#it's more... killing somebody and then stealing their skin

[taz-writes]

object memories

A fic I wrote as part of my D&D druid’s backstory that I’m in the mood to share. Do you ever write something for the sole purpose of splashing around in your own prose like a dog in a kiddie pool?

TLDR: POV character Hush and her father were held prisoner by a cult for 10 years in solitary confinement, before being ritually sacrificed. Unbeknownst to the cult, Hush wasn’t quite dead and woke up later in the mass grave mortally wounded but alive. As a druid, Hush can shapeshift into animals if she’s seen and studied them before. This fic is about how she 'discovered’ her first four wildshapes in the aftermath of her ordeal, while learning to survive alone in the wilderness and fend off the hunger that threatened to consume her.

~4,600 words; CWs: gore, animal death, take ‘em seriously I’m not kidding around. I feel like there’s also something going on here with the hunger stuff, but I truly don’t know what the fuck to even call that CW. If somebody knows, let me know lol.

The rat was the first. 

She doesn’t know exactly when she reached the tipping point, but she grew intimately acquainted with the ways of the rats over the years. She spent an eternity in that dungeon, curled in the corner among her clinking chains, feeling them scurry over her in her sleep. Grew acquainted with how they move, how they think, grew used to fighting them away from what little she had to eat, bartering with them for the space, for help to stay clean, teaching them to bring her things. She watched them for generations, while they nested in the dirty little pallet that she slept on,  until they were closer friends than she’d ever had among humans. 

She knew them, inside and out, long before she knew how to change into anything. When she awoke in the aftermath and the wildshapes came, the rat was like a second skin. She slipped into the shape like a shield, slick with blood, and slithered out with the last of her breath. 

The world outside was big. 

She couldn’t heal. The first word she spoke when she took her given shape again was a rattling, empty gasp that sent sticky gore oozing through the feeble scabs over the gash in her neck. It didn’t matter how desperately she grasped for the language, how well she knew the incantation, how crisp and adamant the gestures were that should have saved her. There was no magic without sound. And her angelic heritage did little to help when whatever the source of her limited innate healing, it simply didn’t respond. 

She spent the first week or so in the glade on the edge of the forest where she collapsed after running out of time as the rat. The summer heat broiled her skin, even through the shield of the canopy, leaving her parched and aching and crisp like a dead leaf. In the haze of exhaustion, she began to treat her wounds. 

The sacrificial shift they’d dressed her in shredded easily. She wound long strips of it carefully around her waist and chest, stomach churning at the horrid sight of the injuries, and tied the rest as tightly as she could across her ragged neck before the pressure made her choke. Every motion left her dizzy and sick. She might have laid there on and off for hours or days or a month, languishing in the softest patch of moss she managed to find and dragging herself back and forth from the clear little stream that burbled a few yards away. As many moments as she could, she hid behind the rat again. The rat wasn’t bleeding. The rat was safe. The rat could forage, devouring whatever it could find, just enough to sustain her. 

She learned the rabbits next. 

Timid creatures, cautious and quick, they watched her with their wide beaded-bright eyes and darted to safety at the sound of her rattling breaths. While she waited to recover her strength between wildshapes, she watched them back, tracking the little families back and forth among the wild grasses. They were solitary, but not alone—never truly alone. 

There was a nest not far from her resting place. She stumbled across the babies on her way to the stream. Their tiny forms huddled together in a depression in the grass and she looked one in the eyes and its little ears trembled, it tucked itself deeper in the shadows, bracing, and a sudden knife twisted in the center left of her stomach. 

It took too long to realize it wasn’t the wound this time. 

Her sunburnt skin ached desperately, throbbing to the rhythm of a heart that wasn’t hers. She fumbled past to the edge of the water and dipped her face below the surface, where the chill could bring her to her senses, but the soft curves of the current brushed their way along her cheeks like the perfect ghosts of her father’s hands. 

Her lungs burned before she came back up for air. 

The next time she changed, the new shape was a rescue. She was a stranger but she smelled like the glade, and the other rabbits allowed her there. In the shadowed night they huddled together, warmed by each other’s skin, and her tiny rabbit’s heart began to calm as it hadn’t before in a very long time. 

She couldn’t remain forever. She was keenly aware, the longer she lingered, that she was far too close to the cult. Any member could stumble across her here, out on a forage or traveling to the compound, and she wouldn’t get another chance at freedom. She couldn’t risk it. When her stomach sealed enough that the insides of her abdomen didn’t spill to the outside after any major movement, she staggered to her feet like a newborn fawn and began the journey. 

She stuck to the woods. Waterdeep was a death trap, anyone could be cult-aligned, anyone could see her and they thought she was dead but she couldn’t know who might know her face. The roads were too much of a risk, populated as they were. Stealth was her only option. The angels guided her when she slept, teaching her how to find north and south in the stars, how to know clean water from stagnant, how to name the leaves and berries around her and tell which ones were safe. She treated her aches with willow bark and bandaged herself with buffers of soft clean leaves. She passed the days in the shelter of her animal forms or huddled in the shade, thinking of anything but the black spots that swarmed intermittent in her vision and the weakness in her limbs. She stayed alive. It was a near thing. 

When the berry season faded, and the leaves began to turn, the hunger snarled in her like a wild beast. 

She stumbled to the nearest town under cover of night, shielding her body with her arms, following the smell of something delicious she couldn’t name that made her gut twist with starving, nauseous desperation. It was too open, the streets too broad, but every building’s door loomed and narrowed and filled her mouth with the suffocating taste of molding earth until her heart pattered the way it did in the rabbit’s body and the outlines of the structures blurred and blackened before her eyes. A too-cold breeze swirled through the streets and she shuddered from head to toe. 

There was a man ahead in dark robes that swirled and her heart moved like rabbit’s feet fleeing in her ribcage. She forced herself to the alley, forced herself back, and bolted into the safety of the sacred darkness. 

It was like that at the next few towns, too. There were kind people, here and there. One gave her a soft dark shirt and soft dark pants when she met him in the night, thrust them at her and skittered off when she tried through rattling gasps to ask if he wanted payment; a few innkeepers let her stay the night and gave her meals in the morning that softened the hunger’s brutal edge. But it couldn’t last, because the figures in the alleyways always came back, and names that she remembered from another life haunted her until she fled back to the safety of the trees. 

The days grew colder. 

The woods were safer further south, deep and dark, filled with birdsong and the golden colors of the waning year, the colors bright as life. She’d taken a sharp rock and cut a stick to hold her weight, easing the pressure on the days when walking was too much. Her breathing was growing easier, and her neck didn’t bleed anymore. But the words that would call magic to her side still couldn’t find their way from her mind out through her lips. 

She was losing strength. The angels taught her traps and snares, but her feeble hands couldn’t tie the knots tight enough, and the few beasts she trapped slipped free when she tried to claim them. The herd of deer that once bolted at the sight of her now didn’t even flinch, the great many-pointed stag that led their numbers watching her passively while his mate and children drank at the riverside and foraged from the dying grasses. There was little to forage and less to live by, and some days the wavering mists of exhaustion hardly left her vision. 

Sometimes, on the nights the angels didn’t come, she dreamed of the stag instead. Of his glinting eyes in the brush, watching her, unafraid. She murmured prayers in the morning to whatever forces listened. 

She met the wolves in the pits of a moonless night, by way of gleaming golden eyes and an uncanny silence sweeping over her resting place, and she knew they’d come for her. She resolved herself to at least go down on her feet. 

When the first wolf lunged, she lashed out with her staff, squeezing her eyes shut against the wave of fatigue that swept through her body from head to toe and sent the blood rushing out of her head, and felt herself make contact. The beast yelped, and she blinked spots from her vision just in time to fend off a second, sending it sprawling across the scrubby ground. Her hands shook.

“Please,” she tried to rasp, though nothing but a helpless wheeze came out. The wolves paced. She shifted back, making space, feeling acid adrenaline spread slow like venom down her arms and into her fingertips, biting back the way every motion tore at the scabby flesh of her still-healing abdomen. 

The wolves kept pacing. In the dark, they moved like dancers, every footstep intentionally measured. Silent, despite their size, dwarfing her with heavy bodies—direwolves, not just wolves, but their largest and most vicious cousins. 

Her stomach growled with a ferocity that nearly sent her to her knees. 

The third wolf lunged. She grasped for the little magic she knew, one of the rare spells that remained without her voice, and scared it back with a shard of ice that burst into bitter steam across the pack. Its yelp was piercing and sharp and left her dizzy. Through the haze as she recovered, she watched the wolf pack flee. 

She dreamed of the stag that night. She dreamed of blood and the careful steps of hunting beasts, tender in the foliage. She dreamed that she staggered to uncertain feet and the stag was there, his muzzle nudging against her arm, strong and stable, as she found her way upright. She wrapped her arms around him. He was warm and smelled of musk and the gentle decay of the forest floor in fall. He didn’t flee. His fur was soft like the velveteen skin of something whose name she’d forgotten, a precious something she’d loved in another life, beyond her memory, behind the veil of the endless dark. She awoke grasping for it, the name on her lips but not close enough to catch it, even if she’d had the voice to speak. 

She dreamed fitfully, in bursts, interrupted by the empty claws of a hollow stomach scratching at the inside of her vessel like nails on slate.

The next day, something whimpered in the bushes when she went to change her bandages at the stream. She braced herself against her staff, and nudged aside the leafy branches, and found the wolf. It was panting,  golden eyes glazed grey with pain, curled up defensively with hackles raised. It growled at her approach, but the sound was weak, and tapered to a whimper. 

Near its feet, the ground was muddied with black-red blood. She traced the line from its paws to the place in its side where the fur was shaved down to muscle and a thin line of bone. The ghost of a spell and an icy projectile flashed across her memory.

Her hands were shaking again. 

She went to the water. This stream ran clear and cold, down from somewhere in the mountains, carrying the mineral taste of glaciers high above. Flakes of mud and blood trailed free from her hands when she dipped them in the current, and she watched them swirl away through the eddies and whorls. 

It was all mechanical, in the end. She pried a piece of moss from the bank, hefted it, ran it through the water and watched the dirt run off the roots towards the valley. Washed it clean, squeezed it under the surface and watched it fill with water. Stood and turned back to the forest. 

The beast didn’t calm, but it didn’t bite when she pressed the pad of moss as gently as she could against the gash. It snapped, and she looked it in the eye, waiting. Its jaws were wide, teeth yellowed and worn from use. It could tear her to ribbons even now, if it had the nerve. She wouldn’t last long. 

She washed the wound, and padded it with clean dry lichen, and flinched when she touched the beast’s side and a warmth filled her fingers that hadn’t answered her since she first returned to consciousness in the grave. She caught it like a soap bubble, soft as a memory. It settled in her chest and the breath that filled her lungs was deeper than she’d had in years. 

She’d forgotten how it felt, when the warding darkness at her center answered. When the healing power in her blood responded to her call. 

She forgot it again when the hunger returned in a wave of dizzying force, chasing all other thoughts from her mind. The wolf, rising from its rest in the hollow, tilted its head with a calculating glint and watched her. Gold eyes met gold. 

It turned to follow the water, limping ever so slightly, and padded off. 

She followed. 

The pack was waiting in a stony cavern where the stream met a sparkling river. She felt their wary gazes long before she saw them, hidden as they were among the warm grey stone. But they recognized their lost member and pounced on him, tumbling together in a massive joyful bundle over the sandy patch of riverside, and before long it was like they hadn’t even seen her. She found a bright place on a rock by the shore, and waited for the sun to warm her bones more than the hunger chilled them. 

Across the river, the bushes rustled. She knew what she’d see there. 

The stag disappeared into the brush, and her vision blackened. 

She awoke to the hot wet stickiness of a tongue on her face, and flinched, recoiling from the threat. In front of her sat the injured direwolf. 

“Hi,” she whispered, bracing herself. “Hi there.” The words stuck in her wound and scraped. 

The wolf cocked its head, stood, and licked her face again. It… did not try to bite her head off. This was not a situation she had anticipated. She particularly did not expect to be licked a third time. The wolf’s breath almost made her faint again. 

Behind the wounded animal, the packmates slunk forward, watching her. Waiting. 

The hunger in their eyes was a mirror of her own, and the shapechange came in its aching wake. 

She followed them, that night, in a wolfish skin that matched their own. It wasn’t long before she had to pause, the time limits of her wildshapes forcing her back to rest while the pack moved on, but the howl carried on. They didn’t like to leave their own behind. She learned their faces—the mother the first to lunge, the father the second, the grown pups that followed them with their own faces and minds and hearts. They walked the trails of the forest, and she learned their gait, their stalking dance, their silent patience. 

She slept between great warm bodies, and dreamed of blood and meat and the beasts that once wore the bite-marked bones on the floor of the den. 

In the days, she jostled with the pups as one of them while she could. When she couldn’t, she rested on the rock by the river, while the echoes gnawing in her stomach dueled the white-hot claws of her bone-deep scars. She scrounged late-season eggs from a duck’s nest and swallowed them raw, on her hands and knees in the riverbank mud, eggshells scraping her gums and spilled yolk staining the ground, and coughed up half what she found when her scarred neck screamed with pain from bending low. It staved off the ache for an hour. She scraped up the spilled remains in her hands and wept. 

On the fifth night, she followed the pack to a valley full of marsh-weed, where they found a limping boar. The pack struck in a whirl of fur and fangs, iron-stink staining the water. They fought her back from the bounty until the leaders took their share, but the scraps she claimed sated something, hot and vicious in the pit of her gut. 

It was enough for a day. 

She dreamed of it after, the blood that dripped from her fangs, the viscera on her tongue, the hot iron taste of it, the texture of muscle rending against her jaw. The heat on her lips and gums, bone crushing and crunching and cracking in her grasp, the relief like a soft warm pelt at the end of a long day’s journey as the soft squishing prey slid down her gullet like a prayer… 

She dreamed of it night after night after night, waking with saliva in her mouth, thinking of it between the angels’ words, the ghost of that sensation dancing through her mouth in all her forms. She sat by the river and echoed it, conjuring up the giving resistance of flesh under her teeth, biting her tongue till it bled to remember the taste. She dreamed of nothing but. She dreamed even in her waking hours, as the first autumn frost laced over the land and the pack sat full and happy from the hunt. 

She dreamed of it until the dream consumed her, empty of everything but teeth. 

She left the den on an ice-bitter evening under ponderous slate skies when the dull weight of the thought hung heavy like an overripe fruit, when she wondered what the wolves would feel like beneath her fangs, if their heavy furs would rip and tear the way that scrap of boar did or if they’d linger in the teeth and scratch and bristle. She slunk up the hill to the north on the pack’s favored trail, filling her muzzle with the scent of heavy musk and petrichor. 

The stag was waiting. 

His antlers glinted in the cold dead moonlight, graceful as a halo, round as the crescent moon. He turned his head. She met his eyes and lunged. 

She tore out the flesh of his neck like pages from a holy book, paper beneath her fangs as his blood ran like wine at a ritual. His stomach opened just as easily, staining the fallen leaves in garish scarlet, and his legs kicked feebly as she tore through the viscera that spilled free, relishing in the iron stench. Mouthful after mouthful, she ate her fill. She tore through muscle and tendon until she finally sank her teeth into his bright-hot heart and swallowed it in shreds. It might have still been beating, or the pulse between her jaws might have been her own, racing and vicious. She felt every piece reach her stomach, filling the void, hot in her chest like a hearthfire, bright as a star, sweet and tangy in the wolf’s senses and prickling in her own. 

She hunted the liver down among the mess and swallowed it next, and the kidneys, and parts she knew no name for that glistened red and pink and sickish yellow in the light. She savored the feeling, the soft wet warm of it, the taste of the life that would fuel her own. She pried out the lowest of his ribs and it crackled in her jaws and she chewed out the marrow until there was nothing left of worth. 

She didn’t know when he stopped moving, only that eventually, he did. It took too long. 

When the wolf’s stomach filled, she lost the shape and scrabbled at the stag with her own weak human-shaped hands, her fingers shaking, nails digging into the slickened meat for purchase and prying up scraps to devour. She shook and shuddered and buried her own face into the stag’s shattered chest, drinking the lifeblood until it dried sticky on the edges of her skin, until she was full, until her aching stomach silenced and stopped and grew bloated with bleeding flesh. 

She raised her head and her gaze caught upon his eyes. They were wide, and glassy, and milky with the haze of death. 

She turned away from the kill and threw up nothing but bile, choking on the taste of steel. 

“Thank you,” she murmured, too hoarse for anyone to hear, shuffling to the side and cradling his head in her lap, the warm blood filling her soft dark pants and seeping through to her skin. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Thank you.” 

She leaned over him, wrapped her arms around his neck, curling her fingers into his short soft fur. Velveteen. Buried her face in his, her eyes hot and stinging, she swore she felt the ghosts of hands in her hair as the blood dried sticky on her face and melted down her cheeks. She clutched him tight enough to strain the scabs down her chest and belly, threatening to once again reopen the wounds. And she stayed there, waiting, until nothing came. Her stomach was quiet. 

