#implied rape

[bunnieswithknives]

Hostage Rowan deserves his own outfit 

(ALSO THE DICK JOKE ISN'T CANNON ADFGHK)

[daisy-mooon]

Spark

Whumptober 2023 Day 4: Cattle prod

-

Apollo sprinted as fast as his legs could carry him, lunging for the griffins. Calypso sat upon the female, her arms locked reassuringly around her neck, and Meg was perched anxiously on the male, all but screeching at him to hurry up, when something struck his back and he fell cleanly onto the ground.

It took him a moment to realise what it was between the stabbing, sparks of pain that set his entire body alight in familiar agony. Something he’d only briefly glanced at, something that should have been kept in the shadowed corner of the enclosure, something that should have never been used on any of the furiously anxious animals locked behind the glass let alone be in sight of them - a cattle prod.

His head was achingly warm against the sandy ground, and his eyes watered as dust swept into his face. Distantly, Apollo was aware that Meg had broken out screaming. Calypso was yelling. He could see and hear nothing of Litreyses, but he could feel something cold and metallic prick carefully at his shoulder blades, pressing his limp form firmly into the floor, before electricity wept through his spine. 

The world around him turned into a haze - it wasn’t that Apollo couldn’t see it, it was that he was physically incapable of processing the world around him. With his face in the floor, there wasn’t a lot that he could see anyway.

There was one, particularly loud cry from Calypso before he heard something huge move, before he heard the footsteps of Germani, before he heard the flapping of wings, before Meg’s wails grew more and more distant before drifting into nothingness. In some far-removed part of his mind, he allowed himself to feel relieved that she had escaped. She’d been through enough already. But still, he'd just gotten her back, he'd just gotten to see her again-

His thoughts were cut off as the prod reignited - he’d been so dazed that he didn’t even realise that it had stopped in the first place. A fresh scream tore from his lips and he mustered up only a single twitch in defence. Out of all the weapons Lityerses could have used, he had chosen to weaponise electricity. He was a master swordsman with a sword, for the love of the gods, and chose the one thing-

It buzzed again. The sparks were thick and suffocating, like being skewered by a million arrows at once. It was burning, consuming-

A pause. A relief. His skull was numb against the floor, and he let it stay there.

“I thought we were going to kill him.” The Germani were arguing with Lityerses now, no doubt some wanting revenge for their wounds, others wanting to bring him back to Commodus and get their mission over with. Apollo tried to flex his hand to see if there was any way he could try and fight back against the next weapon. His fingers barely moved.

“Well, I was.” A boot made contact with his head, nudging it in a way that wasn’t really rough, but definitely wasn’t gentle. Even that managed to hurt. “But the other two escaped with the griffins, and Commodus was very insistent on having Apollo to start with. I’d rather bring him something than nothing at all.”

Commodus wanted him? That… could mean a whole plethora of things-

“No, I don’t know what he wants with Apollo beyond making sure that he stops messing with the Triumvirate. Something about bathtubs? I didn’t ask.”

…So it meant something that would probably result in his death. That was… that was great.

“Maybe Apollo knows.” One of the Germani suggested, before helpfully kicking him in the ribs. He coughed in a way that was dry and cracked and full of pain. Had he broken his ribs? It would certainly explain the horrific burst of pain that flooded through him-

The cattle prod stabbed back into him without warning. He screamed again, something that completely drowned out the sound around him. At any other time, he would have been grateful to receive a fraction of his voice back, but now? Surrounded by Imperial guards that were intent on capturing and torturing him? It did nothing but remind him of how utterly helpless he was. 

Tears beaded out into the corners of his eyes and he clenched them shut, determined not to give the Germani, determined not to give Lityerses, any more satisfaction in his suffering then he could help. That idea was lost to him as it lifted for an aching moment of relief, before pressing gently into the flesh of his neck.

None of the guards laughed at him for the sob that rattled through him. Or at least he didn't think they did. It was hard to hear when his entire being was racked with agony, had been even when he was a god. He felt himself begin to teeter on the edge of unconsciousness.

It stopped briefly as someone began to yank his arms behind his back and clamped something cold and hard around his wrists, then began again as his hands were dropped back onto them. Apollo couldn't cry out this time, throat too choked and strained to make out anything coherent, and he let out a thick, strangled gurgle. It stopped again as similar cold things- no, they were manacles of some sort- were locked around his ankles. He tried to push his leg, tried to kick whoever was restraining him, and his body went alight with pain in retaliation. No matter how many times sparks were forced into his veins for doing something wrong, he'd never get used too it.

"That's enough." Lityerses called from the side. It stopped. Had he not been the one electrocuting him? "We need to get him out of here before the zoo opens."

"One more?"

"Well, Apollo isn't stopping you."

He felt cool metal press against the top of his skull, and lost all connection to reality as the pain hit him.

His body hurt.

Someone was dragging him across the ground. 

Something metal poked him and he twitched in fear, terrified of the cattle prods return-

The light around him burnt into an intense, glowing fury. It wasn't the warn rays of his sun, or the cool shine of his sisters moon, but harsh and blunt and interrogative.

He swore he could hear laughter.

Apollo woke up, cold, sore and aching. 

Every part of him screamed as he opened his eyes, protesting the torture they had been through- what, hours before? Days? He wasn't sure. He didn't know if he had a clock, wherever he was, and he didn't know if he had the strength to look at it even if there was one.

Right... where was he?

His eyes had opened but he hadn't bothered to look, too distant from his own body to concentrate. As he forced himself to focus, his nerves protesting even louder as he became fully aware of his body, he saw the plainest of surroundings. Fluorescent lights. Uniform white walls. A polished marble floor. The room was adorned in a golden trim. He attempted to draw comfort in the colour, a similar colour to his bow, but it left him feeling hollow and empty. 

The room was plain, yet elegant. There were no shadows at all, no dark spaces to hide and retreat into, and the intensity of the brightness convinced his eyes to ache with the rest of him. It was with this exposure that Apollo then became acutely aware that he was lying down in a hollowed out section of the floor, the perfect space for a human to lie down in. The perfect size for a large, luxurious bathtub

Oh.

Oh.

Apollo writhed, attempting to pull himself out of it immediately, but the manacles that had been pressed against him earlier kept him immobile against the freezing stone. He started to notice things around him. The fact that the top of the bathtub-like mound was taller than his head could reach. One golden, tap-like pipe at each end. The concerning lack of a drain. And, perhaps most importantly, the opening of a door. 

From his point in the floor, he couldn't see who entered. But judging by the slow, dramatic pace, he had a rather good guess as to who.

Commodus walked all the way from the door behind his head, to the end of the bathtub where his feet were shackled. He looked- he wanted to say that he looked hideous, but he couldn't. He looked stunning, like every part of the New Hercules he claimed to be. And Apollo hated it.

"Hello, Apollo." His eyes glittered in the light. They were pretty, in the way a wolf's eyes were pretty before it leapt forward to rip your throat out. What he wouldn't do to be surrounded by his sacred animal right now. "It's been quite a while now, hasn't it?"

"...Commmodus." He hated how silky his voice was whilsy his own broke in anticipating terror. He hated how incomparably gorgeous he looked. He hated how he wanted to kiss him. These were not thoughts he should be having right as he was most likely about to kill him.

His head tilted to the side and drank the sight of him in, lingering at the parts he supposed were desirable. Apollo then became intensely aware that he was still very much in the body of a teenager, and any all of his attraction was replaced by the desire to throw up. Was Commodus seeing Apollo, the four thousand year old god, or was he seeing Lester, the sixteen year old boy? He hoped to every god in every pantheon that it was not the latter.

He was snapped outside his discomfort by laughter. Commodus' laughter. "Now, now Apollo. Don't you have anything else to say? After all, it has been a couple millenia since we've last spoken. No thanks to you murdering me."

Even after that enormous stretch of time, Apollo still had every detail of that day seared into his mind. Like a painful brand you could ignore, but never forget. He shivered through the fear and looked at him straight in the eyes. "And what do you want me to say, Commodus?"

"There are a variety of things I want you to say." Commodus leaned down, slowly, and swung his legs over the side of the bathtub. His sandals skimmed the tops of his shoes. "There are a variety of things I want you to do. There are far fewer, and much more important things that I simply want from you."

…sweat began to bead at the back of his neck. Apollo forced himself not to focus on Commodus' body, but even if he hadn't had the willpower, he wouldn't have been able to feel desire for him anyway. Had he been in any other circumstance, he may have struggled, but there was something deeply uncomfortable at having him say anything… implicative whilst he was restrained at his mercy. 

"And what kind of things do you want from me?" He asked, wrists twitching against the restraints. They did not give. 

Commodus let himself bask in silence for a moment, observing the small, animal-like signals of his fear, before moving until he was sat on the side of the bathtub, at such a position that he could easily reach down and touch his face and chest. Then, slowly, he turned around and gripped something that had been lying on the floor out of his sight.

Apollo twitched against his will as he fingered the cattle prod and began to slowly, slowly press against the dip in his collarbone, right the bottom of his throat. His eyes betrayed him, displaying a look of hoarse, vengeful delight.

"I want to hear you scream." Commodus said simply, before flicking the cattle prod on.

He clamped his mouth shut almost on instinct as electricity coarsed through him, and it took every bone in his body not to immediately start pleading for mercy. This was not his father. This was not a safe person to start begging too. Another crackle raced through him and he shook, biting down hard enough that his jaw began to ache. He was fucked.

It stabbed into that hollow once again, making his muscles seize and lock up in a cruel mirror of paralysis, and Apollo clutched his eyes closed equally as hard as his mouth as he felt the first beginnings of tears form in his eyes. He wasn't even sure why he was being defiant, why he was trying to hide himself from Commodus when he very clearly had intentions of murdering him the moment this was over. Maybe seeing Meg, maybe knowing Meg was safe had inspired him to act something like her. Maybe it was the humiliation that would come with giving in. He didn't know. Though really, with the pain ripping through him, he couldn't.

A question was said above him and he remembered shaking his head weakly, already feeling the skin under his eyes dampen in preparation for tears. Commodus moved away from that spot, having decided that he wanted to know what he looked like when he was writhing from pain in another location, and poked at the side of his neck.

