#it fits so well it's almost uncanny and i want to scream | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

wilt3d-r0zes · 1 year ago

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Fic Name (and link): A Fox is a Wolf who sends Flowers Series: Teen Wolf Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall, Melissa McCall, The Nogitsune Pairings: N/A Trigger Warnings: Standard Season 3b TWs Important Tags: Spark/Magic Stiles Stilinski, Slow Updates, Season Rewrite Summary:

"Do not meddle more, Mieczysław. We will wait." The world tilts, the white fading into grey to black. His bed seems to reach up and yank him downwards until suddenly he’s screaming himself awake in the early hours of the morning. Or, The Nogitsune is not what it seems, and also sassy

Official Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.com/wilt3d_r0zes/a-fox-is-a-wolf-who-brings-flowers/

Official Acronym: FWSF

Official Spotify Playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6mqurPYscPgQacj4VpKfeH

The key he found on his keyring fits into the chemistry door. It isn’t that he didn’t expect it, but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t hopeful. Hopeful that maybe it’s just a coincidence, that maybe he got paint on his fingers and they got on the key sometime at the rave, or maybe someone tried to steal it with paint or chemicals on their fingers, and only managed to grab it but not take it.

But no, the chemistry closet door responds well to the mystery key on his keyring. He stares at the now cracked-open closet door. Surely not. There’s no way, maybe someone put it on his keyring somehow, somewhere, somewhen without him realizing, to frame him for it.

Right?

(He’s losing his mind again.)

He turns back to the blackboard, to the riddle still written in chalk for their teacher to wipe away the next morning. Stares at it in hopeful, frail denial and listens to his sneakers squeak on the tiled floors.

(He thought it was over.)

Picking up the chalk reveals just how shaky his hands really are, when it almost falls and shatters on the floor upon being picked up. His fingers don’t want to hold it like he’s telling them to, but he manages to write on the board anyways.

(He thought he was free.)

It’s the same handwriting.

…

Transition

He’s waking up in his bed.

He’s waking up in his bed?

Why is he in his bed?

He’s not in his bed.

Well, technically he’s in his bed, but when he looks up and explores the room with his eyes it’s that same weird all-white parking garage-esk room he remembers from the sacrifice they did to find their parents. His bed isn’t the only furniture in the 'room,' however. His desk is in the same spot it would be if he were in his room, except there’s someone sitting in the chair, reading through a book he doesn’t recognize.

The first thing he notices is that their head is wrapped in old, browning bandages with dried blood and dirt soaking through some of the less wrapped areas or the crevices. It fills him with an uncanny feeling of discomfort and fear that grips his heart and shakes it. Still, he looks around again before saying, "Hi?"

His voice cracks enough for him to wince and clear his throat. Logically, he knows this is a dream-- what else could it be? So it doesn't matter if he angers this weird creation of his subconscious. Yet, he's filled with a level of fear that feels disproportionate to Some Dude sitting on the other side of a non-existent room.

"Hello?" he calls again when he gets no response, the being at his desk slowly turning the page of an old book made up from tarnished leather and browning parchment, "Where am I?"

"Where dreams are made and come to die, clear or full will it be," he(? The voice is masculine, so is the build he can make out from around the chair and under the brown bomber jacket) rasps. Man. Stiles hates riddles.

“Uh, okay, that… makes no sense. Who are you?”

“Watagushi, na ke de wa nai.” He responds, and it doesn't take a genius to realize that that wasn't English. Considering the only other language Stiles knows is Polish, and it certainly isn't that either, he decides it's something made up by his brain-- or, maybe it was a language Stiles knows and was just muddled by the bandages, surely those go all around his face?

"Sorry, didn't quite catch that, man," the human responds, sitting up full in his bed from where he'd barely propped himself on one arm.

“Kore wa wa re ran ogu tu na no cha.”

"Still not a language I know."

The man(?) turns another page in the book, and this time it creates a horrible, gut-wrenching ripping sound, that screams into Stiles's ears and drowns out the rest of the world regardless of the lacking sounds of life. When the page is carefully released, Stiles is left with ringing ears, “Not ‘Who are you?’, Mieczysław, ‘Who are we?’”

"What the hell was that?" he squawks, fumbling to get out of the bed. He can't move his legs, though, in what he assumes is dream logic. Somewhere in his brain he thinks it's because he's tangled in the blanket.

"We were getting too close." Mummy Man responds, voice growing no less raspy despite how much he's talking. Stiles almost wishes this is the kinda lucid dream he can control, just so he could summon a glass of water.

"Who's we?"

“We are us. I am we, you are we,” he sounds like he’s thinking, tilting his head to the side and looking up from the book, “We are meddling, we need to stop.”

Stiles stares. What? That makes no sense. Actually, that makes less than no sense, even his not-english-polish gibberish had made more sense than that. Yet, he's filled with fear at the statement. He thinks back to what he was doing just before this dream, the chalkboard, the chemistry closet--

This must be what's causing that. The part of his subconsious or brain or whatever that's doing that, killing people. Even if indirectly. He saying that he is Stiles, and that Stiles is meddling in his plans of murder.

"No!" Stiles yells, struck with a startling amount of indignant anger, "I'm not just gonna sit- sit idly by while you kill people!"

The Mummy Man turns slowly, an unnatural creak, not unlike the sound of a rusty door hinge, following the movement. He reveals his 'face', something obscured by bandages save for what can only pass as being described as a mouth. It's a gaping hole in the bandages, with teeth and tongue and black goop. Blood and black stain the bandages surrounding it, like he'd eaten something alive and not tried to clean himself up after. He doesn't even have any lips.

More fear surges through him, warring with the anger for a place in his actions.

"In due time, Mieczysław."

"You using my name is fucking weird, Mummy Man," Stiles snarls, drawn back into himself and pushed to the far side of the bed like the mere foot of extra distance will save him.

"Do not meddle more, Mieczysław. We will wait."

The world tilts, the white fading into grey to black. His bed seems to reach up and yank him downwards until suddenly he’s screaming himself awake in the early hours of the morning.

…

Silver finger

“Scott, hey!” Stiles skids to a stop, only to grab his best friend by the elbow and drag him down the hallway, free hand waving about as he starts talking, “Remember the key I was telling you about yesterday? Well, when we were at that rave I was talking to Caitlin– the girl who's girlfriend died recently– and when I pulled out the bottle opener I’ve got she saw the key and, apparently, it had phosphors on it- which means it glows in blacklight, right?- and then I asked why I would have phosphors on my key and she asked if I’d been handling chemicals and so that got me thinking about the chemistry closet,” he rambles, pushing open the chemistry classroom door and taking in a gasp of air, shaking out that same free hand, “And the fact that someone had to let Barrow in, and once I got here the key worked on the door and–.”

He wilts. The blackboard had been erased.

“It’s gone,” he knows he sounds unreasonably defeated, bumping his palms together anxiously before spinning on his heel from where he’d gotten halfway across the room, “Well, that’s fine, I still have the key and– what the hell?” The key’s gone from his keyring now. It makes him think back to that weird, stupid dream he had last night. Was that real? Did the other in his head really take action in getting him to stop meddling? “I had it. I had it, right here,” he holds his keyring up and shakes it for effect, the sound rattling almost painfully around his skull, “I swear to god, I had it here this morning.”

“The key you were talking about last night?” Scott has that very confused, lost puppy dog look on his face and in normal circumstances Stiles would laugh at how easy it is to compare his werewolf best friend to a puppy, but instead he’s starting to verge on a panic attack so he just keeps talking.

“Yes! Yeah, that, I showed it to you, didn’t I? Please tell me I showed it to you.”

Scott’s head shake makes his chest squeeze painfully, “No, you told me about it but… I never actually saw it.”

“I was here, Scott! And just a few hours ago I unlocked the chemistry closet door and there was Kira’s name in atomic numbers in my handwriting on the blackboard.”

“So… you unlocked the chemistry closet so Barrow could hide from the police, and then you wrote him a message telling him to kill Kira?” He sounds so beyond disbelieving and it’s not helping Stiles in feeling like any of this was real. He glances down at his hands, wanting to count his fingers in the way he’s started doing too many times for too many days. That’ll just make him look more nuts.

“I know how it sounds, Scott, but– but look at this!” he scrambles to pull the news report he brought with him for extra proof, hands beyond shaky and nearly ripping it on its violent trip out of the bag, “This is the news report that came out about Barrow when they caught him, okay? About the shrapnel bomb that he used. See this, see what he did? He put nuts, bolts, and screws, and then he hid the bomb and the detonator in a box that he wrapped as a birthday present. What does that sound like to you?”

“Coach… It sounds like the joke we played on Coach.”

“That was my idea, remember? That was my idea, that can’t be a coincidence, it can’t be.”

Scott winces, gesturing vaguely for Stiles to quiet down. The human blushes, not even realizing how loud he’d gotten in his growing panic, “I don’t want to tell you that you’re wrong, but I don’t think you’re trying to kill anybody either.”

“It was here,” he runs a hand through his hair and turned back towards the board, “It was all here.”

“Dude… are you feeling okay?”

(He’s losing his mind again, please, please, he thought he was better.)

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just… haven’t been sleeping well.”

“Why don’t you go home?” Stiles turns back around, confused, “Take a sick day?”

“...Yeah, yeah,” he sighs– again, “Yeah, maybe I will.”

(He thought it was over.)

…

“Well, Dr. Gardner’s not back until next week. Do you want to try and wait for one of the other Urgent Care doctors, or…?” Stiles shakes his head, pushing off from the desk and trying to keep from losing himself. He’d come here straight from the school, because he feels like he’s falling apart and some part of him urged to come here, “Stiles? Are you okay?”

His eyes sting with tears and he feels like there’s a dull knife sawing away at whatever is keeping him from going nuts and getting locked up in Eichan House. He brings a hand up to his chest and thumps it against his ribcage, like it’ll slow down his heart rate if he shows it how to work, “I guess, uhm,” thump, thump, thump, “I guess not really?

“Alright,” it’s the way that she says it that makes Stiles want to melt to the floor and cry, while simultaneously making him want to lash out at the way she sounds like she’s handling a feral cat, “Alright, kiddo, come with me.”

He feels like his limbs are going to fall out from under him while they walk through the halls until she stops outside a door, giving him the chance to shake out his hands and rock back on his heels.

She gestures for him to sit on the bed while she grabs a clipboard, “Can you tell me your symptoms?” she glances towards him, then back towards the papers on the clipboard. He’s rocking in place, arms crossed over his empty-feeling chest and flexing his hands to keep from freaking out.

“Blackouts,” he clears his throat and looks away, “But not for that long. Uhm, and sleepwalking, which I used to do a lot as a kid. Some really bad anxiety, too.”

“Panic attacks?”

“Yeah, a couple,” he breathes shakily and it feels like he’s electrocuted his heart in the way it races, “I also temporarily lost the ability to read but, uhm, that might’ve had more to do with the whole human sacrifice and- magic tree thing.”

Melissa is looking at him with an amused smile when he glances over at her and the paper she’s still writing on, “I seem to vaguely remember something like that, yes.” she looks back towards her paper when he doesn’t respond or react, “How many hours of sleep are you getting?”

“Eight.”

“A night?”

“In the last three days.”

He sees her turn to him with the kinda face he usually associates with him having done something wrong in his peripherals, but he’s looking down at his hands and counting on his fingers, cataloging all the times he woke up from nightmares and each night he stayed up until the sun rose only to pass out in class.

“Have you been feeling irritable?”

“Yeah, uhm, possibly to the point of homicide.”

“Inability to focus?”

“No, the adderall’s not working.”

“Impulsive behavior?”

“More than my usual? Hard to tell.”

“Vivid dreams during the day?”

He huffs nervously, “Okay, basically all of the above. Do you know what it is?”

(Please be something normal. Please.)

“I think so,” she turns away, setting the pen down with a deafeningly loud tap that reminds Stiles he’s been in sensory overload for the last twenty-four hours and it’s been slowly dragging him further into the pit of insanity.

He shakes his head, feels his brain rattle around, and then looks up towards Melissa and the needle in her hand, “What’s that?”

“Do you trust me?”

“When you’re not holding a needle.” and when his mind isn’t slipping through his fingers like old jell-o.

Still, he doesn’t stop her when she wipes his upper arm down with an alcohol wipe and sticks it into his skin, “It’s midazolam. A sedative.”

More panic tries to spark, his lungs quivering and his rocking resuming once she’s removed the needle and he can self-soothe again. What if this isn’t real? What if he’s hallucinating again and really he’s acting nuts and this is his hallucination telling him he’s being sedated? “Why are you giving me a sedative?”

“Because you, Stiles, are one profoundly sleep-deprived young man. You need rest, and you need it now.” she puts her arms on his shoulders, effectively stopping his rocking, “Lie down.”

He stares at her, because now it feels like reality is far away and nothing is quite real, like it’s taking years for everything to process while simultaneously not even taking a second, “How long’s it going to take to–,” she pushes him back and he falls with the light pressure, losing the ability to hold himself up with the sudden exhaustion that ripples over him, “Oh. Not long at all.”

“Get some rest, Stiles,” he hears, before reality slips between his fingers.

(Thanks, mom.)

…

It’s startlingly dark when he comes to, wide awake, in the hospital room however long later. The blinds are shut on all the windows but it’s still obvious the sun has set, leaving him in almost pitch black.

At least, it would’ve, but there seems to be a yellow-ish green light coming from somewhere in the room. There’re little specks of opaque something floating in the air, like how you'd see dust particles in a camera. His first thought is that maybe this is another dream, and it makes it that much harder to force himself to sit up.

Instead, he clenches his hands and counts them without looking at them.

(One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine- ten.)

He sits up.

On the folded heavy blanket at the foot of his bed, there’s a fox curled up. It’s not a real fox, no, it’s more like the shape of one made out of yellow-green neon lines. He furrows his brows at it, counting his fingers in the dark again.

(One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten.)

It moves. One of its ears twitches. Once, twice, and then it slowly blinks its eyes open. There are two startlingly black dots where its iris and pupil should (probably) be, and they lock onto Stiles.

They stare at each other for a long moment in silence. The restless fidgeting and stimming that Stiles is almost always doing slows to a still while they stare at each other, completely unmoving.

Then it blinks, and its ear twitches again. It turns towards the door, pushing itself into a sitting position.

“They are coming.”

Stiles jolts, breaking out of his trance with a surge of panic, “Who?”

“We are in danger. We must not be caught.”

“Who’s we?”

“They are coming.”

Stiles looks towards the door, and counts his fingers again.

(One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten.)

“What do you want me to do?”

It’s weird, the way he knows it's the fox speaking into his mind. The way he doesn’t feel confused or alarmed by this creature, like it’s something he’s gone through hundreds of times–

Something familiar.

“Do not let them touch us.”

“Who’s us?”

“We.”

The fox turns back to him and stares. The statement itself reminds Stiles of the dream - the one with the mummy man. The way he connected it to a potential part of him that aided the mass murderer– maybe it’s something more than that. Something supernatural.

Maybe that’s why there’s a fox here, in reality and not a dream, talking to him in his brain. That means the fox is talking about him, and not itself.

“How do I do that? Who are we talking about?”

“They will come out of the shadows.” the fox rasps into his brain, turning back towards the door, “Bide our time. He will help us.”

“Who’s he?”

“The wolf. He will hide us.”

Stiles looks back at the door, at the closed blinds that hide the light from the hallway. “Should I stay here?”

“There is only one exit.”

“That’s a no then, got it,” he pushes the blanket off himself, disturbing the fox into hopping onto the table by the foot of the bed. It leaps onto his shoulders as he passes by, startling him in the fact it seems to have a weight despite being nothing but a spirit-like creature.

The hallway is empty. Shockingly so, he remembers hospitals always being so overpopulated by nurses and doctors in every hallway. Yet, it’s silent. Not even the sounds of patients in the neighboring rooms reach his ears, and it draws unease into Stiles’s chest.

“Melissa?” he calls, as if she’ll suddenly appear from wherever it is she is. Possibly at home, maybe on the other side of the hospital. Of course, she doesn’t appear, leaving him alone in the hallway with a ghost fox on his shoulders.

He stays close to the wall, praying that the fox is watching his back because it’s going to drive him nuts to keep looking back and forth with the groggy remnants of sleep and a sedative still dragging him down.

Only the faint buzzing sound of fluorescent lights that he normally wouldn’t notice unless already in sensory overload is heard in the hallways. It’s almost funny, actually, how once you hit sensory overload your brain just collects more sensory input for you to notice. Why is that?

He pushes open a door and it brushes against the ground but doesn’t creak at the hinges like he expected it to. It feels like he’s in a horror movie when the double swinging door reveals a small, dark hallway.

“We should turn back.”

“Yeah, agreed,” Stiles backs up, letting the door swing shut, “If they come out of the shadows, does that mean we’re safe if we stay in the light?”

“Without shadow, there is no light.”

“Okay, then what’s the point of avoiding the creepy hallway?” he gestures behind himself toward the doors he’s actively walking away from. He’s moved away from the wall, now standing in the center and under the lights, hopefully giving him enough space to avoid whatever when it ‘comes from the shadows.’

(Why exactly is he following the instructions of a weird ghost fox that appeared after he woke up from a sedative?)

“More light means less shadows, it is harder to reach us in this light.”

“Got it,” he swings around a corner, pushing open another door and thankfully revealing a lit hallway. He makes it about four steps in before the fox on his shoulder pushes itself into a sitting position, ears perking up and mentally alerting Stiles to a threat.

“They found us.”

“Well, that’s not ominous at all,” he lowers his voice, turning in a slow circle and surveying the area. Nothing has appeared yet, but he can hear a quiet grumbling coming from the walls. When he squints at them, the shadows almost look like they’re shimmering. Something seems to tap, tap on the shadowed wall, and it ripples like when you throw a pebble into water.

A gloved – is that a glove? or is it bunched up skin? -- hand reaches out in a sharp, singular movement before halting just below the wrist. Stiles startles backwards, signaling him to turn around and see two more hands coming from the wall behind him.

“Shit. How likely am I to die if I run out the door?”

“The wolf is waiting.”

“Not very, then, awesome,” he stumbles over his shoeless feet, socks sliding on the tiled floors uselessly, but successfully makes it out of the creepy room and into the next hallway. He looks both ways, still seeing no nurses or doctors and being invited into an eerie silence punctuated by buzzing lights and growling walls. Internally, he feels a nudge, and turns on his heel toward the left.

He’s sprinted halfway down the hall when Scott turns the corner ahead of him, “Scott!” he shouts, sliding to a stop and looking back at the way he came to see a trio of black clad beings with swords and weird masks that he can’t make out the details of.

“Stiles! Mom said you were asleep!” Scott breaks into a jog, if his sped up footsteps have anything to say, before he appears in the side of Stiles’ vision.

“I woke up,” he flashes a grin.

“We do not have time for this.”

The creatures take a step forward, so he grabs Scott’s wrist to start dragging him away, “We should go!”

“No, wait,” Scott sounds startlingly calm for the actively approaching demons in front of him, “...Why are they after you?”

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velvet-apricots · 1 year ago

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An expert of my fic "Little Mistress" of Gideon interacting with Marika, queen eternal. Miquella is there too.

They returned to the capitol, and Gideon went directly to the queen himself.

He had been dealing with the God Queen for longer than most. Marika had fits of paranoia at times, and he was quite good at sniffing traitors out. This whole thing was because of that. The village was filled with women who had been ‘slighted’ by her, simply for doing the will of the Greater Will. So she wanted to know what was there, if the odd behavior of the village was a plot against her.

Well, it was a whole lot of nothing. They seemed very pleased to have soldiers of the capitol there after all. There was no animosity whatsoever. Besides, the village wasn’t very big. If they did hate her, it was nothing a few soldiers could deal with.

“I believe they are simply preparing their usual celebration and made a passing local nervous.” Gideon said, leaning on his scepter and keeping his head low. Queen Marika was braiding the hair of Miquella, who sat stiffly. The boy was… Well he was no longer a boy despite the looks, but his mother treated him no differently now then she did when he really was a boy. “They have their own little pagan customs, and the lack of men I wager made it seem strange.”

Marika made no indication she heard him, slowly braiding her youngest son’s hair. Gideon however made no move to leave until he was dismissed, lest he anger her.

He briefly wondered if he should mention the fact someone was toying around with Black Flame incantations. Of course that could very easily end in a bloodbath, like the Nomads. One vile man screamed heresy, and then all of them were buried alive. Gideon almost shuddered at the fate they had befallen. No, he had no desire to be responsible for the whole of the windmill villages getting eradicated. What was one teenager playing with black flame? It didn’t matter..

She finally looked up at him, golden eyes peeking through her golden hair. “Go to the celebration.”

“I promise you, my Queen that-”

“I demand ye go as a pleasantry for thyself, Sir Ofnir, not to spy.” She looked back down, tying the braid off, “Thou works too hard and long. My eyes and ears beyond these walls must remain healthy, soul and body.”

Gideon awkwardly cleared his throat. Well that was… Unexpected. It seemed her mood was fair that day. Not that she was cruel usually, but her moods over the long, long centuries had grown more erratic and dower, and the care she had for her disciples had lessened. She now cared more for her children than anything else. The fact she noticed he was overworked was quite… Touching?

Then again, she usually was a little more aware and at ease when around her favored children. Nothing made her a picture of contentment like the presence of Godwyn the Golden on her arm, or the prodigy Miquella in her lap.

Moreover, If she demanded it… Gideon had no way to refuse. For all he knew, she was not satisfied and wanted him to poke around more. The celebration was an excellent cover.

“Erm… yes. I will go… Do you wish for me to-?”

She lifted her hand and waved Gideon off sharply, and Miquella stared at him with an uncanny, wide eyed stare. If the boy was pleading to leave with him, he was looking to the wrong person for salvation.

He left quickly, letting out a relieved sigh as he leaned heavily on his scepter, both hands grasping it desperately. Years ago he would not be so rattled by the queen’s presence, but her continued decline and his own increasing age made things fall into perspective. He would much rather live a few decades more than anger her. He was actually not very old at all. Despite the teasing his men tossed at him, he was still a middle aged man.

Granted, he was not one to give his age away. He made himself seem more feeble than he was. It made would-be enemies underestimate his skills.

#elden ring #gideon ofnir #queen marika

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demetriandelibinaryboyfriends · 2 months ago

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YOOOOO shout-out to the art that was so baller it singlehandedly inspired me to visit Sue in the flesh!!!

Yes, that's right, ladies and gentlemen--the living, breathing human behind this account (yes, there is one, shockingly--I honestly wouldn't blame anyone for thinking I'm an abstract manifestation of Elimetri fangirling that somehow willed itself into existence) really went "well, if my fictional gay little karate boys think dinosaur is so cool, then I'm sure I will ALSO think dinosaur is so cool!!!" AND SURE ENOUGH, DINOSAUR WAS SO COOL.

Like, yes, granted, I was going to Chicago anyways, but the field museum side trip was 100% inspired by this art and this art alone, god bless!!! And tbh??? Best fuckin decision I've ever made, because NOTHING was more delightful than @baldwinboy5ive's unending glee at my museum visit livestream!!! I was grinning the whole time because of your hype, and it made my whole fucken day 💚🦖

But anyways!!!

I love how dead convinced we are that Demetri was a Dinosaur Kid™️. The diorama in of itself may not be hard and cold proof, but the fact that he could identify not even a hadrosaur, but a hadrosaur EGG??? Now THAT shit is damning! Pretty sure Yasmine only found it because it was the only egg there XD Imagine if there were other eggs in the diorama when he told her to "press the hadrosaur egg" and she's like "how the fuck am I supposed to know which one that is???" POINT BEING!!! Yeah, he knows his dinosaurs, and he WILL flex this knowledge XD Now Little Eli may have not been comfortable enough to infodump about his favorite animal to every human being within a 10 foot radius, but Little Demetri absolutely was! Much to the chagrin of their entire kindergarten class and every long-suffering adult who in fact did not want to hear the 15 theories about what stegosaurus had those plates for.

(Most of them have to do with mating displays. It's all mating displays. How does this 5-year-old child know about mating displays???)

No idea if this was intentional or not, but these lads seem to have an uncanny ability to match with/camouflage into their environment. They had blues and purples on for the aquarium, and now here, they've got brown jackets on to match Sue (kind of brownish-tan), and the kinda golden sheen of the wall matches Eli's hair!!! I like to think they're doing this on purpose, but it would also be very funny (and oddly on-brand) if they're thematically slaying entirely by accident.

Speaking of the yellow 'hawk!!! I honestly never really thought about him with this color until I saw your art. Maybe in passing, but I kinda dismissed it as looking too goofy (too...Gokucore, almost? Like we know he's an anime protagonist but how far should one really go with that XD). BUT HERE??? My god, he SLAYS :O It's got a really bright and cheerful vibe compared to a lot of his hairdos...which seems fitting, considering he seems to be in a much happier place here than he was with any of the previous 'hawks! It also kind of looks like a crown, which is great, because something something he may have been the all-valley champ, but he didn't REALLY become a winner--he didn't REALLY get the crown--until he won over the boy of his dreams!!! And homeboy probably feels like the king of the world right now 💛💛💛

Still so funny to me that Eli here bears a perfect resemblance to the recently rediscovered yellow-crested helmetshrike. You know. A shrike. The teeny tiny little songbird-sized bundle of fury and violence that spends all day screaming and killing its prey via impaling, breaking spines, and other such Extra and uncouth methods???

Noisy calls that match his bright feathers indeed!!!

This. Hmmmm. This art and the news about the yellow-crested helmetshrike may or may not have inspired a couple changes in my fanfiction that features shrikes. Find out soon 👀👀👀

ALSO!!! I love their cute matching star wars jackets 😭😭 What delightful space nerds!

They are 1000% the type of fuckers to have a wedding cake topper that's just two T-Rexes having a light saber duel. And I love that for them.

Truly @asphodel-storm was right again--it IS Eli's turn to gayze! And what a lovely gayze it is 💛💛💛 Made even better by the fact I just know it's immediately followed by Demetri turning and spouting rapid-fire t-rex facts in an excited daze XD And Eli is completely enraptured!!! Literally could not be happier the love of his life is infodumping endlessly at him ajshdcklxubx

Love to see they have their arms around each other because they are dating and in love 💗💗💗💗💗💗

Forever enamored with Demetri's cunty sekai taikai updo hairstyle. He looks like such a douchebag and then he comes up to you and talks your ear off about prehistoric lizards and such. It must be such whiplash and I'm obsessed with it. I need him drawn with this hair more, he looks so DELICIOUSLY douchey aksdhbol

And SUE, my girl Sue!!! She is a masterpiece :O Your attention to detail is honestly spectacular, like!!! It must've been a pain in the ass to get each individual bone looking quite right, but you put in the hours to do her justice and the end result SERVES. She's a beauty!!!

Some real-life Sue, because how could I not!!!

Thank you for your lovely dinosaur art, thank you for drawing our nerds so happy, and thank you for inspiring my field trip to see this very cool spooky scary skeleton 🦴 You are forever an icon!!!

I hope they had the BEST museum date and bought lots of goofy overpriced dinosaur merch in the gift shop!!!

Museum nerds for @ckreversebang

Sue

#ckreversebang #binary boyfriends #hawkmetri #elimetri #hawkmeat #fanart #demetri alexopoulos #demetri cobra kai #eli moskowitz #hawk

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aha-aha-ahahaha · 3 years ago

Text

In My Head

Summary: You meet a man at a bar and invite him to leave. Interesting topics and extracurricular activities ensue

Warnings: cuss words obvi, mentions of past trauma (stalking, assault), smut so minors DNI

Idk how many words this is. I went hard. Too hard.

