#Shatsome | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

illumwriting · 2 years

Text

live hard, die young (revised)

a little thing that got way out of hand. based on sparxflame’s lovely responses. huge warnings for character death, blood, violence. heavy references to shatsome. 2,850 words.

They dump a twitching and barely conscious Strife on Kirin’s back doorstep, wrapped in a ragged blanket and peel out of the alley in Smith’s car of the month, faces drawn. “Guys, just let them take me-” Smith starts, and Trott snarls no so fast Smith doesn’t try to argue.

Sips greets them at the door, his smile wide as ever and the smell of half burnt pizza coming from the kitchen. His face falls as he sees Smith’s pale face, and the terror flitting behind Trott’s eyes.

“Ross?” Sips asks slowly as he lets them in and locks the door behind them, watches Ross’s stony form shake almost imperceptibly. Smith has fled to the upstairs and Sips can hear things being thrown, punctuated by gritted shouts of profanity. Trott meets Ross’s eyes and nods, and Ross runs up after Smith, the banging slowly fading.

“We need to go, Sips.” Trott’s voice is raw, and his hands are still stained from the mix of redstone and blood he’d tried to wipe off Strife’s face.

“Trotty-” Sips protests, but the deadness in Trott’s face makes Sips realize this is no game. “Am I gonna need anything?” Trott glances around their shared home, his face drawn. “Your warmest jacket. Any weapon. You have about 10 minutes.”

There’s another crash from overhead and a raw cry of anger, Sips can’t tell who. He just nods and starts digging in the front closet for anything that might fit him as his head spins with the possibilities of what might have happened. Smiffy not speaking, even Ross frightened. The boys had just gone out for a jaunt with Strife…

Oh, fuck.

Trott wrings his hands together and drags his skin slowly off the back of the couch, slinging it over his shoulders with a labored sigh. Ross and Smith thunder down the stairs, an angry light of self-hatred in Smith’s eyes and a pained resignation in Ross’s.

“I don’t know when they’ll start looking for us.” Trott says as they gather in the entryway, Ross handing a thick strip of leather to Sips who takes it with a questioning look. “As soon as they come, I’ll lead them to the water.”

Smith dips his head in a nod. His lips are pressed together thinly.

“But-” Ross starts to protest, and Trott stares him down, eyes full of sorrow and the thought of loss. “Protect Sips.” Trott mandates, struggling to keep his voice steady.

Smith utters a cry of frustrated anguish and rips open the door.

They’re still in Smith’s car when the horns sound, not even a full hour outside of the city yet. Sips knows what’s going on now, and hates the way he can see it eat at his court. “C’mon guys!” he says from the backseat where he sits with Ross. “We’ll make sunrise, I know it.”

No-one says anything back and Smith jams his foot down harder on the pedal as if it will make the car go past its limits.

“We’re sorry.” Ross murmurs in Sips’ ear as the car starts to sputter and they hear the pounding on the road that’s been following for at least the past mile now start to grow louder. “We were supposed to protect you-” Sips stops him, running a hand across the ridges on Ross’s neck.

Smith suddenly swerves off the road, banking the car harshly down the edge and onto the mud by the river, no care for the way the branches scratch it.

“I’m gonna miss you idiots.” Sips says when the car stops bouncing, and then Trott is yanking them both out of the backseat.

“We need to go, now.” Trott hisses. “Ross, you fly, far as you can ahead. The old shack, by the river. Stay there, they don’t know about it.”

Smith is dropping dark red boxes into the car, and Sips feels the sickness in his stomach well. The pounding is getting closer. Trott stands before Sips, head bowed in one last act of love and subservice to his king. “I’m sorry.” He says.

Sips kisses the top of his head. Feels the softness of his lovely servant's hair one more time. “Go.” He releases Trott, and thinks he sees tears past the hardened resolution in Trott’s face as the selkie takes off on foot towards the water and the pounding follows him.

“Come and get me, you bastards!” Trott screams, and Sips weakly smiles at the silhouetted middle fingers Trott holds high.

“Come on.” Smith whispers softly as soon as the murderous mob passes. “Get on my back, before the fuses burn out.”

“What?” Sips says, and Smith just huffs and reaches into Sips’ pocket and pulls out the leather strip, hanging it around his neck so the ends trail down is back and kneels on the ground, facing away from Sips.

“Grab it and hold the fuck on.” Smith urges him as Trott’s whooping fades out in the distance. Sips obeys, and suddenly Smith is shifting, wet and wild as he becomes a steed for their king.

