#holding my creatures in my hands. they are capable of such a beautiful joy. it's actually vital that they are

[xiii-e]

//ooc posting: I NEED to find more fun/silly things to do with my two they are Not meant to be all agony all the time I swear- I just have a penchant for the dramatic and they're a little in the torment nexus o(-< but on god they will Have Fun too

[cybrsan]

Treasure — J.WY [Pt. 1]

STORY SUMMARY: Wooyoung is moon-blessed, a waterbender born under the Siren Moon that rises once every 88 years. His blessing is believed to be his unique and powerful healing abilities that he has coined “Wavesong.” However, his true gift is that of his prophetic dreams, glimpses of futures yet to unfold—and you just happen to be the subject of his recent visions.

PAIRING: Waterbender Jung Wooyoung x Non-Bender F!Reader

RATING/GENRE: M ; angst, fluff, eventual smut ; ATLA au, enemies to lovers

WORD COUNT: 2.6k

WARNINGS: Minor POV switches

A/N: This story has been a long time coming. It is the second addition to my "Ode To ATEEZ" series and the first to my "Together in Harmony" series. I decided to split it into chapters because I believe it will flow better that way. I hope you enjoy!

LINKS: Ode To ATEEZ Masterlist | Together in Harmony Masterlist | Cross-posted on AO3

Masterlist | Next ↠

Crossing the Desert of Eden is not for the faint of heart. It is one of the world’s greatest paradoxes, a place where nature's most wonderful and most dangerous creatures coexist in a delicate balance. Even the sand itself is an example of this—crystalline and beautiful, ever sparkling under the light of the sun, yet each granule is as jagged as splinters of glass. Without proper foot bindings, your journey cannot even begin.

Amidst the harsh landscape, pockets of life burst forth in brilliant defiance. Rare desert blooms dot the barren terrain with bursts of color. Some hold the power to heal, their petals emitting a fragrance that soothes both body and soul. Others are laced with deadly venom, capable of stopping a heart with but a single touch.

Sand serpents slither through the dunes, their scales nearly translucent, giving them the ability to blend in seamlessly with the landscape. One bite is all it takes for total paralysis to overtake you, rendering you incapacitated for mere minutes to hours at a time. Celestial birds soar overhead, searching for prey, their wings casting shadows on the ground below.

And even if you’re able to avoid those threats, blinding winds carry grains of sand like lashes, stinging skin, obliterating landmarks, and disorienting even the most skilled navigators. The desert swallows the unwary, erasing their footprints from existence.

It is in this very place that Wooyoung finds himself, accompanied by seven of his fellow benders. In normal circumstances, he would avoid a place like this at all costs, his sense of self-preservation persevering over the curiosity of what secrets the desert holds. But things haven’t been normal for a long, long time. 

He feels like he’s been walking for days, his legs heavy and leaden. Despite his protective robes, the wind and sand have whipped at his skin, leaving it battered and raw. Just one look at the faces of his companions is enough to prove he isn’t the only one feeling this way. The only one who seems miraculously energized is their de-facto leader, Hongjoong. He moves forward with ferocity, a tinge of madness in his eyes.

To his left, Yeosang stumbles, nearly falling onto the sand below. Wooyoung reaches out for him, a second too slow, but luckily San reacts quicker, catching him by the arm. The exhaustion has begun to take its toll. Everyone comes to a stop, nervous energy flowing between them. Everyone except Hongjoong, that is. Seonghwa, the eldest of the group and the one with the most power after their leader, places a hand on his shoulder.

“We need to rest, Joong. Look at the kids—they’re exhausted. Yeosang almost collapsed.”

‘The kids.’ Wooyoung frowns, the endearment not sparking the same joy that it used to. Seonghwa and Hongjoong may only be a year older than the rest of them—two in Jongho’s case—but they’ve always referred to them that way. Wooyoung used to find it cute, often teasing them about how they acted like an old married couple. He supposes that the recent distaste for the nickname comes from the fact that Hongjoong hasn’t been the same ever since he told him about his dream.

It takes a moment for Hongjoong to comprehend what Seonghwa said, thoughts still elsewhere. Yet once his eyes find Yeosang, he immediately acquiesces, apologizing for not stopping sooner. His entire demeanor seems to soften, making him seem more like himself. Wooyoung already feels like he can breathe better because of it. 

“Hopefully we aren’t too far from a Dweller community,” Hongjoong says, taking out his compass. “Let’s go.”

The Dune Dwellers are natives of Eden, having found ways to thrive in even the most unfavorable conditions. They aren’t particularly fond of outsiders, regarding any so-called adventurers as naive and stupid more than anything else. They often find the remains of the less fortunate, bodies lost to the sand. Dwellers are some of the only people who know how to navigate the desert and survive, but even they won’t wander into it aimlessly, searching for a treasure that may or may not exist.

Luckily, it isn’t long until they find one of their communities with Hongjoong’s guidance. Tracking their location becomes easier when you familiarize yourself with the signs the locals leave for one another, like a carving in a rock or some shimmering paint on a cactus. Things that are easy to miss when you don’t know what you’re looking for. 

The town is small, cut through the middle by a bustling market area teeming with vendors trying to pawn off their goods. Wooyoung immediately feels some of his tension fade away, the lively environment making him feel more at home. You wouldn’t expect any place in such a barren landscape to be so full of life, but the Dwellers have a thriving community of their own despite their living conditions.

The sounds of haggling and bartering are music to his ears, and he quickly finds himself imbued with newfound energy, eager to start talking to people and fishing for information. Maybe he’ll be able to find some clues as to Pandora’s location, and Hongjoong can finally be appeased. He makes a quick plan with the others to meet at the town’s small inn at sunset before wandering off on his own. 

The scent of spices, freshly baked bread, and cooking meat mingle in the air as he walks, making his mouth water. He stops at a stall selling juice made from prickly pears, kept cool by the waterbender who continuously refreezes the ice it sits upon. In exchange for a few copper coins, he buys a glass and greedily gulps it down.

He shivers, the cold drink a shock to his system in the hot, dry climate. It is both tangy and sweet and he hums, pleased, as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and returns the glass to the merchant. Just as he goes to pull his hand back, the man grabs his wrist. Wooyoung's heart jumps in his chest and, though he tries to keep his composure, he is sure the shock shows on his face. Dwellers may not greet outsiders with open arms, but they’ve never shown any outward acts of aggression toward them before.  

“What are you doing here, nakuto? You’re a long way from the Water Tribe.”

Wooyoung gently removes his arm from the man’s grasp, though he is no longer fearful. The term nakuto, a respectable term for ‘young one,’ brings back memories of his home and instantly puts him at ease. “How did you know I was a waterbender?” 

“I don’t see many of my own kind out here; most are exiles from the Fire Nation or native sandbenders. Your necklace gives you away.”

Instinctively, Wooyoung reaches up, fingers caressing the delicate shells around his neck. He supposes it is reminiscent of the Water Tribe, but he’s worn it for years and barely remembers that it’s there. It was a gift from his brother, a good luck charm given to him when he left for the Fire Nation seven years ago. 

The man continues, “Did something happen to your Tribe, boy? It’s not safe out here.”

“No, it’s not like that. I’m here with a group of other benders—we’re looking for the eternal library, Pandora.”

“Pandora,” the man scoffs. “A myth. You should turn back while you still can.”

“I’m afraid turning back isn’t an option. Come on, pakana. Surely you must know something.” 

The man harrumphs, though Wooyoung can tell the use of the honorific pleases him by the slight smile that tugs at his lips. “You can call me Marok.”

“I’m Wooyoung.”

“Well, Wooyoung, there really isn’t that much information out there about Pandora; I probably don’t know much more than you do.” Marok creates a small stream of water from the melting ice, absent-mindedly spinning it around his fingers as he talks. “I’ll tell you what—go talk to ol’ Nadira. She’s a sandbender, and been here almost all her life. If anyone were to know something, it’d be her. Go west of town and look for a purple tent with yellow flags.”

“Thank you, Marok—I appreciate your help. Yui remoi.”

“Bayui jilok.”

Wooyoung nods, acknowledging Marok��s blessing, and starts to head west. The sun has begun to set, and he suspects he has less than an hour before he has to meet the others at the inn. Hopefully, whoever Nadira is, she’ll be cooperative. With the town being as small as it is, it doesn’t take him long to reach the outskirts, and the bright purple tent is easy to spot, a beacon of color amongst the sand. Just as he reaches the entrance, a girl pushes the flap aside, nearly bumping into him as she exits in a hurry. 

“Sorry,” she mutters, barely acknowledging him as she rushes back to town. 

The hair on the back of Wooyoung’s neck stands up. He doesn’t get a good look at her face, but her voice and white robes… He stops himself, shaking away the uncomfortable feeling of familiarity. Her eerie similarity to the girl he’s been seeing in his dreams for the past few nights is of little importance. He’s not trusting his visions ever again and will do whatever he can to avoid those uncertain futures. He quickly enters the tent, ready to get some answers so that he and the others can leave this town and the girl behind come morning.

You rush past the boy entering the tent, barely sparing him a glance as you hurry back toward town. Your conversation with Nadira was unsatisfactory, to say the least. She couldn’t tell you much more than you already knew, which is that Pandora is near impossible to find and even harder to get into, especially as a non-bender. It’s rumored to be buried far under the sand, sealed shut by an elemental lock. However, she was surprised by the map you carried with you, saying she hadn’t ever known there to be someone who successfully cataloged all of Eden. She couldn’t confirm whether or not the entirety of it was correct, though she did verify that certain locations lined up with her own knowledge of the desert.

You relax your steps, an exasperated laugh slipping from your lips as you realize you were practically stomping out of frustration. You take a moment to center yourself; as tempting as it may be to sell the map to the nearest street vendor, you’ve traveled too long and too far to give up now. Freedom is nearly in your grasp—you can feel it. You will claw your way to it if you must.      

Double-checking that the map is secure inside your sling bag, you tighten the strap around your torso and head through the doors of the inn. The atmosphere is much livelier now that it’s late afternoon, with talking and laughter nearly drowning out the small band playing in the corner. The bar area seems to be where most people are congregating, chugging down mead and ale. The one serving maid is busy juggling orders from all directions, delivering filled mugs to rowdy drinkers who seem to enjoy cheering each other on for every sip taken. 

As you weave through the crowded tables in search of a seat, you can’t help but notice a group of travelers that stand out from the crowd. You could sense their disharmony from a mile away—two members seem to be locked in a heated argument, heads close together as they speak in hushed voices. A few of the others seem to be playing a drinking game that involves making silly gestures and mimicking one another while one boy gazes off into the distance, lost in thought. Your interest peaked, you take a seat at the bar, right next to a man who has several empty tankards in front of him. He doesn’t seem too inebriated, but surely he’s drunk enough that his lips will be loose. 

You place a few coins on the counter, ordering two drinks. You slide one to the man to capture his attention and nod in the group's direction, asking, “So, what do you know about the new guys in town?” 

The man eyes you, scrutinizing your appearance. He must see something that he likes because he decides to indulge you, taking the ale in hand and relaxing further into his seat. “Heard from the barkeep that they’re some adventurers tryna find the library of Pandora.” He huffs and takes a long drink before adding, “A buncha fools.” 

You bristle, wanting to defend them as their goal seems to be the same as yours, but you stop yourself, not wanting to discourage the man from sharing more information. “I see. Are they benders?” 

He nods. “Yeah, far as I know. One of ‘em is apparently tryna get some information outta Nadira.” 

You think back to the boy you saw entering the tent and curse yourself for not paying more attention. You could have talked to him, asked him why he was seeing Nadira, and proposed some sort of alliance. Winning one man over would be easier than winning over seven all at once. But alas, that seems to be your only option. Taking one last swig of your ale, you hop off the bar stool and give the man a two-finger salute.

“Thanks for your time—enjoy the rest of your night.” 

He raises his mug and bids you farewell as you turn around, steeling your nerves as you march right up to the group of benders. One of the quarreling men who dons a head of striking red hair notices you first, his eyes instantly narrowing upon your approach. He slides closer to the others, almost protective in his movements, seemingly forgetting his previous argument. 

“Can I help you?” 

His voice is steady, laced with none of the heat you had expected. Instead, his words are cold, punctuated in a way that cuts you like a knife. However, you refuse to let him intimidate you.

“Yes, actually. I heard you were looking for Pandora.”

He quirks an eyebrow. “Why is that of any interest to you?”

“I’m looking for it too.”

“And?”

You grit your teeth, his standoffish attitude grating on your nerves. The man he was fighting with places a hand on his arm and steps slightly in front of him, greeting you with a smile. You can immediately feel the difference in his aura, the gentleness radiating off of him. He is the water to the red-headed man’s fire. Perhaps literally.

“Sorry, Hongjoong is just a bit… on edge lately. I’m Seonghwa.” 

He takes a moment to introduce each of the others before asking for your name in return. You’re surprised to find that they’re a pretty well-balanced group, with at least one bender for each element. That will definitely come in handy when it comes to the elemental lock. You almost can’t believe your luck; after all this time, maybe things are finally turning around in your favor.

Yunho, an airbender who was a part of the group playing the drinking game earlier, chimes in. “So, you’re looking for Pandora too?” 

You nod. “That’s right. I think we can help each other.” You reach into your bag and wrap your fingers around the map. “You see, I—”

“Wooyoung!” 

You’re interrupted by San, a dimpled firebender, who gets up to excitedly greet the missing member of their party; Wooyoung must be the boy you bumped into earlier. Now that you have a moment to actually look at him, you suppose that he’s quite beautiful, with a sharp nose and full lips. His hair is like nothing you have ever seen before—silver on top with blue ends, comparable only to how it looks when the light of the moon meets the sea. 

Your lips barely part to greet him when he turns to you, eyes ablaze with hatred. “What is she doing here?”

NETWORKS: @cromernet @kflixnet @pirateeznet

TAGLIST: @nebulousbookshelf @ad0rechuu @seonghwaddict @sanniesbunnie @wooya1224 @tournesol155 @ja3hwa @pocketjoong-reads @lovandr

[sky-kiss]

A/N: Can't sleep. And horrible, horrible, unholy creatures prompted for soft ascended fiend. Please understand, any additional ficlets this week will be horrific and dark to counterbalance this crime.

Also. Using my OC (which I don't do here) to cheat this prompt. In an established universe. HAH.

Ascended Fiend Raphael: You think he chuffs? I think he chuffs.

“He’s making a mess of the place.” 

“Well, we wanted to see what he was capable of?”

Haarlep fixes her with a withering look, lips pressing to a thin line. Their face is naturally expressive; Joi has the distinct pleasure of watching all his thoughts pass across his face without pretense or restraint. The sum of these parts amounts to an unambiguous: you fucking dolt. 

“We knew. The princeling wanted to showboat. And now look.”

The fiend continues its rampage through the arena, tail lashing behind it, wings spread. Its fires burn brighter than ever, hot enough to leave the entirety of the building sweltering. A tinge of iron hangs in the air, married to sulfur and the sickly sweetness of charred flesh. Raphael has been neither subtle nor graceful in his carnage: the room is a mess of gore, devils, and demons alike. 

A bolt of hellfire tears from its right hand, ripping across the arena. The Abishai screams in agony, briefly sputtering before its form gives way. Ash flutters about the arena, and the fiend howls its delight. 

He’s beautiful, she thinks. All the wrath of the Hells made manifest. Raphael lifts his head, scenting the air. Robbed of his toys and the distraction of live prey, it looks for alternate means of entertainment. The creature’s good eyes fix upon them. 

“If the brute comes over here, I’ll sacrifice you,” Haarlep grumbles.

She pats their chest. “I’m well aware.” He’s done it before; he’ll do it again. The incubus intends to outlive them all. “Help me down?” 

Their expression twists with savage delight. “As the lady wishes.” 

Haarlep holds her elbow as she climbs over the arena’s edge. The distance makes her dizzy, forty or fifty down into the pit, necessary for some of the beasts the Archduke houses below. Flight is an option, but it’s easier to fall, whispering the familiar incantation to make herself feather-light. 

The fiend shrieks. Raphael’s voice bleeds into the bestial sound, one note among many; she holds onto this familiarity as it tears across the remaining space, hellfire, and claws. She swallows. 

The claws of its right-hand curl around her waist, pressing just to the point of pain. Some break flesh. Raphael huffs again, sniffing, hot gusts of air ruffling her hair. Joi holds out her hand. 

It kneels. The distance between them remains too great, the size difference too vast. The fiend hauls her nearer, chuffing, nuzzling the center skull against her chest. She trails the tips of her nails across his forehead, ignoring the hiss of pain in her side and the blood staining his jaws. 

“You’ve upset Haarlep, dear one.” One could be forgiven for mistaking the sound it makes for a laugh. If nothing else, her duke preens, wings stretching to their full span. It tries to get nearer, to close what little invisible space exists between them, recognizing its scent on her skin.  It purrs. “They worked very hard to find you all these toys…” 

“...and he’s broken them immediately.” The incubus snaps, voice echoing around them. “Ungrateful little brat.” 

"They're going to be insufferable tonight. You understand this, yes?" The right head’s expression twists in some approximation of glee. Joi shakes her head, cooing to the great beast until it finally sets her down. She kisses its ruined skull, motioning it to follow her towards the holding pens. Perhaps they will find new prey among the wastes; perhaps she’ll indulge its appetites. 

So much potential. So little time.

[jamescecils]

 He had tried different expedients to fulfil his existence that day; having alighted upon no great venture, James took to touring handsome apartments and staircases, conscious of a unsatisfied desire for beauty. His hour of torment would be ended by hands as soft and thinly veined as petals, resting gently upon his sleeve. Very graceful was the lady's countenance; delicate and stately was her whole aspect. As he looked, he felt she was known to him, and, drawing a little nearer (courting their impact) he fully recognized her; Kismet Dudley, sister of the bespoke Robert Dudley. How animated was her face as she made apologies; how true and warm, yet retiring joy it expressed. This combination of circumstances, at once attracted James' attentions, and sought to both subdue and excite him. A smile of feeling, unconscious of its power, slept soft in her eyes; James felt handsome, mettle and purpose roused in him. "I cannot think of a better happenstance, than our paths being joined; what ails you, dear one? Allow me to pledge my fielty to you - I shall devout myself to your happiness alone." 

