#whats truly behind those beautiful blue orbs of yours?

[0nlyhere4phil]

whats on your mind beautiful?

[kentoavenue]

grateful - gojo satoru

"whatever you're thinking of, save it for tomorrow. go to sleep."

you release a heavy exhale, before pulling your arm from under your pillow and flipping over, eyes meeting stark blue ones.

you've always been mesmerized by how sky-like his eyes are, but even more so when even with the lights off, they still manage to glow. as if heaven itself lied behind those orbs.

satoru is blessed, you think. but you feel even more blessed than him for being the only one who gets to see him like this—so at peace and laid bare for you.

"you're not asleep either," you reply with half-lidded eyes.

you're tired, sure, but there was no way you'd find sleep anytime soon. not with the war waging in your head right now.

"tell me what's going on in that beautiful head of yours," satoru says, bringing his hand up to tuck back a lock of hair behind your ear. he rests his hand there, too.

you suck in a quiet breath, not sure how to proceed.

ever since he came back, you've been holding him more dear than usual, afraid he'd slip past your fingers again. you don't tell him that, though. sure, he knows it anyway, but saying it out loud seems like it'd jinx everything to hell again.

"i'm thinking of you."

he blinks up at you, silver eyelashes fluttering against his eyelid. god, he's beautiful.

"what about me?"

you should be grateful.

grateful that you have the strongest as your other half. grateful that he doesn't need to look over his shoulder. grateful that you never had to truly worry if satoru was going to make it home some nights.

grateful that unlike most other sorcerers, satoru never had to walk hand-in-hand with death. grateful that death hasn't knocked on his door even when the world fell to chaos. grateful that he's still here with you, breathing and warm and alive.

but you're not grateful tonight. not with the battle he's announced in several hours.

you don't want to say it, but you say it anyway, "don't be a hero."

a silent pause, before, "baby, you—"

"no, let me say it, satoru. i have to say it out loud," you whisper.

his hand leaves your cheek and slides down to rest above your waist. you relish the feeling as much as you can, commiting to memory the weight and warmth of it. you wish you two could stay like this forever.

"okay," he nods, shifting closer.

it's quiet enough that you can hear your own heartbeat, maybe even his, and you hope he can hear them too.

"i would never tell you not to go and save megumi," you start. you hesitate for a moment, but continue, voice quivering ever so slightly. "but you have to remember your life means just as much."

satoru's listening, but doesn't say anything. instead, his hand finds yours and he brings the back of your hand towards his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles.

"thank you for worrying about me, but you can stop now."

"are you hearing me, satoru?" your fingers grasp his tighter, a silent demand for his full attention. he gives it to you. "i'm asking you to please come home tomorrow night."

"i will, baby." he plants a quick kiss on your nose. "i'm the strongest, or have you forgotten?"

you clench your jaw slightly, wondering if you believe him or not.

you decide you don't. not enough.

but you're not going to ask him to promise you anything either. not when he already carries so much burden alone. not when you know how easily promises get broken as of late.

"i just—." you pause to look at him, really look at him. and you pray to god that you remember each and every delicate feature of his. every flaw, every dip, every scar. "i just want you to remember that i love you, always. and i won't make you promise it, but i hope with every piece of my soul that i see you tomorrow. and the day after. and the day after that, too."

satoru huffs out a short laugh, lips pulling apart to form a smile.

"you underestimate me, again." he plants another kiss, to your forehead, now.

"i'm not," you murmur.

"yeah, you are." he raises both your hands, fingers intertwining in the air. "you're underestimating my abilities, you're underestimating how much i love you, and most of all, you're underestimating the lengths i'd go to just to come back home to you."

it's not often that the satoru gojo shows raw emotion, but... here he right now doing so. he's offering you his still beating heart in his hands—and you take it. you swear you'll keep it safe with you forever.

"just—when you're out there, remember i love you, more than anything."

you're holding satoru's gaze intently, before his' drop to your lips, then back up again.

"and i love you even more than that, my girl." satoru presses one last kiss, to your lips this time. “i’ll make it home to you, i swear it.”

[illubean]

Ocean Eyes

"No fair, you really know how to make me cry when you give me those ocean eyes!"

Characters: Satoru Gojo Type: Oneshot, Gn!Reader, Highschool!AU (?)

this fic idea came to me in a dream but it lwky didn't turn out how i wanted it but uhhh oh well

Warnings: slight angst? angst? idk how sad it is tbh, Gojo is a dickhead in this one

He knew. Of course, he knew. Satoru, with his piercing blue eyes that always seemed to see straight through you, knew exactly how you felt. But he never said anything, never acknowledged it. Instead, he let it linger between you, like a secret dance no one else could see.

Yet, it seemed you couldn't do much about your hopeless pining. And Satoru never seemed to help either.

At lunch he’d sit across from you, knees brushing briefly under the table. He’d pretend it was an accident, but you both knew it wasn’t. Satoru had a way of leaning in just enough that you could smell his cologne, feel the heat of his body so close to yours without ever truly touching.

Sometimes, he’d look at you with that playful smirk and throw compliments your way. He'd say thing like "You're so cute when you rant like that" then laugh, his blue eyes twinkling as if he were joking. But you weren’t sure anymore if he was teasing or if he knew exactly how it made you feel—your heart in your throat and cheeks burning.

Whenever he'd catch you staring, he'd hold your gaze as long as you allow. Those glimmering orbs holding the beauty of the sea at sunrise, but with a flickering flame hidden behind them. It was something you couldn't decide if it was resemblant of passion or something more unnerving, like a silent warning of chaos that may ensue.

It made you crazy. The way he’d show up randomly in the hallways, leaning against the lockers, and giving you that look—the one that said he knew exactly what was going through your mind. Sometimes he’d even get close enough to whisper in your ear, “You know, I think you like me. A little too much.”

You hated how exposed you were. As if you were some pawn in whatever sick game he was playing. But you couldn’t stay away from him. There was something magnetic about the way he looked at you, something that kept you coming back for more, even when it hurt. Satoru would talk to you just enough to make you think there was something between you, and then pull away just enough to keep you guessing.

Fed up with being toyed with like this, you pulled Satoru aside in the hallway to confront him.

"What the hell is your problem!? You're constantly flirting with me just to disappear for days then you reinvite yourself back into my life like nothing happened!"

He shrugged, his smile widening into that familiar, mischievous grin. “Maybe I just like keeping you on your toes. You never know what to expect from me, do you?”

Your eyebrows furrowed, trying your best to hold back your emotions. "No. No, I really don't."

“I like that about you,” he said, leaning a little closer, his breath warm against your ear. “It make things... interesting.”

He stared down at you with those eyes you constantly found yourself lost in, but now you were sure of what they hid.

He didn't care about you. He never did. He just enjoyed the attention.

You felt your throat tighten and your nose turn warm, eyes pricking with tears you refused to let spill over.

"So this is all just fun in games to you? Even when you know how crazy I am about you!?"

"I guess so," he shrugs. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he turns to make his way down the hall.

His nonchalance was the final blow to the dam you built inside yourself, sadness spilling over in the form of tears that dripped down your cheeks. Gojo left you there in the middle of the hallway, heart heavy in your chest and left in a million shattered pieces.

And even after he had just destroyed you, you were still drowning in Satoru Gojo.

The only thing on your mind was those ocean eyes.

[zuzuelectricbugaloo]

Release da Hounds [Epic] of War [Memes]

Synopsis: Inspired by Tête-à-Tête, here's a brief fic of Epic being Epic and Nightmare is dying inside.

Rating: Teen

CW: Epic is Epic. Do with that what you will xD

Relationships: None

Word Count: 1, 504

Dream panted, wincing as ruby ichor spilled from his wounds. His body trembled as he tried to stand, only to collapse onto his knees. 

Nightmare laughed derisively, looming above Dream’s fallen form, his cackling reverberating among the other sounds of battle as weapons clashed and evoked magical attacks were unleashed. 

The dreary sky crackled with thunder, warning of rain as the rest of the Stars clashed with Nightmare’s Gang. Blueberror held his own against Horror, his bone cleaver ringing upon impact with the glitching metal of Blue’s war hammer, whereas Ink disappeared and reappeared in puddles of various viscosity all around Dust, elegantly evading every bone attack and Blaster beam launched their way. 

“Surrender now, Dream,” a baritone sweet like honey did nothing to mask the poison that dripped off its words and coated a darkened heart. “And I will consider sparing your precious band of misfits.”

“There’s still good in you, brother,” He spoke fervently, though the tremble in his speech belied his uncertainty, meaning to convince both himself and Nightmare. 

Dream’s golden eyes searched Nightmare’s eye, hoping to discern even a glimmer of the family he once knew. “Quiero que mi hermano vuelva a casa.”

Nightmare scoffed and shrugged his shoulders from the shiver that trailed up his spine. It was cold, that was all. “You truly are a fool. Your dear brother is dead.”

What an idiot Dream was, searching for something that would never be found.

Something stirs in his Apple, a faint voice calling out for its twin—

NO. There’s nothing. 

It’s HIM. The parasite, the slayer of Nim. 

NO ONE. ELSE.

“If you truly want peace, surrender your Apple to me,” his soft voice offered a beautiful lie that promised serenity where actions betrayed his true cruelty. “And end these long centuries of strife between us.”

Dream’s golden orbs stared into his eye for a moment more. Then his shoulders fell as he closed his eyes and hung his skull. Nightmare’s smirk widened at the visible declaration of defeat. Until—

“Then you leave me no choice, Nightmare.” 

Curious, Nightmare allowed Dream to pull out his phone, noting how Dream didn’t call nor text apart from a single press of a button before he returned the device to his persons. “Whatever happens next, it’s only in retribution of your own actions.”

“Oh?” Please, as if Nightmare was scared of whatever miscreant Dream called for help. “And just what exactly did you do—”

“Ooooohhhh SENPAIIIIIIIIII!”

Rarely did Nightmare experience true and utter dread. Unfortunately for him, this was one of those moments.

Nightmare spun around. With the sound of a portal opening and a new figure emerging, the battle was paused, both sides curious to witness as to who had joined the fray.

Epic posed, kicking his leg up and back as he cheerfully blew a kiss to the Guardian of Negativity, who visibly recoiled at the sight. He gaped as Epic skipped towards them, gracefully hopping atop bones embedded in the ground and jumped high in the air on the last bone, somersaulting midair and landing before the two Guardians, his skirt fluttering behind him. 

"Good to see you again daddy." Epic’s neko ears playfully twitched as his tail fluttered behind him. He gazed around, surveying the battlefield and the various expressions that met his form. Which he personally felt was killed, in both his hoodie and striped thigh-highs and garter belt.

After his observation Epic tsked, sadly shaking his head side to side in disappointment. “You’ve been a naughty boy, Hentainess,” Epic chided. He gestured to the destruction. “You didn’t take any of your chill pills today have you?”

“...Did he call him “daddy”?” 

“Sh sh shhhh,” Ink hushed, eyelights shifting between stars and exclamation points as he put his hand to Dust’s mouth. Offended, Dust bit the appendage, Ink entirely apathetic to the fangs piercing his bones as he threw up in excitement. “The chaos is here.”

“I do not require any medication you — !”

Epic held out his hand, offering up two tide pods to the irate entity. “S’okay, here’re your meds as prescribed by your favorite sexy doctor — oop,” Epic continued to beam even after Nightmare spitefully lunged and bit off Epic’s hand, swallowing the pods, carpals and all, in his fury. “There goes mah fap hand.”

For a moment, Nightmare was immobile, unmoving as he slowly processed Epic’s words with abject horror. 

Abruptly he turned, spitting it out and gagging as he frantically scrubbed his forked tongue with his claws. 

“Oh yay,” Epic wiped his hand clean and then popped it back on, swiveling the joints experimentally. “Welcome back buddy!”

“You wretched, disgraceful, poor excuse of a skeleton!” Nightmare snarled indignantly.

Striking like serpents, his tentacles swarmed Epic, surrounding him and wrapping around his legs until he was held aloft, dangling midair as Nightmare throttled his body like a ragdoll. “DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE — !”

“K–eeee–ee–ya!” Epic’s eyelights rolled in swirls in his sockets before he was thrown onto the ground repeatedly. Over and over and over and over. 

When he was silent, Nightmare finally lifted Epic’s inert form. “Had enough?”

Epic squealed, one hand going to his skirt to hold the ruffles down and the other to his mouth as he averted his gaze, eyelights sparkling as he shyly blushed, cheekbones dusted violet. Sparkles surrounded him, his form surreptitiously surrounded by a soft pink and roses as he cried.

“Pweaze be gwentle, Seme,” Epic begged. “You weren’t even this rough when you were inside me!”

Nightmare’s face convulsed, the sound of a mirror breaking as the roses wilted and he abruptly dropped Epic, who let out an oomph as he fell face first onto the dirt. Good thing he wore fitting shorts, considering his skirt flew up.

He kicked himself off the ground, humming as he dusted his clothes off.

Around them, shocked exclamations and “ooooohs” arose from their audience.

Ink had taken a photo of Epic being “sugoi” and squealed, eyelights a heart and diamond. “Ooh pretty! Hey Epic!” They called out. “Mind if I keep this to draw?!”

Epic dropped his charade and threw a thumbs up to the artist. “Course ya can! Draw me like one of your french girls anytime ya want, babes. Jus’ share with me later!”

“Merci!”

Gathering his wits, Nightmare snarled. “Stop insinuating we have had relations you harlot!”

“Dunno Boss,” Horror remarked, “bein’ inside another man’s some pretty gay “relations”.”

“Yeah,” Dust agreed. “Especially if it happened more than once.”

“L1ke, 0nce, 0kay,” Blueberror added, “y0u’re exper1ment1ng and f1gur1ng y0urself 0ut. But several t1mes? That’s just y0u be1ng cl0seted.”

“I’m not gay — that’s not even the point! I have never once slept with this man!”

“How could you deny all the times you passionately impaled me?!” Epic wailed, tears welling in his sockets. “What will you deny next?! Our beautiful and precious love child?!”

“...What.”

Gasps and stunned exclamations. Even Dream was gasping in conflicting awe and horror. “I’m an uncle?!”

“I would rather eat my own Apple than consider impregnating you —”

Epic sniffled, suddenly cradling an indiscernible bundle. “They even look just like their octodaddy.”

He held up the bundle, revealing a rubber chicken painted black with teal highlights and wearing a baby onesie and apple-shaped bonnet. “Do you feel nothing for Tentai Junior?!”

Unimpressed, Nightmare deadpanned, “That “child” is made of plastic.”

“Don’t despair my tsundere tentacle bitchboi,” Epic sniffled. “There’s still hope for our baby to evolve from a mean girl and become the sweet Barbie boi we know they are.” He squeezed the toy. 

“CAAAAAAAAAW—daddy.” It screeched.

“Amazingly, I feel nothing.”

Epic wept, cradling his child to his chest. To Nightmare’s bafflement, even the toy seemed to cry. “At least pay your child support then you baka!”

“I have no child and you’re beyond salvation.”

Dust whistled, shaking his skull. “And you won't even pay child support? That’s pretty low, even for you.”

“Yeah," Horror agreed. “Murder and torture is one thing, but wow. A homophobic deadbeat dad? You really are the worst of the worst Boss.”

Nightmare stared without any light in his eyelight. Then, in an exhausted voice, muttered, “I’m done.” Spinning on his heel, he flipped everyone off. “Take yourselves back or die, I don’t care.” And with a curse he was gone. 

Epic tossed the chicken back into his inventory and clapped his hands. “Aaaaaaand scene!” He turned and bent at the waist, bowing to the Stars and bemused Dust and Horror before holding out his hand to Dream, helping the Guardian onto his feet with an arm around his shoulder. “How was that Deedee?”

Dream smiled gratefully. “Painful and yet oddly entertaining to watch, thank you Epic.”

Epic shot him a finger gun as he clicked his tongue in a cheeky wink. “Anytime!”

“What do you think Nightmare is doing right now?” Horror wondered aloud.

“Probably cursing us out and torturing that life-size punching bag he had made to look like Dream.”

Meanwhile, Nightmare sat in his large tub and laid in the fetal position, letting the shower pour over him.

[merbear25]

Hey! ☺️ I hope everything is going well with you 🩷

Maybe day 26 with Shunsui Kyoraku?

Let it be a woman, and maybe mention a "safe word" and something with pegging/anal play?

Thank you! Have a wonderful day 🩷🎉

Heyy! This was quite fun to write and was a bit out of what I'm used to, so I hope you like it 💜🧡

Whips, chains, and blindfolds: you’d been waiting for the day to push further into the world known for leather bondage and dominating roles. The more you and Shunsui spend behind closed doors, the more vivid your wildest fantasies become.

CW: NSFW, MDNI, fem!reader, established relationship, dominatrix (w/ safe word, traffic light system for BDSM), pegging, anal play (anal beads, fingering)

Let me take the reigns (Shunsui)

The dim light washed the room. Shadows played at each curve of yours being hugged by the latex dress. The dull reflections of the light only added to your beauty as you stepped towards him. He leaned back on the bed, spreading his legs in preparation for your commanding touch.

His chest rose and fell as you climbed onto the bed. You crawling up to him like a lioness about to devour her prey had his heart pounding. Such soft features having a darkness to them was a sight to behold. Your beauty knew no bounds and the effect you had on him was like no one else had managed; that grip dragged him deeper into the bottomless pits of twisted desires.

As much of a lady chaser he was, his heart wasn’t immune to belonging to someone, and that look in your eyes held it prisoner. The holding cell you kept it in was one he’d never dream of escaping. Under that wild glint in your eyes when behind closed doors made each visitation one to remember.

Your hands trailed up this inner thighs. Those perfectly manicured nails scraped at his skin lightly, their dark colors setting a lip biting contrast against his skin tone.

The view down your dress caused a faint smile to tug at his lips. Your soft breasts being presented in a deceivingly delicate manner made him absentmindedly lick his lips. That gentle sway of your hips, the light glistening off of the skimpy outfit, the crescent shapes you left behind the more you scaled up his body: what a devilish charm you had, one which bewitched him beyond measure.

“Oh, darling, you’re really something, aren’t you?” His eyes were hooded and his voice was gravelly.

Your fingers ran over the bulge between his legs. The touch you offered started off gentle but grew rougher, more urgent the harder he got.

“Take this off.” Your command was cool, its icy delivery prickling as his bare flesh. Hurriedly, he did as he was told. Because of how well you’d trained him, anything you deemed as misbehavior would end in consequences which would leave him blue balled.

The tips of your polished nails lightly caged around his balls, his breath hitching in his throat, that subtle quake of his lower body: you couldn’t help but relish the sight of him unraveling this quickly. Every part of you yearned to bring him to the brink of insanity just to tease the idea of release.

“Have you been good?” You hummed.

His brow furrowed as your index finger drew lines up and down his cock. The nod he gave was timid due to the shaky breaths escaping from him. “Y-yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, ma’am.” The fog thickened in his mind the more you teased him.

“And such a good boy deserves some type of reward, would you agree?” Your smile held a mischievous hue to it, while he breathlessly agreed. “Then just keep being good and I’ll give you everything you want.”

Your hands caressed his ass, spreading it to give yourself enough space to taunt him with your thumb. Easing the tip of it in and out was making his length twitch for you. He truly was behaving well, well enough for you to give him a little more.

You reached over to grab the anal beads. His eyes fluttered open just in time to witness you deepthroating them. Your tongue swirled around the freshly washed orbs, coating them in your saliva—a natural lubricant. With them popping out one by one from your luscious lips, a trail of spit followed each one to the next. Placing it at his entrance, your moans intertwined with his as you pushed the first bead in.

The spit coating the string of beads, seeped around his hole. You leaned down to spit more of your hot saliva onto him to allow for easier entry.

“You’re so needy today.” Those words swirled around him, pulling him deeper into madness. With each orb being pushed into him, he gasped softly and gripped at the sheets. His cock twitched as the precum glistened at the head.

“You look good enough to eat.” A low growl passed your lips as your eyes devoured the sight of him. Such a large man, one with a rugged yet soft complexion, and you had him whimpering under your touch.

His huffs turned into labored pants. The flush on his cheeks deepend and his bottom lip quivered. “D-darling, you’re really testing my limits here…” he breathed.

“Oh? Do you want to use that special word?” You knew that he had more to give you, but you couldn’t resist hanging it over his head.

“No, no… I can handle it.” A deep groan rumbled in his throat as you pushed another bead in. The precum began trickling down the head, as if knowing it fell under your watchful gaze. You wanted to lick it up so badly but held back for the time being. You wanted to hear him beg for it.

Slowly, you pulled each one out of him. As they popped out, they sent waves of euphoria through him. His legs trembled and his moans were soft; he was right where you wanted him.

Your fingers caressed his aching hole, soothing it for a moment before giving into your own need to stretch him out, to feel him around you. You gave a few tender pumps into him, which was just enough to whet your appetite.

“More…,” he whimpered. “Don’t stop.”

“Hmm, I guess you’ve earned it.” A sensuous promise hung in the air, while you went to pull out the main event. 

His eyes glazed over from the glimpse of its black rubber. The lazy gaze he held on you stayed with every one of your movements: you unzipping your dress, exposing the lacy lingerie and thigh high stockings. “You’re gorgeous.” A weak yet genuine smile appeared on his flushed complexion.

“You’re such a sweet talker.” You winked.

The leather straps hugged at your curves, giving you even more of a voluptuous silhouette. Your hands pinned his thighs back. You spat down at his needy hole to lather it in even more of your intoxicating scent.

As you pushed in, he tossed his head back. The slight arch in his back bucked you deeper. He white knuckled the sheets the more your pace increased. His gasps and moans became shrill as you forced him to his limit.

“I-I can’t!” He cried out. “Pineapple, pineapple!” He issued his yellow card—a warning that he needed you to proceed more tenderly.

You slowed your pace, not daring to cross this boundary. Your hands roamed over his stomach and hips, massaging his spasming form in hopes of bringing him some soothing agent. 

“Shh, I’ve got you,” you cooed at him affectionately, while slowing your pace tremendously.

There were moments that he frustrated himself with his body's lack of compliance. His heart and soul were owned by you and yearned for you to take him, however roughly you craved him that day, but his physical body couldn’t keep up with you.

But those hands of yours. When they washed over him, he could feel himself slipping, and as you spoke to him - your voice like velvet - it made him desire you in ways beyond his understanding.

He nodded at you and gave you permission to continue. You proceeded, carefully working yourself back up to the pace you’d originally set. This time his body was fully adjusted. His desperate moans and pleas for you were causing your movements to grow more frantic. The slapping of your leather strapped hips against his skin flooded the room.

The tip darkened from the blood rushing to it. You couldn’t keep yourself from tasting him and ran your finger over the head. He gave a shaky exhale and groaned for you as the sticky substance that’d been lathering the tip coated part of your tongue. Your hand then wrapped around his length, pulling and tightening around it.

The edge was within reach. A promise into blissful oblivion swirled around him. Its whispers coaxing him to let go for you swarmed his mind, pushing out any other thoughts. His stomach heaved, and with a sudden thrust upward, he splashed your hand and himself with seemingly endless streams of cum.

You made sure to continue pumping into him to help him ride out that long sought after climax. Your thrusts lessened, eventually stopping all together. He was a complete and utter mess—barely able to catch his breath.

“Such a mess you’ve made.”

His voice was ragged, “I couldn’t help it. You make it damn near impossible to hold back.”

Your hand gently washed over his hips again, savoring how he shuddered from your touch before pulling out of him. Seeing him completely destroyed with the pleasure you gave him was fulfilling in more ways than one. 

As he laid there, you went to his side. Trailing kisses up his arm, you relished that subtle appreciation he gave to your affection. He wrapped you in his arms—one of the best ways for you to end a heart pounding session.

[little-emerald-snake]

Flogging - Sebastian Sallow X F!MC

🔥 NSFW 🔞 MDNI

It’s my Birthday Special! 🎈🎉🥳

This is basically just a fantasy of mine played out with our lovely Sebastian in honor of my bday ✨

Warnings: au, dom/sub dynamic, bondage, mentions of alcohol use, flogging, praise, pussy spanking as punishment, fingering f receiving, after care lightly implied but not directly written

1.5k words

Sebastian sat back in the plush cobalt chair, his brown eyes roving over his subs beautiful naked body that he’d very carefully tied into a leapfrog bondage tie. Her body folded forward, legs tied to a spreader bar where her hands had been pulled down between her legs and also tied between her legs to the bar, the majority of her weight on her knees and shoulders.

