#you and i drank the poison from the same vine

[thewildernesschooses]

The Hot Springs, a lottiexreader smut

you are a catholic who is doubtful of Lottie’s prophet status. she takes you to a hot spring and suddenly you understand her power very well.

could be considered slight non con because it’s possible the cave air was intoxicating or the wilderness influenced you but also there’s some non verbal consent check ins so it really depends on your comfort with that :)

Lottie had become a sort of wilderness Jesus and it didn’t sit well with your Catholic heart. You weren’t even really that Catholic, that was more your mom’s thing, but it all felt rather sacrilegious.

You understood half the team becoming lesbians, but lesbian pagans? You didn’t even know how you were going to confess when you got back.

You still prayed before meals, did Hail Mary’s and prayed the rosary. It was more comforting than anything, especially after Laura Lee’s bible had burned in the fire. It also made you a target for Lottie’s evangelism. You didn’t know what was going on with the cult stuff the other girls were getting up to but you tried to stay out of it. If they needed that to stay (mostly) sane out here then they were free to do it. You just wished they felt the same.

Lottie had been peer-pressuring you into trying drugs. You drank the weird wine but that was like communion or thanksgiving. And you ate the weird soup Misty poisoned but it made you really sleepy and you passed out before whatever thing happened that night that set off the chain of events that led you here. That night had somehow given Lottie a spiritual control over the group that you had only ever seen the Pope have.

Poor Travis had been her main plaything recently. It was sad because his family had attended your parish. They were mostly an Easter/Christmas mass family but they were good people. He didn’t ever join you in prayer anymore.

Lottie could very well be the devil, you thought. She was exactly how he was supposed to appear. Charming, illusive, beautiful. She looked at your rosary like it was an annoying joke you had told too many times. She didn’t even respect it enough to have contempt.

Lottie was on one today. She had an early morning session with Travis and he had come back looking drained and guilty. She had a conversation with Akilah that obviously wound them both up. It seemed like her warpath was set on you next.

She approached you while you were weaving a basket. You had gotten good at making vines and softer sticks into useful things.

She looked at you with that hazy look in her eye, smiling at you but also past you. “You’ve done well with what the wilderness has given you. You’ve made yourself useful, beautiful.”

In a plain tone, you replied, “I’m assuming you’re talking about the baskets. Thanks, Lottie.” You figured the acknowledgment would be enough for her to move on but she kept staring at you. You broke first and asked, “Can I help you with anything?”

“Come with me. I want to show you something.” She held out her hand like you would just take it. Crazy bitch.

You looked at her then her hand and back to her again. “Uh…I’m good. Thanks.” You put on a slight smile while looking down at your baskets to placate her but she remained unmoving.

“It’s a special place. I was told you deserved it first.”

And…life had gotten so damn boring that your interest was peaked. There was no gossip about Holly Stein doing anal, there were no telenovelas to watch, your cousin's wedding had been planned and had by this point. Surviving was monotonous and novelty was a currency out here. One Lottie had riches in.

She knew from the look on your face that you were interested. You were too inquisitive for your own good. You sighed and got up on your own, refusing to take her hand.

“Is it far? I want to get back before the temperature drops tonight.” Fall was in full swing and nights were getting colder.

“No, it’s not too far. And no worries, it will be warm there.” Cryptic bitch, you thought.

“Whatever, Lottie. Let’s just get this over with.”

Despite your obvious lack of enthusiasm, Lottie was doing her little excited hops. You thought they were a cute quirk before the crash but they seemed psychotic when they were only solicited by blood and chaos now. And you agreeing to go off into the woods with her.

You both set off into the woods silently. You walked long enough that you almost called it and turned around. You kept walking until she stopped at the mouth of a cave. She walked in without looking back to check if you were following, confident you wouldn’t let her go in a strange cave alone.

You begrudgingly went along. It only took a couple of steps for the atmosphere to change. This cave felt warm and humid, a contrast to the autumn air.

Lottie kept going until you came upon a small hot spring. It looked inviting, steaming like your uncle's hot tub.

“It told me you would like it here, that it would help you.”

“Ok, what does that mean?”

“You’ll see.” Lottie squatted next to the spring and skimmed her piano player fingers across the top of the water. “Or you won’t. But you’ll feel it, even if you don’t.” She kept looking at the ripples her fingers made. When she stood, she untied her cloak.

You furrow your brows at the weird rhyme. “What the fuck does that even mean?”

She looked up at you with that coy little smile like she knew something you didn’t. The most perplexing part is she probably did. “It’s not for you to understand, just focus on feeling. You’ll feel good.”

Before you could question her more she started taking off her top. “Whoa! Why are you stripping?” You covered your eyes. It’s not like nudity was odd out here but none of you made the habit of getting naked in plain eye for no reason.

“We have to be naked. You can’t wear clothes in the spring, silly.” Her giggles echoed off the cave walls.

You thought about resisting but you figured the more you complied, the less time this would take. And besides, a warm bath didn’t sound too terrible. After seasons of bathing in the chilly lake or with rags dipped into lukewarm bath water, even an awkward skinny dip in a forest jacuzzi was appealing.

When you peeked back out, Lottie was already nude. She had always had one of the best bodies on the team. Full breasts and a natural hourglass figure that curved her hips in a way most girls were jealous of. She had muscular thighs, even after all the starvation. The wilderness provides a voice in your head supples. What the hell?

You couldn’t linger on any thought too particularly long because a nude Lottie was walking towards you in a way that made you thoughtless. She slinked towards you like a mountain lion. Energy coiled and tense like a snake. She put her hands at the hem of your shirt and lifted it above your head. She put the shirt with her cloak.

You went to cover your chest in a self-conscious way but she grabbed your wrists firmly, holding onto them while looking in your eyes in a way that you couldn’t decipher but felt its intensity.

When she was sure you would keep your hands where she wanted them, she went to unbutton your jeans. You hadn’t been undressed like this, by someone else, in a long time. It wasn’t in the way you had been craving in the back of your mind but your breath hitched like it was.

If Lottie heard, she didn’t react. Just unzipped your fly and pushed the pants down. She went lower, untied your shoes and held the bottoms as you stepped out of them both.

You thought she would be done, you could just stay in your panties and it would be like swimming at a European beach but Lottie hooked her fingers on the sides of your underwear and pulled back the tired elastic just so. She looked into your eyes to sense any real hesitation before she pulled them low enough on your thighs to let them drop. Finally, she raised your rosary above your head and put it with the rest of your clothes.

You couldn’t think straight after that. You should feel way more awkward than you did. It didn’t feel wrong, though, it just felt like a lot. Maybe the humid cave air was messing with your head.

She put her hands back on your wrists and just rubbed circles on the inside of them for a second. Spirals, the same voice in your head throws out. What the hell?

She keeps your wrists in her hands as she walks backward like she has no fear that an errant rock could trip her, like she has faith that her steps will always land in the exact right place. She keeps her eyes on you as she takes a step backwards down into the spring and lets out a content sigh when she gets both legs in. Her looking at you while she made that noise had your stomach feeling funny.

She kept walking backwards into the clear water, taking you in with her. The water was only deep enough to kiss your belly buttons but there was a rock ledge halfway up that made a natural bench. When she guided you there to sit, the hot water covered your chests up to the collarbones. Lottie had lovely collarbones, which you had never noticed until now.

The water felt great. Like a long-forgotten luxury your brain hadn’t let you remember. You were so spoiled before all of this. Your 30-minute hot showers felt so far away.

“So…what are we supposed to do now.” You chuckled nervously because she kept staring at you.

The corner of her mouth ticked up. “I want you to feel.”

You didn’t know what that meant. You felt out of breath even though you were resting. You felt comfortable even though you were sitting on random rocks. You felt safe even though you were with a girl you were half convinced was possessed by the devil like twenty minutes ago. You felt a bone-deep warmth you hadn’t felt for a long time in this mostly dark cave.

You couldn’t say any of that out loud but Lottie looked at you like you had. The understanding and empathetic stare seemed so focused now. Focused on you.

She put her hand on your unclothed thigh underwater. You could’ve backed away but you didn’t. She palmed it and squeezed gently. Her thumb started to make the same spiral she made on your wrists. It left you nearly panting. The water was so warm.

Lottie was murmuring something under her breath but you couldn’t quite make out the words. You should probably ask but her mouth was much more interesting to look at than it ever seemed before. Your thigh was still in her grip and it felt like an epicenter.

She shifted to fully face you and took a wet hand and ran it through your hair. She cupped your cheek after and her thumb rested underneath your eye. She raised her volume and said “Your eyes see things others can’t. It knows and rewards you for it.” She kissed the cheek her hand wasn’t on. “It wants you. It wants you to be more open.”

You usually had a coherent argument but you couldn’t disagree. You just felt like what she was saying had to be right. You were wrong this entire time. Usually being wrong sets you on edge but you felt happy to be incorrect. Like you were holding onto a sadness until now that had dissolved into the spring.

“How do I do that?” You wanted to know better. You wanted to be better.

“Just feel.” She sounded as breathless as you were. Lottie stood from the bench and moved in front of you to face you head-on. You had to look up at her slightly despite the bench being high and the middle of the spring being the deepest. She was so tall.

Her hand moved in, towards your inner thigh. You spread them without thinking. The spring got warmer and steam was sizzling in the air. It thanks you for being open, the voice says.

Her hand lingered there, on your inner thigh. She looked at you while her other hand slid up, cupped your breast and lightly squeezed. She waited for the reaction. You didn’t do much until she started thumbing your nipple and you start gasping quietly. She seemed satisfied by that. Your little noises were like sacrifices at an altar. Probably better if Lottie’s personal opinions were taken into account.

“There we go. You’re doing so good.”

“Why does it want this?”

“Because you deserve to feel good. You make such beautiful things. You’re such a beautiful thing. You please it without knowing.” Her smile made you gulp. “Imagine how you could please if you tried.”

She put the hand that was on your thigh where you wanted it, finally. She rubbed her fingers against you where it felt the best. Your noises were echoing off the cave walls and resonating like some kind of choir. It sounded holy to both of you.