As she rose to her feet, she carefully bent and lifted as much of the stag as her body could manage. He was lighter than seemed fair, even to her haggard limbs. 

Her hands didn’t shake. 

There were hunters in these woods. The angels had told her, murmurs in the night, between the endless thoughts of hunger. They could help her. She stumbled through the brush, dragging the stag behind her, listening for someone larger than herself. 

In the hours before the dawn, she found a young man in the valley, carrying a crossbow and a knife. He stiffened at her approach, and stood there wide-eyed, watching. 

The words she spoke to explain herself died in rasping whistles in her throat, but still he watched, rapt, his eyes darting between the stag and her own face. 

“You… you killed that?” the man asked, gesturing. 

She nodded. Her neck twinged. She felt the man’s gaze skirt over her scarred neck, her hands slick with blood, the wrinkled scabby mess of her stomach where it was visible between the hem of her shirt and her makeshift belt. 

“Do you… need to… take it somewhere?” She shook her head. The man swallowed. “That’s a lot of meat for one person. Erm…” He looked around, and she tilted her head. “…Do you know how to treat it? If you’re planning to eat that yourself, you probably want to salt-preserve it, it’ll spoil quickly otherwise. I could… help?” 

She shook her head quickly, forcefully, then nodded, please, and the man flinched.  But he was true to his word. 

He led her to a clearing, his hands fluttering and his soft eyes nervous as she followed like a wraith, and showed her how to lay the stag down and open the rest of its body with a clean sharp knife. How to strip the meat from the bones, careful and keen, and process it into chunks and then lay it in pieces in salt to let it dry. She watched the process with singleminded focus, noting down every last motion, memorizing each flick of the knife. 

He let her borrow his blade, so she could clean the carcass and keep that velveteen skin. With a few weeks’ drying and treatment, it would make a good blanket to last the winter through. She stripped the stag to the bones, and kept those as trophies. That night, the angels taught her to sharpen them into knives. 

When the man had left, knife and bow in hand, retreating into the shadows, she realized that he never once quite looked her in the eyes. 

She kept the skull. Late at night she stared into its face, searching for the glint of the stag’s all-knowing gaze in the depths of his bones, knowing there was nothing on the other side. She stared at him until somewhere deep inside, a part of her became him. Until his eyes became her own. 

She took the form of a deer in the morning, wearing the weight of his antlers like a crown. The herd moved by her in the bushes and watched her like a ghost. 

She went south. The winter was upon her, and it was time again to travel. The herd had enough to haunt them.

[astralnymphh]

thinking about skin-to-skin with jackson!ellie. naturally, ellie forgets to even change out of her day clothes, so more often than not, she hits the hay in that grungy and lint-littered hoodie of hers you only achieve stealing from her every once in a while. ergo, she was a bit apprehensive and questioning the first time you suggested it, the term flooring her to confusion.

“skin-to-skin? sounds like some sort of.. culty-ritual type thing. are you in a cult?” her face a contortion of mock bewilderment, eyebrows scrunched together.

“no!” you scowl, genuinely dumbfounded. “you're so stupid, babe.” which, if you were genuine through and through, you would digress to say she really isn't. she's a dumbass depending on the weather, or the hour of the day.

but when you earnestly explain it into that intrigued-girlfriend ear of hers, snuggled up to her arm in only a bra, it marks her face with sudden interest, and she is rid of that doltish act and replacing it with amusement as she watches you slowly strip her hoodie. “here, trust me, it's very calming.” fingers and thumbs alike pushing up and over that linty hem.

be careful what you wish for dating ellie, because as soon as you two actually devoted your bare skin against each other, she fell asleep. arms and legs wrapped around you like you're a cuddly teddy bear, and you couldn't escape for the rest of the night through. it truly felt sedative: the feel of basking in the heat of her skin and no source else, you could die in this position if granted the eternal release. and her snores, oh my god her snores: in no way obnoxious but in every way gentle, drawing and blowing into your chest. ellie made sure no inch of you went without her; the idea that her hands are her only convenience of touching you, wanes away. this is exactly what you were searching for.

it was exactly what ellie needed, too. how flawlessly timed you were, to bring something that would bring ellie back to you. out of the woods. out of the hardships. arguing with joel was hard enough, so to have somebody who she could just phase into and mark the death of day softly with, she takes it whole. in fact, she appreciates the act more than you, pressing her breasts against your back the moment she slips into bed, even on the nights you never planned to do skin-to-skin. it has become—essential. it puts her innate pleasures into perspective and kills her defenses. “mhh—skins s'warm,” she slurs tiredly, and her warm breath is soft and crackly in her chords, fogging up your nape. where she nestles into, talks against. “but ur' bra's still on. wanna feel your skin, can i take it off? hmm?”

[darklordofthesimp]

Ipseity (Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader)

Part of the "Anything" verse, can be read as a standalone.

Summary: When the 141 has to make a choice between saving you or a fellow sniper, you know that your time has come to an end.

A/N: This was meant to be a short filler and now it's like 4.5k long. Hope you're all happy.

Category: Angst || Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: Graphic Language | Graphic Violence | Gun Violence | Graphic Description of Injury

The ringing in your ears woke you up. 

It was a high-pitched squeal that scrambled your thoughts and made your head pound. You couldn't think straight, you couldn't get past the overwhelming dizziness whenever you tried to raise your chin.

Blood stung your eyes. Your chest burned. You hadn’t been in this much pain in years, every pinch of your nerves prodded at long-forgotten childhood memories. They were things that had been left behind from before you enlisted, things that no longer mattered. What mattered was that you were tied to a chair and barely breathing. 

You were going to die here. 

And nobody was coming to save you. 

"Oh,” someone crooned from behind your seat. You didn’t have the strength to turn your neck and you thanked whatever cruel deity was listening that you hadn’t flinched. The least you could do was fake some courage for what was to come. 

“Come back for more?” Your mouth was dry, wretchedly so. You wanted to gag and spit, but there was no moisture in your mouth- it was like sandpaper. 

“There’s not much left in you for me to take, Sol,” Valeria said, her fingers trailing the length of your shoulder. Your body shivered beneath her touch as she slowly circled your chair, a cruel smile tugging at the corner of her lips. 

“Oh, I’ve always got something left for you, gorgeous,” you chuckled, flashing the drug lord a weak grin. 

She snorted, the harsh light of the overhead lamp illuminating the edges of her features. She was a sharp woman, Valeria, somebody that you secretly admired. Not for her deeds or the atrocities she’d committed, but for her tenacity and her ambition- there was no stopping her. 

“You’ve always been my favourite sniper, you know,” Valeria mused, pulling her hand from your skin to inspect it. Your blood stained her fingers, thick and warm from where it had oozed from your wounds.

“You usually kill your favourite snipers?” You tried to raise your eyebrow but sharp pain ripped through your face, you realized dimly that the skin of your forehead had been split.

“Only when they steal things that belong to me, Luz,” Valeria whispered, pressing her hands against the armrests and leaning in. “Then, I kill them.” 

“We didn’t do it,” you met her gaze evenly, the false claim falling easily from your lips. 

“You’d die a liar to protect your friends,” she nodded thoughtfully. “It’s unfortunate that they have chosen not to give you the same courtesy.” 

You frowned, taken aback by the statement. You suspected that the 141 wouldn’t be there in time, you’d come to terms with the fact that your journey might end here. But, the way she’d said it… it was as if you were missing something. 

Valeria’s brows raised, eyes wide as she mocked your surprise with a gasp. “Oh, I must have forgotten to mention it earlier.” 

“Mention what?” You ground out through your teeth. 

The drug lord huffed a laugh, pushing off from your seat and standing upright. Sweat began to form in a thin sheen across your skin, anxiety running rampant through your system. 

What did she mean? 

Valeria’s eyes hardened as she tutted under her breath, pulling the blade on her thigh from its sheath. When her attention turned back to you, the malice in her gaze made your spine straighten. 

“What you stole from me,” she began, pointing the knife towards your face, “got someone very close to me killed.” 

You swallowed thickly, your throat like gravel and your tongue like concrete. 

The woman was seething now, the cool facade that she’d worn had melted into pure vitriol and hatred. It was an expression you’d never seen on her but on so many others throughout the years, it was the stare of someone who blamed you for their loss. 

“So, as penance,” Valeria pressed the tip of the blade to rest against your chest, “your Task Force will have to lose one of their own- even after they bring me the information.” 

“What-” 

“We have the other sniper,” the drug lord shrugged. “The little broken one.” 

Your heart stalled in your chest, fear dousing your body like a bucket of ice water. Blood rushed through your ears, loud and roaring and all-consuming with the sound. You couldn’t think straight, the image of your colleague being tortured flashed across your vision like a spotlight. 

“Birdy.” You whispered the name but it sounded like a plea rather than a statement. Valeria must have heard the begging in your voice because she only smiled. 

“Birdy,” she confirmed, with a smug tilt of her head. 

God, please no. 

“Let them go!” You lurched against your restraints. 

The latina's eyes were like stone, hard and unyielding. She was in pain, she was hurting and now it was her chance to hurt you all for what you’d done.

“I will,” she nodded her head soothingly, fingers coming to trace your trembling jaw. You snatched your face from her touch and she raised a brow. When she leaned back with a sigh, you knew what was coming. 

Valeria struck you hard. 

The wounds on your face screamed and it felt like someone was making you gargle molten lava. Your eyes watered but you made no sound, you gave her nothing to indicate that she’d hurt you. 

“The 141 will bring me what they stole,” Valeria sucked in a breath, watching you from beneath her lashes. “But they can only save one of you.” 

Your eyes widened. 

They can only save one of you. 

You knew then that you were going to die here. 

“What’s the matter, pequeño sol?” Valeria spoke with a mocking lilt. Your body trembled. “You don’t think they will come for you?” 

“No.” 

The word was soft and broken and you wondered if the drug lord had even heard it. The way that her smile wavered implied that she did. 

“No,” she nodded, standing straight. “Neither do I.”

If you hadn’t been so shattered, you would have seen the glimmer of pity pass over her features. 

You took in a deep breath in an attempt to calm yourself, "will you keep your word?"

"What?" 

"Will you keep your word?" You repeated firmly. No one was stupid enough to trust the word of a drug lord but right there and then you would take it as law. If you were going to die you needed to know that Birdy would be safe. 

Your eyes bore into hers. Valeria swallowed and you could see her hesitation, the desire to spit on the dying flame in your chest and put it out. 

Instead, the woman only nodded. 

"I will." 

Instantly, you relaxed in your seat and leaned your head back with a sigh. You closed your eyes, fighting the tears that had gathered along your lashes. 

This was it. 

This was the end of it. 

You weren't stupid enough to expect anyone to come save you, not when Birdy's life hung in the balance. There was never a doubt about who was more valued on the team, despite your skills you'd never be able to contend with Birdy's spot on the team. 

It wasn't about who was better, it was about who was loved. 

And nobody in the 141 loved you more than they loved Birdy. 

No one. 

Your lips trembled and you fury rose like a volcanic eruption from within your chest. You would not die crying. You would not die without dignity. 

"I'll be leaving to retrieve my package," Valeria sighed, sheathing her knife. "Once the handover is made, my men will put you down."

You grinned.

"After all we've been through," you feigned hurt. "I thought you'd want to do the honors, gorgeous." 

But Valeria didn't bite. She didn't laugh nor did she retaliate, the woman only watched you with an unreadable expression. 

"We are the same, me and you, Sunshine." The drug lord stood tall, "Deberías haber sido valorado. Morir con orgullo."

You blinked dumbly.  "I don't know what the fuck you said but I'm going to assume you think I'm hot and that you regret not sleeping with me before I die." 

Valeria rolled her eyes and turned away. 

"You act tough, Sol. Don't die thinking this is anything but a betrayal."

Betrayal. 

You offered nothing but a snort, laughing the chill of her words off your spine.

The woman left the room and immediately the silence was overwhelming. There was no one to lie to now, no one to throw your facade at. You found yourself almost asking her to stay as she closed the door behind her, biting your tongue to reserve your dignity. But, you didn't want to be alone, not when the end was approaching so quickly.

 Though, you guess you'd done this to yourself. 

Always good, but never enough. König was your best friend, but you knew he'd leave you in a heartbeat to save the sniper he truly loved- you couldn't ask any differently from him. 

After all, if it had been between him and Ghost, you were sure you'd make the same decision. 

A pathetic tragedy in itself considering the feeling wasn't mutual.

Simon Riley loved Birdy, just as the rest of them did.

You would never compare, you'd never come close, not with your ambitious demeanor- not with your shitty attitude. You'd never allowed yourself to view them as family and when they'd tried to include you, you hadn't let them in. 

If your own family had wronged you, your own flesh and blood, what would the 141 do any differently?

By the looks of the situation: nothing. 

No one was coming to save you. 

The burning beneath your lids became so aggressive you wanted to tear the skin from your face. You wanted to gouge out your eyes, just so that the only thing dripping would be blood- not tears. 

Never tears. 

You were not Birdy, you did not cry. 

You were not Birdy. 

You'd never be Birdy. 

The pressure in your chest grew and swelled and suffocated, extinguishing the fire you'd kept burning for years. Through everything, you'd held strong. Through hellfire and brimstone, you'd crawled your way across death and misfortune to emerge from the ashes stronger. 

You did not break. Not until now. 

A scream ripped from your chest, unrecognizable. It wasn't you who wailed, it was the child inside who mourned their life. It was the adult who'd never been loved the way they'd prayed for in the dead of the night.

Never enough.

Never enough for König, the man who always found himself by Birdy's side, chasing for the crumbs of their attention.

Never enough for Simon Riley, who'd taken your heart and crushed it every time he watched you with distaste- with disappointment.   

You were never the priority. 

Never his priority. 

You'd never be anything to Ghost, not the way Birdy was.

But you were not Birdy and you'd not die wishing that you were. 

You pulled at your restraints, thrashing in your chair with renewed energy. While you knew it was unlikely you'd escape, at least you'd be put down fighting. 

"Hey!" One of Valeria's henchmen shouted. 

You struggled harder, the skin of your wrists ripping from beneath the ties. Fresh blood trailed down your fingers and you smeared it wherever you could reach, wetting the braided rope until it was slick with crimson rage.

Your heart jumped as your hands slipped through the restraints, the gory lubrication helping you pull your crumpled fingers free. 

"Stop!" The cool metal of a barrel pressed against your forehead, putting an instant halt on your plans. 

You glared up at the man before you, his eyes were hard but his hand trembled, the weapon jittering against your skull. 

"I will fucking paint this room with your brains," he hissed, the cigarette in his mouth jolting with each word. "Try me, I dare you." 

"If the 141 comes with the package and I'm dead, Valeria will butcher your entire family, cabrón." You were careful as you spoke, enunciating each word as clearly as you could muster. 

The butt of his weapon struck your cheek hard enough to send stars skittering across your vision. 

"I speak," the man hissed, "not you."

"I'm trying to warn you-" 

He hit you again, this time harder. You felt your teeth dislodge from in your mouth and panic gripped your heart as they slid down your throat. 

"I said don't speak!" He shouted, the words warbled as your vision spun. Your head lolled to the side, gagging as you choked on your own bones. Bile speared through your chest as a combination of blood and stomach acid hit the floor weakly. Your teeth clattered across the ground, like dice rolling across the board. 

"Ricky!" The man called over his shoulder. "Alguna palabra sobre el paquete?

"Aún nada, hermano."

"Mierda! ¿Por qué tarda tanto?"

The conversation fell on deaf ears as you fought to keep yourself conscious. Your hands were freed but now the element of surprise was lost and there was a barrel pressed against your face. 

"I should kill you right now," the man spat in English. "You fucking murdered my brothers like a coward."

"They should learn to duck," you shrugged weakly. 

This time when he hit you, it threw your seat backward. You hadn't been able to move your hands in time before the weight of your body and the steel spines of the chair slammed against your forearms. 

A sickening crunch reverberated through the room, echoing like the toll of a church bell and while that was loud, your scream was deafening. 

"Let's be honest with ourselves, Sunshine," the man laughed, watching you as you writhed and sobbed. "Nobody is coming to save you." 

He cocked the weapon slowly, leaning down to press the barrel against your forehead once again. You couldn't even keep your eyes open as you struggled for breath, choking on your own spit and blood as you shrieked. You wanted to watch him, you wanted to go down with defiance- but fear gripped your throat so tightly you were choking on it.

You weren't going to die fighting. 

You were going to die suffering. 

When the gunshot came, your body recoiled so hard that your head smashed the concrete beneath you. In that horrible moment of silence that followed, you wondered if there was no peace even in death. Agony ripped through your nervous system, every inch of your body screamed for relief. 

If this was death, then you were in hell. 

"Think again, cunt."

The distinct cockney accent had your spine straightening and your eyes snapping open. 

The gun clattered beside your head, unfired. 

You weren't dead. 

"Sunshine!"

You were being saved. 

"Talk to me, Sunshine!" 

