#wings that fucking burst into flames

[lettucefather]

AS LIGHTNING FALL FROM HEAVEN

#clicked on the link? #bible quote jumpscare! #headpieces that turn from delicate leaves to horns... #wings that fucking burst into flames #unbearable rage so far from divinity #gabriel ultrakill #here's the promised enraged gabriel piece... i still wanna do something full body #but not today #ultrakill #lettuce art tag

[diejager]

how does a (monster AU) phoenix! reader sound? ...I kinda imagine 141 (except price) getting a heart attack when reader takes a bullet and bursts into flames and then a heap of ash, and then (im pulling a harry potter description of pheonix but its ur choice) the most ugly bird or something pokes their head out of the ashes and they're like '...oh'.

I remember watching Fawkes burning and turning to ash before he popped his head out. So adorable.

Ashes Cw: burning, death, rebirth, tell me if I missed any.

Ghost knew when someone was lying, able to sniff out a liar within a mile. Your dimmer smile, shorter laughter and exhaiusted expression, nothing seemed to make your days better than a warm bump of tea once or twice a day to sooth the ache in your bones and the strain in your muscles. He’d approach you with a clear mind, wanting to get to the bottom of your sickness, why you’d occasionally cough, voice weak and breathy until it cracked. You told him you were fine, that it was just the weather affecting you, but he’d seen this kind of sickness before, a cold that sunk into the bones and clogged every sinuses with intent —sick and vulnerable.

He wasn’t alone in this thought, Alejandro and Gaz shared similar doubts, coming forth to Price with their fears rather than sneaking around like he did, but Price had waved them off, telling them that it was a seasonal thing, you got sick from time to time and rose back from it as if death failed to catch you. This did not seem like something simple and mundane, Ghost could see death follow you like it followed him, it was ever present, so much so that Alejandro and Horangi - the two with the weakest nose out of the four - could smell it ooze off you like a dark miasma plaguing your body.

It seemed as if the both of you shared something that the others weren’t privy to, a low whisper in the dark that they failed to catch or the secret you shared through confidentiality higher than even a colonel. The captain knew you before you joined them, forming a tight connection through past trauma and fuck ups. Perhaps that’s why Price seemed almost chipper about your saddening state.

It seemed that Ghost was kept in as much darkness as the rest, the higher ups had kept it hidden from him, from König and from Alejandro who should’ve had the jurisdiction to have access to your documents. Especially after seeing you burst into flames after being shot in the neck by a surviving sniper (Ghost was quick to shoot him down), body gone in a coud of ash and dusted feathers. He panicked, but he wasn’t the only one to rush towards what remained of you. Despite their panicked mumbles and frantic thoughts, Price had reassured them that it was normal, that you were still alive —all they had to do was wait a few seconds for you to reappear.

Appear you did, a small, ashen head, beak the length of a child’s thumb, small ad brittle, big, rounded eyes blinked at them, narrowed in confusion until you called, a tiny croon from a chick’s throat. You shuffled your way through the mess, featherless wings flapping as you hopped towards Price, who quickly met you half way, picking you up with one nimble swoop.

“Look at you,” Price cooed, pressing his thumb to your forehead, feeling the soft, newly grown feathers that glowed white, “About time you burned, yeah?”

“Fuckin’ hell,” it was the only thing he could answer with when his mind was building up these theories, every little thought in his head went to understand what and how you were made. It was as close as Soap’s Steamin’ bloody Jesus or König’s dumbfounded Was.

“Is that why you told us not to worry, Captain?” Gaz’s ability to think clearly in adrenaline-inducing moments was a blessing, able to restrain his unending thoughts to connect two together and conjure up a sentence - a few words, a mumble or a plea - to understand whatever happened to you. “What happened?”

Price let out a deep rumble, a laugh from his belly, deep and amused, a striking contrast to their worried frowns. He handled you softly, petting and pinching at the young feathers growing on you while he turned you around, showing them how Price held you with such careful ease and soothing smile. Ghost doubted that Price didn’t have any prior experience in caring for you, seeing how loving he was with you —like a lover caring for his sickened, or a dragon guarding his treasure, Ghost wasn’t sure which one was right.

“Hunter’s a phoenix, “ he smiled softly, eyes gleaming with too much glee, a silent laugh at their sudden bewilderment, approaching you slowly to admire you themselves. “They burst to flames every three years or so, the last one was around five years ago- long overdue for a reset.”

Soap and Horangi were the first to attempt to touch you, the excited dog and the curious feline, tentatively poking at you with a finger until you pecked it, annoyed by their incessant jabbing. You let out a shrill cry from your throat, small and hilariously fierce for something so small and fragile. You crawled to the ends of Price’s fingers, wings flapping to urge them to pick you up instead of pointing a finger and cooing at you as if you were an exotic animal. You somewhat were —exotic, that is.

“A wee thang, aye, Cap?” Soap awed, cradling you in his palms, you weighted so little, as light as a feather on Gaz’s wing.

“Ugly as a rat too,” Horangi snickered, making light of the situation that had made their hearts stop.

You screeched, shaking your head wildly at him, his shoulders bobbing while you showed how offended you felt by acting out, an angry, little chick putting on a show of aggression and courage. His dark thoughts receded, Ghost’s fears and demons falling back into the depths of his mind when his eyes met your beady ones, round and doe-eyed, your age shining through the innocence of a newly-hatched. It made him wonder how you’d look once your feathers grew out, would you be as majestic as the stories portrayed phoenix did, with your great wings and great strength, feathers bathed in the sun’s warm embrace and tipped with the power of undying flames of power. Phoenixes were seen as symbols of immortality, resurrection —of life and death. Untouchable by death and favoured by life, you would live in a cycle of ashes and flames, embers cracking until it softened to flickers, a soft, gentle flame ready to yield to nature.

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @yeetusspagheetus @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @havoc973 @angelcakes-22 @cassiecasluciluce @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @ki-cant-spel @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @mul-pi @danielle143

#x reader #cod mw2 #cod mw2 x reader #monster 141 #monster 141 au #mw2 ghost #mw2 ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #konig x reader #konig mw2 #captain john price #captain price x reader #gaz mw2 #gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick #john soap mactavish #soap mw2 #soap x reader #kim horangi hong jin #horangi #horangi x reader #alejandro vargas x reader #alejandro x reader #alejandro vargas #rudy x reader #rudolfo parra

[pursuitseternal]

“The Second Day” of “Antics of the Newly Ascended:” staring Batstarion🦇

Ascended Astarion x F!Reader |E| 1.3K Pure antics and comedy

🦇 art by @marimosalad Link to full art

Summary: You can’t pick a lock without your Rogue, even if he is Ascnedant now. So you wait… and wait… until a new unexpected visitor flies in.

CW: Banter, Poop jokes, Tav filtering Astarion’s threats and antics, sneezes, and cute fluffy vampiric bats with an attitude 🦇 (no smut)

Previous Ch | Ao3 link | Masterist

🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇

“Hells, what is taking him so…flipping long?”

For a split second, you think Gale might actually swear, but no. The goody-two-shoes scout wins out in the end. You giggle anyway.

“Said he’d be back quick with a new set of lockpicks ready to go, Mister Ascendant Lord and expert of the underbelly of Baldur’s Gate…” Gale huffs and folds his arms crossly.

Karlach snorts next to you, both your backs leaning against the alley walls. You keep to the shadows, eyeing up the house you need to enter… surreptitiously. Those Flaming Fist have been everywhere lately, and you still needed your Rogue to break you in nearly everywhere in the City.

“He’s probably too busy doing Ascendant things to hurry, Gale,” Karlach chuckles, peering her horned head into the street.

“Like what?” you ask, folding your arms and pouting your lips, “what could he possibly be doing but rushing back to be with me?”

Gale rolls his eyes, seeing the wry expression on your face, he realizes you joke. “Oh, good one,” he chortles. “Oh lots of things, I would imagine if I applied my wildest musings…”

“Get to the point wizard!” Karlach slaps him on the back. “More taunting, fewer words.”

Gale sputters for air after having it knocked from his body. And you laugh at that.

Suddenly, you feel a breeze pass your face. A blur of white settles on the wall beside your head. Hanging upside down.

A fluffy white bat. It chitters at you.

“Oh shit,” Karlach jolts at the sight. “That thing is massive.”

It seems to chitter more.. proudly at that. You narrow your eyes at it… your other companions draw away a step, leaving the beast with space.

“If Astarion were here, he’d probably call it a snack and snatch it from the air…” Gale jabs, a self-confident smile on his face, proud of his own humor. His own best entertainment.

“Naw… he’s too busy picking out new fancy clothes…” Karlach peers into the street.

“Too busy trying to burst into a sea of mist…” Gale laughs.

You giggle, thinking of something he did just that morning, for an hour, “Preening his hair into a perfect coif before kissing his reflection…”

Gale’s mouth snaps shut. The bat on the wall chitters noisily again, flapping its wings as it comes to dart around your head. “That bat is all over you,” his eyes narrow, “but I’m fresh out of Speak with Animals potions for now.”

You shrug, “I don’t mind, maybe he’s lonely…” You hold out your hand, an offering to let the little mammal rest somewhere soft. “Gives me something to look after until Astarion comes back.”

“Don’t let him see you’ve got a new pet…” Gale taunts, leaning closer to peer at the creature that now rests in your palm, “He might get jealous and snap it up in his fangs.”

Does… is the bat… glaring at Gale?

You look closely, but Karlach guffaws. “Oh oh, I’ve got it. I think I know what’s keeping the Vampire Ascendant! He’s probably stuck taking his first shit in two-hundred years...”

Okay, now that bat in your palm is definitely glaring, and chittering, and… pissed. You look closely at last, it’s white fur catches the sun in shades of silver, its eyes are a deep red… almost a crimson…

You stop. “Astarion?” you murmur at the little creature, patting its head with a single finger.

It… He… bounces on your hand, chittering away, pointed little face nodding.

“For fucks sake…” Karlach groans. “How the fuck did you turn into that?”

Gale leans closer… but not too close just in case. “I’ve read that some Vampires can take forms themselves, if powerful enough.” He grins widely, “Could be ferocious werewolf, or noxious cloud…” that grin twists, “Yours is adorable, if I do say so myself, Astarion.”

You can almost hear the ire in the noises that he makes in reply. Still nonsense chatter, but the emotion is clear.

He is not amused.

“Gale, you do realize he will turn back, and he will be pissed,” you warn with a shake of your head. You freeze, a whisper tickling inside your mind as the creature in your palm twitches and rests. “Astarion says it’s not his fault you're a pack of incompetent… oh,” you pause, patting him on his head with a finger, “I’m not going to say that part, my love.”

“He’s… talking to you?” Gale twists his head and raises a brow. “Like, mind to mind?”

“Yes,” you nod, “we are just as baffled at the moment, I will be honest with you, even if he said not to tell you…” the bat starts scrabbling up your arm, chittering even more noisily than before. “Stop whining, darling. You’ll figure it out.” He comes to rest on your shoulder, hanging upside down from the seam of your shirt. “And he says he would rather you never again speculate about his bowel movements either, on pain of… I’m going to say, a severe talking to.”

“That’s not what he said is it?” Karlach guffaws.

You can’t help but let your finger scritch under his little chin as he dangles from your shoulder. “No, no,” you giggle as you watch his beady little eyes flutter shut at the petting. “He used his regular ascendantly foul mouth.”

“Well, Vampire Ascendant or not, he’s not going to be much help breaking and entering in that form, is he?” Gale snips, rolling his eyes.

“He says he would be more than happy to talk us through it, if we… oh, again? I’m not suggesting that, my pet,” you shake your head, removing your scratching finger to wag it at him. “Naughty,” you chide.

“How did you get like that anyway, Astarion?” Karlach chuffs, folding her arms and swaying on her feet.

“He sneezed,” you reply. “Oh, I wasn’t supposed to share that. I’m sorry, my love. You really should be more obvious about what is for my ears… er… mind alone.”

“Maybe…” Gale gives a mischievous grin, “if we get you to sneeze again… maybe you’ll change back to a form with fingers that can actually do some good.” He reaches into his pocket, takes out a little bit of powder, and blows.

The little bat writhes, fur standing on end, flat folded nose twitching before….

“Achoo!” The sneeze echoes off the alley walls, a burst of black mist that tingles your skin as his tall, lean and wiry body forms against your arm. You can sense his irritation, out right, cuttingly sharp annoyance lacing his angry breaths. Once the mist clears, Astarion is, in fact, glaring at you all. Crimson eyes dart from one to the next. “I am… going to fucking kill you,” he hisses.

“Shh…” you cajole, raising your finger to scritch under his smooth chin, clenched tight in his rage. Instantly, the moment you begin your gentle petting, he eases, eyes fluttering shut.

“I think he likes that, soldier,” Karlach whispers a giggle. “Do you feed him little treats when he’s a good boy?”

“Only if he gets us into that house with those dexterous hands of his,” you chuckle and slide your hand to stroke his cheek.

“Fine,” he sighs, exasperated, tired, and annoyed. “But not one of you breathes a word of this to Halsin… or Wyll… or… anyone.”

“Agreed,” Karlach slaps him on the back.

He begins rummaging his lithe fingers through his pack, turning those crimson eyes on you as you watch. “And you, my consort, don’t think I’m not going to make you pay for that mirror-kissing comment earlier…”

“Don’t think you won’t have to earn those chin scritches, my love,” you giggle in return as he flashes that fanged smirk at you.

“One more, my darling?” he purrs, watching the others start into the street already. “One for the road, one in case we die today?”

Your fingers reach quickly to oblige, his eyes closing to savor your attentive care. And you giggle, “Who can argue with that?”

#ascended astarion #ascension puberty #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x f!reader #astarion x female reader #astarion x reader #batstarion #baldur’s gate astarion #astarion fic #baldur's gate 3 astarion #astarion fanfic #astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 astarion #bg3 spoilers #bg3 #bg3 funny #baldurs gate smut #baldursgate3 #baldur gate 3 #baldur’s gate 3 #baldur's gate #baldurs gate 3 #baldurs gate #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #baldur’s gate spoilers #baldur’s gate iii

[chronicbeans]

Let's Make a Deal! (Yandere Queerplatonic Alastor x Fallen Angel Reader)

Part 2: Let's Talk

Part 1, Part 3

Tag list: @repostingmyfavs

TW: Dirty Jokes, Cannibalism, Implied Stalking

You've lived in the Hazbin Hotel long enough to meet most everyone, now... meaning, two days. Everybody is so eccentric, that it's hard not to meet them, even when they barely leave their rooms. However, you have been noticing Alastor following you around, often... Eyeing you, as if trying to size you up.

You have been having a hard time adjusting due to his stares. Everybody seems relatively safe to be around, except for the deer man. So, you plan to confront him. By confronting, you mean just talking normally. Maybe he's just curious? He certainly seems like a man who doesn't understand social cues, so perhaps he doesn't realize how much he's unnerving you? You shouldn't judge him so quickly...

You begin searching around the Hazbin Hotel for Alastor. It proves difficult, since you still don't know your way around the building very well. That, and whenever you want to find Alastor, it's as if he hides from you. As you make your way down one of the various halls, you notice Angel Dust talking to Cherri Bomb. He looks over to you, waving. "Hey, toots! You looking for someone?"

You pause, before walking over to him. "Yeah. Have you seen Alastor?" Angel raises an eyebrow, before shrugging. "Nope. Have you looked in his radio tower?" "I don't know where his room is, Angel." Angel then pauses, before laughing "Oh! With how much he watches you, I would've expected him to invite you to visit his office, if you catch my drift?"

You feel your face flush, only for you to shake your head. "No! He doesn't talk to me, often. That's why I want to talk to him. He keeps watching me, but doesn't talk to me..." Cherri grins, nodding. "Yeah. Creepy fuck is like that. If you want to check his broadcasting station, it's near his room. You'll notice it. It's hard to miss it." "Thank you."

You quickly head up to the top floor. The halls of the hotel feel eerily empty. There's still not that many guests, so most of the floors are empty. Once you find an elevator, you hop inside, taking it all the way up... then, once the doors open, you see Alastor as you step out. You let out a squeak of shock as you see him, causing him to laugh.

"Oh, dear! I know I'm scary, but I never knew my mere presence was a fright!" He looks down at you, smiling. "Do you need anything?" You take a deep breath, looking up at him. His eyes seem to follow your every movement, like always. "Yes. I do. Can we talk? I've gotten to know everyone here, but not you."

His ears twitch a bit, his lips pulling back a little as his grin becomes strained. "What, dear? A simple conversation was so pertinent that you needed to come looking for me?" You instantly point to him upon hearing those words. Your wings flutter as you realize you caught him so easily. "That! That's why! How'd you know I was looking for you?!" You then tense, hearing an odd noise being emitted from him... Kinda like an elk or something.

Alastor leans forward towards you, his brows furrowed in anger, despite his grin being wider than ever. "Clever bird... Fine. You'll get your conversation." He then stands up tall, grabbing his microphone as he acts calm. "Follow me. We'll talk in your room. It's a calming atmosphere, especially with the changes you've made to it." He then begins walking to your room before you can even answer. Unwilling to fight him about it, you just follow along.

You enter your room. As Alastor walks by the fireplace, the wood inside bursts into flames, that red and pink hue returning. Then, he turns on the heel of his foot, sitting on one of the two plush armchairs in front of it. "Come now. You wanted to talk, so that's what we're going to do." He then gestures to the chair across from him, implying you should sit there.

Taking a deep breath, you walk over to him, stretching your wings out for a second, before sitting down. Unfortunately, you are stuck with your wings constantly present, a bit like Husk. You can't summon and hide them, like Lucifer or Vaggie... so, sitting down in chairs that have backs to them, like these plush chairs, tend to make your wings sore after a while. You look over to him as you sit down, nodding. "Yes... Let's talk."

Alastor leans back in his seat, folding his hands together on his lap as he crosses his legs, sitting politely. "So, my dear, what is it that you wish to speak about?" "Whatever you want to." "... What?" You sigh, leaning forward in your seat. "What do you wish to know about me? I've seen you watching me, so I assume you are interested in something about me? What is it?"

He grows silent, before leaning forward. "You are an angel, yes? A fallen one. How did you fall, dear?" Of course it was that question, first. You cross your arms, sighing. "That's quite a personal question... fine, though. Somebody lied, and was able to convince the court to cast me out of Heaven." You watch Alastor's eyes seem to glow with excitement. His leg bounces a bit as he responds. "A complete lie? Well, that's intriguing... it seems like Heaven works on a faulty system... How about a lighter topic, now? What do you like to eat?"

You nod, smiling. "(Fav. Food). I think it's tasty. And you?" Alastor chuckles softly. Then, he places his hand under his chin, tapping his cheek in thought. "I'd say... Jambalaya, since it reminds me of my mother. Otherwise, I love raw meat." You tense up, your wings flinching a bit. "Raw meat...?" He then cackles, looking at you with dark eyes. "You'd be surprised! As long as the meat is fresh, properly sourced and prepared, it's safe to eat raw... Of course, it's good to avoid raw chicken and fowl. But beef, venison, pork...? They're delicious raw. I also like a little nibble of humans and demons, from time to time..."

