my office.” A quick flick of the wrist punctuates his words as he makes his way towards one of the corridors. 

Link follows him on his heels. Slipping inside the office, there’s no time to form a word before the captain has locked the door and begun looming overhead like a bear. He reaches out for his son’s right arm, but stops mere inches away. Fingers twitching anxiously, he swallows the rock in his throat and regards him with great concern. “Is it,” he clears his throat again, “...is it the scratch?” 

Link casts his eyes to the floor in shame. He nods weakly and waits.The air is still as he feels the pressure of his father’s eyes. After an uncomfortable minute Arn’s voice cuts through the air again, “...let me see.” His words are gentle. Soft and encouraging, but Link can’t help but grimace. 

One lynel scratch. That’s all it was. And yet…

With lethargic reluctance, Link peels off his glove and gauntlet. Tossing them to the table, he takes a steadying breath before grabbing the fabric of his sleeve. Working the fabric up his arm, it doesn’t take long to reveal the source of his agony. Adorning pale skin is a thick, purple gash. Magenta flakes off around the scab while hot, inflamed skin puckers up around it. Like a blister ready to burst, the putrid infection throbs with concentrated malice. 

“Goddesses,” Arn gasps as the sight. His features grow heavier the longer he looks. “Link, it’s gotten worse. You… have you shown the doctors?” 

“No.”

“B-but this-!” Panic rises with the pitch in his voice. “W-What did the princess say? Can the scientists do anything?” He reaches out again for his son’s arm but fear stops his fingers from progressing. 

“I’ve only told you two. Nobody else needs to know.”

[wonderwomanfantasy]

kinktober day 26

Corruption w/ Shinsou

masterlist

I’ve saved the best for last so I hope you all have fun with the last week of Kinktober

warnings: Dubcon, rough sex, virginity kink, oral, drinking, work place harrasment, Crying, power play, breeding kink. Mean Hitsohi.

word count: 1,400(about)

Summary: Shinsou has taken a shine to his new secretary, and after a few shots of liquid courage he claims his cute little kitten.

Working as Shinsou’s secretary wasn’t all that bad of a job. He was easy to please and he didn’t ask too much of you, and he was always polite when he interacted with you. With one notable exception.

Shinsou was the perfect boss, except when he drank a little too much. Office parties or dinner meetings whenever he was offered a glass of wine really, he turned into a completely different person. Louder, always smiling and a lot touchier. If you had been just a little more savvy you would have recognised his behavior for what it was. But never the less you brushed off the multiple times he had grabbed your ass while tippsy as just a slip of the hand.

“Come here,” Shinsou drunkenly slurred pulling you by the hips towards his lap. you let him, not sure what else you could do. you perched lightly on his knee while his large hands circled your hips.

“You’re so soft I should touch you more often,” Shinsou purred low enough that only you could hear. His hands traveled forward rubbing down the side of your tighs.

“you do know that other people are looking at us right?” you asked squirming uncomfortably on his lap.

“Are you asking to go somewhere private? Naughty kitty,” he laughed

“N-No that’s not what I’m saying,” you stammered, pushing against his chest. He didn’t seem to hear, or feel, you He smirked at your blushing face.

“Why don’t you go to my office that way no one watches while you get dirty,” he snarked letting go of your legs and sending you off his lap. you flushed looking around the room at everyone who had witnessed the ordeal.  You were not going to go to his office you were not going to let him grab you like that.

Yet, you were waiting patiently at his desk waiting for him to burst in, which he did, his hungry purple eyes locking on you the second he was in the room.

“do you need something sir?” you asked timidly.

“I need you to bend over that desk and spread your legs,” he slurred instantly your face went ten different shades of red.

“Hitoshi!” you yelped.

“Come on don’t play coy- you know I can feel your emotions right? I can feel how turned on you get when you see me, when I grab you,” He taunted creeping closer to you. it was true that you were somewhat attracted to your boss but there was no way he could really know that. even if he did have better access to your mind than the average person. He pounced, your back hit the desk as he pinned you to the front.

“W-We can’t.” you whimpered, his hands were back on your hips.

“why not? I want you and I can feel how much you want me,” he purred. There was a thousand reasons why you couldn’t, but only one jumped to your mind

“I’ve n-never had sex before ,” you squeaked which seemed to freeze him.

Shinsou’s mind was reeling, How had no one managed to fuck you in the twenty-seven years you had been alive? it didn’t really matter, because he was going to do so now. He laughed and his gaze softened.

“I’ll show you what you’ve been missing baby girl,” he promised pushing you down on the desk. If his prick wasn’t rock solid before he sure was now. He would be the first to eat you out, to taint your soft doughy pussy. Shinsou needed you, now.

“do you like it when I touch you like this?” he breathed his hands ghosting up from your stoumach to your breasts

“yes,” you whimpered and suddenly you were under his spell.

“What do you want? Be honest,” he commanded. your voice floated out in the distance it didn’t sound like you but it was your words floating into the air.

“I want you to fuck me until I cry,” your mind cleared and you suddenly flushed realizing what you had asked him to do. Shinsou grinned wickedly hiking your pencil skirt up to your hips and pushed your legs wide open.

“Until you cry huh? Here I thought you’d want me to be gentle,” he growled yanking your underwear down your legs before attaching his mouth to your cunt.

It was all moving too fast. your head was spinning but you couldn’t seem to ask him to slow down or stop. His tongue dipped into your hole and he sucked on the tender flesh making your hips buck.  

“so sensitive kitty, so fucking wet,” he purred lapping at your folds. “do you like it kitty? do you like Sir sucking on your cunny?”

“y-yes,” you gulped. he continued to nurse on your sex until you came, which took an embarrassingly short amount of time. Shinsou licked his lips standing between your still spread legs.

“Is that the first time someone else had made you cum?” He asked undoing his belt. you dodded sheepishly your eyes fixed on his crotch. you could see his prominent bulge even through the dark slacks. you watched as he slowly pulled out his full cock, heavy and long in his hand. you gulped as you admired it as he slowly palmed himself.

“get on your knees kitty,” he commanded,

“Why?” you asked nervously. obviously, you knew what he wanted but you weren’t sure you could take it in your mouth.

“It’s only fair, come on kitty,” he snapped his fingers making you jump. awkwardly you knelt and took his cock in your hand. He grabbed you by the back of your head pushing your face against his prick. you were surprised how soft the skin was.

“give it a kiss,” he commanded. you looked up at him and pressed your mouth along the shaft until you reached the pink head, this was the most sensitive part of the cock right? you let your tongue peek out and run along the salty skin.

“Fuck,” he cursed, his hips bucked against your face.  He fisted his hand in your hair jerking you roughly to your feet before bending you back over his desk

“I’ll teach you how to suck cock some other time kitten, I need to stretch your pussy out, now,” he growled. thumbing over your folds before spreading them with his hand. His fingers were big, much bigger than yours, you yelped again feeling two of them push and scisor inside of you.

“Such a warm little cunt,” he hummed approvingly. “tight too, tell me princess do you think my cock is going to make this little pussy bleed once it’s inside of you?” he purred. it was hard to form words when your brain was so clouded over with lust.

“I-I don’t want to bleed,” you whimpered, fearing he would laugh at the innocent request. popping the chairy was a normal part of sex right? it had happened to all of your friends, still you couldn’t help but fear it.

Hitoshi did laugh, “ah sweet girl, Don’t worry I’ll streach you out nice and good so this big cock will fit in nice and easy,” he assured, his fingers still working on your insides.

“Is my cock the first one you've ever seen?” he asked.

“n-no I’ve seen e-em in movies,” you admitted.

“Oh? you watch porn do you dirty kitty?” he teased he he leaned down and pressed his chest to your back so he could whisper in your ear.

“what do you watch while you touch this innocent little pussy?” he asked feeling your walls flutter at the words. your mind was reeling and it felt like you were coming close to your second orgasum. but you could tease him right? He had done nothing but bully you.

“I like the ones where the s-slutty secratery f-fucks her boss,” you whispered. his fingers pulled out of you in a flash and he flipped you over so you were looking up at him. his eyes were glowing with anger, and something else, lust? clearly you had hit a nerve.

“you really are a slut huh?” He nudged your legs open aligning his hips with yours. He rutted his cock against your dripping cunt a few times before pushing into you.

You yelped and clamped down halting his progress into you. “Come on Kitten Relax and I’ll make you feel good,” he purred reaching between your legs and stroking your clit.

“Good kitty,” he purred bottoming out inside of you. “Feel that baby, feel how your pussy is taking the shape of my cock, molding around me like that,” he grunted.

“S-Shinsou,” His cock stretched you painfully, your whole body was tense, and tears pooled in your eyes. He placed his hand on your stomach and pressed down lightly.

“feel me here kitty?” he asked. and you nodded, you could feel him press right up against your cervix. it was then you realized he had slid into you bare.

“fuck- Shinsou condom!” you yelped. he seemed to understand you half formed words and shushed you. pressing a surprisingly gentle kiss to the crown of your head.

“let me worry about that kitty, you just sit back and feel good okay?”

Shinsou was losing his mind your virgin cunt was so impossibly tight around him, your velvet walls fluttering around his cock made him light-headed. He had wanted to take you the moment you started working for him but only now was he realized he should have bent his cute little secretary over way sooner.

He started moving slowly, he made sure to push back into you fully, the head of his cock kissing your womb with each thrust.

“oh- Fuck fuck, Shinsou,” you moaned, gripping the lappels of his rumpled suit jacket.

“You like this? You like being a dirty little kitten, a fucking cum dump for your boss?” he growled, his dirty words making your cunt clamp tighter around him.

“Fuck I’m going to cum,” he warned, a similar knot of pleasure was building in your own stomach, you had gotten so close on his fingers, you were going to cum any second. you felt kind of dirty losing your virginity on an office desk with your boss but his cock felt so good pulsing inside of you the shame didn’t run deep.

“Beg for my cum kitten I want you to hear how bad you want me,” he grunted.

“please S-Shinsou cum in me,” you whimpered

“Naughty girl, did you forget that I wasn’t wearing a condom? you want me to fuck a baby into you?” he growled and your eyes went wide.

“I- uhm-,” words failed you. your mind was blank, and you seemed to have lost all control of your hips as the raised to meet his pelvis.

“Dirty bitch,” his finger was fast against your clit as he brought you both to orgasm. You displved around him as you came a second time, and before you could even worry about his cum and where it would land, you felt the hot semem land acros your cheek. you were quick to close your eyes as he finished on your face.

Your body was shaking, the tears clouding your eyes finally spilled over onto your cheeks smudging your makeup.

“Damn kitty I thought I'd have to fuck you a few more times for you to cry,” Shinsou snickered whipping away the tears, and a bit of his cum with his thumb. Hitoshi slid his soft cock back inside of you and started humping your pussy he was hard again.

“don’t think that means I’m going to stop, no no I’m going to fuck you until you’re a perfect little whore, Kitty,” he purred nipping at the flesh of your neck and you knew those weren’t the last tears you would be crying tonight.

[moonlitceleste]

Elevator Love (Ch. 1)

A/N: Welcome to my first multi-chaptered fic! This was supposed to be a one-shot but I kept writing and here we are. I’m not super happy with this, so I’m probably going to rewrite it eventually. Staring at my document hasn’t seemed to help so far, so I’m probably gonna take a break on this and work on requests. For now, just sit back and enjoy :D

Marinette gnawed on her lip nervously as her fingers toyed with the ladybug keychain on her white crossbody purse.

Her eyes were glued to the towering Wayne Enterprises building before her. The big “W” atop it seemed to stare her down, issuing a silent challenge for her to walk past its doors.

“You got this, Marinette!”

The heroine smiled weakly at Tikki’s assurance—although she did appreciate the sentiment, Marinette wasn’t quite sure she could agree.

She was not prepared to meet Tim whatsoever.

Sure, they had been friends for nearly two years—but regardless, Marinette couldn’t help but stress.

It had all started when Tim decided to commission MDC for a few pieces, offering a large sum of money in exchange for her efforts. Despite being doubtful of whether or not he was truly who he claimed to be, Marinette accepted the request.

Soon enough, back-and-forth emails progressed to casual texting, which led to an eventual friendship. The two seemed to click naturally, which was evident in their smoothly-flowing conversations.

Tim knew everything there was to know about her (barring her identity, of course), yet they had never met in person.

He was the co-CEO of a multi-billion dollar company and she was a prominent designer that moonlighted as a superhero—finding time to video chat one another was hard enough.

But now that Marinette had finished université, she had nothing tying her down to Paris. 19 was a young age to be done with school, but her life wasn’t exactly normal.

That’s why a few weeks before graduation, Marinette decided to email Bruce Wayne.

It was a spur-of-the-moment decision; Tim had made an offhand remark about how he wished he could be there for her graduation, and the cogs in Marinette’s brain began to turn. Maybe he couldn’t come to Paris, but she could go to Gotham.

Once her mind was made up, it was only a matter of planning.

It was surprisingly easy to get ahold of Tim’s father; from then on, everything else fell into place.

Perhaps attempting to surprise someone as smart as him went against her better judgement, but it was too late to turn back now.

Marinette’s phone pinged, and she scrambled to press her thumb to its home button. Speak of the devil.

Mr. Wayne

It’s ready.

Tell your name to the receptionist at the front desk, and she’ll give you a lanyard with a pass into Tim’s office as well as a set of directions.

I apologize again for not being there to guide you; unfortunately, I have other matters to attend to.

Marinette tucked the gift box she was holding under one arm, freeing her hands to type out a response.

Marinette

Thank you so much for your generosity, M. Wayne!

I really appreciate all your help in planning this, and for allowing me to surprise Tim in the first place.

Despite your busy schedule you’ve gone through so much trouble to help me. I really can’t thank you enough!

Once she pressed send on her last message, Marinette inhaled deeply.

Her hands moved to smooth down the soft fabric of her blush pink dress.

It was an admittedly simple ensemble, but the billowy sleeves and fluttery skirt gave it a delicate flair. Her white strappy sandals, circle purse, and wavy half-up braided hairstyle tied it all together nicely.

Marinette checked herself over one last time to make sure she wasn’t forgetting anything. She tucked her phone into her purse, grabbed the box containing Tim’s gift, and turned to look at the imposing building with a burst of newfound confidence.

Here we go.

-

“To the right…” Marinette muttered. “Or was it to the left?”

The designer scrunched her nose in confusion, turning around in a circle to better survey the building.

She had already obtained the lanyard and directions, but decided to make a last-minute detour to the bathroom. It shouldn’t have been a problem since Marinette was a few minutes early, but now she was lost. Sure, the place had a fairly open floor plan, but it was enormous! She couldn’t be expected to navigate this.

In hindsight, maybe deciding to deviate from her original schedule had been a mistake.

Marinette sighed and started walking. She didn’t want to disturb anyone, so wandering aimlessly was her only other option.

Well, it wasn’t her only option—she could easily use her Ladybug magic to give herself a push in the right direction, but Tikki would disapprove. Oh, and it was wrong to use her powers for selfish gain. Marinette totally remembered that.

Turns out she didn’t even need to use her Ladybug powers, though; it only took  a few minutes of searching for her to stumble across what she was looking for.

About 10 meters away was a set of elevators lined up against the wall. A glowing “up” arrow was visible on the panel beside a pair of open steel doors.

Marinette’s eyes widened at the sight of the open elevator. She promptly broke into a jog, careful to keep her speed somewhat appropriate for the environment. The doors started to close, and Marinette’s heart raced faster. There was a shadowed figure inside, but due to the angle they likely couldn’t see her.

“Wait!” she called as loudly as she dared.

It was almost funny how similar the experience was to her lycée days.

Marinette pushed the thought to the back of her mind—she would rather not taint her day with memories of that dumpster fire.

She turned her attention back to the elevator, whose doors had retreated. Thankfully, the person inside heard her. Marinette slowed her pace as she covered the last few meters, but was mindful to not walk obnoxiously so.

As she approached her destination, it became increasingly apparent that whoever was inside was remarkably tall.

Ugh, she could practically hear Tim’s jest in her head—are you sure it’s not just because you’re short? He loved to poke fun at her height with short jokes, even though he was only 8 cm taller than her.

Anyways, despite her petite stature, Marinette was sure the person inside would be considered tall by any standards.

She prepared a friendly smile, a “thanks” on the tip of her tongue when they finally came into view.

The first thing she saw was a pair of worn black men’s work boots on what was an admittedly toned body.

Marinette didn’t let her eyes linger on the muscles there, rather opting to trace her gaze from the man’s body up to their face. And wow, was that a gorgeous face.

She wasn’t the type to fall for someone based on appearance alone, but Marinette would be crazy to think this wasn’t the most attractive person she’d ever seen.

He had messy black hair with a pure white streak in the front, tousled to perfection in a way that would make a supermodel jealous. His brilliant green eyes were pools of emerald, richer than any shade she had seen before. Marinette would gladly drown in them.