Apollo didn't quite scream, but he did whimper as he attempted to jerk away from it. A peal of soft, dark laughter rang out from next to him he stabbed again at the same spot and held it there. It was beyond painful. The electricity seeped into every part of him just like his father's lightning - skin, muscle, nerves and bone, nothing could be hidden from it. He could feel his ears start to ring, but he was somehow able to make out that he was talking to him about something.

Another noise curled out of his mouth before he had the time to stop it, accompanied by a smooth, sliding tear. Commodus paused. He didn't know whether to feel grateful for the pause or disgusted at his touch as he slowly wiped the tear away, balancing its remnants on the pad of his finger. 

He tsked. "Now this is the kind of reaction I want, Apollo. Don't try and hide them now, there's nothing wrong with feeling the pain of electrocution."

Apollo's mouth opened stiffly and he inhaled a shaky breath. It was interrupted by the cattle prod being forced between his teeth and his eyes flew open in a panic. He'd made a mistake. He'd made a huge, massive mistake-

He wasn't sure if he stayed fully conscious through that round, but he was very confident in the fact that he screamed. Artemis liked to tease that his screams would scare every wild creature for miles, and the memory motivated him to scream louder, somehow, as if it was possible to scare Commodus away like he was nothing more and an animal. He couldn't move. Couldn't think. Couldn't comprehend the pain. He began to inhabit the air around him, began to inhabit the bright fluorescents and the chilling marble, completely detached from his body yet somehow wailing. He started outright sobbing, wanting to plead too his father to stop, whilst drowning in the knowledge that he could make nothing but cries with Commodus having shoved the cattle prod between his teeth-

It stopped and he sunk back into reality, slowly, one piece at a time. The cattle prod was gone, leaving a sensitive jaw and aching teeth. The buzzing of electricity seemed to have dispersed, apart from lingering throbs that wrecked him in every place at once. The emperor beside him was standing up, speaking to someone, not even looking at him.

Through the corners of his eyes, blurred by tears and exhaustion, he saw Commodus scowl. He heard rather than saw the cattleprod clatter onto the floor, and he turned back to him.

"I wouldn't worry, Apollo." His eyes glimmered cruelly. "I'll be back to have a proper reunion later."

Somehow, he got the idea that a 'proper reunion' included choking him in the bathtub shaped space he was trapped in. But Commodus didn't stop to explain himself, and he didn't have the energy nor the desire to ask, and he left him tied down and battered without a second thought. 

"Apollo?"

He startled, weakly straining at the cuffs to see who was there. They were, rather annoyingly, imperial gold, and pulling did nothing but cut bruises into his skin.

"Apollo." He knew that voice, but he couldn't place it. Why couldn't he place it?

Footsteps pattered towards him, and suddenly a small, grubby face was staring down at him with huge, watering eyes. She looked like she'd seen a ghost. She looked like she'd seen someone that she'd killed.

"Meg." Apollo croaked, his voice still quiet and heavy from the electrocution, mouth not fully recovered. He realised with a shock that it left marks. Marks that Meg could see. "Meg, what are you-"

In a second, her scimitars hard twirled into her hands and were slicing through the restraints like they were butter. In a second, tiny, chubby hands were yanking at the unhurt areas of his arms, pulling him upwards and out of the floor. In a second, all of the pain in the world didn't matter. Meg was there.

He then panicked, because Meg was there. Had Commodus captured her? His voice strained with panic. "What are you doing here?"

She sniffed and buried her face into his shoulder without second thought, arms wrapping around him both tight enough that she felt like she would never let go, and gentle enough that it felt like she was treating him like the most fragile sculpture in the world. The space around him seemed to dissolve as she cried, sobs racking her entire body. No shout, no scream, no death, not even the end of the world could have been enough to distract him from this moment.

"I left you." Meg whispered, curling into him. "I left you."

"Meg, what-" someone came running into the room and he tensed, wrapping his arms around her as tightly as possible, terrified of someone taking her away. "Oh my gods, Apollo-?"

He was distantly aware of Leo's face coming into view, joined quickly by two silver adorned girls, all three wearing faces of shock and horror. He must have looked like shit, and vainly, he allowed himself to feel just the smallest bit relieved that they were worried about him. But that wasn't important. What was important was that Meg was here, Meg was right here and he wasn't letting her go-

"We need to move. The rest of the Hunters are fighting Commodus' forces." One of the girls said quickly. He blinked. They were Hunters of Artemis. Apollo started crying just as hard as Meg. "Valdez, you grab one arm. Tana, you grab the other-"

She began cutting away at the restraints at his ankles, as Leo and the Hunter (Tana, he assumed) slowly tried to coax him and Meg apart. He, for the most part, ignored them and sobbed with her, burying his face into the top of her head and whispering reassurances into her ear.

"I'm not leaving you again." She protest as Leo slowly prised her off of him, displaying distraught, bloodshot eyes that matched in colour with the frames of her glasses. "I'm not-"

"You won't have too." He whispered back, hand firmly entwined in hers. "I promise."

His reunion with Commodus could wait. Apollo had one job, and one job alone - comforting Meg.

[midnight-moth]

Sooooo the fic I keep referencing, for the ones asking for Raindrop + a certain new quintessence ghoul - here’s the first chapter. It was meant to be just a one shot. But it’s probably not going to be. Once again, I’m not certain about his name sooooo I didn’t use it. But in some circles he’s known as Phantom. There are some heavy subjects so please read the tags.

Read on AO3 or below the cut.

He couldn’t stop staring. It had been months, but he remained as mesmerized now as he was the moment he stumbled off that slab and into the arms of the Air ghoulette holding a blanket open for him.

It was the fluid way in which he rotated his wrists and raised his arms on stage, the way his fingertips danced across his lips when he’s concentrating, or the way they cover his mouth as he stifles a laugh.

The icy blue map of raised veins on his forearms and the backs of his hands, the inside of his slender wrist. Pale, glistening skin that looked soft, cold to the touch, like a marble statue. The way his hands wrapped around his mug of tea, trying to leech the warmth right through the ceramic pottery. How he pressed them firmly against his neck as they walked off stage, smothering the heat created by wearing so many layers.

He desperately wanted to feel that glacial touch on his own heated skin. Whether from the hot flood of stage lights, or his own blood rushing underneath the surface, he wanted those cool, slender fingers wrapped around his own neck, grazing his ribs, on the small of his back, wrapped around his hips.

He imagined those fingers would be gentle. Graceful. Loving. He imagined it was in his nature - to leave invisible marks that were somehow far more permanent than some of the bruises he’d received in the pit, where there was no love for him, just conquest and survival.

He aches for it. He starts to feel like he might die without it, or kill for it, or at least he might have if he were still in a different place, during a different time.

For as little to no comfort he’d ever received in the pit, his desperation for it now kept him awake at night, distracted on stage, lost in the presence of others, feeling utterly alone and mostly hopeless.

He followed him, both of them down dark corridors, rejection looming in front of him, he was sure of it. Who is he after all? A replacement. A stand in. A nobody. And the object of his desire seemed to belong to another. And if he were to admit the truth, they were both what he longed for.

He wanted the heat too, even if it made him shake with fear. That fiery gaze bore right through his skull and made his ears ring. One that he interpreted as don’t touch, mine, stay away from me, stay away from my pack.

But wanted to feel his body sag with relief, his muscles soften under a warm touch, he wanted his eyelids to feel weighed down rather than forced open. But some fear-born instinct told him this was no mere beam of sunlight to rest in. Rather an hellish blaze that would leave only salt, mineral, and bone behind.

Maybe that was the Water ghoul’s secret. His ability to smother those flames when needed. He wasn’t sure he was capable. In fact he was certain he wasn’t. Because maybe being incinerated would feel like something.

A blessed heat he could dissolve into and forget about the past. A warm place where he could simply cease to exist. Not like the void he’d created, that he’d self medicated himself with, using all he had, the very marrow of his own magic.

Darker than pitch black, as above, so below. But a scattering of stars caught the corner of his eye as he was summoned. A shard of light that cut through the void. One that he decided he would welcome. Two shone a little brighter than the rest. Not that anyone else could really see it the way he did.

And now, he wanted to feel more than nothing. He wanted to feel everything. Tails lashed around limbs, fingers making divots in soft flesh, tongues and teeth everywhere. Pushed, pulled, stretched, filled. And his heart, all the sad, pushed, pulled, stretched, filled.

No one would’ve guessed what turmoil lay underneath his seemingly buoyant exterior. No one wouldn’t guessed he was sinking into it. Would he have preferred the stagnation of his old life instead? Did he still hide away in the nothingness he’d created even if the present was far more pleasant than the past? He did.

To the others his energy seemed to be unmatched, his engagement during rituals quickly became notorious. His strange gesticulations and manic movement already beloved by the crowd, by the pack. It wasn’t just performance it was one way to ease the restlessness that made his bones itch. That made him chew on the end of his tail when he thought no one was watching.

That stage also became the place he poured his hatred for normalcy. Of what - no matter what his pack said - was expected of him. When he was first pulled from the pit, into a world whose rules were ordained by humans, he was lost in a sea of polite gestures and words, a mess of objects and implements he could never remember the proper use of.

Why did it matter if he sat on the back of the sofa rather than the cushion itself, why did it matter if he stabbed his food with his knife rather than a fork? It ended up in the same place. And despite Mountain’s warnings he hadn’t cut his tongue off yet.

He had to admit both relief and embarrassment when after peering in his room night after night, Cirrus whispered to him in the hallway that he could pull out the blankets tucked under the mattress and lay underneath them. It wasn’t that he was an idiot. He just knew nothing of creature comforts.

Nor could he really see them to discern their usage. On that front he still had them fooled. Because he could see, in a way. He saw their magic, his own, and the magic in living things and they way it shed and broke down around them.

A trail of rust and olive, that shimmering aura that helped him follow Earth giant’s steps. Sparks and ash drifting like snow, the scent of condensation gathering on stalactites. A crisp, winery breeze, or a warm one. Wherever the ghouls went, they left their mark. That and muscle memory got him around just fine. In the Abbey and on stage.