You tense even more. You are now wondering if he has a taste for angels... he probably does. "I see... um..." "Yes, dear. I'd eat an angel. You're not on the menu, though." "Okay." You look around awkwardly, before he asks another question. "Are you afraid of me?" "Yes. I am."

He chuckles, again, nodding. "Understandable, dear. Though, you shouldn't be. I'm here to help protect those in the hotel. You're a guest. So, I am here to protect you." He then stands up, taking a few steps over to the door. He pauses once he walks by you, grinning a sharp toothed grin. He looks like a a Cheshire cat, as he looks down to you. "Plus, you may be useful for something. However, that is a story for another day. For now, just relax." "How am I supposed to relax when I'm living in the same hotel as a cannibal?" "Cannibals have hearts, too, you know! More than most, since you are what you eat!"

He then cackles, again, walking out of the room. You can swear that his radio filter plays some audience laughter, too. He must think that joke is hilarious. What does he mean by "you may be useful"? Your mind is swirling with questions... For now, though, you just hope he'll stop watching you...

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin alastor #alastor hazbin #alastor the radio demon #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #queerplatonic #yandere hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel yandere #x reader

[underdark-dreams]

I'm a slut for hurt/comfort and I'm obsessed with this trope tbh: Can we get Rolan/Tav where Tav gets downed in battle? (Obvs they can be brought back bc scrolls and revivify and what have you, I just want that sweet sweet angst.)

Rolan x Unnamed Fem!Tav: she/her

Whoo boy, we may have angst'ed too close to the sun with this one. Can't say much else without getting choked up--just love Rolan even when he's in pain. Thank you for this request!

Life, Death, Resurrection

During the ambush at Last Light Inn, the young wizard stares down the very real possibility of his dear one's death. A bittersweet night seen through Rolan's eyes.

Tags: Fem Unnamed Tav, Angst, Major Injury, Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 2,430 [Read on AO3]

It was like the very skies above had cracked open to let the hells stream through. 

Everything roared around Rolan all at once—nightmares on wings descended in ambush through the roof of Last Light Inn, the din of screams and ripping flesh and thudding bodies against the floor overwhelming his senses before he could gather them.

Only reflex saved him as a winged horror stretched its claws high above to strike—then was pushed backwards by the thunderous force from both his hands. An arrow from Lia’s bow whistled past his ear, close enough that he felt the rush of air against his cheek.

“Fuck is happening—!” She yelled aloud to no one, another arrow already notched against her bowstring. Lakrissa sprinted in to form a line with her despite the bleeding gash on her bow arm.

Jaheira burst through the fray with eyes like steel. “Harpers, to the cleric!” The druid hit the ground on four paws—powerful teeth tore through one hellish creature’s translucent wing like it was parchment, its shrieking figure hurled against the back wall by the panther’s jaws—

Rolan wasted a precious second glancing to Isobel’s quarters above. He saw the flashes of rapid-fire spellcasting, heard the vicious scrape of metal against metal, and grasped Jaheira’s meaning in an instant. All the chaos on the lower floor was just a diversion to occupy their forces—the cleric’s room was the true focus of the ambush. And she was up there somewhere.

“Die and I’ll kill you both,” Rolan shouted to his siblings as he broke for the stairs. The blunt end of Cal’s spear swung past him in response, landing a killing blow on the ghoul Jaheira had just flung past their heads.

Supportive forces from outside the inn walls were rapidly gathering. Harper Skywin's crossbow bolt sang true through the wide front doors, piercing one monster's throat a moment too late, its claws already dripping with the warm blood of the disemboweled Harper on the floorboards.

Dammon rushed across the threshold just as Rolan's boots reached the first step. Their eyes met for only an instant as Rolan dashed upward. Behind him he heard the sharp sizzle of flesh as the smith’s blade, still glowing from the fires of his furnace, seared through the belly of the creature standing over its kill. 

Rolan reached the balcony just as yet another winged ghoul touched down outside the cleric's room. He threw handful after handful of icy shards through its chest, overcome with impatient fury. Finally its impaled body fell back over the railing with a death rattle. He wheeled round in the doorway to face the scene within.

The colossal Flaming Fist's greatsword swung outward in a reckless circle—his face was disfigured by necrotic energy, dark unnatural wings sprouting from between his shoulders. 

She and her companions flanked him on all sides—Rolan watched her face reflect the radiant magic of her own sword as it slashed for Marcus's shoulder. Shadowheart's arms guided a blinding bolt into the Fist's back, while from the corner Isobel called down healing energy upon her allies as rapidly as she could. The fight was nearly theirs.

Rolan joined to aim a spell through the fray, channeling every bit of the Weave he could reach to bind and weaken the monster. Marcus roared in frustration as he felt their numbers rapidly turning the tide against him.

Several things happened all at once. With a raging strike, Karlach swung her battleaxe down upon the Fist’s neck to cleave at the exposed gap in his armor, landing the death blow that would bring him to his knees. 

And in the same instant—maybe because his savior was closest, or just the last face Marcus glimpsed in death—Rolan saw the Fist's hand raise toward her too late to intervene. A final burst of necrotic magic pushed out from his collapsing body, rushed through her chest, exited like black smoke from between her shoulder blades.

Her mouth formed a soft “oh!” of surprise. In the next moment, Rolan watched her figure crumple and fold over itself on its way to the ground, like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

“No—” The hoarse word barely escaped his throat. The Gods couldn’t be so fucking cruel to take her now, not after she’d just given him back the only family he’d ever known—

Rolan scrambled toward her through pools of cooling blood, kneeled where she lay. An iron fist gripped around him. "Wake up," he ordered her limp and unresponsive body, even as he gathered it in his arms. "Damn it, wake up!"

All the rest of them standing around him were forgotten. Somehow he was stumbling down the stairs with her, rushing into the barracks that had rapidly begun filling with the other wounded and bleeding. The rest of them could wait; she must be the first.

He laid her body out on the nearest empty bed. Not body—he corrected his mind in a wild panic—her eyes would open and she would live. Right now, her features lay so still it filled him with dread.

Why was no one descending instantaneously to heal her? He would’ve shouted if he could find his voice. Isobel was practically on death's door herself—Rolan watched her slump against the wall and wipe dark blood from her mouth. He turned away, unable to bear the fucking sight of her anyway, not after what her life may have just cost him. He cast around desperately for the Sharran.

Shadowheart was beside him in a second, already peeling off her bloodied gloves. 

"Please," he begged. "Tell me she's not—"

Shadowheart's hands gripped his shoulders, vice-like. "If you want her to live, go. I need to concentrate." Her words broke through, and Rolan stumbled backwards in mute obedience.

Only his other fears for Cal and Lia could have drawn him from the room. He found them gathered around the central hall with the rest of the able-bodied, wiping the infernal blood from their weapons and taking stock of the casualties in a daze. The three of them all held each other wordlessly. Through the heat rising from the open hearth, Rolan glimpsed Alfira and Lakrissa doing the same.

With that concern eased, his mind was consumed with the one that remained. He paced across the hall in an effort to follow her companion's warning to stay away for as long as he could stand.

Once he couldn't, Rolan returned to the makeshift infirmary to stand helpless at the foot of her bed. Shadowheart took no notice of him; her eyes glowed blank as her hands directed a powerful flow of magic into her patient's chest. In this wan light, Rolan found her features more fragile and delicate than he’d ever seen them.

As the ritual came to an end, Shadowheart leaned across the unconscious figure to check the pulse at her wrist.

"How is she?" Rolan asked, terrified of the answer.

“She’ll be all right,” the cleric told him as she rose to take her leave. “But that was powerful magic; her body needs time. She probably won’t wake for hours.” He ignored the note of suggestion in her voice.

"I'll stay with her," Rolan said, final. Shadowheart didn’t question him as she moved away toward the next injured.

Rolan slumped cross-legged on the floor near her shoulder. From this angle, he could see the rise and fall of her chest under her tunic. Her bloodied half-plate lay against the wall behind him; no doubt Shadowheart had removed it to heal her wounds. Her breaths were shallow but steady. 

Rolan found his own chest rising and falling in tandem, as if he might lend her some of his strength by doing so.

At the long table near the center of the room, he heard Jaheira's Harpers grouping around her in deep conversation about their next move. Marcus had been with them since the beginning, Rolan was aware—which meant that Ketheric Thorm had been one step ahead of their strategy this whole time. Rolan heard her name brought up several times in urgent excitement. She was their secret weapon. She could infiltrate Moonrise Towers this very night, and she still wouldn't be expected.

Rolan closed his eyes against the incessant discussion. He couldn’t care less about Marcus, or Thorm, or Isobel, or the entire Shadow Curse itself for that matter. There they all stood alive and well, plotting the next bloody feat she was meant to undertake, as if her spent body wasn't fighting for life in the bed a few steps away. Angry disbelief rose in his throat.

"For fuck's sake," Rolan interjected through them, "can't you all just let her rest for one fucking night?"

Surprised faces turned toward him. He didn't care if it branded him a traitor to their cause, didn't care what they thought of him at all, as long as she was left in peace for once.

It seemed Jaheira was the only one wise enough to understand. "The cub's right," she decided. "We regroup at dawn. Tonight, we rest."

Once the Harpers had filed out of the room on her orders, Jaheira turned back to him from the doorway. “Look after her,” she said, almost with gentleness. Rolan didn’t need the druid or anyone else to tell him that. But he said nothing as she left the room.

Rolan was finally left alone with his thoughts as the fire in the stone hearth behind him burned down to coals. Before long all the other infirmary occupants were sound asleep, drifting away to join the one beside him. From across the dark room Art Cullough whispered the same snatches of his halting song.

Rolan’s weary back ached despite his resolve to keep watch over her. He’d only rest his head for a little while, he told himself. He folded his arms on the edge of her mattress and lay his cheek across them so he could still face her, one hand brushing against hers. He took it without thought.

Her hands were cold. It didn’t worry him; he knew by now that they usually were. Many times in the past she’d laughed with embarrassment whenever her hands met his skin for one reason or another. Nevertheless, he wrapped her fingers under the warmth of his palm.

Rolan closed his eyes as he listened to her soft breath rise and fall.

-

He awoke some hours later to the sensation of something tickling his hand. Rolan raised his head groggily, realizing through the dark that it was her thumb brushing across his knuckles.

“Rolan?” Her voice whispered.

“I’m here—” He straightened up, trying to see her face through the dim light. His bent legs had gone painfully numb under him.

“What time s’it.”

He had no clue, just having awakened himself. “Past midnight,” he guessed, judging by the spare red glow of the coals in the hearth.

“Where’s Isobel?” She croaked out.

Rolan’s relief at hearing her voice again was colored with disbelief that she was already asking after others. “She’s fine, asleep upstairs. How do you feel?”

“It was Ketheric’s orders,” she explained, ignoring his question. “Taken alive…why he sent Marcus.”

To Rolan’s mind that didn’t begin to explain the attack, but he couldn’t care about all that now.

“It’s over,” he assured her. “Your companions are all safe. Everyone’s sleeping off the fight. You should too.”

He heard her sigh in relief, and then the sound worked itself into a pained cough. “Feel like Karlach clocked me in the ribs,” she winced.

“Should I get Shadowheart?” Rolan was ready to wake her friend without delay. He had half-risen before her fingers clenched against his to keep him where he knelt. 

“Stay,” she requested, then added almost shyly, “please.”

Rolan was back beside her in an instant. Wherever she wanted him, that’s where he’d be. He settled himself against the edge of her bed once more, their hands still connected.

She was quiet for a long moment. “I suppose now we take the fight to Moonrise Towers.”

“By all the Hells,” Rolan muttered. He wasn’t upset at her—just at every other circumstance that weighed and pressed down on her shoulders. “Don’t you think you can take one night for yourself before you have to rush off and save us all again?”

She shifted against the bedding. “The element of surprise won’t last forever, Rolan. You know that as well as I do. The sooner we dispatch Ketheric, the sooner we can finally make our way to Baldur’s Gate, all of us.”

Rolan knew she was appealing to his personal motives, but he resisted. “Think about yourself for once,” he instructed her. “Just rest for now. Sleep. Gods know you deserve it.”

She fell silent for a while. Rolan tried to make out her expression in the dim light; he wondered if he’d been too harsh.

“Oh, just come here,” she said suddenly. “My back hurts just looking at you.” With a soft grunt of effort she scooted to the far side of the bed; Rolan realized she was making a spot for him.

He hesitated only for a moment before climbing up beside her. The mattress was firm and lumpy, but after the unyielding wood floor, it felt soft as a cloud against his stiff limbs. She settled on her side to examine him up close.

“Your face is all bloody,” she said. Her eyes reflected just enough firelight that he could make out their expression of concern.

Rolan glanced down at himself, realizing his skin and clothing were still flecked and stained head to toe from the night’s battle. His face must be in a similar state. “I don’t think it’s mine,” he answered honestly.

“Goodness,” she said, and he could hear the smile in her voice. “What a dashing hero.” Rolan couldn’t make out if she was teasing or serious, and wasn’t sure which possibility made his heart thump faster. He deflected by bringing her knuckles up to his lips.

Rolan felt her sigh again in reaction, more relaxed this time. 

“Rolan?”

“Mm.”

“Hold me for a while?” She asked quietly. 

He didn’t need to be asked twice. Rolan’s arms slid under and over her, drawing her frame near to him. Her head bent to his chest as he held her close. Her brave, reckless, kind, vulnerable self.

Before very long, her breathing reached the heavy cadence of sleep. Rolan drifted toward unconsciousness not far behind her. It was dreamless; his arms held all he could want.

#rolan x tav #bg3 rolan #rolan bg3 #bg3 fic #angst #hurt/comfort #injury #fem unnamed tav #underdark-dreams #soitbe-soitis #bg3 spoilers #baldur's gate 3 spoilers

[writingfool001]

A Small Surprise

Author’s Note: I have recovered this fic and I struggled how to end it so, I said, "Fuck it."

Request: Yews by Anon

Pairing: Vil x Newt!MC (Can be platonic or romantic)

Warning: Newt!mc is inspired by Newt Scamander & comment if there are more that i didn't notice.

Originally, Vil came to get you for something and didn’t see you around the main floor of the Ramshackle dorm before noticing that the basement door was open, knowing you were likely down there. He stepped down into the spacious basement and glanced at the various creatures as well as habitats, the magnificent mixture of colors and variations. It made him smile that you put such care towards your creatures until you released them back into the wild.

By the time he reaches the bottom of the stairs, he looks around your small open area that acts as the center point that connects to all the various habitats. He noticed your small workstation before noticing a disheveled and elderly red orange bird, which was surprising considering that you, the creature expert friend, takes excellent care of their creatures. The bird was perched on a bar that was above a giant bowl. 

The old bird turned its head and nodded, almost somewhat silently, greeting them silently like a kind old man. The creature then raised its wings before suddenly bursting into flames, which startled Vil and brought his forearms up in front of his face as he felt the faint wave of heat. He looks back to see small bits of flame and embers fell on top of the ash that had filled part of the bowl. Baffled and in awe, he was struggling to find the right words to speak, trying to process the things that happened in the last few seconds.

“Vil?” a familiar voice broke him out of his trance before he turned to see you coming out of your suitcase with a surprised look.

“Uh- I-that…the bird.” He finally got out as you got out and patted off any dust. “That bird just burst into flames. I couldn’t stop or do anything, and-”

"Oh, good. About time, they did,” You let out a sigh of relief, as you walked over to the bowl and perch. “I’ve been trying to coax them into burning for a few days now.”

“I’m sorry…burning?” He raised an eyebrow. “Yes, I’m sure you’ve heard about phoenix. They burst into flames when they’ve grown too old, then get reborn from the ashes.”

You gesture him closer as a small bird head with some tiny red feathers on its head emerges from the ashes. 

“Such fascinating creatures as phoenixes are.” You hummed as the bird purred a bit. 

“I never knew you took care of a phoenix.”

“It was given to me by a friend and to be completely honest, I usually let Markel just roam around.”

“Markel?”

“Yes, Markel. I found his name suitable because of his fiery self.” You said, cooing at the small bird. “Such magnificent creatures that are reborn from the ashes, reminds me of some people I know.”

“Such a sweetheart, potato.” Vil smiled. “Such a charmer with a way of word.”

“I don’t mean to.”

“You have a kind heart, potato. Don’t lose it.”

#twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland x mc #twst x reader #newt!mc #vil x reader #vil schoenheit

[happybird16]

•Chapter Ten•

Naga!Levi Ackerman/Fem!Reader

Summary: Growing up, the forest's edge always darkened the far corner of your small village. The giant, twisted branches overhead rendered the forest floor a terrifying, pitch black. You shouldn't be here. There's creatures here, dangerous ones.

Overall warnings: Past references to child abuse, blood, scars, gore, mystery, eventual sex, inhuman genitalia (Levi is a snake man), horror vibes.

Chapter warnings: NSFW!!!, Sex, inhuman genitalia, oral sex (fem!receiving), tongue-fucking, creampie, monsterfucking, tail-fucking, knotting, a lot of cum.

Chapter length: 12.5k

Ao3 Link

The most special of shoutouts to my beloved friend and beta @theferricfox!!!! Also, credit to @the-milk-anon for the snake banner!!

Note: Fun-fact I wrote this smut while listening to serial killer podcasts

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This time, the warm weather lingers. Spring bursts forth in a whirlwind of balmy temperatures, announcing its arrival with an exuberant chorus of chittering birds. The once-dormant landscape awakens with renewed energy as nature's vibrant palette comes alive, painting the world in hues of fresh green, delicate blossoms, and lively blooms. A gentle breeze carries the scent of blooming flowers, intermingling with the invigorating fragrance of earth and dew-kissed grass. With each passing day, the embrace of spring deepens.

The last of the snow melts over the course of three days, revealing a forest floor coated with half- decayed leaves and broken branches. The underbrush, once concealed beneath the snow’s frozen grasp, awakens with newfound vitality. Small bushes begin to sprout tender leaves, eager to soak in the warm sunlight. Alongside them, quickly blooming ferns unfurl their delicate fronds, adding touches of verdant green to the evolving scenery. These resilient plants find their place amidst the forest floor, spread intermittently in the few spots of light that manage to penetrate the forest’s dark canopy.

Amidst the lush forest floor, a vibrant sight catches the eye—a bright red cardinal gracefully hopping about, its movements brimming with energy and enthusiasm. With each nimble hop, it explores the underbrush, its beak pecking with eager curiosity. Standing in the narrow path of sunlight, the cardinal’s scarlet plumage stands out vividly against the backdrop of green foliage, like a flickering flame amidst the verdant tapestry of nature.

Its beady black eyes sparkle with a sense of purpose, scanning the ground for hidden treasures or delectable morsels concealed beneath fallen leaves and twigs. Its slender, pointed beak skillfully probes the earth, unearthing small insects or seeds that serve as its sustenance.

A stick snaps loudly beneath your foot, causing the bird's head to jerk in your direction. Sensing your presence, the bright red cardinal abruptly halts its delightful foraging and squawks loudly at your proximity. In a split second, the cardinal’s wings unfurl gracefully, stretching wide to catch the air. With a burst of energy, the cardinal takes flight, its wings beating with a rapid flurry. The once-hopping bird now becomes a fleeting vision, soaring through the trees in a panicked response to your nearness. Its brilliant red feathers quickly vanish into the forest's darkness.

