#the way the light reflects off the scales is so pleasant too

[spearxwind]

I purchased a little freak recently and I'm completely obsessed with him

[piraticusdorm]

Crocodile Tears

Content Warnings: Mentions of violence to a child, mention of drowning, light blood and gore

“Don’t come any closer! Monster!”

Conrad’s voice trembled as he screamed, sword drawn. Krok could only stare, stuck in place, as the man in front of him walked further backwards. The stance of a cornered animal, despite the beach around them having plenty of space to run away. The ticking of a clock reached all of the island, thumping inside Krok’s head like a heartbeat, each second painfully long.

“I can’t stand being around you any longer! No convenience is worth keeping you around!”

The words hit hard, harder than the wet projectile that just hit his face. A clawed hand touches his cheek, the smell of salt water stronger now. What falls from his face after a moment is a bundle of seaweed, still dripping.

“Monster! Stay away!”

Beautiful but hateful voices. Right, the mermaids around his home sounded like that. He learned to not get near the lagoons early on… but the mermaids sneering at him were now at sea. Something at the back of his mind nagged at him, too ambiguous to place.

“If I knew you’d turn out this way, maybe I would have kept you.”

A gargled voice, of shifting pitches, struggling to speak as blood pools in their lungs. A voice that couldn’t have existed. Krok turned to see it’s owner, stepping in something wet and soft in the process. 

The dry, pleasant sand of sand was changed into that of blood and guts sprawled around. He recognized some of the body parts strewn around. The fins of a giant great shark, the plucked out eyes of a multi-headed sea monster, the bioluminescent scales he tore off that deep sea beast, the clothes of glory seeking so called monster hunters… And opposite of Krok there stood the greatest beast of them all.

“No. Because I knew you’d end like this, I had to kill you first.”

The Monster of Skull Island.

That is, the one before Krok. A giant thing of tough scales and sharp claws, dark green scales blending seamlessly into the yellow bone of its skull, its eye socket long since empty and its long teeth promising as brutal a violence as it delivered in their prime. Whatever muscles and skin made their face, Krok had long since forgotten. Its skull was the only left over that stood the pass of time. 

“Ah. You tried, but I ate you, didn’t I?”

“You ate us all. A true monster.”

A choking noise follows. A laugh, Krok thinks, but an awful one. Like trying to recreate the song of a bird you’ve only read in books. 

“Just means your time was up. Isn’t that how nature works?”

Golden eyes cast downwards at the gore pooling around, unimpressed.The reflected light of iridescent scales catches his eye, long wavy hair now matted in blood. Mermaid meat is a rare delicacy, it makes sense she still stands out in his mind. Even if he can’t recall the taste of it. Krok lazily points a finger at her corpse.

“Trying to down a kid for no reason doesn’t make you a monster, then? She even came to my own home, you know…”

“That wasn’t the only choice.”

A pause. Krok let his hand fall in silence.

“Hey, isn’t that unfair? You know, it takes a monster to kill another. If I let her go she would just do it to other people. I need to protect the people I care about too-”

“It’s fun right?”

Bone can’t move, and a part of Krok knows that. But that is what the skull in front of him is doing, the corners have lifted upwards in a smile, the eyes sockets bending upwards in glee.

“Being the strongest. Being the monster above monsters. It’s so much fun. But I told you…”

“Huh…?”

“A monster is alone. That’s why it was you or me. That’s why those humans will leave you.”

Rouch clawed hands grab the sides of Krok’s face, harshly bringing him up to eye level. The emptiness of the eye sockets so up close makes Krok’s hair stand upright, animal instincts telling him to run, to trash, to fight and kill, to choose one now in order to survive. A nostalgic feeling. Then the hand turns his head, as if trying to snap his neck. In the distance he can see Conrad’s golden ship getting further and further away. Tears well in his eyes, and what small words he can say come out strained.

“If I had put a collar on like a good pet…”

The beast snorts, warm air passing over Krok as his shoulders slump with a sigh of his own. Memories, or fantasies, of his time together with the pirate crew, with the other students, and with the townspeople of ports flicker in his mind. 

“... that would be too boring.”

Smaller claws dig past the rough scales, tearing them off the flesh underneath. The hands drop Krok, who falls firmly on his feet. The tears finally fall, flowing free despite the small smile on his lips growing wider by the moment.

“I like it when I can tear pieces of shit like you down. What’s wrong with that? You’re the same, so it’s fine, right? Right!? It’s fun to have strong prey!”

That was something he noticed after staring at that skull for so long. Its teeth were made to sink into flesh and not let go. Kork’s sharper teeth were made for tearing flesh, taking away chunks and letting blood spray free. The feeling of hard scales giving way into soft meat, the warmth of blood in a living being, it all flowed back as he bit the larger crocodile piece by piece. 

“Hunting the weak is no fun, you know? I only wanna fight monsters. I don’t want to hold back, I want to tear them up as much as I want, I want them to bite me back, I want to bash them in, I want that rush-”

Heavy, labored breaths mix into a laugh. Krok’s tongue peaks out, licking a mix of blood and tears off the corners. Copper and blood, as comforting and familiar as any taste can be. 

“If I was boring Conrad wouldn’t want me~ And everyone else should know better. They’re too weak, they're too pitiful to eat. So it’s fine. I definitely won’t harm them.”

The gargling of the beast beneath him is getting weaker as more blood spills forth.

“I’m not like you or her. I’m a true monster.”

.

..

…

The rays of sunlight enter the room filtered by the ocean. The underwater room lights up in a calming blue, golden eyes looking at the reflections in the ceiling.

Krok's limbs pop in a satisfying way when he stretches. As if on cue a small, perfectly round gem rolls from beneath the pillow. It's vibrant green hue reminds Krok of his own scales. Other lizard folk he met always had darker and muted scales... Even that one...

“Hm… I was so small back then. I wonder how big you really were?”

[timothystillopf1]

Photoshop, Session 1 - Homework Task

This week we were tasked with taking everything we had learned in our session and applying it ourselves to our own images. I am quite confident in this task as I have quite a bit of experience in photo editing although, not in Photoshop! So although I am confident I am equally excited to put these new methods to the test!.

I began with this image that I took recently at Auckland zoo. After converting it from a RAW colour image into a Black and White JPEG, it was time to begin. I chose this image as it was taken through glass which unfortunately resulted in quite a blown-out and over-brightened image which felt like the perfect image to practice using the Curves tool.

I began by pulling the bottom left node of the Curves Histogram to the right in order to bring more of the darkness into the image and give it more depth/contrast against the hard whites of the glass reflections.

Next, I then placed nodes across the line and first began dragging the light (top right area) parts downward, again, in an attempt to combat the glare coming off of the glass and to try and give more definition of the zoo keeper who was also masked by the glare. moving down the line I continue pulling the nodes downward trying to darken the image while trying to maintain all the information within the image and also tone down the contrast in order to produce a pleasant to-the-eye image. After this I feel I had achieved what I had set out to do, turning the previously harshly bright and almost unreadable image, into a more digestible and crisp image. I feel I were to change anything, I may have maybe brightened it just that wee bit more but even with that in mind, I think I have achieved my goal and have come out with something I am happy with.

Next on my list was also from my recent trip away to Auckland Zoo of an Alligator. I chose this image because unlike the first, there aren't too many defects to fight within it, aside from the water glare, but I'm hoping by using the Curves tool I can bring out more of the white tones while trying to maintain definition under the water while also beefing up the black tones to make a more powerful, textured, contrasted, black and white working.

Unlike before, I began by bringing both corners of the histogram closer to where the activity of the histogram was to get a gauge of how these shades were going to cooperate. This produced results very close to what I intended but there are definitely still some issues to iron out. The lighting on the scales of the subject is almost the way I want them to be yet they are just a tad too bright and the details of the subject underwater are not quite as visible as I'd like them to be.

The changes I achieved seem subtle when compared to the previous image but as we were shown during our session, in some cases, just slight adjustments need to be applied to achieve your desired result. I managed to adjust the Curves in a way that I was able to accentuate the submerged parts of the subject adding depth to the image. I was also able to achieve the desired amount of contrast between the lights and darks not just overall but also on the back of my subject. Overall I feel I have achieved my goal.

For this next image, I aim to use both the Curves, Hue/Saturation, and Colour Balance tools in order to breathe more color and life into the image. This image is reminiscent to me of a National Geographic image and I aim to edit it as such.

Beginning with Curves, unlike the Black and White images I was editing, there wasn't too much to do with this tool let alone much I could do as it wasn't very hard to start losing the information within the image. My main goal in using Curves was to bring down the brightness of the sky in the top right corner and bring up the shadows within the image to better highlight my subject matter, some changes may need to be made but for now, I move on to Hue/Saturation.

again making very minor adjustments with this tool, by using the Hue slider, I managed to bring out the orange/brown tones on my subject matter and the tree branch it is perched on. I decided to leave it here with this tool for now as any more or any less starts to drastically change the colours across the board leaving me with an undesirable effect. In saying this I think in comparison to the original message, I think I have managed to breathe a bit more colour into the overall image but I'm still not happy with the overall colour. Time for Colour Balance!

Making small adjustments, I start by tweaking the Mid-tones, moving the sliders into the warmer ends of the spectrum to try and knock out the blue tones within the image. In turn, I ended up adding more colour to my subject which, I this case, I don't seem to mind for the time being given.

the adjustments I made to the Shadows, by accident, returned me with an aesthetic akin to an old colour film still which I found quite pleasurable. Even though I was trying to add more warmth to the image, I am quite pleased with this effect. Typically when I edit my main intention is to get it more to how I would have seen it in person when I took the photo and tend to stay away from stylized editing. This has opened my eyes a little bit and is something I am going to lean into more while editing this image.

And lean in I certainly did. I decided to test the sliders' capabilities and dragged them in multiple different ways, giving me this. While it is now warmer as I originally intended, I feel it still gives off this old colour film still sort of feel which I'm still loving. As unexpected as this outcome has been, I do feel that it is slightly too dramatic for my taste and I will now go back and do some tweaking to try and make a slightly more organic image while attempting to maintain this Film-esque vibe I have created.

after going back through and making some re-adjustments, this is my final result. Funnily enough, it has come out as somewhat of a combination of both of the above images creating a colour contrast between the shadows (blue) and the Highlights (yellow) that I find quite pleasing and fits my intention of the old style, film-esque feel I was inspired to achieve.

moving away from animals, my next image was taken in the New Market Mall in Auckland. I wanted to choose something more environmental and without a main focus point to give me more to account for/be aware of while editing. right away I know I want to make it more dramatic by accentuating the shadows and highlighting the lights within them. I really like the tone of the image already so colour changes may not need to be made but I'm sure I'll find a way to incorporate it as it may end up adding to my image come the end result.

I found curves very useful in this image. Immediately I was able to intensify the light coming through the ceiling creating this great texture and colour I was not anticipating. The lights hidden in the shadows were a bit tricky to work around with curves as it was very tempting to just make it as dark as possible but it made things look and feel quite unnatural.

I pulled up the Exposure tool to balance out the darks and lights in the image by adjusting the Exposure and Gamma Correction sliders which added to the intensity of the blacks and whites within the image. I'm really happy with this image now but as I learned in the previous edit, It's always good to experiment and try everything!

as a result of adjusting the Hue in this image, I managed to bring out more of the colour in the wood and turn the white light from the ceiling into a more of a blue shade which has left me with a colour palette I find quite pleasurable.

adjusting the Shadows in the Colour Balance tool allowed me to creat an overall feeling for the image. By moving the Colour sliders again to the cooler ends of the spectrum, I was met with a cold flow that matched the light coming from above while not disturbing the reds/magentas in the wood paneling.

Adjusting the Highlights within the colour balance tool allowed me to 'purify' the original colour palette i was working with before using this tool. I was able to work more with the reds/magentas making them stand out more through the blues/cyans aswell as make a more natural and more calm blue from the lights above.

This is my final result. I feel that with all the layers used in the editing process, I may have lost a little bit of detail in the overall image yet overall I am pleased with how it has turned out! I enjoyed this task. Applying what we had learned in class to these images has encouraged me to go a bit more out there with my editing, play with everything and see how it all fits together! Through this, I have made some stylized images I otherwise wouldn't have done using my normal editing process and I look forward to applying this in the future. In saying that, I can definitely see photoshop becoming a more regular tool in my tool belt. not as a replacement but as an alternative. To give different feelings to images. I did find there were times during this task when I would have found Lightroom more useful But nonetheless, I still find Photoshop I useful asset in Photography.

[dreamrecorder]

The words we keep

Soulmate au - first words tattoed on the wrist

Includes: Venti | Diluc | Kaeya | Albedo | Zhongli | Xiao | Childe

Mentions of suicide in Zhongli; angst and brief violence for Childe

Oh you're here- I mean! I'm sorry I didn't mean to take your spot!

The bard had guessed that he'd meet his soulmate either in Angel's Share, in Windrise, or at the hands of his statue in Mondstadt. But the latter two were more unlikely. But he doesn't mind sharing his space with you really. In fact, Venti would be more than willing to let you in his space. But lo and behold! He didn't think he'd meet you at the hands of his statue!

Nights prior, you always heard a voice singing songs of various emotions. The voice eventually led you to Barbatos's statue. When you looked up, you saw the bard in green. His voice was very calming and pleasant to hear, so you always visited the statue at night. Until recently, your curiosity grew. Why does the bard always stay there at night?

Seeing your relaxed form on his statue, hair swaying in the wind. Venti just went soft. "Quite the lovely view isn't it?" 

He didn't mean to surprise but you still did become surprised. He found it endearing. "Oh you're here- I mean! I'm sorry I didn't mean to take your spot!"

Ah- you scared them. Please don't do that.

Now who did he scare and what did he do to warrant his soulmate's first words to him? Diluc has always been aware that he can be intimidating and usually he doesn't mind that. But for you- he does give half a mind.

There was a new winemaker that Connor had hired and Diluc has yet to meet them. Connor had even commented that their methods were a bit unusual. But if it's enough to get the former's approval, then Diluc will see to this newcomer.

Diluc met you during the night, just at the edges of the Stone Gate that signifies the border between Mondtsadt and Liyue. The man was simply patrolling around the area for any hidden dangers. That's when he saw you, kneeling on the ground with a group of slimes surrounding you. Seeing your plight, Diliuc quickly ran and summoned his greatsword. With a few swipes imbued with pyro, the slimes hastily retreated. He was about to chase them off, but he was more concerned of your safety.

Diluc was about to speak when you cut him off as you stood up, dusting your clothes. "Ah- you scared them. Please don't do that."

Diluc was dumbstruck for a second. He did not expect to meet his soulmate right here right now. Seeing his stupefied look, you raised a brow. "Are… you alright, Sir Diluc?"

"Those slimes were about to attack you." Diluc pointed out. His reply made you chuckle a bit and shake your head to the sides. Did he say anything funny?

"No they were not. I was trying to befriend them so that I could use their slime concentrations for the winery."

Now Diluc was even more confused. Slime? For tbe winery? "Wait- you're the new-"

"Winemaker. And your soulmate if you're not yet aware. Come on, let's go look for those slimes! We can talk on the way about our… professional and not-so professional side of our relationship." And with that, you trailed to the path of the slimes with a smile on your face. As for the wine tycoon, he was still confused- like a lost puppy, but there was this gentle smile that landed on his lips as he followed you.

Yes, I am suffering and in need of a Pyro Vision. Soulmate or not, if you don't have a Pyro Vision- shoo.

The text tattooed on Kaeya's wrist always left him laughing. He just knows, that this was meant to be a comical moment. He can even imagine the moment he meets his soulmate just from these words alone. But of course, he does worry about your well-being. Kaeya had his guesses. Maybe he would meet you in Dragonspine or maybe- you were an unprepared tourist enduring the permafrost of Snezhnaya and he'd meet you there. Well- in the end, he's still amused at your winterish pain.

Sure enough, Kaeya was tasked to scout Dragonspine for any Fatui activity. He could feel it under his skin that he'll meet you any second now. As he traversed through the mountain path, he noticed a group of warming seelies hovering over… someone? And that someone is shivering immensely. The captain grinned.

You heard footsteps approaching but you stayed in your crouched position, determined to preserve your body temperature. The seelies were helping, sure, but they were not enough to counter the coldness your Cryo Vision emanates. Damn it. Just because you're a cryo user doesn't mean you're immune to sheer cold.

The footsteps stopped and you snorted at the words the stranger spoke, "Could this possibly be my soulmate suffering in the cold and in need of a Pyro Vision?"

You huffed, you didn't want to meet your soulmate in this kind of situation. But it happened anyway, much to your dismay. Still crouched, you managed to turn to face the man as seelies continued hovering around.

"Yes, I am suffering and in need of a Pyro Vision. Soulmate or not, if you don't have a Pyro Vision- shoo."

Now actually hearing it from you made Kaeya laugh hard. If he was already amused just from the ink on his wrist before, Kaeya's now even more so deeply amused. You muttered sadist on his way. Deciding he's had enough a good laugh for today, the captain gave you his fur coat and a warming bottle. "Come on, let's get you some place warm, yes?"

You're not the only one! I actually did one for you, too!

When his mind is not occupied by hus studies, it would often drift ink embedded on his wrist. Everytime Albedo does so, he would often wonder what did the two of make for each other that would lead to you eventual meeting.

The Windblume Festival arrived, and of course, so will tourists from other lands. Usually, Albedo would simply pay no heed to the ongoing festivities and their participants. But this time- things were different. You unknowingly caught the alchemist's eye. There was this sudden itch in his hands- and Albedo knew he had to sketch you form. However, before he could even approach you- you left to another direction.

He caught sight of you again the next day. You were reading a book on a bench, with the plaza fountain giving you a beautiful background for Albedo. Discreetly, the alchemist sat on a bench front of yours and began sketching. Unbeknownst by him, you were also entranced by his form and you, too, began sketching.

Albedo was first to finish- and like usual, he would give the sketch to the person he drew of even if they were strangers. As he walked, there was this certain nervousness that found way in his stomach. This never happened before. Why was he nervous?

Once close enough, Albedo cleared his throat and handed you his sketch, "I know this seems suspicious, but I want you to have this. You have a wonderful form."

You'd be lying if you said your heart did not stop a beat at his words. When you saw the paper he was offering you, you gasped at how he caught every detail of you. Bashful, you tore the page you were drawing on from sketchbook and gave it to him.

"You're not the only one! I actually did one for you, too!"

When your words reached his ears, Archons bless you as he gave you a genuine and joyful smile.

Please... don't touch my heart that wants to disappear.

When Zhongli fully embraced his mortal form, he didn't expect the universe to gift him a soulmate. Like a snake, ink slithered into words that gave his heart a certain sadness. Zhongli knew, you were suffering somewhere... Out there...

He saw you first at the highest peak of Guyun Stone Forest. Everything happened so quickly. One second he was watching your distant form from the beaches below then the next he knew- his heart dropped, the same way you willingly fell to the hands of death that waited in the sea. The archon did what he knew is right- and that is saving you.

To Zhongli, immoratlity can both be a blessing and a curse. When your skins touched, he knew you were of immortality. He could sense it. And he could also sense the tiredness that nest in your soul from the burden of immortality.

Once Zhongli landed on safe ground, that's when he spoke. "I won't ask why, however is this truly what you want?"

The way his words reflected the ink written on your wrist made you open your eyes wide. When the realization sank in- that this man is your soulmate, you began crying. You were tired of life- but this man- this man is now your lock away from your want for death. If you stayed with him- another cycle of seeing the people you love come and go.

"Please..." you begged, "don't touch my heart that wants to disappear..."

Your voice was sad and pleading- but Zhongli was a stubborn man, just like his element. He wanted to help you but not by giving your death. He wanted you to see life in a new light, hopefully with him by your side.