Speaking of his eyes, he was looking at her with his captivating gaze and mesmerizing face...

Marinette would forever deny swooning at the sight. She would never swoon.

(She totally did.)

Say something! she scolded.

“Uh, than-thank you.”

Oh no. It was the stutter.

Not just a stutter, but the stutter. The one that only appeared when she was nervous and/or talking to hot guys.

Marinette had long outgrown it—or at least, she thought she had—but apparently now it was back with a vengeance.

Her face heated up, and she moved forward to press the button to her designated floor before taking her place some distance away from the man. She turned her head away in embarrassment, hair shielding her face so he couldn’t see her flushed cheeks.

If she had been looking up, perhaps Marinette would have been prepared for the flood of incoming mass. But she was too busy cursing herself to notice the group of people entering until she felt a nudge on her right side.

Marinette squeaked at the stack of boxes that was suddenly in front of her face and looked up to see a small group of workers entering the elevator, pushing a large platform truck stacked with packages. She shuffled on instinct to make more room.

The cart seemed way too big to fit, especially with the capacity of the elevator. Someone would have to contort themselves, or at the very least they’d be squished up against one another uncomfortably. 

Marinette watched as they pushed the platform truck in all the way. It left the tiniest bit of wiggle room, just enough space for someone to squeeze past.

The designer found herself slowly edging towards her left each time another person wiggled their way past the load.

The elevator wasn’t too crowded, and the process went relatively smoothly—that is, until the last worker attempted to get inside.

He had a build somewhat similar to her Papa: tall and large, so his struggle was understandable. It took a minute of grunts and loud sighs, but he managed to slip past the obstruction and into the elevator.

His large frame, however, meant less space for everyone, and Marinette felt the sudden impact of being shoved.

She couldn’t help the soft yelp that fell out of her mouth as her feet stumbled, and before she knew it her left side was firmly pressed up against someone.

Oh god. It was Hot Guy. Of course it was him.

She pressed her lips together in mortification, arms squeezing Tim’s gift to her chest even tighter.

“Sorry.”

Marinette nearly jumped as the husky voice spoke quietly next to her ear. Her head whipped towards the direction it came from, which wasn’t exactly hard to place. There was only one person on her left side.

She turned her head to face the man with the white streak. She had to crane her neck awkwardly in order to properly see him, which really put into perspective their height difference.

His green eyes were sincere, and Marinette could see the apology in them.

The lack of space wasn’t his fault whatsoever, but it was nice to see someone care about her boundaries.

“U-um, it’s okay.”

Marinette smiled at him shyly, then diverted her eyes away. Her brief burst of courage could only take her so far.

Before she knew it, the ride was over. The elevator stopped with a ding, and coincidentally enough, everyone was headed to the same floor.

Marinette fished out the set of directions Mr. Wayne had written from her purse, skimming over them once more. Her stomach filled with butterflies at the thought of finally meeting her best friend.

She barely noticed the workers pushing out the platform truck or Hot Guy walking away, the outside world long forgotten.

Marinette’s body went on autopilot, following the instructions on the paper until she found herself stopped in front of a sleek door. She didn’t know what it was made of, but she was glad it wasn’t glass like many other things in Wayne Enterprises. That would make her surprise a lot harder to pull off.

Above the key card security system on the left was a name plate, nearly identical to others she had passed on her way here. The name Tim Drake was written in elegant silver cursive letters, the metal gleaming as if it were brand new.

Marinette’s chest tightened in anticipation as she pulled out the lanyard Mr. Wayne had given her. She took a deep breath before knocking twice.

There was a short pause before a familiar voice responded.

“Who is it?”

She scanned her card and opened the door.

“Marinette?!”

-

A/N: For reference, Marinette is 5’3” (160 cm) and Jason is 6’4” (193 cm), so there's a 13" (33 cm) difference. I tried to use French terms and measurements so it'd feel more like Marinette's perspective.

And yea, I'm not super proud of this so I'm probably gonna rewrite it in the future. I have a bunch of other WIPs to work on though, so sorry in advance for my wacky updating schedule!

-

PERMANENT TAGLIST @avengerthewarrior @enternalempires @freesportspalacesalad @h1sss @nathleigh

[jaedreaminn]

Queen of Hearts

Summary

In a world where all you were capable of doing was stealing hearts and breaking them, causing chaos and shattering any form of love, giving someone your heart seemed impossible.

You needed hearts to survive so you could only steal and sit on all the love in the world because giving love was your biggest weekness.

But maybe you didn't mind being weak for him. And maybe you let go for just this once. And maybe you forgot that there was always a higher power...

Pairings: Jungwoo x fem!reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Manipulation, Supernatural, mythical, sad ending.

Warnings: Death

Word Count: 2.7k

You sat on your throne as you looked out at the chaos you created, Hearts broken and left to burn in the pits of hell you called your existence. Sucking the love out of anything is what you did best and this is what gave you a tiny semblance of joy.

The cool wind swept through your hair as you sat at your balcony looking out at the mess you made, a smile graced your lips.

To anyone else everything was normal but only you knew what you did to turn this neighbourhood of pure happy hearts to something so tainted.

The convince store below your apartment seemed peaceful but only you knew that the owner was having second thoughts about what he thought was a happy 20 year-long marriage. About how he suddenly desired anything but his wife. Of course, after having a taste of you and the possibility that he could have you why would he want to go back to his wife?

You smirked looking at the topmost apartment on the four-story building in front of your apartment, where a girl sat staring at nothing in particular longingly, waiting for her lover to return from the military but you knew he wouldn't return to her, instead he would run away with another man. But the false hope you gave her would lead to the perfect heartbreak once she gets the news.

Your gaze wandered to the ground floor which was mostly empty except for the dead man that lay in that flat for four days now. Killed by his own son who ran away to the military.

On the second floor lived that dead man's ex-wife who was diligently preparing a meal to take up to the fourth floor, cluelessly in love with someone who will never be hers. You were disappointed though, she didn't know her feelings towards the girl, and so she still seemed happy and content treating the girl like her own ‘daughter’

You hated that she was happy but guessed you couldn't have everything.

The third floor was your favourite. The most sinful house among all, with dim lights and loud moans.

He was a young man who had everything but that wasn't enough for him so he tortured his finance until she left him and then found a new target. A much older target.

'The wife of the convince store owner and the psychopath- a disaster in the making' the thought amused you.

You smirked knowing that without your help everything would be normal and not as exciting as it is now. You knew that if not for you introducing people and giving them a little nudge nothing would have happened.

Three knocks at your door put an end to your little session of basking in the glory of your creation. You sighed as you made your way towards your front door.

It was either your next victim who you met at the bar yesterday, the amazon delivery guy with the clothes you ordered or the baine of your existence.

Your door swung open and you came face to face with the cutest,, cheekiest smile ever. Turns out it was the baine of your existence, your neighbour.

"What are you doing here" you scowled.

"Don't pretend to be mad" he spoke letting himself into your apartment, making his way towards your couch. "You absolutely love my presence"

The one person that had so much love to give that even if you steal his heart a thousand times he's never run out of it. And it was impossible to break his heart because it just was so well guarded.

"You’re intruding my own personal time Jungwoo" you frowned.

"All you do is sit on that chair in your balcony and stare outside like an absolute creep," he says rolling his eyes. "Mrs. LaBlanc is quite creeped out by you"

The only reason that old hag was creeped out by you was because she knew that you knew more about her crush on the 4th-floor girl than she did.

"You're quite chummy with Mrs. LaBlanc aren't you?" You said smirking trying your best shot at starting something.

"The only person I get chummy with is the food from McDonalds," Jungwoo said mirroring your smirk and you frowned.

"I'm being serious love if you like her you should take your chances with her," you said seriously, an encouraging smile gracing your face that all your past victims believed as if it was their Holy book.

"What makes you say that “Jungwoo said spacing out slightly, thinking.

Ha! Jackpot. He was seriously thinking about your question now.

"Third person’s point of view hun," you said looking at his brown orbs that didn't seem to notice your stare. "I see what you don't see"

"Your right," he said turning to you, expression serious. "You do see what I don't"

You finally had him. But that was too easy...

"You don't see what I do so you obviously won't know how much I'm NOT attracted to her," he said flashing you his signature smile.

You smiled back. You were used to this now, it was impossible to crack him and you just knew it wasn't going to be easy.

"You pay an awful lot of attention to me," Jungwoo said a sly smirk playing on his face.

"It's because you're my favourite" you winked at him.

"But for someone who’s your favourite you're always trying to set me up with people other than you," he said pointedly. The statement catching you off guard.

Yes, they fell in love with you often, but to them, you were only forbidden fruit. But pretending to date them was harsh and it gave you the most joy but it was the cruellest, you just didn't expect Jungwoo to be one of the victims whose heart you would break yourself.

You smirked "If you wanted a date with me all you had to do was ask" you said, sitting on the arm of the couch as you trailed your fingers up his arm.

"So is that a yes?" He asked hopeful puppy eyes shining.

"Of course" you smiled at him.

This was it, this was the start.

When he said date you honestly expected to be taken to McDonald's.

So you were rather surprised when he took you for a movie with the best seats, followed by a fancy diner.

But his company was fun and he radiates the perfect feeling of love for you to suck up. It would be so fun breaking him.

He was so sweet and innocent and pure.

He 'walked you home' even though you were neighbours and even hesitated before kissing you and sending you home.

It was a lovely feeling and you knew you were going to have the time of your life with this one.

For the victims directly involved with you, you usually had a process that you follow.

It was a three-stage full proof plan.

The first stage- The 'I'm on top of the world with your touch' stage.

It was where you couldn't get enough of each other.

The dates continued and suddenly Jungwoo was always where you were.

And you were always where Jungwoo was.

You two couldn't keep your hands off each other. And as you saw it, you had him right where you wanted him.

"You're warm," you said nuzzling your head against Jungwoo chest. It was a Sunday, the day where the world seemingly slows down and the two of you were on your couch, in each other's arms.

"You're cold" he chuckled. You looked up at him and raised your eyebrow.

"What?! He whined laughing, “That makes you perfect," he said grinning widely, placing a soft kiss on your forehead.

You knew you were cold, it was just people would usually never point that out.

"My body heat being that of a dead corpse makes me perfect" you said sarcastically giving him a forced smile with zero malice "Nice to know"

Jungwoo chuckled, brushing his hands through your soft hair "Yes that way I can cuddle you without it getting too hot for me and you're cold self gets all warmed up by me" he stopped to look at you and smiled "It's perfect"

You smiled at him and leaned forward, capture his lips in yours.

He was smitten by you and that meant stage one was going perfectly.

Things progressed as you wanted it to and you reached stage two- The 'You're dating me right?' stage.

You flirted with guys in front of Jungwoo face and called it being friendly. And slowly one by one made him distance himself from all his female friends.

You were possessive of him but lived your life as if you were single.

He always had to come to get you drunk over your ass, at bars with random guys hands all over you. You were always touchy with everyone and made sure Jungwoo saw you. You openly complimented other guys. But the moment he strays for even a second you pulled on his leash and held onto him.

You didn't let him even talk to girls. Made sure to get extra touchy with him the moment a girl started flirting with him. If he smiled at anyone you'd demand his full attention to be back on you and he gave you the attention you wanted without batting his eyes. Without complaining and with zero resistance, you didn't have to force it out of him, unlike your other victims he just gave it to you.

But that was also a downside, he still stuck with you even though you flirted with other men and we're getting handsy with other men right in front of him and it didn't seem to bother him at all.

And you tried everything in your power to make him jealous, making him feel ugly feelings. To make him want to be demanding but he never blinked once when it came to you trying to rile him up, it almost seemed as if he didn't care but at the same time he did everything he could to show you he cared for you and loved you. And you thrived on the love and affection and heart eyes he gives you and only you.

And he became your obsession.

Stage three was the stage you give him your everything and then just pull away, taking everything away with you.

(Less creative name, you know, but it works)

It was an important stage and you let him believe you loved him.

You took care of him when he was sick, cooked for him, held him close to you. Kept his heart in your tiny cold hands.

You would visit him after work and take him out, help him whenever you could and was just there for him.

This was the stage where you got past the difference in opinion in your relationship but that wasn't hard for you since the only difference in opinion between you two were whether you should eat burgers with tomato sauce or barbecue sauce.

This was the more domestic stage. Where things seemed to be settling down and where it was very easy to fool someone into thinking that this is what love should look like.

You watched him carefully as he sat on the desk in your apartment typing away in his laptop, brows scrunched in concentration and tongue poking out.

"I can't concentrate with you staring at me," he said eyes still glued to his laptop and you felt heat rush to your cheeks.

"I like to stare at what's mine" you replied back immediately and he only smiled.

"I know I can see the heart eyes," he said turning to face you and smiling.

Heart eyes? He was clearly reading more into what you feel for him. Or maybe you've just gotten better at acting.

You looked at the smiling boy and maybe you didn't mind if you held onto him for a long time because while every other victim of yours always wavered in giving you their affection his was constant.

You constantly stole pieces of his heart and it still never decreased in size. It was as if his heart was eternal and you liked that. After all, you were the queen of hearts and what was better than having a forever giving heart?

Maybe you'd keep him after he admits to loving you.

"Heart eyes? Only people who love each other can see those" you joked and he stilled looking at you expectantly.

"You love me?" He asked carefully and you smiled.

Here it was. Here is where you trap him with you forever.

"Don't you love me?" you asked, smiling at him cheekily.

"I asked you first" he pouted. "That means you don't love me so forget it" he sighed going back to whatever work he was doing.

"Ok fine!" you exclaimed loudly to get his attention back onto you "fine," you said more calmly and carefully this time.

If you had to say it first so that he says it back and you can trap his heart with you forever then so be it. It's not like you minded anyway you did love what he was offering you.

"I love you," you said with the sincerest tone, too sincere but it didn't matter as you looked into Jungwoos warm and bright eyes.

And he smiled the biggest smile that you have seen him smile yet and it was directed to you and you felt as if you were floating as he looked back at you with that look on his face.

"Great," he said and your bubble burst and you frowned at the odd response.

He closed his laptop and quickly picked up his belongings.

"What are you doing?" you asked standing up from your seat in confusion, you felt weak at the sudden drain of hearts from your being.

"I'm breaking up with you," he said still smiling but it had a sinister undertone to it.

"What why?" You cried out still confused and feeling weaker by the passing second.

"Cus I don't love you," he said casually "Never have" he shrugged.

"W-what how," you asked making your way towards him "But you're supposed to love me"

"But I don't," he said eyes cold and no more as welcoming and comforting as before. You reached out to hold his hand and your eyes widened and a gasp left your mouth, Jungwoo smirked at your reaction. His hands were cold, ice cold.

He wasn't warm anymore and you retracted your hand away immediately. You felt yourself growing weaker as the seconds passed.

"How can you n-not love me?" You felt yourself shiver.

He just laughed at your question "What you think I'd ever love you?" He pointed at you accusingly "Just because you are the queen of hearts doesn't mean you're invincible" he said smirking and your eyes widened in fear and you fell to the ground, the coldness spreading through you quickly.

He stole every heart you had ever stolen from you. Leaving you empty.

"H-how d-did you k-know?" You managed to get out through chattering teeth, your body slowly growing colder "A-are you the King" white puffs of air surrounded you as you spoke. He couldn't be.

"King?" He laughed the smirk never leaving his lips. He bent down to your level "Don't you think you would have realised if I was the King of hearts?" He said grabbing onto your chin and staring into your dying eyes. Your eyes widened as you struggled to speak and to move away from the man.

How could you have been so stupid? You should have seen the signs- you were always where Jungwoo was more than he was where you were, you were obsessing over him when it should have been the other way round and you admitted to loving him before he admitted to loving you. He tricked you, he made you feel loved only to remind you that you were never going to get a love that lasts because you didn't have a heart and there was no love strong enough in this world that would never fade away, it was meant to always be that way. But you couldn’t help but slip this one time, letting yourself fall in love. He was draining you off all the hearts you had, leaving you lifeless. And the worst part was you let him. You let this happen but yet you couldn't hate yourself for loving him. Even as it slowly killed you.

He let out a soft chuckle. "Not that powerful in front of the Ace of hearts now are you?" he said throwing his coat over his shoulder walking out the front door with all the hearts that once belonged to you as well as the life that once belonged to you as you slowly faded into nothingness.

A/n: So I showed this to my friend and she hated the fact that this has a sad ending so I do have a alternate happy ending for this fic but I'm not sure if I should post it or not?

[beingatoaster]

Any of the following: Mr. Marshon Hessel and the color Pink, Kolya and a stork, Sassafrass and Silver

Sorry this took so long, I ended up trying to do something for all of them (though that shouldn't come as a surprise). Here you are! :D

Marshon Hessel - pink

Marshon stands by quietly as the Whisperer readies his mirror. He has the head and scales of a coral corn snake, white and pale pink with dark maroon eyes. Light-sensitive, Marshon would guess, if he's anything like the actual snake, but that shouldn't be a problem for him here in the depths of Skybreach City.

