After developing the ability to trap ghosts in pocket dimensions where they can feed thier obsessions without bothering him, Danny and co begin to grow bored and explore the Infinite Realms.
Danny had always known he was a clone, with his earliest memory having been being kidnapped from the lab he was made in -via people he still didn't know to this day-and shoved through a mysterious blue portal before being found by the Fentons. Danny accepted he didn't know who his biological parent or parents were and probably never will.
Thats why he was even more shocked than his friends when they went to a place called Gotham and met someone who looked like an older (or in damians case: younger) version of Danny.
Now Danny had a few options for a response. Sure he and his friends could just run but where's the fun in that? He could:
1. Give them a tearful look and say "Dad? Is that really you?"
This can also be said as mom in case of Cass or Selina
This is funniest if its said to either Tim or Damian because Danny is like 15 in this and Tim isn't that much older than Dannys appearent age and Damian looks younger than him
2. Stare at them and say, "Oh, you're the person I was cloned from?" And act like everything's normal. Maybe ask if they need an organ and if thats why they tracked him down.
3. Ignore it and act like its a coincidence they look exactly the same.
4. Act scared of them. Maybe beg them to not kill him for added dramatic affect
5. Ask if they like dogs and shove Cujo into thier arms before they can answer.
They suddenly get rapid fire sniffs and then a torrent of puppy kisses.
6. Panic and trap them in a pocket dimension like the ghosts and have to figure out how to get them out before they get in trouble. Maybe its too late and they have to get them out while dodging bats
7. Try to convince them they're hallucinating
8. Just let them sneakily take a sample of his DNA just to see what happens. Dont even acknowledge the clone thing. Even if presented with the dna tests, Deny, Deny, Deny.
9. Convince them they and the others knew about him for years and that they're memories may have been altered. Escape when their guard is down/they're not looking.
10. Pineapple. Not really sure how that will help but now there's pineapples everywhere. Danny might be hungry if he's teleporting fruit into his vicinity from just a thought, but that may also be because he's suddenly developing teleportation powers.
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Dark Paradise
You try to adjust to a new life, married and living in a manor. But you quickly realize that not everything is what it seems, including your mysterious and devilishly handsome husband, Michael Langdon.
Warnings: 18+, DUB-CON, violence, murder, demon!Michael, blood kink, pain kink, breeding kink, dacryphilia
Word Count: 4.2k
You’re not sure if you’ll ever get used to the dark corridors where shadows dance in your periphery, or the damp smell that makes you feel like you’re underground. It smells of rotting fruit, a slow and lingering decay, almost like death surrounds you.
As long as it doesn’t reach you.
You’re also not sure if you’ll ever get used to the man that haunts these grounds. This tall, dark manor that sits in the middle of nowhere.
He’s not dead, he’s just your husband.
His appearances to you are scarce, only really seeing him at mealtimes and occasionally passing him in hallways.
He’s elusive, mysterious to you in ways you cannot comprehend. Ever since you arrived at the manor, all you’ve had are questions.
For an unknown reason, you can’t remember your life before this place. All you know is you were married off to a man named Michael Langdon.
Sometimes, you have the strangest dreams with a house that feels like the complete opposite of here. One filled with love and light and white walls, and not this frigidness that wraps around you now.
The days almost feel like they go on forever, blending together as nothing surprising happens.
Until one night, you’re pulled out of a peaceful slumber by a piercing scream.
It takes you a moment to blink away the sleep, wondering if it was real or part of a dream.
It doesn’t take long before another one echoes throughout the manor. It’s shrill, a seemingly female scream.
You clutch the soft sheets under you, your heartbeat loud in your ears.
You think about whether you should lie back down, ignoring it and going back to sleep. But you don’t think you could even if you wanted to.
Perhaps against your better judgement, you leave your bedroom, with only a candle lighting your path through the dark hallways.
Your white nightgown sways as you step between walls covered in paintings. The dim candlelight casts shadows on the faces, giving them a particularly ghoulish look.
You keep walking, hoping to find some sort of sign of what it is that woke you up. You’re not even sure where the scream exactly came from.
Before you can reach Michael’s room, a chill sweeps past you, extinguishing your candle, leaving you shivering in the dark.
A disembodied voice calls out your name in the form of a question.
“What are you doing out of your room?” he asks.
You instantly recognize the voice, and it stops you in your tracks. You swallow as he steps closer to you. Michael is holding a candle, illuminating the glare on his face.
“I thought I heard something. It woke me up,” you say nervously.
“I didn’t hear anything,” he replies, his brow furrowing.
“It sounded like a scream. I thought someone might have gotten hurt.”
“Are you sure you didn’t just have a nightmare?” he asks in an almost mocking manner, a cruel smirk growing on his lips.
“No-.” You sigh, stopping yourself. “No,” you say again, this time quieter.
“Come on. I’ll tuck you in and look under your bed for monsters,” he says, trying to step past you with a teasing grin on his face.
“I know what I heard, Michael.”
He stops, mere inches from your face and he can see the seriousness that settles in your eyes.
It doesn’t stop his own icy blue eyes from growing colder.
His gaze rakes over you before he leans in closer, warm breath fanning over your lips as he says, “you didn’t hear anything, Y/N. Time to go back to bed.”
You think your own breathing has stopped before he leaves you, going back to his bedroom.
That’s when your goosebumps return, Michael taking all warmth with him.
You’ve sat in the library all day, reading by the window as rain hits the glass. You decided that you’ll read every book in this place since you don’t have much else to do. You’re on 28 out of 11,200. Thunder rumbles above you as you turn the page.
Nothing has happened since you heard the scream, helping you to believe that it was either a dream or your sleep-addled imagination. You tried asking your handmaid if she heard anything that night, but she said no, giving you a strange look like you might be going mad.
You quickly shut up about it.
Michael hasn’t brought it up, which you’re somewhat grateful for because if he did, it would probably be to make fun of you some more.
Even if he has been polite enough about it, it’s been difficult to be around him. He’s always had an intense gaze but something about it has changed. It lingers for too long.
You think that’s always been the case. But now you react differently, a heat growing in your cheeks and a fire igniting in the pit of your stomach.
“Are you hiding from me for a reason?”
You practically jump, startled by the deep voice near your ear.
You close your book and look over your shoulder, finding Michael standing behind you. Amusement lights up his face and his hands are clasped together behind him.
“Do you normally spend your time in here?” he asks, eyes scanning the room, finding books from floor to ceiling and a fire raging, keeping you warm.
“Sometimes.”
You stare at him, still confused as to why he’s bothering you. Shouldn’t he be busy with something?
“So why do you seem to be in here more than you used to be?”
He steps over to the chair you’re sitting in, wood creaking underneath him. He looks over your shoulder, reading the title of your leatherbound book.
You swallow, able to smell the rich scent he wears. It’s musky with a dash of sweetness, like a piece of fruit being harvested from the earth.
“Just reading more, I guess,” you finally answer his question.
“Hm, well I wanted to apologize for the other night.” He pauses, like it’s hard to get the words out. “You were obviously shaken, and I could’ve been nicer.”
Even if his apology could be more genuine, at least it’s an apology.
“I also want to give you something,” he says before placing something on a side table near you.
You pull your brows together as you take in the gift.
“A pomegranate?” you ask, moving your gaze to him, eyebrows raised.
He picks the piece of fruit back up, mischief dancing in his eyes. In one motion, he cracks the rouge skin open, revealing hundreds of little seeds.
He gathers exactly four seeds in the palm of his hand, setting the rest of the fruit back down.
Without saying anything, he brings his hand closer to you, offering it as if you have no choice but to accept.
You hesitate for a moment before reaching to grab them from the palm of his large hand.
But when your skin brushes against his, a gasp falls from your lips, an image flashing in front of you.
It’s Michael, but he looks different…wearing different clothes than he wears now, almost like a school uniform.
The pomegranate seeds fall to the floor before you look up at him.
There’s a question in his eyes that almost matches yours. But it’s just a flicker of confusion before it disappears, turning into irritation.
He clasps his hands together again before leaning down to you and saying lowly, “if you make a mess, you must clean it up. Remember that.”
You keep your eyes away from him, not able to look at him. You can faintly hear him walk away, but your mind is too focused on the words that seem to have another meaning to them. A meaning that makes heat swirl inside you.
The sun is out today, but just barely. It peeks slightly behind gray clouds. You’ll take it over nothing, deciding it called for a stroll in the garden.
Except, as you look around, you realize there isn’t much of a garden. The flowers seem to be withering away, drooping without life and leaves almost crumbling to dust.
It must be the lack of sunshine, you think as you frown.
It’s so hard to find beauty in a place like this, instead only finding death and tragedy.
Without intending to, your mind wanders to a certain someone. You suppose not all beauty is lost.
You still have been avoiding Michael to the best of your abilities, still unsure what happened that day in the library.
You’re also unsure of your growing feelings for him. He is your husband, but it’s also true you two never consummated the marriage.
He never wanted to, and at first, you were grateful. But now, as you think of his golden curls and sharp jawline that could have been crafted by the gods themselves, you wonder if it would help ease the tension between you. Maybe it’s what you need to do in order to have a normal conversation with him.
But nothing about him is normal. He might be beautiful, but you can’t ignore the darkness that lies in his eyes and makes up his entire being.
You stop, finding a faded yellow flower sprouting from the ground. You bend down, pulling it up. Standing up, you stare at it in your hand, and you can’t help but wish it was alive.
You sigh, eyes closing, almost in defeat. But when you open them, you can’t believe what you see.
The flower is now a bright yellow, looking like it belongs in a vase full of fresh-cut daffodils.
It’s like the flower was resuscitated right between your fingers, finally getting the oxygen it so desperately needed.
There is no way you did this, so how is this possible?
Dinner is mostly eaten in silence. Some small talk is exchanged but you can tell Michael can barely bare it, gritting his teeth as you ask him how his day was.
Michael enjoys more intellectually stimulating conversation. It just so happens that usually means arguing with you or teasing you about something. So, you’re not very fond of it.
Once the plates are taken away, you think you can finally breathe, ready to take your leave to your room.
Just as you’re getting up, Michael stops you.
“Sit down. You haven’t had your dessert yet.”
“Dessert? We only have that on special occasions,” you retort, sitting back down.
“Well, you didn’t get to finish it the other day.”
You part your lips to question him again, but it’s answered when a maid places a plate in front of you.
A pomegranate split in half sits before you.
Michael seems to be waiting for your reaction when you lock eyes with him.
“What is with you and pomegranates?”
“They’re in season. I just want you try it.”
He leans back in his chair, giving a smile that doesn’t exactly reach his eyes. Instead, you find a glint there instead.
You nervously look down at the fruit, mulling over what he wants you to do.
You blink and you suddenly see that the red fruit has turned into a human heart, bloody and still beating.
You gasp, eyes widening as you push back your chair.
You look back to Michael, wondering if he sees it too. You’re met with a cold stare, his finger impatiently tapping on the table.
You frown, your eyes going back to the plate only to find the pomegranate.
Tears spring to your eyes as you consider the real fact that you’re losing your mind.
You don’t notice Michael getting up to stand next to you, your broken mind too caught up with all the peculiar things happening in the last couple of weeks.
He gently puts his hand on your shoulder, taking you out of the torment you’re putting yourself through.
By the time you turn to look at him, he has a few pomegranate seeds on his fingertips. You can smell the sweetness as he brings them closer to your lips.
“Don’t think about it. Just eat them,” he says as two of his fingers move past your lips and into your mouth.
You hum lowly in your throat as you taste how delicious they are, lips clasping tighter around Michael’s fingers, your tongue swirling around them.
He breaks the seal, removing his fingers before you swallow. He watches your throat move up and down, taking his offering.
You don’t miss the satisfied smirk on his plump lips.
It’s a night of tossing and turning. You’re able to sleep but it’s restless. Thoughts of Michael still lingering hours after he fed you the pomegranate.
When you’re finally able to sleep for more than an hour, you’re woken up by a scream similar to the one that woke you up weeks ago.
You know you heard it. It’s not in your imagination. No matter what Michael wants you to believe.
You don’t even think about it as you leave your bed, practically storming down the hall, deciding to leave behind a lit candle for light.
You pass Michael’s bedroom, getting closer to the faint sounds of cries and screams.
At the end of the hallway lies a singular door painted blood red.
You’ve never dared to go through it because when you arrived at the manor, you were told it is off limits.
Every time you would look at it, the hairs on your neck would stand up, giving you reason enough to never investigate it.
But now, you know you have to, tired of not knowing the truth.
When you step through the doorway, the air feels heavy, like all the light has been sucked out, only leaving a darkness that sits on your chest, making sure you cannot take a breath.
It’s pitch black, stairs going down to seemingly nowhere or possibly the pits of Hell. So, it’s either idiotic or suicidal why you decide to go down them.
Once you go down the stairs, a sweltering heat is the first thing you feel, like fire blistering your skin. It’s so bright down at the bottom of the stairs that it reflects in the irises of your eyes.
Hundreds of candles are lit with a few fires alongside them. The walls seem to be made of the earth, like a cave.
You don’t exactly understand what is going on, crouched at the bottom of the stairs spotting Michael walking toward a man sitting on the ground.
Cries and screams of “no” fall from the man as Michael brings a small knife to the man’s throat.
He slices it open, like a bleeding smile, his cries ceasing.
A sadistic smirk paints Michael’s lips, a satisfied one that is so similar to the one he had when he fed you the pomegranate seeds.
That’s when you notice everyone else. Bodies littered around the room, both alive and dead. Blood seeping from their various wounds. The ones who are alive seem to be chained to the floor or the walls, like they’re being tortured.
You can’t help the strangled cry that leaves your mouth, your stomach churning, thinking of the horror that the man you’re married to has been enacting.
You catch yourself, slapping a hand over your mouth. But it’s too late. He heard you.
Michael meets your gaze, and it only takes you a split second to get up and run back up the stairs.
You rush through the house, finding the front doors that keep you trapped inside this prison from the rest of the world.
You fling them open, running barefoot past the garden into the trees that border the manor.
Except just when you think you’re getting somewhere, you’re entering another door, one that goes right back inside the manor.
You look around with bewilderment, your mind racing to try and figure out what is going on. But you just end up hitting a brick wall, wanting to collapse into tears while nothing makes sense. You feel like the floor is moving, like your world has been tilted.
“Don’t cry, little witch.”
You turn to find Michael at the top of the main staircase, looking at you with a sort of curiosity and feigned sympathy.
“What?” you ask, voice cracking.
He continues down the stairs, stepping closer to you.
“Stay away from me,” you yell, voice still thick with tears. “I’m getting out of here.”
“You can try as long as you want to get away. But you’ll always end up back here.”
His looming figure is blurry as you blink away the tears.
You let him get closer, his thumb wiping your tear-stained cheeks.
“You poor thing.” You hear him mutter like you’re some naïve little lamb that needs to be protected.
“You’re stuck here,” he explains. “Those seeds you ate bound you here forever. With me, little witch,” he adds with a grumbling chuckle.
“Why do you keep calling me that?”
“You don’t remember,” he observes, tilting his head at you, like you’re his science experiment.
He thinks for a moment before continuing, “I suppose it would be better if you remembered. Then we really can have fun.”
Before you can protest or say anything, everything goes black.
Certain details are still fuzzy when you regain consciousness, but you remember it all.
You were a powerful witch in a coven. You remember your sisters and your Supreme, Cordelia.
You also remember him.
Cordelia made a deal. She knew who Michael really was, so she did anything she could to send him away, lock him up within the gates of Hell.
She had to make a sacrifice, and it just so happened to be you.
She came up with a loophole for you. The problem is that you couldn’t remember what it was when you arrived here.
You look around at your surroundings for the first time, finding yourself inside a circle of lit candles.
You try to move outside of the confines of the circle, but it’s like an invisible barrier is up.
You lie back down in defeat.
There is no fighting him or getting out. You ate the seeds of the pomegranate.
If enough time had passed without you eating them, you could’ve gotten away from here like Cordelia wanted.
Now you’ve sealed your fate. You’ve been promised to The Beast.
It’s not long before a door creaks open. The man you’ll be forced to spend eternity with, walks through the door.
“I imagine that was an enlightening nap,” he says, fighting off a mocking grin.
You swallow, keeping your eyes anywhere but on him.
“I was right that it would be better if you remember. I can feel the hatred coming off you. I like that more than indifference.”
He pauses, his eyes raking over your body, like he’s hungry and you’re his next meal.
“Of course, other feelings haven’t changed. You know, it was so hard not to say anything that day in the library when I could smell how wet you were.”
You finally turn to look at him, eyes widening at his casual vulgarity.
“Or any of the other times you were clenching your thighs together. And all because of me,” he adds, eyes full of mirth.
“You’re lying,” you argue, but you can’t deny how warm your cheeks are getting.
“Am I?” he challenges. “It really wouldn’t matter. You’re mine to do as I please with.”
You try to hide the waves of heat you feel, but you can’t successfully hide anything from him.
“What would your Supreme think if she knew how easily you gave into me? If she knew how much of a whore, you are?”
He walks around you in circles like you’re prey that he’s just playing with until he’s ready to feast.
It’s dizzying.
“Maybe I couldn’t stop Cordelia from trapping me here, but I knew I wasn’t going to let you go. Her silly plan with the pomegranates,” he laughs. “I was going to pull you down to the depths of Hell with me. Which is where you’ll be for the rest of eternity.”
You shake your head, wanting him to stop taunting you.
“You’re a monster, Michael,” you harshly say. “I’m sure you feel more at home here.”
He just gives you a humorless laugh, something cruel settling in his eyes.
“Cordelia doesn’t care about you. Her hatred for me outweighed whatever love she had for you. She’s probably forgotten all about you.”
You try to pretend that his words don’t claw at your chest.
“But if I’m going to have my little witch by my side,” he continues. “She can’t be an insolent one.”
You instantly regret hurling any insults at him.
“I think it’s time you learn how things are going to work around here.”
He steps inside the circle, barely giving you time to move out of his way.
“On your knees. Now,” he says, his voice sounding gravelly.
You scramble to kneel at his second command.
“Tell me, little witch. Who’s your God?”
You look up at him, confusion in your eyes.
“What?”
The palm of his hand meets your cheek, moving your head to the side. A slight sting burns your skin.
“Let’s try that again. Who is your God?”
You just shake your head, trying not to let the tears fall from your eyes.
His palm slaps your other cheek, the same biting feeling spreading through your face.
“We can keep doing this until you get it right.”
At least when Michael walked the earth, he had many people to subject his torture too. Now, he just has you. And any other sorry soul that might cross his path, you think. The image of crimson pouring from that man’s neck is still burned into your mind.
“You, Michael. You’re my God,” you defeatedly say.
“And how should you worship your God?”
You catch his gaze, unsure how to answer.
All he does is move his hand to undo his pants, unzipping them until you get what he means.
Your eyelashes flutter as you move your face closer to his cock.
He’s already hard, so you give a small lick to his tip, tasting the salty evidence of his arousal.
He watches you start to put his cock into your mouth and down your throat.
A groan falls from his lips as you begin to fuck him with your throat, spit spilling out of your mouth as you choke on his size.
He puts a hand to the back of your head, helping you to take almost all of him. You can feel your own arousal coating your inner thighs.
“I knew you were good for something,” he says as you gag a little.
He surprises you by pulling you off him, letting you fall onto your ass while your drool hits your chin.
He’s quick to grab you, pinning you to the floor as he puts his weight on top of you.
“I want you to feel me cum inside you.”
He doesn’t waste any time before he rips your white nightgown off you, seeing your naked body for the first time.
His own clothes come off and you hate that even if you know how much of a monster he is, all you can think about is him fucking you.
His hands have your wrists underneath them, pushed into the cold hard floor. You can’t move if you wanted to, but you don’t think you would anyway.
All you do is blink, and his face has changed. His skin is paler with cracks running through it, almost like cement. And his eyes have gone black, no light or emotion to be seen, just darkness, an overwhelming evil you’ve never seen or felt before.
It frightens you. His body is colder as he pushes inside you, a growl coming from deep in his throat.
He doesn’t care to wait for you to adjust, he’s rough in his thrusts, setting a pace that already leaves you gasping for air.
“Michael,” you cry out. “It hurts.”
You know you sound pathetic which is almost worse than how full you feel, your cunt stretching to accommodate the size of him.
“Good,” is all he says.
He licks and bites at your breasts, playing with your nipples between his fingers. It’s both pain and pleasure and it drives you insane. You can feel him deep inside you, the tip of his cock hitting that soft spot nestled in you.
You wrap your legs around him, your walls clenching around him.
He kisses your cheeks, wet with tears from the pain you have felt. He just licks it up, finding your pain to be delicious.
His lips drag against your throat, teeth nipping at the delicate skin.
He whispers, “I can’t wait to see you swollen with my baby. Evidence of how you belong to me.”
You can feel your pussy squeeze him at the thought, the coil in your stomach getting tighter and tighter.
He captures your lips in a sloppy kiss as he moves his hand down to rub your aching bundle of nerves.
It’s enough for the coil to snap. It’s only moments later when you feel him twitch inside you, coating your walls with his cum. He bites down on your shoulder, and you cry out in pain as he laps up the blood that seeps from the wound, soothing it with his tongue.
He’s breathless as he collapses on top of you, his skin going back to its usual color.
Your mind isn’t clouded with pleasure anymore, but you bring a hand to the curls on his head anyway.
He moves his head slightly to look at you, a smirk forming on his lips.
“If only Cordelia could see you now.”
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Hello lovely!!
I very humbly request decorating the christmas tree with peter and for some mysterious reason he keeps finding reasons to kiss you
the holidays and peter, a perfect combo
-🔮
Hi gorgeous, thanks for requesting!!
tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader ♡ 982 words
“Peter.” You’re doing your best to sound firm, but it’s an impossible task to keep the laughter from your tone. “Be careful.”
“It’s fine, it’s fine.” Peter holds up the ornament he’s just knocked off the tree, placing it back in its spot. “I’ve got it, babe, don’t worry. I won’t let anything happen to your stuff.”
“That one’s yours,” you remind him. “May got it for you last year, and she’ll totally know if you break it.”
Peter makes a sheepish face, but the facade breaks as soon as you laugh. He surges forward to kiss you, your smiles a mirror. He tastes like almonds.
“You’ve been eating my cookies,” you accuse.
“They’re really good when they’re warm.”
“Peter!” You try to push him off you, but he bands an arm around your waist, freakishly strong. You’re forced to make your complaint against his lips. “Those are for my coworkers.”
“I’ll leave enough for them.”
“What, like two each?”
“Maybe three. I might be feeling generous. Season of giving and all.”
You scoff, setting your hands on his chest to push him off. “You’re awful,” you say, no small amount of fondness seeping into your tone, “and I know exactly why.” You head for Peter’s ipod, sitting in a mug to amplify sound. “It’s this song, it makes you feral.”
Peter tracks your trajectory and chases after you, snagging you by your belt loop. “Whoa, whoa, let’s not be so hasty. This is the song of our city!”
You give him a deadpan look. The song of your city has been on repeat for nearly a half hour now. “We’re not celebrating Christmas in Harlem.”
“Queens is close enough!”
“Sorry.” You reach over, pressing skip despite Peter’s hold on you.
He groans, releasing you.
“Now can we get back on task?” You give your half-bare tree a pointed look. You’ve been trying to decorate for a couple of hours now, and your boyfriend (adhd personified, bless him) keeps getting sidetracked.
But Peter’s listening to the intro of the new song, a smile unfurling across his sweet face. He dances his way over to the tree, singing the lyrics.
Well, you think, at least he’s putting on ornaments.
You join, and for a minute, you’re wonderfully productive. You join in on the duet, picking your favorite ornaments out of the box Peter had hauled out of the back of your coat closet and placing them delicately on the tree. It hasn’t snowed yet in New York, but you’re feeling so giddy with holiday cheer you’re thinking of going to the corner store after this for hot chocolate mix.
When Peter whisks you away from the tree this time, you’re a bit more amenable to it, though you roll your eyes for show. He spins you across the living room, his hands warm around yours. He croons the lyrics to you, and you play along, batting your eyelashes up at him when he pulls you close to his chest.
“The neighbors might think,” you sing in an overly coy voice.
Peter’s overlaps with it at the end. “Baby, it’s bad out there.”
“Say, what’s in this drink?”
“No cab’s to be had out—whoa, this is kind of messed up, huh?” Your boyfriend’s eyebrows raise as he pays more attention to the lyrics. “Are they saying he roofied her?”
A laugh bubbles out of you. “You’ve never noticed?”
“Jesus.” Peter looks so shell-shocked you can’t help but run your hand along his stubble, a comforting touch for him and an indulgence for you as a bonus. He breaks from his reverie to smile down at you, kissing the tip of your nose. “Just for the record,” he says, dipping lower to capture your mouth, “that cider I made earlier was one hundred percent fruit, sweetheart. No alcohol here.”
“Mmm, guess you won’t be getting any then.”
“I don’t like what you’re implying.” You smile, and Peter kisses the corner of your mouth quickly. “I seem to do just fine without shady tactics.”
“I don’t know—” you start to tease him further, but then he nips at your bottom lip and it’s pretty difficult to carry on speaking from there.
Your hands have minds of their own, one gripping his shoulder while the other tunnels its fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck. Peter all but sucks you in, devoting his attentions to your bottom lip while he pulls you closer by the waist. He gives the soft inside of your lip another gentle nibble, and the sound that escapes you is so humiliatingly needy that you force yourself to pull away.
“No,” you say, trying to catch your breath. Then, more firmly, “No. We’re never gonna finish decorating tonight if we keep…doing this.”
“We can finish tomorrow,” Peter suggests helpfully, one hand coasting up your back while he noses at your cheek.
“Peter,” you chide, laughing. “We’ve already put it off for too long. At this rate, the tree’s going to die before we get ornaments on it.”
Your boyfriend heaves a great sigh, pressing a final, consoling kiss to the skin beneath your eye before stepping away from you. “Alright, alright. We’ll get it done.”
“Thank you,” you say weakly, tucking some string lights more securely into the tree’s branches while Peter stoops over the box. You do your best to calm your heart rate and try to get back into the flow of decorating.
A second later, there’s a thwick, and you look up to see a green and red sprig webbed to the ceiling above your head.
You look over at Peter, who is also staring up at the mistletoe.
“What?” His brow wrinkles, and he looks between you and the ceiling with his palms tipped guilelessly upward. “How’d that get there? Damn, sweetheart, I really wanted to stay on task, but you know, rules are rules, so…”
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Virgo Season: Shane
Today, Virgo is associated most with the astrological sign. Virgos are rigid, conscientious, prudish, stubborn. It is often forgotten that Virgo is the sign of the harvest, when inedible grass turns to edible wheat in a yearly miracle. This plenty inspired the ancients to name innumerable mother goddesses for the harvest, to remind all people that, with patience and care, even the most stubborn ground can be tilled to bear fruit.
When Virgo rules the heavens, it is a time for things that have been growing to ripen and let loose. This is especially true at the Astra, a hotel and conference centre somewhere in central Florida. The cornerstone houses an ancient, mysterious artifact that resonates with the desires of the hotel’s guests, bringing out the things they have been hiding deep within. It is especially powerful in Virgo season.
At 3:32 AM on August 23, 1 hour and 30 minutes before the Sun entered Virgo, Shane Blanco walked out of the elevator and across the lobby, nodding to the dozing receptionist. He tried to act normal, but every few seconds he smoothed back his short blond hair or dried his hands on his conservative black slacks as he stood waiting by the automatic door, belying his nervousness.
Shane and his father, the famous evangelical pastor Adam Blanco, had arrived at the hotel yesterday afternoon. Pastor Blanco was the guest of honour at a month-long conference for his reactionary evangelical organisation, which was to host a parade of noteworthy men from the far right over the next month, including media personalities, politicians, and other evangelical speakers like Pastor Blanco.
His throat dry, Shane checked his Tinder messages again. Nothing yet. Shane was here… well, Shane was here because all of his brothers and sisters had said “not it” faster. He was meant to be the perfect young Republican, his father’s “success story.” It showed in his fresh blond Ivy League cut, his well-tailored suits, his handsome face, and his white, perfect smile. Shane was going to have an aneurysm.
Even entering his twenties, Shane was still terribly repressed. He’d kissed a boy once, under the bleachers during a school football game, and immediately had a panic attack. This trip was the farthest that he had travelled from his little midwestern hometown, and it wasn’t like Pastor Blanco was keeping close track of what he did. If Shane wanted to get the taste of gay life he was desperately craving, now was the time.
He had matched with Rodrigo while sitting in the back seat of the rented SUV Shane and his father had ridden in to the Astra. He was a Latino hunk, his Tinder pictures showing a tantalising carpet of chest hair on his thick chest. There were pictures of him bearing rainbow flags at pride parades, hanging out with other equally undressed guys of all shapes, sizes, and colours, and one where, just at the bottom of the frame, Shane had seen the top few inches of a pair of leather pants. They had been messaging all night.
Rodrigo was at some other nighttime event in town, but he had begged off early and had texted that he was on his way to the Astra. Shane shifted from foot to loafered foot, trying to pretend he didn’t have cold sweat dripping down his back. What if he got stood up? What if Rodrigo was actually working for his father, waiting to catch Shane in an act of temptation? What if Rodrigo had decided that he actually didn’t want to have a hookup with an inexperienced, repressed white prep?
Just as Shane was about to scurry back upstairs, the front door opened and a man in a long leather jacket stepped inside. Rodrigo looked even bigger in person, and even more out of place, a burly, bearded, tan hunk in big combat boots standing in the opulent foyer of the Astra. Shane hurried to his side, trying to look like something other than a gangling prep.
“Hey man.” Rodrigo took Shane firmly by the wrist and walked deeper into the hotel. “Good to see you again. It was a total bitch to find parking around here.” He sounded so natural, like it was perfectly normal for two people as different as them to meet in a hotel lobby at 4 in the morning. He held Shane tight, forcing him to walk briskly, but not urgently. Shane felt leather at his back, and the smell of cigarettes tickled his nose, emanating from the jacket. Rodrigo took a turn into the richly carpeted hallway leading past the conference hall. “You know where we’re going?” he murmured in Shane’s ear. He had to lean down to get close enough, a sensation which made Shane shudder with lust.
“Y-yes,” Shane breathed. While Pastor Blanco had organised the conference hall to his exacting needs, Shane had scouted the whole first floor, and he’d found a mysterious, unlocked door that opened to a set of stairs. He directed Rodrigo there, and the two men stumbled down the dark steps into the sub-basement of the Astra.
Using his phone flashlight, Rodrigo found a light switch. They were in a disused storage room with unfinished cinderblock walls, some of which had some kind of strange carving on them. Shane assumed that they must have been leftovers from the ornate facade on the Astra’s front. There were sinuous patterns, some twisted together to form some kind of indiscernible script.
Grabbing Shane by the shoulders, Rodrigo spun him around, and Shane found himself pressed against the concrete, surrounded by leather and man. “Can I kiss you, cutie?” Rodrigo asked.
Shane nodded desperately, and Rodrigo surged forward, catching Shane’s mouth.
Shane could barely think about anything but the feeling of Rodrigo’s moustache and beard against his face, and the electric sensation of firm, confident lips on his. Then Rodrigo’s tongue was in his mouth, and Shane could taste his saliva, made a little smokey by the cigarette he must have smoked in the car. Shane could feel his cock straining against his briefs as Rodrigo flattened his body against the wall.
“Hold on.” Suddenly, Rodrigo was gone. Shane opened his eyes to see him efficiently stripping off his leather jacket. Underneath, shockingly, was not a shirt, but a leather harness.
Rodrigo caught Shane’s shocked stare. “Sorry,” he said, looking less than confident for the first time. “The other event I was at was a, uh, kink night at a local club. Didn’t have time to change. I know it’s not a lot of people’s, you know, thing…”
Shane swallowed. Marshalled his thoughts with an effort. “I’m just surprised,” he said. “I think I, uh, like it.”
Rodrigo’s gaze followed Shane’s down to the visible bulge in Shane’s slacks. Rodrigo suddenly grinned. “Wow, you are repressed.”
Shane nodded. “Can I touch it?”
Still grinning, Rodrigo stepped forward, back in range of Shane’s hand.
With shaking fingers, Shane reached out and stroked the supple leather. “God,” he said, “I wish—”
What he was about to say was lost as Rodrigo crowded back against him and kissed him, but he had already said more than enough. A spark arced from the heel of his spare hand, pressed against the wall, into the magical channels carved into the cinderblocks. Shane’s mind suddenly let loose the desires he had repressed for all twenty-two years of his life, half-formed thoughts of leather, rubber, and lycra gear filling his mind as he tugged on the harness’s handle. Newer ideas of hair, dark skin, and the masculine scents of sweat and smoke flowed in too as Rodrigo gently slid Shane’s feet out of his loafers.
The magical artifact responded, and a soft orange glow filled the room, unnoticed by Shane or Rodrigo as Rodrigo’s slick fingers entered Shane’s virgin hole. Shane’s offering, of a mind grown and strengthened by repression suddenly ripened, harvested by sexual experience, unleashed an unexpected magical effect.
Shane lay on his back on Rodrigo’s leather jacket, his polo shirt rucked up under his shoulders as he continued to maintain his grip on Rodrigo’s harness. He moaned as Rodrigo’s fat Latino cock entered him, his own cock rock hard against his belly.
Along with Rodrigo’s dripping cock came some of the power building in the air. Rather than pain or pressure, Shane experienced only blinding pleasure as his hole relaxed, and Rodrigo easily bottomed out. With each thrust, Shane’s skin started to smooth out and darken, first around his hole and across his ass, and then up his belly and down his legs.
When Rodrigo grabbed Shane’s cock, a foreskin suddenly grew from the shaft, and Shane’s eyes rolled back in his head at the sensation of Rodrigo’s firm hand on his newly sensitive cockhead. Shane’s darkening balls tensed, then relaxed lower, growing slightly to match a slightly larger, darker cock. The thatch of sparse blond hair around his cock and balls shrank away, as if shaved with an experienced hand.
Shane’s slight belly dissolved, revealing a toned, but not huge, set of abs, and his pecs became flat and firm, wrapped tight on his toned chest. The blond hair in his armpits vanished like the rest of Shane’s body hair, leaving sparse black stubble. The polo shirt shrank and hardened into a black leather harness.
At the same time, the transformation reached both Shane’s darkening feet and his long, lithe fingers. Only partly aware, Shane watched as his fingers darkened and his feet, up on Rodrigo’s shoulders, flexed just a little larger, with mobile, sensual toes. The nails of both darkened with black nail polish. That was bad, Shane thought, trying to organise his mind through the blinding pleasure of Rodrigo's fucking combined with the magic coursing through his changing body. His… His someone would be upset.
With a thrust that brought Rodrigo’s cock straight home on Shane’s now extra-sensitive prostate, Shane threw back his head and the magic followed. All his thoughts dissolved. His jaw sharpened and his lips filled out as they darkened, matching both the nipples he was using one hand to twist and the cockhead peeking out of Rodrigo’s big, callused hand. His eyes darkened, his brow lowering to give him a hooded, seductive gaze.
Finally, the magic entered Shane’s hair follicles. Beginning from the roots, blond became black, and the strands tore free of the gel Shane had carefully combed in yesterday morning. Tousled curls fell across Shane’s forehead.
Like a flick switched in his mind, Shane suddenly looked up at Rodrigo with a cocky, lustful gaze. “That’s it, you big bear,” he said in a deeper, slightly smokey voice, pulling harder on Rodrigo’s harness to make him gasp. “Fill my slutty boyhole. Take this virgin hole.”
