#Not quite a saint not quite the sinner just in between

[pixel-star]

[grugruel]

Saint, or Sinner.

Parings: Arthur Morgan x f!reader

MDNI/NSFW

Masterlist

Summary: You've had feelings for Arthur for quite some time now, but little did you know. That he has them for you, too.

After a rowdy night in Valentine, the group flees lawmen and end up in Strawberrys hotel. Whatever will occur?

Word count: 8.9 k

Warnings: Micha being Micah, bar fight/violence, plot with smut, mutual pining, soft Arthur, pinv sex, passionate sex, oral sex (f recieving), praise, pet names (girl, sweetheart), choking, fingering, handjob, creampie, mentioned masturbation.

AN: The words ran away from me, holy shit. It's so much longer than I intended.

Muffled voices argued in the night, soon growing into angry shouts. Rousing me from my sleep, confused, I put my gown on in a hurry. Sleep ridden eyes in a dark tent were not doing me any favors. I pulled the flap to the side and stumbled out of the tent, the voices creating one hell of a commotion.

Just as I did, most of the camp had awoken and joined in on the argument, gladly contributing their own heated opinions on the matter. All except Duch and Arthur, much to my dismay.

My eyes adjusted to the scene before me, the assailants quickly becoming clear. Standing around the campfire, was Micah of course, the center of attention as usual. Stood half shouting at John, who's pot seemed to be boiling over.

Soon after, John unleashed a rant on Micahs stupitidy, throwing in every word he could manage in his steaming anger.

I rolled my eyes, what could that damned fool possibly have done now?

'You piss ridden, moldy rat bastard.' John shouts, seamingly leaving Micah lost for words.

Bill bursts out laughing, slapping his knee at the insult, 'You big fuckin nuthead Micah. . .' He sighs, catching his breath.

Even Hosea snickers, 'Hes right, and that's coming from Bill of all folk.'

I cover my mouth as a giggle leaves my lips, seeing Micah so dumbfounded really sobered my mood. The rest of the girls have a simular reaction.

Micahs eyes narrow on me, 'What are ya' laughing at sweetheart. I ought to teach ya' a lesson.' He snarls, greasy hair hanging over his face.

The camp falls silent, none too appreciative of his choice of words. My mood turn sour again and a chill runs up my spine. The first to call him out was Sadie, 'Someone hold me back.' She spits, Sean stepping in to fo judt that.

Second was Miss Grimshaw, 'The money and now you threathen the girl, have you gone and lost your mind Micah Bell?' disgust evident on her face.

The money? What money?

John took a threatening step toward him, very displeased with Micahs comment, hands forming into fists at his sides. Hosea too, gave him a a bemused look.

'Try anything Bell, and I'll cut your fucking balls off.' I spit, glaring at him, feeling incredible joy in the way his face falls.

Muffled chuckles surround me, 'Thats my Girl.' Sadie laughs, along with a low, approving whistle from Javier.

'Whats goin' on here?' A gruff voice cuts in, looking between me and Micah.

Arthur, flanked by Dutch.

Arthur, shirtless. Flanked by Dutch.

In all my anger, my eyes cant help but sneak a hasty glance at his broad chest. Then quickly averting it, afraid he'd notice. I clear my throat, trying to keep my thoughts in check, 'He threatened me.'

That was enough for Arthur, not doubting me for a second. Fixed himself straight up with murder in his eyes, then walked at the man, readying his fists for a beating.

Butterflies fluttered within me.

Unsurprisingly, Micah cowered. Taking quick cautionary steps backward before Dutch could jump in, throwing his arm in front of Arthur and stopping him in his tracks. John looks at the two men, directing an accusing finger on Micah, 'Not only that, this blasted idiot took our money.'

The moment of joy from Micahs humiliation disappear, turning into anger once again. The camp giving him a mutual glower.

Arthur runs a hand through his hair, 'I ought to kill you.' He speaks, gritting his teeth, and takes another firm step forward. Pushing the limits of Dutch's patience, who strengthens the hold on Arthur.

'Surely, there must be a reasonable explanation for this?' Dutchs says, forcing a smile and shooting Micah an expectant look. Giving him an undeserved chance at explaining himself. Although he didn't show it, he too, was bemused.

'Well- I wanted to invest it, make it grow. I just wanted to help the camp.' Micah preached, his voice sleazy and confident. Telling the sure as shit, bull of an excuse as if he was the one to feel sorry for. Despite the circumstances.

Sighing, 'He god damned gamled it all away.' John reveals, looking ready to kill the man himself. The camp erupts into a loud argument once again, everyone getting a piece in.

I sneak a glance at Arthur, his chest rising and falling in big breaths, trying his hardest to stay calm. 'Bastard.' He mutters under his breath, Dutch giving him a quick warning glance.

'Shut!–' a hoarse voice calls out, '–Up!' Dutch yells, and obediently, we all fall silent. 'Theres no use, standin' around screamin'. You fools are attracting unwanted attention.' Dutch says, hands on his hips, 'Who won the funds.'

'Some rich bastard up in Strawberry.' Micahs sly voice cut through the night.

Dutch rubs his forehead in thought, 'Then he can do without it, go back there and grab it.' An exasperated sigh leaving him, 'Arthur, John, Bill, Charles.' He rounds the men up, 'You go there with him.' He turns to go back to his tent, but pauses and shouts, 'And no!–' dragging the words out, '–Deaths!' He looks at Micah, knowing damn well he'd otherwise murder the mans entire family in cold blood, then points to Arthur, 'That means you too, Arthur.' He says, a tired tone to his words. Clearly insinuating that he wanted Micah alive.

Everyone scatters, going back to bed on edge. But I linger, tucked away behind the tentflap. I watch Arthur come back out of his tent, in full get up. Silently praying that'd they'd be alright, that he would be. I did not care what happened to Micah, I hoped the man would get shot right between the eyes. I would personally love to see to it, I hoped Arthurs hatred for the man would get the better of him. Dutch always went way to easy on Micah, I didn't understand it, but something wasn't quite right with it.

Abigail kisses John goodbye, it made me happy to see them back together and all made up. I watch Arthur leave his tent in full get up, then stride past my tent. He gets on his horse with the rest of them, and ride past the treeline of Horseshoe overlook. No doubt berating Micah all the way to Strawberry.

I laid down in my bed, trying my damndest to sleep. But worry was keeping me up, eating away at me. Something didn't feel right.

He'd heard his words to her, him threatening her. Horrifying images cloud his mind, filling him with rage all over again. No doubt things he'd done before. He glanced a glare at the man, ugly mut.

Had Dutch not been there to stop him, Micah would've found his face beaten bloody and Arthur grinning on top of him. Had he not been loyal to the camp, to his people, to Dutch. Micah wouldn't be returning from this trip. He would conveniently get a bullet to his head, or found on the bottom of a valley, beaten unrecognizable before the fall had caused the killing blow.

He didnt want any harm coming to her. He'd never felt this for a woman, not ever. He'd steal glances, admire her when she wasn't looking. Damn well kill for her. She was the light he had needed for so long, her charming smile could shine brighter than any star he'd ever seen.

'You taken a likin' to her, Morgan?'

John raised his head at that, paying closer attention to the conversation, to Arthur. Knowing the possibility of him flying off the handle.

'Shut up if you know what's good for you Micah.' Charles scolded.

He scoffed, 'The day I listen to–' Micha looks Charles up and down, lingering on the color of his skin, 'The likes of you,' he continues, 'Will be my last.' Muttering the last words.

Ignoring him, Charles didn't do as much as raise an eyebrow. Micah did not deserve a reaction.

Micah was black rot, down to his core. Destorying everything he touched. We all knew it, but all aren't so keen to admit it. Dutch was the first person to come to mind, I couldn't understand for the life of me why he was so defensive of the man.

'I can see why.' Micah spoke again, 'Pretty little thing, isn't she?' He looked at Arthur, 'Got a big mouth on her too.'

John looked between the two men, noting the way Arthur fisted his reins, no doubt knuckles turning white under his gloves. Along with the way he kept his head straight ahead, focused on not killing the man, 'Micah, keep her off your tongue.' John warned, 'I don't care for you, but I don't want the heat from Dutch when you're found dead.' His raspy voice referring to him and Arthur.

Charles looked at the men in silent agreement, he preferred staying out of camp conflicts. But she was a woman dear to the camp, touching her would bode ill for any man.

And ad usual, the big idiot doesn't listen, 'Wouldn't mind takin' her for a ride one of these nights.' He said, the self-righteous smile he bore evident even in his tone. There was no need to look at him to know it.

Bill had been staying out of it, but he could feel the anger radiating off of Arthur. Enough to switch sides, hanging back, then stearing his horse up next to Arthur instead of Micah. Just in case a bullet would come flying.

And wouldn't you know it, Arthur reached into his holster and pulled his finest revolver, aiming it at the sorry excuse of a man. All in one quick motion, he'd been labeled as a dangerous for a reason. John sighed, now he'd done it.

Micah, dropped his reins. Raising his hands in the air, keeping a smug expression on his face. But beneath, he was scared witless.

'Strawberry up ahead.' Charles called, not caring much for the action behind him. Killing Micah would only do the camp good, but a gunshot would give their location away.

'Not another word of her.' Arthur began, 'Touch 'er–' He warns, 'And I'll let her kill ya'.' His voice gravelly and threatening, but Micah scoffed at the notion.

The familiar click off a safety lever sounds out, and the color drains from Micahs face.

'House is just up ahead.' Charles cut in, 'I'd suggest you wait wait with this til we got the funds.'

With a final glare, he holsters his gun and rides up to Charles. Clearing a hill, the house comes into view. Arthur sighs, 'Damn it Micah, you didnt tell us this feller had security.'

'You scared of a little fightin' pretty boy?' Micah mocked.

With a scoff from Arthur, they hitch their horses and pull up their bandanas, setting about proving the rumors of the infamouse Van Der Linde gang.

I anxiously checked my father's old pocket watch. It had been a few hours now. I put it down, tried to think of other things, and then picked it up again. Another 5 minutes had passed. Christ. I couldn't bear losing Arthur, John or Charles, god forbid all three of them. Bill could be sweet, but only when he needed something. I couldn't even dare imagine John leaving Abigail and Jack behind. What would they do? Stay with the gang, of course, but. . . Goodness, what about Arthur? My thoughts were racing ahead of me.

A few more minutes pass, then I hear hoofbeats, relief flods through me. It's hard to count, but theres at least three horses. God, let it be the right three. I emerge from my tent, along with Miss Grimshaw, Abigail, the rest of the girls, and Dutch. I race up to Abigail, holding eachothers hands as we watch the treeline in silence. Relying on each other for support.

Eventually, they break through. All five horses returning with their men on top of them, secretly I curse. One of the could've gotten lost and the world would've been a better place for it. I stroke Abigails back while John sees to his horse, then walks up to us, taking her in his arms and spinning her in a circle. They laugh, and a tinge of jealousy spark inside me. Yet I'm more than happy for them.

I observe the rest of them, they seem to be unharmed. All except. . . Arthur, his white shirt covered in blood. The terror must've been evident on my face, because–

'Hes fine.' John spoke, 'Most of it aint even his.' He said in an effort to calm me.

I nodded, smiling faintly 'Thank you John.' And sqeezed his arm.

'Well–' Dutch called out, 'How'd it go?' He looked at them, expecting nothing but grandeur.

'We got more than we bargained for. . ' John said, grinning. But there was something else his tone.

Bill unloaded his horse and came carrying several saddlebags, throwing them at our feet, money spilling out 'We got what we came for—' He paused, then pulled out two more bags from vehind his back, 'And more!' He burst out in a self-satisfied laugh.

I had to say, they made the best out of a bad situation. And on top of it all, Micah had barely made a sound, he was strangely quiet.

Dutch patted Bill and John on the back, 'Good work, wake the rest. Let us celebrate!' He clapped his hands together, no doubt imagining Tahiti.

I searched for him in the crowd of people as the camp was waking up, and found him talking to Charles and Sadie at the edge of the camp, clutching his side. Worry gnawed at me. They joined us by the campfire while Arthur headed into his tent, not saying much of nothing to anyone else.

The festivities carried out throughout the night, Arthurs lamp remained turned on. Eventually, I just had to check up on him.

I snuck away from the folk, Abigail and John had already turned in, as had Dutch and Molly. Seemed like the singles were the only ones left drinking, and Micah had disappeared to sulk somewhere. Lucky us.

I left them to it and approached his tent, 'Arthur?' I called, but didn't get an answer. I just heard some huffing from the inside.

I risked his reaction and pulled the flap to the side, 'Arth-' I began, but got cut off by the sight. In front of me was Arthur Morgan, shirt pushed up over his stumache, cowboy hat on, stitching up his own wound. Sitting on a stool, his pants were unbuttoned and folded down by the hip, revealing that beautiful "V" shape along with a happy trail of hair leading down toward, well. . . A new cut stretched from his hip to his abdomen, blood covered his hands and side, groaning as he pulled a needle through his skin. Something set off inside me, a yearning that made my body ache. He scarcely even noticed me, not until I gasped.

He looked up, eyes widening, 'You need somethin' Girl?' He blurted out, taken off guard. His state of undress did not help.

'Arthur Morgan. . .' I sighed, slightly offended, 'You shouldve fetched me, you know im good at stitchin' wounds.'

'I know, I know. 'm sorry sweetheart.' smiling faintly, 'Didnt wanna bother you.' He drawled.

I also noticed a mostly empty bottle of whiskey next to him, hoping he used most of it to disinfect the wound. I put my hands on my hips, 'Will you let me help?'

He nodded and handed me the needle, fingers brushing against eachother as I grabbed it.

Our eyes met, briefly. Sharing a glance that was ment to be stolen.

He leaned back against his dresser, the muscle of his upper body changing and rippling with his movements.

I cleared my throat and stepped closer, 'May I?' I asked, pointing at his shirt.

'You may.' He smirked.

I leaned closer to him, unbuttoning from top to bottom. Then pushing the shirt over his shoulder so it'd stay clear from his wound. I kneeled in front of him, his legs spread so I could get closer to the cut, then resting my elbows on his strong thigh to steady my arms.

I tried to focus on the wound, but it proved hard as I was so close to his crotch and how closely he was observing me.

'Might I ask what happened?' I bit my lip in focus, threading the needle through his skin.

'More men than expected.' He answered with a grunt, looking at my lips. Blood rushing somewhere it ought not to, 'One jumped out on me.' He continued, his voice husky and strained.

'He live to tell the tale?' I asked, searching his gaze. Hoping he'd be sincere.

'He did. . .' He groaned, as I finished another stitch. Making the aching settle in my core, a pulse running through me. Every now and then, when I believed him not to be looking. My eyes roamed his chest, studying his strong pecks and biceps.

'You know anything about Micahs sudden tongue-tie?' I ask, locking eyes with him. He lowers his head with a chuckle, a smirk poking out from under his hat.

'I might've. . . Given him something to think about.' He shrugs, the corner of his lip tugging.

Sighing, a smile spreads over my lips 'Youre a good man, Arthur Morgan.' I told him earnestly, 'Better than most.' I finished the last stitch and looked at him, 'All d-' I began, but he cut me off.

His lips greeting mine in a passionate kiss, lasting a whole second. But it was the best second I'd had in years. He pulled back, a horrified look on his face. Immidietly regretting it.

Surprised, I did not quite know what to say. 'Arthur, Im- You- You're drunk. .' I blurted, thinking it was the alcohol taking action. Nothing else.

'I'm–' He looked at me, searching for words 'You're right, I- I probably am. Apologies miss.' He managed.

I cursed myself, why'd he have to be drunk? He'd never remember that this even happened tomorrow.

'No- no. That's fine, don't worry. I didnt-' I tried, I didn't mind it. In fact I loved it, is that so hard to say? 'I should, uhm- let you sleep, you need to rest.' Idiot.

'I s'pouse so.' Was all he said, shock and regret still lingering between us.

'Well, good night. . . Mr Morgan.' I said, and he winced. Quickly, I took my leave.

'Night ma'am.' He called after me.

It felt like fleeing the scene of a crime. Bashing myself for the the formal good night, we were way past such pleasantires. It felt like a blow to even utter the words, even though I usually call him Mr Morgan. But it's always in a teasing way. Never formal and distant like this was.

Goodness gracious, what had I done?

I tucked myself under the covers in my own tent, thoughts circling my mind. I could not tear myself away from the smell of him, his musk, his broad build. Or the way sweetheart sounded as it rolled of his tongue, the way his tongue felt against my own. A hand snaked between my thighs, relieving myself of the ache he'd caused. Then slowly, I drifted off to sleep. With nothing but him on my mind.

You god damned fool Arthur, why'd you have scare her away? Old bastard, he thought to himself. Seeing her by his tent had startled him, but her gentle touch and sweet voice was all the comfort he'd needed. It took the sting right out of the needle. He'd used the bottle to clean the wound, but letting her think he was drunk was easier than the truth.

He'd took a liking to her from the moment he laid eyes on her, but she would never feel the same way. She'd called him Mr Morgan, as if the last year of building a relation with her had disintigrated within a second. It stung, real bad. Worse than a knife ever would. Yet that kiss made it all worth it her soft lips against his, her sweet taste. Feeling her breath on his skin as she undid his buttons, and seein' you like that? Kneeling between his legs, so close to him. It was a memory he would cherish through thick and thin, a memory that would keep him up at night. A memory that made him hard in an instant, he let out a frustrated groan. Silenty taking care of it, pretty images of her occupying his mind as he did. Finally, he began drifting off to sleep. And he only had one thing on his mind. She'd called him a good man, that's all that mattered to him.

A week passed, and we'd had a few shallow interactions. Nothing serious, but resembling the akwardness we experienced in his tent, it made my heart sore. I always found a reason to talk to him, to be near him. So when to opportunity arrived once again, I jumped on it. We'd had a full day of chores, but needed to head into Valentine for a supply run, to stock up on things like ammo and vegetables. And just generally take a look around town, see what else we could find. But I don't have a horse of my own, and since Lenny and Sean were taking the wagon.

I found myself in need of a ride.

The sun had begun its final stretch before setting, meaning the light was golden and beautiful. The warm spring air was gradually turning chilly, but in the most soothing way. I joined the crew by the horses, 'Who's willin' to give a lady a ride.' I asked coyly.

Arthurs mouth fell open, as if he was about to speak, but quickly closed it again. 'I always got space for you, girl.' Sadie winked.

'Stop that. . You ol' charmer.' I smile shyly. Arthur couldn't help but smile, nothing but admiration I'm his eyes for you.

'Well-' Micah began, and I immediately rolled my eyes. Arthur glaring daggers at him.

'Shut it, and shave that overgrown squirell off your face.' Sadie interrupted him, Sean erupting into laughter at the comment.

'Why are we even bringin' him? We don't need that kind of trouble today.' I pointed out.

'Cause I say so, sweetheart.' He leers, smugness radiating off of him.

My stumache churns, my dinner almost catching its second wind, 'Dont call me that.' I turn serious.

Micah laughs, about to respond-

'You heard her.' Arthur stops him, making him reconsider opening his mouth again. Instead he opts to mutter under his breath, no doubt the most vile and cruel things too.

John joins us to help get the wagon in order, then sen dus off. Changing the subject back, 'Arthur got the most space.' John points out, 'I'm sure he wouldn't mind.' He winks at me subtly, and I blush. John Marston, you godsend.

'That okay with you Arthur?' I ask, looking up at him with big eyes.

'Course, c'mon sweetheart.' He jumps out of the saddle, grabs me by the waist, and helps me onto his tall, dark shire.

I yelp, unprepared for his strength. He gets back on, placing himself behind me, then grabs the reins on either side of me, capturing me in his big frame. I can honestly say, that I've never felt safer. A content smile covers my lips.

Sadie chuckles at the two of us, the chuckle turning into pure laughter when she sees Micahs expression. Gritted teeth and narrowed eyes, glaring at us, probably furious by my blatant approval of Arthurs use of sweetheart.

And with that, we begin our journey into town. Lenny and Sean were singing behind us, Sadie leading the way ahead of us. And Micah? I didn't bother finding out where he was.

Feeling Arthurs warmth behind me was all I cared about, his chest and thighs rubbing up against me with every step of his horse. It was doing something to me.

As the sun dove deeper, the cool in the air grew. Involuntary shivers took ahold of my body, 'You cold, girl?' He asked.

I shook my head, 'No, I'll be fine. Thank you though, Arthur.' My voice hackig as a particularly violent shiver shook my body, making my teeth clattered against eachother.

'Dont you lie to me, you're freezin'.' He says, worry lacing his tone, 'Take the reins.' That was an order.

I did and his hands slid between us, unbuttoning his jacket. Knuckles brushing against my back, all the way along my spine, ending at the arch of my back. Sending shivers in waves all over my body. 'Scooch down.' He orders again. Slightly hesitant, I slide backward. My ass tucked neatly again his crotch and my back flush again his chest. With his jacket still on, he wraps it around my sides, nearly covering my entire upper body. Sharing eachothers heat, trapping it between us.

'Arthur. .' I breathe, lust coursing through me. But it must've sounded as a protest because-

'-Dont start.' He said, 'My jacket is big enough for the both of us. Now hand me the reins, darlin.'

Oh you wonderful, oblivious man.

I gave them back to him and tugged his jacket closer around me, leaning impossibly closer to him. Gradually, my shivers disappeared, all thanks to the large, warm bear of a man behind me.