The strobe lights blinded his vision occasionally, flashing harshly in his eyes on repeat. Why was he here? A man stumbled towards the bathroom, but was not quick enough and vomited on the floor. A woman fell off a bar stool to his right. Hoards of people slammed into each other on the dance floor. A couple was arguing in the corner, screaming over each other. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a punch thrown at another.

Why was he here? In the seedy, gritty underbelly of humanity.

“Why are you here?” A voice that was not his own rings in his head.

“What?” He snaps and scowls towards his left.

His eyes soaked you in as you laughed. Wavy y/h/c hair and glitter eyeshadow. Dark painted lips and hoop earrings. Long denim skirt with a dangerously high slit on your left leg. A low cut top hidden behind a dark jacket. Your outfit matched the environment, in his opinion. Your smile did not.

“I asked why you were here, so why are you?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

You scoffed and twirled the toothpick in your vodka martini, picking it up to bite the olives on the end. Your eyes rolled and he noticed then how the lights shimmered in them, how the colors danced. “I mean it’s obvious you don’t want to be here. You’re tense, guarded. You are observing and are quite frankly disgusted.”

Taken aback, he shifts on his stool. He grabs his rum and coke, melted ice and all, and takes a sip. “How do you figure that?”

“I have this uncanny ability to read minds.” You smirk at him. With an eyebrow cocked, you wait for his response. He is confused, having taken you seriously until he noticed how you were holding in a chuckle, your chest quivering and lips pressed together tightly.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Since you don’t want to be here,” you down your martini and set the glass on the sticky oak countertop. “you wanna get out of here? Go to a place more… warm?”

He ponders this question. Who is this girl? Why would he go with her? He looks around the bar again. More people fighting, more people puking, more people falling apart. Why the hell not? “Alright.”

Once you step out of the oddly lit bar smelling of smoke and vomit, you notice how attractive he is. Usually, interiors of bars make people seem more attractive, but that is not the case. His black jeans fit him well, and you can see how his thighs curve into his ass. The leather jacket he wears makes him all that much hotter to you—a bad boy type, you think. The wind blows his black bangs into his face, which he promptly raises his hand to fidget with as he turns towards you.

You shake yourself out of your trance, stepping in front of him on the sidewalk, “Well, come on. This way.”

He watches the sway of your hips as you scuffle quickly ahead of him, arms tucked in your jacket to brace yourself against the cold. The long, denim skirt leaves much more to the imagination from behind than he’d care to admit. He follows silently in a trance, wondering what the hell he is doing.

You stop abruptly, causing him to bump into you, almost sending you flying forward. He instinctively grabs your arms to stop you from falling, holding you close for a split second. You scoff teasingly, “Did you do that on purpose?”

“N-no no I just wasn’t paying attention.” He stutters and releases you immediately, embarrassed.

“I’m just fucking with you, come on.” You laugh and push inside the building. The smell of cheese, sauce, and fresh dough fills his nose. A sense of calm and peace followed it. You call out to the man in the kitchen, smiling widely as he turns towards you. “This is Jack,” you introduce the man to him. “And Jack this is–“

You turn to him, realizing you had never gotten his name. He looks into your eyes and stumbles, unable to devise a pseudonym for himself. “Druig.”

“Druig.” You repeat him, his name rolling off your tongue like honey.

“Y/N, dont tell me you’re now bringing guys whose names you don’t even know in here.” Jack retorts.

“Oh shut up, Jack. Give us my usual.” You turn to him—Druig. What an interesting name, you think. “Do you eat meat?”

“Yeah I do.”

“If you don’t like meat per se, Jack can make you whatever you like?”

Druig smiles at your considerate thought. Who are you? “I’ll eat whatever. Just no tofu.”

You laugh wholeheartedly, he can tell. Your chest shakes and your smile is wide. It’s a true laugh. “I like you already,” you say.

You lead Druig to a booth in the corner, and he begins to sit. “Wait woah woah,” you stop him.

“What?”

“I always sit facing the door, no questions asked.” You state firmly but not harshly.

Druig nods and sits on the opposite side, watching you as you get yourself settled. You lean against the wall and pull your leg up to your chest, fully comfortable. “You know,” Druig starts, “I will ask questions about you having to face the door.”

“And I will answer if I feel like it.” You pause. You rest your face in your hand, propped up on your elbow. You study him, his blue eyes reminding you of ice, unwavering, unbroken. His pink, wind-bitten lips turn into a smirk watching you watch him. “Let’s play a game.”

“A game?” He chuckles. “What kind of game?”

“Twenty questions.”

“Twenty questions?” He asks, confused. What in the hell is twenty questions?

“Don’t tell me you don’t know what twenty questions is.” You raise from your previous position, hands slapping the table to emphasize your shock.

“I don’t actually.” Druig responds surely.

“What the hell planet are you from?” You ask him exasperated. He freezes. Does this girl actually read minds? Does she know? Who the hell is she?

“Uh–” he stumbles again. “Earth?”

“Again, just fucking with you.” Druig relaxes. Okay, she can’t read minds. “Basically there are two versions of twenty questions. One goes like this: you think of an object or person and I can ask twenty questions to try and guess what you are thinking of. The other is simple. We just ask each other twenty questions, and if there is one you don’t want to answer, you drink.”

Druig ponders this. Very interesting. “Okay, that makes sense. So I’m thinking of an object.”

You stop him, raising your hand and beckoning for Jack. “No, no. We aren’t playing that one right now. Jack! Get us a bottle of red, please.”

“I don’t know how much I’ll be able to answer,” Druig responds truthfully. You figured he had much to keep stored away, hidden from words.

“I’ll get it out of you, no worries.” You cheekily respond, pouring yourself a glass of wine that jack had set on the table. “Here, have some wine. Since you are new, you can go first.”

“Okay,” Druig thinks. What does he want to know about you? So many things. Can you actually read minds? Where are you from? What is under your clothes? He stops himself from going down that rabbit hole of thoughts. “We’re you in that bar by yourself?”

“Yes.” You respond quickly, lifting the glass to your lips to take a sip. Druig wonders why you are taking a sip since you answered the question. “Why do you watch people in disgust?”

“Wha—” Again, you caught him off guard. He sits in silence, brows furrowed and eyes burrowing into you.

“You can drink if you want, but just know it will give me an answer.” You smile deviously at him.

“I don’t know, really. I see the bad in people I guess.”

“Mmm, I see.”

Druig wants to hit you hard, take you aback with his next question. He sits silently for a few moments, eyes raking in your figure. “Do you dress the way you do to impress men–or women?”

You sit back, finger trailing around the rim of your glass. Is this guy actually an asshole? “No. I dress to impress myself. I feel no need to chase men or have them chase me.”

“I understand that.” Druig nods. He thought that was a part of the human ritual. A woman or a man dresses in a way to attract other women or men, sex ensues.

You pull your hair to one side, leaning in towards him, “Are you impressed?”

He notices the way you look at him, and his stomach twists. The confident side of him takes control, and he leans towards you as well, a smirk on his lips. “Yes, actually, and I–”

A pizza plops on the table, separating the two of you. All sexual tension dissipates as Jack smiles sassily at the both of you. “You should eat this before extracurricular activities.”

“Shut the fuck up Jack.” You snarl your nose at him in a joking way. The way your nose scrunches makes Druig smile. He wonders if extracurricular activities will take place. You turn onwards Druig, “This is the best pizza you will ever eat.”

You and Druig scarf the pizza down quickly, asking questions absentmindedly (most innocent…most), until there are two pieces left. You sigh, sucking the grease off your fingers. Druig watches intently, an urge rising up from within. You watch him lick his lips from the corner of your eye and the same urge rises within you.

“So,” Druig speaks up, pushing down the urges. “I do believe it is my question.”

“It is, sir.”

“Why do you have to sit facing the door?”

You tense, an obvious discomfort rolling through your body. “Reasons.”

Druig tilts his head, sensing the pain and sorrow from you. “You don’t have to tell me, you know.”

“Can I trust you?”

“Yes, of course. After all, I don’t even know your last name.”

You sigh, running your fingers through your hair. The last time you voiced this, the last time the words fell out of your mouth, you were seen as broken. You were seen as an issue. “I had this incident occur years ago. I’ve been to therapy about it, so it’s not like an ongoing crisis. But, it’s not something you can really move past, you know?”

Druig nods his head solemnly. You seem entirely uneasy, nervous.

You continue, “There was this guy. A stalking type of incident was occurring and then some other stuff. So I sit facing the door.”

Druig immediately feels the weight on you the sorrow. He doesn’t need to control you to sense it. “I’m sorry that happened.” He states. He’s beginning to get a picture of you: strong, charismatic, beautiful.

“It’s my turn to ask a question,” you change the subject quickly. There is no need to dwell on something from the past to a stranger. “So, from what I’ve gathered, you dislike conflict. You dislike most interaction really. I think you live isolated, isolated from conflict, isolated from chaos, isolated from family. You are very much in your own head. You hate yourself for some reason, so why is that?”

Druig laughs loudly at your statements. You can read minds. He is convinced. Who has ever pinpointed him so well before? “There are reasons.”

“Ah, yes. The hazy, overly general answer. I get it.” You smile at him as he takes a large gulp of wine. “I do think however, that Jack is about to close up. So, you want to go on a walk?”

“Yeah, let’s go on a walk”

The two of you are walking along the cold, empty street. Your shoulders are brushing together randomly, sending sparks through your body and his. His hand brushes against the small of your back occasionally.

The topic is completely random now, having abandoned the game. Druig watches option intently, mind wandering to dirty places. You stop in front of a brick building, concrete stairs encircled in railing leading towards the door. “This is my place.” You smile sweetly at him, prepared to go to bed alone.

You turn to walk up the stairs, and Druig grabs your arm softly, turning you back around towards him. “Wait,” you look up to him, breath visible in the frigid air. “I’ve decided to answer the question.”

Your brows furrow, having forgotten what question he was talking about. “What question?“

“You asked why I hate myself. Why I isolate. Why I am disgusted by conflict.”

You chuckle, moving your hands up and down your arms in an attempt to create some kind of warmth for yourself. But you feel the warmth radiating from him. It is so hard to resist. You beckon towards the steps and sit. “Alright, shoot.”

He sighs and looks at you. “I’m an eternal. I’ve been alive for seven thousand years. I can control minds of everything that has a conscience.”

You stare at him blankly for what, to him, feels like an eternity. Then, you burst out in laughter. “Yeah, okay honey.” You kiss his cheek and rise to walk up the stairs. “Have a nice night.”

He is baffled. Is it so incredulous for you to believe? In this world of avengers and supernatural beings? He then becomes irritated. He stands and watches you begin to unlock the door. His eyes glow golden. You drop your keys and turn to him, a feeling of helplessness encompassing you. You are watching him, you can smell him as he saunters toward you, but you can’t move. You hear his voice in your head, like it is your own thought.

Back up.

You back up, back flush against the cold wood.

Druig traps you in between his arms, his breath fanning over your face. You smell wine, you feel the cold, you see the gold eyes staring at you, you feel the heat pooling between your legs. You can’t move.

Druig speaks, “I see what you’re thinking, Y/N. And I’ve got to say, I’ve never heard of dirtier thoughts.”

His eyes return to the cool blue you’ve seen throughout the night, releasing his hold on you. You pant. “What the hell?”

“I told you, darling.” He tilts his head, his nose rubbing up your neck. “I can control you. I know what you are thinking. Use your powers—what am I thinking right now?”

He straightens and you search his eyes for anything. For everything. Lust blown pupils lessen the blue of his eyes. You want to touch him. You want to feel him. You’ve never had this much tension before.

Druig knows what you are thinking. He smirks and licks his bottom lip. “You’ve never had a real man before, have you darling?”

You gulp and shake your head no.

“You’ve always been in control, haven’t you?”

You whisper, “yes.”

“But that’s not what you want, is it?”

You shake your head again. He is inside your head. He knows what you are thinking, what you are feeling.

Druig leans forward, lips brushing over yours. Finally, you think. He hovers for a moment and pulls back, smiling innocently.

You sigh, annoyed. “What are you doing?”

“I’m teasing you, beautiful. Can’t you tell?”

“Don’t.” You plead. “Don’t.”

His lips crash into yours like waves crashing into a cliff side. It’s messy, sensual. You feel his kiss in your toes. Your arms wrap around his neck, fingers curling into his hair.

You hear his voice in your head again, which excites you.

Unlock the door.

You grab your keys to unlock the door.

You fumble with the keys, his grip on you being purely physical now. He tracks wet kisses down your neck, hands wrapped around you wandering. Oh, his wandering hands: touching, pinching, grabbing.

You both stumble inside and immediately lock lips again. The heat inside warms you, but not as much as him. You push the two of you apart, shedding your coat haphazardly. Your cool hands reach under his shirt and he shivers at the touch. His shirt is raised over his head, then yours. Your chest heaves as he looks at you.

“Strip.” He commands. You smile and do as you are told, left in nothing but your bra and underwear.

“Your turn.” You step towards him and get on your knees, unfastening and unzipping his jeans with your teeth. He shudders at the sight. But this isn’t about him. It’s about you. He sheds his pants and pulls you up towards him, kissing you deeply, distractingly.

You feel the rush of air on your chest as he unclamps your bra. Druig slowly runs the straps down your arms until it hits the floor. “My god, you are beautiful.” He kisses you forcefully, hands roaming. You fall to the floor of your living room, the plush rug softening the fall. Druig flips to top you, looking down at your face, basked in the warm glow of the lamp in the corner.

He places your hands above you. “Are you going to keep these here?”

“Yes.”

“We’ll see.” He smirks and begins to leave open mouthed kisses down your front. He kisses just above your panty line, looking up at you questionably.

“Go on, then.” You retort, impatient. He grabs the waistband with his teeth and slowly, achingly slowly pulls them down your legs. You groan at the sight.

“Keep your hands there, beautiful.” You nod in response, anticipation oozing out of every pore. His breath fans over you, sending shivers up your spine. Your hands instinctively beg to move as he begins to eat you out, licking, sucking, nipping at you. As he sucks hard on your clit, two fingers enter you, causing you to jolt and your hands to reach his hair to pull on something.

“Ah, ah.” He stops, raising his eyes at you disapprovingly. “What did I tell you darling?”

You pant and wiggle your hips. You need the touch again; you are so close. “Come on, Druig. Please, just—”

Hands up, darling.

His eyes glow as you once again raise your hands and whimper. You just need to grab onto something, and the way he has one wrist crossed over the other gives you no wiggle room. “I told you.” He says sternly. “Hands up.”

He continues his delicious attack on you. The coil building in your lower stomach by the minute. You can feel everything. You can speak, whimper, cry; you just can’t move your hands and you can’t feel that release. You pant heavily, just wanting that release. “Please, Druig. I need to come.”

He stops abruptly, leaving a tear skipping down your cheek onto the rug. “Tell me what else you want, and I will consider letting you.”

“Get inside me please. Please” You whimper. Another tear slides down your face. He seems to take pity on you, coming forward to kiss the tear away.

“As you wish, darling.”

It happens quickly, so quickly you don’t even register the time it took for him to take off his boxers or put on a condom. He’s in you, throbbing. You moan softly at the feeling, but you need more. You need to touch him.

“Oh my—” you struggle to get the words out. He stops thrusting his hips, leaving you in limbo. “No. No, don’t stop please. Please don’t stop.”

“I like this begging from you. What do you want? Tell me.”

“I need to touch you. Please. Let me move my hands.”

He grins, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. “As you wish darling.”

He begins slamming into you at a pace that is dizzying; his soft groans and growls fill your ear, making you even closer to release. Your hands find his back, scratching, holding on for dear life. Druig picks up your legs and wraps them high around his lower back, allowing him to hit that one spot. He kisses behind your ear, whispering dirty nothings as he continues. Bruises will be evident in the morning.

“I can tell you want to come, so go ahead darling.”

The words send you into a state of bliss and raw energy. Druig pulls out, spilling his load into the condom. He collapses on top of you. Both of you are panting, sweaty, and fucked out. Pure bliss is in the air. You stay silent for many moments, the both of you catching your breath.

“Wow.”

“Never been fucked like that before, huh?” His accent is heavy and tired now.

“No, I haven’t.” You smile lazily and watch him get up. He grabs the blanket off the couch and wraps you unit softly, cradling you in his arms. “The bedroom is that way.”

You find yourself staring at your bedroom ceiling as he is in the bathroom washing up. He brings out a washcloth to clean you from the stickiness. You’ve never had someone do this before either. You find yourself feeling something for this man. Something. No, you think. This is simply hormones and neurotransmitters altering my judgement. These aren’t true feelings.

Druig plops down on the bed next to you, rubbing your back softly. “I should go, shouldn’t I?”

“No. You shouldn’t.”

You smile at each other warmly. The way he moves under the covers next to you is enchanting. He is enchanting.

As you snuggle up and drift off to sleep, Druig asks, “Can you actually read minds?”

You laugh hard, back rising and falling with each breath. You flip your head over to face him. So cute. “I don’t have superpowers, Druig. I am a psychiatrist.”

#druig oneshot #druig eternals #druig fic #druig x female reader #druig x y/n #fic #also my drawing up there #marvel #the eternals #eternals #smut #druig smut #beware #just feeling it I guess #druig #mcu

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astaroth1357 · 4 years ago

Text

Demigod MC Series: Hades

Demigod MC Series: Intro, Aphrodite, Hermes, Hades

Lucifer

Well… this is awkward…

He’s actually met Hades multiple times for business reasons (Underworld-Devildom relations are amiable if not a little odd. Hades was something of an uncle figure to Diavolo as a wee demon lad, which should speak for itself really). He’s a gloomy fellow and not much for chit-chat, but he never thought they’d end up taking one of his kids by accident…

He had to send a formal apology letter to the Lord of the Underworld immediately, but thankfully he didn’t seem very concerned for his offspring - if anything he appeared to think the Devildom would suit them nicely which was… concerning.

And he was not wrong. The darkness, demons, ghouls, and frights of the Devildom hardly seemed to faze the MC, if anything they fit right in. He’d dare say they were thriving if not for one thing…

They were So. Damn. Bleak.

Getting a smile out of this one AT ALL was rare. For once he felt the need to check up on someone constantly just to be sure they were alright... They’d keep assuring the House that they’re not actually as sad as they look but it’s hard not to assume…

He was a little mortified at first when they first met Cerberus cause… well they called him “Cerbi” and the massive demonic guard dog rolled over for them like a Golden Retriever!

Apparently he and the Cerberus that they knew are from the same litter and they must have smelt familiar... He would have probably limited their interactions just to keep his dog on his side but after seeing the MC smile for once while they played with the big oaf well…

Cerberus got a new playmate and the MC got a massive, three-headed therapy animal. Win-win. 😌

Mammon

Do ya really gotta be such a downer all the time, MC…? 😔

He thinks they’re nice, like really nice. They’re always super concerned when his brothers attack him or when he gets injured, but he’s pretty sure it’s because they’ve seen people die before so…

At first, he had no idea why he had to be saddled with this depressing wisp of mortal but over time he started to understand that they weren’t all that sad. They had… Resting Gloom Face? Is that a thing?

They also had a different way of seeing things. He could win the lottery and they’d tell him to stay inside so he wouldn’t get hit by lightning or if he pissed off the wrong people, they’d joke about him keeping his fingers and toes. Dark stuff, but not intended to be so… well morbid.

However, what he eventually found out that the REAL advantage to having a Hades kid in the Devildom was that nothing scared them. Literally nothing. Not even the ghosts - which to reiterate, are terrifying!

Cue Mammon getting dragged to horror movies nights with his brothers and pulling the MC along to be his personal security blanket. He’ll hold onto them for dear life as they just pat his head or something, watching and not even flinching at the jumpscares.

The first time the House had an unexpected power outage he clung onto the back of their shirt like a lost child while they calmly looked for the circuit-breaker...

If he could jump into their arms every time something scary happened like Scooby-Doo, he absolutely would. His brothers make fun of him, but after seeing the MC handle Cerberus like a puppy any time something frightens them they hide behind the mortal as well…

Leviathan

In some ways, he totally relates to their moodiness but come on! Who can still look so sad when watching The Magical Ruri Hanai: Demon Girl?? Ruri-chan can make anyone smile! 😠

When he first met the MC, he was a little confused about why they didn't find him intimidating at all. He even reverted to his demon form and showed his fangs but no dice! All they said was, "I've walked along the edge of Tartarus. You're gonna have to try a lot harder than that, buddy…"

That was probably his first sign that the "human" wasn't normal…

After Mammon told him who their Dad was, things made a lot more sense. A child of Hades in the Devildom? That's ironic enough to be its own anime plot!! They certainly felt like an angsty protagonist at times. 🤷‍♀️

Truth be told, they could relate to each other in a lot of ways. You wouldn't think that an offspring of the Underworld and a demonic shut-in would have much in common but the one thing they share between them is that sense of never really fitting in.

Turns out that Hades kids are black sheep, even among other demigods, and Levi? Well, he's had trouble relating to others since his angel days. He and the mortal were like off-beat kindred spirits!

Which, I mean, you wouldn't get just by looking at them together. Levi being the impassioned super-otaku rambling their ear off while his somber companion would just go along with him quietly, but hey, there's more beneath the surface. Probably.

Now if he could just get them to cosplay as the Lord of Emptiness with him… They'd be perfect! Perfect he says!!

Satan

Highly considered drugging their food with antidepressants for a while…

This was before getting to know them better, of course, but for the first couple months he honestly couldn't shake the feeling that the mortal looked miserable!

Now, he's one to particularly care for the comfort of strangers, but just looking at them like that every day would sour his own mood quite considerably. It was very irritating...

It was only on closer inspection that he realized there was something else at play, though.

The mortal was different - even for a demigod he imagined. They took to the Devildom easily and the realm almost accepted them right back!

The flora looked better in their presence, the hellish beasts that roamed the wilds would roll over for them, and they even seemed to be welcomed in by the never-ending shadows…

It was fascinating. Like the effects of the Underworld were baked into their DNA and mingled with the environment around them… Two layers of darkness coexisting within one person.

I mean, what other creature - other than Lucifer - could ride Cerberus around like a pony??

Had they not been so kind, they'd probably scare him shit-less... Their potential power was too great to ignore. But after getting used to their gloom, at least they made for pleasant company. 🤷‍♀️

Satan likes them well enough, but even still he has to wonder just what they were capable of… you know?

Asmodeus

Oh. My. WORD. What a buzzkill!!!

Really, the new mortal was no good at parties or pictures for that matter!

Not because they looked bad, or even because he couldn't get them to smile, but because GHOSTS would always photobomb any pictures they were in!! 😫

One time he got a selfie with them on the couch and a creepy ghost child could be seen hiding behind the cushions so NOPE. No more photos with the mortal around!!

Aside from that, he couldn't say the mortal was all bad or anything…They were pretty friendly, despite their general look and feel.

Though, personally, he thought they wore far too much black... Even in the Devildom, there's normally a pop of color, you know? Was that just the Hades dress code?

And you want to know the weirdest thing? Despite everything about them screaming "Doom and Gloom," they're straaaangely popular among the RAD dating scene…

Like. Not as some heartthrob, "Love'em and Leave'em"-type, but he's found that there's a LOT of his demonic classmates who think they're cute or have a crush on them in some way…

Naturally, he can see the appeal of the mysterious, moody demigod with a dark, troubled past. It's just the demigod in question is completely oblivious to it! 🤷‍♀️

He tried to give them dating tips or play matchmaker from time to time but eventually gave up when it was clear they weren't interested. Alas, students of RAD, this is one forbidden fruit that refuses to be shared…! Such a tragedy… 😔

Beelzebub

They remind him of Belphie… like. A lot.

The similarities were obvious. They had a similar feel, made similar jokes, and even the same somewhat dreary attitude about them...

If he were being honest, at the beginning there were times when he'd open up to them a lot more than he intended because he'd forget that he wasn't actually talking to Belphie…

Thankfully, he knew better than to try and treat them like his replacement or anything. They were two different people after all. But it didn't stop him from feeling extra protective around them for a while.

Besides, there was ONE thing that set them leagues apart from Belphie and that was the fact they were a shit cook. Not quite as bad as Solomon but uh… Actually no, that's a closer call than it has any right to be...

Apparently, Hades kids don't need to eat as much and when you hang out with shades and skeletons for most of your life, you don’t really worry about making food that's any better than… "Well, technically it's edible." 🤷‍♀️

Their food won't kill a person like Solomon's, but you WILL start seeing stuff you probably shouldn't. He tried their "soup" once and swore he saw the ghost of his mother… and he doesn't even have a mother!!!

He swears that if he ever sees the MC and Solomon working together in the same kitchen he's skipping town… Whatever culinary abomination the two of them could create would probably gain sentience and eat HIM instead. He's always figured he'd go out with Death by Food, but not like that!! 😫

Belphegor

Ever meet someone who’s like looking in a mirror? Yeah, he’s getting those vibes…

He never expected the "human" to be so similar to him, it was kind of uncanny.

Upon first laying eyes on each other there was a pause… then a squint… and then… a nod.

Honestly, their combined dry wit, dark humor, and pessimistic outlook played off of each other surprisingly well. Too well for him to hate, really.

Not that it mattered because they didn’t believe him for a second when he tried to trick them (they had dealt with loads of lying monsters before). He hated to admit it, but they had a good head on their shoulders and knew better than to trust a locked up demon…

And yet, they seemed to stick around with him anyway. Because of the good conversation or just empathizing with his loneliness was anyone's guess. 🤷‍♀️

Sometimes they'd come up and sit outside the door in comfortable silence… Or they'd talk about whatever:

MC: *sitting out by the attic with their back against the door* So what happens to demons when they die…?

Belphie: *laying on the floor on the other side, staring at the ceiling* Depends on the kind. If I die, I'll just reform later.

MC: Like a reincarnation?

Belphie: Eh. *shrugs* Maybe. Haven't died yet.

MC: You could die in there, you know.

Belphie: *throws a side glare* Well thanks for bringing that up…

MC: *shrugs* What? It's true. But don't worry, I won't let you. *small-ish smile*

Belphie: *stares at them wide-eyed and pink-cheeked before turning on his side quickly* Ugh… whatever…

They did their word, somehow. They eventually got the door open and let him out, but by that time the anger was gone and he was just happy to finally talk to them face-to-face...

And good thing too, because apparently it's not smart to fight a death-child in what is essentially their element - as he saw when they summoned an army of skeletons to kick Levi's ass when he cheated them in Devil Cart...

He would not have lasted in that fight... Dodged a bullet there.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me demigods #obey me scenarios

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argonavis-hcs · 2 years ago

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Hello ;) What do you think would be the ideal (fem) type for each Gyroaxia boys? personality and appearance in case

GYROAXIA and their ideal fem type

A/N: I'VE BEEN WANTING TO TALK ABOUT THIS SO LET'S GET INTO IT! I'm sorry in advance if this is a bit suggestive, just please ignore the one i strikethrough-ed.