They’d told him several times he could take the mask off. Those particular rules around the Abbey were long since dissolved if you were able to maintain a convincing human facade in the presence of other humans. But Veil or none, the translucent white lens over his lavender iris and irregular black pupil was unmistakable.

So he wore sunglasses, he claimed that he just needed time to adjust to the brightness of the sun. However his excuse became less plausible when he roamed the halls of their wing in the middle of the night.

He wasn’t ready to be studied, to be pitied, or worse, to be healed. He learned and adapted on his own. He saw the world in a different way now, and he wasn’t convinced that seeing it like everyone else would be better. Not when he got to see everyone from the inside out before they ever spoke a word.

And so his draw to both the Fire ghoul and the Water ghoul was immediate and relentless, he liked what he saw as soon as he saw it. One carried a pain that rivaled his own. And he saw that pain reshaped by the other, like a stone smoothed beneath a river, shielded by an exterior that would protect him, iron forged by flames. The other, once coated in a layer of frost so thick and so biting that no one dared to touch, until he, with warm hands and fire in his heart, did dare.

He could see the way they had molded and transformed each other. The marks that they left, and if demons had souls, theirs were littered with each other's fingerprints, the outline of each other’s lips, echos of each other’s words.

Seeing it every day felt like a series of tiny daggers piercing just enough to draw out a single drop of blood every time he beheld it. So he would bleed out slowly. Maybe no one would notice. That is until he found a salve for the wounds, in the magic that they shed around him, a way to stop the bleeding.

From the elation of a ritual, to what seeped from beneath the doors of their quarters, where he heard sharp intakes of breath and vocalizations he wasn’t sure he’d ever make himself. The magic he collected made him feel closer to anyone than he’d ever been in the past, even if he knew it was artifice of his own making.

His intentions were innocent. Just to feel someone, something, anything. Those first few sparks of magic that he snatched out of thin air, he cradled them inside his chest as though they were what was keeping his heart beating. Eventually he believed that they were.

It was in the shaping of that magic, that was where his true skill as a quintessence ghoul lay. It was how he escaped, despite the marks carved into his back that held him in place. Once he’d figured out how to displace all of the magic that held the incantation together, the rest was simple.

Taking apart his captors piece by piece until they were nothing more than mouths gaping for air, eyes rolling around in empty skulls. They took his sight, but gave him another far greater in return. He had no such desire to decimate the Fire and Water ghouls in the same way. He simply wanted to collect the leftovers.

And gave it shape, function. Not exactly physical form, but something tangible nonetheless. No, not some specter, or abomination made of stolen flesh. Although he was likely capable of it.

No, it was a drop of water that ran down his neck, a current swimming around his ankles like playful koi fish, or the heat on his back as he tried to find warmth within the frigid walls of the Abbey.

The more he took, the more not having all of it tore at his insides. The more he allowed himself to be comforted by what he’d collected, the more he wanted. He let that fire wrap itself around his body, dragging heated digits across his skin, curling tendrils of flame licking at his lips. He let the water rush down his throat, in between his fingers, pooling in the hollows of his body.

He allowed himself to be possessed by it. Getting a hand around himself wasn’t enough.But this piece of them he coveted, that was enough. The same flame at his lips he allowed to drift lower, the water he let course through other channels in his body. Where his own fingers ended and their magic began he lost track of. Smothering himself in them, rubbing it into his skin, sighing with it, crying for it, begging for it, falling apart for it.

Cumming alone in the dark with it. Followed by a rush of shame that gnawed at him as he gnawed on the end of his tail throughout the day. It became distracting. The push and pull of desire and guilt that left him lost in his thoughts while others were calling for his attention at meals or during practice.

Distracted, so much that he was unaware of the way that the Fire Ghoul and the Water Ghoul moved closer to him, inch by inch, day by day. Driven by curiosity, a little bit of intuition, and a keen sense of smell. They stared in silence as they observed from across the room, watching him fidget as he perched on the back of the couch, facing the window.

No one was able to convince him that sitting on the sofa cushions would be more comfortable. They didn’t realize he didn’t want to be comfortable, he didn’t want to relax. He wanted to remain alert for the threat he knew was hiding around the corner.

So he remained on guard, nibbling on the spade of his tail as the middle portion swung from side to side. Afraid of startling him, the ghouls watching him never made a sound.

They just inhaled deeply, nostrils filled with something so familiar and yet they were unable to place it. They tilted their heads to the side and watched him let go of his tail briefly to pull strands of inky black hair between his lips, or to wrap his arms around his torso until his fingers reached the center of his back, trailing them along something that they couldn’t see through his worn black sweatshirt.

The Fire ghoul recognized the sweater by the holes he’d burnt into it. Forgetting the clothing he abandoned at the bottom of the closet of what was now the new Quintessence ghoul’s bedroom, he wondered if anyone had offered to get him some of his own. Now that he thought about it, he’d scarcely seen him in anything but his stage uniform.

Nor had he seen him without his eyes covered. The fire ghoul had once started humming the chorus to “I wear my sunglasses at night” but quickly realized that the ghoul had no idea what that song was. Perhaps it could be their inside joke one day.

As the Fire and Water ghouls communicated silently, their subject abruptly sighed, tipping backward on the sofa until he was upside down with his legs hanging over the high back. His sigh was cut off with a surprised yelp.

“Sorry, we didn’t mean to scare you.” Rain offered in a tone of apology. Dew, he just stared, with his head cocked to the side.

“No, it’s fine. I was in my own little world. Bad habit...” He trailed off with a nervous laughter, realizing he was making a sort of inside joke that only he understood.

Rain and Dew moved closer, slow and soft steps as though he would startle like a cat. And he sort of did, scrambling to turn his body until he was seated upright on the sofa. As they approached his breath hitched in an unbecoming noise that sounded like a hiccup. Too close, too much, retreat.

“Well, I have to go practice now. Uh - enjoy your - uh” Dew and Rain eyed each other, practice, what practice?

In that moment, he lost his bearings, not knowing if it was day or night. Usually he moved with some sort of awkward grace, but all equilibrium was lost in his panic and he tripped over the low coffee table, falling sideways, his sunglasses knocked out of reach.

Any intentions of normalcy shattered, he began groping across the floor in a panic for the glasses that were knocked off his head.

“Hey, are you alright?” The downed ghoul felt impossibly hot fingers gripping his hand. Too close, too much. The scent of both ghouls invading his lungs, familiar and inviting but overwhelming more than anything else.

Dewdrop’s touch surprisingly tender, which caused his warring emotions to clash harder. He felt like his arm was being branded, far more of that elemental magic he had siphoned now bleeding directly into his body. And he didn’t mean to draw on it, but his body was greedy for it. He wrenched his arm away before the other could feel it too.

His hand finally fell upon the frame of his sunglasses, held close enough to his face that he could smell the cheap plastic. They were slid into his sweating palms.

Hands as cool and silky as he had expected them to be ran across his fingertips as they pulled away. As if he couldn’t be more humiliated, he was, by the strangled cry of finally experiencing what it meant to be touched by Rain, no matter how brief.

He thrust the glasses back on his face, unsure of what the two ghouls saw, thought, or assumed. His only imperative was to flee the room and throw himself on his bed, maybe hold his breath until he wasn’t alive anymore.

“Please, do you need anything? Your knee? You slammed it on the corner of the table. You’re bleeding.”

“Oh no, I’m fine.” It stung ferociously. He swore he felt splinters embedded in the wound. However he’d be content to lick at it alone in his room, as he’d done many times before. A rogue tear slipped from beneath the glasses, following the crooked channel of the scar he bore on his right cheek.

“I’ll - uh - just -” He couldn’t be bothered to try and redeem himself. He just carried himself from the room with what small scrap of dignity he could. Which wasn’t much at all. He made it back to his quarters, into the washroom where of course he couldn’t see the little splinters of wood piercing his skin. So he simply dug into the wound with his claw until he couldn’t feel them anymore.

A touch of quintessence to ensure it didn’t fester, and then he led himself to bed. Knees to chest, he didn’t much care that the bed sheet began sticking to the still-bleeding wound. He allowed himself the catharsis of tears before drifting off with parts of Dew and Rain snaking around his body in a comforting squeeze.

“What - just happened?” Rain stared at the droplets of blood on the wooden floorboards, wondering how their presence could be so offensive.

“I don’t know. I think we broke him.” Perhaps it sounded sarcastic, but Dew meant it.

“Did you notice?”

“That he smelled like you?”

“And you?”

Rain and Dew knew each other well enough to be sure they weren’t sneaking off for their own individual trysts. In fact they’d both never been as close as they were today aside from when they’d been on tour.

“Why, with the glasses, still. It’s been months?” Dew knew Rain had no answers, but he still needed to voice the question that everyone else seemed to avoid. Along with the scar that drifted below the neck of his shirt. And how he seemingly avoided being touched in a group of the most clingy, overly affectionate ghouls this side of the pit.

“You know, I want to help him. But I don’t know how. He bolts like a deer as soon as he hears footsteps.”

“I know, you know I do too.”

“So, let’s try. If he runs, I’ll catch him. My legs are longer.”

Dew smirked at the subtle dig, considering he was an inch shorter. He suddenly bolted for the hallway, “You’d better practice then.” he yelled, knowing he didn’t have a chance.Rain had caught up in seconds, throwing Dew over his shoulder while he kicked and whined.

“Got you. Mine now” Rain hissed.

“Yes, yours.” Dew purred against his shoulder.

Curling up together in the large patch of sunlight bleeding onto their bed through the stained glass window, they both considered how they could reach out to the new ghoul. The one that was living up to the moniker that fans had given in the early days of his first tour. Appearing out of thin air, disappearing the same way, and always leaving behind more questions than answers.

The quintessence ghoul shot up in bed, no amount of stolen, begged or borrowed Fire magic could ward off the cold sweat now dripping down his face. He had nightmares, sure, here on Earth, they would call him traumatized. He’d accepted it, mostly. Except that in times of heightened anxiety and stress, they got worse. Sometimes they ripped him from his sleep with a scream only others heard.

