#how's this for biting my tongue?? look how silent I will be!! am I redeeming myself yet??

[unwavering-devotion]

You're all forbidden from asking me any more questions about Him, and especially from making any outlandish claims. I will not be answering them, if I see them.

[deadbys3x]

He told me I look like a renaissance painting and you can see it at first glance. My soft stomach, cheeks made for a grandma to grab, round eyes and perky tits. I’ve always looked approachable in that way, assuming that birds were angels and their singing was God’s way into the soul. I’ve always thanked the bus driver and bought the first round of drinks.

So I wonder what she would think if she heard that. In a house with glass ridden floors, I refused to wear socks. In a house with holes in the walls, I’d stick my hands in just to feel the dust. It took 7 days to get me out. Born not crying but screaming, the number 4 between my eyebrows. I was born rejecting God. I was born begging to be recognised.

I tried to eat courtesy like every other little girl and swallowed it whole. ‘Thank you’ and ‘I’m sorry’ became the sweets of my youth, rotting my teeth away until I couldn���t chew. And I am forever grateful that my tongue is filled with bite scars. That I can finally be silent without bleeding.

I relish in it.

I fucking repent it.

I spend every waking moment curdling my throat to ask for my trespasses to be forgiven. And if I am redeemed, if I was virtuous enough, maybe a bird will perch itself on my window sill and maybe he’ll bring heaven to earth and I will be able to talk once more. I could put my actions into words and be so fucking harsh, like I was created to be. Eating, drinking, speaking, loving, hating, fucking, I could never do any of it grey. It’s all or nothing baby, I am entirely obsessed or completely apathetic. It is black or it is white from when it is dark until I see the light.

When I am soft, I am fragile, I’m so fucking breakable.

When I am tough, I am jagged, I am fucking untouchable.

And so, my darling, I love to love and I love you so much, but I am far from the tenderness you crave. You can’t experience safety from danger, as I can’t have love without violence. So you run into my arms to rest for a little while, you put up with rough elbows and sharp nails because at least you can sleep here. I try to kiss your cheeks but it's more like a bite. And what do you expect?

I like to be hit and strangled during sex. I walked on glass barefoot. The women of my family marry men who are engulfed in anger to see if their punches can match our sobs. And when they do we never leave. We never leave because devotion is to be under the threat of the knife, the brick, the gun, and still be told ‘I love you’ at bedtime. They slap us silent and kiss us before we can take a breath, their spit filling our mouths, digesting their lineage. and I have no clue how to live on my own. I have no fucking idea how to separate gentleness from performance.

The 4 on my forehead has to be God’s biggest joke. Like he put it there for his own entertainment, like he grew tired of being benevolent. And I am the product of that exhaustion. They say we have to behave in God’s image and I execute it perfectly. All the contradictions in the bible, all the war and hatred, embodied in a baby girl that arrived with dirt under all 10 finger nails and all 32 teeth. I was born rotting. I live to breathe and I will not grieve as I die.

He said I looked like a renaissance painting.

Ladybirds land on me and I still search for birds in the trees.

I am never going to heaven.

My hands will hold yours forever.

[redeemers-and-dragons]

Redeemers: Greenest in Flames! Part 3

Narration: *The tunnels below Greenrest is dark, damp, and filled with the echoes of skittering rats. The walls are cracked, covered in moss, and cobwebs hang from the ceiling. Jaune leads Cinder and Neo with the help of a torch, shining light on the ground to reveal any rats for either Cinder to lob a firebolt or Neo to shoot with her hand crossbow.*

Cinder: …You know, after running through a town under siege from masked men and a dragon, this would have been the last thing I thought I’d have had to do today.

Jaune: *Awkwardly chuckles* It’s certainly a change of pace, isn’t it? But hey, if it’s a job that needs doing, we gotta do it.

Cinder: *Rolls her eyes* There’s hardly any rodents around this tunnel to even warrant a “rat problem". I’m sure the fleeing refugees that are going to be running through this tunnel are not going to be too picky about a few rats.

Neo: *Is silently counting each rat she sees. With each kill, she casts an illusionary sound of a bell.* Ding... Ding…

Jaune: Well think about it this way, the real goal here is to secure the tunnel, investigate the secret entrance, and make sure it's safe for us and the villagers. Killing the rats is more of a side objective to make sure that they don’t bite someone and spread a plague in the keep.

Cinder: Fine, I’ll admit there’s importance to this task. But only if you admit that it’s bullshit that we are the ones doing it and not the guards.

Neo: *Casts Minor Illusion to conjure a voice.* “You’re just upset that I’m getting more kills than you.”

Cinder: By all means, the title of “Rat Queen” is all yours.

Neo: *Sticks her tongue out as she nails another rat.* Ding.

Cinder: Anyway, now that we have a lull in excitement, how about we take this time to become better acquainted? Seeing as the possibility of us all dying together has risen significantly.

Jaune: Grim way of pitching it, but sure. What would you like to know?

Cinder: Well , what made you want to become a paladin? No offense, but you seem a little… “too sweet,” for this kind of work.

Jaune: Oh, I guess you can say that’s because my dad is a paladin. And so was my grandpa. And my great grandpa. And my great-great grandpa…

Neo: *Conjures Minor Illusion* “Does every man in your family have to be a paladin or something?”

Jaune: N-No, not really. It’s not like it’s a mandatory thing. It just sort of made sense. I wanted to help people, and paladins help people. *Laughs bashfully* I know, I know it's a boring answer. But I can't put it any other way other than... I like to do it. It's my calling.

Cinder: Gods, you really are “sickly sweet.”

Neo: *Gags mockingly*

Jaune: *Blushes* W-Well what about you? What made you want to worship… Satan?

Cinder: *Huffs* I don’t worship Satan, Boy. I am a servant of the demonette, Lilistor. She’s an up and comer, and has gained quite the following since I came along. As for how I came to be in her employ… let’s just say I wasn’t in the position to be too choosy with how I survived. Lilistor was there when I had nothing else… *A brief moment of silence.* Enough about me, what about you Neo? What made you into the career criminal you are today?

Neo: *Shrugs before casting minor illusion* Because stealing is fun. *Fires off another bolt that sticks a rat in the rear, causing it to squeak and immediately limp into a hole in a nearby barricaded passage. Neo looks annoyed and crawls over to the hole to reach in to try and grab the rat. All of sudden she hisses in pain and yanks her arm back out, shaking her bitten hand.*

Jaune: Neo! You ok? *Goes over and checks her finger*

Neo: *Pouts with a single tear in her eye, glares at Jaune and then points demandingly at the barricaded passage.*

Jaune: Sure, I think I get it. Hold this a second. *Jaune hands her the torch and puts both hands on either side of the passage before rearing a single swift kick into the rotten wood to make a much bigger hole.*

Narration: In the dim light of the torch, a single rat lies still, with an arrow piercing its rear end. The black shadows behind it dance and twitch with the glow of hundreds - maybe even thousands - of bright red eyes, each pair of them a pinprick of glowing malice within the darkness.

Jaune: …Uh oh.

Neo: *Unable to scream, did the very next best thing, dropping her torch and jumping into Jaune’s arms like a cat running up  a tree.*

Rat Swarm: *Start surging out in a wave of vermin bodies, immediately engulfing the torch and making towards Jaune’s armored boots.* Squeaksqueaksqueaksqueak!

Jaune: *Back pedaling frantically towards Cinder* C-C-C-CINDERRRR!

Cinder: *Stares in shock for only a moment before snarling and pushing past Jaune and Neo and holding out her arm* Burning Hands!

Narration: The dark tunnel suddenly fills with flames. The sound of roaring fire and death squeal of hundreds of rats were deafening. The smell of smoke and burnt hair was overwhelming. The heat of the hellish power was scorching. After a few seconds, the fire from Cinder’s hand stopped coming forth, leaving the only light in the tunnel to be the pile of small burning carcasses.

Cinder: *Slightly out of breath* Alright, so maybe there really was a “rat problem.” You two alright?

Jaune/Neo:

Jaune: Y-Yeah. Good job. Guess all that leaves is to check the entrance. *Goes to put Neo down before suddenly being choked.*

Neo: *Holding onto Jaune’s neck like a vice, conjuring another auditory illusion.* “If you think I’m stepping on this ground after that, you have another thing coming. Carry me.

Narration: Jaune, Neo, and Cinder make their way to the end of the tunnel and find the locked grate. It’s worn and rusted, but it should be able to open with a good twist of a key or a hard knock. They can peer outside through the grating to see some overgrown foliage and the night sky.

Cinder: Hear anything?

Neo: *Shakes her head.*

Jaune: Looks like the raiders haven’t found this entrance yet. That’s good.

Cinder: *Seems pleased.* That’s very good. Now all we have to do is head back-

Bell Toll: RING. RING. RING. RING.

Cinder: What is that?

Jaune: …That’s a church bell. Something is wrong. We have to hurry back to the keep!

~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~

The Party: *The party meets back together at the highest parapet of the keep with Governor Nighthill, who is currently looking off towards the sound of the ringing bell in town.* 

Adam: What is it? Reinforcements?

Neon: Ours or theirs?

Nighthill: No. That’s the bell of the Temple of Chauntea. It must be villagers calling for help!

May: *Pulls out a periscope* I see a group of invaders surrounding it. It looks like they have a battering ram.

Jaune: We have to help them. Governor, we just secured the tunnel. What’s the fastest route to the Temple?

Nighthill: The river winds right behind the church. Follow the water and into the surrounding treeline, you should be unnoticed. Quickly, form a rescue team and get there as soon as you can!

[batstorm93672]

"Let me go ahead, it'll be easier to catch him Batman"

"I said no Jason"

Damian stopped and looked at his father who didn't seem to even get what he said as he kept talking into his comm. Damian looked back down, at his gloved palm. What did it mean being called someone else? It's not the first time. It is never the first time, he was called Steph, Dick, Tim and Jason before. He was always shocked at that moment.

Does his father ever consider the fact that he is Damian? That his name is Damian, that he is his own being in comparison to his other family members? Does Bruce ever take that into account? Or will he always be someone else? His urge and struggle to be worth lest he fails and is no longer wanted, Dick called it abuse, Damian called it normal upbringing.

.

"Tim you have to wait, sometimes things aren't that clear, bad guys have ways of setting traps and even if it feels safe sometimes it's not"

Another name. Not his. Just another name. Damian looked at his feet, kicking some dust about. Batman didn't really notice when he called him different names and even if he did, Damian couldn't tell because Batman got silent after doing so. Never bringing it up and Damian is horrible at trying to bring it up as well so it's never addressed.

.

Damian kept petting Titus as he read his book, Stephanie was on her phone scrolling through whatever, Jason was also reading and Tim was on his laptop. It was a comforting silence until Dick's footsteps drew close. "Hey Timmy what are you reading?" Damian kept quiet "Oh my bad Dames. Thought you were Tim" "Tt. Apparently so does father, might as well be one of you instead of myself" Dick frowned a bit as everyone looked up at Damian "He's doing it again?" "I was called Jason and Tim recently, you two as well on different occasions" Jason put a bookmark on his page as he looked at Damian "How bad is it?" "I... I've been compared enough times, I need to speak with him, I tire of twiddling my thumbs and waiting for him to make the first move" "Are you sure? He's not the best at social conversations with us" "I know, but... Richard-" Damian looked at Dick who kept standing in the doorway "-you have said that communicating with one another is a fundamental part of relationship" "Yeah I did" "So I shall go to father" "I believe in you" Damian got a little brighter with that confidence, walking out towards Bruce's study.

.

Knocking, Damian felt his hands become sweaty as time seemed to slow down.

Cease at once, I am Damian Wayne, son of the Bat and Demon. I must speak to father as one

"Come in"

Damian opened the door, Bruce was going through papers "Damian. Is there something I can help you with? Do you want to hang out?" Bruce always leaped at the idea of his children bonding with him. Most likely his sorta crappy childcare and wanting to redeem himself (Damian thought he was bad at times, but he means well and everyone knows this no matter how much they all make fun of him) "I wished to ask on our outings, you have called me by my siblings names more so the ones who have deemed the name Robin before... if I have done something wrong I wish to know how you want me to improve" Bruce looked surprised "What? No, you didn't do anything wrong. Why would it mean you did something wrong,"

"What else could it be? Obviously I've messed up as the others have before, I just have to do better and prove that I'm Damian the blood son who won't make mistakes and prove my worth lest I become irrelevant"

Bruce looked hurt and he moved the papers in front of him away "Damian, do you feel like that all the time?"

Damian felt his cheeks burn a bit, did he say something wrong? Is this not how he was supposed to feel on the matter? "Is this... wrong of me? I am supposed to be Robin, a perfect warrior for you" "Damian you are my child-" "Why can't I be what everyone wants?!"

Damian wanted to bite his tongue, he didn't mean to shout "I'm sorry--" "Damian, who I need is you. You are my son and I love you. Calling you a different name during patrol isn't my intention, I love every one of you and sometimes I get caught in a moment. I think on something else and I get confused, but that doesn't mean I love you any less Damian"

"I am still useful... right? Why else would you keep me for this long?"

"Because I love you, not just as Robin. But as Damian Wayne, my son whom I love and cherish with all my heart just like everyone else. You don't need to compare yourself with them. I love you as you are son"

Damian smiled a bit and went around the desk to hug his father as much as he could "I love you too father"

[kpop-dungeon-dark]

The Gamble Of Prides. (Mafia!Baekhyun x You)

•TRIGGER WARNING•

Warning(s): Non-Con, public humiliation, exhibitionism, cum play, knife play, gun play, fear play. Both of you are legal in this. Read at own risk.

It took Y/n a moment to realise what had just happened, eyes widening slowly as she looked up from Mafioso Byun's final cards and at his smug face. "N- No… No way…" Her friend facepalmed in great stress and fear of all the men surrounding them in Byun's bar. That did not just happen. "How is that possible?" Smashing the cigarette in her hand against the table, Y/n stood up. "There is no way you won this time! I am not just good-- I am GREAT at this! How could you win?! Not when I-..." Y/n trailed off from her own words, not willing to admit that she was cheating. Since the beginning.

The older man shrugged. "Well… maybe you're not that good, Miss. I mean…" Him and his men chuckled at the 4 foreign kids visiting their country for vacation. "You lost 4 games in a row along allllll that you had" taking a drag of his cigar, the man smirked devilishly. "Confidence is good but overconfidence will drown you in the sea of reality, in the wise words of Norain."

The girl was clenching her fists, every fiber of her body loathing him. Y/n hated just how fucking smug he was.

"You bastard!"

Byun chuckled. "Adorable. So you remember all that you put on the table, right?" The female gulped, the recent memories of how she bet her body at last when she had nothing left to gamble with. A laugh left the man when she backed away and tried to run, which resulted in Byun's right hand that was sharper than an eagle, Sehun, to grip her arm before throwing her whole body back and in the Boss' feet. "Tsk. I honestly thought you were an honourable young lady. But the way you tried to run away from your own words?"

"P- Please! We will pay you back, sir!" One of Y/n's friends sobbed, causing the girl to glare at her.

"Shut up! Don't fucking plead a cheating bastard like hi- OW FUCK!" Y/n was cut off when Byun gripped her hair before her brain could decipher it and pulled her face closer to his.

"Calling me a cheater when you were trying to use pathetic little rigged ways while playing in MY casino?" Silence followed for a couple moments, the man's lip chain dangling furiously from how fast he'd moved. "You are more foolish than you seemed, baby doll."  Before the girl could shoot anything back, one of her friends shakily stood up, realising this was no game and the man was pure trouble.

"S- Sir… m- may we leave?" Gasping, Y/n turned to look at him along with their other friends. "We had nothing to do with the game nor do any of us gamble. You can sort your thing with her but we really had nothing to do with the game. Please let us go."

Byun sat up a bit straighter, a firm hold on Y/n's hair still. "That's fair." Nodding at his men, the man spoke. "Leave." He couldn't help but chuckle when that boy gathered the rest of his friends before all of them left without sparing a shocked Y/n another glance. "You really are that irritating to everyone, huh?" The girl was fuming at this point, hating how smug and entertained he looked.

“Fuck you!

A snort left the Mafioso when the small girl dared to spit on his face. Byun fucking Baekhyun's face. "I am afraid you don't realize the intensity of the situation, love." Before he motioned his men to stop in their positions, halting them for beating her up for the disrespectful gesture. Before Y/n could realise what had happened, she gasped under her breath when the man suddenly pressed a sharp knife to her throat, the blade threatening to slice against her soft skin.

"You bet all that you had and then took a loan. When they told you that you couldn't take any more loan you bet your body without thinking of the consequences…" Clicking his tongue, he dragged the knife along the length of her neck before grazing it against her collarbone, making the girl jump when he sliced through one of the strings that held her dress against her breast. "Tsk. Did you even know what that means?" The girl hated how she was made to kneel in front of him as he sat in his seat, feet on either side as one held the knife and other held his cigar.