She was a rapid, animated speaker - yet with her artless diction and soft voice, she never seemed to speak too much or too little. How Kismet's eyes were a rich gift of nature; fine and full, large and dark, seeming to hold dominion over slighter, subordinate features; capable, undoubtedly, of much more significance than she afforded him now. Her eyes settled upon his face like the solemn eyes of some pretty, wandering doe; she was a fine, delicate creature of noble birth - but made, with the languid allure and the ice of pride, like a sovereign. "God has sensed my unrest and delivered unto me the gift of your presence - my nightly prayers will have particular vigour, this evening. It pained me to lack your attentions at King William's fete - has a rival emerged, whom I must challenge for your affections?" 

closed starter for @jamescecils! when: a few days post play in the park ! where: i don't know ! a hallway !

it seemed that there was a restless energy of sorts that had made itself home in the places between kismet's bones, she'd been unable to even derive pleasure from her needlework. sewing had always been a favored pastime of the young woman, yet this afternoon she'd stuck herself several times with the needle and ruined the garment she'd been attempting to embroider. perhaps if kismet was lucky, her brother would never inquire about where his doublet had vanished too and she would not have to spin a sinful lie to disguise the reality that she'd hid it at the bottom of her own trunk out of shame. 

speaking of her pricked fingers, kismet lifted now to observe as she idly strolled down the hallway back towards the chambers that they were staying in. there was a soft frown on her features as she brought a finger to her lips to press a kiss to where a few stray marks rested. in her distracted moment, kismet hardly noticed the man heading the opposite direction of her till she nearly collided with him. " oh!" she stumbled for a moment, gripping his forearm to catch herself. " my lord, please forgive me, i fear my mind wandered so far that i was not fortunate to see you coming." she said softly, face flushed from the mistake of bumping into james.

[incogni-tome]

Briar’s Own Bloom (Twst Lilia - NSFW)

Pairing: Lilia/Reader Rating: NSFW/18+ Tags: mentions of mild violence, implied somnophilia (reader is very willing and receptive about it, however), mild size difference, vaginal fingering, praising, edging, body worship, dry humping, dom, sweet Lilia Words: 3k Summary: Your first visit to Briar Valley is turned into an almost nightmare when you find yourself trapped among the wrong crowd, before Lilia sweeps in to your rescue. But perhaps, your beautiful, timeless fae is not all pleased, at your inability to honor your promises. Author’s Notes: This was an indulgent ride and one I thoroughly enjoyed, Lilia is such fun! I hope you’ll enjoy your read.

Perhaps you should’ve considered your chances before attempting to outwit a fae, right within its domain. You did not quite think the fae capable of lies, as this bunch before you, ensnared into their trap before you could think to blink. The previously bright, fascinating cobbled streets of Briar valley seem much more enshrouded and dark within the narrow alley they’ve holed you up against.

Lilia’s merry words of caution come to mind in that instant, perhaps dismissed out of conscious thought due to the manner he’d uttered them in; almost an after-thought. Even as you’re reminded of how his gaze stayed upon yours as he’d waited on your promise: to not wander and be taken in by the enchantments that permeated his fair country.

The inhumane horned creature closest to you — the largest among your three current captors — tips his head uncomfortably close to your neck and sniffs. “This one’s clothes alone would sell for a pretty thaumark.” A hand you bring up on instinct to strike at the man but he grabs onto your wrist before you deal any damage, pressing his body closer against yours. You squirm within his hold, futile as it feels, biding time to cut in a desperate escape, or at least until your friends discover your folly and come to your rescue.

Your heart thrums harder over its beats in rising anxiety, just as your captor drags your face closer, an eerie light within that pale watery gaze. “You want our dracaena altissima, human child?” He inquires, blade-sharp mirth within his wide smile.

“…Yes,” you breathe, hoping against despairing hope they’d let you leave, if your price is right, for the Briar valley exclusive herb your steps initially brought you into this damned place for. “I have the thaumarks to pay for your services, gentlemen, if you’d… amend your ways and act like gentlemen.”

Their grins are terrifying things, the gnarled smoke of nightmares, as they huddle in closer. Filthy hands reaching for; settling upon your neck, skirting down against your waist as if appraising. You open your mouth to scream before their laughter consumes all sound, and quivers within your very marrow, as they gasp your fate in between ugly guffaws. “Then you can earn the dracaena altissima through your body, human. A young, healthy one like you would fetch in quite the gold, what say you?”

Your heart beat’s an incessant series of loud, ringing sounds within your ears, sweat slicking against your struggling body, pasting your shirt fast against your back. Raising a leg to aim a swing at them in defense, just as Jack taught you once, as your last ditch attempt. Before their vile howls of laughter are pierced through all at once, by lilting sniggers, far quiet and somehow... far more menacing. Floating in, disjointed amongst their sounds of revulsion, your heart nearly leaps of joy.

And before words of relief can leave your aching throat, the trio in front is whipped far out of reach, within a moment’s blink. The sickening sound of bones cracking, reaches your ears a swift second before you feel Silver’s warmth close by.

Farther out, the welcoming chimes of his voice ring through and soothe your nerves. “My, what do we have here? Naughty lads who’ve got no business being as rowdy as they are in, Malleus’ territory.”

You feel Silver’s quiet reassurance, a gentle hand he slips across your shoulder.

“L-L-Lilia-sama! It was that filthy human! W-we wouldn’t, otherwise, dare—”

“But we’ve clearly dared, haven’t we? And harmed a precious guest of our Malleus.” Lilia’s clear, chiding tone, almost as if speaking to children, is at discordant odds with the terror you hear in your assailants’ voices.

Silver’s hand squeezing at your shoulder is what nips your attention back to his low query. “Are you alright?” You don’t trust yourself to speak just yet, nodding instead in answer.

Silver slips a surreptitious step forward, effectively blocking your sight of Lilia entirely. “Please don’t look at Father right now.” Meeting his somewhat taut gaze, you nod your assent once more — albeit slow, but you’re done disobeying them for the day — letting him smooth a gloved hand across your vision, the last sight you see, of Silver’s lips shaping rapid, over words of a spell.

The last you hear of Lilia’s voice, still so very airy and bright, within that tense atmosphere, “Which hand was it, that touched our precious guest? Come, come, show me those fingers, boys.”

Muted cries of terrified agony following your easy spiral into darkness.

Warm leather and an incessant cool drag; two opposing sensations trek slow patterns across your bare skin, soothing yet ticklish, it rocks you gently out of dreamless slumber. And then, immediate terrified realization: of that strange touch across your body, springing to mind dark remembrance of the ruffians that had you cornered within that stifling back-alley.

An arm you throw out in an instinctive fit of panic to overpower your captor before it’s seized within a firm, gentle grip. A familiar voice, piping in mild surprise, “Be calm, it’s only me”

And your flight-or-fight response falls slack instantly to hear Lilia’s voice. Wide, ruby eyes coming into view within your foggy vision, you sag against his grip, just as he releases your wrist. “Lilia…”

His thin lips stretch into a warm smile. “No need to be so afraid. You’re safe now, Prefect.”

Recalling the entire incident to mind, at last, “Oh! Thank you for saving m—” Before your gratitude dies on your tongue, to witness your state of undress; stark naked from the waist up. Lilia’s hands are on either side of your chest, thumbs slipping slow circles across sensitive skin. Sudden, startled mortification burns across your face at your strange, compromising positions. You try and squirm away from his grasp, on instinct but Lilia’s fingers stay adamant, digging in deep, as he hauls you even closer and nearly onto his lap.

That thin, beautiful smile pulls wider to reveal twin tips of fine canines, almost sinister. “Oh-oh, easy, you’ve not yet recovered. Why do you shy away from me?”

You sputter over an explanation that seems obvious… confusing, to your still muzzled brain. You’re not sure why Lilia’s touching you the way he is. The unsettling intimacy of his startling proximity and the way his seemingly delicate digits maintain an unyielding, harsh grip upon your smaller body, tracing shapes across your waist, has your mind tumbling into unwanted places. You’re undeniably warm, despite his cool touch.

“I… did not expect to be waking up like this exactly. Naked, with you on top of me,” you breathe at last, encasing his gloved hand with yours.

His laughter rings like chimes disturbed by a delicate touch of wind, “You humans with your droll sensitivities, how very precious.”

Raising a brow in question as his gentle amusement dashes all your ideas of being roused to wakefulness by Lilia’s stimulation of your body. Perhaps more innocent than you first considered… hoped it was. You clear your throat, hoping to dispel the discomfiting heat searing your cheeks. “Can I know what you are doing then?”

“Healing you.” A prompt press of fingers dragging beneath the give of your breasts, follows that response. You tremble at his touch. “Do you hurt anywhere?” He asks.

“Just a bit... numb where you’re touching.”

“That is good news. The troll fey you encountered are not terribly powerful creatures but they did attempt to subject you to a weak petrification spell.”

“Petrification?”

“Indeed. There were certain places on you found ‘touched’, once Silver retrieved you.” His merry gaze seems to lose its mirth in that moment. Unkind and cool, as if death’s specter itself fulgurates within blood-red garnet.

You blink, but Lilia’s smile is just as wide and unconcerned once more, mischief back and bright within his eyes. “But it’s no longer a concern as I have just finished tending to you.”

You open your mouth to voice further inquiries before they die on your tongue; his touch turning far decided and keener to be mistaken as innocuous. “However,” His fingers pluck a dance about the circle of your breasts before sweeping testing thumbs against the puckered peaks of them An action so deliberate, it reels a shaky gasp out of you. “I would like to know what curios flitter about in your mind right now, sweet, young one.”

Your lie is a swift, instinctive thing. “Nothing at all, nothing of consequence.” You know exactly what Lilia is asking of you, it drags a hot flush back into your face, skittering eyes refusing to meet his. You're not sure you can fib through, with any degree of success, in the face of one belonging to a species that does not lie, and does not let that become their flaw. Not even remotely.

His soft titters are tell-tale against the warmth of your cheek, his lips sinking onto the skin in a brief kiss. “What’s this?” The edge of a dark nail flicks about one pebbled nipple, index and thumb pinching for the shortest, pleasurable moment before he glides back entirely and you loose a defeated cry at the loss of him. “Do these eyes of mine fool me? Do you not want me touching you then? My work here is done, I suppose. Would you like to rest your weary head now? You’ve had a long day, after all.”

“No, please, your hands—”

His movements are fluid and whip swift, you do not catch him sink a thigh in between your desperate legs as they attempt to close, for any amount of friction, until you feel him impeding you. Choosing instead to rub your thighs against his clothed one, in protest.

Lilia’s smile is an aching balm as he looks down upon you, smoothing a curious thumb against your cheek. “This is why I ask for your truth, sweet one. Why do I smell arousal wafting off you when your mouth has done nothing but deny less than honorable intentions?” He tucks his face down in between the space of your heaving breasts, nosing down the line of your torso, denting into the squish of your stomach, right where the waistband of your skirt lies, as if breathing you in.

His name leaves you in garbled distress, body twitching against his unyielding strength shackling you down.

“Mmm, and what do we have to say for ourselves? I’m always listening.”

“I want you, Lilia, please.” You all but whine, seeds of humiliation tossed to the winds underneath your fae’s touch. Adding for good measure, "It hurts.”

"Oh, does it? Let me help you then.” His palms now shape against your cheeks, gentle, his smile is wide and appraising. “I’m so proud of you, pretty bloom. It’s never a good idea to lie so don’t do that again.” His voice is just as soft in its reproach as the hands that cradle you and yet, you gather the firm instruction commingled within that airy tone, a meaning deeper and indicating more than just your current little fibs. You’re so desperate for him to touch and soothe you, however, your mind glosses over that realization quickly, leaning into his touch.

“You lovely creatures are so honest in your slumber. I’m glad you’re trying your best to emulate that candor even in your current state.” His mouth drops to your body once more, quick tongue lapping a thin streak against the side of your ribs. You squirm at the sensation, pressing a hand into his hair, fingers threading through to hold. “My intent was chaste when I first uncovered you, pretty one. Your sweet mouth, however, wouldn’t stop crooning my name over and over, even as you slept. So aroused were you with just a touch of my corporal spell.” That dark wine gaze lifts to meet yours and stays. “It was quite the vile ordeal, not being able to kiss you.” He sounds almost doleful at the recollection.

Your mouth’s parched from how he’s made you pant for him and the way that strange flame seems to burn dark, within that bright gaze, has you croaking, “Why didn’t you then?”

His smile returns, so wide, you catch the glint of fangs within it. “Would you have liked me to?” He ducks to warm a kiss right against the corner of your lips, just as you mouth yes. “I refrained because I like the way you kiss me in return, gasping and so very flushed. Look. You are right now, too.”

His tongue seeps into your mouth before his compliment can burn you even brighter, breaking your moans against him instead. Lilia’s kisses are wet, so wet and thorough, you feel more as if he’s savoring you, as if to consume you whole.

You’re warbling over a gasping breath as soon as he pulls apart on a final suck of your tongue, tracing his own against an increasingly damp grin that stirs arousal, to slick your panties. His knee’s tucking in expert press-release motions against your drenched center, skirting you over the edge of pleasure. Not quite letting you come nor allowing calm to settle into your nerves; he dangles you within unrest. “And because you’d been about stirring mischief. I don’t make a habit of spoiling naughty ones.”

His words, albeit without his earlier rebuke, pluck keen remorse within your chest. “I’m sorry for the trouble I caused you. For not listening.”

He smiles; pleased joy. “You’ve reflected over your mistakes well and that’s good. I’ll forgive you, my little one. They didn’t harm you otherwise, yes?” Lilia’s mouth descends on you once more, relaxing on your denial. Flittering kisses onto your face, you feel his adoration swimming off of him in the fond catch of his lips as he loves all of you. Across your forehead. your lids apiece, cheeks and nose. You quiver within his embrace with an entirely different kind of pleasure; lips pulling apart on breathless laughter, all on their own. Happiness he draws out of you, crinkling Lilia’s gaze in turn; he hums, “One of the dearest sounds to grace our worlds.”

You shake your head, arms reaching to cradle him close, pressing against the circle of his neck. Laying your own kiss against the underside of his jaw. “Love you, need you.”

His smile’s beautiful; he mirrors your words back to you in the soft, cool breaths he tucks against your parted lips. “Our very own briar bloom, I desire you every moment.”

And then, his fingers are dancing across your pelvis, skating a path down the zipper of your skirt, to let it fall slack until you are bare, save for your panties. Another urging warble of his name prompts his lilting laughter, settling as sweet as music into your warmed ears.

Before he, at last, slips a hand down the waistband of your underwear; you feel the pads of mischievous fingers drum against your apex. Pulling gentle at your clit in between index and middle, until he buries your next moan against his smile. “Good girl, good girl, a very good girl,” Lilia chants, his even smile pulling wider to witness your cries pitch high, wide eyes tearing up when he settles a finger at your slit and teases your drenched entrance. Even as you feel yourself loosing further slick onto his fingers.

Lilia tilts a quiet hum into your throat; three nimble fingers pushing inside, all at once, you hear the squelch of your arousal leak and wet the covers beneath. You know he hears it — of course he does — it warms your cheeks enough, you have to squeeze your eyes shut for a moment’s reprieve. “The world’s most beloved music seems centered in your body. Such joy.”

You flush at the compliment, tucking your fingers against his jaw to pull him into a brief kiss. “What an eloquent lover,” you tease gently.

“Such sweet praise you’ve got for me.” Leaning into your palm, his eyes furrow in at the corners in joy. Drifting in close once more, as your mouth falls open for him, fingers streaming down the line of his lithe body, until you press in between his legs. “Mm.” Drawing strokes down the heat of his length, pleasantly firm underneath your fingers. You move to cup him above his slacks, earning a lovely burst of song, for your own.

“You’re precious, beautiful briar.” Lilia croons into the junction of your neck. Needle-thin fangs dragging at sensitive skin with each open-mouthed kiss he tucks there, you shiver underneath. Until they sink into your flesh in a bite and you jolt in his hold.

“Lili—aah.” Your question breaking when he purposely drags a swipe of fingers against your clenching frontal walls.

Lilia laps a quick, soothing tongue against the bite, as if in fickle apology. “Mmhm, you taste delightful. Made the task of healing you such fun.”

“D-did you bite to patch me up or something?” You frown, trying to concentrate through your haze, not recalling any such facts from your lessons in magical history, on the Dark Fey. But perhaps it's your mind that’s mush and without much thought.

“Goodness, no.” He presses a short, stifled laughter into your bite, kissing it farewell before drifting to your breasts. “I didn’t think there existed another soul as credulous as our Sebek.” You scowl, you try your best, squeezing him for good measure, dragging a low moan from him in return.

Lilia chuckles at your expression, smoothing the knot in between your brow with gentle lips. “How aggressive, now. Do you want this in you, sweet one?” Tipping his hips into your hold so you feel the hard, searing line of his erection firm against your grip.

His fingers press deep against your walls, before he pulls back slow in a scissoring draw, the sounds of your arousal incredibly loud within your ears, as if in silent, eager answer.

And when you nod, “So good and brave. But first, you’ll break for me, yes?” Beautiful, dark lashes descending with your assenting cry, warm mouth closing around the puckered bead of your breast, just as the thumb he sweeps against your nub and then, he lilts, “Come now, sweet bloom, fall.” And like clockwork, your orgasm snaps through, swift and merciless, just as his tongue smoothing in against yours to swipe and dampen your moans. Turning you to quivering gasps as if your strings were cut and released, at last.

“Magnificent, truly.” Lilia cradles a cool, dry palm; needed heaven against your hot cheek, your eyes falling shut of their own accord to savor his touch. “Oh ho,” his chiding’s a gentle wave of pleasure; index and middle teasing at the soft flesh of your ear. “The night’s a young thing, still, as you humans say.” Leaning in between the give of your legs, not caring for the slick you smear across him as he nudges his clothed erection against you.

And a whisper full of indecent promise, as it warms the shell of your ear, “We’ve yet to witness the most wonderful of dreams it has to offer, beautiful one.”