The voice was so far away, he was too far away, he wasn't going to make it. You weren't going to make it. The man on the floor next to you must have sat back up because you could feel his hands gripping your shoulders, the gun rattling in your ears. 

Fingers gripped your face, jostling you from your semi-conscious state. Your vision was blurred by your own blood and tears, the figure before you a mess of shadows. You screamed, trying to pull your broken arms from beneath the chair to defend yourself until help got to you. 

Searing hot pain ran up the lengths of your arms and stabbed into your neck. You gagged, a low bellow wrenching from your throat as you heaved. 

"Stop! Stop! Don't move!" 

"Get away from me!" You wailed, voice shrill and unhinged. You tugged again and this time his hands came down on your shoulders. 

"SUNSHINE!"

The roar of your name made your entire body freeze, clutching you by the throat with the desperation behind the callsign. You closed your eyes, a whimper falling from your lips to taint your dignity. 

"Jesus." He sounded like Ghost. It couldn't have been him but, God, you wished it was. "Come on, Sweetheart. Look at me." 

"I can't see," you wept. 

His thumbs swept over your face, gloves wiping the blood from where it had settled on your lids and lashes. You tried again, blinking the crimson liquid from your eyes as best you could. You imagined that you looked a sight, the whites of your eyes a deep red, stained with evidence of your injuries. Finally, your vision settled. 

Simon stared back at you, eyes wide. 

You gasped. 

"Simon?" You slurred, his name broken on your lips. 

"Yeah, Sunshine. S'me." He murmured distractedly. His fingers were twitching on your neck, scanning the rest of your body for injuries.

Your heart was beating against your ribs, sudden anxiety flooding your being.  If he was here it meant that they'd brought the package to you rather than to Birdy. 

That meant… 

"No, no, no," you whispered as the Lieutenant lifted the chair with one hand, pulling your broken hands from behind your back. "No, no, Simon, what're you doing here?" 

Ghost recoiled slightly, a frown overtaking his features. "The fuck do you mean?" 

"Birdy," you rasped, a sob building in your chest. "You need to get Birdy. What about Birdy?" 

"Birdy's-" 

You fought to stand up, pushing him out of the way as you stumbled to your feet. Your body swayed side to side as your vision swam, but you weren't going down- not again. 

"Need a gat. Need Birdy- we can't lose Birdy. Everybody needs Birdy-" 

"Sunshine." 

"I can't lose Birdy!" You snapped, reeling on your superior with a broken gaze. 

For a moment, he stood frozen, speechless. You'd never recover if they killed the other sniper, no one would. Everyone would blame you, it'd be your fault.

"König's got Birdy," Ghost said slowly, straightening to stand to his full height. "I've got you, Sunshine."

You gawked at him as though you hadn't understood a single word he'd said. Realistically, you truly hadn't. They'd come for you, knowing that it would put everyone at risk. 

Simon had come for you, leaving Birdy to a man that he hated with every ounce of his being. 

Simon had come for you, not Birdy. 

"You're here?" You whispered and although it sounded fucking stupid, Ghost only nodded. He knew what you were really asking. 

"Of course," he said. "Of course, I am."

"You came for me?" Your voice broke.

The soldier shuffled on his feet, shaking his head as though he thought it was obvious. 

"I'd follow you anywhere. We both know it," he huffed, that dark gaze pinning your soul to your chest. 

You rocked forward at the words, knees buckling from beneath you. Simon shot forward instantly, his arms looping around your waist and hauling you upward. His hand came to grip your chin, fingers slapping your cheek lightly as your eyes rolled backward. 

"Come on, Sweetheart. Stay with it, it's nothin',"  he growled, jostling your body to keep you conscious. Your head fell forward to rest against his shoulder, ears ringing and your mind shattered. "Sunshine, stay awake for me."

You couldn't any longer, you couldn't listen to him. He should have been used to it by now, you'd always been the troublesome one for him. Never directly disobeying him but never doing it the way he asked, always driving him bat-shit fucking crazy- always under his skin. 

But, if Simon couldn't save you, you'd die happy knowing that he'd even tried. 

You'd die happy knowing that somebody loved you. 

—

When you thought of dying, you always had such a visceral image of what would happen. You'd be the last one on your line, and the rest of your unit would be shot down; you'd make a stand on a hill and wipe out the enemy until you were out of ammo. Then, you would fight until you were overwhelmed. 

That was the death you'd imagined. 

Not abandoned and left alone in a warehouse in a sick game of "pick the sniper you like more." 

"They'll fully recover physically," someone sighed from above your head. "Mentally, though…" 

"They'll be right," Simon finished. 

"That's what they said about Birdy," the doctor muttered. "We all know how that ended." 

"Doc-" 

"Saint."

Simon cleared his throat. 

"Saint," the callsign foreign on his tongue, "Sunshine's not Birdy."

To hear it from Simon Riley himself was all the validation you needed. 

You stirred in the bed and immediately all conversation fell quiet, the both of them waiting for you to fully awaken. 

You knew you were in the hospital before your eyes opened. You recognised the doctor who was talking, a medic who had yelled at you often for ‘being reckless.’ The smell of antiseptic was near seared into your memory and the sound of the monitor beeping was too familiar. 

However, the room was brighter than you’d anticipated and you cringed into your pillow with a moan. The overhead light stung your eyes, searing your retinas and making it near impossible for you to think. 

“Get the lights,” Saint ordered, realizing what the issue was. 

The room fell dim, enough for you to finally pry your lids open and have a look around. Your jaw felt heavy like there was cotton in your mouth. As you probed with your tongue, you realised with a pitted stomach that there actually was something stuffed between your teeth. 

You moaned, reaching upward to pull it out. 

It was as though you’d set off a bomb with the movement. Both Simon and Saint immediately shot forward, hands on your arms to rest them by your side gently. They stood on either side of your bed, like two sentries, one dark and one light. 

“Gonna need you to just relax a second for me, spitfire,” Saint chuckled. 

You huffed, fighting the urge to gag on the material in your mouth. Your tongue ran over it, moving to dislodge it from where it had been wedged between your teeth. 

“Now,” the doctor leaned over to adjust your drip. “Do you remember your name and what happened?” 

Rather than respond, you opted to slowly let the gauze fall out of your mouth and onto your chest. Saint watched you with a deadpan expression as you fought with your facial injuries to perform this feat. 

At the end of it, you offered a weak smile. 

A long moment of silence ensued before the doctor sighed, staring at the lumps of bloody fabric sitting on the gown. 

“I’m gonna go grab some shit,” they said. “Maybe a fuckin’ whiskey.” 

They disappeared from the room swiftly, leaving you alone with the Grim Reaper himself. With a harsh sigh through his nose, the Lieutenant reached over and scooped up the gauze, dropping them into the bin. 

“You couldn’t just answer the question?” He muttered, moving to crouch by your head. He wore only his balaclava, his hoodie down for once. 

“Not with that in my mouth,” you rasped, words thick and sickly. 

Simon snorted softly but he said nothing, opting to watch you instead. His gaze ran from your hair to your neck, over and over as if he were committing you to memory. His expression was gentle but there was something hidden that made you think that, at that moment, he was extremely vulnerable. 

Anything you said from this point on would determine the relationship between you both. You remembered what he’d confessed when he found you beaten and bloody on the floor. It was clear as day and imprinted on your brain as though it had been branded on the inside of your skull. 

“I would follow you anywhere. We both know it.” 

You’d both reached the point of no return, no more smoke and mirrors, no more half-truths. Neither of you could get away with hiding your feelings behind hatred anymore. 

Not after he’d chosen you. 

“You came for me,” you whispered. A statement, not a question this time.

“Of course,” he said again, just as he had before. 

You hadn’t realised you were crying until his hand cupped your cheek, his thumb wiping the tears from your cheeks ever so gently. As much as you hated it, as much as you wanted to stop, you couldn’t hold them back. 

The relief was palpable, the understanding that you were valued was freeing. 

Simon Riley knew the kind of person you were, right at your very core, and he still chose to love you. He still chose to hold your hand and dry your tears with nothing but pure reverence in his gaze. 

You realized then and there, that you were valued.

You were enough.

[jsluvtzu]

location

im nayeon x fem!reader

summary: there’s no point in hiding, she already knows.

cw: hs!au, smuttt, mentions of killing, cursing, nayeon is soso jealous, men dni

wc: 2.7k

a/n: this took forever to come out i’m sorry!! but jealous/possessive/toxic nayeon.. i need you…

“wait, so you’ve never gone anywhere without letting her know first?”, your friend was appalled at hearing how nayeon kept tabs on you at all times.

“no, never. i always have to call her first and tell her exactly where i’m going and when i’m gonna be back home. it’s fucking ridiculous.”

you were beyond frustrated with your girlfriend’s possessive nature and borderline stalking.

“well.. except for today.”

“holy shit?? she doesn’t know you’re here? what if she kills you..” your friend’s eyes widen at her sudden realization, “what if she kills me??”, she points at herself and watches as you smack your forehead and lean back against her couch, cackling at her ridiculous question.

“mia, she’s not gonna kill you, relax. she’s just a little protective.”

honestly you were trying to convince both her and yourself. there was always a small possibility that your girlfriend could actually kill somebody.

you knew how carried away she got when it came to you.

—

nayeon was the captain of the cheer team. the popular superstar who ran the social scene at school. she was always getting hit on by random boys and no matter how many times she rejected them, they always came back desperate for more.

people basically kissed the ground she walked on, willing to do anything to please her and make her fall for them. it was an honor to get even a second of im nayeon’s attention.

you however, couldn’t care less even if she was in the same class as you.

in your 6th period physics class, being able to have nayeon as a lab partner was like a dream come true. boys would swarm her desk like bees immediately at the mention of a partner lab, but you never understood the big deal behind it.

of course you thought nayeon was pretty.

her daily pinked-out outfits, perfectly styled hair, not too heavy makeup, and the skin-tight cheer uniform she wore every friday. everything she wore accentuated her proportions insanely.

she was beautiful, but losing your mind over her like everyone else was just pointless to you.

you had one person you were willing to be friends with out of the whole class. mia.

she was just like you. normal and not nayeon obsessed. the two of you always stayed towards the back of the room and kept to yourselves. nayeon noticed that.

well more specifically, nayeon noticed you.

she noticed the way your hair was always a little messy, your oversized shirts always had a little wrinkle to them, your pants were always too baggy, and your worn out converse were caked in with dirt and childhood memories.

she could fix you.

when nayeon first approached you about her overdue homework in the halls, you acted as if she was bothering you instead of granting you the privilege of her presence. it wasn’t the usual interaction she would have with somebody.

unlike the rest of the school, you were the only one able to make eye contact with her and not fold in half.

for the first time, nayeon could have a genuine conversation with someone without being treated like a celebrity.

you were special to her. and she wanted you all to herself.

when you two started dating, word spread around like wildfire. everyone wanted you dead.

the football team threatened you everyday, calling you a lowlife loser and confidently describing the ways they would steal nayeon away from you.

it’s not like you were worried about nayeon being “stolen” from you. it was bound to happen given her popularity. but nobody knew that it was actually nayeon who was worried about you being stolen from her.

she was terrified of losing the one person who could actually love her for who she is and not just what she looks like.

nayeon was worried about one person in particular. your friend, mia. you were always oblivious to the fact that she had a slight thing for you.

the subtle touches here and there, the way she complimented you, the way she looked at you. it was all just platonic to you, but to nayeon, she was a threat.

now imagine how she feels when she finds out you’re suddenly at mia’s house. alone with her.

—

there was a random movie playing in the background while you both sat on the couch sharing a blanket, talking about your girl problems.

mia listened to you with a heavy heart, knowing she could definitely treat you better than nayeon can.

“is she just protective or is she crazy..? i mean you deserve to go places without her knowing your whereabouts 24/7 right? it’s your life, you can do whatever you want. if i was your girlfriend, i wouldn’t be so fucking insane.”, mia was disappointed at how long you’ve had to put up with this.

“hey, she’s not insane okay, it’s all just new to her.. the whole authenticity thing with another person. she doesn’t know how to handle it yet.”

you were slightly offended at mia’s harsh words about your girlfriend, but you agreed with her nonetheless. it was draining having to constantly tell nayeon where you were all the time.

a sudden buzz on your phone made you jump and freeze at the fear of facing your reality.

nayeonie 🎀 1m ago i’m outside.

“what is it, y/n?” mia asked with a hint of concern in her tone, seeing how your demeanor changed.

“she’s.. outside.”, your heart dropped reading your girlfriend’s text, scrambling your brain together to figure out how she tracked you down.

“what do you mean she’s outside??”

“i don’t fucking know, mia. okay?! she just found out somehow, and now she’s fucking here.”, you didn’t mean to yell at her, but your anxiety overtook you.

“i have to go.”

you threw the knitted blanket off your legs and grabbed your bag, racing out the door without saying another word.

nayeon’s car was parked along the curb and her almost illegally tinted windows blocked you from seeing her face.

you slowly walked towards her car, clutching your belongings tightly. a weak attempt at stopping your heart from beating out of your chest.

when nayeon was angry, it was like a flipped switch. she became explosive and aggressive.

but surprisingly, when you opened the door, nayeon kept her eyes straight ahead. she didn’t say a word to you. she had her left arm hanging loosely over the top of the steering wheel, and her right hand gripping the gearshift, fingers tapping a frantic beat.

you were afraid to break the silence. the atmosphere was suffocating and filled with nayeon’s concealed, but obvious irritation.

“how.. how did you know where i was?”, your leg bouncing restlessly and your voice hoarse from nervousness.

nayeon didn’t respond and that only worried you even more. usually she would be screaming in your face about something like this, but today? pure silence.

“nay.. answer me? please?”, you turned to look at your girlfriend and saw her stoic expression. you hated this. you would rather just hear her go off on you instead.

“i’m sorry for not telling you, okay? i just needed some space.”

nayeon slammed down on the brakes and your whole body jerked forward. your mouth fell open, shocked and unable to form any words. you were just glad it was a secluded road with no cars behind.

“space? you just needed some fucking space?”

nayeon stared daggers into your soul, her eyes darkened by her jealousy.

she pulled over to the gravelly side of the road, taking her key out and clicking off her seatbelt.

somehow she appeared on your right side in the blink of an eye, yanking the door open and forcefully grasping your arm.

nayeon peeled you out of the seat, simultaneously opening the backseat door with one hand. she guided you forward until you reached the perfect spot for her to shove you down into the hard leather.

you winced at her roughness and caressed your head in pain, composing yourself enough to sit up and scoot yourself back against the window.

“thought you could just go to some other bitch’s house and i wouldn’t find out hm?” nayeon slid into the seat behind the passenger’s and slammed her car door shut.

she was smiling like an absolute psychopath. her face contrasted her words drastically between her soft tone and bared teeth.

“was the ‘space’ you needed in her bed? huh? needed some space between your fucking legs?”

nayeon surveyed the skimpy clothes you wore, messing with the thin fabric of your skirt.

“you even dressed up all nice and pretty for her baby. you were tempting her weren’t you? hm? just wanted her to see all your pretty parts?”

nayeon rubbed her warm hands along the length of your legs to the insides of your thighs, squeezing them lightly on the way up.

“please can we just talk about this, nay. i don’t wanna fuck right now.”, you were trying so hard to fight back the urge to give in when you felt your girlfriend’s hand get dangerously close to your clit.

nayeon hummed and moved her hands up to your waist, rubbing her thumbs over whatever was exposed from your tight crop top.

“but there’s nothing to talk about, is there, pretty girl? you knew this would happen. you knew i would find you.”

nayeon moved to the middle of the seat and grabbed your legs, pulling you over to straddle her lap. her hands flew to your ass, rubbing and grabbing at your flesh under your skirt, making you whine.

“nayeon, i’m serious. i’ve never told you mia’s address before, you’re fucking scaring me.”, your hands wrapped freely around her neck, feeling her warmth radiating against your fingertips. your faces were impossibly close together in her cramped car and your lips grazed each other faintly.

she smiled at you again. “i have my ways, sweetheart.”, nayeon leaned in to kiss you, but you pulled away.

“i’m not giving you anything until you talk to me.”

you weren’t going to deny the fact that you were unbelievably horny right now, you just wanted to clear the air beforehand.

“i don’t think you have much of a choice in this position, angel.”

throwing your head back in annoyance was a bad idea.

nayeon took that opportunity to attack your pulse point with her soft lips and wet tongue.

her arms held your body tight against her, locking you in with no escape.

your whiny moans only gave nayeon the primal urge to nip and suck on your perfume soaked skin.

she kissed her way down your throat to bite the point of your shoulder and ran her tongue back up to your ear, whispering in a deep, raspy voice that sent chills down your spine.

“g’na mark you all up for that desperate little bitch to see exactly who you belong to.”

bruises and bite marks immediately formed on every inch of your neck, evidence of your girlfriend’s sadistic message to mia.

nayeon shifted her hand underneath your skirt and palmed your pussy through the damp fabric of your cotton panties, cooing and mocking you for being turned on by her teasing.

she kept one arm wrapped around your lower back, her middle finger tracing circles lightly around your clothed clit.

soft moans escaped your lips and you found yourself subconsciously grinding against nayeon’s hand.