'See? Told ya'.' His body shook gently with a silent chuckle.

'You're somethin' else Mr Morgan.' I sighed and this time, the words felt right.

He smiled, she didnt see it, thankfully. Everything she did, made him smile. She was so close to him, and he had indirectly caressed her back. He could've leaned back and given her space, but he craved her. It was intimate and special. He'd not felt so peaceful since she stitched him up last week. Everything he did was at her service. Now she sat between his legs, grinding up against him. Not to her knowledge though, she just moved her hips to the step of the horse, riding like a woman should. But unbeknownst to her, she was feeding a hunger he fought hard to contain. Head in the lions mouth and all.

'Whats on that mind of yours Arthur?' She asked, 'I can feel you thinkin' from 'ere.' Shuddering against him, is she still cold?

If she only knew, what was goin' through his mind. How he thought of you every waking moment, a sentiment she would never return.

'Nothin' special, you still feelin' cold? I can feel you shiverin' Girl.'

She froze for a second before she spoke, chuckling under her breath, 'No I ain't cold, but thank you again.' He could hear the smile on her lips.

What was it then?

'Is the cut heelin' good?' She asked, concern and something else lingering in her voice. The memory resurfaced in his mind, his blood setting about rushing places. He shut his eyes, trying to clean his mind before he answered. Clearing his throat first, 'Good, 'is gonna be a nice 'n clean scar.' His voice lightly strained.

'Well, I'm glad. You got enough of em' for my liking.' She huffed, annoyed at the notion of him always hurting himself.

He risked it, and leaned his head forward, almost touching her shoulder but not quite. Breathing in that sweet scent of hers. Telling himself that it wasn't such a strange thing to do. 'I'll survive, I always do. With your fine stitchin' It's impossibly not to.'

She blushed, turning her face away from his, a bit shy at his compliment. He loved the way her cheeks turned rosy, 'Thank you.' She said proudly, another shudder against him.

Damn it, wad she still cold or not?

He opted out of asking again. She'd just tell him no. So he took matters into his own hands, quite literally. He moved the reins into one hand and circled the other around her waist, pulling her closer. Figuring he could blame it on rough terrain, that he didn't want her to hurt her pretty self.

But she didn't protest, on the contrary. She made a sound, almost like she exhaled a moan under her breath. Then grabbed his thigh, rough terrain too, perhaps? 'Arthur. . .' She breathed.

'I apologise miss, I shouldn't ha–' He began.

'No, no. You should've.' Firm in her words. 'You, remember much from last week?' She asked.

'I do.' He breathed, a nervous shake to his voice.

'You werent drunk?'

'No ma'am.' He answered truthfully, 'I lied.'

'Why?' There was hurt in her voice, and something broke inside of him.

He hesitated, choosing his words carefully, afraid he'd hurt her more, 'Thought maybe it'd be best, since I stepped over a line.'

She scoffed, 'You didn't step over anything, Mr Morgan.'

'Well I. . .' He paused, 'You didnt seem to like it, thats all. Didnt want you to think I was takin' advantages.' He rambled an explanation.

'I didn't want to take advantage of you Mr Morgan.' She sounded annoyed, annoyed by this whole missunderstanding, 'Didnt want you kissin' me drunk, if it was, just cause you were drunk.' She explained, 'I thought you were drunk. . .' sighing.

Puzzle pieces were finally falling into place for the both of them.

'We're here!' Sadie called from the front.

Dissapointed, I sighed. Yet, relieved, I smiled.

Arthur jumped off, grabbed my waist and helped me down. His touch lingering as our eyes met, searching eachothers gazes for answers. Wondering, where to go from here. We were finally on the same page, and knowing he kissed me from his own free will put a sping in my step.

The group broke up, I headed with Sadie as the men got about their business. We looked at the guns first and foremost, then headed for the general store. I looked for Arthur as we walked from building to building, and saw him heading into the stables. I wondered if he was gonna treat himself to a new saddle. He deserved it.

We went about our list of things to buy, then gathered by the wagon. Collectively, we decided on a bar run before we rode back to camp. Lenny and Sean were particularly excited about the idea.

We ordered whiskey, drank and laughed. Sadie and Lenny stood between me and Arthur, resulting in a whole lot of meaningful glances. Just wishing we could talk some more.

At some point a woman had approached Arthur, laying her hand on his bicep, clearly flirting. And my blood ran cold.

I stood talking with Sean, who noticed my change in demeanour and looked over at them. 'Dont worry yourself girl.' He laughed, and I furrowed my brows. Not sure what he ment.

'You gonna buy a lady a drink?' The woman asked, her voice sultry. Now, my blood boiled.

Arthur chuckeled, 'I didnt know I was talking to a lady.' And glanced at her hand, which she immediately retracted upon noticing.

She scoffed, 'Aint that a nice way to treat a woman. You taken cowboy?' She asked, her eyes narrowing on him.

'Well. . .' He huffed, 'You could say that.'

My heart swelled at his comment.

'Told ye so.' Sean smirked, and I playfully hit him on the shoulder.

The night went on, and as most nights go in a saloon, a fight was bound to happen. Arthur must've been watching me, because within the next half minute. A man had walked up next to me, and was about to touch what wasnt his to touch. But Arthur appeared out of nowhere, his outlaw instics mustve been on high alert. The man did in fact look sleezy enough to attempt such a thing, Arthur grabbed the mans wrist in a bone breaking grib. 'You keep your hands to yourself mister.' He said, his voice low and threatening.

'Or what?' The man spit, and Arthur let go of him. Lowering his head, chuckling. That shouldve been the mans warning, but he didn't know Arthur like we did.

Backing me up, Sean whispered 'Get ready.' to Sadie, Lenny and me. Nodding to a table of thugs in the corner, they were staring at our group intently, watching the scene unfold.

Arthur jerked his head to the side and smirked under his hat, then in flash he gave the man a lethal right hook. Sending him flying backward. The thugs sprung up, heading for us with firm steps.

Holy shit. A full on brawl broke out, everyone lunged themselves on everyone. I delivered a right hook of my own as two guys were ganging up on Lenny. Another man tried getting handsy with me, he snuck up behind me and grabbed me around the waist. So I elbowed him hard in the side and threw my head back. Headbutting him, I turned around and pushed him off me. Taking great joy in the way his nose was gushing blood, I grabbed him by the shoulders and kneed him in the crotch. With a whine, the man fell to the ground.

Even Micah joined in on the action, he'd been sitting still enjoying his whiskey beside us. Until he decided he wanted some fun too, apparently only he could be inappropriate with me. He smashed the glass over the head on the closest man, although im pretty sure he wasn't even apart of the brawl.

As the dust was settling and the lawmen had been called, we flew the coup. Arthur grabbed my hand and rushed us to our horses, not willing to risk leading the law back to camp, we rode hard and fast for Strawberry. Arthur was making a fuss about me on the ride there, asking if I was ok, and I assured him I was. 'Well. . . You got one hell of a hook girl.' He said, and I beamed with pride.

The gang had to act casual as we arrived to Strawberry, which proved futile with cuts and bruises as we asked for hotel rooms. But we ended up conning our way into possession of the last three hotel rooms. Bribing the clerk that is.

Arthur grabbed a key of his own, which nobody disputed. He gave me a meaningful look at and headed upstairs. Sadie grabbed a key and dragged me along with her. Leaving the last three men to argue about sharing a room, 'Shut up Micah, you're sleeping in the hall.' Sean shouted behind us. Turning around, I saw Micah slamming the doors open and storming out.

'I'll find a woman to warm me, dont ya' worry.' He shouted back, muttering under his breath.

We burst out laughing and ran to our room, but before we headed in, I grabbed her arm 'I'm just gonna go check on Arthur real quick.' I said, not thinking much of it.

'I'll not see you til the morning then.' She laughed, our stolen glances had apparently not been so stolen after all.

I rolled my eyes, 'We'll see.' And knocked on his door.

Lenny and Sean walked by, a low whistle accompanied by chuckles as they saw me standing there. But they quickly turned quiet when Arthur opened the door, standing in only his shirt and pants 'May I come in?' I asked, giving him my best puppy eyes.

'Course.' He smirked, and opened the door wider, stepping out of my way. My side brushing against him as I entered. His vest and jacket lay discarded on the bed, along with his hat.

'About before-' I began, my back turned to him. Suddenly feeling his hands slide onto my waist, pulling me into him. I gasped, not expecting it. He leaned into my shoulder, lips gracing my neck, all the way up to my ear. The warmth of his breath fanning over my skin, making me boil on the inside. It made it difficult to think.

'I want you darlin', all of ya'.' He whisperes, 'If you'll have me–' pausing to place a gentle kiss between my ear and jaw, '–'M tired off missunderstandin's.'

In a haze, I turn around and lay my hands on his chest, having to crane my neck upward to meet his eyes. I reach one hand to caress his cheek, brushing at his stubble 'So am I.'

He leans into my delicate touch, nuzzling my hand and placing a soft peck on my palm.

One of his hands sinks its fingertips into the flesh at my hip as the other grabs my arm softly, sliding his hand up to my wrist, gently holding it as he places another kiss there, right on my pulse point. His lips linger, feeling my rapid heartbeat. Gently, he experiments. Sucking and pecking the spot.

A deep ache settles in my bones, fortifying with every kiss he places, deepening with every beat of my heart. And for a second, he feels it too. Meeting my eyes with a smirk, he pulls my sleeve up to cover more ground. Immidietly I feel that my clothes are weighing me down, 'Arthur.' I whisper.

'Hmm?' He hums, focused on kissing what skin he has access to.

Clearing my throat, 'Will you–' I breathe, 'Help me unbutton?'

His eyes meet mine again, searching my gaze for certainty. 'I'll spend the rest of my days doin' your biddin' if it makes you happy girl.'

'It would–' I say, and his hands move to my ribcage, pulling me into his frame. His face an inch from mine as his hands snake around my back, making quick work of each button without batting an eye. 'Oh—' I gasp, surprised by his practiced fingers. 'Should I be jealous?' I ask under my breath.

'No ma'am, none could compete with you.' He assures me.

I feel a blush creep up my cheeks, and in the same moment, he finishes with the last button. Stroking his knuckles over the bare skin along my spine, and sighs. Content. As a shuddering breath leaves me.

Arthur wonders for but a second if shes cold again, until he realises.

'You werent cold, were ya'?'

Immedietly getting what hes reffering to, 'In the begginin' I was.' I tell him truthfully, 'Youre wonderfully clueless sometimes, especially for such a experienced man.'

He chuckles, 'You tellin' me you were all hot 'n bothered for me?'

'You were rubbin' against me, pullin' me close. How could I not be?'

'I wasnt–' He protests, '–You were on me if anythin'.'

'Oh so youre tellin' me you were all hot 'n bothered then?' I throw his words back at him, smirking happily while doing it.

Arthurs mouth opens and closes, unable to think of a comeback.

'Thats what I thought.'

He scoffs a smile, pushing my blouse off of me, leaving me in my undergarments.

His hands move to my arms, sliding upwards, leaving prickled skin in their abscence. He trails them over my collarbones and neck, his eyes following every inch of movement.

I lay my hands on his hips, holding onto him as my knees grow weeker by the second.

Forming his hands into loose fists, he caresses my cheeks with the backs if his fingers. Gently brushing the knuckles over my cheekbones, pushing strands of hair from my face in the same motion. He flattens his hands and cup my face, big hands draping around the sides of my head. Pulling me closer, he leans into my space. Meeting in the middle, his lips ghost over mine.

My breath hitches when he kisses me softly, his thumbs stroking my temples in soothing motions.

I grab onto his shirt, fisting and lightly pulling on the fabric. Arousal taking the reins completley, making it hard to think. I look at him with hazy eyes, admiration clouding every sense I have. '. . 'S your turn mister.' I breathe.

Smiling, he continues kissing me, 'At your pleasure ma'am.'

With a pleased hum, I trace my hands up his abdomen and over his chest, and Arthur groans in response. The aching pulse in my body stiffens at the sound, becoming more compressed. More focused in my core. Kissing him, I easily unbutton his shirt, making quick work of it, and slide it over his shoulders. Now hooked on his arm folds, it hangs around the small of his back. I sigh happily, what a sight it was.

'You expercied taking men's shirt's off?' He jokes, laughing. Then moves his hands to my waist, clawing softly at my skin.

I slide my arms around his neck, up into his hair. Scrathing his scalp tenderly, 'Well–' I begin, but he bites my lip suddenly, warning me. I yelp, accidently pulling on his hair, and a whine escapes him. My core dripping at the sound as I release a shuddering breath, '. .'M a woman Arthur, I have needs.'

'Yeah?' He questions, 'You needin' right now, woman?' The gruffness in his voice making my fingers curl.

'I am. .' Whining, my kisses turn needy, 'I need you Arthur, always.' I moan.

At that he wraps his arms around me, pulling me tightly into his embrace, his fingers digging into my flesh. He kissed me, hard. Hard like he might just die if let's me go.

'Skirt. . .' mumbling against me, 'Needs to go.' He manages. Without another word, I snake my hands behind my back, untying my skirt a let it fall to the floor. Arthur walks forward, forcing me back until my chins hit the bed and we fall onto it. He puts his weight on me, although supported by his forearms. 'Pants.' He orders, but I was already one step ahead. My hands already moving quickly to undo the buttons on his pants as hes kissing his way down my jaw and neck. Focusing on my sweet spot, hes sucks bruises, turning me into a moaning mess under every breath. Meanwhile, I shove my hand into his boxers. He grunts and shoves his forehead into the crook of my neck as I palm him, overwhelmed by my long lusted for touches. His member was already harder than a rock, and leaking juices. I bring my thump to his tip, stroking his seed in circles. He groans breathely into my neck, his warm breath causing further heat to pool in core. He leans onto one arm, sliding the other along the curves of my body. Cupping my breast through my brasier, 'I want to look at you sweetheart.' He groans and unfolds his arm so that hes above me to meet my eyes, 'Can I look at ya'?' He asks, voice pleading.

I nod, '. . 'Course.'.

Waisting no time, he snakes one hand under my back and lifts me up. I gasp, always surprised by his strength. 'Please, ma'am.' He begs, and I take the hint. My hand leaves his his member and move around my back, undoing the brasier. Throwing it on the floor, he sighs in relief, 'Wanted to see ya' for so long.' He breathes, lowering me back onto the bed and himself onto of me. Immidietly taking one breast into his mouth, and palms the other. Squeezing them, playing with my nipples, using teeth, tounge and fingers. Automatically, my back arches. Pushing my abdomen against his, and accidentally making my mound rub against his crotch. He hums under his breath, his hand leaving my breast and slowly slides down my body, then pulls his mouth off of my breast with a pop. 'Now.' He whispers, kissing his way up to my jaw, then leveling his head with mine, 'Wanna se all of ya'.' his free hand cups my cunt. I gasp from the sudden touch, there's no friction, no movement, yet the aching grows stronger from the warmth of his palm alone. I shut my eyes, trying to come up with an answer. But the presence of him takes up my entire mind, all I can manage is a nod.

Not satisfied, he pushes his palm firmly against my core. 'Look at me girl.' He orders, sliding his middle finger over my slit, undergarments creating a barrier. Making my wetness soak into them, and he chuckles when he feels it. Whimpering, I open my eyes to look at him, and he smirks, 'Good girl.' And plants a kiss on my jaw, 'Use your words this time.' He pecks my lips, then slides his finger over my clit. Lately circling it through the fabric, I swallow hard. Jolts of pleasure surge through my body as something finally gives. 'Want. . . You.' I manage.

'Yeah?' He breathes, and I nod. To which he raises his brows, and pushes two fingers against my core in warning.

Another jolt, '!Mmm, meanin'. . .' Humming a stutter, 'Yes–' I pause, '–Please Arthur. I- I want you.'

'Atta girl.' He praises, then begins trailing kisses down my chest, over my nipple and abdomen, ending at my mound, right above my clit.

My back arches, 'Please. .' I whisper, pleading with him. He pushes back, shakes his already half off shirt completley off, and his pants follow. My eyes go wide at the size of him, hello cowboy.

His hands slide up my thighs, giving reassuring squeezes until he gets ahold of my undergarments. Hooking his fingers under them, he gently slides them off, and the both of us gasp. 'Beautiful.' He murmurs, admiring me. Then bends down, kissing his way up my inner thigh. Winding his arms under my legs and grabbing my waist, then hovers over my cunt, giving me one last look before diving in.

He licks one long stripe up my folds, gathering my wetness on his tongue. Then attaches himself to my clit, generously sucking and circling his tongue around it. I'd been on edge since the night in the tent, hyper sensitive from always wanting him, and finally feeling him on me? It's purely magical, I have to bite my cheek to keep from screaming when he shoves two fingers inside me. Thrusting in and out, curling with every withdrawal. I was already close, 'Arthur, 'm so close.' I moan.

He nods, furthering the movement of his tongue, 'Tell me what ya' needin' girl.' He mumbles against my folds, the vibrations of his voice deepness have me gripping my sheets, clawing it them like a wild animal.

'Need you, need you in me.' I blurt out.

He laughs, 'Im already in you sweetheart.' Causing my back to arch again, oh sweet, sweet vibrations. I throw my head back into the pillow, and his hand slides from my hip to my lower abdomen, 'Be good and lay still now.' Then pushing down with his palm. That combined with his fingers, were– were enough. . .

Blinding pleasure surges through me as I come on his fingers, walls clenching, fluids flowing. I breathe heavily as he laps it up, 'In me Arthur, please.' I whine.

'Youre gonna have to be clearer girl.'

I loose my patience, 'Christ, Arthur! I need you cock in me.'

He smirks, 'Well why didnt you just say so?' His hands push my legs over his shoulders and he climbs on top of me, face to face, he kisses me passionately. Tasting of salt.

His tip graces my entrance, 'You sure, aint you?' He asks, kissing my jaw.

I bury my hand in his hair, 'Mmh, 'm sure.' And with that, pushes inside me. A breathy moan leaves our mouths simultaneously.

'Feelin' just as sweet as you taste sweetheart.' He whispers against my jaw, nuzzling his nose into my cheek and forehead against temple. The pulls out, to the tip, and shoves himself back in. Hard and passionate, he sets perfect pace. Rocking our bodies with every thrust, going deeper than I ever thought to be possible.

'Christ.' I groan, he's hitting that spot inside me with every motion. One hand moves though his back, scratching at it loosely, pulling on hip to get him even deeper. He grunts, in my ear. Might aswell be music, wouldnt be able to tell a difference. He snakes one hand up my torso, grabbing my throat gently and squeezing just enough. Brushing his thumb over my my jugular. Outlaw indeed.

I pull on his hair, to level his face with mine, I wanted his lips, his tongue. 'Kiss me cowboy.' I order, and he follows.

Kissing me deeply, in rhythm with his thrusts, In rhythm with the aching that was finally dulling in my body. Finally, I had I'm. Truly had him. Bliss flows through me as the knot in my stumache tightens, on the verge of my second orgasm. And telling by Arthurs thrusts, he wasn't far away either. In a few more thrusts we both topple over with a breathy moans, Arthur whispering, 'Good girl.' Over and over as his seed was filling me to the brim, seeping out around his member as he collapses on me. My legs falling to the bed. We gather our breaths in a comfortable silence, just enjoying the closeness of the other.

He lays and arm around me, pulling me close as we fall asleep. Both thinking of the other, just not having to imagine what holding the other would feel like anymore.

At some point during the night, Arthur had rolled me off of his arm and snuck out. I was to tired to think much of it, especially since he returned shortly after. By morning I had all but forgotten it, brushing it off as a dream.

As we got dressed and ready the next day, I handed Arthur his hat. He took it, but looked at me, 'Put it on, wanna see you in something of mine.' He says, smiling.

'Gladly.' I chirp, and put it on.

His smile slants, turning into a smirk, 'Now, girl. You know what that means don't you?'

'Why'd you think I was glad to put it on. If not just to tell Micah to shove it.' I chuckle.

'It suits ya' He ruffles my hair with the hat.

We walked out and fetch our horses, the grup giving us mixed looks as the spot us. Arthurs hat declaring to the public of his intentions, that I was his and that we would have a busy night. Sadie smirked knowingly, winking at me. While Sean and Lenny looked happy for us, Micah was the only one who glowered.

'I got a surprise.' He says as he saddles his shire.

'Yeah, whats that?' I tilt my head.

He nods to Sean who runs off, I quirk my eyebrow at Arthur, 'Whats all this?' I ask.

'You'll see, keep your eyes peeled sweetheart.'

Eventually, Sean comes back into view, leading a horse I don't recognize. A beautiful mustang, tan coat, and white forhead. I don't connect the dots at first, 'Sean got a new horse?' I ask, confused.

'Now why would I surprise you with a new horse for Sean?' He asks, chuckling. And the pieces snap into place.

'For me?' I ask, dumbfounded. A million questions circling my head.

'Got her yesterday, had Sean ride and get her earlier this morning. Since I was. . . Occupied.' He smirks.

'That's why you snuck out in the night, then?'

He hums, 'Mhm.'

'Well I'll be. . Arthur Morgan, thank you.' I smile, hugging him. He wraps his arm around me, holding me tightly, afraid I'd otherwise slip away.

'. .'S nothing.' He pecks my cheek, 'Go meet her.'