Pairings: All Gyro members (separated)

Not someone that screams 'mother figure'. he already has Kenta for that /j

He's gonna need a really and i mean REALLY understanding person. Someone that can read the room. Someone that understand every detail and types of Nayuta's complaints and silence

Someone who's creative with the way they dress(?) I think Nayuta would love seeing his girl dress like she's a part of his band

Like a Queen that's only fit for a King

When she's in the room, everyone knows not to mess with her. That kind of aura

Loyal. It's a must. (He had seen his father turned his back on him. I don't want to see him go through it again in his love life)

Someone who understands little bits and pieces about music would be nice

Someone that has a burning passion to achieve anything she wants

Minutes before going up to the stage, Nayuta wanted to hear your voice but he was hesitating to call you at first, yet his thumb pressed the green button and put it on speaker, since he's alone in the tent anyway. Nayuta noticed that you took a bit longer to answer than usual until your voice filled his ears. He could tell that you're inside the train on your way home, and sounded annoyed too. "Nayuta? Sorry the wait. This girl in my group project decided to be a bitch and– Hold on, aren't you supposed on stage right now?"

"I'm about to," Nayuta replied. Deep down he wished you would just go on ranting about your day so he could hear you talk longer, but he got art to perform to the audiences.

"I see," you muttered softly. "Good luck up there. Even though you don't really need it with that talent of yours. I know you're not calling me because you're chickening."

Only silence and distant sound from other band' performance can be heard. Nayuta clearly had no words to say to that statement of yours. "I'll be home soon to watch your performance. Just wink at the camera if you miss me that much, ok?" You said teasingly.

Nayuta grumbled, "In your dreams." And cut the call.

Dressed and acts classy. Someone who always value the things she does and manage her time well

I'm sorry if i describe her like describing job application /j

Look assertive but really nice once people got to know her

I wanna see Kenta gets dominated

But I also hc both him and his partner are switch. So it's an infinite power play in bed

The amount of trust this couple has for each other is uncanny. Kenta literally trust her with everything, and she won't ever break that trust and vice versa

No outside force can can break them apart because they're both mature already

People might see this couple as power couple but they too can be vulnerable when it's only the two of them. Kenta won't let anyone but her see his tears

Someone that's almost as tall as him (could be taller when wearing heels)

Knowledgeable in wine, fashions, and domestic stuff too

It's Thursday afternoon, you and Kenta were in the mall to look for a dress. It's not often for both of you to have an empty schedule at the same time, so you have to take every chances just for a small moment with Kenta.

"My father still wanted me to go to the gala even though i told him i have other schedules." You complained. "He can be quite stubborn at times."

"I'm sure he meant it well, y/n. On the bright side, now i got to accompany you, like a boyfriend would." He squeezed your hand in his.

"Doing a boyfriend thing." You chuckled. "I wish we can have more time together."

"We will once I put this ring on you." Kenta muttered to himself.

"Sorry? I wasn't listening."

Kenta just smiled at you. "Nothing, y/n."

She would have to be the shoulder that's always ready for Reon to lean on. Because he has a lot of pent up stress he needs to talk about. HE HAS A LOT TO SAY ESPECIALLY ABOUT NAYUTA

I see him being into brunettes

Do you know those girls who looks really nice that has soft colored insta feeds? Yes. That kind of girl

Reon with a short gf would be so cute aaaa he would lend her his clothes and she'll drown on them

It'd be great if she's as patience as a saint because there are always girls who loves to hit on him. Good luck~

But then again, too many guys hit on her before Reon came (some guys still had the nerve to do it. Ignoring Reon completely). She accepted some, rejected some. So she's more experienced in relationship than Reon

Someone that appears to have this calm nature but wouldn't hesitate to snap him out of it if he's about to lose it

Someone supportive that would remind him about what get him started chasing his dreams in the first place

"–And the second performance will happen in three days, that means more practice and more hearing his complaints about my skill." Reon sighed, yet his expression looked more calm than tired. "It can be really annoying, but I'll still do my best for the band no matter what. Definitely not because Nayuta nag me to, ok?"

You just hummed in agreement while running your fingers through his locks. He's been lying down with your thighs under his head for a good 30 minutes now, not going to lie you want to move your legs but you also don't want to disturb him from his weekly report on his life. Also, he looked so peaceful today. Maybe the ray of sun peeking through the leaves made him appeared angelic, or maybe you're tired from pulling an all-nighter to write thesis.

I said it once and i'll say it again. he's boob guy

Pls i keep imagining him saying "Can i touch them? Please?" MAKE IT STOP

Someone who can keep up with his alien fantasy

It's gonna be awesome if she could make him sweets

He'd date a girl who come to campus with hoodies and sweatpants. Ryo loves it when she seems comfy 24/7. He doesn't care about looks that much, as long as she's comfortable in her own skin

Short haired because too lazy to take care of long hair. And probably has a bad history that involved around having long hair, not a sweet memory. So she never grow it longer than shoulder length

Someone calm. But would smile more and open up more when with him. No masking and faking emotions with each other especially in private

Someone short. Nothing weird, he just thinks a short partner is a cute partner. It's amusing seeing her trying too reach something but can't due to her height

No he won’t reach the stuff himself, Ryo would hold hug her hips and pick her up to reach it herself lol

You've been staring at your laptop screen for a long time now. At least to Ryo it's a long time. 5 minutes without your attention on him could be considered a very very long time to him, right now you really need to get your attention away from whatever you're working on there.

"y/n, aren't you hungry? Because I am." Ryo who's standing behind you puts all of his weight onto your shoulders. Since you're too short and too comfy to not be used as a human to lean on.

"You're heavy, get off of me," you whined. "I'm an earthling, you want to crush me to death, aren't you?"

"No. But earthlings need to eat. And y/n always cheerful after eating, it means eating makes her happy. So I won't stop until you get up and come with me to eat."

"Uhm... 5 more minutes."

After five seconds of silence, Ryo said, "Ok, that's 5 minutes." He picked you up like a stray cat towards the kitchen where good things were being stored.

Oh he's dating a model. Or at least an Insta model

He LOVES a girl who would go to the gym with him. So he could post those gym couple photos doing the gym couple exercise that would make the gym staff says "get a room you two"

The kind of girl who radiates baddie energy in general AND HE LIKES THEM FEISTY

"Oh you're gonna go to the salon? Let me pick you up so i can join you, babe."

Facetiming to ask which nail color looks best would go like, "YOU'RE GETTING YOU NAILS DONE RIGHT NOW? YOU COULD'VE MADE RESERVATIONS FOR TWO BUT NO, YOU DECIDED TO GO ON YOUR OWN INSTEAD. Yes the blue one on the right looks better."

He love it if she is jealous when some other girl is hitting on him so someone with a little bit of jealousy in her is cute (or more like to stroke his ego)

Seeing him with a flirty kind of girl would be so fun to watch. Since he used to be flirty to many girls so his gf would occasionally flirt with Kenta just to piss Miyuki off

And Kenta would go along with it hehehe

Someone with confidence is such a turn on for him. Always.

You're at the nail salon to get your nails done, it's always been your way to treat yourself after dealing with many stuff for the whole month. But there's a problem, you're having a hard time to decide whether you should go for baby blue or red wine for the base color. So, like anyone would do, you'll video call your boyfriend to make him suffer with you.

After a few rings Miyuki picked up the phone. "Babe, so I'm in the salon right now to do my nails, i can't decide whether i should go with–"

"YOU'RE GETTING YOU NAILS DONE RIGHT NOW? YOU COULD'VE MADE RESERVATIONS FOR TWO BUT NO, YOU DECIDED TO GO ON YOUR OWN INSTEAD, HUH?!" Miyuki exclaimed.

"STOP SCREAMING, WILL YOU?" You screamed back at him. "I thought you're with your band mates now?"

"We had to cancel because one of us got sick," he mused. "By the way, the red wine will make you look sexier, you should go with that."

You rolled your eyes at his comment. "Alright, I'm going to hang up."

"No! Wait! Send me your location so I can join you. A drummer's hands need some hand massages too, y'know?"

#request #gyroaxia #aaside #aaside imagines #argonavis imagines #argonavis #from argonavis #fanfiction #headcanons #scenarios #nayuta asahi #kenta satozuka #reon misono #ryo akebono #miyuki sakaigawa

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loco-bird · 7 months ago

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Oh gosh I already had the privilege of getting a sneak peek of the first part of this but as always you outdid yourself girl ✨✨✨❤️❤️❤️

Oh man here she comes to get him, the beautiful nightmare!! Which makes it more ironic that this starts with a sweet dream of his wife!! It's so touching how he sees his home so vividly even in his dreams, all the details and landscapes, and he finds all of this better than any kind of heaven... Poor man will be dreaming of his home like this for such a long time 😢

And he's hearing the voice of his wife like coming straight out of his chest like she is always connected to his heart 😭 and the way he half sobs! Like he wants to scream but he's so weak and emotional to see her there 😭 even the way she is described in a silhouette so close yet so far seems like she is a Goddess to his heart as well! And is the wrapped up object their baby? Poor man wanting to cry! But of course this was way too good to be true. The Gods and karma are not kind to him like this!

You described so well the state of a weakened body, especially after the whole mess Odysseus went through! His body is just beaten up, abused and exhausted so of course it's so hard for him to move or even open his heavy eyes! And his poor throat from the harshness of the elements and sea!! Oh gosh the white room!! I know this feeling hahaha "turn off that wall!!" 😂 It's crazy when the light hits! But it also gives a sense of freshness, even tho in this context the blinding white scenario probably will add to Odysseus feeling of "captivity" later on! It's funny that "alien abduction" clishés also talk about people being brought to blinding white rooms, and this context also reminded me of that 😆 tho to be fair a white stone grotto, especially with such furniture and tapestries also sounds beautiful hehe it does fit a Goddess, so you already started with the beautifulXcreepy duality very well even before Calypso appears! Oh gosh and the maid is afraid of him and his look! She even takes a step back hearing him attempting to talk!

Oh boy and here she comes in all her creepy beautiful glory! Also sorry I can't help but compare her to a twisted version of Dilla hahaha deep voice but melodic, tall and strong (despite looking delicate) and a motherly touch, even the dark skin, but unlike Dilla she's just so twisted, cunning and manipulative, emanating a false sense of security from those honey eyes 😆😆

I love the ocean themed details of her like the seashells on her braided hair! Also love the unnatural beauty of her face being pore-less and such, giving her a doll-like or as you brilliantly describes, a marble like texture, it so adds to the uncanny valley sensation that the being he is dealing with is definitely not human despite having human shapes! Also love the choice of honey colored eyes because as said before they add to this false sense of sweetness, but also they can both be sweet and predatory 👀 I also love your choice of words saying that Odysseus gets stunned by her beauty, it makes him seem like he's already sort of jumpy from her!

Her motherly attitude is definitely a red flag here hahaha seems more condescending somehow! And the way she seems to be so unnaturally strong is realy scary having in account what she could do with said strength! And she feeds him the nectar now hahaha this is the part I got suspicious hahahaha like a drug 😂😂 I like your description of the taste because you left it misterious (since this drink it's probably something hard to explain) yet you have a good hint of what it must feel like to drink it, like all the flavors and none at all is brilliant! And the way the poor guy is almost addicted to it immediately, tho he also seems to need it... And the way he feels so tired just by the act of drinking 😢

Hahaha even the way she tells him she gave him nectar is kind of cocky! Like "you should be happy because humans don't usually drink this, I was so generous giving it to you to save you" 😂 but at the same time it's such fitting behavior for such a Goddess hahaha and poor Odysseus surely feels better for it... Tho he is yet to pay the price!

Oh man "devine beings"... They sure are, but this will definitely not be your heaven my guy! Tho I loved how the girls giggled at his comment hahaha charmer 😆 and of course Calypso can almost already guess this guy crossed the Gods somehow lol

Gosh poor Odysseus still hoping to get some comrade back even if it's just a dead body... And man this reaction of Calypso is definitely quite cruel but fitting for someone who sees the life and death of humans as something so trivial and fleeting. The way she is actually amused at his question... And calling him darling like that, once again sounding condescending rather than comforting! Aww poor guy's heart breaking more even tho he already cried so much for them, and he's still so tired, the way he can't tell how many days have been is both sad but to be expected.

It's so twisted knowing what happens next, because this is also a very complex situation, she definitely helped him and saved his life, some of her emotions are genuine, yet the price he has to pay being raped and forced really is too twisted especially seeing some of her attitudes, her sort of disconnect to human existence, how condescending she is, her air of haughtiness... and her forceful attitude even if it's still soft now, it already is a red flag! She really is quite the scary one, yet she has so many layers until she uncovers the hunting spider beneath!

Oh gosh I love such details the way you make his body finally feel the repercussions of his great stress, heartbreak and torment, and actually giving him a physical reaction through fever shivers and more... This is so realistic the body truly suffers this way in great stress... And the way he is mumbling all the terrors and pains he has suffered until now 😭

I really loved how you described all his horrors in one big amalgamation of a nightmare... The attack on Troy with all the creaming people, the Charybdis whirlpool... The dead baby and the men turned into pigs with the sacred cows! Gosh too much for the poor man now coming for his dreams all at once 😭

The way you described him thinking he would not die by Poseidon really is a good hint that his sweat drenched clothes are making him feel like he is drowning at sea again... Poor guy must really feel like choking with the clothes 😢 oh man and him going back to the thunder that struck his boat... The burning flesh is such a dark detail and gosh the eye crying blood staring at him is such nightmare fuel! Is it from the cyclops? Or Poseidon looking at him from the depths maybe? Either way gosh!! Horror material in an amazing way ✨✨

Oh man him pleading for a drink at her! And her smiling at his state is somehow disturbing even if she goes to assist him! You really did Calypso's red flags so well girl! It's the little subtle things about her!

Oh gosh she just went for it!! Mouth feeding the liquid to him like that seems so violating already, like she was waiting to take advantage of that moment to do it! Oh man but of course the feverish man's thoughts go to his wife instead 😭 the way he connected the honey taste to Penelope remembering even what she used to eat while she was pregnant, and all her other details... Poor guy really is sinking into the desire and longing thinking he is home with her again... 😢

And the way he cries and begs for her before losing consciousness again 😭 man that damn woman hahaha she is wicked! But somehow you also gave her such an interesting touch of humanity in her twisted Goddess demeanor! The way she is curious about these passion feelings inside her, even if she still is creepy lool she kisses him again without a second thought!

It's also a mix of creepy and interesting the way she is drawn to him, she is looking at him and observing him like he was a shiny new toy she has never seen before and wants to have to herself... She wants to know him better because she's curious about what makes him tick and work, and not knowing how to have him frustrates her... Or at least that's the feeling she gives me because she's way too detached from mortal beings so she sees them more as entertainment.

Hahaha but it is interesting how this mortal man who is not particularly handsome compared to Gods and deities still caught the attention of these Goddesses by his rugged and interesting appearance and aura! Also I can see through your descriptions why he is compared to a ram! Bushy guy 😂😂 even the way she touched him tenderly is forceful, her hands trailing like that confidently as if she owned him already is very disregarding of his own wishes, which she doesn't really care of course lol

And of course that remark of the future plus her taking his hairs truly gives a scary feeling! (Also interesting how she took one white and one black hahaha like it's a symbolism for his duality!)

Gosh and here is yet another dream of his family and home the poor guy really can't take it being away from them for so long, his whole body and mind longs to return 😢 and the bed is here hahaha once again so sad that his dreams of home are so vivid even after such a long time!!

Penelope seems like such a soft and supporting wife even tho she shares his temper and wits sometimes hahaha and man he remembers her just like the day he left for war! ❤️ And gosh in this dream he managed to return home after Troy, a wish from his heart 😭 And he even imagines his grown up son! It's interesting how the dreams both end with the silhouette of his loved ones against the sun, first his wife then his son, almost as if it was hard for his heart to picture then at that moment... Especially Telemachus that he never saw grown so his image is more dream like... And oh boy that melody and the weaving... Calypso is definitely putting her spells to work there...

Also possibly this is not the idea but it's almost as if Calypso likes to have Odysseus lying there in the bed next to her working corner as a sort of adornment. Sure he has no choice he needed to rest and to lay there, but I dunno hahaha the weird feeling! I can definitely see the Spider spinning a web inspiration in the way Calypso works on her weaving! And the poor man is still so confused!

The way she calls him darling hahaha shivers! 😂 Once again she points to her immortality as a completely different reality! Oh you went with the week he spent sleeping here instead!! Hahaha so fitting and it makes sense since his body was enduring his fever dreams and repressed stress and all! Poor guy was shocked and of course the Spider is amused at the little fly she caught 😆

The mention of his torn clothes... In a way it's also crazy that even in the middle of his weakness Odysseus was so panicked that he managed to actually tear the fabrics!! Aww and he's ashamed that his wife's name and feelings were exposed while he was in such a weakened state!

Oh boy the flash of jealousy!! 👀😱 Gosh Odysseus doesn't imagine how terribly right he is! And she strikes back by saying he kissed her!! Completely leaving out the fact that she was the one who crashed her lips on him without permission in the first place! Such a sly manipulator she is, because that indeed was not a lie technically however it would not happen without her starting it, letting him subconsciously respond!! He could not even sit up let alone reach up to kiss her! But of course Odysseus in his confused state (plus possibly her spell)does not even ponder that, and just feels guilty!

Oh man and the way you describe him looking like a hurt animal when she tells him she enjoyed it... Definitely about to be hunted... "You took me by surprise" she says oh man the nerve 😆

Oh man I can see her spells are taking away a bit of his rational thinking there! Yet the poor guy still wants to be clear that he never meant to do such a thing and avoid any misunderstanding... and now he is seeing her as a predator her layers are starting to peal bit by bit! And gosh the way his chest clenched, he really is so afraid to anger another deity!! And her reply is truly dangerous! It sounds like a treat already! Like she's telling him he's treading on thin ice by thinking of his mortal wife while she's there 😨

Oh man and the way she demands the information from him warning him not to lie while she herself is already manipulating and subduing him without him even knowing! And the fact that she now is certain that he is the infamous Odysseus only made him more interested... In a not so fortunate way for him... Hahaha his long string of titles impressing her 😆

Gosh his guilt eating him alive again preventing him from defending himself, you really make his pain shine through in the most heartbreaking way through your writing 😢 and l the way she holds his chin up I can't! 😆 I love how you make their moments that were supposed to be tender at first glance seem so visceral somehow! And poor Odysseus feels it and is uncomfortable... I love how he faked dizziness to have an excuse to draw away from her grasp! And he's careful to point out she's beautiful perhaps to appease her? Oh boy the rest indeed 🤣 better to pretend being sick forever man 🤣🤣

The poor guy is thankfully healing well but oh man he still is so oblivious of his situation even tho he can feel the ominous sensation over him... The spell idea connected to her singing and weaving truly is scary yet so interesting as a concept! It's like she's trying to weave into his mind quite literally especially since she took his hair!! Still it's sweet to see him satisfied to be healed even tho it's clearly an effect of her spells 😢

Oh man her watching him... Again in other contexts it could be admiration but with her it's so like... A perv stalker! 😆 It's crazy how he indeed still dives into the water despite his traumas tho! And again the way she thinks about making love to humans is so like a novelty to her, taking someone for fun, and how ironic how so many mortal men would jump at the opportunity to share a bed with her, but of course she wants the one whose heart and body just can't belong to her, not truly. Also the way she almost fetishizes human mortality. Tho her duality and complexity is also interesting, the way she tells herself she wants to console him and provide him with a missing piece or that she can connect his loneliness with her own, however this all falls flat because despite the fact that she might love him or not, she still does not respect his true wishes or feeling choosing to manipulate or forcing him to be with her instead! It's quite an interesting way to choose to write an abuser! She's not cartoonishly evil, yet her duality makes her so much more creepy and interesting than if she was! She's truly terrifying and intriguing that way, and has a touch of realism even in her narcissist attitude. Oh man and her jealousy of Penelope really makes her seem more dangerous... Gosh and of course she finally decides to show more of her cunning layers!

Hahaha it's kind of cute how Odysseus knows the names of the nymphs now! Gosh and they are almost as mischievous as their mistress giggling like that knowing what is planned for him! Yeah Odysseus... The good Goddess to wait indeed oh man...

This is an interesting contrast to how he will dislike being bathed by servants, especially female servants, later on... How many times must he have been prepared by nymphs before heading to one more dreaded night with Calypso... also the fact that Calypso is even dressing him up!! It goes back to the "It's almost like she found a cat" idea! Even if it sounds like a trivial thing, it's still like she is somehow taking even the little choices away from him dressing him with what she pleases instead... And it's somehow worse that she made them for him lool this so goes back to the twisted Dilla idea hahaha sorry! 😆

Oh boy and he enters the cage of the lion hahaha I love how you still make him so human, because despite his heart belonging to another and Penelope being always his choice he still of course gets impressed by the beauty of a Goddess because who wouldn't? It's another thing Calypso tries to use against him lol and the way she lays there on the couch sounds like a painting hehe and she definitely chose her wardrobe carefully! I love how how she knew she should not be too provoking or it would be too obvious for her mind games with him!

The environment sounds so beautiful tho and undoubtedly romantic which once again makes it darker as a concept!! Especially with the fact that she made the wine strong to make him inebriated and easier to influence! Oh man and she wants to jump on him the moment he kisses her hand out of gratefulness! The lion den is truly here!!

And even in the conversation she's trying to point out how her island is rich and with abundance like she is trying to suggest it would be the perfect place for him to live... It's also so ironic how she toasts to life since once again mortal life seems to be something so trivial to Gods to a certain extent. The different subjects and perspectives they share are so interesting tho haha Odysseus talks about such human things lands, adventures, war, while Calypso seems to be talking about concepts so transcendental, stars, cycles, songs of birds, it's an interesting perspective of a Deity having "small talk" hahaha

Oh man making the guy drunk... Again so dark, she clearly is trying to make him vulnerable and that is so frightening real to an abuser behavior... And the way she came to realize he's afraid of displeasing her and is using that to make him do what she wants! She is clearly pounding on his defenses like a hammer... Making them come down by emotional force... And the way she finally uses his sadness to get to his heart while sort of guilt tripping him... gosh that was low and it hurt 😭

Oh boy the trust question was it... Somehow the way he's so drunk makes this all the more dark and sad, the way he can't properly talk and she pretty much backed him into a corner until he bursts all of his sadness and emotions out 😭 she's forcing his trust on her and that's messed up...

Oh gosh the poor man crying like that while telling her... In a way thinking he is letting it all out to a person who is listening.. but man once again he is yet to pay the price for it 😭 her cooing at him is definitely even worse!! And NOW she makes her servants stop serving him drink lol aww he's even physically nauseous from his drunkenness and emotions 😭 and he thinks she is soothing!! Oh man 😭

Oh gosh when she said "Shall we go to bed" I thought this would be the first of the 2555 🤣🤣 oh man!!! And he can't even properly reply with a yes or no... He's so defenseless in her arms now... And now he reminds himself of one of her red flags the strength she could use to crush him...

Him trying to convince himself that the fact that she is gentle with him and saved should be a reason for her and her strength not to be concerning... yet his instincts are clearly concerned! Even her ideas of stealing kisses are concerning now let alone the rest! 😆 Man the spider watching her little prey get more and more tangled in her web again... Oh gosh yeah Calypso, or you'll be yet one more sorrow for his list! 😭

Oh boy girl yet one more crazy ride! I really enjoy how you wrote Calypso! She's so interesting as a cunning yet alluring character! Complex in her emotions yet so detached and toxic! And it all fits so well with her Goddess nature, beautiful yet creepy! And of course Odysseus dealing with yet another complicated road ahead!! Fantastic job girl just so perfect! It's building up to a great conclusion here, so exciting to read!! ❤️❤️❤️❤️✨✨✨🫶🫶🫶💎💎💎💎

As said before the soundtracks are so fitting! So dark yet alluring like the Goddess! Oh it's interesting that the horse he was mumbling about could also be the Poseidon! 😲 The honey crackers detail is so sweet for his wife ❤️ Man the spell making him forget his sorrow is both so fitting for an epic yet so horror story material in the best way! Yet the man fights hehe oh gosh what a great idea with the parallel fates! Like Karma always striking him again and again!!

Truly fantastic 🕷��🕷️🕸️🕸️✨✨

Survivor's Guilt and Survivor's Duty (P2)

this is dedicated to @aaronofithaca05 because I believe I read somewhere his birthday was coming? Hehehe Either way this is the second part

Continuation from:

It was only for a brief second that the rays of sun touched his salt-crusted cheek but Odysseus saw or at least he thought he saw a tall slender figure picking something up from the beach many meters away from him (maybe a seashell). The figure turned towards him and walked there. And then everything turned black…

Sweet warm sunlight was embracing him. It was a familiar warmth; as familiar were the smells of grass, land and flocks of goats. He could hear the birds singing, feeling the soil beneath his feet and the grass tops to his fingertips. The warm breeze was caressing his face and softly playing with his hair. He had his eyes closed taking in every detail his eyes could not perceive. He opened them to see the familiar land showered in light. Everything was still there…the hills, the crops…the flocks playing at the rocks…the birds singing amongst the olive trees… Tears overflew his eyes as his heart flattered within his chest. This was better than Elysium… This was home…

“Odysseus!”

The melodic voice came from a distance… Maybe it had come out of his very chest. And yet the familiar voice of the woman he so much longed for made him feel his heart ready to burst in his chest.

“Odysseus!”

There she was…showered in light. She had the strong sunlight at her back so he couldn’t make her features; just her silhouette. However he did not need to see her face to know who she was; that straight and slim body covered with her modest veils softly waving at the evening breeze.

“Penelope!”

It was a half-sob through that whisper; a prayer, a longing scream of the soul. She was standing there, as if to the beginning of a light tunnel. She was holding a small, wrapped up thing in her arms. Oh, he was home!

“Come, Odysseus!” the lulling voice came again

“Penelope…!”

Her name was the only thing he could utter. His throat was clenched by sobs that he wanted so much to let out and was holding them back.

“Come…my love…come…”

He extended his arm towards her offering one.

Light engulfed him…

He could hardly feel his surroundings but he gradually gained some level of consciousness enough to start to gain subsequently some essence of feel and touch. He could understand he was lying upon the soft, sweet-smelling surface of a bed. His eyelids seemed to be weighting a ton each as if they were made out of lead. His body felt even heavier than that and he barely could twitch a finger, yet alone move. His throat still hurt and felt dry but he noticed the feeling was infinitely better than the last time he remembered being conscious. He forced himself to open his eyes and again and again till finally he succeeded. At first all he could see was whiteness but after a second his vision half-cleared as he blinked. He noticed he was inside a white room made of stone. The sunlight was reflecting upon the whiteness of the walls creating a natural almost blinding result. It took him a few extra seconds to realize that he was inside some sort of grotto. The walls, even if they bore no decorations from murals like most palaces did, still looked magnificent and tall, they had nothing to be jealous of the great palaces he saw in his life or even holy Troy herself. There were quite a few pieces of furniture around and tapestries with patterns he didn’t recognize. He tried to raise his neck from the pillow but he realized he found it easier to move the rocks instead. His head seemed nailed to the pillow. He drew out a rusty breath as he scanned the place and only then he noticed a young girl above him fixing his covers, he presumed, with another behind her leaving a tray at a small table somewhere. The maid that fixed him had a scared look on her face. Was he really that much of a dreadful sight? He tried his voice that seemed stuck like the crust of salt that seemed to be gone from his body now.

“Where…where am I…?” he managed to rasp out

The maiden took a few steps back.

