#there is nothing that gives me more energy than a foggy forest!!

[kenjakusbrainstem]

Trust (Kenjaku x Mahito)

Sequel to Shall I Save You?

This is the last prompt for Mahito Month, and its been so much fun writing with intention all month! Having prompts and deadlines really helps me focus my creative energy, and to put all of that into my favorite pairing was so enjoyable. I really loved exploring their relationship and the idea of them interacting with each other after Shibuya following my Fix-It fic. Hopefully it doesn't seem too rambling! Cross-posted to Ao3 and shared to twitter as Kenjakusbrain.

Mahito had been many places with the curses and Geto but they were often places in nature, like forests or hot springs. It wasn’t often that he ventured into places filled with sorcerers without trying to conceal his presence, so following behind Geto as they made their way through the Kamo Clan Residence was somewhat surreal.

He’d never seen Geto use his powers the way he was in this moment. Knowing that he had some sort of mind altering ability all along was astonishing. Mahito was surprised how many people were calling Geto ‘Noritoshi Kamo’ after just one glance. This ability could have been so helpful in regards to the things they’d planned in Shibuya. Though it seemed the majority of their planning had been but a simple cover for whatever Geto’s actual plan was.

Mahito followed along like a lost puppy, he felt fairly weak despite Geto healing him and somehow rejuvenating all of his energy. It was as if the Idle Transfiguration that he’d used for Geto in that moment had taken up nearly all of his strength again in just one motion. While Geto had brought him along upon escaping Shibuya, they hadn’t had a moment of rest for Mahito to gain his energy back or even for Geto to help him get energy back either. 

The curse didn’t often feel weak, but after his fight with Itadori and needing to hide behind Geto just to survive, he was at a loss.

However, Mahito also was feeling strangely thankful, without Geto he would have been killed by Itadori most likely. If it hadn’t been for the bond he’d formed with Geto, the man likely would have killed him in front of Itadori. He’d had the thought earlier that evening that he trusted Geto, but it seemed like the man he trusted was someone he didn’t know at all. Between the abilities the man kept secret, his identity, and the fact that Geto had almost killed him, Mahito didn’t know what to think.

All of these thoughts had been consuming Mahito for the duration of their journey to the Kamo Clan Residence. It wasn’t that he didn’t often find himself wondering about the differences between humans and curses or the philosophy of life and death in general, but he did wonder what it was that made Geto keep him alive if that wasn’t a part of his original plan. 

He remembered so vividly the look of confusion on Geto’s face, staring down at him as if Mahito had said something so unexpected. Mahito wondered how it was so unfathomable that he would beg for his own life, when everything he had done up until that point had been to continue growing as a curse?

Lost in thought, Mahito had barely noticed that Geto had led him into a room at the end of a hallway that seemingly was their destination. It wasn’t long before Mahito felt hands on his shoulders, moving him into a sitting position as if the curse was nothing more than a doll. Looking up, Mahito once again saw Geto looking down at him, though this time his eyes held no confusion in them at all. 

“I’m assuming you have questions, Mahito,” Geto asked, the tone of his voice no different than any other time he had needed to explain something to the curse. As if nothing had changed at all in the last several hours.

Mahito was unsure where to start. He wanted to ask many questions, about their plans, Geto’s own plans, the status of the other curses, and why he felt such strange and clearly human emotions within himself. His mind was foggy and he had no way of anticipating any of the answers Geto would give him. Things had devolved into chaos quicker than he could have ever imagined. One question stood out to Mahito above anything else.

“Who are you?” Mahito asked, the easiest of all the questions. Mahito knew there was more to the man that called himself Geto ever since he’d seen the mouth resting in the soft tissue of his brain.

Following Geto’s movements with his eyes, Mahito watched as the man sat down across from him, a soft smile still on his face. They appeared to be in a study of some sort, both seated in plush chairs that even Mahito acknowledged would be great for reading in.

“Why, I told you my name is Geto Suguru,” Geto said, a cheshire cat grin spreading across his face. “At least that’s the name for this body. It’s been a while since I’ve told someone new my name, but it is Kenjaku. You do know me a bit better than the last person I told, as they found out I wasn’t who they thought a little too late.”

The name was one Mahito had never heard before, Geto, or Kenjaku however wasn’t one to let all of his cards show at once. So the slow reveal of his identity wasn’t that much of a surprise to the curse. Though this name didn’t feel quite right either, he did remember Choso calling him by another name. Kenjaku seemed like he was in the mood to explain himself, or at least answer a few questions, so Mahito wracked his tired brain for more.

“But didn’t Choso call you Noritoshi Kamo? And hey while we’re at it, didn’t he say you were his father?” Mahito asked, his questions lacking the thoughtfulness he’d meant them to have. He sounded more like a confused child than a special grade curse.

Kenjaku chuckled at the wording of Mahito’s questions. It was no surprise that the curse wasn’t as articulate as he normally was, since he hadn’t expected Mahito could follow the conversation he’d shared with Choso earlier. At that point, Mahito was on death's door, so he didn’t mind catching the curse up to speed. Part of him was almost excited to tell him the truth, it wasn’t often that Kenjaku could trust someone enough to be honest about his identity. 

“Kamo, like Geto, is just the name of a person who’s body it was convenient for me to use. Without Geto’s body, our Shibuya plan never would have worked, and without Kamo’s body, I wouldn’t have been able to experiment as much with the Cursed Womb Death Paintings,” Kenjaku explained. He was surprisingly patient when speaking with Mahito. 

This actually didn’t surprise Mahito very much. Kenjaku was very knowledgeable about the Death Paintings, the curse had honestly considered him to be obsessed with them. This made much more sense though, it was his own experiment so of course he looked to perfect it by way of using a better curse. Some part of Mahito was proud, beyond being useful, to know that he was better than other curses did brighten his mood.

Mahito nodded, he didn’t need to get into the motives behind Kenjaku’s actions, he just was curious to know the man he’d grown close to. It was strange for Mahito, while there was always something off about him that the curse just couldn’t put his finger on, knowing he was a completely different person was strange. He didn’t feel betrayed, as this wasn’t something Kenjaku was keeping from him specifically, but knowing the intense human emotion of trust inside of him had been tested made Mahito wary.

“Were you going to kill me?” Mahito asked, an uncharacteristically somber tone filled his voice. He had truly felt like he had been at the cusp of death, finding himself alive at Kenjaku’s feet had been a surprise even once he realized the faith he’d had in the man.

Tilting his head to the side, Kenjaku observed Mahito. While he had expected the curse to have questions, he had expected them to be about what the plan was or where the other curses were. This question surprised him more, Kenjaku pondered just how it felt for a curse to have Curse Manipulation used on them. Perhaps he would have to find another sentient curse to test it on. Mahito had made too much of an impact on him to be used like that.

“I was just going to borrow your ability for a while. I wasn’t sure how much strength you had left and Idle Transfiguration was needed for my years of planning to come to fruition,” Kenjaku said. It wasn’t a lie so much as it was an omission of the truth, Mahito didn’t need to know the extent he would have gone to in securing the beginning of the culling games. “You’re too important to lose, you’re essentially the only one I can trust to stay and help me fill the world with chaos. Everyone else is too self serving, I know you want the same future I do.”

Mahito once again found himself pondering his feelings as a curse. After being forced to face the truth that he would put his life in Kenjaku’s hands, Mahito had barely had any time to think about just what that meant. The humanity in his emotions made the curse uncomfortable, but it had been what saved his life. The bond between the two of them was stronger than he’d expected. If Kenjaku trusted him as well, perhaps he wouldn’t mind continuing to work with the man. 

Kenjaku patted the empty space next to him on the chaise lounge. Part of Mahito wanted to stay put indignantly, he hated to be ordered around after all. Before Mahito could think to turn his nose up at the man, he found himself slowly migrating from one side of the room to the other. The seat was soft, reminding Mahito of how comfortable it was to just sit in the sand. 

An arm quickly found its way around Mahito’s shoulder, Kenjaku turning the curse so that they were facing each other. Their eyes met for a moment, but Kenjaku’s stare was too intense. Mahito’s eyes lifted to stare at the stitches in his forehead.

“What if I don’t want to work with you? I’m not going to let you control me just because you saved me,” Mahito pouted. The conflict inside him had already nearly died out, but Mahito wanted to be clear that he still didn’t want to be used. Creating chaos with the man did sound fun, if he could grow stronger and get to play with more humans Mahito would sign up for nearly anything. 

Kenjaku chuckled softly, his other hand coming up to cradle Mahito’s cheek. He had always found Mahito’s self serving nature endearing, the curse reminded him more of a lover playing hard to get every day. 

Mahito’s words were betrayed by his own body, pliant and welcoming of Kenjaku's touch. The man tilted Mahito’s face up, moving their lips ever closer together. 

“I’ll make it worth your while, all you have to do is trust me,” Kenjaku whispered before leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to the curse’s lips. Mahito immediately melted in Kenjaku’s arms, kissing the man back at a pace that the curse let him set. 

They could talk more about what Kenjaku had in store for the future later. Now was a time to celebrate a successful plan, what better way than to get lost in each other?

[mossolantern]

Miraculous Warrior Cats AU

i have a few ideas for how a ML Warrior Cats AU could work, so im just gonna share them because it’s 4am and I’ve not slept (it’s pretty canon-divergent but i really tried my best to make it seem like it could work within the warriors universe!) 

this is going to be a kind of long-ish post!

First things first, i feel like the miraculouses could be one of a few things:

A) The miraculouses could be shards of the once full Moonstone that got left behind so many years ago in the forest territories, since the Moonstone used to be the clans’ main connection to StarClan 

B) They could be similar to the StarClan-given powers that The Three got in POT and OOTS, villains instead receiving their powers from the Dark Forest

C) They could be a type of ancient relic, much like The Stick™️ that Jayfeather used to travel back in time and become Jay’s Wing, however, each different relic would hold a different power

I’m a bit iffy on option B, but with A or C the relics or shards would give the holders the benifit of a different appearance and different scent to avoid being found out too easily

I feel like Hawkmoth, no matter the what option is used, would manage to draw his powers from the Dark Forest with the help of the evil cats and angry lost souls that reside there. Perhaps instead of an akumatization, it’s a possession? (which are pretty similar already, i suppose) 

and if it isn’t a possession, it technically could still work as an akumatization, with butterflies/moths that come from the Dark Forest, full of corrupted energy.

most of the abilities are a bit difficult to translate into warriors, but also this is my ideas post and i get to make the rules! (though, for the sake of not just making overpowered battlecats, once their powers are used they would still have a time-limit before they de-transform

Cataclysm could still easily work, perhaps instead of absolutely destroying everything it touches through rusting it/turning it to rubble, it works more like uncontrollably brutal strength, a single swipe could take down a tree when activated or a rock could be cracked in half with just a pounce.

Lucky Charm and Miraculous ladybug are a bit harder to conceptualize, seeing as it involves creating something out of nothing/ fixing what was destroyed. While Lucky Charm could still work, it’s a bitch of a stretch, but maybe rather than creating something that will help the problem be solves, it causes a vague sign from StarClan, that way you’d still have to be creative to solve your issue. I feel like Kwamis would also be interesting in this AU. They could spirits bound to whatever relic or shard the holder has, or if you’re going with the StarClan-given powers angle, maybe it’s like a Cinderheart scenario, where she was a reincarnation of Cinderpelt and at times seemed to have extensive knowledge of herbs despite never training as a medicine cat as Cinderheart (she had her spirit inside of her i THINK? but was also still her own cat- it’s a bit foggy, i haven’t read that arc in a while) What i’m thinking of is basically a mentor that’s a spirit cat. it’s now almost 5am so i’m going to end this here thank you for reading this haha

any of these ideas are free to use! just tag me if you do (i’d love to see it :D)

i’m going to list a few possible names for Marinette/Ladybug and Adrien/CatNoir, some mirror eachother, some don’t :] Also yes, much like Heatherpaw and Lionpaw in POT, their superhero names are warrior names they made up themselves

Adrien - Sunpaw (Sunshine), Goldenpaw (Goldensky), Honeypaw (Honeylight) 

Cat Noir- Blackmask, Crowstrike, Darkwhisker, Ravenshade

Marinette - Moonpaw (Moonlight), Stormpaw (Stormheart), Slippaw (Slipstep) Ladybug - Specklebug, Beetlespot, Redclover, Spottedwish

[thinking1bee]

When It Reigns Part 10

Requested by Anonymous

Pairings: Kara Danvers x Reader

Tags: Angst, Kryptonian!Reader, Parent!Reader, Parent!Kara, Estranged Parent, Graphic Depictions of Injuries, Blood, Humor, Bad Dreams, Memory Loss

Everything Taglist: @sammy90682 @nobody13 @owloftheshadows @captain-josslett @camslightstories @worldovart @finleyfray @acertainredhead @sammm9068 @reginassecretlover

“God, I remember everything,” you murmured as Lena stuck sensors to your forehead and chest.

“What do you remember?” she asked as she worked methodically.

“I remember visiting Elizabeth and finding out I’m an alien. I remember finding out that I was adopted. I vaguely remember being in the desert for something.”

You squinted as you tried to remember specifics, but nothing was coming back.

“I do remember a cave of sorts. It was some sort of large structure, but I don’t remember where it is or what it’s for.”

You were quiet as your thoughts consumed you. “I don’t remember my time as Reign. M-maybe it’s for the best.”

Lena nodded as she turned on several machines. She was quiet as she thought about what to say next.

“Y/n, I need to isolate and identify what exactly is causing the change. I know that pain and extreme stress triggers it, but I need to find the enzyme. What I have attached to your head are electrodes that are going to send electric shocks straight through your brain. If my hypothesis is correct, then it should trigger Reign.”

You stared directly at the ceiling, you mind surprisingly blank given what Lena said to you, but you were exhausted. The last several months had been wearing you down without you consciously realizing that they were, and now that you did, you could feel the weight of the stress and fatigue sit heavily on your shoulders.

“Is it going to hurt?” you asked numbly.

Lena cleared her throat as she fiddled nervously with her tablet. “I’ll be here with you every step of the way.”

“That isn’t want I asked,” you interjected. “Is it going to hurt?”

Lena sighed and nodded. “Yes.”

You closed your eyes as you took a deep, steadying breath. “Everyone will be safe. Safe away from me.”

“Angel is completely safe. She’s at-”

“Don’t!” you yelled, your fists clenched by your sides. “Don’t tell me where she is.”

Lena nodded. If you knew, then Reign would know. She could possibly do something to hurt her, and you wouldn’t forgive yourself if that happened.

“Are you ready?” she asked as she prepped the machine to the correct voltage. You nodded.

Lena steadied herself as she flipped a switch. You heard the hitch pitch whine of the electricity milliseconds before a bolt of it was zapped into your head. It hurt. The lightning hot, concentrated energy passed through you, ripping the sensitive tissues of your brain apart.

***

Kara hadn’t seen Reign in hours. She all but disappeared into thin air during their last fight. To make matters worse, she couldn’t get a hold of you. She saw the texts from Lena. Why was Angel with her? Where was her wife? What was going on???

The moment Kara landed at the DEO, she called you again, only to be disappointed when the call went straight to voicemail.

“Hey baby. This may be my third or fourth message in like 20 minutes, but please give me a call back. I’m worried.”

Kara sighed as she ended the call, her finger tapping her phone nervously as she thought about what to do.

“Kara? Is everything alright?” Alex asked her. She held a stack of paperwork in her arms and she happened to be walking by.

“No, I need to talk to you.”

She didn’t give Alex a chance to respond. Kara dragged her by the bicep and pulled her into the nearest room, closing the door behind them.

“Okay?” Alex said as she placed the papers down. “What’s going on?”

“Okay, I don’t know if I’m going crazy, but have you ever reached that point in your relationship when you know something is wrong? I mean the word itself is an understatement, but something is going on, Alex. I know it.”

“Yeah, sure, we’ve all been there.”

“No, Alex that isn’t what I mean. I mean like something is going on with Y/n,” Kara elaborated as her hands flailed wildly in the air. “I have no way to explain what’s going on, but I know it’s something.”

Alex looked at Kara, really looked at her. She had never seen her sister like this. She was exasperated and unless it was incredibly serious, she wouldn’t even bother talking to her about it at all. Alex knew that Kara would just handle it herself if it was an easy situation.

“What has she been doing?”

“She been disappearing at random times and wouldn’t remember where she’s gone or what she’s done. She’ll forget things that she’s either said to me or Angel. I know that she knows that something is up because I can hear her lying to me. She’s keeping something from me and lies about it even though she knows when I can tell when someone is lying. I don’t want to be insecure or anything or come across as a distrustful spouse but she’s making me nervous.”

Alex nodded. That was a lot but, in her experience, the most logical approach was the direct one.

“You might have to be direct on this one, Kara,” she said, and Alex watched as Kara blanched. Despite being a literal superhero, Kara was very soft spoken and hated confrontation of any kind. So, Alex sympathized with her, pulling her sister in for a hug.

“I know but if something is going on, address it. And if I were you, I would do it sooner rather than later.”

Kara nodded. Alex was right of course. She usually was but there was the slight issue of not knowing where you were. She would have to pay Lena a visit instead.

“Thanks Alex. You always know what to do.”

***

The moment Lena zapped your brain, you were transported somewhere else. It was like being violently thrusted out of body. Your soul was ripped from your chest, the act painful within itself. You lost all feeling and all sense of self, and by the time you could comprehend what was happening to you, you found yourself in a dark, foggy forest.

You sat up. The twigs and debris of the forest floor poked into your skin painfully. You could practically feel the mugginess of the atmosphere on your skin. Wherever you were, it was very real, and you knew that you weren’t alone. You could feel eyes on you, watching your every movement, honing in on your every breath. You heard a twig snap a little further away than where you were, and you were on your feet in an instant.

You were being cornered so you speak. You could tell that for every step back that you took, something was taking a step forward, closing you in. Would it be sensible to stay? Or would it be smarter to run knowing full well you didn’t have a place to run to? Whatever answer you would have come to, it wouldn’t have mattered. Reign appeared out of the darkness, super speeding to you and grabbing you by the neck to hoist you up. You choked on her steely grip, the terror rising inside of you as you saw the monster that wore your face. Reign looked at you at you could see the cold apathy in her eyes as she regarded you neutrally.

“You, human, are the only thing keeping me back. Eliminating you is the next step.”

You watched in horror as Reign’s eyes, your eyes, glowed red and all you could do was scream as you struggled in vain against her strength.

***

You woke up screaming, your scared cries echoing in the lab as Lena struggled to calm you down.

“Y/n! You’re okay!” you heard her say to you, but you shook your head rapidly.

“I can’t go back there! Lena, please don’t make me!”

Lena froze as she absorbed what you said. “You went somewhere?”

You nodded as you sat up. Sweat dribbled down your forehead and you swallowed air down by the mouthfuls as you tried to calm your racing heart.

“Where did you go?”

“To some forest. It was too dark to make out anything else, but she was there.”

“Reign?”

You nodded. “Please tell me you got what you needed.”

You were dismayed when Lena shook her head. “We need to go at it again.”

“I can’t go back there, Lena. I can’t.”

“I haven’t isolated the cause of the transformation. You went under and came out of it so fast. We have to try again.”

“You don’t have a Worldkiller scratching at the walls of your subconsciousness! It felt like I was dying, drowning! And she’s too strong. I can’t go back there!”

Lena stood by your side, and she took your hand. “Y/n, listen to me. You’ve seen what Reign is capable of. You’ve seen the damage. You’ve seen what she’s willing to do to accomplish her goals. If we don’t do this, there’s no telling what will happen, or who would survive her.”

You closed your eyes as you thought of Angel and Kara. They were all that you had, and you needed to protect them, even if you had to protect them from yourself. You were terrified of going back to face Reign, but you were terrified more of the thought that they would get hurt more because of your cowardice. That’s what solidified your resolve. All the world was important, yes, but they were your center. Kara and Angel were the two reasons for why you kept going. Without them, you would be no one. So, you took a deep breath and lied back down.

“Okay,” you whispered. Lena nodded.

“Okay.”

She stepped back and powered up the machine. “In 3, 2, and 1.”

You gasped when you felt an electric shock rip through you.

***

Kara had just stepped foot into L-Corp and found Lena in her personal lab when she stopped in her tracks. She knew all about the extra room and a long time ago, Lena had given her access to it in case Kara needed to find her.

Lena still didn’t know her secret identity as a superhero so before coming over, she changed into civilian clothing. It would raise questions if Kara showed up as Supergirl to thank her in person for taking care of her daughter, and that’s what she was here to do. Except her words of gratitude fell of her lips, and instead shock filled her body. She saw you, her wife, laying on a medical bed while Lena, her best friend, was standing by while your body shook for a second before going lax.

“What is going on??” Kara demanded as she stepped into the room.

Lena yelped before turning around, her eyes wide with surprise as she struggled to provide an explanation.

Part 11

[tonymystarks]

Let Me Keep You Warm - Chapter 1: SteveTony Fic

Tony gets a injured on the way to a battle. The boys are also lost in the woods and there is only one bed. (Protective Steve is my fav, can you tell?)

*

Tony knew a thing or two about waking up in strange places. 

When Tony was young, M.I.T young, he would fall asleep in the library or on Rhodey’s room floor. It was also the start of working so long in the lab that he would pass out in front of whatever project he was working on at the time.

He also knew about waking up in places that he had no memory of being. 

After long nights of drinking, holes in events that happened were something to be expected. The feeling that accompanied was always a dead giveaway of how he came to be in this place.  Tony was intimately familiar with that feeling.

This, however, was something different.

Tony’s body felt sore, not in a hungover way; it was a whole-body ache. Like he had been hit by something big. Had he been hit by something big? He couldn’t remember, and his brain was so foggy. He was also cold, which didn’t make sense. The Iron Man suit kept him warm, but he wasn't wearing it. Why wasn’t he wearing it? 

Slowly the fog around him started to lift, and he remembered that he was headed toward a battle. He was in the quinjet, being briefed about 4 minutes out, flying over a middle-of-nowhere forest when they had been struck. He hadn’t been wearing his suit yet.

He hadn’t been alone, though. Someone was with him. Who was with him? 

Just as he was trying to remember, a voice cut through the fog, trying to shake him out of his dream-like state.

“Tony? Tony, please, sweetheart, I need you to open your eyes for me.” The voice, while steady, had an edge of desperation to it. 

Tony knew that voice; he trusted that voice. He should do what that voice is saying.

Tony slowly opened his eyes and waited for them to focus. The blurry shape started to become clearer the more that he blinked. 

He saw the out-of-focus person start to move, cradling Tony’s body. The person's face was close enough that Tony could feel their breath on his face.

“Oh, thank God,” the voice- Steve! The voice was Steve’s- sounded relieved.

Tony worked to focus on Steve’s face. He could see the tension, the worry line that Steve got when he tried to stay calm. 

“Hey cap, how ya’ doing?” Tony took stock of their surrounding as he spoke

“How am I? Tony, you’re the one that was knocked out after being shot out of the sky! I’d be a lot better if I knew if you’re injured.” Steve proceeded to run his hand up and down Tony’s arms and ribs, feeling for any breaks. 

“I’m fine, Captain Worrywart. I’ve had worse,” and he wasn’t lying. As much as he was confused and sore, this wasn’t nearly close to other experiences he had been through in his life.

“I know, but that doesn’t mean you’re still not hurt. We are alone out here, and it’s better that we know now before it gets any worse.” 

Tony finally looked around as Steve finished speaking. Besides the skid from where the quinjet had crashed and its smoking twisted wreckage, there was nothing around but trees. 

“Well, shit.”

“Yeah.” Steve sighed.

Tony sat up, moving out of reach of Steve, which he didn’t want to do. The feel of Steve’s arm around him helped ground him, keeping the panic at bay. Tony didn’t like this. He was sure that the team would find them, but how long would that be? They still had the battle to fight, and that would take priority. He had to concentrate; they couldn’t stay here. 

“I’m OK. I mean, I feel like I was shot out of the sky, but what can you do? I can walk, and we need to find somewhere safe. It's cold, and those clouds look like it's gonna snow.” Tony moved to stand up, wobbling on his feet as he did. 

Steve moved quickly to help steady him, grabbing his elbow to help stay upright. The tension in Steve's shoulders was becoming visible again.

“Tony…” 

“Steven, I am fine. We have to get moving. Put that tactical brain to work and figure out where the best direction for us to start walking is.” 

“Right, OK. You’re right. Who knows when the team is going to be able to get out here. I think I saw a structure back before we got hit, so if we walk back the way we came, we should be able to find it. A couple miles out, I think,”  Steve said, turning in the direction of the crash.

“Well then, let’s get walking” Tony started to walk, only to stumble as his whole body protested the movement.

He had had worse injuries for sure, but he was hurting. He hoped that Steve didn't notice, but he was never that lucky. 

“That’s obviously not going to work, Tones. Here, get on.” Steve turned his back to Tony and squatted.

“Get on where? What are you talking about?” 

“You can’t walk, you're most likely more hurt than you are willing to tell me, and I’m not going to let you make it worse. So get on my back; I’m going to carry you. It’ll go faster.” Steve was talking like this was a normal everyday thing, like he was offering a piggyback ride. 

“I can walk! I’m a strong independent Iron Man.” Tony heard Steve huff slightly in what sounded like an attempt to stifle a laugh. 

“I know that you are, but I’m here to help you. Let me take care of you.” 

Through all the pain and worry, that statement made Tony flush. Tony wanted to pretend that Steve felt that way, that he really wanted to take care of him, but Tony knew it was only within this context. Tony was injured, and Steve was just offering this as a courteous gesture, one friend to another.

“You OK there? We need to get moving” Steve’s words drew Tony out of his thoughts. 