“aw, is my pretty baby getting all needy for me? does she need me to fuck her that bad?”

you nodded your head and whined in nayeon’s ear, trying your best to sound as sweet as possible.

nayeon’s lips made contact with your neck again, sinking her teeth into your flesh, driving you absolutely crazy.

she quickly moved your panties to the side, giving herself free reign to make you feel good.

she ran her fingers through your slit a couple times before inserting herself inside you slowly.

nayeon’s fingers were long. everytime you compared hand sizes, the length of them next to yours triggered the most sinful thoughts in your mind. the way she could palm your full asscheek with one grab drove you crazy with need.

the tips of her two fingers kissed the deepest part of your cervix when she bottomed out inside of you. she kept her movements still and allowed you some time to adjust to her length.

you let out a drawn out moan and brought your own hand down to grab at nayeon’s wrist.

nayeon pulled out of you slowly, staring at you with nothing but lust in her eyes.

when she left your pussy feeling empty, you mewled and gave her your best puppy eyes, pleading for her to continue fucking you with her stupidly long fingers.

“please.. just fuck me already, please baby, ‘need you..”, your hips chased her fingers in search of your own pleasure, but to no avail. nayeon just tsked at you and gripped your hip to stop you from squirming.

“you know what i want, sweet girl.”

it took you a moment to realize what she was asking for, but you quickly remembered how much nayeon liked to watch you fuck yourself on her fingers.

you nodded and sank yourself down slowly onto nayeon’s digits, keeping eye contact with her the whole time. you forced your eyes to stay open, letting out short, breathy moans.

“that’s it baby, that’s my girl.”, nayeon praised you as you moved your hips in a rhythm, riding her fingers and pressing your forehead against hers.

“just keep looking pretty like this for me. fuck.. all for me. you’re all mine, right baby?”

your eyes were squeezed shut, but you could tell that nayeon’s gaze never left yours. her tongue running across her lips, licking them to keep herself together.

she helped you out by thrusting her fingers in sync with your movements, matching your pace. your clit landed perfectly on her flexed palm every time you lowered your core back down.

“yes, fuck- ‘m all yours nay- only yours.”

nayeon could tell you were getting close when she felt your walls tightening around her and your pace getting sloppier.

“yeah? you mean that?”

“mhm, fuck- nobody else can fuck me like this. god, you feel too good-“

you were so, so close to cumming. the built up pleasure in you was ready to release, but nayeon had a different idea in mind.

hearing you reaffirm that you were hers made it incredibly hard for her to control the urge to just fuck you senseless, but she didn’t want you to have that sweet release. not after the stunt you pulled. you were just lucky she was even touching you right now.

nayeon snatched her fingers out just when you were at the edge of your high, steadying you with both hands back at your waist.

“aw, did my dumb little baby really think she was gonna cum after she tried to be sneaky like that? poor thing..”, she was taunting you now by slapping your clit harshly, knowing it would make you finish anyways.

you gripped at nayeon’s shoulders, bunching up the sleeves of her shirt in your hands and hiding your face in the crook of her neck, mumbling out small apologies in between choked whimpers.

nayeon heard another alert ring on your phone. you were too fucked out and tired to be aware of it, so she hugged you with one arm and leaned forward to reach for your phone in the cup holder up front.

she typed in your password and went to your messages to see a text from her.

mia 🧸 2m ago u good?? hope ur gf didn’t get jealous or wtv lmao

your “gf” laughed at mia’s audacity, tapping the camera icon next to the message bar.

“smile for the camera, baby.”

nayeon lifted your head off her shoulder and adjusted the strands of hair that stuck to your forehead with sweat, angling the phone to capture every freshly purple mark she left on your neck and your cutely flushed face.

you heard the sound of the photo being sent and looked down to see nayeon with a big smile on her face, typing something along with it.

“ 'd you really have to do that, nay?”, you shook your head at her while wiping the sweat off your top lip.

“it’s either this, or i kill her and her whole family.”

and she meant every word.

[dolliestfairy]

Dolliest 🎀

Vincent Sinclair, Jason Voorhees, Asa emory, & Patrick bateman with Chubby!fem!reader who dressed like a Doll! ʚ ₊˚ ᥀✿

Author Note ✿ : hello lovlies, sorry i have been on a break for like 3/4 days because i just like um.. really need some break and also i had a lot activities going on, but i still try to write something for you all, so please sit down and enjoy :). if you like my writings please give me reblogs and feedbacks. tysm! also we almost got 140 followers atp, Tysm for your support lovlies!!

Trigger Warning ✿ : insecurities, fluff, some murder stuff idk, blood & insect mentioned, and some comfort also :), and maybe some misspelled word. overall enjoy! Reader skin color is NOT announced.

Dividers from @v6que ꒰ঌ ໒꒱. Gifs are not mine.

✿ Vincent sinclair

- you're an Art, thats what Vincent think the first time he saw you.

- and oh my god... he freaking loves it watching you dressing yourself!!

- believe me, he would never let anyone take down your confidence, if the one who take down your confidence is his brother (take example : Bo Sinclair) he wouldnt be scared to defend you like it his life-priority.

- but if the one who takes down your confidence is his next victim?? they are dead. even if the victim was important bla bla bla, he doesnt give a fck. how dare they talk down to his beloved partner?? such a unforgivable act.

- Love, i mean﹍LOOVEE drawing you. you're gonna see THOUSANDS paper with a drawing that look Exactly like you, EVERYWHERE. he even had his own fav drawing that he's dedicated to you.

- he, drawing you, and protecting you from anyone who mocks you including his brother, is a way of how he show himself that he is truly in love with you.

- if you're feeling insecure? better be ready to be suffocate from his affection.

✿ Jason Voorhees

- Man is silently drooling behind his mask.

- kinda like a Mommy kink....

- love the way you dress yourself with those soft pink dress and accesories, those glam nails and hairs and those soft makeup... perfect.

- but theres a time where he felt himself is not appropriate for you.

- we know this man is a insecure boy, but if you manage to cheer him up with your own way, istg your life is going to be put into this big mans life-priority.

- like.. he'll do everything to keep you happy.

- sometimes he even steal accessories or clothes or even make up that he found from his victim, where he collect them all and give them all for you.

- you might feeling kinda nasty seeing those gift is still covered in blood and with like a rotting-corpse smell... but if you accept it brightly he's gonna die on that place & in that moment.

- really love you. if you're insecure, he's going to slit somebodys throat for making you that way, but if you're feeling insecure because your own self? well then, he's going to go to hunt some victim, to get some MORE AND MORE stuff that you may like, well i mean.. thats just how he shows his love for you. his chubby doll 🎀

✿ Asa emory

- didnt know how to feel....

- but he does somehow, loves the opposite vibes you both gave. like he's the bad murderer boy who likes insect and some nasty nasty stuff, life in a nasty place and then theres you! who brighten up the nasty place he live in, always dress like a doll, pink pink, Vanilla perfume n stuff..

- just perfect and balance combination.

- when his victim saw who he is and when they saw YOU who is behind him they're gonna find themself asking "y-you.. you-you didnt get k-killed?..." and only to get the answer of him "she's my Princess."

- BUT... thats on a rare occassion. sometimes he just called you "my partner" or something. but if he's feeling in a good & cocky mood then he's going to call you his princess.

- and just like jason, he likes to give you a beautiful beautiful stuff who is always & almost covered in blood.

- if he's sees you wearing the stuff he gave you he can feel his cold heart melting.

- jk.. he doesnt feel his cold heart melting, because you already melt him in the first place. he just can feel his cold & thick heart is being burned by your affection.

- and when i'm telling you this.. he's enjoying, every, single, one of it.

✿ Patrick bateman

- oh my god..

- he's a real cocky man. but let me tell you something..

- HE SPOILS YOU SOO MUCH LIKE OH MY GOD.

- like i'm not even joking. he spoils you... really really spoils you to the bone, to your soul like you feel like you're suffocating.

- because he's still a patrick bateman, he loves to suffocate everyone, you're no expectation. the only differences is that he suffocate other people with death.

- but with you?... oh he's going to suffocate you with.. LOVE, LOVE & LOVE!

- in which he doesnt even believe any of that.

- but he does, believe it with you.

- patrick is a aware man. he knew himself real well, so when he found himself on a one knee for you, he found himself surprised and well um.. unbelieveably.

- never in his wildest life he would ended up with someone like you.

- at first he tried to denied, but as times goes by, he cant help, but felt his cold and tough soul was slowly melting over your words and touch.

- you're so.. so.. precious. soft, and round.. need to be protected and loved.

- it has been Too long for patrick bateman since he have been feeling this type of.. feelings.

- but you manage to somehow make him feel it again! and he wont waste it!

- the way he suffocate you, choking you with his affection and love is just how he shows himself how madly he is in love with you..! please dont waste it darling, please dont..

- let your soft appereance burn his cold soul as he would burn this world for you.

[squerlly]

flames of desire chapter 4: I'm creepy?...

Alastor x (f! bunny reader)

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

your POV:

back at the hotel, I went straight to my room, putting all of my clothes that angel bought for me in there drawers and hangers. angel said that there weren't any shoes that work for my paws so he said to try and wear toeless socks....there comfortable but I just have to be carful were I step. walking to the lobby I decided to grab a drink, sitting on the stool "what do you want kid?" "nothing strong" sliding the drink over to me I decide to ask about what happened earlier "hay husk right..." "yeah?" "do you know who valentino is?", setting down the glass he was cleaning he turns "hes an overlord, part of the Vees ...owns a strip club angel works at" well that explains it "what's an overlord?" "you ask to many damn questions kid" "sorry...just asking since I'm still getting used to the permeant damnation thing..." "overlords are powerful demons, ranked by there power over others. humans deal in favors and money, but down here...you deal in souls. and fuckers like radio face abuse that power" radio face? that's new "you mean Alastor? "yeah kid, hes an overlord, haven't you ever seen those posters outside?" now that I think about it, no...I haven't but that would explain his whole dark and twistedness "is that why hes so creepy.." "I'm creepy?...", whipping my head around my heart feels like it just fell out of my ass "oh how you wound me dear, tell me what makes me so creepy hmm..." "well I- no I didn't mean- how long have you been standing there..." "well I heard my name and couldn't help but listen, tell me what is it that has peeked your interest in me?", "w-well husk was telling me about overlords and that you were uhm-...one" "ah yes my dear, husker is correct!, what brought up such a subject?" "oh well... me and angel ran into this Valentino guy and when I asked angel he looked so scared..." "hmm well if he works for valentino, then there's a high chance he made a contract" "contract?" "yes, a contract for his soul~" of course, a contract or a deal for a soul "husk also said something about the Vees who are they?" hearing loud static I look up, Alastors smile was tight and his expression was that of irritation, the static getting louder "oh nobody important..." "oookk..." I'm not gonna pry into that anymore, I like my second life...sorta.

Alastors POV:

so our little bunny got into some trouble with the Vees? and it seems valentino has caught interest in her, I cant have that... "tell me dear what did valentino say to you?" "hmm he asked me if I wanted to work for him, said he could make me rich or something like that" oh Valentino, how does one fine joy in taking advantage of young women, maybe he has an animal fetish or something, for once that makes my skin crawl "and what did you say?" "I told him no naturally, the guy has no boundaries, and from the way he treated angel I don't think I would want to work for somebody like him" hmm smart girl~ "well its good to know your alright!" wouldn't want my toy to be broken before iv played with it first... "i just hope angel is ok" "you need not worry about angel, I'm sure hes doing just fine dear, you shouldn't get involved" especially with the likes of such nasty people like valentino, how dare he attempt to steal my plaything, I guess ill have to show him that I don't like sharing.

your POV:

chatting with Alastor and husk I feel a bit tired, probably had one to many refills of my drink, iv always been a light weight... "its getting a bit late, I think I'm gonna head to bed now" husk takes my half empty glass as I stand from the stool "well goodnight my dear, sweet dreams~..."

I had writers block for like 30min because I just felt like adding a whole extra part for Alastor and it nearly killed me!!! but anyways I love you guys and please enjoy this chapter stay tuned~

-squerlly

@pooplyface1423 @strippezzz

for more stories and more chapters please click this masterlist

[sleepingdeath-light]

yandere hcs ; lucifer morningstar

requested by ; nobody / self indulgent

fandom(s) ; hazbin hotel

fandom masterlist(s) ; here

character(s) ; lucifer morningstar,

outline ; “general yandere hcs for lucifer”

warning(s) ; yandere!lucifer morningstar, obsessive behaviour, acts of violence, extreme jealousy, extreme separation anxiety, kidnapping, isolation, self aware yandere, stockholm syndrome

to get the obvious out of the way first, lucifer isn’t someone who is going to be quick to act on his feelings even if he happens to be a yandere — hell, after how distraught he was left in the aftermath of lilith walking out of their marriage it would take him a long while to even begin to acknowledge his feelings for you let alone consider acting on them

in all honesty, unless there’s some external pressure pushing him to act he’s much more likely to avoid you and try and suppress his feelings instead

yeah…

lucifer isn’t really the best at handling this sort of situation

(to say the very least)

but after a much needed pep talk from charlie, and an off handed comment about you potentially having a date soon which angel dust made in his presence, lucifer does manage to get over himself enough to actually start courting you

and for a while it’s a pretty normal relationship, or as normal of a relationship as you can have with the literal devil: he takes things slow with you, treats you like royalty, spoils you with gifts, does his best to keep track of the things you tell him, takes you out for dates regularly, and is nothing short of a complete and utter gentleman when you’re together — and that’s because at this point his feelings for you are still pretty innocent and the more intense and possessive feelings he has are quickly buried as he doesn’t want to risk scaring you away

he can’t lose you like he lost her

he can’t

so he bites his tongue and tries, desperately tries, to be the best version of himself he can possibly be — until something finally pushes him over the edge and causes all of those dangerous possessive feelings to rush in and take hold of his mind

maybe it was somebody really not getting the hint that you’re taken, maybe it was alastor really making a good effort to get under his skin by messing with you, maybe it was even a thinly veiled threat by adam about ‘stealing you away’ and ‘getting even’ after you two went public with your relationship — whatever it was caused lucifer’s mind to run wild with both fiery jealousy and white hot fear and pushed him to take matters into his own hands in the worst possible way

he snaps and he snaps badly

he lashes out physically at whoever was threatening your relationship (killing the nobody that was flirting with you, putting alastor back into his place with some injuries he can’t just shake off, harming adam enough to send a message without outright inciting another war, etc.)

he immediately wraps you up in his arms and wings, pulling you tight against his body as he apologises (you think it’s for his behaviour but what he’s apologising for hasn’t even happened yet)

then, finally, he teleports you both back to his palace and locks you both inside before having a bit of a breakdown and locking himself in a separate room to calm down and ground while you process what just happened

(eventually, once he’s out of his own head enough to do so, he’ll reach out to charlie and tell her that he’s keeping you at the palace for your own safety because of some threat or another, promising that she can come see you once everything’s safe enough for her to do so — and, unfortunately for you, she trusts her dad enough to believe him outright and simply wishes you both the best before getting back to work on the hotel)

during your time in captivity, lucifer does everything he possibly can to get back into your good graces and to try and repair your relationship (he’s keenly aware that what he’s doing to you is wrong, and he apologises for it often, but he’s also so terrified of losing you that he can’t bring himself to let you go free) — he spoils you rotten, makes your favourite meals every day, lets you have your own room close to his and makes it as comfortable as possible for you despite his own separation anxiety, tries to talk to you about the things you love (always hoping that this time you’ll finally respond to him), and taking you on little ‘dates’ around the palace grounds to try and replicate the things you did together before he took you

this is a very tumultuous time for you both and it won’t get any better until that small resilient part of your mind dies and you fully accept your new life with lucifer — but don’t be too hard on yourself for breaking, even the most strong-willed of people will give in eventually after spending months and months completely isolated from the world outside of a single person

and once that’s finally happened its almost like that difficult period in your relationship never happened at all — he’s taking you out for dates, he’s sticking close to your side at all times, you’re accompanying him to important outings to visit other royals, he’s publicly announcing your relationship every chance he gets, he’s proposing marriage, and you’re planning your royal wedding (with lots of help from a very excited step-daughter-to-be who can’t wait for you to officially join the family), and you’re given all of the protections and prestige that one could hope for in hell

sure you don’t really have much time to yourself but you love lucifer so you don’t mind having him nearby (or have you just forgotten what it’s like to have personal space?), and sure you’re only permitted to have friends that your fiancé approves of but you trust his judgement and you know he’s only acting in your best interests (or are you just too tired to fight him on it?), and sure anyone who tries to get too close to you for lucifer’s comfort is dealt with as swiftly and painfully as possible, but you’re both happy (are you really happy? are you even you anymore?) and really that’s all that matters

… right?

[mirohtron]

The supervillain dug their talons deep into the hyperventilating villain's neck. This was unbelievable—the villain was nothing, nothing, how did they sneak in?