"I- I will pay y- you back!" The men laughed at her slightly wavering tone.

"Oh, is that so?" Baekhyun raised an eyebrow before nodding. "Of course you will. Of course. That is the only way. However…" Taking the other string that was on her other shoulder over the blade, the man toyed with it. "I shall give you a choice." Taking another drag, he puffed it in her face, causing her to cough. "You can either be good and even redeem yourself on the way for your naive actions or…" Inching their faces closer, Baekhyun spoke just above a whisper. "You die and all your body parts get sold."

Y/n's blood started to run cold as she realised just how fucked she was. Even her friends had abandoned her and now she was in this casino with some man she had clearly underestimated as some local gangster. His blood slightly brushed against her skin, still not cutting open the other string. "So… what's it going to be, huh? Me cutting this little dress off your body or me sliding this blade across your throat?"

"I… I d- don't want to d- die, p- please" her eyes finally wetted with tears, bringing the man great satisfaction as he nodded slowly, taking another drag as he finally cut the string open, the tight dress Y/n was wearing falling down to her waist in an instant, causing her to gasp before protective arms tried to hide her chest but Byun's foot beat them to it, pressing both of them down in her laps by one of his feet.

"No, love. You cannot decide what happens to you any longer. You lost all of those rights when you lost your body to me. Now you're my puppet." Byun fed off the fear in her eyes and across her face. "Now, let's begin the fun, shall we?" The girl shook under him as she realised that she didn't have a choice anymore.

"Stand up." The man ordered. "Stand up and take those clothes and heels off." Before the girl could protest, Sehun spoke up from behind, firmly pushing at her back with his knee.

"Didn't you hear what the boss just said, whore?!"

"Hey now, Sehun-ah… don't treat the pretty girl like that…" Byun looked up at Sehun with upset eyes, words painfully sweet like he wasn't just threatening to murder her in cold blood. "She's too weak to be treated so rough… Dolls like her are delicate and fragile… aren't they?" He looked down at the humiliated girl with teasing eyes, snorting at how she flushed in embarrassment before removing his foot from her arms.

"Get up." His tone was rough again as he leaned back in his seat, tossing the knife on the table before picking his glass of whiskey up, taking a sip. "We don't have all day and the clock's running!" He spoke aloud when the girl tried to plead, not even looking her way but in a far distance, waiting for his orders to be obeyed.

Y/n shivered under the gazes of all the men in the room as she slowly stripped from her dress and heels, cheeks red in embarrassment.

"Come here…" Byun ordered. "Kneel." And as the girl kneeled, the male grabbed his knife again, placing one of his feet under her pussy before clicking his tongue at the bra that she didn't take off, swiftly cutting it open, making it fall against her laps. "Don't." The man warned as the girl went to cover her now exposed chest with her arms, watching her carefully. "Come here."

Y/n's eyes were letting out continuous silent tears as she got closer to the man, feeling her nipples harden from the air as her face burned the hottest it could. She could only bite her lip and stare at the ground in embarrassment. "Get on your knees and undo my belt." Her eyes widened as she looked up at the man that looked almost bored. "What? Did I mumble?" His lips grazed against one of her breasts now, making her instantly mumble a small 'no' before she did as she was told, her fingertips trembling as she followed his instructions until she could see his erect cock bulging against the dark blue boxers he wore.

"Come closer now, rub your face on it, doll. Feel your Master up~" Baekhyun encouraged, fistibg her hair in one of his hands whilst the other one that was in possession of the blade grazed against the side of her neck dangerously close. Y/n bit back a sob as the man guided her face closer to his clothed member, forcing her to rub her face against and all over it, moaning lowly at just how good her warm breaths felt.

"Take it out…" The girl did as she was commanded, her hot tears falling on Baekhyun's skin one by one, only adding to the pleasure. "Come on… take it in your mouth. That's it…" Y/n was in disbelief of her situation but knew there was no way out. Opening her mouth, she took his thick head in her mouth, cringing at the taste as she slowly licked and sucked at it, literally shaking as Baekhyun leaned over, pulling her face down his cock by the hair he was holding, finally cutting the last piece of clothing she had on which was her underwear, exposing the girl to everyone in the room and increasing the tension even more. All of his henchmen were sweaty and their throats were dry. But nobody could do anything no matter how much they desired.

Because she was his toy.

"Keep going…" The Boss whispered, sliding her mouth further on his cock and grunting when she gagged around him, bringing her face up before slamming it down, causing the girl to choke again but he held it tight this time, his cock twitching from how she struggled to breathe but couldn't. "Good girl. Now that is some good behaviour." The man grinned, releasing her just enough to let her breathe before pulling it off completely.

"Lick it off." Baekhyun's voice was cold again as he guided her to his cheek which had her spit on it, tightening his hold on her head even more. Y/n was full on sobbing now after failing to suppress it felt her scalp burnt from where he was holding her, shakily placing her hands on his knees before licking her own spit off, sweat trickling down her back. "Are you sorry?" She felt a gun press against her pussy now, the blade long gone as he calmly stared down at her.

"Y- Yes! Yes! I am!" The girl rushedly spoke, feeling the cold metal of the gun slip in between her folds, rubbing back and forth."P- Please, si- sir!"

"Good." Baekhyun was satisfied from how the girl was trembling in fear, standing up before pulling her up on her feet before pushing her on the table where they had played, placing his gun on her stomach before grabbing her thighs and forcefully pushing into her, moaning when she screamed in pain while crying even harder now. "This will get you thinking, tsk. Who do you even think you are? Brats like you deserve nothing but to be treated like this…" Baekhyun loved how he stretched her walls long and deep, expanding them forcefully before he gave her another powerful thrust.

"So fucking overconfident… And what are you now? A fucking slut that's not even in control of her own body." Grabbing the gun, the man started to give her faster thrusts now, moaning loudly as sweat dripped down his forehead, hips snapping mercilessly whilst he pressed the gun to one of her breasts, rubbing the tip against her nipple. "I wonder what will happen if I shoot it… will it pop off? Deflate?"

Y/n's eyes widened as she hysterically cried, her heart thumping as she slid up and down the table, shaking her head furiously whilst her hands rested lifelessly at her sides, her whole body covered in sweat. "P- PLEASE! PLEASE! N- NO! NO! DON'T S- SHOOT ME, S- SIR! PLEASE!" She could only beg helplessly as the man got off to her fear, glaring down at her as he fucked her intensely, going balls deep as he twitched again, feeling himself closer to his orgasm.

"But you've been so fucking disrespectful today. Do you even know who I am, you little slut? How dare you?" Before he pushed the gun in her mouth, forcing her to taste herself as the fear of him suddenly deciding to pull the trigger invaded her senses.

"I- I… s- showwy-" was she could pathetically let out through the gun as he grazed it against the soft end of her throat, ramming into her harder and harder before he was emptying his load into her, pulling out and seeing his cum gush out of her along the blood of her purity, forming a pink mixture. Gathering some of the white liquid off his cock, the man rubbed it against her lips before kissing her as he tucked his cock back in followed by the gun and his blade, pulling her off the table by her hair, spitting in her face before slapping her for all the former disrespect, throwing her in his feet.

Baekhyun smirked, getting even more satisfied as he realised that he was her first time. The trip she was on was in the celebration of her 18th birthday after all. Whilst the mafia was turning 30 this year. "Maybe I won't send you to one of my brothels after all."

.

[weelittleweasley]

Little Lion | Ron x Reader

Prompt as requested by 2 anons: Naturally as a Slytherin, you exude confidence and intimidation. Ron Weasley, on the other hand, not so much. But that’s what made you so attracted to the other, much to everyone else’s surprise. Question is will he muster up the courage to ask you to go to the Yule Ball with him?

Warnings: None!

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: IMPORTANT NOTE: I know, I know, I know, the Yule Ball is only around for the Triwizard Tournament, but let’s pretend like it doesn’t exist just then!! I wanted to age everyone up to year six and give Ron and opportunity to redeem himself from the robes his mother sent him hehe. I literally am a fucking fiend for Ron Weasley, my love for him should be ILLEGAL. Ron content on here is MINIMAL TO NONE! If anyone has any great fic recs for Ron, PLEASE SEND THEM MY WAY. LOOK AT THAT MOTHERFUCKER!! I AM IN LOVE WITH HIM!!!!!!!!!!!

All it took was for you to walk down the hall to get people to look at you and start whispering between each other. It wasn’t a bad thing at all, in fact you quite liked it. You were a confident girl and sometimes that confidence intimidated people. It gave you this sense of power that you liked to use when you needed something out of someone. Not to mention the people you surrounded yourself with in your house were also quite intimidating people, one of them being Draco Malfoy. 

You and Draco were best friends, a dynamic duo of sorts. People thought that you two would end up together, falling madly in love. But Draco was like your brother. He took you under his wing when you got Hogwarts and he was the person who helped you unlock that unfaltering confidence within you. Besides, Draco and you’s personalities clashed too much for it to work with you. You were both dominant, confident, intimidating people; Both of you needed to be in control at all times. Far too similar. 

Instead, you took a liking to people who were more reserved. People who thought before they acted upon their impulses. You needed someone who balanced you out. But someone who could dominate you and keep you at bay when you needed it. Only problem was people like that were scared of you or found you unapproachable. Which you understood, but at the same time, you wished that those people could suck it up and make a move.

As you walked down the hall today, Draco made his way next to you. “We should skip Potions today,” he states as you roll your eyes. Sometimes Draco kept this cool boy act up too much and you knew he was a big softie on the inside and he actually enjoyed school more than he liked to admit. “Seriously. We could ditch Slughorn’s class and hang out in the common room or by the Black Lake,” he tries to tempt you.

“Dray, we’re going to class whether you like it or not,” you speak as you continue to walk to class, Draco groaning when you tell him this. “Slughorn is may be old, but he says valuable things,” you push his shoulder.

The blonde boy just sighs. “I hate when you’re right.”

The both of you walk into Potions class, your face lighting up when you see that your other friends from Slytherin were already in class, awaiting your arrival. You grab a seat with Draco on your right and Pansy on your left. Pansy already starts gossiping about people who you could honestly care less about, but you give her the attention she wants anyway, her being one of your closest girl friends in the school. 

As she blabs on about some poor girl from Hufflepuff that she picked on during lunch, you watch as some Gryffindors enter the classroom, your eyes sticking on the Weasley boy. Ron Weasley was someone who you watched from afar. He was one of those boys who had that boyish charm that made you blush. The ginger was funny, for sure, but he had thoughtful and kind mannerisms that made your heart flutter when you watched him. You picked up on how he would notice when Granger would get distressed and he would offer her a sweet from his backpack that he had stored for occasions like this. You watched how he always packed more than one quill because Potter always managed to forget his. You watched how his eyes widened with fear when Slughorn would talk about how Potions can go wrong quickly, the Weasley boy fearfully concocting his. All of those little ticks made you develop a little crush on him after months of watching him.

Ron sat down in his typical seat next to Hermione and Harry, but he could feel a set of eyes on him from the moment he walked into the classroom. “Is she looking at me?” he nervously asks Harry. 

Harry glances over in your direction, watching that your eyes were glued on Potter’s best friend. When you notice Harry looking at you, you quickly turn away and pay attention to Pansy who continues to ramble. “She was,” Harry reports back. Ron nervously groans. “Oh come on, maybe she has a crush on you.”

“I highly doubt it. I bet she’s planning how to rip my heart out of my chest and then serve it to Malfoy on a silver platter,” his voice cracks. “She scares me.”

Hermione rolls her eyes, “Oh, please, Ronald. Just because the girl is confident and knows what she wants doesn’t make her scary; it makes her smart. I don’t know why she would have a crush on someone like you.”

Ron just looks at Hermione. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he exclaims.

With a huff, Hermione turns to Ron and Harry. “It means I’m surprised that she doesn’t have a crush on someone like Draco or Blaise Zabini. She likes someone like you, Ronald. Merlin, I didn’t think I would have to spell it out for you,” she turns back to the board, ready to start class. 

Your conversation with Pansy is interrupted when Professor Slughorn appear in front of the classroom and starts class, telling you to get into pairs. You turn to Draco, who was always your partner, Pansy with Blaise, Crabbe with Goyle. Everyone in the class regardless of their houses worked with the same people. Slughorn notices this and asks, “How about we switch it up and work with different people?” This earns a chorus of groans from the class. “I’m glad all of you are so eager to work with each other,” he says sarcastically. “I’ll assign the partners.” This earns more groans from the class.

Slughorn starts to pair people up with each other. You start to think that Slughorn is trying to make drama in the class when he starts. “Parkinson and Potter,” he announces.

“You’re bloody joking,” Pansy huffs making you laugh with Draco, making Pansy turn beet red. She grabs her things and moves to a work table in the back of the classroom. 

Slughorn continues to rattle off names of unlikely duos. “Miss Granger and Mr. Malfoy,” Slughorn continues as you have to stifle your laugher and Draco whispers multiple profanities, slapping your shoulder, him grabbing his things in a huff. Hermione was definitely not happy about this pairing either as she has a scared look on her face as she looks at Ron before she moves to the back tables. “Miss (Y/L/N) and Mr. Weasley,” Slughorn announces.

Your heart quite literally stops and Ron looks like a deer in headlights. You did not expect this pair to happen. You can hear Draco cackling in the back of the classroom as you whip your head around. “Shut it, you nitwit,” you spit at him as he continues to laugh. You grab all of your belongings and make your way to a back table as Ron follows. Draco is still laughing, so you waste no time, slapping him upside the head, him letting out an ow! as you do so. “Bloody moron,” you huff at him before plopping down at a table with a shy Ron next to you. It is awkward. 

Slughorn calls out the last few partners before giving you the assignment for the  day. After he finished speaking, the class is silent for a long beat before the small chatter beings. You turn to Ron and offer him a small smile which he nervously reciprocate. The poor bloke is afraid of me, you think too yourself. “-so-”

“-um-”

The both of you talk at the same time. “You go,” you insist to Ron.

He shakes his head. “No, no, go ahead, I don’t even know what I was going to say, something stupid probably,” he tells you. His comment makes you lightly laugh. You suggest how you should start the task given. “Yep, much smarter than what I was going to say.”

You laugh again, “I’m sure what you were going to say was not stupid, Ron.” You had him a few vials of liquids needed to craft this potion. He carefully takes them from your hands and you notice how he actively avoids touching his hands against yours as if they were poison. Your heart kind of sinks at this. Were you that intimidating to him? You start, “You know,” you grab a pair of gloves, “I don’t bite. I know other people in the school say otherwise, but I’m not that bad.”

Ron gives you a genuine smile and laughs, looking down as his feet. “I’m sure you don’t,” he tells you as you blush lightly. “I guess pretty girls scare me.” Your heart rate picks up at the compliment, gulping a little bit, not making eye contact, too scare to. This was so unlike yourself. Ron clears his throat, “Anyway, let’s start, shall we?”

Within thirty minutes, you and Ron have completed all of the assignments for today’s class. You still had thirty minutes left of class, but Slughorn comes over. “Everything looks right to me!” he exclaims with excitement. “Well done, Miss (Y/L/N) and Mr. Weasley! Since you’ve completed your work, I can dismiss you early from class!” 

“What? That’s rubbish!” yells Draco from the other side of the room. You stick your tongue out at him before grabbing your things and thanking Slughorn for the great class. 

You and Ron exit the class. “Job well done, indeed,” you laugh as you nudge Ron’s shoulder as he laughs. The two of you walk side by side down the hall. “Um, well, I guess I’ll see you around, Weasley.”

Starting to walk in the opposite direction, you hear Ron call, “Wait! Uh...” You turn around to see Ron behind you. “I have nothing to do for the rest of the day, and I was, um, do you wanna hang out by the Black Lake? I had snacks that I stole from the kitchen this morning.”

You cannot prevent the smile that forms across your lips. “Yeah, sounds fun.”

Ron’s lips form a cheeky grin. “Wicked.”

The two of you made your way to the Black Lake, making small talk here and there until you reached your destination. The both of you sat side by side on the grass as Ron handed you a bag of crisps from his backpack as you thank him for the snack. “So,” he starts, “this might be a weird question, but...why are you friends with people like Malfoy and Parkinson?”

You smile and lightly laugh at the question. “Draco and I are like siblings. He’s the brother I never had. When I got to Hogwarts, as hard as it may be to believe, I was really shy. I didn’t talk to many people and he took me under his wing. He helped me find my voice. I owe that to him. But that’s all that Draco and I are. Friends,” you stress, trying to express that you and Draco’s relationship was simply platonic. Ron nods. “Pansy on the other hand, she and I became friends because of Draco, but to be honest, she annoys me more than she does entertain me.”

This makes Ron laugh. “I thought I was the only one who found her dreadful,” he chuckles.