She was moving her hands in tandem, stimulating your nipples and clitoris in a way you didn’t know was possible. It was so much better than when you were alone, leaning up against a tree, hoping Nat didn’t try to come find you.

It was all becoming too much. The pleasure, the sensitivity, the connection. To Lottie or the wilderness, you weren’t sure. Maybe it was the same thing. Your consciousness felt raw and open, merging with everything. You’re doing good, the voice chimed in. Was Lottie or something else? You didn’t know. It didn’t matter now. Maybe never did.

Lottie sat down on your thigh and started grinding onto it. It only made everything better. The still pool now had waves splashing out the sides. The energy spilling over. Outside the wind picked up and the leaves danced.

Feeling Lottie hump and clench on you pushed you over an edge. She rubbed you faster and didn’t let up. You were making this high-pitched sound she found adorable. She wanted you to spill more.

She could tell you were about to climax, she kept her fast stimulation in time with her grinding. She didn’t need much physical touch to get there. Not when you were open and needy like this. Not when she had wanted this for so long.

You got louder until you got quieter. Your thighs tried to clench but Lottie kept them apart with her strong legs. Your back pulled away from the edge of the spring and when the waves were almost done washing over you, you looked up at Lottie and they kept going.

Lottie reached her peak once she saw this. She kept rubbing until you were sensitive and then she roughly stuffed her fingers in your mouth while riding out the last of it on your thigh. It felt like first communion, the body and blood all in one.

You both panted into the cave's air. You had to breathe around her fingers but it was fine. You didn’t need oxygen right now.

Lottie pet your hair until she was able to stand up. “Just wait here, I’ll help you up in a second.” She took her fingers out of your mouth and pushed herself out of the water. She came back with the cloak she had dropped before. She helped you out of the spring and onto your shaky legs. She wrapped her cloak around your naked frame and rubbed up and down your arms until you had drip-dried enough to put on your clothes. She helped you into them.

She put her hand on the small of your back and led you slowly to the mouth of the cave. The wind was brisker than when you went in. Or maybe you were just wet. She still guided you with that hand on your back.

“What was that?” You had to ask now that the heat of the moment had gone.

“What?”

“I don’t know? The skinny dipping? Us getting to third base? The weird voice?” With a clearer mind, in the sunlight, it occurred to you that everything that had occurred over the last thirty minutes was preposterous. You kept walking though, subconsciously listening to the hand telling you to keep forward.

“You heard a voice? Yay! It speaks to you!”

She sounded so happy that you kinda didn’t want to push it anymore.

You felt that feeling you felt back in the cave. Happy you were wrong. Happy to make her happy. What the hell?

You were hesitant to ask, it felt like submitting to something. “Is that what you hear? Was it the wilderness?” It sounded stupid coming out of your mouth but it felt real back there. As real as everything else that had happened.

“Yes! I knew it liked you. It’s why I’ve always liked you.” She smiled almost like she used to. Almost showing her molars it was so wide.

“So…will it want us to do it again?” You couldn’t hide how hopeful you sounded. It had all felt so good.

“Of course! Pleasing you pleased it. I think we should do it every day after breakfast if we can.” And yeah, you could pencil that in between basket weaving and herb picking. That could work.

“If that’s what…it wants.”

“It is.”

You both came up on camp and she kept her hand on your back. She walked you to her hut and told you to lay down on her bed roll. You didn’t question why hers and not yours.

And if she was walking around, wearing the shirt you had on earlier, fiddling with the cross you used to wear around your neck faithfully, the other girls didn’t say anything about it. Yet

pls like/comment if you enjoyed it, i love seeing people’s thoughts/reactions :)

[helloofellowpeople]

Do you also sometimes forget your headphones and then be like soooo sad and annoyed about yourself 'cause you now can't listen to music and have to socialise/wait in silence etc. or is it just me?!?? :(

[fruitjuus]

you and I drank the poison from the same vine

[yandere-fics]

♡ You Kill Theanna But She Returns ♡

(The garden won't let Theanna die and it grows attached to you too.)

♡ Out of everything you predicted might happen to you from killing the crown princess, executions, being hunted for the rest of your life, general public scorn, you had not expected to be mocked by the very person you seduced and poisoned to death the night prior arriving at the ball, the same ball you intended to meet up with the person who had contracted you, and propose to you. You were sure she was dead, you'd seen her corpse, you'd heard the servants shriek and the court mage being called for but here she was only looking slightly worse for wear with what you were sure what a flower growing out of her palm though you shut your mouth about that observation because there was a chance you'd gone crazy and that was just another thing you were imagining, maybe you hadn't killed her. Maybe you'd not poisoned her but had given yourself a hallucinogenic. That seemed way more likely than her being here despite being dead the night prior. If that was the case you would have to try again though. ♡

♡ Regardless you said yes, what else were you supposed to do? You had failed to kill her, whether it was because you'd actually dosed yourself somehow despite being an accomplished assassin or she had come back to life. You would figure out how you were going to try to kill her again later. Some part of your gut told you the flower had something to do with her coming back to life but you couldn't really figure out how that would make any sense. You usually didn't ignore your instincts, that was how you'd killed so many over the years but you had to press your instincts down this time. Even if it had been true it wouldn't have benefitted you in any way. ♡

"You left the room last night before I could speak to you properly darling." You sucked in a breath, so she knew something had occurred last night. She probably knew everything and if that was the case then there was a chance she definitely had come back to life. You were screwed, how were you supposed to kill someone who could come back to life? If she knew though, why would she still propose to you? Revenge? "My queen shouldn't be messing with poisons, perhaps I should keep you in our chambers until you learn better."

"What-" She cut you off kissing you softly.

"Don't worry, you couldn't kill me even if you had tried another method, my queen. Now just smile for the people, they need to see their new queen." She pulled you back into the main ballroom smiling widely as she announced your marriage, while you tried your best not to look horrified.

♡ So she had definitely died that night. You realized that very quickly because despite being forced to be by her side at every moment she never ate nor drank. You weren't sure what had brought her back but something had and so any hopes you had of killing her again through a poisoning method would not work. You'd try stabbing next. You were determined to finish this contract. Not just because it was a lot of money you had been offered but also you did not want to marry her under any circumstances and the days towards your wedding were slowly counting down. There was only so much stalling you could do by asking for ridiculous things like a wedding dress with a train so long twenty people needed to carry it. ♡

♡ The next time you tried to kill her you had a knife to cut your steak and pounced on her the moment everyone else left the room, suddenly being thrown back from… a vine? All she did was remove the knife from your hands and calmly cut your steak. You were never allowed to cut your own food from that point onwards. You snuck another knife away to attempt it again in her sleep but… that stupid vine happened to stop it yet again. Theanna grumbling when she woke up to see your expression, pulling you down to the bed while mumbling something about how you had to start behaving yourself as her queen. ♡

The vine had begun to make more frequent appearances now that you had tried to kill her yet again. Mostly preventing you from walking away from Theanna, holding you in place as she ravished your body, swatting your wrist slightly any time you attempted to even grab a butterknife or pen. Theanna didn't really acknowledge it other than a light chuckle any time the vine wrapped around you. You weren't really sure how much of it she controlled though or if it was a separate entity. It was clearly related to whatever it had that had kept her alive. Killing her would be impossible with the vine around. You decided you'd be better off escaping.

♡ It had taken a lot of convincing to get Theanna to leave you in your bedroom while she went to work in her office. You'd slipped out the window and had taken off running into the forest as quick as you could. You ignored how it felt like there was a force trying it's best to keep you near the castle. Probably the same force that had brought her back to life. It didn't take long for Theanna to catch up to you, yet another vine coming out to grab you, carrying you and setting you bridal style in Theanna's arms who merely grinned. ♡

[haveihitanerve]

We Drank the Poison From The Same Vine-

“I’m moving to Bludhaven. They need a Batman.” 

No. 

And suddenly dick was eight again, running around the cave naming things with bat at the front, cartwheeling and swinging from the rafters, never stopping for a breath, always talking. 

And Suddenly dick was ten, begging Bruce to let him become Robin, to fight crime alongside him. 

Suddenly dick was twelve, Dick with the flu and Bruce had stayed with him the entire week, singing him to sleep, tucking him in, reading him stories. That had been the first time dick had called him dad. 

Suddenly dick was fourteen, in high school, making friends and spending every night away from home. Bringing Barbara Gordon home and grinning ear to ear when Bruce had inducted her in as batgirl. 

Suddenly dick was sixteen, rebelling every night, staying out later and later only for Bruce to find him knocked out in an alley, bleeding. Bruce had almost tied him to the bed to keep him from leaving and dick had never left again. 

And now he is eighteen, telling Bruce he wants to leave. To establish himself in Bludhaven as Nightwing. Be their Batman. As much as it scares Bruce, he loves that his first born still looks up to him to such a degree. “Dad?” Dicks hand is on his shoulder. Bruce gives his son a weak smile. “You’re grown now chum. You can make your own decisions.” “Oh.” Bruce immediately notices that’s not the answer his son wants to hear. “I’ll miss you.” He chokes out. “So much. Come visit alright? Keep me updated?” His voice is so different than he thought he would sound. Choked. Near tears. “Oh dad.” Dick wraps his arms around his father, pulling him close. “Of course I’ll come visit.” Bruce just nods, holding his son close and breathing in that distinct dickie smell. “I love you.” He whispers. “I love you dad.” Dick whispers back, then pulls away. He’s smiling, but Bruce can see the lump in his throat, can see the tears forming. So he claps his son on the shoulder, tousles his hair. “Go pack.” He orders, smiling and crying at the same time. Dick nods, and turns to leave, before turning back and wrapping his father in another hug. “I love you. You’ll always be my father. Always be my first home.” Bruce just clutches his son close to his chest. “You’ll always be my first home too chum.” And then dick pulls away, smiles. Heads upstairs. And Bruce collapses into his Batchair, clutching at his chest as something inside him breaks. “Master Bruce?” Alfred’s hand is on his shoulder. A cup of coffee is pushed into his hands. “I never thought…” Bruce manages. “It is always hard.” Alfred agrees. “It will always be hard.” Bruce swallows, placing the cup on the counter. “I love it and I hate it at the same time.” He whispers, placing his head on his hands. “We drank the poison from the same vine.” 