As we arrived back to camp, we got busy. Late into the night we spent in Arthurs tent, defining the meaning of cowgirl.

The next few hours we rode next to eachother on our way back to camp, flirting and laughing as Saint and I got used to eachother.

[strawb3rrystar]

the same HH and HB boys with a s/o that murdered a person who was after them, brutally? Like, the boys can barely distinguish the person's face from how much rage their s/o took at 'em, blood n shit everywhere. Love me, a crazy person who would kill someone 4 me 🤑🤑‼️ for example, sumn like the situation that Stolas has Stella, she's always after him. And their hysteric lil s/o drags them to the corpse and is just there grinning proudly and shit like they didn't rescind a mf's body. I feel like Blitz would be so moved "omg🥹🥺" give his s/o headpats and shit but idk again, you're best at writin' about him, love youuu! -🐆

My insides are red, and yours are too.

Pairing: Angel Dust, Husk, Sir Pentious, Alastor, Lucifer Morningstar, Blitzø, Stolas x GN! Reader

Warnings: Violence, talks of murder

Word count: 425

✰HH Masterlist | HB Masterlist

Angel Dust will be more or less freaked out. Like, he's seen dead sinners before, but he didn't think you were capable of murder. Basically, you killed someone at one of the clubs you frequent who made him uncomfortable. Even though he gets freaked out at first, he finds it very sweet that you killed someone to protect him, and not just for fun.

Husk is surprised at first when you show him the body. Like Angel, he didn't think you were capable of murder. Though he warms up to the idea eventually, it's Hell, you're going to need to defend yourself. I'm not sure who you would have killed for him. Maybe someone he lost to in the past?

Sir Pentious is completely shocked that you murdered someone for him. He knew you were capable of fighting since you've fought alongside him before, but he's never seen you so excited about it. He must admit, he finds your enthusiasm to be quite charming. Wants to hear you rant about every detail of the body and how you planned it of course.

Alastor isn't surprised in the slightest. In fact, he loves the fact you killed someone for him. It proves your loyalty. You probably murdered one of his enemies/someone who hates him. Which is a lot to choose from. He finds your joy of killing to be quite similar to his, and he finds it endearing.

Lucifer is now terrified of you. He knows he's stronger than you in every way being the King of Hell, but he can still get scared. He's mostly scared of the look on your face after it happened. Seeing that face in thousands of sinners, he never thought that you would get that look too. And, you know, it scares him because he kinda feels like he's losing you a little bit.

Blitzø is also ecstatic about you murdering someone. He's never seen you do something so badass and he loved the little show you put on for him. Is very supportive, hyping you up and everything. Either thinks you're his best employee or wants to marry you. And there is an in between. It's both!

Stolas will be quite alarmed that you killed someone for him. He's ever grateful however, considering that he's constantly trying to be assassinated. If you killed Stella, first of, what the fuck?? Secondly, he didn't think anyone would actually kill her. Probably helps you make it look like an accident or blame it on someone else so you don't get in trouble.

Star's notes -> The other day my friend and I played 'Phobics' on roblox. Turns out I have a fear of mannequins and being chased lol. We also played Doors and got jumpscared so bad (I hate loud noises)

(Thank you, 🐆 anon, for requesting!) (Requests are open!)

Taglist -> @alexandria-fandom @corruptcoder @perfectlycraftychaos @stressedbleach @ghostdoodlen

@roboticsuccubus83 @marenelili @mollzaj @sunshines-bright @t0uchst4rv3d

@saints-wrapped-in-plastic @sweetadonisbutbetter @little-miss-chaoss @sunr1s3-strab3rr1 @naathanuwu

@solicitedfreakiness @sugarplumz100 @hazbinhappy @facelessfionna | Join the taglist

[forever-rogue]

Joel teaching reader how to swim and hella sexual tension I would DIE

I am a sucker for the thought of Joel teaching reader how to do anything

AN | Shut up though, I loved writing this! 🥰 

Pairing | Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings | Language

Word Count | 2.3k

Masterlist | Joel, Main

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Joel had taught you a lot of things since you'd met him almost two years ago.

He'd taught you how to shoot properly, despite the fact that you nearly blew his head off. He had the patience of a saint, but claimed he had the heart of a sinner. Either way - he was the one that taught you.

He'd taught you how to drive, despite the fact that there was no real reason for you to know. Sure, you had been plenty old enough drive before the end of the world but had never wanted to. These days it just seemed like a novelty. Even though you had managed to back into a tree - a feat he still wasn't sure how you managed - he still was patient and gentle with you. 

The man had taught you a lot of useful things and skills, and you were always an eager learner. If anything, you enjoyed being in his company. 

In turn you'd shown him some of your own skills and tricks. You were sure they paled in comparison but you couldn't deny the fact that it was hilarious to watch him try and bake. He might have been a decent cook but a baker, he was not. And yet you still ate his hard, flavorless cookies with a big smile on your face.

You loved getting to show him how to crochet, despite how frustrated he grew at the delicate materials in his hands. You set him right over and over again but never lost your patience even when he was ready to give up. He'd ended up making you an off kilter scarf; you adored it.

It was a trade off between the two of you; give and take, take and give. Sometimes it was the little things, like him making sure you'd remembered to eat or bringing you a coffee or you making sure he'd rested or didn't forget any of his tools. 

You didn't really know where that left the two of you, in this sort of weird limbo where you were neither just friends but also not lovers. It was…odd. Sometimes you were ready to step across the line, to step from the garden into the jungle and finally just kiss him but you never quite worked up the needed bravado. Joel experienced significant moments of weakness, ones where he desired to pull you into his arms and kiss you dizzy, but he never let him spiral. Instead he kept his distance, yearning and yearning and yearning.

But now? Now he was convinced you were trying to kill him.

And it had all started one lazy evening when he couldn't keep his mouth shut. Idiot, he cursed himself.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

"What do you mean you don't know how to swim?" Joel almost choked on his beer as you offered him a sheepish little smile, "that's - its - I…that's a basic life skill!"

"I dunno," you felt your face warming and warming under his intense scrutiny, sure you would explode from the look in his eyes, "I just never learned and never really a need to."

"What if some sort of emergency happened and you needed to swim, huh?" He leaned back in his chair and regarded you with curiosity, a smile dancing across his features, "you just gonna drown?"

"No," you waved him off, "I always thought that I'd be able to just…figure out."

"Right," he was holding back his laughter, you could tell, "of course."

"Joel Miller!" You huffed at him, "do not laugh at me!"

"I'm not!"

"You are too," you looked at him with a pout and he leaned forward to brush a few stray hairs out of your face. The simple shiver felt electric, "don't be mean…please."

"I'm not, sweetheart," he promised, "but I am going to teach you how to swim."

"What?!"

"Yes," he nodded cooly, "and you don't get a choice so don't bother arguing. You need to know how…and even if you never swim again, at least you'll know how to."

"Fine," you pretended to glare at him, your expression falling so far away from that, "fine."

"Fine," he nodded in agreement, "this weekend at the lake."

He had no idea he'd just signed his death warrant.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was a warm and sunny afternoon when you made your way over to the lake. You had your bathing suit on under your baggy t-shirt and jean shorts. This felt so…normal. That alone brought a smile to your face.

Joel was already there, a blanket and some towels and a picnic basket on the ground next to him. If you'd been looking at him and not stunned at everything he'd brought, you might have noticed the way his entire face lit up.

"Joel," you finally turned to him and felt your legs already turn to tell at the sight of him, "you've…definitely gone well above what I expected."

"Well, I had to make this a good first time…e-experience," his cheeks flushed a pretty pink as you giggled at him.

"A good first time, huh?" You teased and yeah. You were absolutely going to be the death of him.

"First time swimming," he stared at his feet, mentally kicking himself for how foolish you made him feel, "first experience with swimming."

"Relax Miller," you put your hand on his shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze, "I'm just teasin'."

"You're being cruel," he insisted as you shrugged innocently, "we're here for a very serious purpose."

"You're right," you nodded firmly, "let's get started…unless you want to eat first?"

"Food after," he insisted as you playfully rolled your eyes and nodded. You kicked off your slides and tugged down your shorts. Your t-shirt had been oversize and baggy enough that nothing was really showing. 

This much Joel could handle. This was still in the safe zone. He mirrored your actions and pulled down his pants, leaving his bottom half in swim trunks. You took a moment to admire that much of him.

Then you did it; you almost gave him a heart attack as you lifted up your shirt, making quick work of throwing it off and discarding it into the growing clothes pile. Joel inhaled sharply as he looked you over with wide eyes.

You were wearing a two-piece, one that first you perfectly, highlight every curve, and looked like it was made for you. Joel was almost drooling as he willed himself not stare at your ass or breasts, reminding himself that this was just to teach you to swim. A valuable life skill. 

But he was slowly forgetting that with each passing moment, drinking you in and trying his best to remain respectful. You were just so damn beautiful.

You caught him staring and instantly shied away, worried by his silent reaction, "is this too much? Should I try and change into something else-

"No!"

"This was the only one I could scrounge up," you nervously scratched the back of your neck, "nobody seemed to have anything better."

Right. Because no one else in Jackson had something better or more modest. They did, of course they did, but…they were also tired of watching the two of you moon over each other and thought that maybe this would push the two of you in the right direction. Friendly encouragement, Ellie would call it.

"It's fine," it was anything but fine. It was giving him a heart attack and a hard on, "really."

"Okay," you nodded shyly as he cleared his throat, "come on then, I can't be the only one this exposed!"

Joel hesitated for a moment before moving to take off his shirt. It was something he still struggled with at times, but he knew that you'd never judge him. If there was anything he trusted, it was you.

As soon as he was shirtless you had to work to keep from jumping his bones. He was always insanely attractive in that rugged, handsome way and this was no exception. Golden skin marred with the harshness and cruelty of the years and dotted with freckles. You wanted to map them out with your lips, to taste him, and make him yours. It could be so simple, really. All you had to do-

"Hey," Joel snapped you out of your little daydream fantasy and you looked back at him with a soft, dreamy smile, "take a picture, huh?"

"Ha ha," damn. He'd caught you red-handed, "let's get started."

"Get in the water," he insisted as he jerked his head to the side.

"Pardon?"

"Dive right in," he repeated, "I'll go first and make sure you don't drown, sweetheart. Gotta learn to tread water first and foremost."

"I…I'm nervous," you confessed softly, "what if I can't do it?"

"You can," he promised softly, "I have full faith in you. And you know I would never let anything happen to you."

You both knew he was right.

"Okay. I trust you," you whispered, walking to the water's edge. 

It was sink or swim, and something told you that was going to be applicable for multiple things today.

"Good," he promised, "come on."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Turned out that swimming wasn't too bad at all. Or too hard. What was that old expression - like a duck to water? Well that happened to be you. It probably didn't hurt that you didn't want to make a fool out of yourself in front of Joel, so you listened closely and tried your best to do exactly what he was telling you.

Admittedly it was hard to stay focused with him close and so bare and so hands on. Every fiber of your being was humming with anticipation and nerves.

"Not so hard," Joel grinned as you swam to a stop in front of him. You were practically glowing under his praise. 

"Not so bad-" but just then you felt something touch your leg, and you shrieked. It was such an odd and unexpected sensation that your body did the first thing it could thing of - grab onto to Joel.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," you were holding onto him tightly, pressing your body into his as you willed whatever had touched you to disappear. Joel, naturally and instinctively, wrapped his arm around you in a protective manner, "what's wrong? What happened?"

 “I felt something,” you closed your eyes and buried your face into his neck - his glorious, lovely neck - and tried to calm down, “it was brushed against my leg. It felt so weird and gross.”

“Oh,” and he laughed, the bastard had the audacity to laugh, as you pulled back and looked at him with a pretty pout on your lips. He longed to kiss it away, “we’re in a lake sweetheart, there’s bound to be some fish in here.”

“Fish?” your nose wrinkled in disgust, something which he found endearing as hell, “I…that makes sense. But I don’t like it! It felt horrible.”

“You’re okay,” he promised sweetly, pushing your wet hair behind your ears, “I’ve got you.”

“I know,” there was a palpable shift between the two of you then and there. He didn’t let go of you, and you weren’t in a hurry to pull out of his touch. You opened and closed your mouth a few times, at a loss for words. Instead, you just looked at him, the human embodiment of heart eyes, “Joel.”

“How much longer are we going to keep doing this?” he asked so quietly that for a moment you wondered if he’d even said anything. But then he was so close, and so close for you to finally kiss.

“D-doing what?” you stammered nervously, well aware of what he meant.

“Dancing around each other,” he brushed his knuckles over your cheek and you made a small sound in the back of your throat, “acting like we don’t want this. So close, but never quite there.”

“We could stop…”

“We should stop,” he agreed with a small nod, tilting his head as he cupped the back of your neck with a soft touch, “if you want to.”

"Oh totally, I want to,” you agreed, and before you knew it, his lips were on yours and he was kissing in the sweetest and most gentle touch. You couldn’t help the small moan that escaped you as he pulled you impossibly closer and you melded your body into his. He didn’t stop until you were breathless and definitely in a dizzying love spiral. 

“Look at that,” he pressed his forehead against yours, closing his eyes as you sighed softly, “nothing happened and you, sweetheart, know how to swim.”

“I had a pretty good teacher,” and with that you kissed him again, lazy and saccharine, neither of you in a rush to end what had been building for so long, “you know?”

“It’s easy when you have a good student,” he teased affectionately, “you’re going to be the death of me…but you already knew that, didn’t you?”

“Yes,” you sighed into his touch, “but you love it.”

“I do,” he had to stop himself from saying what was really on his mind just yet. He didn’t want to rush; he wanted to take the time to cultivate what he had with you, to watch it blossom and grow over time, “I do.”

[buckrecs]

2023 𝙗𝙪𝙘𝙠𝙮 𝙗𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙚𝙨 𝙛𝙞𝙘 𝙧𝙚𝙘 1

masterlist | ✨- fav fics | status - complete

All of them are COMPLETE Series.

1. hurts like hell by @extremelyblackandwhite

Bucky x Maximoff!Reader

she loses him at the battle of wakanda and grows into a morally grey witch trying to gain him back.

2. Broken by @soulgazingwithbucky

Bucky x Reader

You built the bridge between you and Bucky Barnes, but he only knows how to watch things burn.

3. Blood Petals by @picassho-18

Mob!Bucky x Assassin!Reader

When the famous death hungry assassin, the Blood Mistress, and the charismatic mob boss of Brooklyn city, James Barnes meet, heads will most definitely roll.

4. It’s A Match by @ofstarsandvibranium

Chubby!Bucky x Reader

You’re back home for Spring Break and you’re swiping through Tinder in the middle of the night. You come across the profile of your high school history teacher that you may or may not have had a slight crush on. Throwing impulse control out the window, you swipe right. Lo and behold, you’re shocked to find that you matched.

5. Ruin by @sinner-as-saint

Mob!Bucky x Reader

You work at a café owned by your family, close to your uni. And most of your days are pretty laid back and calm, but that is until you catch the eye of the mob boss. Your cute skirts and soft sweaters make him weak. Your innocence captivates him. And he wants you, badly. He wants you in his bed, wants his hand under those cute little skirts… he wants to ruin you. 

6. A Taste for Older Men by @seventven

DBF!Bucky x Reader

y/n is moving back in with her parents after breaking up with her college boyfriend. due to an emergency at work, y/n’s dad is unable to pick her up and sends his friend bucky in his stead. to bucky’s surprise, y/n is no longer the innocent girl he remembers from years back.

7. Always by @jadedvibes

Best Friend!Bucky x Reader

Bucky realizes he's in love with you right before graduation, but you accepted a job offer across the country. Fortunately, nothing, not even distance can hinder the way you feel about one another.

8. Running From the Past by @green-eyeddragonfanfiction

Bucky x Mutant!Reader

Reader is a mutant who was experimented on by HYDRA. Due to her unique powers, she escapes without being seen when the Avengers attack the Hydra compound she’s been kept in for the last 5 years of her life. Her mutations and Hydra experiments allow her to blend in with her surroundings and change her appearance in minor ways, though the changes are only temporary. She’s now on the run, avoiding both Hydra and SHIELD.

9. Operation: Faking It…? by @povlvr

Bucky x Avenger!Reader

Surely faking a relationship to improve the public opinion of one beefy super solider known as Bucky Barnes would be the easiest of mission for two well seasoned Avengers? Tony Stark seems to think so & decides to task you with 'Operation: Faking it', but what happens when you realise there might be less faking needed than originally planned?

10. Misconceptions by @firefly-in-darkness

Bucky x Reader

Bucky Barnes overhears a conversation that he shouldn’t have…

11. Bucky & the Beast by @thejamesoldier

Assistant!Bucky x Boss!Reader

“You were an asshole back in high school but now you’re my boss.”

12. Buckyvision by @fictionalmemories ✨

Bucky x Reader

While fighting Wanda with you, Bucky gets hit with her power and wakes up to a reality that’s not his own.

13. Best. Date. Ever | Best. Proposal. Ever by @bitsandbobsandstuff

Bucky x Reader

This wasn’t quite what you had in mind.

14. Just Like You by @ladyfallonavenger

Dad!Bucky x Mom!Reader

The Reader loses Bucky in the snap and life presents a whole new challenge.

15. Heart of Steal by @invisibleanonymousmonsters

Knight!Bucky x Princess!Reader

Sir James is known throughout the lands as the most fearsome and honorable warrior. Ballads have been written about him. Men fear him. He is the most trusted knight of the King Henry. So why has he given up the glories of war and pledged his loyalty to Princess Y/N? 

16. will you love me tomorrow? by @buckys-darling

Bucky x Reader

You and Bucky are friends who fuck and nothing more. That’s what you’ll keep telling yourself, at least.

17. I Needed You by @ofheroesandvillains ✨

Bucky x Reader

Reader tries to make sense of her feelings, it doesn’t really go too well, especially when Bucky already has a girl. 

18. sweet by @noceurous

FWB!Bucky x Reader

it was something cliche but your fuck buddy fell for you nonetheless, even though you swore you would never do relationships again. But rules are meant to be broken.

19. Hope Of It All by @bethdutten ✨

Bucky x Avenger!Reader

set between WS and CW; after saving Steve and breaking from Hydra, Bucky remembers you from the helicarrier. He doesn’t know where else to go.

20. Season Of The Witch by @msmarvelwrites

Bucky x Enhanced!Reader

Your witchy abilities get you in quite a bit of trouble from time to time… But this time you don’t mind so much. 

21. The Last Word by @thefallenbibliophilequote

Bucky x Reader

you and Bucky never get along, it’s not that you hate him- it’s just that he always finds ways to get on your nerves. You’ve had enough of it.

22. Super Mom by @marvelous-imagining

Bucky x Single Mom!Reader

23. Take Me Out by @shamevillain

Assassin!Bucky x Assassin!Reader

You and Bucky are both professionally trained assassins. Both contracted to kill the other. Both completely unaware.

24. Like I Want You by @tmpestuous

College!Bucky x Reader

you and bucky have been best friends your entire life and it’s never been anything but platonic. so why do things get so bad when he gets a new girlfriend?

25. Overthinking by @galaxy-siren

Bucky x Assistant!Reader

Tony and Bruce’s lab assistant, Y/N, is harboring feelings for Bucky. When she accidentally texts him that he’s cute, she overthinks the whole situation. It might just take the meddling of the other Avengers to work this out.

26. So This Is Love by @ofstarsandvibranium

Chubby!College!Bucky x Reader

friend and roommate, Bucky, is a bit of an annoying fuckboy. He sleeps around as well as tries to be as annoying to you as possible. But here’s the thing: you don’t mind any of it.

27. Some Alpha by @/ofstarsandvibranium

Alpha!Bucky x Reader

Bucky is an Alpha, but can never seem to find someone who wants him to be their Alpha. Until he finds you, a Beta, who’s as firey as an Alpha, yet also tender-hearted like an Omega.

28. The Favors by @bbyboybucket

Virgin!Bucky x Reader

Reader assumes that Bucky is experienced due to him being a ladies man in the 40s, however, she finds out that he’s never been touched and decides to help him out.

29. take my breath away by @buckycuddlebuddy ✨

Dilf!Neighbor!Pornstar!Bucky x Reader

who knew that your silent, very good-looking neighbor with the cutest kid was such a devil under his grumpy and quiet behavior... 

30. Capital Letters by @sinner-as-saint

Writer!Bucky x Assistant!Reader

James Buchanan Barnes, one of the best, most admired and affluent authors of your time turns out to be nothing but a heartless man... or so you thought. 

[greenandsorrow]

The fox (2): Found something real that's out of touch.

Alastor x fem!fox!reader

stay tuned for the final chapter

"To you I am nothing more than a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world."

~Le petit prince, Antoine de Saint-Exupery

The girl woke up with a start. Her mother was by her side. The monotone sound of the machines attached to her body could be heard. She had died but they had brought her back.

In the few minutes it had taken to revive her, her soul had wandered all the way to Hell- due to how there hadn't been any guidance from Heaven. Her death hadn't been meant to happen. Not yet.

Time flew differently in the afterlife, since she had spent a good fifteen days at the hotel, but as mentioned, only a couple of minutes at the hospital.

The girl lived. She left the hospital, but she kept her promise to Alastor. She never forgot about him. While he was in Hell, thinking she was in Heaven, she was alive, roaming Earth.