“If you insist,” Tony did the best he could to get himself onto Steve’s back, but his injuries wouldn’t let him.

The position put too much pressure on the ribs, and the walking was just going to make it worse. Tony figured he would bite his lip and tough out the pain, but Steve… Steve knew that something was wrong, even without Tony saying anything. Steve took Tony off his back and turned around. Before Tony could say anything, Steve scooped him up into his arms. One arm under his knees and one was supporting his back.  The blush that Tony worked to fight down came back full force. 

“Steve…”

“Nope, I don’t want to hear it. I’m not going to hurt you any more than you are, and we need to move. This is the best option.” Steve set off walking, the quick pace should be jarring to Tony, but Steve was holding him steady.

Tony knew he should protest and shouldn’t feel the way he did, so safe and protected, but his brain fought against him with every passing moment. In this position, Tony could believe that nothing was going to hurt him. Steve was a barrier between him and the rest of the world.

Before he realized it, the adrenaline was leaving his body, and his head was resting on Steve’s chest. When he became aware of this, he lifted his head. Steve was already carrying him; he was going to bury his head in Steve’s neck. That didn’t sit well with Steve.

“Doll, it’s OK. You can rest. I’ve got you.” Steve adjusted his grip so that Tony had no choice besides resting his head in the crook of Steve’s neck.

The words Steve said didn’t really register. He was too busy soaking body heat Steve was throwing off. Tony was starting to shiver, whether that was from being cold or from shock was anyone’s guess, but Steve just gripped him tighter and walked him with a newfound determination. Tony’s eyes slipped close before he knew it; he was letting his consciousness drift in and out.

Tony had no idea how much time had passed when you felt the sway of Steve’s walking stop and Steve’s voice prying his eyes open. 

“I know you’re tired, Tony, but I have to put you down.” Steve was speaking to him so gently. It sounded like he was trying his hardest not to startle him.

“I’m not tired. I’m okay, Cap.” Tony said as he was being set down in front of an old wooden cabin.

It was obviously run down in a way that made it seem like no one had been in it for a while. There was ivy climbing up the sides of the walls, and pieces of the stairs had fallen away with rot. The front door looked to be covered in spider webs, and the porch in an unknown number of bugs.

“Home sweet home,” Tony muttered under his breath. 

“Hopefully, it’ll keep you warm while we wait. Stay here; I’m gonna check that it’s safe.” Steve walked towards the front door, moving around to avoid any of the wood that had fallen away.

He swatted away the spider webs and opened the door, cautiously walking inside. He was only in the cabin for about 45 seconds before he appeared in the doorway.  He walked down to Tony and put an arm around his waist, basically carrying him in the cabin.

“It’s small and musty, but it’s solid and has a bed.” Tony was then set down on the bed in question, sending a puff of dust into the air. 

Tony looked around and saw a small kitchenette with what looked like a hot plate and a mini-fridge that Tony didn’t even want to consider opening. There was also a couch tucked away in the corner, covered in all sorts of blankets that were probably just as dusty but looked more and more inviting the colder Tony got. Like Steve was reading his mind, he gathered up the blankets from the couch and brought them over to Tony on the bed.

He set them down and then picked what looked like the softest one and wrapped it around Tony’s shoulders. He draped it so carefully, and his hand lingered on the side of Tony’s neck, thumb subtly rubbing his cool skin.  

“You’re cold.” There was no questioning in Steve’s voice.

“I keep telling you that I’m fine, Winghead. Please stop worrying. You’re going to give yourself an ulcer.” Tony’s body began to slump back on the bed as he spoke. The last of the energy he was so desperately clinging to was leaving his body. 

“Yeah, sure, Shellhead. Whatever you say,” but Steve was only half listening.

Steve was busy walking around the room, pulling back tarps, and opening cupboards. He pulled out what looked like something freeze-dried and a book of matches. He left the food on the counter and walked over to the tiny fireplace Tony hadn’t noticed. There were a few pieces of firewood already in the fireplace and some next to it. 

Tony watched as Steve started a fire while he gave in to his body’s needs and laid his head down on the scratchy pillow. He was sure that he was going to be able to stay awake, but then again, he thought that when Steve had been carrying him outside. Suddenly, Tony felt a hand run through his hair and realized that Steve had walked over to him. The hand was so lovely, and Tony knew that Steve was doing it on purpose.

“I’m sure that the team will be here soon. You’re going to be OK; we’re going to be ok. I got you, sweetheart. Just warm up now, and rest. There you go. I’ll be here when you wake up.” 

And with that, Tony fell into a dreamless sleep.

[sykilik101]

Moments With You

There's no such thing as coincidence. I don't believe for a second anyone else besides her was supposed to be there that day. Fishing and owning a bike that just happened to have a Pikachu-sized basket?

We were meant to meet.

xxxxx

"Sorry I'm late!"

We'd already been traveling together for a few months now, and I'd gotten a pretty good idea of who Misty was. Quick to anger, an unwavering sense of right and wrong, and a love of water Pokémon that even I couldn't hope to match. We were past the point of simple acquaintances and could now be considered friends, but there were sides to Misty I had yet to learn about.

One of those was her with her hair down.

Her voice pulled me from my PokéDex, a speechlessness overtaking me as Pikachu's gleeful exclamation blended with the music and crowd. Everything in the background was blurry from the lantern smoke and lights, but Misty standing in her pink kimono, fan in hand, was immediately seared into my mind. For a second I was reminded of when I'd seen Giselle at that Pokémon Tech place we'd visited; she was pretty in that "make my face warm" way. I'd never gotten that feeling from Misty before, but now-

"Come on, Ash, let's dance!"

Her hand found its way into mine, and a dizzying warmth accompanied the softness of her fingers. My voice trembled a bit as I agreed, and with her extended invitation to Pikachu I couldn't help but laugh. She pulled me onto the dance floor with an infectious jubilance that suited her better than I could have thought. It was the first time that the two of us, together, whittled the hours away in the company of food, dancing, and a budding best friendship.

That was also the first time I felt soon-to-be-familiar nerves in my stomach around her.

xxxxx

"Okay."

"Right."

Traveling through a foggy forest towards a town that was supposedly home to ghost Pokémon didn't have the same energy as "summer festival," but at least I was holding Misty's hand again. It was Brock's idea, which was the perfect excuse for me to hold hers for longer than a few seconds. Even with my glove in the way, the tips of my fingers pressed into her skin, and I felt an abnormal heat surge through my cheeks. I wondered if I could convince the others that we should come through this forest on the way back.

I'd held out my hand to Brock so he wouldn't get lost; leave it to him to grab Pikachu's tail and ruin the moment.

xxxxx

"What are you two doing here?"

At this stage of our friendship, it was easier to hide any displays of enamorment behind a curt answer or a crude decision. I'd had enough practice with starting arguments after being caught staring, but I still hadn't gotten many opportunities to compliment her while maintaining plausible deniability. It was next to impossible to say something like "Your eyes are pretty" inconspicuously, so any chance I could get to say something about her, even hidden behind sarcasm or jokes, was something I wouldn't let go to waste.

I wasn't sure why Misty even agreed to help Melvin out in the first place. Misty's not an especially kind person, so agreeing to be some magician's assistant, in a Goldeen dress of all things, would definitely be high on my "things Misty would never do" list. Despite that, I couldn't help but think that she looked really...really pretty. Like, "the Maiden's Peak festival" pretty, but this time, I wanted to tell her. Hiding a compliment behind an annoying tone sounded like a good idea, and since starting an argument with her was easiest when she was in a flustered state, this was the perfect cover for me to say-

"That's a real cute outfit, Misty."

Surprisingly, I managed to keep a straight face and not stutter my words, despite inexperience threatening to wipe away the snarky tone I was going for. I was ready for the verbal retaliation she was famous for, but the sudden complaints of the audience demanding a show was a welcomed distraction. Taking a front row seat I savored the feeling of victory at having been able to call Misty cute and not end up with her mallet on my head.

It's too bad she didn't put her hair down for the outfit, though...

xxxxx

Every story I've heard of mermaids says that they're always extremely beautiful. Mermaids probably aren't real, but I think Misty is making me a believer.

xxxxx

"Careful, Ash, all that food can make your belly as big as your head."

I like that we're now at the point where her teasing comments are all in good fun. Of course, even if it wasn't, nothing was gonna bring my mood down. I'd already won my first two rounds, and I even got to eat for free thanks to a fan of mine. After having not had a meal for the entire day, all Pikachu and I wanted was to dig in.

Misty's company wasn't unwelcomed, either.

I wanted to answer her, but she happened to catch me mid-chew. My response was automatic and ready, but before I swallowed, a thought came to me. It was a nickname I'd thought about before, and I'd never found the right moment (or courage) to try it out. However, my post-battle elation made my worries feel insignificant, and I figured even if she didn't like it, I could brush it off as me just being too happy about my success to care.

"Thanks, Mist, but I can't help it! I got all this food for free! That's 'cause she happens to be a big fan of mine!"

Mist. I like the way it sounds, and the fact that she didn't immediately get that Misty eye twitch means she didn't dislike it. Although, maybe it's 'cause I'm so used to calling her Misty, but Mist feels a bit...awkward. Almost like how you'd call your girlfriend a cute nickname.

...Misty as my girlfriend...

"Ash, everybody in the Pokémon League gets to eat here for free."

So much for the fan of mine. I think, maybe, I'll keep Mist in my back pocket for future use, when it feels right to give her such a cute nickname.

xxxxx

"You're crazy!"

"Crazy is right! Never in a million years!"

She didn't have to deny it that hard...

xxxxx

"You and I will be married someday, too."

"Mhm…"

I didn't really register what Misty had said right away. My thoughts were more focused on how we were going to stay overnight in this park and hearing this girl - Temacu, was it? - talk about marrying Brock. For some reason I half-expected Brock to be going along with her imagination; after all, wasn't he always talking about cute girls and how he'd want to be with them? Did he not consider Temacu cute? Maybe he just doesn't want to marry her right after meeting her. I guess that makes sense. It would be kinda weird to want to marry someone if you're not in-

...wait, her and I, married?

"Huh?!"

I recognized that look in her eyes. Throughout our travels, anytime Misty messed up or said something she didn't mean to, her eyes always did that same thing; I could practically hear her screaming "I didn't say anything!" in her head.

The thing is, she did say it, and my brain started spinning all sorts of ideas on what she was implying by that. She could have just meant, in the future, I'd be married and she'd be married, but not to each other. That'd probably be just what she'd say if I brought it up. But...what if she was actually thinking that her and I would be married to each other? Was that something Misty thought about? Would she want to marry me?

Temacu's dad showed up, and after some talking we were invited to stay at their house instead of the park. I should have been more excited at being able to sleep in a bed instead of my sleeping bag, but Misty's response kept replaying in my mind. Even if her words hadn't registered to me right away, her voice had been calm with a bit of that daydreamy tone she used once in a while. I couldn't remember her sounding like that when talking about me.

Having packed our camping gear back up, our group began heading into the town. Brock and Temacu lead the way, with her dad shortly behind, and Misty and I bringing up the rear. As we walked I stole a glance at her from the corner of my eye. She seemed lost in a thought, her hands absentmindedly rocking Togepi to and fro as the little Pokémon looked on the brink of a nap. Eventually her gaze caught mine and she turned towards me.

"Is something the matter, Ash?"

I could ask her right now. With the others ahead of us, we had the privacy to have such a conversation. It wasn't a hard question at all. Were you really thinking about us two being married together? My mouth started to open, but something about the way she looked at me held my voice back. If I was wrong, it would just end in another argument, which would fit the status quo between her and I like usual.

But, deep down, I think I couldn't handle the idea of us fighting about marrying each other.

I needed more time to see how she felt about me. I'd spent enough time with an erratic heartbeat around her to know where I stood, but something about not knowing how she felt about this scared me enough to close my mouth, turning back towards the others.

"It's nothing."

Maybe her and I would be married someday. First, however, I needed to find out if she even liked me the way I liked her.

xxxxx

"Will I...see you again?"

"You will. I swear."

The dirt was quieter now, disturbed by two feet rather than six. The road from Viridian City to Pallet Town was familiar to me; the loneliness wasn't. The tears had subsided, but the ache in my chest was still as strong as ever as I slowly trekked down the dusty road.

I'd been ready to tell her. The mood had been perfect, if a bit more somber than I would have hoped for. Shades of purple and orange painted the sky, the sunset burning to match her hair. There was no hint of teasing or malice in the air, and the bike stationed by her side felt nostalgic; it made me think of how far we'd come since the first time I'd taken it from her. That time together, however, had come to an end, as a phone call from her sisters had sent us our separate ways.

However, it wouldn't last forever.

The handkerchief felt soft in my hands, wrapped around the bento Brock had given me. The corners were tied up perfect and sweetly, as if she'd done this for me a million times before. Her fingers had moved so effortlessly to fold the cloth, knot it tightly before offering it to me. What she'd really given me wasn't just tangible, and I think we both knew that. I know I can be a little dense, and I usually let my optimism take over when I'm unsure of something, but I think I got the message pretty clearly this time. In that moment, I could see exactly what I was looking for in Misty's eyes. Even if I hadn't said anything, I felt like she knew what I wanted to tell her.

There was something she wanted to tell me, too.

My heart, still deflated, skipped as a flush clawed its way up my face. I could be crazy and wrong on a million levels, but I'm pretty sure she feels the same way. Even if I'm either, or both...I can tell her now. Maybe I don't need a perfect moment or the right words, but I'll be ready when I see her again. She'd found her way into my life once before, and she'll do it again.

After all, there's no such thing as coincidence.

______________________________________________________

I gave myself permission to be less “strict” about trying to write Ash in character, deciding I’d let myself kinda run wild with maybe using words or descriptions you might not expect from him. This was fun to write, and I hope you enjoyed it.

[mimichan2018]

Allegiance - Chapter 1 - The Forbidden Forest

It was dark and cold and oppressing and oh-so-familiar … Harry knew exactly where he was despite not being able to see. The Forbidden Forest. Again. Fuck.

He instantly recognised the tingling of the green burst of light all over his body, from his toes and his fingertips to the scar on his forehead, which was hurting like hell. It felt like being struck by lightning. How very ironic, he thought, that the great Harry Potter was to meet his end as he had started – with a bolt of lightning.

There was some poetic mirroring there somewhere, he was sure, and his subconscious may have enjoyed torturing him further on the issue, but his ears were now buzzing loudly, refusing to let his mind drift. It didn’t help either that he could still hear the echo of the Killing Curse that had just hit him square in the chest, resonating within him like the soundwaves of a bass.

Harry knew this was a dream. One of the many similar dreams he had been having since the War had ended a month ago.

There was something quite comforting about knowing that what he was experiencing wasn’t real, at least not anymore, but reliving his death on repeat was far from a pleasant experience and not something he would wish on anyone, not even Draco Malfoy, he decided.

He was falling backwards from the force of the curse, his eyes tightly shut and his hands clenched into fists, waiting for the impact he knew would come. Thankfully, any minute now he would hit the hard ground and wake up, as he always did. He just needed to wait.

But, for the moment, he was falling, his mind focused on trying to keep calm.

Just another few seconds, he told himself, clenching his jaw tightly to stop his teeth from chattering.

He wasn’t complaining though; he liked to feel his scar again. Not that he would ever admit it, but it had always been something he could rely on to give him a sense of direction. Since Voldemort’s death, his scar had not hurt once, and although it had been a relief during the first few days, it had quickly turned into a void, a feeling of unease, as if a part of him was missing.

He hated to think about what it all meant, but the truth was that he missed the sense of purpose it had afforded him in the last seven years, even if it had been a doorway to the most dangerous dark wizard of their time. He knew it sounded ridiculous, but it didn’t change that fact, and this was his nightmare after all.

When he thought that he had waited long enough, he instinctively flung his arms behind, waiting for the familiar ground to crush against them and miraculously wake him up, but there was nothing there to meet his flailing hands. He was still ��� falling.

What the hell is going on? His strained inner voice screamed as he threw his arms sideways to try to reach out for something, anything. His mind was racing at an alarming pace when he failed to hit the ground after what now felt like … well, way too long …

Time in dreams really makes no sense at all, he thought. For all he knew, time could have stopped altogether. The idea of being stuck in time, dying forever on end, was terrifying, unbearable. A Groundhog Day joke made especially for him. He grimaced: irony again.

Panic engulfed him as his throat tightened and his hungry lungs began to desperately gasp for air, small spots of light flickering into his vision. When his hands frantically moved to his throat, however, fear morphed into detachment and a chilling thought whispered to him: Why fight it? It should have been the end then … You know that … In fact …

As the idea formed in his mind, Harry felt a pressure in his chest which had nothing to do with lack of air. He let the familiar feeling roll over him, seep through his soul until he was enveloped in nothingness.

I want this. This time, don’t let me wake up.

As the thought lingered, he felt a small, bitter smile pull at the sides of his lips and tears of relief run into his ears and hair.

Let it be the end. Please.

Just as he was about to let go completely, however, another voice burst into his head, full of dread and something akin to … hope.

“POTTER?!”

He would have recognised it anywhere, but it didn’t make any sense.

“Malfoy?” he mouthed, as his awareness kicked in again. A choked cry escaped him when he heard the boy scream in what could only be the same intense pain he had felt so many times himself.

Instinctively, Harry then did something he had never done before – although clearly this nightmare wasn’t like any of the others as Malfoy had certainly never appeared – he opened his eyes. All he saw was a faint flicker of blond hair, an outstretched hand and terrified grey eyes, before everything disappeared and he found himself staring at his wardrobe, his hands on either side of him, sitting up in sweat-soaked blankets, trembling.

It took him several minutes to catch his breath and register that he was in his room at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. He moved his fingers cautiously, then his toes and, when he felt confident that he could feel his body again, he stretched towards the nightstand to feel for his glasses. As he reached out, a wave of nausea swept through him and it was all he could do to pick them up and rush for the bathroom, banging his big toe against the doorframe on the way, before being violently sick.

When he felt that the worst was behind him, he rinsed the sink – he hadn’t made it to the toilet – and looked up at his foggy reflection in the mirror. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and awkwardly placed his glasses on his nose, hands still trembling from the vivid dream and the more recent strain on his body.

It was not unusual for him to be sick after one of these nightmares: in fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he had walked around without a cloud of nausea in the pit of his stomach. He had got used to it, though. It was, he thought, his new normal. He looked at his reflection and frowned.

Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived. The Boy Who Lived Again …

“The Boy Who Won’t Fucking Die!” he spat at the innocent mirror.

His frustration boiling over, he punched the glass with as much force as he could muster. It must have been enough because cracks appeared from the point of impact and the pain in his hand was certainly real. After taking a few ragged breaths, he reluctantly dragged his fist away, warm, red blood dripping into the sink. He half-smiled as he looked at the wound: physical pain was always a relief compared to his inner turmoil. He had become accustomed to these outbursts when he was on his own, even relied on them to keep his mind connected to reality. Why not, when all you need to do is …

“Tergeo,” he murmured, observing with morbid fascination as fragments of broken glass magically removed themselves from his knuckles and his blood started to coagulate.

He had become frighteningly good at wandless healing spells as he never seemed to have his wand ready when his outbursts occurred. Perhaps that’s a good thing, he mused.

He looked up at his reflection, now fractured and uneven, trying to calm his breathing.

Neither can live while the other survives. Trelawney’s voice rattled, unwanted, in his head.

Voldemort’s dead, he told himself for what felt like the hundredth time. Doesn’t that mean I should, I don’t know, be able to live? So why does it feel like I’m just surviving, even more than when I was tied to him? He swallowed with difficulty as the question that kept painfully pressing on his chest formed in his mind: Who am I without him?

The thought of having no answer to that question – or worse, that the answer was that he was nothing at all – was terrifying. A fresh wave of nausea threatened to take over again when a familiar snarl cut through it.

“Who do you think you are, Potter?” His last name was all but spat out with utter disgust. “Wait until they realise you’re not the perfect hero they think you are.”

Harry smiled at the memory of his teenage nemesis confidently taunting him in the safe corridors of Hogwarts, leaving him with an unexplained sense of … Longing, he realised, surprising himself.

“Well, there’s a first …” he said, shaking his head.

A sense of longing was not something he would ever have associated with, well, Malfoy. But so much had happened, and those taunts now had a comforting, almost homely, quality to them. And anyway, he knew deep down that Malfoy had always annoyingly hit the nail on the head when it came to understanding Harry’s insecurities, although he would never have acknowledged it as a teenager, of course. But now was different. He was no longer a child and he would be damned if he couldn’t admit it to himself, alone in his bathroom.

“You’re right, Malfoy,” he said slowly, staring to his broken reflection. “Who the hell am I?”

The nightmare came into focus again, and although it seemed to be slipping away as quickly as it had reappeared, he clung desperately onto the panicked voice, the painful scream, the flicker of blond hair, the outstretched hand and those haunted grey eyes.

Malfoy had always managed to ignite a fire in him, even when his energy seemed wholly depleted – and even if that fire was anger and hate, it was better than the emptiness he now felt, so he held on to the memory with more purpose this time and let his emotions swirl up. To his surprise, however, he didn’t manage to feel the same heart-wrenching hatred he was so used to associating with the boy, and his dream gave way to a real memory this time. Of Harry on his knees, his face distorted by Hermione’s stinging hex, staring into those all-too-familiar grey eyes that looked just as terrified as he felt. He remembered the silent understanding that had travelled between them as Malfoy lied to his father and Bellatrix. The glimmer of certainty he had felt at the time hardened and settled in his middle.

Malfoy had known it was him. He must have.

The unexpected look of disgust the boy had given his father that day flashed before his eyes, and he felt a sudden and overwhelming spark of curiosity.

“Why did you do it?” he whispered.

And that was that: he had to know. He was going to see the bastard even if it was the last thing he did. A thrill of excitement flooded his body. There was finally something he wanted to do. He tried not to linger on the fact that that something had everything to do with his second worst enemy and instead focused on what to do about it.

First, he had to find out when Malfoy’s trial was. Something in the back of his mind told him he already knew, but however much he racked his tired brain, it kept eluding him. It seemed that his short-term memory had been an unfortunate casualty of the War, in addition to his sanity and already limited sense of self-worth.

He looked up at the old clock on the bathroom cupboard, feeling his shoulders tense. Shit, it was only three thirty, not a decent enough time to wake anyone up, let alone a friend. He would have to wait.

Filled with a sense of purpose he hadn’t felt in weeks, he descended the narrow staircase to the basement kitchen – there was no way he was going to sleep again tonight – and made a strong cup of tea whilst cursing himself for forgetting something as important as the War Trials and Malfoy’s testimony.

******

The wall he was leaning against was humid and the cold air penetrating, but it was much better than last time, at least. He smiled to himself, his breath forming a cloud in front of him. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been there, but he knew that time in this place made no sense anyway. The only indication of its passage was how long his toenails had grown since the last time he’d looked down at his bare feet. There was no apparent source of light in the room, but there was an ever-present ghostly glow, barely enough for him to see the long strands of his black hair, but sufficient to feel his way around and make out that there were no openings anywhere. No doors, no windows.

The only objects in the room were a bucket, which would be magically emptied when its repulsive contents started to overflow, and a bowl of soup and crust of bread, which would materialise on the floor in one of the corners of the room. Which corner, however, seemed to be decided entirely at random and he could not discern a pattern to the sporadic arrival of the disgusting yet life-sustaining pittance.

Sometimes, it was hard to know which way was up or down in this place, so he always sat in one of the corners to give himself as much grounding as possible. He had learned the hard way to avoid the centre of the room at all costs: if he spent too long there, he knew he would lose himself forever. The swirling and hissing of the sea wind through every small crack in the walls, floor and ceiling only added to the very intentional sense of disorientation. Everything was made to make its inhabitant feel utterly powerless. Yet, his smile broadened.

*

Home, but not home. Lost. Alone. Where to go? The One must hide. Must hide. In the walls. Yes, the One knows how to hide. Others will come to find the One. Wait. Patience. But the One is hungry, so very hungry …

******

Harry had been pacing his living room for the best part of four hours when he felt confident enough to fire-call The Burrow. He knew Molly would be up already, busying herself in the kitchen, and he couldn’t wait any longer. As expected, she was putting breakfast on the table when his head popped into the fireplace, and she jumped.

“Sorry, Molly,” he mumbled as she waved her wand to repair the broken plate. “I should have owled …”

He regretted his words immediately when her face turned from surprise to disappointment. “Oh, Harry, what do you mean, you should have owled? This is your home too, you know?” She crouched in front of the fireplace and gave him the most motherly look only Molly Weasley could muster. “I don’t understand why you don’t just stay with us, dear. Why would you want to live on your own in that horri—”

“Is Hermione around?” he asked before she could launch into her now-customary tirade about his living arrangements, which always managed to put him in an even fouler mood than usual.

If she was offended by the interruption, she didn’t show it. “Yes dear, I believe she’s in the bathroom. Would you like me to tell her you called?”

He breathed out in relief, grateful she hadn’t invited him for breakfast this time.

“Yes, please. Thanks. It’s … er … quite urgent. Nothing bad, though,” he added quickly when her eyes widened to the size of two small saucepans.

He should have realised that, to other wizards and witches, “urgent” meant something very different coming from Harry Potter, namely that the end of the world was looming. He bit his tongue, trying to contain his irritation and managed an uncomfortable smile. “Speak soon, then,” he said, before disappearing without waiting for a reply.

Cold guilt seeped through him as soon as he pulled out of his fireplace.

“Why the hell is it so difficult?” he burst out to the empty room, kicking the foot of the coffee table in frustration.

