#he doesn’t snap out of it until he hears the most beautiful voice call out his name. you greet him shyly and he doesn’t miss how your hand

[neoyuno]

What if I wrote more of idol!wonwoo x producer!reader from the “no biting” universe? :o read tags for my idea ♥︎

[five-and-dimes]

I have no idea where this came from but I’m never going to turn it into a full fic so I’m releasing it into the void.

Dream is some sort of fae creature whose son died, so he sneaks into a mortal village and kidnaps a young boy around the same age his son was.

(Part of his heart hurts because he never took part in the traditional changeling child/fae kidnapping thing because he couldn’t bear to leave his son with some stranger, he loved him too much, and he knows deep down he shouldn’t do this to someone else but he’s desperate for something, anything, to dull the pain of his loss).

When single dad Hob wakes up and finds his son Robyn missing, he’s fully prepared to go scorched earth to find him. When it becomes clear he’s not in the village, he going charging alone into the woods, too impatient to put a party together to help him. (He’s terrified- he’s heard rumors of fae in these parts, but there was no child left behind. What could have taken his little boy?)

After a few days searching, he hears Robyn’s voice up ahead. He’s got a sword at his side, but for now he draws a bow and arrow, moving forward slowly. Eventually he comes to a clearing, peeking forward and preparing to shoot down whatever took his child. But then. He pauses. 

Robyn is smiling, and laughing, and has an abundance of flowers adorning his hair. He is plucking some berries from a bush and popping them into his mouth under the guidance of the most beautiful creature Hob’s ever seen. As he listens, he realizes that Robyn is talking about him, telling stories of how his papa taught him to identify the things that are safe to eat in the forest, and how tall he feels when he sits on his father’s shoulders, and how his papa has a terrible singing voice but sings the loudest anyway and so Robyn loves it. 

“I think papa will like you lots!” Robyn declares, and the creature smiles sadly.

“I… doubt that… but he sounds lovely.”

Hob is so confused by the whole situation that he doesn’t notice he’s taken a step forward until a branch snaps under his foot. Robyn looks over and immediately bursts into a wide smile, even as the creature lets out a panicked series of chirps and bolts in the other direction.

“Papa!!” 

Robyn throws himself into his father’s arms, and Hob drops his weapons to hold him, beyond relieved to have his son safe in his arms, unharmed. He spends a few minutes just peppering his son’s face with kisses and telling him how worried he was before finally looking at the spot where the creature had disappeared into the woods. Robyn follows his gaze, smiling and tugging on Hob’s hand to guide him into the clearing as he calls out.

“It’s okay, Dream! Papa is super nice to everyone, you don’t have to hide!”

Hob’s sees two bright eyes in the shadows before the creature- Dream- hesitantly steps forward. He looks sad and scared and ashamed and Hob is smitten almost immediately.

Robyn explains that when he woke up he had been scared, but Dream had hugged him (almost as good as his papa’s hugs, he claims) and told him he would keep him safe and take care of him. Then Robyn had been sad because he already missed his dad, and when he told Dream about him he had immediately realized the error of what he had done and resolved to return Robyn. It had taken some time because Robyn had insisted he was too big to be carried (it’s one thing if he was sleeping, but he was a big boy he could walk home just fine, really!) so they had traveled together, Dream never feeding him anything that would bind Robyn to him, instead just pointing out food and water for him to gather himself. 

Dream is still standing a bit aways from them both as Robyn tells the tale, looking at the little boy with aching fondness.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly to Hob, “I just... miss my son so much,” he smiles weakly at Robyn, “I believe you and Orpheus would have been great friends.”

And oh, Hob gets it all of a sudden. He had been fully prepared to do all sorts of questionable things to get his son back, he can’t imagine what he might be compelled to do if he actually lost him. And Dream was bringing him back, so he finds it very easy to forgive him.

He finds it even easier to invite Dream to finish the journey back with them, and then invite him to stay, and then invite him to build a home in the woods together, and share kisses and a bed and a life. 

Robyn is very smug.

He told Dream his dad would like him.

[wannab-urs]

Title: Crawling Back to You

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader

Summary: After some particularly awful shit goes down, Javi distances himself from you. But he always comes crawling back. 

Tags: Angst, smut, more angst, reference to s2e3 events w Carillo, Javi sleeps with Gabriela (that’s the one from S2E3 y’all), sad!Javi, self hating!Javi, references to blood, wounds, rot, etc, all metaphorical, drinking/alcohol, as always: excessive cursing, me trying to speak spanish (translations provided), arguing, manhandling, dry humping, fingering, oral f receiving, face riding but while lying down, hair pulling, actual riding, Javi very briefly picks you up, that one position from s1e2, unprotected PiV, creampie, Javi crying, Javi yelling, reader yelling, did I mention angst? WC: 2130

A/N: I'm sorry? And thanks to the HBH for beta reading <3

Series Masterlist | Javier Peña Masterlist | Main Masterlist | AO3 | Kofi

Crawling back to you Ever thought of calling when you've had a few? 'Cause I always do

Javi has avoided you for two weeks now. He got himself involved in some truly fucked up shit with Carillo and couldn’t bear to face you after that. He couldn’t let you see him like that – completely ashamed of himself, broken. He went to Gabriela instead. He knew she wouldn’t ask too many questions, that she would let him take out his anger and helplessness and shame on her. 

When he got home that night he still almost called you, just to hear your voice. You calm something inside him, something dark and violent. But it feels like a sin to expose you to it in the first place. He’s terrified of letting you in. Sure, he’s afraid of getting hurt. Afraid of giving his heart to you and possibly watching you crush it in your hands. But what he’s really scared of is letting you get close enough to see the blood in his teeth, to smell the rot in his chest. Afraid his darkness will infect you, ruin the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on. He is a bad man and you are so so good. You deserve better than him.

And yet he can’t truly let you go. Just another reason he doesn’t deserve you. He’s selfish enough to keep going back to you, to keep knocking on your apartment door and burying his pain in your body, only to tuck tail and run the second you push him for more. Most selfish of all is how much he wants more with you. Wants to come home to you every day. To cook dinner with you, to share a bed with you, to share his life with you. He wants everything you want and more and he’s terrified and horrified at the prospect. 

You haven’t called him. Maybe you finally listened to him. Finally accepted he’s not what you want or need. Do you think about calling him? Maybe after a bottle of wine, listening to your maudlin records and relaxing on your couch. Do you drink yourself into a stupor before you can make that mistake like he does? 

He dreams about you, about your body wrapped tightly around his, your nails dragging down his back so sharply it snaps him awake. He finds his whiskey glass turned over and spilled on his couch. His back aches from falling asleep sitting up. He eyes the phone. 

Fuck calling. 

Javi stares at the brass numbers on your apartment door. What the fuck is he doing here? He just can’t leave well enough alone. He pounds on the door until you answer. 

“No.” You slam the door closed. 

He bangs on the door again, fist pausing mid-air as the door swings open. 

“You can’t just come crawling back to me when you get tired of your whores, Javi.” You look beautiful. Standing in your doorway in one of his t-shirts and a pair of panties. Righteous anger puts a fire in your eyes, gives a hard set to your jaw.  

“No es así y tú lo sabes.” (It’s not like that and you know it).” Javi steps closer to you, you don’t step back. “Me haces falta. (I miss you). Let me in.” 

“Oh you fucking miss me? It’s been two weeks. Y no llamaste. (and you didn’t call).” You didn’t call him either, but that’s not the point. You didn’t show up at his apartment.

“Sé, lo siento. (I know, I’m sorry).”

“No. No lo eres. Déjame en paz.” (No. You’re not. Leave me alone.).  

“No puedo. You know I can’t.” Javi looks defeated, run down. You know he needs you. Despite the advice of everyone you know and your own better judgment, you step aside and let him in. “Gracias, cariño.” And he sounds so relieved, you almost feel bad for keeping him out, for not calling him. Almost. 

He closes the door behind him and you stalk off to the kitchen, still not quite ready to face him. You pour yourself a glass of whiskey and shoot it, wincing a little at the burn, before grabbing another glass and pouring one for each of you. You set both on the coffee table and sit on the couch, folding your legs beneath you. 

“Why are you here, Javi?” He’d asked himself as much.

He picks his glass up off the table and sits on the couch next to you. You watch his adam’s apple bob as he swallows. “I need you. I don’t know what else you want me to say.” 

“Start with why you disappeared.”

“Classified.”

“Bullshit.”

Javi sets his glass down and manhandles you into his lap. He crashes his mouth into yours and at first you don’t even respond to his touch, but it doesn’t take long to fall into him. You can’t deny that you’ve been miserable without him. Craving his touch, missing him so much it hurts. He’s like an itch you can never scratch enough to satisfy. A festering wound that won’t ever heal. So you may as well pick at the scab. 

Javi pulls your crotch flush with his. He’s already hard against you. You bury your hands in his too-long hair where it curls at the nape and lose yourself in him. You grind down on him and he thrusts up against you, the denim of his jeans and hard line of his cock creating delicious friction even through your panties. 

He breaks the kiss, dragging his lips up your jaw, and whispers in your ear, “Can you come for me like this?” You don’t answer him, simply grind down on him harder, faster, nearly rubbing your thighs raw on his jeans. He peels his t-shirt off your body, throws it behind the couch, and immediately sucks a nipple between his plush lips. He bites down and it sends a jolt straight through your core. 

“Fuck, Javi. More, baby. More,” you whine. He grabs your hips and drags you along his clothed length hard and fast. You feel your core tighten around nothing, and a keening moan falls from your lips as you come. 

You don’t even have time to catch your breath before he’s thrown you onto the couch. He drags your ruined underwear down your legs, tossing them over his shoulder, and buries his face between your thighs. He sucks your clit into his mouth and pushes two fingers inside you, pumping slowly and rolling your clit gently between his teeth. 

You arch up into him, and instead of pinning you down like he often does, he lets you grind your pussy on his face. The hard ridge of his nose, the rough drag of his mustache, the plush softness of his lips, so many different sensations hitting you as his fingers plunge into your cunt, curling into your g-spot over and over. It’s completely and utterly overwhelming. You fist his hair and hold him tight to you as you ride his face, and he moans into your cunt. He fucking loves it when you let go like this, unabashed moans filling the room, probably filling the whole apartment complex. 

You fall apart again, like this, hips stuttering to a stop as you squeeze his fingers so hard it almost hurts. Javi peers up at your blissed out face, the rapid rise and fall of your chest, takes in just how beautiful you are. He drags his tongue through your slick one more time before hovering over you and licking into your mouth. 

You suck your own slick off his tongue, licking into his mouth as you feel him shove his jeans down enough to free his cock. He pulls back, sits on the couch and drags you into his lap. You straddle him and he helps you line up before grabbing your hips and pulling you down on him. 

You collapse forward, the feeling of him inside you is like being split apart and it would probably hurt if you weren’t so wet. He grabs your hair and pulls backward until your back is arched. “Montarme, cariño.” (Ride me, baby). You start moving your hips, slowly picking up in speed until you’re bouncing on his cock so hard and fast you can barely catch your breath.

He hitches your thighs around his waist and wraps his arm around your back, dropping you on the couch. He shoves his jeans down, stepping out of them, and drops one knee to the couch. He pulls you into his lap, wrapping your legs around his hips. You cling to his shoulders with your left arm and drop your other one behind you for leverage, rolling your hips into his. He meets you with his own thrusts, holding your body to his and burying his face in the crook of your neck. 

He’s so close, you’re so tangled up in each other, he’s so fucking deep inside you, barely even pulling out before rolling back up into you. You fall back onto the couch and he follows, still holding you in his arms as he fucks you. Your orgasm hits you like a wave, rolling over your body and giving you chills as your cunt flutters around his cock. 

He comes with you, fully collapsing down onto you. You should feel crushed under his weight, but it’s comforting. He holds you so tightly it’s like he’s afraid to let go of you. Afraid that when this moment is over you’ll kick him out and he’ll be alone again. Afraid this is the last time he’ll ever get to touch you. 

You pet his hair gently, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. It’s late. You’re so fucked out you feel high and maybe the whiskey is loosening your tongue a little.  

“I don’t understand, Javi. If it feels like this, why won’t you love me? What more could you want from me? What am I missing that you need?” This is going to ruin everything.

Javi pushes up on his elbows to look you in the eye. “Cariño. It’s not you–” 

“I swear to God, Javi, if you use that line on me I will burn your apartment down with you in it.” 

“You don’t understand. You won’t understand. I’m not good. I’m only going to get you hurt or killed.” 

“You already are hurting me, Javi,” you wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him back down to you. 

He’s silent for a long time before he half whispers into your shoulder, “I’m just so afraid.” His voice breaks and you feel a tear land on your skin. You stroke his hair, drag your fingers along his heated skin. 

“I know you, Javi. I know who you are and I don’t care. I think about you all the time. All the fucking time. I can’t stop thinking about you no matter how hard I fucking try. It’s torture.” 

Javi shoves himself away from you, standing and grabbing his jeans off the floor.“That’s my fucking point!” You flinch at his volume. He pulls his jeans on, grabs his boots and crams his feet into them, already heading to the door. He turns around. “I am only ever going to hurt you. I am a bad fucking person. I hurt people on purpose and you are not immune from that just because I care about you or because I love you.”  

You stand and try to take his face in your hands but he grabs your arms and holds you away from him. “I’d let you crack open my chest, rib by rib, while I watched if it meant I could have you. If it meant you’d be mine. Stop running away from me! I’m begging you!” You’re sobbing, yelling, pleading with him to just listen. 

Javi looks at you, brow furrowed, big brown eyes shiny and bloodshot with tears. He lets go of you and steps away slowly, putting distance between the two of you. His mouth opens as if he’s going to say something, but he doesn’t. He drops his head and closes his eyes, takes a shaky breath, and walks out the door.

He knows he will come crawling back to you, tomorrow or a week from now, he can’t ever stay away. But maybe this time the wound will be too raw. He will have hurt you too much, and you will shut him out. He fucking hates it, hates the thought of being without you, hates the way it feels like he’s clawing out his own organs hurting you like this. But this hurt is so much less than what he would do to you given enough time. This wound will scab over, form an angry scar, he will have left his mark on you. But you will heal. 

dividers by @saradika

[sink-me-in-your-ocean]

The Light Over the Darkness

Lucifer Morningstar x Lilith!fem!reader

WC: ~5300

A/N: @endhisbloodlineinmyesophagus thank you for reading this first. And no thank you for getting me obsessed with a new fictional idiot.

Content warnings: fingering, p in v sex, unprotected sex, praise kink (if you squint and tilt your head). 18+ only. Minors DNI.

NSFW below the cut.

It is a gorgeous day in the Garden. Though, every day is a gorgeous day. Every single day is perfect beyond comparison. It would be even better if your companion did not exist. 

You went off on your own again, wholly unwilling to submit to Adam’s irritating daily routine of assigning uninspiring names to all of the things and creatures. Or - even worse - the non-routine version of simply lounging about lazily. This was your only course of action. You wandered far off into the Garden, and just as daylight began to break over the horizon, a sound caressed your ear in the lightest touch.

In the distance, you heard a voice. It sang a melancholy tune so far from the triumphant trumpet sound of heavenly melody you’d heard before. It was like a dream.

No, not a dream. This was a voice emitting an enticing tune you couldn’t resist. It called to you, pulled your very heartstrings. Your brows knit together in concern. 

You must find this beautifully tragic voice.

You strolled further through the Garden, clinging close to an idle river. As the voice drew closer, you stepped along a fallen tree that cast itself as a bridge over the river. You made it across and walked into the line of trees posing as guard to what lies beyond. Past several rows of thick trees there was a clearing, open and spacious, and filled with wildflowers. 

Wildflowers and the most beautiful creature you had ever seen. 

-

Lucifer was lonely, although not any more lonely than he had felt in Heaven. His brothers and sisters never accepted his way of thinking and there was no chance of him and his Father ever seeing eye to eye. 

He had purposefully gone to a most remote corner of the Garden, knowing his father would do something drastic again if he found him interacting with his two perfect human pets. 

Lucifer sighed, closing his eyes and singing how he felt. The agony in his chest flowed out and he felt slightly better. He figured that was as good as it would ever get. 

Until he turned over his shoulder upon hearing a snap of a twig, and he saw her.

-

The being attached to the - now silent - voice turned towards you and your breath caught in your chest. His face was beautiful, pale as the brightest cloud in the sky, with eyes that shone golden like the sun. His hair was the color of the very light itself, gorgeous and silken. 

He wore strange, white billowing coverings, and something nagged in the back of your head at the lack of your own cover. 

“Are you alright?” You chastised yourself for the tremor in your voice, but you couldn’t help it, your communication skills were lacking. Adam wasn’t a conversationalist in the slightest and the times you did speak to him left much to be desired. 

“No, no I-I’m not.” 

“What happened?” Your gaze snagged on the red pigment on his back, his covering gaped open - torn and bloody. You started approaching him before realizing you were moving, then you stalled out of apprehension.

“I was evicted from my place in Heaven. I am… I was… an angel. Now I’m here in the Garden, though I surmise I’ll do something to get myself kicked out of here before long too.” You had never known someone to sound so utterly defeated and broken.

You walked further towards the angel. “The blood. You’re hurt.” You shook your head, realizing you were quite literally just stating the obvious.

“Oh, this?” He gestured to his back and you nodded, continuing to draw nearer. “He took my wings. I can’t ever go home without them.” His eyes met yours, and concern colored his expression, “But don’t worry about me, the bleeding stopped, and it doesn’t hurt anymore. Well, at least not physically.”

The pity you felt for the creature grabbed your heart, wrenching it tightly within its grasp. You were about a handful of steps away from him now, and you stopped, leaving him his space as you changed the subject. Continuing to ask him personal questions felt too intimate and wrong. “Your song, it sounded beautiful.”

The sigh he let out was almost musical, “I was simply expelling the ache from my chest.”

“I see.” Your expression softened. “If you ever sang when you were joyful, I suppose it could move the very mountains.”

His demeanor changed, he tried to hide it by looking down, but you saw the smile on his face. He shook his head and raised a brow at you, “Aren’t you supposed to be, I don’t know, with a certain someone?”

“Who, Adam?” Your accompanying laugh was breathy and uncomfortable, “No, he, uh,” your tongue temporarily tangled itself, “he’s the worst.” The last three words were an admission of guilt, coming out like a tiny whisper.

His eyes widened exponentially. “He’s the worst?” He began to cross the last bit of distance between the two of you, ending up a step away. 

“The worst.” You reply, feeling a weight lifting off your chest with the confession.

“Hm.” There was a glint in his eye, something was inside him waiting to get out, you could sense it. “Would you like to spend your time with me today?”

