#at least these came out less muddy than the last ones

[beskad]

THE MANDALORIAN, CHAPTER 9: THE MARSHAL

1/∞

[tremendum]

Setting the Mood ; Mr. Miller vii

[not my gif] pairing: joel miller x fem!reader (afab, some use of she/her, use of the words girl/woman) rating: explicit. [18+. mdni] word count: 10k summary:  ❝Joel's warming up to you in the way that feral cats warm up to a box with blankets in winter - cautiously, with a rigid spine and many false alarms.❞ warnings: power outage, one mention of cobwebs lol, smut - oral (f!receiving), nipple play, teasing, overstimulation, anal fingering (brief sorry), face sitting, pussy slapping!!!, tit slapping (once), begging, choking (light), fingering, rough sex, praise, dacryphilia, degradation, threats of using sex toys, Joel is less mean than normal, pussy drunk Joel!, squirting, brief mentions of guns/canon typical trauma and violence. also fairly fluffy. emotionally constipated joel and reader <3 notes: thank u all for ur patience & here's the next part! and Joel is a MUNCHHH in this one lol. special thanks to the anon who recently sent me such kind words about this series, as well as the other anon who gave me the inspiration & all the suggestions for this fic!!! this one's for u guys <3 [this is part seven of the Mr. Miller series.] [masterlist]

[important - this is the last fic that will be using my taglist. moving on, I've made a notifs blog - @tremendumnotifs - for ppl to follow for notifications. tysm!!] ★  

"'s gettin' dark out there." Joel broods, eyebrow furrowed as he stares out the window into the dreary wink of evening, a dark gray clouding the sky as sheets of rain slam onto the pavement and pelt onto the gardens lining the block. "stormy." 

you can't help but quirk your brow as you take in his worried form, the way he peels back the curtains like a wartime wife awaiting a letter or a figure appearing in the driveway. you have to fight back a laugh, instead putting on a straight face as you lean towards him, capturing his gaze. 

"she's handled worse." is all you say, giving him a shrug - one that's met with a glare. "I know." he retorts, voice soured; a clench of a jaw before he turns back out, brooding, sighing, gritting his teeth. okay then. 

you shift yourself, plopping heavily onto the couch - you're still not used to being in this house, even in its simple glory. Joel's boots, muddy by the door, Ellie's drawings littering the walls like little trophies Joel silently boasts about - none of them have frames, though you decide in a better world, they probably would. empty mugs of half-drank coffee on the counter next to the sink, a discarded hand knife on the dining table. 

it's almost a complete mirror of your current house - with a tickling thrill, you'd realized this faintly the first time Joel'd thrown you onto the ground in his foyer months ago. he's since grown gentler with the way he handles you, at least, when he wants to. 

even now - his tolerance, vastly expansive compared to months ago when a breath in his direction would cause a snarl within a second. now, he even initiates conversations - not often, but enough for you to feel like, at some point, things did change with him. Joel's warming up to you in the way that feral cats warm up to a box with blankets in winter - cautiously, with a rigid spine and many false alarms. 

you don't particularly mind, either - Ellie and Dina have been helping you with the winter garden greenhouses a lot, and even Joel has stopped by on his way back from patrols to check in, lingering with glares or stares depending on his mood. he even came over to help you try and fix your porch steps leading to the backyard - free of charge, though you sent him home with some of the biscuits you'd made earlier that day. 

you still get on each other's nerves - snide remarks, passes at the other's intelligence or capability. Joel criticizes you nearly every chance he gets, but you've come to decide it's a defense mechanism and not entirely in his full control. you, similarly, tease him every moment you can for his dramatics, but suddenly clam up and scamper away at any semblance of feelings or emotion. he always lets you come back though, without any mention of it. 

"are you seriously worried about her?" you ask, sighing gently. you see the uptick in his brow when he looks at you, but you quickly follow up - "because we can go find her." you add, softer.

his jaw loosens slightly and he sighs heavy. "no, 's fine. I know she's at Dina's. just bein' dramatic." 

you shoot him a look with your brows raised - no shit, Joel - but the withering look he gives you shuts your trap before you can go and run your mouth.

so you let him relax in his own way - pacing in near silence for several minutes before he stops, makes an internal decision to pour you and him each a finger of some amber whisky, and then drains it all in one go. you opt to sip yours.

the wind is what has you in a disturbed state - it howls louder in the basin of this valley than it ever has before in your life; screaming down the streets, blowing through the rush of firs that line the outskirts of downtown. and now, it uses its immense force to slam weeping drops of precipitation into the gardens hard enough to form bits of cold hail - a threat which, had it not been twenty years into the end of humanity, would likely still put gardeners to their beds with a curse to Demeter. 

but now, circumstances are a bit more dire. losing crops, especially at this time of year, could be fatal. 

"y'done with that?" his voice pulls you from your thoughts, looking up to see him standing above where you perch on the couch, gesturing to the towel in your lap. you blink, nodding, "-oh. yes, I am, thanks." 

you use one last handful to scrunch up your wet hair, handing him the towel expectantly - but he stays rooted just in front of you, eyes staring unblinkingly at you. a sense of warmth floods through you, starting in your face and spreading over your chest and abdomen. his eyes are softer than they usually are; you lift a brow, his dark gaze unmoving. "something on my face, Miller?" you ask, lifting a brow. it's snappy - you don't necessarily intend it to be, but you can never tell with him. 

he blinks, grabbing the towel from your hands which he'd provided for you when you'd arrived, sending you a grave look. "don't you start with me." he snaps back, turning to walk off towards the laundry room. the room, you think with foolish butterflies, where your jacket hangs up with its orange, janky stitching over the right side to dry. in some ways, a mark of Joel Miller. you smile down to yourself, staring at the spot he'd just stood. 

you swallow your thoughts. you were here for a reason - not to get distracted, but to make a cake for Ellie. Joel had asked you a few days ago to help him bake a cake - for no apparent reason, you don't think her birthday is anytime soon - you'd agreed because, aside from the fact that there's little you wouldn't do for the girl, you haven't baked one in a long time and the lavender you'd grown last summer and dried is begging to be used in a cake batter.

"we need to get started soon!" you call out, shifting slightly to try and find his concealed body somewhere in the house. a faint call of his gruff voice responds to you, but you can barely hear through the onslaught of rain outside; suddenly, and with a careless flicker, the lights all shut off. 

the whirring of heating stops, too, until everything is dark and silent.

you stare with shock, blinking in the dark - the house is silhouetted by the darkening sky, plagued already by thunderclouds. fuck. 

"Joel?" you call out, rising on your feet to find him - you remember him mentioning in one of the first rounds of patrol with him - before anything, back when he really was just Tommy's brother - that he'd been some sort of handyman pre-apocalypse and so how the fuck has he just tripped the fusebox- 

you feel him before you see him, unfortunately. 

Joel, for all the time you've spent intimately knowing what his body feels like, shocks you every time by his sheer strength, the size of his shoulders and the broadness of his chest - especially when you slam into him in the dark. 

"fuck," you both chorus at the same time, you stumbling back and him likely rubbing his shoulder. you groan as you hit a thumbtack stuck in the wall with your head, rubbing the spot sorely in the dark. 

"the power's out." he states, irritation laced through his words. you roll your eyes, knowing it's unlikely he'll even see them in this light anyways.

"hadn't noticed."

your voice is flat and the silence that follows turns your face hot, taking a breath as you rock on your heels. "well I didn't do it." he states obviously, causing your brow to lift slightly until you look out to see through the muggy windows against the downpour that the whole block is out of power. damn weather. 

"found a flashlight." he clicks it on, the light faint and dying as he brushes a few cobwebs from his hand - you realize the flashlight must have been from before the outbreak, with the original owners. but then the light is illuminating in your face; your eyes squint and you bat it away from you with a hiss, glaring at the man in front of you. 

"what are you, a vampire?" he's holding in a laugh, you can hear it in his voice. you roll your eyes, "you tried to blind me, that was a perfectly acceptable reaction. besides, I'm sure the batteries in that thing are a second away from corroding. don't put that near me." 

he sighs, setting it beside him on some half-wall and you cross your arms. "suppose a guy like you probably doesn't have many candles, do you?" you ask, rocking on the balls of your feet - you really don't wish to spend the evening alone in your freezing house - nor in one that is completely dark. 

"do I seem like I'd have any candles?" he asks, equally as exasperated as you. you let out a frustrated groan, leaning against a wall and jumping when you poke your hip into a table you hadn't expected to be there. you ruminate for less than a second before perking up, gasping in a sharp way that has his hand finding your elbow in alarm.

you ignore the flip of your heart at the gesture, tilting your head instead. "I have some. at mine." you say, shifting on your feet. it looks borderline dangerous to go outside right now - as you look out, it must occur to Joel that he's still holding your elbow because he jerks as if to remove it, but instead slides his hand up to hold your shoulder. it makes your heart skip a beat and you scarcely move a muscle. 

Joel huffs a long-suffered sigh, before nodding. "let me get my boots." 

getting to your house was less of a disaster than it should have been; Joel had the foresight to stuff a change of clothing into a bag after a brief argument about him not owning any umbrellas ('you don't have a fucking umbrella?' 'well pardon me for not havin' a Wal-Mart to stock up at during a fucking apocalypse.') and had held the lid of a trash bin above your heads as you ran, avoiding as much pelting hail as possible, to your front porch. you knew he was irritated - with the weather, with the fact that Ellie wasn't home, maybe even that you didn't get to make the cake - enough so that he wouldn't even make eye contact with you as you fumbled, fingers frozen and wet, for your key.

to your embarrassment, it's too stuck in the keyhole and your door wouldn't budge. it'd grown sticky and misshapen after the heat and sudden cold of winter, the frame wholly unfit to keep a functioning front door on its hinges.  

"for god's sakes, give me them." he snapped, pushing into the frame and snatching the keychain from you, tinkering until he was able to slam into the doorframe with a grunt and burst it open.

"we needa fix that." he observes, ridding himself of his boots as you slink into the dark house after him, your face hot at his automatic assumption that he would help you fix your doorframe. he hadn't been particularly happy about fixing the steps for you, but he'd done it without being asked.  

once you're rid of your wet coat and boots, you grab Joel's arm in the cold, dark space of your entry way and start to lead the two of you rather quickly up to your bathroom.  "where the hell do you keep these things?" he grumbles until you've fumbles your way into the master bath, feeling around in the dark under the cabinets and avoiding stray screws sticking out near the drainpipes; it occurs to you that perhaps you should saw them off. maybe you could bribe Joel into doing it for you when he comes round to fix the doorframe. 

seconds later you spin, holding up thick candles triumphantly, smirking as you shove three of them into his surprised arms. the lighting in your house is interrupted by the flash of lightning, flickering brightness over the dark porcelain tiles. "good thing we like to share, right Miller?" you smirk, grabbing the rest of the candles, eyeing the Epsom salt in a mason jar in the fading light, mentally noting to use that next time you take a bath.

he grunts at your words and you grin, shrugging. "what's mine is yours, right?" you ask sweetly.

 he gives you a look as you make your way to the main bedroom to grope around for a lighter or matches - you can feel his irritation starting to wane away, slowly trickling like the beginning of a stream. "when did I ever say somethin' like that?" 

you shrug with one shoulder, sending him a dark grin, "well you sure must've thought it that night when you invited yourself in to my bathroom." 

it's quiet aside from the storm - your stomach broils in anticipation, heat and some kind of arousal tickling at your guts. there's nothing you love more than irritating him.

you tilt your head, desperately wanting to add more, but not in the particular mood to start a real fight. 

Joel, at your words, doesn't get mad - instead he just stares on at you, much too silent, brooding.

his eyes swirl seductively, as if reliving that night in his head. you sure are - his stare, the way his eyes had trailed over your body, the soap slipping over your pert tits and just begging him to join you. in your mind, you leave out the blood and the wound from your stomach, the yelling from Joel and... well, everything that happened after that. 

his eyes trail over your body, getting stuck on the curves of your hips and breasts, before meeting you again. when he opens his mouth, the words are not what you'd expected. 

"this is too many candles for one woman to have in her bathroom." he grunts, shooting you a stern look that seems nearly sinister in the dark moonlight. the rain pours relentlessly on the roof and onto the windows, streaks in the reflection sliding down his broad chest. 

bending over to reach the matchbook on your dresser, you toss him a little grin, "never said they were just for me. believe it or not, I tend to enjoy setting the mood." 

his brows raise, setting the candles on the surfaces around him - two on the nightstand, one on the bench at the foot of the bed. you light each of them gently.

"set the mood." his voice is flat, twinging slightly with a hard jealousy that nearly has you floating. 

"that's right." you nod, lighting the candles with a gentle smirk. he hums, crossing his arms as you cross to his side, lighting the candles and avoiding his eyes, suddenly very aware of the central piece of furniture in the room - your bed - and the lack of any chairs or couches. 

"did you bring a lotta men into this room t'set the mood?" he asks suddenly, sending a wave of arousal through you. you hide your smirk as you turn back to him, illuminated by the flicker of candlelight. the implication of his words - did you - like he knows that you're only sleeping with him now. that he likes it that way. 

you nod, "only the nice ones." your voice is nearly a purr; his eyes are dark pools, widening in the abyss of desire that threatens to swallow you both whole. his hands find purchase on your hips as you tilt your head. 

"Ian?" he counters - both of you know the answer - but you don't mind leaning in to that curling, angry monster of jealousy that hides itself as indifference.

"maybe." you retort, leaning closer to him, tilting your head to keep eye contact. "it's always so much better when it seems romantic. they're not as selfish. less rough-" you see his eyes flicker when your hand coming to trail over his broad chest. "let me cum as much as I want." 

of course, this was a fib. there were scarce numbers of people you let into your bed as is - even fewer who ever made you cum at all. Joel surely knows this - but his hands tighten around you all the same. "s'that right?" he asks, head tilting down to stare deep into you. you swallow, nodding with a grin. "it was much more civilized. and they weren't afraid to ask me to drinks or to come have dinner." 

his smirk drops and, for a moment, a pang of guilt hits you; you hadn't meant to bring that up, in fact the prospect of going on a date with Joel scares you more than most things in the world - but he moves on quite quick. 

"how many times?" he says instead, cutting off your spiraling thoughts. your confusion must show on your visage; Joel tilts his head, staring at you sternly, expectantly. "how many times did he make you cum?" 

you blink, trying your best to continue your little white lie, but instead, your voice shakes out, "th-three." you admit. the smirk that curls under his stubble sends a flicker of dread through your gut - he's seeing straight through you.

you've cum three times with only one man - he's standing right in front of you, and he certainly knows it.

but he likes to play the game. so he nods, "okay, baby. three. I can beat three." he says simply, thumbs starting to rub slow circles into the skin exposed above your waistband. your cheeks heat, "wh-what?" you ask dumbly, watching the twitch of a grin that flickers across his skin in the dewy glow of the candlelight. 

he shrugs, "been dreamin' about tasting that pretty little cunt all week." 

your eyes widen - a hot coil of arousal swirls in your core as you stare up at him, wishing you'd swigged that whisky that lies over at Joel's in the dark like he had, if only for the courage. 

because mutely, you've realized this is the first time anything has been initiated between you without an argument - and by Joel, nonetheless. he seems almost bashful when you look back at him.

"why'd you wait this long, then?" you ask, trying to sound coy but instead sounding very aroused, out of breath. 

he lifts a coy brow. "waitin' for you to set the mood, I guess." 

you stare at him for a moment.

his eyes flicker in some foreign kind of shyness, and then it occurs to you; you nearly burst out in laughter. "-was that a joke?" 

your heart skips a beat when Joel lets out a small smile.

it's warm, syrupy - full of light. you nearly forget why you're laughing. "maybe. don't matter." 

he seems so soft, so shy - as if embarrassed that he's admitting how bad he's wanted you all week. like you haven't been the same way.

but you can't seem to let it go - "a joke, from crabby old Mr. Miller?" 

but you knew it'd come, using his name like that.

his hand is strong when he grabs your jaw, gentle but stern, and fighting his own smile - the smile lines around his eyes glowing and beautiful. you wish you got to see them more. 

"doll, I thought we've talked about bein' respectful." he lifts a brow and you nod, swallowing your laughs quickly as his hand squeezes on your cheeks. "now, we've made it look real nice in here, haven't we?" 

you take a moment before realizing he's waiting for an answer - you stand taller, nodding, "yes, sir." you agree, fighting the growing heat within you. 

he nods, "'s right. so I'll treat you real nice, just like the boys you talk about." he sneers, weakening your knees. he moves you both slowly toward the mattress, tilting his head, "do you want that?" 

does he even have to ask?

"yes, please, I want it." you agree, the desire to have him between your thighs growing unbearable. "we need'ya to come three times. you're going to count for me, aren't you?" 

you wish more than anything you could defy such saccharine, sweet condescension from the man in front of you - but you've always been weak for him and his cruel mouth. you nod, staring up at his dark eyes, letting him push you onto the mattress gently. you faintly wish you'd taken the time to make your bead neatly this morning - but the thought is pulled from you as you note Joel's sudden hesitation. you tilt your head, about to ask if he's okay, when he abruptly speaks. 

"you're so fuckin' pretty, darlin'." he says suddenly, looking at you with that exact stare from earlier on his couch; your heart flips as you stare up at him, swallowing. his hands come to your shoulders, moving until he's standing flush against the edge of the mattress, your thighs spread open for him to caress your neck gently. your heart pounds at the stark honesty of his words. 

"beautiful." he whispers, feather-light touches over your neck, your chest shuddering and breaths short, staring in silence. "d'you know that?" 

he's being uncharacteristically soft, and an inkling in your mind wonders if it's all a show - never would Joel Miller willingly be kind in such a manner. so giving, so... loving. 

that panic that often finds you in the more tender moments flares up. you swallow thickly, "are you gonna get to it, or just stand there and stare at me?" you snap, the panic rising at his words. 

his slow movements upon you stop, his eyes meeting yours sharply. something changes in him, a shift that is foreign and also familiar; as if snapping out of some trance and back into his original state.

"I'll do whatever the hell I want to." he snaps, "and you're gonna take it because I'm choosing to be nice to you." his voice is unforgiving - the cold tone with which you're used to. where you're safe, unafraid of what lies beneath tender caresses or words. "you hear me?" 

you swallow down heat, a pool leaking into your panties - you're unsure if it's the way he was softly caressing you or the roughness of his words - probably both. "yes, Joel." 

he lifts a brow, correcting you. "sir." 

you swallow, nodding. "yes, sir." he leans over, kissing the crown of your head gently. "that's good. now I don't want to hear another fucking word out of you unless you're counting for me." he stares down out you, skin glowing under the scruff of his facial hair light up by the glow of the candles. he nods at your silence, a small smirk. "always liked you better when you're fucked so stupid you can't get a word out, anyways." 

you don't dare speak, but you shoot him a withering glare, one that has him chuckling. "y'always act like such a brat, but you always end up doing what I tell you, don't you?" 

you stare at him, your heartbeat in your throat, sat below him with your neck craned up. he raises his brows, hand coming to caress your jaw, "yeah, you do." he nods, "pussy can't get enough, huh?" 

he's speaking in rhetorical, but you still want to slap him across the cheek.

you press your thighs closer but any kind of relief is prevented by his own legs as he stands between them. he leans forward, then, one hand pushing your jaw back until you're forced to look up to the ceiling; his other, snaking around your hips to thumb at the hem of your top. 

his breath is hot as it hits your earlobe. "s'okay, I can't get enough of this pussy, either." he whispers, teeth nipping at your soft skin.

you sharply exhale as his hands tug on your top, releasing the looser buttons until it's held by only two of them, near your collarbones. he hums lowly, fingers rising to undo them himself. your skin is a wasteland of goosebumps, anxiously waiting for his touch. 

he groans when you let the top slide off of you, your bare chest glowing alight by the candles. his eyes swallow you whole, amiring every part of you; your face burns warm, even as his hand trails one light finger down, over the swell of your left breast and brushing against your perked nipple. 

"knew you weren't wearin' a bra." he grunts, his teeth scraping over your throat, "saw it the moment y'walked through my door. sat all pretty on my couch, teasin' me in this top." he growls, hands sliding over your shoulders to grope at your breasts. 

you let out a sudden sigh - you hadn't noticed the baited breath that'd been held in your lungs the moment Joel'd pushed you onto the bed - you feel about to burst with need, your eyes pleading up at him. "sounds like you were just lookin' for it." you snap, eyes narrowing as you grow unwilling to play such games with Joel. 

he wastes no precious moment; the smack is delivered light and playful to your right breast, stinging in pleasure as you gasp in a breath. his hand soothes over it even as he sneers in your face, leaning into your space, "did I tell you you could speak?" 

you glare defiantly, "I thought we'd established by now that you always let me get what I want. you might even want it more than I do." 

his hand finds its old home against your throat; holding you towards him, not restricting your airway but claiming you anyways. you feel another gush of arousal at the move, his eyes glaring into you. "oh, you'll get what you want, sweetheart." he says, voice holding no kindness, but an ominous amount of sincerity. "gonna be real nice to ya. all you're gonna do is sit here and look pretty. can you count to three?" he asks, voice rude. you glare back at him, "obviously." 

he smirks, "we'll see." 

and then he starts. 

you aren't sure what you expected, but Joel wasn't lying when he said he was going to treat you nice. caresses over your skin, growing clammier by the minute- his clothes, still on and still wet from the downpour, sticking to his broad shoulders and expanse of his chest. his lips pepper over your neck, your jawline, teasing the corners of your mouth and releasing a cacophony of butterflies before dipping back down to your chest. 

his hands are so large, gentle and intentional as they slide over the warmth of your skin. "pretty girl." he mutters, leaning so that one knee corners you, pushing you backwards until you're laying back on the mattress. you shutter a gasp as his thumbs and forefingers find your nipples, thumbing over them and sending currents of pleasure through you. 

your whimpers and soft gasps are swallowed up by the sound of the storm against the roof, the cold house warming up by the second. he watches with lidded eyelids as his fingers twist your nipple, eliciting a sharp gasp of pain from you, pleasure blossoming through your body. you squirm, but he soon grows impatient, standing back and grabbing onto your ankles, tugging you towards the edge of the bed. 

"keepin' all these slutty candles around, huh? how long you've been wanting to use these with me?" he asks gently, his fingers fumbling with your waistband. you help him, shoving them down your legs along with your panties, tossing them to his left. 

"the candles aren't the ones that are slutty." you gasp as he pulls you closer to his hips, lifting you slightly of the mattress. his hard cock, separated from your yearning cunt by his denim, presses deliciously into you. he actually laughs at this; a shake of his head and a flutter of his eyelashes. "y'got that right." 

he doesn't tease you like you'd expected - no, instead one finger circles your slit, gathering the sopping slick that leaks from you before gently sliding into your desperate heat. 

you mewl loudly, eyes scrunching shut in pleasure. his finger is thick, warm; curling slightly as he slowly thrusts it into you. he hums lowly, one hand lowering you to the mattress then sliding up your skin to palm at your tits - they're stained with a few lovebites, brazen and still lined with excess of Joel's spit. it makes you shiver in pleasure. "that's it, baby." he growls lowly, "tight, real tight for me." sweat lines your brow as a low coil grows in your abdomen. 

you nearly speak out of sheer habit several times, jolting when he hits your sweet spot repeatedly, hand flying to his hair and holding tight; he groans at that, deep and sweet. your eyes fall to his bulge and your hands move to palm him eagerly; he hisses in pleasure but the fingers not inside you catch your hands.

"not right now, sweetheart. not gon' be selfish, right? 's all about you." 

when he adds a second finger, you're already squirming, regretting your doubt that he'd tease you. he's excruciatingly slow, gentle - his hand slides up to hold you by the throat, pushing you against your mattress as he starts to curl his fingers, thrusting harder. 

you moan deeply as he finds your spot; your clit aches, neglected and throbbing, and your hand almost moves to relieve yourself before you second guess yourself and remain with your hands on his bicep.

you sigh, eyes rolling back as he fucks his fingers into you, wishing more than anything that his mouth was on you. or his cock in you.

his hand is a steady warmth against your throat and you know he can likely feel all the failed words and moans as they die out in your throat. he grins, fucking you steady with two fingers, "is there somethin' you wanna say, baby?" he asks, feigning genuine concern. 

you groan out in frustration, that hot simmer growing as pleasure streaks through you. you glare at him, surely an amusing sight with the tears of frustration in your eyes. he tuts, pouting lightly. "c'mon, you can say it." 

you swallow thickly at his permission, his hand peeling away from your throat momentarily to caress your jawline with his thumb. "use- use your mouth. please," you gasp, desperate as you move your hips against his fingers. he hums, "what, y'can't cum like this?" he asks, his fingers starting to pick up their pace. you grip his forearm and neck, gasping as your back arches from the mattress. 

his fingers drag over your slick channels, the noise of your pleasure echoing as you nod, face crumpling in ecstasy. "fuck," you whimper, tugging on the nape of his neck. 

he smiles, a dark thing in the dim light. "bet you can. let's see it, sweetheart." 

you groan as the pad of his thumb finds your swollen clit; explosions of light appear behind your eyelids as he adds a third finger, his thumb rubbing circles around your sensitive bud. 

his hand leaves your throat to press against your stomach; "y'feel that, darlin'?"

the pressure nearly pushes you over the edge, your thighs shaking as you grab for the bedsheets, hands leaving Joel in the shock of your nearing orgasm.

the noises echo in your ears as his pace picks up impressively; your knees shake as they start to close, your muscles seizing in pleasure. your whine is higher than normal as you squeeze around his fingers, white hot pleasure spreading. 

you cum with your head tossed back, legs closing tightly as one of his hands tries to pry them open, fingers fucking you through your high.

you pulse, riding your high with stuttered breaths, fingers twisted into the sheets as he pumps his own into you languidly. 

you remember wryly what Joel had asked of you, and you croak through a dry throat, "o-one."

you feel a huff of breath against your cheek before he hums. "that's good, baby." he murmurs, watching your cunt twitch, your arousal leaking out of you around his fingers.

you moan lowly as his fingers leave you, rising to his own lips to taste you; his eyes stay on yours as he palms himself lightly. you eagerly swallow, shifting your hips towards where he stands. yes, you need him in you-

he shakes his head at you as throws your legs away from him - you watch in shock as he starts to move. he pulls himself onto the mattress, laying upon your pillows, looking at you expectantly. "c'mere, baby." he mutters.

you blink at him, seeing his expression and slowly crawling to straddle him. your clit bumps against the denim of his crotch as you slowly rolls your hips over his, his straining cock delicious against you. 

his hands find your hips and force your movements to halt with a strong grip. you stare at him, feeling embarrassed and confused, unsure what he wants. 

he shoots you a look when you try to press yourself against him again, his fingers digging into your hips- "if y'think I'm fucking you tonight, you've clearly misunderstood."

your face must drain of blood as you stare at him, heartbeat pounding in your chest as you squirm. he moves down slightly, nodding upwards towards the top of your bedframe. "c'mere. and hold onto the edge if you can't handle it." 

with a shaky breath and butterflies in your chest, you let him guide you upwards, until you're hovering over his face. 

you let out a breath of desire, already throbbing in need; he stares up at you, "thought you needed my mouth on you?" he sneers. "play with your tits, baby, and ride my face." your fingers rise to your breasts, teasing your nipples gently as you whimper. 