She was already wet, sitting patiently and looking forward obediently. She knew exactly what he wanted from her, he wanted her to do her best today. He promised her that if she really truly wanted to push her boundaries today that he would. But she needed to be unafraid of using her safeword, willing to communicate her needs, and be able to tell him exactly what she wanted.

He took a sip of his whiskey before gently setting the glass beside him on the table. His freckled hand wrapped tightly around the cobalt blue and midnight black leather flogger, lifting it as he stood from the chair.

His boots echoed in the room as he circled her slowly, admiring her submissively bound body like she was prey offered up on a platter. He stopped in front of her, pleased that her eyes remained on the floor. “Look up at me, my love.”

She obeyed immediately, letting her eyes roam their way up over his brown boots, black jeans, light blue dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and black vest. She only stopped once she met his eyes, the most impeccable brown orbs shining back at her.

He brought the flogger forward, hanging its many tresses teasingly in front of her face. “Is this what you want me to use, my love?”

She nodded, eyes sparkling with a need that had his stomach tightening. He stepped closer, bringing the flogger up, delicately tracing the tresses over her neck, around her shoulder, onto her back, stepping around her to drag it gently down her backside. “Tell me where you want me to hit you with this.”

She swallowed thickly around the words that she wanted to say. She knew this wasn’t the time to be silent, knowing if she couldn’t communicate that he wouldn't provide her with what she so desperately wanted. “I want you to do it to my back, and my ass, maybe a little on my pussy.”

He hummed, unsatisfied. “Do what to those places? You’ll need to be very specific darling. I need you to use big girl words. No tiptoeing around this.”

She swallowed, face heating when two of the tresses traced up her thighs, between her legs. “I want you to flog me in those places. Flog my back and my ass. Flog my pussy too, but I may need that to be gentler than my back and my ass.”

He chuckled lowly, walking a slow circle around her, letting the tresses barely dance across her skin. “Good girl. I knew you had it in you to ask for what you want. Isn’t that right? My capable girl?”

She nods, swallowing. When she looks up at him expectantly he tsks her. “Here I thought you knew my rules, darling. Do you need a reminder on what those are?”

Her face paled and she shook her head. “N-no sir.”

He clicked his tongue, clearly dissatisfied. “Now you’ll follow the rules but you forgot them so easily when you were getting your way. I personally think you need a reminder since you so easily forgot to use your words and address me properly.”

She swallowed harshly as the flogger dropped from his hand, hitting the ground in front of her with a thud. A shiver ran up her spine when he stood beside her, bending over so she could see his face, his hand disappearing behind her. “You’re gonna learn to use your words and you’re going to address me correctly from now on. Instead of counting you’ll say ‘Thank you, sir.’ with every spank. And you’ll use your safeword if you need it. Understood?”

She nodded and felt a bit of relief. “Yes sir. I understand.”

Sebastian nodded in satisfaction, bringing his hand quickly to slap against her pussy. A sharp intake of air was the only sound in the room after his flattened fingers made contact with her sex but she quickly spoke up, realizing that it wasn’t her ass he would be spanking. “Thank you, sir.”

He hummed with satisfaction, grinning at how well she was following the rules now. He spanked her a total of five times on her pussy, each just a bit harder than the last. With each spank came the wobbly sound of her voice thanking him.

When he was done his fingers thrusted inside of her, expertly finding the spongy wall that had her gasping in pleasure, massaging it briefly to cause a rise of pleasure.

As quickly as he began he stopped, sliding his slick soaked finger to her mouth, pleased when she obediently opened her mouth to suck them clean. “That’s such a good girl. Love seeing your pretty little lips wrapped around me.”

He stood up, pulling his licked clean fingers from her mouth and bending to pick up the flogger once again. He had a comfortable grasp on it, swinging its weight around easily in his hand.

The sight had her clenching her thighs together as best as she could. He looked positively in charge from above her. He stepped around behind her, making her nerves jump with excitement. “Ready, my pretty girl? No counting these, I just want you to enjoy.”

She nodded, wiggling her hips teasingly in the air. She was nervous and anxious but had wanted to try this for so long that she was determined to not let her nerves get the best of her. “Y-yes sir.”

He chuckled, bringing the flogger down across her ass with one sturdy hit. It was both gentle and intense all at the same time. Heat spread through her body, pooling near her abused cheek and between her legs.

Another smack resounded across the room, signaling another hit. This one had her uttering a breathy moan and lurching forward. It didn’t hurt, stung a bit but the heat it caused to flood the area had her growing wet between her thighs.

Sebastian seemed to notice this too, groaning as he brought the flogger down against her again, this time across her back. She looked so incredible right now. Tied up for him this way as he spanked her exactly the way she’d asked him to do. “Fuck. You look incredible like this, love. So fucking pretty. Especially this soaking little pussy. Your juices are fucking leaking down your perfect thighs.”

As if to emphasize his words he brought the flogger across her thighs this time, causing her to inhale sharply. This experience was everything she’d ever wanted. The pain and the pleasure was leaving her pleasantly tingling and euphoric.

His next hit came down on her thigh but the tails of the flogger hit her pussy which had an explosive moan pushing from her lips. “Fuck! Yes!”

Sebastian growled, adjusting his stance as he went to strike her again. Her eyes squoze shut as her nerves flared, pleasure and pain signals getting lost in the crossfire, causing her to dribble slick between her legs.

The flogger came down across her thigh, also hitting her pussy just like last time and she arched, pushing her hips out, seeking the pain of the flogger again. “S-Seb! Please…”

He groaned, hard as steel in his black jeans as he swung again. “I know, pretty girl, be patient. I can’t go too hard or it’ll hurt for you later.”

She whined pathetically, eagerly seeking more as she jutted her hips backward. She was desperate for friction at this point, so hot and riled up that maybe just spanking her would tip her over the edge. “Seb please! More…I can take it.”

Their eyes met and a silent conversation took place between them. She was serious. Turned on but still lucid enough to be in control and aware of her body. He swallowed hard, pulling his hand back a bit farther. “Fine. You want it hard? Then you can have it.”

Her eyes sparkled as he reared back, bringing the leather flogger down harder this time directly on her pussy. Sparks went off behind her eyes and she let out something akin to a yelp and a moan.

Sebastian evaluated her response, seeing her return to jutting her hips back, eager for more. He swung again and she rocked as far forward as her bonds would allow. Her pussy spasmed and a broken cry left her throat.

At first he’d thought he’d hurt her, dropping the flogger and dropping to his knees to check on her. She looked up at him, eyes glassy and cheeks flushed in post orgasmic bliss. “T-that was so…intense.”

Relief washed over him and he breathed a sigh of relief, pushing her hair out of her face and kissing her gently while his fingers worked on the ropes keeping her tied to the bar. “You did absolutely incredible, love. You even came for me. Such a good girl.”

[hyunfilms]

blue side of the sky (lmh) | 17.5 [cloudy days] san

♡ spotify playlist | series masterlist

—17.5 [CLOUDY DAYS] san's thoughts

—WORD COUNT: 0.6k

—ON ROTATION: anything 4 u - lany

San looks at you and he can't help but smile. Because when he looks into your eyes, for the most part, he only sees the sun, the stars and all simple things that make life beautiful.

When it comes down to everything, San tries to be neutral. He does. Especially when he knows he can't be involved and needs to step back.

But, he hates this.

He really hates seeing you hurt, and he hates that you've been crying. That things have changed so drastically, that you've been sad time and time again. That life hasn't been so friendly. Sometimes, he doesn't understand how the universe works and why sweet, gentle souls like yourself ever had to go through things like this.

Initially, San was really interested in you. He was, he won't sugarcoat that. He saw you and thought you were  incredibly beautiful. There was something about the way you carried yourself, something in the way you gracefully moved. He would have never guessed you would have gone through the things you went through if he hadn't known JJ and them. So yeah, he did want you at one point. He still feels those feelings lingering, but in the time he's gotten to know you, he's realized how much your friendship matters the most.

How much you need him there as a friend.

And San will gladly push his feelings aside to be there. The more he got to know you, the more he understood how much of a genuine, pure person you were. You saw beauty in simplicity, joy in the littlest things, and the sun through the dark clouds. He can only imagine what you've gone through, and he doesn't wanna seem like he pities you— but he knows you need the support more than ever.

When you called him that night, he truly did panic. He wasn't sure if you got hurt again, if something terrible happened [god forbid], but he heard the shakiness in his voice and couldn't help but think of the worst possible scenario. He was glad you called though, because he wanted to be there no matter what. He's glad you're comfortable enough to turn to him because he feels the same way, and he feels like you've supported him in the short amount of time you've really gotten to know him. He just wants you happy, and he'll make sure to help you get there.

Whatever that looks like.

He was glad he could help calm you down and be of some sort of guidance, support. Hopefully, in the end, this means the end of all this. Hopefully, this means your friends finally understand where things went wrong, where things could've gone better. Everyone is just going through growing pains, trying to navigate this new leaf, this entirely new chapter in life; especially for you. But he means it when he says he knows they tried. It's just unfortunate that everything played out the way it did, and of course, it does hurt a bit to know that San was there for you in ways Minho could have been.

He'll pause though, and he'll shove that in the back of his mind. Dust it under the rug. He knows you'll always have love for Minho, just as he for you.

There is history there that he cannot compare to.

He just really, really hopes Minho will learn and grow. Not only for you, but for himself. To be better moving forward, overall. Because for the first time, behind that sun, the stars and all simple things that make life beautiful, he could see the pain, the hurt, the fear mixed within— threatening to darken all that gold you hold in those orbs.

And all he wants is for you to be happy.

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[lumenflowered]

Pelipper mail! A dream of a life now filled with heartbreak, yet still surrounded by unimaginable beauty.

Mithalas is dead, and yet, you endure. You drift between the stacked pods that form its buildings, letting your eyes wander across the seemingly endless expanse that should be bustling with life, and yet is not. To all sides, above and below, all around the central rock, the houses protrude like mushrooms from every surface.

Some are cracked open from accident or age, and terrible fanged eels have taken up residence within. You avoid those, and dodge as well the acidic orbs spit by the countless frogs. Nothing else lives in this enormous cavern. Nothing but monsters, and frogs… and you.

Still, you persist. You explore every home you can find an opening to, because maybe, just maybe, there could be a survivor. Maybe there could be someone like you, who has lived among these ruins like you lived among the remnants of two other races, far away.

You find no survivor. Only frogs, and biting bugs swarming from the long abandoned pots, and a few well preserved mushrooms of swirling hues, labeled with a note in that same language you have seen spread across Aquaria. Rainbow soup, the note mentions, and calls it an escape.

There is no need to escape from spitting frogs, or scary yet sedentary eels. Though you can cook soup and often find yourself invigorated thereafter to swim with new agility, you have no need for your concoctions here, where the danger is small. So you swim onward, still exploring every building along your path.

In the distance, an enormous jellyfish looms, darkening the waters through its translucent red-violet bulb. You keep your distance, but make a mental note to return to that part of the city should the currents carry it onward.

Finally, after you have toured what seems like all the city, you come to a door set into the central rock itself. At first it is much like any other, an unlocked way to a building inside, still decorated in that clean blue and gray palette of gentle curves and circles… but when you swim inside, something clicks in your mind.

You have been here before.

In this exact room of this exact house, here in the city of Mithalas, you stood in this spot as a child, and you watched your mother cook you dinner. You were here.

And yet your mother’s face, even in this vivid flash of memory, is indistinct. You recall nothing except her height, her clothing, the soothing sound of her voice as she talked and as she sang… but you have not seen her in far too long. You remember that for a while, in your prior life, you had once wondered whether you ever had a family at all.

What happened to her? Why can you remember these precious fragmented images of your mother, but not the tiniest speck of a father?

When were you here? Did you live among the people of Mithalas, before it fell to ruin? Are you truly one of them? Are you a survivor? And if so… does that mean your family perished in whatever catastrophe left this place abandoned?

The questions flood your mind and threaten to overwhelm you. Already you can feel tears pulling at the corners of your eyes, as you let yourself drift slowly to the cool tiled floor. This, finally, not the beasts outside, is what makes you wish for escape.

And so you push yourself upward, to the perfectly intact kitchen countertop, and you start preparing a bubble of soup. The work calms you, gives you a sense of connection to your mother, your history, after all this time… and connection as well to that unnamed scribe who provided you with a local Mithalan ingredient to top it off.

The rainbow mushrooms crumble in the hot soup, and lend the whole bubble their color. When it is ready, you swim across the room, leaving your tears behind where you had stood, and you taste your creation. It’s good, despite the age of the shrooms. It’s warm, and earthy, and the slight bitter tang is masked under the broth…

It’s not food poisoning that you feel next. There is no churning, upset feeling in your gut, no discontent from your body at all, only a blurring of your vision as swirls of rainbow creep in from the sides of your perception. The whole world feels like but a dream, and you feel as if you’ve been dreaming for centuries, lost to the waves as countless unimaginable sights stream past you. All around, the rainbows coil and twist and threaten to overwhelm your eyes, but never quite, just as the static frame of the Mithalan ceiling also never quite manages to bring itself back to focus and awareness.

There is no way of knowing how long you spend there, captive to the brilliant, wondrous visions. Every second feels like months within the rainbows’ grip, and yet through it all, you are at peace. You understand why your departed benefactor left you their gift, why it was an escape from a time of turmoil during a once great city’s decline. You understand the truth of the universe and beyond, so you think during the endless dream.

At some point, perhaps you fall asleep in reality. The vibrant colors fade away, and for a while you are plagued with nightmares: swimming upward through pitch black waters, always chasing after your mother’s fins, daring not to look behind both out of fear of what you might see pursuing and fear that you might lose track of your mother’s guidance… avoiding the only pinpricks of light around you, for each one could be the lure of a ravenous beast, and daring not to call out in song amidst the silence as even the sound of your webbed feet frantically swimming could attract the attention of horrors below…

You dream of your childhood, and you dream of terror. You dream of your mother’s song, and you dream of wrath divine. You dream of hiding and of pursuit. You dream, as the mushrooms promised, of escape.

And then you wake, and find yourself in Mithalas again. An adult again. Alone, again, as you always have been.

[And when you wake again, you find a near perfect polished sphere of red crystal, cracked in half, and the inside smells faintly of salt and blood.]

I tru ly thought that I had seen the end of these .

...How does soupwork under wa ter ?

[in-the-noise]

"describe a place you think is beautiful"

-- beavie

unofficial issue #9 this is a completely unedited freewriting exercise that took me around 30 minutes to handwrite, the first "real" writing i've done in a while. (it doesn't make a lot of sense, very rambly and weird) will try to do one of these every day and see where it leads me. stay noisy! beavie

I watched as his light, fluttery eyes lifted slowly from their sleep.

He was perfect, the only truly, utterly perfect person I ever could have seen. Beauty of the strongest kind pervaded him, not of strength, or of cutthroat cruelty, of masculine weaponry, but of soft, long lashed and fairy like spring.

It was as if he had descended from the stars to weave wistfully in and out of my consciousness, through and through my dreams. I could see him now, racing through the walls of my mind, light of foot and swift in movement, darting from corner to corner like a hare determined to escape the fox, the toothy claw of my hands. Everywhere I endeavored to venture, the grounded forest of my consciousness, he left behind an outlying scent of vanilla and rose that struck me, spellbound and I would once again be lost in the hunt. In and out, up and down, round and round.

He was mine and ever shall be.

What was he made of? He was made of starlight, of the certain indescribable glow that you had wished to capture and make yours since you were a girl. Late august, dead of night, I remembered the summers I had spent gazing wistfully into the dark tropical hedge bushes of my grandparents' houses, seeing the soft firefly light dance around the humid air, teasing me. Catch it, I would try ; try to clasp my hands quickly and suddenly around this impossible insect lamp. It had to, it must be mine. But, the few times I had found success in their arrest, I had also found them dead in their glass jar by morning.

It was the same dewy, six- legged radiance I saw glittering in my childhood's eye that I saw him in now. It was the same starlight dream upon which I had eagerly tapped my mother's shoulder, yanked at her sleeve and pointed to the pitch black sky, crying out,

"look at the stars! look at the stars!"

