#I was on chapter 13 and I made it to the moment with Prowl smiling

[keferon]

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAH

[minniethemoocherda]

Iridescent: Chapter 13

Summary: When Jazz is promoted to Head of Special Operations, the last thing he expected was to have to work with a face from his past.

A/N: Fair warning that the violence is going to be a bit more graphic from this point onwards sorry! Xxxxxxx

Ao3

Jazz opened up the spec op private comms

"Hound after you've dropped off Mirage, I need you to track Skywarp!" Jazz ordered, having to shout over the sound of Prowl chewing out the twins nearby.

After receiving an affirmative, Jazz marched back over the two remaining commanders, passing by the twins who looks appropriately guilty for once.

"We should retreat! Before more of our people are injured." Optimus suggested, firing out from behind where they had managed to build a makeshift barrier out of the rusted remains of whatever structure had once been built here.

"Why?" Jazz asked, casually throwing a shuriken over the barrier, that judging by the following scream, confirmed that it had found its target, as he ducked down besides his friend. "So that they can eventually break the doors down or simply drop a big ass bomb and kill us all inside instead of out here?"

"I agree with Jazz." Prowl declared.

Even after everything that had happened today, Prowl openly agreeing with him, still managed to surprise Jazz.

"We have to hold them out here. If the other seekers invade the Ark then we will loose the Autobot headquarters and most likely the war." Prowl finished. 

Optimus paused, probably consulting with the Matrix, however that worked, as he considered their plan. After a moment he nodded.

"Very well, here is where we shall stand our ground." Optimus said, his voice that of a Prime instead of the awkward data clerk Jazz used to know.

Of course as soon as that plan was decided, Blaster chose that moment to interrupt the three of them with an incoming comm. Except it wasn't the communication expect on the other end of the line.

"This is MacCadam's base calling the Ark, can you hear me?" Elita-One's voice echoed in their ears.

"Ariel." Optimus breathed. Jazz hadn't heard their leader sound so relieved since becoming a Prime. It was shortlived however as worry quickly returned. "Has Bumblebee-"

"Yes he reached us safe and well." Elita was quick to reassure them and despite the distance, Jazz could hear the smile in her voice. "I sent him back with the information I am about to tell you. Our communications had been sabotaged. We are able to contact Teletran-1 but within the last hour we've found our Head of Communications grey in her room with a blaster wound through her mouth."

"Do you think the guilt got to her?" Jazz wondered aloud. It would certainly explain things. Perhaps too cleanly.

"It would appear so. When we lost communication Chromia became adamant that you're base must also have been sabotaged so she straight left for the Ark. I sent Silverstreak to keep an eye on her. Not long after they left, we were attacked by Soundwave."

"If Soundwave's there and Starscream's here then where is Megatron?" Optimus asked. 

Jazz caught Prowl's optics. By the way they flashed, he knew that they bad both come to the same conclusion.

"He is planning an attack on our two weapons specialists who are currently out of range, outnumbered and unaware that they're headed straight for a trap." Prowl stated.

Shit

"Our long range individual comms are still dismantled." Elita-One reminded them. "We can only contact Teletra-"

"AHHHHHHH!"

She was interrupted by Blaster's screams before the call cut off entirely. Which could only mean one thing. That Skywarp had infiltrated their communication room.

Jazz didn't need to say out loud what they all already knew. That Ironhide, Chromia and the rest of their team's lives now relied on them kicking Skywarp's ass and fixing whatever mess she had made to their long range comms.

Which was going to be a problem considering the fact that the communications room had access to the camera outside the hanger doors so that they could see anyone heading inside.

Thankfully, Jazz was a spy for a reason.

"I know a secret way inside." Jazz told them. "But as amazing as I am, it would be a lot easier to take her down if I had some help."

"Prowl, accompany Jazz." Optimus ordered. "I will ensure that we hold the Seekers back."

Prowl didn't look particularly pleased at the idea of teaming up. Prowl wouldn't have been Jazz first choice either but with his best agent injured and the other occupied, he didn't have much of a choice left. Regardless Prowl wasn't going to argue with their Prime, so after a few pointed words to the twins reminding them to actually follow orders, he turned to Jazz.

"Lead the way."

Prowl kept his blaster poised as he reluctantly followed Jazz around the outwards of the Ark, keeping watch for any Seekers who might have noticed them under Optimus cover fire.

Prowl was reluctant to leave the front where he believed that his tactical skills would be most valuable. He could have said these concerns aloud. Optimus had always welcomed his troupes to voice their objections which was something that Prowl's previous authority figures during his time as an enforcer had never approved of. But ultimately, Optimus was their Prime who's decision had failed to steer them wrong yet, so Prowl trusted his judgement.

He soon realised that Jazz was leading them towards the end of the Ark's old thrusters. The ship was once capable of interstellar flight but had not been used for such purposes since the golden age of Nova Prime. Now the thrusters were rusted and sealed up due to their misuse.

At least that was what Prowl had been told. However Jazz was currently entering through the centre of the left thrusters' exit port where he was able to unscrew a loose panel, that lead into a gap between the main energon line and the wall.

"This is where Hound secretly feeds his rations to the local turbo-foxes and where I'm pretty sure Bumblebee has been sneaking out at night." Jazz explained before he crawled inside. Prowl made a mental note to inform Red Alert of the security breach when this whole ordeal was over, before following him inside.

It was a tight fit for Jazz and an even tighter one for Prowl. Even with his doorwings pressed flat against his back, it still hurt to drag their edges against the steal walls and without even enough room to turn his head, Prowl was left with no choice but to stare directly at the curves of Jazz's ass as they scraped along the gap. Thankfully, it wasn't long before Jazz shoved open a grate opened into a storage closet.

Although, Prowl almost immediately missed the gap, as here he was pressed chassis to chassis, with his only option to look directly into Jazz's face.

Thankfully the spy, made no comment on their positions when he spoke.

"I ain't getting a response from Hound but Bluestreak said that the last thing he told her was that he heading towards Communications."

Prowl let out a vent that he hadn't realised he'd been holding when he learnt that Bluestreak was alright. He knew that the young sniper was more than capable of protecting herself but as the older sibling he couldn't help worrying whenever she was out of the realm of his protection.

Prowl watched as Jazz slowly opened the storage door to the corridor, sliding his blade between the small slit as he glanced around.

After a moment he gave a thumbs up of an all clear and strolled out of the cupboard. Prowl wasted no time in doing the same. Once outside, they took up the same unspoken positions that they head before, with Jazz leading the way, blade in hand, whilst Prowl protected the rear, blaster ready. Although now that he knew what Jazz's rear looked like, he found it hard to concentrate on protecting it.

Fortunately, they didn't encounter any resistance along the corridors since most able bodied mechs were outside battling against the seekers.

Unfortunately they couldn't hear any signs of a scuffle or regain access to their long range comms which was not a good sign.

Once they made it to Communications, cautiously, Prowl poked his head around the door.

Skywarp was wrecking havoc on Teletran-1, ripping out wires and smashing screens like a rabid animal. At the very least it didn't appear like she knew exactly what damage she was doing but that didn't necessarily mean that it would be any easier to fix.

At her feet lay Hound, Blaster and Red Alert. A short range blaster shot had taken out half of Hound's torso. Miraculously, it hadn't appeared to have hit any vital organs, but by Prowl's calculations, that would matter little as he would soon to bleed out his remaining reserves of energon. Blaster had a large dent on the side of his helm but otherwise appeared unharmed. Red Alert was the only one conscious, however they were powerless to help as Skywarp had hogtied them up in a tangle of cords. Prowl knew that the stress of witnessing Skywarp wreck all of their carefully crafted systems was causing more pain than any injury could have ever done.

"You gotta plan commander?" Jazz whispered.

Before Prowl's battle computer had any time to respond, he heard the sound of footsteps behind them.

Out of the corner of his optic, Prowl caught Jazz wield his knife in the same moment that he raised his blaster.

Thankfully, it wasn't sneak a Deception attack. Instead it was Mirage, leaning heavily against the wall, as he dragged himself long the corridor.

"I... I am unable to reach Hound on internal comms. His... his last message was that he was head to-towards Communications." Mirage stammered, trying to be quiet but Prowl winced as their gasping breathes echoed across the silent corridor. Miraculously, Skywarp must not have heard it over the sound of her own destruction.

"Do not engage except for long range weapons." Prowl ordered, calculating that their chances of success would drastically decrease if Mirage were to witness Hound in his current state. And he hadn't even taken into account yet that whilst the cut across the spy's chest plate had been welded shut, Prowl knew that anything even remotely strenuous easily rip it open again.

Before Mirage could protest Jazz interrupted.

"Your invisibility ain't going to do shit if you start leaking very visible energon everywhere so do as he says." Jazz told him.

Prowl was unbothered as Mirage glared in his direction before biting his tongue and remaining at the end of the corridor. It made sense that the spy would be more likely to listen to a friend then a commander and Prowl did not care who the orders came from as long as Mirage followed them.

"Hey," Jazz hissed to get his attention. "If that big brain if yours hadn't come up with a plan yet, then I've got one." Prowl was not put at ease by the edge of Jazz's grin. "Knight."

It took a moment for Prowl to comprehend what it even was that Jazz was suggesting. It took a further moment for him to run it through his battle computer. After another he nodded.

Prowl lay flat against the corridor floor as Jazz peaked around the edge of the doorway, the side of his visor titled just so that it reflected the light off one of the remaining monitors, catching Skywarp's eye.

In an instant she had materialised in front of their Head of Special Operations. Jazz feigned surprise as Prowl crawled past the now tussling pair into the communications room.

Prowl ignored the flash of guilt as he climbed over Hound's body even though logically he knew that only Ratchet had the power to help him now. Besides, the needs of the many outweighed the needs of the few. And Prowl's current goal was saving two of their commanders plus their squads.

Prowl crouched down besides Red Alert, removing the plug gagged into their mouth and untying them as quickly as he could. This close, he could feel the heat radiating from their sensory horns that threatened an impending systems crash.

"Focus on what you can control." Prowl ordered once he had freed them of their restraints. "Can you recommend the wire to establish long range comms?"

Red Alert's eyes were wide and Prowl wasn't entirely convinced that they weren't going to crash. But if anyone was used to handling stress under pressure it was the Ark's security director.

With a jerked nod, Red Alert forced themselves towards Teletran-1.

With the first step of their plan in action, Prowl turned his focus back onto the fight behind him, to find that Skywarp had a writhing Jazz pinned under her armour. Wrestled that closely intertwined, Mirage would be unable to take a clear shot even if his condition hadn't drastically hampered his ability to aim. 

Getting to his feet, Prowl grabbed Skywarp from behind, the teleporter too startled to make a jump to avoid being thrown from her victim. She produced a blaster, from where, Prowl did not have the time to figure out. But before she could fire it, he caught her wrist, yanking it upwards so the shot fired into the ceiling instead of his helm. He then turned so his back faced her front, snapping her wrist in the process and shot her with his own blaster. She dodged at the last second so he missed her spark but it still managed to blast a hole in her shoulder. Skywarp keeled over, using the remains of her hand to plug the gaping wound in her shoulder.

Whilst she was down, Prowl turned his attention to Jazz who was staring up at him, that infuriating smile for once wiped clean from his face.

Prowl allowed himself a small sense of satisfaction. He spent so much time behind the scenes of battles that their troupes had forgotten the fighting skills that had earned him the position in the first place.

As he helped Jazz to his feet, Prowl caught a glimpse of Mirage where he was hidden behind the corner of the corridor. Prowl would have to see Ratchet to get his optics checked as he thought that he saw a flash of respect in the spy’s eyes.

"You know I was just pretending to be loosing as a distraction right?" Jazz said as he fought to catch his breath, a cheeky smile now back on his face.

Prowl did have time to dignify that with a response as in an instant Prowl found himself upside down, pedes brushing the Ark ceiling. Skywarp cackled, spitting energon at his face, then disappeared. He did not have time to calculate a plan before the floor suddenly came crashing towards him. A fall from this height might not kill him but it would certainly do processor damage that would negatively impact the outcome of the war.

Suddenly, someone crashed into him, rolling them both in mid-air. The next thing Prowl registered, he was looking up at Jazz, illuminated by the ceiling lights and cradling his helm from where it was currently lying in the spy's lap.

"Smooth moves Commander." Jazz said, his smile saying that words could not. That now they were even.

The moment when ruined when Skywarp, screeching like a rabbit cyberwolf tried to pounce on them.

Thankfully, Mirage was able to shoot her in her already injured shoulder, blasting her arm off in a mess of tangled wires.

"Sorry." Jazz grinned.

Before Prowl could ask about what, Jazz dropped him, leaving Prowl sprawled on the floor.

Prowl pushed himself back to his feet so that he could properly yell at him. He cut himself off at the sight of Jazz biting down on Skywarp's uninjured shoulder. Prowl could only watch in disbelief as Skywarp teleported randomly along the length of the corridor, thrashing around and crashing into walls. But Jazz must have a vampiric set of denta as nothing she did could shake him off.

From this angle, Jazz couldn't reach her spark, so Prowl watched as he stabbed his blade into Skywarp's waist instead.

She reappeared, screaming on the Communications floor.

Prowl wasted no time, grabbing a broken metal pole. Again, unable to reach her spark with Jazz still sprawled on her back, he instead skewered it through her leg. Then stamping on the end, he bent the mental until he had hooked Skywarp's leg into the floor.

Prowl kept his blaster trained on her helm as Jazz finally clambered off her.

"Girl, when was the last time you had a shower?" Jazz asked, wiping his mouth with a grimace.

Prowl knew that Skywarp's injuries would not trap her forever. He had yet to find a prison that could. But for now, her teleportation abilities weren't going to be an advantage in battle when she was in too much pain to fight.

Prowl kept guard over Skywarp as Red Alert, who was muttering expletives under their breathe, re-connected the mess of shredded wires. Mirage had managed to hobble to the room by this point. He dropped to Hound's side, grabbing at the debris surrounding them to try to fill in the injury whilst Jazz hailed Ratchet.

On the one working monitor, Prowl watched as on the screen a single shot severed through both of Starscream's thrusters. He couldn't stop the swell of pride at the knowledge that Bluestreak was the only one talented enough to make that shot.

However, Prowl was going to have to update his folder on Skywarp's abilities to teleport within her line of sight as in the next second, she appeared on the monitor screen, a chunk of her leg missing from where it was still nailed into the communications floor. Prowl watched as outside the Ark, she helping her Trine commander to escape as the seekers called for a retreat.

"I've fixed Teletran-1!" Red Alert cried.

It was unfortunate that the Skywarp had escaped. But their primary goal had been to contact Ironhide by re-establishing long range comms so overall Prowl considered the mission a success.

Prowl marched over to the console, wasting no time in connecting the long range call.

"Ironhide, this is Teletran-1. Do you copy?"

"Huh what?" Ironhide answered, sounding startled by the long range comm. Prowl ignored the incorrectly worded response and continued.

"We believe that you are heading into a trap. Megatron is-"

"Yeah yeah we know." Ironhide interrupted, the usually gruff soldier still sounding frazzled. "Bumblebee must've figured out what he was planning because he found where Megatron was waiting and provoked him into revealing his location and... oh Primus. We... when we saw what was happening we tried to stop him. We tried to fight back but.. but..."

"What happened?" Prowl demanded.

Ironhide took a shuddering breath.

"It's Megatron. He kidnapped Bumblebee."

[biffhofosho]

Succumbing to Sybaris | Chapter Twenty-Five

Word Count: 12.3k

A/N: This took a bit longer than I’d planned to edit, but maybe that’s in part because I don’t want to let go. Final chapter, everyone, with only an epilogue to follow. Proceed with caution. This one’s long and very heavy.

Cvr | Tr | Pr | 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16| 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | Ep

“Let her go.”

Amber would know that curt, gruff voice anywhere.

Shownu.

Hope blossomed in her heart as she whirled around and looked up to the cliff ledge behind the building to find a strand of the most beautiful faces she’d ever seen. All seven brothers flanked the stone courtyard from above, Shownu and Wonho anchoring the ends with their massive size while the rest of the brothers watched Kai’s lackeys prowl the perimeter of the building—except Hyungwon, who kept his eyes solely on Amber.

Hyungwon took a step toward the ledge, and she charged toward him, but a taloned hand closed around her wrist and yanked her back so hard, she clattered on her knees against the stone.

“If it isn’t the self-proclaimed Lords of Portland. Choi’s illustrious sons show their faces after all,” declared Kai with a quiver at the edge of his mouth. “And, here, I’d wasted my last sliver of respect for you on the thought that you’d conceded your role in all this, but I shouldn’t be surprised at this point. All the same, you miscreants have some nerve showing up here after your repeated failures and blatant disobedience. If I didn’t hate you so much, I’d almost be impressed.”

“We just want the detective back,” Hyungwon continued. “Let her go, and you’ll never have to see us again.”

Kai laughed bitterly. “Now, I am impressed. After feeding me lies for a decade and then outright opposing me, you dictate terms? Let me propose a counter-offer: get out of my sight this second or face the end of your bloodline.”

Kai’s minions closed in on the terrace and hillside, baring their teeth like dogs, but the brothers paid them no attention. They were focused on the woman in the gold dress who was now tucked against Kai’s side.

Hyungwon took another step forward and plummeted from the cliff, landing in the cramped stone building with the softness of a cat. His brothers followed next, each one landing with the same grace and only the crunch of glass underfoot to herald their arrival.

All but Hyungwon sported their vampire masks, but instead of conjuring terror in Amber’s heart, they conjured joy. She thrashed in Kai’s grip as shock echoed in her voice. “You’re here!”

“Of course,” Wonho said with a slick smile.

“We’ll always come for you,” assured Shownu.

“You shouldn’t have,” Kai laughed. “It’s the last thing you’ll ever do.”

If the brothers were nervous, they didn’t show it. They stood tall, shoulders broad and fists clenched, with nothing to betray their cold determination. When they stepped forward, it was in perfect unison, and the moment they did, Kai dragged Amber back with him.

“That’s far enough,” he warned. “I just promised my sweet Ambrosia I would let her little lost lambs go home. Don’t force my hand and make me break my word. You know she’d never forgive you.”

Minhyuk hissed, and Amber’s eyes darted toward him. She barely recognized him. Gone was the friendly puppy with the bright gaze and open smile. Instead, a stranger with serpent eyes and fangs to match rubbed his hands together greedily as he sized up his enemies. There was a meanness to his movements, more beast than man, and it made her tremble. Jooheon laid a hand on his friend’s shoulder, but whatever battle lust had overtaken the charming photographer had turned him into a barely-contained weapon.

Kai, too, sized up his opponents. His grip on her arm bruised as every last muscle tensed along his frame. He coiled like a caged snake, and she knew his strike would be even more devastating. The vampire raised his hand, fingers ready to snap.

At the last second, Amber grabbed Kai’s wrist and squeezed. He froze, his eyes lingering on hers before sliding down to her fingers curled around him.

“Please don’t,” she begged.

“Shouldn’t you be saying that to them?” he growled.

“But you’re the one with the power here, so I’m asking you. Please don’t do this.”

Kai glanced from her hand, still clutching his wrist, to the seven interlopers storming his crumbling castle, and he sighed. “My love has begged me for mercy for you, and she shall have it for as long as I can contain my composure. That means you have five minutes to say your piece before I unleash hell.”

Hyungwon stalled his brothers as he took a step forward alone. Kai’s arm tightened around Amber’s waist while her hand tightened around his wrist. Everyone was holding back what tension they could before the powder keg blew and leveled them all.

“Your Grace,” Hyungwon began without so much as a hint of irony, but Kai cut him off with a snarl.

“We’re well past formalities, aren’t we, Hyungwon? Don’t patronize me one second longer.”

“You’re right. It’s simple: we’re here to take Amber home.”

The detective expected Kai to blow up or lunge forward, but he didn’t move a muscle, not in his arms, not in his jaw.

Hyungwon obviously expected the same, but after a moment, he realized he was expected to continue, so he added, “We love her. We only want to protect her.”

“Hm.”

Kai’s delicate hum startled everyone more than if he’d exploded. His hand moved from Amber’s hourglass to her neck as he turned her attention fully to him. The vampire smiled down at her, his thumb stroking her cheek.

“And you don’t think I want the same?” he said with his gaze bound firmly to his gilded vessel.

Hyungwon took another step forward, and if Amber believed for a second that she had Kai distracted, that belief was dashed instantly. The vampire swiveled, eyes narrow and glinting furiously, and talons long and pointed at his challenger. But Hyungwon didn’t even blink as he answered, “I think you want to protect her the way a child protects his toy from other kids on the playground.”

Kai sneered. “You and your ham-handed brothers have always been far too narrow-minded to see anything beyond your little kingdom on the hill. The world is our kingdom now, Ambrosia’s and mine, and together, we will rule over everything in it. She’s not a toy. She’s my wife.”

“She isn’t, and she never will be,” spat Jooheon, and this time it was Kihyun holding the young punk back.

“That’s neither your choice nor is it mine. It’s already written, you little whelp, here in a riddle older than you are. Ambrosia was always destined for me, and you were always destined to fail—the only difference is, you kept failing. Over and over again. You failed me. Even now, you fail to understand the simplest things.”

“Like you’re mad with revenge against our family?” said Changkyun.

“You don’t get it. I gave you every opportunity to make amends!” Kai boomed. “I put Ambrosia in your path so when you met her, you could tell me at last that you’d found the One. But what did you do? You touched her. You kissed her. You turned her heart against me. Things could have been so different—they could have gone back to the good old days instead of all this foolishness. We could have been allies again! That’s what I wanted. Every choice you made against me changed the course of our destinies. You’ve disappointed me yet again… for the last time. I have been merciful far longer than anyone has a right to be, but it’s clear there’s no redeeming you just like there was no redeeming that duplicitous sire of yours.”

“Where is Seunghyun?” demanded Kihyun.

“Where he should be: at the bottom of a crevasse with a silver stake in his chest.”

“You’re lying!” screamed Jooheon. “He was your only friend. You wouldn’t.”

“He was, and you’re right, I didn’t. Why would I dirty these hands when I knew my Ambrosia would soon have to feel them?” Kai jerked Amber in front of him like a shield, and she lost her grip on his wrist. She knew then, without a hold on him, she’d lost the battle. Now, all-out war was the only outcome. Kai’s arms wound around her, one at her neck and the other sheltering her belly. In a voice cold as steel, he added, “That’s what my subjects are for.”

Even without Kai’s usual beckoning snap, out of the shadows oozed a creature so revolting, Amber winced. His face was pocked and bubbled like the surface of a volcanic moon, cysts weeping dark rivers across clay-like pits and fissures, with only one human eye to look remorsefully through the nightmare. The rest of his skin was mottled like rain-stained leather all the way down to his hooked claws, more dinosaur than human.

“What the fuck…” whispered Changkyun.

Minhyuk slipped into a runner’s stance, those keen, bloodthirsty eyes trained on the monster before them. Still, Jooheon held him back, but even across the terrace, Amber could see how he strained against his brother’s grip.

“This is what a loyal subject looks like,” proclaimed Kai. “Isn’t he beautiful? My avenging angel. My harbinger. Junmyeon understands what must be done to protect Destiny in ways you greedy bastards never could.”

The reality of the horror show before the brothers seemed to sink in all at once. Their gazes shifted as much as their feet, and for a second, Amber thought they would retreat, but Hyungwon caught her gaze, and there was no surrender in his eyes this time. She wasn’t sure which she was more scared of.

“That’s enough,” she said, and all eyes shot to her. She wrestled out of Kai’s hold and glared at him with every ounce of resentment she could muster. “If you cared about me at all like you pretend to, you would let me go back to them. It’s where I want to be. It’s where I belong.”

If she thought she could reach the man inside the devil, she was sorely mistaken. Kai humored her with a crooked grin and shook his head.

“My little Chalice thinks just because she can’t be hypnotized that she can’t be brainwashed either, but I’ve watched first-hand as you groomed her. She’s so naïve, isn’t she?” He hummed as his hand glossed over her shoulders. “She hasn’t even lived three decades. She doesn’t know. She hasn’t seen. A little behavior modification, and you’ve got her salivating like a dog for you. Now, she thinks that is what real love is. It’s unacceptable. It’s unforgivable.”

“Listen to her, Kai,” Hyungwon stressed. “You can’t make her happy.”

“And you can’t fucking tell me what I have to give!” he boomed. “Ambrosia will have the world. She will have everything she could ever want. She will have a family of her own again, and she will have me. Time will help her see how you’ve twisted her against me.

“Speaking of time, Chae Hyungwon, yours is well since passed up, which is interesting because so has my patience. If you have something worthwhile to say, I suggest you say it now because this is your last chance.”

“We’re not leaving without Amber,” was all he replied.

This time Kai laughed, full and satisfied, as though it was the best joke he’d ever heard. “Wonderful, since I never planned on letting you leave at all.”