"now." he growls, hands pulling your hips down onto his face.

you gasp in shock, forehead and hands hitting the wall behind the bedframe as you jolt to stare at him. his tongue drives a fat lick through your soaked cunt, tasting your spend as your hips buck. your clit brushes against his nose- fuck, his nose; strong and slanted, beautiful as you press against it once again. pleasure shoots through you, curling your toes as you press against him. 

all you can feel is Joel - your hands return to your breasts, if anything so that you have something to hold on to as ecstasy courses through you. his tongue circles your entrance lightly before sliding into you. you groan out, head falling back as you grind against his face; his groan reverberates in your cunt as a jolt of satisfaction causes your legs to weaken. "feels so good," you whimper, breathlessly; you don't even care that Joel told you not to speak, all you can think of is his tongue on you. the heat of your second crest starts to bubble over already; you let out a long moan. 

you feel one of his thick fingers slide over the globe of you ass, gathering your slick before prodding gently at the tight ring of muscle below your cunt.

you gasp in shock, desire flooding you as need spurs you on, "fuck- please, sir, yes." you gasp, hoping the honorific will inspire him to give you what you really want.

he does. his finger breaches your hole slowly as you keen forward, gripping onto the headboard. he moans into your pussy as gushes of pleasure gather from the sensation and you whimper lowly, the feeling of his nose against your clit mixing deliciously as he slides his finger deeper into your ass.

if there's a better thing than having Joel's mouth on your cunt, it's that he can't speak like this; you start to move your hips, riding over his nose and fucking back onto his digit as he groans lowly.

"fuck- fuck." you groan, legs quivering, threatening to give out. he hums, leaning to chase your pussy as you move up, starting to move his finger inside your tight channel, his eyes staring up at you; you lock eyes as you thumb a nipple and your eyes roll back at the wide-blown pupils that meet you. 

his hands, large and strong, pull you back against him, cementing you as he laps at your pussy, fucking his finger into you quicker and bringing you so close to your orgasm that you fall back slightly; your hand stabilizes yourself on his clothed chest; rolling your hips, the new angle sets your cunt into a wild frenzy of clenching, feeling incredibly close and chest stuttering as you near your high. 

his finger leaves you suddenly as he pulls you towards him again - you barely have time to whimper at the loss of feeling before his tongue is flicking over your clit again, sending streaks of hot pleasure through you.

he's delving into you once again, his nose rubbing against you, your hips sliding over his face and finally pushing you over the edge. 

your yelp of pleasure tails into a moan as you roll your hips, cumming on his face as you ride it out once again, legs shaking impossibly. you're muttering swears mixed in with his name as you ride out your second orgasm, shaking in desire.

"two," you whimper, sweat breaking on your forehead as one of his hands slides over your thigh, raking blunt nails over your skin. but he continues, your cunt sensitive as you jolt away from him as you catch your breath; you slide off of his chest to the mattress, your whole body tremoring with pleasure.

his face is flushed, chin glistening with your juices as he sits up, muttering, "don't you move." 

you stop your movements, staring with hot cheeks and a swollen cunt as he turns, hands finding one of your pillows. 

he leans forward to prop your head upon it; you gape at him in confusion, still pleased at the relief of strain in your neck but knowing you'll cum one more time before he's satisfied.

your body already yearns for it - you realize with a hot flash of arousal his intentions as he slinks backwards then, sliding to his knees. 

your legs, despite yourself, spread for him. he smirks, "look at you, sweetheart, so willing for me."

you bite your lip, "just make me cum again," you say breathlessly, finding your strength again. 

he raises his brows, "you sure you can handle it?" he asks, his palm sliding to cup your puffy cunt, the stimulation making you gasp. and then he slaps you, landing a harsh pressure on your clit that has you yelping, knees closing.

his other hand parts your legs, smacking you repeatedly until you yelp out, "yes!" 

he stops his ministrations, instead rubbing your mess of juices all around you, causing you to sigh a gentle moan. he presses a kiss to your inner knee as he hums. 

"I want eyes on me, sweetheart. can you do that?" 

your eyes flick down to him as he settles between your quivering legs with a grin. a gentle kiss above your mound that has your eyes fluttering. "yes," you say breathlessly. 

he rewards you with his lips against your cunt once again; it's immediately sending you over in stimulation, your legs tightening around his head before you gasp at the feeling, his tongue flattening over your swollen clit and plunging again into your entrance. 

it's not long - your body is buzzing with electric desire, throbbing and jolting every time Joel's hands spread your legs open wider; your ankles curl and press into his back as his tongue alternates between flicking your clit and stroking as far into you as he can.

he's groaning into you, using his fingers to spread you further open for him; eating you out like it's his favorite meal. you're not sure if you'll stay conscious after your next high - you feel it creeping towards you and you whimper to Joel, starting to feel too sensitive. 

"Joel- it's-" you whimper, pulling back and starting to crawl away on your hands, your legs tremoring with pleasure, moving up the mattress. he growls, hands grabbing you and pulling you back to him.

"not done with you yet." he murmurs, lips attaching back to your cunt. you buck your hips at the pleasure of overstimulation, hips moving away. 

his hand grabs your ass, pulling you once again towards him, "stop fuckin' squirming. thought you wanted to get to three." 

"I do," you whimper, gasping as his tongue traces around your pussy lips, tasting you and groaning into you. his face glistens with your juices and it's everything you can do to keep staring at him; he glares at you, "then don't complain." 

his tongue licks a stripe up you again, swirling and sucking on your clit, and within moments you're nearing your high.

then suddenly everything - your fingers twist painfully as your body goes rigid, hitting your orgasm with a scream, your legs shutting around him and muscles spasming.

"that's right, sweetheart, ride it out." he mutters into you as you shutter, unable to form words but babbling his name incessantly as you push yourself up the mattress, away from the stimulation again as pain and pleasure swirl around your body.

fuck, you almost- you felt something different about that last one. he pulls himself until he's leaning over you, "think you're forgetting somethin'." he teases, his hands running up until they palm your tits.

you groan, hands shaking as they push against the mattress, the warmth of his body delicious. your eyes are fluttered shut, "two." you realize your miscalculation as it leaves your mouth -"n-no-" your eyes widen at your slip-up and you shake your head, embarrassed; your mind too consumed by Joel to fully function.

you wish he would just fuck you - his cock is unbelievably hard straining against his jeans and you urge to take him in any way you can. you'd let him have anything. 

Joel sneers at you, amused by your flustered state. "d'they teach kids to count in these fuckin' FEDRA schools anymore?" he growls, slapping your pussy once more and making you yelp.

if you'd been paying more attention to his words, you'd have snarled that you learned how to count in public school, before the outbreak - and that he's a fucking idiot; you can't, however, as you're slapped on your sensitive clit once again.

fuck - a streak of euphoria through you at the jolt has your back arching. 

"shut up, Joel." you whimper, "can you just- please, can you fuck me?" you ask, brows knitting together. he sighs, pulling back to stare at you with a stern stare. "just a little bit?" you beg, a ravenous force spurring in your blood. you need him.

"god damn it." he snaps, "I'm bein' so good to you, and all you can do is bitch and moan about my cock. got you so fuckin' obsessed, don't I?"

you groan in frustration, half of your body screaming to let yourself rest and half of you searing with desire and frustration. his words fluster you; even more so as he leans forward, hand spreading you apart to roll his clothed hips against your bare ones gently.

you let out a mewl, hips jerking back at the directness of the denim on your clit, the sharp sensitivity hitching in your throat. you ache and clench around nothing, your cunt begging to be filled by him. "please, Joel. I'll do anything." you insist smally, eyes fluttering shut. his lips ghost over your hairline and then peck your cheek in a shocking show of kindness. 

"you can take it?" he murmurs against your lips. hope sparks in your heart and your bare ankles wrap around his his, pressing him against you, "yes, yes." you promise, nodding eagerly. he hums in thought.

"I'll fuck you with my fingers, then." 

you gasp, hips jolting when his fingers spread your sopping lips, his eyes intent on your face as he circles your entrance. the tip of a finger notches against you and you flutter around him; your hands grasp onto his forearm and shoulder, staring up with a gasp. you're aching - you need him, any of him. 

"Jesus, look at'you." he groans, muttering as his head dips to watch your pussy suck his fingers in with ease. he slowly pushes until he's knuckle-deep, groaning, "greedy little thing." 

but his eyes stare and he doesn't move; you take it upon yourself to rock your hips, gasping at the pleasure you find as you take him even deeper.

he looks desperate, with his eyes wide, curls wet, mussed, and peppered on his head. "baby, I've gotta taste you." he grunts, suddenly sliding back down to lay between your legs; you mewl in shock as his mouth attaches to your clit in moments.

his fingers, then, start to thrust. gentle, at first, but you're so stimulated you shake your head, "can't-I can't." you whimper.

he shakes his head, the action notching his nose once again against your clit and sending shots of euphoria through you. you feel numb and on fire, eyes rolling back.

"you can, and you will." he mutters into your pussy, tongue sliding across the sopping plane of you as his fingers pick up their pace; your thighs clench shut around his head and squeeze - you can't help it - and he moans a genuine sound of pleasure at the feeling. 

"you were so ready to when it was my cock. maybe I should use some of your toys you love tellin' strangers at bars about so much." he grunts, "make this little pussy cream even more."

your face burns as your eyes snap to him; a shiver of interest is soon overcome with the knowledge that you couldn't handle that; you glare at his words, anyways. that was one time, to him. when you were drunk. sure, not the best first impression, but- look where it got you. 

you shake your head as you writhe below him, his lips returning to your sensitive mound to suck harshly as his fingers start to pump harder into you. he decides for himself with a hum, pulling away slightly, "no, you taste too fuckin' good. gonna stay here all night." 

you believe him. 

he tears you apart, tongue lapping you up, twisting his fingers, curling them as he slides them into you; the noise of your cunt wetly taking Joel's fingers and mouth make your eyes roll back.

he's everywhere - your fingers twist once again into the bedsheets, your toes curling as all of your muscles tense. 

his fingers leave you suddenly, the feeling leaving you to suck a gasp into your lungs as he trails his hand over the valley of your breasts and into your mouth; you suck your juices off of his fingers eagerly, your mouth falling open in a yelp when he nips gently at your clit. 

you jerk away, knowing you're sharply close to your next orgasm, your body tremoring and tears forming in your eyes.

the overwhelming pleasure is building immensely and you squirm away from him with a gasp hands coming to cover your pussy as it spasms, aching and leaking arousal.

"J-Joel- I can't," you wail. 

he tuts, "c'mon, taste fuckin' amazing. love this little pussy." his arms snake around your hips, dragging you back and smacking your own hands away from your core. you sigh at the gentle swirl of his tongue through your swollen folds, hands carding into his hair and gripping tight. he mutters it quietly, "jus' one more, sweetheart, you can do it." 

you whimper, a tear streaming down your cheek and onto your neck, "I can't, it feels so good, I can't-" you whimper, a direct contradiction to the shaking quiver of your thighs as you roll your hips, savoring the feel of Joel's thick tongue against you. 

he hums lowly at your hip's movements and it makes you scream; the vibration and the nudge of his nose on your clit too much- 

it hits you all at once. 

you can't see anything; your hand flies to the sheets as one hand pushes Joel hard away, euphoria slamming into you harder than you ever have.

you feel the pads of his fingers, swirling over your clit as your hips buck wildly. you're sobbing, a state of bliss you've never felt before. your orgasm lasts much longer than you'd expected, euphoria rolling in waves that keep coming to shore.

when you come to, pussy still clenching in residual flutters, you have to suck in a deep breath.

through your tears, you see Joel's face; the bottom half is soaked in your juices, even the mattress is damp from your high - oh. you didn't know you could do that. 

he presses a kiss to your thigh - you jolt, whimpering lightly. he shushes you, hands finding your hips as you shake, trying to come down from that high. "four." he mutters, smirking as you groan, your head falling back. "fuck." you hiss, throat raw. 

"that wasn't so hard, was it sweetheart?" he snarks, still not moving from between your thighs, though you're sure they're dead weight on top of his shoulders. says him.

"fuck you, Joel-" but your words stop short and you gasp, hands flying as you feel Joel's tongue lick up the side of your cunt; "I can't Joel-" you sob, shaking your head, "'s too much."

you're so overstimulated you feel like you're floating -  but after your shock you realize he's avoiding the sensitive areas, gently swirling his tongue in your wetness. tasting you just for the sake of it. he just shushes you once again- "hey, hey," he soothes, hand petting your hip gently, "just tastin' it. gotta clean you up." you shouldn't, but you feel a hot flood of arousal just at his words. your hands relax in his hair as he slowly moves his mouth around you, avoiding your oversensitive clit mercifully. 

"you just rest. did real good, sweetheart. was so fuckin' sexy." you can't rest, though your body slumps and your eyes shut - his tongue runs lazy, thick circles around your pussy, gentle. you can tell - it's not for you, and maybe it never really was; Joel's loving it, and he's not planning on stopping anytime soon. 

and you stay like that - eyes closed, catching your breath and calming your tears, as Joel's hands run soothing shapes over your side and thighs, his mouth not leaving you for a second.

it was minutes, could have been almost an hour, and you slowly fell from your teetering edge of unraveling; instead, a slow burn was once again ignited in your stomach as Joel lapped away at you, eating you out gently and devotedly.

occasionally there was a groan or a moan from him, gentle - or a mutter into you about how good you tasted. you'd move your hips gently when something fluttered deliciously and you chased that feeling, thinking of all Joel's words tonight which have made you flush - and most of them praise. 

he's like a man starved. 

and by the time you start to climb that hill again, your muscles aching but pussy fluttering in desire, you're burning up. you cry again, gently.

he brings you to orgasm a fifth time with a moan into your pussy and your hand gripping his own for dear life.

he laps everything that spills from your weeping cunt as you let out a scream of his name, swallowed by the noise of the outside thunder. you shake and tremor, blissed beyond anything you've felt, tired and spent.

he holds himself to you and you have to twist, crawling away from the devilish mouth that calls your name, his hands gentle as he lets you go; finally having mercy on your destroyed body.

you feel like you're floating, unable to stop shaking. 

it's then that he chooses to strip down to his boxers; you watch him with shock as he does so, unsure if he's going to propose you take his cock now - you don't know if you could.

instead, he drops a kiss to your forehead. "I'll be back." 

he's in there long enough for you to deduce that he's decided to take care of himself on his own, in the shower - a decision that disappoints you but also seems very thoughtful. there's that flicker of selflessness you see sometimes in Joel - the things he tries to hide.

you hear the faucet running in the bathroom and when he comes back, there's a washcloth and a cup of water for you.

he doesn't wipe between your legs until you're done shaking - and after, you sit there, your hand curled around his bicep, while he soothes over a few strands of your hair.

"gonna need new candles." you mutter, nodding to where they all sit, dripped down to within an inch, wax splattered atop your table and over the side of the foot chest. 

"I'll get you a million candles 'f you let me taste you like that again." his chest rumbles as he speaks. a flicker of butterflies once again appear in your chest and you shrug, "I know I said I like when it isn't rough..." you trail off, face burning, "-but none of them ever did... any of that. and I really liked that." 

besides, you both knew the moment it left your mouth that your words weren't true - in honesty, Joel has done nothing but rough you up and you always crawl back for more. you wouldn't have it any other way.

he scoffs, "good thing you're mine now." he mutters, "taste like fuckin' heaven. could watch you squirm all day." he drops a kiss to your temple and your eyes bore down at your lap; his words hold a semblance of possessiveness - not unfamiliar to this thing that you have with him, but now much more meaningful to you. why is your heart fluttering so fast, a grin growing on your face? 

he clears his throat after a moment, shifting to sit up. in the process, your arm falls from his and you turn to look at him. 

"do you remember last time I was in here?" he asks suddenly and you have to snort. "was dying of infection, yes I remember." 

he sends you a look. "you were not dyin'. don't be dramatic." he counters, eyes narrowed.

you grin, rolling your eyes, "you were the one who was acting like it was such a big deal." you defend with a shake of your head. he sighs, "well I-" he stops short and it occurs to you that he's having trouble getting words out.

you look into his eyes gently, and he's searching yours. you're not sure what he's looking for. "shit," he mumbles, looking slightly lost - you've seen him like this, before - once. 

"I'm tryin' to be less...mean. when it counts." he says intently, looking at you. "y'know, after we talked, and I..." 

he trails off but you wait patiently for him to find his words.

he finds them eventually. "-well, that time I was here, when I helped you with your bandage..." he stutters his way through it and takes a deep breath. "I said something, that night." he starts again, running his hand over his face.

"you tend to say a lot of things when we're together." you supplement, your heartrate picking up. you're starting to feel your fight or flight kick in. 

he rolls his eyes. "yeah, well. I said... that you were probably hopin' I would want t'make you my girl." oh. yes, you remember that. "-and I said that it was pathetic you'd think that." he says, not looking at you.

you too look away; yes, he's said many cruel things to you - that one, in particular, has haunted you many nights after waking up from dreams of warmth and sunshine and Joel's hand in yours. 

"one of your best lines yet." you say, unsure what else to do. your gut twists in rejection at just the memory - then, it'd been in the heat of an argument and you'd just used it as kindling to fuel your fire, but it has since become a more prevalent proof every time you start to think too much about the what ifs. 

Joel isn't amused by your words. "I'm just saying, if you did ever want somethin' like that - not that you would, but...it wouldn't be pathetic." he finally finishes. "it was a stupid thing to say." he mumbles quickly, still looking away - through the dim glow of the dying candles, you can see the red on his cheeks. 

you feel hot, the implications of his words. he wouldn't mind if you wanted him to be yours. if you wanted to be his. your stomach flips.

grazing your hand over his back, you brush your lips to his shoulder. "you didn't mean it. we say a lot of things we don't mean. both of us." you answer softly, your lips caressing his bare shoulder. you feel the goosebumps under you across his skin at the touch and fight a small smile.

“remember when I tried to hit you?” you ask, thinking back to that disastrous dinner and the delicious aftermath on his foyer floor.

he smirks, finding the courage to look down at you. “think ‘bout it a lot.”

you hit his shoulder playfully, shaking your head with your own wry grin. of course he does.

he looks at you faintly, a hint of a smile flickering over his face. "we've been through a lot of shit together." he murmurs. he eyes the dresser across from you, lit up by a candle; you don't know how, but somehow he pinpoints exactly where you've hidden your gun, in your sock drawer. and he probably knows exactly why it's hidden.

"-don’t get me wrong, I like this thing we got goin’ for us, with the teasing and fighting - but I just want you to know I trust you. and I care about you." he says just as gently, his face flustered. your face heats at his words, a gust of affection blowing through you at his bashfulness.

you smile, leaning in to him; your hands snake around his neck as you gently pull his face to you. he finds more words, "sometimes you're a pain in my ass-" he raises a brow before you can snap back at him- "-but nothing you could do is... pathetic. 'specially not thinking something like that."

his eyes are large and hold none of the desire that they did thirty minutes ago; instead they hold something much deeper, more vulnerable. you don't feel scared by it.

you smile, "I trust you, Joel." his eyes stare into yours unafraid. "thank you. I care about you too."

and you're not ready to say everything else to him - no, not yet, even though your heart's known it for a while and so have you, somewhere in the back of your mind. 

you do want something like that. you want exactly that. 

"-and," he starts, "since this was your idea of something more civilized," he sends you a look through the corner of his eye; you know this isn't the worst of your sins committed with Joel, but you recognize his sentiment with a smirk, thinking back to your earlier words. you hide your growing smile as he adds:

"-maybe we could get drinks sometime." 

taglist closed - this is the last fic that will be using my taglist. moving on, I've made a notifs blog - @tremendumnotifs - for ppl to follow for notifications. tysm!!]

@elissaaa @satansgoatt @queerponcho @bbyanarchist @lapricot @umavvitch @asreadbyaj @dinsbaby @cottoncandytomu @silencesscreams @silkiers @switchbladedreamz @missannwinchester @abs-2020 @afandomidiot @cosm1c-babe @rogersbarnesxx @carleenphillips-blog @bonnibuckets @nightlovechild @jazzyspams @girlboybug @cannolighost @pastelnap  @userpedros @feministfanboi @buckyhoney @frogers @grhowls @daddy-din @gothoppered @notsosecretspy @okyeeaaahhhh @thirdoffive @totallynotastanacc @robbatlover @cutesyscreenname  @wannab-urs  @soooooyesbutactually-no @redhotkitchen @omlwhatamidoinghere @joelapologist2001 @leeeesahhh @bitchyikes   @bigboiseason123 @furseal1986 @mumma-moonchild @kamcrazy123 @pseudonymist @xyz32   @xlengueterax @suzmagine @sushiwriterhere @yourwinchesterbros @littlesuckyducky @worhols @hearthrooob @thatgingefromtheinternet @grhowls @letterstopedrito @those-late-night-feels @trashmuseum @holeforjoel @charismatic-writer @nervous-plant @sushiumex​  @undrthelights  @tarcinblue​ @fleursdecherise @alltheseperfectimperfections @whorror-s @thecasualnope @scarletthefierce

[bahbah-bee]

Snatched (Yandere!Harpy!Taehyung x Reader x Yandere!Harpy!Yoongi) - Part 1

Warnings: Dark, Dystopian, Innuendos, Discrimination, Rape (Discussion), Kidnapping, Misogyny, Descriptive Medicine, Unsettling Topics, eventual noncon (not this part). You have been warned.

Word Count: 8,200 Words

Summary: There were two important things to remember in this world: That harpies were stronger than humans and that helping others always came at a cost. You never seemed to understand that. Even when your clients warned you to run, you helped regardless. Even when your boss acted strange, you assisted him as needed. It isn't until you're in too deep that it occurs to you... you may be the next one snatched. (Polyamorous Taehyung + Jimin)

Inspired by Remember to be Gentle's Harpy Universe

@remember-to-be-gentle

Note: Yoongi is a very soft yandere in this compared to Taehyung. There is a lot of plot buildup, but once you get past that it gets super dark, so be prepared! This was originally supposed to be one part, but ended up being so long I had to split it into two. The second part will probably be uploaded within a few weeks.

Very little noise filled the city, and a chill ran through passerby’s as the temperature dropped. Rats scuttled along corners and dirt was kicked up by shoes. The sky was dark and twinkling stars could barely be seen along the horizon. The outskirts were usually abandoned by the Harpy folk, as it tended to be the dirtier and more crowded part of the city. However, it was more quiet and pleasant in the afternoon, with the 9:00 pm curfew taking place. You didn’t mind the curfew. It made things easier for you. You were less likely to be spotted this way.

“Hey (Y/N).” You turned your head. Little whisps of hair swished against the side of your neck, as you peered around. “This way through the back door. Quick!” A hushed whisper could be heard through a side door in the alley. A strand of ruby red hair was all you saw before the individual popped back inside. It wasn’t proper for individuals to be caught out this late, and anyone could easily lose their caste status.

Running through the side door, you scraped your muddy boots against the door mat, before quietly shutting the door. Not a moment could be wasted. All noise quieted for a moment, as around twenty heads swiveled to see who had entered the home. Once it was determined you weren't a threat, the chatter went back to a normal level. Though I guess dangerous business, couldn't be considered normal "chatter".

"Did you bring the medicine?" A voice asked expectantly from the corner. It was the girl who had let you in, maybe ten years of age at most. She was sat in a corner, with tattered clothes and bags around her eyes. Her fierce red locks had darkened around the edges due to soot. It was unclear the last time she had slept or even taken a bath. Her family clearly had not been given a higher status.

You nodded.

"Yeah, I did. Is she upstairs?" The girls petite fingers wrapped around your hand as she nodded and led you along. Callouses created a roughness to her palms that created friction between your hands. It was discouraged for young girls to be working at her age, but in the families of lower class, it was a necessary option to survive. It was understandable that callouses would occur, but it didn't make the grimace upon your face lesson any more. You were grateful your own family had not yet had to resort to your siblings working, but it didn't make you any less fearful of the day eventually occurring. You were grateful to Yoongi for that at least. You wouldn’t have to worry about them, with him watching over you.

As you ascended the stairs of the small home, you noticed small bits of your surrounding. It was very rare for humans to own property. Costs were always rising for housing, and those who could buy homes, often settled for the affordable minimalist settings. The walls were scraped up from wear and tear and you observed of an old family. You had no idea who they were, but that was not uncommon. These meetings always occurred that way; Always at a different location, run by different folk. You're ragtag group of people considered themselves a "rebellion”, though you rarely thought of yourself that way. You weren't interested in changing society or burning it to the ground, you just wanted to survive and not be in pain anymore. Most of the people around you felt the same way.

You could hear crying from around the corner. A woman in her mid twenties was on a cot in a room to your left. She had fiery red hair similar to that of the young girl and it was clear by the bags under her eyes and the similarly styled clothing that they were related. You quickly knelt before the young woman, and rustled through your satchel to find the bag of pills. Situations like this were always difficult for you. Pouring two little blue pills into your hand, you handed them over to the fragile woman gently. She tried to put on a smile in thanks, but it seemed to more into a grimace as the pills slid down her throat. You didn't need her gratitude, just the assumption that she'd be safe in the future.

After you both took a few more deep breaths, you explained what would happen.

"Those will make sure that nothing that occurred today will be permanent, I can assure you." You patted the hand held in yours. "Since you are within a 24 hour window of the incident, there is no chance you will be pregnant. I have other pills you should take from here on out, in case the same Harpy comes for you again." You paused. Stray tears streamed down her cheeks, and you shut your eyes to try to focus your thoughts. “For now, just take a lot of deep breaths. You’re gonna get through this. There are so many people that need you right now; Including your sister, right at your side." You slowly relinquished your hold on her hand, as her sister came to settle into her side on the cot. It creaked with old age, but it was clear the sisters weren't going anywhere tonight. Not with how distraught the older sibling was. You rose from the side of the bed, as there was nothing else you could do. As they settled into the sheets and the younger one sang to the older one, you took that as your clue to leave.

You slowly shut the door and took a few deep breaths as your back laid against the old wood. Resting your head against the door, you knew the two ladies were too wrapped up in comforting each other to hear anything outside. You had to hold yourself together for the meeting. Regardless of how, your eyes seemed to dampen around the edges for the young siblings. Humans could be just as dangerous if they sensed hesitancy. The ladies father, a man by the name of Robert, approached you from the corner of your eye. You had met the man only once, but had a feeling of what he was gonna say.