I was to live there when I grew up. I had dreamt of the mechanically- fashioned, tin and lead spaceship where I would sit tightly, rocking to and fro in the solar winds, where I would take off at night and never return to this cruel, blue planet. Yes, I would land safely on those stars, live in their fire and burn with them endlessly as my new home of white hot passion wrapped and enveloped me, keeping me warmer than those humid, sultry nights spent outside at grandma's house. I would no longer be the wistful, the hopeful, or the dreamer. The stars would finally be mine. As I looked down upon the Earth from my incandescent plasma home, I would see the same blue waters and jungle hedge forests from a new perspective.

~~~

His eyes were the worst part. Something about the long lashed, freckled and round lid shape, contrasted sharply by his piercing green hue, startled me. I could never recover from the lasting infirmity, the permanent injury that stuck my innermost heart that inflicted me every time that green orb of pleading cruelty met mine.

It was not fair.

Yes, I did hold and guard him as if her were my own, I did fiercely claim and struggle for mastery over his will; but it was truly in his eye, the defiant and mystical, sharp and satirical, crying almond eye that brought me utterly and truly to my knees at his mercy. I could never resist.

The hare had been playing tricks, inside its light and quick foot he held a weapon, a secret move that he would bestow upon the fox forcefully and sneakily at his own delight. The chase through the forest floor, the endless howling and panting, the unsubtle cry for freedom and for posession, all that comes to an end suddenly, definitively, when the fox was injured with the hare's dazzling look.

It held me like a spell, not one that needed to be chanted, strengthened with dried herbs and pig's hearts and lion's feet, stewed in a cauldron until ripe and ready, but it was one that was cast instantaneously, all too suddenly and gripped me everlasting.

All he needed to do was say the magic word, and I was gone, lost under his endless waves of softness that filled me with a certain hopeless light.

I could find it nowhere else, this light had breached through the very fibre of my being, touching my fingertips, my hair and my feet, taking my heart and lifeblood along the way.

This light had claimed me.

[stringoflights93]

Chapter 8: A Tale of Two Princes

“HELP! HEEEELLLLP!” The one in red is still screaming at the top of his lungs as he trips over something and staggers.

“For the Light’s sake, keep it together!” His brother snaps, grabbing his arm to keep him upright. The black, faint blues and gold in his cloak twirl around him in a mesmerizing pattern as he looks all around, the crown on his head sitting perfectly aloft.

The two young men in their fine clothes continue rushing through the trees. And behind them, the chittering, writhing swarm grows closer, their, ‘bzzzt,’ of fury stronger than any predator's growl you’d heard.

“GUYS!” You shout, whirling away from the window, already halfway to the door, your only stop to snatch your new bow and quiver from where you’d left it at the hearth. “Wake up! We’ve got company!”

There’s a crash as more than one of them startle awake in their rooms, but you’re already half out the door, bow drawn as the hulking swarm draws closer, gaining on the pair.

“By the Light! What are those?” Nia gasps, already right behind you. 

“Bugs! I hate bugs!” Imtura snarls, impatiently tugging the last of her furs on as she staggers out the door after you with one hand on an ax.

“Not just any bugs. Drakna,” Tyril seethes, easily gaining and then surpassing you with his longer legs, sword drawn.

“Please, help us!” The boy in red gasps, spotting you and spinning, nearly colliding back with the earth in his haste. His own crown is crooked upon his head and falls into his eyes, the gold of his cloak snagging on a tree and leaving him strangled in place.

“Time to take this dagger for a test run,” Mal’s almost laughing in delight, light footed as ever as he sprints. He hurls the magic blade you picked up earlier. It streaks through the air, punching a hole clean through one drakna’s head, this one red and black, only slightly smaller, no less deadly by its needle pinned arms. It makes a, ‘bbbzzzz!’ of anger as it collapses to the ground with a clean slice right through its skull only just starting to ooze blood as the blade twirls right back into Mal’s hand.

“YES!” His cheer and growing grin are infectious as you laugh along in delight. “Now that’s a dagger!”

As more drakna swoop in from the trees, you stop, warn anyone at your elbow, “I got this,” and aim within the ancient elven longbow. With a pull back of the string, you let your arrow fly.

It whizzes over the heads of the two well-dressed men and skewers an entire row of drakna. “Bullseye!” You crow grimly, already reaching for another. A few of them manage to make sad little, “Bzt!,” noises as they fall to the ground in a mishmash of wings and sectioned body parts.

“You-your longbow?!” The boy in red gasps, gaping up at you. “Where did you find such a thing?”

Before you can answer, another drakna swarms toward you, stinger raised. This one’s blue. It would have been beautiful to observe if it weren’t about to kill you. 

“Oh no you don’t!” Mal’s regular knife sings back through the air to paray the stinger away from your chest as the magical one is still returning. “Hrah! C’mon, kit, gimme a hand with this one!”

It’s swerving, the bug is already shifting on those massive wings. It’s to close to bother with another arrow, and you truly panic as those pincers snap in a disgusting spray over the both of you, its needle-like legs twist as if a mind of their own to decapitate the pair of you. With a wild flash of memory, you dig up the power, and siphon energy into the palm of your hand in a pure form of Light. 

“Ahhh!” The guttural scream is wrenched out of you along with the life-giving energy. The orb surges at the drakna, consuming it in hot white light. Its form glows, backlit as if it had just swallowed a flame. With a screeching buzz, it plunges to the ground where it lies still, smoking. 

“Wow, I really just did that,” you still mutter, staring at your own hand in amazement. 

“I knew you could,” Nia says, squeezing your arm in delight from behind you where she’s staying close.

But even as you celebrate, another drakna moves in, its buzzing filling your ears.

You throw up your hands, whether to shield yourself or blast them again even you don’t know- when a hand axe twirls through the air and slices the drakna’s head clean off. 

“Huh-” the flash goes by so fast you almost don’t clock what did it.

Imtura stands beside you, a huge grin on her face. “How many times am I gonna have to save you landrat?” She asks pleasantly.

“As many as you’d like,” you chuckle.

Tyril is a silent, deadly slice of air, felling at least half a dozen like a lethal shadow already. Between the four of you with Nia in the center, you’ve formed a ring of death.

The remaining drakna hover at the edge of the trees, buzzing angrily, but starting to wearily keep their distance…

“We make our stand here!” The boy in black proclaims, waving his sword around in a flash of gleaming metal.

“If we must fight, then we shall,” his brother reluctantly agrees, his hands curling up into fists as if ready to box the creatures to the last. 

The bugs don’t come any closer as the two young men ready themselves, standing either side of you like points on an inverted arrow. You can already see a plan forming in your head, how they’d draw them in-

But the monsters stare at you, their mandibles twitching. With an icy chill down your spine, you realize for the first time though, they’re not looking at you.

Your satchel is on Imtura.

Then as one, they turn and retreat into the forest.

“Yeah! You better run!” Mal cheers, waving a finger about as they go.

“The only good bug is a dead bug,” Imtura huffs, flinging goo from her horn in disgust. Then she hands your bag over to you wordlessly, and you gratefully slip it back over your head where it rests upon your shoulder without further ado, the familiar weight leaving you feeling centered and calm in the wake of that.

Tyril turns to you, clearly impressed. “You fought fiercely out there Syrum, quite the warrior with that bow.”

The praise makes you feel more light headed than the adrenaline rush slowly creeping out of your arms as you grin at him. What a morning! “Tell me something I don’t know,” you laugh wildly.

“Why did they all retreat like that?” Nia asks cautiously, still watching their forms. The buzzing of their wings can still be faintly heard if you listen for it.

“The drakna are a cautious species!” The new guy in red jumps forward eagerly, eyeing her with a brilliant smile as he answers in an excited cadence. “They never attack unless they’re certain they’ll win!” Something about the way he says it… like he’d read it somewhere…

“And we showed them we’re not one to mess with!” His brother says with a proud grin.

“Who are you two?” You ask in fascination, resisting the urge to reach over and feel their attire as it still gleams faintly in the low light, only a few threads really out of place to your shock.

“Are you serious? You don’t know?” The one in black has a disparaging voice as he eyes you up and down in a way you instantly recognize, and don't much appreciate. You sigh, shoulders slumping, resisting the urge to tip your face to the sky and ask why. You got enough of this from Tyril-

“Obviously not,” to your shock, it’s him who steps toward the human with a haughty frown of his own. “That’s why he asked.” Nobody does cold disinterest like him, and yet it gives your heart a twinge of joy to see his defense of you, your ignorance, for the first time.

“I don’t care what rock you crawled out from under, elf, you do not talk to me like that!” The guy, perhaps roughly your age if not closer to Mal’s, crosses his arms and sneers right back. He’s only a few inches taller than you, but you’d swear at least as tall as the trees the way he sniffs and holds his head high.

Tyril reaches for his blade, but the other kid jumps forward.

You blink in fascination if you were really about to see your friend lop the guy's crown off his head along with the rest of it attached just for that… and resist the urge to pull the boy in red out of the way, but no. That was maybe jumping the proverbial gun.

“Easy brother, they saved our lives,” the younger one puts a calming hand on his shoulder.

The snootier of the two sighs, then steps forward and puffs out his chest, brushing his brother aside impatiently. “Right. I am Prince Baldur Valleros, first of my name and heir to the Morella throne.” Well, that explained a lot, especially why Mal had already fallen to the back of your party with a look of almost loathing as he tucks his blade away, magical and otherwise. “And this pipsqueak is my little brother, Aerin,” he concludes with a dismissive wave of his hand. 

“Yup, that’s me,” he gives a sad little wave, eyes still sweeping over you, Tyril, and Imtura with great interest.

“You- your Highnesses!” Nia gasps, sweeping herself into a bow at once. “It’s an honor!” She then drops into a kneel before them… it’s not something you’ve ever seen before except once in your life, and you could almost laugh back on yourself doing the same to Threep... Though you always knew it was expected of you…

Then Mal makes a face, and grudgingly does the same. Your mouth actually falls open just a bit at the display from him.

“Right. Princes. My favorite,” he mutters under his breath, his words twisted and bitter. 

Imtura and Tyril however don’t move.

“You have no jurisdiction over us, especially not in elven territory,” Tyril remains his hostility, not having lessened one jot, and he’s stayed firmly in front of you.

“And orcs don’t bow.” Imtura scoffs at even the implication. “Especially not to soft little princelings,” she sneers at his bloodless sword still held casually at his side. 

There’s a moment of silence, and you feel the hair on the back of your neck tingle as all eyes land on you… the one raised with the humans. You know in theory you shouldn’t, to follow Tyril’s lead, but that’s not what really has you hesitating either.

… if Kade had been here you would have, just out of a moral obligation to your brother without question, anyone in Riverbend even… You almost feel the same instinct to do so for Mal’s sake if nothing else, it’s not as if you have any tie to Tyril as your ‘Lord’ or any other elvish way…

But you don’t. The moment passes, and you’ve crossed your arms, a firm feeling of obstinance for… something you’re only barely coming to terms with in yourself. You study the princes carefully instead for a reaction as you say, “you’re a long way from Whitetower, Your Highnesses.” There’s forced politeness in your tone at least to smooth over the situation.

Though truly, you already have even less respect for them than you did Ventra Tal Kaelen. This unimpressive fool was seriously lowering your already nonexistent standards of monarchy and leaders in general.

“It’s true,” Aerin sighs, looking longingly around. “But I’ve always longed to see the Deadwood for myself, a solemn reminder of the cost of hubris,” he manages a pitiful little laugh. 

“And that’s why you’re here?” You step beside Tyril, quirking a curious brow at Aerin, and still flashing a mistrustful look to his scowling brother as he clenches his hand around his sword, frustration radiating off of him. “To look at the devastation?”

Baldur quickly smooths out his face though and sheathes away his weapon at last. “We’re out here on a hunting expedition! I’m something of a collector of exotic beasts, you see, and rumor has it the biggest, most dangerous game in the kingdom is found in these woods!” He throws his arms wide as if expecting you all to oooh and ahhh on command. It’s vaguely sickening.

Tyril shoots him a glare so cold it could snuff out the sun. “You’re in these woods, voluntarily, to hunt?”

The thick little prince doesn’t bat an eye. “I’ve been after the drakna queen for some time. A worthy prize to bring home to the people of Whitetower!” His face shifts into his own anger though, laughable in the face of your friend really, but there all the same as he shoots his brother a look. “But while Aerin was supposed to be on guard for our caravan, we were overrun.”

“I did my duty brother,” he insists, shrinking back from him. “It’s not my fault.”

“We saw a caravan attacked further down the road,” you agree in surprise this at least was finally starting to come together. “Was that yours?”

“I’m afraid so,” Aerin groans. “Our companions were all killed by the drakna, as were our servants.”

Mal grumbles under his breath, “naturally, the smallfolk died while the princes ran away-”

“What was that?!” Baldur snaps, whirling around on him, hand back on his blade.

“Nothing,” Mal hasn’t raised his head yet, but you can hear that flippant smile back in his tone. “Your Highness, just clearing my throat is all.”

Anger burns through you, your firsts are clenched, but you know you shouldn’t interfere, directly anyways. Mal can handle himself at any rate. Your mind swivels back to that little voxper pup, and the master he mentioned as you step subtly between Baldur and Mal now. “Was one of your companions Lord Goffrey of Whitetower?”

“Indeed,” he levels you with an unimpressed scowl once more. “A drakna drove its stinger clear through his skull. What’s it to you?”

“Poor Goff,” Aerin sniffles, brushing at his eyes.

You ignore Baldur’s question as you feel the tight clench of your vow melt away with a lot less sorrow than you’d have anticipated. “How did you escape the drakna?” It takes all your self restraint not to smirk at him, having seen the tail end of how that ended all the same.

“I used one of my relics to distract them,” Aerin eagerly explains, and you smile much more fondly at him. “Bought us time to flee. Then I found a small burrow for us to hide in until most of them had left.”

“Pathetic,” Baldur spits out, glowering at his brother so harshly, you almost want to step in between them next at the animosity suddenly in the air as Aerin shrinks back. “Lying in the dirt like cowards while our friends were slaughtered.” … it was almost a valid point though…

“I thought we were clear of them, but after we emerged, a scout saw us, and they attacked again!” Aerin sighs meekly, shifting his weight around with glistening eyes. 

“And here we are!” Baldur concludes with a huff. “No men, no caravan, no supplies. Now then, who the hell are you lot, and what are you doing in the Deadwood?” He winds himself back up to his utmost superiority as his eyes scan between the five of you. 

You glance at your companions uneasily, are you really going to reveal your true mission to these princes? No one exactly leaps forward to do so. 

So you hitch a friendly smile in place, hoping it’s not half as sardonic as you felt it was to play this game. 

OR BOLAS OR

“We are lost, hopelessly lost,” you proclaim, looking frantically around as if just realizing where you were. “We were on our way to Whitetower, but we got lost and ended up here!”

“You’re, very far from Whitetower,” Aerin peers at you in confusion.

“We’re, very bad at directions,” you agree with a simpering smile. Tyril is giving you a stank eye you are actively ignoring. You would kick yourself later when he makes it clear he regrets defending you, but alas, you didn’t see anyone else coming up with any brilliant ideas.

“Hah!” Baldur laughs so hard he almost dislodges his crown. Almost. “Well, what do you expect from smallfolk, Aerin? They haven’t had our education. They haven’t sat through all those lessons on cartography.”

“You, slept through those lessons,” Aerin switches his frown between his brother and you now.

“Either way,” Baldur brushes his hand ariely, still laughing. “You’re in luck, now that you’re with us!”

“But, they still haven’t explained who they are or what they’re after-” Aerin tries to protest.

Mal mercifully steps forward at last, clearing his throat. It makes something in you release in relief to see him back to his natural charming self. “All right, cards on the table. We’re mercenaries.”

OR BOLAS OR

Before you can cobble anything together in your mind, Nia says, “we’re adventurers on a vital quest.” You shoot her an alarmed look, telling the truth to these guys didn’t feel high on your list of good options, but she’s smiling so sweetly as she talks to the earth, and you know it’s not an act. She’s truly overjoyed to be sharing this with them. “We’re on a mission of grave importance, seeking relics to save the world!”

… you suppose you shouldn’t stop her… you were going to need to get to Whitetower eventually and figure out how to get help…

“Oh, harhar,” Baldur scoffs at her with such derision, it makes your blood boil. “You had better not be fooling with me priestess, because I don’t like being mocked.”

“No, it’s true!” Nia says, looking up at him, and clearly floored at the scathing words. “We’re seeking the Onyx Shards to defeat the Shadow Court!”

“All right, now I know you’re messing with me,” his lip is twitching in an almost threatening way as he sneers at her, the exchange haunting you so much you stand frozen in place-

Mal mercifully steps forward at last, clearing his throat. “Yes, yes, just a joke. Our priestess, boy, she’s a real kidder!”

Nia gives Mal a hurt look, she’s clearly wounded as her eyes dart between the prince and him in utter confusion, but he steps forward with that familiar presence taking up center stage, blocking her from sight. “All right, cards on the table. We’re mercenaries.”

OR BOLAS OR

“We,” you begin grandly, giving the pair of them your most flattering smile that almost always got you a free biscuit. “Are so lucky we found you! We were so scared, lost in these woods until we ran into a pair of brave, strong princes like you.” You brush your hair behind your ear and then lean forward, letting the tips of your fingers pet Aeirn’s arm, and he flushes a deep scarlet. It glides under your fingertips like you were stroking water, shimmering a bit as the weaved fabric glimmers back. Gods but it was soft and pretty.

Imtura very poorly muffles a choking laugh, but Aerin’s eyes are only on you. “I, uh, would be, erm, most honored, to accompany you.” He stammers, red coloring his cheeks.

You can practically feel Mal rolling his eyes, while Imtura is not fighting down one bit of her laughter easily. You are going to wretch as your smile stays taught in place at Baldur next, who mercifully is even more dimwitted.

“Hmm, perhaps not who I would have chosen for myself, but I suppose one can’t be too picky in the Deadwood.” To your absolute horror, he takes the flattery even more personally and gives you a newly appraising look. “But you still haven’t explained what you were doing out here, perhaps you’d like to talk in private?”

“I-” horror slams into you at the implication, but before you can actually vomit, Mal mercifully steps forward at last, clearing his throat. It makes something in you release in relief to see him back to his natural ‘charming’ self. “All right, cards on the table. We’re mercenaries.”

Nia starts to sputter in confusion, and you shake your head quickly, gratefully falling back beside her with as little obvious haste as you can manage. 

“We’re in the employ of Lord Kelvin Gillbottle of Whitetower,” Mal’s still seamlessly going as smoothly as you had, if not one better. “You do know Lord Kelvin, I presume?”

“I- yes, yes of course,” Baldur says stiffly at once, frowning as if just remembering Mal existed.

“He had a delicate matter he needed taken care of,” Mal waves his hand flippantly. “Some compromising letters were stolen. He hired us to get the letters back, delicately.” He even claps a fond hand on your shoulder, and you resist the urge to bury yourself alive at the hole you dug for yourself as Mal finishes smoothly. “With the matter done, we were supposed to meet up with Goffrey of Whittower somewhere around here to trade for our reward.”

“Mercenaries you say?” Baldur takes the lot of you in again with vague understanding. “That means you can fight?”

… as if you hadn’t just saved his hide to be having this conversation?! How thick could one get?!

“Damn right,” Imtura’s finally swallowed that little fit of hers and says it with her usual pride. You resist the urge to slink behind her and never speak again honestly. 

“Then perhaps we may find ourselves in a mutually beneficial situation,” Baldur says with the kind of brilliant, self-made smirk of only one who has never had an original thought in his head can have. “Given that we lost most of our party and our gear, Aerin and I need to resupply at Undermount before we get back to the hunt. We could use some extra blades on the way there. If you’re willing, you'd be rewarded handsomely. What do you say?” He concludes with a grand gesture at the world at large.

You all trade a look with Mal, some more vexed than others (Tyril), but your thief dons an easy grin and is quick to play along. “Make it 20 gold each, and we’re in business.”

“20 gold?!” Baldur snaps, fingers itching back for his blade at once. “I’m a prince! I could order you if I wanted-”

“20 gold pieces each sounds more than reasonable,” Aerin smoothly cuts in. “We accept your offer.”

You blink in fascination at the pair of princes, still feeling a bit small and out of your element as you have only the vaguest of a concept what that amount of gold is really worth. A house? A kingdom? A good meal?

“Perfect!” Mal claps his hands together jovially. “Now if you don’t mind, we’ll just grab our things and be on our way.”

Leaving the two to collect themselves, you and your companions return to the lodge to collect the rest of your own belongings. 

“Mal!” Nia yelps, standing hesitantly in the entrance and looking from them to him. “What were you thinking, lying to the princes like that?”

“I’m sorry Priestess,” Mal says without a single sorry in his tone. “Should I have told them the truth? That we’re fugitives wanted for the murder of the mayor in Port Parnassus?”

You blink in surprise, honestly almost having forgotten about that in the storm of everything else that had followed. 

“Perhaps we can avoid the whole truth, but, these men are your monarchs. This conduct feels exploitative,” Tyril says a tad uneasily, looking more at Nia than Mal with his own sympathy for the position she was in.

“Yeah, it’s because we’re exploiting them,” Imtura snorts.

“She gets it,” Mal gives her an affectionate smile Imtura quickly returns. That is an entire other basket of jealousy to deal with much later.

You can’t help but side with Nia and Tyril here at the wrongness of it at minimum, if not the danger in the future. “Sooner or later Mal, they are going to find out you’re lying. I mean, what happens when they get back to Whitetower and talk to Lord Kelvin Gillbottle?” 

Mal gives you a look of pity. “That would imply that Lord Kelvin Gillbottle actually exists.”

“That, that’s even worse!” Nia gasps, her voice uncomfortably loud as your eyes dart unpleasantly past her. 

“Relax, would you?” Mal rolls his hand through the air like he’s hiding a card up his sleeve. “By the time the fancypants brothers make it back to Whitetower, we’ll be long gone, our pockets heavy with gold!”

“And what of honor and decency? Do you not care about that?” Tyril asks with frost in his tone.

“I’m honorable to those who honor me, Blue,” Mal gives him a wink. “And you’d better believe that nobles like that would string me up in a heartbeat if they knew who I really was.”

That is uncomfortably true, and you frown anxiously at Mal, wondering vaguely if you should start calling him a false name or something for the duration of this trip. Gartho would suit him well.

But he’s already got his bag back on his shoulder and is looking to get back on the road with one last roll of his eyes at all of you. He knows what he’s doing.

You feel an unpleasant prickling sensation as you remember the blade he’s carrying too, and the vow you’d made to that voxper. He was dead, you firmly chastise yourself. Vow done! Nothing you can do about it now… unless this Goffrey did have family at Whitetower of course. Then you’d be happy to finish this!

 Besides, that Baldur certainly doesn’t deserve it! You sigh loudly before the two of them can escalate into an argument. “Either way, the deal’s already been made. Let’s pack our bags and hope it works.” You pause, and look around, feeling like you’re forgetting something… “Hey, has anyone seen Threep?” You ask blankly as you look at the empty fireplace.

“Here,” he calls from underneath a bed in one of the far off rooms. “Are those bugs gone?”

…

The seven of you begin the next leg of your journey through the Deadwood, you walking beside Nia behind the rest of the group. When you’re out of earshot, Threep pokes his head out of the bag. “I suppose this little ruse with the princes means I must stay in here?” He grumbles like a kid in timeout. 

“Sorry,” you croon gently, scratching his head. “It’s to keep us safe. Hopefully it won’t last much longer.”

He huffs but burrows himself back inside Nia’s pack, with her sighing right along with him. She looks around at the trees, her expression lingering sadness and thoughtfulness. “It’s so strange,” she murmurs, “if you look just right, you can almost see how beautiful these woods must have been once.”

“Not just beautiful,” Tyril agrees, easily overhearing and glancing back at the pair of you without missing a step. “Marvelous and magical. The most sacred and glorious place in the world. Lost now, to shadow and ruin.” The sadness in his voice is so familiar to you by now, you wonder if he’s carried it all his life.

“That’s just terrible,” Aerin says, walking rather closer to you than you’d expect as he begins slowing his tread.

You peer into the thick of the dead trees, their branches twisted against an eerie sky still. “These woods can be redeemed,” you say with fervent hope, brushing your hand over a trunk as you pass. “If they were beautiful once, then they can be made beautiful again.”

“Do you really think that’s possible?” Aerin asks you with wide-eyed hope.

“I do,” you agree, smiling back.

“Then I do as well!” Nia beams. “And I’m happy to contribute in whatever way I can!”

Aerin clears his throat at those words and glances on ahead in a very unsubtle fashion. “I would like to apologize for my brother, he’s a little-”

“Despicable?” Tyril happily offers with his usual grace.

“I’d be lying if I said this was the first time I’d heard that,” Aerin actually laughs in agreement.

“At least Mal’s taking him off our hands for now,” Imtura chuckles.

Up ahead, Baldur walks with Mal, a hand clasped around Mal’s shoulder. “So there I am, in the middle of the slums, drunk as a devil, trousers around my ankles, and all the slum girls are staring at me like, well, you know how they’re staring, am I right?”

Mal forces a smile, but as Baldur prattles on, he turns to look at the rest of you, mouthing forlornly, “help me.”

You honestly wish you could, no grievance he’s ever given you really deserved such a punishment, but honestly, you were a little traumatized to go back near Baldur any time soon. 

Besides, your pity doesn’t lie just with your friend as you look from Baldur, to Aerin. “Is your brother always like this?” You truly can barely wrap your head around them. You knew of course not all siblings were as close as you and Kade, there had been plenty in the village who couldn’t stand to be in the same room… but still, it was surprisingly brutal to you to see after being apart from him for so long now.

“Oh no,” Aerin says pleasantly, “usually he’s far worse.”

Tyril sighs, and somehow or another, decides to take pity on the situation. He goes up and says something to the pair, and then drags Mal off up ahead, but whatever they’re doing couldn’t be as bad as what they were leaving behind as Baldur calls after them he’d keep watch here and pompously marches on.

                “I could have gotten out of that myself you know,” Mal tells him, holding a branch out of his way now that they were far enough ahead, they really might as well scout around.

“Oh, I’m so sure.” Tyril says without batting an eye. “You have exactly one skill, and it’s driving people to insanity. I think we’ve enough problems in this accursed forest without subjecting some human prince to that.”

“I was just seeing which of my so called friends was going to come to my rescue,” Mal continued blithely as if there had been no response. “Kit’s got that little kid back around him five seconds and he’s already abandoning me, the traitor.”