He stared at a patch of burnt wallpaper, waiting for an answer. When it stubbornly stared back at him, refusing to help, he let himself fall onto the old, smelly sofa, his eyes drifting around the room. It was just as dusty, dark and uninviting as it had been when the place had been the Headquarters of the Order, when Lupin and Sirius … His thoughts stopped abruptly there as he felt his throat tighten with the strain of containing a sob. So, for lack of anything better to do, he closed his eyes.

He must have drifted off into a dreamless sleep, because he was suddenly awoken by the sound of someone cursing and kicking their way out of his fireplace, rubbing the top of a bright red mop of hair.

“Why is it so bloody low?” groaned a familiar voice.

“Ron? What are you doing here? I asked for …” He felt suddenly awkward.

“Er, yeah … right. Hermione thought this would be a good opportunity for us to, you know … speak. You don’t have to, though.” He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck uneasily. “It’s a girl thing, they think you have to talk about everything to know you’re still friends and stuff.” He chuckled but it didn’t quite make his eyes. “I know you’ll talk when you’re ready, mate. I just didn’t want Hermione to think I wasn’t trying hard enough … You know what I mean, right?” he added with a look begging for understanding.

Harry knew exactly what he meant. Since the start of his new relationship with Hermione, Ron had become both more and less confident in equal measure, which should have meant that nothing had changed, but that wasn’t how it had worked out. He seemed to have gained confidence in certain areas and lost it entirely in others. From Ron’s uncomfortable shifting from one large foot to the other, apparently Harry had become one of the latter.

“That’s okay …” Harry managed. Although, if he was honest with himself, he didn’t really want to discuss what was on his mind with Ron right now. That was exactly why he’d asked for Hermione in the first place. Unfortunately, there was no calling one without the other these days, as she spent most of her time at The Burrow.

And now, Ron was standing in his living room, eying the sofa longingly; he was not an early riser by any stretch and was fighting a wide yawn. He glanced nervously at Harry, and, after a second’s deliberation, sat down. He seemed relaxed, but Harry noticed that he had sat as far away from him as possible, a small reminder of the unspoken awkwardness that now floated between them. He wasn’t sure when or what had started it, but their friendship, which used to be as simple as breathing, had slowly become a frustrating maze.

Just as Harry’s insides started to smoulder like embers, a flash of green light appeared in the fireplace and a groggy-looking Hermione walked out, putting a shaky hand on the mantelpiece.

“I will never get used to travelling by Floo,” she croaked, with more vehemence than she could physically manage.

Ron jumped as though on fire and gently led her to the sofa.

“Thanks,” she said, gazing up at him with so much love Harry felt he had to look away, but couldn’t quite bring himself to, in some sort of masochistic way. And there it was again, brewing in him … That dark cloud of anger and emptiness he’d become so familiar with.

He had to say something, anything, to distract himself. He couldn’t be that person who wouldn’t be happy for his best friends, for the people without whom he wouldn’t have survived … but, as loneliness clung to him like a leech, all he managed was an awkward smile and a cough.

Using what could only be referred to as a sixth sense, Hermione turned a worried look in his direction.

“Er, Ron, love, could you make us tea please?” she asked, flashing a smile at her oblivious boyfriend.

Only too happy to be doing something useful for her, Ron nodded and left for the kitchen with an air of pride and determination that forced an affectionate smile out of Harry despite his dark thoughts.

Hermione quickly closed the distance between them, looking miserable. “I’m so sorry Harry. He’s been so keen to see you … and I couldn’t face telling him you’d asked to speak to me first …”

“It’s okay … I understand.”

“So … why did you call me?” she asked, her over-eagerness palpable.

He supposed it had been a while since he had contacted them. Looking at her genuine, caring face, he almost wanted to lie, tell her that all he wanted was to spend time with his best friend, but he knew she wouldn’t believe him, not after everything… He settled on the truth and, in any event, he couldn’t hold the question any longer.

“I, er … When’sMalfoy’strial?” he blurted out all at once.

Given the shock now written on her face, it was clear she had had several theories about his reason for calling, and Draco Malfoy’s trial date had not been one of them. “Er, on the first of June I think.”

Harry suppressed a smile at her awkward recovery before the weight of realisation fell into his stomach like a cold stone. “That’s … only two days away, isn’t it?”

He remembered now. Kingsley had told him about it, a week or so after the end of the War, but he hadn’t given it much thought then, not with everything else going on. And a month had seemed like a lifetime away – what with having died and been resurrected all in the space of an hour. Still, how had he lost track of time like this?

Hermione was frowning when he looked up after what must have been a suspicious amount of time.

“Why do you ask?” she queried cautiously. “I thought that after what happened last time, you’d want to avoid the Ministry at all costs …”

He shrugged, trying to keep his voice casual and hide the undeniable thrill of excitement combined with cold dread he was now feeling. “Just curious.”

He must have done a poor job of it because she looked less than convinced, but her next question, if there was to be one, went unasked when a beaming Ron came barging into the room with a tray of steaming cups of tea and biscuits.

They sat in silence for the next ten minutes, Ron lying on the rug and playing with the worn-out tassels, trying to avoid Harry’s eyes. Although they were used to silence – you didn’t go through life and death together without it – it was not the comfortable type they had once enjoyed, and they all knew it. There was an uneasy quality to it that made Harry shift in his seat and Hermione fidget with her jumper, until Ron couldn’t take it anymore and awkwardly rose to his feet, looked around the room and said something about promising a game of Quidditch to Ginny and George.

“You know how he is now … I need to keep my promises, however small …”

Although Harry knew all too well it wasn’t the only reason Ron wanted to leave barely after arriving, he understood completely. There was no need to remind him of the gaping hole Fred had left behind, or of Ginny’s broken heart, both of which were because of him.

And there it was again. That cloud of cold, seeping anger. Why was Ron not screaming at him?

“’Course, Ron.” He forced a smile. “Give them my … erm … best.”

Somehow love didn’t seem like the appropriate word to use right now, at least as far as Ginny was concerned. His friend returned the smile with what looked like relief and turned his gaze to Hermione, who was still staring at Harry, clutching her empty cup.

“You go first. I don’t play Quidditch anyway,” she said in a tone that didn’t leave room for negotiation.

From Ron’s pained expression, it was clear he wanted nothing more than to negotiate, but years of knowing her had taught him it was a lost cause, so he merely sighed and placed his own half-empty cup on the tray. He turned around, waving an awkward hand at Harry and throwing a casual “see you soon mate” in the mix, and then vanished into the fireplace.

Harry stared at the vacant spot Ron had occupied a few seconds ago, his shoulders tense, and waited for whatever Hermione had to say, but what came next was not the torrent of questions he had expected.

“You’re thinking of going, aren’t you? To testify, I mean … You know you don’t owe him anything, right?”

He could feel her eyes boring into him and he knew her well enough to know that it was taking every ounce of her self-restraint to wait for his answer, but when Hermione was determined, there was no stopping her. If he didn’t say something, they would be there for hours, and he had other things to do now that he knew Malfoy’s trial was only two days away. Plus, he could feel the cloud of anger gathering dangerously in his chest at her tone and didn’t want one of his outbursts to rear its ugly head – then she would definitely think he was mental, and that was not what he needed. What he needed was to speak to Kingsley, now.

He looked up at her, unblinking and hoping with everything he had that he would be convincing enough to end the discussion. “He didn’t rat us out when he could’ve. It’s only fair I return the favour by telling the truth, don’t you think?” Although his reply had come out a bit harsher than he had intended, she seemed to have been ready for worse and, to Harry’s disappointment pressed on.

“Is it really just that? Because you know what you’ll be putting yourself through by going there … What if it happens again? And” – she hesitated, not meeting his eyes – “it's only Malfoy …”

The tight lid he had been keeping on himself went flying in an instant.

“Just stop, Hermione, please. I know you’re trying to help but it’s not helping. I know what I can and can’t handle, okay?” He struggled to keep his voice even. “I died and still managed to come back to life, so I’m pretty sure I can handle a few ministry officials, The Daily Prophet and a former Death Eater, thank you very much! And YES, I AM SURE”, he bellowed at her dubious expression, “DESPITE WHAT HAPPENED LAST TIME! I WON’T LOSE IT!”

That, he thought, had definitely come out harsher than he had intended, particularly as he was now standing with his hands balled up in fists, plainly demonstrating her point, but he didn’t care anymore. He didn’t want to act like he wasn’t angry and he trusted Hermione to be strong enough to take it.

“I know you can make decisions for yourself, Harry, and I understand why you’re angry with them, but I’m your friend. And I know you … I …erm … I know.” She overemphasised the word in a tone that reminded him instantly of how she had sounded when teaching Ron to levitate a feather in what now felt like another life. “I know why you really want to do this, and honestly, I’m worried about you!”

“Well, you don’t need to be!” he replied, instinct taking over. “And what the hell do you mean by ‘I know why you really want to do this’? Oh yeah,” he added, sarcasm quivering in his voice, “the famous ‘Harry Potter Hero Complex.’ They should really coin the term and add it to the Magical Dictionary of Unwanted Afflictions of the Mind, don’t you think?”

He was starting to shout again, part of him aware that he was taking it too far, that he was being unfair, but he was just pleased with himself for not having punched the sofa already.

“I didn’t mean that, Harry ... Forget I said anything. I just thought—”

“Well, you thought wrong!” He cut off with more confidence than he felt.

Part of him was curious about what exactly Hermione had thought she knew. He wasn’t entirely sure he knew why attending the Trials was suddenly so important he had had to fire-call his friend at the crack of dawn on a Saturday morning, with no preamble despite not having so much as said “hi” to her for the past two weeks. His pride would not let him back down now, though, and he had succeeded in pushing her into silence, so he was not prepared to lose the advantage.

Apparently resigned that she wouldn’t get anything else out of him, and perhaps a little scared he would start yelling at her again, Hermione left shortly after, giving him one last half-frustrated, half-apologetic look, as if she could not quite make up her mind which emotion would win.

He ran a shaky hand through his hair, the dark walls closing in around him.

“Two days,” he whispered to the empty room.

*****

Today was not a good day, not that any day was particularly good here, but this one was definitely one of the worst ones so far. He had woken up with a dead arm and had tried to move it back into life, when he realised that two of the fingers of his left hand had frozen stiff overnight. He kicked the empty bowl across the floor. It bounced against the opposite corner, spinning for a few moments until it slowly settled on the floor. To his frustration, there was barely any sound, no satisfying clatter – just a dull thud, muffled by the hissing of the constant wind. There was something different today, though: the air was even colder than usual. He looked up towards the dark ceiling and squinted. There was no use, however; he knew it. The ceiling looked just as foggy as the rest of this box. He took in a deep breath and closed his eyes, running a hand through his greasy black hair.

Now, where was I? he thought. Oh yes … half an adder’s tongue, one portion of Galanthus Nivalis, two inches of Boomslang skin (fresh), four drops of unicorn blood, stir clockwise with a wooden spoon on high heat until the contents dissipate into a dark blue liquid, add three live beetles and an ounce of powdered sage, stir ag—

He stopped and his eyes flew open as he felt a presence in the room. He knew that wasn’t possible though, and yet …

“Who’s there?” he said out loud, not recognising his own voice. His throat hurt from being used suddenly after so long. No one answered.

Maybe I am starting to lose it? he thought, as his eyes darted around the empty grey box.

*

Finally. Tasty food. The One’s favourite food. Desire. Must be prudent. The One cannot be found … Just a taste maybe? The Others will not know.

END OF CHAPTER 1 :)

If you liked it - Read Part 1 of Allegiance in full on AO3 ;) Part 2 is ready and I'll start posting in a few days! Hope you enjoy! https://archiveofourown.org/works/33585556/chapters/83455573

[calligraphist-artemisia]

16 | Will-o’-the-Wisp

Written for Kidgetober 2020. Week 2 Theme: Myths & Magic. Day 16: Will-o’-the-Wisp.

Summary: Set in the Harry Potter universe.  Pidge finds herself lost in the woods on a dark, moonless night. She'd given up hope on getting home before sunrise when suddenly a light appeared between the trees to lure her deeper into the forest. Luckily, a handsome stranger is around to save her.

Also posted on AO3 under the username Kishirokitsune. Titled as “Magic of the Season”.

- - - - -

16 | Will-o'-the-Wisp

Pidge trudged through the undergrowth, cursing herself for deciding to take a stroll through the woods on a dark, moonless night. Why did she think it was such a good idea? She hated the woods! And nature in general.

Yes, she was definitely the indoors-y type, best suited to viewing the world from a screen and the comfort of her home.

She shivered and hugged herself, rubbing her arms with the hope of creating enough friction to generate warmth. She glanced up to try and see the stars but the canopy of trees completely blocked her view and the only thing that greeted her was more darkness. Her breath came in tiny pants as she looked around, barely able to make out the thick trunks, and it sank in just how well and truly lost she was.

Someone once told her: “the best thing to do when you're lost is to stay where you are”. But did that really apply when no one knew she was out there?

Pidge stopped and took a deep breath to try and calm down. What she needed to do was take a moment to think logically about the situation, highlighting all of the details she knew, and then come up with a workable plan from there.

So.

She was lost in the woods and it was too dark to see anything past a few inches from her face.

Her cell phone was very dead, though she did have a charging cable if she could find a place to use it.

She had no real way of navigating her way back to civilization.

Pidge reached out until she felt the bark of the nearest tree and used it as a way to ground herself. She briefly considered climbing up as high as she could go and hope it would be enough to get a look at the stars, which she could then use to get her bearings, but dismissed the idea as being potentially too dangerous.

There was nothing she could do but wait out the night and find her way once the sun rose once again.

She leaned against the tree and tilted her head back, wishing she could see something. Even the smallest pinprick of light would give her hope.

Pidge wasn't sure how long she stood there, her mind whirling through all of the different possibilities of how and when she would make it back to civilization and even entertaining the idea of someone heroically swooping in with a flashlight to save her. It was fun to imagine, though she knew it wasn't something that was going to happen.

She lowered her eyes and that was when she saw it: something glowing in the distance, lighting up the trunks of trees around it. Pidge held her breath in surprise. Surely she was hallucinating, right?

“Hello?” she called out.

She didn't get a response, but the light bobbed around a bit, as though whoever was holding it was trying to draw her in closer.

Or lead her out of the forest.

Pidge pushed away from the tree and began walking towards the light, praying that she wouldn't snag her foot on the undergrowth. To her confusion, the closer she got, the farther away the light seemed to move, occasionally stopping to sway and let her get a little more caught up before moving away again.

“Who's there? Can you slow down a bit?” Pidge called out, frustration bleeding into her voice.

And just like that, the light stopped. It hovered there in place, growing larger and larger as she approached. It pulsed in a mesmerizing pattern as it appeared the drift in the air, but Pidge didn't take any notice of how odd the whole thing was as she continued to follow it even as she sank to her ankles in cold, muddy water.

She shivered but kept going, the light too entrancing to stop. It would lead her to safety. She knew it.

The water lapped at her calves as the mud clung tightly to her feet, making any movement difficult, but she had to keep going. She was going to get out of the woods and make it back to her safe and warm home before the sunrise and a little bit of water and mud wasn't going to stop her.

Nothing could stop her.

A jet of crackling red energy shot past her shoulder and collided with the bobbing light, which emitted an inhuman screech as it skipped backwards over the water. Pidge watched, dazed, as two additional red jets shot out from behind her, colliding twice more with the light until the screeching stopped.

And then, suddenly, the water moved away from her legs and Pidge swayed, thankfully prevented from falling over into the deep mud by a pair of hands on her shoulders.

There was someone there speaking to her, but their words were so muffled that she couldn't make out what they were saying. Nothing made much sense. Her thoughts were so discombobulated that she couldn't keep anything straight and when the heavy fog clouding her mind finally lifted enough for her to think straight, she was sitting on a soft couch in an unfamiliar room with a warm blanket wrapped around her and a man with dark hair kneeling in front of her, holding up a mug for her to take.

“Drink this. It should help clear the rest of your shock,” he told her gently.

Pidge's hands were shaking so badly that she wasn't sure if she'd be able to hold onto the mug without spilling the drink everywhere, but she gave it a try anyway, choosing to rest it on the top of her legs until she was sure she could lift it high enough to drink.

“W-what happened?” she asked.

There was a moment of silence that stretched on for long enough that she wondered if she needed to repeat herself.

“The forest around here is dangerous at night, but especially during the new moon. Usually it isn't a problem since most people stay away once night starts to fall. They find it unsettling,” he said. “That light you encountered was something most folks would call a 'will-o'-the-wisp'.”

Pidge's brow furrowed in confusion. “But that's... that's not real. That's just a fairytale.”

“They're real and very dangerous. Their only goal is to lead people astray, typically into bogs or marshes, and... Well, those people don't come back.”

Pidge shivered at the implication.

“You were trapped pretty deeply into its thrall when I showed up, but you'll be okay now,” he continued. “Drink that. I need to finish preparing the spare room for you.”

“Spare room?” Pidge questioned.

He shrugged a little and then stood up. “I thought you'd prefer the privacy while you sleep.”

A flash of alarm shot through Pidge and she fought not to spill her drink. “I'm staying here? But why? I mean, don't you have a car or something? You could take me back into town!”

“Any other night, maybe, but... not tonight. And not when the most important thing is you getting rest. An encounter with a will-o'-the-wisp is draining even for people who know what they're doing and I want to make sure you're really alright before I send you away,” he explained.

Pidge watched him walk away without another word and she sat there by herself for several long minutes before remembering she had a drink in her hands. She took a sip and was pleased by the rich taste of hot chocolate, which warmed her down to her core and helped chase away the last traces of fogginess in her head.

And that was when she noticed how exhausted she felt.

Maybe there was something to what the strange man said.

The strange man whose house she was expected to sleep in.

Pidge sat up a little straighter and took a suspicious look around. Wherever she was, it had the appearance of a cozy little cabin with hardwood floors and a real stone fireplace tucked away in the corner. If she craned her head a little she could see directly into the kitchen behind her. There were six other doors that she could see, three of which was closed. The other appeared to be a bathroom and the third was the room the stranger had gone into, so Pidge assumed that was the spare room he mentioned. The final two closed doors led out the front and the back.

It would be easy to get up and leave. There was nothing stopping her.

But... there was also no reason she shouldn't stay. It was still dark out and she had no idea which direction to go in order to get back to an area she recognized. Plus, the stranger (who still hadn't given her his name) didn't seem like a bad guy. Maybe he was a bit weird, going on about a creature that didn't exist as though it were a real thing that people worried about, but that seemed like more of a quirky character trait rather than something to be concerned about.

Okay, maybe she'd be locking the bedroom door before she went to sleep. And moving something in front of it so he couldn't get in until she was ready to get up. And double-checking the windows. Maybe there was a closet she could sleep in?

There was nothing wrong with erring on the side of caution.

Pidge drank more of the hot chocolate while she waited for the stranger to come back and when he did, she blurted out the biggest question on her mind: “Who are you?”

He paused, a look of surprise crossing his face. “Oh, uh, I'm Keith.”

“Pidge,” she responded, unwilling to give him her real name.

“Okay, well the room is ready for you. I found a shirt and some pants that should fit you, if you want to be more comfortable and you can use that bathroom over there to wash up,” Keith said, pointing to the bathroom Pidge noticed earlier. “If you need anything else, my room is right there. Just knock and I'll come out to help. And, uh, you can see the kitchen, so if you need anything from there just help yourself.”

Belatedly, she realized he was trying to give her a tour of the house.

Keith paused for a moment to give her time to speak, but when Pidge said nothing he shifted his feet and spoke again. “You can leave your cup in the sink and I'll take care of it in the morning. And that's pretty much it. Just... I don't recommend going back outside until the sun rises.”

“Because of your make-believe creatures?” Pidge couldn't help but ask.

“Because it's dangerous to be in unfamiliar woods in the dark,” he responded, a hint of challenge in his voice. “Look, I know you have no reason to trust me, but please listen to me on this and don't go outside. Even if you don't believe me about the will-o'-the-wisps there are other dangers, like wolves, that live out there.”

That was a good point.

Pidge quietly agreed to stay inside and watched as he relaxed, his relief completely obvious even to her. He offered a tiny smile and then said something about going to bed, leaving her completely alone on the couch.

She finished up her hot chocolate and put it in the sink like he said, though she did take the time to empty it and rinse it out first. Pidge debated for a moment whether or not she wanted to change her clothes before deciding she'd rather have something clean to wear, although...

Pidge glanced down at her jeans, which were surprisingly clean despite her vague memory of walking through mud.

Either way, jeans weren't comfortable to sleep in and she didn't see any harm in borrowing a shirt and pants, so she changed into those before going to check out the bathroom. The light clicked on by itself when she stepped inside and Pidge's gaze was automatically drawn to the round mirror over the sink.

She frowned and combed her fingers through her hair to try and tame the mess it had become, but there wasn't much she could do.

Apparently her reflection felt the same, because it shrugged at her once she was done and said: “Best rinse it out and try again, dear.”

Pidge blinked.

Then she opened her mouth and screamed as she backed away so quickly that her feet got tangled with each other and she toppled backwards. She felt pain and then blackness took over her vision.

The next time she opened her eyes, she was tucked beneath warm blankets and sunlight was streaming in through the windows. It took her a moment to remember everything that happened the night before, but as her brain started to fully wake up she jumped out of bed and set off to find Keith.

She needed answers and he was going to give them to her.

[calitraditionalism]

Arc Three: Chapter Ten

(AO3 counterpart here.)

“That’s the idea?”

Mistface narrowed his eyes and looked back at Flyfang, who was giving the oak forest in the very far distance a doubtful look.

“It’s unoccupied at this time of year,” Greyleaf said, just a little ahead of her. “Or at least, the cats who could be there have a low chance of meeting us and knowing anything about the Clast.”

“It’ll be mighty wet,” Mistface added. “Smell of the mud and plants ought to cover us up, long as it stays that way.”

“Yeah, but sometimes the Marish hunt there.” Flyfang grimaced. “I’m not inclined to meet them again. Not just yet, anyway.”

Darkpelt picked up her pace to walk alongside Flyfang. “If we’re careful, we won’t. You’d be surprised what cats can miss when tree-bark is soaked.”

Flyfang surprisingly seemed more assured at this particular input. She tilted her head back and forth, considering, before saying, “I guess it’ll do for now.”

“We can’t be here long anyway,” Beetlefoot said, trotting alongside Greyleaf. “I don’t intend to be a contrarian, but the rain could take a while coming back, and by then…”

“Our smell will be everywhere,” Redheart finished. “Yes, I was considering that. But you two…” she turned her attention to Mistface and Greyleaf. “You grew up by this forest. If you’re confident this will work for a time, I trust you.”

“We are,” Mistface and Greyleaf said together.

“Then we ought to move a little quicker.” Redheart nodded to everyone behind her and sped up into a trot. The party immediately followed along after her without a word from anyone.

Mistface, at the front near Redheart, glanced back a few times to gauge how everyone was doing. The warmth of the sun had brought some small sense of comfort when they had started south, their fur drying well (if a tad stiff from bits of mud still clinging to their coats). It helped that there was some form of a plan, however small it was, for the next course of action. It gave everyone at least the façade of comfort. As they walked off their nervous energy, cats were in a line of pairs and talking quietly to each other, sometimes to someone ahead or behind them. Laurelclaw and Littlepaw were at the back, trying to stay cheery and share their experiences of where they had traveled in their lives (evidently, neither of them had been in a proper forest before). Darkpelt was talking so quietly to Flyfang that Mistface couldn’t pick up their conversation, but by her tone, it was oddly sympathetic, and Flyfang had a nostalgic look on her face. Beetlefoot and Greyleaf were behind Mistface, discussing the leaders and their next course of action.

Mistface was nearly alongside Redheart, but he had kept quiet almost their entire travel today. Not only because he didn’t feel like talking, but because he wasn’t sure how to actually hold a conversation with a cat like Redheart – a deputy, an outlaw, and a bearer of secrets he was barely keeping composed just hearing about, nevermind being forced to shoulder alone.

Or at least shouldering it alone until she met his brother.

It stung a little, he had to admit, that Greyleaf hadn’t entrusted him with the truth about StarClan. He could understand why, at least; Greyleaf was terrified of his knowledge and clearly felt like telling anyone would get him labeled as crazy, if not accused of heresy. Still, Mistface couldn’t help feeling some hurt. He and their mother would have listened to him, wouldn’t they? They’d believe him, right? Mistface believed him now, and supported him. Did that not count for anything?

“Mistface.”

As If he’d been caught saying something rude by his mother, he jolted and turned to the right. Redheart had slowed down to walk alongside him and was giving him a very…

Interesting. She looked like she was guilty of something. The usual exhaustion in her eyes was even deeper now, muddy with regret and shame. Mistface said nothing, waiting.

She leaned a little closer to him and spoke in a low voice. “I’m sorry about your brother.”

Mistface’s ears swiveled and he squinted a little at her. “Pardon?”

“I mean to say that I’m sorry he’s involved in this.” Redheart looked ahead again, head down like she was pulling something behind her. “I was so relieved that there was someone else out there who knew the truth. I couldn’t know what was going to happen then – I don’t think anyone would – but all the same, I put him in a difficult position. He couldn’t refuse to help. I couldn’t, if it was me.”

“Mm.” Mistface’s eyes flicked to his brother. “He’s awful helpful like that. Would be why he’s a healer.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Redheart said.

“I know what you mean.” Mistface heard a tinge of snappiness in his voice and immediately corrected it to something more polite – not necessarily friendly, but polite. “I won’t lie and say I got a good grasp on what you two dealt with for so long.” He narrowed his eyes. “I also won’t say that I know my brother well as I do, because clearly I don’t.”

Redheart sighed quietly. “No one does. But it’s my fault that he disappeared and left you and your mother behind. And it’s my fault that you were sent to spy on us – that you were alienated from your own kin.” She looked back at him, guilty again. “I don’t know how he feels about it now, but I know you can’t be happy, and so I want to apologize to you directly.”