The vampire cinched his arm around Amber’s waist and tugged her with him as he eased out of the central room to the terrace space. This time, Kai did snap his fingers, and it wasn’t just the patchwork monster inching deeper into the building but a whole army of vampires, some beautiful, some twisted with various marks of devilry. Even the waiters and violinist were there now, this time without their professional indifference.

“Don’t do this,” she begged, but Kai just offered her a compassionate glance.

“Their spell will be broken soon enough, my sweet.”

“Stop this. Stop it now. This is fucking insane, and I will never forgive you. Never. I will never, ever give you what you want.”

“Ambrosia, try and see it from my point of view,” he said gently. “They’ve already proven they can’t walk away. Do you honestly think those fools will ever give you up? I wouldn’t. You understand that, don’t you? All those years searching for the truth of what happened to your sister. We’re so alike. We can’t let things go, even when we know it’s bad for us. They’re bad for you, my dove. They’re a cavity. We have to drill deeper, make it hurt more, before everything gets so much better.”

“You monster,” she spat.

Amber looked at her would-be saviors, braced for battle, and bitterness swelled in her heart. All this power Kai thought she had, and yet there was nothing she could do. People were going to die, and she would have to watch it all. She had to fight back—she always fought back—but everything felt so hopeless.

“Remember,” hissed Kihyun to his brothers as he raised a clawed hand, “incapacitate only. No kills.”

“They won’t spare you the same courtesy,” Kai reminded, but they ignored the bait. With a surprisingly sober face, the vampire added, “Before we cast our lots, I want you to know with all sincerity that before you broke my heart, I was very grateful for your service.”

“I think we have one more disappointment to hand you first,” Jooheon challenged.

“That’s always possible knowing your family. I'll place my bet on Hyunwoo as the last to die. Who's yours, Ambrosia?”

“You,” she said through gritted teeth.

“Good thing you didn't bet any money,” Kai teased.

The air was electric, and every hair on Amber's body stood up. Kai’s men held their line, daring the brothers to light the powder keg. Minhyuk was shifting heavily from foot to foot though Changkyun did his best to soothe his brother. Wonho and Shownu still anchored their front while Hyungwon kept center guard and stared down the unearthly horror that was the dragon man. Both were still as statues, neither betraying himself with so much as a blink.

Kai squeezed Amber playfully and whispered, “If I still had breath, I’d be holding it.”

Suddenly, the brothers charged forward with growls and snarls except for Minhyuk, who zipped into the fray with only the glint of his fangs and the ravenous whites of his eyes to signal his attack.

“Jooheon, watch your brother!” Hyunwoo shouted, and the flame-tipped punk darted after the wild man she barely recognized.

The two sides collided like wild animals, biting and snapping and slashing. Blood splattered the walls in morbid graffiti, but there was no way to tell where it came from.

Kai vibrated beside her. His eyes were wide, and his tongue roved at the corner of his mouth. His fangs dripped down like icicles between his bitter cold smile. Every ounce of his being was captivated by the clash unfolding before them.

And that was all Amber needed to spur her to action.

She hooked her hand around one of his fingers at her waist and jerked backward until she heard a sickening crack and a stunned yelp. Kai dropped his arm from her to clutch at his wrist, but she didn’t spare a look. She was already bounding down the mossy stairs onto the path and into the woods as fast as her legs could carry her.

Her window of time was tiny. Amber knew he would heal quickly the same way she also knew she would never make it out of the woods, but that wasn’t what this was about.

Shouts rang out from the building behind her, battle cries and cracks and smashes rounding out the symphony of combat with one booming tenor to overshadow it all.

“Bring her back!”

Faster and faster, Amber drove her dead legs up the hilly terrain. The path was still muddy in parts, and her sandals clotted and slid, but it didn’t matter. The more distance she covered, the better.

Somewhere behind her, she heard a mocking peal of laughter, not Kai’s but somehow familiar. It only spurred her feet faster. She couldn’t see anyone behind her, but she knew they weren't letting her go. If anything, they were amusing themselves with her head start.

Beneath her, the slope gave way, and Amber clawed onto any root or fern she could find. Her fingernails tore and splinters pierced the meat of her palms. At the top of the hill, she flopped onto the ground, but there was no time to catch her breath. She was up and racing again. Her lungs felt like fire and her throat closed like a fist, but she managed to make it all the way back to the mossy bridge before she felt the shift.

Something zipped to her left and then to her right. Bullets, she thought, but then Amber saw two shadows deeper than the night. Kai's cronies stepped forward as though they’d been waiting for her for hours. Both showcased wolfish grins and hands on hips, and she realized she recognized them from the vampire club.

“Hello again, beautiful,” simpered Taeyong, who was still sporting his leather jacket. He bowed mockingly, but it charged Amber with a sense of purpose.

“Don’t you remember the rules, boys? Out of my way,” she ordered. “By order of the Portland Police Bureau.”

Their smiles broadened.

“‘Fraid that’s out of the question, honeyblood,” said Doyoung.

Taeyong waggled a finger as he closed in, a hook in his smile. “This time we’re not allowed to let you go.”

“So unless you’re hiding a silver stake in that pussy of yours, seems you’re out of credible threats, baby.”

Amber narrowed her eyes at them, steel in her gaze instead. She turned her hand into a claw and poised it over her forearm, nails already biting into her skin. “Come any closer, and I’ll tell Kai you did it.”

The pair exchanged looks, and while they didn’t back away, they didn’t move any closer.

“Lot of hot, tasty blood under here,” she promised. “Think you’d be able to stop yourself from sucking the honey out of these veins?”

Taeyong licked his lips while Doyoung ground his thumb against his fang.

“But how do you think the boss you’ve been kissing up to will react when he finds out you marked up his woman and took from him? You’ve seen that monster he carts around with him. That thing would wear your murders like new tattoos.”

“Maybe, but if we let you leave, he’d kill us, too,” replied the cat-eyed vampire with a brow raised.

Amber nodded. “So where’s that leave us?”

Taeyong shrugged. “Right here until the boss joins us, I guess.”

“Not good enough.” Her nails dug deeper into her arm, and she winced ahead of the next round of pain.

“I know what you’re doing,” Doyoung said.

“I don’t think your feeble little minds could figure it out,” Amber retorted.

He propped himself on his elbows against the railing and sniffed a laugh. “You know you can’t escape, but that’s not what you’re worried about, is it? You think if you get far enough away and draw enough attention, it’ll lighten the load on those holier-than-thou fangfaces of yours.”

She blinked, honestly shocked. Amber hadn’t expected them to see through her diversion so quickly. She was going to argue, but there was no point when they could hear her heart stutter-step.

Doyoung smiled. “But there are two problems with your plan. Number one, His Grace hates those brothers almost as much as he cares about you, and number two? Wherever you go, those pathetic puppies will follow, and it sounds to me like they’re already on their way…”

Amber trained her ears into the tunnel of darkness, and sure enough, she heard the faint sounds of roars and crashes edging closer and closer.

“Well, girly,” Taeyong said with a matching grin, “what’s your next play?”

With eyes of ice and a heart black with fury, she answered, “I’ll see you both in hell.”

The next thing any of them knew, Amber had gouged long troughs down her skin that quickly welled with blood. Both vampires’ eyes flashed brilliant predatory golds, and she returned their smug grins with one of her own. She dragged her fingertips through the puddling blood and smeared it in a flash across their faces before she screamed at the top of her lungs.

“Jongin!”

The pair of vampires barely had enough time to widen their eyes before Kai descended seemingly from the trees beside her. Amber grabbed his side, burying her face in his shoulder as she presented her weeping forearm to him.

Kai took one look from the gashes in her soft skin to his subjects’ blood-smeared lips, and with only a snap, he brought his avenging angel to his side. While she was grateful the monster wasn’t back there squaring off with her boys anymore, she knew what his presence meant, and it gave Amber more than enough reason to keep her face buried.

Shrieks and wails pierced the night and her heart. Ripping, tearing, begging. It was all too close, almost on top of her. Cold mist sprayed her skin, and she knew without looking that it wasn’t from the little rapids under the bridge. Kai held her fast, and for once, she was grateful for it.

Something inhuman, primal, and disgusting gurgled behind her. There was a groan and a retch and a long squelch like wet taffy being pulled, and when her curiosity got the better of her, Amber peeked over Kai’s shoulder. All it took was one glance at the dragon man’s new leathery, shredded wings for it to imprint on her nightmares forever.

In a low voice, Kai said to the creature, “Get rid of their bodies, and when it’s done, there was a third who joined with them. Remove him before he becomes a problem, too.”

Revulsion washed through Amber strong enough to bring bile to her throat. What had she done? What was she becoming? A sick part of her soul purred up from the abyss inside her...

You’re becoming like him.

“Sweetheart, you’re trembling,” said Kai into her hair. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you anywhere else?”

Amber was too numb to answer. She shook her head, but he pushed her back so he could study her. His eyes shined like lamps as they roved over her, settling finally on her wound. He tore a strip from the hem of her dress and rolled it tightly over her arm before tying it closed.

“You can’t run off again,” Kai said quietly. “They’ll smell you even stronger now, and it would be a shame to lose any more soldiers.”

If he knew about her ruse, he didn’t say anything about it. Using his jacket sleeve, he wiped the blood splatter from her cheeks, and, with his lips to her forehead, he said, “I’m happy you called for me.”

Amber told herself it was a necessary means to an end, but her gut wouldn’t let her forget—it had felt right. She didn’t know what that meant, and she didn’t want to know, but it didn’t matter either way. The battle she’d been dreading had made its way to her at last.

This wasn’t like any gang shooting or a hostage situation she’d ever been a part of. This was war and it was terrifying. Screams and yowls and rage and pain echoed in the cathedral of trees. Bodies flew through the air too fast for Amber to tell who was who. She had no idea if all of her lovers had survived, and part of her was too terrified to check.

“It’ll all be over soon,” Kai said as he rubbed her back. His fingertips generated waves of foreboding and something much darker with every pass they made over her naked shoulders. He ignored the battlefield entirely in favor of tracing the wave of her collarbone with his other hand, but Amber couldn’t turn off the clanging of combat between her ears.

There was another squeal, this one gurgling upward from the depths of hell, and she knew the creature had found the last of the trio from Empusa. All too quickly, her planned diversion was over, and now the monster had even more terrifying appendages as it lumbered back toward the fray.

“Hoseok, on your left!” screamed Jooheon.

Just in time, Wonho hefted up a fallen tree trunk and hurled it at the winged monstrosity. It fell back into the creek, struggling to right itself under the weight of its sopping wings and brand-new horns.

“Hyungwon, behind!” Wonho warned as he righted himself and charged toward the enemy closing in on the tallest brother, who was already locked in a power struggle with another tall, elven-looking vampire.

Wonho bulldozed the other guy to the floor while Shownu picked up another and launched him through the air.

The next thing Amber knew, Kai was flying backward behind the weight of the body Shownu had hurled, and she was in her partner’s arms, skyrocketing up the goat path to toward the top of the trail. Trees whizzed by so fast they melted into blobs, and fresh air raced into her lungs.

“I’m so fucking glad to see you,” she said, burying her face into his neck and inhaling his comforting scent. “I’m sorry! I thought I could give you more time, and I just fucked it up worse like always.”

“Spiros, it’s okay. If you hadn’t, Changkyun might not have made it. That thing had him dead-to-rights, maybe all of us.”

“God, I was so worried I lost you. Is everyone okay?”

“I’m not sure for how much longer. Kai has twenty soldiers, and they’re all willing to kill. Damnit,” he cursed as he noticed her arm. “There’s no way to hide with that wound leaving a scent trail. We’ll just have to wait for the others to catch up. This should be a good enough tactical position. I'll keep an eye up. You watch below. They should be here soon.”

“How can you tell?”

Shownu glowered at her. “You can't hear them?”

Sure enough, Amber trained her ears down in the canyon, and over the rush of the creek, even over the roar of combat, she heard the bickering.

“Damnit, Honey, I said west!” groaned Kihyun. “No, your other west!”

“You try navigating with a feral puppy on your leash and a bloodsucker on your back,” came the bitter retort.

Amber’s heart swelled even as the screams grew nearer. Since the terrain became rockier and steeper, the battle tapered down with Kai’s lackeys regrouping elsewhere. Shownu didn’t stop manning his post even as his six brothers ascended the path in a single-file line, which suited her just fine since it offered her a buffet line of hugs, each man overjoyed to see her until, finally, the last brother reached her.

“Hyungwon,” she cried, throwing herself into his arms.

He squeezed her to him and whispered, “Thank god.”

“I missed you so much. I dreamt about you.”

Hyungwon nuzzled his cheek on the top of her head. “We know. Another minute, and we would have been able to track you.”

“But you found me.”

“It’s hard to miss the stink of Kai’s unwashed masses.”

“I thought you let me go,” Amber sobbed against his chest. “I thought you didn’t care anymore.”

Hyungwon tilted her face up sharply and in a low voice, he scolded, “How could you think that? How could you ever think we’d let you go?”

“Back at the house—”

“I had no choice,” he explained. “I needed my brothers and a plan. Otherwise, I’d have lost in minutes. You think I’d leave you in that devil’s hands?”

“You might not have a choice.”

“There is always a choice, and we'll always choose you.”

Amber gave him a quick kiss on the lips before she turned her smile on the others. “So, what's this plan?”

“We just need to stall for a little more time—” Kihyun said.

“We don't have it!” Shownu shouted. “Incoming!”

Just then, two vampires drifted down from the ledge above onto the path and immediately charged the closest targets.

“Where the hell are they?” groused Changkyun as he leveled a punch in a vampire face.

“The police?” Amber asked, but it was drowned out by the crack of bone.

“They said they’d come. They’ll come,” Hyungwon replied as he tossed the challenger over the cliff edge.

“Shit, they sure are taking their time,” Jooheon whined as another challenger entered the fray. “I don’t know how much longer I can keep Min leashed. He’s so annoying when he goes full beserker.”

“He’s always annoying,” Kihyun corrected as he followed Hyungwon’s lead and tossed the latest offender over, too.

Jooheon groaned. “Shit, where'd he go?”

Even with their keen eyesight, the brothers barely had time to notice before Minhyuk, who had flattened himself along the cliff face, sprang like a lion, talons extended and face still as stone, at the first enemy to pass in front of him. He slashed at the other vampire’s arm with his right hand, then his left, before his right returned and tore the appendage clean off. It fell to the ground with a thud and twitched in the dirt as Minhyuk casually kicked it off the ledge along with the man to whom it belonged.

“Next?” Minhyuk said, his voice wild with manic laughter.

“What’s wrong with him?” Amber worried.

“His bloodlust has taken hold,” Kihyun answered, fear evident in his voice for the very first time she could remember. “When Minhyuk senses a fight, he can’t control it, and that blood of yours isn’t helping. If someone doesn’t hold him back, he’ll kill every person here.”

“We have to get out of here,” Wonho agreed.

The thought of her beautiful Minhyuk ending up like the twisted creature Kai wielded as a weapon nearly broke Amber in half.

“There’s a parking lot right above us,” she said. “Maybe there’s a car there?”

Shownu sniffed the air and sighed. “Kai’s already up there.”

“Fuck,” growled Wonho.

Minhyuk, however, didn’t seem to care. He was already scrambling up the rockface before Jooheon grabbed his brother around his neck and strangled him back, but it didn’t stop the white-haired photographer. Minhyuk wriggled free and pushed back toward the hill.

Amber dove forward and gripped his sharp cheeks between her hands and squeezed as she begged, “Minhyuk, stop! Look at me! Stop!”

His nose was twitching now, so near her fresh wound, and saliva dripped from his fangs. His mouth opened wide before he lunged toward her bandage, and she screamed.

A split second before he could bite her, their eyes met, and she saw brilliant golds dancing with the fiery reds of hate in their depths.

“Damnit, Spiros, get back!” Shownu warned as he raced to break them up, but Amber shook her head.

Minhyuk’s fangs grazed the blood-soaked fabric around her arm, but his gaze held hers as she said, “It’s okay. I trust him. I trust you, Min, remember? I trust you.”

As she caressed Minhyuk’s face, she watched the angry ridges that transformed him into rage incarnate soften back into his ever-sharp but elegant beauty once again. All too slowly, the fire in Minhyuk’s eyes tempered to simmering coals, but Amber knew she was reaching him.

“If he can’t control it, why would you bring him?” she snapped at the others.

“We didn’t,” Changkyun insisted. “Min’s a wild card. Kihyun even put extra wards on the doors and windows to keep him home. Nobody expected him to break through the walls.”

“Missed you,” the beserker managed as he nuzzled his cheek against her hand. “Save you.”

“We all have to get out of here in onc piece for you to do that,” she said with a quick kiss to his forehead. “I need you to stay with us, okay, Min baby?”

“Then we should get going,” Kihyun added. “We’ve divided their forces as long as we could, but the ones we tossed over will be regaining their strength soon, and if they regroup, I’m not sure we’ll have the energy to hold out.”

“Let’s move,” Hyungwon said. “Hyunwoo, take point. Everyone else, eyes up as well as down. Don’t forget the trees. They have the high ground, so they’ll see us coming. Watch out for a bottleneck.”

As their line crested the last leg of the trail toward the exit, Shownu shouted, and the next thing anyone knew, he’d been hurled through the sky and vanished somewhere in the meadow above, leaving only the imposing shape of Kai’s winged vanguard.

“Hyunwoo!” Amber screamed. She pushed past Changkyun, but he caught her arm and held her back. She glared at him, but he looked instead to Kihyun.

Amber had never seen the lawyer look so fierce. His eyes were narrowed to glowing slits, and his mouth was set in the same grim line. With just a flick of his head, all of the brothers shifted their attention to the top of the hill as though they all shared his same thought.

Changkyun scooped up Amber into a basket of his arms, and in perfect synchronization, the brothers bent their knees and sprang upward. The moment their feet touched the grass, a dozen fanged soldiers charged for them, but the brothers were ready. They pivoted like gates, swinging to the side to let their attackers fall over the ledge, and in the seconds they disappeared, the men used the opportunity to gain more traction on solid ground.

Changkyun dropped Amber between Wonho and himself as they slashed and bit at the trio of lumbering pale-faced vampires that threatened to overwhelm them. Meanwhile, the bloodlust had clouded Minhyuk’s eyes once again, and he was on all fours, charging at the elvish soldier who was back again along with the now one-armed guy Minhyuk had thrown into the canyon. At the edge of the battlefield, Hyungwon and Kihyun were battling Kai’s monster, but their knees were buckling under the weight of his fists, and Jooheon looked on terrified as his heart was pulled in multiple directions.

“Go to them!” Amber screamed. “I’ve got Min.”

Jooheon nodded and charged full-force at those gruesome wings, slashing hard enough to call its attention from his brothers.

There was still no sign of Shownu, and her heart hammered wildly as she searched every shadow. Instead, at the edge of the field, Amber found the lithe, graceful shape of the mastermind of all the carnage. Even in the dark, his smile glowed. All around him, chaos reigned. His army was unceasing and unprincipled. They were unstoppable. They were winning.

And Kai reveled in it.

Amber looked to her lovers, each one flagging under the weight of an enemy they could neither kill nor outrun. They were out of energy, they were out of room, and they were out of time.

She closed her eyes and volleyed every last ounce of hope into the sky as she begged for a miracle.

Please. Please save them.

All at once, the enemy stopped and straightened, noses to the air and eyes narrowed. Snarls of disgust creased their fang faces, and whatever they sensed drew their attention from the battle to the perimeter of the woods. Amber couldn’t see or hear anything over the seething of the vampire mob around her, but something lurked in the darkness that unnerved everyone.

From his cliff throne, Kai scoffed. “Really? So this is how far you boors are willing to debase yourselves? You bedded down with actual mutts in the futile hopes of stopping me?”

“An ally’s an ally, even if it has four legs,” Hyungwon replied coolly as he shoved back the dragon man’s now-still fist.

“Consider it an insurance policy,” echoed Kihyun. “You’re not known for playing fair.”

A long, low-pitched howl sliced through the thick air and sent all eyes skittering to the same corner of the woods.

“A pack of stray werewolves won’t stop destiny,” Kai snapped. “Nothing will.”

“So why do you sound so scared?” needled Changkyun, which garnered him a death glare from the all-powerful vampire.

“It’s not fear, you idiot. It’s frustration. You’re delaying the inevitable by a few more minutes, and I hate having my time wasted.”

“I call bullshit,” challenged Jooheon.

With a much more level tone, Hyungwon added, “We may not be able to kill you, but our allies don’t have the same limitations.”

Kai snorted. “But why would they break the truce?”

“You've already broken it,” Shownu trumpeted as he emerged from the tree line, chucking a vampire across the meadow to a sharp yelp. “You've brought too much attention to those of us who live here. They don't appreciate it either.”

A man’s scream tore across the glade followed by canine snarls and growls. Other horrific sounds—slashing, shredding, bubbling—spiraled into the sky followed by absolute silence.

Amber shivered.

With a snap of his fingers, Kai cut through the quiet, and the remaining vampires froze with their heads jerked back toward their leader.

“To me!” he bellowed, and nearly a dozen of his subjects ringed him as quickly as their maimed bodies allowed. With a fence of vampires around him, Kai looked as confident as ever, but Amber caught the slightest waver in his eyes.

“Face us, you coward,” challenged Wonho.

Kai rolled his eyes. “Please. I have nothing to prove to a bunch of vegan vampires with a legacy of disappointment, but I do have a bride I would like to impress later, and I’m not risking so much as a chipped nail on our wedding night.”

“If you don’t come out yourself,” Kihyun said, “then we’ll let our wolf friends have free playtime, and believe me, they’re already sore about you dumping bodies in their forest.”

As Kai mulled over the ultimatum, lights on the road above caught everyone’s attention. At first, Amber figured it was Aisha returning to her master, but from the slick smirk on Kai’s face, she knew something was terribly wrong.

With a sniff of a laugh, he mused, “Hm, do you know what separates a king from his feudal lords?”

One by one, each of the brothers looked with panicked eyes up the slope. Faintly, Amber heard her name resonating from the parking lot above—impossibly close, impossibly familiar.

“Expendable resources,” Kai answered. His smile only broadened at her name ringing out again.

“Spiros! Spiros, can you hear me?”

Lucas…

“No!” Amber screamed but then immediately covered her mouth. She raced toward the tallest brother, clinging to his tattered shirt. “What’s he doing here, Hyungwon?”

But Kai answered instead. “You don’t think I have contingency plans, my sweet? I gave Aisha instructions to make a call you were in trouble, and guess who came running…”

Fear, even more than adrenaline, coursed through Amber now.

“Stop!” the captain shouted as he crested the lot and jogged down into the meadow, gun raised. His eyes darted between the bloody, slipshod crew of brothers and Kai's smooth, beaming face before settling on the woman between them all. “Nobody move. Spiros, you okay?”

“Lucas, no!” she warned. “Get out of here. You have to go now. You don’t know—”

“No, stay,” said Kai with a pleasant grin. “Please join us.”

“This is Captain Lucas Wong of the Portland Police Bureau, and I am placing you all under arrest for assault on an officer and the murders of Han So Hee and Evelyn Hoover. You are to put down your weapons and put your hands in the air or I will shoot.”

“Luke, stop! Please!” Amber begged. “It’s not what you think—”

“Do it now,” the captain commanded, ignoring her, “or I will use force.”

“Oh, will you, Captain?” Kai said with a daring brow-raise.

True to his word, Lucas did not back down. Instead, he continued to push toward his detective, eyes and gun cycling across all his adversaries.

“My officers have the park surrounded,” he said, though no one could see the red and blue whirlybirds of police lights on any horizon.

“I’m sure they do,” Kai said, amused.

“This is your final warning. Put down your weapons and put your hands behind your backs.”

Nobody moved except for a shrug of Kai’s shoulder.

“Now, how am I supposed to put down my weapon when I am the weapon? Really, Ambrosia, what did you ever see in him?”

Lucas’s eyes narrowed, first at Kai but then at her before they landed on the hulking red beast behind them. The captain’s gun slipped in his sweaty grip as his brain worked to understand something it couldn’t. “What’s going on here?”

But Kai was more than delighted to fill the space with an answer of his own. “Should I tell him, dear?”

“Leave him out of this,” Amber hissed.

“Of course, my little Chalice. I’d be happy to. It’s all so easy. Leave this nonsense behind and be by my side, and everyone walks away safely. It’s a good deal, right?” Kai said as he smoothed his tuxedo jacket and parted the pair of bodyguards before him. “Just a whisper in that bloodbag’s ear, and he’ll forget everything, even you. Isn’t that what you wanted? For him to move on? You can give him that. I can give him that. Just give me your hand.”

“Step back, asshole!” Lucas interjected as he edged along the perimeter toward his loudest antagonist.

“This part doesn’t concern you, Captain. I would appreciate some silence.”

“This is your last warning…”

Kai sighed. “Honestly, Ambrosia how did you live with someone this dense?”