“I’m sure Aerin will be a great influence on him,” Tyril agrees beneath the sarcasm, walking lightly past the branch at last with a nod of thanks. There’s a long moment of silence, before Tyril finally asks of him, “tell me something. Syrum speaks often of his human brother, but not of the rest of his town. He’s said they treated him fairly, but, I must wonder at how he truly views other humans, considering what just happened with his princes.”

“His princes, I wouldn’t say that for certain,” Mal snorts. “You expected him to bow too,” Mal nods in agreement. “Yeah, kind of surprised me too, should have seen those kids when they met Threep.”

Tyril just walks beside him in silence until Mal grumbles but answers with a shrug, “far as I can tell they were decent to him. You remember the two he mentioned who died at the Temple before they found me again, well I asked Grenn what the heck an elf kid was doing in their village walking and talking like them. She told me the same story he’s told you, that flood, poof, shiny new orphan.” There had been a part of him, a very small ignorable part there's no telling if he would have acted on anymore, to go back and offer the kit a trip to Undermount. Just to see if he'd do it. No telling how that would have turned out now, he laughed at himself. 

Mal can feel the anger radiating off of him by the end, and blinks at him strangely. “What? You think he’s hiding some deep horror story about a po-dunk place like Riverbend giving him lashings in the street?”

“Not, exactly,” Tyril’s posture looks painfully straight, the way he angles himself not to look at Mal as they walk together.

“Well, spit it out then,” Mal sniffs.

Tyril sighs, and does not ‘spit it out,’ thank you. His tone is still more rough than he usually allows though. “It angers me to see him so, ignorant. I have never been around someone like him, who walks and talks like a human so often."

"Well I'm pretty grateful for it," Mal smirks. "Nice to meet someone like him who doesn't walk around with a stick up his ass. Maybe a few of you elves could take a lesson or two from him. Don't try to change him now, gods forbid."

Tyril easily ignores the interruption, trying to explain himself, the anger he didn't mean to keep showing to Syrum. "I don’t know how to- and well, I blame that town of his. Not a one of those people considered returning him to Undermount?”

Mal’s laugh was deeply unfunny. “Shows how much you know of a little place like Riverbend. I guarantee you the thought never crossed their mind. The farthest any of those people had ever been from their little huts in the mud was Port Parnassus before I showed up, and that’s a good few days by wagon to trade goods and go back home.”

“They knew some elvish, they named him as such, they had to know Undermount existed-”

“Oh, I’m sure they did,” Mal nods in vague agreement. “That old lady who nursed the boys apparently had an elf friend in her youth and everything, they knew you existed! No, I mean they were as likely to make that kind of journey as you would to hold Baldur and Aerin’s hand back to their kingly daddy rather than leave them in this forest.”

“It’s not the same, those boys came out here of their own volition-”

“Look, Tyril, I’m just saying, don’t take it out on those people anymore than you would Syrum. I know people like that, they did the best they could for him, hell, better than a lot of kids like him got in this world. It’s nobody’s fault. Bad shit happens. You roll with the punches or you stay down. That kid’s still rolling, and he’s damn good at it.” Mal sighs, looking at him with a strange smile. 

“Roll with the punches,” he repeats back strangely. “Yes, very well. I take your meaning.” He pauses suddenly, head tipped to the side, frowning. “I sense something.”

                “But, you’re okay for a princling!” Imtura says, frowning between the pair as strangely as he keeps eyeing her. “How in the seas did he turn out like, that?”

You wonder if she sees any of herself in Baldur and how she might turn out if she follows her mothers wishes.

Aerin heaves a sigh, as if this were not the first time he’d answered this question. “All his life, Baldur’s been told he’s destined for the crown. He acts as though he’s invincible, because he is. It’s not just that he’s the oldest. He’s also the favorite. Handsome, bold, outgoing, a great hunter and a warrior… nothing like me,” he finishes in a small voice.

You hate to see him so low on himself. You willingly admit to yourself you’re projecting as you stare at this little brother, bookish and a little squirrely, but obviously has a good heart. “Hey, you should be glad you won’t be king,” you offer with a friendly nudge and a wink at Imtura.

“I suppose there’s a relief in not dealing with the burdens of power,” Aerin gives you a strange, restless shrug. “At worst, I’ll end up on his council as one of the many advisers he won’t listen to,” he admits to himself cheerfully though.

“How, reassuring,” you sort of want to laugh, but honestly that’s a depressing thought all its own.

“I’ll do what I can to keep him from harming the kingdom too much,” Aerin insists with a playful grin at you. “And at least I’ll have my books. I love reading of all the realms, even if I rarely get the chance to visit them!”

Your laugh sounds a bit hollow, but you hope he doesn’t notice as you squeeze the strap of your bag. Oh gods, the stories you could tell of how the world really was… but that pain only lodges deep in your heart as you firmly remind yourself better start getting some story straight. Kade’s not going to rest until he hears it all one day.

You march on, the path growing steeper as it winds into the mountains that conceal the elven city. But as you round a corner, Tyril throws up a hand. “Wait. I sense something up ahead.” He and Mal have stayed up at the front, just out of sight before this. Now, you all come upon him brushing aside thick leaves of a path, revealing-

His gasp is sharp enough to know you were certainly looking at something more impressive than another crumbling old house. “It’s a temple of the Old Gods!” Tyril murmurs in reverence. “This is ancient, from before the Great War!”

“Looks like a bunch of broken rocks to me,” Baldur scoffs. 

“Hardly brother,” Aerin shakes his head, tapping his chin with interest. “It’s clearly a historical relic. Who knows what lays preserved in there!”

“I can sense power inside,” Nia says with awe of her own, holding her hand out with interest towards the place. “I think it’s the Light calling to me…”

Well that sort of creeped you out after you found out it also had a tendency to drain her like a bloodsquid.

“I would like to explore these ruins,” Tyril said succinctly, little room in his voice for argument. “There may be something of great value inside.”

“I’ll go with you!” Nia says in excitement. “I’ve always dreamed of seeing a temple like this!” You can’t help but give her a side-look at the last temple the two of you had been in together, but she just gives you a brilliant smile.

Mal snorts. “Now who wants to wander off!” Before Tyril can even give him his level-best glare, Mal’s already raising his hands in surrender. “Fine, I suppose the rest of us could use a chance to rest.”

“Will you accompany us Syrum?” Tyril turns away from him, and you're floored at the invitation as he meets your eyes. “This is just as much for you. We could always use another set of eyes on our search as well.”

“Y-yeah!” You stutter without hesitation. “Let’s do it! I am in, let us check this place out!”

He smiles, and you smile back, pathetically glad you don’t have a tail right now at the excitement coursing through you. “Have fun!” Imtura calls to your retreating forms, throwing herself onto the ground and stretching out.

You only glance back once out of pity to see Baldur sidling back up to Mal for another chat… but you’re pretty sure they all won’t kill each other until you get back…

The three of you approach the temple. It’s a worn down ruin, overgrown in pulsing ivy, but even here, you can sense its ancient majesty, an electric tingle of dormant power. “This old temple’s in pretty bad shape, do either of you see a way in?” You ask, eyeing the pile of, dare you agree with Baldur, nothing but old rubble, broken rocks, and boulders as you get closer. You’re still not even sure what about it drew Tyril’s attention to begin with.

“It looks like there are two possible entrances, but they’re both partially collapsed. I’ll check out the front entrance,” Tyril says.

“I've got the one on the right!” Nia says brightly. “Syrum?”

OR BOLAS OR

You blink, and glance uneasily at the two. “You’re sure you should be going off alone Nia?” You can’t help but ask in concern. Any manner of things could happen to her…

“Well I wouldn’t be going alone if you came with me now would I?” She laughs, already turning away whether you agreed or not.

You give Tyril an apologetic smile and gesture to her retreating form. He nods in agreement, probably best to keep an eye on her. “Good plan, you two should stick together.” Without another word, he leaps gracefully down the crumbling stones leading to the front entrance.

 Nia smiles at you. “I can feel that there’s something special here, it’s almost calling to me.”

Yeah, that’s still a little creepy, but you grin at her all the same because this really was her kind of thing. “Then let’s go find it.”

You and Nia enter the ruin and make your way through a crumbling passageway that you both can just barely squeeze through. How did the two of you keep ending up in these situations? “So, this palace is really two thousand years old?” You prompt, eyeing every crevice of the walls of this land with at least the vague interest your past felt was due.

Nia’s gazing around awestruck. “I don’t know, I’ve never been in a place like this-”

There’s a loud cracking noise from above, and some chunks of masonry break off and plummet right towards her!

Swiftly you lunge, tackling her out of the way, the two of you stumbling and falling down against the wall farther into the passageway as the rocks cascade in a hail of death. “Oh, Syrum! You saved me,” she gasps, heart rattling in her chest as she clings tightly to you and peers around in a sadly familiar look of horror.

“It was nothing,” you smile reluctantly, your own heart can’t stop shaking if she’d come down here alone. “Quick reflexes.”

She lingers close, smiling into your eyes, but then sheepishly looks away, ducking out of your arms and clearing her throat. “I guess we should be a little more careful going forward.”

With a pang of guilt, you vaguely still wonder about that dance you’d shared so long ago… gods you hope she didn’t have a crush on you you couldn’t reciprocate. 

As she picks her way over the fallen rocks, she steeples her fingers and releases a handful of small golden lights. 

“How much of your life did you lose just now for that?” You can’t help but blurt out. 

“Not much,” she’s still casually insisting, still as quick to smile as ever. “Believe me Syrum, I’ve trained to maximize the impact of my Light. And it feels right to use it to help.”

You take a deep breath, shaking your head. “I do believe you, of course. I’m sorry. You’re really special, you know that Nia?”

“You certainly make me feel that way,” she giggles with a shy smile at you, then gasps as she sees a room that the falling rocks revealed now in full view from her little orbs.

You’re almost relieved to have her scamper away for a moment without a glance back as you stand rooted to the spot in misery of no way to respond to that, your lips tingling as you remember your previous night with Imtura… and you just can’t do it. Can’t picture Nia’s soft, slim body giving you the same feeling you craved right now-

“Syrum! Get in here, look at this!”

Ducking inside, you see her standing in fascination in front of an altar covered in ancient, half-melted candles before you. There’s enormous statues as tall as the ceiling in different poses at each corner of the wide open room as large and grand nearly the size of Riverbend itself. Steps lead down to a pit in the middle that is empty. All along the walls are tables and chairs of solid gold.

“This must be the inner sanctum of the temple!” Nia’s all but gasping in delight. You’ve never seen her eyes so greedy to take in every crevice of the place at once.

“I’ll light the rest of the candles,” you swiftly offer, already seeing her eyes on those braziers. “I’ve got flint and steel, you save your Light.” As you reach in your pack, Nia takes another step in all the same-  Just then, a warm, gentle breeze comes from out of nowhere. 

As it passes through Nia, she glimmers with a brief golden aura. It fades as quickly as the breeze, but the candles and torches in the sanctum suddenly flicker to life. 

… “Did you do that?!” You yelp, but a part of you already knows the answer. You’d felt what her magic was like personally.

“No, I didn’t do anything!” She yelps right back. “It just, felt like, it felt like the temple recognized me. Like it was saying, hello.”

“The Light must still be so strong here that it reacted to the Light you emanate,” you gasp right along with her at the magic in this world, this room, coming right off of her.

“I can’t believe it,” she looks near tears of joy. “In the middle of these woods, where the Light is so weak, there are still pockets where it shines as radiantly as ever before!”

“Let’s just hope that the sentient temple doesn't mean us any harm,” you can’t help but rain on her parade, but well, you’ve had some pretty mixed experiences with magic lately. 

“I have a good feeling that the temple’s friendly,” she giggles. “But even if it wasn’t, I know you’d protect me. I, I always feel so safe around you Syrum.”

Your heart melts at that. “I always feel safe around you too Nia. You really do mean so much to me, I’ve never had, friends, before. Kade and me, you know, we were all each other had for so long. I’ll do anything to keep you safe.”

Her smile lights her up from within as if a spell all it’s own, and she throws her arms around you in a tight hug. “I guess that means you intend to stick around for a while?”

You laugh in surprise, and hug her back tight. Whatever had made her think otherwise? “I’m here whenever you need me, as long as you want. I’ll protect you from whatever I have to.”

She presses her face tight into your shoulder for a moment with a ragged breath before pulling back. “Thank you. I feel stronger every day I’m with you, you always chase away any doubts there are to have.” An echo of that golden aura in the room lingers around her, making your breath catch in wonder at her beauty.

But she steps out of your arms now without any more hesitation, smiling just to smile as usual now. “We should try to find Tyril, show him this place.”

“Of course,” you agree, looking all around. “He’ll go crazy seeing this, he might even smile if we’re lucky.”

Nia giggles in agreement, and as if summoned out of the shadows, Tyril’s padding his way inside, a smile indeed on the corner of his lips as he sees the two of you. “Glad I found you, my way was a dead end. What-”

But he stops, and stares. You’ve never seen such a wild look of awe pass over him as his eyes take in every corner of the room.

OR BOLAS OR

You blink, and glance uneasily at the two. “You’re sure you should be going off alone Nia?” You can’t help but ask in concern. Any manner of things could happen to her…

She puffs out a bit of air and gives you a pout. “I’m perfectly capable you know! I don’t need a babysitter!”

“I-” you break off and wince. “Okay, yeah, I apologize. Shout, if, you need us? I will, go check out the front with Tyril, I know you’ve got whatever you find.”

“I will. Let me know if you two find anything interesting!” She gives you a smile and skips off. It hurts to see her go off alone… but you admit to yourself it’s not fair not to trust her if she says otherwise… past evidence to the contrary…

“She’ll be fine,” Tyril promises, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. “She has more training than you at sensing the powers in this place.”

“Right,” you mutter with a wince, quickly looking away. Who’s the idiot who needed a babysitter now?

“I-” Tyril drops his hands, and for the first time, looks truly awkward. “I didn’t mean mean it like that, Syrum, I-”

“Come on, we’ve got ruins to explore,” you remind not unkindly but more than happy to change the subject as you head towards the slim bit of a gap he’d called an entrance at the front.

He follows you through, and the two of you make your way side by side through the crumbling passageway. It’s surprisingly open in here, wide arches lining the corridor. You feel humbled and deeply in love with everything your eyes land on, taking it all in at least three times as you slowly walk on to the next thing. Tyril waits patiently, moving at your pace, taking it in as equally as you, if not as slack jawed when you catch sight of him on your slow revolving steps.

You can’t help but stare at the scenery before you, the tragic ruins and the haunting beauty of a place long abandoned as your eyes wander between him and those patterns you can barely discern in the dust. “So, this place is really two thousand years old?” You murmur.

Tyril runs a hand along a wall, his fingertips coming back coated in dust. “Possibly older. It-” he freezes at a loud cracking noise from above, and some chunks of masonry break off and plummet right towards him as he looks everywhere else for the threat.

Swiftly you lunge, tackling him out of the way, the two of you stumbling and falling down against the wall farther into the passageway as the rocks cascade in a hail of death.

“What-” 

Tyril is overwhelmed, snatching you close, throwing his armored arm over your head and apparently still processing what had just happened as the rocks finish their crash to the ground where he had just been standing a moment ago with a look of shock.

“Ah. I see.” He says in a soft, clipped voice, same as ever. If not for the tense strain in his neck you were pressed against, you wouldn’t have known he was phased at all.

“You okay?” You ask, pulling back, peeking up at him. “Wouldn’t want any rocks messing up your noble visage.” You grin.

He nods gravely and lingers a moment in your arms before cleaning his throat and pulling away, but giving you an unmistakable look. “Thank you, Syrum. It appears you, ah, rescued me. You didn’t have to do that.” He concludes with an odd frown. Not at you. At himself, for needing you.

You fight back a smile. “Tyril, you’re just going to have to get used to the idea of people caring about you.”

The severity of his words shocks you as he all but hurls back, “you would do well to keep your distance. I avoid attachments for a reason.”

You flinch and step quickly as far back as you can. Regret floods his face. He opens his mouth, but you’re already turning away, refusing to let yourself brush at the lingering dust in the air that was making your throat tight. Yeah, he’d made that pretty clear who he selected could be close to him and you obviously didn’t qualify-

“Syrum,” he grasps your shoulder, halting you with that one touch. You sigh and resist the urge to jerk your shoulder away. What else could he possibly want? “I-” but before he can say anything else, his eyes catch on what he spots beyond the wall that had just caved in. “Syrum! Look at this, it’s the inner sanctum of the temple! It’s almost perfectly intact!”

He’s scrambling inside, now leaving you as the one to blink at what just happened as he darts off. You follow without hesitation and enter a room lit up by slanting sunbeams breaking through holes in the ceiling. An altar covered in ancient, half-melted candles stands before you. There’s enormous statues as tall as the ceiling in different poses at each corner of the wide open room as large and grand nearly the size of Riverbend itself. Steps lead down to a pit in the middle that is empty. All along the walls are tables and chairs of solid gold.

“This is incredible.” He gasps, the same deep love Nia still carries in herself for the Light now prevalent in him. “I wonder if…” he trails off and makes a hand gesture. A dozen tiny globules of fire fan out from his fingertips, hovering in the air before alighting on the wicks of the candles on the altar. 

“It’s beautiful,” you gasp, your hands buzzing with energy and your own fire to see such a display. “It’s like this place was never abandoned!”

“Some never abandoned the Old Gods,” he agreed, and from the weight he carries in those words, you finally suspect you know where he stands on that. “I’m gratified to find a place that holds their memory.”

You glance curiously at the orbs of light he created and back at him though. “What is it about our magic and Nia’s that’s so different exactly? Because we live longer? Won’t you shave down your life to under a hundred years if you keep doing that?”

His eyes settle on you with that patient, but zealous tutelage of last night as he firmly instructs, “we teach our magic so as to use as little of our life force as possible each time, to maximize its effect and pull from very specific aspects of our self. It is something we are made to understand as soon as we can form constructs of thought Syrum. Nia, whoever taught her, they-” he stops, and harshly clears his throat this time. “It is not my place to undermine her way of life. My point is, you would do well to consider this going forward, they are not the same way of doing things.”

“Yeah, I got that,” you assure, casting your eyes back around for a change of subject. You’re still not even sure where you sit on the issue.

OR BOLAS OR

You look from the deep love on his face as he continues taking in the room, follow his line of sight… and can’t really grasp what it is he’s seeing besides a big room full of stuff. “Tyril, you never said why you avoid attachments.”

“I have a mission. That comes first,” he says, stiff, crossing his arms, now looking deliberately away from you more than at the room. 

“Yes, but we’re on this mission together now. I’m here with you.” You feel like a dick reminding him of this, but a part of you does constantly wonder if he’s surprised you’re even still there when he looks over just to make sure your satchel is still present. “Like it or not, you have attachments. And you don’t have to be alone.”

“Maybe it would be better if I was,” he still says with billigrance… but there’s a sadness to his eyes, gentling his words so he doesn’t sound like a complete dick himself as he does glance at you. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned about evil, it’s that it will use your connections against you. Caring is a liability in this fight.”

“Do you really believe that?” You ask with a deep, sad frown at his view of the world you no longer really want to understand.

“I know it to be true,” he says bluntly, but his own frown in place. “And in case you were wondering, no, I don’t care to elaborate. Not yet.”

“Of course. I don’t mean to pry,” you say hastily. 

He turns away, but you hear him speak softly, almost a whisper. “Thank you for asking.” He grants you a sincere smile when he looks back, more relaxed than you’ve ever seen him. “I’m glad I got to discover such a special place, with you.”

OR BOLAS OR

You look from the deep love on his face as he continues taking in the room, follow his line of sight… and can’t really grasp what it is he’s seeing besides a big room full of stuff. “It’s nice to see you look happy.”

He blinks, and stares around at you with a renewed frown as if he’d forgotten you were there, what just happened. “Oh, ah, is that so unexpected?”

Something about his truly baffled expression puts you more at ease as you smile and shrug. “Brooding is kind of your style. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, I’ve had my fair share. But, you’ve got a nice smile, and you deserve moments of happiness.”

Something in him eases, melts, as he gives you that lingering smile in full bright light. “Maybe I’ll have more of those moments. If you’re here to remind me.”

Gods being friends with him was like whiplash. But there’s a deep sincerity in his tone, he really does mean it. “Every chance I get,” you promise. 

He grants you another sincere smile, more relaxed than you've ever seen him. “I’m glad I got to discover such a special place, with you.”

“Yeah?” You ask in surprise. “This is a pretty prefect moment. Two elves, digging up ancient elf secrets.”

“Exactly,” he agrees, and something sturdier returns to his face, settling him back into that cautious man you’ve grown so used to seeing, but his smile does linger. “Syrum, I do not mean to be so harsh with you. I understand you are, well, that I am…”

You just watch him with a miserable pit in your stomach as he trails off awkwardly, his hands clearly wishing to fidget for his sword, but not finishing the motion. He was too controlled to do something like fidget. You’re well aware what he’s apologizing for, but you can’t help him out anymore than you can bring yourself to apologize for it yourself. “It’s fine,” you try to brush off. “I get it-”

“It’s not fine,” Tyril says hastily. “You’ve been through a great ordeal Syrum, since your birth, and I haven’t exactly lived up to my promise, my vow I gave you I’d try to help. I have not, intentionally, been making this whole, situation we’ve found ourselves in, harder on you. I- I merely-”

“It’s not your responsibility to hold my hand,” you briskly insist, cutting your eyes awkwardly to a beautiful plush rug and back, shifting your weight awkwardly and wishing for him to drop it. You’d never have his elfine control of not being able to fidget… it was the human in you. “It’s fine. I’m fine. I’ll get Kade back and go back to Riverbend and we won’t be each other's problem anymore.”

“But I don’t-” Tyril stops himself though, and sighs. There’s a lot packed into that sigh. Whatever set him out away from Undermount, whatever caused him to be, like this… it ate at him every day as much as your brother's absence did to you. Who were you to judge if he needed some space and didn’t want to foster you under his wing every step of the way?

Before you could insist you’re fine, again, and then mentally smack yourself for repeating yourself too much, Tyril squares his shoulders and says firmly, “I, would like to consider us friends, Syrum, at least. Whatever the outcome at the end of this journey is, you have earned my respect ten fold. You are a man of your word, you are kind. I am honored to be doing this with you… two elves, saving the world, and digging up ancient elf secrets,” he tries to smile, but stops and coughs awkwardly. “Plus others, I mean, of course Imtura and Nia and Mal are vital, well, Mal is a bit-”

You can’t help but snort and burst out laughing amid your glowing pride for his words. He grins faintly in return. “I consider us friends too,” you quickly agree. “Plus others.” You can’t help but add on with a lingering grin, one he gratefully returns. “Speaking of, I do hope Nia is okay.” It’s an obvious change of subject, but one he readily agrees with as he nods and looks around.

“Absolutely. I may disapprove of how freely she expands her Light, but she may be the only other one who understands and appreciates what this palace represents to me.”

“She’s gonna love this,” you agree, already perfectly imagining her lurid pink dress darting around like a child exclaiming her new present to the whole town. 

Together, you both shout her name in hopes she’s close enough to hear… and your answer is a joyful cry back. Before you know it, you hear her rapid footsteps, and you can tell by their pat-pat she’s running towards you, not away from something by her sheer presence of radiance she always carries with her when she’s happy. When she shortly joins you by rounding the corner past the rocks with not even a second later, she’s marveling at the room right along with you both.

“This place is incredible!” Tyril was right on the money at her gasping for every little thing. “I can’t believe it’s still so intact! The other passage led to a dead end!”

“Tyril thinks it’s the inner sanctum of the temple. Imagine what it used to look like in its prime,” you agree with their excitement on principle at least, still struggling to imagine a room full of elves at all, let alone them bustling around about gods you could barely remember the name of unless you were really concentrating.

Nia’s pack wiggles, and Threep emerges, yawning wide. He blinks sleepily. “Are the princes gone yet? I feel a strange energy…” he gasps, his ears perking up, his eyes wide saucers of delight. “Where in the world have you taken me?”

“Oh, you know. Hidden ruins unsullied by the sands of time. Just the regular for us,” you grin.

“I’d like to think the Light protected this room from crumbling,” Nia says in wonderment, she can’t seem to stop herself moving with joy from one object to the next. She now has a little companion as invigorated as she is at her hip, not to mention Tyril’s proud smile upon her every step. “It just shows you can find the Light anywhere if you look!”

“It certainly used to be that way,” something of Tyril’s frown makes a reappearance, making him seem as ancient as that old golden plate the torches are gleaming off of. “Light flowed through the world as freely as the air we breathe.” He traces his hands along the wall, and Threep flutters onto his shoulder. Now there was a sight you surprisingly hadn’t seen yet. A solemness falls around the two of them. 

You can see elegant murals painted across the walls, dazzling scenes of elves long-gone, dancing in the light. Much like your new bow, if you stare at them and blink it almost appears as if they’re really moving.

“In the days before the Great War, the elves lived in majesty and wonder, a glorious civilization that spanned the world.” Tyril’s voice is an ancient wonder, the kind of weight even Kade’s could never hold for telling a story that had such personal stakes.

“I remember,” Threep whispers in solemn agreement. “Their cities reached into the skies. Their gardens grew wide as forests.”

“They lived peacefully, at one with the magic that flows through us all.” Tyril says with the harsh finality of the world you currently knew, his resentment for a world he’d never known evident.

“And then the Shadow Court came,” you can’t help but echo, your sense of deja vu weighing on you as heavy as your satchel as if you were still laughing along with Kade… but no more of that would be happening any time soon. Not with this ‘story.’

“A dozen elves, and they doomed us all,” Tyril said so bitterly, it was a wonder frost wasn’t upon his breath. “A secret council of powerful mages who sought forbidden power, mastery over life and death itself. In pursuit of this power, they cut a hole in reality itself, and found another world beyond. The Realm of Shadow. A place of darkness and monsters, ruled over by an unfathomable ancient evil…”