“Madam! He’s awake” she called upon someone behind her shoulder

“I can see that” came a melodious deep female voice from somewhere behind

Odysseus weakly looked up to see a magnificent woman. She was tall and slender with dark sun-kissed skin and dark hair carefully arranged in braids adorned with gold and seashells which cascaded down her back like a cape. Her face was heart-shaped and completely clear and pore-less; looking more like the magnificence of marble rather than flesh. Her large almond-eyes had the color of rich honey and her lips were full and shaped like a shell. Odysseus was stunned by her beauty and much more by her soothing voice.

“Who…” he started but his voice betrayed him

The stunning woman smiled almost maternally at him, raising with her richly adorned with gold bracelets and rings a goblet.

“Well, stranger, welcome back to the world of the living! You had us worried there. We believed you wouldn’t make it…”

“Wha…?” Odysseus started but again his throat betrayed him

“There, there, stranger…” the woman repeated maternally, “Come on, drink this…”

She slid her arm behind his back and half-raised him with unexpected strength, bringing the goblet to his lips. As the liquid touched those thirsty, dry lips, Odysseus gained strength anew to his arms; the type of strength you get when you need to survive. He greedily downed sips from the drink and aimed to hold it with his weak, shaking hands. He tasted the sweetest drink he ever thought he would taste; it was sweeter than honey, smoother than wine. It was all the tastes he ever knew and none at the same time. He coughed as the drink went down the wrong way but he drank more ignoring some that escaped his lips and down the thick layer of curly hair that adorned his wide chest. He was thirsty! He was thirsty to the point of madness!

“There…there…” the woman repeated, removing the goblet from his lips, “Easy there, take it easy…”

She handed the goblet to her maid who refilled it and she repeated the action, to which Odysseus responded quite the same way before breathing heavily of exhaustion and be lowered slowly back to his pillows. How weak one can be to feel exhausted by drinking from a cup while being held limb by someone else, he thought!

“Rejoice” said the woman standing to her feet, making her braids and jewels clatter with each other, “That’s Nectar you’re drinking; the drink of the gods. Not many humans have the honor of tasting it. It is the only thing capable of giving your strength back, given the state you were in”

The tormented king of Ithaca took a few more breaths; sucking the oxygen with the same thirst as he had drank the godly drink. However he realized that even though his body was still heavy like metal and his limbs weak he wasn’t in so much pain as he used to or at least as much as he could remember. His wounds were also healing as it seemed for they didn’t sting him anymore like burning coals. His burnt by sun shoulders, back and face no longer stung so badly either. He looked at the divine form once more. Her dark skin was perfectly contrasting the white walls of the grotto.

“Who…who are you…?” he managed to whisper with some effort, “Did I die…and somehow ended up to Elysium to be greeted by divine beings…?”

The girls now giggled as their mistress also chuckled softly.

“No, stranger, you are not dead, not yet; even if as it seems the gods are trying very hard to achieve that! You washed up on my isle to the brief of death. I found you and brought you to my home.”

“Then…” the stunned king began, “…who are you…?”

“I am Calypso” the woman replied with a tone of pride and regal aura, “Daughter to Atlas; immortal Nymph and Goddess Protector of Ogygia.”

“A goddess…” Odysseus repeated like an echo

He tried once more to sit up, this time with some success (which however left him exhausted and rasping for breath again).

“Pray tell me, magnificent lady” he began, “Has…”

He hesitated.

“Has…anyone else washed up to your doors? Alive or dead?”

The hope that was biting his heart wouldn’t leave him in peace; no matter what his brain was signaling would be logical. However Calypso’s half-amused look destroyed all the last bits of that hope before the goddess actually spoke.

“Anyone else? No, darling. Just you and it was already a miracle that you survived this. You washed up at my isle in what seemed like half a step from death. I highly doubt there are more people out there who could survive so.”

Odysseus felt his heart sinking. Yes, he expected that blow but it was a blow nonetheless. He felt his body grow weak again. He was struggling really badly to hold himself awake.

“How…how long was I…?”

He had counted around 9 days out in the sea. He assumed it was probably one more since he had lost consciousness more than once but now time escaped him. Calypso smiled again as her honey eyes reflected the light of the sun through her white cave.

“This is the morning of the fourth day you have been unconscious. My maids and I cleaned your wounds and anointed you with oil so that they would heal faster. We gave you a new change of clothes and tried to give you Nectar in hope from dragging you out of death’s door”

That explained the soft clothes that embraced his tormented body. There was so much he wanted to ask; so much he wanted to say… He made a move to sit up even further but his body shivered as if his arms had lost all their previous strength.

“No…” Calypso whispered melodically, “Too soon. You must keep your strength…”

Her touch felt warm against his chest. His senses swam. That delicate hand held strength beyond his comprehension as she firmly pressed him down and yet it was soft and welcome in his tortured soul.

“Goddess…” he began, “I…”

“Shhh…” Calypso whispered again, “Save your strength…sleep…”

Her voice was lulling…even more enchanting now than the Sirens whose forbidden song he was privileged to hear. His head softly touched the pillow as his sight got out of focus. Calypso’s beautiful face was blurred within his swimming, dizzy mind. Suddenly his body felt light…like falling weightlessly to the abyss. Calypso’s voice came as if from a distance even if she was right there above him.

“Sleep…”

Darkness took over him once more…

He was coming in and out of consciousness; that much he could tell, although everything became a blurring mess in his brain. Sometimes in some moments of clarity he could remember where he was; he was in the unknown location of Ogygia, nursed to health by the immoral Calypso…his men all gone…his ship was destroyed… The gloomy thoughts were swimming soon after and he drifted back to a sort of lethargy without beginning or end as if he was falling softly down an unknown hole; softly like a feather that was let go from a bird’s wing. His tormented body finally kept up with the events of the past weeks and soon came the shivers, the tremors, the fever and the dreams. That much Odysseus could remember in those rare moments of clarity that were interrupting his lithe. Body twitching and soaked in sweat, Odysseus the king of Ithaca found himself mumbling incoherent phrases and pledges confusing them with the images that attacked his tortured mind.

“No…ah…no…don’t…there…run…run…”

Twitching arms were moving over the light silky sheets. Twitching fingers grappling the material constantly. Droplets of sweat were always adorning his forehead.

“The wall…the wall…d-don’t…the horse…the horse…oh, gods, mercy…the horse…”

There was fire and screaming; faces of men and women tangled in a mass…there was a whirlpool of water opening up sharp teeth coming for his life. Cries of a baby were being mixed with yelps of pain and screeching of pigs being slain and moans of cows being sacrificed…

“Gods…! Oh, gods…mercy…the horse…the sea…get in…d-don’t…get in…don’t…the horse!”

The material of his shirt was so soaked that was plastered against his chest. He occasionally had to tear the material to be set free; no, he wouldn’t die out there by Poseidon! The material wouldn’t strangle him! Not today!

“No more…ah…gods, mercy…n-no more…! D-Don’t…c-catch it…h-hold it… The horse…gods…in the horse…fire…fire…that voice…gods…gods…make it stop!”

His throat was dry, his chest was clenched by an iron hand.

“No…no…ah…p-please…n-no more…the hair…run…I…I don’t…no…no…”

There was a flash of light and a loud bang then the smell of wine and burning flesh however the source of it he did not know. Then an eye staring at him from the black abyss, crying tears of blood.

“The horse…in the water…gods, mercy…no more…!”

He was falling…softly and slowly but still falling.

“The wall…the horse…in the water…that voice…c-catch…stop…stop the…”

Then there was darkness…

“…No…”

His eyes opened slowly but he was out of focus. There was a dim light around him and whiteness but everything was a blur. He was feeling like burning; both from the outside and the inside. There was a blurry figure at some small distance. His arm extended pleadingly towards it.

“Th-Thirsty…” he whispered as if in a trance, “Please…I’m…thirsty…”

Calypso noticed the movement at the bed and heard the whisper coming so feverishly out of those lips. She saw that wrecked body; those eyes that barely slid open to make a request before falling heavy once more. She smiled.

“Of course…”

She stood up and went to the table, pouring liquid in a goblet. However instead of doing what she did initially she drank deeply from it and leaned down. Her lips covered those burning ones. Odysseus felt the taste of water and honey in his tongue. His throat moved spasmodically and desperately to accept the sweet liquid. The softness of flesh against his lips…the taste of honey on his tongue… Penelope… Only she had breath that smelled of honey… Crusty honey cakes were her favorite snack. She was munching them all the time when she was pregnant to their sweet Telemachus and so her breath always tasted honey and sesame; her body smelt fine olive oil… Those lips desperately moved. Finally he was home… Penelope… His lips softly massaged those soft ones and moved harmoniously to the movement of response he felt. Oh, the longing! The sheer happiness! His lips tasted her again and again, hoping that his strength would come back; that his weak arm and hand that rose to touch that soft cheek would allow him to TRULY embrace her… He wanted to explore further…he wanted to taste more…however his body was sinking anew. Tears escaped his eyes, running and getting lost within his raven curly hair… Just a bit longer…oh, gods, have mercy…let me stay a bit longer… As that head sank down to the pillows, his mouth left hers and he drifted back to a deep sleep. Calypso felt their lips separate and pulled back to look at the sleeping form of the mortal man that washed up so unexpectedly to her isle. She touched her lips with her thumb in comprehension. She could still feel his lips on hers. What a weird sensation!

“Who are you, stranger…?” she thought with a curious smile, “…and you kiss so passionately…?”

Calypso tasted her lips in apprehension and a smirk rose to her face. She was definitely curious now. She leaned over that sleeping form. Her face was inches apart from his. The man beneath her was a mere mortal; he was barely average of height but of amazing physical structure, even though he had obviously lost weight from all the hardships he had to face. He seemed long past the age of his youth but that air of maturity in combination to the hardened features from life and sea gave him a special charm. That raven hair like ram’s fleece and the bushy beard gave him some wild beauty despite the fact that his features were not particularly handsome compared to gods and immortal nymphs. She landed her lips on top his head and between his brows and once more landed on those dry from sea lips, hoping to get that reaction again however Odysseus was so far under his sleep that he didn’t move anymore.

“Who were you thinking of…?” she whispered again, “What secrets do you hide…?”

Her smooth hand soothed that bushy chest and felt the fleece that covered it, feeling the hard muscles beneath. Her hand stopped to feel some tiny scar here and there; obviously reminders of war. The arms and legs obviously belonged to a warrior, a craftsman and a sailor…soft scars that could be done by nothing else but hunting knives and animal teeth could be seen in his fingers. Blisters found at his palms could be done by nothing else but sword shield and bow with arrows. The little hardened skin to his shoulders could be done by nothing else but armor. When she and her maidens were firstly nursing him back to health she noticed a distinct scar to his upper thigh (obviously some animal) and a scar to his abdomen (clearly a reminiscent of a spear). This man was no ordinary man. Calypso slowly rose herself off that sleeping form.

“Well, well, well…” she whispered, “Man with many talents…we shall see what the future holds…”

She caressed his hair gently and took two curly hairs from his head; one jet black and one silver for he had plenty that had started emerging from his obsidian mane like the first thunderbolts in the dark sky.

The light was warm; it was playing tricks between the leaves of the perennial olive trees that intertwined together to form the leg of his beloved bed; the wedding bed he had built with his own hands. And there, there was the familiar corridor of his palace; which he had walked up and down ever since he could remember. It seemed that everything was showered in yellow sunlight. He recognized every corner; every piece of marble, every mural in every wall. It was home; a humble yet perfect for him home.

“Odysseus!”

He turned around. There she was in all her beauty; Penelope, his wife and love approached him and hugged his arm. Her veils were already covering her hair as always when she came out of the chamber. Odysseus looked at her stupefied.

“Penelope?”

“Dear, oh, dear!” Penelope claimed playfully, “There you are! It was about time you came! You’re going to miss the celebration, darling, and it wouldn’t be appropriate, given that you are the honoring person!”

“Penelope?” Odysseus question again, “How…? I mean…when…?”

The love of his life, looking young and fresh like the day he left her for war chuckled in her usual crystal way that opened his heard like a rose.

“My, my! When you drink you don’t know what you’re saying!”

“But…I don’t…!”

The pull in his arm made him stagger forward.

“Well, come on then! You’ll miss the celebrations!”

“Hold on, a second, Penelope… What celebration?”

She chuckled again. Odysseus could swear he could hear that forever.

“But for the anniversary of taking Troy, of course! It was a year ago since the day you came back to us with the joyful news!”

“I’m…home…? I came…back…”

“Well come on! Your son has been preparing for this celebration for weeks! You don’t want to miss his performance now, do you?”

“Father!”

It was a distant voice Odysseus did not recognize. He looked forward towards the entrance that was showered in light. It almost seemed like Helios Hyperion was right outside his door, showering everywhere in light. There at the entrance he saw the silhouette of a young boy, with his arm above his head weaving at him.

“Father!”

“Telemachus!” Odysseus’s voice chocked into his throat

How much had he grown! He was almost a proper young man! The boy’s lean silhouette was still there. Odysseus cried tears of joy. There was a distant song coming from somewhere afar. He didn’t know that melody. There was also the rhythmical sound of someone weaving.

“Father! Come father! Come!”

It was as if an invisible hook was tied at his stomach for suddenly he was pulled towards the light. And then he was engulfed in white…

Odysseus opened his onyx eyes only to find himself to the familiar, now, environment of Calypso’s grotto. There were no more tapestries he knew or halls he had almost built brick by brick but the known white grotto. At the corner there was Calypso. She was humming some melody, moving to and fro. He remembered that song from his vague dream. That voice that could possibly be rivaling the Muses and the Sirens seemed like ringing like a bell in his brain. He work was considered of fine golden thread and patterns Odysseus did not recognize. Her fingers were moving swiftly and yet softly with a dexterity only an immortal goddess could have. For a moment he felt dizzy again but he realized it was much better than he thought. His body was still weak but in an infinitely better condition. His hand cupped his face and ran his fingers through his hair. He was feeling lost. Everything seemed exactly as he had left them before he lost consciousness.

“Forgive me, goddess…” he mumbled, “I fell asleep in the middle of our conversation…”

Calypso halted her movements and turned around to face him. Her shell-like lips formed a smile.

“It is quite a forgivable sin, darling” she replied airily, “Besides what’s a few days before eternity? It all passes like a breath”

“A few day-…?!” Odysseus was astounded, “Why, how long was I…?”

“Around a week this time, my darling.

“A whole week?!”

Calypso chuckled.

“And you gave quite the scare to my poor maids as well. They told me you torn the royal clothes they put on you twice and got alarmed by your voice as they thought you were going under again”

“I was talking in my sleep?”

“You don’t know half of it!” Calypso teased him, “You were mentioning a name quite often though when your phrases could make some sense… I believe it sounded like… ‘Penelope’…?”

Odysseus lowered his eyes in shame. It was already embarrassing enough that he was weaker than a baby and that he had these gorgeous women take care of his basic needs as he was unconscious and to hear he was sleep-talking as well but now that his wife’s name came out in the light he felt exposed.

“She’s my wife…” he finally admitted

Was that a shadow of jealousy that he saw passing flashily before her face like a tiny cloud momentarily shadowing the sun? Maybe he had imagined it, he thought, for her face returned to her previous calm state.

“I see…” Calypso whispered, “That explains a lot actually.”

“What?”

“It must have been her you were thinking of, when you kissed me”

All color left Odysseus’s face. He had no recollection of that event but the way Calypso said it, it sounded true!

“Gods! Forgive me goddess I shouldn’t have done that…!” he rushed to explain

Calypso, though, laughed.

“No need to worry too much, darling. Actually…I quite enjoyed it.”

Odysseus looked at her. His face almost looked like a hurt animal; like the fox that got out of his den to find a hound staring at him.

“You’re the first mortal to kiss me, actually” Calypso continued, “You took me by surprise but I don’t think ill of it”

“P-Please don’t take it the wrong way, goddess…” Odysseus tried to collect himself

His usual eloquent nature was once more gone; somehow lost in the sea and in the dreams; in the song and the spinning wheel.

“I…I was not myself. I shouldn’t have done that”

Calypso smirked again. Odysseus thought he had seen that smile before; a cat before attacking a rabbit at the fields of Ithaca. However her honey eyes shone wholeheartedly.

“Like I said, my dear guest, I quite enjoyed it. You seem to be a man of many talents… Even if…”

Odysseus’s heart clenched once more. The last thing he wanted was to see the bad side of yet another god.

“…you seem to have quite the nerve. You almost seem like you want to insult me by having me at your presence and admitting you mistakenly kissed me, thinking of some mortal woman!”

“I’ve had enough of offending gods for a lifetime, fair Calypso…” Odysseus mumbled fixing himself better in his bed

“Is that so…?” Calypso’s eyes shone again mischievously as she scanned him again, “I think it’s time you revealed who you are, stranger. What is your name? Which is your native land? Answer me truthfully, though. Gods can know when you are lying”

Odysseus lowered his eyes to his lap. Yes, his first instinct would be to conceal himself. He didn’t know what this goddess would think of him but she had saved his life after all. The very least he owed her was honesty and, if anything, indeed the gods often read the mortal soul like an open book.

“Odysseus…of Ithaca” Odysseus mumbled

“Ho?” Calypso brought her hand to her chin amused, “Is that so? Your reputation precedes you, Odysseus son of Laërtes, Man of Many Ways, the Man of Experience, Godly and Equal to Gods, Sacker of Cities… That’s a pretty long string of titles for a mortal! I am impressed. Although I must say that you have created quite a mess for the gods. Poseidon is crossed with you and won’t rest till he sees your destruction after you blinded his son.”

Odysseus lowered his eyes. There was so much he wanted to say and defend himself but as always his past wouldn’t let him… Troy, Polyphemus, the cows of Helios Hyperion… As if noticing his inner battle Calypso smiled softly. She placed a hand under Odysseus’s chin, making her look at her in the eyes. For a moment his eyes god lost inside her honey pools that reflected the sunlight.

“Don’t worry, Odysseus. You are safe here with me. No god would dare to come to my territory unprovoked. They have no reason to come and seek you here. You will be safe…”

Safe… That was a word the tormented king of Ithaca couldn’t really contemplate… However the closeness with the goddess made him feel uncomfortable. There was something in the back of his head that felt wrong but he didn’t even know why or he wouldn’t dare to offend her. He pretended feeling dizzy again and he leaned back to avoid her touch. Calypso smiled and got up.

“My maids shall bring you some food, Odysseus. I believe you are strong enough to eat now. Nectar and potions we created should allow you to heal to that point”

“I am grateful, beautiful goddess…”

“Rest and regain your strength first” Calypso advised sweetly, “The rest shall come…”

The weeks passed and Odysseus was indeed trying his best to keep himself in good condition. A few days more and he could walk about Calypso’s grotto without any problems and soon he felt gaining his old strength back. Eventually he got out of the grotto and got to explore the isle around and know his surroundings. Under the tender care of Calypso and her maids, Odysseus felt like finding himself again. He gained the weight he lost by his cruel misadventures and managed to built his previous physical strength. He could still have an ominous feeling pressing over his chest and more often whatnot he would wake up from his dreams because he would hear a mystical song or someone weaving but he brushed it off. Calypso on the other hand could not help herself feeling more and more for this mortal man that showed up at her door. She would get a glimpse of him diving into the waters of her isle to gather mollusks and shells. Others with similar experiences might not even want to be near the sea but not Odysseus. Odysseus was different. She was observing him from afar and hoped to join with him. The curiosity of how humans made love already excited her yet alone now that this man had showed up at her door; a man whose wits seemed to rival the gods. She wondered if that was what made this king attractive in her eyes or maybe his mortal nature; this ephemeral essence of human existence that would disappear one day. She hoped to get closer…much closer to him. However that seemed impossible. Odysseus seemed to be like a fort; closed behind walls he built around his heart. During their countless conversations they would speak on a variety of subjects but every time she asked him about himself and his emotions he would grow distant from her. He closed up like a clamp and refused to elaborate. It frustrated her that she could not get a way to his heart; console his pain and maybe provide a missing piece. It was the first time the immortal goddess had discovered someone as lonely as she was feeling. She looked down at the end of the valley and saw Odysseus. He was shirtless from the waist and above and was chopping some wood for the grotto. It was good for him to have some work to distract himself, or so he had said. Quite frankly Calypso could stare forever. She felt incredibly jealous of Penelope, the woman that had so much influence on him without even being there! If only she had a way to his heart! She looked at her work; her tapestry of gold thread…she looked at the tiny black and the tiny silver hairs that were incorporated to the sea of crimson and gold. She smiled apprehensively. Odysseus was cunning but so could she.

Odysseus walked back into the chamber, wiping the sweat off his body with his shirt. He entered the chamber only to see the maids of Calypso, the nymphs he had learnt by name by now, waiting for him.

“What is it, Ipomea?” he asked the girl who came first to him

“My lord…” the nymph replied respectfully (although the giggles behind her surely didn’t help her), “My mistress requires your presence at the pavilion”

“The goddess? Whatever for?”

“If it pleases you, my lord, we have prepared your bath, aromatic oils and my mistress arranged your clothes for you.”

“My, my, it sounds important!” Odysseus smiled, “Well…it’s not proper to let the good goddess wait then…”

He entered the tub that was filled with water to the temperature he liked and let himself to the hands of the maids who washed him from top to bottom helped him dry himself and anointed his body with aromatic oils. They dressed him in fine crimson that night that slithered across his body like water. They brushed his hair and trimmed his beard, tied a goldthread headband around his head and wore golden sandals to his feet. Yes, Calypso did that a lot; she was picking clothes for him and making sure he didn’t want of anything but yet some part of his soul was always ringing a bell; resisting as if by instinct. Dressed up at the godly clothes made by Calypso, Odysseus walked about the grotto to climb to the pavilion. The pavilion was basically a small half-closed terrace; an opening to the cave, which allowed Calypso to lay upon her bench and stare to the openness of the sea. He was summoned there before but never so late in the evening. He wondered what it was all about. He reached the dimly lit pavilion and he stopped in amazement. Calypso was already there lying on her couch lazily. She was dressed in a magnificent garment; a cloth to the color of amber that was bringing out her complexion and her honey eyes. Her braided hair was adorned with gold and pearls and neatly arranged. Odysseus could smell her aromatic oils even from the entrance. Calypso was very careful when she chose that dress. She wanted something to let out her beauty without making it too obviously provoking. She knew that Odysseus would be too clever to fall for such a trick. Sensing his presence she smiled.

“Odysseus! I am so glad you came!” she said in her low, melodic voice

Odysseus scanned the pavilion. There were torches to light it and some candles. There was a second bench waiting undoubtedly for himself and in the middle he saw the large gold-pleated crater that was already being stirred by the nymphs. Calypso had chosen the best godly wine in her cellar and she made sure she gave clear instructions to her maids to keep the analogy 3 to 1 so that the godly drink would be strong and savory.

“Come, sit with me, darling,” she said pointing at the other bench with her bracelet-adorned hand, “there is wine and dinner waiting”

Odysseus smiled.

“Goddess…” he returned her greeting with a bow of his head, “What’s the occasion?”

Calypso smiled a cat-like smile.

“But you returning back to health, of course” she replied with winged words, “I can tell by the way you prance about my grotto that you have finally reached your original strength”

“I have” Odysseus confirmed kneeling by her bench, he took her hand in his, “And it’s all thanks to you, goddess…”

He gratefully kissed her hand. Calypso shivered as those lips touched her immortal flesh. Oh, she adored him! She wanted to explore more of him! However she knew she had to be patient if she wanted Odysseus to become hers. She drew her hand back chuckling.

“Now, now, Odysseus!” she said airily, “Let us not get stuck in such…trifles! Let us just enjoy this night that is so beautiful. Let us not worry of yesterday or tomorrow”

“Couldn’t agree more, goddess” Odysseus smiled taking his place to the bench right opposite her.

Calypso smiled.

“Wine?”

“If you please…”

Calypso signaled at her maid to serve from the crater the ruby liquid. Odysseus brought it to his lips and tasted the rich taste of the drink.

“This wine belongs to the best year of my isle. My land is as you know rich. We do not want of anything here…” she looked at him again, scanning him with her eyes, “What do you think…?”

“Exquisite…”

Calypso raised her cup in a toast.

“To life then!”

“To life”

The two of them sat at the pavilion all evening talking on various subjects. Odysseus told her about the airs of the Aegean and the lands he met on his way to Troy, the mountains of Parnassus and the crops, the ships and warfare, circle of seasons and many more while Calypso talked about the stars and the sky, the secrets of the cycle of epochs and the song of the birds of Ogygia. The hours passed without Odysseus realizing it. Calypso had given clear orders to her maids to make sure that Odysseus’s cup would never empty and every time he would try and refuse she would try to lure him with yet another toast or some small talk for distraction. She knew however that he wouldn’t really refuse if she asked. She had come to know he was afraid to displease her. She had invited him there and he felt it was his duty to obey her requests. He wouldn’t refuse her out of fear that he would offend her. She watched him sip the red liquid away and his cheeks flare from the alcoholic beverage and his eyes shine in inebriation and yet his defenses were still strong for he refused to open up every time Calypso would try to sneak in a more personal question. He might still discuss different matters and laugh every time a maid mentioned something but she could tell he was still hiding many things inside him. Calypso knew she had to be careful. She was absolutely certain that Odysseus despite the fact that the wine was making his speech slower and his reactions more lethargic, that he could understand perfectly well what was going on and that he would be perfectly cognitive. She had to advance softly if she needed him to open up. She needed an opportunity. And she found it. At some point as Odysseus was pretty much completely drunk she realized that shadow of melancholy passing from his eyes. Yes, she knew that look. It was the look he got every time he lost himself in deep thought.

“Odysseus…?” she called at him in her melodic singing voice, “Odysseus…?”

“Hm?”

“Do you find my company that unpleasant, Odysseus?”

Odysseus looked at her. She saw those eyes, those eyes that resembled obsidian, looking at her and she felt almost weak in her legs.

“No, goddess…” he eventually replied sluggishly

“Then why do you look so gloom?” Calypso questioned, “I am here to entertain you; so we can celebrate your recovery back to health and you sit there looking sad. Please talk to me, what’s wrong…?”

“G-Goddes…”

“Don’t you trust me, Odysseus…?”

Odysseus froze.

“I…”

Such an easy question and such a difficult answer it would need! Odysseus tried to find the proper words and force that stupid tongue of his that had turned sluggish in his mouth and explain. However the dizziness wouldn’t let him to concentrate. Perhaps he shouldn’t have drunk so much! Calypso, on the other hand, could almost feel his head wheels running, cornered by her direct question.

“Please, Odysseus…” she said in a mellow tone, “Open up to me, darling. I want to help you…”

Just a bit more, she thought, just a little more. She looked at him again; how he was gazing her with those eyes glistering from unshed tears and wine. For one second she wondered that maybe he was too drunk and that she should have stopped earlier but she dismissed the thought. Only in the condition he was now he would be able to drop his defenses and finally trust her even for a little bit.

“Talk to me, Odysseus…”

And, finally, Odysseus talked. He could not contain his emotions any longer as he spoke to her of his experiences; of how he faced contempt in Troy, of how they were captured by Polyphemus, of the agony of the trip…how he saw his mother in the underworld who told him she died of grief…how his son waited in Ithaca; the son he never saw to grow and finally the brutal deaths of his comrades… And then she saw the man break...there she saw him come undone... He talked and tears were flowing from his eyes like rivers, wetting the cloth he wore and he seemed inconsolable till he managed to muster some of his self-control and try to stop. Calypso slowly got up and sat beside him. He clearly was in no state to walk.