Excuse me... Here- for you. Qingxin.

Xiao was always resolute in his resolve that he has no need of a soulmate deemed by the universe. However, there are times that he would let his mind flutter around the concept. Specifically, around the words elegantly written on his wrist and his soulmate. Xiao would question why would you give him qingxin flowers in the first place. Other than that, there was also this underlying worry in his thoughts about you and the qingxin flowers. These flowers... they can only be gathered on high stone peaks. What if you slipped and fall?

This leads Xiao to have days where he just spends his time at the peaks of Jueyun Karst, looking out for any foolish person scale mountains just for qingxin. It's not because he's worried about you no- Xiao just doesn't want anyone die under his protection over Liyue. There has already been too much deat-

"Excuse me..."

At the voice, Xiao's head whipped to your direction with eyes wide in surprise.

"Here- for you. Qingxin."

There was this bored look in your face, but Xiao could see the worry in your eyes. Worry? Were you worried about him? Xiao frowned at the thought but still took the flowers from your outstretched hand.

"Foolish mortal... you could have gotten yourself hurt. Climbing peaks just for qingxin..."

... But still a small smile graced his lips and your heart melted.

"Thank you."

You're the only person I recognize whose eyes resemble the deep blue ocean.

The words tattooed on his wrist always left Childe questioning about his soulmate and what led them saying these words. Somehow- imagining the possible scenarios always makes him melt. This string of words- it never fails him to bring a sense of comfort in his heart. Childe learns of yoir existance during a mission.

The mission was to assasinate a captain of the Knights- you. He observed you for days and took note how you're silent and alone for the most part but kind to the people who approach you- he almost feels bad for having to kill you. The day came when he had to kill you. It was supposed to be a quick kill- but he should know better. You were a captain for a reason, so you fought back. However, in the end, Childe was stronger as he wrap his hands around your fragile neck. Another second, he'd have you dead- until a child's voice cut through- your little brother. The way your eyes watered up at the sight of your only family. Seeing the hurt in your eyes, Childe's thoughts went overdrive- No- nonononono way I'm killing in front of a kid- He simply can't- he was reminded of his little brother, too. With a wavering will to disobey orders, Childe let you go and retreated to the night,

"Don't think this is the last time you'll see me."

Like a shattering glass- the words he uttered made your heart shatter like glass...

Childe saw you again, this time in Liyue. When your gazes meet- there was a shock that passed through with tension suddenly gripping your necks. Childe swore he hid much of his identity physically that night- but he knew you recognized him. He managed to corner you in Yuehai Pavillion by swooping into an empty seat right in front of you. There was a tense moment and an oppresive air. He noticed how your hands were ready to grab your weapon. "How did you recognize me?"

You carefully thought of your words. And when you did reply, Childe have never felt so much despair until today. "You're the only person I recognize whose eyes resemble the deep blue ocean."

Back before he knew you- these words always comforted Childe- but now? Childe felt chills in his spine as despair clouded his mind. Why would the universe decide to have person he was supposed to kill his soulmate.

Similarly, his heart also shattered.

A/N: Look!!! I got meself some banners ksks---- this is all Childe's fault rawr

[undead-merman]

Heyo! I loved your headcanons for the brothers and Simeon as sirens, they were a truly *chef kiss*. Can we also have siren Barbatos and Diavolo? Yandere too and sfw, please!

Thanks in advance!

I'm always down to write Aquatic monsters.

🧜‍♂️Siren Diavolo and Barbatos🧜‍♂️ as a yanderes GN- reader SFW

Diavolo

Appearance

Diavolo is much, much larger than other sirens. While sirens grow to be about a foot or two bigger than humans, Diavolo is massive, fifteen feet long and with tons of bulk and muscle to match his massive size. He looks more similar in size to a giant than a siren.

Despite his size he is dazzling in the sun. When his crimson hair catches beams of light he looks divine, almost like a holy glow surrounds him as he rests on the rocks. His tail is the same stunning red as the blood red sunset and has a bright pearlescent. His scales are just as reflective and polished as a bright red sports car. His skin is deeply kissed by the sun, making his skin look smooth and shiny. His nightshade red fins are long and butterfly shaped; they trail slightly behind him like silk.

He wears all kinds of jewels and golds, all of them perfectly fit around his skull and fins. They drift perfectly around his large frame and glimmer even in the smallest amount of light.

Diavolo is the only siren able to keep his glamor up even if he’s excited, in the water, or even angry. He has full control over it and only shifts to it when he’s actively trying to strike fear into something or someone. His true form is like that of sea monsters in folktales, monstrous in size and able to take a ship down into the dark depths of the open ocean, to swallow whole crews, and create winds and storms as he lets out a devilish scream which can be heard for hundreds of miles around.

Royalty amongst Loners and Sunken Hideaway

Despite their lone lifestyles, only really enjoying the company of their mates, most Sirens look to Diavolo as more of a god than any type of king or prince despite having the title of prince. They worship his power and bow down to his whims and needs. They bring him tributes in the form of small treasures and Diavolo returns these gifts with blessings of more intoxicating songs, stronger wills, his watchful eye and protection, or just overall greater strength. Diavolo seems to freely give these boons no matter how small the gift.

Since he’s a well known and well visited siren, he’s built his home in the sunken ruins of a castle in a city whose culture and history has died long ago. It’s well taken care of by servants who have pledged their lives to Prince Diavolo and are surprisingly pleasant and tolerable with one another. They equate this to Diavolo’s power and grace but only those who are truly loyal to Diavolo stay here.

His voice can bring either madness or blessings and can be the most beautiful thing your ears could ever hope to hear or one so evil, devious, and grotesque you’re driven into a hypnotic bloodlust to those with even the strongest wills. His lullabies sound so melancholic.

He hides away in a large garden which has its own open air biosphere bathed in light by a glass ceiling which has yet to crack yet bathes the whole garden in a beautiful light. A single golden curly willow grows in the center with dozens of flowers growing around it. Here the air is surprisingly fresh and floats on the surface never touching the water around it like it’s a time capsule. He’ll lounge here to clear his head watching the butterflies that have grown here, alone and have never seen the outside.

Spending time with you

You and only you heard his song and wept. The feelings of his loneliness tugged at your heart instead of your head being filled with euphoric thoughts of power and blessings or instantly pounding through your skull until you screamed. You truly heard his song, understood the lyrics behind them and felt the way he did when he sang them. When he saw your face littered with tears and face hot with sympathy for him he felt his whole body go numb. You were something special, someone truly remarkable. He needed to know more about you.

And so started a passion in his heart to learn everything about you, your traditions, your light quirks, your hobbies and everything he could possibly learn. It sent him down a rabbit hole of studying humans that he refused to climb out of and gladly let swallow him if it just allowed him to get closer to you and understand you better.

He doesn’t mind what form you see him in, as long as he can see you he’s thrilled and happy. He’ll approach you like a dog, his tail swishing excitedly as he asks you questions he formed in his head from the day. He has to be careful in his true form otherwise he can cause a lot of damage to the nearby area and draw too much attention to you two.

He loves to pick you up and hold you, be in his true form or not and travel with you on his back, or when his true form shows in his hands or on his head as he intentionally kicks up some water to playfully mist you. Moments like these make him forget he was ever even alone to begin with.

If you ever wanted to see some kind of sea creature or visit some island he’s happy to oblige bringing the creature over with his divine rule over the ocean or happily just takes you there one day while making you cover your eyes to surprise you. The look on your face makes his heart swell so much he almost feels like it will jump out of his mouth if he’s not careful.

Dark Tendencies

Diavolo isn’t against using others to get what he wants, he'll ruin everything for anyone or anything to get what he wants. He’ll destroy small islands and wipe out ports so nothing can distract you from dates he takes you on.

If he feels like you aren’t close enough to him or are drifting away from him, for some reason or another, he’s simply going to just pluck you away from your old life so you don’t have any excuse to be away from him anymore. You're his now, you don’t have to worry about that silly stuff anymore, both of you can be together now. Why not just get married now? It would be much easier. Siren’s don’t marry, they just pick a mate but he’s willing to put the frills on it for you and your human ways. He finds it cute!

He doesn’t ever connect the dots if you struggle against him or plead for him to let you go, he’s wrapped up in his own delusions of you being a happy little couple that he’ll blame some outside force. If you go along with him he’ll remain peaceful and sweet.

He absolutely hates it when other sirens see you and while he’s not outwardly violent to them he is quite hostile. Grinding his teeth and asking them to look away from you while his tail twitches with the intent to lash out.

He gave you your own little haven to decorate, he gave you the garden all for your own. He even made sure to promise to give you your own space and privacy here, just as long as you come to his call. Don’t worry though, only you, him, and Barbatos know of this place, and you can’t run from him here!

Misc stuff

His scales shed infrequently since he doesn’t get into fights with other sirens since all of them know better. His scales are radiating with his power and are well known to bring massive good luck to all those Diavolo gives them to. He’s always giving you things made from his scales and he’s so thrilled to see you in them. He likes adding them to a circlet crown he had made custom just for you so you can match him. He plans on matching you to him with every little piece of jewelry, even down to matching rings.

He requires you to sleep with him. He can sleep out of the water perfectly fine and just pulls you into a lavish den he made for the two of you. It’s somehow unbelievably cozy sleeping with him. His body is warm and everything he set up is the best out there. He just holds you in his warm arms and nods off with you.

He’s quite a picky eater. He refuses to eat anything he doesn’t like and will only eat it if you so happen to beg him to, but only if you're insistent, otherwise he’s already slowly drifting away from it.

Barbatos

Appearance

For a siren he’s smaller than most. He’s quite slender and not much muscle to him, but despite his size, his appearance is perfect in every way, not a hair out of position, not a scale that isn’t out of polished or asymmetric, and his skin without a blemish or scar to be found. He takes a huge amount of time to groom himself perfectly.

His scales more resemble sea snakes, even having black stripes like them, though his tail is a solid dark seafoam green. He’s not especially radiant compared to others, but he doesn’t mind at all, he prefers to melt into the background more.

His tailfin is wide though, having a lyretail shape with black stripes going across it. It’s the same dark color as his scales and he has only two side fins but they look like long ribbons stretching from his hips to about halfway down his tail.

His glamor when melted away leaves behind an even darker looking creature. He looks like a stormy sea and is covered in nasty sharp thorns that don’t just stop at his elbows but lead down to his hips and thin yet long and sharp claws and stark black webbing in between without a tear or hole.

Serving Another

Serving the Royal Family was an honor his family was born with for generations and one he realizes the importance to. Diavolo is powerful enough to sink ships and cities and he provided some of that power and grace onto him rewarding him and his ancestors before him for loyalty, slowly turning Barbatos’s family into nearly just as powerful creatures as him.

He enjoys watching the whims of a child like god try to make sense of a kingdom, it's good fun to see him enjoying his life he is able to live vicariously through his high energy.

He puts his all into everything he does, he hates wasted efforts so he does everything he can into what he does but it gets tiring. Sometimes when trying to sleep, he finds himself unable. He’s always had poor sleep but he’s dealt with it for so long now that it's normal for him now. He starts his morning eating a small slice of kelp known for reducing head pain, all while preparing for the morning.

Spending time with you

If Diavolo took an interest in a human then you certainly had to be interesting. Well when he met you and saw you drinking tea with a huge Diavolo stretched around the floating garden. He just knew you were a human with a soul like no other.

He often brings you your favorite beverages and chats with you, simply at first to get to know you but he found you captivating, each word you spoke he held onto like it was the last he would ever hear and it was gospel. He smiles as you recall old memories, describing how you ended up here. The way you phrased things was unlike anything he had ever heard.

He’s taken the time to find old waterlogged books that were left abandoned in the old library and help restore them for you to read. Inside you find wondrous and fantastical stories of this old kingdom all of them enthralling, and as you read he’s happy to bring you a beverage once more and enjoy your company even if it’s in silence.

Once he’s grown closer with you he often finds himself giving you lingering touches as he pats your shoulder for your attention or grazes his hand on yours when delivering food to you. He even says the most romantic and poetic things to you without even noticing. He falls in love slowly but deeply and almost innocently. He just treasures your time and you as a person, never judging or doubting you.

There was a day when he had pulled you into a parting hug, wishing you a goodnight as Diavolo would return you to the surface but he had simply fallen asleep in your arms. Even Diavolo was shocked as he had never done anything close to something like this. It turns out Barbatos is at the most ease when he’s with you. All of his sleepless nights had just suddenly caught up with him.

Dark Tendencies

His love quickly shifts one day when he see your finger pricked by a stray thorn from a wild flower and as he wiped up the blood with a handkerchief and sees those butterflies fluttering around the wound to drink the blood he realised just how fragile you really were and how nature and life take advantage of that as soon as it could. He couldn’t take losing you. So one day he calls you and just takes you. You think it's just another visit with Baratos fetching you but he takes you to a deep and dark underground cave. Soft phosphorus moss grows all over in cushioned patches and with every step it glows brighter under your feet.

He explains it all to you, openly and honestly but no matter how you plead or try to reason with you, he believes you need to be down here forever. Away from the outside world that would care so little for the death of you and move on like nothing were to happen. He wanted you safe, around and immortalized; he'll never forget you.

He provides you with an array of pleasantries that would have no chance of harming you. He’s damn near baby proofed the small cave but he ensures it's as comfortable as it can be, bringing you three meals a day, all of your favorite drinks and snacks even if you fight him or give him the silent treatment he’s never neglectful of your needs. He believes one day you’ll come to see how much he did for you and understand he just wants you safe.

Misc stuff

He’s a clean freak and refuses to let you sleep on dirt or muck, he’ll thoroughly wash the moss through and treat it so it feels like you're walking on clouds without feeling any slime, having bugs, or being dirty. It's so well taken care of that they look fake.

He hates crabs. He hates those distasteful bottom feeders, their disgusting pinchers and empty eyes. He’s sure to keep them as far away as he can, if startled by one he slams it with his tail with enough force to turn it into little pieces and he’s still frightened by them despite the power difference.

[oneoftheprettynerds]

Belle Of The Ball: Dark! King! Steve Rogers x Reader

A/N: So this my first ever proper dark fic and I’m so nervous. I finished it but my mind thinks it’s garbage. so I’m gonna post this now when I’m feeling a random spurt of courage and am confident in my work. So here’s my masterpiece, cookies.

This is for Dark!MCU  Festive Fic swap hosted by @darkficsyouneveraskedfor  and @darkmcuficswap

My giftee is @hermesmaximoff Hope you enjoy it love!

Thanking @firefly-graphics for the dividers: both personalised and general.

There is also an amateur somewhat okay shitty poster I decided to make which is included at the end.  

WARNING: THIS IS A DARK FIC CONTAINING DUBIOUS CONSENT BORDERING NON-CON AND EXPLICIT SMUT. YOUR MEDIA CONSUMPTION IS YOUR RESPONSIBILITY. LOSS OF VIRGINITY, ABUSE OF AUTHORITY, BREEDING KINK ALSO PRESENT.

Summary: Invited to the Royal ball by the benevolent monarch, you could barely control your excitement to visit the Capital. While you were busy admiring his prosperous reign, King Steve was quite occupied getting enamoured by you. As you try to fulfil the King’s demands, secrets find their way out.

CHARACTERS + GENRE: DARK!STEVE ROGERS X READER, SUPERNATURAL STEVE ROGERS X READER (read to find out what), ROYAL AU, HALLOWEEN THEME (I tried for the request, hope you do like it)

King Steve Rogers invites the princes and the princesses of all Kingdoms, near and afar,

To celebrate his several years of reign.

He requests thy kind and noble presence

At the joyous regale

of his auspicious ball

On the thirty first of October,

after sundown, in His Majesty’s finest castle.

Challenging thy with the unique theme of

A Halloween Masquerade Ball,

The King expects exceptional indulgence from all.

 The Most Grandiose Halloween Celebration is being organised with the spookiest of events within.

Come here if you dare.

“We have been invited to a royal party! My day couldn’t have been better!” Your elder sister exclaimed, jumping quite unladylike in your chambers, as you went through the details of the venue. You chuckled at her antics, knowing rather well that she would be scolded if someone else was present. 

“Emma, Mother has to approve first. As Lady Ava always says, don’t count your chickens before they hatch.”

“As if mother would really decline an invite from the King, dear sister.” She rolled her eyes at you, not letting her enthusiasm die as you pondered over her words.

Your sister had a point though, the King summoning your presence was not to be taken lightly. The invitation came up handwritten in a scroll with the King’s wax seal atop it. It was placed elegantly beside a golden mask in a rectangular black box, that bore the Majesty’s sigil on the front.  

The theme of the ball wasn’t that peculiar if you reflected over it, the renowned monarch was also recognised for his distinct interest in eerie, unearthly beings. He was known for adventuring into haunted lands, mysterious manors and sinister soils, meeting up with people rumoured to be sorcerers and occultists.

Of course, the reason for his encounters was sometimes rumoured to be because of his familial distress, how he couldn’t find a mate to procreate with and conceive his own heir no matter what. Three females, who were pregnant with a progeny of his blood, none his wife though, had died during the first two or tercet months, reason unspecified why.  

Coming to You, you and your sister weren’t actual princesses, rather the daughters of one of the esteemed Ministers in the King’s cabinet. The benevolent King, however referred to the daughters of the town, more exactly, the Kingdom, as noblewomen. He held high reverence for the females and was the sole creditor to the improved condition of the women in this era. No matter how troubled his own life was, the King was the most merciful royal to be crowned to date, his people prospering under him.

Your sister nodded eagerly to your mother, drinking in her words like the fine tea you all had in the afternoons, while you just smiled at her advice.

 When you both met your mother for dinner, you were surprised to find her already informed about the invitation. Her conformity to the celebration astonished you even more, but Emma’s zeal was starting to rub off on you too by the end of the meal. 

Your mother continued, “Your father mentioned The Majesty is looking for a wife, quite possibly. He has been insistent in trying to get a successor the correct way this time, by courting the lady who piques his interest. Even though this might be a rumour, or some gossip spun by the ladies of the Cabinet, you both should try your best to be graceful and presentable. Among the hundreds of guests, he’d be having over, on the off-chance, if Gods allow, that either of you manages to entice him, it will only promise you the most pleasant of all forthcomings. It would also do me and your father some good, if you managed to find some other suitable bachelor, from a nice background to engage with.”

Your sister had always been one with the more overactive imagination out of you two, while you had been the more serene and poised one. When she’d be out playing with the children in your town, you’d be talking to the younger toddlers, drawing with chalks on the side. For every kid she splashed with water in the nearby sapphire river, you made tots flower crowns. These were the values you both grew up with, and these will be the values you’d die with.

After days of shopping velvet fabrics and silk textiles, and bothering your seamster to make sophisticated and stylish dresses, you both neared your day of departure. After some instructions to you both to represent your father and town well, your mother bid you adieu. It was nerve wracking to not have your mother by your side, for an event as big as this was, but since you both had passed more than twenty name days, you were expected to be proper, independent ladies. 

With a heavy heart and some self, positive affirmations, you and your sister embarked on the voyage, which was filled with her chitchat.

You only hoped that the gala was as exciting as your family made it out to be. That it was just a King trying to celebrate his sovereign with some western festival integrated together. That the event would not be as unnerving and creepy as the last line of his invitation made it out to be. 

For some unknown cause, it did not sit well with you. Your apprehensive intuition made you wary of the invitation for some reason, but you let your sibling’s zest take you over. What benefit would fretting get you?

The ball was far more pompous than anything you’d have imagined in your little head. All the ideas that Emma had come up with during your journey, to anticipate the extent of extravagance for the ball, were all exceeded with tenfold finesse. You had travelled to faraway, distant lands with your parents, but the King’s mansion, with all the festivity happening, was truly a sight to behold.