"I didn't realize how beautiful The Maw is," you note in awe, your eyes trailing into the dark greenery ahead, attempting to catch glimpses of vibrant colors. On the forest floor, delicate purple and yellow flowers have started to bloom, their petals barely emerging from their green husks.

"You're just easily amused," the man by your side teases with a soft huff. "Stick close to the trees," Levi advises, his grip gently tugging at your elbow, guiding you forward. "Don't want you tracking mud everywhere."

You shrug nonchalantly, contemplating the practicality of his advice. "I can just take off my boots when we get back," you suggest. Nonetheless, you allow Levi to lead you closer to the side of a towering evergreen, just one of many casting a dense shadow over your surroundings. As you step closer, you become aware of the uneven ground beneath your feet, disrupted by an intricate network of enormous roots.

This early in spring, it's still a tad chilly out. It's just warm enough that you decided to leave your coat back in the cave. However, the occasional gust of wind carries a crisp bite, causing a shiver to run down your spine. Levi, on the other hand, is still sporting his odd mismatched coat of furs, wary of the lingering chill that could seep into his semi-cold-blooded form.

As you navigate a steep root-encased slope, the uneven terrain poses a challenge, causing you to wobble and struggle to maintain your balance. In contrast, Levi’s inhuman form seems effortlessly adapted to the forest’s obstacles, allowing him to move with grace and ease.

Seeing your struggle, Levi’s hand rises immediately to assist you. With a gentle touch, his hand finds the small of your back, offering support and guidance. His touch is both firm and comforting, stabilizing you as you make your way down the slope. The pressure of his hand against your back serves as a tactile reminder of his protective presence, allowing you to feel more secure in your steps.

With Levi’s guidance, your descent becomes smoother and more controlled. You can’t help but appreciate his thoughtfulness and the way he effortlessly adapts to the environment, always looking out for you.

Pausing for a moment, you turn to Levi, curiosity evident in your voice. "Why are we out here again?"

Levi responds with a mixture of amusement and mild exasperation, his voice laced with affectionate familiarity. "Your attention span has been terrible lately," he teases, his playful remark accompanied by a light chuckle.

"Oh, I wonder why that would be?" you tease in response, bumping your arm playfully into his.

He playfully raises an eyebrow, his voice infused with a touch of mischief. "I wonder…" he echoes your words, a playful glint in his eyes. Pausing, his expression shifts into one of genuine concern. His raised eyebrow lowers, and his mischievous glint gives way to a thoughtful gaze. There's a hint of vulnerability in his eyes as he directs his attention towards you, his voice carrying a softness that reflects his genuine care. "How are you feeling, by the way?" he asks sincerely, his eyes briefly flickering down to your thighs before bouncing back up.

"I told you I'm fine," you reiterate honestly, your words filled with sincerity. You understand his caring nature and how deeply he values your well-being. The memory of the passionate night you shared together brings a slight warmth to your cheeks, knowing that Levi had been concerned about any lingering discomfort you might have experienced.

A soft smile plays on your lips as you continue, wanting to put his worries to rest. "I appreciate you asking, but I'm fine, I promise," you affirm, your voice gentle yet firm. You understand that Levi's concern stems from a place of genuine care for you, but you want to assure him that the soreness has subsided and that you are healing well.

Levi's brows furrow slightly, his gaze searching yours, as if trying to gauge the veracity of your words. "Still..." he begins, his voice trailing off.

You interject, wanting to alleviate any lingering concerns. "It's been days," you assure him, your tone filled with reassurance. "The soreness faded halfway through the next day, I promise. It was mostly just my knees and thighs anyways," you explain, with a soft smirk. "I haven't exactly gotten much exercise lately."

Levi takes a moment to absorb your words, his gaze softening as he comes to terms with your explanation. Slowly, a smile tugs at the corners of his lips, indicating his relief. "Alright," he finally concedes, a hint of playfulness returning to his voice. "Just remember, if you ever need anything, I'm here for you."

You reach out, gently squeezing his hand, gratitude and affection evident in your touch. "I know, and I appreciate that more than you know," you respond sincerely.

As you continue your journey beneath the giant darkened canopy of The Maw, you observe Levi's presence beside you. Something seems subtly amiss, and your keen perception picks up on the subtle changes in his demeanor. While it may be barely noticeable to the untrained eye, you sense a distinct shift in the way he carries himself.

Levi's shoulders appear slightly tense and on edge, as if he's holding himself differently, as if he's ready to spring into action at any given moment. Moreover, he seems to have developed an unconscious gravitation towards you. Even in this moment, he leans into you, his side brushing against yours as you walk.

Your concern lingers as you observe Levi's demeanor, the tension in his shoulders and the subtle changes in his behavior prompting worry within you. Unable to contain your worries for even a moment longer, you voice your thoughts, "I- is there something dangerous out here..."

Levi's response is a mixture of reassurance and uncertainty. His tongue flicks out, a subtle gesture that reflects his heightened senses as he tastes the air, trying to detect any potential threats. "I don't sense anything," he finally responds, his voice calm but guarded. The fact that he doesn't meet your gaze adds a layer of complexity to the situation, leaving you wondering about the true nature of his unease.

As you walk side by side, the back of his hand brushes against yours in a fleeting touch before quickly retreating. Sensing his internal struggle, you can't help but smile. He wants to hold your hand.

"You're silly sometimes," you chuckle affectionately, interlacing your fingers with his. The simple act of intertwining your hands immediately sends a surge of relief through his shoulders. As your fingers meet, you feel the warmth of his hand and notice a soft pink hue spreading across his cheekbones.

Levi swallows heavily, shooting you a shy look. His fingers tighten around yours and the thumb works a firm circle into the back of your hand. “We're heading towards a meadow, not far from the river we went to before. I- we need to get new branches for the nest.”

You think of the layers of pine below the soft pelt blankets. “They have gotten sort of mushed,” you concede with a hum. Over the past week you've noticed that the cushion they provide has steadily decreased. Some of them have even become scraggly and brown, though that's mostly the outer patches closer to the entrance. “But we're only going to be here for a little longer, why bother?”

“It's my instincts,” Levi explains. “Since i’m right on the edge of a heat, they're practically screaming at me to make the nest perfect.”

As you round a colossal oak tree, its majestic presence acting as a gateway, the dense embrace of the forest reluctantly relinquishes its hold, revealing a breathtaking sight—a picturesque meadow, bathed in the golden embrace of sunlight. The once-tangled foliage gives way to a carpet of vibrant green grass, stretching out before you like a tranquil haven. The warm rays of the sun pierce through the gaps in the forest canopy, casting a radiant glow upon the meadow’s beauty.

In this idyllic scene, the melodies of nature fill the air, carried on the wings of countless birds. Their elegant flight adds a vivid touch to the tableau, their feathers a kaleidoscope of colors that dance against the azure sky. The harmony of the meadow, with its sunlit expanse and lively avian inhabitants, stirs a sense of wonder and tranquility within you.

Stepping forward, you feel the gentle caress of sunlight on your skin, its warmth serving as a comforting embrace. Lost in the beauty of your surroundings, you muse aloud, “Surprised you don’t want to clean all of the furs…” The question lingers in the air, carrying a hint of curiosity and a touch of playful banter, directed towards Levi.

He huffs, smiling softly at how well you know him. “I do, trust me,” he shakes his head. “The smell helps. It's hard to explain, but it makes me feel less on edge to have our scents mixed together everywhere.”

Your gaze shifts to the far end of the meadow, where a cluster of more reasonably sized evergreens beckons. The verdant giants stand tall, their branches swaying gently in the breeze. The two of you quickly make your way towards them.

Reaching the side of a trio of them, you note that even though they're smaller than their neighbors, they still tower high above you. You take a moment to assess the situation, realizing that all the larger branches are well beyond your reach. A note of uncertainty colors your voice as you inquire, “How do we-”

Before you can even finish your sentence, Levi springs into action. With remarkable agility, he swiftly maneuvers himself around the base of the tree, using the natural grooves and irregularities of the bark as his handholds. His tail, a sleek and powerful appendage, coils tightly around the trunk, aiding in his ascent as he deftly pulls himself from one branch to another.

As Levi effortlessly navigates the intricate network of branches, you find yourself in awe of his unexpected tree-climbing prowess. The sight of his muscles flexing and the fluidity of his movements captivate you. In a mix of surprise and admiration, you shout up towards the branches, unable to contain your astonishment, “You can climb trees?”

His voice carries down to you, infused with a touch of playful sarcasm, “No, what would make you think that?”

The lighthearted banter in his response brings a smile to your face. Playfully rolling your eyes, you reply, “You know, no one likes a smart-ass.”

Levi’s progress up the tree continues, each branch serving as a stepping stone towards an elevated vantage point. As you watch him navigate with ease, amazement fills your heart.

“That’s clearly not true,” he chimes down at you, his voice carrying a playful undertone. From this distance, his features are obscured, but you can sense the mischievous smirk in his tone. “As long as I can wrap around the base, I can get up most trees, no problem.”

Looking up at him, you suddenly feel a pang of uncertainty. Feeling useless, your hands fidget aimlessly. “What do you want me to do?” you ask, seeking direction as you yearn to be of assistance.

His voice carries down, filled with a mix of determination and trust in your abilities. “I’m going to slice down some larger branches. Make sure to keep out of their way. Can you pile them up so they’ll be easy to drag back later?”

With an eager nod, you move to stand at a safe distance away. Levi's tail coils around the base of a substantial branch, lending stability as he deftly wields his sharp claws, severing the limb with a single, precise swipe. The detached branch teeters momentarily, precariously balanced in his scaly grip.

Levi's urgent call reaches your ears, his voice laced with caution. "I'm going to drop it. Make sure you're out of the way!"

Responding without hesitation, you shout back in affirmation, reassured by the distance between you and the impending descent of the massive branch. Though Levi can clearly discern your safe position, you appreciate the consideration and warning.

With a resounding crash, the branch collides with the ground, creating a thunderous impact that echoes through the meadow. The sheer size of the fallen branch overwhelms you—the trunk of it surpasses the thickness of your leg, while its sprawling branches, adorned with pine needles, extend and dwarf your own stature. Just from looking at it you can tell its weight is substantial, but determination fuels your efforts.

Grasping onto the branch, you summon your strength and begin to move it, inch by inch, towards the center of the meadow. The task is demanding the muscles in your arms and thighs burning from physical exertion, yet you persevere, driven by the knowledge that this collective effort will prove worthwhile. The earth beneath your feet resists, but your determination prevails, and you gradually overcome the resistance, dragging the branch along with grit and determination.

Meanwhile, Levi deftly maneuvers within the tree, seamlessly transitioning from one branch to another, expertly severing more limbs with the swift motion of his claws. His actions are almost as if he anticipates your progress, ensuring a steady supply of branches for you to collect and arrange.

As you laboriously haul one branch into place, he provides a continuous stream of fresh additions, reinforcing the growing pile with each subsequent slash. Together, you create an organized collection of branches, neatly stacked and ready for future use. Somehow, Levi had assured that the first branch had been the largest, each one getting smaller and lighter than the last and the pile rises above the grass.

Beads of sweat begin forming on your brow, forcing you to instinctively wipe them away with the back of your hand. Despite the physical strain, a wide smile splits across your face. The rhythmic movements and the growing pile of branches elicit a sense of accomplishment, fueling your determination to complete the task at hand.

With the sprawling branches now surpassing the height of your waist, you pause for a moment, pondering the quantity needed to adequately line the bottom of the cave. Your curiosity prompts you to voice your thoughts, asking, “How many do we need? Shouldn’t this be more than enough?”

From the canopy above, Levi emits a thoughtful hum, his voice carrying a note of assurance. Leaning over his perch, he eyes the stack you've made so far. “Just a few more,” he replies. The words hang in the air as several more branches succumb to gravity, crashing to the ground. As you move to gather them, Levi once again exhibits remarkable agility, swiftly descending from his lofty perch. With his assistance, the last remaining handful of branches are swiftly gathered to join the pile.

Standing side by side, you survey the accumulated bounty, the amalgamation of your joint efforts. “How are we supposed to drag these back? I can't even imagine how much this weighs..”

“It shouldn't be a problem,” he assures you with a shrug. “We just need to make sure all of the branches are tucked together. It's always a bitch when one falls off midway.”

Nodding in agreement, you crouch down, determined to secure the loose outer branches and create a more manageable load. As you grasp one of the upper branches, your fingers encounter an unexpected sensation—a squirming beneath the soft pine needles. Involuntarily, you let out a startled squeal, instinctively retracting your hand and clutching it protectively against your chest.

A small, blueish-grey head emerges from the pine needles, revealing oozing empty black eyes that fix their hollow gaze upon you. The creature, with its pointed ears and tangled, matted hair, unfurls its firefly-like wings, their faint glow casting an eerie light. In a flurry of motion, it swiftly rises, hissing menacingly mere inches from your face, exposing its rows of black, needle-thin teeth. Panic seizes your heart, causing it to hammer wildly in your chest, and a scream lodges in your throat, ready to burst forth.

Moments later, another of these mysterious creatures breaks free from the branch, joining its companion in a frenzied buzz, circling in front of your face. They twitch and spasm oddly as they hover terrifyingly close, their little mouths snapping hungrily at your skin and the corners of their mouths foaming sickeningly. You manage to muster a shaky plea, your voice quivering in a quiet squeak. “L-Levi!”

In an instant, Levi’s attention is fully on you, his eyes widening in alarm as he gasps your name. With remarkable agility, he swiftly moves to your side, placing himself between you and the hissing, fluttering creatures. Baring his fangs, his expression twists into a display of fierce determination as he emits a loud, angry hiss that sends the creatures scurrying back into the depths of the dark woods at the edge of the meadow.

Turning back to you, Levi’s intense gaze studies your features, his touch gentle as he cups your elbow. Concern lines his face as he asks, “Are you alright?”

Taking a shaky breath, you nod, still feeling a bit dazed from the encounter. “Y-yeah,” you manage to reply, your voice wavering. “W-what were those creatures?”

Levi’s scowl deepens as he answers, “Pixies. Wild ones, by the looks of it.”

Pixies. The word echoes in your mind, evoking both fascination and a newfound wariness. Your next question emerges hesitantly, “W-were they going to… eat me?”

Levi’s response is blunt, his tone conveying a somber reality. “They probably wouldn’t have gotten far. One or two pixies can’t do much damage, but a dozen or more… They can pick someone’s bones clean in a matter of minutes.”

A chill runs down your spine at the realization of the danger you narrowly escaped. The forest suddenly feels more ominous, its enchantment now tinged with a hint of menace. Feeling the weight of your fear, Levi’s expression softens with regret. He releases his hold on your elbow and reaches out to gently touch your arm, seeking to provide comfort. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes sincerely, his voice filled with remorse. “They were so small that I didn’t catch their scent. I should have been more vigilant.”

With the gravity of the situation sinking in, you appreciate Levi’s apology and the understanding he expresses. You take a moment to collect yourself, allowing his touch to soothe your frazzled nerves. Despite the fear that still lingers, you find solace in his presence and the reassurance he offers.

As your pulse slows, frustration surges forth within you, leaving a sour taste in your mouth. "I shouldn't have frozen up like that," you frown, berating yourself for your inaction. The knife hanging from your hip remains untouched, dangling heavily against your thigh. They'd been easy enough to startle away. You should’ve done something other than stand there quivering in fear. The realization hits you hard – there is so much to learn about The Maw, including vital fighting and survival skills.

Levi's gaze meets yours, his expression filled with remorse but also a renewed sense of determination. "We need to be more cautious from now on," he asserts firmly, his voice tinged with resolve. "Especially as the forest comes alive."

You nod, determination replacing the initial shock as the weight of the encounter lingers. Your palm finds the hilt of your knife, a reminder of the need to grow stronger. Swallowing heavily, you cast your gaze upon the large mound of branches before you. "Are we ready to head back?" you ask, steeling yourself for the journey.

Levi responds with a nod, his strength evident as he pulls the trunk of the large bottom-most branch up over his shoulder with a grunt. Despite its massive weight, his shoulders remain steady and upright, his biceps displaying minimal strain. The long length of his tail slips beneath the pile, lifting it effortlessly from the grass. "Stick close," he advises, his voice carrying a sense of caution and protection.

You nod in response, a vague sense of fear prickling along the back of your head as you eye the darkened forest edge. With Levi taking the lead, you fall in step beside him, keeping a close distance as you begin the journey back to the cave.

As you traverse through the forest, the sunlight filters through the dense canopy, casting small dappled patterns on the forest floor. The rhythmic sound of your footsteps is accompanied by the rustling of leaves and the occasional call of birds in the distance. Even with the giant load balanced on his shoulder and tail, Levi moves terrifyingly quietly. The air is filled with the earthy scent of moss and damp soil, intermingled with the sharp fragrance of pine.

Time seems to pass in a blur as you make steady progress, the distance gradually shrinking between you and the safety of the cave. Each step brings you closer to your sanctuary, where the warmth and familiarity of home await.

As you continue walking, a comfortable silence envelops you. Your gaze occasionally drifts towards Levi's swaying hips, a mix of admiration and another indescribable feeling lingering in your thoughts. You find yourself captivated by the way he moves, the easy and thoughtless sway of his hips, completely unaware of the effect he has on you. Despite his size and the sheer strength he possesses, his movements are graceful and nearly soundless. The enticing sway of his hips from side to side holds your attention, as if he were dancing, drawing you closer in some enchanting spell.

Three days. It's been three days since he'd been inside you, tongue, tail and cock. The mere memory has heat surging in your thighs, an open ache of yearning fluttering to life within your core. You believe his recent intensity is due to his approaching heat. He had mentioned that it would arrive soon, within a few days to a week, and there’s something in the way he carries himself that suggests it’s imminent.

You can't help but feel a surge of excitement. The anticipation of what lies ahead leaves you with a dry mouth. Almost involuntarily, your gaze lingers on the delicate strip of pale skin at the small of his waist, tracing the subtle sway of his hip as he gracefully moves beside you.

Shifting close, Levi catches your attention by brushing his arm against yours. Sensing the direction of your thoughts, he breaks the silence, his voice tinged with a hint of uncertainty. "You can still change your mind, you know. I know we already..” His frustration manifests as he runs his fingers through his dark locks. The arm raised above head to balance your haul on his shoulder flexes, the muscles of his bicep straining in a display of tension. He sounds almost resigned, “I wouldn’t blame you if you felt it was too much..”

You interrupt him gently, speaking his name softly. "Levi..." you chide, shooting him a soft, exasperated look.

He lets out a huff, his tone shifting to a more practical note. "You know how to get to the Den if it becomes too much, right? From the entrance of the nest, go straight west and follow the river north."

A small smile tugs at the corner of your lips. "Honestly, I don't even know which way is West.” The frown you get in response is almost severe, complete with a flat deadpan. “But I want you to know, I'm not going to change my mind." The determination in your voice is unmistakable.

“I think-” he starts hesitantly, “I think my heat is going to start tomorrow.” He raises his free hand, lightly pressing his nails into the skin above his heart. “I can feel it already it's- it's never been so intense before.”

“What does it feel like?” you ask, your gaze locked on his face, wanting to understand the depth of what he’s going through.