As Lucas’s finger stiffened on his trigger, the vampire zipped toward him with the speed of a hawk. The captain fired three rounds into Kai’s chest, but he didn't make so much as a grunt or a recoil. Lucas’s eyes went wide and his skin paled. No officers swarmed the park, no sirens sounded in the distance. The captain was alone with the impossible.

With a glower, Kai slipped a finger through one of the bullet holes in his lapel and wriggled it. “This was custom-tailored, I’ll have you know.”

The gun wavered in Lucas’s hands for just a moment before the vampire removed it and dropped it to the ground.

“Captain Wong, if you would, please step into my arms.”

Lucas hesitated but only for a moment before he eased into Kai’s welcoming embrace.

“Look at your pretty detective,” the vampire rasped. “Isn’t she gorgeous tonight?”

To her horror, Amber watched the fog roll into Lucas’s eyes the same as it had Eric’s. The captain’s voice was tinted like glass as he answered, “She is.”

“Stop this madness!” Shownu commanded, but it fell on deaf ears, both the captain’s and their adversary’s.

“Ambrosia was once yours, wasn’t she?” Kai asked of the man in his grip.

“She was.”

“She’s mine now.” The vampire squeezed the captain to a melody of grunts and whimpers. “Say it.”

“She’s yours now,” Lucas said.

Satisfied, Kai stroked the sweaty bangs back from his captive’s brow. “Captain Wong, do you want to live?”

“Yes.”

Kai grinned, his gaze leveled now on his golden prize. “Then tell her.”

The tension at the corners of Lucas’s eyes said one thing while his mouth said another. “I want to live.”

“See?” said Kai to the woman sagging under the weight of each new layer of horror.

“I want to live long enough to protect her…” Lucas managed, still faraway but fighting back with the last of his resistance. Amber charged forward a few steps before Kai sighed again, this time belabored.

“Patience, my dove. The curtain has almost fallen on the end of this act. Captain Wong, please tilt your head.”

Lucas did, though it was slow and halting. His eyes were huge, his grimace was deep, and even from a distance, Amber could see his pulse in his throat.

Jooheon and Minhyuk lurched forward now, but Shownu held them both back.

“Curb your strays, Hyungwon,” ordered Kai, “all of them. You’re interfering with the lady’s choice. This comes down to Ambrosia. It always will.”

Reluctantly, Hyungwon whistled, this one low but rising like a hill. His brothers slinked back, as did the wolves just beyond the thickets, though their eyes still flashed green and gold between the trees.

“Good. Very good,” mused Kai. “Finally, some respect.”

“Goddamn you, you bastard,” Amber muttered. “Just fucking stop this.”

“It stops when you stop denying the pull you feel toward me.”

“Lucas has nothing to do with this.”

“He has everything to do with this!” Kai boomed. “You were going to marry him. You were going to marry him instead of me—him—a common air-sucker. Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?”

Amber shook her head, tears flinging out. “I gave him up.”

Kai squeezed the captain tighter as he shouted, “You gave him up for them!”

“I gave him up for you!”

The weight of her words settled like dew over the meadow. Everything seemed unnaturally quiet now, as though the whole world was waiting for her next words.

“I knew once you had me, there'd be no going back.”

“But you did,” the vampire growled. “The moment you saw them, the moment they came back, you ran to them. You left me.”

The sting of pain was hard to ignore in his voice, no matter how misplaced it was, and it stung Amber, too. She could hate Kai with everything she had, but somehow, she still resonated with him like a tuning fork. It was there in her chest, the uncomfortable truth, that he needed her.

“Jesus, Kai, I’m not with you. Don’t you get that? This isn't love. This is loneliness.”

For a moment, Amber forgot the rest of the world. For a moment, Kai’s grip on Lucas faltered. For a moment, she thought she’d broken through. But the next moment, Kai’s eyes were once again as firm as his conviction.

“I'm sorry you doubt me. After all I’ve done for you, after all I’ve shared with you—things I’ve never told anyone...” His voice was so clear, it was the only sound she heard. “I will make you see my heart, Ambrosia, all of it, but I understand now that you won't believe me at my best until you've seen me at my worst.”

Kai’s teeth sank into the captain's flesh before he withdrew to sprays of blood that showered the vampire’s skin and drenched Lucas’s clothes.

Horror slammed into Amber: He wasn't even drinking. He wasn't even drinking….

He was wasting Lucas's blood.

The crimson mess greased Kai’s hand until it loosened enough for the captain to slip out and puddle onto the grass. Lucas staunched the wound at his throat, but it was pointless. His mouth moved wordlessly like a dummy without its master, but his eyes were once again clear and focused solely on Amber.

“There's still time to make a choice that saves his life, Ambrosia,” said Kai. “Accept your fate or be consumed by it. Either way, you’re mine, but one comes with considerably less collateral damage.”

As if to underscore Kai’s point, Lucas sputtered and spit a little geyser of blood across the grass.

“I accept!” she screamed. “Call off your army, and I’ll go with you.”

“Amber, no!” called Changkyun. He lunged for her hand, but she jerked it away.

She whirled back to the seven steadfast men at her back and felt her decision galvanize in her chest. She stood as tall as she could and said, “I can’t let anything happen to any of you.”

“You don’t know what you’re agreeing to,” Kihyun stressed.

Shownu nodded. “This is worse.”

“Way worse,” finished Wonho.

But Amber shook her head, and her eyes fell to her captain, writhing less and less with every pump of his heart. In a near whisper, she said, “It can’t be worse.”

As she closed the gap between her future and her past, her body felt heavier and heavier, like she was descending into the ocean depths, and with every step, the pressure intensified. Just before she crossed that invisible threshold where she was crushed forever, she turned back for one last look at the men who had changed her life in every conceivable way.

Amber knew now that they would never give her up, the same way she knew which way was up. The same way she knew that if she didn’t put a stop to it, everyone would be dead within minutes.

She steadied her heartbeat before she said to them, “I need you to do two final things for me.”

Wonho was crying as was Jooheon while Changkyun supported a limp and finally sober Minhyuk on his shoulder, and Kihyun glared blackly at her. Though his shirt was in tatters and gashes ran the length of his face and arms, Shownu stood as motionless as she remembered him from that first day she’d met him. But it was Hyungwon’s face that made the most ragged cut.

Those soft, exquisite features were blank of every emotion, as though he were no longer a man but a statue, beautiful and hollow.

Love me, too. Please…

Amber swallowed the lump in her throat and closed her eyes, willing away the emptiness in his face.

This is how I’ll love you, she thought bitterly.

“Save Luke,” she said, grateful that her voice didn’t break the way she was breaking inside. “Please, I’m begging you. And find a way to let me go. If you’re alive, then a part of me will go on living, too, no matter what.”

“Amber—” Hyungwon started, but she waved him off. Even the rasp of his voice threatened to send her barreling back to him.

“You have to do this for me because if you don’t, I really won’t forgive you. This is my choice, and by choosing this, I’m really choosing you.”

Behind her, Kai huffed, and even though she couldn’t see him, she could feel how she’d siphoned some of his power. It wouldn’t be long before his delusions overtook him again, but it was enough for him to know where her heart lived right now.

“Swear it, Hyungwon!” Amber demanded.

With lips ever-flushed but now wooden, he said, “I swear.”

It felt as final as a mythical oath. There was no clap of thunder or earthquake beneath their feet, but the words reverberated just the same.

Amber turned to Kai, who grinned from ear to ear and offered his hand. She shook her head and said, “Let them get Lucas first.”

“As you wish,” he said and stepped to the side, as did his soldiers.

Kihyun and Shownu surged past her, brushing her arms along the way so their goodbyes ached in her bones. They gathered up Lucas, whose head was lolling now while his limbs jostled limply with every step.

Amber stopped them long enough to check his leaking wound and comfort him one last time. His eyes were open and full of a dark mix of confusion, horror, fear, and begging. Though he couldn’t speak, she could hear her captain clear as day in her mind.

Don’t do it, Spiros.

With her determination renewed, she turned her attention back to the tuxedoed man waiting smugly ahead of her. She matched his high chin and straight back though her hands balled in her skirt, betraying her confidence. “Now, you. You swear that you will let them be.”

“Yes, yes, that’s a given,” the vampire said with an eye roll.

“Don’t fuck with me, Kai. No tricks, no games. Do I need to name each of them specifically?”

He wrinkled his lip at the pseudonym as much as the threat. “I’d rather you didn’t.”

“Then, swear it!”

“I swear it, my lady,” he said with his hand on what was left of his heart before he bowed deeply to her. “And I thought I was theatrical. Now, since it’s all settled at long fucking last, I beg you join my side, goddess.”

The slot beside him seemed to glimmer, and she moved toward it as if pulled. As powerful and important as Kai claimed she was, Amber felt helpless, especially when his hands closed around her waist followed by the back of her neck. He was facing her now, differently than he had all night. His smugness made him taller, and his victory made him broader. It was as if he were going to consume her.

“There it is again,” he murmured. “Do you feel the energy between us?”

Beneath her shame and her rage, Amber did. God help her, she did.

It was like the ocean pulling back from the shore farther and farther and farther. She could feel the next wave marshalling on the horizon more ferociously than ever, shaking her bones with anticipation.

“Lean into that. Lean into me,” Kai whispered.

Even if she wanted to continue fighting, Amber couldn’t. She flattened her body against him to his little groan. The hand on her neck urged her forward still until her head rested on his chest. Kai was painfully hard against her hip—at his conquest, at his audience, at her submission—and she shivered. He stroked her hair and clasped her so fiercely to him that Amber thought she might become a part of him.

Kai purred above her. “Look at them one last time, my sweet Ambrosia. Show them what they will never have again.”

He guided her head toward an image that would never leave her.

Lucas was still choking on blood and convulsing on the ground while Jooheon clamped a hand over the captain’s wound, but she could see how wet his fingers were. Minhyuk shook in Shownu’s grip, but her partner held fast even if he begged to release his feral brother. So much heartbreak, so much outrage. But as dead as each brother’s eyes were, all of them stayed rooted until Amber was convinced they’d turned to stone.

Kai hummed in delight.

“Kiss me,” he ordered, wrenching Amber’s gaze from her lovers to the devil above her, “and mean it.”

His mouth dipped to meet hers, and their lips finally connected.

All she could taste was black cruelty, bitter and sad and as painful to the touch as dry ice. As Kai’s tongue slipped into her mouth, a tear slipped down her cheek. Dimly, Amber heard a cry beside her, but she knew it wasn���t from her. She had accepted her role, and she gave her full self unto it.

She shoved her lips harder against his, and Kai moaned when her tongue glided into his mouth. She teased him with it, curling it back like a beckoning finger until he answered her call with a thrust of his bottom lip between hers. When Amber had it, she bit hard enough to draw blood—her last show of defiance before she became the empty vessel waiting to be filled.

Kai snarled but didn’t withdraw. Instead, he took it as permission to kiss Amber more roughly, and when he finally let her come up for air, her lips were blotted with blood and his handsome face had twisted into his vampire mask. His fangs peeked over his wounded lip, and he licked up the speckles of his blood to a satisfied smile.

He let out an appreciative laugh. “Oh, you definitely meant that. You skipped a few steps in our ceremony, but we can seal our blood marriage here if you insist. And, look! How nice. We already have witnesses to our union.”

Amber’s stomach lurched, as much from the leaden taste of Kai’s wrong blood as the horrified looks on the brothers’ faces.

Kai drew her in front of him, face-out just as he had for Lucas, but his grip was different. One hand splayed over her stomach while the other cupped the underside of her breasts. He guided her head to the side so everyone could get a clear view of her neck. His nose ghosted along the skin there with a murmur of appreciation before it crinkled.

He scowled. “Makeup?”

With the butt of his palm, he scrubbed her skin and then howled. The dark stain of Kihyun’s brand still lingered, but even worse, now it was framed by fresh pinpoint scabs.

Kai’s voice was perilous as he said, “Which one of you swamp-blood bastards took what didn’t belong to you?”

The brothers looked between each other, but the questioning glances stopped the moment they noticed Hyungwon’s eyes locked with Amber’s.

The tallest brother took a step forward.

“She doesn’t belong to you. She belongs with us.”

“Oh really?” laughed Kai, fondling her breast for emphasis. “Yet here she is, walking right into my embrace.”

Lean into me…

That next wave was still gathering inside Amber. The further it withdrew, the more of her it laid bare, but now it was building with unprecedented speed, and she wouldn’t deny it anymore. It needed to break. She needed to break.

“Shut up,” she demanded. Fury permeated her every breath as she tossed stray hairs from her throat and pushed back into her captor. “Stop fucking talking and just do it.”

Kai grinned at the ring of defeated faces before him. With vicious irony, he laughed, “You heard the lady.”

The vampire kissed her throat reverentially—once, twice—and then savored a long lick of the sweat stippled there. A moment later, Amber felt the pain, familiar now, penetrating to her soul as her blood pumped into his ravenous jaws. Kai was inside her, not just his teeth but his very essence. She could feel him slinking through her veins and clawing toward her heart.

At last, the wave of their potential smashed against her with enough force to empty the breath from her lungs. It was like a rush of water over her head, spinning her and upending her and drowning her. It wasn’t a current Amber could swim against. It wasn’t something she could tame. Her only option was to lose herself in it.

Against her wishes, one of her hands covered Kai’s, kneading and squeezing as more of her strength and her will flowed into him. With every vigorous gush of blood against his tongue, he moaned and rutted against her while she slackened in his arms the way that Johnny had… the way that Lucas had. Kai was taking so much—so much of her blood, so much of her spirit. Her grip was loosening. Her knees were giving out. Her mettle was crumbling. Maybe this was how she died…

“You’re killing her!” screamed Jooheon.

It was nearly too late by the time Kai realized how limp Amber was in his embrace. Together, they fell to the ground where he sealed the wound at her neck. He held her face in his hands, his fingers digging into her yielding flesh.

“Ambrosia! Ambrosia!”

He was shaking her now, trying to focus the color behind her stained-glass eyes.

“Come back.”

Slowly, she blinked, and the world came back into focus.

“I’m sorry,” Kai said desperately, clutching her against him like a ragdoll. “I took too much. I took too much, I’m sorry. Come back to me. Come back, please…”

Maybe it was her blood-starved brain, but it sounded inexplicably sincere.

Head pounding and vision fuzzy, she pushed out of Kai’s lap and tumbled onto the grass.

“Ambrosia? Baby?”

His words were too soft. Her brain was too scrambled. Her heart felt like it was skipping every other beat. But through all of that, there was something inside her telling her to keep moving, keep surging with the wave.

Her hands groped blindly through the pine needles and damp grass until, at last, Amber found the steely conviction to get up. She pushed up, dizzy but never forgetting that singular something she still had to do.

Meanwhile, Kai shot up alongside her, offering his body as a crutch that she reluctantly used until she got her bearings. Now before each other again, he caressed her cheeks and hair and whispered strange gratitudes and other things that sounded foreign out of a creature with a corn husk for a soul.

“Never again… Never again…”

There was that thing in the back of Amber’s mind again, a nagging compulsion heavy in both her head and her hand, some kind of an invisible compass pointing her in a direction she couldn’t even see, only feel.

Whatever it was, Kai felt it, too. Slowly, his hands stilled on her face until they disappeared, moving instead to his own chest. He staggered back a step and then another. His vampire mask had faded, replaced now with a different kind of twist in his features, this one full of confusion and definitely pain. As sweat peppered his brow, he grasped fistfuls of his tuxedo jacket and wobbled on his feet.

“What is this? What have you done to me?”

His voice was thin with shock, but it was nothing to the surprise in the whites of his eyes when the shot rang out.

This time when he clutched at his chest, his hands came back soaked with blood. He held them in front of his face for a long moment before he turned them toward the woman with blood on her lips and Lucas’s gun in her hand.

“Ambrosia?” Kai whimpered before he fell to his knees.

Amber stood there, gun trembling in her grip before it fell back to the mess of leaves where she’d found it. She couldn’t move. She was frozen, staring at the empty woods ahead of her.

Kai pitched forward, landing face-first at her hips, his nose nuzzling languidly over her womb. He kissed her once there as tears fell from his face.

“All I wanted was you,” he whimpered, his voice as strained as it was sad.

He clawed aimlessly at her skirt as he struggled to hold on, but his grip failed him, and his face fell to her feet now, pine needles and grass clinging to his bloody lips as his chest heaved with breaths he hadn't taken in nearly 700 years. With the last of his strength, his fingers played with the hem of her dress, tragic little tugs as he begged for her attention.

His mouth opened, but no more words came out, just blood and one last breath.

“He's dead?” said Jooheon incredulously.

“He’s human,” replied Changkyun just as shocked.

Amber stared at the elegant fingers draped loosely now around her ankle. Those same fingers had stolen the life from countless victims, from her own sister, and yet something in Amber’s chest ached at the sight of them forever still.

“Goodbye, Jongin,” she whispered as she closed her eyes to blot out the last of the wave as it dwindled away to nothing.

“Amber!”

Shownu’s frantic voice beckoned her from the void, and she jerked free of Kai’s final embrace.

His minions were staring at her, fangs bared and tongues wagging as they sniffed at the honey blood in the air. Without Kai’s will to hold them back, they would be on her in a second.

Suddenly, Hyungwon’s whistle lilted on the wind, this one faster and angrier than the last. In a flash, streaks of gray shot from the tree line and tore into the field with roars and barks. Wolf claws and jaws sank into vampire flesh, wrenching chunks from limbs and gouging holes in chests.

When Amber couldn’t find the strength to run anymore, Wonho darted forward and scooped her up, jetting her back to the rest of the family. Jooheon looked up with saucer eyes and then back down to his makeshift seal at Lucas’s throat.

“I’m sorry. It’s not my wound. I can’t close it,” he said, voice trembling.

Amber knelt beside the captain and pressed the back of her hand to Lucas’s face. His skin was cool and ashen. His eyes were blank, his breath shallow, and his lips bone dry. She put her fingers to his wrist, but his pulse was too low to count.

“We have to get him to a hospital,” she urged, but Shownu shook his head.

“He’s too far gone. He’ll never make it.”

Amber tried to make out her partner’s words, but they were too surreal. All this magical bullshit in the world, and Lucas was still going to die? She wouldn’t accept it. She couldn’t. “Then change him, damnit! He can’t die! You promised me! You swore.”

Kihyun put a hand on her shoulder. “You know about our pact, Ambrosia. I wish we could, but it’s unbreakable. It’s out of our hands.”

“But I can fix it later,” she pleaded. “You saw that, right? It will be like it never happened, okay? Please just do it. Just fucking do it!”

The brothers started to argue, but they were all talking at once, and it was wasting precious time. Amber didn’t have the brain power anymore to weed any of it out especially over the nightmare symphony still going on behind them.

The last of Kai’s great creations, the monstrous Junmyeon, finally fell under the relentless attack of several voracious wolves. His wings looked like streamers and only the last human piece of his face remained unblinking at the sky. The remaining vampire stragglers took off into the woods, leading most of the wolves on their scent, but two lingered behind and trotted over to the brothers.

Maybe it was distortion from her tears, but Amber could barely make sense of the kaleidoscope shift of colors from gray to white and finally tan. Before her now stood one large wolf and a toned, naked man with mahogany hair and the shrewd eyes of a tycoon. The man crouched down beside Lucas and lifted the captain’s limp hand.

“They don’t break their pact for anyone,” the stranger said, “but I’ve been known to bend for a pretty lady.”

Minhyuk bared his fangs at the interloper, but Wonho reined him in with a sturdy chokehold. It didn’t seem to faze the stranger.

“I’ll shoot you straight,” he continued. “I could use another pack member. Been harder and harder to find these days. It’s got to be someone fearless and strong with just the right amount of stupid. I think your captain fits the bill. What do you say?”

Now, Amber was sure she was in some kind of a fever dream thanks to the wound on her arm. Even with all she knew about vampires, this seemed like a ludicrous reach.

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about! I can’t make that decision for him,” Amber exclaimed. “I don’t know anything about your kind or you, and I—I don’t think I can ever undo it.”

“You can’t, but the way I see it, your guy only has two options: death or the wolf. You have to decide.”

“Kun…” Hyungwon said softly as he rested a hand on the naked man’s shoulders, but Kun waved him off.

“Does—does it hurt?” she stuttered.

“A lot, yeah, but the pain’s a lot less permanent than death.”

“The window’s closing, Amber,” Jooheon said with his ear pressed to Lucas’s chest.

Out of options, Amber grabbed her captain’s face in her hands and swiped her thumbs along his cheekbones. She brushed his hair back from his face only to find it as pale and cold as the moon. “Lucas? Lucas, can you hear me?”

His head rolled toward her. His mouth moved, but no sounds came out except a faint gargle.

“Lucas, baby? Baby, I have to know. They can save you, but if they do, you’ll be like—. You’ll be—” Her words snagged in her throat as she tried to face wicked reality. “—you’ll be different. Do you want that? Baby, please tell me.”

He couldn’t answer. He couldn’t even move his head. His eyes glazed as they stared into hers, one a blue heaven, the other a divided hell.

“Now, Ambrosia,” Kihyun demanded. “Tell us.”

With her blood in her ears and her heart in her mouth, she whispered, “Save him.”

The naked man swiveled to face the wolf with him and patted it between its shoulder blades. In a low voice, Kun said, “Do it, Xiaojun.”

Instantly, the wolf lunged and bit Lucas on the arm. Several of the brothers jumped back while Shownu grabbed Amber and pinned her against him. It only lasted a split second before the wolf retreated and Kun advanced so he was looming over the captain.

“I need you all to back up,” he ordered. “He has to imprint me as his alpha once the change happens.”

The brothers did as asked though nothing seemed to change. Lucas still looked dead. He hadn’t even flinched at the bite, and hope was waning. But a moment later, every muscle in his body was struck unnaturally rigid, and he released the howl of a soul being ripped from its earthly home. When there wasn’t an ounce of torture left in his lungs to spill into the world, Lucas sagged against the earth, eyes wide and mouth agape.

He was looking at Amber—through her—but he wasn’t there. She sobbed, her nails gouging her thighs. She couldn’t look away. What had she done? What had she invited into his world and trapped in there with him?

“Lucas…” she whimpered.

“Get her back!” Kun warned.

Lucas’s body seized again, this time arching his back sharply as he convulsed. His fingers crooked and his feet twisted as his heels worked shallow graves into the ground.

“Jesus, when will this end? Make it stop!” Amber wailed, but, now back to himself again, Minhyuk held her tightly in his arms, and she was so relieved to have him back, she burrowed into his chest.

“This is the price of living,” said Kun. “It will be over soon.”

She flinched and let Minhyuk tuck her face deeper into him as his arm wrapped around her head.

“It’ll be over soon,” the vampire repeated.

She heard more scuffling mixed with unholy creaks and groans that couldn’t possibly come from a human. If nightmares had a soundtrack, she thought, this would be it. She would hear it forever.

Then, suddenly, all was quiet. Amber peeked over Minhyuk’s arm and saw Kun there, unabashedly naked but looking as confident as if he had his hands stuffed in expensive suit pockets.

“Lucas, is it?” the stranger said in perfect nonchalance. “Nice to meet you. I’m Kun. I’m here to welcome you into our pack.”

“Amber?” the captain croaked.

“Your lady-friend? Yeah, she saved your life. But, listen, things are about to get a lot hairier for you, so we have to hightail you back to the house. Can’t have you going through the rest of the transformation this close to dawn. You two can catch up later, yeah?”

Lucas ignored the stranger and rolled his head to the side until he found Amber clutching Minhyuk. The second his eyes landed on her, she scrambled to his side. “You’re alive!”

“Amber, what’s happening to me? What are they? Are—”

She placed a quick kiss to his lips and shook her head. “All that matters is that you’re safe. I wish I could explain everything like you deserve, but you have to go with them, okay? They’re friends. They’ll take care of you.”

Amber looked up at Hyungwon, who nodded, though it was a little late now to be making sure she could trust transforming wolves from the woods.

Kun smiled, his mouth full of perfect white, perfectly human teeth. “You can always trust your pack. Now, let’s hit the road. The clock’s a-ticking.”

After another quick kiss, Amber moved back so Jooheon and Changkyun could help the captain up before they dragged him back toward his car with Kun and the wolf following. Kun opened the back door, and the wolf hopped in as though it were a pet. Once Lucas was strapped in the passenger seat, Kun waved to everyone and, still buck naked, climbed in the driver’s seat and took off, leaving the rest of his wolves to find their way back.

Slowly, Amber turned around. There was no way to avoid the carnage before her—bodies everywhere, some whole and some in pieces, blood, fabric, huge chunks of turf. There, near the edge, somehow spotlighted by starlight, lay Kai. He was just as she’d left him, facedown, groveling at feet that were no longer there, still beautiful but forever broken.

“It’s getting late,” Kihyun said. “We have to clean up. Let’s get her home and into bed.”

“I should stay,” Amber protested, stumbling forward on autopilot toward the man in the tuxedo.