Rodrigo gasped as he was pulled closer to Shane’s torso, the fucking becoming somehow more intense. He suddenly felt close to the edge. “Gonna… cum,” he gasped, trying to pull out. No way this virgin bottom was gonna outlast an experienced guy like him.
Shane pulled harder. “Cum in me,” he growled, dragging a ragged sob from Rodrigo’s throat. “C’mon, I need your load in me.”
At Shane’s command, Rodrigo let go, filling Shane up with his load. He knew he’d put on a condom, but somehow he found himself bare, painting Shane’s insides with cum. At precisely 5:02 AM, as the Sun entered Virgo behind the bulk of the earth, Shane let loose too, painting his lean new torso with a huge, runny load of cum.
Both men made the most powerful offering a living being can make at the exact moment that Virgo entered its greatest power. The power slammed into the magic filling the air, and the unformed wish Shane had inadvertently made was recast into a powerful spell.
I wish… a rush of images and words… cock, leather, sweat, gay, mask, Slut, Rubber, Daddy Latin Fag Stink Gear African Ass Cum MuskSexArabFagJockSlutLeatherAsianCockCockCockCockCOCK.
Shane had ripened, what had been repressed now ready for harvest as he worked his ass to milk Rodrigo’s cock. In a burst of warmth and unseen light, the magic of the Virgo artifact, confined for decades to the small sub-basement room, surged to encompass the Astra hotel.
As Rodrigo pulled out, still gasping, Shane dragged his fingers through the rivulets of cum coating his torso and started to lick it up. He remembered who he had been an hour ago, but that Shane felt like a distant dream. Why bother being so stressed, bound up in what other people thought he should be? The new Shane was a creature of sensuality, totally free to do whatever he desired.
“That was… Were you always…” Rodrigo struggled to articulate himself as he tugged his jeans back on.
“May as well have been.” Shane rolled off Rodrigo’s jacket and grabbed his slacks. The instant he touched them, the cotton flexed and morphed, becoming supple black leather. Shane loved the feeling as his new pants slipped up his hairless legs. “Want to go get breakfast?”
“But your… dad, right?”
Shane didn’t fully understand what had just happened, but the magic was in him, filling him up and reassuring him that his will would be done. “My father’s not a problem,” he said. “I’ll come back to pick him up on September 22. He’ll be fine here.” Shane's fingers were itching. "Lend me a cig. I'll pay you back."
Pastor Blanco and all his far right guests would be more than fine. Shane only had twenty years of repression to fuel his transformation, the youngest of the attendees. Some of the men coming to the hotel, like Pastor Blanco himself, had spent at least fifty years in denial of their basest urges. With the help of the magic permeating the Astra, they would soon be letting it all loose.
This concept was inspired by @octuscle.
Welcome to Virgo Season! Every three days until September 22, 2023, I will tell the story of another of Pastor Blanco's guests at the Astra Hotel being transformed into a slutty gay kinkster.
This series is my way of celebrating my birthday. If you feel inspired, feel free to write a story set in the Astra Hotel this Virgo Season. Post it @ me and I’ll reblog it.
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One Piece Academy chapter 40: Cora san (Quick translation)
[source] [translation index]
Lucci: Donquixote Doflamingo's younger brother, Donquixote Rosinante. Codename: Corazon.
He used to be an executive staff of the Donquixote Family. However, for the last two years, he's 'missing.'
[New world Middle school, Student council]
Lucci: Tell me what you know about this man,
...Trafalgar Law.
Law: I hear you, but what's with the stupid costumes?
Luffy: Y'all sure got style!
Kalifa: To dispel the "scary, unapproachable, unfriendly" allegations against the school council, this.. is the "student council image improvement campaign" proposed by our advisor.
Law: .......... Oh.
Sanji: So, Doflamingo has a brother?
Kaku: Yeah. While investigating him, we came to learn the existence of Corazon, and,
The fact that a former member of the Donquixote Family was you, Trafalgar Law.
Usopp/Chopper: EEEEH????!
Luffy: So you're friends with Mingo?
Law: I get the full picture. I was indeed a part of this Family in the past, and Corazon, no...
...Cora-san is my benefactor, and I got my Life and my Heart from him.
Bepo: Captain, you're okay with speaking about that?
Law: Baseless suspicions are bothersome, that's all.
Kaku: Mind sharing the rest of the story?
Law: Yeah. When I was seven..
I developed an incurable disease that stumped even the doctors.
Without warning, my body caught a sickness that was supposedly eradicated long time ago.
My father, even though he was a famous doctor in the city - couldn't determine its cause.
Vivi: And then, the three remaining years you had according to your father...
Chopper:...was spent on moving to large hospitals that refused to treat you? Was there so little literary background of the disease?
Robin: Prejudices from lack of knowledge in unknown cities, the government's isolationist, unjust instructions.. it must've been terrible.
Law: I cursed the world for it. I didn't want to bother my parents anymore and fled from home, wandered by myself,
then I arrived in front of him. The man who wants to destroy everything, the man I wanted to be like..
I ran into Doflamingo.
Zoro: Just like that, you could've become one of the bad guys like him, but that didn't happen...
Nami:.. because you met a certain other person?
{Flashback: Law, look! It's the op-op fruit!
It's a fruit that can save your life! So, eat it! Hurry up, swallow down!}
Brook: So, with the medical knowledge from your parents and the fruit's ability, you treated yourself...
Franky: From Doflamingo's point of view, it happened to be a fruit he wanted for some reason.
Sanji: and he felt out witted by his younger brother...
Usopp: So, a raging Doflamingo appeared before Corazon -
Nami: And at the end, you saw a mysterious light from behind the lockers. What was that?
Blueno: An explosion?
Lucci: That sounds reasonable...
Jabra: A last resort move from Corazon, huh? Well, Doflamingo couldn't just give up.
Coby: After regaining consciousness, Law-san, you held the words of Corazon in your heart, to "meet him at the next town" and kept walking...but the man never appeared....
Law: A person that's gone, is gone. Any other question?
Lucci: None.
Usopp: Who knew Traffy had a past like that...
Luffy: AAAAAH!
Usopp: MAN, THAT SPOOKED ME!
Coby: Luffy san! What happened.. OH RIGHT!
Luffy: I FORGOT TO TOLD TRAFFY THE THING!
Nami: Ah, you're right! We got side tracked by the student council...
Luffy: Where's he?
Zoro: He left.
Lufffy: Then let's go to Traffy's place.
Usopp: Do you even know where he lives?
This nerd
Corazon: WELCOME BACK, LAAW!!!
Law: I'm back... Cora san, take off your coat while cleaning -
Luffy: THERE HE IS!!
TAFFY!! WE'RE THROWING A RICEBALL PARTY!
Nami: Luffy! You should ring the doorbell first!!
Luffy: n?
< end, part 2 comes out on December 15th!>
Update: Part 2 translation
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Fair Trade
Akari shares with Ingo a bag of candy she found while distortion diving, though Ingo more appreciates the familiar feelings that sharing candy brings back than anything.
Happy Halloween!! I wrote this off a request an anon gave me about Akari sharing Halloween candy with Ingo. Hope you enjoy!! This is my first bit of writing that I’ve actually published in a while, and it feel like this writing in particular is a lot of nothing, but it was fun just to get something out again!!
OR read here on AO3!
Enjoy!
————
“I am finding it very hard to believe that you dislike chocolate this much.”
“Come on,” From where she sat on the dojo bench, Akari held her hand out to Ingo, the shiny, brightly-colored wrapper in her palm already unfoiled to reveal the candy inside. “It’s not that I don’t like them, I just like other candy more. And I can’t eat all of these myself, so I gotta pick and choose. Also, you have to take it, I already opened it.”
Looking back at her from his position by the dojo, Ingo’s expression was one of discernment — she could certainly just wrap it back up and save it for later. She also could have done that with the last six candies she had handed to him. But eventually, he relented and took it. Popping it into his mouth with an obligatory “Thank you”, Ingo returned to casting his glance at the training grounds’ gate.
Unlike Akari, he had not realized how sorely he had specifically missed sweet, modernized chocolate until she had first given him a piece several minutes earlier, when she had come by the training grounds to see him with a big mystery bag in her hands.
“Look at this, Ingo!” She had called out to him, holding the packaging up against the sunset sky for him to see — orange and purple, it was full of colorful wrappers, and seemed to be decorated with ghost pokemon (some silhouettes he recognized much more clearly than others). “I found this in one of the distortions! Help me eat it!”
A moderately-sized, unopened bag of cheap assorted candies, wrapped in shiny foils that obscured the flavor and kept its brand a surprise until it was opened. No doubt it had been pulled from some store shelf, if not an unfortunate person’s cabinet. Akari had been unwrapping the candies one by one; if it was revealed to be a fruit chew or something of the sort, she ate it herself, but the chocolates were handed off to Ingo.
Reaching her hand back onto the bag, Akari fished out another wrapper and twisted it open, revealing a green gummy inside that vaguely resembled a cherubi’s shape.
“Gummy.” She announced to no one in particular, chewing on it and stuffing the wrapper into her satchel. Picking out and unwrapping another before she had even finished her candy, she held it out to Ingo. “Chocolate. Here.”
“Ah, thank you,” Ingo received it with waning enthusiasm, but dropped it into his mouth regardless. “Have you perhaps considered sharing with your friend Rei as well?”
“Yeah, but last time I did, he got sick the next day. He said he doesn’t want them anymore.”
“How many have you had?” Watching Akari pull out yet another candy from the bag, Ingo was beginning to wonder if she was planning to stop at some point, or keep pushing through until the bag was empty. Knowing her, he believed it would be the latter.
“I don’t know, maybe… Nine? Ten?” The teen did not look up from the candy she was currently unwrapping. “I haven’t been counting.”
Ingo looked away, back towards the dojo’s gates as Akari peeked through the small opening she had made in her wrapper. He was acutely aware of how anything as processed and sugary as candy would not mix well with a digestive system that had become accustomed to a Hisuian diet — concerning both Akari, and himself.
“I advise taking these tracks a little slower; there is no need to rush towards the end of the line in just one night, lest you end up like Rei.”
“Oh man, if you think I’ll get sick off of this, you should really see all the junk I eat that I don’t bring back to share with you,” Akari brushed it off with a laugh as if his recommendation was a joke, before holding another unwrapped candy out to him again. “Chocolate. Here you go.”
“...Thank you.” Ingo echoed once again, tentatively receiving the bite-size candy bar. He chewed it with a look on his face – hard to discern, but appearing to be guilty for appreciating it. He waved Akari off preemptively with a hand before she could even unwrap another candy. “But please, no more; Miss Zisu is supposed to return back from the hall at any moment to accompany me to The Wallflower. I don’t want to spoil my appetite.”
“Well all you have to do is stop taking them, then!” Akari’s voice was tickled with amusement. Plastic crinkled as another wrapper was opened; thankfully for Ingo’s sake, bright, soft pink was revealed under the shiny covering. “Ugh, Taffy.”
Ingo cleared his throat as Akari bit into it anyways, having nothing to say at being called out – he certainly could refuse, but a part of him didn’t want to. And it went beyond the plain craving for the processed sweetness after such a long period of going without it.
Something about the flavor was obviously familiar to him, but that wasn’t exactly what kept nagging him to repeatedly want just one more. In fact, there really was much to be desired from cheap, waxy chocolate.
It was more so the simple act of Akari specifically handing a candy to him that she didn’t want, but knew he liked. It felt like it was tugging on a dormant cord still connected between his heart and his memories.
There wasn’t a lot there, but it was attached to something, deep down.
( )( )( )( )( )( )
It was just like when he and (Emmet went trick-or-treating together as children. The two of them) would always return home with enough candy that (could have lasted them several months, but) would probably only survive a week or two (between themselves and their Pokémon). They would always take turns trading (their candy between each other at the end of the night. Emmet) enjoyed the sour variety of treats and gummies (that would oftentimes end up leaving him with a sore mouth,) while he preferred the sweeter chocolates and (candy bars).
And (when Elesa had come into their lives during their teenage years,) the group would continue the tradition (of trick-or-treating together, and then) swapping at the end of the night. (Chocolates were not willingly traded to him nearly as easily anymore, and) he often ended up being traded the things neither (Emmet or Elesa) wanted. But he didn’t mind (because he liked them well enough, more so than the other two).
And even (into adulthood, when going trick-or-treating from door to door) was swapped out for (late-night scary movie marathons with friends, He found a habit had formed where) he was often handed (the candy bowl near the end of the night, in order to finish off the bit of) untouched candy no one else wanted. (Emmet and Skyla) would lightheartedly jab at him (for functionally being their candy disposal bin, but Elesa would defend him while he himself just laughed,) taking it all in jest.
( )( )( )( )( )( )
…It was just like when he and someone else would always return home with enough candy that would last probably only a week or two. They’d take turns trading, the other enjoying sour candies while he preferred the sweet ones. And when their group continued swapping candy, he was often traded what no one else wanted. But he didn’t mind. And even when things… changed, he still was given the candy that no one else wanted. They would make jokes about him for it, but it was all in jest.
There was so much missing, Ingo knew there was, and it made things confusing as to what actually happened. But he certainly didn’t feel bad about any part of it, when he lingered on the feelings that were left behind.
The fragments were horrifically shattered and spread apart over many, many memories, he could tell. But something about it was comforting. Perhaps it was the fact that so many memories seemed linked together; it implied that this was something that had never changed even while time went on, something that had been continued over a large span of his prior life. He had done something with friends very frequently. And it was something he enjoyed very much.
They were happy memories of people he couldn’t quite remember, and while that was not a novel experience for him at this point, it still dimmed the warmth around the edges. But he could not ignore that it was also cathartic, in an aching, lonely way, to feel that they were so worn and repetitive.
The phantom memories gradually retreated back out of reach, keeping their distance as the sweet aftertaste of the cheap chocolate faded. Something about the fact that an action as seemingly insignificant as being handed unwanted candy, and how it was able to dredge up only emotional remnants of so many hazy recollections… it was a little frustrating for Ingo, if he was being honest.
The complete picture was always just out of reach, it felt like.
But he had lost his entire previous life to the foggy nowhere that used to be his mind. There were a lot of pieces to pick up, and he supposed a substantial amount of them would be small and insignificant — when something shattered like this, there were usually many more small pieces than big ones.
“Another chocolate.”
Ingo blinked, his thoughts giving way to the view of the training ground’s dirt beneath his shoes, then to Akari as he turned to her — she had leaned forward to nudge his wrist with her own hand. Of course, a chocolate nestled within an opened wrapper was held between her fingers.
“Ah-” Ingo hesitated for perhaps a moment too long with a look that may have been a bit too piercing, as Akari’s hand began to retract.
“Right, sorry,” Akari sat back, leaning against the dojo wall behind her as she situated the bag back on her lap. “I know, I shouldn’t keep handing you these when you’re about to go have dinner.”
“No no, it’s alright,” Ingo hastily attempted to correct the misunderstanding. “I apologize, I was not rejecting it; my mind simply drifted elsewhere for a moment.”
“So…” With the usual spirited look returning to her features, Akari held the candy back up. “You do want another piece?”
One last glance over at the gate, but of course Zisu was still nowhere in sight. Only the autumn sunset past the village buildings, and a distant collection of drifblim mingling with the clouds over the fieldlands.
Ingo huffed through his nose and turned to join Akari on the bench, taking the empty spot next to her as the wood creaked beneath him. “…Perhaps just one more; Miss Zisu has not arrived yet, after all. She did say it would be a quick stop by the Commander’s office, but I’ll be honest; knowing her appreciation for conversation, I could be waiting here for her for another half hour.”
Akari held the candy back out to him, and this time, Ingo accepted it. “Thank you.”
Placing the chocolate in his mouth, Ingo sat back as he chewed on it. Mulling over the warm feelings of familiarity that briefly returned once again with the flavor, Ingo wondered if the memories themselves would return at some point as well.
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Come Home
Summary: Bucky interrupts your date on Valentine’s Day, asking you to take him back.
Pairing: Bucky x Female!reader, slight Oliver Queen (Green Arrow - hello DC!) x Female!reader
Genre: Slight angst, slight fluff
Warnings: None
Word count: 1.8k
A/N: Thought I’d write a little Valentine’s Day one shot in the spirit of 💕 feat. Oliver Queen (I had a slight obsession with him and the actor who played him in Smallville, Justin Hartley back in the day - enjoy this little gif below)
You raised the cocktail glass in your hand, the smile on your face not quite reaching your eyes as you knocked your glass against Oliver’s with a clink. You had no idea what you had ordered, but it was a mysterious shade of pink and gave you the buzz you needed to convince yourself this was a good idea.
This was only your fifth date with the man, but you had agreed to spend the universal day of love with him when he had asked. Just a dinner and drinks - nothing could go wrong, and maybe you’d finally start to replace the bitter taste in your mouth left by your previous relationship.
“Cheers,” he hummed, his eyes surveying you. Oliver Queen was handsome, intelligent, insanely rich, and you’d been set up by Tony a few months ago. However, you were starting to suspect that he wasn’t just a billionaire playboy as he portrayed himself, much like Tony, which was both a good thing and a bad thing. You’d had enough of dating superheroes for the time being.
Your reply was stopped in its tracks when a waiter settled another drink down next to you, your eyebrows quirking in confusion.
“Oh, sorry - I didn’t order this,” you said quickly.
“This is from the gentleman at the bar,” the waiter replied, gesturing over to the other side of the restaurant.
Your eyes wandered in the direction he was pointing. The first thing you noticed were the leather-gloved fingers waving at you, then his cocky smirk.
“Shit.”
“That’s a bold move,” Oliver commented, amusement lacing through his voice. “Wait a minute - is that Bucky Barnes?”
Bucky raised his glass of whisky to his lips, downing the amber liquid all at once. You faintly registered how good he looked, his dark hair slightly tousled and his sharp jawline covered in a light stubble.
“Yes,” you said through gritted teeth, turning back to Oliver and trying to keep your scowl at bay.
“You know him?”
“Yeah, I know him.” That asshole.
“Maybe you can introduce us. He’s coming over,” Oliver said coolly, leaning back in his seat, unfazed as he watched the approaching super soldier.
You could see him in your peripheral. His swagger, his leather jacket and dark jeans, totally out of place in this hotel restaurant with its crystal chandeliers and piano music.
You panicked internally, wondering what the hell you were going to say and, more importantly, what the hell he was doing here.
“Hey.” Bucky’s voice rumbled over your head. You pasted on your phoniest smile and looked at him, head tilting back. “Fancy seeing you here.”
“Yes. What a coincidence,” you said dryly.
Oliver stood up, extending a hand which Bucky grabbed. Hard. The wince in Oliver’s face was well disguised as they shook hands.
“Oliver Queen.”
“Bucky Barnes.”
Bucky plucked the stick of cherries out from your drink as you gaped at him in shock. He slid it between his teeth, rolling the fruit around on his tongue before chewing obnoxiously. You took a deep breath, watching Oliver’s completely neutral expression.
“Just thought I’d come over and say hi.” Bucky rested a hand on your bare shoulder, his touch ever gentle, squeezing softly. His thumb stroked your skin, making you shiver. Every movement was purposeful, deliberate.
“Well, hi,” you said pointedly, your lips pressing together firmly. “We’re kind of on a date here, so…”
“Right, right,” Bucky said, though he made no motion to leave. “So, Oliver.” The way he spoke his name was almost mocking, the syllables rolling slowly off his tongue. “What are you doing with my girl?”
At that, you pushed your chair back with a screech, ignoring the looks that came your way as you gave Oliver an apologetic smile.
“I’m so sorry. Give me five minutes.” You clasped Bucky’s wrist and marched away - he could have easily resisted, but he followed anyway like a scolded puppy, letting you lead the way outside of the restaurant.
Once you’d entered the hotel lobby and away from the hubbub and diners, you whirled to face him, your eyes wide in disbelief.
“What the hell are you playing at?”
Bucky’s cocky smile had disappeared, a look of disapproval combined with longing on his face.
“You can’t be serious, going on a date with him?”
“Quite frankly, whoever I date is none of your business.” You tried to keep your voice down to avoid attracting more attention, though it was hard when Bucky was testing the boundaries of your patience.
“It is my business.”
“I’m not your girl,” you said, his words echoing in your ear. Once upon a time, you would have melted at hearing Bucky make a proclamation like that, but things had changed.
Bucky shook his head, swallowing hard. “Please don’t do this.”
“Do what, Bucky?” The exasperation was clear in your voice. “We’ve been broken up for six months.”
“I miss you,” he whispered, the vulnerability suddenly clear on his face. It stopped you in your tirade. He'd always had the ability to make your anger dissipate with just a single look.
You faltered, his blue eyes gazing at you pleadingly.
“Bucky. You know why we broke up. It’s unfair of you to just turn up whilst I’m on a date and expect me to - what? Get back together with you?”
The way he looked at you now told you that was exactly what he wanted.
To some extent, that was what you wanted, too. God, you missed him. You loved him, even if you weren’t together - that would never change. But you had to be mature and remember the real issues that caused you to break up in the first place.
“This won’t work, Bucky,” you said softly. “The reason we separated is because the things we want in life just aren’t compatible. I got tired of always waiting for you to come back from missions, of you going away for months at a time, of seeing you get hurt and in danger.”
Bucky looked at you with guilt in his eyes. He could remember clearly all the arguments you’d had about how you felt he was always putting his work first. He had never wanted you to feel like a second priority, but that’s how he made you feel.
“I felt like we weren’t going anywhere. We’d been together for three years, but I couldn’t see any growth,” you said somberly. “I want marriage and a family. If that’s not what you want, then fair enough, but you can’t stop me from trying to find someone who does.”
Bucky's eyes narrowed, taking a step towards you. “You’ve got it all wrong,” he insisted, his voice rough. “I’ve told you. I want that, too.”
“Do you?” you challenged. “I don’t see that you do. You always put the team first.”
The vulnerability was clear on Bucky’s face as he exhaled shakily, his eyes darting in uncertainty now. You recognized another emotion: fear.
“I miss you,” he said finally, looking like he wanted to cry. “After you left, I thought that it was just one of those things, and we would be able to fix things. But then more and more time passed, and now it’s been half a year. I'm scared."
Your breath hitched as you saw actual tears start to well in Bucky’s eyes. You rarely saw him cry.
“I just want you to come home,” he said hoarsely. “Please?”
You felt yourself waver. You had always considered Bucky to be the love of your life - when you had broken up, you’d told yourself that he would simply just have to be the one that got away. You told yourself that sometimes, love didn’t trump all. You wanted different things in life.
Even if it felt like cutting out a piece of your heart, you had told yourself that breaking up was for the best.
“Don’t ask me that,” you whimpered, feeling your heart clench with guilt.
“I want you back. Please give me another chance,” he said earnestly.
“Our problems haven’t gone away,” you reminded him. Bucky took a step closer, his hand raising to cup the back of your head softly. You didn’t pull back, giving him a bout of hope.
“I will do anything for you. If I have to leave the team, I’ll do it. I’ll give you the life you want.”
You felt selfish, greedy after hearing his words.
“No,” you said, even as his head tilted closer so that his nose brushed against yours. “I don’t want you to give up something that means a lot to you just for me. You shouldn’t have to do that.”
“I thought it meant a lot to me,” Bucky clarified. “I thought it gave me purpose. But when you left, I realized that my purpose was you. To make you happy.”
“Bucky…”
“I don’t care if I have to give up doing all that super soldier shit,” he said. “I don’t care. I want you. Nothing else matters if you’re not with me.”
Your eyes traced his face, every fine line, every crease in his forehead, inhaled his scent. You felt the tether between you tighten, and you let it pull you in.
You placed both palms against his chest, leaning in to kiss him. He gasped into your mouth like a drowning man looking for air, his tongue rolling between your lips as his fingers tightened in your hair.
It had been so long, yet neither of you had forgotten the sensation. It was as natural as breathing.
“I’ve missed you too,” you confessed as Bucky held you, both of you slightly breathless when you pulled away.
“Does this mean -”
“We can try,” you interrupted. “But we have a lot to talk about.”
Bucky nodded, his hand sliding down to intertwine with yours.
“Fuck,” you cursed, remembering the man waiting for you inside the restaurant. “Oliver.”
“He’ll get over it,” Bucky said, a scowl settling on his lips. “You’re not going back in there.”
“Don’t be rude, Buck.”
“Stay here,” he ordered, placing both hands on your shoulders for emphasis before he swiveled round and walked back into the restaurant.
He approached Oliver where he was still sitting with an expectant look on his face.
“Your date’s coming home with me. Sorry.”
Oliver raised an eyebrow, heaving a defeated sigh and reaching over for your unfinished drinks.
“Fine. Tell her I had a good time.”
Bucky grunted, making a beeline for the cloakroom where you were already collecting your jacket and purse. He wrapped the jacket around you, finally appraising the slinky red dress you had on, swinging your purse onto his shoulder.
"C'mon, darling," he said, his fingers threading through yours, where they'd always belonged, "let's go home."
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Hi! I love ur workk!! :) Could i request percy x child of apollo where hyacinth flowers bloom where they walk and they can summon them? (Yknow, bcz of apollo)
🐝: TYSM! i really liked this concept but i feel like this may be too short...lmk if you want a part 2!
camp half blood was no stranger to miscellaneous flora. after all, it was a camp in a forest, so there was bound to be a lot of plant life. however, recently, percy noticed a drastic increase of a new kind of flower, especially around the apollo cabin.
normally, he would ignore these things since flowers weren't his forté (he left gardening to the demeter kids) but the way the flowers were popping up seemed...too intentional. they formed intricate pathways from cabin 7 to the dining pavilion, or to the shooting range. hades, they were even popping up during capture the flag games!
damn his curiosity, but when percy noticed a new path, how could he not follow it. it's like someone was leaving a trail of bread crumbs for him to follow. the flora went from cabin 7, to the big house, to the dining pavilion. sometimes he would get mixed up with the different paths, but keen ocean eyes noticed that the colours differed from day to day, and today they just so happened to be blue
of course they had to be blue.
it was like the gods were poking fun at him. now everyone was wondering why percy jackson was walking around camp with his eyes glued to the ground. as far as he knew, he was going to get duped. this seemed like the perfect set up for a youtube prank video. fortunately for him, that wasnt the case
the trail of blue flowers led up to the edge of the strawberry fields, and right at the fringes sat someone overlooking the fruit as they baked in the summer heat. percy didn't know whether to be relieved or concerned, because yay! he wasn't getting pelted by eggs or falling into a pit of snakes, but at the same time, he wasn't sure what exactly this meant.
before he could ask the mystery kid about it, they turned around and immediately started blushing and rambling about cleaning and distractions. the ocean eyed boy only caught something about a "stupid sun god" followed by a significant amount incoherent mumbling. when they finished, percy just looked at them with a confused expression and they sighed
"my bad, i thought you were coming to complain about the flowers" they said sheepishly.
percy could only smile, "no, I'm not here to complain I just- decided to follow the weird trail of blue flowers".
this caused them to laugh, a sound that clearly had the ability to make flowers bloom considering the reason he was there. it made his heart run laps in chest.
"they're hyacinths" they clarified, unable to hide their amusement with him, "they bloom wherever i walk, because apollo had a crush on this guy named hyacinthus or something. either way, it's not exactly the best combat ability" they said with a small laugh, and it seemed that today percy's heart decided to be a track star
"If it's any consolation, I think they're very pretty" he took a seat next them, sitting criss cross applesauce as they overlooked the strawberry fields
"thanks bubble brain"
percy quirked an eyebrow at the new nickname they had given him. usually he'd feel a little bit offended, but after seeing the smile on their face, he couldn't help but smile too.
"what? you're that poseidon kid right?"
percy laughed, "well, yeah. does that make you buttercup?"
"they're hyacinths, bubbles" they reminded him with a playful nudge, "and my name is (name), but buttercup is also accepted"
'note to self ' percy thought, 'stop and smell the hyacinths more often'
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Nintendo heels by Helen Red Richards (via)
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The Fruit After the Flesh 18+ -Chapter 9-
Minors DNI!
Masterlist
Approximately 4,872 words
Pairing: Thomas Hewitt (Headcanon) x AFAB reader
This chapters Warnings: Sexual language, foul language, scary moment. This is Slasher smut, be mindful of that and use your discretion.
A/n: This chapter took me so long to complete! I had to read over it and edit like four times. I took 48 hrs to make all the art pieces starting from 3pm march first until 6am march second, took a nap, started back up to finish the art at 2:30pm and finalized EVERYTHING for upload at 6am March 3rd. I'm tired bro, I got so carried away with the art I really should have cut it down to just 3 images but artists always suffer for their passion, it's our curse. Let me know if you want to be in the tag list. I update chapter progress on the masterlist whenever something changes.
Please enjoy this chapter! I worked very hard on it so reblogs, comments, and likes are appreciated very much.
Tag List: @fan-goddess , @artxasa
Chapter 9
The days at the Hewitt house went by slow as molasses, within these dragging days a construction crew had arrived and began repairing your home. They worked quickly and made a lot of headway which is unusual for contractors, the team seemed eager to leave for some unspoken reason. The foreman said that in one month, you would get your home back; you were excited to have your life get back on track despite enjoying your time at the Hewitt house. You made sure to water and trim the fruit trees so that they didn’t overgrow or die, since Dover was still missing, all the responsibility was left up to you. There was so much work to do but you were happy to be able to contribute your time to the property. In the passing days you didn’t see much of Tommy, he seemed preoccupied and was frequently away from the farm which only made the days last longer for you.
Half past 4pm, the day was really wearing on you and the sun was getting low in the sky so you decided to leave the orchard and head back to the Hewitt house to rest. On your walk back, you think about Tommy’s room and what it must look like, when you saw the door under that menacing red light it was simultaneously both frightening and intriguing.
The basement was such a dark and quiet place, so spacious and empty; You remembered that room with hooks that Tommy swiftly prevented you from exploring, your curiosity grew when he spun you around and slammed the door shut. This family has a mysterious history to you, the mention of them allegedly eating people weighed heavy on your mind -can I really get past the fact that they might have been cannibals? – it felt easier to gaslight yourself into thinking everything was fine, so you ran it out of your head.
When you arrived at the house, you make your way through the parlor and see Luda Mae sitting on the couch in the living room. She was reading a romance novel with a muscular, golden-haired man on the cover, it was reminiscent of the classics you had seen in your grandmothers closet as a kid. She sees you and places the book down to the side hurriedly as if she was ashamed of what she was reading,
“I-uh-ahem” She stuttered,
You smile politely “Reading anything good?”
She laughs, “Yeah, this one’s real saucy too. Thought I might get lost in it for a while.”
You felt bad for interrupting her, “Well don’t let me stop you, I’m just heading over to my room for some rest before dinner.”
she replies, “Oh, shoot that reminds me, best get dinner started now.” Luda Mae gets up with a groan and starts walking towards the kitchen.
“Time really does fly by when you find a good book.” She laughs as she passes.
You go to your room and get yourself changed and freshened up before dinner, you didn’t want to be around everyone while having the sweat of farmwork still lingering. You put on a comfortable pair of black tights and a white tank top which matched the white walking shoes you slipped on your feet.
When dinner was ready, you left your room to meet with the Hewitts at the dining table. The scent of roast chicken and baked corn wafted into the room, you were starving from having worked all day. Charlie was already sitting at the table when you arrived, he looked at you and said,
“Didja see the progress on the house?”
You take a seat, “Yeah, it’s coming along really fast, I’m surprised.”
He laughs “Don’t be, that crew probably knows this area ain’t so safe for ‘em. They’re smart, gonna get their paycheck and fuck off.”
You furl your eyebrows, “Why isn’t it safe for them?”
“Ah- Uh...” Charlie stopped himself when he caught a glare from Luda Mae from the kitchen,
“Well, what if they were to get hurt hm? Ain’t no hospital nearby or nothin’” he looked pleased with his answer.
You reply, “That’s a good point I guess.”
You know there is something more to what he said, but you didn’t want to push him. Luda Mae brought in the food, placing it all on the table followed by a big jug of ice-water, she groaned as she sat down; Tommy however, was missing tonight and you were worried,
You ask, “Where is Tommy? Is he not eating?”
Charlie laughs “That boy not eat? Maybe when hell freezes over after pigs fly n’ the fat lady sings.”
A devilish grin forms on his face before he turns to Luda Mae and says,
“Hey Luda, get the ball rollin’ n’ start singin’, then when the pigs grow wings Satan’s ass’ll turn to ice and the boy won’t be eatin’ us outta house n’ home no more.”
Luda Mae just rolls her eyes, she turns to you and says,
“Don’t worry hun, Charlie brought somethin’ to him so he don’t starve out there.”
You push for more info, “He’s been so busy lately; I feel like I never get to see him anymore. Where is he anyway?”
Charlie grabs a chicken leg and bites into it, he starts speaking with his mouth full,
“He’d shred us in half if we toldja. He’s been workin’ real hard though, wants to show you what all he’s been doin’ tonight”
Charlie swallows his food and continues, “He’s got a big ole’ hard on for you girlie, you better not be trailin’ him along fer nothin’, or he might lose it.”
Luda Mae whips her dishcloth at Charlie, who just smiles and winks at you. Luda Mae looks at you and says,
“Hope you get used to this foul-mouthed pig here, I might die from having to apologize on his behalf all darn day.”
She shakes her head at him and follows, “Thomas wants to meet up with you after you’re done eatin’. He wants to show you what he’s been workin’ on.”
Charlie pipes in, “Yeah, I bet he wants to show you somethin’. Probably whip out the fuckin’ anaconda he’s hidin’ down there. For an ugly motherfucker he sure was blessed. God is a real shit heel for that one.”
You squint your eyes at him, and he continues,
“He used to bathe outside when he was a youngin’ but once he grew up a bit the bulls started feelin’ emasculated.” Charlie starts laughing hysterically.
Luda Mae hides her face in her hands, she yells out,
“Why’r you talkin’ bout my boy’s privates like that!? You tryin’ to make us all upset?”
Charlie is now red in the face from laughing, he gets a sick pleasure in making people uncomfortable, but if anything, it just made you unbearably curious. You caught a glimpse of his erection when you watched Tommy run from you at the pond, it was greatly obscured but from what you could see, it was huge; You were able to feel the size and firmness of it in the laundry room, which factualized Charlies words.
He looked over at you, his eyes were watery from laughing so hard, he says,
“I’m sorry honey buns, but you need to be warned before you let him stick that goddamn two by four in ya.” He continues to laugh while he shovels corn into his mouth. You were still not used to his outlandish way of conversation and it made you blush.
The rest of dinner was mostly just Luda Mae trying to keep the subject matter light and Charlie giggling to himself. Once you cleared the table and packed away the leftovers, Luda Mae guides you to the door and says,
“Go wait for him by the silo, he’ll take you to his surprise. I hope you like it dear.”
The sun was now deep on the horizon which was losing its rosy hue, twinkling planets were already visible and the moon was following the dark part of the sky. You see Thomas leaning against the silo, he had one hand in his pocket and the other was fiddling with some wheat from the field to check the progress of the crop. He was wearing a very loosely fit tank top that looked old and worn, his pants were a pale blue jean with dirt and other stains scattered all over, he was still wearing his working boots which means he must have completed this surprise only today.
He looks up from what he was doing, when he sees you, he stood up straight, dropping the wheat to the ground. You could tell he was smiling, his deep blue eyes squishing upward gave it away, this made you smile wide as you felt knots form in your stomach. You felt like you hadn’t seen him in forever, time away really does make the heart grow fonder, it was agony not being able to spend time with him. He extended his hand to you and when you placed your hand in his and realized how small you really were compared to him, you felt like you could only hold onto two of his fingers while he could easily cover more than just your hand with his.
He looked at you and carefully pulled you toward the forest,
“Where are we going? It’s dark in there, sort of scary, isn’t it?” You were hesitant to be going into a dark forest as the sun was rapidly losing its light, he looked at you and tilted his head to the side,
“I’m here” he said calmly.