“Like lava is burning along the edges of my senses,” he explains, head tilting back as his eyes flutter closed in a shudder. Adjusting his grip on the trunk, the muscles of his back twitch in a violent shudder. “It's sort of like an itch that's just out of my reach, so I can't scratch it. One that's gradually getting more and more intense.”

The news fills you with a mix of concern and curiosity. “How long will it last?”

He shrugs, “Every time is different, but i've always been alone before. Sometimes it's lasted a week-” your shock must be evident, because Levi quickly rushes to assure you, “I don't think it'll last as long this time though. I’ve heard that having a partner and forming a bond helps.. satisfy it quicker.”

Finally, as the mouth of the cave comes into view, a sense of relief washes over you. Despite the burden of the branches weighing him down for almost an hour, Levi appears unfazed.

Levi carefully sets the branches near the entrance of the cave, and together, you roll up the pelt bedding, stowing it away in a corner at the far end. Upon closer inspection, you realize the branches are in worse condition than you initially thought. They appear old and scraggly, with most of the needles turned brown from age. Numerous branches are broken, their thin twigs snapped off into dry and messy pieces of wood.

Squinting at the sun, Levi observes its position as it slowly lowers along the middle of the horizon. "It's getting late. I'll go catch us something to eat. Could you clear out the old debris while I'm gone?" he asks.

"Of course," you reply, nodding in agreement. As Levi's tail disappears into the darkness of the woods, you begin to remove the larger branches from the cave. The floor is covered in a tangle of brown needles, and you do your best to sweep them out of the entrance. As you sweep away the brown needles and clear the entrance, your attention is drawn to the small divot in the cave, where Levi keeps his odd collection of books and bobbles. With a clearer view, you realize it's not a natural groove but rather a result of claw marks. Silver scrapes adorn the corners of the crevice, indicating the strength and power behind Levi's claws. The realization prompts questions to swirl in your mind. Just how strong is he? How dangerous can his claws be?

While contemplating these thoughts, you continue tidying up, appreciating the utility of the small brush you retrieved from Levi's collection of odds and ends. It's a versatile tool that he typically uses to clean up ashes from the fire or to remove mud from his scales. Its bristles serve you well in clearing out the debris, making the cave entrance cleaner and more inviting.

By the time you finish clearing the floor, Levi returns, his catch of the day slung over his shoulder. However, to your surprise, it's not a small game like a rabbit but a much larger animal— a brown deer.

"An entire deer?" you exclaim, astonished, as you assess the limp form draped over Levi's shoulder.

He nods, a hint of pride in his eyes. "My metabolism is revving up again, and considering the upcoming days, we might not have much time to eat.” He places the deer carcass down onto the grass near the cave’s entrance. “I'll skin it later. Let's focus on finishing the preparations for the nest before the sun sets.”

You nod in understanding, realizing that daylight is fading quickly. Shuffling the brush between your hands, you add, “I’ve just finished clearing out the loose needles.”

“Thank you,” he praises softly, his eyes scanning the area you've just cleared away. “You didn't do a terrible job.”

The half-compliment brings a sense of satisfaction to your chest, especially considering his earlier criticism at the creek. "The branches you grabbed are much larger than the ones from before," you comment, noting the massive size of the bottommost branches.

He hums in agreement, his claws effortlessly slicing free a handful of smaller branches that jut out from the main body. “We’ll use these, so there aren't any excessively thick twigs below. The pine is supposed to help protect us from the layer of cold stone, but we don't want it to be a bitch to lay on. The thicker trunks will serve as good firewood for next year."

Pulling your knife from your hip, you join him in slicing free all of the smaller branches. Following his lead, you carefully sort through the branches, ensuring that each one is no larger than the width of your finger. Together, you work diligently, and soon enough, the entire floor is covered in a thick layer of fresh green pine. The scent of pine fills the air, lending a refreshing and earthy aroma to the nest. With the branches in place, you roll the pelts back over, and it’s as if nothing has changed—except for the improved comfort and insulation provided by the fresh bedding.

Satisfied with your work, you step back into the entrance to admire the transformed nest. Behind you, Levi effortlessly stacks the empty branches into a pile, ready to be dealt with later. Using his claws with practiced precision, he swiftly skins the deer, bringing a substantial pile of pink meat to the fireside. He starts to work, swiftly impaling the pieces on sharp sticks to cook them over the fire.

"I'll take over," you wave him off, eager to contribute to the meal preparation. Smiling softly in appreciation, he curls up to sit by your side.

As you tend to the cooking, Levi's fingers deftly weave some of the leftover small branches together. Intrigued by his actions, you observe as a thick rounded edge quickly takes shape. "I..." he starts distractedly, his fingers continuing their intricate twining. "I might be different in the morning. I might wake up with my heat..."

The thought thrills you, and Levi's heated gaze confirms that he senses your excitement. "I'm fine with that," you respond, a playful glint in your eyes.

Levi nods, his expression becoming more intense. "You might want to sleep naked," he advises, his voice low and suggestive. His eyes flicker down, catching the fabric of your blouse, before bouncing back up. His shoulders hunch shyly. "I don't want to tear them."

A mischievous smile spreads across your face. "You'd just fix it again," you note, a hint of anticipation in your voice. "Probably a good idea though. Oh! I never thanked you for fixing my coat!"

He rumbles softly, his voice filled with warmth. "It was my fault it got torn in the first place."

As the fire crackles and the enticing aroma of cooked meat fills the nest, you find your attention drawn to the rhythmic shifting of Levi's lithe fingers. The small twigs are swiftly woven together, forming a flat sheet that continues to grow, revealing a glimpse of his skilled craftsmanship. Soon enough, the pine coated branches sprawl across his lap in a thick, square-ish plate.

With a determined expression, Levi lifts the woven sheet and carefully positions it in front of the scraggly entrance of the cave, effectively closing off the outside world. The interwoven branches create a natural barrier, providing some privacy and protection. In the top right corner, there is enough space for the smoke from the fire to billow free, ensuring ventilation within the nest.

He's closed you in. As you swallow heavily and gaze at the carefully braided expanse of verdant pine, you can't help but feel a mix of anticipation and excitement. Rather than feeling trapped or confined, the enclosure created by Levi's handiwork ignites a thrilling sensation that tingles at the back of your mind. The intimate space seems to foster an atmosphere of closeness and heightened emotions, fueling the excitement coursing through your veins.

By your side, the chunks of meat sizzle and gain a tempting char. You swallow, feeling your stomach growl in response to the mouthwatering smell. Gesturing vaguely at Levi's handiwork, you start unevenly, “Wh- why did you?”

Levi’s expression softens, his eyes meeting yours. “Because I care about you,” he replies sincerely. “During my heat, I want to provide for you and ensure your comfort.”

The warmth of his words fills the air, and you can’t help but feel a surge of gratitude and affection for him. As the meat continues to cook, you find yourself drawn closer to him, the anticipation of the coming days mingling with the scent of the meal, creating a sense of intimacy and shared purpose.

His voice continues as he tucks up tightly against you, his tail encircling your waist and his arm draped across your back. The intensity in his eyes returns, a deep and burgeoning heat that sends shivers of anticipation down your spine. "It also gives us some privacy," he explains, his voice laced with a mix of need and desire. "My instincts are kicking in and they want to ensure we aren't disturbed."

Nose flaring, Levi reaches across you to grab some meat, his movements driven by both hunger and urgency. “You should eat,” he urges, pressing the meat kabob in your direction, his voice low and husky. “I don’t think we’ll be able to get more food until things have… settled.”

Concern fills your voice as you reply, “Hopefully there’s enough water in the cooking pot.” Reaching over, you grab the proffered stick, savoring the juicy, thick slices of deer as you quickly devour them.

As Levi gorges himself on the meat, tearing it apart easily with his sharp fangs, you follow suit, consuming the food with equal fervor under his watchful eye. He encourages you to eat more, emphasizing the need for energy.

By the time you both finish, the sun has almost disappeared beyond the horizon, casting a warm orange glow through the covered entrance of the cave. Levi’s worried expression becomes more pronounced as he tugs at the hem of your shirt, his thumb tracing gentle circles on the fabric. He presses soft kisses to the sleeve, a mixture of affection and concern in his voice. “We… we should sleep. You’ll need your rest before it starts.”

The weight of his words settles in, and you nod in agreement, feeling a mixture of anticipation and apprehension. The night ahead holds unknown experiences and uncharted territories, but you trust Levi to guide you through it.

As you and Levi prepare for sleep, he assists you in removing your clothes, handling them with care as he folds them and sets them aside. Then, he enfolds you in his arms, drawing your chest flush against his own and guiding your face to nestle against his neck. His tail wraps around you, providing a comforting weight akin to a cozy blanket.

With tender lips pressing against the top of your head, he whispers softly into your hair, expressing his concerns for the next day. His fingers delicately weave through your hair, offering soothing and affectionate gestures. "I'm sorry if I'm... if I'm too much tomorrow," he murmurs, his voice filled with a mix of vulnerability and care.

Nuzzling into his chest, eyes heavy with fatigue, you reassure him softly. "I'll be fine, Levi," you assure him, your words laced with understanding. "I trust you."

Guided by the gentleness of his touch and the security of his presence, you gradually surrender to a peaceful slumber. The sensation of his scales against your skin creates a cocoon of intimacy and protection, fostering a deep sense of comfort. Wrapped in Levi's embrace, you find solace and rest, ready to face whatever challenges the coming days may bring.

You wake as a loud hiss pierces the air, accompanied by the sensation of fangs pressing against your throat. Blinking to awareness, your body tenses with a surge of adrenaline. The sharp pinpricks send a jolt of pain through your senses, and a deep rumbling growl reverberates through you, jarring your awareness.

Instinct kicks in, and your mind races to assess the situation. With a surge of urgency, you realize that the dynamics have shifted, and the once-familiar embrace of Levi now feels threatening and dangerous. His heat had started. You become acutely aware of the primal instincts at play, reminding you of the unfamiliar nature of your partner. Gasping for breath, your feet kick frantically and your hands squirm at your sides, desperate to find purchase on his shoulders.

Struggling against the darkness surrounding you, your eyes slowly adjust to the dim moonlit beams that manage to penetrate the barred entryway. Trembling, your voice catches in your throat as the sharp points tighten around your windpipe. A shuddering breath escapes Levi’s lips, and the hot length of his tongue slides across your throat, leaving behind a wet heat. In a moment of urgency, your hands reach up, entangling in the dark tresses at the back of his head, tugging with urgency. “L-Levi,” you manage to squeak out.

With a deep, rumbling growl, the sharp grasp around your throat loosens. Levi hovers above you, his features twisted into a raw and primal display. Moonlight reflects off the sharp points of his glistening fangs, appearing even longer and sharper as they hang menacingly above your face.

In the dim light, his eyes emit a luminous glow, while the whites shine with an unsettling brightness. His pupils, like tiny pinpricks, are sharply defined, enclosed within a shade of deep burning charcoal grey. The air in the small cave becomes suffocatingly hot as his chest heaves, his mouth releasing a sticky, balmy heat. As he gazes down at you, his chest swells with a deep rumble, and his nails dig painfully into your back.

Lacking any of his usual care, the grasp is far from gentle. You think you feel a wet heat welling up from where the sharp points are digging into your skin, the telltale sign of blood beginning to trickle from around the tips of his claws.

Squirming, you notice a warm slickness coating your bottom half. He's leaking, practically gushing, and his cock is already out, jabbing your belly and leaving a slick warm ooze against your skin.

"Maaate," he hisses, his urgency evident as he fervently licks at the skin of your throat. In the scorching intensity of his heat, it seems as though all rational thought has vanished, replaced by a primal instinct. Levi's presence has completely vanished, replaced by a relentless beast.

His tail coils tightly around you, its scales constricting to the point where movement becomes impossible. Your arms and legs are firmly immobilized within its sinewy grasp, leaving you completely restrained. Your heart stammers, its rhythm faltering in response to the overwhelming surge of fear and anticipation coursing through your veins.

“Maaaaate,” he growls again. His hips jolt and more wetness oozes between you. There's so much of it, warm and slick dripping to coat the entirety of your stomach and thighs. You can feel the tip of him throb, leaking a thick trail of white along your abdomen. His face contorts and those dark glowing eyes delve deep into your own. It's a question, you realize. Even out of his mind with lust, Levi is confirming that you're okay with this.

“Y-yeah,” you manage to gasp, your breath catching in your throat. With an ardent nod, you express your agreement. “I’m your mate.”

He growls in response, his tail trembling with excitement as it continues to coil around you. Leaning forward, he affectionately nuzzles his nose against yours with a happy hum. Nudging your nose into his, you pull him into a shallow lip lock that quickly becomes heated. Hot breath bathing your face, it's like he's drinking the taste of you with a pleased hum. He moans, the sharp points of his teeth pressing into the supple skin of your bottom lip, inducing a slight prickle of pain and flooding your senses with the metallic taste of iron.

"Shit, Levi," you gasp, the metallic taste of your own blood lingering on your lips. Surprisingly, rather than deter you, it only serves to further ignite your desires, sending a surge of intense heat coursing through your veins at an alarming pace. Urgently pressing your thighs together, you deepen the kiss, pushing your mouth against his with an eager sigh, yearning for the sound of his pleased little moans and hums.

As your tongue brushes against the sharp row of his fangs, you can't help but notice that they are longer, their pointed tips resembling tiny blades. Running your tongue along his incisor, the taste of iron intensifies, flooding your senses once again.

In response, he releases a loud, pleasure-filled moan, his lips fervently pushing and pulling against yours in an unending display of passion. Drawing in a sharp breath, he inhales your scent deeply, releasing a hot gust of air that tickles your cheek. His hands firmly grip your hips, matching the tight and pulsating hold of the scales enveloping you. Jolting, your hips roll into his with a needy whine. Trapped between you, his cock throbs, the slick mess between you only growing.

In a flurry of motion, the coil of his tail suddenly twists you over onto your hands and knees. His claws drag down your bare back in one long sweep, the edges barely grazing your skin. The touch sends a long rolling shutter down your spine. Parts of his tail wrap around each of your thighs, firmly holding them apart under his intense, fiery gaze. Another wider section of his tail remains securely coiled around your waist, exerting a tight and twisting pressure, effectively restricting your movements.

Trapped. You feel trapped, but fear doesn't fill your heart. Instead, an amalgamation of anticipation, curiosity, and desire takes its place. The loss of control intensifies the throbbing sensation in your chest, as you surrender to the captivating and passionate experience unraveling before you. It’s a mixture of emotions that adds an exhilarating edge to the encounter, heightening your senses.

You can feel the intensity of his gaze burning between your thighs, drinking in the sight of the slick that's already leaking to the crease of your thighs. His hands shift from your waist, spreading your ass cheeks wide. “Wet,” he growls excitedly, pressing his teeth against the curve of your right cheek. The sharp edge causes a sudden jolt of sensation, making you shudder within the tight grip of his hold. “Mine,” he asserts possessively, hot breath bathing your soaked center.

Apparently he can only express himself with singular words, limited by the overwhelming sensations and desires coursing through him. Each word he utters carries a weight of raw emotion, stripped down to its core essence, conveying his primal instincts and unbridled passion in the simplest yet most intense way.

In response to his limited but powerful words, you find yourself trembling with a mixture of vulnerability and surrender. With a shudder, your toes curl into the soft bedding below. The weight of your admission, “Y-yours. All yours,” hangs in the air, expressing your deep longing and desire to belong to him completely.

As his thumbs shift down to spread open your folds, you clench helplessly beneath his gaze. Watching you flutter, the growl that leaves his chest can only be described as a whine. “Pretty,” he groans, voice thick with desire. Blood rushes to fill your face with heat, causing your face to flush with a mixture of embarrassment and arousal.

You feel so open, with him behind you looking straight inside your entrance. Part of you wishes you could see him. You long to see his face, to witness the expressions and emotions that accompany this new dynamic. It feels different from before, and amidst the excitement, you find yourself yearning for the soft, reassuring weight of his gaze.

Squirming in embarrassment, the tight grasp around you suddenly tightens severely. The section of his hold encircling your ribs constricts, nearly squeezing the air from your lungs. Simultaneously, one of his hands applies strong pressure between your shoulder blades, its force posing a risk of toppling you forward.

In a sharp, hissing tone, he commands, "Still." The urgency and authority in his voice demand your compliance, leaving little room for hesitation.

Something prods your folds, making you gasp in shock, jolting your hips forward despite his warning growl. Nails dig into your cheeks, spreading you wide, and then something wet and hot slides along the crease of your folds in one long stroke from bottom to top. It's his tongue, you realize with a shaky gasp. He's bent over behind you, claws digging into your skin as he hungrily sucks at your folds. A hot, shaky breath bathes your folds. “Mine,” he breathes hotly into your cunt.

Levi tongues urgently at your entrance, lapping mindlessly along the length of your folds. It's aimless and frantic, pleased groans buzzing along your sensitive skin with every flick of his tongue. Untouched, your clit aches. Spit soaks your core, dripping down to bathe the crease of your thighs.

“Ahh, Levi,” you moan, struggling to hold still. Every part of you seems to throb, desperate for more stimulation. Raising your hips, you try to guide him with a needy whine, “H-higher. My clit. Please!”

The only response you get is an eager huff of air from his nose, blown directly into the crease of your ass. He's preparing you, you realize, as the forked tip of his tongue presses searchingly into your hole. He's soaking your already slick entrance with his spit in preparation for you to take his cock.

He works diligently, stretching your rim with the tip of his tongue and shallowly lapping inward. As you thoughtlessly roll your rolling hips into his mouth, his nails dig into the skin of your ass, pulling you in with a heady groan. Working his way deeper and deeper, the slick appendage writhes deep into your guts. It’s like he’s transformed into a primal, untamed creature, hungry and thoughtless. Every ravenous moan emanating from him resonates deep within you, stirring a primal response that shakes you to your core. Your clit hasn't even been touched and yet your thighs are already shaking.

Eventually, he withdraws, seemingly satisfied. Aching and empty, you can't help but jolt back searchingly, eager for more of the hot slide of his tongue. You can hear his lips smack with a wet and pleased hum.

“Mate?” Levi’s voice echoes once more, a deep rumble filled with longing and uncertainty. He rises, pressing his chest firmly against your back, creating a closeness that envelops you in his presence. The sharp points of his fangs delicately graze against the sensitive skin of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. With a deep yearning, his hips begin to sway, tracing a slow and desperate circle. Slick scales glide along the back of your thighs and the length of his cock drags teasingly along your folds with a boiling wet heat.

“Y-yeah,” you answer dazedly, mind reeling. Your hips jolt as the blunt curve of his head bumps into the ring of your entrance. It spurts, leaking a hot sticky mess along your folds.

Chest rumbling happily, he works the tip of himself just past the ring of your entrance in short little jabs. Then, he fills you with one smooth stroke, the glide slick and easy.

“Shit,” he curses, his voice carrying a rare moment of clarity amidst the overwhelming sensations. It’s the most cognizant he has sounded thus far, breaking through the primal haze that engulfs him. He holds still for several months, his fingers working soothing circles into your hip. As you both immerse in the intensity of the moment, you feel the pulsating tightness of his coiled form, vibrating with pleasure all around you. It's like the coiled length of him is throbbing, matching the beat of his cock as it pulses inside you.