And so they did. He felt for his tail under the sheets, confirming to himself that it was still intact. Running his finger through the deep groove where it connected to the rest of his spine. Proof of the attempt made to sever it. The rest of his tail proved it was still in working order as it snaked out from under the blanket, spade resting reassuringly on his lower lip.

He rested his hands palm up on his lap, the next sensation, secondary to fear. was that of the elemental magic that had brushed against them earlier that day. Still a constellation of calming blues and warm oranges.

He could pretend he was trying to distract himself from the fear he was running from, but that was long forgotten already as he traced each hand with the opposite. Rubbing the flats of his hands together, threading his fingers, a cursory stroke across his cheek.

It felt too real to him, because it was more real than anything else he’d felt. Touch unmarred by cruelty. Chasing distraction, he did his best to pretend those hands weren’t his anymore. Detaching the mind from the body was an acquired skill, and he wanted to test his capabilities.

All he wanted was a few soft touches, ones he could lean into. And so he found himself cradling his own face in his magic stained hands. He let the cooler of the two drape across his forehead, the warm one braced against his jaw. He let it slide down his neck, soothing the cramp brought on by tensing through the terror of his nap.

He smoothed the other hand from his hairline to wrap around the other side of his slender neck, imagining what it’d be like to really have fire and water on either side of him, his neck, his body, or how many pairs of lips could reach each other at once. How it would feel to have 4 hands on his body instead of two of his own.

His lips parted for his own cool fingers, his skin in goosebumps over the shudder that ran through him as soon as he tasted Rain’s infernal magic on his tongue. Sweet, like clover honey. His other hand drifted across his chest, drawing small circles, reaching for places he never really touched. The dip between his collarbone, under his arm, into the small cavern of space created by his sharp hip bone and the waist of his pants.

An exploratory brush over the soft hair trailing from his navel to the denser patch between his lips brought his hips off the bed in search of touch that wasn’t really there. He tried his best to fill the void, wrapping icy fingers around his shaft, too keyed up to really stroke himself in earnest, he was reduced to petting at the head of his cock, whilst the warmer digits and his own saliva created a slick space between his legs.

Not part of his repertoire, nor did he have one in the first place, still he thought that if was their hands working him open, he wouldn’t have to close his eyes and pretend he was somewhere else. Pushed, pulled, stretched, filled. Because he wanted to be.

His own soft whimpering had drowned out the sound of two sets of feet padding down the hall to his room. Far off in a separate hallway, empty at the absence of the other quintessence ghouls, he often forgot to close the door. And he hadn’t expected anyone to be seeking his presence in the middle of the night.

At first they weren’t sure what they were looking at. Marbled skin set aglow by the magic crawling across his skin. Not just the clear shimmer or the occasionally slate grey or violet that quintessence usually appeared to them. Shades of aqua and cobalt, and silvery turquoise, the glow of soft embers in a spent fireplace, some burning hot like the sun that strained their eyes in the darkness surrounding him.

It smelled like them, it smelled like him. Lavender and mint, the scent of the first snowfall hitting branches of pine, the thinned air close to a mountain peak. Simultaneously fresh and intoxicating, luring them to the bed, pressing down on the mattress one limb at a time.

So enraptured by the lines he managed to blur between fantasy and reality, it took him a moment to realize that the cool finger tracing his jaw, and the warm hand on the small of his back wasn’t something he’d conjured. That the words being whispered in his ear weren’t just his imaginings echoing in his mind. Calloused fingers and chapped wintery lips pressing into his skin.

When this new reality came crashing down on him, he sobbed with relief, also with guilt. Telling them he didn’t really mean to, that it wouldn’t hurt them, that he wasn’t trying to be intrusive, he didn’t mean to steal, just take what they didn’t need, that he accepted that he was alone, and that he promised he wouldn’t do it again.

It was then that they noticed the glasses cast aside on the bedside table, and through what light the full moon offered, they could see his faded lavender eyes scanning from side to side in the dark, one pupil larger than the other, the other pupil looking as though it were a spot of ink that a brush had been dragged through.

Dew knew more than anyone else could that he need not offer pity. He had hated nothing more. Rain had learned that from him too. Pity tells those who receive it that they have something to feel sorry about. It confirms that there is something they lack, that they are damaged, that they are broken and cannot be fixed.

Clearly he’d made his way from the Pit to the present, he didn’t need their pity. He needed their acceptance and kindness. And so when they both took turns caressing his face with the backs of their hands, and telling him how beautiful he was, he believed them. Even when Rain traced the crooked scar that began at the edge of his cheekbone and ended just past his clavicle, and when Dew ran his finger across both eyelids, he believed them.

Whether or not the quintessence ghoul could see any part of them in the darkness, they didn’t ask. Those types of questions of how and why, they could wait. They knew he could see them somehow, or feel them, as their words and touches eased his sobs, he began reaching out to them.

“What do you want?” Dew nor Rain would push, they had no agenda. They’d give him whatever he asked for, whatever he needed. As they had once offered and given to each other.

He’d never received this kind of proposition. He could scarcely decide what to eat most days. Opting for repetitive bowls of certain and whatever fruit or vegetable was thrust at him with threats of nutritional deficiencies. His eyes halted their movement, seemingly staring at the hands wrapped around his own in a pile on his lap.

“I’ve felt nothing for so long. I created a void within myself so deep I could hide there forever. I don’t care if you make me suffer, I don’t care if it hurts. I just want to feel both of you. Drown my heart, burn my soul.”

“No need, only love now, only pleasure.” Those were the last words spoken for some time. As if they’d heard the silent plea as well as the audible one. Pushed, pulled, stretched, filled.

For all the immense pleasure he’d felt carrying their magic around in his body, rubbing it into his skin, touching himself with it, inside and out. But it left him truly unprepared to experience all of it, a flood, or an inferno, all consuming.

Most caught off guard by Dew’s touch, which was adoring, gentle. Hands working his clothes into a pile on the floor, their own thrown on top, skin against skin. Rain’s hands brushed his mop of hair away from his face while Dew’s lips met his own with genuine affection. He kept it soft, exploratory. Running his hot tongue over his plush lower lip, over his sharp canines, past his teeth to work him open with slow sweeps across his tongue.

Cool lips trailed down his neck, the flat of Rain’s tongue across his shoulder blade. The displaced nerves caused the sensation to travel far past the intended target. He wanted to touch back, but all he could do was dig his fingers into willing flesh. His feverish grasp enough to elicit moans from both of them.

He was coaxed back toward the pillows, feeling weightless, dizzy, burning with furious heat that was entirely his own this time. Dew’s lips remained connected on the descent, sweeping into his mouth with a fervor that made his heart ache. He managed to pry his hand from Dew’s arm to thread it through his hair. As soft as he’d imagined it to be, Dew all but collapsed on his chest when he raked his claws against his scalp.

Dew made a strange noise that he wasn’t sure he’d ever heard. A warbling cry that must’ve been a purr colliding with a whine as Dew threw his leg across his hips. Dew swallowed his moans as the heat of Dew’s inner thigh connected with his cock. Rain’s hand guided his hips for him, maddeningly slow, though he wasn’t sure he could withstand anything faster.

More so when Rain coated his fingers in his own slick, the scent he imagined must be almost as incredible as what it must’ve tasted like. He whimpered into Dew’s mouth as they drifted between his thighs. He thought he’d break some kind of spell, by speaking aloud. But Rain’s silky fingers made him want to beg. Breaking away from Dew’s lips, all he could do was gasp as Rain’s fingers slipped past his entrance.

He only regained enough composure to beg for a taste. Dew obliged him, Rain’s body jerking at the sudden but welcome intrusion. Enraptured, he held onto his forearm as he worked his fingers into Rain’s body. Taking only a few cursory strokes before Rain’s hips were driving down to meet his hand.

He shifted, moving his other hand to Rain’s hip, forgetting his own want for a moment to focus on the way his body bucked and shuddered. To allow himself to be captured in Rain’s arms, his cool mouth somehow managed to be just as searing as Dew’s. For what he lacked in temperature he made up for with absolute desperation for harder and deeper.

He felt Dew’s arm shift, twisting out of his grasp, only to guide his hand, to replace his own. He remembered briefly that no one was ever concerned with anyone’s pleasure in the pit, it was all he cared about now. Giving it, receiving it, he tried to emulate what he felt in the tendons and muscles shifting under Dew’s skin, under his grasp.

Elsewhere Rain was cool, here he was not. Only one digit at a time, but Rain whimpered “3” in his ear. Soft, plush, heat wrapped around his fingers, he imagined what it’d feel like around his cock. His thoughts scattered as Dew’s fingers glided across his jaw and into his mouth. Rain tasted just as his magic smelled, sweet, heady, delicious.

Rain seemed as eager to taste himself on Dew’s fingers, inside of his own mouth, as he was. Rain’s tongue pushed Dew’s fingers apart, meeting his own inbetween. Dew’s hand retreated, moving across his chest, dragging his wet fingers around his nipple, rather than directly across. Teasing him until he started stroking it in earnest.

Dew’s tail coiled around his thigh, gently willing his legs apart. His focus was scattered, between the hand petting and occasionally pinching his nipples, feeling them harden and swell and burn. Rain crushing their lips together as he writhed on his fingers.

Or Rain’s hand dipping between their bodies, just to hold his cock in a way that struck him as somehow even more intimate than if he were stroking him. He couldn’t help the way that his hips jolted forward when Rain’s lips moved to the corner of his mouth to moan in his ear, a light and breathy timbre that he wished he could actually lick, swallow.

“Look how he wants you.” Dew whispered in his ear, dividing his intention in a way that was practically impossible to manage. “Look how close he is. Feel the tears running down his face.” He ran a thumb through the droplets gathered on his eyelashes, afterwards wrapping his lips around the digit with a shudder.

“He wants you to fuck him.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh yes, can’t you hear how wet he is?”

“Yes. So wet.”

“Do you want to fuck him?”

“So, so much. But how do you know? Maybe he wants you. You belong to each other.”

“Perhaps, but now you belong to us.” The possessive edge in Dew’s voice made his heart swell. “Ask him yourself.”

