#let's be real. he's probably had an entire pot by now.

[kharonion]

the rare morning smile (coffee helps)

[yandere-romanticaa]

𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐭.

🎀 Traveling from nation to nation and learning the art of creating the most delicious chocolate has been a passion of yours for ages. However, upon stepping foot into the Nation of Flame, you never could have prepared yourself for the incoming wave of sweetness and obsession which was going to hit you like never before.

A/N: This story is loosely inspired by Joanne Harris' book of the same title, Chocolat. It's a book that I am very fond of and I was inspired to write this once I saw that we were able to make chocolate in Natlan, probably the best thing in the game. I am a massive chocolate enjoyer, so... Also, the fic has some minor nsfw implications, just a bit of a heads up! Apologies if Kinich is not in character, oopsie.

yandere! kinich x fem! reader.

Proud warriors, the scorching hot sun and eternal flames were the first things that came to mind whenever you would think about Natlan. As a humble Mondstadter, it never occurred to you just how rich this nation was, how welcoming the people were going to be and not to mention how this place could help you develop your love for chocolate.

Stirring the pot in front of you was no easy task as the decadent scent of delightful goodness enveloped the entire humble little hut which you occupied, the entire floor littered with pots and pans filled to the brim with your creations and some personal trinkets which you had brought for yourself along for the journey.

One of Natlan's great tribes, the Scions of the Canopy, had graciously taken you under their wing and allowed you the privilege of experiencing the culture firsthand. You let out a wistful sigh as the chocolate bubbled happily before you, the dark liquid almost looking too good to be real.

You always took pride in your skills as a chocolatier, even if you hardly considered yourself the best one in the whole entire world. An endless sky of knowledge was out there waiting for you, the voices of the unknown beckoning you to come forward and seize them with your own two hands.

You were a true Mondstadter at heart. No matter where you were or how far you traversed, the wind was always there to guide you, to show you the right path. And right now, the flow of the wind said to stay in Natlan, to finally stop and smell the roses a little.

And each rose you touched had never been as sweet.

The rose, your rose, had a name and merely thinking of him sent your heart ablaze. Messy dark hair, gorgeous dew eyes and skin so perfectly rough and tender at the same time, it made you wonder how he managed to pull off something so contradictory.

That was Kinich's charm, you supposed. Cheeky little thing, he always looked out for you ever since he saw you. Despite his dry humor and straightforward attitude, there was a certain gentle quality to him which made him so irresistible, as if he was temptation personified. Never once did he leave you alone for the entirety of your trip if it could be helped, which came as a shock to his fellow tribe members.

Looking back on it, you were foolish to not see his intentions, even more so for not paying attention to the longing glimmer in his eye and how he would trail after you like a shadow.

He was shy, at first. Unsure on how he should express his feelings, Kinich merely resorted to doing things for you, because he was simply that kind of man. Actions speak louder than words and there was no word in the dictionary which could describe the way in which his chest would tighten in pain whenever he would make eye contact with you, as if large and thorny vines had sprouted from the ground up and taken root in his soul.

You are sweeter than any chocolate you could possibly make, he whispered into your ear one evening.

A shudder came over you, your cheeks hot at the memory of that night... The moon was high and full, overtaking the pitch black sky as Kinich had pinned you to the ground, his gaze boring deeply in your own, those large eyes focused on you and only you...

Chewing your bottom lip, you stirred the pot harshly as the memory replayed in your head over and over - his grip, which was tighter than any rope imaginable, the feeling of melted chocolate which was caked over your lips and fingers, the sensation of Kinich's tongue as he licked away the sweet goodness off your body...

By the seven, this was too much.

With a huff, you turned off the fire which was lit beneath the pot, your hands shaking with excitement as you felt your entire body growing hotter and hotter, making it harder to concentrate.

Damn that Kinich. Damn him for making you feel so wonderful, so wanted, so perfect. The thought of having to leave this place, it... It bordered on anguish. Sometimes, when you were sure no one was around, you would find a dark little corner and weep quietly to yourself. It was hard to manage the massive hiccups and keep the snot away from staining your clothes at first but you managed. Like always, you would find a way to get everything back in order and all would be well once you got everything out of your system.

You had fallen for Natlan. You had fallen even more so than Kinich. Even so, the wind was picking up once more, demanding that you make your next move.

There was so little time left to enjoy everything you had built here. Therefore, your plan was to make the most of everything you possibly could.

And Kinich was more than ready to assist with that.

He hid high up in a tree as he observed you, his face schooled into that of one of his classical nonchalance and stoicism. The chance of him being spotted by anyone up here was slim but even so, he liked to play it safe.

No one needed to know the pain he was in. No one needed to be aware of his more... dubious thoughts and actions. Kinich always fancied himself as a man of action rather than flowery words. And so, he acted.

Quietly, stealthily... Perhaps even a little lethally at times.

Violence was hardly ever the answer but if anyone got in his way and refused to back down, it was his only solution then.

Kinich had a solid reputation in his tribe - he was trustworthy, he was strong. This granted him access to many things, many useful and convenient things. All he had to do was say the word and most people would keep their mouths shut if they saw him somewhere he should not be. And if his poorly veiled threats were not enough, he was more than ready to take up his weapon and fight.

It really was that easy for him.

Sneaking into your newly built home was its own beast though.

This is wrong, he would chant inside his mind over and over again. The intensity of his actions and his nonchalant persona were always at a clash with one another, constantly fighting a never ending war. He should trust you, he knows you are capable, he has no right to be doing any of this even yet... And yet, he does it anyway.

Because he knows that if he doesn't do something, he will never see you again. Kinich knows that he will lose you to the wind if he lets you slip through his fingers, he will never get to experience what it means to be touched, to be loved.

He wants to adore you in the same way people adore your delectable creations. The various statues made from chocolates, the little cacao bites, the endless sea of pralines which would be devoured so fast by the masses that he could not keep up...

Whenever he had the luxury, he liked to imagine you as one of those pralines. Perfect and oh so easy to devour, you were nothing short of excellent in his eyes. Kinich was no blind fool, he was well aware that you had your flaws as well but he cared very little about that.

He wanted the entire package. He wanted you, wrapped up in a little bow and delivered on his doorstep like the world's most precious package, a package which he could unwrap and enjoy time and time over.

Even in his hazy state of mind, he could still recall how you tasted. Licking his lips, Kinich made sure to double check that he had taken a few things from your hut which could prevent you from finishing your latest project. Yes, that was petty of him.

But he could not be bothered to care.

The wind was cruel. Whenever a gust of it would blow at him, Kinich would scowl as he knew that it meant that you would take it as a sign to leave. His hair would get tousled as he would wrap his arms around his body, the constant yapping of Ajaw did him no good either.

The clock was ticking. There was only so much he could do to keep you here. A plan needed to be formed, fast.

For now, he was going to enjoy you in every way he could. He was going to be greedy and devour you wholly whenever the opportunity arose. As Kinich balanced himself up on the massive tree branch, yet another fresh gust of wind made its way towards him. He saw the way you popped your shoulders, that all too familiar smile on your face.

You loved the wind and the wind loved you. You loved to make chocolate and were quite excellent at it too.

Despite all that, Kinich loved you more. He adored you more than the sun adored the world, he wanted you more than unlike anything else before. He cursed the Anemo Archon underneath his breath, his poor lip bloody and bruised from the amount of times he had bitten it in order to keep himself quiet.

Kinch was a man of countless deeds. And he would find a way to keep you by his side, no matter the cost. Be it Celestia or the Abyss, there was no force in this world which could destroy the endless and raging fire he felt for you.

[seungkw1]

better late than never — kmg

♡ pairing: kim mingyu x afab!reader ♡ theme: smut [18+ mdni], best friends to lovers, non-idol au ♡ wc: 2.7k ♡ warnings: size kink, oral (f. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), riding, unprotected piv sex (stay safe y’all), creampie, mingyu is a boob guy, praise kink if u squint ♡ a/n: written for my bestie <3 and posting just in time for his birthday - happy mingyu day!!

knock-knock-knock-knock

“come on! let me in!!” 

you approach your front door, but you don’t unlock it yet. 

“what happened to the copy of my key i gave you?” you inquire to the voice on the other side. 

“i forgot it!” 

you turn the deadbolt, opening the door to reveal the man standing outside - the look on his face is sheepish as he stands there, arms full of grocery bags. 

“kim mingyu i asked you to get me three things, not the entire store,” you say incredulously. 

“i saw your fridge the other day. you literally only had cheese, beer, and a jar of pickles in there,” he retorts, shooting you a judgemental look. 

“the three main food groups.”

mingyu rolls his eyes as he enters your apartment. “whatever, i'm cooking you dinner. a real dinner.”

“aye aye captain,” you say as you jokingly salute him. 

you met mingyu freshman year of college, when he burst through the door of your dorm room - thinking it was his own (he was on the wrong floor). his eyes turned wide as saucers as he realized his mistake. 

“SORRY,” he blurted out before fleeing out of the room. he was gone before you had even processed what happened. 

the next day he returned - this time knocking first. you opened the door to see the tall man, holding two packs of ramen. 

“sorry about yesterday,” he apologized, still a bit embarrassed. “i'm an idiot and thought i was on the sixth floor.”

“you're not an idiot, mistakes happen. it's okay,” you assured him amiably. 

“thanks, i’m glad you’re not mad at me or anything,” he replied with a smile. he extended the ramen to you. “it’s not much but i just… felt like i should bring a gift for some reason?” he told you, looking like he was second guessing himself as the words came out of his mouth. 

“ooo it’s the good kind too,” you replied eagerly as you took the ramen from him. “you wanna have one right now?”

he looked surprised, but delighted at your suggestion. 

“actually that would be awesome, those were my last two,” he admits with a laugh. you grin back at him. 

“well, come on in. again.”

–

and so mingyu inadvertently became your best friend. if not for the dorm incident, you probably never would have even crossed paths with him - he was your typical business bro, while you were majoring in psychology and literature. but, something just clicked between you two. 

a handful of years later now, he’s still your closest friend. and here he is, in your kitchen, grabbing the appropriate pots, pans, and utensils to get started on his spaghetti carbonara. as independent of a person as you are, you're not particularly the best chef - so you're grateful for his culinary expertise and willingness to make food for you. 

over dinner, mingyu is his usual chatty self. he tells you about his day, about how his neighbor has picked up the irritating hobby of learning to play the trumpet, about the dog he met yesterday while at the park, about his new coworker who seems to like him a little too much. 

“well, is she cute?” you ask nonchalantly, swirling the wine in your glass.  

“huh?” your question seems to catch him off guard. “i don't know. i mean, i've never thought about it.”

“bullshit,” you tell him, taking a big sip. 

“it's true!”

“right. well think about it, is she?”

“she's conventionally attractive i guess. i don't know why it matters though,” he says sincerely. 

“well if she likes you and she’s cute, you should ask her out.”

“that would be extremely unprofessional,” he scoffs, appalled at your suggestion. “besides, she's not my type.”

“what, is she weird or something?”

“no. and besides, i like weird. but i definitely don't see her like that.”

“what do you mean, you like weird?” you ask, raising your eyebrow. 

“i mean, you’re weird. and i like you.” he says it matter-of-factly, as if he was telling you the grass is green. 

“okay well obviously you don't want to date me,” you reply, rolling your eyes. “but come on, you haven't dated anyone in years. i'm trying to help to you here.”

the expression on his face changes, but you can't quite decipher what he’s thinking. 

“i don't need help.”

you give him a weird look. 

“not like that!” he quickly insists. “i just mean, don't worry about me, i’m fine.”

“ooookay, whatever you say gyu.”

his face remains calm, but you notice the corners of his mouth twitch upward slightly. normally, he’s not a fan of the nickname, but you know you're the only one who's allowed to call him that. he’s told you before. 

“well, what about you?” he asks suddenly. 

you look at him while chewing a big bite of pasta, confused. “what about me what?”

“are you, like… seeing anybody these days?” 

he speaks timidly, as if treading on eggshells. 

“why? are you asking me out?”

“ha ha, very funny,” he says sarcastically. he then shrugs. “i was just curious.”

“i actually did go on a date last week,” you admit. he looks up, surprised. 

“really? how'd it go?”

“surprisingly, really good,” you tell him.

“that's good. you have a long history of terrible first dates.”

“it was a second date, actually.”

mingyu pauses. “and you didn't tell me about the first one? fake as hell.”

“oh shut the fuck up,” you tease back, grinning at him. 

he picks up the bottle of wine sitting on the table. “should we finish this?” he asks. 

“duh.”

he removes the cork, pouring you another glass before refilling his own. 

after the delicious meal, you begin to clean up the kitchen, but mingyu quickly gets up and takes the dishes from your hands. 

“i got it.”

“you did all the cooking, let me do it,” you tell him. 

“nope,” he insists, already scrubbing plates. 

you help anyway, but mingyu is fast. the kitchen is sparkling within ten minutes. 

“damn, this looks better that it did before you got here,” you remark as you start the dishwasher. 

“don't go on a third date.”

you freeze. you look back at mingyu - he's reclining against the kitchen counter. his face, sincere. 

“what?” you ask hesitantly. 

“i said, don't go on a third date.”

he rises, walking toward you. he stops inches away from you, extending his arms, leaning his palms on the counter on either side of you. his face hovers above yours, his warm eyes locked onto yours. 

“gyu, are you drunk?” you ask, knowing full well he's not. your heart is suddenly pounding. 

“i'm not.” he brings his hand up to your chin, tilting your face upwards. “can i kiss you?”

you’re stunned, standing motionless, breathing deeply as he strokes your jawline softly with his thumb. sure, you’d thought about the possibility of dating mingyu before. more than once, even. and you figured he’d probably thought about dating you before. but truly, you never thought he had serious feelings for you. 

but here you are, pinned against your kitchen counter by your best friend. your best friend, who happens to be incredibly attractive. and the way your heart is racing - you really do want to kiss him right now. 

you try to think logically, rationalizing whether this is a good decision, but the emotional part of your brain takes control. you kiss him. you kiss him - and he kisses you, and you stand there, in your best friend’s arms, kissing each other, as if you'd both been waiting for this moment for years. and deep down, you know you have been. 

mingyu grabs hold of you, pulling you up onto the counter. you wrap your arms around his waist, running your hands slowly up and down his torso, feeling his toned body through his soft shirt. he caresses you gently, kissing you still - you're suspended in time, just the two of you, bodies connected like never before. you suddenly cannot believe you've spent years with this man and never once made out with him - but better late than never. 

he softly brings his hands to your sides. your lips finally part - you instantly miss the sensation. he slides his hands under your shirt, pausing right before he reaches your breasts.  