Mistface didn’t say anything for a while. He turned the apology over slowly and carefully in his head, sure, but there was a bit of spite in him making her wait for his response. He knew that was petty. He couldn’t help it.

“Well,” he said at last, “I suppose I can’t blame you for bein’ desperate.”

Redheart’s face was hard to read. He didn’t know how she reacted in her head. She just faced forward and kept walking. The two of them were silent, listening to the conversations behind them.

The sun was sinking well into the southern horizon before the group had reached the edge of the oak forest. It had warmed up considerably, but the air coming from the shadows of the woods was almost chilly. Greyleaf and Mistface took the lead now, stepping into the much softer earth beneath the trees with everyone hesitantly following them.

As they had predicted, the ground inside was still wet. Better still, the plants clinging to the moist bark of the trees were giving off (admittedly rather unpleasant) scents that almost clogged the nose. The oaks’ boughs refused to let the sunlight through, forcing it to sneak through tiny openings in the leaves and dot the ground in the perfect way to mask the cats from any eyes that may have been looking into the woods. The trees were thick, too; within half a minute of walking, they couldn’t see the valley outside beyond tiny, determined streaks of light that were dimming with every step.

“And it’ll be foggy in the morning, too,” Greyleaf told everyone. It was nice to see him so enthused, especially given their current situation. “This is about as safe as it’s going to get before we come up with a course of action.”

“If you say so.” Darkpelt’s nose was wrinkled. “Boy and howdy, if it isn’t impossible to get your bearings with just your nose.”

“It’s hard with eyes too.” Laurelclaw was watching Darkpelt grimacing with every sniff and poorly hiding his amusement. “It’s pretty dark, and everything’s the same color.”

“Perfect place to hide some fugitives, then,” Mistface said. “Now, if we can find any dry places to sleep…”

It took some more wandering around, but Beetlefoot did eventually call that he had found a cluster of oaks where someone had tried to make some dens before evidently giving up and leaving. They were nestled under the thickest roots, and they were shallow, but at least dry. With that, Laurelclaw stood on watch while Flyfang, Mistface and Redheart went to hunt. Flyfang took the opportunity to bring Littlepaw along to teach her a few tricks. Mistface half-smiled overhearing Littlepaw practicing her pounces and being cheered on by Flyfang.

Dinner was at least less tense than this morning – prey was small, but no one complained, and Littlepaw’s pride at having caught a squirrel by herself seemed to warm the air in the circle they had formed. There was very little conversation after the meal. Perhaps there didn’t need to be. Everyone was thinking or trying to scrape mud off of their paws and onto tree roots. It didn’t feel awkward, which was nice.

Eventually, it got too dark for any running around or exploring, so the cats picked out their dens and said their goodnights. Mistface shared one with Greyleaf and the others paired up close by. It was quite soothing, having his brother with him again. Mistface could forget the sting of betrayal (what a dramatic way to put it, honestly) and just be grateful that they weren’t isolated from each other.

The others must have felt some sense of security too, because the woods went quiet in moments. Soft, deep breaths were the only sounds in the stillness of the nights. It was peaceful.

For almost everyone.

 ---

 A sort of horrified curiosity had been buzzing around Littlepaw’s head. All afternoon, she’d wondered what, exactly, Redheart and Greyleaf had seen all this time. They had avoided saying exactly what StarClan – or this thing pretending to be it – looked like. Perhaps it was too horrible to describe, but that just made her all the more curious.

Besides, she thought, shifting a little to be more comfortable – besides, this raised so many questions about her dreams. How could she have never suspected anything? How did Meliclight appear so often and stay the same no matter what? How was this the same for every other seer? Was StarClan really that good at pretending?

All of these questions and more whined like a mosquito in her ears, until she couldn’t keep her eyes open. She had the distinct sensation of something pulling at her head before she fell asleep.

When she opened her eyes, she gasped. The field of her seer dreams was grassy, sunny, beautiful flowers with butterflies flitting around. Now, it looked… almost abstract. The grass was bowed and bent at an angle, like someone had broken all of their stalks. The earth under her paws felt more like a thick pad of lichen on a cracked rock – like she was barely standing on something at all. The air was almost too dense to breathe, and there was no sunlight or shadows to give her an idea of her surroundings. Everything felt so flat, so empty. She could hear nothing. Smell nothing. The only real sensation she had was a creeping dread along her spine.

Hesitantly, she called out, “Meliclight?”

Something vaguely shimmered in front of her. She couldn’t tell what it was before the image splintered and faded away.

“M-“ She had to breathe shallowly to speak. “Meliclight, it’s Littlepaw. Are you here? Are- are you safe?”

Nothing. Littlepaw’s tail started to shake unconsciously.

“Please tell me you’re real,” she said, more to herself than Meliclight.

“-paw.”

Littlepaw blinked.

All around her was a voice, stuttering and faint. “-Ii-i-i-ttlepaaaaw. Li. Sssssssssf here.”

The dread sparked into fear. Littlepaw stepped backwards a few paces, looking around, trying to find some glimpse of Meliclight. Why was the sky grey now?

“StarClan?” she whispered.

“IIIHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.” The feeling of land faded from under Littlepaw’s feet. “Trust- truuu-uuuuUAAAA-“

The words split off into a deafening wail. As if that was a signal, the field shattered like ice. Littlepaw cried out as everything drifted apart. Suddenly she was just floating, choking on the air, looking around wildly for someone, anyone, that could help her.

A deep, rattling, ancient breath.

Littlepaw turned her head forward again.

Aspects above.

She understood now.

 ---

 Mistface was jarred awake by a shriek. He caught Greyleaf scrambling to his feet and climbing out of the den. He followed his brother, fur bristling as the shriek cracked even higher and louder.

Everyone was outside now, with Laurelclaw halfway inside one of the dens. He pulled himself out backwards, hauling a thrashing Littlepaw by the scruff.

“Littlepaw!” Flyfang was trying to shake the apprentice’s shoulder with a paw. “Hey! What’s wrong?”

“What’s happening?” Beetlefoot was standing stiff and bristling harder than Mistface.

Littlepaw shrieked again, claws unsheathed and paws flailing like she was fighting something off. Flyfang ducked around her and bit down hard on her tail.

That did the trick; Littlepaw’s eyes shot wide open and she raised her head, hyperventilating. She stared at the rest of the cats like she wasn’t sure they were real. Flyfang immediately went to her head and started grooming her like one would a fussy kitten.

Laurelclaw lowered his head to about as close to Littlepaw’s eye-level as he could without crouching. “Are you okay? Were you having a nightmare?”

Littlepaw swallowed air like she hadn’t breathed in hours. “I saw it.” Her wide eyes went to Redheart and Greyleaf. “They’re telling the truth.”

Flyfang stopped grooming. Slowly, everyone’s heads turned to the deputy and healer. Greyleaf shut his eyes, brow creased a little as if in pain. Redheart almost looked heartbroken.

“I’m so sorry,” she said softly. “I wish you didn’t have to see it.”

Darkpelt took a step forward. “StarClan? The thing?”

“Mhm,” Littlepaw said, and from the sound of her voice it was almost too much to respond. She was shaking violently and now staring at nothing. Laurelclaw leaned over her a little, protecting her from her visions, and Flyfang resumed grooming. They both looked like they could use some soothing themselves.

Everyone looked at each other. It was silent. Appropriately. There was nothing that could be said now to comfort any of them.

[cherryplasmids]

☆ all that could have been ☆

pairing: john seed x deputy!reader fandom: far cry 5—non-game sequence prompt: it’s about time john knows how you truly feel, but it couldn’t have come at a worse time.  notes: first time doing far cry so please be nice lol — i was encouraged by @hopecountyhellcat​ and @punisherpage​ —check out my other works; masterlist

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

    Everything went wrong in a matter of seconds. In one moment, you’re flying high in the air with the intent of going to the Rye’s house for a drink of beer and some laughs. After a successful day of bothering the Seeds with no violent moments, you wanted to end the day right with your favorite people. You messed with the radio for a bit before turning it off in favor of humming your favorite song. The next moment, the engine explodes and you have no choice but to jump out of the plane. The parachute doesn’t do much to give you a safe landing. Instead, it gets caught in the sturdy branches of the tall Montana trees. It rips easily. 

And you’re going down fast, bruising every body part as you hit multiple branches on the way. 

There’s no time to think before your back slams against the forest dirt, head bouncing off the ground and connecting with loose rocks. A mixture of an agonized groan and a winded gasp emits from your lips. Tears gather up in your eyes immediately as obnoxious ringing vibrates through your head. Other than that, you can’t hear anything. Not even the loud explosion from the destroyed plane rattles you. You wouldn’t even notice it happened if it wasn’t for the flash of bursting colors and heat warming your skin. 

You want to scream for help. To let out something besides the pathetic and agonized croak gurgling out of you. Your bruised throat disables that from happening.

 Hopefully, the engulfing fire catches someone's attention. 

An eternity later, you decide to move, no matter how excruciating. Every movement sends a stinging sensation through your arms as if a thousand wasps stung you all at once. Lifting yourself up into a sitting position, your eyes zero in on the rest of your body. It hasn’t faired any better. A rusted jagged piece of shrapnel sticks out of your thigh, with blood steadily pouring out the wound. With just the tip pointing out, a passing thought breezes by—10th-grade anatomy class mentioned important veins in the thigh. You never memorized the placements, but you might have an inkling now. 

The watch on your right-hand beeps. The screen is scratched up but not cracked enough to hinder any information from being displayed. Messages upon messages come through, all from the Rye’s and Sharky. As you read through them, your mind gets all foggy, jumbling the words together. Removing your eyes from the bright screen, you begin to move with no direction. There’s no way you would die alone in the middle of this godforsaken county. 

It takes a long time until you reach a clearing. Of course, it happens to be John Seed’s massive ranch. With nowhere else to go, you continue crawling to his front porch. When you reach it, you sit propped up against the wooden banisters. Despite the pain, your body begins to relax. You’re safe here. Always safe on John’s ranch. With the crash being in his territory, there’s no doubt he would go investigate. He’ll know it’s your plane once he sees the cropped baby blue sweater he bought you three days ago in the back seat and the expensive black jeans he left there after a quick rendevous a week ago. If he digs any further, he might even find the polaroid nude you tucked away in the back pocket. Only if the fire didn’t burn them.

Noticing the blood trail, you realized there isn’t enough time left before the inevitable demise. The thigh injury is pumping blood faster than a cheetah running to catch prey. By the time John comes, you’ll be done. 

Jacob will celebrate the news. 

You take a deep breath as you hear John’s orotund voice, mixing in with the low ringing still prominent in your ear. The pulsing sensation is thumping in your head is triggered, flaring behind your skull. He’s most likely a figment of your imagination, conjured up to keep you company until you die. A lazy hand travels slowly to touch your head. The matted hair is covered in blood and you let out a choked laugh. 

“Rook?”

It takes a couple of seconds to register John’s walking toward you, eyebrows furrowed. He lifts his sunglasses and perches it on top of his head like normal. The closer he gets, the more his body mingles with the blurriness of the trees, swaying to the sporadic wind breeze. You wave at him, blood dripping from your hand. 

He’s actually here.

“Hi, John.” Your raucous voice echoes in your head but you could tell it doesn’t affect him. In reality, it’s a whisper he isn’t close enough to hear. He runs to you once he notices the blood, his shiny Gucci belt beaming in the sunshine. A tired smile reaches your lips and you sigh, attempting to ignore the throbbing headache, the difficulty in swallowing, and the continuous blood loss. John’s here now. He’ll save you from this fuck up. 

He’s yelling something but your hearing goes in and out. The words don’t make any sense when you attempt to piece them together. It only hurts to try. Once he reaches you, he tucks you into his muscular arms with his lips forming words. His lips are moving too quickly to be understandable so you opt to read his expressive eyes. Tears prick the baby blues for a few seconds before spilling over like a waterfall. 

“Ro—Rook—Rook!” His voice like a high-piched foghorn, John successfully pulls you out of your daydream. 

A smile still plays at your lips. “I had a little accident, John.”

He’s shaking his head. “A random fucking Angel shot down your plane.” He sniffles and cradles the back of your head. His body shudders when he sees blood oozing out onto his hands. Never once did he ever cringe from the substance in his adult life and yet, here is practically breaking at the sight of it. He doesn’t care if other people suffer—actually revels in the sight of it. But now, with you in his arms sporting the same pained expression as the rest, he’s afraid. A childhood flashback of Jacob bleeding from parental abuse takes over for a moment. The fear is vivid. 

“I’ve called an ambulance.”

A thought conjures up in your head. He’s utterly stunning. Somehow John remains mesmerizing in every way. The splotchy redness on his cheeks, the peeking snot, and his frightened eyes do nothing to deter that fact. 

“Joseph isn’t too happy, I bet.” You let out a weak chuckle before peering up at him. “You came for me.” 

“I’ll always come for you.” 

“What a tiring job.” Your words begin to slur, saliva gathering in your mouth. However, the way John’s eyes comically widen, you know it isn’t saliva. 

“You’re going to be okay. The ambulance is coming and you’ll be fine—back to annoying us, okay?” 

You cough up, blood splattering John’s left cheek in small droplets. “Maybe not.”

“No!” He yells and you flinch. He visibly softens, a fresh batch of tears seeping out of his eyes. The redness of his eyes interferes with his beautiful baby blues. You want him to stop crying, so you grasp onto his hand and give him a strained, reassuring smile. 

“Sorry,”

He shakes his head and caresses his thumb across your split bottom lip. With such tender care mixed in with whispered lovely words, your body eases into relaxation. Every word or sound coming out of his mouth is like butter, all warm and comforting. Even in this time, the raging pain subsides for a moment to allow some clarity—to listen to John’s rich, calming voice. 

Everything about him is magical. 

“Do you think we could ever be together?” The pain from your bruised throat causes the words to take ages for it to come together. Soon, coherent sentences won’t be possible. 

“Of course, we are meant to be together. Joseph said so himself. God wills it, Rook.” 

You ignore his words and continue with your frayed thoughts. “Not in this lifetime. In another where your brother isn’t a psycho—” You take a deep breath, cutting the sentence short. The anger bubbling within your stomach at the thought of Joseph uses more energy than you would like. You’d be damned if your last words were about him. 

“I love you, John Seed. It took me some time but yeah. I love you.” Your words are choppy, consciousness falling in and out as you strung your last sentences together. 

He begins to sob.

“Would’ve married you too. Spend every day loving you. You deserve it, Johnny.” 

After feeling numb for so long, John can’t lose you. You’re the only thing that encourages real, raw emotion from him. To come to terms with his traumas and twist it into a positive outlook. “You've been through shit, Johnny.” You told him months ago, the first time you stumbled upon his ranch. Why let that shit get you down? Stop you from living life? I’ll teach ya, free of charge. With a wink and a pat on the ass, John knew he was hooked. And you’ve done exactly that. Taught him that there’s more to life than suffering. A life where he doesn’t have to inflict pain to feel something. A life where he can live happily without the idea of sins carving him up at any given moment. You’ve been ingrained within every aspect of his life to the point where he doesn’t remember ever being without you. 

What will he do when you’re gone?

Another heart-wrenching sob emits from him. His alarmingly begins trembling even more. Through all the anguished cries, he says your real name, chanting it as if it’s the only prayer he knows. He’s talking again and moving frantically. But nothing computes in your brain. He does all sorts of things in seconds: wiping his snot on his blue Prada shirt, tapping your cheeks when your eyes close for a nanosecond too long, waving at something beyond your restricted vision. All the quick movements send your mind spinning like a gravitron. It takes you back to the first time you ever went on one. You were 10 and they had to stop midway because you threw up in it. 

Your eyes begin to feel heavy “Let’s take a nap, Johnny.”

“No,” his voice sounds like he’s speaking underwater. “You have to stay up, Rook or else—” He breaks off, choking on his own words before pulling you further into his arms to cry into your chest. “Please, just listen to me for once.”

You try to nod but your head is filled with heavy lead, weighing it to the point where it hurts to even twitch. All the words you want to say die in your throat, replaced by blood. It creeps in your throat before spilling out of your lips in a thin trail. 

Slowly but surely, you begin to fade, sinking into a deep abyss of empty blackness. Your last thought is about John’s baby blues and all that could’ve been. 

────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──────

word count: 1,848 published: april 18, 2020 [my birthday!] edited: n/a

[desiraypark]

Earth Angel

Continuation of SATURDAY NIGHT SPECIAL Characters: Flip Zimmerman x Mae (OC - Blk/F) Content: Fluffy/romantic; then a nasty lil’ quickie (PIV sex; FeedFlipSomeTiddies1975) Inspiration: Me telling some friends that this photoshoot (particularly the shirtless with hand in pocket photo) gave me “fuck you in the back of a Volkswagen on the way to Woodstock” energy lol

January 2, 1975 Dear Mae, I hope you had a good New Year’s Eve. And day. Also hope these letters haven’t been too much. I just think about you a lot I just enjoy talking to you. But anyway, I was thinking about my New Year’s resolutions. I’ve never really been big on them but thought 1975 would be the year I give one or two a try. Before I knew it, I got the crazy idea to go on a road trip. From Colorado Springs to Miami, perhaps? Shouldn’t take more than a few days--depending on how often we stop. Before I start stalling and using up this entire sheet to talk about bullshit, I’m going to come right on out and ask if you’d like to join me. I know it sounds crazy. But it would be nice to have some companionship and I can’t think of anyone else I’d like to see the country with. Let me know. Call me a fucking fool if needed.  Best Regards, Flip _____________________ January 16, 1975

Flip Honey, 

I’m definitely going to call you a fucking fool. You ARE a fucking fool. But God looks out for babies and fools, or however that phrase goes. I thought long and hard when I got your letter and you’ve got your answer: yes. I’d love to go on a road trip with you. Because I’m a fool, too. Spend a little change and call me when you get this, honey. You know the number. Better Regards, Mae

FEBRUARY 1975 Flip flew Mae out to Colorado Springs--her first plane ride. He’d temporarily exchanged his truck for a friend’s Volkswagen Transporter and filled it with supplies, dry foods, and toiletries. 

He was like an excited kid at the airport, waiting for Mae to walk through--and boy, did she! She wore a heavy red coat with some kind of fur at the collar and had her hair pinned up like a Park Avenue socialite. She had on a navy skirt or a dress, and some black high-heeled boots. “Look at you!” she said, meeting him halfway.  “Look at you,” he responded, wrapping his arms around her. “Looking great, as always.” It was about 4:30 when she and Flip arrived to his house. They’d picked up a pizza, sat in front of the television with it, and talked until they fell asleep. Eventually, they moved to the bedroom.  “No funny business, now,” Mae had said. Flip laughed. “You’d be too tired to keep up.” But they didn’t try a thing. Even with Mae’s perfect ass against him, and Flip’s strong arm holding her close, they didn’t try a thing. They slept through the night and hit the road for St. Louis (and whatever was in between) at 6:00AM on the dot. They got to St. Louis at about seven in the evening and stopped at a diner. 

“Thank you for saying yes to this, Mae,” Flip said before biting into a crispy chicken sandwich. She nodded.  “Thank you for askin’, Flip.” The lamp above them was dusty, but it made Mae look like an angel. Flip looked over her face. Every inch of it. And Mae felt him staring. The blood rushed to her cheeks and she looked down at her seasoned fries. “Why are you acting shy?” he asked. Mae shrugged. “Because you’re lookin’ at me all...I don’t know...”  Flip’s chest bounced, but no sound came out. Only a grin formed on his face--he was slightly amused by the sight. A woman who’d bounced up and down on him every night in Miami, suddenly blushing and averting her eyes over dinner. But he knew what had her blushing. They both knew that the air was different between them. And it wasn’t just because of the St. Louis cookin’. 

They finished off their food, got some gas, and found a motel to stay in. Even though they both know good and well they wanted to fuck each other’s brains out, the ride had worn them down a little. Especially Flip. Once again, they climbed in bed (well, on top of the bed, because Mae didn’t trust the sheets), and drifted off. ____________________ The Next Morning Flip and Mae hit the road just before sunrise. The road was empty and as much as Mae wanted to see the beautiful morning sky, she fell back asleep. Eventually, Flip turned the car radio on and hummed the songs to himself. Soon, the disk jockey decided to take him back about twenty years--when he was a tall, lanky kid who had nothing to get into but trouble. “Eaaarth angel, earth angel...will you be miiiine...my darling dear, love you all the ti-ime...” Flip perked up, turned the volume up and sang quietly to himself. He even tapped his thumbs against the steering wheel. “I'm just a fool, a fool in love with you...” he sang along. He glanced in Mae’s direction. She was slumped in the seat, the top of her head facing him. One of the buttons of her flannel shirt had popped open because her tits were so damned big. He looked back at the road and shook his head at his own self. He knew what was happening. Passion rushed his veins. His brain was foggy with adulation. Then, he looked gave her one more glance. She looked so good. Flip scanned every road sign he drove by for the next few miles--hoping for an indication of a truck stop or something. And there it was--a park en route! He followed the signs to the public park and drove through in search of a place to park. It took little time for him to find the park’s most discreet area--a wide open circle of dirt adjacent to a seemingly endless forest. 

It was early in the morning. No one else was there. Just the birds and insects that flitted and flew from tree to tree. Flip parked the van and tapped Mae’s thigh. Her eyes popped open quickly. “Mae?” “Yeah?” she asked yawning. “What’s wrong?!” “If I don’t get your tits in my mouth right now, I’m gonna lose my fuckin’ mind.” _____________________ Mae was nothing but nerves as her and Flip climbed into one of the back seats. Mae started undoing her pants, but Flip grabbed her shirt and ripped it open, sending the buttons flying. “Flip!” she cried. He grunted and pushed the cups of her bra up--causing her breasts to spill out. Then, he wrapped his lips around her left nipple, massaging the entire breast in the process. Mae ran her fingers through his hair, and watched him feast like a starving man. He held onto her breast as though it were going to run away from him, and moved his mouth to the other one--also giving the nipple a hard suck.  “Shit, Flip,” Mae whispered. “I missed you so much...” “Me, too Babygirl. Me, too...” he mumbled. 

He devoured her breasts for a few minutes before removing his belt and undoing his jeans. Mae lifted her leg--pulling it closer to her, and unzipped her boot. Flip grabbed the heel and pulled it off. They repeated the process on her other boot--which was hanging over the back of the seat. As Mae worked at her own jeans--pushing the denim and her panties down to the floor simultaneously--Flip pulled out his wallet, yanked out a condom and slid it on. He sucked his index and middle finger and shoved it into Mae’s pussy. She let out quiet moans as he worked her open, preparing her for him.  “I want you to get on top. You think you can handle that?” he asked.  “You know I can.” Flip bit his bottom lip and pulled his fingers out. Jeans stuck around his knees, he sat up and pressed his ass down on the leather seats. Mae sat up, straddled him, and gave him a hot, wet kiss. Flip held her hips and slowly--carefully--eased her down onto his rock-hard length. “Fuck...” they both groaned. Mae worked over him a little--trying to find comfort as he split her open like a log for firewood. Then, she began to bounce. He grabbed her hips and stared at her face. He couldn’t stare into her eyes--she had then squeezed shut, and was biting her lip.  “There you go, beautiful,” he mumbled. He gave her ass a slap.  “Mmph!” she hummed. She rested against his chest and wrapped her arms around his neck--groaning and clenching her teeth every time his tip hit the right spot. “Are you holding your moans in?” he asked. She was. But she wasn’t conscious of it until he asked. Suddenly, she realized the van was also bouncing and squeaking. Her eyes popped open and she scanned their surroundings. “There’s nobody out here,” Flip said, moving his hands directly onto her ass. He guided her up and down, and up and down--harder and faster. “Shit!” she shouted. “That’s right. Make all the noise you need to. Don’t hold that shit in. Didn’t I tell you in Florida?” he asked, his gruff voice booming so close to her ear that it made her temporal lobes feel like they were vibrating. “I’m gonna make you scream my name every time.” He smacked her ass hard. “Every...time.” “Oh, God...” Mae moaned. She fell against his chest again and closed her eyes--temporarily removing her own sense of sight so that touch was enhanced. She felt Flip’s chest moving up and down under hers; the calloused flesh of his large palms holding and kneading her ass cheeks; his dick dragging along her walls. Then, a hand moved away from her ass. He shoved it into the tight space between them and found her clit.  “Fuck!” Mae shouted. She sat up and stared into his dilated pupils. Her breasts smacked his chin until he stuck his tongue out and was able to capture one her nipples again.  Mae’s bouncing slowed down. She leaned across him once more, lifted her lower body just before the head of his dick came out of her, and expertly slid back down. Flip let go of her breast to let out an expletive.  “Do that shit again,” he said, throwing his head back and staring up at her. She did as requested--lifting off of him almost completely, then sliding back down. She did it one more time, and before she could lift a fourth time, Flip wrapped his arms around her waist, kept her down, and began to thrust up into her. “Aaah!” she cried. He dug deep inside of her, making her feel every pulse and every drag against her velvety walls--reminding her of what she hadn’t been getting for months. His pace was moderate, but each thrust was deep. He abruptly paused his stroke, grabbed her hair, and tilted his chin up. “You feel that dick deep inside of you, baby?” he whispered freakishly low. He pressed into her deeper. Deeper than she realized was possible. “Yes...” she squealed. Her nails dug into the nape of his neck. “Does it feel good?”  “Yes, Flip, yes...” she mumbled, shaking her head in disbelief. Flip gripped her scalp and banged into her one hard time. “Can’t hear you...” he said, his voice going above a whisper. “YES! FUCK!” she began to grind into him. “I wanna come, Flip. Please, make me come. Please!” Mae pleaded. Flip picked up his pace again, and Mae met his thrusts.  “Lean back and let me see you rub that pretty clit,” he said. “I’ve got you.” Mae leaned back and Flip held her with a palm against her lower back--making sure she didn’t fall backward. As she bounced her squelching pussy on his length, she rubbed her clit with the pads of her fingers. In no time, the heat began to build up in her belly. She tightened around him, and worked herself toward her release, screaming to the van’s ceiling. As she came, he drilled into her hard. “Fliiiiip! Yesssssssss!” she squealed, breasts bouncing all over the place. “Fffuuuuck!”