“Woah.” Sips says, and the rest of his words are lost to the wind as Smith gallops into the tree line and away from the rocking explosion behind them.

————

“Fuck you.” Trott spits out the sand in his mouth onto the ground, mucky and stained with blood. They’d caught him with an aggravating ease thanks to modern weapons, shot at him with harpoons and arrows and double-barreled shotguns, hauled him out of the water and ripped his skin from him with searing magic. He’s without clothes now and bleeding from his side where the broken remains of a spear still stick out, on his knees in front of Kirin- Kirin, the fae lord of the whole city. His hunting party holds Trott’s pelt, ready to desecrate it.

“Burn it.” Kirin says, never taking his eyes off Trott. Trott doesn’t falter from his disrespectful manners, even though he knows what’s coming. “Where are they, selkie?”

“I hope you rot in the witch’s domain.” Trott flashes his teeth, bloodstained from ripping enemies to bits in the water before his face contorts into sharp pain as the fae light his skin on fire.

“Harsh words.” Kirin muses, gripping Trott’s chin. “And you sacrificed yourself for nothing.” Trott spits again in his agony, right into Kirin’s face even as he can feel himself burning alive from the inside out.

Kirin drops Trott back to the sand of the beach, wiping his face off with disgust and watches the selkie writhe until his seal skin is almost all burnt to ash before driving his sword through Trott’s heart to the fae’s cries of “No Mercy!”

———————

They hear the cheering float all the way down the river, clinging to each other in the ruins of a house where Smith first stole Ross away. They all feel it, like a hot iron to their souls. “Fuck!” Smith's voice cracks sharply as he sobs. His hair hangs wet in front of his face, his clothes rendered useless and waterlogged.

They’re not quite sure what to do then, as they hear the rhythmic pounding of the pack on the Hunt again, and Sips curls his fist in the hem of Ross’s shirt.

“Go.” Ross says quietly, and Smith and Sips stare at him as the gargoyle disentangles himself and stands. Smith opens to his mouth to protest, and Ross cuts him off. “Smith, go. Take Sips and get as far away as you can, don’t stop. You know you can’t carry us both on your back.”

“Come here.” Sips says gruffly, standing too and pulling Ross in towards him, hugging Ross tightly and breathing in the scent of fresh paved roads and dust and the hint of saltwater that came from Trott that still lingers on Ross’s clothes.

Smith presses the last of the explosives and a remote detonator into Ross’s hands and kisses him. “Thank you for stealing me.” Ross says, and then watches as Smith and Sips disappear into the night, sweeping over the few human tracks Sips leaves.

“Hey assholes!” Ross booms into the night when the two have gotten well away, and hears the pounding swerve to draw close to him.

————

Ross goes out in a blaze, like the church he was once bound to. Rigs the shack with explosives and gets as many as he can to come in, stabbing with his tail and shredding with his claws until the ratty couch where he and Smith had bound themselves to each other is surrounded by the downed corpses.

He tires all too soon, made of stone almost as old as Kirin and of borrowed fragments that were never truly meant to be a part of him. They jump him, pin him down and take delight in ripping the gems from his body that Honeydew had given him to repair himself with. He waits until he hears Kirin come up the stairs and then whaps his tail onto the button he’d kept hidden under the couch.

Kirin finds him in the rubble, burnt and charred fae around him, his right arm broken off into concrete dust and the rest of him trapped under rubble.

“You were my favorite.” Kirin says softly, kneeling beside Ross, who coughs ash from his mouth and looks weakly at Kirin with blue eyes that are fading to dull grey.

“Eat shit.” Ross grinds out, his voice raspy and he coughs again, trying to free himself from the smoldering beams on top of him. Kirins tsks at him, and holds a scrap of-

Oh stars above- Ross thinks-

fur in front of his face. “Trott decided to go the hard way out.”

Ross grits his teeth, exhales slowly even though he knows he doesn’t need to breathe at all. “The witch will use your bones for fertilizer.”

Kirin sighs and shake his head at the stubbornness. He cleanly puts his sword through Ross's heart, watching the gargoyle break apart into shards, leaving behind a pair of ripped jeans and shirt that burn quickly in the spreading fire of the shack’s remains. ———————————————-

They’re in a thick forest- it all looks the same to Sips as the trees whip past and he presses himself close to Smith’s mane to keep his face safe from the foliage they crash through.

He can feel Smith falter beneath as they draw out of range of the water, and he can hear the labored breaths as Smith’s form starts to fail him after so much exertion.