“What about you? Why are you friends with Harry and Hermione?” you ask him before munching on a chip.

Ron takes a deep breath in. “Like you said, Harry’s my brother. He gets me into deep shit, but he’s my brother.” You laugh at his passing joke, Ron looking at you out of the corner of his eye. “But seriously, Harry and I met on the train to Hogwarts. He and I have been inseparable since. Hermione, on the other hand, butt her way into Harry and I’s friendship. Again, she gets me into some deep shit, too, but here I am...The two of them are much braver than I am though, so I don’t quite understand why they think I’m a good addition to this team.”

You nudge his shoulder. “I disagree with that,” you speak truthfully. “You’re a Gryffindor! You’re like a lion,” you shimmy your shoulders, making him laugh.

“A little lion,” he retorts. 

“More of a lion than I am,” you counter, making him blush.

-------

More classes like this came along. You and Ron partnered up and finished your assignment for the day early, escaping class to hang out by the lake, eat snacks, and clown around. The more time you spent with Ron, the more comfortable you were with each other. But most of your interactions were limited to Potions class and your Blake Lake encounters. Other than that, you hung out with different people, spend your free time doing different things. This made you both cherish your private moments more. 

You sat by the Black Lake today, eating biscuits that your mom sent in a parcel to you. As you munched, you spoke, “The Yule Ball is coming up.” The mention of the Yule Ball makes the both of you tense. Neither of you had dates yet and you both secretly hoped the other wanted to go with each other. “You reckon you know who you want to ask?”

Ron munches on his biscuit quietly before swallowing. “Not really,” he lies through his teeth. I want to take you, Ron thinks. “What about you?” You shake your head no. I want to go with you, you think. “I’m sure you’ll have someone ask you, (Y/N). How could you not get a date? Look at you,” he tells you as you blush. 

You wanted to scream at him to ask you. That you wanted him to take you to the Yule Ball so you didn’t have to go with someone like Crabbe or Goyle. But you don’t. You just sit and finish your biscuit. “I think I’m gonna head back,” you confess, not really wanting to stay any longer with Ron no matter how much you actually wanted to capitalize on your time with him. 

As you rise, Ron watches you gather your things. You bloody idiot, just say it, he thinks to himself. Mustering up all of the confidence he has, Ron stands up and stops you. “(Y/N)?” he asks, stopping you from walking away from him. You look at the Weasley, waiting for him to say something. Anything. Ron takes a deep breath in and then says, “Go to the Yule Ball with me.”

Your heart flutters and the biggest smile appears on your face followed by beet red cheeks. Ron stares at you, relishing in how beautiful you look in this moment with kind eyes and rosy cheeks. “Okay. Yes,” you shake your head, making Ron smile wide.

“Brilliant,” he whispers, picking up his bag, walking back to the castle with you. “I’m glad you said yes.”

Nudging his shoulder, you tease, “Well, you didn’t make it a question, little lion.” Ron chuckles. “I would have said yes either way,” you admit.

-----

The Yule Ball rolled around and you were ball of nerves and excitement. You couldn’t wait to just go downstairs and see Ron and spend the evening with him. You looked at yourself in the mirror one last time, smoothing your hands over the satin crimson fabric of your dress. You smiled to yourself, you chose this dress mostly because of how beautiful it was, but also knowing it was the colors of Gryffindor. You wanted everyone to know who you were at the dance with. You were wearing these colors with pride tonight. 

Before you made your way to the ball, you met up with Draco. “Wow,” he claps as you walk towards him, you rolling your eyes. “You look stunning,” Draco tells you as you smile.

“You look fine,” you shrug as Draco teasingly slapping your shoulder. “I’m kidding, Malfoy, you look great.”

Draco offers you his arm as you both make your way to the hall where the Ball was. “I never asked you,” Draco says, “who was the lucky bloke who asked you?”

As you turn the corner to the hall, there Ron was, dressed in a black suit with a jacket that was a smidge too big on him. Probably a hand-me-down from Fred or George. Regardless, Ron looked handsome as ever. Your heart thumped out of your chest when you saw him. “Him,” you whisper breathlessly. 

Draco chuckles at first because he thinks you’re kidding. “You’re going with a Weasley?” he asks in disbelief. You ignore his snide comment, disjoining you from Draco, and you walk over to Ron. Draco turns to Zabini, “Did you know she was going with Weasley?” Zabini shakes his head. “What has gotten into her?”

Ron feels as if he may faint. You looked absolutely breathtaking in your dress of crimson, hair perfectly falling to frame your face. He felt like a fish out of water in his older brother’s old suit, but his thoughts were pushed aside when you approached him. “You are gorgeous,” he blurts, making you blush. “I can’t believe you’re my date,” he lightly laughs, grabbing your hand. “I’m the luckiest guy here.”

Smiling at the boy in front of you, you squeeze his hand. “I can’t believe you’re my date,” you confess. “I have the kindest, handsomest boy as my date to the Yule Ball.” Ron blushes a deep shade of red, almost matching your dress. “You want to go in, lion?” you call him his nickname. Ron nods and guides you inside to the ball. 

-----

The Yule Ball was fun for the first hour and a half. But soon enough you grew tired of dancing and jumping around. Ron looked over at you and spoke over the music, “You wanna get out of here?” You don’t even have to answer him, you just grab his hand and start making your way out. “I’ll take that as a yes,” he laughs. 

When you are outside of the hall, Ron tells you, “Give me one minute. I need to grab something from my room before we go. I’ll be right back.”

You watch him leave, a big smile on your face as you smooth out the material of your dress. This night felt nothing short of magical. Ron was a gentleman, making you laugh, dancing with you the whole night, making sure you were comfortable. He was perfect.

“You went to the ball with Weasley? (Y/N), you can do so much better,” Pansy laughs from behind you. “He’s a complete git.” Anger starts to rise in your chest. “You really could have anyone in this school and you chose the man who wears his brothers’ old clothes. He can barely stand up for himself, he has to let Granger fight his battles for him.”

“Will you shut it, Parkinson?” you snap. “Just because Draco didn’t ask you to the Yule Ball doesn’t mean you have to pick on everyone else’s dates because you are unhappy that you had to settle for Goyle. It’s not my fault that you get upset when people are happier than you. So how about this? Keep your opinions to yourself, because I can assure you no one wants to hear them. Not me, not Draco, no one.” Pansy’s face turns sheet white. “I like Ron. I think he’s brilliant. And I’m going to enjoy my night with him.”

The silence between you is deafening when you finish. Pansy just stares at you as you catch your breath from yelling at her. You hear someone clear their throat behind you. Spinning around, you see Ron behind you. You wished you could feel embarrassed right now, but you don’t. You just grab his hand and leave a shocked Pansy behind. “Merlin, remind me not to make you angry,” Ron diffuses the situation, brilliantly. You laugh at him before intertwining your fingers, leaving the Ball behind and escaping to your signature spot.

Draco leaves the hall and sees you leaving with Ron, hands clasped together. “Can you believe her?” Pansy asks Draco.

Draco just looks at Pansy. “I don’t care who she’s with. As long as she’s happy and they make her happy. That’s all you should care about too,” he speaks before walking away from Pansy with Crabbe and Goyle not too far behind him.

Soon, you and Ron arrive to Black Lake and sit beside each other on the grass in your ball attire, not caring if it gets dirty at this point. You look out at the lake as it shimmers in the moonlight. The night was beautiful. Just chilly. Ron immediately notices you shiver and without hesitation, he takes off his suit jacket and places it over your shoulders. “You don’t have to,” you insist.

“Yes, I do. Don’t want you to get sick now, do we?” Ron smiles at you, wrapping an arm behind you carefully as you lean into him. 

The two of you sit in a comfortable silence, you resting your head on his shoulder as he lays his head on yours. “What did you have to grab from your room?” you curiously ask him. 

You can feel Ron smile against your hair. “Reach into my jacket pocket. The left one.” You do so and pull out a small red rose. Its petals were lightly crushed from being pushed into his suit jacket pocket. You look up at Ron, eyebrows furrowed as if to say what’s this all about? “I wanted to get you a whole bouquet, but they wouldn’t have fit in my pocket,” he jokes as you laugh. “I like you, (Y/N). A lot. I like spending time with you and being around you. You make me happy. So, I wanted to ask you if you wanted to be my girlfriend?” 

His confidence is palpable. You’d been rubbing off on him. He must have been rubbing off on you because there is a deep shade of red on your cheeks, you feel almost unable to speak. You finally find the words and say, “Of course I’ll be your girlfriend, Weasley.”

Ron smiles big and just gawks at you. “You’re my girlfriend now?”

“I’m your girlfriend,” you repeat as he laughs. “And you’re my little lion now.”

The two of you just look at each other for a moment before he speaks, “I’m going to kiss you...if that’s okay.” You nod your head and close the gap in between you two. The kiss is gentle and his lips are soft against yours. He kisses you like he is afraid of breaking you. His hand cups your cheek, pulling you in closer. You smile lightly into the kiss before pulling away slowly. “Bloody hell,” he whispers, inches from your face. “I’m so glad that this went better than I expected,” he admits as you laugh at your boyfriend.

[ofmanderley]

VAMPIRE IVAR & FALLEN ANGEL HEAHMUND AES. BOARD 

background for the fic : an au where heahmund is actually an angel and ivar is bitten by a vampire before he dies in canon, which essentially heals his legs for many, many centuries. that is until he meets heahmund again in the 1920′s. they engage in combat and heahmund strikes ivar’s legs with his silver blade, damaging them beyond repair, but he escaped. over the next one hundred years, heahmund has been seeking ivar out and finally finds him in church. 

pairing : ivar x heahmund warnings : brief injury mentions as well as mutilation (cutting off limbs) words : 942

notes : has a bit of a van helsing sort of feel to it ??

Ivar hears the heartbeat and the footsteps before the familiar scent carries to him on the air. He inhales deeply, rolling his head to one side, then the other, and grins. It’s almost a comfort knowing he’s not alone in this ever-changing world. That there is some small remnant from his life before the lust.

“Bishop. After all these years, I didn’t think you’d find me.” He drawls, red eyes glamoured into an enticing icy hue even as he stares into the flickering candlelight of the echoing church.

It had been back in the roaring twenties - at the height of prohibition - when they’d last seen one another and that encounter had ended badly. Ivar’s legs were still scarred from the silver blade that had struck them; leaving nothing but useless bones that refused to heal no matter the blood he drank.

The glow from the flames illuminates one side of his face as, leaning heavily now upon a jet black crutch, Ivar glances back. The tight collar of the dark, fitted shirt he wears almost bites into his neck. Ironic.

Heahmund hasn’t changed.

“The Lord sees and finds sinners, all.” The bishop, still adorned with leather armour, dark blue and creaking with age, takes measured steps. One hand sits upon the hilt of the blade that devoured Ivar’s legs in its hungry wake. The other wraps itself, for a moment, around the wooden crucifix hanging lowly at his chest. “I am but a messenger.”

Oh, how he’s missed this. 

Ivar’s head ducks as he huffs out a short laugh. A whimsical sound follows, creeping out of his throat, and he turns then, finally looking fully upon the warrior angel once again. The tip of the crutch clicks softly on the ancient stone and then falls silent as the tomb of Ecbert beneath.

“And what message would you deliver to me, hm? That I am to die?” Ivar teases, eyes narrowing as he reads nothing of Heahmund’s emotions - well guarded as they are. His head oscillates this way and that; serpentine, despite his vampiric tendencies.

“He is merciful. Even to creatures of the night.” Cold stare holds Ivar’s steely one as Heahmund comes to stand at the bottom of the steps. Moonlight catches his face through the stained glass, casting a deep red across one eye and down, down, down, to the exposed portion of his throat.

Ivar’s gaze drops, lidding his eyes. Subtle, but there.

“If your god is so merciful, why didn’t He stay your hand when you tried to cut off my legs, hm? Where was He then, Your Grace?” The last words are almost spat as Ivar sneers.

Heahmund only blinks, shoulders squaring. “My orders were to cut off your head but I chose not to. I chose to let you live, because I believed you could be redeemed, and the last century has been my punishment.”

“You wanted me redeemed and here I am. I came to church.” The wide grin Ivar gives doesn’t land and slips shortly into a frown. His tongue presses into his cheek as he draws the crutch closer, shuffling to painfully take a step down, bringing himself face to face with the bishop. “How were you punished?”

Now, Heahmund’s jaw tightens. The scar on his right cheek almost begs to be traced as his face turns away, hand only tightening on the weapon headed with a small, round glass ball of holy water.

Ivar watches him with some curiosity and remembers so well why he had been fascinated with the warrior when they first met back in York, centuries earlier. The way Heahmund had screamed into his face. The sweetness of his hatred filling the air. Such a tightness gripped Ivar’s chest then as it does now but the underlying feeling is so different.

“What did He take?” Ivar asks, unblinking.

“I sacrificed my wings, willingly, for you.”

Ivar swallows and for the first time, he recognises how cold his body is. Not simply his skin but his body. How his veins freeze with the realisation. And the stillness of his heart where it should be beating - as he notes Heahmund’s own is, hard. His mouth drops open, softly, but no words come for a long while.

“Why? Why did you do that? I wouldn’t have done that for you!” Raising his voice is the only way Ivar manages to lie and his free hand balls into a fist at his side. Were he human, he’d have drawn blood from his palm.

“I believed in you. Perhaps, I still do.” Punctuating his words, Heahmund looks up again, letting the weight of them sink in as he passes Ivar. Their shoulders brush and the heat is excruciating. It fills the Ivar with want and he joins the bishop soon after, coming to stand by the row of three tiny flames; lit for the memories of Hvitserk, Floki and his mother, Aslaug.

Standing side by side in the heavy silence, both faces rise to greet the moon into their company; let her in on their secret.

“You shouldn’t believe in me, Heahmund. I won’t change.” A sly glance comes with the tilt of Ivar’s head and one corner of his mouth tugs up sharply.

“You’re stronger and faster than I am, now. You could kill me if you wanted.” Heahmund doesn’t deny the moon his attention as he speaks, hands coming together in prayer. Suddenly, though, a breeze snuffs out the candles and the church is plunged into darkness. Heahmund is alone and the screech of a bat is all that’s left to confirm his suspicions.

Ivar doesn’t want him dead. That would ruin the game.

[florbelles]

12) things you said when you thought I was asleep Fairbrooks!

thank you lovely! xx

prompt i. when the night is over.

words. 1.1k (approx.)

content warning. none but implied sexual content, they have behaved themselves just this once

She becomes aware of the sharp pain of bark digging into her back, her breath slowly normalizing, ragged heaves against his chest. “You’re somethin’,” he says.