If he was born a malison, which he likely was, with full scale coverage and the rank of Whisperer, he's lucky that he wasn't culled in his youth. The priests do tend to be less ruthless with the highest ranks of malison, given their relative rarity, but the malisons take pride in policing themselves. Perhaps he has some special talent that kept his tutors and caretakers from giving him up for sacrifice, or perhaps Herinessa chose him young enough that they hadn't decided yet if his strengths outweighed the weakness. Or both.

He would like to report to the archimandrite himself, but it would be an insult to any Whisperer who knew of it to carry his own mirror. It was easier when her Speakers were about, able to channel her mind--but most of those have been evacuated from the area as the taint of Merrshaulk's death spreads, and those who were not removed in time had to be put down. Marshon would only be wasting her time and his own to go west or east when there is a Whisperer here in Skybreach to transmit his report.

Even if it means he has to listen to the malison hiss out his name contemptuously, as if Deacon Firebrand wasn't just as much at fault for the error. Marshon had expected that. It's just as before--he came in to a well-established local cell with authority he possessed only in name, with no way to enforce it, and of course the locals hold him at fault for any error in following their instructions. He's aware that he is at fault, thought not in the way that they think. It's his lack of charisma, his inability to be convincing, that leads to these disasters. He's gone from behind honored at his archimandrite's trust to wishing that she would stop expecting so much from him, when he clearly cannot deliver.

"Hessel," the Whisperer says, contempt still heavy on his tongue, and beckons him forward. "The archimandrite has instructions for you."

Marshon steps forward, into view of the mirror, and bows his head. "Archimandrite. I obey, as always."

"As always," she agrees, her tongue flicking from her mouth. "To the best of your ability."

He can't help but stare, out of the corner of his eye, at the beauty of her scales. Piebald is one of the few morphs among ball pythons that isn't culled at hatching, because it comes with no health issues, but it can't have made her progress as a python-form any easier. He knows it's one reason she is only an archimandrite, at her seniority, and not a bishop. Though none loyal to Sseth have been bishops for generations of priests, with the hierarchy so dominated by Merrshaulk's servants. She will change that someday. Marshon believes it. He only wishes he could do more to help her rise.

"To the best of my ability," he agrees, taking the rebuke as it's meant, absorbing the sting without expression. He won't embarrass himself further in front of her or the malison by showing the clawing desperate need inside his chest for redemption. She'll offer it to him or she won't. That choice isn't his.

"Leave the oracle. Sseth has his own, and if she is so determined not to serve, such powers cannot be forced. Perhaps it is for the best that she has escaped." There's nothing to read in her face but the slow blink of her eyes, one black, one red, but he can't help but wonder, irrationally, if she's pleased. If she'd been one step ahead, and had found a way to make his failure actually serve her. Not that he can ask.

Beside him, the Whisperer bows his head, showing no emotion, but Marshon is sure that this acceptance of the loss hasn't improved his opinion of Marshon one bit. "As you wish, archimandrite."

"Yes." She doesn't even look at him, her gaze still fixed on Marshon. "There are greater troubles afoot. Certain agents--you know them well, Marshon--have disrupted our works in the fortress-cities of the Ratherunites. It may be relevant that they have done so at the same time that the corruption has removed my direct influence from the area, or it may not, but either way it weakens our stance just as Sesshel is mobilizing his people to the south. There will be blood spilled to feed that which we do not wish fed, sooner or later."

"I see," Marshon says, miserably aware that this is also on his shoulders. If he'd killed them at first meeting, the archimandrite wouldn't be left trying to turn dross to gold where they're concerned. He can't read her subsequent attempts to use them any other way.

"It is possible they could be used to balance the scales, and do similar harm to Sesshel's work before he can fully mobilize. I am considering the options there. In the meantime, Marshon, I need you to go west, to the Heshava Temple. There is a Speaker they were able to salvage, and they will give you further instructions."

"Yes, Archimandrite."

She nods, and without a further word to either him or the Whisperer, the mirror mists over, then goes blank.

The moment her visage has vanished, the Whisperer rounds on him. "You are fortunate she did not have me punish you, Hessel. I suppose she's saving you for the Heshava altar, though that's a higher honor than you deserve."

"I know," Marshon says. He doubts that's what he's destined for, not because of her affection for her--inexplicable as her tolerance of his faults is--but because he knows as well as the Whisperer that he's not worthy of Sseth's altar. Willingness makes any sacrifice worthy, he knows that part of the liturgy, but... he could feign that to other sserstii. Would, if she left him no other choice. For her, he would pretend to be as brave as she expects from him.

Still, he's grateful to be given another task, another chance, once again put to her use instead of culled as would truly be proper. Marshon bows to the Whisperer, says the right words, and leaves the pink-and-white malison behind in his secret chambers as he strides down the hallways of the monastery at Skybreach City's heart. He has travel to arrange for. Maybe this time he'll actually succeed in the duty that he's been given.

***

Kolya - stork

The birds are beautiful, in their own fierce way, stalking majestically across the swamp to either side of the road. Every now and then one of those sharp-beaked heads darts downward on a long neck, and then comes back up with beak clamped tight around a lizard or frog or salamander or fish. The bird will throw it head back, swallow down its wriggling prey, and then resume its gliding pace.

Kolya can't help but wonder how much they might taste like chicken.

It's not like she hasn't been eating. She's caught her own fish and lizards, though not as well as they're doing it--it takes her more time and effort, for less reward. But she's out of rations, and a couple of fish and a lizard a day just isn't much for someone of her size. The longer she goes without a hearty meal, the weaker she grows. It's not too noticeable now. It will be very soon. Bugbears can't handle such a minimal diet. Her body wants to hibernate, to sleep through the lean times before she runs so low on body fat that she can't make it all the way to spring, unaware that it isn't winter here and that waiting for the seasons to change isn't what she needs to survive.

Picking up a stick from the side of the road, Koyla tries throwing it like a javelin at one of the storks. It almost hits, but at the last minute the bird leaps aside, and a second later it, and all the rest she can see, are in the air and winging up and away. Just as every other time she's tried that. No stick is as good as a javelin, and frankly, they've never been her strength. She can't sneak up on them, either; no matter how carefully she avoids splashing, just moving through the water behind them is enough to alert them that she's there.

Grumbling under her breath, she continues along the road. It's nearly an hour, and a good long stretch of distance, before she starts seeing storks again. Always the same: that gliding stalk, that quick darting movement, the throat working as they swallow. Watching them makes her stomach burn with jealousy. Or maybe that's just hunger.

Near the end of the day, she's offered a distraction. There's a tree growing right beside the road, great and gnarled, its roots stretching out humped up in all directions. Between two of those roots that the road seems to be built over is a little stone altar. Kolya can't read the text graven on it, has no idea what kind of god it must be for. Certainly not any of the gods of her home city, nor the one whose star she wears at her throat. But it must be a god to do with the swamp, for there are carved stone figures around the altar, frogs and snakes and salamanders, all looking towards it, and towering above them all a pair of solemn stone cranes.

Well, her god or not, Kolya knows better than to ignore a roadside altar. She digs around in her pack for something worth offering. There's some jewelry here that she's stopped wearing, and she pries a ring off her finger, too, one she rather liked, so that the god doesn't think they're only getting discards. She piles it up on the altar, in the small concave bowl at the center of it that she first has to brush clear of leaves and water.

Gold and silver--all right, brass and pewter and one silver-plated ring that's worn mostly down to the baser metal beneath--don't seem like appropriate offerings for a god in a swamp, but that's all she has. Kolya mumbles an apology, then touches the star at her throat and silently asks her god to shield her from any anger the swamp's god might feel. Might as well be covered on all fronts.

She makes camp on the road itself, beside the altar, since she's certainly not going to sleep in the swamp. Wading out into the muck to catch her own two fish, and this time a salamander, is bad enough. Kolya leaves her sandals and her greaves behind, loathe to let them be muddied, and leaves them off while she dries her feet beside the fire. She'll brush the dried mud out of her fur before she sleeps, and put them back on clean feet in the morning.

Late at night, movement near her fading fire startles Kolya awake. She lays still, but tenses her muscles one by one, warming them up for action, as she slits her eyes open. There's a shape there, tall and majestic, long thin neck and long thin feet and long sharp beak. One eye glints in the glow of the banked embers as that head comes down, darting as if to grab--but instead it drops something clutched in its beak. It turns and stalks off, down the slope of the road into the swamp, then returns, minutes, later, and drops something else. And a third offering, and a fourth.

Kolya lays still in her bedroll. She doesn't understand what's going on, but she senses that it would be a bad idea to interfere. As she watches, the stork comes and goes, two more times, then walks off, not into the swamp, but towards the alter. Kolya dares to roll over in time to see it freeze in place where one of the stone storks stands, had stood, and then the glint goes from its eye as it becomes stone once more.

In the morning, there's a pile of dead fish beside her fire, the heartiest breakfast Kolya's had in a while. She cooks them, enjoys the meal, and then pulls two more bracelets from her wrist with only the slightest pang and sets them with the others on the altar. A god willing to feed her is the best kind of god there is, so this one deserves to have plenty of things that shine.

***

Sassafras - silver

"Thank you!" Sassafras calls after the Rattata as they head on down the street, leaving her behind on the corner. She'd seen the glint of copper when they tossed their two coins into her fiddle-case, but copper is better than nothing, and two copper is twice what most people who do tip her give. "Thank you very much!"

Smiling at the folk crossing by, she raises her fiddle back onto her shoulder and begins to play again. She's run through all the songs she knows today, and is on her way to going all the way through them a second time. Her claws and arms are starting to ache. But this is the first big city she's been in, and the people don't seem to stop coming and going, so to stop is to give up on getting tips for the day. Her purse is too empty for that.

It's getting near to dark, or at least to dinnertime. A family of Growlithes walks by, the parents hand-in-hand, their three children slowing down at the music. The parents stop and smile indulgently as the children start to dance. Grinning at them, Sassafras slides from the song she'd been playing into an actual dance tune. They don't seem to be expert enough for the reels, but this is fast and cheerful and has a clear rhythm, and the children squeal and laugh as they dance together, alternately joining hands and tripping each other up.

When they look like they're starting to get worn out, Sassafras slows down again, shifting back towards a quieter tune. One of the parents starts to gather the children up, and the other steps forward, bending down to put a few coins into the fiddle-case. Sassafras, still smiling at the children, doesn't really look to see what they are at first.

"Thank you!" she calls after them, as they move on. The parent who isn't busy herding children smiles over their shoulder and waves at her, and then the group is gone, vanishing into the hurrying evening crowds.

Sassafras plays a few more tunes, but no one else seems inclined to stop and pay attention. With how swiftly it's getting dark, she can't blame them. Finally she winds down to the end of a lament and stops there, letting the last note quaver out into the air for a long minute before she takes the bow off the strings and bends to move the money in her fiddle-case into her purse. At least twenty copper, that's good, and-

There's *silver*, too, pale against the copper. Three coins of it. Sassafras can't help but whistle in delight, startling a passerby. It has to have been the Growlithe, because it hadn't been there before. Crooning softly to herself in joy at her haul, Sassafras tucks them down into the bottom of her purse. She'll pay for tonight's rent in copper, but she's keeping that silver, at least until she has enough more to buy something nice with it. Some fancier clothes, maybe. It will be nice to have a reminder in her purse that someone thinks her music is worth that much.

[blackevermore]

x Secrets of The Lake: The Company of Misery and Pain

{ Chapter 9 }

Summary: Vladimir Masters’ family tree has always been tainted by secrets swept under the rug. From generation to generation there have been countless reasons the Masters’ family had seemed to keep private from the public. Even to this day, Vladimir was no exception. But what was one to do when a restless spirit from the settlement years finally breaks free from restraints and demands you answer for your ancestor’s crimes? Vladimir doesn’t know. However, Clockworks does.

Notes: We just having fun, rewriting some of the canon, new adventure new characters. I will apologize now for any grammar, spelling, weird sentence structuring in advance. My brain writes faster than my fingers and even when I go back through to reread it I still miss things. Sorry about that!

Word Count: 3725

P.s: I think it's best if I tell you now the flashbacks are out of order I should have said that earlier but never late than never for a long story owob

Vlad laid across the faint couch trying to recall all that had happened, the more he put everything in order the more he felt his brain about to melt. Danny took it upon himself to watch over Tayonna who was now being held captive in the guest room that had now been converted to a giant ghost trap. Vlad would have thrown her in the basement had it not been a complete mess. Honestly, he would have done a lot more had it not been for Danny playing hero, or Dani needing to be comforted. 

This day had gone to complete shit and Vlad knew as soon as he stepped back into his workspace there would be questions. And for every question would be a white lie that covered up the whole water pipe story. Grumbling a butter biscuit or a fudge muffin, Vlad rolled his head to the side and stared mindlessly into the fireplace in front of him. He could still taste the plasma in the back of his throat even though the endless teeth brushing and mouthwash. He even tried to drown it down with a drink but all that did was make it worse. That also upset his stomach even more and he made way towards the nearest bathroom to another unpleasant round. 

The mist had scared him. Vlad had never seen anything like it on Earth nor in the Ghost Zone. The way it slid off his body like heavy smoke felt unbelievably weird and made Vlad shiver. It felt almost like an essence of himself was pulling from his body and forming into a very upset vision. Vlad tried his best not to walk past mirrors when he wasn’t in a good mood. Anger was a face he had grown used to but sadness and misery were faint expressions he buried deep inside. The few times he couldn’t help but look he could only focus on how dark his blue eyes got and the way his face grew longer than it was. It was haunting to see or feel complete utter sadness, and that’s exactly what the mist looked like. ‘Like the day you got their wedding invitation’.

“She’s awake!” Dani shot through the door flying above Vlad, she still looked as if she would rather be somewhere else but the hero inside her pushed her to keep helping. Vlad secretly praised her as he slowly sat up and clenched his chest again. The shocks were long gone but he could still feel a sudden zap here and there, along with the sudden tighten and release around his human heart. He strongly hoped he would never have to do that again. It was already an awkward feeling shoving his own hand through his chest. Dani flew down to take his arm to help him up but Vlad held up a hand to stop her as he made it to his feet. He took a deep breath and took a small step, the shock made his energy a bit slow to regenerate, when he found a steady pace he followed Dani out the room and towards the bedroom hallways. 

Vlad could call himself paranoid the way he boobytrapped his homes. He himself was a ghost but yet every door was equipped with anti-ghost bars that were turned on by command that could cut off any exit. The statues that decorated the walkways all had blasters installed in either the eyes or the base. Once he and Danny found their common ground he made sure to update the system so Danny wouldn’t be a target anymore. 

But Vlad did enjoy that first week of Danny showing up and having to dance like a monkey when the signals were tripped. When he made it to the bedroom/cell he gave the system command to dismiss the bars and walked inside. Danny sat on the floor closer to the door watching Tayonna who now sat up in the corner of the bed against the wall. Her head hung low and she tried to curl into herself. However, when Vlad walked into the room her head shot up and she stared at him with pure hatred. Dani stayed outside and a few feet away from the door. She didn’t want to be anywhere near Tayonna.

Vlad only rolled his eyes and huffed before crossing his arms behind his back and clearing his throat to Danny.

“Any progress?” Vlad asked, never breaking eye contact with Tayonna. If she wished to insert her dominance in his home, he would have to show her who was really in charge.

“I wish, she just woke up and backed into the corner. But she is messing with my head a bit. I almost had a breakdown about a cookie I didn’t eat and threw away.” Danny got to his feet and stretched, hearing all of his bones crack at once. With a sudden heavy sigh, he turned to Vlad and tapped his foot. The older halfa eyed him confused and mouthed a ‘what is it?’. Danny’s face twisted to an annoyed eye roll before he caught himself and backed away a bit.

“Whoa, yeah, see she’s doing it again, I almost punched the hell out of you for breathing the wrong way.” Danny held his head and turned back towards Tayonna. The ghost was still shooting daggers at Vlad and even breathing heavily as if she was about to attack him. “Well if she can’t get to you she sure was gonna use me. Dude, you gotta fix whatever this is.”

“I’m well aware of that, Daniel, It’s not as if I asked to be in this situation in the first place.” Vlad hissed. The constant reminder that he had to fix this was starting to run him up a wall. Vlad took a moment to straighten himself out and breathe before he walked closer to Tayonna. The girl didn’t flinch or move from her spot as Vlad now stood at the edge of the large bed. He kept his hands behind his back to keep it cool and unbothered. Vlad knew he had authoritative energy that could make anyone cowardly at his feet. Tayonna would surely give in eventually and tuck her tail between her legs.

