#the body of a stag took his place

[arthursfuckinghat]

"You are not who you think you are, sir."

"Which is lucky."

[scoutswritingcorner]

A Stag And His Deer.

Alastor x GN!Deer!Reader

TW:Alastor being a silly creature and not knowing how to flirt.

A/N:I saw an amazing prompt from Anon and art by @aboyscriminalrecord KEEP UP THE GOOD WORK POOKIE <3

He had been glaring you down ever since you had arrived in the Hotel. He hated not being the only deer now, he had half a mind to kill you where you stood. 

Yet, Charlie beat him to the punch. Now he was standing five feet away from you as you locked eyes with him. It had been like this for an hour. Why weren’t you backing down? He needed you to back down, he was the superior deer here. You were just a newcomer. He could settle this like a gentleman.

He was not settling like a gentleman, you were not being kind to him. He growled and lashed his head as he tried to get his horns unstuck from yours, you started the fight. (You didn't, you looked down for a second and he took that as an invitation to fight.) Your hands wrapped around his antlers making him jump before pushing back against yours twisting his head as he ignored how his tail was wagging. How dare you make his heart flutter and his tail wag! This was not okay!

 His hooves (yes he has hooves sue me) dug into the carpeted floor as he started to easily push your body back. The look of fear in your eyes made his smile widen but quickly enough you had regained your composure and started to push back. Oh this was not supposed to go like this AND LET GO OF HIS HORNS THEY ARE SENSITIVE.

~~~

Angel sat at the bar drinking his martini as he watched for the fifth time that hour, you getting your antlers unstuck from him before Alastor immediately tangled them back together with what he could say was a sadistic smile. He has yet learned how to read Alastor’s grin.

“Are they flirting?” Angel asked, leaning against the bar as Husk looked up from the glass he was cleaning. “Yeah..well..Alastor is, I don’t know about the new kid. They seem to be just wanting to go to their room.” He hummed, placing the glass down, “He’s a bad flirt.” Angel snickered, taking one last sip of his martini before cupping his hands around his mouth, “GET A ROOM!” Husk froze watching as Alastor promptly ignored the spider in favor of chasing you around the hotel lobby. He needed to win. 

He needed to show you who was the rightful Deer in this hotel. And totally not because he was trying to show how good of a boyfriend he could be. Nope. Not at all.

A/N: LITERALLY NO ONE ASKED FOR THIS BUT I WANTED TO WRITE IT DOWN CAUSE ITS A CUTE PROMPT

[liliannadelaphinehartifelt]

Alastor - [ CATCH IT ON CAMERA ]

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This was originally a silly little fluff piece that turned into….well, this. I hope you all got the vibe from the song cause it doesn't get more straightforward than that…

WARNINGS: [ MDNI ] + [ NSFW ] + [ FEM READER ] + [ BUBBLY READER ] + [ IMPLIED SMUT ]

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Taking a polaroid picture with Alastor!!

That was the goal when you stroll into his room with the brightest smile as he sits reading alone late one night.

Your lover doesn't initially suspect what you're up to.

He’s very content with reading as you go about your antics as quietly as possible.

Alastor was perfectly unbothered by your presence at first, used to your soft giggles filling the room and quietly enjoying the jovial aura you emit.

It's only when he hears a distinct ‘click’ of a camera that he stiffens in his seat.

The sharp and quiet sound caused his ears to twitch, claws digging into the leather cover of the book he held, and his red eyes peered over the edge to see the source of the interruption.

You peer back up at him, smiling softly from your spot on the carpeted floor.

The tiny polaroid camera in your dainty hands holds his attention, probably combusting into flames in another universe by the look on his face, but you grasp it tight in hopes it'll stay intact.

“What's that infernal thing doing here?” he snarls quietly, attempting to stay calm as your eyes soften on him, silently begging the stag to be kind.

Though his patience is thin, he withholds his hateful rant about technology to hear you out.

“A little imp sold it to me, and I just couldn't say no, Allie! It takes wonderful pictures too and…and I've always wanted one..” your voice trembled a little, afraid he'd outright scold you.

Alastor seriously considered doing so until he spotted the array of Polaroid prints you'd already taken and left to dry on the carpet.

You had some of yourself. Posing freely in each one, and every frame he laid his eyes on was strangely adorable, with a few mildly scandalous, in his opinion.

Alastor then caught sight of the few you'd taken of him, all off-guard shots, clearly taken at a distance as if not to disturb him.

Those, in particular, had your lipstick print on them, tender kisses you'd placed there as a silly add-on of affection for him, and his tail twitched in amusement at the minuscule detail.

“Let me see it, darling,” he held a clawed hand out, book now resting in his lap, and his posture more relaxed than a moment ago.

Hesitant at first, you hand him the camera, silently hoping he'd refrain from destroying it. You are pleasantly surprised when he shows no indication of doing so.

“Hmm..”

Alastor inspected the device thoroughly, eyes narrowed as he searched for any signs of the Vees’ technology, but there was no evidence of their tampering whenever he looked.

He still took the precaution of asking you directly, “It's not one of their devices, is it?”

You shift to sit on your knees, not having to ask who he's referring to, “No. Not that I know of…” you answer truthfully.

Alastor hums, seeing no trace of deceit in your expression and having no reason not to believe you; he hands the camera back.

You take it with a gracious smile, absolutely over the moon that he let you have it back, “You may keep it… but any picture you take is only shown to me. Have I made myself clear, dear?”

You nod eagerly, happy to have the camera back and not bothered by his stipulation.

”Okay, Allie!” You chirp, contently fiddling with it again, giggling as you take more silly pictures of yourself.

Alastor watches as you do, following your body as you roll around the floor leisurely, posing provocatively here and there.

It almost annoys him how good you look, acting childish and carefree, barely trying to keep his attention, and moderately unaware of how badly he wanted yours.

The book in his lap was no longer enjoyable, lacking the entertainment you provided, and his focus was permanently on you.

If only you'd put that dammed camera down….

Alastor narrowed his eyes, smile tightening as you rolled onto your back to take a particularly racey photograph of yourself, sporting a rather lewd expression he'd only seen you make amid pleasure he induced.

His eye twitched as you snapped the picture, unable to look away as you stuck your tongue out and winked seductively, tilting your head to get a better angle and inadvertently directing your face towards him.

The stag grunted an obscenity as you eyed him innocently from below, head cocking to the side in curiosity as to why he seemed so stiff.

“Am I bothering you?” Your gaze softens, twinges of shyness seething in at the thought of annoying the overlord, and you braced yourself for him to answer with a curt ‘yes.’

That answer never came.

Alastor remained silent, staring intently at you before reaching a hand out to caress one side of your face.

His touch was cold, a chilled contrast to the heat rising on your cheeks as his claws trailed down your skin, stopping once he reached the curve of your jaw.

Your lips slightly opened, a soft gasp escaping them as his sharp nails ghosted over you. He gripped your chin and chuckled as your instinct to relax in his hold kicked in.

“You're not bothering me at all, dear. I have a request in mind. That's all.” he lowered his voice, unconsciously lessening its static as you hummed quietly in response.

Your eyes fluttered closed, face nuzzling into his palm as you rolled to lay on your front, leaving the camera on the floor near your waist. Your feet kicked up, lace stocking-clad legs lazily swinging as he cupped your face gently, careful not to scratch your soft skin with his claws.

For a brutal overlord to be so tender was unfathomable to most, but you counted yourself lucky to have encountered one.

You basked in his touch for a moment, slowly lifting your gaze to his heavily clouded one, “Is it somethin’ I can help with, Allie?” you asked him quietly, giving a small smile as he scratched his nails under your chin affectionately.

Alastor chuckled, seeing your blush intensify at his gesture, a reaction he'd yet to tire of bringing out of you.

“Yes, you can help, but you'll have to promise to keep it a secret between us, little one. Can you do that?”

His deliberate cooing made your heart melt, every bone in your body buzzing with delight as he coaxed you into secrecy.

“Okay…I won't tell a soul. I promise..” you nearly whine, dying of anticipation and needing much more physical touch than he was giving you now.

“Come to me then, darling,” he barely finishes the command before you slide onto his lap with a giddy smile.

You settle down on him comfortably, straddling his lower half and unafraid to relax against his chest.

Alastor grunts as your body meets his, momentarily distracted by the pressure you impose on his hardening cock, but quickly averts his attention back to his previous train of thought as you tug at the lapels of his pristine overcoat impatiently.

You pout while he raises a brow at you, clearly unamused by your bratty gesture, “I wanna know now…” your expression turns sour, a dramatic showcase he can't help but laugh at before snapping his fingers to conjure the item you left on the floor.

“I'd like to take a picture with you, dear,” he explains causally, and you blank at the statement, having to process the bizarre concept of the Radio Demon of all beings wanting to associate himself with a camera…

Willingly at that…

“R-really,” you squeak out, confused but gradually excited by the prospect.

Alastor peered at the camera in his hand, pricking the newly printed photo you took a moment ago from the bottom slot, holding the picture up to admire its details.

You blushed seeing him study your downright slutty behavior taken in one snapshot.

Though you were a little embarrassed, he seemed amused rather than disgusted.

“I'd like to recapture you making this exact face. You wouldn't mind posing like that for me again, right little doe?”

He articulates the demand as a light-hearted question, fixed grin shifting to a closed smile as he hummed lowly at your timid nod of agreement seconds later.

Your silent compliance isn't enough for the stag, his hips rutting up into you forcefully to prompt a verbal answer, and you give it through a trembling moan.

“N-no, I don't mind at all…”

The pitch in your voice rises, shocks of pleasure igniting in your core from the feeling of his prominent hard-on brushing against your clothed slit.

An immediate patch of your slick forms on the thin fabric that keeps your mound hidden.

Alastor snakes an arm around your waist, holding you close with a toothy grin reappearing on his face, sharp teeth grazing your ear as he whispers into it.

“You’ll put on a show for me, yes?” you nod quickly, unable to help yourself from grinding down on him for more friction,

“Yes..” you purr, helpless as ever, when a deep laughter thunders in his chest at your reflexive response.

“Then smile, my dear! I don't want to miss a single second of your darling reactions..” he held you still as his free hand lifted the camera, capturing the split second his head shifted downward, finding the most sensitive area on your neck and marking it with ease.

You shivered against him, feeling the smirk on his lips as the crisp click of the camera’s flash going off mixed with your startled moan.

He‘d certainly have a grand time with you and your new little trinket.

And you'd accomplished much more than achieving your goal of getting one picture with him…

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Sometimes, I think I'm incapable of writing fluff. It's almost a curse at this point…

NO TAGS: 🚫

[ BONUS CONTENT + ]

The song in this edit used to annoy the shit out of me but ill let it slide this ONE time cause its Alastor…. Credits to creator ❤️

[hihomeghere]

Desperado | Charles Smith x f!Reader

Word Count : 1.2k

Summary : Set four months after Charles leaves with the Wapiti. You and Charles try to figure out what to do after the gang falls apart. Comfort fic

Warnings/tags : Mention of dead bodies, death, shooting, Established realtionship. Let me know if I missed any

divider by @saradika

Unfortunately for you, you found yourself in this situation more than often. Cupping your steaming cup of coffee watching as the sun turned the magenta sky a burnt orange hue.

It was a beautiful sight, something that should have spread warmth throughout your body, like the near boiling liquid you forced down your throat. Instead, it left a bitter taste in your mouth. You should be back in your bedroll, curled up in Charles' warm embrace. Feeling the soft puff of his breath against your neck, the gentle rise and fall of his chest against your back. 

You pulled your shawl tighter around your body, although there was no chill in the air. The Wapiti were settled, as settled as they could be. Forced off their land again, and again. As much as you hoped they would not be displaced again, you knew it was mostly wishful thinking. You grit your teeth, a spark igniting in your belly that had been smoldering for months.

It had been four months, and you knew what Charles would say if he was awake, four months isn’t a long time. Four months since John got shot, four months since the last time you had seen Arthur alive, four months since you took the grieving Wapiti north, farther away from their lands. Four months since you last saw the gang, or what was left of it. If you could even call Dutch’s ramblings and whatever fools Micah brought along the van der linde gang. 

That’s not what it had been when you had joined, when Hosea had caught you stealing from him in that saloon back in Wyoming. A small chuckle left your lips, shaking your head as you recalled his crooked smile as he cornered you leaving the bar. Your smile faltered, just another one of your family buried under the ground. Another one you and Charles buried.

At least he wasn’t alone, poor Lenny next to him. You always thought his sickness would catch him before a bullet did. But you were always the dreamer. More like Dutch in that regard. 

Dutch.

You threw your cup as far as you could, swallowing the sob that threatened to break past your lips. 

“What did that cup ever do to you?” Charles' groggy voice asked, pulling the tent flap back. The bright morning light illuminates him, like your own personal beacon. 

“Burnt my tongue.” You mumbled, crossing your arms.

“And that’s the cup's fault?” He asked, raising an eyebrow as he strode towards you. He stood beside you, his dark skin glowing in the dawn. 

“Yes.” You said, a deep rumbling chuckle worked through his chest. 

“Stubborn.” He said softly, shaking his head. You hummed, tearing your eyes away from him. A deer, a stag, broke across the plains. Pausing for a moment as he caught sight of you and Charles, before he ran off. 

“Was it the same one?” His voice broke the silence, your stomach sinking into the pit of your stomach.

“What do you mean?” You could practically hear his eyes roll in his head. You knew what he meant, was it the same nightmare that had been plaguing you since you came across Grimshaw’s body, Arthur’s body. “Yes.” You said, your lip twitching as you sighed.

He hummed, nodding as he crossed his arms. He didn’t speak, didn’t talk just to fill the air. It was another thing you loved about him. He was comfortable enough to just… be.

Something that had drawn you towards him in the first place. He was calm, quiet, and collected. Someone like him didn’t come along often in your line of work. Men who ran in gangs were normally brash, loud, abrasive, sometimes down right intolerable. He wasn’t a man without a few faults, you had seen that flash of anger spike through him once or twice. But it was healthy, having passion and morals wasn’t a crime. Shooting fellas who didn’t was but you had committed worse crimes in your lifetime than killing a poacher or a racist. He was… helpful, kind, maybe a bit cold at times. You didn’t mind, you liked just being in his presence, sharing his company without having to worry about coming up with something to say.

It happened quickly, falling in love with Charles. Like the way cold spreads through your body after dipping your toe into a river. It overtook you, he overtook you. 

You avoided it at first, avoided him. Took odd jobs from Dutch, spent as little time around camp as possible. But it was like he had crawled under your skin, infiltrating your every thought.

He took a different approach on his affection, one that involved cornering you once you returned to camp. You were glad for it, glad that he had the balls you lacked.

Since then you were inseparable. Like two halves of a whole, you felt complete around him. He felt like home, that in itself was a dangerous thought. After spending your whole life running from place to place, your ‘home’ being wherever you laid your head at the end of the day. It was strange, running towards someone instead of away. He allowed you to speak of your dreams without the fear of being told they were foolish. Looking back, he shouldn’t have indulged you so. Shouldn’t have allowed you to dream. Where did it get you? 

Where did your loyalty get you?

“You’ve got that look again.” He mumbled, looking at you from the corner of his eye.

“What look?” You asked, as you turned to look at him

“That look.” He said softly, pressing a finger between your furrowed brows. “Talk to me.” 