He releases her grip on her thigh and her leg slides from where she’s hooked it over his shoulder; the cool air is a shock against her damp skin, his still warm, so warm. “Of course I am.” She kisses him again, mouth curving upward, sinks her teeth into his lip until she tastes copper. He makes a sound, it might have been a moan, it might have been feigned protest. It always ends like this, one way or another, his blood in her mouth, hers in his. It's the closest she can get to consuming him. His teeth on her tongue. He knows how it is, with them. She laughs and shoves him back, leaves him to touch the spot where blood blooms on his smirking mouth. She walks towards the smoldering fire of his camp, towards her discarded dress; Boomer sprawls beside it feigning sleep. The poor dear, as long-suffering as darling Shaggy. "Hello, you," she says softly. "My boy, my bestest boy." "Careful." Wes comes up behind her. "Doesn't like Peggies." Her lips twitch. "You imagine he shall rip my throat out? We are old friends." "Uh-huh." "Besides." Boomer lifts his head at her touch, whines in greeting. "He is yours now, is he not?" "Yeah, something like that," Wes mutters. "Since you put that bullet in Rae-Rae." She frowns at him. "I did no such thing. That was Matthew." "Yeah, yeah, whatever, you, your men, it's the same." He takes a swig from his whiskey bottle, wipes the back of his mouth. "Well." She turns back to Boomer, purses her lips. "Never mind that. He knows you would not have me hurt." "Seem awful sure about that." She smirks. "Of course I am. You should like that honor yourself, I expect." He grunts and crouches beside her, passes her the bottle. "Sorry," he says. "Don't have your fancy shit." "Thank heavens for that," she says. "It would be wasted on you." "Right." She tosses it back, feels the burn of it on her tongue, sliding down her throat. It's shit, he did not lie, but it's a pleasant bite against the chill in the air; September is going, taking the last of warmth with it. The last of the life in the earth. Don't let it die, she thinks. Don't let us die. Let it come back. "I used to do it too, you know. Sleep outside as a girl." She wipes her lips and hands him the bottle, warmth pooling in her stomach. "It wasn't necessary, of course. I had a bed, I had everything." "Course you did," he smirks. "Hush." She scratches behind Boomer's ears, his head resting in her lap. "It was cold, however. My bed. It was colder than the forest. Than this." "Yeah," he says after a moment. "Yeah, sounds about right." "I could stay with you," she hears herself say abruptly. Fuck. He faces away from her, his shoulders hunched over the fire. She watches the muscles of his back tense, go rigid for a moment, drop. He throws a glance over her shoulder. She draws herself up and juts her chin out defensively. "For nostalgia's sake." She bites her lip. Wishes she had spoken differently. But there is no way to say, I cannot sleep in any empty ranch; I cannot sleep without him when you are not there, could only sleep without him when I'm with you. Cannot say, you are the only one I fear could take him from me. You are the only one I fear. He watches her, face inscrutable, and turns back to the fire. She is grateful for the cover of darkness, the faint orange glow of the burned-down flames. The shadows suit her; John always loved the way she looked in dying light, from a bonfire, their hearth, the sun. It disguises the flush of her skin, now. Wes is quiet for a moment. "The other one gonna miss ya?" "No. He is occupied." Wes raises his eyebrows. "Project business," she murmurs. "Do I wanna know?" She smiles tightly. "Almost certainly not." It had been a good day for it, in fact; she'd sent several to him earlier. That was ideal; those were the ones she hoped for, that she wished to keep in the valley, who might have a future. Might be redeemed, be saved. It had been a relief; she sends more and more of them to the Henbane, these days. Those were the worst. "What do you say, darling?" she asks softly. "We may resume gutting each other in the morning, if you like. Have an early go of it." "Ain't gonna stop you." He doesn't. And so they lie on the ground, beneath the pines, his head resting on Boomer and hers resting on him. Her fingers slip under his flannel. It has its uses, as it happens. Occasionally. "Christ." He flinches when her fingers brush his chest. "I've told you, my blood runs cold. It is why I am so pleasant and even-tempered." "Sure you are." She burrows her face against his neck. "So warm," she murmurs. "Still. Like the hell you came from." "Ly." "I will stop," she whispers, "but only so you will fall asleep. It shall make slitting your throat easier." "Uh-huh." "Such a lovely throat." She traces it with her fingertips, his jaw, the side of his face. She feels his eyes flicker open, the sigh that escapes his lips, his lids closing again. "Ly?" "Yes?" "Shut up." She laughs and slides her thigh between his legs. "I would not kill you like this," she says. "It would take out all the fun." "Yeah, got it." She watches as his breathing slows to sleep, the rise and fall of his chest, the curve of his lips, his nose, the outline still visible in the starlight. Beautiful, she thinks, beautiful the way all damned things are, like I am, like John. Like us. "Besides," she whispers, now that he's no longer conscious, now that he cannot hear her, now that it's safe, "I am quite fond of you." She might have felt him squeeze her shoulder, then, just slightly, might have seen just a slight tip to the corner of his mouth. Perhaps. "Even though you are profoundly irritating." His breath blows forcefully out of his nose. "Never mind that," she whispers. "Goodnight, Wes." He's silent, breaths coming deeply, evenly, and she lets herself begin to drift. The world is silent for a moment, still for a moment, and she thinks, this is it. This is the breath before the storm. Tomorrow, she shall think of it tomorrow. And then she hears it, just under his breath, feels the vibration in his throat. "Night, Ly."

[mirainawen]

forgive you or forgive me

why does it feel like i have to kill me

to do it

what if i let it go

what if i can't do it

will you forgive me if i can't

forget it

would that i could

i would

i might fall from the ledge tonight

but wish all the while that i could

fly away

and never return

burn in the ashes that made of me

something nobody

wanted

but it wouldn't matter anymore

no, it wouldn't

i waited for you or i waited for me

or maybe i waited just to see

who would prove me right

every time

cause i was

proven right

every time

no, don't lie anymore

shut this door and let the armor fall

and breathe

i breathe

oh, i always breathe

i close the door, the armor falls

and some days it is so light

and see-through

and i don't really need it because

i am seen straight through

and it is okay

but today, like some days,

like many days behind me,

the armor blunted the edges

of a harsher world i could not

wallow in

cause it came for my heart again

and wanted to do it in

without even acknowledging me

it's such a tricky

messed up version

of what this is

supposed to be

but i was thinking of the weight on

someone else's shoulders this evening

and i felt the weight of yours

come choking at my throat

again

curses for all the ways

we twisted my heart around

so that it just can't

stand this

anymore

lately everyone's bearing the loads

i could never tell you how

it comes in and makes a little space for itself

in me

so that i find myself praying

for those who might never know

and i am willing

and tired

and broken

and whispering

hopes

in the ears of

the Almighty

and for them

not for me

how do i carry the weight of this compassion

and all this passion

and where are the answers that will

finally tell me

how could i be of use

how could i be of use

how could i be of use

how can i be of use in this world

bearing the laming

you did of me

i am soft all the time

underneath this armor

they've seen

i have a dozen faces that come to me

in times of doubt and incoherency

and when they are

dizzy with the ecstasy

of being alive

and their smiles tell a story

i could never hope to

convey

i said

i said

i said

i see this all so very differently

each of these human hands

trembling with life

and that is enough to say to them:

i will bear with you in patience

and in long-suffering

and in kindness

that i might grow in love

and be known by something so much

holier than i

don't you even know

what that's like

what that means

can't you see

can't you see

can't you see

how that should change

everything

let it grab hold of my hand

and cripple it now

and when i walk

they see

i am changed

and i am entirely

different

undone

redone

and soft

so soft

so kind

may they be

glimpsing eternity

in the heart of a man

thirsting at the well

and drenched, clean

and let it show in my face

i am grateful and grateful and grateful

and free

and wholly

held

and tell me, please, can't someone tell me please

how in the world

does that not change everything

for you?

how could you sit before Him and not be

changed

altered

irrevocably

so that there is something in us

that cannot be shut up in our bones

that it may expire

with us

i don't understand how you could

say you are found of Him

but your hands stayed silent at your side

and your tongue spoke not a word of life

and you looked down upon every human hand

trembling with life

that passed you by

and despised it

and didn't you know

one time

that aversion came for me

and you contemned me

and i was bound unworthy

and left for dead

in the death you spoke

for from your lips, it fell

not a holy hymn or word of Him

and i was run right through

taken down at the ankle

by the serpent's bite

and i fell

paralyzed in his venom

and there i died

no, brother, no

no, my brethren, no

do not take this name in vain

and then labor your vanity unto

death

for these clanging symbols

will burst the eardrums of men

begging for a word of life

and there they might

die

and how will they know

how will they find

and how can they see

a God they have never seen

a God they have never seen

reflected in

you and me

God, break this heart and may i never stop

weeping

hold me bound in this

grief though it be

lest i

forget

and stare right through

self-soothing myself that i

have You

and labor not

at all

for these

-even this will be redeemed

[ad1thi]

devil on your shoulder | AU-gust Day 4: Angels and Demons AU

AU-gust masterlist

for @justsomeoneunordinary

“I don’t want to hear it. You’re evil; you manipulate your words to deceive people.” (from this prompt list)

//

Humans were dreadfully complicated creatures. They had all sorts of motivations and intentions and conflicting life experiences that made it incredibly messy for Angels to assess whether or not they were to be granted safe passage to Heaven. This meant, more often than not, Pepper sent Tony down personally to investigate the life that the human had led.

 It wasn't that Tony was averse to spending time on Earth, there was something freeing and oddly fulfilling about shedding his wings for their odd clothing and walking amongst humans with the knowledge that he had. It was that Hell recently got word of his field trips (for lack of a better word) down to Earth and decided that it was the fair and just thing (as if Demons ever cared about fair and just) to send an envoy of their own.

 That meant that Tony was spending his time on Earth with Clinton.

"Natasha Romanoff," Pepper slides the file across to Tony, who thumbs it open to see the striking figure of a petite redhead, "I need you to go down there for a couple months. Figure out what her story is."

"It says here that she has almost two hundred kills to her name," Tony looks up at Pepper with a furrowed brow, "Surely this isn't a hard judgement to make."

Pepper's face twists, and if Angels were capable of grimacing, that's what Tony would've called her expression, "This isn't from me. This is from the Woman upstairs. Says that Natasha reminds her of somebody and wants to make sure we're doing the right thing before we condemn her to Hell."

Tony wants to say something, but he knows better to argue with Pepper, so he dips his head slightly and sees himself out. It's quick work to pack a small bag of essentials and glamour his wings away; his white robes falling away to reveal a loose black tee and jeans. He stretches a couple of time experimentally, shaking out his fingers - and stuffs the file inside his quiver.

Then he stretches his hands out, palms facing up; and falls.

This is always his favourite part, the way the air whips around him and the world shifts and changes before his very eyes. He knows that when the Demons fell, it wasn't fast or smooth or painless - that Heaven wept for their pain, but he can't tell but imagine that it must have felt something like this.

He falls gracefully into a back-alley, narrowly missing a hunkering black trash-can filled to the brim. When he's finishing dusting himself off and looks up, Clint is leaning against the wall and looking at him with a smile, dressed in some sort of purple monstrosity.

"Clinton," he says with faux politeness, "I presume you're here about Natasha Romanoff?"

"Is that her name?" he pursues his lips, and Tony hates him all at once because he'd never known lust until he met Clint, "I've been calling her Little Red in my mind. You know because she's -"

"petite and a redhead," Tony finishes, "yes I can put that together for myself thank you."

Clint beams at him, "I always knew you were a smart cookie. You're wasting away upstairs. You should come and hang out with me sometimes." He waggles his eyebrows in a way that's clearly meant to be suggestive, but damn if it doesn't stir something inside of Tony, "I can show you how the other half lives."

"No thank you," Tony says shortly, and he must imagine the way that Clint's face falls, because it’s gone in a second, "I like where I am right now."

/

"So, correct me if I'm wrong but Little Red -"

"Natasha -"

"Natasha has, or had rather, past tense - " Clint touches his forehead and then his chest, before moving to his shoulders, and it takes Tony an absurdly long amount of time to realise that he's just made a cross. The thought makes him want to laugh, but he bites his tongue, " - has an incredibly long list of victims."

He twists so that he's walking backwards, and Tony wants to reach out and grab him because he's expertly flitting through the crowd, and it's going to give them away, "Which begs the question, what're you guys interested in her for?"

Tony shrugs, "I'm not sure," he says honestly, "I asked Pepper the same question. All she said was that the woman upstairs thought that Natasha was worth redeeming, so I had to come and investigate."

"You don't feel the same," Clint says knowingly, and Tony flushes. "It's not for me to decide who is and is not worthy," Tony says loyally.

Clint snorts, "that sounds like a Company line. Pepper tell you to say that one too?"

Tony doesn't say anything. Mostly because it was Pepper who told him to say that, but he doesn't want to give Clint the satisfaction. From the way Clint smiles though, he has the feeling that he already knows.

"If you think she's a shoe in for Hell," he says, to change the topic, "Why did you come up to investigate?"

Clint puts a hand against his chest and gasps theatrically, "And miss a chance to see you? Never."

Tony's cheeks heat, and he resolves to keep quiet for the rest of their time together.

He missed the time when all humans did was eat forbidden apples and lie. Things were so much easier then.

Undeterred by Tony's vow of silence (probably because he was unaware of said vow), Clint fishes out a file from his quiver. It's also purple. "Born and raised in Russia," he reads aloud, "Graduate of the Black Widow programme before she defected and worked for -" he squints his eyes, even though Tony knows that he has perfect vision, "Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics Division."

He whistles lowly, "They need to find a way to shorten that. That's a mouthful. Imagine having to yell that on the job." He thrusts out his hand in a facsimile of the few humans they'd seen in law enforcement during one of their trips down, "STOP. I'm Agent Clint of Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics Division."

Tony can't help it, he giggles; eyes crinkling. "The person you're catching would run away by the time you finished," he agrees. "I think they call it SHIELD, for short," Clint looks at him with a quizzical expression and he rushes to explain, "I was investigating a human once, an Agent Coulson. He worked for the same agency."

"I can't believe you sat on that information, and allowed me to embarrass myself in front of all of these humans," Clint gestures around widely, even though they're in a secluded portion of the park and there's nobody around to watch them, "One would think you were out to get me Tony."

"That would be outrageous and ill-founded," Tony replies in a deadpan voice, and resolutely ignores the way his heart skips a beat.

"You're a little shit aren't you?" Clint says with ill disguised awe, and jostles Tony with his shoulder, "Under all that Angel-ness, you're a little bit like me."

"No," Tony says with a frown, "You're evil. You manipulate your words to deceive people. I'm nothing like you."

Clint's silent for a couple of seconds, and Tony sneaks a glance at him, worried that he's offended the Demon. His face betrays nothing though, and he throws his arm around Tony's shoulder, pulling him in closer. "I'll get you to admit it eventually," he says with a smile, even as Tony's face goes red because of their proximity, "but for now - I believe we have a pirate to interview about our redhead."

Fin

[sanders-sides-fic]

Hey, purple demon!

Royal Council-AU masterpost: here 

He was shaking, and surely not from the cold. He may have been able to fool someone in the harshness of winter, but not right now. Not in summer, not even when his cloak had holes in it. No, this wasn’t cold, and his face betrayed that it wasn’t anger either.

Slowly, Virgil dared to look up. Not into his face, he wasn’t stupid enough for that, but enough to see what was going on. Just enough to see where the glittery black sleeves made way for a set of large hands. And the weapon lazily held in one of those hands. A sliver morning star. Virgil didn’t want to know what the boy… the man? The royal. What the royal would be capable of doing to him with that.

“Huh~”, a melodic voice sang way to happily for a situation like this. Another shiver went down Virgil’s spine. He swallowed hard, cursing the gods in his mind for not only being dragged strait in front of the prince, but also in front of this prince. He’d heard the stories, after all. He knew what this prince did to criminals.

Why him? Why now? Next month the two princes would celebrate their birthday and this one would move away to become a duke in a far-off castle, as rumor had it. Then again, Virgil knew better than to trust rumors…

“So let me get this right. This little cutie is a demon-kin?”, the voice asked, just as cheerily. Virgil flinched, the guard next to him gave a confirmative nod.

“And he used his powers to burn down a village?” Still with that same, creepy delight in the voice. Virgil winched at both the voice as well as the accusation against him. Yeah, things weren’t looking too peachy right now…

“And no one survived?” Why the fuck did he sound so god damn happy about this?! If he thought he’d survive it, he would have told him how inappropriate that was and that he should just stop with it already. But this was prince Remus, that’d be suicidal. So Virgil kept his mouth shut.

When the guard confirmed again, everything was silent, and suddenly the creepiness of the prince’s humor wasn’t that bad anymore. It was better than this long silence, at least. Anything was better than kneeling here, bound up, listening to his silence as he probably decided on all the ways he would torture Virgil and what experiments they would do to him and, god, they would execute him wouldn’t they? And they would put up his corpse for decoration as a warning or something and everyone would point and stare at his dead body and he would be dead and-

“So what do you want me to do about that?”

…

What?

“What…?”, the guard asked with just as much confusion as Virgil had thought it, though a lot sharper as well.

“…do you want me to do about that, yes.”, the prince continued on, still sounding so carefree, as if the guard had intended for him to finish the sentence. What the hell was wrong with this guy? Not that Virgil was complaining, at least he didn’t seem to think about any weird experiments or new ways of torture or something, and maybe he would even let Virgil live.

Maybe.

Possibly.

Probably not.

“Your highness, he has to be punished for that! He killed an entire village!”, the guard protested, probably not believing what was happening any more than Virgil did right now. The prince only chuckled darkly, though.

“Well, the way I see it, those people are dead. Nothing much I can do to change that. Does he know how to revive people? Do you? No? Didn’t think so. And, look, I’m not the one who was gonna reign over all those fuckers anyways. Wrong twin. I don’t really care. Frankly, I’m just sad I missed that. I bet that must have been so fun to watch. Now they died and no one even enjoyed it. What a waste, am I right?! But it’s too late to change now anyways. Besides, I don’t appreciate you telling me how to do my job. It’s my job, I get to decide, you don’t. Now, why don’t you go away before I grab that spear of yours and shove up your-”

Judging by the sound of the door slamming shut, the guard hadn’t stayed around to figure out where his spear would be shoved if he didn’t. And Virgil was pretty relieved he didn’t have to find out either, but at the same time he wasn’t really happy about being in a room alone with the crazy royal.

He tensed when the royal in question hummed again, now sounding a lot less annoyed or angry than just a few seconds before, and started to circle Virgil. “So, you’re a demon-kin, huh? I’ve never met one in person before.”, he said.

Virgil wasn’t surprised.

It was usual for his kind to stay hidden if possible. No one would hire or house a demon-kin, so they lived out on the streets, with the rare exception of the few that had built a life for themselves deep in the woods. Virgil didn’t belong to the lucky few. He’d been one of the many raised in dark allies and abandoned buildings, buildings that were nearly crumbling under their own weight. If he wanted clothes to wear or something to eat, he had to steal. Honestly, if the prince had ever meet someone like him before, that would have been a scandal. He would have known about that already.