“Oh I love it and I hate it at the same time.” Dick whispers, back pressed against the door to the Batcave. “You and I drank the poison from the same vine.”

[tanya8]

Hii,I'm Tanya

I'm a poet and here is one of my work.

PART 1 :THE ART

Blood on the table ,

The painting's a bloody canvas,

Love me or hate me,

Still wouldn't change a thing,

I already hate myself,

Why try so hard to love me?,

Can't you see the pain from my art...

PART 2: THE BLACK ROSE

Swinging through vines in the ruins,

Then I saw a black rose bleeding,

It was empty and neglected,

Blood oozing through the petals,

Didnt have anything left to give,

filled with hate,

No love left to give,

Started to wither,

And the darkness of the night swallowed it

I know you see the pain from my art......

PART 3: THE POISON & POTION

Where it all started,

I Drank a potion,

The witch gave me in the castle,

She Mixed it up in a black pot,

With special spices I fear to name,

She added a great amount of self hate,

Loss,self hurt and rejection,

Ruin, misfortune and exclusion

And even till this day I'm still stuck in the stimulation Spinning in the same wheel of misfortune

Now you see the pain in my art...

[charlenasaxen]

“The ballroom was too hot, cramped with dancing bodies ignorant of what was happening”

“Byron had gathered Charlotte and Everett to watch over Eliza”

“the only person Blythe still recognized was Aris. Even the way he sipped his champagne was too smug”

“He didn’t need to ask who she was talking about.

“He is Death, Miss Hawthorne. I’m sure you can answer that question yourself.”

“Of course I will.” Aris extended his hand, and Blythe took it on instinct.”

“real love that Blythe was going to rip from her. All because of Aris. All because of Fate.”

“Because in that moment she knew why she hadn’t cried, knew why Signa had taken Percy”

“Blythe shoved away as the music crescendoed”

“before Aris could argue, Blythe fled the ballroom”

“know that she could have prevented Elijah’s death when he was only just beginning to truly live”

“The light cleaved Death’s shadows as Fate matched his brother and took him by the throat”

“I’m so sorry,” Blythe whispered at once, mindful of her uncle and the Wakefields still sleeping”

“I only ever wanted what was best for your family”

“I never wanted to hurt Percy. I loved him, Blythe”

“clear he was debating making a dive for the tapestry”

“Blythe gave no warning as she sliced her palm across the iron poker”

“turned to stare Fate dead in the eyes. “Because you never specified who had to be your bride.”

“I believe I’ve just fulfilled an oath. Are you not proud of your wife’s cleverness?”

“wound her fingers into his blond hair”

“When Fate laughed, the sound was manic. “You’re going to regret this.”

“Don’t worry, darling.” Blythe laid a kiss upon his cheek”

“Signa stared at her cousin, uncertain whether she was meant to shake her or hug her”

“Everyone will even believe I’m a princess.” Blythe may have dazzled with her smile”

“Don’t worry about me. I appreciate you being so willing to save my father, but I’ll take it from here.”

“It’s time that I go pack. I don’t want my father coming home to an empty house.”

Elijah, home. Never had there been words more magnificent.”

“I do wish you’d stop bringing them. The light is bothersome on my eyes.”

“yet despite all the blood she’d spilled, there was not a drop of it on the wood”

“From the vines in Elijah’s study, to the foal in the stables, and again with Eliza… Blythe had been a constant”

“After all these years, you truly found her. It would seem, Little Bird, that fate always has a way of working itself out in the end.”

“You once tried to kill me, and look where that got us.” Death’s eyes beamed”

“why don’t you show me around this house of ours?” He offered his hand, and with a heart so full it could burst, Signa took it.”

“EVERETT WAKEFIELD AND CHARLOTTE KILLINGER MARRIED TWO months later”

“between the bride and groom as he drew her in for a kiss”

“in that sea, she’d dreamed of velvet laughter. Of a faceless man who spun her in his arms, dancing to unfamiliar music”

“she watched Everett cup his hand around Charlotte’s face, reminding Blythe of a time when a faceless someone had held her like that”

“Elijah stood a short distance behind Signa, animated as he spoke to a laughing Eliza”

“And I daresay Charlotte has never looked happier.”

Blythe’s chest swelled as the couple held each other”

“It was good to see Everett with a light in his eyes”

“A lie, of course, but one Blythe knew she and Signa would take to their graves”

“Or at least she would. She wasn’t certain whether Signa would even have a grave.”

“though casual for Byron meant that he might as well have been shouting from the rooftops”

“The baby is a Hawthorne and should be raised as one.”

“one of the few who could have ensured that it wasn’t Elijah who drank the poison, but Lord Wakefield”

“For the sake of Percy’s child, it was Byron who’d poisoned the duke”

“what would it matter? They’d chosen to protect Eliza. Now they’d have to do the same for him.”

“it was the ring of golden light around his finger that Blythe struggled to peel her eyes from”

“he scanned the crowd, one corner of his lips twisting upward as his gaze settled upon Blythe”

“Then she’d shove them back into their sockets just so she could pluck them again”

“She lifted her own flute of champagne and threw on her brightest smile”

“Blythe could have sworn she heard Death’s laughter in the rustling trees”

“smug grin sinking from his lips as Elijah brushed past Blythe, heading for the prince himself”

“as Aris braced himself, Blythe offered her condolences with a sweet wave”

“Again the rustle of laughter sounded, and this time Blythe saw Death’s shadows ensnare Signa as he whispered, “And now the show begins.”

[buryth3m]

oh i love it and i hate it at the same time

you and i drank the poison from the same vine

[antih3r0s]

open to: m / f / nb muse: nate jacobs, 19+, college student/star quarterback, *britney spears' toxic begins to play* plot: toxic stufffffff. made in beta, no legacy access :c

" you and i drank the poison from the same vine. "

[fangs-trait]

Can you tell us (me) something more about Gwen? 👁️

okay okay okay okay !!!

gwenfair is the mother of morgyn. she was very sweet and lighthearted. morgyn remembers her just a little. she died when they were only 4. at this point in time they know WHAT exactly happened to her, but only the first part of it, there is still a secret to uncover

gwen could see events of future, someone's destiny and it was very clear. she would predict the future. but she never used that for serious things. she could just tell her classmates it would rain today, or help someone out in everyday life

her fashion sense is in the real in between of 80th and 90th but make most colors earthy. her music vibes are like THAT. she got her nose pierced after she was done with uni. some time after that she got married and pregnant with morgyn. most of her boots are heavy as hell, no one understands HOW she even walks with these shoes on. her hair is naturally curly AND blonde (morgyn didn't dye their hair, it's a treat from her :з)

she went to the same uni as her future husband marshall, and they fell in love very quick as two completely different 'friends'. marshall's POV about her in uni over here. marshall didn't like her being so sticky and weird at first, but he literally couldn't resist her nature. she was perfect and always nice to him and other people.

(the most energy and good vibes out of all characters i ever created)

opposites do attract, but it turned out bad... she is dead because of her husband marshall. after the first anniversary of their marriage she started going completely blind. marshall poisoned the vine she drank that day. some sages said her blindness will help to see something important in the near future (as other sages and spellcasters sometimes go blind when they reach highest point of magic control abilities). she died soon after. and she could see something... but she couldn't tell anyone about it. only marshall knows (for his evil reason. he is kinda... evil literal asshole)

[kassandras-one-braincell]

Kassandra x Fem!Reader - Entangled Amongst the Vines

In which Kassandra fucks you stupid in Markos’ Koan vineyard. [explicit]

Can be found on AO3 here.

Minors DNI.

Tranquil would be the first word that you’d associate with vineyards: leaves gently rustling in the summer breeze, the Aegean sun washing the Koan fields in a gentle glow, intensifying the glorious hues of the vines and their sacred gifts. No soldier, mercenary nor bandit would dare shed blood amongst the vines and risk tarnishing the beautiful grapes. The perfect place for a late afternoon stroll with your misthios.

Kassandra stared wistfully at the fruits surrounding you both. “Poor, innocent grapes. They have no idea they’re about to be butchered and made into shitty wine,” she muttered, as if she stood in a slaughter dock rather than a vineyard.

While you had heard some…less than pleasant stories about Markos’ wine, you couldn’t have imagined it being too terrible. “Surely it isn’t that bad,” you chuckled, admiring the vibrant burgundies of the grapes, ripe and almost bursting with sweetness. “How could someone manage to make anything disgusting out of these? They look delicious.”

The look of horror she shot you made you snort. “I’m telling you, it tastes like goat piss. Borderline poison.” Her nose wrinkled in disgust at the memory. An oddly specific comparison.

“Oh, and you’re familiar with the taste of goat piss, Kassandra?” You cocked your brow and grinned.

“I’m telling you, Dionysus weeps for every amphora Markos sells.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

Kassandra rolled her eyes, flashing you a smile that could melt steel. “I was trying to dissuade you from sympathy-drinking any when Markos inevitably asks you to sample some. I prefer you alive and healthy, you know.” Your expression didn’t waver. She sighed, the corners of her mouth remaining upturned. “Of course I haven’t drank goat piss. Happy?”

“Hmm, I’m not so sure. After hearing tales of what you did to that poor goat in Kephallonia…”

She broke down into hearty laughter, your favourite sound echoing throughout the green fields of Kos. Eyes crinkling at the corners, hand clutching her stomach. Positively radiant, enough to fill you with a swell of warmth.

Some minute later she returned to the mortal realm, catching her breath, beaming at you. Kassandra adored your wit, something she reminded you of frequently, her smile conveying it all. “Oh, but the look on the Cyclops’ face was beyond worth it,” she reminisced.