“My darling…” she whispered maternally embracing him

She kissed his head and forehead and she pulled him closer, letting him lean his head to her bosom. She rocked him softly.

“My poor tormented darling…”

She realized that he was probably at his limit so she signaled at her maid with her eyebrows not to refill his cup, which she placed aside. Odysseus was feeling his lips tingling; his stomach was upset and his head was turning like a top and yet that soft embrace seemed to be soothing him. His head was heavy as he leaned to her chest, struggling to keep his eyes open.

“G-Goddess…I…” he mumbled

Calypso leaned over to his ear and she whispered in a tone that rang to his mind like a silent bell.

“Shall we go, my darling…?” Calypso whispered directly in his ear, “Shall we go to bed…?”

He shook his head. It wasn’t a yes and it wasn’t a no. He was completely inebriated. Calypso passed one arm behind his waist and she raised them all up with unexplainable strength. Odysseus was led almost completely limb in her arm towards the chamber and it made him realize for one more time he difference between gods and mortals; Calypso’s body that looked fragile and feminine held strength enough to crush him if she wanted to. And yet she was being gentle with him…she had saved his life. This detail shouldn’t be concerning him, right? As Calypso led him and helped him lie down the bed his eyes truly couldn’t remain open. He closed them feeling the world spinning around him like a top. He fathomed he should sleep. His head was feeling heavy.. Calypso watched him and for a second she was tempted to kiss him; taste those lips of his. However she was almost certain that Odysseus would remember everything of that night. She didn’t want to ruin her opportunity. She smiled like a spider watching her web.