"I should kill you," they said coldly.

The villain made a noise wholly born of fright. "Please, please, don't, I want to make a deal—hah!" They choked down a sob, bit down on their lip to do it, when one of the supervillain's sharp talons scraped down their skin. "They wouldn't let me in, you have to believe me. You can't possibly think I was trying to sneak in to, like, steal—"

The supervillain yanked them up, so they were sitting on their desk. A bottle of ink had spilled and matted part of their brown hair black. The villain didn't dare move, tensing up every muscle in their body.

The supervillain clenched their jaw and squeezed the villain's neck, making them whimper in fright. "Tell me how you broke in," they said lowly and through their teeth, "from where you broke in, and why you thought sneaking up behind me was worth a deal I could reject."

"Let me tell you about the deal first!" the villain said, and then screamed when the supervillain raked sharp talons down their skin. "Flowers! Flowers. I brought sleepy poppies to the back guards and acted smitten and said I wanted to give it to you. They sniffed it and were out like a light in minutes. And then—I used their fingerprints and keycards and stuff to get in."

"Sleepy poppies?"

The villain sniffled. "I grew them experimentally. They're mine."

The supervillain rolled their tongue, beyond furious that a stupid thing like them could trick their guards. Somebody was going to die tonight.

"There's people constantly on watch," they said. "Constantly at work. You will tell me exactly how you got inside my office."

The villain pointed up, to the open vent. They dug in their pocket and took out a pen. "Heated the grates off. I didn't wanna make noise."

The supervillain yanked the pen out of their grip. They took the cap off and found a piece of metal that was in a similar shape as the cigarette lighters in cars inside.

The villain sobbed in panic when they glared. "Why are you mad? I was—I wasn't going to do anything bad—" they shut up when the vampire sneered.

"You're not even in gear."

The villain's voice came out in a loud, panicked shout. "Because I wasn't going to fight you!"

"Shut up!" The supervillain yanked them close. The villain's eyes were wide, their chest rising up and down unsteadily, their knuckles white as their hands turned to fists. "You come into my lair, my office, with nothing but a piece of metal that can get hot and flowers, and you think I should appreciate your brain because you got past a couple useless guards?"

Blood was already dripping from the shallow wounds the supervillain had given them on their neck, scented sweet. It would be so, so easy to just squeeze and stop their whining. The villain's face twisted. "I didn't come here to make a useless deal!"

"Then why, pray tell, did you come here? To join me?"

"I came here because superhero's gonna kill you!"

The supervillain froze. For a moment all the anger and arrogance left them as they stood there to process. The villain was red-cheeked and panting, and the part of their hair matted with ink was drying into a solid clump.

Slowly, the supervillain turned their talons back to their cold fingers. "Nobody can kill me."

The villain half-scoffed half-laughed, and it came out halfway broken. "You're a vampire."

The su—the vampire froze, once more. The villain was clutching the edge of their expensive desk now. The ink bottle had a dark pool around its mouth, staining the mahogany.

"I'm no vampire."

"Silver hurts you! And—" the villain took a breath too big and coughed. "And your hands are cold," they said miserably, as though temperature was their biggest worry right now.

"Silver doesn't hurt me, I wear silver jewellery. What are you—"

The villain slipped their hand under the vampire's sleeve and held their wrist, and immediately the vampire's skin burned. And it wasn't like their skin heated up, no. It was like blue fire had touched their skin, like their nerve endings were sizzling.

The vampire screamed. The villain went pale and started to snatch their hand back, but the vampire took it and slammed them back down on the table.

In rage the vampire caught their face in their fingers, digging their human nails into the hollows of their cheek. The villain took their turn to scream in fear. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry, my ring is silver and—I'd been careful not to—"

"Fine," the vampire gritted out. "Fine. I'm a god damn vampire. How did you find out?"

The villain took a remarkably steady breath, visibly swallowing down all of their sobs and hiccups and the rest of their pathetic crying. "You don't appear on camera. Your body is cold. I came here before, way back before I became a villain, as some else's arm candy. I noticed you didn't have a single thing that was real silver. Gold, brass, steel, bronze, diamond—you had everything except silver. I..." The villain's breath hitched.

"Go on."

The villain took a breath halfway through their nose before they realised it came as an annoying sniffle, and took in the rest through their mouth. "I kept notes. I theorised that your weakness was silver. You kept it hidden well but..."

"And the superhero now knows?" The vampire squeezed the villain's jaw. "She knows because you told her, didn't you? And she's going to kill both of us now because you couldn't keep your fucking mouth shut?"

The villain frantically shook their head. The spilled bottle of ink was right by their head. "They broke into my place and went through my stuff." They lifted the arm of theirs that wasn't pinned down to the table and shook it to shimmy down the sleeve. The vampire turned their head and saw the beginning of what looked like a deep cut that just missed their vein. "I've got these all over me. They found out my theories on you and kept me alive just because they thought I had something that could kill you. I lied and said I did."

"How did you escape?"

The villain's face twisted in anxious frustration. "Why does it matter? Why does it matter at all—I ran when they weren't looking!" They curled away from the villain's sharp talons. "Please, please, I promise I only came here to warn you."

"And?"

The villain looked at them tearily. "And for protection from heroes."

The vampire gritted their teeth. They'd kept the silver thing hidden well, and for so long. If the villain had figured it out just because they happened to connect a few dots...

Well, it seemed like they were slacking off. And as cowardly and weak as the villain was, they'd clearly been silently observing a lot of people, and they were also resourceful and intelligent.

The vampire brought them up again. "I don't care about you, let's make that clear."

"Well, I don't care about you either." The villain frowned childishly, sniffling. The vampire laughed in amusement.

"Good, so this relationship is purely professional. You must know what the superhero's weakness are."

"Some," the villain said. "She's good at hiding it if something hurts her, but she's always shocked first." The vampire caught them flexing their ringed hand. "As strong people always are."

The vampire looked back at the villain. The villain quickly realised that the vampire had clocked that movement and paled, and then quickly flushed and opened their mouth to no doubt apologise, but the vampire ignored them.

"Work with my men," they said. They let go of the villain's neck, which was now red and bleeding, and placed a finger over their chest. "Co-operate. They will send me periodic reports on you."

The villain's features lifted in shock, and then they took in a relieved breath. "So you'll offer me protection?"

"Yes."

"Thank you, oh my God, thank you. I was so scared you wouldn't, I'm so grateful and I...I..." They trailed off as the vampire began to make their way to their office doors.

"Be gone from my office by the time I come back," the vampire said, hand on the door handle. "I need to sort things out and fire a couple guards."

The vampire left.

The villain wiped off all traces of their act from their face, and twisted their silver ring around their finger.

They took that stupid bottle of ink and threw it to the ground, and then put their head in their hands and groaned.

God, if they were busted, they'd so dead.

[gaylordscooter]

Log of the Multiverse: Hearts

So recently i was able to make my own universe-hopping device by studying the code of Ink's portals. but i didn't want to make some complicated gun that makes portals (a gun that makes portals? i'm no aperture science)

so instead i modified a motorcycle (that i did not steal) that's able to tear holes small enough to heal by itself and to hop between universes once i reach a certain speed. Cons of this. i need to reach a certain speed to tear said hole. Pros, ive been able to get out of a universe in as small of a space as twenty feet. plus it's really handy for getting away from things.

While getting the hang of it, i found this Mettaton at the dump of the universe's Waterfall. The guy was SCRAP METAL when i found him. I thought he was dead, honestly. I nearly jumped out of my metaphorical skin when i heard him speak.

He told me he was in the wrong world and needed help getting out of this "horrifically hostile world". Now usually i'd check in with Ink before yoinking someone from a universe buuuut this guy was very persuasive. and also was in the process of dying

I call him "Hearts" because his breastplate's the shape of a heart. im very creative, i know (at least i didn't name him PINK because his skin's PINK. Unlike SOMEBODY who names people that way) (im not even blue. i wear more of a blue-green)

For now, he crashes at Dream's our communal home in the Doodlesphere. because he didn't like the idea of living at the hub due to the amount of people there.

I've done as good as a job as i could to repair him. thankfully i've gotten a lot of pointers from Alphys to improve my engineering skills.

So I guess, this guy's an outcode like me. I haven't seen many non-sans outcodes. Only two i can think of at the top of my head are XChara and In. Scratch that I can only think of one. Unless you can count Everyone in the hub, but their case is different in my opinion because most of them stay in that universe.

He seems to be from some kind of fell-esque universe with his two pairs of arms and eyes. Ink says im smitten for him, don't believe his lies.

It's Mettaton, everyone thinks he's hot.

Anyway, he has a VERY high LV. So i'm always prepared to dodge juuust in case he decides to attack me, but I doubt he will because i'm basically his repair-man now. He's also very interested in joining me on my trips to other universes. I just make sure he doesn't mess with anything.

Oh this reminds me, he's saved me on numerous occasions. Like one time when I was collecting some echo flowers from Waterfall in an Underfell universe he stopped a boulder from hitting me it was pretty hot. He's pretty strong. It's almost like he's my bodyguard or something

So yeah, Hearts. He's pretty cute. i mean nice. he's nice. even though he's actually very rude and snarky and has probably Definitely killed a lot of people to get to level 12 (that's probably not all from self-defense)

[ameagrice]

Capsize

chapter sixteen | this is how it ends

percy jackson x fem reader

Truth be told, coming up out of the water was like breathing a whole new day. Something in the air felt different, the skies peach and yellow, and you watched the saves as a coast guard boat came to pick the four of you up.

With a towel around your shoulders, dripping wet, they dropped you off at the Santa Monica Pier, leaving you to wonder what next.

Percy met your gaze and you looked away quickly.

“So what do we do now?” You asked briefly, sighing.

Annabeth blew air out of her cheeks. “I…don’t know. I can’t believe we came all this way just for—”

“It was a trick,” Percy cut in with a firm stare. “A trick worthy of Athena.”

Your head snapped his way. “Excuse me?”

“Hey—” Annabeth warned lowly.

Percy turned from her to you. He held his hands out, palms up. “You get it, don’t you?”

“It might have been clever, but—”

“Yes,” Annabeth snapped. Her eyes warned you. No more arguing. “I get what you mean.”

“Well, I don’t!” Said Grover. “Would somebody explain?”

“Percy,” Annabeth said. “I’m sorry about your mom.”

“The prophecy was right," Percy ignored her comment. “You shall go west and face the god who has turned.’ But it wasn't Hades. Hades didn't want war among the Big Three. Someone else pulled off the theft. Someone stole Zeus's master bolt, and Hades's helm, and framed me because I'm Poseidon's kid. Poseidon will get blamed by both sides. By sundown today, there will be a three-way war. And I'll have caused it.”

Grover shook his head, mystified. “But who would be that sneaky? Who would want war that bad?”

Percy laughed harshly. “Gee, let me think—”

As you looked around, you elbowed Percy. Your breath caught. “Look.”

The others turned their attention to where you looked. Further up the beach, stood Ares. In his black leather and sunglasses, he looked straight out of a nineties suspense movie. A baseball hat sat on his broad shoulder. You couldn’t see his eyes behind his sunglasses, but he looked right at you. You clenched your fists at your side, letting go of the towel that slipped off your shoulders, and rounded Grover to your right, storming up the beach.

“Hey!” Annabeth called. “Don’t!”

“B, come on!”

“Hey, kid!” Ares voiced, sounding genuinely pleased to see you. He grinned wickedly, a toothpick sat to the corner of his mouth. He was much taller than you, but even so, you got close enough that the days events began to build in your chest furiously. “You’re still alive!”

“What was all that about?” You fumed, shaking your head twice, shortly. “You send us after the masterbolt only for it to turn up on Percy? What shit is this?!”

His face changed instantly, a hand coming to your sopping shirt, twisting it to pull you to him. You faced him straight on, face hard, nose slightly crinkled, jaw clenched. On your toes, you dared to reach a hand out to grab his wrist. Under your skin his own burned like a heater, and he was bigger than you to the point your hand only covered half his wrist.

“Your dear mother didn’t pass on her genes, did she?”

“Sorry about her, Sir. She’s—”

Ares dropped you suddenly, sending your heels slamming into the hard packed sand. He turned his attention to Grover, who shut up.

“You set us up,” Percy added, coming to your side. “You stole the helm and the masterbolt.”

Ares grinned. “Well, now, I didn't steal them personally. Gods taking each other's symbols of power—that's a big no-no. But you're not the only hero in the world who can run errands.”

“Who did you use? Clarisse? She was there at the winter solstice.” Annabeth called it.

The idea seemed to amuse him. “Doesn't matter. The point is, kid, you're impeding the war effort. See, you've got to die in the Underworld. Then Old Seaweed will be mad at Hades for killing you. Corpse Breath will have Zeus's master bolt, so Zeus'll be mad at him. And Hades is still looking for this…”

From his pocket he took out a ski cap—the kind bank robbers wear—and placed it between the handlebars of his bike. Immediately, the cap transformed into an elaborate bronze war helmet.

“The helm of darkness,” Grover gasped.

“Exactly,” Ares said. “Now where was I? Oh yeah, Hades will be mad at both Zeus and Poseidon, because he doesn't know who took this. Pretty soon, we got a nice little three-way slugfest going.”

“But they're your family!” Annabeth protested.

Ares shrugged. “Best kind of war. Always the bloodiest. Nothing like watching your relatives fight, I always say.”

“You gave me the backpack in Denver," Percy said. "The master bolt was in there the whole time.”

“Yes and no,” Ares said. “It's probably too complicated for your little mortal brain to follow, but the backpack is the master bolt's sheath, just morphed a bit. The bolt is connected to it, sort of like that sword you got, kid. It always returns to your pocket, right? Anyway, I tinkered with the magic a bit, so the bolt would only return to the sheath once you reached the Underworld. You get close to Hades…Bingo, you got mail. If you died along the way—no loss. I still had the weapon.”

“But why not just keep the master bolt for yourself? Why send it to Hades?”

Ares got a twitch in his jaw. For a moment, it was almost as if he were listening to another voice, deep inside his head. “Why didn't I…yeah...with that kind of fire-power…”

He held the trance for one second…two seconds…

You exchanged looks with Annabeth. It seemed for the first time, you were agreeing that he was acting strange.

Ares's face cleared. “I didn't want the trouble. Better to have you caught redhanded, holding the thing.”

“You're lying," Percy demanded. “Sending the bolt to the Underworld wasn't your idea, was it?”

“Of course it was!” Smoke drifted up from his sunglasses, as if they were about to catch fire.

“You didn't order the theft. Someone else sent a hero to steal the two items. Then, when Zeus sent you to hunt him down, you caught the thief. But you didn't turn him over to Zeus. Something convinced you to let him go. You kept the items until another hero could come along and complete the delivery. That thing in the pit is ordering you around.”

“I am the god of war! I take orders from no one! I don't have dreams!”

“Who said anything about dreams?”

A beat of silence.

“Let's get back to the problem at hand, kid. You're alive. I can't have you taking that bolt to Olympus. You just might get those hardheaded idiots to listen to you. So I've got to kill you. Nothing personal.”

He snapped his fingers. The sand exploded at his feet and out charged a wild boar, even larger and uglier than the one whose head hung above the door of cabin seven at Camp Half-Blood. The beast pawed the sand, glaring at Percy with beady eyes as it lowered its razor-sharp tusks and waited for the command to kill.

Your body shivered, from tiredness or anxiety you couldn’t tell. All you knew was any weapons were in your backpack, and there would not be enough time to turn and dig through for them before this thing charged.

Percy stepped into the surf. “Fight me yourself, Ares.”

The god laughed, but an edge tainted it, and you couldn’t place exactly what that edge was.

“You've only got one talent, kid, running away. You ran from the Chimera. You ran from the Underworld. You don't have what it takes.”

“Scared?”

“In your adolescent dreams." But his sunglasses were starting to melt from the heat of his eyes. “No direct involvement. Sorry, kid. You're not at my level.”

Annabeth said, “Percy, run!”

The giant boar charged.

You could do nothing but watch the boar that charged at Percy. He sidestepped swiftly, well-timed. His sword made a metallic slinnkkkk sound as it appeared and simultaneously cut off one of the boar’s horns. It screeched so loudly you jumped. The disorientated animal ran past you, narrowly avoiding standing on your toes, and straight into the sea.

Percy raised his hand and forceful waved it. “Wave!”

As if he’d commanded it, a wave did in fact raised high into the air, taking over the boar and sweeping it away.

Well. That was short-lived.

“Are you going to fight me now? Or are you gonna hide behind another animal?”

Ares's face was purple with rage. “Watch it, kid. I could turn you into—”

“A cockroach,” Percy suggested with a humoured tone. “Or a tapeworm. Yeah, I'm sure. That'd save you from getting your godly hide whipped, wouldn't it?”

Flames danced along the top of his glasses. “Oh, man, you are really asking to be smashed into a grease spot.”

“If I lose, turn me into anything you want. Take the bolt. If I win, the helm and the bolt are mine and you have to go away.”

Ares sneered.

He swung the baseball bat off his shoulder. “How would you like to get smashed: classic or modern?”

That's cool, dead boy," he said. "Classic it is." The baseball bat changed into a huge, two-handed sword. The hilt was a large silver skull with a ruby in its mouth.

“Percy,” Annabeth said. “Don't do this. He's a god.”

“He's a coward.”

She swallowed. “Wear this, at least. For luck.”

She took off her necklace, with her five years' worth of camp beads and the ring from her father, and tied it around his neck. You could feel your expression changing, flames licking in your chest.

“Reconciliation,” she said. “Athena and Poseidon together.”

Percy’s cheeks reddened. "Thanks."

“And take this,” Grover said. He handed your friend a flattened tin can that he'd probably been saving in his pocket for a thousand miles. You barely held in your snort. “The satyrs stand behind you.”

“Grover…I don't know what to say.”

Finally, Percy turned to you. Your hands were in your pockets, and you looked firmly at him. Those green eyes were determined, his cheeks still pink from Annabeth’s necklace hanging around his neck.

“Pack this in,” you murmured. “Just give in.”

His face hardened. “No. He’s not winning after all we’ve done.”

You stood face-to-face with him. His breath hit your mouth. Your eyes were level. Your heart was a butterfly flitting in your body.

You leaned in and kissed his cheek. His warm, soft cheek under your lips. Just as quick as you placed it there, you moved away, clasping your hands behind your back.

“Then,” you cleared your throat. “Good luck. Have fun.”

“Enjoy the, uh, show.”

“You guys done?” Ares sauntered over. “You finished saying your goodbyes? I’ve been fighting for eternity, kid. My strength is unlimited and I cannot die. What have you got?”

Quicker than you could blink, Ares’s double-sided sword created a slim line in the damp sand. You yelled, backing up. Eyes wide, heart thundering, you looked at where Percy had stood—

He wasn’t there.

You looked away, around, and found him in the sea, calf-deep. A grin tugged at the corner of your mouth. Ares swung again, and the sea pushed Percy into a flip over the god as the water hit Ares in the face. He spun his sword in his hand and laughed without humour.

“Not bad,” he nodded slowly, advancing. “Not bad.”

He slashed again and Percy was forced to jump onto dry land. He tried to sidestep, to get back to the water, but Ares seemed to know what he wanted. He outmaneuvered Percy, pressing so hard that he had to put all of his concentration on not getting sliced into pieces, his eyes viciously fighting to keep up with Ares’s movements. Percy kept backing away from the surf. He couldn't find any openings to attack. Ares’s sword had a reach several feet longer than Anaklusmos.

Sirens wailed, growing louder and louder. You turned to see. Cop cars were pulling up. “Percy!” You turned back to him. “Cops!”

This is it, you thought. We’re done for.

Percy looked at you, a panicked look in his eyes. Ares kicked him in the chest and sent him flying easily thirty feet away into a sand dune. The golden grains rained upon him, dusting his dark, dark hair like snow.

“There, officer!” somebody yelled. “See?!”

A gruff cop voice: “Looks like that kid on TV...what the hell?…”

“That guy's armed,” another cop said. “Call for backup.”

I rolled to one side as Ares's blade slashed the sand.

Percy sprinted for his sword, scooped it up, and launched a swipe at Ares's face, only to find it deflected again.

Ares seemed to know exactly what he was going to do the moment before he even attempted it.

Percy stepped back toward the surf, forcing him to follow.

“Admit it, kid,” Ares said. “You got no hope. I'm just toying with you.”

Percy stepped further back into the water, up to his knees. You stepped forward, frowning. His eyes were flickering everywhere. From Ares to the ground, ground to you, Annabeth to the cops, back to Ares.

Ares barely had to move. His sword swung down on Percy, slicing open his jacket and arm. Blood poured and pattered in to the sea.

“Drop the guns! Let them go now!” A megaphone called.

Guns? You couldn’t see guns. They had swords. So…what?

Ares barely turned. “This is a private matter! Be gone!”

He looked furious. He raised his hand and waved it—a wall of red flames blew up in front of the cop cars, sparking yells and sirens even more.

Ares laughed awfully. “Now, little hero. Shall we add you to the barbecue?”

They fought and fought. Percy was nearly to his shoulders in sea water, Ares barely to his thighs.

It wasn’t in Percy’s favor.

Until it was.

A wave of air like physical hands pushed you back to the sand. On your back, and winded, blinking at the brightening sky, you barely acknowledged the scream of fury Ares let our. Somehow, you heard it.

Annabeth was at your side. She helped you up, hand on your shoulder. The first time you’d even remotely worked together. Grove came to your other side.

You all watched as golden blood and blackness tainted the sea surrounding Ares.

“Did he…did he get him?” You asked, referring to Percy hitting Ares.

Annabeth hummed. “Looks like it,” she uttered faintly.

Things began to change.

It was as if a cloud covered the sun, but worse. Light faded. Sound and color drained away. A cold, heavy pres-ence passed over the beach, slowing time, dropping the temperature to freezing, and making me feel like life was hopeless, fighting was useless.

The darkness lifted.

The air changed.

You watched quietly.

Ares looked stunned.

Police cars were burning behind you. The crowd of spectators had fled. The three of you looked down, watching the water flood back around Ares's feet, his glowing golden ichor dissipating in the tide.

Ares lowered his sword.

“You have made an enemy, godling,” he told Percy lowly. “You have sealed your fate. Every time you raise your blade in battle, every time you hope for success, you will feel my curse. Beware, Perseus Jackson. Beware.”

His body began to glow.

“Percy!” Annabeth shouted. You flinched. “Don't watch!”

As if to protect you, too, knowing somehow you didn’t quite get what she meant, still trying to will air in your lungs, Annabeth turned you around, Grover grabbing you as the three of you practically huddled together.

The light died. The heat was gone. And things began to shift again, quickly.

The waves of blue rolled out.

The tide rolled out to reveal Hades's bronze helm of darkness. Percy knelt and lifted it from the sand, before standing and beginning to head back over to you.

But before he got to you, the flapping of leathery wings could be heard. Three evil-looking things with fiery whips drifted down from the sky and landed in front of Percy, cutting him off from you guys.

The middle Fury, the one who had been Mrs. Dodds, stepped forward. With her back to you, you had no clue what was going on.

“We saw the whole thing,” she hissed. “So…it truly was not you?”

Percy tossed her the helmet, which she caught in surprise.

“Return that to Lord Hades,” he said. “Tell him the truth. Tell him to call off the war.”

“Live well, Percy Jackson. Become a true hero. Because if you do not, if you ever come into my clutches again…”She cackled, savoring the idea. Then she and her sisters rose on their bats' wings, fluttered into the smoke-filled sky, and disappeared.

As if it was a normal ordeal, Percy walked to you, casually. You blinked, mouth agape. At your side, Grover was almost the same. More nervous and flirting.

“Percy…”Grover said. “That was so incredibly—”

“Terrifying,” said Annabeth.

“Cool!” Grover corrected.

“You almost gave me a heart attack!” You smacked his arm.

Percy didn’t say anything about that. “Did you guys feel that? Whatever it was?” He sounded exhausted. His shoulders slumped.

“Must’ve been the furies overhead,” said Grover.

“We have to get back to New York by tonight.”

“That’s impossible,” Annabeth shrugged. “Unless we—”

“Fly,” Percy finished.

You blinked wordlessly. “I’m sorry?”

“Fly, like, in an airplane, which you were warned never to do lest Zeus strike you out of the sky, and carrying a weapon that has more destructive power than a nuclear bomb?”

“Yeah,” Percy’s teeth chattered. “Pretty much exactly like that. Come on.”

—

Poor little Percy Jackson wasn't an international crimi-nal after all. He'd caused a commotion on that Greyhound bus in New Jersey trying to get away from his captor (and afterward, witnesses would even swear they had seen the leather-clad man on the bus—“Why didn't I remember him before?”). The crazy man had caused the explosion in the St. Louis Arch. After all, no kid could've done that. A concerned waitress in Denver had seen the man threatening his abductees outside her diner, gotten a friend to take a photo, and notified the police. Finally, brave Percy Jackson had stolen a gun from his captor in Los Angeles and battled him shotgun-to-rifle on the beach. Police had arrived just in time. But in the spectacular explosion, five police cars had been destroyed and the captor had fled. No fatalities had occurred. Percy Jackson and his three friends were safely in police custody.

The reporters fed you four this whole story. You just nodded and acted tearful and exhausted (which wasn't hard), and played victimized kids for the cameras.

Your dad would be in contact soon, you knew. He knew you were alive. And for once, you wouldn’t mind his nagging when you got home.

Percy had to do an interview for the cameras. “All I want,” He said, choking back his shiny tears, “is to see my loving stepfather again. Every time I saw him on TV, calling me a delinquent punk, I knew…somehow…we would be okay. And I know he'll want to reward each and every person in this beautiful city of Los Angeles with a free major appliance from his store. Here's the phone number.”

The police and reporters were so moved that they passed around the hat and raised money for three tickets on the next plane to New York.

Takeoff was the best part of a flight. It always had been for you. That feeling of being forced back in your seat, being weightless for a second as the plane evens out…

Percy didn’t quite think so.

“It’ll be fine,” you muttered, walking down the closed in walkway to the jet waiting for you. “You’ll be okay.”

He eyed you like you were crazy.

The seats were yourself and Percy by the window, Annabeth and Grover in the middle with two other adults. Percy didn’t let go of the armrests the entire duration of the flight.

You had a nap.

Percy woke you up, pale and shaking, when you were about to land.

At the airport, cameras waited with security and reporters. Annabeth lured them away with her invisibility hat before joining you at the baggage claim area.

The taxi rank was the hardest part.

The four of you spent days working together. You’d gotten into trouble, fought for food, and become stuck in a casino for days.

“Guys,” Percy breathed, looking at the ground. “We can’t all go. This is something I need to do on my own.”

You protested instantly. “WHAT?!”

“No way!” Annabeth exclaimed. “You’re not going on your own!”

But he got his way. The three of you took a cab back to Halfblood Hill. Percy waved you off gently.

All you could do was pray.

The sun was up and the sky brighter when you arrived back at camp. With your Lotus Casino card you paid for the taxi fare.

You all but ran in to camp.

The weather was summery and warm beyond the camp borderlines. Kids yelled and laughed down in the hill.

“Right,” Annabeth said. “Who’s explaining,” she asked as you sprinted down the hill towards the blue house. Outside, there Chiron stood, and it jarred you to realise this didn’t phase you now.

She did. After you practically began to yell, she took over. You thought you’d shy away from something unusual, but Chiron’s hand on your shoulder as you all listened to Annabeth, was a comfort. You weren’t alone or struggling out there, now. You were in a safe place. Camp was strange, but safe.

Annabeth explained all of your trip. Ten days you’d rushed and panicked and fought and thunk. And now, you sat together in the big blue house’s living room, smelling bad and munching on food. You hadn’t wanted to sit down like this, so opted for standing and leaning against the wall in the sunshine instead, eating potato chips. You nodded along absently as Annabeth talked.

When she finished—and most of the food was gone—Chiron sent she and Grover to clean up and rest.

“There is nothing we can do but wait for him,” he had reasoned softly. They’d begrudgingly agreed. “But I would like you to stay, please.” He looked at you. Even if he hadn’t, you’d have known who he meant.

You knew the inevitable was coming.

You didn’t move from leaning against the warm wall, staring out the window, unfocused, as he began.

“I don’t think I need to say that what you chose to do was a very immature thing to do.”

No, but you will anyway.

You hummed gently. Here, your brain was beginning to relax and tire.

“Why did you go with them?” He asked. Chiron stood on the other side of the table. You could just about see him in the window reflection.

Why did you?

You shrugged your shoulders. “I came here with Percy and I didn’t want to be left somewhere strange while he got to go out galavanting.”

“You knew only three were supposed to go—”

“Yeah,” you pushed off the wall, facing him. You laughed humourlessly. “And I still went. And I still came back. So your rule is shit—”

His face changed. “I won’t stand for disrespect or the blatant ignorance of ignoring rules—”

“Then sit—”

You were reprimanded for a further ten minutes. It was because he cared for you all, he said. Campers were important. You were young. And needed guidance. Here, he explained, there would be no running amok or playing up. You were twelve years old, and it was time to grow up.

—

You burned your burial shrouds that night. Annabeth’s was practically the same as yours, woven with grey silk and tiny owls for Athena.

You watched Annabeth and Percy talk opposite you. Grover ate a leaf at your side.

“Hey, Mary Jane.”

You looked up instantly, turning. The warmth of the fire traded to your left side as you did so, and came face-to-face with Travis Stoll, whose brown eyes shone in the firelight.

You smiled, and he laughed breathily.

“You just ran away,” he tilted his head, spoke a little quietly, like it was something sad. “You didn’t tell anyone. People thought you were definitely dead, not these.”

You thought back to Chiron’s words. Irresponsible.

You sighed through your nose. “It was tough stuff, but, uh…I just wanted to get out. I think I’ve realised now, though, that this is the safest place I can be.”

“Yeah,” Travis reached out for the silk on your wreath, and you watched him. He looked a little lost. “Probably is.”

His meaning hit you, like a thought popped in your head—out there, you could have 100% been killed. Here, there were no risks.

“Just glad you’re back safe, Mary,” he dove his knuckles into your hair and you yelled, leaning down and trying to back away. In the crowds of people, you backed into someone who exclaimed in annoyance.

Travis placed his hands on his hips to copy you, and you smiled, looking away.

“Good to see, dude. Can proudly say I’m not dead.”

The night consisted of singing around the campfire (which you sort of joined in on), you sat with Percy and Travis. Grover showed around his new badge. The council had called Grover's performance on the quest “Brave to the point of indigestion. Horns-and-whiskers above anything we have seen in the past.”

You’d shoved him and told him he was a loser. But he smiled. He knew you didn’t really mean it.

On the Fourth of July, the whole camp gathered at the beach for a fireworks display by cabin nine. Being Hephaestus's kids, they weren't going to settle for a few lame red-white-and-blue explosions. They'd anchored a barge offshore and loaded it with rockets the size of Patriot missiles. According to Annabeth, who'd seen the show before, the blasts would be sequenced so tightly they'd look like frames of animation across the sky. The finale was sup-posed to be a couple of hundred-foot-tall Spartan warriors who would crackle to life above the ocean, fight a battle, then explode into a million colors.

You floated between Annabeth and Percy, and a couple of kids from the Hermes cabin. Their humour was where you found a home.

August 31st came quickly.

You got your first bead and necklace. Pitch-black with a glowing green trident. Percy.

“Suits you,” Travis whispered at the fire that night.

When the camp applauded, and Travis raised you on his shoulders while you rolled your eyes, to join in on the applause, Annabeth was pushed forward by your siblings as well.

—

Dear______ Barbie Whatsaname_______ ,

If you intend to stay at Camp Half-Blood year-round, you must inform the Big House by noon today. If you do not announce your intentions, we will assume you have vacated your cabin or died a horrible death. Cleaning harpies will begin work at sundown. They will be authorized to eat any unregistered campers. All personal articles left behind will be incinerated in the lava pit.

Have a nice day!

Mr. D (Dionysus)

Camp Director, Olympian Council #12

You couldn’t help laughing. Clearly, he must have heard someone call you Bambie. But Barbie?! You shook your head, setting the paper down on your bed.

Cora still snored above you. You were tempted to shake the bed a bit and convince her there was an earthquake. She probably still wouldn’t wake up.

You got permission to leave camp and wander down the road for a telephone box.

Your dad was furious.

You got an ear load of shit.

He’d booked a one-way ticket to Australia.

The camp’s shuttle bus waited for you.

You dropped by Travis, first. He was a year-round camper, so you weren’t surprised to see him laying on his bed when you finally located him in the mess that was the Hermes cabin. You tiptoed around people’s belongings as they either packed or got ready for dinner.

You stopped next to his bed, and he grinned up at you with his arms behind his head.

“I’m leaving,” you told him. “Came to say bye.”

“You coming back? Camp isnt camp without you, Mary.”

You rolled your eyes and laughed under your breath. “Shut up. Maybe. I don’t know. Dad’s booked me a one-way ticket to Australia. I’ll give you his number. You better call now and then.”

“Without a phone?” His eyes shone with mischief. “How could I do that?”

Percy was in the training ring when you went to say goodbye. He was warming up with Luke.

“You off?” Luke asked, heading over. He’d thought you to fight during your first few days. You hummed. “Back next season?”

You shrugged lightly. “We’ll see. I don’t know yet.”

You turned to Percy, who worked up a light sweat. “You better be back,” he joked.

“Yeah, well,” you turned away, smiling. “Keep an eye out.”

You’d bid Annabeth goodbye. It was short, more of a ‘I might see you, but if I don’t, good luck with whatever you do’ sort of thing. At least you were cordial now.

One of the Aphrodite kids’ Gucci handbag was digging into your side as you sat on the window side of the bus. It was weird to be part of something to abnormal, just observing the world beyond the window that you’d once been a part of.