You idled down the rows of vines in content silence, fingers interlaced, absorbing the beauty of the greens and reds. With each step the grapes seemed to appear brighter, juicier, glistening in the Koan afternoon sun. Kassandra evidently thought the same, and plucked one off a particularly delectable looking bunch, popping it in her mouth. She groaned softly as she sank her teeth into the delicate fruit, savouring its flavour, leaving you salivating like a rabid dog. They looked so refreshing, and the damned heat was almost unbearable. But you really didn’t want to deal with an angry farmhand catching you grazing on his crop.

“That,” she began, “was fucking divine.”

“They certainly look it,” you trailed off, battling off the urge to join her.

“Have one.” She eased a second off of its stem and offered it to you. With a longing sigh, you shook your head.

“They’re not mine to eat,” you said, desperately trying to keep your resolve intact.

“Please, the drachmae in Markos’ purse all come from payments I never got in Kephallonia. They’re practically my grapes.” Kassandra rolled it in her fingertips. “This is definitely the juiciest one of the bunch.” Fucking tease.

“Kassandra…”

Her smirk meant she knew you were cracking. “It’s getting warmer, you know.”

With a huff, you relented. “Oh, to Hades with it,” you mumbled, taking the grape from her fingertips. You bit into the fruit with your front teeth, laughing when a stream of juice squirted out of the end, spraying Kassandra’s neck. And it was divinity; the flesh was perfectly sweet, the skin just bitter enough to linger on your tastebuds, mingling with the sugary juices. With a hum you finished the other half of the grape. “These are the best grapes I’ve ever tasted,” you breathed out, regretting nothing. Your eyes drifted to the infinitesimal droplets scattered across your misthios’ neck. “Sorry about that.”

But Kassandra made no move to wipe off the juice. Instead, she had a wolfish grin plastered on her handsome face, one you were far too familiar with.

“Gods, what’s on your mind, woman?” you asked, shivering in the sweltering heat at the pensive hum she gave.

“Just thinking of the ways I could make you do that.” Nonchalant, sensual promises seeping through every word. Blushing furiously, you scanned either side of you for any farmhands.

“Kassandra, we’re in the middle of a vineyard,” you hissed, understanding every implication in her words. Her smug expression never faltered.

She took a step closer to you, eyes gleaming with a hunger for something other than fruit. “No one’s around,” she said, her voice hushed and far too inviting to be fair. Her hand brushed a stray lock of hair out of your face, lingering to cradle your head, thumb caressing your cheekbone.

“Anyone could find us,” you warned her, cursing yourself for leaning into her touch.

“You’ll just have to keep quiet then, won’t you?” Your eyes followed her thumb as she swept it across your lower lip, the soft flesh tingling in its wake. The smirk in her voice was tangible. “Think you can do that for me?”

As she snaked an arm around your waist – and fuck, she made it sound so enticing – you instinctively relaxed, despite your brain being a maelstrom of temptation and inhibition. “No, not with what you’re like…” you mumbled, earning a chuckle. After all, you both knew Kassandra could play your body like the finest lyre until it produced the sounds she craved.

“Then suppose somebody does find us,” she began, and gods you were already hooked on her sinful speculation. “They’ll see a misthios pleasuring her beautiful lover…” She trailed her thumb down your neck, pressing the scarred pad into the hollow of your throat firmly enough to elicit a groan. “Fucking her nice and deep…” Her hand journeyed down your side, fingers brushing over a hard nipple that betrayed your debauched emotions, settling at your waist. Ever having a penchant for making the filthiest words sound like silk. “And they wouldn’t dare tell a soul, not unless they want a pissed-off mercenary on their tail.”

“You’re insatiable.”

“Is that a yes?” Your eyes met, hers muddied with lust, yours undoubtedly equally as foggy. Thighs pressed together in an attempt to relieve a newfound ache, you nodded enthusiastically. Aphrodite herself would spread her legs for the smirk Kassandra returned.

“At least take me to where the grapes aren’t ripe enough for picking,” you pleaded, hoping that portion of the vineyard would be marginally more secluded. As thrilling as this sounded, you didn’t want to actually get caught in the act.

“Smart,” she replied, taking your hand in her larger one.

You waded through the rows of vines until the deep burgundy fruits were meddled with green and amber, lacking the plumpness of those you sought before, anticipation coursing through your veins until your heart hammered against your chest. Kassandra swiftly scanned the area for any farmhands before pulling you into an embrace, dipping down to ensnare your lips in a kiss.

You rose to your tip-toes to return it, softly moaning into her mouth, seeking the solace of her lips. She kissed you with unbridled passion, slow and rough, utterly dizzying. Maddening in that it betrayed nothing of how she intended to take you, heightening your excitement. It rendered you drunker than any wine ever could.

When she pulled away, you couldn’t help but whine, wanting – needing – those salacious lips against yours for just a moment longer. But feeling them suckle at a spot on your neck that she knew drove you insane was a good compromise, especially with her hand hiking up the front of your chiton. You were grateful you decided to don a shorter one today, allowing her access to your clothed mound with limited restrictions.

Torturously slow, Kassandra began to rub firm circles against your clit over your undergarment, moaning at your slick soaking through the fabric. The sound you relinquished was nothing short of whorish. Immediately, the hand you wasn’t bracing on her bare, muscled bicep for balance flew to cover your mouth.

“I didn’t expect you to be this wet,” she whispered, nipping at the darkening skin on your neck. Honestly, neither did you, but your body was always so responsive whenever your lover promised to wreck you. Heat from her fingertips assaulted your senses, the friction of slick cloth against your core almost good enough to make you forget about your surroundings. Almost.

Kassandra noticed your eyes dart to the side, checking for any passers-by, and adjusted her rhythm, caressing your bead with quick, rough strokes, alternating between circles and sweeps. You were aflame, crying a symphony into your palm, brain no longer occupied with thoughts of being discovered. All the tension in your muscles unfurled as a familiar warmth built in your core, slowly, slowly, far too fucking slowly because gods she’s slowing down—

“That felt good,” you whimpered, all but sobbing when she stopped.

A wicked smirk crept onto her lips. “You know I like taking my time,” she purred, relishing your frustrated whine.

“I need your fingers, fuck—”

“They’re on you, aren’t they?” She dragged her fingertip over the arousal-stained patch of fabric.

“Fates, Kassandra, don’t make me beg,” you demanded, pitifully desperate for those long, thick, marred fingers to fill you and make you see stars.

The misthios laughed – a husky, hot thing – and slipped your undergarment down to your mid thighs. “As the lady commands…” She ran her fingertip across your folds, collecting a river of dew as she went, revelling in your sharp intake of breath. “You’re loving this. Being fucked where anyone can see,” she mutters, delicately kissing your cheek as she rolled your clit between her finger and thumb. A trickle of arousal escaped you at her words, dripping onto her hand.

Finally, finally, after coating her fingers with enough of your essence, Kassandra pushed two fingers into you, met with no resistance. Mewling in appreciation, you let the hand covering your mouth fall to her broad shoulders, digging your nails into the firm muscle, forming a pattern of crescents that you knew she loved. Groaning, she sank her fingers in knuckle-deep, crooking them, angling her hand so its heel was flush against your clit. “Fuck,” you whispered as she dragged her fingers along your walls, effortlessly locating the ridge inside you that would inevitably send you spiralling over the edge, having mapped your body into her memory.

Languidly, she thrust into you, ensuring her scarred fingers brushed against that criminally good spot with every delicious come-hither, drinking in your delighted cries that you tried so hard to withhold. Her palm ground into you, rocking against your clit with every schlick of her fingers inside you. The stimulation from before paled in comparison, her fingers spearing into you so intensely that jaw slackened. You rolled your hips against her hand, yearning for release, needing to chase it, but standing on the tips of your toes made it nigh impossible to seize control of your pleasure. Ever attentive, Kassandra picked up the pace, earning a sob.

“Like that?” she whispered, as if the answer wasn’t obvious from your moans resonating throughout the vines with reckless abandon. Your response: an embarrassingly loud mewl, which she swiftly stifled with her lips. All it took was a few deep thrusts and an exquisitely rough slam into your sweet spot for you to clamp down on her hand, walls pulsating around her fingers as you came. “That’s it, fucking beautiful,” she growled against your lips, the arm around your waist tightening to support you. You moaned out a string of curses, trying to pry your shaking thighs apart to release her hand.

But her fingers remained hilted inside you.

“Wh– What are you—”

“Remember the grape you had?” Kassandra murmured, sucking a mark into the crook of your neck. You nodded slowly, still catching your breath. Her hot tongue ran over the bruising skin, making you shudder, gasping from overstimulation when you twitched around her digits. “Remember what I said?”

Oh, Fates.

Ever so carefully, she rocked into you again; your eyes fluttered shut as you tried to ground yourself, clinging onto your lover for dear life. “Shit, that’s– Fucking—”

“Do you want me to stop?” Kassandra asked, her sensual tone laced with concern.

“Please don’t,” you begged, a wanton mess. You were so sensitive but craved whatever she wanted to give you.

Without another word, she gently began undulating her hand back and forth, fingertips pushing into your sweet spot with every oscillation. Never going deeper, shallower, maintaining a steady pressure in your core. It was incredible. Her lips trailed delicate kisses over your neck, coaxing drawn-out sounds of your pleasure, eagerly tasting the beads of sweat cascading down your skin.

“You’ve never felt this before, have you?”

“Mmh.”

“More, love?”

“Mhm.”

Ensuring her hold on your waist was secure, she quickened the tempo of her ministrations, pounding her digits into your front walls. Lightning shot through your veins, engulfing your skin in chills, utterly ruining your ability to do anything except claw at her shoulders and sob. Fuck, it felt so intense, too intense, and the sensation building within was scarily foreign yet wonderful. Without a shadow of a doubt someone overheard you with nothing inhibiting your cries of bliss, but you didn’t care. You couldn’t think.

“Fuck, Kass, Kass, Kass—”

She grinned into your neck, breathing heavy from exertion, slamming into you harder. “Cum on my fingers, love,” she ushered, ravenous, addicted to your unabashed sensuality. That was all it took; that intense pressure burst, tipping you over the edge with a coarse wail, a waterfall of fluid dripping down Kassandra’s hand. All the while she fucked it out of you, only relenting when your knees buckled and you collapsed forwards into her. She caught you with ease, caressing soothing spirals into your back to calm you. Breathing ragged, you allowed her to support your weight through the aftershocks, smiling when she sweetly kissed your forehead. Some moments passed before you mustered the composure to stand, legs still faintly trembling.