Dew could see Rain’s lids flickering, attempting to give their words a fraction of his attention.

“Just curl your fingers a little.” He obeyed and Rain cried out loud enough that perhaps the sound carried to the other hallways in their wing of the Abbey. His hands shot to his shoulders, tensing against his skin as he tried to keep his claws retracted.

“Ask him.”

He couldn’t bring the volume of his voice any higher, he whispered the question into Rain’s ear like a secret. “Can I fuck you?”

“No, don’t ask if you can. Ask him if he wants you to.”

Rain’s hips stilled, his chest heaving, he waited for the question, knowing just how much the answer would mean, how much it would reassure.

“Do you want me?

Similar in wording but its meaning was full of nuance.

“Yes, I want you. We want you.”

“Do you want me just for now?”

“We want you forever.” Rain was confident he could speak for Dew, for the rest of the pack. He knew the question was multifaceted. That he didn’t mean just Rain, and just his body.

“Do you want me to fuck you?”

“Yes, now and forever.”

The promise of that kind of affection, that kind of love, the kind you could only have with your pack. With a mate, or two, a concept he’d scarcely contemplated in his life. It threatened to swallow him whole. But not yet, he’d let himself revel in the implications of his words later, when he didn’t have everything he’d ever wanted curled around both sides of his body.

His mind reeled, but Dew was relentless, full of need, want, desire. He didn’t want to give him time to consider Rain’s words, he sought to overwhelm and consume, as was his nature. “After you fuck him, after he cums on your cock, will you let me fuck you?” Dew began to nuzzle behind his ear as he spoke, docile as a kitten with very sharp claws and teeth. “I know you’re scared of me. Or you were. I won’t hurt you, I’ll be gentle, soft. Until you don’t want me to be.”

Dew’s speech sounded a lot like he was trying to lure a lamb to the slaughter. But it was only that lust had clouded his brain and coloured his words, and the tone of his voice. Perhaps it sounded less affectionate than he actually felt it. However, his touch remained as soft as he said it would be. Hands gliding over his ribs, caressing the soft curve of his belly, laying achingly tender kisses along the pointed shell of his ear.

Rain muttered against his flush skin, his voice as wistful as it was shaken, “He will. He’ll take you as slow as you want to be taken. Spread you open and break you apart. He’ll ruin you, make you cry, make you cum, and you’ll beg him to do it all over again. He’ll make you fall in love.” He had no doubt he’d fall in love, he was already there well before they’d laid a finger on him.

He could see the allure in both of the scenes being presented to him. As if Dew could read his indecision, he murmured into his ear, “You don’t have to choose, it’s all yours. This and more.” He wanted to say don’t make promises you can’t keep, his quiet sob said it for him.

Hands reaching out to him to pet his hair, tails latching around his legs, the kisses on his throat and down his spine said we can keep them, and we will.

“Do you need his help?” He nodded in confirmation, feeling almost too overwhelmed to move but not so much that he wanted it to end. No, he very much so, enthusiastically wanted it to continue.

“Rain, help him.” Not that Dew wasn’t helping in his own way, easing him onto his back, pushing damp waves of hair out of his eyes. Dew watched his eyes track Rain’s body in the dark, wondering what he was seeing.

Whatever it was, when his eyes back over to Dew’s, always shifting back and forth in a rapid flutter, they managed to fix on his for a little while, the smile on his face as Rain crawled on top of him, graceful as he could be with legs trembling so violently, it reminded Dew of when he realized he could smile again. It was wide and earnest and he couldn’t look away but he found himself leaning over to crush his lips with kisses anyway.

While their lips were still connected, Rain sunk down with a whine, having thoroughly been worked open by both and soaking the sheets in slick all the while. It would’ve been a mercy had he moved a bit slower. He bit Dew’s lip in surprise, embarrassed by how close his orgasm came hurtling toward him just from one or two strokes.

“I’m so sorry. I - oh.” Indeed Rain had robbed him of his ability to speak, Dew offered his hand which he crushed against his own chest. He placed the other in Rain’s, replacing the fistful of bedsheets. That drop of blood on the end of his tongue sang to him. All of the things that they’d said to him, and maybe some of the things they hadn’t. He hoped he’d get another taste, a purposeful one, from both of them.

Rain obliterated the rest of the thoughts swirling around in his mind with the slow drag of his hips. The way he’d occasionally slam down with all his body weight made him realize that Rain was holding back.

And why he was holding back? It must have been sounds he heard, his own voice crying out to Dew that he was going to cum, and telling Rain it was too much, too fast. Until he pulled his hand from Dew’s to clamp it over his mouth. Maybe to bite down on a finger or two. To pull himself together enough to notice his tail thumping against the bed.

He whined in Dew’s ear, wishing that he could at least get this right. Rain pressed cool hands to the sides of his now flush, heated skin, soothing with touch rather than words as Rain had less breath in his lungs than he did.

“There’s no judgment here. This isn’t a performance, and I know that’s what you feel you need to do, not just on stage. Here, in the Abbey, for us, for everyone. But you don’t, not anymore, not here, not with us. Not with any of us.”

All he could do was let Rain’s icy fingers brush the tears from his face, let Dew press his warm lips across his shoulder, let himself cry, shake, whimper, let Dew wrap his tail around his wrist so he’d stop accidentally slapping him with the flat spaded tip, which at least made him laugh.

When he finally got out of his own head he was able to appreciate the scope of what was happening. To appreciate the visual as well as the sensation of being enveloped by their magic as well as their bodies. He wanted to know if it felt like this for other quintessence ghouls. He selfishly hoped it was his pleasure alone for the sacrifice he didn’t ask to make.

This time he didn’t borrow, or steal. He gave, letting his own magic seep out, drift across their bodies, curling around them like creeping vines. Pulling them all closer together by invisible threads. Well, invisible to Rain and Dew. A stroke behind Dew’s ear, sweeping up Rain’s spine.

Dew clung to his side, hands roaming between his and Rain’s bodies, this new touch, this new connection between the 3 of them, he hadn’t expected it, corporeal manifestations of what was the least understood element. He hadn’t the ability to think about it too much. Not when whatever it was felt tangible, physical, touching, caressing, stroking.

“Does it feel good, or it’s -”

“No, so good.” Rain managed to whine out. “So close.”

“See, pretty boy, he’s going to cum, just for you.” He’d heard a hint of sweetness in Dew’s voice before, now it was cloying, syrupy. Dew ran his fingers across his abdomen, through the pool of pre gathered between his hips. “Oh, you must be making him feel so good. He’s dripping for you.”

He’d shut his eyes tight, as if he needed Dew’s words to push him over the edge. He was already there, but he also didn’t want him to stop. He felt Dew’s thin fingers slipping between his thighs, dragging his fingers through the slick that all but poured down his shaft now that Rain was on the verge. Wordlessly, Dew slipped his now drenched fingers into his mouth, closing the gap between all 5 of his senses.

At the next pass of Rain’s hips, he folded in on himself, between the taste in his mouth and the sounds Rain made and the words Dew was whispering in his ears and the friction that remained despite how wet everything was.

As soon as the first hot splash ran across his chest, he came with a wrecked sob. A release worthy of a water ghoul, maybe it was all that magic he’d borrowed. The sinful mess they both made of each other, the sheets, the mattress, and Dew praised them both hung off of each other panting.

“So - beautiful.” For him, Rain was lit up, head to toe, perhaps the clearest he’d ever seen his features before. He hoped it wouldn’t fade. He hoped he’d see Dew shine this brightly once he caught his breath, once Dew kept his word. Made him fall in love.

Rain eased himself to the side, respite for his burning thigh muscles. Not too tired to plaster wet kisses to the side of his face. “I made a mess of you.” Rain giggled, he actually giggled.

“Look, you made him delirious.”

“Is that what you’re going to do to me? Make a mess of me, make me delirious?”

“Yes, a big mess.” Rain muttered against his shoulder, answering in Dew’s stead.

Dew gave the base of his curved black horns an affectionate scratch, catching his fingers on the chips. “Is that what you want? For me to make a mess of you?”

The eagerness in his expression faltered. Dew ran a thumb over his damn lips as though he could wipe the partial frown away. Instead, his thumb revealed a tremor as it slid to his chin. “I do - want you - and not just to make a mess of you.”

The ghoul shivered, knowing the intensity of what he’d just experienced wouldn’t exactly be surpassed but it would feel altogether different.

“Can we just - first - ”

“Of course.” Rain and Dew enclosed him almost completely, letting his head poke out the top of their woven limbs.

He felt himself melt into the mattress, his muscles looser than they’d ever been, and the tension that had been wrapped around his skull for longer than he could remember had finally loosened. He didn’t mean to, but their rumbling purrs and trills and soft kisses made him fall asleep for the first time in a long time without force.

For once his life was far better than anything he might dream of while he was unconscious.

[gothghostiie]

TIME TO TELL YOU ABOUT MY ANGSTY SMUTTY IDEA

So in the context of Marble Hornets, we know that Tim is kind of fighting off the Masky headspace. We don’t know what exactly causes it but we know it’s not something he can control nor does he like it, as he doesn’t remember anything about what he does as Masky. He’s lost entire weeks to him.

Hoodie we know significantly less about behavior-wise, but it’s implied that the man he used to be (Brian Thomas) has been completely lost and Hoodie is the dominant headspace. We also know that Hoodie sometimes deliberately acts to ‘bring out’ Masky in Tim.

Where am I going with this? Well, I think that being chained in that basement and used routinely by the two of them while they refuse to speak is a state that can’t last forever. I think maybe if and when Tim finally takes back control, he leaves the mask behind and comes down to the basement when he hears sobbing, only to find poor you curled in a ball naked and filthy. And when you notice him and desperately keep your legs shut and beg him not to hurt you, Tim realizes what he’s done when Masky was in control.

OH MY GODDDDD

this is so???

Tim is so horrified, hugging you close and trying to get the shackles off of you, whispering panicked apologies while shaking his head violently, but you dont understand:( you just see the yellow jacket and the dark hair and panic sets in, with or without the mask. the voice sends shivers down your spine despite how gentle he seems to be now..