‘Soon, my love…soon you will forget those sorrows…here with me…”

~~~~

So here's the second part of this story and Odysseus beached in Ogygia with his life and yet things are about to be difficult for him. Now the reason I chose Calypso to have dark complexion was mainly because I was enamoured with The Odyssey (1997) and I thought it would be a fun idea to explore. Her house in Ogygia in my story is at Gozo in Malta.

Now for Odysseus's visions I was inspired by the amazing soundtrack from "The Perfume"

youtube

I was also heavily inspired by Gladiator movie for them.

I figured Odysseus would be incredibly weak for days after his ordeal. And I tried to add some more details to make it look more like Calypso fell for him.

Odysseus fell ill because when he finally relaxed, all his anxiety was basically striking his body mercilessly. Now his mumbles were not supposed to make any sense and they were random based on his adventures. Now if someone wants to make something out of them, the most infamous horse he is related to is the Trojan horse but also the horse is a symbol of Poseidon so maybe just maybe it refers to Poseidon as well hahahaha!

He tears his clothes because in his delirioum when the clothes plaster on him, he feels as if he is back at the sea struggling alone

The "honey crackers" exist in Greece even today and they are called παστέλι (pasteli). It is a savory snack made of sesame seeds and honey. Sesame existed as crop in Greece since homeric times. Which is why I put it here. Quite frankly I am not sure if it was a thing in bronze age when Odysseus lived but hey if Homer can use anachronism so can I! Hahahahaha

Also suspicious suspicious that Odysseus seems to be healling "happy" in the island hahahaha! That is because some people interpret Calypso weaving and singing while moving to and fro as her enchanting him. In my story he is basically subtly enchanted to "forget" some parts of his sorrow to stay and heal. Calypso thought she could bind him but his will is stronger so her magic only reaches a superficial level.

In this I wanted Odysseus to suffer fates that he imposed to his enemies or were imposed to his friends and he was spared for example lethe (Lotus Eaters) drunkeness (Polyphemus)etc.

For Calypso I was inspired by a spider spinning a web.

I hope the last part will come soon!

As always I shall thanks @loco-bird @tunguszka20 @doob-or-something @jarondont @prompted-wordsmith @simugeuge @ilov3b00kss0much @fangirlofallthefanthings

#odysseus #katerinaaqu writing #greek mythology #odyssey

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sohin-ace · 3 years ago

Text

Jolyne - No Ordinary Girl

Mermaid Y/N x Surfer Jolyne

Today was a particularly fitting day to go to the beach. Jotaro had taken Jolyne, Hermes and Foo Fighters to the shore. He mostly went for some observation and the girls decided they would take advantage of the nice weather for some surfing.

It was not long after they arrived and started installing themselves that Jolyne and Hermes' eyes fell into very familiar faces.

Annasui, upon seeing the group, walked towards the girls with a confident stance, making sure his long hair was flowing in the wind.

"Oh look who we have here. The ladies victory." Annasui exclaimed, before completely falling heart-eyed, his voice and tone softening, dreamy even, at the sight of his object of worship. "Hi Jolyne~"

"Oh! Weather Report's there! Hi Weas!" Jolyne called out to the older man arranging a parasol a few feet behind, her completely ignoring the pink haired-male that seemed to have come with him. He waved shortly at Jolyne in response.

"Anyways, what are you guys up to?" Hermes asked, sipping on some lime flavored granita.

"Well, as you can see..." He pointed at the ocean, "We just wanted to take a day to work out a bit, but the waves are real nice today."

He leaned in not so subtly towards Jolyne, despite Hermes' evident judging gaze.

"But you know what else is real nice today?" He brought his hand up to cup Jolyne's chin, but before he could even say or do anything, Jolyne leaned away and pointed behind him.

"Oh wow! My dad's coming back with drinks!" She called nonchalantly, looking behind Annasui like he was more transparent than air itself.

"...! DRINKS?! DRINKS!!" Foo Fighter gasped, pushing the feminine man off to the side with such force, he fell and slid against the sand.

"Hey, Jojo," Hermes tapped her friend's shoulder, "Let's show these pendejos how girls ride waves."

The Asian American smirked, eager to show who's boss and always ready to follow on her best friend's mischief. "I'm racing you then."

"Pfft, I won't go easy girlfriend." The Mexican cracked her knuckles and grabbed her plank.

After surfing for long enough and being outran by Jolyne's stamina, Hermes decided to go back and sunbathe next to F.F's who was playing cutely with sand.

Jolyne glided full speed over the water, the wind and droplets of salty water refreshing her skin. More than competition, Jolyne loved the acceleration, the adrenaline, the sweet fresh air through her long hair. When she was surfing, Jolyne's heart lightened up and her mind purged of any negative thoughts, anxiety, fears.

She was at peace.

Before she could enjoy the sweet taste of her peace of mind though, she caught up to a blond surfer in front of her who she recognized as she got closer. Oh god, not him of all people.

"Oh, hey! Isn't that the sexiest surfer in all Miami?" Romeo teased, admiring the girl who gained up on him, "Not bad, look at you go! Who knew my little Jojo would be so talented, hot damn!"

Jolyne frowned and clicked her tongue. She swore if she wasn't so focused on staying in balance, she would drown him on the spot. He laughed obnoxiously, satisfied with being a disgusting excuse of a human.

"Romeo, I swear to fuckin-"

Before she could even finish her sentence, something, a gigantic fish tail appeared out of the wave and flicked itself right accross the blonde, slapping him off of his plank with a painful sound.

"HUAARGHH-" He screamed before crashing into the water with the splash and disappearing behind Jolyne.

"O-OH MY GOD!" She gasped, both surprised by the sudden turn of events, and incredibly scared for her life, thinking some kind of hostile shark was in the shore currently, which was to report immediately.

The moment she decided to take a turn and leave as fast as she could, warning the others to get the hell out of here, a shadowy form within the water followed her along the wave.

Foolishly curious, Jolyne looked at it, not without her heart hammering in her chest at the potential danger she was facing.

What she saw was not a sight she'd have ever expected to ever see in all her 19 years. Her legs shook at the shock and she almost completely fell over her board.

Gliding along the water right next to her, right inside the tall wave, was the figure of... a girl.

Or was it a girl? It couldn't be. She looked human at first glance, but the more Jolyne's gaze moved sideways she noticed the long and impressive fish tail replacing what were supposed to be legs.

Jolyne's jaw felt slack. She felt like she was hallucinating. Believe it or not, she had not smoked or taken any recreative substances beforehand, but she truly wished she had because that would have at least explained what her eyes were showing her.

The girl swimming and following her only smiled, waving cutely with webbed hands, as if amused by Jolyne's disbelieving reaction and wide eyes.

"W-w-w.... What the fuck..???" Jolyne finally spoke after rebooting her entire brain, "No fucking way-...! A mermaid??!! A real one??!"

Like a bad trick from fate, the wave Jolyne was trying her hardest to not get swallowed by, seemed to grow weaker and weaker, shortening in size.

Jolyne saw the mermaid slowly retreat away in an elegant swim, her form vanishing into the deep blue.

"Wait, no!" The surfer called, almost desperate to have such a mystical meeting and ethereal moment be so short lived.

She reached her hand out to the creature, unsure of what she was even trying to do, but the force of the current got the best of her, and Jolyne lost balance, falling forward with nothing to hang onto for purchase.

Jolyne splashed onto the water and the wave died with her hope of ever living such a dream again.

"Ooohh dang it! You were almost there!" Hermes called out from the shore, her voice booming enough for Jolyne to hear as she broke into the surface.

"Fuck...." Jolyne cursed, hanging onto her board.

She felt defeated. Not because she couldn't ride that wave to the very end as she was expected to with her skill level, but rather because she couldn't immortalize that beautiful moment.

She blankly climbed onto her board again and barely even paddled her way back to land, too out of it to do so.

Was that even real? That had to be, right? She saw the mermaid. She saw her hair, her skin tone shined-on by the sun. She saw the scales over her skin, the fins along her arms and tail.

She saw her attack Romeo, he must have seen her too, Jolyne pondered.

"Aaah the champion is back!" F.F cheered as Jolyne finally walked back, drenched and with her plank under one arm. "I made a sandcastle for our ocean queen!"

"Thanks Foo..." Jolyne's small smile didn't not match her quiet tone.

"Hey, what's up, chula ? You look like you've seen a ghost, or something? You did great back there, so why the long face?" Hermes fixed the straps of Jolyne's bikini top and removed some seaweeds from her hair.

"It's just... I saw something weird it the water and I don't know..." Jolyne hesitated, "Maybe I was dreaming or something."

"Hum..." Hermes hummed in thought. "What do you think Féfé?"

"Maybe Mr. Jotaro can answer if you saw an animal? Damn, I'm thirsty." F.F stuck her tongue out, clearly expressing her thirst.

"Dude, there's water litterally everywhere here." The mexican grimaced before turning back to Jolyne. "But yeah, maybe you should ask your dad if that worries you so much."

"Uhh..."

Jolyne looked towards her father who was crouching somewhere next to some rocks, taking notes about mollusks, or so Jolyne guessed.

"Yeah, maybe not. It's fine though, no big deal." She smiled, waving her hand in dismissal.

Shrugging it all off, the girls decided to join Weather Report and Jotaro who brought food to finish the day at the beach with a relaxing touch.

And so, the day ended with an uncanny normalcy for Jolyne, who kept thinking more and more as the sun set, that it all had been in her mind. Mermaids didn't exist. It was probably a Stand user playing tricks on her.

That what she wanted to believe. When she thought of all the events that would follow, she truly wished she had spoken to her father about it. After all, if he had fought a very real vampire, then there would be no doubt that something as crazy as a mermaid could exist in her bizarre adventure.

Jolyne came back to the beach that same week. Alone, this time. She was careful to come by the time the sun started to lower in the sky and the temperature of the water and air dropped, knowing tourists and athletes would be gone by this time.

'What now?' She thought. Coming back out of sheer curiosity was a thing, but making sure she could attract the creature back to her was something else.

"Should I bring food? What do mermaids even eat? Does she like hot dogs...?" Jolyne thought out loud, looking around, secretly glad no one was here to hear her talk mad nonsense to herself like some insane crackhead.

She approached the water and drenched her feet in the small rocking waves, coming and going her way and gently splashing her. She hesitated for a moment, remembering that along with the legend of mermaids came the fact that these creatures were known to attract and enchant humans by their beauty, leading them to their inevitable death.

So maybe, Jolyne accepted, she was destined to die in the ocean.

Just as she came hip-deep into the sea, she felt a strange current shaking her legs, almost knocking her out of balance.

Before she could even process how strange it felt, she looked down into the clear water and saw no less than the same huge colorful fish tail she had seen that very day.

She gasped in realization and soon enough screamed as she felt calloused hands grab her thighs, the creature pushing herself out of the water to be met face to face with the human who had been, unbeknownst to Jolyne, her newfound fixation.

"Y-WHAAAAAHH!!!" Jolyne hollered, not expecting such a strong and surprising appearance.

The mermaid still halfway into the water, climbed and gripped up the girl's hips for leverage. She looked up at Jolyne's face, smiling wide and eyes glinting in both adoration and mischief.

"Greetings."

"HOLY CRAP-" Jolyne's voice cracked, "I mean- fuck yes! I mean-..."

Poor Jojo was completely out of it. But who could blame her, though? It was not everyday that one got to meet a real mermaid in the flesh. And certainly not such a handsy one.

She cleared her throat and mustered her most suave voice, pretending she wasn't completely flustered by the sheer beauty before her.

"Hi."

"I knew you'd come back..." The mermaid spoke, her voice almost ethereal and distant, "They always do."

Jolyne's heart wanted to stop. God, she felt burning hot and was sweating everywhere. Her voice stilled Jolyne to place in a way she couldn't explain. The legendary creature was so impossibly close to her, bodies almost touching.

She noticed she couldn't stay up overwater any other way than using Jolyne's lean body for leverage, her heavy tail anchoring her down. But the warm proximity between them and the sight of such a beautiful, rare and mystical creature right under her chest felt unreal and exciting.

Jolyne wanted to look her over for hours. Her hair texture, drenched and flowy, her skin tone glowing like gold, her holographic scales and fins shining like crazy diamonds.

"Why... Why did you...? Of all people...?" Jolyne questionned, now wondering if their first meeting in that wave was really a trick of fate, or if she was chosen in any way. "You attacked Romeo, yet you showed up to me... Why me?"

"I like beautiful humans." The mermaid smiled, her radiant features and smooth voice making Jolyne's legs weak, "You're beautiful."

The young surfer couldn't help her heart shaking and the wave of warmth spreading through her chest. If it was anyone else, she would boast her obvious beauty or maybe flip them off. But now she couldn't. Being complimented by a mythical being that was already the most gorgeous thing Jolyne had ever witnessed was truly something else

"What's your name?" Jolyne started.

"Call me Y/N."

Y/N, Jolyne's mind echoed. Cute. Even mermaids had names, she thought before realising that may be a very stupid thought to have. She didn't really know what else to expect.

"I uh, I'm Jolyne..." She looked down into the water, somewhat not daring to look at Y/N's adorable curious and sensual gaze. Oh god that was bad, she was entrancing.

"Not to be gay but...You look cute. Hot even. Can I say that? That's not weird, right? Since ya know... You're not exactly human, but you're not an animal either, like... I'm not gonna get arrested for this... I hope..."

"I'm not too familiar with human tongue, but I think Ms.Jolyne looks really pretty as well." Y/N moved to wrap an arm around Jolyne's waist, gripping her for better leverage and pointing at her chest, right in her reach. "Healthy mammals, great for feeding the young."

"Mammals...? Oh! You mean my boobs?" Jolyne glanced at her modest chest before grinning at the creature, "Aw thanks! Finally someone who likes them who's not some degenerate creep!"

Jolyne's chuckle died down and she finally took the time to look over Y/N's face. She ran a cold hand over her much warmer cheek, gliding it down to her gilled neck, mesmerized by her anatomy.

It truly was a one-in-a-lifetime meeting. Jolyne was slowly comprehending her luck to be met with a legendary sea creature like her. And a friendly one, at that.

How could this be even real? Our human knew that even though she was feeling relatively serene at the moment, the adrenaline would come down later and she would most likely cry herself to sleep.

"Hey uhm..." Jolyne was at a loss for words. There were so many things to say, but at the same time, she couldn't speak a word.

"Hm?" Y/N hummed and closed her eyes, enjoying the human's gentle touches.

Merfolks would express themselves via physical ministrations the most in the ocean, but she knew well a lot of humans did not share intimacies, or at least not before building a certain bond.

Glad that Jolyne was open to it, the sea-bound girl squeezed both her arms around the human's waist lovingly, forcing endearment on Jolyne, who felt her own heart tighten at the sweet and adorable embrace. The girls wanted to keep each other.

"Will we see each other again? I mean, I know you shouldn't be noticed by the public for your safety, but I don't know... Guess I took a liking to you or something." Jolyne mumbled, still resting her hands mindlessly around the creature's shoulders, fiddling with the ridges of her dorsal fin.

Y/N smiled, a smile that looked empty on her fish eyes, but sincere regardless. She let go of Jolyne who couldn't quite take her own hands off of her, clinging a little bit longer.

"Don't you know this, Ms. Jolyne? When human women die in the ocean, they relive as our kind."

"What? Really?" Jolyne let the mermaid get away slowly, ready to swim off to some unknown destination.

"If you want to see me again," Y/N called out cutely, waving her webbed hand like the very first time she saw Jolyne surfing, "Then perish in the ocean!"

She grinned, diving into the deep blue and splashing her tall tail strongly, giving herself a boost of speed, and disappearing away.

Jolyne could only stare into the horizon, darkening as the night arrived, stunned into place.

"...Ok, that was metal as fuck..."

H2O Just Add Water opening, but with Jolyne, Hermes and F.F

#jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo #jjba #reader insert #x reader #writing #jojo no kimyou na bouken #part 6 #jojo part 6 #stone ocean #jolyne cujoh #jolyne #jolyne x reader #jolyne kujo #jolyne kujo x reader #mermaid au #fantasy au #mermaid reader

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ohheyitsokay · 3 years ago

Text

found

pairing: Paz Vizsla x reader

wordcount: 3.3k

warnings: brief mentions of cannon typical violence, the general awkwardness of writing a new character, fluff

summary: you're someone surprisingly good st finding lost things, and you find a Mandalorian - who's looking for home

Trying to get over my need to over explain things by leaving random plot holes. Don’t think about it too hard.

The charred remnants of the base were in tragic, disorganized, smoking piles all around you.

Feet still, you breathed in through your nose and out through your mouth, too tired to be in awe of what had taken place, too overwhelmed to realize that you were unscathed.

When a figure stepped out from behind one of the heaps, only your eyes moved, impressed in spite of yourself that they had managed to stay silent. It was a being barricaded in armor, solid like they were carved from the mountain around you, but blue, shockingly, wonderfully, beautifully blue.

You wondered if you had it in you to fight him.

It hadn’t been so long ago, that you’d met other Mandalorians – their helmets so full of pompous you wondered how they could fly. As he walked closer, you noticed that he did not look like them, did not hold his chin so high it begged to be knocked with the blunt end of a weapon. There was pride in his shoulders still, but no more than was in yours, and he approached you with empty hands.

“What happened here?” his voice had a rumble but he seemed curious, not disbelieving or angry.

“I tricked them,” you told him, and you were surprised to find yourself unafraid of telling him plainly. “I was looking for a missing flock of sant birds, and found them plumping the bellies of imperial troops.” You gestured loosely to a sparse gaggle of silly little beaked creatures tied a string toward the edge of the rubble. “I muddled the communication signals until they believed there was an incoming attack, and their would-be rescuers believed their own troops were the enemy.”

The Mandalorian's back straightened slightly and his helmet tilted.

“You did that for sant birds?”

“I have no love for imps or those who take what is not theirs,” it came out defensive, although he hadn’t belittled your choice. “It was more effective than I expected, but there were not many living who are not anymore, just droids.”

“You are one who finds what it lost?” there was a question there, but not one spoken aloud, and the subtext screamed.

“Can I help you find something, Mandalorian?”

His shoulders rose slightly - just a hair, really - and you couldn’t sworn his helmet dipped.

“Yes.”

Your fingers danced along the buttons and levers of the ship’s control panels, waiting for a command from your mind that would never come. They moved when you thought, searching for a memory – you couldn’t help it.

Next to you, Paz watched, amused as your sharp eyes were unfocused, mouth open just slightly with unspoken words.

“What are you thinking of, little one?” he asked, as quiet as he could manage, snapping you back to the present.

“When we first met,” you turned to him with a smile that made him fidget in his seat. It baffled him, how good you were, and how steady you’d been by his side.

Paz didn’t respond with words, just a thoughtful hum as he watched the stars race by in streaks. You didn’t know, but he was a little embarrassed by it – how enraptured he’d been by you, how quickly he trusted you.

After being separated from his clan, injured and angry, he had spent months stewing and brewing plans for finding his brethren again to no avail. Paz even hitched rides with strangers and picked up less than ideal work, hoping for something of his people to point him in the right direction.

Still healing, he settled on a little planet known for its rumors, known for spreading and sharing information so fresh it hadn’t had time to be twisted. It was there that he waited for words of Mandalorians, met the… other clans, and it was where he heard of you.

On the surface you weren’t remarkable, the whispers said, just a traveler with an uncanny ability to find lost things, and just smart enough to bend the world to your will and just slippery enough to stay one step ahead of genuine trouble. They said you were caring and cunning and clever and had a knack for judging a person’s character. From word alone he liked that, liked you.

The farmer who owned the barn he was sleeping in told Paz that he had asked you to find an old necklace of his mothers. A day later, both the necklace and a long lost sister were joining them for dinner, and you shrugged off both the thanks and the payment with a smile. Paz knew, because he had heard you distantly, through the weathered slats of the barn, and it stayed with him.

The dismissive words reminded him of home - the first reminder that wasn’t painful - evoking moments that were sweeter than the ache of loss. He would have said the same thing, when the Mandalorian’s who were not warriors requested his help. It wasn’t strict custom, but the way, to accept meals instead of money, stories instead of useless metal. Your actions, words, and far-away laughter reminded him of his home.

And when he found you, uninjured, a glint of satisfaction in your eyes and pride in your shoulders as you spoke casually about justice he couldn’t go back. You were almost glowing in the light of the still smoldering embers, gorgeous and determined and he knew he only had one choice – one shot take you with him.

Paz wasn’t in the habit of making promises he wasn’t absolutely sure he keep but he made himself one that day, buried it like a time capsule somewhere in his chest.

And then immediately put it to the test, by testing you.

He looked over at you, your hands now fiddling with your chair, and he fought the urge to mimic the movements. “I evaluated you,” he hoped you could hear that he was smiling.

You snorted, an impolite noise that made want to laugh.

Standing, you widened you stance comically lifting your limbs in an effort to be bigger, mocking him and saying “If I hire you, little one, I must know that I can trust you,” in an exaggerated tone. The exact words he’d told you after his test was over, something you teased him about often. Paz was laughing, but he wondered if you liked how deep his voice was – it was the key change to your mimicry. Looking satisfied with yourself, you settled down again, reminiscing.

The test had been to accompany him on a mission he’d picked up for extra cash – there were plenty of opportunities to be reckless but you gambled with neither his life nor your own. It was one of those circumstances where you were moving and guarding cargo for a rich young diplomat. He told you afterwards he wanted to see if you’d pocket anything beyond your payment, and of course you hadn’t.

“I passed with flying colors.”

The mission had veered left, when a misinformed bounty hunter pressed the tip of a blaster against your throat. At the time you were nearly strangers, but you didn’t give him up, even when you realized the bounty hunter was looking for a woman.

Paz was as in awe of you then as he was now. You agreed to help him the remnants of his clan, and to travel with him, and his promise to himself remained intact.

He nodded.

When he was young, Paz had a sweetheart, a kind Mandalorian girl with whom he enjoyed spending time with. It fizzled as apprenticeships and training were traded politics and responsibilities, and he had always had fond memories of that time.

It paled in comparison to how he felt about you.

You had been searching on your own for something you swore would help your search, and had been gone for days. If he hadn’t been sure before, he was certain now – what you were to him was infinitely more than anything else he had ever known. Still, he felt like a schoolboy, missing you, glancing at the door to the ship with eagerness every time he heard a creak.

He had thought for weeks it was because you felt like home, had been sure it was your ease with mando'a and his culture that made take to you like a duck to water. It made sense, he reasoned with himself. Of course he missed his family, those he was raised alongside, the very people who gave him purpose in life - of course he was looking for any scrap or taste of that wherever he could get it. Nevermind that your smile made him feel like he’d been stunned, it was just because your personal culture fit his like pieces of his armor.

Anyone would have been pleased, half smitten with someone who allowed then onto their ship, especially one as functional as yours. It was perfectly reasonable that he was comfortable with you, since you were always so thoughtful and honest and caring.

And you were talented, useful, that was all. The reason he valued you so highly was that you made his life easier, matched him step to step and balanced out his strength.

But that was all over now. It was special, how well you fit with him, and not to be taken lightly the vulnerability you gave as you shared your space and rations and time with him. All those other things were true, certainly, tenfold the longer you stayed in his company, but he could no longer explain away how much lighter his heart felt when you trotted into the ship, windblown hair and triumphant eyes.

He wanted you to be by his side, preferably if you wanted to be there.

Standing, he moved towards you, wishing he could hug you as you unceremoniously dumped your supplies on the floor. Instead, he picked them up, piling them or putting them back where they belong as you both filled each other in onto the days passed.

Eventually, the suspense overflowed, your excitement bubbling out of you.

“I got it!” your voice did something when you were excited that he couldn’t quite put his finger on, but it made him smile.

“Got what?” Paz swallowed a cyar'ika.

Eagerly, you produced a small drive and plugged it into the display, saying, “A map!” with pride.

“We already have a map,” That time, he nearly choked on the mesh'la his instincts insisted on, looking at you with genuine confusion.

When you grabbed his gloved hand, he thought he might never let it go.

“Not one like this, Paz.” You turned to the floating miniatures, and he only watched your face under their glow a moment longer before he tore himself away to look as well.

It was distracting, how close you stepped to him as you pointed, but your words were thick with value.

The map had details of Mandalorian sightings and rumors and stories. Even more than that, many of the planets had extra information tacked on, about resource numbers. Paz drank them in, your excitement finally making sense as he realized you were starting to highlight the ones where imported goods didn’t match the populations reported. Your voice was telling him you’d find them soon, that for him, you would do whatever it takes. His longing had become yours, in this little ship half buried in the dirt, under the expanse of the sky.

His hand found your shoulder, gently turning you and carefully, carefully, he hugged you.

The first three planets they chased were driven by pure, unadulterated excitement. He was eager for his brothers, eager to go back to protecting those who raised him and those who were being raised alike. Eager to be home, wherever that may be.

But as the weeks wore on, a realization settled in his mind. Finding home would mean your job was complete – his loss would be you, instead of his tribe.

And he did not like that thought at all.

It became a harsh contrast to his eagerness, as jarring as cool water cracking over heated metal, raising a stink that made his eyes threaten to fill. With each lead the two of you chased, there was a twist in his gut, anticipation suddenly less solid in his heart.

Your ship was nice, cozy and reliable, and he had filled his bunk with anything he found in the markets that reminded him of home. In between searches, you always managed to find the littlest work for the highest pay off – and really, work for a Mandalorian and his lovely, cunning companion was more than available. It was nice, filling your little kitchenette with foods you had introduced to him, and whatever he could get his hands on of the ingredients from his memories.

It wasn’t the same as his old home, with the people and culture who had shaped him, but it was something, and he… liked it, a lot.

He had gotten used to you, the way when his frustration built how you’d match it when he needed to, or lock him in a room with a pile of rations, or slip your hand between the gaps of his armor and rub circles with your thumb. Once he’d gotten in his head about the Mandalore, gone so far he wanted to fight everything that moved, maybe even stop some of them from breathing. You walked right up to him, wrapped your arms around his neck and leaned your weight on him until he remembered to breathe. And he didn’t really think anyone else in the galaxy would’ve done that.

So how could he give that up?

There was an elderly woman, Kori, who had missed the battle. Paz told you excitedly that she was fierce and had fought the armorer for the right to travel, unaware of the trouble that followed his brother-in-arms and the child.

You had set up the meeting at a little cantina you knew, and watched as Paz paced around your ship in his newly polished armor.

The last few months with him had been like a dream – and you had never been more selfish. When you’d met this Mandalorian you had been in awe, despite the previous encounters with the beskar-clad race. More than his formidable size, he cared fiercely, almost seeming larger by the passion that filled his frame.

And the more time you spent listening to his stories, why it all mattered so much to him, and having him listen to you in turn, the more thankful you were that he found you, and continued to let you help him in his search. He didn’t need you, not really. The man was resourceful and intimidating and held himself with the confident grace of a predator - it would have been just as easy for him to take what he wanted and be on his way.

It was strange, how his blood was equal parts humble and proud, but you were drawn to it, intoxicated by him. No one had ever made you feel as protected as he did, as… valuable as he treated you, and you ached for him. You couldn’t bear not to help him as much as you could, but you already knew you would miss your long nights spent talking or the way his gloved hand would grab yours like it was his second nature.

When it was time for the meeting, you had put extra care into your appearance, as if it would matter, wanting to make a good impression. Your companion stopped, and looked you over, and your feet shifted on the bumpy ramp of your ship.

Paz rumbled, as he had the first time you’d met, saying, “What is this?”

It made you laugh, sometimes, that someone so powerful and in control could be so awkward at times.

“Is it bad?” you quipped, trying to sound as though you did not care what he thought. In truth, he was the only one you had ever wanted so badly to think you were attractive.

Paz made a small noise, one you thought you recognized as annoyed, and you turned in time to see his helmet shaking and his shoulders tense.

“Mesh'la,” his voice was lower than normal. Logically you should’ve expected it, but it was amazing, almost overwhelming how his hand enveloped your cheek.

“Thank you,” you whispered, leaning into his touch. It was warm, and you felt selfish for wondering how much moreso it would be without his gloves.

And then a moment later the touch broke and he was hurrying to the cantina with you at his heels.

Kori was there, and they embraced. She greeted you kindly, but you kept your distance as they talked.

You settled at the bar, trying not to mourn a relationship that was hardly more than friendship, as you felt the eyes of someone on the back of your neck. It was a familiar feeling, and you turned, assuming it was Paz – but finding a man making his way over to you instead.

He was handsome, too tight clothes stretched over the muscles of his chest and a sweet, crooked smile. It made you think, maybe a distraction wouldn’t be so bad – and it wasn’t, at first. The guy was nice, attractive and charming and respectful enough that you let yourself actually enjoy his company. You almost didn’t feel the Mandalorians watching you – and you certainly didn’t see your Mandalorian's hands clench on the table.

Paz had hardly said a word to you since he dragged you back to the ship. He knew it was making you anxious, knew you were already waiting for him to start packing, knew you deserved some type of explanation as to what was happened but he just couldn’t.

For the very first time in his life he was petrified of getting the words wrong, desperate to say everything as right as be possibly could.

He wasn’t trained in this – they would say it was the way and move on, or have heated conversations driven by what they knew was right. Mandalorians weren’t … tactful, tentative, tender people, but Maker, did he want to be, for you.

You, in your nice clothes, settled in a crate, watching him and waiting, looking just touch guilty.

It’s not your fault, he wanted to say. It was his, for not being honest sooner. For letting you think he wasn’t head over heels in love with you, for letting you believe he would, could leave you. But he was angry, at himself and at the karking boy for thinking he had any right you make you smile like that.

Angry that it took Kori one look to know what he had spent weeks denying, to unearth the promise he'd made himself about keeping you close.

Angry it took her hand on his fists, and her quite, “Home is where the heart is, adi'ka,” for him to realize.

And when Paz was angry, words slipped past his tongue back down his throat like bitter medicine, and he couldn’t make it stop. He was a man who had spent years of his life in absolute control over every muscle in his body but he always failed with one, the one that seemed to matter most.

In the end, he remembered to do what he wished you would do – he pulled you into him, pressing he forehead of his helmet against yours.

In a moment, he could explain himself, tell you he loved you, ask you to let him stay. In a moment he would thank you for finding him.

But for now, he watched as the confusion cleared from your eyes before they closed and your mouth pulled into a smile, and didn’t run from the pride that filled him from head to toe.

taglist:

@fangirl-316 @scribbledghost @writeforfandoms @beautyagegoodnesssize @princess76179 @mrsbentallmadge

#paz vizsla #paz vizsla x reader #star wars #the mandalorian #maybe i don't know people

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darter-blue · 4 years ago

Text

And now for some stucky fluff...

Read it here on ao3

Or part one, two, three, four on tumblr

Bucky’s sense has left him. It left him somewhere back on the dance floor. Maybe even before then.

It’s entirely possible that in fact he’s never had any.

He spent too long talking at Steve about particles… about soulmates… about whatever it is that's happening between them. And by some miracle, Steve is still listening, still looking at Bucky like he’s interesting, like his words mean something. And Bucky needs to harness that. Needs to grab at it before it slips through his fingers.

So he quits his yapping. He grabs Steve and he pulls at him again, marvels at the complete lack of resistance there, at the way Steve just follows him. When he dares to look back over his shoulder, Steve is still there, still staring at Bucky as if he is something wondrous. Somehow not tripping, or faltering, despite not watching at all where he’s going and or paying any kind of attention to the people or the noise or the chaos of the casino around them.

Steve’s eyes are only for Bucky.

Even as Bucky pulls them through the garishly painted doors. Even as Bucky leads him into madness.

Bucky turns away from Steve to face forward, to push clear of the doors and let them swing closed behind them.

It’s much quieter in the chapel.

Bucky sweeps his eyes from right to left and takes in the pastel pink walls, the blue ribbons along the pews, the couple chatting at the top of the aisle. One dressed as Elvis - white jumpsuit and cape, big hair, sunglasses, guitar flung over one shoulder, not slim, but filling out that jumpsuit nicely all the same - the other wearing a hot pink t-shirt that reads ‘we will wed you’ in white lettering across the chest and a fifties retro polka dot skirt.

They both look up as Steve and Bucky enter.

‘He-ey,’ the man dressed as Elvis says, smile and eyes widening as he looks past Bucky and up and up to Steve, then back down and up again. One eyebrow raising in slight disbelief, no doubt, at the existence of such a perfect being.

Bucky can’t blame him.

‘Welcome, welcome!’ the woman in hot pink says, coming forward, arms outstretched, ‘hello boys!’

‘Hello,’ Bucky says, smiling at her exuberance, and her very excellent blond bee-hive up-do, and slows to a stop about halfway down the aisle.

‘Ma’am,’ Steve says, affability dripping from the buttery smooth tone in his voice, coming to a stop on Bucky’s right.

‘Oh, you two look like a match made in heaven!’ the woman says, stopping a few feet from them, she holds up her hands and makes a frame with her fingers, placing Bucky and Steve in it and looking through at them with one narrowed eye. ‘Oh yes. Beautiful, beautiful.’

‘Uh…’ Bucky starts, and falters. At a loss for exactly how to proceed.

He looks up at Steve and Steve looks down at him with an encouraging smile, slides an arm around Bucky’s waist and squeezes him closer.

‘We umm… do we have to make an appointment?’

‘You two?’ the woman says, eyeing them both up and down, ‘no appointments necessary, come come come.’ She spins around and starts heading towards Elvis, checking back to make sure Bucky and Steve are following her, ‘Come with me, I’m going to take care of everything.’

‘Okay,’ Bucky says, looking up and Steve and shrugging his shoulders.

Steve laughs and squeezes Bucky tighter, walking them down the aisle together. ‘How do you make everybody fall in love with you like this, Buck?’

‘Me?’ Bucky says, laughing and shaking his head at Steve. As if Steve has no idea of the kind of magnetism he’s exuding. The uncanny resemblance he has to a greek god.

‘Yes, definitely you,’ Steve says, ‘People are never this easy with me.’

‘I am,’ Bucky says truthfully. Everything about Steve screams home to Bucky. Screams safety and happiness. Bucky couldn’t be anything but easy with him.

‘Yes you are,’ Steve says softly. Squeezing Bucky again. He’s going to have to stop doing that, it's so warm, his arm is so strong, his hand is so big, Bucky feels encased by him. It’s dangerously addictive. Bucky wants to lean into it and let himself go.

But, actually, why can't he? This is a chapel, they are about to leap into the craziest decision Bucky has ever made in his life... So Bucky does lean into it. Lets his side press into Steve, lets them fit together like a solved puzzle.

‘Okay boys, we have some forms, we have some catalogues,’ the woman says, gesturing them into a room off to the side of the chapel, ‘I need you to put your decision making hats on, okay? We have about thirty minutes before the next couple comes in and I want to slot you right in, yes?’

‘Okay,’ Bucky and Steve say together, nodding their heads.

‘Good, good. So take a look over these, sign them, pick your rings and I’ll charge them all to your room. You’re staying in the casino right?’