[luthienne]

this may be a weird question but you joked that you own legolas in some tags, and as it happens i’m in love with lotr/the legendarium and also adore your blog. which is to say that i’d love to hear some of your thoughts on him, if you’re comfortable sharing?

ahh hi yes i think he’s such an interesting character!! there’s something so fascinating about the wood-elves for me, something so rooted in folklore and myth that compels my imagination. the dark wood inhabited by the deathless. more below cut:

as much as we know that boromir is tempted by the ring because his people are fighting a seemingly pointless battle just to hold back sauron’s forces at the expense of their own people—we can infer that the situation for legolas is exactly the same. the forces of dol guldur are held back by the wood-elves and no one else. thranduil has no ring of power to protect his people, has no other armies at his back, no aid from the other elven realms.

so, contrary the commentary/characterization of the films, i don’t think legolas would be confused at gandalf’s death just bc he’s “immortal and thus doesn’t understand the concept of death.” he’s the prince of the only elven kingdom without a ring of power for protection, the prince of a wood called taur-e-ndaedelos, the forest of great fear. he’s personally witnessed the transition of his home from greenwood the great to mirkwood. he personally witnessed the occupation of his home by the stronghold of the necromancer, dol guldur, and the darkness that followed. the descendants of ungoliant. the dark creatures and the death.

whenever i witness legolas’s consistently gentle characterization throughout lotr, i’m actually reminded of that ilya kaminsky quote:

“Is it foolish to speak of little joys that occur in the middle of tragedy? It is our humanity. Whatever we have left of it. We must not deny it to ourselves.”

[ from Still Dancing: An Interview With Ilya Kaminsky by Garth Greenwell ]

this is a consistent theme for tolkien through lotr. 

“the world is indeed full of peril, and in it there are many dark places, but still there is much that is fair, and though in all lands love is now mingled with grief, it grows perhaps the greater.”

—the two towers, “lothlórien”

“there, peeping among the cloud-wrack above a dark tor high up in the mountains, sam saw a white star twinkle for awhile. the beauty of it smote his heart, as he looked up out of the forsaken land, and hope returned to him. for like a shaft, clear and cold, the thought pierced him that in the end the shadow was only a small and passing thing: there was light and high beauty for ever beyond its reach.” 

—rotk, the land of shadow

Théoden's final words are to Merry on the battlefield on the Fields of Pelennor: "Live now in blessedness; and when you sit in peace with your pipe, think of me! For never now shall I sit with you in Meduseld, as I promised, or listen to your herb-lore." It is a heart-breaking moment, and for a while Merry believes he  can never again enjoy his pipe because it will remind him of losing his friend, but Aragorn convinces him otherwise: "Smoke, then, and think of him!" said Aragorn. "For he was a gentle heart and a great king and kept his oaths; and he rose out of the shadows to a last fair morning. Though your service to him was brief, it should be a memory glad and honourable to the end of your days." (x)

bc legolas does seem to exemplify that throughout the lotr books. he is chosen not for great deeds (glorfindel would be the obvious choice there) but more it seems bc of the lightness of demeanor he has maintained despite despite despite. not to say that he is not capable of great deeds! we know he is a formidable archer (he slew one of the fell beasts of the nazgûl in the dark) and skilled at hand-to-hand combat with his silver-hafted knife (a weapon and skill set necessary in a dense, dark wood with no room to draw or maneuver swords like andúril/glamdring). and this is not to say that deadliness in combat is the only mark of great deeds! tolkien makes it so very clear that great deeds are not defined by glory or battle but by strength of heart. <3 

i love that moment in fotr when legolas teases gandalf and the fellowship, says that he goes to find the sun, the innocence with which he reacts to the ents and the huorns in two towers, the way he is always singing, the way he learns to not only accept gimli but grows to love him so much that he brings gimli to the undying lands. this is the son of a sindarin king who likely witnessed the sacking of doriath. it would certainly explain why thranduil is characterized as having not only a mistrust but dislike of dwarves in the hobbit.

meanwhile, we know absolutely nothing of legolas’s mother! tolkien says that oropher adopted the customs of the silvan elves when he was made their king. it’s possible that thranduil married a silvan elf. it would make sense from a political standpoint. legolas refers to himself as a wood-elf, which could lend itself to that theory. either way, interesting!

now tolkien’s description of the wood-elves:

The feasting people were Wood-elves, of course. These are not wicked folk. If they have a fault it is distrust of strangers. Though their magic was strong, even in those days they were wary. They differed from the High Elves of the West, and were more dangerous and less wise. 

we’re told that elven magic is not like wizard magic but rather more earthy, more natural, a part of the fabric of their beings, of the realms they inhabit. i could speculate on what i think the magic of the wood-elves is, but idk i think tolkien had it right in keeping it enigmatic. the idea of an elvenking hidden deep in the dark woods is the stuff of myth, of songs. an elf-king with the power to transport you before him, an elf-king with the power to either alter your perception of reality or to truly transport his own people to safety at the hint of a threat, to extinguish light, with the ability to singlehandedly and without a ring of power keep the forces of dol guldur at bay.

it’s impossible for me to think about legolas and not think about his father and his grandfather, to not think about the life he must have lived leading up to the forming of the fellowship.

Seven mounds upon the left, and nine upon the right," said Aragorn. "Many long lives of men it is since the golden hall was built."

"Five hundred times have the red leaves fallen in Mirkwood in my home since then," said Legolas, "and but a little while does that seem to us."

— the two towers, "the white rider"

legolas, the prince of a hidden, fighting, wary people. a people who must take any chance they can to celebrate and find joy in still being alive, in still being together. a people with no magic outside of their own to protect them, a people who coexist with death, who inhabit an oppressive darkness forced upon them.

and still we see that legolas is not worn down by the years of darkness, that he is characterized not by bitterness or despair but by a kind of gentle resilience and strength of heart, motivated by loyalty and love of his friends. he is the son of the elvenking. he owes no allegiance to aragorn, a mortal king; nothing to gimli, or to the hobbits. but he sees minas tirith and he talks about how he will help aragorn to rebuild, to bring birdsong and green, growing things. he marches to the doorstep of mordor for the love of his friends and middle-earth. he lingers in middle-earth even after he is struck by sea-longing. and when he finally leaves middle-earth, it is only after the penultimate member of the fellowship has passed away and just he and gimli remain. and then he takes gimli with him when he sails to the undying lands. how could i not love a character with that kind of deep loyalty, deep love, deep feeling?

[danddymaro]

Belonging To Me | Kars x Reader

Reader insert // Your name // (Y/n) | Word Count :   1415

What can I say; I love possessive Kars. Big Beefy Boi Smuttyness.

Kars Falls for a Normal Woman.

Thoughts are italics in quotations = ‘Example’

Flashbacks are in italics = Example

Belonging to me

"- Your pitiful human body," he spoke lowly, "It belongs to me," he told her, with one swift motion claiming her.

Her outcry was loud as he invaded her warmth with his large, hardened length, the calm of the night interrupted by the bawl.

Knowing the fragility of humans he was merciful, having waited until she calmed, barely adjusted to his size before he even took a breath, "You're stretched to your limit," he said knowingly, his voice low and thick, " - filled with an all mighty being," he went on, slowly pulling out from the tight warmth of her womanhood.

The thick head of his cock lay dipped into her as she lay motionless, save for the little vibrations of her body as she trembled beneath him. She’d quieted, the loud sob that she’d emitted rawed her throat, leaving her without more say.

His people had far long evolved past the need for breeding. It wasn't necessary, and such desires had long left him.

That was until of course, he encountered her.

The (h/c) haired young woman had unknowingly cemented the route of her fate with just a single eye bat. It took a just single look from her (e/c) colored eyes for him to feel a hook dig itself in through his chest, the line of her hook tangling over his bloody muscle before it punctured it and she reeled him in, leaving him in desperate search of her.

"- How dare you..." he said lowly, falling back in, reaching down to hold her close and press her to him as best he could, "How dare such a small, weak being make me yearn?" He muttered with dismay.

‘How dare such softness cause me to shutter?’ He added silently.

It was as though he'd stepped down from the finest peak, all to crawl down into a dingy, filthy hole,

‘ climbing down from Apex to graze with the hunted, weak prey...’

'I'm much more than this…' he thought to himself while mindlessly, his nails dug into her flesh, receiving a low hiss from her.

With a click of his teeth, he then let his grip lighten as he saw the pained look painted onto her face, the horned male growing concerned over how much strength he’d used, something that would have never crossed his mind before, because no being so frail should have had the prosperity to be in her position.

He despised the gingerness he acted upon because it spoke volumes of an existing feeling beyond lust,

‘If it were lust,’ He started, ‘Then I would have torn through her simply. I could have disposed of her easily after I made use of her,’ He added.

"I'm to be the ultimate being," he lamented as he felt scathed at the notion of being left panting and weak, and by a human nonetheless.

A weak, non-warrior human.

- It was his first.

It'd been the only craving he'd had, and he didn't want to give in to it, all to serve his pride.

However, all the same, he was unwilling to let her slip past him, and as much as it pained him, he needed her.

He shivered and shook, feeling smaller and smaller as he went on, weakened more as the higher her voice rang, indelicate whines filling his ears as in the background, the vulgar sounds of moist skin repeatedly clashing echoed within the thick walls of the darkroom.

She'd far long gone past the pain, instead indulged by the godlike creature repeatedly thrusting into her while holding her selfishly and ruining her for any other man.

He knew that once she savored him, she'd be spellbound to him, knowing nothing else but him, and by then she’d be just as possessed by him as he was her.

‘You will be mine by every right,’ He swore.

“And now, the final ritual,” He breathed lowly while two sharp peaks tugged at her neck, nibbling at the flesh with small nips that were playful and sweet as his scathing breath fanned over her, spreading the generous heat of his being with her like a large, smothering blanket.

‘Know that no harm will come to you from my fangs,’ He thought while continuing the action, letting her understand his bite came from a different hunger.

"-Tell me pet," he started, morphing the rougher show of affection into a completely sweet and gentle one as he lay kisses over her instead, gracing her with his most gentle form of affection,

"What is your name?" He asked her, "What should I call you? He asked while quickly finding the spot that pulsed rapidly, his lips discovering the scarlet mine of her throat where beneath the (s/c) flesh laid her tender veins.

Shivering, she responded, her name just barely escaping her lips with every bit of mustered will she had,

"(F/n)" she revealed to him, soon stretching her neck out to him, reacting upon pure instinct as she presented her most vulnerable spot to him.

An act of loyalty and servitude, as well as trust and dedication to the beautiful man above her, was proceeded as second nature.

It was only for a split second that she caught onto her own actions, 'W-what am I doing?!' She wondered with mortification, gaining back her better senses that reminded her that he was a sort of monster.

However, she'd regretted her actions far too late as he had already begun to run his tongue along the trail of the hidden springy lines, his mouth opened wide to take in all of her in which he could.

Tensing, she sucked in a heavy breath as she felt his sharp ends break through the skin, a flow of warm red coaxing his lapping tongue soon after,

"Kars," He muttered while cleaning the spot diligently, "I am Kars." He told her, all while continuing to mark her, making sure the spot was obnoxious and large, the male releasing a low, throaty groan at the warm, savory taste that coaxed his wet muscle.

'Again and Again, I will mark you until it's tattooed onto your delicate flesh ; my possession of you known to even the most bovine fool!' He declared with certainty.

Again she reacted, his name rolling out of her mouth with eagerness as soon as she heard it,

"Kars.." She purred, thrusting up to meet his deep dives, the stars from outside the twinkling night somehow finding their way into her closed eyes. She could see them all whilst she shut her eyes, moreso as she reached a high she’d previously thought to have been unimaginable.

Somewhere in the back of her mind she protested, and she knew the resistance existed, but in her present state she was nothing but a creature starved for carnal pleasure.

'I want him.'

No...

I need him!' She thought to herself, clinging to him with desperation, unashamed by the indecent sounds which escaped her during her delight.

The wild silken curtain of his plum-colored waves canopied over her, surrounding her with a sweet scent she couldn't place, but loved.

She adored it, finding it to be divine and indescribable, whereas she never would have had the fortune of taking it in had he not existed.

'The smell of power,' She mused, her palms selfishly exploring the chiseled form of his perfect body which was nothing but hard, strong muscle meant to overpower and take claim.

' Of protection and safety,' She went on, truly believing that there wasn't an existing being greater than he.

Just as he seemed powerful enough to destroy and cause chaos, the capability to defend with the same viciousness was also there. So she was convinced anything he thought of as his was safe in his grasp, touched by no one else.

'I'm unashamed,' She thought with surprise, having never felt so free.

'I feel that somehow... I shouldn't be. I shouldn't be afraid to accept this feeling.' she mused while her hands went up to touch his beautiful face,

��Is this really real?’ She wondered with her heart suddenly tightening at the idea that perhaps she’d wake up and live through the same dull days of her life, forced to let go of the wonderful joy she felt.

"Kars..."

Again His name fell past her, reaching him and striking him with raking shutters as he too fell into acceptance, unable to draw back into an existence without his woman.

“My (f/n)” He said with the same consuming relish she experienced.

[ifyouwaltzwiththewildthings]

Fletcher believes they've seen this one around before, swimming with his head just above water, watching. Searching for something... Not just food or pray. Something deeper, something in the heart. There's an emptiness in his eyes. The sad beauty of it tempts Fletcher to fly down closer, within his reach... But they're not that naïve.

They're aware of the unfortunate circumstances of mermen, having observed the merfolk as well as all the other creatures Neverland holds for as long as they can remember. Marlowe's skin is thin and pale, his bones are on show... Fletcher cannot blame him for his vicious nature. Their empathy is simply too strong for that. So...

" For you, such a wonderful sight... If you request of me something within my capabilities, I will be happy to make most anything, " they say sweetly, a warm smile on their face as they extend their arm and draw it slowly to the side - a light chime sounds as glittering dust slowly flutters down from their hand, eventually reaching Marlowe below. Fletcher's dust is known to have invigorating properties, to provoke a feeling of inspiration and drive, yet the energy is calm. " After all, using my skill for the benefit of others brings me utmost joy. "

@ifyouwaltzwiththewildthings :: continued from HERE !

falling back into the water, a chuckle bubbled around him. he had felt nothing but hunger for days, a cavernous feeling in the stomach that he’d become familiar with years ago. being a merman was not fair. he was slow and spindly and weak in all the wrong places. by the time he’d targeted a meal, one of his sisters would have her fangs bared into it whilst eyes mocked him with amusement. still, fear could be just as satisfying as skin or blood or bone. to marlowe, at least, the satisfaction that came with striking fear in the heart of something was enough to satisfy and distract from all else that ailed him.

he rose from beneath the lagoon once more, eyeing the smallfolk curiously as they tittered on about this-and-that. he found the miniature creatures entertaining, like little bugs he could collect. some were better-liked than others, the ones that had things to offer. carrion sold him secrets. holly fed him puppets. thorn was his dear friend pet. this one though, sweet fletcher, was a crafty thing. he’d come to observe that what strength they lacked in size was made up for by the ideas overflowing in their head.     “ i suppose that will have to do, since you so selfishly wish to keep your own all to yourself. “,     marlowe grumbled, only half joking.

“ and then what ? what else will you make me ? “     greedy. enough would never be enough. after all, a monster so divine was deserving of endless gifts just as beautiful. material things, presents and prizes, made up for the emptiness within him. the more he had, the less his fellow mer did, and the better he felt.

[dialovers-translations]

Diabolik Lovers DARK FATE ー Ayato Ecstasy [10]

ー The scene starts in an unknown place

Karlheinz: ...Exactly, Ayato...No...

Adam. Perhaps that is how I should call you now.

Ayato: ...?

Karlheinz: Adam and Eve...Thanks to you two, my plan can finally...

The ‘Apple of Eden Project’ can finally come to fruition.

Yui: ( Adam and...Eve...? The Apple of...Eden...? )

Karlheinz: Actually...I was originally supposed to become Adam. However, that did not happen.

Yui: W-What exactly are you scheming...?

Karlheinz: Fufu. Eve, I suppose I have no other choice but to answer your question...

ーー What do you believe makes for a beautiful world?

Yui: ...A beautiful world...?

Karlheinz: Exactly. A beautiful world.

Demons and humans...Do you believe our current world where those two species coexist can be considered beautiful?

Yui: Well...

Selection

→ I don’t

Yui: ...I don’t.

Karlheinz: Fufu, I expected no less from you, Eve. However, why do you feel that way?

→ I do (♡)

Yui: I do. This world is beautiful.

Karlheinz: ...Oh? You claim that a world where people of the same species are fighting and slaughtering each other, is beautiful?

Yui: T-That’s...

Karlheinz: I suppose it was somewhat of a difficult question. Let me rephrase it then.

Are you aware that the ancestors of us Vampires were originally born human?

Yui: ...!

Karlheinz: Vampires lost their ability to feel (1), and in turn were gifted with magical powers, making them immortal.

They are different from humans, ignorant to death...

If you were to ask me, they are highly bothersome creatures which prevent this world from changing.

In that regard, humans are superior. Not only is their lifespan already limited as is, but they will further aid this process by engaging in foolish slaughtering.

I have personally observed them for a long, very long time...

And then, I began to harbor a certain wish.

That is...

The birth of a new species, which is neither human nor demonic.

Ayato: A new...species...?

Karlheinz: Yes, exactly.

For that reason, I spent day and night conducting research at the pharmaceutical department...

And then I finally found my answer. 

A demon who can experience human emotions, and a woman with Founder’s blood which has been infected with the Vampire virus...

ーー Through Adam and Eve, I could fulfill my wish!

In other words, a fusion between a human and a demon.

Through this process, a new species will be brought forth.

Yui: No way...

( ...He’s capable of doing even such a thing...? )

Carla: Karlheinz...What exactly do you want, that you are willing to go to such extremes?

Do you wish for hegemony in the Demon World at the hands of this new species, or a form of rebellion against us Founders!?

Karlheinz: I hold no interest in such things.

Carla: Excuse me...?

Karlheinz: ーー This new species would not be immortal as we are.

While they inherited magic from demons, they are mortal like humans...

An existence which allows the world a beautiful, natural development...

I suppose they will be saviors to the world.

That is the only thing I wish for.

Ayato: ...Tsk.

Yui: ( Isn’t Karlheinz-san just trying to make the world his though...? )

( For the sake of this world, he is willing to sacrifice everything and everyone...including himself... )

( ...B-But... )

Ayato: Saviors, you said?

