#she's caught a whiff of blood in the water

[kits-shrine]

“Oh, that? I’ve just been fiddling with it the last few evenings. Making trinkets like that helps me relax,” he chuckled. It wasn't his best work by any means, but it was fun to make and helped keep his mind off his longing for his true treasure.

"You made this?" She sounded intrigued as a craftswoman herself, her attention firmly on the giant "It's very lovely. It looks like real silver and the detailing is exemplary ."

[abyssruler]

teyvat academy

pairings: childe, kazuha, albedo, xiao, itto, scaramouche, zhongli x gn!reader

summary: they say high school is the most memorable point in a person’s life, you’re more than inclined to agree. or, genshin men as the different types of people you meet in high school! (all of them can be connected if you squint)

note: gender neutral but implied afab for itto’s part only, no pronouns, mentions of weed and smoking in kazuha’s part, scara’s part is def my favorite

CHILDE

Adrenaline junkie. Gets into fights almost everyday, to the point where everyone wonders how he hasn’t been expelled yet. His family is filthy rich and pays the school hush money disguised as donations.

Seeing him beating someone up is such a common occurrence that most students just walk by whenever it happens. Which is why he’s completely surprised to see you approach him after he lost a fight, sitting by the water fountain and sporting a busted lip and yellow bruises all over his face that’ll turn purple tomorrow.

Turns out it’s not because of some misplaced sympathy that made you approach him that day, you just wanted to ask him if he knows where your friend Yelan went after she beat him in a fight earlier. He tells you he doesn’t know but he heard her mutter something about going to the restroom to clean up the blood on her knuckles, so that’s a good place to start looking. You thank him for his help, eyes lingering on the injuries caused by your friend for a moment before taking your leave.

Maybe it’s guilt at how uncaring you must have seemed in the face of his injuries, at leaving so quickly without even asking him if he’s okay, but the next time you see him after another fight, you give him a box of bandaids with cute heart designs. It was the only box left in the store so you had no choice but to buy them, better something cutesy than nothing. You say it’s for the cuts in his face and split skin of his fingers.

When he opens the box and sees the heart designs, his face lights up like a christmas tree. He thanks you with a grin and says the bandaids remind him of the ones his younger sister always gives him.

The next time you see him is across the cafeteria, wearing the bandaid designed with hearts despite the teasings of his friends. When he catches you looking his way, he sends you a wink and gestures to the bandaid on his cheek before returning his attention to his friends. Yelan asks you what that was about, but you smile and tell her it’s nothing.

KAZUHA

The school’s local weed dealer. Completely unexpected given his friendly and calm demeanor, but in hindsight, that’s probably the reason why he’s never been caught. Word has it that if you’re willing to pay enough money, he can contact a few of his friends and get you some coke.

For some reason though, he never allows you to buy anything from him, nor does he let you take a whiff when he smokes.

You first meet him while walking through the back of one of your school’s buildings to avoid getting detention. It’s there that you see Kazuha leaning on the wall, roll in hand as he blew smoke into the air. Maybe it’s the fact that you’re both going to detention should you get caught, you for cutting classes and him for smoking something that’s probably weed, but you walk right up to him, plop yourself beside his legs, and ask him how shitty his day is for him to be smoking out in broad daylight. He laughed as a response, and the rest is history.

Not once in all your time as friends has he ever let you take a hit, even just for a brief moment. Going so far as to refuse even when you offered to pay double the price. His only explanation was that smoking is a bad habit you should never try. When you called him on his hypocrisy, he only smiled that familiar smile that somehow made him look like a gallant knight and told you he doesn’t want his friends to form an addiction.

Pointing out that his usual customers mostly consist of his friend group, he looks at you with something you can’t quite read. Amusement? Fondness? Or maybe he’s just high. When you ask him why he’d sell weed to Heizou and Yoimiya but not you, his only response was, “Because they aren’t you.”

The next time you meet up with your shared friends and recount the conversation you had with Kazuha, they laugh and clap you consolingly on the back, all while calling you oblivious.

ALBEDO

Top student. Completely effortless in getting the highest marks.

“Oh, the test? No, I didn’t study for it,” he tells you, and you think you finally have a companion in the ‘surely failing because they didn’t study team,’ but then the test results come out and he singlehandedly scores perfect marks.

He offers to tutor you when he sees you lamenting over your failed chemistry test. It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity to be taught by the smartest student in your school, so you immediately take him up on that offer. He’s surprisingly good at teaching, doesn’t use complex words and tries to dumb down an explanation without sounding condescending.

It shows in the form of your next test result, showing only two mistakes out of fifty items. In your excitement, you ask him what you can do in exchange for him teaching you. Surprisingly, he asks if he can sketch you. Seeing nothing wrong with the request, you readily agree.

He doesn’t let you see the sketch until after it’s done. It takes bugging him in the middle of class, sitting next to him at lunch, and a lot of canoodling on your part to let you take a peak at his drawing. Still, he remains stubborn, so you’re left to wait until he actually finishes it.

When he does show it to you, it’s during the end of class just as everyone’s leaving their seats after the bell rings. The sketch depicts you with the happiest grin you’ve ever seen on your face. You’ve never once thought of yourself as anything but average in terms of looks, but Albedo seems to have a way of making people more beautiful than they are.

When you say so to him, he blinks at you and says he didn’t modify any features on his sketch, he just drew you exactly how you look in his eyes.

XIAO

The one people think is a delinquent. His aloof nature and the perpetual frown on his face don’t exactly help with his reputation. He’s your classmate, but he always keeps to himself and rarely engages in class activities unless necessary.

Your teacher partners the two of you up for a class project. You notice him looking distinctly uncomfortable at having to work as pairs once the announcement was made, so once you’re able to, you propose the idea of working on your own respective parts and compiling your works at a later date because he seems to prefer working on his own.

To your surprise, he says no to your idea. He tells you it’d be more difficult to complete the project that way and that he doesn’t really mind working with you.

The deadline for it is two months away, but both of you agree on getting an early start. That’s how you find yourself sitting beside him in the library everyday after school, typing away on your laptop and taking notes on your notebook. He’s actually a great partner, always asks for your opinion and gently corrects you whenever you make a mistake.

It isn’t until you’re working late at the library and he returns with snacks and drinks—your favorite snacks and drinks that he sheepishly admits he remembered from a passing remark you made weeks ago—that you realize that Xiao isn’t the aloof person you initially thought he was. He can actually be very thoughtful, he just doesn’t get much chances to show it to others.

On one particular day, after you spent the day away in the library until the sun came down, he offers to walk you home. He then realizes how presumptuous that must have sounded and mutters a quick ‘never mind.’ But before he can leave, you tell him you won’t mind if he walks you home.

The walk home is quiet, but it’s a nice sort of quiet. Comfortable. The only incident that happened on the way was when you encountered a drunk man, and before he could make a step towards you, Xiao was already looking at him with a cool glare that managed to scare the drunkard off.

He offers to walk you home again the next day, and the day after that, and so on. Even after you’ve submitted your project, he continues to walk you home. One day, when you get the courage, you hope you can finally ask him out for coffee sometime.

ITTO

An actual delinquent. He and his gang can usually be found loitering the hallways or spending time in detention.

You once run into him and his gang when you were out of class for a restroom break, all of them crowding outside the entrance to the girl’s restroom. Apparently, Shinobu, their gang’s second in command, is on her period but they don’t know where to get any tampons and pads ‘cause she forgot to bring some with her. You offer to give her your spare.

Itto thanks you by buying you lunch, saying you saved the Arataki gang from total destruction because they would’ve never survived without Shinobu. You think he’s overreacting a bit, but free food’s free food.

You feel a little bad once you find out he spent all his money on the meal he bought you, so you offer to buy him something in return. He tells you he owes you for it, and the next day he’s right outside your classroom holding a plastic bag full of take-out. The next time you walk past him in the hallways, you give him a muffin from the box you just bought.

It becomes a routine, giving each other food whenever the two of you see each other. Sometimes, you even sneak into detention just to give him some sweets, and sometimes he disrupts your class by barging in just give you a candy bar. He always gets detention afterwards.

When you ask him why he keeps doing it, he said he likes the surprised smile that always brightens your face whenever he shows up at your classroom unannounced.

SCARAMOUCHE

The principal’s son. Incredibly spoiled and thinks he owns the place. Never gets in trouble because his mother’s the principal and everyone is too scared to report him.

Until you did.

You can still remember the shocked look on his face when he turned around after deliberately tripping poor Bennett and saw Miss Yae, your school’s guidance counselor, right behind him. You don’t know the exact details, but you heard he was sent to the principal’s office and given a severe lecture by his own mother. Word has it he came out the office looking like he was ready to murder something.

Somehow, he finds out that you’re the one who reported him. He instantly makes it his goal to make your life a living hell. Unfortunately for him, the faculty has been keeping a close eye on him so he can’t do anything too incriminating. From glares in the hallways to pretending not to see you as he ‘accidentally’ bumps into you on the bustling corridors and making you drop your stack of papers to the floor.

When your friends found out, they immediately urged you to report his behavior directly to the principal, so that’s what you did. You were on your way to the principal’s office when you hear a sniffle coming from the closed door of the nearby stairwell. Concerned, you open the door with the intention of comforting whoever might be crying behind it, only to come face to face with the surprised expression of Scaramouche.

He quickly wipes away his tears and fixes you with a glare that could have killed anyone on the spot. But the damage has been done and you’ve seen what you’ve seen, so his glare barely has any effect on you, not when his eyes are still red and there’s dried tear-tracks on his cheeks. You stare at each other for a few moments before you offer him your handkerchief and tell him you don’t know exactly why he’s crying but that it’ll get better. He tells you to get out but not before accepting the handkerchief you offered.

Needless to say, you don’t go to the principal’s office after.

He stops bothering you after that incident, but you once catch sight of him with his friends outside school. One of them starts talking about you, badmouthing you in front of him in an attempt to cater to the well-known fact that he hates your guts. He doesn’t even get to finish his sentence before Scaramouche snarls at him to shut up.

The next time you pass him by the hallway, you give him a small smile. He hastily turns his head away, but not before you catch sight of the redness at the tips of his ears.

ZHONGLI

The handsome senior everyone’s developed a crush on at least once in their life.

The two of you didn’t exactly meet at school. It was back when you were still a freshman and Zhongli was a sophomore, though even then he was already popular. The coffee shop near your school was packed and the only seat left was the one in front of you, so naturally, that’s when he comes in asking if the seat’s free.

You were still relatively friendless back then, no familiar faces yet since it was only the beginning of the school year, so being approached by a popular sophomore felt like a dream to you. He was kind and patient, even going so far as to help you navigate through school during the first few weeks of adjustment.

You developed a silly crush on him during those weeks that only faded when you became closer to him and realized how much of that popular persona he had were just for show. You’d lost count of the amount of times you had to pay for both your meals just because he forgot his wallet at home, or how many times you almost fell asleep once he went off on a tangent about one such thing or another.

But even so, he’s one of the best friends you made in school.

You’re the one he goes to for help in choosing a university for college, and the two of you spend an entire night at your house brainstorming and writing down the pros and cons of each school. You have differing personalities and opinions, but by the end of it, you’re both satisfied with his decision regarding the school he chose.

And then you pass out on your couch after pulling that all-nighter. When you wake up, there’s lunch laid out on the dining table and a handwritten note from Zhongli.

To my beloved dearest friend, I hope you enjoy the meal and have a great day :)

[lirational]

Gazania

Alpha!Coquelicot x Omega!Reader

Warnings: Dark content, Omegaverse, dubious consent, (minor) dehumanization. DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT.

Disclaimer: Written before release with minimal information. OOC abound. You have been warned!

Additional message: I promise I am working on the requests I am sorry RUSJDUDJSHSB

SMUT UNDER THE CUT. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

If, back then, you were told that one day you would be snatched up on the streets while taking a shortcut, you would’ve laughed in their face and tell them to stop watching too many movies.

Now, you would laugh without mirth, for such an event became your reality.

Fearmongers would claim that it was unsafe for an unclaimed Omega to roam freely without suppresants, even in short trips, and you were just an hour late for your next dose. You left your pills at home that day, figuring that the dose you took should give you enough time for the trip home.

A mistake you would come to regret.

When you came to, you were greeted by a woman clad in white, naked with your hands tied up in lace, laid sideways on a plush bed. Were you able to see yourself, you would realize that the ropes binding you created such a beautiful sight, an artful display meant for the woman now sitting on the sofa in front of you.

“Ah, I see you are awake.”

Her movements ooze elegance, from the way her dress wrapped around her lithe, pale body, down to the splotches of ruby jewels that gleamed like stark droplets of blood under the light. Her smile was terrifying, claiming, and as she stepped closer, you caught a whiff of her scent. Sweet, with something metallic hidden underneath that captivated your senses in a dance with the macabre. She was nothing short of beautiful, and you half wondered, in the start of your lust-inflicted haze.

Do your scent affect her even half as much as hers did?

A pointless question, and you gulped as you saw the bulge barely hidden by her short dress, the outline of a piercing visible at the end.

One hand grasped your cheek, the other tilting your chin up, forcing you to look at her ruby pupils that shimmered like blood. Her lips curled into a scimitar smile, and a shiver went down your spine, her touch setting your skin alight as your body started to submit in her presence—

The unmistakable presence of an Alpha.

“An unclaimed Omega, passing in such a secluded place… One would wonder whether you were trying to invite rabid mutts on yourself,” she shook her head, her gaze filled with a mocking compassion, tinged with unmistakable lust as her pheromones started to fill the room, spreading much like black coloring drops in pristine water. Desire was coiling in your body, preparing yourself for a potential mate, and you start to fidget, sweat dampening your skin while moisture gathered down below, likely forming a puddle with each passing second.

Despite that, the Alpha woman caressing you still seemed as if she was unaffected.

“As for my name… call me Coquelicot. Shorten it as you like, I only want to hear you scream it later,” she accentuated her threat with a rough twist on your nipples, drawing a groan that escaped your lips before you could think to even stop it, “My dear flowers have been keeping an eye on you. To think the chance to take you away arrived this soon…”

“Y, you can’t do this,” you reply, your trembling, high-pitched voice undermining any attempts at loading your voice with a semblance of authority, “My roommates will be looking for me if I don’t reach home before ten, and, I attend the—“

“They have been taken care of, my little Omega,” she cut you off, hand reaching for the ribbon on your back. With that, just like unwrapping a present, your bonds unraveled, dropping into strips of ribbons on the bed. She took one end of the ribbon and lifted your wrists up, binding your hands together, then pulled the end of the knot with her teeth, forming a tight seal that did not even allow even the slightest movement.

Her fingers glide down the sides of your body, gripping your waist in a vice-grip strength. In a contrast to your state, as you get messier from sheer desperation with each tick of the seconds, she was the epitome of patience. Her other hand cupped your dripping folds, and in a contrast to her projected grace and beauty, the way she presses on your entrance almost screams out her desire, before slipping the tip of one digit in. In a teasing motion, she wriggled her finger, and it was enough to make your toes curl, the end of a choked moan slipping through pursed lips.

“That’s no good,” she tutted, then slipped a second finger in, curling her digits before she spread them apart, drawing out a high-pitched noise that slipped out before you could stop it.

“I want to hear you.”

Even if what was left of your thoughts could muster a fight, your body had long recognized it was futile. White was creeping at the edges of your vision, while your body bucked in response to any form of stimulation. Coquelicot’s movements conveyed impatience that was not visible from how calm and languid she sounded, delicate fingers massaging your walls and mapping each reaction that spilled from your lips.

Coquelicot smelled of blood and roses, distinct metallic tang fading into sweetness at the end, the scent potent enough that with a whiff, you felt like metallic sweetness had swirled on your tongue and coated your insides. She kept up the scissoring motion of her fingers, undeterred in her quest to split you apart, to truly stake her claim on you. With a shuddering breath and a mockery of an attempt to call out her name, you spilled on her fingers, coating her pale hand with your slick.

Under the throes of your still burning lust, only slightly alleviated by coming once, you beg for her.

“Please… Coque— no, please, more—,” finally, finally a plea slipped from your lips, your earlier hiss and bite all but gone as your whole being yearned, screamed for her. You try to buck your hips, to meet the base of her fingers in hopes of feeling her touch on that sweet, sweet spot once more, yet she was too quick, a confident smirk gracing her face. It was a stark contrast to the twitching member hidden beneath her short dress, its length tenting the white garment enough that if you look just a bit lower, you would have seen everything she has down there.

“Ah, now you are finally begging! Show me, show me then, my little Omega, show me how desperate you are.”

Coquelicot stopped moving her fingers, though she kept them inside you.

“Use those hips of yours, let me hear you call my name, my blooming Gazania, my beautiful Omega. Give me unshakable proof of your loyalty for me.”

You have all but thrown your dignity to the wind, allowing yourself to be consumed by this blood-coated promise of pleasure. Though you were pinned down, restricting your movement, you still obeyed the best you could, rolling your hips in an attempt to meet the base of her fingers.

If only you could see your own expression, wanton with lust and eyes no longer reflecting any coherent thoughts. Your skin shined with sweat, evidence of the furnace burning inside, and yet you still wanted - no, needed - more. Your attempts were futile, and from the amusement dancing in Coquelicot’s gaze, she was fully aware of it.

“What happened, my little Omega? Don’t you want release?”

There was mocking glee in her voice.

“I need— I need you inside me,” you admitted with trembling lips. As an afterthought, you added, “Please.”

To your surprise, she smiled, and with an embarassing, wet sound, she pulled her fingers out, leaving you with a gaping ache bigger than you have expected.

Then, sheshoved her sullied fingers into your mouth.

“Clean this up first, then.”

Her command was accentuated as the pheromones swirling in the room intensified, turning your emptiness into clawing, unending, torturous desire. Evidence of your need had long since dripped onto your inner thighs and sullied the luxurious bed you were on, sheer need driving your thoughts to nothing else but the alpha in front of you.

You obeyed, swirling your tongue on her digits, tasting yourself on her skin.

Satisfied, she pulled her fingers out, then you saw a glimpse, her elegance almost discarded out the window as she pulled down her own panties, ruined and sullied with her own juices. As she pulled her dress aside, you saw her member in all seven inches of its full glory. The gleam of metal gave away its pierced tip and sides, with a short ornament hanging on its very tip, close to the bead of precum already forming. A spiked cock ring could be seen at the base, its look reminiscent of rose thorns.

She did not give you a chance to admire it.

She aligned her pelvis with yours, looking at you with a gaze so loving, so deep in a wave of obsession that threatens to sweep you under. The tip of her cock pressed against your entrance, then it slipped in all too easily, your clenched walls allowing you to feel each bump at the side pressing against you.

Her slow entrance kept you at edge, even as the grip of her fingers tightened on your shoulders, a sign that she, too, was impatient and close to ramming everything inside. As she slid down slowly, savoring the feeling, you felt more complete. Euphoria washed over you as she finally slid everything inside you, her cock now pressing so deep you could feel it threatening to truly, finally split you apart and bind you to her in vines full of thorns and deceit.

“Try to stay awake, dear Gazania,” Coquelicot warned, the mockery made clear with her laugh.