"So is he gonna come after her again? I can't have another Harpy taking my daughter. Not like they did my son." His arms wrapped around himself in a show of fear. A minute later, the clenching of the doorframe said enough of his current mental state. Robert lost his twenty two year old son a few years ago to a female Harpy. She had met him at a concert and decided his kind nature was a perfect reason to snatch him for herself. That's what it was always called. Being snatched. Harpies commonly looked for mates among humans, as they were the only other species that could perfectly breed for harpy children. They commonly enjoyed how much weaker humans were. It allowed for more control. Your parents had always warned you of your kindness. They said that you would be just like him. Just like those that were snatched.

"I can't guarantee she won't." You gave the man a sad side eye and a grimace that didn't help to ease his worries. "Harpies don't do one-night-stands or temporary relationships. If a harpy was who came after your daughter, then he'll be looking for her very soon. The higher ups would recommend that you maintain some distance and prepare for when he comes. That when he comes again, you converse in a civil manner and try to negotiate visiting times with her. But honestly," You leaned closer to the man. "If it were my daughter, I would fight to keep them away from her. Even if it meant I'd never see her again." A shrug was all you could muster, as you tried to seem calm about the whole thing. Of course it rattled you up, just like everyone else. You couldn’t show that though.

"It is your decision going forward though. But whatever you or your daughter do... do not let the harpy know of the drugs. Cause then she really will be trapped." And they will hunt you down for providing them to her. Finishing your conversation, you turned and left for your second priority of the night. This wasn't the first time you'd had a conversation like that, and you doubted it would be the last. Your kindness could only last for so long, before you could feel yourself burn out.

The commotion downstairs got louder and the noise seemed to drag more and more of the individuals spread out to the common room. The house that could've held maximum twenty people, now seemed to hold fifty, as everyone important in the small human neighborhood got together for a little meeting. These meeting's were monthly, mostly to check-in on individuals in the neighborhood and see how many people were still in the community. However, it also had a underlying goal of creating new ideas to stop the snatchings from occurring.

Crawling down the stairs slowly, you tried not to gain attention. You were just a nurse in charge of treating individuals; It wasn't your business to get mixed into politics. But apparently, that wasn’t how this night was gonna go.

"(Y/N)! I’m so glad you could come! We could really use your insight!" You sighed as you noticed two very familiar heads near the middle of the bickering crowd. It smelled of sweat and salt, and you grimaced at the bodies you passed. In the middle of the pack, you found two old friends of yours. Jisoo and Jennie. They both smiled before clapping you on the back.

"We were wondering where you were at. Though I guess duty comes first before dealing with us common folk.” There was a chuckle among the two of them. “They are about to start discussing better barricades on our doors.” Jisoo smiled at this and looked to the front of the room, where multiple men were standing. They were all handsome and young, though they all had a stern impression upon their faces. It made them look ten years older than they actually were. One of them stood out from the crowd a bit more than the others. As their eyes spread over the crowd, the smile on their face seemed to widen a bit more upon recognition of Jisoo.

"Calm down everyone! We've finally finished taking role, and I can gladly say that outside of one incidence that has occurred" Jennie made sad eye contact with you. "No one has been snatched in our community this past month." Everyone cheered at that, and you couldn't help a small smile coming to your face as well. “Now this doesn't mean we can't work hard and try be more safe at night.” A silence fell upon the crowd as they listened on in respect. “so on that note, we're meeting here to discuss better protect-" A weird sensation was felt against your right side. There was a shaking from your satchel.

Your pager had started vibrating. Oh goodness, not now! The tiny messaging box read "Human in labor. Dreary Avenue. STAT" This wasn't just something you could ignore, not if you wanted to lose your job. You cursed out loud gaining some attention from those nearby. Baekhyun, the man that had been speaking at the front, tilted his head in confusion, before understanding lit up his face at the pager you waved from the crowd. You mouthed a "I'm sorry" before you slipped out the backdoor.

The so-called "rebellion" didn't pay the bills in your home and unless you wanted your higher caste status revoked, you needed to prioritize your job. Even if it meant wanting to strangle Yoongi sometimes for his piss-poor planning.

You slipped the scrubs over your head, as you hazardously changed. There was no time to waste, as the mother to-be could be heard wailing from the other room. Exiting quickly, you ran over to where Yoongi was, in his long pristine white coat. Only two to three people could be in the room during labor, since Harpies tended to take up a lot of space, but as a human with no wingspan to have, you were able to easily slip passed him and assess the situation.

"Thank god you are here (Y/N), as I'm preparing the anesthetic, talk to the mother and see where she is at right now. " He made direct eye contact with you. "Please try to calm her down, she won't dilate as much if she's very tensed up."

You nodded and approached the sobbing women. The moment you entered her bedside, she clung to your arm with strength not commonly seen in a human. Her hands wrapped around your arms, and she left red marks upon the skin as she clawed at you in desperation. She had no wings upon her back and her smaller stature told you that she was not of the Harpy variety. This meant it was a Harpy-Human Pregnancy.

"Oh god, it hurts so much" She wailed " I-I can't, it's too much-"

"You CAN! Don't give up yet." You yelled out, as you grabbed hold of both of her hands and held them in your own. She sobbed harder. "You just need to hold on a little longer. I'm going to check how dilated you are right now, is that alright?” Her olive eyes locked on yours. Direct eye contact was pertinent with the patients, especially in a situation where they didn't feel safe.

"Yes, just please help me end this". She cried more as her grip on your hands loosened.

"I will do my best ma'am."

You passed shoulders with Yoongi as he went to go administer the local anaesthetic, and you went to go measure her cervix. She was only dilated seven centimeters, which wasn't good considering harpy infants required mothers to be twelve centimeters dilated, unlike human infants which required ten centimeters. You made eye contact and shook your head at yoongi to signal that she wasn't quite ready yet. He looked disappointed, but the look of determination on his face never disappeared.

This wasn't an easy job, but it was one that you had done numerous times. You and Dr. Min were a phenomenal duo. He was the doctor that handled all the harpy side of things, and you were the human nurse that assisted with the pregnant mothers. Human mothers with harpy children were more comfortable around a human provider, and harpies were willing to do whatever it took to make their spouses comfortable with their pregnancies. It also tended to be the only time that mated human were allowed in public, since human providers couldn't fly up to the nests.

You had been working under Yoongi for about two years now. As a doctor, he allowed you to work under him and practice medicine like you had dreamed about since you were a little girl. You were his private nurse, and worked with no other doctors. Your career was not common among humans, as harpy's were usually more educated and humans were not allowed to have specialized careers.

The world was dangerous for a little human. You couldn't ever remember a time when harpy's were not in charge and you had always grown up among the caste system. There was an order to everything and those who defied it usually disappeared. First class humans were those mated to harpy's. Second class humans were those deemed important by the government and not easily replaceable (AKA your status). Finally, third class humans were common individuals working a normal nine to five job. Third class humans always had to expect the worst. They barely paid enough to live and we’re always in danger of being snatched. Those of the second class, while not paid much more, had the opportunity to live their lives without worry of being snatched. The only way to mate a second class human, was to make an appeal to the government. However, the chances of that were rare and commonly Harpy's were impatient creatures that focused on the lower castes first, as to save themselves the trouble.

The lady in front of you yells out once again in pain, and you snapped out of your mind wandering. Contractions were a nightmare for pregnant mothers to deal with and it was your job to help soothe them.

"Ma'am can you take another deep breath for me?" You heard an audible gasp above you. "Okay, now hold that for seven seconds. One, two, three..." You helped her with her breathing excercises and as you went to check her progress again, you breathed a sigh of relief.

"She's ready Dr. Min!" He looked over at you as if in thankfulness and proceeded to whisper quietly to the lady. Yoongi and you switched positions, as this was the moment a human nurse was most needed for comfort with the mother, as compared to the medical side of things.

The way he jumped into action said enough about his experience. His broad shoulders and the way he looked at the mother, told her enough that his presence was the one dominating the room, and that this operation was gonna be a success. You trusted Yoongi to see this through.

After a long agonizing wait, a babies cry soothed everyone in that room.

You were happy that things had once again succeeded. You wouldn’t forgive yourself if they hadn’t. In that moment all you could feel was glee for a job well done, but Yoongi felt something different.

As Yoongi looked over to you, with sweat streaking across your forehead, and a smile on your face, he couldn't imagine a more wonderful person to have next to him in that moment.

You really were a phenomenal duo.

From a young age, you had heard about the possibility of being taken as a mate. Your parents were always worried about the “what ifs” in the world. They wanted to be ahead of anything that could occur in their lives. In control. So, the first time you heard about an arrangement with a harpy suitor, you were seventeen. It was merely brought into casual conversation and your parents saw it as "well if it's eventually going to happen, why don't we choose the young bird."

Those conversations always annoyed you. Whereas other families were scared of their children being whisked away in the middle of the night, your parents saw it as an opportunity. As long as they could control where you went and still had access in your life, it didn't matter if you spent the rest of your life being a wife and mother to harpy children. Or at least that's the way they saw it. The idea was to keep your head down and smile pretty. But you always wanted more than that. You wanted to do something with your life and be a unique individual that changed everyone for the better.

But you quickly learned that was not the fate for humans. As you graduated from high school and moved forward, you found it difficult to find jobs. Instead of encouraging you, your advisors recommended mate matching as a new and “joyous opportunity”. Almost as if that was your only opportunity for happiness. It hurt a lot to be diminished that way. You knew you were better than that, someone just had to see it.

This was when Yoongi stepped into your life.

He became your... mentor.

Your first interaction had been at a local cafe, whose business was barely hanging on by a thread. A young gentlemen harpy had been choking and you performed CPR just like you had seen in your books. Both hands compressing on the chest, movement after movement. It was natural. It was thrilling…. and Yoongi watched from a distance.

It was exhilarating to watch from his perspective; as a young human girl was able to jump in so fast to save a Harpy's life. He thought that the act of courage was valuable, especially amidst rough harpy-human relations. Your skills were deemed useful. So, that afternoon he offered you a new opportunity, not commonly offered to the lower species. The chance to be a nurse and learn the trade under a esteemed physician by the name of "Dr. Min". Since humans were were deemed the less intelligent species, you jumped on the opportunities you could get, and gleefully agreed. From there you gained certification, and officially became Yoongi's personal nurse.

It was the opportunity you had been looking for, and allowed you to escape the pressure society had put upon you to be a breeder for future harpy children.

Yoongi and you matched so well that it was like Yin and Yang. Whereas you were a bubbly excitable personality, he tended to more calm and cool. Your personalities allowed for easy meshing, and traveling to treat harpy and human mothers became common place. There was no one more loyal than the physician who trained you and led you to a higher purpose. However, that purpose had its drawbacks. There were many days, where the strain of the mothers emotions took a toll on you, and it took a lot in you to continue. The medicine you performed was not always at the consent of the mother, but at the consent of their harpy mate, as the law specified. The job allowed you to practice medicine, but you had to watch as human ladies were put into the role of motherhood against their will. You never be embarrassed comfortable with that aspect. As human girls were turned into adult mothers against their will, you had to stand to the side and be the smiling nurse to ease their worries. Worries that we’re valid, and led you to where you were now… as a part of the underground rebellion.

The laws were extremely discriminatory, and the main basis for the humans rebellion in the first place. For your rebellion. It was common knowledge that harpies could not breed with one another. They were too instinctual and possessive to be able to submit to another harpy. So, Instead they took humans to become their mates (often against their will). Contraceptives became illegal and any human was up for grabs, whether male or female. As long as the human was of rank three, they were legally allowed to be flown away to a nest on the outskirts of the city. These nests reigned high in the clouds with no accessible human entrance. Only windows large enough for the wings of harpies. It was a world where humans were meant to be protected and bred, and you were the unfortunate human that had to watch others get hurt from a distance.

By taking you on as his assistant, Yoongi spared you from that life and you became a class two human. There was always a looming threat though, as everyday that you saw human females suffering in labor, you would then go out of your way to distribute contraceptives and allow women the lives they deserve.

There was only one problem.

One problem that always was blaring at you in the face.

One problem that always told you to turn tale and run.

It occurs to you even now, with how the young harpy looks at you in that mesmerizing way. With a young barely minute old infant in his arms, smiling up to that mother. As he grins at you and congratulates the harpy father with a slap on the back.

You realize something you've known for a while.

That Yoongi can never know what you have been doing, or the man that saved you could also be the man that dooms you.

"Wonderful job (Y/N), I couldn't have done it without you." Yoongi grinned at you as he spoke, giving you a large hug. His grip was strong, and there was an odd smell of pine trees that radiated from his feathers. His wings furrowed out with glee every time he spoke, and the moonlight hit them in just the right way to give them a shimmer at the ends. They really were beautiful.

"Don't put yourself down too much sir, it was a combined effort!" He rolled his eyes at your comment.

"Don't be modest (Y/N)! I could never ask for a better partner!" He scratched his chin in thought. His wings seemed to twitch as he looked back over at you. "Hey! How about this! I have a bottle of good wine back at my place.” He paused before straightening his white coat. “Why don't we have a few drinks and watch a movie? You deserve it after all your hard work."

His smile was always so convincing. And you couldn't remember the last time you had sat down and watched a movie. Most human homes didn't have television, and while yours did, you didn't have the time with your busy schedule. But there was one problem...

"I'm already way passed the curfew Yoongi! You won't get in trouble, but I don't have a probable reason to be out now that I've finished the labor. And if I come back tipsy? They'll surely yank my class status!"

Yoongi didn't seem to be bothered by that fact suprisingly. Or unsuprisingly? It was very difficult to read that man. He always had that look upon him that he honestly couldn’t give a shit. But he seemed to be so deep thought upon what you said and as it came to him, his head snapped to you and he yelled out.

"I've got it! You can just stay at my place!” He snapped his fingers. “That way, you won't get in trouble for curfew, but we can still have a relaxing night after all work we've done." He seemed very proud of his solution, but there was one thing that made you uncomfortable.

"In an unmated Harpy's home? Unless there's some secret lover I don't know about, I don't know if your neighbors would necessarily get the right impression about me." Yoongi noticed you seemed to shrink in on yourself at the comment. Almost as if you didn't like the impression it might give. It wasn’t meant to come off offensive, but something you said seemed to have ruffled the young birds feathers.

"Nobody would care and besides-“ he clicked his tongue. “I can just explain what's going on. Plus, even though I'm not mated, that doesn't mean I'm not respectful and everyone around me knows that."

Does Yoongi know that?

With the amount of subtle innuendos this man throws at you, you really should stop letting him convince you to do things, but alas he is a very charming harpy and a dear friend, so you let him do what he must.

"Fine I guess we can go...Though I'm choosing the movie!"you stuck your tongue out jokingly. Yoongi pouted and swung his feathers to hit your arm, before laughing and muttering a harpy joke you couldn’t quite get. Guess someone was salty they didn't call dibs first!

Yoongi ran over to grab your hand and dragged you to his car in a matter of seconds. As you settled into the plush leather seats, you took notice of your environment. Black leather, sleek interior, and a certain someone’s hand that hadn’t seemed to let go quite yet. Your face was starting to get hot, at the amusement of the birdbrain. As Yoongi buckled himself in, you took on the task of slowly inching out of his grasp. His eyebrows shrunk down a little and a frown situated upon his face, but he quickly schooled his expressions and focused back on the road. He shouldn't overthink things.

The drive was nice and calming. With Yoongi bursting into rap every few minutes, as the pickiness of his driving tunes became apparent. Yoongi was a very odd harpy, that was stoic and cold in one moment, kind in the next, and downright goofy in another. It was clear he wasn't just any harpy and he made that distinction extremely apparent in your friendship. Though it did give you whiplash when you first started interacting.

His fingers tapped against the wheel to the beat and his wings fluttered slightly behind him. Little swishes of air hit you from each mini flap he would give out. After a while, you started singing too, though you always left the rapping to Yoongi. He really did sound like a bird, with a pair of vocals to match. Twittering and Tweeting.

As you arrived at Yoongi's place, it seemed fairly quant; a small two bedroom, one bath, apartment in a better neighborhood. It could be assumed that Yoongi made enough money to afford a larger place, but he just didn't seem the type to live in a large place by himself. It was minimalistic and said enough about his personality. As you spread out on the white couch and Yoongi went to prepare the guest bedroom, you scrolled through the television options.

"You got anything you are interested in?" There was a faint hum from the other room.

"I have a few movies already on my watchlist, but you are free to choose anything else if you'd like." Your eyes seemed to widen a bit as you scrolled through his supposed “favorites”. With the amount of Harpy-Human Romance movies (geez I guess he has a favorite genre) on Yoongi's watchlist, you decided to look for something different. It wouldn't set the right impression to watch a romance movie with your boss. You decided on a simple comedy.

It did make you slightly curious as to whether Yoongi had a secret mate though. He didn’t seem the type to be watching a lot of romance movies, and yet, the impression was made quite clearly. He had been pretty forthcoming in the past that he was waiting for the right "songbird" as he liked to call them. Harpy's did mate young though and Yoongi was getting in his mid-twenties. It would make sense that he was lonely. You guessed you would just have to check up on your friend to make sure he was alright. You just prayed you wouldn't have to medically treat whoever his mate would be.

As he came to sit down next to you, with a bowl of guacamole and chips, he profusely apologized for continously bumping into you. He had a much larger wingspan than other harpies and constantly brushed his wingtips against your thighs and feet. It was a testament to his strength and virility in society, but still got in the way most of the time. Eventually settling down, he quickly explained that the guest bedroom was prepared and you could go to bed anytime you wished. You appreciated the sentiment and thanked the young bird.

The movie wasn't bad, however, a bit too corny for Yoongi's taste. That was apparent by the little side eye he kept giving you at the horrible dad jokes. You seemed to be enjoying it a lot though and so he couldn't complain much. It was all in good fun, even if he did wanna smother you every time you made a “chicken crossing the road” joke. However, there was clearly something that was bothering you. Yoongi's black shadowy wings seemed to have spread out more and more, and the tips of feathers brushed lightly against your shoulder. You doubted it was intentional, as your boss always made it clear that your comfort was a priority, but you still found yourself scooching farther into the side of the couch.

Harpies never seemed to understand personal space. The room also seemed to be heating up the more that Yoongi extended his width. He always seemed to rub up against the wrong spots as well, leaving a slight blush to be found on your cheeks.

However, by the time the credits were rolling, you found yourself starting to doze.

"Hey (Y/N)?" You hummed.

Eyes just felt so heavy and the hand holding your head kept slipping.

"A-are you with anyone right now?" There was a slight stutter to his speech and the question confused you for a second. Your brows furrowed. What did he mean by that? It did awaken you though and you turned your body to the side Yoongi rested on.

"What do you mean?" He coughed and grabbed his glass of water, as a faint rosey sheen came to his cheeks. The position you had placed yourself in, managed to push your cleavage against the couch just slightly. Though it was clear you hadn’t noticed anything.

Odd.

"Nothing! I just know many ladies at your age are dating and stuff and...." There was a pause as he seemed to be thinking over his words. "I want to make sure that my best nurse is still gonna be by my side assisting with patients. That's all….” There was a forlorn look on his face as he finished. He was deep in thought about something. What it was, you had no idea. But the way his feathers shrunk a bit and seemed to curl around him, gave the impression that it was important to him.

"Nothing could keep me away from this work for too long!" You giggled. "No one's really caught my eye and I mostly just want to help as I can right now. That's all l really care about right now." You wrapped your arms around your legs and smiled into your thighs. The expression of happiness nestled slightly into your cheeks. A slight optimism that no one could quite pull off the same.

A silence settled over the two of you. As Yoongi was deep in thought and you seemed to be dozing off. The tiredness was becoming too much and the time on the wall was not helping anything. Slowly ascending from your nook on the couch, you yawned and stretched your arms.

"I *yawn* should be getting to bed, wake me if-"

"(Y/N), wait I-" Yoongi cut you off halfway through. His left wing reached out to your shoulder and brushed it as you were raising your arms. His hand was grasping the air as if there was more he wanted to say... But he stopped halfway. A look of solemn fell over his face before being replaced with that same old smile.

"Nevermind." He shook his head. "Get some sleep, little dove."

You nodded, not quite processing. The nickname hadn’t quite clicked in your brain yet. Walking over to the guest bedroom, the blankets quickly enveloped your fragile body. Never in your life had you gotten as good of sleep as your did enveloped in the fancy sheets. But just like every night before this one, one thought ran through your head.

I hope this never changes.

Three loud knocks awakened you.

THUMP, THUMP, THUMP

It took you a few seconds to realize that it was not your apartment you had woken up in. The memory's from the previous night slowly flooded in, as you changed into some extra clothes. Sweatpants and a shirt was all that was needed on a Saturday. You could distinctly hear chattering through the walls. One of the voices was distinctly Yoongi. He had a certain husky undertone to the way he spoke, and was able to convey himself in very few words. The other voice was not this way, it was more boisterous and joyful, albeit with a darker tone. More playful, yet foreboding.

As you peaked your head around the hallway, you finally noticed the second man. Or harpy as you should say. The bird-man was slightly taller than Yoongi, albeit no less appealingly. Dark nightshade hair overran one side of his face, and he had a certain polish to him not seen among the common folk. Dressed in a suit from head to toe, the wings that spread from his back were not petite in the slightest, and unlike Yoongi's midnight black wings you were used to, this man's had a slight navy blue sheen to them, that sparkled in the morning light. He was an enigma in the flesh.

The stranger's dark brown eyes flashed over to you, the moment you entered the room. Something about the way he looked you up and down, didn't settle with you right. A smug little smirk found it's way to his lips.

"Why Yoongi ~” His voice gave off a little purr, and his Adam’s apple bobbed at the good look he was getting of you. “I didn't know you had gotten yourself a little human." There was a joking gasp from the man. "Though, I do wonder why they are in your apartment of all places and not elsewhere." A side eye was given. There was something you were missing here, that was clear. Yoongi merely rolled his eyes, before admonishing the man.

"Knock it off Tae" He rubbed the space between his eyebrows in exacerbation. The crow man knew how to rub a sore spot deep. "Her name is (Y/N), I've talked about her before. She's the nurse that assists me at work."

Realization flashed upon the man's face. Eyebrows raising in recognition. Instead of sizing you up anymore, he looked at you with a newfound appreciation. Sweeping his large feathered appendages back, and taking himself to a bow, he quickly took hold of your right hand and placed a gentle kiss upon the back. Red immediately ran across your complexion.

"It's a pleasure to finally put a name to the face, little birdie~. I'm Taehyung, chief of the government Harpy-Human Relations division." The man had the nerve to wink at you. And to put the Cherry on top, He was a fucking bird politician… “Though I must say, I'm disappointed we weren't introduced earlier, what with Yoongi and I being very close." There was another eyeroll from your boss.

"I guess that is the way of the world-" The man shrugged. Then his focus went back to Yoongi. Something seemed to change in his voice.

"You'll be letting me know what you find, yes?" Yoongi seemed to snap out of his annoyance and a serious look fell upon his face. By the way the man was dressed and Yoongi's countenance, this wasn't merely a friends getaway, but for business instead.

"Yes. I'll see what I can do."

Taehyung flapped his wings slightly before rushing out the door. He seemed to be in a hurry, and Yoongi couldn't be happier about it. Anything Taehyung was interested in was not a good sign.

This was your cue to leave as well and as you went to grab your stuff from the other room, something caught the corner of your eye.

Yoongi was placing a packet of pills in his work satchel.

"So I was telling her, if you want to find someone better there are plenty of fish in the sea-"

It was always hard to stay awake and interested when Jennie prattled on about an ex-girlfriend of hers. You honestly could not care less, but you had agreed to go to dinner with her if it made her happy. She had been stressed recently over her work, since more and more human workers were getting laid off and the factories were obscenely harsh on the body. One of these days she would be next. The small joint you two were located in was nothing special, with just basic burgers, shiny red booths and take-out counters. The dingy lights above gave barely visible light, but what was most important was that it was cheap and affordable. It was also rare to see any feathered individuals in this area. The only time you had ever seen any of the bird-brains nearby had been when Yoongi picked you up a few weeks ago in his car.

"Hey, are you even listening?!"

Groaning, you laid your head on your arms in exacerbation. You gave her a mischeivious grin. "Jennie, I don't wanna hear about your exes-" Exchanging a side look you continued "I wanna hear about the little date you went on last weekend."

Cheery giggles fell from Jennie's lips as she couldn't help but show her enthusiasm. "Oh this lady was heavenly. She had this way to just pull you in a conversation. And they even bought me flowers! In this economy?! She even was at the meeting the other night-"

And Jennie prattled on. She was always the more talkative of the two of you. One of the women from your underground meetings had taken an interest in Jennie, and since she hadn't had a healthy relationship in a while, you let her gossip about it as much as she liked. It also made it easier on yourself, because it allowed you to not always have to talk about yourself. She chattered more, as you moved the green beans on your place to create little pictures. Anything to cure your boredom.

As the two of you sat chatting, and your milkshake decreased in volume, you realized that it was starting to get dark out. The stars in the night sky sparkled above, and the lights on the streets were the only thing illuminating the outside. The shop was starting to close up for the night, as the waiters grabbed old dishes and flipped the neon 'open' sign to 'closed'. You scrapped at the old paint on the table with you nail as Jennie was asking the waiter for the bill. Your head had been laying on the table, only to slowly raise as something outside caught your attention.

There was a harpy man with an umbrella across the street.

Harpy weren't supposed to be in these areas. Not that the streets were segregated, but usually they made better money than to be in the poorer parts and the crime in the human neighborhoods ran rampant in comparison. No harpies felt the need to be here. It was the only bit of sanctuary that humans felt in these areas. This specific harpy seemed to be eyeing the little shop you were in.

The earrings he wore clinked against one another as he tilted his head upon eye contact with you. You couldn't recognize the harpy in the dark, but the way he was looking at your booth made you very uncomfortable.

"Hey Jennie? There's a harpy staring at us, try not to be too obvio-“ and of course Jennie fastly whipped her head behind her. Not so subtle at all. Recognition flashed upon her face and all colored seemed to drain from her.

"T-That's my boss." Your eyebrows raised in surprise.

"The factory manager?"

Jennie nodded. She seemed just as confused as you were. But, by the way her sleeved arm seemed to rub against her side and she seemed to be fiddling with the paper straw. This was not the first time she had seen the winged fellow outside of work. Her shoes scraped against the ground as she thought over her next words.

"I-I don't know what that's about but-" She bit her lip. "We should probably be getting home. I-It i-is late."

That didn't seem to asuade your opinion that whatever was happening was extremely shifty. You grabbed her elbow as she went to stand up.

"Jennie, if you don't feel comfortable going, we can always ask the staff to stay longer?" You were imploring her to stay. Something didn't feel right. But she merely shook her head.

"No, it's ok! I-I don't wanna bother anyone right now." Her bangs covered her eyes for a split second, as you went to grab her right hand.

Walking out hand in hand, you both tried to ignore the bird across the street. But as the two of you walked ten feet, he walked ten feet in the same direction. Footsteps could be heard behind you, as the man crossed the street.

He was now on the same side of the road.