Once she was certain that you could support yourself, she brought her soaked fingers to her lips and sucked them clean, the sight just about enough to kill you.

“That,” she smugly declared, tawny eyes locking with yours, “tastes better than any wine.”

[legolasbadass]

A Lifetime Apart [1/3]

Artwork by the lovely @gwen-ever​

Relationship: Thorin x OC

Summary: Thorin meets his One while still a young prince in Erebor, but their lives are torn apart by their families and the arrival of Smaug. 

Based on Alice Tynan’s interview with Richard Armitage in ‘The Vine,’ this fic was inspired by @gwen-ever’s wonderful art for the @tolkienrsb 2021! 

Warnings: Angst. Seriously guys, this is really angsty, get your tissues ready. (gwen and I are not sorry lol)

Rating: T

As always, the fic can be read on AO3. 

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 

There is a room in Erebor, a secret place where once their love bloomed in peace. All the memories of that place, where he held her and worshipped her with his lips, were forever engraved in his mind. It was there that, after months of struggling with his feelings, he had realized she was his One.

All Dwarves know that Mahal sometimes creates two of his children from the same stone, bonding them for life. Of course, not all Dwarves marry. Even those granted this honour by their Maker do not always choose to marry, for some value friendship above all other bonds, while others devote themselves to their craft. Still, as a young boy, Thorin had hoped Mahal would deem him worthy, and every night he had dreamt of the moment he would meet his One, conjuring their likeness like an artist who paints a picture and gives it life.

He had also wondered what it would feel like to meet his One. Would he know immediately? And how would he know? Perhaps it would be like in those romance novels his sister liked so much. A tender, all-consuming look from across the room, silently reassuring the other that they had found each other at last.

Perhaps due to long hours in the council chamber, Thorin had become more of a realist as the years went on. He always had to be on his guard, and he learned quickly that he could not trust his desires, for they could be manipulated by advisors and enemies alike. Romanticism was fine for artists but not for princes. The idea of a destined love became no more than a child’s fanciful dream, and Thorin grew gradually less opposed to the concept of an arranged marriage until the thought of it did not bother him at all. After all, his parents had been married for a political alliance and had still grown to care for each other. Thorin knew he would do the same.

At least, that was what he had told himself before he met Rúna, his dear Rúna.

He did not know immediately that she was his One, but from the moment their gazes met, he knew he would never again be the same. Her presence had so bewitched him that he had not realized he was walking toward her until she stood right in front of him. Then, stumbling over his every word, he had thought himself defeated, oblivious to the fact that she felt the same indescribable pull toward him.

“Thorin, at your service,” had been his first words to her.

“Rúna, daughter of Ragni, your highness,” she had replied with a curtsy, enchanting him all the more with her melodious voice.

“I hope you are having a pleasant time, Lady Rúna.” Already, he had loved the way her name rolled off his tongue.

“More pleasant than you, at least, seeing as you have found nothing better to do than stare at me from across the room,” she had replied teasingly.

Blushing furiously, he had attempted to remain formal and composed but, ultimately, had failed miserably. “I had hoped that would go unnoticed, or at the very least, that you would humour me and pretend like nothing had transpired. And just because I was watching you does not mean I am not having a pleasant time. On the contrary, my spirits were lifted by the sight of your fairness.”

Thorin could still remember the beautiful blush that had painted her cheeks. “Forgive me,” he had said hastily. “I did not mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“I did not say I did not enjoy it,” she had replied with the most enchanting smirk.

That was how their conversations usually unfolded. Thorin, who always prided himself on being in control and always knowing what to say, would find himself barely able to think. He blamed her low-cut gowns and the redness of her lips for that.

They soon became inseparable. Every day, they would meet in their secret room, a haven where they shared stolen kisses and soft caresses. Âzyungel, she would call him, for she, too, had accepted Mahal’s will. She had accepted Thorin as hers, and in those moments, both of them had believed nothing would ever separate them, for they were destined to be together.

Deep in the caverns of his mind, a voice called out to Thorin, warning him against the intensity of his passion, but he did not listen. He found himself thinking of her at the most inappropriate times, and she haunted the nights he wished he could spend with her. When he closed his eyes, he saw her smile and heard her laughter, clearer than the soft splashing of water against limestone rocks.

What would it be like to spend his whole life with her, his Rúna?

Thorin thought with utter surety that he would soon know when they announced to their families their intent to wed. At first, everyone was overjoyed. Rúna came from a wealthy and respectable family, so the king had no objections to his grandson’s choice — not that any of that mattered to the couple. Ale and Dorwinion wine flowed freely as the news travelled through the mountain. The prince had chosen his princess.

Thorin and Rúna welcomed their families’ approval, but they secretly longed to be alone once more. When at last they found themselves in the comfort of Thorin’s chambers, they drank some more wine between languid kisses, committing the moment to memory. Fingers braided hair then caressed the skin they hastily revealed, their cheeks tainted with the soft glow of love.

That night, like their hearts forever bound, their bodies became one. Thorin was gentle, attentive to her every need, and even afterwards, he continued to bathe her in tenderness, scattering kisses all over her skin as they murmured promises of eternal love to each other, bodies entangled.

Rúna fell asleep to the soft lullaby of his heartbeat beneath her cheek, and though she never doubted for a second his sincerity and devotion, those promises were never fulfilled.

Rúna knew they should have been patient, and although she was usually very sensible, she had not known how to resist her handsome prince, especially not when his body had promised her glorious passion, now and for the rest of their lives. Besides, it was not as though premarital relations were unheard of. However, princes had to follow much stricter rules. And these rules had been carelessly ignored. And as the days went on, Rúna knew she would not have the luxury of keeping their transgression a secret, for inside her bloomed the product of her and Thorin’s love, but also the cause of their demise.

Even if it had not been for her growing belly, her morning sickness and alarmingly fluctuating moods would have given her away. And they did. She had never seen her parents so furious, and their disappointment pierced her heart. Her father shouted about her stained reputation and their ruined bloodline, leaving her in tears as she tried to scramble away in search of Thorin even as she knew it was hopeless.

She knew they would separate them.

King Thror, with the support of Thorin’s parents, banished Rúna from Erebor, never to see her beloved again. She tried to fight them, indignation festered inside her like a poisoned wound, the unattainable promise of Thorin’s love shattering her heart into a million pieces, but it was hopeless.

They did not inform Thorin of this, for it was their firm intention never to let him know about the bastard child. Instead, they told him she was bedridden while they conjured up a more permanent plan. And so, unaware that his One had been taken from him, Thorin brought flowers to Rúna’s door every day. He hated every moment he was forced to spend away from her — it felt unnatural — but he consoled himself by thinking that they would spend their whole lives together.

Then the dragon came.

Thorin had been out hunting in the woods with his siblings when a strong wind began to rattle the treetops. Then a roar like thunder split the sky, and the blood of Thorin’s veins froze when he heard a shout from afar.

“Dragon!”

Rúna.

Without so much as a glance at his companions, Thorin bolted toward the mountain, fear clogging his throat.

Refusing to believe this was real, he did not even stop when the gates loomed above him, riddled in flames, but the screams piercing his ears grounded him to the bitterness of reality. The air was wrought with the stench of burning flesh and the sorrow of a broken people. All around him, children cried in fright, and mothers wept while the distant ringing of useless steel announced their defeat.

No help came from the Elves that day, nor any day since; a betrayal Thorin never forgot. Even if there had been survivors still clawing for breath inside the mountain, they had no means to reach them.

Rúna.

Thorin searched for her everywhere, shouting her name until his lungs burned, but when the moon appeared, and she was still nowhere to be found, Thorin knew it was hopeless. Grief crashed over him like a hurricane.

He had lost her.

He wanted to tear the sky open and demand retribution from Mahal himself, but all his remaining strength he used to remain on his feet. He had to be strong for his people — what remained of them. His family had miraculously survived, but even that could not have filled the gaping hole where his heart had once beat.

Rúna, his dear Rúna. The memory of her lips against his turned to ash in his mouth. When he had last kissed her and held her, he had done so thinking he would have a lifetime to keep loving her. But she was now no more than a memory.

He forced himself not to think of that, for his people needed him now more than ever. Only once he was finally alone did he let his tears run free, and all through the night, he sobbed into his pillow, his only comfort the memories of their secret room, untouched by fire and blood. Thorin held onto those memories all through the years, never forgetting, never forgiving.

—

Khuzdul translations:

Âzyungêl: Love of Loves (used here to refer to the Dwarven belief in a single, destined soulmate)

Taglist: @lathalea @linasofia @fizzyxcustard @mcchiberry @bitter-sweet-farmgirl​ @i-did-not-mean-to​

Let me know if you’d like to be added to my taglist!

[kiileyrose]

you and i drank the poison from the same vine

[sergeantsporks]

Trust is a Poison

Rating: Teen, Gen

CW: Implied/referenced child abuse, needles

Lilith finds a poisoned, dying Hunter on her doorstep.

Fantastic, now he's HER problem.

Ch 3/3: Trust Me

Ch 1, Ch 2

Ao3

Lilith was out of potion.

Morton had probably given her enough to reach the antidote, but since she’d used so much to keep Hunter from dying, she didn’t have any left.

His breath huffed on her neck, coming in short, fast pants. And he was trembling so hard that if it weren’t for the vines keeping him tied to her, she wouldn’t be able to hold onto him.

In the blazing desert sun, Hunter was uncomfortable to be this close to, his fever burning him up, but she didn’t have a choice. She’d flown her raven to its limit again, desperate to find the cure before Hunter died on her.

“Lil-ith?”

Lilith halted. He’d been in and out of consciousness, rarely coherent. “Hey.”

He slumped back against her. “Can we… stop?” he said in a small voice.