His voice was so deep and reassuring. You rarely ever hear him speak, so it felt like you won the lottery whenever he did utter out anything. He was walking slowly, he made sure to accommodate the vast difference in gait you both had by staying behind you, he guided you by gently moving you in the right direction with his hand on your shoulder. Even though you were nervous about the darkness of the forest, you felt safe with Tommy close to you. He was so large and unbelievably strong that there was no way harm could come to you.
Suddenly, Tommy stopped and turned you around to face him, he took your hands and covered your eyes with them, you couldn’t help but smile. He put his hand on the middle of your back to guide you further in, you trusted that he would ensure you don’t trip and fall. The ground went from dirt and crunching leaves, to soft grass, then a hard flat surface. Each step you took made a hollow wooden noise as if you were at a harbor. Tommy stopped you and moved your hands from your eyes. You looked around and gasped, you were on a dock that sat on top of the pond.
The moon was already shining a bright light on the water making it look like glass, the stars that now shone in the night sky were reflecting off the surface and turned the pond into what looked like a portal into space. The gentle croaking of frogs created a peaceful ambience, and as you walked further onto the dock you saw some wooden chairs to relax on, one was much larger than the other.
“Did you make all this?” your voice was exasperated with awe.
Tommy nodded again and pointed at you,
You smiled “You made this for me?”
He nodded again and went to sit on the largest chair, he tapped his hand on the other chair to get you to sit with him. You sat down and the deep seat forced you to recline which was relaxing.
“I’ve never had anyone do something like this for me. Thank you, Tommy, you’re such a thoughtful man.”
Tommy looked at you and nodded slowly, he made an approving ‘hmph’ noise, he felt good about pleasing you. The heat tonight was thick, it made your skin sticky with sweat, and you could see a slick shine on Tommy’s arms and chest. You get up from the chair to put your hand in the water, testing its temperature, small fish reveal themselves as they flash in the moonlight. You stand up and remove your shoes, Tommy stands up nervously and you giggle,
“Don’t worry, I won’t take off my shirt or underwear. It’s too hot to just sit down when we have the most immaculate natural pool right under our feet.”
You slowly take off your tights and fold them neatly on top of your shoes, the black thong you had underneath did nothing to conceal your feminine shape; Tommy turns away from you, staring off into the sky in an attempt to avoid gawking at you. It was amusing to you since he already saw most of your body the first time you were in the pond. You slowly lower yourself into the cool water of the pond, its cooling temperature feels like heaven.
Tommy heard you get in and slowly turns around to see you on your back, floating gently with the moon’s reflection circling your body, you looked like a goddess. You saw that he was just standing there watching you, you swim up to the dock and put your arms on the edge, you say,
“You know, you don’t have to just watch me.”
Seeing him act so shy was strange, a polar opposite of the last time you were both in the laundry room where he made no qualms of pushing himself up against your clothed pussy with his dick begging for entry. You watched as he took off his clothes, throwing them sloppily next to your neatly folded pile. You were annoyed that he was wearing black boxers which concealed the shape and size of his package too well, but being able to see his body almost completely unclothed was still enough to have you biting your lip in excitement.
Tommy had very long legs which were complemented by his thick thighs, his butt was muscular from having to haul his hefty body weight all over the farm. His torso was exactly as you pictured it, he had heavy muscle underneath a layer of fat that softened any sharp edges and did nothing but add mass to his already impressive size. His pecs were large and heaved with every breath he took, a smattering of soft hair covered the base of his chest and ran down his abdomen leading towards his groin, getting less sparse the lower it went.
Seeing him so exposed was odd, most people would look vulnerable, but he only looked more intimidating and fearsome especially since his arm muscles were well defined despite his soft torso. His size was not a mirage from thick clothes or padded jackets like most men you encountered, he really was authentically a behemoth of a man.
He lowered himself into the pond and let out a sigh of relaxation when he submerged his torso under the surface. You smile, and swim over to him,
“You deserve to relax after working so hard. I hope we could make this a frequent thing, something we could do together.”
You waited for a response, he looked at you and then up to the sky, he let out a positive ‘hm’ and nodded. You felt like you were in a dream, nothing you experienced was ever this beautiful, and no man was ever as generous as Tommy, you wanted to live in this moment forever. Tommy stands up in the water, he turns to you and grabs your hand to pull you to another part of the pond,
“C’mere” he says.
He pushes past some thick reeds and you end up in a tiny alcove where the water comes up to your chin and tall grasses circle you both which made the area very intimate. Tommy sees you struggling to keep your head out of water, he bends over you and grabs the smallest area on your waist under your ribs with both hands and he lifts you out of the water effortlessly. You let out a short-excited scream as he pulls you up and holds you close to his body. You’re barely able to straddle him, your chest was now just under his chin, your tank top clung to your breasts exposing your now hardened nipples. You placed both arms over his shoulders to prevent yourself from smothering his face with your bosom. He was so strong that you were able to sit comfortably on just the one arm, he looks out towards the grass and says,
“Watch”
Tommy used his free hand to splash water across the grass around you and it erupted with whirring, a horde of fireflies sprung out from their hiding places and lit up the night. You were stunned,
“I’ve never seen fireflies before, this is… this is magical.”
Tommy laughs and slowly turns to let you take in the full effect of the display before you, the glow of the fireflies created a warm soft light that was bright enough to let you see his eyes clearly, you couldn’t help but stare. He looked up at you, his eyes half lidded and glossy, he drank in every inch of the enchanting sight before him. When he looked into your eyes it was like projecting his soul into your mind, you could feel his emotions and you felt a deep comfort from it, like a warm blanket on a cold winter night.
You reach up and move his hair away from his face, he took your hand and held it to his cheek as he pressed his face into your touch, his eyes closing and letting out a deep breath. You smile at him and decide to be brave; you begin to slowly remove his mask but he abruptly stops your action with his hand, you could see his expression was full of worry, you say,
“If I keep my eyes closed will you let me take off your mask? I promise not to open them.”
Tommy looks off to the side thinking, he wasn’t scared of anything except losing you and he was worried that if you saw his full face, it would disturb you. He wondered what you were going to do, but the fear was stopping him from finding out. You see him deep in thought and speak again,
“Look” you close your eyes tightly, “I can’t see a thing, I promise I won’t peek.”
Tommy trusted you, and despite the anxiety running through his system, he removed his mask and let it hang down on one ear. He took your hand and guided it up to the left side of his face, which had no significant damage compared to the other side. You feel his stubble and softly move your hand down to his lips, they were smooth and parted slightly. You smile when your fingers reached his mouth, despite not being able to see his face, from what you were able to feel, you knew he was handsome. You slowly lower your head down and pause, hovering your lips over his and testing to see what he would allow. He didn’t resist.
You pressed your lips onto his and immediately felt a jolt of hormonal chemicals race through you like an electric shock, he let out a muffled sound of surprise. He pressed back and slowly lowered your body so he could kiss you on a more equal level. You extended the kiss by opening your mouth slightly, parting his lips only to press in on them again passionately, Tommy reciprocated the motion and was now breathing heavily through his nose, you could hear his heart beating loudly in his chest as he groaned with arousal, it was so deep that it vibrated into your chest further exciting you.
You could feel some strange deformation on one side of his face, your lips didn’t quite connect with his fully on his right side. You stayed closer to his left side since it felt a little bit more intact, you wished you could see how unique his face was. Imagining the damage done to him at such a young age was upsetting, it only emboldened your feelings for him.
The kiss was long and passionate, you both couldn’t get enough of each other, it felt like a sin to stop. Every time you pulled back from his lips, he leaned into you to catch them again parting and closing your mouths to enhance the connection you both so desperately craved. You could smell the air from his nose washing over you, it was strangely intoxicating almost like it was fresh mountain air which aroused you further. His free arm was now trailing up your spine until his hand found a resting place on the back of your neck.
You wanted more of him; your emotions were getting so intense that you moaned each time the pressure of the kiss increased. You placed your left hand on his shoulder, and your right on his collarbone. You ran your fingers over the thick muscle tensing on his neck, his carotid artery was pulsating with his heart beat, you continued feeling upwards and reached his jawline where his thick stubble prickled your fingertips. His features were so far above a stereotypically masculine ideal, it made you feel a cautious excitement, as if you encountered the final product of evolutionary success aimed to create a monster of man.
You finally pull away, making sure to keep your eyes closed. You are breathing heavily, letting out a soft moan as you lean your head back to get more air. Tommy covers his face back with the mask and gazes at you still drunk off the kiss and feeling lighter than air. The fireflies have now dispersed to the point where it was very dim around you both. He carries you back to the shallow area of the pond so you could stand up.
You smile, “Thank you for trusting me.”
Tommy nods and smiles under his mask. You wade in the water around him as he sits in the water so his torso is once again submerged, his head leaned back and eyes closed. You look around at the leftover fireflies lazily floating over top the glassy pond surface, the water gently laps at your hips.
A feeling of unease creeps into your body and raises the hairs on the back of your neck, you stop moving and a sudden wave of anxiety rushed over you. In this moment you freeze and quiet your breathing, you felt an instinct to try to listen to the world around you very carefully but you couldn’t hear anything out of the ordinary. The feeling of something being…off was now overwhelming and setting you on edge. You quietly move closer to Tommy to create a sort of protective border from the surroundings and hold onto his arm, he opens his eyes and looks at you with concern.
“Somethings wrong” you say in a hushed tone.
Tommy immediately got up from his sitting position and stood alert, he closed his arms around you and searched with his eyes to see what spooked you;
He breathed out slowly and moved you back towards the dock. You were confused and frightened, a tense gut feeling was like an ancient ancestral alarm which you knew should never be ignored. He helped you up on the dock and followed behind after you walked toward your clothes. You quickly put on your tights and shoes and as Tommy got his clothes on you looked around, trying to find the source for this sudden dread. You slowly panned across the forest, until you see it.
In the distance, and shrouded in the shadows of night, a silhouette of a person stood still. It was too dark to make out any features and just as you saw them, they disappeared into the bush as if they were nothing but a hallucination. You get closer to Tommy who just finished pulling his shirt down over his body, you press your back into him to feel a sense of security. Tommy looks at you and bends his upper body over you as he looks around,
“Where” he says firmly,
You point to where the shadow was and whisper, “There was someone there, watching us.”
He didn’t need to see what you saw in order to know that the energy outside had shifted, all he wanted to do was get you to safety. He lifted you up into his arms and held you tightly, he took one look around to ensure the exit was safe and bolted; His movements were agile and fast, it almost felt supernatural. The trees whip past and you quickly lose sight of the pond, his footsteps reverberating thuds as he moves through the woods with expert agility. Your eyes are wide with fear as you watch the forest behind you darken the further away you get; How Tommy was able to see things in the dark was a mystery to you.
Finally, you are out of the wooded area and coming up to where the silo was, the feeling of dread dissipates and Tommy slows his pace down, he wasn’t even huffing and puffing like most people would be doing after running so fast with a grown adult in their arms.
You hug him tightly, “Thank you for carrying me.”
You give him a kiss on his neck and continue to tighten your grip. Tommy brings you into the house and shuts the door behind you both, he gently lowers you to the floor, you keep hugging him as you stand on your tip toes. He felt very protective of you and was mad that someone scared you so much. His rage was building the more he thought about someone being on his property watching the two of you. He wondered how they would have been able to evade the multiple traps he set up around the pond perimeter.
Tommy grabs your shoulders and pushes you back slowly, he lifts your chin to have you look up at him. He sees the worried look on your face and it fuels his rage of the intruder,
“Go sleep, I gotta do somethin’.”
His voice was rich in baritone, you could hear anger in his words. You didn’t want him to leave, but before you could tell him to stay, he was out the door. You made your way to the washroom to shower off the pond water and get ready for sleep, Luda Mae and Charlie were already asleep upstairs, unaware of the situation. You were disturbed by what you saw, but as long as Tommy was out there, you felt safe in the house. You went to bed that night worried, who was that shadow and what will happen if Tommy catches them? The morning couldn’t come soon enough.
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ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — GOJO X FEM READER
When you took the job, you knew working the night shift at your local convenience store would be boring. That’s fine; you’re here to make enough to pay rent, not to smile for strangers who don’t care anyways.The appearance of a stranger who seems to have a lot to hide is tantalizing bait to your boredom, but you can’t give in. That is, if you have a choice at all.
wc — 3k
tags — mafia au but not really, implied but never addressed, is he or isn’t he, Gojo is Weird, blood, guns, this is not meant to be a serious gorey fic, its just a fun little way for me to branch out and stretch those writing muscles
They don’t pay you enough to keep guns under the counters, but it’s cheaper to teach you to shoot then it is to pay for security cameras. It would be cheaper not to show you to protect yourself at all, actually, but you’re the sixth cashier they’ve burned through in as many weeks. Even in a town as down as this one is, rumors spread fast.
The wages are shit, but it’s all you’ve got, and college is expensive for a degree as useless as yours is. Four months away from becoming a junior, and you’ve only held unpaid internships and this position as a cashier at a dirty, old convenience store on the wrong side of the train tracks.
You think the owner is hiding something, or maybe that’s just wishful thinking for a job as boring as this one. People come and go, make rude comments, pick up beer and slide you IDs you weren’t trained to check. It’s quiet enough to convince you to let down your guard, then your fingers brush the cold metal underneath the register and you remember the long line of unnamed, unknown girls who came before you.
This is the bad side of town, and you’re stuck here for at least three months, two weeks, and five days more. Lucky you.
At least the work is easy. It’s so far out that management can get away with the grime on the walls and pulsing, fluorescent blue lighting that gives you headaches. Even though they’re supposedly focused on keeping costs low and profits high as possible, the air con is always on blast.
There are no regulars here, not until him - the one customer you get past 3:00 am. The witching hour, if you believed in that sort of the thing.
You’ve taken to calling him ghost, your stranger. He’s just like one - as faded and pale as a memory, hard to discern between reality and the imaginary.
You had just thought he was another one of your kind, a student down on hard luck and keeping ungodly hours. This town would do that to you - strip you of any shimmer in your irises from before you came here and beat you into the ground. There was a little bit of sympathy for him, then. Sometimes you offered him a piece of candy in the bowl by your left hand.
He never took it. Just as well, it probably wasn’t safe to eat.
The bell on the door rings. On instinct, you lift your head, your hand going back to the comforting holster underneath the counter. It’s just him, however - piercing blue eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses and bone white hair. At first, you thought he was just high constantly, cause no one needs sunglasses when the moon is already rising in the sky, but the one time you caught him looking, the whites of his eyes had been clearer than milk.
The temperature shifts subtly when he comes in. It’s hot outside. Summer nights in July always feel disgusting. This town can’t pay for maintenance, so during the day, the asphalt cracks under the sun. Heat waves shimmer off the concrete side walks. It’s cooler at night, but not by much. When your tall, mysterious stranger comes in, he always brings the heat in with him, even if only for a moment. The thermometer’s red line goes up a few degrees.
He has a routine, like a clockwork doll. Heads for the back first, pulling the strings of his black hoodie down as he makes a beeline for the fridge. You think he might be diabetic as you ring up his order: same old, same old. Sugary blue pop, a packet of fruit chews, five hour energy. Something new, this time. You’ve never seen him grab actual food before, though this should barely count. You add the chips to his total. The money’s in your hand before you can ask for it.
Strange man.
Strange men are preferable to scary men, however. Customers come and go, often silent, always in and out like they were never here, but every so often, someone comes in who’s clearly looking for trouble.
And sometimes, there’s someone who’s so clearly dangerous it stops your heart.
He’s wearing a balaclava. It’s a trend now, you try to convince yourself. It’s fashionable.
No one cares about fashion in this town (no one but your ghost, that is).They’re too focused on staying alive. The balaclava wearing man is clad in all black. But the bad news is that he’s coming towards you with a plastic bag in one hand and a flash of silver in the other. The knife twirls over his fingers, over and over, rhythmic and steady like he knows how to use it.
You grip the holster of the gun. To be honest, although you were trained, you’re not sure you can do it. It’s only a comfort, like a child’s favorite blanket.
He thrusts the bag on the counter. “All the cash you have, bitch. Hurry up.”
You’re just a part-timer. You’re not risking your life for a dumb convenience store. Right as your hands move to unlock the cash register, however, the door rings again.
It’s him.
Black hoodie (a new one, with white and blue lettering down the arms), black oval sunglasses, hair bleached brighter than the corona of the sun. Warm air blows into the store, a miniature heatwave.
He doesn’t notice the man who’s currently hustling you for all the money in the store, but the man notices him.
“Get lost, kid! We’re busy here.”
He looks up, surprised. Then he ambles closer, as casual as if it’s a normal day, picking up his usual on the way: a packet of chips, blue pop, candy.
“Nah,” he says, voice calm and cheery. A lunatic, then. “I’m busy.”
“Do you understand what’s going on here?” The potential thief looks like he might be preparing to do something you’ll all regret. You wonder if you could use the gun to save someone else’s life. You don’t think so.
Your ghost let’s his sunglasses slip down his face. His eyes, as they always are in the rare instances he’s let you see them, are startling and preternaturally blue.
The man jumps. He seems confused, vacillating between fear and disbelief. It’s as if he recognizes him, just by the eyes alone.
“What don’t you get? Scram.” His blue eyes flash with restrained heat. “I’m not a patient man.“
Still, he hesitates. You wouldn’t. The words don’t seem like an empty threat.
Casually, your ghost throws his items on the counter for you to bag, pushing the man aside. In one motion, he has the knife. “I’m keeping this as a reward for my generosity. You have five seconds before I decide to take your spleen with it.”
The man with the balaclava looks at his eyes again, flicking between them and his white hair in fear before he comes to a decision. He bolts out of the store. You understand the sentiment a little. When you first met your ghost, with his hair like hoarfrost and eyes like the summer sky, you had felt the strangeness of him shake you too, as if something about him was fundamentally at odds with the world.
Your ghost snaps you out of your frozen stupor when he gestures for you to get on with checking his purchases out. This time, as he throws down his bills, you catch the flash of a shiny watch on his wrist, inked sleeves. His arms writhe with patterns of dragons and koi fish, characters for honor and glory and strength. He has money that people would kill for in this town.
He raises an eyebrow when he catches you looking at the symbols of the kind of wealth that shouldn’t exist this close to the outskirts of nothing. You guys didn’t even have a train that came reliably most days, the tracks scattered with litter and graffiti.
He’s cocky. The way few can afford to be. Real arrogance too, not borrowed, the kind that can make threats at the blink of an eye because they can follow through on them.
“Are you in the fucking mafia?” You ask in disbelief, remembering only too late that the two of you are strangers.
All of the fantastical stories you’ve made up in your head to explain away his strange appearance and late nights are just that: fantasies. Idle fairytales to pass the time. Ways to make your job less boring, soothe the ache of being a washed up nobody in your shithole of a hometown.
You are suddenly very aware of the presence of danger, the hair rising on your arms as your body reacts like an animal.
“That doesn’t sound like a thank you to me.”
His voice is slightly higher than you’d expect from someone in the mafia. For some reason, you’ve always imagined mafiosos would have a deep baritone, but his is smoother, even if it has a rasp to it, like he smokes as a hobby. You’ve never seen him pick up cigarettes.
Even more dangerously, you can feel the thread of attraction between you two, pulling taut. You want to know more, desperately, even when you’ve seen him threaten to gut a man as calmly as he picks out what flavor of pop he wants.
There’s no room for risk when you live here. All the perilous thrills you could want are already imbedded in your daily life. There’s nothing left for any more.
“That doesn’t sound like an answer to me,” you retort.
You shouldn’t be so comfortable with him - you aren’t, really, you’re aware of the fact that you two are technically strangers but if he wanted to hurt you, he could’ve done so already.
He laughs. Blatantly. A snickering kind of laugh, one that’s clearly directed at you, not with you.
“No,” he says, between wheezing for breath. “Not mafia. What, you read too much manga or something? I’m just an insomniac. Oh, that means I have trouble-“
“I know what that means!” You snap, humiliated, warmth burning on your cheeks.
Sue you for wanting a little excitement in this boring job, boring town, boring life. You were an idiot for thinking this lunatic could be the one to provide it.
He taps his cold bottle of pop to your forehead as he leaves, making you flinch. “You’re a weird girl,” he says. “I like you.”
I like you.
I like you.
I like you.
The words run through your head relentlessly, little greyhounds with too much energy yapping at all hours of the day. A little chorus of “I like you”s at all hours, making you replay the moment over. Stuck.
This town drives you mad. You haven’t had anything to love in a while in this cold, deserted place. It must be why you’re fixated on him. You’re imagining the obsession because you miss the feeling. The heart is a muscle like any other - it grows atrophied with disuse.
That doesn’t stop you from looking forward to seeing him again.
The next time your beautiful stranger walks in, he’s with a friend. That’s how you learn his name. His buddy looks like even more of a delinquent than he is - gauges, tattoos, piercings, all of it.
He’s gentler, though, more soft-spoken. Voice like a running stream, smile as soft as warm butter. This is the first time you’ve seen your ghost laugh, when too-many-piercings-to-count cracks some joke by the ice cream freezer. He catches you looking, long black hair flipping over his shoulder as his head whips around to face you. Ghost hasn’t noticed. He gives you a smile, but something about it feels wrong. You avert your eyes, and the boys are in the next aisle, hidden from view, a moment later.
“Hey,” Ghost says, his smile genuine. “Fancy seeing you again.”
“You know her?” His friend questions. “I’m so sorry. Gojo’s such a pain in the ass, isn’t he?”
You smile faintly. Something about his friend is terrifying. His eyes seem dead inside, pure black tar, sticky traps.
Ghost shoves him. “Back off. You’re the annoying one, she’s so much more spunky when it’s just me.”
You’re so focused on trying to keep yourself out of danger you don’t even realize the tidbit of information you have until you’re in the grocery store after your shift. As you’re picking out produce you realize - now you know his name.
This town and it’s stupid transit system has you waiting in the biting cold for hours. Your groceries are heavy and the bus petulantly refuses to come.
A motorcycle roars in the distance, dying to a purr as it stops in front of you.
“Hi, stranger,” says your beautiful ghost. “You want a ride?”
“Are you stalking me?” You blurt out.
Gojo wrinkles his nose, offended. “Who’d have time to stalk you? You can just say you don’t want the ride.”
“Wait!” This is a bad idea. This is a very bad idea. This is the worst idea you’ve had in a long time. You should listen to your mother when she tells you not to be reckless. “No, I do. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”
His lips curve into a brilliant smile. “I was just teasing. C’mere.”
He pulls a helmet out of nowhere - it’s clearly not for him, because his white hair is messy and windswept. He buckles it under your chin carefully. Under further consideration, he shucks off his black leather jacket and tucks it around you.
“Trust me,” he says. “It gets cold when you’re riding. You’re going to hold on tight, right?”
You wrap your arms around his waist.
“Nope,” he says, taking your hands and pulling you closer so you’re pressed right up against his back. You can feel the warmth of his skin through the thin fabric of his shirt. “You’re going to fall off like that. Address?”
He doesn’t just drop you off, he carries your groceries inside for you and makes you laugh as he helps unpack them.
Too late, you realize you might’ve given your address to a mafioso. Just because Gojo says he isn’t, doesn’t mean it’s true. He’s just hard to resist. You’ve always been weak for beautiful things, starved of it in this concrete city.
That’s when the flowers start showing up.
Did you mention you were weak to the beautiful things?
Massive bouquets of riotous color, flowers that aren’t even in season, that cost a fortune to ship.
Maybe it’s payment for his absence, because Gojo hasn’t shown up for the past week. The flowers keep coming - lilies with creamy white petals, extravagantly expensive roses, massive hothouse orchids. The flowers don’t compare to him.
It’s bad, but you’re addicted. He gives you a thrill like nothing else.
The next time you see Gojo, you hear him first. You’re closing another shift where you haven’t seen him and heading out the back door when you hear a noise like a wounded animal. A soft hiss of air escaping through clenched teeth.
“Gojo!” You gasp. He’s leaning against the bottom of the stairs, chain smoking and clutching his side. Red spills between his fingers, staining his normal white shirts a startling rust.
“Hey, stranger. Fancy seeing you here.”
“This is no time for your little jokes! Let me see that, oh my god-“
“Hey, hey,” he soothes. “No need to fret, it’s not serious.”
“You’re going to bleed out.”
“Nah. I know what that looks like.”
“Just- stay here, okay?”
“Not going anywhere, princess.” He smiles up at you, still fatally charming as his life bleeds out of his side. “You going to take care of me?”
“Against my better judgement, yes.”
Hauling out the massive first aid kit your boss keeps in the bathroom cabinets is a bit of an ordeal, but nothing compared to pulling Gojo’s shirt up and seeing the slash in his side.
“Worse than it looks.”
Well, at least he’s right about that. It doesn’t look like he needs stitches, but he’ll need to be very, very careful for the next few days. You dig through the kit for salve, bandages, and wipes. Gently, you set to work cleaning, then bandaging.
His head tips back, revealing the column of his throat, as he moans in pain. There’s a tattoo right between his collarbones, a stylized eye. Watchful. “Hurts,” he says.
“Serves you right, you big baby. Besides, isn’t this supposed to be nothing for you?”
“I’m not a mafioso,” he says with a smile.
You eye him disbelievingly as you pack his wound.
“There, all better.”
“Not quite.”
“What now?”
“Doesn’t a kiss fix everything?”
You know he’s expecting you to push him away, so just to be contrary, you lean in and gently peck the bandage covering his side.
His hand snakes his way into your hair and gently brings you back up, face to face with him. “Bad girl. You know that’s not what I meant.”
And then he’s kissing you like you’re his nicotine. He tastes like smoke and ash - not particularly enjoyable, but the more time you spent licking his bad habits from his mouth, the more you’re staring to enjoy them. Gojo is everything that’s wrong for you - secondhand delinquency, but he’s such a good kisser. He pulls away and mouthes down your neck, leaving bruising kisses all over your carotid artery.
“Pretty thing,” he murmurs against your neck. “Wanna take you home.”
You think he might be delirious and check him for a fever. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I’m serious,” he whines, forehead against your shoulder now. “Want you all to myself. Don’t want share with the convenience store anymore.”
He’s in no state to go anywhere, by the way he’s babbling. Just this once, you let him come with you.
The streets are quiet these days. Maybe they can smell the spilled blood on the doorstep, a warning flag to anyone who comes into the convenience store. Or maybe the man who waits for you outside is the warning.
“Anything interesting happen while I was gone?”
He’s come to pick you up again, black helmet already outstretched to you.
“No. You have anything to do with that?”
He smiles and leans in to brush his lips against your temple. “Everyone knows you’re off limits. You’re mine.”
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Bitter, had the Heart
Dead Tired (Tim Drake x Danny Fenton), Tim Drake-centric, unfinished, the author is plotting, temporary death, please check out ao3 for full tags list.
4/46 Chapters | Word Count: 5751
Chapter 4: You Stole my Fuckin' fruit snacks
Tim and Dick snuck into the warehouse through the upper floor window. The one they normally entered though. Jason was cleaning his nails with one of his knives waiting in the warehouse which had a few small collections of boxes stacked around the area. The lights flickered above making the scene eerie. The walls were creaking in the autumn Gotham wind.
This entire thing had been last minute, but it had been
Decided over a silent breakfast and staring at Dick. They had to go and meet this mysterious vigilante who had stayed so far from them for so long. It was better they do it now than let B be the one to meet. Both rescheduling their plans for the evening.
“Heyo Little wing!” Dick greeted a smile plastered across his face as Jason glanced off. His helmet set off to the side just wearing the red mask over his eyes for the moment.
“Hey,” Jason greeted back giving them a nod as he gave a spin to his knife before sheathing it.
“Where is Mr. Distortion?”Dick asked with a smirk crossing his arms as Jason shrugged.
“Fuck if I know, he comes and goes as he pleases. I’m not the boss of him.” Though Tim wouldn’t pick up on what Dick did. He could only read so much into a person. Dick was really good at it. While Tim could tell if people are lying Dick could tell you what about and could direct the conversation where he wanted it a lot easier than Tim could.
“So what made him change his mind? Getting caught in action by us?”Tim raised an eyebrow at Jason.
“You two are really just working on the same case but trying to tackle it from different sides. He has valuable information and wants this case closed as much as you do.”
“And how long has he been working on this case?” Tim was pressing.
“3 years.”
“The murders didn’t start until 6 months ago.”
“That’s what you think Replacement. It’s his case I’ve just been making sure he doesn’t get himself killed by my men,” a nonchalant shrug came from Jason’s shoulders. The tenseness in them though told him something else was going on. “Don’t know why he’s fucking late though.”
“Guess he got held up,”Dick chuckled until an empty cardboard box hit Jason in the head and bounced off towards the bats.
“YOU TRAITOROUS BITCH.”
They looked towards the voice and dropping from a small spot in the roof was the masked figure they’d seen running from the crime scene 5 days ago.
He wore no respirator this time but his goggles remained on. He was angry, that was for sure. He landed with a roll unsheathing a fucking batarang?!?! Oh yeah wait. That tracked. He had thrown one at the guy. Hit him actually.
Jason merely smirked as if this kind of response had been expected. Dick moving to pick up the cardboard box. Tim watched as the kid(?). He was short, okay?
The man with black hair whom they could Assume was distortion began his onslaught onto Jason. A swipe to the man’s arms as Jason blocked and moved to punch the kid who ducked underneath slipping between his legs and nailing a kick to the back of Jason’s knee dropping him down a bit as he used Jason’s shoulders as a vantage point flipping the man who was easily close to a foot taller than him. Jason hit the ground, hard. That didn’t unmotivate him though.
“Feisty tonight Dis.”
“Fuck you.”
“I didn’t do anything!” Jason feigned innocence as he kicked Distortion off of him sending the man reeling. Dick and Tim watching the man correct his position mid air to land sliding backwards hand on the ground knife behind him.
“Yes you fucking Did!”He hissed out as he charged again blade against blade before Jason managed to knock the batarang towards Red Robin and Nightwing. Tim picking up his batarang.
“Hey, Red I think that’s yours anyways right?”
“Yeah it is. So wait, what did you do?”
“One second.” Jason groaned out as Distortion wasn’t letting up and got a solid kick to his chest knocking the wind out of him. Tim thought he might have even heard a clean snap at some point as Jason landed a hook onto distortion blood beginning to trickle from his nose. Ignoring it though he pressed on.
“You went to my safe house,”Distortion began as he skillfully knocked Jason’s blade away and threw a kick at him. The leg going just above Jason’s head. “And stole my SHIT.”
“I left a sticky note! Also,”Jason caught Dis’s leg before flipping him this time arm against his throat. “Are you not taking it easy?”
Dis landed a hit on Jason’s nose sitting up coughing a tad. “WITH NO APOLOGY.”
Dick tapped Tim’s shoulder to show him the box in question. It was an empty box of fruit gummies. A sticky note haphazardly put on it saying ‘took your last pack’.
“I’d fight him too,”Tim nodded. “Especially if he did that to me.” Tim had a small laugh and couldn’t help but look at the silliness of the situation. Though it became clear Dis was lagging.
The fight finished not even 30 seconds later as Jason slammed his hand into Distortion’s leg and the man crumpled holding it.
He began cursing in… was that fucking Esperanto? Kid still landed a small kick on Jason’s ankle which had him cursing.
“You owe me so many fucking gummies you Dick head.”
“Yeah yeah whatever.” Jason offered a hand down to Dis who stood up moving to sit on a box as Jason went to go grab his first aid kit.
“So You’re distortion.”
“One and only.”
“Reminds me of Robin with less murderous tendencies,”Tim looked over at Dick.
“I have to agree,”Dick chuckled, pulling over boxes so they could sit. “So, are you finally okay with meeting two of the bats?”
“You’re stuck, I’m stuck. Guess it’s finally time to get my head out of my ass and ask for help.”
Jason came back with a kit the two bickering as Jason moved to cut away his loose fitting pants revealing the neatly wrapped wound soaked now in fresh blood. Tim could pick up that the man hadn’t really wanted to ask for help. He obviously was hesitant, untrusting. It seemed his walls were so far up, that it was a miracle Jason was close to him at all.
“Well it’s nice to meet you though I wish we could say we’ve heard of you.”
“I would be concerned if you had heard of me.” Distortion clarified flinching away from the other as he cut away the bandages handing him a tissue for his bleeding nose. “After all there is the whole ‘Batman doesn’t like Metas rule’.”
“You’re a meta?” Dick asked, leaning forward on his knees a bit. Dis nodded and held his hand up letting his hand fade from view. Right as he did it though he gave a sharp gasp of pain.
“Fucking hell,”he hissed out through gritted teeth.
“My hand slipped.”
Jason’s hands didn’t slip. He knew his elder brother far too well. He was hiding something. Dis wasn’t supposed to have outed himself. The cry of pain was the only explanation. The two of them seemingly having a quiet conversation to himself and Tom gently poked his brother’s side to see if he noticed it too and he did give a small nod in response.
“You’re the one who ripped their stitches,”Jason chided as he continued to work otherwise carefully.
Dis mouthed the words mocking him only eliciting another harsh pull from Jason.
“The case?”Dick redirected them back on task.
“Yeah, sorry. The case has been going on for 3 years. It’s the entire reason I ended up Gotham.”
“You’ve been here for 3 years? For a case?” Tim couldn’t hide his surprise at that. You didn’t just come to Gotham for a mere case.
“Not for this case but it did kinda fall into my lap yeah.” That made more sense, but still raised his questions for just how long this kid had been working under their radar. Not just how long, what was he capable of?
“So what do you know?”
“Hood wanna be a doll and grab my file since I’m currently injured,”The kid had a flair for the dramatic as he feigned a hand to his forehead leaning backwards on the crate looking absolutely “injured”.
“Fucking spoiled prick.”
“SAYs YOU!”
“YEAH SAYS I DIS! I’m the one who has to deal with your fucking bullshit all the time!”
All Tim could currently think about was how Jason had claimed he had not much to do with Distortion but from what he could see the two were remarkably close. Tim wouldn’t understand but he was admittedly jealous. He wished he could have had a better relationship with Jason from the beginning.
One that hadn’t ended in him being called Jason’s replacement. Tim wanted the Robin spot, honestly. He had taken it when Batman needed him most and needed back up and all he had gotten was shit for it. Maybe he had still been salty about that. The Robin who was the smartest but at what cost? He was the longest reigning Robin before Damian came along and forced Tim to change his name and realign himself.
When Tim had rebranded as Red Robin he had sort of gone on a quiet rampage. His morals thrown out of the loop in anger and he made some not so great decisions. Jason had found him then beating the shit out of a drug runner who had murdered an innocent little girl. It had been Jason who pulled Tim off the man in his late teens.
Jason who apologized to Tim for how he treated him, and that he was really trying to work on his anger and had confided in Tim about how badly his anger issues affected him to that day. He had called it Pit Rage. An ever consuming anger he couldn’t get rid of. Jason just seemed more relaxed than he had, ever. Maybe this person was doing some good for him.
Jason came back over handing Dis the manilla folders with neat labels and tabs.
“Year one we have out first 2 victims.” He pulls out photos. “Small but noticeable markings. Missing heart. Missing kidney. Blood everywhere, but it was almost more surgical?” He hands over the photos. “Then we have year 2. 5 in total. Same thing as the first two. Missing heart. Missing Kidney. Same symbols but we watch the motives slowly get more and more deteriorated. The kills start to get messy.”
Tim and Dick flipped through the photos noticing the same thing. “Like the person who did it in the first place was loosing the reason that they started doing it in the first place.”