Flip began pumping shallow thrusts up into her--surrendering to the rush that soon fell over him. Mae looked down with a sweet (and pleased) smile as she rode out her wave--enjoying the spurt of warmth that filled her up. She could tell that it was a lot, too. Only a thin layer of protection keeping their sweet saps from merging and creating something more. 

Flip pulled her back to him and devoured her mouth. Then, they took a few minutes to catch their breath. Soon, they put their clothes back on. Mae had to dig in her suitcase for another shirt. Despite the place still being empty, Flip discreetly tossed his condom in a large garbage bin nearby. He climbed into the van and looked over at Mae. She returned the glance and burst into laughter, and he did the same. 

“Need me to drive, big boy?” she asked smirking.  “No. You just sit back and look pretty for me,” Flip said. He slapped her thigh and started the Volkswagen back up. 

They left the park warm and satisfied, and made their way down to Tennessee. 

____________________ TAG LIST @aloneandsleepless @tsarinastorm If you’d like to be on any of my tag lists, please leave a comment on my Tag List Request post!

[nessabear05]

You’re An Asshole, You Know That Right? - An OC x Frank OneShot

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You're An Asshole, Anyone Ever Tell You That?

Mal x Frank

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This is a commission I did for this gorgeous person named Mal! I hope you enjoy it girly!

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Word Count

2,475

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Was there a time in your life where you ever felt..alone? A time where you felt unwanted and like you were a burden to everyone that was in your presence? A time where all you wanted was a friend to talk to about your problems? Only to be ignored and pushed away by the people that are supposed to hold you close and keep you safe? Well, that was a constant in the life of Malaikat Jahat. Pushed away and left out of everything by her mother and her three older siblings, she always felt...alone. Some found it selfish of her to be so gloomy when she had such a ‘great life’ in the eyes of others. Her family was well off on money, she was a gorgeous girl, and a smart one at that. She was everything anyone ever wanted to be, or so they thought. If they knew her home life, they would change that idea around quickly...after all, money can’t buy you happiness.

Mal always wondered why she was doomed to the life she had...but it always brought her back to one place, her mother’s morals. Her mother had gotten pregnant with her under...unfortunate circumstances, and due to her morals, her mom couldn’t bear the thought of aborting a fetus….so she instead raised the child with the bare minimum, food, and water, a place to sleep. Something parents are supposed to be obligated to do. But, she never hung out with or spent time with Mal as she did with the poor girl’s older siblings. but...Mal never spoke out about it. She was used to the neglectfulness of her mom, despite how unfair it was.

But that didn’t mean Mal didn’t try to make her mother happy. She got good grades and tried her best to make something of herself...to make her mother proud, but nothing ever seemed good enough to please her mom. For fifteen years she tried so hard...until she just snapped, and it started an argument with her mother. And at the ripe age of fifteen....was when her mother had told her for the first time, “Nothing you ever do will make me happy! Because you weren’t supposed to happen! A mistake, that’s EXACTLY what you are. So everything you do will always be a mistake!” and for years to come...that sentence would haunt her every night as she tried to sleep, silent tears dripping from her face at the pain her own mother’s words caused. And well...she stopped trying. What was the point in trying to please someone who made it clear they never wanted you in the first place?

At the age of eighteen...Mal just couldn’t take it anymore...and she packed up all her belongings, moving in with a couple of her friends. Throughout the years between fifteen and eighteen, Mal had grown into some bad habits. One of those being that she walked at night alone. Sure she could protect herself well, but still, it wasn’t safe to do that. And needless to say, old habits die hard. So when she moved in with her friends, she couldn’t stay in one place too long. And in the middle of the night, she packed up her stuff in a bag and left...no goodbye, no warning, no nothing.

She walked for hours in her thoughts, unaware of her surroundings as she walked, not noticing how foggy it seemed to be getting the more she walked. And when she did finally notice...it was too late. She was far into the dense woods...lost and no idea where she was. She didn’t know much, but one thing she did know, is she wanted to get out. And so she tried...over and over making twists and turns in the forest, scraping herself up as the creepers and vines on the ground tangled around her ankles and brought her crashing down onto the cold hard dirt of the woods. And eventually...she saw something up ahead. It was a little light….and she could hear voices as she got closer. These people could have been dangerous...but she didn’t care. And she used the last little bit of her energy to sprint towards the orange light and voices up ahead. But...she wasn’t where she thought she was.

━━━━━⊱✿⊰━━━━━━

That was how she ended up where she is now...the entity’s realm. The little group of people she had met, turned out to be much larger than she had thought. And there were...maybe around twenty people. But they all seemed nice...in their way. She had made very good friends with Nea, given their similar personalities. And despite their bi-polar personalities, she had made good friends with Quentin, the dream walker.

He had been the one to explain most of how everything worked around here, that they ran from killers and did generators. On her first trial, she was worried she wouldn’t be able to do the generators that well, having no previous mechanic experiences, but...it all came naturally to her like she had been doing it for years. That was probably what it had been like for everyone, seeming that quite a few of them didn’t seem like the engineering types….except maybe Yui.

━━━━━⊱✿⊰━━━━━━

She got summoned into a trial first, along with Meg, Nea, and Quentin. This was normally a good group. Quentin was normally the healer since he was more of the type to help others rather than help himself, and the other three were normally able to escape killers pretty easily and run them around for long periods. And it always ended with the four of them taunting at the opened exit gates, the killers giving them annoyed looks as though they wanted them to leave. Which they probably did if she was completely honest.

But today did not seem to be their lucky day. They were up against one of the Legion members...Frank, maybe she thought it was? And he had seemed to take the smart route, making sure Quentin was out of the game quick, so they’d have a lesser chance of healing themselves...and he had brought that damned iridescent button, so their pallet looping was useless at that point. So...they weren’t left with much of a choice besides trying to go around and heal each other...do generators...and try not to get seen, all at the same time. And you could probably guess that didn’t go down well.

It started with Meg...the girl having been knocked down after a good minute or so of being chased...which was pretty good with a team with basically no pallets. While Meg was on the hook, he had found Nea pretty quickly waiting around for the save, knocking her down and taking her towards a hook.

Mal had gone in for the save, praying that she would have enough time...and she did, after Meg was on the second hook stage though. Nea had been hooked once before now, the girl had tried to take protection hit for Quentin before he died, but that didn’t do much for the team, considering how the trial was going at the moment. After Nea was placed on the hook, Mal and Meg didn’t have time tog o run off together and heal, so they split. Meg trying to lead the killer away from the hook, and mal trying to go in for the save.

As soon as Mal got to the hook though, Frank had decided he lost interest in Meg, and instead had his sights on her, grabbing her off the hook with a grunt as he threw her over her shoulder, watching as the spidery limbs impaled Nea and took her into the sky.

As Frank carried her over to a hook, she was wiggling and pounding at his back to try and get off, but it didn’t seem to deter him from his task of slapping her on a hook. As the rusty metal made contact with her skin, she let out a pained scream, whimpering quietly as she hung there limply. It always hurt less when you didn’t try and get off yourself...also made the dying process slower and gave you a chance of surviving longer.

As Mal was on the hook, she could see Meg’s aura as she ran around...probably being chased if she had to guess, and that wasn’t a good sign. It meant that Ma herself would probably die on her first hook, which was never ideal. So, Mal attempted to get off herself once...twice...by this point she could see the spider limbs materializing around her. If she didn’t get off this time she was surely dead...as she heard meg scream, signaling she had been downed, she tried her last attempt, and...she got off!

In her surprise, she stood there, dumbfounded for a second before she heard Meg yell, only to be cut off as she was impaled, starting to be lifted into the sky. And Mal knew she only had a limited amount of time to find the hatch before Frank did...so she took off running, hearing the heartbeat soon begin to pound in her ears as the Legion gave chase.

She was bleeding, exhausted, and all she wanted to do was collapse and not get up again, but she knew she had to keep moving. She wouldn’t let this bastard get the last laugh. She was far too competitive for that to happen. She was going to put up one hell of a fight, even if it meant it made her even more tired than before.

But luck wasn’t on her side for too long, as the next thing she knew, she was slashed on her back, falling to the floor with a scream, cheek slamming against the cold dirt of the fake Earth. No...it couldn’t end like this...she wouldn’t let it. She continued to crawl, hearing the slow footsteps of Frank as he walked beside her crawling form, laughing his ass off as he looked down at her.

“Don’t know why you’re in such a hurry doll face, there ain’t no way you’re getting far with me right here. You got such a huge head, there’s got to be a brain in there to give you some sort of common sense, right?” he remarked at her dying form, earning a growl and a glare in response as she stopped moving, blue end green eyes looking up at the masked figure.

“Eat shit bub...at least I’m not a psychotic maniac that goes around killing people for the joy of it. Sick freak,” she snapped back, spitting up the blood pouring from her mouth up at him, watching as the crimson liquid hit his mask, dripping down the side. Though it didn’t seem to elicit the response she wanted, instead he just laughed once more.

He knelt slightly, looking her dead in the eyes as he removed his mask, looking at it before wiping the blood away. She could see him now...his face that is. He had dark chocolate brown eyes that matched with the little pieces of brown hair that poked from underneath his hoodie. He had many scars across his face. One on his nose, on his lip, and hell, even his nose was a little crooked and bent out of shape, God knows what he did to get those, but Mal didn’t necessarily care.

“Tough words from someone I could kill single-handedly anytime I feel like it,” he told her cockily, a smirk etched onto his face. He was pale...a tattoo of what looked to be a skull printed on his neck...and honestly, despite the situation, mal thought it was dope as hell. In the back of her mind, she knew he was right, that she shouldn’t be talking like this if she wanted to be showed Mercy, but she really couldn’t help it. It was just her personality.

“Tell ya what sweet cheeks, if you’re able to find the hatch before you’re about to bleed out, I’ll let you take it. But if you don’t well...I’ll kill you by my hand, and I don’t want that mori I brought going to waste,” he teased as he twirled his knife in his hand. Damn bastard...always had to make everything into a game.

“If I were you I would hurry up...you don’t have much time left before your doom~” he sing-songed as he stood up once more, crossing his arms as he looked down at her, which she could only guess meant he was going to watch her crawl and bleed as she looked for the hatch. Of course, he would watch...he wouldn’t just let her crawl off that easily as she had hoped.

��━━━━⊱✿⊰━━━━━━

As she crawled, they didn’t say much to each other, the only thing being heard being her grunts of pain as she tried to find the hatch, listening out for the sound that was oh so familiar to her. But she knew she was running out of time, and her hope was dwindling. That was until she heard the familiar noise coming from the killer shack, and she hastily crawled towards it.

But her plans seemed to be stopped as she saw frank get in front of her crawling form, standing in the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest, a small smirk on his face as he lifted his foot, pressing his boot against her forehead,” Times up, you’re gonna bleed out,” he said with a small smirk as he put his mask back on his face, unsheathing his knife from the holster as he took his foot off her face, going behind her as he slashed at her, hearing a cry as he stabbed her in the wrist.

She pulled away for a second, seeming like she was trying to scramble for the hatch before he stabbed her in her Achilles tendon. Good luck trying to get away now with that ankle, dragging her closer and flipping her over as he sat on top of her, “Any last words doll?” he asked.

All he got in response was another thing of spit being sent at his mask, a growl coming from the girl below him, “You’re an asshole, anyone ever told you that?” she asked. But sadly, she wasn’t dignified with a  response, instead screaming as the knife was pressed into her chest, Frank dragging the blade down as he cut her chest open, blood getting on his hands. “Yeah...all the time,” he said with a smirk as he got off of her dead body, giving it a swift kick to the ribs before he was taken back to Ormond.

[verai-marcel]

The Sweet Taste of You (RDR2 Fanfic, Incubus!Arthur x Fem!Reader, 18+)

Summary: On a foggy night in St. Denis, he finds you alone in an alley and he's entranced. The taste of innocence, mixed with the aroma of desire sprinkled with a dash of fear when you see him approach, is a heady combination, and Arthur cannot resist.

Author’s Notes: For @ana-xor, winner of the 600 follower giveaway! Thank you for such a fun and naughty request, this was a pleasure to write. 

Tags: medium honor Arthur, incubus!Arthur, switching POVs, smut, rough sex, dirty talk, creampie

Word Count: 3602

AO3 Link is here, cowfolks.

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He felt it, deep in his belly. A craving, an emptiness he could no longer ignore.

He hungered.

Getting up from his cot in the dead of night, Arthur Morgan quietly grabbed his satchel and left camp on his horse.

Galloping through the fields and forests, he made his way to Saint Denis, down a familiar road, winding through a dark alley, to a door on the backside of a nondescript building. A red lantern hung above his head as he knocked quietly three times.

A slot slid open and a pair of kohl-lined eyes blinked at him. A lilting, accented voice called out through the door.

“Welcome, Mr. Callahan. The usual?”

“Feelin’ a bit… more.”

The door opened, revealing a woman with tan skin, a dress that wrapped attractively around her body, and alluring eyes.

“Come into the foyer, please. I’ll get Lara and Tanya for you tonight.”

Arthur nodded. “Thank you, Madam.”

***

Blinking against the early morning rays, Arthur slowly sat up, careful to not wake the two ladies sleeping next to him. He checked their pulses to make sure they were okay; he was always careful, only took what he needed and no more. After one close call years ago, he knew better than to risk it. If he was feeling… peckish, he always asked for two.

Pulling his clothes on, he snuck out of the room, leaving an extra two dollars on the table for them when they woke up, and headed downstairs.

“Did you find them to your liking?”

Arthur nodded at the madam. “Yes, they were very fine.”

“Did you wear them out?”

“Yeah, sorry. Had, uh, a lot of energy.”

She smiled knowingly. “Of course. See you next month.”

***

Riding back to camp, Arthur felt better than he had all week. He had stretched his limits, knowing that he should have fed last week, but with everyone relying on him to bring back money for the camp, he hadn’t found the time.

Can’t push it like that again. Too risky.

He remembered what his father had told him, after throwing his mother’s journal at him. 

“You’re a freak. But you’re my freak. So better learn how to take care of yourself. Your ma left this for you.”

As a teen, he had read his mother’s journal, confused by all the advice she had written. He dismissed it all as the writings of a woman at the end of her life, losing her mind to a deadly fever.

It wasn’t until he had nearly drained a woman of her life, watching her lips turn blue before stopping himself, that he took it seriously. He pored over the journal again, committing everything to memory. Never again would he make a mistake. He never wanted to see a woman drained of her life because of his other side.

His father had called him a demon. He was half right.

***

It was a late night, but you hadn’t finished washing all of the clothes that had been dropped off today. You were the newest hire, and thus lowest in the pecking order.

So there you were, a single electrical bulb above your head as you cranked the handle of the washing machine, watching as the suds and water cleaned the last of the linens of the day. While you turned the handle, you daydreamed. An image of a strong, big man taking you into his arms, kissing you, perhaps giving you love bites on your neck… you sighed. Working late nights like this, you figured you didn’t have a chance to find a man any time soon. But you could dream.

When the linens looked clean, you took out the sopping wet pile and brought it to the wringer. Putting it into the machine and turning the crank to squeeze out all the water, you continued to daydream, your thoughts turning to more lurid activities. Imagining a man between your legs, his strong hips moving in a steady rhythm, you were distracted enough to not notice that the cloth had finished running through for a few turns of the handle. 

Taking the linens to the clothesline area, you hung them to dry. Glad that you were finally done for the night, you exited out the back door that led to the alley and locked up. 

Looking around for any muggers, you quickly walked down the alley towards a main road that would take you home. Turning the corner, you ran into a wall and stumbled.

Or at least, you thought it was a wall. You looked up, craning your neck to see a big man with a five o’clock shadow and a worn black hat. His hand was holding your elbow, keeping you steady as you regained your footing.

“Oh, I’m sorry sir,” you quickly said, your heart pounding. He was tall.

“Not a problem, miss.” He had not let go of your arm. “Are you alone? May I escort you somewhere?”

You blinked. “Erm, could you take me to the main road? I can go from there.”

“Of course,” he said as he let go of you, his voice feeling like soft fur against your skin. He offered his left arm. You glanced at the guns on his belt, and realized that if someone did try to rob you, he’d take care of them in an instant. You also came to the conclusion that if he had wanted to rob you, he would have already done so.

Taking his arm, you let him lead you out of the alley. He gallantly escorted you to the main road, looking around for anything or anyone that could come near. You felt safe, a strange sense of trust developing in your heart. He was a stranger, what were you thinking?

But when you reached the main road, he turned to you and held out his hand. “My lady.”

You took his hand, and he raised it to his lips and kissed your hand like a real gentleman. When his eyes met yours, your breath caught. They were the most beautiful color, like gemstones sparkling in the light of the streetlamps. 

"Th-thank you, sir."

"My pleasure," he said softly, his lips against your skin, and you felt a zing of desire jolt through your body as he said it. 

Quickly pulling your hand out of his, you scurried away, afraid of how he was affecting you. But you knew, in your dreams tonight, you'd be thinking of him, and wanted nothing more than to feel his lips against yours.

***

Arthur watched the woman walk down the road and felt his hunger grow. He realized that the small taste he had taken was like a drug, and he wanted more. 

She had tasted of innocence, desire, and a dash of fear. A heady concoction to his demon-side, and he needed more. 

He needed her. 

All of a sudden, he didn't want to go to the Madam tonight. He knew he should, knew he needed to feed. 

Shaking his head, he made his way to the dark alley. 

After five steps, he turned around and left. He was hungry, but he wanted someone specific, and no one else would do. 

***

Another late night, as per usual these days. You were glad that business was picking up, since that meant you would be paid more, but being alone at night was a bit nerve wracking. As you locked up the back door, you felt a tingling on your neck. Quickly turning around, you saw the man from last night, approaching you slowly. 

"What do you want?" you asked, proud that your voice wasn't shaking as much as you felt. 

"Just wanted to make sure you were safe," he said, holding his hands out placatingly. 

You tilted your head. "Why would I not be?"

He shrugged. “It’s late, and I got to thinkin’, what if some robber came across you?”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “So… what do you want?”

The man held out his arm to you, just as he did the night before. “Just want to make sure you get home safely, that’s all.”

You rolled your eyes. You weren’t born yesterday.

The man looked down and smiled. “Alright, you got me. I want to get to know you better too.” Then he looked up at you, and the earnest look in his eyes moved your heart. “May I escort you home?”

You swallowed. Taking a chance, you walked up to him and took his arm.

“Alright.”

***

You found out his name was Arthur, and he was also working late nights recently. He seemed like a decent man, just doing errands for a few businesses to make ends meet.

Throughout the week, he came by and escorted you part of the way home. And every night, you let him get closer and closer to your actual apartment. Chatting with him was delightful; he was charming, funny, and he listened to you with no judgement. He didn't offer advice unless you asked for it, and when he did, his advice was thoughtful and realistic. Too many men just talked down at you, and hearing Arthur speak to you like a fellow human being and not some kind of lower creature was a breath of fresh air. 

At first, you only let him take you to the main road. Then it was down the main road to the side road that led to your building. Then it was down the side road too. 

And tonight? He came up the stairs with you, and stood at your door.

"Well, guess I'd better go," he said, a little sad. He held out his hand, like he always did. You put your hand in his, but tonight you were feeling bold. Pulling him closer, you went on your tip toes and kissed him on the cheek. 

Arthur blinked, surprised, and touched his cheek, as if he couldn't believe. 

"Sorry, was that too forward of me?" you asked, suddenly regretting your decision. 

"Not at all," he quickly said, and took a step forward, putting a hand against the door jamb, trapping you against the door. "Does that mean I can be more forward with you?" 

You nodded, your heart in your throat. 

With his other hand, he held your chin, tilting it upwards as he leaned down. He glanced at your lips before he moved that last inch to kiss you. It was a tentative touch at first, a light brush of his lips against yours. 

As you responded in kind, he moved closer, pressing his body against yours as he encouraged your mouth to open up for him, his tongue tasting you. The kiss became a heated inhalation of your desire, and you gave him what he demanded. 

"Can I come in?" he asked in a whisper. 

"Yes," you replied, quickly pulling out your keys and opening the door. 

***

He quietly followed you into your dark apartment. Seeking the one electric lamp located near the door on a small desk, you stumbled a bit as your hands reached for it. 

Then it was suddenly on, and you found Arthur standing next to it, his hand on the switch. 

"How'd you find it so easily?" 

He shrugged. "I can see well in the dark."

You raised an eyebrow, but ignored the sudden chill down your spine. So he had good vision, so what? You turned around and shut your door, locking it. 

As the lock clicked, you felt Arthur come up behind you. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw one arm against the door. 

"So darlin'," he drawled as he pressed his body against you, "Last chance to tell me to get out."

He pressed his lips against the nape of your neck and breathed in. His voice dropped, and his next words came out in a raspy murmur. 

"Because if you don't, I ain't lettin' you escape."

Desire pooled between your legs just as a small shiver of anticipation laced with nervousness went through your body. You gasped softly as you felt his lips travel up your neck and around your earlobe, nibbling the sensitive skin as he pinned you against the door with just his hips. You could feel his excitement against your rear, and wiggled experimentally. 

"Eager li'l thing, hm?" Arthur teased. He pulled away from you and guided you to your bed on the other side of the room. Standing, staring at your bed, you tried to turn to face Arthur, but he put his hands on your shoulders and kept you in place. 

"Let's get you out of these clothes," he said as he reached around to unbutton your blouse. His hands wandered down, each button coming undone and revealing more of you, his fingers brushing against your chemise. You stood still, unable to move as you reveled in the feeling of his hands sliding the fabric down your arms. He pulled your blouse off and tossed it aside, then he went for your skirt buttons. His chest was pressed against your back, his breath on your ear as he took off your skirt, his hands gripping your hips as it fell from you. 

In only your chemise and drawers, you felt so exposed. You lifted your arms to cover yourself, but Arthur quickly grabbed your wrists and set them at your sides. 

"No hidin' from me," he rumbled. "Lemme see everythin'." 

You kept your arms down as he pulled the chemise straps down your shoulders. The soft fabric brushed against your nipples as he slid it off you, and he hummed in appreciation. 

He cupped your breasts, his fingers teasing your sensitive buds. You cried out softly with pleasure; his hands were warm, almost hot, and it felt so good in the cool air of the night. 

Soon his hands wandered down and untied the ribbon holding up your drawers. They slid down your hips, Arthur's hands following them so he could caress your thighs, then your ass, grabbing and squeezing, almost too rough in his handling. 

"Beautiful," he murmured. 

Then he suddenly bent you over. Your arms shot out, reaching for the bed for balance. He caressed the small of your back, then your ass. You felt two fingers begin to explore your pussy lips, spreading the juices that had been flowing from you since he laid his lips against your skin. 

"Naughty girl, so wet already. I've barely begun, and yer already like this?" 

He slapped your ass. You yelped in surprise. 

"Such a pretty voice." 

You heard him unbuttoning his fly. Then felt him, hot and hard, nudging your folds. He pressed harder against you, and your body took him in, stretching to fit his thick cock. Mewling helplessly, you lay your head on the bed, resting on your forearms, gripping the bed sheets as Arthur slid in all the way, his hips flush to your ass. 

"Good girl," he praised as he pulled almost all the way out. One breathless moment passed. 

Then he slammed back into you, one hand covering your mouth to stifle your scream as he took you slowly at first, then built up to a breakneck pace.

“That’s it darlin’, you feel so good,” he praised as his hold on your hip tightened.

You weren’t sure how much time passed as he fucked you, his hand traveling from your mouth to your hair, grabbing at it and pulling back to make your back arch, but at some point your knees buckled and you fell forward onto the bed. Arthur fell with you, bracing his arms on either side of you as he kept himself inside of you. 

One arm wrapped around your shoulders, his other hand still holding onto your hip as he rolled his hips slower, entering you from this different angle. His deep rumbles of pleasure vibrated against your back.

“Can’t get enough of ya,” he murmured. He started to nibble on your neck, his tongue darting out to taste the sweat on your skin. “Yer like whiskey.”

Soon his pace slowed to a stop and he staggered up and away from you, as if he was drunk. You turned over to see him standing above you, his eyes glazed over as he fumbled with the buttons of his shirt.

You shakily stood up and began to help him. As he pulled his suspenders and shirt off, your fingers traced the contours of his shoulders, his biceps, his forearms. You ended up brushing your fingertips across his abdomen and watched as he dropped his jeans to reveal his powerful legs. He stepped out of his jeans and toed off his boots, kicking everything aside before he looked at you, a small smile gracing his lips as he noticed that you were staring at him, desire written all over your face. 

Arthur stood before you in the dim lamp light, naked and glorious. Toned muscles and skin that was criss-crossed with scars filled your vision, and you didn’t think any other man would ever do for you. He was everything you lusted after and more.

“You ready fer more, darlin’?”

You nodded.

“Good. Lay down.”

You did as he bade, watching him climb on top of you and rest himself between your legs, his arms around yours, his hands digging into your hair. He rubbed his shaft against your folds, against your core, and your hips answered in kind, the two of you undulating together, drowning in pleasure.

Then he re-angled his hips and pushed into you. You hooked your legs around his waist and reached up to dig your fingernails into his back. You pulled on him, urging him deeper, deeper, until his body was flush with yours, his cock making you feel so very full.