Strong arms curled around her waist as a chin rested on her shoulder. She was so numb, she barely felt it as Wonho hugged her and said, “It’s time to go, Amber.”

“Everything will be all right,” Shownu promised.

“All right?” she said, her breath hitching. “How could it ever be all right? I just turned Luke into some—thing. So many people are dead. Johnny is dead—an FBI agent is dead. The whole fucking precinct will be here any minute, and there are just… so many fucking bodies. There’s a fucking demon with wings in the same grass where kids play frisbee! And Jongin— Damnit, how is any of this sane or even remotely okay?”

Her words fired like an assault rifle, and Amber struggled for big, hiccupping breaths between every one before Hyungwon cradled her face in his hands and forced her gaze up to him, and suddenly, she could breathe again.

“We’ll get through it, Amber,” he whispered. “We’ll get through it together because we love you, too.”

Through all the impossibilities she’d just witnessed, somehow that felt like the most impossible thing of all, but it was the only answer she could truly believe in. She looked from perfect face to perfect face and felt that swell of peace that could only come from perfect love.

Together…

She’d never heard a more beautiful word.

Her heart once again beating in her chest, Amber nodded as she whispered, “I’m ready to go home.”

A/N: An open letter to EXO: 

Dear boys,

I’m so sorry, especially to the very sweet and pretty Suho and the extraordinarily perfect Kai. I wish I could have written it any other way, but this was the only one that worked. I’ll make it up to you someday! No hard feelings? Please! I love you!

Sincerely,

The horrible bitch author :(

[acourtofsnakes]

Tracinya - Rogue, Chapter 23 | The Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader

Summary: Nothing will stop you from rescuing Din. Anyone who stands in your way is merely an obstacle to be removed. But will you be merciful... or listen to that dark call? 

Warnings: Injury detail, blood, guns(of the space variety), knives, fighting, swearing, death, watch me make things up about the Force again. 

Word Count: 13k+ (I got carried away?)

AN: Well. This ended up a lot longer than I expected it to be. I got rather carried away it seems  ((oh well)) Also, I have checked this ((twice)) but its over 13k words and there is going to be something I missed. 

Introduction

1: Solus | 2: Arir | 3: Tor | 4: Gaa'tayl ^ | 5: Kyr’am | 6: Cabur ^ | 7: Ret'urcye Mhi | 8: Haran | 9. E’tad | 10: Tome * | 11: Aliit Ori'shya Tal'din * | 12: Mar’eyce**^ | 13: Kov’nyn | 14: Ne’tra ^ | 15: Or’dinii | 16: Dar | 17: Haalur | 18: Mesh’la** | 19: Talyc ^^ | 20: Jorhaa'ir ^^ | 21: Hibirar | 22: Jetii’kad | 23: Tracinya | 

Rogue| The Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader (f) Taglist: @snipskixandbeskar @weirdowithnobeardo @the-bottom-of-the-abyss​ @kenoobiwan @sarahjkl82-blog @boomtownboy @goldielocks2004 @seninjakitey @what-iwish-you-knew @queenofthefaceless @rosiefridayrogersunday @greeneyedblondie44 @itsnottilly @welcometothepedroverse @xgoldenjenny @mamacitapascal @heyitsjaybird @amyk-37 @greatcircle79

Permanent Taglist: @greeneyedblondie44 @mamacitapascal @mypedrom @undiscovered-misunderstood @kaylee-krystal

Mando’a Translation: Tracinya - Flame

There was no part of his body that wasn’t screaming in pain. 

His right leg was broken, possibly in two places, and his left ankle was fractured. 

He had taken the fall on his right side, meaning the impact had dislocated his shoulder and shattered his collarbone, resulted in searing agony whenever he moved his head. 

Not only that, but every breath felt like glass and fire, a pain he was familiar enough with to know he also had at least three broken ribs. 

Of course, there were bruises – his entire body was probably littered with purple and black smudges – and cuts. 

Din didn’t remember hitting the floor. Only remembered saying goodbye and then… nothing. He supposed he should be grateful, because from the state his body was in, the feeling of impact would have been horrendous, his body crushed under the very armour that was made to keep him safe. 

He’d been convinced that was it, the lights were turned off and the Maker would come to greet him. 

And yet, after an indeterminable amount of darkness… there was suddenly light. 

Harsh, blinding light and hands moving over his body, checking for injury and – 

They were going to remove his armour. 

The thought and realisation sent shockwaves of terror through him, and despite the agony that had threatened to suck him under, survival instinct kicked in and he lashed out. Taking down anyone who came near him, the medics, the guards, Troopers – anyone who threatened to touch his armour. He was like a caged animal, defending his last dying breath even as his head spun and his knees gave way. 

He fought for consciousness, long enough to see a pair of immaculate boots walk in, the edge of a long, ebony cloak embroidered with gold.

Through the roaring in his head, he heard a silken voice ordering everyone to stand down, that if anyone removed the amour, they would be removed of their head. 

And then he had been sucked back into a fitful abyss 

Din wasn’t sure how long ago that had been.

The room – cell – they had put him in contained no windows, no clocks, nothing to give him indication to what time it was. Only a few artificial lights placed on each wall – which he was grateful for, because the dim lighting was a minimal balm to his pulsating head. 

Only a thin cot for him to sleep on, pushed into the corner of the room and a tiny area in the corner where he could relieve himself. The ceiling rose far above him, giving the impression of being at the bottom of a very small, very dark pit. 

There was no regular pattern to when they pushed a tray of food and water through a tiny hatch in the door either, so he couldn’t even use that. 

Not that he could have concentrated anyway, with the agony waging war on his body. 

He’d had countless injuries before and danced the line of death so many times he was surprised he kept getting away with it. 

And yet this… this was bad. 

His vision kept fading in and out, blurriness making his sight hazy before it cleared again, but not without leaving fuzzy auras that floated in his peripheral. 

Concussion too then… a bad one. 

He just prayed there was no permanent damage. 

He could still talk, though his voice was hoarse and ragged when he whispered to himself the names of his loved ones – he could still remember them, thankfully.  

The ability to move remained intact – though heavily compromised. He could only manage tiny movements, embarrassingly slow as he tried not to move his neck or shoulder… or head… or back. 

An escape probably wasn’t going to be possible for a while. 

Din sighed, laying in an awkward position on his cot, one that gave the least pain. 

Again, his thoughts returned to his haven. 

You. 

You were going to kill him when he got out. 

Either for being a hypocrite, or for the worry he was causing you. 

The worry, no… the heart-wrenching terror he had heard in your voice mere moments before he fell. That cruel fear of the consequences as you laid into him, tried to keep that anger contained but he knew you too well. Knew that this would be tearing you to pieces.

He had felt the exact same way when you were taken – when she died. 

You were a rather dysfunctional pair, weren’t you. 

That thought had him chuckling – and then groaning as the small movement sent shockwaves from his broken ribs. 

Maker, he was battered. 

He didn’t even know how it had all gone so wrong. 

One minute he was flitting through the sky, dodging blaster fire and the next there was a loud pop and smoke began billowing from his back, from the jet pack. 

A very carefully aimed shot, with precision and intent – not to blow him up by shooting at the fuel lines… but perfectly lined up to knock out the thrusters and sent him tumbling to Earth. 

There was only one person he knew that could make a shot like that. 

Someone he should have foreseen, if he was honest with himself. 

Looking back, the townspeople letting slip the information about the base… that had clearly been a trap. 

A false trail to lead them right to the doorstep of the very people trying to chase them down. 

Din hadn’t just led himself to his death… but his friends too. He had no idea where they were, if they’d escaped – if they were even alive. 

He was disgusted with himself, the way he had so easily and thoughtlessly allowed his friends to be brought to such danger. He should have just gone in alone but… he hadn’t been thinking straight. 

When he’d heard that there was a whole base dedicated to finding his sweetheart… a whole legion of Stormtroopers trained, and no doubt given weapons specifically made to defend and attack Force users, he’d lost it. 

How could he walk away knowing all of that? Knowing they were going to come after you?

He couldn’t. He didn’t.

And now look where he was. 

Movement outside his door suddenly broke him from his reverie, a shadow moving past the gap in the food hatch. 

Something beeped outside the cell, multiple locks sliding and scraping through the door and then it was pushed open. 

Din blinked against the sudden harsh light flooding his cell, his helmet damaged so his visor didn’t adjust to the brightness the way it should have done. 

As his eyes cleared, he saw a figure lean and tall, wearing a long cloak – with golden embroidery. 

Oh, joy.

Anger sizzled through his reluctant body as Haran prowled into his cell, filling the small room with that unearthly presence. The shadows of the room seemed to cling to him, perhaps recognising that their master had arrived. 

Din grunted, ignoring the screaming agony that flooded his senses as he dragged his body to sit up, leaning heavily against where the two walls joined near his bed. If this was his end, he didn’t want to be laying down. 

If it was a friendly little chat… well, he could at least give himself a better position to punch the bastard in that overly pretty face. 

Haran stopped in the centre of the room, lifting gloved hands to his hood and he pushed it back.

He looked the same as always. 

Sharp cheekbones accentuated his face, which was neither old nor young – timeless, for no one knew how long this man had truly been alive.

Amber eyes that dominated his appearance, simmering like molten gold and only highlighting the fact that he wasn’t quite human. 

 The twin scars across his mouth and eye did nothing to mar the beauty of him – and Din supposed that was all part of the act. A beautiful face, a silken voice and a laugh that could bring entire villages to their knees to worship this fallen dark prince.

Before he slaughtered them all. 

Din hated him. 

Those golden eyes simmered with amusement as he beheld Din, as if knowing the thoughts going through the Mandalorian’s head… which he probably did. 

He cocked his head, a smile lifting his full lips, “Well, fancy seeing you so soon, Lori.” 

Din growled, his hands tightening into fists and he wished his blazing glaze would melt through his beskar helmet and sear straight into those lion’s eyes. 

That damn lovers laugh rippled through the tiny room, setting Din’s teeth on edge, “Oh, Mando, no need to be so defensive. You had to know what would happen when you decided to infiltrate a base dedicated to hunting your little Jedi.” 

“You won’t find her.” Din spat the words, wishing his body wasn’t so battered, wishing his had his strength so he could tear this creature apart. 

Haran’s smile widened, revealing a set of pearly white teeth, his scar tugging ever so slightly at the corner of his mouth – a predators grin, “That’s not entirely true, considering I found her so easily last time. But I won’t need to find her.” He examined his cloak, brushing a speck of invisible dust from it. 

Dread coiled in Din’s gut, “She doesn’t know where I am. She won’t be able to find me, so you can’t lure her here like a piece of bait. She’s smarter than that.” With every word, he had the sinking feeling that he was saying exactly what the King of Shadows and Death expected him to. 

“You see, I would believe you, if not for one tiny little detail.” Now Haran inspected his gloves, tugging the buckles that tightened them around his wrists, a picture of cool, arrogant confidence. 

It was an effort for Din to keep his voice steady, “And what is that?” 

Please no, please…

Haran looked up at him again, a dark curl falling over his forehead, “I hacked into your comms system, right as you hit the deck. You really should get some better tech, Mando.” He clasped his hands behind his back, “I sent a distress signal to your pretty Jedi, telling her your exact coordinates and even how to get in.” 

Din simply made a noise of horror, knowing that nothing in the world would stop you from finding him. You were stubborn, headstrong and determined… all combined with a fierce desire to save the ones you loved. 

He just prayed Ahsoka would make you see sense. You would be smart about this… right?

Haran shrugged lightly, “I don’t think even Tano will be able to hold her back.” 

Sick bastard, reading his thoughts. 

“I guess we’ll see who’s right soon enough, won’t we?” With that, he turned, walking back to the door, where he knocked twice. 

The beep and locks sounded again, and Haran looked over his shoulder at Din, who was still struck dumb with dread, “Why, I bet she’s already on her way right now.” He laughed low, and then he was gone with a sweep of his cloak.

~~~

~~

You were beside yourself with panic and terror in the first few hours after the call cut off. 

Your scream had woken Ahsoka and the kids, who made it to your tree in time to see you half fall from the branches, stumbling around looking for something, anything to help. 

You could barely hear Ahsoka calling your name, until she grabbed you, forcing you to look at her and calm down. You’d told her what happened, before yanking out her grasp and running to the camp. 

Nothing was computing in your brain, nothing except a primal instinct to go and save Din right now. 

Again, you hadn’t heard her calling your name, mumbling over and over that you needed to go, you needed to get out of here, Din needed you. 

Except there was just one problem…

“Slow down. How are we going to get off of the planet? We don’t have a ship…” Ahsoka spoke calmly, but firmly. She was watching you tear through the camp, emotions a wreck and noting you were moments away from a panic attack. 

You had turned to her, clutching your belongings in your arms, your breathing coming in sharp pants, “Then - then we’ll just… Um...” Casting your eyes about helplessly, you had felt your throat close up, your heart race and your palms start sweating. 

A sob had been about to break from your lips but then – you both heard it. 

The tell-tale sound of a twig breaking, of hushed voices. 

The pair of you whipped your heads in unison, toward the sound and your panic attack vanished, being replaced with the cool ice of battle. The things in your arms had been placed on the floor and then Ahsoka’s voice had been in your head, “You go left, I’ll go right. We’ll meet in the middle.” 

You nodded, reaching for your blade but then Ahsoka had held out a hand to stop you, instead… holding out one of her sabers. 

Oh.

Yes, you’d trained with it but… now she was letting you use it for real, in actual combat? 

Lifting your eyes to hers, she had seen what you were thinking and simply smiled encouragingly. 

That said enough, so you curled your fingers around it and then the pair of you had separated, footsteps lighter than air as you both forged a protective Force field around the kids. 

Moving through the trees, marking the intruders... it had all soothed you, soothed the ache and terror in your chest for the time being. 

Your power let you know they were close, and you hovered in the darkness for a moment, watching the two cloaked figures and sensing Ahsoka opposite you. Something flowed through the air, like a confirmation and you activated the lightsaber, springing from your hiding space with a burst of glowing late. 

“Wait!!! Wait, it’s us!!!” The two cloaked figures turned around, dropping their hoods so their faces would be revealed in the glow from both your sabers. 

Cara, and another man you didn’t recognise – bald, with a numerous harness and straps that no doubt held weapons under his cloak. 

You made a nose, lowering the saber, “Cara?! I thought… I thought you were with Lori – what are you doing here?” Despite the situation, the anonymous nickname for him came out instantly – protecting his identify even here. 

Cara looked from you to Tano, who was still standing in a somewhat defensive position with her saber held out. “We were… We’d split up to take down more of the Troopers. Mando took to the sky to draw fire so we could sweep through them. When we saw him get taken down, we had a choice. Either get captured ourselves, or go and get help.” 

You blinked, a frown forming on your face, “Hang on, let me get this right.” Something stirred in your chest, something smouldering, “You saw Din get taken down, saw him fall from the sky, into the clutches of Stormtroopers who are no doubt reporting to Moff Gideon… and you ran away?” The last two words come out in an incredulous tone, your face showing confusion as you looked between Cara and the other man. 

He raised his hands, shaking his head, “Hey, I wouldn’t go as far as to call it running away. We didn’t know he’d contacted you; we didn’t know how anyone would find us. If we got captured too, there was no way we could get out. Only Boba and Fennec knew where we were, they wouldn’t have been enough.”

Ahsoka raised her eyebrows, stepping closer – never lowering her lightsaber, “So, he’s there alone? Or wherever else they’ve taken him?” 

The man blinked as he looked at her, “Do you mind lowering that thing, lady? I don’t see how we’re the enemies here.”

You snarled at him, mimicking Ahsoka in the closer advance, “I’m not calling you enemies, I’m stunned that you just abandoned him there!!”

Cara held out a hand, trying to diffuse the situation, “Mayfeld, shut up.” She looked at you, “Look, Mando isn’t incapable of taking care of himself. He’s been in situations like this before, he’ll be fine.” 

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing, your head spinning, “He’ll be fine?! He could be anywhere, Cara! Who knows where they’ve dragged him, what they’re doing to him! I’m not doubting for a second that he’s been captured before – but not by an army of Troopers, alone, after falling hundreds of feet from the fucking sky! How about I push you out of the open air in a metal tomb and you tell me if you’re up to fighting your way out of an Imperial army.” 

Mayfeld squared up to you, tensions running high, “You know, you might want to be a little more understanding. I’m sure if the situation was reversed, Mando would have - ”

Suddenly, you had pulled free your knife and it was held to his throat, “If you dare say he would have done the same, I’ll cut your throat.” You didn’t care that these were Din’s friends. Didn’t care that they were obviously here to help. 

You were furious, feeling helpless and well… you had never been the greatest at controlling your temper.  

Ahsoka disabled her lightsaber, running forward and gently pushing you all apart. You felt a phantom brush over your skin and realised she had weaved threads of the Force between everyone, “Hey, hey, let’s all just take a moment to breathe, okay? We’re all worried and wound up… Yelling at each other isn’t going to solve anything.” 

Mayfeld muttered something you didn’t hear, though you did hear the thump as Cara elbowed him in the ribs. “Enough.” 

You powered down the saber and dropped your head into your hands. 

The world had flipped on its head, completely and utterly shifted and turned into something unrecognisable. Maybe this wasn’t really happening, maybe you were having some kind of fever dream. 

You sighed long and deep, rubbing at your eyes before looking at Mayfeld and Cara, “I’m sorry, for what I said. You did the right thing… We wouldn’t know anything if you hadn’t come back.” You shifted your gaze solely to Mayfeld now, “And I’m sorry for holding a knife to your throat.” 

To your surprise, he just chuckled, shaking his head, “Don’t worry. I’ve had worse from your Mandalorian, this was nothing.” He held out a hand, “Migs Mayfeld.” 

You found yourself smiling back, sliding your hand into his and shaking it as you told him your name. 

Cara looked around, “As much as I’m glad we’re not threatening to kill each other anymore, does anyone want to tell me how we’re going to find Mando?”

As if by coincidence, the comms device on your wrist started to emit a high-pitched beep. 

All four of you jumped, then looked at the device which had begun to flash red. 

You held it up between you all, and the screen lit up, displaying a string of co-ordinates with that same persistent beep. 

It dawned on you instantly, “It’s a distress signal. Lori sent us the co-ordinates of where he is.” 

Cara was eyeing it thoughtfully, “Do we want to ask why that suddenly came up, just as I asked where he was? And what if he isn’t there by the time we get there?” 

You were already moving back toward the camp to gather your things, “I don’t care. I don’t care if it’s a trap, or if he’s a whole parsec over. It’s the best thing we have, so we’re using it. Get your things.”

~

That had been a couple of nights ago. You were now travelling on Boba Fett’s ship, a tight squeeze but you didn’t care. Nothing else mattered apart from finding Din. 

Boba Fett was an interesting man. He was a clone of the infamous Jango Fett, the Mandalorian of whom you’d grown up hearing about. His armour was older, less sleek than Din’s but still as ruggedly beautiful and had belonged to Jango himself. He was shadowed by another woman, Fennec Shand – an assassin of whom you’d also heard of on your ‘travels’. 

He was a straightforward, direct man, greeting you and praising you on the stories he had heard – then asking how everything was going to go ahead. Straight to business. 

Two hours later, a plan had already been created.

The distress signal coordinates you had given Boba would take you to the general area you needed to be. Then, once you located the Cruiser, Boba would get you as close as he could, slipping into a disused landing bay. 

He would remain with the ship and kids, waiting to get out – and to lead a distraction if it came to it. 

The rest of you would infiltrate the Cruiser, splitting up to cover more ground and find Din – Cara and Fennec in one pair, you, Mayfeld and Ahsoka in the other. 

You sat a little way away from the others – as far as you could in the ship, letting the sound of their planning wash over you. They were determined the best way to get in and out without being seen, whether it was best to go in all guns blazing – literally – or try and be as discreet as possible with minimal causalities. 

You were glad you had excused yourself… because that dark assassin within you was stirring, sensing the oncoming fight – readying a thirst for blood. 

Sure, some of the Troopers may have had no choice… but they certainly hadn’t done anything to change their fate. They still chosen to continue following Gideon and Haran – for you knew now it was him that shot down Din, but you had kept that nugget of information to yourself, only telling Ahsoka. 

The others didn’t need the added stress of knowing a terrifying legend had truly come to life. 

If they wanted to try and preserve life – fine. You certainly didn’t have to agree with them. You didn’t answer rot anyone but yourself. 

And you supposed that mindset should worry you, making you concerned that you were slipping back to that cold killer but… you didn’t care. If you had to become her to save Din and get everyone out safely… so be it. You would deal with the consequences later. 

Ahsoka crossed your field of vision, and then came to sit down opposite you, her back against the wall and her legs stretched out next to yours. She said nothing, merely watching you with an unreadable expression for a few moments. 

You sighed, “If you’ve come to tell me not to go where my thoughts are leading me-“

She shook her head, cutting you off gently, “I’m not going to tell you what you should and shouldn’t do. I’m just going to ask you… Are you prepared for the consequences of what you do, either way? If you choose to go down the path of tearing down anyone in your way… How will you feel afterward?” 

How would you feel afterward?

“I don’t know how I would feel… I know what it’s like to be pushed into a life but… There’s always a choice at some point. However small…” You looked up at her, truly valuing her opinions and advice – she was already a trusted friend, one you could speak your mind to. 

Of course, you had Din. But to have something sperate from him… it felt good. Healthy. You both had your separate friendships away from each other… for moments like this perhaps. 

“I can’t think of anything but saving him. And it’s easy to sit here and ask myself what I’ll do, before we’re even there… but when I’m in there, when I’m walking through that Cruiser to find him...” You shrugged slightly, “I don’t know what I’ll do. And I might not have the time to make that decision when I’m there.”

Ahsoka nodded slowly, listening to what you have to say, “Then whatever happens… We’ll deal with it afterward. Whatever you choose to do... I believe you are strong enough to take it. And if not… then we’ll deal with that too.” 

Gratitude warmed the cold feeling in your chest, spreading through you and you looked at her with new appreciation, “Thank you…” Those two words were heartfelt, all the emotion and thankfulness pumped into there. “For this, helping me… and for everything you’ve done.”

She inclined her head slightly, bumping her foot against your thigh, “You needn’t thank me… It’s been an honour, to help you and train you. After everything that’s happened in my life, the mistrust I had for those I once believed in… I never thought I could get over that hole. But you’ve shown me that it’s not all the way I believed. Things are changing… I’m learning that now. So… thank you.” 

You were about to answer, but Boba’s deep, gravelly voice came from the cockpit, “Time to gear up guys. We’re about to hit the same co-ordinates from the distress signal.” 

~~~~

~~

“Sir?” 

Moff Gideon walked over to the young man who had just called for him, seating in front of a holo-screen like the others dotted about the room, “Yes? What is it?” 

The man brought up a radar screen, a pulsing red dot just coming into the edge of it, “They’re getting closer. They followed the Hunter’s trap.” 

Gideon smiled slowly, watching that little red dot slowly creep closer to the centre of the radar, toward his Cruiser, “Excellent. Tell the troops to be ready. Just because we want them here, doesn’t mean we’ll make this easy for them.”

~~~

~~

Boba Fett’s ship glided through the atmosphere, all of you peering out of the windows for any sign, any hint as to where Din might be. 

You’d been in the general location for about twenty-five minutes, travelling right to the edge of each grid square on Fett’s radar. 

“I think… we might have missed him.” Cara spoke the words that you had all been reluctant to acknowledge, her voice quiet. 

You shook your head fiercely, moving to the other side of the ship, “No. You’re wrong. He’s here. I know he is. I just… know.”  

Grogu cooed from behind you, his ears floppy like they had been since you lost contact with Din.

You turned to look at him, heart breaking at the utter sadness in his glossy eyes, “Oh, Gu… I know.” You scooped him up, cradling the little body to your chest and you pressed a kiss between his ears, “We’ll find him… I promise you; we’ll find him.” You pressed your face to his little head, whispering, “Even if we have to do it on our own.” 

His little arms reached up to your shoulders, and you took a few moments just to hug him, giving him comfort but also receiving it in return. 

You felt his hands tugging at your collar and wondered if he was trying to reach for your hair… but then he grasped something and pulled – your necklace. 

The mythosaur necklace that Din had given you. 

You looked down at him, watching as he cradled the symbol in his tiny little hands, gurgling at it but for once, you weren’t sure what he was saying. It itched at you, like you could almost understand him. 

It turns out, Ahsoka did. She gasped a little, looking at Grogu suddenly and blinking in surprise, “Oh, you’re right. I can’t believe I didn’t even think of that…” She looked at you with wide eyes, “You can find him.”

You blinked at her, raising an eyebrow, “What do you mean?” You felt Grogu’s eyes on you too, and he tugged gently at the mythosaur charm, “The necklace?”

Ahsoka nodded, “Kind of… You have such a strong connection with him, such intense care for each other that if you use your power… you might be able to sense him, where he is.” She walked closer, “It’s hard to explain… it’s an old Jedi trick. They used to use it to track others or find people in hiding. It’s difficult to do, and not all Jedi could do it but… You know him. Better than any of us.” She took Grogu from you gently, “Close your eyes and focus your mind the way we practiced.”

You nodded, not questioning it. There was no time. 

You shut your eyes, following the breathing exercises she had taught you and dropping everything away from your mind. The ship, the murmuring of the others – the panic. 

All of it fell away until you felt the power flowing through your blood, felt it brush up against every living thing in your vicinity. 

Ahsoka’s voice slipped through your mind, “Now, think of him. The memories, the way he makes you feel, the happiness you feel with him. Think about what makes him your Mandalorian.”

Your power flowed through you, out of you, wrapping around the ship and you were already deep in your mind by the time it started shifting the direction you were facing. 

What makes him your Mandalorian…

You let that question move through you, thinking of his touch, his voice… the way he softened the harsh edges of your mind and eased your chest.

The way you had truly come alive after meeting him, how you saw the galaxy as you had before – something beautiful and wild and begging to be explored. 

You breathed in and out slowly, musing on the way you felt you had also brought light to Din’s life. Not just from the way he told you... but the way he seemed to have mellowed even more since first knowing you. 

He laughed more, let himself go a little… His moments of uptight, rigid restraint had melted into something far softer and… goofier. 

Ahsoka’s gentle praise whispered through the thoughts and memories, encouraging you. For however long, you didn’t know. 

And then you felt it. 

Your power brushed over something… someone. 

Din. 

His essence, his soul, burning like a bright star in your longest night. A sense of comfort, fierce loyalty and determination, all encased in a glittering shell of honour. 

Your eyes snapped up, the ship slowing to a stop and then – there it was. 

Moff Gideon’s cruiser. 

And speeding toward you… about thirty Stormtroopers, ready to attack. 

Mayfeld grinned from behind you as Duru leapt from the control panel, “Time to make an entrance.” 