The question left you temporarily silent, then you composed yourself.

“With a fallen angel?” You paused in faux contemplation, he watched you closely, his eyes begging for an answer, “Yes.”

Relief covered his face, “Take my hand.” 

“Okay.”

He led you through the flower field and back to the edge of the river you had crossed. He walked with you at a leisurely pace as the river carried along beside you, flowing downstream. 

The water rushed louder and louder as you continued down its serpentine path, and soon there was a drop off. Mist curled up from the edge and you followed the flow of water with your gaze. 

A glorious waterfall cascaded down the cliff side. Luscious greenery and florals edged the water - a soft border contrasting the roaring of water.

The spray of water made a strange coloring appear seemingly out of thin air.

“A rainbow.” He offered in explanation, following your line of sight.

You looked at him, the happiness that filled your soul at that very moment overshadowed anything you had previously felt in your life thus far. Even the day you discovered the taste of ripe peaches.

His smile was brighter than the morning sun cresting the horizon. It was warmer than the sun too, you felt it skin deep. 

The rest of the day continued in a similar fashion, with him guiding you to new sights and sounds and life. It excited you, enticed you. It made you feel almost like light itself, like you were glowing in his presence.

-

You returned to Adam that night, for no other reason than you felt that was what you were supposed to do. As Adam fell asleep nearby, your thoughts were on Lucifer. His beauty, his ethereal grace. He captivated you with a mere look and you were helpless to resist his complete charm.

When he had spoken of the heavens, you were left with one question: Why?

Why would his brothers and sisters not stand by his side?

One final realization permeated your thoughts and settled in an ache within your heart as you succumbed to rest: How lonely it must be for him. A former angel. Now cursed to walk in the Garden without anyone like him. Doomed to be without his family for… forever.

A single tear slid silently down the side of your face as you stared up at the stars from your place on the cool ground. You didn’t know how long it took you to fall asleep that night, but once it took you, you were deep under.

You heard his voice in your dreams that night.

-

The next day you rose before dawn as you always did, though this time with a fuel hurtling you along you had never felt before. A giddiness tingled in your fingers and toes with every step as you retraced your steps from yesterday.

Days, then weeks passed in a manner just as your first day of meeting the fallen angel, sans the melancholy of his newly fallen status as he accustomed to life in the Garden.

His life with you. 

He never brought up Adam again, not since your first meeting. In consideration, you didn't bring up his Father to him. It was an unspoken truce.

Lucifer took you everywhere you had not seen before, and he frequently hummed and fabricated sweet, alluring songs throughout the days. New creatures, new flowers and fruits of the trees. New feelings as well. Though that you figured was caused only by yourself, and you pushed it down, listening to him tell you about creation.

“He said, ‘Let there be light’ and I was here.” He paused, “Well, not here in the Garden here, but here. Alive. Existing.”

“So, you just floated up there somewhere?”

“Yes and no. It’s hard to explain. It feels impossible, actually.”

“If anyone can think of the words so eloquent as to describe something, it’s you, Lucifer.”

A pink color tinged his cheeks, and he looked down at the grass tangled beneath his feet. “You’ve got to stop saying things like that.”

“Have I made an offense? Oh, Lucifer, I only meant that you would be the most capable person to describe something so beautiful. You’re so beautiful so it must come easily to you to describe the beauty around you.”

His gaze timidly met yours. “You… you think I’m… beautiful?”

You felt compelled to say more than just a ‘yes’. “Of course. Lucifer, you’re the most beautiful thing that I have ever seen, or could ever dream of imagining.”

His cheeks reddened more. His golden eyes softened in a way that told you he had been waiting to hear those words for an eternity.

“Lucifer?” You took a shy step towards him.

“Yes?” He finally met your eyes fully, but took a step back until he was firmly against the bark of a willow tree.

You continued forward, propelled by a pull within your chest, until you were toe to toe with him. “Can I…” You searched his face. His soft, sweet face. “Can I do something?”

A slight smile lit up his face, brightening the space even under the dimmed canopy of the willow. His voice came out as a whisper. “Anything.”

Your hand brushed the light hair that had fallen between his eyes to the side. Your other hand touched his jaw, tracing along to the underside of his chin and tilting his face up. You angled your face slightly downward, eyes still locked on his, and leaned in. Then, you closed your eyes, letting your instinct guide you the last bit further.

Your lips met in a gentle kiss.

His apprehension and yours melted into the softness of the touch you shared. You pulled back for just a second, searching his face for reassurance. He responded by kissing you back, over and over and over again. His hands went to your face, as though he didn’t want to be apart from you for even a moment. 

Your fingers entwined themselves in his silken hair and he did the same with yours.

The two of you didn’t part from each other’s hold until the sun had almost slipped away completely. 

You barely had time to bathe in the stream before night fell around you. You missed his light.

-

The rest of the evening, even feeling the comfort of the fire made by Adam, you closed your eyes and your thoughts belonged to Lucifer. You watched Adam pass out unceremoniously and touched your fingers to your lips. The memory held there still tingled.

You felt something powerful surge within your middle. It was a deep hunger. An ache as sharp as a burr or a thorn. It dug into you, pulling and twisting within you. A thirst that could not be quenched by even the coldest stream water. 

An urge within you begged to return to Lucifer tonight, but you knew you couldn’t. You needed to wait.

Wait and see.

See if he felt the same way when the sun gleamed upon you tomorrow.

-

The instant you saw Lucifer the next day, warmth traveled from your head to your toes.

You smiled at him and he beamed at you, holding out his hand for you to take. Your fingers intermingled with his and you let him lead you to a part of the Garden you hadn’t been to yet. The grass began to fade into dirt and small pebbles, as though this part of the world had been forgotten by the green. 

“Where are you taking me?” 

Lucifer reassured you with a grin, “To see something I discovered last night. It’s not much further.”

He led you to a cave entrance. It greeted you with open jaws, its mouth stretching far and wide, ingesting the light with a neverending pitch darkness. 

You froze, your feet rooting themselves to the ground. You dropped his hand, placing your palm over your heart. “Lucifer, it’s dark in there. We’re not going inside, are we?”

He gave you one of those brighter-than-the-sun smiles again. “Don’t worry, we won’t be going far. It’ll be much lighter inside, I promise.”

You couldn’t so easily wipe the unsure expression from your face. He noticed.

“Take my hand. Please?” Lucifer extended his left hand to you. As you took it, the air around you cooled, bringing goosebumps to your arms, and you had a feeling that something was about to change.

You allowed him to lead you inside. The nervousness you had felt seemed to melt away with his soft hand enveloping yours. Once you were past the cave mouth, the darkness swallowed him and then you. You grounded yourself in the sounds of his feet and yours along the cave floor, which was covered with soft dirt and devoid of any sharp rocks.  

“Lucifer?” The trepidation came flooding back as soon as his hand left yours. You quavered and the darkness drowned out your voice. “Lucifer?”

“This way, my dear.” His voice offered you a beacon of hope in the black void of the space. You thought you heard him lightly chuckle, the sound beckoning you, guiding you onward without form or shape. 

Suddenly you saw a blue-green light. You approached it just as it faded out, leaving you in complete darkness again.

Your foot nudged something soft, then your other foot stepped into a puddle that glowed around your toes as the water rippled. You squinted and the color faded away once more.

A bright light made you wince, almost uncomfortably. Your hand covered your face to act as a shield. 

“Here.” You heard Lucifer speak close by, and as your eyes adjusted, you realized he held a ball of warm, yellow light in his hand. You also realized that the soft thing laying next to your foot was his rumpled white covering. 

Your mouth went dry at the sight of him. A tension wound its way into your chest. His pale shoulders, his trim waist, his… 

“Watch this.” He said, lifting his palm up and the ball of light suspended itself in the air. Lucifer created another ball of light, then another, warming the cavern with soft light. When he was finished, he grinned at you, “Are you ready to see what I found?”

“Wait, that wasn’t what you wanted to show me? That was - I, I have no words, you just - you just made light with your hands.” The startlingly impressive feat had you staggering between words.

That satisfied smirk of his was enough to silence the entire world and every question in your mind. He shook his head from side to side. You could barely believe it, he had even more to show you. There was nothing left to say, so you answered his question with a resounding, “Yes.”

“Watch me.”

As if you could do anything else. You couldn’t take your eyes off him, you were entranced as you watched him step into the pool of water which you realized, connected to the puddle you were standing with one foot in already. It was shallow at this end and he waded further out.

A light blueish-greenish color swished with his every movement in the water. Lucifer paused, waist deep in the water. A sharp exhale ghosted between your lips as you tried not to focus on the small of his back. The color went away when he stood still, but came back when he dipped his hand in, bringing it under the water and then to the surface, letting the water drip down from his fingers and open palm.

You didn’t know if it was intrigue or the allure of Lucifer that guided you further forward, to be ankle-deep in the water, but you divert your attention to watching the color grow and fade around your feet. “Lucifer, what is that?”

“It’s bioluminescence.” He replied, and sunk down into the pool, his body now mostly shielded underneath the water.

“What is bioluminescence?”

He turned towards you with a look that said ‘I’m so glad you asked’, and explained in great detail what it is.

Your eyes were wide as you listened to him speak. Sure as it did before, the water sparkled to life within the ripple you made, with blue shimmering below your feet as you stepped in, the water encircling your ankles. You couldn’t help the contented smile that made its way onto your face. You also couldn't help but move closer to him, going back and forth between watching the colors fan out from around your calves, then knees, then thighs, and watching his mesmerizing expression as he shared his knowledge with you.

You stood next to him, where he sat with his head and shoulders well above the water, and you couldn’t resist touching him. Gingerly, your fingers brushed through his hair, bringing it out of his golden eyes again. He looked up at you as you spoke, “Lucifer, thank you for bringing me here. For sharing this with me.”

Even in the dim light, you could see his face turn the color of a rose, his expression becoming timid suddenly. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because you’re divine when you teach me new things.” You answered honestly, you didn’t know any better.

His eyes softened. “Will you join me? Please?”

“Yes.” You took his offered hand. The gesture was innocent - he was bracing you as you fully got in the water - but it made you feel a way that you couldn't name yet.

His hold on your hand tightened slightly and his other hand slid up your thigh as you lowered yourself in. 

The two of you settled in the water, the blue fading out at the surface which sat at about mid-chest level. 

You slowly moved your hands through the glowing water, when you broke the surface tension the glow ran in rivulets down your fingers and forearms. You repeated the action, mesmerized by the incredible color. Then, you flicked the surface of the water, sending a splash in Lucifer’s direction. 

“Hey!” He exclaimed, returning fire by sending a tiny splash your way. “You’ll get my hair wet!”

“Oh sweet and wondrous Lucifer, I’d hate to ruin your majestic hair.” Your tone was saccharinely sardonic. You sent another splash of water his way. 

“Stop that.” His gaze changed as he spoke. Something dark hid beneath his surface, and you wanted to find out what it was.

“Why?” You playfully splashed at him again, your body succumbing finally to the warm temperature of the water, relaxing in its embrace.

“When you do things like that, it makes me want to kiss you again.” His gaze drifted downward.

“When I do what, exactly?” You crawled towards him, to the shallower area. “Tease you? Or when I tell you how perfect you are?”

He just nodded, biting his lower lip. You knew it was in response to your praise. “May I kiss you again?” His words were soft, contrasted by the heat of his stare. He looked at your lips with a hunger that dwarfed the pangs you felt before a meal. This was a predatory gaze, but you gave in nonetheless.

Absolute certainly colored your voice. “Yes.”

With your permission, he leaned in, brushing a strand of hair away from your face with a gentleness that rivaled a feather’s touch. You stayed stock still as he closed his eyes and pressed his lips ever so softly to yours. 

Lucifer pulled back slightly, and upon seeing your eyes still open, a question formed in his expression. He didn’t get to ask it before your lips were back on his. 

You kissed him like you needed him more than breath in your lungs. Your whole body felt ignited by the action. You kissed him over and over, planting close-mouthed to open-mouthed kisses to his soft lips.

The kiss continued to deepen from there, and soon you were tasting him with your tongue. Your tongue led an exploration inside his mouth that made your head feel light and airy. His taste was intoxicating. And he was just as committed to discovering your mouth with his tongue in an even give and take.

Lucifer was the forbidden fruit, and you were too weak a woman to resist. 

You were temptation incarnate, and he was too prideful to concede. Not when he had come this far. Not when he had already lost so much. He needed you more than anything. 

You opened your eyes to be greeted by a comfortable darkness surrounding the two of you. “Lucifer? Your lights, they’re not glowing anymore.” Though this time, you were no longer afraid. The blueish shimmering in the water was brighter without the yellow lights. It was enough for you to see the shape of his jaw, the curve of his lips, the sparkle in his devilish eyes. 

“I’m sorry, I guess I forgot about them when I was kissing you.” A tremulous breath left his lungs. “I could forget about the entire universe when I kiss you.”

“Then kiss me again.” The demand spoke itself before you could even think.

With the way he responded, you would have assumed he never intended to ask your permission. His kiss stole the breath from you, stole the thoughts from your mind. Every press of his lips to yours, every stroke of his tongue to yours, was shatteringly delicious. You could think of nothing except him. Him and a previously unknown need rapidly surfacing.

“Lucifer.” You felt a change happening in your body, a fire that started from the kindling of his kiss. Almost weightless in the water, your hands clung to his shoulders as you crawled into his lap and he sat back to welcome you. Your legs were bent on either side of him, your knees resting in the soft silt of the shallow pool.  

You lowered yourself down to sit in his lap and almost moved back, jolted by his body’s reaction to yours. Something hard and thick pressed against your middle. 

He pulled back, breaking a particularly heady kiss to offer an explanation you didn’t ask for. “This is how you make me feel.”

You understood. In that moment, your base instincts took over. His feeling was evident on the outside, while yours was purely internal. 

At least, you thought your reaction to him was all internal, until he moved his hand from your waist. His hand moved slowly around the swell of your bottom to where your leg met your center. 

“Lucifer,” you jerked slightly, nibbling his bottom lip, “that tickles.”

“I mean to please, not to tickle you, my sweet.”

You were about to ask him what he meant when his long fingers swiped along your center. A sound escaped your lips that sounded animalistic, almost a whine.

“I truly mean to please you.” He pressed a chaste kiss to your lips. “Tell me if you want me to stop at any time.”

You shifted in his hold, seeking his delectable fingers again. When you spoke your voice was low and demanding, “You’ve already stopped, and I want to feel that again.”

“Yes, my lady.” He nodded his head in reverence to you and his fingers found your center again. He parted your folds, rubbing the length of his fingers along your slit before brushing them against a part of you that sent a shockwave to your spine. 

You jolted this time slightly, your eyebrows pulling upward in surprise at the foreign feeling.

He noted your reaction. “If you need me to slow down I will.”

“Don’t you dare.” Your lips found his again, the blueish glow of the water sloshing up between the two of you as you sought to be closer to him. You slightly rose back up on your knees to give him better access to your intimate flesh. 

Lucifer continued his ministrations. He was only too happy to take advantage of your position. His fingers caressing your sex made you whine again. Then, he pressed one finger inside of you and you inhaled in a ragged gasp. 

“Is this okay?” You barely registered his words as he languidly pumped his finger inside of you. 

You nodded, delighting in the sensation his finger was providing, and delighting in him. Once you were used to the feeling you whispered, “More.”

He pressed a second finger inside you. Your body temporarily shuddered as it adapted to the intrusion. 

You felt an ache eclipse your body, deep inside you, and your instincts told you you needed to be closer to him. In a way that two people could be joined together. His fingers continued to stroke you and he kissed you deeply again, tasting you, cherishing you.

“Lucifer,” you pulled back, lightheaded, a pleasurable feeling was building in your middle, but you needed more. “I -”

Your words failed you as he removed his fingers. You were about to protest when you felt his hardness between your legs. Your center was throbbing with need, and you felt fevered and frenzied without him. Your body craved him.

“I need you inside me, Lucifer.” You wiggled your hips, sloppily kissing his neck and up to his earlobe.

“Are you sure?” His voice was so dark and low. 

“Yes.” Holding to his shoulders, you dragged your wet center along his length to punctuate your answer.

“How could I possibly resist you?” Lucifer’s expression was that of a man starved, and you were certain he meant to devour you. “Eyes on me, I want to see those beautiful eyes of yours as we do this.”

You obey him as you feel his hand reach between the two of you. Then you felt the tip of him. Right there. Right against your core. Just the tiniest movement and he would be inside you.

Greedily, you shifted your hips down slightly, never taking your eyes from his gaze. Unable to stop yourself from the all-consuming closeness you felt to Lucifer. Watching him, wanting him; all the while knowing there is no going back now. And yet, not wanting to miss a single moment. The sensations below and Lucifer - curse his name - drove you to this madness, this ecstasy. He pulled you down, his fingers digging into your waist. 

There was a sharp pain as you felt yourself stretch to accommodate his length. A burning sensation that made you want to move in the opposite direction. Then, as soon as it came on, the pain subsided. It was replaced by a delicious, honeyed heat that speared through your middle as he gave you more and more. He moved slowly, holding you as delicately as he could. 

You watched his lips change from a thin line of steely determination to an open-mouthed pant, a groan escaping from his throat. The two of you were finally hip to hip, as close as you could possibly be, with him hot and heavy and incredible inside you. 

You couldn’t tell if it was you that was trembling or him. Maybe it was both. His grip on your hips tightened, drawing you up, your sensitive spot grazing the plane of his pelvis in a torturous motion. 

“Open your eyes, my sweet, indulge me.” You didn’t realize you had closed them.

You obeyed his ask, “Oh, Lucifer.”

“How does it feel?”

“You feel - ah - better than anything,” you cried out as he snapped his hips to you, “What are you doing to me?”

“I’m acting on our desires, my sweet.” His breath stuttered, as though he was fighting something internally. “No one else will ever have you like this.”

“I’m yours, Lucifer, all yours.” Your sensitive spot grazed his pelvis again, making you gasp. “You’re perfect.” Your fingers tangled in his soft hair as you kissed him deeply, fervently. 

He responded by groaning into your mouth, and when you broke the kiss to lay siege to the skin of his neck, he moaned breathily in your ear. 

You were a quick learner. “Darling Lucifer, do you like it when I tell you that I’m yours?”

“Yes -” He hissed. His breath was rapid now, and he picked up his movements, meeting every thrust and guiding you with his hands on your hips.

You felt a buildup starting again in your center, picking up from where his fingers had left off earlier. The friction was driving you to a point of no return.  A moan tore its way through your chest, reverberating off the cavern walls.

