#Constantine grabbed the boy before any deals could be made

[minty364]

DPXDC Prompt #142

It was considered a pretty big deal when a new ancient gets born. Danny didn’t and wouldn’t know this when he gets into an accident. A signal went out to all magic users that the ancient of space was born as soon as he stepped out of the portal and then things changed. If you could make a deal with an ancient it increased your power way more than that of a demon. Soon Danny gets chased by all sorts of folk trying to make a deal with him. He then gets caught by John Constantine who takes him back to the safety of the watchtower. What is the safest place to put the space ancient? In space!

[bluejaysandblackbats]

Lost Boys

Fandom: DC Comics, Batfam, Superfam

Summary: After Jonathan Lane Kent wipes himself from existence by canceling his own timeline, he finds himself stuck in the afterlife where he meets Jason Todd. He still wonders about the life un-lived on Earth, and how his parents would've felt about him.

Jason Todd, who is making the most of being dead, struggles with the reality of what he's left behind. He has one wish and one wish only: to send his family one final message.

Chapters: 10/?

Characters: Jonathan Lane Kent (Laney), Jason Todd, Catherine Todd, Boston Brand, Bruce Wayne, Clark Kent, Lois Lane, John Constantine, Raven, Talia al Ghul, Ra's al Ghul, Dick Grayson, Tim Drake

Relationships: Platonic JayLaney

Additional Tags: Angst, Platonic Relationships, Magical Jason Todd, Resurrected Jason Todd, Queerplatonic Relationships, Canon Divergent AU, POV Multiple

Chapter Ten: Don't Dream It's Over (Jason's POV)

If I had known Dick was driving us back home, I would've said no. It wasn't that I couldn't stand him. It was that I'd never spent that kind of time with him before. "Jason, please stick your arm back in the window," Dick commanded gently. I obeyed and rolled my window up. Laney nudged me from the middle of the bench seat. Yes, the car's bench seat. My brother's car was that old. "What's wrong?" "I'm fine," I mumbled. I wasn't. I was bored, and it was making me angry.

Dick pulled into an empty lot in the middle of nowhere and got out of the car. "Wanna drive for a little bit?" Dick asked. I nodded and got in the driver's seat. "I should've asked earlier... I know you're not a kid anymore, but it's hard to get past... The past." I buckled my seatbelt and started driving. I didn't know what to say to Dick. "Say thank you," Laney whispered. "Dick? Thank you," I whispered. Dick smiled. "How's your friend, Laney, doing?" Dick asked. Laney gave me a thumb's up. "You wanna talk to him, don't you? See that he's real?" I asked. Laney chuckled, and I messed up his hair. "Cut it out," Laney laughed. I liked hearing his laugh. "Jason? Could I take—? Can I try to borrow your body?" I made a little noise of disgust before laughing at him. "Promise never to use that wording again, and it's a deal," I replied, "You've got thirty minutes." Laney grabbed my hand, and I felt for a moment as if I was going to pass out, and once that passed, I was outside my body. It felt strange being weightless. I watched him as he tried to readjust to possessing my physical body, and the first thing he did was roll down the window and puke. Dick pulled over, and Laney pressed my palms against my eyelids. "Sorry, I'm Laney..." He reached over me and shook Dick's hand. "I didn't expect this to be as pain—." "Thirty minutes, Lane," I interrupted. I didn't want anyone to know I had any kind of pain. It wasn't worth worrying about. "So, did you and Jason date—?" "No. Why does everyone think we dated? If he was just a boyfriend, I wouldn't have followed him all this way, and I wouldn't put up with his stubbornness the way I do. I mean, I love him, but it's different than that kind of love," Laney confessed. It was weird hearing him talk with my voice. "He's my best friend." "What was he like in the afterlife?" Dick asked.

"He was the first person I met there. All he ever did was try to make me happy... But he was also a lot like he is now. That's what makes it so easy to deal with him when he's being stubborn. We used to go swimming and flying, and we ate dinner with Catherine every day—." "His mom? What's she like?" Dick asked. He was really interested. Laney lay his head back and took a breath. "Jason's so much like her... If you look at Jason and you see who he is—. Who he really is, you see her," Laney whispered. I got a little misty-eyed, and I turned my head. Laney looked at me. "Don't get a big head, Jason—." "Thanks, Lane," I whispered. "Did he talk about us to you?" Dick asked. "All the time. He used to talk about you guys all the time. I can't really say because he'll take his body back, but he cares about you both so much more than he'll ever admit to," Laney whispered, "Oh, he did have a question for you specifically... Did you mean what you said to him about being on the team if that's what he really wanted?" "Is that what he still wants?" Dick asked. Laney looked at me, and I shook my head. "He's not sure. I'm glad I finally got to talk to you... You know, Dick, I'd love to stay and chat, but I think I'll give Jason his body back now," Laney replied before grabbing my hand. I felt like I was being sucked back into my body. I almost forgot the feeling of pain in my shoulders and the pain in my head. "Jason, are you in pain like that all the time?" Laney asked. "Jason?" I nodded, and Laney pulled at a few strands of my hair. "Cut that shit out," I mumbled as I looked out the window. "I can't believe being in my body was such a visceral experience for Lane that he puked."

"Shut up," Laney whispered. Dick took a sip of soda and started driving. "He really seems like he cares about you. Jason, are you okay?" Dick asked. "I mean, I just want-. Jason, you never told me what your plans were once we get to Gotham." "I haven't decided yet," I whispered, "Mind if I drive after the next stop?" "You can drive whenever you want... If you get some sleep," Dick replied. I turned back toward the window. "If you get two good hours of sleep, I'll hand the keys over." I crossed my arms and closed my eyes. Dick knew he wouldn't get two uninterrupted hours of sleep from me, let alone a good fifteen-minute cat nap, but I was willing to try. I felt someone watching me, and I opened my eyes. I was looking at Bruce, but he looked right through me. I looked around and realized the only place I could've been looking from was the picture on the mantle of Bruce and me at a baseball game. I couldn't move myself to speak. I wondered if Bruce still thought of me. I loved him so much, and I assumed he'd moved on completely. "Jason?" Laney whispered, and I took a sharp breath in and woke up in the car. "Are you alright?" Dick got in the car and looked at me. "What happened?" Dick asked. I rolled the car window down and let the cool air hit me. "I saw Bruce," I whispered breathlessly, "I saw him. He was looking at the mantle, and I was—." "Jason, we're in the middle of Colorado right now," Dick whispered, "But maybe you did see him... Are you alright?" Laney lay his head on my shoulder. "You'll be okay," Laney reassured me. Seeing the look in Bruce's eye made me remember that he wasn't just Batman to me. He was my father, and I missed him more than anything. "Dick, I think I want to see him," I whispered.

[slumberingcorpse]

A Date with Destiny

John Constantine/Bruce Wayne

Part 1

Summary: After years of physically and mentally training abroad, Gotham’s missing young prince, Bruce Wayne is finally heading back home, but not before spending some months in London where he encounters the rugged and yet charming John Constantine.

The finishing line is in view. After years of being away, Bruce was finally heading home, and yet, he feels uneasy. Is he truly ready? Can he truly avenge his parents? Take down Gotham’s biggest crime families and restore Gotham’s good name? Or is it all for nothing? Is all this just some rich boy’s pipe dream to cope with the fact that his parents were murdered in front of him?

Alfred’s last words to him echo in his head, “Your parents would want you to be happy.” When was the last time he felt happy? All he can remember is training and studying. There was no time for childish games or making friends. Bruce had felt loneliness and pain but hardly any happiness. He was already in his twenties and yet hasn’t even had his first kiss though there were a few who he wanted to. There wasn’t enough time, there was never enough time to explore romance. By the time he had even realized his romantic feelings, his things were packed, and the plane tickets were bought for the next flight. No, there wasn’t time to be happy.

Bruce’s head was spinning. He wasn’t sure if it was jet lag or his anxiety. Either way, it was hard to focus.

“Sir? Sir?” a soft voice calls out snapping Bruce out of his paranoid thoughts, “Umm...yes?” he asks turning towards the voice. It was one of the flight attendants, not much older than himself. Pretty green eyes, straight brown hair brushed into a tight bun. She was pretty and from the blush, on her cheeks, it seemed that she found Bruce quite easy on the eyes as well. Sadly, Bruce wasn’t in the mood. Again, there wasn’t any time for such things.

“Umm...we landed sir. We need you to leave the plane,” She informs tugging on her uniform sleeves anxiously.

Bruce’s eyes widen as he realizes he was the only passenger left on the plane. How could he have not noticed that before?

“R-right...I’m sorry,” Bruce muttered unconsciously as he quickly gets up and grabs his suitcase. Traveling so much had made Bruce frugal. Only the necessities were packed. Two causal outfits to wear and one suit in case of a special occasion. Everything else was disregarded as unimportant and would be left behind.

Making his way out of the plane and airport made his head throb. So much noise, so many people, everything happening. It was an overwhelming chaos that makes one wonder if they were actually in hell. Bruce managed to make a quick escape through the swarm of people and cut through the noise to finally settle down in a cab.

It reeked of cigarettes, vomit, and liquor but at least it was quiet.

“Where are you heading to?” the driver asks as he lights a cigarette.

Bruce wrinkles his nose at the smell but does his best to stay polite “The Bulgari Hotel, please.”

The cabby whistles, “Pricey place. You royalty or somethin’?”

“Or something...” Bruce coldly answers being too exhausted for small talk. Alfred would have a fit if he ever found out but then again, he was an ocean away.

By the time Bruce made it to his room, he was too tired to do anything else other than sleep. Upon entering, he carelessly tossed his case aside and toed off his shoes before finally flopping on the silk-sheeted king-size bed.

Bruce moaned in ecstasy at the feeling of the soft cushion under him. It had been so long. For years he had to deal with lumpy old beds that reeked of dust and were, most likely than not, covered in bedbugs. And that’s when he did get a bed. More often than not, he would have to sleep on the floor and sometimes was given an old blanket. But that doesn’t matter now, he finally had a bed. A real soft and warm bed with freshly washed silk sheets. It was truly heaven.

Wrapping himself in those heavenly sheets, Bruce quickly falls asleep with the biggest smile on his face. Of course, like everything else, it didn’t last. His smile faded into whimpers.

It’s that night again. Two bangs. First was his father then his mother. There was so much blood. He wanted to run, to scream, but instead, he just stood there, frozen. There’s nothing he can do. He hears the shooter walk closer and cock his gun again. The man aims his gun at him, but he doesn’t shoot. Instead, he walks away. Why? Why did he walk away? Leaving a witness no less? Why? Why? Why?

Why did he have to be the one to live?

Bruce jolts awake in a panic. His heart hammered against his chest, his chest tightened, his body trembled, and beads of cold sweat ran down his face.

“I-I’m okay...I’m in London...in a hotel...tenth floor...room 345...” Bruce muttered to himself forcing himself to take deep breaths. He thought he’d be used to them by now, the nightmares. Back home, Alfred would always hold him. Squeeze him tightly as he listed off different items around his room. To ground him, to help him realize he wasn’t in a crime alley anymore, that he was safe. Alfred isn’t here now though. He was alone, in a strange place, in a strange bed, and even though he was a thousand miles away from that damned alleyway, he was still there, frozen and covered in his parent’s blood.

Unable to stay another second in the room, Bruce quickly put on his shoes and left to wander the streets of London.

He looked awful and disheveled. Nothing befitting the high standards of Gotham royalty. Not that it mattered here in London. He was a nobody here. Just another stranger on the street, hell, with how he looked some may think he was a drunkard or junkie.

Bruce mindlessly stumbled along the London streets. His whole body ached, his head was still throbbing, and it wasn’t until now that he realized that he was starving. When was the last time he ate?

Suddenly the smell of food caught his attention. Following the scent, he found himself in an old cramped pub filled to the brim with all types of people. Leather jackets, ripped jeans, colorful mohawks, and combat boots. All crammed into one location Bruce has never seen something like this before.

At the end of the pub was a small stage where an unknown band played. In center stage was the lead singer, a blonde guy with gelled-up hair, ripped jeans, a black leather choker, and a tee shirt with Mucus Membrane plastered on it. Next to him was the bassist and guitarist with a similar style and behind them was the keyboardist and drummer.

The lead singer’s voice was quite nice but other than that, the band was god awful. Even some of the crowd seemed to notice, the sober ones at least. Bruce paid it no mind though, instead, he made his way to the bar and ordered some fish n’ chips.

He sat there and waited for his food all while watching the band continue. Something was charming about them. It was obvious that they were attempting to make some sort of music but were falling short. It was more inspiring if anything.

“Here’s your food, sir,” the bartender says placing the food basket in front of him. Bruce’s mouth watered at just the sight. When was the last time he had eaten any sort of greasy food? 2? 4 years?

It was pure desperation that drove Bruce to just tear into the piece of fried fish. Alfred would have a heart attack seeing his appalling table manners, but he didn’t care. It was food. Greasy, fatty, junk food.

“Easy there, luv, you’ll choke eating like that.” A hoarse voice tells him. Looking up, Bruce comes face to face with no other than the lead singer of the band. Up close, it was obvious that he was around the same age as him though he was a few inches shorter than him. He was very handsome though.

Bruce slowly swallows his last bite, “Sorry, it’s been a while since I last ate.”

“Oh? Is that what you Americans are doing now? Starving yourselves before scarfing down some fish n’ chips in a rundown pub?” the singer chuckles before sitting beside him and extending his hand, “John Constantine.” he greets with a sly grin.

Bruce stares at his hand for a moment before wiping his hands clean with a napkin and shaking Constantine’s hand. It was shockingly warm and yet callus, very similar to his own but Bruce doubts John’s hands were due to rigorous training.

“I’m Bruce...Pennyworth...” he greets. The last thing he wants is the media to be dogging him besides, Alfred was practically a second father to him.

“Well, then Pennyworth. What brings you all the way over to good old London?” John asks swiping a chip out of Bruce’s basket.

“Vacation. My...father...says I should take some time off. To enjoy my youth so to speak...or what’s left of it. What about you? Why are you here?” Bruce asks watching John carefully.

John smirks at the question, “What do you mean? I’m from here.” Bruce could’ve sworn that his eyes sparkled in the low light.

“That’s not true. Your accent. It’s from Liverpool isn’t it?”

Constantine chuckles, “Handsome and smart. Quite the combination.” he says mischievously smiling as he slowly moves his foot up Bruce’s leg.

A shiver goes down Bruce’s spine. His cheeks heat up. Is he being flirted with? He wasn’t prepared for this and yet he didn’t dislike it.

John leans over and hovers his mouth over his ear. Bruce’s heart skips a beat, “How about we get some drinks?” he suggests. His hot breath tickled the hairs at the back of his neck. He smelt like cigarettes and strong liquor and yet there was also the scent of strong herbs and scented candles.

Bruce’s mouth was dry. The other’s scent was making him dizzy. Who the hell is this guy? How can he be reduced to this so quickly? How can he make him stay?

Finally finding the words to say, Bruce opens his mouth but is only interrupted by another man calling Constantine.

“Enough fooling around John! Time to go!” the man calls out.

John sighs and pulls away, “Alright, alright, I’m coming.” he grumbles before turning back to Bruce, “Maybe next time, Pennyworth.” he says before quickly leaving with his bandmates.

Bruce’s eyes follow Constantine out the door. His heart was still pounding. He can still feel his breath against his neck, what did that man do to him?

Next part: Part 2

[thatlittlered]

Return | The Witcher

“Weren’t expecting me?”

“I never do.”

“I thought you’d be happier to see me.”

“I thought I would see you more often, but as you so kindly like to point out, I might just be the most naïve of persons.”

“You know how it is.”

You do know. There’s this unspoken agreement that he can borrow your heart and body and give them back before sunrise. Except he went back on his part of the deal long ago. He kept the former.

He flinches and you notice.

“Are you harmed?”

“Barely.”

“Then why are you here?”

“… For you.”

“Let me see.”

His shirt is soft under your fingertips, expensive linen. You dare not ask how he acquired it and focus instead on the blood stains all over. Lifting it seems like the worst of ideas, and yet you do it anyways.

You damn your own soul like it’s nothing.

“Barely, my ass. This will need stitches.”

His responding grunt lights something inside you.

“Why come here? It’s not deep enough to be dangerous and the area is within reach, you could do it yourself. I’ve seen you take care of worse.”

“I told you… I’m here for you.”

“Aren’t I lucky?”

His eyes follow you, along with his body. He stands tall and wide and firm in front of you, unwavering and unflinching as you pierce the tender skin and pull the needle through. And yet, his head hangs low, closer to your height as if he’s trying to cover some distance.

“Go sit on the bed, you’re blocking out all the light.”

He doesn’t complain, your sweet Geralt. Always the source of your agony, the path to your doom.

You’re standing heartbreakingly close, his thigh grazing your knee and breaths matching in the silence.

His head drops again, looking for something.

“You always smell so good.”

“Stop distracting me, or it’ll leave a scar.”

“Won’t be the first.”

Geralt’s hand reaches for yours. Never grabs, never demands. He lays your palm on his cheek and you wonder just how many women he’s allowed to do that.

The answer is none.

“Tell me you missed me.”

There’s something about his voice... he could ask you to jump your death and you’d happily do it. Not that all of this is any less painful.

“Tell me you need me.”

He kisses your pulse and revels in your life; the fragile and beautiful humanity of you.

Breathing seems harder every second.

“There’s this man…”

He lets your hand drop. Everything hurts.

“… from the village. He asked for my hand in marriage.”

There’s no reply, just heavy breathing and raw emotion hanging in the air.

“He’s a good boy, real sweet. Seems crazy about me – he even helped with my garden this winter-“

“Is he a man or a boy then?”

“Geralt…“

“And what did you say?”

“I haven’t given him an answer yet. I told him I needed some time and he was fine with that.”

“He must be keeping himself pretty busy then.”

“Not all men are like that, Geralt!”

“And I am?”

“I don’t know, you tell me.”

He scoffs, body rushing off the bed in a manner that must pull the stitches, but if it hurts, he makes no move to show it.

“Do you love him?”

“No.”

“But you’re willing to marry him?”

“I don’t know.”

His palms are warm on your face, warm and all-consuming as he cradles your cheeks, foreheads touching in the silent battle of your hearts screaming love at each other.

“And what about me? I need you.”

“You don’t need me, Geralt, you’re more than capable of looking after yourself. I need to do the same.”

“That’s not what I meant. I need you to be here, I need you to be mine.”

“I can’t be yours if you can’t be mine.”

“…but you want to.”

He kisses you and you let him.

You let him take you, your body awakening with a desire that’s been so deeply rooted inside you. Lips touch again and again and your skin remembers nothing but the feeling of his by the time he’s done.

All you know now is this sweet sensation; the warmth of his body a salve to the wounds he himself has caused in your entire being. He holds you impossibly close, chests and stomachs and everything touching.

His silence is nothing new. You’re always happy to talk instead, but it seems awfully difficult this time. You opt to trace his scars instead and everything inside him softens. For once, your souls are just as naked and in sync as your bodies.

“This one is new… so is this one.”

“You sound surprised.”

“I think ‘worried’ is the word you’re looking for.”

Silence washes over you again. You can’t help but wonder what he’ll do to ruin it this time.

“This man-boy… will he fuck you this good?”

There it is. He’s sealed his fate and he knows it.

“No, but he won’t be gone come morning either.”

You make to untangle yourself from his embrace, unable to understand what kind of sick pleasure he derives from toying with your feelings.

His grip is firm on you.

“I missed you. I need you. I’m crazy about you.”

“You have a funny way of showing it.”

“I don’t know how else.” He whispers it like a guilty child, desperate for your forgiveness.

“Stay.”

The golden of his eyes darkens. His mind is made.

Turns out he can appreciate the sunrise better from your windows.

Return often and take me,

Beloved sensation, return and take me

When the memory of the body awakens,

And old desire runs against through the blood;

When the lips and the skin remember

And the hands feel as if they touch again

 Return often and take me at night

When the lips and the skin remember…

                Return - Constantine P. Cavafy

A/N: Started making this... had a breakdown... bon appétit.

Tags: @ateliefloresdaprimavera @xcharlielechefx @sunflowersandstringlights​ @memyselfandmaddox​ @geeksareunique​ @thepoet1975 @laneygthememequeen​

[devotedwaywardangel1]

Of Treaties and Nervous Rekindling

Leon x Male!Reader

Fandom: BBC Merlin

Word count: 1667

Warnings: Nightmares

A/N: This is a third try of writing this as they kept turning to multi chapter stories, if I turn the original into a multi chapter fic I’ll post it on AO3. See if you can find the small film reference.

Tagged: @fandom-star​

~~~~~~~

Being in the great hall has got to be the stupidest thing that you have ever done and there is a long list. If Constantine, your idiotic King, got us killed out of good intentions you swear to Furies that you’ll kill him in the after life. A black domino mask covers your face as you kneel at King Arthur’s fury. He is yet to know who you all are yet and boy he is going to have a heart attack, fun times. Sloane has her raven black hair covering her face as she is shoved to her knees, making you growl at the cocky knight who thought he could be boastful. Zathrian’s auburn hair has been un-neatened by an almost comically large man. King Arthur’s voice booms across the hall. “Who are you and what is your business in Camelot?”

“I am Constantine, King of Dumnonia.” He speaks in an authoritative tone. 

“What?” The King seems shocked

“A letter was sent informing you of our arrival a month ago, we are here to simply renew a treaty.” 

“Merlin! Get the documents on my desk now.” He growls.

A scrawny servant runs from the King’s side past you. Minutes later he and other knights enter and you see Leon. It had been over a decade since you last saw him and damn he grew up, probably taller than you now, hair hasn’t changed one bit. You’re now thankful for the mask you were wearing otherwise he would have known it’s you straight away. The serving boy hands the king the letter and you can see the embarrassment on his face as it proves your innocence.

“I apologise for the misunderstanding, we thought-” The King started 

“That we were here to kill you, don’t flatter yourself.” Sloane snaps.

“Slo, play nice.” Constantine tells her sternly before standing up.

You follow suit. “It was an honest mistake, do you want to try again on the first impressions.” Constantine rensures.

The King looks shocked, but having Uther as a parent would make him think he was going to be punished for a mistake such as this. You brush yourself off, in an attempt to be somewhat presentable. “That would be appreciated, your Majesty.” Arthur nods.

They made their introductions but you were busy scowling at the now apologetic looking knight, Gwaine, who shoved Slo on the ground. Until she elbows you in the ribs causing you to grunt and childishly stick your tongue at her. She flicks your nose and laughs as it scrunches up. Zathrian is smiling. “Behave.” Constantine turns around after shaking the King’s hand to scold us. 

“But…” Zath tries.

“No buts or ifs. My apologies, they are children I swear.”

“What are your names?” Gwen asks, you didn’t even sense her coming in the room.

“Zathrian, m'lady.” He bows down respectfully.

“Sloane.” She nods.

“Ulrich Von Liechtenstein.” you smile coyly, why you said that you don’t know.

Zath and Slo double over laughing and Constantine gives you a glare but you just shrug it off. “That’s not his name, he just thinks he’s funny.” 

“(Y/n), at your service sir and on the contrary I’m hilarious.” You smile, removing your mask stuffing it into a trouser pocket.

You look at Leon and he is smiling, oh gods that smile it felt like everything good in this world smacks you in the face. You smile back. “(Y/n)? Your name sounds familiar.” Arthur asks.

“It should, your father did torture me after all.” I raise my eyebrow, where is my damn filter you think. All traces of happiness dissipate from your face with all fairness. You do look scary when you appear monotonous. 

“What do you mean?” He asks, you turn to get Constantine’s approval he nods.

“I used magic to save a child’s life.” 

“You have magic.” He looks at you with anger and disgust.

“Yes, sire.” You remain stoic with your jaw tensing.

The knights of Camelot tense up, Leon eyes them before looking at you. That's when you know he doesn’t hate you. He’s worried. You shake it off and bow down at the King’s feet and mercy. If he were to kill you a war may start but it would be against a dishonorable man, if he shows mercy and a willingness to learn there is hope for Albion yet. “Rise, I wish to understand not to do harm.”

“Oh thank Clementia, really I thought I was going to die.” Shit that was out loud.

“One condition, it's not to be used to harm any one.” He adds.

“I can't, my magic lies in the art of healing, transformation and a few other things.” You explain.

“What do you mean?” The king asks 

“Everyone’s magic is different, I can’t use spells that purposely inflict harm unless threatened.” You shrug.

“Good to know.” He seems to relax.

“That’s why I stab people instead.” You smile.

“(Y/n)! Stop trying to be funny. It will get you killed!” Constantine nearly shouts.

The knight with shoulder length hair starts to laugh hysterically. You just smile and look down holding in your laugh, looking at Leon he’s smiling. Constantine looks ready to cry, out of frustration probably. The King is unable to respond. Zath grabs my shoulder and pulls you out. “Us two are leaving before the wanna be Menander kills himself.” He drags you out without another word.

You sigh in relief as the doors of the great hall close behind you. “Thanks I couldn’t stop.” You rub that back of your neck awkwardly.

“No problem, tavern?” He suggests.

“Are we allowed to go without Slo?” You ask seriously.

“It gives an opportunity for Constaloane to happen.” Zath justifies.

“Fair lets go.” You agree.

~~~~

Both of you came back after a couple of tankards and Zath is drunk off his ass, lightweight. While you’re a little fuzzy. You spot the serving boy from the hall. “Kid!” You catch his attention.

He turns around smiling as he walks up to you. “Hi can I help you, Sirs.” He asks.

“Don’t worry about titles, but could you show us to our rooms if we have them.” 

“Of course, follow me.” He whispers seeing Zath close to asleep on you.

You drag Zath to his room, and put him on the bed. “Thank you…”

“Merlin, Sir (Y/n).” He smiles and nods.

“Thank you Merlin.” You return the smile.

You enter the guest room and collapse onto the bed and sleep overcomes you in a matter of seconds.

A crack of a whip resonates through a dark cell a pained groan follows, another crack and another. Chains rattle as a boy pulls on them in an attempt to break free. High pitch whistling signaled trouble brewing under the surface. The boy’s skin started to crack golden light seeping from the cracks turning pure black. (E/c) eyes started to well up with tears as he felt himself being torn apart. Screams erupt from his throat and the boy is replaced with a mass of hissing black smoke.

You bolt up sweating and panting. You groan and stretch, the sun is peeking over the horizon so you decide to change into your armour and head over to the training field that you had spotted the previous day. There is a training dummy already set up, you draw your sword and begin hacking into it aggressively and it takes mere minutes for you to destroy it, yet you feel no better. You look around desperately for something to take out your rage, fear and sorrow on. You hear a cough, your head snaps at the direction of the noise. It's Leon. He walks up to you slowly as if you were a scared animal. “(Y/n), we didn’t get a chance to talk yesterday.”

“Sorry.” You look to your feet.

He backtracks quickly “No it’s not an issue, obviously you were nervous being back here.”

“Eh you know, son of Uther kinda scary.”

“Arthur has grown.”

“I know.”

“But I’m not here to talk about Arthur.”

You smile and shake your head. “I suppose not.”

“You left without me, why?”

Well that escalated from a trot to a full on gallop. But you manage to get words out. “I couldn’t uproot you from your home and family.”

“That should have been my choice to make.”

“You know what, I don’t feel bad if that’s what you want. I was tortured, I got literally torn apart. You would have got killed, and that would have been on me!” You defend.

He looks taken aback. “What?” 

“Slave traders, I suppressed my magic then boom… a lot of people died.”

He touches your face and you want to lean into the touch but you can’t seem to. So he initiates the hug instead keeping you in a tight hold, you hesitate to return it seeing it has been a while since you’ve been held. You both stay like that for a while, before Leon breaks the hug with a heartbroken expression. You dread what he is about to say. ”Do you think we could ever be possible?”

“I don’t know… I’m not the same man you loved all those years ago.” 

“Then let’s get to know each other again, let me fall for you all over again.”

“Sounds like you already started.”

“I started as soon as I saw you smile.”

You smile up at him. But inside you are conflicted, if this were to work out how will it work. You love your new life, Constantine is more than just your King he is your friend he gave you a chance when no one else would. Sloane was the one who pulled you out of rubble after you exploded. Zathrian forge your nobility papers to get your foot through the door of knighthood. But you guess you’ll cross that bridge later and pray it goes well for the both of you. 

“Come on we have a treaty to deal with.” You start walking.

[blissfulalchemist]

"we've lost so much time" for hypatia/conner? <3

Okay so this was going to be so much longer (like 5k kind of long) but the other time I wanted to use this line I realized wasn’t going to fit so you get like half of what would be a chapter. Lo Siento. But it’s still pretty long. (◕‿◕)♡

I needed to buy a burner phone, or at least something separate from the three I currently had. Two for the Alchemists, because it was better for them to just pay for a personal cell phone now along with one for work, and the one that was for only Abe and my mom. Four, I was on to four phones now that Tia finally called me. Seven months of silence from her, I would have worried more about her but it seemed she kept the crystal keychain. I could at least always tell she was alive when I could check in, a small blessing with her.

She wanted to meet up with me in person, three days and she’d be back in St. Louis, not the smartest decision if you asked me. She needed to stay away from here as much as possible, she shouldn’t have even been contacting me really, not that it ever stopped her before. I sigh as I open the door to my apartment, the only thing I was able to do on my own, keys tossed into the bowl on the small kitchen table, as I make my way to the fridge. I don’t know why I do when there’s no appetite to be had. My stomach hasn’t stopped turning since I heard her voice once more. 

They need my help, they, she’s found people to join her little crusade, I wonder if I’ll get to meet some of them. Couldn’t tell me exactly what it was they needed my help with, it has to do with getting information or else I wouldn’t have been called. The sharp ring of cell phone prime stops the rumination of what exactly Tia and her merry band of thieves are up too. 

“If it isn’t my favorite warlock,” Abe greets as if I was the one to initiate this call, “How are things in St. Louis?”

My eyes roll, as I fall into the couch trying to relax, “How many times do I have to remind you I’m not a warlock,” my voice is the only part of me that’s obeyed as I drop the American accent.

“Well you did make a deal for some power, my boy,” he retorts, I can almost see the smile he has.

Yeah some power I have being your dog, “St. Louis is fine. They’re all still trying to look for Caro.”

“And after seven months,” Abe hums a second, “Have you been able to find anything else about her? What makes her so special to them?”

“I can’t get access to anything, I’m no hacker.”

“Surely your magic can get you somewhere,” his tone has dropped lower, I’m not doing my job in his eyes, or I’m just being difficult, “A little persuasion never hurt anyone.”

I stiffen, “You know exactly how I feel about your idea of persuasion,” my voice meets his in a growl, “That’s crossing into dark magic. I don’t do dark magic.”

“If you want to get out of this job and debt,” Abe taunts, if he was at a desk I’m sure he’d be leaning over it to look deep into your soul, “you better get a little more comfortable with the idea of it.”

My jaw clenches, “I’ll ask her myself, she’s returning in a few days.”

He’s silent for just the smallest amount of time, “Is she now?”

I nod, leaning back against the couch, “She said they needed some information I have access too.” I don’t know that I do but I just hope that my bluff will get some hint on who Tia might be with. 

“Well I hope you can get it for them,” should have known better, “Till next time Enache.” The call ended and I was back to being alone once more, eyes lazily looking at the clock on the wall, too early for any type of sleep and mom would be out in the garden still. I flipped the stereo on grabbing the old journal mom sent back with me, she wanted help translating and seeing if there could be any improvements to the spells from some great aunt some long time ago. It's been harder to get through them with Tia being gone, some of my ancestors encoded their works and Tia always had a different way of thinking that cracked it faster than me. It all started to blur together and the next thing I felt was weightless.

Maybe weightless wasn’t the right word as I felt sunlight burn at my eyes as I seemed to sink father into a bed. Wherever I was, it was warm and surrounded by the scent of citrus, my arms wrapped around its source. My lips turn upward, I know exactly who it is with me as I sink my face deeper into her hair pulling her closer. I’d have this dream before, I know I have, to finally have it real and right here with me….I can’t think of anything better. 

She stirs, her hand grabbing onto mine, “Good morning, C-man,” Tia’s greetings haven’t changed for me and I don’t think they will any time soon, “You know what today is?” Did I? I open my eyes looking to my left hand, no sign of a ring and the only thing glittering is the lingering golden lily on her hand. “Smallville,” she teased, “you forgot what today was didn’t you?”

“I-. No,” its somewhere stuck in my brain, I should know this answer, “It's about us, I know that.”

She laughed, turning to face me, her hazel eyes sparkling like peridots in the morning light, “Of course it’s about us,” her fingers trace down my jaw, “It's Mardi Gras, the day I ran away,” I know her hands are going to start tracing around the runes along my ribs.

“Why should that matter so much? Why can’t it just be Mardi Gras again,” there’s something off with my words, they don’t feel right speaking to her. I speak to her differently during these times, I know I do….so why does it feel like I’m forcing my speech in a way I dislike?

 “We’ve lost so much time because of it Conner,” she says softly, the sun’s rays bringing forth the gold in her hazel green eyes, “I should have never-.” 

I sigh, tilting her chin up, “I know why you did it,” Conner, she called me Conner….did I never tell her my real name? I take another look around us, I can’t place how I know, how I can even see it, but everything looks so soft around the edges and….foggy. I always told her in these fantasies, told her everything, we were both finally happy because there were no more secrets between the two of us. A chill starts on the back of my neck.

“I know but think about all that could have happened between us if I never did,” she kisses me, her lips soft and guiding, just as I always imagined it would be, the alarms in my mind attempting to overpower how good this all feels.This can’t be real….it feels real but….Her arms pull me closer, enticing me, “We could have had all this sooner. You and me together….”

There at the end of that word, I can feel it, the barest touch of a claw just outside of this fantasy….someone else was here. I jump up from the sheets, Tia’s eyes going wide, “I have to go,” I’m almost naked and I search for some kind of clothing, guess even in a dream I still had feelings of needing to cover up around others. 

“Conner wait,” she calls, hand reaching for me, “Don’t go.” Her eyes plead with me despite the small laughter she tried to use to hide the desperation in her voice. I hesitate. “Just stay here with me,” she’s on the bed on her knees, arms moving around my neck, biting her lower lip, “We can have everything you ever wanted. We never have to part again, we can live here, it can be anything you want.” Everything I ever wanted….so tempting of an offer. I’d never have to be Abe’s dog, never have to worry about leaving this place I call home, never have to have Tia away from me…. 

I take hold of her hands, shaking my head, “No,” I breathe out, stunning her a moment, “You’re not Tia. This isn’t real,” my thumb brushes along her cheek, as she presses her face more into my hand. I want to stay…., “I have to go.”

I turn away from her, my head making contact with the top of the van, I should have known it was her van, I can’t help but smile. “Conner don’t go! Stay!” She pleads once more, whoever made this fantasy did a good job in matching the way Tia’s voice sounds when she’s near tears, I only ever heard it the one time, “Don’t leave me here all alone! I need you! I don’t want you to leave me again!” Her words sting, though there’s no reason for them too, I never left her, “I’m sorry. I regret leaving you. Please stay with me, help us make up for lost time.”

I stiffen momentarily before a smirk comes to my lips. Nice try, I want to yell out to whoever it is that’s wanting to hold me here, “See now I know that you’re not her,” I look over my shoulder to the fake, “All you can do is just look like her, you could never match the real thing.” 

I step out of the van, into nothing solid with everything vanishing around me. I’m falling, my heart races, hands reaching out for something, anything, to slow me down. “Constantin,” a woman’s voice whispers next to my ear, it would sound sultry and sweet if not for the sharp annoyance at the edge of her words, “you can’t hide forever from me.” I shut my eyes, willing myself to wake up, the voice not letting up in whispering my name. There’s a little familiarity to it, but I can’t place it as I keep hoping to reach some kind of ground, the impact would surely wake me from this, now, nightmare. Red eyes reach past my eyelids, the fire in them clear, her voice certain and filled with that faux sweetness, “I’ll find you. Maybe not today but I’ll find you soon enough.”

I hit the sofa, gasping while I bolt right back up, her laugh a whispering echo in my ear for a heartbeat more before it's gone and Coltrane the only thing I can hear again. I can’t catch my breath, my hand gripping my chest, heart beating faster than I can ever remember, the room is closing in. My heart won’t stop racing, I’m going to fall, there’s not enough air. Not enough air. Not enough space. Things are closing in. Something’s wrong. I can’t figure out what. I have to stop shaking. Everything needs to stop spinning. The record’s warped, the notes are out of place. I know they are. I need to find an out. I need to breathe. When did it become so hard to breathe?

There’s a shrill ring over taking.

Loud, too loud. I need to make it stop. Need the quiet. I need it quiet to all stop. It’s all still spinning, legs shaking, I can’t even look at the screen. I can’t even get the simple word of hello out as I answer. “Constantin,” her voice is soothing, softened after so many years, “Constantin, honey, what’s wrong?” I’m younger, or at least my voice sounds childlike as I can tell I’m mumbling what’s wrong in my mother tongue, “Oh, mica mea grădină,” I can almost feel my mom’s arms around me. I can’t remember going to the ground, rocking back and forth, head between my knees. 

“Here focus on me, Grădină,” it feels like a strangled scream comes out at her nickname for me. Her voice is slow, steady, the perfect volume, “Hai Luluțu, dormi un picu. Dragul mamei, puiuț micu.” I know the words….the melody….it’s a lullaby. One she’s sung to me since I could remember, “Oare când oi fii voinicu. Să n-am grijă, de nimicu. Haida nani nani,” I can hear the way her voice is coaxing mine to join in through the sobs. I’m trying to take breaths as slow as I can, the near muscle memory wanting to take over. She keeps going and finally I can start to make out the carpet below me and the black coffee table in front of me, “Puișorul mamii. Domi in leganuț. Puișor draguț, luna și cu stealli.”

She holds the last word, my voice meeting hers with the first real words I can process myself saying, “Să-ți păzească viselii. Să-ți mângâie genialii.” Slowly I feel the tension in my body release as I continue to sing with her. The rocking stops, sobbing ceases, and soon I am able to breathe once more. “I’m sorry mama,” the first words out of my mouth as I wipe at my face, feeling a headache coming on.

“Grădina mea,” she says softly, soothing the slowing of my heart finally, “There’s never a need to be sorry.” She lets out a breath, I can see the wrinkle in her forehead she always got when she worried over me, “What got you so spooked Constantin?” I open my mouth to answer before she cuts me off, “And don’t go saying it's nothing. I’m your mother, I want to help you.”

I close my eyes, shaking my head, “It’s just a nightmare, mama, I must be working too much is all.”

“Maybe it's time for you to come home and quit this new job of yours,” I can hear the undertones of annoyance. She hadn’t been happy with this job since I told her I couldn’t visit more than once or twice a year if I was lucky. “This whole thing has just gotten worse and I’m worried about you.”

“What if I video chatted with you a little more,” I suggest getting up from the floor finally, turning down the music, “Would that make you a little happier?”

“No,” I smile at the quickness of her answer, “It’s not the same.”

“I know but it’s better than nothing.”

“What happened to that girl you used to talk about?” I stiffen, eyes shifting looking for cameras that aren’t there, “You didn’t have trouble sleeping then. Did you break up?”

“Mom,” I groan, “I haven’t dated while I’ve been out here, you know that.”

“Firstly you should,” I roll my eyes, “You not having the time is more proof that you need to be back home. Secondly, I think she had something to do with this ‘increase in work stress’. Or did you forget that this was the second time I’ve caught you in a panic attack?”

Was it the second time? I didn’t think so, that couldn’t have been right, “This is the first time mom, the other time you probably just caught me at a bad time.”

“Constantin,” she paused before letting out a slow breath, mom was done trying to worm her way through my lies, “I’m always here for you, you know that right?” 

I nod, “Yeah, I know you are mama. I love you for it.”

“I love you too,” she was quiet a moment before letting out a small gasp, “Oh, my package. You got that right?” It’s still sitting on the kitchen counter, it came in three days ago, “I put some tea in there for you. It should help you sleep.” I rest the phone between my ear and shoulder, tearing open the box, “I also put some cookies and jam in there for you. All your favorites.” 

It's nice to hear the smile in her voice again, I can’t help but meet it with my own as I look through everything, “Thanks mama,” I pull out the jar of tea, feeling the low hum of power they emanate, “I should be going to bed here soon.”

“Okay mica mea grădină,” I hear the faint sound of a bell, she hadn’t even left the shop yet and I was working too hard, “Sleep well, honey. I’ll talk to you soon. I love you.”

“Love you too mama,” I hang up after that, filling the automated teapot with water setting it to the correct temperature of her chamomile tea. I never had to worry about making the tea sweeter with mom’s recipe, the chunks of sugar being what imbued the tea with its magic. Sure chamomile already helped in relaxation but some needed more help and sleeping pills could be addictive, not mom’s tea though. She really must have been worried about me to have sent some, she was right too though, not that I’d ever tell her that.

It was about six months ago that I started to get a feeling as if I was being watched. Sleep was harder to have as I would wake to something echoing in my ears while I felt like I was in a fog. I brushed it off as worry for Tia’s safety due to her radio silence, now though….there was something about the dream that felt too real. It was coated in magic, it had to have been, I couldn’t tell what kind but I could tell they needed more time for something. The woman said she would find me….I just couldn’t place who would be looking for me after all this time.

One came to mind but there was no way they could have been looking for us after all this time, those were just random attacks. I shook the thoughts from my head as I filled a mug making my way to the bedroom flipping the tv on, the theme to Dateline playing. Three days, three days and I’d be seeing Tia again. I should bring her some of the cookies….then again, mama made them special for me.

[akimmito]

Heroes are made by the path they choose

Previous | AO3 | Next

--------------

Chapter 8

Marinette is sitting on a bench, phone in hand, dark glasses and a black coat; she remembers several years ago when she was in this same place meeting with Marianne. Now she's back, but not to recall memories of her embarrassing adolescence. No, she's in that place for business, the place is solitary enough for a meeting without attracting too much attention, especially if it's information that she doesn't want anyone to hear.

"What's so important?" She speaks when a person sits next to her, she doesn't need to see him to know who he's, after all, there is only someone who should be there at that moment and in that place. She made sure that it was, a little magic to persuade people not to pass.

"I heard that a demon wants to get one of your jewels in Turkey, I'm not sure of his motives, but an angel was bothering me to do something. You should talk more to them. "

"Yeah, because it's very normal to befriend angels. The casual Friday of every human. "

"You would be surprised, they're a lot of fun… until they harass you relentlessly, they can be very annoying when they want. "

"That's my point." She smiles and takes off her dark glasses at the same time as he does. "What else do you know? You wouldn't ask for a meeting just to tell me that, knowing how much you run away from relationships and human interaction in general. "

"Well, darling, it's always a pleasure to see you. Any gathering is worth enjoying your figure. ”Marinette laughs and prepares for whatever she will say next. "The Shadow League searches for their heir. They called hell and found out that the boy was not there, Ra’s was willing to make a deal to retrieve his body and bring him back to the Lazarus Pits. It's only a matter of time for they to locate him, you must be careful. "

"Ra’s doesn't like to be betrayed." she murmurs. "How did you get the information?"

"A lovely encounter with a demon and one of those assassins, the poor man I was trying to protect, all wanted him very dead. The demon didn't kill him, but there was nothing I could do against a murderer like that, I barely made it out alive and now I have a new beautiful scar on my leg. "

"One day like any other, you're a lucky man."

"Since that night it only increased, I must thank you." He leans toward her with a smile.

"Do you want to go for a drink? To thanks for the information. ”She smiles back. The two get up immediately and begin to walk the streets of Paris, Marinette makes sure that a glamor covers them both to avoid being bothered. She grabs his left arm and he leans into her to whisper in her ear, tickling her skin where his breath hits.She laughs "Now, what has become of your life, John Constantine?"

----------------

Cooper @ KCoopL98

It is a wonderful day, nothing can ruin it. Not even you, damn butterfly!

Alix @LostHeroBunnix

The more mysterious you are @MariLenoir, the more curiosity you generate in us.

Chloe B. @BourgeoisQueen

@LostHeroBunnix, right?!

Adrien A. @AdrienAgreste

@LostHeroBunnix @BourgeoisQueen I saw her walking to the Sena, wearing a black coat and putting on sunglasses. Very suspicious.

Epic Kim @Epic_OrginalChampions

@LostHeroBunnix @BourgeoisQueen @AdrienAgtreste What if she has a secret lover? With the demon boy she has for a son, I would sneak out too.

Damian @DamianLenoir

@LostHeroBunnix @BourgeoisQueen @AdrienAgreste @Epic_OriginalChampions Mother has no secret boyfriend or lover. Imagination must be a nice place, but get out of there.

Epic Kim @Epic_OriginalChampions

@LostHeroBunnix @BourgeoisQueen @AdrienAgreste @DamianLenoir Look at him, poor baby, he's in denial.

Damian @DamianLenoir

@LostHeroBunnix @BourgeoisQueen @AdrienAgreste @Epic_OriginalChampions Denial is what you'll feel when they tell you that you'll not be able to swim in a year.

Alix @LostHeroBunnix

@BourgeoisQueen @AdrienAgreste @Epic_OriginalChampions @DamianLenoir How much violence, please, I want to be present when it happens

Felix @GarahamV_Felix

@LostHeroBunnix @BourgeoisQueen @AdrienAgreste @Epic_OriginalChampions Why do we need tabloid newspapers? You do a great job, guys. If you're going to speculate nonsense, do it via text message. Uselesses.

----------

Marinette returns to the country house when dinner is over, only to be greeted by Damian as soon as she opens the door. The boy looks incredibly threatening with his arms crossed and a suspicious look, she has returned too late.

"Where did you go, mother? I can smell the smell of alcohol and it's barely 9 pm, you must have left Paris two hours ago, too early to be drinking. ”He frowns more, looking her up and down, noting the differences in her outfit since he saw her leave, realizing that the black stockings are missing.

"I just went for a walk and stopped at a bar." All right, she shouldn't be so intimidated by her son, but Damian does it very successfully. In her defense, he was trained to be a killing machine, he knows very well how to stand and look to achieve that effect.

"Alone?"

"Uh, well..."Marinette is just a little drunk, so that helps the questioning go so well for the boy.

"Because you don't bring your stockings, I can also smell a cigar aroma and I know that you don't like nicotine, you are disheveled and you have a mark on your neck. "Damian is hurt to list everything he can notice, he didn't even try to further hide the evidence. He really hates Kim, especially because he was right.

"He's a... friend..." She doubts, actually, she doesn't have the slightest idea of her relationship with him. Adventure of one... two, no, three... yes, three nights, maybe?

Is he so bad that his mother must hide her partner from him? He's not going to bite him, just a subtle threat with a knife, nothing too so bad.

"Mother, you don't have to while. If he hurts you, I will mutilate it, but if you agree… ”The rest is not understood because he's said in grunts and, for less understanding, in Arabic.

"He's a friend, Damian. I met him four years ago while investigating a series of murders that ended up being the victims of sacrifice for a cult that spread to various regions of Europe. "The boy heeds his words, he did not think she was going to tell him about his friend, like if I really believed it was just that. When she passes him, the smell of cigarettes is much stronger, reinforcing the idea that it was not quality time for friends. "We started investigating it and he took us to Liverpool, where I met him. I was investigating the case with Felix, but seeing the circles and rituals performed, I diverted it in another direction while I followed the correct leads, I had the feeling that I would end up facing something darker than just a cult."

"And you met him." He sits down on the couch across from her, Marinette takes off her slippers and sets them aside. She thinks for a moment before continuing.

"Yeah, he was also investigating. These people seemed to want to carry out a demonic summoning ritual, I didn't know their real motives for this, but I wasn't going to wait for them to succeed… unfortunately they were successful the night we faced them, Azrael, nice meeting. "Damian barely flinches at his sarcasm. "You can't imagine the problems we had in sending him back to hell, all while Plagg was laughing at us. "

"In my defense, I knew you would win." The little god comes out of Marinette's coat. "And next time you meet the alcoholic guy, don't take me. Unless you want to face another demon or angel, you are fun when you do. "

Marinette sighs, of course the Kwami of Destruction would love the amount of chaos those beings generate.

"Whatever, we met several times later. He seemed intrigued by Plagg and the fact of my magic is very different from anything he had seen."

"Tell him when a possessed woman attacked you in a bar! It was fun. ”Plagg laughs as he remembers it, all the chaos it caused in the few minutes she was there. He loved it, it was a great day.

"I didn't know you were involved in that kind of thing." He admits, it's something he never thought would be related to his mother, as kind as she's, no one would ever imagine.

"Sometimes, but they are only favors for him. I prefer not to get into such situations, they are always prone to end in a real disaster. "She sighs looking at his hands.

"It's so much fun." Plagg laughs as Marinette shakes her head.

"Yeah, we know chaos amuses you." She smiles wearily and gets up. "I'll go to sleep... Damian, I love you so much."

Damian just watches her go after saying those words to him, he didn't expect her to say that to him. He knows that she loves him and he wants her back, that's why he tries so hard to always look presentable when they go out and not cause any problems, he doesn't want his reputation to be ruined because of him and for that reason she'll no longer wants him by his side. It would be terrible.

And that's why he doesn't like the people who approach her, what if they don't like him? What if they demand that his mother get rid of him? What if she gets a partner who doesn't want him around? He will couldn't accept it.

Seeing Talia three nights ago still haunts him, even though it was just an illusion created by the Akuma. When he thinks about the League he only feels two things, fear that he will be taken away from his mother and fury at what they did to him.

If he ever returns to the League of Assassins, it will be to exterminate them all.

-----------

Tim Drake @TimDrakeW_

The only good thing about going to Paris is that I already have an appointment with Marie Lenoir for a suit. Thanks @OliverQueen!

Roy @RoyHarperQ

@TimDrakeW_ You failed to thank me? I was the one who felt sorry for you because Dick is dragging you to Paris with him.

Jason @IAmYisus_XD

@TimDrakeW_ @RoyHarperQ He turns off notifications for his posts, he won't tell you anything.

Dick Grayson @TheFlyingGrayson

Tomorrow we arrived in Paris, the last time I visited the city I was six years old and still in the Circus. I have a whole tourist route to follow!

[alecmagnuslwb]

This Type of Love Isn’t Rational

Read on AO3

When the magical stone her father gave her glows bright she knows she’s in for it. He’s been supportive more or less since she left home on her nineteenth birthday to figure out who Zatanna was when she wasn’t just known as the daughter of the great Zatara.

He doesn’t call often, just an occasional check in, but more often than not he hears enough from his many contacts to know she’s alright which satisfies him. If he’s calling now it’s because he’s heard all about her new companion and he’s likely not happy.

But then again most people wouldn’t be all that happy to learn their child is running around with the likes of John Constantine.

“Ekam em elbatneserp,” she says waving a hand down her body and adjusting herself on the bed. In one magical wave she’s dressed in a t-shirt and dark comfortable pants, her messy hair now a neat ponytail on her head, she looks like she’s getting ready for bed not like she just had John’s face buried between her thighs for an excruciatingly beautiful amount of time.

“Hey, dad!” she says bright and chipper as she touches the sigil on the stone her father’s image coming to life in front of her swathed in sparkling blue magic.

“Hello, Zatanna,” he says with a grimace. Yup, he definitely knows about John. For a few minutes though he keeps the small talk just that, small, asking about her recent shows and how she’s doing with keeping up on her magical studies and then he steers the conversation exactly where she knew it was going.

“So I hear you’ve been running with a Mr. Constantine,” he says leadingly, it’s funny to hear someone refer to John as Mr. Constantine usually it’s just Constantine or extremely colorful insults when he’s referred to.

Zatanna takes a deep breath, her dad won’t outright say he doesn’t approve based upon what he’s most likely heard about Constantine, but he no doubt wants her to admit she’s dating a criminal.

Which technically she is. John isn’t what Zatanna expected. She’d been on her own for nearly three years by the time she ran into him. She could feel his magic from across the room and despite the cocky grin and the obvious fact he only had one thing on his mind as he looked her up and down she got closer.

She didn’t go home with him that night, but before the week was out they were sleeping in the same bed more often than not and she was quickly more than aware of who he was and how he operated.

John doesn’t play by any rules. He does magic the way he wants and he lives the way he wants. If that means swindling people out of money, magic and on one memorable occasion the entire house of mystery, which he proceeded to lose in a poker game months later, he doesn’t mind.

Zatanna may not directly participate in his more illegal choices, but she also doesn’t try to stop him or change him because underneath the con man is a good man who cares and wants to help a lot more than he’d ever willingly say out loud to anyone, even to her. She knows though, she sees the man underneath it all.  

But she’s not stupid either, realistically this could all blow up in her face one day and she gets that. For all intents and purposes John is what people would call a bad boy with a tainted heart, but she’s irrevocably in love with him anyway.

Most people can’t fathom what she sees him, she’s very much certain her father will also be on that list.

“I am,” Zatanna says hearing the shower shut off. She hopes to move this conversation along quickly as to not have her father get more than eyeful of John. “Why do you ask?”

Her father pauses pensive, clearly carefully choosing his words to not anger her before he even gets to make the point he wants to make.  

“Well, I was thinking it’s been a while since you’ve been home and if this…young man is important to you that you could bring him along and we could meet,” he says diplomatically.

Zatanna squints her eyes knowing this is a bad idea, a colossal mistake, she can tell from the tone of his voice her father already has an opinion about John that any sort of dinner won’t change his mind and will no doubt be a disaster.

However, she kind of loves the idea of the mayhem. Being with John has really brought out some of the more diabolical bits in her.

The bathroom door starts to open and Zatanna rushes her father away.

“Sounds great, dad, how about we come by for dinner on Friday?”  she rushes out just as John steps out with not so much as a small towel on. Her father barely gets to nod his head in agreement before she’s saying her goodbyes and shutting the call down.

“Who are we havin’ dinner with Friday?” John asks as she tosses the stone onto the nightstand. He grabs his cigarettes and lights one before flopping back on the bed next to her.

“My father,” she says glumly falling back on the bed as well.

John chuckles and takes a quick drag before tilting his head to the side to look at her.

“I’ll put on my best suit,” he says with a cheeky grin. Zatanna rolls her eyes as far as she can tell John only owns one suit that he just keeps washing the blood out of and continuing on. This dinner is most definitely going to be a shitshow.

***

“My dad is going to hate you; you know that right?” Zatanna says as they make their way to the front door that Friday.

“Why’s that?” John says with a sly grin. “Is it because I’m a two-bit con man who smokes too much and has a questionable criminal history and magical record?” he continues cheekily coming to stop on the top step leading to the door.

He attempts to adjust his tie, cigarette still hanging loosely from his lips as he raises a hand about to knock before Zatanna pulls it down and turns him to face her. She moves her hands up to his neck fixing his tie properly and buttoning up the open buttons of white his shirt, a real opposite to how she usually gets when her hands are on that red tie of his.

“That’s exactly why,” she says with a smirk of her own patting John’s tie once it’s evenly placed. She reaches up and plucks the cigarette from his still smirking lips. She takes a calming drag before flicking it into a puddle she narrowly avoided moments before at the bottom of the stairs.

She hasn’t exactly picked up John’s favorite bad habit on the regular, or this one at least, but she’ll be damned if the smell of his particular brand and the burn of it on her lips doesn’t have the keen ability to soothe the edges of her nerves from time to time. It’s all his damn fault, bastard she loves and his shitty habit she hates that she loves.

Her father opens the door before she can even knock a big greeting smile on his face, he pulls her in for a tight embrace before focusing his attention on John. The handshake they share is so tense she’s certain it’s all going to go off the rails immediately before they can so much as pick up a single fork.

But much to her absolute shock her father is well behaved in the moment, introducing himself politely and then all through appetizers and the main course he keeps that same bright attitude. Half of the smiles are as fake as they can get and he’s clearly trying to goad John into slipping up and play into every rumor he’s ever heard about him, but no fights break out which she calls a win.

John plays the picture-perfect boyfriend, he’s a good con man for a reason, so much so that Zatanna has to hold in her laughter at how corny he’s being. Her father’s almost buying it, that’s how good he is at this.

Dessert is when it all falls apart.

“Zatanna could I speak to you in the study,” her father says gesturing to the door from the dining room they’re in that connects to his office, a room she once used to admire in wonder that she’s now dreading.

She nods as her father stands up from the table and heads for the double doors. John makes a teasing face like a child watching their friend be called into the principal’s office at her and she reaches out shoving a hand through his and yanking it back playfully before turning to follow her father.

He wastes no time getting started once he shuts the doors behind them.

“Do you know what kind of man you’ve taken up with?” he says none to quietly. There’s no way John can’t hear them. Usually this room would have some sort of silencing spell on it, but she can tell from the lack of magic in the walls that there aren’t any today. Her dad wants John to hear that he isn’t good enough for his daughter.

“I’m well aware,” she says frustrated even if she saw this coming.

“The things I’ve heard about him from very trusted sources are abominable. The dealings he’s made, the magic he’s tampered with,” her father says pacing the room back and forth getting louder by the second. “He’s a thief and con man at best, a monster at worst and neither of those options are good!”

He goes on for a few more minutes throwing out any number of words about John and about her poor judgement. She tunes him out letting him get it all out of his system before she interrupts.

“Hguone!” she shouts and her father goes silent. “You don’t need to tell me who the man I’ve been with for nearly a year is, I’m aware he’s not exactly some golden boy, but I don’t care. I know him better than you could ever know him from just rumors and stories.” She says loudly then lowers her voice so John doesn’t hear the next part. “I know that maybe one day I’ll have made a bad call here, but so far all he’s done is trust me and love me, so I can take the rest as it comes.”

She takes a deep breath before making her finally point, voice deadly calm.  

“You’re right about one thing he is a criminal, and guess what dad? I love him and that’s not changing anytime soon. When you have accepted that or at least trusted your own daughters’ judgement on who she’s sleeping with, we’ll come back by for a more peaceful dinner, but for now we’re leaving.”

She finishes with a turn her coattails spinning out behind her as she opens the double doors. John is already sitting there on the table waiting for her tie loose and buttons undone once again, an unlit cigarette hanging from his lips and a plate with four generously sized pieces of chocolate cake on it in his hand.

“Figured we’re having dessert to go,” he says with a wink when he spots her eyeing the plate.

He holds out his free hand and hops off the table. “Shall we, luv?”

She grabs two forks from the table as she walks towards him tossing one last glance back at her father who looks so disappointed as she grabs John’s hand and pulls him to the front door.

Yeah, one day this may all blow up in her face, one day her father may get to say I told you so, but for today she’s going to enjoy the ride with this devil of a man she’s fallen for.

[zoey-wades]

Honeymoon (King Liam x MC)

Rating: M (Drug Use, Substance Abuse, Violence, Self-Inflicted Violence)

Characters: Dark!Liam Rys x Dark!Lyra Frasier (MC) x Dark!Drake Walker

Summary: Fresh out of school and trying to figure things out, Lyra Frasier spends her weekdays going to a job she hates and her weekends in a drug fueled haze. And then she meets golden boy Liam. Lyra soon realizes that the violent underbelly of New York City’s elite may be more than she can handle.

Author’s Note: I haven’t updated this thing since uh......last year? I’m bad at making a writing schedule for myself. I think, the way TRR has been going as a series, I just haven’t had the motivation. But when I separate this world from that one, it helps a bit more. 

Honeymoon Series

ooo. Prologue.

oo1. Honeymoon.

oo2. Midnight City.

--x-- 

oo3. C.R.E.A.M. 

It was bad enough that Liam’s father was ill; he also had to be stubborn as fuck.

Liam winced as his ailing father lifted the shaking glass of whiskey to his lips, determined to keep drinking despite what the doctor and his wife told him about the effects on his body. Liam cleared his throat, earning a single passive glance from his father across the desk. 

“Oh come on,” Constantine groaned, licking the droplets of liquor from his chin, “Not you, too. I don’t need anymore shit about what I do in my free time.” 

Unwilling to take advice from those he deemed inexperienced, Constantine was an unwavering force in a world of deeply complicated decisions. Liam patiently rested his folded hands in his lap, training his expression to convey as much stoicism as he could in the given circumstance.

“You don’t seem to understand that this,” he motioned towards the glass, “is the reason why Sebastian Clark was able to fly under your radar for so long? What would’ve happened if Walker and I hadn’t figured him out? Who knows what he could’ve gotten away with--” 

“That rotten, coked out fucker,” Constantine spat with a wave of the hand, “Good riddance. I didn’t need him poisoning my ranks with his bullshit.” 

“That’s what I’m trying to explain,” Liam leaned forward in his seat, speaking slowly to emphasize his next point, “We don’t know that he hasn’t. And the fact that he was in your ranks for as long as he had should be worrisome. Who knows what else is going on that we don’t know about.”

“My men are loyal to me,” Constantine stated plainly, “One bad apple doesn’t always spoil the lot.”

At the age of 67, he’d been away from the action for quite some time. Evidence of a hard youth decorated his face and body in the form of scars and bones that didn’t quite heal correctly. Liam couldn’t remember a time when his father didn’t look tired. If he hadn’t seen a photo of a young Constantine with his own eyes, he’d believe the man just came into this world with a shock of white hair and bloodshot eyes. His stepmother half-joked that Liam’s older brother, Leo, caused their father to gray prematurely with his gambling and sex addictions.

On the other hand, Leo had to get it from somewhere.

Liam watched his father struggle to take another sip from his glass before averting his gaze to a family photo on his father’s desk. Teenage Justin and Liam sat side-by-side, unsmiling, with neatly pressed suits on in front of their equally serious fathers. Why Constantine kept that particular photo on his desk, Liam never understood. Nothing about it exuded warmth. 

“Did Justin ever talk about a girl around you?” Liam suddenly asked, refocusing on his father who swirled his whiskey in deep thought. 

“A girl?” He repeated in thought, “Once or twice. Usually he was asking advice on how to keep them tamed, you know?” 

Constantine attempted a conspiratorial smile that Liam didn’t reciprocate. 

“Did he mention any specific names?” Liam pressed on, “Or descriptors?” 

Constantine raised a brow and sat the sweating glass on a wooden coaster, “What is this about?”

What was this about? Liam wasn’t entirely sure. There was something about the girl, Lyra, that intrigued him. How was she able to dip in and out of their world so easily without leaving any footprints behind? Who did she know? 

After dropping her off back home the previous afternoon, Liam did some quick research into who she was. Aside from a few high school choir competition press reels, she was an otherwise ordinary woman. 

“Well I...” Liam chose his words carefully, “ran into Justin at the bar, talking to a girl. You know we never really see him with anyone. So I was just curious.”

There was a brief pause between the two men, and the grin returned to Constantine’s face, “A hot piece of ass, huh? Thinking of getting in there?” 

Liam said nothing, but fidgeted with the rings on his fingers. His father wasn’t technically wrong. But god damn if the wording didn’t make him feel like the grossest piece of shit. 

He decided to drop the subject for another time.

“Sorry to push us off topic, Dad,” Liam quickly corrected, “But, back to my original point...how do you know for sure Clark was the only shady one in the group?” 

Constantine considered this, tapping his pen on the wooden desktop, “What reason would I give them to turn their backs on me? I’ve been with these men for well over 30 years, I fed them,” he counted on his fingers, “clothed them, put their kids through school, made them dukes in their own respects. They made their names on my back, and they think they’re gonna fuck me over!” 

The sudden exclamation caused the man to cough violently into his arm and then into a handkerchief. Liam instinctively jumped to his feet, and rushed across the room to fetch a glass of water for his father. 

“I’m fine!” Constantine croaked, attempting to catch his breath, “I just got a bit overexcited.” 

Despite his protests, Constantine took the glass and sipped from it slowly. It hurt Liam to see his father deteriorating so quickly. A part of him felt like Constantine believed himself to be invincible. A smaller part of Liam felt like his father was simply just giving up. He had to put on an air of confidence, as he was at the top of the pyramid and could not show weakness. But as he grew older, cracks in the foundation began to form. Cracks that Liam had been working to seal. 

Liam loved his father. There was no doubt about that. But every day the work grew more difficult. Liam could almost envision the empire crumbling at his father’s feet, all because he was too stubborn to fix the loose bricks. 

As if reading his mind, Constantine sat the glass down and looked over his son, “You do know that I love you, right, kiddo?” 

There was a faraway look in his eyes, a look Liam saw once in a while. And he always wondered where Constantine went when that happened. 

“Yeah, I know, dad.”

Sadness darkened his father’s features, “Despite the issues that your mother and I had,” he cleared his throat, “I did love her. And I think you were the best thing that ever happened to me. I’m always going to be proud of you.” 

A pit formed in Liam’s stomach and he reached across to grab his father’s hand, “Hey, what are you not telling me?” 

And just like that, Constantine switched the darkness off, a confident grin returning to his face. It didn’t reach his eyes. 

“A man can’t tell his kid he appreciates him, anymore? Lighten up, Liam.” 

--x--

Liam sat in the garage of his apartment building to smoke and attempt at shuffling through his thoughts. Maybe it was counterproductive. An hour after leaving Constantine’s office, Liam learned of another potential fuck up in his father’s ranks. Someone was making trade deals on the low, and informing a rival company of some arms delivery pick up spots before they arrived for a cut of the profit. He passed the message along to Drake, who responded with the same concerns regarding Constantine’s failing leadership. 

Liam was only one man. Though he was sure he didn’t feel an ounce of the pressure his father did, the stress he felt nearly crippled him sometimes. He briefly allowed his mind to wander to Lyra and what she was doing. Did she know how much he envied her life? She didn’t answer to anyone, she could leave the city if she wanted to, she never had to constantly look over her shoulder. Lyra carried herself with the air of freedom he could only dream about. Clutching his phone in tatted knuckles, he almost considered texting her. But truly, what would he even say? 

“Hey, I know we only spoke once and you gave me your number because you wanted to pay me back for the gas (which you still don’t have to do). But what does freedom feel like?” 

Right now, Liam imagined she was laying across the secondhand sofa in some old college sweatshirt, watching YouTube, her mind a thousand miles away from him. He’d never even seen her apartment. But he had a feeling she had a lot of plants and a collection of decorated whiskey bottles on her kitchen counter. She seemed like the type. He caught himself chuckling at the thought and frowned. Ideally, he’d just let her go. He could never bring her into this world, she was too good for it. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that he could grow to like her. 

The shrill ring of his phone cut through his thoughts, sharply pulling him from a moment of escapism he didn’t even know he needed. 

“Hello?” Liam answered, attempting to mask his disappointment. 

“Idon’tknowwhathappened! Idon’tknow!” A shrill voice cried on the other end between sobs. Liam pulled the phone from his face, and realized it was his father’s assistant, Penelope, calling from an unknown number. Alarm bells went off in Liam’s head, and he turned the ignition in his car. 

“Pen, what happened?” He asked, sitting up in his seat. 

“I just came in and he was....! I don’t know what happened, Liam! I was gone for an hour!”

“What. Happened?” Liam asked, again. His heart began to thud in his ears, and he gripped the steering wheel, “Just fucking tell me. Spit it out-”

“Constantine shot himself!”

[terriblecreations]

The Way I Feel Inside Part 4

Masterlist for the Series is Here

Warnings: Mentions of broken nose?

Words: 1111

Summary: It’s time for the gala, and unexpected help allows it to go smoothly. But apparently this extra help causes a few extra problems you did not see coming.

Author’s Note: I know this chapter is definitely not the best, probably the worst one written. Hopefully Part 5, which will definitely be better, will drop soon

You and Eggsy drew your weapons, ready to fire. The waiter chuckled.

“Sorry for the cloak and dagger act, but the Statesmen were too busy trying to get our aliases to match up with y’alls and we didn’t feel like waiting. Your boss should’ve sent a memo.” He pulled off a fake nose and other bits. He motioned to his partner who was doing the same. I felt a pang when I realized who they were.

 “This is Gin and I’m Root Beer.”

Eggsy glanced at his smart watch, encrypted of course, before giving you the nod.

“Glad to actually make your acquaintance.” The woman said. She smiled at Eggsy and you felt a foreign feeling well up in your chest. 

You examined both of them, noting their done up hair and pristine outfits.

“You’re coming with us to the gala then…” you said, trying to keep the annoyance out of your tone.

“Why of course, Sam Adams.” Gin answered with a giggle.

You stiffened, gritting your teeth as Eggsy glanced at you with a raised eyebrow.

Root Beer noticably elbowed his partner, who looked confused for a moment before gasping in shock.

“Sam Adams?” Eggsy questioned.

“There’s no time for this,” you said. “We have to go to the gala now.”

Leaving no room for you guys being delayed any longer, you opened the door and slid into the car until you were behind Agent Root Beer. Eggsy followed, his jaw stiff as the car began onwards to your destination.

The ride was silent. You could feel Eggsy fuming in the seat beside you. You wanted to say something, anything, but this definitely was not the right time, so you filed it away for later.

“What’s the new plan?” he said, breaking the silence.

“Same bit, really,” Gin said. “You and Sam Adams, er… Morgana will still be going into the gala posing as newlyweds. Myself and RB will be posing as Tamora and Remus, your siblings, Galahad. The legitimate ones, that is. When we have the target in sights, Morgana and I will have a ‘cat-fight,” you and her both rolled your eyes at the term, “and RB will swoop in and take the target.”

“The Statesmen have a safehouse even more off the grid than your hotel suite, a cabin a few clicks away from the city. We will part ways, us boys and you girls, and rendevouz there.”

You nodded, appreciating the knack for detail you remembered the Statesmen having.

(Time Skip cause laziness)

You and Eggsy entered the gala arm-in-arm, fake smiles plastered on your faces as you navigated through throngs of rich folk who spared no second glances to us. Eggsy’s arm was wrapped around your waist, and you could feel how tense he was.

“Rupert,” you said, your voice soft as honey. You winced at the feeling of his arm tightning. You leaned in close to his ear, so close that your lips brushed against it as you said, “I know we need to have a talk later, but can you please stop squeezing me so tightly?”

His eyes widened, ears turning red as he slowly loosened his grip. “Sorry, love, but I think I’ll go check out the drinks over there.”

You watched him go. You hated to admit it, but a part of you wanted to chase him down and explain everything.

Unfortunately, however, Gin chose that moment to approach you. You shared a look before she shoved you, hard.

You narrowed your eyes at her. “What the fuck is your problem?” You made sure to make your voice a bit loud so the other partygoers could hear you.

“You know what my problem is, Amara. Keep Rupert the hell away from us. He’s not getting a cent of that inheritance.” She seethed.

By now, anyone within close proximity and then some was staring at you both intently.

“He’s worked harder than any of you lot. He deserves anything he’s given.”

Even the musicians were slowing down to stare at you. God, I need to lock myself in a room for a month straight to get over this, you thought to yourself.

For a moment, you wondered who was going to throw the first punch. Gin had no problem deciding that.

You stumbled backwards from the force of the blow. She raised an eyebrow at you, a proud smirk on her face.

Oh hell no.

You straightened yourself and grabbed her by her obvious extensions, ripping them out without warning. A collective gasp went through the crowd as you tossed them to the side.

Her eyes narrowed as she stalked toward you, but you brought the heel of your hand up and hit her straight in the nose. She cried out and grabbed her nose.

“If you’re done, Root Beer has the target and we’re heading out,” Eggsy’s voice echoed in your ear.

Now, how to finish this with time to leave…

“We have to get ourselves kicked out,” Gin whispered into her headset

Well, it was a charity gala, meant to sell the scultptures and paintings that happened to be laying around…

(Time Skip to the Cabin)

You helped Gin navigate the steps up the safehouse while she held a cloth to her nose. 

RB was the one who opened the door for you both, taking one look at Gin before letting you in.

“This isn’t what we meant by a cat-fight,” he said as he brought Gin to one of the sofas.

You glanced around the room, noticing one missing body. “Where’s Agent Galahad?”

“Dealing with the target in the basement.” RB looked you up and down. “Do any of the Kingsman know?”

“The Higher Ups do. That’s all that ever really mattered.” You sighed as you looked over Gin. “You good?”

She nodded. “You always knew how to throw a punch, Sam Adams.”

You smirked. “Well, I’ll head upstairs. When Galahad’s done, send him to me.”

Once in the room, you couldn’t help the flashbacks from before your time with Kingsman. Of nights spent in this cabin with a person whose face continued to fade from your memory every day.

You showered and changed into a pair of loose pants and a tank top before sitting on the edge of the bed, lost in thought.

“We need to talk.”

You glanced up to see Eggsy standing in the doorway, arms crossed.

“Yeah, we do.”

A/N: Now that that’s over. Part 5 will be on its way and yes there’ll be angst. Maybe some fluff. Idk we will see how nice I’m feeling that day.

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[thatapostateboy]

colourful charade

Pairing: None, just platonic Constantin and de Sardet

Word Count: 1835

Synopsis: A fic about a young de Sardet, her more exasperated mother and an introduction. (I wrote most of this on my phone so please forgive any errors) 

It was the day after her sixteenth birthday that Genevieve de Sardet broke a man’s nose for the first time. There had been plenty of times before that incident where it had been an option she had considered; any number of cruel boys or even crueller adults at court took the opportunity to pass comment on the curling green mark upon her cheek, coming up with increasingly more ludicrous reasons for its existence; an infection, a curse, the true beginning of the Malichor.

It had angered her so much, to listen to people who did not know her judging her for something that she had been born with. Her relation to the royal family saved her any public ridicule, but it was the whispers behind her back that truly hurt her more. It was for that reason that her mother had trained her young how to always strive towards diplomacy. She was a lady of the court, niece to the Prince D’Orsay, she would need to know how to navigate the delicate dealings and political backstabbings that came with that role.

From a young age, she took to those lessons with great enthusiasm, finding a talent within herself for the intrigue and game of it all. She never truly agreed with the secrecy and the way that the nobility clung to their titles even at the expense of the major populace, but she loved knowing how to play them to get what she wanted.

It didn’t stop many of the rumours, but whatever words spread, everyone held a respect for the young Lady de Sardet, for so quickly learning how to play.

And yet, none of it mattered in that moment that she stood in her mother’s room, her usually tidy hair falling loose from her braids, mud on her dress. It was not a fully unusual state of dress, having been a tearaway child, always running off on adventures with her cousin. But the true part that stood out was that her hand was swollen and shaking in pain, a smear of someone else’s blood still on it.

Princess de Sardet let out a heavy sigh as she took in the sight of her daughter, “The guards tell me you punched a boy.”

Genevieve looked away dejectedly. Of course the guards had been the ones to tell on her. The members of the Coin Guard were some of the only people in the palace that she could never wrap her head around. The only way of making this whole incident go away would have been to pay them, but unfortunately, they answered to her mother and her uncle before her.

“I thought I taught you well,” she said, “What is the one thing I told you always to remember, my child?”

“That we are meant to use our words before anything else,” Genevieve muttered.

“And yet, you broke a boy’s nose, and injured your poor hand in the process,” she gestured to her daughter’s shaking hand.

Genevieve let out a huff, trying to defend herself, “But Mother…”

Princess de Sardet put her hand up to quiet her child, “Darling, you are a lady, not a soldier. Whatever happened, it is not your duty to take such actions.”

“But-” she tried to interject to no avail.

“We will have to organise some sort of apology to appease the boy’s family before news of this spreads too far, perhaps an opportunistic marriage arrangement or a position at court or-”

“I had no choice!” she blurted out.

Her mother’s eyebrows raised high, “I’m sorry?”

“Constantin and I had a break between our lessons, so we decided to venture into the city for a few hours. We were careful, we didn’t wear our recognisable clothes. We thought it would be fun to sneak into the Coin Tavern. We had a drink together, we weren’t bothering anyone, when suddenly this boy came up to us. He was a few years older, but I recognised him as the eldest son of the Laval family. Unfortunately, he had recognised us as well, and thought he would take the opportunity whilst he was well into his cups and away from the court to openly tell me in front of the entire tavern what he thought of me. He called me a cursed bitch who wasn’t even worthy of being downstairs with the tavern whores. He told me that his younger brother had contracted the malichor and wondered if slitting my throat would cure him,” she told her.

“That wretched boy. I will ensure he pays for this public scene, I promise you that,” her mother nodded, deep in thought, “So that is when you punched him?”

“Not entirely,” Genevieve said, “It was then that dear Constantin attempted to come to my rescue. He denounced him, threatened to have his tongue for the threats against his fair cousin, and told him that he would regret ever laying eyes on me. At which point the Laval boy laughed and told Constantin that he was a weaselly little bastard and his father would disown him before he ever disappointed everyone enough to take the throne. He then knocked Constantin to the ground and was going to attack him. I grabbed my mug and threw it at him to get his attention away from Constantin… And that is when I punched him.”

“I see.”

Her mother rose from her desk and paced to the window looking out across her view of the city, quiet for a long moment.

Genevieve took a deep breath, but held her head high, “I know my duty, mother, and my duty will always be to protect Constantin. Through whatever means necessary. It wasn’t the situation for words, and I would do it again in a heartbeat. If you wish to punish me for that, I will accept it, but I will not regret my actions.”

The Princess de Sardet turned to look back at her daughter, letting out a drawn out sigh, “I need time to think on this. For now, return to your room and I will make sure someone sees to your hand… But thank you for telling me the truth. I will make sure appropriate punishments are dealt out.”

~*~*~

It was later that evening as she sat curled up in her armchair by the fire reading a book, that she heard her door open. She smiled to herself, not even looking up. There was only one person who ever came in without knocking.

“Good evening, dear cousin,” she said.

“My fair cousin, I have been desperate to come here to speak with you,” Constantin said, eagerly taking his usual seat in the chair opposite hers, “Once we were hauled back here by the guards, and then separated to be lectured by our mothers, I haven’t had the time to thank you.”

She set her book down, “You don’t need to thank me.”

“I do,” he nodded, “Had you not been there with me, I do not know what would have happened.”

“You wouldn’t have started a fight with a boy nearly twice the size of you,” she pointed out with a smirk.

“The brute started it himself when he insulted you,” he said, “I could not stand to hear him say such foul things about you.”

“I can handle myself, Constantin,” she reminded him.

“I know, but we look after each other. It’s what we do… Though you are more likely to be the one looking after me. My lucky star. Always there to pull me out of my fires… I cannot believe that you truly broke his nose,” he said with a hum of laughter.

“And near broke my hand doing it,” she said, raising her bandaged hand. A healer had dealt with it for her, but had told her to rest it for the evening to prevent any further damage.

“Has your mother doled out any punishment yet?” he asked, “My father was furious, hearing that I was nearly part of a bar brawl in broad daylight. He was in the middle of lecturing me about disappointment and responsibility when your mother came in to talk to him. He sent me to my room and I’ve not heard a thing since.”

“Neither have I,” she admitted, “I’m starting to find this lack of clarity worse than any punishment they come up with.”

It was then that a soft knock came at the door. Genevieve rose to her feet, calling out for them to enter.

Her mother swept into the room, greeting her nephew with a respectful nod.

“The Prince and I have been in discussion,” she told them, “The Laval boy has received his due justice for his actions in the tavern. It is safe to say that their family is now in disgrace for so openly insulting and nearly assaulting the prince’s son and niece. As for the two of you… Though you prevented a worse fight from occurring, you both still snuck out of the palace without informing anyone, spent the afternoon in a tavern, and then injured a young man of the nobility. Whatever your intentions, this is something that cannot be ignored. You will both gather in the courtyard immediately after breakfast tomorrow.”

“What for?” Genevieve asked.

“You will find out in the morning. For now, rest well, both of you. You have a long day ahead of you,” she said with a quirk of her eyebrow and she left the room, leaving the two cousins staring at each other dumb-founded.

~*~*~

The next morning after an awkwardly quiet breakfast, the pair made their way to the courtyard as instructed, neither of them knowing what to expect. They found the Princess de Sardet waiting for them with a man of the Coin Guard, older than them by ten years, dark hair shorn at the sides, scars marking his face.

“If my endless instruction on the matters of court cannot keep you both from trouble after all these years, you both need to know what to do when trouble finds you,” she said, then looked to the man beside her, “This is Kurt, our Master of Arms. He will be taking on your combat instruction from now on.”

Both Genevieve and Constantin’s eyes went wide as they looked from him to her.

“Combat?” Constantin asked, voice dry.

“Yes, dearest nephew,” she nodded, “You must both be prepared for whatever life may throw at you. Your lessons with Kurt will be worked into your daily schedule, but you will be with him all day today. Learn from him. His lessons may one day save your life.”

She gave a regarding nod to Kurt, who returned it with, then she left them in the courtyard with him. They both looked at each other before Kurt let out a gruff chuckle, folding his arms across his chest.

“So, Your Excellencies,” he said, “I hear that someone needs to teach you dainties how to properly break a man’s nose without breaking your hand… Let’s get started.”

[badchoicesposts]

In A Land Of Myth...

Chapter 7

Summary: When Selene, a young sorceress, arrived in Stormholt she had every intention of remaining anonymous. King Constantine Rys had strict rules on sorcery. The act itself was punishable by death, and she had no desire to be burnt at the stake for her “crimes”. However, it becomes increasingly difficult for her to remain unseen when she becomes Prince Liam’s personal maidservant, and it seems that it’s her job to protect him from everyone that wants to kill him.

Author’s Note: This AU is a cross between TRR, The Crown and The Flame, and BBC’s Merlin. Merlin follows the tale of King Arthur and the sorcerer Merlin. Merlin comes to Camelot where magic is outlawed and is made Prince Arthur’s servant. 

Disclaimer: You do not have to watch the show to understand this fic, but it is based on the BBC show Merlin so the story line will be similar. I don’t own the plot to Merlin or any of the TRR characters.

Pairing: Liam x MC (Selene), Drake x MC, Platonic!Bastien x MC

Taglist: @flowerpowell​​​, @bobasheebaby​​​, @alexintheskyy​​​, @slytherincursebreaker​​​, @kingliam2019​​​, @furiousherringoperatortoad​​​, @goldenbirdcrystalcage​​​, @burnsoslow​​​, @zilch3 

Let me know if you would like to be added to or removed from the taglist!

Catch Up: Masterlist

Selene sighed tiredly from her place atop her horse as she, Drake, and Liam rode through the forest and back to Stormholt. The hunting trip they were on had been long and uneventful, and she was getting restless. 

“There’s a small tavern up ahead. Why don’t we stop for a pint of Skullcracker Ale?” Liam said, shooting her a sideways glance. 

Selene let out a groan.

“Can we just go home?” she asked, looking over to Drake for sympathy. 

“I’m okay with stopping,” he responded with a smirk, causing her to glare in his direction. 

The two men shared a smile and rode ahead of her, causing her to roll her eyes and follow after them off the path they were travelling and to the tavern. They dismounted their horses, and Selene tried her best to keep from scrunching up her face as the smell of alcohol filled her nose. The barmaid, a squat woman with long brown tresses, approached them as the boys sat down at one side of the table, and Selene settled herself at the other. 

“Well, aren’t you handsome,” the woman said, smiling flirtatiously. 

Drake’s entire face turned red, and he sputtered out a quick thanks, much to the woman’s surprise. 

“Oh, sorry. I was talking about your friend here,” she said, making eyes at Liam and causing Drake to blush even further. 

Selene stifled a laugh as she watched him shift uncomfortably, while Liam simply smiled at the woman modestly. 

“I just love those eyes,” she said continuing to smile at him. “What can I get for you three.” 

Liam ordered for them, and the woman wandered back over the the bartop, allowing Selene to finally burst out in laughter.

“It’s okay, Drake. I think you’re pretty handsome,” she said with a smirk, causing his face to flush again. 

He glared over at her and she was about to respond when the door to the tavern was thrown open and an imposing looking man entered. Selene noted that the room seemed to go silent almost immediately. All of the patrons, who were just previously conversing jovially, immediately stopped talking and watched as he made his way over to the barmaid. 

“Business seems good. You should have no problem giving me my share,” he said to her in a low, grumbling voice. 

The woman looked at him with a mixture of fear and hatred and threw a few coins onto the counter in front of her. 

“Some days are better than others,” she said in a quiet voice.

The man was obviously unsatisfied with her answer. He counted through the coins with a look of distaste. 

“Where’s the rest?” 

“This is all we can spare.”

“Give me the rest. I won’t ask again!” he growled, swiftly pulling a knife out of his pocket and holding it to the woman’s neck. 

Selene watched as Liam immediately rose to his feet and approached them. She and Drake shared a nervous look, both knowing that this wasn’t going to end well. 

“Take your hands off of her,” Liam instructed, his voice hard.

The man turned slowly in his spot, sizing Liam up with an intimidating look on his face. After a moment, he smiled. The action was full of malice, and Selene wanted to point out that they wouldn’t have to be dealing with this if they had just listened to her and went straight home. He whistled loudly, and the door to the tavern slammed open again. Everyone turned to look at the door, and three men, each more intimidating than the last, entered the bar. 

“Oh, for the love of god,” Selene grumbled under her breath as she watched Liam duck under the first man’s oncoming fist.

All hell broke loose and everyone rose to their feet as the three other men began to approach Liam as well. Drake and Selene ran to his aid as most people simply watched on in shock. Drake grabbed one of the men by the back of his shirt, and the two became locked in a heated fight as Selene grabbed a nearby jug of mead and slammed it over the head of another.

Her actions seemed to shock the barmaid out of her previous stupor, and she immediately jumped into the fight herself, wanting to defend her property. All around them people began jumping into the mix as well, a man with short brown hair and bright blue eyes fighting the most enthusiastically. 

The man who Selene had attacked looked at her in surprise for a moment before advancing on her. She backed away slowly, wishing she had a sword with her. Bas and Drake had taught her how to swordfight, but she had never done any hand to hand combat. She looked around for something to hit him with but was pulled out of her search by the sound of a loud cry. She whipped her head around to see her opponent lying on the floor, the man with the blue eyes shooting her a smile before moving on to help Drake. 

“Beaumont?” Drake cried out in shock, taking in the other man’s face for the first time as he dodged a punch. 

“Hey, Drake!” the man called Beaumont said happily. 

Selene couldn’t help but notice how chipper he looked even though they were in the middle of a fight and wondered how Drake knew him. The two of them took down the man together, and the original debt collector, who had been battling with Liam the entire time looked around and noticed that he was outnumbered. He pulled out the knife once again and lunged at Liam. In the blink of an eye, Beaumont pushed Liam out of the way, the knife lodging in his side and causing him to fall to the ground. 

“Maxwell!” Liam called out in concern, rushing to his side as Drake lunged towards the thug and tackled him to the ground. 

Selene moved to Liam’s side and checked for the man’s pulse. It was weak, but still present. Apparently spending time with Xinghai and Hana had taught her a thing or two about medicine.

“He’s still alive, but we need to get him to Xinghai now,” she said, as a few patrons of the bar moved forward to help Drake restrain the debt collector. 

Liam nodded in understanding, and Selene helped him support Maxwell’s weight to take him outside. She watched as he hoisted his body over his horse and climbed onto the animal as well. Drake joined them soon after, and the four of them immediately set off, wanting to reach Stormholt as soon as possible. They finally arrived in front of the castle, and Drake and Liam immediately began carrying the still bleeding Maxwell inside. Selene ran after them and was surprised to hear Hana exclaim Maxwell’s name in shock as they carried him into the physicians quarters.

Selene bit back her questions about the man’s identity and set to work trying to help Hana stop the bleeding. Liam and Drake left after a few minutes, Liam instructing her to stay with Maxwell until he woke up, and she sat quietly while Xinghai and Hana bustled around him. After stopping the bleeding and making sure he was in stable condition, the three of them carried him to Hana’s bedroom and placed him on the bed so that he would be able to rest in peace.

Selene paced around the room as he slept, anxiously waiting for him to wake up. Maxwell had saved their lives in the tavern today. Without him the fight probably would have carried on for a lot longer and would have been more deadly. If he hadn’t pushed Liam out of the way then he probably would have been the one to get caught by the knife. After a few hours, Maxwell finally began to stir, and Selene approached the bed with a goblet of water as he opened his eyes.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, helping him sit up and take a sip of water.

“Like I got stabbed,” he winced out before flashing her a small smile. “I’m Maxwell.”

“So I’ve heard. I’m Selene,” she said with a smile, sitting down next to him on the edge of the bed. 

“It’s nice to meet you, Selene,” he said, attempting to make himself more comfortable. 

“Thank you for what you did. You saved Liam’s life.”

“It’s no big deal. It just looked like you could use the help,” he waved her comment off with another smile. 

“It is a big deal. Not everyone would have taken a knife to the stomach for a stranger,” she said before rethinking her words. “Well, I guess you’re not a stranger. It seems I’m the only one around here who doesn’t know who you are.”

His face fell slightly at her words, but he recovered quickly, placing the same easygoing smile on his face that he had worn since waking up. 

“I left Stormholt a while ago, so I’m not surprised you haven’t heard of me,” he said. “Are you new around here?”

Selene nodded in response. 

“I’ve been here for just a bit over two months. Bastien was a friend of my mother’s, and he took me in,” she explained. 

“A friend?” he asked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively and causing her to laugh. 

“I may or may not have been scheming up a way of getting them back together,” she admitted with a guilty smile. “I haven’t figured it out just yet, though. It’s tough when she lives so far away from here.”

She didn’t know why, but she felt immediately at ease with Maxwell. It was as if she had known the man for years.

“Did you grow up around here?” she asked, turning the conversation back to him in attempts to find out how everyone knew him. 

“Yeah, I actually grew up with Liam, Leo, Drake, and Hana,” he said.

Selene noted the way he paused after saying this, obviously a bit uncomfortable by the topic. 

“It’s okay if you don’t want to explain,” she quickly said, not wanting to force him to speak. 

“It’s alright. My father was actually a knight,” he continued.

“You come from a noble family?” 

“More of a disgraced noble family,” he mumbled softly, causing her to raise her brows in question. “He was Queen Eleanor’s older brother.”

“You and Liam are cousins?” she asked in shock. Maxwell only nodded in response. 

“My father died in battle a few years ago, and when my brother Bertrand started looking closer into our house’s finances, he realized that we were broke. Apparently my father wasn’t as good at handling money as we originally thought. We went to Constantine for help, but all he did was thank us for his service and wave us off, so we left, and with that the Beaumont name became a joke. Bertrand and I parted ways and we haven’t seen each other since.”

The fact that Constantine turned away family was unsettling. She couldn’t even imagine how that must have felt to Maxwell and his brother. In their time of need, he didn’t even consider being there for them. 

“I’m sorry that happened to you,” she said. “I want to be surprised that Constantine refused to help, but I can’t say that I am. What have you been doing since then?”

“I move around a lot, never really stay in one place. Sometimes I make money from tournaments, and I do some odd jobs here and there, but nothing consistent,” he responded with a shrug. 

They sat in a comfortable silence for a few moments, before Selene rose to her feet.

“I’ll go tell Xinghai that you’re up. He’ll probably want to check you out,” she said, bidding him farewell and exiting the room.

 She stopped briefly to speak to Xinghai and then made her way to Liam’s quarters to inform him of Maxwell’s progress, before returning her and Bastien’s shared chambers. She leaned over to rub behind Chance’s ears, and the dog responded by licking her chin happily.

“Selene, I heard about what happened at the tavern. I’m glad you’re alright,” Bastien greeted her with a warm smile and a look of relief. 

He motioned for her to sit down and join him for dinner, and she obliged, silently picking at her meal while she mulled over Maxwell’s words.

“You’re quiet tonight,” he said softly after they had finished eating. 

Selene looked up and observed his face silently, searching for the right words.

“If it came down to it… in battle… would you use magic if it would save your life?” she finally managed to ask.

Bastien seemed startled at her question. 

“What?”

“If it came down to using magic and dying, would you use it?” she asked again, more insistently this time. 

“Why do you ask?”

Selene let out a long breath and tried to ignore the stinging in her eyes. 

“It’s just that… everyone’s father seems to have died in battle. Madeleine’s, Maxwell’s. Even Drake’s. I never realized how dangerous your job was before,” she said, wiping away a stray tear aggressively.

“For over twenty years my only duty has been to Stormholt and to my king, but that changed the minute you made me drop that goblet of wine. I promise you, I’m going to be around for quite some time,” he reassured with a soft smile. 

Selene let out a chuckle and wiped away a few more tears. 

“Good,” she said, wrapping her arms around him and settling into his embrace for a few moments. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

The next morning Selene went about her day as usual, Chance following behind her as she made her way to Liam’s chambers and began cleaning through them. He had already been up and ready by the time she got to him, and they planned on visiting Maxwell with Drake later to help him get moved into another room in the palace. 

“When did you get a dog?” Drake asked her when the three of them met up after lunch. 

Liam bent down and began petting Chance’s back, the dog soon rolling over so that the prince would rub his stomach. 

“Oh, you know, a while ago,” she offered pathetically as he eyed the animal suspiciously.

Liam had met Chance several times because Selene was almost always at his side since she had become his servant, but Drake had never met the dog before, and Selene hoped that he couldn’t see the resemblance between him and the statue he once was. When Liam had finally removed his hands from the dog, Chance immediately walked over to Drake, jumping up on his new friend and begging for attention. She smiled to herself as she watched him interact with the animal, leaning over to give him a thorough scratch behind the ear. But she could still see him eyeing Chance critically, so she whistled to call him back to her side. 

“Let’s go get Maxwell!” she said, already taking off down the hall in attempts to change the subject as soon as possible. 

The two men shrugged at each other, confused at the sudden change, but followed after her nevertheless. Maxwell was already up and dressed when they arrived at the physician’s quarters. His eyes lit up when he saw Chance.

“How are you feeling?” Selene asked him as he wandered out of Hana’s room to greet them.

Selene noted even though he was smiling at them brightly, he was walking with his body hunched over ever so slightly, and it was obvious that he was still in pain. He lowered himself to the ground, which obviously took quite a bit of effort, and allowed Chance to crawl into his lap. 

“I feel great. Xinghai says I’m good to go!” 

“Go?” Liam immediately questioned, his brows furrowed in concern. “I’ve had a room set up for you in the palace.”

Maxwell seemed to perk up at his words, but the moment was gone almost as quickly as he had said them. 

“I’ve been staying at an inn near the tavern. I should probably be heading back.” 

“You should stay until you heal up completely,” Selene said, motioning to the side of his body where he was injured. 

“Selene’s right. You saved my life. I insist,” Liam piped up. 

Maxwell still looked a bit apprehensive, and Selene elbowed Drake roughly in the side. 

“Ouch!” he exclaimed, clutching his side and glaring at her. “What was that for?”

 Selene raised her eyebrows and inclined her head in Maxwell’s direction. Drake rolled his eyes in response but looked over to Maxwell pointedly. 

“What they said,” he said, cringing slightly in pain and causing Selene to glare over at him again. 

Drake rolled his eyes at her, and she made to elbow him a second time when he held his hands up in surrender. 

“You should stay,” Drake finally said, pulling a satisfied smile from Selene. 

Maxwell finally seemed to relax and open up to the idea. 

“I should still head back to the inn. I have to get my things,” Maxwell said, saying goodbye to Xinghai and preparing to leave. 

“Let me! You shouldn’t be riding a horse right now,” Selene said. “As long as that’s okay with you, Liam.” 

“Of course. You should take Drake with you. I would accompany you myself, but I have some business to attend to,” Liam said. “You should head out, and I’ll show Maxwell to his room.”

Drake grumbled quietly to himself, still slightly rubbing his side, but he didn’t object. 

“Oh, come on. I didn’t even elbow you that hard,” Selene said with a smile as she grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the room. 

They said goodbye to Bastien, and as they mounted their horses, they took notice of how the sky turned an ominous shade of grey and psyched themselves up for what was sure to be a long day. 

[themadlostgirl]

A Little Lady

*Got a bit carried away with the backstory in the beginning but what are you gonna do?*

Prompt: Y/N is Peter’s best friend and she has to calm him down when the boys complain he’s too strict. Turns out he’s been paranoid about protecting her

Requested by: anon

Warnings: none

---

When I was a little kid I had heard tales of Neverland and wished to go there more than anything. It was a place of wonder and freedom that every child in the orphanage dreamed of. I heard that the way to go there was to wish on the second star to the right at the peak of the night. I waited until the orphanage had gone still and snores filled the air before I climbed out of bed and went to the window.

I found the star in the sky and clasped my hands together. “I wish to go to Neverland. Please. Please.”

I waited and waited searching the stars for...something. I wasn’t sure what.

Then out of the darkness something flew closer and closer till it was at my window. It was a boy.

“Are you the one that called me?” He raised an eyebrow at me, “Not the usual riff raff I’m used.”

“What are you?” I asked the boy.

“What kind of question is that? Asking what I am before even asking my name.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. What is your name? My name is Y/N.”

“Peter Pan at your service, little lady,” He bowed and took my small hand in his. He gave it a small kiss that made me giggle and my cheeks warm. “I heard that you want to go to Neverland.”

“Yes! Yes I do! Can you take me there?”

“Yes I can. But I won’t.”

“Why not?” I stomped my foot.

“You’re a bit too young for the likes of Neverland. The island would chew you up and spit you out.”

“I thought Neverland was a place of wonder where you never have to grow up and there are no stinky adults to tell you what to do.”

“It is but it’s not exactly safe for...how old are you? Five?”

“I’m six and a half!”

“Excuse me, but you must be at least twelve years old before you can become a Lost One on Neverland. Call on me in five and a half years and we’ll see about bringing you to Neverland.”

“Five and a half years is such a long time to wait though.”

“It’ll go by in the blink of an eye. If you should find yourself in a tough spot or just feeling lonely then call on the second star to the right. I’ll come by.” he laid a hand over his heart, “My word is my bond.”

“Fine…” I grumbled, “Before you go though could I...could I have another kiss?”

He grinned and reached into his pocket and withdrew an acorn. “There you are.”

“That’s an acorn!”

“No, it’s a kiss.” he dropped it into my hands, “One you can hold onto until next we meet again.”

“Well, can I give you a kiss?”

“Why not,” he shrugged and brought his face closer so I could leave a tiny peck on his cheek. “Now you go back to bed. Sweet dreams, little one.”

“Sweet dreams, Peter Pan.”

That was my first meeting with Peter Pan. The years would go by and I would call to Peter Pan when I was sad or feeling alone. At the end of our time I would ask Peter if I could give him a kiss and each time I gave him a peck on the cheek. I put the acorn--the kiss--he had given me on a chain and wore it around my neck always. He became my friend. My very best friend.

When I turned twelve I asked Peter if I could go to Neverland with him.

“Sorry, little lady,” He shook his head, “You aren’t quite ready for Neverland.”

“But I’m twelve years old. You told me that I had to be at least twelve years old to go to Neverland and now I am. Why can’t I go?”

“You may be old enough but you are not yet strong enough, I'm afraid. Try again next year, little lady.” he said.

I crossed my arms and turned away from him. “Stop pouting,” he rapped his knuckles on top of my head, “It’s not forever. I promise. My word is my bond.”

“Junk bond.” I muttered, “You do promise I will go to Neverland one day, right?”

“I promise, can I get my kiss?” he smirked.

“Of course,” I smirked right back. He waited with his cheek towards me. I looked around and found a thimble laying on the windowsill. I placed it in his palm. “A kiss.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong but this is a thimble, little lady,”

“No, it’s a kiss.” I repeated the words he spoke to me five and a half years ago, “One you can hold onto until next we meet again.”

“I’m afraid I’m becoming an influence on you.” he tucked the thimble in his pocket. “Thank you for such a shiny kiss. Now off to bed. Sweet dreams.”

“Sweet dreams.” I climbed back into bed. Every year when I grew older I would ask Peter to take me to Neverland and every year he found a reason so tell me no. It wasn’t till I was nearing my seventeenth year that he finally took me away to Neverland with him.

Flying over the island and seeing it for the first time was more amazing than I ever dreamed. We landed in a camp located in the midst of the grand jungle. There Peter introduced me to the Lost Boys. I slotted in perfectly amongst them. It was like Neverland had been waiting for me.

I don’t know why Peter took so long to bring me here. I had been there for over three weeks and it wasn’t at all filled with the reckless abandon I was expecting. Peter made it sound like you had to be some kind of warrior to live on Neverland. But to my surprise it was well ordered and not in the least bit dangerous and crazy.

I was in camp chatting with some of the boys when an argument started to break out nearby. Everyone in the camp stopped what they were doing to see what was going on. There was Peter and he was being accosted by a group of the Lost Boys.

“We can’t take it anymore! If I wanted a place full of rules and a stick in the mud up my ass about every little thing then I would have stayed right where I was before I came here.” The boy shouted in Peter’s face.

The fury Peter was holding back from unleashing outright was wafting off him like a fog. “Oh dear,” I rushed over to them and stepped between Peter and the boys. “Hi, Peter, look at me.”

That chilling green gaze landed on me and softened slightly. “Y/N…give me a moment. I have an issue to deal with.”

“I’m sure you do. How about before you come sit with me for a spell.”

“Not right now--”

“Peter,” I grabbed his arm, “Sit down.”

“I don’t--”

“You’re agitated and not making any sensible decisions. Sit. Down.” I told him more sternly.

I sat down on a log and he reclined in the space between my legs. I ran my hands through his hair and he began to relax.

“Better?” I whispered and he hummed contently in response.

I shot a look at the moronic Lost Boys and they scattered. You would think they’d get some sense about them. Peter’s temper isn’t exactly a secret.

“You need to try and have more patience with them. I’m not always going to be here to cool you down.”

“How can anyone have patience with such imbeciles?” he grumbled.

“If I can you can. Are you calmed down?” He nodded. “Now are you going to tell me why you’re being so strict with the boys? I know this isn’t how Neverland should be.”

“I’m not--”

“Peter, it is obvious that you have been really on edge these past couple of weeks. It is aggravating the boys and to be honest it’s annoying me too.”

“I don’t wanna tell you.”

“Why?”

“Because I know how you’ll react.”

“What is it?” I tugged on his hair when he didn’t say anything. “Peter Elizabeth Pan!”

“My middle name isn’t Elizabeth.”

“It is when you’re keeping secrets.”

He lapsed back into silence.

“Peter Constantine Antionette Eucardo Ulysses--”

“Fine! Just stop giving me fifty different middle names.” He sat up and turned towards me, “The reason I’ve been so hard on everyone is to keep you safe.”

“Safe from what? Is someone out to get me?”

“No, but Neverland is really dangerous and I don’t want my best friend getting hurt. I couldn’t be able to live with myself if something bad happened to you when I could have prevented it.”

“Oh Peter…” I groaned, “Really? You’ve been down everyone’s throat because you don’t think I can fend for myself?”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t fend for yourself. I know you’re not an idiot or not resourceful but you are still getting used to this place and I just don’t want you getting into a bad situation.” he reached for my hand but I pulled back.

“Peter, is that why you kept me from Neverland for so long? Because you wanted to keep me safe?” I narrowed my eyes at him.

“Yes.” he stared down at the ground.

I couldn’t stay angry at him. He thought he was doing the right thing because he cares. I can’t keep a grudge against him for that.

“You silly boy,” I tweaked his nose, “Keeping me in a bubble because you’re scared for me isn’t doing anyone any favors. You’re not always going to be able to keep me out of trouble or from getting hurt. It’s all a part of life.”

“What do I do when you get hurt though? Stand around and feel guilty?”

“That’s the great thing about being a friend, Peter, you can help me feel better. It’s like when I was a little kid and I would call you whenever I was lonely or sad. You would come by and cheer me up.”

“It feels like those days were forever ago. You were just a wee thing. Tiny and giggling over a simple kiss on the back of your hand.” he played with the acorn around my neck.

“Yes. I also made the mistake of thinking you charming. Things change.” I rolled my eyes.

“I am plenty charming, little lady.”

“You’re a right bother is what you are, Peter Pan.” I smiled at him, “A bother that I love.”

“Awe, you love me?”

“Don’t go getting a big head. You’re my best friend, of course I love you. It’s just a shame you’re such a codfish.”

“Hey!”

[kclenhartnovels]

Nurse Me with Constantine and Delgos

[Again, minimal editing because I’m tired. Nonetheless, I’m rather proud of this one. TW for blood, torture, and death mentions.]

The border dispute should have been settled with little more than a herald and a show of force. Constantine barely looked at the report before he signed off to send his men, and even Delgos was fairly certain it would take no more than a cartographer.

They should have known better, when dealing with King Kendrick Ciel.

Of the twenty soldiers, the cartographer, and the herald that went to meet the Cielans at the border, all that returned was the cartographer with his cart of maps piled with dismembered bodies instead. By the time it reached the castle, the smell wafted well ahead of the tired mules.

“Who does he think he is?” Constantine held a cloth over his nose and mouth, his eyes tearing as he stood as close to the wagon as he dared. The castle guard already clustered to carefully unload and piece back together the bodies for funeral.

Delgos took Constantine’s hand, seeing the King’s knees start to quiver. “He thinks brutality can sway us. I’ll gather a larger contingent and ride out to meet his men, before they try to press any further in.”

Constantine squeezed his fingers. “I’m going with you.”

“Sire–”

“That wasn’t a suggestion, Delgos.” His order sounded thin through the cloth, and the way he leaned against Delgos’ arm, but it was enough that the guard gave no further protest.

No matter how much he thought it was a terrible decision.

The castle sat near enough to the northern border that the ride out was not long or hard, just winding paths through thick groves of pine, passing the smaller tributaries that fed the large river that served as the eastern border miles away. Scouts ran ahead, reporting back every few hours to assure there was no sign of the enemy yet, and redirecting them wherever there was a blocked road.

“There are so many trees down,” Constantine complained, his jaw clacking together as his horse jumped yet another broken pine in the trail.

“One of the scouts asked about it when they checked in with Roger’s Ford. The last winter brought so much heavy snow that it felled all the weaker trees. It made the rivers flood for almost all of the spring thaw, so most of the ferries and fords are still recovering, too. It almost swept away the bridge at Roger’s Ford.”

“If there is a bridge there, then why is it called Roger’s Ford?” he asked scathingly, wiping blood from his split lip, the squeeze of his legs making his horse prance and snort.

Delgos smiled. “Well, it used to be a ford, in your grandfather’s time. I guess the name stuck.”

“How far are we from the border now? We must be close.”

“After we make camp tonight, we should reach it by midday tomorrow.” Delgos pulled his horse up short when another scout came doubling back, dripping water and barely controlling his panicked horse.

“Cielans on the trail ahead, sir! There’s–an army.”

Arrows shrieked through the drooping pines, and Constantine’s horse reared, braying alarm and throwing him from its back.

“Formation! Get shield up and keep together!” Delgos called, as a second rally of arrows made the branches shake and men scream. He held the reins in one hand, wheeling his horse around and leaning down to grab Constantine by the arm. The King scrambled in the mud, his boots sliding on the wet needles as he clung to Delgos’ arm. Men leapt from the thick underbrush on either side of them, silver dragons embroidered on their chests and silver blades flashing in their hands.

“Formation!” Delgos ordered again, his startled men scrambling to turn their horses on the narrow path, others jumping down from the animals to face the ambush head-on. He yanked harder to pull Constantine upright and get him on the horse with him, when he felt an impact in his lower back. Starbursts blackened his vision, and in the moment where the world stopped, he landed on his side in the path. Shouts of men and horses thundered in his ears, Constantine pulled at his arm, the trees shook against the darkening sky, and the invasive blackness and ringing quiet finally settled over.

———–

“Patient spiders catch the flies

They wait and spin all day

But dragons need no patience for

All the world’s their prey

Wood to ash and flesh to bone

Sun to rain and life to death

When you hear the dragon’s roar

You’d better count your final breath!”

Constantine swallowed a whimper behind the rough gag, the ache in his arms from their awkward binding a mere annoyance compared to the tightness of his chest. He twisted in the saddle, but couldn’t see around the burly man keeping him from falling off, much less anything else behind the whooping, singing formation of soldiers. Vendave’s soldiers had scattered, and the dead were left among the pine needles and fallen horses. Delgos had been left there, laying still in the fading light. An overnight camp and a ride at the break of day had given Constantine hope of rescue, hope that his guard would sneak in, alive and well, but the hope seemed fainter at every step of the horse.

“No need to keep squirming, Your Majesty,” the rider assured chipperly, a carved dragon in his helm sporting a gemstone eye. “We’re almost there.”

The trail split ahead of them, and the dragons made their way towards the better-used half, the dirt path giving way to tightly-packed cobblestones and the wide entrance into the walled and stitled city of Roger’s Ford. The Cielans were greeted warmly, and if Constantine hadn’t been so worried about his guard, he would have been more angered by their treason. The walk through the town was brief, a blur of decorated nets hanging above doorways, and colorful banners that stretched across the center square.

“Patrol the roadways, and keep an eye out for any prowling lions,” the gemstone dragon ordered, dismounting and pulling Constantine down with him. “Report in every hour.”

“Yes, sir!”

Constantine dragged his feet, and his efforts were rewarded by being unceremoniously slung over the soldier’s shoulder. It was a short walk of shame, before a tavern door swung open, and the King was dropped onto a wooden table as if he were a slaughtered elk from a prize hunt.

“A gift for you, sire. We found a few lost lions in the woods, and thought you’d like the look of this one.”

Although Constantine had heard plenty about the heir to the Cielan throne, this was the first time he had seen Kendrick, though he had never expected his first impression to be at this angle. Kendrick had his boots propped on the table, and he didn’t move even when Constantine was deposited there. The angle made his already long legs seem to go on forever. His hands were folded comfortably in his lap, keeping the front of his silver-embroidered tunic smooth, showing off the impressive dragon that curved across his lean chest. He smiled, the expression wrinkling the edges of his dark eyes, as hawkish as the curve of his nose and angle of his jaw.

“I don’t know, seems a bit small to be a lion,” Kendrick mused, nudging the bound royal with his toe. “You sure you didn’t catch a house cat instead?”

“Shall we put it back, Your Majesty?”

“No, not yet. I’m sure we could find use for a mouser somewhere.”

Constantine thrashed for a moment, but finally got his legs beneath him, enough to sit up and give Kendrick a proper glare. He tried to speak, but got a mouthful of cloth for his troubles, his frustrated growl only making the other King laugh.

“My father used to talk about the Runnemede line, how they were made of stone and fire. Why don’t you and the boys see what he’s made of, Captain? Find your weakest dogs, and let them have a go at him. There’s a decent clearing by the river. Just don’t let him give up and drown himself, huh? If he really is a lion, I’ll want his hide to stretch in front of my fire later on.”

Constantine’s muffled protest was wholly ignored, and the gemstone dragon pulled him off the table by his bound arms. He hit the ground hard, barely getting his legs under him to avoid being dragged along completely. The last he saw of Kendrick was a sharp smile and a condescending wave of his fingers, before the tavern door swung shut again.

“Rumor has it you’re good with a sword, little lion,” the Captain said conversationally, as if Constantine could answer. “Well, we cut our teeth on swords up north. We’ll see if you’ve got any claws after all.”

The edge of town broke into smaller fishing huts, and eventually gave way to a sandy sloping bank at the river’s yawning mouth, trees thinning for a few hundred years until they met the dark forest again. Early morning light dappled the ground, and a dozen or so soldiers lounged by the water, one of them casually fishing, the others tending to armor and weapons, chatting easily.

“Captain Everlin, what did you bring us?” one of the soldiers called in greeting.

“A man of cloth and straw.” He dropped Constantine on the sand, and leaned down only long enough to cut the tight ropes. “Cut a few branches and test him out, huh?”

Constantine ripped the gag out of his mouth with his half-numb fingers, and pushed himself unsteadily to his feet. “Do you have any idea who I am?”

Everlin smiled, looping the cut ropes casually around his hand. “We know exactly who you are, Constantine Runnemede, son of Silas, son of Marius, King of what was formerly known as Vendave. Recent annex of the Kingdom of Ciel.”

One of the other soldiers tossed Constantine a rough wooden sword. “You’re target practice.”

Constantine caught the sword awkwardly, and quickly tried to rub the life back into his arms. “You don’t own Vendave yet, not by a long shot,” he snarled. “She will beat you back with every breath.”

“Until her last breath,” Everlin agreed. “Which will be soon. On your right, Your Majesty.”

Constantine’s sword caught the edge of his attacker’s just before it struck his shoulder. Pain rippled up his tingling arms from the impact, but he forced the other sword aside with a snarl. He countered almost immediately, striking the soldier just above the hip with a swift undercut. The men at the riverbank stood, forming a rough ring around the pair, and passing out more of the practice weapons.

“Oh, he does know how to use a sword!” Everlin crowed. “Maybe the lion’s got a tooth or two.”

Constantine ignored the ripple of laughter, moving into a stance of long practice to face the other soldier. The dragon grinned, but his next stab was sidestepped, and Constantine jabbed the end of his wooden sword as hard as he could into the soldier’s stomach. He fell to the sand, the air forced out of him with a choked noise. The dragons around them laughed. Two more soldiers stepped into the ring.

The sword ring was like coming home again, and Constantine could hear his trainer’s voice in his ear. Step. Parry. Counter. Step. Sword point up. Watch your footing. Counter. Parry. Duck. Counter. Stay defensive. Watch your flank. Step. Parry. Counter. Too aggressive, young Prince. Parry. Parry. Counter. Step over the winded soldier. Block a hit to the face. Stay defensive. Counter. Blood on the sand. Laughter in his ears. Pain in his arms. Step. Parry. Counter. Pain. Blood. Laughter. Parry. Counter. Parry. Parry. Parry. Fuck–

The butt of a sword hit him just below the eye, and Constantine fell onto his back. The sun lanced onto his face, its height and the burning in his lungs and arms promising it had been a few hours. Soldiers crowded closer. The practice sword cracked against his ribs. He spat blood onto the sand.

“Get him back on his feet,” Everlin called. “Surely you’ve got more left in you, little lion?”

Constantine wasn’t sure if the hands that helped him up were more friendly or rough, but his ears rang and his vision blurred. He tasted blood. He picked up his wooden sword, the end of it splintered. He wanted to face the crowd and see Kendrick’s smug face, wanted to spit blood and proof that he was no house cat, but the Cielan King was nowhere to be seen. “Until my last breath,” Constantine snarled.

Everlin smiled. “That’s the idea, Your Majesty.”

The sun arched higher. Bruises blossomed. The line in the water broke from a large fish, snapping through the unattended line in the midst of the fight. Constantine could no longer see, sand and blood and tears forming a paste around his eyes. His arms swung again and again, his head throbbed, his knees shook. He hit the ground. He got up. Parry. Counter. Pain. He hit the ground. He got to his knees, but his legs would allow nothing further. The sun burned at its zenith. His body burned.

He hit the ground.

Constantine waited for a blow that never came. He took in a shuddering breath, but instead of laughter from the soldiers, his dull headache throbbed in time with shouts and calls, whistles breaking the stillness of the river. He measured his breath. His hands twitched, dully trying to remember. Parry. Counter. Step. He was still on his back. He pawed at his eyes, digging splinters deeper into his raw palms. One eye remained swollen shut, but the other cracked open, blinded by the cheerful sun.

“Con!”

Sand clouded the sunlight as Delgos slid to his knees beside the King, cradling his face in his hands. “Con, oh Gods what did they do to you?” Familiar fingers soothed over his bruised cheeks, and Constantine was sure that this was blissful death, and he didn’t care. If Delgos was there with him, then he would walk any bridge, no matter where it led. His bloody lips twitched, longing to smile in relief, and he let himself fall into the beckoning blackness at last.

When Constantine woke, he was certain he wasn’t dead; after all, the dead didn’t feel pain. His groan of protest was met with a soft touch, and he turned his cheek towards the press of Delgos’ calloused hand.

“Don’t move too much, Your Majesty. You’re safe,” Delgos assured, lips close to Constantine’s ear. “You’re safe.”

Safe, and if he shifted just enough he could feel that he was stripped of his filthy clothes, balm applied to his bruises, and open wounds wrapped with fresh cloth. More importantly, Delgos sat beside him. Alive. Safe.

Constantine choked, and when the first sob bubbled in his throat, Delgos was there, climbing onto the bed with him to cradle him in his lap.

“I thought you were dead,” Constantine rasped, his dry throat protesting each word, still feeling as if it were full of sand and splinters.

“Well, I thought you were dead as well, so we’re even,” Delgos soothed, sliding fingers into his dark hair and kissing his brow. “I rallied the men, and we drove the dragons back to the border. I’m sure they’ll be back again, but for now–”

Constantine pulled him closer by his collar, kissing him with bruised lips. “For now,” he whispered, “we still have breath to fight.”

Tag list: @wri-tten @gingerly-writing @knightedwriter @merigreenleaf @halfbloodlycan @lady-redshield-writes @lux-scriptum @golden-eyed-writer @theguildedtypewriter @homesteadhorner @perringwrites @no-url-ideas-tho @msmeaghanrey @haphazardlyparked @kaypier @cogesque @gettingitwrite @coppercreationcreator @sheeplymade @andtheotherwriter @herbs-and-syrup @arwallace @cyberphuck @writerightmegpie @panhasablog @she-writes-love @rrrawrf-writes @sheralynnramsey @katerinarevel

[silviasutton1989]

T.T.K. Ch. 9 “Friends” Part 2 NSFW*

 A/N: So here is part 2 guys!!! This one is a little longer than I like to do but that is only because chapter 10 SHIT HITS THE DAMN FAN!! and the ball just steam rolls downhill from there. I hope you guys are enjoying it so far!

Word Count: 2600 

Rating: NSFW (Sexual Conduct and course language)

Summary: We see how Drake and Riley's engagement party ends.

  Catch up: Chapter 1  1.2  2  3  4  5  6  7 8  9

Here! Here!” the group cheers as they clink their glasses together.

The friends played several games after their toast. The drinks and fun times continued well into the night.  Riley was dared to kiss someone and chose Olivia. Nevile failed his dare to get the waitress number. Maxwell convinced the Dj to let him play one song as Kiara Penelope, Riley and Hana danced on stage. 

Once back in the room Drake pulls his fiance to a quiet corner. Riley moans at the scandalous words he whispers into her ear before he takes her mouth in a bruising kiss.

“Ok you two, enough with the smooching. Let's play Never Have I Ever.” Olivia scolds. “Neville, you start."

“Ok… never have I ever had sex with anyone in this room.”  Everyone else in the room takes a sip of their drinks, except for Madeline.

“Never WILL you ever have sex with anyone period.” Yvonne states the group bursts into laughter, everyone except Neville who opens his mouth to speak but Madeline sticks a drink in his face, causing him to forget his anger almost entirely.

“So..” She says as she sips the reaming juices of her Pina Collade.

 “So New game.” She stands, her hips swaying to the beat from the music vibrating through the walls. “I’m going to guess who’s been with whom.” Her pointer finger wags at everyone in the room.

“Madeline that’s very intrusive..” Liam starts

“Ok Let’s go! Well 1’st ones easy Neville…nobody.” She and the group chuckles

“Next up Yvonne and Helen…that’s obvious. “  The two women giggle to each other. She looks at Penelope the poor girl can’t help but to go red as her eyes dart from two of her friends.

Madeline smirks and stands in front of the trembling lady. Like a lioness to her prey. “My my my looks like little Ms. Innocent gets around I see. So you’ve been with…”

“Too bad all the King’s guards aren’t here or this would actually be a fun game. Right Madeline?” She whips her tight blonde curls to see Olivia’s eyebrow arched her emerald eyes on fire.

Madeline stands and tightly clasping her hands together but unable to keep her balance. “Oh I’m sorry Olivia or should I call you Cherry, since that’s what lover boy here has been calling you all night.”

Olivia sucks in her teeth trying her best to seem calm. “Issac and I are just friends.”

“Friends my ass! He’s been rubbing on your thigh like it's a damn Genie bottle or something.”

“I agree” Liam mumbles. He scoffs as he looks at the two.

“Does the thought of me with Olivia irritate you Liam?” Issac straightens in his seat. The two men finally lock eyes for once the entire night. Liam’s knuckles are white as his grip on his glass tightens, he could see the brown liquid shake in it, as his knees vibrated against it.

“No I just think she could do a lot better than a lttle one-time fling.”

“I guess it’s safe to say that Liam and Olivia are more than friends too.” Madeleine, who is clearly very pleased with herself sits back into her seat. She crosses her legs “You go girl!” She snickers as she searches her empty glass for more liquor.

“Shut the hell up Madeline before I reach over there and shut you up myself.” Olivia says through gritted teeth.

Madeline pantomimes zipping her lips together while rocking in her seat. The room is dead silent. Issac and Liam haven’t broken eye contact yet. Everyone else in the room watches on, their eyes darting between the two men.

Yvonne and Helen devoted their attention to the whole scene seen as well.

“We should have some popcorn for this kind of drama.” Helen whispers to her friend.

“Shh… girl Issac is about to say something. I don’t know what is going on but I. Can’t. Breathe.”

Issac opens his mouth to speak again but Olivia places a hand on his knee.

“Hey how about another game? Yeah? Ok Riley truth or dare?” Olivia gives her a pleading look.

“Um Truth—“

“Wait I didn’t get to do my ‘Never have I ever’” Issac’s smile is wild his eyes are just as inflamed as they look into Liam’s bloodshot pupils.

“Never have I ever taken a certain someone’s virginity, after the guy she wanted to be with just couldn’t rise to the occasion.” He cocks his head slightly as he says the words “Rise” No one moves. “Oh wait I guess I did huh?” The sound of his laughter is the only noise in the room."That's some one time fling huh?" He say as he takes a sip of his drink. 

“Oh my god” Olivia puts her head in her hands, praying that she simply imagined what just happened. But through her fingers she could see Liam’s disappointed face.

“Wow Olivia so you saved yourself for Liam but then just gave it away to a commoner? Talk about slim pickings! Why didn’t you just bone Drake like Kiara” Madeline begins to hiccup through her words.

Olivia jumps to her feet towards the blonde drunk when a hand stops her. She looks up to see Riley who looks just as upset.

“Madeline I think it’s time for you to leave. Plus Issac is a Noble so clearly you're delusional.” Riley guides her friend back to her seat tightly keeping a grip on her hand.

“No he’s not…” Madeline says sing songsy.

“What the hell is she talking about? Issac is a Count...right? am I missing something here?" Riley looks around the room  at her quiet friends.

Issac finally looks away from the King, setting his eyes to Riley. “Come on Duchess you’ve been doing this unity tour for at least a month now how many Counts have you met?”

She stammers  trying to think.

“I’ll help you out you haven’t. Your King here took away my family’s duchy—“

“My father did that Issac, and all of that is resolved now.”

“What is resolved?”  Issac is at the edge of his chair ready to jump up at any second. “Your father may have taken my heritage but you…you just put salt in the damn wound giving it away to like a damn wedding gift.”

Riley gasps finally understanding, “So Valtoria is…was.”

“Yes it was my family's duchy. Constantine stripped us from our title and land, all but killed us. The only reason he didn’t do that was because he realized my parents were innocent. So what does he do? He gives us a spacious room at the palace. Hoping to compensate for selling it off. Providing us with a new title “Count" meaning companion of the Emperor”. a sarcastic laugh fills the room from the jilted man. "You could have fixed this. You choose not to because you don't care about anyone unless it effects you. You’re just like your father you know that?”

“Woah Issac you being a little harsh.” Drake interjects to defend his friend.

"Yeah you're right, Drake. Liam is such a nice guy. Tell me, Drake, have you ever figured out why you were locked out of the ball room the other week? 

“No but..."

"Ask your friend the King he knows. My little fling here told me all about it."

“Madeline I’m going to kill you!” Olivia snaps.

“What did I do?” She leans back into her chair she watches all three men with the cliched jaws and tight fist.

“Ok we can both play this game. Hey Hana do I have some news for you” Olivia states. 

“Save it Cherry.” Madeline hops to her feet stumbling  over to the confused Hana. “I will tell her myself.” She straightens her spine giving her best sober look. “Hana Lee I am in love with you. You are the most perfect person I have ever met. You are flawless and beautiful and sometimes you smell like bubblegum. Which on anyone else I would think is completely childish… but on you it’s intoxicating ...and sexy.” Madeline lets go of the breath she had been holding. She swallows, realizing how dry her mouth is. Her eyes finally focus onto the girl sitting before her. As she expected Hana was frowning. Her eyes filled with disgust and tears, exactly how Madeline pictured in her nightmares.

“Well…I….I just thought you should know.” She hurries to her seat grabbing her purse before heading to the door. “This party is lame I’m going home.” She let’s the door slam closed being her. Neville follows.

The vibration from the music of the club fills the room. Everyone looks to each other waiting for someone to speak, eventually deciding that enough was said already, they all begin to leave out the room.

Issac pulls Olivia back. He shuffles his feet for a second before running his fingers through his hair. He tried to look at her to figure out how upset she was but her demeanor was stoic as she crossed her arms that dark red eyebrow rose to its designated place.

“Jeez Liv I’m… well you know he had to find out some time… but I know I had no right to expose you in front of your friends but I…”

“I’m going to go check on Liam.” She turns for the door, Issac jumps in front of her his body blocking the doorway.

“Why can’t you just choose me for once?”

Olivia brushes past him. “I did. Remember?”

By the time Olivia made it out of the club she could see Liam heading to his car. She quickens her pace catching up to him before he reaches the door.

“Liam.” He turns around. “I just wanted to say. I’m sorry...

“Don’t apologize to me for who you decide to have sex with that’s your choice.’

“Wait..  No I’m apologizing for what he said about you being like your father, about you being a bad friend. He shouldn’t have said…”

“He’s right though” Liam leans against the black limo. The night air gave the two a chill, and by instinct Liam takes off his blazer wrapping it around Olivia. Not letting go of the jacket he pulls her in close. “I haven’t been a good friend to anyone lately.”

“Liam you have a lot to deal with. With the country in chaos you have assassins trying to… You’re not perfect. You don’t have to be perfect.”

As he holds the jacket around her she can feel his icy hands brushing against her arms. And like instinct she has his hands in hers filling them with warmth from her mouth, thawing his chilled palms with her breath. She hadn't even realized she done it until her looks up and sees his dark almond eyes looking at her in a way he never had.

Something in Liam just snaps. With his hands braced on either side of her cheeks he leans forward and brushes a soft kiss onto her lips, teasing her then quickly retreating, but not for long. One look into her wanton eyes and he was back for more. Much more. With a low grown he captures her lips again far more intensely this time. His tongue finding its entrance into her mouth. Her taste was intoxicating. By far sending him on a better high that anything he had in that club. He spins her so that her back is against the limo. His thoughts on propriety evaporated the second her limbs: arms and legs, are wrapped around his neck and waist.  His hips lean into her, pinning her to the car, showing her exactly what her body was doing to him.

“Oh Liam…” she manages to moan out once their lips part. He lowers his mouth to the valley of her neck tasting the sweet taste of her sweat. His hands grip her ass. His fingers daring to find her warmth just within reach

“Shit Liam we can’t do this. “ Olivia stands to her shaky feet, breathless and heady.

“You’re right. I think... I just hand too much to drink tonight. I’m sorry Olivia.” He takes a small step back trying to calm his body. "Do you want to ride back with me?"

“I should probably go find Issac.” She says as she moves passed him.

He wants to stop her but he couldn’t think of what to say, or why she shouldn’t go.  All he could get out is her name, but she doesn’t hear his call and is back inside the club.

It didn’t take long to find Issac. She knew exactly where he would be: at the bar. He sits alone, his eyes focused on the empty glass in front of him. She begins to walk over but watches as he starts to smile. No he’s laughing. Olivia hadn’t noticed that their was a woman sitting next to him until the long haired blonde runs her fingers playfully through his mane. Issac puts his hands around her waist and the two begin to kiss.

Olivia thought to turn around. To run back to Liam. She also thought to run to the bar to  drag Issac out of the bar by his hair. But she chose to do neither. She left the club for a second time, alone. Once inside her limo she could still smell Issac’s cologne in the seats she can also feel Liam’s hands on her body.

"Fuck Cherry I'm going to...oh fuck me." Issac groans his lover's name as she rolls her hips on his cock. His head falls back to the headboard allowing her to have full control of their rhythm.

Olivia was finally getting the knack of riding him. Last week, the sight of his fully erect penis intimidated her. But now she wanted to be stretched and filled. Wanted him to hit that spot that makes her whole body shake. 

She continues her menstruation, loving the beat the headboard made as it hit the wall. Issac was right. She would love sex, and she did. She loved everything about sex. The way he would look at her. The way they would rip each others clothes to shreds in heated passion. The way he teased her body with kisses and touches and that look of pride on his face when he feels how wet she is for him. But the best part was...the climax. When all her thoughts fade away. Her orgasm (and his for that matter) gave her confirmation she was succeeding It was her payoff, her reward for a fuck well done.

They lay in the bed together, only thing on their young bodies is sweat.

"Do you think we could be doing this too much?" Olivia says as she looks to the ceiling. "I mean too much of a good thing has to be bad right?"

"Your pleasure is never a bad thing." Issac ghost his fingertips down her petite frame. "If you ask me we aren't doing this enough." He pulls her in for a kiss and she playfully pulls away.

"If you keep this up we are going to end up married with 3 kids before we graduate." She laughs at her comment but her doesn't.

"I'm never getting married. Monogamy isn't my thing you know that."

"Yeah...yeah I know..." He doesn't notice the pain in her smile as his mouth dips down to kiss her neck. There was one thing she didn't like about sex: How alone she always felt after it was over. His hands creep lower, and she decides to close her eyes hoping that soon her thoughts would disappear, if only for a short while.

Tag List: Ok so I do not want to upset anyone so I’m going to put this with the tags every time. If you want to be on the tag list permanently (this one is randomly selected with some permanent in as well)  let me know. If you DO NOT want to be tagged ever just send me a message I will not be upset.

@walkerismychoice @darley1101@speedyoperarascalparty@mfackenthal  @jadedpixiescribbles@boneandfur @andy-loves-corgis   @blackcatkita @missevabean@snyggflicka@stopforamoment  @agent-zephyrkah @endlessly-searching-for-you  @indiacater  @choiceswreckedme @tmarie82@liam-rhys @viktoriapetit @alicars @jlouise88 @mrsdrakewalkerblog@walkerisbae @butindeed @greyeyedsmile14 

[bluboothalassophile]

The Devil’s Granddaughter

Just an idea that’s been nagging me, I don’t think anything more will come of it.

~~~*~*~*~~~

Lucifer sat there staring balefully at two moms, a magician, a demigod, the cyborg, the exorcist, the cabbie, the witch, the Winchester boys, Jack, the Angels, and Michael. Rachel was being treated by Maze and the doctor and he was refraining from roaring at the children he was sitting around with.

This entire catastrophe had actually forced him to reconcile with Gabriel, Azrael, Amenadiel, Raphael, Jack, and Cas; not something Lucifer wanted in the long run. But his wants were overrun by the importance of the real problem they faced. Michael sat there with his arm in a sling, but Raven had suffered a brunt of the attack.

“A human Luce, really?” Gabriel sneered a bit as he sipped his whiskey.

“It’s the human or the witch and the demon is a human right now,” Lucifer defended as he stared down at the mob before him.

“And I thought you were locked in the Cage again!”  Gabriel surged to his feet.

“Really, little brother?” Lucifer growled.

“How did you get out, again?” Sam sighed.

“The Cage is this body!” Rowena snapped as if it was obvious, and Lucifer tipped his glass to the witch because the obvious was stated now. His Grace, his abilities, his years of rest since escaping the hold of Crowley with the aid of Maze, his ever loyal Mazikeen had come to his rescue from the Princes of Hell, the Angels, the Winchesters, and the Endless.

“That is not important, what is important is the problem.”

“Yeah, she’s dead, I saw her die with my own eyes!” Constantine snapped.

“The whole world watched that girl die!” Dean snapped. “Now I’m used to freaky, but what’s dead usually stays dead.”

“Don’t be so quick to say that, I recall two humans who have died hundreds of times sitting before me right now, and on the matter, there’s a particular mortal that this demon is attached to that has returned from the grave, things come back, it just isn’t common,” Lucifer snapped icily. The girl’s return though, that signified powerful magic; Endless Magic, no mortal could have brought her back unless an Endless was playing in the game. Only problem, the power had obviously been harnessed through a human who didn’t know how to use it, or hadn’t been properly taught, or intentionally botched.

“I’m just glad my baby is back, but why is she back?” the blonde said.

“Harley!?” the redheaded green woman grabbed the blonde.

“No, I missed Rae, God knows I did, she’s my baby sis, but why is she back!?” the cyborg snapped.

“This is powerful magic, obviously, but what’s wrong with her?” The foxy magician asked flatly.

“What is supposed to be wrong with her?” his son finally asked.

“She’s the daughter of a powerful demon, named Trigon, she’s one of the most powerful magic beings other than a god or an angel,” the demigod murmured.

“Oh, that’s an understatement,” the Englishman laughed. “That’s the Gem of Scath, the ONLY daughter of Trigon, the only demon that’s stronger than any Prince of Hell, more dangerous than Lilith, and more lethal than the Brujería. Trigon is the only thing older than any monster on this plane of existence, he was sired near the start of creation. And She is his only daughter. She is a cultivation of ALL his power, the Heir to his Power, the only being known to have bested him, even kill him.”

“And that’s important why? I saw this chick die,” Dean snapped.

“There must be a reason she’s back then,” Sam muttered.

“Aye, and it’s probably not a good reason,” Rowena’s brogue was thick as she stared at them.

“Why couldn’t se remember us!?” Harley whispered.

“That’s what I’m trying to tell you!” Lucifer roared as he threw the glass in frustration. “That girl came running into my club, bloody, torn up, and not all here, she believes her name is Rachel Roth, I took the liberty of going through her mind and she has NO recollection of being Raven, or the Gem, I cannot sense Trigon’s power in her mind, or his soul in her heart, he isn’t there? Whatever brought her back didn’t do it right!”

“And you know this how?”

“Only one thing has more power than Daddy Dearest to bring a creature like the Gem to life,” Lucifer stated.

“You don’t honestly…” Cas started.

“They’re dead, Luci,” Raphael grimaced.

“That’s not…” Azrael started.

“They were sent into the Nothing, by Father,” Amenadiel stated.

“’Scuse me, but what the hell are we talking about?” Dean sighed.

“I’d like to know as well,” Constantine decided.

“The Endless,” Michael sighed. “Particularly, Death.”

“Destiny would also have the power,” Lucifer reminded his brother.

“I thought they were myths,” Zatanna said.

“And what’s an Endless?” Jack asked.

“Endless were before Light and Darkness took form and created the Universe, Endless were here before anything, before time, before existence. They are the Nothing, they are the beginning, the end, the infinity, to have thought them gone is foolish, they cannot ever be gone because they aren’t even really here nor ae they really there,” Constantine said.

“You have encountered an Endless?” Lucifer deduced.

“Yes, difficult creatures, but what would this have to do with the Gem and her resurrection?”

“And why is she back Luci?” Michael snarled.

“In the beginning before there were four of us, and we were at War, Father asked me to bear something of his, a curse, it was not particularly pleasant. You’d be familiar with it, the Mark of Cain,” Lucifer stated. He watched Gabe’s eyes widen a bit, Michael grimaced, Amendadial looked mortified, Azrael looked away and Raphael just stared dumbly at him. Dean downed his drink though, and Lucifer smiled.

“It was the ‘Gift’ Father bestowed on me. Of course he would not grant me a true gift, a gift was reserved for the favored son, the good son. But before I fell I held the Mark of Cain. The War ended, we were victorious, our dear Auntie was driven back, and the Brujería were defeated, locked in the Nothing, with the Endless’ help.

“This of course is when Daddy Dearest started his love affair with creation, which was find, it was acceptable. Until he got to Earth and discarded us in favor of his perfection,” Lucifer sneered.

“Luce, that isn’t,” Amenadiel started, but he glowered at his younger brother.

“It is, you foolish child, nothing but a child at the time, none of you saw what this love affair was doing to our mother. Of course Micheal’s solution was to be a drone for Father, Gabriel and Raphael were ordered to watch the brood, and I was to fall in line, raise you lot, to be a good second son and forgotten, but the Mark of Cain, it brings out the worse. It was after our dear Mother’s extinguishment, that I turned to the Nothing for answers, only to encounter an Endless.

“Dear Ol’ Chuck was more focused on turning you into super slaves, and having his utopia. We were never his children, not in ways that would matter to him if he was a Father, a Real Father. I rebelled, and fell, he took his curse from me, but I guess he soon learnt it was more than he could ever control.

“In my banishment I sought out the Endless, particularly, I sought out Death. I encountered her, she was furious with Father too. Apparently, Daddy Dearest forgot who was before him, who had granted his power, and the promises and deals he had made with them to win the War. Angered I offered Death the full power of an Archangel to make a weapon to destroy all that Father had created a Monster unlike any other.”

“Trigon.” Cas supplied.

“Yes. Did you ever wonder why it was that we could not defeat him, brother?”

“The spawn of an Archangel and Endless…” Jack’s eyes widened.

“You thought you were powerful, you’ve never seen what true power was. Trigon’s raw power destroyed worlds, I locked him in Hell when he was unable to be reasoned with or controlled, or harnessed, and even then, I only had enough to seal him a fraction of the way, before Michael locked me in that damn Cage!”

“You created Trigon!” Rowena squeaked.

“Yes, you could say he’s my first born, and the most dangerous of my creations. An Endless intervened though, and it is why we have had the Gem of Scath. Raphael should know, it was his Nephilim created her home, and negotiated with the Endless to create the Gem.”

“What?” his younger brother looked shocked.

“You didn’t honestly think the Queen of Sheba just perished weakly at the hands of humans. The daughter of the third Archangel, the strongest Nephilim before Jack? She creature Azarath!” Lucifer snapped. “She birthed the most powerful sorcery known to anyone, she created a universe between the multiverse, she taught the Sorceress Supreme, she fought Father in Single Combat to defend Michael! You dare to think so little of a Nephilim,” he chuckled icily.

“Azar bartered with an Endless, Destiny, to bring down Trigon because she saw him consuming the Nothing, until only he remained. Ending all cycles, she fought Trigon’s Sons, she battled them all, and she was more powerful than anyone foresaw, even Father respected Azar. But Azar knew her end.

“From my understanding Destiny and Azar’s deal was the key to Trigon’s destruction, and began cultivating the Gem of Scath’s magic line through the powers of natural Homo Magi. Morgana le Fay, the Raven, the magic lines of some of the most lethal magicians known, they cultivated to Alan Roth and Oolijee’s lines, two raw magic types, unharnessed. They sired Arella, all that magic powered into one weak human, who repressed her powers, only to summon Trigon and sire the Gem of Scath.”

“And she died in battle, the who fucking world saw it!” Harley screeched.

“And now she’s back,” Lucifer said.

“Why is she back?” Ivy asked him icily.

“That is the million dollar question I want an answer to,” Dean decided.

Lucifer however looked to the magician and the witch. The dawning lit on their faces.

“None of us are strong enough to face the other Michael, he will annihilate us all.”

“You think she was brought back to fight him?” Michael sneered.

“She’s the Gem of Scath, why else would she be here?” Gabriel whispered.

“She’s evil.” Zatanna started.

“No necessarily, The world is not black and white, good and evil, we are all comprised of both, the Gem would be no exception. Clearly this is important to her as she has rejected her Gem heritage and only accepted the identity of being a wee human, the weak Rachel Roth, who has two mother, a brother,” Rowena observed.

“And why have all of us here then?” Constantine asked.

“Because he is here for her, even if she doesn’t remember herself,” Lucifer said softly.

“Who?” Raphael asked.

“Micheal,” Jack answered.

“I am not!”

“The other Michael,” Jack deduced.

“Ding-ding-ding, we have a winner, we need to get the Gem to Gotham,” Lucifer chuckled humorlessly.

“Why, we could just call the JL or Fate, even the Order of Magic,” Zatanna said.

“Because, magician, this is not hat trick, there is an Archangel, bred for nothing but war, who has been fighting endlessly in another parallel universe against beings who make Superman and the JL look like gnats. This is my granddaughter, not a normal demon you’re trying to move and Michael is hunting her and she can’t even remember who she is.”

“She’s a lot more than a demon though,” the demigod whispered.

“What!?” Most of the Angels roared.

“That’s right, she’s part demon, part Archangel, part Endless, part human and all magic, what the hell were you thinking Luci!?” Amenadial demanded, drawing himself up to his full height.

“I was thinking about destroying Father,” Lucifer snapped.

“Enough, fighting won’t solve what we need to do,” Sam shouted.

“And what are we going to do?” Rowena demanded.

“I don’t know,” Sam admitted. “Yet.”

“And why Gotham?” Harley asked.

“It might jog her memories into her other life, if her family couldn’t ignite that information in her soul then perhaps this Jason fellow can,” Lucifer stated.