“Not a man of many words, huh?”, prince Remus sighed, before chuckling again: “I wonder if you’ll even know if I cut your tongue off…” If he what?! Virgil had to muster up all the courage he had to stop himself from trying to run away. He knew he wouldn’t come very far and judging by the reaction he’d had towards his guard just now, Virgil feared what the futile attempt would get him into.

“Ha! I like that look. Don’t worry, though. I don’t really plan on doing that. Cutting off body parts is just for interrogations. It’s become boring way too long ago to use it for anything else.”, Remus sighed. Virgil felt as though he might puke. If cutting off body parts had become boring, just what would he actually do to Virgil?

“Well, that can wait anyways. So… What’s now? Uh… Right! Right, you get to tell me what happened! So? What do you have to say?”

Huh? Was that a trap? The guard had already told him about everything. What did the prince expect him to say now? Virgil opened and closed his mouth a few times before he finally managed to say something, though it was barely above a soft whisper: “I don’t… I don’t think I understand, your highness… I, uh, I’m sorry, but… Tell you… Tell you what? Uh, your highness!”

“Okay, so first of all, don’t ever call me that again.” The voice had suddenly become so cold that it made Virgil flinch and shiver at the same time. “That title is my father’s and don’t you go call me ‘prince’ either, got it? That’s Roman. I’m Remus, just Remus. And if you ever forget that, I’ll personally carve it into your body somewhere where you’ll always see it. Or maybe just all over your body.” Virgil swallowed dry again. That really didn’t sound so good, and it didn’t sound like an empty threat either. He started to feel light headed again.

“Secondly… Just, tell what happened. I don’t trust that guy, he’s way to prideful and a suck-up at that. So? What actually happened? Or don’t you have anything to say for yourself?” And how could Remus’ voice change the tone back that quickly? How did he continue as though nothing had happened at all?

But at least Virgil knew what to do now. So the prince wanted him to defend himself. Explain why he did what he did, give him a chance to redeem himself. Yeah, he could work with that. Though he knew that this was obviously dangerous as well. Anything you say or do can and will be used against you, right? Still, better than being sentenced without a chance to say anything at all, and honestly more than he’d expected to get.

So Virgil took a deep breath and nodded once. “Yes, of cause. It, um… It happened mostly like the guard told you. I, uhm, lost control and… The fire spread too fast for me to do anything.” He closed his eyes, remembering how he’d desperately tried to take back the flames but had only made everything worse. The screams and cries… He shook his head to disperse the memories. “I tried to, but it didn’t work. But I didn’t mean to! Please, you have to believe me, I didn’t-” Virgil cut himself off as his eyes meet glowing green ones, looking back down as fast as he could and mumbling an apology.

“Aha. And do you loose control often? Or what happened there?”

…

This prince didn’t know anything about how this was supposed to go either, did he? At least judging from his tone of voice. Great, just awesome…

“No, I usually don’t.”, Virgil answered nevertheless, “They had been trowing stones at me and things like that. I’m used to it but, uh…” Should he really say this? The prince would probably use that. Then again, what other choice did he have, really? “They had started to talk about tearing my wings off and… I just…”

“Acted on instinct? Got it.” The prince hummed in thought. “Well… I really, really don’t care about what you did there. And they honestly sound like a bunch of assholes anyways. Like, good job. Could have made it more painful, though…”

What the hell? What the actual hell? Okay, that had to be a trick. He just couldn’t be serious about that. And then he felt a finger underneath his chin, tilting up his head. His eyes lifted again to see the pale face with the glowing green eyes, a mustache growing on the upper lip. The prince had his lips pierced as his eyes looked Virgil up and down. “Heh. You’re kind of purple, aren’t you?”

Virgil flushed. What? He wasn’t that purple. Most people didn’t even notice his skin was slightly off-colour. The vibrant purple streaks in his otherwise black hair or the violet color of his eyes, sure, but not his skin. Or maybe they just hadn’t commented anything about it because they’d been too concerned with the black of his nails and lips or the bat-like wings sprouting from his back? Still, he wasn’t that purple.

“You’re cute, though. Not hot, but cute. And you’re fun to mess with. So easy to scare and that whimper you let out when he try to hide your reaction or the way you bite your lip when yo try to stop shaking!” The prince looked really happy as he laughed quietly to himself. “Yeah, I think I’m gonna keep you around. I wanna see you much, much more scared than that! And I’m curious to see your other reactions, too~”

The prince stood up abruptly, not saying anything else as he walked out of the door. What the hell was that? Virgil wasn’t too sure about what he was supposed to do, but he guessed he was supposed to stay put? Slowly, Virgil looked around. The throne room was empty. There were enough windows to his side. If he was quick about it, maybe he would be able to escape whatever was awaiting him once the prince came back.

“I would advice against that.”, a cool voice cut through his thoughts, making Virgil yelp and jump. What…? He looked over to the side where that sentence had come from. A young man with brown hair stood there, a dark blue suit hugging his frame. That looked expensive, and Virgil vaguely remembered the emblem on his jacket. So a noble. A noble had figured out he’d thought about escape, huh? Virgil swallowed again, biting his lips. He really hoped he hadn’t just added on to his sentence. Technically he hadn’t done anything yet, had he?

“Salutations. You are the demon-kin Remus talked about, I assume?”, the man asked. Virgil flinched, but gave a shaky nod. The man nodded back, a quick and sharp motion. He then walked over to Virgil, slowly as though not to frighten him, and wasn’t that just the weirdest thought? Someone being aware of Virgil’s feelings? “My name is Logan Night, and I shall bring you to the location you will be staying at until the prince has decided what to do with you. May I inquire your name?”

“…Virgil.”, he mumbled. The man hesitated for a moment, before he asked for a last name. Should he make something up? No, that probably wouldn’t do him much good. So he just bit his lip and shook his head.

“So just Virgil? I see.” Logan nodded again. “I will cut those robes now. Don’t be alarmed, I have orders to ensure no harm shall come to you.” Virgil nodded, though he was a little confused. Why would the prince give any such orders? That wouldn’t make any sense. He would be tortured and/or killed anyways, wouldn’t he? Then again, maybe the prince just wanted to do all of that himself? He had just talked about cutting off body parts as something he used to find entertaining, after all. Virgil shuddered again.

He barely registered the ropes falling to the floor over his thoughts, but when they did, his wings gave a flutter he hadn’t intended. Thankfully Logan didn’t say anything about it. Instead, the taller man only signed for him to stand up and follow him. Of cause Virgil did. Even though it looked pretty easy to escape right now, he didn’t dare test his luck.

They walked in silence and Virgil held his head down, not only to hide behind his bangs but also to avoid seeing the people point and stare. He hated when they did that. It was only when Logan led him up a flight of stairs instead of down that his head shot up again. And really, Logan nodded up. So he wouldn’t be staying in the dungeon? That was odd…

Suspiciously he walked up, followed the man with the dark blue eyes and light dust of freckles until the very top and into a cozy looking room. It had a bed, a few chairs, cushions, a chimney, a table, one window. The window was nailed shut, though. Probably so he couldn’t escape by flying out of here. But other than that, the room generally didn’t look as though a prisoner would be held here.

Virgil eyes Logan suspiciously as the other closed the door. The man gestured for him to sit down, and Virgil did. Even though he felt as though his very presence would ruin the room. It was just so… clean. And Virgil was so obviously living on the streets.

Logan sat down as well, offering the beginnings of a smile. “There we are. I’m afraid I won’t be able to tell you how long this will take. Prince Remus usually doesn’t concern himself with issues like this. But I would assume that he has a plan already and only needs to prepare or make sure of some things.”

Oh, how very comforting! Virgil took a shaky breath. At least the guy talked to him normally. Maybe he could ask him a few questions about what would happen? He hated the dread in his stomach.

“I, uhm… What… What usually happens?”, he asked silently, not daring to be any louder. Logan looked at him thoughtfully. “Hm, I don’t think you should take ‘usually’ as a measurement when it’s about Remus. He is quite… incalculably impulsive. He is smart, in his own way, but he doesn’t concern himself with rules or norms much.” Logan chuckled lightly. “If he wasn’t born a prince, I don’t doubt he would have been executed by now. And he takes great pride in this fact.”

“Ah. I see…” Virgil bit his lip, looking out of the window. So no clue what would happen next still. He wished he could just give in to his instincts and fight everyone and run away. But he didn’t dare to. Not in this situation. They’d find him, and any chance of survival would be gone then.

“He doesn’t hate the demon-kin, you know?”, Logan’s voice cut through his thoughts. Virgil looked back at him. What? “Remus. He doesn’t hate the demon-kin. Or anyone with magic running through their veins. And if he would have wanted to kill or torture you, he would have done so already. I may not know what he’s planing, but he doesn’t plan on either of those. Unless he changes his mind, that is.”

“Does he often change his mind about stuff like that?”, Virgil heard himself asking. To his surprise, Logan actually answered: “Oh, yes. Sometimes even in the middle of doing something. But how he feels about something or someone doesn’t change that easily. His heart may be the only consistent thing about him.”

Silence came back and Virgil looked back down at his hands. That hadn’t helped him much. There was still a lot of different scenarios playing through his head, and not one of them did he want to live through. Apparently Logan had noticed, because after a few minutes in silence that made his panic grow stronger and stronger the man asked: “Would you like a distraction? I could offer telling you about a book I’ve been reading. It may keep your fear at bay.”

Virgil looked at him silently. Why would he do that for him though?

“I am to stay here anyways, so I might as well. Besides, I was ordered to prevent you being harmed for now. Mental harm is just as dangerous as physical harm, you know? Though I doubt the prince actually meant that as well…”

Was Virgil just really obvious or was this guy really good at reading him? But Virgil nodded nonetheless. As Logan had said: Might as well.

And Logan was good at it, too. He presented historical facts with such a passion that it as hard not to be drawn in to it, even though Virgil had no clue what half the things were he mentioned as reference. And historical facts soon changed to be political, and political became astrology, and astrology became astronomy and astronomy mythology. Virgil only noticed how long he’d listened to Logan’s soothing voice when the door was pushed open suddenly and he jumped. Was it really sundown already?! Wait, not the time.

In the door stood a smiling prince with sparkling green eyes. “Hey, purple demon! I’m gonna take Lo from you real quick. Ice-knight! I need your opinion on something! Come here!”

Logan sighed, and smiled almost compassionately at Virgil. No. Yes? No, he probably imagined that.

Virgil watched as Logan stood up and bowed swiftly before the prince before stepping out of the room. And… Did Remus just wink at Virgil?! What? That prince confused him more and more every time he did anything.

The door was closed and immediately he could hear hushed voices talking. Probably about him. And all the fear he’d put off hit him at once now. He could barely even breath. No, wait, scratch that. He couldn’t breath anymore.

No, no, no, no, no! He didn’t want to die, he didn’t want to be cut up in tiny pieces, didn’t want to be tortured or poisoned or…

His lunges felt like they were exploding any second now, and he could feel himself shaking. Was he having a heart attack or something? No. No, this was just the panic. He knew that, that happened every now and again. He had to breath. If only his lunges would cooperate! Match that song’s rhythm his older brother had taught him before he’d died, that usually helped. What was it? Hm-hm-hm-hm,  la-lada-lada-lada, na-na, na-na, na-na, la-na. Right.

It took a little while, but finally he managed to calm his breathing down, and somehow that got him to breath down as well. It always did. Just in time too, it seemed. The door was sent flying open again, just as he had dried up his tears.

“Alright, Virgil, the decision has been made! As your prince I hereby sentence you, for the hilarious crime of turning a village into a torch, to be… my court magician once I leave the castle next week!”

Virgil couldn’t do anything but stare at the smiling prince for a few moments. That was a joke. That had to be a joke. But he looked serious?

“Isn’t your court supposed to be just nobles, though?”, he slowly asked finally. And out of all the questions in his head it just had to be that one, didn’t it? But the prince barely seemed to be bothered by it. “Nope! The magician is the exception from that rule.”

Virgil shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. “But I can’t control-”

“Relax! You’ll get time to practice. And I’ll give you all the books you need for that.” He waved his hand as though to disperse the thought.

“I can’t read, th-”

“Janus will teach you that.” His grin intensified.

“Won’t people be-”

“So what? Let them talk! They won’t do anything anyways. Wouldn’t dare.” Remus shrugged.

“But how can you trust me with-”

“I don’t trust you, don’t be rediculous! Nope!” Remus chuckled again. “One wrong move and you’ll be really in for it. But you can earn my trust, if you try. Plus, this nerd here vouches for you. That’s good enough for now.”

Virgil looked at Logan in shock, who only shrugged with a smile in response. He then looked back at Remus, who had a surprisingly soft look in his eyes. “Look, I get that that’s weird. And you probably aren’t thrilled by working for me. But you’ll have a place to stay and you’ll get payed. No more streets and idiots throwing stones.” Then the soft look vanished into thin air. “Well, not like you got a choice anyways. It’s either that or death, so… yeah.”

Virgil looked at him for a little bit longer, before he suspiciously asked: “Why?”

“Honestly? I wanna know more about demon-kin and your reactions to stuff are fun. That’s about it. Besides, you have the magic, that’s basically the only qualification, and you have more of it than any normal human with magical talents will ever have. So… eh.” The prince shrugged.

Virgil stared a few more moments. No one, absolutely no one, would ever employ a demon-kin. One would have to be crazy and anarchistic to even consider that. But it looked as though he just found that crazy anarchist…

So, knowing full well that he’d absolutely regret it sooner rather than later, he nodded. “Thank you. I’d… I’d really love to, if you’ll let me.”

And it was true: He absolutely did regret it, almost every hour of every day. Still, it was whatever. Better than what he had before, at least. Well, most of the time.

Taglist: @gattonero17

[michelleleahhh]

happiness is a butterfly

Summary: If Loki’s a killer, then what’s the worst he could do to a girl like you? One who is already hurt. 

Pairing: Loki/Reader 

Rating: M, Angst

Word Count: 2k

“Do you want me or do you not?”

Loki’s eyes dart to yours, “What does that mean?”

You lick your lips, heart pounding painfully in your chest. Is this aching from falling in love or from hitting the ground?

It’s just that… you’re so tired. So extraordinarily exhausted with how the night has turned out.

This morning you woke caged in his arms, bare chest pressed against your back, sinewy muscles nestled against your clammy skin. He trailed butterfly kisses down your neck, pulling you closer, his hands mapping your skin like it spanned continents. The valley of your breasts, the planes of your stomach, and the cave between your thighs until you both were spent to completion. Then, you got up, redressed, and snuck out of Avengers Tower just as dawn broke, treading back to your old walk-up in the West Village to get on with your day.

And now, you’re standing on the sidewalk, just outside of the bar you met him.

A bell chimes twice, marking two am. You should be freezing from the late February air of New York instead, the hazy hot air from the dive bar has left your skin overheated - with anticipation, with hate, with comfort.

“I felt one thing this morning, and now I’m feeling another,” you answer cryptically.

The live band’s strumming guitars creep outside, lulling patrons in to sway to the music. His eyes narrow, his face remains stoic. “It sounds like you are the one that is unsure.”

“You just spent two hours ignoring me and talking to her.” You argue, gnawing on your bottom lip, trying to not sound insecure.

He shakes his head, “Who?”

“While I sat in the corner waiting for you to come over to me, like-like I was some extendable, unwanted guest of yours.”

His lips pull down, “You are not making any sense. I asked you here.”

“Don’t do that, Loki.”

“Don’t do what?”

“Don’t sit there and pretend that I’m crazy, I know I’m not crazy.”

Loki pulls his head back, staring down at you over his pointed nose. He looks like a snake, weighing its options and ready to strike the venomous blow. “Well, you sound unstable.”

“Nice.” You snarl, crossing your arms over your chest.

They warned you.

They all warned you. All of the Avengers sat there leaving you to question your own sanity because you were trusting him with your heart. And they all warned you - said that Loki was not capable of loving anything but himself.

How did you get here?

“And who, pray tell, was I ignoring you for? The Assassin? Or perhaps it was Stark’s wife,” He snarls.

You look away, tucking your chin to your chest and looking at the sidewalk between you.

No, it was her. The new recruit, the one that everyone was in awe with - with her raw talent, witty banter, and bubbly personality. (And though you loath to admit it: her perfect body, flawless skin, flowing hair, and unique, sultry eyes.)

 “Ah, Miss Carter, I presume is who you are referring to.”

You don’t answer him, instead, you hug yourself, the cold air starting to creep into you and regretting that you left your jacket inside.  

He sighs and unzips the black sweatshirt he had on, wrapping it around your arms.

When you don’t move to put your arms through the sleeves, he scoffs. “Come pet, put on the jacket. It’s not exactly summer.”

“Don’t think this means you’re forgiven,” you bite out, pulling your arms through the soft cotton. It smells like him: crisp and clean and pine woods.