“I can’t.” You swallowed thickly, hating how your voice broke. Hating how damn confusing everything got, your words were a constant stream in your mind that you couldn’t make sense of. 

Sean, Kieran, Hosea, Lenny, Molly, Eagle flies, John, Miss Grimshaw, Arthur.

He softened, frowning as he moved to cup your cheek. 

“Y/n,” He said gently, running his thumb over your cheekbone. 

“I can’t.” You whispered, blinking back the tears as you looked into his eyes. He let out a sigh, pulling you into his embrace. You buried your face into his chest, letting the tears fall. Hiccuping sobs wracked your frame as he gently shushed you, running his hands up and down your back.

“Breathe darlin’.” He said softly, holding you tightly against him. 

“I keep seeing them- seeing them lying there, rotting-“

“Shh,” He shushed, pressing his lips to the crown on your head. “Tell me what I can do.” He pleaded gently, petting your hair.

“Just- just hold me.” You mumbled, sniffling as you pressed yourself deeper into his embrace if that was even possible. He held you, his arms strong and secure around you. In that moment, no matter what had happened or what was to come, you were safe. You knew you would always be safe in his arms. You would always have a home with Charles.

So let the nightmares come, the law, it didn’t matter. You had all you needed as long as he was beside you.

[grandlinedreams]

Hiya! Thank you for all of your fics! 🫡 They really make my day everyday! If you are still accepting requests, may I please request anything angsty with a fluffy end for Azriel 🥹 Whatever you can think of! ☺️

Hiya!! I sure can hehe, I hope this is to your liking!!

|| warnings: angst, blood, the war camp Illyrians are jerks, fluff

Illyria is fucking cold.

Wind whips at your face, unforgiving chill biting at any exposed skin ㅡ not to mention the steady crush of snow beneath your feet. The sun is already sinking past the snow-covered line of pines that makes up the steppes ㅡ making you grimace and attempt to hurry your pace.

This was not how you'd expected to spend your evening ㅡ but then again, you suppose freezing to death is more ideal than whatever fate your supposed "group" had intended for you. Made of Illyrian males and wholly unfamiliar, they'd made it clear that you weren't welcome on this expedition when you'd started ㅡ even more so when they'd had the audacity to grab at you with enough force to bruise your skin.

You aren't Illyrian, and so perhaps the thought had been that you would be weak, made more vulnerable in unfamiliar territory ㅡ but you'd proven them wrong when you'd sank your dagger into the gut of one of them, wrenched yourself free, and promptly taken off with the speed of a frightened stag.

You know they could track you if they really tried, but with the snow that pelts from above and the darkening sky, you doubt they'll risk it. But you're facing a bigger problem now ㅡ you have no idea how to get back.

"Fuck," you whisper to yourself, teeth clenched to keep from chattering. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

If it weren't so goddamned cold, you would've been paying better attention. If you hadn't been chased off by a handful of alphahole males with superiority complexes, you wouldn't even be out here in the first place.

Which is why, you suppose, all you can feel is surprise as the ground underneath you gives way with the cracking snap of loose rock and earth. It doesn't give you time to react as you lose your balance, plummeting gracelessly down into the abyss below what'd apparently been a drop off.

Your body bounces once, twice ㅡ then your head rebounds off sharp stone, impact making your ears ring before silent black consumes you.

Something is wrong.

Azriel can feel it, an undercurrent of tension that thrums in his veins like a second heartbeat. This entire place makes him uneasy, the churn of memories from his own time here as a child that reminds him why he avoids this place at all costs when he can.

But Rhysand had been adamant that he and Cassian make sure things were going well here, and you'd gone along to offer what support you could. Azriel appreciated the intent, but the way you'd been eyed by more than a few of the other males had set him on edge even further.

Cassian eyes him with a mixture of amusement and sympathy at the fact that he's just shy of pacing. Movement at the edge of his peripheral catches his attention, and he turns ㅡ it's the group you'd gone to scout the steppes with.

And, he notes with a fresh spike of fear to his stomach, you're not with them.

Azriel is moving before he truly registers it, eyes flicking from one face to another, fury rising like the maelstrom howling in the moutains beyond. "Where is she."

One of them has the audacity to scoff, and Azriel's blood boils as his shadows writhe, clamoring for bloodshed. Right now, he'd have no qualms about ripping every single one of them to pieces. His siphons blaze. "Tell me where [Name] is. Now."

One of them sneers. His arm is slung over his stomach, stemming the spill of blood from a wound to his stomach. Azriel hopes that you're the one who gave it to him. "She took off."

Azriel snarls, wings snapping out before he throws a rough, "Deal with them before I do" to Cassian before he's in the air and off in the direction they'd come from.

The only reason you know you aren't dead is because everything hurts. Pain radiates from everywhere, from the tips of your toes to your scalp ㅡ but you're alive.

You're not certain if you're relieved or not. A quick tentative flex of your hands is first, then your neck, your back ㅡ and you hiss a sharp curse when white-hot agony starbursts from your left ankle.

It takes longer than you care to acknowledge to sit up enough to assess it ㅡ grimacing at the swollen flesh, bruised an interesting shade of purple.

Fuck.

There's no way you're going to get out of here, not like this. Frustration mixed with fear prompts the rise of tears to your eyes, and you grit your teeth against a sob.

You're going to die out here. And there's nothing you can do about it. You doubt those alphaholes told anyone what happened and while you know Cassian and Azriel will look for you, they won't know where to look.

You stifle another choked sob, then still at the sound of movement. Of course some wild animal would take advantage, you're an easy meal ㅡ

"[Name]," a voice calls from behind you, so Cauldron-blessedly familiar that it has you struggling to turn, raw hands scrabbling for purchase to haul you upright.

You don't know how your ankle bears your weight or how you don't immediately collapse back to the ground ㅡ all you care about is lurching into the Illyrian male's arms with a ragged call of his name. "Azriel."

How he found you is beyond you, but his arms are around you, warding off some of the chill as he takes on most of your weight. He doesn't ask what happened, and you don't ask what you look like. The way his grip tightens on you answers how he feels about both.

He's still gentle as he lifts you up, flinching when you still hiss in pain. And then you're airborne, cradled carefully against him. Pain and exhaustion make your eyelids heavy as you nestle against Azriel's neck, the subtle shift of his head against yours following you into sleep.

When you wake next, it's to the crackle of a fire and the warmth of dry clothes. Sitting up is still a challenge, and dried blood flakes beneath your touch when you bring your fingers to the tender throbbing of your temple.

"You're awake." You look up to see Azriel standing in the doorway. You've been around him enough to read him, the unspoken relief in his eyes as he approaches. "You don't have to worry about that group of warriors," he tells you, "Cassian and I handled it."

The gleam to his eyes turns wicked and cruel, and you have no doubts how he and Cassian handled it. It doesn't make you feel better. You look away, studying the blanket over your legs.

"They had a point," you mumble, hating the weak rasp to your tone. "I shouldn'tㅡ"

"Give people like that any kind of weight to the words they say," Azriel cuts in sharply. "Because they're wrong. Just because you aren't Illyrian doesn't mean you're not strong."

When you still won't look at him, Azriel approaches you and reaches, calloused fingers coaxing your head up to meet his gaze.

"You still deserve better, Az," you mumble. Azriel's eyes narrow, flashing before he's leaning down to press his lips to yours. The kiss is rough, demanding ㅡ and then he pulls away enough to look at you, eyes blazing.

"I don't want better," Azriel answers, voice low. "Because there isn't. I just want you."

Your lips tremble before you're kissing him again, softer and sweeter. "You have me, Az," you mumble.

"And you have me," he answers, quiet enough that only you can hear him. "Now and forever."

[politemenacephd]

Arachnophilia: (Part Ten)

Drider!Miguel O'Hara x Reader (+18)

Chapter Masterlist 🕷️

Content: Fluff and bonding, Monster/human relationship, Miguel is rutting, Reader goes into heat, Rough PinV sex, Spontaneous outdoor sex, Slight voyuerism/exhibitionism, Mouth covering, Rough biting, Creampie & web sealing, Little bit of angst at the end? CW: Mentions of & brief depiction of deer hunting.

Word count: 6060

One Week Later

‘Are you ready, arañita?’

Miguel’s voice drifted up and into the nest, turning your head towards the entrance. You were halfway through getting dressed and the distraction nearly toppled you to the floor.

‘AH- Yeah! Yeah, I’m- almost ready! Just a minute!’

You struggled into your new outfit; a suit made entirely of silk which Miguel had painstakingly crafted for you. It was super soft and strangely warm, but it clung to the contours of your body a little more than you’d have liked. You kept wondering if Miguel had consciously or perhaps unconsciously made it so form-fitting. After all, this was your third suit of its kind, as he’d ripped the other two to shreds during extremely passionate and wet sex.

You felt your face grow warm at the memory and physically shook it away. No, no time for that. If you slipped back into the heat again you’d never get to go on the trip, and you were excited to go.

As you rose to your feet you took a moment to admire how the nest was coming along. The first thing you’d done was make it homely by adding a window and doors, with the entrance now covered by a crude cut oaken circle that swung outward on a hinge and the walls now adorned with little wooden shuttered holes.

You admired the half-made fireplace in the centre of the room, next to the DIY wooden table and the slowly burgeoning food prep area, before turning to the bed.

The mattress was completely drowning in silken blankets and silken pillows, and the floor beside it was now adorned with the pelt of a stag he’d killed. You knew autumn was approaching and it would only get colder, hence the focus on conserving heat, and while you didn’t want to jinx the relationship you enjoyed planning for the future.

You did feel a little bad since almost all these changes were only for your benefit. You had to preserve heat in this empty forest, but Miguel with his soft fluffy abdomen could remain shirtless all year round.

Your eyes softened affectionately at just the thought. Such a beautiful creature. He was a sight to behold when he stepped out into the cold dawn, where the heat of his muscles created a misty sheen of steam and his white breath curling around his fangs.

‘Arañita!’

You jumped in place as Miguel’s voice echoed from below for a second time. Shit, you’d been daydreaming about him so much you’d forgotten to go down. With fumbling hands you grabbed your bag and rushed out the open door.

‘COMING!’

Where once there was only a short sticky rope to descend from his home there was now a generous ladder, allowing you to easily clamber down to the floor.

Miguel was waiting, patient as ever, his legs gently tapping on the dirt as you approached.

‘Alright! I’m here, sorry. Had some- difficulty with the suit’ you called.

‘Ah, arañita. There you are.’ The joy that lit up his face every time he saw you never failed to make your legs weak.

‘Yep! Here I am.’

‘You look wonderful in that suit, by the way’ he noted as you rushed to his side. You took the time to scoff as you grabbed handfuls of his fur, using it as leverage to drag your body onto his back. His fluff was soft where it brushed your skin, and he smelled like grass dew and wet hair.

‘Oh my god- I knew it, you designed the suit to be too tight on me, didn’t you?’

‘I- well, yes. Is that an issue? Is it uncomfortable?’

You landed on his abdomen with an ‘oomph’ and shuffled forward, settling on his back like a great horse. Your hands wrapped themselves tight around his broad waist.

‘No, but- come on. Little bit pervy.’

‘I thought that was the nature of our relationship’ he argued. He tried desperately to catch your eye but in doing so began spinning in little circles, chasing his back as you continuously ducked out of the way. You took great pleasure in making him spin. ‘I like to look at you, yes. I get great physical joy from admiring your form. You are my mate. I thought this was normal. Is that not normal?’

‘Oh my god Mig—alright, come on! No more wasting daylight hours! Go! Go! Git!’

You gently and playfully kicked his side, urging him onward like a horse, but a firm glare from his bloody red eyes quickly brought you down into an apologetic cower.

‘Sorry! Sorry, uh- shall we, shall we go, darling? At your own discretion?’

He gave a curt nod and began strolling upward into the forest.

Today, he was finally taking you hunting.

The woods, once terrifying and unknowable to you, were slowly becoming a comforting norm. You gazed up at the dizzyingly high pines as Miguel walked upward to where the trees grew sparse and wide.

The early morning daylight trickled down in thin rays, their glow highlighting the tiny specks of dust and flitting little bugs as they passed you by.

This place felt old, untouched. It was cool beneath the heavy canopy above. You could hear nothing but the distant chirps of birds and the occasional creaking of an old tree. As you passed beneath those silent giants you clutched Miguel a little tighter.

‘You were talking in your sleep last night’ you whispered. Mig jumped. You’d been walking for almost ten minutes now in abject silence, so your voice was a surprise.

‘Ah- what was that, mi tesoro?’ he whispered back once he’d regained his composure. You bit down the urge to giggle.

‘Oh, sorry, um- you were talking in your sleep last night. That’s all I said.’

‘I was?’

‘Mhm. It’s very cute. You kept kicking your legs, kicking them and grunting, then you said something like don’t run so fast little one or wait for me and um- I think then you just kinda settled and went back to sleep. Like I said, very cute.’

Miguel rolled his shoulders as he continued strolling onward. You couldn’t tell from here what he was thinking.

‘Mm. I don’t- remember my dreams anymore, but, I know that they’re vivid. I remember the feelings but not the events. So- huh. I wonder what I dreamed about?’

‘I should stay up and keep an eye on you, try and sus it out’ you teased. He managed a breathy little snort of a laugh in response.

‘Ah, I’m not sure about that. What if I say something in my dreams that I shouldn’t?’

‘Oh, pft- like what? You gonna say someone else’s name? you don’t know anyone else, well except Miguel maybe, and if you said his name my first thought wouldn’t be that.’

‘I could still- imply something embarrassing’ he said with a shrug. You’d broached the top of the hills by this point and behind you the view was extraordinary, with small windows in the canopy giving you a perfect view of the city in the distance. Mig paused to turn and look at it with you mid conversation.

‘I could- I don’t know, admit some, sexual fetish I hadn’t even realized yet, some- deep interest in the back of my mind.’

You sighed as you rested on his bicep. With your arms still tight around his waist you gave him an affirming little squeeze. ‘You idiot’ you teasingly chided, ‘you admit everything to me anyway. This morning you immediately confessed that you designed my clothes for your own delight, and- wait, yeah, literally the FIRST day you started rutting you sat me down and told me in great detail your sexual fantasy. You are too honest to be worried about this.’

Another guttural choke escaped his throat, his strange little laugh that now filled you with joy to hear. ‘You are right, as always, my tesoro. I suppose it’s just my anxiety. I- suppose I’m just not used to anyone else being around when I sleep. It’s strangely vulnerable, no?’

‘Yeah, yeah. It’s weird, but, It’s nice though, right?’

You felt his fur bristle beneath you, the strands brushing your leg. Oh, you thought, that meant he was upset about something, right? But, why?

‘Is it?’ he murmured.

You turned and leaned around his torso to try and see his face more clearly, but right as you did so he turned himself and began walking deeper.

‘Hey, is something up?’ you gently pushed.

‘Ah, it… Sometimes- you pull away, at night, when we’re… cuddling.’ The way his voice dipped on the word cuddling, like he was embarrassed to be saying it in front of you. God, he was so sweet. ‘You shuffle away and I wake up without you. I- was worried you were uncomfortable with me.’

‘Oh, I love cuddling Mig! But doesn’t it bother you when you’re trying to sleep? I keep waking myself up because when I roll in my sleep you’re there and I keep thinking I’ll wake you up too.’