[writermich18]

Final Fantasy XV Writing Prompt

Somnus gets kidnapped by a cult at the age of 18. The Cult of Bahamut, the Eclipse (yes I stole the name from Horizon Zero Dawn's cult, shut up. It's for ironic purposes). He spends years under their thumb, trying to escape and failing. They (try to) take his magic from him, take his being, use him and mark him for sacrifice as a puppet to Bahamut.

Ardyn, in the middle of his journey, doesn't learn of his brother's kidnapping until one year later. Because the people wanted him to focus on healing Scourge victims. By the time Ardyn their clan's army find Somnus, he has lost the will to live. Somnus Lucis Caelum, 23 years old, dies in his brother's arms after the cult attempts once again to steal his magic during the Caelum Clan Army's strike against them.

Ardyn, grieving and angered over what had been done to his brother, attacks the cult, destroying them and erasing them from history. He also destroys everything they'd taken from his brother. He makes certain the people never forget what they had done, what they took from him all in the name of his duty.

2,000 years later, Somnus gets reincarnated (writer decides with who. Restriction: It can't be a Reader or OC. You can only reincarnate him with a canon character. Secondly, it can't be the main character Noctis).

Request: You can have Somnus have kids early in this, if you want the canon royal members like Regis and Noctis to remain Somnus' descendant. You can even have those kids be the byproduct of the experimentation and rapes Somnus went through in the hands of the cult. Let Ardyn have something that will last through the ages from Somnus. And let Ardyn have his own non-canon descendants. Or you can have the Lucis Caelums be Ardyn's descendants with Aera from before the Scourge changed him. It's up to you.

[descendantofthesparrow]

POYW Rewrite V2 - Harry Hook x reader - P9

=

About an hour to five-there was a knock at your door. You stood, putting your hair kit down, and walking over, opening your door to see Evie; who was grinning. “Hi?” you said, slightly confused, stepping back as Evie stepped inside and tossed a few items on your bed-one of which being an entire outfit. “Uhhh what are you doing?” you asked, crossing your arms over your tank top, you had just taken a shower, and were getting ready for your date with Harry.

“Getting you ready for your date with Harry of course~ now c’mere-“ Evie held up an eyeshadow pallet-holding it next to your face. You pushed it away, chuckling. “thanks but no thanks Evie, I got it covered.” Evie just rose her brow at you, clearly not willing to budge.

“Mmhm, what were you going to wear?” Evie asked, grabbing a few lipsticks and glosses and holding them next to your face-comparing them to your eyes and complexion. You nodded over to the outfit you had chosen about a half hour earlier and Evie glanced at it, humming and then grabbing the top she had picked out for you and switching it out with the one you had chosen.

You had to admit-it worked better. “All right all right, got me there, but-make up? Really?” you sighed, pushing Evie’s hand away from your chin as she attempted to match your skin tone. Evie nodded, pulling your hair out of your face and sitting you down on your bed.

“I won't be intense, just something to compliment what you already have, promise.” You stared at Evie, your hand on her wrist that held a bottle of concealer. Evie beamed, batting her eyes at you. “Pretty please? With sugar on top~?”

“The physical appearance of please, nor does putting sugar on top, make a difference.” You said with a snort, but let Evie do as she wanted-closing your eyes as she instructed, letting out a slow sigh as she worked.

-

Only a few moments before Evie burst into your room-she threw open Harry’s door and chucked an outfit at him-along with makeup wipes and hair gel. “It’s a first date! look nice! No eyeliner!” Evie said with a teasing grin, slamming the door shut and then going over to your room.

Harry blinked three times before looking down at the outfit in his arms. A red velvet jacket, a white t-shirt with black stripes, black pants, and a few complimentary bracelets and rings. He sighed, grabbing a quick shower and making sure there wasn’t a lick of eyeliner on his face. He suppressed the urge to put some on, staring hard at his liner pen but he sighed and got changed, drying his hair and then styling it loosely-his curls tamed by the gel.

He looked…Auradon. He still felt like himself but-he was all cleaned up and…it was weird. He made a face at himself and chuckled, pushing down the urge to mess up his hair and grabbing his phone, making sure Ben’s sailboat offer was still up.

‘For sure! I’ll let the guards know you’re coming :3’

Ben and his weird emotes.

Harry went down to the student kitchens, grabbing a picnic basket and packing it with whatever he could think of, making sure to grab some cinnamon rolls(which were still warm) and root beer. He put the basket into the same car you had driven him and Gil to the beach and went back to the dorms-by the time he did that-it was two to five.

He bit the inside of his lip-not wanting to just knock on your door too early, but before he could think about it more-your door opened and there you were.

And-holy shit-you were-so fucking pretty. You smiled at him; the choker Evie had picked out to compliment your outfit made him swallow hard. “Wow,” Harry muttered and you giggled, tilting your head at him-squinting. “wha?”

“Where’s the eyeliner?” you asked, only half teasing. “Not saying you don’t look good, cuz damn,” Harry flushed, giving you a shy smile. “but the eyeliner is a look, makes your eyes pop.” Harry just chuckled, holding up his finger and going into his room-applying a thin line of liner before going back out-offering his arm. “shall we?”

You laughed, taking his arm, Harry admiring the gold tentacle ring on your pinkie. “We shall, where are we goin’ by the way?”

“You’ll see,” Harry hummed, handing you the keys as you arrived at the garage, “I can't drive so,” You laughed and nodded, spinning the key ring around your finger.

“I got you; I got you.” Harry grinned, getting in on the passenger's side before he paused, furrowing his brows. “ye have one of those licenses, right?” you shook your head, starting the car. Harry laughed, slapping his hand over his mouth as you grinned at him. “ye don’t?”

“Nope, I know how to drive well though, and even Ben doesn’t care if I drive, besides-cops don’t pull anyone over unless they’re drunk driving or somethin’, so we’re good.” Harry hummed, looking out the window as you pulled out of the garage and headed for the location Harry put into the car’s GPS.

You pulled into the royal port parking lot and laughed as you spotted Ben’s sailboat. “for real?” you asked, turning off the car and getting out-standing on the door seal to get a better look. “holy shit!”

“have ye ever been sailin’?” Harry asked, feeling so excited for this, and it wasn’t just because he finally got to sail a ship that wasn’t run down to pieces. You shook your head, hopping down from the car and closing the door, bouncing in place as Harry grabbed the basket from the back seat and followed you down the dock-the guard having Harry sign in before he let the two of you onto the boat.

“not really, I’ve been on a motor boat but never sailing!” you yelled back at Harry as you climbed onto the boat, giggling as you explored it-Harry quickly and expertly setting up the boat and getting it ready to sail, un-tying it from the dock and hopping on-pulling the main sail up as you coasted out to sea.

“oh this is wicked-“ you said to yourself as you went to the front of the boat and sat down, resting your head on your arms as Harry walked about-soon finding himself at the wheel. He smiled at you, those butterflies returning.

He dropped anchor when he got the boat out far enough, joining you at the front and leaning back on his hands, enjoying the ocean breeze and the sun on his face. You both sat in comfortable silence for a  few minutes, before Harry leaned towards you, that lopsided smirk on his face.

“I dunno how ta start this,” he whispered and you laughed, Harry’s cheeks turning pink at the sound. He smiled at you, watching you as you pulled your legs into your chest and turned to him. “Neither do I, never been asked out, nor been on a date.”

Harry hummed, furrowing his brows. “Really, never?” he asked and you shook your head, playing with your fingers. “Never,” you said quietly “I was never that girl boys, or anyone, was interested in. You’re actually the first person to show any interest, like…ever.”

Well, that just made Harry feel horrid, here he was-the first person to ever ask you out-and it was a ruse for the wand.

He decided he was going to make the dates you had with him amazing, just hoping he didn’t break your heart at the end of it. And hoping he didn’t break his own. “Those other fucks were all suckers then,” Harry said instead, giving you a soft smile. you flushed, hiding behind your knees. “Such a flirt,” you chuckled, giving him a shy grin.

He laughed, biting his lip “Ye should’ve seen me on the isle, I mostly used it as a distraction tactic but Uma called me a pansexual mess, I flirted with anythin’ in sight; especially if it meant I could steal a wallet or two,” Harry laughed and you snorted, setting your chin on your knees as Harry’s eyes drifted at the mention of the isle-finding it on the horizon.

“Anyways,” Harry muttered, turning back to you. “uh…tell me somethin’ ye have never told anyone.” You hummed at that, tapping your chin.

“I’ve never had a crush on anyone till this year,” you landed on, giving a cheeky grin to Harry, who smirked, leaning towards you. “oh, and who would tha’ be?” Harry purred, his bangs falling into his eyes.

“Chad,” you said, fully joking and Harry acted like he took a hit to the heart-falling on his back with a dramatic groan. “oh-ye wound me lass,” you laughed, shaking your head as Harry sat up and you gestured to him. “Your turn, what's something you’ve never told anyone?”

Harry licked his lips, gazing at the sea-his eyes finding the Neverland star. “Me mom was a mermaid from Neverland,” Harry whispered and you perked up, your eyes on his profile-his eyes staring off to Neverland.

“Oh,” you whispered, letting your legs stretch out and fully turning to face Harry, whose smile turned sad. “is she?” He nodded, yes, his mother was dead. “Died when I was four months old, ran out of magic, couldn’t survive under tha’ barrier,” Harry muttered, his fingers now messing with a black banded ruby ring. “Uncle Smee says I look like ‘er,”

You nodded, slowly reaching out and taking his hand-smiling softly as he squeezed your hand gently. “I hope that’s a good thing?” you asked, and Harry nodded, his sad smile turning fond. “Aye, Smee says she loved Hettie, me sister, and I till her last breaths. Nothing me father could’ve done ta make her hate us, even if we were forced on her,” Harry’s voice turned bitter, aimed at his father.

You squeezed his hand, he squeezed back.

It was silent for a moment, then you leaned towards him, whispering. “Do you have a hoard of shiny things?” Harry burst out into laughter, holding his stomach as you grinned. He appreciated your redirection; he hadn’t meant to bring down the mood. Eventually, he nodded. “Aye, I do, I had a big pile on tha’ isle, and I’m startin’ one in me room, found a few pretty stones at the beach on Monday.”