Entering The Capital had been the highlight of your excursion, you were sure earlier, but well you were proved wrong. Your father greeted you both when you had arrived, eager to see his angels after almost six moons, and had ensured you both got the best of the accommodations in the well-built, enormous fort. He introduced you to several of his comrades as well as their brooding, young lads and then, left you both to rest for the main event next eve. With two maids at your every beck and call, courtesy of your father, your time went smoothly and now you found yourself at the said Halloween themed celebration, staring around in awe of every little detail that had been so meticulously handled to make the event as dazzling as it was.

The servants were dressed rather ridiculously as cats, wearing some bizarre structure resembling cat ears, horribly short black dresses barely past their thighs and some whiskers draw using either coal or makeup, you weren’t sure. It was a poor attempt to make them appear feline. However, the food was as immaculate as everything else, entirely themed like only blood red wine, candied apples, chicken pumpkins, cheesecake brain, mummy muffins, some appetizer with bell peppers as jack-o-lanterns; these were the few that met your sights.

The hall was so grand, almost the size of three jousting arenas and playing fields combined with pillars having detailed architecture supporting the place. The walls were covered in scarlet, golden and black velvet drapes, the royal colours, and beautiful masquerade masks were pinned atop them, along the walls. Almost hundred round, white clothed tables filled the ballroom, with gold plated candlesticks and utensils upon them. The entire place had entertainers progressing around, the essence of it being magicians, clowns, contortionists, palm and tarot card readers. 

In the centre of the hall, was an empty space, reserved for the soon to be ensuing dancing. An orchestra on the side had beautiful instruments, playing soft melodies for now, reserving the upscale beats for later.

You had only read a few books on Halloween to be prepared but nothing could have geared you up for this. Your small-town self was gaping at everything with a childlike wonder while somehow your sister was quite composed and calm, somehow your roles had been reversed. 

Emma was wearing a blue gown, having several layers of nets and cloth, each a different shade of azure. She tried to dress as the mythical creature called mermaid, with crystal heels and a beaded neckline. Her masquerade mask had scales like fish, made using shining sequins. She looked so gorgeous, truly managing to look captivating.

You on the other hand were dressed like an angel, which you were against, finding it too mainstream and typical and wanted to dress like an enchantress with violet and jade colours, which your mother immediately negated. On demand of your sister, she let you wear a fluffy white ball gown, and had you made wings with dove feathers, an apparatus which was astonishingly light to wear. Using her art and craft skills, Emma made you a headband with two wires attached to a metal ring, shaped like an angel’s halo. The loop at top made of some special metal that glowed golden in the dark, making it look like a real, floating halo. Your mask had a fur lining on it, and silver sparkles were sprinkled all over you, with pretty makeup on your face, courtesy of your sibling.

The change in music brought you out of your reverie, as trumpets and harps began to hum, signifying the arrival of the King on the grand staircase. He had a crimson red velvet cape descending his broad shoulders, his tuxedo underneath could hide neither his long legs nor his bulging, protruding biceps. His black, shining shoes cost more than your entire apparel, you were certain. 

As your gaze ascended his masculine form, you were mesmerised furthermore with his high cheekbones, full lips tainted cherry pink, a Grecian slanting nose, sleek eyebrows, luscious blonde hair, a thick beard and the best of all yet, cerulean blue eyes, the prettiest you’d ever seen in the entirety of your small life. The ladies beside you, Emma included, had the same reaction whether they had witnessed his Highness before or not. Every female’s gaze seemed to flicker between his azure eyes and the Golden crown resting atop his blonde locks, flooded with rubies and emeralds and gemstones you weren’t sure your books had.

For a moment you felt his eyes land on you, which surprised you even more so, that you questioned yourself about it, but his cheeky grin and wink confirmed it, make you shiver involuntarily as heat spread through your face while a titillating stir ran through you, a first for you. His impeccably white teeth were clearly visible now, showing two elongated canines, which finally gave you a sense of his attire, paired with his blush lips, A Vampire.

He spoke a few words, eyes unsteadily wavering, observing different members of the gathering. He let the dances commence, partnering with his most suitable match at the festivity, the daughter of the wealthiest lord. After the first song was over, other couples joined alongside him while you stood at the side, observing everything. Only mere moments ago had your sister been courted by a young man, the two of them shooting each other coy glances since they had entered. 

A tap on your shoulder had you puzzled, you turned around focus landing on warm, brown eyes. You recalled him to be Lord Stark’s son, Peter, having met him yesterday at dawn. His familiar brown eyes gave you sense of comfort, which you liked, not being alongside Emma now.

“Shall we?” He asked, his cheeks ruby like yours were, as he extended the palm of his hand towards you. You giggled, smiling like a little babe who got extra cookies for dessert, and accepted his hand. Sauntering to the dancing arena, you only prayed to The Heavens above that Lady Ava taught you enough to embarrass neither yourself nor your guild.

Tracing his steps and following his lead, you did manage to dance without falling, which was a surprise seeing how spread out your wings were. You and him made easy conversation, about your hometowns and interests.  You saw your Father proudly looking at you and Emma, dancing with lads, you guessed, he approved of.

As the song ended and the orchestra played a transitioning tune between the melodies, a cough sounded beside you as you and Peter stopped. Your eyes widened as you nervously curtsied beside Peter, A ‘Your Majesty” falling from both your lips.

“If it’s not too much trouble, may I share a dance with the most stunning dame here?” 

Peter politely stepped back, letting go of your waist, as The King’s wide stature more than filled his place. Your heart was beating rather loudly, blood pumping to your ears as you tried to make sense of what was happening. In your peripheral vision you could see the prying eyes of others looking at you both, ready to criticize you for one wrong move. Your father watched intently, a slight warning in his eyes to not mess this opportunity up while your sister comfortingly smiled at you. You tried to even your breaths and make sense of what he was saying, to not just stand and gape like a fool in court.

As the harmony played out, he swayed you around, lifting you up and twirling you around. Compliments spewed out from his lips, making you crimson like freshly ripened apples. You couldn’t keep up with your expression of gratitude through your words as he admired your eyes, your elegance and your ensemble which just couldn’t make him shift his eyes from you. 

After two songs had played out, he left as suddenly as he had come, with a promise to meet you later. You watched him dance with other maidens, who approached him when you were dancing together, entertaining every approaching lady like an excellent host.

You made your way to the side, hoping to get some liquor, or at least some fluid in your veins and not faint right there this moment. Emma came up beside you while you were having wine, and rubbed your back in a parental way. Her eyes communicated her understanding of how overwhelmed you felt at the instant. Her date and Peter soon came and kept you both company for the rest of the night. As duos danced and people got intoxicated, you had to call it a night on behalf of your sister, her incessant giggling make you worried for her inebriated self. 

You slipped her out before your father caught her and gave her a stern talking to and tucked her in her bed keeping a glass of water and some fresh fruits for her on the bedside wooden bench. You concluded retiring for the night yourself but only after assuring your father of your whereabouts and well beings. Before returning to the hall, you took off your wings and the halo, also opting to leave the mask behind as the fur tickled your skin. Your makeup hadn’t ruined in the heat of the hall, it was a miracle. You made your way to the Hall, hoping to find your father, assumingly drunk with all his entourage.

Two hallways before the decorated ballroom were you pinned to the wall, one hand of your attacker covering your parted lips while the other held your face delicately, with a lover’s touch. A split second was all it took for you to be immobilised by this man and another by your wavering form to recognise the cobalt blue eyes and blonde curls. When The King was certain you wouldn’t scream, his hand left your mouth slid upwards, mirroring his other hand, with thumbs in front of your ears and palms resting on your cheeks.

“Your Majesty?” You mumbled back, your voice somehow even lower, afraid for yourself and even more so terrified to offend him.

“Say, would you come for a while to my chambers, the view of the creek from my balcony is splendid.”

His choice of words gave you an option, but his eyes, almost hypnotically told you there was only one correct answer.

“You are the one, I can feel it.” He whispered lowly but your heightened senses gladly picked it up.

You meekly nodded, your inner self surprised at your body moving of its accord alongside him, as your mind started voiding of thoughts like reporting to your father, checking up on Emma. You felt like you were trapped in someone else’s form and fought with an invisible force to take over the reins of your own body.

You did not fail to notice the lack of guards outside the King’s chamber and how every entrance managed to open itself. The King wasn’t lying about the picturesque scene though, as you stood in the balcony, hair getting ruffled by the strong breeze that seemingly came from nowhere.

Your body stiffened as King Steve came uncharacteristically close to you and slid his hands around your middle, his nose nestled in your locks, inhaling deeply.

His lips descended your neck, laying feathery kisses on his path as you stood there, unable to even move your hands or turn around. This out of body sensation was broken when you felt intense pain on piercing of your skin where your head met your torso. You suddenly gained all wits and enough strength to flail your limbs around but all your might wasn’t enough to even stir the man from his task. Your throat couldn’t gather enough energy to scream, though you doubted anyone would come. You started getting light headed and only then did he stop, carrying you in his arms to his widespread four poster bed, mattress as soft as sponge and sheets as silky as butter. Too weak to fight him off, you harvested all your energy in staying conscious as your gaze danced around, trying to make sense of every object present but not awake enough to notice too many details. The wine you drank did not make it any better.

As you laid on the stranger’s bed, you felt his body sit beside you, holding your neck; leaning down, his lips meeting yours for the first time. You did not reciprocate, neither did you have the strength nor the will, while his tongue slipped inside your mouth, roaming around like a traveller in foreign land.

As the kiss drew on, you felt some energy sidle inside you, enough for your mind to function again but not ample enough to fight off the brawny thief who robbed you of your first kiss. King Steve broke off the kiss and connected your foreheads together, his indigo eyes turning black in want, leaving you a frightening and gasping mess.

He backed away, sitting more straighter now as his hand drew back from around your neck and slid along your stomach, nearing the most intimate part of your body, even though there were still layers of cloth present. His hands did not stop there, however, and made their way downwards only stopping at the hem of your gown and slipping inside.

You shrieked out suddenly, becoming aware of his intentions quite late and grasped his wrist that rested now on your knee. 

“Your Majesty, I……I can’t-”

“Do you wish to refuse your King?”

You looked down, caught in the dilemma of wanting your safety and offending him once again. Your virtue had to be preserved till marriage, your mother had taught you, but on the other hand, the King’s words were the law.

“Answer Me.” The King’s cold voice broke through your thoughts, not a shout but still scarier than a yell.“

Your Majesty, I’ve never engaged in s-” You started tearing up, lower lip wobbling and body shaking at the thought of the future. You did not see this ending beneficial in any scenario. If you lost your virtue, you would never get wed but if you refused the King and he felt insulted, your family and your connections would be in the ruins, he held that much power over you.

Cradling your face with his other hand, he began again, “You think I’m not already aware, pretty one?” The man who was reprimanding you only few moments ago upon not answering him, had a smile on his face this time: not assuring or comforting, but malicious and sinister to its very core. “I could smell your untainted scent from my room, before even descending the stairs.”

“Your e-eyes..” You gaped again as colours morphed in his eyes, red now swirling around in the pools of darkness, his words lost on you as you felt your fear rising due to the inhumane action.

“For an intellectual, bibliophilic girl, you sure are oblivious, sweetheart.” He scoffed, looking unimpressed at you, “Come on, prove to me you aren’t heedless like the rest, draw the conclusion." His eyes held yours, again altering into hues of different colours, seemingly mocking you now. 

You don’t know how the thought jumped into your head, maybe because the two holes on your neck stung suddenly or because the automatically opening doors entered your mind, the contemplation that his fangs appeared so realistic and authentic the more you stared at them paired with the blood on his collar, not just the fresh red stain of your plasma but also the burgundy stain present there, giving his lips the cherry red shade you admired hours ago on his arrival at the event.

“This is not a co-costume, no-” You inhaled a quick breath, “you are a vampire.” Your face paled in realisation while he smirked proudly, tapping your knee in a weird, twisted form of appreciation.

“Tremendous, my dear. But only half, you see. My mother was one, yes, but my father, he gave me an even better ability, he was an Incubus.” You shuddered as the words sunk in, your only worry being staying alive now, when your life was in the hands of this sex demon, having the greatest of powers and strength. Your mind did not spend any time mulling over the existence of supernatural beings, only dwelling on possible escapes now.

“That is why even your untouched body couldn’t help but react to my form and it is also the very reason, that I can read what goes on in your mind, all your memories, your hobbies, every book you’ve read, your precious sister, Emma isn’t it? So please, do not even think about fleeing if you don’t want your family to suffer.”

The threat loomed in the air, nasty sobs wracking your body as his thumb came to wipe the tears off. His hands started undoing the lace on the front of your bodice as you sniffled. Managing to quieten down just a bit, you begged, “Please don’t do this, I’ll have nowhere to go if my family found about me partaking in this unholy deed before marriage.” You had little hope about him seeing reason but there was optimism nonetheless. 

“Darling, do not fuss that I’ll leave you unhinged and deserted after finding pleasure in your body, you are to be mine now. Essentially, you already are.” His lips claimed yours again as the front of your dress slackened, bundling around your waist.

You pulled back, surprised at his promise, “You mean that?” He nodded, coming to kiss you again. You turned so that his lips met your neck, tongue licking the salt residue of tears there. “In what sense?”

“In every sense you could think of and more. I’ll give you everything, make you my queen, would you like that?” He mumbled in your neck, tongue now soothing the two punctured cavities residing there.

You could feel yourself crossing your legs involuntarily, trying to caress the abrupt yearning in your intimate part, your underclothes dousing with wetness somehow. Steve smirked in your neck, sitting upright and playing his trump card.

“I’ll marry you and we’ll rule together with the plenty of successors you’ll give me. Won’t that make your parents proud? Isn’t that what your parents taught you? Catch the King’s eye?” You meekly nodded, his charisma of an Incubus winning you over. “I’ll make your father The King’s Hand and send your mother the finest of jewels and gems, satins and silks.” He looked over at your submissive form, looking at him with the innocence of a toddler, swayed by his promises.

“I’ll let your sister have a grand wedding with the man she dears. All you have to do is surrender yourself to me and be my Queen, rule alongside me. So I ask, will you?” You cut him off, your lips pressing against his as you tried to mimic his earlier movements. He held your waist, surprised but pleasantly so, crushing the layers of the rolled top half of your dress underneath his hands. You had very little idea about what bedding someone meant but you had this primal urge to not have any skin of yours covered or untouched by him.

Steve shed his cape and threw every cloth on his torso away, almost as eager as you to get skin to skin contact. Your hands tangled in his hair as he lifted you up and sat you in his broad lap, not before sliding your dress all the way down. As he broke the kiss and took in your body, parts of you hidden under the smallclothes, he let out a growl that frightened yet excited you with another shiver down your spine. 

He made quick work of his bottoms, his cock standing and reaching his muscled chest almost and you gaped. Your sister, Emma had informed you of men’s parts being far much smaller than what you had just witnessed. His member stood erect and proud, glistening as he pumped it with his fist. His eyes drank in your surprise and trepidation, getting amused and turned on even more. 

You still laid stretched across the bed, legs straight ahead of you while your torso rested on your elbows, eyes wary of his every next movement.  He eyed your scantily clad body, gaze filled with lust and nothing more and climbed between your legs, one hand coming down on your waist while the other grabbed the back of your head and pulled you into a possessive kiss, robbing you of your breath. Your mind was slowly registering the reality of it all, this was going to happen no matter what. You were going to sin by engaging in fornication. But is it really wrong if your benevolent king demands that of you?

His hand sliding from your face to your bosom distracted you from your chain of thoughts. He slid the cups of your garment revealing your nipples and took one in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it while his other pinched the abandoned one. You didn’t know if you should be more surprised at his actions or the rush of the feelings that ran through you.

He slowly released your nipple and trailed soft kisses down your stomach to your most intimate part yet, kissing it through the cloth there. His delicate touch was abruptly contrasted with him grabbing the fabric, tearing it into two and revealing you bare. 

You closed your legs out of instinct but his heavily muscled hand took them apart in a single push. He eyed you with a warning, to not obstruct him anyhow anymore.

“Let me taste that sweet nectar of yours, sweetheart. I really want to find out if it is as addictive as my senses picked it up, as sweet as the aura that surrounds you.”

And with that he dove into your pussy, his tongue roaming your wet cavern. Neither did you understand what he spoke of nor had you sister told you about the activity happening right now. But all you could do was focus on the astonishingly pleasant shivers running through you as you had an out of the body, more accurately an out of the world experience. You had no sense of the time that passed and how long you laid there clutching the silk sheets letting out mewls. But out of nowhere, something in you snapped and all your energy left you. 

As your blurry vision cleared and your eyes found his face, he licked his still glistening lips, his beard moist and wet but erotically so. He dove right into kiss again and you tasted your own sweet nectar for the first time ever. His hand roamed your body, grabbing your curves and caressing your soft flesh. 

One of his hands made its way down furthermore and spread your fluids along your folds, and then lined up himself along your hole. With a sudden push, you felt yourself being full like never before, and a sudden pain hit you as your face visibly flinched. Steve swallowed your grunts of pain with his kisses and started rubbing your bud above your linked bodies. 

The shudder that ran through you once again made you incapable of thinking, the ache slowly subsiding behind the pleasure you felt. When your moans filled the air, Steve kissed your collarbones and sucked leaving bruises there, and started thrusting again. As his movements became faster and consistent, and his callused hands rubbed you and pinched your intimate flesh, you ascended to another world. Each action of his introduced you to a new star in the wide galaxy. The same unknown descended upon you again as something snapped in your abdomen and you experienced pure bliss. 

“Going to make you the mother of my children, you will carry my seed and bring the Kingdom several heirs. This time I’ll succeed, you will be mine, my Queen in every sense.” His words made you clench around him and that was all it took for him to achieve ecstasy as well.

Your head lolled and your eyes met his sweating frame lying across the silk sheets as a sinister grin adorned his face again, “I need to fuck a successor into you tonight, you ready?”  

[uniquevocashark]

A Good Servant Part 4

Content warnings:

Graphic depictions of gore, blood, smoking, lady dimitrescu washes the readers mouth out with soap and a horse brush so watch out for that, mentions of taxidermy, mentions of meat preparation (skinning), mentions of murder, aftermath of murder

“How dare I?” Lady Dimitrescu said, then her face split open in a wide smile and she threw her head back and laughed. It was light and hysterical, and she covered her mouth softly with one hand. Her bedroom was lit only with candlelight, her pet cowering on the other side of the room by her bed.

You glared at her and she met your eyes gleefully, striding over and grabbing your face in one hand. She squeezed your jaw and forced your mouth open, then rubbed your teeth through your cheeks. You grabbed her wrist and dug your nails in, but she didn’t so much as flinch, smiling at you with all the grace of a lion with an antelope in its mouth.

“Pet,” She called, and you glared, “Go fetch some soap and water, separate bucket for each.”

You glimpsed at her, at her smirk and her pose, the way it accentuated her perfect posture and the perfect way her hair fell and curled. The sleek stitch work of her hat, her cream dress, the strokes of her makeup brush that painted her white. Perfect, down to the last cell.

Lady Dimitrescu walked with you struggling against her, dragging your feet over the well-polished floor and well-appointed carpet to her bed. She sat down and pulled you forward with a quick yank, forcing your stomach against her knee. She reached over you to her bedside table, where she kept a specially designed toothbrush for her horse, Matthias.

“This is such a lovely little knick-knack,” She said pleasantly, twisting the dark wooden brush to catch the light, “It’s a shame I barely use it, don’t you agree?”