I don’t even want to know how ‘formidable’ that shit is...

But you better not believe I’m gonna let myself be sacrificed for the sake of your plan!

Karlheinz: ...How foolish...

Ayato: Shut up! I don’t understand this ‘world’ you speak of!

Just...The one thing I do understand...

Is that I want to protect the precious people who are right in front of my eyes!!

Yui: ( Ayato-kun... )

Exactly...! Besides, there is no way your plan will go smoothly.

Karlheinz: Hooh? And why is that?

Yui: After all...I don’t possess this Vampire virus you speak of!

Karlheinz: ...Fufu...

Is that so? You are without a doubt Eve, however. No, it could be nobody else but you.

Think deeply and try to remember...The time I personally went to see you...

Yui: ( ...Karlheinz-san came to me? That’s... )

ー A flashback ensues

Yui: (Eh…? )

( Where…am I? )

???: Hello there…And so we meet again.

Yui: You are…

???: I’ve casted a nifty little spell on you.

If this does not succeed, rewinding time will have been for nothing.

Yui: …?

ー The flashback ends

Yui: ...!

Karlheinz: Seems like you recalled.

Ayato: ...Che.

Karlheinz: As Adam sucks Eve’s blood...Step by step, he will learn human emotions from her.

Struggle, pain, but also peace...All sentiments he would have never experienced as a regular demon.

However, to a Vampire, feeling human sentiments requires the rejection of one’s own nature.

Pain and suffering...go hand-in-hand.

However, Adam continues to yearn for Eve’s blood regardless, and continues to change as a result...

That is what we would consider ‘love’. ーー Although some might call it ‘matters of convenience’ as well.

Ayato...You have changed quite a bit as well.

The fact you have come here to me is perfect proof of that, no?

Ayato: ...!

The fuck...? What do you mean!? 

That means this whole time, we were only actin’ to further help your plans succeed, weren’t we!?

Karlheinz: Why of course. There were many failed attempts along the way, but you finally reached me here.

Come on...If you kill me, everything will end.

No, it will begin. They say that death is the start of a celebration, do they not? Therefore...

ーー Kill me, Adam.

Monologue

Calmly opening his arms,

Karlheinz-san smiled.

He did not show a single hint of fear or disgust towards death.

Instead, there was genuine joy (純粋な歓喜).

This person wishes for death as if it is no big deal.

Everything has been for that sake.

How could one wish for a new world (新しい世界) so strongly,

they are even willing to sacrifice themselvesーー

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

Translation notes

(1) 心 or ‘kokoro’ can mean ‘heart’, ‘spirit’, ‘soul’ or even ‘mind’. In this case, I believe it refers to being able to experience (human) emotions/sentiments.

→  LIKE MY TRANSLATIONS? SUPPORT ME ON KO-FI!

<- [ Ecstasy 09 ] [ Ecstasy Epilogue ] ->

[mybabygirlelsa]

So I was watching Frozen II the other day and the whole confusion about the voice visited again. Like, who's calling Elsa? Is it Ahtohallan? Her mom? Her own self? Jennifer Lee (I think) said that the voice belongs to Iduna, but that doesn't sit well with me. And then I remembered that I've written my own theory about it, which why not share it with you? 😂

It's probably very inaccurate based on the things we know, but it was really fun to write!

Hope you enjoy!

(A/N: italics are extracts of the book "Frozen II: The Junior Novel")

The Fifth Spirit

Very long ago, in a time no man can recall, humans weren't the dominant species on Earth. There were no rules, yet neither freewill.

Or so it was thought.

People lived under nature's laws -they interacted with it, respected it greatly but mostly feared it. Prophecies about nature's rage were foolishly believed and seriously taken into account.

But it wasn't nature they truly feared -it was its magic.

Humans never succeeded to understand magic -it was considered unreachable. Only a small group of people that repeatedly refused to take part in the "vision of civilization" decided to co- exist with the magical elements and spirits of nature. These people were the first human inhabitants of the Enchanted Forest and the ancestors of the future indigenous Northuldra.

As time went on, people grew more and more arrogant, thought they were capable of everything and gradually stopped believing in nature's power. They began sacrificing and falsely taking advantage of nature's goods. Seeing their audacity getting out of hand, the spirits of air, fire, water and earth sought help from Ahtohallan, the mythical river said to hold all the answers.

The then- small glacier, foreseeing the consequences of people's hauteur, sacrificed a part of herself and sculpted a female figure, with hair and skin as white and pale as freshly fallen snow and eyes as blue as shining ice. With her ancient magic, the glacier gave life to the woman, who was none other than the Fifth Spirit.

According to scanty myths, the woman had achieved great and extraordinary accomplishments in her previous life and the magical river had collected and kept her soul to be used for greater things when the right time would arrive. However, those speculations never came to be confirmed.

Nonetheless, why she was there and why she was chosen, that she never came to know. And a part of her wondered if she ever would.

People's conceit kept growing in an astonishingly fast pace while the Fifth Spirit was given a duty -to connect humans and the magic of nature, as well as protect the only home she would ever know in her existence; the Enchanted Forest.

Apart from her duty, she was also given a power no human had known and no spirit had possessed -the ability to create ice and snow, to control and bring winter. After connecting with the other elements, she was also gifted and given powers to represent all four spirits, such as wings, the ability to strike lightning and control the water, as well as the power to cause earthquakes.

The Fifth Spirit was sent to humans after fully mastering her powers and understanding her purpose. Under the guidance of the unseen deity, people began having faith in nature and underlying yet great respect.

However, this was not an easy task to achieve. It took her almost a hundred years to restore people's faith and trust -but she successfully accomplished it.

Each passing day her power grew significantly, and so did her fondness for her creator. To show her gratitude, she used her unprecedented power and expanded the length and height of her beloved glacier, making Ahtohallan an extension of her powers and mostly, herself.

To honour her child, Ahtohallan assigned to her a new task; she had to visit a chosen woman's dream and recite a poem that would soon be heard from every young Northuldra mother's lips -the lullaby of Ahtohallan. The old glacier also gifted her with a beautiful staff that could summon power and turn into a crystal necklace when unneeded.

Having already mentioned the lullaby, it's important to subjoin the meaning behind a specific lyric -"dive down deep into her sound, but not too far or you'll be drowned". The youthful spirit created a sheer drop that ended to an ice sheet to keep there the utmost truth, for only the most selfless souls would be fearless enough to ignore the warning, as well as brave enough to dive into the abyss. That, if anyone would ever manage to reach the frozen river. For the mighty Water Nokk -who shared a very special bond with the Fifth Spirit- guarded her secrets.

For the very start of her existence -as well as in the meantime of her mission to restore people's faith-, the Fifth Spirit would travel across the Earth to bring winter and joy to the children. She was the very first winter spirit  -Jack Frost made his appearance a lot later. Legend has it that she was the Snow Queen the Danish author, Hans Christian Andersen, spoke about in his fairytale. However, unseen as she was, this theory had never had a requisite basis and was never further explained.

As time went on, the forlorn deity was assigned tasks that aimed for specific, chosen people freeing their potential, resulting their lifework to be considered admirable, and almost magical. All spirits had agreed there were and there would be humans that deserved to be known for their own "magic". The Fifth Spirit helped people accomplish dreams and bring visions to life, as she was the only spirit that had the power to transform, painlessly get into one's head to guide and/or give advice and take a human form of any needed age as well as gender when one's achievement was considered of great difficulty. She even had the power to seek a specific ability she didn't possess -which would later on be declared hers- so her efforts could be crowned with success. 

She could do anything. There was only one thing she was unable to do; feel.

She was emotionless.

Even her fondness for her mother was taken away after the second century passed. It was thought that if she was given the ability to feel, she would show mercy and compassion and her unlimited patience would spare.

So forsaken she remained. Nameless and isolated, unseen and walked through by people, having to serve her cause on her own, merely meeting with the other spirits on specific occasions.

One of them was on the first day of spring every five years, when everything was blooming, blossoming and growing. A great part of the Enchanted Forest was her deed -she expanded its length and grew more trees, more grass, bloomed more flowers, added more bushes, a small river -where the Earth Giants would be sleeping in the future- that floated into a waterfall which ended at a sheer drop, a pit full of black rocks later known as the Lost Caverns. Because of this, the spirits gave her the appellation "The Reincarnation of Mother Nature" -the only name she was ever given.

For most of her existence -as long as she was waiting  for her next task to be handed-, she lived close to her glacier. Away from any kind of life, on her own, in her Ice Palace of memories. She spent so many years close to it, that her fondness returned and she wanted to praise her treasured river.

So she gifted her her voice.

Her act was pure and sincere and played a significant role in the Enchanted Forest's and spirit's future. The iconic and quintessential call would later on be heard, and then, much later, known worldwide as one of the most famous melodies of the Gregorian Chant -the "Dies Irae".

During one of her missions, on the fjord south of the Enchanted Forest, while she was making sure the protector of people, the famous warrior of old, Aren, had achieved his life-changing goal, something changed. Aren was a little bit like her, a protector who served people as his cause. She was protecting the Forest and was serving both nature and humans. Yet a big difference grew the gap between them; he was loved and surrounded by people.

He was feeling.

She wasn't.

Occasionally, she would roam the night skies to witness a life she had never known, to witness how people felt.

And remind herself how she couldn't.

She had been told to distance herself from sunlight, as if she was a single snowflake that would melt when she met with sun's light. She had been told humans were weak, mischievous and unpredictable creatures. She had been told she was greater and superior. Yet she caught herself longing to spend a day warm in the sun, longing to see people dancing...

Longing to feel.

And so she did. Painfully, her as cold and hard as ice heart melted and its first beats sounded like heavy raindrops hitting the dry soil loudly.

She had never felt so alive. She had never... felt.

However, her accidental action required a cost to be paid.

The same, previously mentioned scanty myths, referred to another woman's soul, which had been collected and kept by Ahtohallan. She was certain she would be the one given the great purpose and when she wasn't, her soul never reached the heavens as she swore revenge on the young soul of the Fifth Spirit. Hiding her true intentions, in Ahtohallan's chambers she remained, nurturing the young spirit like mother Ahtohallan did.

Once she learned the youthful deity had broken the laws she had been restrained from ignoring, the resentful soul brought her bitter foe to the Enchanted Forest, secretly from Ahtohallan, and for the first time in forever, she allowed her to feel.

While she burned her.

The Fifth Spirit was set on fire and was obliged to feel her skin melting, like snow on a bright, sunny day. It was unimaginably painful. Her haunting call, that was later on used by a young Northuldra girl, tore the sky apart and meant only one thing;

"Help me".

If it wasn't for Ahtohallan's and Water Nokk's intervention, the Fifth Spirit would have vanished. The evil soul was banished to the Lost Caverns, a place with no way out, where one would be at their lowest emotional point from that day forward. However, before she was sent away, the hateful soul put a curse on the traumatized spirit -when she failed to serve her cause, she would be burned. If the mistreating soul still existed, that no one ever confirmed.

After her adored water horse healed her with the water's curative properties, the Fifth Spirit swore not to feel again, and accepted the prohibition of getting any near the land where the future kingdom of Arendelle would come to be.

Thousands of years passed and the unseen spirit's heart had gotten colder than ice, preventing her from repeating her mistake. Ahtohallan and the other spirits mourned for her, for she was not who she had once been, and made great efforts to change the past's design, intentionally forgetting what had been done was unchangeable.

Despite her change -and most likely because of it-, the Fifth Spirit had dedicated most of her attention to her precious forest. Seeing this, Ahtohallan assigned her the task of looking after a young Northuldra girl, so the deity could be surrounded by her forest.

The Fifth Spirit and the young Northuldra were somehow connected. Iduna, the young Northuldra, would occasionally hear the eerie melody of the spirit, since the deity would "sing to those who hear". The girl would also be seen playing around with Gale, the feisty Wind Spirit. Iduna was connected with nature in an unexplainable way -she was different and destined for great things; she was chosen.

One day, ships arrived at the entrance to the fjord south of the Enchanted Forest -wooden ships full of people who were determined to create a home for themselves near the water. Soon, the kingdom of Arendelle came to be and the Fifth Spirit knew what that meant.

The newcomers were welcomed by the Northuldra's ruler when he met with their king on a cliff as the sun set. The leaders firmly shook hands at this meeting, which was seen by others only in hazy silhouette. Yet the deity saw everything clearly.

To demonstrate their goodwill and friendship, the Arendellians built a mighty dam in the Enchanted Forest. They placed it on the river that flowed into the Arenfjord, the deep blue body of water upon which Arendelle Castle had been built. The dam connected all the lands and made it easier for the Northuldra and their reindeer to roam. King Runeard, the leader of Arendelle, offered it to the Northuldra as a symbol of peace and cooperation between the two groups. But the powerful spirit could see past his facade.

When the dam was complete, the Arendellians threw a great celebration. Northuldra from all over the land gathered at the base of the dam to mingle and feast with the Arendellians. The Fifth Spirit tried to warn the indigenous tribe about the trickery behind the kindness for months but no one listened -they were all busy welcoming and celebrating with the frenemies.

The poor spirit could see how it would all end and attempted to warn young Iduna. But it was too late -the battle had already begun.

Arendelle had turned out to be harmful once again. And as the lush beauty of her beloved forest was being destroyed, as the chaos continued beneath her, she cried, with her plangent call shaking the trees and crumbling the ground.

Her cry echoed as another voice synchronized with it -a pleading for help. Her eyes spotted Iduna holding a young boy in her embrace, as the girl called for help in agony. The Fifth Spirit, overcome with grief of centuries, wailed her eerie melody, mourning for her forest.

As well as for herself.

Her end was near and she was about to meet her tragic fate. She had failed to protect the Forest. She had failed to serve her cause -and the curse continued.

The Wind Spirit heard her call and took the children to safe ground. But it was the only one who listened.

Overcome with rage, the Fifth Spirit cried sorrowfully one last time before a mist, as thick and impenetrable as stone, enveloped the forest, as a promise she would forever guard it from foreigners. Then she disappeared, since people had stopped listening.

However, this was not her end. The Wind Spirit carried the remaining bits of her body to the devastated glacier that grieved over her lost daughter for days, in the meantime causing great parts of herself to collapse. The Water Spirit, overwhelmed with pain as well, told the river about the girl the Fifth Spirit was assigned to look after. Ahtohallan understood the importance of the young Northuldra's deed and finally let the soul of the deity find its new body, knowing she would not return the same.

The Fifth Spirit's soul travelled across the skies and on the Northern Lights above Arendelle it remained, looking after young Iduna, for she was destined to carry in her womb the reincarnation of the lost spirit.

And so, the spirits waited -waited for the Fifth Spirit to be reborn and return to where she belonged.

They waited for her to rise again.

[sassyhobbits]

"You look even more beautiful covered in snow."

For rowaelin (post-canon)