“I fear you’ve had too much to drink.”

Perhaps that is true, “Do you know what they even say about you?”

“Do you think I care what my brother and his little minions say?”

“I do,” you snap. “I think you care more than you pretend too. I think, in fact, you would change everything about yourself if it meant that you could be accepted. Even if that meant being with Ms. Carter,” you spit her name. “Not that you would mind being with Ms. Perfect Carter, with her long blonde hair, and crystal blue eyes, and delicate bone structure.”

Loki arches an eyebrow, “Careful, pet. Your jealousy is not becoming.”

“They say you’re evil- a-a- a sociopath, serial killer. Who never hesitated to double-cross his own brother, who wouldn’t hesitate to hurt me.” Okay, you’ve probably had too much wine. But the words keep coming, like some vile spew of truth. “And if that’s true, if everyone knows that’s true, what does that make me? Me. Someone who is still going with it, you, despite the warnings. Does that make me... some, some groupie? Like, am I a masochist? Or maybe I’m already hurt. So, what’s the worst that could happen if you are what they say you are?”

Loki visibly swallows but doesn’t say anything.

“Maybe, now, I am just expecting for you to hurt me, so that way it won’t hurt when it does? I’m expecting you t-to double-cross me too because that’s what your past has made me expect.”

You look into his eyes, seeing the green glaze over with something akin to pain. Like he’s trying to hide every emotion in a barrio that is unable to “It sounds like, you are the one that cares what they think.”

“Don’t be a jerk, Loki.”

The Demi-God lets out a bark of laughter, as the corner of his lips pull up. “I didn’t realize that I was the one being uncouth after your lovely soliloquy.” Your eyes skate to his lips, watching as they pull back like he’s ready to attack. If he’s as bad as they say, then maybe you’re already cursed.  He sighs, runs his long, pale hands through his hair and away from his face. “Perhaps, I should just call you one of those cars that to bring you home.”

“I don’t need a taxi.”

Loki clicks his tongue, “Then should we go back inside? I can only imagine how cold you must be.”

You shake your head, “I’m not going back inside to see all of them.”

“Can’t face your silent departure?”

“It’s called an Irish Exit,” you tell him in a grumbling voice.

“Yes, aptly called, judging by the way you stumbled through the entryway and slammed the door shut.”

A shiver works up your spine, the warmth from the alcohol completely gone. You burrow yourself in Loki’s jacket, pulling it tighter around yourself.

He sighs. “Come,” he calls, pulling you to a car on the street. With the quick wave of his hand, it unlocks and he pulls it open for you to get into the backseat.

You pause, staring for two moments at the black leather. Then you get in, perching yourself on the edge of the seat as Loki slithers in beside you a foot between you.

“It’s not much warmer in here,” you protest.

Loki rolls his eyes and waves his hand, a blast of warm air suddenly flooding through the car.

“Better?”

You shrug, finally relaxing and crossing your legs, picking at the hangnails on your fingers.

“I…” Loki starts then pauses with an overly dramatic sigh. “I am not interested in Miss Carter.”

You bite your lip. “Yet.”

“Okay, now I’m calling you a car.” He pulls a phone from the thin air.

“Don’t call me a taxi,” you argue, wrenching the cell from his fingertips and throwing it down next to you.

“Then what is it that you want? I just made it quite clear I was not interested in her.”

“I don’t want you not interested in her, I want you to interested in me.” You finally admit, pulling on your nails viciously. There’s a silence that sits heavily in the car.  A tear slips down your cheek as you burrow further into his sweatshirt. “I just want… to dance with you.”

Loki’s eyebrows furrow across his forehead, turning more towards you. “The music in the bar isn’t necessarily music I would dance to.”

You let out an unexpected bubble of laughter. No, you wouldn’t dance to the weird alt-rock music that was inside either. But as soon as the joke fades, you’re back to feeling that lonely, dark, silence.

“I mean,” you pause. “Every time I think I’m happy… it’s like a butterfly and escapes through my fingers. I can never manage to actually keep it. I just want to - you know - be with you, I guess.” You gnaw at your bottom lip. “I want to - you know - dance with you or hold your hand when walking down the street or just hold you tight regardless of who would see it. I don’t want to hide us because it is more convenient for you. You know? I guess… I just want you…”

Loki stills, falling back against the seat and staring out the windshield. He takes three breaths in, exhales them a little longer each time.

“You were the one who left this morning.” He notes, drumming his fingers against his thigh. “I thought you did not want people to kno-“

“I didn’t,” you cut him off. “But… I don’t want to-”

Loki scoffs, shaking his head. “It seems like you don’t know what it is you want. You do not wish to be seen with me, but you do not wish to be ignored by me either. Do you really want people to know that you are with me? The cursed one who tried to conquer this world.”

“I think…” You think you do. You think you want him. You think you want him to meet your family or friends or the people that actually give a damn about you. And you want to meet his people in that way, to joke with them, to tease him in front of them in a way that isn’t going to lead to snide remarks or people gesturing for you to stay away from him.

“Loki is complicated,” Thor whispered with bright, drunk eyes when you finished your fourth glass of wine in a long sip. “It would be easier for you, in the long run, to stay away from him. He is trying to redeem himself and if you aren’t completely committed to staying by his side, then I would suggest you do the best thing and leave him. He’s delicate - so if you are not sure - just stay away..” 

You want to tell Loki what his brother said.  

You bite your lip instead, another tear slipping down your cheek. “I think I just need time I guess, to figure it out.”

Loki juts his head in a sharp nod. His body pulling back into a frigid, statuesque rigid pose.  

“I’m so confused,” you finally admit, when he doesn’t say anything as another tear falls. “God,” you mumble, wiping the tears. “I want you, Loki, but- I’m...” You trail off, unsure of where you were exactly going with that sentence.

“Well,” Loki begins bitterly, “You know where I stand.”

“Do I? I feel like you haven’t said a word,” you accuse.

“I am not interested in anyone else. I think it is quite evident that I do not often involve myself with women. I am quite… particular of who I desire.”

You hold your breath. “So, you… you want me too?”

“If I must spell it out, then yes. I am interested in pursuing you.”

“Pursuing?” You tease, with a watery smile, “What, like courting me?”

“Something to that effect, yes.” Loki deadpans making your heart skip a beat. “Though, I do not want to cause you to rush into something if you are not… sure.”

You study him, your eyes perusing his face when he finally turns to look at you. You imagine entering a relationship with Loki of Jotunheim would be somewhat of a scandal for most of the world. You imagine what people would think of you. Imagine the headlines blogs, newspapers, and websites would write of a woman who would knowingly enter a romantic relationship with an anti-hero.  

You aren’t sure if you are ready for that, honestly.

So, you nod, pulling his hand into your lap and tracing his long fingers.

Loki’s eyes glance down at your hands combined, studying as you lift his fingers to your lips and place a soft kiss on his palm.

“Can I sleep on it?” You ask solemnly thinking you already know what your question will bring.

But to your surprise he just nods, his lips pulling down not an argument on his lips.

“You can call me a cab now,” you whisper, tightening your fingers on his hands.

Taglist: @fairlightswiftly​​, @javelinamilk​​, @wannabebr1t​​, @joyofbebbanburg​, @schmidten17​​, @winterisakiller@addyliners, @iamverity,  @kybaeza​,  @sherlokiholland​

[astridbecks]

your heartbreak’s not your own anymore ; 1.7k, essek/caleb. tw suicidal ideation, partial drowning. occurs immediately after 2x97. on ao3.

///

The railing of the ship is the only thing keeping Essek anchored: the uneven texture of it, the faint pain of splinters not quite breaking his skin when he grips it harder. His feet ache where they press against the deck, unused to standing for so long. Still, the skin of his face is uncomfortably hot, the cool night air sharp against his blood-flushed cheeks. 

We’ve done nothing but show you kindness.

The sky feels more open, though he would be hard-pressed to find an actual difference between this sky and Rosohna’s. And the stars are different here. It’s a miniscule thing to be noticing at a time like this, but—all above him, a truth against the black. Like his body now, unprotected by glamour and bare to the Nicodranas air. If anyone saw him, an enemy to everyone, they would kill him without a second thought. 

We’ve done nothing but— 

He would deserve it. 

The worst part had not been the betrayal in the eyes of his friends, as he’d thought it would be. To die knowing they hated him would have been painful, but expected. 

But the kindness. 

Jester’s hand in his. Caduceus’ low voice. Caleb taking his face in his hands, telling him— 

Essek takes a breath, lets it out as a slow rush of air between parted lips. Closes his eyes. Where Caleb had pressed a kiss to his forehead, he imagines he can feel a scar, an unhealed brand. Below, the sea laps gently against the hull of the ship. 

It takes so little effort to lean forward, the railing digging into his stomach. To shift gravity and allow his body to pitch forward into empty air. For a moment, he’s falling, eyes still closed, and his mind is wiped silent by the wind for the first time in months— 

The impact with the water is harder than he expected, driving the breath from his chest. Instinctively, he opens his eyes, and through the salt-sting he sees only whirling air bubbles. Cold water rushes down his throat, burning as it goes. Panic rises despite everything, and he thrashes as the weight of his robes drags him down, darkness taking the edges of his vision.

Something seizes his wrist with painful force and wrenches him upwards. He breaks the surface, waterlogged and half-drowned, and finds himself face-to-face with Caleb, whose hand is clenched around Essek’s wrist, keeping him afloat. 

Essek tries to pull away, but Caleb gestures sharply and he finds himself flung from the water, hurled onto the deck of the ship. He lands hard—could easily have cushioned his fall, but takes it. 

As he starts to sit up, Caleb rises over the railing himself, dripping with seawater, and reaches for Essek’s collar, hauling him to his feet with surprising strength. He slams Essek against the mast with his forearm braced against the drow’s chest, fingers clenched in the fabric of his shirt, breath ragged. When he speaks, his voice is a low growl. “What are you doing?”

Essek coughs, hands pressing weakly against Caleb’s shoulders in token resistance—not trying to push him away, but pretending he could if he wanted to. (He should want to.)  

“What are you doing,” Caleb repeats, quieter, but Essek can see that he knows.  

Essek chokes out past the last of the saltwater in his throat: “I told you. I do not—I am not redeemable.” 

“So you are going to cast yourself into the sea? Run from it all?” The saltwater trickling from Caleb’s hair and down his face could be tears. “We are offering you another chance to live, not to—” He cuts himself off with a frustrated noise. 

“I want,” Essek starts, but there’s no way to finish that sentence that would make sense, that would make Caleb see. The human’s hair clings wet to his face, and Essek has this terrible urge to reach up and brush it aside. 

“What was your plan?” He hasn’t let up his pressure on Essek’s chest, keeping him pinned, fenced in. It should feel suffocating. Essek hates how it feels safe instead. “What did you think would happen?”

“I imagine,” Essek says, voice steady in a way everything else in him is not, “that if I was found out now, I would be taken outside of the radius of a beacon and executed. But if I die within the radius of a beacon, then I will return to it.”

“And when you are reborn and begin remembering? When you are a child and you find that you still carry these—these memories of regret and betrayal, what then?”

Essek tries to pull away. Caleb grabs his chin, forces his face towards him. The human’s eyes burn hotter than that shade of blue should be able to. Essek bites his tongue until he tastes copper, the pain a bright flare in the numbness of everything else, and wishes more than anything that he were somewhere, anywhere else.

“Tell me, Essek,” Caleb presses, insistent. “What does this do for you except delay the inevitable confrontation you must have with your guilt?”

Essek inhales, tasting salt in the back of his throat. “It is not the first time I have considered starting anew,” he whispers. “To at least have a second life to my name. I only did not because of the years that would be lost without memory. Ten, fifteen years of interruption to my work—it would not have been worth it.” 

“And now?”

“Now,” he says. Closes his eyes so he does not have to see Caleb’s face. “It is the expedient thing to do.”

“Bullshit,” Caleb snarls. “You are running from this.” 

“Caleb,” he says, because he cannot say friend, but the man’s name is as much of a thorn on his tongue. The shudder that runs through his body must be obvious from this close, because Caleb moves back just a little—not enough to break contact, but a lessening of pressure. 

Essek opens his eyes again, but looking at Caleb is too much, like sun off the sea. Unbearable.  

“Running will not solve anything.” Caleb’s voice twists bitter, just for a second. “Trust me. I know.” A long breath, then: “I do not wish for you to die, Herr Thelyss, even if it would only be—temporary.”

All this time, Essek has expected—emptiness, disdain, a world turned against him. He can handle cruelty or anger. He does not know what to do with love. 

He opens his mouth, tries to tell Caleb to go, to leave him, but instead the truth comes tumbling out, a wave he cannot stop, as much of a drowning as the sea below. “I do not want to feel this. I want to forget, even if only for a short time. And perhaps in fifteen years—” His voice cracks shamefully. He pushes through. “Perhaps I will have a conscience and a courage that I do not have now. Or at least I will be discovered by those who conduct my anamnesis and dealt with before I even fully recall what crimes I have done.”

Caleb hisses a sharp breath out between his teeth. Pulls away at last, and the night air rushes into the space between them, chill against Essek’s still-wet clothes. Caleb, too, is in the same formalwear, now half-ruined with water from jumping in the ocean after Essek. Essek has the ridiculous urge to apologize for that. He’ll just add it to the long list of things he’s done wrong tonight.

He takes Caleb’s hands in his own, and as handsome as the man is, his skin is weathered and scarred from more living than Essek has accomplished in the eighty-odd year headstart he had. For a moment, it’s only that—skin on skin. Caleb’s hands are so warm, despite the chill of the sea and the night air.

“What,” Caleb begins, but Essek brings their hands up, presses Caleb’s to his chest, just below where Essek’s collar dips to reveal dusk-dark skin. 

“You have a powerful mastery of the arcane,” he breathes, and now he cannot look away from Caleb’s eyes, bright as they burn, his voice shaking with an unspoken plea. “You could make it quick.” 

Caleb’s fingers clench, nails digging into Essek’s skin through the fabric of his robe. “You will not find satisfaction by burning it all down,” he whispers, and there’s a memory-heavy weight to his voice. He’s looking at Essek like he sees something else, something beside a miserable, cowardly traitor. It’s an inferno, it’s hopeful. It makes Essek’s breath catch in his throat. 

“I am not an innocent. I have caused the deaths of thousands.” The corner of his mouth curls, bitter. “You would not have to carry my death on your conscience. It would be justice.”

“Do you think we would not mourn our friend?”

“Your friend was a lie,” Essek snaps. “I was foolish, wishing for something I could never have after what I have done. I should have never allowed myself to—” The words stick in his throat. 

“To care? Is that what you cannot say?” He jabs a finger into Essek’s shoulder. “Well, you are, as they say, shit out of luck, because you do care, and we care for you, whether you believe it or not, and we have offered you a way to the light. If you choose to turn away and continue on your former path, then so be it, but I will not allow you to flee entirely from this.”

There’s a growing tightness in Essek’s chest that radiates from where Caleb touches him. Yes, he cares, and it is not a comfort. It is a wound he cannot escape.

“Allow yourself to feel this,” Caleb says, unbearably gentle. “You have been offered a chance. You may not get another.”

“I do not deserve—” Love. Forgiveness. Anything being offered by these people that he wishes he could call friends. 

“You have it regardless.” Caleb steps away. “You have it.” He sighs, glances over the railing. “If I turn my back on you, will you throw yourself into the sea again?”

Essek shakes his head and summons a tone of voice that falls just short of casual. “Not tonight.”

“Not tonight,” Caleb repeats, nodding. “That will do for now.” He hesitates, then touches the tips of his fingers to Essek’s cheek. “We take this one day at a time, ja?”

Essek nods.

[eatsyou-a]

this drabble consists graphic depictions of gore, manipulation, and body horror! please read at your own risk!