He let out a soft ‘humpf’ sound in response, clearly surprised by your response. ‘Ah- I don’t believe so. I haven’t slept any worse since you arrived, except, occasionally waking to check you’re okay.’

‘Oh. Huh. Well, you are… Big? I suppose is the best word? Big ol’ guy, you probably don’t feel me as much. But, like I was saying, I’m just not used to feeling something beside me when I sleep. I’m adjusting my brain to it, that’s all. it doesn’t mean I dislike you or dislike cuddling. We’re just uh- finding boundaries, now we live together.’

He seemed to perk up at the reminder that you were, technically, living together. Living together as partners, a concept he thought he would only ever dream out. He did a little rustle before bounding through the trees.

‘Alright, well, we’re almost there. Let me get you something to eat, mi arañita’

True to his word Mig became utterly focused on the hunt from that point onward.

He bayed you to settle down in the roots of a tree while he got into position, somewhere far enough to dampen your scent but close enough that you could see. He seemed desperate to have you witness him being productive, and you were curious enough to go along with his whims.

In this part of the forest the trees were sparser, allowing more vegetation to cover the dry earth. Miguel had said this gave him more cover for ambush, but you were still stumped as to how this giant man was supposed to hide himself even in the thickest growth. Even when pressed to the floor he was huge, as wide as he was long, covered in bright red and black fur.

Surely a deer would see that, right? Curiosity got the better of you, and you settled down in the roots to watch.

Mig started by feeling the vibrations in the dirt. He tapped at the floor, shuffling back and forth as he listened for something far beyond the scope of your own senses. You saw his eyes widen a few times, indicating that he’d felt something in the distance, and once he seemed sure he began the next unusual stage of this dance.

He dug. He dug into the earth with his enormous legs, filling out a small burrow in which his body could just about fit. He used his legs to drag foliage over his head, masking his scent and his body, until even you could barely see him at all.

And there, he waited. He waited, and waited, as clouds came to cover the sun. He waited in the gloom while you picked at your nails, waiting with a patience that frankly scared you to your core, until you both heard it.

A snap. A twig breaking.

A stag had entered the woods. Immediately you shuffled downward, lying as still as possible in the roots. Mig didn’t move an inch.

The stag was sniffing at the ground as it approached. You were certain that it would smell the enormous spider lying in wait, but somehow it just kept drifting closer and closer. You could see its head dipping to push through the grass, its snout flexing and snorting. Its breath condensed hard in the cool air.

Every muscle in your body tensed. You watched, your heart racing, as the stag went to sniff right over Migs head.

CRACK.

You jumped in your skin as he pounced.

It was terrifying. It was pure, primal, a spectacle of undiluted power. He moved with a speed that seemed impossible for something of his size, so large and yet so nimble, as his legs propelled him out of the dirt and onto the beast. It tried to run but his claws caught its neck.

With the sheer weight of his body he brought the bleating giant down. You saw a flash of his eyes, blood red with a single white pupil, right before he clamped his jaws on its neck.

It was over in seconds. The moment the deer stopped moving you scrambled out of the roots to join him.

‘Holy- shit, you’re so fast!’

Mig unclamped the catch with a soft grunt. You could see the blood on his jaw and neck which he immediately smeared with the back of his hand before facing you. He had such a strangely shy smile on his face.

‘Oh- you saw! You saw it. What did you think?’

‘It was… terrifying! Wow! You are- so, strong!’ you said with an awkward laugh. You left out how weirdly enjoyable it was to see him at full strength, to have witnessed the power and carnage he was capable of.

His grin widened as he took your comment at face value. ‘Thank you, arañita. That- makes me happy. I like showing you that I can be of use.’

‘Oh, Mig you idiot.’

You leaned in and affectionately touched his hair, gently brushing back the thick curls. He almost purred at the touch. ‘Now- jesus, let’s get you cleaned up and get home.’

You used a strip of silk from your back to try and clear his face, though he kept nestling into your hand which made it difficult to finish. Something about hunting for you seemed to make him especially soft. He would tap his feet for attention and rustle against you, and you would tut at him while secretly enjoying his touch.

That peaceful downtime did not last long though. As you were brushing yourself down, preparing to head back down, you noticed that Mig had stopped pacing. When you turned to check on him his eyes were wide.

‘Mig?’ you said softly. He didn’t move. You watched with ever growing curiosity as he began to dart his gaze across the forest line, almost as if he was looking for something. You followed his line of sight but could see nothing yourself.

It was only then, on the cusp of your lips parting to question Mig on what he was doing, that your senses picked up the same thing he had.

Your eyes locked in a moment of shared terror.

Footsteps. Distant footsteps, growing closer with every step. Idle chit chat that echoed in the trees, something about being lost and forgetting the map. You sensed a flask on an overstuffed backpack slowly clinking against a metal keychain.

‘Hikers’ you hissed. Mig gave a silent nod.

No, no, no. This was bad, you thought. What were people doing this far out? Why today of all days?

You didn’t want to risk a run in with civilians. You knew Mig was safe, but you also remembered how you’d acted the first time you saw him, and more importantly you remembered his distress at being seen.

Without another word you jumped into action, hopping his back in one fell swoop while he grabbed the kill by the nape of its hide. He lifted it as easily as a cat carrying a kitten, a feat you barely had time to appreciate, as he broke into a canter the moment you were mounted.

In silence you hurried back down the way you’d come.

For about half the way down it seemed to be smooth sailing. Mig made easy progress through the woods, his eight legs silently tapping back and forth on the mulchy earth as you descended to home. Your senses could feel the hikers getting further and further away.

In no time at all you saw the glade appear at the bottom of the hill, a tiny little circle in a sea of evergreen pines slowly sinking downward. You let out a contented sigh.

But then you felt it.

You felt It.

That foreboding tug in your gut. The gentle throbbing that sank down through your insides, the pulsing of blood as your heart sped up. The yearning, the need, the subconscious addictive pleading for satisfaction.

No, no, no, NO. You couldn’t stop here, right? The hikers weren’t far enough away yet.

You shuffled, trying to secretly suppress it, when Miguel abrupted stumbled to a halt himself. You heard him drop the stag with a thump.

Shit. You could smell it. It was heavy in the air, a smell you couldn’t describe with words but which you felt in your loins. He was rutting too.

Your eyes rolled. Oh that smell, it gave you goosebumps. That smell alone dragged you to him like a magnetic force.

‘Arañita?’

His words were soft as he spoke. Those were dangerous words, hungry words.

‘Mig?’

You felt so small on his back as his shoulders arched. You had to tilt your head to see his face, to see the bright glow of his eyes as his head instinctively tilted sideways. You balked. Those eyes were fucking starving.

‘Mig’ you breathed.

His abdomen vibrated softly, rustling against your skin in a way that sent pleasurable shivers through your thighs and spine. You shuddered against him. ‘Mig, don’t—careful—’

He breathed out hard, his breath condensing in the air. ‘Ah… Arañita …’

It curled like smoke around his bloody maw. His full lips parted and he breathed in through the mouth, releasing a dark and foreboding growl. ‘Ah…’

‘Mig—we need to get back—’

He was breathing heavier now. You could see his enormous spider legs quivering as he fought the urge slowly infecting his mind. The urge to pin, to fill, to penetrate, to feel. The urge to claim. The urge to see your pretty form, naked and sweating and shaking as you struggled to take him, as you were fucked to the brim with his very being.

When he huffed smoke for a second time a breathy moan escaped his throat. It was a mating call, plain and simple, echoing through the trees.

‘Mig… Mig…’

It was pitiful; your pleading had gone from genuine concern to depraved praise as you whispered his name over and over again. While you pleaded Mig struggled to focus on his senses. His body was begging, screaming even, to take you now, but he could just feel the hikers still approaching their location.

‘We need- to get back- to the nest’ he panted. You didn’t even respond.

At this point you were broken, involuntarily grinding your hips into his fur for any semblance of relief. Your body was burning to the point that sweat was sticking your suit to the contours of your skin, highlighting every little dip and curve.

‘Miggy—’

‘Arañita!’

His bark of an order made you mewl.

‘We need- to get back—’

‘O-Okay’ you whined. Slowly, painfully, Miguel began to continue his walk down the hillside towards the glade.

It was agony. You’d gotten so used to instant gratification that pushing through the need was now hellish, especially combined with the need to run.

It was an itchy heat, a prickling heat, and as your blood began to pump you felt your insides begin to pulsate. Throb after throb, each harder than the last, as every muscle inside you twitched and tensed around a cock that wasn’t there.

You could feel his body beneath you. You could sense him, feel him in every part of your body. All you could think about was feeling more, tasting more, as that desperate curdling need to feel his cock inside you flooded all of your senses. It was physically unbearable.

‘Don’t’ your mind screamed as you pulled at his fur.

‘Don’t do it’ his mind pleaded as he forced himself forward.

But you were no match for each other’s potent smell. No risk, not even death, felt important compared to that burning ache.

You collapsed from his body and into the dirt with a low moan, unable to maintain yourself any longer. Miguel descended on you in seconds.

You squeaked and squirmed as he gripped you in his claws. He pounced like you were prey. He flipped and thrust your body down onto its back, his gruff hands immediately pinning your arms to the floor. The frail little bones in your wrists screamed out at the pressure.

‘Mig!’

He hissed and flexed his teeth on your neck, hot breath cascading over your skin as the smell of musky hormones and blood filled your nose.

‘I can’t- wait—’ he panted. You could already feel his abdomen rubbing and grinding on you, his slit unable to contain his erection any longer. You could feel the thick, warm shaft smearing your new suit with his thick, pearly pre-cum. ‘I need- you, please- I need it- it hurts—’

You knew it was dangerous, but your brain was a melted pot of red hot lust. You couldn’t fight it anymore. With a soft whine you lay back and turned your head to the side, frantically nodding for him to continue.

‘Okay, fuck—I can’t wait, fuck—just, be quick, please’ you panted.

He didn’t even bother to fully undress you. With a hiss he bent and ripped a hole in your suit with his mouth, a dangerous tactic as his teeth brushed your pussy lips as he tore the silk aside. He took one deep sniff of your pheremones before physically dragging your body into position.

He forced your legs into a mating press, his hefty torso straining the muscles in your thighs to bend to his will. He rustled slightly as he pushed into position, roughly edging his bulbous member against your slit, and as you felt the first inch spreading you open you knew it was over.

‘Okay, okay’ he panted, ‘shh- sh, stay still for me arañita, let me just—fill you—’

He thrust, hard, and with one excruciatingly tight stretch he was inside you again.

‘M-MM--!’ Your hips bucked and tensed, rocking from side to side as you struggled to adjust. Miguel gasped like he’d just avoided drowning.

‘Ah—ahh—that’s it, that’s it. I’ll be- quick, just- stay still, mi tesoro, I’ve got you. I’ve got you.’

The moment he entered you he started to frantically rut to completion, his abdomen jerking back and forth as he fucked you into the dirt. Your fingers dug into his arms.

‘MM--!’ It was painful to hold back your screams. You had to bite your tongue until it bled, until the taste of iron filled your mouth and nose, all in a vain attempt to not be caught. He was so fucking rough.

‘Sweet little spider’ he whined. You felt him thrust a little deeper and squirmed with joy at the familiar mixture of ache and pleasure.

‘It’s… ‘S so good’ you whispered in a needy, whiney breath. ‘So—good…’

Desperate now to finish quickly, Miguel angled himself a little further back. He needed the one thing that he couldn’t resist, his most primal indulgence. He wanted to see it. Your small, soft, sweet human body, perfectly impaled on his enormous shaft. The sight sent full body shivers through his spine.

‘So… tight…’

He looked utterly pussy drunk, mesmerised almost. He watched your slick coat his cock as he drew back, those translucent sticky strings hanging between his abdominal fur and your pretty little slit. They made his black veins glisten as they pulsed against your swollen cunt.

‘Mi… aranita…’

He stared, unblinking, as he moved his hand and began touching the spot where he’d entered you. He brushed his thumb down and across your swollen clit, those wet and messy folds, until it came to rest where his shaft was splitting you open. He watched you swallow him whole.

‘Pretty, pretty little spider’ he whispered. ‘F-fuck…’  

He watched your hips jolt as he gave a few short pumps about halfway in, fixated on the way you stretched and wriggled with pleasure. His previous seed was now oozing out at the sides as he pumped in and out, just adding to the absolute mess you were making.

‘So, so… pretty…’

You felt his claws suddenly hit your neck, pressing you down until you were forced to be still. He continued to watch with wide and unblinking eyes as his thick rod squished back and forth, back and forth, filling you until you bulged before slowly slipping out with a wet pop.

‘Mm- mm—’

He was grunting hard as he moved.

‘So, fucking, pretty—’

‘Is it this way?’

Your whole body went rigid at the sound of unfamiliar voices, but you didn’t even have time to process your shock, because Miguel didn’t stop.

Even as the voices got louder he continued rutting you into the floor, his breathy grunts just barely audible in the rustling undergrowth.

You silently slapped at his arm but he couldn’t bring himself to pause. He impulsively clamped his hand over your mouth, his eyes deadly and starved as they stared down at your panicked expression.

‘Stay. Quiet’ he mouthed. Despite your fear, you were just as needy. You let him have you.

He bent your legs into your ribs just to slip deeper, his thick shaft eagerly kissing and smearing your cervix with pre-cum. Your breath was hot on his calloused hand as it muffled your desperate moans.

Despite his rational mind knowing that he needed to be quiet, Mig’s carnal desperation was driving him towards risky behaviour. You could hear the clap of his skin between your thighs echo with each wet pop as he pushed in and out, a symphony just as terrifying as it was erotic.

You watched him savor the feel of your body. You watched him as he experienced you.

‘Ah—ahh—ah—’

He flexed his jaw until it hurt trying to suppress his cries of pleasure, and in a second moment of impulse he bent down and sank his fangs into your shoulder. Your squeaks were silenced.

Now clamped by the terrifying power of his maw you were utterly surrendered. You could feel his teeth moving in tandem with his cock, filling and shifting inside you, flooding you with that same potent mixture of pain and pleasure.

You raked your fingers down his back, drawing red lines into his rough scarred skin. He dug his claws into the dirt.

The footsteps got closer, but there was no breaking free. You were trapped together. With a muffled grunt Miguel sped up to completion.

‘MMFF—’

He came inside you silently, with all his gutteral noises muffled by your skin. You felt it all the same. The heavy spurts, the hot seed flooding in and squirting against his soft underside when your cunt ran out of room. You were filled until you bulged.

In the high of that release you were nearly dizzy. Your eyes fluttered shut as your hormones overpowered any rational fear about being seen. All you could do was lull and whine, relishing the sweet gratification of being filled again.

‘Mig’ you whispered. ‘My Mig. You—’

Snap.

Your eyes shot open.

You tilted your head, slowly, just enough for your eyes to roll and spy the woods behind you. Two hikers were frozen in place, their bodies just barely obscured by the trunk of a pine.

They were staring at you. You, your body pinned beneath the torso of your half spider mate, still fully impaled on his monstrous cock, with your head in his neck and your flesh in his maw.

Your blood ran cold as your body tensed. To say you were mortified was an understandment, it felt like your heart might give out. You felt Miguel’s breath steaming against your shoulder as he panted into it. Did he know? Had he realized?