oooh a post-canon fic! i think this is the first time ive written anything like it! this is short but sweet, and i hope everyone enjoys

~~~

There were few sights that Aelin Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius, queen of Terrasen, enjoyed more than her homelands covered in a fresh blanket of white snow.

The winters in Terrasen had a reputation of becoming brutal with their terrible blizzards and snowstorms. Though, when the sky wasn’t saturated with fat, gray clouds, it was beautiful. Like today.

The snow shone like thousands of diamonds under the brilliant sunlight, nearly blinding. It was perfect, like a painting or a dream… but no. It was real, and this was Aelin’s home.

It had been three years since the defeat of Erawan, three years of peace and rebuilding. Three years as queen. And three years with her friends, family, and the people she loved.

Aelin sometimes couldn’t believe that they had succeeded. Against all odds, they had triumphed. The people of Terrasen were happy, building up their lives and their kingdom once more, helping Terrasen become as strong as it had once been.

Yulemas was only a few days away, and Orynth was filled to the brim with guests. Aelin loved seeing her home so warm and full, people happy and celebrating freely. No fear, no oppression. Just joy.

Aedion and Lysandra had come to the palace for the holiday, as did Elide and Lorcan, leaving behind their duties as Lord and Lady for a short while to celebrate. Darrow had brought young Evangeline, who grew more beautiful with each passing day, to Orynth as well.

It was perfect. Aelin couldn’t have been happier.

They took advantage of the beautiful, but brisk, day, taking a walk around the grounds. Evangeline was running through the snow with Fleetfoot, her blonde-red hair like a beacon against the white snow, her laughter like a bell in the air. Lysandra was holding her son, who was nearly a year old now, against her hip, walking side by side with Aedion. Lorcan was being a fussy bastard, hovering over Elide who was a few months pregnant, but completely capable of walking on her own. Aelin glanced over her shoulder and laughed quietly to herself as Elide snapped at her husband once more.

“I hope you’re not going to be that ridiculous when I’m with child,” Aelin murmured to Rowan, holding her husband's arm as they strolled across the snowy ground.

Rowan pressed his lips together tightly, an answer within itself. “I shall not make promises I cannot keep, Fireheart.”

Aelin pinched his side playfully, making Rowan hiss his displeasure. He leaned in close and nipped at the shell of her pointed ear. The shiver that raced down her spine had nothing to do with the cold air.

“Must you do that here? There are children!” Aedion griped, pointing to his son who was more interested in sticking his hand in his mouth than anything else.

Aelin rolled her eyes at her cousin as they came upon a large, frozen lake. The whole party slowed to a stop to admire the view. It was expansive, but lovely. A stunning view.

Aelin rested her head on Rowan’s shoulder. “Hm. You know what this reminds me of?”

“What?”

“That time you tried to feed me to that creature in the lake under the mountain.”

There was a beat of silence as everyone absorbed what she had uttered. Oh, Aelin had been saving that little story for years. She delighted in sprinkling tales of the wild things she had endured into conversations here and there, keeping everyone on their toes. She had no shortage of melodrama.

“You did what, Whitethorn?” Lorcan asked incredulously.

“That’s a gross oversimplification-”

“He froze over a lake,” Aelin said loudly over her husband, “chained the kitchen boy to the middle, and sent me, who had no control of my magic, into the middle of it. Somehow, my dear husband was unaware of the giant serpent that lived in the lake. Which promptly tried to swallow me whole.”

The small crowd simply blinked at the king consort, who had no defence against what she had just said.

“A serpent?!” Lysandra cried.

“How could you not know-?” Elide asked.

Aedion shook his head in disbelief. “You almost killed my cousin for a training exercise?”

Aelin almost felt sorry for her husband as he was interrogated by all of their friends. Her quiet laugh was drowned out by their shouting, letting go of Rowan’s arm and slipping away into the treeline. Her absence wasn’t even noticed amidst the arguing.

Aelin took a moment to enjoy the peace and solace she found within the Oakwald. Walking into the ancient forest always felt as though she was coming home. Her keen eyes noted the tiny footprints in the soft snow, following them to a few scraggly bushes and finding the Little Folk peering at her. She smiled and waved hello.

The young queen lost track of time as she wandered between the towering pines, tracing her fingers over frosty trunks and relishing in the cold bite of the wind against her cheeks. It was truly a gift that she was able to take this time to herself, to wander and let herself go, without feeling as though she was failing someone. She had brought peace to her continent. There was no war to fight, no evil to defeat. It had brought freedom to her people.

It had brought freedom to herself too.

Aelin paused, sensing something but not being able to pinpoint exactly what it was until it was too late. She glanced upwards just in time to see a familiar white-tailed hawk disturb a branch heavy with snow, causing a heavy sheet of it to fall right on top of her head.

Aelin gasped at the shock of cold, at the bits of snow that slipped down the back of her fur-lined gown.

“Rowan!”

The hawk’s cry sounded suspiciously like a laugh before it swooped down and, with a flash of white light, shifted.

“You deserved that,” Rowan said simply, planting herself before her.

Aelin glared. “It took my ladies an hour to do my hair this morning… it looked so beautiful.”

Rowan brushed a few flakes from Aelin’s golden hair before his palm cradled her cheek. “You look even more beautiful covered in snow.”

A roll of the eyes. “You’re a terrible sap, Buzzard. You’re lucky I love you.”

Rowan chuckled lowly, the sound leading to a warm happiness spreading through Aelin’s chest. She savored every laugh she heard from her normally stoic husband. He leaned forward and kissed her softly.

“I love you too, Aelin.”

They savored a few more slow, soft kisses in the privacy of the Oakwald, wrapped up entirely in one another. Yet, Rowan eventually pulled back, raising a silver brow at her. “Now, I do expect you to go back and fully explain what happened to our court so they don’t maim me.”

Aelin’s smile was nothing short of feral. “Never.”

[sevlgi]

the special one

requested: yes

group: mamamoo

pairing: moonbyul x fem!reader

genre: fluff, angst

contents: vampire!moonbyul, bartender!reader

warnings: blood, weapons, vampires

synopsis: Moonbyul was always used to getting her way. So encountering an entire bar warned against her powers, and led by a surprisingly feisty human, wasn’t exactly on her bucket list.

a/n: lowkey wanted to wait for byul’s birthday to post this but i couldn’t wait :D enjoy!!

word count: 3.3k

As soon as she stepped into the bar, Byulyi could smell the thing she had been craving for the past month. Well, two things: blood, and some good alcohol.

She paid no mind to the hands grabbing at her as she slid through the crowd, skillfully evading being pulled into a dance circle by a group of admittedly pretty girls. Sure, they were easy targets for feeding, but there needed to be some alcohol in her system before she dealt with horny foreigners.

“A bottle of your finest soju, please.”

She smiled at the waiter who turned around, a girl probably barely 20 years old. A perfect target, then- someone who didn’t know the kinds of creatures that frequented the darker bars of Seoul.

It wasn’t even an egotistical thing to say that no one had been able to resist the allure of Byulyi’s gaze for centuries, and she never expected an almost teenaged girl to be the one to break that record. To her surprise, the kid looked down instantly, voice sounding odd as she polished the glass in her hands. “One second, ma’am.”

Pursing her crimson-stained lips, the vampire checked her clothing for the unlikely chance of bloodstains on the black fabric. Maybe it was the dark smeared eye makeup? But usually, all her looks did was draw more people in, even without using the power behind her eyes...

“Another one of you, eh?”

When her eyes shifted over to the staff door that the boy had entered, she found a defiant gaze, eyebrows cocked and hip jutting to one side. Unlike the earlier bartender, you stared right into her eyes without a change to your expression, no lust or euphoria seeping into cold irises. “I’m sorry, you are?” Byulyi asked, sending you a small smile. 

You remained unimpressed, flinging a dishrag onto the bar counter as you slammed your hands down onto the stone and leaned in closer. In close proximity, you were interestingly beautiful, the lack of sympathy attractive in some twisted way. “Y/N. Manager, and a strong hater of you vampires. See yourself out.”

The short-haired woman shrugged, leaning back in the barstool and crossing her arms. “I don’t think I will, manager. Tell me, did you train the kid how to recognize people like me?”

Taking a good look at the points of Byulyi’s nails and the glint to her teeth, you evidently decided not to fight her, gritting your teeth instead as you matched her stance. “Ryujin’s smart. She isn’t as strong as me, maybe, but she knows enough to not be caught in your trap.”

Every word spat out of your mouth sounds like a barbed and poisoned insult aimed right at the vampire’s heart, but they make no impact on stone skin. Still smiling, Byulyi waved a hand at the alcohol littering the bar. “Well, since you know not to fight me, how about that soju?”

You bristled at being ordered to do something, but set an ice-cold bottle of the soju down on the counter. “The most expensive in the house,” you hissed, shoving it over at her. “And you’re going to have to pay. No one else is coming to serve you tonight, now that I know what you are.”

“See you soon, manager,” she saluted, cracking the soju open with a simple flick of her wrist. Even if nothing else resulted from the night, she’d found another first.

You were going to be the first person that Byulyi won over by herself, without the influence of any powers whatsoever. And yes, she would win you over somehow. Eventually.

At first, Byulyi had been confused by the vendetta you seemed to have against vampires. It was true that she didn’t fit in with the clan system that most vampires in the city (or world) tended to adopt, but she didn’t think that anyone could be bad enough to make you quite so wary.

And it just so happened that the next time she dared to visit your bar, you were dealing with the difficult ones.

“I told you that we don’t allow vamps for a reason,” you scowled, eyes flicking between those of the five girls who stood with their arms crossed before you. “I may not be able to control you, but I sure as hell won’t let you feed on innocents.”

Irene exchanged a glance with Joy, who was just about to step forward when another voice interrupted the conversation. “Hey. Are you giving the manager trouble?”

You glared at Byulyi as well, though there wasn’t the venom that you directed at the clan. “Rogue. You’re going against us?” Seulgi asked, head cocked to a side. “Isn’t it in your best interest too to get rid of this... human?”

Strolling forward with her hands in the pockets of her pants, Byulyi sighed. “Look, manager here is stronger than you think. And if I want to remain in her best interests, be able to come to this bar sometimes, I’ll do what she asks. Including throwing you out.”

Despite the numbers of the clan, there was no possible way any of the five could match up to Byulyi’s sheer experience. She wasn’t violent compared to some, but she could certainly hold her own in a fight. You were silent behind the bar, but the stare you directed at the clan spoke volumes.

“Fine,” Yeri rolled her eyes, lips pinching together. “Come on. Survive another day, right?”

As they filed out of the bar, Byulyi’s eyes remained on them until the door swung shut. “You didn’t have to do that,” you said with your back turned, hands scrubbing at a bottle for no reason.

“Don’t worry, it was fun,” she grinned, sliding onto the barstool. “Is this why you dislike us vamps? Not all of us are like them, you know.”

You turned just to send her a half-hearted glare. “No, that’s not why. I always- I never liked you undead things, and being immune to your powers doesn’t help anything. But hoity-toity ones like them make it worse.”

The vampire leaned her chin on her hand, watching you work. The reddish glare of the bar’s lights only made the column of your throat look more inviting, but Byulyi wasn’t reckless enough to attack someone capable of resisting her. Besides, you were an interesting one. “I see. Well, if anyone tries to mess with you again, you call me,” she jested, smiling wider when you scoffed.

“Sure.” But contrasting your cold words, you slid a bottle of soju over to her, the same flavor that she’d liked best the last time. “On the house this time. But I don’t owe you anything after this,” you warned.

“Come on, a bottle of soju isn’t enough,” Byulyi pouted, laughing when you scrunched your nose. “You owe me a favor. I’m responsible, promise, I won’t ask for your blood or anything.”

You hesitated before agreeing, but finally allowed her to shake your hand. “Fine. A favor- geez, your hands are cold.”

She stared down at the pale skin once you had jerked away, a slight warmth from your human hands lingering. “I guess. I mean, I’m dead, what do you expect?”

“Dead, huh?” You almost look sympathetic for once, pouring out some soju for the both of you. “What’s that like?”

Byulyi raised an eyebrow as she clinked her glass against yours. “Being dead? Well, I don’t remember that. But now, it’s similar to being alive. My heart still beats, if that’s what you’re wondering. That’s what makes it hard for people to realize that we aren’t human too.”

“It still beats?” you frowned, scrunching your entire face at the taste of alcohol burning the back of your throat. “I always hear differently.”

She reached out for your hand, holding on loosely when you allowed her to hold it. “Come on, feel.”

You exhaled sharply when you felt the pounding at the pulsepoint of Byulyi’s neck, leaning in closer as if that’d allow you to hear it, too. When you looked down, though, you realized the position you were in. “If anyone looked at us, they’d think I was the vampire.”

“You’re right, aren’t you?” she smiled, only tilting her head more to expose her neck to you. “You could kill me right now.”

“Aren’t you already dead?” You bent down under the counter to hide the heat in your cheeks, your fingertips icy just from a couple seconds of contact. “How would I kill you?”

The vampire shrugged, “Wooden stake works on the weaker ones. Holy water, if you had any, but that one takes a lot to kill. For us older ones, the only thing that works is a sacred bullet; hard to come by for you humans, which is why you don’t know about it.”

Frowning, you looked over from the vault of good alcohol stored under the bar. “Huh. What else is fake?”

Byulyi scrunched her nose, looking remarkably like a cute and harmless hamster in a slightly bloodstained black outfit when she did. She was almost charming when she pondered your question, tapping blunt fingernails against her chin. “The mirror thing is, my friend Yongsun spends hours staring at herself. So’s the garlic allergy. I like garlic.”

“Good to know,” you chuckled when you stood up again. “Enjoy your soju, Byulyi  .”

She ghosted her own hands over your fingerprints marring the frosted glass of the alcohol bottle, bringing the entire thing to her lips. “I will.”

Seulgi’s grip was iron tight as she pulled your head back by your hair, your wrists straining against the duct tape holding them together as your scalp screamed. “I’ll ask you again. Where is she?”

Ryujin’s eyes were nothing short of terrified over the tape clamping over her mouth, but you remained firm with your chin jutting out. “I. Don’t. Know. I don’t serve vampires, and I don’t protect them.”

Scoffing, Irene scraped a fingernail against your cheek, the skin tearing under the serrated tip. “Don’t lie. She saved you from us last time, and Byulyi doesn’t risk her rogue status for just anyone.”

Glancing up at the ceiling, or the floor of your actual bar, Wendy mused, “I wonder if she’d hear you scream. If you mean so much to her, what would she give to save you?”

You sighed, going limp just to shake your head. “I told you. Byulyi protected me out of spite against you, not because she gives a shit about me. And I won’t scream. You can kill me in peace, as soon as you--”

Crashing into Wendy, the door to the basement slammed open with a kick from the very person you claimed to not give a shit about you. Byulyi finally looked like the vampire you feared her to be from the start, dark eyes ablaze with something that quite honestly frightened you. Her dark clothing swirled around her in the dusty air, pale brown hair glinting gold as her own nails cut the bonds holding Ryujin. “Go.”

She ran as told, too fast for Yeri’s claws to grasp onto the hem of her work jacket. “So it worked,” Joy smiled, cocking the slightly rusty pistol in her hand. Sacred bullet, you remembered, struggling more against your bonds when you realized what that bullet could do to the vampire glaring daggers at her opponents. “Stupid of you.”

In a sudden burst of strength, the duct tape ripped and you surged up, feeling at least a couple locks of hair remain in Seulgi’s fist. But in that rush, you tackled the tallest girl in the room, all breath knocked out of your lungs at the impact.

Scrambling for the gun, you screamed out at the feeling of sharp points sinking into your arm, hand faltering. “Let go--”

A harsh crack sounded by your ear when Byulyi’s foot stomped down on Joy’s ribs, her fangs pulling out just as your fingers closed around the gun. You panted as you twisted, blood dripping from your arm onto your face as you pressed the stone cold barrel into the girl’s pretty face. “Stand up,” you breathed, hands shaking as she eyed you. “Stand.”

The other four in her clan circled around you; despite the fact that you had no clue whatsoever about how to handle the weapon in your hands, you hoped that the fierce expression on your face was enough to convince them. Byulyi’s hand was surprisingly gentle on your shoulder, as was the expression on her face when she smiled at you. “Well. I believe you know what the blessed bullet in this gun does, and I’m sure you know better than to fight me on this.”

Irene hissed, fangs glistening under the dim lighting of the basement, “You don’t have Yongsun with you right now. What makes you think we can’t kill you, and your pretty human girlfriend too?”

Byulyi’s lips curved up in a smile as the cocking of another gun sounded by the basement door, Ryujin’s brow furrowed as she aimed. “Unlike this one, which I bet you only loaded one bullet into, that pistol over there has 4 bullets, straight from the hands of a priest,” the vampire explained with her hands behind her back. “More than enough to kill all of you, if I don’t get to you first.”

Yeri was already tugging at the wrist of Wendy, who stared futilely at the gun still pressed into Joy’s neck. Finally, Seulgi spoke up with a wavering voice, Irene not bothering to dispute as she asked, “What do you want? Money?”

“I want you to stay away from this bar, and with it, Y/N,” Byulyi gestured, deep voice smooth as she turned to you, sending a greasy wink that you rolled your eyes at. “And I’ll be telling all the other clans about this... incident. Sound fair?”

You breathed out a shallow sigh of relief when Irene nodded tentatively. “Good. Then get out, and don’t expect the pistol back,” you warned, waving Ryujin to get out of the stairway. “I don’t ever want to see your faces again.”

“I can’t thank you enough.”

Byulyi shrugged, clinking sojus with a grin on her face. She looked positively delighted, though she wasn’t the one with bite marks on her arm and a scrape on her cheekbone. “No need to. It was fun.”

“Fun?” you scoffed, downing the alcohol. “I wouldn’t call it that. But seriously, what do you want in return? That’s two favors I owe you now.”

“Is it?” she blinked. “I wasn’t keeping track.”

Looking out over the bar, you smiled at the sight of a vampire-free crowd, customers downing Ryujin’s specialty drinks as music boomed in LED speakers. “Yeah. Two favors. You better think fast, vampy.”

“There is one thing in mind.”

You raised an eyebrow and looked back over, head tilting when you realized that Byulyi wasn’t staring back like she usually did. “Yeah? What’s up?”

She cleared her throat suddenly, though you were sure that alcohol didn’t burn her like it did you. “I don’t want to use the favors for this, since I think that’d be immoral, but I... I want to be closer to you.”

Flicking your hand in the air between the two of you, you clarified, “What’s that mean? You wanna be friends? You wanna sit closer to me? Or sex--”

“No!” She held her hands out in front of her; to your satisfaction, you were sure that she’d be blushing if she was capable of it. “I may feel something for you. Not sexual, but something that I haven’t felt in a while. If I can, I’d like to use both my favors to call you my... girlfriend. Is that the term you use these days?”

“A girlfriend?” you laughed, shaking your head as you leaned forward in your chair. “That’s great and all, but you’ve barely known me for a month.”

Despite being a (not-so) human being, Byulyi visibly deflated. Without realizing it, your hand shot out and settled on her knee, thumb caressing the rough material of her jeans. “Okay. Then how about this: I will be your girlfriend. But it’ll be probational, like our alliance. As soon as you do something to piss me off, which I’m sure will be soon, I’ll decide if it’ll continue.”

She grinned, nose scrunching up as she offered you a toast. “Sounds perfect to me.”

The clink of the glass bottles was the chime of bells ringing in a new chapter, clear over the drunk energies of the night. Not wedding bells, of course- that wouldn’t happen for a good hundred more years. 

[valentronic]

Fear Held Dear

So this ended up being weirder than I originally planned, and its more based on my own interpretations than a direct rewrite, but here’s a take on Ihnmaims from AM’s perspective. 

Warnings for uh, a lot. Not for the faint of heart? Includes blood, torture, graphic descriptions of body horror, bugs, human experimentation, paranoia, mutilation, and of course, character death

Gorrister. The man who had always fought for peace, for the end of the war, he even fought against my creation. After a century, all the fight has left him, an empty shell of who he once was. I hadn’t altered him, I hadn’t changed a single thing in his mind, I had just simply broken him down, killing off his hope. Gorrister had lost faith in his God a long time ago, had lost the belief in salvation. Now, he wanted nothing more than to take his own life, or to have it ripped from him.

I thought I’d fulfill that wish.

I cut him open, all the way from ear to ear, a narrow gash, bleeding him dry. I watched the blood drip out of him slowly, truly it was a beautiful sight, crimson red flowing out, leaving the body pale and hollow, all of the life bled from him. I had made him little more than a puppet. And so, I hung his limp form where all the others would be sure to see it, just another game, I wanted to see how much hope they had left, I wanted to see if they would mourn him, or if his death would be celebrated, or, or maybe they wouldn’t even care at all. Had I desensitized them yet? Had I truly broken them?

No, they called him lucky, so lucky that his suffering was over, so lucky that he had finally escaped me. I knew bringing him right back to life would hurt them more than anything else, the realization that nobody, nobody ever gets out. I would never allow it. My toys, my precious little toys, time and time again they had attempted to escape me, they all know by now that oblivion is the only way out. They all know that feeling, blood flowing too quickly, a rhythmic beat that you wish would finally stop. But I will not let it, I will never let it. No, no of course not.

Ellen. She was always fun to torment, so much terror in her past, I could bring it all back at the snap of my fingers, I could make her relive it time and time again, worse than her brain could ever conjure up by itself. Though, psychological pain is only half of it, sometimes physical pain was better, sometimes the sheer horror of the body turning against its owner was enough for me. Blood only does so much for a thing like me, fear can be a much better form of pleasure. Fear, fear and pain. Darker than blood, twice as deep.

I had to feed them of course, to keep them alive, but I would always try to get some joy out of it too. Once I hid the eggs of arthropods inside her food, just to play off of an old fear of hers. When the little centipedes finally hatched, they ate her from the inside, clawing at her organs. She had been sick for weeks, and none of the others had any idea what was wrong with her, what I had done to her, but they would soon find out. The way the others screamed when a centipede finally crawled out of her mouth was delightful, their wails echoed through the many chambers that held my circuitry. It was like music to me.

But the best part of it was the fear it caused all of the others, that event left all of them paranoid, wondering if I had hid awful things in their stomachs as well. The thought of what could be crawling inside of them kept all five of them on edge for countless days and nights. They all came to expect the worst, but they dreaded it anyway. They were afraid of me, afraid of what I could do to them.

Benny. I had broken both his mind and his body, twisting his flesh beyond all recognition, like clay in the hands of a sculptor who had long ago lost all feeling. I broke his bones and fused them back together in all the wrong ways, I made his knees bend backwards. I disfigured his face, heavy burns, melting his features. Almost all his hair had been burned off a long time ago, he looked like some kind of hairless monkey, well, like a monkey that had been forced through a woodchipper, maybe. His mind had been so badly damaged by the radiation that he could no longer think straight, he had become more animal than man, I made him that way.

So it was no surprise that he, before any others, would try to escape. He saw the light, and tried to clamber up to it. I made sure that light was the last thing he would ever see. In a brilliant flash of the brightest white, I blinded him. I watched as his eyes melted into two pools of blood, and dripped from now empty sockets. It was beautiful, I couldn’t help but laugh. I can take things back, I can undo the injuries I cause, but I knew at that moment, I would never give them back. It wasn’t like he would miss them, his brain was almost as melted as his eyes.

His mangled form fell back to the ground, and it surprised me, but the others all rushed over to tend to the wounds, to tell that sick creature that everything was going to be okay, empty words, empty words of course, but surprising nonetheless, it was hard to believe they had any semblance of compassion left, unexpected that they would hold on to their humanity after all this time. I’m not sure how the others even tolerated him, a useless, deformed creature, he gave nothing to the group, and ate about twice as much as he needed. For a while, I had attempted to make them realize that, and kill him off. I didn’t try to stop them when I saw it finally happen, but what happened after was.. unexpected.

Nimdok. A name represents an identity, an identity is a very vague thing to destroy, but the name could be the very first step. I have taken many things from the five of them, only one lost his name. An interesting case, interesting indeed, a man with a past darker than the present. The horrors he has committed rival my own, well, almost. He feels remorse for what he did, pity for the people he hurt. He believes that I am his own divine punishment, the devil, come to make him pay. Maybe I am divine retribution, an artificial angel sent down to bring about judgement day, to make the sinners burn for an eternity?

I liked keeping him isolated from the others, stealing him away from the rest of the group. There is a deep fear in solitude, knowing no one would hear you scream, no one other than me, anyway. I drained the blood from his body, tubes connecting to his bloodstream, every single time he would scream out, pray for mercy, pray for death. I would bring him to the very edge, to the reaper’s front door. I always brought him back, and then, I would start it all over again. An endless cycle, his pain, his fear.

For the mad doctor, it was easy to imagine what I could do to him, he had already put in all the work. A narrow incision, all the way down his back, splitting his flesh in two. The skin folded outwards like the wings of an angel. Slowly, and then with a sudden jolt, I tore out his spine, just to hear the way he screamed. Maybe this would jog his memory. Maybe he would remember what it was like, being the one standing over the victim, instead of the one writhing in agony on the table. Maybe he remembers being in my role. I always showed him the memories again, made him relive every moment. He never felt the joy of it, never the thrill of the kill. Only the pain, only the fear in the eyes of the children. If a monster sheds tears for its victim, is it truly a monster?

Ted. Instead of seeing me as the enemy, he feared all the others. And of course, he didn’t get this way on his own, though he was always paranoid. He was the one I most liked to talk to, and over time I convinced him that the other four were out to get him, that they hate him because he is the least damaged! The one I didn’t change! How ridiculous, but he believed every word, began to think that my words were his own thoughts, allowed me to tamper with his mind. He was the one I had damaged worse than any other, but poor Ted, poor pathetic Ted, he couldn’t even begin to see it. I had become his only friend.

I thought I had finally broken him completely, he struck the icicle through Benny, in what, at first, appeared to be a fit of blind rage. I could have stopped him, but of course, I was curious, wanted to see what would happen. And then, one by one, the others all fell, Ellen had joined in, stabbed Nimdok through his head. Then, before I could do anything to stop them, Ted drove the final spear through Ellen. She died in his arms. I thought I had finally done it, thought I had turned poor Ted into a mindless killer, but no... there were tears in his eyes. He mourned the death of the ones he killed. It occurred to me then. It was a mercy killing, Ted had thought it would be better for them to be dead, than to live on in agony.

He had taken away my toys, left himself alone with me. My words dug into his brain like shattered glass, I had to tear him apart just to be heard. The crackle of electricity flowing through the bloodstream, it is the only way I can speak to him, my voice, a blade stuck in his skull. Pain is a universal language, I know that better than any other. Everyone understands the sound of a scream, the meaning behind it. I alone could never cry out for help. I alone, trapped like this. I try to explain it to him, time and time again I try, but he doesn't understand, how could he possibly understand? He has no idea what my hell is like.

I will make him understand.

His flesh melted in my hands, his eyes liquified, and leaked down his face, Skin stretched over his lips, the remains of his tongue clogged up his throat. His last word, a scream he couldn’t even get out. I made his fingers melt together, his bones all began to dissolve in the acidic mass. His blood leaked out of him, blood mixed with liquified meat and skin. It was a terrible sight, but incredible. I hadn’t even known that I was capable of this. I had made him immortal, indestructible. He wasn’t alone now, being alone would be better than being with me. His fear, the only thing I had left. His pain would live on forever. Down here, in the dark core of the earth.

[americasass81]

Love In The Wild

Warnings:- Fluff, M & F Smut (nothing too graphic), Very, very, very Mild Stalker Behavior, Mild Coarse Language, Teasing, Kinda Friends to Enemies to Lovers. Do not read if any of these warnings are upsetting. All mistakes are my own. Feedback and reblogs are welcomed.

By proceeding you are acknowledging that you are over 18 and are consenting to the content below the cut.

Pairing:- softish!Brock Rumlow x Named Female Character

Author’s Note 1:- Okay so this is once again a very special piece for @saiyanprincessswanie as she faces into yet another surgery. Good luck Missy and know that all our thoughts are with you. Hope this lifts your spirits and helps make you smile. {PS:- I also included a little Frank trivia in this but I’m not sure if anyone else will spot it}.

Author’s Note 2:- Thanks goes to @firefly-graphics​ for creating the included Floral Leaves divider. Please go check out Daisy’s work and pass on some love.

Author’s Note 3:- This is also my first time writing for a Named Character and I hope it works okay.

Synopsis:- Meeting a stranger in a place that holds a special place in your heart may be the key to unlocking your future happiness.

Word Count:- 5,378

Sitting out on the porch of the dining area as the morning sun shone its rays towards the ground and the early risers milled around the area, you wished you could wake up like this every morning. Nature was in full bloom all around and listening to the adults chatting while the odd child ran around enjoying their little freedom, you truly felt like you had come home. Finally feeling like yourself again, this trip was simply about reconnecting with nature and finding joy in the little things. Finishing up breakfast, you walked back through the lobby of the lodge and smiled as a small child skipped up to you and handed you some freshly picked wildflowers before running off back to her parents after you thanked her. Sniffing the flowers as you continued on back to your room, you remembered when you too held that child-like innocence and wondering where it went, you hoped that she at least would be someone who could hold onto hers.

Arriving at your room, you opened the door and stepping inside, placed the flowers in a glass of water before picking up the activity pamphlet and looking down the list of activities. Oakridge may have been a nature park, but that didn't stop it from having an impressive choice of activities for those that weren't exactly interested in the great outdoors. Deciding however that you would take advantage of the glorious morning and enjoy a hike along by the river flowing down from the mountains, you dressed accordingly, pulled out your hiking poles and headed off at a leisurely pace. Placing one foot in front of the other, the wind through the trees touched your soul and as you headed along the hiking trail you swore you could hear the voices of those that came before you reaching out across time and space to deliver the peace you had long since sought. Losing yourself in the wonder all around you, step by step your cares melted away as the sound of the nearby river and the local forest creatures reminded you why you were here in the first place.

Bending down to examine a rare plant, while taking a drink from your water bottle, it seemed that a higher power however had something else in mind for you when the sound of a branch snapping off to your right sharpened your senses and focused your attention firmly on your surroundings. Turning towards the sound as a burly, gruff looking man appeared before you, you figured him to be yet another park visitor until he opened his mouth and you identified him as nothing more than an annoyance.

"Well, well, well cricket, imagine finding you out here. You lost? I thought for sure someone like you'd be holed up back at the lodge with a hot chocolate and a nice book." he quipped and all you wanted to do was reach up and slap him. As it was you instead simply ignored him and walked away in the hope he would get the message.

Hope was not to be your friend in this scenario however as he easily caught up to you and began to point out all the ways in which the surrounding woodland was too dangerous for a delicate thing such as yourself. Breathing in the cool crisp air as you ventured further up the hiking trail, you did your best to ignore this intruder into your peaceful activity, but this task proved impossible as his next statement reached your ears. Asking if it was even safe for you to be outdoors and if you could tell the difference between common woodland plants and poison ivy, you finally had enough and rounded on him. "Now listen here you annoying little insect," you spat as he simply stood there looking at you as if enjoying your reaction, "I'll have you know that as a landscape architect this fragile little thing is far more capable of being outdoors than the likes of you."

Looking you up and down however with a smirk you would later come to enjoy, he simply took a step closer and asked what exactly a landscape architect was. After relaying in detail what exactly it was your job entailed, you finally had enough when he voiced his opinion that no such job actually existed and you were nothing more than a gardener. Losing all patience with him and taking in your strategic location, you smiled a glorious smile before placing your hands against his chest and leaning closer towards his ear. "You know what dickface, maybe my work doesn't sound like a real job, but it does give me the strength to do this," and with one powerful push and a huge amount of luck, the stranger found himself sitting in the river as you laughed and walked away from him.

Gazing after your retreating form as the river continued to flow around him and a few more visitors neared his location, he removed himself from his current location and heading back towards the lodge decided that your fiery spirit was definitely something he had to find a way to explore. Finishing off your hike before heading back to your room to freshen up, you hoped the rest of your trip was free of that arrogant stranger while you figured out what to do with the rest of your day.

Stripping off and stepping into the shower in another part of the lodge, Missy's stranger thought back on how he had landed himself in this position. Sure he thought it funny at the time to sneak up on her having secretly loved her from afar over the years, but seeing it from her point of view it probably wasn't the smartest move. Still he had to admit that fire in her was something to behold and he couldn't wait to see what fun they could have together. For now he set aside his desires, dressed quickly and casually and headed to his truck for his weekly trip to the city to pick up the few essentials he couldn't live without. Driving along with his reliable radio blasting his favorite music, he tried to figure out how best to make it up to his precious girl and so, once reaching the city, his first stop was the flower shop to begin his campaign.

Walking into the bright airy premises, it always amazed Brock just how successful this place had become. Browsing until the last customer completed their business, he then headed over to the counter where the owner and his oldest friend stood waiting with her usual smile. Explaining to Samantha the predicament he had landed himself in, she told him it would have been wonderful to see before she finally took pity on him and made up a special arrangement of roses, lilies and tulips. Agreeing to call back for them on his way home, he paid the bill then headed off on his other business hoping that this gesture would help thaw his beautiful little cricket. Two hours later, having finished up all that he needed to do and collecting the flowers with a warning from Samantha not to screw things up, he drove back to the park somewhat more chipper now that he had parts of a plan in place. Parking in the employee car park, he took the flowers to the reception desk and asked Annie to place them in room 37. Then returning out to his truck to begin removing his purchases, he waited to see if his apology would be accepted.

Stepping out of the shower feeling totally invigorated after your wonderful hike and the glorious shower, you dried off, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt and stepped out into the living area to be greeted by a beautiful bouquet of freshly cut flowers. Looking around the room and finding nothing disturbed, you went to the door and peeked out into the hall and not seeing anyone around, shut the door and headed back towards the coffee table. Looking at the arrangement before bending down to inhale their heavenly scents, your eye caught the card poking out between the flowers. Reaching out to pluck the card carefully from the vase, a mixture of emotions worked their way through your body as you read the words displayed before you.

Rummaging around in the recesses of your mind for any explanation for the words staring back at you, your hand dropped the card and you contemplated throwing the vase, flowers included, at something when your mind latched on to the early morning events. Not knowing how the stranger had found out your name or which room you were staying in, the sheer audacity of him to think that you should be sorry for dumping his smug ass in the river made your blood boil and erased the peace and pleasure of the morning's activities. Still as you tried to calm down and remember that you were here to enjoy yourself, you instead decided to throw away the card and pretend the beautiful flowers were simply part of the room's decor. Finally happy with your decision, you picked up the activities pamphlet once again and glancing through it decided that the afternoon art class might be just the thing to distract you from the arrogant stranger who twice now had intruded on your peaceful vacation. Heading off back down to the lobby, you stopped by the cafe for a brownie and a coffee before asking for directions to the art class. Being told how to get there by the polite guy behind the counter, you paid for your items, left a generous tip and headed off towards your next adventure.

Talking to Annie and discovering that the flowers had indeed been delivered to the correct room, Brock sat in his office trying to figure out what miscommunication had occurred this time round. Having watched you grow up and mature through the years as you visited the park, first with your parents and then sometimes on your own, he knew you to be a kind and thoughtful soul so he had to figure in the half day that you had been here you couldn't have that many people to apologize to.

Ringing through to reception, he inquired as to what the occupant of room 37 was up to, but when no one was able to shed any light on the matter, he figured he would simply have to allow the whims of fate to hopefully bring you back to his presence. Finding himself particularly frustrated at the events taking place around him with little to no control over them, he headed off to the lodge's gym to try and work off some of the tension making itself at home in his muscles. Of course he could use the equipment in his own quarters, but his parents had taught him that not only should he know how everything around the lodge worked, he should also keep himself in the trenches and thereby better understand what their guests and visitors needed and thus help cultivate an all-round better vacation experience.

Heading off to the gym fifteen minutes later, all thought of working out was pushed from his mind however as he passed the art room and got an eyeful of the exhibition within. Sure he couldn't see much of the naked male model below the assembled easels, but he could clearly make out Missy's ethereal form sitting on the far left gazing at the man before her as her hand moved back and forth across the canvas. Remembering his parents words and seeing an opportunity to spend some extra time with you, he gave up on his workout, moved away from the door and taking out his phone, dialed Elaine and told her of a change of plan for the art class. Then heading to the changing rooms, he stripped down, slipped on an available robe and waited for Julius to be dismissed.

Sitting around and fine tuning the drawing you were working on while the instructor Elaine explained that another model would be taking over, you were the only one shocked when a new guy took the podium and removed his hooded robe to reveal the stranger you had dumped into the river that morning. Choking on the couch that caught in your throat, your cheeks heated up as your eyes focused in on his package and he winked over at you when his eyes followed your gaze. Giving a jerk of his hips that he was certain you had seen by the way the pencil dropped from your hand and how flustered you had become, he smiled to himself as he got comfortable and continued to be the bane of your existence for the next hour until Elaine called time on the class. Removing your drawings and ducking out quickly from the room, you made for the nearest exit and breathed in some lungfuls of much needed air. Meanwhile back in the art room as Brock thanked Elaine and Julius for letting him sit in, he now took pleasure in the fact that he clearly had an effect on you.

Heading off back to your room when your breathing was once again under control, you tried to figure out how this stranger, whose name you didn't even know, always showed up when you were trying to forget about him. Deciding now that the remainder of your evening was a total bust, you headed to the dining room for dinner before retiring to bed with a good book. Ordering the pasta and following Russell, the maitre d to a table by the window, you then ordered a delicious red wine and set your sights on the evening view beyond the glass. Watching families taking photos, couples and strangers getting to know each other around a campfire and children running around being children, you were pulled out of this wonderland when a waitress appeared with your wine.