“douma - sama ... please. take me to paradise. i want to see my family, my little boy. maybe then i can finally be happy.” her voice was meek, cheeks covered in tears as weak fingers grip onto the cape that sets the stage for his grandeur. she was beautiful; long black hair draped over her shoulders, the deep browns of her eyes had settled upon the rainbows of his own; however, no engraved upper two in place of the pupils, the colors untainted by an emptiness of black.

abandoning his perch, hands grab her own, with an attempt to console. tears ran down his face, falsely giving her the impression that he fully sympathized with her. how he too felt the pity of losing her child and husband to demons that raided the village. instead the tears was truly feeling bad for her. she really was so stupid. absolutely pitiful for a human being. such a shame her looks are the only redeeming feature.

hands grip hers tighter, one to stroke her cheek so kind and gentle, she completely puts her guard down as she rests within a palm. “hana, was it?” 

she nods, beaming. “you remembered my name, douma - sama.”

he smiles, fangs hidden behind curved lips. “of course. i remember every one of my worshipers. you all have such unique stories with distinguished features. hard for me to forget a beautiful face like yours.” the mere cold touch was warmth by the flush of her body. ah, she was flattered. how cute. it’s ... endearing almost. “are you ready for your enlightenment? i won’t do it without your permission. you’re important to me.”

his charisma is so high, those words could fool anyone who wasn’t paying attention to close signs that he was lying. funny how he pretends to care, when in truth all of his followers were throwaways. this girl was no exception to this.

she nods again, moving closer to rest against his body. there was an invisible safety net whenever they were all around him. as they should. he was helping them, after all. what kind of founder would he be if he wasn’t there for those that need him the most? “what ... do i do? should i say anything?” and there’s no suspicions at all on why they’re in the more secluded areas of the temple. no one could hear them, only surrounded by trees and the silence that enveloped the atmosphere of this space. “do something? douma - sama ...”

his eyes are so soft, claws running through her hair, then resting at the small of her back. mere absorption wouldn’t do today. it’s been a month without consumption, which was his own choice, but the real feeling would be to pick her apart bone by bone, peeling her skin off with her eyeballs being a delicacy. so he leans forward, lips brushing against her neck. there’s no underlying innocence here, teeth grazing as fangs gently prick.

“douma - sama? what are you---” 

cutting her off, teeth bites into her flesh, ripping it off the bone like delicate meats. this caused her to scream out, this time tears of pain and betrayal running down her pretty little face. too bad no one was here to save her. very unfortunate that this was the best part.

this wasn’t the enlightenment he promised. what kind of gods eat their worshipers alive. suspicions clocked through her red hazed mind; there were rumors that this being was a demon from outside sources. it wasn’t popular gossip, only kept between of two or three people, but she had managed to overhear. there’s refusal in that belief. he has shown incredible things! like healing from an incurable sickness or aid those who were paralyzed. no one with a kind heart would ever do that. unless the rumors were true, that he really was a--- “help me! somebody help me!” as she tries to kick and scramble away from his grip but it was like a vice. 

instead he hums, pulling her closer feeling her blood drip down his chin like an enveloping warmth. she was shaking, poor thing. oh! she must be excited then. of course, only he can deliver her to that place she so desired. “hana, you won’t be in pain for much longer.” regardless of ripping skin from her throat, there’s still a fond gentleness to his voice. “aren’t you happy? i know i am.”

a hand reaches up to shove it in his face, eyes wide in fear. there’s a plan in her mind, run away and get help. except she was too weak, her kicks and shoves are like that of damaging a well constructed wall. however, she hesitates when she sees the pain in his eyes, brows raised in a way that he’s hurt for her reacting rather dramatically. “d - demon ... you’re a demon!” 

he pouts, easily prying her hand off her face, only smearing the blood. “demon? that’s a rather rude assumption, ya’ know!” so he grabs her wrist and licks at her palm and between hana’s fingers. it was ... sweet and much richer. sweeter than those he’s eaten previously. she must have marechi blood, which causes him to grin wide to show off pointed fangs with slightly widened eyes. this type of sweet intoxication wouldn’t normally affect him, however there’s a hunger radiating; with a sane mind still in tact. well, as sane as you could be while you’re a demon eating other human beings as a guise of a god. what a joke. 

“you’ll be going to highest form of enlightenment. forever happy in that paradise with your husband and child.” his voice was too calm, mouth opening and biting down on the bones of her index and middle finger, ripping them from their tendons. another scream rips from her garbled throat, and he smiles so sweetly as he crunches down and swallows. “i will end you from your misery that is your life.” then, seemingly with no effort at all, he tears her arm from the elbow down. blood coated the floorboards underneath into a growing pool, her kimono becoming soaked with her own crimson. although, this didn’t seem to bother him at all.

crudely, he uses her own limb to brush the hair out of her tear flooded eyes. “ah! you’re crying. here, let me help since you’re too weak to do it yourself.” this time using her own fingers to wipe the tears away, trying to console the growing pain erupting from her body. then, a finger presses into her eye, pulling it out of the socket. the sobbing never stopped, he noticed; her body jerking and shaking from the shock emitted torture she was receiving. huh, he wonders why as he pops her glassy eye into his mouth into a sickening crunch. “sorry that it’s so messy!” like he’s apologizing for the mess she created, scratching his cheek in slight embarrassment with her limb. 

“i ... ... thought you said ...” she can barely breathe, finding out rather quickly that he bit into a main artery in the neck. her singular eye is wide, a mess of saliva escaping past the corners of her bloodied mouth. she’s sitting in a puddle of her own urine, the pain baring to be too much. such a shame, her life isn’t due to be for much longer at this rate. maybe ten minutes at most. fingers twitch ever so lightly, sliding down his body. seems she has given up. there’s only a big enough imagination with how her husband and son ended up; probably in a scenario very similar to this one. “you ... loved me. i ... ...” a long pause, which earns a very curious douma. “i’m ... ... very important to you.” seems she can’t manage anymore words out, looking up at him in a silent communication of please end my misery. i beg you. does heaven even exist at this point? let her end up there.

unfortunately, there was no sympathy and a warped perception of what he deems ending prolonged suffering. what he’s doing, he thinks he’s helping her. the screaming fits of agony and borderline sadistic torture will bring her to that happy place. besides, do these eyes ever lie? “you are! don’t you see what i’m doing?” placing the amputated arm to the side, leaning forward to lick her stained face. “i’m bringing you there, to eternal paradise. you’re not in pain, hana. you just think you are.” then he smiles again, retying her hair back in the warmth of her blood. can’t hide the beauty of her face. he’s definitely saving her skull in his collection. “soon, you won’t feel a thing. not anymore. i do love you, so much. remember?”

carefully, he lifts up her arm with a never ending fountain of blood oozing from the open wound. her bone is the most prominent, along with the various ripped muscles and tendons that are no longer connected. bringing it up to his face, he licks into the stumped appendage, tongue twisting into the flesh before taking a large bite. her scream was quieter this time, trying to pull her arm away seemingly out of instinct, which pulls off more than what was intended. it almost started to peel from the veins, a messy cut. among the crying and pleas to end her life, he clicks his tongue in annoyance, fingers grabbing the bits of flesh and letting her arm hang. 

“you shouldn’t have moved, hana. look what you did. ah~ i understand though. this road is tough, but you’re doing so well.” however, those sweet words didn’t match the blood in his mouth, the flesh that lingers on his tongue. his finger trails down her body, over her soaked kimono and thighs as he raises it just enough to not to expose it. he watches the toes curl as he gives her a quiet ‘shhh’ before his claws dig into the fat of her thighs and twists the leg in a way where the flesh isn’t suppose to stretch that way, the echo of the crack and pops to fill the wretched sight of the room. could you blame him? the legs were the best part!

watching her throw her head back, he takes this opportunity to lean down and bite deep into her throat, even snagging up her vocal cords and into the bone. he hears the hammering of her heart slow down in an alarming rate, then the only thing he catches is “go to hell” before her head snaps from her spine and hangs off the flesh from her neck.

welcome to your happiness.

[fernwehbookworm]

Haunted- Chapter 6

Lena feels giddy with her first bite of food. Solid food. Because she is solid again. The warm tomato sauce bursts across her tongue, mixing with the garlicky crust and earthy flavor of mushrooms. A tomato slice pulls off with the melted cheese and Lena moans into the bite. Kara laughs from across the table in the rundown pizza place tucked into a forgotten alleyway. It was the best pizza Lena had ever had, living up to Kara’s claims. The pizzeria sold by the slice or the pie, Lena getting the former, Kara ordering the later. Which didn’t surprise Lena at all, after practically being by her side for a week. The Pizzeria was also open twenty-four hours a day, which was great for the starving CEO at 5 am.

Lena wipes at her lip self consciously as she notices Kara staring. “What?” Lena asks.

“Nothing, just still can’t believe you are actually here.”

“You’re telling me.” Lena laughs, “I was very worried when you went to your sister’s. I didn’t think I would ever be able to reach you.”

“Hey, I was freaked out. But we are here now.”

“Yes, we are.” Lena smiles softly. “Does this count as our first date?”

“Only if that means we get a second. This isn’t what I was thinking when I asked you out. I planned on roses and candles and probably some cheap champagne.”

“I think this is perfect.” Lena takes another bite and chews quickly before continuing. “Everyone always wants to woo me. To give me fancy things and impress me with money. This,” Lena gestures with her slice around the dimly lit pizza parlor, “This is wonderful.”

“Good, because I am far from fancy.” Kara smiles, a blush coloring her cheeks as she and Lena lock eyes. Kara only looks away when her phone rings.

“It’s Alex. Hold on,” Kara says and Lena nods. “Hey, Al. Any news? Okay, great. Yes, I’m sure she will want to be there. Thanks. See you soon.”

“Well?” Lena asks as Kara hangs up.

“They will have the warrant within the hour. They have enough to seize records, thanks to you. The team is gearing up to arrest Max Lord. I figured you would want to see that.”

“See it? I want to be a part of it. Come on.” Lena stands and takes one last bite of her slice and drops a large bill on the table. Kara scrambles to follow after Lena with her pizza box.

“Where are we going?” Kara asks through a mouthful of triple meat pizza.

“Lord Tech, of course. I need to talk to Max himself, plus he’ll need to be distracted. Otherwise, once he catches a whiff of the feds, he will disappear.”

“So what's your plan?” Kara asks.

“To go rub it in his face that I am not actually dead and then keep him talking until your sister busts down his door and cuffs him.”

“Doesn’t sound like much of a plan. How are you getting in?”

“Oh honey, I’m a Luthor. I can get in anywhere.”

Lena flags down a cab and Kara climbs in the back seat with Lena, continuing to eat her pizza. Kara offers Lena a slice but Lean declines. Kara just shrugs and hums happily as she finishes the last three before they get out in front of Lord Tech. Lena straightens to her full height, gathering an air about her that directly contradicts the sweats she had put on to replace the lab clothing she had been trapped in, collected and held for testing, of course. The MIT sweatshirt even covers most of her hands and Kara has tried very hard not to be distracted by that fact.

Lena strides into the building like she owns it, not even stopping as a confused security guard calls out for her to but then choking off their commands as they realize that a ghost has entered the building. Kara trails behind, unwilling to let Lena out of her sight now that she isn’t at risk of losing her.

The elevator is quite as Lena begins to set up the chess pieces in her mind. She is thinking through the moves Max and she had been playing for since taking over for Lex. She will play him like a fiddle until the FBI shows up. Lena smirks at the thought.

“So… this is my most interesting first date. Saving my date from completely disappearing, pizza, and now an arrest. I don’t think I can ever top this.” Kara breaks the silence and into Lena’s thoughts.

Lena laughs. “Yeah, it is pretty memorable. You are pretty memberal.” “And you are very pretty.” Kara grins, cheeks stretching with the width of it. Lena laughs again and that is all Kara wants to hear. It is a great laugh.

“I have a feeling that the two of us working together will be a great thing,” Lena says honestly.

“Me too, but we can still go on a second date right? This isn’t going to be one of those situations that you don’t date people you work with, right?”

“I just don’t date people who work for me. Not with me. The better the chemistry, the better the result.” Lena winks. Kara is saved from stuttering out a response when the elevator doors open and Lena strides out. The CEO is no doubt on a mission. Kara is just along for the ride as the powerful woman tears a warpath past upper-level executive offices and makes her way to the giant doors clearly installed to stroke Max’s ego, his initials inlaid in gold, taking up the entire floor to ceiling doors.

Ignoring the stuttering secretary, Lena pushes the doors open and sweeps into the room. Kara mumbles an apology to the woman before brushing past also. Max stands quickly at the intrusion from behind his desk. Lena suppresses a chuckle. Max gathers himself and straightens his tie.

“L-Lena Luthor. What are- How are you not—”

“Dead? Yes, it seems like it was quite a misunderstanding.” Lena makes her way to the wet bar and pours herself a drink. “Want anything Kara? Max here only stocks the best whisky. It’s really his only redeeming quality.”

“Oh, umm, no thank you. Whisky isn’t really my thing.” Kara decides to hang towards the door.

“And who is this?” Max asks, noticing Kara only after Lena drew attention to her.

“Oh, the reporter who saved my life after my lab accident. She really is quite brilliant. And her story on my death will be printed in the morning, and then her story on my resurrection will be printed the day after. But I am sure, her article on your arrest will earn her awards.”

“My arrest?” Max repeats, indignantly.

“Why yes. You see, Max, you slipped up. You got sloppy and greedy while I waited for the opportunity to strike. I—” Lena is interrupted by Max’s phone ringing.” Don’t you need to get that? Could be important.”

“No, I am much more interested in how I might be arrested. You and I both know that I am too careful.”

“Oh, you used to be. But I think you have grown careless in your own age. Also without Lex protecting you and holding your hand, you got in over your head. I mean, really, trying to kill me when you were literally the only one who knew my plans had changed. That was just idiotic. And then, your man didn’t even do it right. He left it up to chance. An experiment gone wrong. Granted, it was almost clean. You almost got away with it, you just didn’t count on such a connection between me and a stranger.”

“What are you even talking about?” Max seems to be reigning his composure after his initial surprise.

“Are we really going to play this game?” Lena sighs after taking a drink and sets her glass down, purposefully next to the coaster. “Fine. I know Max. You sent in a sloppy assassin to kill me after I told you I couldn’t make our meeting because I was stuck in the lab. He just changed the settings on my matter transporter and it didn’t kill me. Instead, I was stuck in a state in between being molecularly solid and being separated. Luckily, I was able to anchor myself to my favorite pen and then communicate with Miss Danvers here,” Lena pauses to point to Kara, who wiggles her fingers in an awkward wave, “And she was able to reverse the conditions to bring me back.”

“And what proof do you have of all this pseudoscience you claim to be happening?”

“Oh not much on the actual science yet, but the assassin and your shady dealings, plenty.”

Max smirks. “That seems unlikely. Why else would you be here? You are just trying to scare me into confessing something that is untrue.”

“Oh, no. I’m just here to watch.”

“Watch? Watch what?”

A commotion sounds in the hallway and heavy footsteps thunder towards them. Kara moves away from the door and urges Lena to the side of the room as Max’s eyes go wide and fix on the closed office doors.

“Watch you be dragged away kicking and screaming,” Lena smirks as the doors burst open jackbooted, FBI swat troops storm in. The women raise their hands but are completely ignored as the agents surround Max Lord.

Agent Danvers strides into the room and begins reading out the arrest warrant and Max’s rights. She pauses briefly to salute Lena silently before shoving Max out the door.

Kara is busy watching her sister and doesn’t notice Lena dialing her phone.

“Yes, Jess? Dump our stock in Lord Tech. I have a feeling it’s about to tank. And anything of L-Corp buy up. I'm about to rise from the dead."

A couple of agents stay back to escort Kara and Lena from the building. By the time the reporter and CEO make it to the lobby, a massive crowd has gathered out the doors and Max Lord is struggling as he is pushed through the crowd. He bites comments at the reporters, jerking his head side to side, much like a muzzled dog on a leash. Lights flash like fireworks and Lena holds back, slowing to a stop just short of the doors.

"You should probably wait. This will be a mess." Lena says softly, taking a moment to actually look Kara in the eye.

Kara smiles softly, "Hey, we've made it this far together. I'm seeing this through with you."

Lena seems to deflate with relief to not have to face the mob alone. Then she takes a deep breath to build herself back up. One of the agents opens the door for them, the other leading the way with the first following behind the two women. It takes a moment for the press to turn from where Max Lord was loaded into a government SUV and to turn to look upon the newcomers. Kara could have sworn she could hear a pin drop in that second. But it would have been lost in the next as the reporters scramble to get a  good look.

More agents force themselves between the crowd and the CEO, forming a small circle to give her room. Lena ignores all questions and waits for the chaos to die down as she levels a glare over the crowd. Soon just the flashing of lights and shuffle of feet fill the air.

"Now, I realize you have many questions. I will not answer most of them, the exclusive will be going to Catco because, with their reporter's help, I was able to contact the FBI and help provide information for them to arrest Max Lord. As you can see, I, Lena Luthor, am not dead. Nor was I ever. I sincerely apologize for the multiple power outages and L-Corp will be working to help those affected. The rest of the story can be read tomorrow through Catco. Good day."

Lena strides towards The final government SUV without waiting for more questions, Kara right on her heels. The questions come anyway, some even thinking to throw some towards Kara. Kara follows Lena's lead and ignores them all. Once an agent closes the door, all the shouting is finally muffled and the flashing lights are barely visible through the darkly tinted windows.

Lena deflates once more and leans her head against the glass, closing her eyes. Kara watches her. That's all Kara feels like she is doing, too afraid of Lena suddenly disappearing again. Without looking, Lena holds out her hand and Kara just stares at it. Lena sighs and opens her eyes to look at Kara.

“I thought there was going to be handholding that came with our dating?”

“Dating?” Kara asks, still confused.