You hummed, bringing your knees back up to your chest. “So, you have mermaid brain?” Harry laughed again, nodding. “Aye, I see a shiny thing, I gotta ‘ave it. me sister, Harriet, would use it against me too-would hold somethin’ shiny’ ta keep me attention,” You cackled at the thought of Harriet holding a pretty rock and Harry unable to look away-his eyes following it like a cat staring at a bird.

Harry soon enough got out the food, the two of you sitting across from each other as the boat rocked gently on the quiet ocean. You found yourselves going back and forth-asking and answering each other’s questions; “yer favorite color?” Harry asked, and you told him it was (fav color), and Harry answered in turn when you asked him the same question “Red, if it ain’t obvious already” He laughed, gesturing to his jacket.

“favorite food?” you asked “Simanim buns” Harry answered, a dreamy look on his face. He was in love with the dessert. “cin-na-mon” you gently corrected, not caring he wasn’t able to say the word, it was part of his charm.

“Ever have a pet?” Harry asked “A dog! And a few guinea pigs, always wanted a bird or a snake though, you?” you answered, and returned the question. Harry shook his head. “nah, had the opportunity at Evie’s sixth birthday party, but it got crashed by the imps ma’ before I could get one, wanted one of those baby parrots Iago offered.”

You laughed at the thought of Harry with a big ol’ scarlet bird on his shoulder, oh how it would complete his pirate look.

“Favorite drink?” you asked, and Harry grinned, holding up the bottle of root beer he had packed. You laughed, agreeing. “Weirdest dream? Or nightmare?” Harry asked, licking his fingers clean of mayo as you hummed, tapping your chin.

“Spiders taking over the world,” Harry shuddered, oh how he hated spiders-terrified of them in fact. You giggled at his reaction, setting down your soda and picking up a cinnamon roll. “ummm,” you hummed, tapping your fingers on your roll. “worst prank you’ve pulled off?”

Harry snorted, rolling his eyes a bit-oh there were too many to count, many from his childhood-many of them against Jay or Mal. “not me worst-but definitely not me best or brightest-but ye know those lil’ furry worm things on strings?” you nodded “I hung em all up on the ceilin’ of Uma’s room for ‘er ta wake up to, funny as all hell but she threw me over the docks fer doin’ it,” Harry laughed, and you burst out into giggles, picturing little Harry carefully hanging the worms while Uma slept.

Soon the sun had disappeared behind the horizon, and you were laying on your backs looking up at the stars, pointing out constellations to each other and talking about whatever came to mind. “so-did ye mean it?” Harry asked quietly after a long moment of comfortable silence, his arm acting as a pillow for you. You turned, pushing your cheek into his arm as he continued to look up at the stars. “When ye said ye never had a crush before this year?”

You slowly nodded, licking your lips as you turned to look up at the sky again. “yeah, ever since I was kid, I never had a crush, I never understood what everyone was talking about when they would gush about boys and how cute they were-like yeah, they were…cute I guess, aesthetically pleasing but I never understood why anyone would go crazy for em, especially boy bands n all that junk. Always felt…left out I guess, or even sometimes…better? Than the rest because I didn’t have a crush on a stupid-looking boy who used auto-tune too much,” you ranted, Harry turning to look at your profile as you sighed, laying your hands on your stomach.

“Eventually I just accepted the fact that it would never happen, I wouldn’t ever have a crush or like anyone, I would just be the odd one out. And then…then I saw you,” you turned to look at him-locking eyes. His were practically sparkling under the starlight. He gasped lightly, staring at you. “I saw you and I just thought; wow, this is what everyone was talking about? This is what liking someone feels like?” you chuckled, tearing your eyes away from Harry-though he continued to stare at you, his cheeks flushed red.

“so…I’m really the first person ye have ever liked?” Harry asked quietly, a slight pit in his gut as you nodded, laughing slightly. “yep, so-congrats-you made it past whatever the fuck kept me from liking anyone else~” you cheered and Harry snorted, shaking his head.

“mmm,” he hummed, looking back at the stars, his arm curling up to graze his fingers against your arm. “so-(y/n)-“ his voice cracked horrifically and he let out a small squeak noise that made you giggle, turning to look at him as his face turned completely red. “fuck-um-“ why was he so nervous?!

You just smiled, and that somehow eased Harry’s nerves and he sighed, licking his lips. “I was wonderin’ if-if…after this” he gestured to the boat-meaning your date. “ye don’t hate me…would-would ye liked ta’ go on another date and…maybe, be me girl?” Harry asked, averting his eyes as his face burned. You laughed gently, taking his hand that was curling around your shoulders and squeezing.

He looked back at you and you kissed his cheek-giggling as he gasped at the feeling. “yes,” you said softly and Harry grinned, ignoring the way his body felt lighter than air at your answer. “Cool-cool,” Harry whispered, a giddy smile on his face. You giggled again, threading your fingers through his as he bit his lip and looked back up at the stars, that smile never leaving his face.

You lay in comfortable silence for who knows how long, listening to the waves, the sound of ocean life echoing above the calm. Eventually, you packed up, since it was getting close to curfew and Harry sailed back into the port, tying down the boat and guiding the way back to the car. The drive was quiet and comfortable as you drove back to the dorm building.

You parted ways when you got to your rooms, whispering goodnight before you stepped into your rooms and closed the door. You sighed, a bittersweet smile on your face. Oh you were so fucking doomed, and yet you knew it was all a trick, but maybe you would get your happy ending? Maybe Harry would choose you like Mal chose Ben.

You could only hope.

-

Harry swallowed down the bittersweet taste in his mouth, he had so much fun with you-those feelings not leaving him once the entire date. He knew he liked you, he had to accept that, not when he felt so…happy-when you said yes to being his girl.

And all that was left was to break your heart when they took the wand and destroyed Auradon. His eyes drifted to Gil-who was solidly asleep-a little bow bracelet set on his nightstand. He looked at the desk, his recently graded math desk staring back at him.

A+.

…did he really want this? Did he really want to take the wand and destroy Auradon? No, he could easily say that, he wanted to destroy the system that left him and so many other innocent kids on the isle for no other reason than who their parents. He wanted to see Ben rise as King, and do as he wanted-he wanted to be free from his father.

But he also wanted to free his sisters, free Uma, free his uncle Smee, free his Smee twins, free the isle and every kid on it-every kid that was hit, or screamed at, or starved, or tortured simply for existing.

He wanted to free everyone like him, and he wanted to leave his father and his friend's parents to rot. As they deserved.

Harry sighed, taking off his shoes and collapsing in his bed, rubbing his face.

If only he knew what his heart was telling him. Maybe he’d find who he was supposed to be, maybe he’d find his path, maybe…maybe he’d find you at the end of it, smiling like you always did.

He huffed at the thought, curling up in his too-soft bed and falling asleep to thoughts of the future.

-

He brushed his hair back, fixing the crop top sweatshirt he was wearing and making sure his pants fit right. “isn’t that against the dress code?” Gil asked, in the middle of brushing his teeth. Harry just grinned, shrugging. “fer girls yeah, code says’ nothin’ bout boys wearing crop tops~” Gil just fondly rolled his eyes, spitting out his toothpaste and rinsing his mouth. When they walked the halls to breakfast-there were many many eyes on Harry, mostly on his exposed stomach and abs.

You might’ve blue-screened seeing him, staring at his stomach as he chuckled, leaning down to smirk at you. “Like what ye see?” he purred, cackling as you just looked up at him with the expression that clearly said ‘sir you’re wearing a crop top-im loving it’

“I am resisting the immense urge to bite you right now,” you muttered, clenching your hand as Harry laughed, his nose scrunching. He felt everyone’s eyes on them, mostly on him-many being the girls who had sent him notes and flirted with him in the halls. He smirked, his smile turning sharp as you narrowed your eyes at him; gasping when he pecked your forehead-grabbing your hand and joining you in the breakfast line.

“Oh lucky bitch!” he heard someone whisper and he chuckled, making a show and wrapping his arm around you, leaning down to get in your face. You just grinned back, scrunching your nose as you playfully pushed his face back. “Show off,” you muttered, going down the breakfast line and sitting down with Lonnie, Jane, Gil, and Fergus.

Jane, Lonnie, and Fergus were grinning like mad-all giving you and Harry knowing looks. “So?” Lonnie sang, resting her chin in her hands “Are you two?”

You just nodded, rolling your eyes fondly as Jane and Lonnie squealed, Harry and Fergus making a face at the noise, Harry rolling his jaw and rubbing his ear as the girls battered you with questions, asking you how the date was and how Harry asked you out.

When you glanced at Harry as you told them all the deets, he was staring at you already, his chin resting in his palm with a soft smile you knew he didn’t know he was wearing. Honestly, if you didn’t know any better-you’d say he was the one under a love spell.

You flushed a bit, returning your attention back to Jane and Lonnie, Fergus grinning at Harry who finally noticed his stupid face and kicked him under the table-Fergus cackling as Harry pouted.

The day went by quickly, and you seemed to run into Harry more often than you usually did on a school day. Almost as if he was doing it on purpose-but you didn’t mind, you never minded seeing his pretty face more.

Fairy Godmother seemed to approve of the two of you, giving you a proud smile when she saw the two of you holding hands as you walked. And here you thought you raised her blood pressure all too often for her to see you as a good influence.

Later you were in English, Ben sitting a few feet away from you. You were focusing on your worksheet when he slid closer, whispering in your ear. “You knew, didn’t you?” you glanced at him, seeing his face set in soft seriousness. He meant the love spell. You nodded, glancing back down at your worksheet. “And you ate the cookie anyway? I know it wouldn’t affect you, but you really just ate it?” you snorted, and nodded again. “why?”

“Chaos,” you answered simply, giving him a grin, and Ben laughed; shaking his head. “C’mon~ now that you’re all cleansed, don’t tell me watching Mal scramble around wasn’t funny?” Ben just rolled his eyes, a fond smile on his face. “Cute, is the word I would use,” Ben mumbled, sliding back into his seat when the teacher saw him all too close for you. You just snorted-but you felt the same way about Harry, watching him fumble about knowing you were ‘spelled’ to love him was very cute.