That was not your name, but you could not find it to protest - perhaps, more like you were not given a chance to as her thrusts became faster, more erratic, a sign that she has truly let go of her restraints. Her ruby eyes almost shined with the intensity of it all, and her breaths became ragged, though you only saw that glimpse for a second before she lunged for your exposed skin, kissing marks that would paint your skin in smudged red and dark blue bruises later on. From your shoulders, the column of your neck, to your breasts, she kept you aware and able to feel everything she did, both as she rearranged your insides with each thrust, and the way her tongue swirled patterns on your stiff nipples.

Her groans became more stilted, louder, and so were your moans, spilling unbidden without care of who or what might hear the two of you tangled in twisted, bloodied passion. She pumped faster, caressing that sweet, sweet spot, her movements desperate for her own release, while you saw stars at the edge of your vision as you tipped over the edge, adding to the mess that was already pooling beneath you. Her cock twitched, once, twice inside you, then she came, her girth swelling, filling you up with both the scalding hot proof of your passionate tangle, and her dick that now acted as a plug, keeping you two in each other’s embrace.

You could feel that a little bit almost spilled out, yet it remained there, as if Coquelicot did not want any of it to go to waste.

“Haah, my flower… you are finally mine,” she muttered, warm tongue licking the spot near your neck, her breaths fanning the spot and causing you to shudder, but you were already too full, the craving of your body satisfied, and you wanted nothing more than to curl up, perhaps from the mix of shame and satisfaction. Thankfully, she seemed to understand, and helped shift your position, allowing you to sleep on your side, though still tangled. The last thing you heard, before she drifted off and left you to ponder your fate alone, was her sweet whisper.

“Let’s do it again when you are rested, my dear flower.”

[beansidhebumbling]

His heart tripped, stumbling in his chest and he heaved a breath at the painful tug at his ribs. A burning tightness felt in the gaps between seconds and there! Deep in bone he felt the twining braid of fate tugging at him, linking him, in life and beyond to the female that stood before him.

Nesta Archeron.

Nesta.

Nesta.

His heart righted itself and began beating anew to the rhythm of her name. 

The two sisters arrived at the townhouse in a flurry of blood, broken wings, and tears. The rain pounding on the shingled roof was too similar to the hammering in his skull for Rhysand’s liking. Feyre was beside herself, collapsing in his arms, a bundle of salt water and regret bound in a slight frame. Nuala stood nearby, expertly bandaging Azriel who gave a nod at Rhys’ cocked brow. His focus so torn between consoling the Saviour and calculating exactly how fucked they were, meant he only registered Nesta and Elain as two shadows of his own follies in his periphery.

When Cerridwen arrived with steaming tea, he handed Feyre off to Mor and made his way to the Shadowsinger, who had stationed himself by the rich velvet curtains of the sitting room window.

Casting a bubble of privacy around them with the wave of his hand, he turned his ire on his brother and growled,

‘What in the Mother’s name happened, Azriel?’

The Spymaster huffed, one scarred hand raising to tug at the ebony curls of his fringe. His shadows agitatedly moved in whisps and turns around his body, the same coordinated dance as flocks of birds in flight.

‘We walked right into a trap is what. I had no clue…’

He paused for a moment to stare at the storm that raged and scattered oak leaves along the small front garden.

‘Nes…We need to discuss some things privately Rhys, the Cauldron-’

An unyielding grip on Rhysand’s silk clad bicep halted Azriel, whose mouth clamped in a tight line. Rhysand turned, scowl adorning his face to shoo away the intruder when, like walking into an April shower, he was caught in a cloud of jasmine, and freesia, and something intoxicating he could not name, as he came face-to-face with her.

Hair freshly washed and braided framed a heart shaped face. Whiffs of fresh florals and a sticky sugar sweetness trailed like vines in the air. She was glaring at him with a wrath that seemed depthless, churning in the misty eddys of her glorious eyes.

His heart tripped, stumbling in his chest and he heaved a breath at the painful tug at his ribs. A burning tightness felt in the gaps between seconds and there! Deep in bone he felt the twining braid of fate tugging at him, linking him, in life and beyond to the female that stood before him.

Nesta Archeron.

Nesta.

Nesta.

His heart righted itself and began beating anew to the rhythm of her name. 

*

    Feyre had once told him they looked alike.

She had been flattering herself Rhysand thought unkindly. No living being could compare to the harpy that stood, stony-eyed and iron-spined before him. For she was beautiful in the way only those made of blades could be.

‘You’re Nesta, Feyre’s sister.’

His unimpressive observation was uttered far too breathily. Azriel’s eyes burned hot on the side of his face. His lungs were too busily engaged with supplying air to his brain as it ran in circles because she was his-

‘You’re the bastard Feyre is engaged to.’

Drenched in acid and seeped from behind gritted teeth, the quiet words still caught the pointed ears of the Saviour.

‘Nesta! Don’t you-'

Feyre started from her seat beside Mor, lit with indignation on his behalf. Her strange loyalty to him received so quickly and nearly entirely undeserved… the human in her remained. How long before she lost that? Before her emotions cooled in the way of fae who had centuries to ponder and simmer on feelings? Was her forgiveness obtained as quickly as her loyalty? Rhysand knew with a sickening surety he was guaranteed to discover the answer to the last question.

He held up one hand never glancing at the Saviour, for he had no will nor ability to look elsewhere, not when the rest of his life stood before him seething so prettily.

‘Feyre darling. It seems your lovely sister wants a word with me.’

The words charmingly uttered did not temper Nesta’s ire in the slightest. Unable to resist the chance for time alone in her all-consuming presence even if it meant to face the full force of her rage, he offered hastily,

‘May I suggest we talk in my study Nesta? So you may express yourself unencumbered by an audience.’

‘Rhys, there’s no need for that..’

Again he cut Feyre off growing impatient with her continued interruption. Did she not see the chess pieces were toppled around them, the plans so carefully formed crumpled and tossed?

Three steps ahead was still two steps behind his father had advised.

What would he say to his son now when it all seemed irrelevant? Now that his heart was threatening to leap from his throat to land at the slippered feet of his-

‘Feyre my darling. Please.’

He allowed some authority to leak into his tone. Feyre stiffened slightly, eyes open and pleading but after a few strained seconds she nodded her head slightly, moving to Elain’s side even as silence reigned.

Nesta’s eyes had only narrowed further throughout his interaction with the Saviour and when he extended her his arm, she looked pointedly at it, draped in the finest black silk woven by the Mothfae of the Elfeisian Valley, before ignoring it in favour of gliding from the room. With her chin held high, gaze higher still, she threw a scathing look at the Morrigan who whispered something to Cassian as she left.

He followed hurriedly, eyes glued to her, the dastardly pull, making her rejection of his proffered arm sting. She was a mere human not a day ago, a scornful shrew by Feyre’s account, a thorn in his side demanding security and protection below the Wall, when, if not for his vested interest in appeasing the Saviour of Prythian, he would have happily eaten her heart, and that of her doe of a sister too. Now she was a goddess who gazed upon him with such loathing that it tickled some perverse part of him.

If attention borne from hatred lit his skin aflame he could only imagine what such intense focus borne from more amiable feeling elicit in him. 

*

    As the door swung closed, the quiet hush of voices within could be scarcely heard, and mattered little, for she stood, arms folded before him, rendering him dumb as power eeked from her like rays from the sun.

He needed to say something.

Make some move.

Fall to his knees in a plea for marriage or forgiveness. Too slow at contemplating his options he lost his chance for action when she snapped,

‘Lead the way villain.’

His tether.

His entrancement.

The bond was pulled taut between them. Rhysand wondered could he see it shimmering if he squinted. And that chant continued in his pulse, catching his breath and breaking the rotten meat that lay in place of a heart.

Nesta

Nesta

Nesta

His mate. 

*

    Upon entering the study, Nesta made a beeline for the cushy leather chair in the corner and while arranging her full skirts gestured for him to take a seat at his desk, in his study.

Outside lightning struck and the sharp outlines of their shadows rose to almost kiss along the wall. The impertinence of her action, the arrogance, bit like venom at the back of his mouth.

But with it came the recollection he had pulled the exact same move on the eldest Vanserra not two years ago, making him almost shivery in anticipation. He had always revelled in a battle and here before him stood his equal who seemed to possess his playbook also.

So, he sat.

‘To what do I owe the honour of your anger?’

The languid drape of his frame, the jeering tone of his voice belied that he meant it. It was an honour and the way her power suffused through the air, cloaking him in blessed heat was driving him slightly mad.

It licked at his blood. His power hungered for her, the fantasy of her coated in the obsidian hand of night taunted him. Would she fall drunk when encased in his blanket of stars and gloom? Would she beg for a taste of eternal darkness?

Nesta shifted in her seat unaware of his more desperate musings. She did not waste time and spit out,

‘What have you done to my sister?’

Rhysand felt his jaw clench slightly despite himself. A slight flaw in his poker face. His composure shaky in the face of jasmine and freesia and the thought of burying his head in the curve of her neck and inhaling.

The tell was enough.

She could smell the answer in the scent of his posture, had clearly played the liar's game before. Those sharp eyes catalogued the slight fluttering tension in a beat. In response her fists clenched and the black of her pupils slowly began oozing out to coat iris and sclera, until like the gods of old her eyes were two obsidian holes in her fine face.

She had taken from the Cauldron. Azriel’s most grave fear, conveyed mind to mind, confirmed.

Mother save them all. 

*

    Even as his self-preservation screamed at him, to fight, to flee, the ribbon between them sung because..

.....because she was looking at him.

He wanted to swim in pools of eternal death, to bask in the creeping rot until he was but molecules. Molecules of a male, floating, drowning, dreaming in her.

‘So it is you who taints her ribbon of gold with decay, who has forged a chain of darkness to tie you to each other. Did you think you could get away with that?I could smell it on you. On her. Polluting the atmosphere with its wrongness.’

A predator on the hunt she rose from her seat to circle the desk, leaning in until he felt the sharp press of her nails against his throat as she squeezed her hands around his neck.

He caught the moan of ecstasy that carried from deep within.

Beautiful.

Vicious.

Witch.

His.

She had to be. He was hers.

*

    Would she mark him with a cut if he begged?

Let red drip onto her fingers, stain them. Hope that some of it might seep into her skin, so he could be part of her, so that his darkness could rest easy amidst silver death.

His eyes fluttered, fighting to stay open and not submit to the scratching loveliness of her touch.

‘I will ask once more and then I will not again. What have you done to my sister?’

Her hands tightened for a second before loosening to let him reply,

‘What will you do if I do not answer Lady Archeron?’

He taunted.

He leaned into her, even as she recoiled, hands retreating to hidden pockets in her skirts.

In the icy absence of her touch, some form of sobriety presented itself.

From the simple cotton confines her right hand rose wordlessly and she held a clenched fist before him. He stretched his palm out to receive the silent offering.

A grey acorn dropped, scattering into ashes upon contact.

Her left hand braced on the arm of his chair so eye contact was unavoidable. She craved his fear, to see it surface in the violet gleam of his gaze, he reckoned.

He craved things far more precious than fear from her.

The dust marked his palm, etched itself between crevice and wrinkle, as she whispered calmly,

‘I did this on the way in. I felt the surge of life that it held. What would have been an ageless oak in the garden of the fae-scum that reside here. I felt life and I pulled. I pulled all that could be from it.'

She bared her teeth in a horrifying facsimile of a smile and hissed,

‘Ashes, ashes, we all fall down.’

An old ditty from some human plague.

He steadied himself, searched for the spine he was fairly certain she had not ripped from him yet.

‘I am no acorn, Nesta.’

‘No. But when I scatter your dust along the Sidra who will be able to tell the difference?’

There was a beat of silence.

She had a point.

Nesta tilted her head, tapping her foot in anticipation of an explanation.

‘Do your human tales mention the Weaver?’

She scrunched her fine arched brows before stating in a distant voice,

‘A Witch of Waste and Middle... who threads the tapestry of fate.’

‘Clever little thing aren’t you?’

Her eyes flashed.

‘Clever enough to know to mind my manners when someone could turn me to dust.’

His lovely mate, all bark and bite.

‘Touchy, touchy.’

He sniped but when she snarled and her hands started to glow silver, he held up his own in surrender.

It wouldn’t do for her to kill him before she had a chance to fall in love with him. With this in mind he spoke carefully,

‘I made a bargain. A fiddly thing they are, love. Like thread, so many loops to be found. Dangerous business to mess with loops and the Weaver. Only the brave or foolish do so.’

In a voice drier than the sands of Day she retorted,

‘A tragedy then that you are both.’

A small laugh burst from the rising corners of his mouth. It was his true laugh, high and cold and utterly inhuman, not the warm gravelly one he created to enchant the Saviour.

‘You flatter me.’

She did. She flattered him every second she spent in his company.

He wondered did she find him pretty? Did she admire the sharp angle of his jaw, the sheen of his hair, the lean muscle of his frame?

‘I’ll flatten you if you don’t get to the point.’

‘A bargain with the Weaver to alter the bonds. Break and remake.’

Feyre’s bond to Cassian now a fraying string, a red primrose strangled by bindweed. A new one built of night and darkness and Winter’s blood. Nesta released a strangled scream, storming to the other end of the room as hot blush painted her cheeks and the pieces clicked together.

‘Oh you heinous piece of shit. You didn’t just break whatever bond she had, you tied her to you.’

A simple plan. Bond with the most powerful fae in Prythian. On the infinitesimal chance his mate appeared he would kill them. So simple and yet…

He had miscalculated.

A rare occurrence.

A fatal mistake.

He could not kill this creature of mercury and boiling burning anger, whose blood was dripping from clenched fists onto the well tufted carpet.

She had no such qualms however.

‘I’m going to murder you.’

Vow uttered she prowled towards him, stopped in her tracks as his low warning reached her.

‘I really wouldn’t recommend that if you value your sister.’

‘Is that a threat, you fucking monster?’

She thought him a monster. Strange for it to hurt so, an apt descriptor, one he had revelled in now sat heavy in his chest coming from her.

‘I’d prefer you think of it as sound advice. How about a deal?’

She scoffed, her disgust apparent.

‘Now why would I make a deal when I could just kill you before you hurt my sister or anyone else?’

True fear laced his voice as he responded,

‘Because your sister’s life is tied to mine.’

And only the Mother knew what possessed him to attempt to lighten the mood after such a confession.

‘I do so like a bargain.’

Nesta recoiled in horror.

‘Your lives are tied. What would possess Feyre…’

She trailed off. The answer hung in the air between them but he vocalised it all the same,

‘Love.’

There was no glee in Rhysand saying such a thing. Feyre’s love, adoring and fragile, still young and wild, a toy he’d played with for his own amusement, would eliminate whatever slim chance he had with Nesta.

His best laid plans would soon be his ruination. His heart could not be ignored, nor the screaming writhing bond that made his ribs ache. He had to salvage something from the wreckage of his greed and ambition.

‘Stay in the Night Court and I’ll break the false bond with your sister.’

‘I’d sooner drown myself in your river than vow to stay in this court under your rule, to be used for whatever evil you concoct next.’

‘A century. Stay here a century and Feyre can go where she pleases, free from the bond. I’ll fund her travels and comfort.’

Nesta let out a derisive snort.

‘Oh that is a given. She is the Saviour of you and your rotten kind. You fooled my sister and you brought myself and Elain into this mess with your carelessness and arrogance.’

She shook her head sadly.

'And a century? Not a chance.’

‘Need I remind you, you are one of my rotten kind now. Fifty years.’

The sharp intake of breath from her was all he got as she turned her back on him and did not deign to answer. No hostile party had ever turned left back open to him before. It pleased him that he did not frighten her.

Silver linings to cling to, as like ice melting, she sought to slip from grasping fingers.

‘Twenty and you live in the Townhouse and work under my employ.’

‘So you can exploit my powers? So I have to suffer your miserable presence?’

So he could see her face each day. So other Courts would cower before them. So he could offer her the world if she asked.

‘Consider Rhysand that if I figure out how to get to the Weaver myself I will fashion my own bargain with her.’

He was bombarded with different horrifying visions of Nesta. Hanging from one of the great oak trees that grew in the Middle, the Weaver hacking off limbs from her corpse to make wax and soup, her bronze hair matted with blood as her skull cracked like a runny egg, leaking all she was onto damp grass. Nesta with her newly burgeoning power was too weak yet for the Witch of the Middle. A dread settled in his bones and panic eroded his voice so it left his chapped lips in a rasp,

‘No.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Please... just five years. You will stay in the Townhouse and your time is your own.’

He held no cards, not at her own unwitting threat to her safety. She seemed to sense it, the gambler’s instinct gleaming in the twinkle of her eye.

‘Three years. I will live in Velaris independently on the condition you break the tainted mess that connects you and Feyre before the year end.’

He went to agree and was stopped by her voice continuing a pitch lower and finely sharpened like a dagger.

‘If not I will leave and make it my mission to take your court apart brick by fae-damned brick.’

*

    Three years.

He was glad the bond hadn’t snapped for her yet so she did not know a bargain was unnecessary. He would throw himself off Ramiel to make her smile.

Three years to convince her he was a male she could love. Three years to earn Feyre’s forgiveness and qualify for Nesta’s consideration.

Three years.

A blink of an eye, especially when he had no clue how to break a bargain with the Weaver.

But Rhysand had faced worse.

He extended his hand.

At the very least he could touch her, feel the soft skin of her pale hand meet his, at least once more, relish in the sparks that flew and the marks they’d share.

There were silver linings after all.

[darylsfavoritegirl]

this is sequel to one of my very first fics here which was requested by @kissmeunicornbaobei

so make sure to read that one first!!

Summary: So they finally convince to take this girl into the prison, not much is happening just some grumpy daryl and a sassy y/n lol

A/n: i've been reading fanfics here for quite a while now though my first fanfic was a first narration fic and the second one was "y/n" but it's not "you" pronouns it's literally "she/her"... i tried to reduce using y/n cuz it sounds ear-grating when you don't use it with "you" soooo don't mind it!! i'm still an amateur :))

Warnings: bruising because of daryl's harsh grip on y/n's arm lol, also idek if its because i love me some sexual tension between strangers, there are some "accidental" grindings and them touching eachother without meaning to soo

Y/n could hear their muffled conversation as she was ambling away to the other direction. She was wending her way rather slowly, blood rushing to her cheeks everytime she contemplated her odds out in the wilderness where one couldn't have a better chance of surviving all alone.

She debated the worst possible scenerio inside of her head. Her body started to tremble lightly due to her self-pity. She pulled her drenched hair aside, breathing out at the sultry feeling.

The heat wave hitting the side of her posture were rushing from the woods. She halted suddenly as she could swore her body was evaporating like a machine off of factory.

She exhaled exasperatedly when she put down her backpack on the ground and kneelt beside. She took her leather jacket off, her arms soaked in sweat. She lifted her head to two men as she coughed softly. They turned to her stopping, eyeing her down.

"Fuckin' punks." She shook her head as she grabbed a tin can out of her bag that was designed for liquor, uncorking it. She could get a whiff of the algae-infested odour and even take a peek at it. She shaked the can over her mouth, a few water droplets sliding down her tongue.

"Ugh." She grimaced as she tossed it to the ground. She had no water and she didn't know where she could find some. She wiped the sweat beading her forehead with her wrists and screwed her eyes shut to prevent herself from weeping as those men were observing her. She could feel her cheeks burning under the heat as she sat down in the same position, still.

Her ears caught the attention of delicate footsteps drawing near her, one of them must be approaching me; she got hot inside of her head.

She raised her head as her fingers shifted to her neck, scratching it lightly. She felt the dampness of her hair on her hand and a sense of repulsion washed all over her at the feeling. One of her eyes were shut tightly because of the blazing sunshine. Her hand shifted to her forehead, shielding the sunshine as she pressed her lips together.

"What now?" She hissed as she gained strength from the burning ground with her palms, knee and got up, facing Rick. She avoided eye contact and leered at the woods with crossed arms

Rick narrowed his eyes at her, his annoyance growing thicker with her attitude.

"This is my last offering." He stated, squinting his eyes at her as if to force her to look at him in the eyes.

Y/n's eyes caught his piercing gaze as she remained indifferent.

"Now, you ain't gonna survive out here 'till you find a clean water source." He huffed, gazing at the woods with an exaggerated manner.

"Which is very unlikely." He remarked, shifting his gaze at hers. A vague smirk appearing on his face.

Y/n observed him and Daryl behind.

"I say let 'er do whatever she damn pleases." Daryl snapped airily as he sensed her judgemental glares and unpleasant body language.

He came closer, his eyes scanning Y/n the entire time. Even when he came next to Rick, he didn't take his eyes off of her. Daryl had placed his crossbow on his hands.

All of them exchanged hesitant glances. Y/n could feel her heart pounding on her ears as she tried to maintain her heaving chest.

"C'mon. Let's go." Daryl uttered low, grabbing Rick by the shoulder lightly, patting it two times swiftly as he turned around. A look of disinterest flickered across his face, feeling bummed out with her attitude towards their efforts of helping her. Rick stayed put. Daryl sighed audibly as he turned the other way around to face the two of them.

"Look, if she wanna go and die by herself. Fine." Daryl barked, becoming enraged with both of them.

"Ain't my problem." He added low, his eyes fixated on Rick.

Rick leered at him, trying to convey a message with his eyes and turned to Y/n when she spoke.

"I'll come with you." She said in a rush, her chin up as she wasn't looking neither of them in the eyes.

Daryl and Rick exchanged subtle glances with lowered eyelids. They finally broke her, scraped off the persuasion and bullheadedness.

A few minutes passed like years when all of them approached a red sedan with dirty windows, smeared muds half dried.

Y/n glanced at Daryl and Rick from the corner of her eyes as she reached out her hand to the door handle.

"Do you have more belongings from where you come?" Rick asked, interruping her action with furrowed brows owing to the sunshine obstructing a clear view. She looked at him, not taking the strands of hair infront of her face and shook her head. She felt Daryl leering at both of them on her shoulders and swiftly turned on her tiptoes. Daryl wasn't paying any attention to her as if she was a graveghost. His eyes were locked on Rick's and Y/n turned her head slightly to the side and saw Rick nodding.

She felt her heart skipping a beat as she glimpsed back and forth between the two. She remained silent as her lips twitched for a hot minute. Her hands met behind her back, close to her hips as she attempted to appear at ease.

Y/n peeked at Rick's hand reaching his back pocket on his jeans. She exhaled vaguely. She eyeballed Daryl without moving her head at all and shifted her hand near her pistol case. If anything were to unfold at that moment, she was helpless more than ever. She couldn't take out two men, not while being stuck between two of them.

She felt her palm sweating and trembling. She peered both of them back and forth without blinking an eye. She was inhaling from her mouth, seeking to be as plain as possible.

Daryl looked at her, eyeing her up and down as he took a few steps forward and grabbed the handcuffs that was thrown to him by Rick.

She froze, shrugging her shoulder as she withdrew her hand to her side. She couldn't help but let out a frustrated chuckle.

"You gonna handcuff me now?" She fumed with the last bits of energy left in her body.

Daryl remained apathetic and moved forward towards her. His irritation towards her was evident. One could detect it just by glancing at those stern eyes of his.

Y/n didn't shift her position. Her mouth was slightly ajar with a hollow look bearing her eyes. She developed a small hunch with the weight of her backpack and the startlement caused by their abrupt decision.

She chuckled nervously as she stared Rick, trying to convince him otherwise with her absent-minded gaze. Though it was vain, he was the one to throw the handcuffs first after all.

She shifted her eyes to Daryl who was standing only a few inches from her.

"You still think I'm a threat?" She uttered in disbelief, regaining a better posture as she processed the gravity of the situation.

"In a damn ride, hell yeah." Daryl insisted, smugness features dancing on his face to dictate they were the superior in that exact moment.

"It's for precaution." Rick declared, his hands were on his hips as he rested his body weight on his left leg. His gestures and body language were indicating a huge inattentiveness, already unengaged with the entire hustle.

Y/n sighed, unwilling to resent as Daryl grabbed her by the biceps with an unyielding clutch.

She shook her arm to free herself while glancing at him with an intense glare. She turned around and leaned against the car as her backpack slided off her arms.

Daryl came closer and gripped her wrists firmly. Y/n sighed exasperatedly at the flamey feeling of the car against her bare skin. Her upper torso was bent over slightly so that Daryl could handcuff her. She rolled her eyes and heaved a sigh as she ducked her head, leaning it on the car while feeling Daryl's jeans brushing against her bare legs.

"Is this really necessary?" She spoke tall, placing her chin on the car with fatigued, barely opened eyes; causing Rick to lift his head at their direction.

"It 's with ya." Daryl grunted behind her ear as he let go off his obstinate clutch and yanked the handcuffs to check incase of something unfolding that could catch them off guard.

She winced softly at the pain of metal hitting her skin as she eyeballed Daryl from the corner of her eyes with furrowed brows. She straightened her back and shook her arms lightly as Rick opened the door for her.

His eyes followed her gaze in an apologetic way, indicating that it wasn't personal. She tried to get seated in the car clumsily due to falling out of kilter with her hands combined with a handcuff behind her ass.

Rick closed the door, leering at her through the dirty car window as he sat on the driver's seat. Y/n looked down at the window crank that seemed to have been replaced for an automatic one. There was no way she could open it with her hands.

Y/n's eyes met with Rick's on the rear-view mirror. Rick figured out her struggle right away as he opened the passenger's seat window by the crank and mumbled to Daryl who was standing infront of the door.

"Daryl."

Y/n spotted his head gesturing backward at her as he started the car. Daryl tossed his crossbow on the passenger seat as he moved next to the backseat door and opened it.

Daryl got inside of the car and placed his fist on the backseat, the seat dipping under his weight as he moved his body close to hers and reached out to open the window manually.

Y/n leaned back to the seat in a rush, a sensation of being exposed washed all over her followed by the feeling under an abnormal threat towards his body. She found herself being unsure of the appropriate course of action. She sat down there in a peculiar silence, being lost with words to utter and actions to take.

The actuality of her hands being strapped behind her -now starting to hurt- didn't make the situation better. She thought, she could embrace her arms around her or inspect her nails instead of leaning back stiffly as all her view was Daryl and the odd chaining sensations of defenselessness.

Blood rushing to her cheeks rosed them with abashment. She was feeling like a highschooler infront of a guy she had a huge crush on, once again, though that phase ended some time ago and the new world order didn't resemble anything in the past.

Daryl's hand grazed her soft thighs as he pulled himself away. He didn't seem to mind nor notice. She heard him grunting "Virginia summer." under his breath to Rick as he got out of the car and sat on the passenger seat.

Y/n felt as if getting back to life with her steady breaths and leaned-forward posture. She loathed at the thought of her weakness towards him when he didn't seem to be bothered at all.

She sensed her body functioning the way they should at once when the engines started. She slowly swallowed her dry spit and found herself leering at the back of Daryl's head when her eyes met with Rick on the rear-view mirror and she halted with the piercing gaze through Daryl.

The dust particles and the stimulating breeze were merged with eachother in the sickening heat of the air. She licked her lips and started observing the walkers that they were passing by.

She squinted her eyes now and then, having nothing at her hands to prevent dust particles and her own hair getting into her eyes, causing them to water and burn.

The ride went on like this with the offbeat silence when she heard another grunt from Daryl. She was pulled back to Earth with his voice, turning her weary eyes to him.

"Here." He uttered with a grey bottle of water in his hand, reaching it out to her. His eyes remained on the road for a second or so and then shifted to her.

"Ya ain't had water in a good while now."

"God knows how long." He assumed while some of the water droplets spilled down the center console of the car due to poor, gravel roads.

Y/n peered back and forth between him and the water bottle with self-sorry going through her veins. She hopped on her ass to sideways to come the center of the seat as if she was bouncing on a ballon.

She leaned forward, her neck going even further so that her mouth could get a good grip around the water bottle. The water bottle shaking and spilling water everywhere didn't make the situation any better. She, once again, felt self-sorry washing all over her like lightenings off of a feral storm. She creased her brows at Daryl when he extended the water bottle further.

Daryl's grip and stance got firmer to make it easier for her to drink it, though it was helpless; water started running down her chins to her thighs and t-shirt. She kept drinking the water, not knowing where to lock her gaze on. Her eyes met with Daryl's eyes observing her lips cautiously. He, then, shifted his gaze on hers and shook his eyes lightly, making the situation even awkward.

Y/n looked down at the water droplets on her t-shirt when Daryl pulled the water bottle away and as she raised her head to make an eye contact with him, he inquired.

"Wan' sum more?"

She nodded her head as she reached a bit further and started gulping down the water as an odd eye contact formed itself between the two of them. Funny was the new world, a redneck stranger feeding her with water. He darted away his eyes to Rick as he started driving the car slower so that she wouldn't choke on water.

He withdrew the water bottle, placing it in the backpack laying on the front of his legs. Y/n leaned back as the wind blowing at her face dried off the water on her chin and left the neckline of her tanktop damp.

She made out the reason why neither of them were saying a word to eachother was due to her presence in the car. She was astounded that they didn't even bother to blindfold her. Her suspicion grew thicker as they were in the car for 20-25 minutes long.

The car halted infront of a prison with a big yard.

"This explains the handcuffs." She complained under her breath as Rick and Daryl stepped out of the car.

Y/n felt her chest heaving for a hot second when her eyes spotted Daryl approaching near the car door and opening it.

She leered at him with narrowed eyes owing to the blazing sunshine obstructing her view behind Daryl's head. He didn't say a word as he leaned infront of her and grabbed the backpack that was sitting on the dirty rags covering the floor.

He mumbled something to Rick as he slunged the backpack filled with guns and magazines. He eyeballed y/n with an uninterested glare as he gripped her from her left forearm and yanked it.

"C'mon." Daryl uttered as he clutched his crossbow and scanned the area incase of a walker in the perimeter attacking them.

"I can't do anything within your walls." She huffed, scrutinizing the people glaring at the three of them. Everybody stopped what they were doing at that moment to gaze at them intensely. There was a big garden and a small fence with a few pigs wandering inside. An old man who was an amputee walking along with an asian boy closed the distance between them and the fence.

The old man approached the fence even closer and put his left hand on it as he held his crutches on one hand. Y/n rejected glaring at him, following unwritten morals even in that moment.

Daryl walked toward the gate, still gripping her arm; not paying attention to his harsh grip. Y/n turned her head around to see Rick looking at her. She tilted her head lightly, an undertone of apologeticness and annoyance flickering across her eyes, she halted while doing so when Daryl drew her towards himself roughly, causing Y/n to bump into him as if to fall down.

She regained her balance, glancing up at Daryl.

"Watch where yer goin' ." He scowled, looking at her up and down as if she was the one at fault.

"I would if you-" She complained, only to be interrupted by his words to a small kid with a cowboy hat.

"Help yer old man." Daryl uttered casually, not looking at the kid as he pulled her by the biceps to get her walk behind him. His eyes sternly fixated on the second gate, a road that seemed endless with a slight hilly.

Y/n peered down at her biceps, seeing Daryl's knuckles whitening. She took a deep breath, her hair dancing in the air as he walked aggressively, y/n having to follow his steps.

"I'm not some kind of a cage animal you asshole." She hissed loud, her brows furrowed out of anguish.

She endeavored to free herself from his rough clutch, whimpering quietly under her breath. Her face started to cramp owing to the faces she made, aiming to get him let her arm go.

He kept the distance between them as he opened the second gate with a set of keys that was hanging on his belt.

"That's it." She fumed, shaking her arm furiously with all her power. She freed herself from his grip, glimpsing down at her biceps and seeing it bruise slightly.

His eyes caught hers as he moved forward swiftly and yanked her by the forearm, this time not so harshly.

"Those handcuffs ain't comin' off 'till Rick decides what he's gon' do wit' ya." He spoke low, walking past the gate with her besides him. The attention on them grew denser. People not even trying to conceal their inquisitive eyes with shovels and bowls on their hands, stopping in the midst of their daily errands under the wrathing sun.

"He was the one willin' ta take ya in, anyhow." He grunted, finally halting in the center of the concrete yard surrounded by poorly situated prison buildings, watch towers and many more.

"So, you're like his bitch?" She teased, aiming to enrage him. To her thought, he couldn't act out infront of all these people, some looking rather sensible.

Daryl spun his head to her, not minding the curious eyes and the whispers that the wind carried all the way to them.

"I ain't nobody's bitch." He hoarsed inside of his mouth, leering at Rick coming from behind who was joking with the little kid with loud chuckles.

He turned his gaze back at her. A wide grin was bearing her face with her left brow arched.

"Hmmm." She mocked, swaying her body softly without realizing as Daryl gradually let go off her arm when Rick started talking.

".... Now we got a new survivor." He added to the words neither y/n and Daryl decided to tune in.

"She isn't gonna stay in the cellblocks for now. For precaution." He remarked, turning to her and slightly raising his right hand to her, indicating it wasn't personal.

She shrugged her shoulders at his words, being extremely disinterested until Rick uttered his final words to the crowd surrounding them.

"Get used to it, people." He peeked at the kid next to him and sniggered as he placed his hand on his shoulder.

Daryl was a few inches behind y/n when her attention fixated on Rick walking into one of the buildings.

"Hey." She uttered, taking an attentive step.

"Tell your henchman to uncuff me." She narrowed her eyes after observing some people grinning slyly while others seemed taken aback.

A subtle smirk tugged on her lips when she begged.

"Please."

Rick's eyes shifted an inch or so to Daryl and nodded his head softly. She turned her head aswell, aspiring to see an unsettled and incensed Daryl only to not.

Her smirk vanished subtly, though she aimed to not make it evident when Daryl came close her from the behind and yanked the handcuffs.

She didn't try to look at him uncuffing her hands owing to the fact that she felt ludicrous. An odd minute passed when she felt the alleviating sense of free wrists and drew them to herself to massage them.

Daryl scanned her with a penetrating stare as he dropped the bag on the ground cautiously. He shifted his gaze to the gate and started ambling.

A blonde girl with a baby in her hands started approaching toward her when she scrutinized the area with a blank stare.

footnote

praying that you understand the sexual tension between daryl and her while he handcuffs her and feeds her on water while she cant use her hands🙏

let me know what yall think!!!

[astarionfreak]

10 w shart and astarion. Uncommon pairing but it could be interesting??????

Immediately yes. Big yes. Thank you !! This was supposed to be way shorter and way smuttier but it spiraled out of control. Oops. 🖤🩸

10. "You don't have to stay the night. Just fuck me."

Snippet for the smut ask game. | Other answers here

One foolish move in the heat of battle and everyone knew the truth. That Astarion was a vampire.

They took it . . . surprisingly well, actually. Gale warned him not to bite (as if), Lae'zel threatened his life -- but Shadowheart, well. The cleric had been kind -- or stupid -- enough to offer her blood. What kind of vampire would Astarion be if he turned down a free meal?

Besides, even though her attacks seemed to miss more often than not, her healing spells had proven to be quite the asset. If she'd allow him a taste from her delicate veins, perhaps she would also be willing to remain at his side when he faced Cazador. This little exchange could be well worth his time. If he played his cards right.

Astarion waited until the others were asleep before he made his way through camp to Shadowheart's tent. He had been so sure of himself just moments ago, but now he hesitated as he reached for the flap. Maybe this was a bad idea after all.

There was still time to turn around -- hunting in these woods was miserable, but he usually had some level of success. He'd eaten worse things than boar. He'd been hungrier for longer too.

Astarion shuffled his feet as he started to turn around, making more noise than intended. Shadowheart must have heard him. Her heartbeat quickened. Astarion's mouth began to water at theb mere thought of the promise she'd made.

Shit. He really was going to do this wasn't he? He put on his best smile and ducked into her tent.

Shadowheart sat up on her forearms. Perfect body laid out in front of him. For him.

His eyes went to her neck, the gentle movement of her pulse just beneath her tender flesh. Then his gaze dragged along her body, slowly drinking her in. Her camp clothes hugged her figure in all the right places.

"I was beginning to think you'd found a better offer," Shadowheart whispered.

"Ah. No." Astarion laughed quietly as he gracefully dropped to his knees in front of her. "Lae'zel already threatened my life twice today. I don't fancy my chances with Karlach at her current . . . temperature. And there is something distinctly wrong with Gale's blood. I got an unpleasant whiff during that fight with the spiders."

"Wyll, then?" Shadowheart sat up completely and pressed closer to Astarion. She smelled faintly of incense.

Astarion swallowed thickly. Trying to ignore the desire to forgo niceties and just sink his teeth into her throat. "As charming as I'm sure he finds me, I do believe I would be wasting my time trying to convince the Blade of Frontiers to offer himself up to a vampire."

"And here I was, believing I was special when all the while I was merely a last resort," Shadowheart said.

Astarion found it difficult to tell how much of what she said was her searching for the truth and how much was just meant to tease.

"Darling," he purred. "You are anything but a last resort. Surely you're well aware of your allure." Astarion placed a hand on her shoulder, when she didn't flinch or pull away, he pushed her onto her back and settled himself on top of her.

Shadowheart's heart was positively racing. Her eyes blew wide with desire. Her breath caught in her throat when she spoke. "I'm only joking, Astarion. You don't need to use that voice on me."

"What voice?" Astarion asked playfully, slotting a leg between her thighs. This was almost too easy, really. For a woman with so many secrets, she'd truly given herself away to him.

"You know precisely which voice I'm talking about." Shadowheart licked her lips, eyes searching his face.

Astarion pouted, staring down at her with a sly smile. "I can't say I do," he purred. "This is the only voice I have."

"Then just shut up and feed." Shadowheart rolled her eyes.

Astarion nestled his face in the curve he her neck, lips brushing over her throat as he spoke. "Are you comfortable? This may . . . hurt a little."

"I can handle pain. Do it, Astarion."

Astarion wasted no more time. His teeth sank into her neck with a faint pop. Blood rushed into his mouth.

He hardly had time to register the sound of her moan before the rest of the world faded away. Only her blood, her breath, her life remained. And she had chosen to share it with him. A precious gift.

Astarion had never tasted anything as perfect as this. As her. He drank in desperate, needy gulps. His hand instinctively cradeling her head as she writhed beneath him. Even through his blood-drunk gaze Astarion could taste her arousal.

Shadowheart grabbed his arm, fingers digging into his skin as he drank. Her hips jerked up, seeking contact with his thigh. He allowed her that much, let her rut against his body like a bitch in heat as he drank.