“Lucifer, I’m yours, all yours.” You cried out his name as he slipped one hand between the two of you, using his finger to gently apply pressure to that spot that made the edges of your vision cloud over.

His name was a litany of prayer as he thrust into you over and over while his finger sated your clit. You clung to him with your remaining strength as you felt your body collapsing under waves of pleasure. The sensation was enough to drown you, to pull you under, but his continued motions kept you afloat. 

You gasped, whined, moaned for him, telling him with and without words how you felt. Your legs shook and your hands trembled as they went from his shoulders to around his neck, pulling him in so you were chest to chest. Your entire body felt like it was falling apart and being made whole simultaneously. Your release crashed over you in a multitude of waves.

“I’m yours, Lucifer.” You felt him still inside you, thrusting as deep as he could as he breathed raggedly, filling you with a deep, pulsating heat, a broken sound leaving his lips. He held you like that for a while, the two of you clinging to one another tightly. The rising and falling of your chests and shared breaths returning back to normal.

How could anything return back to normal after this?

With one hand you caressed his cheek, opening your eyes and seeing the weight of his expression, “Luci-”

“You meant that, didn’t you?” His eyes searched your face, looking for hints.

You didn’t need to confirm what he was asking. You knew. He knew the answer as well, but he sought reassurance. “I do. I’m yours.”

He sighed heavily, resting his forehead to yours.

You kissed him, savoring the feel of his lips against yours. “And you’re mine.” 

[jordisblogg]

am i worthy of this gift?

shuri x reader

summary: after the birth of your newborn daughter, shuri makes a promise to her, she’d always be there.

ib:

it was around 3– maybe 4am, you and your wife, shuri were laying in bed, soundly asleep, until the sound of your daughter, amani’s, cries interrupted your slumber.

ever since the bundle of joy was born, it seemed like you haven’t gotten any rest, and it looked and quite literally was taking a toll on you. as you groaned and prepared yourself to get up, shuri stopped you.

“lay back down, umfazi, i’ll get her.” she reassured you softly, giving you a gentle kiss on your forehead and throwing the duvet off of her while you laid your head back down on your silk pillow.

shuri steadily walked up to the crib, “hey, hey..” she whispered to the tiny one, picking her up and softly bouncing her in her arms, making her way to the large accent chair.

catch me i’ve fallen in love for the first time

she rocked amani close to her, letting her hear the steadiness of shuri’s heartbeat as she took slow, calm breaths, softly rubbing her back and kissing her atop her head.

soon the girl’s cries turned to hiccups, then to coos.

for you i drop the tough guy shit, on this bus i sit

the queen chuckled to herself, “made all of that fuss.” she teased, smiling down at the little princess. she studied the infants features, god she had to be the most gorgeous baby she’d ever seen, or maybe she was just biased.

“hi omncinci” she whispered, gently wiping off the tears from her daughters chubby cheeks with her thumb.

“you were waking mommy up, you know? she’s been really sleepy..”

amani only stared up at her with her big brown eyes.

the royal shook her head, “i don’t know why i’m talking to you as if you can even comprehend words.” she exhaled, watching the gummy smile spread across the princess’ face. the sight only warmed shuri’s heart more.

reminisce when you came out the womb

“what am i going to do with you omncinci?” she spoke, mainly to herself.

she was blessed with the intelligence to be able to grant the gift of the both of you, two females, to create a child with both of your combined dna. but she feels like she might waste it.

what if she isn’t a good mother? what if she doesn’t know how to help you when you need her? how to connect with the little bundle of joy once she grows and matures? will they both fight? will they even like each other?

the soft giddily screech of her daughter snapped her out of her thoughts.

she brought amani up to kiss her over her face, she couldn’t laugh just yet, but shuri could tell she was trying, it made her giggle to herself.

“are you trying to laugh? are you laughing at me encinci?” she mocked, tickling the infant in her stomach, causing her legs to squirm.

tears of joy i think filled up the room

she could remember the day that you both had announced the birth of your daughter to the nation. they called her the kingdom’s gift, and that she is. she was something, someone, you all needed.

shuri remembered the spark in your tear filled eyes as amani was brought into your arms. she hadn’t cried when she came out of your womb, she merely looked around, after just coming into the world, she was curious little thing.

you told her how perfect she was, how beautiful she looked, she had shuri’s skin complexion but had your eyes, with the longest, prettiest lashes. a mop of curls set atop her head. and she was so little, almost as if you could crush her if you held her too hard.

she truly was perfect and had to be the most gorgeous baby you both had ever laid your eyes upon, and the kingdom agreed.

you are now the reason that i fight

it had seemed like time had slowed down as shuri had first seen the baby girl. she had never cried that much since the death of her mother and her brother.

but now she was blessed with the gift of a family of her own.

“i promise you,” her voice cracked, as a single tear fell down her cheek, “i’m going to be here for you, i wont ever let you go.”

i ain’t never did nothing this right in my whole life

“i always give you a shoulder to cry on, then i’ll dry your tears, i’ll clear the skies when it rains, i’ll make sure you never feel anything but joy, i’d give you the moon and stars if you asked me, i’d move mountains for you, i’d keep away all the big bad wolves that would even dare to mess with you, i won’t ever let any harm come to you, sithandwa.”

got me thinkin’…

“i love you.”

am i worthy of this gift?

[sassycheesecake]

Hello sweet cheeks 🙊🙊🙊

How's your day with me bugging you all the time 😂💃🏻

So I was wondering if you could write about meeting Kuroo, Iwazumi, Daichi and Akaashi for the first time, it can be before or after the time skip whatever makes you feel comfortable

Thank you in advance 🙈❤️

Don’t worry! You can never bug me 😂

I’ll gladly do that for you, I did Kuroo pre-timeskip and the others post-timeskip. I hope that’s okay. Enjoy! ❤️

You met the cheeky Middle Blocker Captain in high school. Precisely in one of the home rooms that you guys share together unknowingly.

Your teacher called you and Kuroo after class together, stating that your science grade is extremely bad and Kuroo’s grade in English is pretty much embarrassing to look at. But thankfully English is your best subject and Science is Kuroo’s.

So your annoying teacher put the two of you together, hoping that you can get each others grades up by studying together.

The two of you met up at the library the next afternoon after school, Kuroo being benched temporarily, until his grades improve.

The ravenette is a very attractive attentive teacher, explaining things to you so easily, that even a preschooler can understand it. He mixes humor and studying togther, mostly humor though.

Saying stupid chemistry jokes, making fun of other teachers and making you laugh uncontrollably by doing it.

Every time you would study together, Kuroo scooches closer to you each time with his chair.

He loves hearing your laugh, it’s the most beautiful thing he has heard in his 18 years of living.

After two months, Kuroo developed a big fat crush on you, not knowing you also started to feel the jiggles whenever you would see him at lunch in the cafeteria or in the hallway with his teammates from the volleyball club.

Kuroo started smiling a lot more and it doesn’t get unnoticed by his best friend.

The Nekoma team is on their way to the gym to go to practice when Kuroo spots you walking down the hall with one of your friends.

"Who’s that?" Kenma asks intrigued.

Kuroo keeps his hazelnut-colored eyes on you, as you walk down the hall with your friend and Kenma sees a gleam in his best friend’s eyes.

"Someone I will definitely want to get to know better and spend more time with."

The first time you met Iwaizumi Hajime, it was the day his kid got into trouble at school. His son, who is an exact replica of his father, stood up for a girl who got bullied by another boy. The little Iwaizumi boy warned the mean boy twice before he struck him down with a fist.

You as their home room teacher obviously had to call the parents, even if Isamu, the son of Hajime only did it to stand up for someone.

All the children have been picked up by their parents and you are just waiting in front of the school for Isamu’s father, who has a busy job but still has to talk to you about his son’s behavior.

When you met Isamu’s father, you weren’t prepared for a 6'1 man made out of pure muscle to show up in front of the school. His track suit had the volleyball logo and the Japanese flag on his front chest pocket and you have to pinch yourself to snap out of your drooling.

When Iwaizumi and you talked about Isamu’s behavior, the strict father scolded his son immediately but was also confused why he was violent towards a classmate because Isamu never strikes.

You assured him that Isamu stood up for a girl and that he won’t be punished for what he did and Iwaizumi feels his stomach doing small somersaults when he listens to your voice.

Thanking you for not punishing his son, Iwaizumi promises you that this won’t happen again.

With a blush and a smile on yours and the Athletic Trainer’s face, you part ways and the dark-brown haired man can’t help but be curious why his son was violent.

"Isamu, why did you punch that boy? I know I didn’t teach you to hit other kids even if they are mean." Hajime frowns at his 7 year-old.

"Uncle Tōru told me to ‘kick ass’ if someone is mean to someone else. He said I shouldn’t tell you or you will fly to Argentine and kick his." Isamu said nonchalantly while munching on his dumpling, walking beside his father to the car.

Iwaizumi can already feel his rage building up, thinking all sorts of ways how he can strangle Oikawa to teach his son this way to handle bullies.

When the Athletic Trainer remembers your kind face from just now, he can’t fight the smile that begins to grow on his face.

Maybe he will start picking his son up more often now, instead of sending Hanamaki or Matsukawa when he is too busy with work.

Funny enough, you met Daichi Sawamura when he was about to write you a speeding ticket.

You just got dumped by your ex via text message and to say you were furious about this cowardly way to break up with someone, is an understatement. (I got dumped once via text as a teen and I swear I wanted to set the world on fire)

So you were maybe driving a little bit over the speed limit, big deal.

What you didn’t expect though, is to have the hottest cop in town pulling you over for speeding.

You were so red in the face from anger, embarrassment and nervousness that Daichi honestly thought you were on drugs or something because you kept stammering when you talked.

You vented about the person that left you and Daichi listened intensely, hearing you out.

Luckily for you, he has a weakness for a beautiful messes like yourself.

He let you off with a warning, giving you a piece of paper anyway.

You’re about to crumble it up when you saw what he wrote down.

'Next time you’re thinking of speeding, don’t. Be safe and call me if you want to talk :) xxx-xxxx-xxxx'

Manga Editor Keiji Akaashi, the beautiful ravenette with the gorgeous blue eyes.

The two of you met at a coffee shop, while Akaashi needed to work some more on his deadline at work, he needed a good strong coffee to be able to stay awake.

Luckily, there’s a nearby store with the name ‘Night’s watch', a coffee shop who is only open at night.

Akaashi hasn’t tried that shop yet but according to some of the ravenette’s coworkers, it’s Game of Thrones themed.

When Akaashi enters the shop, he has to say he’s impressed with the interior design.

The room is decorated like an old tavern from the Middle Ages, some seats have sheep’s fur on them, the black stone walls decorated with swords from the show, some coats of arms of the House Targaryen, House Stark and House Baratheon.

It’s a cozy atmosphere and the drinks are not that expensive.

You were working as the barista that day and you were wearing the Hand of the King pin, meaning you are in charge of the shop if the owner is not in.

You are also kind forced to speak in Old English to costumers but thankfully you’re a literature student so it’s a piece of cake for you.

Akaashi thought you were incredibly charming and while you made his order ready, the two of you got to talk a little bit.

Funnily enough, you went to the same school but never crossed each other’s path.

Seems like Akaashi will drop by more, because it gave him some new ideas for manga tropes.

[liloinkoink]

here's another minimal context scene from that beauty and the beast au. this one's from real late in the plot, but i think it'll make... enough sense? it'll at least sound cool

here are the other two scenes i've posted: Ren gets cursed and the knife scene, both of which come earlier in the plot

The last day of Martyn’s life is beautiful. 

The sky is bright, finally. Uncertain sunlight stretches its first warm rays across winter-hardened ground, casting the illusion of spring through the window. Martyn knows better, of course—unable to feel the sunlight through the bars of his cell, all he has to work with is the blistering winter wind, a biting cold that the sunlight has not yet chased away. 

The deceptive warmth is a bit on the nose, Martyn thinks, but maybe he doesn’t have enough time for anything but the most unsubtle of metaphors. 

Ren had been working with Scar. Weeks of hiding out at Ren’s castle, and the whole time, Ren had been planning to turn Martyn in for his own execution. Weeks Martyn spent clearing the crumbling stone, rotting wood, dusty corners of that place, making it livable again. Weeks he’d wasted in Ren’s care, eating his food, finding comfort at his fireplace, sleeping at his side. He’d believed in Ren, and Ren had been planning to betray him all along. 

Martyn really should have killed him when he’d had the chance. Maybe, if he’d been fast enough, Ren would never have been able to call for Scar at all. 

Maybe Martyn should have stopped to think why Ren was cursed in the first place. Maybe he should have considered Ren might have deserved it. 

Watching the sunlight prod the dead grass isn’t enough to distract Martyn from the sound of footsteps, though he pretends not to hear them until they stop right outside his cell. 

“Why, hello there!” Scar’s voice is as friendly as ever, which is to say so thick with syrupy cheer Martyn’s teeth hurt just listening to him. “Beautiful day out, isn’t it? Are you excited to enjoy the day? Stretch your legs?”

“Aren’t you supposed to offer me a last meal? Even your dog was a better host than this,” Martyn bites. Scar laughs. 

“Oh, I don’t know about that! I’ve given you such lovely accommodations.” Scar grins, sounding quite proud of himself, and Martyn sighs. 

“A real five star establishment,” Martyn turns, glaring, “Look, whatever gloating you’re going to do, just get it over with. Is this where you tell me I should never have gone against your rule? Or that Ren is going to be in the audience to help drive home the point? I’m already—“

“What? Ren, in the audience?” Scar asks. He’s amused, his eyes shining with undisguised glee. 

“Yeah, what?” Martyn asks. 

“Nothing, nothing, I just realized something really funny about you two, is all,” Scar says. 

“What is that supposed to mean?” Martyn asks. 

“Nothing! Nothing, it’s part of his curse. Didn’t he tell you? And here I thought he trusted you!” Scar says, aghast. “He’s a dog, Martyn, you can’t let those go without some kind of leash. He’s fenced in, just as any responsible person would do.”

“He’s what?” Martyn asks, and with startling clarity Martyn remembers a hundred moments of Ren sitting just inside the gate, waiting for Martyn to return from the woods just outside the bounds of the castle. He’d stopped at the gate when Martyn had fled, too, pacing back and forth inside the entryway. Martyn gasps, “Ren can’t leave the grounds.”

“Oh, you got it!” Scar says. Martyn narrows his eyes. 

“Why would he tell that to you?” Martyn asks. Scar leans in towards the bars, grinning. It isn’t wide, but it’s all teeth, perfectly white. 

“He really didn’t tell you? Maybe I didn’t need to be worried about you two,” Scar says, “It’s starting to sound like Ren didn’t trust you at all.”

“Shut up,” Martyn snaps, “If he can’t leave, how did he contact you?”

“Hm… Well, that’s the thing…” Scar hums, stroking his chin with one hand, “I wouldn’t say he contacted me, so much as that I was around and decided to pay my friend a visit.”

“Ren didn’t turn me in,” Martyn repeats, “You were lying. That whole— how much of that did you lie about? Was he even working with you at all?”

“Ren and I haven’t worked together in some time,” Scar admits, feigning sadness, “My poor friend, stuck in that old castle, wasting away under that unbreakable curse.”

“Friend, huh?” Martyn asks. He’s trying to sound mocking, but he thinks he might just sound afraid. “Is that a lie, too?”

“Ren and I were great friends! Up until someone cursed him to take the form of a loyal dog, forced to sit and wait at home until someone actually put as much faith into him as he did them.” Scar says, wiping away a dry tear, “It’s too bad, though. That big, trusting heart of his… No one’s ever going to match it, not in this world. He’ll be in that kennel forever, waiting for someone to respect a dog as though he were a person.”

Martyn sits up. 

“You cursed him,” Martyn says. It’s not a question. 

Scar absolutely beams. 

“I was starting to get worried, actually. I felt the curse weakening, so I went up to see what had happened with Ren. The fact it was my runaway rat who had pitied him was just a lucky break, but the fact that on top of that, you’d even left the bounds of Ren’s protection? Lady Luck must really like me!” Scar brags. He sighs, crossing his arms. 

“You absolute basta—“ Martyn starts, hopping to his feet. 

“But,” Scar barrels right over him, “It doesn’t seem like I needed to worry about anything. Not even that naive old dog trusted you.” 

With that, Scar takes a step back from the cell, smiling as bright as always. 

“Well,” Scar says, “Thank you for the lovely talk, Martyn. I’ll see you later tonight!”

Martyn doesn’t bother to watch him leave. He looks back to the window, through the bars and into the courtyard. He can’t see the forest from here—can’t see anything for the walls surrounding the whole castle. 

He’s never going to see Ren again, and it’s his own damn fault. Why would he believe a pathological liar over Ren? If Scar had come any other time, if Martyn hadn’t already been jumping to conclusions just because he’d overheard— he’s never going to see Ren again, and the last thing they’ll ever have done together is argue. 

For whatever little it’s worth, he knows now who he trusts. 

—---—

Somewhere at the edge of the forest, Ren falls flat on his face. 

This is the last step in a process, though. The process begins like this: 

The barrier of Ren’s curse is unbreakable, unyielding, but that doesn’t stop him from trying. He’s been scratching at it since Scar and his men disappeared over the horizon, Martyn in chains among them. His paws bleed, a few of his claws casualty to his desperation, but the barrier stays. Ren stays, his eyes locked on the path down the hill, pleading for something he knows he’ll never see.

Somewhere in the world, Ren is trusted.

Ren’s fur falls out in patches. The claws—the ones left, anyway—disappear next, and then his ears twitch for the last time, vanishing into his hair. His face changes, muzzle shrinking, body shuddering as the rest of him follows. 

The tail disappears at the same moment as the barrier, and this is when Ren pitches forward into the dirt. He hits hard ground, and what shocks him most is how cold it is—suddenly, Ren is freezing.

He scrambles up onto his elbows, tugging his cloak closer to himself. When he looks down, it’s not to thick fur—Ren finds himself staring at human arms. Perhaps a bit hairier than he remembered, sure, but pale pink, with fingers and thumbs ending in short, dirty nails. 

“Oh, my god,” Ren whispers. His mouth stretches in shapes unfamiliar, a face almost too short. He licks the inside of his mouth and finds all the teeth inside perfectly regular, devoid of the long canines that have dominated his smiles for the last few years. 

He’s human. The barrier is gone. The curse is broken. Ren can do… anything, really. Everything he’s put on hold, anything he’s dreamed while pacing the halls. The world is open to him once again, and he has all the money and power and freedom to find anything he’d like. He could take back the stolen throne. He could seek out revenge on Scar. He could take a walk out into the forest, simply because the barrier wouldn’t stop him.