"L-Levi," you strain, your voice trembling with a mixture of pleasure and need. The name escapes your lips as a fervent plea, a testament to the overwhelming sensations that consume you. Every nerve in your body feels alive. Levi hasn’t even moved yet, but just the weight of him, over and inside you, is enough to make your toes curl and your breath catch. Taking short, heavy breaths, you feel overwhelmed just by the feel of him: heavy and big and solid.

He pulls most of the way out with a filthy, slick squelch that makes your ears ring. Just the tip of him remains, throbbing tucked into the quivering ring of your entrance. His breath shudders, causing his chest to hollow against your back. A deep groan begins to build at the base of his chest, resonating with a primal intensity. The sound emerges from deep within him, a raw expression of pleasure and desire that escapes his lips. The grip around you tightens, encompassing you with a firm hold. One hand wraps tightly around your thigh, forcing your knees to widen and your back to bow. His chest fills again with a shuddered breath and his other hand pulls at your hip, urging you to meet him as he fills you with a hard, sharp thrust.

"F-fuck! Levi!" you wail unevenly, your voice filled with a mix of pleasure and surprise. Your fingers scramble against the bedding, seeking an anchor in the midst of the overwhelming sensations. The strength of his thrust propels you forward, causing you to bounce involuntarily. Instinctively, you press your forehead into the soft pelt below, seeking a momentary refuge in its comforting texture. The intensity of the experience leaves you gasping for breath, caught between ecstasy and surrender.

With that singular thrust, his short moment of sanity ends and the beast returns with a deep rumbling growl. “Mine,” he repeats in a fevered growl, fucking into you mercilessly, his hips jolting so hard and fast that you can't even begin to try to meet him. It's so much different than the last time he was inside you, so much more fevered and intense in comparison and the experience is completely out of your control. It's like you're just being used for his pleasure, a thought that sends your mind reeling. “Mine- mine- mine-”

“Ah ah ah -shit-” you cry, eyes pinching tight as your body rocks completely out of your control. The angle is excruciatingly tight and the delicious friction of his cock dragging along your walls is enough to make you drool uncontrollably into the bedding. The spongy tip of him drags against your g-spot with every forward stroke, making you whimper and throb helplessly. The wet slap of his scales against your puffy and oversensitive petals has you nearly mindless.

He penetrates you with an incredible depth that leaves you gasping for breath and squirming in response. The sensation is overwhelming, pushing you to the limits of pleasure and sending waves of sensation coursing through your body.

Overwhelmed, you shift your weight from your hands to your forearms, burying one shoulder into the bedding as you arch your back. Wrapped tightly in his scaly grasp, he continues to give you more and more, rendering you utterly helpless to resist. Hard and fast, you can't do anything but take it. The intensity grows, unrelenting and fast-paced, and you find yourself unable to do anything but surrender to it. The sensations become nearly overwhelming, teetering on the edge of painful overstimulation. “F-fuck! Levi! Slower! Slower, please!” you beg, your plea escaping your lips without thought, desperate for some respite.

Suddenly, his hips press hard and impossibly deep into you and still, his cock lurching inside you with a heady throb. The hand on your thigh shifts, gliding through the sticky mess between you to swirl at your clit. "Oh, shit! Ah! God-" you gasp, feeling your back shudder and stretch as your muscles spasm uncontrollably.

With a grunt, he resumes his pace, thrusting harder and filling you in a way that overwhelms your senses. Your knees tremble under the intensity of the moment, barely able to support you. Between you, Levi is still oozing slickness from around the base of his cock. With every thrust, you can feel wet droplets splash to coat the backs of your thighs.

As you fall forward, your chest meets the soft pelt beneath you, sinking into its comforting embrace. The coil of his tail tightly wrapped around your belly keeps your hips elevated, keeping you up and spread for him to fill you again and again. The intense sensation of his thumb swirling and gliding over your sensitive bud has you trembling uncontrollably. Your gasps for air become loud and desperate, and your thighs begin to shake with the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your body.

Overwhelmed by the intense sensations and emotions coursing through you, tears stream down your face as sobs escape your trembling lips. Your fingers instinctively claw desperately into the bedding beneath you, seeking something to hold onto amidst the overwhelming pleasure and vulnerability. The heavy knot in your stomach tightens agonizingly, reaching its peak as pleasure courses through your body. With a shudder that ripples through you, you reach your climax, releasing a guttural scream of ecstasy that echoes through the air. The intensity of the moment consumes you completely, leaving you breathless and trembling in its wake.

You’re aware, distantly, of him cursing and pressing himself flat to your back, his face dropping to the curve of your neck, his hands holding your hips and fucking up into you faster and faster until, with one deep thrust, he stills. He spills inside you with a filthy groan, throbbing heavily.

His hips jolt in several broken thrusts as more and more warmth splashes against your walls. It's so much. He comes so much, you can feel the thick spurts that follow every heady throb. As Levi growls deeply, the low rumble reverberates through his chest, creating vibrations that resonate within both of you. The intensity of the sound sends shivers down your spine, and you can feel the vibrations spreading throughout your entire body, from head to toe. Suddenly he shifts, jolting impossibly deeper inside you as a sharp pain appears at the pulse of your throat. He's biting you, you realize, humming eagerly as his fangs dig deep into the side of your neck. Oddly enough, it doesn't really hurt. The only bit of pain is when the sharpened row of teeth initially clamp and sink through your skin. After that the only sensations you know are heat and pleasure.

As his fangs remain firmly embedded in the side of your neck, the conflicting mix of sensations confuses your senses, but you cannot deny the unusual pleasure that accompanies his bite. As you continue and throb and flutter with the tail end of your peak, something at the base of his cock swells painfully wide to form a warm and heavy bulb that stretches your rim painfully wide.

"Wh-what?" you stammer, your mind dazed and disoriented. You can feel the tremor in your voice, but it's as if the sound is muted, lost in the overwhelming haze. The sensations coursing through your body have left you in a state of confusion and sensory overload, making it difficult to fully process or comprehend what is happening around you. Nudging his hips forward, the stretch of your rim is nearly excruciating as he continues to work the knot deeper. He's plugging you up, keeping the copious amount of seed that's sloshing around inside you tucked right where he wants it. The intense mixture of pleasure and pain sends shockwaves through your body, pushing you to the edge once more.

You can't be sure, but you think that you black out for a moment. The first thing that you consciously think about as you come back to your senses is that Levi is warm above you, comforting as he boxes you in; the second is that your ears are ringing. You clench and unclench your hands a few just to try and start to get that far-away feeling out of your limbs — your thighs have already started to ache and your toes burn from being locked in a tight curl.

A feeling of fullness startles you into gasping, and you realize that Levi hasn't pulled out yet. He's still inside you as far as can be, the scales of his pelvis pressed flat to your entrance as the swollen flesh at his base continues to pulse and press eagerly into the ring of your entrance.

You feel Levi's hand tracing the curve of your hip soothingly, his touch creating gentle circles on your skin. The ringing in your ears gradually subsides, allowing you to hear him calling your name softly. "L-Levi," you groan, your eyes fluttering open.

He calls your name once more, his voice slightly rough but noticeably more coherent. The beastly presence has receded, and Levi's awareness has returned, though you remain uncertain for how long it will last.

The swell at his base finally gives, lessening just enough so he can pull free from you with a wet pop. He swiftly turns you around, his hands firmly cupping your shoulders as he searches your face with a worried expression. "Are you okay?" he asks, genuine concern evident in his eyes.

"Yeah," you wheeze, feeling dazed and trying to regain your breath. Stretching out on your back, your gulp eagerly at the sticky air. "I'm fine."

Finally, you get to look at him. Drinking him in after what seems like forever, you note that Levi’s chest is adorned with spotty flushes, his cheeks and ears cast a rosy hue that speaks volumes about his state. His disheveled appearance mirrors your own state of composure and an odd sense of gratification washes over you. His chest rises and falls rapidly, his breaths coming in gasps as he greedily inhales air to replenish his oxygen-depleted lungs. Beads of sweat glide down his forehead, tracing a path down his neck and along his chest, evidence of the intensity and exertion. His eyes, half-lidded and darker than you've ever seen them before, possess an alluring depth that draws you in. In their depths, you witness a potent blend of desire, passion, and vulnerability, reflecting the profound connection forged between you.

He still looks concerned, so you quickly assure him with a comforting pat on his shoulder. “I’m fine. I promise. Just.. dazed and a bit sore.”

In response to your assurance, he frowns momentarily, but upon searching your eyes, he accepts your words. Leaning over you, he delicately licks at the mark he left on your neck, his actions infused with a blend of tenderness and possessiveness. "You're mine," he breathes, his voice carrying a tone of awe and disbelief. The declaration reveals a profound sense of connection and a newfound realization of the bond between you.

The mark on your neck radiates a burning, intense heat, distinct from the familiar sensation of healing. Intrigued, you raise your hand to touch the wound, feeling the distinct imprints of each of his teeth—shallower where his molars had pressed and significantly deeper where his fangs had pierced your skin. Finding the deepest indent, right on the hollow between your shoulder and throat, you ask, “Why'd you bite me?” Surprisingly, there's no blood under your thumb, only warmth and an unconventional sensation of pleasure.

Levi, with a softness in his voice, explains. "It's a mating mark," he murmurs, his words resembling a gentle coo. "If the bond is accepted, it will take on the color of my scales. Everyone who sees it will know that you're mine."

The weight of the proclamation fills your throat with emotion. You can't help but inquire, "Am I supposed to give you a mark in return?"

Levi shrugs, his face retaining an unusual tenderness. "I don't think you can," he replies, pressing a quick kiss to the broken skin. "But I appreciate the offer."

He gasps, thumb trailing along the deepest part, sending a strange surge of pleasure directly to your thighs. “It's already turning black,” he breathes excitedly. The look of excited awe on his face makes your heart throb, a soft smile forming on your lips.

“Of course it is,” you reply, your smile growing as you meet his gaze. As he hovers over you, a joyful glint in his eyes, he playfully nudges his nose against yours.

As he shuffles forward over you, the movement causes the wet tip of his cock to jab into your thigh. You gasp, “Y-your cock didn't go back in?” The last time, it'd disappeared the moment he finished coming, and yet right now it's bobbing between you, heavy and full. It's so odd to see it out, the sensitive grey skin dangling free from the wet and shiny scales of his abdomen. With every vein bulging from the skin, you can practically see his blood flowing and filling the organ, making it lurch as Levi’s breath audibly catches in his throat. It's slick and shiny, the head such a dark swollen red that makes your mouth water. It throbs heavily beneath your gaze, the tip leaking a thrilling white that streaks your thigh with warmth.

"It won't go down until my heat is over," he explains through clenched teeth. His muscles visibly twitch and his shoulders tighten, revealing the struggle for control he's experiencing. The intensity of his desire is evident in his strained expression.

You ask him with concern, "Are you okay?" His chest rises and falls heavily, his breathing becoming labored. His eyes flutter, filled with desire, as his awareness starts to fade away.

As you shift, his gaze darts down between your thighs, widening at the sight. “Look at that,” he coos heatedly. The blunt tip of his finger prods your folds, spreading your labia wide so he can look hungrily at your stretched and quivering entrance. You can feel some of his hot seed ooze free to trickle along your folds.

He gasps, mouth popping open and eyes locking into the white leaking from your folds like it's the most fascinating sight in the world. Using the tips of his fingers, he glides the sticky warmth up and down your folds. The hungry look in his eyes tells you that, if not for the sharp points of his claws, he'd fuck the seed back into you.

Levi's voice is low and possessive as he declares, "Mine." In an instant, the primal beast within him resurfaces. His eyes, already dark, seem to deepen even further, conveying a predatory intensity. Surging forward so that he holds you captive between his forearms, the way he gazes at you sends a shiver down your spine, making you feel both vulnerable and desired, like prey in the presence of a predator.

Pressing his chest flats to yours, he slips inside you in one smooth stroke. This time, he fucks into from above, his grip so tight around your hips that you know it'll bruise. This time, when he pulls out, his thrust back in is somehow even harder, deeper; and any semblance of a thought you could have come up with is gone, just like that. You release a shaky gasp, and Levi responds with a primal growl, his breath hot against your ear. "Mine," he hisses possessively, sinking his teeth into the sensitive flesh of your throat, marking you once again with his claim. The mixture of pleasure and pain sends a jolt of electricity through your body, intensifying the connection between you.

Caught in a whirlwind of overwhelming sensations, you're unable to articulate coherent words, reduced to a symphony of whimpers and moans. Your legs instinctively wrap around Levi, desperate to match the rhythm of his rolling thrusts. The change in angle ignites something new within you, causing your back to arch and your entire body to convulse with pleasure. Waves of ecstasy ripple through you, leaving you trembling and breathless in the wake of the intense sensation. You come again, barely feeling the buildup before you fall over the edge.

Moaning loudly, Levi deftly maneuvers you with a swift movement of his tail, repositioning you so that you're lying on your front, your chest pressed against the soft pelt beneath you. The firm grip of his tail keeps your hips elevated, allowing for deeper penetration. His breath hot against your ear, “Again,” he hisses with an insatiable hunger, relentlessly driving into you with a powerful and unending rhythm that sends your mind spiraling into a realm of sheer ecstasy. Each thrust churns and twists, overwhelming your senses and leaving you lost in a maelstrom of pleasure.

Overwhelmed by the intensity of the sensations coursing through your body, you whimper in protest, unable to believe that you can continue. “I can't! I can't!” you scream out in a desperate plea. Yet, despite your protests, your body betrays you. Your hips instinctively meet his thrusts, your inner walls clenching around him in a desperate attempt to hold on to the pleasure that threatens to consume you. With your hips raised, Levi is able to sneak a hand under you to play with your clit. You shriek, one of your legs kicking feebly at the overstimulation, tears overflowing from your eyes, but Levi just coos at you and keeps going.

It feels good, too good; you’ve never felt like this before. Trembling and oversensitive, you feel simultaneously on the very precipice of an orgasm and too exhausted and rung out to ever come again, simultaneously certain you can’t and certain you will. Each thrust pushes you closer to the edge, the pleasure mingling with a hint of pain that amplifies the sensations coursing through your veins. The climax crashes over you like a tidal wave, a mixture of ecstasy and agony that leaves you gasping and trembling in its wake.

Time and sensation both start to bleed together after that. Your orgasm stretches on forever and it’s hard to say when or if it even really ends; it leaves you gasping for air, legs twitching, constantly trying to sink down to the bed, the coil around your waist constantly keeping you up. He murmurs things now and then to the air, your back, the nape of your neck, but you aren't coherent enough to try to understand it — you feel floaty and wonderful, so euphoric that it almost hurts, crying out for more even as you wonder if you can take more at all.

Levi fucks you and fucks you and fucks you and you come what feels like constantly, getting a few brief moments of dizzy reprieve to suck in some desperate breaths before you’re shuddering into an orgasm yet again. It never seems to end, and even as you lie there prone in a puddle, you don’t want it to end. You want all of it —

“Mine! Mine! Mine,” he growls in your ear, releasing pleased little hisses that echo nonstop in your ears. The repetitive echoes of his possessive hisses and moans reverberate through your mind, sending shivers down your spine. The intensity of his words, coupled with the overwhelming sensations coursing through your body, create a whirlwind of pleasure and surrender. It feels like your brain has become a warm liquid puddle, oozing right out from your ear as his warm breath bathes your senses.

As you gasp for breath, the only response you can manage is a breathless affirmation of your complete surrender to him. “Yours,” you repeat again and again in an endless mantra.

Time loses all meaning. For some time, all you know is the hard snap of his hips and the hot slide of his cock. The scent of sex and sweat is so thick in the air that it's almost difficult to breathe. You lose track of how many times you come and how many times he works the rounded swell of his knot past your rim. The only sounds you know are the pleasured grunts and groans alongside the rapid filthy slap of slick scales on skin.

Full. You feel so full, all of your insides filled to bursting, coated with his sticky seed. You can't tell if the filthy slick sounds are from the slick gushing between you or the copious amount of seed sloshes inside you with every thrust. Everytime his knot pops free, it leaks from you in a long constant flow to cake your inner thighs and paint the bedding with a slick mess. He mourns the loss by adding more and more in an endless cycle.

As Levi's moments of awareness eventually begin to lengthen, you start to witness the stark contrast between the beast's intense, primal strength and the tender gentleness that emerges when he regains control. In those fleeting moments, he becomes a nurturing presence, focused on soothing and caring for you.

After his release, he immediately directs his attention to your well-being. With soft, careful licks, he tends to the nicks and cuts he's left on your skin, his tongue offering a soothing touch that promotes healing. His efforts extend beyond the surface wounds, as he seeks to ease the soreness that lingers in your thighs and core, bringing you comfort and relief.

However, the intimate act of his healing touch quickly reignites the fire within him. The surge of desire and the primal instincts that drive him overwhelm his control once again, leading to another passionate encounter. It becomes a cycle of tenderness followed by unrestrained passion, each phase intertwining in a dance of intensity and intimacy.

Despite the unpredictable nature of Levi's shifts between the beast and his gentle self, you find solace in the moments of tenderness he offers, cherishing the connection and care that shines through even amidst the raw, consuming desire.

By the end of the first day, Levi’s regained enough control to focus on basic needs. He insists that both of you eat some leftover deer, heat simmering in his eyes as he watches your throat bob with every swallow. His control snaps shortly after you eagerly gulp down some fresh water. With nighttimes soft starlight filtering softly through the entrance, the final time he fucks you is much slower, though no less frantic and heated.

In the aftermath of your intense encounter, Levi embraces you in a protective huddle of his scaly body and strong muscles. His presence is a comforting shield, offering a sense of security and warmth. You observe him as he quickly succumbs to a deep slumber, his usually alert and intense demeanor replaced by a profound exhaustion. It strikes you as odd to witness him in such a vulnerable and peaceful state, completely surrendered to sleep. Normally, he struggles so much. It’s a rare sight to witness him in such a vulnerable and peaceful state, completely surrendered to sleep. The sight warms your heart.

As you observe him snoring softly, warm puffs of air escaping his lips in a steady rhythm, your thumb instinctively finds the healed mark along the side of your throat. It serves as a constant reminder of the profound connection you now share. His. You're his now. His mate, a permanent, lifelong connection. Just the same, he's yours as well, even if you can't leave behind your own mark on his throat. You find solace in the fact that you’ve shared an intense connection that has left both of you physically and emotionally spent. As you drift off to sleep, nestled within his protective embrace, you feel a deep sense of contentment and safety, alongside soreness and satisfied exhaustion.

You awake to a gust of hot breath in your ear, resulting in a long shutter dragging down your spine. He's behind you, spooning you as he works the tip of himself past your rim. You're so soaked that he must have already mouthed you in preparation.

This time, he fucks you roughly, pulling one of your legs back up and over his hip with a tight clasp. This time, his knot doesn't swell. Instead, he plugs you with the tip of his tail. The entirety of your day is spent in a sticky, wet daze of pleasure.

After two long and intense days, Levi's heat finally subsides, the overwhelming waves of desire gradually diminishing. As the heat fades, a sense of relief washes over both of you, replacing the raw intensity with a calmness and a renewed sense of connection. The exhaustion from the passionate encounters lingers, leaving you both in need of rest and recovery. With the fading of his heat, a new phase of your relationship begins. An entirely new life, one with unknown twists and turns, lies just over the horizon.