“Yeah.. that’s what I was thinking,”Dis admits. “You’ve seen the most disturbing ones from this year, so I won’t go into detail about that. Here’s what you need to know that I know. I’m meta, and one of those abilities allows me to see things and understand things not known to the human eye, specifically on the field of the supernatural. Thing that one chick who I keep seeing posters of, uhhhh Hood help me out?”
“Zatanna.” Jason was mildly amused at him not knowing who she was.
“Yeah her. She’s dripping with magic, I kinda have access to see it, not access it but it’s an entire thing. Not important. What is important is how those abilities relate to this case.”
“Okay..”Tim nods taking in the information at hand. He was useful.
“Those markings are a language. Nothing that still breaths should be able to read it but those who have sold their soul, or been touched by Death themself can read it. Don’t ask Hood he can’t read it. I kind of can? Think like I understand it but it’s borderline untranslatable.”
“So our culprit either soul their soul or was touched by death and survived?” Dick clarified looking over to Tim who was thinking the same thing. Ra’s and John Constantine might prove useful to this case.
“Exactly. Ghost Speech can’t easily be translated, but I did manage to do it after going through like 5 languages until I could get it into English. Belong, to live, to die, again, trust not the living, friend.” Dis set the folder down. “I’ve been staring at those words for 3 years and I got nothing.”
“Belong, to live, to die ,again, trust not the living, friend. That sounds like a warning?”
“For who? Us? The serial killer is the one who’s torturing and murdering people!”Dis exclaimed. “Look, Red, Nightwing. I get it. You probably don’t want me involved but I am useful. You need me on this case!”
“Look, we’re not going to turn you away or down. This is more information than we’ve been able to get in the entirety of the case.”Dick began slowly. “But Hood mentioned you were weary of Batman. Red and I can respect that but if we officially bring you into this case you know he will get involved. He already is in terms of this case.”
“Bring me in.”
Tim and Dick shared a moment of surprise between each other. Jason would do that? For Dis?
“I’ll act as messenger when needed. It’s only a matter of time before the next body is dumped in my alleyways right? You let the kid help and report information to me and I’ll act as messenger.”
“You know this will mean you’ll have to be at the BatCave more, right?”
“Trust me, I’m painfully aware.”
“I have a question though,”Tim spoke up. “You removed a viscous green substance from the bodies. What was that? It was glowing.”
“Ectoplasm.”
“Pit water, but more pure,”Jason translated as he finished sewing up Dis’ leg.
“I still don’t know what that means,”Distortion whispers under his breath as Jason ignores him.
“So definitely something supernatural related,”Dick merely took it as a clarification.
“Exactly.”
“So our murderer is what, undead?” Tim rubbed his forehead a little in frustration.
“Probably.” Dis moved to examine the wrapping on his leg a moment before looking at the group as a whole. A small quirk to his lips as if he wanted to say something else but held back. “I’m not completely against working with Batman, but it’s just--”
“Just?”Dick pressed gently. “We won’t tell, you know. I hope Hood has spoken that much of us.”
“Yes, I know you two won’t tell. That is why it’s you two here. Closest people to the case right? I’ll help from the sidelines. Give you my information. Share, what I can but what I need is if you discover a body let me see it before you do anything.”
“What do you mean?” Tim crossed his arms a little, in a more relaxed way than before.
“I’m going to be honest, I think we’re up against a ghost. Which means a whole lot of issues for more than just you and I. If I can get my hands on the ectoplasm left on the scene I can start working on tracking him.”
“You mentioned Zatanna earlier. Do you think bringing in people who know that sort of magic will be any help?” Dick asks genuinely.
“No. No. No Magic users.” Distortion’s words were quick. Dick and Tim shared a look recognizing the panic in his voice. Jason said nothing off to the side either. The words hard to understand and distorted in their own right. Was that how he got his name? Jason walked over and rested a hand to his shoulder, the young man taking a deep breath, or really, several. The room dropping a few degrees.
How powerful of a meta was he? Tim noticed Jason’s hand grabbing the youngers wrist face dropped in serious thought as he counted heartbeats. Distortion pulled his arm away from him.
“I’m fine Hood,”he hissed out before looking back in the direction of the two. “No. Can you imagine how widespread the chaos would be if any of the mainstream powerful magicians found out about a Ghost being strong enough to commit murder? It would turn Gotham into even more of a bloodbath. They exist but they’re not supposed to be powerful enough to be so--so.”
“Consistent?” Jason offered before stealing Distortion’s arm again to check his pulse.
“Hood.” Another threatening glare between the two of them. Silent, but a conversation nonetheless. One Distortion obviously lost. “But yes. Consistent. There’s a reason Ghost’s aren’t commonplace here.”
“Wait, here,”Dick frowned this time. The two would be having serious conversations about not only Jason but his apparent ward.
A deep breath from Distortion. “Whoops, yeah, I’ve said far too much.”
“If you’re from the future, we've dealt with that kind of stuff before,”Tim offers an olive branch to the man. A hesitance in doing so.
“As long as you understand one thing, I don’t care how you identify me,”he chuckles standing up as Hood frowned and released his hand. He moved and made his way witha limp to the front of the warehouse.
“Dis!”Jason called out after him. “We need to ask about you--”
“Shut it Hood!” A frustrated groan and hands running down the side of his face. “Just know that I don’t exist. You never saw me. You don’t know who I am. It’s safer for everyone that way.”
And though, they saw him leave it was like he was gone and never was there in the first place. A cold chill coming in through the now open door and causing Jason sigh sitting down where he was.
“He’s a character,”Dick started. “His mood dropped there at the end.”
“Yeah.. he mentioned Justice League Dark to me once in passing too. I think he has beef with them. “
“It would explain why he’s so testy about magic users, especially if he can see the things they can too, without a spell.” Tim spoke up rummaging through the file some more looking over the hand scrawled tedious notes. Even the original workings through several translations with picture through history of Ghost speech written on the walls. It was more than Tim had ever thought he would have on the guy.
Dammit. Tim hadn’t gotten the chance to apologize to him. Fuck. Maybe he could chase him? He couldn’t be super fast with that injury, but then again he did have that whole weird disappearing act up his sleeve.
Tim was missing something. They both were missing something and it seemed very important they figure it out to unlock this case. He wished the man had the clean photos of the writing but it seemed he had similar bad luck with them. There were photos but they sure were blurry as fuck.
“Red.”
“Huh?” He looked up between the two to see which one called him. It was Dick.
“Any other questions to Hood? We gotta go finish our patrols before B starts asking questions.”
“Fuck, yeah. I have questions, too many, though. Distortion was honest all the way through. He hesitated on saying he was a meta though, and the fact he doesn’t want people to think he exist is concerning.”
“He lets me know he exists.” Hood snorts motioning to the discarded box of gummies from earlie.
“He trusts you, that much is obvious,”Dick gave a small chuckle. “Guy has more walls up than the fucking pentagon, but at least we could hack past those.”
“He wears his heart on his sleeve honestly,”Hood pulled off his helmet to reveal the domino mask underneath. “Trust me. He’s guarded about his past. About what and who he is but his real personality shines through a lot. I take him to the soup kitchen for me and he watches me back during particularly rough land grabs from other mob bosses.”
“He knows about the pit, which is more than any other civilian has ever found out,”Dick pointed out.
“You could say that again, this answered a lot if he’s right but fuck. It also gave us a lot more fucking questions.” Normally Dick would be on his ass all day for that swear jar money, it seemed he had decided not today.
“Let me be clear. What he said is right. He’s a fuckin’ ghost for all things considered. He knows far too much shit to be just a civilian. Trained too much to be a civilian. If he doesn’t have training he has experience. His knowledge of things far beyond our reach, our control? It’s uncanny.” Hood motioned for the file back and Tim gave a whine.
“Calm down Babybird I’m just gunna go make you a copy really quick of what’s in here,”there was an obvious eye roll to his voice that caused Dick to snort.
“Leave him along Little wing,”Dick teased lightly. “The mans was distracted on a date Wednesday and he’s been out of it ever since.”
“NIGHTWING, once again NOT a date!” Tim insisted looking at his traitorous brother.
“Uh huh, tell that to your little black haired friend who was laughing at practically everything you said.” A smirk as Dick playfully leaned on his knees.
“You are not doing this to me right now, I swear to god.”
“A date?”Jason’s turn to smirk leading the duo into his office. Medical supplies sitting on his desk as he moved to the copier.
“We can’t leave without that file,” Dick began moving to flop onto Jason’s couch. “So I’m going to temporarily enjoy this~”
“It wasn’t a date,”Tim insisted. “We literally just fucking met!”
“So you took him to a coffee shop and paid for his food and drink?” Dick offered.
“He’s my partner for the semester for my 101 Linguistics class!! We have a lot in common!”
“Dateeee~~~”
“No.”
“I don’t know Babybird, that does sound like a date.”
“You two are fucking impossible oh my god. He’s smart and speaks a million and a half languages guys! We started talking about those. He knows fucking Tagalog!”
“Oooo the baby bird got himself another genius to fool around with,”Dick wiggled his eye brows.
“Are those copies printed yet?”
“Almost,”Jason smirked.
“I might as well just finish this shift alone tonight. Face the wrath of B of doing it by myself than deal with you two.” Tim goes for the door.
“Okay okay,”Dick lightened up. “We’re glad you finally found a friend, not a date, a friend.” Jason and him shared a look which caused Jason to snort. Motherfuckers.
“I have friends!”
“A non-superhero friend,”Jason emphasized as he began gathering papers and clipping them together. “You‘ve needed one of those. One you’re not constantly worried about on the field. Or even better, one who won’t die as easily.”
“Hey!”
“He’s right though RR,”Dick spoke back up this time. “Proud of you. We do have to go so we’re gunna take those files and scedaddle. Anything else we need to talk about?”
“One more thing about Dis… he’s a good kid. I promise, but he can be brutal and obsessive at times. If you see shit involving him going down I need you all to promise to not intervene unless his life is in danger. He can handle himself but he is also,”Jason contemplated his words there for a moment. “He’s got the skills down and the experience under his belt but he has plenty other things going on that can leave him vulnerable during battle. There’s a fine line between him fucking with people and him struggling. If he uses his meta powers, join in because he’s doing to fucking drop afterwards.”
“Drop?”Dick sounded concerned and they both shared worried glances. “Is that why you were checking his pulse earlier?”
“… yeah.”
“Can we ask what specifically you were looking for?”
“I promised i wouldn’t rat him out. I am not going to break his trust like that.”
“Fair,”Tim took the paper’s from Jason’s hand folding them neatly and shoving them into his belt. “Ready to go Big Bird?”
“You bet. Catch you on the flip side Hood.”
“You too Nightwing. RR, get some fucking sleep please. I will call Kon.”
“You wouldn’t dare.” Tim would have made eye contact if it weren’t for the masks. “I slept a day or two ago!”
“A day or two ago,”Dick mimics. “Yeah exactly the problem, now come on Red.” Dick almost dragged him away before Tim could respond to Jason’s threats any further.
“THIS IS NOT DONE HOOD.”
“YES IT IS RED.”
“FUCK YOU.” Cue Tim flipping off the Red Hood as they left. The quiet sounds of grappling hooks going off and then silence settling over the warehouse and Tim left with far too many questions and concerns. What kind of Meta can’t handle using his own abilities? He thought that wasn’t how that worked.
At least Tim had gotten something out of tonight. He had liked Dis. The man was a firecracker and funny when he wasn’t being serious. A bigger Damian if you would, but at least Hood had a better control over this one. At least he trusted this one not to outright stab him. Ha, Big Damian. Their little brother would definitely clash with Dis if/when they met. Tim was almost excited to see it happen.
“So what are we telling B again?” Tim voiced silently as they were a few houses down.
“We found a lead but had to turn off coms so we couldn’t be found. The lead wanted total security.” Dick replied with ease. “Hey Oracle.”
“Nightwing—“Tim didn’t get to finish his statement before Oracle’s voice came online.
“Ready? I’ve been spewing lies for hours now Nightwing. You owe me.”
“Yeah yeah. I know. I’ll come by and make dinner one night, we can watch a movie.”
“Movie night?”Tim asked.”Can I join?”
“Yes you can Red, thank you for asking.”
“We should stop the small talk before B spasses.”
“Probably. Reconnecting.”
B’s voice was immediate. “Nightwing, Red Robin, report. Why were your coms offline?”
Tim was letting Dick trip over himself with this one quite enjoying the show.
————————
Damian Wayne liked to think, no he knew himself to be the best of the children when it came to several things. Grades(mostly only being topped by Drake), Fighting, and most importantly Stealth. The only other one coming close to him being Greyson with his light feet and acrobatic training.
So when his father had come to him telling him tonight he would be checking up on Hood instead of their normal routines, honestly, Damian had been excited. Excited at the prospect of a fight. Excited at the idea of proving himself worthy to his father.
What he had been told and what he knew though were two different questions.
He knew Red Robin and Nightwing were supposed to be patrolling the docks.
He knew Jason Todd Aka Red Hood was acting quiet and suspicious and had been for months.
He knew that Father would be annoyed that the trio of them were meeting.
What he had been told though was another thing.
He’d been told to keep his head down.
He’d been told that Red Hood was violent, Damian had already thought otherwise in the guy who made him vegan cookies and sneakily brought them to the manor and set them on Damian’s bed every time. He got along with Todd even if it was in their silent sparing sessions during his rare visits.
He was totally not jealous to see the very obvious affection he was showing for somebody— some nobody. His father had asked him to watch Jason and then leave and report back, that was all. He was to not engage and while originally the plan had in fact been to just hang out with Jason for the night, things had obviously changed.
Something felt off about the stranger clad in black. Whispers through the air like a mistake. Something was wrong with that guy, and not just in the fact that he was obviously injured. Something was just off. That also meant he didn’t trust that man around Todd.
He moved closer keeping an eye on what was going on the slow curling and whisp of ideas floating inside of him.
The pit calls
It whispered. A familiar feeling when Todd was near, yes. A longing feeling drawing him closer to the man with Lazarus water running through his veins, but it had never called this loud before. He hadn’t even told the others he could tell when he was near the pits of Gotham. The festering bubbling green waters.
When the stranger left, his feeling of the pit began to die down to the quiet hum of the familiarity of Jason.
And then it was behind him.
“You did a pretty good job hiding you know.”
How was he able to see him… Damian looked back unsheathing his katana pointing it at the stranger who was leaning against the door to the building bright green goggles glowing with that unearthly Lazarus green.
The man put his hands up stepping out of the shadows. Gently moving to push the katana out of the way as he began to circle Damian, and for the first time in his life.
Damian felt like prey.
Like the predator before was watching with a smirk. He gave a gentle smile but Damian noticed the sharp fangs protruding from his mouth as he gave a sinister smile.
“If you weren’t radiating ectoplasm I wouldn’t have been able to detect you,”he gave a low chuckle that reverberated through Damian’s veins.
“Who are you?” Katana remaining up as they seemed to circle each other. Damian in a defensive position.
“Come on, I think the question you’re more curious about is what I am.”
“Then answer whatever question you wish.”
“So cold for the young Robin. Red and Nightwing have so much more spunk than you.”
“I can show you spunk.” He bolted forward at the man who dodged hands behind his back. Dangr. Danger. Danger. It filled his senses no, it consumed them. What the fuck was he. His Lazarus sense was on fire. Blinding. Nauseating.
So when he felt the stranger pulse with the energy of the pits calling upon it from just somewhere he felt overwhelmed dropping to the ground unable to stop himself from puking. He expected the figure to attack him. Kill him in his moment of weakness.
But no.
Instead he felt a gentle gloved hand rubbing his back and the figure was crouched next to him rubbing small circles.
“Shit, sorry kid. I just wanted to fuck with ya’ didn’t think you were that sensitive to me,”he apologized with genuine concern in his voice. “Fuck.”
He smacked his hand away wiping his mouth breathing heavily. The figure stepping away getting the cue.
“Leave Gotham… you thing.”
“Thing? Now that’s hurtful.” The man chuckled. “Look. I am sorry for what it means from a stranger. I got to go and I’m sure you do too. I don’t think you want your fellow birdies to find out you were here right?”
“I don’t follow directions from monsters.”
“I’m not a monster.”
“You radiate danger. It’s in your entire being.”
“I didn’t realize I still radiated that. I didn’t even know those infected could still pick up on me, different breed and all.”
“Different breed?.”
A small gentle smile. “Different breed of those infected with that you guys call the pits. I’ll keep away now that I know though, but if I have to fight near you kid. You’ll have to get that sense of yours under control.”
“I can’t control it.”
“Yes you can.”
The man handed him his katana back before backing up again.
“I’ll stay right here,”The man gave a smile moving to sit down himself. “Close your eyes. Feel where all the energy is.”
Damian hesitated. Would this be weakness? Was he the enemy? He slowly adjusted to sit like him closing his eyes focusing on the feeling.
“Imagine it as a bubble. A giant bubble as far as your reach will lead you.” Damian could feel the waters through the man and feel Jason and his movements next door.
A slow growing toxic green bubble seeming to encompass all he could sense.
“Good. Now take a deep breath and deep in your chest pull that bubble in with every breath. Slowly. It’ll overwhelm you if you try to reign it in al at once.”
Damian obliged, what the fuck was he doing. “No. It’s not working you are lying to me.”
“I’m not lying.”
“I am not going to listen to someone maddened by the pits far more than Hood.” The man put his hands up again.
“Then be my guest to faint next time I do more than flare my abilities.”
“Who are you…”
“A friendly,mostly. if you need some help, though Feel free to ask Hood all about who I am.”
And with a blink of an eye he was gone, and Damian knew he was right. He had to fucking move. He rose with shaky knees.
His father did not need to know about the powerful entity able to bring him to his knees. Maybe he did? Would the being be able to bring him to his knees too?
No. He would not his weakness. He would not let anyone know what a walking pit of toxic waste that person was. Not until he could determine what exactly could bring him down. For now, all his Father would know was that Jason was going over some of his own investigations details. That is all. He moved positions to readjust himself to look into one of the windows. Only leaving when the sun began to peak over the horizon.
He was surprised his body handled making it back at all. Ignoring the brief look of concern and comment from Alfred about how pale he looked as the child changed and headed to bed for the few hours of sleep he would obtain.
He wasn’t going to tell anyone about that.
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Waltz of Four Left Feet
cw/tw: no curses/law school AU set in the 2020s, slice of life, unmotivated lawyer/law professor!higuruma x ??? female reader, established relationship, smoker higuruma headcanon, yuuji as higuruma's favourite student/law apprentice, yuuji spitting facts and meddles with the best of intentions, flashbacks of a meet-cute-ugly, inaccurate depictions of law school life, fluff, did I say slice of life already? (lol) + another marriage proposal.
wc: 1.1k
"You do know that with your current knowledge and experience in the field, you're on the right track to becoming a great judge. Think about it, will you? Brilliant ones like you don't come around too often."
Hearing superiors, colleagues, students, and strangers alike sing his praises did not stroke his ego at all. More than anything, Higuruma felt a dense weight on his shoulders. Apart from being a lawyer himself, he was an educator, and he felt equally responsible for ensuring his students have the right knowledge at hand when they become lawyers themselves in the future.
And he was fine with that. Becoming a prosecutor? A judge? Those were far too ambitious for him to consider, let alone even think of. Until…
"That's not a bad idea, Higuruma-san. If you become a judge, you'll have more than enough to marry your girlfriend and provide for your family."
Well. That's another way to look at things.
Higuruma was taking a short smoke break in between his classes when one of his favourite students approached him with a chilled canned coffee in hand.
"Are you done with your readings, Itadori-kun?"
Educators shouldn't favour one student over another because it clouds their judgement, yet it was hard not to be drawn to Itadori Yuuji's enthusiasm for the law profession. The young man had enough promise and ambition for them both, and Higuruma made it his personal mission to mould the boy into a lawyer who would be praised just as much as him.
"And you've been with her for how many years now?" The younger man continued as he counted with his fingers, ignoring his mentor's question. "You really should be stepping up and proposing to her or something."
Higuruma breathed his cigarette deep and let out a drawn out exhale that seemed more like a sigh of frustration. "You really think I don't know that yet, kid?"
He first met you in a local coffee shop some years back after you both accidentally spilled your coffees on each other. Instead of being pissed at him, you laughed off the incident as a simple case of bad luck, something you obviously both shared on that day since it wasn't just you drenched in an Americano. He was equally soaking in your favourite latte.
And like a sunflower drawn to the warmth of daylight, he was easily charmed by your bright optimism— very much so that he didn't think twice when you asked him for his contact details (to pay him for his suit's dry cleaning).
Your second meeting at the same cafe wasn't so bad if not for the barista switching your drinks. You laughed it off as you drank your latte with his name on it, somehow tasting sweeter than the usual.
They got it right the third time. You guys were regulars by the fourth.
Higuruma once made the mistake of taking some of his law firm's apprentices to the very cafe you frequented and none of them were able to figure out why he froze at the entrance and urged everyone to find someplace else to have coffee.
Everyone except Yuuji, who followed his mentor's gaze and found a woman smiling at him from across the cafe. His attention to detail was both a boon and bane for him, and a stroke of bad luck for his professor, who unknowingly revealed his most well-kept secret. You could only laugh and shake your head as your boyfriend trailed behind his students, obviously trying his best to stay composed.
When Yuuji found you in the cafe the following day, he bought you a fruit tart. "You must be Higuruma-san's mysterious girlfriend."
"Can you keep it a secret for us both, Yuuji-kun?"
You became fast friends with the boy, too, much to Higuruma's embarrassment and enjoyment. You found it a pleasure to quiz the men with their subject cards even though you knew nothing about law while they weighed in on your own work matters.
"Higuruma-san, you aren't like those people who are married to their profession, are you?"
"Of course not. Now get back to your readings."
His dismissal of talks about marriage was off-putting, but Yuuji knew that Higuruma was just stalling for time. For whatever reason, he'll probably never know.
Higuruma stubbed out his cigarette and threw the butt in the nearby receptacle.
"You have a pretty cushy salary, if you ask me. But if you aren't going to obtain a judgeship like the other professors suggested, what else is stopping you from getting married?"
Oh, right. Yuuji was still there.
"Those readings aren't going to do themselves."
Something did stop him, in fact. It was the fact that you two never really spoke about it. Marriage.
Your relationship was like an ongoing dream for him. One he hadn't woken up from yet because of how airy it made him feel. Just like how a sunflower curled in the direction of the sun, so too did he whenever you were asleep in bed together, curling into your warmth as though he wanted to keep it for his own.
And when he told you over dinner about the judgeship offer from earlier in the day, you replied to him with the same optimism that drew him to you from the start.
"Hiromi, you know I'll always have your back in whatever it is you decide to do. If you wanna go for that judgeship, I say go for it! But you don't have to force yourself, either," you reassured him with a warm smile, one that pulled a similar grin to his own tired face. "Though I suppose some extra shopping money wouldn't be so bad."
"What about m…" He started, only for his voice to fail him. His favourite student would probably be berating him for being so nervous over nothing. Over everything.
"What?"
"Marry me."
Your cutlery goes quiet against your plate, a twinkle in your eyes he mistook for something else. He was planning his escape route now. Your upfront refusal was kindness enough, he thought to himself. But was he really going to stick around and listen to you enumerate the reasons why you wouldn't—
"Of course I will, Hiromi."
"Huh?"
"Oh, my silly little doomer. Did you really think I'd refuse to marry you?" You chuckled at him from across the dinner table. "After that question, expect to be stuck with me for good."
Higuruma laughed, the rumble coming deep from his core. As if there was anything else he'd want more than that. You were all the optimism he needed in his life. "I suppose you're stuck with me then, too."
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HEART EYES CRY BLOOD!!
or: yours sincerely, wasting away.
gn!reader, blood, violence, and extended discussions of death, the world’s worst stress dream with a happy ending, i promise. life and limb and all that. my undying and eternal gratitude to @zozo-01 and @androgynouspenguinexpert, who sacrificed their time, laptop battery, and brainpower to feed my delusional mind, and all my love to @sincerelywhistler for creating possibly the most beautiful vega on earth and inspiring the barbie ponytail agenda. warden not wanting to miss a thing in 16,800 words or less.
this fic is the combination of two other series of mine, human nature and peaches and cream – it’s entirely possible to read this fic without having looked at either of those, but i think you’ll enjoy it a lot more if you know what’s happened so far in both of them!
human nature masterlist
peaches and cream masterlist
main masterlist
Recipe for undying love:
Add veneration, sacrifice, and subversion to a small saucepan, and simmer over medium heat until thick enough to coat the back of a teaspoon.
Stir in devotion until fully dissolved, then immediately remove from the heat.
Mix blindness and faith together in a separate bowl, then add slowly, mixing until fully incorporated.
Transfer mixture to clean bowl, then sift in persistence, stirring continuously until mixture becomes thick, smooth, and glossy.
Add fortune to taste, then transfer mixture to a greased and lined tin. Bake for 35 minutes at 180°C, or until a skewer comes out clean.
Leave to cool slightly on a wire rack before turning out. Best served warm with cream and fruit, but can be kept forever in an airtight container until you are discovered, or until all escape conditions have been met and the universe can begin again.
It starts…
…to be honest, you don't actually know how it starts. It's a total mystery, as far as you're concerned – it could have been anything. You're not sure if you were even there at the time, or if you just stumbled in by accident. You don't know when it starts, or who starts it, or why it even starts at all.
More importantly, you also don't know how to get out.
The first time was a total accident. You'd not gone far, only for a little walk down to the park for some fresh air. It’s kind of a weekly thing, you see. Both of you have to do it – it’s important that the neighbours see you two doing ordinary human things like shopping and walking and laundry, so they don’t get suspicious.
Obviously, you have to modify your human form a little bit so that you can’t be recognised by anyone who might be looking for you, and it’s a little bit annoying. Hiding your demonic features is less comfortable than it used to be, so you’re always grateful to come home and shed the disguise. It’s just so itchy, so stiff and awkward – your gums ache with the quiet pressure of suppressed fangs, and your skull cries out for the horns that it knows should be there.
Sometimes you go together, and other times you go one at a time. Going alone is fine, even if it gets a bit tricky trying to field questions from your neighbours. The two of you came up with a cover story when you moved in, and you've done your best to stick to it – it's kind of a silly story, and you had to watch a lot of television to make sure you got all the details right, but it seems to be working.
You did your best to make it as bland and generic as possible – no details that anyone could use to try and track you down. Forgettable. You never mention how you met, or even anything close to it – in fact, you and Vega have never even heard of Dahlia. As far as your neighbours are concerned, you're newlyweds from the other side of the state, looking for somewhere to settle down. That’s a pretty normal thing, right?
Vega's job – you still haven't really decided what it is, but definitely some sort of dull office thing – lets him work from home a lot more than it used to, and your job (Vega suggested ‘copywriting’, which is apparently some sort of bookish computer-y thing to do with adverts) is mostly online too, so you thought you’d take the opportunity to get a bit further out of the city. Both of your families live out of state, which is why nobody comes to visit you, and nobody saw you moving in because… um…
…oh, because it was very sudden! Yes, that’s it. You’d heard from a friend of a friend that the family who used to live here had to move because of a work thing. Some sort of exciting opportunity that had come up, maybe? Or a promotion? In any case, they’d practically jumped at the chance to sell their house to you so quickly. You and Vega had been living in a tiny flat in the city, so you hadn’t really had much stuff – no need to pay for a huge moving van, right? It’s not surprising, then, that nobody had seen you arrive.
Yeah – yeah, it’s like you just appeared out of thin air. Yeah, that’s so funny. Haha.
Unfortunately, everyone seems very chatty in this tiny little town, and keeps asking difficult questions. It got a bit awkward when one of the neighbours asked about why you didn’t have a car – luckily, Vega had been there at the time, and managed to make up some lie about having taken it for repairs a few days ago. That evening, you’d both spent several hours on the computer trying to figure out what sort of car you were supposed to have, and you’d even gone on a little reconnaissance mission around the neighbourhood, to see which types and colours of car people living here tend to have.
It’s in the garage now, some generic-looking shiny thing in some inoffensive colour or other that Vega magicked up with the help of a very complicated-looking repair manual. Unfortunately, neither of you actually knows how to drive, which makes it a bit hard to actually look like you’re using it – the whole driving thing is much less intuitive than either of you was expecting, and neither of you have been able to make it do anything useful! It’s a nightmare!
You could probably make it go with magic, but if you’re honest, that’s a lot of effort and energy for not a huge amount in return. For now, you’ve just settled on leaving the garage door open and conspicuously washing it with a bucket of water and a sponge every so often, to make it look like you know how to use it. That’s probably enough, right?
It was kind of difficult, trying to figure out what things you needed when you first arrived. All those mundane human things that they like to keep in their houses, like lunchboxes and pianos and those bicycles that say they’re for exercising but don’t actually go anywhere. When you’d arrived the house had been furnished with all the stuff that the, uh, previous tenants had owned, but it’s better to be safe than sorry. If that means having to drag Vega all the way to the closest garden centre at 9am on a Saturday to go and choose a suitable plant for the empty space on the front lawn, then so be it.
(Obviously, it’s a peony. Dark pink and white stripes, big flowers with soft petals. What else?)
You know what, it doesn’t even matter. You’re just rambling, now. The important thing is that you’d not been home when you felt it, that very first time.
You’d been about five or six minutes away, walking back through the park. It was busy, so many humans around that you couldn’t do anything suspicious – but you’d felt it, all the same. Gravity failing, air rippling around you, something deep and vital being snatched away. Silence where it shouldn’t be, a dry sort of cold, bitter and biting. No moisture in the air left to freeze.
Panic – pure, unfettered panic, turning your body to acid. All you could do was run.
Fighting your way through the slow, stupid humans that blocked your path, streets flying past as you pushed yourself faster and faster. Something had been wrong, so incredibly wrong, pulled out from under you. Running across the road without looking, footsteps loud against the pavement, turning the corner, and-
You’ll never get your hands on us again. Either of us.
Yellow caution tape, stretched across the street, fluttering just outside the boundaries of a tall, solid ward. It’s enormous, a huge dome that ripples and pulses with power. If you were human it would probably have been imperceptible, but to your demon’s eyes it was more like frosted glass, obscuring what was inside but not quite hiding it. You could make out the blurred shapes of people inside, but no more – the magic was almost unbelievably strong, all thick and liquid. What could have been happening?
You’d known you had to get inside. But how? It didn’t feel like Vega’s magic, there was none of that familiar sherbet fizzle on your tongue, it didn't bleed into your aura in that seamless, easy way. This had been something else, something wrong – grim and cold and clumsy, more of a sledgehammer than a switchblade.
Ducking underneath the tape to face it, your stomach lined with lead. Someone else was doing this.
It recoiled from your nervous touch, or maybe it just pushed you away? It was like gravity, or maybe magnets – like poles repelling, your own face in the mirrored surface of the ward.
Gritting your teeth, you’d forced your hand into the seething mass of magic up to the wrist, and though it screamed for you to leave, you didn't give in. He’s taught you too well for that. The world swam around you as you fought your way inside, and it was like trying to walk through oil, sticky and solid.
Closer, closer. Your body, getting impossibly heavier the further you go, laden with the iron weight of so much magic pressing in on you from every direction, and oh, it hurt, it hurt. Crushing, grasping, squeezing pain, trying to trap you in its brutal fist – but with every torturous step, the picture got clearer. Cars, more than normal, parked haphazardly in the street. Trees, still and unmoving with the lack of breeze. And humans, all dressed alike, swarming around the middle of the street, running into one of the houses – wait, that’s your house – the sound of shouting, screaming, gunfire—
Are you there, darling?
Delta uniforms. It’s the Department.
They’d found you.
If you’re being entirely honest, you don’t really know what you did next.
You didn’t scream, you’re fairly certain, but you think you froze. Paralysed with panic, all you could do was stand and watch as the shrieking carnage began, a crashing wave of blood and death and fire, and the whole new life you’d built for yourself turning to ash in the summer sun.
Hidden behind a parked car, you’d watched in horror as more and more humans poured into your house, descending upon the eye of the storm. Windows breaking, walls crumbling, your lovely front garden set ablaze and trampled into nothing. Magic coursed through the air with every breath, every fabricated cell of you singing with vicious power as wards formed and shattered, as the earth slipped and shuddered, as pure, seething energy tore through brick and bodies alike.
Pain, raw and ravenous, the sort you thought you’d escaped from long ago. Flooding your body, lighting up every simulated nerve – the hateful heaviness of your physical body binding you to the ground. You couldn’t make sense of it. Falling down inside your own mind, dizzy spirals in the riptide of anguish that swept you away.
Away from home, away from him. How could you have been so stupid?
I can feel you, darling. You are there, aren’t you?
Vega’s voice in your head, fainter than you’d ever heard him, fault lines in the asphalt. Staked to the spot, waist-deep in the sand. You couldn’t say a word.
Precious thing, you have to leave. Leave now, and you must not return. This place will never be safe for you again.
Something building in the ground, in your core, in the atmosphere – magic, but whose? His words, fractured glass in your shattered mind – how you’d fallen to the ground, ears ringing, crushed under the incredible pressure. How you’d tried to crawl, dragging your pathetic form out from behind the car, brittle claws snapping and breaking on the ground.
A word that wouldn’t form, desperate and terrified. The liquid mess of your face, the bloody puncture marks in your lip. Panicking, panicking, all your insides turning out. You’d screamed aloud in agony, uncaring and unknowing of who might hear – your only thought was him.
I know it hurts, my sweet. I know. And I’m sorry.
Wanting him, needing him, every molecule of your existence set ablaze in horror. You’d been so utterly blinded by fear that you couldn’t even think about fighting it, so absolutely consumed by this new, most instinctual panic. A frightening crescendo in the Spellsong, so unbearably loud in your core. Drowning, drowning, clawing at your own throat for something that wasn’t there. Voice breaking, heart breaking, teeth and gore and hatred.
If only we’d had more time.
A celestial being, struggling to breathe. The unfeeling terror of the vacuum of space. Every nerve singing with pain, overwhelmingly bright and crushingly dark all at once – your skin peeling away, blistered and burning as your heart turned to diamond and your eyes turned to ash, and this world and this plane and everything in it—
Goodbye, my darling.
-ceased to be.
I love you very, very m—
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It starts…
…wait, it starts?
What?
Fuck, it feels like your head’s about to split in half. You crack one eye just barely open, before clumsily slamming your hands over your eyes with a weak hiss – it’s so bright, that single slice of sunlight, and it hurts.
Blinded, you can’t tell what’s happening at all. It feels like you’re lying down, something rough and painful scraping against your face and all down your right side, and through the insistent ringing in your ears you can hear something…. rustling?
It takes a few minutes for the worst of the pain to subside, but before long you’re able to peel one hand away from your face and push yourself up to sitting. Your head won’t stop spinning, but it’s progress, at least.
Timidly, you blink one eye open, peeking through your fingers just in case, but the worst of it seems to have passed. As your eyes adjust to the light, you realise where you are.
You’re… back in the park.
The roughness you were lying on is the paved path that you always follow on your way back home, and the unusual sound you could hear is coming from the trees overhead, leaves rustling in the gentle breeze. It’s just as busy as it was earlier, and the humans walking past seem to be staring at you warily, collapsed in the middle of the path – hurriedly, you check that your human disguise is in place, but it turns out you didn’t need to worry. You were already camouflaged, just as you were when you last walked through here.
But – but how?
The terrible aching in your head is the only sign – you can’t find anything else wrong with you, physically or magically. How did you get here? What happened to you? And what’s that – that feeling…
Staggering to your feet, you ignore the stupid human onlookers and their stupid whispers. It doesn’t matter what they think, and it doesn’t matter how you got here. None of it bothers you, nothing can touch you now. All that matters is what happens next.