There’s only one thing he needs, though. One which he knows needs him, too. 

Ren shoves himself to his feet and runs back inside. There’s got to be something he can wear in one of these rooms. He can’t be too picky, though—he has somewhere to be, and he’s already late.

[outlaw-apologist]

The Gang Catching Feelings For You (RDR2)

The gang catching feelings for you! (Mostly GN) Characters: Arthur, Charles, Trelawny, Hosea, Micah Warnings: Micah’s story contains mentions of gender Note: This one was written for @onceuponadie sorry it took me forever to bang this out. :’) AO3 Version Arthur At first you thought you might be annoying Arthur. He always seemed really awkward when you tried to help out or when you stopped him to make sure his satchel was filled with new supplies before he left camp. Arthur becomes stiff when you’re around. Half of the time he could hardly hold eye contact. It made you feel bad. You were only trying to make his tasks easier. Everyone always had such huge expectations of Arthur. No one cared if there was enough stew leftover for him when he returned to camp, or if the supplies were rationed out to him. You took notice of this quickly, their behavior was beyond you. The man doing the most work for the gang should be supported.

“Thank ya’ kindly.” He usually responded whenever he caught you in the act, tipping his hat down to cover his eyes. It wasn’t in a rude way… just… awkward. It was hard to decode exactly how he felt about it and you assumed he’d speak up if he wanted you to stop and so you kept on doing your thing. You hadn’t seen Arthur in a few days. According to Hosea he went out hunting to replenish the camp’s food supply. Not something unusual. The day was lovely, naturally you decided you wanted to get away from the gang for awhile – in need of some serious space and fresh air – and help out by bringing something in. Fishing sounded nice! Not so close by, as you didn’t want anyone bothering you. You took your horse to a beautiful area you had heard so much about. Cumberland Falls. What you didn’t expect was to see a familiar outlaw fussing with his horse near the bank of the Dakota River. You slowed your horse to a walk, heading his way. Arthur’s voice carried was over the water in the cold spring breeze. “You’re alright girl. Just let me take a look at it. Easy now-” “Is she alright?” You called out. Arthur’s head snapped up and he gave a shrug. “Got ambushed by some O’Driscoll boys. Shot her leg pretty good. Hope she don’t go lame on me.” You could hear the upset in Arthur’s voice even as he tried to act casual. He had a close bond with his horse, something you had always admired. Dismounting your own, you rummaged through your satchel while approaching him. “Here- this might help until we can get her looked at.” You gently pushed a bottle of horse tonic into his palm. Arthur was slow to take it, interlocking your fingers together as he wrapped his much larger hand around the glass bottle. His eyes were on yours, gaze electric and intense. “Thank you.” His voice wasn’t shy this time. He wasn’t turning away from you as he usually did. “You look exhausted.” Your words were gentle, not meaning any offense. “Take my horse, I’ll lead yours so you can rest.” “That’s really not necessary-” Arthur trailed off as you took the reigns from him. He could tell there was no room for argument here. With a small grunt he turned to give his horse the tonic. In truth, Arthur was feeling pretty upset about his horse. Maybe it was the stress of everything. The weight of Backwater on his shoulders. His mind was racing yet, calm, at the same time. How was that possible? He didn’t know. The only other time he felt that way was with Mary. But you? Your actions were so genuine. It made him feel… better. Unexpectedly this was hard for him to accept. Why was someone treating him with so much empathy? Maybe you pitied him, an old man that had no value outside of stealing and shooting for dollars. However, he thinks he understands now. It wasn’t pity. Pity doesn’t make someone manifest from thin air when he wishes they were there. And yeah, it probably was coincidence this time, but damn did it feel natural. It felt… right… As if you two were being drawn to each other like magnets. You see him for who he is and you accept him no questions asked. “Somehow… You always know where to find me when I need you. What would I do without you?” “I guess we’ll never know.” Arthur’s stomach fluttered with butterflies when you flashed him that brilliant smile of yours. Maybe it was time for him to move on and find love again. ___ Charles You liked Charles. Being around him was peaceful. He, like you, enjoys the serenity that comes with nature; and so you two were often found in proximity of each other working on your respective crafts or doing a quiet activity while taking in the day. You didn’t know much about each other. He was a quiet man and you… well, you tried not to talk about yourself unless asked. Over time you observed things about him. It was hard not to. Charles is a dedicated man. Always would his brow furrow when concentrating on his work. He would give a little grunt of victory whenever something came out particularly good that he was proud of. You noticed he would stop to admire a beautiful feather on the ground, or an interesting rock. If animals wondered by your hang-out Charles would put down his work to watch them with a small smile. Fondness for Charles began to grow in your heart. You had feelings for Charles first. You never said or did anything to convey this, of course. It was hard to tell how Charles felt about you and… You know he wouldn’t be unkind towards you if he knew, but you didn’t think he’d feel the same way. Instead you carried on as normal. As time went on this became a little difficult. Every time someone in camp had something to say about him, you were either defending Charles or singing his praises. Not obnoxiously so, but enough to make a few of the gang members suspicious. Despite an odd look here and there, no one said a word. Not even Charles himself. Charles too had wondered at times what your words would mean when you would tell Bill to shut up because Charles was the best hunter they had. Or when you would threaten Micah’s life whenever it looked like he was about to say a slur. It couldn’t be- right? Charles knew he made himself too boring and unassuming… You were probably just being a good friend. “Hey Charles.” You greeted, sitting beside him by the fire in front of Shady Bell. “I know this really isn’t your thing but I have a lead in Saint Denis and I… Well, I need a husband so I can get into this party.” You flashed a shy but goofy grin. “Find someone else.” You blinked in surprise. You knew it probably wasn’t personal but his cold reaction did sting a little. “C’mon.” You gently nudged him. “It’s not really my thing. I don’t think I can help you.” “I know, but I need someone who’ll keep their head. I don’t trust the others not to ruin it.” Charles turned to study your face. You didn’t usually go on jobs like this, nor did you normally ask for help. The mission must have been worth it. “Alright, let’s go.” Charles looked stunning. Trelawny called in a favor from someone in the city and was able to pull together extravagant outfits for the both of you. Charles tied his hair back and… damn did the man clean up well. It was unnatural seeing him this way. It didn’t suit him at all, you loved his usual look more than anything. But hey- you could admire Prince Charles for one evening. Heads turned as you both walked into the small garden party. It wasn’t anything over the top. Mostly it was rich women chatting together. You had met them previously and pretended you were married to a rich man in an attempt to gain access into their society. It worked… A little too well. They were eager to meet your husband. Charles was certainly not who they had expected. “Oh-” One of the women’s faces fell. Judgment danced in their eyes. “You’re married to…” Her mouth opened and closed. Immediately you spoke up before something unsavory was said. “This is my darling husband Charles Wilson.” “Mr. Wilson” A younger woman extended her hand for Charles to kiss. “Y/N tells us you’re quite the talented agricultural tycoon.” “Is that so?” Charles shot you an amused look. “I try to be humble but in plain terms, you can say that.” “How wonderful it is a man of your stature could be so… influential.” “Oh come now Mrs. Jones. I’d love to hear all about it. Our husbands aren’t half as interesting.” A third lady giggled. You gave Charles an apologetic look. You hated leaving him here but the thousands of dollars worth of jewelry weren’t going to steal its self. “I’m afraid, ladies, I feel a bit ill today. May I excuse myself?” “Of course, dear. We’ll keep your husband company. The powder room is upstairs to your left.” You slipped in and out easy enough. The jewelry wasn’t hard to find. Upon returning you rejoined everyone. Charles did look a bit bored and you could only imagine what these women were saying to your sweet handsome husband. “Thank you.” You turned to Charles as you both left for the night.  He had an arm wrapped around you, supporting his ‘ill’ partner. “I know they were terrible and I feel bad for dragging you into this.” “Not at all. I’m used to it. It doesn’t help that I’m not exactly husband material.” Charles tried to make fun of himself to lighten the mood but it only made you feel heavier. “Don’t say that.” You squeezed his shoulder. “That’s not true at all.” Maybe it was the drinks you had at the party, but suddenly you just couldn’t keep it in anymore. “Charles you are one of the gentlest people I’ve ever met. You’re compassionate and considerate. You’re so appreciative of everything around you. You don’t speak much but when you do you’re so damn articulate. I could listen to you talk for days and days and still be in awe of how brilliant your mind is. You’re just…” You ran your fingers through your hair while sucking in a sobering breath.  “So beautiful. And handsome, but that’s a story for another time.” A nervous laugh erupted from your lips. You probably went too far this time. “It’s an honor being seen next to you.” Thick awkward silence blanked the evening for the longest time. How could he respond to something like that? It sounded…. It sounded as though you genuinely liked him? “You really mean that?” Charles’ voice was filled with doubt. You were probably only saying those things because you felt bad for putting him in such a position. Though, it was nice to hear someone point out good things about his character and not just what he was useful for. No one had ever said anything like that to him before. It made his heart skip a beat. “I do.” Charles hummed with happiness. He believed you. “I’ll be your husband again. Maybe not for a party of rich white people, but we make a pretty couple. I’m sure we can find a way.” His gaze met yours fondly. Maybe one day being your husband won’t be an act but a reality. ___ Micah “There you are dead-weight.” You could have groan as the voice of none other than Micah Bell reached your ears. You were having a nice afternoon reading in the trees not far from camp. Ever since the gang left Colter Micah’s been on your back – for whatever reason – and it was getting on your last nerve. Dead-weight was his new favorite thing to call you. If it wasn’t that then it was probably ‘piglet’. You eat Pearson’s stew at camp around him one time and he was enraged because you ‘didn’t do enough to earn it’. He wasn’t every creative. It wasn’t that you didn’t pull your weight, because you did. You’re a real hard worker. But you also value your alone time and Micah… Well, he caught onto that real quick. Every damn time you wandered off for a moment to yourself he managed to find you one way or another. You were at the end of your rope. “Shouldn’t you be makin’ yourself useful? Go make money on your back or somethin’ like the other girls.” You looked up at him over your book while he scoffed at you. All you could do was snort in amusement. “Maybe you should go make money on your back, Micah. Though, I can’t imagine anyone would want to fuck your grimey unwashed ass.” Micah’s face twisted up in both confusion and rage. How dare you insinuate something so… Queer? So disgusting? He didn’t know what to say and you watched as he struggled to come up with a response. “I bring in the money, I don’t wash the clothes.” “And what money have you brought in?” Your voice was calm and measured. “Only Arthur and I’ve been bringing in the big bucks.” “I’ve been out workin’ real jobs that’ll bring in more than you and cowpoke have scrounged up in weeks.” You simply shut your book. “Sure you are, shit-ass.” Oh- a huge smile crossed your face. That’s what you’ll call him for now on.   Micah seemed to catch on, realization flashing across his face. He suddenly threw his head back with a hearty laugh. Never had he thought you’d return his energy. Not many people did. Arthur probably would but that man was beat into the ground and no fun in his opinion. But you? Hilarious! “I like that. I’ll remember that next time.” He loved it. He picked on you because he wanted to stare at your ass while you work around camp. He didn’t like it when his entertainment left his sight. To be honest Micah didn’t think anything would develop between the two of you. He considered you just as pathetic as Molly… But now… Maybe you did have a bite to you. An inkling of suspicion crept into your thoughts when you caught the joy in his eyes. Oh god- this was just the beginning. Micah was going to have his fun. ___ Josiah Josiah couldn’t help himself. He had to flirt with everything and anything he found beautiful. You were no exception. He didn’t expect anything to come of it. Nothing ever did. You laughed at his magic tricks and scolded him whenever you and Arthur had to get him out of trouble. You were just… Ordinary in his life. Like anyone else. You liked Josiah well enough. The two of you would talk about a show you’ve seen or a book you’ve read. However, you found yourself drawn to him as if there were a magnetic field pulling you in. Whenever Josiah would pop back up or walk into camp you seemed to jump up and greet him before anyone else could. Immediately you’d ask him how he was or where he’s been. Josiah thought it was amusing the first few times. You must have felt bad because no one else really cares if he’s there or not. “What’ve you been up to Mr. Trelawny?” You ask every time, leaning forward with an interested smile. He enjoyed you humoring him. “Well my dear, you see, there were these wolves-” always would he reply with some fabricated story with half-truths. You didn’t seem to mind. When Josiah had his face smashed in by bounty hunters in Rhodes the sting of embarrassment was greater than the pain. All because of you. It felt almost humiliating, letting you see him that way. Half expecting you to scold him or roll your eyes like usual, he was shocked as you gently took his chin and turned his head so you could examine him. “Does it hurt?” “Don’t worry about me, dear friend.” “You didn’t answer the question.” You pursed your lips in frustration. Josiah ran a hand through his hair. He squirmed under your concerned gaze, not used to gentle eyes being turned his way. It was weird. Truly strange. You carefully wiped the blood from his face and for once Josiah remained silent. Had you genuinely cared for him this whole time? His heart fluttered… Maybe… It’s silly to think, in his mind, but just maybe… He could start caring for you in the same way. ___ Hosea You follow Hosea around like a puppy at times. If a job had to be done, you were right there with Arthur to company him.  Fishing? Your pole would be out with bait on the hook or you’d sit beside him with a book in hand. You simply wanted to enjoy peace of his presence as he fished. It wasn’t annoying by any means. You’re not loud or presumptuous about it and it seemed as if you always knew exactly when he needed alone time or when he wanted space. Hosea enjoyed it. His boys were all grown and doing their own thing. Everyone now saw him as an old man. For awhile he did jobs on his own. Seeing who’s house he could slip into to make their pockets hurt. Now? He had a partner in crime who always understood his vision. It was fantastic! You two swap books when you’re done reading them and talk in length about philosophy. There was a certain deepness to your relationship. At first, Hosea saw you as a kindred spirit. You were someone who matched him like a puzzle piece. He spilled all of his heartaches to you as well as his hopes and dreams. Bessie was a big one. He’d speak of her when the gang was huddled around the fire at times. But there were things he couldn’t tell anyone. Not even Dutch who understood the loss of a woman he loved. When Hosea gave in, letting the emotions and memories of his dearly departed beloved spill from his lips like knocked over ink, you listened carefully. Offering empathy in ways Hosea didn’t even know he needed. In return he listened to your own heavy thoughts, offering his arms to cry in when needed. The whole gang knew about you and Hosea before you and Hosea figured it out for yourselves. “I think we should also bring Y/N to the party.” Hosea proposed in the midst of hashing out details from the mayor of Saint Denis. “Of course you do.” Ditch rolled his eyes, causing Hosea to cross his arms offensively. “What’s that supposed to mean?” “C’mon, look at’cha. I haven’t seen you like this in a long time, Hosea. Just ask them out already.” Hosea’s moth opened in protest but no words escaped. It took several seconds for Dutch’s words to properly click. All he could do was lean back against his chair. “You don’t think it’s too late for me?” His old friend shot him a weary smile. “It’s never too late for love.” For once Dutch was right. Hosea hummed to himself, conjuring a picture of the two of you together as an official couple. It did feel right. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

[acepalindrome]

Thinking about a young Izzy who loved to sing, but there’s no place for singing when you’re a cabin boy trying to survive on a pirate ship. Sea shanties might be alright, maybe, but not the beautiful love songs he learned at his mother’s knee. This isn’t a place for softness, for tenderness. So he stuffed that part of himself down. Learns to be harder and meaner.

And then he meets young Ed Teach, who’s grown up learning that he’s not the kind of person who can have silk and fine things, running away after killing his father. He’s learned to be hard and mean too. And they click. They work well together. But they just keep encouraging the other to shove down the soft parts of themselves, because how else can you keep yourself safe out here? If Ed sometimes looks longingly at a beautiful fabric, if he wakes up crying from the nightmare about his dad, if Izzy gets caught humming so very quietly while he works, if he gets a little misty when someone’s playing a sad old love song at the bar…they’ll both pretend not to notice. No place for that here, for men like them.

And so it goes, for years and years. The partnership turns into love that neither of them can voice, can’t express beyond an occasional tumble in the sheets, beyond Izzy’s devotion and Ed doing whatever he has to so his first mate doesn’t leave. It’s not happiness, but neither of them can let it go. And there are no fine fabrics or love songs on the Queen Anne’s Revenge.

Then Stede Bonnet happens, and everything gets turned on it’s head. This absurd, ridiculous man is embracing all the soft, tender things they denied themselves all their lives. And Ed starts to realize that maybe he can have these things too.

But not Izzy. He sees this fool with his books and marmalade and fancy clothes, who’s just bizarre enough to capture Ed’s attention. It won’t last. This still just be another of Edward’s little flights of fancy. It’ll be over soon.

Except it doesn’t end. Except Ed just keeps getting softer, more vulnerable. He’s throwing away the safety of being the most terrifying pirate on the seas, and for what? An idiot rich man playing at being pirates?

Ed’s wrong, of course. He’s getting too swept up in this little fantasy. So it falls to Izzy to end it, for both their sakes.

And he fails. So he tries again, more desperate the ever, seeing the man he’s loved for decades slipping away. And he fails again, but Bonnet ends up leaving anyway. The problem has solved itself, and things can finally go back to normal.

But everything is changed. Ed is wrapped up in silks, eating marmalade, singing. It’s a slap in the face to Izzy, and he snaps worse than he has in years.

And everything goes wrong.

By the time the storm breaks and the nightmare ends, Izzy has lost a leg and the man he loved for most of his life. He’s broken. He’s weak. He’s cried in front of the whole fucking crew, for fucks sake. He can’t do his job anymore, so what good is he? He’s going to die alone. That’s how this goes.

And instead, the crew gives him a new leg. They took the time to paint it gold. They wrote him a note, called him their new unicorn. It’s a lot of soft, fanciful nonsense that would has no place on a proper pirate ship, and it makes Izzy cry.

Maybe it’s alright for him to be soft too.

He starts to open up, bit by bit. He lets people care for him. He lets himself indulge in the tender things he denied himself all his life, and instead of being met with scorn and mockery, he’s supported and encouraged.

Until, after so many years, he allows himself to sing one of the beautiful love songs he’s always adored for the whole crew, his family, to hear.

[the-wanderer-2022]

Feather Serpent Goddess Chapter 7 - Dark Namor x Reader

(Please note you can find the Masterlist for this series at the top of my blog)

Taglist: @historygeekqueen @bontensbabygirl @midnightman123 @imlikefrhungry @naiomiwinchester @zooni92802 @ohantonia @astrospunutt @omgsuperstarg @aslutforscarletwitch99 @multifandom-boss-bitch @tzurue @gardenof-venus @zheezs14 @bookfrog242 @honestlyka @weaponb33 @angel-bi666 @telepathic-queer @fckwritersblock @iceydicey11 @softclue @marice23top @like-things-thatarentreal

Her head whips back like a lightning bolt. It as if icy water has been poured down her back, the feeling of hands and fingers and breathing and the mist coming from her mouth in the cool air is all so much.