It was eerily quiet out. Even the faint hum of electricity was barely noticeable on these backwater streets. No stray animals were out, which seemed unusual. Jennie held closer to your side the farther you walked. Your friends eyes pinched tightly shut as she seemed to be whispering affirmations to herself.

"I am beautiful. I am strong. I am - "

"Angel?" The male harpy called out from behind us.

Jennie held tighter.

"Please don't run from me. I told you this was gonna happen-." You turned around to look this man in the face. He seemed to have a small smile and his cerulean eyes had a small content crinkle along the corner lashes. "It really isn't all that scary."

Jennie let go of your arm. Though her fingers shook, and her legs seemed to barely be holding her.

"I-I" She stuttered and took a moment to ground herself. "I don't want this. P-Please leave me alone."

His smile didn't waver. Instead he took careful inches towards the two of you. His wings dragged against the ground, though made no noise in the dark city air. You went to grab Jennie's hand, but she seemed scared to reach for you. Quickly rushing to bring her hands around her body.

"I'm not going anywhere Angel." In that same moment it occurred to you that something was deeply wrong.

He ran for Jennie... and in the moment, you did the same.

You didn't care if she was scared of you getting hurt, you were not going to allow your friend to be next.

Your reached out your hand. But you were too late.

You. Were. Too. Late.

In an instant the harpy wrapped his large wings around her, arms grappling for leverage on her body, and a gust of wind swept you into the nearby alley. You went flying backwards, as the strength of a harpy's wings were no match for a human. Your claws grappled at the ground as you went skittering. Dirt and debris got caked underneath, and scrapes littered your clothes. But you didn’t care. The pain hurt more on the inside than the outside. Brush light feathers tickled Jennie's face, and all you saw of her were tears, before in an inhuman speed, wings pummeled the ground and the two went soaring. Wind whipped around the two, and all you saw was a speck disappearing into the night air.

The noise of the city did very little to quiet your wails, and there were no nearby goers to comfort you in your despair. The ground still had excess feathers from the harpy's quick takeoff and the pattern would have been mesmerizing, a swirl of bird beauty, had your friend not just been kidnapped.

She had been snatched.

You let out another blood-curdling scream as two arms wrapped around your back. As if the night could not get worse. Hands wrapped around your stomach and breasts to get a strong grip upon your small countenance. Fighting and clawing did not matter, as whoever was grabbing on, would not let you go and seemed to hold the strength of ten men.

"Hey! Careful! It's just me!!" The man screamed out as you went in to bite their jugular, but hesitated.

It was that man from earlier.

Taehyung.

"I saw what occurred and wanted to make sure you were all right. It's always-“ There was a pause. "messy when humans get involved with a harpy's snatch." Letting go of your stomach, he slowly lifted himself to stand. His hands slicked through his hair, and he held a concerned look. You still laid on the dirty ground, scratches creating solid lines upon your legs. There wasn't any energy left in you to stand. This seemed to be apparent to the young gentlebird, as he went to grab your miniscule body in his arms. One arm around your knees and another around your back. Bridal-style. You would almost laugh, if you had it in you in this moment.

With you tightly secured in his embrace, Taehyung started walking out of the alley. The warmth from him was a calming sensation, albeit not wanted from you in that moment. However, he seemed to be walking with a mission in his mind.

"W-where are we going?" You wanted to make sure the harpy holding you didn't have the same idea as the one before. He looked down at you with a frown.

"My office. It's a few blocks over. I want to make sure you are alright before I let you go home." He looked down at you and squeezed your body slightly as he held you closer. The tight hold on your body did nothing to help ease your sensation of panic, but it soothed the harpy, as holding you close meant you were safe. "It's dangerous for you to be out right now."

You didn't feel the need to fight him.

Note:

Hope you all like part 1!!! I will be coming out with part 2 soon. This has not been edited. Any questions or comments is greatly appreciated.

[bingbongsupremacy]

Snow Storm

Pairing: Ellie Williams x Reader

Warnings: I didn't know how to end so yeah.

Summary: You and Ellie have hated each other for years. Will one snowy night change that?

* Not Proof Read * TLOU Masterlist

*****

" Are you kidding me, Dina? " I huff in annoyance. " We fucking hate each other. You couldn't have asked literally anyone else? "

Dina rolls her eyes. " It's not my fault your fucking brother got me sick. And I tried. Big surprise, no one wants to patrol on Christmas. "

I let out a sigh. " Fine, whatever. Just...get better. I'll see you later. " Muddy snow crunches under my boots as I make my way through the streets of Jackson. Not many people are out today, most deciding to stay home with their families. As I near the stables, I see her.

" Well well, look who decided to be on time today. " Ellie smirks while adjusting her pack onto Shimmer.

" Oh fuck you. It was one time and I was like five minutes late. " I shove my pack onto my horse, Posey, and jump up.

" Somebody's still a bitch. " Ellie mutters.

" You're one to talk. You literally always start it. " I direct Posey towards the gates.

Ellie scoffs. " Sure. "

" Let's just not talk, alright? Neither of us wants to be here. The faster we get this shit done, the faster we can both go home. "

" Deal. "

*****

" For the last time, Y/N, we can't make it back to Jackson in this weather. We have to wait it out! " Ellie shouts over the raging snow storm. " You know what, if you want to go, go! I'm not fucking dying because you're too impatient to wait this out. " Ellie turns her horse towards the nearest building.

I guess she's right. I mean, the storm doesn't look like it's going to die down anytime soon and I have no fucking idea where I am. We have to be at least an hour or two away from Jackson. There's no way I'd make it back. I can barely see my hands.

With an annoyed groan, I turn my horse towards the direction Ellie went. I jump down and ignore Ellie's smirk.

" I see someone came to their senses. "

I don't bother responding, instead yanking down the garage door. I turn on my flash light and slowly walk into the dark house. " You get left. " I whisper to Ellie, who nods.

Once we finish searching the house, we end up finding ourselves both in the living room.

" I'll see if I can get a fire started. " Ellie begins throwing random things into the fireplace and attempting to light a fire. A small orange flame forms, quickly engulfing everything in the chimney. A warm light is cast through the room, making it feel less intimidating.

A sharp pain startles me. I let out a gasp and reach towards my side. A wet, sticky liquid coats my cold hand. " Shit. "

Ellie's head snaps towards me. " You-Fuck what the hell happened? " She stands up from her crouching position and walks towards me.

" It's not that bad. I must've got it when we were running from the infected. I didn't even notice. " I hiss slightly while gently lifting up the corner of my now blood covered shirt. " Maybe a little more than a scratch. " My eyes widen at the jagged cut. I start to feel a little bit woozy at the sight of the crimson liquid. Shit, I'm fine with blood as long as it isn't mine. I wobble slightly from the image.

Ellie rushes towards me, grabbing onto my waist. " Fuck, be careful. " She slowly leads me towards an old couch near the fire.

The feel of her rough hands sends butterflies tumbling through my stomach. I'd be lying if I said I didn't find her attractive.

The feeling of disappointment settles on me as soon as she lets go.

Ellie wouldn't like me back. We fucking hate each other.

Right?

Then why is she helping me?

Ellie digs through her pack for a small box. She pulls out a small bottle of alcohol, a needle, and some thread. " Not gonna lie, this is going to hurt like hell. "

I nod. " Just hurry. "

I clench my teeth as her cold hands touch my bare skin. She pours a little bit of the alcohol on my cut. " Mother fucker. " I hiss while shoving my nails into my fists.

Ellie quickly begins sewing up the cut. Her face is full of concentration.

When Ellie finishes, I let out a sigh and drop my head against the couch.

" I'd definitely get that checked out when we get back, but it'll do for now. "

I send her a tired smile. " Thanks. "

She nods and packs away the kit.

We sit in a heavy silence for what seems like hours until Ellie finally breaks it.

" Why do we do this? "

I turn my head over to her. " Because people will die if we don't patrol? " I ask in confusion.

Ellie shakes her head. Strands of her hair falls into her face, casting a slight shadow on her rosy cheeks. " No, not that. This. " She gestures at us. " Why are we such assholes to each other? "

I take a moment to think. Honestly...I'm not sure. " It's because...I think...I don't know. " I shrug. " I just remember us not liking each other since the day you showed up in Jackson. That was so long ago...I can't even remember. "

Ellie lets out a slight chuckle. " I don't remember either. God we're fucking idiots. "

I roll my eyes with a grin. " Yeah we are. "

" Why don't we...start over? " Ellie suggests. " Minus the enemy parts. "

I nod. " Let's do that. "

Ellie holds out her hand with a grin. " I'm Ellie. Nice to meet you. "

My hand encloses hers. " I'm Y/N. Nice to meet you too. "

Hopefully this time will be better.

[sqeyungs]

hunter, ft. ranpo edogawa cw. horror themes, cursing, mentions of blood & wounds a/n. been getting back into idv recently and i have ranpo's skin and ideas came to mind☝️

the weather was cold, yet somehow humid at the same time. maybe it was just the fact that you had been working your ass off trying to get those damn generators to run. with more than a couple zaps from misplaced wiring keeping you on your toes- not even to mention the one out for you two. the hunter.

the one that managed to rip both atsushi and dazai away from your grasps. it had been hours. hours of evading the entity that ranpo had felt so stumped on- and that wasn't exactly the most helpful place for the detective to be in this scenario.

with sweat dripping down your temple, you had only hoped the male was somewhere safe and far away from that monster right now. you weren't sure when you'd been separated from him, yet it happened, and it couldn't have been less than an hour at this point. luckily this would only be the second to last generator to finish. neither of you could help the fact that at sometimes hiding seemed better than running away from your foe. how you had even got yourself stuck in this situation; you weren't sure.

the only thing keeping your exhausted, not so clean body moving was finding ranpo and getting the hell out of this shit show. the ding went off when you finally finished up the current generator and as soon as it did you found yourself running far. you weren't in the best state, with more than just a couple cuts and bruises, but you couldn't stop now. not when you were so close.

it was when you approached a new, hardly touched generator that you heard twigs snap in the distance which made you flinch worse than you would rather admit. you cowered, crouching in a corner created by the space between the generator and the brick wall behind it, covering your mouth and closing your eyes tight as you could. you bit on your lip so hard you think you may be tasting blood now. you wouldn't be surprised. the weather along with how filthy you felt would be the explanation for your already chapped lips.

you couldn't die here... no. not when you don't know where your black-haired ally was or if he was safe. though, you couldn't manage to open your eyes or even move. you swore you almost yelled out a lung when you felt a hand cusp around your wrist, but that second hand was quick to keep your hands in a position where you couldn't open your mouth.

"don't make a sound," the voice whispered. the voice was one of familiarity, one that even at these times was able to calm your still growing nerves. your eyes opened with slight hesitation to see the one you've been so worried about. his eyes scanned over your features, and you swore you saw something welling up in his brown eyes which usually were closed or at least a little more enthusiastic than at the moment. "i'll fix everything. i always do, right?" he spoke, a fake chuckle following after his rhetorical question.

he looked around the surroundings before helping you off the muddy ground to gesture you to follow him as quietly as possible. as you walked more you soon heard the clanking of a nearby generator, one that was already halfway done! you would let out a sigh of relief if your teeth hadn't been so harshly clamped together. though you now felt more relieved, it soon dissipated due to the overwhelming pain all over your body. maybe it had been your adrenaline keeping you going, not your will.

without a sound from either of you, you two began to work on the last generator. you'd become much more paranoid yet much more careful in the process. not nearly as many misplaced cords or mess ups as before. not when you had ranpo at your side once more. where atsushi and dazai had went... you had only hoped they managed to find their way out. though you hadn't explicitly seen their demises you could only assume so from the sounds of terror you heard from the man-tiger earlier.

yet, you had a newfound hope. maybe it was just your reunion with the man but you wouldn't question it. you noticed your heartbeat suddenly increasing and it caused you to pause in your tracks. it was near.

"come on, we're almost done then we'll be safe, y/n," the boy tried to ease your nerves and coerce you back into working on the sparking generator. he knew why you paused in your tracks, in fact, he'd realized it was getting closer moments before you. he didn't let it stop him. you both needed to finish so you could get out and he couldn't let anything get in the way of safety.

you spotted it, out in the distance. your eyes began to well up in fear. no, no, no, no.. it couldn't happen again. you had already been locked up in that damn chair once which you were lucky enough to have atsushi at your service then but you couldn't go back. it could not happen again.

your heartbeat steadily increased as well as your rapid breathing and ranpo knew he wouldn't be able to snap you out of your trance while he was so focused on the generator. he took a deep breath, realizing just how close you two were. only ten more percent left to go and you were home free. he couldn't just ignore your rising panic though. "y/n."

you didn't even flinch at his call, not a single reaction. you were too focused on watching the hunter's every move since it would be after you at any second now. what then? what would you do? what if it-

"y/n," the detective repeated, now separated from the generator and pulling you to crouch down in front of him, hiding behind some barrel. "we're so close. i told you i would fix it, but you can't give up now. not when we're so close," he said. typically, he wasn't the type to give out free pep talks but for the first time he felt truly threatened in a life-or-death scenario and he wouldn't let said scenario take you away from him.

"i won't let it get to you again, but you have to help me."

[kudzuoath]

Wretched Things

Nothing lives in the shadow cursed lands. Even the trees are undead. This is a problem when you need to drink blood to survive.  Thankfully, Caspian is a giving sort.

–

Try as he might, Astarion’s focus kept sliding away from his book. The wretched burning in his throat, the sandpaper feel of his tongue, the emptiness of his stomach. All served to sever what little attention he had. 

He grit his teeth and stared holes into the page of diagrams. One of several books regarding undead that they’d recovered since finding Moonrise. Caspian seemed to be collecting the things for him. 

The gesture flayed him. 

“Horrid, pink thing,” he grumbled under his breath. “Wretchedly pastel tiefling.”

Maybe he’d be flattered if she didn’t also help just about everyone they came across. Oh she never made any promises – but nevertheless they always ended up in a bloody hag’s lair, or fetching a bard from a cage. 

Actually… 

Astarion’s gaze drifted over to Volo, who was scribbling away, not a care in the world. Surely no one would mind if he indulged in a little snack...

If nothing else with Volo as a victim, he could talk the rest of the party around when they found his corpse. 

Though it wouldn’t be that hard to hide the body. All he had to do was toss it into the lake. With the shadow curse no one would even question it. They all knew the little idiot had the self preservation of a gnat. 

His mouth was watering over Volo. Terrible. 

“Astarion?”

His gaze slid over to the wretchedly pastel tiefling herself. She’d apparently found somewhere to bathe – probably at the inn – because her hair was pale lavender again, rather than the sort of muddy brownish black it had turned from all the blood. 

Not, mind you, living blood. Of course not. The black, congealed jelly-like substance of the dead held by the shadow curse. 

“Well don’t you look a treat this evening,” he said. “Unfortunately I’m rather busy at the moment –”

She ignored his attempt to brush her off. 

“There aren’t any animals here.”

“Really?” he said, looking around in feigned shock. “I hardly noticed. Perhaps next you might tell me what color the sky is?”

Again she ignored his goading. Though those black and indigo eyes narrowed. A laser focus. “And the only people we’ve fought in days are dead already.”

“Your skills of observation are truly something to behold,” he said, fighting not to bristle. What, was she going to start making threats? He was still going to eat Volo. 

“When was the last time you fed?”

“Why?” he asked, lowering his voice into a pur that usually made her blush. “Thinking of inviting me to dine with you?” 

Caspian put her hands on her hips and tilted her head. He was too aware of the bared expanse of her throat. The way her pulse jumped. 

“Yes.”

For a split second he was confused. Why? What did she get out of it? Then he realized he didn’t care. He would take what she gave him. And then take still more. 

“You have such a generous soul,” he said, slipping closer so he could coil a lock of her hair around one of his fingers. This time she blushed. Far more appealing than Volo, really. He still remembered the hot, honeyed taste of her blood sliding down his throat all those nights ago. Did all tieflings burn like that? “I’ll see you tonight, my sweet.”

Even redder, Caspian shook her head. 

“It’s been at least a week, hasn’t it? Just – drink, Astarion.”

“How kind of you to notice…”

He was hardly going to turn her down. The thirst strangled him. He’d been much, much worse off over the centuries. But after so many weeks of being truly sated, starvation sawed at him like a stranger rather than the old friend it was. 

“--  for not thinking of it sooner,” she said. Had she still been talking?

Astarion slid his hand into her hair and tilted her head. Caspian allowed it, still practically glowing from the amount of blood in her face.

Cute. You would think she’d fluster less after the times they’d slept together. 

“Sit, dear,” he said. “I would hate for you to fall.”

Caspian did so. And the moment she was settled he leaned in close, and bit her. 

Her gasp was drowned out by the sudden rush of relief that poured into him. Blood touched his tongue, slid down his throat, and it was like waking. Hot, spiced, honeyed – and none of those things. Her blood – like the last time – burned all the way down. But pleasantly. Like expensive alcohol. 

Astarion tightened his grip in her hair, and drank deeply. Drowning that starving feeling. Luxuriating in the sensation of satiation. The creeping numbness in his fingers faded. The weakened woozy feeling in the center of his chest shriveled. 

“Astarion…”

More. He needed more. 

“If you don’t… stop… you’re going to have… a very awkward conversation… with Shadowheart.”

Caspian’s hand, on the back of his head. Fingers twining through his hair. 

Her heart beat stuttered. 

With a gasp of his own he forced himself to let go, to draw back. Though not too far this time because as soon as he stopped drinking, Caspian half collapsed against him. She was breathing hard, as if she’d been running for hours.

There was an ashen quality to her skin, her lips were pale and her eyes heavy lidded. 

“Shit,” he swore. 

“Shouldn’t have… left it so long,” she mumbled, head nodding forward. A long sigh. Then, she started to hum. 

From anyone else he would assume this was related to the blood loss. But Caspian drew magic from music. Sometimes from rhymes. Too still, he held her up as she hummed and coaxed the weave around them. He felt the spell gathering around her – and then felt it take. 

She sat up, looking marginally better. There was some color in her lips, at least. 

“Well,” he said. Awkwardness clawed at him. Though not as hard as it might have. For the first time in days he felt himself. “No need to talk to our resident Sharran.”

Caspian laughed. “I think she’d be more annoyed at me than you. Feel better?”

He did. 

“I’m positively brimming with energy, darling.”

“And you’re in a much better mood,” she pointed out. There was a flash of fang in her smile. Maybe he had been rather… prickly of late. But no one was happy here anyway, so it shouldn’t have been all that noticeable. 

He sniffed. “I miss the sun. This whole cursed place smells like a tomb. And –”

“You were hungry,” she said. Her smile faded, replaced by a knit brow as she looked up at him. He realized he was still supporting most of her weight and – when had he put his arm around her? The warmth and presence of her body was… nice. 

“Did you drink enough?” 

“I nearly drain you and you ask if i’ve drank enough, Cas?” An eyebrow lifted. “I did hope you had better self preservation instincts. Not too much better, of course…”

“I doubt the others are going to invite you to dinner,” she deadpanned. “Our options out here are bloody limited. And I don’t know how much longer it's going to take to get to Ketheric. You need to eat and…” she sighed. “And I don’t think I can give like this every night. I’ll get someone killed out there if I’m too weak to swing a sword or too slow to react with a spell.”

A terrible sticky warmth was building in his chest. It was foreign and insidiously… pleasant.

She was concerned. About him.

His eyes drifted to where one of her hands was gripping the front of his shirt. Caspian would have been so easy to lure to Cazador. The sympathetic always were. And she was nothing if not that. He could have stumbled into her on the streets, playing at a more mortal starvation. 

Help me, he imagined saying. And she would. All the way to Cazador’s teeth. 

Idiot. 

“Should we dine again tomorrow, I won't need as much.” All she had to give, and more. It was his for the taking.

Caspian’s head dropped against his chest and she let out a longer sigh. Relief? Perhaps? 

“Okay. Okay. This is doable.” 

He waited for her hands to drift lower, or her lips to touch his skin. He was resigned to it. It was the most natural sort of payment in the world. And he knew she enjoyed his touch.

But instead Caspian sat up and yawned. “Right. I need to sleep. And probably eat something. In the reverse order.”

“What, no desert?” he whined.

“Ha! If by desert you mean sex, I’d fall asleep before you got your shirt off. I’m afraid I can’t feed both hungers tonight.”

“Pity,” he said, stretching. The way her eyes tracked his movements softened the blow of rejection. “I’m certainly feeling invigorated.”

“Alas,” she deadpanned. There was a spark in her eye and a slight curl to her lips. “You'll just have to invite you hands into bed tonight instead.”

Caspian stood, sketched a theatrical little curtsy, and sauntered off toward the campfire. Almost immediately she fell on the bowl of stew Gale handed her like a ravening wolf. The wizard laughed at her and said something that earned him a smack with her tail. Shadowheart made a dry comment about the puncture wounds on her neck. Caspian fired back, but made no move to hide them. 

And Astation watched her with a faint smile. 

“Wretched thing.”

[blackberryshortcake]

The Witches Wrath

(Pt.3)

Sorry this part took so long T-T hope y’all like it

Pt 1. Pt 2.

Blinking the haze from the eyes I come to realize two things, one I was not in fact in my guest room and two it was very much a new day outside. The memories for last nights fight came flooding back to me and that this was in fact Sebastian room. The room was bare simply in design a closet a desk and a bed. Throwing the covers off I swing my feet over the side of the bed. Nauseated by the sudden motion. This was going to be the hangover of the century. Deciding rather than sulk I should stand up and at least try and look presentable. There was a dress splayed out at the end of the bed. Simple, black and made from what I assume was cotton not like the dress I was forced into the other day. As well as a pair of shoes simple flats that certainly looked outdated in comparison to their modern counterparts. To be completely honest I’m better off wearing this funeral fit than the my current grass stained and muddy clothes but it still doesn’t change the fact that it looks like something you’d bury your great grandmother in. Normal I could just snap my fingers and boom I’ve changed clothes but ah lass I cannot so grandma clothes here I come. I come to stand in from of the mirror just above the small dresser. By the gods I look like a mess. My heads pounding my hair is less than desirable and I look like I got hit by and 18 wheeler or a double wide hauling 2 tons of cattle. Gods I need a cigarette. I searched and searched for the pack of newports I had in sweatshirt pocket but they’re gone all that’s left is that half dead menthol vuse that was in my pants pocket. Guess we’re going new school today. I bet that checky fucker hide them along with my lighter. Deciding rather than sulk I’ll stuff the vape in my bra and head out of the room towards the kitchen. The most reasonable place for a butler to be at one in the afternoon.

After checking the kitchen and pretty much all of the servants wing he was no where to be found neither were any of the other employees of this rat hole. I solemnly determined I was abandoned left behind. Like when your mom goes to Walmart without you and when you ask her why she says you were sleeping but clearly expressed to her before your nap you wanted to go.

Rather than waste the day away I figured might as well be productive and see if maybe just maybe this place had a small library and lo and behold it did. Although not any were near the library of Alexandria I could make do. The boy surprisingly had plenty of books on the occult and witchcraft but who can be surprised when he is literally contracted to a demon. I was torn off the page I was reading in a small corner of the room by the door opening and closing. Two sets of footsteps echoed off the high ceiling just based on the sound I could tell it was Ciel and Sebastian making their entrance. Decided rather than move I stayed in the chair seemingly unbothered by their entrance.

They come to stand in front of me. Ciel in front and Sebastian not too far behind.

I flick my eyes up from the book

“Can I help you?”

Ciel spoke first “I believe you can, the queen has enlisted us to hunt down what is belived to be a witch plaguing London. Their has been a series of ritualistic murders in the Chelsea district of London.”

He cannot be fucking seriously.

“Are you shitting my dick?” He face remains stock simply waiting for you to go on.

You rose from your seat. “So you want me a women who was burned at the stake and accused of witchcraft to help you a privlaged little shit who thinks the world owes him hunt a witch!”

“Per our agreement you must help me.”

“Absolutely not I said I’d protect you not go on a witch hunt! You are probably the most inconsiderate asshole I’ve ever met. I apologize for looking into your past and in restitution I told you mine but there is no way in all the seven rings of hell I will help you hunt a witch.” You could feel it the power radiating off your hands. The green glow the room took on and the shadow cast on the ground by Sebastian coming to stand in between you and Ciel. You could feel the fiery hot rage pumping through your veins and the hand that came to rest around your throat forcing you to look into his eyes. The ones that shown fusica the ones that never change no matter what his face looks like.

“Breath” In all my years of living I really never get that mad I can usually control my “childish anger” as he calls it but there something about this fucking kid that really pushed my buttons. I go to shove his hand off but it only tighted

“Breath before you are no longer able to”

He looked at me the way a parent scolds their child for throwing a temper tantrum in the store.

“ F-fine” his grip loosed and his hand slide from your throat to your shoulder

“My dear, my young lord is simply asking you to help us identify some of the markings the witch left behind. You always were more inclined to such work.”

You stare at the ground no longer forced to hold his gaze. “Is it satanic?”

“I do not believe so, if it is it’s modern not authentic. I however believe it is Hellenic in origin.”

“I guess I can help but never ask me again.”

“Very well, shall we go?” His body turned gesturing to the door.

“Go where?”

“To the scene of the crime of course.”

Now seriously couldn’t he have waited till I don’t now any time but right now. Ciels walks out first clearly perturbd your outburst and Sebastian flows behind a hand on your lower back as he does so.

This was gonna be a loooooonnng day.

………………

One very akward carafe ride later and we arrive just outside a small townhouse. It looked rundown and very old. Sebastian stepped out first then ciel and then me. He offered me a hand down and the words

“My dear?”

“Stop calling me that we sounds like an old married couple.”

“I apologize, my dear” why does he always have to be so condescending.

As you walk up the stairs to the rickety old townhouse you feel as though they might give way beneath you. You did happen to notice a clear lack of police tape or an officer of any kind guarding the door if an apparent crime scene. After entering the smell of blood was 10 times mor pungent inside that out. You follow up the stair to a small bedroom.

By Gods it smelt bad.

Every wall was covered by symbols and although there was no body left behind the large pool of blood inside the salt circle was apparent. An alter stood at the head of the room. Taking care in where you stepped you come to stand in front of it. A seraded knife lay on the alter as well as a bowl made of bronze full of at least a 2 day old blood. Other small nicknacks scattered the top of the alter, offerings most likely but the most prominent figure was a small statue made of wood staring at this figure the realization dawned on you. The room was silent. The earl and his butler simply stood in the doorway as you inspected the room.

You spoke “it’s definitely not satanic but it’s not Hellenic either.”

Ciel was the first to respond “what lead you to conclusion?”

Rather than give away your tell you continue. “We’ll first of all lots of religions use symbols but hellenic Greece wasn’t one of them, and second the Hellenic world wasn’t big on human sacrifice.” Turning to face him he looks bored like he’s already a few steps ahead but can’t tell. “But whoever did this clearly was aiming for the attention of not a certain god but a certain someone I’d say.”

“And who might that be?” Sebastian was still silent looming over Ciels shoulder simply watching. Glancing at the symbols once more you finally spoke once more. “Theyre scarficing in hopes of getting my attention.”