Watching Mal continue to scramble as the week went on was very funny, love notes from Ben, presents from Ben, sweets from Ben-all for her and she hardly knew how to handle it, Evie giggling from behind her shoulder as Ben delivered another gift for Mal with that grin on his face, playing up the love spell but now he was acting all of his own accord.

Harry was really sweet too, now he was the one bringing cinnamon rolls to you-you had picked up that habit about half a week into his stay, seeing how much he liked them-you would always grin and kiss his cheek-laughing at the red that spread across his face.

The days went on, and the vks were getting…comfortable, they were all smiling more often, becoming less guarded, making friends; enjoying themselves.

Harry was blossoming on the Roar team, grinning wildly every time a sparring session ended, even making friends with Tara Pan and her lost kids, which came as a shock to everyone including Harry.

All too soon, you knew what would happen, Friday would be that video call, and then Sunday would be family day-the thing that tipped the scale-what pushed the vks too far.

Honestly, you hoped your inclusion would prevent some…things from being said. For now, you hoped things ended the same way they did in the movie.

-end of p9-

Short one~ as we get closer to the grand finale-these will probably be shorter, idk, maybe lol, im running out of ideas for extra scenes XD

permtaglist!

@queer-cosette @sephiralorange @lunanight2012

@daughter-of-the-stars11 @musicarose @rintheemolion

@random-thoughts-004 @anythingbutmar @imtryingthisout

@dai-tsukki-desu @remembered-license @thecaptainsgingersnap

@thetrueghostqueen @littlewierdalien

poyw taglist!

@reallysparklychaos @tzurue @evilunicorns4minions

[cobaltdevils]

get off her you creep (i think something awful happens after this and not of plushii's volition)

[cutelittlevamp]

Hello, I loved reading all of your fics! Especially the yandere dionysus one. Could you do one about yandere hermes or maybe yandere apollo?

First of all, I'm so sorry o.o

You have every right to be mad at me. This took me ages (not to write but to start writing it ._.)

Now, thank you uwu and I chose Hermes for your Oneshot as I prefer him over Apollo and I have another ask with Apollo so, that's that

I hope you at least like it a litte but I won't be mad if you decide to never read it at all. You really had to wait long

Also, just wanted to mention, this oneshot goes into a direction I normally don't write or - more precisely - have never written before (meaning suggestive/implied content) and I hope it's readable o.o

TW: implied content; suggestive content; getting tied up; captivity

and just to get this off my chest: in my mind, he actually stops after the last sentence

______________________________________________________________

He was fast. So incredibly fast

Not just his movements but also how he talks. He also builds relationships fast - from his point of view, at least. There was no slow approach to anything he did, it seemed.

Right now it was more the movement speed that worried you though. You had just gotten out of the house that had been your personal golden cage for quite some time now and you really weren’t keen on getting dragged back there. Not to say Hermes had been rough with you - he was suffocatingly sweet normally - but he’s extremely pushy not to mention the fact that you never wanted to be here in the first place. Or be with him at all. Yet it didn’t matter how often you told him that, he just laughed it off.

‘I’m not a hunter but a good hunt can be quite thrilling if the prey is worth it’ or ‘It’s alright little strawberry. If you want to play hard to get I’ll be the perfect suitor just for you’. It seemed he had a whole list of sentences he could say if you told him you wanted to leave.

Any misbehaviour - or more, what he deemed was misbehaviour - was tolerated to a certain degree and most times he actually seemed to enjoy your ‘rebellious streaks’ but you had certainly pushed past his limit by leaving the house.

He wouldn’t like it. Not one bit.

That’s why you had to be the fast one this time. You never knew when he’d return once he left the house but he could be back any second. All you had to do is be a little faster, a little smarter than him. Well, that was easier said than done.

You had known before you left your ‘home’ that you’d have to cross a river at one point. It was visible from the windows. Yet you could find no way to safely do so. There was no bridge nor a boat and trying to swim through that current would be suicide. Still, there must be some way to cross it. Why else wouldn’t Hermes want you to leave the house? If you couldn’t get across the river then there would be no reason to contain you inside. It didn’t matter much though if you couldn’t find said way.

Frustrated you let out a low grumble and pulled at your hair. You had been out here for far too long already. “This really can’t get any worse now, can it?” “Sure it can. Just give me a minute.”

Hearing his voice - still sounding as chipper as always - right next to your ear made you tense up immediately which caused him to sigh. “I really thought we were past this.”

Then he simply picked you up and carried you back inside, going straight to the bedroom to place you on the bed. You didn’t fight back knowing quite well that it was futile and simply remained where he placed you, waiting to see what he was going to do next.

Normally he’d start lecturing you. Telling you that there was no reason to leave, asking how you could leave him alone, stating that you never even tried to understand his point of view or how he would feel when he came home one day to find you gone. Trying everything to guilt trip you. Sadly, that actually worked sometimes.

Today though he didn’t say anything. He just stood in front of the bed and looked at you. Whatever was going through his mind you couldn’t tell but he really took his time. It unnerved you, to say the least.

He wasn’t patient. Everything needed to go fast - not end fast, but go fast nonetheless. Seeing now that he did nothing but look at you while knowing he was going to do something eventually was scaring you more than anything he had ever done before. It felt like hours had passed before he finally started to move.

Agonisingly slow he removed his brightly coloured scarf, then he just held it in his hands while a small smile started to show on his face.

Before you could even comprehend what was happening Hermes was back to his signature speed, tying your wrists together with his scarf before securing it to the headboard of the bed. Still not fully understanding what just had happened you looked from Hermes to your wrists and back again a few times, a look of open confusion on your face.

Tugging on your restraints the truth finally settled in: he had actually tied you up.

“You … you tied me up …” saying it out loud didn’t help make the situation less bizarre. He had never done anything like this before. “Why would you tie me up?”

Right now you weren’t sure what upset you more: being bound to a bed or the strange way Hermes smiled at you. “It’s so you don’t run away again, strawberry.”

“So what if I do? We both know you’re faster than me.”

He hummed in agreement while slowly moving towards you.

Somehow he seemed to enjoy the slow approach today or probably just the way you reacted to it. It unnerved you just as much as the unfamiliar situation. Hermes had always been very touchy-feely but more in the way of hugs and quick soft pecks.

Now he suddenly decided to tie you to the bed and crawl on top of you? You definitely preferred hugging over this.

“Hermes please -” you started but he quickly shut you up with a kiss that made your eyes go wide with shock. He had never kissed you on the lips before.

“Don’t beg, little strawberry. It’s unbecoming for you. Also -” he paused, smiling brightly and started to play with your hair “you can’t exactly blame me for the situation, can you? It was your mistake after all.” Again with the guilt trip.

He sat back up, his eyes never straying from yours. You hoped he’d just move to sit or lay beside you but he remained on top of you, straddling your hips, restricting your movement even further with his weight.

His gaze remained fixed to yours while his hands moved to reach under your shirt and gently caress your sides. You let out a gasp of surprise at his sudden unfamiliar touches and he smiled a bit brighter in return. He wasn’t normally like this so why -?

Hands travelling further up your torso he leaned forward again so he could bury his head in your neck to shower it with kisses. That was when you finally snapped out of your freezed state and started to move beneath him. Kicking your feet and pulling at his scarf binding your wrists you tried your best to get him off you or at least to make him stop.

You did not want this. To be touched by him like this.

Yet when your movements started to annoy him Hermes simply bit down into the tender skin of your shoulder. The action made you cry out in pain yet it seemed there was something in your voice that made the god let out a content hum.

“You know, you don’t have to love me” there was sadness in his voice but it also sounded … heated. Not chipper as usual. “I love you enough for both of us. But, you know -” he moved his head so he could look at you. There was a strange fire in his eyes that sent shivers down your spine and caused a lump to form in your throat. “I really hope you’ll love me one day, my strawberry.”

Then he kissed you. Not like the quick kiss from before but passionately and heated. Almost as if he was starving and he wanted to devour you.

When you had to open your mouth to try and get some air he shoved in his tongue, deepening the kiss even more. Once the two of you finally separated you were gasping for breath.

Hermes looked down at you with a lovestruck expression on his face.

“You look so cute all flushed like this.” You could feel tears sting in your eyes as you looked at him, unable to say a word.

“I wonder how you’ll look if we go all the way.”

[karlyanalora]

“Please don’t touch me.”

It’s a request Batman gets a lot from the young people he rescues. Often they don’t use words, merely flinching at the hint of being touched. He does his best to respect it, gently explaining everything he’s doing when he does have to touch them. It breaks his heart every time and he strives to bring the monsters in their lives to justice. But justice won’t undo the hurt they’ve suffered. 

“Please don’t touch me,” Dick says after being summoned away from Catalina Flores and Bruce somehow misses the signs he so easily identified in others.

[ratscraftz]

it wasn't a dream mommy

[frostfairysteve]

have a free snippet from Call Me, the Stevie H companion piece from Mrs Harrington's pov

☆

Shirley met John Harrington the summer before she turned 18. He had graduated six years ago, she was going to start her senior year, and they were both at the same party.

She had been drinking. He hadn’t.

She had been a virgin. And then she wasn’t.

It was never about love. It was a sober man finding a drunk girl at a party. It was about a straight man taking everything from a lesbian girl, because he could, because he was stronger, because she was too out of it to fight back.

She hadn’t been 18. He had been 24, halfway to 25.

And then she turned 18, and she was three months pregnant.

[catchperfectamericanpresidents]

"Have I ever told you," he whispered in his ear, "how beautiful your eyes look in this light?"

"WTF?!" said Andrew Jackson, adjusting his sitting position. "Come again?"

"I said," repeated Hamilton with sultry lathered voice. "HAVE. I. EVER. TOLD. YOU. HOW. BEAUTIFUL. YOUR. EYES-"

"No! I heard that part. I'm just so taken back by your statement. I think I threw up in my mouth a little,"

[writermich18]

Remember that Night Vale and Final Fantasy XV crossover prompt post I made a while back? Well, I made a 10k one-shot about it.