(Y/N)’s heart softens a little when she sees her brother at her side. They are sitting in the dimly lit fog of a cavern. She scans the room, struggling to see anything for a while, until him. And how she could have missed him is a wonder. He is within arm’s reach of her.

Seeing him up close is no easy feat to endure. He’s handsome, that’s for sure, but when she sees his face, it feels like looking at a ghost. Is it passion or insanity she gleams in his eyes as his calloused hands roll down her cheek, his breath heavy.

“My beautiful, beautiful (Y/N).”

“I . . .” The voice that has always been hers now seems strange to hear. “I am not yours.”

Not trusting herself to say more, she goes silent but the King appears undeterred.

“I have waited so long for this moment. Eric. Leave.”

“She’s uncomfortable . . .”

“Without reason I assure you. Do not be excessively troubled for her, it could be very hazardous to your health.”

It is clear Erik is torn but at her nod, he squeezes her hand and leaves.

“You dare threaten my brother?”

“I threaten everyone my queen,” he smiles with all the warmth of a boa constrictor. She flinches when he takes a seat next to her, wrapping her in his arms. Her attempts to struggle appear almost unnoticed by him.

“Fear is the most effective tool my love,” he whispers, leaning closer and inhaling her hair with long deep gasps. “You will see that in time.”

“Let go of me.”

“No.”

“I said let go . . .”

“I’ve waited an eternity to hold my mate in my arms. You don’t know what that does to a man (Y/N). How many days and nights, drawing you, dreaming of you, the scent of your hair, the richness of your perfume. The last time you were here . . .”

“The last time . . .”

He touches a finger to her lips. “Forgive me. I spoke too impulsively.” He paused, her face in his grip, not letting her turn away. “We do not want to anger the gods.”

She laughs but there is no mirth to it. “My heart aches for you my King. Not at the top of the food chain after all.”

Her expectations are disappointed as he chuckles in return, ignoring the insult. “Call me ‘my King’ again. It reminds me of . . .” His gaze flickers to her lips. “Old times. You know I really do love you (Y/N). It started as a tiny spark but now, sometimes I swear I feel it burning my insides up . . .”

“That doesn’t sound healthy.”

“Oh I know it’s not!” he roars, his eyes twinkling with laughter. “I know it’s not. But you haven’t seen me before you.” His eyes glisten, empty husks. “You don’t know how bad I can get. I’m damned without you but if you remain, then perhaps . . .”

“You’re insane.”

“Love drives men to insanity.”

“Clearly you’ve never met my ex . . .”

As soon as the words leave her mouth, she knows she has made a mistake.

“Yes . . . your dear Erik has been educating me about your surface world.” He twirls a strand of her hair around his fingers before drawing her face to his with a snarl. “I doubt I will ever have the chance to meet these so-called exes of yours. What with them being deceased and all, it might make setting up a meeting difficult.”

“Fucking let go of me!” (Y/N) snaps and the effort it takes to kick herself free from him almost sends her flying down the stairs. “You’re crazy! You’re insane! And I don’t know what the fuck you want with me but I’m having no part in it! I’m gone! I’m out! Gone! Now give me my brother and take me home!”

“To your father?”

“Yes to my . . .” The satisfying smirk he has on his face makes her want to grab a stalactite and impale him with it. “What?!”

“I warned you.”

“You didn’t.”

“I warned you that love makes people insane.”

“You son of a . . .” He grabs her arm in mid air as she tries to strike him, bawling so hard it’s a wonder she is able to see straight. “I hate you! I fucking hate you! I wish I’d never met you! My body, my brother, my father! What else are you going to fucking take from me?!”

“Come now my beloved,” he murmurs, kissing her clenched knuckles. “You are going to hurt my feelings. You wanted to go back to your father. Now he is no more and hence there is nothing for you to go back to. You’re where you always should have been. You’re mine. Mine. Mine.”

With every word his face becomes more distorted, his eyes ever shadowy, he looks like a demon sent from the pits of hell and she is just crying and crying and crying and his eyes are as devoid of emotion as could be.

“My little feather serpent goddess.”

[so-much-for-stardust6]

First Date- 50s Cillian Murphy x Reader

kinda rushed it so i can post again but i got 0 energy

lowercase intended

might be spelling mistakes, didn’t re-read it

warning: smut

summary: it’s your first date with cillian but it doesn’t go as plan. what happens for the rest of the date?

i spritzed the perfume onto my body, inhaling the sweet scent. i was ready for my date. i was incredibly nervous as it was with the most gorgeous man i know, cillian murphy. i didn’t believe the rumors of him liking me until he asked me out. i was slipping on my shoes when i heard the doorbell ring, he’s here. i panic and quickly shove my feet inside my mary janes as i hear my mother answer the door.

“oh hello cillian!” her cheery voice rang out.

i finished and ran to my door and swung it open, catching their attentions. cillian’s mouth slightly drops open but he quickly composed himself.

“y/n…you look so beautiful.” his accent sending shivers down my spine.

“thank you, cillian…you look handsome.” i compliment back.

“well, go enjoy yourself kids. don’t stay out too late.” my mother smiles at us.

“thank you, ma. love you.” i go and give her cheek a kiss.

“love you too, sweetie. have fun!” she told us as we began walking out.

“i’ll make sure of it.” cillian smiles, a type of smile that gives me goosebumps.

he opens my door for me, a small thank you leaving my lips. he waits until i was fully situated to close the door and get in himself. i watch his fingers start up the car, practically drooling over them.

“do you like mike’s diner?” he snaps me out of my trance.

“huh? oh yeah, i love that place.” the thought of a milkshake making me thirsty.

“perfect cause that’s where we’re going.” he begins driving to our date destination.

like always, it was crowded inside and out with other couples having date nights. i go to open my car door once he parked but he stopped my arm. i furrowed my eyebrows at his action, watching as he ran out the car and to my side. i chuckle to myself as he opened the door for me, such a gentleman.

“you’re so cute.” i blurted out.

now it’s his turn to chuckle to himself, a blush on his cheeks and probably on mine too.

“you’re cuter.” he flirts back.

he holds out his hand and i happily take it, his warmth making me shiver. this man does things to me. we walk hand in hand inside the crowded diner and to an empty booth.

“what are you gonna get?” he asks, eyeing the menu.

“hmmm, maybe a burger and fries. what about you?” i look up at him, meeting his eyes that were already on me.

i blush a little, hoping he doesn’t see. but his smirk makes me know he does.

“i’ll get a burger too. can i share fries with you? i know i won’t finish my own.”

“of course, i don’t mind.” he smiles at my response.

“you’re the best.”

a waitress then walks up to us, pen and notepad ready.

“what can i get you two lovebirds?” she chews on her bubblegum.

“i’ll get a burger with some fries.” i order.

“okay…and for you?” she turns to look at cillian.

“oh um, i’ll get a burger as well but no fries please.”

“simple order…anything to drink?”

“hey cil, do you like strawberry milkshakes?”

he looked a little surprised at my nickname for him but he nodded yes.

“great, one strawberry shake.”

“alrighty, i’ll go put your guys’ order in.” the waitress clicks her pen before walking away.

“wait, only one shake?” he questions.

“yeah, we’ll share.”

a bright smile quickly formed on his face at my words, his hands reaching over the table to hold mine. we talked and talked about life while waiting for our food. in the midst of our talking, a loud bang caused everyone’s heads to turn towards the door. we all watched as the football team bursted inside the calm diner, laughter and shouting ruining the mood.

“great…” cillian mumbled to himself.

i watch as the waitress began walking to our table, two plates and a milkshake in hand. the quarterback cat called her and watched her as well until his eyes landed on me. he winked at me and gave me a unsettling smirk. i gave him a face of disgust before i focus back on cillian, who’s already munching down on his food.

“is it good?” i joke.

“hm?” he hums, mouthful as he looks up at me.

i laugh at the sight, already feeling myself falling for him.

“delicious. try your burger.” he talked, mouthful.

i didn’t find it disrespectful but actually cute. i take my burger and bite into it, the flavor hitting the right spot.

“how are the fries.” i ask, mouthful as well.

i pick up a fry and put it up to his mouth. he accepted the item and began chewing away. he gave me a thumbs up before stealing more. we played around with our food, feeding fries to one another and sharing the strawberry shake. just as he was gonna feed me a fry, a figure interrupted us. i turn my head to look at the quarterback who’s staring deep into my eyes.

“may we help you?” cillian questioned.

“hey there sweet cheeks, my names thomas, what’s yours?” he smirks, looking me up and down.

i slowly cover myself up, uncomfortable by his eyes.

“none of your business, thomas. now leave us alone.” his name spat out of my mouth like venom.

“excuse me? you have no manners, missy. you can’t talk to me that way.” he leaned closer to me, my reaction being to scoot farther.

“hey man, leave her alone.” cillian butted in, standing up.

he was soon to be back in his seat as another player shoved him.

“hey!” i shout at the guy, unfortunately leaving an opportunity open for thomas.

he went to grab me but i scrambled away and kicked his leg. cillian shot back up, pushing off the other players to go and shove thomas away.

“i said leave her alone!” he kept shoving thomas, something he didn’t like.

that’s when thomas’ fist collided with cillian’s face, forcing him to the ground.

“cillian!” i scream out.

by now we obviously have everyone’s attention, the chefs making their way out the kitchen to help. i get out the booth and kneel down to cillian, his bloody face contorted with pain. i was forced up by my arm and became face to face with thomas. i mimicked the man’s action from earlier and collided my fist with his face. i heard gasping from all around the diner, surprised i punched him.

“what the fuck is wrong with you.” he tried to lunge at me but luckily the chefs held him back.

they began shouting at the team to leave but i wasn’t listening, i was too focused on cillian below me.

“come on, cil. let’s go.” i help him up, groaning coming from his busted lips.

i dug into my sock, pulling out some cash handing it to the waitress. i told her to keep the change. i led cillian to the passenger seat, snatching his keys from the jean pocket while i was at it. i hop into the driver’s seat, turning it on and driving back to my house. i noticed my mom’s car missing, she was probably at her book club.

“where are we?” i heard the beautiful man beside me.

“my house, cil. i’m gonna clean you up.”

i get out the car and went to his side, opening the door and helping him out. i shut it with my foot before leading the two of us inside. i opened the door with a hidden key on the porch, locking it again once we’re inside. getting upstairs was the hardest part but i managed to do it. i sat him down on my bed, his body falling backwards. i watched as he laid there, groaning out in pain. one punch did this to him, telling me he never got into fights. i knew he didn’t, he’s a good guy. i grabbed my first aid kit from my bathroom before returning back to him.

“i need you to sit up for me, okay?” he hummed a “uh-uh” in response.

i sighed, frustrated at his refusal for help. i then moved to sit in his lap, his eyes shooting open at the contact. my brain didn’t think, i just did it.

“wha-“

“i need to fix you. sit up.” he finally listened.

i didn’t hesitate to clean up the blood, the sounds of him wincing in pain filled the silence. he leaned back, hands holding him up as i perfectly sat in his lap. i thought nothing of it, the clueless part of me taking over. i also thought nothing of it when i’d adjust myself to get a better grip or view of his face when placing the bandaids on. but i finally did think once i felt something poking my inner thigh, something hard. he had his eyes shut closed so he didn’t see me look down, his apparent boner catching my gaze. my breathing hitched at the sight of him like this. i knew he couldn’t help it, i mean i was moving around on his lap. a small smirk appeared on my lips when an evil plan popped in my head. i slowly began rolling my hips, his eyes once again shooting open at the movement.

“what are you d-doing?” the poor man stuttered.

“i said i’m going to fix you. i’m doing just that.” my voice dripping like sweet candy.

his hands gripped my bedsheet tightly, like he was holding back.

“i-i-we can’t…”

“why not?”

“because i really like you. and-and i don’t wanna do this on our first date.” he admits.

i stop my movements and smile at him.

“i like you too, cillian. but this won’t ruin things, it’ll make them better. i promise. we don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.” i start to get off, worried i’m crossing a boundary but his clammy hands held onto my hips.

he slowly guided me back to his lap, placing me perfectly on top his erection. my dress exposing my most aching area, aching even more with desire for him.

“i want to.” his voice low.

i then kiss him, a shock of electricity going through my veins. my mind went fuzzy and blank as his kisses contaminated me. i felt like i was getting drunk off of him, off of his taste. my hands travelled to his head, one on his cheek while the other tugged at his hair. he moaned at the feeling of my fingers pulling his dark locks, igniting a feeling deep down inside of me. his fingers snaked their way to the back of my dress, tugging at the zipper.

“can i?” he mumbled against my lips.

“yes.” i breathed out.

he then swiftly pulled the metal down, the sound making my stomach turn more. my dress slowly fell off my shoulders, his hands feeling around for a bra but stopping when he realized i didn’t have one on. he slowly pulled away from me, watching as my boobs slowly came into view. he felt like a teenager again, going absolutely crazy at the sight. his eyes, now dark blue, looked up at me. he was asking for permission. i took one of my hands and grabbed his, leading it up to my boob. he moaned out as i placed his warm hand, his reflex being to squeeze. he continued to do just that, eventually his other hand going to do the same to the other. my head was thrown back, moans escaping my puffy lips.

“god, you’re so beautiful…” he whispered to himself before placing kisses to my chest.

“cil…please….” i gripped his shoulders.

he pulled away to take off his shirt, exposing his beautiful freckled skin. my fingers traced the marks, loving every single one of them.

“stunning…” i whispered, pressing a kiss to his shoulder.

he smiled brightly at me, heart beating fast at my reaction. he stood up, holding my legs around his waist as he flipped us around. my back now laid softly against my warm bedsheet, cillian towering over me.

“can i?” he grabbed a handful of my dress, desperate for more.

“yes….please.”

he began to push the fabric up, exposing my bare legs and eventually my soaked underwear. if it was possible, his eyes got darker at the sight of the wet spot. his fingers went to touch it but he stopped himself, looking back at me for permission. i got frustrated at his constant stopping.

“yes cillian! fuck, do anything to me. just-please touch me…” i cry out.

he didn’t waste any time at my words, putting pressure on my clit. i bit my lip, trying so hard not to loudly moan at this simple contact. my foggy mind didn’t notice my underwear sliding down my legs until i felt him actually touch me. i arched my back, lifting myself off the bed and he rubbed circles. he watched my every move, my every reaction, going faster when i’d moan out. the small room echoed with my moans as i felt a harsh pit bubbling in my lower stomach. i was aching for him so it was no surprise that i’m already near an orgasm. just as i was about to release he pulled his fingers away, leaving me frustrated at the denial.

“what the fuck?!” i groaned out.

“i want you to cum with me.” he explained while he took off his pants.

a patch in the front of his boxers wet with precum. i watched his fingers pull the hem of the boxers down, slowly revealing his boner. he was aching for me as much as i did for him. his tip was red, begging for some kind of release. he was quick to me towards me, his leaky tip pressing against my wet pussy.

“you ready?” he looks straight into my eyes.

“yes.” i breathed out.

he barely gave me time to prepare since he immediately pushed himself in. he went slow, making sure he wasn’t hurting me but seeing how my face wasn’t full of pain and instead of pleasure, he quickly filled me up. he set a medium pace, my stomach doing flip when he pumps deep instead. the veins in his arms and popping, like he was holding back. his gritted teeth confirming.

“faster…please cil…” i moan, needing more.

he looked surprised at my words, like i wasn’t the type to like rough.

he gradually went faster and harder, crescendoing every second. he kept a harsh grip on my hips, definitely leaving bruises. i reached up, grabbing his arms to pull him down to me. i connected our lips hungrily, wanting to taste him more. his hips stuttered as i bit onto his bottom lip. i hands snaked their way into his hair, tugging it once again. he let out a breathless moan, absolutely going crazy over the action. i kept pulling just to hear those moans again. his sounds inch me closer and closer to my orgasm again. he pulled away from my lips, going down to kiss all over my chest. biting, sucking, kissing, doing anything he can to me. the bed kept creaking, hitting the wall with his thrusts. my hands began roaming his body, scratching and pressing harshly down at his soft skin. all my senses were heightened, i felt on cloud 9. feeling cillian’s lips on me felt…right. it felt perfect. i never want this to end, but a certain feeling indicated that it was going to.

“fuck cil…i’m gonna cum..” i dug my fingernails into his shoulder.

he hissed at the pain but the sound was followed by a quiet moan.

“me too…me too baby.” his words had an effect on me.

i moaned out and clenched around him at his sentence.

“you like what i said?”

“yes..” i breathlessly admit.

“god, you’re doing so good for me. you’re so beautiful, so pretty, so everything. can you cum for me, darlin?” i shivered insanely.

i was at the edge about to tip over. the one thing that tipped me over the edge and into an orgasm was his whimpering my name. i barely heard it but at the same time it was incredibly loud to me. i arched my back, squeezing my eyes shut, wrapping my legs around his waist and pulling him closer. an uncontrollable amount of moans escaped my parted lips as i came all over him. he watched my every move, my every facial expression, my everything as i came. now THAT sent him over the edge. he impulsively switch positions, not even thinking straight. he sat on his knees, pulling me to sit on his lap as he thrusted upwards. my body ran cold, overstimulation eating away at me. he held my ass, holding me up as he inches closer and closer. then he came. his hips came to a harsh halt, slamming into me abruptly before cumming. he held me close, our chests pressed together. his fingertips pressed into my hips, his head thrown back. his cum spurted into me, making my body relax from the feeling. i looked up to kiss his neck, it vibrating from his moans. his arms snaked around me, hugging me even closer. i knew he was done when i heard him release a loud breath. we stayed like this for a while, so close together. my cheek pressed against his freckled chest as he rested his chin on top my head. our breathing slowly went back to normal, our sweaty bodies becoming sticky. i felt him kiss the top of my head, muttering something i didn’t pick up.

“what was that?” i look up at him.

“nothin hon. let’s get cleaned up.” he smiled at me.

he held onto me as he got off the bed, walking us over to my connected bathroom. he sat me down on my counter, slowly pulling out of me. i hissed at the soreness but secretly got sad at the loss of contact. he ran the water, making sure it’s a perfect temperature. the shower was relaxing. cillian and i washing each others hair and bodies. he helped me get dressed and everything, this man will be the death of me. we ended the night off cuddling, talking about nothing.