‘Yes,’ Steve says, moving forward before Bucky can answer, ‘Charge it to my room, please.’

Steve starts pulling out his wallet, shows his identification and takes the pen the lady offers him, and Bucky watches with a sort of fascination, as Steve becomes completely in control.

‘Steve Rogers,’ the woman says with a smile Bucky doesn’t understand. Knowing, familiar. ‘I’m Mavis, it’s so lovely to meet you.’

‘And you,’ Steve says. He opens his arm out to Bucky to gesture him forward, and slides it around Bucky’s shoulder when he gets close enough. ‘This is Bucky.’

‘James Buchanan Barnes,’ Bucky says, holding out a hand for Mavis to shake, ‘pleasure to meet you, Mavis.’

‘Oh well you are just the sweetest thing,’ Mavis says with a chuckle, her cheeks blushing, ‘absolutely adorable.’ She pushes a catalogue towards Bucky, ‘Find your rings, darlin’ while Steve here fills out the paperwork. I just need some signatures from both of you and I’ll set up everything with Larry over there,’ she points to Elvis who waves back at them from the altar, ‘while you pop out and find yourselves a witness.’

‘Can’t you be our witness, Mavis?’ Bucky asks. He doesn’t want to unpack the kind of recklessness that it takes to be getting married in a seedy casino wedding chapel and needing to nab random strangers to be their witnesses.

‘Oh of course I will, darlin’ boy, but you need two. And Larry is the officiator, he can’t be a witness I’m afraid.’

‘It’s no problem,’ Steve says, looking up from the paperwork and handing Bucky the pen, ‘You sign these and pick out the rings, Buck, I’ll go grab somebody.’

‘Ahh... sure,’ Bucky takes the pen and watches as Steve takes off on a mission, ‘I’ll just… pick out my wedding ring from this plastic catalogue…’

‘Okay,’ Mavis says, bustling about in the small room and not watching Bucky at all, ‘Here are your complimentary t-shirts,’ she pulls some material from a storage box under the counter, ‘here is your album,’ Mavis plonks a hot pink vinyl photo album right next to Bucky’s ring catalogue, ’and here’s your notepad.’

‘Notepad?’ Bucky looks at Mavis and then down at the small notepad, blue and pink and with a vegas sign as a watermark in the background.

‘You might want to jot some quick vows down, honey.’

‘Oh.’

It occurs to Bucky, as he looks down at his coloured notepad, at the ring catalogue on laminated sheets of pink paper, at the t-shirts Mavis has put down for them on the counter, that this is perhaps a terrible mistake.

And then he looks a little closer at one of the rings on the last page… plain white gold (plated, he’s guessing) flat bands with an inscription on the inside that reads, ‘For we are but two halves, together whole’ and wonders if in fact it's the opposite of a mistake.

What if this is fate?

‘Bucky, I found somebody,’ Steve comes tearing back into the chapel followed by a dazed looking man, wide eyed and smiling, looking up at Steve as if he just met the messiah. ‘This is Scott.’

‘Hi Scott,’ Bucky says, dragging the man’s attention away from Steve, ‘thank you so much for doing this.’

‘Are you kidding?’ Scott says, beaming back up at Steve, ‘for this guy? Anything.’

He looks starstruck - Bucky can totally understand where he’s coming from.

Scott is absolutely bouncing on the balls of his feet, ‘You are a lucky guy, Bucky.’

Bucky looks at Steve, who is looking worriedly between Scott and Bucky, reminding Bucky momentarily of a confused puppy, and has to wholeheartedly agree.

‘You still sure about this, Buck?’ Steve asks, puppy dog eyes kicking into full gear.

Bucky can’t help but smile. ‘I um… found these I sort of like,’ Bucky says in lieu of an answer, pointing to the picture of the rings on the laminated page, ‘what do you think?’

Steve looks down at them, at the inscription decsribed underneath the picture and looks back up at Bucky with the softest, sweetest smile. ‘They look perfect.’

‘Yeah? You think so?’

‘I do.’

And Bucky’s heart melts. He feels the warmth of it spread right through his chest.

‘Perfect!’ Mavis cries, swooping in to grab the catalogue and disappear into the chapel, yelling back ‘get yourselves to the altar boys!’

‘I guess we ah… head out there?’ Bucky gestures over his shoulder with his thumb, to the altar, ‘let me just um…’ he jots down a few lines and then rips the page off and hands the notepad to Steve, ‘for your vows.’

‘Ahh…’ Steve looks adorably terrified at the notepad Bucky has just handed him and looks over at Scott who is smiling at both of them now.

‘You guys look good together,’ Scott says, grabbing them both around their biceps and pushing them together, ‘this is really special. Thanks for letting me be a part of this, Cap.’

‘You’re welcome,’ Steve says, calm but bemused as Scott’s hands keep squeezing.

Bucky looks up at Steve and then back at Scott who almost seems to be tearing up.

‘You guys know each other?’

‘I wish,’ Scott says, shaking his head with a laugh, ‘what a dream this night has turned out to be.’

And Bucky can’t help but laugh. It’s just crazy enough to be perfect for this evening. ‘For you and me both,’ Bucky says. And Scott squeezes his arm a little tighter. ‘We even have this t-shirt for you.’

Scott takes the t-shirt Bucky offers him reverently. ‘Viva las witness,’ he says with awe. ‘This is amazing.’

‘And for you, sir,’ Bucky says, handing one to Steve.

‘Thank you, Buck’ Steve says, standing back from them both to pull off the button down he’s wearing.

Bucky can’t stop the gasp that escapes as Steve’s shirt slides down his arms to reveal the wide expanse of chiseled porcelain perfection underneath.

Steve smiles at Bucky’s no doubt slack jawed expression but Bucky can’t look away. It’s… a lot. IKt’s more muscle than Bucky has ever seen on a real live person. Toned and smooth and carved out of marble.

What is Bucky getting himself into?

Steve is pulling the pink ‘groom’ shirt over his chest and down over his washboard abs and Bucky has to hold his hand back from reaching out to touch him, to slip his fingers under the soft material of the t-shirt.

‘Your turn, Buck,’ Steve says, staring at Bucky with one eyebrow raised, handing him the blue shirt.

‘Uh-uh.’ Bucky shakes his head. 'Nope, not after that,' he waves his hand in the direction of Steve's chest, 'no thank you.'

'Buck?'

'I don't look anything like that.'

'Nobody looks anything like that,' Scott says, his eyebrows still at his hairline.

'Scott, could you give us five minutes?'

'Yeah, I'll just…' Scott backs out of the room and towards the altar, 'let me choose you some music. Be right back.'

'Bucky,' Steve steps closer as Scott disappears, 'you don't have to do anything you're not comfortable with.'

Bucky lets him closer, but doesn't move.

'But this,' Steve puts his hands to his giant pecs, nearly breaking through the t-shirt, 'this is not what makes me, me.'

'I know,' Bucky tucks his hair behind his ear, nodding his head 'I know that.' He does know that. But it’s hard to not be intimidated by his perfection.

'And as beautiful as you are,' Steve says, reaching out to take Bucky's hand and hold it, put it up against Bucky’s chest, 'this isn't what makes you, you.' Steve presses the finger of his free hand against Bucky’s forehead. 'This is, Buck. This is you, yes?'

'Yes.' And it’s true. He forgets that sometimes but it’s true.

'And it's amazing, you're amazing.'

'I am?' Is he? Bucky doesn’t feel amazing. He feels like he’s just scraping by most of the time.

'You are.'

Steve is looking down at him with so much affection, Bucky knows it’s not a line. It’s what Steve really thinks.

'You are too,' Bucky lifts his own free hand to touch Steve's forehead, 'you're so lovely.'

Steve leans in as Bucky traces his hand down to his cheek and rests his forehead against Bucky's. 'You don't have to wear the t-shirt, Bucky,' Steve says softly, running his hand through Bucky’s hair, 'You don't ever have to do anything you don't want to do.'

Steve's hands on him are like a balm. They radiate care and calm, and they speak Steve's truth.

Bucky’s insecurity washes away. He wants to be part of this. He wants to be all in. 'I do want to wear the t-shirt,' Bucky whispers, 'It's cute.'

Steve laughs and almost snorts. 'It's perfect for you.' Steve nods. 'Want me to give you some privacy?'

'No,’ Bucky doesn’t want Steve to go anywhere. ‘No I want you to help me.’

Bucky takes Steve’s hands in his own and places them gently at the hem of his t-shirt - faded and worn and washed too many times, all the more comfortable because of it.

Steve slides his hands up under the hem and over the bare skin above Bucky’s waistband, dragging the tips of his fingers across Bucky’s stomach. Bucky breaths in a sharp gasp of air as Steve’s thumb runs over his hip bone.

‘Gorgeous,’ Steve sighs the word, his breath on Bucky’s lips, he’s so close.

Bucky lifts his arms to let Steve run his fingers up further, taking the material of the shirt with him and lifting it slowly over Bucky’s head. He runs his hands back down Bucky’s chest, fingertips burning into Bucky’s skin, charged and electric.

They slow at Bucky’s stomach, sliding around the smooth, slightly rounded softness of Bucky’s waist to settle on his hips, rubbing circles over the bone with his thumbs.

‘Beautiful,’ Steve whispers, ‘you’re perfect, Bucky.’

‘Thank you,’ Bucky whispers back. Not because Steve has said it, but because he’s made Bucky believe it.

Steve’s nuzzles closer, reaching up to kiss his lips against Bucky’s forehead, Bucky settles his hands on Steve’s chest, up to Steve’s shoulders and around his neck-

‘Showtime boys!’ Mavis says, bursting into the room and then throwing a hand over her eyes as Steve and Bucky jump apart, ‘Oops! Sorry, but you need to get your sweet little butts out there, we’re running out of time.’

‘Yep, sorry, sorry,’ Bucky grabs for the blue t-shirt, ‘Elvis said we do’ plastered across the front in bright pink lettering, ‘coming right out.’

‘Better late than never,’ Mavis says with a wink to Steve and Bucky laughs at the blush that creeps into his cheeks.

‘Shit,’ Steve writes quickly in the notepad as they both hustle out to the altar, Scott off to the side pairing his phone with the sound system as ‘Fools rush in’ starts up over the speakers and Larry-Elvis smiles down at them as they move into position on either side of where he stands a step above them.

Steve tucks the notepad into his pocket and shuffles his feet. Bucky stands straight and reaches for his hands, pulls them into the space between them, holds them there, safe between Bucky’s own.

‘Welcome folks,’ Larry-Elvis drawls, ‘We’re gonna keep this short and sweet, I as a certified official in the state of Nevada, do preside over these two young men, to bring them together in holy matrimony-’

Steve catches Bucky’s eye and bites his lip. Bucky can only look back and try and keep from vibrating out of his skin.

‘-James Buchanan Barnes, did you have some words for Steve,’

‘Ah, yep…’ Bucky says, grabbing the torn out page from the pocket of his jeans, ‘Ah, Steven-’

‘-Grant,’ Steve says quietly.

‘Steven Grant Rogers, somehow it feels like I’ve known you forever. Somehow I feel like tonight I have met the kindest, most wonderful man in the world.’

‘It’s so true,’ Scott says quietly from behind them, and it makes Bucky smile.

‘Whatever brought us together, whatever force has drawn us to each other… It feels like fate, Steve. I think maybe you’re my person.’

Steve is nodding, smiling, he squeezes Bucky’s fingers.

‘And Steve?’ Larry-Elvis asks, ‘did you have words too, son?’

‘Yeah I…’ Steve doesn’t reach for his notepad, he looks at Bucky and squares his shoulders, lifts his chin, ‘James Buchanan Barnes, my heart knows you. However our particles have danced together through time, I found you here and now, and I’m going to hold on for as long as I can-’

‘Oh, god,’ Scott sobs behind them.

‘-I think you’re right about fate, Buck, and I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life, just being a part of yours.’

‘Beautiful!’ Mavis cries, running over with the rings, ‘Rings boys, time to wrap it up.’

Bucky has to smile at the chaos, at Steve’s face as he bites his cheek and tries not to laugh. He checks back at Scott to see him taking video of the ceremony and hopes that he can watch this in the morning, sober, and remember how light his heart is right now.

‘That was beautiful, Steve-Steve Rogers,’ Bucky says leaning in to whisper.

‘You’re beautiful,’ Steve says back and they smile at each other like idiots as Mavis hands them their rings and the song fades out on Elvis singing about falling in love. It couldn’t be more perfect.

‘You may kiss the groom, fellas,’ Larry says with a sweeping hand, ‘I now pronounce you husband and husband.’

And all of the noise fades away around them as Steve steps in, brings their joined hands up to their chests and reaches down to rest his lips against Bucky’s.

‘May I?’ he whispers against Bucky’s mouth.

‘Fuck yes,’ Bucky whispers back, and Steve laughs as he closes that last tiny distance, presses his warm lips softly to Bucky’s and opens them just enough to fit their mouths together.

The tenderness of it has Bucky in freefall.

He sighs into the taste of Steve’s lips, the luscious sweep of them against Bucky’s, and Steve has to let go of Bucky’s hands to reach around and grab him, take Bucky’s weight where he has dropped into Steve’s hold, pressing deeper into the kiss as he does, opening wider to it, gently nudging his tongue against Bucky’s and Bucky pushes back, licks softly into Steve’s mouth, sucks at the plumpness of his bottom lip, reaches his hands up around Steve’s neck and holds on.

The bang of the confetti canon has Steve snapping back up to standing, pulling Bucky with him and wrapping his arms around him, as if to shield him. Looking up and then back at Bucky as the coloured paper rains down on them.

Bucky can't help huffing a happy laugh at his husband. His husband.

‘Congratulations!’ Mavis and Larry-Elvis and Scott all cry from around them, but Bucky’s world is all and only Steve right now. The crystal clear blue of his eyes, the rose of his cheeks, the sharp nose and pink lips, and the look of absolute adoration on his face.

‘Wanna get out of here?’ Bucky asks.

Steve smiles even wider, ducks his head to kiss Bucky again, slow and soft and sweet and whispers into Bucky’s mouth, ‘I do.’

It’s perfect.

#stucky #stucky fluff #fluff #accidental husbands #stucky fic #steve/peggy #steve x darcy #bottom bucky #cap steve #shrunkyclunks #my writing

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heliads · 4 years ago

Text

One Moves On Chapter Four: Crow Rock

Stiles Stilinski doesn’t know what to think when he’s taken by the Ghost Riders. He’s grateful to be joined by Y/N L/N, although when he finally escapes, no one seems to remember her at all.

previous / series masterlist / next

Now that he’s finished his research, Stiles isn’t sure what to do next. Does he drive over in a fit of glory and bad decision making, hope to find Y/N and pray she hasn’t left before he gets there? Does he risk traveling without a pack to one of the areas with the most supernatural activity other than Beacon Hills?

In the end, Stiles decides to just go. Deliberating and hesitating won’t do him any good, not when Y/N is still out there, weaponless and with no idea where she is. Stiles spends a haphazard half hour running about his house, trying to put together supplies he might need for the trip, before finally stumbling over to his Jeep.

When he finally makes it out, keys clutched in his hand, Scott is waiting for him.

His best friend is leaning up against the driver’s side door, arms folded across his chest. Stiles’ steps falter. “You knew I was going?” Scott lifts a shoulder. “Your dad called me, said he was worried. We knew you’ve been concerned about Y/N, but we didn’t know that you would go this far. Where are you going, Stiles?”

Stiles holds up a hastily printed map. “Actually, I’m going to a town called Crow Rock. Good supernatural activity, and I followed the law of triangles-” Stiles’ voice dies off as he takes in the look on Scott’s face. “The law of triangles, which is a very reputable law from a very reputable manuscript which we all know about. Right. Well, I know how it sounds but trust me, it’s going to be alright.”

Scott sighs. “I want to believe you. Honestly, I do. But Y/N died months ago. You have to know that. I didn’t even know you cared this much about her. I’d call it grief, but you watched her die some time ago. She’s already buried.” Stiles frowns at him. “Is she? Where?” Scott fumbles for a moment. “Uh, in some cemetery.” Stiles presses his advantage. “Which cemetery? If we saw her buried, where is she?”

Scott’s brow furrows, and he stares at Stiles in bewilderment. “I can’t remember. I know where Allison and Aiden and all the others are buried, but I don’t know where she is.” Stiles throws his hands in the air. “This is exactly what I’m talking about. You don’t know because she isn’t dead. We never buried her so of course we can’t remember the cemetery. Scott, you have to believe me. She’s out there somewhere and I have to bring her back.”

Scott’s face softens. “You’re sure this will work? You know where to find her?” Stiles nods fervently. “I’ve done my research. Sometimes, people are pulled away from rifts by something called etheria. I was able to make it back safely from the Wild Hunt, but she wouldn’t. She’s not the first either- these victims, they call them etherials or something, have been disappearing for centuries. I’ve managed to track down another hotspot where she might be located and I think it’s my best shot at finding her.”

Scott nods once, then claps him on the shoulder. “I think you can do it.” Stiles looks up at him. “Really?” Scott smiles trustingly. “From what I’ve heard, you’ve put in a considerable amount of time for research. I think if anyone could track down an etherial who everyone else thinks is dead, it would be you.” Stiles grins. For some reason, hearing his best friend’s belief in him is enough to give Stiles a boost in confidence.

Scott steps away from the door of the Jeep, allowing Stiles access at last. “I just wanted to check with you before you go. To make sure you knew what you were doing.” He glances at the map, taking in the location of the hotspot. “There’s going to be a lot of supernatural trouble there. You sure you don’t want a backup group?” Stiles shakes his head, smiling. “I’m good, thank you. I think this is something I have to do by myself.”

Stiles climbs into the Jeep, giving himself a moment to think. This is it, the last moment before he sets off on his journey. He’s spent so much time preparing that it’s strange to think that this is his stepping off point, the last opportunity he has to back down and say that this is too dangerous, or that the chances are too great that he will fail.

Stiles turns on the ignition in a roar. Scott waves goodbye as the Jeep disappears down the road.

Stiles has only been driving for an hour or so before he notices a shift in the air. It’s not much, barely there, but yet something is not right. It’s like the atmosphere of the car has become quieter, even more silent than before. No one has entered or left the vehicle to warrant this silence, but it’s still enough to make Stiles feel slightly uneasy. He’d felt it a little when he was crossing over the boundary to Beacon Hills, a slight change in the energy as if by leaving he was passing through a barrier of some sort.

Stiles supposes it makes sense- you leave a hotspot, you might notice some change. Stiles doubts he would have noticed it had he not just been taken by the Wild Hunt or even gone without his temporary possession by the Nogitsune. He has a feeling that sensing this change in supernatural activity is an ability usually attributed to the supernatural, and the fact that he, a supposedly ordinary human, can sense it sets Stiles’ teeth on edge.

Stiles becomes aware of another change about fifteen minutes later. He sits up straighter in his seat, trying and failing to figure out what exactly is filling him with unease, and then he sees the sign. It’s faded, paint crumbling off of a metal backing. Even with the weathering of the sign, Stiles can still read the derelict letters: Welcome to Crow Rock. Stiles has made it at last.

The Jeep rumbles on, past the sign and onto the twisting roads. Scott, Lydia, and Malia had told him about visiting Canaan while he was still in the thrall of the Wild Hunt, and how the entire town had given off the uncanny, almost sinister energy of a ghost town. Stiles has no idea what it must have been like to walk those streets, but he has a suspicion that it would be pretty similar to how he feels right now, driving down the blocks and avenues in his truck.

Stiles has looked at images of Crow Rock from larger topographical maps, and realized that the town itself isn’t actually that big. He’d been happy then, thinking that maybe this was one instance of luck for himself and that it might not take as long to search the town for Y/N, but that hope is starting to wither away from him now. The town may be small, yes, with fewer hiding spots, but it also means fewer people to watch him. With fewer bystanders, the chance of supernaturals backing down from a public attack grows slimmer and slimmer with each mile Stiles travels within the town.

Stiles intended to drive to the center of town, where the hotspot of supernatural activity would most likely be the highest. However, as he goes he finds that certain roads are blocked off or congested with traffic that miraculously vanishes a few blocks down. He’s forced to take alternate routes, driving him on a convoluted path away from the entrance. It gives Stiles a sneaking suspicion that he’s being intentionally misrouted, that something is drawing him close.

Stiles has just taken a turn into a new street when he’s forced to come to an abrupt stop. A construction barricade has been laid across the road, orange and white paint signaling that he can travel no further. Stiles checks his rearview mirrors, ready to make a U-turn and get onto another road, when he freezes in place. A group of people is slowly spilling out into the road behind him, and they come to a stop at the main road, blocking off any chance of escape. They all consider Stiles with identical glares. This is not good.

Seeing as he can’t drive anywhere without mowing down this group of people, Stiles turns off the ignition and starts to climb down out of the Jeep. All of his instincts are screaming at him to stay in the car, to not give up the one piece of shelter he still has left, but it’s not like he has much of a choice. At least he’d be able to run on foot- if he remains in the Jeep, he’d just be a sitting duck.

Stiles walks away from the car, coming to a stop a few yards away from the group. One man steps forward, glaring at Stiles with an almost animal rage. “You should not have come here, human. You reek of enemy packs.” Most people would be smart and hold their tongues, choosing to live instead of delivering a supposedly witty retort. Stiles prefers to save his academic success for the tests in school.

“I think it’s kind of mean to go up to people and tell them they smell. I mean, I showered this morning, I can’t be that bad.” The man raises an eyebrow. “You are a human with a death wish, I see. It is not wise to pick a fight that you cannot win.” Stiles shrugs. “I’m just a tourist, man. I can see why your driving tours got such low reviews on Yelp.”

The man scoffs, the sound skidding deep in his throat like the roar of an engine. “I am quickly tiring of you. I will give you one minute to leave this town. If you are not gone by then, you will be dead.” Stiles shakes his head slowly. “I can’t do that. I’m here for someone.” The man roars at him, the sound echoing off of the buildings around them to culminate in a low din of noise. “Then you will die here instead.”

The man charges towards Stiles, claws already starting to extend from his fingers. Stiles takes one look at him and decides to do what he does best: run. He spins on his heels, dashing towards his Jeep with every ounce of energy still left in him. He’s almost there, one hand flung out towards the door, when a werewolf skids to a stop in front of him. It lets out a piercing howl, the sound of an animal about to attack.

Suddenly, a knife slams into its throat, and the wolf slumps sideways. Stiles’ head jerks up as he looks for his savior. A blur of flashing knives and running limbs appears out of nowhere, and a figure grabs the knife from the werewolf’s throat to throw it at another approaching wolf. Then the figure turns to Stiles, and he feels like he could dance with joy.

“Y/N?” She flashes him a grin. “Great to see you. Get in the Jeep.” Stiles doesn’t think twice, diving for the door and throwing himself in. Y/N climbs into the passenger seat, slamming the door closed just before a werewolf can slash her to ribbons. Stiles turns on the ignition, thanking everything holy and then some that the engine doesn’t fail him. He begins the turn to direct his car back towards the road, and then hesitates.

Y/N stares at him. “What are you waiting for? Do you enjoy being killed by enemy packs?” Stiles gestures towards the road. “The werewolves are blocking all the lanes!” Y/N’s eyes widen in something like incredulity. “Then run them over!” Stiles returns her startled gaze. “They’ll wreck my car!” Y/N grabs his hand, forcing it back onto the wheel. “If you stay here, they’ll wreck your car by dragging your dead body out of it and tearing it to shreds. Drive!”

A wolf howls nearby, raising his hand to slash at the metal body of the car. This is enough to motivate him, and Stiles slams a foot on the gas. The Jeep lurches forward, and the werewolves are forced to dive out of the way lest they get flattened by the wheels. The Jeep races around corners and through straightaways before they finally lose the enemy pack and the roads become deserted once more.

Stiles stares at the windshield unseeingly. His hands still shake from the close call. “You know, I don’t think I used my turn signal once during all of this.” There’s a quiet sound next to him, and for a second Stiles thinks that Y/N has started sobbing. Then he looks over and realizes that she’s doubled over in silent laughter. She manages to choke out two words. “Turn signal?”

Stiles stares at her for a second, then starts laughing too. Maybe it’s the thrill of yet another near death experience, or the rush of gratitude that he’s managed to find her at last, but all of a sudden every single thing in the world seems funny. He has to divert his attention back to the road in a jolt lest he run over a suicidal squirrel, which just makes them laugh even harder.

At last, they approach the sign announcing that they will shortly be leaving Crow Rock. Y/N’s laughter dies on her lips as she stares at the sign, then speaks abruptly. “Stop the car.” Stiles stares at her as she jumps out before the wheels have even stopped moving. He puts the car in park just a little bit beyond the sign, then leaps out after her. “What are you doing? Do you like the idea of being slashed to bits by the enemy packs?”

Y/N shakes her head, staring at him with quiet grief. “I can’t leave the town.” Stiles walks back over to her. “What are you talking about?” Y/N looks at him, and Stiles realizes that she doesn’t look afraid or even disappointed. Her face only holds a calm acceptance of a depressing fact. “I can’t leave. I’ve tried before, but the town won’t let me. Look.” She moves to step forward, past the ‘Leaving Crow Rock’ sign, but her feet refuse to budge. It’s as if she’s trying to walk into an invisible wall.

“I’ve tried to leave, ever since I showed up here, but I can’t. It’s like the same magic that brought me here intends on trapping me here forever.” Stiles’ eyes widen. “It’s the etheria. All those manuscripts talked about how people would be yanked away to other hotspots and never return. I thought they just meant that it was the olden days or whatever and that long of a distance was too far to travel without cars or something, but they literally meant that they couldn’t leave.”

Stiles shakes his head, unable to accept this. “I’m not giving up, not now. I’m not losing you again.” Y/N laughs quietly at that. The sound is bittersweet and tears at his heart. “I don’t think you have a choice, Stiles. There’s no way around this.” Stiles’ pulse is thundering in his veins. “No, I’m going to make a choice. Even if I have to do it all myself. No one is supposed to remember the etherials, but I remember you. We’re the exception, Y/N. I am not leaving you again.”

Out of some impulse, Stiles steps forward, wrapping his arms around Y/N and pulling her close. She stiffens for a second, then returns his embrace. After so many days of hearing everyone tell him that she was dead, that she didn’t exist, having her so close is like a dream or an impossibility. They stumble slightly as a strong wind hits them, shifting slightly but not letting go. Y/N gasps quietly, the sound torn away from her chest. Stiles looks at her. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Y/N shakes her head slightly. “I don’t know. I feel like-” Her eyes widen as she stares at the sign to Crow Rock, the sign that is now behind them. In that brief moment, when they’d moved to avoid the wind, they’d moved over the town barrier. It had just been mere inches, but it was enough. Y/N stares at him in awe. “How did that happen? It’s never happened before.”

Stiles can just smile at her, feeling relief crest over him like a wave. “I told you, didn’t I? We’re the exception. Now, I don’t know about you, but I think I’d like to go home.” She beams at him. “I think I’d like that a lot.” Stiles reaches out, wrapping his hand around hers to guide her back to the car. They’re together at last, and they can finally make their way back to where they belong.

one moves on tag list: @ilikealotofpeople-younotsomuch, @blahhhhhhhaaa

#stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski imagines #stiles stilinski x reader #stiles stilinski series #teen wolf #teen wolf imagines #teen wolf x reader #teen wolf series #teen wolf stiles #stiles imagines #stiles x reader #stiles series #stiles stilinski teen wolf

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secretwhumplair · 4 years ago

Text

Bread and Water, p. 1

1,116 words | Original work: No Warrior (sequel to Deprived)

Content | Starvation, begging, language barrier, fear, implied: past torture

Notes | It’s a long, complicated morning for Yves and somehow I feel compelled to cover it in excruciating detail, so! Parts!

This may be the weirdest way to represent a language the viewpoint character doesn’t understand, but it’s traditionally used for eldritch horrors and Yves is currently scared out of his mind, so I figured it was appropriate :P

Taglist | @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi

Yves came to, his body being gently rocked back and forth, his injuries screaming with every movement, repeated with uncanny regularity.

He smelled wood and moist wool, not the stone and metal and the stink of his own filth he had come to expect. Something was draped over him, keeping him warmer than he was used to.

He blinked his eyes open to see, before anything, a giant looming over him.

Memory came crashing down on him. He gasped with fear and regretted it immediately, forcefully, when the man sitting next to where he was lying on what he presumed to be the floor turned his head to look down on him. Why couldn’t he keep silent, avoid attention for a few precious moments longer?

“x̴̰̘̚̕x̸̢̦͆,̴̡̹͌ ̵̫͗x̴̬̣̏ẍ̶͈͍́̔ ̵͓̻́̓x̶̝̤͒x̵̬̜̍̓x̸͚̓x̴͘͜ ̸̉͜x̷͓͑̈́x̸̹̐̔ẍ̸̻͂x̸̘̤̽͐x̶̘̀x̷͔͊x̷͖͈̔̃x̴̗̿x̷̤̎ẍ̶̬́͝,̶̞̣͒ ̴̻͒̽x̴͚͉̐̕ẍ̶̖͐x̸̤̑x̸̬͇̅̉x̸̰͕̆x̶̄͘͜.”

The man looked down at him, clearly expecting some sort of response. Yves had no idea what he had said. He had no idea what to do. He only knew this man could break him like a reed, and probably would if he didn’t do the right thing. Quite possibly even if he did. Tears rolled down his face before he could even think of holding them back. “Please...”

His eyes flitted away from the mountain of a man beside him for the briefest of moments, just to find out where they were, what he had to expect-

His stomach sank horribly when he realized.

They were on a ship. He was curled up at the bow, the man beside him apparently on lookout duty or some such.

They were on a ship, and it was full of big, strong people like the one sitting next to him. Currently, they were all going about their business, but now he no longer questioned why he hadn’t been killed along with the knights.

There was nothing he could do, not even obey. He sobbed into himself, squeezing his eyes shut as if it would do any good, but he was still surrounded by the creaking wood and what he now recognized as the ocean’s waves, with nowhere to go, nowhere to escape to.

“x̵̧͙̏x̸͙́x̷̞́̇,̵̘̹͘͝ ̴̱̥̀̚x̷͚̿̉x̸̟̾x̸̣̆͘,̵͓̯̿ ̸̧̞̒̿x̵̼̎̄x̴̟͚́̄x̸̰̖́ ̵͉̍͘x̷̻͂̐x̸̬͐x̸̳͘ẍ̵̘͚́̑,̷̨̠̋ ̷̗̒ẍ̵̺̠́́x̸̜͐x̷̬̀͋x̶̝̼͗̉x̵̧̭̄x̴̳̺̽͝ ̵͉̦̅x̸̥̝̋x̵̗̌x̶̲͈͛.̵̡̀“

A hand landed on his shoulder, and he flinched under the touch, whimpering with fear. The man wasn’t hurting him, not yet, but he could only take the touch as a warning.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Please, I, I’m trying, I don’t understand-” His voice died in his throat. They would make him understand, he knew that, in any way they saw fit.

The man retreated from him, turning away as if to strike him with force. Yves shrank in on himself, his battered ribcage screaming with pain, but things would only get worse-

But the man only reached for something on his other side, then held it out to Yves: a piece of fresh bread.

Yves gasped, his eyes locking onto it like it was as big a nugget of gold; the pangs of his empty stomach suddenly cut sharply through his fear. When had he last eaten? When had he last been allowed to eat more than a few bites at a time? He couldn’t remember.

It was cruel, waving the good, fresh food, the kind he hadn’t tasted in forver, before his nose like that. Some of the knights liked to do that, bring their food to his cell just to watch him pine over it in vain.

Some of the knights had liked to do that.

He shuddered at the thought, and whimpered when the scent of bread crawled into his nostrils.

The man gestured at him with it, speaking again in that language Yves couldn’t hope to decipher. He couldn’t make much sense of the tone, either. It might have been gentle, if the circumstances weren’t so unambiguous.

Yves could only look up at him helplessly. “Please... I’m sorry... I don’t understand. Please...”

The man sighed his loss of patience, and Yves ducked his head until his nose almost touched the wooden planks, waiting for the impact.

But of course, it wasn’t that simple. Instead, he felt his wrist grabbed, and a moment later, something was thrust into his hand.

Then he was released.

He stayed frozen in place for a few moments. What had happened? What was happening? He glanced at his hand, not trusting what he had felt, but indeed he was now holding the bread.

He glimpsed up at the man.

He was smiling, and nodded at him.

He wanted Yves to eat, good, fresh bread, and Yves couldn’t think of a single reason for that. But he didn’t dare defy the man’s expectations. He would have to pay for this, one way or another, he was sure of it, but for now it was all he could do.

He carefully nibbled at the crust, barely noticing the warm flavour filling his mouth while stealing anxious glances at the man... who was now looking out at the sea.

With a sudden rush of panic, Yves realized he’d been set up. It was a test, it had to be. How could he ever think him being handed food like this meant he was supposed to eat it?

It was too late to undo the damage, but he could still keep it to a minimum. It was torture, crouching there with his stomach a glass-shard void, and holding the good bread in his own hands, but he knew that was exactly the point.

The alternative would, without question, be worse.

It was an eternity of raw fear before the man looked down at Yves again.

“I’m sorry,” Yves whispered weakly, unsure whether he was even audible. It didn’t matter. The man probably didn’t understand his language. It probably wouldn’t have mattered even if he did.

“x̷͘҉͏̸̀̀͠x̵̨̡͝͠͡͠͠x̴̸̷̴̀̕͡͠x̶͜͢͏͘͏҉҉x̸̧́̀҉̨͢͜x̧͏̵̧̀̀͜͡ x̴́͢͏̵̡̛͡x̷̴̨̢̨̢̛͘x̶̵̧̨̧͜͢͝x̶̵̵̧̀͟͜͟x̴̶̧҉̢҉҉̷, x̸̡̡͟͟͢͠͡x̵̸̀̕̕͢͟͝x̵̸̵̡̕͢͠͠x̡̀̕͏́͘͠͝x̵̨̡̛͘͞͞͝?“

Yves closed his eyes, tears rolling down his cheeks. If only he could understand. Then he could at least try.

He looked up when he heard liquid sloshing in a smaller echo of the waves steadily washing against the ship.

The man held out a canteen, shaking it again when he looked.

Yves looked at him, utterly lost. He was thirsty, as well, but-

The man sighed again, and Yves shrank back. But still, no assault came. The man just unstoppered the bottle, reached out for Yves’ face with his free hand - Yves whimpered, but the touch was gentle, barely even hurting the bruise colouring his cheek - then placed the canteen against his lips, pouring water down his throat.

Yves drank obediently, trying to suppress a shiver at how cold the water was. It was good, otherwise. It was so good.

Far too good for this to last.

#whump #whump writing #starvation #begging #my writing #no warrior #yves #runar

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kim-miri · 4 years ago

Text

HALF(have a little fun) pt. i

→ Sayomi Zoldyck is the eldest child and twin sister to Illumi, of the renowned Zoldyck family of assassins. At the age of ten she’s taken away to Meteor City by her mother, Kikyo Zoldyck, unbeknownst to the rest of the family, as well as newborn Killua, and left to fend for herself. This is the story of the long-lost Zoldyck and those she becomes acquainted with, all while she just wants to have a little fun.

» part one / ?

» pairing: eventually - chrollo x oc x feat. hisoka

» warnings: swearing, blood/violence

» a/n: helloo~ this is my first write ever, and it’ll probably be a pretty long series. I’m also balancing school and a part-time job so forgive me for slow updates! If you’re reading this, thank you so much for showing interest and please leave comments below with your inputs!

» word count: 2,726

☾ i.

Name: Sayomi Zoldyck 小夜美 | "小" is small | "夜" is night | "美" is beauty |

Hair color: White

Eye Color: Purple

Nen: Manipulator (same exact abilities as Illumi)

Abilities: Same as Illumi Zoldyck - Body Alteration, Hypnotic Spell, Corpse Control, Needle People, Katana

☾ part i: a backstory(1/2)

Deep within the Zoldyck estate, Kikyo and Silva Zoldyck celebrated the birth of their first children with rare smiles decorating their faces. They were twins, a boy and a girl, but they could not have been more opposite of each other.

The boy whom they chose to name Illumi, had mysterious, onyx black eyes and had not cried nor struggled upon being brought into the world. This led the Zoldycks to worry whether the baby was healthy or not, but were reassured by the midwives and doctor that he was indeed completely healthy, despite the baby’s odd lack of expression.

The girl, who was about 20 minutes older than the boy was a complete contrasting image of the former child. They named her Sayomi. Sayomi had striking violet eyes and brilliant white hair, mirroring both those of her father. Unlike her twin, she had done the whole newborn baby shenanigan with a piercing cry and thrashed about in Kikyo’s arms upon being held.

Thus, began the new generation of the Zoldyck family.

☾ i.

The twins began training at the age of 4, and it was harsh, brutal training fit for the next line of Zoldyck assassins.

Though deep down Silva and Kikyo loved their children, on the surface, they viewed their children as the ones who would eventually replace them and carry on the Zoldyck legacy. And in order to do so, the training they put their children through was all too necessary for the sake of their futures.

Yet, however painful or exhausting the training would be, Illumi and Sayomi found ways to make it bearable with each other’s company.

It could be their little races to the training yard each morning, stepping on each other’s feet under the dinner table, or even pranking some of the butlers.

In a way, they were able to balance each other out, much like two halves of a whole. With Illumi’s lack of expression and Sayomi’s affectionate nature, it was a mystery to those around them of how they were able to grow to be inseparable.

As the twins’ training progressed and the years went by, it was time to awaken their Nen abilities.

Silva and Zeno had requested that the now 7 year-olds meet in the courtyard today instead of their regular training, where they would now be categorized into the different types of Nen.

Illumi and Sayomi sat side by side on a bench in the courtyard in wait of Silva and Zeno, playing with their needles to pass the time.

The black-haired twin flicked his wrist faster than the eye could see, sending the needle between his fingers to go flying and hit a bird mid-flight right in the butt.

Watching the poor bird plummet to the ground in front of them, the twin girl’s violet eyes brightened and crinkled at the edges as she laughed out loud at her brother’s ‘choice’ of aim, falling to the ground while clutching her sides.

A slight shade of pink dusted Illumi’s cheeks as his sister teased his needle-throw, before huffing and turning the other way. He swore it had been on purpose, but was immediately shut down by his sister’s obnoxiously loud giggling.

Silva and Zeno approached from a distance and couldn’t help but smile at the view in front of them.