“can i touch them?” he asks, his voice breathy. you nod fervously. he caresses your over your bra, kissing you again as he squeezes your tits in his large hands. you inadvertently let out a soft moan. mingyu grabs the hem of your shirt and pulls it off of you. he looks at you in awe. 

“you're so perfect.” 

he is utterly gushing and swooning over you right now. you feel your heart skip a beat. 

you slip your hands under his shirt, running your hands over his abs and chest. he pulls his shirt off too, standing there before you. you've seen mingyu shirtless before, but not like this. his muscles are striking, perfectly sculpted - his golden, sunkissed skin glows beautifully. you feel a sudden, strong carnal urge to lick him, kiss him, bite him all over. 

you look up at him - the look in his eyes reciprocating your desire. you hop off the counter, taking his hands in yours. you pull his arms, tugging him in the direction of your room. his cheeks turns flush as he realizes your intent - a roguish grin spreads across his face, revealing his pointy canines you’ve always loved.

mingyu wastes no time taking your pants off as you throw yourself onto the bed, reclining against the soft pillows. he gazes at you lustfully as you lay there in your lingerie, unzipping his pants and pulling them off as fast as humanly possible. you feel throbbing in your core at the sight of him standing there - his light gray underwear doing absolutely nothing to disguise the prominent erection underneath. 

he crawls into bed, his body hovering above yours. you wrap your arms around his broad torso, pulling his large frame into yours as you begin to move your hips, grinding against his cock - the wet spot on your panties grows as you rub your cunt against him. it was clear from the moment he took his pants off that he is big, but feeling its length, its thickness, against your clothed pussy is making you clench around nothing - making you wish you were clenching around him instead. 

mingyu gently grabs your arms, pinning them next to your head as he interlocks his fingers with yours. his lips lightly graze against yours. 

“are you sure you want to do this?” he asks softly. you nod immediately. 

“yeah.”

he buries his head into the crook of your neck, kissing you repeatedly. he gradually makes his way down your body, his hands moving to take your bra off, but he pauses.

“can i-”

“you can do whatever you want to me,” you interject.

you feel his cock twitch. “oh god, don't tell me that.”

he unclasps the hook, letting out a moan at the sight of your bare tits. immediately he takes your nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the hardened bud before taking it between his lips. he sucks on your tit like his life depends on it - his hand squeezing and pinching the other as his cock grinds against your core. you're gone already - a moaning mess, putty in his hands. he eventually switches sides, cool air hitting the wetness remaining on your nipple. you get the feeling mingyu could suck your tits forever. 

he eventually moves on, planting kisses down your stomach as he situates himself between your legs. he kisses your inner thighs - slowly approaching your core, but not touching you just yet. you whimper as he finally touches his lips to your clit over your thoroughly wet underwear. he licks you slowly, his tongue running over the thin fabric several times before he slips his finger underneath, pulling your underwear aside, exposing your soaked core. he groans at the sight of it. 

“fuck, just as pretty as i imagined.”

you part your lips to say something, but your words become lost - instantly replaced with cries of pleasure as he begins eating you out. you run your fingers through his hair, grasping onto it as he sucks repeatedly on your clit. he places a large hand on your belly, applying pressure, as he takes two fingers to your pussy, slipping them in with ease. you moan as he begins to fuck you, your hips beginning to buck. 

“more,” you beg. 

you cry out as he adds a third finger - your cunt has never felt so full, but you know this is nothing compared to how his cock would feel in you. he continues sucking your clit, heat rising in your lower stomach as you feel yourself nearing orgasm. you writhe in pleasure, screaming mingyu’s name as he makes you cum - and he makes you cum hard. 

your head spins as you come down from your powerful high. as you catch your breath mingyu crawls back up, laying against you, his radiant body heat making your skin turn hot. he strokes your cheek, pressing his lips hungrily against yours once more. 

“can you… will you ride me?”

your pussy throbs at the mere thought. wordlessly you nod. mingyu reaches down, sliding your panties off before discarding his own underwear. you gasp softly as his cock springs free. you reach down, taking hold of it - its size making your hand appear tiny in comparison. he leans his head back, sighing as you stroke his length, your palm becoming wet with his precum.

you give him a push, rolling over on top of him. his tip grazes your wet cunt as you straddle him, his eyes locked onto yours intensely. you sit up, taking his cock in your hand, rubbing it against your folds a few times, before finally slipping it inside. you slowly lower yourself onto it, whining softly as its thickness stretches you. mingyu groans as you bottom out, sitting entirely on his cock. you haven’t even moved yet, but his breathing is heavy, inhaling deeply as he reaches up to grab onto your breasts. you begin to ride him, slowly moving your hips up and down, his cock filling you up beyond anything you could’ve imagined. you gradually increase your pace, both of you moaning at the overwhelming sensation, until you are fully bouncing on his cock, your palms resting against his muscular chest to steady yourself as you unravel over him. 

mingyu begins to whimper. “you’re so fucking hot,” he utters between heavy breaths. “you’re gonna make me cum.” 

you ride him relentlessly, crying out at how good he feels inside you. his eyes close as he releases, thrusting his hips powerfully as he cums in your pussy - the warmth of his cum filling you up. your pace slows, riding him gently as he finishes, his moans tapering off as he begins to come down. you settle onto his cock, laying on him as you kiss him. he kisses you back lovingly, one hand running through your hair, the other caressing the small of your back. you lay there for a while, his chest rising up and down as he breathes deeply. your heartbeat slows, pounding heavily in your chest as you recover.

slowly, he finally pulls out. you roll to his side, wrapping your arms around him in a warm embrace, squeezing him with all your might. he giggles. 

“mingyu?” you ask softly after several moments of silence.

“hm?”

“you should’ve told me sooner.”

he sighs. “i wanted to - many times. but i didn’t want to risk our friendship. i didn’t think you felt the same way.”

“i think… i think i’ve always loved you. i just never realized it.”

mingyu smiles. he gives you a kiss on the forehead.

“so… what does this mean? for us,” he asks you.

you look up - his warm eyes are fixated on you, optimistic, awaiting your answer.

“well, i really don’t think anything is going to change.” a nervous look washes over his face - you quickly add, “except that we fuck now and also i want you to be my boyfriend.”

he closes his eyes, letting out a laugh. he pulls you closer into his embrace.

“i like the sound of that.”

–

[on-my-vigilante-sht]

Immortal Danger

Apollo x DaughterofDemeter!Reader

Summary: Apollo marries a half-blood without realizing how dangerous it can be.

Warning: PJO universe but no real PJO plot, (kind of) smut, threats, monsters, Ares slander

Word Count: 4.7K

Masterlist | Part 2

A/N Sam Claflin is my personal headcanon for Apollo and if he isn’t cast for the Titan’s Curse season I’m gonna cry

“Am I even allowed to be here?” I asked as Apollo and I materialized in his home on Mount Olympus.

“Probably not but Demeter’s already gonna be pissed when she finds out we eloped in Vegas,” Apollo smiles, pulling me down onto the couch. I laughed as he did so, taking a chance to look around. I was in awe. The ceiling to the sitting room was just a giant skylight and the sun seemed to perpetually shine through it. There were balconies in the column of the sun, revealing the upper levels of the extravagant manor decorated in gold.

“This place is incredible,” I said in awe.

“Yeah, Annabeth did a great job with the remodel. And it’s all yours,” he swore, his lips brushing against my cheek. “Everything that’s mine is also yours.”

“Really?” I challenged teasingly. “Then can I drive the sun chariot.”

He faltered. “Well… after Thalia, I don’t think-”

“I’m joking,” I assured him. “I don’t want to torch Antarctica. Or make North Africa freeze over.”

“I’ll give you lessons some day,” he promised. “Maybe when you’re a goddess and that human nervousness about dying instinct fades.” I laughed before he sprung up. “C’mon,” he said, pulling me up from the couch. “I wanna show you the bedroom.”

“Very subtle,” I chided him.

“I know,” he agreed with a cocky smile as he began climbing the stairs. “But you’re my wife now.” We went up so many levels I was beginning to get tired but Apollo was already practically dragging me up the stairs. When we went to a set of double doors I thought we were done with the stairs but there was one more flight. I followed him up, eyes widening as I realized his room made up the entire top floor.

There was a circle in the floor covered by glass with a view to the sitting room, allowing the sun to shine through the whole house. But the ceiling of the room itself was a glass dome, flooding the whole room with light. Surprisingly, it wasn’t ridiculously hot but that’s a perk of being the sun god. Several plants grew in various pots around the room—I had a sneaking suspicion he added them recently—and the walls were lined with various weapons, mostly bows and arrows. The bed itself was tucked into a sort of alcove, with pillows lining the edge of it, leaning up against the walls so as to make the whole alcove a soft bed. I noticed curtains hanging in front of the bed to shield it from the rest of the room, as well as a contraption above it against the glass probably to block the light from above.

Apollo came up next to me. “I know you’re a light sleeper so I had the curtains put in to block out the light.”

“This is incredible,” I said in awe. “But uh- do gods sleep?”

“We don’t have to but I love sleeping,” he smiled. “It’s one of the best things humans invented.”

I stepped closer to the bed, reaching down to feel the soft mattress. “Gods, do you know how long it’s been since I slept in a bed that wasn’t a twin size mattress?” I asked. Even though at 24 I was far older than any of the other campers at Camp Half-Blood, I had to stay there as the outside world had become too dangerous for me. Once I turned 22, Chiron finally let me have a room in The Big House because even the oldest campers besides for me were still around 17.

“Well,” Apollo began, getting closer until I was laying down on the mattress and his face was so close to mine I could see the gold flecks in his eyes, “I was thinking we’d consummate our marriage in this bed before sleeping,” he suggested, kissing me.

“I’d be open to that,” I laughed, kissing him back. Using godly strength, he managed to wrap an arm around my waist before pulling me up closer to the middle of the bed so our feet weren’t hanging off. As he kissed me, I could feel his hand find the zipper on the back of my wedding dress. But just as he started to bring it down, there was a bell and a shout.

“Apollo?” a masculine voice called through the house.

Our lips parted, and he rested his forehead on mine with a groan. “I hate him.”

“Who is it?” I asked.

“Hermes. Look, he can’t see you. He and I are cool now but he still can’t see you.”

“Okay,” I agreed. “I’ll just stay here.”

He nodded, pressing a kiss to my forehead before running downstairs to an incessant Hermes. As he went down the stairs I watched in amazement as his tux transformed into a t-shirt and shorts. Once he left I started looking around the room more, wary of the giant glass circle in the middle of the room. I went up to the weapons, finding various plaques describing what momentous kill each weapon was responsible for. A little bit self obsessed to have in your bedroom but, hey, that’s Apollo.

As the gods moved to the sitting room I could hear them through the glass. “I know you’ve been dating a demigod,” Hermes’ voice came. “Chiron just sent a distress signal about a missing half-blood.”

“So…?” Apollo’s voice came, trying to act nonchalant.

“I’m saying that the girl you’ve been dating is the missing half-blood. Chiron is worried sick because apparently she’s powerful but will attract a lot of monsters. And Ares is still pissed at you for putting an arrow through him during World War I. She could be in danger of him while not under Dionysus’ protection.”

“Well, I don’t know what to tell you, man. I haven’t seen her in a few weeks.”

“I haven’t known you to go even two days without seeing the person you’re dating.” I could hear the accusing tone in Hermes’s voice. And Apollo knew he was backed into a corner.

“Yeah well, dating a half-blood is hard. Chiron and Dionysus have her on lockdown. And do you know what Demeter would do to me? You remember how she lost it when Persephone ran off with Hades. How am I going to explain that I’m dating her half-human daughter?”

“Well you better pray Ares doesn’t find out about her or he’ll probably kill her just to piss you off.” Kill me?

“Look I’m going to have father turn her into a goddess soon anyway. She’ll be fine.”

“You’re awfully nonchalant about your little human going missing. Is it because she’s actually here?” Hermes accused.

“No!” Apollo said unconvincingly.

“Y/N!” Hermes called. “I know you’re here. Come on out.” I froze. What do I do? Obey the god or obey the other god?

“She’s not here and even if she was, she’d listen to what I said.” I didn’t move, contemplating whether or not I should hide.

“Fine, then you won’t mind if I check your bedroom.”

Σκατά. I could just hide in one of the many other rooms in the house. Hermes probably wouldn’t take the time to check every room. But once I reached the top of the stairs, the door at the bottom opened revealing a very pissed Hermes and distressed Apollo. Curse godly teleportation.

Hermes turned to Apollo. “Wanna do some explaining?” he asked sarcastically, observing my white dress. I just backed away, giving them space to come up the stairs. “Seriously, man. She could be killed because you married her and brought her here without permission,” Hermes explained as they walked up the stairs.

“But no one else is going to know because you’re not gonna tell them,” Apollo said, getting in between me and Hermes. “Right?”

He sighed. “Hi Y/N, congrats on getting married,” he finally greeted me.

“Thanks,” I answered hesitantly.

“Why is she even here?” he asked Apollo.

“Well, we were supposed to go talk to Zeus but I’m working the courage back up,” he laughed awkwardly. Hermes gave him an unamused look. “What? I’ve been single for millennia and then I’m just going to go up to father like ‘Hey, I finally decided to get married. By the way, it’s to a half-blood can you make her immortal too?’”

“So why is she still here?”

“Well Chiron has almost walked in on us having se- OW!” I cut him off with a pinch to his side. “What?” he asked, turning to me.

I could feel the heat rushing to my face now. “Shut up,” I chided him.

“Hermes of all people gets it!” he insisted, slinging an arm around my shoulders. “You can’t honestly say you’ve never brought a girl to Olympus. Like Penelope? Pan’s mother. Because Odysseus would’ve tried to murder you had he walked in on you two.”

“That’s different!” Hermes insisted.

“How?”