Arthur held your face in his big hands. “Look at me,” he whispered.

Your eyes focused on him. He looked hungry.

“Delicious,” he murmured before kissing you.

This kiss was nothing like anything you had felt before. This kiss was erotic, electric, an explosion of passion that left you breathless as he drank you down. It was as if he was inhaling your soul.

When he pulled away, his eyes roved your face as if he was searching for something.

“How you feelin’?”

“Wonderful,” you said.

“Not tired?”

You shook your head.

He smiled. “Good.”

Then he kissed you again as his hips pumped in a steady rhythm. He let out a satisfied moan, tucking his head into your neck to give you little love bites. 

“So sweet,” he whispered, his breath tickling your ear. “I could just eat you up.”

You felt his grip tighten before he started to pound you into your bed.

“Want to make you mine, sweetheart.” He pressed his forehead to yours. “Can I?”

Wrapped in his arms, his body on top of yours, feeling him thrust into you over and over with no intention of stopping, you clung to him, arms and legs keeping his body on top of you, your desire driving you to your decision.

“Yes, take me Arthur! Please, make me yours!”

He let out a wordless sound of lust as his arms held you tight, muffling your cries with his shoulder. You bit down on him, and he muttered expletives as he moved faster, chasing his pleasure inside of you.

“Take it all, sweetheart,” he growled as he spent himself deep in your body, thrusting a few more times before staying still, enjoying the feel of coming with you around him. Then he reached between you two and started to play with your clit.

“Ar-Arthur!” you whimpered, and he kept stroking you, his cock staying hard as he rocked his hips slightly. You felt your climax growing like a wave, and when it came crashing down, you covered your moans with your hand as you spasmed under him.

Arthur smiled devilishly and fucked you again as you came, tearing your hand away from your mouth and kissing you once more, another soul-sucking kiss that heightened your climax and made you cry from the intensity. You swear you saw stars for a moment before Arthur moaned and came inside of you again.

“Damn,” he muttered, panting as he fell next to you, holding you close to him as he caught his breath. “Yer somethin’ else.”

When you didn’t respond, he suddenly sat up and took you by the shoulders. 

“You alright?” His eyes were a little wild, his tone was beyond concerned, almost panicked. 

“I’m fine, I feel great,” you replied sleepily. “Just a little tired.”

Arthur caressed your cheek oh so tenderly. “Good.” Then he kissed your forehead. “I’m glad.”

You fell asleep, wrapped up in his arms, a soft humming sending you to the deepest sleep you’d ever had in your life.

***

The morning sun lit up her skin, a beautiful color that he could not hope to capture in his sketches. So Arthur kissed her shoulder and tucked the covers around her before getting up quietly. 

He recalled a passage of his mother’s journal, and smiled softly to himself.

One day, you might find someone special. You’ll crave her like no other, and no other will do. If you find her, treasure her. Care for her like you would a garden. For if you do, you’ll never have to hunt again. Her love will feed you for the rest of your life.

Getting dressed, he kept looking back at this woman that he had laid claim to, and started planning. 

He knew planning wasn’t his thing, but he had a purpose now.

Get out of the gang. And get back to her.

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

End Notes: AND HE GOT OUT AND THEY LIVED HAPPILY EVER AFTER. THE END. Did I look up the history of laundry on Wikipedia? You better believe it. Hope y’all enjoyed this, especially you, @ana-xor! Thanks for your patience!

[cypris-thalsian]

The Gift: Part II

[ Continued from HERE]

As the world faded from their senses, a faded new one began to fill in. Where in the waking world the pair resided together they'd find on this new plane that it wasn't so. For Percival, the world coming to form about him took the shape of a dark forest, mists lingering off at the edges. The sound of a child's laughter played out in the distance slowly coming nearer until the sight of a young boy eerily similar to a young Percival himself gave a tug at the warlock's clothes. "Excuse me, do I know you?" he questioned. 

The plane which Cypris awoke didn't seem all too dissimilar to the other. Darkened forest, though rather than a youthful representation of herself it was a swirl of whispers that breathed past her ears. The chill of the world nipped along the ends of small hairs, bringing note to the loss of fire to her senses. Pressing a hand to her head, foggy awareness slowly gave way. As another whisper whisked by, Cypris spun, "Percival?" she called out.

He wasn't there, at least not where she could see or properly sense him. Their magics had been dulled leaving the pair with the oddly normal senses rather than anything they often relied on for aid. All but one, if either focused enough their thoughts could be relayed by the whispers.

"Cypris?!" he shouted out looking into the dark forest. He felt like he knew this place. Or this kind of place. Mental illusions and dreams of fear. This was something he had surely inflicted on others before. Karma finally biting him in the ass.

When the little Percival appeared before him, instinct made him feel the need to lash out. Anything and everything here was a potential threat.

He raised his fingers up to snap, but nothing happened. No fire. No curses. Hardly a sputtering spark to dispel this illusion.

"Shut up, boy. You're not real..." he huffed before looking back out into the forest.

"Cypris where are you?!?"

"Well that's not very nice." Came the smaller voice of the boy. As the warlock snapped the boy seemed all together puzzled but laughed, "I can do that too!" And snapped his fingers.

There the man went calling the name. "She can't hear you. Not like that." He answered offering a hint of insight. Not ready to be yelled at again the boy started for a path. "Everyone thinks they know what this is. They always think they're smart, but you never ask the right questions." he mumbled, hands jutted in his pockets as he leaned against a tree and simply watched as the Warlock worked through his senses. "You weren't even supposed to be here, but we're curious."

[ Written with @thalsianiii​ ]

Cy spun as another torrent of whispers passed. One catching her ears more than the rest. Percival's voice. He was out there, pinpointing which direction on the other hand was easier said than done. Taking a deepened breath she called out, "Percival?! I'm HERE!" For all the good it would do. 

Another turn brought her face to face with a lurking shadow. "You done been ingorin' my calls,  girl. You want the blessings so long as it suites you. We come, we give, we're generous. Till ya give us reason to not be."

Swallowing hard, Cypris' eyes widened as the shadow slithered through the trees. "I'm sorry." She took a knee and bowed her head, her thoughts reeling through the past months from the moment she'd set a bargain on. Reeling through the possibilities of what she'd gotten the pair pulled into.

Percival scowled at his childish mirror. But even he knew a hint when he heard one.

If she couldn't hear his voice. She should be able to hear his thoughts, his soul. It was for situations exactly like this that they bound themselves together in the first place.

He thought hard. Thought about Cypris, reaching out to her. Shouting as loud as he could in her mind that he was here too with her.

"I don't need to be lectured by a child," he hissed, "even if it's me. Whatever you are, face me with some pride!"

Challenging the individual that seemed to be in control of this world was probably a stupid idea. But that was Percival. His ego was his biggest downfall.

"Curious." The boy spoke, continuing to watch Percival. "Face you with pride? Assuming that this is not a form of it. You're warmer with your efforts. You're still not very smart are you? We've heard so many things."

Pacing around a tree, the figure that stepped out from behind the tree was now the figure of Percival's father. "Is this one a better fit, Boy? Or should I try again? I'm rather fond of faces you see. There are ssso many. Some of them are useful." Shoulders pressed back as a hand reached into a pocket to withdraw a time piece. 

"Your connection intrigues me. Not that it's the first connection I've witnessed over the years. But in all reality, someone such as you should not have been able to pair with one such as her." The man lifted his gaze to rest watchful on Percival's own.

"It wasn't intentional, I assure you." Cypris' jaw tightened and loosed before she lifted her gaze to the shadow. A warm breeze carried through and with it the familiar sensation of Percival and the reassurance that he was indeed out there. Her own thoughts fluttered with what energy she could muster to return the reassurance through their connection. 

A gruff hiss sounded as her shadow took on the form of a fiery haired figure. Not all too dissimilar to Cypris, though a masculine image. Tugging at his vest to settle a pair of buttons. "It doesn't much matter now. You're to be tested, you and this pet of yours." A deepened chuckle sounded, "He's stronger than I thought. Bazi wasn't quite ready for that little curse he spit."

"First... find each other, if you can. The next task will come after. Along with a gift." The grin spread wide and mischievous as he slowly faded away.

"I don't need to be talked down to by some drug induced dream!" Percival roared out as the entity changed shape. It seemed to know his tender spots. But that wasn't enough for Percival to be crippled.

"What ever lesser illusion or mind  worm you are, I won't be manipulated. I, who have mastered magics beyond this world. Who have travelled the cosmos. You are beneath me!"

His rage filled pride swelled. Even with their magic weakened, surely this being would feel his inner felfire swell and burn.

"In all reality? That's why I won't be talked down to by trash like you. I command forces beyond reality itself. Now give me back my wife!"

His roaring demands where as much a psychic scream as they were verbal. If there was nothing else to be said about Percival, it was that his will was iron.

"That's cute that you still think this is a dream. It's similar, that's true, but still very far from it." The timepiece was tucked away as an arrogant smile lingered on the edges of the man's features. 

With a tsk of his tongue, knowing he was plucking away at the warlocks nerves, he decidedly hung on to the image for the moment. "Lesser illusion, please. It's for your own sanity I hold this form. If you'd stop to think rather than react this conversation could be civil."

Continuing to pace around the small clearing, a hand extended outward gesturing at the forest about. "You claim to have such powers, yet here there are empty. Its similar to a dream but so much more. Conquered and mastered magics beyond this world and yet you still have yet to master what remains of this world. You choose your ignorance, Percival. And choosing such things will surely see you fail."

The figure came to stop before the Warlock meeting his gaze unwavering as the insults flew and demands were made. "Funny that. You think me trash, your wife on the other hand. Well, she's rather beautiful, in our own way." Leaning closer he whispered to the man's ear, "She bows at my feet. Imagine the things she'd let me do if I but made a simple request."

Laughter sounded out and as he leaned back shadows billowed in with the mass of whispers that had been withheld from the warlock. When they abated the shadow of a slithering giant serpent swayed around the clearing. "Fortunately for you, she's rather boring given how smitten she is. I'll tell you as I told her, your first task is to find each other. If you can manage that we shall see how you fair with the next."

Cypris winced at the rush of the screaming within her mind, it was enough to stir an ache to her bones. Pressing up to her feet, she looked about her own clearing for any signs or clues. Starting with where the shadow had first disappeared. The frustration simmering through the connection made it more and more difficult to focus. and so her thoughts reached out, hopeful to bring a sense of calm to the situation. 

'Percival, I'm here. In a clearing of trees. Not much underbrush... I'm here, where are you?' She repeated the sentiment turning her circles looking for anything that might tell a tale of where to go. It was  as she neared the edge of the clearing she spied mingled in the roots of the trees, old runes, similar to the ones that had adorned a select few of the steins about the booth.

"What ever you are, I will bear down every ounce of chaotic might into your vile serpentine head," Percival defied. He would never bend the knee to anything. No matter how intimidating. He had looked into the face of cosmic Gods and walked away. This was nothing.

He stared with absolute conviction at the serpentine figure. His wife's thoughts reaching him first.

"in a forest with fog. Having a pissing contest with a snake." he answered before directing his attention back to the serpent.

"I will find my wife, Escape this dream of yours, and slay you with my own two hands. Consider that a promise. Snake."

He really did have the audacity to spit in this deity's face like that. Such was the prerogative of a man who watched a God die across the galaxy.

"You won't..." Came a simple refined and arrogant retort. "Ungrateful and willfully ignorant." He hissed only to fade away into the mists. His observations of the man's demeanor had been made, now it was time to observe their worth under pressure. 

Hurrying to one of the stones, Cypris dusted off a bit of the moss for a better view of the rune. Moving from one to the next about the circle, she made an effort to mentally note where each laid. 

"You... Oh Percival. I hope for both our sakes you didn't piss him off too bad. He was a Ghede, I'm not sure which one..." After a moment's pause, she relayed her findings with their images, "There are runes, mixed within the roots of the trees, Its similar to a compass."

Percival just huffed. Figured this snake would get the last word. How annoying similar to himself that was.

"He pissed me off first. Whatever he is, he's dead. Just doesn't know it yet." he grunted back.

He looked about the near by trees and rocks. Trying to make sense of the foreign runes that dotted the landscape.

"So we can figure out what direction is north. How does that guide us back together?"

The sigh from Cypris was almost audible through their thoughts, "The ghede Loa, they're the ones who blessed the fetish." She tried to explain. "you kill one you seek the wrath of the others."

Her mind was reeling with what had transgressed during the brief conversation. There were always clues, breadcrumbs in such puzzles. The question of the runes hadn't come to her own thoughts until Percival thought it. Finding the direction in a misty wooded area had always been a struggle. Looking upward in hopes of finding stars, only a few glinted through the trees and it was enough to stir her own frustration. 

Brows furrowed as she started to pace the circle. "What order are yours in?" After her own question was thought, she relayed images of her facing one that was simple with three lines that formed something akin to an S "Sowilo", to the left one with two lines connected at a peak in an oddly formed backwards 7 "Laguz," to the right of the first, four lines with the two in the middle intersecting to form similar to an hourglass turned on it's side "Dagaz" , And across from the first one appeared with three lines similar to the vrykrul runes in the shape of an N "Hagalaz."

There were some in between nearer to the others, but  the four had stood out more. The runes about Percival's clearing read similarly, though the order of the second and first were switched.

Percival followed along at her instruction and inspected the runes. "I have a seven, and S, a sideways hourglass, and... The letter N?" he answered in the same pattern that she showed him. Clearly he didn't know the language.

"My first two are opposite to yours, it seems. What do these characters mean?" he asked. Why couldn't they just burn this imaginary forest down. Damn magic dreams!

"And for what its worth, I'll kill them all off if I have too. If trolls can do it, so can I."

Kneeling to a bit of dirt within the circle, Cypris etched the order of her runes next to the order of her own in hopes there might be a clue with their layout. SHe made an effort to explain them as she went, *"Sowilo, the S, it's representative to the sun, light, honor, victory.... Laguz, the one like a backward seven, is water, intuition, flow of emotions and power. Dagaz, the side turned hourglass, is the dawn. Similar to the light and sun, but more in the essence of bringing awareness. The last, Hagalaz, is cold, wrath. Some of the tribes use it near places for their kin to submit to a challenge and testing of their will..."

Pressing up she looked over the order of both circles. Given what she knew of the runes it seemed a bit more silly that they could simply be compass markers. Taking a deepened breath she shook her head, "Any of this sounding like something the Ghede said?"

"Not sure," Percival grunted, still pissed off.

"Blah blah you're dumb blah blah your magic sucks blah blah, mostly." he riddled off like a petty child. He was still pissed off.

"He did mention something about challenges though. That our 'first' was to find each other. You think if we go in the direction of that one, we'll meet up? Or is it some serpentine ruse to get us to go the wrong way?"

"He said I'd been ignoring him." She let off a long sigh, her own reflection on the past months if not longer she realized she'd done a lot of ignoring things. "He mentioned the challenge too. Which is probably my fault." She conceded the connection. 

"Ghede's like mischief, but they don't lie, not really. Pretty similar to our own flavor, twist the truth for a rise. Which apparently worked if you're pouting." Lips pursed, it was hard to stay cross towards her husband. His temper had never been a thing she'd been blind to. 

"He did say find each other was the first challenge and there would be a gift. While I'm not sure I want to accept a gift from him right this moment, I don't see that we have much choice. Perhaps they're more like road signs... this way to Redridge that way to Westfall sort of thing..."

"Then I guess we start walking," he huffed. Looking at the rune "Just follow the one that looks like the letter N."

To which, Percival started walking. Not even a light to guide him. What bullshit! But he was nothing if not stubborn. Which, might be comforting to Mrs. Cypris in the moment. At least she could rely that he wouldn't give up anytime soon.

Letting off a huff of her own she nodded before she realized the warlock couldn't see her, "Walking it is." Turning about until she found the matching rune, and the nearer path, she started trudging along. Idly her hands wandered over her form, checking for anything that might be tucked away in pockets but found nothing. 

"You have moments of being cute when you're mad, you know." She gently chided. "If their intentions were worse, we'd not be given the challenge. This sort of thing is usually a compliment, if you can believe it." 

The misty forest remained the same for far longer than it seemed it should. But as they neared the edges, the mists began to lift with a glint of what could be cool sunlight gleaming ahead. The leaves above began to rustle to life with the gentle breeze that carried the whispers. Some still touting memories unique to Percival or Cypris while others were remnants of lost lives. Souls were lingering but the stories they told her far harder to comprehend.

Percival murmured to himself more so than anything as he walked the darkened path.

"Oh do I?" he answered back, at least she could lighten his mood a bit. "Suppose you'd think so since you're never on the receiving end of it."

He continued on the path, walking with intent and purpose. Each stride carrying the weight of his conviction. Whispers from his past poked and prodded at his mind. But he paid them no heed. Whispers of the past had no bearing on his future.

"I think I see a light a head, do you?"

"Mm I was on the receiving end once... that's all I ever care to be, Dove." She admitted as she let off a quiet hum. Most of the whispers of her past were easily ignored while a select few held just enough to get under her skin. 

Lifting her gaze as the fog seemed to disperse she nodded, "A little bit yes. Seems a little ominous. Isn't that precisely what people telling dying folks to avoid?" 

The closer they worked to the next clearing the more of what lay beyond the forest resolved. For Cypris a field appeared, to one side lay what looked like a small church building with a graveyard off to the side. The whispers remained within the woods as she stepped through, watching the treeline for any sign of Percival but only finding one who looked to be digging near one of the gravestones. "Do you see a church?" She asked curiously. 

The closer to the light that Percival came the warmer the world seemed to grow. Just as with Cypris' path the whispers seemed to be contained to the forest, what laid beyond was no mere field but a grove where southern moss over took the sparse trees. Further along the path, the dirt widened as it lead to a manor covered in overgrown ivies. Not a bird chirped or a breeze stirred, but on the expanse of porch sat an elegant older woman with a darker fiery hair and darkened complexion humming away as she rocked in her chair.

"No," he answered, "There's an estate here, covered in ivy. There's someone here..."

He boldly approached the ivy covered estate and the red headed woman who rocked in her chair.

"Is that you, snake? Wearing the face of a stranger to play more tricks?" he asked with a commanding tone. Still very unwilling to give these Loa an inch in terms of civility.

The woman continued to rock away in the chair, either knowing of the warlocks presence, perhaps waiting for him or simply passing the time. A mug similar to those within the booth rested in one of her hands, lifted only after the warlock spoke, to take a sip. 

"I've not been called such in a good many years." She answered. "I don't much care for tricks."

It was then she lifted her gaze with an oddly motherly affection. "Brigitte. Maman Brigitte is my name, son. You're a spirited one, I can tell. Nothing wrong with that. I wasn't all too different when I was younger."  Pressing up from her chair the fiery haired elder started for the door, opening it and gesturing inside, "You must be tired, come have a drink, tell Maman Brigitte what weighs on ya."

Cypris' brows furrowed upon realizing yet again they were lead to separate clearings. With a deepened breath she let off a long sigh, "There's a church and a graveyard here, only one about is a grave digger."

Making her way across the lone field towards the man, his own nature similar to that of the woman Percival encountered. A cigar hung in his hand while he worked his shovel humming a lost lament until he heard the stir of the woman drawing near. 

When his gaze lifted it was a fond smile that met Cypris, leaving her in confusion. "You're not supposed to be here, Miss. Either ya found your way into some trouble or..." He peered at the firestarter as he tried to work out the reasoning for her presence. Drawing up the shovel he let the head settle in the dirt as he leaned his weight to it, standing idle as he drew a puff from his cigar.

Percival glared at the old red haired woman. In a weird way, she kind of reminded him of what Cypris might look like, if she was ancient. Even so, his fingers flexed instinctively to conjure magic that wasn't there. A problem he was still trying to overcome.

It was by his wife's assurance alone that he trusted this vision.

"No offence, Brigitte. But the last stranger who offered me a drink was laced with drugs and landed me here. So I'll pass. I just want to find my wife and get out of here so I can figure out how to slaughter the Loa that pissed me off." he huffed.

He did, however, follow her through the door. Maybe this one was feeble enough to just die if he needed to fight.

Chuckling as the human rambled on about the events of the day she weaved into the house. Much of it was worn like the outside, but underneath the dust and cobwebs items told a story of a life once more grand. "I understand your frustration dear. I don't much get along with all of them myself, but I can't deny they serve their purpose well." 

She paused enough to offer a glimpse back to ensure that he was following. She dared give a flash of her eyes, letting them light similar to flame, similar again to Cypris' own features. "It would seem awfully dull to lace a drink with yet another drug don't you think? I won't press you to take it, dear. But I am curious what was said to raise your nerve that you'd consider killing  one of us? There is a lot amiss in the world, it would be a shame to see our numbers dwindle further."

Once through the entry a pair of double doors opened into a rather large library. Some bits still rested cluttered with dust while some remained new. Many of the books' bindings were edged with numbers, some of the less decrepit holding the number of more recent years.

"It wasn't by choice." Cypris echoed to the gravedigger. "A misfortunate turn I think stemmed..." She considered her words at first as sensory eluded that she was in the waking world. Upon remembering the dream state she remembered there was nothing really worth hiding. "From one of the Ghede."

The old grave digger shook his head, "They always up to something. With the flow of things being interrupted, I'm not surprised they are stepping things up." Giving a wave with his cigar, he set the shovel off to the side, "Come on. There is another path for you. Maman would not be pleased if I accept your offering just yet, no matter what my brothers say."

Cypris watched the man puzzled as she reeled through the suggestions of his names in reference to the stories she'd been told and her understanding of the Ghede Loa. A last look about the graveyard, not seeing anything amiss, she followed the gravedigger towards the church building.

"Do I need any more reason than drugging my drink, abducting my wife, and talking to me like an invalid?" he listed off. His rage only subsided by the fact that this woman was far too similar to Cypris to go unnoticed.

"I've done worse to people for far less. Being a God killer would make for a good moniker as well. But enough of my griping. Your serpentine kin challenged me to find my wife. Do you have the intention to help me achieve that goal? Or further hinder it, Brigitte?"

Even through his conversation, Percival kept his minds eye open at all times. If nothing else, Having Cypris privy to his experiences would be helpful in this world of her loa.

"You remind me of my husband, truth be told." She gleamed with another sip from her mug. "You strike me as a reasonable man willing to go to great lengths for truths that most would gladly ignore." 

Coming to stop near a hearth at the center of the room, aged eyes flickered over the collection of texts, this lot in particular seeming well cared for above all the rest. "I do understand how frustrating it would be to be pulled into this realm without warning. Most of your kind only enter to pass through on their way to the other." Pausing she glimpsed back to Percival, "I do believe my son said his calls had gone unanswered. I'd imagine you'd do similar if the message you wished to relay was important enough, would you not?"

"Your wife is fine, I assure you." With a wave of her hand, Maman shifted the flames of the fire to take the shape of the images playing out wherever Cypris was. The conversation spoken could be heard on the whine of the coals. "You'll have to forgive his manners. While he was raised better, I can assure you, his mouth often gets the better of him. Of course the right words have a tendency to expose our inner demons if we let them. Was he speaking to you as an invalid or is that your interpretation?" The question came with genuine curiosity. 

After a moment more she let it fade away.  Lifting her hand, "I mean no offense by that. Simply years of my own introspection. I was burned and cursed in life for spouting off much like you both. Learn from an old woman would you? And do send Lairn my regards. She'll know what they are for." With the last, a stray book was pulled and to the opposite of the room the entirety of a bookshelf pulled free exposing a staircase leading into darker depths. Dimly lit torches took to light adorning their holders the same runed N marked the path.

Once within the church, the sight of the altar wasn't one that Cypris had expected. The large windows above were adorned with stained glass, but nothing of the light or similar religions, but stories depicted of the ghede family. Rather than pews and places of prayer or an altar, the small cathedral was adorned with the varied altars for the more prominent family members. 

It seemed far too intriguing to Cypris. Her curiosity churned away. The sight of each new alter and aspect left her wanting to ask more questions. WHen she turned to the gravedigger he shook his head, "In time, girl. You'll hear well in good time. I'm just a guide on your path at present. You must first pass through the awakening before we speak on these matters." The look came pointed but much as Maman had guided Percival to a hidden path, a tap against the church stones had a set withdrawing from the floor revealing a staircase leading below. 

A hesitant turn, much as she had before, but the faith she did carry for the Loa aspects had gotten her this far. "There's a staircase leading down..." her thoughts echoed through to Percival as she started her descent.

"So this is some realm for you and your breed of Loa then, hmm." Percival surmised, based on what this Brigitte woman was saying.

He approached the exposed stairwell and turned to look at Brigitte before departing.

"When I do see the old dwarf again, I'll be sure to pass on the message. Perhaps she'll have some answers for me as well... Goodbye, Brigitte." Percival said in departure before heading down the "N" Marked stairwell.

"I have one too. Hopefully, we'll meet each other at the bottom. Seems I also met that snake's mother. Might have some questions for Lairn, when we get out of here."

"You might call it that." The woman pressed a smile though it wasn't at all as warm and kind as it had been moments before. Had she hoped the man would stay and ask more questions? Or had she simply played her part enough to offer a sense of comfort before the worst? 

As Percival stepped into the hallway the door behind shifted shut with a loud thud. The top of the stairwell had been adorned with the mere basics of the torchlight. After managing a pair of turns, images could be seen, painted along the walls. Histories of the ghede loa, with beginnings mingling with images of what could have been interpreted as Bwonsamdi. 

At the bottom of the stairwell, Cypris and Percival came to their own version of a crossroads. Each presented with three choices. A corridor dappled with bloody prints, a corridor basked in dancing shadows, and a third that seemed more cave like with it's subtle drips of water and a musical humming that fell eerily pleasant on the ears. 