“The Dreadlord…” Nia finishes for him this time, your voice, your memories too thick to manage it, as if he’d needed the assistance from the both of you at all. You wonder if he thinks you don’t know the story, if this is for you, or himself, to never forget.

“The creatures of shadow invaded our world, and thus began the Great War, a war that spanned a century, that drenched the world in blood.” His hand is a fist now resting upon the mural.

“How did it end?” You ask, a flutter of amazement maring your words at a new detail you can’t quite strangle from your words. This was the part Kade always used to laugh, and make up… or you’d been thrown out of the bar long before now of course. “How did they win the first time?”

“No one knows,” Tyril sighs, his hand smoothing out to run the tips of his fingers over the wall, pressing his palm in tight as if trying to peel answers from the earth. “That story is lost to history. All we know is that the council of elves made one last heroic stand on the Field of Talenor. When the battle was done, the Realm of Shadow was sealed, and the denizens of the Shadow Court with it. And the elven civilization was destroyed.”

You shiver, unable to decide if that was tragic… or inspiring. You try your best to articulate both concepts. 

OR BOLAS OR

“That’s so, tragic,” you whisper for the story that had never been more than just a story for so long in your life… you can’t even remember the first time you’d heard it anymore it was just, so, common. 

“Indeed,” Threep murmurs, wings drooping as much as his ears, his tail, he’s never looked so small since you first found him. 

“A tragedy carved deep in the bones of our people.” Tyril agrees. “Even now, two thousand years later, that loss, that destruction, is a weight we carry on our shoulders every single day.” The way he slipped into the plural was probably natural to him. The way you wonder with guilt if that was the great distance between you two is something to dissect for another day as you, don’t. You'd always known yourself as an outsider among humans… but you didn’t suddenly, intrinsically feel responsible either for some doomed planet you had once ignorantly lived happily in.

Tyril looks around the great chamber, and for a moment it feels like he’s far away from you… and then he shakes his head clear. 

OR BOLAS OR

“That’s so, inspiring,” you try to somehow explain, knowing instantly the two think your nuts, and you don’t care. “In the face of insurmountable evil and darkness, the ancient elves stood strong and won. I find hope in that.”

“No matter the darkness, the Light always finds a way through,” Nia gets it, of course. She steps up beside you and threads her arm through yours with the same smile as always for sharing in that hope with you.

Tyril pauses, then nods. “It does.”

“It must,” Threep echoes.

Tyril looks around the great chamber, and for a moment it feels like he’s far away from you… and then he shakes his head clear. “Now then, we should probably get back.” He trails off as his hand stops on a stone slab. He stares at it for a moment thoughtfully. 

“What is it?” Threep peers curiously down from his shoulder. 

“These words, written in the ancient tongue…” he pauses and mouths them to himself for a moment before saying, “ IIdar dravulis, mitar mordala?”

And as he speaks, the stone pops open, revealing a hidden compartment. “Whoa!” You yelp, starling automatically, unsure whether to run for your life or towards Tyril for another rescue.

“It meant, ‘The Worthy Shall Find Their Gift Within’?” He doesn’t seem to believe his own tongue, he hasn’t moved.

“So? What’s inside?” Nia asks, already leaning forward eagerly to see.

He reaches in and removes a small orb, pulsing with dazzling white light. It fits snugly in the palm of his hand, and seems to swirl with something ancient trapped within… wind, or fog, moving sluggish, but noticeably.

You cringe and resist the urge to slap him, or the orb away at Tyril touching that with his bare hand. “What is it?” You ask, only stopping yourself from the look of yearning in Tyril’s eyes as he cups it closer with both hands, trembling the tiniest bit. 

“It, can’t be…” Threep gasps, wings jutting out to slap you for him. Tyril doesn’t even seem to notice as the nesper repositions himself in excitement with a little trill.

“A Sphere of Dan’taelyn. A weapon of the old war… incredibly powerful…” Tyril’s eyes might fall out of his head soon. You’re just grateful he’s translating enough to keep up with their shock and awe.

“There’s a storm of pure magic raging inside there!” Nia gasps, nearly pressing her nose against the glass eagerly.

“Do you want it?” He asks her, his fingers flexing over the little ball, but holding it towards her respectfully. You have no idea of the significance of the gesture, but smile all the same at how much he’d truly meant it before. He did respect all of your friends equally, you’d always known that.

“No,” Nia bites her lip, but shakes her head at once. “You’d better hold onto it. You know how to use battle magic better than I do.”

Tyril nods and slides the orb carefully into his satchel. 

“Do you think the temple wanted us to find it?” You ask, gazing around at that hole in the wall again with a raised brow. This day had gone pretty perfectly…

“I do now,” Tyril says with a winning smile at you.

“Undoubtedly!” Threep agrees, his wings still fluttering with excitement. He takes off and lands back in Nia’s arms, only to burrow back out of sight with happy little trills as if all this had been more than enough for a catnap. Together, you make your way out of the temple.

“Hey Tyril,” you say as you hear the others and give him a grin, you can’t shake the elated mood you now all carried, and you hope he doesn’t want to either. “Look at that, not a drop of blood in sight.” You spread your arms wide to prove your point.

To your astonishment, he throws his head back and laughs. Then he gently reaches over and ruffles your hair. The affectionate gesture leaves you stunned speechless. “That’s because you had me there. I always told Mal he was the trouble maker.”

“I heard that!” Mal calls, and you both can’t stop chuckling as you rejoin them all. “Well, did you find anything?” He asks eagerly.

“More than you can imagine,” Tyril says, nearly floating on air he was so buoyant. 

Mal blinks, clearly never having seen him so happy anymore than the rest of you.

Which makes the mood a tad incongruent as you continue walking, pressing further through the Deadwood beyond.

Soon enough, the sun begins to fade again overhead. “We’re almost to Undermount,” Tyril says with a longing sigh ahead, the mountain looming very close in the distance now. “But I’m afraid we’re going to have to spend another night in the Deadwood.”

“Will the drakna come again?” Nia asks with a weary look around.

“We’ll set up a secure camp and keep watch. Beyond that, all we can do is pray,” he responds with a smile just for her. She’s quick to do so back and even giggles.

“Is that elf always so cheery?” Baldur scoffs.

“This is him on a good day,” Mal’s mocking assurance and eye roll never wear off.

“So, where do we make camp?” Imtura asks, looking around at the options, but still unpleasantly aware she was out of her element. 

“By the water,” you decide.

“What water? I don’t see any-” Baldur begins scathingly.

“Look at the way the foliage is curving,” you pleasantly interrupt as if schooling a child. “It’s drawing toward a water source.”

“You, you can tell that just by looking at it?” He doesn’t seem sure whether he should believe you or if you’re mocking him. 

“I know my woods,” you smirk. 

“That’s impressive!” Aerin says in delight, clutching your arm. “Please, show us the way.”

Gently extracting your arm and trying not to let a strut show, you lead the group down a steep hill until you reach a break in the trees-

Where you find a tranquil clearing with willowy trees framing a beautiful sparkling lake. It glows shades of purple and blue almost painfully bright after so much darkness of the forest. The trees are still bare, but there’s a feeling in the air here. Another pocket of beauty not yet desecrated.

“Hey, now we’re talking,” Mal grins in relief. 

“This is, marvelous!” Aerin’s voice is aquiver with excitement and joy, and you share a grin with him. You’d almost forgotten what experiencing something new could feel like without some accompanying horror… you’re almost taken back to that moment you first saw the ocean and Mal’s kind smile on you. “What is this place?” He’s back to clutching your arm eagerly. “There’s flora blooming all over the ground!”

Tyril dips a hand in the water, and it comes back sparkling with a delicate light. “This lake is rich with magic, a deep rift of the Light. It infuses this whole clearing.”

“It’s beautiful,” Nia sighs, doing a little spin with her fingers extended like a fairy of elden tails about to take flight. 

“Eh, not bad,” Imtura grunts, but you muffle a snort at hearing even she’s enthralled. It might not be the ocean, but she knew something amazing when she saw it.

“Will we be safe here Tyril?” You ask hopefully. 

“Safer,” he agrees, eyes traveling back up the way you came and giving you a grateful nod. 

“Right then, let's pitch the tents,” Mal says with an obvious yawn. 

“You must be joking,” Baldur switches his gaze from a nearby log covered in moss to Mal without a change in expression. “I will not partake in something so utterly barbaric.”

“I’ll help!” Aerin gives your arm a little shake. “I love putting things together. I have a particular talent for solving puzzles!”

“You know what, as far as princes go, you’re not half bad,” Mal says with a kind smile on him.

You laugh in agreement as Aerin helps arrange camp while Baldur leans arrogantly against a tree. After your tent is set up, you get up and stretch your legs, and that’s when you notice Imtura. 

“Hrah!” She’s off on her own beside the lake, practicing her fighting technique. She moves with an impossible grace as she flows through different stances. This isn’t the first time you’ve seen her do it on your walk to the Deadwood, but it is the first time you really have the courage to go over and talk to her without worrying how she’d laugh at you.

“Woah,” you utter, rather glad you were alone and Aerin had found somewhere else to be at the moment as you flush warm all over for her magnificent form on display. 

She catches you watching, and bobs her head with a wink. “See something you like?”

“Every damn day lately,” you say without hesitation. Her grin widens as you walk closer. “What is it that you’re doing exactly?”

“It’s called the Kaytar. The Zephyr and the Boulder forms. It’s the fighting style of all Tal Kaelen orcs.” She says with pride.

“Why Zephyr and Boulder?” You ask, clearly hearing something of significance in there.

“Cuz you’re as intangible as the wind, right up until the moment you SMASH with the force of a boulder,” she waves her fist in the air, her knuckles a moment from your nose. You hadn’t even seen her shift her weight. Your stomach drops, and your blood soars. She tips her head to the side and eyes you. “I could train ya, if you wanted. Show you a move or two again?”

“Yeah?” You agree. “I didn’t embarrass myself to bad last time?”

“If we’re going up against this Shadow Court, you’ll need every advantage you can get,” she says seriously. Okay, but that hadn’t been a no- “Plus, it’d make you the first elf to know the Kaytar, so, consider this a once in a lifetime offer.” She sweetens the pot, having still moved closer.

As if you were even capable of doing anything other than saying, “teach me.” And then, just to sweeten the pot, you can’t help but give her a smile and add, “I do love getting physical.”

She laughed, rotating her jaw around, already brimming with excitement. “You mean I didn’t wear you out last night? I'll have to try harder next time…” she reaches up and runs her fingers gently against your chin. Your lips part in memory, tingling pleasantly-

“Can’t wait,” you assure around your thundering heart. “Now, let’s see what you got?” As if you weren’t intimately aware of everything she’s got by now…

“All right,” she agrees, snapping back to business and dropping her hand. “First up is the Zephyr form. It’s all about movements, body placement. We orcs are quick on our feet. Makes our size more fearsome.”

“I’ve noticed,” you breathlessly agree.

She gives you a wink, but continues unperturbed. “We live on the water, so we make the fluidity part of our movements. Knowing when to ebb, when to flow. When to move fast, when to move slow.”

“Didn’t take you for a poet,” you admire at the cadence building in her voice, the love pouring into her words. You can only imagine what else she’d learned from Skullcrusher aside from impressive arm wrestling abilities. 

Her grin widens at you. “You’ve got a lot to learn about me, landrat. Now, c’mon, let’s get you into a Zephyr stance.”

You imitate the stance she shows you, partially crouching, knees loose, abdomen engaged. 

“It’s all about placing your body weight so you can move quick as a breeze.” She nods, circling you. “Pretty good, but lemme make a few adjustments?”

You nod, and she steps close behind you, her arms sliding along yours- and then she jams her knee into the back of yours. 

“Oof!” You yelp in surprise, your whole body fighting to wobble and topple you over, but you’ve already adjusted and gotten yourself balanced back before she’s even stepped away.

“There we go, see how easy you can move in that stance?” She grins.

Lightness rushes through your body, every muscle ready to spring at a moment’s notice under her eyes. “Yeah! I’m not even moving but I feel, fast?”

She laughs in agreement. “Perfect. Now use that speed to dodge this!”

Imtura rushes toward you, and your muscles flex, your body reacting on instinct. You spin right under her arm into her blind spot, tightening your abdomen, and pivot behind her before she can skid to a stop. You bring a finger between her shoulder blades, and poke. “Got ya.”

Her roar of laughter might attract the most fearsome of predators in challenge, or scare it away to the other side of the world. You really don't care. “You’re a hell of a fast learner Syrum. Impress me again and I might even call you a natural.”

“You and those compliments. However will I burst my ego,” you smirk with a wavy errant hand.

“All right, next up is Boulder.” She presses on with a smirk of her own. “It’s all about using your body weight to strike quick and hard.” She raises her eyebrows at you knowingly. “We know a thing or two about quick and hard, don’t we?”

“You keep flirting with me during this lesson, and I won’t learn a thing,” you cannot say without a deep lust in your voice of whatever comes next.

She shakes her head with a sigh but moves on. You’re almost disappointed. “We Kaytar fighters get a lot of use out of the flat hand strikes, the kicks, and the shoulders. You got one you’re interested in learning more about?”

The glove she’d once given you, or really, you’d stolen from her is still safely in your pack, and you weren’t really worried about packing a punch if the need arose when you could slip that on. Having always been agile and fast though, you were intrigued on how to improve something else. “Kicking stronger? I mean, it sounds pretty self-explanatory. You just kick whatever’s in your way, right?”

“Spoken like a true landrat,” she shakes her head. “That, Syrum, is how you break your toes.”

“Okay. Let’s not do that. I am listening,” you attentivly promise.

“You gotta know where to aim, which part of your foot to use. The heel’s good for smashing things in, like if you gotta get through a door. You wanna take someone out from behind? Hook where the top of your foot meets your ankle right around their knee, and they’re down.” She turns around, grinning at you over her shoulder. “C’mon, make me weak in the knees.”

The challenge in her almost makes you think this is a double cross. “You want me to do that to you?”

“You get someone on the ground during a fight, and you’ve basically won. C’mon, knock me down. If you can.” She insists with all the pleasantness of a poisonous flower. She still might kill you, but it might still be worth it to go out like that.

You take a breath. First you position your weight like she taught you during the Zephyr, and then you strike! “RAH!” With all your weight balanced, you plant your foot, hooking into the back of her knee, and it buckles! She falls to one with an, “oof,” of surprise.

“Did, did I hurt you?” You pant in surprise, rolling quickly away. “Did, I, do it? Oh gods, it worked, just like you said. I did it!”

She’s still on her knee before you, looking up at you with great surprise, and a full smile. It is a sight you don’t think you ever could have imagined before this moment that does very strange things to you. “I didn’t actually think you’d be able to. You’re getting good at this. I’d say you’re ready for a real fight.” A wicked gleam enters her eyes.

“Wait, what are you-”

There’s not a second to process the mingled abject terror and delight that courses through you as she charges forward with a, “RRAAHH!”

She bolts, but your body finds its pose naturally, speed coursing through you. Without a second of hesitation, your confidence naturally flows through you into a spin out of her path again. She whirls around, lashing out with a fist. You naturally go on the offense at the presented opening, ducking beneath her blow, then use the flat of your foot to kick her exposed side. She trips several steps back.

“Looks like you need to keep up,” you laugh in delight, feeling weightless as you balance eagerly for more.

“Wooo boy!” She’s shaking her hair out of her eyes and can’t stop smiling, even rubbing her side for a moment. “Look at you, landrat. But you don’t stand a chance against me yet.” Fast as a whip, she slings one arm around your neck and spins you around, catching you in a stranglehold as you tumble to the ground in a controlled fall.

With a spluttering, “whoa!” you hit the ground hard, and she pounces on top of you, pinning you beneath her. Your breath floods out of you, mingling with hers. 

“You’re learnin’ quick. You might even stand a chance…” she grins down at you, breathing just as hard, tendrils of hair sticking to the sweat on both of your faces mingling together in a mesmerizing pattern. “Against a lesser foe, of course.”

You can’t stop breathing her in from how close she is. The very air around her is shimmering, blasting heat against your skin, you can feel the temperature of her body bearing down on yours, her face a mere inch away from yours once more. 

“Suppose I ought to get up?” She asks.

“I think you’re right where I want you to be,” you assure.

With a hearty laugh, she seizes your wrists and pins them above your head again, lowering her face somehow closer, her lips tickling, trailing, but still not quite pressing down. You long to feel her tusks again… “Seein’ how I’ve been meaning to keep you strung up like this since we met, I’d still say I won.”

“Then I’ll let you win more often,” you all but purr.

Her eyes flicker to your lips, and she grins, teasing, giving your wrists one last squeeze, before she stands back up. “I’ll have to take you up on that real soon Syrum. Unfortunately, I think we’d better get back to the others.”

You lay in the dirt, more disoriented from her weight being gone than how you’d wound up there in the first place with a great, flustering sigh… but you stand up with a groan and distantly hear your friends bickering over look-out assignments. “Right. That.” You resist the urge to take her hand at least… but you weren’t sure where to go from here either, so you instead say, “thanks for the lesson, Imtura. I’ll appreciate it even more once the bruises fade I’m sure.” As if you wouldn’t be poking them later and trying not to-

She cracks her knuckles with a chuckle. “Pleasure's all mine. Let’s do it again sometime.”

“Just say the word,” you agree, walking back with her to camp, arms brushing, causing a lingering burn in your muscles, confident in every step.

You rejoin the others at your campground. Everyone is settling in for the night, with Tyril keeping watch, when- 

“Everyone look out! Across the lake!” Aerin all but screams as his eyes dart around in the darkness.

You don’t have a moment to doubt him. A creature appears at the water's edge. It looks like a horse, but as it lowers its neck to lap at the shimmering water, you spot the horn jutting from its forehead!

It is a real, glorified, mythical, unicorn. Its coat is alabaster white, its mane shimmering iridescent rainbow in the moonlight every shade of white and silver with a hint of the rest of the world bouncing off each other. 

Mal’s blinking painfully at the sight, even rubbing his eyes. “Are all the lake sparkles messing with my eyes, or is that a unicorn?”

“That’s, impossible!” Nia’s on her knees, though you’re not sure if she’s sunken into a bow or she’s just unable to move from crawling out of her tent. “I read that they went extinct after the Dreadlord destroyed these woods!”

The unicorn doesn’t seem particularly extinct as it continues drinking.

“It must have been protected by the same wards that protect this lake,” Tyril says, he’s actually pressing his hand to his heart. “Its presence bodes well for our quest-” he’s smiling so bright, you’ve seen him happier today than you ever could have imagined-

“Bodes well for my trophy room, you mean!” Baldur’s leapt to his feet. Before you can react, he nocks an arrow into his bow and takes aim.

White hot fury slams into you, your vision going red as you shout, “NO!” You dive towards him, trying to knock the bow out of his hands.

“How dare you peasant!” He manages to let the arrow fly as you crash into him.

“NO!” Nia’s scream echoes the cacophony of other shouts now.

You look around, cringing, waiting to hear the tell-tell scream of the unicorn, but the impact never comes. 

Aerin stands before you, his eyes wide, clutching the arrow shaft in one fist.

…”Did- did you just, catch, that arrow?” You wonder if you’d crashed into a pile of rocks and slammed your head against something else… though it wouldn’t be a wild difference to the person you did-

“I, I don’t know how, I just, reacted,” Aerin said, just as stunned blank as you as he stares down at the shaft.

“NNrnngh!” Across the lake, the unicorn stares at your party, nostril’s flaring, then canters off into the woods.

“That was my kill you little bastard!” Bladur tries to kick you away, though you roll aside before his boot can impact, and watch with utter contempt as he gets up to shove his brother and snatch his arrow out of his hand.

“How, on earth, did you do that Aerin?” you ask, panting slightly as you get slowly to your feet, eyes flickering between the two brothers and honestly not sure what you want to do more, skin Baldur alive, or somehow study Aerin’s mind. At least the latter is easier to focus on than causing a regicide and war with the elves and humans.

“Is it really so hard to believe?” He asks, angry for the first time, utterly wounded as he stares at you. “My reflexes are well-honed after a life with him as my brother.” The implication there makes your stomach clench with stress as Aerin glares at Baldur. “I’ve learned how to defend myself, I just wish that I’d started defending others sooner.”

“Oh, how noble of you little brother,” Baldur says with a disgusting twisted thing of a smile. 

“Back off!” You rush to jump in front of Aerin. “You have no right to treat your own brother that way! Just like you had no right to try to kill that unicorn!”

“I can do whatever I want!” Baldur steps towards you, hand trembling with rage. You watch carefully without batting an eye for where that hand will go. “I’m your prince!”

“You’re a monster,” you spit back.

“Hah! And I should listen to some cut-rate, lowlife, dalloping whore of a mercenary?!” He laughs derisively, tense, ready to spring.

“I-” something in you freezes in shock… you’d never been called that, but you knew that word, shouted after men and women heading into, and out of brothels, or so you heard whispered… did you know what that word meant? It was the image you’d presented yourself as, in theory, but something of his sickening tone slams into you as you realize he very well could be referring to the open display you’d just had with Imtura-

“Syrum’s right Baldur!” Aerin stumbles, but he’s beside you. “The way you act is an embarrassment to the Valleros name. It’s despicable-”

He finally lunged, but not where you’d expected. Baldur strikes his little brother across the jaw with the back of his hand, one of the many rings on his hand gouging a deep cut in place.

Aerin reals back with an, “argh!”

“Ka-?!” You see Aerin press his hand to his face, but there’s not a flicker of surprise there really as whatever horrors your mind is trying to wrap you up in settle back quickly to reality. Out of the corner of your eye you can see Tyril has a hand on Mal’s shoulder, whispering, “relax, he’s got this-” as well as Imtura with both hand’s on Nia’s shoulders, but it’s all background noise as you crouch in place.

 In a blind whirl, you snatch for the little whelps wrist, but he moves back with a blood red face, sure footed. At minimum, he has had training. More than you. “You don’t deserve to be king!”

“Yes, well, I’m going to be,” he sneers. “And unless you want to spend the rest of your life staring at a dungeon wall, you’d better learn to show some respect!” He stalks off into a tent. Aerin glowers after him, still rubbing his jaw, a little rivulet of red between his fingers.

You’re shaking with rage, every instinct in you screaming to run after and tear the head off of that guy, shove that crown up his- but something else wins out as you turn in concern back to the lost little brother.

“Want me to go rearrange your brother’s face?” Imtura asks not unkindly as you step towards Aerin gently. “I’ll do it, and gladly.” She’s released Nia, and you realize belatedly she’d been holding the priestess back. From doing what exactly, your imagination is really running to wild to cobble together.

“He’s, he’s not worth the effort,” Aerin chokes out. He’s trying desperately not to look at any of you. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“I’m sorry that your brother treats you that way,” Nia says in the same choked voice, she looks moments away from flinging her arms around Aerin to hug him close. “I didn’t know family could be so, so cruel to each other.”

“Not even a 100 gold would make it worth putting up with his arrogant ass,” Mal agrees in pure contempt. “Can we just feed him to the drakna?”

Tyril regards Aerin with crossed arms, his expression unreadable. “You humans would be foolish putting your brother on the throne. You strike me as a much better prince.”

Aerin looks like Tyril had taken a turn smacking him next. “But, I’m not-”

“Tyril’s right,” you gently put your hand on his arm, honestly hoping he’d hear you as more than a joke. “You haven’t turned your nose up to us, you saved that unicorn. You’re a lot nobler than Baldur could ever be.”

For a second you think he’ll smile, but then bitterness flashes across his face. He jerks his arm away and glares into the darkness. “I appreciate the sentiment, but I’ve already accepted my place. And it’s in my brother's shadow.”

Your throat swells shut in pain for him. There’s a heavy sense of unease in the air as your friends wander off, resuming setting up the night for camp. Aerin settles on a log, rubbing his jaw.

“Let me at least make you a compress,” you offer bleakly.

“You don’t have to-”

“I know, but I want to.” You assure. “Besides, it’s the least I can do.”

He blinks up at you, doe eyed, and you take that as a yes as you gather up several herbs out of your bag and put them in a small compress, which you hand to him. Aerin presses it to his jaw. 

“Ah, that does help.” He grins, but it looks a bit of a mess. His jaw is already starting to shade in a bruising color.

“I knew it would,” you say, crouching in front of him with a sad smile. “For the record, I’m on board with Mal’s feed Baldur to the darkna plan. You know. If you’re interested.”

You’re not sure if he takes it as a joke, a part of you really does mean it as angry as you still are to your core seeing him in this state, but Aerin just shakes his head with a lingering smile. “I’ll admit that sounds tempting, but, all the questions I’d have to answer back at court don’t. More than that, I just wish he would change. Open his eyes to the world. Set aside some of his pride.” He lets out a deep, blustering sigh he’d probably been holding in all his life. “Be a good brother,” he finishes on a small whisper nearly caught in the wind.

He stands up before you can do more than let your heart ache and wrap him in a hug as you desperately want to.

“I’m going to take a walk around the lake, clear my head.” His eyes meet yours, and for a second you see something in them, a hint of connection. Of hidden depths. “Would you care to join me?”

“You wouldn’t mind company?” You confirm, not really following. “Mine?”

“Not at all,” he agrees earnestly. “You seem like a wise soul, not to mention kind. Your company would be welcome.”

OR BOLAS OR

You can’t help but say yes without further question. Anything he needs from you right now, even if it was just to walk in silence. “I’d be happy to accompany you,” you readily agree. 

Aerin smiles at you, genuine but with a hint of sadness. “Thank you, Syrum.” He takes off, strolling along the shore of the dazzling lake as it reflects the night stars side by side with you. “I didn’t expect to find something so beautiful at the heart of the Deadwood. It makes me think of what other wonders are out there, just waiting to be found in the shadow!”

You laugh in agreement, resisting the urge to throw your arm over him still and hold him close at the raw excitement in his voice you could still hear in your own, though it grew rarer by the day. “Or waiting to be restored,” you grandly agree, looking all around.

He looks at you thoughtfully. “The scholars at Whitetower say that what is lost cannot be restored. Once something's corrupted, it’s impossible to bring it back to the Light.”

You clench your hand around your satchel uncomfortably. You can hear the force behind your own words. “I don’t think that’s true. It’s possible to purify things, even after they've been corrupted by shadow… at least, I have to believe that’s true…”

“You seem quite invested in learning about purification,” Aerin says, obviously noting the sudden seriousness, and darkness in your own voice.