She searched a plethora of archives at Louisiana's library and she tried to gather as much information as possible from her grandma about Alastor the radio host.

A serial killer that would hide his victims' bodies on deer haunting ground. He had been killed while mistaken for one. Hence his appearance in the afterlife. He was also found to be linked to voodoo practices- for hurtful purposes.

He had been a bad man in all his life. He had caused pain to others, but she couldn't just ignore the way he had been there for her during her short stay in the hotel.

Alastor was the one cooking her Jambalaya when she was sad and entertaining her with his charm and wit. That's how she'd always remember him. The smiling, gentledeer with the black cane.

She went as far as visiting Louisiana's old cemetery. Why would she leave flowers on the grave of a killer? Why would she sit and reminisce about one of Hell's most devious sinners? She wasn't the one to give him forgiveness. She didn't even try to justify his vile actions. The flowers were simply her way of saying "thank you, because even though you've done so many wrongs, you did at least one good deed and that was helping me".

The photograph on the grave -placed behind a now broken frame- was fading slowly but surely. The young man that looked back at her had a smooth, tan complexion and bespectacled, smart eyes. The shade of his eyes and hair reminded her of hot coffee in the morning. The quality wasn't great, but then again, coloured pictures weren't as advanced back then.

Alastor's visits to Rosie grew more frequent after his little, fluffy friend vanished. He'd sit for hours with his hellborn bestie, telling her about every single detail of his experience with the young girl.

"I'm surprised you didn't just devour her Hun! I'm sure she'd taste so delicious!"

"Dear Rosie... I have to be honest with you... If there's one person except from my mother that I would never hurt... It is her, the fox."

Both of whom were gone for the foreseeable eternity.

With Rosie refilling his tea cup frequently and asking him additional questions, Alastor couldn't help but think about the fox.

It hadn't been all good times, but now that she was gone, even the not so pleasant memories carried a bittersweet quality to them.

For example, there had been many arguments between them and the girl hadn't been scared to show him her teeth, quite literally.

He found himself thinking of her again as he made his way back to the hotel, after his visit at Cannibal town.

Alastor's memory...

She was being nosy again. Asking too many questions.

"Well yes, I did die in the woods like you... It's peculiar. This is the first time I ever meet someone who died under the same circumstances... not the exact same, but you get my drill?"

The girl had shrugged, but she hadn't been able to suppress her smile at being given attention. Alastor had continued talking, simultaneously warming up his voice for his radio show.

"What if this is too much of a coincidence? What if this is part of some bigger plot..."

"A bigger plot? How so Alastor?"

He liked the way she pronounced his name. She'd say it with caution, like it was something important that should be respected.

Sometimes people get sent in our lives for a reason. Sometimes they teach us a lesson. Sometimes we are the lesson. Sometimes they are reminders. Reminders of things we had forgotten that existed.

"Do you have a tail?"

"What do you expect?"

"Oh please show me!"

As much as he wanted to be intimidating and taken seriously, even if he was an overlord, the fact that his body got changed into a deer was somewhat humiliating. He. Is. Not. Prey.

"Not happening."

He should have shown her, just to see that sparkle in her eyes. Regret.

Charlie was singing. It wasn't like him zoning out, but a few weeks ago the fox had been in that very same room, walking away... frustrated.

Alastor's memory...

"Oh dear..." he had muttered, following after her before swiftly stepping in front of her and slightly raising his arm, blocking her way.

"Now it would be quite rude to simply walk away, would it not?"

"Manners are the last thing occupying my mind after I was thrown in purgatory."

He had let out a chuckle of agreement at her point.

"Sometimes a bit of charm can take you a long way in life... and besides the company of your sweet self would be delightful!"

"Can it take me to Heaven?"

"What about a story sweetheart? It was so brutal when I first spawned here... just thinking about that time makes my tongue tingle with the sweet taste of blood."

"I hate this place."

She had been unhappy all the time he knew her.

In a mockingly sympathetic tone Alastor had tried to distract her.

"Awww... are you really not enjoying your stay here in our beautiful hotel? I'm sure you have met some really interesting individuals."

"I prefer my well deserved place in HEAVEN thank you very much."

All their conversations had always circled back to that exact point.

While she was beginning to grow on him, to her Alastor was still no one. She would chat with him, but he wasn't someone special in her heart. The radio demon hated himself for allowing that bond to bloom, but he hated himself even more because it was one sided. Him being on the losing end.

And there had been another fight that very same day.

"LET ME DOWN"

"Ask nicely."

"I hate you."

Alastor's playful attitude had vanished.

"Hate is a strong feeling. What is there to hate? My looks? My voice? My past?"

"You're a demon. You're... I hate you as much as I hate this place."

"Think again."

Sometimes it was truly infuriating how stubborn she would be.

"Um... I... I don't know. Everything."

"Everything?"

Despite himself, Alastor's tone had gotten slightly bitter.

"Well... this just ruins the mood now. Don't you think it's rather unreasonable to hate someone you've known only for three days? I can tell you're quite childish... but you're not that childish, right young one?"

She had placed a palm on his chest to push him away. She was practically glowing from purity while he was emitting pure darkness.

The radio demon had looked a little surprised when the girl had pushed him away without showing fear. Leaning in, he'd spoken in a whisper while his hot breath had hit her cheek.

"My dear, you shouldn't resist what's happening... Just allow yourself to stay with us at the hotel... As a sinner."

Alastor had decided to corrupt the new resident of the hotel. His taunting words and unsettling change of size hadn't fazed her... The girl had been scared, but still, she had managed to give him a few really sharp scratches. Yet, he hadn't responded to pain at all.

...he would always carry the little scars she left on him. A reminder that she had been there.

The real reason he had wanted her to stay was selfish. It would have done her more harm than good. He didn't like how he had acted like the bigger person.

But when it had happened -the ridiculous scratches- with a threatening voice he had told her...

"You think you're so strong Fox, huh? Because if I wanted to, I could crush you with just a single motion of one of my fingers."

"Then, you'd... you'd have Heaven against you!"

He had bursted into a laugh.

"Oh dear... I can't believe how naive you are! Heaven is not going to do anything to defend an insignificant person such as yourself. They're more worried about themselves and their perfect little world. The ones you look up to are always the first to disappoint you mon petit renard."

He never understood why he had said that to her. He had practically tried to save her from a heartbreaking realization. A realization that had always pained Alastor in his childhood. To know you have to fend for yourself. While he had perfected the art, he wished she didn't have to.

He had forgotten they were fighting.

She was dreaming of him, again. Red hair. Razor blades for teeth. The sound of static filling the air and making her hair frizz.

The girl liked that memory, it was one of her favourites to relive in her sleep.

The fox's memory...

"No, my dear fox, you're not a good soul. In reality you're really just a little hypocrite and have a high opinion of yourself- haha!"

She had been curled up in a ball in her bed. Luscious hair flowing and a light dress covering her small body.

Alastor had walked into the room she was occupying and had sat down next to her. He had spoken in a soft and caring voice.

"You don't have to try and stay holy while you're here in hell... This is a safe place where you can act out your hedonistic desires and not worry about being judged by anyone!"

"Jeez Alastor! I don't have such desires... My only desire right now is a fluffy blanket and some hot chocolate."

Alastor had snapped his fingers... He then had turned into a shadow, slipping away like sand and returning like a chilly breeze... With hot chocolate and a very fluffy blanket he had most definitely stolen from Charlie's bedroom.

Her eyes had widened and she had smiled.

"Oh my gosh..."

He had grinned in response. It wasn't like him acting on impulse, without deeper motives.

"I told you mon renard! This is the best place you could possibly be to try and relax! Here we are free from all the restrictions set on us in Heaven!"

"Thank you Alastor!"

She had never bought a thing he had told her and he knew it. But this act had somehow been calming this... this weird apprehension. The demon had somehow known that his time with her would be limited. She hadn't belonged.

In comparison to him, she was a saint, an angel even.

While she had been drinking her hot chocolate, he had taken the opportunity to really look at her, imprinting her features in his memory, engraving the shine of her fangs and the blush on her cheeks in his brain.

"Now just look at that cute little face of yours!"

"Oh, look as much as you want. I'll be gone soon anyway."

She had said that with such a confidence. He wouldn't have shown her, but she could sense it. He was sad.

Alastor had simply chuckled and then sighed.

"Yes I guess so. But for now just rest... Maybe tomorrow will be your lucky day!"

He gently stroked her hair, until her eyes had closed.

"Sleep well darling~"

That night she had decided he was someone to her and not just anyone.

She never knew, but that same night he had noticed how small she actually was compared to him and had genuinely smiled.

She smiled in her sleep, mimicking the motion he had made... months ago.

...time flies.

The car accident is now years away.

All the parts-> here!

🧡Please do not repost or directly copy my work.

🧡This fic's title is a lyric from 'Not about angels' by Birdy. It's not proof read, so forgive any spelling or grammar errors.

🧡The human Alastor fanart isn't mine. All credits go to the artist.

🧡I am aware this isn't everyone's cup of tea -writing wise or plot wise- but it was a spontaneous idea of mine I wanted to try and make work.

🧡Dividers-> @saradika-graphics & @cafekitsune

🧡My masterlist

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lil tag list; @mariaclarade-la-cruz1 @alastorthirsty @mezzo-piano230 @shayshaymonyou

[cookies-over-yonder]

the disquieting demeanor of aelwyn abernant

Aelwyn is laying on the top bunk of her and Adaine's bed, failing to drown out the sounds of teenage partying with a pillow covering her ears when she hears a door open and shut. "Adaine?" she asks, sitting up and turning around. It's a figure shorter than Adaine, and despite the darkness of the room, she can tell who it is. It's Riz.

inspired by i am a sinner, you are a saint by @erelux

ao3

Aelwyn is laying on the top bunk of her and Adaine's bed, failing to drown out the sounds of teenage partying with a pillow covering her ears when she hears a door open and shut.

"Adaine?" she asks, sitting up and turning around.

It's a figure shorter than Adaine, and despite the darkness of the room, she can tell who it is.

It's Riz.

"Aelwyn! Sorry, I—I forgot you'd be in here," he says, wringing his hands. 

"I live here."

"Yeah, I know," he says, running a trembling hand through his hair. "I—I just—Adaine always gives me free reign of her room during parties like these because sometimes it gets too—too loud, or too uncomfortable or, um..."

He clears his throat, and his breathing is quite shallow. "I—I—I'll leave if I'm disturbing you, but I promise I'll be quiet."

"Alright," Aelwyn says, if only because he looks like he'll cry if she doesnt, and she turns back around.

She hears him settle on the lower bunk, and the sound of him flapping his hands is only slightly annoying.

What's really bothering her is his shallow breathing. Is he high? That might explain what seems like paranoia, but she doesn't smell anything on him.

Whatever. She covers her ears with a pillow again and continues scrolling on her crystal.

These parties aren't really her thing either. Now that she's out of highschool, she has better things to do than get drunk and high and take her top off and scream and dance until the sun comes up. It's lost its charm.

Aelwyn doesn't know Riz very well, but she can at least agree with that.

In fact, Aelwyn doesn't really know anything about Riz. She finds that most of Adaine's friends are fairly easy to read, but Riz is a mystery. Maybe it comes with being a rogue.

Though it seems he's not very good at that, because he's being rather loud right now.

Aelwyn hears gasps for air coming from the bottom bunk, and it sounds uncomfortably similar to when her sister has her panic attacks.

And then the gasps are muffled. But still there.

Adaine wouldn't be happy if Aelwyn let one of her friends die in their room, so she climbs down the ladder to check on him.

Riz is sitting on Adaine's bed, with his forehead rested on his knees and his hands clawing at his hair. He's trembling violently, and hyperventilating, and he looks a fucking lot like Adaine when she's having a panic attack.

"Riz?"

Riz's head snaps up and he looks at her with wide eyes. "Do—do you want—do you want me to leave?" he asks between gasps. "Suh—sorry, I said—I said I would be qui—quiet—"

Riz presses the heels of his hands into his eyes and hyperventilates harder, unable to speak.

She's seen Adaine go through so many of these, and she's always felt helpless to stop it. Of course that wouldn't change now.

Aelwyn sits on the bed across from him and holds his shoulders. He hisses and flinches back, breaking contact.

Great.

And just then, there's a bang on the door that makes them both flinch. And A shout from far away of "You're not allowed in there!" And the door opens, and the disgusting sound of sloppy kisses fills the room as Aelwyn turns to see a random couple probably trying to fuck in here.

"Get out!" Adaine shouts, running inside, grabbing them both, shoving them out of the room, and slamming the door shut. "Jeez, the nerve of some people. Sorry guys, ah—"

She stops short when she sees Riz, now curled even further in on himself with his hands over his ears. He's fully sobbing now, and gasping for air so aggressively it sounds painful.

"Riz, hey," she starts, voice far softer, and she sits on the bed with the both of them. "Hey, it's okay, you're okay, can you hear me?"

Riz nods, and Adaine runs her hands up and down his arms. He doesn't hiss or pull away with her.

"Okay, you're having a panic attack, it's okay, it'll pass, I promise."

Riz leans forward to press his forehead against her chest, and she moves to wrap him in a hug, with one hand on his back and the other running fingers through his hair.

"You're okay. You're okay. Breathe with me."

He nods again, and Aelwyn watches as Adaine shushes him and soothes him, and as his sobs fizzle out and his breathing starts to steady.

She watches him shoot her a Message cantrip.

"None of that, I've already told you this, you have nothing to be sorry for," Adaine says, and she uses her Mage Hand to grab a set of headphones from her backpack and put it on his head.

He adjusts the headphones to his liking, and with his now free hands he clings to her, holding the fabric of her shirt in his fists.

"Do you need food? Water? Sleep?"

He nods his head, and she helps him adjust into a laying position on her bed, tucks him in, summons Boggy, and hands that incredibly round frog to him.

Watching this, Aelwyn finds herself brought to tears.

She should have been this for her little sister.

And when Adaine departs to get Riz some food and drink, Aelwyn follows her out.

And as soon as the door is shut behind them, she asks:

"Does Riz have an anxiety disorder? Like you?"

"I'm sure of it, but he won't even consider it," Adaine says as they start to walk.

"Ah."

"It's not a one-off thing. That's for sure," Adaine says, and Aelwyn can see the worry written all over her face.

"You see yourself in him," Aelwyn says.

"How perceptive," Adaine deadpans, grabbing a couple slices of pizza and putting them on a plate.

Aelwyn grabs a can of soda to pass to her, but she grabs it, puts it back on the table, and points at the water bottles. Right.

She grabs one of those instead.

"How do you help someone who's having a panic attack?" Aelwyn asks as they travel back to their room.

"Grounding exercises, but it can differ from person to person," Adaine says, opening the door.

"Could you by any chance... teach me some of those?"

Adaine looks up at her with a smile. "Yeah, I can."

"Thank you."

Aelwyn puts the water bottle beside the plate of food Adaine places on the bed, and she climbs back onto her bunk, leaving Adaine to wake Riz up and make sure he eats, because she isn't quite sure that anything she does won't make it worse.

But soon she'll learn, and she'll be the kind of sister she wishes she were this entire time.

[the-golden-comet]

✨😈Seven Deadly Sins Tag😈✨

Thank you very much for this tag here, @drchenquill , here @theink-stainedfolk , and here @thatuselesshuman , as well as anyone else who has tagged me for this !! This looks like a fun one! 💫✨

Rules: which of your OCs would you assign to which of the seven deadly sins and why?

Alright, here we go ✨

Greed:

Peter from Peter Hart would have to take this one. He’s a treasure pirate, and captain of the Golden Phoenix Gang. That title alone shows that Peter is a fan of materialistic wealth, and has amassed a fair amount of coin on all of his adventures. One of the themes in Peter Hart is “The Price of Greed,” which is to say he has to choose between a moral good and his own self-indulgence quite often.

Sloth:

Noah from YWIMC takes this one. He is holed up in his apartment when he’s not required to attend class, takes online courses when that option is given just to avoid going out in public, and hates going outside of his comfort zone.

Wrath:

Tyr from ITROG fits the bill the best. He is one spiteful, vengeful, and angry OC that constantly fights for his own survival, and his defiant and bull-headed attitude has gotten him into lots of trouble, with the biggest act of defiance serving as the catalyst for his forced adventure.

Gluttony:

Ali from YWIMC would fit this sin best. He is not only a glutton for knowledge, but is also incredibly self-indulgent once he is freed from the lamp. Taking life’s pleasures to the extreme, as well as his love of cooking, matches this sin very well.

Envy:

Gustav from ITROG would be the most envious OC. Constantly searching and competing with nature, he’s always felt like an outcast to other giants. He often finds himself wishing to fit in, and wishing to have that sense of family that he doesn’t have as a wandering lone wolf.

Lust:

Itazura from Tenshito would be lust on account of his occupation (porn star). Though he does wish to escape this job and become a chef, there’s no doubt that Ita has enjoyed the fortune that comes with this role, despite despising the fame. Being paid exorbitantly has had its merits, yet one of Ita’s struggles in the story is how much his current job is worth the risk.

Pride:

Benjamin from Peter Hart would match this sin the most. Being raised as a prince has given Benji a sense of ego, which thoroughly gets checked on several occasions. His sense of self-worth on the surface seems inflated, but deep down Benjamin struggles with his identity, and wishes to escape his duties in order to freely express himself.

You may have noticed that Tenshi from Tenshito is not on this list. The cinnamon roll angel is no sinner; he is a saint. 🙏🪽✨

Going to gently tag (no pressure): @tragedycoded , @somethingclevermahogony , @oliolioxenfreewrites , @leahnardo-da-veggie , @kaylinalexanderbooks , @willtheweaver , @aintgonnatakethis , @honeybewrites , @illarian-rambling , @agirlandherquill , @theaistired , @lychhiker-writes , @jev-urisk , @wyked-ao3 , @alinacapellabooks , @gioiaalbanoart , @autism-purgatory , @48lexr , @badscientist , @rhikasa , @aalinaaaaaa , @dearunreliablenarrator , @swordslord , @worlds-tallest-fairy , @rotting-moon-writes , @tildeathiwillwrite , @mauannacreates , @moltenwrites , @asablehart , @dragoninatrenchcoat , @marlowethelibrarian , @sableglass , @cowboybrunch , @coffeexafterxmidnight , @words-after-midnight , @saturnine-saturneight , @smellyrottentrees , @lavender-gloom , @thecomfywriter , @mysticstarlightduck , @ominous-feychild , +open tag to whoever else wants to join! ✨

[lucifugousart]

"DIO's Heaven" A jjba world building theory no one asked for that has been TORTURING me for years.

❗❗ SPOILERS FOR PARTS 1-6❗❗

OK LET'S GO "The Heaven pertaining the soul, WHERE it'll go." Tl;dr: Heaven is a place. Here's how:

We know that in the Jojo universe Hell and Heaven are equally talked about as a religious belief. In part 1 young Dio was sure his Father was going to end up in Hell for the atrocities he committed his whole life.

And again, in part 6 Dio specifies that the Heaven he talks about is where the human spirit will go after death. With the introduction of stands, the visual personification of souls, we clearly see this happen multiple times, especially the ascension to Heaven, where they'll finally find peace.

In part 5 we'll also see how, ironically, dying is the only way to escape the chains of Fate. The same Fate that has been object of both oppression AND obsession for Dio since his young age. He believed it was in his Destiny to accomplish his early goals, being Jojo also part of this bigger plan. Of course he was wrong.

Failing to realize how Jojo was the closest person to him (and how attached he was), this dumb man ends up killing him and then regretting the act. I don't wanna go too much in detail about it because we all have read the manga and perfectly know what happens, so, Dio just lost the most important person in his life and had 100 years to overthink about it at the bottom of the sea. Perhaps, taking jojo's body wasn't what Destiny meant for them as "being two that make one" and this dumb dumb can't go back in time. ...or can he? Let's proceed in order

All Dio wants is happiness (relatable, i know) that can only be found in Heaven. Why? We'll see this later, i wanna focus first on how to get there. Because as we said, Heaven is an actual place. But reaching it isn't very easy, especially if you're not dead. Also there's another MAIN issue: Dio isn't human. By rejecting his humanity through the stone mask he basically lost any little chance to ascend to Heaven, because believe it or not: vampires may have a soul, but they're damned. After death there's absolute nothing, no Hell either. Just this:

But Dio knew this well. His death was a temporary but necessary phase, he'll write about it in his journal (he simply wasn't expecting it to happen like THAT, sigh) and his plan is safe also thanks to an unexpected gift, a little trinket, that carries his consciousness and dna.

Let's recap Dio's instructions to get to Heaven:

-A trustworthy friend. “He must be someone who is not interested in political power, fame, wealth, or sexual desire, and who chooses the will of God before the law of humans.” I will talk about God a lot as ideal, but even if we have a tangible proof of saints existing in JJBA I still don’t wanna claim God’s existence as certain. We have Dio doubting it himself (“If God exists”) and sure there is a force ruling the events, but I have a quite different view on what this force actually is. Let’s continue;

-His stand, The World, and “courage”. “I must have the courage to destroy my Stand momentarily. As it disintegrates, my Stand will absorb the souls of the 36 sinners and will give birth to something utterly new.” -The souls of 36 humans who have sinned, “because those who havesinned harbor a strong power within.” It is said that we, humankind as a whole, are “sinners who need God’s grace” and that the true distinction between a bad person, worthy of going to Hell, and a good person, worthy of Heaven while being forgiven for their sins, resides in the ability to feel “regret” for their own actions. I believe the sinners being from the Green Dolphin street Prison’s lowest circle was providential: they’re all criminals who voluntarily rejected God, their soul already belongs to Hell. So why? There’s a deep symbolism in this.