~~~

~~

When Din got out of here, he was going to tear Haran into little pieces. 

Well.

He would help you tear him into little pieces. 

You had probably more rights than anyone to do so, but he had some things that the cocky shit needed to pay for. 

Hey, maybe you could tag team. 

Din kept thinking of creative ways to take Haran apart, to see if he was as strong inside as the power he oozed on the outside. It would be a fascinating project. 

Maybe when you cut him open, he would be a hollow shell, or maybe there would be some kind of malevolent demon inside him. 

He supposed these thoughts were rather twisted and dark, and that Haran had undoubtedly been through some awful things in his life… but so had you, and you were worlds apart from each other. 

Besides, it was all he could do. Think of Haran’s death and try to avoid thinking of the alternative thing that was screaming at him like a siren. 

That you may very well be on your way to rescuing him. 

Din could tell himself for hours that you wouldn’t heed it, that you’d know it was a trap but… it just wasn’t you. 

You were one of the smartest people he knew, but if anyone you loved was in danger, caution tended to get thrown out the window. 

Sometimes, you were both more alike than you realised. 

Din sighed, curling his fingers into fists and then releasing them again. A few hours ago – or maybe days? – he’d lost feeling in his arm. He couldn’t pop the dislocated shoulder back into place without removing his armour, so it was stuck there, swollen and pressing against the beskar. It had started with pins and needles, and then a cold feeling like ice in his veins. 

It made him feel unsteady, lopsided – though that may have been the broken right leg and twisted left ankle. 

Not only that, but every movement of his head made his stomach roil dangerously, and his breathing seemed to be coming laboured… more like sharp pants rather than deep breaths. 

You were never going to let him live this down. 

He huffed again, but the faintest smile rose to his lips as he imagined you both somewhere safe. 

You’d wait long enough for Din to be suitably healed before tearing into him… and no doubt it would creep up for months afterwards. He could almost hear the cocky tone as you bickered about something and you’d whip that out, “Oh, well, I suppose I could always go an attack an Imp base and get shot of the sky. Stars above, can you imagine doing that? What fun.” 

The thought made him chuckle, just a bit even though it irritated his ribs again. 

Of course, that soft sound seemed like a siren call and seconds later, the door to his cell swung open and the King of Shadows and Death appeared – more like King of Arrogance and a limited wardrobe. 

Didn’t he have anything else to wear besides that cloak?

Or was Din just jealous? His own cape was a bit tattered, and he’d always envied the way you wore your own hooded cloak, blending into the darkness and sweeping around corners like some kind of phantom. 

Maker, his concussion must be getting worse. 

Pushing that thought from his spiralling mind, Din tilted his head back to look up at Haran, “Are you lonely? Is that why you keep coming to see me?” He tilted his head, ignoring the feeling like boulders crashing against the inside of his skull and the bits of light dancing across his vision, “Or are you looking for a bit of nightly entertainment? Because I have to say, I’m hardly in the shape to do so.” 

His tongue felt so heavy his mouth. 

Haran rolled those unsettling eyes as the door closed behind him and he walked over, leaning against the wall opposite, “Yes, Mando. My days are just so meaningless without your shiny head to light the way.” He put a gloved hand to his chest, gasping, “Why, if we weren’t on an Imperial Cruiser, I might just drop to one knee and beg for your hand in marriage, right now.” 

Prick. 

Din turned his head away, breathing shallow as his stomach flipped again, “What do you want? If you hadn’t noticed, I’m a rather busy man.”

Haran chose to ignore him, snapping his fingers together and pulling a face like he just remembered something, “Oh, wait. I can’t marry you, can I?” He looked up at Mando, golden eyes burning through the side of his helmet, “Because you already have plans to do that to someone else, don’t you? 

Din willed himself not to rise to the challenge, not to take the bait. He instead tried counting his breaths, focusing on anything but Haran’s silken words. 

They flowed like water around the small cell, almost irresistible, “Does she know? Does your little princess know that you’ve been carrying that ring around for months now?” He crossed one ankle over the other, “I have to admit, it is a stunner. How much did you have to save for a rock like that?” 

Anger hissed through him, but Din closed his eyes. 

Many jobs. He had saved the credits from… more jobs than he could remember. 

He would bring home most of the credits but would siphon off just a little from the top to add it to the tiny stash he had going. He knew he wouldn’t be able to get a ring with a huge stone like others he’d seen but… he had a feeling that you would love it regardless – at least he hoped. The ring had sat nestled in an inner pocket of his tight underlayer of clothing for a while now, and he could still feel it’s hard press into his skin. Thankfully it hadn’t been crushed in the fall. 

It was new to him. Not just the fact he had reached this point in his life, but the fact he was looking for an engagement ring. 

Mandalorian’s traditionally gave weapons instead but… you weren’t a Mandalorian. And the pair of you… this was different. And he wanted to do it right. 

You had taken on board so much of his traditions and rules… he wanted to do this for you. Do something in a way that you would be familiar with. 

Of course, there was one other major thing that was different – 

“Have you even revealed your face? How do you know she’ll want to marry you? I mean, she loves you now but… What if you take off your helmet and she can’t stand you?” Haran examined his gloves, his words low and almost childlike but that was the point. 

Din gritted his teeth, keeping his body loose – as much as it could be with the pain – “Seriously, are you here for a reason?”

Boom!

Suddenly, an explosion rocked the entire ship. 

It echoed down the hall, but Din could calculate it was far away, deep in the belly of the cruiser so most likely a cargo hold. 

Red lights began flashing outside of his cell, the sound of many thumping footsteps racing past. 

No… no-

Haran’s eyes unfocused and a cold, dark power brushed against Din. Even through the armour, he could feel it. The way it leeched the warmth from him, swallowed what little light was in the room. It had a pull to it, like the silken caress of his voice given life. 

Din shuddered, but Haran hadn’t noticed, instead feeling for something… someone…

His pupils dilated, black swallowing the gold and then he grinned, a cruel, delighted grin and his eyes came back into focus. He stood up, laughing, “Oh, Mando. I’m afraid your luck has run out. Your precious princess has just made her entrance.”

Bile rose up in Din’s throat and he shook his head, “No, you’re lying.” 

Din knew he wasn’t. Knew it because he felt you. Every cell in his body was crying out to leave the room, to be reunited with you. Hell, he could almost smell your achingly familiar scent. 

Haran advanced on him, crouching down and he took off his gloves, revealing a pair of slender hands – absolutely mauled with twisted, marbled scars. 

Din couldn’t stop staring at them, at the evidence of some awful injury – fire, by the looks of it, “What are you doing?” He couldn’t move away, the pain too great and the room spinning. Horror flooded his senses – horror and relief. 

He felt sick at the relief, because the last thing he wanted was you near any of these people, but at the same time… you were coming to rescue him. 

He wasn’t going to die in here – 

That power brushed against him again, slipping through the cracks in his armour and seeking out the injuries as Haran said softly, “The game is beginning.” 

~~~

~~

So, your idea to enter the ship discreetly… maybe hadn’t gone entirely to plan. 

In all honesty though, it wasn’t your fault that you’d been attacked. 

And it wasn’t your fault that the only evasive maneuverer that they wouldn’t be expecting was to lead them on a wild goose chase around the ship and then…. Crash into the cargo hold. 

Okay, so Boba had been going for a gentle landing, but the situation had required some fast thinking and strategy and so… there you were. 

Maybe it hadn’t been what you’d decided upon but… you had to admit, the explosion provided excellent cover for your teams to slip in. 

Amongst the chaos, you weaved around the edges of the cargo ship and you were through into a service passageway, watching Cara and Fennec disappear down a hallway opposite. 

~

The cruiser was like a maze. 

You had no idea how long you had been navigating the halls, but you knew it was long enough. 

Already, you had encountered a few Troopers, but they were silenced before they could raise the alarm – and stuffed into nearby rooms so they would be delayed when they awoke. 

Mayfeld kept pace easily with you and Ahsoka, as you sent out waves of power to sweep the area, “They most likely have him in the cells. But if they know we’re coming… They would have moved him. 

Somewhere more central, where we have no choice but to be in the open and vulnerable to attack. So, we should head toward the front of the ship, maybe.” He kept his voice hushed and his blaster aimed. 

Ahsoka peered over her shoulder at him, raising her eyebrows, “Tell me again where you came from?” She had her other saber in her hand, held in her trademark grip as she moved like a shadow. 

Mayfeld chuckled low, “Impressed?” 

Seriously?

Ahsoka rolled her eyes, looking ahead again, “Please, don’t flatter yourself.” She shook her head, pausing and raising a hand for you all to stop too. 

You pushed your power around the corner as well, combining with hers and you felt it. 

A cluster of Stormtroopers gathered near a service room. They were standing between you and the next hallway and would need to be removed. 

Focusing, you did a rough tally, “Nine of them. All armed.” You worked it through in your mind. You could take them – but there was still enough time for them to raise the alarm. Especially if they were near service rooms, they’d be able to signal to others and you would soon be ambushed. 

Even without power, Mayfeld appeared to have done the same, “We need to draw them away, get them somewhere quiet.” He looked back the way you came, then to the right where there was a dead end. 

Ahsoka sighed, shaking her head, “How? Any noise will alert the others. We need to - ” She broke off, having just seen what you were doing. “Where are you going?” 

You had moved away from the safety of the wall, drawing the hood of your cloak up over your face. “You and Mayfeld get ahead, see if you can find a map or something in one of those rooms.” 

Something dark thrummed in your blood, your palms itching with an intense need to… to make someone hurt. 

Mayfeld rose an eyebrow, facing you as he kept his back against the wall, “Are you crazy? They want you as much as you want Mando! You can’t just walk out there like a party gift.” 

A party gift that’ll explode in their faces. 

Stars above, the very thought almost made you laugh with an unnaturally shadowed delight. 

You indeed chuckled, rolling your eyes, “Exactly. What Stormtrooper grunt would pass up the opportunity to deliver Moff Gideon the very thing he’s doing all of this for? They’ll take me straight to him or throw me somewhere to wait. Either way, it gets them away from you.” 

Ahsoka was watching you, her eyebrows furrowed slightly. She didn’t agree with this anymore than Mayfield, but she too knew there was no other way. “Okay.” She ignored Mayfeld’s noise of protest, “Be careful. Try not to draw too much attention if you can help it. We’ll find anything we can and if you’re not back out here, then circle back to find you.” She was still watching you with that strange look – like she could sense something off. 

You gave her a playful salute before pulling out another knife from your boot, rolling your shoulders and strutting around the corner. 

Instantly, the group of Troopers turned around, guns raising as they beheld your cloaked appearance, and the shining lightsaber in your hand, “Hey! Stand down!” 

You dropped the hood, grinning wickedly as you purred, “Hello, boys.” 

~

You moved like a flame, tearing through the group of Stormtroopers and spreading your embers of death, ready to turn into a blaze. 

The whir of the lightsaber was the conductor of your dance, providing a beat as your separated limb from limb. The deadly energy whipped through the air, severing one of the Troopers hands from his wrist and he went down screaming, clutching at the stub at the end of his arm which was smouldering. You didn’t hesitate, whirling and flinging a sharp, deadly knife from your hand. 

There was a muffled, wet noise impact as it lodged itself in his throat, buried in the gap between the chest plates and helmet. 

You didn’t know if Ahsoka and Mayfield were close, if they’d found a map – you didn’t care. 

These men, these followers were standing between you and Din. Maybe they had been forced into it, but as you had said before. They made the choice to stay. 

A yell sounded from behind you and a sharp blow to the middle of your back had you stumbling, the air knocked from your lungs. 

You sucked in a sharp breath but before you could turn, the back of a blaster smashed your skull and you tumbled to the floor, fighting through the wave of nausea and the stars in your vision. The lightsaber was flung from your grip, skittering across the floor. 

A somewhat altered voice hissed against your ears, a knee pressing to your spine, “You think you can waltz in here and take us all down? I don’t care what the boss says.” The muzzle of his blaster now jammed against the back of your skull, forcing your forehead to press against the icy, metallic floor and you bit your lip with the impact, “You are vermin. A monster. People like you shouldn’t exist.” 

The dark creature within you snarled, and you spread your fingers of your free hand, the other caught up underneath you, “Didn’t your boss tell you?” 

You heard him cock his head, “Tell me, what?” He dug his blaster in harder, right against the base of your skull. 

A wicked grin spread your lips, causing them to split further but quite frankly, you didn’t care. The pain only aided in the focus, the hot blood nothing as it ran down your chin, “Watch the hands.” You lifted it from the floor, wrapping the Force around his throat and you gave him only a second to realise what was happening, before curling your hand into a fist and crushing his windpipe. 

He choked, hands flying up to his throat but then he was instantly gone, slumping forward over you in a heavy tangle of limbs. 

You groaned, shifting his body off of you, “Get off of me.” You muttered it uselessly, scrambling up and you scooped up the lightsaber, before turning to survey the hallway. 

Footsteps resounded from both ends of the hallway, and you lowered into a battle stance, adrenaline still humming through your veins and numbing everything else, everything but the fight and the goal – Din.  Along with the cool ice of battle… something heavy and alluring whispered to you, as black as night and hungry for more death. 

White armour burst into your left peripheral and you whirled toward it, flinging a hand forward and then back. 

The Stormtrooper was dragged off his feet, again trapped with the invisible pressure around his throat as he ground to a halt, legs swinging forward with the remaining force of him flying at you. 

He snarled, scrambling at his throat, “You can’t do this. You won’t beat him, no matter what you believe.” 

You rolled your eyes, letting your head fall back with a groan, “When they make you, do they implant some kind of need for all the dramatic bullshit? Honestly, whoever the first one of you was, he must have been an incredible bore.” 

The Trooper thrashed about uselessly, his weapon falling to the floor and you sensed the glare through the black visor, “At least we have hearts. And maybe we’re all the same, but we’re more human than you are.” 

Monster. 

Ah, back to this, yet again. 

Always back to this. 

Your smile was angelic, your appearance anything but. 

Long cloak hanging from your shoulders, battle suit fitted and black as coal. Your boots were stained red, the blood looking like ink on the dark leather. 

As for your face, you sported a wicked bruise to your cheekbone, a long cut across your forehead and with the blood dripping down your chin, the wild fury in your eyes… You probably looked every bit the monster they said you were. 

And you couldn’t care. 

“You think I haven’t heard this one before? How I have no humanity, no soul… I’m an abomination that shouldn’t deserve to live, blah blah blah.” You shook your head, something deadly and shadowed twisting through your blood, humming in dark delight at what you were doing, the devastation you were feeding it. 

There was a name for it. 

You knew what it was, the siren call to step over the line that you were only too pleased to answer. 

You’d deal with that later.

The Stormtrooper choked as you tightened the hold on him, obviously about to speak but then his head jerked, focusing over your shoulder. 

The other footsteps – a pair. One heavy, one light and nimble. 

Mayfeld, and Ahsoka. 

You didn’t bother turning around as you heard them skid to a stop, Mayfeld sucking in a breath at the sight around you. 

The fallen bodies of the Troopers, broken about and still smouldering, the blood coating the walls and the floor, the edge of your cloak trailing in it. The stench of death and the smell of molten plastic. 

Mayfeld whistled low, “Fucking hell…” 

You ignored them, focused on your prey, tightening that leash bit by bit. 

It was like the very air around you was alive, more frantic than normal. Your power flared, tasting the death in the atmosphere, slipping through the ship like a poison and marking where each target was. Every single obstacle between you and your love. 

You could feel their living souls, see them in your mind like glowing stars in the sky. You knew that if you went for them, you could close your eyes and still take them down as quickly and skilfully as if your eyes were open. 

Is this how Haran was so good at killing? So skilled at finding people? 

Without the distraction of sight and sound, you needn’t worry about the expressions on people’s faces, the noises they made as they died. 

With your eyes shut, using this glittering map in your mind… they were merely lights to snuff out. 

“If you follow this path… No one will be able to help you. You will have to make the choice whether to stay on it, or to fight your way out.” Ahsoka’s voice was a soft breeze in the night of your mind, softly lit in the same white as her sabers, of which one you held in your hand. 

A symbol of strength… which you had used to destroy lives. 

Your eyes opened slowly, gazing up at the Stormtrooper ahead of you. 

A choice. 

Seconds ticked by, seconds you knew were slipping away on the clock of Din’s life as you made up your mind. 

The Trooper fell to the bloody floor and your voice was demanding, no room for argument, “Take us to your little master. I except he’ll be waiting.”

~~~

~~

Booted footsteps rang out on the cold metal hallways. 

The King of Shadows and Death could move like a whisper on the wind, as if the air itself parted around him and kept him silent. 

But this time, he wanted to be heard. 

He wanted the Mandalorian to know that his hope had been in vain. 

He merely looked at the guards standing either side of the door and they nodded, one scanning the chip that would trigger the heavy locks in the door. 

It swung open and Haran crossed the threshold, gazing down at the broken Mandalorian, slumped on his cot. He grinned, cocking his head, “Time’s up, Mando. Your saviour has come to rescue you from the enemy walls. Looks like you don’t know her as well as you thought.” 

The Mandalorian growled, dried blood like rust on his beskar, “If you think you’ll walk out of this unharmed, you obviously don’t know her like you think you do.” 

The last time Haran came to see him, he had healed his injuries just enough that Mando wasn’t permanently dancing the line between being awake and being unconscious. He did nothing to remove the pain, or the severity of them, but he had prevented infection. He’d also healed his legs to the point where he could walk – barely. 

What good was a knight who fell before the Queen could finish the game? 

Haran walked over to him, hauling him to his feet. The Mandalorian was the same height as him, so he gauged he was looking right into Mando’s eyes when he whispered, “I think I know her a lot better than you think. I can tell you that she would not have come here peacefully. And she would not have let go the people that stood in her path.” 

Mando shook his head, trying to pull away from him but he was unsteady on his feet, the blood rushing from his head, “No. You’re wrong. She won’t listen to that call, to the... Dark Side or whatever it is. She’s walked that line before, and she’ll make the right decision again.” 

Haran chuckled low, half dragging the beskar-clad knight out of the door, “Oh, I don’t doubt that she’ll make the right decision. But whether or not it’s right depends on which side you’re standing on.” 

The Mandalorian groaned, hating that he couldn’t pull away from Haran, hated the weakness of his body, the unsteady, lurching footsteps of his still fractured legs and the armour that weighed down on his broken bones. “Why are you doing this? Why are you so obsessed with corrupting her? You’ve been living your sick little life for… however long it is now. Surely there’s some other person to terrorize?” 

Haran scoffed, rolling his amber eyes, “You really need to get it through that thick skull of yours – I’m not corrupting her. I’m merely bringing back someone she’s tried to bury.” He looked over at Mando, raising his eyebrows, “Has she told you? About the time she had no code of honour, of mercy?”

The man beside him snarled, his leg giving way for a moment as agony rippled up his hip, his bones screaming, “What the fuck are you talking about now?” 

It was easy to hold him up, despite the weight of his beskar and they walked down the imposing hallways, three Stormtroopers flanking them – whether it was to stop Mando trying something, or stop Haran having his fun, he didn’t know. Or care. 

“There was a time, little hunter, where your precious princess slaughtered anyone who dared stand in her way. She was broken, hungry for vengeance and only to eager to have her fill.”

Mando was quiet for a moment, the heavy scuff-drag of his boots the only sound to be heard – one he probably hated as he moved nearly as silently as Haran did. 

Something like triumph flickered over Haran’s face at his silence, “You truly didn’t know? Oh dear… There’s a lot she hasn’t told you, Lori. Things I’ve seen in her head that I doubt even she remembers she did.” He guided them around toward the corner, to where it would all come to a head. 

And to where his power was tugging him, whispering to him of the state the next hallway had been left in. 

The Mandalorian pushed away from him, summoning some kind of inner reserve of strength. He stopped, the guards pausing behind him and shifting their weapons as a warning. He looked at Haran, the harsh lighting bouncing off his beskar, revealing nothing of the man beneath and Haran wondered if he had revealed his face yet. 

“You seem to think telling me these things will bother me or make me look at her differently. Whatever she’s done, whatever terrible things she’s committed… it doesn’t change the fact that I love her.” He stepped forward, ignoring the guards as they moved too, “I’ll tell you something, Shadow man. There is a light that burns within her, a fire that could rival the very stars up there.” He pointed to the ceiling, “And no ounce of darkness, be it her own past or your own twisted powers, will ever snuff it out.” 

He moved that finger to jab Haran’s chest. “You tried to dump her at the bottom of a lake, and she came out burning brighter than before. So carry on, tell me all these horror stories to try and scare me away.” He shrugged, the rough baritone of his voice steady, ringing with loyalty and truth – and threat, “All you’re doing is making me love her even more.” 

Golden eyes flicked between the visor, assessing. Plotting. 

Then Haran smiled, a sinister, deadly smile as he inclined his head, “I don’t doubt for a second everything you said is true.” He brought his hands together behind his back, resuming the walk and he used his power to push the Mandalorian along. “I believe that you’re willing to throw down the gauntlet to protect her honour every single time someone threatens it. But I wonder… All you’ve heard is stories.” 

He walked around the corner and stopped yet again, his dark power dragging Mando to his side. “What will you do when faced with the truth first-hand?” 

The hallway was carnage. 

A bloody battlefield. 

Multiple bodies littered the stark floors, bright red blood sprayed all along the walls – even the ceiling. The once white armour of the Troopers was stained with the stuff, their bodies bent at unnatural angles, as if a strong power had taken hold of their limbs and yanked them in all the wrong directions until bones shattered and muscles tore. 

The Mandalorian looked upon the scene, the blood coating the tips of his boots. 

A dismembered hand lay just a few feet away and the severed wrist, the tendons hanging out of it... all singed. As if cleaved from the body by something white-hot and burning. 

A lightsaber. 

Which would explain why the hard shell-like armour of the fallen Troopers were marked with black holes and marks, the stench of melting plastic mingling with the reek of burnt bodies and blood. 

This was the work of someone with deadly skill, usually so precise… pushed to the edge, to this. 

Oh, it wasn’t mindless, not by any means. 

It was clearly thought out… maybe even savoured. 

Haran breathed in the smell like he was standing in a field of flowers, “Well. I have to say, I’m impressed. This looks like something I’d leave behind.” He walked through the mess of shredded bodies, a phantom wind lifting the edge of his cloak so it didn’t drag in the blood, “These poor soldiers never had the chance.” He crouched down, pushing the helmet of one Trooper – resulting in the head rolling a few inches away from his body. 

He looked at the Mandalorian, raising an eyebrow as the fluorescent lighting brought out his scars, “Still singing her praises?” 

The Mandalorian was silent, hands clenched at his sides but then he moved, not away from the scene, but toward it. 

Through it. 