Hermes tried to think of an answer for a few minutes before he gave up. “Fine, whatever. But either get her back to camp or tell Zeus what’s going on before anyone else can get their hands on her.” He left no room for argument because he quite literally disappeared in a flash of light that second. Thankfully Apollo had the foresight to cover my eyes for me because Hermes had turned into a ball of light before I could react.

My husband sighed as he looked down at me. “I guess I should return you, huh? I’m sorry I just can’t face Zeus today.”

I smiled softly at him. Truthfully I was in no rush for immortality. I wasn’t quite ready to leave my life behind either way but when Apollo burst into my bedroom declaring that today was the day, I just went with it. Reaching a hand up to cup his jaw I leaned up to kiss him. “Whatever you want, you’re the one who has to take responsibility,” I reasoned.

“Thank you,” he murmured, capturing my lips. “Do you think you can be missing for just a couple more hours?” he asked, pulling away from me.

“Probably,” I agreed. He was immediately scooping my legs up before dropping me onto the bed.

My new husband spent the entire night drawing orgasms out of me until I finally got him to stop. That was the thing about gods, sometimes they didn’t know when to stop because they didn’t always understand human limitations.

I was still breathing heavily from my last peak when I fell asleep on Apollo’s chest, so exhausted.

~

Despite the fact that the sun was down, Apollo could still see his new wife clearly through the moonlight streaming through the glass ceiling. He had laid there for hours, admiring her relaxed features and reveling in the touch of her skin on his. It was nearly five o’ clock and he’d have to get up soon. As nice and sunny as summer was, he hated having to get up so early to get the sun chariot ready.

He gently stroked the hair away from her face, pressing the lightest kiss against her forehead so as not to disturb her. Sitting up, he rearranged the pillows and blankets to cover her before sliding off the bed. He threw on some clothes, leaving a t-shirt for his wife when she woke up before disappearing to the moors of England. Humans thought the sun was always going around the world in a circle but for the west, the sun began in England because that’s where the dividing line fell between the east and the west.

Setting up the sun chariot to do it’s course, Apollo set it off, watching it crest up in the sky like every day. Before he could turn to leave he sensed a new presence behind him. Turning, he found a very smug looking Ares. Trying to play it cool, Apollo smiled. “What are you doing here, brother?”

“I heard about a missing camper,” Ares began. “And then Aphrodite told me about a certain marriage certificate. Filed both on Earth and Mount Olympus.” Apollo cursed internally, that wasn’t supposed to be sent to Olympus for another week. The one time bureaucracy was efficient.

“Ares…” he began, intending to work out some sort of deal but the god of war interrupted him.

“I don’t know where you’re keeping her but until she’s immortal, she’s fair game to kill.”

“You really wanna piss off Demeter like that?” Apollo challenged, hoping her mother could provide her a little protection if he couldn’t.

Ares shrugged. “She has plenty of other children. And it’s not like I’m killing Persephone.” Demeter’s first daughter truly was the apple of her eye. She loved her demigod children but she’d get over their deaths. “Should’ve thought about this before you decided to put an arrow through me in 1918,” Ares sneered.

“That was like a hundred years ago!” Apollo insisted. “Don’t put her in the middle of this. She didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Should’ve thought about the consequences of your actions before you fell in love with a demigod,” the god of war taunted before disappearing in a flash of light.

The sun god let out an enraged grunt before transporting to his house. He practically ripped open the curtains surround the bed to make sure his bride was still there. He let out the biggest sigh of relief seeing her still laying there, unharmed. But now she was stirring due to the sudden light flooding her eyes.

~

I groaned as the sun hit my eyes and a body came to lay next to me. “I’m sorry,” Apollo said, crawling into his spot next to me. “I really wish you could go back to sleep but you need to be back at camp now,” he said. I could now hear the urgency in his voice as I opened my eyes.

“Why? What happened?” I asked, sitting up.

“Look, I uh- may not have thought this marriage all the way through,” he said nervously, handing me a shirt.

My heart dropped and pain flooded my body. “What?” I asked. I cursed myself, I knew it was too good to be true. I thought that after seeing each other for five years he was being honest about wanting to marry me. But I guess five years to an immortal god is the equivalent to a week for a human.

Apollo turned, finding my hurt expression. “No!” he immediately tried to clear up. “No it’s the fact that you’re in danger now. I don’t regret you. I’m so happy you’re my wife now and that you will be forever. I just didn’t think about the other gods’ reactions.”

“Oh,” I said quietly, relief washing over me.

“I could never regret you,” he said, coming over to sit beside me. “I love you. So much,” he swore, pressing me into his chest.

“Is this about Ares?” I asked. He suddenly froze. “I overheard you and Hermes downstairs,” I explained.

“Yes, but I swear to you nothing’s gonna happen to you. You just have to stay at camp. Ares won’t harm you if you’re in Dionysus’ territory,” he said urgently. If his grave tone was any indication, I was in serious danger. “I’m gonna talk to Zeus. We’re already married and I consulted the Fates when I met you so he’ll probably approve your immortality,” he rushed out, handing me shorts to throw on.

I was at a complete loss of what to say so I said the only thing I could think of. “Okay, I trust you.”

He smiled, lightly grasping either side of my jaw. “We have to go. I’m gonna transport with you just outside of camp. The other campers won’t be able to see me but you’re gonna say you snuck out to visit your dad because you were… I don’t know… having a hard time being the only adult at camp?” he suggested.

I nodded, grasping his hand. Immediately we were standing on the side of a familiar rural road. I looked up at the hill in front of me, just over it was Camp Half-Blood. Turning, I found nothing next to me but Apollo’s hand still intertwined in mine was proof he was still there.

He untangled his fingers from mine and gave me a gentle push on my back to encourage me to walk. I did so hesitantly, slowly walking up the hill. As I spotted the gates of camp. Stood on either side of the arch, were two campers in full battle armor. I could hear an indistinct yell as I approached. Probably alerting Chiron to my reemerged presence.

When I finally reached the “safety” of camp I could sense that Apollo was gone. He had kept a few paces behind me but disappeared once I got past Thalia’s former tree. Meanwhile, there was a new threat currently facing me as both Chiron and Mr. D stared down at me disapprovingly. They so rarely agreed with each other and Mr. D so rarely even bothered to pay attention to us that I knew I was in deep shit. “Y/N,” Chiron said like he was scolding his 16 year old daughter, “come with me.” He turned, trotting away as I followed after him like this was a walk of shame. Dionysus just disappeared.

Once I finally reached the Big House, I spotted Mr. D and a woman in the room. She radiated warmth and life despite the rage coming off of her. “Mother?” I asked.

“How could you!” she immediately yelled. “You were seeing a god behind everyone’s back? Not just any god, Apollo,” she spat angrily. “And then next I hear you’re married to him?” she asked in disbelief. “Y/N, do you know what you’ve gotten yourself into? I’ve already lost one daughter to a god. I won’t lose another one.”

Had I not been speaking to a goddess I would’ve lashed out at her. It’s not like she was ever really there for me. How can you lose someone you’ve never been there for? “You’re not gonna lose me,” I insisted, biting my tongue. “You haven’t lost Persephone either, she’s only in the Underworld for a few months. I will be on Olympus with you.”

“Locked in Apollo’s morally depraved sex mansion,” she spat, clearly upset. My jaw nearly dropped, I was so shocked she actually said that.

“Demeter, as valid as your worries are,” Dionysus reluctantly said, “there is the more pressing matter of Ares trying to murder your daughter. And he’ll keep trying until Zeus grants her immortality.”

“Are those boys still fighting about the arrow in 1918?” Demeter demanded.

“Wait, Ares wants to kill me because Apollo shot him?” I asked.

“Yes, it was an accident but Ares never forgot. Especially because it allowed the Allied powers to win. At the time, Ares was kind of betting on Germany to be the next big thing but then when the Allies all blamed it on Germany, Ares wasn’t happy.” Chiron clarified. “And he wants to destroy Apollo’s happiness in revenge.”

“I don’t want you seeing him,” my mother suddenly demanded, still hyper-focused on the wrong topic. Even Chiron and Mr. D rolled their eyes at that. “He’s a no good playboy.”

“We’re already married. I’m not gonna just stop seeing him. And I knew what I was getting myself into. I made sure he actually wanted a relationship with me before I got attached.”

“Oh please-”

“He married me, didn’t he?” I interrupted.

“Demeter, if it’s any consolation he does seem to genuinely be in love with her,” Chiron defended me. “Apollo has never married in all the millenniums he’s lived. He has finally settled down.”

She looked reluctant to accept his argument but didn’t say anything else.

“S-so what do I do now that Ares wants to kill me?” I asked. “Apollo said that he wouldn’t touch me under your protection,” I looked at Mr. D.

The god of wine still looked reluctant to participate in all this. “Well technically camp belongs to all the gods and I cannot ensure your safety. Besides, Ares has never minded breaking a few rules of war. I’ll have to bring you to a more secure place whilst Apollo tries to convince Zeus.”

Demeter sighed. “I will go help him too but after you are immortalized we are discussing your living arrangement,” she said with a stern finger. Before I could reluctantly agree she was gone.

“Come,” Chiron said with a hand on my back. “You must pack only your essentials. Then Dionysus will take you to the convent you’ll be staying at.”

“Convent?” I asked, stopping in my tracks.

“Well, I am the god of cults,” Mr. D reasoned from behind me. “I have a few of my followers there but enough real nuns to disguise you. You’ll be safe there.”

~

I was only at the convent for two days before I was in danger again.

I had been getting along fairly well with the other nuns. Except for one. Her name was Peggy and she seemed too friendly and was always trying to be alone with me. With this being a place that housed Dionysus’ followers I thought nothing of it until I found myself alone with her.

I had been doing my daily chores of dusting the entire convent when Peggy entered the room I was in. I thought nothing of it until I heard the lock click into place. When I turned I didn’t find the nun, I found a gorgon with a grotesque smile on her face. “Daughter of Demeter, I hadn’t expected to see you here. I heard about your little predicament.” I glanced to the open window across the room. If I could just get outside I could trap the gorgon in nature. “Poor Apollo will be so heartbroken when he realizes his bride is dead before he was even able to give her immortality.”

Grabbing a lamp, I hurled it at the monster while she was still talking. It bounced harmlessly off her, shattering but I was already throwing myself through the window. Jumping through a second story window face first probably wasn’t the best idea but I needed to get her onto the ground. As I hit the ground I felt my wrist crack but I didn’t even have time to consider it because the gorgon was bursting through the window after me. She barely missed jumping on top of me but I rolled out of her path. As she was still regaining her bearings I willed the roots of the earth to wrap around her.

Thousands of roots sprung up from the ground tangling each other and the gorgon until they secured her. Any monster worth their myth could cut through my vines but they would come so fast that the monster couldn’t keep up until they were immobilized by the earth. Once the gorgon stopped moving and had just become an unrecognizable mass of weeds, I willed them to pull her into the ground. I’m sure it was a horrific way to die, having every nutrient in your body sucked out of you from underground until you could only become a pile of ichor that would remain in the earth forever.

As soon as I sensed that her life force was gone, I allowed some vines to wrap around my wrist, using the resources of the earth to heal my broken bones. As I let out a sigh of relief at the pain subsiding, I saw a faint flash of light. Now standing a hundred feet away from me were twin brothers, each standing around six feet tall, in full Greek battle armor. I knew enough about mythology and the context of my situation to know that these were Phobos and Deimos. If they weren’t standing between me and the convent I’d try to run there for safety.

“I’m so glad that gorgon was here,” Phobos said. “If it weren’t for you using your powers we never would have found you.”

Σκατά. Well, I just took down a gorgon, I could imprison these two. I let the earth crawl up their shins but they both just looked at each other with smiles before bursting into flames. Their explosion was so violent it threw me back a few feet.

I let out a groan as pain exploded in my body. Peeling open my eyes, I found the earth underneath their feet scorched and they were laughing. I tried to grow vines around myself to pull me into the earth as protection but a blade was suddenly cutting through them and I was being pulled up by my guimpe. Curse these stupid nun outfits.

“Wait, wait, please,” I begged.

“Too bad for you we don’t get to kill you,” Deimos taunted in my face, still holding me by the guimpe. “Ares is gonna torture you to death and send the footage to your husband.”

I did the only thing I could think of. I spat in his face.

“Ew!” he yelled, dropping me to the ground. I wasted no time tearing off into the woods, barely paying attention to Phobos berating his twin.

I continued on, tearing through the woods to get far enough. Seeing a flash of light, I turned the other way, trying to escape Phobos and Deimos long enough so I could hide. “Y/N!” I heard a familiar yell but I didn’t bother to stop. For all I knew, that was one of the twins playing tricks on me.

As I tried to jump over a branch my skirt got caught, sending me to the ground with a crash. Again, curse these nun outfits. Before I could get up though, there was a weight on me. I immediately began screaming and thrashing, assuming it was either Phobos or Deimos but two hands on my face made me look straight ahead. I calmed down realizing it was Apollo currently sitting on top of me.

“Hey, hey, you’re safe,” he assured me. “It’s just me.” As I started calming down, he pulled the veil off my head. “There we go,” he soothed, pulling me up from the ground. As he was still trying to calm me down, Phobos and Deimos appeared behind him. He whirled around, pushing my body behind his. “Zeus granted her immortality. She is under his protection!”

“What we don’t know can’t be held against us,” Phobos laughed.

But before he could do anything, I found myself in a new place. Olympus, I recognized it. Staring up in awe at all the thrones and the magnificent room made of marble. Eleven gods sat around me, including Ares. A completely golden throne that seemed to shimmer was empty.

I looked around, ensuring my head was bowed to all the gods—especially Ares—I finally reached Zeus, falling to my knee.

“Y/N L/N,” Zeus’ booming voice seemed to echo across the room. “You have been granted immortality by the virtue of your husband, Apollo. With the approval of myself and the fates. I hereby grant you goddess status: Y/N, goddess of healing, daughter of Demeter, and wife of Apollo.”

I don’t know what I was expecting but it was as if an unknown burden I didn’t know I had was lifted.

I stood, unsure what to do but all of a sudden a force was hitting me. As Apollo wrapped his arms around me I knew he had been what knocked into me. “My wife’s a goddess!” he yelled, still hugging me, much to the amusement of the other Olympians.