Cypris had taken her time down the stairwell. Much like Percival's door her own had shifted closed, leaving her in a mix of frustration and curiosity. With her attention pulled to the images along the walls, more of the stories she'd heard from places that she had once called home played out before her. "Why the history lesson?" She asked quietly both aloud and in her thoughts.

"Your guess is as good as mine, darling," Percival reached out in response.

"I assume you're seeing what I'm seeing here. In which case your knowledge of these gods is far more useful than I am. If we keep picking the same path, we're bound to meet up eventually. Right?"

Of course, he had no idea if that was true. Though given this idea that they were being tested, but left with no magic and no weapons, taking the scenic and melodic path seemed like the safest bet. Or so he thought.

"I am..." Cypris confirmed. Her gaze drifting back to the glyphs of the histories and back between the options laying before them. 

"This is a test, yes." Lips mulled as she continued to regard the options to what they'd been through and passed up to the present. Making an effort to place the pieces together as best she could. 

"Shadows, blood, and life....or is it? Ghede look over souls who meet wrongful death, the abused.... Fertility, life... and creatures not even trolls like to speak about. You said you met the serpent's mother. I think I met... Nibo. I didn't dare ask." Shifting closer to each of the tunnels in turn she reached a hand barely the individual passages. 

Inspecting the hints that each had to offer. "The blood is likely sacrifice and collections of those who are to be judged... The shadow, could be a number of things. That melody, is remnant of a melody I heard near Zandalar." Lips pursed as she tried to remember the significance of the melody. Her attentions continued to naturally draw back to the tunnel of shadows. If Percival neared the tunnel with the musical melody, he'd likely feel a stronger pull than mere logic to reason it's safety while the pull was also there for Cypris it was less significant. 

The fire-starter stood and gazed between the two tunnels. A last glance was given towards the writings along the stairwell before she relayed, "The shadows."

"Dare I ask why you choose a pathway entrenched in shadows and not one with at least some kind of comforting music?" He asked as his gaze swapped between the two paths. At least the bloody one had been discarded as an option.

"Not that I'm not a fan of jumping in head first recklessly into the fray. But we're both at a critical disadvantage in this game."

"I'm not afraid of shadows. Not afraid of the others either really, but they seem more..." She worked to find a good way to explain it. 

"I've heard the melody of the other before. Near Zandalar I believe... may have been another place. It feels off. Like a happy death. If that makes any sense."

"These Loa of yours... are assholes. Except that Brigitte woman, I don't mind her." He concluded before turning to the shadowy path.

"If you say it's a happy death, then it's worth avoiding. Looks like it's a stroll through the void. Nothing new for us I suppose." he added, trying to add some modicum of levity to the entire situation.

Without anymore hesitation, he trusted in Cypris' instruction and began to walk down the darkened path.

"You don't like much of anything that presents a challenge." She gently teased as she started down the similar path. 

Much like the forest the shadows whisked about. Rather than whisper, they seemed to wrap around the pair, welcoming them to the dark and nudging around the bends and curves of the tunnel. The further in the tunnel the darker the shadows loomed making the blackest black seem pale. Slowly the warmth of their own energies and the familiar essence began to drift back to the wandering pair. Step by step the deeper the pair went slowly their powers returned to a modest rumble. 

A flame like glow took to Cypris' eyes that Percival would see before long. The light seemingly giving the shadows more depth to the pair, feeding off their bond. "Opposed to a happy death?" She questioned as Percival came into sight.

Percival was uncomfortably guided by the shadows. He was no stranger to the dark reaches of the worlds. But he never cared for the shadows personally. He'd rather illuminate his world in felfire than plunge it into darkness. Even so, he trusted his wife, and that trust was rewarded.

He tried to contain his excitement when he saw what he thought was Cypris at first. Still unsure as to when or what this test could be. But when she spoke to him, feeling it in his gut, he let his pace quicken. No sooner did her quip leave her lips did he wrap his arms around her and plant a big smooch on her lips.

"Very much so," he agreed with a nod, still looking around at their very dark surroundings.

"Now what? We've passed his test. How do we get out of here?"

Her own pace quickened when she saw his own pick up. The fire-starter gladly returned the embrace and depth of the kiss. The shadows didn't bother her nearly as much as they had Percival. Of course they didn't bother her as much as they often bothered most. Rather they had been a place of comfort most times she'd found herself there. 

Her gaze continued to glow as she considered. He was right they'd found each other through the varied twists and turns. Looking about for any hint of where to go next the pair was next met with the churning of the shadowed spirits. Rather than push and pull to guide the pair, souls began to spin about at their feet slowly working their way upward. 

Midway the whispers returned, a deeper masculine tone echoed into the night of the tunnel. "Consider this our introduction. Just a taste. The first test of many to come, a beginning and an end. Keep your practices there shall be no more sacrifices until we say. Your gift has been given."

[suntumarchive]

Argonian Mpreg Birth/Oviposition~ This is my first time writing something like that so bear with me pls! It starts off painful, but he starts to reaaally enjoy it~ Not SFW ahead :3c He believes it’s a parasite at first so please be careful if that’s not your thing!

___

Something… didn’t feel right.

Even though Claudinei couldn’t put his finger on it, he simply knew that something was wrong with him. The fatigue weighing down on his body and the ache in his muscles weren’t a result of excessive fighting; not this time. It felt different. Worse. This kind of pain was much harder to bear than the usual leftovers of his battles.

The Argonian wasn’t one to be prone to sickness, so it was unusual for him to experience these symptoms. The outbursts of sweat, waves of nausea and the dull pain in his abdomen were almost foreign to him. Claudinei tried to recall the last time he’d experienced them with this intensity… Sure, sometimes he ended up drinking a bit too much ale and wine, or eating a bit too much of the raw meat he enjoyed so much, but not this time… In fact, he’d spent the past few days with Faendal, the Bosmer huntsman of Riverwood, who was a rather decent cook and refused to serve his venison raw, even to his half-animal friend. So… why? What could Claudinei’s body be so upset about?

The lizard man let out a breathy groan, biting down on his lip as he forced himself to keep walking uphill - despite his rebelling insides begging him to stop. Mentally, he was fighting a war against himself, torn between wanting to succumb to his struggling body, and needing to find an apparent hideout of the so called Silver Hand. Werewolf hunters. Murderers. A threat to his pack. The Companions relied on him. His people relied on him. They were the closest thing to a family that he had… There was just no time for breaks when pack members could be in danger right now.

There was a good reason why Claudinei had joined the Companions in the first place. He had so much raw energy and anger in his heart, and paired with his desire to do good, it was a weapon against himself and the few people he cared about. Ever since he got accepted into their circles, he’d learned to control his temperament and use it for proper battling. For defending the weak. Normally he enjoyed killing for fun, especially Nords and racists, but right now he wasn’t even in the mood for a bloodbath… a bad sign.

A sudden, stabbing pain shot through his bowels, causing him to hunch over and gasp desperately. For a moment, the severity of the cramp seemed to push all the air out of his lungs, and his shaking knees threatened to give in. Claude felt like a newborn deer, struggling to stay on his feet and praying to whatever Gods where listening right now for this sensation to pass. He could feel his own belly gurgling ominously underneath his armor, quickly bloating up and pushing against the tight, cold steel, which somehow made him feel even sicker. It felt like something wanted to come out of him… Claudinei feared he knew what that would be, and the heat of shame caused his cheeks to flush underneath his scales.

With his eyes pressed shut, the Argonian tried to focus on his breathing, and regain his composure. Well, as embarrassing as it would be to relieve himself in the middle of the goddamn forest, if it meant he’d feel better… Still hunched over, he somehow made his way towards a nearby bush, surrounded by tall grass. Once again, the embarrassment filled his chest with heat, and he looked around several times for potential onlookers. The calm ambience of the forest around him didn’t want to match the sweat inducing wave of illness he was experiencing… in fact, the voices of the singing birds just made him feel worse. Lonelier in his misery. And at the same time, as if they were mocking him.

After fighting his way out of his armor, Claudinei already felt a bit better… the fresh, cool air brushing over his skin was comforting, even though it quickly grew cold due to the sweat continuously forming underneath his scales.

Please, let this be over quickly…

The lizard man crouched down and lifted his head towards the sky. But… nothing happened. This was, of course, not the first time his body played dirty tricks on him like that. He would probably just have to wait. Try harder. His scales shimmered in a light grey as he tried to push… another angry groan erupted from his middle, making him wince. Why wouldn’t anything move?

What do you want from me?

Claudinei attempted to give himself a clumsy belly rub, trying to help… things move along, but what he felt underneath his claws made him freeze. Was it just his imagination, or was his belly actually moving…? No, no way… that couldn’t be. The young man held his breath, feeling his heart starting to beat rapidly in his throat as he tried to feel for more movement. He was hoping, no, begging the Gods that it was just his dizzy, foggy mind playing tricks on him – but no… There it was… right underneath his belly button, barely noticeable. Something nudged against his fingers. What in the world was that?! Did his raw meat binges catch up with him? Shit… no, no, no! Did he catch a parasite?! What was he supposed to do now?!

Before the panic even properly began to settle in his chest, another sharp cramp caused him to whine like a kicked puppy. With a gross, airy sounding gurgle, he felt something shift in his lower belly… Clearly, it was much bigger than what his bowels were used to. It seemed like this parasite, or whatever it was, had pretty much been sitting still inside him all this time, but his attempt to push it out had startled it into moving. That’s what the pain had been… it was probably causing a blockage inside him. The poor guy didn’t dare to lay a finger on his belly again… he was scared he could make that thing inside him anxious, or worse, make it want to push and burst out of his belly. It definitely already felt like whatever was inside him wanted to find a way out… Claude felt his scaly skin stretching as it moved around, seemingly wriggling through his bowels. It was so sickening, so nauseating, and painful… so painful he couldn’t put it into words. Was this gonna be how it ended for him? What an awfully embarrassing way to go… busted like an overcooked sausage because he couldn’t stop himself from enjoying his meat raw.

Instead of the pop! he feared to hear and feel coming from his belly, Claudinei was surprised when he realized that the squirming in his gut actually seemed to move this thing along… A glimpse of hope began to rise in him. Perhaps he could just get it out the ‘easy’ way after all? The young man figured he should try to push along, to help his unwanted guest find the exit… but the more he wanted to squeeze, the more he realized that this wasn’t going the way he’d expected it to. Why didn’t it make its way towards his rear? Why did the pain begin to move between his legs instead? The color faded from his face, leaving him pale as a sheet. He just remembered the fact that he was an Argonian – and that every Argonian, no matter if male or female, had a cloaca. Even though Claudinei was more than confused and panicky, especially about how and why it was in there, he didn’t really care which way it would come out – as long as it would come out!!

The human-lizard whimpered miserably as he lowered himself down on the cool grass, and finally managed to lay on his side with his legs close to his middle. Sweat was still continuously piling on his forehead, his belly groaning and gurgling in a pathetic attempt to get this thing to move… his whole body was clearly working hard to get this unwanted visitor going. Claudinei inhaled sharply, barely managing to bite back a pained scream as he felt the form of the parasite finally slip closer to the exit. It was so much bigger and firmer than what his body was accustomed to, and once again, he feared it was going to burst out of him any second. It almost felt like a rock, sitting heavily in his pelvis and pressing its broad, round shape against his sensitive genitals. The squirming had quietened down by far, now that he would need it to assist him in pushing it out. While the poor guy forced himself to push and press rhythmically, his mind was racing, trying to figure out just what it could be… It almost felt like a cocoon of some sort. There was another wriggle – now it was in a position where it was pressed right against his male genitals, which were tucked away inside his cloaca – and usually kept very safe in there.

“Oh Gods, help me…!”, Claude’s voice broke, and was finally interrupted by a much needed, quite relieving yell. The sea of trees that surrounded him swallowed up his panicked, desperate crying, and with the singing of the birds still mocking him, he continued to try and force this foreign thing to move. All of a sudden, the pain subsided almost instantly, and Claudinei couldn’t help but let out a high pitched moan as it finally shot out of him. Finally, his poor, stretched cloaca could relax, his poor organs could settle… no, not yet. The lizard only had a few seconds to gaze over his own shoulder, down at whatever he just pushed out, before the pain started all over again. A blue, oval shape, about the size of his head… Was that an egg?!

Right as the Argonian screamed in pain once again, he remembered… he remembered that he and Faendal had had sex the other day. He remembered how much he had thanked the universe for his cloaca, the ability to experience so much pleasure crash against his body like a wave… but at what cost? Now he was here, digging his claws into the soft, mossy ground underneath him, with tears streaming down his face… And yet, after the first egg was out, his body seemed to be more prepared for the ‘birth’. The next egg didn’t cause the same, painful spasms in his lower belly and back anymore; no, instead it nestled itself directly into his pelvic area. Claudinei panted, cursed to himself, and pushed... Once again, the heavy sensation pressed directly against his manhood – but this time, he could feel his length, his erection, pressing right back. Shit, was he really aroused? How? Since when? This shit was painful as hell before! But… not anymore. Surprised, the reptile man actually found himself moaning with pleasure as the egg stretched out his cloaca. The familiar, prickling heat of arousal began to fill his lower belly and genitals, more and more, making him want move with the rhythm of his own pushing. After a few seconds of gasping and squeezing, the egg plopped out, right next to the first one… and again, Claude’s body didn’t give him a break.

There was that sensation again, the egg shifting down towards his genitals; and this time, Claudinei had dropped almost all his tension. He allowed his own arousal to completely guide his body. What had been so incredibly painful before suddenly filled his body with unfiltered desire, causing him to blush at his own thoughts. The reptile man was hoping for the egg to be bigger than the others, for it to stay inside a little longer… His eyes rolled back with pleasure as the rhythmic spasming of his genitals tickled him to the core. The egg pressed down on the Argonian’s erection, as if it were pressing a button to send waves of blissful arousal through his body.

“Ahh-!! Oh S-shit-!!!”, Claudinei howled, a high pitched squeal making its way past his lips as he reached his climax. The throbbing of his genitals finally brought the egg to daylight, and he was filled with nothing but intense, but rewarding exhaustion as this hellish experience finally came to an end with a positive twist…

For what felt like several minutes, the young man would just lay there with his eyes closed and allow his body to relax. Finally, the sound of the birds didn’t seem to be making fun of him anymore… finally, it felt genuinely peaceful.

Thank you… I’m so glad that’s over…

But was it really…? Claudinei managed to force himself to look over his own shoulder again, observing the eggs that had come out of him. It hadn’t even properly hit him yet that these were… his. He’d had no intention to be a father. Not yet. Especially not now, when he was in the middle of an important mission. God, he’d lost so much time with this… oh well. After that scare, he needed a snack. If he was going to be breaking into a hideout, he might as well do it with a belly full of raw eggs – one of his favorite foods in the world.

[theangriestpea]

In the Shadows : Six

Summary: Jughead Jones, resident werewolf, just wants to protect his family and his pack from the incoming doom of The Red Circle. Sweet Pea and Lily join him to help keep the Southside safe from human tyranny. Meanwhile a demon princess named Myra and succubus named Lavender had a plan to bring on the apocalypse. <ao3> <masterlist> <playlist>

Rating: Mature // Explicit

Pairings: Jughead Jones x OC, Sweet Pea x OC, Kurtz x OC

Warnings: Smut (now with plot!)

Word Count: 5.5k+

A/N:  Oh dang I'm getting out so much content now that I'm stuck at home its crazy. I wrote this chapter in two days. I haven't updated a fic this quickly since I first started MK last February. This chapter is much more mellow than the last. I know I made SP a bit of a horrible asshole but he will get a redemption later. Top and bottom images were made by @the-gargoyle-queen

Part Six: White Lights

Sweet Pea only felt remnants of his departed soul when he slept. And during his slumber after his last run-in with the sex demon, he felt tremendous guilt for how he had treated her. It ate away at him like millions of ants devouring a ripe piece of fruit that had fallen to the ground. When did he get so cruel? She was going to have his child and he treated her as if she were an old bag of trash. Hell, he treated her worse than if she were trash.

He could feel his soul being tortured in hell. It was distant, like a foggy memory, but it was there. He knew that if he were to ever get it back then he would never be the same as he was before. That kind of darkness carries weight.

He wondered how he could be a good father to Daisy when he was acting the way he was. Also at odds with Lily and now brutally indulging his greatest desires and whims with a demon that he should have no dealings with. A demon which Lily had decided to let into their idiotic alliance so that he can’t be free of her just yet. He wished he had killed her. There was no way he could do that now, soul or no soul, he would not take the life of a woman pregnant by his own seed.

Then came the aching pain of knowing he’d never see his child. It would take a miracle for her to not be taken from him. This is what the cards meant and he was sure of it. They read this situation loud and clear. If only he had done a reading sooner, then perhaps he could have avoided all of this.

But for now, it was too late.

In Sunnyside Trailer park, Lavender was healing her wounds. They were superficial, mostly deep bruises and small muscle tearing. There had been minimal bleeding but she wasn’t surprised due to how rough he had been. Myra was pacing, her energy giving out an obscene amount of pressure. That foul witch had hurt her demon. Worse of all, her demon let him. She could have ended his life as soon as he got rough with her but she didn’t. She didn’t and Myra was beyond reproach.

Myra had to punish her. She knew this and she knew exactly how she would. Hellfire could burn through anything, even the flesh of a demon. She would wait until Lavender had fully healed herself and then she would strike while putting a protection spell on the baby so it would not be harmed in the process.

Lavender was oblivious as she combed through her hair, humming an ancient hymn that allowed her body to heal much faster than it’s already naturally increased speed. She was wearing an oversized t-shirt and underwear but nothing more. Charlie had not come home and she was instantly grateful because she was not sure what Myra would have done to her at a time like this. She knew Myra was angry. What she didn’t know was how angry.

Once she was finished, she stood. Myra had fed her a soul to get her through the night since she didn’t hunt. She had been brought straight home to take care of her shame. Well, Myra called it shame. Lavender called it a good night’s workout.

She made her way to the bed, laying down and stretching out like a starfish. Her bed was big enough for two people but it was nice to not have to worry about hitting someone else during a good stretch.

Myra approached her, fingers crackling with magic. A look of alarm crossed Lav’s face. She knew that sound. She knew it all too well. “What are you doing?”

The princess was on top of her, holding her down by the shoulder with her right hand while her left was over her stomach. Lav could feel a barrier being put up inside her. The bottom of her chest cavity and below were protected with an invisible magical bubble. Her hazel eyes were wide with terror. There were some types of pain even a masochist such as herself didn’t handle well.

Her right hand was suddenly engulfed in a blue flame. Lavender screamed with pain so great that the walls of her trailer vibrated from the sound. Her own magical energy was surging and the pulse of it caused a nearby vase of black dahlias to fall over and shatter on the floor.

The contact only lasted a few seconds, but it was enough to nearly throw her into unconsciousness. When Myra retracted her hand, Lav tried looking at her but her vision was too clouded by tears. “You are to stay away from that stupid warlock, you understand me?” She hissed. “No more sex without taking souls. You need to feed more instead of messing around with mangy wolves and empty husks.”

She took her left hand away, straddling Lav’s thighs now. “I have to go to hell for a few days. I will not be here to protect you. Kurtz will be around but he’s not dependable in his current state. That witch hurt him pretty badly the other night and he needs time to heal. You have to stay out of trouble. Do you get that, you little whore?”

Why Sweet Pea called her a whore it was enticing. When Myra did it, it was degrading. She found herself wanting to scream but the sound was lodged in the muscles of her throat. The only movement she could manage was the involuntary trembling of her body. “Y-yes,” She managed to gasp out with great difficulty.

Myra got off of her fully then, sliding off the large bed. “Good. If you’re lucky, that’ll heal pretty quickly and you won’t starve too much. Don’t worry, the bringer of the end is protected for now. She is safe but you are not. If you die then she will too. The spell will be void. So don’t be a fucking idiot because I will raise your soul from the depths of hell and make you start all over again.”

After one more hiss of a curse, the demon princess was gone.

Back in Fox Forest, in the small cottage that housed a two-witch coven and a baby witch in training, Lily awoke with a start. She was panting heavily, sweat trailing down her brow. The rest of the house was asleep, the eerie quietness of the house settling caused her nerves to rev up even more. Someone was hurt. Someone….

Lily didn’t need to be particularly close to a person to grow an internal connection to them. It was one of her born talents that she could sense others from distances if she had some kind of dealings with them. Some were stronger than others. Sweet Pea she used to feel very strongly however since losing his soul there would be times when there was no connection at all. It left her feeling hollow.

But this was not Sweet Pea, though he was in distress from his dreams as he had been since the night he met Lavender. She would sometimes utter a spell under her breath to calm him, other times she’d go into the living room and pet his hair to try and soothe him. Either of these usually worked for a brief amount of time.

The pain she was feeling was not hers but that didn’t make it any less palpable. It was great, overwhelming, and she knew that the person that was in trouble was the succubus that lived down the street from the Jones trailer. She was in incredible agony and the thought of losing a powerful ally had her jumping out of bed.

She grabbed her cell phone as she dressed, cutting it on speaker. A few moments later a very groggy werewolf answered. “Lily? What’s wrong?”

“Lav is hurt, we need to go to her.” Lily said, buttoning a red flannel shirt over her black tank top. “It’s bad, I’ll have to bring Sweet Pea and Daisy. He’s better at making potions and salves and I have a feeling she’ll need one.”

The wolf was silent before she heard a loud yawn. It brought a small smile to her worried face. “I’ll meet you over there. Don’t go alone. The vargulf has been hanging around the park lately.”

“I will.” She murmured while chewing on her lip. Her anxiety was spiking even more now. “Don’t worry. Just get over there.”

Jughead disconnected the call and got ready to go see what was wrong with his demon neighbor while Lily threw her hair up into a tousled bun before going into the living room and waking Sweet Pea.

“What?” He asked, annoyed that he had been awoken but also happy to no longer be dreaming of hell. The guilt he felt while asleep quickly dissolved into apathy. “The sun’s not even up, Lily, Jesus Christ.”

“Lavender is in danger. We need to go help her.” Lily said, “We have to bring Daisy, I might need your help.” Before he could respond she started throwing the ingredients used for healing remedies into a backpack along with a few tools to mix them with.

Sweet Pea was quiet, an odd feeling in his chest. It was as if he didn’t know if he should care or not. He decided to not. “I don’t care. She’s a demon, she can take care of herself.” Though the thought of her being with his child almost instantly changed his mind. He swung his legs over and stood up, ruffling his hair with his hand. “Whatever, I’ll pack Daisy’s diaper bag.”

While he was collecting things for his little girl, he could sense Lily’s distress growing more. He swallowed the uneasy feeling gathering in the base of his throat. Did this have something to do with what had happened at the Wyrm earlier that night? Would she point a finger at him? Would her little demon master smite him with revenge? His fragile mortality was hanging heavy in the back of his mind. He wouldn’t age without a soul but he could still die.

He picked up the sleeping toddler who stirred minimally in his arms. Once she was secure he met with Lily in the entrance hall. “Ready?” She asked and he simply nodded in return.

They hopped into the beat up saturn that Lily had managed to procure a few years back. Sweet Pea put Daisy in her carseat before getting into the driver’s side. It only took about ten minutes to get to the trailer that Lily pointed out to him. The pain on her left side was growing worse and she had to grab her shoulder to try and keep it in check.

Her state had Sweet Pea even more worried. Lily’s empathetic abilities allowed her to feel what others felt. If she was in this much pain then the demon must be even worse off.

Jughead was standing on the steps outside, ears covered as the demon’s cries were too much for his sensitive ears.

“Why the hell is he here?” Sweet Pea seethed, not wanting to deal with the wolf any more than he had to.

“I called him. He’s going to help us.” Lily said before getting out of the car with the supplies, “Grab Daisy!”

Sweet Pea got his daughter and her diaper bag and carried her inside. The screams weren’t nearly as loud for him as they were for Jughead. He could barely hear them while outside but the sound made his blood run cold.

Jughead broke the door down and ran inside with Lily at his heels. Sweet Pea was a few paces behind them, not nearly as eager to go inside. His heart and his brain were having a fierce battle on whether or not they should even be here in the first place. Currently his heart was winning but who knew how long that would last.

The wolf found Lavender in her bedroom, on her bed, immobilized by pain. The smell of burnt flesh invaded his senses and nearly blinded him. He put a hand over his nose as he moved to her side. “Lavie, hey, we’re here. It’s okay.”

Lavender stopped, hand on her stomach as her eyes opened to see Jughead. She was crying black tears which was only something she did when she was really hurting. The entirety of her eyes were jet black, putting the three back in shock for a solitary second. Jughead could see the singed edges of the shirt she was wearing and in the gaping hole was a handprint, still burning with magical flame. They were low blue licks that caught nothing else on fire and only came up a few millimeters off her flesh.

“Hell fire.” Lily breathed as she moved to the other side of Lavender. She checked the baby first and noticed the protection spell on the lower half of the demon’s body. “Lavender, I’m going to try to heal you but it’s going to take a lot of work, okay?” Lav’s only response was a groan of pain. She didn’t even notice Sweet Pea in the room.

Sweet Pea’s worries dissipated as soon as he knew she wouldn’t die and the child was safe. He no longer cared to help either of them, but knew he’d have to or else Lily might hex him. He wasn’t exactly in the mood for that right now.

“Get to work making a burn salve, Sweet Pea, she’s going to need it.” Lily instructed, “put Daisy down on the chair over there, she’ll be fine.”

There was a plush loveseat along the wall. He gently laid down the little girl, surprised that she hadn’t woken up. He made sure she still had her favorite stuffed black cat in her arms. She couldn’t sleep without it.