Through the blood and flesh until he was standing right in front of Haran, feet splashing to a stop in the scarlet river, “Always.”

~~~

~~

Moff Gideon was waiting for you as you were escorted into a large, open chamber.

He stood there, hands clasped behind his back, with a young girl at his side – presumably his second in command.  There was a sick expression of glee on his face, dark eyes glittering with what he presumed was triumph. 

Next to him, stood Haran, clad in black as always, with that embroidered cloak holding – 

Din. 

Oh, the sight of your Mandalorian threatened to bring you to your knees as you were stopped a few metres away. 

You couldn’t see his body – obviously – but you knew simply from the way he held himself, that he was terrible injured. 

He seemed to be bearing his weight to one side, slumped over even as he stood, and you could hear is laboured breathing from here. 

Oh Din, what happened to you…

You had to admit, a small part of you wondered if there would be anything left of him when you arrived. Not from the possibility of torture, but simply from that terrible fall. 

The thought of tumbling all that way down to the ground, encased in a rock-solid metal shell… You couldn’t even fathom it. 

And yet, there Din was, still alive after something that should have killed him. 

Clearly, the Maker had plans for him. 

Gideon cleared his throat, watching the Trooper grunt retreat to the edge of the room, “Well, well. After all my time spent hunting you… Here you are.” He cocked his head, “I thought you’d be taller.” 

You rolled your eyes, sighing, “Oh stars above, please tell me this isn’t another villain speech. I hate those.” 

Haran’s lips twitched perhaps remembering this exact same conversation from his bunker. 

You flickered your eyes to him, before looking back at Moff Gideon, who was looking at you with… a rather bored expression already. 

“I was told you were insolent and arrogant, and I can see my sources were correct. They were also correct about how to summon you here.” 

He looked over at Haran, “Though it took many years for someone’s ideas to actually bear fruit. Well done.” 

Haran bristled slightly, as if taking praise from a mere human man irritated him. 

You supposed it did. 

Gideon was nothing compared to Haran, power or not.  

“Well, I would hate to disappoint you, of course.” You shot him a sweet smile, venom in your eyes, “If you wouldn’t mind, do you think you could tell me what it is you want before I take my Mandalorian here and leave this dump.” You held up your comms watch, “I have a party in Coruscant I’m due to be at and it won’t look very good if I’m late.” 

You thought you may have heard muffled chuckles from the line of Stormtroopers assembled behind him, but you paid it no heed. 

Gideon bared his teeth at you, eyes blazing, and he brought a hand in front of him to point at Din, “Do you not realise, we have your precious bounty hunter captive? Do you not realise who is holding him?” 

You looked over at Haran, shrugging lightly, “A guy who has interesting taste in fashion?” 

Did Gideon not know about the bunker or the lake? Had Haran neglected to tell him you’d met before?

Haran revealed nothing in his expression, but there was something in his eyes… something ancient… some of betrayal? Of lies? 

Moff Gideon snarled at you, “Insolent creature. You are here because we allowed you to be. In fact, the only reason that happened, is because of the failures of the people I sent after you. Had they done their job, you would have been broken long ago. That disgusting affliction of yours burnt out of you.” 

Heat licked down your spine, and the atmosphere in the room shifted as the three Force wielders within it straightened at is words, the ugly discrimination in his words. 

Dangerous game to play, Gideon. 

You kept your breathing even, feeling the shadows prowl beneath your skin, teeth and claws still dripping with blood from the hallways, wanting more, “Have you ever wondered why you’re stuck here, chasing down women and babies?” You took a step forward, anger and pride for yourself, for Ahsoka, every Force Sensitive person both dead and alive making your voice carry strong over the empty air – even pride for Haran, in some way.  

Gideon rose an eyebrow, “Do tell.” 

“You’re stuck in the past. You believe that people like us,” You motioned to yourself, “You believe we are abominations. Freaks of nature. The Force is nature. It’s the very thing that binds us all together. There is no fear in it, no monstrosity. I don’t know why it’s so hard for you people to understand.” 

The Officer sighed, shaking his head and moving a step closer as well, “Oh, I understand that. I wasn’t referring to the others in this room. I was referring to you. You, my dear, have been sick and twisted from the very moment you were born.” 

Din pulled against Haran’s grip, growling in anger, “I’d advise you to stop speaking.” 

Haran yanked him hard, “Stay quiet.” He spat the words at Din, but you didn’t fail to notice the murderous look he shot Gideon over Din’s head, his golden eyes livid. 

A shaking had taken over your hands, so you clenched them tighter around your weapons, years of abuse playing in your mind. 

But you pushed back against it, for you were stronger now. Stronger because of it, not in spite of it. 

Gideon continued, looking upon you in disgust but there was a sick fascination here too, “You have been marked for death long before you showed your powers. You think it was coincidence that the hunter was stalking you in your miserable little village? She was there on orders.” He looked over you, “A child responsible for the deaths of her parents. You might as well have pushed the blade in your mothers flesh yourself.” 

A roaring took over your head, filling your ears with the sounds of screaming, the stench of blood and the way the light sapped from your life as your parents died. 

But… the world was different now. 

It was bright again. 

Because of Din, your friends… That’s why you were here. 

You glared at Gideon, wanting so desperately to tear out his throat with your power, your hands, or even your teeth – but now wasn’t the time. You shook your head, “You don’t win this time, Gideon. I’m afraid your sad little life will be ruled by chasing me for just a little longer.” With that, you flung your hands wide, making your power explode through the room with a battering impact. 

You felt another wave at the same time as yours, fuelling it – Ahsoka’s. 

You only just managed to keep it free from Din, though Haran had thrown up a hand milliseconds before you, as if sensing what you were going to do – and evidently creating a shield. 

Gideon and the Troopers weren’t quite so lucky. 

The Force flung him through the air, causing his head to smash harshly against a metal beam and he crumpled to the ground, limp. 

Haran spun to look at him, and it occurred to you – he should have protected him too. He was working for Gideon. Or… at least pretending to be. 

Who was really calling the shots here?

No time for that now. 

You used Haran’s distraction to throw yourself at him, activating the lightsaber and unleashing yourself on him with a strangled cry of rage. 

He startled, just a few seconds too late and he pushed Din at you in an attempt to slow you down. 

Perfect. 

Just as you planned. 

You were never really going to engage in battle with him, had never intended to attack him. 

But you knew he would use Din as a shield, thinking you were too blidned in your rage – but you proved him wrong. 

Din careened into you, stumbling against your body and you both nearly tumbled to the floor, but then Cara was there, helping you support his body as he wrapped an arm around you, “You came…” His voice was hoarse, weak with pain and exhaustion. 

The relief and love in his voice nearly brought you to the ground, “Of course I came for you, Din. I will always come for you.” You gave him a watery smile, walking toward the others, keeping one eye behind you as Haran watched. 

Why wasn’t he moving… Why wasn’t he attacking?

“I saw what you did.” Haran’s silken voice called out from behind you, making you pause in your retreat. “I know you feel it. The call to the Dark Side. And I know that you answered it.” 

That would be why. 

You slowed to a stop, forcing Din and Cara to slow too. “How do you know I answered it?” You looked straight ahead, still not turning around. 

Haran sounded as though he took a step forward, “I felt it. I felt it when you allowed the Dark to show you how to get here. You saw the lives as glowing lights, a map to saving your Mandalorian. And the mess you left in that hallway…” He trailed off meaningfully, “You needn’t fear it, darling. It’s not evil. It’s merely… a different perspective.” His voice had melted into the same one that had coaxed you into swallowing the poison, into stepping off the edge. 

Here you were, yet again. Only you weren’t standing on the precipice of a raging torrent… You were standing on the edge of the Dark Side. 

And his words had instantly awoken it, set it pining for a life to be unleashed, untamed. 

Slowly, you turned around, cringing when Din’s broken feet tumbled over each other too, so you slowly let go “A different perspective…?” You cocked your head, voice starting to sound unsure as his seductive baritone filtered through your mind, weaving around it. 

He smiled, that gorgeous, disarming smile that instantly made you lock focus on him, “Yes. Others may tell you that the dark side is evil… But it isn’t. It’s simply using that power in a different way. Using it to get the things that you deserve.”

You swallowed, feet hanging over that metaphorical edge, “You – You promise? I can’t go back to that place. I can’t be a… monster again.” Your voice trembled over the word; eyes locked on his amber ones. 

Din shook his head fiercely from your left, fighting against Cara’s hold as she pulled him away, but he was too weak, “No. Sweetheart, no. Stop listening to him, please… He’s lying to you. You don’t need this. You don’t need that darkness, princess. You’re so good, so strong… please don’t do this.” 

And then you made a decision. 

You ignored Din.

And walked toward Haran. 

Stepping off of that edge. 

Haran extended a gloved hand to you, “That’s it, darling. That’s it… Coming here doesn’t make you a monster, it just means you are claiming your birth right. This is where you belong.” 

As you reached his presence, a feeling wrapped over you, muffling Din’s voice, the sounds of the others around you. You slid your hand through his, gasping a little as you felt your shadowy beast respond to his own, felt them twine around each other, greet each other. 

“I don’t…” Uncertainty still clouded your expression, and you lingered a little, worrying you were making a fatal mistake. 

He saw this, gently drawing you closer and into the circle of his arms, “No one will die. Your Mandalorian, your friends… We will help them leave safely and then… Then we can begin.” He guided your head to his neck. 

Din’s voice, though muffled, was desperate, clawing at you, “No! Cyar'ika, you can’t. Please, I’m begging you. You don’t need to go to him, you don’t need to do this. I love you. I love you for who you are, for every single thing. I’m not afraid of you, of any single part of you.” He sobbed. 

Din sobbed, reaching for you, “Please don’t leave me alone.” 

You were glad your head was pressed to Haran’s neck, because the backs of your eyes burned, shame and guilt threatening to choke you. 

You had to do this. 

You had to do it now before you shattered completely.

You were quiet, and then just… went pliant in his arms. You raised your own to his back, winding around his lean frame and lifted your face from Haran’s neck, nuzzling your nose along his neck, “I believe you.”  

“NO!!” Din fell to his knees beside Cara, shaking his head in disbelief. “Sweetheart, please don’t do this. Please-” The way his voice broke tore through your heart, and you nearly backed out right then and there. 

But you didn’t because Din… He didn’t understand. He didn’t understand why you had to do this… 

Haran’s arms tightened around you, one coming up to cradle the back of your head, “Good girl. I always knew you would see the light.” A deliberate, ironic choice of words form the King of Shadows and Death.

Din’s sobs speared though you, each devasted noise threatening the tears building in your own throat. 

Raising on tiptoe slightly, you ran a hand down his back, the other splaying wide, ready. 

You brushed your lips along the smooth line of his skin, breathing in the smell of wind and midnight, “There’s just… There’s one little thing…” 

Haran nodded, his cheek resting against your hair, “Anything. Anything you want, it’s yours.” 

His words muffled the soft sound of an object flying into your hand as you let out a breath against the shell of his ear, whispering, “I will never be your Queen.” 

The sound of a lightsaber activating, not through air… but through flesh. 

Haran’s choke of surprise – and agony. 

You held his sagging body to yours, snarling, “That’s for the lake, you twisted asshole.” You stepped back, letting him fall to his knees, yanking free the lightsaber and savouring the gritted howl of agony as you tore back through more flesh and tendon. 

Those amber eyes of his blazed like molten gold, deadly and furious, “You don’t know the mistake you’re making. You’re throwing away your life with these fools.” 

You bared your teeth at him, raising the saber threateningly to his throat, letting it make the faintest contact, “Come after me again, and I will end you. I don’t care if you’re hundreds of yours old, or the King of Death or whatever else you call yourself. I’m not afraid of you. And I will destroy you before you can do the same to anyone else.” 

With that, you quickly turned, bolting toward your family and friends, “Now!!” 

Ahsoka flung her hands wide at the same time as you, creating a wide bubble of Force energy that blew through the space. 

Every Stormtrooper in the area was knocked flat on their back, instantly out like lights as you threw your arm around Din’s shoulders, trying to get him up as he stared at you. 

“What… I don’t…” His voice was bewildered, dazed with pain and he was heavy in your arms. 

You whimpered just slightly, desperation and anxiety creeping forward, the edge of battle slowly fading, “I’ll explain everything later, we have to go now, Lori. Please.” 

Mayfeld was suddenly there, supporting his other side and then you were all running for the cargo hold, leaving the destruction behind you. 

Even as you ran, Cara and Fennec scouting ahead, Ahsoka behind you aiding with the energy bubble and Mayfeld helping you carry Din… You couldn’t quite figure out how you had pulled this off. 

You’d done it. 

~~~

~~

Haran watched her leave, supporting the Mandalorian and hurrying away with her friends, her power combined with Tano’s to create an impenetrable shield around them all. 

Well… He would have gotten through with half a thought – perhaps a whole one – but any of the other fools in this place wouldn’t stand a chance. 

Many footsteps rushed into the room and then he felt hands on him, pushing away his own, trying to get to his wound. 

He looked down, saw a medic with their pack open by his side, flitting and fiddling. 

“Leave it.” His silken voice was hard ice, enough of a bite there to inform the medic what would happen if they didn’t leave. 

Despite the medics healing instincts, they knew the tone well, and moments later the kit was packed up and Haran was already turning away from the retreating figure. 

Strong. 

She had grown stronger far quicker than even he had expected. He knew it was within her, but he had thought the trauma ran deeper, its claws embedded into her very soul and creating a barrier every time she would try to tap into the power. 

Tano must have taught her how to master her fear, or how to get past it.

Useful, it saved him a job… but also irritating. If she was already harnessing that trauma, it would mean he could no longer use that aspect. 

Haran walked the path she had taken, out to the cargo load, the harsh wind roaring across the space as the tech’s struggled to gain control of the ship again, to remove whatever bug the girl and her friends had slipped in. 

No matter. It didn’t upturn his plans… just meant he had to work with a new angle. 

And fortunately, he had one, courtesy of the would-be Queen herself.

Haran had come across the bodies in the hallway on his way in here, saw the way they were dumped on the ground with their limbs at unnatural angles, their armour shattered from the inside out. 

And if the still smoking scorch marks all over their bodies weren’t indication enough, a sweep of his power had revealed massive internal devastation. 

Haran stood with a gloved hand pressed to the bleeding wound as he watched the steadily shrinking shape of a ship. A mere thought had the hole stitching back together as he extended his fingers out slowly. 

No one on the clean side of the Force would wreak havoc like that of the hallway, regardless of their love having been kidnapped and beaten. 

And that meant simply one thing. And one thing only.

She was being called to the Dark Side. 

And she’d heeded that call. 

Maybe only temporary, but the Dark Side was like Haran himself. Once you let it in, once you got that first taste… it never truly left. She could deny it all she wanted, trick him with it, think it was merely a reaction from the stress of saving the Mandalorian, but it had already rooted within her. 

He could feel it. 

Haran tipped his head back and laughed, his ebony curls dancing across his forehead as the wind tugged and pushed at his tall, lean frame. A lone pillar of darkness, hovering at the edge of the world. 

Previous| Next

[tilltheendwilliwrite]

Star-Crossed: Bound by Blood

Chapter Five

Master List / Read on AO3

Previous Chapter

Warnings: Canon divergent during Chapter 13 of The Mandalorian, serious pining, much angst, violence

A/N: I make this stuff up as I go along, if I screw something Star Wars-y up, apologies in advance, I didn’t do it on purpose, but I’m new to this Fandom. I will be cross posting this story between AO3 and Tumblr except the smutty bits. Those chapters will only be available to registered users on AO3. (I’m trying something new for people who want to read here on Tumblr, but to also avoid the smut for minors controversy. We’ll see how it goes.)

*I do not have a tag list* Please follow the story on AO3 if you want email updates, or follow @tilltheendwilliwrite-library where I post the new/latest chapters of all my stories.

Din watched Baast with growing concern. She'd withdrawn after Nevarro, spending the majority of her time with Grogu or in the sleeping hammock she'd strung between the walls of the Razor Crest. She refused to take his bunk, wouldn't even hear of it. When she slept - which he knew wasn't often as he could hear her prowling quietly around his ship - she did so in fits and starts and bad dreams. 

By the time they arrived at the Tribe's new home, he was genuinely worried. He didn't know enough about Zentari biology to be able to say if this was normal or not, but with how worried Grogu seemed, he was going to go with not. 

But Din couldn't focus on Baast as he navigated the high winds and icy blizzard of the Tribe's new home. The planet was damn near inhospitable, but that was why they liked it. 

This was his first visit since the massacre on Nevarro, and he was both excited to see who remained and dreading it. There had been far too many Foundling helmets in the Armourer's pile. An old outpost carved into the rock served as a place to land ships and keep them from being snowed in. Blast doors slid open, appearing to welcome him home. Mandalorians waved him forward, and he recognized the armour of Paz Vizsla.

"That kriffing bastard would live," he muttered as he maneuvered the Razor Crest around and set it down. The blast doors were already closing, not that those who worked on their ships appeared to care either way. 

Descending into the belly of his ship, he found Baast growling at her hair and tsked when he snaked the comb from her fingers. "You're making matters worse," he huffed, quickly separating the tangle. He twisted the mass into a long tail, then wrapped it into a knot at the base of her skull, where he tucked two long sticks he'd picked up in the market on Nevarro. They were made of hardened steel, sharpened to a deadly point, and would make a handy weapon if she ever needed one. She kept her eyes down and didn't look at him when he helped her into her cloak. 

While they'd been on Nevarro, he'd been careful to pick out clothing she could layer for cold weather rather than buying winter gear. He had no desire to lead the Tribe's enemies to them again and made damn sure they weren't followed. The one thing he couldn't avoid buying were boots, but Dune came through on that one. 

After Baast damn near killed her, they spent a mostly pleasant few hours with Dune while she'd cooed over Grogu and listened intently as Din told of his run-in with the Jedi. They said nothing of Baast's origins and wouldn't. What Cara didn't know couldn't get her killed. Of course, the ex-shock trooper would attempt to kick his ass if he said that out loud, so Din hadn't, remaining silent as Dune fumed for being "out of the loop."

Before he drew up Baast's hood, he lifted her chin with gloved fingers. "Baast, everything will be alright."

She gave him a wane smile, her vibrant eyes too dull for his liking. "As you say, Mando."

He gritted his teeth. That, too, had changed. She no longer called him by his name when they were alone. He was back to Mando. It was the first time in his life that he hated hearing anyone utter that word. 

"Baast, we need to talk-" He cut himself off when loud pounding came at the ramp and flipped her hood over her head. "We're not finished," he warned, determined to get to the bottom of whatever was going on with her. 

She picked Grogu up but said nothing. There was no defiance, no strength, no beskar spine left to her. 

He clenched his fists and headed for the ramp, where he punched the release with more exuberance than was needed. It lowered to reveal Paz and another, weapons trained on the doorway. 

"Nice greeting," Din grumbled.

"You've too many bodies on your ship."

He held out his hand, and Baast joined him, her hand sliding up his arm to his elbow. "We seek the Alor."

Weapons slowly lowered, but he could tell they remained suspicious.

"This way." Paz turned and headed across the hanger. 

Din didn't bother to hurry. Paz would wait because they'd piqued his curiosity. He would remain once they reached the Alor to see just what Din was up to. Suspicion followed them like a red wave as they made their way through the rock corridors. The deeper they went, the warmer the air grew, indicating the Tribe had found lava flow or hot springs heated the base.

It was good, secure. Hopefully, they could remain here for some time.

Paz stopped at an open doorway and indicated inside. "Leave the child with the other Foundlings."

"Nu draar," Baast growled, her stance defensive as she rolled onto the balls of her feet. 

"He will be safe and happy with the others," Din encouraged. Looking inside, his heart plummeted. Where once there were thirty or more Foundlings, now fewer than fifteen remained. "Is this all?"

"Sabine has the older ones. They train." 

"This is The Way," Din murmured. 

"This is The Way," Paz agreed. "Leave the child."

Baast hissed at him, and Din stepped between them before things escalated. Already he could tell Paz wasn't impressed.

"Baast, udesii," he murmured, laying his hands over hers on Grogu. "He will be safe and far happier with the Foundlings. No one will touch him, I swear it."

She held onto him as if her very life resided in the little green menace, and leaving him behind was allowing a part of herself to be torn apart, but with gentle coaxing, he managed to remove Grogu from her hands and set him down to join the others children. Grogu cooed happily and toddled off to play while Din urged Baast onward after Paz. 

The giant warrior peered at Baast for a long moment before continuing away from the Foundling Nursery. 

Finally, after more twists and turns and stares from other Mandalorians, they arrived at the Foundry where the Alor waited in her golden helmet. She didn't bother to look up as she worked on polishing a pauldron. 

"You dare to bring an aruetyc here?"

At any other time, he might have flinched at such a reprimand coming from her, but not this time. "She is not an outsider. She is Baast'mal, last of the Zentari."

The pauldron slipped and clanged against the forge before she caught it and set it carefully aside. "The Zentari are no more."

"She knows The Way," Din insisted. "We completed the greeting."

The Alor turned then to face them as Baast pushed back her hood. The sharp intake of breath Paz took did not escape him. 

"I am Baast'mal, daughter of Sengor'du and Lin'talia of Zentarus." She tilted her head. "Great Alor, I greet thee. Holder of the Creed, blessed of the constellations. May you raise warriors strong in the Way and find your riduur. Your cyar'ika. Your ka'rta." 

Din had never seen the Armourer show surprise in her body language before. "I greet thee, Zentari of the Bright Star, though it saddens me to learn you are the last. Can you be certain of this?"

"I felt the only other of my kind die three years past," Baast murmured. 

The Alor bowed her head. “Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la.” 

Din knew how she felt. It was like a gut punch without warning to know they'd lost something so damn special. 

"Be welcome, Baast'mal. Perhaps among our Tribe, you will find the one you seek." 

Baast said nothing, looking away as if in shame, and Din reached for her elbow before remembering they were no longer alone on his ship where he could take such liberties. Now, she would be courted by every able-bodied male of the Tribe to see if they proved worthy to be her riduur.

"Leave us," the Alor commanded. 

Din hesitated, but when Baast didn't look at him, he stepped back and walked away.

***

"Shut the door, Vizsla," she commanded as the big one followed Din out.

Used to Din's t-shaped visor, the Alor's eye slits were almost disconcerting, but Baast didn't allow it to show.

"You are of a great lineage, Baast'mal, daughter of Sengor'du. The Tribe will see this as a great omen, a reason to rejoice when we have so little."

"Not so great," Baast sighed. "I cannot be what I was born to be. I am no riduur. My fated mate will never complete the bond."

She tilted her head. "Oh?" Then motioned toward a table next to the forge. "Sit. Tell me your story, Baast'mal."

Baast, knowing her future depended on her honesty, spoke the truth. She told the Alor of her kidnapping as a child, her brutal years as an experiment, and the wretched way the Empire forced bonds with the Sand Cat and Manka. She showed off her Snake Tooth and admitted how broken she felt knowing she would never have the one thing she yearned for. 

"I was bred to grow warriors, but I will remain barren," she whispered, unashamed of the tears streaming down her cheeks.

The woman across from her tilted her head, having remained silent through her entire recitation. "They took you from Zentarus too young. There are… things missing from your education, knowledge you have yet to acquire."

"There is?" Baast was surprised and yet not completely. She had been very young when they ripped her from her family.

"There is. I can teach you, but it will take time."

"I am not sure Di- Mando will be alright with a delay. I promised I would help him find a Jedi for Grogu."

If she was surprised Baast knew Din's name, she didn't show it. "Hm, for the child you took as your own. You will find parting with him to be like death. I do not envy you the position you have placed yourself in."

"I know," Baast whispered. "But he may be my only chance at a child."

"Perhaps. Perhaps not." She stood and motioned for Baast to follow her to the forge. "For now, you will sleep. Rest, Baast'mal. You are safe here, and I can see you have not been sleeping."

"Not because I felt unsafe," she snapped. "Mando is not to blame."

"Isn't he?" 

She stared, but Baast refused to look away. She would give the Alor no reason to doubt Din. 

She chuckled and turned to the forge, her hands busy out of Baast's view. "I have long considered Djarin one of our finest warriors. I am pleased to see him living up to his potential."

When she turned back, the mark of the mudhorn was in her hand, dangling from a leather thong. The Alor stepped forward and tied the cord around Baast's neck, settling the shiny bit of beskar against Baast's chest.

"There. Now, none who see you will challenge that you belong. I will have one of the others deposit you in a family suite so you may remain close to your Mandalorian with your child."

"He is not my Mandalorian."

She looked at Baast, and Baast swore she could feel the amusement rolling off the woman. "Isn't he?" she asked before going and opening the door. "Vizsla. Retrieve the child and take her to the home set aside for Djarin."

"Respectfully, no." The one called Paz crossed his arms, radiating defiance. "If she is Zentari, she should not be living with him. She should be available to all to choose."

Baast was too tired and too stressed to deal with his macho bullshit any longer and walked into the corridor with long smooth strides. She let her cloak fall behind her as she stalked the male keeping her from her child. 

"And do you think you are worthy?" she asked, soft, cold, and deadly.

"Baast," Din warned.

She could feel him now, more and more; even with the beskar, his emotions were starting to bleed through. Being with him was agony; her soul cried out for his, but being apart would likely be even worse.  

"I could be," Vizsla snickered.

Baast smiled to show off her fangs, then kicked him down the corridor. "You do not choose!" she roared. "I choose!"

When she made to stalk after him to teach the too proud Mandalorian a lesson he would not soon forget, she found herself captured against Din. 

"He means no disrespect, but he is right. You... you must find your fated mate." The words sounded like they pained him. "You can't stay with me and do that."

Baast felt herself crumble and swayed into him, distraught at causing him such grief. 

"She is clan of your clan as the child is the child of her heart. Baast'mal wears your sigil. Until she says otherwise, she will remain Clan Mudhorn. Collect the child, take her to your home, and return to me, Djarin."

The Alor's command was not one they could ignore. Din bowed his head and pulled Baast away, past Paz, who radiated wary respect. 

The traversed corridors in reverse until they came to one deserted of others, and Din spun her into the wall. "Are you alright?"

She clung to him, clung and shook as every cell and fibre and atom of her body begged for his until she could hardly bear it. "Your Alor has information for me. My knowledge is incomplete. I must stay until it is no longer this way."

"Then we stay."

The easy acceptance shocked her into searching the t-visor for his unseen eyes. "But, Grogu. The Jedi."

"It can wait."

"Mando," she sighed.

"Din," he growled low, pressing his body closer. "You will use my name with the Tribe and in private, Baast."

She closed her eyes, the pain growing. 

"Are you sick? Do you need a healer?"

His concern broke her a little more. "No. I am fine."

"You're not fine!" he snapped. "You're fading! I can see how much something is hurting you, Baast. What is going on?"

She dredged up every ounce of self-preservation she had left to stare him cooly in the visor. "That is not your concern."

He stepped away as if she'd hit him. "Fine. Use my home. I will find somewhere else to sleep."

She watched him walk away, her heart cracking with each step until he turned the corner, and it shattered. 

Baast landed hard on her knees, unable to catch her breath, gasping and dry heaving, tears spilling freely down her face. When the hands came, they were gentle, but she would not have cared if they brought pain. Nothing hurt as much as Din walking away. 

"I'm Sabine. Allow me to offer aid, Zentari."

Baast could only nod as she allowed the female to help her up and lead her away.

***

He stalked back to the forge with angry strides but a heavy heart. Baast was breaking down, and her continued refusal to let him help would drive him insane.

Paz nodded as he went by and shut the door to the forge as he left.

"So, you have brought us a Zentari. This is well done of you."

He said nothing, knowing she needed no response.

The Armourer held up the pauldron of earlier and discarded it. "But she is soul-sick."

"Soul-sick?" He'd never heard of it before.

"She believes she is damaged. Too long was she with the Empire. Too long has she battled the mind games of the demagolka. They could not break her spirit, so they poisoned her mind. This poison sickens her soul. She needs mirjahaal."

"Demagolka…" Din whispered, horror filling him. The Demagol was the notorious Mandalorian scientist of the Old Republic, a real-life monster and war criminal. He was known for his experiments on children and was hated by all Mandalorians for his perversions. Children were to be cherished, never tortured. "Are you sure?"

She looked at him. "What else would you call one who experiments on children?"

He felt foolish for not seeing it himself and tilted his head in apology.

She hummed and returned to the forge. "You will help her find mirjahaal."

"She doesn't want my help."

"But she needs it. You will do this. I have spoken."

He sighed but made sure the sound didn't leave his helmet and drew the ingot of beskar from his pocket. "For the Foundlings."

The Alor hummed. "This is The Way."

"This is The Way." Din turned and left, knowing a dismissal when he heard one. 

He stormed out but only made it as far as the turn to the first hall, where he stopped to sigh and closed his eyes. How could he help Baast find mirjahaal when she didn't want anything to do with him anymore?  

How could he help her find healing and peace of mind when he no longer felt it himself?

***

Nu draar - no way/ not on your life

Udesii - calm

Aruetyc - traitor/outsider

Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la - not gone, merely marching far away.

Mirjahaal - peace of mind, *healing*, general term for emotional well-being especially after trauma or bereavement. 

***

Next Chapter coming soon

[eilonwiiy]

Bookends ; A Witchlands AU

Chapter 7

When a relentless Evrane encourages him to be more adventurous, Aeduan explores the possibility of what life might be without Owl.  Meanwhile, Iseult can't help but feel that Safi is keeping something from her.

Summary: Iseult det Midenzi never expected to go to a top university, so when her mother falls ill and she is forced to drop out to make ends meet, life has never seemed so unfair. But when she starts working at the local library and is unexpectedly assigned in the Children’s Room, a certain monosyllabic man and his thrice-damned demon child start showing up and Iseult begins to wonder if the threads of fate have a plan for her after all.

Previous chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6

Ships: Iseult/Aeduan, Safi/Merik, and more… stay tuned!

Tags: modern AU, college setting, family, friendship, humor, fluff, slow-burn, romance, eventual smut

Read on AO3: here

Tag list: (please let me know if you’d like to be added!) @lseultdetmidenzi @twilightlegacy13

*   .   *   .   *   .   *   .

Aeduan prowled the bookshelves in the Children’s Room barely containing his impatience.  The room was unusually busy for the morning.  He’d overheard one disgruntled parent grumble about the schools being closed for a teacher development day and thus every corner was crawling with rambunctious children.  It didn’t help that Evrane and Owl were late.  Or that the main desk was absent one black-haired librarian.

Wherever Iseult was, Aeduan envied her.  The cacophony of electronic bells and whistles and high-pitched prepubescent voices migrating from the computer island was giving him a headache.  Every couple minutes one of the more stern looking librarians would instruct them to keep their voices down, adding to the fray of noise as well as Aeduan’s irritation.  The library should provide headphones, he thought grumpily.

“No books today?” came a voice behind Aeduan.

He turned around and found Evrane and Owl walking down the aisle.

“You’re late,” he said tersely.

“Yes, well,” Evrane breathed happily, clasping her hands together and sharing a look with Owl that he was surprised to see returned by the child, “we were finishing a puzzle.”

“A puzzle?” Aeduan stared at her incredulously.  “Evrane-”

Evrane held up a finger.  “Ah.  Trust.  Remember to trust me.”

They locked each other in a staring contest.  Aeduan held in a breath, impulse strained against his chest-

He conceded with a curt nod.  Evrane smiled.

“So what’s on the agenda this weekend?” Evrane asked as Aeduan knelt down to help Owl into her coat.

Aeduan shrugged.  “The same as usual.”  They had fallen into a post-session rhythm over the last few weeks, usually involving non-threatening topics like weekend plans or the weather.  

“I’ll pick up the girls from school tomorrow and they’ll stay the weekend.  Lisbet has some sort of group project she needs to go to for her science class, but other than that it should be uneventful.”

Evrane nodded, then eyed him more closely.  “And what about you?”

“Me?”

“Yes, you.  Do you have any plans?”  The manner in which she asked this question suggested only innocent curiosity, but bells were going off in Aeduan’s head.  He finished zipping Owl up and stood to face Evrane.  He squared his shoulders.

“I just told you.”

“I mean any plans that don’t involve the girls.  Or,” she added as an afterthought, “those girls, at least.”

“Owl will be-”

“Anyone who isn’t Owl, Lisbet, or Cora.”

Aeduan shook his head, confused.  “Who would I-”

“I don’t know, Aeduan,” cut in Evrane, followed by a single exasperated laugh.  “Perhaps a friend.  Or maybe you’d like to do something on your own.”

Aeduan’s jaw locked.  This was definitely outside of their mutually unspoken established topics of conversation.  His chest swelled with barely controlled annoyance.  “I can’t very well leave Owl at home without someone there to watch her.”  Each word was pronounced with an obvious effort of forced civility.

“No, you can’t,” Evrane agreed brightly.  “The people handling your adoption case will be very happy to know that you know that.”

“Then what exactly would you suggest I do?  Get a babysitter?”

“Yes!”

Aeduan waved a hand between them.  “Look, if you’re trying to offer-”

“No, of course I’m not volunteering.  I know you would never willingly accept my help.  Again,” added Evrane with a flash of her emerald eyes.  Before Aeduan could bite back, she was already herding him back into her line of thought.  “If not me, then someone else.  Perhaps Lisbet.  She’s responsible enough.”

“She’s young.”

“And perfectly capable.”

Aeduan pinched the bridge of his nose.  He was suddenly very tired.  Things had been going so well.  Why was she pushing this?  When he lowered his hand, he planned on asking her just that, but then she caught it with her own and everything inside him went quiet.  The skin was warm and her touch forced his gaze to meet hers.  

He’d seen her every week since she reentered his life, but only now was he suddenly struck by how much Evrane had changed in the last 13 years.  Nothing could take away her beauty, but there were little wrinkles branching out from the corners of her eyes like tree roots. He wondered what she was seeing on his face.    

“I’m only suggesting for your own sake,” she assured him calmly.  She didn’t let go of his hand.  “When was the last time you had a moment to yourself?”

Aeduan swallowed painfully.  “I don’t know,” he admitted finally, the confession rough against his throat.  

“Well,” Evrane smiled and she gave his hand encouraging squeeze before releasing it, “maybe it’s time to start thinking about what you can do to change that.”

*   .   *   .   *   .   *   .

“Goat tits!  This is the worst.”

“If you had done it last night-”

“Iz!”

Iseult hovered by Safi’s shoulder, coffee pot in hand, as her friend tried to scribble down her 9th and final (wrong) answer on a very crumpled looking piece of paper.  Her giant calculus textbook lay open on the table, the polished circular area barely big enough for her other school materials, let alone that monstrosity, as it was meant for coffee, not serious work.  Well, if you could call whatever Safi was doing serious, which incidentally, Safi didn’t.

“You do know all of that is wrong, right?” Iseult asked.

“Of course it’s all wrong!” Safi snapped, hand not stopping its’ frenzied movements.  “What do I look like?  A mathematician?!”

No, she didn’t.  In fact, she didn’t really look much like Safi either.  She’d spent far more time in the bathroom getting ready that morning than she normally did, and the result was a very different image than Iseult was used to seeing at 10 A.M..  Safi’s face was bare as it always was, far too beautiful to be needlessly hindered by make-up, but it looked fresh and clean, and the long shower she had taken had given her golden cheeks a lovely rosy glow.  Her hair was prettily braided and pinned around her head like a crown and, if Iseult wasn’t mistaken, she thought she caught a whiff of fruity perfume on her.  To top it all off, Safi had left her sweatpants and Cleaved Man hoodie crumpled on the floor and chosen to investigate the contents of her closet, leaving Iseult open-mouthed when she came sweeping out from behind the curtain into Jitters wearing a form fitting burgundy turtle-neck and floral corduroy skirt that showcased her long, lean legs and knee-high suede boots.  There was a good chance her calculus professor wouldn’t even recognize her.

“Better to hand something in than nothing and get zero marks though.  This,” Safi tapped the paper with her pencil, “shows I care.”

Iseult snorted.  Safi put the last finishing touches on her (wrong) answer with a flourish, then carelessly stuck the sheet of paper into her open textbook and slammed it shut.  

“I’d say ‘job well done’, but we both know that’s not true.”

Safi grinned smugly at Iseult, looking more than a little satisfied with herself.  

“I think I deserve another donut after all that.”    

“Of course you do,” Iseult said rolling her eyes and turning to retreat behind the coffee counter.  She heard the scrape of Safi’s chair as she got up and followed her.  While she got another pot of coffee started, Safi no doubt went to inspect the pastry display.  A sharp gasp of horror came from behind her back.

“No sprinkles?  What is this? The Grapes of Wrath?”

Iseult, wiping her hands on her apron, turned around.  “You know, after watching you bullshit your way through your calculus homework, it’s comforting to hear you make a literary reference.”

Safi scrunched up her nose at the display case.  “John Steinbeck taking up cranial space in my head doesn’t change the fact that there are no more sprinkled donuts.”

“Reference Jane Austen and maybe they’ll magically appear.”

Safi glanced over her shoulder, raising an eyebrow at Iseult.  “You’re not as funny as you think you are.”

“And you will be fine going a day without a sprinkled donut despite what you may think.  Pick something else.”  Iseult felt like a mother reprimanding her child.

Safi looked back at the pastries with a forlorn sort of sigh.  After a moment’s careful deliberation (for these truly are some of the hardest decisions we are presented with at 10 in the morning) she slid the glass door open and reached for a banana chocolate chip muffin.  

“A sensible substitute,” Iseult congratulated, waving open a brown paper bag and holding it out for Safi to deposit her muffin into.  Safi dropped it in, looking resentful, but Iseult knew she was hamming it up.  Safi had no issues when it came to expressing her anger.

Safi took the bag from Iseult and glared down at its sprinkle-less contents.  The raw judgement burning behind her eyes, all directed at a defenseless muffin, made Iseult think of something.

“Hey, you haven’t run into that guy from the bar on campus, have you?”

The paper bag crinkled under Safi’s hands as she rolled the top closed.  “What guy?”

“That asshole who,” Iseult hesitated, mentally wincing at the memory, “yelled at you.”

Safi’s hands froze.  “Ah,” she merely said, then resumed twisting the paper bag, despite it being well and closed.  “The ingrate thwarted by a single button.”

“Yeah, him.  Have you seen him?”

Safi gave the bag a final twist, then looked up at Iseult, offering her a closed-lip smile.  Her shoulders bounced once and she shook her head.  “Nope,” she said brightly.  She strolled out from behind the counter and back to her table.  “His tits probably fell off from frost exposure and he’s holed up in some hospital somewhere awaiting reconstructive surgery.”

Iseult watched Safi carefully.  For whatever reason, her tone had snagged on something in Iseult and held her in place.  Somewhere wrong.  A lie, possibly.

But never, in all their years of friendship, had Safi lied to Iseult.  And never had Iseult lied to Safi.  They told each other everything.  Safi had told Iseult about her uncle and the years she spent growing up with an alcoholic.  She had told her about Chiseled Cheater and the false kisses they’d shared.  She had told her about her parents and how she missed them and would trade anything to have them back.  Anything, except Iseult.

And Iseult had told Safi about Gretchya.  A childhood filled with loneliness and endless beratement.  She had told her about not being able to make ends meet and needing to drop out of school.  She had even told her that she had never been kissed until last summer.  

Now, suddenly, Iseult was wishing she hadn’t asked about the Nubrevnan.  The snag was no longer a snag, but twisting itself into a tangled web of wrongness with no obvious beginning or end.

“I have a proposition for you,” Safi announced, slicing through Iseult’s thoughts, though, the knot remained fully intact.  A living, breathing thing now.  The shift in topic seemed to feed it, pull it tighter into submission, so that all Iseult could do to contain it was stare at her friend.    

“How would you like to go to a party on Friday night?”

“Well, you know how much I like parties,” Iseult managed to reply deadpanned.

“I know, but it’s at Vaness’ and I’ve always considered her parties more like sophisticated soirees, you know?  She doesn’t put up with the bullshit you get at other parties on campus.”

“I guess.”  Safi wasn’t wrong.  Now busy working on her masters, Vaness didn’t have time to involve herself in the antics of college.  In truth, she never had.  It’s how she’d earned herself the title of the “Iron Bitch” in just the first week of her freshman year.  Even before she graduated, she’d displayed a low tolerance for her peers and the debauchery they would find themselves in every weekend.  Her parties always had an air of opulence around them and were strictly invitation only.  Except for her infamous end-of-the-year party.  That was open to everyone and it almost always ended with the cops shutting it down by sunrise.  At least, they had last year.  Iseult had been so drunk, she didn’t even remember how she’d gotten home that night.

“Are the Hell-Bards playing?” she asked, diverting her mind from racing off to memories she didn’t quite have the mental energy to duel with so early in the day.  

“I said it was going to be a classy affair.  Classy.”

“So, no?”

“No.”

“Good.  At least the soundtrack to the evening won’t suck.”

Safi’s face brightened.  “So you’ll come?”

Iseult relinquished a nod.  “Yeah, I’ll go.  If only to watch Vaness skewer Leopold with one of her nails.”

Safi bellied a laugh as she pulled on her coat.  “I think he rather enjoys it.  One may say he encourages it.”

“You think?” Iseult asked, genuinely curious.

Safi shrugged, then paused.  A dangerous smile crawled onto her lips.  “Jealous?”

“I could ask the same to you,” Iseult volleyed back.  “Don’t even try to deny that you’ve never thought about Vaness in that way.”

Safi feigned insult.  “I wouldn’t dream of it!  There isn’t a soul among us that hasn’t fallen under her spell.”  She started to back away towards the door.  “Are we still on for dinner tonight?”

“Yep!  But hold on, I have a favor I need to ask.”

Safi stopped her descent and took a couple calculated steps back towards the counter.  “A favor?”

“A proposition,” Iseult amended, co-opting Safi’s earlier choice word.

“If it’s for me to ditch class and run away to Marstok with you, then the answer is yes.  You’ve never had a better idea.”

“I was wondering,” Iseult went on pointedly, “if you’d be willing to go to Ryber and Tanzi’s book club with me next month.”

“I already said I would.”

“You did?  When?”

Realization burst across Safi’s face.  “Oh that’s right!  I told Ryber and Tanzi last week.  When we had lunch together.”

Iseult felt the line between her brow form before she could stop it.  “You had lunch together?”

“Yeah, last week.  Tuesday, maybe?  We ran into each other on the way to the dining commons and ended eating together.  They’re really great.  I like them a lot.”

“Yeah,” Iseult was barely able to say.  The image of Safi, Ryber, and Tanzi sitting at the dining commons, laughing together, without her made the knot in her chest from earlier drop into her stomach and melt into something different entirely.  “I like them too."

“When is it again?” Safi asked.

Iseult swallowed hard.  “She said they meet the second Friday of every other month.”

Safi whipped out her phone and tapped the screen a couple times before her eyebrows bounced in surprise.  “Oh.  So, Valentine’s Day?”

“Oh.  Um, I guess,” Iseult replied.  She hadn’t known that.  Not that it made a difference.  She’d never had a date for Valentine’s Day, nor any other calendar day of the year for that matter.  Nothing in the last month had indicated that this year would be any different.    

Iseult noted the small frown that appeared on Safi’s face as she looked down at her phone’s calendar for a moment too long before slipping it back into her coat pocket.  With some effort, she smiled at Iseult.  

“That should work for me.  Unless I get roped into a shift at the Cleaved Man.  Lord knows Stix probably has eight dates lined up for the evening.”  Safi bristled with a resentful huff.  She caught Iseult’s eye.

“So… are we going to Marstok or not?”

*   .   *   .   *   .   *   .

Aeduan’s boots hit the concrete hard, his conversation with Evrane replaying over and over again in his head.  He wished she hadn’t said anything.  He wasn’t angry, but now that the idea was out there, he couldn’t stop thinking about it.  A list was beginning to form with all the things he would do if he didn’t have to keep an eye on Owl every second of the day.  Simple things, like going for a run in the evenings.  Or taking a ride on his motorcycle when he needed to blow off steam.  He missed the adrenaline, missed cutting through the air like nothing could hurt him.  Maybe Evrane was right.  Maybe Lisbet wasn’t too young to watch Owl.  If not her, then who else could he trust with that responsibility?  

A whimper broke out behind Aeduan.  He’d been, without even realizing it, walking much too fast for Owl.  Monster.  10 minutes and he was already forgetting the child.

“Sorry,” he murmured, stopping and kneeling down to make sure she’d heard him.  Passersby walked around them on the busy sidewalk.  He adjusted Owl’s scarf.  Her eyes rolled down to the concrete.  

Avoidance.  She was avoiding him.  

Aeduan’s heart sank, all fantasies of his motorcycle whooshing out of his head.  How much of his conversation with Evrane had she understood?

“What would you like to do this weekend?” he asked her, his big hands curled around her scarf.  “I think it’s supposed to snow overnight tomorrow.  Want to build another fort for Blueberry?  The other one is almost all melted.”

Owl said nothing.

“Or maybe we could have a snowball fight with Cora and Lisbet.  I bet we can take them.”

Nothing.

Aeduan brought his forehead close to hers so that their noses were almost touching.  “Maybe,” he whispered, drawing out the word, “we could make a decision over a muffin?”

Owl sour expression cracked.  Relief flooded Aeduan’s heart when her black eyes made contact with his.  

Stopping at Jitters after a session with Evrane was becoming somewhat of a weekly tradition.  More than once he’d been tempted to pay a visit on days when they didn’t have an appointment at the library.  There was something comforting about starting off the morning with a fresh pastry and hot cup of coffee.  Or maybe he’d mooched off of Owl’s bowl of Cheerios for his own breakfast one too many times.  

It wasn’t long before the bell above Jitters’ entrance door was jingling its welcome, but just as Aeduan stepped inside, he froze.

It wasn’t the grouchy barista from his first trip (though he had, unfortunately, seen her since then).  No, it was Iseult behind the counter.  Wearing an apron.  Pouring coffee.

Iseult.

Her round face shone like the moon, as much of her chin length hair as possible pulled back in a messy bun and a headband resting on top of her head.  Wisps of stray hairs fell around her face and in her eyes as she wiped her hands on her apron and pulled out a pile of receipts from the front pocket.  Aeduan had never seen her so relaxed.  Or with so much color in her face.  Cheeks rosy pink, like she’d just finished with the lunch rush. It softened her somehow.  

The bell hanging above Aeduan’s head stopped swaying and went silent.  Waiting for the verdict.

He could run.  Turn around and leave and the girl would be none the wiser.  He’d have to make up some excuse to Owl, but how hard would that be?

Idiot, he cursed himself.  He was a former police officer.  The son of Ragnor Amalej.  What would his father say if he saw him running for the hills because of a simple librarian?  His mother would have smiled.  She would have told him again the story of another man who was kind and quiet.  A man who had stumbled over words and given her no choice but to fall in love with him.

That woke him up.  He was not his father.  And he certainly did not - and would never - have feelings for this plain girl, this librarian.  That thought was enough encouragement to get him through the door.  

Iseult’s head rose at the sound of the door slamming and the violent jangle of ringing that came with it.  Her expression, so ordinarily cool and unreadable, popped with surprise at the sight of him.  

“Aeduan.”  

His name sounded breathless on her lips.  Had he been paying attention to anything outside of her lovely, pale face, he would have felt the something it stirred inside him.

“I didn’t know you worked here,” remarked Aeduan matter-of-factly as he approached the counter.

Iseult’s features smoothed back into place.  “Yes. I work here and-” Her gaze fluttered up to the ceiling for a second, then back down.  She brushed her hair out of her eyes, possibly a nervous tick.  “And at the library.”

Aeduan nodded.  She was staring at him thoughtfully.  Expectantly.  He was here for a reason, wasn’t he?

“I was at the library today.”

“You were?”

“Yes.”  Aeduan paused, then thinking that perhaps he should say something else, continued.  “I wanted to get the next book in the My Father’s Dragon series… but you weren’t there.”

A small frown crinkled at the edge of Iseult’s eyes.  “Was Hilga there?  Or Rosa?”

“I-”  Well, this was more than a little embarrassing.  Good thing she didn’t know he was a former cop, top of his precinct, destined to make detective, and incapable of finding a book.  

“I didn’t have time to ask,” he lied.  

“Oh.”  Such a small word.  It carried the weight of thought that could not be read on her face.  “I can look for it tomorrow.”

“You don’t have to-”

“It’s no trouble-”

“We’re only a couple chapters in-”

“I really don’t mind,” Iseult insisted.  She hesitated, then added, “I can give you a call and let you know whether or not it’s in.”

“Oh.  Well...”  Aeduan took a bracing breath and tore a napkin from the basket on top of the display case, then grabbed one of the pens from the chipped mug sitting next to the register acting as a pencil holder.  He clicked the top of the pen with his thumb, bent over the counter, and started writing.  When he was finished, he slid it across the counter to Iseult.  

“My number,” he explained.

Iseult peeled the napkin from the counter and held it up with both her hands.  The way she held it made it look fragile, like it might break if she were to drop it.  Her lips rolled inward, and for the first time since meeting her, she seemed to have trouble meeting his eyes.

“Thank you,” she finally said.  Finally looking at him.  “But I have your contact information at the library.  From when you registered for a card.”

Aeduan could practically feel the inferno of embarrassment that ignited in his blood.  He half-expected her to shove his number back to him or, hell-gates, what if she crumpled it up and tossed it in the trash?  But instead she surprised him: she folded the napkin carefully and slipped it into the front pocket of her apron.

“Is there anything else I can help you with?”

Aeduan swallowed.  Once.  Twice.  Then shook his head.  “No,” he muttered, his voice little more than a rasp.  

Iseult blinked.  Confused.  “You don’t want anything?”

“Want?”  It took a moment for her meaning to penetrate his abnormally thick skull.  “Right.  Yes.  Hot Coffee.  Medium.  And two blueberry lemon muffins.”

“To go?”