Lilith wiped a sheen of sweat from her forehead. She could use a break. And so could he—maybe he wasn’t walking, but the constant movement had to be tiring. She untied Hunter, setting him down, and he immediately curled into a small ball, still shivering. Lilith drew an ice glyph and pushed it into a canteen, setting it off and filling the canteen with ice. She drew a fire glyph, melting the ice into liquid. Lilith shook Hunter’s shoulder. “Come on, you need to drink something.”

He shook his head. “N-no.”

Lilith took a sip first, then held it back out. “See? Not poisoned.”

He opened his mouth like a baby bird, and she held it up, tilting it back. He guzzled the water, then fell back into his uneasy coma, shuddering. Lilith wiped the mouth of the canteen and drank what was left. She looked back at Hunter.

He was sweating blood.

Lilith shook him in a panic, trying to wake him up. “Hunter?!”

That seemed like a very final sign.

He blearily opened his eyes, putting a hand to his head. “Ngh—” he stared at the blood speckling his skin as his hand came away, his eyes dazed and unfocused. Then, to Lilith’s surprise, he burst into tears, the clear water mixing with the blood.

“Oh—” Lilith gingerly patted his head. “There there?”

“It—h-hurts!” he whimpered quietly, “It h-hurts so b-bad, like something is eating my insides, and I’m trying not—I’m trying not to bother you—b-but—”

I’m trying not to bother you.

Another bit of Belos. Suck it up. Work through the pain, through the exhaustion, greatness required sacrifice. The same reason she’d turned on her sister, but Hunter did it to himself instead. Lilith drew a fire glyph, heating up the already-stifling air in an attempt to tone down Hunter’s shivering. “Okay. Okay, how long has it been hurting?”

He sniffed, tears still streaming down his face. “S-since the beginning.”

Since the beginning.

She’d known the poison had been sapping his energy, making it hard to breathe, and making him feverish, but he’d been hurting to tears since he’d been poisoned?!

“Oh, Hunter,” she murmured.

He hiccupped, squeezing his eyes shut as if trying to stop the tears from coming out. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I can—I can keep going.”

Don’t be a burden.

Don’t bother people.

Keep going through the pain.

Lilith brushed his unruly strand of hair out of his face before it could get caught up in the blood staining his forehead. “Tell me when you need a break or more water,” she said, so gently it surprised even herself, “Don’t be scared to ask.”

He fell forward against her, red seeping onto her clothes. “’m okay… We can… keep going…”

Lilith scooped him up. Her raven cawed that it was ready, and she secured him to the staff, taking off again. Hunter leaned against her, his breathing hitching in his chest. Whether that was from the crying, or the poison, she didn’t know.

I need to get him that cure.

He’s been in pain this whole time.

And he never told me.

Belos had drilled that into him—Lilith wondered how many missions Hunter had run while hurting. Titan knew she’d sent him on a few, trying to get him as far away from her as possible. How many times had he returned injured and hadn’t told anyone?

Her raven cawed that it was incredibly funny that she’d started out not caring if he went blind, and now was telling him they could take breaks whenever he needed.

Lilith wrinkled her nose at the bird. “I don’t expect you to get it.”

She heard a quiet snuffle, and turned her head just enough to look at her passenger without him noticing. He was crying again, his eyes exhausted and bloodshot. But he didn’t make much noise, just leaned on her for support and cried into his cloak.

He must be too tired to hold it in anymore.

Not to tired to try and hide it from me, though.

Lilith shifted around, taking his hand.

“Just hold on a little longer,” she urged him, “We’re almost there.”

“Why… didn’t she just choose… a faster poison…” he groaned.

Lilith’s heart clenched in her chest. “Don’t talk like that. Please.”

“Yeah… then you’d… be dead by now…”

It’s more than that.

“Am I going to die?” Hunter asked in a very small voice.

Lilith squeezed his hand. “No,” she said fiercely, “I’m not going to let that happen.”

He sniffed, pressing one arm to his stomach, face twisted in pain. He was so… vulnerable.

He’s been running missions, doing Belos’ dirty work, since he was ten. He’s too young—younger than I was when I JOINED the coven. And he’s in charge of it?

“You’re being very strong,” she said softly, “I can’t even imagine the pain you’re in right now. But you’re going on despite it.” She put a hand on his back. “You can do this. I believe in you. Just stay strong for a little longer, and we’ll fix this. You’re going to be okay.”

He didn’t respond, his breathing seizing up.

And then he fell off of the staff, yanked to a halt by the harness.

Lilith steered towards the ground, hovering just far enough that he wouldn’t hit the dirt, and hopped off, untying him. Blood dripped from his pores, and he gasped in heaving, frantic, erratic breaths. Panic swept over her, making her dizzy. She put a hand on his chest. “Hold on for me, Hunter, just hold on. I’m going to find help—I’ll be back soon.”

She drew a huge light glyph, the resulting spell making a glowing marker over where he was lying. She grabbed her staff. “I’ll be right back,” she promised, and headed off.

They’re here, they’re around here somewhere!

Her raven cawed that if they split up, they’d cover more distance, and she nodded. “Good plan—go, we’re running out of time!”

It flew off, and Lilith continued on foot, glaring down at Morton’s map and at her surroundings.

“Where are you?!”

A scream shattered the air, and Lilith’s heart just about stopped in her chest.

“Hunter!”

Lilith bolted back towards where she’d left him, her feet sliding and stumbling in the sand. She came to the crest of a dune, and saw a huge desert cat pawing at Hunter, batting him to the side with massive paws. Its claws were sheathed—it was toying with him. He’d curled into a ball to protect himself, but the creature wouldn’t let up.

“HEY!” Lilith yelled, waving her arms, “LEAVE HIM ALONE!”

It paused, looking up at her, and she drew a fire glyph on the ground, blasting it. The thing shrieked, leaving Hunter crumpled on the ground and coming after her instead. Lilith backed up fast, drawing glyphs on the ground and shooting all the magic she had at it.

It batted away an ice spike and swiped at her, its claws extended. Lilith stumbled backwards, but her foot hit a patch of particularly soft sand and sank.

Claws slashed across her leg, tearing into her skin, and Lilith screamed, her vision going spotty. Still, she drew one last glyph, and a spike of ice speared the thing right in the neck. It yowled and dashed away, apparently deciding she and Hunter weren’t worth the effort.

Lilith yanked her foot out of the sand, limping towards Hunter in a series of gasps of pain. She collapsed next to him. “You—alright?” she murmured, pressing a hand uselessly to her injured leg.

He was struggling to breathe, whether from the attack, or the poison, she couldn’t tell. Still, his bloodshot eyes latched onto her. “You… came… back…?”

Xxx

He couldn’t breathe—it hurt to breathe, it hurt to move, everything just ached and throbbed, and his insides felt like they were twisting around, tying themselves into knots.

Lilith reached a shaking, bloodstained hand out towards him. “Of… course…”

Of course. She needed him to clear her name.

She smiled at him, small and gentle, and then squeezed her eyes shut, wincing.

Oh.

It wasn’t just about securing her innocence.

He reached with a trembling hand for her, nudging her, trying to get her to wake up, but her eyes stayed shut. Even if she had been able to wake up, would she be able to walk?

My fault.

She got hurt defending me.

Hunter coughed, and coughed, and retched, his lungs aching. He blinked at his hand, his vision blurry.

Blood.

I’m falling apart.

“H-help,” he murmured, breaking off into another round of coughing, his mouth filled with the taste of blood that he spit out on the sand. His heart was fluttering frantically in his chest, pounding against his ribs like it was trying to burst out of his body.

“H-help,” he murmured

He heard a caw, and Lilith’s raven swooped down from the sky, nudging its witch.

“H-help,” he croaked again, his eyes drooping shut.

Voices shouted, and he was weightless, strong arms lifting him off of the ground. He could see Lilith, or at least a dark blur he thought was her, next to him, and his fingers twitched, reaching for her.

Stay strong.

Xxx

“Wakey wakey.”

Lilith blinked at the ceiling. Her leg throbbed, but… where was she?!

The person who had woken her—a witch with blue hair—smiled at her, holding out her dormant palisman. “Your raven found us. Good thing, too, you and your kid were half dead. We stitched you up, gave you a blood-booster—you’ll be okay.”

Lilith sat upright. “Hunter! The poison! You have the antidote?”

The witch winced. “We’ve… hit a bit of a problem with that.”

Lilith surged out of bed, grabbing her collar. “What do you mean a—”

Her leg twinged, and she fell. The witch grabbed her arms, supporting her. “Come on. I’ll show you.”

The witch helped her through stark-white hallways, taking her to a room with a one-way window. Lilith could see Hunter through the window, pale and blood-stained, and she pressed her hand to the glass.

“Why aren’t you helping him?!”

“He won’t let us. Every time we try to give him the antidote, he reacts violently. Gasps that he can’t trust us, flails—the only thing stronger than the poison, it seems, is his fear.”

Lilith’s heart clenched.

You can’t trust anyone.

This was her fault.

“Let me try?”

The witch shrugged, handing Lilith a small vial. “He needs to drink that. And fast—he’s at a critical stage, if he doesn’t take that soon, it’ll be too late.”

Lilith snatched up the vial, pushing open the door and limping in. She sat down next to Hunter’s bed, and his eyes opened, frantic, his pupils huge in tiny irises.

“Hello,” she said softly.

His shoulders relaxed, just a bit. “Lilith…”

She unstoppered the vial, swirling the contents. “You need to take this.”

He shook his head. “P-poison…”

Lilith put her hand over his. “Hunter. We’re safe, now. These people aren’t emperor’s coven, they don’t even know who we are.”

He coughed, blood speckling his lips. “It… hurts…”

“I know. I know.” Lilith held the vial up. “This will help. I promise. But you have to drink it.”

He shook his head again.

“Hunter. I know it’s hard, I know you’ve been betrayed, you’ve had to hide and lie in the coven to protect yourself. I know I haven’t always been the best to you. But I need you to trust me. Just this once, please, trust me. Can you do that?”

His magenta eyes locked on hers, terrified, pained, exhausted. And he nodded.