You grabbed her wrist in both hands and clawed and, though she swayed slightly, she manhandled you right back where she wanted you with ease. You grunted and she tapped your lips with the brush.

“Now, now, Wesker, no need to act an animal,” Her pet came back with a bucket of soap and a bucket of water, “Excellent choice, pet.”

Last year Lady Dimitrescu had taken to the scent of vanilla, and the smell was thick and syrupy the moment it was set down near you. She used a soft soap that gouged, somewhere between sloid and liquid, and pungent enough to drown your nose already. She scooped some onto her fingers, smiling, then looked at you with a grin crawling up her cheeks. “Try not to swallow.”

You took a quick breath, and she shoved her fingers into your mouth. The soap taste was unbearable, and she took obvious pleasure while she rubbed the soap onto your tongue. The taste filled your mouth, your nose, and no matter how hard you bit her hand she never wavered. She hummed a pleasant tune, tapping her feet beneath you while you struggled against her. When Lady Dimitrescu pulled away to grab the brush, you pulled in a breath and gagged.

She looked down at you, trapped against her and gasping between your violent gags, and smiled.

She tapped your cheek with the brush, and you flinched away from it.

“What a shame,” Lady Dimitrescu mused and tilted your chin up to watch the soap foam drip down your chin. She smiled slowly, her eyes widened softly, and she pushed the brush into your mouth. She scrubbed your teeth harshly, then your gums, your tongue and as far down your throat as she could push you before you were clawing desperately at her hand. She scrapped the brush against the inside of your mouth until you bled, until you had clawed holes in the skirt of her dress, until tears rolled down your face flatly and all you could smell, or taste was iron and rosemary.

By the time she had deemed your mouth clean, suds and spit covered your chin and her skirt. She released your jaw and let you sink to the floor and pushed the bucket of water over to you with her foot.

“All this, because you can’t listen,” She mused, taking her quellazaire from her pet. She turned to the tongueless woman and said, “Inside the bathroom, pet.”

You spat out a mouthful of blood and bristles, your hand shaking, running your tongue over your teeth and finding a few loose. Lady Dimitrescu was never gentle with her punishments to her staff, only her daughters were ever treated gently. She had told you not to cuss once before, in passing.

You wiped the spit off your chin and threw it into the bucket, your hands shaking, and your breath laboured. Rosemary tinted your every breath in when you heard the bathroom door shut.

“I would do that to Mother Miranda,” She said wistfully, relighting her cigarette, “if I could get away with it.”

“She’d kill you,” You choked out, coughing up a chunk of soap, “Speaking to her might help.”

“Mother Miranda doesn’t listen to me,” Lady Dimitrescu took a drag from her cigarette, “not anymore, at least.” She smiled at you, small and bitter, then turned her attention to the bathroom door and frowned.

You stared at her, and the bloody bristles covering your palm. “I know she doesn’t.”

“She speaks to you, a human—”

“Not a human.”

“A mortal,” She corrected absently, moving your chin towards her with the tip of her shoe, “is told over me. Does that seem… fair to you?”

You didn’t answer and she tilted her head as she took another drag from her quellazaire. Then she laughed, soft hiccup like chuckles more bitter than the taste in your mouth, smoke leaking from her ruby red lips.

“I’m obsolete.” She said, turning her eyes to the ceiling and then she laughed again.

“You are not,” You said, the words spilling blood from your mouth onto her shoe, “You have some uses.”

“Oh, thank you for the assessment,” Alcina crooned sarcastically, “It is ever so helpful.”

“I’m not good at this. And you scrubbed my mouth out with a horse brush.”

She pushed the tip of her shoe into your neck, just above the skin that hid your oesophagus. Her golden eyes glowed, “And you were just commenting on my daring, were you not?”

You glowered, then lowered your eyes to your murky reflection. “Yes, Madame.”

“By all means,” Lady Dimitrescu said, flicking ash onto the floor, “Speak.”

You picked up the still glowing end of her cigarette with a handkerchief and spat a glob of blood to smother it with. It was too late, predictably. The carpet was already ruined, “You are a hypocrite.”

“Hm? Did I not scrub hard enough?”

You pulled another bristle out from between your teeth.

“You never told me you had children.”

You dabbed the inside of your cheek with another handkerchief, pulling out a loose tooth as you did so. “I only had one.”

“You lied to me.”

You looked at her and shrugged, “I lie about a lot more than that.”

“Yes,” Her fingers tightened around her quellazaire, “I am aware of that.”

You looked away, into the bucket, then at the door. “It isn’t any of your business.”

"The lives of all my staff are my business."

“But I am not just yours.”

She leaned back a little, cocking her head to the side and smiling, “Yet.”

You glimpsed at her, at her smirk and her pose, the way it accentuated her perfect posture and the perfect way her hair fell and curled. The sleek stitchwork of her hat, her cream dress, the strokes of her makeup brush that painted her white. Perfect, down to the last cell.

“I know plenty about you,” She said, “A Frenchmen, a biologist, a test subject.”

“Easy things to learn from a file.”

“You hate the smell of brandy,” She continued in a dreamy sort of tone, “and acorns, whatever those are. You hate kidney beans and men who smoke. But you like cooking and you like me.”

You wobbled to your feet and took a few shaky steps away from her. She watched you and the blood that dripped down your chin with razor focus.

“I will likely be leaving.” You said, though it was much quieter than you would have preferred.

Lady Dimitrescu saw through your basic attempt and hummed, the sound reverberating through your bones. Then, mockingly, “Oh, are you afraid of dying?”

You looked at the draping on her bed, “You aren’t?”

“I am immortal,” She said, taking a drag from her cigarette then cocked her head, “Get out.”

…

You didn’t sleep that night.

So, after a few hours of soothing the pain in your mouth, you redressed and went into the kitchen. Alex was there, skinning whatever the Lady had deemed to her palate, so you moved to help with the vegetables. You didn’t speak for three hours, not until the prep work was done and the silverware was shining bright enough to blind.

You nodded as the other kitchen staff entered, “Ensure everything is perfect.”

And then you went to start your day.

You put your room to rights, cleaned the table, fixed the bedding and refolded any loose clothing. Then you moved into the dorm rooms for the other maids and roused them up fifteen minutes before six. You cleaned away the last remains of the five that had been eaten last night and dictated tasks down to the rest. Once the dorms had been cleaned to standard, and new bedding was placed on the once used beds, you moved to meet Mihaela at twenty past six and handed off the schedule for Lady Dimitrescu’s morning before Vanessa arrived.

Afterwards you sought out the three Dimitrescu daughters, who slept until half past seven before they deigned to rise. They kept their rooms warm as melted butter, with enough blankets to burn the scales off a rattlesnake, and you took a breath before entering. They were, as ever, aggressive but for Daniela who practically jumped into your arms. She smiled her wide smile and, after a little prompting, began talking excitedly about the necklaces she had made using your teeth.

You brushed their hair, first Daniela, then a yawning Bela and finally Cassandra who flopped half off the bed and snored while you fixed her hair. Once they were dressed, and their necklaces comfortably on their necks, you opened the doors and had breakfast brought in. The ate the dog meat with friendly chatter and warm tea. They weren’t as picky as their mother, nor as reliant on human flesh, and enjoyed tasting different meats when the opportunity presented itself.

But always you knew that they would bounce back onto human flesh. Such was their nature.

You took extra time to clean up their room as quickly and quietly as possible while they talked amongst themselves. Cassandra had disappeared immediately after breakfast, as she always did before you were finished cleaning and never returning until well after dinner. She was, as the other maids had told you, doing something in the opera hall and had barred all entrance into it while she was working.

Lady Dimitrescu always came to say good morning to her children, just after she had finished balancing her accounts and fielding any emergency phone calls. They calmed her considerably, and they talked while you cleaned around them in a flurry of movement. You did catch her eye one time, just as she was leaving, and she smiled at you with more mania than you had seen from her in a while.

At twenty-three past eleven, you went to clean the lower bedroom that Lady Dimitrescu worked in and found her pet hanging on the hooks with her chest broken open. Her ribs had been removed and you could clearly see her lungs inflating and deflating while she noisily took in breath. She would not live another minute, not with the glaze in her eyes as she reacted to your footsteps, especially not with the flies that buzzed out of your skirts and onto her neck. You watched her breath once and then turned your attention to the mess that was Lady Dimitrescu’s desk.

She had small roses made of glass, stuffed rodents that Daniela had made for her, flowers that Cassandra picked for her each morning from her private garden and small statues made of clay that Bela had made for her. And all of it was covered in blood which you would need to scrub and bleach from it all.

“At least you don’t have to deal with this.” You said to the hanging corpse and got to work.

When Vanessa did finally arrive, at one in the afternoon, you had been so thoroughly distracted by your work that you had run your fingers until they were bright red and throbbing. Lady Dimitrescu had watched you from her couch, tilting her head this way and that with feline laziness to track your every move.

Vanessa took tea with Lady Dimitrescu when she arrived, drinking the blood infused blend with a brave face and healthy smile. She always did have a stunning smile, matching to the Lady’s that you now worked under. The business they discussed, and discuss they did, loudly and bordering on obnoxious, was you. And Lady Dimitrescu twisted it into your past with almost reverent ease.

She was always too good at getting information from people.

“Cryogenically frozen?” Lady Dimitrescu asked, her smile stretching a tad too wide, “My, my. I had no idea.”

Vanessa smiled, and you could see the ticking of her brain as she tried to worm her way out of the current conversation, “Yes, it’s a fascinating process.”

“That sounds like quite the ordeal.” Lady Dimitrescu leaned forward, resting her head on her chin and you dug your nails into the platter you were holding.

“It was,” Vanessa said, “There are so many components that can go wrong.”

“Do tell.”

And so, it went on and on and on for two hours. By three in the afternoon, Lady Dimitrescu had weaseled herself into your personal life with as much finesse and subtlety as a charging rhinoceros, not that either you or Vanessa could divert her interest away from the topic. So when she left for work, brushing her hand under your chin as she went.

You watched her go for a moment too long, before Vanessa threw her arm around your shoulders and kissed your cheek.

“That is quite enough.” You said and shook her off.

Vanessa laughed and you went over to the dirty table and began stacking the dishes away. “Oh, come now, I haven’t seen you in twenty years!”

“That was on purpose.”

She sat back down while you cleaned, tossing her dark hair so that it caught the light brilliantly. She didn’t wear perfume, which made the room seem empty now that Lady Dimitrescu had left, and she seemed cold compared to the Lady. “Are you still mad at me?”

“I hope you’re quite finished.”

“You talk like that giant bioweapon.”

“She is,” You said severely, picking up the full tray and wiping down the table, “by definition, not a bioweapon.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Be more precise with your language.”

“Now you’re nit-picking.”

“Please, stop talking.” She smiled gently and you relented. “Fine. I missed you.”

Vanessa threw her arm around your shoulders again and gave you another kiss on the cheek. Daniela appeared before you and placed her sickle against Vanessa’s temple.

She scrunched her nose and her tone was soft and confused, “Why are you touching our things?”

[autumnslance]

FFXIV Write 2021 #15: Thunderous

((A longer one. Violence, blood, and fire. Not safe for heretics or dragoons as we step back to last week and the aftermath of “Heady”...))

“There they are!” X’rhun exclaimed. “Thank the gods!”

Alberic only puffed a breath in agreement as they ran across and down the ravine to where Aeryn was tending to an ashen-faced Heustienne.

“The cavalry has arrived,” the injured dragoon said dryly, her damaged chainmail removed to allow Aeryn access to the wound. Not the worst Heustienne had ever taken, but more than bad enough.

“Thank Halone you’re safe,” Alberic said as X’rhun dropped to his knees next to the women to lend his own aid if needed. “We heard from Kal Myhk you’d tangled with a group of heretics—”

“They took us to Avengret,” Aeryn’s voice cut him off; quiet, too steady, too calm.

For a moment the world paused, until X’rhun’s tail lashed as he turned to look up at Alberic.

Aeryn wasn’t looking at him, her hands resting on her knees now, feet tucked under her. Heustienne’s gaze flicked between Aeryn and Alberic, her own questions barely held back.

“Let’s get Heustienne upright,” X’rhun said gently. “And then get back to—”

“Anyx Trine?” Aeryn interrupted. “Will they tell me the truth if I ask? They must know. If what she said is true.” She turned her head slightly toward Alberic without raising her face, looking at his boots. “She said I should ask you.”

“Aeryn…” His mouth was dry.

She looked up finally, lips parting to say more, but instead she drew in a sharp breath, eyes wide and shining silver, not seeing Alberic or anything else around her now.

He groaned, whether in fear or agony or relief, he wasn’t certain.

——

Alberic followed Corran Striker into the house. It was a pleasant little place, clean and airy. The edges of the walls were lined with brightly painted flower and vine designs, and small pieces of colored glass bordered the custom-framed windows to allow some of the light to also reflect rainbows into the rooms--that couldn’t have been cheap, Alberic thought.

“Please, leave your helm and lance by the door. I think my wife will forgive the boots this time.”

“I keep the lance close to hand, you understand,” Alberic replied as he at least set down his helm on the table by the door.

There was evidence of children; their house slippers by the door, a doll on a chair, a set of tin knights cluttering the low table in the sitting room. His heart ached. “What a lovely home,” he said. “Will the missus and children be joining us?”

Corran shook his head. “Emelia’s running some of her crafts all the way to Fallgourd in the Shroud, and took Zaine and Aeryn with her for the fun. They’ve been cooped up too long, she thought.” He smiled fondly. “It’s a way she deals with her homesickness, and shares that part of herself with our children; she grew up traveling part of the year selling wares as a girl in Thavnair.”

Relief, but also renewed wariness prickled along Alberic’s spine as he followed Corran to the kitchen, leaning his lance on the wall right behind his chair as he took the offered seat at the dining table. “Thavnair? That’s a ways away. Explains the colors though.”

“I got rather lucky,” Corran replied, his tone warm and genuine. “She misses it, but is somehow willing to stay with me.”

“Ever think of visiting?” Alberic asked casually as Corran went about the motions of preparing the lunch he had offered the tired dragoon when they had accidentally met in the treacherous priest’s chapel. Corran had seemed surprised to learn of Comfraire’s heresy, but had offered hospitality despite his own shaken state.

“If there wasn’t always so much work to do, perhaps someday we could,” Corran said quietly.

“I think I’d take the chance, perhaps even move permanently, were I a common man with a family. Get the children far from the war, among the wife’s people.”

“I won’t lie; the thought has occurred to me,” Corran said. “Though I’m surprised, Ser Azure; I’d think one like you would want to keep promising future soldiers for the war in Ishgard.”

Alberic shrugged. “As I said; were I a common man, with a foreign wife who misses her home and children with futures to think of.”

The chronometer in the hall ticked steadily as Corran worked. “Perhaps. Though much as she misses Thavnair, I’d miss Coerthas. I love my home, Ser Azure. There’s little I wouldn't do to see our homeland prosper.”

Alberic did not reply, not trusting his tongue to respond to the man’s gall.

As Corran came to the table with sandwiches and a decent-looking ale, Alberic smiled. “Then perhaps you can aid me in protecting our homeland,” he said. He hoped he was wrong about Corran. “I am tracking a dangerous creature I believe the false priest Comfraire was working with, coordinating an imminent attack from the Horde.”

Corran raised an eyebrow. “I’m but a simple farmer, Ser. I don’t know what help I could be.” He glanced down at his plate.

The chronometer in the hall continued to tick.

“Know you of anyone Comfraire spent time with, when not pretending to holy duties? Places the priest liked to go when not tending the church? I hear you were among those who escorted the fellow on his daily walks.”

“A duty many of us in the community shared,” Corran replied, tone growing strident. “Do you accuse me of heresy merely for minding an old man on his daily constitutional?”

“No of course not,” Alberic answered. He pulled the correspondence he had found in Comfraire’s hidden desk drawer from his pack. “These letters however do indicate guilt.”

“Well that is another story, isn’t it?” Corran asked, leaning back in his chair. The humble farmer demeanor fell away as he crossed his arms. “Why play along?”

“I wanted to be wrong. You seemed like a decent man with a family you love.”

“I do love them,” Corran replied, voice low and cold. “You’re very unlucky you came this day.”

“She doesn’t know what you really do, does she?”

“And once we’re rid of you, she never will,” Corran said bluntly. “Our war doesn’t concern her.”

“And the children?”

Corran’s grey eyes clouded like thunderstorms, his lips drawn into a snarl. “You’ll never touch them.”

They both leapt, chairs clattering to the ground. Alberic reached for his lance while Corran moved with preternatural speed to the sideboard, pulling a hidden blade he managed to raise in time to block Alberic’s swing.

The house was torn and broken as they fought, Alberic barely able to acknowledge the damage as they threw each other against walls and through furnishings. Corran had an advantage with his shorter blade in the cramped space, but Alberic was a far more practiced fighter. If he could get hold of a sword--or better disarm Corran of his--then the heretic would soon be at his mercy.

He finally saw his moment, spinning his lance to baffle Corran’s blade before using his more heavily armored frame to knock the taller man through a door and into what had to be the master bedroom.

The sword went sliding the opposite way down the hall, and Corran laughed bitterly.

“Give it up, Striker,” Alberic said, pointing his lance. He could see Corran’s waist and legs, but the broken door obscured his head. “Tell me about the coming attack!”

Corran's laugh only continued, growing deeper and more growling. Alberic’s eyes widened as he saw Corran’s body jerk, bones cracking and skin tearing, swelling as scales overtook skin.

He swung to drive his lance down through the man as a roar shook the windows, and through the back wall an aevis tore its way inside, the colorfully bordered window panes shattering across the bedding. The dragon leapt at Alberic, and he swung up, barely blocking the creature’s jaws from clamping onto his still helm-less head as they skid down the hall from the momentum of its impact.

Alberic managed to roll out of the way as the aevis let loose a gout of flame, the fire catching on broken furniture. It came for him again but he had made it to his feet, dashing back toward the kitchen for room to move. The aevis lunged at him as Alberic braced himself, a heel against the base of the sink.

His lance caught the beast’s chest and with a roar of his own from his Inner Dragon surging forth, he used the dragon’s momentum to pierce it deeper, throwing it over his shoulder and halfway through the large window, more bright glass breaking as the thing flailed, screaming flames across the yard as it bled out around the lance through it.

Alberic had no time to retrieve his weapon as Corran came for him, tearing apart the walls to fit his new bulk through them to get to the dragoon. He was larger than most transformations Alberic had seen, a heavy red wyvern, powerful and burning, his eyes filled with the same intelligence they had held as a man.

Alberic swore and dove out of the way of claws longer than his own hands. He managed to duck and roll under and past Corran and back into the hallway, needing the smaller space to disadvantage the dragon. Assuming said dragon didn’t just shoulder the walls out of his way, his fiery head rearing back to blast Alberic.

He barely managed to dodge, the heat unbearable as the walls with their pretty flower paint warped, melted, and crisped in the heat, flames now filling the house. He couldn’t last in here much longer, but also couldn’t let this fight further endanger the rest of the village, the commotion surely drawing attention, though any other knights would be too far away while Corran likely had more allies nearby.

His feet hit more metal that clattered, and he remembered Corran’s sword. As the beast came for him again, Alberic ducked to retrieve it, rolling in low as Corran leaped at him. With another shout, Alberic swung up, sliding along the floor on his knees as Corran passed overhead, the sword slicing down the wyvern’s side.

Corran screeched, landing heavily against the door in a tangle, blood flowing freely, wings and talons unable to get purchase in the too small space.

Alberic breathed heavily as he stood and hurried into the kitchen. The aevis was still jerking through its death throes, making a pathetic, pained cry as he yanked his lance from it, more blood pumping onto the sink and floor.

Alberic returned to the hall. Corran watched him, panting himself, lifesblood pooling around him as smoke filled the air.

“Finish me,” the dragon rumbled, in something resembling Corran’s voice. “But I want a promise first.”

“A promise?” Alberic asked. “Why should I pledge aught to a heretic?”

A weary claw gestured, holding a limp, blood-covered ragdoll. Alberic went cold. “For...them. They’re innocent. But we both know...Inquisitors….”

Alberic coughed as he shivered. They wouldn’t care that the children were only children. They wouldn’t care if Mistress Striker was Thavnairian--if anything, that would make it worse for her, no matter if she truly was unaware of her husband’s sins.

“Maybe...she’ll take them home,” Corran said. “She misses it. They could have…Not this.” His eyes met Alberic’s.

They were the grey eyes of a man.

Alberic nodded. “I promise,” he answered, as he pushed his lance through the wyvern’s heart. “Your family won’t pay for your sins.”

When he opened his smoke-stung eyes again, the dragon was gone, Corran Striker’s lifeless form before him, eyes colorless glass, smiling in relief.

Alberic considered for a moment, then drug Corran’s body toward the heaviest flames devouring the house, throwing him into the fire. With luck it would be so burned as to obscure how he had truly died, if Alberic was to keep his reckless promise.

The aevis in the kitchen was dead finally. Alberic retrieved the correspondence knocked to the floor during the scuffle, and gritting his teeth, threw all but one sheet into the flame as well; there was mention of a tower. If nothing else he could salvage something from this mess.

The heat and smoke were too much now, and people outside were shouting and trying to put out the flames, a woman screaming as she glimpsed the dragon half-hanging from the kitchen.

Alberic stumbled outside, battered and bloodied, and fell unconscious at the feet of the Strikers’ neighbors.

—————

It took only a few eye blinks before Aeryn’s groan echoed Alberic’s from a moment before. X’rhun tried to call to her, but she was on her feet in the next eye blink. She whirled in Alberic’s direction, braid whipping so quickly the end came back around to strike her cheek, unnoticed. Her eyes were a storm, lightning crackling in them.

Alberic did not move. He distantly realized that there was nothing any of the three of them could do to stop her of all people.

She flung herself forward and he took the weight of her body slamming into his, her hands gripping at his coat.

That was all.

Alberic didn’t dare move as she trembled against him, head down. X’rhun and Heustienne watched, breath held. Perhaps they had realized the same thing he had.

"I'd forgotten the windows,” Aeryn said hoarsely. “They were almost new; a Starlight gift from him, for Mama."

Alberic said nothing. What could he say?

“You didn’t tell me.”

He sighed. It took a moment to make sound. “By the time I’d realized who you were, why you were so familiar...Well, we had that mess with Estinien and neither of us were in any shape for more terrible revelations. Not the easiest thing to tell a girl you’re the man that killed her father, regardless of the why. And...If the Inquisition, the Ward, if any of them had found out…”

“I’d have handled them,” she said. Neutral, a matter of fact. She wasn’t one to boast.

“Perhaps,” he said. “I thought...Your mother took you to Thavnair. You would have a life there, away from the war. I never expected you to return. To be...this.”

“You should have told me.”

“I know. And you know I’m a sentimental, craven fool.”

She laughed, a wild, bitter noise, finally looking up. Her eyes locked with his, and he thought for as much as she looked like her mother, her eyes were too much like her father’s.

“X’rhun, can you make sure Heustienne gets back to Anyx Trine?” She said, not breaking her gaze with Alberic. The storm still rumbled in her eyes, but all he could see was old smoke.

“Of course,” the Seeker answered. “Aeryn—”

“I’m going home,” she said, shoving Alberic away. He staggered, barely managing to keep his footing. She was stronger than she looked. “I need time to think and rest.”

“You mean Revenant’s Toll, yes?” X’rhun demanded, tail still lashing.

Aeryn only nodded once as she retrieved her pack from next to Heustienne.

“Call me via ‘pearl when you arrive,” X’rhun insisted.

She paused for a moment, then nodded again, shouldering her pack and walking away.

“What the seven hells am I missing?” Heustienne asked after they watched Aeryn’s red coat vanish among the hills. “What did she see? What did you do?”

“Later,” X’rhun said, helping her to her feet. “Let’s get back to something resembling civilization first; Avengret’s heretics may still be on the trail.”

Alberic said nothing, simply following along as they made their way across the wilderness.

[andraaste]

I am not your enemy - Lance fanfiction part 10

Well finally, chapter 10 is here sooner than expected ! Happy reading my friends 💕

Chapter 10 : You are very far from the account, my beautiful

- I've been doing quite a bit of research on the powers of aengels and dragons since the other night, and there is something I would like to try. But for that, you have to trust me a minimum.

- All right, tell me what to do.

Without warning, Lance grabbed my hand and held it in his, this one made slightly rough by its semi-transformation. He had no say in letting me understand what he was waiting for. Closing my eyes, I focused on the now familiar tingling sensations of the contact of his skin against mine. The latter, still weak, ran through my fingers with a pleasant feeling. It was soft, almost natural, as if my palm had only waited for this contact to finally feel completely itself.

Locked in the cold huge cage of his tanned hand, my fingers began to vibrate slightly as the comforting warmth of my powers began to roam my arm. One against the other, our palms seemed to constantly counterbalance two radically opposed temperatures, struggling to find a happy medium. Strangely, I felt soothed by this sudden contrast akin to a duel of fire and ice. It was a reflection of our interactions, at Lance and me.

Complex, yet intense.

When my light finally diffused through our fingers, I felt its quiver slightly as it gradually grew more confident. I visualized it penetrating his skin, running through his muscles, up to his arm. Exactly like his ice had done on my body two days earlier.

A slight breath escaped his lips, which made me open my eyes again and, for a moment, I couldn't take my gaze from the smile that marked his face.

A proud smile, and above all sincere.

I couldn't stop my lips from echoing his. My powers thus awakened, I felt fully myself, and it was powerful, exhilarating. My light took on vividness, of a color with equally warm hues, marking the skin of the dragon in multiple streaks similar to mine, like a multitude of beams of light. I could see my energy pouring into him, running through his veins, marking every one of his pores.

Suddenly, his ice mingled with my heat. The fine lines of lights that ran through his arm multiplied into new ones in bluish hues, these seeming more vivid than mine. With astonishment, I discovered them running through me in turn. Slowly, as if trying to perfectly marry those already existing, mingling with dissonance on my pale skin.

I was totally hypnotized by the spectacle that presented itself to me, so much so that it took me a while to notice that Lance had loosened his grip to come and let his fingers run languidly over my wrist, thus tracing invisible shapes against my skin. Several shivers ran through me under his slow movements and I wasn't sure he himself noticed what he was doing. Closing my eyes for a moment, I focused on the gentle, yet sure, movements the dragon made. So, as with Leiftan, I thought I felt an emotion that was not mine. A light feeling, close to admiration. Confused, I opened my eyelids and looked into his blue eyes.

Lance hadn't taken his eyes off me.

He suddenly understood what had just happened. Pulling on my wrist, he pulled me closer to him, bringing his lips to the hollow of my ear.

- Who allowed you to enter my head, little human ? he whispered to me.

His voice, both sweet and teasing, sent a shiver running down my spine. So I could feel his breath against my neck and knowing him so close to me made me both nervous and languid.

- It's you who is far too easy to read, I had nothing to do with it.

His weak laugh, with much more hoarse intonations than usual, grabbed all my attention.

- How did you do that ?

- I don’t know how to explain it. It happens to me sometimes in Leiftan's presence since we fought together, but I didn't think it was possible with anyone else.

The dragon imperceptibly contracted its jaws at the hearing of the aengel's first name.

- I see. Again, it's probably because of this exchange of powers, he told me, pausing a little before resuming, a slightly more sullen tone. So does that mean you feel his emotions ?

- It happens sometimes, yes, I answered him innocently.

He let out a much less jovial laugh as he leaned on the dresser behind him, his back arched slightly in my direction. Never breaking the link between our skins, he nonchalantly put his hand that still held mine on one of his thighs, his palm up, leaving me free to withdraw it if I wished.

- I guess he's still overflowing with sweet feelings for you.

I gave him a heavy look, which he answered with a vague shrug.

- Don't look at me like that, you had to be blind not to see what he felt for you. I remind you that I spent a lot of time with him and I can assure you that he only had your name in his mouth.

It’s true that Ashkore and Leiftan had been allies, there was a time.

I realized that, when he behaved so relaxed around me, like a moment ago, Lance sometimes managed to make me forget this tumultuous past that we shared. And I had to admit that these moments, however fleeting they were, were sometimes pleasant.

- Nothing ever happened between Leiftan and me, his feelings have always been one-sided and to be honest, I think he felt that much because I was like him. What's more, I was with Nevra at that time.

My interlocutor observed me for a moment without saying anything.

- Andraste, you can believe me when I tell you that he fell madly in love with you the moment you arrived. It's not just a matter of race, although I can understand that it sounds appealing. I myself was curious as to why you were so important to him, but I came to understand that he was just really infatuated with you. On the other hand, I'm intrigued that you still feel his emotions if this phenomenon dates from the battle, he added.

I pondered his words. Leiftan's feelings for me troubled me, I didn't know what to think.

- I don’t know what to tell you. Maybe spending the last few years together in the Crystal has brought us closer together, who knows ?

Lance winced slightly at hearing the theory that didn't seem to please him much, it seemed.

How was it possible that I could feel their deepest emotions, and most importantly, why didn't they seem to feel mine in return ? I didn't understand a thing. I had convinced myself that this was the result of our aengel powers, but why was this also happening with the dragon ?

Our conversation having distracted me, I realized that my light still continued to shine weakly on his skin, running under the sleeve of his top. And it was... simple. Without any effort to provide. I then remembered a detail. During our training several days ago, when my powers had reactivated as anger had risen in me, their color had turned whitish, totally cold. While at this precise moment, the latter shone a much more orange hue, pouring a pleasant sensation down my muscles. Did my emotions interfere with the process ?

Catching me off guard, Lance pulled on my wrist and pulled me even closer to him. So brought together, I could make out every detail of the scales that dotted her neck and jaw, they bewitching me with their almost unreal shades.

- I don’t hide from you that I don’t hope that it’s the case, he said to me in a deep and low voice, making my heart beat a little faster without me knowing why.

- And why is that, exactly ?

His gaze became more penetrating. He raised an eyebrow as I leaned in a little more, until I in turn came to press my lips close to his ear.

- Oh by the way, if you could stop calling me "little human" when you light up the room with my powers, I added lower.

I felt his lips widen against me as he slid a hand through my hair to reposition it behind my ear.

- A human with two or three powers, at most. I wait a little better to be blown away.

Angered, I pulled back to slap him on the shoulder with my free hand. Lance rubbed the affected area before laughing frankly at my daring.

- You are easily offended.

- And you should avoid letting your guard down in my presence, you know that I tend to get carried away a little.

- I thought I noticed it, indeed. But I guess I tend to like it myself, he said with a mischievous sneer.

We stared at each other for several long seconds, a silly smile stuck on our faces as our hands seemed unwilling to let go. Positioned in this way, our bodies standing far too close to each other to remain conventional, I felt strangely relaxed. And when his eyes suddenly drifted lower, peering down at my mouth with some undisguised curiosity, I found myself wondering what would happen if our lips met. If the simple contact of our skin had such virtues, what would it be in the face of more privacy ? I had the impression that each of my emotions was heightened tenfold in his presence, and like an addiction, I had this impression always wanting more, never to be entirely satisfied.

Lance seemed to recover and I was surprised to see his scales slowly resorbing.

- We're going to stop there for tonight, he said softly as he began to regain his human form.

His skin finally returned to its usual appearance and quickly, no more draconian attributes marked Lance's body.

Cautiously letting go of my hand, he let his fingers run along my skin until only emptiness caught up with me. The broken link, our powers diminished in liveliness, descending the lines drawn on our respective skins in the opposite direction, to the tips of our fingers. Disappearing totally, I felt a cold suddenly embrace me as the warmth of my light and the coldness of his ice no longer caressed me.

I was cold for the first time since waking up, and I felt that as I left Lance's coolness.

The dragon leaned a little more against the edge of the dresser and observed me for a moment without saying anything, as if lost in an internal reflection that he didn’t seem to want to share with me. Suddenly, he raised an arm and came to rub a loving hand through my hair, catching me totally off guard.

- Well done, Andraste. I had my doubts you'd make it, but ultimately I'm impressed, he told me as he slowly pulled his fingers away from my scalp, pouting mockingly.

I crossed my arms, an eyebrow raised in annoyance.

- You really don't have any hope in me, actually.

His soft laughter echoed again as he finally pulled away from his prop. Leaning over me once again, his large figure towering over me completely, he whispered to me, like a secret :

- If you knew what I think of you... you are very far from the account, my beautiful.

(Chapter 11)

[deepflourishrosesstories]

Crawling at Night: Valentine’s Day Edition

Male! Demon x GN! Reader

Warning: Valentine’s Day, Fluff

Word Count: 1.5k

Part 1 and Part 2 for those who would like to read it!

With your neighbourhood decorated in red and pink hearts, taking a walk outside your home in the morning was quite pleasant. Chocolates, sweets, and other special foods were displayed in every shop possible and you took your time viewing and choosing to pick the most memory-engraving one to eat for the day.

This was your routine when a special event rolled in; the only thing missing was a particular demon. Since you’ve met Fateh, everything you think about seemed to revolve around him. And when Valentine’s Day came, all you could think about was imagining your day with him, with his warm hands clasped with yours and his brilliant smile dazzling upon you.

Yet you had no idea if demons—particularly the ones that aren’t in the title of Christianity—celebrates Valentine’s Day. So you kept your mouth shut and didn’t bring the topic up when talking to him.

You peeked through the transparent glass window that showed the various sweets and foods. Glancing at the window area just above the display, you were met by five midnight-black eyes that sparkled with mysterious mischief.

Gasping quietly, you turned behind and smiled up at the person.

“Hi,” the demon said. Fateh had a shy smile on his face and he shuffled on his feet nervously. Occasionally, his eyes looked up to yours before flickering away and a deep colour of red appeared on his face.

“Fateh,” you said softly.

He was wearing a simple combination of white fitting T-shirt and black jeans, yet he looked so gorgeous and flawless he was almost too bright to look at.

Fateh wasted no time in scooping you up in a bone-crushing hug, placing kisses on your entire face. His rich laughter filled your ears when he saw your eyes shut tightly, and pressed his lips in a final kiss on your forehead.

Tentatively letting your vision return, Fateh’s grinning face instantly appeared. The sunlight scorched from behind him and reflected on his tanned skin graciously. You’ve only seen him out in the sunlight two times in the past, and his inhumanity seemed to grow the more as he stood in the bright day.

You stared at him with wide eyes. “What… What are you doing here?”

He slightly looked away bashfully, but didn’t lose his hold on you. “I-I, um…” He cleared his throat. “My boss usually gives us a day off on Valentine’s Day.”

Your brows furrowed. “And why’s that?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Demons don’t exactly like Valentine’s Day. We believe that we shouldn’t avoid evil and hatred just because of a celebration.”

“Then you must not like it here,” you said. “We can go back to my house, if you want.”

Fateh shook his head in alarm. He took a step back and released his hands around you. “N-No, no. I don’t want to ruin your time here just because of me. And besides, I didn’t say we hate Valentine’s Day—we just don’t get the point of it.”

You tilted your head to the side and looked at him unsurely. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” He flashed you a reassuring smile and laid a chaste peck on your lips.

“Okay.” You interlocked your hands with his and returned a kiss on his cheek. “I’m really happy you’re here.”

He smiled softly. “Me too.”

———

Turns out, Fateh has a sweet tooth—like, a lot. Every shop you went to, he would take at least two kinds of sweets from that place and eat almost everything by himself. Your routine of contemplating buying was soon broken as the demon lays his hand on various boxes of sweets and the contents vanish in a blink of an eye. It took every part of your will to stop him from making googly-eyes at all the chocolates on display and buying everything at once.

“B-But…”

His lips turned into an adorable pout that almost melted your heart and loosened your grip on his toned arm. Almost.

“This is your fifth box of chocolates, Fateh! Fifth! How many more are you planning on eating?!”

He blushed fiercely and the red on his cheeks started to glow the same way it usually did in his demon form. “U-Um, I’m sorry…” He stared down at his feet, almost like a guilty child. “B-But can I please get this one last box?” he said quietly. His voice was like a whispering prayer to the gods—so desperate and hopeful that it was ironic to think that an almighty demon was practically begging you for permission.

Your mind desperately wanted to say no, yet looking at his innocent eyes and his endearing pout, you found your mouth saying the exact opposite of what you were thinking.

“Okay,” you said slowly. “But this is your last one, all right?”

Fateh started to sparkle with excitement and eagerly nodded. He swiftly pulled you along to the shop with his feet carrying across the floor with a skip in his heels. As quick as you two entered, the demon bought the box of chocolates at an alarming pace and started to bite down on the sweet.

You watched him silently without a word nor sound. Sauntering, you led him to a park and sat on a shadowed bench.

His eyes slowly took away from the box and looked at you with wide, lustrous eyes. “Do you… do you want some?”

You raised a brow. “Would you slap my hand away if I did?”

A horrified expression fell on his handsome face, all the colour in his face draining drastically. “No! Of course not. I would never—”

Chuckling, you placed a hand on his arm. “I’m just joking, Fateh.”

His body relaxed ever so slightly, and he sighed softly. “I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to apologize,” you said gently. Taking his hand, you rubbed circles on his smooth and warm skin.

A shiver rippled through him as he watched you with a gaze full of wonders and admiration. He brought your hand to his lips and pressed them feather-lightly on your knuckles. Giggles erupted from his chest bashfully, the sound fanning over your ears pleasantly like a faint wind on a spring day.

“Do you—do you think of me…” Fateh trailed off with an uncertain quiver in his last word.

You saw him swallow thickly and your brows furrowed at his frenzied self. You squeezed his hand in comfort. “Do I think of you as what?”

He looked away and said quietly under his breath, “Do you think that I-I would hurt you?”

Shock took over you. Fateh—someone so endearing and gentle—hurting you? Why would he think such a ridiculous thing? It was so unbelievable that you almost wanted to laugh at his question.

But you kept your calm and looked at him with cool eyes. Touching his cheek tenderly, you guided him so he faced you. “Why would you think that?”

Tears started to brim in the corner of his eyes and you instantly placed your other hand to wipe them away with your thumbs. As you did, his eyes turned pure black and his skin started to turn deep red, heating up warmer like sand under sunlight.

“Be-Because I’m a demon, a-and we’re feared b-by everyone—especially humans. Y-You even thought I was going to hurt you.”

An inaudible breath left your lips, you pulled your hands and looked down at your lap in shame. “I didn’t know it affected you like that. I’m so sorry, Fateh.”

“No, no, please don’t apologize,” he begged. “It’s my fault.”

When you looked up, you were surprised to see his appearance changed; his skin red as roses, his dark horns shining devilishly on either side of his head, the scales on his wings beautifully arranged, and his five black eyes gleamed wickedly and bore through your soul. He seemed to absorb all the light around him and he illuminated with a red mellow glow.

You couldn’t look away from him—his mysterious form brought you comfort unlike anything else and it brought you a shiver down your spine. Even in his demon body, he possessed a gentleness only he had and you melted when he held your hands tightly.

“I shouldn’t have doubted you,” he said. “You’ve been nothing but kind and caring towards me, and I shouldn’t have let these th-thoughts come over me.”

“It’s all right.”

You leaned towards him and kissed him sweetly. He responded slowly, his lips were soft, warm, and tasted like chocolates that sent sparkles to your body. With your bodies close together, you could feel him warming up and you hooked your fingers through his silky-black locks, bringing his face closer to you.