#naga!levi #levi x reader #levi/reader #levi x reader smut #levi ackerman smut #tw; snakes #tw; knotting #n.sfw #fem!reader

[moxley]

The Summoning - Haarlep/Ascended!Raphael, Explicit - 3400

READ ON AO3 INSTEAD

Summary:

The House's defences are all down, including the golden veil of the boudoir, and through the archway, Haarlep can see the ever-burning skies of Avernus beyond, and they can see a tumbling shape silhouetted against a sun that never quite sets. The shape is harm coming home to roost, to take its temper out on the broken bricks of the House, to lay blame in the throats of anyone foolish enough to stay. Haarlep leaves bloody, sticky footprints on the stone floors, padding towards the balcony, watching as the shape becomes a monster—their monster—and swoops down. After an attack on the House of Hope forces Raphael to take on his ascended form, he comes home. Haarlep is the only one who waits for him.

There's smoke and screaming. Most of the inhabitants of the House of Hope are incorporeal, spirits, but there is plenty of blood. Those that burst into goreshowers to become imps and hellboars roam the halls, snuffling their own entrails, what was left of their humanity. Korrilla is nursing a shattered ankle whilst picking over intruding corpses, leaning on a staff.

"What even bloody happened?" She snaps, and the Archivist is typically wheedling and unhelpful in response. Haarlep ignores them and steps through a dead devil, gore squelching between their toes. There's blood under their nails, a purple bruise at the corner of their mouth, but otherwise they’re unharmed—though only for now.

The House's defences are all down, including the golden veil of the boudoir, and through the archway, Haarlep can see the ever-burning skies of Avernus beyond, and they can see a tumbling shape silhouetted against a sun that never quite sets. 

"It doesn't matter," Haarlep says, when the bickering behind them becomes incessant. Korrilla and the Archivist fall quiet. The shape is harm coming home to roost, to take its temper out on the broken bricks of the House, to lay blame in the throats of anyone foolish enough to stay. "What always happens? He overplayed his hand, and retribution came for hope."

"Ah," the Archivist says.

Haarlep spares him a glance out the corner of their eye. The Archivist is wringing his hands, rooted to the spot with indecision. "I know you like to be broken by our master, but unless you know a good necromancer, I would recommend leaving." The shape grows larger. The shape wishes it could blot out the sky. The shape wishes it was layers and layers deep in the Hells, walking over corpses of archdevils and fathers and choking the life out of Asmodeus himself. "He won't be in the mood to play. Not with you."

"Ah, fuck." Korrilla groans. It contorts into something like a hiss of pain towards the end. Sweat drips down her forehead. She sounds dubious: "But you—you're staying? Half thought you'd take the chance of him being too gone to know you're gone."

"You understand mortal folly very well, Korrilla." Haarlep steps over a dismembered arm, burning coal eyes trained on the sky, ears pricking for the sound of huge wings, the roar of flame. They don’t talk to others in the House often. They hear about all of them through Raphael, through his memories, through his secrets. It doesn’t go both ways. She doesn’t hear about Haarlep from their shared master. "You don't understand this."

"Bugger it," she says. "I don't think I want to. I don't want to see it, either."

They don’t turn their head to watch her dragging the Archivist away. The portal is open; they can go to the material plane for a while, come back when the House is safe again. Haarlep leaves bloody, sticky footprints on the stone floors, padding towards the balcony, watching as the shape becomes a monster—their monster—and swoops down.

Raphael all but crash-lands with an unearthly scream, huge wings folding around him. His triplicate skull, fused together, uneven, crowned with bones, lifts, eyes burning, maw open wide, steam rolling off his tongues. He looks at Haarlep. He snarls. His tail whips across the floor, cracking a bedpost, sending a chair spinning and toppling. To ascend is a terrible thing, Haarlep knows; there is madness and violence and all of Raphael's preferred calculation and games are gone.

This is the price of his heritage. Seen as little more than a cambion but containing Mephistopheles' penchant for cruelty and experimentation made manifest. He's on all fours, claws skittering and scraping on stone, and enraged enough to be genuinely dangerous, uneven eyes burned and focused on the only other creature in the room. Haarlep can count on one hand the number of times that they've seen Raphael prompted to transform; deep-seated betrayals, usually. He has serving cambions, he has warlocks, he has spirits, but sometimes the only remedy for an attack is returning the show of force.

Haarlep doesn't know how that worked out for him. There's no way of asking this heaving, panting, burning monstrosity anyway; this sculpture of bones and thorns and flame. They can ask later when Raphael has lips that can form the required vowels and consonants. They walk closer, careful, one foot in front of the other.

The thing that is Raphael lunges. Haarlep's hands fly out to grab his antlers, hold him at arm’s length, but too late; a pair of tusks on the middle face gore into Haarlep's belly, through their clothes. They hiss angrily, hands bracing and shoving him back. There's a sucking noise when the tusks pull out of his body, and the wounds leak dark red, weeping rivers. Haarlep pulls hard, yanking Raphael's head up to eye level, and Raphael makes a chittering sound of recognition. 

"Bad dog," Haarlep snarls, teeth gritted. The wounds would kill a mortal, but they've been hurt worse with far more intentionality than this, before; they have done worse to Raphael. But the pain is useful. "Typical of you to recognise me too late, mm?”

The Raphael-beast whines, a sound somewhere between an actual dog and something screeching, alien and mechanical. He tries to shake his huge head out of Haarlep's grip, eyes flickering down to the twin wounds on Haarlep's abdomen. He wants away. Haarlep does not relent their grasp. Raphael will look at them. He will see what he's done. Doing an injury to Haarlep will not be a source of guilt—they won’t let it be. Instead, he will know his own lack of control, and be ashamed of what an animal he is.

“Look at what at a beast you are,” Haarlep hums, dropping one hand from Raphael’s horns to lift their silk shirt. The wounds are dark and gaping, and Raphael clicks deeply in the back of his malformed skulls. His jaws open, head lowering, and Haarlep lets him, curious what he’ll do. After a moment, a long dark tongue snakes out between teeth, lapping up blood from their stomach, and Haarlep breathes a curse.

After another moment, Raphael’s tongue presses into one of the wounds, and Haarlep gasps, grip tightening on Raphael’s antlers. Pain and pleasure of a kind make their knees tremble. Raphael growls, a somehow penitent sound, and lathes his tongue over and into the other wound. Haarlep groans. Their nerves spark up—correctly for Haarlep, but perhaps wrong for others, who would be devastated that something like this could pool heat between their legs.

Haarlep only pushes Raphael away when the distraction is nearly too great. The beast’s focus is entirely, pleasurably, on them now, and Haarlep knows they have the upper hand. They can push and do manipulate him into place, from all fours into a kneeling position, this version of Raphael still so much larger than him. Such a strange, beautiful, elongated shape. His claws reach for Haarlep and Haarlep whistles, sharply, slaps them away.

“Wait,” they order, voice raised and pointed. “Careful, Raphael. If you’re going to act like an animal, I’ll treat you like one.” Raphael snarls, the sound rolling three times over, echoing from every mouth, but his hands retreat.

“Good.” But not good boy. He hasn’t earned that. “Down.” They push him onto his back. His wings flatten out beneath him, and he sprawls wide on the stone; a dog showing his belly to his rightful master. What a dangerous, dangerous creature he is, and Haarlep has the immeasurable satisfaction of being able to put him on a leash and bring him to heel without so much as getting an actual collar out.

Haarlep stamps a foot down on one of Raphael’s thighs, pinning it to the side, standing between his legs. Bone bites into the bare sole of their foot. Heat scrapes between the bones, licks at sensitive skin. They suppress a wince, pressing their lips into a firm line, but push down harder, ignoring the way the fire is too hot even for them. Raphael growls up at them, but his chest burning chest is heaving, anticipatory.

Between Raphael’s thighs, here’s a slit in the bony carapace. It’s not perceptible most of the time—though hard to say who is looking intently between Raphael’s thighs, when he’s like this. They’re liable to be more concerned about all his claws, all his teeth. Haarlep’s head tilts, examining. They tut, disappointed, and their foot moves to the top inside of Raphael’s thigh, keeping it pinned open and presenting a new threat: that they could step on him in a particularly vulnerable place, if Raphael doesn’t behave himself. “How are you going to fuck me if you’re not even hard? All your greed and nothing to show for it.”

Raphael whines again, a keener sound than before. When he does, the fire in him burns brighter, hotter. It puts an answering ache between Haarlep’s thighs, a warmth of their own. They like him like this, whether human or cambion or monstrosity: Raphael begging that he can do better, even without words. Haarlep pulls their shirt off entirely, dropping it to the side, and they dip fingers into one of their still bleeding wounds with a low hiss. They bring their fingers to their mouth. Raphael’s many eyes track every movement. Predator-like, he goes uncannily still to watch Haarlep’s tongue curl over their fingers, lapping up their own blood. There is still a thin, threading whine in the pit of his chest.

“I suppose,” Haarlep exhales, “I’ll simply have to take care of myself. And we’ll see when you catch up.” They remove their foot from Raphael’s thigh to undo their trousers; a soft, fitting velvet fabric. They tug them down their hips. The fabric sticks, dark with blood, and then peels away. No underwear underneath. Removing the trousers leaves them splattered in their own blood, cock half-hard between their thighs.

Raphael lurches impatiently, threatening to sit up, and Haarlep puts their foot directly between Raphael’s thighs, against his slit. Raphael’s intake of breath is sharp, jaws opening wide—all drooling teeth and enormous tongues on show. Not too much pressure today, beneath Haarlep’s foot. Just enough to keep him in place. They can feel a pleasant, growing weight beneath. They put an iota more weight on their foot, and Raphael groans, frustrated.

Haarlep purrs, pleased. “I told you to wait.” They run a hand down their body, through their weeping blood, between their legs to wrap their fingers around their cock and work it up. Looking at Raphael helps. All that coiled, bestial need, all destruction set aside to look at Haarlep. So much wanting, looking at a perfect version of himself. They shiver visibly, moan softly, hips canting into their hand; it’s genuine, sure, but what in Haarlep’s actions isn’t designed to drive Raphael mad, too?

They move their foot again, just a little, leaving the pressure beside Raphael’s slit and parting their thighs in the same action. They don’t want to get in the way of seeing what Raphael has for them, and they need the room to spit into their fingers and put it between their thighs, bending forward so they can reach and rub their fingers against their hole.

They exhale, “Do you want me?” and push their fingertips inside themselves with a short gasp. It doesn’t matter if the image is ungainly, the angle unpleasant. It’s only for Raphael. It’s a promise of what he can have if he’s good. Their voice lowers, becomes something private, something for the two of them, that Raphael will strain to hear. “Show me you want me and you can breed me.”

They work themselves open slowly, agonisingly, a wet mix of blood and spittle to slick the way. Two fingers, then three. Raphael wraps a huge, clawed hand around Haarlep’s ankle and in the moment, in some quiet recognition of their master finding control in the depths of this entire loss of it, they let him do it. No matter that his palm is hotter than Haarlep can rightly stand, that the barest touch of his claws opens their skin.

All secondary when the slit in his carapace is pressed open, revealing the entirely promising length of his cock pushing out: a twisted, textured thing, dark and fleshy and slick, weeping a black fluid where it rests against his belly. He’s big, far bigger proportionally than when he’s human or cambion—and Haarlep is admittedly greedy for this rare thing, for a sight that looks like a challenge.

They kick his claws away from their ankle. They step either side of his hips. “Good boy,” they croon, and when he chitter-groans in response, they kneel. They take his heavy cock in hand and their fingers slip on the strange wetness of the thing, and they’re staggered by the heat of him, and Raphael bucks to be touched. “Stay,” they command, voice firm, but they’re unable to keep themselves from whimpering, as he fills them, as they settle down onto him. Hells, it’s glorious.

And—it’s not that it doesn’t hurt, to take him, touch him; to sling their thighs either side of his thorn-like carapace, to have bone spears press bruises into their skin, to have flames lick up between dark bones so fiercely that they cut through any of Haarlep’s tolerance. It is simply that the searing, scorching pain is worth it, to be so full and then to take Raphael’s crownlike antlers into their hands; to put a monstrous, warlike, conquering devil in his place.

Burns smooth over into shiny new skin. Bruises turn yellow and fade away. Wounds close. Even the threat, promise, of being gored is an insignificant risk: Raphael will never kill them, not even like this, a half-mindless thing caught between rage and wanting. He could not do without his mirror, and even in the dusky early days before their long twilight together settled in, Haarlep was never afraid of him.

Agony is a sweet thing, paired with all the pleasure. And it is agonising. The flood of it all is near-exhausting, and worsens when Raphael grasps their thighs, their hips, rending their skin open with claws and letting blood bubble under the heat of his palms. Haarlep’s grip on Raphael’s antlers becomes a focal point, looking down into his too-many eyes.

“Good boy,” they repeat, airless, and when they move, the in-out slide of Raphael inside them is nearly unbearable when Raphael’s claws sink into their skin further. They can, have taken and indulged in worse pain than this, and Haarlep isn’t shy about how welcome a sight blood is, as it dribbles from their body onto the flaming parts of Raphael and sizzles into nothing instantly. “Yes”—they find a rhythm—“oh, finally, when have you—ah—ever felt this good inside me before?”

The slick heat of him plays tricks on the mind. Raphael never lasts long, no matter his shape, but the inherent natural wetness to his cock like this gives a feeling like he can’t help but fill Haarlep. Can’t help but make endless mess, mark them from the inside. It is, after all, such a rare thing for Haarlep to let him. It isn’t usually worth the effort of getting themselves open for him.

He may not be able to talk, but he’s not silent, either. His whole body speaks with desire, the way he claws and grasps at Haarlep, and there is no shortage of animal sound—clicking, chittering, snarling, screaming. He answers Haarlep’s questions with groans. He answers them with rolling his hips up, not content to be still and ridden, needing to try and take, a rutting that is not formless but clearly purposeful, trying to get as deep as he can and stay as deep as he can and resenting the way that Haarlep rides him.

They laugh, light-headed, aroused and woozy. They’ve barely thought of touching themselves all this time, but they do now, releasing one hand on Raphael’s antlers to wrap around their cock and pump themselves in something like an accompanying rhythm. “Do you wish you were on top of me? How rare.”

Raphael snaps furiously, jaws closing an inch from Haarlep’s face.

“You wish you could hold me down and breed me properly, don’t you?” So hard to speak, wrapped up in Raphael’s heat, inside out. “For once you need to take instead of—fuck!—taking.” They work their hand over themselves a little faster. “Well—if you come before I do, you’ll never hear the end of it. Put,” they grunt, startled mid-speech by a vicious rock of Raphael’s hips, “that knot in me before I say you can, and I’ll make sure that the next week, the next month of your life is an endless stream of begging for me, and you won’t come once.”

The click-screech is panicked. “If you want to fill me up,” Haarlep growls, “then you’ll make me come first. You will last, Raphael, or I will treat you like the bitch you want me to be. You’ll be”—fuck, fuck, it’s harder to focus, the more they talk, the more they touch themselves, thumb sliding over the slick head of their cock, the more they rock back onto Raphael and have him drag against their prostate every time—“mine, ah, to use—”

To his credit, they can feel Raphael’s thighs tremble under them. That’s a trait he has no matter how he looks: it’s the effort of holding on, of following Haarlep’s instructions. It burns a thrill right down their spine. How good he tries to be for them. How desperately he needs this. Hard to tell, really, how much of them is lightheaded with arousal and how much is lightheaded with blood loss. It doesn’t seem to matter, overmuch.

They do use him, gladly, desperately, seeking the edge so they can tumble over it—but it’s the slip of one of Raphael’s claws into one their gore-wounds that does it, Raphael inside them and inside them, the furnace and sharp edges of his body finally what breaks Haarlep. They cry out, shuddering, come spilling over their fingers and onto Raphael’s body, and they push down, so that Raphael is flush and home and can feel the ways that Haarlep’s orgasm wrecks them.

In the haze of their pleasure, a plaintive whimper beneath them.

Only half-heartedly irritable: “You can’t even wait for me to be done?” Exhaling, catching their breath: “Go on, then, puppy. Fill me up.”

Raphael growls, some looping pattern in the sound like a laugh, a desperate but happy noise, to be given permission. He’s drooling, ridiculously, and Haarlep barely has time to consider that they should have put Raphael’s tongues to better use before the devil’s grip on them tightens agonisingly and he ruts his hips hard and fast, never really pulling out, slamming his hips up against Haarlep painfully—

Until he stops, with a wounded animal noise, buried deep as his orgasm takes him. His huge head thunks back against the floor and Haarlep groans, gasps, as he really fills Haarlep. His hips shift, twitchy movements designed to drive all that come inside Haarlep and keep it there, and before they can say anything clever, before they can praise him, Haarlep drops their head forward with another gasp. Fuck, they’re never ready for the swell and tight press of the knot.

“Oh,” they exhale, “Good boy, there, that’s”—their breath is short, as they laugh, trying to reconcile all of Raphael’s usual bullshit with how good it feels to be taken, to let this monstrous form of him cut and fuck and breed them—“so good.”

They wriggle their hips, slightly, wince; they aren’t going anywhere. They’re sat firmly on Raphael’s cock. Really, they could free themselves, but—where is the fun in that? When Raphael’s many eyes are rolling back in his twisted skull, his hard grip turning listless and groping, keen to keep Haarlep close.

It hurts, to be held. Pleasure gives away to oversensitive, pain overtaking everything else. But—they can see the monster calmed, and know that he’ll be himself, before long.

They’ll indulge him for as long as it takes.

#my fic #baldur's gate 3 #haarlep #raphael bg3 #raphael x haarlep #nsft #SEEYA NO BETA IM DONE WRITING THIS

[film-in-my-soul]

Hi Alex!

Hangster + Soulmates for the Ficlet Bingo (if you feel like it), please? 🥰

Hope you're having a nice nice day! ☀️🌷

Claude

Here ya go Claude!

.⋆｡°✩ The time between getting shot down and reuniting with Maverick, Rooster isn't alone. ✩°｡⋆.

-ooster.

There's a ringing in Bradley's ear and a dull, thudding kind of pain all across his flank. Something cold and wet is landing on his face, but he can't make his eyes open.

Rooster, you answer me, damnit.

A voice in his head resonates like his own thoughts, rippling around the shrill buzz that might or might not be because his eardrums burst on missile impact. And oh. Oh fuck.

He just got himself shot out of the fucking sky.

Bradley, please.

And that voice. Bradley knows that voice. It's soft drawl, it's surprisingly light lit. He can say that the twist of fear is unfamiliar, though. He's used to grating, smug arrogance. Sometimes, he's used to piss-and-vinegar spitting. He can't say, even as he blinks slowly and painfully back into the moment, post-eject, that he's too cut up about the change in tone.

I swear to God, if you fucking got the spot just to get yourself blown to high hell, I'll-

Yeah, no, that's more like it.

"Shut up," Bradley hisses as he sits up, taking stock of himself, the smoldering remains of his jet some hundred feet away. He knows the thought doesn't reach the other man because the stream of angry chatter keeps up.

-so help me God. Fucking answer me, Bradshaw.

Bradley gets to his feet, wobbly but getting his bearings sorted out with each breath he manages to suck in behind aching ribs. He presses a hand to his temple where his helmet's been knocked off into the snow beside him and his tangled shoot. He presses against his skull, knowing that it doesn't actually make the connection stronger (it's proximity, touch, sometimes the meeting of eyes, nothing else). Still, he used to watch his parents do it, and it's a habit he'd picked up when he'd first felt the brush of another person in his brain, one he can't shake. No matter how much he's tired.

"Shut up, Hangman."

Blessedly, there's a moment of silence that follows; even the ringing peters out. Then, the other voice is back with a vengeance.

Are you insane?! What the hell were you thinking?!

Bradley winces, shaking his head as if that might make Jake quieter, and catches himself on a tree when the motion threatens to send him back to the ground.

"Not fucking helping."

Oh, I'm sorry, princess. You want a gold star for getting yourself blown up?

"I want you to be a little quieter, seeing as I did get myself blown up and all."

Jake goes silent again, and now that Bradley's not swimming to stay upright, something uncomfortable clenches in his gut at the absence, especially when it just makes the stillness of the forest intercut with the popping flames of his jet wreckage, all the more prominent.

Dumb question, but... are you okay?

Only the hesitant way the shared thought nudges him keeps Bradley from bristling. That and the sweep of relief making breathing a little easier.

"Aside from being behind enemy lines without a plane or a plan? I'm alive."

I'll take alive.

It's almost enough to make Bradley smile.

I'll tell command you're alive. We'll get rescue inbound and-

"Don't."

He doesn't need to tell Jake why, even as it makes an anxious prickle raise the hair on the back of his neck. Just because he got himself stranded doesn't change the fact that the Navy can't know they're soulmates. They'd both be grounded. At least this way... even if it gets him captured or killed, Jake's still got his wings.

"Maverick's alive. We'll figure something out."

Bradshaw-

"You're time to sit on the perch, Jake."

That shuts the other pilot up, at least for a second. Bradley thinks it's got more to do with the soft way he'd thought it than the use of Jake's own words against him and the understanding that even if he might not like it, Bradley's right.

You get your ass in the air, and you get back here, Bradshaw.

He doesn't say it, but Bradley thinks he can hear it anyway, and as he starts bundling up his parachute, gritting his teeth against the heat of unshed tears in his eyes, he rolls the unspoken message around like an echo, pushing him forward with each softer repetition.

You come home.

Ficlet Bingo!

#hangster #sereshaw #hangster ficlet #top gun maverick ficlet #top gun maverick #ficlet bingo

[halfway-happyyy]

i and love and you (jake seresin)

AN: the one where jake seresin shatters his girl’s heart. based on this ask.

read part two here

warnings - adultery, mentions of infertility, rough language.

“Three words that became hard to say- I and love and you.” - the avett brothers

“You feel a million miles away from me.”

You are nose-to-nose with Jake Seresin between silk bedsheets, there is no telling where he begins, or you end. His warmth radiates into you; feels like pouring warm sunshine through a stained-glass window.

“On the contrary, m'dear. I couldn't be closer to you if I tried.”

His sleepy Texan drawl sends a pleasant shiver down your spine, and the recent memory of his fingertips on your skin as they left trails of molten fire in their wake causes your cheeks to flame. Still- the deep creases next to his eyes speak novels even if he won't. You know your pilot better than anyone on Earth, and the oppressive weight of whatever he isn’t telling you feels like it may just crush you if you’re not careful.

“Something’s wrong.” You muse.

He tries to shake it off. Forgets that to most people he may seem like an elusive mystery, but to you- well. You know him better than you know yourself most days.

“I made a mistake.”

It falls from his lips in a hushed whisper; and the most shocking thing is not the mistake itself, but his readiness to admit to it.

So unlike Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin…

His statement hangs suspended in the humid air before you; the nonchalance of it makes it feel like he's about to follow it up with- and you'll laugh when you hear what it is because it's just the funniest thing!

Except that he doesn't smile after he says it and something in the way his viridian orbs glitter darkly in the caliginous morning light tells you that you're in for a double dose of heartache.

“What mistake did you make, Lieutenant?” Your voice is light- a beacon to ward off the looming darkness.

He swallows hard like he's trying to swallow back the painful lump in the hollow of his throat, and the urge to brush a fingertip over the swell of his Adam’s apple is overwhelming.

“I… slept with someone while I was stationed away.”

It knocks the breath from your chest, and you recoil from the suddenly stifling warmth of his body next to you. You search his gaze for any sign of jest and when you find none, a hysterical laugh exits your mouth in rapid bursts of air.

“This is a cruel joke even for you, Seresin.”

He shakes his head once. “There is something else.”

And you think- what could possibly be worse than finding out your partner of five years did the one thing he swore to you that he’d never do?

“She’s pregnant.”

The sound you make after that admission is wholly unfamiliar to you. It’s akin to a bird with a broken wing; something fragile and helpless and hurt beyond all recognition. And it makes you seethe because you’ve spent so much of your life trying not to feel that way and it’s Jake-fucking-Seresin who’s done it to you this time.

“I am so sorry to have to tell you both this, but the results from your most recent test have shown that there is a thin film of cartilage covering the cervix that makes it nearly impossible to conceive children naturally.”

You cleared your throat and blinked back the tears that had begun to pool in the depths of your eyes.

“What about surgery?” Jake asked, his voice breathless with unbridled hope.

Your doctor took a deep breath and pressed his hands together atop the oak tabletop. “Operation could decrease your chances of conception even further.”

Jake squeezed your hand thrice under the table like a vice grip- as if his strength could lend itself to your irreparable reproductive organs and the next day a baby would be found there. You had been to fertility clinics all over California and each one had told you a grotesque replication of the same thing; you could not provide Jake Seresin with the one thing he really, truly wanted. The anguish in that notion was all-consuming. Like a blaze out of control threatening to destroy everything in its path.

“There are other options…”

What had initially drawn you to the decorated naval pilot before you had been his unyielding devotion to anything he took a shine too. An idea could bloom in his mind like a wild flower- and if there was even a remote possibility that it could be successful, he jumped at the chance.

“Why?” It’s the only word you trust yourself around at the moment.

“It was an accident…” His voice is a wineglass teetering precariously on the edge of a table. A mere moment away from absolute ruin.

It didn���t mean anything. I don’t know what I was thinking. I wish I could take it back.

Turning onto your back, you gaze up at the ceiling before you; will the tears not to fall because that’s the last thing you want to give him. He reaches a tan arm out to touch you, and bile rises in your throat. “Don’t you dare.”

“I need you to look at me, kid.”

And you physically can’t bring yourself to do it; that you are even still next to him is a testament to your sheer willpower. “You have one chance to tell me the truth, Jake. All of it.”

He exhales sharply, his warm breath fans out over your shoulder and does nothing for the waves of nausea swirling in your belly. The urge to cut and run grows tenfold with each passing second. “There’s been a growing divide between us. It’s like there’s this chasm of space that gets deeper with each doctor’s appointment…” He clears his throat. “We don't touch each other anymore, kid. We don’t make love, we don’t fuck, it’s like we got this collective bad news together and we both forgot how to function properly as lovers.”

“So your solution to all of that was to go and fuck someone else instead of coming to me first?” Your tone is equal parts venomous and incredulous; if the last five years had proven anything to you, it was that perhaps you didn’t know him the way you thought you did at all. “You are an impressively smart man so you’ll excuse me if I find it hard to believe that you figured that was the best course of action.”

“I’m sorry.”

Your gaze travels to his. And in the low light you notice the subtle flecks of gold in his eyes among a sea of green. It isn’t lost on you that an hour ago, you would have been happy to lose yourself in those orbs for an eternity. After a long day, they were home. An hour ago, he had been the one constant in a world of constantly changing things. You’d give anything to get back to it.

“Me too.” You murmur.

He doesn’t try to stop you as you leave the bed, and you’re grateful for it. Leaning against the paint-chipped doorframe, you cross your arms over your chest. “I’m going out for a couple of hours. I’d like you to be gone when I get back.”

He swallows hard, nods his head. “Right. Sure. Um, and then later on this evening we can talk more about it all…”

“Let me make this clear to you, Jake. I want you gone. Everything. We’re finished.”

He tries to say something but the right words fail him and he drops his head into his hands and starts to cry.

Sliding down the back of the closed washroom door, you hug your knees up tight to your chest while heaving sobs wrack your body. Your tears come from a place of white-hot anger; it’s a fury one doesn’t realize they possess until they’re thrust into a unique situation, and the fire from it feels as though it’ll consume you whole if you let it.

“I’m going to marry you someday.”

Stood before you on the beach, his tan skin was a stark contrast against his starched navy whites and you were hard-pressed to believe he'd ever looked more handsome. For once his tone lacked its trademark cockiness, and in its place there was a steadfast determination to the statement that made believing it as easy as breathing.

“You sound very sure of that, Seresin.”

He brushed a stray piece of hair from your vision and smiled at you, and it struck you then how strange it was that you never wanted to know what it would be like to live without him in your life. This deliberate, cocky, extraordinary hurricane of a human being. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. We’re going to get hitched, fill a home with babies, watch them grow, watch each other grow… I can’t wait.”

“It’s not going to be easy.” You murmured.

He took your hand in his, brought it to his lips and kissed each of your knuckles individually. “Nothing worthwhile ever is, kid.”

He’s waiting for on your front porch when you get home hours later, his head hung shamefully low. The warm, orange light from the setting California sun basks him in an Adonis-like glow and it kills you that this is how it’s all ending.

“This is my punishment isn’t it?” You whisper, finally.

Jake recoils as if he’s been burnt by an invisible flame. “What?”

“I couldn’t give you the one thing you wanted more than anything on Earth and instead of talking to me about it like any other sane person, you betrayed me, Jake.”

And even as he nods in understanding, he could never truly fathom the depths of that betrayal- how could he?

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.” His eyes are bloodshot and probably match your own.

“I need you to leave.”

Sighing, he stands from his spot on the top step and turns to you. He is a shadow of the man from the beach; an entire ghost of the boisterous pilot you initially fell head over heels for. He reaches a hand up as if to touch you; falters, and lets it drop to his side. Words hang in the air between you that will be left unspoken for an eternity. He turns to leave and you're sure you feel your heart crack under the weight of it all.

“Jake?” You murmur when he gets to the bottom of your yard.

He turns around slowly; that same glimmer of hope from the doctor’s office shines brightly in the depths of his green eyes and it causes a fresh wave of despair to wash over you.

“Yeah, kid?”

You force a smile; can feel overwhelming emotion thick at the back of your throat again.

Just a couple more minutes and then you can fall apart the way you need to, in order to put yourself back together again.

“I just wanted you to know that despite the rough parts, I loved every part of you with every fiber of my being. And that you cheated us both out of what could have been a wonderful life.”

You don’t wait for the words to follow as you disappear behind the privacy of your closed door. He stands at your front gate for a couple more minutes, his expression anguished. He had told you once that your capacity to love was one of your most beautiful traits, and that you needed to handle it with care.

And as you watch his car peel away from the curb and disappear at the end of your street, you only wish he had done the same for himself.

#big feels #jake seresin #jake 'hangman' seresin #jake seresin x reader #hangman seresin x reader #jake 'hangman' seresin x reader #jake seresin imagines #jake seresin fanfic #angst #writing #jake seresin angst #top gun: maverick #glen powell #i and love and you

[wikitpowers]

kit and his golden wings be like????

the POWER he holds that we're not even yet aware of is making me go insane

like imagine this dude flying with his huge wings or bursting into flames and just being unfazed bc he's a fucking badass like-

this image is not leaving my brain

#dude imagine????? #i think i would pass out #the fact he will most likely have wings like these is making me FERAL #i will never be the same after he whips them out in twp #god i can't wait any longer #kit herondale #the wicked powers #twp #tsc

[max1461]

I don’t know what army drill sergeants are like, but I have been through marine boot camp and I’ll tell you some drill instructor stories/facts if you wanna hear.

At the beginning of recruit training, you meet your drill instructors. They recite something called the drill instructor creed to you. You can google it, but one thing that really stuck out is that they say “thoroughly indoctrinated,” they actually use those words. Like they come out in front of you all and say they’ll indoctrinate you.

The stated purpose of the screaming and insults is to get you used to stress. They talk to everybody as if they’re gonna go infantry. Like, I’m just a pencil pusher in the air wing, but they will talk to everybody as if we’re all going to be in trenches someday with mortar rounds pouring down on us. “If you can’t handle drill instructor sergeant so-and-so screaming at you, you’re not going to be able to handle an actual battle”

I don’t think any of my drill instructors had combat MOS’s, but they would still talk it up like combat is a fact for every military member. I remember our senior saying something like “if you think boot camp is bad, maybe you should watch your best friend fucking burst into flames in front of you. Puts things into perspective.”

As another, specific example of this. Our drill instructor was once counting us down, and somebody at the last second ran to the bathroom to grab something they forgot (I don’t remember what). DI says “BITCH WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU GOING” and he says “SIR THIS RECRUIT FORGOT HIS BLAH BLAH BLAH” and our DI stopped screaming and just says “so, if an enemy plane was flying overhead, and you moved, and gave away your position, and got the motherfucker next to you killed, and he doesn’t get to go to home to his family… would you be able to take that back?”

The screaming is two-way. This is generally not accurately portrayed in movies, most likely because it would be profoundly unpleasant to listen to. The most you’ll see in movies is them saying something like “I can’t hear you maggot,” but they are actually demanding top volume screaming every time. Every single thing you say you have to scream as loud as you can, and they’ll scream at you while you do it. Everyone loses their voice in the first couple weeks

There are a lot of drill instructors who have perpetually raspy voices as a result of the screaming. At that point you never hear them scream, just whisper in a raspy voice. If you as a marine want to imitate a drill instructor, you just do a raspy voice and say something like “that’s crazy, recruit” and everyone will get what you’re doing

What you were calling “smoking” is technically called “ITing,” IT is short for Incentive Training. It is officially forbidden to IT an actual Marine, it’s considered hazing. You can only do it to recruits in boot camp. Our senior told us that it’s a punishment, but it will also make you stronger. ITing as a punishment often happens in groups, and/or you’ll often be overtly punished for someone else’s actions.

Doing things properly under stress is really emphasized in boot camp. Like, there is a proper way to address everyone, to hold things, to walk, to do ANYTHING, and if you fuck it up they immediately start screaming. For example, you have to refer to every single person by their full billet title and rank, like you can’t just say “Sgt XYZ” he’s “Drill Instructor Sgt XYZ.” Some titles get really long, because they’ll specify more stuff, like, try remembering under stress “lead series chief drill instructor gunnery sergeant so-and-so.” When you talk directly to people though, it’s just sir or ma’am. You have to say the proper greeting, and you have to request permission to speak before saying what you wanna say. You cannot say first person pronouns, you refer to yourself as “this recruit,” refer to everyone in a group as “these recruits,” and use third person pronouns for any following mentions. “Sir this recruit was filling his canteen sir,” for example. Here is an example of an ideal interaction which goes well, you’re a recruit who wants to go to the bathroom:

>“good morning sir, recruit max1461 requests permission to speak to senior drill instructor staff sergeant triviallytrue sir”

>“what bitch?”

>“sir, recruit max1461 requests permission to make a head call sir”

>“run.”

>“aye sir, received sir, good morning sir”

Now of course, you’re screaming at the top your lungs, your drill instructor is screaming at the top of their lungs, and they will start blasting the fuck out of you if any part of this ideal interaction breaks down. Suppose you don’t scream loud enough, suppose you forget to ask permission to speak, suppose you forget the proper greeting, suppose you say a proper greeting at the wrong time of day, like “good morning” when it’s the afternoon, suppose you say “I” or “me,” suppose you fuck up the billet or the rank or the name, suppose you say “yes sir” instead of “aye sir,” suppose you say “bathroom” or “toilet” or any other normal word besides “head,” suppose you add an extraneous word like “emergency head call” or “desperate head call,” suppose you say “thank you” or nothing instead of “received,” or forget the second proper greeting and just run off, all of these offenses could and would warrant a blasting from your drill instructor, and might lead you to a situation where they tell you to run, only to immediately scream “get baaaack” before telling you to run again

There’s a great book called Making The Corps where a Marine interviewed everyone he went to boot camp with including old DI’s and officers and he organized it all into a chronological narrative book. Highly recommend if this subject interests you. The movie Full Metal Jacket is very accurate portrayal of 60s boot camp (R. Lee Ermey was a real drill instructor), but boot camp got massively overhauled back in the 80s so even when the movie came out it was more a portrait of the past. Notice they’re all called “privates” instead of recruits,” and they don’t refer to themselves in the third person. Some of the obstacle courses you see aren’t used as frequently anymore, and they never go through Basic Warrior Training or the Crucible

Drill instructor school is a repeat of boot camp, except everyone takes turns being drill instructors. I saw a bit of it. They were all standing in a formation like recruits, and there was like, a chain of two drill instructors. One is screaming at the guys in formation, the other was screaming at the guy screaming at the guys in formation. “FUCKING CORRECT HIM! BLAST THEM! SCREEEAAAAM!”

I like that triviallytrue is the drill sergeant

#thank you anon this is fascinating! #anon #future reference

[fizzigigsimmer]

Dragon!Shifter AU

I wrote a little in the tags on the OG post but I am still thinking about this so...

The way Billy arrived at the academy, swooping over the castle and roaring loud enough to shake the walls before he flew up towards the Grandmaster’s tower and disappeared into the clouds, there’s no way for anyone not to know who he is and what he is.

Steve’s very used to the way the student body can latch onto a person and OBSESS. You’d think, with their powers and their lineages that the students wouldn’t be effected by things like fan mania, but no, they’re just as impressed by pretty faces and showboating as ordinary humans are. Steve can’t go anywhere without his classmates stuffing the poems and ballads they’ve composed - praising his pale elfin good looks and comparing him to snowdrops, stars, and moonlight - under his pillow or in his satchel when he isn’t looking. And at least once a week someone actually gets up the courage to stand in the courtyard and sing. He’s been crowned King of Midsummer every year that he’s been old enough to attend the end of term festival reserved for the higher level students.

But from the minute Billy Hargrove saunters out of the Grandmaster’s quarters he’s all anyone can talk about. It’s so fucking annoying. His golden skin and sun streaked hair, his glittering blue eyes and the flames that (apparently) dance in them when he’s wielding magic (Steve wouldn’t know because he can’t stand the prick and the less time spent in his company the better) and the inked markings that decorate his back and shoulders that glow gold just before he shifts his shape.

Steve knows Billy’s markings intimately because he sees them three times a week during Champions practice, usually right after Hargrove strips naked and dives from the banks of Emerald Lake, changing shape in a burst of golden magic just so he can knock Steve and the rest of his teammates off their feet with a ten foot wave. And Billy does that shit on purpose, because he doesn’t have to be big as a house when he shifts.

Billy has a demi form, effectively no bigger than a kitten. Steve can hold most of his bendy lizard like body in the palm of his hand while Billy’s long serpentine tail coils around his wrist, warm despite the cool scales that line his body. No one knew dragons could go small like this. Well, correction, Steve supposes it makes a lot of sense now why humans call so many lizards dragons. Wingless, one scaly lizard thing scuttling around looks like another, and it turns out Dragons have been coming to the human world far more often than people think.

Steve discovers that Billy can go small after Flight Studies one day, which he’s endlessly thankful is not one of the classes he has to share with Hargrove. While some elves have strong enough magic and a sturdy enough connection to the fae realm that they can achieve winged flight, Steve remains as grounded and talentless in this area as they come. It’s enough of a sore spot as it is because his dad and all of his cousins fly. The last thing he wants to put up with is Hargrove giving him shit about it.

Steve comes back from class still wingless, but sweaty from all that straining to connect with Gia, and immediately heads to the room he shares with Tommy in the Blue Hall to change before supper. He doesn’t expect to find anything but shirts and tunics in his drawer, so he nearly shrieks the house down when he opens it to find a big lizard thing coiled up in a nest of his shirts.

Patrick, one of the selkies who shares the room next door, comes running in to see what the commotion is about just as the scaly creature raises its long neck, blue green scales glinting in the late afternoon sunlight and yellow eyes fixed on Steve as it opens its mouth and hisses. It has a small row of very sharp looking teeth and a very pink tongue.

Steve slams the drawer shut.

“Whoa! What was that?!“ Patrick demands, drawing closer, only to scurry back along with Steve as the drawer with the creature inside rattles violently.

“I have no idea. Probably another one of Munson’s freaky little pets.” Steve seethes, speaking of the boy from Black Hall who is infamous for his love of dark magical creatures, the more dangerous the better. The drawer rattles hard before suddenly popping open, and one very pissed lizard crawls its way out onto the top of the dresser. it twists its upper body until its head faces the two gaping boys. For a moment Steve admires the elegance of its long body and the dramatic spiny fins that raise from its back as it elongates itself, thinking that the strangely human expression of absolute grump that it wears on a decidedly lizard like face is unexpectedly funny... and then the creature opens its mouth and Steve and Patrick bolt with a yelp, scrambling for the door as a stream of electric blue flame erupts from the creature’s mouth.

The House Head thinks they are pulling a prank when they bring him back to deal with the beast, only to find the room completely creature free and no sign of anything burning. But Steve knows what he saw, and Patrick isn’t known for being a prankster so the Head promises to go over to Black Hall and have a talk with Munson. He advises the boys to keep their windows shut going forward, so nothing has an opportunity to crawl in.

It doesn’t work, because Steve doesn’t know it but the creature was actually a dragon shifter who also happens to live in Blue Hall, just one floor below. Steve doesn’t notice either that first time that one of his shirts is missing.

Long before Billy was ready to admit he liked Steve as a person, he liked the smell of his soap and his magic. Dragons are creatures of indulgence, so the things they like they take to horde. Steve never gets that shirt back or any of the other things Billy ends up claiming from Steve’s room. Not until Steve starts sleeping in his bed. But anything he brings back with him from Billy’s room, Billy just replaces with something else.

It’s expensive dating a dragon, is what he’s saying. The only solution is to cohabbitate.

 The First Part

#harringrove #billy x steve #Billy Hargrove #Steve Harrington #elf!steve #dragon!billy #the difference between elves and fairys is tolkien and santa clause so for this I'm keeping the two blended #poor wingless little elf #poor smol dragon being woken from his nap like that

[hyperfixat]

food for Gabriel Fans! funny little thing that i can’t think what else to add atm…

Alt Gabriel saves you from silly alternate!

“Shit, wrong house.” The alternate now takes up pacing in a nervous fashion across your room, hands wringing at the shadow on top of its head. “Master will be so…” a whimper.

The room’s temperature drops, and the hairs on the back of your neck stand tall as in the center of your bedroom a figure is slowly flickering into existence.

He — it? — is completely monotone, from the disturbingly long fingers that curl into claws, to the clothes on his tall, tall frame.

The pitch humanoid backs into the corner with you, and you’re half certain it’s about to use you as a human shield for whatever is manifesting itself in your room. It’s presence is cold next to yours and you freeze as ghostly arms wrap around your fetal form.

A frenzied mixture of voices flee the alternate, making your ears ring.

Kids shouting in joy, a woman’s scream, a deep, rumbling voice underlying it all.

You cannot move, absolutely paralyzed from fear and the alternate tucks itself into you, the same one who told you to kill yourself less than five minutes ago.

The man, being, deity, whatever he is, takes full form. With an experimental roll of his shoulders, he grins.

His face is horrid, long and ghastly, eyes and mouth stretched too long to fit properly. His teeth, large sharp daggers, reminiscent of a shark’s gleam in the dim lighting. His eyes, black and a glowing white, seem to bore into you, taking in every little bit of you.

The alternate’s mangle of noise cuts off abruptly as the tall thing approaches the two of you. He crouches, a large hand coming to wrap around the head of the alternate. His grin never leaves as he tugs them away from you.

The alternate dangles in his hand uselessly, and the large one’s attention focuses on the alternate.

An ear ache inducing static hum fills the room and under the loud white noise you can tell words are being said. However they’re much too low and quick for you to pick up on.

You turn your face away and pray to whatever deity will answer for guidance out of this situation.

“So, terribly sorry about that, little dear.” The tall one is coming closer. You squeeze your eyes shut tight. He feels so close, you could touch him if you reached out an inch. “No need to be afraid, hmm? You’re safe now.”

“No, no, please leave.” It’s whispered and hardly spoken at all, but with the creepy man so close he can hear you.

“None of that, now. The good angel Gabriel has saved you. Can’t you please look at me?”

This is not an angel, you can feel it in every fiber of your being. This is a liar. You’d less afraid if a flaming ball of wings and eyes were in the room with you now, you’re certain.

They’re gray, white, and black, not a spec of any color on their skin or clothes. His eyes are large and the pupil stretches horridly to fill the spaces. His lips open in a smile that you think is trying to convey kindness.

You shiver.

“That’s right, little one. You’re safe with Gabriel…” His arms open, like he expects you to crawl into them from your spot in the corner.

A whine involuntarily escapes you as you realize that you’re caged in completely by something strong enough to banish an alternate.

Oh God, Oh Fuck. This thing killed the alternate. What the fuck. What.

Your breaths come in rapid bursts and Gabriel (apparently, if you are safe to assume he was talking in the third person…) frowns. His eyes (your stomach rolls) start to shrink. It’s gross, the process, but they turn into the size a human would have.

“Oh, I’m sorry for frightening you. I forget my form strikes fear in humans.” His slender hand reaches out to cup over your hair and rest at the base of your skull. “You need not be afraid, it’s alright, my dear. I’m not going to harm you. Quite the opposite in fact.

“One of my disciples made a terrible mistake tonight. I must make up for her wrongdoings, dear. I can’t have my image tainted by hurting someone not meant for harm. Come into my arms, I will care for you.”

You don’t have much choice, do you? Death is an option, always is, but he seems oddly apologetic, so maybe that plan can go on the back burner for now?

You close the small gap and press yourself awkwardly into his middle. A chuckle leaves him and his arms fall around you.

“Good job, little dear.”

Gabriel holds you tight for a long time.

“Would you like me to run you a bath, or maybe brew some tea? I’m sure this evening has been very stressful.”

And you let him, let his tender touches take you and ground you and shelter you. You let him talk and hold you until dawn, let his words of reassurance rest in your subconscious.

Gabriel is there when you stir from your slumber, seated on the recliner in your room. He’s flipping through one of the books you have lying around.

“Hm? Are you awake, dear?”

A part of you thinks this is a dream, another part of you hopes this is a dream, but you know you’re awake. Your knees and muscles ache from hiding through the night, and pain means reality.

You blink, a dumb, slow movement. Gabriel is real. Wowzers.

“Yes.” How should one act with the obviously insanely strong, not-angel, not-human, kind person(?) that talks to them with sweet, honey laced words and banished an alternate in front of them.

The previous hours spent with him are mush in your memory. You know it had been nice, caring in a way you crave.

It seems neither of you know what to say, so after a quiet minute, you proceed through your day as normal.

#alt gabriel #alt gabriel x reader #verified hyperfixat post #tmc x reader #tmc

[acourtofidiots]

Love of My Life (Don’t Take It Away from Me)

poly!dickkory x reader (dick grayson x koriand’r x reader)

1.1k words

warnings: angst angst angst baBYYYYY, titans s4 spoilers, heartbreak, sacrificing of oneself to save the day, but there’s a happy ending!

a/n: i was inspired by the s4 series finale of titans and the ending few scenes that I decided to flip it into my poly!dickkory verse. i’m still not ok that we won’t get more of them ever again. but that’s ok, i can still fantasize about them in my head :,)

title is from love of my life by Queen

minors dni // please don’t spam like my posts // i will block you

“No.”

Dick pauses, body hunched down next to Sebastian’s body. You shoot Kory a confused look. Your thoughts twist themselves together as anxiety starts to bubble to the surface.

“Kory, what do you mean?” A sad smile graces her face as she reaches up and cups your cheek, fingers tracing gently across your face before placing it on her heart.

“I’ve come to accept my fate. I can’t push it off any longer.” Tears bubble up in your eyes as you look at Dick. It was like he was frozen in time, body stiff and unmoving as he processed Kory’s words. “what if he comes back? Stronger?”

The last word snaps Dick out of his trance, and he steps toward the two of you. “no, Kory, you can’t. We’ll come back stronger, too,” he nods toward you, and you give him a half smile. “All three of us.”

Kory sighs as she pulls you to stand next to Dick, the vigilante automatically curling an arm around you. but you couldn’t focus on the gesture that generally would have you snuggling up to him and kissing his jaw, but tonight wasn’t one of those nights. your heart was pounding, a race against the anxiety bubbling in your veins. You couldn’t lose Kory, not everything that has happened.

“There’s a flame inside me. one that I can’t simply put out and restart it. I-I’m sorry but,” a voice crack interrupts her, and you can see how much her words affect her. “But it’s time...there’s always an end.”

You didn’t know how it was possible, but your heart broke even further seeing the pained expression on Dick’s face. “I don’t know how to do that. we,” he pauses and looks at you, “don’t know how to do that.”

Kory smiles sadly and places a hand on your lover’s cheek. “I know,” she whispers, and Dick leans into the gesture before sighing.

“I can’t.” You squeeze his hand gently.

“Neither can i,” you add, and Kory gives the both of you a sad smile.

“Me neither,” she agrees. “But let’s just wing it.”

Your little moment was interrupted by a resounding ‘NO’ behind you. Turning around, your eyes widen in horror as Sebastian gets up on shaky legs, fury rippling across his face.

“This is my story,” he snarls, and you automatically shield Dick and Kory behind you. “You don’t get to be the fucking heroes!”

You glance at Kory, who gives you a slight nod before her eyes turn green, and blue light emits from her body. Dick yanks you back as Kory darts forward, grasping Sebastian by the arm and shooting upward, blasting a hole through the laboratory’s roof. You shield yourself from falling debris before looking at the gaping hole your lover left.

“Kory!” You shout, and you sprint towards the exit. Your stomach churned at what could possibly happen to Kory. The person who always made you feel loved, protected, safe. The one who made you realize that it wasn’t just her that had half of your heart. But Nightwing as well.

You tripped through the numerous dead bodies littering the ground of S.T.A.R labs, not caring if you left the rest of the team behind. Kory, Kory, Kory.

bursting out of the front door, you watched as a bright light soared upwards, high into the atmosphere, and you could only wonder if Kory knew what she was doing.

“Y/n! Wait--” Rachel shouted before gasping at the sight of the blue light exploding into a supernova of colors.

it was too late.

Everything felt like you were drowning in a tub of molasses. Your body felt heavier and sluggish as you fell to your knees, glassy eyes unblinking at the spectacle in the sky. No, no, no-

Rachel pulls you into a tight hug as Tim, Gar, and Conner stay behind. You could hear Gars sniffles, knowing how close he and the Tameranean were. She was practically a mother to him, nurturing him and raising him to be a fine gentleman.

Time slows down as you let out a devastating scream. Rachel hugs you tighter as you sob into her arms. You could do nothing to get half of your heart that belonged to Kory. Your princess. Your chest started to rise and fall unsteadily, breaths running ragged as grief covered your body like a blanket. You refused to believe she was gone; it was just a figment of your imagination.

“Look!”

Tim raises his hand toward the sky, seeing an orange light fall from where Kory was. You sniffle, eying the ball of flame suspiciously as you pull from Rachel to stand next to Dick. You take his hand in yours, and he gives you a watery smile before focusing on the bright light coming down in front of you.

you could feel your heart skip a beat at the sight of Kory, flying, miraculously still alive. She gives you a warm smile when she lands. “Hi,” she chuckles, and you tear yourself from Dick to fling into her arms. You grip her tightly, tucking your head into your neck and inhaling her scent. the notes of smoke and cinnamon greet you, and you thank your lucky stars for bringing her back to you.

And Dick.

Dick, frozen to the spot when you left his arms, slowly approached the two of you. You pull back from the Tameranean, giving the vigilante a big grin as he takes her into his arms and cups one cheek. they stare at each other before he whispers, “I thought I lost you.”

“Me too,” she chuckles. She looks at you again, absolute adoration on her face. “Both of you.”

Dick leans to slot her lips against hers, and your heart flutters, happy to be reunited with the people you found yourself thinking about all the time. They break away, still grinning, before Kory turns toward you and kisses you. you eagerly meet her lips with your own, whining a bit before she pulls away before Dick takes her place.

You pull away and sigh, leaning into Dick’s arms as Kory moves to greet the rest of the team.

“I’m thankful for you, you know,” you say, glancing up at Dick. he hums in acknowledgment, eyes not once leaving the group before him. “I know it might be hard for me to express myself, but truly, Dick, you two make me the happiest person alive.” He looks at you, a warm smile on his face.

“I know,” he whispers before kissing your head. You close your eyes, relishing the feeling of his lips on your skin.

“Now, let’s go. I’m ready for a nice long shower and a mandatory cuddle session. It’s been way too long, and I don’t know how long I can sleep by myself.”

#dick grayson x reader #koriand'r x reader #dickkory x reader #poly!dickkory #poly!dickkory x reader #dc titans spoilers #dick grayson angst #koriand'r angst #dick grayson fluff #koriand'r fluff #julia.writes #i really wanted to use a gif from the final scene of theme two but it would be very spoiler-y so I decided against it #but god they're so hot #i love them so much

[enhyqenn]

❝ the cost of it all ❞ — TEASER

pairing. angel!ni-ki x demon!fem!reader

genre. short story, slow-burn, friends-to-enemies-to-lovers, fantasy, supernatural

summary. after nearly a decade of war, lord satan is forced to turn over a daughter as collateral for his crimes, paying a debt for the betrayal of his trust with the malakim. but as death seeps into the glass castle once again, reopening once-mended scars amongst the sky kingdom, allegiances begin to rub raw and old relationships flourish with the necessity for survival.

wc. 0.8k | taglist. open

note. posting this to come back from my year-long hiatus (lol) this is apart of @emeraldenha 's UNLIKELY collab! i highly recommend checking it out :)

playlist | read full version here

inhaling deeply, you sunk into your chair and smoothed down the imaginary wrinkles on your dress. fuck, you mentally cursed, itching to rub at your face. you had forgotten that the seven brothers each had a set of their own powers.

settling on fiddling with the chain around your neck, you observed your surroundings with a frown and met the stares of watching eyes.

“i don’t think glaring at them will cause them to burst into flames. your powers are nullified in here,” riki stated. his presence hadn’t startled you, and you had a small feeling that it was because some part of you knew he would show at the absence of his father.

resting your chin on a hand, you merely said, “i’m aware.”

he took the seat to your right. “then why do you look like you’re trying to light everyone in this room on fire?”

“because,” you started, tilting your head to look at him, “it’s fun. i like watching as they squirm and writhe. it makes me feel more powerful than i am.”

riki’s brows raised as he crossed an ankle over his knee. “we’re the only two people in this room dressed in black. people stare at us as we walk past. shouldn’t that make you feel powerful enough?”

“no,” you scoffed, letting your hand fall back to your side as you stared at him. “my definition of power seems to be very different from yours, nishimura.”

“it was always different,” riki said smoothly.

ouch.

mouth drawn in a tight line, you kissed your teeth, gaze sliding from him to the archangel now standing on the dais. seven identical thrones accompanied the king’s, the new seats all filled except one.

the crowd grew silent as someone tapped a spoon against a wine glass.

“greetings,” the king said with a sickening smile, his wings extended behind him in a subtle display of power. “oh, how i have waited for this moment, to welcome you all here to the castle on the occasion of good news.”

good news? you thought, eyes flashing to riki. his face heeded no information on whether he knew what this was about or not.

the king continued, his white hair shining under the chandelier light, making it appear silver. “here, in this ballroom, we have a very special guest among us. now, she has already made her appearance through an array of deviant actions, but i think her company here could bring us great benefit, wouldn’t you all agree?”

if every person in the room wasn’t already staring at you post entrance, they definitely were now.

your throat closed up at the sudden urge to vomit all over the tile flooring, and you swallowed down lingering anxiety as you stared at the king. you were almost certain that even though the wards around the room nullified your powers, your irises had turned a dark shade of red.

the monarch up front continued to talk, but the words started to slur together as blood thrummed in your ears. this is bad, you thought, forcing yourself to remain dormant in your chair. sudden applause erupted in the room, and someone grabbed your shoulder.

“what?” you heard yourself snap, eyes flicking to riki, who was now getting to his feet.

he nodded toward his father, dark hair falling past his ears, as his mouth curved into an amused smirk. he extended a hand. “dad requires your presence.”

blinking up at him, your mind shadowed with a haze as you stood slowly, ignoring his offered palm. squaring your shoulders, heels clacking on the marble with each step, you weaved through the crowd—riki right behind you—and forced your face to become unreadable. all eyes were on you, and while it wasn’t necessarily a foreign concept, you felt small. like a child hesitantly approaching its furious father.

“ah, there she is,” the king said, watching with a smile that made your stomach twist in on itself. “i’m happy you’re here…and so is everyone else.” he took your arm, turning you to face the crowd he addressed (though not before shooting a dirty look toward riki, sending the black-winged angel to his designated throne).

gulping, you stared at the large group of angels, some with and without wings; of individuals that called this place their home. the idea of people actually being happy here made your stomach knot.

the king continued to speak, it was white noise in your ears, his speech muffled. you continued to blankly stare down the crowd, focus landing on a pocket of empty space, not daring to meet any person’s gaze. you thought it better that you ignore them, even with all of their attention zoned in on your stilled figure.

“...and my sons will oversee her training and missions, making sure that she understands and complies with our rules.” the king moved his hand to your back, and you hoped to hell that you didn’t visibly flinch.

your life now consisted of being the new personal assassin to an archangel, and if you were to keep the impression you strived for, no weakness could be displayed. not now and not ever.

© enhyqenn 2023 | do not repost, republish, steal, or translate !!

#enhypen #enhypenwriters #enhypen x reader #kmysticsnet #enha x reader #enha #enhypen x female reader #kpop #niki x reader #nishimura riki x reader #ni ki x reader #enhypen drabbles #enhypen niki #ও enhyqenn’s the cost of it all