You opened your mouth but no sound spare a painful squeak escaped. Your brain was utterly fried.

The one to break the tension then was Mig, who decided to release your shoulder and stare directly at the two strangers. Mouth bloodied, eyes red, his naked body straining and panting for air.

Their reaction was swift.

‘FUCK!’

The two hikers almost fell over each other as they ran, both frantically fleeing for their lives into the overgrown brush.

‘JESUS- CHRIST, WHAT WAS THAT?!’

‘WAS IT EATING THEM?!’

‘F-Fuck, FUCK! I DON’T KNOW JUST- GO!’

‘We have to call for help—’

‘JUST RUN JUST- FUCKING RUN!!’

As the screams grew distant, you felt Miguel slowly pull out. His hands were quick to plug you up and carefully stitch your suit back together at the crotch, but you were too exhausted to move.

‘Shhiittt.’

It was the only thing you could think to say as you lay back in the mud, your head still a little woozy from the whole experience. Mig just grunted.

‘Shit, shit, shit. Ah…. I’m- I’m sure it’s fine. It’s fine. I- fuck, are you okay Mig?’

He grunted again as he lifted you up into his arms. His spider legs hooked the stag’s carcass and carefully manoeuvred it onto his back, allowing him to begin the short final trek back to the clearing with you still in his arms. The longer he went without saying a word, the more you began to worry.

‘Mig?’

You patted his cheek as he walked, trying in vain to get his attention. His only response was to sigh.

‘It’s okay’ you said, your voice now rather timid. ‘It’s fine, they- we probably won’t ever see them again. And hey, we didn't have to fight them! That's good, right? They just- left.’

‘It’s not that.’

You were surprised when words finally left his mouth, especially when they were delivered so sadly. He was blunt, yes, but not usually this melancholy, especially after sex.

‘What is it then?’ you asked. It took him a few more seconds to reply.

‘They thought… I was eating you’ he murmured. ‘If I’d been anyone else, they wouldn’t have screamed. We would have been- yelled at, perhaps, or chastised for being perverts. Maybe they’d have just, awkwardly moved away. But they would never have assumed I was eating you.’

The sombre reality sank in slowly. Somehow, you’d both forgotten the reality of what this was. What he was. You tried to shrug it off. ‘Wait, that’s what you’re worried about? I mean… If you were just, purely human, they might have still assumed you were murdering me. People can do murder too yanno.’

He managed a small, throaty chuckle at your light teasing, but it was strained. He looked distant, distracted, alone in his own mind. You gently shook his arm to drag him back down to reality.

‘Hey. It’s fine. You’re fine’ you repeated.

‘Does it not, bother you? The way they reacted?’

‘Mig I would have been mortified to be caught like that whether you were fully human or not’ you scoffed. He seemed unconvinced.

‘If they’d- seen us, holding hands’ he said, slowly musing over the theoretical aloud, ‘if they’d seen us… kissing, or even just sitting together, they would have run. They would still be terrified.’

It was hard to maintain a smile in the face of his dour prediction. You knew he was right, but you didn’t want to simmer in that pool of despair, and you didn’t want him to wallow in it either.

‘People- when they see something they don’t understand, they, react like animals. Sometimes they run, sometimes they fight. They squash it so you don’t have to think about it. It’s easier.’

That morbid thought made him wince, but you refused to let go. You leaned in and tilted his head back towards you.  

‘And it’s horrible. It’s horrible, and it hurts, but then there’s other people. Other people, who- know what it’s like, to be the- scared little spider on the wall. And they know, Mig. They knew. I know. And I’m not scared of you.’

To your joy he managed to shoot you a ghost of a smile, just the barest tilting of his lips. It was enough for you, even if you’d only managed to distract him for a bit.

‘Besides, who do we have to disappoint?’ you said in an attempt to lighten to mood. ‘I don’t have friends to introduce you too, or family, or co-workers. You’re alone. We don’t need to worry about what people think.’

‘You say that now, arañita, but… I don’t know, I don’t feel like that will remain true forever. I also don’t appreciate you indulging my possessive nature.’

‘Awh, what? How, what did I do?’

‘Implying we’re all we’ve got’ he said softly. ‘It makes me- happy, but on some level, I know it shouldn’t.’

‘Well, hey! You know it shouldn’t, so- you know, that’s a start.’

Mig ducked his head beneath a row of branches as he re-entered the clearing. In the clear, bright light of the burgeoning sun he looked glorious.

‘Yes, but—I also know that I willingly ignore that fact and, pretend it is acceptable’ he confessed with a slight shrug. ‘Because- well, it comforts me, especially when I’m reminded that we are… different, to put it nicely.’

‘Well, as long as you’re not getting feisty, huh? I’ll just be sure to let you know if it ever gets annoying’ you offered. You pressed your face against his pec, right over his heart, and tapped it like you were making a promise. He gave you that sweet little ghost of a smile.

‘Very well, mi tesoro. I will hold you to that.’

You allowed Mig to drop the kill near the base of the nest before climbing back in with you still in his arms. You lulled a little in the sudden warmth, placated by the warm orange rays of sunlight warming the floor, and the moment he slid you onto the bed you collapsed into it.

‘Mmm… Yanno, that was the first time we were under such pressure from the heat that you didn’t make me orgasm’ you noted with a yawn. It was more a dry observation than a real problem you had, but it immediately caused Mig to bristle in horror.

‘I- oh, no you’re right. You poor little spider.’

‘It’s okay! I don’t blame you, it—HEY!’

You squealed with delight as he dove onto the mattress, his weight flinging your body a few feet into the air before landing back into his already outstretched arms.

‘Let me fix that’ he purred, his breath brushing your ear. ‘Please, mi aranita, let me taste you again.’

With an eager grunt his lips met yours, his abdomen rustling with excitement as his tongue went down your throat. You were smothered in seconds.

You gave in to his whining need to please and relished in the chance to scream again, your wet lips quivering his name with each breath as he tore your third new suit to pieces for just a lick of your cunt.

You were too focused on his mouth to notice anything as you tossed every item of clothing to the floor. Between his whiny moans and your own panting, you couldn’t have possibly heard anything else.

You certainly couldn’t have heard your society watch as it buzzed against the fur rug, the name ‘Jess’ highlighted in clear orange light. It was left to ring to voicemail instead, with neither of you aware it’d even gone off. Link to next part!

[lulublack90]

Prompt 15 - Drive

@jegulus-microfic May 15, Word count 734

Previous part First part

“Stop fiddling with it,” James warned as he watched Regulus poke the leaf with his tongue. 

“I can’t help it,” Regulus whined. Over the past few weeks, Regulus had opened up a bit to James and, apparently, underneath all that snark, he was a whiny little brat. Just like his brother. James honestly didn’t know how he coped with both of them. “Are you going to get the dew tonight?” Regulus asked, finally done with prodding at the leaf. 

“Mmhmm,” James nodded. He’d have to go into the forest this evening to be able to walk far enough in to find somewhere human feet or sunlight had never touched, and he’d be exhausted by the time he got back to the castle, but he’d cleverly picked a weekend to do it so no one would notice if he slept in.

A cold wind had swept over the grounds and only James’s sheer will kept the invisibility cloak from soaring off into the darkening grounds. He swore he spent most of his time out here when it was dark. 

Once he was hidden by the tree line, the wind couldn't hit him as hard. He whipped off the cloak and stuffed it into his robes. He walked a bit further in before transforming into the magnificent stag, as his white tail would be a beacon in the gloom for anyone watching. 

It felt good to be Prongs. His feet, while dainty, were strong and somehow always knew where to step, even on the most uneven ground. He had to be careful of his antlers catching on low branches, but he’d gotten pretty good at running through the forest and not letting that happen. His ears pricked as a knarl scuttled out from the undergrowth, snorted at him and continued on its way. He wasn’t sure if it knew he was an animagus or if it just didn’t like stags. Either way, it was gone now. He picked up the jar he’d brought with him between his teeth and walked into the gloom. 

He’d selected a wide-brimmed specimen jar, so that he could easily manoeuvre it in his animal form. Remus had even marked on the side of it how much he’d need to collect to fill seven teaspoons. Remus had also added a stiff handle that he could grasp it with his teeth.

It took him hours to get into a part of the forest where the undergrowth was so thick a human would give up trying to get through it and so dark he couldn’t see the sky. It was perfect. 

Lucky for him, Prongs’s legs walked over the undergrowth as though it were nothing. He found a plant with huge leaves and dropped the jar beside it. Now for the hard part. He lowered himself to the ground and with his teeth grabbed the giant cork protruding out of the neck and yanked it free. 

He placed it under one of the huge leaves and gently shook the leaf. A few drops fell into the jar. He tried again and soon had all the dew off that leaf safe in the jar. He moved on to the next one. 

It took him far longer to collect enough dew than it had to get through the forest. The amount of dew had just risen above the line Remus had drawn, when his ears twitched and his body tensed. There was something here with him and his animal self was telling him to run. He fought it and waited. 

Silently, he replaced the jar's cork and held the handle tightly between his teeth. 

A twig snapped close by and the drive to flee became too much. He spun around and fled. 

A roar followed him as he darted between trees with his head down. He had no idea what had been stalking him, but he wasn’t hanging around to find out. He didn’t dare look back and pushed on. His jaw clamped down hard as he leapt into the air over a fallen branch, and continued running. 

The relief that flooded him when he broke through the tree line and the morning sun-soaked castle burst into view was indescribable. 

He trotted over to the greenhouses and transformed. He was sweaty and exhausted but as he held up the jar in front of himself, a huge grin spread across his face. He hadn’t spilt a drop.  

Next part

[scotianostra]

September 2nd 1724 Maggie Dickson climbed the gallows in Edinburgh's Grassmarket, ready to take “The last drop”

Her downfall came when she got pregnant and tried to conceal the fact. Maggie’s husband had deserted her to work in the Fisheries in Newcastle in Northern England.

Consequently she had to leave Edinburgh and moved to Kelso in the south of Scotland. Whilst there she had an affair with an innkeepers son.

As the Innkeeper was her employer she felt compelled to keep the pregnancy quiet as she would lose her job. Tragically the baby died after being born prematurely and she decided to dispose of the body. She intended to cast it into the River Tweed but instead left it on the riverbank. It was soon found and the authorities quickly determined that Maggie was the mother. At that time such an action in Scotland contravened the 'Concealment of Pregnancy Act' of 1690 which made it tantamount to murder.

"Her reason for concealing the birth of the child was for fear of being made a public example in the church, and a laughing-stock to all her neighbours The legal and religious institutions were severe on women concerning matters of their pregnancy. Even the natural occurrences of miscarriage or still-born infants could incur the wrath of the law.

And so it was, Maggie was tried, convicted and sentenced to hang. The execution took place on the 2nd September 1724 in the Grassmarket area of Edinburgh. This was the favoured location for hangings at that time and normally took place on market day to ensure a sizeable crowd.

Her body was then taken in a coffin for burial to the town of Musselburgh which was east of Edinburgh. Apparently this was only after an unseemly scuffle between her family and local medical students keen for a young body to dissect. The corpses of the condemned were regularly passed to the Schools of Anatomy in the name of science in the 18th century.

The family had their way and took possession of Maggie's remains for burial. They set off on the journey and on the way stopped off at a pub for some refreshments in the Peffer Mill area. All of a sudden there came a knocking and banging on the coffin lid from the inside. Astonished, they opened up the coffin to discover that she was not dead.

Miraculously it seemed that Maggie Dickson had not succumbed to the gallows but had cheated death at the hands of the law. She was alive and well as confirmed by a local gardener on the scene who cut a vein to check for a flow of blood. After spending a night to recover Maggie actually walked back to Musselburgh the next day.

But what would happen next? As the death certificate had already been issued it was impossible to re-execute Maggie. This was because Scots Law is based on Roman Pandects and in this case it prohibited further action. Therefore the King's Advocate could not pursue the matter any further.

Instead he filed against the Edinburgh Sheriff in the High Court of Justiciary for not efficiently conducting the public execution. The ruling also meant that as Maggie was technically dead then her marriage was dissolved.

Furthermore, the prevailing opinion amongst people in Edinburgh considered her survival to be the result of divine intervention. Local people believed it had been 'God's will' that had spared her from an early grave.

Rumours persist that she actually seduced the ropemaker and convinced him to make the noose weak enough not to kill her. We will never know if that's the truth.

Whatever the facts of her hanging Maggie lived for another 40 years and had many children. Her husband remarried her despite that fact that she now sported rope burns and her neck was permanently crooked for the rest of her life. She is said to have ran an alehouse in Musselburgh for the rest of her life.

If you have ever visited Edinburgh’s Grassmarket you will have no doubt seen the names of the bars have a historical connection, The White Hart connects with King David I and his encounter with a White Stag, The Last Drop is of course a nod to the execution place and Maggie Dickson is for our erstwhile subject today, who the people of Edinburgh remember as “ Half-hangit Maggie “

[starks-hero]

Oh, Little Horned One of the Old Oak Tree

Pairing: Steven Grant x Reader

Summary: Becoming the avatar of an ancient Celtic god came with some unforeseen side affects; side affects which you are yet to tell Steven about.

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: language, slight body horror if you squint, Steven is a ridiculously supportive boyfriend in the face of fuckery and we love him for it

a/n: giving the reader a supportive god/avatar relationship because it's what they deserve

It's not that you hadn't tried to clean the blood, you'd done your best. But it stained the tips of your fingers and left the porcelain tiles of the bathroom a dark red.

You weren't entirely sure where it had all come from, but the damp, matted hair surrounding where the antlers had sprouted from your head served as a good indicator.

It shouldn't be happening, not yet. You had at least another fortnight till the next eclipse, (if your notes were anything to go by.) But you knew the moment your muscles began to ache and your bones began to creak that it was indeed happening, and it wasn't going to stop regardless of how upset it made you.

You'd tried to call Jake. Then Marc. But you didn't want to risk Steven answering the phone.

The bathroom was the closest refuge you could find and as it would seem it was far from the most ideal of places. You'd torn down the shower curtain in your haste to hide and all but shattered the delicate tiles beneath your feet.

The mirror had also fallen victim to your havoc, an almost artistically applaudable webbed crack spreading out from the centre of the glass where your elbow had made contact. A handful of rouge shards littered the floor and made quick work of slicing open your palm.

You glared at the offending piece of glass before picking it out of your hand and throwing it across the room with enough force that it was embedded in the opposite wall like a well-aimed dart.

You could still make out your reflection through the broken glass pane. Antlers sprouting from the crown of your head, winding off in all different directions. There was a pale glow to your eyes and ruins and ancient symbols wrapped around your arms and the expanse of your chest. And if your abundance of new features hadn't already qualified you for your own Magic: The Gathering card, you'd also doubled in height.

This would be a fucking delight to explain.

You took a moment to thank the gods for Stevens's late shift at the museum before steadying yourself with a deep breath.

You'd felt every bit of it; the stretching, twisting and growing of entirely new bones. And if the persistent pain in your chest and spine was anything to go by you figured it was far from over.

You could hear the deep, resonant voice of your deity, distant and far off, like rushing water over rock. His words were gruff and shaped by his accent as he apologized profusely; and as ego-boosting as it was having an eldritch being admit defeat and practically beg for your forgiveness, you found yourself in too much pain to truly enjoy the moment.

“Cernunnos,” you cursed the god's name.