“Your attention, and how could that possibly be?” Ciel laughed out his response. Before you could respond Sebastian finally stepped forward.

“My lord if I may (y/n) here became a deity of some sorts to those accused of witchcraft over time. A witch that cursed the land and the people who stole it. The witch who could not be burned I believe is the title they bestowed upon her.”

“Thanks for the exposition Sebastian” sarcasm laced in every word you spoke.

“Let me get this straight this is the second human sacrifice we’ve discovered so far and it’s all thanks to you.” Ciell didn’t know wether be disgusted or impressed.

“To be clear I have never once asked for a human sacrifice on anyone who made a deal with me. I’m not exactly sure what prompted this but whoever did this is dangerous more dangerous than me or him.” You say gesturing to Sebastian.

“More dangerous than two demons?” Ciels response was cocky his way of sayingI have to demons under my command and no one can stop me.

“Demons do not go around killing for the sake of fun contrary to popular belief. There are rule at play that we all must follow. Those rules don’t apply to human. You of all people should know what humans are capable of.”

He simply rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest “ and how do you propose we find this witch”

“My best guess check local apothecary’s and herbalist shops. There’s what looks like the leftover blossoms of detura in the alter bowl and that really only can be cultivated in north and South America.”

“How exactly is a herboligist going to help”

“Detura is a highly dangerous nightshade meant to represent demons and nightfall buuuuttt the kicker is it can only be harvested natively in souther parts of the North American continent. It’s very poisoness and very hard to cultivate. However the plant is a well known hallucigen with the right amount of it I bet you your Witch drugged the victim as well that probably why no one reported a disturbance since if the victim was to high to scream no one would have noticed.” Ciel didn’t respond right away rather content on thinking the whole crime scene through.

It’s such a waste to see a human life taken so early they didn’t tell me wether the victim was male or femal but by the smell of the blood it was a young women in her late teens. Taken to soon by a power hungry witch looking to score a deal.

Ciels voice cut through the air breaking the papble silence

“Sebastian, how many apothecary’s and herbalist shops are there in the radius of the two murders.”

“There are percicly two apothecary’s and one herbologist with radius of the two murders, my lord”

“I’d start there if I were you as well as confirm if the victims actually have the drug in their system. The only thing I just don’t understand is why is there so much blood”

“ I believe the victims throats where cut”

“No shit Sherlock but this knife clearly isn’t the murder weapon” you say as you gesture to the one on the alter

“ and what exactly leads you to believe that”

“Although it might have blood on it it’s steraded whatever was used was sharp and I mean very sharp although a seraded knife has just the same effect one with a plain sharp edge is gonna cause more damage, a seraded knife would have left blood all over the wall and who ever did this.”

Before responding Ciel sighed knowing this conversation meant a trip to the one person he always dreaded collecting information from. He pinched the bridge of his nose clearly annoyed by the notion before speaking.

“I suppose this means we must pay the undertaker a visit.”

“Indeed my lord”

“Does this mean we have to get back in that carriage cause I think im gonna vomit if i have to ride in one of those again” Sebastian merely chuckled but Ciel had a genuine curriostity in his eyes.

“How do people get around without carriages where you’re from?”

“They have cars and buses and bikes, that are not made out of ply wood from Home Depot.” Although slightly perplexed by your vernacular Ciel got the idea.

“Are you implying that everyone has an automobile in the future?”

“Well I mean not everyone has one but most people do, shit you can get a hunker junker that just barely runs off facebook market place for like a few hundred bucks. And yeah I know like a few hundred dollars is quite a lot now but trust me in the future that ain’t shit.” He simply stared at you like you were speaking an entirely diffrent language but deep down you knew he probably understood what you just said.

“Yeah inflations a bitch” before he could respond Sebastian cleared his throat and directed you out of the bloodstained room and out of the rundown town house. Climbing back in the carriage for a short ride down the street and around the corner to and even more rundown building with a large sign out front marked UNDERTAKER.

I seriously don’t remember all of London looking so old and run down.

Existing the carriage once more Sebastian hold the door open for both you and Ciel to enter the rickety crack shack this place seemed to be. A small set of bells jiggled on the door to alert when someone has entered the shop. Immediately upon entering you noticed a certain air about the place not just the putridee smell of fermedihyde but the power radiating off one of the coffins and the uneasy it brought about. Your stomach churned in a way unfamiliar to you in ages. A sort of fear, surely Sebastian felt it to yet he remained unfazed.

Ciel called out “Undertaker are about?” A chuckle came from one of the coffins before the lid slide open to reveale what one might assume was an older gentleman although his suspiciously unwrinkled skin and long hair told you otherwise

“I thought I might be due for a visit with you my lord”

“Enough games do you have any useful informations regarding the two bodies of the young women murdered this past week”

Straight to the point I see

The undertaker chuckled once more “Surely you know the price of such precious information my lord.” with every word he spoke your stomach jumped

There is seriously something wrong with this dude

Ciel rolled his eyes “two women are dead and you still insist on seeking form of payment in cheep laughs, Sebastian?”

“My lord I implore you and miss (y/n) to step outside for a moment” Ciel turned to leave but not before the undertaker stepped fully out of the coffin and spoke once more

“No I want one from her” his long black fingernails pointed at you. He was practically frothing at the mouth with anticipation.

“Me?” You pointed at yourself.

“Yes you deary surely you know a good laugh.” Sebastian stepped in between you to before he could make anymore advances.

“I apolgize but she simply isn’t the comical type” in attempt to stay “proper” while out and about in public with the earl you had reframed from swearing to offensively but throwing caution to the wind with this one you respond.

“The fuck Im not” In an instant your outburst had the undertaker giggling like a school girl. “Correct me if Im wrong but you’re the one who’s had a stick up your tight ass since I got here plus let’s be honest Sebastian you’ve never really been the stand up type. I don’t even thing you could squeeze a laugh out of that tight ass cunt of yours if you tried. I happen to thing im the funniest mother fucker in this whole damn city” With every word the Undertakers laughed grew and grew to the point you thought you might go deaf. Sending Sebastian a wink at the end of your little rant resulted in nothing but death glares from him and a mortified stare from Ciel. After nearly keeling over in cardiac arrest the undertakers laughed died down and he seemed ready to talk.

“You’ve got yourself quite the comedian there Sebastian, be sure not lose her.” The undertakers deemner seemed to change from one of foolishness to that of stone cold seriousness. “So you wanna know about the girls eh? They both came to me in quite rough shape but I stitched them up real good” before Ciel could speak up you stepped in

“Was the slices in their throats clean”

“Oh yes quite if I do say so myself. Any deeper and their heads would have come right off.” He made a gesture to his neck as he did so.

“Did you happen to look at the contents of their stomach during the autopsy’s?”

“You seem to know your stuff deary, You lookin for something in particular”

“Yes, did you happen to notice any half digested plant based matueral like a flower of some sorts”

“I did notice an odd white flower in both of their stomachs” his answer was short as he thought about it more and more.

“Can you resonably asume a cause of death”

“If it were me id say it was the big slathes in their throats,hehehehe” the smile crept back onto his face.

There is no way this freak was human

You turn to Ciel to see if he had any other questions for the mad man but he simply thanked him and we were on our way. The carriage ride back to the manor was near dead silent Sebastian had taken off to interview the shops and hopefully find a description of our suspect.

Ciel spoke breaking the nauseating awkward silence.

“Do you truly believe that the one sacrificing these girls is doing it to gain your attention.” He sounded skeptical.

“I’d like to say no, but the answer unfortunately was yes.”

“And what exactly lead you to this conclusion.”

“Back in the day when “witches” were more or less hunted for sport in America I became some what of a legend. I would make deals with certain people I’d give them power in exchange for something. I assume that’s what this ding bat is trying to do but clearly they just can’t get it right.”

“So she is going about killing innocent girls for nothing”

“Basically, never once has a spell designed to summon me ever required a human sacrifice I mean that’s like down right barbaric.”

He ignored you sentiment.

“What exactly did you take on exachage for power.”

“I wanted access to their minds. Yah know poke around see what happening in there.”

“That’s all?”

“Yeah usually I loved seeing what made people tick.”

“Surely you did more than poke around in there.”

“Oh I mean I definitely took more but to quite honest that’s not your concern”

“I beg to differ you did poke around in my head, without my permission I might add.” Irritation crept into his voice.

“That’s how the game works, it’s not my fault you don’t know the rules.”

“How was I supposed to know the rules.”

“Honey listen I’m literally a being that is designed to create chaos across the universe why would I tell you the rules for a game you didn’t know you were playing. If anything Sebastian should have warned you.”

He muttered under his breath something about curse that blasted demon. Yet he gave no response.

“It’s sad yah know, what happened to you.”

“I do not need pity from a bloody demon of all things.”

“Ouch and I just can’t help but think how you may have turned out if you got me instead of him.” You through a finger behind you to gesture losing to the direction you left Sebastian.

“And what exactly is that supposed to mean?” He was seething.

“We’ll first things first I wouldn’t have taken your soul I have no interest in dealing souls, and honestly I wouldn’t have even charged you for my services I can’t stand those who take advantage of other especially children.”

“Good to know, I’ll have to remember that for next time.” His sarcastic response hurt but you understood where he was coming from.

“He cares yah know, about you”

“Demons don’t care about anyone but themselves.”

“And who told you that?”

“Sebastian.”

“They’re complex creatures it’s not as simple as caring and not caring. Think of them as apex carnivore if you will. They fill the simple nich of population control but they still care about the ones close to them.”

His eyes drift from the window to you lazily. “Do you honestly believe that.”

“Do you honestly believe that you deserved what happened to you simply because you’re born of nobility” the question hit him like a dagger through the heart. His eyes widened and his breath caught in his chest. He looked down at the ground before speaking once more.

“I believe I am Earl Ciel Phantomhive, The Queen’s Guard Dog my purpose is to follow her orders and nothing more.”

“Ciel do you seriously have your head so far up your ass that heel to a monarch that cares nothing for you. A monarch that stands for centuries of corruption, salvery, colonialism. A monarch that sees you as just another one of her pawns in big imperialistic society. Don’t let her turn you into some noble pig.”

He was silent still looking out the window mulling over your words.

“It’s just a thought but you can be your own person.”

Choosing to bypass your slander towards the British government he moved on.

“You’re living in your parents shadow. You don’t have to be what your father was. You don’t have to….” You trailed off debating if starting this argument was even worth it but your conscience got the better of you.

Sebastian gonna kill me for this one.

“I don’t have to what?” His words were pointed like he was ready to hit you over the head with that cane no matter your answer.

“You don’t have to avenge them. Sometimes the dead are better off dead and more blood shed is never the answer.”

Your eyes met and you saw a fire a fire you’d only ever saw in Sebastian when he is really really mad at you.

“It is my duty to avenge them my responsibility and I will stop at nothing to achieve that goal. Do you understand witch” his words stuck deep in your gut. Your eyes changed in an instant and the carriage lurched forward to a stop. You threw the door open and before anything rash could happen you saw Sebastian waiting exspectantly by the front door.

“Get your fucking kid under control.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

You turn to Ciel “tell him what you just called me.” Ciel was silent his blue eyes shown with pride. “A witch” you reeled your hand back to teach the kid a lesson but Sebastian grabbed your arm before you could do so.

“Im gonna burn you at the stake and see how you feel about it 3 centuries later.” You yanked your arm from Sebastian’s grasp before taking off down the rode you just came from.

“And where exactly are you going?” Sebastian called.

“Out I’m going out!” Pulling the vape from you bra you pulled a big hit and blew it in their direction and ended that sign off with two middle fingers held high.

So here you found yourself in a filthy pub drinking beer that’s somehow weak but also shitty.

“What’s a lady like you doing in a place like this.” You look up to be met with a head full of fire engine red hair that practically touched the floor and sharp green eyes slightly hidden behind square cut glasses.

“What’s it to you”

“Well women to women it’s not often you find pretty faces in such a dingy establishment.”

“Okay we’ll then women to women what exactly are you doing in this fine establishment.”

“Oh yah know this and that. To be completely frank dear I’m here on overtime.”

“Overtime you say and what is it exactly that you do.”

“Knows where’s the fun if I just tell you.” Her voice was full of curiosity like crow presented with a new puzzle. She formally introduced her self as Grell Stucliff and right off the bat you knew what she was that didn’t stop you from conversing from her though.

“So tell me Grell if you’re supposed to be out their collecting souls what are you doing in here.”

“Well they’re a tiny detail I’ve neglected to mention.” She fiddled with hands refusing eye contact.

“And what’s that sugar.” She was different than most you’ve met in a while. Not afraid of exspressing herself. She didn’t hid behind stock exspressions or social norms as many did of this time.

“I was sort of sent here looking for you.”

“Me?” You said and you crossed your legs and leaned forward to look her in the eyes.

“Yes well the administration had informed me of a demon who seamed to be messing with the timeline.”

“The timeline? Did little ol me cause y’all some trouble” although your voice seemed ingenue you knew messing with timelines was a big no no so big in fact you could be exacuted over it. She seemed to snap out of her nervous behavior to something more relaxed.

“I’m sure it’s not that big a deal anyways. They’re always fussing over this and that these days. Tell me you’re a demon right.”

“I suppose you could call me that.”

“You would happen to know another demon names Sebastian would you.”

Desciding to play a game you tapped your chin and pretending to think

“Hmmm? Sebastian you said?”

“Oh yes Bassy has the most beautiful amber eyes, and gorgeous raven hair OH and theirs that little brat that always follows him around.”

“OH that Sebastian, yeah I know him.”

“Does he ever talk about me.” She brought ther thumb to her lips in a coy manor.

“Hmm I don��t think he’s ever mentioned a lovely lady like you. But then again who actually listens to what he has to say.”

You glanced at the clock on the wall realizing the time. Although you couldn’t hear it with all the noise in the room you felt Sebastian pull the door open to the pub and make a b-line towards where you and grell had situated in the back booth.

He came to stand right in front of your table wordlessly observing the two of you. Grell had yet to take notice of him to imfuated with the story she was telling you. You sat cross legged one arm over the back of the booth practically around grell she took no mind though. She followed your gaze to the demon infront of you.

“Oh bassy fancy seeing you in place like this.”

“I’ve come to collect (y/n).”

Grell leaned back in her seat and into your side where your hand went to wrap around her shoulder she was slouched slightly since she was quite a bit taller than you.

“No I think I’m good right here.”

“Do not be a fool we are leaving.” Sebastian seemed mad, Ciel must have told him what you said in the carriage that or suddenly he can read minds.

“You heard what the lady said she’s not leaving” Grells voice filled the crowded space. On a normal day she might have been needlessly flirting with Sebastian. However today the girl code called for her to not leave her new friends side.

“I do not believe I was addressing you Mr.Sutcliff.” You turned you head to look at Grell she had a sort of sadness in her eyes when Sebastian addressed her as Mr. In the few short hours you spent here talking with her you learned a thing or two. Firstly her favorite color was red, she was the only lady grim reaper and lastly, she 100% identified as a women. Even though you were at least attempting to repair your relationship with him you to have always been hot and cold rather than one or the other so you chose to fight.

“I’m not going ANYWHERE until you apologize to her.”

Sebastian face contorted into one of disgust and confusion.

“I’m sorry whatever do you mean.”

“You know exactly what I mean.”

“On the contrary I do not.”

“Ms.Sutcliff, not Mr.Stucliff” if you hadn’t been glaring daggers into Sebastian you may just have missed the stars in Grells eyes.

Sebastian sighed before pinching the bridge if his nose and speaking “I don’t apologize Ms.Sutcliff”

“See was that so hard.”

Pulling your arm out from behind Grell you turned to her as you stand.

“We’ll see yah around sugar let me know if you need a partner in crime. You know where I’m staying.” And with a wink you and Sebastian were off. Grell sat there stunned before a certain two toned hair reaper entered the pub looking for her.

………………

Back at the manor Sebastian lead you into Ciels study.

“I see you’re back from galvanting about, while you were off pouting we have compromised a short list of suspects and we were wondering if you could identify any of these names.” You snatched the paper out of his hand and took a look. Only a short list of 5 names was there and none stood out except for one.

How is that possible?

Your eyes widened in realization.

“Sterling Pines”

“Does that name ring a bell” ciel asked

“Yeah sorta but only the last name. I think I honestly know her descendants and that would mean that family has a long line of messing with things that shouldn’t be messed with.”

Ciel reached down and pulled out a file from the stack on the desk.

“Sterling Pines seems to have immigrated here from America of all places. She is 29 years old has a husband and son she left behind in America.” Ciel looked at you excpetantly.

“Knowing her descendants and let’s just say they have a history of messing with dream demons, she definitely not an actual witch.”

“So just a human prentending they are something they are not.”

“Yeah seems like there are a lot of those around here.” Sebastian hand fell on your shoulder squeezing to say watch it.

“So how exactly do you know her descendants?” He questioned leaning forward in his desk chair to rest his embows on the desk.

“That’s doesn’t matter what matters is we have her name so that means we can find her.”

“And how exactly do you propose we do that? It’s not like I can send Sebastian out to search the entire city” you smile turning to Sebastian with a glint of mischief in your eye.

“I think I know someone. You don’t happen to have one of those ancient telephones do you. I happen to have her number.” Grell had given you her number at the bar partly in hopes of seeing Sebastian again and also just because she’s taken a liking to you. Sebastian lead you out the office to the phone.

“I do hope you don’t plan to call that reaper he can be quite a nuisance.”

“I happen to think SHE is wonderful.”

Rubbing your first finger and thumb together you produced a spark and touched the telephone wire. Come on did you really think a regular old telephone could reach a reaper. The phone rang twice before

“Hello” was heard.

“Grell? Hey sugar it’s me I was just wondering if you could do me a little favor.” Your eyes meet Sebastian’s his was clearly annoyed by the thought of even consulting a reaper.

“Well I suppose that depends on what that favor is.”

“I just need help finding someone and you reapers are quite good at that aren’t you?”

“Well of course we’re deadly efficient” you could practically hear her posing over the phone. “Who might you be looking for exactly?”

“Oh just some wanna be named Sterling Pines. Does the name ring a bell?”

“It does I believe I collected her last victim just the other night, oh that girl was such a pretty young thing even more beautiful painted in all that red.”

“Oh really would you be able to tell us where Sterling is hauled up right now.”

You could hear papers rustling over the phone as feel searched for the info.

“Unfortunately not dear, it seems she somehow able to avoid even us. It seems we don’t even have record of her here.”

“Damn well thanks for the help”

Sebastian’s eye twitched as rather than hang up the phone you stood against the wall and started to gab on and on with Grell about this and that. It only went on for so long before he reached up and held down the button on the reserver severing the connection.

“Hey! I was in the middle of a conversation yah know!”

He smiled “and now it over.”

“When you took that kid on as your latest passion project did he also provide the stick up your ass every morning or did you take that upon yourself.”

His smile faultered and his eyes became slits.

“You have quite the mouth on you these days”

“”You have quite the mouth on you these days” you mocked “and just when I thought we’re bonding your a tight ass and I HAVE a tight ass”

“You are going to have to have some serious retraining if you continue to act in such a manor”

“Retraining what are you gonna do spank me? Your so full of it and just when I thought you cared”

“I suppose if that’s what’s required”

“Good god you are SO full of it”

“God is not here my dear”

“Yeah yeah whatever. I guess we’re gonna have to find this witchy bitch the good old fashioned way.”

“And what do you suppose that is”

“magic”

[strawwritesfic]

Steve Rogers x Reader: Linoleum

Summary: Maybe Steve can do this all day, but you are running out of patience.

Rating/Warnings/Tags: All (post-Avengers (2012); married!Steve Rogers; married!Reader; pet-centric; domestic fluff; not canon compliant)

Challenge: “120 Bits of Random” challenge by SugarLandBabyGirl on Lunaescence Archives.

Tag list: @imaginesfire​

Linoleum

It had been Steve’s idea to get a pet, and it had been Steve’s idea to pick the largest dog he could find at the pound. A great, beige mutt with a Saint Bernard face and paws like a mastiff, Thor declared upon spotting the thing that he had at last found a dog large enough to ride. Pepper did her best to find Steve good obedience lessons. Tony expressly forbid it from coming anywhere near his labs. But despite every other Avenger contributing in some fashion to the dog, you were the one that gave him his name: Bear–and however inadvertently, this made you half-owner of a dog so huge and wild that even Captain America had trouble handling it.

Complicating matters was that Steve only decided on getting the dog shortly after he married you, meaning all three of you were sharing a house. If you didn’t keep an eye out, Bear could destroy half the backyard in less than an afternoon. Even if Steve managed to take him on a successful walk, the resulting property damage could wind up extensive. No one and nothing could avoid being mud-splattered with Bear around, least of all Bear himself. Desperately, futilely, you clung to the hope that you could your home clean.

Cue you, Steve, and Bear in the bathroom, Steve shirtless, you as unclothed as you could be without being naked. Bear sat oblivious in the tub, content as he always was until the water came on. You’d give Bear one thing to make the moment of action longer in coming: He was an easy dog to please. You, however, wouldn’t be pleased until he was clean, and he would not be pleased at being given a bath.

You caught a glimpse of Steve getting into position long before you had mentally prepared yourself. He spread his arms, grasped the shampoo bottle, and licked his lips.

“Ready?” he asked once he’d caught your eye. 

Your voice escaped you. You dipped your head and put your hand on the knob, bracing one last second for impact.

Turning the water on had instant effect. Bear lurched backward with an ear-splitting howl. 

Steve stumbled forward. You closed the gap. Even super soldier serum-enhanced arms could not prevent Bear bucking every which way, slamming Steve first into the tiled wall, then into the drawn away curtain with enough force to yank the pole out of place. Somehow Steve held on, taking every opportunity to squeeze soap into Bear’s fur while you attempted to wash the suds away. 

Then it happened: the dog tore free of Steve’s grip and twisted right toward you.

Had you not lunged out of the way at the first opportunity, he would have crushed you leaping out of the tub. Unfortunately, though you regained your footing almost immediately, you took long enough that the dog was already bounding out the open door into the hallway when you were steady enough to look.

“Bear!” you screamed, then dove after him.

“[Name]!” 

But Steve was farther from the door, and his shoulders were too broad to push past you. Dripping and angry, you barreled into the hall. Bear did not stop. He sprinted toward the top of the stairs, flinging muddy water and soggy clumps of dirt every which way.

He disappeared down the stairs, but you were in hot pursuit. Somewhere behind you, Steve shouted for you to be careful. You hardly heard. Soon you were downstairs, too, and rounding the corner into the kitchen.

There Bear stood. The linoleum beneath his feet transformed into a murky puddle. He faced you. 

You stared, slowed, lifted one finger. “Don’t. You. Dare.”

But Bear always dared. He hunched his shoulders. You ran toward him, though to what end you did not even know yourself. 

The result was not that you prevented Bear from shaking his filth all over the room; instead, it was that you stood right next to him when he did. A wave of brown water covered your face and body just as thoroughly as it did the cabinets and refrigerator opposite you. 

Stunned, horrified, you froze. It was only when you thought to spit out what was in your mouth that you realized that Bear was still sitting there, staring dolefully up at you and wagging his tail.

“[Name]! Bear! Are you okay?”

Steve arrived with a clatter. He paused, presumably at the sudden silence. Then, upon spotting that you and the kitchen were now every bit as dirty as Bear had been to begin with, he snickered. Then he chuckled. Then he laughed.

Slowly, you straightened and crossed your arms over your chest. Though Steve should have noticed this, he was too busy having fun at your expense to do so. 

You watched for several minutes then asked, “What’s so funny, Steve?”

“I–You–You’re covered!” Steve managed to gasp between breaths. 

You supposed there must have been something amusing about how someone as interested in keeping things as clean and tidy as you did ended up coated from head to toe in whatever it was the dog had got into that afternoon, but that didn’t mean you appreciated Steve’s behavior. While he attempted to recover, you squelched over to the sink, opened the cabinet underneath it, and pulled out several odds and ends of cleaning supplies. The laughter stopped as soon as you offered them to Steve. 

“What’re these?” he asked, taking the bottles and rags without a second thought.

“You think it’s so funny,” you said over your shoulder as you walked back over to the stairs, “you clean up. He’s your dog.”

“He’s your dog, too.”

“Not right now, he isn’t.”

“But where are you going?”

“To take a shower. And if you want brownie points, you can clean up the mess leading up to the bathroom, too.”

Steve had the sense not to argue. Getting the smelly gunk off your skin made you feel slightly less murderous about the whole situation, but one last detail removed all of your frustration: When you came back downstairs, you found everything (including the dog) clean, and Bear and Steve asleep in an exhausted mound on the couch.

[sardonic-the-writer]

━"How To Summon A Demon For Dummies"

━Tw: Slight flash warning for the gif separator

Summary:

The supernatural wasnt real. Magic was a cheep party trick; all smoke and mirrors to con people out of their money. Demons were a myth created by parents to scare little kids into eating their vegetables.

That's what (Y/n) thought. Untill they were caught up with a demon of their own, who dead set on getting his way.

━Notes: The beginning of something dark

━Song: "Empty Hallways" By Steve Gabry

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four

(Y/n)s fingers hurt.

The fact that someone was leaning over their shoulder munching on some brand name chips didn't make this research any easier.

For the past half hour the free-lance artist had been silently typing away at an old keyboard clogged with food crumbs and flecks of paper. Using their life long friends computer wouldn't normally be their first choice, but seeing as they had stayed longer into the night than planned it looked like (Y/n) didn't have a say in it.

They cringed lightly as Alex swallowed a mouth full of food right next to their ear; presumably to ask a question.

"Remind me exactly why you're using Wikipedia of all places to look up whatever the hell this is." (Y/n) didn't have to look up to know that her muddy blue eyes were staring at what they were typing into the computer.

"It's a commission." They responded shortly. Alex raised an eyebrow waiting for them to go on.

"I got a dm on discord. Someone wants me to do a full body of their oc or whatever and I had to do some research on what species their oc was." (Y/n) continued, clicking on the enter button as they finished their sentence and scanning the results that came up. "No other websites had information on what I was looking for so I turned to Wikipedia."

Alex snorted and backed up. Heading to her messy couch, she flopped on it and snatched the remote.

"Ah yes. Wikipedia. The place where weirdos and crazies hang out. Should be perfect for you." She said all of this in a sardonic voice, pressing some rubber buttons on the remote in her hands to pull up a video. (Y/n) meerly huffed out a slight smile. Playfully flipping them off without looking they retorted.

"Just becuase I became an artist instead of starting a tattoo shop with you doesn't make me a weirdo."

"It was our dream job though (Y/nnnnn)!" Alex whined. They just chuckled and scoured the shitty website more as she surfed the internet.

(Y/n) heard Alex let out a small gasp of excitement as well as say something along the lines of 'he uploaded!' Only after they heard the loud and sadly familliar words 'top of the mornin to ye laddies!' did a groan escape their lips.

"Really Alex? This guy again? All you watch anymore is him. Hell you even drink the coffee he sells, and you hate coffee." With a grumble they added the last part in hopes that their friend would pause the video to argue with them. At least then they could get some work done without the t.v screaming at them from behind. But she meerly shushed them and settled into the stained couch with a giddy grin.

Sighing, they tried to ignore the sounds of a sharp Irish voice from behind and the sound affects of some random video game.

Not but two minutes of listening to that God awful video had passed before they sighed in relief. At least they had found what they were looking for.

"A glitch demon." They read aloud to themself quietly. "An entity that lives and feeds on the internet, often appearing unstable and like its name suggests; a glitch."

As they read more and more, it got less interesting. You could tell this article had been written and edited by someone with less than average vocabulary and it made for a very annoying read. The only part that stuck out was a bolded paragraph in italics, practically begging to be read. Summoning The Entity- was the subtitle that hung over it boldly. That grabbed their attention fairly quick.

The words were forien and complicated to (Y/n)s curious eyes. So much in fact they felt the urge to sound it out as a pathetic attempt to understand it better.

Besides, how real could these things really be.

"Πείτε αυτά τα λόγια και θα ακολουθήσετε. Μόνος σου δεν υπάρχει πλέον δυνατότητα. Παρακολούθησε και ακολουθούσε από οθόνη σε οθόνη. Θα συναντήσεις τη μοίρα σου με μια κραυγή."

It was a strange language. One that they wernt entirely sure was real; not even to mention if they read it right. And while it left them confused, the attention of Alex from behind them had finally been grabbed.

"What are you reading there buddy." She asked with a mix of caution and curiosity. They waved a hand signaling her to come over without taking their eyes off the screen.

"I found what I was looking for." They worked some saliva around in their oddly dry mouth. "The article on glitch demons 'member? Yeah and there was a summoning part. Wanted to see what it sounded like aloud."

Looking away from the screen for the first time in a while to find Alex looking at then with worried eyes, neither adults noticed the glowing white screen fritz out into a green pattern before going back to normal.

The pair proceeded to share a look and have a silent conversation. Alex had always believed in the strange myths that came from the crumpled pages of musty books. (Y/n) was always more of a no nonsense person, dismissing those claims of UFOs and magic as the incoherent ramblings of a crackhead on the street corner.

"It's says here glitch demons, if summoned, can follow someone by electronics kept on one's person (Y/n)."

Alex had turned her attention back to the computer. Reading aloud, their face was set in a grave look that (Y/n) had to resist the urge to roll their eyes at.

"So you're telling me satan's gonna follow me home through me discord." They deadpanned, cutting off their friends words before they could speak again. "Alex you do realize these articles are written by thirteen year olds with an obsession for the paranormal right. This shit is about as real as the ninja turtles you had a crush on in the third grade."

Ignoring the comment made about the fictional vigilantes she had been infatuated with as a child, Alex huffed at (Y/n). She went on a small rant about how this wasn't a laughing manor and that they should be legitimately worried.

(Y/n) managed to calm them down by promising to turn off their phone when they took the bus home that night. It was enough to get her to stop lecturing them, so they took that as a sign to log off the computer and walk to the kitchen.

"Come on. Let's have a drink or two. I think after today we both deserve it."

As the night went on and many glasses were filled to the brim, their phone lay by the computer.

Every once in a while it would glow green.

They woke up with a splitting headache and aching body.

Blinking through an eyeful of crust and bright light, (Y/n) eventually managed to look at their surroundings with a low groan. Everything was sore all over. Like they had jogged twenty miles before getting home last night.

While dirty clothes clung to sweaty skin, they used their elbow to prop their form up on the slightly messy bed. Hair stuck up in every which way as evidence of a good night's sleep.

How exactly did they get home last night? (Y/n) vaugly remembered a lone bus ride home with droopy eyelids and breath that reeked of wiskey. Thanks to their appearance they has gotten their own corner on the bus- no one wanting to sit within three seats of the drunk mess.

Slightly wincing at the memory, they sat up. One thing that stuck around from last night's escapades, besides the clothes on their back, was the aftertaste of hot alcohol in their mouth.

Smacking thier lips together the bleary eyed artist stood up and made a slow beeline out of their room and to the bathroom down the hall. They really had to get out of these clothes.

The shower they indulged themself in didn't take long; nor did the hygienic routine after. Just a simple scrub n brush and they were already strolling back into their room with wet hair feeling ten times better.

While in the shower they had remembered how they neglected to turn off their phone when traveling home last night, but shrugged it off. It was simply to ease Alex's mind anyways, and if she didn't remember the promise what was the harm in ignoring it.

A towel rested upon their barely clothed shoulders when they approached their bed, catching any stray droplets that dared fall from tangled locks. Closing their eyes to ruffle the damp mess of hair, their ears perked up.

It was quiet.

Way too quiet.

(Y/n) brought their movements to a still so they could look around. They hadn't noticed it in their slightly hungover haze, but it seemed that the power was out.

Fans had stopped running their usual white noise, something that hit them hard in the midst of the summers morning. That was the first thing they noticed.

Then it was the black face of their monitor staring back at them.

With a string of small 'shit shit shit shit shit shit's making its way from their lips, they scrambled over to their drawing tablet. As an artist that worked from home doing odd jobs here and there, all of their work was on that goddamn computer. And if they didn't save every last piece of art- well you could kiss that much needed cash goodbye.

After pressing down on the power button hard enough to leave an imprint of the companys logo on their thumb, (Y/n) waited with an anxious demeanor for it to start up.

The feeling that coursed through them after seeing the start up screen beginning to run its usual course was akin to coming up for air in a pool.

If I'm being honest though I think the thing that threw them off was the small green hello that popped up instead of a lockscreen.

(Y/n) blinked once. You could argue it was from the water droplets that were still cascading down their face, but more realistically it was becuase of the five small neon letters looking at them

I think what put them off more was the fact it seemed to be waiting for a response.

With much trepidation, they typed back.

h̷e̴l̵l̸o̵

what's this

n̴o̸ ̴n̷e̸e̴h̷d̸ ̶t̸a̵ ̷b̶e̶ ̷s̴o̸ ̴h̸a̶r̴s̶h̸ ̸d̷o̸l̶l̶

Furrowing their brows together slightly at the weird way of typing, the questioned this unknown stranger about it.

what's with the font

ā̶̹c̸͔̒c̶̡̣̾͂ȩ̸̮̾n̵̟͆t̷̫̲̓

who are you

i̷m̶m̸a̸ ̵b̷i̶t̷ ̵h̷u̶r̵t̴ ̴y̵e̷ ̵d̴o̴n̸'̷ ̸r̴e̷h̵m̷e̶m̴b̸e̸r̷ ̴m̸e̶.̶ ̴y̸a̸ ̶d̵i̸d̵ ̶c̵a̶l̴l̴ ̷f̶e̴r̶ ̷m̴e̶ ̴a̶f̷t̷e̴h̴r̶ ̸a̶l̵l̵ ̷(̵y̸/̶n̸)̷ ̷

how do you know my name

The past few minutes of pure silence was interested by (Y/n) clutching the end of their work desk so hard they heard a shrill creak. Despite audible proof of the strain on the furniture they didn't let up untill the three dots behind 'they are typing' ceased to a hault.

c̶u̸t̶e̷.̴ ̷i̸l̴l̶ ̷c̶a̷t̵c̵h̸ ̴y̸e̷ ̸a̶r̵o̴u̷n̴ ̸l̷a̵s̸s̷.̷ ̸y̴o̸u̴l̴l̶ ̷s̷e̴e̷ ̶m̵e̶h̶ ̶s̵o̶o̵n̸ ̶e̷n̶o̸u̸g̷h̵ ̸

And with that the screen resumed to its normal state. Seconds later the power came back on with it.

Despite the regular noise of their everyday life starting back up again (Y/n) didn't move. They just kept staring wide eyed at their screen as if something was about to jump out of it.

"Well fuck. Maybe those crackheads are right."

Finally done. This took like five hours. You bastards better like it /lh

[yridenergyridenergy]

Misc. Phalaris translation notes

Apparently Kyo almost wore a turkey on his head with glittering eyes for the Phalaris photoshoot?!

There were so many interviews at once, and props to anyone working on full-length translations, but I decided to take out the parts from the magazines and booklet that were the most interesting to me and mix them all in one post. 

- Kyo feels like if he does not work harder, he'd die. He can't settle for the little/standard that's expected of him. Also, he tried new styles of singing first and foremost for himself, because he would not have found it interesting otherwise.

-  Apparently Kyo almost wore a turkey on his head with glittering eyes for the Phalaris photoshoot?!

- For the Oboro photoshoot, at first he wanted to actually be the pregnant woman, or a very fat one, with a muddy face.

- Nobody said anything about how out-there he was in the photoshoots compared to the rest of the band, and he found that really kind.

- Shinya said that it’s a good thing the band is used to working remotely via their network, because it would be hell trying to get everyone in a room at the same hours. Kyo is an early riser (I think around 6AM?), while Shinya tends to go to sleep around that time, as a night owl. Shinya is able to fall asleep whenever he wants and he always feels rested. 

- Schadenfreude took a whole lot of time to complete. The band combined two separate songs. Die is really impressed by Kaoru's efforts to meld the two together.

- Same with Kamuy, which is a combination of one of Die's songs and one of Kaoru's that was created in 2019.

- 13 was produced around the same time as Oboro.

- 13 is technically about a death-row inmate.

- Mouai ni Shosu is a love song.

- Mouai ni Shosu was recorded last but might have been completed earlier.

-  Hibiki was also one of the last songs recorded, as it took a long time to settle. Apparently it sounded too much à-la-THE-FINAL at first.

- Eddie used to be a light song. But Kaoru, and I think Kyo, suggested that this and that part could be faster (”what if...?”), and in the end the whole song changed tempo. 

- Most of the tracks Dir en grey composes at first are mid-tempo, or at least this time around they were. 

- Kamuy was more difficult to compose than Schadenfreude.

- Kaoru was the one who came up with the general song order for Phalaris, but Kyo had almost the same idea.

- The title "Phalaris" was chosen shortly before the announcement for the new album, from a list of other potential names that were almost all Kyo’s suggestions, I think?

- Of course, of all members (beside Kyo), Shinya is the one who knew right away what Phalaris was hahah. He likes cruel things and he has read a lot of novels. Shinya likes that genre as long as it’s not movies?

- The reason for the late completion of the album this time and the number of mixing engineers credited is that, with COVID-19 being less of an impediment, it seems like all of the music industry began working on production, so some of the engineers that Kaoru contacted declined their request, and those who ended up accepting said that they could not work on all of the album's songs.

- When they compose, Kaoru intentionally sends the other members really vague propositions like: "There's also other ways to approach this" to encourage them to try other avenues without narrowing their scope too much. He purposely does not want to look at a song as close to being complete until time is out, to leave the realm of possibilities wide open and keep exploring.

- It seems like Dir en grey kind of had the idea to go for a "dark" album throughout production. Kyo commented that it’s something that Dir en grey is basically drawn to anyway, whether they want to or not. 

- Kaoru said that the Phalaris album was “catchy”, not in a pop sense but because once you start listening, you’re hooked and cannot stop listening. 

- Apparently a lot of Die's compositions tend to have a "singing melody", which Kyo may or may not get inspired by. If it's too close to the vocal melody in the end though, the band tries to make it different, because otherwise it sounds like a pop song in that regard.

Disclaimer that I am not fluent at all in Japanese, so there may be some mistakes, but I triple-checked that turkey thing and it’s accurate hah. 

[verybadatwriting]

Cyborg's Apprentice 1.5

Summary: During a space battle, Reader breaks away from the mayhem to follow Ahsoka as she tries to escape.

Warnings: Crashing, cold, snuggling for warmth

Notes: I mentioned this briefly in Cyborg’s Apprentice 2, and decided to write it. It takes place between CA1 and CA2.

Gn!reader, Sith!reader

Word count: 1,783

Bolts blazed by, a small explosion rocked your ship. In your wake, a streak of smoke. You were so close. The Republic’s base was on its last legs when you saw her. Ahsoka Tano’s ship came hurtling out. 

Now you, Grievous, Skywalker, and Ahsoka were locked in fierce battle. Although your ship was producing a worrying amount of smoke, Tano’s ship was in much worse shape. It listed worryingly close to hitting things as it flew.

You could tell she wasn’t in full control.

Abruptly, she changed course, as Anakin tried to divert your attention.

“General,” you said, watching the light from Tano’s ship streak into the distance.

“Go after her.” He barked. “This battle is already won.”

Wordlessly, you calculated her course and copied it. You were pushed back in your seat by the familiar force of the hyperdrive. 

You circled a planet close. Too close. You had to drastically overcorrect to stay in orbit. The jump must have knocked something out.

The planet was mostly land, only small speckles of ocean peeked through the thick blanket of cloud cover.

Far ahead, you spied Tano’s ship. It was hurdling downward much too fast. Even from so far away, you could feel her fear. It sparked your own.

While you couldn’t do anything to stop her plummet, you knew that, you still brought your fighter into a nosedive down after her. The atmosphere ripped off whatever few functional pieces of equipment still, miraculously, held on through the battle and hyperspace jump.

You closed your eyes tight. The ship ripped through rioting storm clouds, then canopy before carving a scar into the rain soaked ground. You took a breath, shuddering and slowly opened your eyes.

There was no way you were flying off this planet, at least not in this ship. The windshield had shattered, shards of glass sting when you moved. Every piece of metal was either bent, busted, or otherwise broken. A thin layer of water sloshed at your boots.

You raised yourself out onto the grass though the jagged rim where your windshield used to be. The muddy ground was so soft, comforting almost. You lay there, staring up into the clouds as rain pelted you.

You could stay there forever. Just lie there, peacefully sinking in the muck.

Thunder rumbled somewhere in the distance. No.

Tano was out there. What if she was hurt?

You sat up after allowing yourself one more moment in the muck. When you did, you noticed the cold that had seeped through your robes. The wet exacerbated it.

Trailing across the sky, barely distinguishable from the clouds, was a plume of smoke. 

Wrapping your cloak close around your shoulders, you stood and started in the direction it came from. In less than an hour of traversing the endless vines and slick, moss covered roots, you found Tano’s ship. Circling it in dread, you noticed a trail in the mud leading towards a nearby cave. Before allowing yourself hope, you checked the cockpit.

It was empty. A sigh of relief nearly emptied your lungs. It was wild how much you cared about this girl. Finally relieved of at least one worry, you followed the mud path into the cave. Your lightsaber, lit up so you could see better, bathed the cave in red. 

A second, green light flicked on near the back. It rose in a feeble attempt at a defensive position. 

“It’s okay!” You said, lowering your saber. “It’s me, Tano. Just me.”

“Oh thank Maker,” Ahsoka lowered her blade as well. “I saw the red blade and assumed the worst.” By now your eyes had adjusted to the dark, and both of you flicked your blades off. 

“That’s usually a safe bet,” you said, clearing a small space in the middle of your cavernous refuge. 

Next, you dragged over a small armfull of leaves and twigs which were thankfully kept dry under the outermost lip of the cave. After carefully arranging these components, you held an especially crispy twig against your lightsaber. A  small tendril of smoke rose from it.

Soon, you had a modest if not roaring fire. You beckoned for Ahsoka to come closer before you turned and spread out your cloak on the ground to dry. 

Silence reigned for a moment as you both basked in the fire’s heat.

“Careful, now,” you said as Ahsoka scooched even closer to the fire. “Don’t go bursting into flames. Then I’d’ve crashed on this soaked planet for no reason.”

She laughed, really more of a single puff, but heeded your warning. The two of you had a complicated relationship. In public you had to uphold the masquerade of being arch nemeses, but in your private correspondence, encoded and encrypted multiple times over and in these extraordinarily rare moments you had alone together, it felt clear where your loyalties lay. Or at least who they should be with.

You with her. And her with you. 

The sun had set, the only light danced on the walls from the flames.

“Do you think anybody’s gonna find us?” You asked, growing somewhat anxious about the time passing.

“Of course,” Tano shrugged. “I activated the distress beacon on my ship.” 

“D’ya think it still works?” You raised your eyebrows. 

“Hope so.”

Silence returned, broken a few moments later by Tano’s question. 

“Did you mean it?” She asked.

You tilted your head to inquire more.

“In your last message  you said you’d…” she paused, voice full of poorly restrained hope. “Well, implied that if you could, you’d join me.”

“Of course I meant it, Tano.”

“So if the Republic gets here first, you’ll really come with me?”

You nodded. A promise unspoken. 

As the night wore on, the storm still raged outside, and the cold intensified. You were shivering, wrapped in your now dry cloak and huddled next to the fire.

“How are you not cold?” You asked in awe.

“What’d you mean? I’m freezing!”

“Then why aren't you shivering?”

“Y/n, I’m cold blooded.” She watched your face melt in surprise. “Did you seriously not know? I’m a Togruta, for goodness sake!”

“You’re kidding.”

She didn’t even blink, probably too busy wondering how her friend could be so stupid.

“No.” You shook your head. “I’m not letting you freeze your fingers off. Come here.”

You lifted your cloak, wrapped it around her, and held her close. Her skin was like ice. She leaned onto your shoulder. Slowly, as she unthawed and drifted off to sleep, you lowered the two of you to the floor of the cave. 

While stone was the only thing that cushioned your head, you made sure hers was nestled onto your left arm. Your other arm curled around her. You rested your chin on the top of her head and, after ensuring she was wrapped in your cloak as well as she could be, you let yourself drift off to sleep.

You woke up to Ahsoka’s communicator chirping. She wriggled out from under your arm and, stepping over the burnt remains of the fire, sat against the opposite wall.

She spoke quietly with her commander for a few minutes. You only caught a word here or there. Soon enough she closed the channel and the little blue hologram dissipated.

“They’re here?” You asked. She nodded. If the Republic had finally arrived, then why did Tano look so worried?

“But they’re not alone,” she explained. “There’s Separatist forces already on the planet.”

“How?!” You asked, hopes of running from the Separatists with Ahsoka now thoroughly dashed.

“They must’ve picked up my distress signal.”

“Guess it still functions, then.”

The two of you came up with two plans. If the Republic showed up, both of you would go out to meet them. Ahsoka would explain that you were defecting and… Well, after that you couldn’t really plan. The second, worse, option is that the Separatists found you. This was far more likely, seeing as they were already on-world. If you heard the clanking of droids, Ahsoka was to hide in the furthest darkest recess of the cave.

You’d go out to meet them and say she’d got away. Hopefully they were only tasked with retrieving you.

“And if they aren’t?” Ahsoka asked.

“I’ll handle it,” you said. “But… Please stay quiet. Maybe do some of your weird Jedi meditation mumbo jumbo.”

“It’s not weird!” She protested, “All you have to–”

You shushed her, then indicated the tunnel exit. Muted by the still pouring rain and dampened by the muddy slush, but still audible came the shuffling sound of droids marching along. 

No time to say goodbye, you put back on your cloak and perpetually pissed off face and sauntered out of the cave, leaving Tano, your only and thus closest friend, to scamper as far back as she could go.

“About time,” you said, exiting the darkness.

They looked up at you, stupid little faces blank of any emotion. Not happy to see you, not upset at the mud getting worked into their gears and joints. Just blank.

“Commander,” one acknowledged you as it walked past.

“Where are you going?” You stopped the droid as it stepped across the cave’s threshold.

“We have orders to scour the planet until we find the orange padawan.”

“I figured that much out,” you spat. “Why are you going in the cave? Do you not think I would have noticed if the Jedi scum was huddled next to me? Let us continue the search somewhere more plausible. And don’t insult me like that again.”

“But, Commander,” It began, examining the device in its hand. “There’s a heat signature in there.”

“I made a fire to keep from freezing to death. Fire is hot. Must I really explain everything to you?” You turned towards the jungle with a flick of your cloak.

“Roger, roger.” A chorus of robotic voices replied.

Assured they’d follow, you tramped into the dense forest. A droid’s comm beeped. 

“Yes?” It said, then paused for a moment. “They’re right here.” He passed the device to you. “It’s the General.”

“General,” You spoke into the comm. “How can I assi–”

“We’ve searched the southern valley, and I’m sending more troops to assist in your northern search.” He abruptly closed the channel. 

“‘Apprentice!’” You muttered to yourself, mocking his voice, “‘Good to see you’re alive. How are you?’ ‘I’m great, thanks for asking. I’ve only crash landed on an unbearably rainy planet and been forced to betray one set of allegiances today.’”

“What’s that?” Asked a droid.

“Nothing,” you sighed. A Republic ship screeched through the air above you and landed in the clearing of Ahsoka’s crash, now far behind you. 

Good, you thought, at least she’ll get home safe.

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[itwasthisorthemilitary]

April 7th, 2024

Yesterday I went into the city. First to get my packages from Chorrera and lemme tell you, it was like Christmas. I successfully got both packages and now i have a phone case and enough caffeine supplements are least for the next month. It was so successful that i could’ve been happy just going home to Los Mortales right then. But i didn’t. Instead I went to Casco Viejo with Sophie. Casio Viejo is the most touristy part of Panama City and although beautiful, kinda a waste of time. It’s so expensive and there are American tour groups everywhere, and i know I’m American…but I’m not that kind of American. But altogether, pretty successful Saturday.

Today we did a limpieza in town. A limpieza is just a town wide clean up. The idea was to organize it and hopefully community members would join to help. No one wanted to listen to me when i said that no one in their right mind would go to a limpieza at 7 am on a Sunday 🙃 but WHATEVER.

Organizing these things are hard! Where do we get trash bags? Where do we get gloves? What the fuck do we do with all the trash once it’s been collected? On top of that, Momma Bielca telling us that we need to feed the people who do show up. So now we also need to find/buy food with no budget and secure somewhere to cook it. We put very little energy into this limpieza.

All things considered, I’m stunned it turned out as well as it did. Granted it was mostly trainees, but at least 10 community members showed up to help. We filled 24 bags with trash, and another couple wheelbarrows full of glass. Absolutely gnarly, it rained so hard last night so everything was wet and muddy, starting early was good because there was less heat but “less heat” is still like 90° with 100% humidity. It was great to see the difference we made, even if only for the next 24 hours.

After the limpieza i went home and did absolutely nothing for the next 4 hours. It was phenomenal. I started a new book today and im 300 pages in already.

At 4:30, Audrey and Caitlin came over to my house while the moms played bingo. We had told them that this Sunday we would be making all of them dinner to say thank you. Initially it was going to be lasagna but when i saw that 12 oz if ricotta was going to run me $11, we changed gears and made baked ziti, salad, and chocolate chip cookies. I was so nervous because Audrey and Caitlin both told me that they would help however they could, but the ziti was my domain. Also, cooking for 17 people??? Really hard to do in an oven that I’ve never seen used. I’ve been really stressed about not knowing if i got the right quantities, or if they would all hate it. It was hard! Everything just takes so much longer to get organized. But once it was all said and done, we had plenty of ziti, enough to give everyone seconds. And more importantly, they WANTED seconds. Xavier told me i need to teach Audrey how to cook lol. We even had enough to invite some of the neighbors over (I may have overestimated). It was really exciting because other trainees have made their families dinner and

1. 1 Person found their meal hidden in a cupboard the next day

2. Olivia’s family called her dinner “sopa de gringo”

3. Sav saw her family feeding it to the dogs.

Felt really nice to cook with Audrey and Caitlin and the family was so happy.

This week I’ve noticed a very distinct change in the weather. It’s raining more, almost always cloudy, not any cooler, and somewhere more humid than before. But the wind is a lot stronger and feels amazing.

One more week in Los Mortales.

[kelyon]

On the House 3

Belle goes through her first day of being Cora's least favorite person

Read on AO3

Belle’s punishment began bright and early, when Cora opened the door to her bedroom. It was technically morning, but far too early for most of the house to be up. Belle jerked out of a dreamless sleep the instant she heard Cora’s voice.

“Right this way, Mr. Wells. Our Belle will be happy to--oh!”

There was just enough time to sit up and cover her body with her blanket before Cora and the customer walked in. Belle pressed the quilt to her chest, well aware that her shoulders were bare. Last night, after Mr. Gold had left, she had been too tired and too overcome with feeling to bother putting on her chemise. 

Cora couldn’t possibly be shocked at the sight of a naked body, no matter what exclamations she made. At most, Belle might have surprised her--but it was the surprise of a baker seeing that the cakes were done ten minutes before they were supposed to be. For less than an instant, she grimaced at Belle, then turned to the gentleman with a warm smile. 

“As you can see, she’s ready and waiting for you, Mr. Wells. You can pluck this little rose fresh from her flower bed!”

She didn’t give Belle a second glance, before shutting the door and leaving her alone with the customer.

Muddled as her mind was from slumber, Belle knew exactly what she was supposed to do. She let her gaze settle on the customer, keeping her expression soft and pleasant. He was a tall man of middling age, almost fat, but not quite. He wore a light summer frock coat that was stained with grease and sweat. His beady eyes roved over Belle’s naked neck and shoulders. Meaty red hands slowly undid the buttons on his fly.   

Belle took a breath, and smiled. She let the blanket fall a little farther down her breasts. Tease him, tempt him, make him want it.  “Good morning, sir. How can I please you?”

The man sniggered, revealing brown teeth. “You can take off the rest of that blanket and show me your goods, missy.”

She forced her smile to grow deeper and warmer. This must have been how Cora had perfected her art, over years of practice. With an attempt at drama, Belle swept the blanket off of her. She didn’t let herself wince at the cold. She didn’t let her face move a muscle.

“All your goods are right here, sir.” She waved her hand down the line of her body, directing the man’s gaze to the curves of her waist and her hips. Hopefully, she looked like a figure from one of those horrid French photographs some men liked to carry. Her legs remained demurely closed, but that would just excite him more. Show a man something closed and all he’ll want to do is pry it open. He’ll force it, if he has to, but he’ll be more fond of an object that yields and submits in the face of masculine desire.

The man pulled his cock out of his trousers, but kept the rest of his clothes on. Including his muddy shoes. Somehow that seemed more an insult than anything else. He came closer to her, stroking himself in front of her face.

“Give us a kiss, will you, lovely? Let’s say a proper good morning.”

Belle licked her lips in preparation. She hadn’t yet learned how to smile while her mouth was open, but she kept her eyes bright and cheerful. She looked up at him. Unless they said otherwise, men loved being looked up to. It must make them feel like gods. With slow, reverent hands, she took this stranger’s stumpy cock. 

She stroked him for a moment, discreetly inspecting him for sores. Not that she would have been able to do anything about it if he had some. Cora had personally brought this man to her bed. He could be oozing with syphilitic pus and Belle would have no choice but to service him. She cupped his balls--they always liked that--and pulled back his foreskin with her other hand. Delicately at first, she placed her lips on his bulging red cockhead. Then she closed her eyes and opened her mouth. 

To the customer’s credit, he didn’t push into her, or pull her forward and force her to swallow all of him at once. This man didn’t jerk her head or grab at her hair to move her where he wanted. He didn’t choke her or gag her or keep her from breathing. He didn’t touch her at all, just sighed his appreciation and let her work. 

Belle took in more of him, licking and sucking and trying not to retch. For a moment, she dared to get her hopes up; perhaps this would be all he would ask of her. Not that pure fellatio was that much better than any other act. There really wasn’t anything a man could want from you that wasn’t unpleasant and degrading in one way or another. But it was always nice to be violated in only one orifice per customer.

Of course he wanted more. The man pushed on her shoulder, nudging her away from him. She obeyed, releasing his instrument from her lips. Thin strands of her saliva fell from his cock onto her chest.

“That’s a good girl!” He slapped his hand loosely against her jaw, the same way he would pet a horse or a dog. 

Under the mask of a smile, Belle caught her breath and swallowed down the taste of his unwashed flesh. 

“Oh, this is my lucky day.” The man took a few steps to the foot of the bed. With his dirty coat and muddy shoes, he got on the mattress over Belle’s body. “Any day that starts with such a pretty cunt is bound to be a good day.” 

She opened her legs and lay back on the bed. “Oh yes, sir!” she cried when he entered her. “Yes, this will be a good day for me as well, if it starts with such a powerful early riser.”

Above her, the customer sniggered again. His breath was rank on her face. It was even fouler when his slobbery lips covered her mouth. Some men didn’t kiss whores, some men paid extra for whores who would kiss them back.

Only one man said he didn’t kiss whores, but had kissed her because she wasn’t one.

The mirror in the corner was still uncovered from last night. It reflected the bed, and the customer’s hairy backside. It reflected Belle’s face, until she couldn’t look at it anymore.

As the customer thrust and panted, she let out her moans and squeals. She kissed him, threw her arms around him in simulated ecstasy. She did her job. He got what he paid for and enjoyed every moment of it.

She tried to forget the sounds she had made for Mr. Gold, the reactions he had insisted were real, in a way that nothing else in this house was real. She pleasured her customer, and tried to forget what her own pleasure had felt like. 

****

Men tended to take offense if a girl leapt out of bed to wash while he was still in the room. After her customer was concluded, Belle put on her chemise and a mended dressing gown in order to escort him from the house. 

He kept his hand on her waist, kept squeezing and pinching her. She had to play along, had to pretend to flirt with a man who had already paid and was already on his way out. Cora insisted that every moment a customer spent in the house should be pleasurable. She said that kept them coming back.

Belle had a momentary envy for alley-whores. At least they could walk away from a man once he was done with his tuppenny upright. Did those girls have to act like they liked it? Or for that price were the customers’ expectations lower? From Belle’s perspective, that seemed a more honest way to do the trade. She was already just a soft thing for a man to rut against, a hole for him to fill. Why not embrace it? Why not let her body become as misused and hollowed-out as her soul felt?

The man kissed her again before he left. On the cheek. Belle closed the door behind him and wiped it away. 

Now she was free to go through her routine of waking. Now she could dress and brush her hair. Now she could cleanse her body with noxious chemicals and cast off slivers of soap. She could wash the man’s fluids out from between her legs, his stench off her hands, his spittle off her face. She could put the cloth back up over her mirror. She could steel herself a little better, prepare to endure another day of life in Cora’s house. 

****

When she was ready, Belle took the back stairs down to the kitchen. Cora preferred for the girls to use the servant’s stairs whenever they didn’t have a customer with them. When Belle had been a child, she would hide from her governess on these stairs, so she could read adventure books instead of conjugating Latin verbs. Belle had always been welcome in the kitchen, where Mrs. Potts would give her sweets and listen to her prattle on about her stories. The housekeeper used to dote on her, the little girl without a mother.

The butler, Potts, and his wife had stayed on with Belle and her father through it all. Even in the face of ruin. Even when there was nothing to pay them. It was only when Cora bought the house, and made it clear what kind of house it was going to be, that those good people had gone on to seek another situation. 

Now, the kitchen was run by Ruby’s grandmother, who everyone called Granny. Granny Lucas had no compunctions about coming to work at a brothel. She had been a bawd herself for a time but had lost the taste for it after her daughter ran off. Ruby said that when she had first gone out, Granny had tried to act as her pimp, but the lurking image of a furious old woman brandishing an ancient crossbow had been rather bad for business. Staying in Cora’s house was safer for Ruby and easier for Granny.

Mornings in the kitchen were almost homey, with all the girls gathered around the table for a bit of chat before the workday started. Every girl who lived in the house stayed up in the attic, and the kitchen was the only other room where they could relax a little. Even Regina would lounge in a corner chair, perusing the gossip magazines that Cora said were too vulgar for a lady to read in the dining room. Cora and Zelena never came back here, and neither did the customers.       

Astrid was the first person to look up when Belle entered the room. She smiled, bright and true as a star. “Good morning!”

Ruby greeted Belle with raised eyebrows. “Did I hear you with a man earlier?”

“You hear everything,” Belle said as she sat down. 

She took a cup off the table for tea. Granny’s morning tea was strong and sweet, with just enough of a nip to take the edge off. Belle needed it today. She’d tried to clean her mouth with tooth powder, but the rancid taste of her earlier appointment still lingered on her tongue. 

“Cora really put you with a customer this early?” Ella always looked and sounded like she was about to cry. “Doesn’t she normally send them away and tell them to come back later? Was he very rich or something?”

“He didn’t seem rich,” Belle shrugged.

“If Cora thinks she can bring in customers at all hours, she’s going to have to organize us better.” Ruby yawned. “I’m not staying up all night and then getting up in the morning. We should work in shifts, like they do in factories.”

“We already work in shifts,” Astrid giggled. “And then customers take them off!”

Ruby laughed, more out of encouragement than humor. It had only been a few weeks since Astrid had fallen from grace and landed on her back. The poor girl had been training as a nun before coming to the house, so teaching her how to use unholy language was a work in progress. 

A heavy set of feet came thundering down the stairs, followed by much lighter steps. Apparently, Anastasia had let her paramour spend the night again.

“Allo, ladies!” Will Scarlet gave them all a wave. He had the buoyant good humor of a man who hadn’t had to pay for his lady’s time. Rubbing his hands together, he sidled up to where Granny was bent over the stove. “That smells good.”

Granny smacked him away. “You don’t work here, you don’t eat here.”

“Aw, Granny, I’m hungry!” he whined. “And I work here! Ana had me working like a dog not ten minutes ago.”

At the table, Anastasia snorted into her tea. 

Of all the girls in this house, Anastasia had the most potential. If Cora ever had anything good to say about anyone, it was about Anastasia. She was classically beautiful--all flaxen hair and rosy cheeks and pink lips that seemed to be forever pouting--and she had an air of effortless charm. Men flocked to her like flies to honey, and Anastasia had a finely-honed instinct for which one would be the most beneficial to her. She flirted with everyone, went to bed with as many gentlemen as she could, and steadfastly reserved her heart for Will. 

That was the part that puzzled Belle. How was it possible to fuck for your bread and butter and still have any appetite for it at all? Was Anastasia as insatiable as they all pretended to be? Or did she love Will so much that she would do extra work just for him? Was it work, when they were together? What would it be like, Belle wondered, to be fond of the man you went to bed with?

Granny would not be moved, even when Will offered to pay her for his breakfast. 

“This is a whorehouse, not a boarding house. Now get out before the boss finds you.”

The mention of Cora put the fear of God into Will. He gave Anastasia a loving kiss, the rest of them a friendly wave, and then he was out the back door and into the alley like a stray cat. 

Ruby turned to Ella. “Your boy could spend the night too, you know. None of us would say anything.”

Ella blushed crimson and put her hands over her protruding belly. “Thomas isn’t that daring. If Cora found out, she would tell the Judge, and--”

“And that would be worse than where you are now, darling?” Anastasia gave Ella a knowing look. 

“It can always get worse,” Belle muttered. “Especially if you get on Cora’s bad side.”

There were murmurs of agreement. Granny came around with the pot of hot porridge. She went around the table and served the girls one by one--until she got to Belle. For Belle, Granny pulled out a slice of bread from her apron pocket and placed it in her empty bowl.

“Sorry dear,” she said grimly. “Orders from the top.”

Belle nodded at the old woman. It wasn’t her fault. Around the table, everyone was staring at her, with various levels of shock and horror. 

She tried to laugh it off. “See? What did I just say? It can always get worse.” 

Ruby let out a long breath. “What did you do that was so terrible?”

Belle shrugged. “Got picked by the wrong man.”

Astrid gaped. “But that’s--”

“It doesn’t matter,” Belle lied. “I’ll just let it blow over.”

“Who is this wrong man anyway?” Anastasia asked. “Let us know so we can all avoid him.”

Before Belle could answer, the bell rang in the front hall. All of them went quiet, listening for who was at the door. From three rooms away, Cora’s voice rang out:

“Ah, Mr. Quigley! How wonderful to see you again!”

Everyone groaned. Mr. Quigley was a regular customer, but nobody’s favorite. He wasn’t a bad man, exactly, but he never seemed to know his own strength. Having him on top of you could be brutal.

“I’ll go,” Ella stood up. “Ever since I started to show, he’s treated me like I’m made of glass.”

Ruby lifted her teacup in salute. “Your strength and bravery are a model for us all.”

When Ella left, Anastasia asked again. “Belle darling, tell us. Who did you tup that Cora wants to kill you for it?”

Belle picked at her bread. It was yesterday’s bread, stale and dry. Granny hadn’t gone to the baker’s yet today. 

“It was Mr. Gold,” she said. “Cora wanted him for one of the ladies but I was in the room and he picked me instead.”

“Oh, I met that man last night,” Ruby said. “Cora said we should do anything he wants us to. He’s a short man, so he probably wants to hear how big his cock is.”

“I thought they all wanted that?” Astrid said with honest curiosity and confusion.

Before Belle could say anything else about her night with Mr. Gold, Ella came back into the kitchen with a worried look on her face.

“Belle?” she said. “Cora wants you to take Mr. Quigley. She insisted.”

“I bet she did,” Belle muttered as she stood up.  

****

Up in her room, Belle gripped the whitewashed bars of her headboard to keep from screaming as Mr. Quigley pounded into her. At least he didn’t smell, she told herself. At least he wasn’t trying to hurt her. It could be worse. Knowing Cora, it would be much worse, very soon.

When it was over, she walked Mr. Quigley down to the front door. It was very important not to limp, after a man was done with you, unless you knew he liked knowing he had hurt you. Most of them weren’t cruel, not really. Most men liked it when the women around them were happy and well. So the girls had to appear happy and well, no matter what a lie that might be. 

At least Mr. Quigley did not kiss her when he left. 

Too fatigued to make another trek up three flights of stairs, Belle went into the kitchen to wash. The other girls had gone, and Granny was washing dishes. She gave Belle a sympathetic look, and let her dip a rag into the warm and soapy water. 

At least there was no blood this time. 

When Belle went into the parlor, Ella and Anastasia were playing cards while they waited for daytime customers. Ruby must have taken Astrid out for a walking lesson on the streets of the city. Regina was up, reading a letter by the window. Her face grew more sour by the line. Belle walked by her on her way to the pianoforte. 

“Duke Leopold?” she asked, mostly to keep her mind off of how much it hurt to sit down on the wooden piano stool.

Regina looked up. “He was so impressed with me at the opera, he’s invited me to his estate in the country. He says it will be an overnight visit. Normally, that would mean he wants me in his bed, but with this man…” She shook her head, pointed to a section of the letter. “He wants me to meet his daughter. His eleven-year-old daughter. What man says that to a girl he wants to be his mistress?”

Belle’s hands stretched out on the keyboard. She played a few chords from memory, no particular tune. Even that little soothed her spirit. In Cora’s house, music was Belle’s only means of creating beauty and harmony. 

“Your mother would tell you you’re not a girl,” Belle said. “You’re a lady, so of course he should treat you like a queen.” 

Regina scoffed. “He could treat me like I’m a woman, and not just a--a--I don’t know what he thinks I am.” 

Before Belle could reply, the doorbell rang again. Her breath stopped. She lifted her fingers off the keys and listened for who it was.

Cora’s voice didn’t carry through the hall, so it must not be a customer. Belle began to breathe again, then stopped when Cora strode into the parlor. She carried a vase of white roses with both hands. She was already angry, and now sought out a reason for it. 

“Regina! What are you doing in the sunlight? It will ruin your complexion.”  

Belle watched Regina straighten up. “I was reading this letter from Duke Leopold.” 

“Duke Leopold’s late wife was so fair her skin looked like snow.” Cora stalked toward her daughter. “You’re swarthier than Anastasia’s Mr. al Vizer.”

Across the room, Anastasia rolled her eyes at the mention of her very rich, but very odious, Arabian regular. Beside her, Ella looked ready to cry. Regina stood up. “Mother, you’re being unfair.”

“Go to the kitchen and ask Granny for lemon juice. You’ll wash with it every day until you stop looking like a pirate.”

Unable to do anything but clench her jaw and obey, Regina stormed off into the kitchen. Cora allowed herself a luxurious thirty seconds to seethe before she turned to Belle with a calm but knowing look.

“Well, dear, since you clearly have nothing else to do, why don’t you make yourself useful and bring these flowers up to my daughter? They’re from an admirer who remains anonymous, for the moment.”

Belle stood, as quickly as her battered body would allow. “Yes, Mrs. Mills,” she said softly.

She took the vase of white roses and left the parlor. As she went up the stairs, she could see into the parlor door. She lingered for a moment to catch her breath. In the parlor below, Cora tossed something into the fire, then stood and watched it burn.

Belle continued up the stairs.   

Of all the flowers gentlemen sent to the house, Belle liked roses best. The ones she carried now were particularly elegant, long-stemmed and tight-budded. The beauty of roses was in their simplicity. While a rose was a welcome addition to any bouquet, she admired the flower’s ability to stand on its own. A single bloom or a full vase were equally enchanting. Roses were soft and lovely, no less beautiful for their thorns.

Curious, that an admirer would send white roses to Zelena. The white rose symbolized purity, innocent love. Not the kind of gift a man gives to a whore. If Duke Leopold had sent these flowers to Regina, that would almost make sense. The poor man barely seemed aware of what Regina did for a living, so his affections for her could be entirely innocent. But these were for Zelena, who never let anyone doubt her availability. Perhaps it was a joke between her and the sender. 

Belle was too tired to give the matter any more thought than that.

Up on the third floor, the door to Zelena’s room was closed. For most other rooms in this house, Belle would take that as an indication that there was a customer inside, and that she shouldn’t interrupt. But Cora’s daughters had permission to close their doors even when they were alone, as Belle assumed Zelena was now. 

Shifting the vase to one hand, Belle knocked on Zelena’s door. 

“Who is it?” sounded from the other side.

“It’s Belle,” she said. “Someone sent you flowers.”

“Oh, then come.” 

Belle opened the door, but Zelena had not finished speaking.

“Oh, yes! Come for me!”

From inside Zelena’s sitting room, it was clear that she was not alone. The bed was in full view of the door, so Zelena was in full view of Belle. She was completely naked, on her hands and knees, with her customer standing behind her on the bed, plowing into her for all he was worth.

Belle shut the door behind her quickly, only belatedly thinking that she should have shut it in front of her. She should have set the flowers on the floor outside and been on her way.

It was too late now.

She kept her gaze averted from the bed, but she could not turn her ears away from the steady thumping and the squeak of bedsprings. Nor did Belle have any power to deafen herself to the customer’s grunts and Zelena’s encouragements.

“Yes! Yes! Ride me, my stallion, yes!”

Quickly as she could, Belle placed the flowers on an empty table and made for the door.

“Don’t move!” Zelena snapped. The noises from the bed suddenly went silent. “No, not you Norbert, the maid!” After a moment, the bed began to thump again. “We’re nearly done and I want to talk to you.”

Belle nodded. She moved away from the door, and began an in-depth study of the wallpaper. Like everything else Zelena had any say over, it was green. A forest green velvet design against a background of mint. When this room had been Belle’s nursery, the walls had been painted with a mural of a castle, with gallant knights and fair ladies looking out at her with warm and noble expressions. 

 The noises grew louder. Zelena continued in her assertions that the man on top of her was a stallion and that he was riding her to victory. Did she mean to call herself a mare? Or was there a fundamental aspect of horsemanship that Zelena had yet to grasp? 

Either way, it was done quickly. The customer dressed and saw himself out, with Zelena’s praises on his lips. Zelena said her good-byes from the doorway, clad in a silk chemise and an emerald dressing gown. Cora’s daughters weren’t obliged to walk their assignations through the house. 

Zelena kept the contempt off her face until the man was out of the room. As soon as the door closed, she turned to Belle and smirked.

“They’re all pathetic, aren’t they?”

Belle shrugged. “They’re the ones with the money.”

“Well exactly,” Zelena said. She went to the table where Belle had set the flowers. Bending at the waist, she rubbed her nose against the white petals.  “We’re born with what they want. Those poor sods have to go out and work every day just to have enough money for us to think is worth taking. And we milk them dry.”

“Mmm,” Belle said. Usually that was as much as you needed to say when Zelena was talking. 

She took one of the roses out of the vase and smiled into it. “Now who did these come from? I don’t see a card.”

“Your mother said they were from an anonymous admirer.”

Zelena snorted. “Well, I’ve never fucked anyone anonymous. All my gentlemen are of good and proud names. It must be someone who wants me and hasn’t had me yet.”

“Why wouldn’t a man announce himself?” Belle asked. There was no point in trying to win a whore’s affections with romantic gestures, not when it was so easy to simply buy them.

“For the mystery,” Zelena licked her lips. “To build anticipation.” Losing interest, she tossed the rose aside. “Maybe he thinks I’ll let him pay less if he makes me want him first. Men can be so stupid about things like that.” 

That was possible, though white roses wouldn’t be cheap this time of year. Whoever sent these probably didn’t need to vie for a discount on Zelena’s charms. 

“Time for business.” Zelena sat down at the vanity in her bedchamber and began to brush out her long, copper-colored hair. She looked at Belle’s reflection in the mirror. “You must tell me everything about Mr. Gold.”

Belle swallowed. In the mirror, her image floated above Zelena’s shoulder, like a pale ghost. She moved out of the way. Zelena hadn’t invited her to sit, but she leaned against the clothes press off to the side. 

“Um, it was fine. He was--”

“Did he seem tired? Mother said he just got back from business abroad. The journey must have depleted him.” 

“I… didn’t notice.”

She snorted again, sneered at some flaw in her own reflection. “Of course you wouldn’t notice. You’re not actually very good at this, you know. I think that’s why he wanted you. I think Mr. Gold knew he wasn’t up for a challenge, so he decided to take someone who would be impressed with any effort he could manage.”

“That’s not very charitable.”

Zelena let out a single harsh burst of laughter. “No one comes into this house for charity.” She chortled and shook her head at Belle. “How stupid are you? This is why picking you was such a shrewd move on Mr. Gold’s part. He’s an older man, he has limitations. He knew he wasn’t ready for me.”

“Yes,” Belle lied. “That must be it.”

Once her hair was arranged, Zelena began to apply her cosmetics. “He’ll want me soon, I know it. Everybody does.” She blew a red-painted kiss to her reflection. Then she looked over at Belle. “What did he like? Or did you even do anything for him? Tell me you didn’t just lie back and think of England. We all know that’s what you do most of the time, but not with Mr. Gold, please.”

Cheeks burning, Belle spoke with more candor than she would have otherwise. “He likes to be touched,” she said. “And he likes sincerity. He said he wanted something real, not a trollop’s song and dance.” 

With a soft snort, Zelena added another layer of powder to her face. “Perhaps Mr. Gold isn’t as sharp as Mama says he used to be. What kind of man goes to a whorehouse and doesn’t want a whore?”

Belle had no answer to that--or at least nothing she wanted to say to Zelena. She was about to ask if she could go, when the door opened and Cora walked in.

“Good morning, darling,” she said to Zelena. “Mr. Birch told me he had a very pleasant evening. He’d like to have you for dinner at his residence tonight.”

“Do you think he’s good enough for me, Mama?” Zelena looked up with something like hope in her green eyes.

“No.” Cora snuffed out that hope like a candle flame. “But his coin is good enough, and you didn’t have anyone better lined up.” 

Zelena nodded, all business again. “So it’s off to the races.”

After smirking at her daughter, Cora turned to Belle. “Customers are waiting in the parlor while you’re up here bothering my daughter.”

Belle stood at attention, her head bowed. “Of course, Mrs. Mills, I’ll go--”

“Two young men want something they call ‘a pig on a spit.’ You’ve done that before, haven’t you?”

Sudden anger flared up in Belle’s spirit. She glared at Cora. “Actually, no. I’ve never--”

“Well, then you had better apologize to the gentlemen before they begin, and hope they aren’t disappointed by your failure of experience.”

Cora’s rages were frightening, but times like this were worse. When she was quiet and calm, dispassionate to the point of coldness. That was when she was most cruel. 

Belle’s defiance crumpled. She lowered her gaze. “Yes, Mrs. Mills.”

“If they don’t like you, I’ll let them walk out without paying,” Cora smiled. “So you had better make them like you.” 

“Yes, Mrs. Mills.”

[euryd-ce]

⚘ HEAVY RAIN

PAIRING: Yandere! Rosemary! Grace x GN! Reader

CW: Implied Kidnapping, Murder, Violence, Yandere

NOTE: I used (Name), but if you'd like to stick with the theme of Bélóstáin's flower code names no one's stopping you ^^

Whatever plans you had for the day, getting drenched and taking refuge underneath a large tree wasn't one of them. Your predicament could've been easily avoided, that is, if only you'd listened.

The weather forecast should have told you enough, and if you couldn't be persuaded that way, your friends' quick change of plans and warnings should have done the job. But you were hard-headed, and you wanted to make the most out of this trip by exploring every nook and cranny there was around Bélóstáin.

"I'll just take a quick walk!" you'd told your friends, only to let your feet carry you so far away that by the time thunder began rolling in the distance, you could only curse under your breath.

But by a stroke of luck, a grumpy man in blue came to your rescue. At least, that's what you wanted to think. You couldn't quite tell if he was there to mock your pitiful state or to escort you back to the lodgings. Either way, he seemed annoyed at something, or someone for that matter.

Dahlia, you figured from the flower he wore, cleared his throat before speaking with the most unamused eyes and gritted teeth. "The Oracle invites you to stay in her humble abode."

Your eyes narrowed in suspicion, and you recalled the pamphlet you'd read earlier in the morning explicitly stating that she was not to be disturbed. "What? really?"

"Just- follow me." He sighed, extending an arm, and muttering. "You're lucky that she seemed to be in a good enough mood to let an outsider like you into her residence..."

The castle was far larger than any building you'd seen around the island–even the abandoned manor that rested behind the mountains. It intimidated you, to say the least, and you felt more like a trespasser than a welcome guest.

"You!-" Dahlia furiously pointed at the tall masked man once you both arrived around the entrance, but he was silenced at the sight of a purple petal.

"It's a pleasure seeing you here, (Name)." He gracefully bowed, purposefully ignoring Dahlia, and causing him to angrily stomp away with his umbrella.

"I can just wait here, really." you fiddled with your fingers, looking at the muddy mess you'd made on the outdoor flooring. "I greatly appreciate the Oracle's generosity but-"

As if on cue, the low creaking of the large wooden doors interrupted you, and noiselessly peeking out of it was the Oracle herself.

You gulped.

Dinner was quiet, excluding the sounds of trees tapping against the window due to the harsh wind or the pitter pattering of the rain. And as it turned out, you'd have to stay far longer than you thought. The storm's conditions only worsened, so the Oracle–or Rosemary as she'd insisted–was considerate enough to let you stay the night in one of the guest rooms.

You declined at first, with much respect of course. Making an inconvenience in the life of such a revered figure was the last thing you wished to happen, and your friends were surely worried about you by now. But she shook her head and quickly jotted down what she wanted to say on a notepad.

"The rain and winds are too strong for you to resist with just an umbrella. Tell them tomorrow."

"It's really fine, I-" The sound of lightning striking the ground outside startled you. It was getting irritating–that everything seemed so deliberately planned, that even the forces of nature seemed to play along.

"Ah- I... alright..." you meekly agreed, accepting defeat.

Unsurprisingly, even the guest room was lavish. Nothing less was to be expected coming from the private estate of the uncrowned queen of Bélóstáin, after all. The view from one of the balconies surely would've made a wonderful sight had it not been for the heavy rain–you reckoned you could see the lodgings from it on a clear sunny day.

"This isn't so bad... right?" you sighed and blankly stared at the ceiling before drifting away and into your slumber.

You awoke to the sound of the heavy rain.

The storm didn't seem like it was going to die down any sooner, and knowing how insistent Rosemary could be, she'd likely invite–or more so demand–that you stay within her residence until the unforgiving weather were to finally dissipate.

Not that you weren't grateful, you wouldn't dare be, especially when you'd unintentionally interrupted the already busy Oracle of Bélóstáin. But something felt wrong about the special treatment you'd recieved, like it was simply a means of having your attention directed elsewhere, like eventually, the Oracle would never allow you to leave, even when the weather would eventually calm down.

Alas, it was simply a gut feeling, but who was to say that gut feelings only brought up the impossible?

As much as it was tempting to remain on the comfort of the bed, you'd managed to resist. After getting changed, you made your way to the door, but to your surprise, it wouldn't budge open. You tried peeking underneath it, but there was nothing blocking its way from the other side. Then again, there was also the possibility that you just missed something as the space was too small for you to take a proper look. Forcing the door open would only put you at risk for damaging Rosemary's property, so you concluded that it'd been locked from the other side.

But why?

You heard a voice coming from outside, so you took a look down from the balcony and saw two figures–Rosemary and Dahlia, the former holding an umbrella and the latter holding a shovel; he was drenched in the rain. They were standing by three mounds of dirt, all of which had flowers growing over them.

At first, you figured that the Oracle was just tending to a little garden, but you let out a gasp and your hand flew over your mouth when you saw an arm, then eventually the upper half of what looked like (Friend Name) desperately trying to crawl out of the mound and screaming inaudible words into the rain. From what you'd seen, their body was riddled with cuts and their eye had been pierced by one of the flowers, but you couldn't bear to watch any longer, so you turned away from the scene, sitting with your back resting on the railings.

'(Friend Name)?!' you could only hear the sound of your panicked heart. 'Was that (Friend Name)?! What are they doing here?! Where is everyone else?!'

You fearfully looked down from the balcony again.

Everything was back in place. There was no (Friend Name) crawling out of the mound nor was there any sign of struggle out of it, like nothing had happened at all, and like your paranoia had simply rehearsed the entire scene so realisticly. But Rosemary's blank stare told you the contrary, that you'd just witnessed an attempted murder.

She quickly signed a message to Dahlia, who just as immediately dropped the shovel before making his way out of your view. She looked back up at you before putting a finger over her lips, mouthing a "shhh".