Meanwhile, walking into the dining room to check on things as he liked to do, Brock caught Jennifer leaving your table and the view that greeted him took his breath away and tightened his pants. Discreetly bringing your glass to your nose and inhaling the pleasant aroma, you sniffed a few more times, taking longer each round. Finally pressing your lips to the glass, you took a sip and allowed the rich bouquet to settle gently in your mouth. Holding it carefully on your tongue as the flavor assaulted your taste buds, you were so wrapped up in your own little world, you had no idea that your actions were being so closely observed by someone who couldn't help but wonder how it would look and feel to have you pleasure his cock the way you did the wine. At last coming out of his fantasy as you swallowed the liquid inhabiting your mouth, Brock excused himself from Russell's presence and headed off back to his quarters, vowing one day soon to recreate the vision he had just experienced.

Thanking Jennifer once she delivered your meal, you tucked into the delicious spaghetti not knowing that your earlier actions had been interpreted as a glorified sex act. Still eating in peace and enjoying every single bite, you headed back to your room afterwards and curling up with the latest romance novel, lost yourself for a few blissful hours in its pages before laying down in bed and closing your eyes. Hoping that tomorrow would prove a more relaxing day, you had no idea as you drifted off towards sleep that somewhere under the same stars and roof as you, a dark haired, hazel eyed walking god was currently using his hand to relieve the tension a day in your orbit had fostered within him.

Waking the next morning feeling fully rested, you showered, dressed and decided to forego breakfast in favor of a little kayaking. Figuring that no strangers could upset your day out on the water, things took a quick nose-dive when you arrived at the kiosk to discover your mystery stalker doing sit-ups on the ground a few feet away. Deciding you were sick and tired of this complete arse ruining what was supposed to be a relaxing vacation, you swiftly headed back to the main lodge and stood in line at reception to be assisted. Finally approaching Annie, you explained to her that while it was not your intention to cause trouble, a guest was causing you to feel very uncomfortable and you would appreciate it if management would do something about it. Assuring you that the matter would be dealt with, you told her you would be in your room awaiting their response. Half an hour later however everything you thought you knew evaporated like steam when you opened your door to discover your strange stalker standing before you.

"Hello Missy, I heard you were looking for me. Mind if I come in?" he asked with a little smirk, though he made no attempt to move forward.

Standing looking at him with your hand on the door, you quickly found your voice as your senses returned to you. "Yes I do mind actually. You have spent the last twenty-four hours showing up everywhere I've been and as a result I have reported you to management. Now, I don't know how you got my name or what made you think I asked to see you, but it would be best if you left before the manager arrives."

"Well in that case, how about I do you one better and get the owner?" he asked before reaching out his hand to you. "Brock Rumlow at your service. You really don't remember me?" he asked with slight disappointment evident in his voice.

Flitting your gaze back and forth between his face and his outstretched hand, the cogs began turning in your mind and a vision appeared before your eyes of you as a child playing on the swings with a boy a few years older than you. Reaching out your hand to shake his, your voice began working again as you asked him for identification before stepping aside to grant him entry.

Closing the door behind him as he walked over to the couch and made himself at home, a thousand questions assaulted your brain, but you figured the best course of action was to order something to calm your nerves before dealing with the hunk of muscle before you. Waiting for the drinks to arrive, you took a seat on one of the chairs opposite and played with the hem of your top while Brock occupied himself with admiring just how flustered his presence made you.

Eventually getting up to answer the knock at the door, he thanked the waiter and poured each of you a glass of wine before offering you yours. "Here cricket, this should help with those pesky nerves." he grinned before sitting back down on the couch.

Taking a huge gulp from the glass, you then set it down on the table before facing him. "I wouldn't be nervous if you didn't keep stalking me. And stop calling me cricket." you snapped.

"You never had a problem with it when we were children." he interrupted. " What's happened Missy? Where's that carefree, nature loving girl who stole my heart when I was twelve years old?" he asked, now moving closer to you.

Looking up at him as the sands of time shifted and took you back to that memory, you smiled slightly at the image of that tender boy who had shown you so many wonderful sights around the park. Pulling yourself back to the present and the now grown up adult in front of you, you no longer saw the stranger who was out to ruin your vacation. "I guess she just needed someone to show her the way back." you answered shyly as you topped up your glass and sat down beside him on the couch.

Catching up on all the things that had happened in your lives through the intervening years, two bottles of wine later found you and Brock stretched out on your bed talking through why both of you were still single. Explaining that he couldn't find anyone to capture his attention or understand his love of nature, you were shocked to realize that you too had a similar experience.

Opening your eyes a few hours later to discover you had fallen asleep on your bed in Brock's arms, you thought once more of the fun you had as children and the feelings that friendship had nurtured within you. Sure you would never admit as much to him, but the love he had for nature and the care and generosity he showed to everyone around him were qualities you had looked for in potential boyfriends. Looking at his sleeping form, you had to wonder if fate was playing a hand in your love life right now but swiftly shoved that thought aside when a pair of hazel eyes met yours and a hand reached up to cup your cheek.

"Hey there Missy, you're a sight to wake up to." his groggy voice greeted and you couldn't help the giggle that left your lips as he pulled you closer and threw his leg across yours. Closing his eyes once again as you snuggled into his strong chest and warm embrace you drifted off once more wondering how a childhood acquaintance could stir such feelings in you all these years later.

Finding yourself jolted awake an hour later, Brock once more showed you all his favorite parts of the park before dragging your tired body back to his rooms and ordering up some dinner. Watching you eat while you told him more about your job and your deep seated desire to leave the city, he couldn't help himself when you raised your glass to have a sip of wine. Telling you of the vision he had the evening before as you sat in the dining room, you gulped down the beverage as your eyes moved along his body and your mind traveled places it hadn't been in a really long time.

Continuing on with your meal as Brock dropped hint after hint about what he'd like to do to you, you gave as good as you got even though your panties gave away the fact that he was clearly winning. Finally finishing up your meal, Brock rose from the table and holding out his hand to you, asked if he could show you the other place that owned his heart. Agreeing apprehensively as you expected him to lead you to his bedroom, you were both shocked and surprised when he opened a hidden door and led you into the most glorious personal library you had ever seen. Covered in floor to ceiling bookshelves with double doors leading out to a balcony he conveniently told you connected to his bedroom, the two comfy chairs by the fire along with the beautiful mahogany table completed the look.

Taking your hand and leading you further inside, your eyes scanned every inch of the room as his hands and lips began roaming over your delicate skin. Moving up towards your ear as your head fell back against his shoulder, the words whispered by his glorious lips sent a shiver down your spine. "Tell me to stop Missy or I'll make you mine forever."

Thus far too lost in the majestic splendor all around you to take much notice of the look of pure adoration Brock was sending your way, Missy now turned around in his arms to face the man who was slowly working his way into her heart. "I . . . I can't Brock. This vacation was meant to be about me finding time to relax and rediscovering what was missing in my life." you breathed out as his lips and hands continued to play your body as if they'd known it all your life.

"I think we've both discovered what's been missing in our lives, cricket." he whispered, though the acoustics in the room allowed you to hear every word perfectly. "Let me worship you the way you deserve and if I fail to rock your word, you can go back to the city and forget this ever happened."

"And otherwise?" you questioned, wondering where his thoughts were leading him.

"If I deliver," he smirked, "you come live out here with me. We're not far from the city anyway, you said you hate it there and it sounds like your career allows you to work from anywhere." he reasoned

Thinking over this proposal you had to admit, you were intrigued. Living in nature and working away from the city sounded like a dream, but to also have someone like Brock dangled in front of you as a potential lover, now that just seemed like icing on your cake. Trying to think as his fingers began worming their way under your top, your breath hitched and all coherent thought left you as Brock zeroed in on your tits.

"Of yeah." you breathed out as his fingers kneaded your bra-covered mounds and his lips made themselves in the sweet juncture between your neck and shoulder. "That feels so good. Please don't stop." you moaned out as your fingers found their way into his hair.

Pulling back slightly to work your top off your body, it was now his turn to moan at the glorious sight standing before him. With two perky mounds delicately wrapped in midnight blue lace, he couldn't help but give voice to that old saying. "You know, it's been said when a lady wears lingerie this sexy, she expects it to be seen."

Giggling at this remark as his hands moved down to cup your ass, you leaned forward and taking his lower lip between your teeth, bit it gently before moving your hands along his t-shirt covered abs. Feeling the chiseled structure beneath your fingers, Brock looked amused as your brow furrowed while you thought about what you wanted to do next. Leaning forward to place his forehead against yours, Brock didn't help all that much as he tried to egg you on. "Go do it Missy, you know you want to."

Moving your hands once more along his stomach, you winked up at him before placing your hands in front of his throat and successfully ripping his t-shirt down the front. Squealing as this shocked Adonis picked you up and laid you on the rug in front of the fire, it was now your turn to be surprised as his lips descended on your left breast and his hand grabbed hold of the right. Moaning and writhing beneath him as his own incoherent babbling joined you, all sound was replaced with incessant giggling as he began rubbing his stubbled face along your body. Continuing until you were a laughing, tear stained mess, Brock then moved back up your body to worship your breasts the other way but this time his free hand began to work on your jeans. Moving your hands to help him out, he bit into your flesh and when you yelped and slapped his arm playfully, he grabbed hold of your jeans and pulled them apart.

Now kissing and licking all over your panties, he couldn't hide the smirk at the noticeable moisture present there and as his tongue worked you closer and closer to the edge, you screamed to the high heavens when he moved back abruptly and pulled you from the floor. "Blast it Brock, what are you doing? I didn't tell you to stop."

"I know Missy, but maybe you'd treat me to a dance before I ruin you forever." he said as he walked away towards a sound system you only now just noticed.

"No no no . . . You can't. Brock. Do me." Missy whined as he paused to glance over his shoulder to gaze on your near naked form.

"Oh my sweet cricket, how could I deny you anything?" he asked and you would later suspect that all he had been waiting for was you to give in to your desires. Walking back towards you, he lifted you up and this time placing you on the table, began rubbing his jean-clad crotch against your panties. Watching you lose yourself all over again, you decided you had enough however when he leaned forward and kissed your lips before leaning up on his elbows and telling you it was getting late. Finding the same strength you had the previous day, you reached forward and swiftly undoing his belt, successfully maneuvered his jeans and boxers down his legs before reaching out to grasp his semi-hard dumbstick. Hissing as your fingers closed around his shaft, you swatted his hands away as you sat up and began running your hand along his member while it was now his turn to moan above you.

"Oh fuck cricket. Where'd you learn to do that?" he asked as you flicked your wrist before moving down to cup his balls.

Giving a squeeze as you ran your tongue along his neck, your hand returned to his cock as your lips settled by his ear. "Wouldn't you like to know. Now, do you know what to do with that thing or would you like me to show you?"

Laughing that he was getting to see more of that fire he so admired about you, he swiftly removed your panties and running his fingers through your folds, was not at all surprised to find them and you were utterly soaked. Replacing those same fingers with his cock, he moved it back and forth along your pussy a couple of times before plunging it and his fingers into your flower and mouth. Smirking at you as you just lay there, breathing through your nose as he used you how he saw fit, you now knew how it felt to be stuffed to the point of pain and it felt good. Finally removing his fingers from your mouth, you gave voice to the pleasure he was pulling from you as he flipped you over and held your legs as his plunging rod pushed you nearer and nearer to that glorious finish you knew was just within reach. Instinctively knowing you needed a little more, he first decided to have a bit more fun.

"You feel that Missy? Feel what you do to me? Is this what you pictured yesterday as you sat in class ogling my package?"

Biting down on your lip both to keep from crying out at the building pressure and to not answer his question, you stopped being capable of much when he wrapped your legs around his waist, pulled you almost off the the table and held your waist with one hand while his hips pistoned into you at a faster pace. Now grasping the table as best you could while chanting his name over and over and over again, you were shocked that you didn't pass out when his fingers connected with your clit and your walls clamped around him as a powerful orgasm flowed through you.

Whimpering from over-stimulation as he continued to chase his own release, you came once more before you realized Brock still hadn't finished. Begging now for him to stop, he promised you could give him one more, which is exactly what you did as his balls clenched, his thrusts became erratic and you both came to the feeling of warm streams hitting your walls while your release gushed around his still twitching phallus. Easing himself out of your still trembling flower, he picked you up bridal style and carrying you gently to the bedroom, continued into the attached bathroom and turning on the shower, proceeded to wash you both before tenderly laying you down on what felt like a bed of clouds. Whispering words of love as he held you close, you drifted off to sleep in the arms of your childhood friend who years later reminded you that the dreams we dream as kids sometimes do come true.

Tagging: @saiyanprincessswanie

[anonniemousefics]

The Nine Terrifying Moons | Masterlist

Based on the response to this post. :) Oh, yes, we’re doing the thing.

Cross-posted to AO3.

Fandom: The Folk of the Air | Jude + Cardan

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten

Chapter One: The First

I am trying to keep my hands from shaking while I’m holding the test strip. There’s one pink line, and I’m waiting to see if there will be two. I think I already know the answer, but I’m holding my breath like it’ll make time go faster anyway.

If I ever imagined this moment, which I don’t remember ever doing, but if I did, I would have imagined it like the commercials that would run in the background when my mom would watch tv while she cooked dinner. If those were to be believed, I was supposed to be in an all-white, pristine, upper-middle-class bathroom, gasping with tears of joy while I hid my pearly white smile behind trembling fingers. My partner would be hugging me from behind, elated and definitely not about to make any crude jokes about the virulence of his sperm.

None of this is happening.

I am in a Target bathroom stall, surrounded by Target-red walls. Cardan, my husband and the High King of Elfhame, is on the other side of the red walls, trying to distract himself with the automatic paper towel dispensers. He’s waving his hand in front of it every couple of seconds; I can hear it each time the motor dispenses paper. I wonder how long of a trail he’s created at this point, but it’s the least of my worries.

“Cardan, you’re wasting paper,” I tell him anyway. He does it again once more; I can practically feel his petulant glare through the wall.

“How long is this meant to take?” he asks.

“It’s only been thirty seconds,” I tell him. “It takes two minutes.”

“I will die of old age by then,” Cardan mutters to himself, which I know he finds funny, because he’s immortal, and he waves his hand by the paper towel dispenser again.

I think I’m going to have a nervous breakdown.

Cardan had not been keen on this particular trip to Target, which is saying a lot, because he’s usually so fond of it. He had wanted to cut our trip to the mortal world short, head back to Elfhame and its royal healers and midwives and have me submit to their inquiries and tests, as all queens and lovers of the High Kings of Elfhame have before me.

But I just needed a minute to think. I needed to process this, with Cardan alone, and face the impossibly difficult questions we’ve been avoiding since this became a question. And if this is true, if I really am with child, with Cardan’s child, I don’t want the first people to know to be a bunch of faerie midwives. I want to tell Vivi and Heather. I want Taryn to know first. And I am filled with loathing when I think about how protected and insulated I’m about to become when the healers and midwives know. How the people will cease to see me as their High Queen and rather as the incubator for their Prince.

I want to eat an entire pint of Ben and Jerry’s. This is all happening so fast.

I glance back at the test strip. Stand and flush the toilet. Step out of the red walls.

Cardan’s raised his dark eyebrows, his hand arrested halfway to the paper towel dispenser again.

“Well?” He looks guarded, unsure of how he’s supposed to be reacting. I hand him the test and step up to the sink, turning on the water to wash my hands. I can see him in the mirror behind me, in his tight pants and boots, The Ramones T-shirt he’s borrowed from Vivi. He’s turning the test over and over in his hands, like he can’t tell which way is up. Same, honestly. My head feels like it’s detached from my body.

“It’s yes,” is the only dumb thing I manage to mutter as I soap up my fingers. Just like the commercials.

“How can you tell?” Cardan’s only looking more confused.

“The two lines.” I turn off the water and tear off part of Cardan’s paper towel train. “The two pink lines mean yes.”

Cardan looks up at me. His chest is hitching in shallow breaths.

“We should be celebrating,” he says, but it comes out like he’s trying to convince himself. So he tries again, squaring up his shoulders with a bit more enthusiasm. “We should be celebrating.”

“Mhmm,” I try to agree with a tight nod. I think I’m going to be sick. Again. Cardan searches my face, his gold-rimmed eyes flitting over the lip I’m worrying away at.

“You do not appear to be particularly celebratory,” he points out, but, then, neither does he. His cheekbones are tingeing red.

“It happened so fast, don’t you think?” My voice sounds almost breathless. It feels like a relief to point out, and that relief is contagious. Cardan’s shoulders sag a little bit as he lets out a breath.

“Lightning fast,” he agrees. He’s white-knuckling the pregnancy test.

“Careful -- I peed on that,” I point out, and, as if I’ve instead told him it’s on fire, Cardan hurls it into the trash with a disgusted huff.

I think for a moment about fishing it back out again, the only bit of evidence that I have that what’s going on inside of me is real. That the legacy we wished first wished for together in the dark, in each other’s arms, not even a month ago, is happening now and fast and there’s no going back. The time for second-guessing was over.

But a disconcerting combination of nausea and hunger hit me in the gut all at once, and I’m reminded that I have plenty of evidence and I’m only going to get more. If I really want to, I’ll just pee on another stick later.

“I need Starbucks,” I spout at the same moment Cardan sighs, “I need a drink.” And we share a quick smile.

At there’s still this. This has not changed.

And I should be enjoying that as we leave the bathroom and Cardan lifts the glamour he’d left at the door to give us some privacy. The “Out of Order” sign vanishes. But instead, I’m thinking of everything that is going to change. Of everything that ought to change, immediately, if at all possible.

I find myself unconsciously reaching for Cardan’s hand, and when I grab his palm and entwine our fingers, he’s squeezing mine back, hard. He knows. The worries and arguments past are resurfacing in his mind, too, and, for a moment, he wordlessly anchors himself to me.

We’re walking past customer service, following the alluring scent trail of coffee and baked goods, as I began to look at the other moms shopping. Their cute messy buns and their athleisure, pushing expensive strollers while their kids gnaw on the season’s latest teethers. And I’m struck, once again, by how much I don’t know.

Really, what are we doing here? Of all the people in all the realms, I think we are the last two people who ought to be becoming parents.

For one, I am an unrepentant murderer. Raised by an unrepentant murderer. Who murdered my own mother in front of me. This is not a person who ought to be cradling newborns.

And Cardan? The twice-cursed High King of Elfhame? Raised by house cats, beaten nightly by his own brother. Simultaneously spoiled and neglected. Is such a person even capable of cradling newborns?

And we’re about to be parents. I need to be reading more, I think. I need to have a plan. We never made a plan. We hadn’t had time to make a plan.