Your legs were still crammed uncomfortably against your chest and the bathroom door whilst your antlers continued to do a glorious job of scrapping the paint job off the ceiling.

Another wave of pain hit, burning through your veins and seizing hold of your lungs. You coughed and spluttered, each attempt at a breath snagging in your throat like leaves catching on dead branches. The horrid sensation of shifting bones hit your chest and you doubled over with a hiss.

“Please make it stop.”

“I'm sorry, fia beag,” (little deer) the god said, his reflection appearing in the mirror shards. His antlers filled out the frame, putting your own to shame and his eyes, (despite, like the rest of his body, being those of a stag, which as far as species go aren't the most emotionally expressive–) were almost apologetic. “I've tried my best, I asked Manannan to reverse the tides to change the lunar phase and buy us time but it's too late.”

It was heartwarming really; how Cernnunos cared so much, enough to ask a fellow god to inconvenience the entire ocean all in the name of saving your love life. You were glad to have him, even if he was the reason you were going through pain worse than fucking childbirth.

“I'm sorry.” The god's ears flattened against his head and you wondered if you'd said the last part aloud.

“What's the point of all this again?” You'd shifted before but it was never irregular and never this bad.

“A thousand years ago my worshipers adored when my avatar arrived at Imbolc in this form!” Cernnunos sounded excited.

“So it was to show off?”

“To make the people feel seen and protected,” he countered.

“And it's something I have to go through because–?”

The god was quiet for a moment. “Old habits die hard?”

Cernnunos had off-handedly mentioned (downright bragged) about the pact he'd made with the moon sometime before the construction of Newgrange. That his avatar would be gifted with a godly form the night of each lunar eclipse. You weren't well versed in ancient deals between eldritch beings but apparently, it's not the kind of agreement you can back out of a millennia down the line.

And apparently, another moon-related god had initiated an eclipse two weeks ahead of schedule. (your money was on Khonshu over Artemis.)

“It will be alright, little one,” Cernnunos promised. It was soothing having him near, but he tended to have that effect. With him, you were like a fawn, comforted by the knowledge that it was protected by its elder. “Besides, it's not as though this night could get much worse for us.”

Almost comedically, the struggle of key in lock sounded and then the front door opened.

You and the god stared at each other, quite literally, like deers in headlights.

“Love? I'm home–”

Steven's voice sent your flight, fight, freeze response to full throttle and you beckoned for Cernnunos to leave as quietly and frantically as you could. The god seemed reluctant, but another chorus of a British accent from the other side of the door and he relented.

The glass rippled like water on a lake and then he was gone.

You could hear Steven moving around the flat, carrying out his usual routine of removing his name tag, unbuttoning his over shirt and tossing his bag on the couch.

You held your breath when the floorboards of the bedroom creaked and silently prayed he'd just call it a night in favour of finding you hiding in the bathroom looking like something straight from Pans Labyrinth. When he called out for you again you sent your head back against the wall with enough force to crack the tiles.

“Love, you alright?” There was three gentle raps on the door. “Darling?”

“I'm fine,” the words were unsteady. And had your voice gotten deeper?

There was a beat of silence outside the door then, “You don't sound fine.”

“I'm just not feeling great,” you managed. Just go, Steven. Please just go.

“Oh, darling, are you sick? Here let me–” The terrifying sight of the door handle turning caused your heart to almost hammer out of your chest. You rushed to press your foot against it and watched in horror as the timber split right down the middle. The door was barely clinging to the hinges.

You could hear Steven's shock on the other side of the door, a string of curses followed suit. “Y/N–”

“Just leave it, Steven!” you bit out. You hadn't meant for the words to sound so animalistic, so angry. But the only thing currently preventing your life from crumbling was a splintering door and your refusal to move your foot. You were allowed to be rash, you thought.

“Alright, you're scaring me now–”

The universe really wasn't letting up with its ironies today.

The wooden door panels creaked and splintered as Steven tried to open it from the outside. You kept your foot firmly pressed to the middle, but as the hinges began to groan you felt the sturdiness give way. It felt like you had your foot against a wet piece of tissue paper; you were going to tear right through it.

With one more shove from Steven's side, you were forced to surrender.

The door swung open with truly theatrical measure and Steven stumbled in behind it. Instinctually, you pushed yourself against the back wall, forgetting your new height and putting your head through the ceiling as you did.

Chaos is too kind of a word for what followed.

The sound that left Steven fell somewhere between a startled shout and a scream of genuine terror. You reached out and Steven fired back, his feet tying themselves in knots and sending him to the floor.

You struggled to pull your head out of the crater you'd left in the roof. A fine layer of debris and dust covered you and somewhat important-looking wires were strung across your antlers like poorly hung Christmas lights.

Almost on cue, the bathroom light flickered twice and came away from the ceiling, ending up in several pieces on the floor.

The dark apparently did nothing in making you look less menacing as Steven continued to voice his fears. And loudly at that. He hadn't moved, still frozen to the spot just outside the door.

“Steven, please–” you crawled forward at a snail's pace, each movement purposely slow.

He watched you with frantic eyes, his heart hammering like a rabbit against his chest. You'd never seen him so scared.

As he clambered to his feet, you dared to inch closer, but it was the opinion of the shattered tiles beneath your feet that you weren't moving nearly fast enough. You slipped on the porcelain shards and were all but thrown in Steven's direction.

Your rack broke your fall by all but embedding the tips of each spike in the wall surrounding the door frame. You'd put your head through so much wood and plaster in the past few minutes you were beginning to sympathize with mounted deer heads.

Steven was staring now, expression boarding on mild fear and absolute confusion. Then, his eyes flicked to the broken mirror behind you, and then his reflection in the window to his right.

Marc and Jake had taken their sweet time.

Steven looked between you, the mirror and the window and then back at you. Then it visibly clicked.

“Oh, oh my gods, Y/N you, you're-” he swallowed. “-what's happening?”

“It's my time of the month.” The joke went down like a led balloon. Steven swayed on his feet.

“Steven, are you alright?”

“Yeah, sort of. No, not really.”

You craned your neck as far as your current predicament would allow for. “Are you going to pass out?”

“Maybe.”

“Okay,” you said the word beneath your breath. He hadn't run which, all things considered, meant this was going fairly well. Even from the awkward angle you were stuck in you could feel his eyes on you, shifting from one monstrous feature to the next, lingering on the markings and the fucking antlers and the–

“Love, you have blood– you're bleeding.” And just like that, a flip switched in Steven's mind at the sight of you wounded. This man was a true enigma and a wonderful one at that. “Here–”

He approached and then almost immediately hesitated, bouncing back on his heel the moment you shifted.

You weren't exactly a threatening sight, shoulders wedged in the door frame, covered in dust and splintered wood and head practically pinned to the wall. You looked like a drunk stag that had lost a fight to a tree.

Steven shook himself and stepped close enough that your laboured breaths ruffled his curls. He was doing an admirable job of hiding the fact that he was shaking.

“Alright, bloody hell um–” He regarded the situation and then nodded. “I'll push, you pull.”

Steven braced his hands against your shoulders and you grabbed hold of the door frame. It's not that you needed the extra help; out of all the things you'd conquered whilst serving as an avatar freeing yourself from a plaster wall ranked fairly low on that list.

But Steven was touching you in this form, his palms pressed to your broadened shoulders and you weren't about to jinx it.

The wall cracked and fissured as you freed yourself, several deep punctures left where your antlers had been. You twisted and manoeuvred your way out of the bathroom until you could straighten up to your full height.

Thank god Steven lived on the top floor. Higher ceilings.

“Okay, woah–” Steven took several steps back as you stood. You towered over him, antlers bleeding into darkened shadows against the ceiling. Okay, now 'intimidating' might be a more fitting word.

You lowered yourself to your knees in an attempt to seem less frightening. Now that you were eye to eye, Steven could see the worry in your expression as you regarded him softly.

“It's alright. I'm adjusting,” he said, voice still trembling. “Just need a quick adjustment period...”

You gave him time and let him lead.

And that's how you ended up in the kitchen, legs crossed as you sat on the floor whilst Steven sat on the counter in front of you. He held a wet flannel in his hand, droplets of water creeping down his arm.

A dry cloth sat folded on the counter beside him, as well as a box of plasters with 'good job!' written across each one.

It was as if his rationality was being overridden by his need to care for you as well as his overall steveness.

Steven dabbed the crown of your head gently, his hands shaking as he did. There was still a dull ache where the antlers had sprouted. Steven rung out the flannel over the sink and the sight of the blood running through his fingers and over his knuckles made you feel ill. His hands were always so soft, they weren't meant to be stained with blood.

You blinked as a small trail of blood seeped from your head and trailed down between your brows. Steven diligently stopped the flow with the cloth and cleaned you up. Your nose twitched at the dampness of the cloth and Steven smiled.

The first smile you'd seen all night.

His actions slowed, hand stilling as he watched you. Beneath the pale glow of your eyes there was something so familiar. He smiled again.

“Hiya love,” the words were so soft they made you feel warm.

“Hi.”

You raised your arms, the markings and symbols on your skin catching in the dim light. Your hands circled Steven's wrists gently. He pulled back and for a terrifying moment you thought he'd gone completely; deciding that he'd had enough, that you were too much like this and he was drawing the boundary line here.

Instead, he dropped the blood-stained flannel in the sink basin and held his hand back against yours, palms pressed together. It was an adorable comparison. The tips of his fingers barely brushed the top of your palm, in fact, you were certain you could close your hand over the entirety of his own. There was a moment shared in comfortable silence then Steven asked, “Y/N, what is going on?”

The question was gentle and filled with wonder. There was still a trace of a smile on his lips. It made you feel like you could finally tell him.

“Avatar stuff. I suppose my god is a little more... flamboyant than yours.”

Steven laughed and the sound comes as a relief. “Khonshu didn't want to give me the time of day, let alone a– a bloody godly alter ego.”

A beat of silence.

“Did it hurt?”

It was heartwarming that that was his next question.

“A little,” you answered somewhat honestly. “But I'm alright now.”

He finished cleaning you up in a peaceful silence. He took the time to wash the blood from your hair as best he could and plaster your injured hand, (for the emotional boost more than anything.) It took several plasters to cover the expanse of the wound, each overlapping so the supportive catchphrase now read 'good good job good.'

He sat in front of you now, having spent the last few minutes tracing the spirals and patterns on your arm. His earlier fear had completely given way to wonder; it wasn't easy to forget that the man was a mythology nerd through and through.

A boyish laugh crept past his lips. “I wonder how Marc and Jake will react.” He looked up at you to gouge a reaction and his smile fell slightly. “Oh.”

“Steven–” you scratched the back of your neck. This was going to be a bitch to explain. “-Jake only knows because... well–” you made a vague motion with your hands that the four of you had come to recognize meant 'Jake.'

Steven nodded in understanding.

“And Marc just sort of found out by accident.”

Steven nodded again and you could visibly see the process going on behind his eyes.

“And um– why didn't any of you tell me?” His voice adopted a higher pitch at the end of the question, likely in an attempt to take the edge off.

You took a sudden interest in the floorboards. “I didn't want to– you know.”

It was quiet for a moment. Then Steven gasped.

“Oh, oh love, you didn't think... you didn't think I'd be scared did you?”

A quick exhale of amusement from you. “You seemed fairly scared.”

“I- well yeah, yeah.” He conceded. “But not of you. Never of you.” His hands found yours again, the staggering difference in size almost humorous. “I just wish you could have felt like you could have told me, that's all.”

A warmth settled in the centre of your chest and you felt the corner of your eyes dampen. Any attempt of yours to not cry was immediately foiled as he inched closer and put his arms around your neck. His knees buckled against your crossed legs and he sank against your chest.

“For what it's worth,” you smiled against the crown of his head. “I think your reaction probably ranks highest out of the three.”

“Yeah?” He asked lightly. His curls tickled the end of your nose.

“Yeah. Jake used some pretty colourful language, most of it was in Spanish. And Marc pulled a gun on me–”

“He pulled a gun on you–?!” With the exclamation, Steven shot back to look at you.

“Like I said, you take first place.”

“Well, the bar wasn't set awfully bloody high was it?” He glared at his reflection in the kettle and you smirked, closing your arms around him and caging him to your chest. There was something so soothing, so primally comforting about being able to hold him, hold all of him, like this.

You nuzzled against his chocolate curls and to anyone on the outside looking in the action would have looked downright primal. Animalistic. But it couldn't have felt more intimate.

“I could get used to this, I think.” Steven's words were barely above a breath. “You're just a big teddy bear, really. More of you to love.”

His hands slowly and deliberately retraced your shoulder, then your neck, down the expanse of your chest... “What do the patterns mean?”

“Some of the symbols stand for attributes or characteristics; strength, courage, loyalty,” you regarded your arm, from your bicep down to your wrist. “Some of them are his symbols, some he added when I agreed to be his avatar and others, I've never really taken the time to find out–”

Steven hummed, not in a dismissive sense, rather in a way that showed he'd listened to each word like the gospel.

“I've got a book on ruins and ancient symbols, only bought the thing for the hieroglyphics really but maybe we could have a look? Do some homework?” A playful nudge accompanied the last question and you caved. As if you stood much of a chance to begin with.

That's how you ended up laying on the bed, (well, mostly on the bed. Your back was against the headboard and your legs still hung over the edge. Steven straddled your middle, an open book and notepad to his right, a highlighter between his teeth and a marker in his hand. His glasses sat on the bridge of his nose and his brows furrowed as he traced his thumb over a symbol just beneath your collarbone.

You shivered despite yourself.

He'd mapped everything out, using the marker to gently draw on your skin, making connections and jotting down notes. It was like watching a scholar at work and you were honoured to be his study.

“Sorry about the bathroom,” you said rather out of the blue.

Steven glanced up at you, rebellious curls falling against his brow. His confusion melted into gentle amusement. “Don't worry about it, love. Needed redoing anyways, I reckon.”

Then, as if it were the most mundane thing in the world, he went back to his translations.

In a form that most could only phantom in the darkest corners of their imagination and with a god willing to bend the seas and skies at your will, Steven Grant somehow remained among both the most curious and most cherished things you had.

Key ➳

Cernnunos - Celtic god of wild things, fertility and animals

Manannan - (Manannan Mac Lir) Celtic god of the sea

Imbolc - the Celtic festival that marks the halfway point between the winter solstice and the spring equinox. It celebrates the return of life and light as it is the time when the ewes come into milk, when the first flowers appear and when the day noticeably lengthens.

Newgrange - famous 5,200 year old passage tomb in Co Meath, Ireland

‘fia beag’ - gaeilge for ‘little deer’

thank you for reading!

tag list: @bakerstreethound @yoditopascal @moonlighy @linkpk88 @spideysimpossiblegirl @noahspector @malaanii @ineedmorejakelockley @drmeowingfangirl @loonymagizoologist @othersideoftheparadise @doozywoozy @mywellspringoflife

[adoregojo]

1967 ➡︎ isagi.y x reader

IM ALIVE!! YAHOOOOO!! btw i have an exam in a few hours, and here where my sudden passion for writing comes back. anyone enjoy this isagi x reader fic here. btw readers gender is unmentioned.

something was always missing from isagi yoichi's life.

the symbolizes dull blue man remains in his place, examining the disgustingly rich guests passing him with the priceless cologne reeking to his lungs and everywhere making it impossible to ignore and trying to not block his nose holes was a challenge itself.

it was in the fact that he didn't want to be here, the urge to isolate himself eventually loses against his duty. being a man, a soldier who was protecting nothing but the greediest class poor excuse of a human beings.

Isagi would've like to say he was one of hundreds who excepted this job, but he wasn't unfortunately. more like he was pushed into it so his so called comrades could take a free ride out of their job.

he let out a breath, it was just to guard the gate until the show ends, right? he'll just go with the flow for now. like he always does.

half of the shows were ridiculous if you ask him, what was so funny about a man beaming his loathing into dark jokes, isagi could never get the rich humor, not like he ever wanted to. he was sure half of these laughs were focused on and he couldn't find it in himself to even spare a smile.

the other display was a musical performance, a tribute by a group of people spreading imitation melody his ears were abhorrent by. this song was so dusty he couldn't believe that some actually clapped for that. affluent were easy to impress, he guessed.

and for the end and final play was about to begin, and finally he'll be done with this crap and leave this stump of a place. go to the bar and have a drink or two will do that,,

there he could see a somone who was he could guess in is age on the stag peeking nervously behind the curtain, clung to it for your dear life. he couldn't get a good picture out of you nor your face before the show started,,

#1

you took a deep breath in and out, something you do every time to keep yourself at bare minimum of sanity. peeping through wouldn't hurt, but it hits so hard how countless of people were there caused you sudden stomach aches.

the worst part that all of them came out obviously disinterested! not even paring down a glance to the stag you were gonna stand up at in the next six minutes. you were in you twenties and feeling this anxious should've been in the past, well guess old habits die hard.

you told yourself that your were here to give off a show that non of these cheap moneybags that'll never escape one's mind.

even if you felt your soul leaving your body as you step out to everyone's eyes judging from your body to your face and appearance whole, fighting the urge to melt out of humiliation was strong yet you were far capable.

it was now or never.

a dose of confidence washed over you as the music played, it was meant to be a soothing melody that made the audience feel the pure emotion out of every movement you made.

this was your life, to dance. not for others, but for yourself. humans were nothing but just the witnesses to your purpose of existence. this is where you felt alive, closing your eyes to the endless void that grasped you tightly than any other creature could.

guiding the tips of your feet in it meant placement of the dance, where the gravity is losing against you and floating was viable. where no one could tell you what to do with the occult place you rot into.

let them see since that'll be the only thing they can do.

#2

this wasn't like anything isagi saw.

it was not about the music, the audience, it was about the person who managed to take his heart and soul to their performances. every movement made his heart swirling in endless fondness.

he couldn't take his overset eyes off, he couldn't find it in his heart to even blink 'cause if he did so he'll miss it and it'll end before he knows. the depths of his obscure soul felt pure something you only feel when you watch people on the big screen yet it lifted your heart to it.

isagi's mind doesn't process the fact that the melody was long gone and echoing sounds of clapping and cheering were unheard, this is where the world, the universe itself were at a halt.

you raised up from your bowed state. something called, it was begging you to turn around and spare it a glance. and you did unintentionally, there you were meet by the most beautiful set of an eyes adoring you ceaselessly.

you were sweaty and definitely had a few flying out of place locks, but that man tenderly gaze embracing you says otherwise. out of all those people, out of them all he outshined them.

yet the locked eye contact doesn't last, it had to end before you had any chance to talk to him. to even approach him before being dragged out.

#2

well, isagi did end up at the bar he wanted to be in. and it didn't feel this empty before. caressing the glass of hallway wine with his thumb, until he sees his sad reflection on then persuades to hide his face in his arm's elbow. he looked like an old man grieving over his youth. and most of all he felt hopeless.

isagi was mostly selfless, putting others needs over his. but this one time he felt like this is what he needed the most, what his heart yearns for and you were taken away from him in a brief second.

maybe if he wasn't so damn busy memorized he would've managed to move his legs instead of rotting in his place while watching you go.

and what the worst of this all was the so little chance of meeting you again was making him go insane! and above all you were gifted and so, so dazzling and isagi was just.. him. a guy that was way beyond where you stood, just watching you should be a blessing itself.

but that wasn't it, this feeling of deep despair all he wanted was to run back to the stage and look for you. this weirdly strange passionate about someone he just saw was foreign.

all this thinking was making him a madman, ruffling his hair in frustration.

"need a company? looking a bit lonely."

a bit taken aback, isagi's shifted towards the voice. oh, oh. oh fuck, it was you.

he could faint right here and now.

#1

you could faint right here and now.

shit- you couldn't get a grip on approaching the guy, the same guy that you kept thinking about all day living in your head rent free. you were real smooth with your words, weren't?

to be surprise, the man was quite popular. being one of the famous men in his squad, and basically a man of a noble while you were just you, a dancer who travels around the world to achieve your dream.

you figured his name was isagi, isagi yoichi. you burned that name over your head. trying not to call him by his name, to try it out sliding down your mouth. but he would definitely see you as a creep, especially for looking around asking about him.

meeting him again had to be a miracle itself, at first you didn't even want to take a step towards his path. but seeing his drink his sadness away, and deep down you felt if you don't take a step he'll float away forever.

and now he was was sitting there while staring at you aimlessly, did you say something? a bit seconds before he finally spoke. "oh- yeah, i mean sure if y'know, you wanted to. no pressure." isagi stuttered.

you sent him a pleasant smile before taking a seat beside him, as you asked for a cocktail. the heavy feelings of the isagi's eyes pouring on you like he could believe you were actually there. you were glad that the man wasn't drunk yet.

"drinking a lot tonight, huh?" you said, dragging him back out of whatever dreamy place he was in. just then he quickly fixed his posture, it was cute, you thought. he looked like a dork as he cleared his throat.

"i think this is my last one." isagi says, pushing away the glass to get potty over you instead. "um, your performance. it was.. amazing."

"glad you like it, you also did a good job in guarding me." you laughed a bit, it a nervous one since this man words held so much more of a meaning in them you just couldn't handle such words as a little of red creeped into your cheeks.

"psh, it was nothing worth mentioning. i was just standing there while you were, just so breathtaking."

"really?"

"really, really. I couldn't stop staring." isagi cooed, rubbing the back of his neck bashfully. his eyes remained away from you as he said these words, he really hoped they sounded genuine as he felt and not come out as a creep. to his surprise he heard you chuckling, and if it wasn't the loveliest thing his ears are hearing.

"you're just so charming aren't you, isagi?" you didn't even realise the name slipping out, it felt so natural like you were the innate one to chime it.

isagi eyes widen, your rhythmical voice flow which captivate his emphasis of a soul over you. this spark swirling around his entrails making his breaths at halt. when did he become such a nervous wreck? yesterday it was isagi history of spurning the slightest hints of getting in a relationship, due for him finding it difficult to let his feelings flow freely. and the missing flicker was now found by someone who spoke his name once, and he couldn't find his heart to stop pounding so rapidly.

"you know my name?" he somehow managed to let out despite the regarding fact the air ran out from his lungs, yet it came out breathlessly.

you rolled your eyes playfully, "you're kind of popular around here so it wasn't so difficult to find out." said you, twirling the straw of your decayed cocktail, you glance back to see the man huffing a small laugh. he utterly and completely handsome with that carefree smile that you felt like a teenager girl with her silly crush.

"and it's, yn. if you were interested." you added.

if he was interested? like hell he is, the man was down on his knees if that meant getting to know you. fuck, he was so interested that he could drain his soul for you to tell him everything you please. but truthfully, putting a name to such a pretty face felt like a piece of puzzle was getting connected to it perfect place.

"interested? i am honoured i must say, miss yn." isagi had no idea he had this kind of sappy side within him, especially when he made you giggle coyly, and all he can feel is his heart racing. what was he? a teenage boy going all giddy with his crush? he blamed you for making him feel this young again, and damn if it didn't feel good to feel this bloom once again.

and before you even realise it, it was time to end this bright moment. peeking at the clock, you had another show tomorrow and it hits you like a rock. isagi had his own magic to make time go by the blue. standing up slowly you faced the face of a confused man, "i must take my leave. i have a show tomorrow night, and it was lovely talking to you isagi yoichi."

part of you felt dumb, the man was probably just lonely and he'll soon forget about by the day. as much as loving you felt next to him, you were no mind reader to see how he truly felt. you wished you weren't so bad with these things, especially when the wave was telling you that the man ahead of you was a man of a name. how could all your confidence wash away with a small tear of thought.

you could feel the disappointment taking over the soldier's face, as if his face was begging you to stay longer even for a brief second. you were gonna give in, but honestly, would he have approached you if the roles were reversed?

you didn't even let the man finish his sentence before walking fast out of the bar, suddenly the air was suffocating and you took a deep breath. and here it was again, the black void sky hinted by the stars with the moon outshining it. a wave of air hits you making you shrivel, perhaps it was the cold, perhaps it was the shallow you felt.

you wished would turn around and see him, running after you. but what did you expect from this, were your standards truly that high? you were a traveler, you shouldn't connect your heart with anyone's. soon you'll be leaving and be left heartbroken just like every other person did.

what now? you were just standing in the middle of a bar, cold and shivering. that was stupid, you should just go home and get drunk to sleep.

"wait! lady yn!"

you falter at the voice of isagi, did he actually came? were you imagining this? turning around, and in fact you weren't imagining a thing. it was actually isagi huffing and puffing for air, he actually ran all the way here, he ran after you. with his hands on his knees. a last breath before he met your eyes, and all you could think was how his eyes could take over the sky itself.

for a while he just stood there awkwardly, like he doesn't even know why he ran here. before he took off his black coat, taking a hesitation steps towards you. gently warping it around your body, the man handled you so steadily like a you were made of glass he could break by any wrong move.

you grip on the warm fabric, it was slightly bigger than you and so, so balmy. it felt like a hug. you glance back at the man who was staring instantly at you, you felt hot under his strange gaze, like he was eating you whole. you couldn't help but shrinking yourself. quickly he jolted back to his usual self, coughing there and there trying to hide his embarrassment.

"it's cold outside, take this to keep you warm." said isagi, avoiding your face with all costs. you nodded your head. trying to calm your raging heart.

you watch as isagi take a final breath, like he finally decided to what to say next. "um, if you like. i could be your guardian at your next show. whatever it is, I'll be there by your side." he spoke firmly, this time he stood bravely. like a boy confessing his feelings.

you don't know why but you found yourself laughing, laughing so hard you had to cover your mouth. this is what you wished for, the one you waited to follow you whatever you go is standing right in there. a one that'll held on to you for the everlasting. your wish to perform with your most loved one by your side was no longer a beyond reach dream but a meant destiny.

"you have to take me out to dinner first, mister isagi yoichi."

you see as a beam draw it way to isagi's face, you spoke the words he couldn't. he took your hand in his gloved once, it was a perception fit, the missing piece of puzzle, pressing his lips lovingly against your cold knuckles, "only if you wouldn't run away this time, miss yn ln." he chuckled.

and here where your life was completed

have a nice day everyone! wish me luck for my exam ;)

[aita-blorbos]

Am I the "asshole" for wanting to have a body again?

Context: I was once a powerful demon, but an attempt was made to seal that demon's soul inside a cursed object. The sealing didn't completely succeed, and the demon's soul was torn to pieces, with only the part currently known as "me" ending up inside. I don't remember much about this part of my life, but as far as I can recall, I almost certainly didn't do anything to deserve it.

I (immortal, pick one) have been trapped in this object as an incorporeal spirit for so long I've lost track of time. My prison has changed hands many times, but was most recently acquired by an extremely ambitious student at a nearby magic school (13M, we'll refer to him as "K"). K all but demanded I lend my power to him and teach him some of what I knew. As I quite literally have nothing better to do, I agreed, and the arrangement has been mostly tolerable.

Except a short time after we began working together, a new student "S" (also 13M) showed up at K's school. And what did he have with him but the other part of my soul?! I don't know how he came to have it, if he's some sort of reincarnation of my original self or a distant descendant, but all that mattered was that if I could get to him, I could have a body again. It was the best opportunity I'd ever had to get my life back. So I got K to perform a ritual that switched our places and put me in his body (and before I'm called the "asshole" for that, it was supposed to be a TEMPORARY arrangement, and besides, he's the one who wants to mess with dark magic. I taught him a very valuable lesson about dealing with demons! Not that he actually learned anything from it…)

S came straight to me, but someone must've realized what was going on and put a protection charm on him. Then he beat me in a duel, and after that he just…walked away. Like he didn't have a care in the world! He hadn't come to deal with me, or even to save his classmate, no, he just wanted to steal one of my ritual components because some stranger had asked him to, otherwise I don't know if he'd have bothered showing up. I don't think he even listened to a word I said.

Needless to say, that plan didn't work out. I'm still working with K, but now both his teacher and the most powerful warlock on this side of the planet are watching me like I'm some sort of criminal. And what's worse, no one involved took me seriously, and aren't willing to so much as mention the incident. It's like it didn't even matter! I'm pretty sure even S has forgotten the whole thing, he's got a memory like a sieve for anything that isn't the scientific name for a stag beetle.

It hasn't been all that long, but it feels as if it's been decades since I've gotten to do anything. Is it so wrong for me to try and escape this pitiful existence I've been unjustly forced into? Am I going to spend the rest of eternity in here being the butt of some kind of massive cosmic joke? I really don't think I deserve to be either treated like a reprobate or outright ignored.

EDIT: THIS IS FAKE NONE OF THIS HAPPENED my device must have been stolen moderators please delete!!

EDIT 2: To everyone saying K should get rid of the demon, if any of these events had hypothetically actually happened (WHICH THEY DIDN'T), I would definitely have the situation COMPLETELY under control by now!!

[isalisewrites]

TERRIBLE, BUT GREAT - CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

SUMMARY:

“Harry Potter.”

The cold burrowed into his flesh, the scent of cloying death and molding earth clogged his senses.

“The Boy Who Lived.”

A strange sense of loss and disappointment rose within him. That brilliant, yet cruel boy could’ve been so much more if he’d not stepped down this bloodied path.

Terrible, but great. He pitied this creature.

“Come to die.”

Harry Potter faced the flash of green light with the bravery of a Gryffindor and the broken heart of a Hufflepuff.

—

When Death gives Harry a third option, one that can save everyone he ever cared about, he takes it unflinchingly. Even when that means doing the impossible: falling in love with the enemy, Tom Riddle.

—

FORTY-SIX EXCERPT:

If he couldn’t focus in class, Tom threw himself into a different project: patronus forms. At the risk of embarrassing himself, he dragged Harry along to the library with the insistence of finding some answers. Thankfully, with his brain wholly focused on the topic and trying to understand why a patronus would change forms, his body didn’t have the space to react to every little word and gesture from Harry.

Thank Salazar for small mercies.

“Is this really necessary?” asked Harry, closing the book he’d been flipping through and switching to a new one. “We don’t have to figure out the answer.”

Tom scoffed. “Aren’t you curious? Has your patronus ever changed form before?”

“No,” muttered Harry.

“So, something has changed. Did you use a different memory or feeling?”

Harry turned his head away and avoided Tom’s gaze. “Not particularly, no,” he said lightly. Tom paused, noting something odd in his tone. Tension rolled off Harry’s shoulders and the color deepened in his ears.

“Perhaps, one’s patronus changes form as they mature,” said Tom, watching for any shift in Harry’s body language.

“Perhaps.”

He’s hiding something again. Must everything be a mysterious secret with him? Even this?

“Your patronus was a stag. Did you know the significance of its form?”

The stiffness in Harry’s body softened. He nodded. “My father. He was an animagus and a stag was his form.”

Interesting. So, a patronus took the form of what held emotional significance to its castor. Would that mean something else has overtaken emotional significance in Harry’s life?

Tom’s first thought went to the Scamanders. Newt and Tina had slipped into both of their lives and, much to Tom’s reluctance to admit, they held some place there. Newt and Tina were getting oddly affectionate with them, too. Though Christmas had been a lot to handle, he’d rather enjoyed it. Perhaps, the experience had been more significant to Harry. But Tom wouldn’t have attributed a magpie to either Newt or Tina, especially if the form was meant to represent someone important.

“I wonder what the significance of a magpie is,” said Tom, keeping his tone light and innocent. Harry stiffened up once more.

He knows why.

Harry shrugged and let out an awkward laugh. “Who knows?”

Tom reached out and grabbed him by the chin. Harry jolted. Tom tugged at his face, forcing Harry to look at him. Harry met his gaze, expression grim, lips thinned, and those eyes pleaded with him once more—pleaded with Tom to not ask.

“You’re so quick to keep secrets,” murmured Tom.

What are you hiding? How deep does it go? Why do you hold yourself back from me?

Harry’s breath stuttered. “Tom—”

“Is it really so bad that you can’t tell me?” whispered Tom.

“It’s not bad—I swear—”

“But you won’t tell me why it changed.”

“It’s…” Harry sucked in his breath, his gaze dropping. “It’s personal.”

Tom instantly let him go. He frowned at the twisting, churning feeling in his stomach. “Oh?”

“A patronus form is personal, but when it changes form… that’s even more personal and…”

“Very well,” said Tom, tone clipped, closing the book in front of himself. Discomfort coiled in his gut. An odd, irrational need for distance from Harry crept inside his heart. “I suppose this has been a colossal waste of time.”

The urge to be alone overwhelmed his senses. He abruptly stood.

“Perhaps, we ought to study separately.”

He made to leave, but a hand shot out and grabbed him by the wrist. Tom halted, hating how he didn’t dislike it, hating how much he wouldn’t mind it if Harry held him for longer, and slowly turned back to look at him.

“When you can cast a fully corporal patronus,” said Harry, a serious light in his eyes. “I’ll tell you why mine changed.”

[veryberryjelly]

not one hair outta place

married at first strike - 0.0 the hen do

jamie tartt x fem!reader [ 0.9k ]

𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

You rubbed your palms along your legs as the car neared closer and closer to the destination you could spot on your driver’s gps. 

A mantra repeated in your head like a broken record. 

‘I’m ready for this’ 

You hadn’t been the one to come up with this idea. One of your friends had sent you the link to the applications and at the time you thought it couldn’t hurt. 

There was no way you’d get chosen out of thousands of applicants. 

And when you got that email that your application had been moved to the next stage of the process, you were sure you wouldn’t get through any more stages. 

But now you were here. Sat in the back of a car on the way to a hen party.

When the car stopped you took in a shuddering breath and opened up the back door, thanking the driver before approaching the open doors. 

You heard voices. 

You weren’t the first one here. 

Another deep breath, one more step and you were met with a wave of cheers and welcomes as one of the other girls approached you. 

“ hi, sweetheart. You look so good ! “ the redhead exclaimed as she wrapped you in a quick hug. 

“ Thank you, you look incredible too. I’m y/n “

“ Amelia. Can I get you some bubbly ?” 

“ absolutely “ 

You followed her over to the small bar table where 10 glasses of champagne rested alongside two ice buckets. 

You were very quickly introduced to the rest of the girls in the room, greeting each and every one of them with a smile and a compliment about their outfit, because they all looked fantastic.

As more women flooded in, you fell into a conversation with the group, learning why all of these beautiful, intelligent and successful women needed the help of experts to find someone. 

A round of gasps pulled you from your conversation, causing you to flinch and almost spill your drink. 

You turned your gaze towards the door to find what everyone was gasping at. 

“ evening, ladies “ 

A guy. 

You didn’t know a lot about this experiment, but you were pretty sure this was a hen party. 

“ oh, he must be paired with another guy on the stag night “ 

Oh. 

He was quick to introduce himself as Oscar, and also confirmed that, yes, he was gay. 

Unbeknownst to the hens, a similar thing was happening over at the stag party.

A round of confused noises spread around the room when a woman walked in amongst the men. 

“ hey boys. Room for one more ?” the girl spoke. 

The boys had gathered that she was the last one to enter based simply on how many men were already in the room. 

A head of walnut mist turned towards the new member of the stag party. 

Not what he expected. 

But she was very attractive, so he figured he would try and get on side. 

He stood from the seat he had gotten comfortable in and made his way over to her, a smirk crawling it’s way onto his lips. 

“ Want a drink ?” he suggested, motioning towards the bar with two buckets of drinks. 

“Definitely“ she replied, following him towards the bar where she stuck her hand out to shake his. “ isla “ 

“Jamie“ he replied, his hand slotting into hers. “ what can i get for you, isla ?” he questioned, his eyes only leaving hers to momentarily drop to scan her body when she was identifying the drink options. 

“I’ll take a white wine” 

Jamie was quick to fulfill her request, but not long after he placed the glass in her hand, a new voice entered the room. 

“Welcome everyone, to the experiment. My name is Derek, and i’m here to help guide you all through this.”

“Welcome everyone, to the experiment. My name is Claire, and i’m here to help guide you all through this.”

Every pair of eyes was on the newcomer in the room, a woman they all identified as one of the experts. 

“ enjoy your last night as single people because by this time tomorrow, you will all be married to someone chosen specifically for you “ 

Her sentence sent a chill down your spine. One you were sure was rooted in both fear and excitement. 

“ as you’ve no doubt noticed, you are joined by one of our grooms. That is because we have two same sex couples this year “ 

“ as you’ve no doubt noticed, you are joined by one of our brides. That is because we have two same sex couples this year “ 

That had jamie’s hopes of scoring with isla dropping to the floor. He was good, but even he wouldn’t be able to score with a lesbian. 

“ have a good night, everyone. This time tomorrow, you’ll be married to someone the experts have matched with you “ 

All that Jamie could hope for, was that his partner would be a lot easier to get with than isla. Or he may as well have just stayed in Richmond.

With that, Derek left, and the room lit up with discussion. 

Primarily about which groom was into men, and where the other groom was. 

The conversation was practically identical at the Hen Party. But no one chose to voice it, most likely told by the production team to keep it a secret for the sake of suspense. 

But that didn’t mean that you couldn’t focus on enjoying the night and getting to know the people you would be seeing a lot of over the next few weeks. 

taglist ;; @rexorangecounty @jamiebigbuttedtartt @neenieweenie @drmeghanjones @kaitlyn2907 @yokolesbianism

[iviorienne]

BRAVERY

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Demon Alastor x human reader.

๑ | Navigation : where a human summoned a certain demon and both created a deal, where one who seek for protection of her and her family and while the other who see for her body and soul. The demon demands to have her soul to hell from time to time and in order to do that, they share a ring whenever one wants to leave earth or wants to leave earth. Two pairs became close but the other one developed more.

๑ | Tw : angst, unrequited love, swearing

If the word "idiocy" is an understatement at your state right now then, a fool would be the best. Your little curious human mind stumbled upon an old abandoned cabin upon strolling around the woods of Louisiana on New Orleans.

You and your family moved on New Orleans just a month ago and getting bored of being inside of the house, you decided to stroll around then saw an old cabin then went in there.

Upon arriving inside, a sickening chills electrocuted your nerves as your doe eyes wondered around the cabin, dolls, voodos and a book on a pentagram greted your sight.

Normal people would have choosen to flight the place and forget about it, but you, you let the curiosity get the best of you and decided to take the book and eximine it.

Stumbling to a certain spell, you decided to try it.

Did it work? Well, unfortunately, it did. And nownhere you are, shaking under the heated gaze of a deer demon in front of you with its sickening grin.

It radio static voice echoed through the cabin as it asked for what your wish is. It took you a solid minute when answering his question, refusing to believe the sight in front of you.

The stag was getting clearly irritated due to its knitted brows and strained grin. But instead of wishing quickly, you broke into a sprint leaving the cabin with an irritated demon.

Two night have passed, nightmares have been visiting your dreams. The sight of the deer demon haunted your dreams for two long nights. Dark presence and shadows would look around the room in the depths of the night. It made you restless and very exhausted.

Your family started to get worried at the bags under your eyes and your lack of energy, but you refuse to tell them the exact reason for them being religious and would have you an earful of scolding.

You sighed as you hugged your blanket around your form as you tried to calm you racing heart to your chest as you stared at the forming dark shadow on the corner of the room.

You can see face, nor eyes but you feel it's staring at you.

You took a shaky depend breath as you clutched your blanket, too scared to move that it might pounce on you if you made any slight movements. You tried to fight of the fear creeping out of your heart since your grandparents always tells you that, fear feuls a demons hunger more. But clearly your failing miserably at it.

" are you just gonna stare at me all night or will you state what you desire most and seal the deal? " you almost screamed your heart out at the radio static kind of voice if it weren't for a shadow covering your mouth before you let out the scream.

" careful now my dear, we wouldn't want to cause troubles to you parents now we? " the voice mocked before it stepped out of the corner revealing the oh-so-mighty-deer-demon you summoned two nights ago.

You breath heavily as you squirmed to its shadow, you felt your heart stopped as he got closer to your height with a menacing grin.

" look darling, tasting and witnessing your fear and frustrations and all but I have a business to attend to back to my place, it would have been done perfectly finished if it weren't from you rudely interrupting me by summoning. " be breath out as he grabbed your jaw, claws digging to your cheeks as you let out a whimper.

" and you know what I loathed the most? " he growled " that is mindless fawns who interrupts me in the middle of my work for something useless. " he growled again and emphasizing the "mindless fawns".

He let's go of your jaw as he leans back and placing his arms behind his back elegantly.

" now, let's make this quick. " he smiled with a half-liffed eyes.

" you give me your wish and I can fulfill it, anything you want. And by anything, I mean I can give everything. " he hummed as he walked over your bed.

" fame, your love, money, protection , to kill for you—" he stopped in front of your bed " You name it! "

" and in exchange, I'll have your soul. " he grinned menacingly down at you.

" so do we have a deal? " he leaned down once again with his hand stretched out for you to take. You stared at his claws where a soft green glow emitting his hand.

" i-.. I.. " he quirkee a brow at your stutters as he patiently waited for your response.

You thought for a moment about this, it seems like you have no escaped to the action you made. So you swallowed your fear as you took a deep breath.

" m.. May I add something.. F-for my deal? "

" of course darling! Darling you'd like! "

You took your time collecting enough courage to speak as you met his eyes again.

" i- I would like to add to our deal.. That.. You.. To never touch any of my family nor love ones and friends. T-their souls are their to keep and protect them to at all costs! But never make any contact with then unless it's protection. And I still get to do whatever I want after you own my soul! " you rambled as you out up a brave face at the demoness in front of you.

The demon let out a dark chuckled as he retracted his hand.

" now that wouldn't be really fair, now is it darling? "

Your heart stopped for a moment after you thought for another way to still keep your freedom.

" how about this.. I will gave my all to you and you give your all to me.. W-well apart from that is way pass your comfort ,t-that is.. " you squeaked out feeling very embarrassed at your choices of words.

The stag grinned devilishly as he filter his head to the side.

" anything? "

" a-anything.. "

He smirked as he grabbed your hand.

" I would also would love to add in terms for me— " he cooed as he squeezed your hand " I would like to bring your body and soul to hell, with me in how many times I would like. " he grinned.

" wait-thats possible? -"

" in my power, it is. " he smiled.

" but- I'm quite a busy gal, and I'm still a student and a dancer. I can't be always available. " you explained.

" oh? Then night time. "

" my training and contests are in night time.. " you squeaked out.

The stag quirk a brow at you as you thought quickly for a solution.

" h-how about you uh.. Give me something like a ring or any accessories that would let me know if you're coming here or will take me to hell..something that I can still give you a response whether I'm in training or not.."

He gave you a look for a moment before pulling your hand making you crash into his chest.

" fair enough. " he grinned as grin glow emitts the room as a glowing green collar snapped to your neck as the chain leash appeared on the stage hand.

" pleasure doing business to you , dear darling~" he cooed as he yanked the chain making you pulled closer inches from his nose.

" now get the name of the lovely gal I'll be doing business with? I didn't got the chance to get it from two nights ago when you decided to rudely cut the conversation by running. " he chuckled darkly.

You gulped as you let out a strained voice due to the collar on your neck.

" y-y/n.."

"Y/n." He purred, you felt your stomach tingles at the sound of your name rolling smoothly to his tongue.

" quite a lovely name for a lovely gal indeed! " he smiled as he let go of the leash and then it vanished as you dropped to your bed, coughing.

" the names alastor darling, pleasure to meet you, quit a pleasure! " he exclaimed as he watched your coughing form.

" now that the deals is set, I would love to go back to my place and continue.. My unfinished business.. I'll see you when I can.. Little doe " he cooed as he melts in to the darkness.

For the last couple of days, alastor fulfilled his part of the deal, your family got raising pays to their jobs on Louisiana, you were popular to your school, no one dared to disrespect you, you were the catch and the talk of the school. Though one thing you didn't like is.. The attention, unfortunately, you were quite introverted one.

It's been a couple of days too since you've seen alastor, but you didn't mind. You're still not quite used of his presence, just after knowing that you summoned an overlord.

When he yet again made an appearance to your kitchen, you almost screamed half to death upon seeing a very tall red grinning demon in front of you.

You clutched your chest as you were hunched over with your other hand on the table supporting yourself from you knees getting weak from the scare, you wheezed as you glare at the demon who was grinning in amusement at your startled form.

" fucking HELL never to that again! " you painted as you clutched your racing heart.

" you almost made me face the golden hates of heaven with your stunt! Jeez! "

The stag chuckled as you sat on the chair finally calming your heart.

" fuck.. I think I hear the seven trumpets of heaven. "

" language dear, language. " the stag chuckled as he made his way beside you as you calmed your breathing.

" (insert your language). " you answered sarcastically as you quirked a brow at you.

" so what brings you here? "

" what? Can't I just visit and see how my darling doe doing? " he cooed as he leaned over your seat.

" well I was doing fine that is until you decided to appear out of nowhere and scared the living daylight out of me! " you huffed as you received a laugh from the said demon.

" now now my dear, for the real matter of why I am here it's because.. I would like to take you to hell with me from this moment? "

" why? "

" well just because, no come along. "

" wai-! " before you could protest, you could feel yourself slowly getting succumbed through the darkness as you closed your eyes and feel yourself falling, when you felt the hard ground you stumbled over your stance and landed on your butt as you rubbed your head from a nausea kicking it due to the transportation and the switching realms.

" you could have atleast.. Warned me. " you mumbled and earned an amused laugh from the demon. When you opened your eyes, you were greeted with more demons shocked faces, one was a Blondie, a moth, cat, Cyclops, and a serpent.. And holy fuck- spider. You felt chills crawled in your spine as you saw the spider demon.

Overall upon meeting them, they were nice, especially the blonde, you also got to hang out with the spider who's name was angel. He was nice, the cat gave you an pity look which you understand clearly, the moth gave you a worried look. But overall, their very nice. You like them. And when you first met Rosie and the cannibal town, they almost launched themselves to you when the certain overlord threatened them. You liked Rosie, Rosie liked you, though sometimes she's scary.

Then before you know it, it's been 4 years since you met alastor and the hazbin hotel. You're on your last year as a collage student now. Your relationship with the stag became quite close too, especially you. You've grown very attached to the radio demon and so was he. But yours was differently.

Alastor have also witnessed your very worse and your greatest, he had seen everything. Apart from the feelings you held for the said man.

Alastor have given you advices here and there, quotes, riddles and more. You were also there when the extermination happened 3 years ago, you faced your fears that time like the stag adviced you, sadly you lost one friend in that faithful day.

Right now, it was yet another normal day with you on the radio tower copying your notes while alastor busied hismelf with broadcasting. When you finished, our let out a sigh as you stretched out your limbs as alastor ended his broadcast. You stared at the ceiling of the radio tower as your feelings for him gets strongly as the more seconds you spend with him.

" hey al? " you called for him which he answered with a hum, examining his papers.

" you remember the advice you gave me with my fears right? "

" certainly darling, I do, how can I forget when I always reminds you with it. " he chuckled which you laughed softly at his response.

"I wanna do something brave today."

" oh? Mind enlightening me about it? "

"...well.. I have this one fear I have been holding for 3 years now. "

" go on dear" he hummed as he scribbled to his papers.

You went quiet for a moment as you felt your heart race.

" dear? " he called out to you, realizing you're not answering, he set down his papers as he walked to the couch in front of his broadcasting station and sat in front of you.

" darling? " you finally snapped out of you trance as you meet his eyes. You but your lower lip as you sighed.

" I... You-.. From-.. Ugh for fuck sake- " you groaned from you last sentence with your hand flying over your face in frustration. You took out a heavy sigh as you stared at him directly in the eye as you feel heat crept out to your cheeks.

Alastor quirk a brow at your actions.

" are you alright sweetheart? If your not comfortable enough with sharing this information then you don't have too. Give it a time. " fuck- how can you not fall for this demon when his-his like this?!

It's so wrong but you can't help it.. No man have ever treated you as the same as he treated you.

You felt your lip quiver as you sigh, muttering a small "fuck it".

" alastor.. "

" yes sweetheart? "

".. I-... " you paused as you gripped at the hem of your oversized T-shirt. " I love you. "

The sound of radio scratching erupted across the room making you since as you shamefully avoided his gaze. He was quiet, he went quite. No response or what's over, just an Increasing sound of white radio static.

" I.... I have loved you.. F-for the third years of our meetings.. I know it's very wrong to feel this way for a demon.. Especially I'm a human. " you rambled as you looked down on your lap, your hands gripping at your pants.

" I loved you for.. For you, I don't exactly know- but it just happened. Everything you just did for me, apart from the deal just made me fall for you? I don't know.. This was never ment to happen.. But.. Here I am. " you laughed dryly.

" I know you will never reciprocate this feeling since.. You never have been familiar with this types of emotions..but.. I just want this feelings out and known. " you took a deep breath as you finally met his eyes who was staring at you with wide eyes and strained smile, his ears were laying flat to his head.

" I.. I love you all.. I really do. " you smiled bitterly.

" you don't have to response.. You don't have to answer since I clearly know the answer.. " you tried to keep your voice straight but miserably failing since there are possibilities of him avoiding you for the rest of your life because of you stupid little feelings towards him.

" but... The-.. There's one thing... I wish.. Is.. For us.. To.. " at this point tears were already spilling to your eyes.

" for us.. To.. Not.. " you sobbed.

You sniffles as you hugged yourself as you tried to contain your tears. You wished he would swallow up his pride and embrace you and comfort you, but sadly, you know darling too well he won't.

And before you knew it, you found yourself back in your room.

" i-.. I'm sorry.. " you sniffles.

[justrainandcoffee]

The night

Prev. || Masterlist

Summary: More than three years passed since they kissed for the first time. Now, Alfie and his Lady are 18 and their love is stronger than ever. And their night together, a night that shouldn't have happened, it's the proof of that.

Warnings: None. || Beginning of the second part of the story.

Words: 1.1 K.

105 AC. -Three years later.

It's the first night after a week of endless rain, that the moon is visible again. Tyana and Meera, her maids, are sleeping in the small bedroom next to hers. But Rose is awake waiting for the perfect moment to leave her chamber.

She pushes open the door, trying not to make any noise. She's barefoot and the cold stone under her feet causes her a pleasant feeling. Every time she sneaks out of her bedroom, the adrenaline rushes through her body. It's risky, but her reward is waiting for her in their secret place.

There's an empty tower that no one waste their time to visit because, mostly, it's full of antiques such as paintings and sculptures that her ancestors were accumulating there, or that her father didn't want anymore in the visible part of the castle. Usually there's no one, but for the last three years it's a secret place that Rose and Alfie use to see eachother. Although not always. Both of them are smart enough to know better, but it's a good place to be together away from the curious eyes of the people around them when they have the chance.

Some people, especially servants, started to noticed the smiles between them and there's no place where Rose can be completely alone anymore, even when her father trust her and also the boy. Septa Myra was very clear about her heart and maidenhood, despite Rose downplayed her words saying it wasn't true: The young stag was just her friend and they were joking with the other. She was faithful to her betrothed… a young boy she didn't know at all. James Stark is quiet, say some people. He's arrogant, say the rest. Whoever was lying, she doesn't care. What he is, doesn't matter because she has no choices but to marry him.

But she still has some choices and tiptoeing through the castle to see Alfie, is one of them.

The tower is dark only illuminated by the moonlight entering through the window but it's good for them. He's already there when she entered there and he can't help but smile seeing her and when she runs to him, he catches her in the air wasting no time to kiss her.

Alfie is not longer the boy he was when she met him seven years ago. He's not even the boy that kissed her under the willow tree, three years ago. Alfie is now a man who has nothing to envy of the knights Lord Tyrell have.

"Rosie," he says pulling apart from the young lady, to see her face. "I thought you weren't coming."

"I'm sorry you had to wait, but my maids…you know, sometimes they spent very long time talking. I had to wait until they were sleeping soundly. But I'm here."

"You are, love, you are."

When Alfie was 13, he heard once her father talking about a possible engagement between his daughter and the firstborn son of Lord Stark, but he didn't care. That was something expected to happen. Joining houses was a tradition and a way to keep the peace between the High Houses. But not longer after that day, it was announced that the engagement was going to be between Rose and the second son, because the eldest one was in The Wall for reasons that no one dared to ask. And for Alfie, it was also okay.

But now, years after, that wasn't okay at all. Not even a bit. He managed to persuade his own father to not start any stupid engagement with any lady of any House because he wasn't ready at all. He didn't want another woman. Why didn't Lord Baratheon think about him as possible husband for Lady Rose Tyrell when he had been living with them for years? Lord Stark and his frozen ass from the North saw the opportunity and took it and of course, her father said yes. No one could be stupid enough to say no to a House like that. And yet, if his father had been paying attention to his surroundings instead of fucking any women around him, he too would have done the same. Because, after all the Baratheon were as powerful and noble as the Starks were.

But that didn't happen and now Alfie has to see how the woman he loves is going to marry another man. A fucker northern wolf that could never appreciate her.

"What're you thinking?" she asks, still in his arms kissing his face.

"You. And me. And how everything is wrong."

"Yes, it is. But we can't run away."

"We can, to the East. Change our names..."

"We're literally in middle of Westeros, Al. We have no chance. As soon as we leave, my father is going to contact yours and in a couple of weeks we're going to be surrounded by both families… it's not worth."

"You're worthy."

She smiles at him before kissing him again. There's no way another man can be compared to him. Because she knew, even without knowing it, that no one is going to make her feel that way. And probably that's why she did what she did.

"I want to be yours."

And Alfie stops for a moment to look at her, truly trying to understand her words.

"Rose. Rosie… it's not like we can undone this once it's done. If he-"

"I want to be yours," she repeated. "I want you having something mine that no one else can have. You're worthy too, Al."

And that's when the last string of rationality leave their bodies. He wants the same, he craves the same. And he did it for the last years.

There's no bed here. Just some cushions, old rugs made of fur and his cape. But it's enough.

It doesn't hurt as she heard some ladies said in the past, been in her castle or when her family visited other lands. She didn't bleed either. It's a pleasant sensation she didn't know a woman could experience. Rumours about men being violent towards women is something she also heard a lot, too. Some stories are so horrible that she prefers to believe that are made up, even when she knows that aren't made up.

But Alfie isn't one of them. He'd never be one of them. His hands caressing her body, telling her sweet nothings while he's moving inside her, it's something that she never was going to forget.

It's his first time too. The boy in top of her, can't believe that is happening to him and with her. It shouldn't be him, it should be Stark. But it's not the case and he's happy about it even it's ephemeral. They can't be together but they're now.

"I love you," he says, holding her against his body.

"I love you, too."

In very few weeks she's going to be Lady Stark and he's going to return to Storm's end to never came back to Highgarden again. Both of them are 18, a man and a woman. They were educated their whole lives for that moment. What they prepared for them, it's separated one from the other by thousands of miles.

But the stars have another idea. Lady Greyjoy was right: once the fate is written by them, mortals can't do anything about it.

"I love you," she repeated hiding her face in his neck, once they finished.

-----

The stars are right, especially now the bond between them was finally sealed.

Next

Same as before, I'm only tagging those who read the prev parts. I'm not forcing anyone to read it ❤️.

@mischievouslittlecreature @cillmequick @cillmequick @shelbydelrey @evita-shelby @hoodeddreams13

[olympeline]

More thoughts on national animal forms in Hetalia:

Their beast selves are slightly bigger than what’s considered normal for the species. Not to such a degree that they’d look like freaks, but big enough to make you take a second glance.

They’re incapable of human speech while in animal form. I’m on the fence as to whether they’d be able to speak to each other as beasts or whether they’d have to change back to hold a conversation. Leaning towards the latter, honestly. These forms are wild and primal and speech of any kind just feels too human.

The appearance of a nation’s human guise stays mostly consistent throughout their lives, but their animal form is different. It can change radically depending on what’s happening in the world. This is most often seen with territories and settler colonies who break away and ascend to true nationhood. Like Alfred, who only became a bald eagle after the USA won independence from the British Empire. Before that he was a young lion. And if you’re wondering whether a super badass Lion King style battle ever took place between him and Arthur during their war? I’m happy to inform you the answer is: yes. Absolutely Hell Yes it did. 👌

Only real animals count. So no unicorn form for Scotland, dragon for Wales, etc. They’re cool but I prefer the consistency of everyone having creatures that actually exist, you know? Oh and, if you’re curious, I picture Scotland’s animal form being a stag. Not sure about Wales’s yet.

Speaking of the UK family, Arthur is a lion but he didn’t start out that way. He was a rabbit in the distant past. Quite the transformation. When did he change? Hard to say. Definitely not before Roman Britain ended. Most likely it would have been either during the reign of William the Conqueror, or else at the start of the Hundred Years War.

The manner in which an animal form changes depends on the circumstances behind why it’s changing in the first place. For Alfred, who won his freedom in battle’s flame, it was a fast, violent, and painful process. The first night after the war was won, Alfred bloodily tore off his golden lion’s pelt and cast it into the fire. Then he resculpted his fleshy, naked, skinless body and reclothed it in a bald eagle’s feathers. The whole thing was over before the sun rose above the newly made country. And as agonising as it was, it was also a relief for Alfred. His lion’s skin hadn’t felt right ever since the start of the war. It itched, and chafed, and burned, and almost drove Alfred mad. Even as a human, it tickled and whined and gnawed at him in the back of his mind. Only getting worse as the war dragged on. Eventually Alfred was assuming his beast form regularly just so he could bite and tear at himself in a frenzy. The revolutionaries got used to seeing their fledgling country covered in the wounds he’d gouged into himself in a futile attempt to find relief. None came until victory was won and he could cast off his lion form - and his old self - for good.

Meanwhile Matthew, who peacefully slipped into a fluffy lion cub form after Arthur won him from Francis, was very different. His independence was gradual and diplomatic so there was no need for a violent ripping of flesh. Instead, over time, Matthew quietly started using his lion form less and less the more Canada drew away from Britain. Until one day, when he badly needed release from the trappings of the human world, he assumed his beast form for the first time in decades. Only to find it had changed. Something Mattie had been expecting for a while but it was still a shock when it suddenly happened. There wasn’t any pain or anguish for him, though. Just a small feeling of wistfulness at the realisation he’d never wear his lion form again. It’s fine, though: a Canadian horse suited him better. Fit like a glove right from the start.

Mattie ultimately becoming a horse is funny too because, while I haven’t made up my mind yet about what Francis should be, a horse is an option I’m considering. Which would mean Matthew went from French foal, to British cub, then ultimately back to horse again, lol.

Maybe…maybe a horse is good for Francis? Maybe? Urgh, I don’t know! Seriously, I’ve only just started this AU thing and already Francis has become the bane of my existence. 😂 France is a world power and England’s historical rival. So his animal form would need to be something that could not just fight, but win against a lion. Yeah, a rooster ain’t cutting it, lmao. A big destrier style war horse could conceivably kill a lion by kicking or trampling it. Horses are prey animals but that doesn’t mean predators aren’t still scared af of a horse’s kick caving in their skulls and smashing their bones to powder. Also, historically horses are symbols of wealth, grace, war, and just plain pretty to boot. All of which fit Francis. My only other idea is that he’d be another lion. Because England got its lion from French nobility. Or maybe he’d be a lion up until the French Revolution? Then he’d pull an Alfred and rip off his pelt - or have it ripped off him by force during the Reign of Terror - and be remade as a horse. Lions are one of the symbols of monarchy so it’s some nice imagery there. Napoleon relied heavily on his cavalry too. Yeah, it could work. Maybe…? What do you guys think? Any other ideas? Post em below if you have em.

A nation-person doesn’t always change their animal form completely if their real world circumstances are altered. Take Argentina for example; a Spanish colony who started as a black calf and still remained a bull after locking horns with Antonio and driving him out of his part of South America. A bull suited Argentina so a bull he stayed. Though his coat and horns did turn from black to silver post-independence. Argentina. Land of beef. Land of silver. Silver bull, geddit?

Finally, there’s the differing effects of conquest where the original inhabitants of the land aren’t replaced like what happened in the Americas. Cases like Romano: a nation whose animal form never changed through all his ups and downs. Not after Antonio conquered him, not after being set free, and not after unification with Feliciano. Romano remained an Italian wolf through it all. Change was possible but it never happened for him. I guess it would depend on factors like how much of the original culture survives, how tightly the controlled nation is under the thumb of the master nation, etc. In the most extreme cases a conquered nation’s animal form might change completely to mirror that of their conqueror. Other times they might shift only a little. Like, say, if Ireland’s original animal was a wolf. Then, after being crushed and occupied by England, that wolf began to look more doglike. Symbolic of the English (later British) goal of “taming” wild Ireland. Stuff like that. A case by case basis, really.

(That’s all for now. Hope you enjoyed reading. I’m tagging this as my national animals AU ☺️)