The sinners are a reference to Dio’s past identity, the man who rejected humanity in favor of world domination (Actually not just that, but now it’s not the time for an in-depth analysis of Dio’s psyche). Such a person would never reach Heaven, right? Well, the key is in “regret”.

Exactly because Dio regretted his actions attaining Heaven it’s not impossible, just very difficult. We said he was gonna use the souls of sinners, but sinners go in the opposite direction, to Hell. So how is it possible? The trick is in the number: 36 has a double meaning. If we look at it mathematically, the sum of the integers from 1 to 36 is 666, the number of the Beast (and Dio was referred to as the Evil in opposition to the Good, with a name so contrasting to make everything even more interesting). On the other hand, 36 has also very positive meanings: the actual number of texts in Holy Scriptures is 36, it’s said that in every generation there are exactly 36 perfectly righteous people alive (we could easily also call them saints) and the world only continues to exist in their merit as they contain a spark of the Divine Light within them, that same light that first shone for 36 hours after its creation and before being replaced by the Sun… But most importantly, 36 has a meaning of rebirth. It’s two times 18, which carries the meaning of “life” (from the Hebrew letters that spell “chai”, meaning "living") so 36 translates into “two lives”. Thinking about it, it’s exactly what happens through the Green baby: Dio reincarnating as someone new, a new pure lifeform free from his sins, no more damned.

-The cryptic 14 phrases, engraved into The World, so that he couldn’t forget them. I believe these phrases carry Dio’s past but also his Future. Something that after his rebirth would let him not forget where he came from, but also remember where he’s going. Which is why they’re so important and spark a reaction in the Green Baby:

“Whatever is born will "awaken". It will show interest in the 14 words that my trusted friend will utter... My friend will trust me and I will become his "friend".” We’ll witness the first Gravity-induced fusion in the entire series, something that will become more familiar later in Jojolion.

-”Lastly, I need an appropriate location. North latitude, 28 degrees, 24 minutes, West longitude 80 degrees, 36 minutes. Go there and wait for the New Moon. That's when Heaven will come.” AND THIS, RIGHT HERE, IS WHERE WE START. The foundation of how Heaven, Gravity and Fate, Souls and Stands work in the Jojoverse. And also where things start being complicated. The best way to explain everything is starting from Pucci and his role in Dio's plan, then moving back to the first manifestation of Stands. As i said before, in PB the existence of God is in doubt because we don’t have any tangible proof, it's simply an idea sustained by faith. What if i tell you that God, as an actual figure, is actually a product of human actions and everything is governed by Gravity/Fate instead? We know that Dio and Pucci encounter was a product of Gravity, and so was their fusion: there's a reason why he tripped on him, of all people.

It's exact after this moment, when all left to do is "waiting for Heaven to come" that we get the first actual manifestation of the Divine: the recurrence of number 3.

Biblically, the number 3 represents Divine wholeness, completeness and perfection. If there ever was a desire to highlight an idea, thought, event or noteworthy figure for their prominence, the number 3 was used to put a Divine stamp of completion or fullfilment on the subject.

Now i'm not saying that Dio is God or became one (THAT would be interesting and i already valued the possibility some years ago), but seems like in the Jojoverse there's no room for coincidences and everything happens as planned by Destiny, so these 3 people being the sons of Dio and drawn to Pucci are exactly where they were meant to be. If God doesn't exist, this is still the proof of how Dio is getting closer to the ruling force of the Universe: Gravity. And through it, finally find happiness. So, we're waiting for Heaven and we have a very specific place where to go for make it happen. Cape Canaveral: the most optimal place to launch a rocket. But what does this have to do with Heaven? OH, MORE THAN YOU IMAGINE. Because it is a place. But i never said it was on Earth.

To understand our destination better, i wanna make a step back. Ecclesiastes 12:7 says “and the dust returns to the earth as it was, and the spirit returns to God who gave it.” We said we don’t have real evidence of God, but spirits DO go somewhere. Foo will say it clearly: the spirit/soul can’t stay on Earth for long, with the only exception of a sudden or tragic death, tying them to a specific place. In most cases, they have unfinished business as the deceased person does not accept the way in which they died (like Riemi or Kira and his father). But once this soul is freed, and if they're worthy, they all go in the same direction: up in the sky, welcomed by a very bright light.

Heaven is often described as the "highest place" and in the Scriptures, in both Hebrew (shamayim) and Greek (ouranos), it can be translated as "sky".

The first line of the Bible also states that Heaven is created along with the creation of the Earth (Genesis 1). SO. We're looking for a VERY bright something in the sky, created post Big Bang and as old as the entire Universe, which is also deeply subject to Gravity. I already have a very clear idea in mind, but let's also drag in the mix what Pucci knows: the World, a stand involved with the manipulation of TIME, was NECESSARY for reaching of the conditions to attain Heaven. Who's that pokemon? It's a Quasar!

An astronomical object of VERY high luminosity found in the centres of some galaxies and powered by gas spiraling at high velocity into an extremely large black hole. SO IS HEAVEN A QUASAR?!? Ahah no, but there, at its core, that's where our bus ticket is.

Quasars are some of the brightest objects known, able to outshine all the other stars and can be trillions of times brighter than the Sun. They were much more common when the universe was young, must have been able to form after the universe began to expand. But any simple one won't do, no. To find Heaven we must identify the first, oldest quasar in the Universe, which hosts a very peculiar and unique, primordial, supermassive black hole: the gate for true, unfettered happiness. I'll try to make this as simple as possible leaving out every superflous notion or math about general theory of relativity or we'll NEVER be able to get to the point. At the start i hinted to the possibility of going back in time. Yes and no, it's a bit more complicated than just press rewind but Pucci was right, it IS involved with attaining Heaven.

In astronomy, a black hole is a physical location of no return because Gravity is so strong that nothing -not even light- can escape. As you get closer to it, the flow of time slows down progressively to the extreme. From an outside viewpoint it's like time stops.

At its center, a black hole is thought to have a singularity point: a location where matter is compressed down to infinity and all conceptions of time and space completely break down. Some even call it "Reverse creation". But as we said, to reach Heaven we seek something way more specific.

As far as we know distant objects are seen as they existed in the past and quasars are the most distant and oldest that astronomers have been able to detect. The most distant quasars are seen at a time when the universe was one tenth its present age, roughly a billion years after the Big Bang. So we're not fully able to find our special primordial black hole, unless we have a way to get closer in a matter of time: Made in Heaven's ability to accelerate time to infinity through gravitational power manipulation will be providential in this. By moving back in time we get to reach and go over the Cosmic Microwave Background, a remnant from an early hot, opaque plasma stage post Big Bang and an evidence of it being the origin of the Universe, the beginning of time. We have zero knowledge of what's behind it as we can't observe it.

Assuming that Made in Heaven brings us there, what now? In the designed location, moving at infinite speed towards the singularity point of a black hole as old as the Universe itself, and with time SLOWING down once we meet the Singularity point, WHERE are we going? Incredibly, our answer can be found in the Book of the dead. In Ancient Egypt it was believed that the afterlife was a mirror image of life on Earth. Death was only a transition, not a completion, and opened the way to the possibility of eternal happiness. So let's consider this:

An entire universe behind a black hole, exactly like the one we know, but unaffected by the laws of Gravity as the Fate we know that keeps everyone in chains. Where a soul lives like any their normal life on Earth, but free to act outside any binary AND with the lack of the "Evil" that messed with their previous life, with the promise of a happy otherworldly existence. A chance of rebirth, staying true to yourself, but aware of mistakes you won't commit again. Now if this isn't Heaven i don't know what it is... It makes sense that through Made in Heaven only living organisms could reach such place, as the dead are already subject to the laws of Gravity in their predestined travel to either Hell or Heaven. But things got messed up by Pucci's intentions, as his stand ability is subject to his own belief, desires and psyche.

It is possible that "knowing your future in advace resulting in peace of mind and happiness" belief caused Pucci and Emporio to travel back in the course of Time jumping in a new world where destiny will repeat itself, hence the ability to see the nearest future as vision. And this is anywhere near to what truly Heaven is supposed to be. Happiness won't come from reviving your life exactly like it was (in fact the sole differences we spot are due the people that were already dead being replaced by their own version belonging to that world) but as we said it's the act of being FREE from the laws of Gravity. I believe this shift of intention is what caused Pucci's demise and Emporio's travel to a secondary parallel universe, hinting the existence of a multiverse where every world is connected to the others through the numerous black holes that reside in them. But neither of them would lead to the afterlife except for one. How much does this complicate things? Very.

Probably if Dio and Pucci were able to spend more time together, with Dio explaining better his view and belief, nothing of the canon timeline since before Pucci's death (his death included) would ever happen and everyone would be living their best life in Heaven. Or even better, if Dio were able to realize his plan before the events of part 3... (all the pain of SDC... gone, never existed. Sigh.)

Identifying Heaven as an Universe (including space and time, planets, stars, galaxies, all the forms of matter, energy, the souls of every creature and humanity) makes everything extremely interesting when we look at how the Jojoverse works.

Given that the gate for Heaven is a Quasar, it's known that sometimes they shoot out pairs of straight jets, containing matter moving close to the speed of light in a tight beam, to distances far beyond the galaxies they live in: how does this affect the worlds these beams reach?

For a start, we can assume that with Creation every living creature is born with a soul, that is shaped after the individual's choices, experience and psyche. In various religions it's attribuited to the Divine spark gifted by Gods. The references to light are so many that is difficult to call them a coincidence in a setting where "coincidence" isn't really something possible with Gravity's laws. Back to our matter escaped from Heaven, if it were to get in touch with a normal soul, we'd probably have an evolution reaction: natural born stand users.

I believe that the particles coming from Heaven, engaging with the soul that originated there, would trigger a violent reaction shaping the original soul into something more complex (and i would say dormant) that always belonged to the user. We'll learn with part 3 that not everyone has the spiritual strenght to bear this evolution, like when stands are induced later on. So are stand arrows involved too? The answer might surprise you.

Let's take a step back and move to the Poles, approximately 50k years ago, when a meteorite crash-landed on Earth around Cape York, Greenland and later on, in that same site, a misterious disease was found, leading to the creation of stand arrows 2to acquire the powers of Gods".

The fact everything happened at the poles is very relevant to this theory, especially a certain discovery. Let me introduce you to Neutrinos: a subatomic particle that is very similar to an electron, but has no electrical charge and a very small mass, it was almost believed they didn't have any at all. There are different types of neutrinos and they're the most abundant particles in the Universe, although very difficult to detect too. It is possible that a large fraction of the dark matter of the universe consists of primordial, Big Bang neutrinos.

The type that is relevant to us is high-energy cosmic neutrinos that are born in the CENTER of quasars, expulsed by jets and able to cross the Universe without interacting with matter and without any delays on their way. But at the Pole was found a particle that "shouldn't exist" shooting straight up out of the ice and seems to move straight back in direction of the quasar that originated it. Some scientists dared to call it "a ghost particle". Let's add this up to the evolution of the soul, the rules of Gravity and the guys that wanted to gain the power of a God: if the metallic material of the meteorite, infused with the ghost particle, were to come in contact with the organism where the souls resides... Did i already mention that they interact through Gravity?

Lastly, this whole system would give us a reasonable explanation for certain stand abilities, like Vanilla Ice's and Okuyasu's (being possibly connected to a black hole's singularity point, allowing them to destroy the matter they absorb with no turning back) or others, seen afterwards, capable to move objects or people through different dimensions and/or parallel worlds. Lastly, i wanna spend two words regarding Dio's resolve and why i firmly believe that he regretted his actions. Dio's a person who tends to live a lot in the past and lets it influence his future. I don't think though that his search for Happiness was meant for the whole humanity, like Pucci tried to achieve. Dio's wish was more selfish and limited to himself, perhaps to his trustworthy friend too, but nothing more. He sacrificed himself for something once, that didn't lead him to happyness as he might have thought at the start of Phantom Blood, but is ready to give up on everything a second time with no hesitation. No feelings of grandiosity or power, he recognized his mistakes and wanted to restart everything once again.

And maybe living a normal life for once. Who knows, maybe letting people be close to him without paranoid tendencies too... True, unfettered happines probably lies in the simplicity of conducting your life following your own decisions, and not Fate's. Or your abusive father's.

So this is Heaven. I know it's long, delirious at some traits and all, but i thought these corrispondences were neat and worth of being shared. So if you got till here and enjoyed it, thank you for your time!

[ladyduellist]

Epistles of Saints & Sinners

Chapter Summary:

Astarion's vampirism creates concern and he finds out information about his soul mate mark.

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

Story Summary:

When Astarion meets the humble bard, Tav, he soon finds out he's the only one between them that knows they are bound as soulmates through their marks. Deciding it's more trouble than its worth, he refuses to tell her along the course of their journey across Faerûn.

But, unbeknownst to him and their companions, Tav is harboring a gruesome secret that she only thought was nothing more than a traumatized period in her life.

As they both come to face to face with their pasts and presents, will they choose to move forward or let it consume them?

Healing isn’t linear—after all.

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

Chapter 4: Outliers

Ao3

Next Chapter

Previous Chapter

Main Page & Chapter List

Word Count: 3.6k

Pairing: Astarion x female bard Tav

CW: Language, Act 1 Spoilers

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

Istiks never seem to learn that their hearts always bring about their ruin. One must rip, shred, and tear their way through for the betterment of their kin. To hold bonds denotes weakness. To have compassion is a slow suicide. There are no gods to protect you. Emotions only serve to enslave you. I’d rather lead myself and my people into the pyre than let any of that fester inside.

— Lae’zel, meandering thoughts written on the back of a map

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

Tav awoke with two puncture wounds staring at her in the face.

The blood clotted overnight, leaving droplets of leftover residue near the fang marks of Astarion's thirst. As she sat up, her head felt noticeably woozy and the length of her forearm felt bruised. She touched it gingerly, recalling the moment he pulled her towards him in the heat of his heightened hunger while he latched onto her wrist.

She placed her face in her hands and groaned. Gods, whatever was she thinking last night?

Right. Astarion had her thoroughly enthralled. The tadpole connections were a mistake for that reason alone: the ability to look into another’s mind, to see their secrets untamed, and feel all those emotions together. And with what had transpired, it had left quite the effect on her.

The images he had shown her were so brutal—so full of suffering—Tav thought maybe she understood just one equation that made up the countless formulas that created this vampire into the man he was in the present. She wondered if his dramatic theatrics may be a performance, a front to hide the torment he had experienced over the course of his undead life. Only, he revealed to her a side that kept her head on a swivel. When he entered her tent and asked ordinary questions about her life to ease her anxiety about him biting her and then afterwards when he took the liberty to lay her down on her roll safely, Astarion had been tender.

But, which version of him was the real one—if any at all?

Yet, there was still an infinite amount of revelations the bard didn’t know about him. Would he begin to trust her with those in due time? Or would the practiced Casanova would sink further into velvet pillows, surrounded by chalices of blood and other pleasures, that could never be the tonic to truly heal him. Hells, what about her fully trusting him beyond the surface she materialized? Was that even a possibility?

He had to have her, so he drank. And on the seventh day, her heart started to resurrect.

Lest she ignore those lustful thoughts she couldn’t fetch away with a pail to bury into the sands of the ocean. One touch from him was all it took for her to be at his beck and call. It was troubling to be at the whims of a man within a short time period of their introductions. To be at the whims of a man at all.

She rubbed at her temples. He will harm you, Tavelle. The more pieces of your heart that he wades through, the easier it will be for him to weaponize what you hold most dear. This isn’t uncommon to you. Do not let your benevolence expose yourself any further, else the path is laid with punishment.

Everything was disconcerting. Uncertain. Perilous. Tav’s mistakes with Astarion were adding up. She had now allowed him access to her body, blood, and specks of cloaked frailty that she had tied over and over again with twine, binding her tightly from others doing no harm. Nobody else in recent years had managed to disarm her with such a disposition of their character like he did.

Tav’s eyes watered, her lips warm and flushed out of inner anguish. But, maybe that’s what you deserve? For all your wrongdoings. For not having the proper strength in the past to assert yourself. You sickened Algos, why not the others? You’re gloomy and sensitive. If you don’t stay one step ahead, everyone will know. Maybe you should endure this over and over again because deep down, you know the truth: you hate yourself.

She pushed out a long shaky puff of air through her lips, quietly delivering a speech to herself. “No. That isn’t true. You’re worth more than that. You’re a good woman that is deserving of a love that feels safe. Of kindness. A soft and healing kind of love. Not just romantically, but love in all ways. You deserve your peace.”

Convincing her heart that the gnawing twinge wasn’t real when it came to Astarion, would only mar her in the long run. Because here’s the deal: she was starting to care about him. Vigilance in keeping her relationship with him as an established friendship had to become one of her priorities—for her own sake before he became a weakness she couldn’t control.

To thine own self stay true.

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

“Good morning. How are you feeling?” Astarion whispered, nimbly catching the pack that had fallen off of Tav’s shoulder midair.

“Thank you." A quirky chuckle passed as she took the bag from him and secured it tightly around her shoulders. "I'm a bit groggy. But, I’ll manage.”

Astarion could hear the quickening of her heartbeat, much like it sounded when her wrist was under his moistened lips the previous night. By the mercy of her sweet essence, he couldn’t stop thinking about how incredible she tasted. A sinful mixture of ambrosia and the sugary tart secretions of her slit he could smell. The coppery taste was still idly hiding in the pockets of spaces between his teeth. Every so often, the swipe of his wettened tongue would touch one of the spots where her blood resided and the juxtaposition of his arousal would intrude.

”Let’s be fortunate, I'm not a true vampire. One bite from them and you could wake up as a vampire spawn—like my good self. All of their hunger, but very few of their powers.”

Tav turned her neck to the side, her brow knitted in confusion. “How are you able to stand in the sun? Is it because you’re not a full vampire?”

He stretched out his arm, moving branches out of the way for them as they careened through a dense growth of bushes. “No. I should have become ash in the sunlight. I hadn’t seen the sun for over two centuries before the mind flayers captured us.”

“Two centuries…I can imagine it must have come as a shock to you then.”

“Yes, well, apparently the rules have been changed.” The infliction in his voice rose excitedly. “Standing in the sun, wallowing through a river, entering homes without an invitation—they’re all perfectly mundane activities now.”

Tav beamed at him with one of her frequent amiably smiles Astarion noticed she typically presented. She listened so intently to him without uttering so much as a single sound, that he could have mistaken her for the dense-minded variety. And it wasn't only on this occasion, it was each time they spoke. He didn't believe she was doing it because she was actually interested in anything he had to tell her, more so, that she was being attentive to be polite and possibly gain something from it later—much like every single victim he had slept with.

“So, we’re traveling with a vampire? Of COURSE we are. I must warn you, I taste awful,” Gale interrupted with heavy sarcasm.

Astarion grinned, bowing his head as he noticed their companions had been listening to his conversation with the bard. “Now, now, I swear on this unbeating heart of mine that I will behave and not surprise any of you with a midnight nibble—unless you’d like one, of course. How does that sound?”

Shadowheart shrugged. “We’re all monsters in the making as far as I’m concerned. Just keep your distance from our necks—else we put a bell on you to dissuade you from hunting in our camp.”

Lae’zel didn’t offer much in the way of words, instead giving him a fierce warning. “Any fangs at my neck and I’ll gut you without so much as a thought, vamp.”

Tav moved to stand in between Astarion and the group, her hands placed firmly on her hips and voice composed. "I trust him; he will not harm us. We came to an agreement last night that when his hunger arises, if I am able, I will let him drink my blood. Otherwise, he has permission to sup from wild animals, our enemies, but no innocents.”

Astarion squinted his eyes in a befuddling expression. What in the bloody hells is she doing lying to them?

“What? I mean, yes, of course, we spoke at great lengths about how our gallant songbird will become my personal bloodbag. You have nothing to fear.”

Survival. That was all that mattered to him. Yet, this elven woman dared to jeopardize the burgeoning relationships she was forming with the others to offer him protection? How idiotic. Surely, she would inquire about what she was getting out of all this in return. Oh, and he would provide! He would take her along the edge of the river’s flowing waters and bait the crickets to set the mood with the violin of their legs as he wrote the alphabet of their common language with his tongue on her skin.

Yes, the gears were steadfastly spinning around inside his head as if they had just been thoroughly oiled. Gods above, the sweetest of dalliances this would be! Delightful!

Recite thy prayers in earnest and receive the saliva of his want. Blessed art thou amongst the music of the night, for thou shall inherit his bite.

Gale’s eyes darted from the vampire’s face to Tav’s wrist. He appeared bothered as he reached out, abruptly grabbing her forearm, the fresh wounds on display. “You let him bite you already?! Without warning the rest of us first?! Did you not think about how reckless that was, Tav?!”

“It was my decision to make, Gale. I already told you all that I trusted him. I would never have put any of you in danger,” Tav replied firmly, trying to shake his grip from her.

“No wonder you smelled like him this morning,” the human man muttered under his breath.