You’ve got to do what he said, you’ve got to run – there’s nothing left for you here any more, is there? They’ve taken it all, haven’t they? This place isn’t safe anymore – the Department will be hunting you now, they’ll be here any second, and you aren’t far enough from where – from where they – they—
Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it.
Looking away from the gates in the distance, back into the park, you can see the dark nest of trees that you’ll have to reach if you want to rift away unseen. It’s not far, maybe a little more than a hundred metres. If you ran, you could be gone in less than a minute. You don’t know where you’d go, but anywhere has to be better than here, right? You couldn’t possibly stay here, a fly desperately clinging to the web – he’d want you to escape, wouldn’t he? Isn’t that what he said? That he wanted you to be safe, and leave him behind?
Can you leave him behind?
It’s ridiculous. Even if you went back, what would you do? You’d be walking straight into a trap for nothing. Demons dissolve when they die, magic scattered back into the universe – there’ll be no body for you to find. Even now, at this very moment, everything that made him will have already disappeared, never to return to you again.
He’s gone, he’s gone. You try to suppress it, but you can’t – in your mind’s eye, you can’t help but see it – your house, your lovely warm house, with the photographs you took hanging on the wall and the flowers blooming in the garden that he grew for you. Perhaps they’re still there, or perhaps they’re destroyed – perhaps you’re the only one who remembers them now. Are you all that’s left of your love?
You look towards the trees.
You’ll leave. You’ll leave this place and never come back, and they’ll never ever find you. You’ll leave and live and forget him, forget this cursed place and this cursed plane, and you’ll become something new. Something different and demonic and utterly unrecognisable.
It’s what you ought to do. He wouldn’t want you to be so… so sentimental.
The air freezes.
What’s happening? What’s happening? Déjà vu hits you hard and fast – your insides turn to ice as you reel, knocked backwards by the sudden weight of the memory.
Floating, falling, lighter-than-air. The balloon of your skull pops and you spiral into silence, unknown claws tearing at your middle and all your insides falling out. All the warmth is sucked out of the air in a second, your skin raw and tender as all the nerves there start to sing.
It’s that same thing you’d felt before, that crippling, burning absence that had told you something was wrong before. It’s exactly the same, every agonising ripple of loss that tears through your core – and before you can even realise what’s happening, you’re already running as fast as you can towards the house.
You’re definitely going too fast for anyone to think you’re human, but you really don’t care, leaving a trail of shouts and curses behind you as you push people out of the way. At one point, you’re fairly sure you phase right through a man who doesn’t get out of the way fast enough, and the almost-certain car crash that you leave behind as you dart across the road isn’t exactly the most subtle thing you’ve ever done, but there’s no time for that now.
The ward looms above you as you turn the corner, stretching up into the sky, and you tear aside the caution tape to hurl yourself against it with a bitter snarl, clawing and biting at the bouncy, stretchy surface until you can slice a gash big enough to let you through. It repels you at first, but you bare your fangs and push, jamming your body into the gap and squirming inside.
Briefly, you laugh to yourself – you’re doing it exactly as he taught you, but with none of his finesse or elegance. What would he say, if he could see you now? Something clever, you’re sure.
The ward tries to force you out, just like before, but you won’t be deterred. The Department’s warding is no match for the white-hot force of your desperate fury, slashing blindly at the thick layers of magic over and over again until they crumble away in front of you. Gradually, the blurriness of the barrier gets clearer and clearer, and although your core aches with the effort, you keep throwing yourself at it until it finally lets you through.
The scene that greets you, stumbling from the suffocating grip of the ward, is no less horrifying than it was before. Deltas everywhere, laden with guns and sprays and shock sticks, filling the street and advancing on the house. It’s like a nightmare, those terrifying dreams that humans have when they sleep – it feels like watching the end of the world. Unmarked vans full of faceless, heavily armoured soldiers are parked haphazardly across the road, a peaceful suburbia turned to a terrifying prison.
But hold on – why are they doing this? It doesn’t make any sense. Why would they be going back into the house, when you know they’ve alre—
Are you there, darling?
Blindsided, you stagger backwards as his voice echoes through your head. How is he…?
I can feel you, darling. You are there, aren’t you?
You must be going mad – what magic is this? It feels like him, exactly like him, as if he’d never been taken from you at all. How can this be happening?
Precious thing, you have to leave. Leave now, and you must not return. This place will never be safe for you again.
As the soldiers descend on your house, the same buildup of magic as last time fills the air, yet it barely registers in your frantic mind, smashed flat against the ward as the painful pressure swells and swells. Once again, you try to struggle against it, but it’s too strong. You can still see more humans throwing themselves at the house, even as others are engulfed in flame, or crushed by invisible force, or thrown screaming from the upstairs windows.
In the back of your mind, you realise that he’s saying it all again, the exact same way he had the first time.
I know it hurts, my sweet. I know. And I’m sorry.
The sound of gunfire, humans shouting, Your physical body starts to falter under the incredible force of magic pressing down on you, soft tissues disintegrating into nothing, and you watch in horror as your body starts to break down. Frantically, you flood your form with healing magic to try and reverse it, but it’s no good – the more magic you use, the less stable your body is, and the faster it erodes.
Is this how it ends? It would be poetic, you suppose. A second chance to live, and all you could do was die with him.
If only we’d had more time.
It’s getting harder and harder to think, crushed backwards against the unrelenting surface of the ward. As your body melts away, you smile with what’s left of your mouth, and close what’s left of your eyes.
Goodbye, my darling.
It’s not so bad. If you really concentrate, you can almost feel his arms around you once again.
I love you very, very m—
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It starts…
…well, you know.
Gasping for air, your eyes snap open as you sit bolt upright – the familiar sunlight sears your eyes, but the pain isn’t quite as bad as before. Air rushes back into your lungs, back inside your body and free of the suffocating force that only moments ago had held you, and even though you don’t technically need it, you’re pathetically grateful for the learned relief.
The pavement scrapes your palms as you push yourself to your feet. You’re here again, dumped back in the park just like last time, and as you look around – really, properly look around this time, you start to realise what’s going on.
It’s the same humans as before, the same breeze in the trees, the same clouds in the sky. It had been the same ward and the same soldiers, the same words in your head said in the exact same way. Déjà vu, on an unbelievable scale.
It’s a loop.
That’s what it’s called, right? A timeloop? Like the thing from that film you saw on the television, the one where the same day keeps happening over and over again, and they had to find a way to stop it. You’re stuck inside until you find a way to do some specific thing, and you’re supposed to keep repeating the day until you figure out the perfect way to do it.
(You’d asked Vega if these timeloops were real or not, some quirk of some branch of magic you’d never tried before, and he’d said they weren’t – just human flights of fancy. Oh, the irony.)
You can’t be certain that that’s what’s going on here, considering it’s only happened twice, whatever it is – wait, or is it three times? Should you be counting the number of resets, or the number of times the same things happen? Because they’re not the same, and if this is going to keep happening then you should probably make a decision on that sooner or later…
The air pressure plummets around you, earth swaying underneath your feet, and your mind is made up. Not about the stupid counting thing, that can wait – but about what all this means, what you’re going to do. For you, right now, the choice is clear.
You don’t know why this is happening, but you must have been put here for a reason. There must be something important you have to do, something that the universe can’t do without – something must be wrong, and you must have to fix it. Why else would this be happening to you, and why else would you, specifically, even know about it?
Nobody else seems to be clutching their head in timeloop-induced pain, nobody else seems to be crying and screaming about the existential horror of being forced to, perhaps indefinitely, repeat the same fifteen minutes of their life again and again. As far as you can tell with your limited knowledge, you’re the only one who knows.
There’s only one thing it could possibly be, one reason that you might be trapped here.
Vega.
You’ve got to save him. Whatever happens, wherever this leads, you’re going to get him out of there, no matter the cost. He’s too important to lose – to you, and seemingly to the rest of the universe as well.
Most likely, it’s something to do with his plan, his grand scheme to take back the Sovereigns for Aria. Could they be doing this? You can’t rule out the possibility. Who else would have the power to even try and pull off such an enormous magical feat? Time travel? You can’t even imagine how much magic it must be taking.
Then again, it’s not like it really matters who’s behind all of this. You’d do it no matter what. If there’s any chance that this could work, you have to take it. There can’t be a world without Vega – there just can’t be. It’s impossible. There’s just no way.
Goodbye, my darling.
You’ll fight for him, as hard as you can, for as long as it takes. He saved you, once before, and in doing so he gave you everything. You won’t fail him now.
The ground shakes again, and you start to run.
I love you very, very m—
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You keep running, and running, and running.
Loop after loop, you keep learning.
How many has it been, now? Fifty? Sixty? You’re starting to lose count. Every time, you try something new. You’ve given up on trying to maintain any semblance of humanity – something’s stopping you from rifting, but you abandon your disguise and let your demonic form take over, reaching the ward in about a minute and worming your way inside. After some experimenting, you’ve discovered that the weakest part of the ward is actually behind one of the houses on the opposite side of the street, so you’ve started aiming for there instead – it’s a little more difficult to get close to the action from there, but you’re iterating your way through finding a route.
You’ve tried to leave things behind, or leave yourself notes between loops so that you don’t accidentally forget anything, but nothing you do is ever permanent. Unfortunately, it all gets washed away at the moment you’re reset, so you can’t set things up in preparation for a future loop. It would be helpful if you could, but apparently it’s just not meant to be.
Right now, your focus is on trying to get into the house in time to help Vega escape. Something about the structure of this particular ward is designed to suppress magic use inside it, so you’re not as powerful as you should be, and it’s not possible to rift from inside the barrier either. You know you’ll have to get him out of the house and outside the barrier in time – but it’s not as easy as you’d hoped.
It feels like he’s set up a barrier of his own around the house that you’re not strong enough to break through on your own, and it’s blocking out almost all outside magic. That means you can’t talk to him and ask to be let in, or tell him about your plan, and it means you have to wait for the Department to break through before you’ve got a chance of actually entering the house.
You haven’t been able to figure out where in the house he’ll actually be, for when you do manage to get inside, but you suspect he’s in your bedroom, upstairs at the back of the house, overlooking the garden. It would make the most sense – even before all of this, it was one of the most heavily warded rooms in the house, and the physical distance between that room and the front door that they’re mainly attacking from gives him just that little bit more time to react before they reach him.
If he is there – and you’re fairly sure he is – then you can’t actually see him. It’s probably a good thing, because it means the Department won’t be able to see him either, but it makes your job a lot harder as well. You’ll have to figure out a way to sneak inside and convince him to come with you, then escape without being seen.
Goodbye, my darling.
If you could just get up to that room… but how?
I love you very, very m—
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It’s been days. Weeks, perhaps, or maybe months. You’re not sure.
Loops upon loops, the same neverending fifteen minutes. Four hundred, five hundred, six hundred – or is that six hundred thousand? It’s a good thing you don’t need to sleep.
You’ve managed to get a little closer, but it’s still not enough. You’ve tried to get in through the garden, through the back door, through the secret entrance to the basement Vega made that only you and he have ever known about. No matter what you do, you just can’t reach him in time – gunned down in the kitchen by the Department, burned alive as the hallway fills with fire, blown to bits when a grenade comes sailing over the fence and scatters you across what used to be your very neatly-kept lawn.
There’s just so many of them, filthy rats swarming through the street, flooding your house like the disgusting vermin they are. The stupid magic-dampening effect of the ward makes it almost impossible to cloak yourself for long enough, and there’s almost nowhere to hide once you get close enough to the house.
Electrocuted, clubbed, impaled, dismembered – and not enough magic to put yourself back together. You die every time, and you remember them all.
(You don’t know if the loop resets when you die, or when he dies – but with no way to record any proof for the next loop, there’s no way to tell. It doesn’t really matter that much, seeing as you – for obvious reasons – can’t do anything after you die, and whatever magic Vega does seems to wipe out everything inside the ward, including you and him at roughly the same time. So, in a very real sense, there’s no actual benefit to knowing. You’re just curious.)
Vega still says the same thing, no matter what you do, and you always hang on to his every word, no matter how much it hurts. It feels… comforting. Knowing that he’s so close, that you’re almost, almost there – a hopeful reminder that one day, this will all be over, and he’ll finally be yours again. He says goodbye as your broken body fizzles away into nothingness, and the agony of death is almost worth it to hear him again.
Goodbye, my darling.
It’s kind of ironic, isn’t it? Two immortals, cursed to hear each other die over and over again. There’s a joke in there, one that if you weren’t so tired, you could probably think of. You’d say something clever, and Vega would laugh. He’d give you that mischievous, knowing smile, and slip his hand around your middle, and lean down to kiss you even though you’d have to hide your demon fangs and tongues because there's humans watching.
Waking up doesn’t hurt any more, though. So, you know. That’s something, at least.
I love you very, very m—
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It feels like years. Centuries, even.
You feel old. The blinding, neverending sun, dust gathering in the tiny creases of your palm. Your body doesn’t age, but your mind feels ancient – you haven’t seen the night in what feels like a million years. Has your life been longer inside the loop, or out of it?
You don’t give in.
Iteration after iteration, you keep trying. At times, you can’t help but feel like you’ve tried everything – that every possible option has been exhausted, that there’s just no way. That you’ve searched everywhere, killed everyone, heard and seen and done it all, and yet still it’s not enough.
Everything is always exactly, exactly the same. It used to be comforting, but now it’s just infuriating.
You’ve wondered if the secret might be to stay outside the ward altogether – if maybe you going inside distracts Vega in some way that means he always dies, or if you should try to dismantle it from the outside in the hope that it would force the Department to retreat and regroup. But, alas, neither of those ideas work either, any of the hundred or so times that you try them, and all that happens is you end up right back at square one.
There have even been loops where you don’t try anything at all. Instead, you’ve tried to make sense of the loop itself, figuring out how it works and where its limits are. As far as you can tell, the loop is always reset at the point when Vega dies, expending all his magic to shatter the ward from within, killing anything and everything that’s inside. You don’t know what happens after the ward breaks – presumably all of that force escapes outwards, devastating the surrounding area and likely wiping half the town off the map.
The loop also seems to have a sort of physical boundary, one that you’re unable to cross by physical or magical means. It’s roughly circular, with the house at its centre, extending about three or four kilometres in all directions. You can travel freely within it, but you can’t leave and you can’t signal anyone or anything outside.
You can’t rift – you can’t even open a rift, let alone travel through it, which you privately suspect to mean that there’s someone or something very powerful running this whole thing. Like this, you’re entirely cut off from Aria, and far away from anyone who could help – even the Spellsong sounds weak and strange, on the edge of changing key. How could such a thing be possible – what could have the power to do that?
Throwing yourself against the wall, the same impossible wall, forever. Who do you have to thank? Who do you have to blame?
The memories are a little less clear than they used to be, but it doesn’t stop you from dreaming. Dreaming about the life you used to have, the slow, golden days from before it all began. Are those days still there? Will they ever come again? Or is this all that’s left, now – is this the most you’ll ever have?
He still says it, even now – even when you’re not inside the ward, his voice still finds you. He tells you to go, to save yourself. To leave him behind. He says goodbye, time and time again, and you never let it stick.
Even after all of this, every torturous decade that passes in the prison of your stolen time, you can still picture him exactly. Every detail of his face, his form, his smile. As if he were right there, right in front of you. As if this had never even happened at all.
Goodbye, my darling.
The tiny bubble of eternity, stretching out in all directions. Does he smile as he says it? Or does he cry, and you’ve just never known?
I love you very, very m—
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The park, again.
You’re fairly sure you have the first part nailed down. After an uncountable amount of tries, you’re certain this is the fastest way to reach the ward. You need to revert back to your demonic form, with its elongated proportions and affinity for speed, and brace yourself to phase through the humans and cars and buildings that stand between you and the weak point in the ward.
This time, you’re going to try mind manipulation again. If you can just get a few more of them under your control, and take out the one who shot you to death from across the street last time, you might be able to hold them back a tiny bit longer…
Your human disguise disappears in an instant – teeth splitting and sharpening into fangs, bloody horns piercing through your scalp as they bloom out of your skull, and the screams around you begin. Good. It means they get out of your way quicker.
Smiling to yourself in grim satisfaction, you turn to run. There won’t be any obstacles in your path until you get closer to the gate, so you can just—
It’s you.
…What?
No, no, no.
This can’t be right.
You’ve seen this all before, every single part of it, every moment in excruciating detail. A closed system, a circular world, repeating over and over again. Nothing ever changes, and nobody but you can remember it.
Something must have gone horribly, horribly wrong. Never in a million million tries, a million million loops – not once, not ever has this happened before.
There’s a voice in your head. You can’t move.
Of course it’s you, the voice marvels, and you can feel someone behind you. Someone magical. But how? There’s never been anyone magical here before. Ever.
Your nonexistent blood turns to ice at the sound of quiet footsteps, starting to circle slowly around you. Sharklike. Predatory.
I should have known.
Slowly, whoever-it-is steps into your field of view, and you frown as you try to figure out where you’ve seen him before. Because you have seen him before, haven’t you? Why does he seem so… so familiar?
He’s a demon, that much is clear – his tail sways slowly behind him as he walks, and long, pointed claws catch the afternoon sunlight as he flicks his hair out of his eyes. His horns aren’t as tall as Vega’s, but they seem to be well-maintained and shiny. For some reason, it takes a little more effort than it should to make your eyes focus on him, like the world goes a little bit hazy around his edges.
He reminds you a little bit of a Concubus, although you can’t quite put your finger on why. Maybe it’s something to do with the way he walks, effortlessly smooth and steady, or the way his presence seems to draw you in without even trying. He’s not especially tall or short, and his features conform to mostly-human proportions – his fingers aren’t so inhumanly long like Vega’s are, his fangs not nearly as sharp or numerous, and his eyes don’t have the black sclera that you’ve come to favour. There’s just something so irresistibly, fascinatingly beautiful about him that leaves you unable to look away.
(Somewhere, in the back of your mind, you remember Vega saying something about an incubus. Or did you read it in his file? Oh, come on, come on – what did he tell you? It’s right there, on the tip of your tongue…)
(Hm. It’s probably nothing, and you’re probably wrong, but you just can’t shake the feeling that there’s something you’re forgetting.)
It’s weird, though. He looks so much like a demon, but he doesn’t feel like one. There's emotion there, certainly, but which ones – and why can't you tell? Your aura fizzes and pops as it touches his, like it’s unsure what to make of him, and the air tastes like a strange kind of energy you feel like you should recognise. It soaks into the song of your being, the invisible space between the stars, like something primaeval and powerful – an ancient, inevitable force.
He catches your eye, and something splinters in your mind as he smiles. Involuntarily, your legs give way underneath you, and if his magic wasn’t still keeping you upright, you’d be in a graceless heap on the ground.
Maybe you were wrong. He’s no demon, no ordinary one at least. He’s something new, something strange and ethereal, reality bending around him like light around a black hole. A walking, talking law of the universe – wearing a demon’s crown, and looking so very, very familiar.
You’re not… His mind is uncomfortable to speak into, multicoloured static filling your head like an ache, but you struggle through it anyway. You’re not from here.
I suppose.
The not-demon raises one perfectly-manicured eyebrow, looking you up and down. But, to be fair, neither are you.
A twinge in your chest, a niggling, scraping feeling in the back of your brain. You’re hardwired for the adrenaline of the chase, for the mission you’ve been fixed on for so long – it’s unnatural, to still be here in the park for so long.
I have to go. He needs me.
Is that so? muses the not-demon, pretty lips twisting into a wicked smirk. Are you sure?
He opens his hand to reveal what looks like a pebble of some sort, perfectly round and black and smooth, before tipping his palm and letting it fall.
I think he can wait.
Shocked, you stare as the pebble doesn’t fall at all – instead, it just hangs immobile in the air, frozen at the very moment that it left his hand. There’s no telltale ripple of psychokinesis that you can feel, no illusion cast over your senses. It’s like time just… stopped.
Seeing your surprise, he sighs, and leans slightly to the right. Behind him, the rest of the world is frozen, too. Humans caught mid-step, mid-smile, mid-breath. Trees that blow in the unmoving breeze, clouds that hang suspended in the breathless, staring sky.
A creature who controls time. Is he the one who’s behind all this?
I – I don't understand.
Your voice is so small as you try to push down the fear, the instinctive sense of danger that flickers wildly in your core. Who are you? And how did – what do you mean? How do you know me?
He shrugs, strangely casual. I know everyone.
But – but…
I know everyone, and I know everything, he says evenly, unblinking as he walks slowly towards you. I know every word in the world, every note in the Spellsong, every drop of blood and blade of grass that there ever was or will be. Little demon, I know every thought you’ve ever had, every speck of stardust that ever formed you, and I know how every single moment of your entire existence will end.
Paralysed, all you can do is watch as he stops just in front of you, expression utterly impassive. What is this? What is he going to do to you?
So, I have a question for you.
He leans forward, closer and closer, until his face is right in front of yours. Staring up at him in terror, you want nothing more than to back away – but you can't, you can't, trapped in his inescapable web and entirely helpless.
He sighs, sadly.
Does it ever work?
…Hang on.
Well, you’re not sure what you were expecting him to say, but it certainly wasn't that.
The not-demon continues, inspecting every tiny facet of your confused face like he might find his answer written there. It's not that I don't think it's admirable. It is. But don't you ever get tired?
Does it… work?
He nods. Yes.
I don't… You're so, so lost by this whole conversation – what on earth is he talking about? I don't know what you – what do you mean, ‘it’?
Oh, don't lie to me.
He says it lightly, waving his hand like it's a joke, but there's something sharp and steely just under the surface. Call it ‘professional curiosity’, if it makes you feel better. I want to know, and I’m asking you nicely. Does it work?
His gaze has turned hungry, almost manic in its intensity – reflexively, your magic recoils from the tidal wave of power that surges inside him, towering over you like a tsunami, jaws open to swallow you whole.
Tell me, little demon, ‘cause I want to know. Is it worth it? Is it better?
This change in him – is it mania, or is it madness? The realisation blossoms in the back of your petrified mind, fault lines in the frozen surface of the sea. This – this creature, whatever he is, that feeling that you couldn’t quite explain.
Does it make you happy, hm? Holding on so tightly to your quest, forever. Tell me the truth, if that's what this is – because your ignorance doesn't look very blissful to me.
It wasn't just fury, and it wasn't just fear. Yes, yes, you can taste it now, sweet and tart on your paralysed tongue. It's heat and blood and savage need, it's sweet revenge and desperate, ravenous desire – this is a man driven out of his mind with passion.
You’re not scared, are you? Of a little question like that? the man spits, like sour acid splattered across your skull. No, I don’t think so. So answer it, and answer me – are you pleased with what you’ve done? Is this the eternity you always dreamed of?
You can't move, can't breathe, can't think. It's like staring into a black hole, this incredible force looming closer and closer. You have to run, why can't you run? Your mind stutters, buckling under this crashing, crushing weight of stress and terror and confusion.
I don't know what you mean, you sob, wanting nothing more than to rub your eyes as hot, scared tears finally spill over. What is this – who are you? I don't know, I don't know – I want – please, Vega, I – I just want – Vega, Vega, I need—
The not-demon says nothing, face utterly blank as he just watches you cry. It's embarrassing – you can't help the awful wailing that tears its way out of you, every fraction of your being screaming out for help. You want him to go away, why won't he just go away? You don't want to be here, you don't want to talk about it, you don't want to be alone – you want Vega, Vega, Vega!
Lovely Vega, wonderful Vega – he's so safe and kind and precious to you, and you need him so much. You don't want to be scared. He keeps you safe from being scared. He should be here, but he isn't, and it’s not right, it's not right! Why can't he just be here?
Nothing moves. You cry and cry and cry, and it's the only sound in the whole wide world.
So you don't know.
He closes his eyes for just a moment, before he reaches out to slowly take your hand in his. Of course. Of course you don't.
It's strange, but he doesn't feel warm or cold – it's like his skin is exactly the same temperature as yours. All you feel is the pressure as his fingers fold around yours, both hands enveloping your own, and sweet magic ripples across your face as your tears suddenly dry up all on their own, as if they were never even there.
I’m sorry.
Why does he look so… so sad? It's frightening.
I thought….I thought that maybe you could have been like me, he says quietly, his thumb stroking slowly back and forth over your knuckles. Apparently not. Although, maybe it's for the best.
He smiles mournfully, and tosses his head in a mock show of vanity. You can have too much of a good thing, you know.
There's a sudden sort of crumbling, crunching noise, like an eggshell cracking, and your whole body drops to the floor like a stone as the paralytic magic holding you up collapses. Caught unawares, you only just manage to avoid landing flat on your face – he's still holding one of your hands, and you barely manage to get the other one underneath you in time to save you from a very nasty nosebleed.
Careful, now.
He watches you scramble to your feet in amusement, before swiftly looping his arm with yours and guiding you the wrong way down the path – well, the wrong way to you, seeing as you always go in the opposite direction. Walk with me, won’t you?
It’s not exactly like you have a choice, but you nod anyway. Okay.
As you walk, time begins to move again, but much more slowly than it should. You pass a jogger, running in slow-motion in the opposite direction, and for some reason you get the tiniest, nagging feeling that something isn’t quite right about her.
Out of the corner of your eye, you notice the not-demon reaching out a curious hand towards the ground, and you watch as a dandelion growing by the side of the path is plucked from the earth and summoned to his fingers.
You’re confused. Was that psychokinesis? It looked like it, but it didn’t feel like it. If you had to be specific, you’d say it felt less like a physical manipulation and more like a psychological one, closer to telepathy or dreamwalking or something. But that can’t be right, can it? What kind of magic could he be doing, that seems one way but is actually another?
Regardless of your astonishment, he catches the dandelion out of the air and twirls the stem between his fingers, to the left, then the right, then the left again.
It’s a lovely world, isn’t it?
You nod warily, unsure what to make of all this. It seems best to just let him talk.
He holds the dandelion up to the sunlight, narrowing his eyes as he examines all of the little fluffy seeds, a soft white bubble atop the skinny, green stem, neatly sliced at the bottom from where he’d picked it.
I wonder…
Bringing it back down, he blows gently on the puff of seeds and watches as they come loose, fluttering in slow-motion through the air and leaving the bare stem behind. Some begin to fall to the ground much more quickly, while others are carried away by the wind, slow like air bubbles rising through thick honey.
So detailed, he murmurs, as he watches the seeds tumble away with the breeze. It’s remarkable.
Surprised, you turn your head to look at him. Detailed?
It's a strange word for him to choose – surely the world is just… like that? This is just how Elegy is, with all its rules and laws and creatures. What an unusual thing to say.
He doesn’t elaborate, but just keeps walking. You’re carried along by his arm in yours, a melancholy mockery of the way Vega used to walk with you, and you can’t help but close your eyes as the sense of loss swirls up inside you once again. So near, and yet so far.
I wish things had been different, you know.
At first, you’re not sure who said it. Then, you catch sight of his face, and realise he’s wearing exactly the same expression as you.
It’s not that I regret it, as such, he says wistfully, but I wish it hadn’t come to… this. To all of this.
His tail curls thoughtfully from side to side, just barely noticeable at the edge of your vision. When I noticed it, I thought that this might have been the answer I was looking for. A solution, at last. Or the model for one. A way that I could fix everything, for good.
Sunlight glitters off his fangs. All I wanted was what I used to have. What was taken from me.
There’s something hard and ruthless in his voice as he says it, form blurring ever so slightly at the edges. Not enough to really notice, but you feel the tremors of escaped emotion stirring in your own core as if they were your own.
Perhaps they are. You must not be as different as you’d first thought.
His words in your mind, full of longing, rhythmic like a prayer. I wanted it back – that life, that world, where nothing ever went wrong. I thought I would be willing to give it all up, if I could just have that world back.
Your shirt flutters in the slow breeze as you pass a woman walking a dog, holding the lead in one hand and her phone in the other. She shivers slightly as the two of you stroll past, and that irritating feeling of forgetting something tingles again in the back of your mind..
I wouldn’t want power. What would I need it for? the not-demon continues, a dreamy, faraway look in his eyes as he gestures mindlessly in front of him with his free hand. I’d give up everything. I’d let the universe spiral off in its own direction, let it tear itself apart the way it always seems to want, and I’d just keep that tiny little piece all for myself.
Idly, he reaches up and flicks his hair out of his face with a single, pointed claw. He seems distracted. You’d wager that he doesn’t even know he’s doing it.
I’d keep just enough to hide myself away, keep my little, perfect world protected, and I’d live forever in that little bubble of time where nothing could ever go wrong again.
He laughs humourlessly to himself, a quiet, grim little thing. Sorry. I think what I mean to say is… thank you.
Time stops.
You’re not just saying that – it really does stop again. Nothing moves except for you two, no sound except for your quiet footsteps on the path, slowing down.
Me? But I…
Something like dread crawls up your spine, slow and creeping. I haven’t done anything.
No, he replies calmly, you haven't. And I understand it now. Your little experiment – it hasn’t worked, which means I need to find another way.
Sorry, your what?
You must have heard him wrong. You must have. There’s no way he actually – there’s no way he means that.
I’m sorry, you manage to choke out. ‘Experiment’?
He takes a deep breath, but doesn’t say anything. In an instant, you’re seeing red.
You mean this whole time – time thing? The looping? you hiss, suddenly furious. It’s been nothing but an experiment?
He shrugs, suddenly cagey. In a manner of speaking.
How did you…? You don’t care who he is, or what he is, anymore – all you care about is tearing his stupid fucking head from his shoulders. This has all been a test? Hundreds of years of torture, losing your mind in the prison of this neverending spiral, and it’s never meant a thing?
What have you done to us? you scream, words turning to raging radio static as you hurl them into his head. What have you done?
What have I done? I’m hurt, little warden, he gasps, and that name, that name – right word, wrong voice, and it burns your skin like hot oil. For once, it’s not my fault.
Then whose is it? you snap, fingers twitching, simulated blood simmering with rage. Who do I have to blame?
Infuriatingly, he has the nerve – the nerve! – to just roll his eyes and keep walking. You won’t like it when I tell you…
You won’t like me if you don’t fucking say it, you spit, sharp claws digging into his skin as you try to struggle out of his grip on your arm – but he’s stronger than he looks, practically dragging you along by the elbow, and you can’t even draw blood. Who is it? Tell me!
Of course it’s got to be difficult, he mutters to himself, and your aura flares in fury at his exasperated tone – like you’re just a child throwing a temper tantrum. Why does it always have to be difficult?
He finally lets you go, and you skitter backwards away from him on pure instinct, your form swaying and changing constantly as magic rolls beneath your skin. Claws lengthening and shortening, blood freezing and melting, bones stretching and contracting. You can feel your magic surging, pressing against the bounds of your physical body, seething with your desperation to destroy.
You’re making a scene.
The man stands still, regarding you with what you can only describe as a miserable sort of rueful pity, and it makes you even angrier. Actually, I suppose that’s sort of the problem.
He knows you won’t respond, head too full of rage and mouth too full of fangs. I thought you would have realised, by now, but I guess not. Didn’t you think it was odd, how nobody noticed us?
The question takes you momentarily by surprise, before you realise what he’s talking about. Of course. You’re always in your demon’s body nowadays, so you quickly learnt to tune out the screaming. It hadn’t even occurred to you that nobody was panicking, at seeing two adult demons, horns and tails and all, walking through the park.
I thought it might be better if we weren’t disturbed, he says gently, hands raised slightly like he’s trying to soothe a cornered animal. I thought you might want to be alone when I told you.
Your laugh is a horrible, screeching thing, wild and frenzied as it forces its way free of you. Told me what? Told me that none of it was real – that this has all just been a game to you? That you’ve been playing with us for some sick amusement?
That’s not—
The air around you starts to shimmer as it heats up, grass just barely on the edge of catching alight. You say you know everything – you have no idea what it’s like! How many times I’ve died for this, for him – you don’t care! It doesn’t matter to you how much we’ve suffered, how hard I’ve tried, because it’s all just some fucking joke to you, isn’t it?
You think you can just take him from me? you spit, venom pooling in your mouth and dripping down your chin. He’s mine. And you could never understand what it’s like, to do what I’ve done – what I’ve had to do! Do you think it’s easy, to have him dangled just out of my reach, dying over and over again when I can’t save him?
The earth stands still and watches as you howl your grief at this monstrous, stone-faced stranger, utterly silent except for the ragged breaths you don’t even need.
The only creature in this world I could ever truly love, and he’s dead, you laugh, manic tears running down your face. He’s dead! He’s gone, isn’t he? He’s just gone, and I can’t follow him.
Shuddering with rage, you stalk forwards, thinking only of one thing. Is that what you wanted? Is this what you wanted to see? What it looks like to be cursed with false hope, forever? Your fucking experiment worked, then, because you will never, never know how it f—
I do know!
The man’s voice shreds through your body as he screams, a shockwave of sparking, glitchy static forcing you back several metres into the grass. Of course I fucking know!
Stunned, all you can do is reel as your mind is overwhelmed with emotion, washing over you like a tidal wave and knocking you flat on your back. Something like electricity courses through you, locking up every muscle, the stinging crack of a lightning bolt as it spears you to the ground, and it hurts, it hurts, it hurts—!
Is this how he truly feels? Is this what drove him mad? You gasp for air against a raging torrent of grief, white-hot and agonising, consuming every atom of your being in torturous fire – images flash by, too fast to see, leaving only the impression of a handful of flowers and a lonely, sunlit grave.
It feels like your mind is too big for your skull, excruciating pressure as it fills with voices, vying against the Spellsong for control of your form – you feel as though even your demonic nature, that most base of things that creates you, begins to falter under the hellish weight. It’s morphing, changing, all the magic in your body burning up as it turns from the bubbling, aching lust that formed you into something else, into this starving, sobbing desire that roars into the empty sky.
You are made again, full of fury and love and sorrow. You are your mission, single-minded in your quest, a ravenous force and a never-ending power, seeking only to regain a world that is no more. This universe is yours, turned inside out at your will, and… and…
…hang on. This isn’t right.
Blearily, you try to force yourself back into your own brain, struggling to form the thoughts that you know should be there. There’s a lie – a false memory, that you should have seen coming from a mile away. That’s not how you came to be, that’s not the right story. You weren’t formed from lust. You’re an Inchoate, not a—
Concubus, you breathe, and the illusion shatters.
It takes a little while to come back to yourself.
When you do, you’re still lying there in the grass. Your tail is digging uncomfortably into your back where you’re lying on it, and your gums ache from your fangs constantly lengthening and retracting, but you’re still you.
There’s the soft sound of footsteps, and a hand appears in your vision. Grudgingly, you take it, and the man pulls you to your feet.
Sorry about that, he says sheepishly, the tip of his tail curling from side to side in faint embarrassment. I, um… well. You know. Sorry.
Time seems to still be frozen – no feeling of the breeze in your hair, or sound of the leaves in the trees rustling faintly. The sun is high in the sky behind you, and you wonder how you ever missed that he casts no shadow.
It’s you, isn’t it? you marvel, as the pieces fall into place. The incubus he told me about, the one who brought him to the Department in the first place. That was you.
It’s strange. You don’t have nearly enough evidence to prove it – it’s not like he’s the only incubus in the world, and Vega never showed you what he looked like, or even told you his name. He only ever mentioned him once or twice, back before you escaped. But for some reason, it just feels right, something instinctive deep down inside, telling you that it’s the truth.
He nods, wry smile playing across his face. I think his exact words were ‘you human-loving pathetic little upstart worm’ at the time, but yes, ‘incubus’ will do. That was me, a very long time ago.
Did you know, back then? you ask, curious. That he would come to me?
Not at the time, no, he replies. But, well – you know what they say. Everything happens for a reason.
You gesture vaguely with one hand at the lazy world around you. Even this?
Even this.
He ducks his head, looking strangely remorseful. And I meant what I said: I am sorry that I have to tell you. But you deserve to know, and it wouldn’t be right to keep it from you.