“Now, Miss Tayonna, won't you tell us all why you felt it was utterly necessary to invite yourself into my home and cause so much trouble?” Vlad tried to not sound pissed off, but every word that left his lips he threw like acid. Tayonna’s eyes grew wide then narrowed like a snake as she stayed quiet and continued their staring contest. “Or more importantly, how did you change from your ghost form to a human form.” Vlad pointed out, which seemed to catch Tayonna’s attention before she looked back towards him then away. Vlad huffed angrily and brought his arms forward to cross them.

“You think she’s one of us?” Danny called out. “I mean it would be very rare if she was. What were your ancestors getting up to?” Danny pushed off the wall he was leaning against and came up beside Vlad, he stayed somewhat behind the man hesitantly.

“I don’t believe halfas would exist during her time, she is very much a ghost that has the ability to mimic powers it seems. I figured she must have attached herself to my core and in turn, she mimics my energy. The reason why she could control my electric power so easily.” Vlad hummed, a mimicking ghost was a rather dangerous type especially if they had to latch on to you. For a moment Vlad felt his annoyance and frustration slip away as the science side of him became interested in what more Tayonna could do. With the cuffs still on her along with the anti-ghost rope she was pretty much defenseless to any poking and probing Vlad wanted to do. Those little activities would have to wait, a certain Phantom wouldn’t be too happy to know Vlad was back on his bullshit. Nor would the older halfa wish to explain to the youngest who would definitely tell the other.

“So if she’s not going to talk to either of us, what do we do?” Danny finally asked the big question Vlad had been avoiding. He had thought of just throwing her back into the Ghost Zone and making sure that secret space she came from she couldn’t get out of. Maybe even have Skulker keep an eye on her every so often to make sure she wouldn’t start screaming again or getting out. Or maybe Vlad could keep her here but somehow figure out a way to get rid of her himself. Clockwork did tell him to handle the situation. Vlad was knocked from his thoughts by the sound of paper hitting the ground. Both Danny and Vlad heard it and looked down towards their feet. A small sheet of paper laid at Vlad’s and he reached down to pick it up. He should have known who it was from before he flipped it over.

“Pieces in a puzzle with only two corners will always be bound together” - CW

“What does that mean?” Danny hovered over Vlad's shoulder causing the man to jump away from the sudden scare. Danny cracked a smile at how easy it was to make the man jump then pointed back towards the note. 

Vlad rolled the card in his fingers a bit and sighed, “Clockwork sure likes his sayings. You know that more than I, I’m just as confused.” Vlad lazily handed Danny the card and told him to keep it. Vlad was once again looking towards Tayonna to make sure she hadn’t tried anything. She still huddled up in the corner but now she looked so sad, blinking slowly and staring down as if it was a void. Vlad felt his heart slow and grow heavy as he watched her. 

There it was again, that feeling of wanting to reach out and hold her, and there it went as Vlad mentally screamed at himself to get it together. She was just using her emotional powers somehow despite having the handcuffs still on. Yet Vlad couldn’t pull himself away from her and whatever she was doing. Then Vlad saw it from the corner of his eye, the mist started to rise off his skin and droop to the floor before inching closer to the bed. Danny saw it too but didn’t say anything, all he could do was watch alongside Vlad as the mist formed an outstretched hand and reached out to Tayonna. When the hand touched her she pulled away and tried to fight it off. 

“Leave me alone, you’ve already done enough, stop touching me.” Tayonna had finally spoken and she sounded so broken. Vlad felt a sting in his heart and unknowingly he wished for the hand to go away. The hand tried to touch her again but before it could it faded away with the rest of the mist.

“Um…?” Danny started and Vlad finally pulled himself away from looking at the ghost and turned away towards the door.

“I don’t know,” Vlad couldn’t even fake a sense of understanding as he felt his heartache and his mind become foggy with a sudden sadness. He quickly covered his face when he felt tears peak in the corners of his ears. He quickly wiped them away before Danny could ask what was going on and he straightened himself up. “I think it’s best if I keep her here for the night. It’s late and the both of you have school tomorrow.” Vlad looked at Danny then at the door as he saw Dani slowly poking her head in. He hoped she didn’t see the way he wiped his face, that would be embarrassing. “Daniel, why won't you stay the night and in the morning I’ll have Jackson come and drive both of you to school.” Danny looked back towards Tayonna and felt a sudden rush of sadness. He shivered and threw up his hands to protest.

“Thanks but I would rather not be around someone who's gonna make me have a mental breakdown at 2 am. I can do that in my own time with my special playlist. I’ll just fly home.” Danny turned ghost and started to hover off the ground. Vlad nodded and was ready to dismiss the boy till he remembered Dani at the door. 

“You wouldn’t mind hosting Danielle until this is all over would you? I rather she is safe as well.” Vlad asked, feeling the father in him swell with the need to protect.

Danny turned around and cocked ahead to the side to see Dani but she ducked behind the frame, “You wanna go back home with me, short stack?”

“Don’t call me that!” Dani stuck her head through the wall and stuck her tongue out. She then took a moment to look around and take a glance at Tayonna before pulling her head back out. “Yeah, that would be nice.” Dani’s voice was low with anxiousness. Vlad let out a heavy sigh and nodded for Danny to go help Dani and hurry home. It would be best if he was alone with this problem. That was enough people in one night to be in danger.

When the kids were gone Vlad gently waved them away before closing the door and floating back up to the room Tayonna was in. He stood outside the anti-ghost bars peering in as Tayonna now laid on the bed. ‘What exactly is it that you want, Miss Tayonna?’ he thought to himself as he backed away from the door and haunted away towards his own bedroom. 

Vladan knew better than to snoop around the house like some paranoid townsmen. There was enough of that when his family travelled into the town square since they were German. It seemed like the English still had a stick up their ass when it came to others joining them. Everyone was an outsider in one way or another but yet found a way to put each other in a ranking system for security. Vladan grunted at his wandering thoughts as he walked around the cottage. Settling in a few days ago was easy but it was still beyond him why they had to be so far away. Could his father not settle closer to the others for a quicker journey? Vladan knew better than to question his father’s mind, Vladan had learned early every man has a secret that only gets revealed with due time. Luckily for him, Luther had no secrets Vladan hadn’t already heard, and vice versa.

Vladan wasn’t really a nature person as he was a man who sat by the fire and read. But something pulled him from his bed that morning and told him to go out and look around. His parents were gone and took the house servants and Luther was still sick in bed so Vladan took his chance. As he rounded the back of the house he heard someone praying. Praying? On a Tuesday? Vladan would have laughed, he wasn’t much of a religious man like everyone else, but the sheer thought of someone praying by his house nerved him. He slowed his pace and peeked around the edge of the wood and saw Tayonna. She kneeled to the ground in a patch of grass surrounded by cups and bowls. Vladan narrowed his eyes confused as to why she would be outside and what she was doing. He couldn’t help but watch her as she bowed a few times and mumbled incoherent words. This must have been a thing her people did before being brought over, that was the only thing he could think of. But as he watched her it seemed like things only got weirder. 

Tayonna stopped praying and frantically looked around herself for something. She then snapped her fingers and a basket that was placed behind her snapped open and a jar hovered out and to her hands. She then swirled her finger in the air and drops from the freshly rained grass rose to the air and formed balls. She waved for the biggest ball to fall into the bowl and she began to pour other things from the cups into the bowl. When she was finished mixing everything she placed the bowl in front of her and bowed face down into the grass. He could hear her mumbling again and then the bowl began to glow. Vladan felt his body shake in fear but also pure curiosity. He knew what he was seeing, the men at his university spoke of them like fairy tales, he even spoke of them like fairy tales. Tayonna was a witch. He hadn’t noticed he had walked out from his hiding place and walked closer to the girl until he heard her scream. Tayonna fell to her butt and tried to put space between them. She begged him not to hurt her and that’s when Vladan snapped fully out of his trance.

“I’m not going to hurt you, woman!” Vladan growled, holding out his hands to calm her so she didn’t wake Luther. Tayonna finally made it to her feet and gathered her dress, she looked between Vladan and the forest that stretched on behind them. Vladan looked then shook his head. “Don’t you dare!” He lunged and quickly grabbed her wrist and pulled her against his body to hold her down. Tayonna was about to let out a scream which wouldn’t do any of them any good so he quickly covered her mouth. They stood there struggling with each other until Vladan brought them both to their knees.

“I’m not going to hurt you unless you give me a reason to. I will remove my hand and you will answer every question I have. Do you understand?” Vladan couldn’t explain why he was giving this servant a chance to explain herself. But he felt he needed to. Tayonna was still shaking but she calmed down just enough to shake her head slowly. Vladan removed his hand from her mouth and spun her around to face him, he never removed his hands from her arms just in case. “You are a witch and there is no denying it. Are you cursing my family, if you are I will have you dealt with.” 

“I am not cursing your family, master Vladan, I was blessing the house.” Tayonna kept her head low and chose not to fight to get her arms away from him. She didn’t want to be hit or attacked.

“Blessing?” Vladan was taken back and it showed on his face.

“Everyone has been so kind to me and I do not wish to be sold again. I wish to stay until I die and can fly back home. Please do not sell me...I won't do it again...please do not sell me.” Tayonna began to cry and Vladan pulled away from her allowing her to fall to the ground. Witches are all bad, right? All the fairy tales he was told as a child and all the legends of witches only pointed to them being evil beings that caused only trouble.

“Witches are only bad things. Witches do not pray.” Vladan said abruptly and pointed at the girl. “You are trying to deceive me with lies. Are you the reason my brother has been sick the whole time? Do not lie to me!” Vladan hadn’t meant to raise his voice but it came out so fast.

“No! I have only done things to make him better. He was sicker before I arrived and he slowly gets better the more I help.” Tayonna was telling the truth, their mother had only good things to say when it came to Luther’s health recently. Luther had even offered to go to town for their father because he ‘felt up to it’. Vladan was still skeptical but he didn’t truly sense evil coming from the girl. And since he had seen how comfortable she made his brother feel he didn’t believe she would want to kill them so quickly.

“You’ve been helping him? How?” Vladan asked, kneeling slowly to face her. Tayonna raised her head and backed away before answering him.

“His baths, I put the herbs in his bath to calm his senses and ease the pain. It’s not much but it’s enough to help him through the day.”

“Will my brother become healthy again and be able to travel back home?” Vladan had to know, he had to know if his brother will grow old as he and live a fulfilled life. That was his best friend. “Please tell me.” Vladan reached out and took hold of Tayonna’s shoulders and shook her a bit and the girl stiffened before quickly shaking her head ‘no’.

“Your brother was not meant to live this life with you. He was only supposed to be here for a while until he left. I’ve tried to convince the earth to let him stay but it seems that even he is ready.” Tayonna lowered her head again and Vladan finally let go of her and rose to his feet. A heavy silence fell over them as Vladan tried to debunk her words. Surely his brother would live long, they had promised so long ago, but the feeling Vladan got from Tayonna that she only told him the truth. “He was so happy to have you here with him, Master Vladan. He speaks so highly of you, the best brother he could ever have, a best friend.” Tayonna slowly got up wiping her face with her hand and kept space between them, there was no telling how Vladan felt towards her after this. Vladan looked up towards the small window that led to Luther’s room then back down to the ground. He clenched his fist a couple of times trying to fight back tears and sighed.

“Do my parents know you are a witch?” Vladan asked, and Tayonna quickly shook her head ‘no’.

“Does he know you are a witch?” Vladan finally asked.

Tayonna looked up at him with her bright green eyes now tinted red from crying then towards the window, “He was the one that insisted on buying me.”

[dongiovannaswife]

You know that Gio's hair became blond when he awakened his Stand, right? Now imagine if GE was taken away in an attack, leaving behind his user with a long, bright dark mane on his shoulders...

As far as I know (or understand what happened lol) Giorno’s hair is a characteristic inherited from Dio (I think Jotaro said something like “that comes from Dio’s genes”?) BUT reading this ask inspired me. I know it’s not a request, but I mean, this is gold. And I want to comment that YES FUCKING YES! Gio would look good with black hair —not like blond doesn’t suit him, no, but I mean, it’d be interesting to see how it gets solved, how it happens, and all that. Another note before we start: this happens 12 years after Vento Aureo. Giorno’s s/o is a capo from passion; female pronouns.

The door to the mansion flew open. Three figures —the one in the middle significantly bigger than the other two— stepped over the door, the smaller men struggling to carry the man in the middle, mumbling curses under their breath as the steps descending the stairs thundered around the lobby, making the storm outside sound like nothing.

“What the—“

“(Y/n)!” breathed out Mista, sweat dripping down his forehead as he and Fugo maneuvered one last time to let Giorno fall on the couch with a loud thud and… Not a single groan of pain or relief from him.

“Please,” started Fugo, kneeling in the floor to catch his breath, “bring the first aid kit—“

She huffed, not exactly mad, but worried. “I need to see if we’ll need something else so I can ca—“

The lights turned on with a flick of the light switch.

The man in the couch barely breathed, form hunched over himself, not enough to curl around himself, but enough to let his head fall forwards and expose the dirt in the white shirt and the cuffs around his elbows; the cuts in the palms of his hands and the blood falling in the carpet, staining it. He seemed out of breath.

But he didn’t looked like Giorno Giovanna.

He had black hair.

(Y/n) turned to the men in the floor, confusion written all over her face.

“What happened?”

Fugo snorted bitterly; an angered, sad smile making his lips twitch upwards and fall again with a huff of exhaustion. “He… lost his stand. His soul, technically.”

Silence.

“Do we have a culprit?”

It was Mista’s turn to huff and look down at his gun with a miserable expression. “Yes. But he’s stronger than us now —if Giorno lost his Gold Experience Requiem, what makes you think we won’t lost our stands, which are regular ones?”  

Giorno’s voice, usually grave, proud and strong like a lion’s groaning now low, raspy and tired: like a dying lion in the coliseum after falling against a gladiator.

“Before Gold Experience disappeared from my conscience he told me he can’t use the stand he gets, only recollect them. Don’t let Ghoul touch you.”

Fugo’s eyes opened with wonder, mouth falling open. Mista’s eyebrows furrowed, hand inside his pocket in a nervous gesture.

“Gio?” she asked carefully as to not scare him, getting closer. Upon touching the armrest of the couch, she sat down beside him. Shaking hand trying to reach for his. “Do you—“

“What makes you think he’ll gave it back? I doubt he’ll say oh I’m sorry mister, here, have your soul back.” Fugo snapped finally, standing from the floor. It was unclear what came over him, maybe the pent up frustration and the lost sight of Giorno’s eyes, now grey in the lack of a soul. Eyes are the windows to the soul, and without soul, there’s nothing.

Giorno’s resolve is still there, somehow. Inexplicably. Maybe it something that comes from deeper, or maybe it’s a family thing.

“Who said he would want to give it back? We’ll make him want to.” Mista interrupted, saving Giorno from talking more; he kept curling around himself in desperate need of something not clear yet.

She finally took the Don’s hand helping him lay down, and upon hearing his tired huff, she looked at the men. “Call Vittorio —he’s perfect for this mission; tell him to bring his team.”

Fugo nodded, and followed by Mista, both rushed out the room.

 

 

Three hours later and with the fourteen men from La Squadra di Esecuzione and their leader standing now in the lobby of the mansion, the last preparations for the mission started.

Before leaving, Vittorio entered the Don’s bedroom after knocking at the door and having permission to; the man in the bed looked weak despite his muscular form: the dark hair in a man bun at the nape of his neck, grey eyes lost in the walls, staring at the pieces of art hanging from the walls.

It made Vittorio sick. He was used to the powerful, strong and composed Don. Always sitting straight with a leg crossed elegantly over the other and a calm glint shining through the teal eyes: the man in the bed had nothing in common with him. But Vittorio knew he was still there when that determination flashed through his eyes when he looked at him, eyelids falling, mouth dry and undying resolve.

“I trust you with this, Ventura.”

Those words, he could swear, would be written over his heart.  

Two hours later, they were hunting down the bastard. And after receiving deep cuts from one of his men’s stands —and taking three stands more, leaving those three men out of the fight— Vittorio finally stood before him. Breathless after what he would call a dramatic fighting scene from a movie, and an anecdote he’d tell in future reunions; that, if he made it.

“What makes you think you’ll kill me?” he asked. Murolo’s reports said his name is Cornetto; the rest the history of a life full of incidents. Infortunes that lead him to seek the criminal life. Vittorio didn’t felt shame for him.

“What makes you think I’ll say something like that? —kiddo, if there’s something you should know is that, in this business, we don’t say that until the work is done. Only then, when you lay in the floor, we tell you; when you can’t hear us anymore.” Vittorio’s smirk grew as he saw Cornetto groan and summon his stand; it looked like a reaper; long extremities, black cloak and empty eyes.

The stand approached him fast, claws exposed under the light of the day and a deafening cry before Square Hammer appeared in a green glint. The papal ferula swinging in the air, spreading with it grin smoke.