With the lucidity of his innate roguish movements, Astarion’s hand appeared around the wizard’s arm, clasping with his full strength. “Surely, you have finer mannerisms than some garish jealous sod. Or has all that time cooped up in your magic tower made you forget how to treat a lady?”

Gale pursed his mouth together, giving a final displeased look to Tav before releasing her. He stalked ahead with the other two women towards Emerald Grove that was now within view.

“I thought so,” Astarion sneered.

Tav lost her footing and fell back against Astarion’s chest with a gentle thud from the accidental force of Gale’s seizure. His hands flew to rest carefully on either side of her waist to steady her. She took a deep shaky breath, then spun her body around to face him.

With the balletic of her touch, she removed his hands, giving them a soft squeeze. “I—thank you. And I’m sorry. I probably should have been more considerate of everyone’s feelings over the matter before I let you drink from me. Gale and I will need to have a serious discussion soon over a few matters.”

Astarion flashed his fangs apathetically. “Whatever you need to do, my dear. I’m surely not going to lose any minutes of meditation over it.”

“By the by, I meant what I said earlier. It would certainly ease everyone’s worries to follow those boundaries. Only until they become more comfortable around you.” The side of her lip timidly receded in the center of her teeth. “I also don’t mind if you wish to continue to feed on my blood either, if—well, if that’s what you want of course. Just don’t go around randomly biting anyone.”

She—huh. He was mildly astounded, yet grateful for her offering to his stead. “I wouldn’t want to renege on our agreement, darling. Besides, I couldn’t imagine anyone’s flavor being comparable to yours. I can’t wait to eat you right up," Astarion gravelly laughed as he soothingly rubbed around the marks on her wrist.

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

Astarion was irritated.

Nettie, the local druidic healer, proved to be of little help in aiding them with a cure for their worms. She insisted they coat their innards with a concocted vial of wyvern toxin the precise moment they sensed ceremorphosis changing them. Oh, but she certainly knew how to win over Tav with that pitiful sulk!

But, what really REALLY fabricated the aggrievement within the pit of his stomach, was Tav’s altruistic nature towards damned near everyone they came into contact with. It wasn’t enough that they were already on a suicide mission—with gods know how much time they had left to control the tadpoles—but now, she suggested they be a personal servant to nearly every blasted request they received.

”Save our Archdruid Halsin from those capricious goblins,” they beseeched. 

"You’re strong. Capable. With the strength of the Absolute on the rise and the commonality of your tadpoles, only YOU can help us!" they cried out.

And the catch? The pockets of their purses hardly graced with a suitable reward and the promise of maybes that this Halsin could help them.

“We don’t even know if the druid is still alive! Yet, you want us to be saviors for this—this—stranger as if it is owed to him. Really, sweetheart, your martyrdom is inscrutable, ” Astarion commented callously.

Tav crossed her arms over her chest, undeniably patient as Astarion haughtily voiced his concerns. “I’m not asking anything of you, Astarion. You have a choice. What do you want to do?”

What kind of an absurd question was that?! He pondered. What he wanted. Preposterous.

“Ah yes, when you put it like that, the answer is so clear! I can either help, remain in camp, or travel on my own since the other weirdos in our group have already given into your sirenic charms," he said, counting off the options on his fingers in frustration.

Druid’s Grove was proving to be a disaster by Astarion’s observation. Helpless tieflings in every corner crying about the plight of their situation. Then, the druids seemed almost radicalized to rid their home of the migrants, that they were endlessly trying to recruit him and his companions to do damage control. Not to mention any residents that did reside there already, were so obsessed with the novelties of protecting the natural world and...gods be fucked, was that bear dung he just stepped in?

Lest he not forget about that Wyll Ravenguard stray they picked up: the Blade of Frontiers himself. It wasn’t that Wyll wasn’t a welcome addition to their court—he was a powerful monster hunter—but that damnable bard didn’t even bat an eyelash when she decided to ask him to join. Yes, he had a tadpole as well, but he was on a personal mission to find some archdevil’s soldier called Karlach. And she, once again, faithfully volunteered to be thrown into the fray to face down a fiend of Avernus.

“Have you forgotten about the crèche Lae’zel spoke about? I don’t know why we haven’t already headed in that direction. A mystery indeed,” the spawn added critically.

“There is truth to that which he speaks. Had we not decided to aid these ishtiks, we would be closer to where my kin was last seen. That weak tiefling, Zorru, mentioned seeing a red dragon flying low by the bridges leading into the mountains,” Lae’zel stated while she cleaned the edge of her sword. “We must meet with the Kith’rak as soon as possible.”

Wyll, in all his wondrous ability to wax a sensible demeanor, addressed the disagreement. “With much due respect, I have a duty to find the Advocatus Diaboli first before we leave the area.”

All witnessing eyes were fixed on Tav, as if she were the town harlot walking up to the altar to confess her impurities. No matter the commandments she gathered, they awaited her with the scarlet trumpet of judgment blown by a winged creature to embroider upon her back.

The normal paleness of Tav’s skin shed itself to reveal a reddish hue. She seemed crestfallen by the coming and going of her complex expression. “Okay," she breathed out.

Then, the songstress promptly left the conversation as if she had mistakenly stumbled upon it. Her plait swished down her back as she walked in the opposite direction where they were having their heated discussion.

Astarion wasn’t sure he should have been shocked or amused by the brashness of her actions.

⸺⋘✤⋙⸺

“Ah, so that is where you’ve been? Sneaking off to enjoy the pleasures of lyricism while the rest of us are disposed to play musical chairs to your noble commitments," Astarion openly barked.

The rogue had been throwing knives at a nearby tree along the breaches of the camp when he noticed Tav rounding the pathway, lute in hand, strolling with Alfira by her side. She did not pay him mind until after she hugged the tiefling, bidding her adieu with quiet words of encouragement.

Tav walked towards the tree to retrieve the knives sticking snugly in the bark, a visible frown forming shortly after the bardling departed. “I apologize I left so suddenly, but I needed some time to breathe in order to figure out what our next move should be. The talks became overwhelming fast.”

Astarion took the knives from her, lining one up with his sight to throw at the trunk. With one eye closed, he watched as the tip of the blade left his fingertips and embedded itself precisely into the bullseye of the bark he picked to hit.

“Our next move? Ha! I have to wonder where that mind of yours wanders off to sometimes," he scorned, melodramatically animating his hands. "It amazes me that the torch that was passed to you gets doused because you decided to rest on your laurels when things got complicated."

The marking behind his ear began to pulse wildly as if it had a beating heart of its own. He touched it delicately with his fingertips, bading it to calm itself. 

This cursed thing only reacts when she's around. Frankly, what an inconvenience. It’s not as if she were my... No. No. NO. NO. NO, he deliberated erratically inside his brain.

Astarion stared unblinking at Tav, his red eyes wide like cherry pies. Her voice was static as her lips moved; each word jumbled and fuzzy. Those tempest eyes, usually unwavering in her dreadful kindness, now a mixture of hurt and annoyance.

“…what?”

She bit at her lip. “I said, what wrongs have I done to warrant this venom? I had no desire to be the leader, yet it was appointed to me anyways. I am nothing more than a bard that has studied the rapier my entire life. There is nothing special about me, yet you—”

Astarion needed to escape. Push her away from him. “Honestly, your decorum as our ‘leader’ could do with some improvement since you seem content with leading us to the butcher’s rack.”

“Have I not tried to pursue everyone’s input despite my polarity in the face of some of those subjects? I have never forced or manipulated a single one of you to bend to the wills of my heart. You’ve ALWAYS had a choice.”

He watched her behavior for any signs that she knew he possessed the same marking she did. Was that area on her arm where she scratched the location of the mark? Or was it on the dip in her hip where she placed her hand confidently?

He felt a bubbling sickness in his stomach. Wait, does she not know? How could she not know?

And then, the final poison spewed from his throat. A deflective acidic stream that he knew would damage her good nature and protect himself from her. “I see now my expectations of you were misplaced. If we all start to transform, it will be because of your bleeding heart you can't seem to balance out.”

Tav’s eyes welled up with angered tears.

“I didn’t mean—” he began.

“Yes, you did! What is this truly about, Astarion? Please help me to understand because I sure as hells don’t deserve this treatment from you of all people. And I absolutely don’t deserve this from someone that calls themselves my friend,” she pleaded sternly.

Then, it suddenly dawned on Astarion: he hadn’t had a friend in over 200 years. Tav was right, this wasn’t how friends acted. His “siblings” were also slaves to the same master and not exactly individuals he would refer to so intimately. He hadn’t spent more than a single night with anyone outside of the Crimson Palace for centuries, and now, he had been thrown into these stranger's arms for over a week. He was terrified.

Astarion knew how to be a lover—how to deceive and convince people to do as he pleased—but could he learn how to be a friend if only for the sake of protection? He wasn’t even sure he understood what that meant anymore or what it entailed.

Another mistake.

This bard, with her penchant for compassion and blood that would ensnare him to his grave over and over again, was driving him into madness. It wasn’t his fault he was thrown off his accustomed position that usually had the upper hand. He wasn’t to blame for any of it.

“Gods! I don’t know—I just—don’t expect me to go out of my way to save anyone.”

But, he did know.

He knew each time she asked his opinion about a situation.

He knew when she warm heartedly asked him about what he wanted.

He knew every morning he woke up and bathed with the sun’s beams cradling his face.

Astarion knew that he was still half bound in perdition to his master, while the other half was granted ablution for a fresh start in life.

And recently, he knew his soulmate was the elven bard standing in front of him named Tavelle Swiftchoir and he couldn’t have been more disappointed.

[the-smut-analyst]

Woah. Disney got dark, bro.

5 deliciously dark and smutty Disney retellings that will send you straight to hell.

You're welcome.

This blog post includes Amazon Affiliate links. Always check trigger warnings before reading. Your mental health is important <3

1. A Ship of Bones & Teeth by Karina Halle

Ever wondered how different the Little Mermaid might have gone if Ariel was a man-eating siren?

Well, then have I got the rec for you...

I'm not exaggerating about the man-eating thing, by the way. In Karina Halle's version of Siren lore, they quite literally eat the hearts of men.

And yes.

This does occur on page.

Instead of being a re-telling of the Little Mermaid and Prince Eric falling in love, A Ship of Bones & Teeth instead transports us 10 years into their marriage - where things ain't looking so dandy for the reformed siren and her royal beau.

Turns out that (surprise, surprise) our protagonist, Maren (aka Ariel 2.0: Heart-Eating Edition), kind of regrets leaving the sea behind. Especially since Prince Eric turned out to be an abusive deadbeat who only liked her when she didn't have a voice.

But then Captain Ramsay "Bones" Battista enters the chat.

Alongside his notorious crew, Captain Bones commandeers the royal ship, and takes Maren as a prisoner. (And that's when things start getting better down where it's wetter, if ya know what I mean).

If you like your characters morally grey, your male leads with a bit of swagger, and your smut with a light dose of bondage - then add this book to your TBR.

Available for purchase here.

2. Luxuria by Colette Rhodes

Ever wondered how much more fun Beauty and the Beast might have been if Beauty had a serious monster kink?

Well then, look no further...

Far from the standard whiny, blushing bride that often accompanies the arranged marriage trope, Ophelia likes what she likes - and owns it.

And what she likes above all else is Shades - aka the "shadow demons" she was raised to kill by her family of Hunters. Yup. This version of Beauty has a serious monster kink.

So when a peace treaty is eventually brokered between the Hunters and the Shades - and part of that peace treaty involves sending a bride to the Shadow Realm to marry the king - Ophelia is like...

But instead of all her monster-banging fantasies coming true, Ophelia husband isn't interested. He's grumpy, suspicious, and does his best to intimidate his new wife every chance he gets.

Little does the King of Shades realise, however, that Ophelia is totally into all the snarling and growling. Instead of being scared, she's actually like...

It's a bit of a slow-burn to start, but once King Allerick realises that the scent his new wife keeps giving off is actually her arousal, not her fear? Well... Let's just say the slow-burn turns into a full-on forest fire.

If you like books that make you laugh out loud, your smut on the kinky and consensual side of the Omegaverse, and your male leads to be more monster than man - then this is the perfect book for you.

Available for purchase here.

3. Velvet Cruelty by Eve Dangerfield

Ever watched Snow White and thought about how much better it would have been if, instead of seven dwarves, we got multiple hunter characters instead?

Well then, fret not, cause Ms. Dangerfield's got you covered with...

This Snow White retelling does not hold back. It is brutal, seductive, and decadent.

This one's not for the faint of heart. The themes and the sexual content is dark as hell. Like, it puts the dark in dark. Fans of the Saints & Sinners Duet, or fans of Mafia Romance in general, probably won't blink an eye - but for anyone new to this sinful little corner of the romance section - proceed with caution.

Seriously. This is a code red: dead dove do not eat situation.

Unlike a lot of "why choose" romance, there's no skimming in terms of character development and complexity here. The four "hunters" are awful but - in typical Eve Dangerfield style - they're also damn interesting. This author is genuinely brilliant at weaving complex, unique characters that draw you in.

If you like your romance dark as hell, with villainous love interests and a generous smut-to-plot ratio, then give Velvet Cruelty a try.

Available for purchase here.

4. Escaping Wonderland by Tiffany Roberts

Ever wondered how you might feel if the Mad Hatter and Cheshire Cat characters were blended to make a crazy-yet-kinda-hot hybrid?

Alright, maybe not.

But regardless, I am here to present exactly that...

Let's face it. Alice in Wonderland is probably the one Disney movie that really didn't need to get more messed up. It's already a thinly-veiled acid trip as is. However, if you can count on anyone to throw in a bit more dark and twisted (ya know, just for fun) then its the writing duo that make up Tiffany Roberts.

The smut in this book actually isn't too out there (aside from the fact that the love interest is basically a humanoid cat). What makes this retelling especially dark though is its themes.

In Escaping Wonderland, Wonderland itself is actually a medically induced hallucination. One that psychiatric patients are subjected to against their will, until they eventually lose their grip on reality.

If these themes aren't a trigger for you, then I'd highly recommend giving Escaping Wonderland a try. It's the perfect romance for readers who enjoy when sci-fi and fantasy intersect, as well as for readers who don't mind a bit of monster in their male protagonists.

Available for purchase here.

5. Titan by Jillian Graves

Did you ever watch the Hunchback of Notre Dame and think that those gargoyles were a bit of alright?

Well then, hold my beer...

Yes, you read that correctly. This is a Daddy-DOM romance featuring a wealthy gargoyle. Don't judge me. Only the Lord can do that and I've already burned that bridge.

I gotta admit, before this book I avoided the daddy kink like the plague. But now I consider myself a convert. Now I am more like...

Titan also gets bonus pun for the series title. I mean... Romancing His Stone?!?!

Brilliant. 10 pun points for Gryffindor.

If you like books that are kinky and consensual, include some well-thought-out world-building, and that are sex worker positive to boot, then walk, don't run - Jillian Graves has got you covered.

Available for purchase here.

Hope you enjoyed this smutty Disney list. I'll meet you all in hell!

[everlastingdreams]

The Weeping Monk x Reader : Born In The Dawn Chapter 6

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Story Summary: Locked inside a dark room in a dungeon, kept alive only for your power, you believed you’d never see the daylight again. That is until the Weeping Monk finds his way down and steals you from your captors. It is the beginning of a journey that leads you through hardship and newfound hope, but nothing is assured in a world that is changing for the Fey. The magic that runs in your veins is drawing out the worst the world has to offer, does it include the man who pulled you from the dark?

Chapter Title:  Sinners And Saints

Notes: /

Warnings: Violence. Torture. !!!Sexual Assault. Rape Threat!!. Gore. Enemies To Lovers. Pining. Trauma. Flagellation. Manipulation. Strong Language. Blood. Gore?. Misogyny. PTSD. Spicy and smut parts. Slight redemption arc.

Other warnings: Jealousy. Forbidden Love. Romance. Slow-burn…

Word count of this fic: +190K

Chapter:  6/ It’s a secret.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

A week went by, and every day the Monk would leave something in your room for you to eat, just enough to keep you healthy to ‘serve your purpose’.

A whole damn week of paladins with their bigoted remarks, and their filthy paws that often tried to touch you. But it seemed that after you had broken the nose of one off them, the others got more apprehensive. When healing them in the infirmary, the Monk was almost always present. Was it out of precaution that you would flee again, or was he seriously trying to keep his red brothers in line?

Still, you knew there was no one to be trusted among these men.

Tonight the sound of the door unlocking was something you had gotten used to, you kept your eyes on the ceiling of the room while laying flat down on the bed, hands behind your head to relax.

Usually you ignored the Monk when he walked in to place something to eat inside the room, tonight was the same.

It was the faint whispers in your ears that, almost politely, urged you to look at him.

There was a tremble in his hand when he placed down a bowl of soup near the door and he looked quite pale, like a fever had taken hold on him.

“You look horrible.” You hid your nosiness under the insult.

Exactly how he physically felt now that the wound you had inflicted on his arm days ago was infected.

It was the lack of response that brought you to your feet. “What happened to you? Met your match in battle? I hope they were Fey.”

A scoff fell. “They were.”

“Good.” You crossed your arms over your chest.

His hand rested on the doorknob. “I could stop bringing you meals.”

The threat was empty to you. “You could. And then your red brothers will die of their illnesses and injuries because I won’t have the strength to heal them.”

He did not expect the threat to be matched with one of your own. The Monk mumbled something you couldn’t hear and left the room.

You went and picked up the soup, it was cold, great.

After drinking it to the very last drop, you tried to sleep and found your mind filled with thoughts of the past. The cold nights in the dungeon, the warm ones at home when things were still alright.

The shouting between your parents the night you had ultimately decided to leave, the plea of your cousin for you to stay.

And then there was Squirrel, the boy who had reminded you so much of your young cousin that it had broken your heart again to be seperated from him.

The moon cast a small streak of light on the wall and you raised your hand to form shadows, it entertained you long enough to tire your eyes out and fall asleep.

It wasn’t even dawn when paladins came to collect you from the room. Three of them dragged you to the infirmary where one of their brothers was waiting. Blood was gushing out of his stomach, your own twisted at the sight of it.

They were anything but polite in their demand that you heal him. You wanted to get it over and done with, before you lost your stomach’s content at the sight.

Luckily, it did not drain you from your energy completely. The only thing you had was nausea. They bound your wrists again, not taking any chances.

Two of the others took hold of your arms again and dragged you out of the infirmary, another followed.

They did not go in the direction of the room, were they ordered to bring you to Father Carden or the Monk?

Another door was opened and you prepared yourself mentally to heal another.

But the room was empty…

The second the door was shut behind you, fear wrapped itself around your heart.

While the other two held you under control, the other was eager to try and take advantage of the situation.

The paladin got close, too close.

You felt his hand go right under your bodice and shirt.

There was no time to let shock take hold, you resisted strongly against their plans.

They had to use all their strength to keep you still.

“Let go off me!” You shouted with fury.

The bastard was quick to cover your mouth. “Be quiet, Fey whore!”

To prevent you from making another sound, he pulled a piece of cloth from the satchel hanging at his side and gagged you with it.

You did not stop fighting against the hold they had on you.

Those red drapes got you down to the floor, they pinned your arms down above your head.

The moment that rotten bastard was within reach, you kicked as hard as you could and hit him in the lower abdomen.

Then you bit the hand of one who held you down, who withdrew his hand when it drew blood.

The other one was not strong enough to hold you down on his own. It was a matter of seconds before you had hit him and sprung to your feet, bolting out the door.

The despair crashed into you when you could not even make it out the door without getting caught by the Monk., the cloth in your mouth muffled any sound you made.

He was quick to piece it all together.

None of these men had been wounded, they had taken you out of the room without notifying him, and now you ran out of this room distraught.

The cloth was removed from your mouth instantly by him.

It was no use fighting against him as he pulled you back into the room alongside him and he put you in a corner of it.

His red brothers took a step back, cowering before him.

“How dare you?” His tone was deadly when speaking to them, “In our place of worship!”

Not a single one said a word.

You could feel the tension rise between them and realized you had never seen the Monk so furious before.

“Speak!” His voice struck the room like lightning.

A series of stutters and stammers fell from them, empty apologies and excuses.

The knuckles of his hand turned white, fingers clenched around the pommel of his sword. “A long fasting will show your remorse. And a cleansing of the scourge for a week. Get out!”

The cowards hurried out of the room, none of them dared to look at his face now.

It wasn’t until the last one was out of sight that he let his weakened state show. The whole ordeal had almost made you forget that he was running a fever.

The Monk had gone paler than before and had to put a hand on the wall for support.

It would be easier to steal a weapon now and bolt, but he had just helped you…

You reached out and took hold off his arm.

Quick as a whip, he had you pinned against the wall, clearly he was not weak enough to not defend himself if you were to try to steal his weapons again.

Even though he had a hand wrapped around your throat, you didn’t let go off his arm and stubbornly healed him like your intention had been.

His eyes dropped to where you held his arm, a frown creased his forehead.

He felt the wound on his arm stop burning and the fever retreat.

Confusion mixed with curiosity in his eyes.

That look lasted until you felt the echo of his illness in your own body and momentarily lost your footing.

The Monk sensed it coming and caught you when you fell into his chest.

You felt miserable, like the infection was in your own veins now.

He was baffled. “You healed me…”

To distract from the fact that this Monk was the only thing between you and hitting the floor, you announced your disappointment over the soup, “The next time you get me soup, it better not be cold.”