You’re about to protest, but he shushes you first. I know. I’ll explain everything, I swear. All you have to do is close your eyes.
Warily, you look around, but nothing has changed. Yet.
What are you going to do?
I won’t touch you, if that’s what you’re worried about, he says. Close your eyes, and just listen to me. Listen to my voice.
Hesitantly, you do as he asks. You can still vaguely sense your surroundings as your aura gently reflects off of them, feeling the grass beneath your feet and the leaves of the trees above you, and you can feel that the incubus hasn’t moved at all.
(Is he still an incubus, after everything you saw? Probably not. But he still hasn’t given you his name, so it’s the best you can do.)
I don’t want you to think, he says solemnly, I just want you to answer me honestly. Alright? However feels right – the first answer that pops into your head.
Okay.
Good. Where are we?
You nearly open your eyes out of reflex, caught off guard by the bizarre question. …What?
Nope, it wasn’t a joke – he sounds serious. I mean it. Where are we? Where is this place?
It’s – it’s the park. Near my house.
The incubus clicks his tongue in understanding, like he hadn’t known. The park, right. And your house! That’s very good. But where is your house, exactly?
Well, it’s close to the park, you reply, still confused. Shouldn’t he know that too? It’s only about ten minutes’ walk from here, back the way we came.
Ten minutes… I see. You can’t see it, but you’re fairly sure you can hear the minute sound of him nodding his head – the tiniest friction of skin and hair and fabric, and you strain your ears to try and focus on it. But if I want to go there and visit you, I’ll need more than that. Remind me what street your house is on?
Uh… I mean, it’s definitely nearby… It’s just on the tip of your tongue – fuck, what street do you live on? You know how to get there, but the name… If you turn right, then left, then keep walking, it’s sort of straight ahead.
Right and then left? Ah, I know the one, he muses, before his voice turns all puzzled. He sounds sad, and that feels… wrong, somehow. You don’t want him to be sad. But there are lots of houses on that street, aren’t there? And I wouldn’t want to get the wrong one. So what number is your house, then?
Oh, it’s number… You go to say it, but the answer isn’t there. Lost in thought, you snap your fingers like it’ll help you remember – because you do remember, obviously. It’s your house! Of course you know which number it is!
It’s, um…
There’s an uncomfortable pause, as he watches you try to rack your brain for the right number, and you start to get more and more embarrassed the longer it goes on. Come on, come on, why can’t you think of it?
Eventually the incubus just gives up. You know what, it doesn’t matter, he murmurs reassuringly. That was kind of a difficult question. Shall we do some easier ones?
Relieved, you hastily agree. Yes, please.
Alright. Alright, we’ll do that.
He thinks for a second, before humming quietly in satisfaction. You know what, why don’t we talk about Vega for a little bit, hm? That sounds good. You like Vega, don’t you?
Mmm, Vega. You smile dreamily at the name, letting the incubus’s low, calming voice wash over you. Yeah.
Yeah? Mm, I know, he laughs, not unkindly. And I can see why. He’s so handsome, isn’t he?
Mm-hmm. Vega…
Without even having to try, the thoughts fill your mind – the image of Vega’s form here on Elegy, and the warm feeling of being bathed in his astral aura. He looks…
Even after all this time, you can picture him as clearly as if he were right here in front of you. The gentle curve of his horns, long hair pulled up high, falling messily past his face and down his back. Tall and lithe, elegant fingers tipped with savage claws, the sly curve of his tail as it sways lazily back and forth. In your head, sweet blood drips from his fangs, gore smeared indulgently across his face and down his neck, running down over his chest, a slick, shiny trail that leads lower, and lower, and lower…
Dark eyes and a darker smile, ever knowing – ever hungry. Vega’s is a cruel sort of beauty, and no matter how long his absence, it never fails to captivate you.
He’s so pretty, you mumble, only barely aware of the words. He looks so nice.
Oh, I’m sure he does, replies the incubus, and you can hear the indulgent grin in his voice matching your own. And he’s so clever, too! Don’t you think he’s clever?
You nod, because it’s true. Very clever.
Clever and beautiful… I see, I see.
The incubus gasps theatrically, like he’s surprised himself, and you find yourself hanging onto every little sound. Ooh, but he’s got big plans, hasn’t he? Lots of ambition! And I do like that, in a man.
You can’t help but laugh delightedly at the way his voice dips all low and flirty when he says it, like a special secret from a best friend. But he’s not all work and no play, is he? That would be pretty boring. I bet he knows how to unwind, when he wants to. Is that right?
Absentmindedly, your hand drifts up to your neck, fingers pressing gently over the tender shape of Lyra that you know is there. It stings slightly, fresh as it is, the deep bite of his namesake star sitting just where your pulse ought to be.
Yeah, you breathe, only slightly embarrassed. Yeah, he does.
Obviously you can't see it, but you can practically taste the wicked smirk that spreads across the incubus’s face at your admission. Mmm, I thought so.
He starts to move, circling slowly around to your left, the quiet echo of his footsteps on the concrete floor. He even found the time to get married, didn’t he? That’s pretty impressive. And he found himself a real catch, too – you know, I heard the wedding was something very, very special indeed.
Your wedding ring suddenly feels like it weighs a ton as he mentions it, enormously conscious of the weight on your finger that you’d almost forgotten was there. So sorry I couldn’t come, by the way. But is that true? Did you have fun?
Oh, your wedding day… Hadn’t it been so wonderful? Flowers and ribbons and confetti everywhere, like a great big birthday party, and all those floaty, happy feelings you got to gobble up from all the people watching you. Vega’s lovely words to you – the special promises you made, to be together forever and ever. And the music! That big piano thing that the lady played for you, so loud and sweet-sounding, the whole song of your being singing along.
Even after you and Vega had left the ceremony, you’d still had fun. He’d carried you in his arms back into the room you’d passed through earlier, the one with all the balloons and chairs and decorations, and shown you the cake he found – it was the tallest cake you’ve ever seen! It had so many layers, and it had lots of flowers made of pink sugar stuck to the sides. There were two little figures made of sweet-smelling stuff on top of the cake as well, that were shaped a bit like humans, but you hadn’t really been paying attention to them.
You’d really really wanted to try some, but you hadn’t seen any sort of spoon to eat it with, or a knife to cut it with. And perhaps you could have made one with magic, but you couldn’t really be bothered – so instead, you’d reached out and excitedly clawed a handful of sweet cake out from the front, scooping it up into your mouth and enjoying the rich, buttery redness that had been hiding inside.
Vega had refused at first, but he’d relented when you’d taken a second helping and offered it to him, neatly taking a bite out of the red and white chunk of cake and icing sitting in your palm. He hadn’t wanted any more after that, though, so you’d helped yourself to the rest, burying your face in your palm until half your face was smeared with all of that sticky, gooey goodness.
Oh, it had been so delicious! You’d been tempted to take the whole thing home with you, but that would have been quite greedy – and you did already have plans for dinner, so you’d just settled for taking one more handful, as well as some of the sweet flowers from the sides of the cake as a snack.
Red velvet flavour, Vega had said after you’d got home, sugar flower dissolving on his tongue, peering at the list of cake flavours he’d found on the computer screen. How…. unpleasant. Why would humans even want to eat that?
You’d been so confused. Is velvet the shiny one? I thought they made music out of that.
No, I think that’s ‘vinyl’, dear, Vega had replied, although he’d looked a bit unsure. It’s the one that’s mostly smooth, but a little bit fluffy. Like a sort of fabric, I believe. Did you think it tasted like that, darling?
You’d shrugged, too preoccupied with licking the sugary, cakey mess of crumbs and icing from underneath your claws, making sure not to get any of the red stuff all over your nice white clothes. Whatever it is, it’s nice. We should find some more.
Lost in the lovely memory, you startle as the incubus quietly clears his throat, the sound echoing off the walls and bouncing around the room – shit, you were meant to be answering a question, weren’t you?
Lots of fun, yeah, you say happily, rocking softly from foot to foot in content. He’s so good to me.
Yeah? Oh, I bet he is, laughs the incubus, slowly coming around to your other side from behind you. Real husband material – you want to hang onto that one, for sure. And I bet he took you on a hell of a honeymoon, didn’t he?
You start to reply, but then you realise you don’t know what to say. Did you have a honeymoon? You must have done…
The air is cold and still, and you can hear every near-silent swish of the incubus’s tail as he walks, the tiny sounds of the building settling around you. No? Hm. That’s funny. I could have sworn you two went on holiday somewhere… And pretty recently, too. Don’t you remember?
Holiday, a holiday… why does that sound familiar? Did you go somewhere special with him lately? Did he take you anywhere unusual…?
It would have been pretty late at night, wouldn’t it? the incubus continues, thoughtful, and you let his voice lead you back into the maze of your memory. Yeah, that’s right. It would have been dark outside, and he’d have led you inside, wouldn’t he? Maybe by holding your hand? Or asking you to follow behind him?
Now that he mentions it, that sounds… yes! Yes, you remember! Walking side by side with him in the dark, streetlamps overhead as you’d got closer and closer to the building – oh, and how he’d said to stay close to him…
You remember going inside, don’t you? You’d just gone inside, and you were looking for the stairs. Do you remember the stairs?
He’s right, you had been looking for the stairs. How could you have forgotten? You’d been trying to find a way to get downstairs, to see what was going on. You’d been curious. Why had you been curious?
But you didn’t find the stairs. You saw someone instead, didn’t you?
Someone unexpected, someone who shouldn’t have been there…
A strange man, someone you didn’t recognise.
He’d been so odd. Saturated with magic, but no sound at all – singing with no voice, a terrifying emptiness where something ought to be.
The incubus speaks again, low and gentle. And he was scary, wasn’t he? You were so, so scared. Because it was frightening, there in the dark, talking to that strange, scary man.
Yes… you murmur, shivering in the chill of the empty room. Yes, I remember…
But it was okay, wasn’t it? he asks, and there’s something indescribable in his voice that you can’t quite name. You got away. You held Vega’s hand, and you turned and ran, as fast and as far as you could. You ran all the way outside into the night, and you kept running until you could run no more, and then you rifted away.
You start to agree, but there’s a strange sort of friction in your mind when you do. Is that not what happened? Why does it feel wrong?
No, you manage to force out, but the words are slow and painful as your eyes fill with tears. No, I didn’t hold Vega’s hand.
The incubus nudges your aura gently with his own, a silent question. You bite your lip to stop it trembling so much, and let him take you in his arms as you start to shudder uncontrollably.
Why not? he whispers sadly, and this time, you know he already knows the answer.
Streetlights flickering outside. I couldn’t.
Why?
Cold concrete under your feet. There was nothing to hold.
Why?
Because he wasn’t there, you wail, and the corridor is filled with the airless song of your grief. He was already dead.
Silently, the hazy spell of the incubus’s voice falls away, and you open your eyes. Not to the trees and sky and earth of the park that’s near your house, but to the grim, dark grave that is the CloseKnit headquarters, and the moment that the world itself ceased to be.
You’re back.
The incubus holds you softly as your body convulses with awful, aching sobs, lowering you gently to the ground when your legs start to give way and you can’t hold yourself up any more. I’m so sorry, he murmurs into your mind as he kneels with you, rocking you back and forth as you cry uncontrollably into his shoulder. I’m so sorry, little warden.
It’s torturous, how the memories come back all at once, as if they had never gone away. The sheer, absolute panic of that moment, of seeing the empty space where Vega had been only a fraction of a second before. How you’d felt something give way deep inside you, some buried well of power so immense and vital that to even think of it was to fall apart – all you remember was a sharp flash of light, brilliant and blinding, and the sudden feeling of falling.
A sickening crack, your body and your mind splitting open as magic poured from your being, rending the very sky and the entire universe that hid behind it. Nothing had been real, nothing had mattered – only you, only the murderous, vengeful fear that filled you, the agony of your terror and the fury of your fear.
How? you weep through tears, not trusting your voice to come out as anything but a screech. How could I forget? I thought – I really, really thought he – that it…
That it was real?
He quietly shushes you as you start to keen, pressing his face to your hair. I know. I know you did. And it’s not your fault. It did exactly what you designed it to do.
You couldn’t bear it – couldn’t bear to believe that it could even be real. That such a world, such a cruel and awful world, could ever come to pass. It didn’t make sense. It couldn’t be allowed.
Your body spasms and twitches uncontrollably as you cry, all messy and wet. Just another thing that’s out of your control.
You couldn’t believe that he could be taken from you, the incubus whispers, words full of the terror you can’t say. It was impossible, surely? For him to just… disappear? For everything he ever was or ever would be to have vanished in an instant, leaving you behind?
It had all been so fast. Trembling behind him, peeking out over his shoulder at the horrifying, empty shape of that – that creature, that thing. One second he was there, and the next…
Dissolving into the air, returning to the Spellsong as if he had never existed at all – the ring on your finger that suddenly had no pair. You hadn’t even seen his face.
Poor, sweet little warden. The real world was too horrifying, so you dreamed a new one for yourself instead. You needed comfort, you needed to be safe – so your mind took you to the one place in the world where that could be true.
But you couldn’t quite forget, could you?, the incubus muses, sounding strangely proud. Or perhaps… fond, in a bizarre sort of way. You had to make sense of it somehow. You had to explain to yourself why he wasn’t there, and why he never said goodbye. So you dreamed that too – a Vega who was still alive, but always out of reach, and whose last words were that he loved you more than anything.
Held tight in the incubus’s arms, your form trembles erratically, magic desperately melting and setting over and over again to try and keep up with the emotions that flood through it – even the air temperature starts to change, heating up and cooling down with every wave of grief.
Your hair grows long and limp, hanging miserably to the floor to hide your face, before suddenly getting shorter again with every spike of rageful sorrow that flares in your heart. Layers of fat and muscle writhe like snakes under your skin as it flickers between colours, freckles splattering themselves across your back before they fade just as quickly, and your whole face aches as everything moves – your eyeballs changing shape in their sockets, your cheeks splitting as your mouth widens, then sewing themselves back together when it narrows again.
Out of the frying pan and into the fire, again and again forever, just to hear those precious few seconds of his voice again. To hear the words he never got the chance to say.
What do you look like now? Would Vega even recognise you at all? Acid tears burning trails down your face, searing tiny divots in the concrete when they fall. Try as you might, you can’t make your body stay still.
The incubus shakes his head sadly. You just couldn’t let him go. You couldn’t accept that there might ever come a time where you and he would have to be parted, so you clung to whatever pieces of him you could, whatever hope you could find.
His voice comes to you as if underwater, muffled and dim, and you feel as though you truly are lost in the darkness of the sea. A creature of the deep, sunken to the seafloor, tiny fish picking at the soft tissue until there’s nothing left but bones. Soon all you’ll be is sand, nothing but grit and stones rolling in the current, floating adrift and never to be put back together again.
The ultimate escape, your very own one-more-chance – if the only way out is to do the impossible, then you never have to leave. What else is grief, but love that doesn’t realise it’s already dead?
He smiles blackly, and you feel the still-tender bite marks on your neck start to burn. The most perfect prison, for the warden of demonkind’s worst. You really do never fail to impress.
A car that doesn’t go, and a cake you didn’t make. It’s all gone now, and you’re the only thing that’s left – an impossible spectre, risen sobbing from the grave. Buried under the weight of the life you thought you’d have, crushed under the rubble of a peony and a picket fence.
You don’t know how long you spend there, a puddle of limbs splayed across the concrete, crying your endless eyes dry. Perhaps it’s a day, or a year, or a century. Perhaps you’re there forever, never leaving, never stopping even for a moment. It’s impossible to know.
What do I do?
Brokenly, you nudge the words into the incubus’s mind, begging that he’ll have an answer. I don’t – I can’t, I don’t know how…
The words don’t come, but the incubus seems to know exactly what you wanted to be able to say. You don’t know what comes next, he says softly, and perhaps you don’t even know if there is a next. What could possibly come after this? The world has already ended. All you know is grief, and you can’t imagine a time when that grief is not your entire mind.
Creatures of emotion, and the magic that follows it. The great curse of demonkind, that we must become our love.
You feel sick. There’s nothing left. He’s gone.
The incubus pauses for a second, before sitting back slightly and tilting your head up so you can see his face. Gone, you say?
Where else could he be? you mutter, with a voice like smashed glass. He’s nothing, now. I can’t feel him, not at all.
He shrugs, face carefully blank. I guess.
Your sore eyes narrow. What’s that supposed to mean?
You’d do anything, wouldn’t you? Whatever it takes, whatever has to happen, for you to see him again.
He lets out a deep breath, a faraway look in his eyes. You don’t care what it is. You don’t care what it’ll cost. Reality means nothing, if it keeps you from him – you’d tear the world apart to find him again. In fact, you already have. He’s the only thing that could ever matter any more, and he’s the only thing that could ever satisfy the awful emptiness inside.
The half-smile on your face probably looks more like a grimace. How did you know?
Didn’t I tell you before? I know everything.
He laughs, but there’s no humour in it. You and I aren’t as different as you thought, little warden.
Does it change anything? you scowl, pathetically trying to cover your pain with frustration. No matter what I say, he’s no less dead.
Yes, well… His gaze flicks to the right, sliding sideways off of yours. About that.
He sighs.
I have a… a theory, I suppose. Untested. I can’t say it’ll work for sure.
A theory? you repeat, suspicious. What theory?
Look, he admits, it’s something of a work in progress. I think it does what it’s supposed to, but I haven’t had the chance to try it out yet.
What does it do?
The incubus clicks his tongue, claws drumming quietly against your arm.
I’m looking for someone. Someone I lost, a little bit like you.
He blinks, suddenly thoughtful. Actually, a lot like you, now that I think about it. Hm. In any case, I want to bring them back – and I think I know how.
You stare up at him, perplexed. If you know how, then why wait?
There’s… well, there’s a lot that could go wrong, he replies gingerly. Messing with reality is a tricky business, little warden. If I’m not careful, it could do all sorts of… unpleasant things. Things that I can’t allow to happen.
There's an unspoken question there, and you have a horrible feeling that you know what it is. That you know what this has all been leading up to.
You want to try it out on me, you say. On us.
If you wouldn’t mind…
He says it so casually, picking lazily at his claws like he’s talking about the weather. Not to be rude or anything, but when we’re talking about magical experiments that might permanently delete us from every dimension of the universe, I do have some suggestions as to which of us should go first.
Ah. There it is. That’s why he’s hesitating.
Is this really what you want to do?
If this goes wrong – and for all you know, it will go wrong – you might end up completely destroyed. Past, present, and future. You’d be removed from time entirely, and the world would simply go on as if you’d never existed. You’d never have coalesced, never have gone to Elegy, never have met Vega at all. A new universe, one less star in the sky.
Would that be better? Would you even know you’d disappeared? Would anyone really miss you, if you had never existed in the first place?
For a rational mind, it’s dangerous – too dangerous. But what’s the alternative?
If you say no, what comes next? You’ll have to pick up the pieces, and learn to live with everything that’s happened. Knowing what you know now, you’ll have to find a way to live without him. You’ll have to make your own way, on the run from the Department – will you take up Vega’s mission in his stead, to fight for the survival of your species? Or will you crack under the pressure, faltering and failing alone, abandoning the fate of demonkind to someone else?
A world without Vega. You can’t even imagine it.
By all logic, you should say no. You should – but this chance! How could you live with yourself, if you threw away your only hope at bringing him back? What could possibly be left for you, in this new, terrible world, that you wouldn’t trade for the chance to see him again?
You’ve already lost everything. There’s nothing left to risk.
I think…
The incubus raises an eyebrow, pointed tip of his tail brushing his hair out of his pretty face, and your broken heart aches.
I think you already know what I’m going to say.
He smiles, wide and only a little sinister. I can see why Vega likes you.
In the back of your mind, you can very nearly hear some sort of dull, droning noise – a low, glitchy buzz like electricity. Your skin starts to itch, and you can feel some of your hair start to float as it goes all staticky.
The demonic mind is a funny thing, the incubus continues solemnly. If you had the choice, would you want to remember this? Or would you rather not know?
I don’t want to forget.
The answer is obvious – you don’t even have to think about it. I don’t regret it. Any of it. I don’t regret fighting for him like that, and I don’t regret who I’ve become. And if the chance ever comes for revenge…
The incubus nods, and you can feel his satisfaction mirroring your own. You want to know why you’re doing it.
Of course.
And all it cost…
He trails off, lost in thought, and you have the strangest sort of helium feeling in your head, your body growing almost imperceptibly lighter. You really do love him.
Light sparkling off the diamond on your finger, shattering into streaks of bright red and electric blue. I do.
Then remember him, little warden, the incubus murmurs, as everything begins to flicker and fade, colour leaking out of the world around you to leave only black and white and grey. Remember him, and let me do the rest.
He closes his eyes, and the humming, buzzing sound in your head gets louder. It clicks and cracks like the radio, a familiar sort of whirring sound underneath it, like the soft friction of something spinning. A record, perhaps? Or is it something else?
As the noise thrums through your body, you fix Vega’s image in your head as hard as you can, filling your mind with thoughts of him and the world you want to wake up to. His voice, his face, the feeling of his form curved around you as he holds you close to him. The song of his being, sweet and swirling, harmonising with yours.
Bloody fingerprints on the fridge door, claw marks gouged into the arm of the sofa. Wisteria growing up the trellis, stacks and stacks of spare hairbands in the bathroom cabinet. The shape of Lyra brands itself into your mind, the dim light of a fading constellation – and the radiance of your own namesake star cries out in return, reaching into the chattering sky like a lighthouse staring out to sea.
The static feels like a storm, strange winds blowing you from side to side as the noises grow. It’s getting more and more difficult to see, but you feel it as the incubus lets go of you, standing up and starting to walk away. Something about it sends an instinctual pang of fear through your body, and you hurriedly call after him.
Wait!
The figure in front of you turns, features beginning to blur until you can barely picture his face in your head – even though he’s right in front of you, you find yourself struggling to remember what he looks like.
Is this the end? you shout, desperate in a way you don’t really understand. Will I ever see you again?
He laughs, summer light and sunshine easy, and it sounds like a farewell. Who’s to say? he calls back to you, and you notice that he’s unmoved by the wind that beats furiously against your body. Perhaps, if this works, we’ll meet again someday. In a world where both of us can get what we want.
The gaps between your thoughts are getting longer, splintering and stretching, dissipating out into the universe like stardust. Reality twisting beneath you, swallowing you up, ever expanding and entirely unknowable. You can feel it, just barely – time turning back on itself, things and places and people not the way they were before. A new world. A new reality.
As your body crumbles into electric dust, you can feel that you’re almost gone. Your voice has nearly vanished, a blocky jumble of noise that tumbles away in the storm, but you know he hears you all the same.
I look forward to it already.
As your mind begins to dissolve into static, through the sandy, glitchy storm you can just about make out the shape of the mysterious incubus, silhouetted against the collapsing universe, and blowing you a kiss with the tip of his tail. Then I’ll be seeing you soon, little warden.
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And don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.
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Recipe for undying love (REVISED):
Add dread, rage, and sorrow to a bowl, and mix until a smooth dough forms. Chill in the fridge for at least one hour, then roll out it on a flat surface until thin and use it to line a loose-bottomed tin.
“I… I think I did the wrong thing.”
Line case with baking parchment and cover with baking beans. Bake at 200°C for 20 minutes or until crisp, then leave to cool completely on a wire rack.
“I can’t make a mistake… but I made one.”
Mix together denial and agony in a large bowl, then slowly add faithfulness. Stir continuously until fully incorporated. If mixture splits, add a small amount of vengeance and continue stirring.
“His magic is still there. At least part of it. Maybe enough.”
Separately, add misery, regret, and a pinch of self-loathing to the bowl of a stand mixer, and beat until soft peaks form. Fold in beaten ingredients to original bowl, then transfer to case.
“I have to go back.”
Dust generously with terror, and refrigerate for at least four hours, or overnight, until fully set.
“Doc.”
Remove from fridge approximately fifteen minutes before serving. Best served chilled with double cream, caramel, or chocolate sauce.
“Will you come with me?”
You knew the risks. Can be kept in an airtight container for as many cycles of your self-inflicted timeloop as you can stand, or until the reality you came from is manipulated enough to force your husband’s killer into bringing him back from the dead.
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this is an original fanwork by @gingerbreadmonsters - please do not repost or misattribute.
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Premier Amour
Terzo x Fem!Reader
TW: smut, running away, murder, blood, pregnancy
Word Count: 18.4k
Medieval Terzo is finally here!!!! I've been working on this for.... A month now? I've lost track, but I'm stoked to share it with you.
I'm not a historian and also it's just like a fantasy AU so I'm sorry if there's historical inaccuracies, especially around religion, marriage, ceremonies, language, geography, the feudal system, whatevs. I'm no William Shakespeare 😂 just let me have my cliche romance in peace. But if there's anything I can improve, please let me know, I love to learn things ❤️
This is the Terzo I picture for most of the story. And this is one of my Cavaliere Terzo inspo arts!
"What a beautiful pendant," you admire the metal work that the local silver smith has on display in the little bazaar in the middle of town.
"Ah, yes, that's one of my favorites. Beautiful emerald, innit?" the merchant engages with you.
"Sì, it would look bellissima on la signora," a stranger interrupts. You turn to see him, just taller than you, dressed in a black linen cloak, removing the hood from his ear length raven black hair. He looks quite pale to be from Italy, but his accent is too accurate for him not to be. His bare face, clean of facial hair indicates that he might only be a little older than you; his dimples on his cheeks and chin are strong, and he look quite handsome. And his heavy black brows give him a natural scowl over his… mismatched eyes?
Your eyes lock with his, "Yes," you practically whisper, "thank you, sir."
He closes the space between you, his rugged riding boots scraping across the gravel beneath his feet. The mysterious man holds out his hand, and you offer him yours without a second thought. Something about him is so alluring. His eyes flutter closed as he presses his lips to your knuckles, and when they open again, there's something fiery in his gaze. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance, bella mia."
And just like that, he's gone, off into the crowd like nothing happened. You exchange a look with the shop owner, both equally shocked by the encounter. After that, you decide maybe it's time to head back home for the day.
You quickly stop by the local baker's tent to grab a few pastries and fruits for the journey back, but as you walk on the outskirts of the bazaar towards the trail you always take, an arm slips itself under yours, hand gripping tightly against your sensitive skin. Whimpering, you try to pull away from whoever is, when you hear that Italian accent ringing in your ear again, "Don't scream. Act normally if you want to live." His other hand slides around your waist and leads you off the trail and into the trees, deep into the thick of the woods.
"What do you want from me?" You finally question him once out of earshot of the marketplace, fire and frustration building in your belly. Jerking your arm away from him only for his grip to return a second later, he turns you, pinning your back against a tree, making you drop your fabric wrapped goods. "Hey!" you yell at him.
"𝘏𝘶𝘴𝘩!" he commands of you.
"Why should I?!" You attempt to garner anyone's attention.
You hear the unmistakable sound of metal being unsheathed before feeling the cold blade against your throat. It got you to shut up, eyes wide with horror. "You're not who you pretend to be, dolce mia."
"W-what do you mean?" you mutter, his face only inches from yours.
"You traipse around like some common little girl from town, but I see the way you hold yourself: proud, but taught to be like a delicate flower. Exactly the way they want you to be to find a suitor."
"On what grounds do you make these assumptions?" His remark had hit you right where it hurt, as if he could read you like a book, and you were angry again.
"The silk petticoat peaking from under your skirt… Commoners can't afford silk."
You couldn't believe he would talk about your undergarments with such a smug look on his face. "It was a gift! My family saved up for quite some time for it!"
He lowers his eyes to your chest, lewdly raising his eyebrows as his finger traces down the center of your cleavage, hooking on the outer layer of your dress and pulling outward just an inch or two. "Did they save up for the matching corset, too, bella mia?"
You stare at him in shock, wanting to strike him down, but also feeling an unfamiliar kind of heat coiling up inside you. Attempting to push him away with your free hand, he snatches your wrist, hiking it above your head and pinning it to the tree, the knife still pressed against your neck.
"If you're going to try to dress like a commoner, I would suggest making certain your disguise is more… thorough," he says pointedly. "So, who are you then? The daughter of… Hmm, a lord? High up land owner?" He inquisitively watches your body language, knowing you won't admit to anything. "Is daddy a lawyer? No? An ambassador? Politician?"
Nothing from you, only persed lips and furrowed brows.
"Ahhh, dare I say it? I must have some lady of the high court under my steel blade." His joke isn't funny to you, so you just keep staring him down, "Perhaps a handmaiden? No… She wouldn't want to escape. But who would? Someone who's never known anything different than the silver spoon…" It's like he's playing with his dinner before devouring it. "You must be la principessa."
You cut your eyes away from him, and he knows he's got you.
"There she is, la principessa, just wanting a taste of the world around her," he teases you.
"What do you want from me?" You cut your eyes back at him.
"Just one thing," he moves impossibly closer to you. "A kiss… da quella tua dolce bocca." (A kiss… From that sweet mouth of yours.)
His eyes glance down at his prize, and you know there's no stopping him. At first contact, his plump lips are surprisingly soft against yours. He moves slowly, giving you several pecks, not unlike the ones you'd experienced while being chaperoned around with your suitors.
That's when he presses his chin to yours, and your mouths drop open together. You feel his hot breath on your face before his mouth closes around yours possessively, tongue demanding entrance. You let out a soft whimper and your tongue dances with his much more skilled one. The knife drops to the ground and is quickly replaced by his fingers massaging over the skin roughly. His other hand leaves yours to scandalously claw at your waist, urging your body closer to his, and your hand falls from the tree to tangle in the base of his hair. Your other hand explores his firm chest, desperately pushing past his cloak to feel him through less layers.
In a matter of seconds, he's turned you into some sort of harlot, abandoning all of your knowledge from finishing school, making your legs weak as he sucks on your bottom lip. Suddenly, his fingers squeeze around your windpipe, but not in a way that would hurt you, rather it draws a lengthy moan from you.
Feeling intoxicated by his presence and the lack of air, you pull away from him, resting your head in the crook of his neck and leaning against his chest, trying to catch your breath. Both of your hands relax on his warm torso, his arms now wrapped around you protectively. You dare to glance up at him, and you're met with his soft gaze staring down at you, still getting used to that strange white eye.
"Who are you?" you whisper to him.
He chuckles deeply, "Your salvation… But for now, you can call me Terzo."
You aren't sure what that answer meant, but you decide to try out his name on your tongue.
Out of the corner of your eye, you see a silver chain dangling on one of his fingers: the emerald pendant from earlier. You stand up straight, putting a bit of space between your bodies.
"Think of me when you wear it, sì?" He commands more than asks, as he latches the clasp around your neck. Your fingers feel the precious stone on your chest, while Terzo bends down to gather your pastries and his knife.
He hands the tied up package to you and makes a move to walk away.
"Wait-" you stop him. You lean up on your toes and give one one last sweet and lingering kiss. "Will I see you again?"
"Sì, do not worry, tesoro," he places his lips to your forehead then disappears into the woods.
• •
You wake that night after seeing flashes of him in your dreams, and you're warmer than normal. The heat between your legs pools stronger than you've ever felt before. The pulsing of your blood so strong, it almost feels like someone is touching you there.
Squeezing your thighs together, you try to sit up and ignore it, opening your window to let in the cool night air.
"…touch…" It's like a whisper in the wind. Your hand rests at your pelvis, balling your night gown up, fighting the sensation between your legs, like a slow, languid stroke back and forth, just enough to make you want more. But you shouldn't. It's debaucherous to even speak of these things in the little bubble that is the castle you live in, let alone to partake.
Another whisper, "please yourself for me, bella mia…" You must be losing your mind. 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘢𝘮 𝘐 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘸?
You look around, seeing everything in your room is as usual, but the aching in your core grows stronger. You feel your blood rapidly filling the area. Ever-so-gently, you grind against the sheet beneath you, and feel immediate relief at the sensation. "Ah…"
You crave more, need it even. Grabbing a pillow and shoving it under your weight; you rock your hips back and forth, toes curling as your fingers come to rest on the emerald pendant once again. You notice it glowing and nearly vibrating with energy.
"Yesss, cara, just like that," you hear him again, intoxicating you.
You rip off your night gown, leaving you bare under the moonlight as you soak the plush fabric that scrapes against your folds.
From his campsite deep in the woods, Terzo sits on his knees in a position similar to yours as his hand works over his hardened member, teasing at his own tip to drag him closer to that precipice he enjoys so much. "Touch yourself, dolce mia, please," he begs into the open air.
Back in your room, you follow his command, fingers diving between folds you'd never explored before. Upon finding a little bundle of nerves that's quite pleasing, you cry out in pleasure. Flicking over the spot again and again has the most euphoric feeling building in your pelvis.
Terzo holds both hands out in front of him, balled up onto fist for his cock to push in and out of, wishing it were you. His jaw hangs slack at the thought. "Will you come for me, tesoro?"
For the first time you address him, unsure if he's able to hear you, unsure if this is even real, "I- I think I am…" Your fingers work faster chasing that feeling higher and higher when crash! You feel the shockwave over take you, your fingers flying from beneath you to brace yourself on the windowsill. "Terzo!!!!" you scream his name out the window as your climax rips through your body for the first time.
Hands pumping fast, Terzo spills his seed all over the ground before him, cock twitching and sending long white streams through the air. He chuckles to himself, as he's pretty sure he heard your scream echo through the woods.
• •
Days passed and he was the only thought on your mind. You were careful to only wear his pendant in the night so no one would question where it came from, but also so whatever 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 was wouldn't happen again in the broad daylight. You weren't completely sure the pendant had anything to do with it, but best to be safe.
Your father, the king, had you meeting with more suitors. You were past the age that you should be married; you should probably even have a couple babes by now, but perhaps you were progressive minded in thinking that you weren't just some livestock to be sold off for breeding.
The more time passed, and the more kisses that you had to share with these boys--Terzo kissed you like a man should, like a lover would--well, they all paled in comparison to it, and frankly you were starting to miss him. Although, no doubt, you feel insane for missing a man that held you at knife point just to give you a kiss… The best kiss of your life.
As you wait in the garden for the next suitor to come along, you figured you'd spend an hour with him, then onto the next--𝘐𝘵'𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘮.
You stare at the man before you like you'd just seen a ghost.
"Ma'am, this is Marquis Lucien Sauveterre," the chaperone announces.
Terzo takes your hand and kisses your knuckles just as he had in the bazaar that day. "C'est un plaisir de faire votre connaissance, ma belle." (Pleasure to make your acquaintance, beautiful.)
Your head is spinning.
"Merci," he hands the chaperone some gold coins, and waves them off.
"What are doing here!!?" you whisper shout at Terzo once the chaperone returns back inside. "𝘓𝘶𝘤𝘪𝘦𝘯 𝘚𝘢𝘶𝘷𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘦…" you mock the fake name you'd been given, rolling your eyes.
That devious smirk pulls at his lips. He was dressed much nicer today, as were you; clearly he was hiding some sort of noble background as well.
"How have you been, mia principessa? Did you enjoy yourself a few nights ago?"
Your eyes dart up to his, and he looks you over as if he knows what you look like naked. 𝘔𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴… 𝘐'𝘮 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵.
"Anyway, I won't be bothering you long. I came to deliver a message: there's a big tree with a nice canopy in the middle of a wheat farmer's field not far from here, do you know the one?"
You nod your head; you go there to read sometimes.
"Meet me there tomorrow, sì? I'll be waiting for you." His hand cups your cheek and he kisses you quickly, a tease compared to what you know those lips can do. "I think about you every day, too, cara mia. I can't get you off my mind, but you knew that would happen when you kissed me the way you did," he guilts you with a grin.