When you two pulled away reluctantly, Fateh rested his flushed forehead on yours and pecked your nose playfully. His five eyes blinked lazily at you, each of them staring at you with such love that your heart dissolved and turned into fuzzy mist.

“I love you so much,” he whispered.

You laughed softly. “Me too.”

“I kind of get why you humans like Valentine’s Day,” he said sheepishly.

“Really?”

He nodded once and caressed your cheeks with his thumb—it felt like soft feathers brushing against you. “It’s good to feel to be so loved by someone.”

Laughing once more, you pressed a chaste kiss on his lips and smiled widely. “Especially from you,” you said fondly.

A strong glow emerged from his cheeks. “Especially from you,” he repeated. He wrapped his arms around your torso in a tight hug and placed a smiling kiss on your temple.

I was only planning on writing this for Student From Afar but guess who wrote a Valentine’s Day edition for our shy demon? You guessed it.

Anyways, I hope you have a lovely Valentine’s Day!

[onenerdtwonagas]

Positive Affirmations

((A while back, somebody asked for the story of the first time Orpheus hypnotized Uriah. I did some thinking on it and I think I finally found the right scenario for it!))

“Are you alright, love?”

Uriah glanced over his shoulder and saw Orpheus looking back at him in the dim moonlight. The human had gotten up, unable to fall asleep, his mind too muddled. He’d carefully untangled himself from the naga’s embrace nearly half an hour before and sat in silence at the edge of his bedding, mindful not to bump any of his coils. Perhaps he hadn’t been cautious enough?

“I didn’t mean to wake you up. I’m sorry,” he apologized, voice quiet.

“You didn’t, but your absence did,” Orpheus yawned, pointed fangs catching the light for a moment as he sat up. He rolled his shoulders and neck with a soft crack before looking to Uriah again. Scales whispered against the furs, blankets, and pillows as Orpheus shifted and slithered, coming to rest behind Uriah and putting his arms around him.

“Come back to bed, love...”

“I will, eventually,” Uriah sighed. “You go ahead. You’re tired.”

“Not without you,” he mumbled. The man could imagine the sleepy pout on the naga’s face. Uriah gave one of his hands a gentle pat as he cuddled closer.

“It’s okay, babe. I...just have a lot on my mind.”

“Hmm? Like what?”

Uriah exhaled slowly and Orpheus rested his cheek in his hair. He felt heavier than usual.

“Orpheus, babe, sleep. You’re gonna doze off on me. I’m fine, really.”

“Mmmmnnnooo,” he drawled stubbornly, “not without you.”

“...You’re really not gonna let it go, are you?”

Orpheus shook his head.

“It feels stupid. I hate you even woke up because of it,” Uriah muttered.

“Tell me anyway. You’ll feel better.”

He sighed, loosely holding on to Orpheus’s arms as he tried to find a comfortable way to voice his thoughts.

“I still deal with a lot of the negative stuff from my ex,” he started slowly, quietly. “Not that he’s in my life at all, because I kicked him out and whatever I couldn’t throw in his bags I got rid of, but the feelings. The bad ones. Thinking I’m not good enough, feeling like I don’t deserve you, that sort of thing.”

Orpheus let out a light but somber hum. He turned over one of his hands to hold Uriah’s and interlocked their fingers. It had only been a month or so since they’d admitted their feelings for one another, but perhaps it was naive of the demigod to assume his sweetheart would recover from a painful relationship in such a short time.

“You know you do deserve better, don’t you?”

“Yeah. But knowing and feeling are two different things.”

“Yes, they are,” he agreed. His thumb brushed over Uriah’s. “Is there some way I could help?”

“What do you mean? Like, play therapist for me?” Uriah let out a weak, halfhearted laugh. “That wouldn’t be fair to you. Should probably see a shrink, though...”

“I don’t know what that is, but I was thinking I could try and do something for you. Maybe I could help you forget?”

“With...hypnosis, I’m guessing?” Uriah asked hesitantly.

“I could, you know,” Orpheus offered.

“...Nah. I don’t think I should forget what happened. Move past it and stop internalizing, but forgetting would mean leaving myself open to that kind of manipulation again,” Uriah reasoned. “Can’t protect myself from something I no longer remember, right?”

Orpheus hummed thoughtfully. He did have a point.

“What about affirmations?”

Uriah turned slightly, looking at Orpheus skeptically.

“You plan on flattering me through this?”

“Flattery is excessive. Affirmation is confirming what is true. I think you could use a dose of truth to clear out those negative falsehoods, don’t you?” he asked, cradling Uriah’s hand between two of his own. “Especially if they’re keeping you from proper rest, love.”

“You...wanna use your hypnosis to try this?”

“Only if you’d permit me.”

“I don’t think you’ve ever used yours on me, before.”

“Does the idea frighten you?”

“No,” he answered slowly, “not really? I-I’ve, uh, let Kenny hypnotize me plenty of times.”

He blushed as Orpheus’s eyebrows rose.

“Oh. So you’re familiar with the sensation, then?”

“I-In one way, at least.” Uriah cleared his throat awkwardly. They sat in a moment of odd silence before Orpheus spoke up again.

“Would you let me try, Uriah? At least a little? I only want to help you feel better.”

Uriah bit his lip and squeezed the back of his neck. Hypnosis had a tendency of getting him wound up. It wasn’t a bad thing, necessarily, but his time with Kenneth had left a bit of a subconscious imprint. He didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of Orpheus by suddenly getting turned on; they weren’t anywhere near ready for that step in their relationship, as attractive as Uriah thought the demigod to be. But...he trusted Orpheus not to take advantage. Maybe he could try it, at least this one time.

“I...I-I guess we can try it...”

Orpheus smiled sweetly and kissed his forehead before rising and gently guiding Uriah back towards the bed. He pulled his coils close, providing a space for the man in the bend of his tail.

“Come here,” he whispered. “Sit.”

Uriah did as he was told, albeit with some apprehension. He swallowed thickly as Orpheus’s strong coils could be felt against his back and sides, supporting him. It would only take a few moments for him to coil around him completely, if he wanted... To be in such a compromising position with him, and with the consent to hypnosis given—

“You’re letting yourself get flustered,” Orpheus chuckled, gently poking him between his eyebrows. Uriah blinked, bringing himself back to focus. He looked up at Orpheus sheepishly.

“I-I-I’m sorry. Usually with Kenny this is sort of a...a-an intimate thing?”

“I told you I’d take things slow with you, and I meant that. I’ll behave myself, dearest, I promise. You trust me to do that, don’t you?”

He reached out and brushed his fingertips along Uriah’s cheek, sliding them down to trace his jaw. The man nodded slowly.

“Y-Yeah.”

“Good. Give me just a moment to channel it, then.”

Orpheus closed his eyes and breathed slowly for several moments. Uriah remained still, wondering what to expect, caught mid-thought by Orpheus’s eyes opening with a pale blue, moonlike glow. His body tensed instinctively, but Orpheus kept his fingers against his face in a gentle touch.

“Shhh. It’s alright. You’re alright,” he hushed. “Just breathe, Uriah...that’s it...”

There was the initial spark of excitement Uriah had almost been conditioned to feel, but Orpheus’s soothing tone and his instructions reigned it back in quicker than Uriah could truly register it. He blinked at first, his mind naturally wanting to resist, but the calm glow was waiting for him whenever his eyes would open again. And the more Orpheus guided him through his breathing, the more he recognized an almost echo-like quality to his voice. He’d finish one word, and just as its final vibrations would register in Uriah’s mind there was another. Slow, gentle, rippling...

“There we are, good and calm now, aren’t you? That’s better, isn’t it?” Orpheus asked, smiling as he felt Uriah’s body slacken against the supportive coils behind and at his sides. They pulled a little closer, keeping him steady and stable, allowing his strength to leave him completely. Uriah stared back at Orpheus, at his mercy.

“Nn...Orpheus...?”

The naga hushed him, stroking his hair soothingly. Uriah’s eyelids slid a little lower and he sighed in response to the contact.

“Easy. Just relax. I’ve got you... Now, I think we’re ready to try some of those affirmations, hmm?”

Uriah lacked the strength to nod, but he managed a weak, slurred word of consent. Orpheus slid close, leaning over him as he took one of Uriah’s hand in his own.

“I want you to know that I care about you,” he said, speaking softly. “I care about you very much, Uriah. Do you believe me?”

“...Y-yes,” Uriah mumbled.

“Good. I want you to believe me. Many people care about you. You are loved, dearest. Very much so.”

He brought Uriah’s hand up and pressed his lips against the back of his palm. It sent a pleasant warmth down the length of Uriah’s arm, right to his core. It was different from the sensual heat he knew from Kenneth’s hypnosis. This was...calmer. Not any less sincere, but more...what was the word? There was a word for it... He couldn’t remember. The only words his mind could focus on were the ones coming out of Orpheus’s mouth. He felt them just as much as he heard them. They kissed his ears and melted into his mind, anchoring themselves there.

“I’m going to tell you some truths, Uriah. Ones I want you to remember, even if it’s only little by little. Do you think you can do that? Answer me.”

It took a few breaths, but Uriah gained enough control to respond:

“Y-Yes...”

“Good. After each truth, I’m going to use a gesture to help you remember. A simple one.”

He held Uriah’s hand close, stroking across his knuckles.

“I will tell you a truth to remember. The way I touch you will be how you remember. When I touch you, commit it to memory. Do you understand?”

“Nn...mmhmm...”

“Good.”

Orpheus’s smile warmed. He hadn’t used his hypnosis on someone in such a way before; it felt very nice to physically see Uriah so open to suggestions, helpful ones, rather than struggling against the emotional barriers his past experiences had created. They were gone, at least for the moment. He could disturb their foundation this way, give Uriah the tools to shake them up and finally tear them down for good. It was perhaps the best use of his powers to date.

“Now, where to start...”

He thought over it for a moment, and then began in earnest.

“Uriah, you are worthy of others’ time and attention. You deserve more than scraps and spare seconds.”

Orpheus bent his head, turning Uriah’s hand over and kissing the inside of his wrist. The same tingling warmth shivered it’s way into Uriah’s center. He wasn’t sure how to explain it, but Orpheus could see the recognition and obedience flicker across Uriah’s gaze as it reflected his own hypnotic glow back at him. He was remembering, as he was told. Good.

“You deserve to be heard and listened to,” he continued, that time leaning in and kissing the shell of Uriah’s left ear, and then his right. He moved slowly to avoid stirring Uriah from his trance.

“You should always be your fullest self. Never shrink yourself to fit into someone else’s space.”

His lips pressed against Uriah’s chest, just beneath the collar of his shirt. The man let out a soft sound in response, and Orpheus hushed him before continuing.

“Always remember you have a beautiful, brilliant, compassionate mind. No one can take that from you, or belittle it. Believe in your own strength and stability of mind. Nurture it.”

Orpheus cradled Uriah’s face between two hands and kissed his forehead. He could feel Uriah’s slowed breathing against his skin, the warmth radiating off of him, the gentleness emphasized by his current state... He really did adore him.

“And the last truth I want you to remember,” he said quietly, “is that I care for you. I want nothing but the best for you. And that means loving yourself. Love yourself, Uriah. Fully. Unashamedly. Because I do...”

That time, he brought his lips to Uriah’s, lingering longer than the other kisses prior. It wasn’t sexual, or overly passionate, but there was a genuine, sensual intimacy. Orpheus expressed his full affection so that Uriah’s mind would recognize it. When he finally pulled back, Uriah’s glowing eyes were barely open, his expression soft, and a hint of heat on his freckled cheeks. Orpheus stroked the edges of his jaw for a few moments more.

“Remember all of that, Uriah,” he whispered. “Will you?”

“I...Nn...I-I’ll...remember,” he sighed.

“Good. Good boy, Uriah,” Orpheus praised, combing his claws through his hair.

“And now, love, I think you should rest. You can close your eyes and sleep. I’ll be right here, I promise.”

Orpheus told him to rest. He wanted to look at those eyes for a little longer, but the demigod’s words were so strong. And the sensation of his fingers running through his hair was so comforting. Uriah’s vision flickered.

“Sleep, Uriah,” Orpheus repeated, softer, sweeter.

With a sigh, Uriah finally gave out, the obedience instilled by the trance winning over any residual desires or thoughts. His cheek rested against Orpheus’s scales as his breathing deepened and slowed, finally deep under the influence of sleep. Orpheus settled close to him, using his tail to bring the blankets up over Uriah. He watched him for a few minutes, still tracing the very tips of his fingers along Uriah’s cheek, hoping that he’d managed to get through to him. He hadn’t attempted to use his hypnosis in such a way before, but it appeared to have been working in the moment. Closing his eyes and settling in more comfortably beside Uriah, Orpheus decided to leave it up to time to tell if Uriah’s mind would take any of his affirmations seriously.

Morning came peacefully, the dappled rays of light reaching across the floor of Orpheus’s chamber. Uriah’s eyes cracked open, blinking several times to adjust to the daylight. Where was he...? Oh. Right, right, with Orpheus. Those were his scales against him. He hadn’t slept so deeply in a long time; he felt a little stupid, being so under that he forgot where he was.

“Damn,” he mumbled to himself, sitting up and rubbing at his eyes, “I dunno if Kenny’s even gotten me that deep before...”

His hand moved to shove his bangs back, but the moment he touched his forehead he felt a strange, rippling warmth rush through him. Uriah flinched and gasped, staring at his hand. It didn’t look like anything had been done to it... He gingerly touched his head again and felt the same sensation. His brain buzzed for a few seconds. Pleasantly. It wasn’t brain fog, or a headache, it was...almost like remembering something? Uriah blinked in bewilderment.

“What the...?”

Words. Something about words. His mind scrambled as he drug his hand down the side of his face, trying to sort it out. He looked at his right palm again and brought his left to inspect, but the same jarring feeling caught him off guard as he brushed his own wrist. The initial shock wore away and it instead felt...soothing? Uriah brushed his thumb over his wrist, feeling the warmth creep up in several places.

You deserve time...you’re brilliant...love—

Uriah flinched again and shook himself free of the feeling. It was almost hypnotic itself.

“Geez, what in the world...?”

Beside him, Orpheus finally started to stir. The naga was mid-stretch when Uriah leaned over the large coil between them and stared down with wide, flustered eyes.

“H-Hey! What exactly did you do to me?!”

Orpheus opened one eye.

“Good morning to you, too, dearest,” he yawned dryly. “What do you mean?”

“I-I-I’m feeling...things.”

“What?”

“You did something!”

Orpheus propped himself up on one arm and tilted towards Uriah, looking at him with sleep still fading from his eyes.

“Of course I did ‘something.’ I used my powers on you, love.”

“Yeah, but—“

“Hush,” Orpheus pressed, the tip of his tail rising up against Uriah’s lips. There it was again. Orpheus finally saw what Uriah meant as the man faltered, eyes going hazy and unfocused.

“Ah, I see. Hmm... Perhaps I was a little too intense?” he wondered aloud.

Uriah blinked, feeling that warm buzz wash over him. Pleasant. A reminder of...of affection? That felt right, didn’t it? It...seemed right... He could vaguely recall those words that had echoed around in his head...

“Or...O-Orpheus...?”

“Hold on, let me see here,” the naga tutted, gently touching his fingertips to the place on Uriah’s chest he had kissed during the trance. Uriah drew in a breath, eyes actually closing for a moment, overwhelmed by the sensation. It felt like being held, nurtured. Loving himself. Being loved. Feeling whole and content and unbroken. He felt his mind starting to swim in it, until Orpheus retracted his hand and tail—slowly, so as to prevent Uriah from suddenly slipping when coming out of the light trance-like state.

“My apologies, Uriah. Seems I might’ve overdone it just a bit. The immediate effects will wane, though; it won’t be as strong in a day or two.”

“W-What is it you did, exactly?” Uriah asked, much calmer than he had been a few minutes before.

“I used contact to help secure some of the affirmations to your subconscious,” he explained, shrugging as if it were common sense. Uriah stared at him. Orpheus cleared his throat and tried again.

“I used physical affection to bind the memory of my words to you. Positive touch, positive thoughts. Did they come to you just now?”

“Yeah, a-after a few seconds,” Uriah admitted. “It’s just...uh...a little strange to get used to...”

“The sensation, or thinking positively about yourself?”

Uriah instinctively bit his lip to think, but that triggered the sensation again. He released with a short gasp. Orpheus reached forward and placed his hand against his face, purposefully stroking his thumb across Uriah’s mouth. A shiver ran down his spine, but he mustered up the will to speak.

“H-H-Hey. Easy.”

Orpheus smiled.

“It will wane,” he repeated, “but I hope the thoughts stay. I want you to feel better, to know how special you are.”

“As w-weird as it is, I... I appreciate it,” Uriah thanked him, blushing shyly. They remained still together for a moment, listening to the ambient sounds of the birdsong and rustling of leaves in the morning air.

“Hey, uh... What all did you put in my head?”

“I think you’ll have more fun if you find out for yourself,” Orpheus teased.

“At least tell me one?”

“Oh, very well. Which would you like to know?”

“Maybe...?” He pointed up at his lips, too flustered to say it. Orpheus’s grin widened.

“Love. Pure affection, for yourself from inside and out.”

“Oh.”

That was...surprisingly sweet and genuine. Nothing overly sexual from Orpheus? He had expected at least a little teasing, maybe, but knowing he had stuck to his promise to behave made the warmth in his chest return. The demigod didn’t ask him to change; he made room for him, instead, no ‘shrinkage’ required.

“Can... Can I get another one of those?” Uriah asked, referring to the touch to his lips. His face was growing red. “Y-Y’know, just so I remember right...?”

“You certainly can,” Orpheus purred, leaning close. Uriah didn’t flinch away or tense as he felt the naga’s lips against his own. The warmth that radiated through him felt twofold. And for the first time in at least a year, he allowed himself to think: I deserve this.

[my-writings-and-musings]

Could you do Fort Max and First Aid for the oxygen loss?

Seriosuly loving it, angst and comfort/fluff is the best combination lmao

It is the best combination and those are two of the best boys so I am ON IT! Fort Max is in part eight listed below, but here's First Aid!

Part One: Here!

Part Two: Here!

Part Three: Here!

Part Four: Here!

Part Five: Here!

Part Six: Here!

Part Seven: Here!

Part Eight: Here!

Part Nine: Here!

Part Ten: Here!

Part Eleven: You're Here!

Part Twelve: Here!

First Aid

·Ever one for new experiences, he'd been quite enthusiastic to have a human join the crew, and perhaps it was his penchant for thoroughly appreciating every unknown he came across that had led to your fast paced courtship. The bot had simply demonstrated an almost overwhelming fascination towards you from day one, and in short time the connection between the two of you had been discovered through his efforts. Now you were nearly inseparable. Off days and breaks are always used for bonding, and today is no exception. Atop his lap as he sits comfortably, you happily listen to his enthusiastic and commentary filled reading of a Wrecker's Declassified, loving how he has the most obvious and adorable starstruck look while doing so. You could listen all day just to see his schoolboy crush play out before you.

·For him, having someone who listens and values his opinions without hesitation is enough to get his spark humming. He's rather accustomed to being passed over for bots with more experience and fame, so seeing your eyes focused on him with such rapt attention is... well, it's just nice. Finding you exceptionally adorable doesn't make it any less sweet. Being human also means a great deal of his favorite topics are new to you, so he gets to introduce you to all the wonders of the Wreckers, something that he loves every moment of. It's also not unpleasant to have your tiny body close to his, practically snuggling against him... Cuddling is something more or less new to him as well, so having it at all is yet another wonder you've brought to his life. There's a vague hope in the back of his processor that he'll be brave enough to suggest sharing a berth someday, just for a nice nap together, as he's not yet been brave enough to ask such a thing of you.

·Unfortunately, the universe has very little respect for his plans. Accustomed to interruptions as an always on call medic, he can't help but be a little frustrated when Ratchet starts comming him out of the blue, but he knows better than to show it. Something serious must be going on if their CMO needs assistance. Still in your partner's lap, you watch as he answers the communication, quite used to sudden messages like this pulling him away. It's a part of dating a medic; but nothing about this seems standard. First Aid shifts his expression to one of concern as the voice comes through the comm in broken static, though he's experienced enough to put together what little there is. A warning of failing systems gets him moving on instinct, his arms scooping you up as he moves to stand, and the instructions to head to his emergency stations is almost unnecessary when the line goes dead.

·You're surprised but not offput by the sudden change in your position, if only because being swept into his arms is... very nice. That doesn't prevent you from knowing something is off though, and thankfully he is just as aware of you as he is his responsibilities as a medic, more so of you to tell the truth... A calm visor reflects your face as he lifts you close to relay the situation. Something is wrong with the ship, he explains, and it's bad enough that Ratchet made a preemptive call for medical bots to get moving. That means he needs to get to the medical bay, and before you can ask he brings up the possibility of you coming with him. Worry is just perceptible on his face as he hesitantly expresses that having you there would be safer, and thus he'd feel better... The bashful look is so cute you momentarily forget the danger to give him a reassuring kiss on his faceplate while accepting the proposition.

·Ignoring the stars you make him see with a tiny smooch, he gets right to work, securing you in one arm and ensuring his room is locked before heading out. He can't help but feel protective as he does so, almost like your guard against the threat that feels omnipresent in every hallway. You feel the same, and he can tell by how you hold him tighter in his grasp, something that stirs his spark with almost overpowering affection. It's enough to make him certain he'd fight like a Phase Sixer to protect you... For your part, a similiar drive to keep him safe is present, despite the difference in size between you. Hopefully you help him feel a little more secure as the two of you move through the eerily quiet hallways.

·The protective instincts First Aid has honed in his career as a medic give him a half second warning that danger is inbound, but all he is able to do in that time is curl around you protectively when the world seems to shake itself asunder. Hard floors meet his back in a painful rush, and you're similiarly jostled against him, though thankfully the worst of the blow is softened by his reflexive brace for impact. Tremors continue to rock the ship once you both realize you're on the ground, but a great cacophony of noise fails to die down when the shaking does. It's not a noise you've ever heard before; though you can compare it to metal being torn, the echoing and overbearing sound is at a scale you can't even comprehend.

·First Aid, having a natural coolness under pressure, is able to collect himself even as the situation continues evolving. The alarm begins to go off as he gets himself off the floor, and he notes that had it not the entire crew would probably still be mobilizing. There was no way anybot didn't feel what he just happened to be a front row spectator towards. While being on a ship of soldiers meant backup would soon be available, he had a few concerns that just couldn't wait for the guards to be scrambled. With one path to the medical bay now inaccessible, and you being so vulnerable, he needs to get somewhere safe to plan. He holds you close as the first open room becomes a makeshift shelter.

·Still reeling from the shock of everything, you find yourself atop a table in one of the Lost Light's many maintenance rooms, watching as First Aid attaches a portable operating flashlight to his helm. Before you can ask a single question the light is covering your body as he looks you over, asking for clarification on your basic functions while checking for injuries at the same time. Only when he's satisfied you're stable does the opportunity for speech present itself. Half expecting another massive tremor to hit at any moment, you ask what on earth made the ship move and sound like it had hit a Titan sized can opener, and his visor darkens with worry. You take hold of his hand to reassure and encourage him.

·The explanation is a bit rushed, but understandable; the ship has been ambushed, no doubt the enemy is preparing to board through the makeshift docking station they just created, and enemies will soon flood in... Also, most of the ship's systems appear to be offline. It's bad enough news that you feel suddenly woozy and need to sit back on your little table. Seeing you afraid drives First Aid into action, his processor working overtime to formulate a plan that will get you to safety, though admittedly the situation is a tough one. It's only when he takes proper stock of his surroundings and notes the monitor station that an idea takes shape.

·Intent on finding a clear path, he lays out his plan as he starts typing, explaining his thought process as he hacks into the virus addled program to get what he needs. Though you find solace in his confidence, the surprise from before is still wearing you down. Exhaustion seems to be the only thing you can truly comprehend... First Aid breaks through the enemy programs holding information back, but his victory proves short lived when the many systems start showing their current status, and his triumph turns to horror at one in particular. Critical to your survival, the atmospheric generators are among the malfunctioning systems. Oxygen levels are dropping by the minute. Without a word, he turns on the spot and begins looking you over again, earning a cry of surprise as he scoops you up.

·Alarmed and confused, you haven't a clue what might have spurred the usually in control bot to act so rashly, and have to sputter out the question when your clouded head fails to settle. Something like an explanation pours out of him, but there's very little you understand due to an increasingly sluggish mind. The growing exhaustion alarms him further. There's precious little time before you reach critical levels of oxygen deprivation, and the hypoxia has already rid you of the ability to process the situation... An ache in his spark is joined by one in his head as he tries to formulate a plan, and when he is left with only a long shot, he's forced to take it for your sake. There's a shake in his hands as he cannibalizes the room for parts, throwing together a makeshift air scrubber that will generate just enough breathable oxygen to get you to the medical bay. You smile as you watch him make it, suddenly too tired to stay awake but wanting to watch him craft, if only because his ingenuity is one of your favorite traits. The pleasant haze is still there even as he lifts you again to bring a makeshift oxygen mask to your face and begin running.

·All he can really do is hope, but there's precious little optimism in his spark as he makes the journey to the medical bay in a blind run, not running into enemies by sheer luck. The countless mistakes he's made so far are all that exist beyond your terrifyingly expressionless face. It's distracting enough that he's surprised when the team of Autobots appears from nowhere, particularly as Ratchet is amongst them, but before the CMO can say a word First Aid is pleading with the more experienced medic for help. He feels like a student on their first bad rotation in a hospital ward, facing the possibility of death for the first time, only a million times more agonized because you're on the line. The older bot is mercifully understanding as he gently takes you and guides him back to the medical bay, where he enters a fog and settles in to his job without conscious thought. He sees everything; Ratchet stabilizes you with proper equipment, wounded bots start to come in with news the battle is over, the systems maintaining the ship all come completely online... None of it registers.

·All he can think of is how he failed. The machine he built could have been more effective, he should have predicted oxygen issues from the start, and had he not been distracting you with his foolish interests to begin with... It physically hurts, but he doesn't allow himself even a moment of reprieve from the self admonishment, and dedicates himself entirely to your wellbeing. Every tiny facet of your recovery is microanalyzed, down to the thousandth of a percent. He won't risk losing you to more of his mistakes. It's bad enough that he doesn't permit joy to show on his face when you finally begin to stir, not even cracking a smile when your beautiful eyes finally blink open and you look into his visor. Your own expression, however, immediately shifts to one of exhausted but emphatic relief. Seeing the bot you love alive after the chaos you remember enduring is more than you could have asked for.

·He can't help but be incredibly gentle as he asks how you feel, his affection too strong to ever suppress in its entirety. But you can see the struggle in his actions, having become so accustomed to his presence that the out of character reservation is as obvious to you as a fireworks display, so you quickly ask if he's okay after everything that happened. The innocent question actually makes him flinch. Not a moment later he breaks and loses the calm air of a medic, collapsing into a nearby chair to confess that your injuries are his fault, caused by a myriad of failures he can't reconcile. Head in his hands, he's caught off guard when you make an effort to move from your little bundle of blankets and tubes keeping you stable.

·Before he can say a word to stop you, he is silenced by a little hand taking hold of his digit, and though the mask is firmly fitted you still speak loud and clear enough for him to hear the firmness in your voice. As lovingly as you can, you insist that he stop what he's doing. Loving him is worth any risk, but because he's as resourceful and brilliant as he is, you had made it through a situation most wouldn't have survived. The rest of the universe may not always see his worth, but you do every time you see him. Growing dizzy from the force of your conviction, you're gently shushed and encouraged to lie back, yet to your exhausted delight First Aid appears anything but pained as he works. Adjusting your blankets and tenderly ensuring your comfort, he doesn't need to say thank you through anything but his actions. As always, you've brought him back down from that exhausting despair he grappled with so often in the past. After all, he must be capable indeed to have earned the love of someone so wonderful and unique. The least he can do is show his gratitude in a gentle brush of his thumb over your palm as you drift back to sleep.

[blushing-starker]

Insanity brings me truth and you

can you guess what Peter's doing to not be understood by the guards?

It's not easy, being crazy. There are expectations to run away from, a bar to limbo under, a specific number of people one has to betray and scar. The unknowable becomes knowable, so you have to skirt the edge of that Venn diagram very carefully. Or very recklessly. Either way, it's a complex thing except for when it's not. Jesus, how infuriating to think about. The point is, the paradox that crazies carry on their shoulders? It's a fucking hassle, a tricky one and Peter is tired of it.

He sighs, lets gravity bend him backward, legs slipping dangerously off the blanket he's hung as a hammock inside his cell. Act like a psycho and you're predictable, don't act like an ax wielding murderer and whoops! Predictable. It's the downside of being insane; you leave the weary capitalist consumer mask out in the world, probably set that shit on fire and make yourself sick with the fumes. But you just replace it with the one labelled 'danger to society' and get forced to play along with that. He did what he did to avoid the world and its predetermined fate, its standards.

Peter closes his eyes, thinks of the nauseating smell on his left. Rupert, the guard that dared graze him while he came back from the shower naked, has a broken nose thanks to Ned and his loyalty to him. The idiot barely cleans the open wound and the whole cell reeks of pus because of it. He does the math of how long it's been going on for and shudders in disgust. His bare calves slip a little more.

An inhale near the front of his cage. Slow, but controlled. Not the usual. Thank God for a circus family and heightened senses.

The doctor is paying attention to him.

"Doctor Stark. Gnittor gnihtemos llems ouy nac?" Rupert grumbles from his perch on the second floor, curses a hare brained psycho that's incomprehensible. Peter hums, pleased to know that after ten months, nine days, twelve hours, and...

Breathe in. Breathe out. Focus on sinking deeper into nothing, into a yawning void. The blanket shakes and his thighs are starting to tremble. Blood is rushing to his head, veins most likely beginning to protrude. Irrelevant.

His favorite guard Stan wears a Swiss watch his wife got for him on their fortieth anniversary. It sings to him now, smooth and cool like a river. A skipping stone is thrown, tic, a fish heads towards the sound, toc. Above all the other stimuli in the room, the watch announces itself. Ten fifteen.

Ten months, nine days, twelve hours and twenty minutes into a game, his tiny gnat still hasn't caught on. Not like the charming doctor. He sees him then, behind closed eyelids, as clearly as a sweet nightmare. Tall, taller than Peter, but less strong. Wide shoulders that morph into a slim waist and a delectable ass he aches to sink his teeth into. Shapely calves from running, curiously delicate looking ankles.

Down and back again. A full head of dark hair with a dusting of silver. Dangerously clever mouth, what his aunt would call a noble nose. Agreeable cheekbones. Piercing eyes that tear his walls down, rip apart the bricks and mortar until he's scrambling on the other side, desperately, clumsily attempting to reinforce them for the millionth time. Those eyes saw the trick, the mirror reflection on his second day here, Peter offhandedly talking in reverse with Ned when they passed the new doctor. A dark gaze had pinned him in place, a spider fixed in place with its own silk against the cold dissection table.

Ned had rambled on, Peter had met a worthy playmate and the doctor had seen all he needed in that eternally prolonged glance. That very afternoon, a psychiatrist signed on as his very own voyeur.

Doctor Stark seems to be as interested in cutting him open to peek inside as Peter is in taking a dagger and comparing their hearts. He does this a lot; wonders how fate and the absence of lucky fate led them here. On opposite sides of a prison when perhaps it should be the other way around. Or perhaps there should only be Peter and Doctor Stark.

He feels himself falling, plummeting ever downward into fantasies and hazy dreams. It's not until the good doctor sharply calls out his name that he realizes he's also plummeting towards the floor. Now, MJ had warned him; had specifically said that the hammock being ten feet off the concrete ground was a bad idea. Ned had said he'd be fine and Peter loves the guy, ok? He has to do everything he can so that his best friend wins a bet over his other best friend.

Peter slightly regrets that when he's forced to arch his body backward, flip right side up in order to hit the floor on his feet instead of his face. The impact chokes the air right out of him, shakes his bones, but he doesn't react. Cracks his neck and that's all. Most of the guards were kind, some shade of understanding. They weren't harmless, though. He knows what he looks like, knows how many hours these men are cooped up with the scum of the earth.

"To answer your question," Peter leaps onto the bars of his cell, slithers higher than any sane person would and somersaults off the vertical slits, sinks into his trustworthy hammock with its trustworthy knots (MJ and Ned had tied them, one each), "yes, I do. It's less potent this time."

He stills, frowns. "How? There haven't been any changes. External or internal." No need to act like the Mad Hatter when the conversation could be had normally. Quicker and more reliable with meanings. But the doctor pauses, enunciates his next words slowly.

"Ti koot uoy erom emit yadot." God, he loved hearing Doctor Stark talk that carefully and smoothly. It was as comforting as it was uncomfortable. (He and sex don't particularly get along. It's like a headache that comes and goes; with the right medicine it can dissipate and evolve into something soothing, pleasant. With the majority of medicine, it blossoms into pain and soreness, a dry throat clogged by a thick syrup that won't leave him be no matter how much water MJ and Ned encourage him to drink. Peter isn't yet completely certain which side of his scale the doctor falls on, but he's guessing it's likely the first.)

(The man seemed to live in the grey areas; fitting that with this, too, he'd reside in the in between.)

The reverse effect is in play and he grins, genuine and wide, when he catches it. "Monsters are visiting more frequently, taking up space in the light." His nightmares had intensified recently, and they're starting to accompany him even in moments Peter knows are real; shapes drifting by the corner of his eye. As a coping tactic, he rips parts of his nails off. Not entirely, just the corners. His mind could concoct lots of things, but in his dreams his hands are always pristine.

(He hasn't caught up with it, hasn't noticed that although his nightmares have a clearness to them, a bright intensity, Peter can't shift enough focus to realize his hands aren't his own. They never are. But he usually has more pressing bodies to deal with than the good doctor's.)

Another pause, this one being done by Tony Stark, doctor and healer of men, instead of Doctor Stark, curious keeper of deranged souls. "I'm sorry to hear that. Maybe this will help." Peter peers over the edge of the grey hammock, watches with interest as the doctor approaches his cell with a glass bottle of clear liquid sloshing inside. The other man stops an inch away from the bars, looks up at Peter.

There's a slow tension simmering between them, something as thick and addictive as honey. There's scientific curiosity, a desire to seek out and maybe comprehend the unknown lurking inside their mirror image, as other and as alike as oneself. But there is also a gleam of something he's afraid of acknowledging in Doctor Stark's eyes. A madness once tucked away steadily unraveling itself with each glance they share.

Peter returns the look, unblinking and thinking. " 'If you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you.' " A lesson Nietzsche offered to those wise enough, sane enough to live blind.

The doctor raises an eyebrow, is otherwise still. Sometimes, if Peter considers their current predicament for too long, his grasp on his masks loosens, and the Spider begins to spin its deadly thread round and round its very own body. He sees a guard exchange money with a partner; the crazy quota has, he guesses, been filled for the week. And they had such a nice streak going on, too. Oh, well. This web is unavoidable anyways.

He pitches himself forward, is the one who controls the descent instead of gravity this time. Letting the air rush up to meet him, he inhales, tastes a distinct sharpness around him. Crouching, Peter takes it all in, every last detail. Looks, really looks, at the doctor and suspects.

As if he were none the wiser, he calmly heads to the front of the cell. Meets the doctor at the divide and wonders what it'll be. Wonders if he'll rise higher than ash and flame, an acrobat testing the fates by flying just seconds ahead of death. Doctor Stark hands him the bottle and he can see now, tiny pieces of lavender. A distraction for the guards. "That should keep the monsters in the dark. Use it before you got to sleep and tuck away your hair."

Like a schoolgirl with a crush, he self consciously brings a hand to his curls. They're getting a bit long, but the warden only allows haircuts once a month or two. "I don't have anything to use." Digging into his lab coat, the other man retrieves a single black stick.

Well, to everyone else it's a hair pin. Peter knows the truth though, can see it and smell it and very nearly touch it. As it is, he gently plucks the items out of elegant hands and refuses to look at them. Looking draws attention. Doctor Stark gazes at his face, eyes flickering in a rehearsed way around his own, but not into them. That's alright, he understands.

"The lack of movement around your face should also help." The question of why is out before he can reel it in and act as a sane, normal person. Christ, he could handle crazy, not rude. He would have to practice being in control so as not to slip up when the doctor is around. Said doctor cocks his head, doesn't have to do anything more for Peter to get the message: go on, ask the devil why he made the deal.

Peter B Parker does not back down when intrigued. "Why are you helping me sleep better?"

Why help me escape?

"It's my duty." Three words. Not the explicit declaration of affection typical, normal, dull people receive from an admirer or partner. Not a grand proclamation of wanting what the heart wants, or a sonnet regarding the connection between star crossed paramours. Simple, short, concise; enough to turn to religion, to sanctity and salvation if it means hearing it again. He'd do anything, including putting on a discarded mask from his past if it gets him what he desires. Peter would suffer through sanity for this man. He would if it means hearing what sounds silent to those around them.

You're my duty. Whatever happens tonight, Doctor Stark believes it's his duty to see it through. To see him through, in a way.

"Why would you accept?" Ah, silly doc thinking any of his principles have changed since the first time they met, since the first time he brought fire to life and gave death in return. Peter smiles, brings forth the prisoner that had not seen the light of day in almost a decade.

(His uncle often said Peter's greatest gift to the world was his smile, his true smile. His aunt said it was the final move needed to capture a king and make him his pawn.)

"Why, doc, you know I hate to be bored." Call him a psycho, a freak, a sick, pitiful creature. Call him anything and everything and maybe those words would ring true. But Peter will never allow himself to be bored, not when there's so much fun to be had. Especially with a doctor as crazy as he is. "This looks...promising."

" 'He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster.' " The first part of Nietzsche's warning.

"Nietzsche didn't understand; those who fought monsters were already fated to become what they struggled to defeat. They believed salvation could be found by killing the monsters outside, but all they did was feed the ones inside."

Anthony Stark, the truest version, grins at him, all glinting eyes, sharp teeth and a crooked smile. Peter Parker, armed with a match, gasoline and soon to be glass shards, grins right back. In this instant, being crazy isn't such a hassle. After all, he has someone to share the crazy with now.

[mudskip-muses]

@not-bcring​ cont. from (X)

Expression never once shifting, save for the faint twitch of a lip in irritation, the former breeder watched the display before him with blatant disinterest, the ramblings of the mad never once bringing him the despair he so craved, no matter how many times he had heard it. He didn’t speak once in the time he stood there, even when Nagito was through. One might think he was mulling over his thoughts, seeking the best way to deescalate, or perhaps escalate the situation, but no, he simply did not care enough to voice what lay in his mind. 

Not even watching someone who was once his classmate, or, dare he say, a friend, struggle against his pet’s iron grip stirred anything within the wasteland that was once his heart. There was no fear in the other boy’s eyes, no true want of escape, no need for survival, there was almost hope reflected back in the deranged face slowly succumbing to the agonizing death laid before him. 

Pathetic.