His palm hovered over your back. “The cook prepared more today.”

Oh?

Was…was that an offer?

You mumbled the question tiredly, “What else did he prepare?”

He cracked a smirk, something you did not see, “Hungry?”

It wasn’t something you liked to admit, so you kept quiet and tried to regain your balance as best as you could.

The Monk let you push yourself away to stand alone without his help.

When he noticed that some of the hem of your shirt was stuck under your bodice, he slowly gestured to it and saw you flinch.

It was a pure recoil, mere moments ago that paladin had put his hand there and you could still feel it.

He fell silent and kept his hands to himself.

Had he done this truly because those paladins were committing a sin within a monastery? It could not be that the Weeping Monk had compassion for a Fey…

Was this all part of a plan to have you be more pliable?

Still, perhaps he had some morals.

“You’re not so despicable… for a traitor.” You did not want him to think that you would trust him after this.

His eyes narrowed at you, then he nearly rolled them. “Come. I believe a meal will better your mood.”

“I am not having a mood.” You said, feeling your empty stomach fight you on this.

He ignored it. “Some soup. Warm this time.”

You knew he was ignoring the look of suspicion aimed at him.

But your stomach growling embarrassingly loud made it impossible to deny your hunger. “When Father Carden leaves for the mission again, will I be brought along?”

“Planning your next escape?” He asked.

Dammit…

“No. I just want to know.” You lied.

It was clear he didn’t believe it, there was not a fleck of trust.

He was feeling well enough to trust in his ability to keep you from bolting off and lead you to the room by the ropes around your wrists.

You were steered into the room first, he followed and shut the door behind him.

To be alone with him after that, felt uncomfortable.

It was like he could sense it and he remained at the door while you stepped further into the room.

He folded his hands behind his back. “You will travel with us, wherever we go. We need you present near Father at all times.”

It slipped off your tongue without a thought, “Afraid the old man’s going to kick the bucket?”

It was the tensing in his jaw that gave away how much he was trying to ignore the comment.

You bit your lip, trying not to grin.

After a short silence, he inquired, “What was life like for you, before I found you in that dungeon?”

Your brow arched. “Are you hoping I will tell you that I lived in a camp filled with Dawn Folk?”

Clever.

“I didn’t.” You swiped that off the table. “I was trying to survive like the rest. One day while I was trying to catch a fish with my sword, the Brothers captured me.”

His questions continued to come, “How long were you in that dungeon?”

The memory of the darkness you must have spend weeks in was a bitter one. “Long enough to not want to be reminded of it.”

He got closer, slowly circling you. “How did they know of your power? There are no Fey marks on you, none that I can see.”

You froze completely when feeling his hand touch the side of your neck.

When his other touched the other side, he explained what he was doing, “I am searching you for markings. Wings that have been cut, scars behind your ears…”

While he named some, he made you tilt your head to the side to feel and look behind your ears.

“I have no markings that can just be seen. Unlike you.” You fixed your gaze to the ceiling, having heard of the routine inspection the Monk had to search for Fey signs on people.

He made a motion of his hand, you understood and turned around.

You noted how he was careful to just use the pads of his fingers and not all of his hand to inspect your back.

Through the leather of your bodice, you doubted he could feel a thing, which became obvious when he cleared his throat.

“What?” You knew what he would say, but you would also make him spit it out before you’d ever make it easy for him.

“The leather…” The Monk struggled to say it, especially after what had happened with his red brothers.

“What about it?” You rolled your eyes.

He took the rope off your wrists, then held out his hand and gestured to the bodice. “It will only take a moment.”

Ugh.

Was this what so many Fey and people spoke off?

With an annoyed groan, you began to undo the laces that kept it closed. “That’s the only way you’ll ever get to see a woman undress.”

You showed your anger by throwing the leather at his chest, he caught it and still had some of it smack into him.

He ignored the snide remark and held on to the bodice while using his free hand to inspect your back.

The shirt was thin enough for him to do so more easily and it lasted for tree counts, then he stepped away and handed you back the leather.

You snatched it from his hands and put it on again. “Anything else you want to grope, or?”

The Monk was trying and failing to ignore what was being said. “I would not need to inspect you, if you told me more about the Dawn Folk.”

Your tone grew cold, “Why would I tell you anything? Besides, I don’t see you running around telling everyone here what your clan is.”

With persistence he hoped to drag the truth out. “Do you have family?”

A deathly glare was aimed at him. “No.”

His head tilted ever so slightly. “You are lying.”

Shit.

It was the self-satisfied smirk on his face that told he had gotten the information that he wanted.

He walked to the door and before leaving he said, “I will bring the soup tonight.”

Seeing him smirk bothered you to no end. “Go to hell.”

Why did it appear to entertain him to see you so vigilant?!?

He was so quick to brush it off as if it was nothing and he left.

You would need to be more careful if you did not want to spend the rest of your days fleeing from the Weeping Monk.

Taglist:

@ourlazydetectivekitten​​ @the-great-adventures-of-me​ @linkpk88​​  @fxrchxldws​​  @elenaoftheturks​​ @slytherlight​​ @beananacake​​    @crystallizedtime​​  @moonlightaura03​​  @angrygardendeer​​  @have-aheart​​   @5am-cigarette​​ @arcanenature​​  @thewinterskywalker​​ @notyourwildestdream​​ @coloursforyourportrait​​ @koressecretidentity​​ @nike90​​ @n1ghtlux​​ @rachlovesactors​​ @luckyzipperscissorsbat​​ @morena-doing-stuff​​  @the-fangirl-diaries​​ @gipsydanger17​​ @heavenly1927​​  @phantasmalbeiing  @labyrinthonmymind  @asarcastic-thiamstan​​  @rainyv-skies @kissingandromeda @stclairesplace​​

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist of this story.

[thecameronchronicles]

Darling

TW: Smut. Language. Soft/Slight Sub Rafe. Soft Dom Rafe. 

SUMMARY: After running into Rafe’s ex, he realizes how much this affects you and makes it his mission to ensure you understand what you mean to him. 

WORD COUNT: 1400

*Requested*

Darling

Sofia. You’d heard her name at least half a million times as being the ‘girl before you’. The girl that Wheezie got along with so well she was like a sister. The girl that shared clothes, and secrets, with Sarah, and both Rose and Ward saw as being their son’s future. This was what got to you most as you entered the restaurant and she made her way over to you. Unfortunately for you,the fact she was a resident of Outer Banks meant you saw her quite often, even if it was usually from afar, as she ran in the same circles as you and Rafe, but always managed to evade her until tonight. 

“And this is Sofia-” As if you needed an introduction to the pristine girl standing before you, strong Latina roots making her exotic among those making up your shared group of friends; eyes of a vixen but features so angelic she promised the contrast of both saint and sinner. But you would try to maintain as much composure as possible despite the way she discussed her accolades so casually, even making it a point to trace Rafe’s arm every chance she could. It made your expression sour and fall weak with his hand over yours only worsening this as you knew he could sense this and yet did nothing to deter her as she would continue. 

“Actually, we’re going to head out, but…thanks…”

“Not even one dance for old time's sake?” She asked, that sultry voice pulling even Ward into her invitation as you repressed the tears in your eyes as you excused yourself to the bathroom before they cascaded down your cheeks. You would manage to escape in the nick of time before the door opened behind you. 

“Oh poor girl…if you can’t handle a little competition…how do you expect to handle him?” Her eyes descended you for a moment as your eyes narrowed in anger. 

“If you even can…I’m sure it is only a matter of time before he gets bored and comes back to what he knows…who can REALLY take care of him as I’m sure he is wanting something more than…missionary…calling you baby, just like he did to me…” Her hand suddenly rested on your forearm. 

“There’s no shame in it…You just…aren’t…enough…” She shrugged. 

“I’ll be sure to send you an invitation for when he-” You barreled out of the bathroom, marching away from her before crashing into Rafe. 

“Baby? You alright? What’s wrong?” It wasn't until he saw Sofia leaving the bathroom that he would understand. Letting out a sigh, he flashed a look of warning to her, before leading you home. But you wouldn’t be able to bring yourself out of the car as you felt too small to the steps you needed to take. 

“What did she say to you?” He asked with an exasperated breath, worsened when he saw the tears on your cheeks. “What the fuck did she say?”

“Nothing I didn’t already know…” You bowed your head, insecurities swallowing you whole before you watched him kneel between you. 

“Whatever she said, it isn’t true, okay? Sofia likes to be dramatic and cause problems, it’s why you’re so refreshing baby…you just make everything easy and-”

“Boring?” You asked beneath your continued tears as he tried to take your face between his hands, but you were steadfast in your pity, moving past him and into Tannyhill as everyone else had remained at the restaurant. 

“You aren’t boring, you’re relaxing…there’s a difference. I love everything about being with you and-” Something altered within you as you turned to face him, pushing him into the now closed front door and carrying his hands to your hips. After returning to reality following this surprise, he fell into you completely, holding you as he always had with such kindness. It was this very kindness you wanted to prove wrong. And so you led him by the lapels of his blazer until he would be taken to the couch. Pushing him rather forcefully onto its cushion, you straddled him, leading your lips to his ear. 

“I want you to fuck me Rafe. Hard and deep-right here, right now…please-” But to this, he collected your hands as he saw the tears continue down your cheeks. 

“Baby-”

“Just PLEASE!” You pulled his belt from its buckle, pulling it from his hips as he fell into the rush of your kiss on his neck and motions against his hips. 

“I need you to fuck me, Rafe…I need…” But to this, he only collected your face even harder, brushing your tears away. 

“Why do you want it like this?”

“Because I want to show you I’m not…we can be exciting and-”

“Baby, every time IS exciting…”

“No, it’s not. You’re gonna get bored with me and go back to-” You stopped, bowing your head in shame. 

“That’s what she said?” He watched you collect your face for a moment, tears continuing behind your palms as he lifted you around him and to his bedroom. 

“Rafe…” But he set you softly onto the edge of the bed, moving between your legs and pulling your heels from your sore feet, offering a momentary massage, before continuing up to the stockings at rest at your hips. 

“I’m going to show you why you’re perfect for me, baby…” You bent into yourself at the title that you used to adore that you could only picture him calling her now. It was all consuming. 

“But you…you called her that too…right?” He paused, a smile cresting on his face as your eyes narrowed. 

“Then how about…darling? A word, just for us-for you?” You nodded. 

“Good…Now lay back, darling…let me show you how I can take care of you-” 

“I already know-”

“And THEN I’ll show you just how much you take care of me…” He silenced you before pulling the skirt of your dress above your hips, connecting his tongue between your folds in quickening succession until you began to arch beneath him. 

“Rafe…RAFE…”

“The way you moan for me is enough…the way your body reacts to me IS enough…” He spoke behind clenched teeth, returning to you with vigor, almost anger, as he continued. 

“When you come, it’s music and when you say my name, it’s…fuck, I live for it…I swear to God, you’re enough…But right now…” He suddenly paused, lifting from your thighs and pulling you towards him with a hand to the back of your neck. 

“I have to show you…” You nodded as he removed his pants until they fell to his ankles, this allowing him to be freed from his restrain. 

“You always feel so good for me…” He explained as he set himself inside of you, the familiar stretch making you groan as you clutched around him, his head resting against your forehead. 

“You always take me so well…I have to pace myself because I could come inside you in less than a minute if I didn’t…”

“Rafe…”

“And you…God, everything you do…it’s more than enough-it’s too much…And I know I don’t always show it…I want to…But there aren’t enough words…I swear it…but I love you…I love you so fucking much and anybody who makes you question that will deal with me-she’ll deal with me-” As he began to groan, you took hi sface into your hands. 

“No…I don’t want anything but us…Just us-”

“Then take it, baby…Take all of it…all of me…” You nodded, feeling tears form on his own cheeks as he buried himself into your shoulder. The vibrations from his moaning having reverberated through both of your bodies as he took his nails into your hips, eating into your skin, before he whimpered into you. 

“Darling…mine. I’m yours-you’re mine…”

“Yes, Rafe…YES!”

“Yes…Fuck baby-darling..shit!” You pulled him tighter into you, feeling his body relinquish that tension and that admiration into you as you were quick to join him, trembling in his arms as he pulled you even tighter against him. 

“THIS is enough…This is everything-” He moved onto his elbows. “YOU are everything to me…I swear to God or…whatever you believe in most-”

“You.” He scoffed. 

“I love you, darling.”

“I love you, Rafe.”

Taglist: @hopebaker @iovdrew @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @my-baexht-ls @slut4starkey @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @obxxrxfes @bluesongbird-blogd @slut-era @ailee-celeste @rafesbae

[lowlylux]

I am a Sinner (You are a Saint)

Chapter Sixteen | Count the Scars

Ship: HeiKazuScara

Rating: E

Status: In Progress

Word Count: 3.1k

Description:

“You shall be cast out of the heavenly realm indefinitely.”

Kunikuzushi feels arms grab his own as he is forced to his feet. He struggles, keeping his eyes on his mother only. “Mother! Don’t let them do this!” The guards continue to drag him away, even if it is a struggle. “Mother!” He knows the gate to the human realm is growing closer to him. The more time passes, the less chance he has to escape. But the divine never back out of their decisions…never. He looks to his mother one last time, hoping that she at least looks at him. But her gaze refuses to meet his own.

When he is finally cast out, the air rushing past his entire body, he could only visualize his mother’s pained expression.

He has never felt so alone…

ao3 link

Scaramouche doesn’t quite know what really happened.  He has never quite experienced such a feat of being physically transported from another realm.  Yet, here he stands, a tyrant staring back at him.  It should never have been possible, a singular being should have never been able to transport someone between realms.

But angelic power should have never been able to mix with demonic, yet here he is, standing face to face with the person who made the impossible possible.

“If you wanted to visit me, you could have just asked.”

Scaramouche blinks at the statement before deciding to go along with it.  What is the worst that could happen?  “I didn’t know how to start.”

“Tartaglia would have done it for you,” Barnabas says with a smile, her eyes twinkling in amusement.  “We keep in touch, he would have done it.”

“He hasn’t been in the demonic realm for a while.”

“Unfortunately,” she mutters as if genuinely upset with such a fact.  “But if asked, I’m sure he would pay me a visit.  He owes me that much.”

“Childe doesn’t owe you anything,” Scaramouche says without thinking, immediately widening his eyes at what just came out of his mouth.  “I’m so sorry.”

She waves her hand, as if attempting to calm his nerves.  “Don’t worry about it.”  She pauses, as if thinking.  “You’re right anyways.”

“What?”

“I saved his life but that does not mean he should be forever indebted to me.” She says simply, readjusting herself on her throne.  “If he wants to spend the next fifty years with that human, well that is his choice.  In the end he will come back to where he belongs.”  She does not sound happy with that though.

“I’ll be sure to tell him that.”

“Thank you Scaramouche,” she says with a smile, her head tilting to the side.  “Now how have you been?  The last time I saw you…well you were a cherub.”

Scaramouche ponders on what to say.  On one hand, he could interrogate her.  On the other hand, he could convince her to not go through with her plan.  But both options seem out of reach as she continues to smile at him as if he has fallen into a trap.

“...why don’t I remember you?”

The Tsaritsa frowns at such a statement, as if she expected it but hated such a thing at the same time.  “Celestia has the means of…storing away one’s memories so they are unable to be recalled.  At the time, it feels obvious, but as years go by, you barely notice unless something from those memories reappears.”

“They sealed my memories?”

“You’ve seen my past, you can guess why.”

“So it’s true? I could just…ascend?”

The Tsaritsa laughs, finally standing up, making her way to Scaramouche, slowly, but surely.  “With all that Celestia has developed in order to stop such a thing?  I highly doubt it.  Perhaps when I first fell, but now you have an equal chance compared to all other angels.”

Scaramouche lets out a shaky breath, the reality crashing down.  “So they had no reason to hate me?”

“Sometimes there is not a reason for hatred.  It festers amongst those who harbor it for far too long without an outlet.  When they find someone who is able to take the blame, well, you become the face of it.”

She puts a hand on Scaramouche’s shoulder, squeezing it gently.  “You have been through so much, little one, and for that I pity you.  But I need to know, why were you snooping in my past?”

“I wanted answers.”

It’s not a lie, even if it is stretching the truth a tad.  But he really does not want to think of what this woman will do once the truth is revealed.  Because even if she is being nice now, she is still the demon threatening his home.  She is still someone who has killed people.  Even if she is someone from his past, it does not mean she is the same person from before.

“Answers to what?  Don’t keep me in suspense.”

“Why everything happened the way it did.  How you became…” Scaramouche trails off, truly not knowing how to word what he is trying to say.  It’s mostly bullshit…and he has never been an amazing liar.

“Is that all?” The Tsaritsa asks, grinning as she grabs his other shoulder, forcing him to look at her.  “I could show you that right now!”

The world turns white, the only thing constant being the grip on his shoulders.  Scaramouche closes his eyes, the light bothering him far worse than even Celestia’s.

“It was quite simple really,” she says, pushing his shoulder so that he will open his eyes.  When he does, he is greeted by a familiar scene.  Barnabas sits in the mortal realm, looking in much more disarray than when he left her.

He watches silently as the scene continues.  It is only when a familiar demon, Pierro, appears, that he realizes that there is no sound.  

“Pierro offered me freedom…” The Tsaritsa says softly.  “I was still struggling over being abandoned by my people…the offer of a new family was almost impossible to resist.”

“That’s a decently far jump...angel to demon.”

“Pierro and I had met before…he was interested in my skill set.  I of course denied him at the time, but I would be insane not to think his offer held some merit at the time.”

Barnabas reaches for Pierro’s hand hesitantly, allowing the demon to help her to her feet.  Her wings are in disarray.

“He had killed the previous lord.  Yet, he did not want to take over.  He insisted that I was perfect for the job.”

“But weren’t you afraid that he was tricking you?  Wouldn’t it be easy for him to use you?”

“It’s why I killed him a few hundred years ago.”

Scaramouche flinches at her tone, not expecting the sudden switch.  She seems to notice, her mask slipping back on flawlessly.  “He was a threat to my family.  I was merely protecting everyone, you understand, don’t you?  After all, that’s why you’re here, isn’t it…Scaramouche?”

He is thrown back into reality abruptly, his blood running cold as he stares up at the Tsaritsa.  She stares down, eyes practically glowing as she waits.  She waits for a realization that Scaramouche doesn’t even expect until it all comes crashing down.

He never told her his new name.

“You knew what I was doing from the very beginning…”

“I’m not an idiot,” she says coldly, turning her back to him.  He has to stop a gasp when he sees her back.  Bones stick out, jagged and unsightly, the last remaining proof of her angelic nature, sawed away.  “I owed my harbinger a favor.”

“I’m not actually here…am I?”

She clicks her tongue, smiling as she turns around to see him.  “Always quick witted.  Tell me, is it possible to transport someone between realms?”

“Yes…but…”

“It requires a ritual.  Something I could never dream of doing,” she says, kneeling down to his level, meeting him on the floor.  “But consciousness is a different story.  Consider it a gift from me.”

“Where is my body?”

“With Dottore and Pantalone,” she smiles, no longer full of any warmth.  But as Scaramouche sits there, reality sinking in, he wonders if it ever was.  Was she such an amazing actress that she tricked him, or did he trick himself into delusion?  “They needed you, and I really did not want to wait any longer.”

“Why…”

“This is the best way to get to the angelic realm,” she says as if it is the most simple thing in the world.  But she sees his face, looking in his eyes for a moment.  She puts a hand to his cheek, frowning when he flinches away.  “You should have ignored the signs, stayed with the divine.  You would have had a chance.  I’m truly sorry for how you’re leaving this world.”

And for the first time in the conversation, she is telling the truth.

●•·•●

“Hurry it up.”

“I already told you thank magic takes time,” Kaeya hisses out, his hair pulled out of his face as he works on the spell, Albedo right there with him.

“Well tell it to hurry the fuck up,” Kazuha responds, pacing around.  “You fucking promised that nothing would happen!”

“How was I supposed to know it was a trap?”

“We should never have done it!  You never should have suggested it!”

“Hey,” Diluc responds, his eyes narrowing at Kazuha’s words.  “Scaramouche wanted the truth.  That much isn’t our fault.  No matter what, he would have sought after the truth.  We merely gave him a way.”

“Well I’m sure he’s happy to know the truth now that he’s been kidnapped.”

“I’m working on the transport spell, Kaeya and Albedo are working on the locator spell.  We will find him, and we will stop Dottore before the unimaginable can happen, alright,” Diluc says softly, attempting to reach out for Kazuha, but the blond scoffs and steps aside.

“Can’t Childe transport us?”

Childe, who has stayed silent throughout this entire conversation finally reacts, his eyes widening as he immediately shakes his head.  “If they find out I-”

Diluc steps in front of the ginger immediately, cutting the demon off.  “Childe isn’t going to get in the middle of this, am I clear?  You put him in danger and we both walk, right now.”

“You’d rather kill Scaramouche than make your demon uncomfortable?”

“Scaramouche is your boyfriend, not mine,” Diluc says calmly with a straight face.  “At this point it would be better to brainstorm how we stop a glorified apocalypse, not a rescue operation for an angel who we don’t even know found a way to put an end to this.”

“We need to save him.”