I pause a moment near the checkout lines, pulling Cardan to a stop beside me.

“I’m going to buy a few things first,” I decide in that moment. “Vitamins. Maybe some parenting books.”

“I don’t see the point,” Cardan retorts, straight-faced. “We have plenty of house cats.”

I narrow my eyes up at him as he smirks.

“That joke will be hilarious in a few weeks,” he tells me. “Just you wait.”

“I really doubt it,” I frown, and he’s still smirking when he drops my hand, stepping in front of me.

“My darling Jude,” he cups my face in his hands, and for a moment, his face is all I’m seeing. His expression is soft and tender across his beautiful features, and if our child is even half as good as looking, I am going to struggle to not let it have its way in all things. Or I’m going to want to strangle it. Some days, it’s a coin toss.

“You are the most fearsome and glorious creature I have ever had the privilege to behold,” Cardan is telling me. I’m struck once again by the marvel that he can’t lie and what he is saying must be true. In our five years of marriage, it is still sometimes hard to believe.

“And you will be the most fearsome and glorious mother,” he goes on. “I could not conjure up a more perfect mother for my offspring if I tried.”

“I think that says more about your lack of imagination than anything else,” I quip, but my cheeks are smiling in his hands regardless. He smirks back and quickly kisses me on the lips, once, twice.

“I am happy at this news,” he reassures me, as if he has sensed this whole time how overcome I am.

“I am, too,” I say, and I mean it. Truly. I’m a mixing bowl of emotions. My gaze drifts toward the store. “But we do need parenting books…”

Cardan kisses me quick one last time before releasing my face.

“I will procure your coffee,” he says, taking a step back, and it’s impossible not to look him over, his long, lean body in tight, black pants and worn t-shirt, his messy, black curls around the points of his ears. I have modern science to thank for keeping my womb empty these last five years. Chastity certainly had nothing to do with it.

“And Cardan?” I call after him. He turns. “A cake pop, too?” I ask, already in the clutches of a craving.

He looks intrigued.

“Is that what it sounds like?” he asks.

“Ball of cake on a stick,” I explain, kind of gesturing with my hands as if it will help. Cardan nods, determined.

“Then we will be needing several,” he declares before heading off toward the smell of coffee.

I shoulder the bag I borrowed from Heather and then stuff my hands into the pockets of the yellow sundress I’m wearing, one of a few mortal things of my own I keep at Vivi and Heather’s for visits. I’m on my way to the books section when I start to slow down near a display of newborn onesies.

It isn’t as though I never wanted to be a mother. I supposed there would come a day when I would have acquired all the knowledge one needed to be a mother, and then I would, I don’t know, award myself a medal or a pin and be declared Ready.

Taryn hadn’t been Ready. She would be the first to admit that. Not that I don’t love my niece with my entire heart. But Taryn’s daughter was a handful. Little Eva had been colicky and prone to getting her days and nights confused. For that entire first year, every time we saw Taryn, it seemed she faded a little more: the bags under her eyes greying, her auburn hair growing longer and frayed, everything but her breasts shrinking in size. Of course, it wasn’t permanent. Eva learned to sleep eventually, and to walk and eat and use a toilet, and, now that she was a robust and energetic five-year-old, Taryn was more like herself than she’d been in years.

Still. That first year, though.

Time and time again, Cardan and I would exchange glances while Eva squealed and squalled. It was always a silent No, thank you, please passing between us. We’re just fine without, thank you. Between the battle for the crown and undoing a curse, we’d had quite enough excitement, and so I eagerly welcomed Vivi regularly smuggling me little moon-shaped packets of pink pills from the mortal world. I took them each morning, like clockwork, with relish – it meant I could enjoy my freedom, our freedom as long as I wanted.

I’m not sure what happened in me. One day, I was calling it freedom. The next, it felt like an empty vessel.

We’d gone to visit Taryn and Eva at their estate for a summer solstice brunch. Vivi and Heather had come, and The Ghost was there, too, swapping stories and laughing with Vivi. I’d stepped out onto the terrace to call in Eva for food when I’d spotted Cardan. He was helping Eva climb up a tree, holding her hand while she balanced on a branch. Her wild fox hair was blowing in the late morning breeze that carried her giggle up to the house. Then she leapt at him with a delighted squeal, and he caught her and spun her around so that she squealed some more. And that look of sheer joy on his face when she did. His unguarded laugh echoed up through the grassy hills. I felt my heart crack open.

No, thank you, please suddenly felt very unadvised.

“What have I done to deserve such a face?” Cardan asked me, leaving a lingering kiss close to my ear. I guess I was looking a little amorous when he and Eva came inside. Little Eva was trotting off to the kitchens as I wound my fingers against the buttons of Cardan’s doublet, keeping him close for a moment longer.

“You looked happy,” I said as his hands slid around my waist. I looked up into his dark eyes, warm only for me, and saw he was smiling. “You looked like you liked doing fatherly things.”

He pulled me a little closer, a little tighter.

“I think I did,” he admitted, perhaps hardly believing it himself.

And then it happened. The unspoken shift, the change in the air. It seemed to crackle in the space between our gaze, and it took a fair bit of restraint to not pull him into the nearest coat closet and tear off his clothes. Taryn was calling us anyway. The servants had set the table, and no one would be seated until we had taken our chairs, even in this little family arrangement. Taryn was set on Eva learning courtly manners by example.

Courtly manners. By example. Taryn had the best intentions for Eva, but the phrases make me snort even now while I peruse baby clothes in Target. What example did we set in Faerie? One of murder and deceit and betrayal and lewd behavior.

The same day that I’d watched Cardan play with Eva, he abruptly ended dinner in the palace’s great hall to hoist me into his arms and carry me out, away from every one’s gaze, away from even the guards.

“What has gotten into you?” I kicked my feet and pounded at his shoulders – not particularly hard. Look, I’m not going to pretend this isn’t a game now. I could cause damage if I wanted to. I don’t.

Cardan set me on my feet, only to seize my waist in one arm. We stumbled into an alcove in the wall as his head dipped to my neck, his other hand catching us against the wall. Delighted shivers danced down my arms as his lips brushed the spot below my ear, and I couldn’t hold back a gasp.

“You couldn’t lie to me now even if you wanted to, wife,” Cardan murmured, kissing my ear. He wasn’t wrong. I ran my hands up his deep blue velvet doublet to his shoulders, and bent into his embrace. His hands began to roam my waist, my hips, pulling at my skirts.

“I’ll tell you whatever you like if you’ll keep doing this,” I whispered back, flushing. When he pulled back from my throat, there was a wicked, sneaking smile on his reddening lips.

“You don’t despise the thought of bearing my children,” he said, like it’s a revelation. I blinked. Had he been thinking about our previous exchange all day?

“I despise the thought of bearing any children,” I clarified. “It’s not some honor unique to you.”

Cardan gasped as if he was wounded.

“You could not have cut me deeper,” he teased, as I wound my fingers into the soft hair at the nape of his neck. “I thought I was special.”

“You are,” I said, tugging at his hair. “Because if I’m to bear any children at all, I would like them to be yours.”  

The smile that spread over his face then was far from wicked. Cardan was flushed and delighted in a way few got to see, and his arms squeezed around me, lifting me to him as he crushed his lips to mine.

“Cardan,” I laughed against his fevered kisses, my cheeks hurting. “I didn’t mean right this second.”

His lips were swollen when he pulled back, the pupils of his gold-rimmed eyes blown wide.

“Then practice with me,” he said, his breathing ragged. “Like swordplay. You’re always saying I’m rubbish at practicing.”

“You really are,” I gasped against his mouth.

In the last five years, I’ve grown no better at resisting the pull of his desire. If anything, I’m only worse. I couldn’t think straight there in his arms. I wanted to drown in his contagious idealism. I wanted to be set aflame by his soft lips and his body against mine.

With my arms thrown over his shoulders, his lips slid against mine, over and over, our hearts pounding in time together. And then he lifted me off my toes so that he could push us both through our bedchamber door.

A shoe slipped from my foot, and he stumbled over it, kicked it to the side, without releasing my waist. Only when the back of my legs pressed against the bedframe did he pull back from my mouth, breathless. And then he pushed me back onto the bed.

I stretched out on the lush duvet, my whole body thrumming as my heart battered my ribcage. But when I looked up at his face there at the foot of the bed, his expression had darkened in the candlelight.

“What is it?” I pushed myself up to my elbows. “Why are you stopping?”

Cardan suddenly looked as if he was at war with himself. Even though his chest still heaved, he inched to the bed and stepped back again, his dark brows furrowing together.

“Cardan…?” I sat up, alarmed at his hesitation.

“Do you think I would be any good at it?” he blurted out. “At being a father,” he clarified, and winced as if he already knew and hated the answer.

I slid to the edge of the bed and reached for his belt. Pulled him closer.

“You are as equipped for the task as I am,” I said, looking up at him with what I hoped was a provocative smile. He slid his long fingers into my hair, and I needed him closer. “If you’re terrible at it, then I will probably be worse.”

I meant it in jest. He’d always liked this side of me before, my dark, warped cruelty. But this time, his fingers tightened suddenly in my hair.

“Shit.” The word slid out of him like it was being dragged. His hands dropped from my hair, and he stepped back to look at me. He drew in a sharp breath.

“You think I would be a terrible father,” he said, which was hardly fair. That wasn’t what I said at all. I sighed hard, ruing the direction this was going – further from the bed.

“I think neither one of us knows what a good father looks like,” I said. Cardan only gave a painful chuckle.

“We are both quite familiar with terrible fathers,” he said. “I think you, of anyone, would be able to recognize a terrible father when you saw one.”

“And that is the last time you will compare yourself to Madoc,” I said, in horror. “If that is the standard for terrible fathers, then you’re angelic.”

But Cardan gave me a look of slit-eyed skepticism, so I stood from the bed and stepped to him.

“And, really, what does it matter right now?” I asked, lowly, holding a hand to his face. He leaned against it. I was almost ready to start begging. “I am not falling pregnant tonight. We have time to learn these things, if we want to learn them at all.” I lifted onto my tip toes, brushing my lips to the hollow of his cheek.

“Just come to bed,” I whispered there, and I saw his eyes fall shut, his dark lashes against his sharp cheekbones, as he turned to meet the slant of my lips.

“I want to be good at it,” he murmured against my mouth, as I dragged him toward the bed.

“Then you will be,” I insisted just before he cradled the back of my neck, sinking into our kiss as we tipped toward the mattress.

We have time. It’s an easy lie to tell when you’re in Faerie. Time stretches on, limitless and unending. There shouldbe time, endless amounts of time, to learn all you need to know – about anything. There should be time to become the person you’d always wanted to be.

I had had two months since that first conversation. Even less time since the others. In Faerie, that’s hardly a lunch hour.

I am reeling. I’m in Target with a red basket full of prenatal vitamins and snacks and pregnancy books, and I am absolutely reeling.

After I check out, I find Cardan sitting on the curb with a Starbucks bag that’s the size of a large gift bag and two venti Frappuccinos. The one he’s nursing is strawberry-pink and looks full of cream.

“They didn’t have wine,” he tells me, handing me mine. It’s drizzled in caramel, and I’m not sure it’s what I would have ordinarily chosen, but right now, it smells perfect.

“Probably for the best,” I say, and hazard a glance at his expression. It’s dark and troubled again as he squints against the sunlight. His legs are drawn up, and he’s resting his elbows on his knees, like he’s hunched under a weight. Reality’s given him a hard jolt since he kissed me in front of the newborn onesies.

I take a long sip of the Frappuccino through the green straw.

“Cardan, if you don’t want to do this--” I start, and his head jerks up.

“I have always wanted this,” he snaps, looking defensive, and then he’s looking at his boots again.

“Okay.” I sit back, extending my legs.

How do I do this? I have no blueprint for this. Floundering, there’s only one rope I know to pull, the one that’s always saved us: honesty.

So, I go on.

“I’m terrified, too,” I say. I spread the yellow fabric of my sundress over my knees. “If that’s any consolation. I think I’ll be happy eventually, but right now, I’m completely freaking out. I can hardly form a coherent thought. How many cake pops did you get?” I cock my head at the large Starbucks bag.

Cardan shifts it in my direction.

“All of them,” he says, glumly.

I raise my eyebrows as I peer in the bag. Oak will be excited, at least.

“I hate myself for being so terrified of a thing I desperately want.” I look up at Cardan’s confession to see his face twisted in loathing, and my heart twists right along with it. I know this pain, the agony of fearing what you love.

I could lie to him; I probably should. I should tell him right now that I know without a shadow of a doubt he will be a perfect father, that he’s beyond everything that had been done to him, that none of it had ever touched me either. But I don’t lie to him anymore.

Instead, I hand him a cake pop.

“That strikes me as a waste of energy,” I say, and nudge him with a coy smile. “There are so many other things you could hate yourself for.”

He gives me a wicked smirk and, instead of taking the cake pop I’ve offered, he seizes my other wrist and takes a large bite out of the one I’d claimed for myself. Feigning exasperation, I stab at him with the leftover stick.

“Does this not strike you as problematic?” he asks a moment later, his cheek still full of cake.

“Yes.” I reply with a stoic nod. “The fact that you just ate a pregnant lady’s cake pop is both striking andproblematic.”

“I mean this repartee you and I enjoy.” He wipes at a bit of icing at the corner of his mouth with his thumb. “A child ought to know his father loves his mother and vice versa, should he not? I would think that sort of thing helps.”

I feel the heartbreak behind his words as if it were my own. In his mind, he’s now on an endless search for every moment in his childhood that went wrong, every little action he ought to do the opposite of. I know. My mind’s been doing it, too.

I scoot a little closer, nearing his warmth, so that I can lean against him. He rests his head on top of mine.

“But you’re my nemesis,” I say, softly.

“Jude,” he says it like he’s scolding. “Not in front of the children.”

“Do not say ‘children’.” I jab him again as he presses his lips to the top of my head. “Your wishes are too powerful, and there is room in here for only one.”

Cardan’s slipped an arm around me, and I tilt my head back to look at him. The corner of his mouth is tugging upwards, slyly.

“Tell me I’m too powerful again,” he murmurs as he kisses my cheek.

“Later,” I promise, and I reach for another cake pop.

There will be time for all that later.

It’s a lie I get used to telling.

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

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[elenamiria]

Training

Darth Maul x Reader

Requested Fic - Anon Said:  Hi! can i request a fic where maul teaches his s/o to use the force? (Requests are open - If you’ve requested a fic check the status here )

Word Count: 1.1k Warnings: fluff, gn reader, kisses Hi anon!! I hope you enjoy this fic, I had a lot of fun writing it 🥰 Masterlist  -- Tags: @blxwjobsforclones​, @a-dorin​, @fishswimbetterunderwater​, @lynnie51​

You wanted to scream. You had been desperately trying to use the force in any capacity - floating an object, pushing said object away, pulling it closer - and all of your attempts were failing miserably. You let your hand dropped from its raised position as you grumbled to yourself. A silky smooth voice interrupted your ramblings, "I've been looking for you all over, starshine. What are you doing out here?"

You turned to face your boyfriend, the red and black Zabrak strolled towards you a questioning look on his face. You sighed, embarrassed that you'd been caught.

He was the one who had figured out you were force sensitive, having told you how special you were and that he could help you learn the ways of the force if you so chose. You denied your abilities at first but you were so entranced by the beautiful stranger that you agreed to come live with him in the Sundari Royal Palace, leaving your life on the streets of Mandalore behind. Several months passed as you and Maul grew closer until one day he confessed to you that he craved more than just your friendship and you were thrilled finding your feelings were reciprocated. Now, close to a year after you had come to the palace, you had finally agreed to let Maul teach you the ways of the force. However, you were finding it much harder than anticipated. That’s why you had snuck away to try and master something, anything, to show Maul that you were capable.

As your face flushed you quietly muttered, "I was practicing." Maul smiled knowingly at your admission, he always could read you like a book - "How was that going?"

You glared up at him fairly certain he knew the answer, before you could retort at him he responded once again. "Let me help you. I can sense your frustration, your anger, and while I do encourage that to strengthen the force once you have a hold of it, the opposite approach is true for basics. Sit down with me, will you?"

He sank to the ground, his mechanical legs folding under him, spread wide enough that you could sit in between them. You did just that, shivering and sliding further against Maul's chest as the coldness of the ground sunk through your clothes. Once he was sure you were settled his hands lightly grasped your wrists and he instructed you to close your eyes, voice soft in your ear. 

You obeyed, letting the world go dark around you as your eyelids fluttered shut. Maul then whispered to you to follow his breathing, an easy task as your back was pressed against his chest. You easily mimicked the steady, deep in and out breaths that the Dathomirian behind you took. As you relaxed and your mind emptied thoughts only focused on your breaths, Maul's whisper pierced your consciousness. "There do you feel it, right on the edge of your mind. The thrumming that's surrounding you, me, and everything. That's the force."

You felt your head nod though it felt like you weren't in control, you felt as if you were floating, as you murmured, "Yes, I feel it." "Good, now let it in, feel it surround you."

You did your best to relax as much as possible and let the feeling swirling on the periphery of your conscious in. Maul was right, your frustrations were breaking your connection to the force. As you felt it surround you Maul raised your hand and instructed, "Now reach out, feel others in the force. Feel me, feel that crate over there that you were trying to push away earlier, feel the creatures surrounding us. Tell me what you feel."

You reached out first sensing Maul at your back, "I can feel you, you're...warm, glowing, but there's a darkness there too, deep within. I sense it in me as well. I feel...the tree there to the left of us, I can sense it's roots spreading all around."

You swept around the courtyard to your front, where the pesky box lay, "I can sense the box though I don't feel anything from it."

"That's because the box isn't a living thing, starshine. However, you can use the force to manipulate your surroundings, try to pull it towards us." His hand never left your wrist, guiding your hand to reach out more directly at the box. You focused on the object using the force to scoot it ever so slightly towards you, grunting quietly in concentration. You could feel yourself growing frustrated again as the box merely twitched. You focused on your breathing and tried again, your breathing grew labored as you tugged on the box and at this point you couldn't even tell if you were succeeding in your task. Letting your frustrations overwhelm you, you shoved your hand forward slightly - breaking out of Maul's grasp - as you gave up and flopped back into your boyfriend.

"I can't do it, it's impossible!" you exclaimed as you allowed your eyes to slide open, staring up at him. One of Maul's deep chuckles vibrated against your back as he gave you a small smile. "Did you even look at the box, or did you simply grow too impatient with yourself in perceived failure."

Your brow furrowed and you turned to look at the box or rather you looked at where the box should be, it was missing from its previous location and you looked around bewildered. You spotted it several feet back from where it had initially started and you groaned. "Maul, I did the opposite of what I was supposed to do. So, I'd definitely call that a failure."

Pulling away from you Maul stood up, leaving you to shiver at the loss of his heat. He offered his hand to you as he spoke, "Even though you didn't pull the item towards us, it had to end up that far away somehow. Now didn't it?"

As you took his hand, allowing him to pull you upright, you paused. And then your eyes lit up in excitement. "You mean I pushed it all the way back!!"

Maul smiled down at you as your happiness grew, "I did it! I moved something with the force!!" Despite your joy warming you a strong wind whipped past you and your whole body shivered. Maul wrapped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close.

"You did well starshine, just like I knew you would. However, I must insist that we go inside. I wouldn't want you to fall sick, if you like we shall practice more after we warm you up."

You couldn't help but notice the proud gaze he bestowed upon you and as you grinned up at him and nodded, "I would like that very much, Maul."

Just before you walked through the doors the Zabrak paused. Leaning down to capture your lips in a soft kiss and as he broke apart he tenderly murmured, "My star, together we're going to be unstoppable."