“Stop.” Sips whispers into Smith’s ear, and the horse pays no mind, running on. The ground is damp behind them, an easy trail to follow. There is no pounding, no shouting to be heard.

“Smiffy, stop, you’re gonna hurt yourself.” Sips begs again when he feels Smith stumble, hard, and finally Smith stops, and sips slides off his back, letting Smith turn back to human. He’s covered in sweat and his eyes are wild as he gasps for air.

“They got them, oh fuck- Ross is dead, mate-” Smith whimpers, holding his arm where he’d bound himself to Ross and Sips knows Smith isn’t lying with the creeping coldness he feels too.

“We gotta hide.” Sips says, his own voice shaky, and drags Smith after him into the brush, holding the trembling kelpie’s head in his lap.

The night is cold, and the hunters are relentless. It’s just after midnight- or as far as Sips can tell, when the pounding jolts him from his sleep and he shakes Smith awake with a hissed “Shhhh.” Smith sits up and rubs at his tear stained face, staring with wide eyes out into the dark at the lights drawing near.

They stay silent, curled up to each other, Sips drenched by the water and tears that haven't stopped dripping off of Smiffy. The pounding gets close, the wild whoops of creatures who have gone so long without a hunt like this and the roaring noise that sounds like Smith’s cars yet distinctly primeval. Sips shudders, and feels Smith tense against him.

It goes dead quiet, and the lights hold still. Smith bares his teeth at whatever lies outside the brush, a defiant shout growing in the back of his throat. Sips holds Smith’s arm tight and reins him back.

The brush atop of them parts, and Kirin looks down at them. He’s got blood smeared across his beard and he smells thickly of ash and fire. “Found you.” He says and Smith lunges from Sips’ hands, a broken cry rattling out of his throat as he goes straight for Kirin’s neck with a thin blade Sips had carried for him.

Sips stares, helpless and mortal as Smith and Kirin grapple, water spraying around them as Smith drives the knife into Kirin’s upper arm over and over and Kirin wraps his wide hand around Smith’s throat and squeezes until Smith is choking and can’t hold the knife anymore, driving the point of the blade one last time into Kirin’s arm and then trying to pry the fingers from around his throat as he’s shoved to his knees.

“Sips.” Kirin’s voice is commanding, and Sips stands up from the brush slowly, noting the circle that the hunting party has formed around them. “Come here.”

Sips stands his ground, hands shoved in his pockets and slouching. He blames his shaking on the cold air and his soaked jeans and sweatshirt. His cap was long gone to the forest, leaving him feeling exposed. “Let Smiffy breathe.” He drawls, tries to keep the fear out of his voice. He meets Smith’s eyes and Smiffy looks as terrified and angry as Sips feels.

Kirin tosses Smith to the left of him into a tree, hard. “Consider that your dying request.” Kirin says as Smith wheezes and gasps for air. The fae descend on Smith and bind him to the tree with iron rope and Smith wails in pain. Sips shrugs and steps closer, never taking his hands out of his pockets.

“So nice of you.” Sips says flatly. He feels the weight of the small gun in his pocket, the cold metal against his palm. He’s only got one shot.

“Your court harmed my property, severely.” Kirin crosses his arms. There’s just a few feet between the two rulers, despite the power difference.

“Yeah. I’d say you, uh, harmed my property pretty severely too.” Sips tries to laugh, but he feels broken inside. He’s never getting them back.

Kirin reaches into a pocket and holds out his hand. Sips can see a scrap of fur and the glint of something blue. Smith strains at his bindings and wails another outraged cry that is stifled as fabric is stuffed into his mouth.

“If you rescind all ties with them, you’re free to go.” Kirin’s teeth flash unnaturally white as he offers the remnants of Sips’ court to him. “No mercy!” shouts a group of fae and Kirin’s tail lashes in irritation. They fall silent, but Sips finds it in him to sneer at Kirin.

“You fuckin’ think I’m still just a mortal they kidnapped?” Sips tightens his hand around the gun, sees a space between the armor that Kirin wears. “Play by your own rules or don’t play at all.”

He sees Smith out of the corner of his eye, straining, looking angry and proud of his king as Sips whips the little pistol out and shoots. Sips stumbles backwards with the force of the magic-imbued shot, landing on his ass in the muddy grass and watches Kirin stumble backwards too, the fur and shard falling from his hand. The fae shout and Smith struggles to break free in the clamor. Sips stares as Kirin rights himself, and smiles a wide grin and traces over the dent in his armor.