Within seconds, the door to your room burst open, and Dahlia frantically bolted to you whilst fumbling open a messy note. He looked more terrified than as angry as when you'd last seen him, but your face fell when you understood why.

'RUN, THE PLANTS ARE HER EYES AND HER EARS, YOUR FRIENDS, THEY'RE UNDERGROUND, BURIED ALIVE, BY ROSEMARY. SHE WANTS TO-' were all you properly read before blood splattered over the crumpled note in your hands.

You looked at Dahlia, but to your horror, blood dripped out of his mouth and he'd been impaled by a rose-gold spear. Behind him stood none other than Rosemary herself, who looked heartbroken at your frightened face.

Jumping off the balcony was your only choice of escape, and although you were more likely to die than to survive and run away, you took your chances; however, Rosemary followed with no hesitation whatsoever. She caught you right before your impact on the ground, but began strangling you in an attempt to make you pass out.

You struggled to breathe, and your vision was already getting blurry, but you swore, moments before you fell unconscious, you heard the familiar voice of (Friend Name), and a warning hoarsely uttered too late.

"(Name).... run.."

'you weren't supposed to see that, you- but i had no choice...' rosemary finally let go of your neck and was relieved to know that you weren't dead. '(name), i- we can still have our happy ending, can't we...? you'll forget about it... for me, won't you?'

not a response was heard, as she wept in the heavy rain.

[satans-helper]

Reaching for Stardust - Part XX

Read Looking for Space here / Playlists / Read RFS on wattpad or read previous parts here

Word Count: ~3800

Warnings: none <3

A/N: Well, my friends, we've made it--the final chapter. I'm so sorry it took me so long to get to. I started it weeks ago but kept faltering. Ending stories is always the most difficult part for me, and letting Josh and Darling go again does hurt my heart a bit. I love these characters and this story and thank you to every one of you who asked me to write this sequel <3 Thank you to all who have taken the time to read it too! <3 I had so much of this mapped out in my head and in various notes that writing most of it felt easy--this last chapter, though I had planned most of it, didn't feel so easy. But I'm happy to say that I'm satisfied with it. I hope you are too <3

---

Nothing at all really changed after we were married. The sun still rose each morning, though not always visible through winter skies. But when it was there, it cast its warm, stunning light through our small but cozy apartment; it threw golden rays across Josh’s serene, pretty face as he slept in our bed and it warmed our sheets as the cold days trickled on. 

I still watched Josh whenever I woke up first, same as always–I watched the shallow, even breaths that made his chest move slightly, the gentle twitch of his eyebrows as he dreamed. I watched the stretching of his limbs when he first began to stir, and the slow blinking with long lashes as he began to open his eyes into the morning light. Then the light would catch in his bronze irises and create a kaleidoscope of diamonds and color, leaving me bewitched and smitten just as I had been years ago. 

And still, with rings on both of our fingers, the smile that graced his sleepy face, on those perfect lips as soft as rose petals, shined even brighter than the sun outside and each morning it looked brand new to my eyes. 

Winter carried on. January staggered on by us in shades of gray and what would normally be a constant state of agonizing monotony wavered into a brighter couple of weeks, even if the sky really was pale and devoid of sunshine past the dawn.

February came on fast and our little world, our little home, was splattered with bold colors–pink, red and purple everywhere, because we’d decided to lean into the commercial capitalism of Valentine’s Day with loads of decorations and frivolity. We went out to dinner, sat beneath artificial warm bulbs and drank wine and talked about the past and the future, but it all felt less painful and less daunting then–I could only explain that emotional relief existing because of our union and because at least this part of our future was solidified. 

But when March came around and we were in the dregs of another Michigan winter–the slow, muddy, wet and snowy days that dragged on and on–and more talk of the future commenced when the boys called a “meeting” of sorts. My heart raced even at hearing the invitation, and the days leading up felt like their own individual eons until I was practically unraveling with nerves and questions about this mystery they were about to lay out. 

Because, after all, was it entirely a mystery? I asked myself when I thought about Danny’s gentle warning from a few months prior–things were happening. Big things. Big changes.

So when Josh and I were officially told that the boys had landed themselves new management and a record deal and were moving to Nashville in May, the two of us silently decided the course of our future was going to change along with theirs. Because, also after all, we were all family and we couldn’t imagine our lives being torn apart like that. It was just that simple. 

Maybe some would call our dynamic codependent, and maybe it wouldn’t be entirely wrong, but I didn’t care. Neither did Josh, who had far more of an incentive to trail along–these were his actual brothers, the guys who had been in his life for forever, and though no one asked anything explicit, it was apparent that his clan wanted him to join them on the journey. I wanted the same thing–I had learned over the years, and especially this past one, that I truly wanted to be with Josh wherever he went, and I wanted us to all be a family no matter what. And, to me, part of being a family meant being together.

Our drive back home was quiet, but not tense–just contemplative. Even with our shared silence, I felt that I could hear the gears moving in Josh’s mind while my own did the same, an endless stream of questions and fears and wishes. And when we were indeed back home, our apartment felt suddenly so stifling to me, and Josh and I moved quickly to begin setting things in motion, beginning with foregoing our entire honeymoon.

“We’ll take another trip sometime,” he assured me as I opened my laptop and went to cancel our flights to Vegas. “After we’re settled in Nashville.”

“There’s no rush,” I said, giving him my own reassuring smile.  It really didn’t bother me. As enticing as Vegas and the desert was, Tennessee had an even more prolific call to it, like it was beckoning us forward. I’d looked at so many pictures of different cities in the state, of course I knew how big the music scene was in Nashville, and I’d never been opposed to visiting–I just never imagined it in this context no matter how many signs had been there leading the way. I was happy–truly. No honeymoon was worth losing the people we loved the most. “Besides, the move is kind of the trip. It’s a whole new adventure.”

“We’ve never even been there before,” Josh said, settling back next to me on the couch, tipping his head up in thought. “Does that make you nervous? It actually makes me a little nervous.”

“Yeah. But we’ll love it. The boys assured us of that.” 

“It’s a big change. It’s a big city.”

“Maybe we need a big change.” After successfully canceling our flights, I shut the laptop and pivoted to face Josh. “I’ve been so afraid of any changes, Josh, and you’ve always been so patient with me. Getting married felt like a huge change but it was the best decision ever and what did it really change? I mean, there’s been good changes. Small ones. Nothing bad.” I laid down on my back, putting my head in his lap. “I’m going to believe that it’s totally possible this move, this big change, will have nothing bad attached to it.”

“That’s a profoundly new and brave outlook to have on it, darling,” Josh said, running his fingers through my hair. “One thing I am worried about is telling the other members of our family. What will your sister say? My parents? Your parents? Our friends?”

I sighed. “I know. That’s the hardest part. The only bad part I can see right now.” 

“Also…” Josh began, twirling a lock of my hair around his finger. “Where are we going to live? Jake, Sam and Danny have their situation figured out. We do not.”

“We can start looking tonight. We can find an apartment–”

“We should get a house,” Josh said, those words profound.

I paused, smirking a bit, before I said, “In this economy? In a city that big? I’m not sure we’re that lucky.”

“We could do it! Both of our parents agreed to let us use their contributions to the honeymoon for a house if that’s what we wanted instead. And now we know that’s what we want.”

“Yeah. Maybe…” I trailed off, the daunting numbers of houses for sale, even more daunting in such a large city, already permeating my mind. Nevertheless, I concluded, wanting to stay on the road of positivity and optimism, “We’ll look at those too. Who knows? Maybe we’ll get lucky and find a cheap gem we can bid on.” 

Josh hummed. “It’ll be strange to do that without actually being inside the house first.”

“Well, wouldn’t it have been the same thing with Savannah?”

“Not necessarily. I had imagined we would have traveled back to look for a place to live there.” 

“You had it all planned out. Secretly,” I said, reaching up to touch his face. “Now we have to scramble a bit. But you’re good at that. You’re the spontaneous, adventurous one.”

Josh smiled proudly. “That I am. Thank you for the reminder.” He grabbed my hand and held it to his cheek. “And I always need my adventure partner.”

—

As I gathered with my friends and family to share the news, I was met with a reasonable amount of initial excitement, questioning trepidation, then slight resistance before people warmed up to the idea. The plan, actually, because no matter what anyone said, it was happening. Josh and I had begun packing up the apartment and getting the other logistics ready–all of it was daunting, even suffocating at times, but just being able to share what was going on with one person after the other felt like a weight off my chest each time.

Well, I told my parents together and, unsurprisingly, they gave me the most anxiety. So many questions–many that I’d already thought of myself, but some that felt unnecessary. But I knew it was because they cared, and they worried, and neither of their children had ever made a big move like this before. 

After a discussion that felt like it went on forever, the three of us sitting on the patio in the backyard I’d grown up in, my parents eventually softened, and their approval and slow-growing excitement was something I hadn’t realized I’d even needed so badly.

Bev was tough–she had half as many questions as my parents but she scrutinized each of my answers with far more intensity. I could tell that her hardened facial expression while we talked, sitting in her apartment that I knew I would miss so much, was a mask over a deep sadness and grief that I felt in my own heart too. 

When her questions and my answers stopped and there was a long minute of silence hanging around us, she sighed and the mask dropped, and I saw tears well in her eyes, something that I’d maybe seen two or three times during the entire course of our friendship. I cried too, wishing that the exciting parts of life like this didn’t involve what felt like cutting a limb off. 

I’d already been given the intel from Jake about his prior discussion with Jane about the move, so I could go to her prepared–I didn’t feel prepared enough though. I didn’t know how to approach it with her even though Jake had told me he and Jane weren’t splitting up and everything was fine, or as fine as it could be. Emotions were strange and jilted for everyone in our circle and I didn’t doubt Jane’s might be far more inflamed by comparison, with her friend AND boyfriend both moving so far away. 

But she was as tender and kind as ever when she came over. We sipped on cheap wine and shared a huge takeout box of french fries on the balcony while the bright blue sky of the spring evening melted into mesmerizing waves of raspberry and lavender. Jane’s affirmations and empathy were as sweet as the sky in my eyes, and I had to blink away more tears while I tried to hide my quivering lips behind the wine glass. But she knew, she saw, she felt it all too, and we wept quietly together. And though I knew she wouldn’t say it, I told her that I knew she’d end up down there with Jake–and all of us–if wanted to in the future. It was only a matter of time. 

That’s all any of it was–time. And time was dwindling, each grain in an invisible but still looming, gigantic hourglass slipping away so quickly as Josh and I went through the motions of checking in with our people, working, packing, making logistical moves and trying not to worry too much. 

What I was most worried about was my relationship with my sister. It hadn’t been long since it had felt repaired and whole again–we were close. We were back to being each other’s rocks no matter what other rocks were also there to keep us stable and not drift away. But now I was going to be leaving, and I was terrified she’d resent me for that. 

“What? I could never,” Kirsti said when I’d expressed that very same concern. Her face was tight with insulted shock, horrified that her own sister could ever use the word “resentment” in reference to our relationship. 

“Well, I’m glad to hear it. Because even though I know that, I was still worried,” I told her. We were in her backyard, as I’d been insisting on spending as much time outside as possible–I wasn’t sure when I’d next get to experience this much of the serene Michigan springs I’d come to love so deeply. Each drift of the afternoon breeze wafted over the scent of newly blooming peonies and unearthed daffodils in its own soft, clean scent. I’d miss everything our hometown had to offer–the subdued natural beauty surrounding us, the fresh air of spring just when the warmer days finally break through the cold, the quaint village and the slow, easy way of living that the entire town shared, the strong sense of community. All of it. But I’d miss my people the very most. 

Kirsti sighed as she leaned back in her deck chair, face turned up toward the cloud-shielded sun. “It was bound to happen eventually. Josh already had the itch to leave, right? Then his own brothers actually decide to take off...” She turned to look at me. “Yeah. It’s understandable. Those boys are all as thick as thieves. You know that better than anyone. Like, they’re not going to go anywhere without the others.”

“Not anywhere that far, no,” I agreed. Detroit was one thing–Nashville was definitely another. “I didn’t envision this happening though. Not completely. I think my brain tried to block it out all the time even though, yeah, it was always a very real possibility. Very likely, actually.”

A robin flitted across the grass, stealing my attention, and I watched it land on the edge of Kirsti’s side garden, where dark dirt sprouting flowers and greenery pressed against the worn out fence. Two squirrels chased each other down a tree, shaking the tender leaves that had recently begun unfurling and bringing shiny green life to the world of us and to all the animals, then a blue jay swooped down from a different tree, sending the robin away.

“You should get a bird bath,” I remarked.

“Maybe I will. But what about you?” Kirsti asked, sitting forward and twisting to face me again. “You said you hadn’t found a place yet, so where are you guys going to put your bird bath?”

“We’re gonna be staying with the boys until we find a place of our own. I’m not sure we’ll have a bird bath anytime soon.” I look into the yard once again, my eyes following a chipmunk that was scampering across the top of the fence. “Moving in and of itself is so expensive, it’s unlikely we’ll be able to get a house. But that’s okay. We’re just excited to be going and we know we’ll get settled eventually.”

Another silent moment passed, only intercepted by the birds chirping and the next door neighbor starting up their car in their driveway, then my sister said, “Don’t take this the wrong way but…it’s interesting that you’re not just like, freaking out about this.” She laughed a little. “You guys have come a long way together.”

I smiled, gazing up at the sky. “You know, we really have.”

—

For what seemed like the first time ever, Josh had more to figure out than I did. I didn’t have to find a new job, but he did, and watching the evolution of emotions in him when he prepared and subsequently sent in his resignation was difficult. At first, the excitement of what was to come overshadowed the anxiety and trepidation–but soon enough, I could see those feelings written on his face, echoed in his body that spent days unusually tense and withdrawn. 

“It’s like starting over in more ways than my mind could comprehend before,” he explained during one of our very last evenings at home. “And you know I already thought about leaving this job before, but I planned to just hop into another teaching job. Now I’m not sure what I’m going to do. There hasn’t been enough time to plan. But more than that, I haven’t had enough mental space to figure out what I even want to plan.” 

We were packing, as had become the usual post-work activity, this time focusing our efforts in the kitchen. There were also a lot of boxes and bags for donation scattered throughout the apartment too, full of things that didn’t hold enough sentimental value or usefulness to justify bringing on the long drive to our new city. 

I prowled through our spice and baking supply cabinet, pausing with an ancient canister of bay leaves in my hand. “I know, baby. It’s hard. You really liked teaching here. It was a good gig.” 

Josh sighed, looking crestfallen. Then he plucked a shot glass from a prior trip to Toronto and held it up, his face brightening: “Remember this?”

“Sure do,” I said, taking it from him as he handed it over to be packed up. “That was a good time. I guess I’ll miss being close to Canada.”

A sigh. “There are a lot of things I’ll miss. More than I realized before.”

The missing didn’t stop us. We hit the road, with more help from our parents, and were in Nashville in just under ten hours. Exhausted and sore, we stepped out into this new place, this new world, and blinked rapidly to move the dryness of our eyes away and to take in the unfamiliar sights. 

The air felt different–warmer, more humid. It smelled different too, not as clear and not as green, but we were surrounded by trees and greenery nonetheless, parked outside the boy’s new house in a southern neighborhood that was so foreign that, when I came to my full senses, I felt like I’d been hit with whiplash. 

Hauling his backpack over his shoulder, Josh said to me, “We’re not in Michigan anymore.”

No, we really weren’t.

I stayed, compelled to be frozen amongst the new trees and in the foreign air, casting my focus from one thing to another. From the small round window in the attic of the house to the second floor, briefly wondering what the bedrooms looked like until a breeze wafted over me and I smelled the faint sweetness of lilies. I spotted them–bright orange daylilies juxtaposed with smaller, dripping vines of pink bleeding hearts–and shook my head slightly, trying to compute everything that had happened within the past 24 hours and where the next 24 would take us. 

I looked at the front of the house, my brow furrowing a little at the unfamiliarity of it juxtaposed with the dire need to “go home” after such a long journey. Home would be here for a while, in this house with the hunter green door and gray siding–it was no longer the weathered white four-story building with the white door to our little apartment and the balcony hanging over our small town, jutting into the sky. Looking up, I saw no balcony, only that same little round window and the four squares below, the curtains drawn, the creeping darkness of the evening penetrating the glass. 

A light turned on in one of the rooms below and I could see Josh moving through what looked like the living room. My heart skipped as I watched, still frozen in that one spot, frozen despite the incessant demand of time dwindling and shoving me forward–he pulled his water bottle out of his backpack and took a long drink. His profile caught my gaze–the smoothness of his skin, all of him glowing in that yellow light, the straight arrow of his nose, his brows tightening as he swallowed and his Adam’s apple bobbing, too. 

My gaze dropped down to my own hands. They felt dry from repeat use of hand sanitizer and thruway rest stop soap, my nails bitten and shredded in such an unattractive way. I’d been anxious the entire drive, an unwavering bundle of prickly nerves in the passenger seat, so much more anxious than during any flight I’d ever been on. It had felt like a betrayal from my entire physical body, even more so when not even Josh’s reassuring hand on my leg or on my wrist made the edginess disappear. 

When I looked up, Josh was in front of me, shadowed from the porch lights. He placed his hands on my wrists again, drifting them down to tangle our fingers together, his eyes soft and his lips pursed a little as he asked, “Are you alright, mama?”

I hadn’t felt it during our drive but I felt it then–the complete relief that came with Josh’s touch. 

I held our hands properly, pulling him closer, my thumbs brushing over his knuckles. He smiled and instead of jumping with anxiety, my heart pitter-pattered in my chest with overwhelming love. So overwhelming I felt like I was going to choke on it, like whatever I was going to say would come out strangled and unintelligible. 

“Now I am,” I said, breaking away from his sparkling eyes to look up at the sky. It didn’t sparkle the same at home–there was too much light from the city and the brilliant, deep midnight blue that would be overhead at home was a dull wash. It was like the sky was beckoning for me to find the stars, to look harder, search longer, and finally, as I’d always wanted to, pluck one straight from between the whispered clouds and place it in Josh’s palm. 

Then I saw the moon, hidden behind those tendrils of clouds until another breeze brushed them away. Her brilliance remained the same–huge and cold, safe and comforting, her celestial presence gave me a familiar sense of belonging. I might not belong in this city–yet. I might not have a home that was just Josh’s and mine–yet. But I belonged in his arms, he belonged in mine, and we belonged to the entire universe no matter where we ended up. Our souls would always be up there, floating among the silver stars and whirling around the moon.

“Yeah,” I said, looking back at Josh, smiling; he smiled back and wrapped his arms around my waist, pressing our torsos together. I reached one hand up and brushed my fingers over his curls, down over the shell of his ears, landing to rest on his cheek. “I’m good. How are you, Starshine?”

“I’m brilliant,” Josh said, smiling bigger, white teeth gleaming. “Now that we’re finally here.”

He pressed a soft, sweet kiss to my lips, letting his mouth linger on mine for a few seconds, and I sighed. When he pulled back, his eyes turned upward too, tilting his head back to look at the sky–but this time, I didn’t search for missing stars or stare at the moon. I just stared at him. 

---

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[blogofloathing]

Taking a look under the bridge by the Seaside Institute of Technology, we find Victoria Martinez

A muddy clothed, dusty haired sweetheart. Noisily digging in the lake for anything edible,

or useful, times are tough these days, as she likes to say to herself, and anyone who'll listen.

which isn't many, she found that most people were not too keen on hearing the ramblings of a dirty homeless girl, no matter how important she thought they were, even less so in this scenery.

The bridge she had called home for the better part of a month wasn't anything to sneeze at,

Cause if you did it would probably fall right over.

Rusty and dusty, and musty too, she found the unintended rhyming somewhat amusing,

Throw a crusty in there too to complete the picture

This was where she spent her days, scrounging for things thrown over the side, or attempting to catch falling debris when it came, either way once it touched the ground it was fair game to her.

Though reckoning with the city's new regulations on littering, had proved to be quite grueling.

At midday already, skin tanning almond even in the spotty shade, she tossed back her overgrown mat, frizzy and unmanageable at the best of times, it was more of a scarf than anything resembling hair.

After a final once-over of the trash heap they called a river, she conceded in having found no purchase, turning halfway to yell "sorry Walter! nothin today!"

He was seated quite a ways away, leaned against a support beam, idly checking his fishing rod every couple of beats, incase a fish had chosen to pop in

And not wanting to waste his breath yelling back, her, in her words only, "bridge buddy" Walter, shoots a thumbs up and shrugs. As usual seeming only half aware of what she was saying.

Victoria guessed he probably had it better than her, being zoned out left the fisherman unable to worry about problems even they both faced.

However, unfortunately ignorance is only bliss for the ignorant, with the other left to play caretaker.

She didn't hold it against the mumbling goon, after all his fishing skills were half the reason the pair had even survived so long, and Victoria would be dammed if she took it for granted now.

Clumsily righting herself, she wiped off any gunk that stuck to her fingers or her already filthy pants,

and considered her equally filthy options, there weren't a lot, they seemed to draw further with each given day, as usual she was on a clock..

Maybe the lady at Fission Chips could give her a free meal again, though her "winning smile" was hampered a bit by having not had access to a toothbrush, or running water, for.. some time. But she made do. One way or another she would eat.

It was mainly a question of if she could still work her charms on a girl who could practically see the stink lines radiating off of her pockmarked skin.

.. or she could always, go back out on the streets, even in this current state of unhygeine, meat was meat, moxious flair didn't exactly matter when your customers are desperate enough to seek you out.

Victoria shuddered the thought, skin prickling at the unsavory prospect, no, that was a last resort..

Tremulous meal plans, were abruptly cut short by a hard *THWAP!* to rustle her birds nest. "Ow! Hey! What gives-" Victoria started with a shout,

and a hand on the now growing bump, quickly quieting as she realized who was standing there.

Simone Chekhov of the S.I.T Robotechtronics Department, stood just before her, looking displeased, though that didn't say much.

"Oh-hi-Simone-what's-up?" Victoria says way too fast, her tone gaining an uncharacteristicly soft lilt upon seeing her less than enthused friend.

With dark hair that seemed to shine, in two lofty pigtails tucked behind her freckled ears,

Victoria thought this sometimes made her look like a disappointed rabbit, much to her chagrin

Simone's expression is—to Victoria at least—fully inscrutable, a mixture of what she felt was pity, which annoyed her. Though one of care too, which also annoyed her, but on Simone she didn't mind.

Infact Victoria found a lot of things that usually soured her mood, did the opposite when it was her.

"You know it's against campus policy to fish in the lake right?" Simone says, partially just to tease her,

though her lingering glance in Walter's direction told Victoria her comment wasn't entirely in jest.

She spoke in a way that evoked a school teacher the day after a sub had to fill in, like Victoria was singled out, specifically mentioned in the note.

"Hey us hobos gotta make do ay?" She gave back, a feigned look of nonchalance. Simone didn't give this the dignity of a reply, but wore that expression of mild disdain that always left Victoria grinning like moron. "Well I'm feeling generous-"

Simone began before being immediately cut off "for little ol me? How thoughtful" hands on her chest, fluttering her eyes exaggeratedly. This girl-

Simone sighed and shook her head, though the smirk growing on her face was unmistakable. She may be a nuisance, but Simone loves a gal that can push her buttons. "Let's get you cleaned up girl."

She looked her taller companion up and down, the rips and messy patches made up her stature,

Somewhat wooden, which contrasted pleasantly with Simone's more full figured appearance.

Victorias clothes seemed to hang off of her thin frame, moreso resembling a coat hanger.

Not to mention that curly beast, all a greasy mess, she would have to find a way to get that girl into a bath somehow, despite hydrophobic tendencies

"you look like shit" and smell about as much too, though she only said that last little bit in her head.

"Oh and you were sniffing me hm?" She teased, marking the rainfall of red splotches on the other girls face, "I- I don't need to! Its in the damn air!"

Glasses now acrooked, she sighed blearily before adjusting them back to normal, "frankly I'm kinda considering not letting you come back to my-"

"I get to come over?!" A comical expression of jubilation careening right into her with a crash.

Entirely missing Simone's attempt at a threat, "well, not with that attit-" she retried in vain.

But without allowing her to continue, Victoria had jumped up excitedly, almost too quick as to stumble over into a heap.

finding uneasy equilibrium, she clumsily put out an arm over her good shoulder.

Chanting "Simone's house! Simone's house! She has running water and food! Hurrah! Hurrah!" Simone giggled and sighed affectionately, this girl..

•••

"Soooooo" Victoria trailed, in a way that Simone had come to learn means "please feed me"

"Oh I dunnooo," she moseyed with a smirk, "maybe if a girl will agree to a baaath" her sly grin intimating how reluctant the intense girl usually is for the suggestion, mirroring Victorias grimace.

Telling tales of the many such ultimatums she'd faced, in an apparent never ending battle against proper bathing,

Like a puppy with a treat dangling above its nose she followed.

Simone would feed her anyway, she just loved to play this game, and clearly Victoria did too.

The gears turned and clicked noisily in her head, something in that coconut was lighting up.

She could almost make out a bushy tail wagging.

"Dahhhh.. okay! I'll do it!" She shouted, "but ya better take me out for some Fission Chips!"

This seemed a fair trade, the bespectacled girl nodded quietly, "and let's bring Walter too!"

The sudden expletion freezing Simone straight in her tracks, like running headlong smack into a brick wall, she was praying this wouldn't happen.

Absolutely not, no way, not even for a moment desperately fevered internally, but out loud she said "sounds funnnn" while looking opposite her.

Seemingly incapable of understanding hints, the muddy girl howled "woo woo! Cmon Walter get your ass over here!" Practically pulling him over to the duo with an invisible stage hook.

are you kidding me? Once again only spoken as thoughts, she wanted to like Walter really but, he was like if Victoria had been squared.

And even one was far too much Victoria for her.

The equally dirt splotched fisherman hobbled over to the group, "howdy pals! I'm excited to-"

Screeching to a slow halt at the dark look on her face, "join y'all for lunch.." nervously chuckling.

"And we're happy to have you Walt!" A genuine joy bleeding off in obvious globs of serenity, unlike Simone's begrudging glare through him.

Beating back at the fire emanating from her pale skinned companion, Victoria nabbed both in a shoulder to shoulder.

"Let's hang out at Simmy's house and then it's free food time!!" Shouting that last part in a mock announcers voice.

"Alright.." she shuddered in an icy tone, "but I better not see any shoes tracking shit inside"

Eyeing Walter's flip flops, which were more flip than flop, and Victoria's.. sneakers

Caked in so many miscellaneous memories that they hardly resembled footwear at all.

"Lookin to catch a peek? Oo Simone you freak-" "Ahg- Not like that!!" She shouted without even giving me a chance to describe Victorias dialogue

Holding both hands up in a mock gesture of disarming, though glancing a smirk at Walter.

Which was reciprocated, at the expense of another smack to Victoria's surely traumatized skull.

The trio walked arm in arm, laughing and smiling, this is good Simone shyly thought, this is nice.

And it's a dorm not a house, you dummy, momentarily souring her otherwise blissful mood.