You waver on the spot whether to tell him about Kade or not… but can’t imagine the harm really. Not from him. “Well, the truth is, I fear my brother might be lost to the shadows.”

“Really? How did that come to be?” He’s startled, he’s looking at you in a brand new light.

You hesitate, biting your lip. Gods, you were so tired of telling this story with no end in sight…

“You don’t have to talk about it if it’s too painful,” Aerin says gently, putting his hand on your shoulder. 

You manage a robust sigh and shake yourself off. “I’m going to do everything I can to save him. And I believe he can be saved. I know he can.”

He drops his hand, and gives you a friendly nudge with a reassuring smile. “In the brief time I’ve known you, I can see how capable you are. I know you’ll accomplish anything you set out to do.”

You’re smiling back at him when his eyes suddenly widen. “Look! An indigo moonbloom! I thought these were extinct!”

Aerin rushes toward the lakeside, where a rocky outcropping shelters a viny bush of deep purple flowers. As he bends down to study them up close, the petals start to stretch open, turning their faces toward the full moon. 

“This is amazing,” you gasp. “They’re just like that unicorn, preserved by whatever makes this place so special.”

He reaches out and taps his fingertip to one of the velvety petals. The flower shudders and turns toward him before facing the moon again. “Their petals can be ground up and brewed into an elixir said to heal the deepest corruption,” you can hear the smile in his voice, and the way it trickles off as he continues hovering his fingers in place. “But these may be the last moonblooms left in all the realms. It’d be a shame to destroy them.”

Aerin contemplates for a moment, then suddenly pulls off his boots. “I shall sit here and admire them as long as I can then!” He slips his feet into the shimmering water at the lakeside. “You only get to dip your feet in one magically preserved lake in your life, right? Join me!”

You laugh in delight and quickly follow. “If you insist.” You take off your own shoes and sit in the grass. The cool water is refreshing as you slip your feet in. 

He begins gently kicking his feet, sending splashes over the water as he smiles down at the moonblooms.

A mischievous little feeling clouds your mind you hadn’t acted on in so long… but there’s no harm in it… it’s not as if you can’t play with anyone in the water other than Kade your whole life… and you vividly remember doing the same to Mal. You hadn’t forgotten Kade, the world hadn’t ended.

Seizing the thought and refusing to keep dwelling, drowning, you give Aerin an innocent smile. “Hey, check this out.”

“Hm? What-” he turns around just as you perfectly flick the water off your fingers right into his face. “Hey!” He sputters. Then, before you can even finish your first breath of laugh, you hear, “take this!”

With an invigorated grin, he flicks water right back at you. You throw your hands up to defend yourself breathlessly. “Ah! I wasn’t expecting such a quick comeback!”

“That’s where you went wrong! We princes are trained for any kind of combat!” Aerin says with a pleased smile and a royal shake of his head. His crown wriggles in place upon his ears. 

The two of you flick water at each other with a fervor, your laughter spiraling up into the night. “Okay, truce! My fingers are cramping!” You plead between giggles.

Aerin shakes droplets of water out of his hair, making the air shimmer around him. “You know, this isn’t extremely princely of me,” he says, sounding quite bemused with himself as he rubs his hand on his still glistening robes threaded in red and gold as bright as the stars. Like Nia’s attire, you can’t even imagine what it’s made of to be so sturdy, clean, bright, after what must have been weeks of travel.

“I’m so curious,” you admit. “What’s the first thing you're going to do when you get back?”

He shrugs, casting his gaze up at the stars. “Same as I always do, I suppose. Try my best to smooth over my brother’s brash decisions as he prepares to rule.”

It’s like he sucked all the joy back out of the world, as the darkness seeps back in around you both. “You said you hoped to be one of his advisers on his council,” you sigh in agreement. “Does it do any good?”

“Yes, I’d be able to prevent him from making a lot of mistakes.” Aerin said adamantly. “But, that implies that he’ll actually listen to me…” he trails off with a clearly miserable idea of how that would work out, his face morphing into his own anger. His face colored red just like Baldur’s. “I’ll just have to try to do everything I can until then, and for that, I need knowledge.” 

An impish grin alights his face suddenly. “What about you Syrum?” It’s a clear change of subject, and you can't really blame him. “What will you do after collecting your reward from Lord Gillbottle? Will you be staying in Whitetower?”

“I,” the weight of that answer feels far to heavy for the light, lie of a question it really is. You hitch a smile back into place, giving an answer you assume is expected… because the true knot of it is one you’re to scared to deal with otherwise. “I’ll seek out more adventure of course! I think there’s plenty more to do once my party’s finished with Lord-”

Aerin cuts you off with a snort. 

“What’s so funny?” You ask in surprise, your mind scrabbling madly for what you did wrong, Kade always saw right through your little jokes-

“Syrum, I know you know there’s no Lord Gillbottle.” Aerin gives you a leveled look.

“You- you know that huh?” You ask sheepishly, really not that surprised now that you think about it. Aerin, unlike his brother, would be the kind to know all the lordlings that came and went.

“Knew from the second I heard it,” he agrees with a chuckle. “But don’t worry, Baldur hasn’t a clue. In case you haven't noticed, he isn’t all that bright.”

“Believe me, it shows,” you snort with derision. “But, why are you keeping our secret?”

“I figure what you do is none of my business,” he shrugs. “I’m just happy we found you in these woods, so we didn’t have to keep traveling alone.”

Yeah, that was a fair trade. You struggle to swallow a moment as you look out at the rest of the woods, the ways you still had to go. “I hope we make it to Undermount soon. My brother’s life is on the line.”

Aerin takes your hands in his as he gazes into your eyes. You’re so startled, you squeeze back automatically. “I fear there are more trials to come, for all of us.” - you want to pull back- “but you’re strong Syrum. Don’t lose hope.”

His kindness is a welcoming balm to your ravaged mental state after the day you’ve had to spend around him. It does you no good to strain yourself, constantly wishing to see Kade out of the corner of your eye, wondering what he’d say… and the ever growing feeling of getting used to the silence. You find yourself nearly blinking away tears as you look at Aerin. “I’ll try not to, thank you.”

“I should be thanking you,” he says seriously, still holding onto your hand. “For taking the time to speak with me. I’d forgotten how nice it is to be able to open up to someone. To lower my guard, and simply be myself.”

Gods, he really was hitting you right where it hurt. “You must constantly be on the defense at the palace, alone.” The bruise his own brother had given him was forming nicely upon his jaw, mottling it, swelling. The only thing stopping it from being gruesome was the herbs you’d given him.

“It can be exhausting,” he agrees cheerfully. “But I’m glad to know you understand me Syrum.” He tilts his soft gaze up toward yours. His expression is full of lingering sorrow, but also full of compassion. You can’t help but let go of his hand, and pull him into a hug. 

“Oh,” he manages a startled little yelp, but wraps his arms kindly around you back.

“I’m glad we understand each other Aerin,” you murmur.

He smiles shyly as you release him and wraps his arms around himself. “Unfortunately, we should probably return. But, thank you for sharing this time with me.” He pauses for a moment, then fiddles with his hand, before handing you something sparkling and gold. “I want you to have this.”

It was a beautiful golden ring, with the royal seal pressed in. Like a bizarre pumpkin-strawberry hybrid, vines and leaves all around its middle where the seeds showed. 

“It bears the sigil of my royal line. If you ever are in trouble, show it to whoever’s in charge. They’ll know you’re protected.” He says with faint, actual pride for his blood for once.

“Thank you,” you murmur, clutching your hand tight around it. “I’ll treasure it.” You tuck the ring into your bag and make your way back to the camp where most of your companions are already asleep. 

“Sleep well, Syrum,” Aerin murmurs, before bravely going off to bed down in his brother's tent. The inevitability of watching that makes you feel powerless as you clutch your satchel and bite back a sob.

You watch him go with a painful feeling of regret, for yourself, for him. You cannot stand to be alone right now, so you tentatively go towards the one tent you long to be in, and screw anyone else who had something to say about it. You give the flap a gentle push, whispering, “it’s me, can I come in?”

There’s a rough snort you imagine for a moment is her snoring, startling awake, and you cringe back, but then her voice murmurs back without a trace of surprise, “of course.”

You duck inside without further hesitation, but make your way hesitantly to her side. She’s as dressed down as she usually is when she beds for the night. That is to say, still in full kilt leather and furs. Her skin must be amazingly thick, even more than you’d originally assumed. You usually have to at least take off the leather vest to get comfortable, depending on your exhaustion level. 

“How’d the walk with the princling go?” She asks, nothing but kindness, and a hint of worry in her voice in the dark, one arm casually behind her head as she watches you.

“About as well as could be expected,” you grumble, your tone full of bitterness for the world. “Did Mal smother Baldur in his sleep yet?”

Her laugh brings a welcoming smile out of you you’d sorely needed. “Haven’t heard anything yet, but I won’t be surprised.” She raises her other arm invitingly, and your smile widens, going forward and pressing into her side. She sighs, a sound of relief as her arm drops back around your waist, holding you close. 

There’s silence for a moment, but it’s not awkward, not the least bit presumptuous. She’s just waiting as your fingers alternatively tangle and pet her furs and her hair, and the painful words finally bubble out in the safety of her embrace. “I don’t know how to live without him. I hate that I’m getting used to it, or worse, that I’m not. I don’t know, I-” Imtura gently squeezes your hip, pressing you closer. You bury your face in the crook of her neck. “I feel like such an idiot, I know I’m, that I-”

“Shh,” she murmurs gently, giving you a little jostle. “Not your fault, it’s normal for family to hurt a new way every day. I know what it’s like to love someone that makes it as hard as possible to do so from afar.”

You’re shaking just a bit, but your breathing evens out quickly under her as your breaths slowly match hers. She stills smells of the salty sea, and something richer, deeper, all her own. You wonder if she can even feel you practically lying on top of her, your hands clutching the soft velvet of her furs like a lifeline, but the way her body shifts gently every time yours does to keep you close sort of answers that as you close your eyes and drift off to a gentle sleep.

OR BOLAS OR

… but honestly, you need a moment to clear your own head after all that too. “Sorry, but, I need a moment too. Be careful out there though. We don’t know what’s on the other side of that lake.” You tell Aerin. 

He nods, looking a tad dejected, but heads off. 

You settle in for the night, sharing a tent with Nia, listening to the spooky sounds of the Deadwood far in the distance as the serene lake laps at the shore nearby. 

When you wake up, you find yourself wedged in tight under Imtura’s arm still, and you have to once again wriggle free of her good grip with a mild laugh of delight you’re trying to keep muffled- but something’s wrong.

Something’s, sticky- too tight- cold- wet- all around you-

You realize you aren’t pinned in by her at all… but by a tightly wrapped cocoon, clinging to your skin as you begin wrestling in place. 

“Imtura? Nia! Mal? Tyril! Aerin-” Just barely through the thick material obscuring your eyes, you swear you can see lumpy cocoons dotting the sprawling drakna web where you’ve been trapped.

And in the distance, you hear the buzzing of angry wings.

“HELP!” The raw scream of shock and horror wrenches out of you.

 It is met with silence.

[writerleo86]

Princess Saviors - Season 1 - Episode 11 (Do Not Copy) - 2024.07.09

    Inside the old room of the ruined motel somewhere in Violet City, the stressed Rudolfo thought to himself as he sat on the old-cushioned chair at the left side of the damaged bed. And the villain had the right side of his head laying on the back of his hand while the elbow remained on the right arm of the chair.

    Rudolfo wore a pale-violet shirt with long sleeves as his neck was covered by a tied black scarf. He also had on a pair of black dress-pants, dark-purple socks, and black dress-shoes.

    While continuing to ponder, he was surrounded by six large balls of dark fire floating in the air.

    He stated "I am certain that I will be shunned by everyone including my majesty if I were to return."

    The tired Rudolfo leaned his head on the head of the chair and continued.

    "One after one, five of the kittens have uncovered fragments of the Holy Power which my majesty is mad for. Surely it will not be long until the last has learned of her power."

    Then he blew a soft breath and added "That would be a devastating ordeal if the small kittens were to learn the full extent of what has been bestowed to them by the Angel herself."

    A strong female voice soon told him "You really shouldn't do this alone."

    Rudolfo jumped quickly from his chair. Then he searched around his room until he spotted something walking from the shadows before him.

    The being appeared as an adult cat having beautiful white fur and bright blue eyes.

    Rudolfo collected himself and implied "They have sent you here for me?"

    The cat answered in a soft but blunt female voice "I came on my own will."

    Rudolfo slowly shook his head as the feline looked up at each of the orbs floating around the man.

    "Then why have you revealed yourself to me?" questioned Rudolfo.

    "It must be true," implied the cat. "You were basically slaughtered by a group of little mortal girls. How pitiful you look now."

    "Silence Lumo," ordered an unfazed Rudolfo.

    Once she sat down, the cat continued staring at the floating balls as she continued.

    "You look quite horrid, de Loca. You are to be celebrated as one of the greatest and fiercest in our land for many decades. But I see you now as a mere commoner. It is about time that you have faced reality."

    "Damn you!" yelled Rudolfo.

    The cat shook her head and said more.

    "You were born to a lower-class family while the rest of us are pure-bloods. Our Highness only took pity on you because of what a fine warrior you were. You have executed those who were enemies to the crown before you were officially named a general."

    Rudolfo pointed his right finger to the small creature and yelled "How dare you talk to me in such a manner!"

    The cat responded "I am only giving truth. Before our Highness had discovered you, you Rudolfo de Loca were but the child of a mortal peasant and a lower guard."

    The angered Rudolfo asked "Is this the only reason why you have come? To belittle me?"

    Next, the cat walked toward the left side of the villainous Rudolfo.

    The feline looked up at the only ball behind Rudolfo that didn't shine and reported "Only one part of the holy treasure has not brightened. You may have a chance to redeem yourself."

    The cat told him "Our Highness has granted a last chance to you. I had decided to come here and offer some assistance."

    Rudolfo turned his head away and asked "Why would I desire assistance from you?"

    "Just lead your ears," replied the feline. "I may have a way for you to redeem yourself concerning your position with our Majesty."

    Then Rudolfo sat down on his chair.

    He shook his head and said "Go on."

    The cat shook her head and directed "Instead of stealing the last fragment of the Holy Power, you should appear to the girl yourself. And you can convert her to our cause. Learn of the identity of this girl. Then you can simply woe her with what she truly desires."

    "What the mortal desires?" repeated Rudolfo.

    "Every mortal wants something," implied the cat. "You should just discover what this girl wants strongly. Then you can give the object to her while influencing the girl to side with us. And we will possess one of the six fragments that create the Holy Power."

    And Rudolfo thought carefully until he slowly gave out a wicked grin.

Princess -- Episode 11

Trust

    During the next morning, the regal Logan arrived at a large clearing of the beautiful forest close to the New Hope Private School in Violet City. And she met with three of her teammates who were setting a large wooden table.

    Logan had on a light-pink T-shirt with a pair of tight gray jeans and long brown boots. She also wore her small pink earrings that were shaped as roses and a pair of golden glasses with black-tinted lenses. She had a large khaki hat. And she carried a large bag made of thick brown string.

    One of the three girls who were at the right side of the table was Ruby wearing a long green T-shirt, tight light-blue jeans, white socks, and white shoes.

    The other standing with her was Annie with a pink T-shirt that had a large yellow star printed on the center of the chest. She had on a pair of tight dark-blue jeans and brown Western-themed boots. And she wore a large white Cowboy-type hat.

    The timid Lulu remained sitting at the other side of the table as she wore a long red T-shirt with a large white circle printed on the center of the chest. She also had on brown overalls consisting of leggings that lowered to her ankles. And she wore a pair of brown sandals.

    Ruby greeted "Hey Jenzie! Didn't think you were comin' at all!"

    "I never thought I would come either," implied Logan. "But I thought that we should have this event after all."

    "She's right," claimed Lulu. "It'll be a good chance to get to know everyone."

    The small dog called Horus laid down by a large tree nearby as Logan greeted "Hello there, Horus."

    Horus lifted his head and welcomed the regal girl by saying "I am glad you came."

    "This ain't a dream after all," commented Annie. "We're actually here. And we're supposed to be protectors. Chosen by Mystic no less."

    Ruby gave out a loud laugh and implied "Mystic knows her shit! She must think we six are here to spread our good to everyone, or somethin' like dat."

    Lulu lowered her head and added "We also have a talking dog guiding us."

    Annie placed her right hand on the right shoulder of the shy girl and told her "I'm still questionin' this whole thing. You're not the only one, Cole."

    "Can we just stop wit' da last names already?" cried the excited Ruby. "We gotta learn who we are after all!"

    Annie shook her head to Lulu and responded "Then I'll call you Lulu."

    Lulu shook her head as well with a warm smile and said "It's nice to officially meet you, Martin. I mean Annie."

    A familiar voice asked "Are we all here?"

    The group soon spotted the mysterious Sunny standing before them.

    "About time!" yelled Ruby. "I was wonderin' if you were gonna show up!"

    Sunny still had her long hair tied in a high pony-tail. But she wore a long yellow T-shirt, tight red shorts, long white socks, and gray shoes. And she carried her brown backpack.

    Logan gave a soft smile and replied "I never would have thought the Terran Sleuth would actually grace us with her presence."

    Sunny walked a few steps closer while telling everyone "I got a text from Porter about this picnic yesterday. So, I decided to go ahead and go along with this."

    "I'm guessin' you don't wanna be here," implied Annie.

    Sunny commented "Can you blame me? I don't know you all real well. I can't just be chipper. I was given a locket last week. And I'm still trying to figure this whole shit out."

    "It's your right to be like that," said Annie. "I don't know most of you. I barely know you Ruby."

    "Let's just relax," responded Lulu. "We got a chance to talk things out. Why not take advantage."

    "Dat's da spirit Lulu!" praised Ruby. "Let's break da ice already!"

    Horus hopped onto the table and stated "Lulu is correct. You all have come here to basically socialize, get to know each other. You must learn about yourselves as well and get situated before our enemy comes back."

    "You aren't off the hook either, Dog!" cried Sunny. "You brought these people here! How can we trust you?"

    And the group heard another voice answer "We have to trust him."

    Everyone soon discovered the last girl named Piper leaning on a large tree behind Sunny.

    The goth Piper wore a gray shirt with long sleeves along with a short black dress, long black leggings, and black slippers.

    The emotionless Piper informed the other girls "Horus has been right about everything so far. Those people came for our powers. We must assume that this group will do something terrible to our universe if they had all six gems. So, we should listen."

    "Gurl!" cried Ruby. "Ya just can't appear like dat ya know!"

    "Hale's right," implied Lulu. "We should at least hear Horus out."

    The regal Logan nodded her head and asked "What say you, Martin?"

    Annie thought to herself as Sunny told them "I'm not going to jump for anyone unless I know everything. Until then, I really can't trust any of you."

    After that, the icy Sunny walked away from the gathering.

    "Wait Wilson!" yelled Lulu. "Come back!"

    "It may be best for the time being," responded Logan. "I harbor probably the same feelings as Wilson due to the drama that has come our way as of late."

    A worried Ruby leaned her head to the right and told the group "Wilson ain't really like dat. She just ain't a joiner."

    Logan described "That is for certain. Sunny Wilson... She has the sharpest of my minds. But she is not a trusting individual."

    "No," cried Annie. "That ain't it."

    "Watcha talkin' about, Annie?" questioned Ruby.

    Annie stared at her closed locket which she held on her right hand.

    And she informed everyone "I think it's deeper than that. Somethin' is causin' Sunny to pull back. Somethin' big, real big."

[unusualindigo]

This Swirling Storm, Preview

AD 2206, 11/15, 13th Hierarchical City of Kagutsuchi – Ronin-Gai

Kagura Mutsuki sighs as he continues to search for his missing secretary, Hibiki Kohaku. He sips his tequila thoughtfully as he walks through the streets, skillfully avoiding the rambunctious partygoers.

Hibiki had made themselves scarce after he’d taken to a pair of beautiful sisters, as was their habit. They never did like to see him woo. He winces as the wind brushes the stinging palmprints on his left cheek.

Back to the matter at hand, Hibiki wouldn’t have gone far, too duty minded to truly leave him unguarded, and on top of that, they had no real associates in Ronin-Gai that he knows of. He tilts his head in consideration as he remembers that he actually doesn’t know all that much about Hibiki’s elusive private life.

In fact, he knows nothing at all of what Hibiki does in their spare time. He’s never really thought about it before. They’ve always been the private sort, and Kagura’s had no reason to pry, not that he’d care to even if he did have a reason. Everyone has a right to privacy in their own life.

Still, that does make figuring out where they’d gone a lot harder than he’d like…

A loud chorus of whoops and cheers draws Kagura’s eyes to one of the many stages, and he damn near drops his drink entirely.

It’s Hibiki. They’re wearing a knee-length powder blue yukata with a black obi, and silver raven pins hold back their bangs. They’ve got on smokey eyeshadow and powder blue eyeliner, and rose-pink colors their lips. They look… so beautiful.

Kagura must’ve been staring pretty hard, because Hibiki’s angry ambers snap from the crowd to gaze into his own iolites. Kagura swallows thickly as he takes them in. The fire in those normally cool orbs… it makes them look like some sort of avenging angel, come to reap his sinful soul.

Hibiki scoffs, but Kagura can’t hear what they say over their shoulder to a smirking pair of beauties before they begin to make their way off the stage, towards him.

Kagura snaps out of his daze, downing his tequila in one shot to free up his hand as he sets the empty bottle on the windowsill behind him.

Hibiki rolls their eyes at his antics, coming to stop before him. They’re even more stunning up close. They scoff, “I know that I look ridiculous, Lord Kagura, but I must insist that you stop staring.”

Kagura blinks, then frowns. “Ridiculous? Hibiki, you look amazing.”

Hibiki narrows their eyes in warning. “I do not. I look like one of your ladies of the night.” They glance down at themselves disdainfully. “This is merely the result of my folly. I trust that the wounds on your cheek mean we have no further business here?”

Kagura’s frown deepens. “What do you mean your own folly?” His eyes narrow. “Did someone put you up to this?”

Hibiki sighs, but before they can respond, a drunken Amane Nishiki slings his arm around their shoulders. “My darling star! You can’t seriously be leaving us now, can you? You’ve only just begun to strut your stuff!”

Hibiki glowers at the man with a look that makes Kagura’s blood run cold. No doubt about it. They’re pissed.

Hibiki removes Amane’s arm, hissing, “I agreed to put this on, not to stay the night.”

Kagura blinks. Oh. So Hibiki lost a wager of some sort to Amane, and now they’re all dolled up for the night.

Amane pouts at Kagura. “Mutsuki, can’t you stay a little longer? They haven’t even gotten to dance!”

Kagura pauses for only a moment before smirking down at his fuming secretary. “Hibiki, you wouldn’t deny the birthday boy his wish, would ya?”

Hibiki stares daggers into Kagura’s soul. They murmur, “Lord Kagura, I must insist that we return to the branch.”

Kagura evenly shrugs off his cape, smirk never wavering. “Aw, c’mon. Just give me one dance and we’ll go, promise.”

Amane blinks, then narrows his eyes predatorily. “Oh, yes! I would love to see the two of you on stage together!”

Hibiki glances at Amane. “I thought you said that Lord Kagura was hardly suited for your stage.”

Kagura lifts a brow. “Hey. I’m plenty suited for dancing.” He offers Hibiki his hand. “Shall we?”

Amane giggles, “Oh, I was just teasing, dear! Now, why don’t you take the gentleman’s hand and join me on the wondrous stage?”

Hibiki looks absolutely murderous as they reluctantly put their hand into Kagura’s. They lean in close and whisper, “I shall see that the Imperator hears of this, Lord Kagura.”

In return, Kagura whispers, “Worth it.”

[gwen-novella]

Ocean Eyes

Pairing: Ivar x female reader

Word count: 1.1K

Warnings: fluff, mentions of battle, mentions of pregnancy, un-beta’d writing

Summary: "It was a crystal kind of blue, calm and alluring, with so much depth that you’d be able to spot it anywhere… well not anywhere - it’d always be with him."

Author’s note: This story is based on "ocean eyes" by Billie Eilish and was requested here. The lyrics are italicized. This is my first song fic and surprisingly I am quite proud of it. Comments and reblogs make my day!

I've been watchin' you for some time

Can't stop starin' at those ocean eyes

Flashes of blue. That’s how it all started. You’d catch glimpses of it from across the camp, only subconsciously aware of the eyes darting over to watch you, even less so of the fact that your own were doing just the same. It was a crystal kind of blue, calm and alluring, with so much depth that you’d be able to spot it anywhere… well not anywhere - it’d always be with him.

Burning cities and napalm skies

Fifteen flares inside those ocean eyes

Your ocean eyes

It was after another raid, two men dragged another into your tent, heavily bleeding from his side, and laid him down the table. So busy gathering water, herbs and linen, you hadn’t noticed at all who they’d brought for you to heal, almost dropping all of your supplies the moment you turned and found that very same blue fixed on you. Though at that moment, with the chaos and violence of the battle still clouding his features, the blue was no longer calm, but stormy. Threatening to grasp and drown, to leave no part of you behind, should it ebb away.

No fair

You really know how to make me cry

When you gimme those ocean eyes

You were intimidated. After all, for all its beauty, the ocean certainly harbors many dangers, though you had a feeling you’d drown oh so willingly in Ivar. Getting to work, you were surprised by your blurring vision, fat droplets rolling down your cheeks and to your chin, from where they’d fall onto the man below. You had always been able to easily distance yourself from your patients pain, having sat through the screams of amputations and the likes of which without batting an eye, but once you saw the agony written so plainly on Ivars face, his eyes scrunched shut, hiding that breathtaking blue from you, there was nothing you could do to stop yourself.

I'm scared

I've never fallen from quite this high

Fallin' into your ocean eyes

And that terrified you, your hands trembling in the bowl you were washing his blood off of your arms in. Less than two hours had passed. Two hours in his presence was all it took for you to fall, to be certain that it wasn’t air keeping you alive - that you what you truly needed was to go under in the cerulean of Ivar gaze, forever cursed to only feel like you’re breathing when his water fills your lungs. When you made to leave, to get someone else to watch over him, Ivar called out for you to "Stay. Please", his eyes pleading and you unable to deny.

Those ocean eyes

I've been walkin' through a world gone blind

Can't stop thinkin' of your diamond mind

Conversation with Ivar was unlike anything you’d ever experienced. They say that the eyes are the window to one’s soul, granting a glimpse at what lies beneath, a reflection of ones thoughts, emotions and very being. If that was truly the case, you could only imagine the gods frustration whilst crafting Ivars. Some perhaps considering giving him diamonds for eyes, though ultimately settling for something more earthly, having Ægir* capture the oceans in two tiny orbs, in their best effort to portray the multifaceted nature that makes up Ivar.