“My soul is not tainted for I have already sworn loyalty to someone else —you cannot have my soul; Square Hammer won’t let you, and neither will him. Now, Cornetto, this just became a strategy battle. Just like nature, the wind blows, the flowers float away and the strong hunts the weak. It’s how things are.”

Cornetto’s face concerned in terror as his eyes made contact with the stand’s one.

 

They say a soul weighs only twenty one grams, but for Vittorio, those twenty one grams made his chest feel some sort of relief. Carrying the core essence of the Don was something he never thought he’ll do, and still, he found himself being escorted back by his men: Square Hammer’s hand holding the sphere of light with shimmering light around it, observing it closely every now and then, humming and muttering something as his usual growl.

 

“Try calling him out, boss.”

Giorno sat in the end of the bed, sweat dripping down his forehead and hand clenching around his shirt as the pain from his soul entering his body back slowed, grey giving up under teal.

“Don’t pressure him, Vittorio.” (Y/n) answered, hand on her hips and eyebrows furrowed in worry.

“It’s— it’s okay, cara.” Giorno’s voice, progressively gaining back its qualities answered as he threw his hand back, bringing the sheet of the bed to his lap. Then, closing his eyes and picturing what he wanted to make.

A gasp made him open his eyes and find in his lap a small golden retriever looking up at him with big and playful eyes.

When Gold Experience Requiem finally appeared at his side, leaning over his shoulder and bowing at (Y/n), Giorno’s hair have already turned golden again.    

[softforcal]

What each song on Fine Line Reminds me of

Golden

-the sound of rain hitting a windowpane

-a montage of someone preparing to face their fears and defeat something

-Feeling like you’re sort of not enough, but also simultaneously knowing you sort of are

-Worshiping and loving someone else so completely it makes you want to write poetry and sing and dance in the summer rain

-Being unsure about being happy with yourself and preferring to use someone else as a crutch in a relationship or love as a self-medicated drug

-missing something until your chest hurts

-conflicting emotions and fear covered in false optimism

Watermelon Sugar

-the feeling of sunshine on your skin

-The taste that summer fruit and berries leave on your skin

-Juice running down your chin

-swaying to music you feel in your soul while outside and surrounded by the elements and the feeling of Earth and Nature

-The type of kiss that leaves you completely breathless and needing more

-being addicted to being with someone

-daydreaming about the person you love

-a beautiful man bobbing his head to a melody as his curls fall in front of his face but he’s too lost in the music to push them to the side

Adore You

-walking to the beat of an uplifting song

-girls wearing flavored lipgloss

-possibly unrequited love but you’re too afraid to ask

-all-consuming passion, pure and wonderful

-finding beauty in everything the person you love does

-noticing the way the sun hits your lovers' skin

-a sweet confession, or maybe a love note written and waiting to be sent

-lovers slow dancing and whispering sweet nothings into each other's ears

Lights Up

-the sun setting

-tropical sounds and music that makes you sway

-wanting to hold onto something that you can feel slipping away

-self-realization and acceptance, the will to move forward and progress

-confusions in love

-quiet acceptance

-wondering why your lover isn’t progressing with you like you wish they would

Cherry

-the pain after a heartbreak when your ex finds someone new

-the feeling of being unsure if something is wrong with you because you’re not moving on and your ex is

-rainy days in Paris

-small apartments with clutter, and everywhere you look, the ghost of your ex lingers

-noticing the smallest things you miss about your ex in everything, all your clothes seem to be tainted by what you've lost

-a hopeless feeling deep in your chest when you know someone is gone forever

-being jealous and hurt and upset

-searching to grab onto something, perhaps a pet name, and keep it your own before your ex gifts it to someone new 

Falling

-hard liquor and messy bed sheets

-words misspoken and running through your head over and over as you wish you could have changed the way things happened

-not being happy with your own company

-the nagging wonder if your ex is talking about you, not knowing if that would be good or bad

-the analyzation of everything your ex ever said

-poetry as therapy that maybe makes things worse and opens the wounds over and over again

-feeling useless

-staying in one room as it goes from light to dark to light again outside, the world continuing as you sit in a state of unmoving sadness

-not remembering what it feels like to be happy

To Be So Lovely

-the lingering taste of first love

-nostalgia 

-The mutual feeling of shock and hurt when your ex calls you baby because they’re not used to calling you by your name

-the knowledge that when you go home, your home will be empty and missing the person who used to make it feel alive

-struggling with jealousy and knowing it’s over and you shouldn’t be jealous but you still are

-exasperation

-grey clouds, mist, and soft rain

-Tearing yourself apart trying to find the reason someone important left

-breaking things in a fit of rage only to collapse and cry in your quiet room as a storm rages outside

She

-the type of woman who you catch a glimpse of once and she never leaves your mind again

-a mundane life forever changed by the image of a beautiful stranger

-the triumphant feeling of attaining a faceless stranger in a dream and knowing you’ve won, you’re not sure what, but you’ve won something

-daydreams of escape

-daydreams of lovers who know exactly what you want and are willing to give it all to you

-longing

-slow sex where you hold hands and it’s intimate even though you’re strangers, but for a moment you’re something more, something unnamed and powerful

-knowing you’ll probably wake up in an empty bed but it doesn’t matter anymore

Sunflower, Vol. 6

-a happy song coming from a convertible passing by and drifting through the warm summer air

-trying to distance yourself from someone you’re falling in love with

-the lust of kissing on a dancefloor in the intimate space of a kitchen, confusing and addicting, something that will drag you in if you’re not careful

-knowing that summer is decidedly not cuffing season

-a relationship that’s uncertain

-teetering on the edge of something amazing but terrifying at the same time

-falling in love with the domestic simplicities like a beautiful person brushing their teeth as you watch them through the bathroom mirror, leaning in the doorway quietly and enjoying the view

-cute pet names

-putting flowers in someone's hair to make them smile

Canyon Moon

-being the kind of person who moves around a lot

-having a happy place

-a hippy playing a guitar while a group of young beautiful people dance while dressed in white and barefoot

-homesickness

-when a lover shows you new music and even though they don’t know the words, it’s still the most lovely thing you’ve ever heard

-learning from a lover

-a moment so beautiful it’s captured in your memory forever and you can even taste the way the air tasted, and feel the warmth and smell the smells, even though you’re a thousand miles away and time has passed

Treat People With Kindness

-a possible intro song for a 70′s show about a huge family that are constantly fighting and has to be reminded to treat each other kindly 

-complete serotonin

-smiles that hurt your face but you don’t care, you just keep smiling

-the glass is half full

-healing

-the kind of song that lifts your soul every time you hear it

-finding a group of people who care about you and love you

-acceptance

-(how Harry feels when he’s with fans at a concert)

Fine Line

-a struggling relationship

-trying to forget by drinking but it just makes you think about it even more

-the feeling of giving in to a lover, over and over and over again

-trying your best but it’s not enough

-the sad kind of sex near the end of the relationship where you’re trying so hard to cling to that person, but part of you knows that they’re still going to leave

-trying to tell yourself you’ll be fine

-knowing in your heart that the relationship is not working

-Knowing that you won’t feel good, but that feeling will pass, someday 

[txladyj-blog]

Chapter 9 - This Time Around

a Daryl Dixon x OFC collaboration written by @xmistressmistrustx​

Rating: Explicit

Relationship: Daryl Dixon/Original Female Character

Tags: Friendship, Friends to Lovers, Awkwardness, Awkward Flirting, Awkward Crush, Fluff and Humor, Angst and Humor, Mild Smut, Strong Language, Eventual Sex, Eventual Romance, Slow Burn, Canon Divergence, Some Canon Scenes and Dialogue

Chapters 23/?

It was Daryl’s fourth hour of sweeping apartment blocks in the city. Everyone at the prison urged him to stay put, they needed him, one of their most competent and brave fighters, but his stubborn streak had prevailed and he set off for the city regardless. As he moved from one building to another, he collected any useful supplies he could carry, figuring if he could at least return to the group with some kind of offering it might count for something. He didn’t hesitate long in one place; he was aware that he needed to be with his group but a big part of him wanted to find Jess. He’d planned it all out in his head, what he would say, how he would convince her to go back with him. But first, he’d ask her what her bullshit note was about. The same note that he carried everywhere with him, burning a hole in his pocket like it was made of the cinders of his fury at her departure.

He knew when he’d found it. Stacks of books everywhere, some with wooden planks across them to make tables, graphic novels, hunting guides and medical textbooks. A balcony that was once full of flourishing herbs and fruits now torn down and scattered through the open door onto the carpet. At first glance, it could have belonged to any number of lone survivors in a city as large as Atlanta. But he knew Jess had been there when he saw the pile of neatly folded T-shirts on the arm of the couch. It was the one thing that hadn’t been torn asunder by whatever had transpired before he’d arrived. There was no sign of her now and the dried blood smeared across the interior, in particular the carpet, had darkened and started to crisp, telling him that he was at least a few days too late.

After a frantic search of every corner and his hope of footprints leading somewhere being dashed, he dropped onto the couch and leaned forwards with his elbows on his knees. His mind cast into a detailed flashback of everything that happened at the quarry and guilt gnawed in the background. He thought of her note. Who was she to tell him how he saw her? Where did she get such an idea? He’d tried to make amends and show her that the announcement of the contents of her journal didn’t matter to him. He’d tried and she still left. It bubbled under the surface, that same rage he’d endured when he first realized that she really was gone. Now, he was risking being absent at a time when his group needed him because for some reason, he couldn’t just let her go.

He lashed out, sweeping the entire contents of the coffee table across the room. Candles, empty tins and glasses collided with the wall and sent a spiraling, noisy commotion through the walls of the building and down the staircase. He watched the items from the table scatter and still felt no relief. She was gone, possibly for good. His one and only lead had come up with nothing.

                                    =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

 She dreamed of ice, licking at her toes and fingertips and creeping into her bones through sensitive skin. It was all around her, every inch of her tainted by it’s freezing embrace as she thrashed and gasped for air, her breath a white cloud expelling from her weakening body. Her heart, which felt ten times the size it should have been, compressed and struggled in her chest. She shuddered and tried to call out, tried to scream but nothing emerged on the useless huff of air that was all she could manage. Her eyes flew open. Where was she? Was she safe? Why was it so cold?

“Oh…Jesus.” She breathed as she tried to catch her breath, her freezing cold hand resting on her chest and her dream slowly drifting away, most of it anyway.

Her eyes moved up to a window. The Boat. She was in the bedroom on the boat and it was so cold she thought she might freeze to death. The inside of the glass was coated in condensation from the minimal amount of warmth that her body had given off as she slept. She drew the blankets around her and shuffled from the mattress, her socks slipping on the shiny floor. She lifted a hand and rubbed at the window with her fingertips. So cold were they that she couldn’t even feel the damp surface through the numbness in her limbs. She squinted out at the water, unsure if her eyes were playing tricks on her.

“Shit.” She hissed.

Outside on the deck, she stood with her boots on but unlaced, a thick sweater and the blankets from the bed wrapped around her. Unimpressed and irritated by the sight, she sighed slowly, rubbing her hand over her sleepy eyes and brushing her dark hair back from her face. The boat was a safe, albeit unusual choice for a sanctuary during the apocalypse but Jess found it to be everything she wanted. She was far from the shoreline which meant any Walkers or humans had to cross a lot of water to be able to get to her and her weapon-filled, floating fortress. On the roof of the cabin, she grew crops which she moved inside when she noticed the season taking a turn. Now they took up residence in a spare room inside, encouraged by an infra-red light, powered by a small generator which still had enough juice to be switched on for an hour or so every day.

She learned how to fish, catching her meals easily most days after conducting an experiment with a stray dog on the beach that proved the life in the lake was untouched by whatever had turned the human race. The boat was quite the picturesque scene, peaceful and still luxurious even given the situation. But heat was becoming an issue and no number of candles could change the fact that her route to the land was now covered with ice, rendering her unable to fish and eat for the foreseeable future. As far as she could see, the layer stretched from the boat to the shore, the edge of it bumping against the boats hull beneath her feet.

She rolled her eyes and vanished inside, immediately setting about packing her things in order to move on yet again. She told herself she would return once the weather was better and had no plans to move out completely, she kept the key to the cabin in her pocket and eventually climbed into the canoe which split the ice around it into jagged pieces from the movement of the water underneath. With her machete, she smashed at the cold surface between rowing. It was a painfully slow process that left her frustrated and sweating despite the below zero temperature but progress was progress and as she neared the beach, she began to feel a sense of achievement. She climbed out of the boat and onto the jetty, rolling onto her back and cursing under her breath, her machete clattered onto the wooden landing.

It was a peaceful couple of months living on the boat but Jess was smart enough to make sure that she never became complacent or lured into a false sense of security. The world was still full of threats, people that ate people if they were alive or dead. The living reduced to the depths of depravity, stealing, murdering, raping, looting. She’d seen near enough all of it in less than a year of being on the road alone. Death was always part of life, but not in the way Jess had now been witness to and sometimes when it came to a matter of them and her, she’d been forced to commit acts that she didn’t even know she was capable of. After the initial horrendous guilt, she’d been forced to carry on and survive, just like every other person that remained walking the earth with a brain that hadn’t been reanimated.

Being a nomad after leaving the boat was the toughest thing she’d experienced yet. The cold was biting, destructive and relentless and her movement was restricted when defending herself due to her layers of clothing that were needed to shield her against the bitter winds. She hid in frozen ditches for convoys to pass with trucks full of screaming people, their leaders decorated in war paint as If it gave them any more rights than anyone else. She fought off wildlife, ran from Bears and Coyotes and found Deer harder to hunt than they had ever been before. But still, she persevered and soldiered on with a strength and determination that was now cemented in her being. By that point, she knew she was no quitter.

                                     =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

A fairground wouldn’t have been her first choice of homestead but the discovery, one crisp morning after sleeping in a tree, of a small building in the corner between the Ferris wheel and Haunted House piqued her interest enough to draw her inside. The structure was solid enough, protected from the wind by the carcasses of rides around it. A broken sign above the door read ‘Casey’s Diner.’ Jess thought it was the smallest diner she’d ever seen, but once she’d kicked the door in and checked the inside for any dangers, she found it to be quaint and full of potential. She ran her fingertips along the tables and chairs as she walked through the seating area, even the black and red tiled walls were an aesthetic she could live with. The tables could all be removed in favor of more useful furniture that she could find almost anywhere. There was a long counter in the middle that opened up into an open-plan kitchen, some of which could still be used if she could only find a generator big enough to power it. The windows were thick, the outside fitted with bars to deter those wanting to take up residence or rob the place out of season.

Handy. She thought.

Stepping back outside into the cold, she surveyed the area. The wind whistled through the rusting metal of the rides, signs flapped in the breeze and the fence enclosing the small fairground itself needed repairs in certain places, the most important being the main gate, which Jess had managed to unlock using a small pair of bolt cutters from her backpack. She could work with it, the effort it would need not deterring her in the slightest. She needed shelter before it started to snow and the disused diner would have to do.

It wasn’t easy to find the materials she needed to make the necessary repairs to the fence and fortify the building. She walked for miles to and from the next town, having to use her conserved energy to hack Walkers to death and shoot them with arrows until she was left with a mere two hours of daylight to get a huge, heavy bag of supplies back to the fairground. She may have found what she needed but her fingers were raw from making snare traps in the area around the fences to ensnare small animals for food. Her joints ached from hauling the old furniture out and hacking it all to pieces. Finding a truck with gas left in it parked on the dirt track of a farm was just the stroke of luck she needed. A generator awaited her in the barn, the only issue was how to remove the solar panels that fueled it from the roof.

                                     =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= 

Jess’s senses were more than heightened from being on her own for so long and having to be mindful of any threats so as not to become Walker food. Sounds such as snapping twigs and scuffing on the ground alerted her immediately and within seconds, she was alert, bow readied and eyes carefully scanning her surroundings. It was the sound of breathing on this occasion while she stood in the barn trying to figure out how to get the huge generator out and onto the truck, along with the panels, she had no idea where to start. She pulled the string of her bow tight and straightened her back.

“I know you’re there.” She called out. “Make yourself known or I’ll be forced to find you and kill you.”

The barn was piled high with hay bales, a tractor stood to one side and wooden posts obscured her view of the entrance she’d wandered through, dead set on fetching her generator. There was no way she was about to let anyone else take it. Finders keepers, that’s how she saw it. She’d never robbed anyone or felt the need to when supplies were around, they just took a little patience to find.

She spotted boots on the other side of the tractor, moving past it’s massive wheels and wading through hay dropped from the bales on either side. She aimed as a man stepped into view. His hands were up in surrender, he wore a clean, blue and white flannel shirt with a black wax jacket, his hair was cut and tidy, his skin bore no signs of dirt or injury. He held no visible weapons and on his back he carried something else spotless, a tan backpack.