[blurry-little-stars]

𝙄𝙙𝙞𝙖 Shroud x Reader with SH Scars Comfort 💙

Themes: TW!! Past Self Harm, Depictions of Depression, Burnout Reader, Scars, Poor Self Image, Comfort From S/o, Cuddles, Words of Affirmation, Scar touching, Mutual Comfort?

Reader Pronouns not mentioned but Idia calls you beautiful in a wholesome loving way

Word Count 873 (Not Proof Read!)

☆ You had been laying on your bed almost all day. You felt completely drained, you hadn’t even moved. You decided to skip out on school today but you realize you forgot to tell your friends and most importantly your boyfriend Idia. They were probably wondering why you didn’t attend your classes today.

☆ You sighed and forced yourself up from bed. You looked down at your thighs in grimace. A sick feeling swelled up in your chest. Your eyes met with scars scattered across your thighs. You felt unclean. You felt ugly. A part of you wanted to cry and the other part just didn’t have the energy to.

☆ Sure, they were old but you still felt an unbearable amount of regret when you saw them.

☆ You got up from your bed and looked for Grim. It appears he wasn’t in the dorm. He probably went to school without you, but school is almost over so he should be back soon. You head to the bathroom and brush your teeth and wash your face. You hear the dorm room door open and you figured Grim had returned.

☆ You step out of the bathroom to welcome Grim and instead you see Idia. You feel a sense of relief from that sick feeling seeing your boyfriend until you remember your current attire. A baggy shirt with shorts that aren’t long enough to hide your scars. Panic rises in your body knowing Idia is unaware of the scars. Fear of his reaction causes you to dodge him by hiding back inside the bathroom.

☆“Yea I just wasn’t feeling well today. Sorry I forgot to text you I wouldn't be attending school today.” you say as you pull down your shorts as much as you can in attempts to hide your scars. As you realize your attempts are futile you sigh, accepting maybe this should be the day he finds out about them.

☆ You grab a brush and quickly brush your disheveled hair to make yourself appear more tidy.

☆ Taking a deep breath you step outside the bathroom and you see Idia sitting on your bed nervously playing with his fingers until he sees you. You smile at him.

☆ A pain fills his heart. You look so tired and even though you're smiling at him you don’t seem happy and.. his eyes widen in surprise. Almost disbelief.

☆ The scars that covered your thighs. He instantly knew what they were. Millions of thoughts were filling his head. What happened? Why did you do it? Were you still doing that? Was it his fault?

☆ You sit beside him and gently take his hand snapping him out of his thoughts. “I hope now that you know, you don’t think any different of me.” you look down at his hand which is trembling softly. You feel bad. You know he gets so nervous and doesn’t know how to react to almost every situation.

☆ “W-What happened? Why did you do that?” He says, staring at your scars.

☆ You explain “Well some time ago before I even went to school here I was in a very poor mental state and I would hurt myself as a way of coping with it.”

☆ Before you could explain more he pulled you onto his lap in a tight hug, tears building up in his eyes. “Y/N I love you! I’m sorry you felt like that! I’m so, so sorry!” You can hear his voice shaking and he sounds like he is the verge of crying.

☆ You wrap your arms around him and hold him. After a moment he lets you go and looks back down at the scars again. “Can I?” You nod and he begins to gently traces his thumb across your scars as you bury your face into the crook of his neck. “Is this why you didn’t come to school today?”. You nod into his neck. He sighs.

☆ “Sometimes I get overwhelmed by regret when I see them, I feel ugly and disgusting. I was also feeling pretty burnt out for awhile so it was just too much for me.” you feel tears wanting to spill from your eyes but you do your best to be strong.

☆ “Your beautiful Y/N.” Idia says shyly. “No matter what you think of yourself you are the most beautiful person I’ve seen and better yet I get to be in a relationship with you. You are so nice and understanding to me.” his voice begins to fade off as he feels liquid on his neck. You're crying.

☆ He panics a bit. He didn’t mean to make you cry, he just wanted to make you feel loved. He gently pats your head and rubs gentle circles into your thigh in attempts to calm you down.

☆ You whisper in his ear “Thank you Idia, you don’t know how much I needed to hear that. I love you.”

☆ He blushes a little at your words then smiles knowing he made you happy

☆ You both decide to remain in that position for a little longer

[rippeanuts1950-2000]

The story of how Ocean released snakes upon St. Cassain 

Based on my last post.

“Noel why are you insisting that we watch the show instead of movie?” Ocean asked, grabbing a handful of popcorn. It was the choir’s monthly sleepover and like usual it was a huge debate on what to watch. However, instead of insisting on some obscure French movie, Noel was vouching for some Disney fantasy show. Ocean has no idea why he was insisting on it, given that when they were seven he declared that the only thing Disney related media worth watching was Beauty and the Beast. This had interested the rest of choir so most of the votes went to watching the show. Except for Ocean’s but she was outvoted. 

“Because it’s a good show. Also it’s gay but that happens later.” Noel said. “So are we watching the whole thing?” Mischa asked and Noel shrugged. “The nights young. Literally. It’s only 7. But I need to get you guys invested in this show too, so probably.” Noel said with a mischievous grin. Ocean groaned. “The whole night! Seriously? You guys can’t be okay with this.” She exclaimed, turning to the rest of the choir. Ricky poked the coffee table with his crutch which caught everyone’s attention. He was sitting comfortably on the couch with Penny snuggled up under a blanket next to him. 

I’ve heard good things about it. And I’ve been meaning to watch it anyway. He signed. Penny giggled. “I saw a few photos of one of the characters online. I like the design.” She said with a smile. “Like Noel said. Night young, we have time.” Mischa said and Constance nodded next to him. “Yeah Oce! I’m sure it’s good if Noel is recommending it.” Constance said. Ocean sighed, she was clearly outvoted. “Fine, put it on.” She muttered, flopping back on the arm chair. 

Noel pulled up Disney+ and cued up the show. Since Ocean had been complaining about watching it, she had no idea what it was called. “The Owl House.” She muttered as it started. The show opened like a normal Disney cartoon. Except for the “Eat this sucker!” line. The was out of the ordinary for a Disney show, at least to her anyway. The show seemed fine until a certain line was said. “Oh so that’s where the backup snakes went!” The main character, Luz, said after glancing outside of the principal’s office to reveal kids being chased by snakes. Ocean froze. Then she kicked Noel. 

“Noel you jerk! Did you just put this on to remind me of the snake incident!?” She snapped. Noel blinked, confused. “Uh no. This literally has nothing to do with the….Snake incident.” He trailed off at one point, glancing at the screen and then back at Ocean. “Oh my god. This IS just like the snake incident!” Noel said with a cackle. This caused Constance to start laughing and Ricky to grin like manic. Ocean blushed in embarrassment. “Shut up! It’s not that funny!” She exclaimed. “What’s the snake incident?” Penny asked and Mischa nodded. “I would also like to know what snake incident is.” He said. 

Constance snorted. “Let’s just say Ocean doesn’t have a perfect record.” She said with a smirk. Ocean groaned. “Can we please not talk about this.” She said with a sigh. No can do. The incident was the ONE time you got detention. Of course we’re gonna talk about it. Ricky signed. “Ocean got detention?” Mischa said, surprised. Noel nodded with glee. “Yup! A whole months worth to be exact.” He said in a sing song voice. “Oh we have got to hear this story now.” Penny said with a laugh. Ocean sighed.  “Fine just after the story’s finished, never speak of the incident again. Got it?” Ocean said. Mischa and Penny nodded. “Noel, I know you want to tell it so you can.” Ocean said, making Noel grin. “Thank you, darling! Anyway it all started in 10th grade….”

_______

An 15 year old Ocean skips to her Biology class. In her hands she carries a shoe box. Today it was her turn to do a report on a living creature. You had to do an essay and a model. She chose to do hers on snakes. Now most kids had done simple models but Ocean had done something better and it would be the greatest thing that St Cassian had ever seen.

Since Biology was first period for her, she had no time to waste. She got to her classroom ten minutes early and was able to confirm with her teacher that she was going first. She spent those ten minutes going over her report until the bell rang. Kids started milling in, looking tired as they did so. Ocean wasn’t offended, she knew they would be more alert when she did her report. Constance sat down next to her.

“Hey Ocean!” She said, grinning at her friend. Ocean smiled back. “Hey Constance, you ready for my report today?” She asked and Constance nodded. “I’m sure you’re gonna do great!” Constance said. “Of course I will. I always do.” Ocean said as the teacher took attendance, not noticing the slightly irritated look on Constance’s face. 

“Time for reports. Ocean you’re up first.” The teacher announced after attendance. Ocean jumped up from her seat, grabbing her report and the box that contained her “model”. She looked over the students. She only knew 3 of them properly. Ricky, Noel, and Constance. Constance was paying attention, Noel appeared to be staring off into space, and Ricky was reading a comic book.

Well at least someone she knew was paying attention. “Fellow students. Today I will tell you about snakes. But first, like always, I must show you my model.” Ocean said and opened the box. The plan was to scoop up one of the snakes she had in there and start talking about it.

However when she opened the box, Ocean realized that the snakes were missing. She had put 5 snakes in the box because they were in her backyard and she needed a model. But now there were no snakes in the box. She panicked. “Uh so slight change of plans. Everyone run.” Ocean said quickly. “Why?” Noel asked. 

“Because the 5 live snakes I brought in as my model are missing.” Ocean said carefully, trying to remain calm. Silence fell over the room before someone screamed. This lead to everyone running out of the classroom, Ocean included. 

“Miss. O’Connell Rosenberg! My office now!” The principal announced after the teacher filled him in. Ocean gulped. This wasn’t good. “Sit down.” He said when she walked in. Ocean sat. “I have been told that you’re the reason why I saw a snake in the teachers lounge and why half of our students are running around screaming?” He said sternly. Ocean started crying. “Please sir! I didn’t mean to! Please don’t expel me!” She wailed. The principal looked at her alarmed. 

“You’re not getting expelled child. Your record is clean so there is nothing that would get expelled with this. However, I do have to give you a punishment.” He said, making Ocean blink. “Oh. So what’s my punishment?” She asked. “A month of detention.” He said simply.

Ocean sighed. At least it was better than expulsion. 

________

“And that’s the story of how Ocean got detention!” Noel finished. Mischa was laughing while Penny looked deep in thought. “Wait os Ocean the reason why we can’t bring in live animals?” She asked and Noel nodded. “Yes, I think so.” He said and Penny laughed. “Congratulations Ocean, you officially had a rule made because you.” She said and Ocean rolled her eyes. 

“Yes yes. And now let’s never speak of it again.”

[talyns-fanfics]

Her and The Sea

Kingdom Hearts

Sora x OC

Just a fun little indulgence for MerMay. Also, I planned to have this out when the new The Little Mermaid movie drops.

I’m taking liberties with the lore of mermaids and sirens.

Mermaids and Sirens don’t exist. Even if they did, there’s no reason why they would live around the Destiny Islands. The water is too shallow that they’d couldn’t get anywhere close to the main island and the people living there. No one talked about them, so much that the idea of mythical sea creatures fade into obscurity. It was just that; Myths.

No one ever told Sora nor his peers about the myths of aquatic life. No use in telling these kids something that doesn’t exist. It wasn’t until his friend Riku started claiming that he saw something out on the horizon during sundown. He claims it was a couple of mermaids jumping out of the water and diving in like dolphins. Sora decides to take a walk near the shore of the main island one day, and that’s when he saw it.

Two mermaids jumping out of the water and diving back into the water just as Riku described. It was a beautiful sight. Riku just described it as cool, but Sora sees it as a once in a lifetime phenomenon. The most beautiful sight he’s ever seen.

After the sunset, he decided it was time for him to return home. As he turn to leave, he sees Aqua and her daughter Xatlyn drying themselves off in towels before rushing back into town. He heads back home himself, but wondered why his best friend (other than Riku) was out at night with her mother. They didn’t even look like they were wearing swimsuits, which was even weirder.

The next day, Xatlyn wasn’t at school. This was weird to Sora, considering that it was the beginning of the school year and Xatlyn was out. After school, he heads to Xatlyn’s parents house, knocking on the door. Terra opens the door.

“Good afternoon, Sora.”

“Good afternoon, Terra. Xatlyn wasn’t at school today. Is there a reason?”

Terra’s smile drops, he changes the topic. “It’s best for you that you stop being friends with her. And, for your safety, stay away from the shore without backup.” He closes the door without giving Sora the time to react.

Sora ignores Terra’s pleas to stay away from the shore. He hears a melodious tune off towards the ocean. It was a beautiful tune, so beautiful he had to hear it clearer. Before he set one foot into the ocean, he was harshly brought back to the shore, getting snapped out of the trance.

“Sora, what were you thinking?” Riku asks him.

Sora blinks a second as his mind clears. Was he under someone’s spell? “What just happen?” He asks Riku.

“You almost walked into the water. I tried calling to you, but you couldn’t hear.”

Sore listens to Riku, but turns back to the ocean. “Riku, do you believe in Mermaids.”

“Mermaids don’t lure people to their death. What that was, could be a Siren.” Riku responds. Sora turns back to Riku as he continues. “Sirens, at least in the myths, lure the hearts of men into the sea with their voices. They can only be heard by their intended victims.”

“But, why would a Siren want to go after me?” Sora asks Riku, who shrugs.

“There are many reasons a Siren would choose a specific person.” Riku says. “Romance, food, killing. They never really explained it in the books I’ve read.”

Sora quickly changes the topic to poke fun at Riku. “You read now?” He smirks.

Riku scoffs. “Ok, Xatlyn read it and told me about it.” He says. “Someone read it, I know it, who cares what happens in the middle?!”

The two share a laugh before deciding to head back to the main islands, not taking notice to the pair of eyes peering at them over the ocean.

After about a week, Xatlyn returned to school, but avoided Sora and Riku. Riku didn’t think anything of it and just chalked it up to Xatlyn needing her space, but Sora wanted to know what was up with her.

After school, he notices her heading towards the shore. He rushes after her. He sees her wrapping a towel around herself and taking off her bottoms before taking her shirt off, a makeshift seaweed top wrapped around her torso. She starts walking towards the sea. Sora rushes after her.

He catches up to her before she gets too deep into the water. He grabs a hold of her wrist, making her turn around. She feels pain in her abdomen, clutching onto herself. She falls into the ocean, accidentally dragging Sora down with her. Sora let’s go of her and tries to keep air in his system. He looks over to Xatlyn, who was panicking, hands to her hair and body curled up into a ball.

“No!” She yells. “Not now! Not with him here!” Her hands then clutch on her stomach as her legs painfully transform into a pink tail. The towel that was wrapped around her lower half unfurled in the ocean.

Sora was shocked. Mermaids are real and he found one. Before he could react anymore, he started suffocated. He passes out in the sea.

He wakes up on the secluded island, where he and his friends usually play. He sits up, looking over to Xatlyn, still in her mermaid form, sitting in the very shallow water.

“I didn’t want you to find out.” Xatlyn tells Sora. “Even if I did, I didn’t want you to catch me mid-transformation.” She doesn’t notice that Sora had gotten up and walked up to her. He sits down next to her.

“Why not?” He asks.

“I’m ok with being a mermaid.” Xatlyn explains. “It’s just, when the tides get stronger, I turn into something darker. Something even more sinister.” She visibly shudders at the idea.

He connects the dots. “A Siren?” She nods, turning away from him. He then remembers what happened almost a week ago. He asks her about the time he almost drowned because of a Siren. “Xatlyn, would you know who it was?”

She slightly curled up on herself. “That… was me.” This confuses him. “Sirens mostly don’t have control over their actions, but you were on my mind for a while now and my Siren wanted you for herself. I’m lucky Riku pulled you away when he did.” Sora takes a moment as she continues. “I was alone in my misery, and to your heart I had to-” She stops, feeling ashamed of herself.

Sora gently takes one of her hands in his own. “I’m not sure if I’m still under your spell, but I actually do love you.”

She finally looks him in his eyes. They weren’t her Siren’s yellow color. They were his normal sea blue hue. She softly smiles at him, relaxing her arms and tail. The two stay silent for a moment before he reaches his unoccupied arm around her middle and she curls up against him.

“Xatlyn, how are we gonna get back?” Sora asks, accidentally ruining the moment. Xatlyn groans at the question.

A month since, Xatlyn had disappeared again, worrying Sora. The ocean was calm last night, she couldn’t have turned into a Siren. He knew he couldn’t ask Terra or Aqua what happened, they’d just tell him to stay away from Xatlyn. One day, while walking home from school, he catches a glimpse of Ventus. Ventus realizes that Sora was nearby and made a break for it.

Sora backs Ventus into corner. “Ok, man. Fess up. I know you know what’s going on with Xatlyn. Please tell me.”

Ventus breaks. “You got me. Xatlyn made a deal with a Sea Witch. She gave up her voice, but we don’t know why. Me and her parents are looking for a way to get her voice back without breaking the deal.”

Sora takes it all in before responding. “Let me help you guys.”

Ventus shakes his head. “If I’d let you, I’d never hear the end of it from Terra and Aqua.” He explains. “Trust me, Xatlyn is safe. She’ll be back sooner than you know it.” The two part ways, none of Sora’s worries were cleared.

About a week after his conversation with Ventus, Sora finds Xatlyn near the shore on an isolated rock, looking towards the sea. Sora makes his way towards her.

The water was shallow enough so Sora could just walk over to her. She turns away, but doesn’t make a move to leave him.

“Ventus told me everything.” Sora says, crossing his arms. “But, why would you go to a Sea Witch?”

“I didn’t want to hurt you. I didn’t want her to hurt you.” Xatlyn explains. Sora finally understood what was happening. Xatlyn was protecting him from herself.

“But, you have your voice, now.” Sora points out. “The deal must have been finished, right?”

“No. My parents and Ventus took my place in the deal. Xehanort has them now, and I’m not sure how to continue on from here.”

Sora sits on the rock, next to Xatlyn. He was just as lost as her.

I’m ending this angsty because I don’t know how to end it. Maybe I’ll make a part 2.

[blitzendoggo]

5 Times Mercury Was a Flirt (+1 Time He Was Flirted With)

Captain Mercury is an overly friendly man. In most cases, this is a good thing, but when your entire friend group thinks you're flirting with them, there is a small issue.

In this AU, Godforce doesn’t happen, and Canyon is a “good” murder hobo.

Captain Mercury/S.G. Iguess, Captain Mercury/Mr. Goodbid, Captain Mercury/Glib Murphy, Captain Mercury/Mystery of the Canyon (5115 words)

~~

1) S.G.

“S.G.!” Mercury calls the moment they step on the ship. “Where have you been?”

“What do you mean?” They ask as the rest of their party boards the ship dispersing across the deck.