"Astarion." Shadowheart's grip on his arm tightened. She was struggling to catch her breath. "Astarion, that's enough."

Her words managed to reach him despite his euphoria. "Shit -- sorry, I -- I got carried away," Astarion said.

"Shut up and kiss me." Shadowheart grabbed the back of his head and pulled him down into a bruising kiss.

The blood on his lips and chin smeared on her face. Astarion only broke the kiss to lick at the mess on her lips.

"That was . . . unexpected," Astarion whispered, nipping at her lower lip.

"You're not really surprised, are you?" Shadowheart asked.

"I suppose not completely surprised. Though this isn't exactly what I pictured when you offered your blood." Astarion leaned back to study her face.

Is this what she wanted? Clearly. Is this what he wanted? Why not?

"How unfortunate. Your imagination must be severely lacking," Shadowheart teased.

"I promise I can be quite imaginative when it counts." Astarion ground his hips down, pressing his half-hard length against her thigh.

"Prove it," Shadowheart said.

They kissed again. Another bruising, needy kiss shared between two people who knew their futures were uncertain.

"And if the others wake to find me in your tent? I'm sure they'd have a lot to say on the topic," Astarion whispered against her lips.

Shadowheart huffed out an annoyed sigh. "You don't have to stay the night. It's best for both of us if you just fuck me and leave."

"Ah, when you put it like that it does sound like a rather good offer," Astarion purred. "Do try not to keep it down though. Let's give them something to gossip about tomorrow."

[chelleztjs18]

The Monsters Within (N.R) Pt. 1

Dark!FemReader! x Natasha Romanoff

Summary: You like Natasha and you are keeping her to yourself.

Warning: This is a Dark Fic. 18+, a lot of swearing words. Graphic and gore descriptions, kidnapping, mind manipulating / brainwashing, blood, death, violence, bone crushing, Stockholm Syndrome (Let me know if I miss anything)

A/n: Hello! It's me again with the first part! I'm excited for you to read it! Yaay! Like I said in the announcement, thank you @imdoingsortagay , @marvelwoman-sugarbaby and @honey-sweet-hiraeth for the support, patience, and brainstorming with me. Happy reading!

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

You were hiding in plain sight and your eyes were carefully lurking for your next victim. Some people walked around you until this one particular redhead caught your eyes, she was serving the table across yours. Her wavy medium red hair looks flawless and her voice sounds so alluring to you. When she passes by you, you can just get a faint whiff of her perfume, a mix of soothing and refreshing touches your senses. That was all it took for your wicked mind to come up with the idea of how her scent would smell if it collided with the blood in the air. You instantly got intrigued by her.

Since then, your focus was only on her. You learn more about her in your own way. It gives you a different kind of rush everytime you secretly follow her, especially to her home. Her life is like an open book in social media. The more information you get about her, the more you want her.

So here you are, in your basement sitting on your chair, waiting for her to wake up. Natasha slowly opens her eyes, the light feels sharp to her eyes despite how soft it is. Her mind ponders where she is, the all white room complete with glass walls around it.

“Well, hello, gorgeous.” She hears a soft voice and she turns her head to see the owner of the voice she heard, you.

“Who are you? Where am I?” She asks with a huge confusion mixed with gradually growing fear.

“You are in your room now at my place, Natasha. I have food and water for you on the table. There is a little bathroom in that corner you can use. I will take care of you from now on.” You explain calmly.

“What did you do to me? I was walking to my car and woke up here? How did you know my name?! I don't even know you!” Panic definitely rises in her. She quickly tries to open the door and she fails.

“I know enough about you.” Your five word answer rings an alarm in her mind.

“Get me out of here! HELP! SOMEBODY HELP!” She screams as she bangs her hands hard on the thick glass then tries to pull the locked door with all the energy she has. All she wants right now is to get away from you. Her heart drummed.

“Oh sweetheart, this basement is sound proof. Nobody will hear you. This basement was built for a reason, so save your pretty voice. I love it and I don’t want you to lose your voice, do you?”

Natasha’s heart beats faster, her stomach turns into a knot after she hears what you said. “Who are you? Why me?” She asks in a lower voice, subconsciously following what you told her yet almost breaking into a cry.

“Hmmm. You can call me y/n. Why you? I don’t know why, you are just so tempting for me in a very different way. The day I saw you, I was actually looking for my next one to kill—” 

“Please, don't kill me. Let me go. I won’t tell a soul, I promise. I beg you.” She begs desperately for her dear life the second she hears the disturbing word. Her chest feels tight from fear.

You stand up and walk closer to her, the corner of your lips curves up to a sinister smile. “ but I like you so I’m keeping you alive. Here, with me. You look even better when you beg, darling. Just don’t upset me or I’m gonna change my mind and you know what I meant by that.” compliments and a warning flows out at the same time in a stern tone as you look at her green eyes through the clear glass then you walk away, leaving her by herself there.

_____

A week has passed easily for you like usual but for Nat, it was a dreadful seven days. Her eyes are red from crying, her hands are sore from hitting the glass door multiple times, let alone her throat stings in every swallow and talking by now from screaming for help. You like how determined she is but you are very unamused by her non-stop attempts to get help or begging you to let her go.

You try to talk with her every time you bring her food but she refuses to engage in any conversation with you.

Surprisingly, you have patience with her. If she was someone else, she would probably be dead by now. You really like her and keeping her with you really fills the empty space in you despite her rejection of you.

"Let's get to know each other better, shall we? Come on, Nat. I'm not that bad." You ask in hope she will slowly open up and talk with you.

"I don't want to know about you! Just get me the fuck out of here!” Just like that, her voice escalated in volume with such exasperation as she slammed the chair to the glass with a great force coming from her. Unfortunately the chair had no chance against the thick glass and broke.

You didn’t even flinch from the impact and you reminded her calmly instead. “Be careful there, sweetie. I don’t want you to get hurt. I always thought some blood will look good on your pretty skin but not yours though, I prefer somebody else’s.” you take a sip of your ice tea as soon as you are done with your words.

“What do you want from me?! Just let me go!”

You let out an annoyed sigh, putting down your ice tea. “You need to start to listen to me. I want you. I’m keeping you, so I won’t let you go.”

“I will find a way to get out of here! And I will get your ass to jail, y/n!” She threatens followed by another hard bang to the glass from a kick.

“Alright, I’ll do the hard way, Nat.” you get up from your couch and walk to the stairs. "Where are you going? What did you mean you'll do the hard way?! Y/n! Y/n!!" Natasha gets silence from you.

Natasha fell asleep after hours of wondering what you meant with the hard way you mentioned.

"Nat! I'm home! Natasha!" You call her and call her again when you don't hear her respond. Your voice woke her up. Her eyes automatically caught at the two arms of the clock that showed 12.30 a.m.

She got out of the bed and searched for you only to find a terrifying view.

You drag a dead body of a random woman with multiple stab wounds through the back door, leaving a long trail of blood.

"Is she — dead? Oh my god! What did you do to her?! You killed her!" She asks you with a stunned expression. Natasha's eyes are rounded, her heart jumps up to her throat from the shocks she gets. The pit of her stomach fell, she is terrified with what she is looking at.

"Of course she's dead, sweetheart. She was so obnoxious. Her voice drove me crazy, the worst part was she kept talking and talking." You casually tell the thunderstruck woman while doing what you need to do.

You drag her to the part of the basement that's already all covered with white tarps then you walk away for a few minutes and come back, pushing in a claw footed bathtub to where Natasha can see it.

“I normally don’t do this here but I want you to see everything.” You add with a panting breathing from dragging the body and the tub.

Natasha watches you in terror and disgust. A little splash of blood on your face as you give her a mischievous smile. Your victim lays on the floor lifeless with more blood pooled. Her heart thudded, fear twisted her gut. “Why are you doing this?! You PSYCHO!” Nat screams hysterically.

“Why am I doing this? I want to show you and remember that this could be you, IF you try to run away or IF you don’t stop asking me to let you go, because I won’t.” You answer her without hesitation.

She watches where your bloody hands move. You hum a song as you wash your hands as if they are not covered in blood.

“Please, take the dead body away. I don’t want to see whatever you are going to do with it.” She begs.

You ignore her plea. “Perhaps, listening to some music can make you feel better, my dear?” You pull out a record and play it in a soft volume but enough for Natasha to hear it and notice that it’s her favorite song. Her eyebrows furrowed, trying to figure out if you do this on purpose. You stand in front of her, your eyes adoring her even though grimace looks clear on her face as she looks back at you. Tears fill her eyes.

“Every Wednesday after work, you always go to the record store. Love your music taste, by the way. I also love that you stay at home every Saturday even though you are pretty enough to pick up a dance partner at the club.” You slowly touch the glass pretending to rub her cheeks followed with a little chuckle.

Natasha quickly connects the dot from everything you just said. It disgusts her and pisses her off at the same time.

“You have been following me?! You are SICK!” A hateful shout comes out of her. “I was just keeping a watchful eye.” You shrug your shoulders then you turn around and walk away with no remorse. Only a few steps later, her words stop you.

“You are a MONSTER!!”

You turn around. You give her a look, your gaze moves slowly from head to toe. You chuckle a little, even shake your head a little. You are not gonna lie, you feel a little…bothered, that the woman you admire calls you a monster. You take a deep breath, gather yourself shortly before you return her deep remark at you.

“Oh Natasha, everybody is a monster in their own way. I can see that we are the same exact ones, maybe that’s why I like you…so much.”

“NO! I’m not! I’m not like you! You are one sick fucking monster!” Natasha denies wholeheartedly. “Oh you are, Nat. You are. Now, watch and learn. You’ll need it someday.” You let out a chuckle and proceed to where the body is. Natasha shows her refusal by turning her back.

“I can find people you love very easily, Nat. Don’t make me go and get them. Turn around and watch everything.” You command her with a threat. It feels like a hard slam in her gut when your threat forces its way to be heard. She closes her eyes and clenches her fists at the same time. Her breathing quickened and her heartbeat doubled in speed. With a heavy heart, she follows what you want and turns. Forcing her eyes open to watch what you are doing.

Dragging sounds follow right after every step you take. Horror-stricken, she stares at you with frightened eyes. She closes her eyes right after she sees you start to pick up the lifeless woman that’s drenched with blood by now. Natasha flinches as soon as she hears a loud thud sound and it makes her open her eyes again only to find the dead victim in the tub and one of her hands is hanging out of it, blood slowly dripping one drop after another from the fingers..

“Okay, Natasha. This is why I put the tarp around so the blood won’t go everywhere, plus it’s easier to clean. You can just pull everything away when you are done and burn it.” You casually explain to her then you shove the bloody hand back into the tub. The smell of blood starts to roam free in the air and fill up the room. You take a deep breath. “Do you smell that, darling? Smells like victory and power. It makes you feel that you have someone’s life in your hand. You’ll understand that someday.” You patch a satisfied smile.

The more of the smell evokes her senses the more Nat wants to scream. She turns her head away from you.

“Ah ah ah. Look at me here. I want to show you the next thing to do to get rid of the dead bodies.” Your erie command reminds her of your previous threat, forcing her one more time to avert her eyes to you. You love how you slowly have control over Natasha.

“We have to dissolve the body with acid, it usually takes two days or so. It doesn’t smell like anything.” You speak as you take a few jugs of acid and pour it into the tub. “Oh Natty, I wish you could see how blisters start to show up on the skin from the acid.” A sinister giggle escapes as you tell her what’s happening. You feel a rush of blood go all over your body, giving you excitement.

“Stop. Please stop talking.” Her head hangs low as she begs under her breath. “James helps me every now and then.” a new name floats out of your lips. She hears you snap your finger and loud heavy footsteps echoes.

A big tall man gets caught in her field of sight. His expression looks cold as he pushes the bath away to another room with no question asked.

You wash your hands again, smudge of blood on your clothes but it doesn’t bother you at all. What you are doing next lures her curiosity more. Her mind questions what machine you just reached. Her eyebrows furrow when she sees James bring back a quite large clear bag filled with bones and put it next to the electric saw and bone grinder machine.

She hopes that it’s not what she thinks it is but too bad it was indeed bones. Natasha instantly recoils in horror once you turn on the machine and cuts the bone in half. “This is what the bones look like after the acid dissolves everything for two days. So–” Natasha’s words didn’t let you finish yours.

“That’s… Those are the bones from— from another dead person?” She stuttered, swallowed the lump of fear in the back of her throat.

“Oh, honey. Do you really want me to answer that? I’m sure you know what’s the answer.” You coo tauntingly, making her take a step back in revulsion.

You continue speaking as if it’s a usual thing for you. “So fingerprints are gone now, the next two things you need to get rid of are teeth and bone marrow. They can get you caught if the cops find them.” Your face is as serious as a teacher teaching her students.

You start to grind all the bones, piece by piece. Cracking and clattering sounds loud. Like it or not, Nat hears it loud and clear. “Now the teeth are gone. Last but not least, the bone marrow.” You look at her while you scrape it off the bone and put it in the bowl.

“Please, don’t tell me that you eat those.” Grimace creeps up on her face and her stomach churns.

“I’m just a killer, not a cannibal, love. I feed them to the dogs. They love it.” You stated.

Bitterness filled her mouth and she wanted to puke. She runs to the bathroom and barfs. “Don’t worry, Natasha. You’ll get used to it.” You reassure her unemotionally.

“Then James will spread the ashes to the ocean and cleans the rest. Voila! How to get rid of dead bodies 101. All done.” You proudly announce with a big smile. Natasha sniffs and looks at you standing in front of the glass room.

She storms to you and screams in front of your face with her fists slamming the glass that’s standing tall between the two of you. “Let me go! I will send you to hell, you evil!” Her pulse slammed in her neck.

“Sssshhhhh..” You put your index finger in front of your lips as you try to shush her. Weirdly, it subconsciously calms her down slowly but surely. Natasha starts to notice how you can put her in a huge wave of emotion yet you calm her down too. She doesn’t like how you can have control over her mind and emotion so easily. She hates it, she hates you. She takes another step back from you.

“Oh Sweet Natasha.. I AM hell.” Your bone chilling whispers slithers into her ear. With that, you walk away to the stairs. “Just keep it in that little mind of yours, that could be you.” You warn her one more time.

_____

It's been two months. You have been doing the same whole blood curdling process to your next victims in front of her every other day over and over on purpose, to get it into her mind. All she sees are your victims even when she closes her eyes. Those lifeless bodies that were forced to turn into ashes and dog food. All she hears is the sounds of the bones crushed and grinded. It drives her crazy. She can’t run away from all those views and sounds that haunt her every night. Natasha refuses to eat since your first gruesome warning. Her skin turns paler and paler. Until one day, she gets too weak and passes out. You have to admit, it got you all worried and all you want to do is take care of her. Luckily, you are a doctor, you know what to do.

“Please stop. Please.” A soft plea slips subconsciously, her head moves left and right slowly as if she is having a nightmare. Her eyelids slowly open, she blinks slowly. A weak whimper escapes her lips. You have been waiting for her to wake up, sitting next to her bed after you give her what she needs. Empty bags of IV and liquid food are hanging on the corner of the room.

She lays her hands on her head from the headache she feels. You can see from her movement that she feels so weak but her color has come back. Soon, she notices the band aid on the back of her hands from the IV needles earlier but her mind thinks it was from something else and panic starts to land on her. She feels your presence so close to her and her head turns quickly following her instinct. “Get away from me! What did you do to me?!”

“You passed out for quite a long time but you had enough IV to rehydrate you and liquid food to give you back your energy.” You answer with a relieved smile but it wasn’t enough to gain her trust back on you.

The weak woman in front of you gets off the bed suddenly despite how weak she is. She trips yet quickly crawls away from you to the corner. Your heart wrenched from seeing her like this. You didn’t want to make her like this but you know you had to, so she won’t run away from you. Oh the irony. You never feel like this before, you even think that you want to redeem yourself in front of her but still keep her under your control.

Her body curls up in the corner. Her knees are folded up to her chest, hugging them closer. Her body rocks back and forth. You walk slowly towards her. Your footsteps sound closer to her and it triggers her even worse reaction towards you. Your eyes search for hers but you fail miserably, she buries her face on to her knees. You can hear her muffled words. “Get away from me! Please! Stop everything!”

You crouch down to her level and her body flinches as your touch lands on her shoulder and she cries harder. She tries to move away as far as she can but the walls trap her.

“Ssshh.. It’s okay. I’m here. Don’t worry.” You try to hug her but she starts to fight you. Her hands try to push you away, to hit you or whatever she can do to you to prevent you from getting closer. “Don’t touch me! I don’t want you here!” Your strength defeats her and you wrap your arms around her.

She still tries to get out of your arms for a few seconds. “Please stop! I can’t take it anymore. I beg you.” She cries. You feel her body shake. 

The second you rub her back and rock her slowly and whisper “Sssh. Okay. Okay. Don’t worry, darling.” Natasha starts to calm down. Her cries start to fade and that makes you feel better. “I promise I won't ever try to escape ever, I won’t ask you to let me go either. Just please stop making me watch what you do to those bodies, to those bones. Please.” You feel her body start to get warmer and sweats trickle down her spine. Her tears soak your shirt.

“Good girl. That’s my good girl. I will stop doing it. Just don't ever leave me and do as I say, okay?” You confirmed. She nods in your hug. You love it when she even snuggles up more to you. Oh the things you would do for her and how far you would go on things only for her. You are obsessed with her, it’s not even funny. Natasha doesn’t know what is happening to her. She hates your touch yet it comforts her. The overwhelming feelings took her energy despite the IV and the food you gave her. You carry her to the bed. Part of her wants you to stay, the rest of her wants you not even an inch close to her. She hates everything that’s happening now but she hates the fact how one simple touch of a killer like you, let alone the hug can give her a whiplash of feelings and emotions by now. Her eyes are heavy the second her head lands on the pillow. You get back to your seat next to her bed. She sees you hold her hand, the hands that were covered with innocents’ blood. 

“Go to sleep, darling. You’ll feel better soon. I’ll be here. Sssh..” A whisper from you easily sends her to slumber as her eyes close slowly.

_____

The day after Natasha’s mental breakdown, she is quiet. Your plan worked. She doesn’t beg you to let her go anymore. From her eyes, you can see that she is traumatized and defeated. You feel less resentment from her against your presence. She eats the food you gave her. Just like you promised before, you didn’t bring any dead victims home nor make her watch you get rid of them.

Days turn to weeks and weeks lead to a month then two. Your effort to talk with her finally shows some progress. The unexpected solace she got from your touch and hugs crumbled her invisible wall from you. Both of you start to tell each other more about yourselves. Sometimes you even spend time with her in her glass room, talking about a lot of things. Sometimes you give her space and you sit outside.

One day, the conversation got a little deeper. You ask her about the past and what that is really going on with her life before you keep her to yourself..

“Well, I work three jobs so I can make enough money for me and to help my sister’s college fund.” She answers. “Yelena?” You ask.

“How did you–ugh why am I surprised that you know, you stalked me for crying out loud.” She ends her confusion with a sarcastic remark and an upset eye roll. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I had to. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to steal you away and you wouldn’t be here.” A mischievous smirk appears after your casual response.

“So, it must be hard for you to work three jobs.”

“It pays the bill and I can save extra money for myself too. I like all the jobs I have, except..” A frown quickly appears followed by a helpless sigh.

“Except what, Nat? Tell me.”

“Except, my boss at the restaurant. He’s a pervert asshole. His hands always get so touchy to me, I hate it.” It’s obvious to see that Nat really hates the mentioned man.

“Disgusting son of a bitch. Quit the job, Nat.” You demand dominantly. “I can’t. That job pays the highest compared to the other two. I need the money. I’m stuck. He threatened me that if I quit, he would give bad references to other restaurant owners he knows. He knows my landlord as well, he would easily tell him to kick us out. We have nowhere to go.” She looks down to the floor as she takes in a deep disappointed breath. She knows she should’ve quit no matter what but like it or not she has to stay.

Anger rush through all your body. Your lips pressed in a straight line. You bite the inside of your cheeks. Silence rapidly dominates the room. What you just heard from Natasha causes a huge ripples of jealousy in you. One of your hands clenched into a fist. No one can touch her, not even an inch or a gentle tap. She is yours only. You slowly sipped a drink while in deep thought. The silence is deafening until you say something that literally has a lot of meaning in it.

“Quit the job, Nat. I will take care of everything. Everything.”

_____

A scream with agony woke Natasha up. She knows it wasn't yours. It's a familiar male voice. "Aargh! Let me go! Who are you? What do you want from me?" The man rambles, his loud panting shows distress and pain.

"Oohhh Natty! I got a surprise for you." You call her with an excited sing-song tone and all giggling.

The noises and the commotion evaporate her sleepy state and she gets up to check what's happening. She quickly recognized the man with ease. It's her pervy boss.

"You want money? I will give you as much as you ask. Just let me go!" The wounded man pleads. Her heart drops when she sees him all wounded and has bad scratches. His clothes are ripped in some parts with both hands tied together in the front and his ankles are tied up as well, bruises and some blood shown around his lips and some part of his skin.

"Dreykov? Y/n? What are you doing? What did you do to him?" Bewildered, she questions you about his very existence right now kneeling in front of you.

The older heavy set man drags his gaze to where Natasha is and surely he soon recognizes her face.

“Natasha? Is that you? Do you know this crazy sadistic bitch? She dragged me around with her car! I don’t even know her. Help!” You can hear his voice sounds so scared for his life, you always love hearing the fear from your victim’s voice. You grab a wine bottle from the counter nearby and hit him, hard enough to give him pain but not deadly just yet.

“Shut up, you pig!” You yell at him, he fell down from the impact..so weak..and helpless. “Please, what did I do to you?” He asks once more, his curiosity demands answers from you.

“Y/n..” she calls you but it goes straight over your head.

You lean down and pull his head back by his hair. “Oh you didn’t do anything to me but you made her life horrible. You disgusting motherfucker. Nobody touched my sweet Natasha.” You answer him with gritted teeth. Guilty and realization appears on his face eventually. He knows what you meant despite his confusion. “Yeah, you know what you did, didn’t you?” You utter creepily.

“Y/n..”

“Yes, love?” you finally respond to her call. You light up a cigarette and hit a few puffs as if nothing crazy is going on right now.

“Why did you bring him here? Did you really drag him around with your car?!” She is close to done waiting for your answer as she asks you one more time with a panic tone. Deep down, she can’t believe that you found him. Fear quickly builds up in her, Natasha knows what would you do to him, how far and how bad you can be.

“Oh just for a few miles, Nat. Juuust enough to let him feel the pain and the burn on his skin.” you describe nonchalantly, your hand casually moves a gesture with a cigarette between your fingers. As much as you want to drag him to death like a lit cigarette, you think it’s too soon. You want the man to suffer a little more.

The dark haired man panting in fear and pain. You put the cig in your mouth as your left hand grabs a loaded revolver gun and pull the hammer back then point it at him. “What if you can kill this douchebag, Natty?” The click sound from the gun and your question send panic to Natasha and Dreykov in a split second.

“Y/n? No, I don’t want to kill him. I don’t want his blood getting on my hand! Let him go!”

“Please! Please! Don’t shoot me. I promise I won’t do anything to her anymore! I won’t say anything about this! Please! I beg you! I have a wife and a kid!” The Russian man begs for his dear life. The more you hear his voice, the angrier you get. His pleas didn’t help at all, it made the urge to kill him stronger.

“Y/n!” Natasha screams your name, trying to distract you as her hands hit the glass multiple times, frustratedly.

You chuckle a little while you ignore her. “Do you think telling me you have a wife and a kid will make me feel pity for you??!! It’s even fucking WORSE!” You push the gun’s barrel into his temple.

“Y/N! STOP IT!”

“OKAY OKAY! I’m sorry! PLEASE! PLEASE DON’T!” He trembles, his body shakes in terror from how close death is right now..

Screamings from all three of you overlap and quickly fill up the room but suddenly shattered with the much louder sound of a shot you pulled. Natasha flinched and her heart beat faster. She sees the man that she hates now screams in great pain on both his tied up hands. Blood is all over his hands after a bullet went through both of his palms. “That was for every time you touched her.”

All Nat can do right now is standing there. Helpless and can’t stop what you are doing to the older man. 

“Arrgh! You shot my hands! What the fuck!” He screams with agitation as he rolls around. “Get on your knees facing her!” You instruct him as the gun still points at him, this time it’s back to the direction of his head. Dreykov struggles to do as he’s told but finally manages to do so.

You can see his face gets all red from trying to handle the pain. You love it, this is what you want. “Nat, I can drag him into your room so you can kill him. Are you sure that you don't want to do it?”

He clenches his jaws, his breathing is faster than a sprinting runner. The satisfaction you have in seeing him suffer is priceless yet insatiable. “No! y/n! I don’t want to kill him!” She refuses angrily and turns around to avoid seeing Dreykov’s dead end fate.

Natasha is angry with herself and the conflicted feeling. Part of her, she loathes him wholeheartedly. Another part of her, she wants you to let him go. Then your offer caught her attention faster than it shouldn’t be.

“Will you love me if I kill this piece of shit for you, Nat?” Your question made her skin crawl but she turned to you anyway.

“I see that I caught your attention, sweetheart. I will do the dirty work for you if you are not ready to kill yet.” You give her a smirk. “Y/n, I’m not gonna kill anybody! Ever! I’m not LIKE YOU!” She denies it aggressively. Her voice turned raspy from screaming her lungs out.

"Okay then, how about…we play a little game? I will count to 5 and all you need to do is say the word STOP and I will let him go BUT… if you don't say the word until I'm done counting, I will blow his fucking head and off he goes to hell. Does that sound like fun? Hmmm?" Your gaze jumps around from the wounded weak Dreykov and Natasha back and forth, waiting for an answer.

"No. No. Please. I'm sorry for what I did to her. Just let me go." The man begged your forgiveness one more time, his hands shaking from the trauma that your bullet had brought and left a hole in his hands. Blood slowly flows out of the wound. His busted lips tremble.

“Ready? Remember, Natty. One..simple..rule.. Say the word STOP, not “Don’t kill him.” or “No.” or whatever other words you want to say. Don’t even bother calling my name either because it won’t stop me from turning his brain into a mush. It’s very easy. Say STOP. “ Natasha sees your remorseless face from the corner of her eyes while you are talking about your twisted game.

“And you, be nice to her. Beg her if you need to.” You whisper as your devilish knowing smirk turns into an ominous laugh. The tip of the gun gets closer to his forehead.

“5..” You count out loud.

“Why are you making me do this?!” Nat asks hysterically.

“4..”

“Romanoff!! Please don’t let her shoot me!” Dreykov desperately begs. The beads of sweat start to roll off his forehead. He tries to move his head away from the gun but you follow wherever it moves.

“I don’t want you to kill him, Y/n!” Natasha screams, she knows time is running out. She feels her mind is spinning. Her eyes flooded with tears of frustration.

“3..” Your voice sends the number out even louder.

“Natasha! I’m sorry! I’m sorry for everything! Just please say THE FUCKING WORD!” His voice breaks. He breathes faster from screaming his pleads out. Taking the air in so he can beg louder hoping it will wake Nat’s sense.

“I hate you! I hate you!” Natasha cries her anger out. She doesn’t even know who the words are for. She hits the glass as hard as she can, multiple times. Loud bangs echo in the room. The pain on her hands and the sting in her throat don’t even bother her anymore.

“2..tik tok Natasha.”

“ROMANOOOOF! I will give anything you want! Please let me live!!!! STOP! STOP!” Dark clouds of fear for his life forcing him to say the word himself even though he knows it won’t save his life.

She turns her back on you and Dreykov, she slides down weakly and starts crying. The coldness of the glass touches her back. She breaks down. “I can’t! I can’t do this anymore! Please, don’t push me! I don’t want to hear it!” Her hands turn cold and shaking. She covers her ears, her fingers start to pull her own hair. Her eyes are closed. Her knees weaken. She is terrified of herself! One easy word is so hard to get out of her lips. Her tongue refuses to form the word, no matter how hard she tries. Her heart drummed.

Adrenaline rush blasts all over your body, feeding the repulsive black hole in you. Every count pulls the tip of the gun barrel closer to him. His jaws are tightening. “Aarrrrgghh!” he screeches hopelessly, forced to accept his death sentence from you, or from Natasha, to be exact.

“1…” The metal sticks to the skin of his head, you push as hard as you can, it hurts him. He closes his eyes from his last anticipation.

“BANG!!!!” You shout in front of his face. You push a short hard jolt on his forehead with your gun at the same time you shout and make the man flinch. No triggers were pulled nor bullets blasted its deadly shells. You laugh maniacally. Obviously, you are poking fun out of his trepidation. Soon, Dreykov realizes that he is still alive, he opens his eyes.

“How does it feel to be helpless, huh?! That’s how you made her feel! You make her feel helpless, you disgusting bastard!” you asks in an eerie angry tone.

Natasha stands up and turns around. She can’t deny that disappointment sagged through her but of course she won’t admit that to herself. She still convinces herself that she didn’t say the word because she knows your game. She thinks that she didn’t say the key word because you won’t shoot him that soon because you want to torture him more but was it really the reason?

She is disgusted by herself. She remembers your face and your voice telling her that she is the same monster as you are. Her eyes rounded, her chest rising and falling from the intensity in the room and the war in her mind.

“Y/n, please put the gun down. You don’t have to kill him. I forgive him.” She lies. She lies to you and herself at the same time. She despises her lies but that’s the only way for her to trick her mind.

“Did you really, nat? Did you?” You know what’s going on in her head from what happened, you know your question bothers her. Waking up the unease feelings she tries to tame. Once again, Dreykov's voice brought her back from her daze.

“You fucking bitch!!!! You think you are cool playing with my mind and my life?!! Soon, my family will look for me and the cops will find you! You will rot in jail! And you, Natasha! You try to kill me by not saying the fucking word! I swear I will make your life and your sister’s life horrible as long as I want because I can! I will—” Trap in great terror of losing his life pushed Dreykov to the edge and furious. Forcing his rambling out followed by threats but another loud blasts break the sound barrier and the hot bullet forces its way through Dreykov's head. Natasha flinches from the sounds. Her ears ring from the gunshot blare.

In a split second, he falls back, lifeless. Blood stains splatter all over and drench his head. You didn’t allow him to finish once you heard him attack Natasha with his menacing words and when you heard Natasha cry her apology.

Her heart falls down to her stomach. “WHAT THE FUCK! Y/n!”

"Such a shame. I didn't want him to die that easy. I was gonna drown him alive in the acid. Oh well." You comment out your disappointment in a flat tone as you shrug your shoulders casually as if you didn't just kill another person.

"I didn't want you to kill him, y/n!" She exasperates.

"Then why didn't you say the word, Nat?"

And there it is, the ugly truth finally comes out. The one that she didn't want to hear. Like a slap in the face, it alarms her yet catches all of her words. She doesn't know what to say yet perhaps she knows the answer to your question.

"Yeah, that's what I thought." You mumble under your breath as you proceed to what you have to do next…to Dreykov's dead body.

Pt. 2

A/n: Welp, that's it for today! I hope you enjoy the intense rollercoaster ride! Let me know what you think. Reblog, comment and input are always appreciated. Follow me for more and see you in next!

Cheerio!

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[hypnotiiize]

𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞, 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐝, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐝

       𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩

𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐱𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫-𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐱 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬:  i LOOOOOVEUH writing for trent it puts me back in my wattpad bag. it’s funny TO ME ☝🏽 plus a little rival moment going on. and SHES BLACK ofc. but ima stop saying that the main character’s Black cause it’s a given w me and also i want ppl to feel shell-shocked like i do when i’m reading and suddenly it’s all “you blushed a deep red” “he ran his fingers through your fine hair” 

+ there’s a lot of marvel references in this one u gotta bear w me 

     Trent had no clue how she’d managed to do it: maneuver around him quietly, sit in plain sight seamlessly, spread the apparent word quickly. 

By the time he’d caught a whiff of the story she’d concocted, it was already too far gone, as it had spread something akin to wildfire. There had only been the four horrid, soul-crushing, gut-wrenching words that solidified what he was sure would count as a loss against him. 

“I met your fiancée.”

His eyebrows had furrowed. He’d tilted his head. He’d even decided, in that split second, that he couldn’t have possibly comprehended those words correctly.

“You met my what?” Trent asked as he fought to understand what the man must’ve said; what he assumed he had missed due to the absurdity of the supposed words.

The middle-aged man repeated his sentence with a wide, congratulatory grin, and Trent could hear nothing but the rush of blood in his ears, trickling down his spine to his feet and weighing him to the ground there. 

The rush, he realized quickly in his desire to stay afloat, sounded like the ocean. If he closed his eyes, he could find the turquoise water waving at him. He could look down and watch the ocean flow around his ankles, beckoning him to its tide, where he would eventually be swept up in its serenity. He could bend at his waist and dip a hand into the foam there; he could swirl his hand around and lift up a piece of salty-smelling seaweed.

But his eyes were wide open. 

And he was well aware that the ocean-sounding rush was, instead, more comparable to hysteria.

And when he looked down, he could only see a well-moisturized hand with a shiny engagement ring propped up on his arm. 

His brown eyes tracked the arm slowly– timidly– to the woman beside him, who had managed to cozy up to him as he was stuck in his reverie. His heart dropped: she was wearing a shirt just as red as the blood he could hear, and he was positive that if he turned her around, he would see his last name sprawled across her back and the large sixty-six just underneath that. 

He fought the urge to fall to the ground and kick his feet in every which way. 

The tranquility of the ocean’s crashing waves came to an abrupt stop. He was yanked back to Earth, his soul breathless as it slammed back into his hollow body. 

As he caught his breath unevenly, the woman– his twisted gender-bent version of Thanos– was saying to the middle-aged man, “Yeah, we’re, like, deep in love.”

“Aw, that’s so lovely,” replied the man, whose hand was pressed against his heart sincerely. “It’s just so nice to see young love.”

The woman nodded, tightening her hand on Trent’s arm affectionately. “Aw, yeah. Isn’t it?” 

There was a flash in which he recalled the comic books from his childhood, and not for the first time in his life, Trent yearned for the ability to teleport. If he could– if had been bitten by a radioactive spider or turned into a super soldier or born on another planet– he would be on the beach, watching the turquoise water wave at him and looking down to see it flow around his ankles. He thought that, perhaps, if he closed his eyes and regulated his breathing enough, the atoms would align perfectly and suddenly– so, so suddenly– he would feel the warmth of the Sun on his skin and the sand between his toes. 

Sunshine, sand, and seaweed.

When he opened his eyes, he was still on the football field. 

Fuck.

“He gets a little wistful when we talk about being together, y’know?” she was saying to the man, explaining Trent’s attempt to spontaneously combust into thin air. She emphasized her points with her free hand, her fingers pressed against the pad of her thumb as she added, “Since our love is just so real and palpable.”

“Wow. Love is beautiful,” replied the man, and Trent bit into the inside of his cheeks. “Engaged, though, wow. I didn’t even know Trent was with anybody!”

“Yeah. Private, but not secret. Isn’t that what they say, TT?” She squeezed his arm once more, angling her head as if she was going to place it on his shoulder. At the last moment, she left an inch between them as if she, too, did not want to be intimate in that way with him.

Trent exhaled harshly through flared nostrils.

“I respect that,” said the man as he nodded at them. “Wow. How long have you two kids been together?”

Trent could see her turn to him in his peripheral. There was a deafening ring somewhere within his head, bouncing off of the inside of his skull when he realized that something absolutely stupid and mildly comedic to only her was going to happen. 

He prayed for the beach. 

She hummed, feigning as if she was thinking before sighing softly. “Gee, I don’t know. It all just goes so fast when you’re so deep in love. Why, it’s,” her eyes lit up as she giggled and Trent knew something villainous was afoot, “It’s almost like it didn’t even happen. Isn’t it, my love?”

Trent contemplated spitting up on himself as the man before them smiled kindly at their supposed union. Trent supposed that if he was the man, he, too, would have smiled. The man was not at all privy to Trent’s loss of power in the dynamic. For the fact was, and thus it would remain: she had won that round.

Big time. 

Huge time.

He side-eyed the woman clinging to his arm. “It really didn’t happen,” he found his voice.

“I know, that’s so how it feels,” she added swiftly, well aware of the meaning Trent’s words had. She turned back to the gushing man before Trent could burst the carefully articulated bubble she’d blown. “But when you know, you know… You know?” 

The man chortled. “Oh trust me, I know.”

 “You know,” she joked like someone’s middle-aged mother, chuckling in a haughty way that Trent had never heard from her before in their months of being reluctant partners in– and he found this part ironic on account of her devious ways– crime. 

The world around him spun on its axis as he called for the beach once more. 

“Excuse me,” Trent said apologetically to the man as he wrapped his index finger and thumb around her wrist. He drew her closer to his body easily as he backed up. “Really sorry. I have to talk to, uh–”

“Your fiancée, silly,” she finished his sentence in a high-pitched voice, smacking her lips together and gesturing to Trent with her thumb as he tugged her away. “Ugh, this one’s so needy. Love him crazy, though. See you later, sir! And give my best to your wife!”

As Trent planted her back against the concrete wall that shielded them from onlookers, he questioned, briefly, if the superheroes that he fell in love with as a child had to face bad guys as annoying and disagreeable as the woman before him. He highly doubted it; he couldn’t fathom a villain having as much time on her hands as she did. He would have rathered be overtaken by the Green Goblin than some girl wearing a nameplate necklace and biker shorts. 

“How’d you get in here?” he hissed, straining his ears for what he was sure would be a broadcast over the loudspeakers: “Breaking news, four security guards found unconscious at the gates. The suspect, wearing Air Force Ones and gold hoop earrings, is still at large. Be vigilant.”

The suspect before him just wrung her hands together, playing with her fingers as she grit her teeth tight in a grimace. When she spoke, it was cautiously. 

“Trent, and don’t gasp when I say this, but…” she gulped, “I walked.”

Sunshine, sand, and seaweed.

Trent screwed his eyes shut at her cutting sarcasm and remembered thirty minutes prior, back when he only had the rush of winning on his mind and not the urge to put the woman before him in a straight jacket. Ignorance was truly, truly bliss. And wherever she had managed to bring him to was whatever the opposite of what bliss was. 

“Oh, you walked? You walked? Oh, haha, you walked,” he faked a laugh before throwing his hands in the air, rumbling, “Yeah, no shit, you walked!”

She had the nerve to look at him sideways. “Geez, that’s a lot of hostility. Why’d you ask if it’s obvious, then? I thought you really cared, so this is just hurtful,” she said– no, she lied facetiously through her teeth because she enjoyed being a headache and a half. 

Sunshine, sand, and seaweed.

He inhaled through his nostrils for three long seconds and then pursed his lips as he exhaled through his mouth. She waited patiently for whatever he would say, a peaceful smile on her shiny lips.

“You know,” Trent began conversationally after gathering his composure, “I think you trigger my gag reflex or something. Like, I see you, and I start dry heaving. You’re nauseating.”

She grinned, her hands placed on her hips as if she was posing proudly. “Ah. That’s just what every young lady loves to hear from a man.”

“Shut up,” he retorted quickly. Her smile only widened. “I think you’re bad for my nerves,” he hypothesized, “Actually, I think you’re going to be the reason I take up Xanax.”

“Or, y’know, I could get you one of those vests that dogs have for when they let off fireworks,” she suggested, hugging the air around her so that he could visualize the Thundershirt in question.

“Or, you could leave me alone,” he proposed, his eyebrows raised.

“But… Dog vest?” she tried.

“But… My peace?” he tried harder. 

There was a stretch of silence in which she pressed her lips together and tilted her head at him, an undecipherable look sparkling in her eyes as she scanned his face. Trent’s own eyes drank her in as well, desperately attempting to stay aware of her every social cue as the slightest flick of her eyebrow could mean a sarcastic jab that he would have to respond to. When her gaze fell to his shoes briefly, Trent was struck with the realization that she was— Sunshine, sand, seaweed— attractive. He was usually too caught up fighting for his life to revel in her looks, but in scarce moments like those, when she would fall silent and analyze him (she was always analyzing something, he noticed. That was probably why she was so good at being cunning), he would be reminded of how beautiful she was. If only she didn’t moonlight as Doc Ock. 

Her eyes snapped to his once more. She was smirking something wicked. Trent moved to speak just before she could mess with his day further, choosing to cave to her will. He hoped that, in giving in, she would grow bored and leave. She was smart for catching him right after a game, he’d give her that; he was too busy aching all over and yearning for a nap, he simply didn’t have it in him to go toe-to-toe with her.

“I’ll let you get back at me this one time,” was what he said, shaking his head mournfully at his loss and reminiscing on his last win— the very win that he was sure had brought on this fiancée act.

“Aw, TT,” she began sweetly, pouting as if she found him adorable. A gag wracked his body at the absolutely horrible nickname. She raised her hand and brushed a loc from his vision, breaking the news to him gently, “You didn’t ‘let me’ do anything. I won anyway, silly. But thank you for being so nice.”

“A win is debatable,” he replied with an indignant scoff. (He had already changed the scoreboard in her favor.)  

“Aw.” Her soft fingers fell to his chin and she gently squeezed him there, shaking his head lightly as if she was someone’s grandmother. “You’re so cute when you’re delusional,” was her response. 

He eyed her. “Don’t call me cute.”

Her pout deepened. “Aw, you’re so cute when you say don’t call you cute. Cutie,” she complimented, her tone syrupy as she poked a finger into his torso. As her words washed over him, Trent was smacked with what he assumed a sodium overdose felt like.

Sunshine, sand, seaweed... Maybe even some actual weed thrown in there, too.  

“I just– I really want you to know,” he began, speaking past the rising blood pressure from her salt-seasoned words, “That I just... I really despise you.”

“Ah,” she sighed, smiling prettily as if she had woken up from the sweetest of dreams. “So this is love.” 

“It’s something, alright,” he mumbled bitterly. She fixed a smile in his direction, goodnatured and charming, and he could feel his carefully crafted resolve breaking, swaying toward the frustrating girl before him.

Someone shouted for him somewhere neither of them could see, though perhaps their inability to look away from one another had been what did it. He broke first after a pregnant pause, having drank in her every expression, glancing away to promise his presence to the voice. When he turned back, the girl was using a single finger and tapping her shades down onto her nose. 

“I’ll see you later, TT,” she said, taunting him as she began her leisurely stroll further and further away from him. 

“You’re going?” he asked after her, ignoring the nickname in exchange for optimism despite her shoddy track record.

She spun on the heel of her foot, her grin radiant. “Yes, I’m going–” 

His shoulders fell in relief at her response. “Oh, thank God…”

“–Going to go show everyone our engagement photos! Gotta show ‘em what real love looks like.”

He choked raggedly on the air he’d gasped into his lungs. There was a chill somewhere, and he was sure it had began at the ends of his hair though he could only feel its electricity zipping down his chilled spine. He looked all around for a camera. 

SunshinesandseaweedSunshinesandseaweed.

“You’ve gotta what?” There was real, visceral panic in his shaking voice as he watched the girl begin to skip-to-her-lou in the name of mass destruction.  

“I’ll see you later, dear!” she shouted warmly to him over her shoulder, always leaving him in the dust.

SUNSHINESANDSEAWEED—

“You’ve gotta WHAT?!”

[emo-nova]

(TW: Eddie Dies,Kas!Eddie, almost death) When Steve was younger, more imaginative, and less hurt, he liked to think of the what ifs. Like, what if school was shorter on a Wednesday and Friday? What if the squeaky tall doors to the gym would be fixed? (They never were) What if the kids in English class were nicer? What if he saw his mom this month? What if his dad suddenly left his mom alone to live a nice life with Steve?

But over the years, they became more tailored to Hawkins in more ways of escape. In more ways of finally resting. In more ways to finally, finally, be left the fuck alone as everyone stops swarming him like moths. What if he took his mother's offer to hightail it out of Hawkins to Italy to live with family there instead when he was fourteen? What if someone loved him, not for being on top of high school but being Steve? What if he was to leave Hawkins in the dead of the night? (What if Nancy Wheeler loved him?)

Then the flickering lights, red, green, yellow and blue, swarm his vision as he hits this thing. This flower faced monster that would haunt him. What if he left Nancy and Jonathan alone that night? What if the flickering lights in the kitchen was more than shit electricity? What if someone is wat himg him? What if he missed something while fighting the monster?

Nancy broke up with him. Broke him up with drunk slurred words and eyes that held contempt and hurt and everything he wished to never put into someone he loves—loved eyes! What if the kids were hurt? What if Billy beat Lucas up to the point of death? What if the strange flower faced dogs got to Max? What if the vine took away Mike with a yank and broken ankle?

Robin is a bitch at first. But so was he, so he guessed they were even, the board was over the top, but he respected it by the end. What if Erica was hurt? What if Dustin and Erica got caught and tortured? (Theu were kids! His kids!) What if he didn't hit Billy's car with the stolen one Hopper gave him? What if Max didn't have to witness Billy's death?

His mother was concerned, familar italian on her tongue as Steve could only repeat back words he remembered. She showed up at home and cradled him in her arms until both of their tears were gone. Robin stayed the night, his mother didn't care, she knew someone in a similar vein as her, hidden desires of things never going to be. He meets Eddie. He falls for Eddie. He loses Eddie. What if he didn't die? What if he stayed behind? What if Dustin didn't have a limp? What if Steve was the bait with them? What if Steve wasn't at fault for Eddie Munson?

Eddie is back. Changed, skeleton-like, and still Eddie in those wide-eyed doe gaze. Even when Steve feels the blood seep from his wounds, he smiles up at Eddie, feeling like this is the end of the what ifs. But those eyes change. Its just Eddie. "N't yer faul'. 'M sorry, amore mio."

And all that's left is Eddie's voice, quiet and quivering, as his eyes fail Steve and his nerves are shot to kingdom come. It feels nice. Calm, in a sense. And Steve is left alone, in the dark. Willing this time.

He wakes up on the second of July, at five o'clock in the morning. Steve's mom, kisses his forehead and cheeks and nose and his face and shoulders. It's the cries of his mother language that makes Robin burst through the door, followed by a weary and tired looking Dustin and an Eddie. No, THE Eddie. His Eddie. What if this is all going to be okay?

Everything they planned for went for went right. The kids are unbearably suffocating in the nicest way possible, even Mike, as they all want to be shoved into Steve's car, and they all want Steve in their line of sight. Eddie and Robin are attached to him, although out his physical therapy, making sure he eats, drinks water, and stays so far away from cigarettes and even the smallest whiff of weed. They practically decided that Steve is theirs in every sense of the word though not romantic.

It appears differently on the twelfth of December of the same year when Eddie holds him close and mutters words in a different yet magical way. "I love you," and Steve returns it, similarly different and enraptured. "I love you too," and there are not many what ifs after that.

[katana-no-neko]

Call Me By My Name

Chapter 4 | ao3

"Yo, Salamander," Gajeel grumbled. "What's with the goofy face you've always got nowadays?"

Natsu rolled his eyes, not letting his cousin's bad attitude dull his own good mood. "Wouldn't you like to know," he responded, dopey grin still spreading across his lips as he continued bouncing around the domain, greeting his fellow dragons while stuffing breakfast down his gullet.

"Never mind. I really really don't."

Natsu just ignored his remark, giving a nuzzle in goodbye to his mother and sister and then leaping off the mountain and out of their home, soaring away with a mighty flap.

"That boy has spent no time at home lately!" Grandine exclaimed, watching as her son flew off, most likely not to return until the sun set.

"He's been super weird lately," Natsu's uncle Atlas agreed. "He's always been a free spirit, but he's never been so frequently absent. And I don't think I've ever seen him so giddy, not even when he knocked Gajeel off the mountain last summer."

Gajeel growled. "He didn't knock me off, I happened to stumble!"

Metallicana let out a rumbling laugh, slapping his son on the back as he and Igneel approached. "Oh yeah, cuz that's so much better!"

"But no, you're right, Atlas," Igneel nodded. "He's been grinning nonstop for four months, and spent less than half of that time here. Mostly to sleep!"

Atlas let out another booming chuckle. "He's reminding me of you at his age, Igneel! You were always flying up to the northern dragon clan to see Grandine! Didn't pay any mind to your own family!"

Igneel grinned dopily, wrapping his arm around his wife. "Yes, well, a dragon is focused on nothing else when he's in love," he rationalized, pressing a kiss to Grandine's cheek. There was a beat, and then the group's eyes widened.

"Holy shit. Is the kid in love?" Metallicana pondered. "I mean, there's no way, right? It's *Natsu*."

Grandine thought back. "It would certainly explain his behaviour... The constant smiles and happiness... And he must be visiting this mystery love of his!"

"Now I'm curious!" Igneel chuckled. "What kind of woman could have caught that boy's attention!? A dragon from another clan, maybe?"

"Perhaps a human?" Atlas suggested. "He visits that Magnolia quite a bit, wouldn't be surprised if he fell for one of those girls at the restaurant," he snickered with a sleazy grin.

"Well, we're not gonna figure it out chattering! Hey Gajeel, come here for a second!"

~~~

Gajeel grumbled to himself as he flew through the air, trying to catch a trail of Natsu's scent. The others were the ones going all gaga over Natsu's supposed love, why'd he have to follow the dumbass!? Besides, it's not like he was actually hanging out with some girl. It was *Natsu*. His cousin had never once been interested in romance.

Finally catching a whiff of Natsu, Gajeel reared his head and flew in its direction. Getting close to the source, he landed in a clearing and transformed, walking the rest of the trail. Hearing laughter from his cousin, Gajeel crouched behind some foliage and took a look ahead.

Holy shit, he *was* with a girl, from the sound of her voice! He couldn't see her very well from this angle, but they were laying on a lakeshore, chattering and laughing and splashing their feet in the water. Who was this girl? What manner of creature was she? She didn't have the scent of a dragon, but she had something special beyond a normal human's scent.

The girl sat up and poked Natsu's nose with a giggle, and Gajeel's blood ran cold. Her long ears... She was a fae. Natsu had been enchanted.

Gajeel leapt from his hiding spot, becoming a dragon again and sweeping the fae away from his cousin with a lash of his tail.

She gasped in pain as she landed, the touch of his iron leaving a burning sensation across her skin. Tears flooded her eyes as she stared up at the ferocious black dragon, poised to slash his claws across her.

Before Gajeel could move, he was rammed in the side, falling into the lake. Becoming a human again before his heavy dragon weight could sink down, he gasped for breath as he treaded water. "What the hell!?" he shouted, seeing his cousin's dragon staring down at him, crouched defensively and blocking the fae. "How stupid could you be!? Enchanted by a fae!? You've reached a new level of dumb!"

Natsu growled, crouching lower and stepping over the fae to cover her, a burst of fire coming from his nose as Gajeel swam towards them. "I'm not enchanted, and don't you dare step any closer. You hurt her any more and I hurt you."

"Oh yeah, 'not enchanted', my ass," he grumbled, climbing onto the shore and wringing water from his hair. He seethed as Natsu continued growling, more flames licking around his snout. "She's a faerie! That's what they *do!* Now step aside so I can take care of her, since you're obviously too far gone to kill her yourself!"

Rage filled Natsu as he snarled, teeth bared. Before he could do anything though, he felt a small palm against his scaled shoulder. "Natsu..." Lucy started.

Gajeel watched as the dragon's entire demeanor changed, letting go of his defensive position and moving to nuzzle against her hand and then sniffing at her injuries for blood. He was so obedient and calm with her, being enchanted was the *only* explanation! But... She'd never used Natsu's true name, had she?. Wasn't an invocation necessary to control someone?

"I'm okay," the fae assured. "Talk to him, he was just worried about you." Natsu shot a glare to Gajeel, almost like he'd forgotten the iron dragon was there until the fae had reminded him, and then he transformed.

"You go anywhere near Lucy and you're back in the lake," Natsu threatened, crossing his arms in front of him. "I swear, I'm not enchanted. Lucy does not know my true name." Gajeel raised an eyebrow and looked over to 'Lucy'. "Don't look at her, look at me!" Natsu commanded. Gajeel stood straight and brought his stare back to Natsu, not used to such a serious attitude from him. "She's my best friend. I met her a while ago and we've been hanging out nearly every day. She has never once tried to trick me into revealing my name and in fact ordered me to never say it."

Gajeel sneered. "You're sure putting a lot of trust into a *fae*."

Natsu growled again, but at Lucy's touch, stopped and took a breath to calm down. "Fine," he finally said. "You won't believe me, I'll prove it to you."

"Ha! As if anything you do will-" but Gajeel's eyes widened at Natsu's next words.

"Lucy, my true name is-"

Before Gajeel could react, Lucy had slapped a hand over Natsu's mouth.

"Natsu, you idiot!" Lucy and Gajeel both shouted. Natsu just grinned and licked the hand she still had over his mouth.

"Ewww, Natsu!" Lucy shouted, pulling it back and wiping it on his shirt. He snickered and stuck his tongue out at her, grabbing her hand and threatening to lick it again while Gajeel watched on, frowning.

"Why would you *willingly* tell a fae your name!?"

Natsu rolled his eyes, mood suddenly dampened again as he dropped Lucy's hand. "Because, moron, she would never *let* me. Didn't you see? She doesn't want my name, just my friendship. I don't care that she's a faerie." Gajeel watched Natsu wrapped his arm around her shoulders nonchalantly, almost as if it was instinct and not purposeful. "You're fine with Erza, what makes Lucy different!?"

"You know *exactly* what makes Erza different - she's half dragon and doesn't have fae magic, dipshit!"

Natsu scoffed and waved him off. "And besides. If I was under her spell, why would I keep going back home?"

Gajeel grumbled. "I suppose you have a point there."

"Just trust me, Gajeel. I know Lucy, and I know she's the most wonderful, kind *person* ever. I don't give a shit what kind of creature she is," Natsu declared earnestly, Lucy's heart swelling at his words.

Gajeel weighed Natsu's claims. Ultimately, Gajeel couldn't trust anything about the fae. But Natsu clearly did, and that was all that really mattered, he supposed. "Fine. Whatever," he sighed. "Keep hanging out with a faerie, I don't care anymore." Natsu grinned at Lucy in response, squeezing her hand in his excitement. Gajeel rolled his eyes and continued. "So what's your plan here? Just keep your girlfriend secret from-"

Natsu and Lucy both flushed and stuttered. "Whoa, whoa, who said anything about a girlfriend!?" He shouted. "I told you, 'best friend'!"

Gajeel crossed his arms and cocked his eyebrow. "Yeahhhh... Whatever you say. Either way, I don't think your dad is not going to be happy with you hanging out with a fae."

"So I won't tell him for now!"

"Pfft. That's not really gonna work considering *I'm* about to tell him. He's the one that sent me after you to find out what you've been doing!"

Natsu blanched. "Well, don't tell him! It's not like I'm hurting you by hanging out with her!"

Lucy touched a hand to his arm. "Natsu, I don't want you to get in trouble with your family because of me."

He took her palm and held it, gently rubbing his thumb across her knuckles. "It's fine, Lucy. I'll figure something out. If they can't accept you, then they're a bunch of stupid heads," he smirked. She shook her head at his comment, but couldn't help but crack a smile.

"Gods, I can't stand to watch you flirt." Gajeel ignored their further stuttering. "I'll think of something to tell your dad when I get home but you better come up with a plan."

Natsu opened his mouth to argue, but paused. After thinking for a bit, all he came up with was, "Thank you."

Gajeel grumbled as he shifted forms. "Whatever." He stared down at the faerie for a bit, who was trembling before his iron-clad body. A sting of guilt darted through him at her expression and the obvious worry his cousin had for her fear. Before Natsu could shout at him again, Gajeel gave a nod in acknowledgement to her, let his ever present scowl return, and took off into the air.

"So, what'd you find out?" Igneel had asked when Gajeel arrived home. "My son have a secret girlfriend?"

"No," Gajeel hesitated. "But he's definitely in love."

[mistresskayla-blog1]

Tooth First Into Her

Characters: Ray Levine x OC werewolf Jesula Paul

Lyn's Writing Event - Challenge Days - Day 30 (late submission)

May 30th: Challenge Days: Chupacabra

Characters:  Ray Levine x OC Haitian Fem werewolf – Jesula Paul

Fandom: Richard Armitage – Ray Levine – Stay Close

The character of Ray Levine was created by Harlan Coben

The character of Jesula Paul was created by Kayla B Crowe

Word Count: 1.9k (P1)

Warnings: werewolf, shapeshifting, potential smut, chupacabra, blood thirst, full moon, goat death,

Location: Haiti, Caribbean (Insulated fantasy timeline)

The Chupacabra legend dates back to the 1980s when they were started to be seen in Puerto Rico, but many accounts from the local’s date earlier, as well as farther reaching. All through the Caribbean and even as far south as Chile, and as far north as Maine. The legend states that sightings of a dog like creature that fed off the goats, draining them of their blood like a vampire.  Ray caught a whiff of this legend, and like many other expeditions he had been on, post Callie, he wanted to see this thing for himself.  He booked a flight and headed for a sighting a message board said was “fresh” and “hot” in Haiti. Ray knew whatever he found down in Haiti would be worth the trip.

The message board accounts talked about likelihood during a full moon, so Ray made sure he landed and stayed for the duration of that event, four days in the warmth, sun and spirit of the islands. It was mid may in Haiti, the full moon fell on the evening of the 22nd.  Ray flew in that afternoon from Newark, and about a day later he arrived in Port Au Prince, to a balmy 90 degrees, making him shed everything but a t-shirt when he got off the plane. And furthermore wish he owned more than 2 pairs of jeans. He popped into the shop and grabbed some cargo khaki shorts and kind of chortled at them, remembering the last time he wore khaki, in the desert with Simona. Glad to be out of the fray, and into something else, even if it was a wild goose chase by all accounts. Ray didn’t mind, he wanted to find the truth of the mysteries, stir up the natives and see what his lens could pick up.

Ray checked into his hotel room and dropped his stuff, looking out to the sea.  A bar sat along the edge of the beach, so he took a little walk down to it. Music was playing an island tune, the kind that made you want to pull someone onto a dance floor and hold them close. Ray looked over at a young couple, doing just that, he snapped a couple shots and smiled in kind. The girl’s young face was etched along the chest of her lover’s shirt, framed in the light of the sunset. The sky against the lapping shore was bigger than he had ever seen in New Jersey. The night fell fast and after a few beers Ray could watch the moon rise from the sea like a Goddess just missing her lover in rendezvous. He caught what he could with his lens, and then just stared out into the reflections, and listened to the waves crash against the shore.

A women came into view, she was clad in skirts, and a hair wrap, that made her head billow against the moon sitting on the water. Her shadow, an etching upon its face. Ray started snapping again, from afar. Hypnotized by her form as it trailed farther and farther down the beach, until she was just a spec against the looming darkness of the jungle. He swears he could smell her on the wind, as it came towards him. Some kind of rich, earthy scent, that mixed with the sea breeze in an heady manner. It electrified him away from the bar and down the shoreline to the water.

---

Jesula decided to take a walk on the beach that night, her hunger sated from some fresh local fare, she had found in the Port, by a little shack. It was getting late and the moon was rising. Another opportunity to test her mettle and see if she could change. She had become a loner because of her tribe’s rejection, and Jesula wanted more than anything to just know her true power, so she could go back to them. The life of a werewolf could be a lonely one, if you didn’t have your tribe to fall back on. Jesula wore her head wrapped, to conceal, as her ears started to punch through her thick black hair, when the moon rose to its place above the water. Her tail protruded from under her skirts, and started to sway with her hips as she walked.

She had the hunger that was for sure. In more ways than one, but Jesula had not been with anyone, since she was born into this awareness. The thought of laying with another werewolf terrified her, would she like it, would he lose control? She had heard stories, but what about if it was a human man? What if she changed him, then would it be easier? Could it be controlled? Too many questions and not enough answers. Jesula kept walking down the shoreline, focusing on her thoughts, and the taste of blood still in her mouth. She knew no matter what, men would taste different than goats.

---

              Ray trailed after her a little while, until he reached the edge of a rock face, and did not see her anywhere, but that scent still lingered in the rustling of the palm fronds. Hitting his senses and motivating him further. Ray walked into the jungle’s edge, in the dark, barely enough light from the resort to help him. The streetlights were further away, and as the scent drifted away, he felt himself fade as well. Ray stopped and shaking off his wanderlust, he turned around and headed back to the hotel.

---

The next morning, Ray was, as usual passed out in his clothes in his bed, face first like a teenager. He rolled over, the breeze from his room coming through the natural windows. It was already humid today, and Ray peeled himself off his sheets and stumbled into a shower of cooler water. A little shave, and a fresh shirt, shorts, and oh lord, a pair of sandals. He was looking like a tourist for sure now, he chuckled to himself. “Oh if Fester could see me now” he said aloud.

              Ray went into the hotel shop again, looking for some snacks and a map of the area, and stumbled upon a little semblance of bottles on a quaint display. He pulled one out, and read the label, “Vetiver”, he said as he read the bottle. He opened the stopper and took a whiff, yep, that was what he smelled last night on his patio. It flowed in the air as he watched the full moon rise. It was lemony, woody, and earthy with a smoky undertone, bred from the grounds, the rich earth of the region and just as potent as anything else he had imagined before stepping foot here. Just as potent as that woman on the beach last night, her siren’s call that propelled him down the shoreline to her. He hoped her ran into her again, at some point, even if its only at night. Ray paid for the map, some crisps, and the bottle, and headed down the streets towards a village called Petion-Ville.

Ray walked for about an hour, taking in the bright buildings, people and culture. His camera a flurry of clicks as life happened all around him that morning. He found an art gallery and stepped inside. The Galerie d’Art Nader, is a local gallery of artists. Ray looked around at all the fabulous local color, all the art and feeling inspired, he attempted to leave the Galerie and smelled the woman from the night before. This time he heard the lilt of a woman to the scent, and when he turned towards that sound, he saw her looking right at him. She was talking to someone else, but her sharp lavender eyes against her chocolate skin took his breath away.  She didn’t smile at him, not right away, just held his gaze. She finished talking to the other woman he assumed was the owner and stepped towards him boldly.

“Is there anything that interests you?” Jesula asked.

Ray was momentarily stunned, he looked down at his camera, and then back up to her, “Oh, um, yes, but no. I wouldn’t have a place to put it. My walls are already full, but everything here, (he looked around before his eyes landed back on her) is beautiful.”

Jesula felt the heat on her neck when he locked eyes with her again. Something about him was different. She smiled a bit, “Thank you, my friend, owns this place, she is very proud to have so many local artists here.” She pointed to his camera, “Are you an artist as well?”

Ray looked at his camera again, putting the cap back on, “Oh, yeah. Of course. But I don’t paint, that is different type of creation. I am more of a documentarian. Observing life and then capturing it”. He thrust his hand out in the traditional fashion, and she took it, softly in her own. That electric motivation surged when they touched, and both of them felt it. They both visibly twitched and then retreated their mutual hands. “My name is Ray”, Ray said, Jesula looked up at his gaze again, “I am Jesula.” Putting her hand to her chest, fumbling with an amulet around her neck.

Ray found his boldness again, and asked curiously, “Are you working here, or can we, get a coffee?” He kind of chuckled because he wasn’t sure if he was messing up a custom or anything.

Jesula nodded, “We can go get some drinks, sure, let me just let her know I’m leaving.” Jesula walked away, her skirts swooshing, he noticed then some other bells were jingling on her hips. She made music as she moved, that was very attractive to his senses as well. Jesula swished back, and Ray put his hand out to escort her out. She giggled at him, lightly amused, and led him across the streets to the café. They sat down and engaged in conversation for a while, musing at each other, and the heat grew between them as the day grew warmer around them.

Leaving nothing up to chance, Ray asked her out to dinner later in the evening. Jesula accepted and offered to meet him at the bar by the Marriott where he was staying. Ray left her at the café and went back towards his hotel, taking a taxi this time. Jesula had given him some pointers on the best way to use a taxi in Port Au Prince. He was grateful when he was dropped off efficiently and with most of his cash still in his pocket.

Ray logged into his computer when he got back to his room and checked the message boards. Sure enough, someone had been tracking him, and said, “did you see the goat deaths in the area are higher during the full moon? Maybe that’s the connection.” Ray spoke out loud to the screen, “So I’m looking for goats?” he laughed. He typed that as he said it. The message chimed back, “No, but where they have loss, you will be on the trail to catch the infamous Chupacabra.” They are known to feast on the blood of goats, its what started the legend. Fay nodded, “I’ll let you know what I find.” He logged off and closed his laptop. Ticking his hands on the desk. He looked around the room, checking the time on the bedside clock. “So now what do I do?” he said to an empty room.

Part 2…planned. dripping in soon.

Taglist:

@middleearthpixie @legolasbadass @scariusaquarius @sweetestgbye @lathalea @riepu10 @evenstaredits @amylupotter @linasofia @enchantzz

Thanks to all the great writers that supported me through this challenge and those who commented and those who liked my work.

[sinfullapis]

The Skyrim Border Skirmish

Sort of forgot to share this piece WAY sooner; I finished an older piece depicting my Khajiit OC Ardene Marquet as her tale as the Dragonborn of Skyrim begins...~ ... ... ... Past the border between Cyrodill and into Skyrim, it's cold but the weather has been forgiving with a bright warm sun to contrast the blanket powdery snow coating the Tundra landscape A lone Khajiit wakes up from a deep slumber, cozily rolled up in her furs and blankets in a worn, meager tent. its small but comforting, and it sure kept her warm overnight the campfire before her still smoulders with embers, as this awfully short Cathay, still bundled up in her thick fur linens stumbles out with a groggy look in her eye, rubbing the sleep out her face as she looks to add more firewood to the flame its a bright and sunny morning, and so while the cat wakes up, she begins to prepare two pots; one full of snow looking to be melted down into a boil, and another with what looked like bits of travelling pot soup, ready to be properly reduced into a warm hearty soup~ the hungry Khajiit had caught a fish the night before and left it hanging to dry a bit, and her stomach growled in anticipation as she looked forward to her day~ Nude underneath her fur wraps, the Khajiit patiently waited for the first pot to boil some, and once it warmed up nicely, she let the water cool a small bit before bathing in its soothing warmth, contrasting the brisk tundra snow as she let the steaming hot water soak her thoroughly any aches in her bones melted away, and she quickly dried off before the moisture that clung to her fur could freeze and turn a pleasant evening very sour by the time she wrapped herself in some simple tunic, the other pot already began to simmer, and the frozen forest filled with the smell of pleasant soup, as she began to prepare the fish for a boil. She hummed to herself as she worked; it was lonely out here but all things considered, the Khajiit was pleased. Certainly, she was having a much better time than how she was long ago... with the fish prepared and now stewing in a pot full of travel soup, the Khajiit waited and waited. her stomach growled some, so to take her mind off it, she decided to wander around the nearby thicket while her breakfast cooked~ As she hopped from conveniently placed stones and overturned logs, she caught whiff of... something else in the air burning? it couldn't be her food, she was careful in her preparation; then what was it?... The smell intensified, burning, it agitated her nostrils; there were many flames. She knew she couldn't linger there, so she retreated as briskly as she could to her camp she'd be safe here... Right?... The lone Khajiit waited in her tent, she didn't dare move, didn't dare try to leave her tent. There was a deep silence, cut by the nearby bubbling of fish stew, and the occasional wind that pierced the evergreen trees near the camp One breath... Two breaths... Three... A loud, ear-splitting thunk shatters the silence as an arrow whizzes past the leather canopy of the tent, embedding itself into the sturdy bark of the tree the tent was propped up on. More came, like a deadly rainfall that pierced the tree's, the smell of smoke and burning grew and grew, there was shouting. The Khajiit dare not peek from her tent, though her cowardice need not matter. Towering Nords, like frightening wolves barreling towards the camp, clad in silvers and blues, many of them wounded and bleeding They flooded the camp, shouting and screaming, they tore through like a terrible storm, fierce blizzard winds toppling everything and anything as the poor Khajiit's tent was torn asunder There she saw, a violent skirmish, blood spattering the once glistening white snow Soldiers clad in blue, clashing against warriors in sturdy leather and greens Arrows filled the silence in between shouts, swords clashed as warriors fell, staining the ground red, a bloody battlefield as soldiers fell like flies to swords and great hammers and piercing arrows She couldn't find it in her to scream, her body froze as she curled further into herself, breath losing control fear all she knew was fright and terror She tried to stumble to her feet, regaining some of her senses as a fireball quaked the ground and scorched the earth and snow, alongside two soldiers now screaming blood-curdling cries as their skin and flesh singed, bubbling and molten from the violent flames Stumbling, unable to keep her balance, she tries to reach for her bow but as she regains her footing a Nord crashes into her shoulder, knocking both to the ground "Out of the WAY Cat!!" he shouts, spittle and blood flinging from his lips as he pushed the helpless Khajiit head-first into the snow, clambering back to his feet before sprinting off into the woods; his once azure blue robes now stained with the blood of his enemies and comrades seconds, then minutes For all she knew, hours could've passed The cries seemed to stop at some point... though she couldn't say when She stayed huddled there in the freezing snow, unmoving, shivering madly, not from cold, but from a deep, festering terror that clung at her soul with a vice. Was she going to die? Will this be over soon? She's forced to her feet by some brute hand, dragging her into the air by her hair as she yelps; there, she can finally see the forest around here no longer welcoming embers and smoke filled the air around them, it was difficult to breathe, and all around them were now freezing pools of blood, smelling of heavy iron that brought the cat to her senses "What do we do about this one?" exclaimed a voice, likely the Imperial still holding her in a crushing grip "We'll bring what we can, anyone still alive, we'll take them to Helgen and judge them there" shouted another voice. "We have the Bear of Markarth, round up any other stragglers and let's get a move on." Hyperventilating now, she'd have likely passed out anyways were it not for the sudden blunt force at the back of her head. Her world became darkness... ... ...... Falling in and out of conciousness. It was cold. Everything hurt, her head especially, like an iron ball resting upon her shoulders threatening to cave in her skull The world was fuzzy still all around her, but as she stirred still, a voice sang to her in the confusion. "You... You're finally awake?..."

Posted using PostyBirb

[eichigo]

I've been looking for a fanfiction that has the genshin characters on the real world but couldn't find one so I decided to make one myself, but with a sprinkle of twist.

Summary:

An apocalypse had broke out, zombies scattered everywhere which you didn't expect to meet a group of handsome men and beautiful women who ironically persisted on accompanying you on your messed up apocalypse life? How bad could it be?

Part: 1, 2, 3

Tw: ooc, gore(?), blood, swears.

"Just where are we?!" Paimon cried out, her eyes glancing to the side only to find the same abandoned area with a few dried blood splattered against the cement wall.

Aether placed a finger on his lips, eyes squinting lightly as he tugged the crying creature close to his chest, silently begging Paimon to shut her mouth before they could get caught.

They were just on a hunt for a ruin guard to increase their reputation in liyue when a strong wind had knocked them back, they didn't know what happened but they just found themselves in a abandoned building with snarling monsters lurking around.

The monsters are walking, trudging towards the exit of the building they are currently in— rotten skins, dangling flesh of an unknown animal on their mouth with hideous wounds around their body. Heck, even their clothes are tattered, their chest, arms, legs and faces seem to have a couple of bites on them.

"Keep quiet, I don't know where we are and I'm sure you don't want to alarm any of those.. creatures." The blonde whispered while tugging his companion closer to him, he even covered her ears so she wouldn't hear the detestable sounds that comes out of their mouth.

"Paimon's scared, aether.." His companion whispered, trembling against him which made the male frown. He doesn't know how to comfort her because he knew that whatever comes out of his mouth, may it be comforting words or an insult— it wouldn't help her ease her nerves.

Much to his relief though, the little companion snuggled to his chest and decided to close her eyes, not wanting to see anymore of the creatures near the exit.

But where are they really?

It seems that the two aren't the only ones who got knocked back because somewhere in the area, a group of five people had been on a run ever since they got transported into this.. unknown place.

"Diluc, on your right!" Jean exclaimed, eyes widening at the sight of a creature latching itself against the mentioned man's arm.