Jess never went anywhere without her mask and hood, they provided her with extra warmth as well an anonymity to anyone she may meet on her travels. She was now a solitary roamer with no desire to connect with anyone or bear the burden of having to take care of someone else. She peered at the man over the top of her mask, which obscured her nose and mouth, showing only her eyes. She quickly swept one leg back, moving into a defensive stance and lined her aim up with the center of his head.

“Who are you?” she demanded firmly.

“My name is Aaron. I come from a community nearby.” He explained. His tone was calm but Jess could sense the underlying anxiety that came with confronting strangers in the new world. Everyone possessed it, it was just more obvious in some than others.

“Backup.” She spat, jutting her bow at him. He jumped in surprise and held his hands up higher. “This is my generator. I found it first.”

Aaron’s eyebrows raised at her intent to take the generator. It was obvious to him that it was all she cared about, aside from not being killed.

“Fair enough. I don’t need one anyway. I just came to talk to you.” He told her.

She glared at him, trying to read him, to figure out what intentions he could possibly have being so squeaky clean and turning up out of the blue for a conversation. It didn’t add up and she didn’t trust him from the moment she heard his breathing from the other side of the barn. She didn’t want to have to kill another living human and so hoped that distraction techniques and words would provide her with enough time to figure out an alternative.

“You expect me to believe that you cornered me in a barn for a conversation?” She asked

“Uh…I know how strange that must seem.” He smiled.

“Hm.” She grunted. It did seem strange, just like everything else about him. His eyes may have looked kind enough, but she had seen all this before. The wolf in sheep’s clothing. She kept a firm grip on her bow. “So talk.” She instructed. “Or I’ll shoot you in the face.”

A kill count wasn’t something Jess ever wanted to have. But it was inevitable for her to have survived so long into what was now a rotting world full of death. She wasn’t yet in double figures, or so she thought. Who knows how many of the people she’d shot in the legs had failed to escape the clutches of an oncoming herd or a hungry, lone Walker in a small space and succumbed to the turn? She couldn’t dwell on it or more of her soul would fall away. She didn’t cry about it anymore. In fact, she hadn’t cried in months, unable to remember the last time. Maybe she was just numb and that wasn’t good. But it didn’t mean she wasn’t prepared to execute another person in order to protect herself.

 “I’ve been watching you. You’re very resourceful and handy with that bow.” Aaron explained with his hands still held aloft. “We could use someone like you. We have a lot to offer. Houses, electricity, hot, running water, medical care…walls and-”

“-Cannibals.” She interrupted loudly. Aaron blinked at her in surprise. “You must be cannibals if you have all that.”

His hands began to lower again as he used them to enhance his argument. He stepped closer but she nudged her head up in warning.

Stay there or I will shoot you between the eyes.

“No.” He protested. “I can assure you. We have food, but we’re not cannibals. Please, lower your weapon. I’m not a threat to you.”

“Yeah? Well, I’m a threat to you.” She warned boldly. “Hold your hands out in front of you so I can see ‘em clearer.”

Doing as he was asked, she couldn’t ignore the puzzled look on his face as she inched closer and observed his empty hands as he held them out, palms down and trembling slightly. He flinched when she suddenly stooped down and collected a small rock from the ground and threw it to him.

“Catch”

He caught the rock effortlessly, still baffled by her behavior and concerned that she may be a little more unhinged than he’d anticipated when he’d observed her fixing fences and hauling tables and chairs around while singing quietly to herself at the fairground. He was impressed by her resourcefulness and skills after finding various traps around the fences that could prove almost lethal to anyone that happened to stumble into them.

“What are-”

“-Kuru. Creutzfeldt-Jakob Disease. Prion Disease. Whatever you want to call it. Cannibals have tremors and difficulty grasping things. Slower reactions and poor coordination. Among other symptoms. Its incubation period is usually ten years but with food scarce and dumb folk all over the place, people eating people on the daily is common enough to speed up the process”

“That’s…Interesting.” Aaron offered, mildly concerned by her detailed knowledge.  

“Not as interesting as the tremor in your hands.” She shot back, seeing him tilt his head back slightly, a look of worry creeping across his features.

“Forgive me, but I am on the business end of an arrow right now. If I were you, I’d be worried if my hands weren’t trembling.”

Jess huffed with amusement. She couldn’t deny that he had a point and it was delivered a thin lacing of sass.

You’re a funny fucker, aren’t you?

“You’re a smartass too.” She declared.

Aaron finally smiled and laughed. Jess lowered her bow subtly but not enough for him to notice. She wasn’t naïve enough to let him win her trust that easily and so keeping something sharp and pointed aimed his way seemed like a wise course of action, no matter how charming and polite he appeared.

“I was just going to say that about you. Just, in my head. Not out loud. I kind of still like being alive.” He grinned “So, did I pass the test?”

She went back over their conversation in her head. A community nearby, food, water, walls, medical supplies. Even if it was true, it was something she no longer wanted. She was better alone. Safer, cunning, clever. If only she could get that damn generator into the back of the truck. She raised an eyebrow at Aaron.

“So far.”

                                     =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

 Jess sat up in bed and rubbed her eyes, it was cold in the room but nowhere near as cold as the boat with nothing to break up the howling wind. She swung her legs from the wooden framed bed, taken from the same farm where she ran into the man called Aaron with the kind eyes and clean clothes. In her newly re-arranged kitchen, she prepared a breakfast of tinned sausages and beans, cooked in a pot on a stove that was powered by the generator Aaron had helped her get back to her new home.

She’d bargained with him; He helped her get her generator and she agreed to scope out the community of Alexandria from outside it’s walls, observing the operations, security and supply run teams from high up in a tree that gave her the perfect vantage point. It all seemed innocent enough, but Jess was still untrusting and guarded and eventually agreed to meet the leader of Alexandria on the promise that it was conducted away from the town and she was allowed to be fully armed.

It wasn’t easy to get through to Jess, but Deanna, the woman who made all the decisions for the community, was very convincing and it became apparent to Jess upon the arrival of a stray Walker where their meeting took place in the woods, that Deanna had not been outside of her community since before the world went wrong. Everything that was explained to her, she was able to corroborate and after weeks of surveillance, she took her first steps inside to meet the wary faces of the townsfolk.

Jess kept to herself and didn’t utter a word to anyone unless she had no other choice. Aaron stuck by her side at first, assuring people that she wasn’t a danger to them and when she began bringing back Deer and small game after the seasons switched again, people started to accept her as the mysterious bringer of sustenance and protector of the areas around the circumference of the walls. In return, Jess had access to medical supplies and a shower with hot, running water at Aaron’s house that he shared with his partner, Eric. She never once, let anyone see her face, going about her business in full protective clothing. 

Jess refused to move from the fairground. It was her home and the place that she felt most at ease. She didn’t have fences as large as Alexandria, but hers were sufficient and she knew every inch of them. Living away from everybody else meant she made no connections. No friends, just one or two acquaintances. She wanted to live a life without ties that could lead to more emotional trauma or put her at risk of getting killed. She had a deal with Alexandria, an understanding. On top of that, she also got her generator and solar panels which Aaron had helped to install along with the help of a man Jess didn’t know and didn’t need to know. All she cared about was him being able to make her stove work before she could send him back inside the walls.

Hunting was both a necessity and an enjoyable activity once the weather warmed and the mornings and evenings became lighter. If the Walker numbers were kept low within a mile radius, which was Jess’s job, animals ventured closer to Alexandria to forage and when they did, Jess nabbed them. Sometimes, she’d be out overnight, so engrossed in tracking and taking down something larger than a rabbit that she just couldn’t let it go. That was another good thing about being on the sidelines of a community, the gas for a vehicle. Journeying out further to relatively untouched patches of woodland turned up some great results, especially when she borrowed a hunting rifle from the armory.

Slinking through the trees early one morning with her rifle readied and her eyes cast down across the ground, she followed the tracks of what she thought could be a large deer. Its imprints were deep, suggesting it was somewhat hefty and the foliage it nibbled along the way provided her with the perfect path. She breathed quietly through her nose, kept her footsteps light and her hood up.

This is going to be a good one. She thought, excited at the prospect of her share.

Then, male voices caught her attention and she dived behind the nearest bush; her body locked into such a stillness that she thought her heart might stop beating.

“A bitch got you all messed up. Walking around here like a dead man. She must have been a good’un. Was it one of the little ones? They don’t last too long out here.” A man commented.

There was a scuffle but Jess couldn’t see from her current position. While the noises of scraping boots on the muddy floor went on, she twisted her body just enough to make out the scene through the leaves of her hiding place. She needed to know what she was dealing with if she was discovered.

Clamping a hand over her mouth was all she could do to stop herself from gasping loudly with shock. There, beyond the leaves and with a long-haired stranger in a brutal headlock, was Daryl Dixon. His face was twisted into a rage, sweat slick on his forehead as he used all his might to choke the man in his grip. She almost fell backwards and gave her location away when the man whirled out of Daryl’s arm and swung a punch which Daryl quickly avoided. As he ducked, Jess heard the unmistakable shing of a knife being unsheathed and Daryl lunged with the cold metal in his hand.

Her mind was blank. She had no idea what to do. If she should intervene or stay put. It was Daryl. He’d hurt her and she’d deliberately put what she’d thought were hundreds of miles between them, only for him to show up right in front of her in the woods. Still, she didn’t want to see him get killed.

As he neared the man with his knife raised, someone else arrived. An older, grey man with a much more relaxed attitude stepped in and broke up the fight which, as she learned from the shadows, was over who the dead rabbit on the ground belonged to.

He was different, angrier and war-worn but she didn’t get the same vibes from him that she got from the others, and there were more of them. A whole group of them travelling through the woods, she’d discovered. It wasn’t until she retreated further into the trees and decided to follow them that she could tell their intentions were worlds apart from Daryl’s.

The railway tracks were incredibly difficult to follow along without being seen, but she stayed in the tree line, her dark, camouflage and protective clothing aiding her in her disguise. From there, she could hear what was being said. She didn’t possess one ounce of trust in the men he was with and maybe it was because she was an outside observer, but she was shocked that Daryl didn’t seem to know that they were merely using him. Now, there was no way she was leaving. She followed on until they stopped outside an empty auto repairs place on a crossroads. For a moment, Daryl was left alone while the others checked the building.

It was tempting. Oh, so tempting to signal him from the trees and alert him to her presence. He struck a lonely figure as he stood in the road by himself. He looked older, his hair was longer and he still wore his angel wings on his back, only now they were fading and ripped. She was completely torn, half of her wanted to go to him but she was stopped by the memory of what he’d said to his brother. That she meant nothing to him. So, why would he even care if she was there or not? She stayed quiet and hidden, creeping up to a window when darkness fell and they took shelter inside. Carefully, by peeking through a corner of the window, she was able to look inside without being detected.

From the glass, she sighed and watched him sleep on a black piece of plastic while the others took up residence in cars. For the first time since she discovered him, she had the time to acknowledge how much she missed him. She was still hurt, heartbroken in fact by what she’d heard. But it was Daryl. Once her good friend and if she was totally honest, the person she’d thought about every day since she left the group. He still inspired her and try as she might, she couldn't shake the notion that she still found him to be incredibly attractive.

I might mean nothing to you. But, I’m here. I’m not leaving you with these jackasses.

She slept against the side of the auto repairs building, under the window and shrouded in leaves. Waking only when she heard an argument going on inside. On the verge of stepping in to prevent Daryl from being hurt by the mindless, violent, idiots he’d ended up with, she gripped her machete in her hand and started to think about how she was going to charge in and take on seven men when the aggression was suddenly diverted from Daryl to one of the other men. Jess sank back and breathed a deep huff of relief. She didn’t have to see him get hurt.

When the body of the man Daryl had fought with in the woods was dumped inches from her as they departed, she held her breath until she was sure none of them could hear her and set about following them further. She didn’t know why, but going back was not an option. She couldn’t leave him. Not with this group. Not now. There were too many risks.

They re-joined the railway tracks and Jess was able to silently move along at the back of the group where Joe, the grey-haired man who she gathered was the leader, talked to Daryl and offered him a drink from a hip flask. She saw him hesitate as she carefully climbed over logs and slithered through the trees at a pace that was tough to keep up without being too noisy. He shrugged a shoulder up and accepted.

“I ain’t been lit at dawn since before everything fell apart” He expressed.

Jess couldn’t help it. The way he spoke and his conversational tone coupled with a nonchalant shrug was so typical of him and it stung at her emotions. But at his honest comment, her face broke into a wide smile that she struggled to control. So wrapped up in how much she missed him, she failed to navigate around a large tree trunk and smacked into it, causing a rustle that Daryl heard over everyone else. He paused and Jess was sure he was looking right at her from the tracks as she hugged the tree and wished that she hadn’t just acted with the dexterity of a toddler running through the woods. Joe carried on while Daryl squinted into the dark trees and adjusted his crossbow. Her lungs began to burn, she didn’t want to breathe for fear of being noticed, her knees felt like they might cave in.

You really are a tracker.

After what seemed like hours, Daryl finally moved on, joining the rest of the men at a metal sign on the side of the tracks. They gathered around, talking in hushed tones that she couldn’t quite make out from her position. Then, Daryl stepped back, revealing the word at the top of the sign which made her blood run cold and her eyes well with tears. She knew exactly where they were headed and she had to do something to stop them.

TERMINUS.

NEXT CHAPTER

[asukaskerian]

monthly word count - august

TOTAL: 4 196 ... uuuuuuuuuuuuuughghgh.

POSTED -Grimmichi: Haunting Me Haunting You - chapter 3 (3 431 words) (soulmates AU)

*WORK IN PROGRESS -Grimm/Ichi/Orihime cuddle drugs fic: Oxytocin (38 words) (sobs) -Bleach Daemon AU: the xcution arc (344 words) -Bloodsport chapter 3 (393 words) (why so stuck aaaaaa)

Also posted: Oxytocin chapter 1.

i cannot fucken CONCENTRATE this month. work has been dead because everyone else is on vacation and yet i spend all my days with a document open and not adding a single line to it. then i come back home and will you look at that, by the time i have had my decompression alone time and done everything i needed to do i don't even have time to get online and talk with people, never mind enough time to get into a writing headspace. so much augh.

i'll find a rhythm eventually but atm it is very flop.

...i MIGHT manage brainy things better if i didn't spend so much of my post-bedtime time telling myself it's okay if i only sleep six or less hours because i'm reading shit tho. >_>;;;; no, asuka, post-bedtime night time is not actually free no-consequences time.

----

"Inoue Orihime-and-Natsume, Sado Yasutora-and-Amparo," Tsukishima says quietly beside him. Kururi is quiet on Tsukishima's shoulder, a gray bird with light bands across her breast that's almost the length of his forearm. A lot of that is the tail, fanned out to brace as she peers down over the edge of the roof. "Fullbringers."

Kūgo's Yozora gives a quiet snort, scanning the group crowding over the Kurosakis all over again; her white, striped tail lashes. They can tell. The taint of hollow is too faint to really catch on the girl, but powers have to come from somewhere and hers definitely doesn't taste shinigami or Quincy.

Sado's stink more strongly.

"They haven't fucking left him alone all day," she mutters. "Last I knew this town was a hollow paradise."

Something definitely happened here. He can feel a lot of powerful people if he stretches. Even the dark taint of hollow -- but so weak. It should be a buffet of angry ghosts; but they've been in Naruki City a month, and nothing.

--

Kurosaki's eyelashes brushed against the tip of Grimmjow's nose. Then he leaned in, slow and cautious, to brush their lips together in a kiss so goddamned gentle it was a relief when he felt the testing nibble afterwards, like Kurosaki wasn't too sure anymore how it was supposed to go.

"No eatin'," Grimmjow mumbled against his mouth, nipping back but barely so -- too much of an escalation, he thought, and then couldn't decide if that was an excuse or not. Kurosaki laughed silently against his mouth, and then licked his way in.

Hot and wet, slow like molasses. Kurosaki's too-long tongue taking its sweet time exploring his fangs, the soft inside of his cheeks, the ridges of his palate. Following an old scar where he'd bitten through his cheek the first time he went into resurreccion. And still crooning, tuneless and pleased, a low vibration that ran right through his chest and his mouth and seemed to slip into his brain.

He kissed back -- let Kurosaki coax him into kissing back, unresisting and gone loose under him, under those kneading hands. Kurosaki wasn't... wasn't gonna hurt him. Didn't want to. Didn't need to. Only wanted to fuck him nice and slow, probably make him feel good.

It'd be so easy to let him.

Let him own him.

[metalotaku-da]

MerMay Shance

Prompts stolen from @justshance. all pieces are up for grabs if anyone wants to take them further or rework them. @shancemermay

dark shiro again. goes with 21 and 26

warnings are : dark shiro, kidnapping, sexual undertones, nudity. 

16. true colors

The tales of the powers mer held were not rare. But they were old. Noted in old books, reports, and the occasional letter. Tears of pearls, scales that could subdue the pain from the most gruesome of wounds if ground and consumed. Healing magic, power to move the very waves, extended longevity and health to anyone who could possess one alive. A great strength if you sulled one. Other than ancient anecdotes, no such evidence of any has been documented in nearly 400 years. The closest, is the dark kingdom of the dragons. Where their nearly 1000 year old ruler was claimed to have gain much of his own power and extended life even for a dragon. But for their own records human or nature born, a mer hasn't been seen on land for nearly the same amount of time. Sightings at sea or the coast are a plenty. They are not hiding their extinse. But to take one alive is near impossible, the few passing within days of capture. Dead their scales the only thing left of value. And not worth the risk to hunt them actively.

And yet here cowering in the corner of the royal carriage of atlas, was a mer who had taken the risk that none of it's race had for hundreds of years, to sprout legs and traverse the land.

Traverse being used liberally. As Keith had witnessed at their last stop. The mer faking sleep to be left in the carriage. Keith had exited with his brother wanting fresh air and to stretch his own legs after being out for so many with his aliments before the meeting had healed him. returned to the commotion of the scale only clad mer trying to run away. And that is also a liberal use of the word. He barely moved better than a newborn colt or fawn. His long tanned legs gangly and shaking under him. He made it barely 3 steps from the carriage before a soldier grabbed him up and subdued him. Keith had gotten to witness the tears of a mer transform into pearls. Just as shiro had described them. All of them a pearlescents of white, blues and browns. Some round some tear dropped shape as was a popular jewel of nobles. Rare as they were. Keith couldn't stop himself from reaching out to touch one as it tracked down the boys face. A sob escaping him. Trembling like a leaf in a storm in the soldiers arms. His eyes so different from the ones Keith remembered from when he was Ill. Fevered till he thought it was a hallucination, till he awoke to see the mer asleep, head pillowed on the king's lap.

Shiro had ordered the mer released. Catching him, himself as fell once released. The king had wasted no time shushing his pearl as he had been calling the boy since Keith had awoken. Carrying him back into the carriage to be drenched once more in collected sea water for the last leg of the journey home.

A creature, part nature born, part more. With strength and powers long coveted on land, spoken of as an unparalleled danger in the water. Reduced to a shivering damp ball in the furthest corner of the carriage from him and his brother. Covered only in one of his own meager shirt carefully draped over his shoulders. Ducking away from the now opened door where thace addressed the king of the servants progress before they had arrived at the castle.

Keith waited for shiro to exit before following himself. "Do you want me to collect your mer?" Keith asked. Shiro had not allowed anyone, even servants to touch the mer without his eyes on him. A tainted mer wouldn't hold as much value to his king.

"No. You should build up your strength still. You were on the brink of death Keith." Shiro said softly.

"But I feel perfectly fine now shiro. Like I've spent these past weeks resting. My wounds have scarred over already even. No openings to risk straining." Keith countered.

"I know." Shiro said, turning back to the open door on the carriage to cast a soft smile at the mer still cowering within. He extended his hand into the carriage towards the mer. "Thanks to you my precious pearl. Would you like to come out under your own power? Stretch your legs a bit? See your new home?"

"I want to go home. I want hunk." The mer said lips quivering over delicately sharp teeth.

"Lance, this will be your new home. I'm sure this is very frightening now. But I'm not going to hurt you. Nor will anyone else. Not after you did so well to care for my little brother. It's safe to come out." The king addressed the mer.

"You were going to kill hunk. his family, children." The mer sobbed tucking in tighter.

"That was only a threat for cooperation." Shiro responded. Only sparing a glance to Keith at his flinch at the mers words. Even hearing it from shiro himself had jarred the prince. Such tactics to get what the crown wanted more associated with their father than shiro. But their father would not have waisted such tactics for Keith's sake. "It is not a worry you should have. I kept my word they were left all well, and even a large monetary gift for their troubles. I kept my word to you. I… I was not of sound mind when I sought out the Garrett's. I am now. I won't harm you."

The mer shook his head. "Then why did you take me?"

"To keep you safe my little pearl. The Garrett's couldn't protect you after you had been found. Your kind has so much power for others to take. They'd have been killed and you taken by far more evil men to be used if I hadn't whisked you away." Shiro spoke to the mer like a frightened child. "It's for the safety of all of you. Come on out now and we will get you settled. Don't you want to get into some nice ocean water? Not just splash from an old bucket?" The king coaxed again bringing both hands towards the mer, like a mother awaiting a hug. "It will be alright. You're safe. Just come on out now, you can't stay in there forever."

The mer apparently read into that subtle threat. Come out on your own. Or you will be collected. He slid himself carefully along the floor sticking his legs out first to hang down on the steps gripping the opening to pull himself forward. His feet sitting just on the stairs. Keith's eyes trailing just inches down to the area where the mers sex would be. A dense smattering of glittering blue scales there thinning out across his tan skin, to cluster again at his knees, elbows, heels of his feet and hands. The mer's shaking shoulders reflecting light to dance over the carriage and ground. Keith only catching himself when the mer pulled his legs up in an attempt to cover himself. "Absolutely, no one will hurt you my little pearl." Keith's eyes shot to his brothers own darkened stare. The direction received. Keith giving a nod in understanding before casting his own eyes away. Till the delicate webbed toes came into view as he stared at his own feet. Bringing his eyes back up. The mer hunched in on himself and shaking on unsteady legs a step away. Keith reached behind him to grab the shirt that had fallen away. Redrapping the wet fabric over the mers shoulders. The flinch sending him off balance to tumble forward into the king's chest.

"Easy there. Keith's just giving you a bit of modesty for the trek into the palace." The king said softly to the mer who was looking up at him from the king's chest. The tears hadn't stopped their flow just yet, but they were slowing.

Keith cast his eyes down quickly, and his brother was correct with his amount. The shirt stopping just below the mers bottom. "If you put your arms in the sleeves it will cover more." Keith spoke directly to the mer for the first time. Looking to shiro to see if he overstepped. Getting a small smile of approval Keith continued once Lance was looking at him. Shiro moved the mer upright again and steadied him as keith held out the sleeves one at a time. Shiro guiding his arms into them before pulling the front closed. Keith frowned as the kept his arms out. “Put your arms down. It will hang lower.”

“They pull.” the mer said still holding his arms away from his body. “I don’t like clothes.” He flapped his arms a bit letting out another sob. Eyes squeezed shut.

“It’s just for a little while. Till we get you in some water. It’s alright.” shiro consoled him. Stroking a hand through the mers hair.

“You don’t like the staring you need to be covered.” keith stated bluntly to the mer. He was getting a bit frustrated. It was a simple shirt. Nothing to fuss over.

“Mers don’t stare. Neither did the garrets.” The mer said coldly staring at his own feet still keeping his arms away from his body but not as wide.

“Curiosity brings the eyes of many.” Shiro cooed at the mer tilting his head up.

“Modesty will shield you from leering.” keith finished. “So will prompt movement out of site.” Keith noticed a gathering of court peeking out to see what was keeping the kings attention. Turning shiro’s attention to it. Ulaz waiting at the door for them.

“Yes. let’s head inside now.” Shiro said to the mer. Taking his arm and leading him like a lady in court. However after the first step even shiro and the guard had to stop. Mer missing timing and pitching forward dragged to far by shiro’s hold on his arm. The leg he tried to catch himself buckling. Keith reached forward to grab his other arm before he fell lifting him up.

“Too fast.” the mer cried. “I can’t…”

“Shhhh,” shiro whispered to him. “It’s alright. Take a deep breathe. Keith, we’ll support his weight.” shiro spoke to both of them. “You just need to make big steps. Big as you can. This will go quickly.”

Keith nodded and followed his king’s lead easily. Only every other step of theirs was met by the mers as they entered the castle. The mer had managed to stop crying, to focused on walking to keep his toes from dragging.

“My lord we welcome your return, and the great joy it brings me to see prince keith up on his feet once more. The court will be ecstatic to hear of your success.” ulaz said with a deep bow. “The preparations you asked for have been completed as well your majesty.” he then stood up right and followed along beside the king in the procession of the guard following them. Skimming right past those who had gathered to see the kings return. Keith doesn’t doubt shiro left the nobles astir in his whirlwind to save him. Not to mention the buzz caused by the assassin keith had slayed and been injured fighting to protect his brother that lead to their hunt for a healer. Many of there eyes going straight past the royals to barely clad boy between them.

“Thank you ulaz. Send word of a late dinner gathering and i will make an appearance to assuage any worry the people have. And to answer i’m sure a many curious inquiries.” Shiro cast his smile down on the mer who was now showing signs of heavy exherstian. Panting and red faced, his body trembled in their arms. Their pace slower as they went up the main stairs. “Just a little further. You’re doing so well, lance.” Shiro whispered to the mer.

“Of course your majesty. I assume you will be indisposed till then to settle from your travels and get your guest situated?” ulaz cast a quick look to the mer and keith.

“Yes, I wish not to be interrupted till such time.” he answered. Ulaz bowed in acknowledgement then left to handle carrying out his commands. They made it just out of sight of any nobles in the entryway before the mer collapsed. Legs completely giving out to hang limply from the royals’ arms. A cry of pain leaving him. Shiro wasted no time scooping him up completely in his arms. Keith releasing his hold on him. “You did so well, my little pearl. Shhhh. Just relax. I got you.” keith watched as the healers legs twitched and spasmed like a hooked fish in his brothers arms. The mer burying his face into shiro’s shirt crying, knuckles white and buried in his vest.

“What… what’s wrong with him?” keith dared to ask. Keeping his voice low.

“I believe his legs are weak from disuse. The muscles haven’t been worked enough to support him. It’s the same for long bed ridden soldiers when they first get up to use their legs again.” kolivan answered. “The muscles are cramping from over working.”

“That’s alright. You won’t have to walk like that again. Just relax. You’re alright.” Shiro consoled his precious prize.

“Hurts.” The word muffled in the king's chest.

“I can massage the muscles while we walk.” keith said looking to his brother. “To help ease the pain.” he shifted to look at the mer before looking to his brother again. “A small gesture, of gratitude.” keith looked away, their father would have been disgusted by such a notion, or platitude coming from the prince. But the boy had saved his life. And it was a small way to show his thanks.

Shiro nodded at him. “Try a small bit now. See how it’s taken.” shiro spoke to him. Keith took one of the mers legs by the calf, a more intentioned jolt at the touch. He gave the mer time to get used to his touch. The scales rough under his hands. The edges catching on his calluses when he went against their direction. He switched his method to avoid doing so when the mer squirmed at the feeling.

“Hurts. Stop please. I just want to go home.” the mer cried trying to pull his legs away. “Let me go please.” the mer pushed at the king trying to get away from him. Shiro kept a solid hold on him while keith took his hands off him.

“It’ll help if you let me.” keith snapped.

“Worry about that later.” shiro started down the hall again. “He’s getting dry.” he looked at the mer to catch his eye. “We’re going to get you into some water. You’ll like that.”

“No. just let me go.” the mer argued back pushing both palms to the king’s chest.

“I don’t plan to ever let you go my little pearl.” shiro said holding tight to the mer. He smirked at keith when he grabbed the mer’s hands to settle the boy. The group reaching the doors to the king’s rooms. Antok opened the door for them allowing them to pass inside easily. Shiro head directly to his private bath. The large window inside giving a beautiful view of the mountains in the distance. Before them open fields and a few scattered buildings. “Here. look at this? I have a nice cool pool for you to rest in.” shiro said drawing the mer’s attention to his large sunken walk in bath. The servants had done well filling it. He could smell the salt just like the ocean. It had seats around the edge and opened up deeper at the legs. Easily allowing shiro to stand and be submerged to his shoulders. The mer looked around the room taking in his soon to be lavish cage. Lance pouted his lip at the sight. He did very much want to get wet and shift into his tail. But it wasn’t big enough for him to really get away from the humans. He’d just fit in the deepest part of the black stone pool. He'd be trapped till he shifted his legs back.

Shiro slowly lowered both of them down to the edge of the tub. Carefully watching the wide eyes of his mer. "This is just temporary." The mer's eyes snapped to his bright and hopeful. "Till I have something built. Bigger and more worthy of your beauty." Lance's eyes glossed up at the words. Tears starting to well up again. "Let's start by removing your shirt. You want it off right?" He asked voice soft. Lance's tears dropped to the granite floor bouncing away as they turned to pearls with his nod. He slid his legs into the tub as shiro helped him out of the shirt leaving him bare once more. Shiro placed his hands his mer's shoulders. They had a good span abroad but the king's palm curled from his shoulder blades to allow his fingers to crest to his collar bones. "That's it. Your doing so well my pearl. I can't wait to see you at your full beauty."

"Wha… what… are you going to do to me?" Lance whispered softly hunched in on himself. Only willing to look at the humans surrounding him through their reflections on the water. The horrors his mother always warned him would be inflicted on him should he flounder to the surface and be caught, playing on loop in his mind. Fears that had been plaguing him from the moment he had seen them.

The king brought his head to behind the mer's ear frills to answer back in a gentle voice. "I'm going to take care of you my treasure. I promise you will want for nothing once you've relaxed into your new home." He nuzzled the side of the boy's hair ignoring the flinch. "You saved my brothers life. I would never let harm come to you." He placed a gentle kiss to Lance's hair. "But I think it would please both of us if you would grace my eyes with your true beauty."

"You don't want me to turn so you can skin me right?" Lance asked squeezing his own arms in his hands.

Shiro gave the mer a light squeeze before pulling back to give him space. "I would never do that. You have my word as king, Lance. No harm will come to you."  

Lance looked over his shoulder at the king before he pushed himself into the water. Wasting no time to change. His sides split into his gills fanning out to move the water. His legs fused together and slightly elongated. His fins sprouting out into the paper thin pearleacant membrane. The ends fine and feathered slightly. Matching at his hips and fluke. His scales spread to cover nearly all of the skin from his human form. Larger towards his tail smaller and more delicate towards his limbs and face. His coloring book blew away the king. Many shades of blue, mostly royal blue, some white and his tan skin tone gradient along his front back. The shine took his breath away as he stood to get a full look at his mer. The light from the windows reflecting off him like a crystal charm. Dancing blues, purple's, and greens across the room and water. A single kick of his tail had him pressed against the floor of the tub. Shiro watched as his mer curled up on his side pressed to the floor. He didn't even look back up at them. But shiro was smiling bright next to his just as enamored brother. His mer's true body and color was  more enchanting than he had imagined. Far from the lifeless corpses at market. Or the flat mat pictures in books.

[rkyohan-blog]

* fly high [ solo ]

-- 🟊 busking!  [ butterflies - queen naija ] 

it’s been a long time since yohan has performed anything live. it’s been years, honestly -- and even when he did have an audience, it was when he was rapping. his singing hasn’t taken the spotlight since he was in high school, but that was mostly by choice. when singing, especially acoustically, it’s a lot harder to feign confidence when you’re not meandering around a stage with a hood pulled over your eyes, spitting some kind of self-aggrandizing bullshit too close to the microphone while cycling through 3 or 4 different hand gestures. 

yohan thinks of rapping now as finding ways to put forth the illusion of being bigger, like someone’s projecting a giant hologram of himself on a screen in front of him. he’s watched rappers manage to have presence and power without seeming to fake anything, though -- he’s always been in awe of the people who can be themselves onstage and still command attention. there were times when he enjoyed being in the audience of underground rap shows more than actually performing, for this reason. 

but he’s not in a dingy club. there’s no stage, no microphone. he’s not surrounded by the party-goers and soundcloud rappers like he used to be, either. here, tonight, it’s just him, a fold-able stool, a guitar. 

that’s not to say that he’s alone here, though. there are strangers everywhere, blurry faces strolling past, walking fast if they’re headed somewhere or slow if they’re some of the people wandering through hongdae just to see the other buskers. just down the street, there’s a circle of people cheering on a dance group. yohan can’t hear it super well, but he thinks he hears the notes of exo’s love shot rising up from within the crowd.

as he presses his lips together and sets down his stool, he tries to hype himself up. just get through one song and you’ll feel better, but even his internal monologue sounds hollow. he already thinks he can feel a few sets of eyes on him, curious looks as he scootches his bum back onto the seat and lifts his guitar. they’re expecting something from him. but what? an entertaining performance? a beautiful voice? something memorable, something unique? 

he wants to warn them. sorry in advance, y’all. 

he swallows again, thickly this time, and his fingers take up the positions of the song that yohan has been idly practising out of boredom for the past few months.

I don't wanna fall so fast But I'm open They always say that good things never last And I know 'cause I've been broken

it’s an easy english song -- probably a safe choice for now. though there’s a bit of a drop within the first minute of the song, it remains gentle. the lyrics are soft, with a fairly simple, straight-forward meaning to them -- basically, it’s not really anything like the music yohan usually listens to. he came across it by chance when he accidentally selected it on spotify instead of travis scott’s butterfly effect and laziness led him to listen to the whole song instead of changing it. he was surprised at how much it made him... feel. 

I'm tryin' to protect my heart But you're making it so hard And I guess it's safe to say You take my pain away

he sings it in a lower octave than the original’s singer, queen naija, did. there was some adjusting to do to make the key fit his range, but the natural husk to his voice suits the raspiness of the original. he continues the simple finger-strumming from the intro of the song, letting his eyes close and only opening them once in a while to stare at nothing in the distance. he tries to loosen his arms a little, to let the song take him away, and as he moves into the pre-chorus and prepares to play the full chord progression that he’s arranged for this part of the song, he finds that it’s working.

And I just wanna hold you all night long Whenever I'm around you, nothing's wrong I'm hoping that you'll always be around You got me on a high, I don't wanna come down

his voice weaves through the notes sweetly, incorporating just a tiny bit of the melisma and vibrato techniques that he’s tried to pick up over the years. he holds back just a little, stopping himself from trying to go too overboard out of fear of making himself sound unstable, or going offkey. his voice, previously a little breathly, grows louder for the chorus.

And I love it, I love it (these butterflies) Yeah I love it, I love it (I'm on a high) Yeah, I love it, I love it And I just wanna love on you (ooh)

obviously, he can’t overlap with his own voice live. he’s adjusted this part to suit his performance, skipping the second i love it, i love it line in favour of leaving a few strums of the chords there before coming back with i’m on a high and continuing on. instead of going back to the plucking, he switches to softly playing chords throughout the next verse, surprising himself with how emotional his voice manages to sound.

Ever since you crossed my path Everything is different You always know just how to make me laugh You got me all up in my feelings And as much as I love the feeling I hate it, it gets me frustrated Wanna say just how I feel But don't know how you would take it Why do you do what you do to me? Got me doing things that I don't do usually

whenever he sings this song, he can’t help but feel a little bit of an ache in his chest. it’s been a long-ass time since yohan has experienced butterflies, since he’s gotten to fall in love. he doesn’t want to look back on it, especially now that he can barely remember what it really felt like; it’s all been tainted by feelings of guilt and a sense of loss. it’s only when listening to songs like this, singing in such plain, yet effective words about new love and the unknown and the anxiety that comes with those things that he can almost feel it again, like the ghosts of butterflies  start to flit around his stomach again.

a minute later, he’s finishing the song with a final, gentle downward strum that rings out. he hears a smattering of applause and looks up with wide eyes, having genuinely forgotten about the possibility of people watching him toward the last bit of the song. 

he smiles with both his lips and his eyes, warmth in his stomach as he stands up and bows to the small crowd one, two, three times. 

“thank you,” he says in korean, feeling just a tiny bit proud of himself. this wouldn’t look like much of a risk to people on the outside, but he feels like he’s just vaulted over one of the biggest hurdles in front of him. 

though he feels like all he wants to do is lay on the ground and bask in his relief, he quickly packs up his guitar and picks up the stool, beginning his trek back to his apartment with the slight smile still on his face.

[icosahedonist]

(image from @zashamalkin​)

@sevenfists, here’s my rebuttal re: Sid’s terrible, horrible, no good very bad mustache.

Zhenya stepped out of the shower and walked to the adjacent bedroom, toweling himself off as he went. On their bed, Sid sat propped up against the headboard, poking diligently at his phone, no doubt playing one of his numerous time wasters. Zhenya watched Sid idly flex his bare feet, noted the solid lines of his body underneath the old sweats and t-shirt he wore. Sid looked good, Zhenya thought. Well, Sid always looked good: this was obvious. But—

Sid looked up and smiled. "All clean?"

Zhenya fought back a sigh. But. He had that dreadful thing attached to his upper lip. All month long Zhenya had had to contend with Sid's awful mustache. Every evening, a powerful urge to attack Sid's face with a razor threatened to overwhelm him. He knew it was for a good cause, but could any good cause truly justify making everyone suffer through such a terrible grooming choice? Zhenya consoled himself with the fact that tomorrow was the last day of the month. Just one more day and they'd be free again.

"Yes, I'm clean." He tossed his towel toward the bathroom, not especially dry but no longer caring. He climbed on to the end of the bed and grasped Sid's ankles, tucking his fingers under the elastic ends and scratching at the coarse hair of Sid's calves. Sid parted his knees and tossed his phone onto the bedside table—precisely what Zhenya wanted. He watched Sid slump down into the pillows and palm his thighs.

Sid jostled his feet a little. "Hey. C'mere." This, Zhenya knew, was typically when Sid wanted to start making out. But—

He must have hesitated too long because Sid said, "Hey, what's up, G?" and sat back up. Zhenya shook his head. It was nothing—it was still only facial hair, regardless of how bad it was, and no reason to deny himself the pleasure of Sid's mouth. But Sid was too sharp by half, and began grinning before Zhenya had crawled halfway to him.

"What, you don't like it?" Sid asked, stroking a hand over the monstrosity. Zhenya rolled his eyes.

"Oh my god," he muttered. Sid laughed and tilted his face to accept Zhenya’s reluctant kisses. The mustache tickled a little, but Zhenya valiantly ignored it. This close, he didn’t have to look at it, at least.

“You know,” Sid said as he drew back. A whine escaped Zhenya’s throat; Sid chuckled. “It’s gonna be gone tomorrow, you know. Back to normal.”

“Normal” sometimes meant scruff nowadays, but Zhenya didn’t mention that. “Yes, I know this, Sid,” he replied. “It’s just—”

“Terrible, awful, horrible. I think you told me once or twice.” Sid grinned, unrepentant.

Zhenya groaned. “It’s so bad! I’m suffer so much, Sid, you don’t know.” He flopped down beside Sid with a put-upon sigh, because life was rough. He got paid millions to do a job he loved, he was adored by countless fans, and he couldn’t kiss his boyfriend this month without being attacked by a bushy interloper.

“Aww.” Sid kissed his forehead. It was scratchy.

“So bad,” Zhenya grumbled. But since Sid was in a good mood... “You make it up to me?” He looked up at Sid through his eyelashes; he was determined to sell it.

Sid snorted. “You poor baby. Fine, I’ll see what I can do.” He was still smiling, though, so Zhenya felt smug in his victory. He turned onto his back so he could enjoy his impending blowjob.

Sid made his way down Zhenya’s body with a trail of ticklish kisses and feather-light caresses, a quiet kind of delight that warmed Zhenya up. Sid pressed his hands to Zhenya’s hips, thumbs catching at the crests, then moved over to kneel between his legs. He reached up to grab a pillow—and that threw Zhenya enough that Sid had to repeat himself when he asked Zhenya to lift his hips.

“Keep ‘em up for me, okay?” Sid said, bending Zhenya’s legs toward his chest. Numbly, Zhenya grabbed the backs of his knees while Sid situated himself on his belly.

They didn’t do this often. It just wasn’t something that featured heavily in their sexual repertoire, and that was fine of course but—it was always Zhenya who initiated it. Sid never offered or asked for it, so watching Sid get comfortable, feeling the first sweep of Sid’s thumb against his hole, had Zhenya’s cock firming up already.

Warm breath skittered across Zhenya’s skin. Sid stayed there a long moment before moving forward to gently kiss him, his mustache sweeping along Zhenya’s rim, sending goosebumps shivering through his legs. The mustache was a factor that Zhenya hadn’t fully considered; each delicate kiss came with an accompanying brush of hair that Zhenya quickly found electrifying.

And Sid often liked to draw things out, play around a little. Tease. That was fine most of the time, Zhenya was happy to lie back and let Sid indulge himself in Zhenya's body. But now, Sid progressing to flicking his tongue around Zhenya's hole with soft, kittenish licks, Zhenya reconsidered. Sid’s pace was maddening: leisurely and roundabout. Zhenya gripped the backs of his knees tighter when Sid started leaving slow, sucking kisses along his rim, dragging out groans like pulling on a string.

With each long pass of his tongue, Sid’s mustache scraped along Zhenya’s taint, leaving a wet, tingling trail that had Zhenya panting. His balls felt tight and his dick ached to be touched; he wanted to let go of his legs and stroke himself, but he wanted more for Sid to be the one who made him come. He was so close: he just needed a little more to go off like a firecracker.

Sid’s tongue pushed its way in with a wriggle, and that was it. Zhenya spurted all over his stomach, limbs shaking and voice becoming ragged while Sid held on and sucked at Zhenya’s hole. Sid rode him out until at last Zhenya let go of his jellified legs, then sat up and stuck his hand down his sweats and pulled himself out.

“God,” Sid ground out, his hand a blur on his cock. His mouth was slick with spit, and—fuck, his mustache was completely sodden. The sight of it made Zhenya’s dick twitch futilely, which he did not need, he did not need to develop some sort of bizarre, ultra-specific attraction to Sid’s fucking mustache. Instead he watched Sid jerk himself, and drank in Sid’s moan as he splashed his come over Zhenya’s spent cock.

Breathless, Sid collapsed beside him. Zhenya cuddled close, fighting the threatening chill with Sid’s generous body heat. They stayed like that a while, Zhenya drifting into a doze as Sid idly ran his fingers up and down Zhenya’s arm.

“So?”

“Hmm?”

“Did I make it up to you?”

Zhenya opened his eyes. Sid had that earnest look on his face that, with years of experience, Zhenya readily translated as bullshit. He huffed out a breath and replied, “Yes, yes, I’m forgive. I can make it tomorrow.”

Zhenya didn’t like the sudden glint in Sid’s eyes. “I dunno, G... I’m kinda on a point streak now...”

“No.”

Sid laughed and pressed terrible, soggy kisses all over Zhenya’s horrified face.

[laurelsofhighever]

The Falcon and the Rose Ch. 29 Interlude: A Royal Welcome

Chapter 1 on AO3 This chapter on AO3 Masterpost here

Ninth day of Justinian, 9:32 Dragon 

“The tide’s turned, Your Majesty, we'll be for Denerim in a few moments.” 

Queen Anora turned to the captain of the Morvran and nodded her understanding. Sea travel did not agree with her, and most of her two-week voyage from Gwaren had been spent shut in her cabin, feverish and struggling to hold down even the ship's biscuit the surgeon had given her to settle her stomach. The effects of such confinement still showed in her sunken cheeks and sallow skin, her gown hanging loose at the hips, but nonetheless she had insisted on rousing herself for her first sight of Denerim in over six months. In high summer, the distant city settled on the lip of the sea like a child's building blocks on a swathe of brilliant blue velvet, with guarding flanks of green hills to either side and white flecks of gulls wheeling overhead. Closer to, the smell of garbage and hot streets would overpower the serene image, but for now, the place was a perfect tableau welcoming the queen home.  

For everything that had happened since she was last here, she was glad to be back. Gwaren might be her childhood home, but it was a backwater, cramped and dull, where she felt more like a pawn than a queen, unable to move or influence her own destiny. Here, she could have a hand in swaying the course of the war being fought for her sake – and she would do it on her own terms. 

The captain called out and the ship lurched forward as air filled the sails, a stately progression towards the crowded dockside and the escort waiting on the royal wharf. Anora frowned. The men who had come to meet her were dressed in Gwaren black instead of royal crimson as was custom for the welcome of a visiting monarch. To the commoners gathered on the foreshore with sprays of flowers and waving ribbons, it might seem like just another show of pageantry, but her father was a shrewd politician and she read his deeper meaning well. 

Look who holds power here, who protects the Queen of Ferelden when her king does not. 

An unpleasant twinge twisted in Anora's gut, nothing to do with seasickness. What had her father done with those of the royal guard left in the palace? His most recent letters left the impression of a scattered, preoccupied mind, with mentions of ‘discipline' meted out to ensure the loyalty of those who could not be trusted – and he had not wanted her to come. Her pleas to join him had been deferred and then ignored completely. Only with the king’s army poised in Redcliffe and Rosslyn Cousland prowling wolf-like ever closer did he relent, though even then he did not grasp the full scope of her danger. 

Rosslyn Cousland was a problem. The thought of being at the mercy of the younger woman had chafed every day until Anora put Gwaren behind her. The Teyrna of Highever's reputation flew before her, battle after battle won, charm and wit and a fierce, uncompromising thirst to avenge the wrongs done to her that bordered on brutality. At times, the young hero reminded the queen of her father, of the gleam in his eye when he told tales of the glory days of the Rebellion. She had skill, and old bloodline loyalties unmatched by any except perhaps the Guerrins of Redcliffe.

Still, it was Lady Cousland's relationship to the king that bothered Anora most. The last intelligence mentioned she had been made Commander-in-Chief of the army, unusual for one so young; she must have won great favour both on and off the field to have gained such an honour, and given Cailan's preference for young, unattached noblewomen, the connection wasn’t difficult to guess. Politically speaking, they would make a good match, and without family support the young upstart was no doubt eager for allies. Between her, and this new bastard brother Cailan had found crawling through the wilds, Anora found her grasp on the throne being slowly pried away. It could not be allowed. 

“We're coming in now, Ma'am.” The captain kept one eye on the crew scurrying below. “There’s a bit of chop so you’d better brace yourself.” 

The ship made its last slow approach to the dock and she stood resolute. Only her hand braced against the rail betrayed her composure, the knuckles turning white with eagerness to be back on dry land, among her people in the place she belonged. Her father waited for her, towering above the crowd on his blood-bay charger, while her own grey palfrey waited in the hands of a groom. She studied him as she waited for the gangplank to be lowered. Even from a distance, he looked haggard, though still stubbornly proud and tall. A pang went through her; he was too old to be leading a rebellion, and it must eat at him, to think that this time his orders condemned not Orlesian chevaliers, but the very people for whom he had shed his blood to protect thirty years ago. 

He dismounted as the captain handed her down the gangplank. The crowd that had come to meet her pressed forward, threw flowers under her feet, cheered her name and reached out to touch the fine material of her clothes. She smiled at them, clasped hands and offered well-wishes, hoping now to still the flutter in her chest before the moment of first meeting with the man who treasured her even above everything in the world. 

She was going to betray him. 

Even before leaving Gwaren, she was decided. Her father no longer listened to her council, and the civil war would bring Ferelden to ruin. Exhausted from fighting each other, with crops wilting in the fields and winter a hungry wolf at the door, its people would make easy pickings for any with a mind to take advantage of it. Orlais would sweep down and, without organised opposition, would reclaim all the territory they had lost since the Occupation, only this time the sword of conquest would be touched by the poison of revenge. More than that, if the war was lost, those closest would be tainted by association, maybe even put on trial alongside him; the Dove of Gwaren would be usurped by the Falcon of Highever and left with nothing. 

Finally, she faced him. 

“Anora, my dear, you’ve made good time,” Loghain pronounced, reaching out his hands for her as if she were still six years old. “I trust your journey was fair?” 

“Father.” She smiled. “The Maker blessed us with good winds and clear skies all along the coast. You look tired.” 

Brushing one hand over the locket at his throat, the old war hero laughed. “It’s to be expected, living in a draughty castle with nobody allowing me a moment’s peace.” 

“You haven’t been eating properly, I suppose,” she chided. “You’ve probably been growling at the servants to bring you all the foods you know upset you, just because they don’t have the heart to gainsay you.” 

“You treat me like a grouchy old man.” 

“You are.”

He laughed again and folded her hand into the crook of his elbow, turning to lead her towards the horses. Her gelding recognised her and nosed forward with a soft whicker, flicking his ears towards the low tone of her voice. The groom holding the bridle bowed and reached back to hold the side-saddle while another set a mounting block by the stirrup. Loghain handed her up to take her seat, then waited while she settled her skirts and drew in the reins. People in the crowd still called out to her, but the soldiers held them back and she ignored them with the detachment expected of a queen, instead following her father’s progress as he crossed to his own mount and accepted a leg-up from his sergeant. The momentary wince that crossed his features as he straightened in the saddle told her how much his joints must be paining him, even in the heat of summer, but he waved her concern away as he drew alongside her.

“Shall we, my dear?” he asked. “The people are eager to see their queen return.”

She nodded and clucked her horse into step with his, keeping her head high and her shoulders thrown back, her mouth set in a pleasant smile to hide her annoyance at being used as a prop. The procession back to the palace would probably lead along every street in the city, through the alienage and the marketplaces and the noble quarter to show her off like a prize, a token of her father’s suitability as regent. Arguing about it would do no good, and would only show her hand when – for now, at least – she existed above reproach, trusted. Muteness gave her a better ear for listening, privileged access to her father’s dealings, and a more profound voice when she did choose to speak.

She glanced to him, riding easy with one hand on his hip, and felt a stiffening of resolve. All her life she had been taught how to be a court flower, how to be a mirror for a man’s ambitions, but now with first one then another turning those ambitions to self-destruction, the time had come to use that teaching as a tool for her own success. No more would she sit demurely by, playing the part of a shadow whispering pretty words; all that remained was to find a messenger who could be trusted enough to take her correspondence to the king in secret.