You stepped down off the bus. With only a small tote bag over your shoulder and your backpack of clothes from the Lotus Casino and camp, you walked into the airport.

You smiled to yourself, walking through the terminals.

Maybe you would be back next year.

We made it to the end of the first book! How are we feeling, guys? Any predictions for the next part? We start properly with Titans Curse for the next book.

Thank you all for reading!

The next chapter shouldn’t be too far behind.

-

Taglist:

@bl6o6dy @embersparklz @lilyevanswhore @rottenstyx @hawkeye12 @rory-cakes @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual @marshmallow12435 @luckydragontriumph @lantsovheiress @distinguishedmakerpandapatrol @bugsys-bubble @twsssmlmaa @gayandfairycore

[kiss-theggoat]

The Ghost with the Most Pt. 2

The Ghost (Mitch) x Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Summary: It’s been almost a year since you’d fallen for Mitch, since he decided to keep you. You’d fit in with the other haunt actors perfectly, and started to work on your new face. Your first Halloween is coming up, and you can’t wait to impress him.

Warnings: Violence and Gore, Female pronouns and anatomy used, Reader kills people, Mitch loooves seeing you kill people, Suggestive towards end

You sat at the table in the back room, tapping your leg nervously as you listened for somebody, anybody to show up to the sketchy haunted house. The mask you wore was hot and stuffy, and the tule of your dress scratched your exposed thighs, making you wish your knee socks came further up. The costume was uncomfortable, but it completed the look so well.

A bang got your attention, you turned to the door and saw the other haunt actors standing in front of it, the clown in particular stepping forward. You scanned them for Mitch, but didn’t see him, which made you sad. You thought he’d want to see you before your first Halloween, considering how big of a deal it was to this group.

“Show time.” The clown grumbled, reaching forward to grab everything he needed, clipboards with wavers to attain addresses, the lockbox key to steal phones, and the ring of keys that all of the haunt actors get, clipped around his belt.

You stood nervously. Your room was last, and you knew they were testing if you were really worth keeping around. By the time people get to you, they know this haunted house is not just that, it’s actually killing them. They’re going to be on guard, and you’re in more danger than usual.

A pat on your back had you turning your head to meet the face of the Devil, a small grin on his face. “You’re going to do great, doll. Just remember to listen…”

You nodded in response to him, but internally, you wanted to say, ‘Lishen? How the hell do I listen to anything going on when I’m so far away from the rest of you?’ But you thought that might get you in trouble.

Again, with your head on a swivel, you desperately searched for Mitch. You wanted a hug, a kiss, even a damn high five from him before going. He would ease your nerves, but he was nowhere to be found. Your stomach was churning, hands trembling, and all you wanted was Mitch. But, as you walked back to your room, the haunt actors slowly began to dissipate, going into their own areas, leaving you completely alone in the hallway.

By the time you got to your room, you felt like throwing up all over the nice pink bedroom. You felt nauseous, like your heart was going to burst. You took your place inside the closet next to the bed, where a little peephole gave you a view of the room, and waited. Eyes closed, masked face leaning against the door. You tried to take deep breaths but the mask was suffocating. You had enough, and took it off. You’d put it on in time, it’s barely been five minutes.

You opened the door, walking out into the small bedroom. You sat on the bed, looking around. The compact mirror sitting there was enticing, even though you knew it was for the escape room. You tiptoed towards the mirror and slowly opened it, staring at your new face. The skin was stretched over implants that made your cheeks round and your chin come to a soft point, perfectly tattooed blush and long eyelashes, and a beauty mark on the right cheek to top it off. A beautiful porcelain doll, lately you’d become obsessed with staring at yourself, and so had Mitch. Your heart ached again thinking about Mitch…did he not want to see you? No…that’s not it, he was busy.

You set the mirror back down where it was supposed to be, grabbed your doll face mask, and walked back towards the closet you were supposed to be in to wait. The loud bang you heard from towards the entrance pulled you from your trance, making you tense slightly. People were in the haunted house now, and your test would be starting soon. This made it all more real for you, your hands started to shake a little bit and you really really wish you’d seen Mitch before you left. You chewed at the inside of your lip, walking towards the front door of the room to press your ear against the thick wood. You didn’t know how much you’d be able to hear but it was worth a try.

From what you could make out, it seemed like everything was going to plan. Silence, a bang, screaming, silence again. Ten minutes went by before you heard another noise, and this was closer. Much, much closer. You quickly scurried back into the closet, shutting the door as quietly as you could.

Your timing was perfect, as barely a minute later you heard the sound of a key in the front door. Confusion laced your features, the guests shouldn’t have a key to this door, its lock is automatic, triggered by another part of the house. You peered through the peephole, but the door wasn’t quite in your line of view. The door creaked open and you perked up at Mitch’s voice.

“This is the last room. I told you guys that you were close enough to the end that it would’ve taken longer to go back to the beginning…only problem is…I didn’t set this room up.”

He’s talking to the guests…he’s leading them out. You slowly opened the closet door, stepping out, your Mary Jane shoes making the floorboard creak. Relief settled in your stomach at the sight of your sweet partner in crime, Mitch.

Mitch nodded at you in acknowledgement, “Hey doll, uh…can you get your keys? I don’t got them for the end.”

You nodded. “Sure… i-is everything okay?”

Mitch stepped forward towards you, letting more of the guests into the room, one girl limping, holding her bleeding thigh, another man cradling a purple elbow and sucking on a busted lip.

You feigned shock, you were briefed on this situation and you wanted to help Mitch. “Oh my god…what the hell happened?” You asked, your hand covering the mouth of your mask. The guests moved away from you as you walked towards them, hands out and posture docile. “Are…are you guys actually hurt?”

“Yes we’re actually fucking hurt!” The girl yelled, making you jump at her sudden outburst. Mitch put a hand on your shoulder, a silent way to calm you down, reassure you of the plan. You nodded, grabbing your keys, fumbling with them slightly. “The uhm…the door is this way.” And then, you sighed, looking back at Mitch.

“The last key. I don’t have it…it’s part of the escape room.”

The man who wasn’t injured walked forward, quite quickly and threateningly towards you. “Well you fucking work in here, get the damn key!”

“I’m so sorry. I didn't set this room up, just assigned to stand in it.” You shrugged, holding up your key ring. “It’s a large key, and it looks different than all of these.”

Mitch stepped in front of you, a hand on your waist, pushing you behind him. “Listen man, we want to help you get out of here, but my manager sets up the house, and like I’ve told you. I can’t find him.”

You slowly turned towards the bed, where you knew the dollhouse was. Mitch spoke again, “You're going to have to solve the escape room.”

“We’ll help.” You said quickly, beginning to scour the room. You quickly turned over everything, making it look like you were genuinely searching, Mitch did the same. You turned, delighted at the fact that everyone was searching on their own, letting their guard down. Defenseless. You snuck towards the bed, crawling towards the doll house that kept the key. As quietly as you could, you opened it, top half of your body beneath the bed. The key fell into your hands as you solved the puzzle and you carefully put the dollhouse back together, holding the key in your palm as you stood tall.

“Nothing.” You said softly, looking around. You saw Mitch nod at you once, you nodded back. Without alarming the guests, you walked forward and slipped the key into Mitch’s white gloved hand, watching as he turned towards the door, the one you knew had a shotgun behind it. You took a step to your left, back against the wall so no one could sneak up on you and far enough away from the door to be safe.

The lock clicked and it was like someone had paused time. The shuffling of feet and soft conversation between the guests stopped, no sound, everyone frozen in place. Slowly, they all turned towards the door as the tune of Pop Goes the Weasel began to play. You had to think quickly. There were too many of them to take on, even with Mitch in the room.

“You found it! Uhm…there’s a…pressure plate. In front of the door. It won’t open unless you stand there while the song plays.” You said, pointing to the floorboards in front of the death trap. The guests looked at eachother, finding which one they’d send to an unintentional slaughter. As the song continued, you got nervous. They’d hear a gunshot and know you tricked them.

You emphasized your pointing, shaking your finger. “It’s not going to open. You have to be quick.”

The man who had no injuries walked towards the door. You thanked any god that might exist that he would be leaving his injured friends behind. Easier for you to get rid of.

The room was tense as the eerie, off-key song continued, slowing down until it paused. The man in front of the door squeezed his eyes shut and his friends stared in anticipation, but instead of the door opening, a loud shot rang through the room. Hot blood and viscera splattered onto your face and costume, your hands flew to your ears, blocking out the sound of the gunfire, then the sound of the body plummeting to the wood.

You stared at the man’s body. You had never stopped to think what a shotgun blast at just a few feet would do, and now you wished you would’ve turned away. Mitch seemed completely oblivious, stepping over the body to make it to the other guests. They screamed and scattered as Pop Goes the Weasel started back up, and a shotgun shell clattered against the concrete of the corridor. Before you knew what was happening, the man with the injured face was dead, face slammed against the corner of the dresser with Mitch on top of him.

The woman with the bleeding leg lunged at you, causing you both to slam into the ground. You groaned and gasped for a breath, the air was knocked from your lungs and it was then you noticed your mask had been knocked off.

“What the fuck…” she shuddered, her bleeding thighs straddling your waist. She began to hit you in the face, you could tell from the noises she made and how out of breath she was that she was putting in effort, but she was barely hitting you. She must’ve lost a lot of blood. You grabbed her wrists, pretty pale face now on display, and shoved her off of you, hearing her scream and grab her leg once more.

You reluctantly looked to Mitch, who had already begun fighting the last guest. A healthy woman, screaming and clawing at him, kicking with all her might. You knew you had it easy, so you looked around the room. Damn the Devil for deciding a kids bedroom was a good idea for an escape room, and it was at this moment you wished you’d been assigned the knife room or had been given the chainsaw.

With no sturdy weapon in sight, the door key shined on the floor, practically calling your name with its acicular point. The tune ended, a shotgun blast made you jump and let out a yelp, losing focus momentarily. But, lucky for you, it scared the girl as well. The doll mask skittered across the floor as you shoved it aside to reach the key, and when you finally grabbed it, you knew you didn’t have time to look at it. Time to look at her. You had to do it now, or you would never do it.

With a scream, you weren’t sure if it was you or her, maybe both, the sharp end of the key was shoved as far as it could go into the side of her neck. Warmth gushed over your hand and sprayed outwards onto your entire body, coating you both, which you supposed was a good sign that you’d hit an artery. With shaking hands and a stomach in knots you stumbled off of her convulsing, bleeding body, watching what remained of her blood soak into the wood and small rug. You stood there speechless, feeling nothing but hesitation. Should you regret this?

“That was…really fucking hot.” Your head slowly turned, you could feel blood drip into your eye, but you saw Mitch standing there, also covered in red, in shock. Mask still on, you couldn’t tell exactly what he was thinking but the way he stood there gave you a good feeling that you’d made the right decision.

His cloak dragged the viscous liquid across the floor as he walked towards you, hands coming to your face. With a gloved thumb he wiped the blood from your eye, revealing your perfectly tattooed beauty mark. “My little doll…” he said softly, hands moving down your blood stained frilly dress to your waist. “You’re perfect…you fit in so good here…”

You felt your heart swell with pride, love, happiness, you weren’t sure, but you were sure that he was the reason for all of it.

His hands kept moving, one lifting the first layer of your skirt slowly and the other moving down to toy with the corset ties on your back. “You did so good on your very first Halloween…I think a reward is in order.”

A/N: idea suggestion by the lovely @free-for-all-fics I hope you like it!!

[desaturatedd]

𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐃𝐘 𝐓𝐎 𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐘, 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃𝐘 𝐓𝐎 𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐑 . (   a  collection  of  sentence  starters  from baccano! volumes 6 & 7 — the slash . )

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐈 .

❛  i may be a child, but... i'm not here to play around, you know.  ❜

❛  do you really think an excuse like that will work? ❜

❛ if i told you to kill someone, could you kill them?   ❜

❛  unfortunately, i am not kind.  ❜

❛  you're like a fantastically, magnificently crazed angel.  ❜

❛  that blade is your compañero — your partner.  ❜

❛  as a favor to this wacky young guy who believed in my skills and asked me to, i came here to kill you!  ❜

❛  i want to wait here a little longer, just a little longer.  ❜

❛  calm down, please... are you all right? what on earth happened here?  ❜

❛  i don't think i deserve that vengeful glare you're giving me.  ❜

❛  here i went to all that trouble to save you, and you don't grateful at all.  ❜

❛  that glare you're giving me is far, far more real than the earlier one. that's not just hate. that's real anger, mixed with the fear of losing something.  ❜

❛  you lack concentration. you're neglecting your training; that's why these things happen.  ❜

❛  i wonder.... if this is a sort of karma laid down for us immortals. ❜

❛  show a little gratitude, would you?  ❜

❛  in other words, you're a failure.  ❜

❛  you exist just to get exploited.  ❜

❛  you wanted to know whether, just maybe, you would find joy in stealing and destroying what others had built up.  ❜

❛  and? how was it? how did it feel to steal what they worked so hard to create?  ❜

❛  is it even possible to get over the past or give up emotions by yourself?  ❜

❛  people have the power to get rid of sorrow and pain by themselves.  ❜

❛  no wonder he managed to steal my heart with such panache before i even noticed!  ❜

❛  long story short... they're our sacrificial pawns.  ❜

❛  do you believe in ties that can never be cut, no matter how badly people are wounded or how much pain they're in?  ❜

❛  i want to believe there are things that will never, ever break, no matter how much pain someone takes, or how badly they're wounded.  ❜

❛  someday, i'm sure somebody will hurt and break me too, you know? i'm prepared for that.  ❜

❛  the folks behind me are my friends, and you can just ignore them.  ❜

❛  i'll get right to the point — do you people want to become immortal?  ❜

❛  i think this is probably going to hurt a lot, so i'll apologize now! i'm sorry!  ❜

❛  why did ____ start saying complicated stuff all of a sudden?  ❜

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐈𝐈 .

❛ you never put your life on the line, so there's no way you could know how i feel! ❜

❛  i wanted to find a new friend in this new town.  ❜

❛  those guys were planning to get rid of you fellas from the very beginning.  ❜

❛  if i wasn't telling you this stuff, you'd have been on your way to the afterlife before you even knew what hit you.  ❜

❛  she don't look like it, but she's a monster who's killed lots of people.  ❜

❛  she's got nothing to do with this.  ❜

❛  whatever happens to you, it's no skin of my nose.  ❜

❛  we're a band of psychotic weirdos.  ❜

❛  it's okay. don't you worry about a thing. i'm here.  ❜

❛  i won't let 'em lay a finger on your friends.  ❜

❛  i hate troublesome stuff. let's just be direct here.  ❜

❛  no matter what you're planning, now that i'm here, there won't be any problems. ❜

❛  no matter what a snot-nosed kid like you tries to hide from me, i seriously doubt it could damage my life.  ❜

❛  so if you want to use me, you just go right ahead. because i'm gonna use you right back.  ❜

❛  long story short — i can do anything.  ❜

❛  i don't really have to explain this situation, do i?  ❜

❛  see, right now, i seriously have no idea what to do.  ❜

❛  that twisted bastard loves watching people suffer.  ❜

❛  the death of a good friend. in life, that sorrow is a wall everyone must overcome someday. you can't stay sad forever.  ❜

❛  the state of your brain makes me sadder than anything.  ❜

❛  what am i to you?  ❜

❛  no matter how many friends i make after this, i seriously doubt i could make a better friend than you.  ❜

❛  if i disobeyed ____, would you kill me?  ❜

❛  in a way, ____ deserves respect for having raised you to be this twisted.  ❜

❛  you're curious about that group, aren't you?  ❜

❛  you're a 'friend' i can't manage to shake.  ❜

❛  it's a little late to worry about the impression we're making on people, you know?  ❜

❛  you're trying to finish this job up with a bang and boost your confidence.  ❜

❛  although i don't get 'feelings', i do kinda understand 'emotions'.  ❜

❛  didn't you ever think i might be tricking you?  ❜

❛  right now, we'll cling to any power that will keep us alive.  ❜

❛  as long as you're alive, you can make a comback.  ❜

❛  i mean, compared with me, 99.99999 percent of the world is weak.  ❜

❛  someday i'm going to cut you down, too.  ❜

❛  i was just surprised. that's incredible. you can be proud of that. i'm almost never surprised.   ❜

❛  if it were fine, they wouldn't have gotten kidnapped in the first place, right?  ❜

❛  how do you want me to answer that?  ❜

❛  i keep myself from knowing the future.  ❜

❛  i told you i l'd learned all sorts of things about you, remember? i know everything about you.  ❜

❛  tell me of the world you wish for, of all the malice you hold toward this world.  ❜

❛  welcome to dreamland — but it's nightmares only.  ❜

❛  i'll be your hostage.  ❜

❛  i apologize for temping you.  ❜

❛  even empty bravado is impressive when you take it that far.  ❜

❛  i was the one who should have died, so... i'm paying for that.  ❜

❛  looks like you underestimated us.  ❜

❛  nature can be so whimsical. that's why i love it.  ❜

❛ i bet you didn't think i was watching the scenery reflected in your eyes, did you? ❜

❛  god might actually love you.  ❜

❛  there's no god anywhere in the world. the only one's inside me.  ❜

❛  i get to retire from being a loser a lot faster than you losers.  ❜

❛  i couldn't... think of any way to protect ____ other than killing. that's all it was.  ❜

❛  you're a bigger scumbag than i thought you were.  ❜

❛ i think the world's pretty small — but that does mean it's pretty deep, doesn't it? ❜

❛  i'm sorry. please take your anger out on me.   ❜

❛  when i look at you, i think i can sense family ties, just a little... i'm going to use them, though... i'm sorry.  ❜

❛  right now, i think i almost understand what you're feeling.  ❜

❛  i've had folks say they'd curse me more than a hundred times.  ❜

❛  it's up to you whether we're friends or lovers!  ❜

❛  i didn't come here to listen to you whine.  ❜

❛  you remembered my name. although i don't remember ever telling you what it was...  ❜

❛  do you intend to bury my life in tedium?  ❜

❛  if i were to sum up your existence in one word, it would be — cheater.  ❜

❛  those words are true, but not the whole truth. isn't that right?  ❜

❛  if we're discussing jails, i've been in one for several centuries already.  ❜

❛  i wouldn't make too light of humans if i were you.  ❜

❛  that information doesn't make me the least bit happy.  ❜

❛  i'm someone neither god nor the government will forgive.  ❜

❛  being nameless is good enough.  ❜

❛  ...well, no matter.  ❜

[altades]

The adventurers’s diary

With the end of our adventure finally crossed I have decided to find an empry book and quill among the piles of junk we’ve picked up along the way to string my erratic thoughts into some sort of sensable paragraghs. If only to use up all the ink I have stacked away in camp, though even a full chest of empty pages won’t be enough to depict all the troubles we have weathered.