Lilith put the vial to his lips and tilted it back. He drank it, still shuddering and coughing, then closed his eyes, falling back onto the bed with a sigh. He was still shivering uncontrollably, and when Lilith brushed his forehead with her hand, his temperature was too high.

Just trust it will help.

Trust it wasn’t too late.

Lilith squeezed his hand.

“You’re going to be okay,” she murmured, half trying to convince herself.

The blue-haired witch pushed open the door. “We can handle it from here,” she promised, putting a gentle hand on Lilith’s shoulder, “He’ll heal. It’s not going to be an easy recovery, That’s a nasty poison, how did it happen?”

Lilith sighed, rubbing her throbbing leg. “He… has some powerful enemies.”

“At his age?”

“Please, just…”

“Right. None of my business. Come along, we’ll take care of him, you need recover yourself. That’s a nasty bunch of scratches.”

Lilith shook her head. “I’m staying.”

The witch shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

She bustled out, and Lilith gave Hunter’s hand a squeeze. His breathing was already starting to even out, but his face was still creased with pain. Lilith put her forehead to his.

I want to understand.

“With this spell declared,” she murmured, “Let the pain be shared.”

Almost immediately, her gut seemed to burst, writhing and twisting, like she was being stabbed over and over again. She doubled over, gasping for breath.

He’s been feeling this the whole time?!

Hunter’s face relaxed just a bit, his breathing getting just a little bit easier. Lilith pressed her arms to her stomach, waiting as the pain slowly faded to a dull ache.

How could Kikimora…?

How could anyone—to a kid!

How could he stand it for so long?

Lilith brushed Hunter’s hair out of his face. “You’ve been so brave,” she whispered. He twitched, his eyes opening. They were exhausted, droopy, but alert.

“Hey,” she said softly, “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” he croaked. He groaned. “Oh—Emperor Belos is going to be so mad.”

“He’ll be angrier at Kikimora, I’m sure.” Even if he’d ignored the poisoning plot, it actually being carried out and taking Hunter away from coven duties for a few days was another matter.

He’ll be okay.

Emperor Belos won’t let this go unpunished—Kikimora won’t be let near him

I have to believe that.

Kikimora wasn’t the only problem he faced, though. Could she really let him go back, knowing how things were at the coven? How Belos was?

Hunter pushed himself up. He was still shaky, still weak, but he swung his legs out of bed. “I should go.”

Lilith pushed him back. “You were only just cured, and it’s dangerous out there—give it a couple of days, at least.”

He shook his head, and Lilith could see a flash of fear in those magenta eyes, making her wonder if maybe not all of the shaking was from the aftereffects of the poison. “I—I’ve been away from the coven long enough, I need to go back, I need to report in. I need to go h—to the keep.”

Lilith caught his hand as he tried to go. “Hunter—if you go back to the coven—”

“I’ll be sure to clear your name. Maybe I’ll even put in a good word for you—you did save my life, after all.”

“No, that wasn’t what I was going to ask. I just… do you want to go back?”

He pulled away from her, shuffling towards the door on unsteady feet. “That doesn’t matter.”

He was out the door, leaving her sitting in her chair.

This is what you wanted.

He’ll clear your name.

Heal the boy.

Split ways forever.

That had been her plan, that was what she’d hoped for.

But if she did nothing, he’d stay in the coven. She’d had Eda to pull her out of the coven, away from Belos. If she did nothing, who would pull Hunter away?

Lilith pushed herself to her feet, summoning her staff and leaning heavily on it, hobbling out into the hallway.

“Hunter, wait!” she called.

He stopped, turning back towards her.

“Don’t go,” she panted, limping up to him, “You don’t have to go back to the keep.”

“What?!” he yelped.

“They think you’re dead by now—you don’t have to go back, they’re not expecting you back, because they think you’re dead. You can do whatever you want.”

“Where would I go?!”

“Stay with me,” she said impulsively, “We made a good team—we can get your palisman and then leave the coven behind forever. If you want.”

Just don’t go back.

You’re miserable.

They make you shut up.

They don’t care about you.

They make you work when you’re hurting.

They make you feel useless, replaceable.

Just don’t go back.

Her raven cawed a soft “what are you doing” warning. Hunter blinked, bewildered.

“But what about you, what about clearing you?! If they think I’m dead, they’ll think you’re a murderer!”

Lilith waved a hand. “My sister managed to evade capture for years. You and I, two emperor’s coven heads? Please. They’ll never catch us.” She took his hands. “You don’t have to stay with me if you don’t want to. But… Hunter, I don’t want you to go back. You have a chance to start over—you finally have a say in your future. What do you want?”

Xxx

What do I want?

What did he want?

To go back. To go back to his uncle, back to his coven, back to his life.

But the idea of not going back, the idea of getting his palisman and setting off on his own—or maybe with Lilith—was frighteningly appealing, exciting.

No. Belos cares about you. He needs you—go back.

Or…

Hunter’s heart thumped wildly in his chest as a horrible, treacherous idea started circulating in his head.

Go back.

Sneak in.

See how Belos was reacting to his supposed death.

See if he really cared.

It was ridiculous, it was risky, and it was treason, it was a betrayal, he couldn’t do that to his uncle, he couldn’t let him think he was dead just for some kind of—of—of selfish self-affirmation!

He still wanted to do it.

No. No, no, no. Even if he didn’t want to go back to the coven—which he did—he couldn’t leave Lilith in the lurch like that. She’d gone through all of this, had taken him all the way here, had gotten injured so that he could clear her name. Even if she said it was okay, he couldn’t do that to her.

Yes.

Going back was the right thing to do.

His legs wouldn’t take the step.

Lilith had never liked him in the coven, no matter how much he tried. When he’d been younger, he’d tried to get into her interests, tried to learn about history to get close to her, tried everything he could to get in her good graces. He’d realized at about thirteen that she’d never like him, and he was wasting his time, and Belos loved him and that was what mattered. Once he’d stopped trying for her approval, once he decided to treat her like she treated him, he’d thought that would be the end of it.

Now? Now Lilith wanted him to stay.

Huh, all it took was a poisoning.

He told himself it didn’t matter, he told himself that the approval of a traitor, the approval of some person who wasn’t even in charge of him anymore didn’t matter.

That didn’t eliminate the warm glow he felt at being wanted.

It didn’t eliminate her voice whispering you’re brave, you’re strong.

It didn’t eliminate a bigger hand closing over his own.

Which was why he had to go—besides, the fact, of course, that he wanted to go back, of course he did.

For her.

Despite her words, he knew the coven would track her down eventually. If they hurt her, it would be his fault for not clearing her name.

So go with her.

Protect her.

He hesitated, not wanting to pull his hands away. “I… I don’t want to go,” he said in a small voice.

“Then stay,” Lilith said simply, “We can make it work. If you want.”

I do. I do want. “We’ll get my palisman?”

“We’ll get your palisman.”

I’m sorry, Uncle.

Maybe I’ll come back some day.

But I want to figure out my own future.

Hunter pulled his hands out of hers. “You really think we make a good team?”

She wrinkled her nose. “I think we can. If we don’t kill each other first.”

Hunter’s heart pounded in his chest, the blood roaring in his ears.

Go. Don’t go. Stay. Leave. Coven. Traitor. Stay. Leave. Stay. Leave. Stayleavestayleavestayleavestayleavestay.

Hunter shook his head, clearing his thoughts. No turning back.

“Then let’s make it work.”

[tanya8]

PART 1 :THE ART

Blood on the table ,

The painting's a bloody canvas,

Love me or hate me,

Still wouldn't change a thing,

I already hate myself,

Why try so hard to love me?,

Can't you see the pain from my art...

PART 2: THE BLACK ROSE

Swinging through vines in the ruins,

Then I saw a black rose bleeding,

It was empty and neglected,

Blood oozing through the petals,

Didnt have anything left to give,

filled with hate,

No love left to give,

Started to wither,

And the darkness of the night swallowed it

I know you see the pain from my art......

PART 3: THE POISON & POTION

Where it all started,

I Drank a potion,

The witch gave me in the castle,

She Mixed it up in a black pot,

With special spices I fear to name,

She added a great amount of self hate,

Loss,self hurt and rejection,

Ruin, misfortune and exclusion

And even till this day I'm still stuck in the stimulation Spinning in the same wheel of misfortune

Now you see the pain in my art...

[catharrington]

Strawberry Seeds and Love Potions. (T, 2.4K words)

@harringroveweekoflove day 2: LOVE POTION && MYTHOLOGICAL CREATURES. Also including: witch Robin, post season 3 recovering Billy, flustered but giving it his best Steve, and cat boys. Or cat men? No, cat boys.

***

The coffee mug clicked onto the table with an otherworldly menace. Steve’s brown eyes darted to it, then back up to Robin. He furrowed his brows in a question. But before he could open his mouth, she held up her hand.

“It’s not poison,” she explained.

“Could have fooled me, Robs,” Steve hissed.

“It’s called a potion, dingus. It’s going to help!” She pushed the cup farther down the bar. The diner around them was mostly closed, and Robin was the only waitress in the place. Her peach colored apron brought out the green of her wide, devious eyes.

“Potion... poison... that’s like one letter different,” Steve leaned back in his stool away from the mug.

“Wow, so you know how to spell. What other skills will you showcase, The Amazing Harrington?” Robin’s lips curled up in an evil grin, leaning her body over the bar to dig the insult farther.

Steve just scoffed. Putting his elbow up on the bar and shielding himself as he tried to get back to the open College text book he was supposed to be reading. All the words were rushing together in swirls of black and white. He pushed his thumb into his curved bottom lip to try and force himself to focus, chewed on the pad of it, but he could swear the mug was mocking him.

Could swear he could smell that strawberry pink liquid Robin had poured for him when he ordered a simple black coffee.

“Drink it,” Robin snapped.

“No,” Steve growled.

“Are you going to grow a backbone and actually confess then?” She quirked one brow up.

Her face was so condescending. So smug. Steve hated how much he knew that look, how it made him sort of fond for her.

“I mean,” he sighed. His walls crumbling in defeat. His fingers coming up to join in worrying his bottom lip. “I mean I might?”