Mercury waltzes up to them, crushing them into a tight hug before releasing them, standing a little closer than he normally does. “You weren’t with the others for the last two missions! I was worried about you!”

“Worried about me?” they ask, suddenly very thankful that changelings can’t blush easily.

“Yeah, I heard you were sick,” the captain says with large worried eyes. “I’m glad you’re feeling better!” His smile is blinding and warm.

S.G. is wordless for a moment before sheepishly saying, “Yes, well, I had caught Goblin Fever from a group of bandits we fought. Prophis wouldn’t let me come on any missions until I was over it.”

“So, it’s him I have to blame?” Mercury teases before taking a more serious tone. “I’ve caught that before. It’s right awful with the shakes and the dazedness. I’m glad you made it out alright.” There’s a moment’s pause before he says, “I’d even argue that you look better than ever after it if that’s even possible!”

“I Do?”

Mercury nods. “Yeah, your skin is practically glowing,” he says with a sweet smile, tilting his head to the side as admires the shorter.

“I love flattery, but there’s no need,” they titter.

“But I mean it!” Mercury laughs, gesturing widely with his hands. “You always look so pretty! I’m beginning to suspect magic is at play,” he teases.

S.G. shakes their head, a blush certainly painting their face. “No magic, just me.”

“Smooth, S.G., smooth,” Glib teases from across the deck.

“Shut up!” they snap, sending a glare his way before looking back at the merman.

Mercury laughs, not having heard the exchange between the friends. “Really? You’re not hiding some sort of charm under that hood?”

“No, why would I hide anything under the hood?” S.G. responds automatically, naturally bad at flirting. From somewhere else on the ship, they hear the boys snicker and the changeling makes a mental note to Psychic Lance the three of them when they get the chance.

“So no one would learn your secret,” Mercury counters easily. He reaches up and stops his hand just next to the edge of their hood. “May I?”

“Sure,” they squeak.

The captain gently pulls the hood back, smoothing the purple fabric. He studies their face, a twinkle in his eye. “Well, my apologies for the accusations.”

“Why? Do you think I’m not pretty?” the changeling challenges, a ball of anxiety forming in their stomach.

Mercury laughs a high, warm sound. “No, because clearly, your beauty is natural.”

“Oh,” they squeak, voice becoming steadily higher the longer they stand near the merman.

“So, I apologize for accusing you of using magic,” he continues with a smile, not paying any mind to the fact that S.G. has become a red mannequin.

Mercury does not move from their personal space as his hand lingers around their neck, idly playing with the fabric of their hood. He smiles so kindly and S.G. is certain that this is how they die.

“Apology accepted,” they say breathlessly.

“Ya know, with the way your face blushes,” he says lowly, dropping his head down to be next to the changeling’s ear, “I’d love to see how the rest of looks.” He ghosts his fingers across their collar while the other runs up their arm.

S.G. fully freezes, completely unable to respond as their brain comes to a screeching halt. Their brain is running impossibly fast while also being completely silent, but Mercury does not mind as he leans back and admires the suddenly dark blush that paints the changeling’s face.

Thankfully, before S.G. can say anything too embarrassing, Canyon slides up next to the Captain, drawing his attention away from the slowly dying changeling.

“Hiya, fish boy!” he says, clapping Mercury on the shoulder.

“Canyon!” the captain cheers. “I was just talking to S.G. here!”

Canyon gives S.G. a once over, a smirk on his face. “I can tell.”

Mercury tilts his head to the side. “What do you mean by that?”

The tabaxi snickers. “Nothing,” he says while shaking his head before loudly saying, “When are we leaving for Bowenburg?”

“Oh, well, right now, I suppose,” he says with a chuckle. He flashes S.G. that same blinding smile. “Can’t keep the lovely people waiting, can we?”

“No,” they choke out.

With a laugh, Mercury walks back to the helm, a skip in his step as he whistles a familiar sailing tune.

Canyon waits until the merman is out of earshot before saying, “You’re shit at flirting.”

They smack him on the back of the head, knocking the cat man forward as he laughs.

*

2) Goodbid

To say Goodbid was having a bad day, would be an understatement. He’s had two contracts go sour; his suit effectively ruined from a combination of holes, blood, and wine stains; a hit nearly escaped; and his beloved bottom hat has a hole the size of Glib in it. All within the last twelve hours. And if Goodbid had to rank how bad this day was compared to the other seven days of this week? It is probably in third place.

He stands on Sky Skimmer’s top deck, leaning heavily against the rails as he watches the world rush by. Mercury had been kind enough to pick him up from his solo mission in Abellio and fly him back to Riftreach.

“You look like hell, mate,” the aforementioned captain says from behind him.

“Bad week,” the hitman replies simply, not in the mood for their normal playful banter.

The merman leans against the railing next to Goodbid, a little closer than the hitman was expecting. “Anything I can do to help?” he asks, leaning closer to the half-elf, glancing at his lips as he does.

“Uh, I don’t believe so,” Goodbid says, the tension in the air increasing tenfold.

Wordlessly, Mercury reaches up, his fingers grazing up the businessman’s neck before using his thumb to smooth his mustache into place while he cups his jaw.

“Mercury?” Goodbid asks breathlessly and only slightly panicked.

Mercury slowly looks away from his mouth and makes heavy eye contact. “Sorry, mate, it was sticking up all weirdly,” he says lowly, not removing his hand from his face.

Goodbid swallows. “It’s alright.” He can feel the blush running up his neck and settling high on his cheeks.

Mercury traces the blush down his neck with his fingers, stopping at the hitman’s stained collar.

“You’re hurt?”

It takes Goodbid an embarrassing few seconds to register what is being said to him.

“Just a few cuts, nothing I can’t handle,” he says, with a shaky smile as he desperately holds onto what’s left of his dignity.

Mercury runs the tips of his fingers along the largest of the stains before bringing them to his face. His tongue darts out and licks the thin red liquid off his fingers before grinning at Goodbid. “You taste like wine.”

The hitman makes a choked noise. “I- uh- had a jug of- um- wine dumped on me. Yeah,” he sputters, running a hand through his hair as he looks away.

Mercury places a hand on Goodbid’s cheek and forces him to look him in the eye. “Are you telling me that you have wine spilled over open wounds and you didn’t clean them?” Mercury asks with mild annoyance.

“I- well, I-” He coughs looking down before saying, “I don’t got spare clothes on here and I was gonna wait until I got home.”

“I have clothes you can borrow,” Mercury says dismissively. He steps back and Goodbid takes a shuttering breath. “Are you coming?” Mercury teases as he walks to the captain’s quarters.

The hitman nearly trips over himself as he scrambles to keep up.

The captain's quarters are decorated in deep greens and blues with a messy dark wood desk along one wall and a beautiful bed in the center of the far wall.

“Just sit on the bed and take off your shirt,” Mercury instructs as he walks over to a drawer and pulls out a med kit. Goodbid unbuttons his shirt slowly, wincing as the motions pull at the cuts on his chest. When Mercury turns around he looks over Goodbid’s freshly exposed chest with interest.

“Enjoying the view?” Goodbid teases, rolling his shoulders back before wincing at the subsequent pain.

Mercury snickers at him as he hands over a minor healing potion. “Drink this while I patch you up.”

The potion doesn’t taste pleasant, but it is a welcomed distraction from Mercury's cool hands touching his bare chest as he cleans the wounds with a wet rag before moving to cleaning them with rubbing alcohol.

Goodbid hisses, grabbing onto Mercury’s shoulders as he cleans out a cut that was borderline infected.

“That’s it,” Mercury murmurs, clearly not paying attention to his own words. “You’re doing good, almost done.”

Goodbid makes a noise in the back of his throat, this time not from the cleaning, as Mercury continues to whisper praises while he wraps the cuts tightly. The merman steps back to admire his handy work before going over to a trunk and pulling out a clean shirt. He starts to hand Goodbid the shirt before pulling it back, clearly contemplating something.

“What? Am I not allowed to have a shirt?” Goodbid teases.

“Let me put it on you,” Mercury answers as he steps closer.

The injured man sputters. “Pardon?”

“You’ll strain yourself trying to pull it over your head,” he explains easily as he stands in front of the other. “Lift your arms a little.”

Goodbid does as he’s told, pointedly ignoring the bright red blush painting his face. Mercury easily pulls it onto him before smoothing it down the hitman’s chest. Before either of them can say anything, the boards under their feet rumble.

“Sky Skimmer’s tellin’ me to go back up to steer her,” the captain explains apologetically. “She’s sayin’ we’re almost to port.”

“It’s alright,” Goodbid says with his signature grin, although on the inside he is more than a little annoyed at the interruption.

Mercury disappears out the door, calling, “Stay put, don’t strain yourself!” over his shoulder as he goes. Goodbid sits in a stunned silence as he tries to make sense of everything that just happened. By the time he’s made any progress, the merman pokes his head in with a smile that damn near kills the hitman where he sits. “We’re here.”

Goodbid nods as he stands. “When do you want this shirt back?”

Mercury approaches him slowly and runs his fingers along the hem of the shirt before he gives Goodbid a knowing smile. “Keep it,” he says as he steps back, “It looks good on you.”

Goodbid’s blush returns with a vengeance as the captain goes back out of the room, leaving the poor hitman reeling.

*

3) Glib

The frogman sits alone in the storeroom of Sky Skimmer. He’s starving and desperately trying to keep his thoughts away from anything to do with eating which he is failing at rather spectacularly. Glib groans, running a hand over his face.

The clicking of approaching steps draws him out of his thoughts.

“Everything okay, mate?” Mercury asks as he walks past, carrying a crate that easily weighs as much as the merman.

Glib gives him the signature unamused glare as he says, “No.”

Mercury places the crate in its place before sitting on it and looking over at Glib. “What’s wrong then?”

“I’m really fuckin’ hungry. I forgot to eat before getting on this stupid fucking’ ship,” he growls before wincing and saying, “No offense.”

Mercury chuckles, patting the crate. “Nontaken, but if you’re hungry I have rations.”

Glib shakes his head. “Can’t have normal food,” he dismisses quickly. “Vampire, remember?” He flashes his fangs to prove the point.

Mercury watches his fangs with apt interest. “Do you not have any rations?”

“Not unless you happen to carry blood,” Glib says irritatedly. He buries his face in his hands as he groans. He is the King of Hangry and desperately wants to be left alone.

Mercury is silent for a moment before saying, “You could drink from me.”

“What?” Glib’s head snaps up in shock, staring at the merman in disbelief. Surely, he didn’t just say that, surely he misheard.

“Unless you don’t like drinking from live sources,” the sailor backpedals quickly.

“No, I do,” Glib says slowly, confusion lacing every word, “But why are you offering.”

Mercury stands up, his wooden legs creaking as he does. “You are hungry, and you don’t have rations.” With every step, he is getting closer to Glib. “As your captain, it is my job to make sure you are provided for.” His voice is low as his hands trail up to the laces holding his shirt closed.

“You’ll lose a lot of blood,” Glib says quickly, eyes tied to the movement.

“I have healing potions.” He pulls the string out.

“It could kill you,” Glib says a little more desperately as his mouth waters.

The merman chuckles. “You won’t kill me.” His eyes are half-lidded as he looks down on Glib, completely confident in him.

“It’ll make you too dizzy to steer,” Glib says in a last-ditch effort to make Mercury come to his senses.

“Sky Skimmer’s a living ship, and besides-” he pulls his shirt to the side, revealing his suntanned, freckled shoulder. “I’ve always liked that feeling.”

Glib gulps, but his eyes do not leave the bare skin. “Are you sure?”

“Very.” Mercury leans closer until his shoulder is closer to Glib’s mouth. “Bite me, Glib.”

And Glib does. He drinks, savoring the delicious liquid before forcing himself back after a minute. He doesn’t want Mercury to drop.

“Done already?” Mercury groans as he pants lightly. At some point, he had leaned further forward and had grabbed ahold of the crate Glib was sitting on. His knuckles were white with how tightly he was grasping it.

“Don’t want to kill you,” Glib says through his fogged brain.

Mercury smiles. “Aw, that’s too bad. It was just starting to get fun.” He leans closer to Glib’s face and uses his thumb to wipe a bit of blood off of the frog’s lip. “But I need to get back to the stern.”

He steps back and walks to the door, straightening his shirt as he goes.

“Oh, and Glib?” He says over his shoulder as he stops in the doorway.

“Yeah?” the frog asks, still reeling from the entire experience.

“If you need a snack, you know where to find me.” Mercury smiles and winks before disappearing through the door, leaving Glib extremely confused and just a little hungry.

*

4) Canyon

In hindsight, going drinking with a man Canyon had never once seen drunk might have been a mistake. He had assumed that Mercury would have a high tolerance seeing as he’s a sailor, but he could not have been more wrong.

Here Mercury was, half draped across the cat man, drunkenly singing “What Can We Do With a Drunken Sailor” while petting the Tabaxi as the aforementioned cat man tries to get them both to Sky Skimmer.

“Way-hay and up she rises, Ear-lye in the morning!” he slurs, throwing his hands up in the air. “Put ‘em in bed with-” he trails off, trying to remember the lyrics.

“Captain’s daughter,” Canyon supplies.

Mercury laughs before shouting, “Tabaxi man!” He looks up at Canyon with a grin. “Put ‘em in bed with a tabaxi man! Put ‘em with a tabaxi man! Ear-lye in the morning!”

“Are you trying to get me into bed with you?” Canyon teases, readjusting his hold on the merman which just happens to drop his hand lower on Mercury’s waist.

Mercury laughs but does not answer as he sings the chorus, Canyon joining in after a minute. They cackle and carry on as they stumble down the street, Sky Skimmer in sight.

“What’s the next lyric, Merc?” Canyon asks once his laughter has died down.

The Captain thinks for a moment before grinning madly as he says, “Make him kiss the roguish man!” At first, Canyon thinks he’s misheard the Captain, but then he repeats it. “Make him kiss the roguish man!”

“Make him kiss the roguish man?” the cat asks without the song cadence.

“Ear-lye in the morning!” Mercury finishes while laughing. He sobers slightly as he asks, “What time you say it is?” He looks up at the dark sky.

Sky Skimmer spots them and she happily waves her sails before lowering a plank for them to walk up. Mercury mumbles a thanks as they step onto the deck.

Canyon glances up at the sky, trying to spot the moon as he navigates the drunk man to his quarters. “I don’t know, probably three or four in the morning?”

Mercury grins widely before pressing his face into Canyon’s cheek. “So it's ‘ear-lye in the morning’?”

“It is,” the tabaxi says slowly.

“And I’m a drunken sailor?” Mercury continues, leaning harder into Canyon,

“You are,” Canyon agrees with a smirk.

“Are you a roguish tabaxi man?”

Canyon snickers. “I am.”

“Then I demand a kiss ear-lye this morning,” Mercury declares, kissing Canyon’s cheek before stumbling backward, hand locked around the tabaxi’s wrist. “And for you to come to bed with me!”

“Mercury you’re drunk,” Canyon laughs, following behind him.

The merman nods. “I’m a drunken sailor!”

“And that’s why I can’t go to bed with you,” Canyon says digging his heels into the ground.

“Aww,” Mercury pouts at him.

Canyon chuckles. “If you remember any of this in the morning, I’ll be more than happy to take you up on your offer,” he says, running his claws through Mercury’s disheveled hair.

Mercury makes a pitiful noise before sighing dramatically. “Fine.”

Canyon steps back, flashing Mercury a smile. “Night, Merc, and good luck with your hangover!” he says as he walks off the ship. He faintly hears a slurred response followed by stumbling steps into the captain’s quarters. Canyon snickers to himself as he wanders back through the streets before he begins to hum “Drunken Sailor.”

*

5) All of them

“Mornin’ guys!” Mercury shouts from the helm as he steers Sky Skimmer to the edge of Symmetris Tower. The Party yells back varying responses before boarding. “Where to?”

“Wanuia, if ya believe!” Goodbid says far too chipperly for this early in the morning, as he boards the ship, the rest tiredly lumbering behind him.

Mercury turns the ship and sets her on a straight shot for his old city before walking down to talk with the party. “Wanuia, ‘ey? What business you got up there?” he asks.

“Rumors of some sort of powerful necromancers wandering the outskirts and tormenting people,” Glib explains, tugging his hood down over his eyes as Sky Skimmer emerges from clouds, the morning sun casting long shadows over the deck.

“Why send you guys and not Symmetris Agents?” the Captain asks.

“Prophis made us one of the highest-ranking Symmetris squadrons,” Canyon explains as he stretches, still trying to shake the sleep from his system, and smoothes down his hair which is sticking up oddly.

S.G. nods. “It was meant to be an honor but all it's done is mean that we can’t commit crimes and have to work for the government,” they gripe.

“But it pays handsomely,” Goodbid says with a grin.

“It does pay nice, yes,” S.G. agrees. “But I would like to steal again.”

“Why don’t you quit?” Mercury asks, tilting his head to the side like a dog.

The changeling makes a sour face while the boys snicker. “Callisto said if I quit to commit crimes he will arrest me on sight.”

There is a beat of silence before the merman belly laughs. “Of course he did, why wouldn’t he?”

“Yes, it was quite rude of him,” S.G. grumbles.

“Alright, well,” Mercury begins as he tries to regain composure. “How long do I need to wait on you guys? Do I have time to run a delivery from Abellio to Riftreach and back to Wanuia or will you be done by that point?”

“We’ll be done by then,” Glib answers.

“Yeah, they seem like normal necromancers,” Canyon adds once he doesn’t look like a toddler’s stuffed animal. “Won’t take us more than like two, three hours.”

“So we’ll the rest of the day to kick it at the beautiful Wanuaian beaches!” Goodbid says, pantomiming lounging on a beach.

“You’ll be at the beaches, I’ll be hiding somewhere dark,” Glib gripes.

Mercury shakes his head. “There are beaches that are hidden in alcoves. They are warmed by the mornin’ sun, but by noon the sun is off of them! The water is clear, the sand is warm, but the sun is gone,” the Merman says, gesturing wildly with his hands.

“Really?” Glib questions, clearly trying to keep the hopeful tone from his voice.

“Absolutely! They were my favorite growin’ up because no one else likes them. Most people go to Wanuia to sun tan, but those hidden beaches are nice,” Mercury says with a charismatic grin.

“We’ll have to find somewhere that sells swimsuits first,” Canyon points out. “The only one here who might have one is Goodbid.”

“Would ya believe I actually don’t?” Goodbid asks.

“No, I don’t,” the tabaxi counters sarcastically.

Mercury makes a confused expression. “Why would you need a swimsuit?”

“Because we’ll be swimming?” Canyon answers.