My name is errelavant, so is my past, for I have lost them in the end. And I will not mention them for the fear that skummy bard decides to steal it, though I do not belive he holds much favor for the truth. But if any adventurer finds this message, forgotten in a place I have long since abandoned, or stacked away in a corner of a dusty bookshelf and be curious enough to read it, you are welcome to share the last shreds of humanity I can conjure up.

I have been no hero, no warrior, no chosen when it all began. But I had a desire that has been etched into my soul, so deeply a thousand scars couldn't carve it out. To be loved, but more so, to deserve to be loved. It was what made me so eager to help anyone and everyone I've met. Just so they would look at me kindly, just so they would stay, just so they would keep their words and hands gentle when they brushed against mine.

By a twist of fate I was granted an opportunity to serve as a savior not to a few, but to thousands, maybe millions, of souls. I was the beacon of light to the whole of Faerun, and even to those beyond it. My journey is sure to be immortalized in countless ballads, my heavy footsteps followed by bards and historians alike. They will sing in awe, yet they will never know the cost of their salvation.

"We own you our lives!" They said in unison. "We'll never forget you." They promised. They didn't know the person they cherished was already dead.

Their body was dismembered, consumed and twisted into a new form, disgusting and vile.

Their soul was devoured by the very creature they sought to destroy.

Their mind… Is still there. Shreds of consciousness, beliefs and ideas, slipping away with every passing day.

Now I stand where they stood. They haunt me like a ghost of you as a child. Like somebody you used to know, somebody you used to be, but through time and change no longer are. When your hair was sun-bleached blond, only to darken with age. When your voice, light as a fairy bell once, got deeper and stronger. When your skin, smooth and pure, got covered in scars big and small. My changes are… more dramatic. It makes it hard to believe I was ever myself at all.

Perhaps my love saw it too. After all of our companions went their separate ways, we went together at first. But it didn't last long. I sensed it in his voice, saw the disgust in his eyes, felt in his touch before he said anything. He did not want to be with me anymore. I cannot blame him, for my new appearance would only attract either the bravest, or the insane, and he is neither. But it still hurt. At least, I think it did.

It's getting harder to grasp the sway of my emotions. What was a living ocean of feeling is now but a puddle in a desert, quickly drying up. I know I should've been heartbroken when he left, after all, it is what is expected of a person when the life of their life leaves them. But it's hard to feel broken when you no longer have a heart.

Maybe I should end this, while there is still something left of me to end. But he has taught me that I am more than what I am willing to sacrifice, so let my last act of devotion to him be to act selfishly, and to live on no matter what I may become.

I wish my companions were here with me. Maybe they could guide me, as I've guided them, to a better future. Bring out the best in me, believe in good in me, show me the way. But I am alone, and the hunger grows. I envy vampires, for they can consume without killing. And they have the privilege of never seeing the reflection of the monster they have become.

Fortunately, we will see each other soon. I only hope to keep the shreds of my identity together long enough to be able to bask in their company, for they hold the parts of me that cannot be lost.

The rest of the pages are stained with blood, unintelligible.

[the-stage-manager]

IF I DONT TELL SOMEBODY ABOUT MY TAV IM GOING TO EXPLODE

Here he is, his name is Urzire. He is (was) a pirate.

(Look at how pretty he is in these blue robes. He's so tranquil UwU)

He is a tiefling charletan bard, college of swords, former pirate captain. He fell in love with Astarion while committing scams. Unfortunately he has a condition where he only gets the Brain CellTM during the full moon (dumb of ass)

He was actually born 150ish years before the events of BG3, in a small village. His parents were farmers and he has 8 siblings and is the second youngest. He was 5 when his younger brother was born, and made it his life's mission to protect him. His parents were farmers and, unfortunately, their village was razed when Urzire was 15. He lost his entire family, and was captured and sold as a slave.

For the next seven years, he labored deep beneath the surface of the earth mining for coal and rare minerals. At one point, he and a handful of others were trapped in a cave in, where they were stuck for over three weeks waiting for rescue. So... Yeah. He's not a big fan of the Underdark. Or the caves.

He secured his freedom after seven years and found work as a sailor. Though TBH he wasn't very good at the whole "honesty" and "not stealing" thing and he was a within like three months. It was a real quick turn around.

He met Astarion in a bar—Astarion, at this point, was only eighty years or so into his slavery, so he was, admittedly, in a different mindset. A little more desperate, a little less jaded, just starting to lose hope. They met at a ball Cazador dragged his spawn to; Astarion claimed to be a magistrate, Urzire claimed to also be a magistrate, and they then proceeded to seduce each other. Astarion wanted a victim for Cazador, and Urzire wanted a victim to hold as ransom. Unfortunately neither succeeded but, by sheer happenstance, they met up again in a bar months later.

Look, it's the perfect meet-cute: boy meets boy, boy1 confesses to being a vampire, boy2 confesses to having a hostage in the basement that needs to die so "I guess I wouldn't mind so terribly much if you happened to steal her away to eat..." Look, they both think they're manipulating each other, okay? Astarion thinks he's putting on a sob story to gain a powerful ally, Urzire thinks he's doing favors for a powerful vampire who will be in his debt. UNFORTUNATELY THEY BOTH CATCH FEELINGS FOR EACH OTHER.

Honestly, who could have seen it coming?

The truth is revealed, they fall in love, Urzire makes plans to kill Cazador, he also reunites with his long-lost little brother (who is married and has. Tiny baby eee!) It's all very lovely and nice.

Except then it goes to shit.

His ship sinks, and he washes ashore on a tiny island in the Feywilds, because the fey who rules the island, Callipso, fell in love with him and wants to make him her husband. He resists as best he can, but Urzire is trapped with her, and she's a fey. She charms him, and takes what she wants, even though he doesn't want to give it. Every time they are intimate, he loses a piece of himself—literally. His skin turns grey, he loses his ability to play the violin, to sing, to do much of anything, and he's losing his memories. After 12 months, Callipso finally releases him and when he washes up on the shore back in the mortal plane, he barely remembers who he even is. All he knows is that he's in love with somebody, and they're suffering, and he has to find them.

He wanders aimlessly around the city, like a zombie, before a Nautoloid appears out of nowhere and BAHM! Tadpoled.

Except, here's the thing: time passes differently in the Feywilds. While only 12 months passed for Urzire, 120 years passed in the mortal plane.

And Urzire has no idea. In fact, when he meets Astarion, he doesn't recognize him, his memories are too fractured. But Astarion looks at Urzire and sees the ghost of a man who abandoned him, who betrayed him, who left him to rot for over a century. He doesn't believe it at first. But once he realizes... It's bad. He bites the Tiefling that night with 100% the intention to drink him dry. But Urzire seems completely in the dark and that throws him off.

They fall in love slowly. Urzire continues to show Astarion relentless compassion and, at first, the vampire wants none of it. But slowly, he warms up to it. He pieces the story together from the bits and pieces Urzire tells around the campfire—the Tiefling was just as trapped as he was, in many ways. He's still bitter... But it fades. He falls in love.

By the time they reach Baldur's Gate, Uzire still doesn't recognize him, but he's fallen in love, and he feels guilty about it—after all, he loves somebody back in the city, somebody who needs him.

Astarion tries to hint at the reality of the situation but doesn't have the courage to tell him outright. So when they reach the city and Urzire realizes how much time has passed... It's a doozy.

But it gets worse. Remember that bit where Urzire reunited with his long lost little brother, who is married and has a child? Well, when Urzire disappeared, Astarion didn't handle it well. He hoped for a long, long time but eventually gave up and his hope died and became rage. He took his anger out on Urzire's brother by stealing their young child in the dead of night (Astarion had been invited into the home, he had been Urzire's partner after all) and presenting him to Cazador to be eaten.

It's a secret that Astarion intended on taking with him to his grave. Until... They arrive in Cazador's palace and three guesses who's in that cell with the rest of the malnourished spawn? That's right. It's the little boy. Urzire doesn't actually recognize him, he'd only been a baby when he saw him last, as Calliope fried his memories pretty badly. In fact, Astarion doesn't even realize he's in there because he's too emotionally charged after the confrontation with Sebastian.

But after Cazador is dead, and they're climbing up the stairs to leave the palace, the realization hits Astarion in the chest like a fucking freight train. To his credit (perhaps he's only able to do it because he's already so emotionally numb), he tells Urzire and they go find the little boy, and Urzire insists on taking him back to camp.

He and Astarion do stay partners, even though their relationship is a little bit strained for a while after, understandably so. But they work it out, and Urzire goes on to adopt his nephew. Instead of living in the underground with the spawn after the game, he and Astarion and the boy immediately head to Waterdeep with Gale (because they are homeless lol) to start researchih cures for vampirism. Which they eventually find! Because it really isn't all that hard to cure vampirism in DnD.

So that's it. That's the story of my son.

[ejzah]

A/N: And here’s the post “Sensu Lato” Densi fic, in which they both get lucky. You know you really had to twist my arm with this one.

***

Get Lucky

“You know, we could have just snuck into the burn room,” Kensi suggested, her voice filled with innuendo and incredibly sexy.

They’d flirted the whole way home, jumping between sweet and the completely outrageous. It was like they’d flipped some kind of switch and suddenly all Deeks could think about was making love to Kensi as soon as and much as possible. Kensi seemed to be of the same opinion if her wandering hands were any indication.

Fortunately, Roberta had texted Kensi—“don’t worry, your daughter and I are safely out of hearing range. You guys can go crazy”—so they had the house all to themselves.

“Yeah, and Kilbride walking in on us would have killed my mood for the next month,” Deeks responded, pausing on the front porch to steal a quick kiss. Kensi giggled, cupping the nape of his neck to keep him in place. He moaned softly, widening his mouth as Kensi licked his bottom lip.

It was incredible that this morning they’d been discussing the lack of romance in their lives and now they were roughly five seconds from doing it for the whole neighborhood to see.

“Hey, we would should probably go inside,” Deeks said breathlessly, even as he slid the tips of his fingers inside Kensi’s waistband.

“If you insist.” Kensi plastered herself against him, her lips brushing his ear as she whispered, “But it would be exciting.” She followed it up by briefly tugging his earlobe between her teeth.

“Oh Mrs. Deeks, I can make things exciting without any exhibitionism,” Deeks promised. He managed to unlock the front door, tugging Kensi with him through the doorway. She closed it behind them as Deeks hurried to turn on a light (jamming his knee on the coffee table would definitely ruin some of the sexiness).

“You know, it’s been a while since you’ve danced for me,” she said coyly.

“Oh, like this?” Deeks grinned, drawing his hands up behind his head and rolled his hips slowly.

“Ooh.”

“You like that?” He continued with a hip thrust, keeping eye contact with Kensi the whole time. She nodded, laughing softly.

“Get over here,” she told him, and Deeks danced his way over. When he was a few inches away, Kensi tugged him against her using his belt loops, bringing their bodies together. With a playfully surprised expression, she slid her hand down his torso, cupping him through his jeans.

“Somebody’s happy to see me,” she teased, keeping her hand in place.

“Very,” Deeks agreed with a breathless little laugh. “Extremely, beyond happy.” He slipped his hand up her back, pulling her shirt up in the process. “Though if you could move your hand just a little to the left, that would be even more spectacular.”

“Oh really?” Obliging, Kensi leaned forward and kissed him again, their laughter mixing together as Deeks bent to nuzzle her lower jaw.

Head falling against the door, Kensi moaned softly, clasping Deeks head to urge him on. God, he had really had missed this. He drifted lower and sucked directly over Kensi’s pulse, making her gasp loudly.

“Oh my god,” she hissed. She nudged his head back, her cheeks flushed and smile bigger than ever. “Ok, we’re wearing way too many clothes.” Abruptly, she tore her sweater off, revealing a dark blue lace bra that made his eyes widen.

Kensi didn’t say anything else, just happily tugged his shirt over his head. She pressed a kiss to his right pec, sending little tingles across his skin.

“This is what I wanted,” she said unexpectedly.

“What, for me to ravish you?” He asked with a lascivious smile.

Kensi rolled her eyes, running a hand down his chest. “Yes. But I was also talking about the flowers, and the cute little notes…the playfulness. Date nights. That’s what I’ve been missing. Thank you for doing all of this for me. For us.”

Deeks lifted her hands to his lips, kissing the knuckles tenderly. “I meant what I said. I couldn’t bare to lose you. Or this.”

“You’ll never lose me.” Kensi sealed the promise with a kiss. “Now, what was that about you ravaging me?”

Picking her up around the waist, he carried her towards the couch. “Maybe we’ll make it to the bedroom later.”

[a-local-idiots-shitpost]

Locals Writing Prompts Part 1

nothing but Locals usual stupidity

-------------------------------------------------------

1. "Why is there a corpse and a acid bath"

"it's my self care day"

"this is no explanation what so ever"

"really? I thought it was pretty good"

2. "why are you holding a bottle of poison?"

"To depen our friendship and trust?"

"Congratulations you just achieved the opposite"

3. "Where did you get a dog from?"

"This poor little guy was sitting in a hot car for hours!"

"It's good that you saved the dog but what did I tell you about watching people"

"that we can't afford another lawsuit because losers think I stalk them despite me just wanting their pets"

"could have done without the losers but yes"

4. "Why are you holding roses?"

"Is it so suspicious I'm trying to be romantic?"

"It's you, of course it is"

5. (watching their beloved try and fail at opening a glass jar) "what did I do to deserve them"

6. "Okay I can explain"

"the kitchen is covered in blood and you in bandages so I hope it's good"

7. "Why is the house burning?"

"Okay in my defense you thought it was good idea to leave me alone"

8. "I found another kitten :D"

"beating someone up and taking their pet because they are a shit owner doesn't count as finding"

9. "Frog buddy :D"

"this one is poisonous"

"oh so that's why my skin itches and you look like a funky 5 eyed cow"

10. "Why are you holding flowers?"

"because I love you?"

"You love nothing, what did you do?"

11. "Go to sleep, you look ugly and tired again"

"I'm always tired and ugly"

12. "Why are you holding a cake"

"I wanted to do something nice"

"you never do nice things"

13. "Where did you get a cat from?"

"Business secret"

"theft isn't a business secret"

14. "Did you just kiss me"

"aren't we together?"

"Yes and the last time I tried to hug you, you panicked and nearly broke one of your bones"

15. "Why are you calling me when it's 3AM"

"(screaming coming out of the phone)"

"please don't tell me you went through with your bank robbery plan"

"well..."

16. "I made cookies"

"are they safe to eat"

"yeah I tried them myself"

"I meant for somebody that isn't you"

17. "Meow"

"you aren't a cat"

"how do you know that?"

"for one you don't have whiskers" "what if I cut them off?"

"Please just shut the fuck up"

18. "I bought a venus flytrap"

"because you think they are really funny"

"I actualy hoped they would eat one of my roommates but yeah they are funny too"

19. "Did you steal my snack?"

"No"

"you are covered in crumbs"

"yeah from my own food"

"lying snake"

"you stole mine first, I'll call it getting even"

20. "I love you more than anything in the world and would die and kill for you"

"are you talking to the dog again?"

"Yeah who else?"

"Sometimes I wonder why I married you"