“It’s been a year Steve. A year of following him around like a little stray kitten! A year of ‘Oh Billy, I’ll give you a ride!’ ‘Oh Billy, how was physical therapy?’ ‘Oh Billy, pay attention to me!’—“

“I get it, I get it!” Steve turned towards her again to motion with his hand to keep it down. Waving his wide palm around until Robin’s pursed face cracked into a giggle. “Just keep it down, would you?”

And he turns over his shoulder to survey the empty diner before he’s got enough courage to look at her again.

“Yeah, okay. I’ve got a fat, stupid crush on Billy. And I know that I’m the most embarrassing and dumb guy you know. But...,” he trails off. Eyes wandering back down to the coffee cup. “It’s not the same as Nancy Wheeler or even Tammy Thompson. So much can— no, so much has gone wrong. If I... confessed right now, It would just make everything too much for him.”

His fingers nervously tick across the mint green bar. Wishing like hell he could cross them in front of his chest and make a barrier.

Robin takes a step forward. Her own fingers an inch away from his. She twitches like she can’t make up her mind if she wants to grab them. Like someone worrying their bottom lip if they are going to pick the last slice of pie in the diner’s glass container. But she does, reaching out to lay her skinny fingers and their chipping black nail polish over his own.

“Dingus,” she starts lovingly, “you don’t know any of that.”

Steve scoffs, rolls his eyes like he’s going to turn away, but Robin holds his hand tightly.

“You don’t know if it’s too much for him, or what he wants. And you don’t,” Robin took a second before continuing, her breath hitching, “you don’t know what’s going to happen tomorrow.”

Hawkins, Indiana is the poster town for unknown tomorrow’s. Steve knows way too well about that. The tunnels crawling with slime and vines that play host to the monsters of the world.

But Billy, he surely knows better than anyone. It’s been a whole year but noone’s going to ever forget what he did. What happened to him under the control of a creature called The Mind Flayer. How Billy used himself like a human shield and died to try to make up for it. Just to come back with an electric jolt to his tattered heart.

They had to stitch new lungs inside his chest. He called himself Zombie Boy now. Called the patchwork scars heavy metal.

Steve just smiled. Nodded his head as he watched Billy climb out the crumbled wreckage of his shell. Climb out a new man, a man Steve caught himself falling head over heels for.

“You’re right, Robs,” Steve exhales.

“Oh, what was that?” Robin giggled, leaning in to hear better.

Steve pushed her away by their joint hands. Wiggling his fingers afterwards as if cursed.

His breath quipped and held tight in his chest as he turned back to the coffee mug. It sat waiting for him. The light red liquid swimming with foam and black seeds at the top. As if no matter how long it sat, it was always freshly prepared.

Steve gripped the handle of the white mug hard. Thought about how quick Billy’s body hit the ground when he died. How quick it all felt to Steve who had to helplessly stand back and watch it all.

He lifted the mug to his lips and drank in desperate, greedy gulps.

And as he finished it and slammed the ceramic back down on the bar, he didn’t immediately feel different. His mouth felt strange, the red juice had a powdery after-taste and much more seeds than his gag reflex was expecting. But as he screwed up his face from the flavor, he didn’t feel changed. Or empowered. Or whatever Robin was trying out with this magic spell.

“I don’t—,” Steve started, but his voice stopped just as it started. His head pounded like a drum was beating right next to his ears.

Doubling over in his stool, he gripped at the sides of his head in a panic. His whole skull felt like it was vibrating. Shifting around even, his scalp moving at the top of his head as if something were to burst out.

Steve grabbed two fist fulls of his hair and groaned through the wave of pain. Burying his chin in his chest to try and stop the noises before they came. It was so painful, but somehow only lasted a second.

As sudden as it came, he felt fine again.

Steve jerked his head up to scream at Robin , when he noticed her eyes wandering to the top of his head.

He followed them with hesitant fingers, slowly running up his now messy head of quaffed brown locks under his fingertips brushed something new.

Giving an undignified yelp, he drew his hand backwards as if burnt. His eyes were wide and pleading with Robin. But she watched him right back with the same face. As if she didn’t make this, as if it wasn’t her poison potion that created this.

Steve timidly touched the new addition to his head again. This time he didn’t finch as his fingertips sank into hair that felt soft as fur. Following it up to a point, and then feeling as it curved inwards to softer peach fuzz.

He could feel something, as his fingers moved, he could feel them as easily as if he were touching the lobes of his ears.

Because he was touching his ears.

A quick glance to a dingy mirror hanging at the back of the bar confirmed it for him. There was a pretty pair of brown cat ears sprung from the top of his head.

“Robin,” he breathed. Unable to fully grasp how he felt. “What was that drink exactly?”

She blinked at him, gathering her thoughts before she cleared her throat. “It’s um, it’s supposed to be a charm. An aid, like-like an enhancer. It said it would bring out the traits that the person you craft the potion for desires the most.”

Then she stopped to laugh, her red lips caught between gaping open or turning up on the corners in a mocking laugh. “I didn’t— wow! I thought worst case scenario would be you’ll turn into an asshole like you were in high school. B-But this?”

Steve looked from her back to the mirror. Wrapping one hand around the pointed triangle of his ear. Pushing it down just to watch it perk back up again.

“I’m... I’m a cat boy?” Steve stutters out a gasping breath.

“Well, more like a cat man, really,” Robin tries to help. “Come on, you’re almost old enough to buy beer.”

“Really helpful, Robs, thanks so much for the curse and now the insults!” He shouts.

Holding up her hands in defense, her smile doesn’t drop. Even in her shoulders Steve can see she’s quivering with laugher.

He feels along the base of his new ears. How the fur is the same color and melts almost perfectly into his own silky hair. How it feels good, actually, to scratch his blunt nails there just like how a house cat would enjoy it.

“This isn’t some trait. Or some, something that Billy would find attractive in me.” Steve groans. “This is some freaky kink!”

Robin finally clasps her hand over her mouth to dam up the waterfall of laugher. It hits against her palm in a muffled, annoying, cruel noise. She shakes her head as if she wanted to argue but couldn’t get past how funny she found it.

“You must have mixed up the wrong stuff, Robin! Put the wrong magical thing in the mixture!” Steve tried to shake his head out to unstick his thoughts.

He runs his hands through his hair as he does when he gets flustered, and now his cat ears bend with the motion so they don’t get tugged on. Folding neatly onto his head before bouncing back up to attention.

It felt so weird, but somehow it didn’t feel very different at all. They acted as if they’ve always been there.

“Yeah, okay, that’s it,” Steve nodded to himself. “You gave me the wrong potion. It’s okay, it happens! Just whip up a new one that’s for reversing cat ears. That’s in your witch book right?”

Robin kept her hand over her mouth and kept shaking her head. She wasn’t replying to anything Steve said. And it was honestly making him more mad than the new ears on top of his head.

“Hey, is it really funny enough for all that?” he mused.

Then Steve looked back up at the mirror. He turned his head side to side to admire the way his ears moved with him. How they were his hair color on the outside then a flushed pink in the very middle. How there were strands of lighter brown between that and those reminded him of how highlighted his hair gets in the summer sun.

“I don’t know. I think they... I think they sort of suit me?” He shrugged.

Robin dropped her hands and her laugher was louder without it, but she managed to catch her breath to finally reply. “Oh, they suit you alright. You’re a natural at this stuff, Garfield.”

Steve furrowed his eye brows. Cat ears folding down on his head in defense. “I’m not orange,” he hissed back.

Robin opened her mouth with likely more insults and no actual help from the aspiring witch who caused all this mess, when she was interrupted. The bell above the entrance letting out a loud ding.

The front door, painted in matching mint green like the bar, swung open. And like he was summoned, like his ears were simply ringing so much from being talked about he hunted down the source, in walked Billy.

He was wearing a grey hoodie. One of many that he collected once he got discharged out of his hospital. This one Steve was familiar with, because it was his. Handed down with a coat and a couple other winter items as Steve feigned indifference over concern about Billy’s California blood staying warm. An old Hawkins High baseball league logo sitting right in the middle. It’s fading green and orange design still bright enough to make Steve’s breath catch in his throat.

“Hey, Harrington,” Billy greeted. He lifted his big, scarred hand to wipe the hood down from his head. Letting loose the wild mess of short curls that are regrowing on his head.

“Hey, Billy,” Steve croaked out. His voice was awkward. His face, he knew, must be blushing bright red.

He turned to seek help from Robin, but the swinging door that lead into the kitchen was rocking back and forth on its hinges. She must have run away as soon as Billy came in. And Steve was too busy watching his entrance to even notice.

Cursing under his breath, Steve racked his brain with an excuse. Some logical way to explain why he had sprouted two new fluffy ears off his head.

He felt like he was playing a pinball machine in his head. Flashing lights and jingling noises were going off. But nothing was coming to him. He couldn’t find any words to offer at all to Billy.

So he whipped his head to the side, watched as Billy stopped glancing around the empty diner to finally settle on Steve.

And he watches as Billy’s gorgeous, totally unfair pretty blue eyes lift to see the cat ears on his head.

“Woah, Harrington,” Billy exhales like he’s blowing a mouth full of cigarette smoke. “That’s really—,”

“I know, Billy, okay! It’s um, um?” Steve waves his hands around as if that can turn the wheels of his thinking some more. But he can’t think. Not well anyway, when Billy’s standing here looking so handsome, so warm, and so alive right in front of him.

“Yeah, okay, I can totally explain this—,”

Billy cuts him off with a soft chuckle. Just under his breath. Steve closes his mouth quick enough to make his teeth click.

“I don’t know, Steve. Ya don’t have to explain it. It’s kinda cute, actually,” Billy drawls out his words low and soft. And then smiles at him.

A second ticks by. Billy’s boots skid on the tile as he steps even closer. All the way until he’s right next to Steve. Grabbing the back of a stool right next to him.

And Billy hasn’t taken his eyes off Steve’s ears once. And he’s got a little sparkle in them like the first time Billy got a point over him during basket ball practice back in high school. And oh, oh.

“Cute?” Steve parrots back.

“Yeah, super cute,” Billy confesses.