~

A/N I'm gonna be so fucking fr I had no plot going into this I just wanted to write about Apollo so if anyone has any suggestions or requests of a part 2 that ends this better I'm happy to write them

Masterlist | Part 2

[rookinthecrownest]

Bedtime Stories for a Demon, Night 1: The Sleeping Princess (Lucanis x Rook Fanfic)

“Lucanis?”

Some assassin, he thinks bitterly, as Rook’s soft voice breaks him out of his reverie. She finds him sitting at the dining room table, staring at the fire with a cup of now cold coffee in his hands. He didn’t hear her come in.

Caterina would’ve given him at least ten lashes with her cane for letting someone sneak up on him like that.

His mind, lately, was a restless sea. Waves of him and Spite crash over each other, fighting to rise above the din. Fighting for control. And like the moon pushes and pulls the tides at night, Spite’s influence becomes harder to ignore in the waning hours of the evening. Sometimes it was hard to pay attention to anything but Spite rattling the bars of the prison that was Lucanis’ mind.

On most nights he finds himself alone in the pantry, or the dining room, with only a flickering fire and the demon in his head for company. Until a few moments ago that is.

“Rook” he manages a pleasant, tired smile while turning towards her. “You’re up late”

She shrugs and pulls up a chair beside him, now rimmed in the warm orange glow of the fire. “Thought you might want some company – you know, after the whole…” she gestures vaguely in his direction, and he doesn’t need any further elaboration.

He remembers feeling tired, so tired after their last mission. A bone-weariness that only came with the kind of world-ending threats they were becoming entirely too accustomed to handling. Three cups of his strongest brew hadn’t been enough to curb the knife’s edge of sleep deprivation. He remembers sitting upright in his cot and closing his eyes for just a moment.  Then, he was in the basement hallway with the Vir’Evas Eluvian, surrounded by Harding, Rook - and the terrible realization that Spite had taken him for a walk.

Perhaps it was his brutal training at the hands of his grandmother, perhaps it was his own stubbornness, but he hated to make them worry. Especially Rook, who already carried the weight of the world on her small shoulders and the voice of an Elven god in her head. Dealing with a sleepwalking abomination was probably the last thing she needed to be worried about.

“I’m fine” he lies, and stares down at his coffee. His grip on the handle of his mug tightens. Rook’s bright green eyes flicker down to his hands, and he knows she doesn’t believe his words any more than he does. “As I said before – Spite is my burden to bear. Please, go get some sleep, Rook”

Her face falls just a little at that.

“Would if I could” she starts, “You won’t sleep, I can’t sleep – I figure we might as well be night owls together. But if I’m bothering you, I’ll go”

He doesn’t know her well enough yet to catch if she is lying about not being able to sleep – but he imagines she has plenty of her own worries big enough to keep her up at night.

When he doesn’t answer, Rook moves to get out of her chair.

Lucanis quickly waves her back down into her seat.

“No, no, no bother at all” He raises his cup to her in a cheer, “I’ll be glad for the company”

He swirls the cold coffee in his cup, before looking back up at Rook.

“Coffee? I’m going to make a fresh pot” he asks, rising from his place. Rook gives an appreciative nod, the corners of her eyes crinkling with another smile.

“I’d love some, thanks”

Rook is silent until his return from the kitchen, with a cup of freshly made coffee – real coffee, in each hand. None of that instant boiled bean water that Neve had a habit of making.

As he hands her the cup, he notices something in her lap that wasn’t there before. A small journal. Its bindings were tattered and frayed, the colour had faded from what he presumed was a bright crimson to a more muted shade of red, and the pages were yellowed with time.

“What is that?” he asks, taking his place in front of the fire once more.

Rook sets the steaming cup of coffee aside on the table, so she can begin flipping through its worn pages. A musty, acrid smell like old mothballs hangs in the air, and for a brief moment, he’s a boy in the Dellamorte estate’s library running wild between tall, marble bookshelves seeking mischief and knowledge in equal measure.

“My father’s old journal” Rook thumbs through the pages more carefully now, and her voice grows soft.

“He was a Bard in his youth. Toured all over Thedas with his troupe. As he went, he wrote down stories from across the continent” She leans her chin against her hand and smiles fondly at the little book in her hand. “Never imagined he’d be collecting bedtime stories for a future daughter”

There was a softness in her voice that he was not accustomed to hearing, tinged with the barest echo of grief. This is the first time in the few weeks they had known each other that Rook mentioned any kind of family. He notes her use of past tense and decides not to pry, much as he finds himself growing ever curious about his new companion.

Companions.

Rook looks down at the book again before meeting his eyes. They were almost pleading.

“I thought... maybe you’d like to hear one. You know, to help pass the time?”

He thinks of refusing, of telling her she needs to rest, that there is little sense in them both being sleep deprived because of Spite. There is something in her eyes that stops him from turning her down. An emotion he cannot quite name but feels akin to longing. Not quite sadness, not quite nostalgia – somewhere in between.

He quickly comes to the realization that this may be as much for her, as it is for him. Lucanis remembers the comfort that reading old stories brought him. He can picture, in striking detail, the book on Wyvern physiology he stole from the Dellamorte library as a child. He knows the contents of each page by heart, because he can still hear Illario's grumbling about wanting him to shut up about Wyverns echoing through his distant memories. He would read it by candlelight until late in the evening, ready to extinguish the flame and hide the book under his pillow at a moment’s notice if Caterina came by.

He decides that if he can help her by simply listening to a story, he will. Rook spends most of her free time trying to fix everyone else’s problems. Always flitting to and from each room in the Lighthouse like a hummingbird, fretting over the team. The Crows were already indebted to her efforts against the Antaam, and she made it a point to help him with both Spite and tracking down Zara. With all that in consideration, he feels it would be a rather poor show to refuse. That and another feeling he didn’t have a name for, keeps him from rejecting her company tonight.

“Alright” He sighs and takes a sip of his coffee before leaning back in his chair. “Let’s hear it”

Lucanis ignores the skipped beat in his chest as she beams widely.

She claps her hands together and straightens in her chair. “Wonderful!”

“So, what tale will you tell tonight?”

“Have you ever heard the old Tevene story about the Sleeping Princess?” she asks excitedly, crossing her legs in her chair like an impatient child about to be served dessert. She’s practically oscillating with excitement in her seat.

Lucanis smiles at that.

“No, I can’t say I have”

“It’s one of my favourites” she gushes, picking up the journal again and flipping to the correct page. Ringlets of rich brown hair sweep over her shoulder as she does so, and he decides to focus on his coffee instead, before he’s caught staring.

“Aha” her brow furrows as she quickly scans the contents of the journal. “Alright, here we go”

Rook sets the journal aside once more and takes a quick sip of her coffee. He doesn’t miss the way she savours the brew. He knew she enjoyed coffee from their meeting at Café Pietra with Illario, but it was nice to know she appreciated his coffee as much as theirs.

He raises an eyebrow when Rook starts cracking her knuckles – and her neck, then readies her hands in the same pose he’s seen her use for magic.

“What are you doing?”

“You’ll see” she grins conspiratorially.

“If you’re about to throw a fireball at me – “

“Relax, relax” Rook shakes her head, and whispers “Magic has more uses than fighting”

He can feel Spite stirring in the dark recess of his mind and does his best to ignore it.

Rook’s delicate hands begin glowing with blue light, and to his astonishment, a moment later she conjures a fully realized image of a castle, floating in the space between them. He can see the spires, turrets, and even the wrought-iron gates in clear, astonishing detail. Lucanis leans forward to inspect the castle as it rotates in mid-air, giving him views of every side. Even the masonry and statues have an immaculate degree of realism. It was almost as if she had taken a real castle and shrunk it down.

“How …?” He is not usually one to be rendered speechless, but it was not every day he is exposed to new types of magic - and when he was, historically, that hasn't always been a good thing for him. Spite rumbling under his skin reminds him of that.

“I learned to do it back in my Circle days. It was my thesis work – the use of the Fade to create projections of objects from one’s minds” her pride in her castle falls when she continues to explain, “The senior enchanters thought it a waste of effort and I barely passed my final year – they couldn’t see a use for it past getting their children to sleep. I suppose if magic can’t be used to some terrible, destructive end, it gets relegated to a novice’s thesis statement to be buried in the Circle’s archives and never touched again”

“It’s incredible Rook” he breathes. The words leave his mouth before he can stop them. He’s not sure if it’s the warmth of the fire, or something else, but he swears a faint tinge of red creeps from her neck up to her ears.

He desperately wants to reach out and touch the castle, but keeps his hands firmly on his coffee cup, worried he may ruin her concentration.

Rook’s eyes crinkle with her smile, wide and genuine. He’s never seen her smile like that, and it feels utterly disarming.

He brings his coffee cup to his lips again, about to take a sip.

“Thank you, Lucanis” Her voice is sweeter than the coffee on his lips.

“You’re welcome” is all he manages to choke out, leaning away from the castle to give himself some distance to regain control of his faculties.

Rook clears her throat, “I ahh, guess I should get on with the story, hmm?”

Lucanis nods and takes another sip of coffee, feeling the warmth spread through him but he is not entirely certain it’s from the coffee alone.

“I would say you’re burning moonlight, but given where we are …”

He smiles when Rook chuckles at his terrible attempt at humour, and he appreciates it even if it is forced on her end, but it feels genuine enough. Everything about Rook was genuine.

Her focus returns to the castle in front of them.

“Once upon a time, in a land far away, there was a small kingdom”

She waves her hands in a fluid motion and the solitary castle morphs into a bird’s eye view of that same castle perched on top of a hill, overlooking a small village.

“And in that kingdom, there lived a King and a Queen, much beloved by their people.”

The castle and village disappear. They are now replaced with two figures sitting on matching thrones upon a simple dais. In the thrones sit a man and a woman, each with a crown decorating their foreheads.

“The King and Queen longed desperately for a child of their own and had tried for many years to make it so. ‘Would that we had a child!’, the King cried, and yet, their child remained a dream.”

As she said those words, the mouth of the king moved in tandem.

He can’t imagine the amount of concentration it must be taking to accomplish telling a story, maintaining an illusion, and making an illusion talk. He continues to sit there in awe, with only his training keeping his jaw from hanging on the floor.

The corner of her lips pull down into a slight frown.

“The Queen would not accept the words of her physician, who told her bearing a child was not possible for her, for there was a sickness in her womb that would prevent it”

The image morphed into the Queen hunched over on the floor, on all fours, sobbing. It looks so real he is convinced he could hear her agonized cries.

Now, the Queen has traded her crown for a traveller's cloak. She floats aimlessly in the air between them, the cloak billowing on an invisible wind.

“The Queen, unbeknownst to the King, set off to seek the knowledge of a Spirit from the Fade. When she eventually finds one,” Rook pauses and waves her left hand to bring forth the image of an amorphous spirit in front of the Queen. “She wastes no time asking the Spirit if it could help her conceive a child”

The spirit continues to float above the figure of the queen, who is now on her knees looking up at it, hands clasped as if in prayer.

“The Spirit asks if she is prepared to do anything to have a child. The Queen fervently answers that she would give up anything – do anything for an heir.” The figure of the Queen bows down to the Spirit in deference. “Satisfied, the Spirit gives her knowledge of a ritual that could provide her with a child. It would take several mages and the sacrifice of an innocent, but that was the only way to cure the sickness from her womb and carry a child. ‘Do this, and your child will grow in grace and beauty. Hair spun in gold, lips as red as the rose. She will walk with spring time wherever she goes. Her song will put nightingales and larks to shame’”

Blood magic. Figures this story comes from Tevinter.

“But be warned” The Spirit holds up a hand, “Should the Princess ever prick her finger on the spindle of a spinning wheel and draw blood, she will die”

The figure of the Queen hurriedly nods, before disappearing into nothing.

“The Queen quickly returns to the kingdom and enlists the help of her council of Magi”

The figure of the Queen returns to its original appearance. She is now surrounded by seven cloaked figures, each carrying a stave in their hands. The form of a young woman is chained, on her knees, in the middle of them all.

“They had their sacrifice, and the knowledge on how to perform the ritual” Her voice is quiet, almost strained.

The figures appear to be chanting now. The faint blue glow of the form of the young woman slowly turns red, with some concentration on Rook’s part. A moment later, the form is swallowed by red light and disappears. Veins of red climb like vines and weave their way into the figure of the Queen, settling on her stomach, before fading from sight.

Rook’s frown deepens and her brows draw closely together. The figures of the King and Queen morph into an embrace. And quickly after, they are sitting on their thrones, side-by-side, with the Queen’s belly swollen with child.

“The King had no idea about the ritual. He was ecstatic, of course, at the prospect of finally having a child” Rook said. “And so he didn’t question it when the Queen asked that every spinning wheel in the kingdom be burned to ensure her safety”

The pair disappear, and now, a large pile of spinning wheels, burning with blue flames, takes their place.

It disappears soon after, and the image of a baby is conjured in its place. She is sleeping soundly in an intricately carved wooden cot.

“The Princess, who they called Rosaea, was perfect. And just as the Spirit had said, she would indeed grow in grace and beauty” The form of the baby changes to that of a young woman, with long, flowing hair and a beautiful face. “She was loved by all her people, for she had a kind heart. She lived happily with her parents and was adorned of gifts from her people, the nobility, and suitors alike. But things would not stay that way for long.”

The image of the princess disappears. The scene shifts to the King, Queen, and the Princess together at the gates of the Kingdom.

“Urgent business with another Kingdom called the King and Queen away, and so the Princess was left to wander the castle by herself”

Rook waves a hand and the Princess walks alone, before coming to the form of an old woman hunched over a spinning wheel.

The princesses mouth moves in tandem with Rook’s words.

“You there, madam” The princess says, pointing to the wheel. “What is it that you are doing?’ She asks, for she had never seen a spinning wheel before”

The figure of the old woman turns towards the princess and beckons her closer, “I am spinning, dear girl’, it answers” The figure of the princess moves closer to the spinning wheel. She leans over it, and asks, “What is that thing that twists around so briskly?”

No sooner had she said the words and taken the spindle into her hand, there is a flash of red light, and the figure of the princess is on the floor. Not dead, but sleeping, for he can see the rise and fall of her chest.

The old woman first morphs into the spirit from before, the one that spoke with the Queen, and then it changes again into a twisted creature - all horns, claws, and jagged edges. One he was all too familiar with. A demon.

“The Spirit the Queen had spoken with was no Spirit at all, it was a Terror demon in disguise.” Rook explains, waving her hand through the illusion of the girl and the demon towering over her, erasing it from existence.

It is at this moment that Lucanis realizes he’s forgotten to breathe. He draws a deep breath, and leans forward, resting his forearms on his legs. His coffee sits abandoned on the table, as does Rook’s. Spite is practically vibrating behind his eyes.

“Well, go on” he gestures at her.

Rook grins, evidently satisfied with her work. “Impatient, are we?”

Lucanis smirks, “Spite wants to know how it ends”

“And you’re not the least bit curious?” She crosses her arms in front of her chest, looking at him doubtfully.

He distracts himself with a sip of coffee, miraculously still somewhat warm. “I might be”

Rook chuckles and shakes her head, mirroring him by bringing her own coffee to her lips. She licks her lips and sighs, and he tries to look anywhere but her mouth. For a moment, he finds himself preoccupied with his own shoes.

“Sorry, I was feeling a bit parched there. On with the story” She rings out her hands and brings them back into position. That familiar blue glow envelops them again. He feels its safe to meet her gaze again.

“The Terror Demon’s ritual didn’t just affect the Princess, it affected the whole Kingdom. One by one, everyone fell into a deep slumber, just like the princess”

He watches intently as the castle courtyard morphs into view between them. Figures of soldiers and servants alike start falling asleep in place, dropping like wilting flowers. The courtyard disappears and returns to another view of the entire kingdom. Large, twisted brambles begin enveloping it,He eererere forming an impenetrable wall of thorns encasing everything in sight.

“The King and Queen returned to find their Kingdom gone. They tried rallying support from other kingdoms, but none could breach the Demon’s brambles”

Figures of soldiers and magi alike lobbing magic and arrows and spears at the wall sprang to life. Each volley as useless as the last. She pauses as the image fades, and nothing takes its place.

“And?” Lucanis asks leaning onto his forearms even more.

“And I’m getting there” Rook laughs, flourishing her fingers like she’s conducting an invisible orchestra.

“The Demon’s spell kept the kingdom in a state of eternal slumber. It fed on their fears and nightmares in the Fade while they slept. On the outside, a hundred years had passed, and the King and Queen were long dead. But everyone inside the Kingdom still remained as they were when they were put to sleep”

Two elaborate tombs flickered to life, before fading a moment later.

“Another hundred years passes before a wandering adventurer, pure of heart and mind, and possessing the soul of a true hero, would come to the ruins of the Kingdom, still surrounded by the wall of thorns”

She conjures the image of a handsome-faced young man, in simple chain mail, riding atop a horse.

“But this adventurer was special, you see” Rook whispered and leaned in closer.

Smells like lavender and rosewater, Spite chimes.

“For he had a Spirit of Valor on his side. And the Spirit would see the Terror Demon banished back to the Fade forever”

The figure draws his sword, glowing a bright golden yellow, and pierces the wall of thorns with ease. He continues to cut through the wall and makes his way to the castle.

“There was a great battle between the Demon and the Hero, but the Hero prevails with the help of the Spirit of Valor”

The demon is pierced by the golden sword, and cries out a soundless scream, before disappearing. Now, the entire view of the kingdom is back. The brambles recede like a tide, and one by one, little figures of soldiers and servants begin waking up.

Curiously, when the image fades back to the figure of the princess, she still lies sleeping.

“Why didn’t the princess wake up?” Lucanis asks, his brows drawing together in confusion.

“The Nightmare Demon’s hold on the Princess is stronger than any of the other inhabitants of the Kingdom” Rook explains, shifting in her seat. "It was banished back to the Fade, but not defeated in its entirety. Terror is one of the strongest emotions there is, after all"

The princess and the hero fade from view, and this time, nothing takes their place.

“There has to be more than that” He throws his hands up and shakes his head, before taking another sip of coffee. He nearly spits it out. It’s gone cold. Again. Yet for all his love of caffeinated beverages, the thought of getting up to make another cup doesn’t even cross his mind.

She laughs again, her green eyes twinkling with mirth, “I’m getting there.” She repeats.

“You’re doing this on purpose” He points to her, frowning.

“I have to build suspense somehow!”

Rook raises her hands again, and the figures of the princess and the hero return to view.

“The Hero couldn’t help but be struck by the Princesses’ beauty. He could do nothing else but admire her sleeping form. And he was overcome with the desire to kiss her, for he knew it was love at first sight. He had no way of knowing if it would work – maybe it was his own heart, or maybe it was the Spirit of Valor whispering in his ear, but needed to know if a kiss could wake her from her slumber”

The figure of the prince moves closer to the princess, and hunches over her sleeping form. It leans in and presses a gentle, chaste kiss to her lips.

Both the princess and the hero were soon engulfed in a warm, golden glow. The figure of the princess wakes, and the hero takes her into his arms.

“The princess wakes to find herself in the arms of her rescuer. She and the Hero fall in love. They re-establish the kingdom and ruled together as King and Queen, living happily ever after”

And with a final flick of her wrist, the embracing figures vanish into the ether.

“The End” She says, with a satisfied smirk and a small bow at the waists.

Lucanis leans back in his seat, unable to stop himself from smiling. “That’s it? Everything is fixed with a kiss?”

Rook shrugs innocently, “Aren’t most things?”

He has no time to process that, or the way she’s looking at him while she says it.

“Besides, it wasn’t just a kiss. It was true love’s kiss. Love can be a powerful form of magic in its own right. Just as powerful as Terror - if not more so”

Lucanis frowns. He wishes he could believe that.

“In stories, perhaps” he mutters, swirling the cold coffee around in its cup.

Rook yawns and runs a hand through her wild curls.

“Perhaps” She stands and takes the journal in her hands. She offers him another sweet smile before turning to leave, “Never hurts to believe, though”

As she makes for the dining hall door, Lucanis stands from his chair.

“Rook?” He calls out after her.

She stops and turns, “Yeah?”

“Thank you … for this” he gestures to the fireplace. “For tonight.”

Rook nods, “You’re welcome. I’m glad you liked my story”

“Would you come again tomorrow night?” He asks, entirely too quickly. Convinced he sounds like a lovesick puppy, he wants to kick himself in the shin. Thankfully, he has Spite to do that to his head.

Rooks brows lift in surprise, like she wasn’t expecting him to ask. They quickly settle into a kind expression, one he finds he wants to burn into his memory until its all he can see.

“Yeah, of course” She gives him a small wave, “I’ll see you tomorrow night”

Lucanis returns the wave and returns to the kitchen to brew a fresh pot of coffee.

Meanwhile, Rook leaves the dining hall barely able to keep herself upright.

Being inside the Fade made it much easier for her to draw on her magic, but she’s never used that level of detail and sustained it for so long to tell a story.

Sleep would come easier that night for her from the mana depletion alone.

But Lucanis would stay awake replaying her story in his head over and over again. He would think of how the warm glow of the fireplace cast streaks of orange and gold into her wild curls. How her eyes practically sparkle and the softness of her voice when she tells a story.

But in all the loops of Rook and her story that play in his mind, it escapes his notice that a possessed man is the hero of her tale.

[firstelevens]

⚔️ for the sambucky prompts, if you'd like?

great news for anyone who said they wanted more of this fic because [meme voice] somehow the mr. and mr. smith/spy x family AU returned

⚔️ Hidden Weapons

In the three hours since their meeting with Fury, Sam has rehearsed his next conversation with Bucky at least a hundred times. It would be easier, maybe, if they were in the apartment that they've shared for the past four years, but the mission hadn’t allowed for that.

Instead, Sam has spent the past week setting up in an off-the-books safehouse of Natasha’s, close enough to HQ for backup to get there fast but tucked far enough into the woods that surveillance should have a tough time finding them. He’d almost turned down the mission entirely when Fury brought it up: asset development might have been Sam’s specialty, but he couldn’t very well just show up at home with a baby.

He’d refused to be persuaded for almost two weeks, and then Fury had stopped by his desk first thing on a Monday morning and dropped a file on his desk, heavy enough to rattle the drawers. Sam had opened it to find a picture of his husband, only the man that he’d married wasn’t even forty yet, and the picture in the file was from 1957.

It had been a…stressful day, to say the least, and Sam’s only comfort was that Bucky wasn’t in town at the moment. The contents of that file had weighed on him for days. He was sure he couldn’t have looked at Bucky with all that in his head and not immediately pulled him into his arms to make it clear how proud Sam was of him and how loved he was.

It figures that instead of that conversation, Sam gets to have the ‘so we’re both spies who married each other for a cover and only found out by accident’ conversation. Sam’s only comfort is that at least the baby—Jack—is already tucked up in his bassinet, fast asleep. Baby Cass used to be a barometer for stress in any given room, and after how much Sam struggled to put Jack down earlier, he doesn’t want an inevitably tense conversation to make this any harder on such a little kid.

If it weren’t almost eleven at night, Sam would be brewing a pot of coffee. It’s not like he needs any more nervous energy, but it’s the traditional peace offering after he and Bucky disagree over something. Sometimes, it takes a while for either of them to put their actual feelings into words, but neither one of them was ever comfortable with letting anger hang in the air, so it became their shorthand once tempers cooled and space did its thing: a text or a note or a knock on the door, and an offer of a cup of coffee. There wasn’t a more comforting question in the English language, as far as Sam was concerned. For most of his life, it had just been a word, and now a soft, “Coffee?” meant a hundred things, from ‘I’m sorry’ to ‘you’re not alone.’

Maybe it was silly, given that they were both spies, but Sam couldn’t help but feel like that, at least, had been real.

One of the security cameras flashes a warning to the screen that Sam has propped up against the backsplash, and he peers at the feed to see Yelena turning onto the driveway and pulling up to the house. Bucky gets out of the car, then goes around back to grab a duffel and another case—it looks strangely like a large musical instrument until Sam remembers that Bucky probably carries weapons the way Sam does—, and just before she leaves, Yelena hops out of the car and holds a white box out to Bucky.

He tries to wave it away, but she forces it into his hands and then hopes back into her car, peeling out of the driveway with a screech of her tires. Sam watches for a moment longer as Bucky stares down at the box, his shoulders slumping, and then makes for the front door.

Sam pulls it open so that Bucky doesn’t have to juggle the box while searching for the right set of keys. He gets a tight, “Thanks,” in response, then closes the door as Bucky steps into the house, his entire body going tense as he takes in the space.

It’s excruciating, waiting him out, but Sam manages it. After several long moments of silence, Bucky looks around one last time and says, “There’s a baby swing.”

“Yeah,” says Sam, because he can’t think to say anything else.

“You said it took you two days to build Cass’s swing, and there’s a baby swing here, in Nat’s safehouse.”

“What’s your point?”

“My point is that you knew about this long enough to buy and build a baby swing,” says Bucky, dropping the white box onto the kitchen island and moving further into the house without a second glance.

Sam watches him move through the space. The duffel gets set out of the way, by the stairs, but the weapons case is left beside the couch. He opens a few doors—hall bath, laundry room, basement—before he finds the coat closet, shrugging out of his leather jacket and hanging it up before stepping out of his boots and setting them on the shoe rack. He seems to hesitate for a moment, his hand on the closet door, before he shakes his head a little and reaches for his ankle.

At first, Sam thinks he’s taking off his socks, but then he watches as Bucky removes not one, not two, but three knives from a holster at his ankle. He sets all three on the credenza in the hallway, then reaches for his other pant leg and emerges with what Sam thinks might be a collapsible nightstick.

Another knife appears from somewhere literally up Bucky’s left sleeve, and when he reaches back to pull off his sweater, Sam assumes that he’s done.

Sam is very wrong: the cozy blue sweater was slouchy enough to cover up the shoulder holster that Bucky had on underneath, and if Sam trips over his own feet at the sight of it against Bucky’s very tight undershirt, that’s because he’s not used to the floors of this house yet. There’s a handgun braced against each of Bucky’s sides and a small pistol on his back. Absolutely nothing about the way that Bucky moved through this house indicated that he was carrying a small armory with him, but there it is, laid out on Nat’s Art Deco themed hallway table.

(He thinks about all the nights that Bucky came through the door and Sam coaxed him into hanging out on the couch with him and Alpine. Sometimes he wouldn’t even bother changing, just kicked off his shoes and hung up his jacket and slumped onto the cushions with the cat between them. Just how many times did Bucky watch The Great British Bake Off with his knee pressed against Sam’s and a dozen knives hidden on his person? And why is the thought of that making Sam feel very warm?)

It’s a close call, but Sam manages to tear his gaze away from Bucky a half second before he turns around, leaving his weapons—and, to Sam’s dismay, the shoulder holster��on the table.

“Where’s the baby?” he asks. Sam recognizes that voice even if he’s never heard it from his husband before. That’s not Bucky; it’s Agent Barnes, and Sam hates the difference.

“Jack’s upstairs; he fell asleep about an hour ago,” says Sam, trying his hardest not to put on his own agent voice. “I, uh- I put his crib in the room that I’ll be sleeping in. I thought it might be easier.”

Bucky’s face softens just a fraction. Sam doesn’t need to say that he knows how Bucky struggles to sleep through the night. They’ve had plenty of 2 AM cups of tea over the years, and it’s hard to imagine that he’d been faking there, too.

“I’ll go put my stuff upstairs, try to get some rest,” says Bucky, his voice a little rough. “We can come up with a schedule in the morning.”

“You’re not hungry?” asks Sam. “There’s food if you-”

“I’m fine,” says Bucky, his eyes flicking over to the box on the counter for the briefest moment. “Grabbed something with Yelena on the way.”

“Oh,” says Sam. He almost says that he made Bucky’s favorite, but then it occurs to him that Bucky’s supposed love of Sam’s cooking might have been part of the cover, too. He’d made such a big deal out of being a clueless cook, but now that Sam thinks about it, making an asset think that you’re relying on them is a textbook way to foster trust and cooperation. He swallows the hurt that tries to rear up and reminds himself that he was lying to Bucky, too. “I’ll, uh- I’ll put the leftovers in the fridge if you want some later.”

“Thanks,” is the response that Sam gets, and somehow that’s worse than anything else. Three weeks ago, if Sam had made extra of Bucky’s favorite food for dinner and stashed it for later, he’d have been hailed as husband of the year and teased for not knowing how to cook for fewer than a dozen people.

Bucky makes his way up the stairs, duffel in hand, and Sam finally manages to unglue himself from the floor and crosses into the kitchen to put away the food. He reaches for the white box, assuming that it’s leftovers from wherever Bucky and Yelena ate, but he’s surprised to see the logo of his not-so-secret favorite bakery in the city.

The box is heavy when Sam pulls it towards him, and with a glance back at the stairs—he hears the shower turn on and decides belatedly that he doesn’t care if Bucky sees him, anyway—he slices the tape that’s holding the box closed.

Inside is a cake, but not just any cake. It’s a raspberry mousse cake, Sam’s very favorite, and there’s a little white chocolate disc on top with just one thing piped on it. 

‘Coffee?’

[britt-kageryuu]

The stream starts with Raph sitting on a big beanbag chair in what looks like his train car, with some modifications. His model is wearing sblack/red shirts, wrist wraps, his mask, and teddy bear slippers.

"Hey guys, I got a new game that Mandarin told me about. Little Kitty Big City. It looks very cute. You get to play as a cute kitty, and I can't wait." As he talks his tail is wagging up a storm.

He starts from the Home Screen, and selects the game, and selects Save Slot 1.

"Oh! Is that the Kitty we play as listen to those purrs. Oh, Streeeech. Woah! They FELL!" Raph watches the cutscene, and then to actual control of the cat. "So we're trying to get home, but we're also gonna explore. Oh an inventory... are those hats? We get to put hats on the Kitty! Oh Cat-chievments. Sounds like Blues kind of pun. Okay how do I control this cat."

A good minute of messing with the controls and Raph starts wandering around. "Okay avoid the water. The jump is still weird though. I probably have to find some food, or something first."

"Oh, so it's just B, but holding it gets you ready to pounce. Swipe... knock over the pots~ Oh shiny spot! Jump! Shoot missed."

The stream watches as Raph wanders around, trying to get to Shiny spots, and figure out where to go. While saying 'jump', 'pounce' 'smack' and 'oh I can pick this up!' "Oh Zoomies!"

Raph had to pause real quick, "Okay, so I need to collect this stuff to give to the Tanuki, and Raven, to give me what I need to finish the game. At least it's not very hard."

A couple minutes later and he's struggling to catch a bird to get the feathers, so he switches to looking for cans to get shinies.

Though the audience is very entertained by the expressions on Raphs model, and how his tail is basically a blur right now, because he keeps finding the animations very adorable.

He eventually figured out how to catch the birds, but it was still tricky without bread.

"I got the feathers, now to find the Tanuki."

"He opened a portal thingy? Oh boy. I'm in the trash can ain't I?... Yup, and I didn't give the crow the shinies yet either." Raph lets out a sigh, "Well, I knew there would be more explorin to do, so let's figure out what to do next."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Raph finally got back to the crow, and got his first fish, and climbed the wall.

"So now I gotta find some ducklings, well at least this map also tells me were to find more fish."

"This crow is telling me it's not selling hats, just that it'll spin the Gotcha to give me random hats... I now get why I need to get lots of shinies..."

+A few minutes later+

"So helping that 'Mayor' cat only got me a emote, but I guess I have to go through that door to find the last duckling. According to the map he's here." Then he get through the door.

....."I have to climb this! To find the last duck!"

"That wasn't the last duckling? Well at least it's close to where the Dad is, and not like near the beginning of the game."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Raph wasn't sure what to feel at the moment. "A beetle, runs a famous cats social media, and I have to steal a new phone for it... Red feels very confused by this game. Wait how do I steal a phone again?"

After reading chat for the first time for a reminder (he didn't want spoilers). "I have to trip one of the humans holding a phone. Gotcha! How do I trip them? Run into their legs? That's kinda mean. But then again I'm playing as a cat."

"And my reward is a an in game camera. Not what I expected, but okay. Next thing, let's just get some of these Cat-chievements done. Since I think I need a few more fish, and we can do this stuff while looking for the last fish."

The chat was spamming cat emotes the entire time, as Raph just messed around for the rest of the stream. He kinda forgot to actually finish the game.

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

Masterpost

I just bought the game myself, and this is my thoughts on the first bit of the game. I don't know how far into the game I am, but I also want to complete everything before I climb the building to get home anyway.

[anechomirrored]

Prompt: "No, we're not doing that"

Fandom: Lethal Company AU

Rating: T

Warning: swearing, talk that implies impending death and murder.

You performed a scan on the junk infront of you. An estimated 537 credits. You needed 487 more.

Your broken helmet was the first thing to join the pile, the potted fern from Vow that was residing in it went as well.

20 credits.

467 more.

The decision to add V's latest project to the pile felt wrong. Especially with him sitting slumped against the wall to the left of the transporter.

You had discussed trying to sell the transporter, but Seven had quickly waved you and CB off. The damn things were delicate at best and if someone other than V went poking around inside it they'd be lucky if the core didn't blow the the entire ship up.

"mm, you know just what to say to make a gal feel safe, don't cha?" CB's smile was closer to a grimace.

Seven didn't answer, instead going to their personal locker and pulling out any odd and ends they had been keeping.

You and CB followed suit.

The posters on the walls were peeled back next. Some of them when scanned were worthless but with time ticking down and V still unconcious on the floor you weren't about to admit that to yourself and niether was anyone else.

"Sometimes the scans are wrong." Insisted CB, returning to rummage through her wall locker, "We could still get a few credits." She threw two pencils, a paperclip chain and her hairdryer on the pile.

"We are still two hundred and some short, Bea." Your eyes kept gravitating back to V's motionless form. Why didn't you head back sooner?

He didn't have to be down there, you all had more than enough before-

The familiar clink of CB's wind chime gave her pause, you watched her lift it out of the locker, staring at the many shapes. It was a collection of circuit bee combs. Sections of several nests pilfered from countless swarms of the horrifying little death bugs she was so damn fond of.

"I could always find more..." She told herself quietly.

It went on the pile.

130 credits.

You looked up to see Seven hovering by the controls. They had a chisle in their hand, something they'd found a few months back that was't worth cashing in. They made to raise it and then lowered it again. Their shoulder rigid.

You carefully approached them, seeing now that their other hand rested on the magic seven ball affixed to the ship's launch lever.

"You don't have to, Seven. We still have-"

"Even with this we won't have enough, Ducky." Seven's voice was low, eneven. It wasn't the way they should sound at all.

"Maybe they will let us make it up next run? Carry the difference-"

"They don't operate like that. Even five credits under will cost us our termination...I've seen it." Their voice was distant, regretful.

They gripped the chisle tight and jammed it under the decoration before prying it up.

"Would you use a shovel, X?" They asked and the use of your hired name felt final.

"What?" You stammered.

"If it was down to ten or so credits, would you-" they were cut off by the slam of CB's locker.

" Shut up! How could you ask Duck-"

"We aren't all getting out of the Bea!"

"No, we're not doing that! It's bullshit! We can find enough..." CB looked around wildly, eyes flashing, "What about the keys?"

"Already counted." Seven answered, tone flat.

"Well count them again, Captain!" CB spat the name with enough venom that Seven flinched,"or is the shovel strategy the real reason you outlived all your old crews?"

You Ran out of the ship after that, feet pounding the platform, the muted sound of Gordion's constant storms all around you. When your lungs burned you pushed further, until your hiccuping breaths made you lightheaded. At somepoint you slowed, chest heaving. Your head was a muddled mess of what ifs and problems too big to be solved.

When you next looked up from your boots you were standing infront of The Company Monster's counter. Someone, probably CB, had already started loading your slap dash attempt at meeting quota onto the counter.

The shutters were closed.

Carefully you pulled your name sake out of your pocket. The rubber duck made a short quack and you eyed the shutters.

Still nothing.

You squeezed it once and then a second and third time before the door popped open. The hair on the back of your neck prickled as you reached a hand up to hit you helmet's release.

The air here tasted just as you remembered it to. You shivered as the chill of the storm began setting in. Your hair dampening in seconds.

"Hey, It's ...It's Ducky..." You greeted, staring into that fathomless dark once more, "We uh, we didn't meet quota. We tried, we had it on the ship!" You had raised your voice but stopped short as the dark shimmered a warning humming in the space between it and the counter, "We...we lost it though." You finished softly.

"Ducky?" CB's voice was almost lost in the wind, you resisted the urge to look back at her.

"They are afraid and fighting. They...they don't deserve to die for this. CB, Seven and V...they saved my life so many times so," you took a step forward and then another, "if you could..."

"No! Stop!" CB shrieked, "Seven, let go!" Her voiced echoed off the walls and a distant roar answered somewhere beneath the oceans themselves.

You took another step. This was okay, if The Company's monster had truly spared you on purpose before then maybe it'd count you as a proper trade. Holding out the duck, you took one last breath and let it squeak.

The doorway erupted with writhing tentacles. All at once, the euclidian beast struck the ground on either side of you, causing you to jump in place, every instinct screaming at you to run. A third wrapped around the loot on the counter and violently dragged it into it's waiting void. Then a fourth shot straight towards you.

Silence.

It wasn't until your lungs protested that you opened your eyes and let out that last breath. The fourth was hovering in front of you, end dipped downwards, giving it an almost thoughtful look. The duck shook in your unsteady hands. From behind you there was nothing but the crash of waves and the low sound of the wind moving between the shipping containers and over the top of the ship.

The duck squeaked, bobbing gently as the eldritch appendage lowered to pat its head. In the same sharp intake of breath that alien arm then moved to repeat the action atop your own head.

Once, twice and then it retreated, the shutter snapping closed.

You fell to your knees as the distorted voice came over the speakers.

"We value your commitment"

You were distantly aware of the computer on the ship making that blessed ding, gloved hands grabbed your shoulders easing you the rest of the way to the ground and then you promptly passed out.

[sukunasbow]

family dinner, rick grimes.

summary: in which you and rick have your first family dinner in a while after arriving at alexandria!

warnings: lori doesn’t exist and reader is pretty much her alive replacement aka carl and judith’s mom instead! not yet proof read!

notes: no hate to lori tho sorry lmfao! also im so tried atm so this is probably really bad but mwahh goodnight cuties!

“Ooh, smells good.” Rick walks into the kitchen of, possibly, your new home. You look up from the pot of spaghetti your hovering over, your eyes slightly widening at the sight of him. He’s no longer covered in dirt, he looks clean. His beard is completely shaved off, you’re finally able to see his entire face.

“Woah, I can’t remember the last time I saw you without the beard.” You laugh, Rick rolling his eyes and walking towards you, pressing a kiss to your cheek. You smile, “Okay, dinner’s ready. Can you call Carl while I get Judith?” You add. “Sure.” He walks away momentarily while you get Judith into her high chair, another thing you’re relieved to now have. “Carl! Dinner’s ready.” Your husband yells from the end of the stairs, as your son’s in his new room.

“I haven’t had a real, home cooked dinner in forever.” Carl grins, twirling more of the pasta onto his fork and eating it. “None of us have.” You reply. “This is really good, look, I think Judith likes it.” Rick compliments you, gesturing to your daughter who’s currently hand feeding herself cut up pieces of the spaghetti and meatballs, earning laughs from everyone at the table, Judith looks at the three of you with curiosity. You take a sip of wine from the glass, making sure to let the taste linger on your taste buds, considering you haven’t had wine since your stay at the CDC. You’re happy that you and your family finally have a safe place to stay, but rightfully so, both you and your husband are on edge about this place.

“Thanks for dinner, love you guys.” Carl places his dishes in the sink as you continue washing Judith’s dish. “Love ya.” You and Rick reply at the same time, watching as Carl walks away, going upstairs to his bed. “So.” Rick suddenly looks serious, “Do we trust this place?” He sighs. “I don’t know, I mean, Judith and Carl have warm and safe beds, finally.” You place the dish down in the sink, pausing for a second. “We don’t that, we don’t know these people. (Y/N), this is all temporary, I wish it wasn’t, but it is. Everything is temporary.” Your husband whispers, attempting to not wake up the kids. “Temporary is good enough for right now, hm? It’s safe in the meantime. Lets live in the present, give Deanna and this community a chance. There’s gotta be some good people left, baby.” You dry off your hands with a cloth, walking towards him and sliding your hands around his waist, trying to comfort him.

“If that’s what you think, then..” He pauses, clearly still feeling uneasy. “Your right.” Rick nods. “I always am.” You joke, trying to make him feel better. “Hmm, are you now?” He laughs, shaking his head slightly, “Yup.” You pull him in for a quick kiss before pulling back. “Not tonight, I need my beauty sleep, I finally have a bed!” You cheer, running away from him and upstairs, simply excited to get a good sleep. “Wait for me.” He says, following you towards your shared bedroom.

Even if this is temporary, it’s something. Something safe for your family.

[brb-on-a-quest]

felt-tip, stapler, stamp, scrapbook

felt tip (describe your aesthetic): "In a hole in the ground, there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort. It had a perfectly round door like a porthole, painted green, with a shiny yellow brass knob in the exact middle. The door opened on to a tube-shaped hall like a tunnel: a very comfortable tunnel without smoke, with panelled walls, and floors tiled and carpeted, provided with polished chairs, and lots and lots of pegs for hats and coats - the hobbit was fond of visitors. The tunnel wound on and on, going fairly but not quite straight into the side of the hill - The Hill, as all the people for many miles round called it - and many little round doors opened out of it, first on one side and then on another. No going upstairs for the hobbit: bedrooms, bathrooms, cellars, pantries (lots of these), wardrobes (he had whole rooms devoted to clothes), kitchens, dining-rooms, all were on the same floor, and indeed on the same passage." (Tolkien took my aesthetic and gave it to biblo, minus the hole in the ground). Think like... soft and cozy and a bit academic and warm and inviting and there's always a pot brewing for you and we can sit and do nothing or go on an adventure together dearie.

stapler (who you're closest to): shout to the bestie of seven years at this point!! (shaking crying how has it been 7 years already, hopefully get to spend the rest of my life with her 💜). We've had so many weird adventures together, and she has wonderfully influenced my life.

stamp (pick a special date and why is it special): I don't really remember things most of the timeunless its like...certain people's birthdays (and that's really most of the time unlikely) so not really any date special but Dec 13 this year I will be officially done with higher level education (part one) and I finally get first graduation (thx covid) May 10th. Will they remain special to me? Probably not. but they are special to me now and later in life I will have new special events to commemmerate that will actually be important and I will celebrate those :)

scrapbook: the ocean. I miss the ocean so much. i used to live 15 minutes (or less) away from the beach my entire childhood and now it's been like almost 10 years since I've seen a real ocean. I loved finding sea glass or sand dollars (used to have a collection of them (rip because we moved a lot). I love being in the sand and being in the water and having it push back on you playfully like it's alive, i love when the water is more tranquil and you can just deadman's float face up and let the sun warm your face as you experience actual peace for the first time. I miss being a menace and splashing my siblings (they deserved it). Do not miss Red Tide but Eh win some lose some.

[phantomphangphucker]

Phic Phight - The Bone-Stick Breaker

@46-reasonable-hamsters

Make no BONES about it, there’s a lot of GLOWING remarks in here. A real ILLUMINATING read, that’s positive to leave your eyes SHINING with laughter (and-also-maybe-a-little-bit-of-concern-about-the-authors-mental-state).

Should this be concerning? yeah.

Was it incredibly weird? Yup.

Would any reasonable person be incredibly disturbed right now? YES.

Does Danny need therapy? ABSOLUTELY.

Why you ask?

Oh only because Danny is glowing through the motions of systematically attempting to break every single bone in his entire body one by one, nothing too wild.

Just a little mild self torture is all.

It’s no big deal.

It’s definitely not a sign of a severely unstable psyche, no matter what anyone -Jazz- says.

It’s fun.

That’s a lie.

Well at least it’s Educational.

eh-juh-kay-shuh-nuhl.

Yay! Points for him! And points for another broken bone! A glow-in-the-dark star sticker!

That’s one more rib down!

He’s okay.

Everything is FINE.

It’s not like his boney woney’s are filled with glow-stick juice or anything.

Okay that’s exactly what it is.

He’s a little glowy broken boy.

A bone beater boy.

A real boner if you will.

That was a really dumb joke but he absolutely does not apologize. Just like this is a really dumb plan but he’s not apologising for this either.

Even if his teeth did count as bones and he did attempt to Slap Chop™ one to see what would happen and maybe accidentally sent a chunk flying into the soup pot.

At least he confirmed that yes, his teeth glowed when ‘snapped’, or Slap Chopped™, too.

He’s positive he is absolutely making Technus regret breaking his leg the day before yesterday’s morning, leading to his glowing discovery; all the ghosts were giving positively glowing reviews.

Meaning some were casually cheering the chaos and suffering, and others were begging him to ‘please stop’ and ‘spare us’ and ‘no don’t stab us with your bones! Why do you have bones!’.

But Danny had bones.

Ho boy did he ever have bones.

Bones to pick with everyone that is! Ha!

He’s got this glow stick party going and it’s utterly illuminating the night. Really lighting it up. Giving it a good ol’ spit shine. Absolutely brightening up everyone’s nightmares.

He should start a rave.

A bone glow stick rave.

It would be a bone cracking good time.

Maybe he could liquify some bones, hope they still be shiny, and make a motherfuckin’ proper glowing jello pit. He could use it to try and make people see the light at the end of the tunnel and then all the high people would make a bunch of giggle-watts!

Plus!

Everyone would definitely pay for that!

You know, since he’s not shady!

He is slim though, slim and slime. An ecto-green lime crime, since he be leaving random bones bits around.

The cops must be having a fright over all his nightlights.

He kept ignoring their questioning though, gotta keep the conversations light after all.

Let him be a funky little bean, copper man!

ACAB!

WHOOOOO!

If it was Christmas time he’d replace the city hall Christmas trees star with a bone star. Like a rock star but more him flavoured and more likely to sound like ominous crunching sounds and unholy screams. The kind that would get him basked in holy light out of sheer concern.

Eh. Danny’d still shine brighter.

After all he’s broken a-hundred-and-ninety-two bones, how many bones have those angels broken?

Probably none.

So there.

He’s the winner! Go him! Chicken bone dinner!

Fear the glowing Bone-Stick that is he!

Like a boom stick, except what gets shot and boomed everywhere is BONES!

A real glow up he says, especially since he’s waaaaaaaay brighter.

And then Val has the gaul to catch him in an ecto-net, point at him, and tells him to ‘stop this you menace’ and how ‘seventeen people have vomited because of this crap’ and ‘why is this your response when Tucker cuts off your caffeine supply’.

Which, rude.

Either he got his life blood or they got his bone blood!

BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD! BONES FOR THE BONE THRONE!

Val tasered him into unconsciousness for that one and Tuck dumped exactly one hundred and ninety eight bags of coffee beans on him.

…

But he made it to two-hundred-and-one on his first try? That’s more bones than what’s in one entire hamster! Doesn’t he deserve better pickings for his lickings?

Should he aim for forty-six hamsters next time? Really shoot for the stars and glow amongst them!

He must acquire more bones! Grow them from the ectoplasmic ether!

For the first time in a long time Tuck punches him.

Do they not understand?

Do they not know?!?

That this only causes the rumblies that only broken bones can satisfy to grow!

He will feast on his complete breaks and be one with THE NIGHT IN UN-DIMMABLE RADIANCE!

Shine bright like a bone diamond!

And be better at hide and glow seek!

But first.

Coffee.

Then after.

Only after.

The Bone-Stick Breaker shall return once more upon this mortal domain!

And with him!

UNENDING GLOW STICK BRIGHTERY!

End.

Prompt: Danny breaks a bone in ghost form for the first time, and discovers that his bones function similarly to glow sticks

[fiannalover]

bweirdoctober day 27 - Fears: Mint/Control

Mint - College Age Medeia

On a lovely, cool autumn evening, Lucas was coughing his throat off.

“The flu season has hit you early, hasn't it Lu?” Medeia noticed, discreetly opening a window in order to keep the ventilation going.

“I have been… kinda weird for a bit, honestly.” He admitted, clear pain on his face and the roughness of his cry. “But I had a couple presentations yesterday, so I suppose that has made my voice finish burning out.”

Nodding, his roommate put the kettle on while throwing small talk at him here and there. The familiar noise and steam of the process entered his peripheral senses, the entire heating and steeping process being one he was well used to by then.

Diffusion done, she handed over the hot beverage to her friend. “Here you go. Warm mint tea. It won’t fix the root of your problems, but it should grant some immediate relief to your symptoms. I’ll prepare some actual medicine later.”

Mint? That was weird. Well, he was not gonna scorn this gift. Lucas blew upon it, then took a first sip. The familiar, refreshing taste immediately tickled a part of his brain, while the liquid’s cozy temperature soothed his body. Oh, whoa, this helped!

“Does that help?”

“A lot! Thanks, Medeia!” He beamed in return. Curiosity was taking over, though. “Can I ask a question?”

“Go ahead. What is it?”

“How come I have never seen you plant mint? I’m sure I’ve seen every other herb you ever used make their round as potted plants.” It was an innocent question. But the potion maker seemed to freeze on the spot from it, presenting some sort of primal fear he rarely saw from her. “Medeia?”

“Lu. Have you ever heard of the term ‘Kudzu Plot’?” She inquired.

“Huh? It’s… when a story grows all over the place with no rhyme or reason, I think.”

“Very much so. The name comes from the Kudzu plant, who is infamous for growing over anything, anywhere, until entire landscapes have been taken over by the wretched thing. All things considered, mint is about barely two levels below that.” She elaborated. “I’ve had to make alchemic level botanic killers once. I am not. In any rush. To have to make some again. So I don’t. Raise. Mint.”

Deciding it was best not to make her further revisit the horrors of biochemical warfare, he silently nodded and returned to his tea.

Control - Medeia and the Wondrous Village/Adult life Medeia

“Wheeeeeew! Dealing with Ghosts is such a pain!” Damian complained. “Do you think we'll have to face some of those again?”

“Who knows. For now, at least, they seem to be rather localized in appearance. We probably don't have to worry about this world spitting out these soul fragments elsewhere.” Medeia theorized. “I'm surprised you dislike them so strongly, though. After all, you have a very good resistance to possession.”

“Well, I may have enough willpower to shrug that off more often than not, but hitting them is still a pain! And when they do get me, it does not feel good.” He said, grimacing the entire time, then got reminded of something that was in his mind. “Hey, Medeia. Can I ask you something?”

“Sure. Go ahead.”

“You're pretty much immune to possession, right? But, in spite of that, you carry a lot of alchemic material custom made to ward them off and I could feel real worry from you everytime it happened to me or the others. Why do you focus so much on means of preventing possession?” Damian asked.

“... You got a sharp eye, don't you? Simply put, I'm the kind of person who likes always being in control of my body and mind. The idea of losing sight of myself and my wants is not exactly pleasant to me. And it's- for now, let's just say it means I don't like to see it happen to other people. That's all.” She explained.

“I see. Is that why you always keep a stock of garlic around?”

“Oh? There are no vampires in the village, but that type of knowledge is present in the world? Interesting.” She remarked. “Well, not necessarily. Garlic just makes things tastier, does it not?”

[amazinglyegg]

Egg!!!!!!! I wanna kno. What companions you thing would smoke the za? Which companions would enjoy it or hate it or not wanna try it again?

Finally, now THIS is a good companions react!!!

Side note you almost got a "companions react to pizza" because I did NOT know what "za" was slang for. I was very confused on why companions would smoke pizza. I am not a cool druggie :(

Also also I Have Never Touched A Drug Ever so all my information comes from spying on my older sister and her friends "doing their homework in the backyard" when I was like seven. Enjoy.

Companions React to: Weed

Cait:

Yeah sure why not

Pre Benign Intervention she already does a shit ton of psycho so she wouldn't turn down weed

Post Benign Intervention probably won't continue though for obvious reasons

Not the type of person to make it her entire personality though

Codsworth:

Maybe???

Okay okay I know he can't actually smoke it BUT

It's not like they'd program a mr handy to snitch on their owner for slurping on the bong (is that what they do??? That's what it sounds like)

If Sole's having a good time with friends then Codsworth's happy to be the designated sober friend :)

Curie:

Will only try it if its edibles

Smoking is BAD FOR THE LUNGS and she's the type of person to smell someone smoking weed from across the road and complain about it

She is interested in seeing what being high is like and there's no real risks to it so she's down for experimenting

Probably won't do it again but she enjoyed the experience

Danse:

Medical use marijuana?? More likely than you may think

NOT a partier tho. Will take his One (1) perscribed gummy bear he keeps in his weekly pill organizer and frown at anyone who even mentions the number 420

Makes it surprisingly easy to sneak it past him tho. "I'm making weed brownies.... for medical reasons.... the baking helps with my anxiety as well. Don't eat them."

Deacon:

Oh yeah totally [lie]

You would 100% THINK he's the guy to smoke pot. He knows all the code words. He wears the weed shirts. He knows what "za" means.

But deep down he's a fraud

After getting clean from hard chems he really just does not want to touch any drugs or be around high people in general

His deep insecurities and fear of being abandoned as soon as he's unlikeable will leave him too scared to admit any of that though, so he'll end up smoking just to fit in if he can't find a good excuse to do otherwise

Desdemona:

Has probably done it as a teen and probably enjoyed it but won't do it again

She is too important to the Railroad to ever be inebriated

Unless Glory convinces her to take a break and then mayybbee she'll get high with her

Takes a lot of convincing though and will probably only happen as a celebration for destroying the Institute

Father:

Sole will blow smoke in his face and he will die right there and then he is Too Old

Gage:

Gage canonically doesn't like drugs but come on he'd smoke weed

Just a little bit. As a treat. Not the type of person to get ridiculously high for hours

Probably had a bunch of bad highs in the past and now is too scared to do it again around others

Hancock:

Not only does he enjoy it, he's like, Into It

Knows all the different kinds of strains and will shit talk your dealer if you show up with Low Quality Weed

Don't ask him too many questions or else you'll be listening to him explain the details of every strain for three hours straight

Maccready:

NO drugs are BAD and he needs to be a GOOD INFLUENCE for his SON

Ends up getting FOMO immediately and tries it.

Probably enjoys it??? Idk bro this is such a hard prompt I DONT KNOW WHAT WEED IS LIKE

Maxson:

I give up

Nick:

This comic is all you need

Piper:

Would try it if Sole gave it to her

NOT IN FRONT OF NAT THOUGH

Would enjoy it

Uses all the terminology wrong though

Preston:

Lets be honest he needs it

Probably won't like it recreationally and good luck getting him to a doctor so he can get it medically

But medical marijuana would be helpful for him pls get him some

X6-88:

He's a teen boy who's rebelling from his parents (the institute) for the first time so of course he tries it

Acts like he enjoys it even if he doesn't

Does this

Bonus Carrington because I have a good guess on who sent this ask:

[beetlesau]

Chapter 5, "I Will." Uhhh yup, here's another

An hour later, you had moved all your various collected camping gear to the roof of your building. This included two tents, a sleeping bag, firewood, a few pots and pans for coffee, and whatever canned food you had left. There was even still your small raised garden growing tomatoes close by.

Not being a fan of a strong chilled breeze you set up the small tent inside the larger tent. As ridiculous and difficult as it was to put together, it did help with insulation. At least, that's what you told yourself. 

Any sane person would probably hightail it out of there by now, and find a new place to live entirely. But you were a bit stubborn when it came to your large collection of trinkets, unwilling to leave them behind just yet. You wanted to at least pack them away in the event you did have to move soon.

Which is how you ended up on the roof, barring the only door in or out. You couldn't leave your things behind. If you ever needed to get back to your room, you left a window unlocked and you could easily scale the walls for access thanks to your quirk. 

Sure, it wasn't the most practical solution, but it would do for now. You just wanted to be out of reach of the Dead that had turned your world upside down. 

Who was he? Who was he before all this that made him so different in death? You ponder if the answer to that could be found in his previous life. A little perturbed you would never know the answer. 

What you did know is that he was dangerous. Despite the fluke of him not eating you after you got knocked out at the crate.... and when he followed you back to your home... and watched you sleep... and then attacked you but ran away at the last second. Yeah. He was dangerous. 

But! He couldn't reach you from here. The barred door was made of sturdy metal, and you could easily get away in time if he did end up breaking it down.

"Point to me? Why yes, I think so. Point to the Dead? Zero." you smugly dusted your hands together as you sat around your cozy warm fire. "I've already seen his quirk, so at least I know he can't fly." 