Careful creature made friends with time

He left her lonely with a diamond mind

And those ocean eyes

He was reserved, but just like the inevitability of the flood returning after a tide, it seemed as though no force on earth could stop the strengthening of the bond between you and Ivar. You had thought that maybe once his wounds were healed, once he was free to join his brothers again on the last few remaining raids, that he would stray from you, but he always returned. Perhaps, he could no longer breathe without you either.

No fair

You really know how to make me cry

When you gimme those ocean eyes

Upon your return to Kattegat you’d both gotten so used to the other as a primary need, surely not even Odin could have separated you now. Navigating life with Ivar wasn’t always easy, calm waters at times replaced by stormy ripples, so intense you’d hear nothing other than the roaring of the crashing waves around you, but you always managed to lead each other safely back to shore.

I'm scared

I've never fallen from quite this high

Fallin' into your ocean eyes

The day you first told Ivar you loved him, you were as terrified as they day you almost lost him, before ever truly having him. But, like that day, there was nothing you could do to stop yourself, so you had let yourself fall… and landed safely in Ivar, his own confession surrounding you, welcoming you like the ocean on a hot summer day. The both of you were letting yourself drift, your love for one another enough to keep you afloat.

Those ocean eyes

No fair

You really know how to make me cry

When you gimme those ocean eyes

Now, looking down at the head resting on your lap, those eyes you adore more than anything else staring up into yours, you feel at peace. The blue supplying your lungs with the water they’ve grown so accustomed to. That is until Ivar walks up to where you’re sitting, the child on your lap excitedly cooing up at him, rising and walking on wobbly legs to his father.

I'm scared

I've never fallen from quite this high

Fallin' into your ocean eyes

You almost grow sad at the thought that your son is old enough to walk already, until your gaze settles on the bump of your stomach, remembering the Seers prophecy, that many more sons are to follow - seven in total. Studying the view in front of you, Ivar hugging little Iuar* to his chest, the beauty of their eyes only overshadowed by their radiant smiles, you’re reminded of the intuition you had so many years ago in your tent, smiling as it now rests confirmed: Yes, you’d oh so willingly drown in

Those ocean eyes

*Ægir is a jötunn and a personification of the sea in Norse mythology

*Iuar is an Old Norse variant form of Ivar

[lokiskitten]

Darling I loved adventurous trip soooo much - I thought that you maybe could do a second part where the deflowers the Reader? Or maybe he gives her first head? I am not sure you can choose 🥰 If not that’s also perfectly fine thank you

Tom Hiddleston | adventurous trippt2

Tom Hiddleston x fem!reader

plot : ( refer to part 1 ) after the eventful afternoon you guys spent together, you decide to offer Tom your virginity. He therefore takes the initiative to drive until a motel where you two decide to spend the night.

warnings : smut, age gap, kissing, deflowering, unprotected sex, breeding kink, intra!ejaculation.

Wind brushed through your hair as Tom drove onto one of the many isolated roads of Britain, his hand gently resting onto your thigh whilst the other one kept a firm grip of the steering wheel. A small smile had progressively formed on his lips, his sunglasses gracefully resting on top of his nose as he hummed along the song which played on the radio. Your childish self playfully stared out of the window, watching the landscapes that passed by and disappeared at a rather fast pace whilst enjoying the warmth Tom’s palm offered your upper thigh.

“I don’t want to go home.” You suddenly affirmed, catching the grown man’s attention as he took half a second to shoot you a simple look. He then looked back at the road, thumb rubbing against your clothed flesh. “We don’t have to. We can stop somewhere else for the night.” He answered reassuringly, earning joy from your tormented soul. Now, this was one of the reasons to why you loved him : he was always willing to participate in your unexpected change of plans. “That’d be lovely.” You responded, your hand now landing on top of his in order to accentuate the physical contact you desperately craved for.

This upcoming event managed to strike some confidence within your heart. If you had behaved shyly at first, the accumulation of physical contact and interactions easily led you to crave for more. You wanted Tom to be the first. “I want you to be the first.” You announced, earning an eyebrow raise from the older man who also stood as your best friend. He seemed surprised to hear such a thing, yet his rational heart also felt flattered that you were willing to offer him all of your trust by giving yourself to him. “Well..” He spoke lowly, clearing his throat in order to offer himself some extra time to think about all of this.

“Is it really what you want?” He ended up asking on a rather serious tone, which allowed you to guess that he was nowhere near being joking. Now, this made you shift in your seat as a layer of anxiety now took over your formerly confident mindset. Tom had managed to make you doubt due to his cold words. “Umh.. yes?” You responded hesitantly, fearing that this would also reduce the chances you had for the older man to believe you. “Mmh.” Groaned Tom as his vehicle penetrated into a random Motel’s parking lot. He stopped his car into one of the emplacements before turning off the engine, his body then turning towards yours as he was now able to focus his entire attention on your saddened self.

Instead of speaking up, the man unexpectedly began to caress your hair before bringing a few loose strands behind your ear. His thumb and index finger took a gentle hold of your chin in order to move your face towards his, ocean blue eyes making contact with your rather turned off self. “Hey..” he began calmly, wanting to slowly dip you into the subject. “You don’t owe me anything. You know that, right?” Tom questioned, earning an understanding nod from you. Never once had you thought that you owed your friend something, but it was probably better for him to see and understand it with his own eyes. “Right.” Tom finished before turning back around and reaching for the door handle.

He opened the door of the vehicle before stepping out of the car, anxiously looking around and seeking for random people passing by which he thankfully didn’t spot. Tom had always enjoyed peace, but also remained aware that motels didn’t necessarily have a good reputation. The last thing he wished was to put you in danger. You got out of the car as well, slamming the door shut after yourself before beginning to follow the grown man until the motel’s reception desk. It didn’t take long for the two of you to book a room for the night, which Tom generously agreed to pay by himself, before being handed the key to your temporary apartment.

The room was petty, and so was the decoration and global hygiene. Yet the fact that you would get to spend an entire night with your friend managed to make you forget about all of those irrelevant details. Tom dropped his jacket onto one of the chairs after he had taken care of closing the door behind your agitated silhouette. His body turned towards yours, mind remembering about what you’ve previously told him in the car. His hands traveled up to your cheeks which he rubbed with his thumbs, the man taking steps forward in order to make you automatically back away towards the bed. Tom looked right into your soul, yet without ever appearing intrusive nor inappropriate. In contrary, it all felt amazingly right.

His lips ended up pressing against yours again, offering you another taste of his flesh for the first time since you had put an end to your first intercourse back in the car. You allowed yourself to shyly kiss back as the back of your legs collided with the dirty mattress, a sensation which managed to pull you back into reality. Pulling away, Tom watched in awe as you took the initiative to lie down on the bed yourself, your head soon colliding with the stiff pillows whilst your friend took care of patiently removing your shoes. He allowed himself to pull off your sock, his lips offering your ankle a delicate kiss whilst his ocean blue eyes continued to stare at your face.

A smile then appeared on his lips as the grown man began to lower his silhouette in order to get on top of you, your hands reaching out for his shoulders which you held in a needy manner. If you hadn’t hold yourself back, whimpers could’ve easily been escaping your lips by now. You were desperate to receive more of him. Again, his mouth came in contact with your open lips- tongue slipping inside of your mouth in order to get a taste of your saliva. You enjoyed this brand new, warm and moist physical contact. Tom’s hips soon began to grind against yours, his cock hardening within his pants at the thought of getting to intimately discover your body in a couple of minutes.

Though you were usually considered as an overthinker, this new position managed to make you forget about anything which didn’t regard the upcoming matter. You could feel genuine love and passion burning through every single of Tom’s kisses, his large hands roaming your waist as his hips continued to happily collide with yours. The scent which erupted from his neck and overall silhouette was quite intoxicating- the man having done a great job when it came to choosing the right cologne. An eager moan came out of your mouth, catching Tom off guard and leading him to chuckle playfully.

His body hovered above yours, arms now holding him up so that his blue eyes would be able to make proper eye contact with you. “What was that?” He questioned ironically, obviously looking forward to ease the ambiance by teasing you. You hid your face behind your palms, smile appearing on your lips as Tom used one of his hands to move your arms away from your pretty face. The eye contact the two of you now engaged managed to make your heart melt, nothing but pure honesty reflecting in Tom’s ocean blue orbs. Anyone with a good instinct was easily able to feel if a specific person possessed negative intentions, and you could genuinely tell that your friend neared none of those bad thoughts.

“You’re beautiful.” He affirmed calmly, earning a head tilt from your shy self. You never truly knew how to properly react face to receiving an unexpected compliment. After taking a few seconds waiting for an answer, Tom decided to break the silence by beginning to go down on you, his large hand trailing down your thigh until he was kneeling in between your legs. His hands began to unbutton your jeans, which were then removed in order to allow the older man to praise your bare flesh. He lifted your leg up to his face, lips spraying rough kisses and gentle bites onto your inner thigh- moves which sent chills down your spine. You tilted your head back as your hands took a firm hold of the bedsheets.

Face to your positive reaction, a smirk appeared on Tom’s lips as his eyes were directed towards your face, lips still pressed against your skin as he progressively made his way towards your crotch. If you once felt intimidated by the thought of such an interaction, you couldn’t help but now want things to accelerate and accentuate. A few extra shy moans came out of your mouth upon sensing Tom’s nose near your clothed cunt, your genitals throbbing and soaking up underneath the comfortable cotton panties. One of your hands reached down for his shoulder, leading the man to look up at your exhilarated self. You were pulling onto his shirt- either suggesting for him to take it off or make his way back up to your upper body.

Being torn apart by doubt, Tom sat back up on his knees before beginning to unbutton his fancy shirt he once took off for you in the back of his vehicle. His defined abdominals were revealed to you yet again, your eyes still as pleased by this satisfying view. Smiling down at you, the man tossed the article of clothing away before leaning back down, lips colliding with yours in order to form a passionate kiss. You were now easily able to feel his hardened cock and that even through his pants, a sensation you couldn’t potentially get enough off and which sent your own genitals crazy. You were now desperately gripping onto his hair, wishing to install a little bit of extra heat within this already eager intercourse.

Tom obviously understood your signals as one of his hands traveled down until his pants which he began to undo, the other forearm keeping his body up above yours and making sure not to accidentally crush your smaller self. You looked down at his hurried action, your hands resting against your own chest as your eyes admired his perfectly veiny hands. In order to remain active as well, you ended up sitting up to remove your shirt, leaving yourself in nothing but your bra and comfortable panties. This was an initiative which visibly pleased the older man who barely just got done with unbuttoning and sliding off his trousers. As soon as he managed to get rid of his pants, the British gentleman was back at it again, more eager than ever.

His lips now praised your neck, the scent of your pheromones driving his own senses absolutely crazy. One of his hands dared to begin to massage your breast, offering it exactly the perfect amount of attention it needed and craved for. Your breath was shivery, and so was his. Tom was soon to begin a well deserved dry humping session, his hips eagerly colliding against yours as if he wanted you to get used to the upcoming interaction before it had even started. You moaned as you felt his warmth against your crotch, clit and lips throbbing out of need and envy face to such inviting manners.

“More..” you begged silently, eyes opening only to end up making contact with his. Tom smiled down at you, appreciating the way you seemed to be feeling more confident about the overall situation. “My fierce little girl..” he praised happily, his lips then pressing a kiss to your forehead. One of Tom’s hands slid down until his underwear which he pulled down, revealing his stiff member which you didn’t even bare to look at for now. Then, the grown man took a few steps back in order to remove your own panties, which were then tossed to the side like most of the pieces of clothing you once wore. Falling back down between your legs, an unexpected shiver ran down your spine as his warm tip collided with your clit.

Again, it was a brand new feeling you would surely get accustomed to, and which you would probably soon be begging for more of. But for now, anxiety had managed to take over your organism again. “It might hurt a little at first. The best you can do is relax, breath.” Tom explained reassuringly, not wishing for this upcoming sensation to take you off guard and potentially scare you for good. One of the male’s hands took ahold of your thigh, lifting it up against his hip and keeping it there whilst he began to line up with your sensitive entrance. Meanwhile, you calmly rested where you’ve been lying for a couple of minutes now whilst waiting for Tom to finally penetrate your cunt.

His tip ended up pushing inside of you at a slow pace, allowing your entrance to take the time it needed in order to stretch and accustom to his rather prominent size. A guttural groan escaped Tom’s lips upon finally feeling his cockhead being wrapped in your wetness, this sensation sending shivers down his spine and tickles within his own genitals. On another hand, you couldn’t help but wince silently in order not to offend your friend, your hands taking ahold of his shoulders for both physical and mental support. Thomas waited a couple of seconds before beginning to push himself further in, his girth breaking through your hymen which thankfully didn’t hurt one bit. It only felt as if something was stretching you out, but pain lacked.

Once he had finally reached balls deep, the calm adult looked down at you in order to spot potential facial expressions which could’ve betrayed the fact that you felt uncomfortable. He would obviously wait until these had eased up before he could begin to thrust in and out of you. The warm sensation of his balls pressed against your ass managed to pull you out of your negative thoughts, as it was a small add up indeed but which still managed to bring joy to your lustful heart. Your cunt couldn’t help but unintentionally contract around his member, leading Tom to wince every time your walls squeezed and got tighter against your will. It was a pleasuring feeling, but which also made the man crave for more.

After waiting for a couple of long seconds, Tom took the initiative to move out of your tight self, earning fainted hisses from you which progressively faded away the more his hips thrusted against and away from your crotch. Thankfully for the two of you, the minor previous foreplay had managed to soak you up perfectly- which obviously made it less painful for you than it could’ve been. You were now fully able to enjoy the beginning intercourse, your arms wrapping around Tom’s neck and pulling him closer to your desperate silhouette. Your eyelids closed, your brain seeking for extra concentration through this sexual interaction. Never once you had thought it could feel that good, and even less with a man who was twice your age. To be frankly honest, you hadn’t truly questioned the matter until today.

Tom moaned against your ear, his gutteral groans sending chills down your spine and shockwaves of pleasure through your crotch. Your entrance continued to occasionally contract around his thick girth, making the overall interaction even more enjoyable for the older man who was seeking intense sensations. You absolutely loved feeling his warmth against yours, the way his smooth skin would rub against your flesh in such a nice manner. You absolutely didn’t regret trusting him through this scary process, and you were now rewarded for your boldness and courage. The bedhead rocked against the wall as Tom thrusted in and out of you, hips rolling against yours in divine manner. None of you could potentially care nor even think about the neighbors’ tranquility at the moment, as you were too intoxicated by the ongoing intercourse to pay attention to your surroundings.

Thomas unexpectedly bit down onto your neck, teeth taking a gentle hold of your flesh as if the man wished to make you his, to mate, tame and claim you as his. As primal as it could appear, you enjoyed it. Besides, your heart now irrevocably belonged to him, which left no room for another man, or woman, to steal your devoted attention. His thrusts were now getting sloppier, exhausted pants exiting Tom’s lips as his hands moved underneath your back before taking ahold of your shoulders- probably in order to keep you in place when he would finally come. Again, you managed to bump into this rather primal side of his through small details such as this one. However, before you could think any further, you suddenly and unexpectedly felt a warm substance fill up your hole, staining your walls with heat and lust. Had he just..?

Seemingly satisfied moans escaped Tom’s lips as his hips remained tightly pressed against yours, balls twitching as they sent warm sperme shooting through his sensitive urethra which remained locked with your cervix. If there was a chance for you not to get pregnant, your friend had just wiped it off the list. The grown man moved up, face looking down at your crotch as he pulled out of you. “Ohhh... fuck.” He moaned, cum soon beginning to flow out of your twitching entrance. Now, this was an extremely delicious sight to the man who had a breeding kink- and who enjoyed admiring his good work. His thumb traveled up to your clit which he began to rub and tease; once again sending shockwaves of pleasure through your crotch. Your entrance contracted unwillingly, leading more semen to squirt out of your exhausted and sweaty self.

And I am back 😏 I hope you guys enjoyed this! Lots of love for all of you!! Thank you so much for the support and for 700 followers!!

[kohakuarisaka]

Untamed (chapter 3 of 5)

Takami Keigo x (fem!)Reader

[ SUMMARY ] Every year, without fail, Hawks went into a rut: when autumn began, and then again in early spring. He would honker down up north in a secluded cabin. For the first time, he brought you with him.

[ WARNINGS ] R18+ for graphic sexual content and language. Non-canon compliant: Hawks’ quirk does not work like this. Reader is a hero that works at Hawks agency. Pre-existing relationship. Reader is a female with female genitalia. Feral behavior. Rutting. Biting. Spanking. Slight BDSM. Consensual sex. Wing kink. Oral sex. Romantic relationship.

Chapter 1 • Chapter 2 • Chapter 3 • Chapter 4 • Chapter 5

[ My BNHA Fanfic Masterlist ] ~ [ Also on my AO3 ]

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"Baby," a voice cooed at you while hands gently shook your shoulders, stirring you from sleep.

"Come on. Get up. The sun's gonna be rising soon," he continued, speaking to you softly.

You groaned like a wounded animal and tried to resist the pull to consciousness, hoping you could slip back away and he would cease this assault.

Of course, that didn't happen, and the murmuring and shaking didn't come to an end. You found yourself turning around and groggily taking in the sight of Hawks. He already looked wide awake, gold eyes beaming, skin glowing, handsome face as immaculate as ever.

It made you want to punch him.

"Get up," he said, more so telling than asking, albeit politely.

He had warned you last night that he intended to wake you early; but, that didn't stop you from groaning tiredly, rolling over, as if in protest, before complying with his request, removing the blanket slowly, afraid to expose yourself to the cold.

He had stoked the fireplace before waking you; that much was clear, seeing as it wasn't blistering cold when you wiggled out of bed. It was chilly, of course, but not enough to leave you trembling helplessly.

You realized that Hawks had already dressed himself, boots thumping quietly on the floor as he stepped around the bed. He had slipped on a grey T-shirt, and didn't seem to be feeling cold at all, judging by the lax way he rolled his shoulders, wings jutting out from his back gracefully.

He gave you a sideways glance, an almost untrusting look written across his face.

"I'm getting up!" you hissed at him.

Hawks wasn't expecting that sudden outburst and flinched a little, eyes widening slightly and feathers shuddering behind him. It was a comical sight, if you were being honest. It wasn't like him to be so high strung.

Before you could assume you had upset him, Hawks blew raspberries and turned away, heading for the stairs.

When he walked away, you most certainly did not admire the way his cargo pants hugged his ass, nor the way his shirt was pulled tight across the plains of his muscular back, nor how his crimson feathers looked so beautiful draped behind him.

Hawks didn't laugh when you met him downstairs; but, he sure looked like he wanted to. Here he was wearing some loose, comfortable clothes like it hadn't snowed all night, while you were dressed up in thick pants and a heavy coat with multiple layers underneath, ready to weather the elements.

As soon as you stepped downstairs, you were hit with the familiar smell of coffee lofting about the cabin. You recognized the aroma as his favorite, the one he stockpiled at the agency, that was almost always coming from his office.

He had taken the time to pour you some, as well, evident by the mug he was trying to hand to you with a suspiciously innocent look on his face.

"Seriously?" you laughed when you eyed the receptacle he was offering.

It was his merch, clearly. The mug was black with sparkly gold trim, the pattern matching the chest on his jumpsuit . It was covered in comic book style quotation marks containing, what you were guessing, was supposed to be his quotes.

Hawks watched you admire the cup, looking a little too smug for his own good, and returned to sipping from the very plain mug in his other hand.

"Do you really say these things?" you laughed, not expecting an answer because there was no way such nonsense flew from his mouth in the middle of a fight.

"Aheh. 'I am speed'," you read aloud with a scoff. "More like, 'I do speed'," you teased with a grin, catching the way he almost choked on his coffee, shoulders trembling with laughter.

"Who the hell approved these?" you added on.

"The hero commission, I think," Hawks replied, shrugging his shoulders a little.

The coffee, of course, tasted great. He bought the expensive, high-class stuff, after all. Hawks was the only person you knew who could sleep in the dirt with his visor skewed across his face, without a complaint to be had, but refused to drink anything but imported, specially grown coffee beans.

He was ushering you out the door the second you were finished with your coffee, pushing you out into the snowy forestscape, hands grabby and wings fluttering anxiously.

Before you could shudder and complain about the cold, Hawks scooped you up into his arms, kicked the door shut with the heel of his boot, and took to the sky.

You couldn't believe he was out here without a jacket on. Your fully covered arms clung to him for dear life, shivering and trembling in the cold. He wasn't flying particularly fast; but, the winds felt punishing, ice cold biting at your cheeks and seeping in through your clothes.

You were too cold to really appreciate the beauty of the forest covered in freshly poured snow. The glistening, white peaks sparkled like something out of a fairytale in the dimly lit morning light.

"Come on, babe," Hawks cooed, turning his head to blow hot air right on your ear.

Well, no wonder he wasn't cold. It seemed to make sense to you, then, why he went into his rut during these times of the year. He was generating enough heat to be a transportable furnace.

"If you keep clinging to me like that, you're gonna miss the view," Hawks uttered, so close that his lips moved against your skin as he spoke.

You peeled back from him, away from the warmth you were desperately trying to steal. He hadn't stopped flying yet, but slowed down a bit.

"O-oh..." you whispered, taking in the snowy wilderness.

A few miles past the cabin's backyard was a cliff that dipped down into rolling mountains. He had flown overhead, granting a wonderful view of the many acres of untouched wilderness, towering trees and lush forest landscape over rolling hills and mountains.

But, Hawks hadn't dragged you out here at the crack of dawn just to see the snowy landscape. He wanted you out here right at sunrise for a very specific reason.

He had made it just in time for the sun to peak out from the horizon line, like a giant glimpsing through the trees on the mountain top.

The sun was shining a mystical light across the mountains. The overcast clouds were dark purple gliding across crystal clear, blue skies. Rays of red sunlight glided through the trees while gold laid out across the piles of snow like a glistening blanket.

"See?" Hawks murmured, his flight coming to a halt.

He hovered, fairly high up, wings flapping gently, arms still wound tight around you, holding you close. There was a gentle breeze brushing through his hair, causing the feathery strands to tickle at your cheeks.

While you were looking at the landscape in awe, he was staring at you. The sunlight lit up your face and reflected heavily on your eyes, making them glow like crystal orbs. You had finally stopped shivering, too in awe at the sight to notice the chilling bite of the wind.

He didn't say it aloud; but, the most beautiful thing in the sunrise was you.

He liked to tell himself that the rut was making him mushy, emotional. Surely, powerful pro-hero Hawks couldn't be this soft? But, he knew his rut was only amplifying what he already felt so strongly.

His rut made him less inhibited, surfaced darker, feral desires that lay in waiting under layers of discipline he had spent most of his life building.

Even without his rut, you had a power over him he couldn't deny, the power to break him, to peel back the masks he wore, to melt away his self-control, until he was reduced to a desperate animal.

Oh, but the beauty of it all was that you loved that side of him. You had proved to him that you loved every side of him, even the parts that he tried so desperately hard to ensure would never see the light of day.

Even if he could blame his desires on his mutation, that didn't change that he was an assassin, for heroes, yes, but a murderer none the less.

You-

-you knew that, and yet, still, those soft hands held him as if he was untainted. You purred beneath his touch as if those weren't the same hands he had used to kill.

"Keigo?" you hummed.

Just like that, there you were again, freeing him from the torment of his own mind, a lifeline to free him from drowning in the ocean.

"Thank you for this," you uttered, turning your head to look at him.

God, he was beautiful. His gold irises were amplified by the sunlight, like shiny coins in a wishing well, taking in the sight of you shamelessly.

The bird-like curve of his eyelids already gave him a mystical appearance, now further illuminated by the rays of light shining down from above. The wind was blowing, tossing his already frazzled hair in a senseless dance.

The bright red plumes that made up the shape of his wings looked like something out of a dream. In the sunlight, the feathers glowed magnificent crimson, glowing in sharp contrast to the pale white, wintery landscape.

Your hands, that had been gripping his shoulders during the flight, wove up the back of his neck, fingertips touching the trimmed hairs there. You felt his hands tighten where they were holding you, his arms weaving tighter, as if he could get you closer.

"Do you like it here?" Hawks uttered softly.

His tone concerned you a little, as if he was sincerely worried that you were a prisoner here.

You smiled, replying, "it's the first time we've gotten to truly be alone. I'm enjoying myself more than you think."

His gaze softened at your words. A couple of your fingers played with the soft, short hairs at the top of his neck. He felt unbearably warm there, skin slightly damp with sweat. It was startling, considering how cold it was outside.

You felt the soft brush of his lips and let your eyes flutter shut. He was slow, careful, like he was tasting something new and delicious for the first time.

When he pulled back and tilted his head, you felt the faintest drag of his chin across your cheek, felt the fine hairs of his beard tickle your skin.

He hadn't shaved in a couple weeks, leaving you to see him in a mess than most didn't get the honor of. The normally neatly trimmed hairs he shaved down to a fine patch on his chin were now covering most of his jawline, the same beautiful, pale blonde as the hair on his head.

Tantalized, you leaned in, nuzzling your cheek against his jaw, before tilting your head back and feeling the drag of his soft beard against your skin. It felt good, maybe a little too good, and you failed to suppress a quiet gasp.

When you had pulled back far enough to catch his gaze, you immediately realized his eyes had changed. The calm was gone; now, something akin to a storm was brewing underneath.

It was a look you were very familiar with.

He let out a low exhale, as if he had been holding his breath. Your name fell from his lips, low and sultry, a warning, or a curse, and it made you shudder.

Hawks tilted back suddenly and started a sharp decent downward. Having flown together many times, you weren't afraid. The arms around his shoulders tightened and you let out a soft gasp, but more so out of surprise than fear.

His wings fanned out and took him sharply soaring through the trees at a speed much faster than he had brought you here. His grip on you was almost painfully tight, as if his fingers were trying to dig past the fabric of your clothes to get to your skin.

Excitement made you forget about the biting cold, the forest around you distorted almost violently. Suddenly, the cabin door was creaking and then being slammed shut. You hadn't even seen the cabin come into view. Everything felt like a daze.

He flew up to the loft and dropped you unceremoniously at the edge of the bed. The tumble had resulted in you facing away from him; but, you could feel his eyes burning through you.

"Take off your clothes," Hawks commanded, his voice oddly polite despite the nature of his request.

Just as soon as you started working your jacket off, he was kneeling to pull at the laces on your boots. He was strangely gentle when he pulled your shoes off, less so when he tossed them aside. As you worked your shirt off, he pulled your pants and underwear down in one fell swoop, leaving you mostly bare and cold.

You rotated around and leaned up on your elbows, catching his cold stare, indicating that you were not done yet. You peeled your socks off, feeling a rush of excitement at the look he was giving you.

Hawks usually wore a kind, harmless face, not that it was unnatural, for he truly was a good person. However, most could easily forget or be blind to how powerful he was.

Now, in his gold eyes, that was what you saw, the reality that he could take whatever he wanted, when he wanted. You didn't have to be reminded, for every sparring and training session did just that: you couldn't best him if your life depended on it.

Still, Hawks wasn't that kind of person. He was the kind of loved, often times so passionately that you feared you couldn't keep up.

Even now, when his hands took hold of your waist, his body language dominating, wings spread wide behind him, you felt loved.

An amused sound, like a hum, rumbled out of his chest as he carefully maneuvered you around.

You were compliant, letting him roll you around and push your chest down into the bed. The hand on your back was gentle, but commanding, fingers splayed wide in the space between your shoulder blades.

Instead of nudging your thighs with his hands, a boot-clad toe poked between your ankles, commanding you to spread your legs, which you did with a low moan. You leaned up on your toes, presenting to him like an animal.

The sight threatened to send him into a spiral, and you felt his clothed body fall over you, pushing you down into the bed.

His wings flapped once, sending a sharp gust of wind spiraling around the room. There was a painfully obvious contrast between the soft texture of his shirt and the rough texture of his pants.

He made it very clear, with a roll of his hips, that he was ready to take you. The feeling of his clothed erection against your sex, combined with the knowledge that he could just slip right in without preamble, had you mewling.

"You like this," Hawks observed, the words like thunder as they rolled off his tongue.

He retreated, suddenly reeling back and standing behind you, warmth leaving along with him.

"You like when I just take?" he asked, accentuating 'take' with a smack to the back of your thigh. It wasn't hard enough to hurt, but it did manage to startle a yelp out of you.

"Yeah," he uttered lowly, agreeing with his own observations. "You like being Hawks' little plaything," he continued, almost purring the words.

Your delirious brain didn't really know what to expect next. When you heard a thump, you had no idea what to make of it, until you felt breath on your skin and realized that was the sound of Hawks' falling onto his knees behind you.

He didn't waste any time diving in, lapping a heavy tongue across your slit, from top to bottom. His hands gripped your thighs, keeping you still while his tongue breached your entrance.

If his enthusiasm and lack of grace wasn't enough, the rumbling sound he made was enough to make it obvious he liked it.

You couldn't fathom that your taste could possibly be that good; however, you didn't dare comment, especially not when he was doing things with his tongue that shouldn't be humanly possible.

A rough smack to your behind startled you from a delirious daze of pleasure. You yelped quietly, but otherwise remained compliant. When he smacked you again, this time growling faintly into your sex, it was clear he wanted something that you weren't delivering; but, you didn't know what.

"K-Keigo, what-" you whined, breaking off into a howl when he smacked you again.

Normally, such a touch would have you instinctively shriveling away; however, his grip on you was tight, and it kept you still.

Hawks smacked you again, you helplessly cried out, again, and the sound faded into moans that you couldn't possibly contain with what he was doing. You started to wonder, when another smack was delivered, if he was just doing that for his own amusement.

Eventually, he stopped and leaned back, rising to his feet. His hand slid over yours, large palm practically swallowing yours, and guided it back to your sex. You rotated a little, angling your body to follow his movement.

"Feel that," he gently commanded. "How wet and warm you are for me."

You heard the floorboard creak as he leaned back, clearly to get a good view. You did as he requested, immediately driving two fingers into yourself. Sure enough, you were slippery, walls compliant and squishy, and unbelievably warm inside.

Being ready for him with little provocation wasn't exactly a new thing. You were both very busy heroes and keeping your relationship on the downlow. That meant quickies more often than proper time together.

Yet, Hawks sounded immensely pleased; with himself or with you, you couldn't quite tell.

He returned to the floor, hand brushing your knuckles to push your fingers in as deep as they could go.

"Keigo, what are you-" you began, cutting off when his tongue returned to your heat, right alongside your fingers.

"Finger yourself," he told you, sounding oddly blissful despite the fact that you hadn't touched him at all. His cock was still trapped inside his pants, throbbing against the rough material.

You complied with his request, lacking in any grace or proper friction considering the awkward angle. However, Hawks groaned in approval at the view before leaning back in.

His tongue dipped in right alongside your digits. Immediately, he forced the pace and you were desperate to try and keep up, fingers squelching in and out of your core alongside the slobbery mess of his tongue.

Your fingers couldn't compare, lacking in the length, thickness and dexterity of his digits. But, it seemed that Hawks was less focused on getting you off and more focused on playing with you; or, maybe, you had severely underestimated what the taste of your essence was doing to him.

At some point, he pulled back, grabbed your wrist to remove your fingers from your core, and sucked them into his own mouth. You weren't expecting the teeth, and let out a low hiss when his fangs threatened to pierce the skin, holding you firmly in place while his tongue sucked your fingers clean.

He didn't release your hand when he was done. You heard the floorboards creak as he stood up, felt him tug your hand down, until your knuckles brushed his clothed cock.

"You want that?" Hawks breathed.

His free hand gently spread over the space between your shoulder blades, pushing you down before you could dare think to lean up. Your cheek was resting against the sheets, hair spewed about in a mess. His hand wandered, pushing hair out of the way until your neck and shoulders were properly exposed.

From where you laid on the bed, you couldn't make out the sight of him; but, you could see one of his wings, stretched out, looming predatorily.

"Yes," you replied hoarsely.

His hand glided over the prominent bump where your first vertebrae jutted from the top of your spine, and lowered, setting between your shoulder blades once more, where he held you still.

"Then, take it," Hawks uttered, his other hand releasing your wrist.

You let out a low hiss, wanting to curse him for making such a ridiculous request. You couldn't see his face; but, you sure as hell could feel the smirk he was wearing as he stared at you, watching your handle fumble with his belt.

You doubted it was mercy; but, Hawks leaned in closer, the tops of his thighs sliding over the backs of yours, making it a little easier to undo his belt buckle.

The button on his pants followed, but not with ease, before you tugged his zipper down. You couldn't tug his pants down like this, leaving you to fumble around with his boxers, trying to fish his cock out.

"Keigo, you fucking ass-" you growled, not bothering to hide your frustration.

Hawks laughed softly, sounding a little more out of it than he did amused. "'m sorry," he cooed. "-like seein' you struggle."

The slur in his voice should have given it away, his patience had depleted; however, it still surprised you when he suddenly swatted your hand away. He hooked his thumb on the hem of his boxers and pulled them down just enough for his cock to bob free.

You felt the smooth tip nudge at your entrance, the faintest warning, before he pushed forward and entered your moist heat.

"Ohhhh fuck," Hawks howled.

He gave you no time to become accustomed to the sudden intrusion, immediately pistoning his hips back and forth, driving his cock in and out of you.

One hand pinned your torso, while his thighs pinned your legs, and his other hand gripped your hip for leverage. You shifted your feet, trying to lift up on your toes to better the angle, and bumped against his boots.

He was still fully clothed; and, really, that shouldn't have mattered so much. After all, how many times had he freed his cock from his jumpsuit to take you quick and hard before tucking it back in and immediately looking as if nothing nefarious had occurred. Yet, still, the realization had you feeling dizzy.

Before you could nudge a hand between your thighs, something beat you to it. You recognized that bizarre texture. It was soft, sure, but a tad bit pricklier than a normal feather, with an unnatural, firm touch. The little heathen knew exactly how you liked to be touched there, too.

The wet, lewd noises of your union, skin slapping together, was drowned out by the litany of moans pouring from his mouth. If he wasn't crying out in ecstasy, he was huffing and puffing like he had just ran a marathon.

If you were being honest, he was being just a little too rough, a little too fast, offering you no reprieve. You didn't doubt that he would stop if you asked him to; but, you sure as hell didn't want him to. The intensity of it all had you on a plain of existence you rarely got to experience, where pleasure became blinding and mind-numbing.

His hand slid off your back and onto the bed, grabbing a fistful of the sheets as he set a brutal pace, the kind that threatened to unravel your sanity.

"Fuck! You feel so fucking good," he growled, sounding so out of breath and lost. "Gonna fill you up. Yeah, I am. Want my seed dripping out of you all fucking week."

High off the pleasure, and maybe a little influenced by his own state, you moaned approvingly at the suggestion.

"Baby," he whined, suddenly sounding like he was in pain. The feather fluttering against your pearl intensified, practically vibrating against you with how fast it was moving.

"Need you come, need you to come," Hawks pleaded, the words hissing out from his lips between desperate pants.

You didn't think you could come in that moment. Everything felt so good, from his cock rearranging your insides to his feather flicking at your clit. The pleasure was tingling down your thighs and crawling up your spine. You could barely breathe, let along process a coherent thought beyond Keigo.

The hand that had been holding your hip let go and joined the other in gripping the bed. He arched over you, forehead meeting your back.

"Come for me, come for me," Hawks sobbed.

You realized then, as he trembled behind you, that he had reached his own completion, and he didn't slow down until his orgasm waned. You could feel his seed, like molten lava as it filled your insides.

Hawks was still panting when he growled, "again."

He flipped you over, winding your legs over his waist and somehow managing to keep his cock seated inside of you during the transition. Your arms flopped uselessly above your head. You felt weak, laying there like a doll while he turned you over. Still, it felt good: his cock, his hands, his warmth.

One of his arms looped beneath your lower back and tugged you properly onto the bed. He climbed onto the sheets and followed, dragging you beneath him.

He was prepared to continue thrusting into you wildly and blindly chase another orgasm when your eyes met and he froze up. You could practically see him blink away delirious arousal, the sight of your debauched face bringing him back to his senses.

"B-baby, do you need me to stop?" Hawks offered, the words falling from his lips so weakly.

You huffed out a weak breath and reached for him. He leaned down, letting you wind your arms across his shoulders. Your fingers dipped across his clothed back until you reached his wings.

Hawks literally shouted when your fingers dipped into the exposed seams on the shirt and touched the baby feathers growing fresh from his back. The sound rattled your bones and made you jerk from the startle.

He didn't have to be told twice, obviously, for Hawks continued his thrusting immediately. The slippery, wet sounds of his claim over your body was downright disgusting, and you loved it. Your legs clung desperately to his hips, heels digging into the backs of his thighs.

One of his feathers was still pressed against your clit, now trapped between your bodies. It had stopped moving; but, every time he thrust back into you, it created delicious friction.

Your assault on his wings rendered Hawks incapable of speech. The pleasured sounds he made was almost unnatural. If you didn't know any better, you would have thought he was in pain between the broken, blabbering moans and choked, sharp gasping.

His arms were still wound beneath you, holding onto you for leverage and clinging to you so closely, so tightly, it was almost crushing. His wings were arched up high, flapping occasionally as if to increase the momentum behind his thrusts.

His face fell into your throat, forcing your head back into the sheets. He was burning hot, practically oozing sweat. In the corner of your eye, you could see the red tint staining his ears. You could practically feel his frustration gnawing its way through his body and into yours.

Without warning, you felt what couldn't be mistaken for anything other than Hawks' teeth piercing the skin of your neck. Sure, he had bit you before, even left faint hickies on occasion; however, this was something else entirely, and forced a scream from your throat.

You had no doubt he had pierced the skin, judging by how it burned. He was growling into the skin, holding onto you with his teeth as if you were attempting to flee. You didn't dare release his wings, fingers woven through the fine plumes, caressing the sensitive skin of his shoulder blades, where crimson feathers grew.

The bite hurt, without a doubt, but there was no denying the electrical shocks of pleasure it sent through your body. If it wasn't that, then it was the growls vibrating from his mouth onto your skin.

Suddenly, your orgasm hit, and left you screaming and gasping with a sort of ferocity you didn't think you were capable of. Something that sounded almost like his name fell from your lips at some point. Your back arched and your legs trembled where they rested around his hips.

You failed to realize he was following closely behind you. Your grip on his feathers had gone limp and you didn't notice the way his wings arched up, the tips of the longest quills nearly touching the ceiling. He kept going and going, until he was spent and your cries of ecstasy came to a halt.

Hawks let go of your throat and leaned up, removing his arms from beneath you to set his palms on the sheets. He should have felt embarrassed or ashamed or something. But, looking down at the bleeding bite wound on your shoulder, watching the way your chest heaved with heavy breaths, seeing the tint of red along your cheeks and neck, he felt blissfully proud.

Hawks scooped you into an embrace and carefully rolled onto his side, bringing you in with him and cradling you against his chest. One of his wings fell over you, the plumes stretched wide to hide you from the outside world. All you could see was him, his handsome face, the crimson feathers of his wings.

You were acutely aware that he was still inside you, still somewhat hard; but, his temperature was lowering and his breathing was steadily returning to normal. Your fingers untangled from his plumes and came around to rest limply on his chest.

He lapped his tongue softly against the bite wound until it stopped bleeding before peppering it with kisses. It stung a little and you squirmed in his grasp.

"I'm not sorry about the bite," Hawks confessed lowly, leaning back to look at your face.

"Me either," you replied, offering him a weak smile.

He looked blissfully unaware until you leaned in and sucked some of the skin of his neck into your mouth. Hawks groaned approvingly, laying still until you were satisfied and let go, leaving behind a faint, purple bruise.

You stared at his handsome face, watching the vibrant, red blush slowly leave his features as he calmed down. Blonde locks were clinging to his sweat soaked forehead and everything between the two of you reeked of sex. Yet, you couldn't bring yourself to complain when he looked so damn happy.

Hawks leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss against yours lips. Before he could retreat, you tilted your head and leaned in, not letting him escape. He hummed into the kiss, letting you lead until you were content and departed with a wet smack.

"Just a little bit longer," he promised, fingers gently digging into your back.

"Tell me what you're thinking," you requested, nuzzling your nose against his.

Something uncertain flickered in his gold eyes and his lids narrowed slightly.

"It's not sensical," he uttered lowly, and you felt one of his hands slide around to your front. His thumb lovingly brushed along the dip of your tummy, beneath your belly button. His gold eyes shifted down, staring at the expansion of your naval with dedication.

You both had implants. It wasn't going to happen. He knew that. Of course he did. But, he couldn't help but feel dedicated to commit to the effort, as if it would.

Your hand followed his, spreading over his fingers to press him down gently over your lower abdomen, as if this would be successful, as if there was a chance he would take. The encouragement to put him ease.

Hawks wanted to believe it was the rut talking. Some of it was, his body deliriously driven to mate, to the point that he overheated and arousal pained his core. But, his motivation wasn't purely biological. It was because it was you, whom he trusted with every fiber of his being.

But, he couldn't bring himself to tell you that. You loved being a hero, and he wasn't going to take that from you.

It felt special, being hidden with him like this, beneath his wing, whispering such depravities to one and other, that the rest of the world would never know. You felt safe, in a way that felt impossible. Here, as irrational as it sounded, you felt like Hawks could protect you from the world.

[yostresswritinggirl]

Seers' Miscellany

Prologue: Origins of the first bloom

A circular fic for the Dainsleif mini-series I'll be working on. This will be the introduction; of the evanescent bough keeper of the new world. "Observers of the North do not usually wind up in personal business, but when they do, in their wake comes great shifting of the plates of the timelines." Logs of the stag and the delicate flower.

Pairings -> Dainsleif x Reader; Reader is NOT Traveler

Word Count -> 1579

Themes -> Pretty sad, but also fluffy

Chapters -> 1

Warnings -> Story progression takes a while, oh dear why am I doing this now, I'm so busy

"500 mora; and three answered questions."

He's not really sure what lead him to indulge the requests of a simple adventurer when he made his rounds around the city of freedom. Was it the simple need for currency? It couldn't be, he was better off with other commissions that Katheryne could offer.

Was it the desperation in your voice and eyes? You looked at him like a prophet, your only salvation, and perhaps in this context that may be true. You were but a lone adventurer and the way your weight leans heavier on one foot shows your struggle to those who have keen eyes like him, no other person wished to indulge your needs and you were getting desperate.

Or was it the three questions? Dainsleif have yet to hear such contractual obligations before, but it felt as tho it was the most important part of the agreement he took the moment you pleaded with that soft voice. Humble yet resolved, not letting him walk away without at least considering it once.

And so he found himself traversing the land of the wolves through a dangerous path, where you skip ahead with a gait of happiness, bubbly and energetic enough to surpass even his long legs. You hummed without consideration at the glee of finally having a companion, and he did not mind it at the slightest despite the attention it may bring upon your little party.

"First question," Dainsleif fleeted his gaze away from the horizon to turn to you whom slowed your pace to match his, head looking over your shoulder with a wide grin. "How are you?" So innocent.

He huffs in amusement, the most emotion you've seen of him. "You don't need to waste a contract question for such a simple question, you know," he stands behind you as you crouch down on a shrubbery filled with Wolfhooks. Your main objective for visiting Wolvendom in the first place.

You assured him that you meant your question in every way possible as your hands carefully pick at the herbs, wary of the thorns and the intrusive prickly leaves. Despite your attention turned away from him he knows you await his answer. Dainsleif hums to himself and stops—

How is he? What does he truly feel in this moment of his time?

A simple question yet risked for one of the three inquiries agreed upon definitely holds a deeper meaning. His train of spiraling thoughts halts upon the sound of otherwordly grunts and chants as he turns away from your still busy form (you seem very focused on your foraging) to find three Hilichurls approaching with ill intent.

Dainsleif squints at the impending threat before shooting a final glance to make sure you weren't looking. His arm glows blue as he raises it, power in the form of blue swirling mist surges around him - how are you? The feeling brings him back to vague memories of his past, of the energy rising through him at his expeditions with an old companion, of the thrill spent upon encountering the unexpected. Such thoughts are not vivid but the familiarity of what he is experiencing right now was enough for him.

Though he was sure that there were no camps before they went through this route.

"You asked me how I am," he spoke when you finally turned from the bush with an armful of Wolfhooks on your arsenal, confusion on your face at the sight of downed Hilichurls and the side profile of the bough keeper.

His cerulean eyes were fixated at his left hand that he repeatedly closes and opens for a few seconds, before he fully turns to you (your eyes did not miss the blue glow from underneath his cape, where his right arm should be) with a wisp of a smile, "I feel alive right now."

You reciprocated the gesture with a wide grin, "I'm glad to hear that!"

A majority of the wolfhooks gathered where given to the little Botanist Chloris, the seller of flowers, who looked relieved and ecstatic upon your arrival. Something Dainsleif took great notice of. Carefully handing over the berries and some which you had to pluck singularly from your companion's flowy cape, the little girl gave you her Valberries in exchange.

It was sweet and familiar, something Dainsleif took note as he accepted your offer of the fruit despite his none need for sustenance.

Your little chewing sounded through as you two settled on the humble camp you managed to setup with your supply for a single individual. There was a little hole in the middle for a campfire Dainsleif had made the effort to prepare knowing the coldness the night will bring soon enough, and your fragile form is not something he wishes to bargain now. Is that really the reason? Perhaps in the back of his mind, he was really just working on forgotten routines.

"Second question," his footstep at the edge of the camp halts as he turns once again, where you sat on the mat as tonight's bedding, hands flicking to remove the stray juices of the berries. He stood still in wait before he goes back to his mini mission of getting fire wood.

"Go on," he urged when you stood a minute longer in silence.

"Do you like traveling, Dain?" Easy enough, he simply said yes and left when you ended the conversation with a nod.

When he came back with the wood and tinder bundle for easy spreading, out of the corner of his eye he watched your hands work on the mortal and pestle as you grinded the remaining wolfhooks on your person. The fire started the moment he was done setting up the kindling and your face filled with admiration at the sudden and immediate spark, praising him for his quick work.

Dainsleif is both talkative and not, and at times he finds himself rambling to the wind. The moments of the night passed without much details until he found himself talking about his past adventures with his old companion, of the world they've seen together and the now estranged relationship between them.

His responses were sometimes cryptic unintentionally, and he apologizes when there are things about it that he couldn't answer simply because he could not remember. When silence struck after he finished his tales and meal, the beautiful spike in his eyes found yours gleaming despite the drowsiness pulling at your whole feature.

"I'm glad you're very fond of traveling. If not, I wouldn't have met you," and he wouldn't have taken the commission. Dainsleif's eyes flashed in recognition, finally understanding the meaning behind your second question. Somehow this little commission deal turned into a silent back and forth quip of him understanding past your simple inquiries.

Like a little game he muses on with his curious mind.

That night you rested with the extra comfort of his eccentric cape, something you needed more than him as he gazes over the clear night sky. His eyes silently traced the galaxy of stars while the sound of your whispered breathing accompanies his sleepless night.

The last question and that last of your very quick expedition came the next day at the cliffside overlooking the lair sealed by winds.

Your fingers were dusted by the violet paste of grinded wolfhooks long consumed the night prior, stained fingers gripping the thin and fragile stem of the yellow dandelion in its grasp. It was his great observation that let him realize the disaster that happened now but even his foresight could not prepare him for what has to come.

"Third question," his head snapped down to watch your ethereal face don a calm smile, the sun's setting light kissing your cheeks in the right angle that matched that of the clean clouds above. Your eyes silently questioned his unfocused gaze but he only shook his head.

Don't worry about it. "I know this last question would end the commission with you," your voice trembled in both fear and fatigue but Dainsleif didn't force you to preserve your strength like he should. "But I wanted to ask, maybe tomorrow again,

do you want to be my traveling companion?"

The hand that clutched the Dandelion found it way to the side of his mask, the petals brushing against his eyelids as he looks down at you with an eye. A ghost of a smile lingers on his lips as he leans on your hand.

"It would be my pleasure."

Life momentarily flashed over your orbs before you let out a sharp exhale and a breathless, joyous laughter. Relief overtook the tension that laid on your shoulders, and your hand would have dropped to the ground immediately if he had not gripped it on the last second.

"That sounds good. I've always wanted to travel the world," he pulls the cape closer around your form as your eyelids droop to a close. And he witness another breathe, "It was supposed to be today, but I feel really tired today, I'll rest early too if that's okay."

He rose from the ground with you in his arms, "I'll be here."

"Mmm thank you... good... night."

"Good night, little dandelion."

And perhaps that distant memory from faraway had urged him to invite and indulge, when he saw the same spark of intrigue and desperation, of the warmth of carefree days in front of him.

"But I will require advance payment,

500 Mora, and three answered questions."

Dainsleif SUPREMACY MWAHAHAHAHAH

@genshin-idiot : here's your Dainsleif content

@moaa @dandelion-dreams @witchsungie @lehra @zelos-simp @legionqueensav @snackgod @rxsalinee @cala-ran @wind-wheel @lilydewi22 @yellowflowre @traveler-lumine @nonniechan