Sayomi was rolling around in the grass with laughter, her melodious voice echoing throughout the courtyard, while Illumi sat cross-armed with a blush threatening to spread across his otherwise pale face.

It was a scene that seemed to reoccur often between the twins, their starkly different personalities showing through clear as day.

Zeno stifled a laugh at the bird which now lied dead approximately 3-feet from where they stood, one of Illumi’s needles sticking out from its rear. Regaining his composure, Zeno called out for the twins.

“Sayomi! Illumi!”

Sayomi looked up from where she laid on the grass, immediately moving to sit next to her brother once again.

In Zeno and Silva’s hands, each was a glass of water filled exactly to the brim. It was amazing how steadily the two senior assassins could move, the water remaining still in either cup.

The time had finally come where the twins would awaken and discover their Nen.

Setting the glasses down on a table in the middle of the courtyard, Silva gestured for the twins to take a seat across from them before beginning his explanation.

The twins sat down with caution, curious of the sudden change in training plans, and Silva delved into the history and power of Nen along with its importance.

Having officially bored the twins into a state of drowsiness, Silva decided to cut to the chase. “Today both of you will figure out where you belong in the spectrum of Nen users, and you will both leave here with more power than you’ve ever wielded before.”

This caught the attention of both kids, simultaneously perking up to the word “power”.

“This is called the Water Divination Test.” Silva gestured to the glasses of water placed in front of the twins.

A leaf was placed in both of the glasses, floating still upon the surfaces of water.

Zeno continued the explanation, describing what would occur. “It’s a Shingen Ryu screening tool used for classifying aura. You will place your hands on either side of the glass with the utmost focus and your abilities will be revealed by what happens.”

After a short demonstration, the twins were up to the test, eager to know which category of Nen they would belong to.

Sitting up straight in their seats, the twins raised their hands to their respective glasses and focused all their energy into the glassed of water in front of them.

Sayomi was the first to get a reaction, as the leaf floating in the water twitched and spun in circles.

She exclaimed at the sudden movement, excitedly looking up at Silva and Zeno who beamed with pride. Both adults had hidden their shock at the girl’s raw power, causing the leaf not only to twitch but spin rapidly.

It was a short-lived moment, as everyone’s attention was brought to Illumi’s leaf doing exactly the same, spinning in the other direction within the water.

Illumi cocked his head curiously at the movement, not showing as much enthusiasm as his twin. Zeno and Silva nodded in approval and the twins shared a smile as they listened in to the capabilities of their Nen category.

The twins were manipulators, Zeno explained. “Manipulators are argumentative and logical. They advance at their own pace and tend to want to keep their families and loved ones safe. On the other hand, when it comes to pursuing their own goals, they do not listen to what others might have to say about it.”

☾ i.

Life or death situations almost every day that consisted of torture-training, sparring, and even shadowing butlers at work or senior assassins on missions for a good 3 years brought the twins to their current state.

At the age of 10, Sayomi and Illumi were full-fledged and elite Zoldyck assassins. And to top it off, came the birth of Killua, the twins’ new younger brother, who would soon become Sayomi’s biggest weakness.

From the moment Killua was born, the elders sensed an overwhelming aura radiating off of the newborn, that screamed killer and powerful.

However, all Sayomi could see were the uncanny similarities between the baby and herself.

Brilliant white hair, slanted, bright blue eyes, that looked like her own violet ones, and above all, a wide, gleeful smile. Killua’s smile, although a baby, felt more genuine than any smile she had received in her entire life, and the warm sensation that spread throughout her body made her take another look at her younger brother’s sleeping face.

She was absolutely fascinated by how similar the baby could look to herself, and decided to herself then and there that she would forever protect Killua at all costs.

☾ i.

On the other hand, the twins were already on the job, taking clients and bringing enough success to spread rumours about the new generation of Zoldycks.

Sayomi was on her fifth client when she finally ran into a situation that caused her to hinder from the job.

Her target was an 18 year old girl, the daughter of the CEO that had backstabbed her client. But her age wasn’t what bothered Sayomi. It was what she’d saw while hiding in the shadows of the girl’s suite room.

From the cabinet of which she hid behind, Sayomi couldn’t help but feel a strong disdain to herself as she watched her clueless target without a sound.

The 18-year old brunette that identified as her target laughed giddily as she twirled around with a toddler in her arms. The baby let out cries of joy that seemed to pierce through Sayomi’s heart like daggers as she thought of little Killua.

The girl almost seemed like a reflection of herself, and the innocence of the situation made Sayomi’s shoulders slump as she looked at herself in disgust.

What was she thinking?

There’s no way she would be able to kill a target if she began to sympathize with them. She was supposed to be impartial, cold-blooded and cold-hearted like the rest of her family. But Sayomi was ashamed of herself, to say the least, and she wouldn’t, no, couldn’t go through with the job.

Carefully turning from her spot behind the wall, she used her stealth and speed to exit the suite back through the balcony all within a split second, before the target could notice the slight breeze left in Sayomi’s trail.

Wasting no time, she jumped down back into the balcony of her client’s room directly below, landing with the soft patter of her boots upon cement.

Walking into her client’s room without a second glance to the expectant man, she muttered under her breath that she couldn’t take out the target and continued to leave before he could process the situation.

☾ i.

Sayomi’s client had notified Kikyo of her daughter’s inability to accomplish the hit later that day, leaving her fuming with anger and embarrassment towards her eldest child.

Upon Sayomi’s return that night, Kikyo was already waiting, arms crossed and whip in hand. In a state of mindlessness, Sayomi feet led her to trudge quietly into one of the empty stone cells, ready to accept her punishment.

Kikyo scoffed at her daughter’s actions and followed the 10 year-old into the cell, knuckles turning white with her grip on the handle of the whip.

With Zeno and Silva out on their own missions, no one was around to bail Sayomi out of her mother’s wrath, and the torture lasted longer than usual with Sayomi’s refusal to answer any of Kikyo’s questions.

Kikyo was merciless, hitting Sayomi left and right until her hands bled from the grip, blinded by rage and shame.

Sayomi self-consciously endured the hits, mind blank as her body transitioned into survival mode with her lips shut tight as blood began to run down her body pooling at her feet.

She didn’t regret her decisions, however, and only let a few stray tears slip out when she thought about Killua’s smile again and his future that would very much match her own.

Though it was betrayal to think this way, she hoped he would escape.

☾ i.

When Sayomi had woken the next day to the sound of sprinklers running in the garden, she found her wounds bandaged meticulously, along with a note next to her head.

It read: “You were brave to stand against mother. But remember our purpose and don’t be stupid. - Illumi”.

Sayomi had grimaced both at the note’s contents and the pain that shot up her body as she moved to get out of bed.

She made a mental note to thank Illumi later for carrying her back to her room and set out to the training yard.

Breaking out into a jog towards the yard, Sayomi rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and attempted to tie her hair back while she picked up the pace. She winced visibly just thinking about having to train with her wounds still fresh and let out a defeated sigh as the yard came into view.

Arriving at the training yard, Sayomi’s jogging came to an abrupt stop as she saw her mother was standing with Illumi instead of their regular instructor.

Sensing the tense atmosphere, Sayomi walked briskly towards Illumi and her mother keeping her head low and eyes trained on the grass beneath her feet.

Lifting her head the slightest bit to sneak a peek at Illumi, she faltered as his eyes were trained towards the distance behind their mother, unable to read his emotions.

Kikyo finally spoke up, breaking the heavy silence that had fallen upon the three Zoldycks. “Today’s training will be a little different. It’s become apparent that we haven’t been toughening up you kids enough, so for today’s session, the two of you will fight each other until either can no longer continue. A lesson about showing mercy.”

Sayomi’s head whipped up towards her mother and then Illumi. “But father said we should never harm each other unless a mission is at stake!”

Kikyo slapped her daughter across the face and her voice showed no sympathy as she spoke. “Sayomi, dear. Don’t you think you’ve acted out enough by now?”

Sayomi only blinked a few times, ignoring the stinging sensation on her right cheek as she looked at Illumi once again.

He hadn’t moved an inch, his black eyes unwavering as Sayomi’s violet ones searched his face for any signs of emotion. There was nothing.

The twins walked out to face each other in front of their mother, waiting for the other to initiate an attack. It was a battle of nerves, as much as it was the reluctance to fight one another.

From where he stood, Illumi’s needles were untouched from their spot on his waist belt, as were Sayomi’s strapped to her upper left arm and thigh. It was a silent agreement made between the twins, neither wanting to deal more damage than would already have to be done.

Both Sayomi and Illumi knew there was no getting out of the situation, and with the meeting of their eyes, the match began.

Illumi’s right hand clenched into a fist as he swung aiming to uppercut Sayomi in the jaw, making the first move.

Sayomi had lept back instantly, before dodging another flurry of kicks and punches sent her way. She had decided well before the match began that she wouldn’t retaliate Illumi’s attacks even it meant losing.

She knew Illumi wouldn’t go as far as to make her suffer, so her plan was to put on a show for her mother until she deemed she would be satisfied. This way, only one of them had to get hurt.

As the gap between Illumi and Sayomi continued to close in, Sayomi found herself taking hits left and right, unable to defend against everything.

A critical, hard kick to the side, several hits to the face, and an orbital fracture dealt to her right eye was what finally led to Sayomi’s fall.

Bunches of brilliant white hair strayed from her once neat ponytail as Sayomi fell to her knees, incapable of continuing on with the fight.

With the blood pounding in her ears, Sayomi barely made out her mother’s furious words of which caused her to shut her eyes in wait. “Illumi! Do it now! Use your needles to teach that disgrace a lesson!”

She waited. 1, 2, 3 seconds and opened her eyes to the scene unfolding in front of her.

For the first time in a while, Illumi’s face gave away to his emotions as he shouted back against his mother.

His eyes were full of rage and hate as he continued to shout, and though she couldn’t make out the exact words he was using, Sayomi’s heart twinged at the sight of her normally obedient brother taking a stand against their mother.

The edges of her vision were blurry, and she found it hard to keep her head up as the scene began to spin in front of her, right before the ground lurched to the right from under her causing her to fall forward into darkness.

☾ i.

to be continued.

130 notes · View notes

therealmintedmango · 4 years ago

Text

Cerberus - Part One

Summary: ...”An eerie shadowy figure looms across the way making my murderous blood run cold. It looks smaller than a bear so the thought of running into a bloodthirsty wild animal leaves my mind. It looks not like a wild boar or cat. Wait. There appears to be not just one figure looming across the meadow but two. My eyes widen. The figures don't move but they both stand like humans would upon two legs. But they are bigger… Much larger now that I squint across at these two unknown figures. My stomach drops as I feel like a low growl is produced by the looming, unwavering figures… with… glowing amber eyes?...”

~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~

Genre: Werewolf/ Shifter AU; Medieval AU; Strangers-To-Lovers AU; Heavy Angst; Soulmate AU; Eventual romance/ smut

Beta Read By: @justanothergirlfromeurope Thank you so much my darling for helping me with this! You are wonderful! Thank you! 💖

Rating: NC 18+, Explicit

Words: 5,379

Pairings: (Eventually) ot7 BTS x Human Female Reader

Warnings: Dark themes; Possible Yandere Vibes in the future; Death; Gore; Murder/ Killing; Implied Incest (nothing happens - I promise); Mentions of being naked/ being seen naked; I think that’s it.

It’s late July in the afternoon, the hot sun baking boils on exposed skin if you are a brave enough soul to show any flesh. The cicadas cry, the large winged beasts screaming into the scorching air, sounding like terrible, angry monsters. My giggles cut through the loud droning of the winged beetles, pleased to my core I even let out an unladylike snort, shoulders shaking as Seungkwan tells the group of us a joke. I sit with a few of my brothers - the princes of the land in which father rules - in the shade of the maple when the laughing ceases as a shadow blocks the sun from roasting us further. The younger crowd of my brothers and I look up to see it is men from the king’s court, walking over to our shady spot in the garden, solemn features, shiny hats, and a loyalty to my father is the only thing they share.

They say that mother has passed.

My brother Minghao gets up and asks where the older kin of boys are. The advisors tell him as he barks at us to stay here. The castle, they say. Infection, they say. Seokmin gasps, the bright smile like mother’s downturned at the news. Seungkwan’s joyful attitude dies. Vernon covers his face with his hands, a sob ripping from his throat. Youngest of my thirteen brothers, Chan, clings to me suddenly, tears welling in his large brown orbs as I hold him steadfast.

The food sitting in my stomach feels rotten and cursed all of a sudden. All the sound dies from my ears, my mouth hangs open as the breath escapes me.

Infection they say? How could they say such a thing? She was never ill, I think as people are running in and out of the castle, screaming and crying—something I wish I could do at this moment. I flinch, hearing my most vicious brother - Soonyoung - bellow a sound I wasn’t aware he was able to produce.

I feel the same, but only in my heart for my lips cannot utter even a simple, single whisper.

I was never close with mother even being the only daughter she had out of the fourteen children she created over the years with father when she was fertile - the only job a woman of nobility has in these times. And when she is finished having many children she is to still retain her youthful appearance which she did easily.

They said that she gave her children a little piece of herself when she birthed us all. Chan has her sparkling eyes, Seokmin her smile, Junhui has her high cheekbones, Soonyoung has her unbreakable spirit, Minghao has her sharp tongue, Jeonghan has her cunning brain, Jihoon has her feisty attitude, Mingyu has her ability to be understanding and kind in the midst of her fire and passion, Seungkwan retains her strange sense of humor, Wonwoo got her cool intelligence, Vernon got her uncanny skill to be so young but so strong at the same time, Seungcheol has her unyielding stride, and Joshua her wit. And they say that I am a twin of my mother physically: her hair, her body type, her smile, eyes, her wide hips, sharp shoulders, feet, hands, legs, and even my fingernails.

I only wish I had her spirit and fire my brothers bear, but perhaps they took it all before I was created in her belly? They say that children suck precious things out of you. Did I take everything else from her? Was my guilt eating me alive?

My father, the king of this land, kept her locked away most of the time in the high tower of the west portion of the castle. I don’t know much about father but I know he is easily jealous. He wants the best whatever that may be: the most children, the best cloaks, the best military, the cleanest streets, the shiniest coins, the happiest peasants, the most beautiful queen in all of the land. Father hated when mother would talk to anyone that wasn’t close kin at dinner time or when we went to the market when she would merely look at the fruit seller man. She would be gone for days, no trace of her for a week or so, emerging with tired eyes, brushing the stray hairs from my face as she smiled sadly at me. Little did I know there was no fruit seller in the cobblestone market either.

Still, my heart aches for a mother I had and hardly ever knew.

The sound of the boisterous cicadas fills my ears, hearing returning to normal as brothers Jeonghan and Joshua come to collect us shortly after that, faces made of what looks like stone.

It has been many moons since mother has passed. The air that was once ripe with colors and sounds is quieter now. It’s cool, my peacoat and shawl wrapped around me when I roam the garden in the afternoon with a different brother each day. It’s almost time for a harvest moon which comes in a week, Wonwoo told me on our walk yesterday. The demons and goblins of the underworld are said to have sprung up from the dirt and mud during these times. We sent mother away on a burning ship out to sea so I can’t help but wonder if mother is in the sky, the ground, or the sea still.

My brother Soonyoung and I walk quietly together, the brown leaves crunching under our boots. It is a rare time when his voice is still. I know he is pondering what to say to me.

What can one say to me?

I love them deeply though, their touch and affection they still bring to me after each day. Sun up to sun down they coddle me. They have always coddled me, even the elder ones who are fit and strong and ready to be wed treat me as if I am a babe. I used to hate feeling like this, like I am small and unimportant, a babe who needs protecting. The only daughter the king has ever had. One of fourteen. I am no one to my father, to his people. But to my brothers now I see, I am their youngest sister. Something they only have one of. They cling tighter to me emotionally and physically now that mother is no longer here.

I will take this feeling and hold onto it. I am important to them for that is why they treat me this way.

The sound of horse hooves clattering up the path behind startles me. Soonyoung shields me, pulling me into his warm chest. I am comforted and protected.

“Prince Soonyoung, Princess.” The captain speaks monotone. They do not call my name for I am a woman. Even of nobility and the pride of my brothers, I have no name besides my title.

The captain’s lips move. I have no idea if what I heard was true. Soonyoung snarls and tells them that it's preposterous and evil and to shoo before he cuts them with his blade attached to his hip. They turn on their stallions and leave, a fog rolling into the garden as I feel hot and confused.

Did I hear them correctly?

They say that father wants to marry me.

They say that he will never be able to find a bride as beautiful and as perfect as my mother. They said that I will wed at sunset tomorrow.

It is my turn to be made of stone as I fall into darkness. My breath is gone, a warm exhale hits the cool air, leaving my lips in a wisp before I pass out in my middle brother’s strong arms.

When I awaken, my eldest brother, Prince Seungcheol, is heard pleading with my father in the political hall. His usually calm voice echoes against the rock of the building, the fire crackling in his basins as my thirteen brothers all object to me being my father's next bride. His brows are kit, furrowed as his lips speak my thoughts for me while father watches with mild amusement, seated at his holy throne.

“She is not ready to be wed! She has not even bled yet!” He remarks, flinging his hands out to his sides. Little do they know, I have, I have just kept it a secret, becoming a woman is nobody's business but my own. “She is your daughter! Think, father! Think! How the kingdom will hate you for that! It is vile!” His voice cracks, tears swim in his brown eyes as my brothers shake their heads in agreement.

Yes. How vile indeed, I think watching them all silently behind a pillar from above the hall.

Father gets up with a wretched smile stretched upon his lips. I take a few steps forward, uncloaking myself from the secrets of the darkness in my nightgown a maid must have dressed me in, looking over the stone railing. “She is our littlest sister! Our only sister! She deserves to be married for love and only love-“

SLAP.

I gasp as my stomach pits into itself. My brothers flinch.

“How dare you talk like this to me, Seungcheol!” Father spits, anger flashing in his eyes like the fire in the torch basins. “She is a woman. She has no rights no matter who and what she is. She belongs to me.”

“How dare you treat Y/N like an object and not like your daughter!” Soonyoung snarls, mothers fire lit inside of him like the hot sun. He is brilliant and strong like a tiger who burns through the forest in his powerful wake.

Father raises his hand striking Soonyoung across his cheek with a sound that echoes in the corners of the hall. Something falls from his hands, though its clanking sound is covered up from the shouts that follow.

“How dare you thirteen boys!” Father is shouting, my feet are moving on their own, rushing down the stairs to my brothers. “All of you are utterly worthless!” He shouts as Mingyu, the tallest brother, rage ablaze on his face as he moves toward the king, arms raised as he acts like he is about to slap father.

Please, don’t! Is what I want to say, but I cannot.

“Guards!” My father shouts into the hall as they come running in at his command. “Flog them all hundred lashes each!” He smiles a wicked smile as I run up to the scene with the ones carrying swords and pointed sticks. “And if they make a sound give them ten more!”

My brothers are being beaten and detained and my heart is breaking into fragile glass as the noise and blood coming from their mouths is too much to bear.

I do the only thing I can do.

It is my turn to protect my brothers.

Please mother, give me all your strength to stand up to this vile, evil man who surely killed you for the sport of it. My gut twists thinking of the peril I may face rising to the challenge that is our father.

“Stop!” I say, my voice shaking as the next few seconds feel like hours and the eyes of all the men in the hall are on me. I walk toward my weathered and old looking father as he smirks a devilish grin down at me ascending the steps to his throne.

“Father please, I beg you: I will marry you and do whatever you say, as long as you let them go now.” My voice does not shake now. My voice is calm and steady. Mother’s spirit fills me at this moment as I speak up to my father. Before this, I have not spoken to him before this for what feels like eons until now.

“No!” Several of my brothers yell as I stand in false confidence, inhaling the iron from the red liquid that fills the hall. “No! No! No!” They shout as I stand in front of the man that doesn’t see me as a daughter. I am an object to him, whether I like it or not.

He smiles, stroking his wiry, grey beard as he sits back on his golden chair, cloaks draped over his shoulders pool and spill over the seat behind him.

“Whatever you say?” Father quips and I nod, hands balling into fists onto my sides, nails that are not mine dig into skin that is also not mine. “Then strip.”

My eyes grow wide, my lips part in shock, my blood which is mine boils, white-hot and merciless trapped in this skin that should belong to my mother.

“Father, please!” Jeonghan, my father’s son and second eldest, pleads now. “Be reasonable!”

“She said anything, boys.” My father, the ugly worm that he is, states calmly.

“Should a virgin be seen like this before she is wed?” Joshua makes a good point while father rips his pupils away from me as Jihoon, smart bugger that he is, recites the article of the kingdom where it is unlawful for a virgin to be seen in such a state before she is made another man’s woman.

Father scoffs as he says, “Flog them two hundred times if they don’t like-“

“No.” I say, holding my ground, brushing hair out of my face. All eyes on me again as Chan starts crying. “I will do what you wish.”

“Then do it!” Father shouts, banging his fist on the arm of the golden seat as he gets up. “Do it now and if anyone makes a noise: I will behead you.”

I do it. I find the buttons on my yellow nightgown, my hands do not shake or waver as I shake the comfortable garment from my shoulders. My slip is the only thing that covers me now. My brothers close their eyes, look away, Chan choking on his sobs but the only thing I can hear is the roar of the crackling of fire. I step out of my nightgown, walking up to my father's throne. I see it. Glinting in the torch light. A stray blade lies upon the steps close to the devil king that is my flesh and blood.

Praise the gods for the viscous middle brother I have.

I step out of my white slip now, distracting the men who have their wicked eyes set upon me, hungry wolves ready to take any meat they can. I hold my father’s gaze as it travels down my body, making sure he does not look upon what my right hand is doing.

I have it. I move quickly, the spirit of my mother now fully alive inside of the body that is said not to be mine.

But now it’s mine.

I am not a disrespectful child nor have I lashed out against my parents ever. I followed the rules without exception, never spoke out of turn and always let my older brothers go first for treats and presents. Always. I am a slave to my family and the system that I was born into. The ugly demons and snaggle-toothed goblins are really alive and well during this time as my brothers have said. The scent of strong ale hits my nose the closer I get. Maybe the beings of the underworld have possessed him? I am looking for a way out, a way to logically justify the way father is. But no. I know the real answer.

This man is evil. Has always been evil. And he needs to be stopped.

I am not a killer. But I am sick of the mistreatment of my family. I know my father killed my mother. There was no infection. None.

Like a crazy witch with eyes burning like white-hot coals, whose blood is singeing to be set free, I plunge the pointed blade into my father’s throat.

Blood spurts from his neck, squirting against my bare flesh, his eyes roll back as he gurgles profanity, my body blazing as my whole existence is overcome with the desire to end this cycle of corrupt injustice.

“Run!” Vernon shouts as the guards descend in my direction. I drop the blade in haste, my brothers scream for me to run away as the guards scream mutiny.

And I do.

—

-Somewhere deep within the neighboring wood...-

“I’m hungry.” A clear tenor tone sounds off in the dark wood, a small chuckle leaving his lips as he resumes a human form in all his naked glory. Hoseok’s lithe body full of sweat glistens under the moonlight as he reaches for his purple cloaks under the large tree in the middle of the bog they just finished running around in.

“Me as well, brother.” A deep bass vibrates off the trunks of the thick trees, his wolf form morphing into his handsome, tan body.

“Taehyung, Hoseok.” A soft voice wafts through the air. “We aren’t to feast before the full moon.” The eldest quips, melting from his shiny fur, shaking his dark locks free from his collar as he dresses under the almost pregnant moon.

“I can’t wait.” The second eldest grunts as he comes into the torch light that was burning on the stump next to their favorite tree. “The air is ripe with so much wildlife tonight.” He wets the edges of his lips, the thought of fresh, pink, juicy flesh at the forefront of his mind as well as his brothers.

“Where are Jungkook and Jimin?” Namjoon growls as he quickly morphs into his tall self, sweaty skin glistening under the light from the mother moon. Their run through the dense wood was very fruitful in the sense that they let loose and got a lot of pent up energy out of their bodies.

“Weren’t they behind you, Yoongi?” Seokjin questions as he scoops up the younger one’s clothes in his arms, signaling Taehyung and Namjoon to take the torch light. Yoongi shakes his white hair back and forth with a solemn grunt. “Very well,” Seokjin nods, twitching his nostrils in the air. “Hoseok, you have the loudest howl. Will you please call for the troublemakers?”

The man with the hair as bright as cherry pie chuckles right before he sucks in a large breath. The third eldest bellows a howl that will be heard throughout the wood surely.

They wait with bated breath for two of the younger brothers to respond. The wind whips around them carrying the smell of fallen, rotting leaves, thick moisture in the atmosphere, and the odor of something unfamiliar in the air. They all exchange looks in the torches' soft, orange glow. Something doesn’t feel right.

The five brothers start to become uneasy. Taehyung shifts on his feet. Yoongi wets the edges of his lips more. Namjoon shifts his eyes between his brothers, swallowing uncomfortably. Hoseok frowns, kicking a few leaves in the dirt as he waits for the brothers to return his call.

After another moment or two, the second eldest bristles, anger flashing in his amber orbs. “I swear if those wild banshees from the Twicelands have set another trap for us in our forest-“

The white-haired brother is cut off by the sudden cry of both of his brothers they were in search of, coming east off the dense bog.

“Come quickly!” Jimin yelps, his higher pitch ringing around the wood. “Come see brothers!”

Meanwhile, Jungkook only utters one word that has the brothers taking off like bats out of the deep trenches of hell. “Mate!”

—

My skin is on fire, my fingertips numb, and my feet hurt as I run naked from the castle into the blackness of the night.

I escaped through the kitchens, not a sane soul awake at this hour so I quietly slipped through the cracks. I hear more yelling and shouting but I cannot slow down. The blood of my father drips down my naked body, making me feel like a painted warrior.

A shout is heard from the stable. The men on my father’s court call my name but it is not a happy sound. It is a sound of lies, of deceit, of pain they want to inflict upon me. I shudder when I hear Soonyoung scream a throaty battle cry into the evening air, on his way to find these men and rip them limb from limb surely.

Under the almost full, pregnant moon, a blood bath is occurring in the usually peaceful castle.

I trip on an exposed root from a tree beyond the stables. When I gather myself, pushing up off the ground, I see a bed sheet hanging from a line out to dry and I snatch it from the air. I tie it, tugging it around myself loosely, giving my legs room to carry me off into the thick wood that lines the backside of the castle.

Dread and fear taint my senses as I pad along the brush barefoot, trying to maintain a quietness even though I am running. The fallen leaves crunch underfoot, the earth cold. My naked body starts to shiver, the adrenaline of my actions wilting away as I fly through branches and bushes. I have no clue where I am headed, the pale moonlight guiding me. Wherever I see on my path I go next.

My feet slip on the slick ground under my feet. I trip over my heel several times, mud and dirt covering my palms as I right myself. I must not look like a princess, so disgusting, covered in blood and unkept in this feeble, white bed sheet.

I have to press on, I remind myself.

My breathing is ragged as I climb through long, pointed branches and under low shrubs. I stop for a second to catch my breath as I glance at the almost completely blackened forest. The nightlife of the dark wood whispering around me: bats screeching overhead, crickets that haven’t died out sing into the cold night air, even a pack of wolves howl out into the throes of the velvet evening.

I suck in a cool gust of air, ready to trek along the unknown path once more.

Wisps of my breath leave my lips as the cold night air stings my lungs. It feels as though I have been running for ages, the torch light not visible through the thickness of the tall trees. Have I run far enough? I think as I come to a little clearing in the wood, a meadow of soft, lush clover encompasses the land.

An eerie shadowy figure looms across the way making my murderous blood run cold. It looks smaller than a bear so the thought of running into a bloodthirsty wild animal leaves my mind. It looks not like a wild boar or cat. Wait. There appears to be not just one figure looming across the meadow but two. My eyes widen. The figures don't move but they both stand like humans would upon two legs. But they are bigger… Much larger now that I squint across at these two unknown figures. My stomach drops as I feel like a low growl is produced by the looming, unwavering figures… with… glowing amber eyes?

A wind whips through the meadow quickly, breezing from behind me, whipping my hair and the bedsheet about like a flag on a pike.

I hear the sound of horses and I gasp, covering my mouth with the noise I just made. I shake my head, snapping out of my trance of looking to the almost human like figures.

Have they found me? Have the guards and the men of my father’s court located me? My brothers were surely fighting, right? I pray none of my kin have lost their lives because of me. Or are they not men from my father’s castle? Would they hurt me? Torture me? Deflower me?

I shudder.

I turn to run east, looking over my shoulder to the figures that have disappeared in the trees. A fog sweeping through the thicket, blocking my vision. It was probably a trick of my scared mind, I remind myself.

Another thought chills me to the bone as I feel the exposed skin of my legs and arms slice under the thorn bush I accidentally stumble into, making more noise than necessary. I squeak in pain. The more I try and pry myself of the spikes, the more I become entangled inside of the nasty, winding plant. I want to call for help but I don’t want to alert whatever is coming near me.

It is almost the harvest moon. The line between realms is blurred meaning creatures that normally I think exist in fairy tales are real at this time of year. Could it be a wandering herd of ghouls? A pack of wild demons coming to devour my flesh clean off my bone? My body shakes with uncertainty as I paw about the dirt.

Ever since I was a little girl, my brothers have warned me about the wood. I should never go in alone. I should always bring someone. I should always have a weapon or a horse or something to protect me. Monsters are said to lurk in the bog that the wood surrounds in a thick sea of lush brush and vegetation.

An owl hoots overhead as the sound grows thicker, heavier. The footfalls inching closer and closer by the second. The wolf’s howl sounds off again, this time the cries from the beast desperate - the noise much too close for comfort.

No, I think as I freeze with a bone-chilling noise that vibrates off the trees around me. Not just one lone wolf howl. There are two very distinct animal noises that echo off the earth I lie bound to. One softer and longer. The other a little nasally and short - more like a bark than a howl.

I should have run to the market, I think, body shaking from the cold and acute fear that plagues my mind. I should have tried to hide with a peasant or two until this treacherous act blew over or married a nobleman’s family in a neighboring town. Mentally I chastise myself as the thunderous noise draws closer and closer. Why am I so rash?

My heart hurts, it clenches in around itself as I look up into the shimmering moon hanging low in the sky. In a bed of thorns I lie, blood from wounds of my own and from my father still flows down my body, exhaustion overtakes me finally. I’m entangled, suffocating in the sharp spikes that pierce my body, choking me from the freedom I so desire. I can’t move my muscles, my body tense and sore, my feet blistered and cold. I’m weary. A tear rolls out of my eye and falls onto my dirty cheek as I snap my orbs tightly closed, the horses almost upon me, I think as I hiccup a sob.

All of a sudden, the boisterous noise of what sounded like a hundred horses pounding toward me, stops. I suck in a breath and prepare for the worst. An eye for an eye, right? So they should slit my throat like I did to father.

It is my turn to die.

“Little bird,” a soft, steady tenor of a voice purrs out above me that I don’t recognize. My eyes fly open, revealing a glowing torch light and a few handsome faces I cannot place hanging around me. “It seems you’ve flown far from your nest.” He simpers, flames dancing off his puffy lips as he gently brushes a stray hair away from my unkempt face. He shows no disgust, only empathy as he gazes upon me trapped in this tangle of wild thicket.

I flinch as the long thorn branches I have ensnared myself in are being removed from my shivering body. The other boys, I’m unsure of how many surround me, take extreme caution, trying not to harm me as they pull the plants off of me.

“Are you from Royaume des Diamants (Kingdom of Diamonds)?” His puffy, pink lips utter quietly in the night. I stare at his sculpted face, admiring his accent as I feel like the terrors of the darkness are melting away with his soft speech. I say nothing but look up into the rich eyes that seem to glow a golden-amber shade in the torch light. They bewitch me and I am in awe. “Little bird?” His perfect brows twist into an expression of concern and I take a moment to glance away from his otherworldly face and to his other features for a second.

Dressed in rich purple with gold medals hanging from his broad shoulders, I can tell he was from a family of prestige. His lips are giant and lush but they are not out of place on his pale face. He appears to be a prince from those fairy tales I’ve heard so much about from the stories my brothers have told me since I was a babe. His dark hair envelopes his face, curling just at the ends, making him look far younger than I am sure he is. They finish uncovering me from the thorns and all gaze upon me covered in blood, dirt, sweat - looking positively disheveled - the farthest thing from a princess.

“Hyung,” a deep bass speaks from behind the broad shouldered noble-man, “she’s shivering.” A tan boy with thick eyebrows observes above me. His velvety voice makes my cold body feel warm with the way his timbre seems to echo off the wood of the trees around me.

“I know you are probably frightened and it looks like you have been through a lot…” The prince-like man holds an arm out for me to take. “...and even though your lips don’t speak, I do not wish for you to freeze out here in the wood.” The boys surrounding me shake their heads in agreement with the handsome one speaking. “Will you come with us, little bird?”

I don’t want to die and I don’t want to die out here in the cold night. Even if they want to hurt me or worse, I don’t want to die frozen to death in the thicket. Somehow, I don’t think they are bad men, but my threshold of trust was high due to the internal struggle I faced with my family. Still, I feel oddly comforted by the seven who are mostly quiet above me.

As I go to speak - to tell them ‘yes’, opening my lips slowly, nothing comes out. Not a peep or a squeak I can utter. The boys share looks of confusion at my lack of acknowledgment. My orbs flit from one handsome face to the next. Are they all princes wearing the same cloaks of purple and gold? I register you all, I swear I think in my mess of a mind. My body is too exhausted, not being able to do anything but nod once.

That’s all they needed to collect me it seems.

“Come, little bird.” The soft voice purrs again as I am being propped up gingerly, carefully by one of the boys around me. I lull my head against his warm body, a blanket or a cloak (I haven’t a clue which) was placed upon my dirty body. This boy is strong, not struggling to hold me up in the slightest I think as my eyelids flutter. I look up to him. He has long, black-as-night curly hair that falls around his neck, smiling tenderly down at me, his nose is long and rounded at the tip, a little mole under his lip catching my eyes that flutter more and more with every breath I take. Sleep was overtaking my body now that I know I am safe. “We will take you to a place where you will not suffer any longer.”

And with that affirmation, I nestle closer in the arms of the strong, young boy, believing the prince-like voice that hums a sweet lullaby. I yawn while he continues stroking my matted, tangled hair as I fall fast asleep against this stranger's chest.

I miss the seven smiles and nods, drinking me in with their sparkling amber gazes.

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PART TWO

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