“And we will,” Diluc hisses out, stepping towards Kazuha in anger.  Kazuha wonders what would have happened if he would have continued to press the obvious buttons.  Would Diluc have punched him?  Would he have walked out and left Scaramouche for dead?  Kazuha supposes he will never know, mostly due to Childe standing up and grabbing the man’s hand.  Diluc sighs, closing his eyes for a moment before looking Kazuha in the eyes.  “Look, I understand the concern.  But unless you give us the time we need, we cannot do anything.  Am I clear?”

Kazuha continues to stare at Diluc, hoping for anything, a small crack in his demeanor that he can exploit.  But there is nothing…at least nothing he can see.  “I’m sorry.”

“No you’re not.”

And Diluc just…goes back to what he was doing as if that entire confrontation did not happen.  Well, going back to it is strong wording.  Whatever spell he is casting doesn’t require him to stay near it constantly…or, Diluc just doesn’t need to be near it at all.  Kazuha doesn’t quite understand it.  He doesn’t understand how Kaeya requires Albedo for every spell, but Diluc is perfectly fine without Childe.  He doesn’t understand why Kaeya has to get his hands directly on it, making contact while mixing in magical energy, yet Diluc makes it seem like it is as simple as breathing.

Maybe after all of this he should ask Ningguang about how all this works.  Maybe every witch is different, or maybe one of the two brothers is an exception to the rule.  His eyes widen at the thought, remembering a crucial detail.

He has never told Ningguang and Beidou about what is going on.  

He glances at the group, ensuring the status of saving Scaramouche is still in progress before stepping out of the room, his phone in his hands before he can even think.  The device rings a few times before a voice comes from the other end of it, immediately calming him.

“Kazuha?  Are you okay?” Ningguang asks.  He hears rustling on the other end, pointing at the very likely fact that Beidou is in the room.

“Ningguang…I need you to get Beidou out of the room.”

“I can’t act as your therapist Kazuha, goes against too many rules.”

“Then act like a mother, please Ningguang.  I don’t want to tell Beidou.” Kazuha pleads into the phone, nervously glancing toward the group working tirelessly to stop the end of the world.  “I can’t tell her.”

He hears muffled talking on the other end before it’s gone, only silence remaining as Kazuha waits.  “What happened?”

“I don’t really understand it all,” Kazuha mutters, attempting to breathe but failing drastically.  “There’s a witch trying to summon the demon…queen?  I think?  And we tried to get Scaramouche to look through some…memory pool?  But he’s gone.  They told me he’d be safe but he’s not and I don’t know what to do.  I don’t understand what is happening and am currently sitting outside a dingy bar that my angel boyfriend told me is some meeting place for creatures I barely knew existed a year ago.”

“Kazuha…honey, you need to breathe.”

“I can’t,” Kazuha cries out, ducking his head when a few heads from inside the bar turn to look at him.  “I can’t.” He hates when he gets like this.  He’s supposed to be the calm one, the one who is able to act with a level head.  But he can’t do that when he feels like he’s in the dark, every single person closer to the light while he falls deeper in confusion.  

“Kazuha, thank you for telling me about this.  Are you with that witch friend of Scaramouche’s?  The redhead?  He will know what to do.”

“He’s here…yeah, but when it comes down to it, I don’t think he will do everything to save Scara…”

“I’m so sorry,” Ningguang says through the phone, and suddenly Kazuha wishes the woman was right here, embracing her so that he can finally breathe again.  She always knew how to keep him from spiraling.  “I can’t do anything to help him…at least I won’t have the time to.”

“I know.”

“Then why would-“

“Is there a way to protect the both of you?  Use your…mythical creature connections and get out of here before everything comes crashing down?”

There is silence on the other end for a moment, Kazuha even finds himself wondering if she hung up.  But he finds solace in knowing that she would never do such a thing.  “I can find us passage to the angelic realm…Kazuha, you could go with us.”

“I’m not leaving Scaramouche.”

“What about Heizou?”

“If they are willing to let me and Heizou up there for safety’s sake, I doubt they would allow Scaramouche the same privilege.”

“So you’re staying?”

“Of course I’m staying,” Kazuha replies, finally getting himself back to being calm, something he was suspecting is becoming a far too reliable front to keep him sane.  “I’ll give Heizou the option.”

“That man would rather jump down into the demonic realm himself then leave either of you.” Ningguang says in a way that makes Kazuha snort.  He smiles, knowing that she is right.  “Stay safe, alright?  With all that’s going on…who’s to know when we will get to talk again.”

“You stay safe too, I’m sure convincing Beidou to run away won’t be easy.”

“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

“Don’t lie to her,” Kazuha says, warning the woman.  “She may love you, but she will kill you all the same the moment she finds out.”

“Who’s to say I’ll lie?  Don’t doubt me.”  Ningguang says.  Kazuha will never admit it, but one of the things that drew him to Heizou initially was just how similar he was to Ningguang.  The type of person who knows how to deal with others without them even realizing.  He likes being read before he has to say a word.  Maybe that makes him pathetic, he will never know.  “Goodbye, Kazuha.  Tell Scaramouche I said hello when you see him next time.”

She hangs up before they can continue the conversation.

Kazuha rests his head on the wall of the building, trying to make sense of everything.  He knew Ningguang would calm him, she always does, but that does not make it any less uncanny.  

“I see she beat me to getting you back.”

He doesn’t even need to open his eyes to recognize the voice.  He doesn’t know who called Heizou, but he’s sure he does not want to see the expression on the man’s face.  He can only take so much pity in one afternoon.

“How are they doing in getting him back?”

“I don’t know.”

“What happened?”

“I don’t know.”

“Is he still alive?”

“I don’t-“ Kazuha cuts himself off, taking a breath as he stares at Heizou.  “They can’t tell me…or won’t.  I’m not too sure.  Or maybe they’re trying and I’m too stupid to know what’s going on because I simply do not know half of what they’re saying.”

“Then neither of us will be any help,” Heizou mutters, kneeling toward him.  He offers the man a smile, which Kazuha gladly accepts.  “I’m not as smart as you think I am.”

“You’re a genius.”

“In human matters,” Heizou says carefully, brushing a stray strand of hair out of Kazuha’s face.  “But this world?  I’m pretty certain Scaramouche is smarter than both of us in those matters.”

Kazuha frowns, averting his gaze.  “And now he’s gone.  Heizou what if he’s…”

“I think he’s alive,” Heizou says carefully.  “Think about it.  They knew I was alive because the plan did not happened yet.  If Scaramouche is truly the last step in their plan, we would already be face to face with a demon.”

“So he’s alive?” Kazuha asks, his voice barely audible before collapsing into Heizou with a sigh.  “I feel so helpless in all of this.”

Heizou pets Kazuha’s hair, running his hand through the blond’s hair.  Kazuha feels his boyfriend take a deep breath, as if preparing himself.  “I may have a way to get him back.”

Kazuha moves away from Heizou, just so that he can look at him.  “What do you mean?”  Heizou hesitantly gestures to the side, allowing Kazuha to look, and when he does, he cannot help but wonder if his boyfriend has gone off the deep end.  “That's a fox, Heizou.”

But that…fox…if Kazuha can call it that seemingly transforms in front of his very eyes.  It looks grotesque, as if parts of both human and fox meld together in a flesh-clad monstrosity before going to a far more palatable appearance.

She has long pink hair, a tad bit messy from her transformation.  For any normal interaction, he would note the eyes first, a piercing purple, but the wings are what gain his attention.  A single set sits on her back, drooping as if to hide them.  She blinks, as if grounding herself before taking a breath.  “I’m here about Scaramouche.”

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masterlist

[j-psilas]

Arthur Machen's Idea of Evil

If you’ll indulge me, I’d like to explain one of my favorite ideas in fiction: the idea of positive evil.

The Christian conception of evil is, more often than not, one of negation. Evil is a lack of goodness, a turning away from God. Adam and Eve were born sinless, but acted against God’s will, and so fell from innocence and grace. Thence came Original Sin, an imperfection that was inherited by all humankind. A defect, a blemish—an alteration of what would have been their natural state.

For many people, this is the familiar way of viewing sin and evil, even if they aren’t familiar with all the strange theological offshoots that came from following it to its logical conclusions.

I’m not going to discuss those here, though they’re certainly worth investigating. Rather, I want to talk about how the late Victorian author Arthur Machen, regarded by many as the “grandfather of weird fiction,” created horror and mystery by rejecting this doctrine, and entertaining the possibility of evil with positive substance unto itself.

Picture very much related.

What separates crime from sin, vice from evil, animal fear from existential terror? Much of Machen’s horror fiction follows this line of inquiry in one way or another, but he answers it pretty directly in the prologue of The White People. It’s structured as a short Socratic dialogue between the author stand-in Ambrose and his evening visitor, Mr. Cotgrave:

‘I think you are falling into the very general error of confining the spiritual world to the supremely good; but the supremely wicked, necessarily, have their portion in it. The merely carnal, sensual man can no more be a great sinner than he can be a great saint. Most of us are just indifferent, mixed-up creatures; we muddle through the world without realizing the meaning and the inner sense of things, and, consequently, our wickedness and our goodness are alike second-rate, unimportant.'

'And you think the great sinner, then, will be an ascetic, as well as the great saint?'

'Great people of all kinds forsake the imperfect copies and go to the perfect originals. I have no doubt but that many of the very highest among the saints have never done a "good action" (using the words in their ordinary sense). And, on the other hand, there have been those who have sounded the very depths of sin, who all their lives have never done an "ill deed."'

[...]

'I can't stand it, you know,' he said, 'your paradoxes are too monstrous. A man may be a great sinner and yet never do anything sinful! Come!'

'You're quite wrong,' said Ambrose. 'I never make paradoxes; I wish I could. [...] Oh, yes, there is a sort of connexion between Sin with the capital letter, and actions which are commonly called sinful: with murder, theft, adultery, and so forth. Much the same connexion that there is between the A, B, C and fine literature. But I believe that the misconception—it is all but universal—arises in great measure from our looking at the matter through social spectacles. We think that a man who does evil to us and to his neighbours must be very evil. So he is, from a social standpoint; but can't you realize that Evil in its essence is a lonely thing, a passion of the solitary, individual soul? Really, the average murderer, quâ murderer, is not by any means a sinner in the true sense of the word. He is simply a wild beast that we have to get rid of to save our own necks from his knife. I should class him rather with tigers than with sinners.'

'It seems a little strange.'

'I think not. The murderer murders not from positive qualities, but from negative ones; he lacks something which non-murderers possess. Evil, of course, is wholly positive—only it is on the wrong side. You may believe me that sin in its proper sense is very rare; it is probable that there have been far fewer sinners than saints. Yes, your standpoint is all very well for practical, social purposes; we are naturally inclined to think that a person who is very disagreeable to us must be a very great sinner! It is very disagreeable to have one's pocket picked, and we pronounce the thief to be a very great sinner. In truth, he is merely an undeveloped man. He cannot be a saint, of course; but he may be, and often is, an infinitely better creature than thousands who have never broken a single commandment. He is a great nuisance to us, I admit, and we very properly lock him up if we catch him; but between his troublesome and unsocial action and evil—Oh, the connexion is of the weakest.'

It was getting very late. The man who had brought Cotgrave had probably heard all this before, since he assisted with a bland and judicious smile, but Cotgrave began to think that his 'lunatic' was turning into a sage.

'Do you know,' he said, 'you interest me immensely? You think, then, that we do not understand the real nature of evil?'

'No, I don't think we do. We over-estimate it and we under-estimate it. We take the very numerous infractions of our social "bye-laws"—the very necessary and very proper regulations which keep the human company together—and we get frightened at the prevalence of "sin" and "evil." But this is really nonsense. Take theft, for example. Have you any horror at the thought of Robin Hood, of the Highland caterans of the seventeenth century, of the moss-troopers, of the company promoters of our day?

'Then, on the other hand, we underrate evil. We attach such an enormous importance to the "sin" of meddling with our pockets (and our wives) that we have quite forgotten the awfulness of real sin.'

'And what is sin?' said Cotgrave.

'I think I must reply to your question by another. What would your feelings be, seriously, if your cat or your dog began to talk to you, and to dispute with you in human accents? You would be overwhelmed with horror. I am sure of it. And if the roses in your garden sang a weird song, you would go mad. And suppose the stones in the road began to swell and grow before your eyes, and if the pebble that you noticed at night had shot out stony blossoms in the morning?

'Well, these examples may give you some notion of what sin really is.'

[...]

'You astonish me,' said Cotgrave. 'I had never thought of that. If that is really so, one must turn everything upside down. Then the essence of sin really is——'

'In the taking of heaven by storm, it seems to me,' said Ambrose. 'It appears to me that it is simply an attempt to penetrate into another and higher sphere in a forbidden manner. You can understand why it is so rare. There are few, indeed, who wish to penetrate into other spheres, higher or lower, in ways allowed or forbidden. Men, in the mass, are amply content with life as they find it. Therefore there are few saints, and sinners (in the proper sense) are fewer still, and men of genius, who partake sometimes of each character, are rare also. Yes; on the whole, it is, perhaps, harder to be a great sinner than a great saint.'

'There is something profoundly unnatural about Sin? Is that what you mean?'

'Exactly. Holiness requires as great, or almost as great, an effort; but holiness works on lines that were natural once; it is an effort to recover the ecstasy that was before the Fall. But sin is an effort to gain the ecstasy and the knowledge that pertain alone to angels and in making this effort man becomes a demon. I told you that the mere murderer is not therefore a sinner; that is true, but the sinner is sometimes a murderer. Gilles de Raiz is an instance. So you see that while the good and the evil are unnatural to man as he now is—to man the social, civilized being—evil is unnatural in a much deeper sense than good. The saint endeavours to recover a gift which he has lost; the sinner tries to obtain something which was never his. In brief, he repeats the Fall.'

Emphasis added by me.

Sin, in Machen’s eyes, is a violation of the most fundamental laws of our universe—the principles that determines what is good, what is natural, what is up and what is down. In Platonic terms, it is a violation of the reality that proceeds from ‘God,’ the One, the Good.

To break these laws is not merely to turn away from God, but to turn towards something else. Some entity or principle that is wholly foreign to the Good, and is intruding upon our reality, imprinting itself upon matter and spirit alike. 

The sinner turns towards this Evil, just as the saint turns towards the Good, because it induces the same spiritual ecstasy, just in the opposite direction. 

You are making contact with a great spiritual Truth, be it supernal or infernal or simply weird, and the very essence of your being is undergoing a process of sublimation in accordance with that principle.

It’s a terrifying idea because it empowers evil in a way that Christian doctrine simply does not allow, and it acknowledges that depravity is, on some level, empowering. It’s not just that we want to get away with breaking the rules. It’s not that we want to follow our appetites without regard for the harm that it may cause. No, sometimes human beings want to commit real violence, spiritual or physical, simply for its own sake—just like we do good things for the sake of goodness.

Attributing that impulse to the influence of a transcendent law or entity, of the same kind as the One, presents an existentially perilous universe. Suddenly we are beset from all sides by forces from outside our reality, as infinite as there are directions, all of which threaten to change the essence of who and what we are. Acknowledging these intrusive powers could mean succumbing to them, and becoming something as foreign to humanity as blossoming cobblestones are to the laws of physics.

Someone beside you, to all appearances human, could be wearing that form only externally, and temporarily. They could in fact belong to something that should not exist in our world at all. And if given the chance, they would discard their human face and show you something that should not be manifested in matter at all.

Chilling, isn’t it?

I was going to talk about this idea in fiction besides Machen’s—I actually see some echoes of it in The Legend of Zelda: A Link to the Past, of all things—but this is already a fairly long post. I’ll save it for another time. 

To those who bothered to read this far, what are your favorite examples of ‘positive evil’ in fiction?

[wolfriver777]

dissecting my mdzs playlist

It is very small cause I don't go out of my way to find songs to associate with characters they come to me while I'm chilling. I have a bit to say and like also lyrics to force ya'll to read.

Things to Do - Alex G. I associate this song largely with Lan Xichen and post canon in particular. This lyric in particular drives me insane /pos "The calculator will make the same mistakes Yeah, I see it in its face" The lyrics in gen I think just really hit the spot for Lan Xichen.

I Wait for You - Alex G. Wangxian!!! More specifically Lan Wangji, it's just so them i encourage you to look at the lyrics, but of course the classic chorus "It's nothing new I wait for you" and the beginning " Selling pills to the girls when they cross the block I told him he should quit that sketchy scene He said, "Nothing compares to the fever dream" ughughugh *explodes*

Lacy - Olivia Rodrigo. Jiang cheng and Wei Wuxian yes easily chengxian too me cause of how kinda homoerotic the song is if you ask me. I wish I could just copy and paste all the lyrics here cause the whole song fits them so fucking well!!! I think the 2nd verse just hits the chengxian vibes the most "Smart sexy Lacy, I'm losing it lately I feel your compliments like bullets on skin Dazzling starlet, Bardot reincarnate Well, aren't you the greatest thing to ever exist?" The 2nd chorus also hits so hard but theres one more i want to add that just hits harder than the chorus, the final verse is just *chef's kiss* "Lacy, oh, Lacy, it's like you're out to get me You poison every little thing that I do Lacy, oh, Lacy, I just loathe you lately And I despise my jealous eyes and how hard they fell for you Yeah, I despise my rotten mind and how much it worships you" It's about the envy and its delicious

Can't Catch Me Now - Olivia Rodrigo. Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian, yes my brain also reads this with a chengxian vibe. I love the idea that through out those 13 years that Wei Wuxian's memory bitterly haunted Jiang Cheng, there's something awful about the idea of Jiang Cheng having an intense freak out because well, Wei Wuxian is gone, he's dead. " Bet you thought I'd never do it Thought it'd go over my head I bet you figured I'd pass with the winter Be somethin' easy to forget Oh, you think I'm gone 'cause I left" This verse in particular itches my brain just right and then of course the chorus as well drives me insane, when i tell you, you can imagine Jiang Cheng so breaking down to this song and it drives me insane But I'm in the trees, "I'm in the breeze My footsteps on the ground You'll see my face in every place But you can't catch me now Through wading grass, the months will pass You'll feel it all around I'm here, I'm there, I'm everywhere"

The Night We Met - Lord Huron. Lan Wangji, wangxian if you will. Honestly I shouldn't copy and paste another whole damn song, BUT this damn line "I had all and then most of you Some and now none of you" I'm just gonna explode again, yall should totally listen to the whole song or like read all the lyrics cause god fucking damn.

Wait for It - Hamilton musical. Jiang Cheng, Once again fellasI shoudn't copy and paste a whole 'nother song but fuuuuuck, admittedly I had forgotten how Jiang Cheng this song is until I'm listening to it to write this. "When they died they left no instructions Just a legacy to protect" look at me and tell me that doesn't have the vibes of the fall of Lotus Pier! Also the damn chorus god that just fits the vibe of of mdzs as a whole in my brain "Death doesn't discriminate Between the sinners and the saints It takes and it takes and it takes And we keep living anyway"... Mdzs is so just, there's a lot of grey area to me but god. I seriously cant post the whole damn lyrics but towards the end it get's very Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian and just ugh im going insane.

Night Shift - Lucy Dacus. Jiang Cheng, chengxian. Let me just copy and paste the whole lyrics again. This verse in particular "Am I a masochist, resisting urges to punch you in the teeth Call you a bitch and leave? Why did I come here? To sit and watch you stare at your feet? What was the plan? Absolve your guilt and shake hands?" and this one " Now bite your tongue, it's too dangerous to fall so young Take back what you said Can't lose what you never had" and of course the final verses(?) " You got a 9 to 5, so I'll take the night shift And I'll never see you again if I can help it In five years I hope the songs feel like covers Dedicated to new lovers" The way this verse is just repeated and builds up in sound and just yall, I'm screaming and crying just thinking about the vibes in my head that I just cant word! The whole "never seeing you again if I can help it" what if I was evil y'all?

True Blue - boygenius. Wei Wuxian. God I honestly don't know at this point what lyric made me pin point this as a song for him. It just definitely feels it can be about him you know. "When you don't know who you are, you fuck around and find out When you called me from the train, water freezing in your eyes You were happy and I wasn't surprised" Wei Wuxian always figures it out, god just yeah and the chorus about how it feels good to be known and you cant hide from them like you hide from yourself? uuuuh Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng! and "You've never done me wrong Except for that one time that we don't talk about Because it doesn't matter anymore Who won the fight? I don't know, we're not keeping score" I am so evil about them god, And Wei Wuxian's love being tried and just waaaaah im gonna explode

Stay Down - boygenius. Wei Wuxian. When I tel you there's a verse that is so Wei Wuxian and it make's me so damn evil, The song as a whole fits him so well but this verse is just so him especially post sunshot campaign me thinks. " So, would you teach me? I'm the villain, aren't I? Aren't I the one constantly repenting for a difficult mind? Push me down into the water like a sinner Hold me under and I'll never come up again" God try and tell me that it doesn't suit him, go on. I just sdlfhlskxfjlksdfj

Afraid of Heights - boygenius. Lan Xichen and Jin Guangyao. Xiyao. Thought this had vibes, friend said that it fits xiyao, I agree. the reverse of risking and not risking just sorta fit. I personally imagine the lyrics being from Lan Xichen's perspective. I think the last two verses in particular really hit but its really the last one that make's make think of them " You called me a crybaby But you're the one who got teary Telling me what you believe How we're stuck in entropy How it hurts to hope Oh, it hurts to hope for more Oh, it hurts to hope the future Will be better than before"