"I believe you were the one who kissed me, sir. Held me up with a knife for it," you sass him.
You hear a low groan near your ear followed by, "Let me taste you once more, principessa."
With that, your lips crash into his with a fire to rival your previous encounter.
"Brava ragazza," he compliments you, breathless, "So responsive for me."
You blush at his praises.
"Now, when I leave here, you're to act like you despised me. You want nothing to do with me or my people ever again, sì? And then I'll see you when the sun rises again." He gives you a wink and another kiss on the forehead before leaving you to face more of your stupid suitors.
• •
The next day, you dress in your common clothes again, you hadn't yet acquired a cotton petticoat or linen corset.
You slip out of one of the back gates, letting your handmaiden know you were going to the bazaar again. And heaven knows you don't know what possessed you, but you didn't wear anything except your thigh high stockings under your petticoat.
"How did things go with your papà?" Terzo asks, languidly laid out on his side under your reading tree.
"Well…" you sit next to him crossing your arms and propping them on your knees, feeling the cool breeze rush up your skirt. "No more French suitors," you coyly reply.
He bursts out a short laugh, leaning up to sit closer to you, "Mia principessa was convincing then. Eccellente." Terzo kisses your temple.
"Terzo," you address him directly.
"Hm?"
"Who are you? I know your name, but I don't know anything else. The thought of you drives me wild, don't you think I deserve to know you at least a little bit? You clearly know a lot about me."
"Sì, sì, you are right," he holds your face in his hands, admiring all the little details as if committing them to memory. "I cannot tell you who I am or what I do. You must believe me when I say this is for your own safety."
You think on it for a moment, chewing your lip. "At least tell me something about yourself. Something not many others know."
"Let's see… I like meeting with beautiful women in secret," he giggles and kisses you.
"Terzo…" You search his two toned eyes.
"Okie dokie, tesoro. I like to partake in the company of beautiful people; I don't enjoy waking up alone. I'm sure it's obvious that I'm far away from home, and that's because I'm in search of something to take back with me. And I write music; sometimes you might catch me at the pubs singing for others."
Yes, it was cryptic, but you felt like he was as honest as he could be.
"Hmmm… What's your favorite flower?" you question him.
"White roses."
"And what do you think of before you go to sleep?"
"Home."
"What is home like?"
"Old, but it's full of life," a genuine smile comes to his face at the thought.
"Thank you…" you whisper to him.
"For what, bella mia?"
"Honesty. Your honesty," you lean forward, giving him a chaste kiss.
His fingers weave into your hair, urging you to lean your head back, where he then starts peppering kisses across the soft skin of your jaw and neck. You think kissing him has to be your favorite thing in the world.
Your arms find a cozy spot on his waist so you can let him work on you. Traveling towards your shoulder, Terzo's fingertips slip your sleeve from your shoulder, exposing more skin to him. He leaves a playful nip at the end of your collarbone, earning a squeak from you.
Hands find his shoulder blades, scratching at his black tunic as he lays you back on the grass, hand cradling your head. His legs tangle with yours while his mouth worships the cleavage spilling from your dress.
With your fingers threaded in his raven colored hair, you pull his attention back to you, wanting his mouth on yours. As he situates himself above you, his hand hooks your knee on his hip. When that same hand starts to creep up your thigh under your petticoat, you feel something hard start to press against your pelvis.
Fighting every want in your body, you put a hand on his, stopping him. "We shouldn't…" Embarrassment washes over you. "I just, it's- I'm supposed to be pure for when I get married."
"Cara, you do not owe me an explanation. If you don't want to, then we don't, sì?" He sits you both up, looking you right in the eyes to let you know he means it.
You lean into his chest for a hug, and he pulls you into his lap, leaning back against the large shady tree. "I hate it… The future of my father's kingdom depends on me remaining untouched. All of it for a man I won't want to marry."
"Don't say that, dolcezza, you may meet someone and really love them." He tries to encourage you. "Besides, your virginity shouldn't matter to anyone, especially not some man. It doesn't matter to me."
"It doesn't?"
"No, of course not. It's just some foolish ideal of the Christian church to keep women controlled." You were a little taken aback, surprised at his progressive thinking and at his blatant dismissal of the church that your father was a conduit for.
"Well, I still don't think I'll find any suitor that I love," you look down at his chest, trying to find the words, "not when you're the one who occupies my heart."
"Don't say that, principessa…" he says as if the wind has just been knocked out if his chest. "You deserve someone much nicer than I."
"Nicer? I don't want nice. All of those stupid suitors are nothing but nice! I want passion, the fire that I feel with you, I- I want 𝘺𝘰𝘶. And you make me feel CRAZY for it! I hardly know you, yet you're all I think about. When I wake up in the morning I long for you to be there; when I try to sleep at night, I want you in my arms."
In that moment, he knew he'd found what he'd been searching for, the thing to take home with him: you.
Looking down at the emerald worn proudly on your chest for him, he admits his feelings, "Ti amo, principessa." No one had ever wormed their way into his heart as fast as you had. He still had much to reveal to you, and he couldn't wait to be open with you, but he knew he had to get you somewhere safe before that could happen.
You give him a few short kisses before standing up in front of him. After kicking off your shoes, you work the laces on your dress with expert fingers, loosening them and letting the linen fabric as well as your silk petticoat fall to ground around you.
Terzo stares up at you, drinking in the sight of your soft thighs hugged by the plush white stockings, your bare sex, and the curve of your waist that your corset forced onto you.
"Make love to me," you ask of him, biting your lip.
He stands up on his knees, approaching you to wrap his hands around the back of your thighs, and sucking a lovebite to your hipbone. "I would love nothing more, bella mia."
While looking up at you, he delicately kisses your inner thigh, right next to your core, making sure you're still okay with everything before placing a sloppy open mouthed kiss to your folds.
It's unlike anything you've ever felt before. It's wet and it's hot and it feels like heaven. 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘢𝘮𝘢𝘻𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘪𝘯 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥… Without realizing, your hands tangled in his hair, pulling harshly and drawing a moan from the man beneath you.
"Oh goodness, I'm sorry if I hurt you…" You let go of him.
He opens his eyes to look at you through his lashes, "You're not going to hurt me." He takes your hand and puts it back on his head before going back to work, flicking his tongue happily over your clit.
Within seconds, your legs are shaking from him having total control over the bundle of nerves. "T-Terz-zo…" you stutter out.
He stops what he's doing and takes your hand in his, "Do you need to lie down, amore?"
You nod at him, and he helps you onto your back, but not before spreading his cloak out on the grass for you. Terzo picks your thighs up, squeezing tightly so your feet rest on his back, before getting right back to work. And with his next move, he has you seeing stars. His lips surround your clit and suck on it harshly, making you mewl for him to keep going.
He drops one of your thighs to tease your entrance with a finger, pressing in lightly to test the waters.
"Mmm! More!" you command.
With that, he slides a little deeper, slowly curling his finger over and over again, his mouth still sucking on you in just the right way.
"I- ah, Terzo, I'm-" your face is scrunched with pleasure as your orgasm reaches you.
Terzo can help but think about how fun this will be with you so sensitive as he helps you through it. After a few minutes, he sits up, still keeping that finger in you, working you slowly.
"Ready for another one, tesoro?" he asks.
"Another what?" you inquire innocently. He holds up his free hand and wiggles his digits. "Oh! Um, yes, please."
He slides out, slicking up his second finger and gingerly going back in. "You cum very easily," he states like it's the most casual thing in the world.
Feeling the stretch of his two fingers, you reply, "I do?" Being filled like this is completely foreign to you; it may take some getting used to.
He nods his head with a half smile, "It's cute."
"Oh," you feel heat come to your cheeks, and it's not from lust.
"Don't be ashamed, cara mia. I enjoy making you cum, and I'll make you do it again, and again, and again." He thrusts his fingers in time with his words to make his point.
You whimper at his motions, and he lays down next to you to make out with you yet again. Legs lifting in the air showing how needy you are for his fingers inside you, the feeling of his digits curling has that fire in your belly burn smoldering.
Hungrily, you start to toy with his tunic, needing to see more of him. "Terzo…"
His eyes find yours, the sun peeking through the canopy of the tree catching his pale face so beautifully. His hair is all messed up, falling over his eyes, irises blown wide with lust even in the bright daylight.
You reach out, fumbling with his hardness through his pants. "I need you," you pant out. In your mind, you knew there was no going back after this, but there was no stopping you either. Your desire for him was stronger than anything you'd ever felt.
He pulls his fingers from you, popping them right into his mouth; he wouldn't want to waste it after all. Next, his tunic flies off, pulled over his head hastily, exposing his chest, belly, and shoulders to you. Curious fingertips take in the expanse of skin, only serving to make you want more. He works at the ties on his trousers, fidgeting with the knot.
"Here, let me," you sit up, nimble fingers making quick work of it, just like your dress.
Seeing him lain bare is like a work of art; one that belongs in a museum for centuries to come. The long legs, the curve of his hip as he lays on his side, the hungry look in his eyes…
"Your turn," he whispers before pouncing on you, undoing the snaps on your corset before discarding it. Flipped on your back yet again with your lover atop you, his mouth explores your newly uncovered breasts. "Bellissima…" he grumbles against your chest.
With your legs wrapped around his hips, you pull him down so he's flush against you.
"Impatient, principessa," he kisses a trail up your neck to your jaw, "Always getting what she wants." He kisses you once on the lips, leaving you wanting more, "It will be no different with me; I'll give you everything your heart desires." And with that his lips meet with your again, soft at first before shifting back into the passionate rhythm you normally share.
Fingernails claw at his hips, still in desperate need to feel him inside you. As if reading your mind, his hand guides his hot girth through your slick folds, collecting every drop. He lets out a shaky breath and bites his lip, "Are you ready, tesoro?"
Already keening at the feeling, half from lust and half from anticipation, you nod your head fervently, "Yes! Yes, Terzo."
Not wanting to make you wait another second, he rocks his hips forward in a small motion, just pushing in a tiny bit. Terzo watches your face intently, waiting for any sign that he should stop. Slowly, he pulls back and slides right back in, a little deeper this time, "Bene?" he whispers to you.
"Mm-hmm," you confirm, getting used to the way he fills you.
He kisses your cheek with a hand on your hip to keep you still. As he starts going deeper, your face scrunches up, and he stops instantly, searching your face for what to do next.
"Just stay still for a moment," you caress his cheek, "It feels so good, I just need a moment." You feel his cock twitch inside you, making you realize how much he must be restraining himself to make you comfortable. You nod your head again, "Move," you demand.
Terzo doesn't hesitate, languidly pushing and pulling his hips, not even concerned with trying to go further for fear of hurting you. He lets out a soft groan at the pleasure washing over him.
"Deeper, I want to feel all of you," your hand snakes up between his shoulder blades lightly scratching.
He lifts his eyebrows as if to ask if you're sure, and you nod once again. With that, he adjusts his body to get back on his hands above you and makes sure your legs are properly wrapped around his hips; you even hook your ankles together so you don't go anywhere.
The change in angle alone feels wonderful, but when he thrusts into you solidly one time, you feel him sheath his himself into you fully. You gasp out at feeling his full length, the burn of it quickly melting away as he moves excitedly against you.
He stays on his hands for just a few more pulses of his hips before falling to his elbows so he can caress your form. "How is that, piccolina?"
"S-so good," you stammer.
"Sei così bella," (You look beautiful,) he pants hotly into your ear as his hand glides down the side of your body to grip your ass. His head nuzzles into the crook of your shoulder as he moans out his satisfaction.
Peaking over his shoulder, you watch his body move on top of yours: knees spread and toes digging into the ground to keep close to you, hips bouncing showing off the delicious curve of his ass and hip bone. It was a sight you could easily get used to.
Suddenly you feel another wave of pleasure creeping up on you, "Ohhh, Terzo…" you drag out his name.
"Sì, vieni per me, amore," (Yes, cum for me, love,) he grunts. You're not entirely sure what he's saying, but all it takes is a few strokes of his fingers on your center to have your tight wet heat clenching around his cock. "Sì, sì, bellissima, così bella…" (Yes, yes, very beautiful, so beautiful…)
You whine for him, hardly feeling like you're on planet earth anymore as you come undone at his hands. Things slow down for a brief period, as your lover lets you cool down from your high; he presses soft kisses to your collarbone as you stare up at the leaves in the tree.
Next, you certainly don't know what came over you, but you were pushing him up and to the side, and Terzo reacts quickly, holding your hips tight to him as he's rolled into his back. He looks genuinely impressed with that move as you instinctively begin to ride him, hands clutching his chest as you lift your hips and drop them.
The man beneath you helps guide you with a strong hand, and his other finds your throat again, squeezing lightly at your windpipe. You let out a small moan of anticipation at his actions. "Not quite yet, tesoro," he winks at you.
"Ughh," you groan only half frustrated. Legs more tired than you'd anticipated, you start sliding yourself back and forth rather than up and down, and it's pays off more than you would've expected as his length continuously grazes over that spot his fingers found earlier. It has that now familiar feeling building back up again, and you furrow your brow and bite your lips trying to stave it off.
"Don't fight it, cara mia, trova il tuo piacere con me…" (Find your pleasure with me…) And of course, as he promised, his hand returns to your neck, squeezing just the right way to make your head feel lighter than air. It only serves to heighten the sensations you feel and sends you toppling over in your release, literally.
Terzo holds you close as you crash down on top of him, cunt encircling his hard lust so deliciously. He cries out as his release explodes inside you, your name the only word on his lips, which is pretty impressive for a guy who knows at least two languages and never shuts up.
You can feel the warm liquid filling you; it makes you squirm on top of him. Returning the many kisses from earlier, you take your turn to adorn his pale skin with your love, as you both hold each other tightly.
Rolling off of him with shaky thighs, you bundle up in his large cloak as best you can, feeling more exposed now than before; it would certainly need to be cleaned later. He drags you right back over to him, cuddling you to his chest and kissing the top of your head. "Dolce mia, you could bring the Devil to his knees," he remarks, still catching his breath.
You look at him like he'd just said the most scandalous thing you'd ever heard, perhaps it was the most scandalous thing you'd ever heard, and he laughs heartily from his chest. A small giggle escapes you, and you offer him some of the cloak cuddle under with you. "You're gonna have to teach me all those Italian phrases, although maybe I don't wanna know what they mean," you blush at him, making him laugh again.
His lips find yours in a loving kiss, "There will be plenty of time for that, amore mio."
• •
The next time you see him, you have a ring on your finger and tears in your eyes.
"Stellina, you must dry your eyes. I can't stand to see you like this," he pulls you into a hug, his cloak wrapping around you once again; it always smells so much like him.
You had made a regular routine of meeting near the bazaar or under the reading tree every few days, whenever you weren't seeing suitors. Much to your dismay, the courting was over since your father selected a fiancé for you.
"Come, sit with me," Terzo whispers to you. He sits with his back against the tree and you in his lap, another habit you'd fallen into together in the short time you'd known one another. "Tell me what happened, cara mia."
"He was tired of waiting…" you sob, and Terzo knew you were referring to the king. "He said I was making the kingdom wait too long, and since relations between his and Lord Vogel's lands haven't been ideal lately, he's betrothed me to the man's son! I'm nothing more than a chess pawn to him!" You lean against your lover's chest, letting the tears flow.
"Amore, you are so much more than a simple pawn," he kisses your head, running his fingers through your hair repeatedly.
You sit up, looking in Terzo's eyes and cupping his cheek. "I don't want to marry him. For me, there is only you. I would give it all away if it meant I could have my life with you."
"Tesoro… Don't say that. You love your father, you're committed to your kingdom." How he wished he could whisk you away, but deep down he would feel so guilty for taking you away from everything you'd ever known.
"I do love my family, but I haven't been happy, not since I was first made to start seeing suitors. I know everyone thinks I'm just some stupid girl, but nothing has shown me the corruption of royalty and the blasphemous use of religion to play their little games better than being courted. They play games with people's lives, even the ones in their own homes!" You pound your fist against his chest and he clasps it in his, "Is that why you left your home? It makes me want to leave mine."
"No, cara mia. My home isn't like this. Everyone is accepted for who they wish to be, and everyone has the freedom to leave if they'd like. Even those in the royal blood line," Terzo explains.
"So you're from a kingdom too?" you ask.
"Eh, of sorts, but we don't call it that."
"I've never heard of a place like that. Sounds wonderful," you look down, wringing your hands together, fidgeting with your new ring. "Say, have you found the thing you're supposed to return home with yet?" you ask, referring to the first bit of information he ever told you about himself.
"Sì, I have, Stellina," he pets your hair lightly, playing with the ends.
"Well, then why haven't you gone back?" You look up at his mismatched eyes, the ones you never get tired of looking into.
"Because, ah… I found something here that feels like home, amore," he puts his hand over your heart, indicating that he's talking about you.
You put your hand over his, "Do you think… Could I be accepted where you're from?"
"Sì, we accept all, tesoro, no matter their background."
"Would you take me there?" you whisper.
Your lover diverts his eyes and remains silent.
"Terzo?"
Turning his eyes back to you, he has a painted expression on his face, like he's completely torn about what to do. "I fear you would feel like not more than a caged bird there, as well."
"Would I not be allowed to be with you?" you worry out loud.
"No, tesoro, we'll be together. I would never let anything take you from me," he takes your hand in his.
"If we stay here, my father will take me from you. I'll be sent off to another land and made to have someone else's babes," you remind him.
He leans his head back on the reading tree, sighing a deep breath, "I'd like to give you the choice, cara, but you have to know what you'll be involved with."
"Okay."
"I'll have to forgo some details, because it won't be safe for you should you decide not to return with me, but know that I will tell you everything when I can," he warns.
"I trust you, Terzo."
He takes in another breath, nervous that what he has to say will scare you away. "I'm to be the figurehead of a covert organization," the language sounded very practiced, not like how he usually speaks, "We seek out those who desire acceptance, freedom from the systems around them, an escape from corruption. When I return, I'll be expected to take a partner, just as you face, Stellina. Which is why I set out in search of love," he starts to sound more like himself again. "Cara, should you return with me, I'd like you to be mine. I know it would feel like you're trading one arranged marriage for another…"
His words make you realize just how similar you are, how he faced the same issue you did, and how despite it, you still found one another. "Amore," you try the new language on your tongue, "you're not only offering me a choice, you're offering me liberation… What was it you said so confidently in the woods that day? That you would be my salvation? Well, then… Free me."
That fire in your eyes had come back to him, the thing he loves most about you; you may be a princess, but you had some real fight in you. "Anything for you, principessa."
You chatted for the rest of the afternoon; what looked like casual talk between lovers was really planning and plotting for how he would get you out of the city, away from civilization, and slip quietly across the country side back to Italy.
"When do we leave?" you ask him with a warm smile. You straddle his lap now, fiddling with the edges of his cloak.
"Not for a few days, cara. You'll need a horse. I'll have to trade for one." He twirls your hair on his finger.
"We have horses at the castle, I could just take one," you offer.
"No, if they come looking for you, which they will, they would recognize one of their own horses, sì?"
"They would," you look down, feeling dumb for the suggestion.
He scoops your chin in his hand and kisses your nose. "It pains me to say it, tesoro, but you will have to cut your hair. Anyone could recognize your beauty."
"It will grow back," you bite your lip playfully and lean your forehead on his. "Hmm, what's this?" you ask, slipping a piece of paper from the lining of the cloak.
For a moment, he stiffens up like he wants to take it away from you, but he decides to let you read it… Except it's all in Italian.
"What does it say?" You look at him with innocence.
He takes the paper from you and clears his throat:
"Alessandro,
The halls of the abbey haven't been the same without your spirited presence. We wish you home soon, but no one understands more than I how you need this time away. The world is much bigger than we may know, especially in our little fortress here at home. Some may never find the love that you so desperately desire, but I will pray every day that I see you not return to these grounds until you have it. It will pain me not to see you each and every day, not to hold you close to me even though it makes you squirm for freedom, but this is a journey you must make for yourself and for your future love.
Your mother, Felìcita"
He's not sure why he felt compelled to share it with you, but he felt there was no need to hide anymore.
"And this letter is yours? I thought your name was Terzo?"
"Sì," he huffs a small laugh at you, "it is. Terzo is one of my names, but Alessandro is my birth name. No one calls me that except mia madre." He smiles foldly thinking of her.
"Oh," you pause for a moment, taking in all the little details you'd just learned about him and where he comes from. You can't help but imagine his mother as a loving and caring woman, something you hadn't known since losing yours. "Alessandro," You lock eyes with one another at the use of his name. "Ti amo… Is that how you say it?"
He smiles broadly, giving you a quick kiss, "Sì, I love you too, principessa."
• •
The task at hand is simple: sneak out of the castle just like you do all the time, even a few times at night, but now it was for forever. There would be no returning.
You scan your suite one final time, silently thanking the walls for harboring you and all the feelings you'd cried, screamed, punched into them over the years. Of all the places in the castle, this was your favorite; however, it was also the place that kept you hidden away from the rest of the world.
Sliding your engagement ring off of your finger, you leave it on the bedside table. It would be obvious that you ran away, no signs of struggle, just a bird free from the cage. You clasp the pendant Terzo had given you around your neck, immediately feeling his energy wash over you. Whatever he had done to that necklace, you couldn't explain.
Finally, slipping into your darkest cloak, a deep maroon, and picking up the bag of things you'd need: warm layers, extra riding shoes, and your mom's bracelet that she'd worn on her wedding day to your father. Quickly taking a peek out of your high up window, you see a few guards on rotation, some look asleep, others just wandering around. You had rested up as much as you could the last few days, knowing you had a long night ahead of you.
Taking a few pebbles from a small plant you had in your room and shoving them in your pocket, you close the window and leave the room, not only locking the door behind you, but breaking the key off in the keyhole. The longer it took for them to see you were gone, the better.
Sneaking down staircases and through back corridors seemingly lost to time, you made it to your usual back door. Cracking it open slowly, you scan to see where the guards are: none in sight, and your exit gate is just a few paces away. Stepping out into the cool night, you hear two guards chatting around the corner. Hiding behind a stack of barrels, you launch a couple of pebbles in their direction, and they ping off of a watering trough nearby.
As expected, it grabs their attention and they saunter over, completely unaware of your presence. Taking your opportunity, you quietly run over to the gate, flipping the latch as silently as possible and squeezing out, opening it only a little. Once on the other side, you try to even out your nervous breathing and quietly click the latch closed.
You take one last look up at the castle before turning to walk away; you had to walk while still in earshot of the palace, but once you are far away, your feet start to fly, carrying you fast and hard toward your lover. Holding the pendant against your chest, you feel his pride swelter in your chest.
Breathing hard as you run past the farmer's wheat field, you nod a final goodbye to the reading tree, warm memories of the spot flashing in your mind. You make your way towards town, near the bazaar was a tavern where Terzo would be waiting for you.
Perfect timing too, as the raven haired man exits the bar, you approach, stopping near the brothel by the stables. A few ladies of the night wait around to draw in what would be their pay for the evening, and one of them compliments how pretty you are.
"Alrighty, fellas, it's time for me to call it a night," he says to the two guys on either side of him, all hanging onto one another drunk. He spots you and gives you a wink.
"Planning to sneak off and bed one of the harlots over there?" one of the guys jabs at his side.
"Sì, sì, I think I've got my eyes on one," Terzo chuckles.
"Aye, hopefully she's good," the other guy says as your lover separates himself from them, making his way over to you.
"Oh, she is," he mumbles to himself.
As he approaches you, swiping a hand through your hair and tickling your chin, one of the bar guys calls out, "Aye!!! That don't look like no common whore." 𝘚𝘩𝘪𝘵. They were onto you; perhaps your disguises weren't as good as you thought.
Hesitating for a second and looking at Terzo with wide eyes, you jump right to action, bending over and lifting your skirt, gathering the fabric to show off your leg. You unhook a couple of garter clips, sliding one of your stockings down exposing the flesh of your thigh and giving the man before you the most sultry bedroom eyes you could muster.
Terzo responds with a low whistle and a shit eating grin, waving the other guys off before leading you back behind the brothel. You try to hide the giggle that works its way out of you, "I'm not sure what came over me, I just thought it was the best way to get them off our trail," you excitedly explain as Terzo presses you up against the wall, lips crashing into yours.
His body pressed tight against yours, giving anyone that might still see you the impression that he wanted to give off. "Brava ragazza, bella mia, I think you fooled them all," he praises you hotly in your ear.
Your fingers tangle in his black locks, and you attack his lips again. "Tutto per te, amore mio," (All for you, my love,) you tell him, you'd stolen a book from the kingdom's library to practice your Italian, but don't worry, you made sure to put it back before you left, not leaving any trace as to where you would be going.
Terzo growls against your lips, frustrated he can't take you right here and now. Once he's sure those guys went back inside the pub, he drags you by the hand over to his horse--a gorgeous midnight black. Lifting you by the hips, he sits you up on the horse's back, who lets out a huff. "Oh hush, bella ragazza, it's only for a little while," he scolds the horse playfully, giving her nose a scratch.
As Terzo hoists himself up on the animal, you catch the eye of the lady that complimented you earlier. She holds a questioning look on her face, so you throw a finger over your lips, silently asking her to keep your secret. She nods slowly at you, waving her ornate fan a few times in front of her face, a signal telling you to go while you can.
You nudge your lover's side, telling him it's time, and you cling to him tightly, riding side saddle in front of him, as he whips the reins, and you disappear into the woods.
• •
The first few days of travel would be the hardest. A few miles into the woods, Terzo would meet up with the horse he'd found for you, a beautiful dappled stallion, and from there you would ride separately. You would ride through the whole first night; it's important to make as much distance as possible as early into the trip as you can, because it will mean more distance between you and the knights that search for you.
You will catch naps and food as often as you can, but you will move almost constantly through small towns, fields, woods for about two to three days. When you get your first real break, setting up camp deep in some forest, Terzo will cut your hair and bury it, leaving no trace of your locks; he will also rub some dirt in your hair in an effort to change the color and texture even if only a little. And then you will move some more.
Everything went exactly as your lover told you it would. You were tired, exhausted really, from lack of sleep, having to take shifts to listen for danger, when all you really wanted was to hold him close and drift off. The smell wasn't great; you certainly weren't used to spending extended time like this outdoors with no bath. But you are happy.
Happy to be free from a marriage you didn't want. Happy to be by Alessandro's side; you'd really grown to understand one another well, especially when you are having to survive the elements and possible danger lurking at every corner.
"Alessandro, look! A stream!" you chirp happily, riding horse back, sun spilling through the trees
The use of his name made his lips quirk upward; he liked that you'd made a habit of it. "Sì, we should refill our cannisters," he points out.
"It looks so nice, amore, deep enough to step in. Do you think we could stop just for a quick bath?" Your eyes beg him.
As much as he didn't want to waste a moment in your escape, he knew it would make you feel better. He nods his head and leads the horses over to the running water.
Within seconds, you're dismounted and shedding layers of fabric. It was a nice warm day, and you planned on soaking it in, at least for the little while that you could before heading out again.
Terzo chuckles at you as you stand in your undergarments before him.
"Coming in, lover boy?" you tease, unsnapping the top few buttons on your corset, squeezing your cleavage together nicely.
"I shouldn't," he looks you up and down, biting his lip to hide his mirth.
"Oh, but you should. You smell just as much as I. Together we're probably worse than that horse's ass," you throw over your shoulder as you disrobe the last of your clothes, and stepping into the stream.
Terzo watches you candidly, as he refills your drinking water supply. Watching as your wet, naked body glistens and sparkles in the sun.
You dip your head in the water, fingers struggling to get used to the shorter length of your hair as you loosen the clay that tangles your locks. Terzo will insist on reapplying it, but for now, it's nice to let your hair down, so to speak.
Speaking of the sneaky bastard, he'd already slipped out of his clothes and was joining you for a quick dip. "Mmm, hello, cara mia," he greets you, wrapping his arms around your frame, bringing you close to him.
"I thought you weren't coming in," you whisper jokingly.
"You know I can't resist you like this, principessa," he kisses your cheek and ear a few times.
"I hardly feel like a princess like this," you cringe.
"You will always be my princess, all mine." Slowly you kiss one another. You hadn't had much time for romance since running away, so it felt incredibly intimate being able to kiss him so languidly. He holds your jaw so delicately, as your hands rinse the cool water over his strong chest.
As his thumb teases at your throat, you let out a small moan. He feels your breath on his face and he gently pries your mouth open to allow his tongue access. Gently, hands roam and caress one another, reveling in feeling one another's bodies as you hadn't been able to in days.
"Cara," Terzo sighs, pressing his hardening length against your hip. It was pretty incredible how you went from such a timid little thing to confidently handling your lover's desire as your palm strokes him, making him rut up into your cupped hand. Fingers dip between your folds, indicating his need to satiate you as well.
Touch starved, it wouldn't take long for either of you; the last time you'd made love was days before your escape from the castle.
The raven haired man lifts one of your thighs up to his hip and then removes his hand from your core to start lining his throbbing member up with your entrance.
"Oh, please, Ale… You always feel so good," you praise him and a soft blush comes to his cheeks. "Did you like that, huh?" You ask as you feel him press into you, "Like when I compliment you, pretty boy?"
His duotoned eyes flash up to yours, lips curling into a smile despite his jaw dropping open at the feeling of your walls flush around his burning lust for you. He nods his head, wanting to hear more. He holds you tightly to him as his hips buck up into your heat, needy for your body and your affections.
"You're so sweet, my Alessandro, oh- ahhh! Your cock feels perfect inside me," you continue.
He grunts softly, letting his head fall to the crook of your neck as he rolls one of your nipples between his thumb and index finger.
With a hand under his chin, you lift his face, "Look at me, handsome."
He bites his lips before pressing them to yours in a heated make out. Your fingers tangle in his unruly locks, and he angles you back slightly, looking to thrust deeper into your delicate walls.
Finding just the right spot, you know you'll be done in seconds. "Touch me Ale, make me feel like a goddess the way you always do," you choke out, fingers pulling at his hair and scratching vicious red lines across the pale skin of his back.
He quickly obliges, making sure to pay special attention to your clit, sending you right into your climax. "Ah!" you cry out, cunt clinching around his swollen desire. A few more pumps and he's filling you with ropes of his seed.
You hold him tightly as you ride out your orgasm, panting out, "See what you do to me, amore? That should be the biggest compliment of all."
He gives you a coy look, "Sì, I do enjoy making you come undone," his confident self returning.
"And you're so good at it," you kiss the tip of his nose, as he slips out of you, shivering at the loss of your warmth, especially in the cool stream flowing around you.
You both take time to dote over one another, washing every inch and savoring the moment before you'll have to be on the move again.
"I could never have done this without you, Terzo," you ponder as you rub his shoulder blades.
"Hm?" he spins around in the water to face you.
"All of it. Running away, traveling south through the woods, living outdoors. I never would've had the courage to do that without you."
His face flushes at your praises again, though this time for a different reason. "I wouldn't be taking this journey without you either, principessa. I'm so glad I found you." Cupping your face, he kisses you a few more times before it's time to get out and dry off.
• •
Back on the horse, feeling much fresher than before, a change of undergarments and all, you and Terzo took the horses quickly through the trees at a nice trot to make up for your little stop a couple miles back.
Suddenly, you hear another set of hooves moving quickly at a distance, as you turn to see who or what it is-
"DUCK!" Terzo screams at you, and you do, the knight speeding by you barely missing you as his arm whips through the air above your crouched body.
You immediately pull your horse to a halt, as does your lover, knife already in hand. Your hand finds the hilt of the knife he'd given you, gripping it tightly under your cloak as you watch the knight circle back towards you: one of your father's. Your stomach drops, and you have to focus to not throw up.
"Aye! There you are little princess!" he hollers out, his pewter helmet glimmering in the sun. "Taking on a different look, huh?" he refers to your hair. "Make this easy on all of us, and come with me. Then maybe your father will be merciful on your boyfriend here, yeah?"
"No." It was all you could manage. You hadn't worked so hard and come all this way to lose it all now.
He urges his horse forward in between yours and Terzo's, making a move to grab at you. Not wanting the knight to get you onto his horse, Terzo swiftly dismounts and yanks the man by his leg, pulling him from his own saddle. He did manage a hand on your wrist which involuntarily dismounts you as well.
Hitting the ground with some force, you gasp for air as the two men entangle in a fight with one another. Your lover isn't the largest man, but he was explosive like dynamite taking on one of your father's largest soldiers in all his armor.
Terzo works to rip parts of the other man's armor from his body, flinging an arm piece across the forest floor like a vicious animal. He expertly evades the larger man's punches, slowed a bit by the heavy metal on his person.
As you sit up, trying to right yourself again, you hear, "Get her! Grab her and take her back to the base camp," from the man fighting Terzo. You look up to see another knight riding up and dismounting, smaller than the other guy, thank heavens.
He chuckles a cocky laugh, heading right for you, "Come on, little princess." The second knight grabs your arm, forcing you up off of the ground. As you look into his eyes, you sober right up from being knocked off your horse, instincts taking over. You push and kick as hard as you can, fighting against him.
Out of the corner of your eye, you see the first knight with his hands around your lover's throat, hoisting him up against a tree. Your eyes widen in horror as you see Alessandro red in the face and sputtering for air, arms outstretched trying to tip the man's helmet off his head.
The knight fighting you made the mistake of underestimating you, as he was dragging you back to his horse only holding onto you with one arm. Like a trained mercenary, you knew what to do. Fast as you could muster, you unsheathed your knife, whistling at him to get him to look at you, and before he could even form a word, your blade was sunk into the soft spot between his chest plate and his helmet.
Harshly dragging the blade from his neck, he drops to the ground as life leaves him. Looking deliriously as the fight between your lover and the knight turns bad, you rush over, dipping to grab a fallen branch in your path.
Terzo looks at you over the knights shoulder, eyes bloodshot as he takes in your beauty seemingly for the last time. Just as his struggling fingers finally tip the dense metal from the knight's head, a loud crack sounds through the forest as your branch meets with your assailant's dome.
Slumping to the side on his knees before falling over, the knight releases your lover, who draws in a raspy breath, coughing painfully. Adrenaline still pumping through his veins, Terzo reaches for his own knife that had fallen to the ground and kneels above the knight that tried to kill him.
You move toward them, holding back one of the knights arms as your lover kneels on the other, swiftly cutting his throat, blood spilling out everywhere.
Stepping around his body, you hold Alessandro to your chest, a million thoughts rushing through your mind, "Oh my god, Terzo… we killed them," you cry into his chest as you both try fill your lungs with air, breathing unevenly and seemingly fighting the atmosphere around you.
"Amore, we must go. You heard them; there are more," Terzo helps you stand, getting you right back on your horse and sending them running at a full gallop with a harsh smack. Seconds later, he's following right behind you.
You ran the horses as fast as you could for as long as they could take it, tears streaming down your face over the danger afoot, the near loss of your lover, the sin you'd just committed against those knights. Love had changed you, for better or for worse.
• •
The days were long, full of worry that your father's knights would catch up to you once again. At night, you held each other closer than before, often unable to sleep over the anxiety and guilt that riddled your mind.
Finally a small relief came: you were getting close to Italy, and Terzo said he knows the tavern keeper in the next town. You'd ventured into towns to buy food and try to get a reading on how far the search party for you had fanned out, but you'd never stayed the night. Your lover was confident you'd be safe, a feeling you both needed.
As Terzo and the tavern keeper share a whispered greeting, you find a place to rest your feet, your back, your hips. Everything was sore. Between that and the mud and dirt crusted on your face and hair in an attempt to conceal your identity, you can only imagine how terrible you look right now. You could hardly bring yourself to care, only concerned with your safety and right now… relaxing.
Your lover reappears next to you, a glass of mead in each hand. Surely your eyebrows gave away that you were hesitant about drinking whatever was in that glass.