You watched as a pot above the fire boiled a few ripe tomatoes and water, expired but acceptable spices, and finally to top it off, a package of dried instant noodles. It wasn't much, but you considered yourself a real chef in the apocalypse. Nothing like a soup to warm yourself with. 

You sat enjoying the fresh breeze when a small drop of rain hit your nose and then a few more nestled into your clothing.

"Ah, crumbs." you mumbled, "suppose that's the cue to retire for the evening."

By now, the sun was getting low and soon there would be nothing but your small fire to illuminate the rooftop. There were more shady clouds on the horizon, the impending promise of a storm soon to hit, but you hoped it would be mild enough that you wouldn't have to retreat back inside.

You headed inside your tents and crawled into your sleeping bag. With a full belly, warm blood, and, not to mention the absolutely traumatic day you'd just had, you'd fallen asleep faster than you ever thought possible. 

Finally a well-overdue rest.

... Except not. 

It started out slowly at first, the small pitter-patter on the roof of your tent. Not even loud enough to wake you, but eventually it turned into heavy rain. You were finally startled awake by the sound of thunder roaring all around you. 

"Crap! no way!" you shrieked as lightning struck in the distance and the thunder followed directly after. You panicked, realizing this was not the safest place to be. But if you went back inside... he could show up, and he might not have as hard a time controlling his hunger as last time. 

alright, let's not panic here. We'll just climb down to the window, and uh... figure out where to stay. 

You got up from the warm comfort and made your way to a duffle bag in the outer layer of the tent. You ruffled around for a rain jacket or umbrella, groaning when you found neither. You had to make due and instead pulled out a large blue tarp and a bungee cord. You wrapped it around yourself a few times, trying to get it to stay in position without trapping your arms or blocking your vision. When you finally got it somewhat under control and held in place, at least at the waist, you peeked outside the tent. Some good news you noted as the barrels you'd set out some months ago were finally getting their use, already half full from the heavy rainfall. Apocolypse sink water at its best was tragically grainy. 

Looking beyond the barrels in the distance, towards the bridge, for a fleeting moment, you wondered if your Dead chums would be alright. Nothing to shield them from the storm. Although, luckily no thoughts to make them fearful of it either. 

Pulling you from your considerations was a sound that almost rang like thunder, but it followed after no lightning strike above. You walked outside your tent and towards the ledge of the building, holding your tarp in place. You wondered if the pelting of rain on the tarp would drown out any other noises. You looked down the wall of the building and could see your window. Wondering now if the rain would make it much harder to keep a solid grip as you'd scale down it. 

You tested it by placing one hand on the wall, then another. Your quirk allowed you to practically stick to the wall, it didn't seem you'd lost any grip on the wet stone. Happy enough with this small test you leaned back over to remove your shoes. 

Then another thunder, but not thunder sound rang out, this time it was closer and answered the question of hearing under a tarp. You looked down the wall where it seemed to have come from, but found nothing. 

You definitely heard something. You hoisted yourself over the ledge and made sure all ten fingers were down flat against the building before taking your next movement. Cautions as you made small steady actions down the wall. 

You'd only gotten maybe three full feet away from the ledge before the wall below you exploded out in glass and brick. The smoke that spewed out made you cough uncontrollably and your eyes burn. 

He was there, in your apartment, apparently mad enough that when he couldn't find you, his plan of action was to blow a hole in your wall.

When the smoke departed you saw the Dead leaning out of his new window renovation, his stiffened neck straining to turn enough to see you hanging above him. If you didn't know any better you'd say he looked almost surprised to see you there. That supposed look turned into a scowl as he slowly reached out a grabbing hand towards you. He couldn't reach you, you were still a good floor and a half above him. But still, he reached, beckoned you to come down. 

You shook your head at him, "ARE YOU NUTS? You tried to eat me yesterday! You just BLEW A HOLE in the side of my apartment! Go away! I don't want to be eaten anymore!" you were delirious with fear and anger that you WOULD have to find a new place to live. you turned to climb back to the roof, maybe against all odds he would listen and just go away. 

You didn't look back when you heard more explosions, even as they passed right by your ears. Maybe he was trying to kill you. Trying to blow you up. When you reached the ledge again you threw yourself over and lay on the roof, panting. The rain had gotten under your tarp and you were soaked through. 

How could anything possibly get worse? you cried. 

Then you heard the shuffling. Coming towards you, on the roof, in the rain, in the dark, as you were soaked to the core. 

Reluctant to open your eyes you just spoke out blindly. "Are you on the roof with me?"

...

...

A growl. 

"Can you fly or something?"

another growl. 

Sigh. "Alright." 

You picked yourself up and sat leaning against the wall, head between your knees. Just... over it. 

Then you felt a tickle of cloth lightly tapping against your arm. Finally looking up, a rag was being dangled in front of you. 

"What's this?" you asked nonchalantly. 

"Uhh." 

"Ah, right. Cool, thanks." you took the rag and put your head back down. 

An annoyed grunt followed by a soft thud landing in front of you, you checked on your stalker and saw that he'd now kneeled down in front of you, tense and childishly mad in appearance. 

"I don't understand! What do you want from me!"

He reached out his hand clumsily and a bit too tightly around yours, pulling it and the rag up to his face. 

"You.. want me to clean your face now? What about before...?"

"Herl" his voice was harsh but quieter.  

"What?" you leaned in closer to hear him better, once again forgetting what he was. 

"H-help."

"So you do need my help." you could feel your heart melt and the utter sadness of the situation. There was something inside this Dead, something that was still living. 

He huffed and tried to look away, but you still held his cheek and turned it back to you. His eyes, still like rubies, looked as though they were wet, but surely it was only from the rain. 

Forgetting about the cold and the rain, you wiped his face. He had clearly been caught out in the storm since some of the work had already been done for you. His hair was looking cleaner, and the muck in it had dripped down over his face. You wiped it away gently as he stared at you, unblinking. You cleaned the ash and soot that still clung to the divots under his eyes. Then the neck, following it up to the sharp curves of his jaw. When it was as clean as it could get, for now, you leaned back and admired the work. 

"There we go... there was someone under all that, huh?" you smiled. 

"Help." he repeated. "Help."

"I--"

There was someone there. Inside, pounding on this newly cleaned grey flesh that begged to be freed. Again, you wondered. Who was this person in their living life, to be filled with such determination in death? You felt a lump in your throat. The agony of humanity trapped within the Dead. You could find out. You would. 

"I will." 

[attroxx]

❛ @metrictita said . . . [ death ] sender just died, receiver finds out / i apologize in advance but it has to happen . . . for mia, from zaya 😭 ❜

𝐒𝐔𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐈𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐄. at least, that's what mia always was told. but something was off. the flower seated on her window sill is slumped over, once colorful leaves now devoid of anything but grey and brown. last night she'd watered it before heading to bed. what had happened ? flowers don't just die overnight, she knew that much from her years of gardening. standing before the open window, the tiny flower pot in her hands mia feels . . . wrong. it's as if the world has been turned on its axis, making everything just slightly off. when zaya hadn't replied to her text mia didn't worry too much. they were supposed to meet today. being the overthinker she was the princess simply wanted to confirm the time once more. but when no response comes . . . her stomach dips as if she's coming up over the hill on a roller coaster.

the morning is uneventful and mia opts to get ready a bit sooner than she'd planned. something was nudging her, telling her to go to zaya's place now. not later. now. quickly she readies herself, applying some make up and making her skirt is wrinkle free mia snatches her purse before heading out of the castle in a hurry. the entire walk is dreadful. her stomach won't settle, thoughts threatening to spiral. no, everything is fine. once again, mia was overreacting. a dying plant is inconsequential. she'd burst through the doors of zaya's place and he'd probably scold her for showing up so early. that's what will happen.

shaky hands grip the strap of her purse. knock. nothing. mia is fighting the urge to throw open the door. breaking in wouldn't end well. knock knock. this time the door creaks and slowly opens for her as if an unseeable force is letting her inside. it had been unlocked this whole time. panic floods her system, pushing past the threshold and making her way inside.

❛ z - zaya ? the door was open and i - ❜ some things just aren't meant to be seen. some things can never be unseen. purse falling at her feet mia freezes. red coats the living room from top to bottom. it's gruesome and hateful. whatever had happened here was . . . never meant to be seen. not by her, at least. zaya's form is slumped against the back of his couch, sitting up at if he was just resting but . . . the blood. bile rising to her throat she covers her mouth, tears filling her vision at the scent but also . . .

❛ zaya !! ❜ without thinking, without even giving the blood a second thought she crosses the living room. red sinks into her shoes, creating footprints as she makes it to zaya's side. frantic hands press to his wrist. but nothing comes and mia stares in disbelief. it must be a nightmare. she must have not woken up this morning. ❛ z - zaya . . . ? ❜ he can't go. he can't leave. how was that fair ? how could someone do such a cruel and awful thing ?! zaya never . . . he didn't . . . now blood stained fingers press against her face as if an attempt to wake herself up. but everything feels real. gently, she scoots closer, arms wrapping around zaya's limp form, holding him tightly. maybe, maybe if she just . . . maybe he'd wake up.

pink is now stained crimson. but mia had forgotten about the blood, about the gruesome state of zaya's home. about how shy she always was around him. about everything. fingers curl around his shirt tightly, his head now laying against her chest. she shakes him but as gently as her shaking form can manage. ❛ zaya, wake up. r - right now. please . . . zaya . . . ❜ salty tears mix with blood as her eyes become forgotten faucets. forehead now resting against his hair her body shakes, holding onto him as if someone might rip him from her arms. whoever had done this would pay, and by her hand.

angst meme. ― accepting.

[martianbugsbunny]

Who Makes You See Color (A CaptainCroc Soulmates AU Fic): Chapter 3

*waves enthusiastically* Howdy, folks! Chapter 3 of my CaptainCroc fic is yours for the reading! Let me tell you, I am really loving this thing. It’s so much fun to write. I think I nailed Rumple’s dialogue in this one, and it’s just my favorite challenge. Tags: @wastingstarsss Enjoy!!

In a moment, the entire crew of the Jolly Roger was suspended in time. “Don’t worry about your reputation, Captain, they can’t hear us,” Rumplestiltskin said. Killian was mesmerized by his eyes. That shade of piercing amber would haunt him forever.

Rumple knew that Killian was seeing color. The look of wonder and fear on his face was unmistakable. So it was true, after all: the pirate was his soulmate.

“Have you seen color, crocodile?” Killian demanded, his voice thin.

“I have,” he answered, with a wolfish grin. “Now, let me think…when, when, when when when was the first time.” He sounded half-mad, but Killian knew he was in full charge of his mind. He knew precisely what he was doing.

“Ah, yes! Now I’ve got it!” Rumple knelt down beside Killian, taking his face in one hand. “A cruel pirate had me knocked to the deck of his ship. To intimidate me. To mock me. And his eyes were the same color as the sea, and I despaired for knowing that I was made for him.” Killian shivered. He had always loved the way people said that; he had loved the thought of being made in such a way that he melded into one person with another. But not the Dark One. Not Rumplestiltskin.

“And now I know it for a fact,” Rumple went on. “Killian Jones is my soulmate.” He sounded disgusted.

“It can’t be,” Killian muttered. “Tell me this is a trick of your dark magic.”

Rumple grimaced. “Between you and me, dearie, I think I’ve got the worse end of the deal,” he said. “Besides, she wasn’t your ‘true love,’ so don’t get your leather pants in a twist.”

Killian got to his feet, blood boiling. “If that’s not the pot calling the kettle black,” he muttered, looking over Rumple’s outfit. “You are evil, and inhuman, and utterly heartless, and I—“ He bit back a laugh, staring down at Rumple, who was in absolutely no hurry to get up. “I can’t love that, but I can work with it,” he admitted.

Rumple grinned. “That will make my proposition much easier. I’m searching for someone, Captain Jones. I need a way to cross the boundaries between worlds. Give me that bean and I’ll leave you in peace.”

Killian uncurled his fist. “It’s a fake,” he said. “There is no magic in it.”

Slowly, like a cobra rearing its head, Rumple stood. “A fake. You offered the Dark One fake magic?”

A long moment stretched between them, each holding the other’s gaze. Killian studied the dim, yet sharp, colors in Rumple’s irises. Rumple wondered, looking into the clear blue of Killian’s, if he had truly been born from the sea.

“I’m going to offer you a deal, pirate,” Rumple hissed. “You’re going to help me find a way to cross worlds. I don’t care how long it takes, once you’ve agreed you don’t get to back out.”

“And what do I get out of this deal?” Killian asked, tilting his head.

“Well for one thing you get to live,” Rumple replied. “For another, I will ensure that no-one ever discovers our connection. Nobody will wonder if you’re only feared for who your soulmate is.” Killian knew he was in Rumple’s grip. He wouldn’t be taken seriously for himself once a single person figured out that he and Rumple were soulmates; the Dark One cast shadows over every person he’d ever met. And a pirate’s life was really all he wanted.

“I won’t live forever, you know,” he said. There was a little glimmer of light—he would probably die before Rumple got any real use out of him. He would be getting the cheaper end of the bargain.

“Do we have a deal?” Rumple asked.

Killian knew better than to say yes. There had to be a catch he wasn’t seeing, some hidden part of the bargain that he wouldn’t find until it was too late. “You’ve got yourself a deal, mate,” he said.

Rumple smiled. He giggled in that obnoxious, grating way he had, which should be little more than annoying and childish, but was somehow still sinister. “Good,” he said. “And, ah—one more thing.”

He plunged his hand into Killian’s chest and when he drew it out, he was holding Killian’s heart. “You won’t have to worry about me, outliving you,” he said.

Rumple removed his own heart and set them both down on the deck. Side by side, Killian couldn’t tell the difference. They were the same. Then Rumple split each of them in half and combined them into two hybrid hearts. When he shoved one of them roughly into Killian’s chest, he wasn’t sure what to feel. Only half of what was now sitting neatly at his center, beating blood through his veins, was his.

Rumple sighed. He could feel the difference when he replaced his heart. But there was no struggle between the two halves; they pulsed together. “Now my immortality is yours,” he told Killian. “You will live as long as I have need of you.”

He turned away, then pivoted back around on his heel again. “And if I ever find you with another man’s wife again,” he said, “I’ll rip your throat out and see if that heart still keeps you alive.”