“Bring me the kelpie.” Kirin unsheathes his sword as he stares down Sips with malice, and Sips feels frozen in place as Smith is dragged and forced on his knees in front of Kirin, facing Sips, prone. “Smiffy-” Sips breathes and Smith gives him a tired smile around the gag.

Kirin grabs a handful of Smith’s hair and drags it back until Smith’s neck is bared. Sips feels the fae closing in around him but not touching him, not yet.

“No mercy.” Kirin spits and drives the sword home, through Smith’s back and out through his heart.

Sips stares at the blood on the iron blade, at Smiffy’s face frozen in hatred and hears dimly the sounds of chanting fae as Kirin drops Smith’s body to the ground ands pulls his sword out.

“Last words?” Kirin asks him, and Sips blinks out of his haze, staring up at the fae lord.

“Yeah.” Sips says and sneers again. It's started to rain, and the drops are cool on his skin. He’ll see the others soon, wherever dead assholes like them end up. “Smiffy says the witch is comin, and I say the witch is gonna win. Also, fuck you.”

Kirin slams the blade down into Sips’ heart with no hesitance, and then pulls it out, lifting it high.

The Hunt is over.

#hatfic #yogfic #urban magic yogs #the garbage court #rewrite #sparxflame #swyogs

0 notes

crimsonlark · 8 years

Text

Reprimanding

I wanted to write a wotf fic but I couldn’t bring myself to write anything terrible at the moment, haha. So here’s some UMY smut I’ve been sitting on for a while. :>

Summary: Smith messed with Sips' stuff and now he needs to be punished. Warnings: sex, swears Words: 1441

AO3 link : http://archiveofourown.org/works/6363529/chapters/14576518

It was the evening and Sips had just returned to the crappy apartment he shared with his small fae court. He had a slight scowl on his face as he pulled off his coat and hung it on one of the pegs behind the door. Smith, who was the only one home, spotted his king's sour face.

The kelpie came to greet him and swiftly tried to take his leather jacket from behind Sips. He managed to grab it but Sips easily caught the kelpie by the scruff as he tried to sneak past him out of the flat.

"Now where the fuck do you think you're going, Smiffy?" Sips glared at him, one hand gripping him by the collar, most of the usual humor in his dark eyes gone.

"Out?" The bearded man tried, looking over at his king who was shorter but could be intimidating when he wanted. "C'mon Sips," he whined, "if this is about your car, I didn't mean to scratch it, honestly. It wasn't even my fault!" He struggled a little but held still as soon as he was met with a frighteningly cool glare.

"As your king, I have every right to punish you, you irresponsible sonuvabitch," Sips said in his drawling tone. He tried to keep his voice steady and serious, never before had he used his authority like this on a court member.

He pulled the kelpie back into the apartment and led him into the living room. He put a hand on Smith's shoulder and guided him to his knees by the sofa.

Smith looked at him questioningly as the human sat on the old couch. Sips was their king but he hardly ever acted like he was. He shifted in place, unsure about this new development.

Sips held the serious expression he had for a minute, enjoying watching Smith squirm. He soon broke into his usual smirk as he made quick work of his zipper and pulled himself out of his boxers.

"Well, you know what to do, Kermit." He gestured to his crotch, laughing at the old nickname.

Smith hesitated for a second and then grinned wolfishly, realising Sips wasn't too mad. His tensed shoulders relaxed a bit as he slid his hands up Sips' clothed thighs.

"So this was just a ploy to get me to suck your dick, huh? All you need to do is ask, you dirty bastard," Smith said playfully through gritted teeth, wrapping a hand around his king, his eyes flashing.

"Just shut up and suck, Smiffy," he growled and wove his fingers into Smith's soft locks, pressing his head down. Smith immediately started licking down and around the length of his king who was responding with low moans. Sips was already half hard and it was way too easy to arouse him fully. He smirked as he slowly sucked the tip and mouthed at the head, savoring the sinful noises Sips was making.

"Oh god, I almost forgot how good you are at sucking cock, Smiff," Sips praised, breathing heavily as Smith bobbed in his lap. The kelpie took him all the way in and held there, throat contracting around him, drawing more delicious sounds from the human.

The apartment door banged open causing Smith to jump. Sips chuckled and kept his fingers tight in Smith’s hair who groaned at the pull. Trott and Ross had returned from their various errands and plopped their bags onto the counter.

"Hey, Sips! Have you seen Smith today?" Trott called out from the kitchenette.

"Sure have, buster brown," Sips laughed breathily, looking over the back of the sofa into their small kitchen. He jerked his thumb downwards at Smith's bobbing head. Trott could just see the kelpie’s head over the back of the couch.

"Wow, you kept him from going out tonight? I'm impressed," Trott laughed as he started to put away groceries. Ross had come into the living room and perched on the couch's armrest to watch after he shed his clothing.

"Pshh, you know he can't resist my huge dong, Trotty. He's a grade A slut for my dick," Sips laughed and pulled him off, Smith whining a bit, his face flushed. "I love how you don't even object to me calling you a slut... Wanna see a real show, Ross?" Sips addressed the gargoyle. Ross nodded vigorously, his own arousal starting to show.

Sips had Smith take off his boots and helped him out of his pants and boxers. Smith was about to take off his shirt when Sips told him to leave it on. He loved Smith partially clothed; he was cute in just a shirt and socks. With a gentle tug, Sips directed Smith to lean forwards on the couch, legs spread, and shifted to position himself between Smith’s legs.

Sips reached over to the drawer in the coffee table and pulled out one of the many lube bottles they kept stashed around the flat. He quickly slipped a finger into Smith who was whining loudly from impatience. It was his turn to draw noises from the other man and Smith was always loud.

Trott finished with the groceries and came into the room, taking the chair next to the couch. He unzipped his trousers and began to stroke himself, not able to resist the display in front of him. Trott called Ross over to him, who was still perched on the couch, his hand loosely on his own erection.

Ross slid over to Trott, flashing a smile before returning his attention to the pair on the couch. Trott pulled Ross into the chair where he had been sitting and sat on the gargoyle’s lap. The chair creaked ominously but the two of them ignored it as Sips started to tease Smith.

Sips gripped Smith’s hips, teasing the kelpie by just pressing the tip against him.

“F-fuck…. Sips… c’mon…”

“Ask nicely Smiffy, I know you can...” Sips teased as he ground against him, holding Smith in place.

Smith growled and tried to press against Sips.

Sips tsked and swatted Smith’s ass, enough to make a satisfying smacking noise and a bring a choked groan from Smith.

“Oh gods… fine…. please Sips… I need you in me..” Smith almost growled, trying to sound sincere.

“Good boy,” Sips promptly pressed into Smith who let outa high moan and pressed back against his king. Sips chuckled and grunted as he gripped Smiffy’s hips tighter to start thrusting.

Ross keened as he and Trott stroked each other, watching the brutal pace that Sips took Smith. The usually aggressive kelpie was melting under the touch of their mortal king. The other members of the court were enraptured.

“Oh gods Sips, d-don’t stop,” Smith choked out as Sips slowed his pace.

“Now Smiffy, what did we learn tonight?” Sips said evenly, grinding slowly into Smith who whimpered.

“D-don’t fuck with your shit?” the kelpie tried desperately, needing friction.

“That’s right, good boy,” he gave Smith another little smack and resumed the fast pace of before, ”And don’t. make me. repeat. myself.” Sips emphasized each word with a thrust. He ran a hand down between Smith’s legs who whimpered at his touch.

It wasn't long under the quick pace and Sips' touch that Smith came; Trott and Ross followed soon after, both impressed by the rare display of dominance by their king. Sips was still pushing into Smith as he clenched around him, as always having the most endurance of the group. He leaned down, whispering some sweet, filthy nothings into Smith's ear before finishing in him.

They stayed coupled for a moment, both catching their breaths. Sips rested heavily on Smith’s back before he finally pulled out. He whistled, admiring his hard work and gave Smith's ass one last swat as he stood.

"Thanks Smiff," he panted as he helped the kelpie turn to face him on his knees. His expression suddenly hardened as he looked down at his most rebellious court member, "But seriously, if you scratch my car again, I will fuckin punish you for real."

Smith's eyes widened at the sudden change in mood and quickly nodded in understanding. A tingle trickled down his spine, at the authority in his king’s voice.

"Now just gimme a while and I'll get around to you two jokers," Sips chuckled, his demeanor returning to normal as he tucked himself back into his trousers and flopped onto the couch, remote in hand. Smith curled up next to him and laid his head on his lap as he dosed off contentedly. The other two joined them on the couch, settling in to watch the old game shows that Sips loved.

#umy #yogslash #yogsmut #alsipsy #shatsome #cat writes stuff #i've written sips/trott now i just need to do sips/ross #n//////////n

10 notes · View notes