“Well, we had one date, and I would like to go on a second. Multiple dates usually means dating. Unless you didn’t enjoy our first date?” Lena raises an eyebrow at Kara.

“No! What? I mean, yes! I had a great time. How many people have a first date that ends in the arrest of a corrupt businessman?”

“I’ve had three. Granted, the man was the date for the other two, so this is far better.”

“This has been the best first date I have ever had.” Kara twines her fingers with Lena’s and relaxes against the seat of the car.

After a debriefing with Alex, Kara and Lena were free to go. Kara shuffles a bit on the sidewalk outside of the building, unsure what to do. She wasn’t really ready to go home just yet. “Would you like to come back to mine and watch a movie?” Lena asks as if reading Kara’s mind. “I need to shower first but we could order more food and just hang out. I don’t think I’m ready to be alone yet.”

“Me either. Is that weird? I mean it was only a couple of days, but it's like I am so used to your presence now, it will be weird to be without.”

Lena smiles softly, “Same. Come on.”

A short cab ride later, and the couple make it to Lena’s penthouse. Kara tries not to snoop too much as Lena showers but Lena did say for Kara to help herself to any drinks in the fridge and pick from the take out menus in the drawer. Kara orders from her favorite Chinese place and settles on Lena’s much too comfortable couch to look through her video streaming services.

Lena is out before the food arrives and she pays cash when it does. It’s a weird sort of domesticity that Kara feels settling over her as Lena pads towards the couch with a paper bag in her fuzzy socks. Kara smiles at her and Lena grins back.

“There are some sweats and a t-shirt I put in the bathroom if you want to change,” Lena says while unpacking the red and white cartons.

“Sounds perfect. I’ll be right back.”

A quiet evening in with a wonderful woman is just what Kara needed after all the chaos and panic of the week. The food dwindles to just enough for leftovers as Kara and Lena pick at it. Lena stands to put it away before settling on the couch, right next to Kara. Without thinking, Kara lifts her arm and places it around Lena’s shoulders, pulling her close. It felt like something she had been doing for years, not for the first time. Soon the two begin to slowly sink lower and lower into the couch, and by the time the credits roll, Kara is half asleep on her back with Lena snoring softly in her chest. Kara manages to reach the remote to turn off the TV and pull a blanket over them. There was no way she was waking Lena now, plus the couch was really comfortable.

[thedrunkdoc]

Give You Everything

AN: I haven’t written for such a long time. 7 years to be exact so please be patient with me. 🥺 This is the first ever smut drabble that I was able to finish. ☺️ Stay at home and stay safe! ❤️

~~~~~~~

“You’re fired.”

The words kept echoing inside of Baekhyun’s head as he packed his stuff from his office desk inside the cardboard box. He wasn’t the only unlucky one after their department head was switched. It had only been two days since they’ve had a new boss and four of his workmates already bid their final goodbyes to their workmates. Tough luck.

As he was finished clearing his desk, he received a text message from someone he’s indebted to. His phone started ringing after a few seconds with the caller ID of that person. He was frustrated and embarrassed. He had borrowed money to pay rent for his apartment and now he was jobless. He couldn’t say that. He turned his phone on silent and threw it on the floor.

It earned a few glances and glares from his former workmates which made him want to just be swallowed by the ground or something.

When the phone stopped ringing, he crouched down to pick it up. When he was about to stand up, he hit his head below his desk which made his glasses fall to the floor. He heaved a sigh and picked it up. There was a small crack at the bottom. Not that it would interfere with his vision or something. It just looked fucking ridiculous and it didn’t make sense for someone who’s wearing formal clothes to have a broken pair of glasses.

--

Baekhyun was having a nice warm bath in his unpaid apartment. He stayed there for 4 years, ever since he landed his job, and now he’s in danger of losing his place. He stood under the shower for almost half an hour contemplating whether or not he should move back in to his parents’ house. He never got along with his father and his mother would be heartbroken if she found out that he lost his job. He was desperate to feel some sense of relief after all that happened today. He wanted to feel okay.

He wore a white button-down shirt and headed to the only place he knew he could find solitude- the club. If he was going to leave the city and head back to his mom and dad, he needed a good memory to go with him. He wore a decent ensemble for the night, it screamed I-got-fired-from-my-job-but-at-least-I-still-have-something-nice-to-wear.

He sat on one of the bar stools and ordered a glass of whiskey, on the rocks. He usually ordered one with coke but he didn’t need to wake up early in the morning anymore so he didn’t mind getting a little more knocked out that he usually would.

He took in the aroma of the drink as he sniffed it in a manner which showed just how much he missed the euphoric feeling of getting wasted. But he missed something else, too. Something that would make him feel even more relaxed than being dead drunk. Sex.

But he was a strong believer that sex should be sacred and it should only be done with feelings. Which is why ever since he broke up with his girlfriend two years ago, he never had the chance to do the deed, not that he thought about doing it with somebody, anybody at all.

He was about to go for his drink, bottoms up, when you blew on his ear. He looked at you with wide eyes, as if it was his first time seeing a woman. You looked classy with your red lipstick and a black dress with a plunging neckline which showed how gifted you were.

“A bottle of Tequila, please.” Your voice a mix of seductive and sweet.

Baekhyun’s eyes landed on your legs. You noticed him staring. You liked the fact that you were able to catch his attention. You’ve been looking at him, observing him, the whole time ever since he got inside the club. Then you took his glasses off.

“Seems like you had a rough day.” You put his glasses in his shirt’s pocket. “Lose the glasses. It ruins the look.” You said as you took the bottle of Tequila that the bar tender put in front of you.

“Who are you?” He finally asked out of curiosity.

You stood up and headed towards the VIP lounge. “If you really wanna know, follow me.”

You disappeared in the crowd as quickly as you appeared in front of Baekhyun. You were determined to get laid tonight, and you were thirsty for the new and innocent face.

Baekhyun put his glasses back on and gulped his drink. He left his payment under the glass and followed you to where you vanished. He knew something was going down tonight. And he was ready to take the bait. He had nothing to lose anyway.

You sat on the couch and poured two shots of Tequila. That’s how confident you were that Baekhyun was going to follow you. You crossed your legs and laid back to look as relaxed as possible when he comes barging in that door.

And you were right. There he was, standing right by the door frame, catching his breath. Trickles of sweat formed on his forehead and you couldn’t help but imagine how hotter he looked when he had even more sweat coming out from every pore of his body.

You stood up and walked towards him, arms crossed in front of your chest. You pulled him inside and shut the door closed. You escorted him to the couch and offered the drink that you poured earlier.

“Thanks.” He whispered under his breath before chugging down the two shots that were meant for the both of you. You liked where this was going.

“So, tell me your story.” You said as you sat down beside him, legs crossed, body facing towards him, making sure that he caught a sneak peak of your lace panties.

He swallowed the lump on his throat at the sight of what was in front of him at that moment. “Why should I?” He managed to ask with a slight tweak in his voice. He was tense.

“Because I can make you feel better.” You answered with a sinister smile plastered on your face.

He ignored you and kept on drinking shot after shot after shot. That’s when you knew that the saying ‘One Tequila. Two Tequila. Three Tequila. Floor.’ was a big motherfucking lie. This guy could go on forever.

He was already almost halfway the bottle, when he stood up and said that he needed to pee. You knew what would happen next. He’d leave the room and he’d never come back. It’s a style used by younger men who either had girlfriends they couldn’t cheat on or they just really wanted the drink.

In his case, you knew it was the latter. Besides, you knew that after seeing you, this wouldn’t be the last time that he stepped inside of this club.

“Alright.” You said with a hint of disappointment in your voice.

He took a step towards the door and looked at you before finally going out of the room.

You were frustrated. You’d been craving for him ever since the moment your eyes caught him coming inside of this place club.

You were about to leave and look for another man who’d be willing to have sex with you but you just didn’t have the energy. You wanted Baekhyun and him only.

You closed your eyes and leaned back after taking two consecutive shots of Tequila. Your thoughts are toying with you because you could only see him. You started to imagine that he was naked right in front of you.

Your imagination took you to another world. A world where Baekhyun was fucking the life out of you. A world where you reached your climax after climax after climax. You liked the thought of Baekhyun ramming your pussy while he was on top of you. The vivid view of his sweaty face drove you crazy and before you knew it, you were already starting to touch yourself. You played with yourself because your playmate left you. And that frustrated you even more.

You arched your back as your fingers grew tired of going in circles on your clit just to satisfy you. If Baekhyun wasn’t going to fuck you tonight, you still had to cum to redeem your pride.

And just like that, you’ve reached your climax. A sense of fulfillment doused over you as you let your hands fall to your sides while you catch your breath.

Three consecutive claps snapped you back to reality.

You sat up straight and saw Baekhyun leaning on the door, enjoying his view of the show that you just laid out for him before his eyes.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” You asked, embarrassed.

“One second I tell you I need to go to the bathroom, the next second, I find you playing with yourself.” He retorted, arrogance flaring from his eyes which you noticed turned completely from innocent to a fucking sex monster who was ready to devour you. He clicked his tongue. “You didn’t think I stood you up, did you?” He shook his head from side to side. “Is that what you think of me?” He stood up straight. “I just lost the glasses to fit your preferences.”

“I said what the fuck are you doing here?” You repeated, this time louder and stronger. You were embarrassed as fuck but he didn’t have to know that.

“What’s your name?” He suddenly asked.

You found the opportunity to turn things around for him and push him off from his cloud nine. “Y/N.” You answered calmly. You stood up and walked towards him. “The owner of this club and everybody who is inside. Including you. I own you.”

“I hate to be the one to tell you this, but you’re wrong.” He said looking down to you. It was only then that you realized how tall he was. “I am Byun Baekhyun, and I own you tonight.” He said with a smirk. “Kneel.”

His command set a fire inside of you. ‘Maybe he was turned on when he saw me’ you thought to yourself. Or maybe he was thinking of fucking you to begin with.

You followed and knelt in front of him unbuckling his belt all the while. You pulled his pants down and teased his clothed dick with kisses and light bites. You heard him groan. It sent shivers down your spine. Baekhyun has been radiating what they call ‘big dick energy’ the whole night and there you were kneeling in front of his manhood.

You pulled his underwear down and was astonished by the marvelous thing that was dangling from his crotch. It was so beautiful that you thought about marrying him for a second so you could have his dick all to yourself.

You started stroking it. Lightly at first, until it got a little bit rougher. You could see on his face that he wasn’t liking it. It kinda made you feel sad. This technique always worked on all the other guys you’ve fucked with.

His hand found its way at the back of your head. You thought it was a signal telling you to suck him. But his touch was light. He lifted you up slowly so you could stand. “You know why I wanted to know your name?” He didn’t wait for you to answer. “So I can manipulate you like this.” He lowered his lips to your ear and said something that you’ve heard so many times before but you were sure he said it the best. “Y/N, Blow me.”

His command made you even more wet. Your lace panties were starting to soak in your lady juices but you didn’t mind. You walked towards the couch again and laid down, your head dangling from the edge. Baekhyun knew what was going on. He followed you and knelt right in front of your face so your mouth was at the same level as his hard on dick.

You slowly teased him by licking the top of his head while still jacking him off. You wouldn’t normally lay down like this. But because Baekhyun’s cock was so big, you knew it’d destroy your throat if you tried to force it down there at a wrong angle.

You got his tip wet then sucked and licked his balls every once in a while, to get him in the mood. Sex was important, but you could never skip the roleplay.

When you felt like you were ready, you licked the shaft just to give it a bit of lubrication because you knew it was going to hurt. You slowly opened your mouth, wider and wider as more of his dick came inside. You slightly pull him closer by his ass signaling that he can go in deeper if he wanted to.

Tears flooded your eyes as you felt his last inch inside of your mouth. You wanted to stop because you couldn’t breathe but you saw that he was liking it, loving it even. You let him thrust his dick up and down your throat as he reached for the straps of your dress. You help him take them off to which he protested, “Just the straps. Don’t take off the dress.”

Baekhyun had a knack for ladies who wore sexy dresses while he fucked them. He found them to be more attractive. He took his dick out of your mouth after a few more pumps and helped you stand. You could feel a sore throat coming in the morning but that was the least of your concerns as of the moment.

He sat down and lifted your dress exposing your black, lace panties. “You thought these would go unnoticed? You used this to seduce me.” His statement made you blow out a huff of air. You would answer, but the truth is you can’t speak because your throat fucking hurt.

You didn’t expect much from him because he didn’t seem like the type to be rough. But the way he treated you at the moment said otherwise.

He leaned on the backrest of the couch and held his arms out straight in front of him. He gave you a nod. You didn’t know what he meant by that. “It’s not fair to eat me when I can’t eat you.” He said in the sexiest manner.

You sat on his arms, making sure your feet were dangling from the back of the couch just so he wouldn’t bear all of your weight. Your hands were on the table behind you so to help with your steadiness. Your pussy was right in front of his beautiful fucking face. At that moment, you were confused. You didn’t know how the hell would he be able to lick your clothed cunt.

He slowly moved his face closer and used his tongue to push your panty to the side. You mentally thanked who the hell ever invented the g-string because it moved swiftly aside. The next moments sent you skyrocketing to cloud nine. It was like his tongue was specially made for your clit. The way it moved around it, the speed was perfect, and most of all, the pressure when he tongue fucked you was more than enough to send your hips going in circles.

Baekhyun was an expert in this. He perfectly knew what he was doing. He knew how to do you right. You couldn’t wait any longer. You set yourself down and took your panties off in front of him putting it inside his shirts pocket where his glasses used to be.

You made sure your pussy was ready for the coming pain and pleasure before you carefully sat on his huge dick. Your walls closed in on the skin of his manhood while you move in deeper. You could feel your insides filling with lady juices just by the mere insertion of Baekhyun’s big cock inside of your super wet cunt.

You started bouncing up and down on his dick while your hands were entangled in his hair. “Are you really this tight or is my dick really just big?” He asked arrogantly which made you want to make him cum for you more.

He was sucking on your left nipple, circling his tongue when needed, while his left hand was fiddling with your right boob. His right hand was supporting your back and spanking your ass whenever he feels like it.

If there was one thing which was sure to keep him as horny as he was, it was to tell him he can cum inside you. But you weren’t going to tell him straight to his face like that. It was boring. Baekhyun wasn’t boring. In fact, he’s the closest thing to heaven.

You unbuttoned his shirt one by one, planting kisses on his neck in the process. When his shirt was completely undone, you planted a kiss on his lips. He smiled. He liked it. You went in for another one, this time a sloppier version. Your tongue danced with his inside his mouth. You’d occasionally suck his tongue like the way you sucked his dick and he’d bite your lower lip to the point where it almost bled.

You bounced. You grinded. You bounced and then you grinded again. Whenever you would cum, you’d add a mark on his back. Your nails were long enough to pierce his skin lightly, just enough to tell anyone who’d see it that he had a good time with you.

Baekhyun met every thrust halfway which made you even more ecstatic. The euphoria sent you to another dimension. Your moans drowned the loud music outside. And you had proved your imagination right. Baekhyun was way hotter when he was sweating more.

“Y/N.” He managed to say in between moans and groans.

“Yes, sweetie?” You asked in between hard and deep breaths. You were growing tired but you weren’t going to stop.

“I got fired.” He answered.

You knew. Because his boss was a regular at your club. And yesterday, you overheard him talking about firing a ‘nerd’ today. His descriptions exactly pointed to Baekhyun when you saw him tonight. You didn’t have the slightest care about whoever it was he was going to fire. But when you saw him earlier, everything changed.

You didn’t answer. But you knew you had to hold him in any way possible. If he was this good at what he does, he needed to get paid. You thought about making an offer.

“I will give you everything if you fuck me whenever I want you to.” You bargained.

He smirked. “Whenever you want me to? Honey, I could fuck you everyday.” He answered.

His thrust meeting yours went deeper and harder and you felt your g-spot being rammed. It was driving you crazy. It didn’t take long for you to reach your climax.

“Baekhyun!” You exclaimed while you thrusted deeper and faster.

“Y/N. I’m cumming, Y/N!” He shouted.

This was the moment. You knew he wanted to push you away so he wouldn’t cum inside of you. But that was one thing to keep him coming back for more.

You both thrusted faster, harder, and deeper. You wrapped your hands around his neck and exclaimed “Cum inside me, baby! Let’s cum together!”

You felt his jizz shoot inside of you and you felt limp. That was by far your best sex experience. You let yourself crash onto him for a couple of minutes. His hands were on his sides, as is telling you that you drained all of his energy.

You snapped back to reality. You knew he needed a reward for being such a great partner. You stood up and walked over to your bag, took an envelope with a shitload of money in it, and placed it on his chest. “Like I said,” You fixed your dress and your lipstick. “I will give you everything.” You grabbed your bag and walked to the door. “I’m on birth control. See you again tomorrow, sugar.” You said and left.