With another snap of his fingers, the snake released the white haired boy, slithering back to it’s master and wrapping about his own body, head coming to rest on his shoulder as the pair stared at Nagito, the breeders eyes almost seeming to reflect the scarce light of the room in their mismatched irises, the only sign of life left in the former Ultimates body. “...There is no despair in a death so badly craved. No meaning in what is so freely given.” It seemed Nagito would live for now, though who was to say how long that would last.

For a moment, Gundham wondered if perhaps he would be the one to spill his blood upon the floor instead. It only seemed fitting, to lose his very life essence in the house he himself had provided for his mother. Would his soul linger here? Would he haunt these hall even in death, longing to see the dear angel whose presence once shined in each room? 

No, even that was too pleasant of an end for one such as him. He didn’t deserve to die here, surrounded by the memories.

As bandaged fingers stroked the snakes scales, the silence that filled the room was deafening now, the overlords head tilting to the side as he contemplated the man before him. “What master of fate deemed you worthy enough to walk freely into my-” Gundham cut himself off suddenly, a sharp inhale choking at his lungs along with the vile taste of the word that still sat heavy upon his tongue: home. 

This hadn’t been a home for quite some time. No, that died along with the angel, laid to rest in her garden out back, the one under the birdfeeders that had always seemed to be filled, now laying empty upon the ground. The only color still present in what was once a place filled with the rainbow itself could be found in the sunflowers that grew over her grave, ever present despite nary a soul tending to them as the days rolled on. 

They demanded to persist, like the love that still faintly echoed down every hall of memories. Love that still lingered in the pictures on the wall, in the faded floral dresses that still lay neatly tucked where they were left in the drawers of her dresser, in a frayed sunhat, bleached near white from years of wear hanging by the door, in the old dusty chair by the fireplace, logs still half burned in the hearth with her knitting resting on the cushions, what looked to be a deep purple scarf forever destined to sit there in a perpetual state of halted progress as it rotted away to nothing.

And in the eyes of her son, standing stock in the kitchen, tears threatening to spill from his cold, mismatched eyes. It was too bad he had lost the ability to cry long ago, the angel taking that with her as well.

With a hard swallow, Gundham turned his back to Nagito, knowing very well that if the man were foolish enough to try and kill him now, his snake would strike him down without hesitation. “Why are you here, cursed one? Whose bidding do you carry?”

[lu-undy]

Request #5

"Mundy goes to the pool on a hot day and a certain someone catches his eye, and that certain someone is eating an ice cream veeeery suggestively." Here it is!

"Hey, Snipes! Come and have a swim!" 

The Aussie grumbled from his plastic lounging chair.

It was a day off for the mercenaries and it was one of those days where a pool would do everyone some good. Luckily enough, that was where all the mercenaries were, in a pool! Of course the Administrator wasn't ready to privatise the place for them so there were other people around and in the pool itself.

Sniper was lazily lying on a chair, his hat on his face, somewhere between asleep and awake. Relaxing. He was just taking a break off work and let his mind swim free, as his skin sizzled under the sun. 

He thought about the previous days of battles, what he did, what he could have done better - being a professional doesn't mean being perfect. The background noises of people's chatter and lapping sounds of the water provided him the perfect acoustic space for his thoughts to fly free. 

It obviously smelt of chlorine but sometimes, as someone passed in front of him, Sniper would pick up a faint smell of sunscreen or even sometimes their perfume. It would mostly happen with women, rarely with men. 

Sniper took a deep breath and decided to look around. He pushed the hat away from his face and rubbed his face and eyes, before opening his eyelids. Thank God for his sunglasses, the white pool reflected the light like aluminium itself…! 

The Aussie looked down at himself as he put his hat back on his head, and he adjusted his posture on his seat. Yeah, the sun was starting to leave its print on him as he could see down his navy blue, Australia flag, swimming shorts that a tan line started to appear. 

"Hm." He nodded to himself and crossed his hands on his chest. He took the beer that was on the floor next to him, in the shadow of his chair and took a few lazy sips, just to wet his lips. 

Sniper let his eyes scan the crowd, in the pool first. Most of his colleagues were there. Soldier, Demoman, Scout, Pyro and Engineer, without his goggles for once. They seemed to enjoy their time greatly in the water. Soldier even seemed to have made friends with the children there, while of course being supervised by Demoman.

"What is this, private?" He asked, holding a ball in his hand. 

"A ball, Sir!" The kids answered. 

"No, you maggots! This is a cannon ball and you must use it to destroy your enemies! Do you understand this?!"

"Sir! Yes, Sir!" The kids answered, saluting.

"And who are the enemies?!"

"Commies, Sir!" 

"Soldier, mate, this is-" 

"Shush! Demoman! We need to educate the young ones! These are the defenses for tomorrow's America! And by God, I won't let an Englishman with a dress stop this!" Soldier turned to the kids. "See, privates? These are the kinds of threats to America! And what do we do when we see a threat to America?" 

"We attack, Sir!" The kids shouted back. 

"Yeeeeah!" Soldier answered. "Now let's attaaaack!"

"But… Sir?" A little kid was raising his hand. 

"Yes, private?" 

"You told us to raise our shovels and attack but we have no shovels here. Does that mean we will lose?" The poor little child asked, distraught.

"Listen, son. A fine soldier doesn't need shovels to fight. Who needs shovels, weapons or college-taught strategies when you love the stars and stripes?! I have crapped losses worse than that and look at you! Your simple existence is proof that we will win. As long as America exists, we will win! Do you understand, private?

"Uh… No, I don't really-"

"Then ATTAAACK!"

The children didn't hesitate and started chasing Demoman down in the pool.

Sniper rolled his eyes with a smile, behind his aviator glasses. His eyes then swept across the chairs around the pool. Ah, there were Medic and Heavy, sitting side and by side and chatting with a beer in their hands. Good for them. 

The rest of the crowd was made of strangers, men, women and children. 

"Ice cream?" 

Sniper's head swooshed to whoever was talking to him. It was a man who seemed to sell different kinds of ice-creams. 

"Nah, thanks, mate." 

The man nodded and pushed his little-trolley stand along. Sniper's eyes followed him for a while until his mind realised that something was wrong. 

Where was Spy? 

The Aussie looked in the pool again but no one was wearing a mask. His eyes then snapped to the crowd but again, no one around the pool was wearing a mask. And he knew Spy wouldn't remove it. Last time they had gone to the beach, he had kept it all along, under the parasol. 

Ha, now that he thought back about it, Sniper smiled. It had been a more pleasant experience than he had anticipated. He had ended up sharing most of his afternoon with Spy, chatting about anything, surprisingly enough. They had gone through wildly different topics from food, drinks, with a long bit about wines and beers, which then led to gardening of all things and childhood souvenirs of stealing fruits in neighbours' gardens…

Yeah, it had been nice, Sniper thought, and he certainly hadn't expected the Frenchman to be that talkative. Of course, on a scale from Administrator-talkative, to Scout-talkative, Spy was closer to the former. But his inputs in the discussion captured Sniper's interest and tickled his curiosity. He also discovered that Spy was as good at answering as he was at listening. He could fall silent and absorb whatever Sniper would say with keen attention. 

Shame he wasn't anywhere near. A cold beer, the sun and a good chat were a great combo for Sniper's morale. But he shall do without the good chat… 

His gaze went back to the ice-cream vendor and he saw a man buy one before leaning back on his chair. He was sitting at the opposite end of the pool, almost exactly face to face with Sniper. The man had paler skin than Sniper's and was wearing a pair of black sunglasses. 

What caught Sniper's eyes was the ridiculous speedos that he was wearing, dark blue, with a little logo that the Aussie couldn't see from where he was. Speedos… Who the hell wore those? Well apparently that mad guy did. 

Sniper squinted and stared. To be honest, that man could afford it and it did his body a few favors… He had a lean chest with what looked like salt and pepper chest hair, a stomach thinner than Sniper's, and he could clearly see a sharply drawn V-line diving to the swim wear. He gulped and his eyes moved back up. 

He had short, salt and pepper hair too. A lighter lock at the front, above his forehead and on his temples. The rest was black. Sniper couldn't say much apart from the fact that he looked quite handsome and his posture on the chair clearly showed that he knew it. 

Slim and elegant bastard even with speedos… 

Sniper watched as a group of women passed him, he lowered his sunglasses and winked at them. They chuckled and covered their mouths with their hands. 

What a bastard… Didn't have more to do than a wink to get a sheila.

They walked away and the man pushed his glasses up, resting them on his head, through his hair before starting to savour his ice-cream. By the colour of it, it must have been vanilla, or lemon, something white-ish.

Sniper stared longer as the man raised his eyes in his direction and started licking the ice-cream. 

The Aussie gulped. 

Was he looking at him, straight? How did he know that Sniper was watching him at that distance and with the yellow aviators hiding his eyes…?

Gosh, was he really-?

The man stuck his tongue out and lasciviously dragged it along the white, cold ice-cream, all while maintaining eye-contact with him?

What the hell does he want? How does he know that-? Oh, God…

Now, he was licking the cone from the side all the way up and a vicious smirk appeared on his lips. 

Sniper looked left and right. The seats next to him were empty. Ah, yeah, he had chosen that spot both because it was in the sun and also precisely because no one was there… Ah… He removed his hat and fanned himself with it. 

Meanwhile, the man with the light blue eyes staring at him continued his show and licked his ice-cream, cocking an eyebrow before taking it in his mouth and pulling the creamy snack into a cone shape. His lips were covered in white which he promptly licked, and Sniper's guts flipped inside himself. He quickly looked at his shorts and it started to show...

Bugger… He sweated and gritted his teeth.

Sniper slammed his hat on his lap to hide what his body betrayed. And breathed deep. 

C'mon, he couldn't be doing that to him, could he? But there was no one around and - oh, bloody hell, oh God damnit… 

Still with a smirk on his lips, the man stood up and let the sunglasses fall on his eyes. He went on licking the God forsaken ice cream as he walked around the pool. Sniper’s body temperature rose sharply. He didn’t know if he preferred the man to come to him or pass him and not even give him a look.

Sniper’s eyes were stuck, his heart was pounding in his chest and he tried to bury himself in his chair as deep as he could. The silhouette of the man kept on getting bigger and bigger. Sniper closed his eyes and pretended to sleep. He counted the time and pricked his ears to better hear the footsteps. He heard it stop and he heard the wicker of the chair next to him creak.

Sniper’s eyebrows twitched as he kept pretending he was asleep.

“Good choice of beer.”

The Aussie’s eye snapped open as he recognised the voice with the French accent. He looked around him, Spy was nowhere to be seen.

“And no need to pretend you are asleep, Bushman. A child would fake it better than you do.”

Sniper’s jaw dropped. The man next to him, with the bottle of beer that Sniper had been drinking from in his hand, was that the man who had just spoken?

“Here, some ice-cream could do you some good.” He handed him the ice cream and astounded as he was, Sniper held it in his hand, absent-mindedly.

“Is that you?” Sniper asked as the man on the lounging chair next to him lay completely down and put the bottle to his lips again, taking a sip.

“Who do you mean?” He grinned smugly.

“Bloody hell, it is! What happened to your mask? What the…?”

“And what happened to your hat?” Spy asked, smirking behind his black sunglasses. “Why is it not on your head? The sun might get to your pale skin, Bushman.” He said in irony. 

"Holy dooley, Spook you-you scared the hell out of me! I thought it was a random bloke starin' at me with his ice-cream."

"So you are reassured that it is in fact, me?" Spy asked. "Oh, be careful, the ice cream is melting."

Sniper looked in his hand and realised that indeed it was flowing on the cone. He stuck his tongue out and licked it before he stopped sharp and realised what he was doing. 

"Hold on, that's your ice cream and my beer." 

"Well, I guess we will have to avoid telling Soldier that we share them. With his allergy to communism, he might be angry at us both."

"What're you doin'?" Sniper gave him back his ice-cream and took his beer from Spy's hand. "And d'you have an idea how you were eatin' that ice-cream? I could see you all the way from here, 's not decent, Spy." 

"You should have seen at what speed you turned crimson. Besides, which is not decent? My eating of this ice-cream or your covering yourself with your hat?" 

Sniper grumbled and frowned. 

"Come on, Sniper. It was all done in good fun." 

"Ice-cream?" The vendor was back. 

"Oui, please, for my grumpy friend."

Sniper exhaled from his nostrils like an angry bull.

"What flavour?" 

“Something different from mine, please.”

Spy paid for it and the ice-cream man left the two colleagues alone.

“Here, to cool you down.”

Sniper turned his head and saw the Frenchman handing him the cone. He sighed and accepted it.

“You are welcome, Sniper.”

“Mh.” The grumble was the only answer that Spy received. 

Both of them stayed mute for a while. They finished their ice creams while watching people come and go. The families with children were the first to leave, when the kids were tired out and hungry. A group of women came to pass by. Sniper watched his colleague from the corner of his eyes.

“Mesdames...”  He pulled down his sunglasses and slid one leg on the other. The ladies in question blushed and chuckled at the French womanizer.

[Ladies...]

Sniper rolled his eyes and looked away. 

About half an hour later, Scout came to him.

“Yo, Snipes, uh, Engie sent me to tell you we were off, you comin’?”

“Nah.”

“Oh, ok… Uh, have you seen Spy? We’ve been lookin’ for him but no one’s seen him for ages.”

Spy, who was right next to Sniper, listened carefully.

“Don’t worry about him.”

“Well, Engie’s kinda worried cause-”

“I said: don’t worry about him.”

Scout had obviously felt the animosity in Sniper. He nodded and left him in peace. Soon after, a lifeguard came to both men.

“We are about to close, gentlemen.”

“Ah, I wanted to ask you something, if I may.” Spy stood up and walked with the lifeguard, away from Sniper, along the pool. When he came back, the lights in the building were switching off, leaving only the ones in the pool itself.

Sniper stood up and collected his empty bottle. 

“Where are you going?”

“You heard the guy, they’re closing.”

“Oui, they are.” Spy resumed his seat and lay back as comfortably as before, if not more. He removed his sunglasses from his nose and put them aside. 

Sniper started walking away and stopped sharp. He turned to Spy and sighed. 

“Aren’t you gonna get out?”

“Non.”

“Spy, they’re gonna kick you out.”

“Non, they will not.”

“C’mon, stop bein’ an arse and come along.”

“Take a seat.” Spy invited his colleague and Sniper obeyed, not without rolling his eyes to the sky. 

“Now they’re gonna kick us both.”

“Non, they will not.” Spy insisted.

“Yeah, they will, you heard the lifeguard guy.”

“I did, and proceeded to convince him to leave me the keys.”

“What?”

“You heard me. There is only you and me here. Now, relax please, and let us enjoy one of those conversations. I believe we were left with you telling me about your neighbours’ apricots and how you used to steal them when you were a child.”

“Spy.” Sniper was much more serious than his colleague.

“Oui?”

The only noises around them were the lapping of the water as it flowed to the filtering pumps, rumbling away.

“Why did you do what you did with your ice-cream?”

“Because I had my doubts.” Spy answered.

“About what?”

“It does not matter, I am now sure.”

The air cooled down as the night progressed.

“Sure of what? What did you want to know? You could’ve just asked.” Sniper lay back and crossed his arms on his chest. 

Spy stood up and walked to the edge of the pool. He dipped a toe, then two and slightly nodded before taking a little step back, raising his arms, joining his hands and elegantly dived in. Sniper’s eyes never left the silhouette of the slim man who now surfaced again, fluidly breaking the surface tension of the water. Spy wiped the water away from his face, and carded his wet hair back, he was beautifully lit by the turquoise water.

“Come on, join me.” Spy gestured to Sniper. “The water is deliciously warm.”

“Tell me first. What did you wanna know?”

Spy moved to the edge of the swimming-pool and crossed his arms that he rested at the edge of it. 

“I was wondering if, perchance, you were cursed similarly to me.”

Sniper walked to the edge of the pool and sat down, his legs in the water up to his knees.

“What d’you mean?”

The Frenchman held his hand out and Sniper stared at it, before his eyes rose to Spy’s irises. He could see the waving patterns of the water on his already light blue eyes. Sniper raised his hand and it floated above Spy’s for an instant before he dropped it in it. The Frenchman nodded in thanks and Sniper entered the pool fully. He dived in and when he surfaced again, he opened his eyes to the sight of Spy looking up to him. He blushed.

“What did you mean, Spook?”

Spy gave a lopsided grin. 

“The way you stared and blushed while I was having my ice-cream.” Spy started. “And then, your covering of your lap. I was asking a question and your body answered without your lips having to.”

Sniper’s cheeks and ears burnt. He frowned and walked back to the edge of the pool.

“So what now, hm? Gonna use that against me? Gonna blackmail me or something? I don’t have anythin’ to lose.” Sniper gave his back to Spy, the water reached his hips. He put his hands left and right and his fingers were grasping the edge of the pool hard.

“Non.” 

Sniper’s eyes snapped wide and his pupils retracted to a dot. He looked down and two arms were laced around him. He could also feel the warmth of Spy’s body leaning against him from behind. Spy was… hugging him?

“I would never.” Spy added and Sniper was now sure. He felt his voice resonate through himself. Spy was resting his head against Sniper’s upper back.

“Spy… I… Hm.” Sniper closed his eyes and took that leap of faith. That mad jump, that reaction that no one expected of him, not even himself. He frowned and raised his hands to  hold Spy’s forearms.

“I just wanted to know, if by any stroke of luck, you too felt… comfortable when we were sharing conversations, if you too felt like you wanted more of these discussions, if you too wanted to see me again, soon perhaps?”

“O’course I did.” Sniper answered in a sigh, a hoarse whisper of his voice.

Both were whispering despite nobody else being around to hear them. Sniper turned to face Spy and the Frenchman raised round, kitten-like eyes to him, with a faint smile, but his eyebrows were asking a question, the question that his lips were trembling to ask, but couldn’t. Sniper was simply seized by the view. So that was what Spy looked like under the mask? Yeah, gorgeous and a half, eh. Only man on Earth who could wear a pair of speedos and not look like a mongrel.

Sniper’s hands found Spy’s sides without looking anywhere else but in his eyes. He wrapped his arms around the smaller man and pulled his naked and wet frame against his own.

“Course, I did.” He repeated before bending his head down for his lips to be in front of Spy’s ear. “You arrogant, posh, unbearable idiot.” Sniper had one hand on Spy’s hair and another on his lower back. “You… You’re gorgeous with and without the mask.”

Spy’s eyes shone brighter and he smiled.

“Merci.” He chuckled. “So do you, but I must admit that I prefer you without the glasses or the hat. It feels more… intimate.”

“Yeah, same without yer mask, eh.” Sniper smiled. “Feels special.”

“By the way, thank you for what you said to Scout.” Spy said.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t really know what to say.”

“Still, you did not tell him that I was there next to you. I appreciate your discretion.”

“You’re welcome… C-Can I…?” Sniper’s hand hovered next to Spy’s face.

“Oui, please.”

When his fingertips met the Frenchman’s skin, both men felt shivers like sparks along their spines. Spy closed his eyes and felt Sniper’s finger gently trace his face, discovering it all as if he was a blind man. But no, Sniper was far from blind, he just wanted to confirm that what he was seeing wasn’t a hallucination. No, the man standing in front of him had the most comely features he had seen. A slim face, equally slim cheeks with cheekbones that are jutting just what they should, long dark eyelashes, a slightly hooked nose and thin lips. Gosh those lips…

“I…”

Spy opened his eyes and couldn’t help it but his cheeks turned pink when he saw the way that Sniper’s eyes were crossing down on his lips. He smiled and pushed himself to the tip of his toes.

Sniper’s eyes shut hard and he frowned. He tasted the chlorine on Spy’s lips and oh - vanilla, on his tongue.