“Yeah, not all of us are merfolk,” Goodbid teases.

“I could be,” S.G. says cockily.

Glib gives them a tired expression. “We know, S.G.”

“I can be anything I want.”

“We know S.G.”

“I know you aren’t merfolk,” Mercury says, drawing attention back to the original point. “But why would you need swimsuits?”

The group glances at each other.

“Because that’s what you wear when you are swimming?” Glib says, confusion lacing his words.

“Yeah, but it’ll just be the five of us,” Mercury still not understanding.

“The five of us swimmin’,” Goodbid emphasizes.

“Yeah, but if it's just us, why not just skinny dip?” Mercury finally spits out, eyebrow raised.

“Skinny dip?!” Goodbid yelps as Glib says, “Excuse me?!” and S.G. squeaks, “What?!” There’s a beat of silence before Canyon starts laughing.

“Yeah, guys, let’s just skinny dip!” he says, nudging Mercury with his elbow.

Mercury smiles at him. “See, he gets it.”

“Mercury, I love ya, man, but I ain’t skinny dippin’,” Goodbid says quickly before Canyon can dig their graves anymore.

“Why not? I’m sure it’d be fine,” the merman says. “Besides, you’ll be seeing all of me, only fair if I see all of you.” He pauses before grinning as he adds lowly, “It's more fun that way.”

S.G. chokes on air, Goodbid flushes to the tips of his ears, and Glib’s jaw drops, but Canyon just nods slowly.

“Maybe next time, dude,” Canyon says. “Gotta give them time to prepare.”

“So you’ll be skinny dipping with me then?” the merman asks hopefully.

The others yell varying rejections over the sound of Canyon’s laughter. None of them notice Mercury’s confused face.

*

+1

Mercury really didn’t see anything wrong when the group suddenly has a fifth member. He finds it a little odd that it is a shadar-kai who looks older than dirt with no eyes, but his friends are an odd group so he just waves it off and welcomes the old man aboard the ship.

“Alright, crew!” He calls to the deck as he pulls Sky Skimmer away from Bowenburg. “Where to?”

“Riftreach!” Glib yells as Goodbid calls up, “Home!”

Mercury laughs. “Homeward bound!” He steers the ship for a moment, making sure they were on a straight enough shot before looking back over the deck and noticing how ill the old man looks. He slows the ship to a more reasonable speed and the shadar-kai relaxes slightly.

Canyon bounds up behind him, putting his hand on the merman’s waist and sliding up close to him. “Why the speed drop?” he asks as he examines the air around them.

“You’re friend down there-”

“Friend is a strong word,” Canyon gripes.

“You’re friend down there,” Mercury continues with a smile, leaning into the tabaxi. “Doesn’t look too good, I’m slowing it down so he doesn’t get sick on my deck.”

Canyon flexes his claws, not biting into the scales of his hips, but grazing his nails across them. “I think you are too nice to him.”

“No, I’m just looking out for my ship,” he remarks, gingerly placing his hands near the collar of the cat’s shirt. He fixes the fabric, smoothing out the wrinkles before stepping back.

The rest of the party stands in the middle of the open deck. The captain gives them all a quick once over but his gaze lingers on Goodbid, or rather his shirt.

“I told you, you like nice in my clothes,” Mercury teases as he and Canyon reenter the group.

“Huh?” Glib questions, looking between them, trying to decipher whatever coded language they are using.

“That-” Mercury points to Goodbid’s chest. “Is my shirt. I’m just glad he still likes it.”

S.G. huffs. “Goodbid gets your shirt and I don’t?” they ask in a mock hurt tone.

Mercury chortles. “You can go into my trunk and get any of my shirts you like,” he says gesturing to the captain’s quarters.

“Really?” S.G. asks, trying, and failing, to hide their excitement.

“Of course,” he nods. “I think all of you would look nice in my clothes. They’d be baggy and practically fall off of you.”

The old man laughs, drawing Mercury’s attention for the first time.

Mercury turns to look at him before extending his hand with a good-natured smile. “I don’t believe we’ve met! I’m Captain Mercury.”

The shadar-kai shakes his hand a little too vigorously. “King Skeezvol Skracks XIX, it’s a pleasure to meet a new subject of mine.”

“It’s nice to meet you, your majesty?” Mercury says slowly looking to the others for guidance.

“Don’t mind the old man, he’s going senile,” Canyon butts in.

“I’m not senile! If I was senile I would’ve missed your flirting!” Skeezvol snaps.

The group snickers or ducks their heads, but Mercury cocks an eyebrow. “Flirting?”

“I may be a blind old man, but I’m not deaf! I know flirting when I hear it!” he continues.

The merman looks at the others, his face pinched in confusion. “What is he going on about?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Cassanova fish man!” the old man exclaims.

“Cassanova fish man?” Mercury echoes, confusion lacing his words.

“Yeah, really, Tails, it’s fine,” Glib agrees to which the old man looks mildly irritated about for reasons that the Captain can’t even begin to fathom.

The merman snickers. “Me? A casanova?” He shakes his head. “I’m an awful flirt.”

Energy of the others around him noticeably changes.

He looks at them and they all look to be in varying states of denial or confusion. “What?” he questions.

“Mercury,” Goodbid says slowly.

“What?” he questions again.

Canyon gives him a hard look. “Are you dumb or screwing with us?”

“Screwing with you?” he parrots. “No, I’m not ‘screwing with you,’ I have no idea what’s going on.”

They look at each other, seeming to have a mental conversation before Goodbid sighs and goes, “Mercury, you’ve been flirtin’ with us since you met us.”

The captain gives them a blank expression. “No, I haven’t?”

“Yes, you have,” S.G. says.

“And for once, they aren’t gaslighting you,” Glib tacks on.

He shakes his head. “Wouldn’t I know if I was flirting with someone?” he questions.

Canyon snickers. “We thought you were doing it on purpose.”

“How?” Mercury asks, exasperated.

“When I came back after being sick, you said I must be using magic to make myself so pretty,” S.G. reminds.

“But you are very pretty!” Mercury defends. “I wasn’t flirting, I was telling the truth.”

“And you saying that you want to see us in your clothes?” Goodbid questions.

Mercury makes a semi-embarrassed noise. “Right, now, I see how that’s weird, but I just like baggy clothing.”

“What about letting me drink from you?” Glib says unamused, clearly still thinking that he is messing with them.

Mercury shrugs. “You looked miserable and I didn’t have any rations for you. It was the next best thing.”

Canyon cuts the middle man entirely, side-stepping closer to the fish man and putting a hand on his waist, pulling him into his personal space. Mercury instantly leans into the hold to which Canyon grins. “Do you even remember what you said while you were drunk?”

“No?”

The tabaxi snickers. “You basically invited me to stay the night.”

Mercury blushes to the tips of his ears. “I don’t remember doing that.”

Canyon maneuvers them slightly until their chests are pressed together. “Mmhmm,” he hums, flexing his claws slightly. Mercury reaches up and fixes the collar of his shirt before letting his hands linger again to which the cat snickers. “And what do you call this?”

Mercury looks at him oddly before seeming to understand the position that he found himself in. He turns bright red and steps back muttering, “Your collar was laying weirdly.”

“And you’re telling me that you didn’t do that on purpose?” Canyon teases, letting him go.

“No!”

The group looks at each other, having another mental conversation before they begin to grin.

“What? Mercury asks, sensing a trap.

They don’t respond as they just move around him.

“What are you doing?” He questions, trying to step back, but ends up backing into Canyon. “Guys?”

Suddenly there are hands on him, around his waist, his arms, and his shoulders, and then there are kisses. Canyon is covering his neck in kisses, Goodbid has his right cheek, S.G. has his left, and Glib is littering his wrists with soft kisses.

When they pull back, Mercury’s jaw is dropped and he sputters. There’s a moment's pause before a little bit of blood dribbles from his nose.

“You alright, Lover boy?” Skeezvol asks between his wheezing laughs.

“Yeah- I’m- uh huh,” he spits out before stumbling backward, wiping the blood on the back of his hand. “I’m gonna- yeah, I’m- I’m going to steer the- Sky Skimmer. Steer Sky Skimmer.” He pauses, still wide-eyed and bright red. “Yep.” He scurries up the stairs and holds onto her spokes for dear life as a chorus of laughs follows him up.

[gods-bound]

Half-Light, Half-Life - Chapter 11

There is a wailing. 

The noise is low and keening and threadbare, and it is loud and thunderous and screaming, and it is a howl and it is a cry and it is a voice sobbing in the dark, fingers clawing at cold stone. There is a wailing, and it sounds like whispers, sounds like a hundred and a thousand murmuring voices stacked atop one another, all speaking at once. It sounds like begging, and it sounds like crying, and it sounds like screaming, and it sounds like voices calling desperately for names that don't resolve themselves, lost as soon as they're heard.

There is a wailing, and it sounds like a voice she knows, and a hundred others she doesn't. It cries, and it murmurs songs, and it presses close, right into her very bones, and there finds a story. It sings that to her too. 

Nameless things are not inherently broken, the Daughter of Masvha had said, words scrawled in untidy lines across a page, in ink that had begun to bleed with age. Wild nameless things need no taming, they want no taming, and need no name. It's when a named thing becomes nameless that the mind breaks, and grief sets its teeth in, and all the loneliness of the world takes its bite.   

I will not tell you what crime I committed, that left me nameless, the Daughter had written, save that my hands bore blood, innocent blood, and the guilt of it threatened to consume me. Some sins cannot be forgiven, some crimes cannot be forgotten, and when a life is taken-

"-careful, don't run so fast," a laughing voice calls, and a hand catches her, balancing her before her stumble can make her really fall. Elreith looks up, and up and up, and her mother smiles at her, yellow eyes bright as the sun, bright as the stars in a veil of night, silver hair bound braids around her head. 

"Can you teach me like that too?" Elreith had asked, her hand so warm around her mother's, who's hand was so soft, so warm. Elreith hadn't noticed the fact her mother's robes were now threadbare, hadn't noticed the new exhausted slope to her shoulders, not back then. When she looked at her mother, she'd been the most beautiful thing in the world, the softest and brightest and warmest thing, every other detail paling, and all Elreith had wanted, all she'd wanted, was to be like her. 

"Please?" Elreith had asked, wheedled really, tugging at her mother's hand, her own eyes bright, and her mother hand laughed, her smile turning her face soft and glowing, and swooped down and tugged her up into her arms, the two of them spinning. "My little nightling child, my little star, of course I'll teach you-"

"-not like that, careful. You have to get the right amount of polish - we only have a limited amount, and every time we run out it means a walk all the way back to the Towercast. Yes, like that, you're getting it," Oletta nods her head sharply, watching as Elreith wipes at the candelabra carefully, pale silver glinting in the torchlight. "It's hell on the wrists, after a while, polishing, but it's light work at least, less likely to leave you with a stooped back than hauling the buckets for the mopping. Wait until you're a bit bigger for that one, I think. How old are you again, girl?" 

Elreith opened her mouth to reply and-

Cheek stinging, tears prickling the corner of her eyes as Elreith tightens her hands in her lap and drops her head even low, bowing as low as she can go, not daring to say another word. The master scholar stands before her, purple robes seeming to bruise in the pale green light as he glares at her, pale face set into a harsh and disapproving stare. "Watch yourself next time, and hold your tongue. Back enough that we have to see your ilk here, let alone hear them - keep your barbarian whispers to yourself," he snaps, shooting her one last cold look before turning and gliding away, footsteps loud.

Elreith draws in a quiet breath, throat aching, and trembling fingers rise to carefully touch her cheek, butterfly soft, feeling her throat close as the sting makes her jerk her fingers away, cheek already threatening to bruise. Why, she wants to ask. Why, why, why? She was only singing. She was only singing, she just wanted to make the time go faster-

Tears spill over, and Elreith doesn't make a single noise at all, hands clenched tight together. Tears trickle down her cheeks, and it hurts, it hurts. Not her face, not her bruises. It hurts bone deep, in her chest, like a life between her ribs, a black ache twisting in her chest, stomach gone hollow and heavy. Why, she thinks, again and again. Why, why why- 

The dark shadow of eyes behind a veil, beautiful and glimmering, and yet the air around them is cold as ice. Their voice is ice too, all cold water, flat and placid. "Throw it out with the rest."

Feet turn, and their train drags on the floor, so much heavy brocaded silk scraping on the stone, and Elreith's hand reaches, it reaches, fingers outstretched, hand trembling. She reaches, and blood drips from her fingers, sloughing off to reveal pale bone, articulate joints stained red with bleeding slick, fingers still reaching, skeletal. And Elreith opens her mouth, opens her mouth to plead, to beg, to scream, and all that comes out is a wail-

Please, please, no. Help me, please-

The whispers come, and they are keening, and they are murmuring, and they are singing, and they are howling, an hundred thousand insubstantial hands reaching for her through the dark, voices overlapping in a cacophony, Elreith caught, unable to even flinch from the noise. 

Closer, and closer they press, voices crowding in, hungry and furious and snarling. They'll consume her entirely, the slick feeling of a preyed upon fear spilling through her, rabbit hearted, as they press in, in, so hungry, so furious- 

And then- 

'One of us,' a voice says, quiet, so soft, child-like, and for a moment that voice is all that Elreith hears, all other noise drowned out. There's a soft touch, like a hand upon her brow, as insubstantial as shadow, so kind, so gentle. 'This one might be one of us.' 

And then the voice is gone, and the howling with it, blood turned to black rust in Elreith's mouth as she draws in a rasping breath. Agony is its own reality, cutting jagged panes through her body, fault lines that have fractured her being, and it consumes her, it consumes her, the simple act of drawing in that small breath enough to make her almost slip back down into the darkness. 

The world is a fractured thing, lost in the sharp-sour tang of blood and the rasping rattle as she draws in a wheezing breath, the world shadowed and dark. Sensation comes back to her in fragments. Scent first - the stench of rot, of char, of blood turning rancid in the open air. Light following. Sight - eyelids shifting, a pale glow in the distance, so soft, so faint, so fragile and pale.  

Darkness stretches cavernous, and high above the faintest glow of light can be seen, pale beams shining down from above, so high and distant that they fade away before ever reaching the ground, tuned pale and fleeting, leaving only a dim in their wake. In the darkness, walls of old stone rise, once made smooth by ancient hands, the rock black and perfect, but marred by age, stained by the passage of water and filth, moss consuming the stone. The walls stretch higher than can be seen, smooth stone interrupted only by the occasional carved outlet, great open mouths from which water trickles, flowing down from their spouts. 

Above, the expanse of the darkness rises, and rises, and rises, all inky gloom giving way to only the faintest pinprick of light, molded through with shadows. The bottom of the city, and the thought spins in her head, the bottom, the bottom, right at the bottom. Lower than the Middle Quarter, lower than the Lower Quarter, lower even than the Stack-Press slums, so far down that the rain doesn't even reach it. 

Fallen, fallen, fallen, a voice cries in her head, tone sobbing, the pain catching up with her now as the kind haze of the darkness falls away, Elreith sucking in a rough breath, agonized, curling in on herself. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts- 

She curls in on herself, struggling even to breath, fingers catching on cloth, dirt slick on her fingers as she sucks in a breath - rot, rot, rot, rancid, flesh gone bad - and sight meets scent in a brutal moment of comprehension as the gloom fades from her eyes enough for her to see and-

Bodies. They're piled high, in heads, corpses rising in slumped mountains, the floor of the waterways carpeted in them, the oldest bone and waterlogged fabric strewn on the floor, and more, fresher, rising in heaps, limbs bloated, skin turned ripe, the sound of utter silence a brutal counterpoint to the drip of falling water, and Elreith retches, horror churning through her gut, bile rising in her throat.

The sight- The smell- 

She presses herself back, tears streaming down her face, breath catching in her throat, only for her hand to catch something soft and solid, her head jerking around and-

Blank eyes meet her's, staring at her from a face that has gone pale and bloodless, and Elreith flinches. One body, and another, and another - no matter which way she turns, they're around her, they're underneath her, and she's lying on a heap of them, she realizes, bile rising in her throat, horror stealing her breath, lungs straining. Bodies upon bodies, slumped atop of each other in a rotting mountain, left to lie where they'd fallen - men and women, humans and Averia and Duurum folk alike, feathers and flesh and fabric all rotting together, piled hill high and -

Everywhere she looks, everywhere she touches, there's only more, fabric damp beneath her hands, slick with water, with blood, bodes gone firm underneath, and Elreith retches, tears streaming down her face, the scent of it so thick it's choking, curled over, hand fisting-

Except that it's not skin she sees, but bone. Elreith's head swims, heart frozen in her chest, gut lurching, because her hand is there, clenched in the dirt, except that it isn't her hand, not really. Her skin is gone, flesh melted away, and what remains is bone, bleached pale and still stained with red, clenched fisted.

No, she thinks numbly, white noise in her ears, because surely it can't be. Surely it can't-

Except that when she opens her fingers, that skeletal hand moves too, and Elreith jerks back, choking on a sob, almost doubling over when the movement makes her body fracture with pain, curling in on herself, gasping and crying, tears streaming down her face as fights to breath, only to flinch all over again as she realizes she's lying on a corpses back, everything beneath her bodies too, the smell of it dizzying, all rot and death and rancid festering meat-

She doesn't know how she gets herself on her feet, how she manages to get herself down, except that a blind fear and a desperate horror drives her, the journey a haze of staggering, sharp lances of pain and retching interludes as he foot sinks through some gap and sends her sprawling, still sobbing. And then her feet hit water, sinking ankle deep, touching down on solid stone, bodies all around, Elreith swaying with each step, clawing her way on and-

And it hurts. It hurts, every step an agony, Elreith swaying, barely able to keep her feet, her vision a haze of tears, darkness closing in on her vision. There are bones in the water. There are bodies in the water, broken forms gone lax and slumped, reaching arms threatening to trip her. She staggers, sobs, and then her hand is touching solid stone, and it doesn't even matter that there are still bones in the water beside her because she sinks down anyway, legs giving way underneath her, back sliding down the wall. 

Her vision is going hazy again, fading in and out, turned blurry by tears, Elreith's sobs wrenchingly loud in the silence, broken through only by the faint drip of water. Elreith doesn't remember which takes her first - the pain, the horror, or the darkness - her vision closing around her until there's nothing left. 

-

Once the world goes silent once more, the only sound once again the quiet drip of water, a hazy shadow quietly detaches itself from the wall, drifting closer. Smoke roils in the air, black and coiling, gliding over the water, no living foot there to touch ground. 

It stills there, before the slumped and broken figure of the girl, now gone silent and still, and slowly, silently, a hand forms and reaches out. 

-

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter