#❝ ✦ ◜young and menace◞ — musings.

[voidfcllen]

FROM THE INBOX: is there any specific adult villain Chad hates the most? I AM GENUINELY JUST CURIOUS DW. AND..... would there ever be an adult villain he is 'tolerate' of? lol / @bunnymuse​

You mean other then his parents? Sure, absolutely. He can be civil with most adult villains if they’re not actively antagonizing him or getting in the way of his mission. He might go all moody teen on them, but that’s it unless they start it first. He’s more likely to avoid them, but that’s really his response to everyone since turning traitor. The real question is how many adults can stay civil with him, let’s be real here. Chad made a lot of enemies in his eight years in the KND.

As for adults he outright hates, gotta give it up for Father, the guy who tried to bake other children into a cake for his own children’s birthday.

Chad is the designated babysitter at any given adult gathering where they have to bring their kids. Permanent kids table / older brother figure.

[nrvcntr]

My Lover is Like

hey remember how i said i'd write that fic about tav coming from a noble background and having a riddle that someone has to answer to date her and no one ever gets it right and then years later she tells gale and he knows immediately? anyway here it is

There are certain scents that bring back memories - warm grass on a summer’s day, fresh linens placed on a bed, and of course, the sickly sticky burn of a bottle of plum fizz, shared among friends. Astarion recoiled after he sniffed the open bottle, his nose scrunched in horror.

“You can’t be serious,” He said.

“You’re being dramatic. It isn’t that bad,” You replied.

You had found a crate full of bottles on your last trek and dragged it back to the campsite, anticipating a heroic welcome at your generous haul. It was nearing sunset and it seemed as good of a time as any to see what the contents of the crate were. Upon cracking the crate open, your eyes lit up at the sight of bottles on bottles of plum fizz. This had been the drink that defined your adolescence as a noble in Baldur’s Gate. It immediately brought back memories of revelry, singing songs next to bonfires, and a young Wyll Ravengard throwing up in the street. You pulled out a bottle and handed it to Astarion, who had reacted like a man who never knew the joys of noble debauchery.

“It smells like it could raise something from the dead and then kill it again,” He said, handing the bottle back to you.

“Look, we used to drink this all the time when we were kids. It’s like a rite of passage among children of nobility in Baldur’s Gate.”

Wyll, overhearing the conversation, came over to see what you were so impassioned about. At the sight of the bottle in your hand, he recoiled like someone had just smacked him upside the head.

“No. Get that thing away!” He shouted, shaking his hands.

“Oh, stop it. I remember you used to beg to play fizzy hands when we were younger,” You said.

“Fizzy hands.” Astarion said flatly, “What sort of braindead activity is fizzy hands?”

You raised your brow to Wyll, who explained that “fizzy hands” was the beloved drinking game of your youth, where a small magical seal was applied to two bottles of plum fizz, which an individual would hold. The seal wouldn’t break until both bottles were consumed.

“Fizzy hands leads to fizzy guts, which leads to…a fizzy mess, in the street. You couldn’t pay me to take a sip of that now.” Wyll said.

You looked around the campsite and gestured to Gale, who had been beginning the preparations for dinner so intently that he hadn’t noticed the failing case you were trying to make in favor of plum fizz.

“It’s nice to know that your taste in wine is nearly as bad as your taste in men,” Astarion mused, causing you to shoot him a farcefully menacing look. Your affections for Gale were no secret, and the two of you had shared an intimate moment in the Weave, but you were unsure of your current status, or even whether he really returned your feelings. You had begun to write it off as a passing fancy, something to daydream about during long days of traveling. Though, there was no hiding how much you enjoyed being around the man, your conversations often dragging well into the night after everyone else had fallen asleep. You had never met anyone else who seemed to understand you the way that Gale did, or whose company you enjoyed nearly half as much.

“You’re a man of taste, and you’re knowledgeable about wine. Can you settle a debate for us?” You asked Gale when he walked over.

“A glass of wine sounds delightful this evening. What’s the topic of debate?” He asked.

“Astarion and Wyll may not be as cultured as you and I. Just tell them about the fine properties of this blend,” You said, trying to communicate ‘please, say this tastes good’ in your expression as you poured a glass and handed it over.

Gale swirled the glass and his eyes widened at the scent. To his credit, he took an honest sip and racked his brain for something kind to say about it. “It has notes of…berry. And cinnamon. And…” He couldn’t do it. “Acid. It tastes like it would eat a hole through a table if you spilled some on it. Do the youth of Baldur’s Gate really ingest this willingly?” He asked.

You threw your hands up.

“Poor taste, the lot of you. It cannot be helped.”

After dinner, Astarion sauntered over to you, two glasses of plum fizz in hand.

“A drink together. Sort of a truce,” He said.

You were suspicious, but took the glass in hand. The spicy, bitter, sweet, and confusing concoction ran down your throat and made your stomach feel hot. Astarion’s glass was already empty, and he poured you both another. By the time you realized that Astarion had been pouring his drinks out to get you to continue drinking, you were drunk enough to begin telling stories of your youth in Baldur’s Gate.

“So, after Wyll threw up in the street -”

“Can you please stop talking about that. I have plenty of embarrassing stories I could tell at your expense, you know. Lock.” Wyll said pointedly.

“Lock?” Shadowheart asked.

You covered your face, feeling a burning sensation creep up your cheeks.

“What none of you realize is that our beloved companion here was once the most eligible bachelorette in Baldur’s Gate nobility. Her family was wealthy and she was beautiful, intelligent, and charming…”

“Whatever happened?” You asked, making yourself laugh.

“However, she never took a partner. Singles of all creeds, genders, and races tried, but no one could get through to her. So, she began to be known as ‘the lock of Baldur’s Gate’. And, what opens a lock but a key? And the key to her heart was to answer a riddle,” Wyll explained with a dramatic flourish.

“A riddle? How droll. That’s a little…presumptuous, don’t you think?” Astarion asked. You shrugged.

“Why a riddle?” Karlach asked.

“I didn’t want to end up with someone who was a complete dunce,” You joked. It was a half-truth, since the whole truth would have disrupted the mood of revelry among your companions.

“Well, do we get to hear it?” Shadowheart asked.

You leaned back and looked at the faces of your companions. Wyll shook his head, having heard this question lamented among the singles of Baldur’s Gate throughout his youth.

“What is loving Taglath like?” You asked, the question rolling off of your tongue like a well-rehearsed line.

“What a stupid question!” Astarion huffed, rolling his eyes. He had no idea what the answer could be.

“Oh, do you know the answer, then? Since it’s so stupid,” You said, unable to wipe the smirk off of your face. It always delighted you to stump someone with the riddle, and it delighted you even more to watch them struggle with it.

“What is loving like?” You repeated, prodding Astarion for the answer.

“Darling, loving you is like poison seeping through my veins,” Astarion said, pretending to be a romantic poet, his hand gripping his chest, “- and it kills me to be parted from you,” He added, taking your hand in his icy cold grasp.

“Very sweet, but no,” You responded.

Everyone laughed, getting a little chuckle out of Astarion’s foolishness.

“Oh come on, it’s not like any of you geniuses know the answer,” Astarion said, raising a brow to the group. He looked around at their curious faces and wonders aloud, “Do you?”

“Uh, I don’t remember my childhood. Much less silly poems,” Shadowheart said, but thought about it for a moment. “Is it like a rose? Something beautiful out of the dirt?”

You shook your head.

“Chk. This is a waste of time,” Lae’zel said..

“C’mon, Lae’zel, what do you think loving is like?” Wyll probed, the githyanki rolling her eyes at him.

Lae’zel replied, “Like a well-won battle, your enemies dead at your feet.” There is a pause before she asked, “Did I answer correctly?”

“No,” You replied.

Karlach wiped her hands on her pants, not waiting to be asked. “You’re barking up the wrong tree if you ask me, solider,” She said, “But I’ll give it a try. Is it like a cool drink of water on a hot night?”

“That’s sweet, Karlach. It’s own little poem, even. But no,” You said.

“Well what’s the answer?” Astarion huffed, getting frustrated at this little display of ignorance.

“Salamander!” Wyll interjected, snapping his fingers like he cracked the code. This made everyone crack up, to his dismay. “No, because - I mean, uh - well, it’s better than corpses!” He insisted. This only made everyone laugh more.

In this revelry, no one even thought to glance at Gale, who had been watching the scene with a bemused little smile on his face.

There was a lull when the laughter died down, the silence of everyone taking a breath after a hearty laugh.

Through the silence, two words cut through the air like a knife directly to your heart.

“The Sun.”

You gasped (a reaction that, in retrospect, embarrassed you with how dramatic it was). You stared at the speaker, Gale’s dark eyes glinting in the firelight. You felt you must have looked ridiculous, your jaw agape.

In all of the years of telling the riddle, no one had ever known the answer. The key to your heart, you joked. But it had been more serious than you ever let on. As each suitor fumbled through wrong answers, it had only solidified your belief that true love would never be yours. That you would eventually have to settle for someone who couldn’t really understand you.

It was like time stopped, the visions of your companions becoming a blur as Gale came into focus.

Gale, meanwhile, appeared to be blissfully unaware that he had just broken your brain (what was left of it, at least).

“That’s…right. How did you know?” You choked out, hardly above a whisper.

“It’s a very clever riddle. See, most would probably assume that the riddle is about the works of Taglath, whom is renowned as an iconic romantic poet. His works adorn his lover with brilliant metaphors that have captured readers since their inception,” Gale explained to the group, lecturing his never-be students.

“That’s probably why Gef Deldus spent one summer immersed in Taglath’s works,” Wyll recalled, chuckling, “He told everyone that he had solved the riddle. He was convinced you would be his bride by the end of the season. What was his answer?” He asked.

“Love is like a poem,” You replied, still dumbfounded by Gale’s answer.

“The education in Baldur’s Gate leaves much to be desired,” Gale snarked, then continued, “What most people don’t know is that Taglath’s most prominent muse was another poet named Alanis. Unfortunately, most of her work has been lost to history. Almost no complete works remain, and only fragments have been collected for publication. But in her most complete work, she compares her lover to the Sun. It’s a gorgeous poem about loving someone who burns brightly and the fears associated with taking a lover of prominence. Loving despite fear,” He said.

You wondered how it was possible that your body felt like it was on fire but also like someone had thrown a bucket of ice water on you. Did none of your companions notice that you were going insane? The realization rocked you like an earthquake.

Gale Dekarios was not a passing fancy, someone to think about kissing when the option presented itself. He was neither a daydream nor a wet dream to pass the time at different hours. He was not the greatest friend you had ever had, the person who you most looked forward to speaking to each morning after you woke and each night before you went to bed. The person who you spoke about nothing and everything with, played games with, or just enjoyed a comfortable silence with. He was not your traveling companion, nor even an ally who had risked his life for you as you had done for him. It was impossible for Gale to be any one of those things because he was all of them all at once and so much more.

Oh, fuck, you realized, your knees ready to give way.

You were in love with him.

The sound of your companions laughing and chattering together mixed together and sounded like ocean waves. If anyone turned to ask you anything you probably would have just stared at them blankly. You attempted to take a step toward Gale and the drinks you had earlier in the night went to your head, sending you tumbling forward and onto the ground.

“Looks like the plum fizz kicked in. ‘Key’, maybe you should take the ‘lock’ to bed,” Shadowheart said to Gale.

You thought that if you closed your eyes, maybe the ground would swallow you up and you would never have to look at Gale again. Instead, you felt him help you to your feet, allowing you to lean against him as he walked you to your tent. You were desperate to know what was going through his mind - did he realize the gravity that he answer had?

“Easy now,” Gale said, helping you down onto your bedroll. He treated you gently, helping you to unlace your boots and get settled in under the blanket. You were sick to your stomach at being doted on by him and kept quiet, trying to focus on anything but the way he looked at you. He left for a moment and came back to bring you some water.

“Is there anything you need?” He asked.

You were quiet for a moment, then spoke.

“Gale?”

“Yes?”

“After we had that moment in the Weave…you mentioned that we shouldn’t talk about it then, with the orb being unstable and everything going on,” You said, then allowed yourself to lean into your own intoxication, asking what was truly on your mind. “Was that really the reason? Because if you don’t see me that way, you can tell me. It won’t hurt my feelings.” The words poured out of you too quickly for you to worry about sounding insecure. It was a lie, of course, that it wouldn’t hurt your feelings. Being rejected by Gale would be devastating.

Gale looked thoughtful, then recited the end of Alanis’s fragments of her poem about her lover.

“My lover is like the Sun, Brilliant and bright He eclipses me And yet I yearn

My lover is like the Sun Blinding and unyielding When he touches me I burn”

He placed his hand on your cheek, his gaze looking through you and into your soul. The two of you could say so much without a single word.

“Am I the Sun, or are you?” You asked.

Gale had loved the poem when he read it as a boy, and later thought of it often when he was with Mystra, trying to make sense of the reality of having a goddess for a lover. He had often wondered if he would ever have an identity outside of being Mystra’s chosen, or whether he would forever be tied to the Goddess. And if that was the case, why did the idea of it make him burn with jealousy?

However, the poem had taken on new meaning since he met you. He felt like the Sun, a ball of fire ready to explode in his chest at any moment. As badly as he wanted to hold you close, he knew that doing so would destroy you. Still, he wondered, might it be worth it to burn if he could have one moment of knowing what it was like to be yours entirely?

Or rather, were you the Sun? He was certainly transfixed by you, drawn to your brilliance. You, a mortal who dared to be more brilliant and enticing than his Goddess. Would following you lead him down the path to certain doom - or worse, would getting close to you lead you to your own demise? It was that thought that kept him up at night, wondering if he should escape in the night. To save you from himself, or at least get you as far away from the danger as possible.

Gale contemplated your question.

“I’m not sure,” He finally replied.

“I don’t know, either.”

You placed your hand on Gale’s, your gaze fixed on each other, searching for an answer in each other’s eyes. Neither of you could find it.

However, there was one thing that was clear to both of you: whether through flames of salvation or damnation, you would burn for each other.

[cryptidghostgirl]

Understand (Dark!Alastor x Exorcist!Reader)

Pairing: Dark!Alastor x Exorcist!Wife!Reader

Description: Y/n has been using the exterminations as a way to try and search for the soul of her earthly husband for years. What happens when she actually succeeds in finding him?

Warnings: Cannon typical violence and angst. Also uh,, not healthy. (The end is kinda fucked up)

Word Count: 2,411

Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List

Y/n slid the dark mask over her face, jiggling it slightly to make sure it had clicked properly into place. She had never wanted to be an exorcist, hated the very thought. When she had been alive, she was the type of human who felt bad about accidentally stepping on bugs. If she had had any other choice, she would’ve taken it but she didn’t and so Y/n tried her best to detach herself from the experience.

Exorcists were a handpicked group by Adam. If you weren’t one, you didn’t know about them and if you knew about them, you were fucked. Y/n’s entire existence in the peaceful afterlife had been turned on its head when she’d been chosen. Pulled out of normal day to day and pushed into harsh, year round training. There was nothing nice about it and nothing she could do. No one listened to a thing she said, not even Sera. Sometimes, Y/n caught herself wishing she’d just been sent to Hell instead.

There was, however, one small benefit to these yearly trips. While it was a pain to act like she was being more violent than she was on the field, a constant terror in her life that Adam and Lute would find out she’d been letting demons go, it also gave her the opportunity to search.

Y/n had been married in life. Her husband had been a criminal, one of the worst, something she hadn’t learned until after his death. Still, she couldn’t stop herself from loving him. Every day on earth she’d lived without him by her side had been abysmal. No other love was quite like his love.

When she had first arrived in Heaven, Y/n had searched everywhere for him. There had been no luck. It had been a foolish hope, she knew: looking for a serial killer among the blessed but, she couldn’t help herself. She wanted to hear him explain, wanted to understand. Most of all, though she tried not to think about this part, she wanted to give him a kiss. To throw her arms around his neck with abandon the way she did when they were young. She wanted to hear his voice, have him tell her he still loved her too and mean it. She wanted to know she hadn’t wasted her life, her one chance at a living love.

The gates opened and Y/n dove through with the hundreds of other exorcists. Their game was underfoot, their cat and mouse sadistic chase. For Y/n? The search was on.

----

Alastor watched as the exorcist descended upon him. He was feeling brave and stupid, empowered after his near win against Vox just a few weeks before. Cracking his knuckles, he wondered what the exorcist’s voice would sound like if added to his broadcast.

A wicked grin on his face, she hovered before him. Her wings flapped with great strength, sending gusts of wind Alastor’s way as she kept herself vertically in the air. Alastor simply looked down, pointedly away from the exorcist, and straightened his lapel with his hand that wasn’t holding his microphone. He was trying to make her angry. As she inched closer to him, Alastor assumed it had worked.

“Don’t see many of your lot around these parts this time of year.” he mused, checking his nail beds, “What can I help you with?”

There was a silence. Alastor looked up towards the angel, confused. Normally a blasé statement like that would have gotten a rise out of anyone intent on killing him. Instead, the lights of her eyes on the mask just stared at him. Slowly, she lowered herself to the ground.

“Say that again.”

Her voice came out muffled and harsh through the mask, clearly altered by some equipment within. He laughed, taking a menacing step forward. Leaning down condescendingly, he conceded to her demand.

“How may I be of use?”

The exorcist was silent again. After a moment, Alastor shrugged. He straightened himself up again, his hands on top of his microphone as if it were a cane. He summoned his shadows.

“Well you’re certainly making this easy.”

His horns began to grow, throwing strange and menacing shadows across the walls of the ally way. Still, the angel stood there.

“It… it can’t be.” she mumbled under her breath.

Alastor raised his eyebrows.

“Can’t be who, darling?” he asked, feigning innocence, “The Radio Demon can’t be such a big name you folks up in Heaven hear my shows, can it?”

Alastor let out a laugh, taking a step forward as the exorcist tentatively took a step back.

“Oh who am I kidding, of course it is!” he exclaimed.

The exorcist took another step back as Alastor threw his microphone into the air, catching the center of its stand neatly in his outstretched hand. Her back hit the shadows he had put up to block the ally way and she frantically turned her head to the side, checking what it was she’d run into.

Alastor tsked her, walking up so they were just a few feet apart. Harshly, he used his microphone to turn his face to hers again.

“Don’t look away from me, dear. I might get jealous.”

“Were you married?” the exorcist asked suddenly.

Alastor froze in his tracks, his brow furrowed the slightest bit.

“Sorry if that’s weird.” she stuttered out, rubbing her arm holding the spear uncomfortably, “I just, well, I’ve been looking for my husband? He died in the early 1930s and well, he sounded a lot like you.”

Alastor’s heart dropped, crashing into his diaphragm. The angel watched him nervously as he removed his microphone from the side of her head. She let out a breath she’d been holding, something that was quickly taken in again as he used the end of his microphone to life her mask from her face.

It clattered harshly against the concrete as it fell from her face. Alastor’s eyes went wide. There was no doubt about it. Sure, she had a soft ethereal glow about her now, but hadn’t she always in a way? Sure, her hair was cropped around her ears and she was in armor. It didn’t matter, in an instant he knew. The shadows fell from around them, his horns shrunk back to their normal size.

“Y/n?”

“Alastor?” she asked back, just as breathless.

Slowly, she reached a hand out to his face and cupped his cheek. He leaned into it on instinct. Y/n’s spear clattered to the floor, her other hand finding his other cheek as she looked up at him in simple amazement.

“You…” gingerly, Alastor reached his free hand up, laying it on top of one of Y/n’s, “Of course you’ve been in Heaven this whole time. You were always so good, much too good for me.”

“Oh hush, Alastor.” Y/n scolded lightly, her eyes filling with tears, “You know I don’t like it when you put yourself down like that.”

“No, Y/n.” he let his microphone disappear, taking both her hands off his face and holding them intently in his own, “You don’t understand. I did terrible things when I was alive, I still do them now. There is a reason I am down here.”

“I know.” she responded almost immediately.

“No, y-”

“I don’t mean to interrupt but Al, I do know.” Y/n cut him off, “You were killed hurrying a body hun, hard not to. Plus, when the police searched the house they told me what they’d, um, found in the basement freezer.”

Y/n chose her words carefully, her eyes averted. When she looked back at Alastor, he was still smiling yes but, there was something confused about him too. They had grown up together. She had always known exactly what was going on in that head of his. Well, most of the time anyways.

“I’ve been looking for you.”

“You have?” Alastor asked, “After everything, after… God, how long did I leave you up there alone?”

“About thirty years.” Y/n shrugged.

There was a moment of silence. A question tugged at Alastor’s tongue, one he wasn’t sure he really wanted to know the answer to. Still, time was running out. The screams of demons being attacked were becoming more and more infrequent. He didn’t know if he’d ever get another chance.

“Did your new husband make it up to heaven with you?”

Y/n’s eyes went wide.

“New husba- Alastor, I never remarried.”

“Why not? You deserved to be treated well, Y/n. To have had a good life. Why waste it all on me?”

“I loved you. I still do.”

Y/n knew it was a bad idea, knew the risks if any other exorcist in the area heard her. Still, she couldn’t help but feel it would be worth it to die, knowing she’d found Alastor and that he knew she still loved him.

“You find anyone down here yourself?” Y/n asked awkwardly after a moment, looking around the ally.

Alastor took a step forward, closing what little space had been left between them. Like he had done it a thousand times before, because he had done it a thousand times before, he raised a hand to Y/n’s cheek and turned her face to his. Eyes wide, lips slightly parted, she stared up at him.

“No one.” Alastor shook his head, “There’s no one but you.”

A horn sounded from a ways away and Y/n turned up to the sky. Waves of exorcists were flying over head, going back to the portal, back to heaven. Y/n took a step back, Alastor’s hand falling from her cheek.

“Al, I have to go.”

“Please, Y/n. Stay with me here. I can’t get to you up there, I don’t want to lose you again.”

“I have to go, Al. I don’t want to cause any more trouble for you and everyone else down here.” she insisted, turning to where her mask lay on the ground, “I’ll be back in twelve months, I promise.”

As Y/n leaned over to grab her called disguise, her wings splayed out behind her. Light hit the tip of her spear just right in that moment, catching Alastor’s eye. A wicked idea filtered into his mind. Something he never could have done, would have ever even imagined when he’d been alive. But now? Hell had hardened him, taught Alastor sometimes you had to be cruel to get what you want and not just when it came to killing creeps. He had tried life without Y/n before, tried nearly sixty years of it. Alastor didn’t like it one bit.

“We will get to see one another then,” Y/n was saying as her trembling fingers fumbled for the edge of her mask in the dim light, “and I promise I’ll find a way we can end up together for good, I really d-”

A searing pain shot through her, causing her words to catch in her throat. It was worse than anything Y/n had ever felt before, emanating from the center of her back. Panting in pain, she reached a hand behind her back. It came away wet with sticky, golden blood. Her vision blurring, Y/n looked up at Alastor. Clutched in his right fist was the head of her spear. From the other hand, he dropped her left wing to the floor.

“Alastor…” she panted, her breath weak, “what…”

He took a step forward and an arrow of fright shot through Y/n. She tried to take one back but the pain was starting to really get to her now and she stumbled, falling to the ground. Alastor stood over her, smiling menacingly down as she scooted back from him. Y/n was full on hyperventilating now.”

“Al, what are you doing? What… how… I don’t understand.”

Alastor hushed her gently, the way he used to when they were little kids and he found her crying. Tears began to drip from Y/n’s eyes and she jolted violently with fear as his clawed hand grabbed her shoulder, forcing her to twist around and giving him access to her other wing. He grabbed it, pulling it out to its fullest extent.

“Alastor please.” Y/n begged, tears rolling hotly down her face, “Please don’t. Please.”

“My, these sure are pretty.” Alastor hummed, admiring the weft of the feathers as he held Y/n’s remaining wing.

“Why would you do this!?” Y/n screamed, her voice echoing in the empty ally.

Alastor fell to his knees behind her, still holding her wing out, still immobilizing her in pain.

“I’ve already lost you once.” he said softly, leaning into Y/n’s ear. She whimpered, trying to scoot away from him but unable to due to the hold he had on her appendage, “I won’t do it again. If Satan, or God, or the fucking universe think they can keep us apart, then not a single goddamn one of them has been paying attention because you are mine. You are mine and there is nothing that I wouldn’t do to keep things that way.”

As the final words left Alastor’s lips, he cut through Y/n’s remaining wing in a single motion. She let out an earsplitting scream before passing out in a steadily growing puddle of her own golden blood.

“There, there my love.” Alastor hummed gently, dropping the spear to the ground and smoothing her her wild hair down around her face as he pulled himself to his feet.

Straightening his jacket, Alastor leaned down and picked her limp body up off the sidewalk. The injuries were bad, but nothing he couldn’t help her handle.

“I just can’t explain to you how happy I am to have you back in my arms.” he said to Y/n’s sleeping form, looking down at her tired and tearstained face with nothing short of adoration, “You might be mad for a while, but I can handle that. At the end of the day, we will both know that you’re not going anywhere.”

Leaning down, he planted a soft kiss on Y/n’s forehead. For a moment, his smile went hollow. He hadn’t meant to go this far, to hurt her this bad. Alastor had just been so scared, so utterly terrified at the prospect of losing her again.

“She will understand.” he reassured himself, “She has to understand.”

——

Part Two → Caged Bird (Dark!Alastor x Exorcist!Reader)

[princessbrunette]

gf reader and bf rafe but he used to pick on her before they started dating so she teases him about going from a bully to a simp

i feel like i never write rafe in a good mood so here it is :*

.・゜✧﹒☁﹒✧゜・．

you sit on the kitchen counter swinging your legs, watching him count a load of money on the table. you wore his shirt, the man having just fucked you within an inch of your life not even twenty minutes prior.

as you existed domestically in the moment, you thought of your past with rafe, your days at school together. think of a stereotypical jock; backwards cap and letterman jacket. that was rafe. you were quiet, kept to your self more— and rafe wasn’t necessarily mean to you at school, a few years your senior — but he was young, a dick, and did stupid shit to get your attention because he thought you were sweet and wouldn’t stand up to him. just stuff like shutting your locker as he’d walk past, or taking things from you and holding them out of your reach, or purposely blocking your path in the hallway, continuing to blockade you each time you tried to move around him. usual stupid stuff.

a few years down the line, and he still occasionally messed with you — but he loved you, and loved you hard so it made up for it. you giggle to yourself, the man glancing over his shoulder at you distractedly.

“wha’s funny?”

“just thinking about school, how you’d pick on me… and now look at you, whipped.” you make yourself laugh, watching him huff a chuckle out of his nose as he shakes his head.

“dont you think saying i picked on you is… a tad exaggerated?” he drawls, neatening the stack he made before folding it and clipping it, turning to face you, deciding to entertain the conversation.

“i dunno, you were kind of a menace.” you tilt your head cutely as he approached you slowly until he’s caging you in, hands leaning on the counter top either side of where you sit.

“a menace, okay— yeah, n’what am i now then, huh?” he quietens his voice, tilting his head, the word tease practically scribbled across his forehead.

you lean in like you’re gonna kiss him, giggle bubbling up inside you as you speak. “pussywhipped.”

he pushes off the counter with a tight lipped yet amused smile, shaking his head. “alright, yeah— should have seen that one coming.”

you giggle, trying to pull him back to you with your feet as he steps away but remain unsuccessful as he walks back to the table to continue his organising.

“from bully to simp.” you muse happily, rafe scoffing lightheartedly with his back to you once more.

“good pussy will do that to a man, what can i say?” his response is slow, distracted as he counts under his breath, pocketing a wad as you watch him.

“oh is that what it is?” you can’t contain your happy giggles, head still airy from the fucking he gave you earlier.

“s’exactly what it is. why you bringin’ this up, huh? you miss bein’ bullied or something?” he peeps over his shoulder once more when he hears the flats of your feet hit the ground, padding over to bother him.

“so you admit you picked on me?” you smile coyly despite his back being to you and he promptly changes this, slowly spinning on his heel with a smirk.

“i’ll admit anything you want if it gets you to shut up ‘bout this.” he lightly taps the top of your head with a wad of money, making you squeeze your eyes shut with a delighted giggle once more.

“deal.” your hands slide up his chest to snake round his neck, pulling him in for a kiss.

.・゜✧﹒☁﹒✧゜・．

[zhongrin]

| ◆ ch. vago mundo ⑊ zhongli

--⟢ ii. little dragon, big dragon |   teyvat continues to change, and nobody can stop it. but morax hopes that some things stay unchanged.

𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ⬙ 𝑚𝑎𝑖𝑛 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ⬙ 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡

◇ tags ◇ fluff, rex lapis in the olden days is a (lovable) menace

◇ a/n ◇ everyone shush and hear me out!!!!!!! smol dragon!zhongli draped around your neck and purring like a cat. that's it that's the post.

"is that…"

"that improper animal… this new generation of disciples are just too full of themselves."

"the divine one is just far too lenient… i fear the young ones will continuously abuse their kindness."

rex lapis squints his eyes towards the whispers of the less fortunate souls, inwardly scoffing at the open jealousy in their words. it's your gentle touch that pulls him out of his musings, and he lightly cranes his eyes up to stare at your visage.

"this is quite a commendable feat, rex. to have such precise control over your physique… keep this up and you might even become an archon one day," you chuckle, fingers lightly tracing the small horns on the sides of his compact-sized dragon form.

he's unable to stop the instinctive purrs which are reverberating from the back of his throat, amber eyes closing in bliss as you let him curl even closer around your neck, though he takes extra care so his scales won't hurt you in the process.

"you know, a friend of yours came to find me the other day. guizhong, i think was her name? she told me about your… excursions."

the low purring immediately stops, and you hold back a laugh when you feel the little dragon shift uneasily around you.

"were those glaze lilies you gave me the other day from guizhong's little garden after all, hmm?"

".... maybe."

"oh, rex… you know how much she adores them."

"but you said you liked them the last time she showed you…"

"i do, but that doesn't mean you can filch them off guizhong's garden."

"but- she stole my treasures to give you those earrings last time, so now we're even!"

you had to laugh at that. the petty little squabbles from the younger acolytes are always one of your constant sources of entertainment, and this one is no different. you find the dynamics of this particular group amusing, and you can't deny that you might be a little biased when it comes to them. especially to the little dragon. he's witty and a little cheeky, just like all the hatchlings, but something tells you that he'll grow into an individual to be feared if he gains enough wisdom over the few hundred - or thousand, years.

you can only hope you'll be there to witness it when the time comes.

"i suppose, little wyrmling."

rex huffs, tail flopping back to your shoulder, snuggling closer around your neck.

"you didn't have to do all that, you know. i think they deserve to be angry."

morax shakes his head stubbornly as he closes the door of your bedroom behind the two of you. his hand lands on the small of your back and he leads you further into the room.

"while i have seen you making many mistakes throughout the olden times, i know you will always strive to do what you can to make up for it. i would never wish for dominion, but as long as i walk upon teyvat, there shall be no being who gets away with besmirching your name. and especially not in the nation i've cultivated to honor your very being."

you sigh at his tenacity and turn to face him instead, resting your hands on his chest and giving him your best patient smile. the hard lines on his expression smooth out, and you can feel him relax under your touch. soon enough his own hands fall back onto your waist, this time softly palming the sides of your hips, like a kitten making biscuits.

"though i'm honored, i think it's rather petty of you to go to such lengths when all they did was gossip… people have been working hard to rebuild the houses, right? an earthquake is just going to render their efforts useless…"

"ahem…. i'll admit that it wasn't my intention to react in such an… overly dramatic manner. it is my mistake. i realize now that i should have controlled myself better."

"oh, morax… this childish side of yours truly amuses me sometimes," you giggle when you sighted the reddened tips of his ears and the way he's lightly chewing his bottom lip in guilt.

sometimes you still can't believe that the rex lapis himself could be so… adorable.

"okay, enough of that! creator worship time is over! i want my dearest zhongli now, please?"

he perks up at your wish and you step back to watch him shift into his mortal form. it takes him a short few seconds, but it always fascinates you, the way he manages to do it so elegantly and the magical way his body transforms into a familiar appearance.

slender fingers absent of talons reach out towards you, and you meet him halfway, fingers interlacing as you nuzzle into his chest with a satisfied hum. zhongli's deep chuckle caresses your ears and he maneuvers the both of you towards the nearby armchair. but before he can sit down and pull you on top of him, an idea hits you and you pull away slightly to tug on his clothes.

"can i play with your hair?"

"it would be my pleasure, dear."

with a pleased grin, you grab the various cushions and blankets from the couches nearby, making a small nest-like surface on the floor instead. zhongli sits cross-legged on it as soon as you plop onto the higher chair right behind the small area you've made for him, and your fingers automatically tug off the hairpin that holds his hair down his back. you unconsciously hum a tune of ancient lullabies as you continue on to play with his long strands of brown-gold hair, and the god of contracts lets himself melt onto your hold with a contented sigh.

thousands of years may have passed, and you might have lost the memories of your olden days with him forever.

yet, as you continue to spoil him with your sweet words and comforting presence, he realizes that your love for teyvat, for him, no matter which forms and the identity he takes, has stayed true and strong even without those memories.

and zhongli realizes that it's all he could ever ask for.

© zhongrin | 2023 ◆ no repost. reblogs much appreciated. feel free to reach out to submit suggestions, feedback, comments, or if you just want to talk!

◇ taglist ◇ @genshinparty | @abyssmal-skies | @hamdehlesmis | @depressivecomforts | @sophiethewitch1 | @why-am-i-here-someone-save-me | @sunnshineflxwer | @heartonthemoon | @yuutasbabe | @percyval-archives | @carbs-need-more-love | @rebeccka | @queen-belial | @stygianoir | @silentmoths | @niktwazny303 | @dustofthedailylife | @herdrops | @diebischesther | @marina-and-the-memes | @angryhope | @mixed-kester | @shuangxo | @fiannee | @lordbugs | @anonymousficreader | @shizunxie | @ladylofspades | @sup-zfam | @ansy-tea | @irethepotato | @nachotrash | @algrimmammon | @sassy-cat-in-town | @syrenkitsune | @smokipoki | @pvbbyb0y | @shipperxchaos | @crystalflygeo | @n3r0-1417 | @ciexuvia

[pure-oddity]

Worth the Trouble

Simon/Ghost x Mean!fem!Reader

Warnings: slightly toxic? Reader is verbally mean and ghost Def manipulates the situation so he can have the missus come see him. PiV , Smut MDNI

“Heard LTs lost it, goin around on a rampage.”

“Just about near it. Price thinks he's injured and trying to downplay it. Won't tell him much aside from ‘I'm fine’. Hell for all we know hes just got a man-cold”

“Ach, the poor bastard”

Gaz snorts and continues with the next set, Soap checks for signs of struggle or strain before continuing (a dutiful gym buddy)

“Heard he blew some recruits ear out.”

“Think he backed out entirely, can't blame him - if I weren't already knee deep in this shit I'd tuck tail and run from Ghost”

“You n me both. Well. I did always have a taste for trouble. Probably woulda sought him out and he mighta strangled me.” he muses happily imagining his Lt tossing him around.

“Surprised he hasn't already “ gaz laughs, his eyes determined through the final pushes.

Soap laughs at that, thinks his lt has gotten close once or twice.

“Don't worry much about it though” gaz grunts.

Soap meets gaz's eye, watches a bead of sweat trickle down into his hair line.

“Why not?”

“Captain says he's calling in the secret weapon. Going nuclear.”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” Johnny questions, thinks of what could possibly be nuclear in regards to Ghost.

“Dunno. But I guess we'll find out.” Gaz finishes, setting the bar back in place and sitting up with a groan. He gives a sniff to his shirt and audibly gags.

“Yea that's rank, you wanna hit the showers?”

“Sayin I stink Garrick?”

“Sayin we should hit the showers”

“Cheeky cunt”

Soap follows his fellow Sargent to freshen up in the shower block, a stealthy sniff to his armpit solidifying his choice in joining.

The issue of the ornery Lieutenant momentarily forgotten.

—----------

He always knew price had an easy time with the ladies, but to parade one around so freely - a young woman at that?

“Well well, did price finally let you out his basement? I knew he had a pretty bird caged away somewhere!”

He reaches out a rugged palm and his smile is all boyish charm.

“Names Soap, nice to meet you bonnie”

She doesn't respond and doesn't move to shake his hand. Her arms remain seated within pockets of the leather jacket she adorns. Just continues to chew a wad of gum, sizing him up like one would an enemy. She looks bored, mildly annoyed.

He can't feel too upset over the snuff, the ample amount of cleavage on display makes up for it.

“Not the sociable type? No problem, work with one of those - I'll break you down”

She looks at price now, who - soaps noticing - looks like he swallowed a lemon laced with depression.

“MacTavish. This young lady is not my bird - lovely as she is - but she is the solution to our problem.”

For once Soap is speechless. Realization kicking in suddenly and with a force so strong his jaw drops.

“.....is that why he's pissed?? Lads gone without a bit of pussy and he's lost the plot? “

“MacTavish”

“Just sayin! Sorry lass, don't mean to be crude” he does mean to be crude actually. He is crude, but usually he waits till the second date before parading that fact around.

“......let's just get this over with. Fuckin bullshit for you to pull me out here. again” She grosses, looking miffed.

“Right, yes. Again, I do sincerely apologize- I wouldn't if I had another option”

“You're his captain, just order the fucker to act right” She scolds him, dissaproval evident in how she sizes him up.

“Unfortunately my lieutenant is a master of malicious compliance. Sweet as sugar with me, but a menace to anyone else.”

She sighs something resigned and annoyed. He watches as she blows a small bubble and pops it with a sharp click. Her brows scrunched and nose wrinkled into a sneer.

“Are…are you actually here to - do I get something like this if I start throwing a fit?!”

He eyes the woman next to his captain as she walks past him, seemingly familiar with the layout of the building.

“MacTavish. Shut up.”

“Yes sir.”

A brief pause

“Is it cause he's a lieutenant? Do I need to be a lieutenant?”

“Give me 50 Sargent MacTavish “

“Yes sir.”

He drops quickly and works through the 50, counting quickly before springing back up and towards the direction his captain and mystery woman left. He catches up to the tail end of their conversation.

“-he won't come out”

“really. Have you tried, I don't know, kicking the door in?”

“No. A bit extreme don't you think?”

He watches as she walks to the door, examines it, and he thinks ‘no, no way’. Watches as she turns and braces herself against the doorframe and thinks ‘Oh she's insane’ as she picks her foot up and slams it back against the door with a solid thump.

She gets 4 in, he notices the damage to the door grows steadily - the odd tinge of arousal at the unhinged behavior of this woman.

Feels his stomach drop to his knees when the door is thrust open and she's dragged inside the darkness.

The door is hardly shut when the screaming begins.

His captain waits patiently while he looks towards him and the door.

His LT is loud but she's managed to be louder. He can't make much out from how fast everything is said, muffled through the slightly askew door

“-acting like a fucking toddler!”

While this isn't his particular brand of dirty talk, he supposes it makes sense for the ghost to want a heavier hand.

Too heavy, it would seem. The loud thump is jarring, enough so that he springs towards the door. Price grabs him, handles him into his side with a fierce look and a sternly mouthed ‘no’

The screaming had stopped. The silence is deafening. Johnny thinks at least one of them is dead. A woman that crazy probably wouldn't go down that easy, even against a ghost.

His body flinches when the door opens, he expects a limp hand to flop out horror movie style- heavily surprised to find the lass perfectly intact, not a hair out of place.

He peeks in the open doorway to see Ghost knelt in a way that can only be described at revenant. He sits at her feet, face pressed to her stomach while he clutches her body to him. she has a hand on each of his shoulders and glares down like an angry God.

“We'll be in the infirmary captain, he's got an infection. Stupid fuck.” She slips from Ghosts grasp with some struggle, swatting at clutching hands as she commands him “up”

Ghost, much like his namesake,rises like the dead and slinks out of the shadows of his room and into the light. He looks, oddly pleased(downright giddy) for a guy just pronounced a ‘stupid fuck’.

He watches as the fury marches towards the medbay, her hellhound shadow tight on her heels - might have even carried her if she didn't look as rabid as she did.

“Captain?”

“That's Doll, Johnny. Ghosts leash, and Simon's keeper. Try to annoy her less yea? She sends ghost after you and there'll be fuck all I can do to stop him.”

“Heard…..doll? Really? I think of a doll, I think sweet and porcelain. Not, pissy with a heavy heaping of crazy. She looks like the type to cut brake lines.”

“Yea well, just don't let her know which car is yours and you'll be fine.”

“Sure she won't just cut them all?”

He sighs, something heavy and worn.

“I'm hoping she's forgotten where we keep them.”

—-------

“Hi just him today, thanks.”

“Oh um, and you are?” Doctor Nicole has seen a lot. Hasn't seen this yet. Might see more if spouses were more common on base.

“Im his voice currently. And his brain. He's not smart enough to use either on his own to tell you about his infection. Left leg, by the way.”

“Oh well. Oh. Um. I - I'll have you hop up on the bed then lieutenant! I'll take a look and. And fix that.”

He doesn't move, stares at the woman(his voice and brain, apparently) like she's the only one in the room - in the world.

His world groans and throws her head back - he chuffs.

“Listen to the fucking doctor , on the bed. Now.”

His steps are heavy and solid as he seats himself on the edge of the bed. Thighs spread and hands limp between his legs. He looks like a hunched beast eyeing his next meal.

The doctor finds that having her keep his attention is better than having it herself.

“Well. Uh, left you said?”

“Yeah. Calf area - knife probably? Something sharp.”

“Well then, uh , lieutenant? Are you able to, to roll your pant leg up for me to see? Or is the pain too severe?” she prods gently, he doesn't respond.

“Roll up your pants.” like a marionette with strings tightly wrapped around her fingers, he moves to roll up his jeans to reveal the sickly wound.

“Oh yeah definitely an infection. Odd for you lieutenant, usually you're better at catching this.”

The woman scoffs and slumps in her seat. He leans towards her as she sends him a scathing look.

“He's a fucking man child. Threw a tantrum to get what he wanted and now he's being pampered.”

“Mhm.” The affirmation is the most sound he's made since coming in here.

“Well I'll just. I'll just get this taken care of” Nicole stumbles put, feeling like an intruder.

“ ‘Priciate that doc. Don't be afraid to make it hurt.” Her tone is tinged with sadistic hope.

“Oh I. I'd never intentionally hurt someone under my care - that's unethical “ the military may not be the most ethical, but she's damn sure going to try to be.

“Pity. He'd deserve it, letting it get this bad-willingly might I add.” She snips at him , face scrunched.

He hums something delighted, and the doctor wonders if she should order a psych evaluation. Remembers the 141 are notorious for dodging said evals and dismisses the thought entirely.

If he likes when women are mean and degrade him, that's his business.

He sits still, moving only when told by the woman in the chair who's now playing on her phone.

He stares at her intently, glares at the phone occasionally. The doctor finishes quickly, grateful that the infection was only in its earliest of stages.

“Okay so I'm prescribing a round of antibiotics, I noticed that you have an allergy to penicillin so I'm giving you doxycycline." She writes the perscriptipn down quickly, grabs a bottle stocked preemptively for cases like this.

"Take it with a meal twice a day every 12 hours until the bottle is empty. Come back within a few days just to make sure it's progressing and then again when the bottle is empty.” She types in a quick series of notes notating the lieutenants upcoming appointments.

“He'll be here. I'll make sure of it” there's a bitter edge to the woman's words, the doctor wonders how anyone could stand to be with someone so angry.

“God I hope you do” ghost groans out, threat either going over his head or straight to his crotch.

The doctor flinches, forgetting the lieutenant capable of speech.

“Well thanks for the help. I'll be getting him back to his captain.” the woman hops up and walks towards the door.

“Oh uh, have a g-good one!”

She smiles politely, drops it quickly when she eyes the once again silent wraith behind her

“Let's go, it would be rude to make your captain wait.”

He nods and follows along after her, like a deformed elongated shadow.

An odd couple, the doctor muses. But not the oddest she's seen. Not even the weirdest.

Another soldier bursts in, she hears the words ‘snake bite’ and ‘penis’, wishes she was stuck back with the ghost and his guide.

—-------

“You alright then, lieutenant? Everything sorted?”

“Affirmative sir. I've got the prescription, doc cleaned me up and changed my bandage. “

“Good. Thank you for coming, Doll.”

“He only acts like this because you let him, you know.”

“I do. But sometimes it's easier to go along the path of least resistance. Trying to argue with a stubborn mut, or handle the fury of his actual commanding officer? I'll take you anyday love.” He finishes with a purr, noting the sudden tenseness in Ghosts shoulders.

“Careful, might put thoughts in a girl's head if you keep talking like that.” She notices too, but eggs the poor lieutenant on - smile a touch cruel.

“Oh? That all it takes? Not a fan of Mactavish then?” semi-joking now. He'd be a liar if he said having a pretty woman snark up at him didn't effect him at all.

“Prefer waking up with mouthful of English breakfast personally. Speaking of-” She turns towards ghost, her face still cold and indifferent as always.

“I'll be in your room. I'll only be here another hour and then I'm gone. Why don't you see if your captain can find it in his heart to dismiss you early”

She smiles something sharp and sinful, takes off in a run that makes Ghost body jolt - he looks like a junkyard dog choking himself on the end of his lead trying to get a bone just out of reach.

“Captain. May I be dismissed.”

“Well-”

“Captain.”

“Simon”

“Captain price, may I please be dismissed, sir”

There's a desperate edge john isn't used to. Something rabid, something hungry. A darkness kept caged wriggling through iron bars.

“dismissed, lieutenant “

The ghost breaks off into a sprint, and the hunt is on. Price can't think too much about how it ends, his trousers already too tight at his twinge of interest.

Similar shades of fucked up, the both of them.

—----

He's panting in your ear, groaning as his hips slap against and bruise your ass.

“fu-fuck. Come on, give it to me. Show me you're- fuck! Show me you're worth all the fuckin trouble - Oh god, simon!” You can't help but scream, hope he doesn't have neighbors.

His pace is mind-numbingly good, making up for the dry start in the beginning. Prepped just enough to fit him but not enough for the ache to be avoided. But he knows your body thoroughly , and with a few well aimed thrusts and a circles of your clit you're dripping down your own AND his thighs.

A mess on his bedsheets - he thinks of it as a present for later, you think you spoil him.

He fucks you like an animal, unhinged and hurried- like he's worried you'll get up and leave, worried you'll realize he's not worth the trouble.

He pins you further under his weight and changes the angle - groans at your wail of ecstasy .

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! You - you better not pull this shit again. I - I let you keep this fuckin job -please don't stop- let you play hero but -oh god, oh god - but don't-”

You gasp, moan something pained and drawn out as you come again along his rigid cock - muffling a scream into his pillow as he grinds up into the sensitive spots in your cunt to draw your orgasm out further.

“k-keep this shit up toy soldier, see how quick I put you back in the box!” You snarl , glaring at him over your shoulder. He groans deep and slams as deep as he can, unloading against the deepest parts of your hole.

He's still hard when he slips from you, wrangling you onto your back before slipping back in. Your legs fit nicely on his shoulders, and you're grateful for your flexibility.

You scoff. “can't cum lookin at a skull , switch to another one or take it off - might have a chance of getting me off then” you wonder how mean he'll be, wonder if he'll actually stop to find a different mask.

Dont have wonder long as he's quick to throw the whole thing off. The black grease around his eyes is streaked from the sweat - hair plastered to his forhead. He looks happy to see you.

“not - not bad! Might be worth all this after- after-after!” You buffer aloud. Like a skipping record, you'd be humiliated if it didn't feel as good as it does.

In fact. You should be mad at his constant interruptions, but he's persistent on fucking through your cunt and into your brain.

“Tell me. Tell me dolly. Tell me sweet heart. I'm worth the trouble, yeah? I'm your trouble right? Gonna keep coming back, keep coming on my cock?” He says it like he doesn't exist somewhere in your rib cage nearest to your heart. Like you don't already live in his.

“Yes, yes!” You promise, the one you will die before you break.

“Yes what?" He implores, a steady chant of 'keep me, keep me, keep me' running through his head.

“To all of it you fuck! Yes! All mine, my cock, my headache, my brute - fuck!” your own mind proclaiming that you'll keep him 'forever, forever, forever"

You're crying now, overstimulated tears as your thighs quiver on his shoulders.

“Yeah. Yeah. All yours, n' you're mine. All fuckin mine. Not Prices and not fuckin Johnnys” he snarls, bitter and possessive.

“Gotta act up, gotta cause a mess. Can't get you here otherwise. “ he continues, pace consistent to further along your impending ruin.

It's getting hard to keep up with the banter. Hate how he's still capable of talking while you're becoming goo.

“J-just fuckin wait till you're off deployment! Fuck!”

“Nu-uh, get too tight n mean when I do. Have to drag you here to give you your fix so you're sweet when I get home. You're my sweet girl right?” He coos mockingly.

You don't respond. too busy clawing red ribbons into his back.

“Right?” He punches your cervix now, enough to make you choke and bite into the meat of his shoulder.

You bite hard. Harder when he moans. You lick at the indents and nose into the hammering pulse at his neck.

You can tells he's close with how his tempo gets thrown off, how his huffs louder. Having forgiven him for making you drive all this way, you give the dog a well earned bone.

“Yours, your sweet girl. You just need to work for it a bit hm? You don't mind huh big guy? My big guy?” You whisper into his ear, whine into it in a way you know drives him crazy.

He comes with a shout, one you know the whole fucking base heard. You're too fucked out to care much, especially when the brute lakes down and settles his weight on you with a contented sigh.

He hums, a touch demanding and you roll your eyes. You rub a hand gently up and down his torn back, scratching gently at his scalp to feel his heavy sigh of contentment.

“You gonna take care of yourself now? Got everything out your system?”

He hums, tone non-committal - fucker. As long as price has your number, as long as the ghost stays restless - you'll be called in eventually. Not a matter of 'if', but 'when".

Thankfully you don't mind being the nuclear option. Not much anyway. Especially if this is what it gets you. A moment of peace, skin pressed against skin - soft breaths evening out against your collarbone.

'Yea', you think. 'He's worth the trouble.'

(End notes: the thump that was heard was actually Simon falling to his knees. Dude goes from 0-100 when it comes to love so he either ghosts(hehe) you or worships you.)

[blueraineshadows]

Sebastian Sallow 🔺️ F!MC 🔺️Leander Prewett

Chapter 12 - Tangled

Tags: NSFW / PTSD / Angst / Violence / Blood / Dark Wizards /

Chapter Master List and Ao3

Chapter Twelve: Tangled

MC

When it came to dramatics, Rookwood had the flair for being unfailingly civilised whilst delicately peeling the skin from your back with his icy words. Dressed like a true English gentleman, there was not a speck of dirt on his coat, his top hat carefully balanced atop his head, his hands clean despite the dirty work being attended to. Rookwood had no need to accumulate grime under his fingernails, or risk a stain on his fine waistcoat when he had lackeys all too eager to do the manual labour for him.

The young man on his knees in the middle of the prisoner tent was sobbing. His hair was a mess, filthy and limp, the skin of his hands and feet black with dirt, his clothing rumpled from several days in lock up. Saliva and blood trickled from his mouth, dripping from his chin to stain his trousers as he tried to choke back the croaky sobs. He shook as he tried to keep his head up, but another booted foot slammed into his ribs and sent him sprawling across the packed dirt floor of the tent.

Rookwood grimaced as though disgusted, throwing a look up at the faded cloth of the tent roof and sighing. “It’s such a shame that it must come to this,” he mused, shaking his head, his tone borderline sympathetic as he looked down at the pitiful sight. “I consider myself a fair man. I treat you well here. There is food to eat, whores to rut with, and a place to rest your head, and yet…and yet, you still betray me.”

To the rear of the tent, MC felt herself stiffen as she watched the scene unfold before her, sick to her stomach at how Rookwood truly believed himself to be some kind of saviour to these Ashwinder followers. Most of them came from troubled backgrounds, seeking a place to belong, and following a darker path because there were no other options for them. The few days she had spent in this Ashwinder camp had brought forth memories of long days in the orphanage, the hollow eyes of hungry children in those dark winter months. Little to live for, and yet you fought to hang on to every moment. It was every man for himself despite the appearances of this being some kind of “family”. 

This was no family. 

The man delivering the kicking was the camp Executioner. A man-mountain with a mask covering the lower half of his face, his eyes cold and brutal as they peered above the cloth. His arms were thicker than MC’s legs, his neck solid, and his feet deadly when aimed at one’s ribs. The man on the floor was clutching his side, his breath wheezing dangerously as blood trickled from the side of his mouth. The glitter of eyes above the mask were those of a predator, the scent of fear and blood inside the tent was palpable, and yet it seemed to rile up those present. Aside from her.

Glancing sideways, she caught the eye of Sebastian, his look dark and brooding as he stood with his arms folded. He met her gaze with the merest hint of a headshake, warning her to keep her mouth closed. It was safer that way, he would say, not wanting her to risk any more attention than she already received from the other camp members. Despite their efforts to maintain an outward appearance of distance between them, Sebastian was still the over protective menace he always had been.

Rookwood paced the floor, slow and deliberate, his forefinger and thumb gently caressing the neatly trimmed salt and pepper beard on his chin. “It is not respectful to bite the hand that feeds you, boy,” he said icily, his eyes like flint in the glow of the lamp. “Let this be a lesson learned. One more toe out of line, and I won’t be so gracious next time.”

The young man merely sobbed and wheezed, barely able to nod his agreement as he tried to get back up onto his knees. Even now, his eyes were turned to Rookwood with pleading, trying to gain some ground by almost worshipping at his feet. MC had to turn her head away from it all, fixing her gaze on the entrance of the holding tent, ignoring the chains and table laden with instruments of pain. 

Footsteps approached her, the delicate scent of cologne reaching her nose as fingers  gently took hold of her chin. Resisting the urge to flinch, MC let the hand turn her head back to the room, meeting a pair of cold, blue eyes. Eyes she had thought closed forever by her own hand.

“Come now, sweet one,” Rookwood said, smiling as though this was some kind of social tea party. “That’s enough drama for one evening, wouldn’t you say? Time for us to have that proper chat I’ve been promising you. Shall we?”

He offered out his arm, the very image of genteel behaviour, whilst his eyes sent shards of ice down her spine. MC swallowed hard and kept her chin lifted, maintaining a cool expression as she nodded. Hating every moment of this, she put her hand into the crook of Rookwood’s elbow, her eyes daring to glance towards Sebastian once more as she was led towards the tent entrance.

A muscle was twitching in Sebastian’s jaw, his eyes ablaze with barely contained aggravation as he had no choice but to watch her being led away. In the brief seconds they had eye contact, she could feel his frustration, and tried to convey her reassurance. It was all part of the plan, it was all game play. She had to be the epitome of willing and pliable in order to fool Rookwood. She could do this.

The cool, night air hit her cheeks, the freshness of it soothing after the stench of the tent. Rookwood led her across the camp, past fires and gang members huddled under thick cloaks, whilst a cold moon looked down upon on them.

“I hope you find your accommodations here with us suitable, MC,” Rookwood said, strolling along with ease. He flashed a suave smile. “Although, I am sure anything beats the comforts of Azkaban. Our humble tents must feel like palaces in comparison.”

A pallet on the floor of a tent shared with a female Ashwinder who snored louder than a Graphorn could hardly be described as luxury, but she managed a smile in return nonetheless. “I manage just fine, thank you.”

“No trouble from other campmates?” He asked, one eyebrow raised. “I call us a family, however I am not so much of a fool to believe that bad behaviour won’t take place. The disappointing scene in the tent just now merely proves my point.”

“I can handle myself,” she said firmly, her face hardening.

Rookwood’s smile dripped with cold delight. “Oh, I know, sweet one. I know. I also know that despite your murdering little hands wiping out his uncle, Sallow seems rather taken with ensuring your safety. He was most keen to have you out of Azkaban, and assured me that I would be in need of his assistance should you choose to resist joining my crew. It’s a curious little set up we have here. It makes one wonder where loyalties truly lie.”

Arriving outside the larger, and far more elaborate tent that Rookwood used, MC fought the tight feeling in her chest as she maintained her careful indifference. 

“I’m loyal to myself,” she said, the words falling from her mouth with surprising ease. When she met his cold, enquiring eyes, she didn’t flinch. “When you spend years alone in a prison cell, you have plenty of opportunity to think. I’ve been let down all my life, and I’m not about to expect anything different any time soon. Sallow is one of those who let me down. If he wants my loyalty, he will need to earn it, just like everyone else.”

Rookwood narrowed his eyes as he studied her. “You are a cold little thing, aren’t you?”

MC shrugged and took her hand from his arm, stepping away from him, and her face remained hard. “Can you blame me? Even you need to prove that this is worth my time. You know better than anyone how easily I could wipe you off the very ground you stand upon. I could have this camp ablaze in seconds, and there is nothing you can do to stop it. I’m here because I choose to be. Now, what’s it worth?”

His smile was slow, the greed in his eyes shining brighter than the moon above their heads. His chuckle was low and dark as he lifted the tent flap and gestured for her to enter. “You are delightful. Please, do come in. We have things to discuss.”

Enchanted to be a most luxurious and stately residence, Rookwood’s tent was like a home from home with all the comforts one could wish for. He strolled in and gestured towards a chair decorated with lovely wooden scrollwork, the cushioned seat plush and inviting. MC sat, her back straight, her hands placed loosely on her lap where they were in close proximity to the wand strapped on one thigh, and a silver dagger on the other.

“You know, I remember you when you were a slip of a girl in her Hogwarts robes, sipping butterbeers in Sirona’s bar. It was quite the wholesome little scene,” Rookwood said, casually fetching a wooden chest from a sideboard and carrying it towards the table where she sat. “You are still a slip of a girl, but not so much of the wholesome anymore, hmm? A cold blooded murderer, and an ex-convict. I wonder if those charming townsfolk would still be so quick to jump to your aid these days.”

His eyes were knowing as he brushed back her hair to reveal the prisoner number tattoo on her neck. A shiver swept over her and she glared at him. Did she not shove those very fears deep inside of herself every day? 

“I knew nothing about the power I had back then. Things are different now. I can take care of myself.” In trying to maintain control, her words sounded brittle to her own ears, her mouth tight and almost grim. 

“Indeed,” he smiled, opening the chest on the table with a flick of his wand. He reached in and pulled out some scrolls, the parchment yellowed and faded. “This ancient power you possess is quite remarkable. After seeing it first hand, I was rather intrigued to say the least. After everything with Ranrok, I decided to keep things much closer to home this time around. Doing dirty work for goblins can leave a rather sour taste in the mouth, however, there are benefits to be reaped if you know where to look.”

He held up the scrolls and proceeded to open one with a flourish. 

“These I acquired from a ruined dwelling in Feldcroft, sacking the place for Ranrok in his search for those repositories. It was quite the adventure at the time, the locals having that same annoying wholesomeness as those in Hogsmeade. They came to try and stop us, but as you know, I’m not one to let people stand in my way.”

MC narrowed her eyes. As much as she felt deep bitterness towards Anne Sallow, it was still a terrible thing that happened to her. “I have heard the stories. Even cursing children doesn’t seem to be too much of a bother for you, just so long as you get your way. Children should be seen and not heard, right?”

“Absolutely,” he said, the flash of teeth sinister as he grinned. He leant to spread the parchment on the table top, a frown appearing on his brow. “I had to teach a rather annoying brat a lesson when I got my hands on these, actually. Quite the feisty thing, babbling on about taking things that didn’t belong. She tried to stop me, even dared to raise her wand at me, but I put a stop to that.”

MC stared at him, trying to picture a healthy and furious Anne and realised it wasn’t too hard to imagine. Like Sebastian, she had fight and stubbornness. MC had to be careful with her words here. Revealing that she knew the child he had cursed would open up questions she couldn’t answer. Not just because of the pact she had made with Sebastian, but for their own safety within the gang. After years of earning Rookwood’s trust, she couldn’t blow Sebastian’s cover for being here.

“How does one teach a child a lesson exactly?” She asked, tilting her head as though curious. In all honesty, she was curious. If she knew what Rookwood had done, it could help Sebastian find a cure. “Did you kill the child?”

“Not exactly,” he said, a smug smirk twisting his lips as he glanced at her. “A rather handy curse of my own design. No instant death for that little brat. No, a slow and painful one for her. I wonder if she is still suffering? Perhaps she thinks twice before crossing someone she shouldn’t these days.”

He had the audacity to laugh as he pondered these thoughts and MC felt her stomach twist with nausea, wondering how a man could so casually cause such trauma towards a child when he had a daughter of his own. Anne had not learnt her lesson, though, happily throwing MC into Azkaban to serve her own selfishness. It would appear she had not learned a lesson despite her pain, and MC found she could not hold on to her sympathy for long, her own blood crackling with vengeful desire.

“No cure for such a curse, then?” She asked, her gaze dropping to the parchment on the table. 

Rookwood gave her another sinister smile. “No cure. That’s the beauty of it. A curse of my own making, all those I have chosen to bear it will suffer until their death, or mine, and I have no plans to leave this mortal realm just yet.”

“You are quite the villain, aren’t you?” She said, and not in an impressed kind of way.

He laughed, loud and heartily. “Why, thank you.”

Of course, he took it as a compliment. Hardening her resolve even further, she gestured towards the parchment on the table. “So, what’s next in your twisted little games? I’m going to assume you need my help with it. Why else would you want me here?”

“Straight to the point. I like it,” he said, satisfaction gleaming in his smile. “This scroll belonged to Isadora Morganach. You and I both know the significance of this particular witch, so there will be no need for any pretending here. We also both know that Isadora spent a considerable amount of time researching your ancient magic, and this is what appeals to me. My family was involved with this power once, and I intend to continue that tradition. That’s where you come in, sweet one.”

MC knew this would be coming, Sebastian had warned her, and Rookwood had shown his hand all those years ago when he had snatched her from the street outside Ollivander’s. Swallowing tightly, MC leaned over to take a look at the parchment, recognising the inked hand of Isadora. It was, indeed, a part of her research, outlining the deposits of ancient magic that seemed to store themselves in locations scattered across the land. MC felt a sinking sensation as she read, anticipating where this was headed.

“You are interested in locating more deposits,” she said flatly, looking up at him.

So smug. The greed was sickening as he smiled at her. “You catch on quick, sweet one,” he nodded. “You’re the only one who can see these deposits, and once absorbed, they will increase your capabilities. Imagine the power you could possess, the deeds you could achieve.”

“I am fully aware of these deposits and what it could mean, Rookwood,” she said, shrugging. “I have come across them before around the Highlands. I fail to see how this benefits you, though.”

His eyes narrowed. “With your power, and my connections, imagine the team we could be. Greatness, MC. Who could stand against us?”

“Us? You want me to work for you?” She needed to hear him spell it out, let him spill his lies whilst he aimed to collect her like one of his relics.

“With me, MC. I wish for us to work together,” he said smoothly, placing his hand against his chest as though this was heartfelt. It sickened her stomach. “Together, we could build something truly remarkable. I would fulfil a birthright, standing beside you, a pillar of strength that would see you reach your full potential, and therefore, claiming your own birthright. Do you not wish to finish what Isadora began? Together, we could finish her research, delve even deeper into what this magic could mean, push the boundaries out and achieve greatness. Does that not sound like something that could fulfil you? Claim back what you deserve, MC. After the darkness of Azkaban, this could be your light.”

The silence of the tent seemed to press in upon her, heavy with the weight of his words that were spoken with only his own selfish intent in mind, and yet the temptation of what he implied was undeniably tangible. It almost brought tears to her eyes how he was cleverly appealing to what she truly did desire, her own redemption in a way, a path to walk that would finally give her the sense of belonging she craved.

The gut punch of it all came when faced with the darker agenda he had planned, to build her up only to tear it all away from her and claim it as his own. A truly twisted game that he had every intention of winning. But, he couldn’t win. She wouldn’t let him. She had to play the game harder and slicker than him, draw on everything she had learned in order to survive, and she wouldn’t do it alone. 

Knowing that she had Sebastian standing at her side helped to keep the steel in her spine as she stared at Rookwood, even if Sebastian, too, had his own selfish reasons to help her, she knew he would have her back, just as he always had. There was also the knowledge that she had the British Auror Office in the wings, her very own Auror waiting for her in London who had already proved just how far he would go to help her. Despite feeling like she didn’t deserve it, she was grateful to have Leander in her life. She only hoped she could pay his loyalty back and pull this off.

“You paint a pretty picture, Rookwood,” she said, tilting her head, considering him. “I won’t deny the appeal of it. But, I’m not so foolish as to trust you. You have form, something you don’t even deny.”

He gave a nod, a pretty image of respect that didn’t do anything to make her think he meant it. His showmanship was a smoke screen she saw through well enough. “Is it not enough that you would hold all the power? As you so rightly said, you could end it all with one flick of your wand, and I would be useless against such a display. I merely intend to be at your side, a guiding hand if you will. My Ashwinders will be of assistance whilst you seek out these deposits and uncover your potential. Your guardian army, you might say.”

He was a dreamer, a man who aimed high, and believed he could get there by using any means necessary. Not to take anything away from his cunning, and his clear skill at leading people, but MC suspected there was a weakness in there to press on. His greed and desire for greatness could be his undoing, his ego something to be stroked. Her barriers were firmly in place, but her mouth smiled at him as she touched her hand to Isadora’s research paper.

“Then I guess I have some reading to do,” she said, keeping her tone carefully neutral. “I don’t see the harm in seeing where this could lead. I might have some requests, though.”

“What do you need?” He asked, holding out his arms as though he could grant her any wish. 

“If we are going to hunt down these deposits, then Sallow comes with me. He aided me as a girl, we work well together, and he has experience in helping me with my magic.”

“Is that so?” Rookwood’s eyes narrowed slightly. “And you think he can be trusted with this?”

She summoned every scrap of determination she could muster as she made her voice cold and seemingly uncaring, whilst her blood burned to utter such words. “He knows if he betrays me I could wipe him from existence, just as I did his uncle. He will help me. He is almost as enamoured by my magic as you are, he won’t be able to resist it.”

Rookwood’s look was calculating as he studied her, his fingers stroking at his beard. “Imagine how different life could have been if you had taken this opportunity when I had offered it to you outside Ollivander’s that day, the deaths that could have been avoided, a prison sentence not served, the greatness you could have achieved already.”

His words hit like blows to the gut, and she fought the urge to cower against the breathtaking twist of grief that slammed into her chest as she thought of Professor Fig fading in her arms under the school. Guilt was cold and cruel, no forgiveness great enough to appease the horror of that moment, something she struggled with day by day. She fixed her gaze on the parchment, the words blurring through the haze that descended over her eyes as she fought to keep control of her emotions. The wounded dark of her heart threatened to spill forth, but she choked it back, blinking furiously as she focused on each breath, in and out, clinging to calm.

Her choices had been her own, and she had tried to avoid the temptation of darkness, but the fear that a piece of it lingered within scraped tempting claws through her soul. It whispered to her, weaving the spell of temptation and calling her home. It was in her blood. It was her birthright, was it not? 

No. There was always a choice. Ominis was her proof of that and she held it tight, close to her chest. She had the power to make her own choices.

Stiffening her spine, she turned hard eyes towards Rookwood. “I guess it all comes down to timing. That, or, everything happens precisely when it means to, regardless of how dark things may be.”

“You believe in fate?”

“We live in a world of magic,” she said, lifting her eyebrows at him. “I’ve learned to accept that anything is possible. Now, let’s see if we can’t find a starting point for our search, shall we?”

….*….

The night held a chill that seeped into your bones, the camp mostly quiet, guards posted at the borders keeping watch for any sign of trouble as the rest of the Ashwinders sought rest or sustenance. MC sat huddled on her straw pallet, a cloak wrapped around her despite the casting of a warming charm, her tent companion snoring loudly beside her. Surrounded by people, the loneliness held a stealthy position at her shoulder, the weariness of having to mask her truth bearing down upon her.

Agreeing to walk willingly into Rookwood’s trap had set a course she needed to hold despite every instinct telling her to run. It was a dangerous game, but it held promise. Rookwood had been right about one thing. Her truth, her power, it was all connected to Isadora, and any evidence gathered was another step towards discovering who she was. MC had to snatch every opportunity that came her way, even if that meant dancing with the devil for a time.

Feeling the pinch of the lonesome darkness, she retrieved her secret parchment and laid it flat against a book, tapping her wand to the blank paper but revealing no new words. Swallowing down the disappointment, she felt that warmth she had shared with Leander slipping further into the shadows. His contact had been brief and polite for the last few days, words seemingly professional and distant, a mere touching base that covered her required check in with Aurors and nothing more. The wrench of missing him cut a fresh scar in that soft part of her she hid away, and even though it was for the best, she couldn’t help but grieve for what she was allowing to slip through her fingers. She, too, had been withdrawing away from him, and it had proved harder than she had expected. 

The urge to see him swelled to the point that she was reaching for her quill, summoning the words to send off to him, a craving to see the warmth of his honey brown eyes making her bite her lip as she began to write. Whilst keeping her words as professional as he had set the tone for, she suggested a face to face report, an opportunity to look upon him once more before setting off in search of ancient magic deposits. Tapping her wand to the page, she watched the ink fade and vanish, knowing he was unlikely to see it until tomorrow. She imagined him safe and sleeping in his bed at his flat, drawing comfort from the image, a soft smile curving her lips. She couldn’t help but cling to the life line he had thrown her way after pulling her out of the frigid dark.

Putting her quill and parchment away, MC eyed the lumpy pillow and shifted on her hard mattress, missing the soft warmth of Leander’s bed. Perhaps it was a step up from the stone ledge of prison, but the snoring beast of her companion took away the peace and privacy, and she doubted sleep would deign to visit her tonight. Sighing, she clambered up and out of the tent, pulling her cloak around herself as she stepped out under a star sprinkled sky. Looking up she breathed in the crisp night air, filling her lungs with mountain breeze, camp fires and woodland. The promise of freedom lingered in that scent, but she was just as chained as ever, bound to a fate that could have been laid out before she had even entered this world. 

Putting one foot in front of the other, she focused on the promise of being able to make her own choices, lost in her own head as she came across a dark figure in the shadows. Halting immediately, her hand hovering near her wand holster, she remained poised as Rosier stepped towards her. He was so very handsome, his smile designed to lure in unsuspecting souls for sure. She relaxed her hand, but left it hanging loose near her thigh, nodding in greeting.

“If it isn’t our chosen one,” he said softly. “Where are you slipping off to at this time of night?”

“The usual,” she shrugged. “Always assume I’m up to no good, it avoids disappointment.”

He chuckled and nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind. Want some company whilst you raise mischief and mayhem?”

“A tempting offer, but one I must decline,” she said, pouting her lips in an image of regret.

“Of course,” he smirked, slipping his hands into his pockets and nodding towards a tent at the other end of camp. “He’s alone in there. I will be gone for a few hours. Make the most of it, darling. Go make mischief.”

Pulling her gaze from the tent Rosier shared with Sebastian, MC stared at him, the knowing glint in his eyes making her stiffen slightly. “Make the most of what, may I ask?”

He smirked and moved to step away. “When eyes speak as yours do, there is no need for words. Don’t worry, my lips are sealed. Sebastian is a good man, one of the best in this shit hole. He has been good to me. I won’t betray him.”

MC stared at him, keeping her silence as she shivered under her cloak. What did her eyes reveal? Had her mask slipped enough for others to see her truth, too? Turning her gaze back to Sebastian’s tent, the danger that hung over their heads felt like strings pulling them in every direction with no escape. So much for that freedom.

Rosier paused, turning back to her, his hand touching lightly to her elbow and making her face him once more. “Oh, and be careful,” he murmured in a low tone. “Luella. Don’t make the mistake of underestimating her. Don’t turn your back for a moment. Understand?”

MC nodded, her throat tightening as he brushed the pad of his thumb across her arm, that alluring smile soft on his face as he turned and walked away from her, vanishing into the night as though he had never even been there at all.

Of course, her feet led her to Sebastian’s tent, no matter how many times she told herself that she needed more time, that he needed to prove that he was worth the wait, she returned to him regardless. Lingering at the entrance, she debated the wisdom of going inside. Ever since they had slept in the cottage at Feldcroft, she had kept a reasonable distance between them, offering up the illusion that they were acquainted before the other camp dwellers and nothing more, whilst in reality their blood sung for each other in a way only they could understand. It led her here to his presence, answering a call that appeared primal and basic in its instincts.

Lifting the flap of the tent, MC stepped inside, the interior lit with a single lamp. Two bunks on either side, a chest, and a battered wash stand provided minimal comfort. It was basic and threadbare, but she could feel the warmth of magic lending it a far cosier feel than appearances would suggest. Sprawled on the far bunk, his nose in a book, Sebastian appeared relaxed, his hair a tumbled mess and his shirt open at his throat. Jacket and waistcoat were discarded, and an empty bottle of butterbeer sat on the floor by a stack of books. He glanced up as she entered, sitting up immediately at the sight of her, snapping the book shut with a warm smile.

Oh, how that smile seemed to chase the loneliness that persisted at her shoulder, pushing back the shadows that reached with long arms in their efforts to conceal her.

“Am I disturbing you?” She asked softly, glancing over her shoulder to ensure the tent flap was closed behind her. “I checked nobody was nearby before entering.”

“You’re always welcome,” he said, reaching for his wand. He cast a silencing charm, warding the tent to avoid any eavesdropping before beckoning to her. “Come in, take a seat.”

He patted the bed bunk, smoothing the rumpled blanket as he shifted to make room for her. MC unclipped her cloak, pulling it free from her shoulders as she moved to sit. His eyes never left her as she got comfortable, a softness lingering around his mouth. It wasn’t the look of a violent Ashwinder, just the boy she had once known.

“What were you reading?” She asked, gesturing towards the book he had abandoned.

“Tales of King Arthur and the Round Table,” he said, picking it up and handing it to her. “I wanted to refresh my memory on what Muggles had written about Merlin. They do love to embellish their legends. Their ideas about magic are rather amusing compared to the real thing, however, some of their words hit a little too close to home sometimes.”

MC smoothed her fingers over the book cover, absently following the embossed title. “What prompted the idea to read about Merlin?”

“You, of course,” he smiled. “Or rather, your ancient magic. Do you remember helping that witch, Nora Treadwood? She published her research on Merlin and I read a copy recently, intrigued by the possibility that Merlin could have been a host of ancient magic. Those trials we completed in the Highlands seemed to come naturally to you. I thought it might be worth reading up on it all.”

She couldn’t stop her smile as she looked at him. It hadn’t been a lie to request his presence at her side in order to help her seek out ancient magic deposits. His enquiring mind and ability to maintain vast amounts of knowledge were invaluable. It came easy to admire him for it, and she knew he was wasted here in this camp of criminals. He should be working for the Ministry, or teaching as a Professor somewhere, not thieving and committing acts of brutality.

“Did you learn anything interesting?” She asked, flipping the book open to a rather colourful illustration that caught her eye.

Sebastian leaned closer, peering down at the open pages. “The character Morgana is of particular interest I think. She is presented as an apprentice to Merlin, and then a villain. Some have suggested she was a lover, perhaps, but she is always cunning and powerful. I’d bet a few galleons that she was a Slytherin.”

Their eyes met, that inexplicable tension crackling between them. “Maybe she was. Perhaps she slept in the same dormitory as me. It’s strange to think of it.”

MC looked down at the artwork in the book, the robed drawing of Morgana seemed oddly familiar and she couldn’t place why. She had not seen this book before, she was sure. When she had read the legends of King Arthur, her copy had been a rather battered version she had smuggled into the orphanage, and she didn’t recall any artwork inside. 

“Not that strange,” Sebastian murmured, looking thoughtful. “Some of the greatest witches and wizards of our world walked the halls of Hogwarts. What I would give to be able to sneak into the restricted section of the library one more time. I bet there would be something down there about her worth reading, something hidden from the muggle world.”

MC bit her lip, her finger tracing the artwork of the legend herself in the book. Her next words could potentially start something she might regret, breach a trust that had been placed upon her in order to help her, but it could also further her quest for more information. Looking at Sebastian now, the temptation to utilise that brilliant brain of his was so strong, that she was speaking before she could change her mind.

“What if I told you that I could do one better than the library at Hogwarts?” She said, lifting her eyebrows and fighting back a smile at the spark of interest in his gaze. “What if I told you that I had someone doing a little digging in the Ministry archives on my behalf? I could whisper Morgana’s name in his ear and see what turns up?”

“Who would do that for you? Not Prewett, surely?” 

“No, not Leander,” she shook her head. “But, I’m not going to name who it is and risk him being caught out. He is doing me a huge favour gathering information at the risk of his own neck. I’m not going to unleash the chaos that is Sebastian Sallow on to him for his trouble.”

“I am not chaos,” Sebastian scowled, puffing out his chest indignantly.

She smothered a chuckle, recalling the similar jest Ominis had made at their last meeting, and nudged her shoulder into him. “I beg to differ.”

His lips twitched and he huffed with amusement, his fingers gently encircling her wrist, his thumb tracing a slow circle over her pulse point. “I’ve missed this,” he whispered. His brown eyes lifted to meet her gaze, the warmth in them seemingly boundless and undeniably alluring. “I’ve missed you.”

Her chest swelled with an ache so fierce she had to catch her breath for a moment, staring into his eyes and knowing without doubt that she had missed him too, missed these chats and picking each other's minds about things. Such simplicity, but it meant so much.

“You know, it was moments like this that kept me sane in that place,” she said, her voice a little hoarse. “When the cold and dark felt like it might swallow me whole, I would allow myself to think about times we had spent together, just doing silly things like studying, or walking around the Black Lake at the weekends. Thinking of you chased back the darkness for a moment, but then I would have to suppress all thought of you, hide you away in my most secret, put away heart so that the Dementors couldn’t steal all trace of you from my mind. They were drawn to any happy thought, and I think I might have died if they had taken you from me.”

Fighting back her own tears, it made her stomach twist to see his eyes burn with his own sadness, the devastated look on his face painful to witness. He cupped the back of her neck, pulling her closer so that their foreheads touched. “I can never repay the debt that I owe you,” he said, his voice pained. “You should never have been sent to Azkaban in the first place, and I will never forgive myself for it. Hearing what you had to endure in there…”

He squeezed his eyes shut, unable to finish his sentence, his grip on her neck tightening. “I’m so sorry.”

They were words she needed to hear, and she did believe him. She had seen him at his most vulnerable, held him at his lowest points, and she did not imagine for one moment that this was anything but genuine regret. It might not make up for what she had lost, or take away any of the horror that she had suffered, but it did ease some of the ache in her chest to hear him say it. Lifting a hand to his cheek, she soothed him with a gentle caress, trying to show him that she appreciated what he was saying to her because words would not come past the tightness in her throat.

He opened his eyes, his head still leaning against her as he stared, gaining some control over his emotions. “I thought about what you said,” he began, his fingers trailing down her neck and back up again. “You said the pact that we made held you just as captive as your cell did, and you were right. I never intended to trap you with it. I just wanted us to never feel lonely again, to always know that we had each other no matter what. I hate that it only managed to keep us apart for so long, trapped by its bond, you were forced to remain in darkness or die. That’s not what I wanted, not at all.”

“I was angry when I said that,” she said, stroking back his hair. “Yes, I was bound by it, but I also clung to that bond whilst I was in there. It was my only link to the outside world. Knowing we were bonded meant that I wouldn’t be forgotten, although I did used to wonder if you had moved on with your life without me. I could only hope that you would be waiting on the day of my release. It’s what made finding out about Luella so gut wrenching.”

“I never moved on,” he said vehemently, holding her head so that she was angled perfectly to look at him, his eyes ablaze with emotion. “I could never move on. I was always waiting for you to come back to me. I held on to that bond, too.”

He shifted, digging into his pocket to pull out the amulet, the delicate silver charm encasing the blood red stone of their spell. He held it up between them, the lamp light catching the stone and making it shimmer to life. 

“I would look at this every night, terrified that I would forget your face,” he said, smoothing his thumb over the stone. “This means something, MC. It will always mean something. I am yours, and you are mine.”

Slowly, MC touched her fingers to the stone, remembering vividly the way their blood had entwined and solidified to create it in the flickering candlelight of the Undercroft. Too young for marriage, they had turned to darker magic to pledge themselves to each other. Their youth had perhaps impacted on their choice of words, rendering them so bound to each other that it had trapped them. In another way, they had perhaps not linked themselves deep enough. Despite this pact, they had both taken another lover, given themselves to someone else when that shouldn’t have been possible. When you’re young, you don’t even consider the consequences, or anticipate extreme circumstances, you just rush headlong in with passion and the strength of will that comes with youth.

“I am yours, and you are mine,” she repeated softly, testing the feel of those words on her tongue.

A hopeful smile curved Sebastian’s mouth as their fingers touched around the stone. “Turn around,” he said softly. She gave him a curious frown, but he merely let his smile widen as he motioned with a finger for her to do as he asked, holding up the amulet. 

She shifted on the bed, turning so that she had her back to him. Gently he gathered up her hair, and she helped him hold it up, shivering as he leant around her. His breath was warm as it fanned across her neck, his fingers fiddling with the amulet as he arranged it so that it lay over her collar bone. Closing her eyes, she felt the delicate brush of his fingers as he fastened the silver chain that held it, a soft sigh leaving her mouth as she felt the warmth of his lips at the back of her neck in a lingering kiss.

“I’ve been the sole guardian of our pact for too long,” he said, his mouth so dangerously close to her tingling flesh. “It’s your turn to take care of it now. Wear it, and remember how much you mean to me. Feel it against your skin, a reminder and a promise.”

“What kind of promise?” She asked, tilting her head as she held the amulet in her hand.

“My promise to you that I will never stop fighting for you,” he said, resting his face against the back of her neck, his breath hot and his lips teasing as he spoke. “You said you needed time, and you shall have it, but I will be here waiting for you. It will always be you, MC. Always.”

Her heart seemed to skip a beat, thudding hard against her ribs and stealing her breath. Turning to him, she met with his addictive gaze and he was unflinching, constant and set on his course. She let the amulet rest against her chest and his gaze dropped to it, his finger gently curling under the slender chain and dragging along the sensitive skin of her collar bone, making her breath catch in her throat.

“It looks good on you,” he whispered, a satisfied smile curving his lips.

“Thank you,” she murmured, still touching the amulet, the blood red stone warm under her fingertips. All too aware of how dangerously close they were, the scene intimate and loaded with tension, she wondered if perhaps it was too much, too soon. “It’s late. I should get back to my own tent, I suppose. You can get back to your reading.”

“Stay,” he said, a finger caressing under her chin. “You can make yourself comfortable while I read, just like we used to years ago. No pressure, no expectation. Just you and me.”

Once again, she found herself unable to say no, reluctant to return to that cold, uncomfortable tent and her snoring companion. With him settled back with his book, she curled up beside him, their bodies snuggled close on the narrow bunk, her head on his chest where the steady rhythm of his heart both soothed and comforted so close to her ear. He was warm and solid, his arm naturally draping about her waist as he began to read. 

Tomorrow loomed, and all the tomorrows that would come after, but for now she felt safe, the tension gradually easing from her chest as she lay there. They had lain together like this so many times, quite content in each other’s silence, and it was perhaps no surprise how easily they had resumed this closeness. Nothing was ever that simple, though, not really. But, she would take it, her hand curling into the fabric of his shirt as her eyelids grew heavy. Sleep had come to claim her after all, her mind embracing the darkness whilst she lay safe in the arms of a guardian. 

Leander

Pale sunlight filtered through the kitchen window and illuminated the parchment placed neatly on the table top. Delicate swirls of steam curled upwards from a freshly brewed tea, and the distant crash of Atlantic ocean waves stole the silence of the morning. Leander had arrived at Shell Cottage early, checking the property and taking the time to stroll the coast path to breathe in the clearer air. It was always good to escape the oppressive smog of London and refresh one's head. Everything here was as it should be, and yet the sense that things were all out of kilter clung annoyingly along his nerves.

There was a flutter of anticipation in his tummy as Leander allowed his gaze to lift once again to the ticking clock on the mantel. It kept good time, and mere minutes had passed since he had last checked, but the seconds appeared to drag on endlessly as he waited. It had been a few days since MC had left to seek out the Ashwinders, and whilst he had tortured himself with possible scenarios of what she could be doing in her absence, the bottom line remained the same. He missed her. 

In the short time they had spent in each other’s company, she had embedded herself so thoroughly into his life that it seemed a struggle to traverse the path of his days without her. No soft humming from the other room, the floral scent of her perfume was fading from his flat, and his bed had never felt so large and empty. There couldn’t be a clean break from her either, not unless he handed her case over to another Auror, and there was no chance of him wanting to do such a thing. It had become personal, no matter how many times he told himself that it couldn’t be. He had to continue, and the new information that Larson had managed to pull up were missing pieces in the history of what made MC such a unique witch. 

His long, freckled fingers touched to the file on the table beside him, handed to him only yesterday by Andrew. He had kept it tucked safely in his robe away from prying eyes. It exhausted him trying to be this double agent, working diligently to assist his fellow Aurors on the team, and yet keep secrets from them to help MC. Whilst dreams as a boy of thrilling adventures had seemed like the ideal way to live, actually having to experience such things was another matter entirely. 

But, would he stop?

Absolutely not. There was more to this, he could feel it. His instincts told him not to give up. Not on MC, and not on the case. 

The only other snag in the works was his enthusiastic partner, Ivy Montgomery. The new recruit had been accompanying him on all investigative outings, her sharp eye and quick thinking proving to be quite the asset. But, this meant that she would be astute enough to pick up on any details concerning MC should she be given the chance to get too close. Details that were far beyond the necessary realms of the case. Not only that, but after McKinnon’s betrayal, the wariness to trust again lingered.

Touching his fingers to his tie, he straightened it and swallowed, remembering how awkwardly he had to rebuff Montgomery's eager anticipation when she realised he would be meeting with MC today. She had looked up at him, her bright eyes keen, her cheeks pink from hurrying to catch up with him as he had left the office last night. It was out of the question to bring her to Shell Cottage, and he had put her off the meeting, suggesting she attend the next one instead. Her deflation had made him want to squirm, and he had sent her off to enquire after a lead on the missing Boleyn necklace today. A chance for her to work on something alone to appease the denial of meeting MC face to face.

He could understand the fascination, of course, the lure of the exceptional, the chance to sink her teeth into the heart of this case as a newly fledged Auror. Leander had taken the responsibility of MC’s covert role into his hands, and now felt a reluctance to let anyone else interfere. The mantra that this had nothing to do with the emotional attachment he felt towards MC seemed like a waste of energy, and yet he still foolishly told himself that it was the case. 

Had he not told MC that this was more than just a job? They had been his exact words. He carried the secret parchment they shared messages on within his pocket, and checked it regularly for any word from her. He was just being careful, of course. Her mission was a dangerous one, placing herself in the company of some of the most notorious people in the country. It would be remiss of him to not be vigilant. It was his responsibility to ensure her safety, and know of her whereabouts after all. These were the words he comforted himself with when he lay awake at night thinking about the softness of her lips, the way her eyes darkened in the candlelight…

Tapping fingers nervously on the table top, his leg bouncing under the table, he tried not to let his anxiousness take over. Fighting back his affections for her, he had tried to maintain a professional manner, his written communications with MC presented as polite and focused on the Ashwinders. Behind that, he ached to hear her voice, have her close, despite knowing it was futile to dwell on any dreams of more. It meant he would likely say something foolish, and the little time he had with MC couldn't be wasted on such things. 

Even so, when the crack of Apparation sounded from the living room, he was on his feet in an instant, the chair scraping back across the floor as he hurried towards the door. She turned towards him, her face pale and tired, her hair braided and her clothing dark. In one piece, and with no sign of injury, he felt some of the tension ease from his muscles. 

“Hello, Lee,” she smiled, her eyes captivating in the light flooding through the window. 

Where was his professionalism now? What use were his manners? Her smile, her warm gaze, her hands reaching out towards him, and he was across that room in a few strides. Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her close until he could feel every inch of her, the scent of clear air, wood smoke, and something else he couldn’t quite place, filling his nose. 

“MC. It is a relief to see you safe,” he said, his hand finding its way to cup the back of her neck. “How has it been, really? Are they treating you as well as we can hope?” 

“I am alright,” she replied, giving him a most welcome squeeze before slowly withdrawing. She placed her hands on his arms as she looked up at him. Such bravery she held firm on her face, that stoic way she had of keeping everything else tucked away. “The time spent within Ashwinder territory is useful despite the company I must keep. We knew it wouldn't be luxury, but I can manage. You should not worry about me.”

“I would find it easier to stop breathing, I am sure,” he said, his eyes drinking in the sight of her knowing time was short. 

“I would rather you remained breathing,” she said softly, her hands gripping his arm. A shadow passed across her pale face. “I don't ever wish to place you in danger. You must know that. It is regrettable that Sebastian knows that I lay with you, but when confronted with him, I am afraid that feelings and tempers got the better of us.”

“You fought with him over us?” Leander felt his chest tighten, trying to imagine how that would play out. Sebastian would not have taken that news well.

She glanced down at her left hand, fingertips touching her scar. How he detested that mark on her skin. “In a way, yes,” she said, making a fist. “Let's just say it was messy and ugly, but done now.” 

“What does that mean?” He frowned.

Her face became resolute, her chin lifting in that stubborn way of hers. “In order to move forward, to get this done, I need to face the reality that my fate and Sebastian’s are tangled up in ways I cannot begin to explain. I have to find peace with it, or lose my mind trying to fight it. It's complicated, but however things play out, I am bound to him, and him to me.” 

Leander dropped his gaze, that tight, sickening feeling beginning to swirl in his stomach as her words sunk in. It would always be Sebastian. No matter what. 

“But, I will not allow him to hurt you,” she said, her countenance softening as she touched a hand to his cheek. He lifted his eyes to meet hers, and found that warmth he had always craved from her. “He is angry, and jealous, but if he dares to cast at you, I will take whatever punishment the bond will throw at me to stop him.”

”There is no need for you to do that. Not for me. I can look after myself. I have been fighting against Sebastian for years.”

”I know,” she said, sighing. She shook her head, and winced. “I fear I may have made things worse between you both.”

“It was mutual consent, MC. It took the both of us to become intimate, and on more than one occasion,” he reminded her, his mouth curving in remembrance. His fingers had found their way to her jaw, caressing upwards to the softness of her cheek. “Don’t regret it, for I could never. Not with you, no matter the consequence.”

”Lee,” she whispered, her eyes turning glassy. She shook her head, her face shadowed as she caught hold of his wrist. He could see it in her eyes, she was withdrawing from the affection, throwing up her barriers. “You shouldn’t be saying such things.”

”Do you regret it?” His brow creased, that cold anxiousness clinging to him. Perhaps he was pushing her too hard, and perhaps he shouldn’t be saying such things, but his mouth always had a habit of speaking before thinking.

“No,” she replied immediately, shaking her head. Her gaze was resolute. “I don’t regret it.”

He waited, sensing the inevitable ‘but’ hanging between them. The haunted look she gave him ripped his heart a little, and he knew it would tear further with words she would speak. “I know,” he nodded sadly. His thumb ghosted her jaw, desperately trying to pretend to himself that this didn’t hurt. “It was never intended to be forever.”

Her lips parted as though to speak, but he couldn’t bring himself to hear the words. “No, don’t say it,” he begged. Leaning down, he pressed a soft kiss to those pretty lips, allowing himself the luxury of lingering there, filled with the familiar, aching longing, before withdrawing. 

“Lee, I’m sorry…” 

“It’s alright,” he said, cutting off her plea by touching his fingers to her mouth. He managed a smile as he stepped back away from her, that little tear in his chest pulling sharply at the sadness in her eyes. It would never be alright. 

“Come, I’ve made a pot of tea. I’m sure there is time for a cup as we talk. You can tell me about your meeting with Rookwood, and I have some information from Andrew about ancient magic. It probably throws up more questions than answers, but perhaps it will mean something to you.”

Sitting at the kitchen table, they turned the conversation towards the Ashwinders. He noticed her careful avoidance of mentioning Sebastian too often, but his shadow loomed over it all nonetheless. Hearing the plan to uncover deposits of ancient magic, Leander felt his concerns crowding in, his gaze taking in her small frame. She was stronger than she looked, but absorbing more power only for Rookwood to try and take it made him uneasy. 

“This is a trap, MC,” he said, resisting the urge to place his hand over hers. “There are so many things that could go wrong with this plan.” 

“It’s the best path we have right now,” she shrugged. “Plus, I really could learn more. If Rookwood has more of Isadora’s research, then I need to get my hands on it. Sebastian says that Rookwood is a collector, and he has stores of valuable artefacts and books. If I can discover where he hides this stuff, it would be like discovering a gold mine.” 

“You truly believe Rookwood will ever let you get that close?” He lifted an intrigued eyebrow.

She smiled. “I don’t really have much of a choice but to believe it. He is greedy, and he covets what I am. I let him think he can collect me, take what I want, and then we break him.” 

Her coldness sent a shiver down his spine. Her gaze turned towards the window, her jaw tightening as the shadow of her thoughts passed through her eyes. It still gave him pause to think of the horror she could be capable of, but he refused to accept that the hardness was all she could be. The Auror Office and the Daily Prophet painted her in such a cruel light, but he clung to his faith in that soft part of her she kept so carefully hidden away. He had seen it, he had slept beside it, had felt the flow of what her heart could offer. He just wished she would open herself up to what life could give her. What he could give her.

“Here, maybe this will help in your quest for answers.” He slid Andrew’s file towards her. “The Ministry archives are patchy when it comes to ancient magic. It would seem they either don't understand it fully, or they are covering a lot of it up. Andrew suspects that the Department of Mysteries has a hand in this, but he has no access to their files, and they would definitely refuse permission to look. Unspeakables are a unique breed. Professor Hecat being a prime example.” 

Leander couldn’t help the slight frown that creased his brow. Whilst Hecate was a capable and forthright tutor, he always thought she had a particular dislike for him. 

“I quite liked Professor Hecate,” MC said, her smile turning wistful for a moment, and chasing away that cold mask. “A conversation with her usually proved rather interesting.” 

“Teacher’s pet,” he grumbled, taking a sip of his tea.

MC smirked and picked up the file. “Thank Andrew for me, I know he takes risks to find this information,” she said. “If he hasn’t already, suggest that he look into Merlin regarding ancient magic. He had an apprentice named Morgana who might prove fruitful, too.”

Leander lifted his brows with interest. “Like in the tales of King Arthur? What made you think of that?”

A slight flush of pink coloured her cheeks, and her eyes dipped away. “Actually, it was Sebastian who brought it up.” 

“Of course it was.” His muttered words sounded bitter to his own ears. Getting to his feet, he collected their cups and placed them in the old sink, pulling out his wand to set them to wash. His jealousy threatened to overspill, and so resorting back to cool professionalism seemed the best option in order to maintain some control. “So, when do you want to make the next report? Will you manage to travel by Apparating, or would you prefer Floo points?”

He heard her get to her feet, but kept his back to the room, staring out towards the wide expanse of ocean through the window above the sink. If he looked at her he might crumble again, and that would only prolong the ache that lay heavy in his chest. He had to remain in control. He had to let it go.

“I will remain in constant touch with the parchment,” she said, her footsteps coming closer across the flagstone floor. “I know the terms stated a daily meeting, and I can manage it if you so wish, but I don’t want to make Rookwood suspicious should he be watching me. He already suspects something after I requested that Seb come along to help me search for deposits. He helped me back in our school days, and he has a wealth of knowledge I can make use of. Could we meet in a few days?”

He nodded, his face tight knowing that Sebastian would be a constant at her side. “Of course. Just send word via the parchment when you are ready, and I will meet you. Oh, and I should mention, it’s likely I won’t be alone. I have a new Auror with me for a while. She took McKinnon’s position, and I am showing her the ropes as they say.” 

“She? What’s her name?” Her tone was sharper, almost as though she disapproved.

Leander turned from the sink, moving the now clean cups to the draining board, pondering that thought. “Auror Montgomery. She is astute and bright, so I suggest we keep things strictly professional in her presence. I would rather she didn’t pick up on any over familiarity between us.”

The coolness of his words felt stiff and awkward on his lips. He hated this sense of detachment. It was a breaking, a chasm opening up between them, but his fingers couldn’t bear to loosen their grip. Unable to fully look at her, he moved back towards the table to gather up his notes and straighten his chair, careful to avoid brushing past her where she stood. His foot bumped the table leg clumsily, and he dropped a piece of parchment in his anxiousness, eager to tidy before leaving. 

“If you are that concerned, why can’t we continue to meet alone?” She asked. 

His fingers clenched around the handle of the tea pot, his gaze remaining averted as he turned to place it near the stove. He could feel the burn on his cheeks and knew he must appear flushed. “I’m not sure if that will be appropriate moving forward,” he said, swallowing hard. “You did warn me not to get too close, MC. That will be easier if we maintain a professional stance on things.”

“I really am sorry you know,” she said, her voice low and laced with regret. “I meant it when I said that I didn’t want to hurt you.” 

He couldn’t stand the idea of her pitying him, his teeth clenching at the bitter urge to cry. He really was a pathetic fool. Taking a steadying breath, he blinked a few times. 

“Like you said. You are bound to things in ways you can't explain,” he said, his words tight and weighed down with the weight of his loss. He looked at her at last. “I just hope he is worth this unfailing loyalty you hold for him, MC.”

She stared, her eyes wary as he turned to fully face her, stepping closer so that she needed to look up at him. The unspoken shadow of Sebastian cast over them constantly, and speaking of it was always risky. She bore the weight of Sallow as much as she bore the weight of her own trauma, and all the time that she did, there would never be room for anything else. It consumed, darkened any light he tried to bathe her in, and as much as he wanted her to accept it, she constantly held him at bay. He would have to be the one to break this thread that held them, but he didn’t have confidence in his ability to do it. How could he? His heart had other plans.

“You should know, that if you were to allow it, I would love you until the very end of existence,” he continued, his throat raw with the truth of it. “I would give you everything within my power to make you smile. I got you out of that dark cell where you were fading away. I couldn't bear seeing you in there, trapped in that gods forsaken place for something you didn't even do.”

Her face paled, her eyes darkening with a cold fear. She shook her head, and even took a step back. “What are you talking about?” 

“Don't say anything that's going to hurt you,” he said, shaking his head and grabbing her left wrist. He held up her hand, that vivid red slash on her palm so obnoxious against the paleness of her flesh. “Don't say a damned word to defend him, but I know, MC. The fear on your face at spilling the truth in that interrogation spoke louder than anything you could have said to me. This binding blood pact you made to him, it just sticks in my throat how much you defend Sebastian when he did absolutely nothing for you in return. Do you want to know what I think? I think he killed his own uncle, not you. Sallow always was a self-serving prick, as was his sister, and you would rather run back to him than take a chance to be happy for yourself.”

“Stop it,” she gasped, attempting to pull her arm free from his grip. She had gone deathly pale, the ghosts of her secrets stark in her eyes. It pained him to see it, but it ripped him up inside to know she would never love him like she loved him. “You don't understand.” 

“Oh, I think I do, MC,” he said, letting her wrist go. “I just hope you know what you're doing.” 

“You make it sound so black and white, but it’s not,” she insisted, backing up away from him. The paleness of her face contrasted against the darkness that lingered in her eyes. It made him think of dark angels, tragic souls doomed to sorrow, and he immediately regretted saying anything. Her lips trembled, but he watched her stiffen, slamming up those walls she hid behind. “You think it’s easy, a simple matter of choosing between you and him. You think you want me in your life, but trust me, that is the last thing I would wish for you. I would destroy it. I would bring darkness down upon your head, and then you would end up hating me. I couldn’t bear it. Don’t ask me to risk it. I can’t…” 

“I could never hate you,” he denied, clenching his hands in frustration.

She held up her hands, shaking her head, still backing up. “It would be easier if you did,” she said, her voice cracking slightly. “Perhaps you are right. We need to take a step back.”

In defiance of her words and his own insistence that they should do just that, Leander took a step towards her. The thread was stretched to breaking point, she was before him, but it felt like she was slipping away, an apparition that would dissipate into the air and leave him with nothing. 

“Where will you go?” He felt the bite of his fingernails against his palms as he clung to the last shred of his self control. 

“Scotland first,” she replied. “After that, I am not sure, but I will send you updates. I won’t let you down.” 

“Be safe,” he said softly.

The look she gave him tore the crack in his heart until he thought he wouldn’t be able to draw another breath. Her eyes had always held this magical power that hit levels high above anything he had ever known. Just to lock gazes with her could render him speechless, in awe of her, his whole soul belonging to the myriad of flecks and shadows that shone in those blue orbs. Perhaps she had bewitched him, and for a short time, he had held her. She had almost been his.

How was he supposed to let that go?

As she vanished with the sharp crack of her magic, he had thought perhaps there had been a tear escaping from her eye, but he couldn’t be sure. He would likely never know. She was gone, and he stood where he had first kissed her, realising it would likely be the last, too. The kitchen was now empty. The roar of the Atlantic still sounded in the background, timeless and relentless, whilst he was left with broken dreams and a torn hole in his chest.

Sebastian

The tension in his shoulders and arms felt like taut ropes pulled to their utmost, his chest rising and falling with each strained breath, as though a weight pressed down upon him. In his mind, his thoughts spun on a carousel of torture, imagining Prewett laying a hand upon her. The very idea of them being alone together made his blood burn with tumultuous, jealous fury.

In what world could he have ever imagined that MC would feel something for that irritating Gryffindor. Denying it was pointless. He had seen it in her eyes when she spoke of him. She had some kind of affection for Prewett, and it was proven further by her adamant refusal to let him go to the meeting with her. She knew he would annihilate him with a few handy hexes for daring to put his hands on her.

Pacing the space inside his tent appeared to not ease any of his tension, and his hand dipped into his pocket, a moment of panic seizing him as his fingers grasped empty fabric. His gaze darted to his bunk, and his mouth dared curve into a slight smile as he remembered last night. The amulet now hung about her neck, placed there by his own hands. The longing that pierced him as he thought about how she had lay down with him, her body relaxing into sleep against his frame as he had continued to read. So many nights he had ached to do just that, and now she had been beside him twice. There had to be many more times like that, the idea of spending another night apart from her unthinkable now that she was here. He rubbed absently against the scar on his palm, and turned to pace once more, ruffling the unruly strands of his hair and waiting for her return.

The tent flap rustled and Rosier appeared, a smug smirk on his lips as he wandered towards his bunk and sat. “I thought you and your little witch might have still been cosied up together in here,” he said, his eyes roaming over Sebastian’s rumpled bedding. “Where is she?” 

“I don’t know,” he said honestly, because he didn’t know where MC had gone to meet with Prewett. 

“Maybe she is off somewhere stewing over this,” Rosier smirked, holding up a copy of the Daily Prophet that he’d had tucked under his arm. He waved it under Sebastian’s nose. “We ought to be careful, mate. She isn’t long out of Azkaban, and I wouldn’t put it past Aurors to have eyes on her.”

Sebastian felt the blood freeze in his veins, and he snatched the newspaper from Rosier’s grip, unfolding it to look down at the front page. A moving photograph of MC with her prisoner number board stared up at him, her young face haunted and broken. Pushing down the memory of those days when she had been taken from him, Sebastian scanned the article written about her release, and how she could be a potential danger roaming the country with all that power at her fingertips. Of course, the Ministry have made their assurances that everything is under control, and they wouldn’t have allowed her to be free if they thought her an immediate danger, however, the reporter had laid it on thick about her ancient magic abilities. 

Sebastian glanced at Rosier, an uneasy edge piling on top of his already agitated nerves. “Have any of the others said anything to you about this?” 

“Not yet,” Rosier shrugged, drawing a cigarette box from his coat pocket. “But, how long before Rookwood has his doubts, if he doesn’t have them already? She is a dangerous little thing, your witch. The Auror Office would be foolish not to keep a close eye on her.”

If Rosier were to discover who MC was with right now, this inflammatory article would carry a lot more weight, and it would make the rest of the camp uneasy. Sebastian dropped the newspaper down onto the bunk beside Rosier and began to pace again. 

“If Aurors are watching, then they must be rather bored by now,” he muttered, pushing a hand through his hair. “Once MC and I leave to seek out ancient magic hotspots, the heat will be off the rest of you. I’m sure there is nothing to worry about.” 

“Not even Lulu?” Rosier gave him an enquiring glance, tucking a cigarette between his lips.

Sebastian’s eyes darkened, his mouth tightening as he shook his head. “I haven’t seen her. I will be leaving with MC today, so she shouldn’t be a problem.” 

“Never underestimate a woman scorned, mate,” Rosier said, the glow from the tip of his wand illuminating his handsome face as he lit his cigarette. “You dropped her for a more powerful pretty, she isn’t going to just forget about it. Just watch yourself.”

Sebastian frowned, the feeling that Rosier was probably right sliding down the back of his neck. All the more reason to get things moving as soon as possible. He moved towards where he had packed some essentials into a leather bag, checking the contents and glancing around to ensure he remembered everything. MC’s bag sat on the bunk, neatly packed and ready to go.

A sharp crack sounded behind him, and he turned. MC stumbled slightly as she arrived, her face drawn and pale, and she wiped her hand swiftly across her cheek. Her eyes were glassy and he wondered if she had been crying. Gaze darting around the tent, she spotted Rosier and she stiffened, striding towards Sebastian’s bunk with a hard look on her face. 

“Is everything alright?” Sebastian asked warily, exchanging a look with Rosier, who merely shrugged. 

“Fine,” she snapped, grabbing up her bag and throwing it over her shoulder. “Let’s get going. We have already lost precious hours of daylight, and the deposits won’t find themselves.”

Sebastian stared at her, noting the taut way her shoulders were held, the tight line of her mouth. The meeting must not have gone well, and curiosity burned as he wondered what Prewett had said to vex her. “I’m ready when you are,” he said, fastening the strap on his bag. 

“Good luck,” Rosier said, giving him a wry smile.

MC remained tight lipped as she wrapped a warm, woollen cloak about her shoulders and stepped towards him, linking her arm around his. “Are you sure you know where to go?”

Sebastian met her gaze, answering the cold hardness that she used as a shield with a smug smirk. “Of course, sweetheart,” he said, subtly tugging her closer. “We will start at the top of our list and work through it. Hopefully, we will strike it lucky.”

With a nod towards Rosier, Sebastian held her firmly and twisted them through darkness, whisking them both away from the camp and right into a cold, blustery wind that cut right across the west coast of Scotland. They both gasped against the force of it, clinging to each other as her cloak snapped and twisted, a fine mist of rain coating their faces.

The small island of Staffa lay surrounded by the swell and crash of the ocean, bleak and deserted, isolated from the mainland unless one dared to reach it by vessel. With the power of magic, they had arrived at the remote location, a place steeped in myth and legend with the locals. Sebastian glanced around them, the rough grass dropping off the cliff edge towards the rocks and surging waves below. 

“The cave is below us,” he shouted against the wind, still holding on to MC as though the strong gusts might carry her away. “It’s tidal, so let’s hope the sea is on our side.”

She leaned forward, staring at the drop, her face still cold and hard. “And you really think there could be ancient magic here?”

He shrugged. “It’s worth a try. The legend of the giant, Fingal, is a well known Muggle story, but it is based on some truth. If we do find ancient magic here, then it might be worth hopping across to Ireland to investigate the other end of the Causeway for more.” 

“Let’s just get down into the cave and out of this wind to start with,” she shouted, pulling her cloak closer. 

Taking a good look at the rocks below, Sebastian gripped her tight and closed his eyes. The rocks below were slippery and shaped like perfectly cut tiles creating a pattern along the cliff base. Waves surged forwards, coating them in spray, and he felt MC’s fingers bite into the back of his jacket as they picked their way along. Columns of rock in identical neat rows wrapped around the cliff face, giving it the appearance of being man-made, the mouth of the cave yawning dark and foreboding with a channel of ocean flooding into it. A pathway made up of the strangely cut rock looked like a winding slab of honeycomb, coated in green weed rather than golden honey. 

“Easy now, and watch your step,” he urged. “It’s wet and slippery all the way in to the cave.”

They carefully stepped their way along, MC still holding his arm despite remaining tight lipped and tense as they moved further into the gloom. The crash of waves echoed against the rock, the scent of the sea pungent as the darkness began to claim them. Pulling out his wand, he held it up. “Lumos!”

MC paused, as did he, their mouths parted as they gazed around at the cave, the walls continuing in row upon row of rock columns. “It doesn’t make sense,” she murmured, tilting her head right back to look at the patterned roof. “Do you think it’s true that a giant built this? I’ve never seen anything like it before.” 

Sebastian opened his mouth to reply, but the words died on his lips, goosebumps spreading swiftly along his arms and his hair standing on end as a haunting sound echoed through the cave. It was like a humming, or a chanting voice, twinned with an ethereal acoustic that sent shivers cascading through him. He looked at MC, and saw the way her eyes widened as she looked deeper into the maw of the cave before meeting his gaze. 

“What is that?” She whispered, some of the hardness slipping from her features in her surprise. “Mermaids?”

He shook his head. “I don’t think so…” 

Not impossible, of course, but he had neither heard nor read of any mention of mermaids being seen here. He stared into the blackness, the eerie sound blending with the roar of the ocean behind them. Instinctively, his arm circled MC’s waist, holding her against him protectively. “Do you feel anything? Could there be magic here?”

She remained silent, and he turned his attention away from the rear of the cave to look at her. Her gaze was lifted to the sound, her eyes glassy and full of shadows. There was pain in her expression, something lost and haunted that pulled sharply deep within his chest. 

“MC? What is it?” 

Her throat worked and she gently shook her head, staring up at the stunning rock face. “There is no ancient magic here. Only ghosts.”

When she finally looked at him, he caught a glimpse of her raw and exposed, but then she slammed down her shields, her eyes flicking away from him. As quickly as that, she had hardened her shell and closed him off. Something was wrong. 

“What happened this morning, MC? You’re different. What happened with Prewett?” 

She wouldn’t look at him, and she pulled back from him, placing a distance between them whilst still keeping their arms linked. “Just get us out of here, we are wasting time,” she said, her mouth tightening as she shivered. 

…*…

The Fairy Pools, Loch Ness, and the Standing Stones of Stenness, all locations of myth and legend and yet, they turned up nothing. The pull of each act of Apparation and taking MC with him was beginning to drain Sebastian. He felt weary, and his head was feeling fuzzy. Frustration hung like a tense cloud, hovering over them and feeding on the icy mood that still clung to MC.

Clipped sentences and hard faced, her mood plummeted as the day wore on. These locations were beautiful, steeped in lore and history, and such visits should have been enjoyable, but there was no spark at all. Not one smile graced her mouth, and her eyes remained distant and seeking out horizons that didn’t include him. 

“We should make camp,” he suggested, looking up to the skies. Thunderheads were rolling in, and the air felt thick and heavy, the tops of nearby mountain peaks vanishing into the misty clouds. “Would you prefer to return to the Ashwinder camp, or make our own?”

The rush of a nearby brook babbled and gushed, the scent of wild grasses and old woodlands heavy in the air. The breeze was chill, and MC held her cloak about herself as she stepped through the spongy bog of ground towards the swift moving stream. Taking out her water skin, she crouched to fill it. Sebastian waited, the long silences that followed any time he spoke were starting to grate on his nerves. It felt like she didn’t wish to speak with him at all, that he was a loose part there for travel convenience and nothing more. The closeness he had felt having her asleep in his arms last night was long gone.

“There is something I need to do,” she said finally, replacing the cap to her refilled skin as she stood. The wind pressed the loose strands of hair from her braid across her face as she turned to look at him, her features firm and resolute. Even in this frosty atmosphere she had weaved today, he couldn’t help but feel drawn to the sheer beauty of her. “Do you think we could pay a visit to Ominis?” 

“Ominis?” He frowned. “How can he help with searching out deposits?” 

“This isn’t about the deposits,” she said, her gaze following the stream as it wound down the hillside towards the thick cover of trees. “I want to talk to him about the owl he sent me.” 

“Ominis is sending you owls now?” Sebastian frowned and folded his arms as he studied her. “How very cosy.”

She gave him a look, loaded with antagonism. “Don’t tell me that makes you jealous, now, Sebastian. I know the Gaunt family like sharing their blood, but don’t worry, I’m not in the market for a husband, cousin or otherwise. Besides, Ominis already has a wife, doesn’t he? Were you ever going to tell me that he married your twin, or were you saving that loaded whizz cracker as a big surprise?” 

“I wasn’t saving it for anything,” he muttered, striding towards her, heart in his mouth. “What do you mean by not wanting a husband?” 

“I mean exactly that,” she said, a humourless smirk twisted her face. “Seb, I’ve just got out of Azkaban. I am surrounded, once again, by dark wizards and danger, my mother is alive out there in the world somewhere, and my head is fucked up between all of that and all these feelings trapped in my chest that I cannot even begin to comprehend! The last thing on my mind is fucking marriage, and yet, that is what you took from my words!”

Her voice reached squeaky levels of fury, her cheeks flushing, and her eyes blazing with a temper that flickered white and blue. Turning, she stomped her little booted feet across from the stream, marching with a rigid frame towards the mountain trail that led into the forest. Her angry muttering about selfishness and priorities carried on the breeze, and he felt his own patience begin to split and fail. 

“Hey, where are you going?” He called after her, hurrying to catch up. 

“Anywhere away from you,” she snarled over her shoulder. 

“What the fuck did I do?” He huffed, reaching out to try and catch hold of her arm and missing. “I thought things were okay between us now.”

She whirled to face him, catching him off guard with a sharp intake of breath as his booted feet slid on a patch of mud. Thunder rumbled over the mountain, low and menacing, as she screwed up her face in frustration and thumped her fists against her thighs. 

“That’s just it, isn’t it? Everything seems to be alright, and then I start to doubt myself,” she sputtered, eyes dark with agony. “Sometimes I wish I could just turn it all off, stop all this tangled web of feelings inside of me and just exist without any of it having to be so bloody complicated.” 

“You are preaching to the choir, princess,” he said, shaking his head. He jabbed a finger into his own tight chest. “How many times have I wished for something similar? There is a whole cavern of fucked up shit inside here that torments me every single day. I want to shove my own hands inside my chest and just rip it all out sometimes. Drink doesn’t do anything, only numbs it for a while, and gods forbid I ever try and get a good night’s sleep. No, at night, when the world is quiet, my head is screaming at me, reminding me of all the bad shit I can never run away from. So, I get it. I really do.” 

Shoulders slumping, she put her hands to her head and looked up at the heavy sky, pain etched on her lovely face. An agonised sound tore from her throat. “What do I do, Seb? What should I do? We found nothing today, nothing! Rookwood is going to be wanting progress, and Leander…” 

Her words rasped from her throat, desperate and harsh, but her voice cracked when she mentioned Prewett’s name. She squeezed her eyes closed and turned away from him, still holding her head. 

“What about Leander?” He asked, taking a slow step forward as the first few drops of rain began to fall from the swollen clouds. “What happened this morning, MC? You can tell me.” 

“No,” she said firmly, shaking her head. She brushed back loose strands of her hair and looked up at the sky, drops of rain landing on her cheeks. “I don’t want to talk about this morning. We should go. Take us to Ominis before we become swallowed by the storm.” 

He didn’t know why it scared him so much, her reluctance to talk about Leander. The agony on her face, it spoke of strong feelings, and he wondered what torture she meant about the emotions in her chest. Did her affections for Prewett really run that deeply? Fighting the urge to grab her by the arms and demand answers he wasn’t sure he really wanted to hear, he stepped up and merely gently took her arm instead, taking the soft approach as though taming a skittish beast. 

“Alright, we will go to Ominis,” he said, keeping his voice level and calm. “Then we will make a plan for tomorrow. We must be missing something, but we will figure it out, just like we always do. We can read over Isadora’s papers again, and think back over the deposits you found before. One day at a time, MC. That’s how we do it, one day at a time.” 

Pressing her lips together, her eyes glassy and dark, she nodded. “Gods, I knew there was a reason I asked for you to come along with me,” she sighed, leaning her forehead against his shoulder. “You are a pain in my side, Sebastian, but I’m glad you’re here.” 

“I’m not entirely sure how to take that,” he muttered, pressing his lips to her bowed head. 

“Well, it’s the best you’re going to get today,” she mumbled against his coat. 

Smiling into the soft sweetness of her hair, he held her close. “Oh, I’ve missed you.” 

Leaving a stormy Scotland behind, he whisked them away to a smog filled London, and the warm glow of the hearth in Ominis’ kitchen. The warmth of the fire bathed his damp cheeks, raindrops glistened like beads of glass in MC’s hair, and he could smell a rather delicious meal cooking as he glanced around the room. Ominis stood near the mantelpiece, lifting his wand with a curious expression as Sebastian helped MC steady her feet on the wooden floor. 

“Hello, old friend,” Sebastian greeted, his heart lifting at the sight of Ominis in his neatly pressed shirt and tie. “I have brought a visitor.” 

Ominis smiled, moving forward with his wand aloft. “I was wondering when you would show up.” 

MC left Sebastian’s arms and moved toward Ominis, the first shine of hope in her eyes all day lighting her face. “Ominis, I received your owl. You said you had visited with your parents. What did you discover?” 

A shadow crossed Ominis’ face. “I did indeed, and I am afraid they were rather closed off on the matter of Aunt Elizabeth. Father claims she is a traitor, and they have not seen her for many years.” 

Sebastian bit his lip, seeing the disappointment of another failure darken MC’s face. “They could tell you nothing at all?” He asked. 

“It matters not,” Ominis said, moving toward a briefcase on the table. A tap of his wand made the catches unclip and he reached inside to retrieve an old, leather book. He held it up. “Where my parents are a closed book, I turned to the one person who used to never let me down, and even in death, she is there when I need her. Aunt Noctua kept journals, journals that are kept in her house in Norfolk. A house that now belongs to me. A quick trip there, and I may have managed to find some answers for you. Here.” 

He held out the book and MC took it with trembling hands. Sebastian moved to her shoulder and watched as she opened the pages yellowed with age. 

“I had read some of her journals once I obtained ownership of my aunt’s property, but not all,” Ominis explained. “I knew that she had been close with her sister when they were children. She often spoke fondly of her to me. Of course, Elizabeth was already gone by this time, so I never met her myself. Therefore, I chose some diaries that dated previous to my own birth, and discovered that Elizabeth had confided in Noctua over personal matters. You might find dates during the summer of this journal particularly interesting, MC.” 

“What is this?” Anne’s sharp tone cut through the room like a blade. Sebastian tensed and turned to look at his twin standing in the doorway, her arms folded, and her face set into a look that would have put his mother to shame in its level of disapproval. “Tell me, dear husband, why is she in my kitchen?” 

“Anne!” Ominis frowned, aiming his wand towards her direction, the red tip blinking. “Now, now, my love. There is no need to be rude.”

Sebastian immediately put a protective hand to MC’s back, meeting Anne glare for glare as she marched into the kitchen, her hand dipping into her pocket for her wand. 

“No prizes for guessing who brought her here,” Anne scowled, her eyes flashing towards Sebastian before landing on the journal in MC’s hands. “Is that Noctua’s?” 

MC grasped the journal close to her chest, and Sebastian could feel the tension in the muscles of her back. He was immediately on high alert.

“We didn’t come here looking for trouble,” Sebastian said, holding up his other hand. “You certainly don’t need your wand, Anne.” 

“Then, why are you here?” Anne snapped, stubbornly tilting her chin as she raised her wand even higher.

Ominis sighed and pressed fingers to his brow. “Anne, please. Don’t do this.” 

“You know how I feel about this woman, and now she dares to step foot in my house,” Anne glowered. “Did she not learn her lesson the last time she tried to get her feet under my table? You are not welcome here.” 

Anne aimed her wand towards MC, her mouth a bitter line. Sebastian immediately stepped between them both, hands up, desperate to diffuse the situation. 

Anne’s eyes narrowed. “What makes you think I won’t hex you to get to her?” 

MC’s breaths were harsh at his back, hissing through gritted teeth as she pulled out her own wand and aimed it around Sebastian, both of his girls squaring up to fight with him in the middle. It was the stuff of nightmares.

“You are not going to hex me,” he warned, daring to place the palm of his hand on top of Anne’s wand and gently lowering it. He then moved his hand towards MC’s wand with a pointed look. “Nobody is going to be hexing anyone.” 

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t blast you both out of here,” Anne huffed. “The absolute nerve of you to bring her here under my roof.” 

“Hark at you, playing the victim,” MC sneered, aiming her wand straight for Anne. “If anyone is to start throwing hexes around, then that would be me, and I have a very good reason to be here under this roof.” 

“I can think of no reason to welcome you here,” Anne hissed.

“Tell her, Ominis,” Sebastian sighed. “I am assuming she doesn’t know yet.”

Anne’s eyes widened as she looked towards Ominis. “Tell me what?” 

Ominis appeared to brace himself, as always, maintaining that dignified air that made his very presence dominate a room. “No, she doesn’t know. Now, Anne, please try to be reasonable here. It has come to light that MC is, in fact, my relative. Her birth records prove her to be my Aunt Elizabeth’s daughter, and therefore, she is my cousin.” 

Whatever colour had managed to manifest on Anne’s pale face now disappeared, draining from her flesh as she stared aghast. She shook her head, eyes wild as she glanced around at them all. “No,” she breathed. “No, that cannot be. She can’t be a Gaunt… I would know.” 

The last three words tumbled from her lips in a stunned mumble, but Sebastian caught them. His heart jumped, and then stalled in his chest as he seized his twin’s arm in a vice grip. 

“What do you mean, you would know?” His voice was low, dangerous, and his sister turned her big brown eyes up towards his face, all signs of her rage seeping away to be replaced by shock. 

“Indeed, a question I was about to ask myself,” Ominis said, moving slowly forward. He tilted his head, his wand scanning his wife. “Why would you think that you should know this? Because I certainly did not until MC showed me her birth record.” 

Accustomed to usually having the upper hand, Anne floundered for a few seconds, her eyes darting from one to the other. Sebastian savoured her being at a loss. She usually had a quick tongue, which meant that she was searching out a reply, a lie to cover tracks she had not anticipated. He honed in on this vulnerability, his instincts kicking in to delve and uncover. 

“Well, well, it looks like I’m not the only one who has secrets,” Sebastian crooned, poised to pounce. “What have you been hiding, sister dearest? It wouldn’t have anything to do with our parent’s research, would it? You know, the information that you were so desperate to hide away from me.” 

Anne stiffened, her eyes hardening as she stared at him. “It will stay hidden,” she said, nodding as if confirming something to herself. She pulled herself up straight, her eyes sunken into her pale cheeks, a waif of a thing, but capable of being formidable still. “I don’t have to explain myself, especially in front of her. Just as I predicted, it did not take long for her to sink her hooks into you again, and now you are running around like her little errand boy. You think this is love, but it is nothing but a toxic obsession. You are entranced by her power and what she can do, but it blinds you to the danger she is to everyone. I warned you, Uncle Solomon warned you, and now here you are. It will be a cold day in hell before I let her get anywhere close to that research, and wherever you are, she isn’t far behind you. It stays hidden!” 

“I have just as much right to that research as you,” he bit out. “And, what of Ominis? MC is his family. If there is anything in those files concerning her, then it could affect him, too.” 

Anne’s eyes darted towards Ominis and she took a few steps backward, her wand arm shifting in agitated arcs. “How long have you known she was your blood?” 

“A few days,” he admitted. “I needed some time to think it over, and speak with my parents. It was never my intention to keep it from you.” 

“And yet you did,” Anne said bitterly, her rigid facade cracking a little. “Do you agree with Sebastian? Do you think I should let him see the research?” 

Ominis bowed his head in thought, the room stretched taut with tension so thick Sebastian fancied he could smell it. MC was silent beside him, his hand easing up and down her tense back in soothing strokes. 

“What could be in that research that is so terrible, Anne? Would your parents keep it from one of you, but not the other? It hardly seems fair to me.” 

Anne’s face scrunched in fury, a low growl of frustration bursting from her as she clenched her fists. “You do take their side! You agree with them over your wife! None of you understand. I have lost so much already, and yet you push me to risk losing even more. I blame her! I blame that bitch for coming into our lives and ripping out the very beating heart of it, and I will never, ever forgive you for it. Never!” 

Sebastian gaped at his twin, the fury on her wan face was staggering as she jabbed her wand towards MC with a shaking hand. Ominis stepped towards her, his face distressed, but she backed away from him, shaking her head. 

“She had better be gone when I get back,” she spat, her eyes narrow slits as she glared at MC. “I hope never to see you darken my door ever again, and you should stay away from my brother. If there is a shred of decency left in your conscience, then you will do as I ask, before you destroy him.” 

Sebastian could feel MC shaking, but his eyes were fixed on his twin as he tried to process the fury and hate that spilled from her mouth. Could it be the curse making her speak in such a way? His sister had been the other half of his soul his whole life, her hand had always been there to hold, her words a comforting whisper in his ear whenever he would cry as a child. He did not recognise the girl before him now, and he thought perhaps a part of himself was dying right there as she tore at a person who was so important to him. She was cutting him off from his parents and their life work, holding secrets, and acting so ugly that it made his eyes burn with hot tears. 

“Anne, please…” His broken plea came out as a sob, and she met his gaze, a moment of regret quickly shielded as she backed into the doorway, her wand aimed into the room as though they were the enemy. 

“No,” she said through gritted teeth, and then she was gone. A swirl of black and Anne vanished, taking her fury with her like a storm that blew in and out again on the shore. 

Sebastian turned his gaze to Ominis, who held his head in his hands, and then to MC, who met his confused misery with those mesmerising eyes draped in shadow. If she even dared to listen to Anne and abandon him, then hell itself would cower from his rage. How many times could he keep himself upright on his own two feet and watch as someone he loved disappeared? 

His hand gripped the back of MC’s robe as if to keep her there, the fear that she would vanish too made his throat close. Perhaps she sensed his fear, for her hand sought out his and she grasped it in a tight grip, and then she was reaching for Ominis and taking his hand, too. The three of them stood, hands clasped in the ringing silence of the kitchen, as the skies above London burst into a downpour of rain. 

Taglist: @eternalremorse @slytherin-paramour @writing-intheundercroft @marketfreshfics @evaslytherpuff @loving-him-was-red13 @sevprince-91 @lucy-withthediamonds-inthesky

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Lost and Found: A Pirate's Promise

Chapter 31: The Devil's Playground 

A/N: And we are back at it again with another chapter! Sanji Pov, will be for Chapter 32. This one was also my favorite chapter to write cause this one we get to where Doflamingo places everyone in the bird cage, we get a Luffy POV, and has listed out the 12 names. And as an added bonus… well let me not get to ahead of myself (heheh) thank you guys so much for reading and following along! Thank you for the likes, reblogs, comments, follows, interactions everything. Im grateful for each and everyone of you <3, but without further a do… lets get to it!

Word count: 

Law POV… 

A few minutes had passed since Doflamingo dragged you into this wretched room, and you were still struggling under the binds of his strings. My thoughts were interrupted as Doflamingo’s voice cut through the air, filled with irritation.

“I thought your only objective was to destroy the Smile Factory,” he said, his tone dripping with annoyance. “Strawhats are teaming up with the little people from Greenbit. Seems a bit capricious, don’t you think?”

“Little people?” I echoed, my confusion evident.

Doflamingo continued, his words sharp and probing. “While you’re at it, tell me how the Strawhat crew managed to get into the underground port. They’re doing a fine job at pissing me off.”

Y/N let out a low laugh, her voice defiant despite the pain. “Worried that your dark secrets will come to light?”

Doflamingo’s gaze darkened, and he moved towards you with a menacing stride. Before he could reach you, Baby 5 stepped forward and slapped you across the cheek. “The young master wasn’t speaking to you, harlot!” she said, her voice cold and full of disdain.

Your face remained defiant, even as you laughed again. “Baby 5, didn’t we have this conversation back at Doffy’s quarters? Unless you want to end up like that dent I just made, choose your words wisely!”

Baby 5’s resolve faltered, and she retreated to Buffalo, her face flushed with frustration. “Don’t do it if it’s going to make you cry,” Buffalo said, attempting to comfort her.

“I already told you I have nothing to do with them anymore. Our alliance ended; whatever they’re doing out there is none of my business,” I said, trying to maintain my composure despite the strain.

Doflamingo’s expression darkened as he turned his attention back to you. “Hmm, I’m not sure if you’re telling the truth or if you’re just as clueless as the rest of them,” he mused.

Without warning, he grabbed y/n, lifting her into the air. “Let me go!” y/n yelled, her voice filled with desperation. “Y/N!” I shouted, trying to reach out to you.

“Doflamingo, let her go!” I demanded, my voice raw with urgency.

“Why should I?” Doflamingo said, his smile widening cruelly. “The princess is no longer an ally of yours, which means she must have known about the plan.”

Y/N turned her head slightly, her eyes widening as tears welled, but her demeanor remained unbroken. “She saw something,” I thought, trying to piece together the situation.

Doflamingo’s smile turned sinister as he hurled you towards the wall. The impact made you jerk violently, and a cry of pain escaped you. “Y/N! Princess, please talk to me!” I called out, my voice cracking with concern.

Y/N gasped for breath, her body wracked with coughs from the force of the impact. Your labored breathing and the pained expression on your face were a crushing blow to my resolve. I felt helpless, my own restraints making it impossible to reach you.

Luffy POV… 

Zoro stayed behind to handle Pica while Violet and I managed to get away. “I’m coming for you, Mingo!” I shouted, determination fueling my every step. As we navigated through the palace, something caught my attention—dents in the walls, smashed pillars, and debris scattered around.

“What happened here?” Violet asked, her voice laced with concern.

I chuckled, a wide grin spreading across my face. “Y/N made a path for us to follow.” I could feel my energy surging just thinking about it, and I started running faster. The trail led us to a window that overlooked the room where Traffy and Y/N were. “Traffy and Y/N are in there! Now’s the time!” I got ready to burst in and kick Doflamingo’s ass.

“Wait,” Violet grabbed my arm. “You have to wait just a little longer. The Tontatta tribe hasn’t completed Operation SOP yet!”

“The what?!” I shot her a confused look.

“Never mind the details,” Violet sighed, “the point is, we need a few more minutes.”

I ducked behind cover with Violet to avoid being seen, frustration building up inside me. Every second felt like an eternity. Just then, I saw it—Mingo had Y/N in his grasp. She was struggling, fighting with everything she had. My fists clenched, and I could feel my rage boiling over.

“That’s it!” I growled, getting ready to charge at Doflamingo.

“No, you have to wait a little longer!” Violet hissed, holding me back.

“My crewmate is in danger!” I shouted, my voice barely containing my fury.

As if she heard me, Y/N locked eyes with mine. For a brief moment, time seemed to freeze. Her eyes widened, and I saw tears welling up, but even through the pain, the defiance in her gaze remained strong. Then, with a cruel twist of his hand, Doflamingo hurled her against the wall.

“Damn it!” I muttered through clenched teeth, watching her struggle to rise, her body showing signs of exhaustion. “Hold on, Y/N, just a few more minutes.” My fists shook with impatience, ready to explode the moment I got the signal.

I couldn't take my eyes off her—she was holding on, and I had to make sure that when the time came, I’d be ready to fight

Y/N POV… 

I saw him... I saw Luffy! He's finally here. I just need to buy a few more minutes. Just enough.

Doflamingo's cold hands gripped me again, hoisting me up before placing me roughly back into the chair. My breathing was labored, but I caught a glimpse of one of my blades peeking out from the binds. Slowly, carefully, I began moving my left hand toward it, desperately trying to grasp the handle.

As I struggled, my fingers finally wrapped around the blade. Yes! I thought triumphantly, working quietly to cut through the string binds. The faint sound of ripping meant progress. Just a few more...

Suddenly, I heard Doflamingo’s voice, his tone as cold as ever. “Trebol, bring Sugar to the palace, and quick.”

Trebol's slimy voice crackled through the call. “Take it easy, Doffy, they tried to pull one on me, but I’ve got it under control.”

What the hell does that mean? I thought, my heart pounding in my chest.

“I’m fine, young master,” Sugar’s voice added, her tone eerie. “The enemy is barely conscious anymore.”

I let out a low laugh, feeling the last of the binds around my legs finally snap. My mobility returned. "She’s wrong, you know," I muttered under my breath, still clutching the blade in my left hand. Channeling every ounce of energy I had left, I focused it into the blade, a faint glow illuminating its edge.

Doflamingo’s footsteps echoed as he turned his attention back to me, his predatory smile widening. "I see you're still defiant, my little princess," he purred, approaching with slow, deliberate steps. "Maybe you need a reminder of who's in control here."

"Y/N! What are you doing?!" Law shouted, his voice strained with desperation.

Doflamingo was getting closer. My grip on the blade tightened as I felt the pressure of his looming presence.

Suddenly, his hand wrapped around my throat, squeezing tighter than before. I gasped, struggling to breathe as his fingers dug into my skin.

Trebol’s voice crackled through the room again, this time sounding panicked. “I gooped, I gooped real bad!” he cried. “She got scared, she got scared and passed out!”

Doflamingo's head snapped towards the transponder snail, his teeth grinding audibly. His hand loosened around my throat, and I gasped for air, my lungs greedily filling with oxygen again. He released me entirely, his fury redirected.

“Is this some kind of joke?!” he growled, his voice low and dangerous.

Trebol’s sobs continued, echoing through the snail. “The toys we collected for over a decade... they’re turning human again!”

Buffalo, wide-eyed, pointed to the screen in the room. “Hey, look! In the colosseum!”

Doflamingo's gaze whipped towards the screen, his eyes narrowing as the scene unfolded in front of him. One by one, all of the toys were reverting to their human forms, along with the memories that had been stolen for years.

His jaw clenched, his attention entirely absorbed by the chaos unfolding on the screen. His empire, his carefully guarded secret, was falling apart. The memories of everyone he had manipulated were flooding back, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

This is my chance, I thought, feeling my strength returning. With Doflamingo distracted, I ripped the remaining string binds from my body, finally freeing myself. I stood up, rolling my shoulders, feeling the satisfying weight of mobility return.

“Sir, all these emergency reports keep flooding in!” a guard stammered, carrying an armful of ringing transponder snails. Panic was spreading fast.

The chaos in the room was palpable, and it was almost hilarious to witness. Doflamingo, usually so composed, was unraveling before my eyes. I smirked, savoring the moment.

“Didn’t think your secret would be out, did you, Doffy?” I taunted, my voice cutting through the noise.

I stood tall now, no longer bound, my eyes burning with defiance.

Doflamingo turned to me, his eyes widening in shock as he saw that I was no longer bound by his strings. My swords were back with me—one hidden in plain sight and the other, glowing with a faint yellow light, clutched tightly in my left hand as I channeled my energy through it.

“You’re going to pay for this!” Doflamingo snarled, lunging at me with fury in his eyes.

I didn't hesitate. With my left hand still clenched, I lifted my leg, speeding past him in a blur of motion. As soon as I was beside him, I swung my right fist, channeling all my strength into a direct punch to his chest. The impact sent him flying into the wall with a deafening crash.

My body trembled slightly, my breathing heavy as I stood back, lowering my right hand and unclenching it. I smirked, my voice calm yet triumphant. “Looks like I won , Doflamingo.”

I made my way over to Law, still cuffed by the sea prism stone handcuffs. His eyes were wide, a mix of relief and frustration on his face.

“Princess, you’re so reckless, you know that!” Law yelled, his voice strained. But when I looked into his eyes, I could see it—relief. He wasn’t angry, he was just glad I was okay.

I grinned teasingly, leaning in a little closer. “Oh? Is that relief I see, Law? I didn’t know you cared that much.”

“Tch,” he scoffed, but the faint pink that tinted his cheeks didn’t go unnoticed. “Don’t get cocky.”

Before we could continue, Doflamingo slowly managed to stand, dusting himself off despite the impact. His gaze locked on me once more, and he laughed darkly, stepping forward with a murderous glint in his eyes.

“You think this is over?” Doflamingo hissed. “I’ll crush you!”

I clutched my blade tightly, my muscles tensing as I prepared for the next attack. But just as I was about to make my move, I noticed someone hovering above Doflamingo, ready to strike. A smirk tugged at the corner of my lips.

“It’s not me you should be worried about,” I said coolly.

“What?!” Doflamingo snapped, his eyes flickering in confusion.

Suddenly, a voice rang out. “Kyros, my boy!” King Riku cried, his voice filled with joy and relief.

From above, Kyros leapt down, his blade flashing through the air. “I’m sorry to have kept you waiting, King Riku, but for the past ten years, I’ve prepared for this moment. Now, I’m here to save you!” Kyros, with precise and lethal force, swung his sword and severed Doflamingo’s head.

All of us stood frozen in shock as Doflamingo’s head rolled to the ground. Even Buffalo was stunned, his voice caught in his throat. “Doflamingo! You bastard, you’re going to—”

Before Buffalo could finish, Kyros silenced him with a swift slash of his sword. The chaos seemed to settle for just a brief moment, and then I heard the familiar voice of my captain echo through the room.

“Mingo just died?! Well, that sucks—I was going to be the one to kick his ass!” Luffy called out, his voice a mix of disappointment and eager excitement.

I turned to him, a relieved smile spreading across my face. “Glad to see you made it, Captain!” I said, slipping my blade back into its thigh halter as I hurried towards him.

Without hesitation, I threw my arms around him in a tight hug, both relieved that he had arrived just in time and grateful that he was okay. Luffy’s arms encircled me in return, and for a moment, the chaos of the battle seemed to fade away.

Just as Luffy was about to say something, we heard voices from afar: “There they are!” 

Luffy pulled back, his expression shifting to urgency. “Quick, we’ve got to save Traffy!” he said, determination evident in his voice.

I nodded, adrenaline kicking in once more. “Let’s move!”

Sabo POV…

The colosseum was in complete chaos. The transformation of toys back into humans and animals added to the pandemonium. I could see Rebecca and Bartolomeo struggling to make sense of the mess. “Now that the smoke is cleared, let’s uncover the truth, right Rebecca?” I said, as I began knocking on the floor of the colosseum. “There’s a core at the heart of all things,” I continued, my voice carrying over the chaos, “Once you find that, great or small can be undone.”

Bartolomeo looked at me, confusion etched on his face. “You lost me! You still sound cool as hell and I look up to you, but you lost me!”

With my armament haki, I cracked the middle of the ring. “Dragon Claw Fist, Dragon Breathe!” I shouted, the force of my attack breaking the ring apart. The structure began to collapse, and the water below started to pull the debris toward the center. Diamante’s voice came through, filled with disbelief. “What the hell did you do?”

I turned to face him, a determined glint in my eyes. “I got places to be, a princess to see, and a fruit to win!” I said. As the ring capsized and water surged below, I spotted the fish I had been searching for. “The treasure, there she is!” I said, grabbing the Flame-Flame Fruit from the treasure chest.

“You’re all out of bounds, which makes me the victor. Thanks for the prize,” I said, holding up the fruit. I took a bite, chewing and grimacing. “Gross,” I muttered, but the power surging through me was undeniable. As Rebecca began to fall, I rushed to her side, catching her just in time. “Brace yourself, I’m about to light things up.”

I began to remove my disguise—the beard, the shades, and the helmet—letting my blonde hair cascade freely. Raising my left arm, I felt the power of the Flame-Flame Fruit surging through me. “Ace, I take your ability!” I declared, as I unleashed a massive fire fist on the middle of the ring. The impact shattered the entire structure, sending debris flying.

As I descended from the air, Koala appeared beside me. “I got in touch with Hack! He’s waiting for us!” she said.

Works for me,” I replied with a smirk. “I have a princess to see.” We landed on the pavement below the Colosseum, the chaos of the battle still ringing in my ears.

“Be careful! Now that you’ve eaten a Devil Fruit, sea water weakens you!” Koala warned as we hurried through the streets.

“Got it,” I said, my mind already on finding Y/N. We reached Hack, who was waiting for us.

“What happened to your hand?” Koala asked, noticing the bandage.

“Oh, that? I fell,” Hack said, looking away with a hint of embarrassment.

“You fell? Are you sure you’re not hiding something?” Koala teased.

“Anyway, here are your clothes!” Koala said, handing me the familiar attire. As I put on the gloves, one of them caught on fire momentarily.

“Looks like I’ll have to get used to this,” I muttered with a wry smile.

“Who are you? Come out and say it already,” Rebecca said, with Bartolomeo standing behind her.

“Me?” I asked, grinning. “The name’s Sabo. We’re members of the Revolutionary Army!”

“So, does that mean Lucy is also with you?” Rebecca inquired.

“No, we’re both enemies of the World Government, but he’s going to be the King of the Pirates,” I said, my grin widening.

“A Pirate?!” Rebecca exclaimed, eyes wide.

“Yep, and he’s my brother. Surprised?” I said, feeling a mix of pride and nostalgia.

“Crazy, huh? And he’s still the same reckless kid I remember. Reminds me of someone I know,” I said, my thoughts drifting to Y/N and Luffy.

“Funny, I could say the same thing about you,” Koala said, adjusting my top hat with a teasing smile.

“Give me some credit. I usually think things through,” I retorted, trying to regain my composure.

“Oh really? I doubt that’s what Y/N would say,” Koala said with a smirk.

I blushed. “Now what… I—”

“Oh, so she is here in Dressrosa,” Hack said. “Can’t wait to meet the woman who makes you weak in the knees,” he said, sending me a wink.

I felt my cheeks flush even more. “Yeah, she’s here too, but—”

“Wait a second, you know the beautiful Princess Y/N?” Bartolomeo interrupted, eyes wide with awe. Tears started to well up in his eyes as if he’d just heard the most incredible news.

“Yes, I know her very well,” I said, smirking as a cheeky thought crossed my mind. “In fact, she’s pretty amazing. And, well, she has this way of making me—”

“Making you what?” Bartolomeo asked eagerly, hanging on my every word.

I chuckled, playing along with his curiosity. “Let’s just say she’s got a talent for keeping me on my toes. Sometimes it feels like I’m just a puppet dancing on her strings.”

Bartolomeo’s eyes widened even more, and he gaped. “No way! She’s that incredible?!”

“Yep, and don’t let her charm fool you. She’s got a fiery side that can be quite… overwhelming,” I teased, leaning in slightly.

“Oh man, I’ve heard stories about her, but to hear it from you…” Bartolomeo trailed off, practically swooning.

“Yep, she’s one of a kind. 

Changing the subject Rebecca’s curiosity was piqued as she listened to the reason why we were here in Dressrosa to begin with. "So, you’re here to stop the arms trade? That’s quite a mission."

I nodded, turning serious. “Exactly. This place is exporting firearms that are fueling conflict across the world. We’re here to put a stop to it.”

Hack, who had just punched a box filled with firearms, added, “These weapons are being distributed to various groups and regimes. It’s a huge problem.”

Rebecca looked concerned. 

“If we can uncover the truth, we’ll have something substantial to report to Dragon.” I said

Just then, a familiar voice called out, “Koala!”

I turned to see Koala and Robin embracing in a heartfelt hug. Robin’s smile was a welcome sight. “Robin! ” Koala said. “I thought I saw you guys back there!” Said Robin.

“Hey!” I greeted, trying to keep my composure despite the earlier teasing. “It’s Ms. Robin!”

Bartolomeo’s eyes widened. 

“Run into Luffy?” Robin chuckled, 

“Oh, he ran into more than just Luffy.” Koala said, as she teased, “Yeah, you should have seen his face.”

I felt my cheeks flush red again. “Is he okay?” I asked, noticing that Robin was with someone who was almost unconscious.

“This is Usopp,” Robin explained. 

“He should probably get some rest.” I said, as I noticed he doesn't look to good. 

Bartolomeo’s eyes lit up with admiration. “The Sniper King, right? He’s amazing!” His voice trembled as he began to tear up again.

“Cool it, you weirdo,” I said with a smirk, trying to diffuse the situation.

Y/N POV… 

“Traffy!” Luffy called out, his voice filled with relief as he barreled towards Law. “I’m here to save you!” he added with a dramatic wave.

“Oh good, you’re not dead!” Luffy said, sounding more like he’d just escaped a great calamity.

Law shot Luffy an annoyed look. “Didn’t I ask you to destroy the factory, Strawhat?” His voice was tinged with frustration. “Well, did you?” 

We gathered around Law, and I took the opportunity to sidle up close, gently cupping his face with a teasing grin. “Is that any way to thank us?” I asked, my voice dripping with playful sarcasm. “I mean, I got myself captured by Doflamingo just to lead Luffy here, and even went head-first into danger while you were out cold.”

Law’s eyes widened in disbelief. “You did WHAT?!” he exclaimed, his voice rising with shock.

“Oops, did I say that out loud?” I said, giving Law an innocent shrug. Before he could respond, a voice from the side window interrupted.

“Strawhat, Violet, I won’t let you lay a finger on—” the figure gasped, his eyes widening as he took in the scene. “Now who the hell is this guy?” I asked, looking at Luffy and Violet.

“Young, Young Master… who did this?” the man stammered, looking around in panic.

“Just a sec, I’m going to get you out of here,” Luffy said, grabbing the keys from Violet and approaching Law’s restraints.

“Thanks, but I’ll pass. Our alliance is terminated, so get lost,” Law said, still bound by the sea prism stone handcuffs.

“Quit being so stubborn!” I said to Law, frustration creeping into my voice. “You’re so selfish; I want to keep working with you, so deal with it!” Luffy chimed in, 

“Can you guys quit bickering for just two seconds?!” I snapped, my frustration bubbling over. The tiara, already precariously loose, threatened to fall off.

Luffy’s hands were shaking as he tried to unlock Law’s sea prism handcuffs. “Umm, guys…” I said, trying to get their attention. “You do realize that with the alliance called off, we’re enemies now. If you set me free, I’ll kill you!” Law, clearly irked, said,

“It’s hard enough to unlock these handcuffs with you squirming around. So stop moving!” said Luffy still struggling to get the key in the lock.

“Steady,” Violet said, trying to assist as Luffy fumbled.

Law’s irritation showed as he continued, “You guys weren’t paying any attention to me at all, were you? 

This is ridiculous. Why don’t you do it!” Luffy said about to hand back the Key to Violet.

“I can’t! I ate a Devil Fruit, too!” Violet said, frustration evident in her voice.

“Give me that!” I said, grabbing the keys. Just as I was about to unlock the handcuffs, a sinister chuckle filled the room.

The floor suddenly rose beneath us, causing us all to tumble. I landed right on Law’s lap as his chair toppled over.

“Law, are you alright?” I asked, still awkwardly sprawled on his lap.

Law’s smirk widened, and he looked down at me with a playful glint in his eye. His open sweater revealed his well-defined muscles and the detailed tattoo on his chest. “Well, this is quite the predicament,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “I didn’t expect you to make a move like this.”

I tried to get off Law’s lap, my cheeks flushed from the unexpected proximity. “Not exactly what I had in mind,” I said, attempting to regain my composure.

“It’s the wall guy!” Luffy shouted, drawing our attention.

“Wall guy?!” I echoed, confused.

Doflamingo’s headless body continued to laugh, his disembodied voice echoing through the room. “What a way to go, huh? That was a surprise.”

I took a cautious step back, my disbelief growing. “There’s no way...”

“Mingo’s alive?!” Luffy exclaimed, his voice tinged with frustration.

“Damn it!” I muttered, feeling the weight of the situation. Doflamingo’s mocking laughter filled the room as he continued, “The whole country should be spiraling into chaos now that all the toys have been freed. And for whatever reason, we have members of the Revolutionary Army nosing around too.”

“Sabo!” I thought, my concern for him rising. I clenched my right hand, feeling the power of my rings coursing through me, ready to fight.

“It’s a sad state of affairs at the palace, don’t you think?” Doflamingo taunted. “I’m left with no other choice but to use the Birdcage.”

Law, still chained and visibly shaken, faltered. I crouched down beside him, lowering my voice to a whisper. “Law, are you alright?”

“The Birdcage,” Law muttered, his eyes wide with fear. “You remember, don’t you, Law?”

Doflamingo's mocking laughter echoed across the crumbling palace. "Well, I suppose I shouldn’t delay this further," he sneered, ready to unleash his devastating power.

Kyros, with unwavering determination, sprang into action, his blade poised to deliver another slash. "How can you still be alive, Doflamingo?!" he shouted.

Before Kyros could land his blow, Doflamingo suddenly appeared behind him. “Kyros, watch out!” I yelled, panic rising in my chest.

Doflamingo’s voice dripped with menace as he taunted, “Do you want me to show you how to properly behead a man?”

My heart raced, and I whispered to myself, "How are there two of them?" The palace was now split in half from the sheer force of Doflamingo’s power, but Luffy, in his usual heroic fashion, managed to save Kyros just in time.

“Damn, Strawhat!” Doflamingo growled, both of his forms now looming behind Luffy.

“Luffy, watch out!” I shouted, my voice strained with worry.

“Pentachromatic Strings!” Doflamingo unleashed his attack, but Luffy managed to dodge, barely escaping the deadly strings.

“Gomu Gomu Jet Gatling!” Luffy retaliated, fists flying at lightning speed, but his punches were useless. Doflamingo’s protection remained unscathed, not even a scratch.

The second Doflamingo figure appeared, slashing Luffy across the back, blood spilling from the wound. “Luffy!” I screamed, my heart sinking as I watched him get punched with a crushing force, sending him flying into the wall, creating a deep dent.

“He made a marionette?” I whispered in shock, Violet confirming my suspicions.

Doflamingo, ever the sadistic puppeteer, turned his attention to King Riku, twisting the knife further. “Do you remember the night you betrayed your people, controlled by me? Don’t worry, I’m going to release you all.”

“Pika,” Doflamingo commanded, “I think it’s time you scatter these roaches.”

The ground beneath us trembled violently as Pika's massive form shifted. In one swift move, Pika grabbed us, his stone body towering over the shattered palace, and hurled us all into the air.

“Ahhh!” I screamed, tumbling helplessly, bracing for the inevitable impact.

“Hang on, guys!” Luffy shouted. “Gomu Gomu Balloon!”

With Luffy’s body acting as a cushion, we bounced safely onto the ground below, narrowly avoiding the harsh landing. “He took us right out of the palace,” Luffy muttered, clearly frustrated as we gathered ourselves and looked back up at the towering fortress.

Then, I heard Law’s voice, barely a whisper but thick with fear. “The Birdcage… it’s starting…”

We all turned, our gazes locking onto the sight that filled us with dread. High above us, Doflamingo was preparing to activate his infamous technique—the Birdcage, a twisted, lethal cage of strings that would trap and crush everyone in Dressrosa.

Suddenly, explosions rang out, followed by the sounds of utter chaos. “What the hell is happening down there?!” I exclaimed, as the screams of terrified civilians filled the air. The ground beneath us shook violently, and we all looked up in disbelief—Pika was lifting the entire royal palace away from its foundation.

“He’s changing the terrain,” Law said, his voice filled with tension.

Before any of us could react, the dark voice of Doflamingo boomed over the chaos. A video transmission appeared in the sky, his ominous face projected for all to see. “Citizens of Dressrosa and guests, greetings. Might I have a word?” he began, his tone dripping with malice. “Now that you know the truth, there’s no doubt in my mind that you all plan to kill me. But I’ve prepared a little game for you.”

The words sent chills down my spine as Doflamingo continued, “Your objective is to kill me. You can find me in the royal palace. Take my life, and the game ends. I die, you win. And as an added bonus, I will give you a second way to win.”

We all watched in horrified silence as the video transponder flickered, his sadistic grin widening. “I am about to read out a list of people, so get your pens ready. If you are able to bring me their dead bodies, I will reward you with a sizeable bounty for each and every head I receive. From this moment on, every person in the kingdom is a bounty hunter. The only way to survive is to take the life of another.”

Luffy and I exchanged furious glances, clenching our fists in rage, just as Zoro joined us. Doflamingo’s voice echoed across the city. “Will you join my family? Or meet my demands and hold these twelve fools accountable for the rebellion? Each of these ‘stars’ will be worth 100 million berries each. Let me read the list…”

As the names began to roll off Doflamingo’s lips, my heart sank. “Rebecca… Nico Robin… Foxfire Kinemon… Viola… and Cyborg Franky.”

I tensed at the mention of Robin’s, Franky’s and Kinemons name. “Damn,” I muttered under my breath. Zoro turned to me, sensing my unease.

Doflamingo's voice continued, unwavering and cruel. “Now, for the two-star bounties… Kyros, and Pirate Hunter Zoro.”

I turned to Zoro, frustration bubbling inside me. “He’s not making this easy on anyone.”

Zoro’s usual confidence didn’t falter. “Don’t worry, Y/N,” he said, his tone reassuring, though his eyes were cold and focused.

Doflamingo’s next words sent a shock through me. “Now, let’s move on to the head honchos. I present to you… the three-star bounties. Sabo, the chief of staff of the Revolutionary Army!”

My heart froze. My hands began to shake as a gasp escaped my lips. “Sabo, no…” I whispered, fear clawing at my chest.

“You know him, Y/N?” Zoro asked, his eyes narrowing. I turned to him, whispering softly, “He was… Sam from the all-male island I trained on.”

“What?!” Zoro exclaimed, his shock evident, but there was no time to explain further.

Doflamingo’s twisted voice continued, “Strawhat Luffy… King Riku… and Trafalgar Law!”

I felt like the world was spinning out of control. “This is madness…” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

“And finally, the five-star bounty…” Doflamingo’s voice took on a sinister edge. “The man who has aroused my indignation and resentment more than any other… God Usopp.”

I choked on my own spit, unable to believe my ears. “Usopp?!” I exclaimed, my mind racing. “This is bad,” Zoro muttered, his eyes narrowing. Luffy stood there, just as stunned.

“Out of all people, they give Usopp the highest one?!” I said, clenching my fists in disbelief.

“We have to—” I started to say, but I was cut off by Doflamingo’s final, venomous words. “And, as an added bonus, since I’m so generous… we have the six-star bounty, worth 600 million berries.”

The transponder showed my image next, my title emblazoned beneath it: “Princess” Y/N, a Strawhat Pirate.”

Doflamingo’s smile widened cruelly. “This princess… is to be brought to me alive. That’s right, alive. For those of you wondering why… well, let’s just say I have special plans for her. After all, royalty deserves a proper welcome,” his voice oozed with menace. “And once I have her, I’ll make sure she never escapes my grasp again.”

His chilling words hung in the air like a heavy weight. My blood boiled, anger and fear coursing through me. “Damn you, Doflamingo,” I growled under my breath.

[beardedjoel]

closer | part three

joel x f!reader. non-apocalypse au.

series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3  

chapter summary: you try and avoid joel after your awkward kiss the other day, but it doesn’t take long for him to reel you right back in. 5.2k words.

warnings: 18+ MDNI, age difference (joel is 42 and reader is 25), inexperienced reader, joel being a menace, more flirting, it’s gonna go DOWN next chapter, reader wears a cropped shirt and jean shorts, reader is described only as having hair

a/n: i hope you are all enjoying this so far! i’m so sorry this chapter definitely ends on a bit of an evil cliffhanger <3

You’re officially hiding from Joel. You realize you’re a grown woman and should be acting more mature about this, but you can’t seem to help the embarrassment that you feel when you even think about seeing him again. You wonder what he must think of you - just some silly girl, afraid of a fucking kiss, that’s what he’s got to think. 

You’ve done everything you can think of to stay out of his sight for the last day, although you haven’t noticed any activity over at his house this morning, so it’s safe to assume he’s working today. 

The only interaction you’ve had with him was when you thought you’d caught his eye after you came out of your shower yesterday, wrapped in only a towel. You thought better of it, but you couldn’t help the little power trip that having him see you naked through your window gave you the last time. So, pretending you don’t see him, you drop the towel, parading around your apartment looking for something to wear for the day. You know it was probably too far away for him to see if you made eye contact, but you were careful to not look in his direction too much and give yourself away. You’d left the house with a smug smile, wanting to gain back a little of the power you felt you lost when you’d embarrassed yourself.

You try to keep yourself busy - starting your day with some shopping that’s supposed to be for your new apartment in Austin when you find one, but it ends up turning into clothes shopping, or more specifically, underwear shopping. You bite the inside of your lip, holding up different pairs of sexy underwear, tilting your head as you look at them. Sure, you own plenty of pairs already, but you’re feeling the urge to add to your collection, trying to convince yourself it has nothing to do with Joel despite the passing thoughts wondering which color he’d like to see on you. You decide to call Sofia, your best friend from back in Chicago while you’re ambling through the air conditioned stores, trying to stay out of the house as long as possible. 

“So, if I’m hearing you right, you’re telling me that you're embarrassed because you two kissed? Didn’t you want to kiss him?” Sofia says into your ear, sounding incredulous.

“Ugh, it’s not that. It’s that I fucking jumped when he tried to put his hand on my ass, like some teenage virgin or something,” you groan. 

“I think you’re overthinking it,” she tells you, “Like, it sounds like he was understanding, right?”

“I don’t know, I think so. I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me, I just get crazy when I’m around him. I wish you could just see him and understand what I’m talking about.”

“Yeah, first of all, I can’t believe you haven’t taken any sneaky pics of him for me yet - it’s truly offensive as your best friend that you haven’t shown me apparently the hottest man alive yet,” Sofia starts, and you laugh. “Secondly, I think you need to just… move on from being embarrassed about it. I know that sounds harsh, but seriously, it sounds like he’s into you.”

“I don’t know… how could he be?” you muse, feeling insecure. You’ve just been unable to see what Joel could find alluring in you when he could have someone more put together, more attractive, less shy around him, the list goes on. 

“You’re kidding me… you’re young, you’re hot, and did you already forget the part where he kissed you back and tried to grab your ass?”

You laugh. “Okay, you do have a point, Soph.”

“Of course I do. You’d better get back over there and kiss him again, and don’t even think about texting me or calling me again until you do,” she says, and you scoff in fake hurt. “Okay, not that last part, just kiss him, but please update me every 10 seconds because I miss you.”

“Yeah, yeah, I miss you too,” you say to her with a chuckle, before you wrap up your conversation, knowing she’s right, that it’s really not that big of a deal. You just hate how you feel like you’re constantly embarrassing yourself in front of Joel. By now, it’s the early evening, and you’ve managed to stay away for most of the day, avoiding both Joel and your own thoughts with some good old retail therapy and talking to Sofia. 

You take your dinner outside, a grilled cheese and chips, your favorite summer meal since you were a kid, and sit down on a lounge chair. You sit cross legged with your plate and book in front of you, taking in the way the heat of the day has finally turned into that perfect, comfortable evening temperature. You see no sign of Joel, no lights on at his house, and decide to enjoy a few moments of solitude knowing he can’t spot you right now. You get completely lost in your reading, one of the few reprieves you have these days, so you fail to notice lights flickering on next door until a loud, rumbling laugh catches your attention.

You feel like a deer in headlights as you peer over at the source of the noise and see Joel emerging out of his back door, someone trailing closely behind him. He’s wearing what looks like work clothes, although you haven't seen him dress in a whole lot other than t-shirts and jeans, and he has a six pack of beer in one hand. The other man next to him bears some resemblance, the same dark hair and tan skin, although he has a more boy-ish appearance than Joel does, and you assume it’s his brother that he’d mentioned, Tommy. 

You don’t know if you should move, run, or hide - a real classic flight or… flight situation. Luckily, it seems like Joel is occupied enough with his brother’s visit that his eyes haven’t made it over in your direction at all. You wonder if there’s an occasion, or they’re just having an after work beer, which you somehow find endearing, like everything else he does. They sit down on Joel’s patio table, supposed-Tommy sitting across from Joel, facing your direction. Good, this is good, you think, he doesn’t know who you are, so why would you catch his attention? You’re still trying to decide your next move, but find seeing Joel is a distraction from even that. You decide to try and sneak away without being noticed

“Hey,” Joel says, calling your name with a wave as you’re halfway up the stairs to your apartment. You groan internally, and grimace slightly before turning around. You’ve been spotted, and feel you have no choice but to engage now. You make it to the fence line between your yards, realizing you’re still awkwardly holding your empty dinner plate and book, and that combined with seeing Joel, turned around in his chair, looking at you, makes you already want to sprint away.

“Hi…” you say, trying to speak up but finding it hard right now.

“This is my brother, Tommy, the one I was tellin’ you about,” Joel says, and there’s something different about his voice, but you can’t quite place it yet. You furrow your brow, but then relax your face, not wanting to be rude. Tommy gives a little glance at you, and then Joel, as if trying to piece together why we’d been talking about him.

“Howdy,” Tommy says with a wave and a friendly smile. At the least, he seems disarming enough that your nerves are settled a bit.

“You joinin’ us for a beer, or what?” Joel says, and that’s when you place it. Joel’s is drunk, or at least tipsy. You think they must have had some beers prior to the six pack they’ve just started drinking. You’re not sure what to do with this information, how to feel about it, but you’re intrigued to see this side of Joel. Tommy, completely unaware of your pain, gives you a hopeful smile, urging you to come over. 

“Um, yeah, sure,” you say, and the nervous pit that’s been living in your stomach for days lurches. You want to forget the other day happened, just be normal around Joel, and think that maybe having a drink could be a good start. “Hang on,” you add, holding a finger up before you run up to your apartment, discarding your plate and book, and run back out, not before double checking how you look in the mirror. You scowl a little, feeling like you look spent from your recent sleep deprivation.

You join them a few moments later, awkwardly settling yourself down into one of the chairs. Tommy pulls a bundle of keys out of his pocket, using his bottle opener keychain to crack open one of the beers and starts handing it in your direction before suddenly stopping.

“Wait. You old enough to drink this?” he asks, eyeing you suspiciously. You laugh, not entirely sure if you should feel flattered by the comment. If anything, it makes you feel even more self conscious about the kiss you and Joel shared, your cheeks warm and buzzing just at the memory.

“Oh, yeah, of course. I’m 25,” you respond, and you can see Joel’s gaze shoot over to you as the number comes out of your mouth. You knew he had to have been wondering your age, and while you assumed he had a likely guess, he’s never asked you directly. Tommy gives over the beer to you with a smile now, asking your name. You tell him and he tries to make casual conversation.

“So, I see you and my brother have gotten acquainted then. New neighbors?”

“Kind of,” you say, and you explain the situation with your parents to him.

Tommy laughs, looking over at Joel. “Imagine one of us, doin that with Mom and Dad… whew, we’d have gone crazy. They’re lucky they’ve got a good daughter like you,” he says kindly, and you decide you rather like Tommy now that you’ve met him. He has a welcoming, warm energy that you’re extra appreciative of right now.

Joel chuckles at his brother’s comment, looking between the both of you. “She’s an angel, this one,” Joel says, his gaze landing on you again, and giving a small wink. You smirk and humbly bow your head at their comments. Mostly, you need to get out of seeing Joel’s piercing brown eyes looking at you. 

Tommy continues to ask you questions about your life - your time in college, growing up in San Antonio, what kind of hobbies you have. He’s a fun conversationalist, and he makes you feel listened to, looking at you with interest at every answer you throw at him. You manage to squeeze in a few questions of your own, but it seems like Tommy is more interested in hearing about you. Joel is mostly sitting back, listening, laughing here and there and throwing in some of his own comments. But every time you look over at him, it’s as if he’s just… absorbing you with his eyes, hanging on every word you’re saying about yourself. His stare is intimidating in its own way, and you find yourself equally averting it but unable to keep peeking over at him.

You’re now about two beers deep and can feel the light, warm feeling of it coursing through you. This isn’t so bad, after all, you think - you can totally be normal around Joel after your awkward, embarrassing encounter the other day. You’re lulled into a sense of security, enjoying this evening with the Miller brothers, watching them bicker here and there and just letting the conversation flow naturally. They both have a little color on their cheeks as they laugh hard at some inside joke and memory, your smile growing just at seeing how hard they’re laughing - it’s adorable, you think to yourself with a huge grin.

Your parents must have let Benny out in the yard, because he catches Tommy’s attention as he runs over to the fence line and barks at you, probably wondering what the hell you’re doing over there, and not at home with him.

“Now who’s that cute fella?” Tommy asks you, smiling at Benny wagging his tail and panting by the fence.

“That’s Benny, my parents’ dog,” you tell him.

“Ah…” Tommy says, looking over at Joel knowingly, then right at you. “So you’re the reason my brother was late the other day,” he says with a smirk. You are in the middle of sipping your beer, and you immediately choke at Tommy’s words, the bottle falling out of your hands as you cough. It lands on the table with a loud thud, beer going everywhere - on your clothes, on the table, even some spitting out of your mouth as you choke.

“Oh shit,” you yell out in between coughs, quickly jumping up and standing back, seeing the beer dripping off of you, a large puddle on the table. You’re suddenly very aware of just how tipsy you are from the almost two drinks you’ve had - you forget how much of a lightweight you are sometimes. “S-sorry,” you say, trying to brush some of the liquid off of your arms and shirt, but you just end up making a bigger mess.

Tommy and Joel jump up with little chuckles, quickly ready to begin cleaning up the mess. “S’alright darlin’,” Joel says quickly, “Bathroom’s inside and down to the left, why don’t you go clean yourself up a bit,” he suggests to you, while he and Tommy get to work cleaning the mess with the beach towel he still had outside from the other day when you two got caught in the rain.

You rush off into the house, beer dripping off of you, barely bothering to inspect Joel’s house despite desperately wanting to. The sun has gotten much lower in the sky since you arrived over at Joel’s, so his house is relatively dark, and you search down the hallway clumsily, finding your way to the bathroom. Once the light is on, you blink a few times to adjust, and quickly grab the nearest towel, dabbing your arms dry. It’s not much use, considering your clothes are pretty well soaked, but you wet the towel and try wiping your shirt down a bit anyway. You take a few extra moments to calm yourself, feeling slightly dizzy from the alcohol and the way Joel has been stealing glances at you all evening. One more deep breath and you decide you’ll leave the bathroom, excuse yourself, and head back home to shower and change. Does Tommy know? Your brain is running off with the idea quickly before even having all of the information. Maybe he just meant the part about Joel’s injury, but you can’t help but picture that little smirk he had on his face. Fuck, you can’t stay, you can’t take it anymore, being around Joel like this after knowing what it felt like to kiss him, having Tommy seeming to know about it.

You open the door, steady your feet slightly, and turn down the hallway, and Joel is standing in the shadows, waiting for you. It causes you to jump a little, seeing his broad form just standing, leaning a shoulder against the wall.

“Oh, uh, I can grab some more towels, to help clean up,” you offer, unsure of what he’s trying to do right now, but Joel doesn’t seem to hear you or care, and he approaches you quickly, crowding his body close to you and you end up with your back against the nearest wall. Joel is standing practically up against you, but his hands are still at his sides. He’s trying so hard not to touch you, to grab your hips and pull them against his. to cup your face and crash his mouth into yours. Fuck, he’d said to himself that he was going to let you come to him, but he can’t help it as his hand twitches towards you. 

“You’ve been avoidin’ me, pretty girl,'' Joel says, and he’s slurring a little. He didn’t seem that drunk to you, maybe just buzzed, enough that he’s coming off slightly different than normal. Hearing him call you ‘pretty girl’ sends you speechless, as his pet names always seem to do.

“I - I -“ you stutter, unsure of how to answer. You have been avoiding him, but don’t know how to tell him that, since it seems childish now that you’re faced with it. His large body is pressed so close to yours and you desperately want to lean into it, your mind scrambling completely at the proximity of him. 

“S’okay, sweet girl,” he slurs, sending another pulse of desire through you with another new pet name. His hands slowly come up and rest on your waist, the feeling of his strong hands wrapped around either side of you sends what feels like a jolt of electricity through you.

”I just can’t stay away… said I would, but look at you,” he says, letting his tipsy brain spill all his thoughts as he looks down at you, glancing up and down your body and resting his eyes on your face. “Just tell me what you want, ‘cause I know what I want,” he says teasingly, his voice going lower. 

“And… What do you want?” you finally muster the courage to ask him, lifting your eyes to search his face. You find his dark eyes staring back, lustful and heavy lidded. You gulp down the excited, panicky feeling you seem to continuously get around him and feel your stomach churning with desire.

Joel hums low, the sound deep and suggestive, followed by a small chuckle, pressing his forehead to yours delicately. One hand reaches up from your waist and gently touches your arm, and you can tell he’s holding back, practically restraining himself as his breathing quickens along with your own. 

“You need me to say it?” Joel asks, “Need to hear me say what I wanna do to you?” He groans a little, his hands tightening on your hip and your arm where he’s holding them, pulling you a bit closer to him. 

Your breath catches in your throat a little and you don’t know when, but you’ve started shaking slightly with anticipation. You feel the familiar aching between your legs once Joel’s body is pressed even closer to yours. You can smell the beer and the musk of him as you lean your head slightly, causing your nose to nudge his as you nod slightly, awaiting his answer. You’re curious to know exactly what he wants to do to you, and in fine detail. 

Joel takes a breath in to answer, but a sound from down the hallway towards the kitchen takes you both out of the moment - someone clearing their throat. You gasp and try to leap back from Joel, but the wall is right there, still leaving you at Joel’s mercy. Joel pulls back, but only slightly, as if he doesn’t care that Tommy is standing right there, watching all of this.

“Just came for some paper towels, but I see I’m… interrupting something,” Tommy says cooly, and his tone isn’t like you’d heard before, it’s much less warm and genial. He’s upset, you realize, and you think maybe he has every right to be, knowing how young you are compared to his brother.

“I- I’m so sorry,” you mumble, and to whom you’re apologizing, you’re not even sure. You start to slide out from under Joel’s form, still so dangerously close to you, and his hand falls from your arm, letting you go. “I should, I should go…” you mumble as you brush past him and start rushing towards Tommy to cut through the kitchen to the back door. You stop abruptly, awkwardly near Tommy and without looking him in the eyes, say, “It was nice meeting you,” before making a beeline for the back door. What the fuck had just happened? you think to yourself over and over as you burst through the door to your apartment, standing with your back against it for several moments to try and collect yourself.

“Jesus Christ, Joel, I was joking about her being the reason you were late,” Tommy chides, leaning back against the counter in Joel’s kitchen. “I didn’t realize… whatever the hell that was… was going on.”

Joel sighs, running a hand down his face, his buzz quickly wearing off at his younger brother’s scolding. “Tommy, it’s not anything. I’m gonna need you to mind your damn business for once in your life,” Joel retorts, feeling frustration rising up quickly in his chest.

“Right, just forget I saw that? She’s 25, Joel.” Tommy sets down the beer he was holding on the counter next to him and crosses his arms.

“It’s not that big of a deal, she’s just sweet on me, I think. I was a little drunk and she was… just there,” Joel replies, knowing his argument is weak, falling apart by the minute.

“And so you’re just, what? Egging her on for the fun of it? It ain’t a game, Joel.” Tommy’s tone is getting more serious, gearing up for an argument with his brother.

“God damn it, I realize that, Tommy,” Joel says, his voice rising dramatically. Tommy cocks his head, his eyebrows drawn, studying his brother as the realization begins to dawn on him.

“You don’t… Joel tell me you don’t have feelings for her.” Tommy sighs, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger.

“You don’t think I know it’s wrong? That I wanna be with someone nearly twenty years younger? Fucking hell, brother, I know it.”

“Shit…” Tommy says simply, at a loss for words right now. They stand in an awkward silence, Joel shifting from one leg to another, unsure of where to even go next with this conversation.

“Look, I’ve been trying. To avoid it, that is. Really hard, I’m trying…” Joel trails off, and Tommy looks over at him again, a softer look in his eyes now that he’s coming down from his anger.

“But…” Tommy urges him on.

“Seems you already know. Don’t know if I can stop seein’ her,'' Joel shrugs.

“Listen, you know I’ve done my fair share of stupid shit in my life so I’m not one to talk. She’s a sweet gal, though, and you shouldn’t be fuckin’ around with her like that.”

Joel sighs even more deeply. “I know you aren’t gonna believe me when I say this, but… I want to treat her right, Tommy. It’s not a game to me, swear.”

Tommy looks over at his brother skeptically. Sure, he believes his brother, but can Joel really follow through on that? He isn’t so sure. “My advice? Stay away from her,” Tommy says with finality, taking another swig from his beer. 

“Good thing I didn’t ask for your advice,” Joel says quickly, narrowing his eyes at him. 

“Why do you care so much, Joel? You don’t need to be messing with a young girl’s life, drag her into your shit.”

“First off, it seems she’s interested in me, and she knows she’s not my age, she ain’t stupid. She can make her own decisions.” Joel crosses his arms and stares his brother down.

“And secondly…?”

“She’s a sweet girl, kind, funny, and…beautiful, of course, but that’s besides the point, I think. Somethin’ about her… I can’t explain, Tommy.”

“So it’s more than just wanting to fuck her?” Tommy says, still suspicious of Joel’s intentions.

“I don’t know yet, if I’m honest,” Joel starts, scratching the back of his neck. “I think so. But we haven’t…” Joel admits before he can stop himself, feeling a little color creep onto his cheeks. Tommy sighs again, his frustration still palpable, but he breaks a little bit.

“Jesus, Joel,” Tommy breathes out, pinching the bridge of his nose. “If you’re not going to listen to me, just be careful, please?”

“I will,” Joel says firmly, and he means it. He doesn’t have any intention of hurting you, or messing with your life. He does want to fuck you, very badly, in fact, but he’s pretty sure it’s more than that at this point - he wants to spend time with someone sweet like you, someone who is kind and generous and loving. He’s found during the conversations this evening that he’s more attracted to you than even he realized, and he knows that Tommy is right, he’s completely fucked up for wanting to be with you like that. He knows deep down that his brother’s advice is sound, but after seeing you giggling all evening at their jokes, hearing the passion with which you talk about your hobbies and life, getting close enough to breathe in your delicious scent again, he knows he’s absolutely doomed. There’s no staying away from you.

Mortified doesn’t even begin to cover it. You want nothing more than to hide away forever, and yes, you realize you’re being dramatic, but having Tommy walk in on you and Joel all over each other wasn’t how you’d wanted to end your evening. You practically felt like you’d gone home with your tail between your legs, and you’ve been moping around for the last hour after you’d showered the beer off and changed into your pajamas. A quiet knock on your door before it opens alerts you, and you look up from your bed to see your mother coming in.

“Sorry to bother you, honey,” she starts, stepping tentatively into the room. You sit up on the bed and try to give her your best smile.

“No, that’s alright, mom, what’s up?” you say, your own voice coming out a bit strained sounding to you. She eyes you a little suspiciously, but decides to continue on.

“Just wanted to say hi,” she says, smiling at you, and you realize you’ve been so preoccupied with your own shit that you’ve barely bothered to check in on them when they are home from work. “And I’d just meant to say thank you the other day for fixing that cabinet. You know it was driving me nuts,” she says, straightening up some pillows and blankets on the couch before sitting down. You pause for a moment, debating on what Joel had said about you taking credit, but it felt… awkward to lie about. 

“Actually, it was uh, Joel… Miller from next door,” you admit sheepishly, worried about any follow up questions she might have. You’re not a great liar, and you worry she would see right through you if you tried to hide the way just talking about him makes you giddy, despite the conflict regarding him raging through you right now.

“Oh?” she says, urging you to continue with her head tilting. Your mom’s eyebrows are raised, and she looks absolutely enraptured by what you’re going to say next. She’s a sucker for random acts of kindness, you know. 

“He saw me trying to fix the gate, and then asked if there was anything else we needed help with, so… yeah. He works as a contractor, I guess, so he knew what he was doing. Unlike me.” Your face lights up a little just talking about him but the room is dimly lit enough you think it might hide it from her.

“We’ll have to thank him. That’s awfully nice, isn’t it?” your mom says with a smile, suddenly getting up. “Let me make him something, some cookies, oh, or a pie, and you can bring it over,” she rambles mostly to herself, already halfway to the door to put her plan to action. You groan - she is absolutely insane, thinking about making a whole pie at seven thirty in the evening, you think, rolling your eyes. The thought quickly strikes you that it would be a good excuse to see Joel again if you had a reason to go over to his place, and your heart rate picks up a bit. Maybe it would help, you think, if you were able to just try and talk things out with him. You haven’t stopped thinking about the question he’d asked you earlier - to tell him what you want. 

You think you finally have your answer. You know exactly what you want, and you’re pretty sure that you’re feeling brave enough to tell him tonight. You’re tired of hiding, of feeling too embarrassed to even look at him. You need things to progress one way or another, you decide.

You follow your mom back to the main house, helping her in the kitchen, and about thirty minutes later she has fresh chocolate chip cookies out of the oven and is plating them up with you. Your mother never ceases to amaze you when she gets into a mood like this - she’s one of the most efficient people you’ve ever met. She hands you the cookies with a smile, urging you to go deliver them now. 

“It’s kind of late, don’t you think?” you ask, wanting to make sure you don’t seem too eager.

She frowns a little as she glances at the clock. “I don’t know…” she says, and you can see the familiar overthinking anxiety taking over her instantly.

“That’s alright, mom, I got this. I’ll just run them over right now, I think he stays up kind of late, I’ve seen him out in the yard past eight o'clock before,” you reassure her, half for your own reasons, you think with a hint of guilt.

“Oh, good, thank you, honey,” your mom replies, a relieved grin coming over her face. “I just want to make sure we get off to a good start with our neighbors.” You almost laugh, thinking she doesn’t have to worry about that too much with the things you’re hoping to do with him.

“I’ll probably head back to the apartment and get some sleep after, so we’ll talk tomorrow, okay?” you tell her. You want to have an excuse if in case, and the thought alone makes you want to squeal, anything happens that keeps you at Joel’s longer than they’d expect you to be there. 

You leave out the back door, quickly rushing up to your apartment to change your clothing and get ready. You put on your favorite cropped tank top, tight around your chest, and it’s in a blue color that you think looks great on you. You choose your shortest pair of jean shorts for the bottom of your ensemble, feeling a little ridiculous putting on as little clothing as possible for him. You rush to your mirror, tousling your hair a bit to make sure it looks in place. You can’t believe you’re doing this for what’s supposed to be a quick visit, but you dab on a bit of makeup - some mascara and a hint of blush, just to give you a fresh look. You take a deep breath and smooth your hair one more time before leaving down the stairs, making your way to the front of Joel’s house. You have to do this before you lose your nerve, you think to yourself, mentally urging your shaking hand forward. You inhale one more time before knocking on the door, feeling your stomach flipping with anticipation as it starts to open.

[voidfcllen]

FROM THE INBOX:  ❝ what does it feel like? to lose. ❞ // for Chad 💔/ @fxght4​​​

“In Mario Kart? Devastating, Maurice hit me with a blue shell when I was in first place. The lead in the spring musical? Like I’m about to intentionally plan an ‘accident’ to replace them. Anyway, if you’re looking for Kuki she’s not here today.”

[alexhatessupermarketcola]

My Alex Rider related playlists

ft. some highlight songs from each to somewhat demonstrate the vibe that totally weren't very hard to pick lol

Alex Rider | Scorpia

My only one carefully curated in order - follows the plot of Scorpia loosely from the perspective of Alex - book and show inspired. Angsty and melodramatic

Ft. Death of an Optimist by grandson, Nothing and Everything by Red, The Kill by Thirty Seconds To Mars

Devil: Yassen and Alex

Inspired by The Devil and The Deep Blue Sea by pongnosis. Alex and Yassen centric. Pretty angsty too ft. some badassery

Ft. Exit Music (For A Film) by Radiohead, Dance With The Devil by Breaking Benjamin, Kill or Be Killed by Muse

never too young to die | Alex Rider

My general Alex Rider playlist based around Alex - ft. badass, angst, fun, some show songs and just anything that I think fits tbh

Ft. All These Things I've Done by The Killers, Alive or Only Burning by Blind Channel, Young And Menace by Fall Out Boy

Yasha

My Yassen playlist - focused a lot on his past and arc. Angst and such things with a bit of badassery

Ft. What Happened To You by Black Honey, And The World Was Gone by Snow Ghosts, Love and a Smoking Gun by Des Rocs

Yassen | Two Sides of the Same Coin | Alex

Brand new, as in picking highlight songs for this made me cave 😆 Songs that fit both Yassen and Alex and their canon arcs. There's angst, of course.

Ft. Used To The Darkness by Des Rocs, Beautiful Crime by Tamer

Y+J

My Yassen and John playlist. Anything that I feel fits their unusual dynamic. From Yassen's perspective generally. Yay more angst 😆

Ft. Skeleton Key by Flower Face, Affection by Amber Run, Panic Attack by Halsey (show special for baby!Yassen lol)

Tom and Alex

My tomlex playlist. Equal parts fluff and angst. The playlists are getting shorter now.

Ft. OK by Black Honey, If You Wanna by The Vaccines, Cut the Cord by Black Honey

John Rider, Hunter

Possibly joint shortest. I started this because of two songs I heard. May grow one day.

Ft. Bambi by Tokyo Police Club, Portrait I by The Howl & The Hum

Kyralex

Fluff and angst. Songs that fit them. I never used to ship but after s3 they grew on me, evidenced by this playlist 🥺

Ft. Red Brake Lights by SAINT PHNX, Ride by Amber Run

Kyra Vaschenko-Chao

Possibly the shortest. Need to spend some time on this one because there's a lot I could probably add. Started with two Marina songs that were contenders for a Kyra fanvid I did back in 2020. It's pretty s1 rn.

Ft. Rootless by MARINA, What You Want by Evanescence

laukyra

A relic from 2020 - a Kyra and Laura ship playlist. I wrote a oneshot about them too. This one's actually long but niche so it got demoted down here. Probably best summarised as gay songs and Kyra angst - note to self: add Good Luck Babe 😆

Ft. Darling by Skott, Angela by Flower Face

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0VYfa4E2DF35MRCfsSGshJ?si=BXrsX7F6QzKFtoKgFQjLQQ&pi=3xbJChkiSh-wE

(ran out of proper links because I accidentally made an 11th playlist whilst making this list oops) (so hopefully that laukyra one can be copy pasted lol)

Okay, phew, the end. Please rec any good AR playlists you know/made!!

[helix-enterprises117]

John Halo character bio

Name: John Downes

Aliases: "Master Chief" (callsign), "Ranger" and "Jean/Jaune" (out-of-universe nicknames), "The Operative" (by ONI), John-117 and Sierra-117 (serial-designation), "The Demon" (by the Covenant).

Rank: Major

Age and DOB: 22, March 7th 25,530

Abilities:

Enhanced speed, agility, reflexes, reaction-time, endurance and stamina.

145 IQ and skilled in technology and gadgetry.

Multilingual, including alien languages.

(A recent/upcoming upgrade) MIRAGE-IIC suit allows for temporary holo-decoy creation. Also uses Forerunner energy-cells to power it's overshield.

Night-Vision.

Speicalizes in espionage and scouting.

Personality: Don't let his permanent-resting scowl fool you, John is a kind (if a bit gruff) man whose chip-on-his-shoulder is balanced out by his empathy. He's good with kids and offers a lot of advice despite his young age. He was once an over-achieving control-freak in his child and teen years, but he's long since mellowed out.

Backstory: Born and raised in Fort Elysium on the planet Eridanus-II, where Doctor Halsey took him into Spartan Academy, a military-school designed to train gifted children into noble supersoldiers to combat against the Covenant menace, a threat humanity had been battling since 22,222. John lost Eridanus-II weeks after being sworn in, giving him an unquenchable thirst for vengeance. He was the underdog, and while he's the respected Master Chief (his callsign, not his rank) now, his reputation, accolades and position within the United Nations Star Council DID NOT come easy or naturally, as he had to fight and claw his way to the top.

Relationships: Linda-058 (wife, default AU-canon), Raya Muse (alternate wife, OC AU-canon), Cortana (friend and work-partner).

Facts: He's missing his right eye after getting shot with a plasma pistol by a lucky Jackal who saw him with his helmet off.

Official Character Theme:

[arxchnoverturea]

+ CURIOUS was definitely a good TERM for Annie . She shouldn't have even been OUT that night ; but the VISIONS she'd been having lately were impossible for her to ignore . Even if it meant getting GROUNDED , she had to try and figure out what was going on . And from the FIGURE she'd ran into, she was beginning to WONDER if following the visions had been a good idea after all. Especially with WHO she'd run into.

She'd had so many NIGHTMARES growing up about the creature that had come after her and her mother . Even knowing her father had promised he'd NEVER come back, that hadn't been exactly TRUE . And clearly where TONIGHT was concerned, she wasn't looking at an ILLUSION . " ...oh god, not YOU .... "

@arxchnoverture 𝚠𝚑𝚒𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚎𝚍: ❛ 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐲. ❜ ~from Annie Parker

➾ 𝐋arge, milky white eyes that were fixated on the motionless 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐓 dangling by an ankle now stared directly at the observant red-haired youngling - specifically, the familiar emblem on her garment. A thick, inky black tendril released the unconscious, masked thief without a second thought, receding into their back along with the other tendrils. The body hits the wet sidewalk slab with a harsh thud. Long, slimy tongue gradually retreats into their dribbling mouth. " 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐋𝐘 𝐂𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒, aren't you, little one ? " Almost guttural, barely hushed voice questions. " Forgive us, we were not 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 to be seen. "

[turtlecleric]

Omg thanks for the tag @thelaundrybitch! This is so cool :3

-

Using only song titles of one artist/band, cleverly answer the questions and then tag people

Artist: Fall Out Boy

What is your gender: I Don't Care

How do you feel: Dead on Arrival

If you could go anywhere: Heaven's Gate

Favorite mode of transportation: Dance, Dance

Your best friend: I Am My Own Muse

Favorite time of day: Calm Before the Storm

If your life was a TV show: The Kids Aren't Alright

Relationship status: Alone Together

Your fear: Young and Menace

I'm too lazy to tag people but anyone who wants to play, please do!

[top10statuesthatcriedblood]

inspired by this post, i decided to do a little update to include fall out boy's/patrick's latest releases to his vocal progression :] enjoy! tracklist under the cut

calm before the storm - fall out boy / x

get busy living or get busy dying (do you part to save the scene and stop going to shows) - fall out boy / x

the take over, the breaks over - fall out boy / x

hum hallelujah - fall out boy / x

beat it - michael jackson (fall out boy cover) / x

guilty as charged - gym class heroes (fall out boy cover) / x

what a catch, donnie - fall out boy / x

kiss - prince (cover) / x

black hole sun - soundgarden (patrick & robert glasper experiment cover) / x

save rock and roll (live in london) - fall out boy / x

if i die young - the band perry (feat. patrick) / x

the kids aren't alright - fall out boy / x

twin skeleton's (hotel in NYC) - fall out boy / x

i wanna be like you - "the jungle book" (fall out boy cover) / x

no tears left to cry - ariana grande (cover) / x

church - fall out boy / x

heaven's gate - fall out boy / x

bishop's knife trick - fall out boy / x

young & menace (live piano version) - fall out boy / x

lake effect kid - fall out boy (2018 rerecorded version) / x

deep blue love - patrick stump / x

phantom of the theme park - "dead end: paranormal park" (patrick stump demo) / x

i can make you a man - "rocky horror picture show" (cover) / x

under pressure - queen ft. david bowie (fall out boy cover) / x

i am my own muse - fall out boy / x

so much (for) stardust - fall out boy / x

honorable mentions that i didn't include for other reasons/didn't have time for:

snitches and talkers get stitches and walkers - fall out boy (bonus track with some aggressive patrick vocals mmmm) / x

summer days - martin garrix feat. macklemore & patrick stump (felt like i already covered the pop sound but he sounds nice here) / x

uptown funk - mark ronson ft. bruno mars (fall out boy cover) / x

sound the alarm - stu brooks feat. patrick stump (patrick on a reggae-influenced beat that isnt sunshine riptide!!) / x

sell out - reel big fish cover (for an In Defense of Ska podcast episode, so no full length sadly) / x

close to me - the cure cover (idk the source) / x

[fakeoutbf]

so much for 2ourdust

u.s. leg

magic 8 ball and piano medley songs sorted by date

color coded by album ● repeated songs in bold

tttyg ● futct ● ioh ● fad ● srar ● abap ● mania ● smfs

Feb 28 - Moda Center, Portland, OR, USA

Piano medley

- Young and Menace (First time live since 2018)

- What a Catch, Donnie

Magic 8 Ball song

- G.I.N.A.S.F.S. (Alias: HM)

Mar 1 - Climate Pledge Arena, Seattle, WA, USA

Piano medley

- Allie (Patrick Stump song, first time live since 2011)

- What a Catch, Donnie

Magic 8 Ball song

- Sophomore Slump or Comeback of the Year (Alias: FLANNEL)

Mar 3 - Golden 1 Center, Sacramento, CA, USA

Piano medley

- Golden

- What a Catch, Donnie

Magic 8 Ball song

- 27 (Alias: RAINBOW PETS)

Mar 4 - Honda Center, Anaheim, CA, USA

Piano medley

- I've Got All This Ringing In My Ears and None On My Fingers

- What a Catch, Donnie

Magic 8 Ball songs

- 7 minutes in Heaven (Atavan Halen)

- Good Girls Go Bad (Cobra Starship cover) (with Cobra Starship)

Mar 7 - Dickies Arena, Fort Worth, TX, USA

Piano medley

- What a Catch, Donnie

- Golden

Magic 8 Ball song

- The Kids Aren’t Alright (Alias: BARBIE)

Mar 8 - Moody Center, Austin, TX, USA

Piano/acoustic medley

- It's Not a Side Effect of the Cocaine, I Think It Must Be Love (Live Debut)

- What a Catch, Donnie

Magic 8 Ball song

- Don't You Know Who I Think I Am? (Alias: YIPPIE KAY YAY)

Mar 11 - Paycom Center, Oklahoma City, OK, USA

Piano medley

- Tempted (Squeeze cover)

- I'm Like a Lawyer With the Way I'm Always Trying to Get You Off (Me & You)

- Golden

Magic 8 Ball song

- Tiffany Blews (First time live since 2009) (Alias: ARLO GUTHRIE)

Mar 13 - Legacy Arena at the BJCC, Birmingham, AL, USA

Piano medley

- Just One Yesterday

- Golden

Magic 8 Ball song

- Young Volcanoes (Alias: OLD ICEBERGS)

Mar 15 - Kia Center, Orlando, FL, USA

Piano medley

- Golden

- What a Catch, Donnie

Magic 8 Ball song

- FUCKING ALPHA DOG FUCK ME (Full live debut) (Alias: SHAQ)

Mar 16 - Vystar Veterans Memorial Arena, Jacksonville, FL, USA

Piano medley

- Bad Side Of 25 (Patrick Stump song, first time live since 2011)

- 20 Dollar Nose Bleed (First time live since 2013)

Magic 8 Ball song

- I'm Like a Lawyer With the Way I'm Always Trying to Get You Off (Me & You) (First full live performance since 2014) (Alias: DING DONG)

Mar 19 - PNC Arena, Raleigh, NC, USA

Piano medley

- What a Time to Be Alive

- What a Catch, Donnie

Magic 8 Ball song

- Just One Yesterday (First full live performance since 2014) (Alias: QUESADILLA)

Mar 20 - CFG Bank Arena, Baltimore, MD, USA

Piano medley

- I Can't Wait (Hepcat cover)

- 20 Dollar Nose Bleed

- Golden

Magic 8 Ball song

- Miss Missing You (Alias: CRABBY CAKES)

Mar 22 - Madison Square Garden, New York, NY, USA

Piano medley

- Spidey and His Amazing Friends (Patrick Stump song, live debut)

- What a Catch, Donnie

- Just One Yesterday (Full song, with Daisy Grenade)

Magic 8 Ball songs

- Get Busy Living or Get Busy Dying (Do Your Part to Save the Scene and Stop Going to Shows) (Full live debut) (Alias: BAKED ZITI)

- Slow Down (The Academy Is… cover) (with William Beckett) (Alias: GABAGOOL)

Mar 24 - MVP Arena, Albany, NY, USA

Piano medley

- The Kintsugi Kid (Ten Years)

- What a Time to Be Alive

Magic 8 Ball song

- I Am My Own Muse (Alias: FLOPPY BUNNIES)

Mar 26 - Van Andel Arena, Grand Rapids, MI, USA

Piano medley

- Run Dry (X Heart X Fingers) (Patrick Stump song, first time live since 2011)

- I’ve Got All This Ringing In My Ears and None On My Fingers

Magic 8 Ball song

- FUCKING Wilson (Expensive Mistakes) (First time live since 2018) (Alias: MOMS SPAGHETTI)

Mar 27 - PPG Paints Arena, Pittsburgh, PA, USA

Piano medley

- Heart Transplant (Punchline cover)

- What a Catch, Donnie

- Golden

Magic 8 Ball song

- The Music or the Misery (First time live since 2006) (Alias: DUQUESNE INCLINE)

Mar 29 - Value City Arena, Columbus, OH, USA

Piano medley

- What a Time to Be Alive

- What a Catch, Donnie

Magic 8 Ball song

- Fourth of July (First time live since 2017) (Alias: FIONA THE HIPPO)

Mar 30 - Rupp Arena at Central Bank Center, Lexington, KY, USA

Piano medley

- I’ve Got All This Ringing In My Ears and None On My Fingers

- What a Catch, Donnie

Magic 8 Ball song

- The Kintsugi Kid (Ten Years) (Alias: HARD HATS)

Mar 31 - Bridgestone Arena, Nashville, TN, USA

Piano medley

- You Never Even Called Me by My Name (David Allan Coe cover)

- Spotlight (Oh Nostalgia) (Patrick Stump song)

- Golden

Magic 8 Ball song

- Jet Pack Blues (First full live performance since 2018) (Alias: BOOT GOOFIN)

Apr 2 - Fiserv Forum, Milwaukee, WI, USA

Piano/acoustic medley

- Celestial Lights (Uncle Barnaby cover)

- What A Fool Believes (The Doobie Brothers cover)

- Spotlight (Oh Nostalgia) (Patrick Stump song)

- What a Catch, Donnie

- Golden

Magic 8 Ball songs

- Get Busy Living or Get Busy Dying (Do Your Part to Save the Scene and Stop Going to Shows) (Alias: HIGH BLOOD PRESSURE)

- Pavlove (Alias: LAVERN & SHIRLEY)

Apr 3 - Wells Fargo Arena, Des Moines, IA, USA

Piano/acoustic medley

- Nobody Puts Baby in the Corner

- I've Got All This Ringing In My Ears and None On My Fingers

- What a Catch, Donnie

Magic 8 Ball song

- What a Time to Be Alive (Alias: GROOVE METAL)

Apr 5 - CHI Health Center Omaha, Omaha, NE, USA

Piano medley

- Bishops Knife Trick (Live Debut) (Patrick when i get your fucking ass)

- What a Catch, Donnie

- Golden

Magic 8 Ball song

- “From Now On, We Are Enemies” (Alias: STEAK NIGHT)

Apr 6 - Target Center, Minneapolis, MN, USA

Piano medley

- Bleed (Animal Chin cover)

- 7-9 Legendary (Live Debut)

- Purple Rain (Prince cover)

- What a Catch, Donnie

Magic 8 Ball songs

- Honorable Mention (First time live since 2007) (Alias: HARAMBE)

- Get Busy Living or Get Busy Dying (Do Your Part to Save the Scene and Stop Going to Shows) (Alias: GRANDMA)

- The Carpal Tunnel of Love (First time live since 2008) (Alias: CATDOG)

- Rat a Tat (with CARR) (Live Debut) (Alias: RUMPLESTITSKIN)

- The Kids Aren’t Alright (Alias: KROGER, CHAD KROGER)

- Wilson (Expensive Mistakes) (Alias: WOOT WOOT)