Kaeya was quick to move on his feet, a rusted crowbar on his right hand as he dashed towards the red head male, "Duck!" Was all the eye-patched man yelled out before the red head quickly lowered his head, just in time for Kaeya to swing his crowbar towards the creature's head.

The said creature fell limp and Diluc wasted no time to push it off of him, not wanting to get a whiff of its horrendous smell.

"So far, all the information we have are these creatures loves human flesh and they are quite sensitive to sound." Lisa, the librarian uttered under her breath as she examined the corpse on the floor, "This one seem to be dead for a few days now, bashing their head helps bringing them down but.."

"They were human before." Venti stated, finishing what Lisa wanted to say.

"We can talk later." Diluc said as he wiped the blood off from his face with a handkerchief, "Let's move away from this area first, Jean's yell and this fool's—" On cue of pointing towards Kaeya, "—scream might have grab an unwanted attention from those creatures."

"You're right." The archon smiled giddily, "Let's move first!"

"This is not good." You muttered to yourself while staring intently in the paper on your hand, well more precisely, it's a map.

"What's not good?" The voice of your little sister came from your right, "And what's that? Is that another scrap from the store?"

"No." Was your reply to her last question and you didn't bother to answer her previous questions because you're worried at the fact that your food and water supplies are running low, you don't even know if you can venture out from the safe zone based on your map.

"Sheesh, I can help y'know?" Your little sister pout at you since she knew that you're purposely ignoring her.

You glanced to her direction, taking note of her ragged clothes and old bandages wrapped around her arms to protect her from possible threats outside of your humble abode.

You released a sigh and shoved the map inside your pocket before kneeling down in front of her, "I know that you want to help, but what did I say?"

"That I can't step out of the door nor glide down the rooftop." She mimicked your voice with a small frown on her face which made you smile.

"Do you know why?" You asked gently as you grabbed her cheeks, looking into her eyes with love and adoration.

"Because you don't want me to be a meal of the zombies outside.." She replied meekly, shying away from your touch as she crossed her arms infront of her chest, "But mixing and making medicines are boring! I want to help you gather supplies for the two of us too!"

You let out a huff, "Let me scout the area first then I'll come back to get you, is that okay?"

Her eyes widened, a wide and bright smile broke into her features that looked similarly to yours, "Yes! Yes! Of course! You can take your time but make sure to come back before lunch then we'll venture out into the unknown!"

She didn't even let you say anything because she already run towards the end of the hall where her room is located, you couldn't help but chuckle out because of her enthusiasm. It's not like you don't trust her to protect herself, after all, she was the one who killed both of your parents five months ago when you couldn't do it yourself.

Those were times when you don't know how the two of you would survive without your parents, but luckily, she served as your strength which helped you to build yourself as a strong and independent young woman.

"Guess I have to get moving then." You chuckled once more.

When you said that you're gonna scout the first area outside the safe zone— you meant that you wouldn't engage om killing the zombies, but six people— who are cosplaying, if you may add, had bumped into you while they were getting chased by a large group of zombies in the distance.

"We're sorry!" The green-haired lady meekly exclaimed as you tightened your grip around her wrist, "Diona, Ganyu, and I didn't really mean to stumble down those stairs!"

The blue haired female pursed her lips, she didn't say anything and just continued running since she doesn't know what else to say to you. It is a little awkward and all of you are being chased by a horde of unknown creatures as well.

Though, the youngest cosplayer that you are carrying on your back let out a quiet hiss, "If only those foxes didn't try to touch me then I wouldn't fall.." Diona whispered, feeling guilty that she and the two young ladies had slowed you down.

"It's not good to blame others for your clumsines—" The black haired male got cut off when you sent him a glare.

"I believe that yelling and talking would attract more of those so start to run faster." You stated calmly, you happened to look at the others who are running with you, their animal ears that are part of their cosplay seem to twitch when they heard your statement.

Strange.. You thought, although, you didn't dwell more into it and opted to run faster, you don't have that much stamina but compared to the people around you— it seems like they haven't broke a sweat yet.

You can't risk leading the horde of zombies towards your home so instead, you run further away from it.

During your run, you had let go of the young lady's wrist and told Diona to hold on tight before pulling the map from your pocket, you gave it a quick look, trying to find the nearest store to scavenge and to hide into as well.

"There's a nearby convenience store!" You informed the others as you put back the map into your pocket, "Try to grab a couple of empty cans beside the road and follow me!" You gave them instructions and they are more than willing to follow it.

You were quick to behind a large broken concrete wall, the other five hid behind to an opposite broken wall and they clutch the empty cans onto their grasps.

You placed a finger on your lips and pulled Diona close to you, they seem to understand what you meant and each of them either placed their hand on their mouth or form their lips into a straight line.

You grabbed a rusted piece of metal behind Diona and stick your head out on the wall to look at the horde of zombie, the undeads haven't notice you and the others yet so you quietly shift in your spot. You lifted your arm and readied yourself to throw the metal and you let go of it, throwing it with a strength that you can muster.

Clang!

"Grr..!" The zombies immediately went to the direction where you threw the distraction.

You let out a sigh of relief when you saw that the horde of zombies slowly dispersed on their own, you waited for a little bit longer, tightening your arms around Diona— afraid that you might have inflict a possible trauma towards the child's brain.

"The coast is clear." You murmured, (color) eyes glancing around to look if a zombie is in sight, luckily, there's no undead near you and that is a sign that you can go out in the open.

"Just.. What are those?" The brown haired male asked, his tail slowly curling against his left thigh as he moved closer to the other male cosplayer, he dropped the empty can in his grasp, seeing that there won't be a use of it anymore.

You blinked and looked away from the seemingly real tail, "Those are what we call zombies." You stated in a matter-of-fact tone and ushered them inside the convenience store.

"Zomb—" You quickly covered the black haired male's mouth which made the others tensed up.

You looked around the interior of the store and slowly let go of the male before pushing Diona gently towards the green haired young lady, you signaled them to stay still on their spot and you pulled the screw driver from your belt before going behind on an empty shelf.

One, two.. You mentally took note that there are two zombies, they are not that far from each other but it can create enough time for you to kill the first one before striking the second one.

Quickly, you dashed towards the nearest zombie, you kicked it from behind and quickly stabbed its head thrice before moving to the next one, you kicked its shin and it doubled over which gave you the chance to stab its head.

"It's clear." You called out, placing the screw driver back to its place on your waist and turned to look at the six cosplayer, "I have three bags inside my backpack and I want you guys to fill it up with whatever you can find inside this store, don't forget to check the date and the seal."

Just as you were about to give them the bag, the black haired male raised his hand which caught your attention.

"Yes?" You hummed, giving him a bag.

"I just wanted to ask, before you rudely cover my mouth back there, what is a zombie?" He asked, albeit a little sassy regarding the tone of his voice.

You pursed your lips, "You seriously don't know what a zombie is?"

"I wouldn't ask if I know." He said, green eyes squinting into a glare, he doesn't know why he felt offended by your question but he doesn't like the feeling it left on his chest.

"Where have you all have been living? Under a damn rock?" You scoffed under your breath, unintentionally saying it outloud instead of thinking of it.

"No, for your information, I live in Sumeru, deep in Avidya forest and I'm quite proud of it." He replied, wearing a serious expression as he grip tightly on the bag that you gave him.

"Sumeru? Where's that?" This time, you're the one who's confused.

The male was about to answer but he was cut off by the other male, "Please argue later, let's do an introduction for now since we don't know your name yet." The brown haired male stated calmly, there's a hint of authority in his voice but you dismissed it.

"Right, my name is (name), I think it's nice to meet you guys." You introduced yourself, coming off a little sarcastic at the end of your introduction.

"Very well, you can call me Gorou." The brown haired male said his name with a small smile.

"I'm Sucrose.." The young lady uttered, hiding behind the pink haired female— whom you've noticed just now. You were busy running away from the zombies to the point of not looking at the people you've been with for the past hour.

"Yae miko, you can call me Miko." Her tail wagged lightly behind her as she introduced herself, again, you didn't dwell too much into it and dismissed it.

"Tighnari." The guy who said that he lives in Sumeru.

"I'm Ganyu, I'm really sorry for bumping into you." She apologized and lowered her head while saying those words, "I didn't know what a zombie is, that's why I panicked and ran, which is a bad idea considering that I almost left a child behind along with them."

"I.." You trailed off, you don't know what to say since they seem sincere about not knowing what a zombie is, they're probably locked away from the world ever since the apocalypse started, but isn't that weird? Don't they need to eat and drink? Haven't they run out of supplies yet?

In the end, you cannot stick your nose into their business so you just waved your hand in the air and sighed.

"They're originally a normal human, a pandemic broke out which killed a lot of people in this country." Your eyebrows furrowed as you reminisce at the bitter memories, "Of course, a vaccine was made, but the virus already mutated and it caused those corpses to come back to life."

Diona's ears flattened against her head, she doesn't want to hear what's next but Yae shook her head and ushered her to listen carefully.

"Those people who comes back to life.. They start to bite those around them, they bite and eat the others, until they're satisfied." You shivered when you remembered how your mother ate your father's innards, "Once the bitten died, they will also turn into a zombie."

"You must be cautious and prepared at all times, you never know where a zombie might be lurking. They might jump at you and bite you so never let your guard down." You ruffled Diona's hair and smiled gently, "But you got two big brothers and three big sisters with you so you should feel a little more at ease."

"I believe that she must not rely on us too much." Tighnari stated, "Anyways, I thought we're here to gather scavenge for supplies? I don't know what is today's date so you need to teach me on how to look at the expiration date."

"Got it." You sighed in defeat, you guessed that is his way of talking so you just dismissed the tone of his voice.

"By the way.." Sucrose trailed off and you raised an eyebrow as you wait for her to finish her sentence, "Where did this virus came from?"

You shrugged, "I heard that it's from a wild bat, but I'm not sure."

"Then—" The green haired lady got cut off from the sound of chuckling that came from the back of the store, the sound alerted you and the others.

They quickly pushed Diona into the back to protect her and you didn't hesitate to stand infront of them.

"That's an amusing story." A man with an eye-patch walked out from the storage room, holding an alcoholic drink, "I'm pretty sure that Lisa and Jean would be intrigued on hearing that story."

"Who the hell are you?" You snarled, pulling your knife from your waist and holding it tightly close to you.

"Calm down." He stated and carefully raised both of his arms in the air with the alcoholic drink on his right hand, "I'm Kaeya, I'm not here to hurt any of you, especially not you—" He pointed his forefinger to you and smiled, "—when you know a lot about those.. Zombies."

"My friends are nearby, we have gathered a lot of food and water galloons while we're running away." He informed you and gave you a close eye smile.

"What do you say? Would you mind sharing a little bit of information in exchange of supplies?"

[3xm-draconic]

Desmodes (Werebat and Astarion Story) TRIGGER WARNINGS!

Summary: Cyris and Astarion Confront Cazador...things end badly

“YOU WHAT?” Cyris turned to Astrion shocked, “darling I was forced to do it, HE . FORCED. ME” Astarion replied, Cyris understood but still…

They were children…

Children.

They had stumbled into the Gur camp by accident, originally Cris wanted to kill them all to protect Astarion…but after hearing them out…

“We need to help them and we already planned on shredding the flesh from your old master’s bones anyhow…we should stop postponing” Cyris grumbled, he was…angry…angry at it all.

 Angry at the situation they were in.

If they brought Astarion along he could be sacrificed…but Cyris knew he could not deny his sweet little star the taste of…vengeance…

They left the 12 rust swords tavern at first light…

Astarion, Karlach, him and Gale…

But as they were leaving…

Cyris caught a whiff of vampire scent…the smell of moss on old gravestones…

Cyris tracked voices to a room…he placed his ear to the door…

“We should go, I don’t want to face the master if we are late for his black mass…” A woman quivered in fright, “soon sister, I only need one more mark” a male remarked, “we have enough for the master, no more are needed!” she squeaked.

Cyris peeked inside, there was a human male and a female dark elf…

“It’s not for the master, it’s for me!” the human whined “I spent 100 years eating rats and dogs…but soon I’ll be able to feast!” he gleefully muttered.

Astarion heard their voices too…he barged in.

“Cazador promised you your freedom? And you believed him? HA! You were never burdened with intelligence” he mocked them.

“ASTARION!” they gawked in unison…

“It…it can not be..” the drow uttered, “that's no way to welcome back a brother doll” he hissed, “You got out, you were free…why did you come back?”, “I am here to kill him, to kill Cazador” astarion proudly smiled.

“You’re lying, you…you can’t raise a hand to the master…” Petrace shuttered.

“You have NO idea what I can do…” astarion smirked darkly…

He grabbed Petrace by the throat and held him to an open window, to the sunlight…

He started to calcify…to turn to ash…  

“NO!” Doll screamed.

“WHERE IS HE HIDING!?” Astarion growled “TELL ME!”, Petrace screamed in utter agony, “Brother, Please!” Doll begged. 

As much as Cyris found domaneering Astarion to be Hot as fuck…it was pretty horrible seeing him treat them like this…

“Look guys just talk or he’ll burn you” Cyris sighed…

“WHAT THE HELLS HAPPENED TO YOU ASTARION, W-WHAT ARE YOU?!”, Astarion smiles “I am MORE than what I was…”

They left for this…Defiled Chapple…

“You know that was fucking hot…you being all…dominating…back there” Cyris said as he pulls Astarion close to him, Astarion chuckled “would you like me to dominate you?” he stared into Cyris’s eyes “my pet~”

Astarion looks at him devilishly “You know Cy…what if someone else…completes the ritual…”, “that would be bad starry, I don’t wanna lose you”, “what if someone took my place?”, “I don’t wanna lose you…to power, you don’t need that power to be powerful darlin…” Cyris sighed.

Great…it was in the sewers…just great…

Wading in knee-high shit-water was not on Cyris’s to-do list today…and yet here he was…

What was even worse than the sewers?...setting camp in Cazador’s Mansion, they got attacked in their sleep and Cyris had to…to..

He did not kill them…he only scared them off…

“CYRIS?!” Astarion screamed “THE HELLS! They will come back!”, “they are like you…scared…and…hurt” he sighed.

Astarion was quiet…

The fight with Cazador…was a blur…

Blood stained his vision…

Was..was he down?...no he was up…was Starry ok?...yhea he’s up…wait…what’s he doing?

“Starry? What are you doing?” Cyris groaned, “Gale offered to help me do a ritual”, “STARRY! NO!” Cyris Screamed, “but Cyris think of the power I could wield!”, “What of them! What of the ones like you?....What of Sebastian?”

Astarion stopped, then glared and growled “200 years…”, “AND YOU’D SACRIFICE OTHERS TO MAKE YOURSELF LIKE HIM?” he snapped.

Cyris got up…his body hurt…he got up and turned to leave.

“Cyris?...CYRIS WHERE ARE YOU GOING?!”, “away from you…” Cyris glared at him “you said we could be better, you made me FEEL that I could be better, that I could have DIGNITY that I could BE ME AGAIN, I don’t need to chase power to make myself feel powerful…I have power…” he turned away “but I guess you lied…you lied like you always do…”.

“Cyris..” Astarion’s voice quivered, the word heavy in his throat “no…don’t leave me…please…”

But he was already walking away…

Cyris hit the bars in town and got piss drunk…then he hit the brothels and got his brains fucked out by two drow…then…he stole drugs from an apothecary shop…

He was so high he just sat there in the street…in the cold rain…letting the emptiness finally consume…

Every…

Last…

Piece…

Of…

Him…

Cyst wanted nothing more than to just…end.

To slip into oblivion…

He wished he NEVER met Astarion…

Cyris closed his eyes and readied himself for his heart to restart…it was going to be painful…

Cyris gagged and sputtered and vomited…

He was tired of this, tired of LIFE…

He looked at the bell tower…

Gods…the view…

If Cyris wasn't about to kill himself…he would be enjoying the sight…but right now…Cyris only had one thing on his mind…

“Enough fall damage will surely do me in?...one big splat?” he mumbled to himself…

As he got on the ledge…

“Oi…kid…whatcha doin?” a woman’s voice called to him, Cyrus turned around to see a young Halfling woman.

She had long red hair braided into an extremely long braid that wrapped around her waist like a belt, she wore a simple green dress and on her back was slung a shield…

Cyris grumbled to himself “the fuck do you care?” he hissed, she looked at him disapprovingly “would be ashamed of a fine young man’s life, come boy, sit with me and talk, tell me what ales your aching heart?” she sighed.

Cyris stepped back from the ledge…

“You wanna know? FINE”

“Yy boyfriend tells me we can be better, that we can improve ourselves. He makes me feel that I can…I can be the man I once was…before I was kidnapped by a hag and brutally torchered…but suddenly he wants to sacrifice 700,000 souls to make himself more powerful? To make himself what? a god?” Cyris lamented

“I…I thought…” he whimpered “I thought I could be me again, that I could feel love, feel happiness…myself becoming me again” he turned away “but I am wrong…”

He got up “I WISH I HAD NEVER BEEN BORN, I WISH YONDALLA HAD NEVER GIVEN ME TO MY MOTHER! I WISH TO HAVE MY NAME STRICKEN FROM THE BOOK OF LIFE!” he screamed…

“Hmm…you really wish I never led your mother to you?” the woman said.

Cyris froze.

He saw her for who she was…

“Y-yondalla? g-great grandmother?” his voice quivered frightfully…

“Oh don’t be frightened of me lad, I don’t bite” she got up and walked over to him “you are a good man…think of all the things you have done” she sat up “the good things”.

“You helped save innocent lives, you avenged countless others, you protected those who needed help” Yondalla smiled, “who cares what your boyfriend says, you make you and kid…you are a good man. You nurture, you care…you should go back and help him. Stop him from making a bad decision”

“It’s too late for that, I know he’s finished the ritual by now…” Cyris sobbed “I…I ran out on all of them…I know they are spawn. That no one give a flying fuck about them but I FUCKING DO. They had their lives taken from them! They deserve a second chance…” he sniffled “and he took that away…”

“Then…will you avenge them?” Yondalla said to him.

“...I…” Cyris thought about it, how much of a tyrant Astarion would become…

“I will..” he said as he got up “and I’am nipping this threat in the bud…”

[contreparry]

Hello Ann! This DADWC prompt gives me joy, and I hope it does for you too: "The scene that will give you the most joy". Joy all around!

After thinking about this for a while, I decided that I have to write my interpretation of The Joining for the Warden/Zevran modern!Thedas AU. So here it is, for @dadrunkwriting!

"You've got to do it," Alistair insisted. "We all did, it's your turn now." Alistair held up the ancient glass coffee pot. The dark sludge that might have once charitably been called coffee sloshed against the sides of the pot, a swirling whirlpool of black liquid that smelled bitter and burnt, as if it had been brewed yesterday morning and left out all day and night. Bran wrinkled his nose and leaned away from the proffered drink.

"No one drinks from that," he replied. He'd never seen anyone drink the coffee in the break room. Bran thought the machine was broken at first, but every once in a while he caught a whiff of the horrid scent of burnt coffee and- well, Bran didn't question it.

"Initiation ritual," Alistair replied. "We all did it. You work at The Warden, you drink Duncan's Forbidden Brew." Alistair set the pot down on the counter and reached into a cabinet for a coffee mug- the chipped one with the shop's logo emblazoned on the side. The royal blue and silver stripes gleamed under the fluorescent lights.

"It's drip coffee, not poison," Bran said as Alistair poured out the coffee. "I don't see the point." He hadn't understood the point when Alistair dragged him into the break room right before opening, and he hadn't understood why the others on duty were crowded around the doorway, peering in with curious gazes at the scene before them.

"Initiation ritual," Alistair repeated, as if that explained everything. "Okay, think that's everyone- ready?"

"We've got ten minutes until opening," Sigrun shouted. "So hurry up!"

"I'll call emergency services," Velanna muttered before she disappeared from view.

"Hey, it was just that one time-" Daveth complained, his voice rising into a whine. Bran's blood ran cold as he carefully reconsidered his options. Maybe he was wrong about Duncan's drip coffee not being poison. If it sent one of their number to the hospital-

"Guess we're ready, then!" Alistair said cheerfully, his booming voice drowning out the whispers and conversation. He cleared his throat, held the coffee mug out before him, and began to speak.

"Join us, brothers and sisters," he intoned slowly, as if he was repeating an ancient litany. "Join us in the shadows behind the register, where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty and inventory that cannot be forsworn. And should you perish behind the stacks, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten. And that one day we shall join you." Alistair raised the mug high above his head.

"In War, Victory," he announced solemnly.

"In Peace, Vigilance," Sigrun replied.

"In Death, Sacrifice," Velanna finished, even though she rolled her eyes when she said it.

"... this is a bookstore. You do know this is a bookstore, right?" Bran asked as Alistair offered the mug to him. Bran took it and gazed down into the pitch black liquid. Definitely bitter. The smell made the hairs on the back of his neck curl. The expectant eyes on him made Bran want to leave, but when he lifted his gaze to Alistair and his broad, encouraging smile, he found that he didn't have the heart to refuse him.

"Ugh, fine," Bran took a deep breath, lifted the mug to his lips, and chugged the coffee.

Fuck, it burned! It was a bitter brew, one that lingered on the tongue even after Bran swallowed it. Maybe the coffee hadn't been left out overnight. Maybe it had been left out for a month. His eyes watered and he'd probably never be rid of the vile taste of burnt coffee, but Bran didn't spit it out. He wiped his mouth with the back of his arm and handed the mug back to Alistair, whose smile was as bright as the sun.

"You're a Warden now, Bran Surana," Alistair announced proudly, and even though the coffee sludge burned his throat Bran grinned.

"Guess I am," he replied. He was a Warden of The Warden, bound by duty and ritual. It had a nice to ring to it.

[butch-with-a-deep-voice]

Scent

Having a sense of smell as strong as mine can be such a weird thing. It means I pick up on things others oft miss. I can tell when even a single flower in a bouquet has begun to rot. When my neighbor is cooking edibles I can tell if she's decided upon sativa or indica, as well as the type of medium, just from a passing whiff. I can even pick up on certain moods in people. Desire is such an intense scent once you realize what you're smelling, and it's remarkable how often people are just casually aroused.

I think that my sense of smell being as strong as it is crossed some wires in my brain. I jokingly refer to it as synesthesia, though I'm unsure if it would actually qualify. My brain creates emotional "scent profiles". It has nothing to do with how the people actually smell, but rather how they make me feel.

Everyone I get to know even a little gets one. Some stay stable and simple, others grow and change rather rapidly, turning into a complex perfume that many would never find pleasant even if I do.

My best friend is such a summer friend. His scent is a mixture of taco truck lime and pickled onions, clean sweat mixed with sunscreen, and the musty scent book pages get in humid 30°C weather.

My father, ever the walking stereotype of comforting male masculinity; his scent profile is of burnt coffee, cotton shirts fresh out of the dryer, and piles of sawdust and pine wood shavings after a day of carpentry.

Everyone gets a scent, and I have no say in how it develops. Some people will tell me it's "so romantic". To them I say consider yourself lucky that you aren't like my coworker who got a mixture of burnt printer ink and ozone. Sometimes though, they're right. Sometimes my brain is rather romantic with the scent profiles. Even if I didn't get an intentional say in the matter.

Her scent developed fast. Caught me by surprise how fast it got complex. It starts with the pungent iron-like scent of freshly drawn blood, only to be softened immediately by the incredibly sweet plum-like perfume of a rich madeira, before being rounded off beautifully by the faintest floral afternote of rose water. It's beautiful, and so fitting for who she is.

I really hope that it doesn't change.

It's a pleasant scent.