"C'mon, don't be such a 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘱𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘢 about it," he teases you, setting a glass in front of you. As you look left and right to make sure no one took his joke seriously, Terzo kicks back in the chair opposite you and takes a large swig of the amber liquid. "È buono, try some." He throws a wink at you.
He enjoys watching you squirm as you attempt the drink in front of you. Although it wasn't the wine you were used to having at the dinner table, it wasn't bad. In fact, after a few more sips, you could see why people liked it enough to get drunk on it.
Terzo cups your chin in his fingers, swiping across your bottom lip with his thumb. He throws a smug grin at you before throwing the rest of his glass back, wiping his mouth on his sleeve, and standing up again, chair scraping across the floor.
"What-"
"Do not worry, bella mia. I will return," he winks at you, striding across the tavern, weaving between tables to the guy in the corner with a lute. You watch as he mumbles something to the bard, hands him a coin in trade for the lute.
Pulling up a stool in the center of the tavern, he sits and starts to tune the instrument, tweaking the pegs until it sounds just right. You didn't know he had an ear like that, although you think he mentioned something about tavern singing at some point.
He quickly clears his throat, strumming a gentle melody on the acoustic instrument, and starts with the lyrics,
"In an ice-capped fire
Of burning wood
In our world of wire
Ignite our dreams
Of starry skies
And you and me
As realised
Our bigger themes"
Of course, he glanced up at you often. His cheeks flushed as he sang to you; it was obvious he was used to serenading perhaps whoever he was trying to lure in for the evening, but for you it was different. You meant more than that. Much more.
"Oh, take me internally
Forever yours
Nocturnal me,
Take me internally
Forever yours
Nocturnal me…"
Even the ladies of the night are blushing at the innuendo in those lyrics were. Alessandro's lusty eyes find yours, as he continues filling the room with his beautiful melody.
You feel an overwhelming sensation of adoration and love as the emerald pendant on your chest starts glowing lightly, buzzing once again. You could tell that the feelings you were feeling were not only yours, but his as well.
Accompanied by that, a familiar warmth settles between your legs, growing to an uncontrollable burn by the end of the tune. You can't begin to understand the way that the pendant connects your feelings to his, but right now the solution is having your way with your lover.
After Terzo's song concludes, he receives a fair amount of applause as he returns the bard's lute and heads back your way, eyes piercing you.
Your breath hitches in your throat at his gaze before he takes you by the hand, pulling you up out of your seat and kissing your knuckles. It feels like all eyes in the room are on you two, and your survival instincts fight with your desire for him.
Without a word, he sweeps you across the tavern, heading toward the stairs by the bar to take you up to a room.
"Aye! We don't allow that kind of business in this establishment!" the tavern keeper flags Terzo down.
Your lover looks shocked, but notices the silver coin in the man's hand straight away.
The owner taps the coin on the counter, displaying a knight's helmet on it, leaning in closer to you both to and speaking in a more hushed tone, "Ladies of the night aren't welcome to run their operations here; it would be best if you seek refuge in the brothel across the way." He tilts his head towards the exit.
The message is covert but clear: there are knights upstairs, and you need to get out of here fast.
𝘚𝘩𝘪𝘵. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘵'𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘛𝘦𝘳𝘻𝘰 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘐 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵?
"Ah! Mi dispiace, amico. We will not disturb you any further," your lover exuberantly replies, leading you towards the door.
You are warmly invited into the brothel with your lover, a few of the women pining over him, playing with whisps of his hair or swiping their fingers across his shoulder. It was enough reason to suspect he'd been here before too…
When he brushes them off, asking politely for a room for the two of you, the insecurities you'd been feeling melt away; it's clear he only has eyes for you.
A point that only becomes more evident when Alessandro whisks you into your room for the night, immediately pinning you to the door with his mouth latched to your neck. "Terz…"
He caresses you, pressing his body right up against yours. "I know, amore mio, I want you so badly. Sei così bella…"
You feel anything but beautiful right now. "No, Ale, I-"
Your lover's actions come to a screeching halt as he hears the tone in your voice: one of fear and worry. Two things you should never have to feel, in his humble opinion.
"I don't think I can do this… What if those guards find us? Terzo, I'm so scared," you cling to his cloak with frustrated fists, leaning your forehead against his chest.
"Do not fret, cara mia. I know it feels as if we are in the lion's den, but you are safe here. I know many people in this little village, and they will not give us away." He smoothes back your tangled hair, trying to ease your mind.
"But they can't stop those knights from seeing us! They can't stop them from recognizing me," you have real urgency present in your voice and in the way you look at him.
"Well…" He pauses to think for a moment. "What if I set up an alert system? I can have le signore here on lookout for us tonight, and we'll leave before sunrise, sì?" He rubs your arms, leading you over to the bed to at least sit down.
Your nerves are so on edge, you feel like you could ride off into the forest right now, into some secret tunnel that would take you to your destination… But you knew that wouldn't be good for you: number one because of exhaustion, and number two because you're clearly delirious if you're hoping for some imaginary path through these mountains. Relaxing into the plush mat on the bed, it wasn't much, but it was certainly so much nicer than the hard ground you'd unfortunately had to get used to.
"Principessa," Alessandro whispers to you, "You are tired. Get some rest, tesoro. I will make sure we are safe," he coos, helping you lie back in bed.
Sleepiness has hit you like a wall, especially being in a bed for the first time in what felt like months. "Amore… I trust you," you squeak out before pressing a soft kiss to his lips and allowing yourself to truly relax. Within minutes, you're out, softly making little noises in your sleep.
Terzo smiles down at you, carefully pressing his lips to your temple before slipping from the room. He's got work to do.
• •
Waking in Alessandro's warm embrace was something you'd happily gotten used to, often holding onto each other out of necessity on cold nights, but to wake in a bed, bundled up and fairly well-rested… Now this is something you'd like to experience more often.
Turning over to see Terzo's bare chest, you wish you had more time to show it your affection, but the sun will be showing itself soon.
Grumbly and not wanting to separate himself from you, it's a challenge waking the sleepy man.
"Now who's being a 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘱𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘢, huh?" you quietly jab at him. "C'mon, bed bug, we've got to get moving before those knights do."
He groans, finally cracking his eyes open, "I told you, amore, we have nothing to worry about with that." He smooches your forehead before you climb out of bed.
"Yeah, we won't have anything to worry about if we leave!" you chuckle, trying to be as lighthearted as you can by chucking his cloak at his lying form.
"Eh!" He swats his hand playfully before finally getting up.
After lacing up your corset, you lean down to retrieve Terzo's shirt noticing something on the sleeve. "What is this?" you ponder quietly before turning to him. "Why is there blood on your cuff here?"
He saunters over, giving you that devilishly handsome smile and taking the shirt from your hands, "Perhaps I nicked myself on something." His tone is nonchalant as he goes back to getting ready.
It has you suspicious, but you decide to shrug it off.
Outside in the stables finally, Terzo helps you up on your steed before mounting his own. He looks you over as if sizing up a meal, admiring the way you'd really risen to the challenge of fleeing your home.
"What's that look for?" you giggle at him.
"Just observing what I didn't get to have a taste of last night," he smirks.
The objectification makes you blush and wish you hadn't gotten so in your own head after leaving the tavern. But before you can snap a quick remark, a few men, including the tavern owner, return from the treeline, shovels in hand. You notice Terzo nod a knowing look at them.
𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘣𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘥𝘥𝘭𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵?
Thinking on it for a few seconds, you piece the clues together, but decide now isn't the time to ask. Instead, you whip your horse's reins, running away from your problems once again.
• •
Settled in by the hearth after a delicious dinner with some friends of Terzo's, you lean into the man's chest as the mother of the household reads to everyone. It's a lovely story that the family had been working through together, but you only understand bits and pieces of the Italian lilting though the room. Instead you opt to mostly enjoy the comfortable silence between you and your lover, contentedly listening to his heartbeat.
This well-to-do family had a room to offer you for the night, refuge from the winding paths in the mountains, and secrecy from those who might come looking for you. Luckily, you hadn't encountered any more of your father's knights since the last town a few days ago, and you hoped you wouldn't… for their sake, especially if Terzo did what you think he did.
"Tesoro?" his voice pulls you from your thoughts as you undress for bed.
"Hm?" you turn to him.
Dramatically, he steps across the room, shirt hanging open, as he cups your cheeks in his large hands, fingertips tracing your earlobe and jawline. "Are you alright, cara mia? You've been unlike yourself the past few days, not talking as much. Have I done something to upset you?"
His last question was right on the mark, if your suspicions were correct. "Did… Did you kill those knights in the last town?" your lip quivers and you start to tear up, confronting the guilt you'd been trying to ignore since then.
"Sì, amore, I did," he starts, and as you begin to interject, he continues, "but I did it for you."
"Do not use me as an excuse, Alessandro! Why would you do it?!" Anger starts to replace your tears.
"Amore… I would do 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 for you. I did it to keep us safe! You were right when you said that those knights could catch us. I had given myself a false sense of security being in a familiar place with familiar faces." He steps back, allowing you the space to process his words.
His explanation was plainly honest, simple, didn't beat around the bush. Yet, it still vexes you that you know hardly a thing about his position, where you're going, why he has to be so secretive. And now he's killed your father's knights twice to keep you out of their grasp. You can't help but question his intentions since your stay in the last town…
"You would do anything for me?" you repeat, voice small.
"Sì. Anything. Everything, principessa! I want to marry you, amore, give you as many piccoli bambini as you want! I would do anything to have you and to love you for eternity… even killing those knights to know they won't take you from my arms." As he verbalizes his dedication to you, his emotions swell, causing the pendant on your neck to glow once again, letting you feel just how much he means it.
Perhaps you'd gotten in your own head once again.
Your fingers trace across the emerald as they often did. "Marry me?" is all you can utter.
"Certo che," (Of course,) he whispers, lashes wet as he moves to hold you close to him again. "Ti amo così tanto, bella mia." (I love you so much, beautiful.)
"I love you, too," you mumble into his chest, but then look up at him, "I think I've wanted to marry you since the moment you held that knife to my throat."
You both share small chuckle, noses nuzzled together, Terzo's fingers dancing in your hair as the moonlight spills in through the little window. Softly, he presses a kiss to your lips, relieved that you aren't angry with him anymore. He had feared he would lose you over his own actions rather than anything taking you from him.
"But," you start, and his eyes quickly flick to meet yours, "it's time you tell me the truth."
"Cara mia, we are only two days away-"
"Exactly, Alé. Don't you think I should know what I'm getting into? Who I'll be around? What you're involved in? I've been very patient, and I've put all my trust in you, amore. Nothing you have to say could change my feelings about us," you press him, but also reassure him.
Deep down, he knows you're right yet again. While it would be the safest option to wait until you have arrived at the Abbey, he can't expect you to walk into this blindly. "Okie dokie, principessa, where would you like to start?"
You pause, the realization dawning on you that you finally get to ask the millions of questions you've had. Naturally, your mind goes blank, only coming up with one simple but open ended question. "Who are you?"
The man before you chuckles as he guides you to sit on the plush bed with him. "Tesoro, you know who I am… Truthfully, you know me better than most."
"Terz- Alessandro," you start, unsure what you should call him in your mild irritation at that answer, "Who are you? What's your title? Are you important in… wherever we're going? Where are we going? Is it a kingdom? Who's the ruler there? What's it like?" The dam broke and all the questions leave you in a rush.
"Principessa," he stops the flood. "My name is Alessandro Terzo Emeritus. As for the rest of your questions, perhaps I should start where you ended." He takes your hands in his, clearing his throat. "My home is bellissima. It's not like any place you've ever seen. It's an Abbey, secluded away from the world around it. Peaceful. It's peaceful and protected there."
"What are you protecting?" you quietly interject.
He chuckles before continuing. "Our way of life, cara mia. We are a people of liberation, free will, acceptance. In structure, it is not a kingdom; however, it is not unlike the Catholicism you grew up knowing, but without all the rules. We have loyal followers, we have ministry workers, a clergy."
You sit in silence, his explanation only leading you to a million 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 questions.
"But you see, bella, we are not like Christianity in our spirituality. It's not something most are born into, it is something that is found. We have many of the tenets you are familiar with from your father's religion without all that silly worry about sin…"
You can tell he is hesitant to come out and say it. This is the thing that isn't safe to know. You wonder if it isn't safe because of how you'll feel about it or if it really could bring you danger for knowing about it.
Both is the answer.
"Cara mia, I am a part of the Church of Satan."
Again, silence falls over the room as you collect your thoughts. "Well… It's alright if you practice a different religion. I haven't felt particularly close to my own lately. So you live in this ministry? Do all of the followers live there?"
He gives you a half smile at your naivety. "No, bella, typically our followers do not all live there. Some come seeking refuge, but they do not have to stay, though many who do become Siblings of Sin."
"Siblings of Sin?" you repeat, "Are those like nuns?"
He chuckles again, nodding at you.
"So are you a… Brother of Sin?"
Another smile. And another thing he loves about you: your curiosity far outweighs your need to judge anyone.
"No, again. I am in the clergy. I am one of the few that is raised in the religion, although we are welcome to leave should we choose. My whole life I've been molded to be its leader, and the time is coming soon, which is why I set out to find you, amore."
"Me? The leader? What does that have to do with me?" you are genuinely concerned.
"Perhaps my wording was cryptic, mi dispiace. I just mean to say that once I am in charge, I won't have much time to be away from my duties, so I set out to find love before that time comes." Your lover cups your cheek, basking in how gorgeous you look in the pale moonlight.
"Oh," you smile, relieved. "So… You will be- the Pope? If it's like Catholicism."
"Sì. Papa. Papa Emeritus the Third, preceded by mio fratello, Papa Emeritus the Second, or Secondo when he's being a stronzo," he rolls his eyes at the thought, and you can't help but picture the sibling rivalry.
Somehow you've just found out he's the Antipope, opposite your religion, and all you find yourself thinking about is that he has a brother, maybe even two if there is a Papa Emeritus the First. Then you remember the letter from his mom… His whole family is waiting for him back home, and you can't wait to meet them!
Suddenly, you let out a sob, biting your lip and looking up at him through watery eyes. Hugging him tightly and crying into his chest, you hear him tell you, "I understand if it is all too much. I understand if you do not wish to be bound to me, mia dea. I do still hope you'll come along with me; you'll be safe there, no matter your beliefs. We can just be lovers, even if you never want more, amore, I'll understand."
Sniffling as you wipe your tears away, you search for your favorite mismatched eyes, "What do you mean, Alé? I'm happy. I'm finally happy, don't you see?" You hold his face in your hands, nuzzling noses once again. "It isn't lost on me the irony that I left the king of one religion just to please another, but at least I did it of my own accord. You gave me the choice, and that is what makes me love you, Alessandro Terzo Emeritus. You may have set me free… But my only wish is to be bound to you, eternally." Another pause, "Forever yours, nocturnal me. Just like your song, right?"
Sincerity is written across his face at your words; with an arm wrapped around your waist, he pulls you to straddle his lap, "𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 song," he tells you before his lips crash into yours.
• •
Sun now spills in the room as your eyes squint open. Slumped down into the cushiony bed, your body thoroughly relaxed from the way he worked every tension from your aching body last night, you find it hard to even move. But turning to find an empty spot next to you, motivation to once again be close to your lover encourages your feet to carry you through getting dressed and finding him at the dining table with the family hosting you.
Peeking through the doorway, you watch as he throws his head back in laughter, joking with one of the little boys, making him squeal and giggle. You wonder what he'll be like as a father to his own one day.
"What are you smiling at, tesoro? Come, sit," Terzo stands, pulling out a chair for you.
"Thank you," you tell him, sitting at the table with everyone.
Breakfast is delicious, and you're so grateful for the warm meals and hot bath and soft bed this family has offered you. Between table chatter, a small broach on the mother's dress catches your eye.
"Is everything alright, dear?" she asks, clearly catching you staring at it.
"Oh! Apologies, my apologies. I just spotted your pin… What does it mean?" you cringe at your own bad manners.
"Oh!" she also exclaims, "My Grucifix?" The mother runs her fingers over it almost affectionately. "Terzo… You've done a poor job informing the girl where you're taking her!" She jokes lightheartedly.
"We discussed everything late last night," he gently squeezes your hand. "I just haven't had a chance to… Show her everything: the symbolism, scriptures-"
"Your paints?" The mother asks excitedly.
You offer a confused look. 𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘴? 𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘛𝘦𝘳𝘻𝘰 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘪𝘰𝘯?
"No, I-" Terzo starts but is interrupted again.
"Honey," the father of the family smiles at his wife, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Let them move at their own pace."
You and Terzo both silently sigh your relief. He wants to tell you more, but not now.
"So, you all are followers of Terzo's Church then?" you ask, not really sure how to word it.
"My husband and I are, the children will be allowed to decide for themselves if that's what they would like to believe," the mother answers softly. "This is the symbol of Papa's church specifically, to answer your earlier question, dear."
You spend the rest of breakfast happily chatting away before having to return to the journey at hand.
"Mm, can't we stay, Alé?" you groan into his shoulder after he affixes your horse's saddle.
Hugging you lazily, he kisses your forehead, "I would dare say we could… If I weren't so concerned about delivering us home, amore mio."
"Do you think they'll like me there?" you ponder out loud.
"Like you? Tesoro, they'll adore you. Some will even wish they could be you." He looks you over amorously.
"I'll be that important, huh?" You offer him a smile.
"Oh, sì, sì. As my Prime Mover, everyone will look to you as a beacon of warmth and understanding."
His answer makes you a little nervous. You hadn't really thought about his followers also looking up to you; women don't really have a position in Catholicism, other than nuns. Now his words from last night about not wanting to be bound to him make sense.
"Prime Mover…" You won't let the challenge scare you away. "I hope I can do the position, and you, the justice it deserves," you nod your head reassuringly, kissing him softly several times.
Hesitantly, he pulls away from you. "Mm, tesoro, while I could kiss you all day, we must go," he reminds you, before helping you on your horse for the millionth time in the past few weeks.
• •
Sun was setting, leaving long dramatic shadows cast across the first floor by the tall trees. Terzo is so excited, he can hardly contain it. You're close to your final destination and it hardly feels real. Traveling with him is all you'd known thus far.
"THERE!" He points suddenly, and you're not even sure what he pointed at before he sharply commands his horse to a gallop, spooking yours into doing the same!
You may have let out a scream struggling to hold onto your horse, "Terzo?! What are you doing??!"
"Look, cara mia! Casa!" Home. It's finally within his grasp.
You come up on the beautiful brick abbey at full speed; with it's towering spires and winding vines, it casts some interesting shadows at sunset. Stunning, nonetheless.
Some tall stocky men in silver masks run out of a side door at full sprint. Upon the terrace, Terzo abruptly stops his horse and flies from the saddle, directly towards the largest man. "Omega!" he chirps as they practically slam their bodies against one another in a fierce hug.
Slowing your horse to a halt, unlike your lover, you patiently wait for the men to greet one another. They were clearly all very close. The one called Omega almost acted like an obedient dog thrilled to see his owner after so long and needing a good scratch behind the ears. Observing the devilish look of their masks and the mysterious way they move, a whole new list of questions comes to mind.
"Mamma!" Terzo running towards an older woman with long black wavy hair catches your attention. She has beautiful with warm green eyes; must be where he gets his from.
"Alessandro, how I've missed you!" she exclaims, covering his face in kisses and holding him tightly. He giggles at her, and in that moment, he looks like a happy and well-loved child. "Is this her, Alessandro? The one you've been looking for?" It shifts all the attention toward you, still perched on your dappled horse.
"Sì, Mamma, this is my love," Terzo turns, making his way over to assist you to the ground. He holds your hands, looking into your eyes to make sure you're not overwhelmed. All he finds there is happiness. He brings you over and introduces you by name and title, "Amore, this is mia mamma, Felìcita."
"Buonasera, è un piacere incontrarti," (Good evening, it's a pleasure to meet you,) you greet her just like you'd practiced, wanting to make a good impression.
"Ah, ragazza dolce, mio figlio taught you well, didn't he?" she replies with a laugh and a kiss on each cheek. "Did he give you this haircut, too?" She holds a couple of uneven strands between her fingers. You just laugh and nod. "Ah, don't worry, cara, we'll get you all cleaned up here." Her smile is so inviting and her conversation so charming, you see the influence she's has on Alé.
"Bella mia?" Terzo pulls you from your thoughts, "I'd like you to meet my ghouls."
"Ghouls?" you repeat.
"Sì, Alpha," he gestures to the one on his left. "And Omega," he pats the shoulder of the one on his right.
You're not sure how you'll ever tell them apart. "Nice to meet you both," you hold out a hand for either one to shake. Alpha takes you up on the offer, immediately pulling you close, taking you by surprise. He nuzzles his head in the crook of your neck and a strong appendage wraps tightly around you: a tail. Trying to keep your face as unreadable as possible while you take in his inhuman features, you start to hear a soft purring next to your ear.
"Alpha, scendi! You'll scare her," Terzo commands.
"Alé, it's okay," you tell him, wrapping your arms around the large man's waist, which only increases the noises coming from him.
"Alé?" Omega chucks, elbowing your lover.
"Stai zitto, demone!" (Shut up, demon!) he hisses in return. Their dynamic is pretty funny.
Alpha pulls away from your hug cheery eyed as he quietly tells you, "Il bambino è al caldo e al sicuro." (The baby is warm and safe.)
"Bambino?!" Terzo nearly shouts.
"Si, signore, she carries your child," Alpha tells him.
"Tesoro?" your lover's eyebrows immediately turn upward at the realization, "Did you suspect this?"
"I just- I thought I was only tired from being on horseback so much… I had no idea," you explain, feeling like you need to sit down.
As if reading your mind, Alessandro is there to support you. "Amore…" He gently places his hand on your stomach, "You will make una bella mamma!" Nuzzling your nose, as had become a consistent thing from him, tears prick at his eyes.
"Mi scusi, but if this is the case," Felìcita addresses you, "we should get you inside for a warm meal, sì? I won't have mio nipote go hungry!"
• •
You'd pretty much spent the last 36 hours sleeping… and eating, of course. Italian hospitality dictates that you will not go hungry. Cracking your eyes open just long enough to wiggle under your lover's arm and lay your head on his chest, you nestle right back in to go to sleep.
Terzo groans dramatically and grumbles, "Amore, we can't sleep forever, as good as it feels…"
You had been fortunate enough to be mostly left alone since you'd arrived at the Abbey, and you'd both used the time to rest after such a hard expedition into Italy, especially you and the baby.
"How did Alpha know?" you ask, eyes still closed as you listen to the man's heartbeat.
"The ghouls, they… they feel things. Almost like they're connected to those around them." His fingers trace shapes across your scalp, only serving to push you further back into your slumber.
But curiosity gets the best of you again, as you sit up, leaning over your lover. "Like the emerald you gave me? How it makes me feel what you feel?"
He smiles, "Sì, but the ghouls are much more… sensitive. Hence why I couldn't tell you are pregnant, despite the pendant."
"So you 𝘥𝘪𝘥 do something to it!" you accuse him, proud for finally cracking it.
He chuckles at your little game, "Sì, how else was I suppose to lure you in?" His hand in your hair pulls you down for a kiss.
"Perhaps with the endless thoughts I had of you every day after you kissed me," you drag a finger down his bare chest. "Although that was something entirely out of your control," you wink at him.
"Sì, well, I do like to keep you under my control, cara mia," his morning voice growls in your ear.
"Oh, are you going to put me under another spell, lover?" you giggle, playing with his chest hair.
"Mmm, one where the only word to fall off your lips is my name…" Terzo sits up, flipping you onto your back and pinning your hands above your head.
"Which one?" you playfully rebut.
"I'll allow you to decide this," it's his turn to wink as his lips find your jaw, working on all the sweet spots he knows so well.
"Mmm… Terzo," you sigh into his touch.
His hands snake under your nightgown, leaving your hands resting above your head. "Is that the one you choose, cara?" Resting his fingers on your panties, he starts to rub against your bundle of nerves.
You feign thinking about it as you writhe against his hand. "Oh no… I might pick another," you tease.
He leaves a sizable love bite at your collarbone, sucking his mark into your skin while his fingers dip beneath the fabric impeding them. His hard cock, unfortunately concealed by his sleeping pants, presses against your thigh, so you gently move your leg back and forth to offer him some relief. Before long, evidence of his lust seeps though the thin fabric.
"Dolcezza…" he whispers right in your ear before nibbling on it as well, eliciting a moan from you. One of his fingers moves further down to hint at your entrance.
You inhale sharply, "Please, Alé," you whine.
"Alé? Or will it be Alessandro?" he flirts, allowing that digit to slip into you, making quick work of curling it to find your other sweet spot.
"Mmm…" you knit your eyebrows together, "mm- I- please."
"Please what, mia dea?" He adds another finger. "You must decide on a name for me, since you insist I have too many…"
"Please," you struggle against his ministrations, especially when his free hand comes to tease at you nipple. "Please… Papa."
His eyebrows perk up at that one, and his hands pause for a moment, almost imperceptibly. "Tesoro, I am not Papa yet," he scoffs.
"You will be one day, no?" Now it's your turn to give him the devious look he normally has in his eye. "Plus… You'll be Papa to this little one very soon," you gesture by rubbing your belly just above where his hands work on you.
With that, all his restraint is lost, obvious in the way he pounces back on top of you, attacking your mouth with his and ripping your undergarments from your flesh. "Allow me to remind you how I put il mio piccolo inside you, then," he growls, pushing his own pants down to his knees before hiking your legs up around his waist.
Your hands finally move to claw at his back with him now on top of you. Feeling his length being slicked up in your folds, he gives no warning before pushing in right to the hilt. The scream it drags from you could probably wake the dead!
"Say it again," your lover commands darkly before snapping his hips into you again.
"P-uhh…" is all you manage.
Sitting up, his fingers harshly grab your chin, forcing you to look at him. "Say it. Again." This time through gritted teeth.
"Papa! Please, fuck me Papa!" you beg.
"Brava ragazza," he praises you. "Now, legs up here," he taps his collarbones, giving you little time before he's hoisting them up himself, hooking your knees on his shoulders. Falling back on top of you, you feel absolutely folded in half as his cock presses deep against your walls.
"Oh, Papa!" you whimper, feeling his tip drag against that sweet spot.
He places his weight on his elbows, fingers tangling in your hair, and he aligns his knees on either side of your hips. Carefully at first, he lifts his hips before dropping back down into you. When it earns a gasp from you, he does it again, and again, falling into a dangerous rhythm.
You whine and moan for him over and over again, having to fight back your climax already as he attacks your most sensitive spot. Fingernails scratch at his sides as he pounds into you, and you try to keep your knees from knocking against your head.
"Bellissima, cara mia, you take il mio cazzo so well…" he grunts out, already getting close as well. "Sei bellissima sotto di me." (You look beautiful underneath me.) The soft kiss he presses to your lips is a sharp juxtaposition to his ministrations.
Your urge your heels into his back, opening your mouth for more, and he doesn't disappoint as his tongue does its familiar dance with yours. "P-Papa…" you break the kiss, "I'm, I'm-"
"Vieni per me, principessa, vieni sul mio cazzo," he allows you your release; gently his hand squeezes at your airway as his hips roughly snap into your tight wet heat.
The lack of air only serves to heighten your pleasure as your orgasm rolls through you, causing your legs to shake thunderously beneath his weight. "PAPA!" you scream his soon-to-be title endlessly, the spell he joked about earlier coming true.
Holding off just long enough to work you through your climax, he thrusts into you one last time and you feel Terzo's cock kick, spilling his seed inside you. "Satanas, amore… Ti amo… Amo la tua figa," (Satanas, love… I love you… I love your pussy.) he huffs out, still pressing into you as you both come down from your high.
You share a laugh at his lewd comment, and he bumps his nose against yours before sitting up and slipping out of you before carefully helping to unfold your legs. Climbing over you once again, his thumbs massage your hips, wanting to help release any tension there. "How's that, cara?"
"Mm, feels good, Papa, thank you," you relax under his touch, eyes fluttering closed.
"Bene," he giggles, "you don't have to call me Papa anymore, tesoro."
"What if I like it?" you smirk.
"Then you may call me what you like," he says, magic fingers still working your tense muscles. "But maybe not in front of miei fratelli… It could make them feel jealous." He gives you a little wink.
• •
What would've under most circumstances been a stressful day, was actually pretty easy going. Being with your lover had a way of keeping you calm and content, even as you met the rest of his family and the upper clergy members.
It was lunch with his brothers, Primo and Secondo, and father, Nihil. You felt it odd that his mother was left out, but that would be a conversation for later. The rest of the afternoon was filled with meetings, some being introductions and others were to discuss preparing you for your Prime Mover ritual. There would be a lot to learn, but you feel confident with Alessandro by your side.
"Amore," he catches your attention with a kiss to the cheek. You're back in his chambers getting ready for Mass tonight; Secondo would be leading it, and it's your first one, so you're nervous but excited. "I regret to have to leave you alone while I go dress for Mass tonight, will you be alright without me? Of course, you'll have Sister Beth here to help with anything you could need."
"I'll be fine, my love. Besides, I'm not really alone, am I?" You place his hand on your belly and nod towards the Sister diligently waiting to assist you. "I'll see you in the chapel," you give his hand a squeeze and his nose a kiss.
After your lover dismisses himself, Beth is very patient in helping you get ready and answering any questions that come mind about tonight's mass. She's not unlike your handmaiden back home.
𝘏𝘰𝘮𝘦.
You hadn't really allowed yourself to think about the place you grew up in. It wasn't exactly home anymore…
"Are you alright, Miss?" Beth rips you from your reminiscing.
Quickly peeking in the looking glass and wiping away tears, you respond, "Yes! Yes, I'm fine, Beth. Thank you for asking." You hope the panic isn't obvious on your face.
"Of course, Miss." She nods knowingly and goes back to styling your hair, twisting and smoothing the strands expertly.
"Beth…" It escapes you before you can stop it.
"Yes, Miss?" She glances at your reflection, continuing her work.
"Do you enjoy it here? You weren't raised here, were you? I mean- My apologies, Beth. I've overstepped." You internally cringe at how your curiousity leaps all boundaries.
"It's quite alright, milady," she softly reassures you, "Must be nerve-wracking coming to a new place, and being plopped in a high up position at that. I was nervous too when I arrived on the front stoop. This is the only place I've felt fully accepted as I am, imperfections and all." She has a sense of pride on her face. "Be honest and true to yourself and everyone here will have no choice but to accept you. Surely, since you were charming enough to catch the eye of Cavaliere Terzo."
"Cavaliere?" you question.
"Oh yes, he's so sought after here at the Abbey. I should prepare you by saying that nearly all the Siblings get a little weak in the knees in his presence."
The idea of everyone having their little flirtations with your lover doesn't bother you… But 𝘊𝘢𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘳𝘦? 𝘚𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘺 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯… 𝘋𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦?
"I'm sorry, Miss, if I've upset you. I just thought it better that you know how everyone will act around him," Beth softly apologizes.
"No, no, it's not you. Or the wandering eyes. What does Cavaliere mean?"
"Oh! Just that he's a knight. One of our finest, actually. Great on horseback, and you should see him with a sword, Miss! He's very skilled at taking down his opponents during practices and tournaments."
"Oh my… He's never mentioned it to me," you ponder, baffled at this news.
"Well, of course! How else would he have survived so long traveling through the mountains and Satan knows where else?" She sounds so chipper; she must have a small crush on him too.
"And how long was he gone? I've only been traveling with him for just over a fortnight," maybe now you're prying.
"Nearly a year, Miss." Beth smiles, placing an ornate clip in your hair. "Finished! How do you like it?"
"It's bellissima, Beth. Thank you," you nod at her, appreciating her hard work.
"Already getting comfortable with Italian? The family will like that," she reassures you with a pat on the shoulder, before exiting to the bedroom to prepare your gown for this evening.
Staring into the looking glass, head reeling from all the new information, you think about Alessandro's letter from his mother.
𝘈 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳? 𝘕𝘰 𝘸𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘦?
The realization makes you feel almost insignificant, like there is a much bigger power at work here, but simultaneously makes you feel very special. Thinking on the way he didn't want you to feel trapped coming here, his mother not wanting him to come back until he found love, the sins he committed to get you here safely… It puts things in a different perspective, like all the puzzle pieces are starting to fit together. You know you've made the right choice with him and that you weren't just swept up in your feelings.
𝘏𝘦 𝘪𝘴… 𝘏𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘢𝘭𝘷𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯.
• •
The grand halls surrounding the the chapel are absolutely packed as everyone greets one another, waiting for sunset. Beth stays right by your side, not wanting you to get lost in the sea of people; you had no idea this many people could even fit in this place.
"Ah, Sorella, buonasera," you hear a soft voice over your shoulder: Primo.
Secondo follows with, "How are you and il piccolo, doing?" Despite his gruff nature, you're quickly learning he's really a big softie, especially towards beautiful women and babies. You aren't even that far along, but everyone in the family seems so excited about the prospect of another little one.
"We're doing well, thank you both," you greet them offering them both a kiss on the cheek, careful not to mess up their papal paints. It's an unconventional look for certain, but their full formal regalia indeed commands the respect they deserve.
The two dismiss themselves into the chapel, leaving everyone else outside to wait for the doors to open.
"Where do you think Terzo is?" you nudge Beth lightly.
"Oh, he's over there, Miss," she points to a particularly dense crowd of people.
𝘎𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘫𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘱𝘰𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘳 𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴.
The girl seems to nervously fidget with her habit, eagerly watching the scene before her intently.
"Do you want to go see him, too?" you smile at her, and she replies with a shy nod. "It's alright, go ahead," you smile your approval.
As your handmaiden slips into the gathering, you giggle to yourself, thinking about how he must really get slowed down trying to go anywhere. From your spot by the chapel doors, you see that familiar mop of hair, but notice that he stands a little taller, chest puffed out a bit more. Seeing the ornate black and gold pauldron on his shoulder gives you a hint of his knightly attire.
Silently observing as people shake his hand, offer him hugs and even hand them their babies, it's not unlike watching a soldier who's come home from war to be greeted by those that care for him. However, when he notices Beth standing near him, his head turns, looking around for you. His face is covered in a stark black and white skeleton designs, similar to his brothers. If it weren't for the way his eyes wandered your body upon spotting you, you almost wouldn't have recognized him.
In an effort to politely slip away from his devoted flock, he kisses a few ladies' knuckles, and bids them farewell for now, turning all his attention towards you leaning against the wall, patiently waiting.
Drinking in his finely crafted artisan armor as he ambles over, you give him a wink, appreciating this new look on him. The black of his armor ties in well with his face paint and dark locks, while the gold only serves to make him stand out amongst everyone else.
"Mm, amore," he grunts, taking your hand. "You look assolutamente divino in this gown. Violet is a favorite of mine, especially seeing it on you, dolcezza." He lifts your chin with his fingers, gracing his thumb over your lower lip.
"You never told me you are a knight, 𝘊𝘢𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘛𝘦𝘳𝘻𝘰…" you feign irritation at him.
"Aye, some things must remain a surprise, sì?" Clearly being back home and returning to his high position has given him a whole new air of confidence.
"I worry to see what other 'surprises' you have in mind, caro," you giggle.
He wraps an arm around the small of your back, the hard metal firmly pressing against your skin, and pulls you in for a what feels like an inappropriate kiss to share in front of the whole congregation.
Luckily, the doors to the chapel open, saving you from any further public displays with your partner; you were already receiving some looks from a few of the Sisters just for kissing him.
"Ready for your first Black Mass, principessa?" Alessandro offers you his elbow, guiding you to the front pew to sit alongside him and his mother, who gives your hand a reassuring squeeze.
After this, you know there will be no turning back. Your old life is nothing but a memory now.
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