He looked through the materials Lily packed and noticed the ingredients he needed were all there. He got to making it as Lily had asked It would take a few hours to finish and she needed it done as soon as possible.

Lily looked at Jughead, “can you rip her shirt more? I need better access. Don’t touch the flames.” Jug nodded and grabbed the edges of the shirt and ripped it so that the hole was much larger. The serpent tattoo on her breast was now visible.

The witch gently grabbed the sides of Lavender’s face. “Lav, I need you to breathe, okay? You need to relax as much as you can. I know it hurts.” She could feel the succubus draining a bit of her energy, most likely on accident. The more pain she was in the less control she’d have.

The succubus struggled to do as Lily was telling her. She was worried if she opened her mouth then she’d start screaming again. She didn’t want to do that. Slowly she began to regulate her breathing, her dark eyes locked with Lily’s.

Lily did not move her hands. She took a deep breath to concentrate, whispered a prayer to her matrons, and began to mouth the lost words of one of the most powerful healing spells she knew. The longer she kept physical contact, the more that was drained from her, but she knew that her energy would be just as healing as the spell.

Jughead watched in awe as the blue flames slowly diminished. It wasn’t instantaneous, rather maybe half an hour of chanting until it was finally all the way gone. The pain ebbed slowly from both Lily and Lav. Lav was close to unconsciousness as her body worked to try and heal itself.

Lily frowned, “your magic is weak otherwise you could probably heal yourself.”

“I had to heal myself earlier.” Lav confessed, her voice raspy with fatigue. She had fed off of Lily involuntarily but she had not taken her soul, just simply her essence. “I used what I had left to keep from passing out.”

The witch’s brow furrowed as Jughead looked perplexed. “Did whoever did this hurt you earlier too?” The wolf asked.

Sweet Pea stiffened. He knew he was the one that had done it. He glared up at the demon from his place on the floor. Their eyes met briefly and Lily’s narrowed in suspicion.

“No,” Lav said truthfully. But the truth stopped there, “something went wrong when I was feeding. I was careless and was injured. I was...punished for being reckless.” And so the truth returned.

As soon as Lily pulled her hands away from the demon, she collapsed onto the bed. Jughead jumped across and caught her before she could fall, awkwardly hovering above Lavender in the process. “I’m sorry,” Lavender murmured, too weak to project her voice, “I took too much, I’m sorry.”

“That’s not it.” Lily said, feeling as if there was a heavy weight on her chest that prevented her from taking deep breaths. “That took a lot of magic that I didn’t really have.”

Sweet Pea frowned as he stood, abandoning his work for the time being. “You need-”

“I know what I need to do, Sweet Pea! And I’m not doing it with you!” Lily snapped at him. “Lav is too weak to do it either.”

Jughead cocked his head to the side, understanding that they were talking about sex. Sex was the quickest way to build up your magic reserves as no magic was as powerful as sex magic. Especially sex between soulmates.

Of course the only one that knew they were soulmates was Lavender, and while she planned on biding her time before mentioning this, it seemed like as good a time as ever. “Lily…” She mumbled and the three others stared at her again. “It has to be Jughead.”

Jughead and Lily’s faces both blossomed a brilliant shade of red. He suddenly pulled away from her and she slowly slid to a sitting position on the floor. “W-what?” The witch managed to sputter.

Sweet Pea was glaring again, “She’s not fucking that lowlife mutt. She’s too good for him.”

“No,” Lav countered, “she’s too good for you.”

The warlock nearly lost himself to his rage but quickly reigned it in. Perhaps the demon had a point. Soulless Sweet Pea wasn’t good enough for anyone but the sex demon that took his life from him. His fists and teeth clenched, his jugular throbbing on the side of his neck. He wanted to say something to refute her claim, but had had nothing clever to say.

“I am amazed how blind you are to your own hearts.” Lav said weakly, fading in and out. “Do you not feel the connection yet? Or are you just hoping it’ll go away? You’re a witch, you should have recognized it by now.”

Lily was frowning. She did feel a connection to the Jones wolf but she didn’t know why. It was a foreign feeling, nothing like what she had once felt for Sweet Pea. “No, I...I don’t know.”

Jughead was looking between them, “what are you talking about? What connection?”

“Your souls are tied together, Jug.” Lavender replied, “you’re soulmates. Lily will be at her most powerful when you two are finally together and I’m afraid I don’t have time to wait on you two to figure it out for yourselves.”

Sweet Pea stormed from the room, slamming the door so loudly that Daisy finally did wake up crying. Lily tried to go to her, but fell as soon as she tried to stand. Jughead smiled and went and picked up the frightened toddler. “It’s okay, flower bud, mommy is right there.”

“Puppy?” She mumbled, looking up at Jug with wide but sleepy green eyes.

He turned so that Daisy could see her mother. The little girl smiled before yawning. “Go back to sleep, baby.” Lily said softly, “Mommy and daddy had an errand to run and we couldn’t leave you by yourself. You’re safe, just go back to sleep.”

Jughead set Daisy down back on the loveseat. The little girl curled up with her stuffed cat and easily drifted back off to sleep.  The wolf looked at Lily with a small smile of triumph, as if he somehow had aided the toddler into going back to sleep.

“You must do it tonight, Lily.” Lav urged before wheezing painfully. “It must be done tonight.”

“I know.” Lily murmured, “Let me talk to Sweet Pea, he will stay here with you while we…” The residual blush that was still on her face darkened considerably. “You know.”

The demon didn’t hear her as she finally had drifted into an uneasy slumber. Lily frowned, worried about her as Jughead helped her to stand. “I’ll be fine, just give me a few minutes to calm him down.”

Jug nodded to her and helped her to the door before stopping and letting her go on her own. She stumbled, leaning against the wall for support as she made her way into the living room of the trailer. “Sweet Pea.” She said tiredly as she looked at him.

He was sitting on the couch, head in both of his hands as he shook with rage and sorrow. How could he think that he still had a chance with her? How could he think that he could have made it work? She was completely lost to him now and he felt as if he was left with nothing. Would she take Daisy with her? Shut him out? He couldn’t lose her too.

“I want my soul back.” He seethed, because somehow that’s when all of this began. His downfall was due to his lack of spirit and he needed it back because he needed something to cling to. “You have to bring it back.”

Lily was quiet. She had brought the soul back to a bird once, but it had just departed. Sweet Pea’s soul has been in hell for weeks. The condition it would be in upon its return was unknown. He might be worse off. “I will do my best. Will you do something for me until then?” She asked softly.

He looked up at her, brown eyes hard and jaw set firm. “What?” He said, sounding more ungrateful than he meant to.

“Finish the salve for Lavender and put it on her wounds. It’s the least you could do for hurting her earlier.” Lily said, making her suspicions known. She watched him carefully to see how he’d react. She’d know for sure if she was right based on that.

Sweet Pea stiffened. He didn’t want to admit to what he had done. Perhaps Lily knew how out of control he could be. How selfish of a lover he was. The look on her face was non judgmental, but he still felt as if she was bearing a weight down on him. Eventually he let out a sigh of defeat. Some things just weren’t worth denying. “Fine, it’ll be done in an hour.”

The white witch nodded, “I’ll be taking Jughead and Daisy back to the cottage. You’ll need to stay here. I’m worried that the other demon will come back and hurt her again. You’re the strongest one of the three of us right now.”

Sweet Pea said nothing as he stood and brushed past her, shoulders bumping. He didn’t apologize as he went back into the bedroom and kissed his daughter on the forehead. “You’re not going to take her away from me.” He whispered darkly to Jughead who was still  present.

“I don’t want to.” Jughead said earnestly. “I wouldn’t dream of it. You’ll always be her father.”

The warlock seemed to relax a small bit at that but he was still on edge with the thought that the wolf and Lily were soulmates. It just didn’t seem fair.

Lily came back in and managed to pick up Daisy. “Jug, can you get her diaper bag? We’ll take the car. I’ll pick up Sweet Pea in the morning.”

Jughead nodded and retrieved the bag while Sweet Pea went back to work on the medicine.

About ten minutes later, after an incredibly awkward car ride, Lily arrived at the cottage with her soulmate and child in tow. She put Daisy back in her own bed before taking Jughead to hers. She nervously shut the door and was unsure on what to do next. She rubbed her upper arm with her opposite hand and shifted awkwardly.

“I know this is a shitty way to have to start a relationship.” Jughead said, “but we have to do this to protect everyone, including  yourself and your family.” He reached out and grasped both her wrists before pulling her to him. “I never had the nerve to tell you how amazing your scent is.”

He leaned down, lips brushing against her neck. Lily shuddered as her shoulders relaxed. “It’s intoxicating, I can’t think straight when you’re close to me.” He slowly moved upwards, planting kisses between phrases. “And you’re so beautiful, I can’t imagine why Sweet Pea would have wanted to hurt you the way he did.”

He progressed to her jawline, trailing closer to her mouth. “I will never harm you.” He kissed her on the lips. He was purposefully being slow and gentle, wanting her to know that he had the utmost respect for her and would only do what she felt comfortable with.

Lily was already melting against him, eyes shut as she kissed him back. Her mouth opened for his tongue and the two collided in a sensual dance. Kissing him was almost the polar opposite of Sweet Pea. She felt fireworks in her fluttering heart and happiness blooming in her veins. She had no idea a kiss could even feel this way.

They only separated when they needed air and only then for a brief moment. Clothes were lost, thrown haphazardly onto the floor. Somehow they made it to the bed. Jughead was on top with Lily splayed out beneath him. His fingers trailed down her body. First they ran along her clavicle before dipping lower to her breast. He gave a tentative squeeze and elicited a mewl of excitement from her.

His thumb glanced over her nipple and another pleased sound came out of her. Jug couldn’t help but smirk into their kiss before breaking it. He had a feeling Sweet Pea wasn’t the most gracious of lovers in the sack, but he sure was. His mouth trailed down and captured her other breast, tongue doing what his thumb just had. Lily gasped out in surprise.

The hand that was on her chest then moved down lower to cup her heat slowly. His palm grinding against her clit as the tip of his finger probed her entrance. Lily tensed for a moment with uncertainty before relaxing again. Her hands were on his shoulders, squeezing gently to reassure him that she was okay.

His middle finger slowly made its way past her entrance and into her core, moving at a languid pace. Lily’s hips were moving slightly to try and feel more, impatience made by her own desires to be loved.

Jughead continued to suck lightly on her breast, nipping at her nipple on occasion. Lily’s hips and spine rolled behind him as she squirmed, moaning softly at his teasings. He increased the speed on his finger before adding a second. Her moans went up a decibel at the new fullness she was feeling, his palm still rubbing on his clit.

She wanted to touch him, to feel him. She reached down and gently touched the tip of his penis, unable to reach much more due to the position he was in. He moved so she could grasp his shaft and lightly pump him.

It was Jughead’s turn to moan. He bit at the swells of her breasts as he held himself back from thrusting into her hand. His fingers were moving much faster now and Lily was making all kinds of delightful sounds. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could wait.

They were lucky they were not too terribly close to the full moon. The closer the time for him to change was, the harder it was for him to control himself. He was fine for tonight but he made a mental note to warn her in the future. His alpha nature would cause him to become much more dominant and aggressive. Some women were into that, of course, but he wasn’t sure if Lily would be.

“Jug, please,” Lily begged, now unsatisfied with just his fingers. She quickly reached over to the side table and pulled a condom out of the drawer. She handed it to him, eyes wide and pleading for him to give her more than just two digits.

He stared at her for a moment, amazed that he even found himself in this situation. He had been dreaming about her since they met and he didn’t think this would ever be happening. He’d have to remember to thank Lavender later when they were alone again…

Jughead grabbed the condom and opened the wrapper before rolling it on. She bit her lower lip in anticipation. The morning after he saved her she had noticed that he was better endowed than Sweet Pea, and she had thought the warlock was big. She hoped this wasn’t going to hurt.

The wolf suddenly rolled over onto his back and pulled her on top of him. Lily looked at him with wide, surprised eyes. Sweet Pea had never let her be on top, despite her asking him if they could try it. A giggle of amusement came out of her as she straddled his hips and grabbed the base of his penis to align his tip with her entrance.

She slowly lowered herself onto him. Jughead remained perfectly still, wanting her to go at her own pace. There was some discomfort as he stretched her out but it didn’t last very long. Unlike with her ex, she was very into this.

Once he was fully inside, Lily was still. Her eyes were closed as she could already feel the empty reservoir inside of her filling with magical energy at an obscenely rapid pace. She hadn’t felt this full in a very long time and she had forgotten how amazing it was. As soon as she was over the initial excitement of regaining her strength, she began to rock her hips.

The two of them moaned. Jughead grabbed the backs of her thighs and gripping them lightly to urge her on. Lily took the hint and increased her speed, bouncing on top of him with ease. She didn’t even need magic to enhance what she was feeling as what she was feeling was already beyond belief.

She had never known sex to be this amazing. It was mostly uncomfortable and when she did actually get off it was subpar. She was able to give herself better orgasms than Sweet Pea ever could. Now she was wondering what kind of high Jughead could give her and she was acutely aware that she was about to get her answer.

Jughead began to move in rhythm with her, his hips bucking up to connect with her so he was going in harder. Lily let out a small cry of pleasure when he first did this, causing him to continue feverishly. Lily matched his speed and wondered how he could be fast and go in deep all at the same time. It was mind blowing.

One of his hands moved to her inner thigh and his thumb found her clit. He motioned small circles around it, keeping in pace with her movements. Lily’s moans went higher and louder. Her head was thrown back as she hit her highest peak yet, vision blinding with light as glowing sparkles manifested around her body and illuminated the dark room.

He watched in amusement at the tiny lights but couldn’t concentrate on them too hard or he’d lose focus. He was moving her hips with his own grip, noticing that she had stopped moving due to the incredible high she was feeling. He helped her ride out the orgasm, her inner muscles fluttering around him and causing him to come himself.

Once he was done spilling himself into the condom, he laid motionless on the bed with her hips still in his hands. They were catching their breaths in unison as Lily slowly came down from the haziness that was orgasmic relief. She laid down, her head on his chest as he pulled out of her. He reached around and took off the condom, tying it off before setting it on the table.

Lily’s eyes were closed again as she inhaled the scent of his sweat and happiness. His fingers were trailing up and down her spine until she drifted off into the most blissful sleep she had ever had.

Tag List: @the-gargoyle-queen, @southside-vixen, @princesweetpea​, @wayward-river​, @lilhemmo, @redhairdontcare732​   (comment/ask/message if you want to be added or subscribe to AO3) Enjoy my work? You can now leave a tip!

[thecardsimagine]

The Tale of the Fog Village

Summary: Venturing out of your foggy village, all you wanted was to save everyone from the looming threat that cowered in the forest. No one could have known what you would encounter in your quest to achieve that, how much you’d gain, and what you would lose. Not you. Not him.

Pairing: Lucio x Reader (Nonbinary) Rating: Mature because of swearing and suggestive content Warning: Blood, Death Genre: Romance, Drama, Fantasy, Action, Alternate Universe

Back to the Prologue / [Read on Ao3] / Next Chapter

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a/n: Hi guys! Got the time to sit down and correct my finished chapters again, so I thought I’d post this now! If you have any thoughts on it, please let me know! And if you could share it around, I’d be very grateful to you! ____________________________

Chapter 5 - The Patrol of the Keeper

You couldn’t remember when you fell asleep. At first, there had been more rustling and heavy breathing around you, but eventually, the area around the cave had calmed. Somewhere between feeling like you could not utter a breath and the curiosity to look outside, you must have closed your eyes, wishing everything to just go away.

It wasn’t quite fair to the voice - the ominous ‘Lucio’ - that you had managed to nap away, but aside from the uncomfortableness and the stiff neck, you were still glad you could have caught up on some more sleep.

“Aha, look who decided to wake up again,” you heard it pout in your head. Groggy, you brought one hand up to brush back your hair and warm your neck for a little while, a quiet groan rumbling off your lips. “How can you even sleep in such a situation?”

Shaking your head, you let out a sigh. “Sorry, I don’t know why that happened. It just came over me…” You stretched out, arms and legs letting out cracks and pops before you stumbled to your feet, carefully approaching the exit of the cave. Stopping, you couldn’t help but be overwhelmed with a sudden feeling of fear, making you take a step back and ask, “Is it safe now?”

“It’s been safe for a while,” the voice practically hissed into your conscience. “Alright, alright. I get it,” you sighed.

Stepping outside, you felt the wind blow through your clothes and hair, swaying them to the side, while you took a deep breath. Taking in the fresh air, you noticed your stomach rumbling, feeling quite empty after all the time. Reaching into your bag, you pulled out the piece of stale bread, working under your coat to break a part off, and leaving you some for a later point in time. You hoped it would still be edible by then, but the hard piece crunching in your jaw was enough to satisfy your hunger for now.

A small cough slipped from your lips as the dryness hit your throat, but you were quick to cover it up by burying your face in your coat. “So what was that?” you asked, munching away on the bread and looking around. Your eyes fell on the ground, seeing the oppressed plants that seemed to have been stepped on by something. Something... big.

“Woah,” you muttered, cautiously stepping closer to what you could make out as a footprint. With one foot, you stepped into it, immediately lifting again to see the differences between the two marks on the ground, shuddering lightly. Not even one toe of the footprint could you fill with one length and wide of your foot, and suddenly, what Lucio said about there being things that were worse than animals seemed very true.

“Will you stop wasting time?” the voice picked up again, sounding like a scolding parent to a child.

“It’s just SO big,” you pointed out, vaguely gesturing the form of it with your hands.

“And it’s not that important, alright? Pretty sure that you don’t really want to find out what it was. But if we stay here, it might come back, and I am not sure you will like that.”

Shaking your head, you agreed with a sigh, letting yourself be pointed into the next direction. By the time you managed to get back to the spot that you two had decided to abandon for a break the last time, the early evening signs were visible and audible. Finally, the birds tweeting returned, accompanied by the hooting of some owls here and there.

The fog had been lifted - if you believed what Lucio said, since a while already - and the forest was soaked into an orange light from the setting sun. A fine evening, how you found, though you couldn’t help the feeling of dread. There was a deep want in you to just throw everything away and go back still, especially with the night coming. And the voice didn’t help calm your worries either.

“I am just saying-” you muttered, making a wide step over a root that was sticking out of the ground. “-if there really are monsters, I am not sure if I am fit for the purpose. Maybe one of those guards who made really loud steps yesterday would be? We could ask them, and-”

“Get killed, so your mother can’t retrieve nothing more than your skull from them if she dares? Great idea. Highly recommended,” it interrupted you, and you couldn’t help but sigh.

“Okay, new idea…” you muttered, trying to come up with something else. “I will guess what that monster was, and you tell me if I am right or not.”

“We don’t have time for this. If you have the energy to talk, why don’t we go a little faster.”

“Aw… So, a bear?”

“Did you even listen?” it huffed, clearly annoyed. However, you were determined to get some information as it was only fair since you were the one running around with a monstrosity on the loose.

“Yes or no?”

It sighed. “No.”

“A… crocodile?”

“A what?”

“Crocodile? Live in big rivers. I’ve read about them in books! They have scales and are green and got massive teeth-”

“Well, I’ve been here a while, and I think I would have noticed those things. But I will admit I am intrigued.”

Giggling, you brought your hands together, wringing them while you thought about what else could it be. “What about the ‘The Keeper’?” you asked without thinking too much, the words carelessly leaving your thoughts while you tried to come up with more possibilities. Only when the voice started to question it, you realized what you had just said.

“Sometimes, you do not make a whole lot of sense, Child.”

Sighing, you gave a silent apology and prayer that you didn’t just dig your own grave. There were still lingering suspicion, and ‘Lucio’ had done nothing else but confirm that you had every right to feel that way. Maybe it was stupid to bring up something like this old story, told in your village whenever the fog rose. “I-It’s nothing. Just a fairytale…”

“Well, now you have to tell me. That’s only fair!”

You sighed inwardly. There hadn’t been much fairness between you two so far, really. It was just a voice urging you around the forest to do a lot of risky things, in your opinion. It was as far away from fairness as you were from your village. Biting your lip in hesitation, you thought about how to explain the situation without sounding superstitious and childish, the last two things you wanted the voice to point out to you now.

“Ah… damn it,” you cursed, feeling yourself giving in to its curiosity.

“Well, we have a lot of fog in the village, right? And the elders… well, I guess it’s just hard to explain what fog is to little kids, so they made up this story about the ‘Keeper’.”

“Go on,” the voice encouraged while you tried to wrangle your way out of a thorny bush without getting stung too much.

“Just…” you groaned, getting frustrated over your clothes being stuck in the thorns. When you finally freed yourself, you sighed deeply, thinking back about how the story went in detail. If you were going to tell it, you were at least going to do it right.

“So apparently there was a person, or so. Everyone views them a little differently. Some say they are an ancient being, and some say it is just a human, cursed and bound to the forest and the village.”

You made a short break, evaluating if you had your own opinion to add to this, but you found none to share. In reality, you found the story a little unbelievable and exaggerated yourself, thus you thought it would be quite boring to tell and hear it now from you. For a moment, you wanted to add something like a cool detail, but it just wouldn’t come to you on how to make the tale a little bit more exciting.

“Anyhow, that… being apparently was very selfish, and it decided it wanted a village all to itself. So it led some unknowing people into a forest, where it wouldn’t let them escape anymore, and they eventually build a village and stayed there. And that village is supposed to be my village.”

Taking a deep breath, you kept your eyes on the ever-darkening path before you. Or really, no path anymore, just thicket that the voice wanted you to conquer despite your complaints and exhaustion. You couldn’t help the frown appearing on your face as you continued with the probably worst part of the tale.

“And because it didn’t want anyone to get in or get out for whatever reason, it created the fog, so that the people would lose their orientation and scurry back to hide in their save village. That’s why it’s called ‘Keeper’ and the rising of fog every now and then is called ‘The Patrol of the Keeper’. Makes sense now?”

There was another moment of silence from the voice as it probably was thinking about your story. You had almost shrugged off the possibility to get any reaction from it, until it suddenly echoed back into your mind, sounding like a disapproving mumble.

“No, it can’t be that either.”

“Well, what is it then?” you asked, feeling irritated again. It was strange enough to talk to someone in your head, but its one-sided conversation were slowly but surely getting on your nerves. “You know, I feel like you know a lot more than you are saying,” you pointed out, hoping to find a weak spot. But the voice only huffed indifferently.

“I am just saying that it’s not that ‘Keeper’ thing. It really doesn’t matter if you just keep walk-”

You stopped. Pausing your steps, you took a deep breath, just standing there in the forest, which slowly grew darker as the time passed. “Ah ha ha, very funny. What are you doing there?” it complained, voice filled with sarcasm. You just shrugged. “Well maybe…” you thought out loud, a smile returning to your lips. “Maybe I will just stand here until you tell me what it was.”

“What?!” it almost shrieked, and you felt the pain in your head from how loud it was.

“You can’t just stand there! What if it catches up to you? Do you want to end up as fodder for a monster?!”

“I don’t have to,” you responded, staying still. Of course, you found the thought of becoming some monster food unnerving, and without question, you’d have liked to go hide again, but if you were to only ever give in to what the voice said, you were nothing better than a slave doing tasks. Someone without your own will and without standing up for yourself.

You never knew what was going on with the voice. The lack of a face and body language made it hard to interpret the silent pauses it sometimes threw in, probably retreating from your mind willingly as to not reveal something to you it didn’t want you to know. Lifting your arms to your head, you rebraided your braid, making it a little tighter. You could feel how your muscles were aching, especially your stiff neck and thighs. How nice it would have been to take a bath now or apply some herbs to help with the aches, but you weren’t sure if you could get either in the forest.

“O-Okay, fine!” it finally relented, sounding surprisingly nervous the longer you stood there.

“So you will tell me?”

“Yes, but only if you keep moving!”

“Hm… I am not sure…”

You felt a sudden rough push into your back, the wind lashing out to you again. “Ouch!” you complained, stumbling forward and looking back in annoyance, though, of course, there was nothing to direct your anger on except the view of trees and bushes wherever you looked. “Don’t test me!” it hissed, and you rolled your eyes, feeling the frustration build from having to be the one to relent again.

Picking up the steps, you rubbed your lower back where you had felt the hit, clicking your tongue as you touched the exact spot and felt a sting. “That really hurt…”

“W-Well it’s not my fault if you decide to be so stubborn!”

“Just tell me, damnit!” you demanded, getting angrier and angrier with the voice. “Is it the Keeper? Is that why you are so hesitant to tell me? If that story is true, I can take it, it can’t be THAT bad-”

“No, I already told you it can’t be!” it growled back. You had to take a deep breath to not let the irritation get the best of you and accidentally lash out.

“But what else? You just keep saying ‘no’ but you saw that footprint, right? It was massive!”

“Of course, I saw it! B-but… it still cannot be that ‘Keeper’-thingy! Stop insisting on it!”

“Well, why don’t you stop being so sensitive about the topic! You insisted on knowing about it!”

“Yes, okay? I did want to know!”

Letting out a groan, you found it almost harder than anything you did ever before to not cry from frustration. All you wanted was at least one clear answer. All the mysteries were getting very tiresome. “I don’t know anything that would leave those footprints… If it can’t be an animal, it must be something like the Keeper, right? A human cursed to keep the people in the forest, that description would fit a monster.”

“Last time now,” it hissed, and you could hear its anger swell too. “It cannot be the Keeper.”

“Why?” you asked, even though you couldn’t help the exhaustion show in your voice. You didn’t even expect an answer anymore, it was a useless fight to have with an entity in your head, but you were fed up with its less than cohesive answers and its belittling of you. So less than anything you expected it to answer you, even if it was a whisper through ground teeth on the voice’s side.

“Because if there’s anything like that Keeper here, then that would be me.”