And away from this devastating conversation?  “Yes.”

There would be no more attempt at conversing from his end.  He was spent.  While Iseult prepared his coffee, Aeduan busied himself with observing the cafe even though he’d seen it a dozen times before.  It was emptier than usual.  The same nondescript instrumental music played from the old stereo behind the counter.  The only thing out of place was the smoldering mound of charred wood and ash in the fireplace.  The normally popping fire seemed to have died and was in need of more wood.

“Do you want hazelnut?”

Aeduan jerked his head over his shoulder.  “Excuse me?”

“Do you want hazelnut with your coffee?  I sometimes like to top mine off with it.  It goes really well with this blend.”

Aeduan split his gaze between Iseult and the small jar of ground hazelnut in her hand.  He wasn’t even sure why she was asking him, but without his permission, his mouth was forming a succinct ‘sure’ and he returned his attention back to the cafe.  

“Oh!”

Aeduan swung around at the sound of Iseult’s startled gasp.  She wasn’t there.

Taking an urgent step forward, he braced his hands on the counter and craned his neck over the display case.  “Iseult?”

“I-I’m alright,” a muffled voice came and a split-second later, she popped back up from behind the pastries.  Color had blossomed on her cheeks, fanning out across the bridge of her nose.  “S-she just startled me.  That’s all.”

Aeduan’s eyes narrowed.  “Who?” he demanded. And then he noticed Iseult’s downturned gaze traveling to a place next to him.  Oh. Oh.

Owl was looking more red in the face than Iseult.  It was alarming how much tension those two chubby cheeks could conjur.  He knew this look.  It was the same one she gave the car seat the moment before he would force her down in it and buckle her up.  

Well, no time like the present.  They’d been to the library enough times that he supposed it was time for a proper introduction, so he scooped her up in his arms, then angled them both to face Iseult.

“Owl, this is Iseult.”  Iseult.  He’d never said her name out loud before.  It poured like honey from his mouth.  He licked his lips; it took him a moment to form more words.  “She works with Evrane at the library. She’s the librarian who picked out all your books we’ve been reading together.”  When Owl made no show of having understood a word he said, he tried to coax some reaction out of her with a gentle bounce on his hip and an encouraging, “Wasn’t that nice of her?”

Owl twisted her head and hid her face in the crook of Aeduan's neck.  

Well, it was a reaction.  Just not the one he was hoping for.  

He shifted on his feet and forced himself to look at Iseult.  “Sorry,” he apologized gruffly.  “She’s… shy.”

“That’s alright,” Iseult murmured, and Aeduan could have sworn he saw her lips harbor a small smile as she fidgeted with the strings of her apron.  “I’m shy too.”  Then, her lips quivered.  “Is s-she... your daughter?”

No.  

That’s what he was supposed to say.  It was the truth, wasn’t it?  Owl was nothing to him unless the adoption succeeded.  Yet nothing had felt so wrong to him.  

No.  

The word stopped his heart.  Sent his stomach to roil.  

“I would like her to be,” Aeduan heard himself admit.  A slow rasp.  Like something heavy being dragged over concrete.  “I… I’m applying for adoption.”

Aeduan watched Iseult’s pupils dilate.  The tremble in her lips quieted. Then: “That is admirable.”

Aeduan exhaled.  Warmth spread in his chest.  He didn’t know what to say.  He didn’t even notice Iseult tapping the keys on her register.  He barely understood what she was saying when she said, “Your total comes to $5.79.”

Numbly, Aeduan pulled out his wallet from his back pocket with one hand while his other arm was full of Owl.  He managed to pull out several bills and handed them across the counter.  When she handed him back his change, he dropped it into the tip mug next to the register.  

Owl seemed intent on staying hidden in his neck, so he did his best to pick up the bag of muffins and his coffee with one hand without dropping everything.  The transaction was over, but Aeduan found himself staring at Iseult, her staring back at him, her hands folded over each other in front of her as though it was taking some effort not to fidget with her apron strings.  It relaxed him somehow, seeing those delicate pearly white fingers locked together.  She was nervous; he wasn’t alone.  

Aeduan's wrist rolled at his side.  He sucked in a breath.  “Do you-”

The bell jangled as the entrance door swung open and a stick figure of a boy came flying in.

“Sorry, sorry I know I’m late!”

He was a blur of gangly limbs and patchwork colored skin - some dark, some light - as he skidded to halt behind the counter, heaping apologies onto Iseult like his life depended on it.  On and on it went and Aeduan just stood there, despite the fact that he had nothing to do with whatever this stranger was babbling about.  In the midst of the boy’s mounting hysteria, his voice pitching higher as it went on, Iseult’s eyes slid to Aeduan’s, her expression as quiet as ever.  Something passed between them, but Aeduan wasn’t sure what.

“It’s alright, Cam,” Iseult finally interjected over the boy’s apologies.  Again, she glanced over at Aeduan.  She looked like she wanted to say something.  But for some reason, Aeduan spared her the chance.  He forced a rough cough from his lungs and, giving her a brusque nod, spun away from her entirely and made a beeline to the cream and sugar station.  Behind his back, the boy’s voice piped up again, and Aeduan heard the shuffle of feet and voices trailing away as though they were moving their conversation to the back.  Iseult obviously had her hands full with an incompetent employee.  There was no reason he had to trap her in another staring match that would inevitably go nowhere.  

Those eyes.  Aeduan gritted his teeth as he uncovered his coffee thinking of them, how they had looked at him when she’d called him admirable.  Him.  Admirable.  She had no right calling him that.  She didn’t even know him.

Well, he reasoned, stirring cream into his coffee and watching the flecks of hazelnut Iseult added spin around and around and eventually become swallowed by the whirlpool, she hadn’t exactly called him admirable.  She was only commending what he was doing with Owl admirable.  Admirable.  That was one word for it.  Or stupid.  Impulsive. Completely insane and beyond his reach.

The bells over the entrance door tinkled and Owl, who had been glued to his side for the last 5 minutes, stirred slightly in his arms, her tiny frame expanding and drooping with a sleepy sigh.  

Hell-gates, what was he doing?  Trying to adopt a kid?  Who was he kidding?  It didn’t matter who his father was or what family he came from or that Iseult thought it was admirable.  He was still Aeduan Amalej.  He may not wear the badge or carry a gun anymore, but he still had his reputation as the demon of his precinct who had given up his soul for the cause, for justice.  That was something he couldn’t shed so easily.  

Aeduan popped the lid back on his coffee cup and his hand froze.  Cold crawled across the back of his neck like a spider.  It was only when a familiar voice spoke from behind him did he know why.  

“Well, well, if it isn’t my partner in justice.”

[thewritewolf]

Eating Habits Chapter 7: Surprise Visit

Marinette is starving in class, but thankfully Adrien isn’t about to let that slide.

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 (Final)

Enjoy!

Read on Ao3

Marinette was feeling stretched thin, between hunger and lack of sleep and heaps of work. It was ironic, then, that she was ignoring all that by spending the class period working on an entirely different piece. Maybe it was because this time she wasn’t toiling away in solitude at her apartment but rather standing in the classroom with a half dozen other students while her professor prowled between them.

It was mid-October, which meant that it was just over halfway through the semester. Things had begun mellowing out as she hit a stride with her various activities and class work. Maybe joining all those clubs wasn’t a good idea after all, but she had promised herself she’d at least stick with it for the rest of the semester. Besides, it was all moving smoothly now... even if it came at the cost of non-vending machine food and extra sleep.

She shook her head to focus back on the long winter coat in front of her. The student’s winter show wasn’t nearly as anticipated or important as the spring show, but it was still a good idea to make a strong first impression. And besides, she wanted to make sure that every piece that had her name attached to it was quality work. ‘Start as you mean to go on’, as her maman loved to say.

Hunger pangs made her freeze midway through her measuring. One hand gripped her desk while the other covered her stomach. She closed her eyes and waited for the pain to pass. When she opened them again, she quickly glanced around to make sure no one had caught that. She’d had enough concerned looks to last her the rest of the semester.

The door opened and she risked a glance up to see what poor student was arriving this late into the period. Her eyes widened she realized it was Adrien, looking around the room with a frown as he stood in the doorway. Their eyes locked and his face immediately brightened.

He was about to call out when her professor quickly crossed the room to stand in front of him. “Is there something I can help you with, young man?”

Adrien held up a plastic bag that had a few tupperware containers inside of it. “So sorry, Madam Professor, but my delightful girlfriend hasn’t had a decent meal in two days and she is determined to worry me sick.” He narrowed his eyes at Marinette, but she could still see the twinkle of mischief in them even from this distance. “I promise I won’t disrupt your class for long.”

There were a few scattered giggles from her classmates and Marinette blushed, mortified at her boyfriend’s arrival. Irritation flared as she belated realized he’d just called her out in front of the whole class.

“Good. We’ve all been a little worried about her,” her professor said with a nod and a faint smile, making Marinette blush spread even further. Had it really been that obvious? While she returned to her desk, she added, “Just don’t get too comfortable. This is work time, not flirt time.”

He flashed her a boyish grin and said, “Don’t worry, I’m excellent at multitasking.”

Marinette crossed her arms and glared at him as he walked towards her. When he caught the way she was looking at him, he rolled his eyes.

“Lovebug, you really have no one to blame but yourself here.” He spoke quietly, mindful of the other students still working in the room.

Her hands shifted to her hips. “You barge into my classes-”

“-and feed you after you starve yourself for at least two days, yes. Unless you are about to admit that you’ve been ignoring the lunches I make for you to take to university?”

Her glare intensified and she took a deep breath to argue, but then another wave of hunger pangs struck. Her stomach growled, likely sensing the food so close as hand. A couple of the students closest to her glanced in her direction, turning her face scarlet again.

She clenched her jaw in defeat and looked up at his eyes, expecting him to be smug. Instead, he was frowning, his eyes regarding her sadly. It sent a spear of hurt through her heart. After a few more moments of silence, she sighed.

“You didn’t have to do this, you know.”

“And I think you know that I did have to,” Adrien replied without missing a beat. He set the bag on her desk and walked over to stand next to her. His eyes roamed her coat. “I see this is coming along well. How are you feeling about it?”

She gratefully accepted the change in topic and talked fashion with him for a few minutes. While Adrien had never been huge into fashion, his perspective from the modeling side of things was often indispensable. Not to mention the things he’d absorbed just by being surrounded by high fashion from a very young age.

Still, there was a lot more that she needed to do and her professor was starting to look annoyed.

“Okay, Adrien. Time for you to go,” she said, gently nudging him away.

“Are you sure?” He spoke with the teasing tone of voice that never failed to annoy her to pieces. “Maybe I should stay for a little while longer. Make sure you actually eat the food I made this time, hm?” He smirked at her as she scowled.

“Get out of here, centerfold. I’ve got work to do and you’re being a menace.”

“Oh, alright.” He put a hand on her head as he kissed her temple. “See you soon, lovebug.”

She maintained her scowl even after he left. All the way until her stomach growled again and curiosity overcame her work ethic. She set down her tools and pulled a tupperware container out of the plastic bag. Her scowl melted away the moment she took off the lid and the delicious smell of chicken stirfry hit her nose.

Maybe Adrien had a point, Marinette thought as she nearly fell over thanks to the smell of sauteed veggies and mixed spices. If this was her reaction to an actual meal, perhaps she had been overdoing it on the vending machine crackers. And if her boyfriend was determined to cook for her...well, she couldn't let it go to waste, could she?

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

“Sorry I’m late guys,” Adrien said as he took a seat at the cafe. “I had to make a stop at the university.”

Alya and Chloe took a break from their glaring at each other to glance at him.

“Why does she need to be here, Adrien?” Alya asked. Her eyes narrowed at Chloe. “Hard to see her caring much about us common people.”

“While it is true that you all are very common...” Chloe began.

“Chlo…” Adrien said in a chastising tone.

“...I want my friends to be happy.”

“Oh, so we’re friends now?” Alya drummed her fingers against the table in an irritated tempo.

“Well, it has been years since I’ve even mocked you and your ridiculous fashion sense.”

“It’s been years since we’ve talked!”

“Hm… you’ve got a point there.” Chloe looked Alya up and down with an appraising eye. “Well, you’ve certainly gotten better with makeup, though I could still give you a few pointers. And your taste in shoes is improving.”

Alya rolled her eyes. “Still the vain, egotistic-”

“Thankfully you make up for it in your journalistic skills. Like when you brought that corruption issue to light last month.”

“You… read my articles?” Alya spoke slowly, wary surprise evident in her voice.

“Of course. I started back when…” Chloe glanced at Adrien and coughed lightly. “Well, after you saved Adrien from the angry mob, I figured you might be worth another look.” She sniffed haughtily. “I suppose I got you all wrong from the start. I’m-” Chloe made a face as if she had bite into a lemon. “I’m sorry. There?”

Alya blinked at Chloe while Adrien sat back and watched it all unfold. While he wasn’t certain that things would pan out like this, he knew that Chloe had at least wanted a chance to make things right with the gang. Marinette and Nino had big hearts and were more than willing to forgive, but Alya wasn’t nearly as trusting. A helpful trait for a reporter, less so when it came to stuff like this. But if she was willing to give it a shot…

“Ugh.” Alya pinched the bridge of her nose. “Alright, fine. We’re cool for now, but you’re on thin ice, missy.” Before Chloe could reply, Alya turned to Adrien. “Anyway - you stopping at the university. I take it that was for our main girl, sunshine?” At his hum of approval, Alya nodded. “Good, I’ll feel better knowing she had something to eat today. Girl has been scaring me.”

“Something up with miss goody-goody pigtails?” Chloe said with a sip of her latte.

“Marinette, my beloved girlfriend,” Adrien said pointedly, looking Chloe in the eye, “is working herself into the ground. We’re here to figure out how to stop her from doing that.”

“I think we’re getting through to her. She’s at least not getting worse, ya know?” Alya took a bite out of her croissant. “With how busy we all are, that might be the best we can do until winter break.”

“So… just keep holding steady and hope she starts listening?”

“Definitely. We don’t want her to feel smothered by us, that’ll just make her double down out of… well, I’d say ‘spite’, but I don’t think that girl has a gram of spite in her. Too much raw sugar and strawberry filling.”

Adrien nodded slowly. That made a certain amount of sense.

“Are you two for real?” Chloe raised her eyebrow. “That is the most ridiculous, non-plan I’ve ever heard of.”

“You don’t know Marinette like we do, girl,” Alya said, narrowing her eyes. “Let us handle our friend.”

“Listen, Adrikins,” Chloe said, leaning forward to put her elbow on the table as she gave her full attention to Adrien. “All this padding around the problem isn’t gonna solve it. You both know Marinette - is she the kind of person to stop throwing herself into her work?”

Alya exchanged a look with Adrien.

“Right,” Chloe continued. “Something bigger needs to be done if you want her to start taking care of herself again.”

“Any ideas about this ‘something bigger’, Chlo?” Adrien asked.

Chloe peered over her sunglasses with a raised eyebrow. “Like you two said, you know her so well. I’m sure you can figure something out. Just be firm with her. It’ll snap her out of this trance she’s probably worked herself into.”

With two wildly different pieces of advice to consider, Adrien turned the conversation to different topics. At least he had achieved the impossible of getting Alya and Chloe to act somewhat civilly with each other. If he could accomplish that, then helping Marinette ought to be a piece of cake.

Right?

[thisdiscontentedwinter]

Stella and the Wolf - Chapter 13

You can read it here on AO3, or find the Tumblr Chapter Index here. 

Peter Hale drives at 2009 Hyundai that doesn’t belong to him. There’s a woman’s cardigan on the back seat, and a Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital lanyard hanging out of the glove compartment. The ID it’s attached to is hidden inside the glove compartment, but Stiles has no doubt whose car it is: the nurse’s. The redhead who smelled of magic.

He thinks of Lydia.

A siren, maybe. A goddess, certainly, even if she’s just an ordinary human. But she’s not, is she? She’s something too, according to Peter. Stiles wonders if he’ll live long enough to discover what.

He curls his fingers around the seatbelt, and tries not to steal glances at Peter Hale.

He isn’t sure where Peter is taking him.

He’s too afraid to open his mouth and ask.

Rains spatters on the windshield, smudging the passing lights. They’re a few blocks over from downtown, achingly close to the Sheriff’s Department. If they stop at the next red light, maybe…

But the light stays green as they cruise through, and even if Stiles managed to get out of the car without Peter grabbing him, what are the chances he could outrun an Alpha werewolf? And maybe there’s a tiny part of him that hopes Peter really is looking for Derek, and that’s all he wants from Stiles is his help, not his life. He doesn’t know why Peter would want to kill him—well, apart from the fact that Stiles witnessed him murder the nurse—but that’s always been the problem, hasn’t it? Stiles hasn’t cracked the pattern.

He knows why Peter killed the people who killed his family. He knows, and he can’t pretend to be appalled or anything. If anyone hurt Dad and Stella… well, Stiles wouldn’t hold back either.

But Laura Hale doesn’t fit the pattern.

Stiles watches the lanyard hanging from the glove compartment swing back and forth as they round a corner, and a flash of memory hits him. He’s eight, and Mom and Dad are laying on their bed, and Stiles is wedged between them like a little tick. Mom has her wedding ring on a chain, holding it above her belly—that’s where the baby lives!—and if it swings one way it’s a girl, and if it swings another way it’s a boy, and it’s—

“An old wives tale,” Dad says, but he’s laughing.

“Hush, you,” Mom tells him. “I’m not old!”

The ring begins to swing, and it’s like magic, and Stiles bounces up and down excitedly when Mom tells him the baby is a girl.

“Might be,” Dad says. “It’s fifty-fifty!”

And Mom just laughs and says, “We’ll see.”

The lanyard swings back and forth, back and forth, and Stiles thinks of Stella. He thinks of her at Melissa’s house tonight, making a blanket for the kitten. He thinks of her standing on the top of the car in the parking light on student teacher night, a tiny, solitary figure, brave in the face of danger. He thinks of her eating breakfast with Derek, and her bright, delighted smiles that were echoed faintly, almost unwillingly, in the quirk of Derek’s mouth. He thinks of her reading Matilda to a comatose man and not knowing he was a monster.

The car turns into a parking garage. It’s almost entirely empty at this hour. The office workers who use the place between nine and five are at home, eating dinner, or tucking their kids in, or curling up on the couch to watch TV.

They drive down to the first level underground. Yellow fluorescent lights flicker overhead. Peter pulls the car into a parking space, and turns the engine off.

Stiles tries to remember how to breathe.

“Now,” Peter says, and his eyes flash red, “you said you could help me find my nephew?”

“I have an idea,” Stiles says. “I’m going to need a computer.”

“There’s one in the trunk.”

***

The computer isn’t the only thing in the trunk. The nurse’s body is there as well. Stiles feels like a tomb raider or something, levering the laptop out from under the woman’s stiff hand. Like he’s expecting her reanimated corpse to grab for it at any second.

It’s the strangest feeling in the world.

Not the faint dissociation. That’s to be expected, probably.

No, it’s the way that his brain tries to tell him that she might be the monster in this scenario, and not the man standing next to him.

Maybe it’s his brain trying to protect him.

But maybe it’s more than that?

Stiles doesn’t trust himself enough right now to tell the difference.

***

“There’s this app,” Stiles says, once the trunk is closed and the nurse’s body is hidden from sight again. “I think Derek took Scott’s phone, so we can use the app to track it.”

Peter prowls behind him, never more than a step away, back and forth, back and forth.

Stiles’s fingers jitter over the keys of the laptop.

“His user name is 'Allison'?” Peter asks, and Stiles can hear the contempt dripping from his tone. And then: “His password is also 'Allison'?”

Stiles summons more sass than he feels: “Still want him in your pack?”

There’s a huff of hot breath against the back of his neck that might almost be laughter.

***

Scott’s phone is in the Preserve.

“I don’t get it,” Stiles says. “He’s being kept at your old house?”

“Not at,” Peter says. “Under. I know exactly where he is.”

“Last night,” Stiles says, keeping his gaze fixed on the screen.  “Last night Kate Argent tried to get me and Stella into her car. She had a gun.”

He hears Peter’s low growl. “What time was this?”

“About eight.” Stiles dares turn his head, and catch Peter’s intense red gaze. “Did she have Derek then?”

“Interesting,” says Peter. “And no.”

“Why is it interesting?”

“Because that means she’s hunting you for bait, little rabbit,” Peter tells him. “There aren’t many things that would get my nephew to step into her trap, but your little hummingbird heartbeat just might.” He lifts his nose, like he can smell Stiles’s fear. He can, probably. “You’re lucky she found him, or she’d still be prowling for you.”

“I don’t think—” But his protestation that Derek doesn’t really give a shit about him are cut off when Peter grips his wrist suddenly, and turns him so that he’s pushed back against the trunk of the car.

“Humans,” Peter says, his lips curling. “So fragile. Tell me, Stiles. Would you like the bite? If it doesn't kill you - and it could - you'll become like us.”

“Like you?”

Peter’s mouth quirks into a smile. “Yes, a werewolf. Would you like me to draw you a picture? That first night in the woods, I took Scott because I needed a new pack. It could've easily been you. You'd be every bit as powerful as him. No more standing by his side, watching him become stronger, and quicker, more popular, watching him get the girl. You'd be equals. Maybe more. Yes or no?”

And Stiles’s brain shorts out for a second there.

For a second he thinks of what it would be like to be strong, superhero strong. To not be the breakable, bruisable human constantly getting pushed around by things bigger and tougher than he is.

And then he thinks of Stella and Dad.

“No,” he says, well aware that there’s nothing he can do except say that one word. There’s no way he can stop it if Peter wants it to happen. “I don’t want to be like you.”

For a moment he thinks he’s crossed the line—it won’t be the first time his mouth has run away with him—but Peter only smiles. “Do you know what I heard just then? Your heart beating slightly faster over the words ‘I don't want.’ You may believe that you're telling me the truth, but you are lying to yourself.”

Maybe.

Maybe it is a lie.

Or maybe it was fear that made his heart jump.

Fear that Peter will bite him anyway.

“Don’t you understand yet?” Peter asks, tilting his head to one side. “I’m not the bad guy here.”

There’s a dead body in the trunk that tells a different story though.

Peter finally uncurls his fingers from Stiles’s wrist, and lets it drop.

“Give me your keys,” he says, and what?

Stiles digs around in his pocket and holds the Jeep keys out. Watches as Peter Hale curls his hand around them and crushes them.

Crushes them.

His smile seems a little rueful as he drops the keys back into Stiles’s palm. “Goodbye, Stiles.”

And then he’s gone.

He didn’t kill Stiles, and he’s gone.

And Stiles has to run the three miles back to school.

***

“Stiles!”

It’s not Scott who grabs him by the arm the second he bursts back into the school gym—where is Scott anyway?—it’s Lydia. And she strong-arms him as easily as any jock, dragging him to the nearest wall and shoving him against it.

“What the hell happened to you?” she demands. “What the hell is going on?”

“Nothing,” he says, aware of Jackson looming up on them. “It’s nothing. Just stay out of it, okay?”

And then Jackson’s right there, and he’s giving Stiles a knowing look, and taking Lydia by the hand. “Yeah, let the little weirdo have his little secrets, Lydia.”

Like Jackson isn’t playing with fire as well, but as long as he keeps Lydia out of it, Stiles doesn’t care.

“Stay out of it,” he says again, this time to Jackson. “Just stay out of it.”

You wouldn’t want to be one of them, he wants to tell him, if you knew.

“Freak,” Jackson says, and leads Lydia away.

Stiles wipes his sweaty palms on his pants, and checks his phone. No texts. No calls. And where the hell is Scott?

The avalanche hits tonight, Stiles has no doubt. Peter, and Derek, and the Argents—it’s all about to come to a head out at the old Hale house in the Preserve. And Stiles wants to be there. He wants to help Derek. He doesn’t care about anyone else, but he wants Derek to get out alive. But there’s too much crazy, and too many people with fangs and bullets, and Stiles wants to help, but he also doesn’t want to be there to see it all go wrong. He doesn’t want to see Derek get hurt, or worse.

He’s small and selfish, probably, but he’s also scared.

He’s so, so scared.

He sends a text to Allison: You and Scott stay out of the Preserve tonight, ok? Promise.

And then he sends another one to his Dad: Can’t start the Jeep. Can you come pick me up?

Maybe he’ll tell Dad he dropped the keys down a garbage disposal or something.

He goes outside and sits in the cool, and get away from the music, and the dancing, and the people, and all this bullshit. He hates it. He hates himself more.

Dad texts back after a few minutes: On my way now.

Stiles bows his head and waits.

[kathrynmaslow]

Love Lies 5/15

Summary: Ever since Emma was 13, she knew she had the ability to destroy people if she wanted to, and some days, she really wanted to. After being forced to go to Greenwood Academy following a traumatizing event in her childhood that brought to the surface her ability to manipulate fire, she never thought she would be free of the place. So for nearly 10 years, she lived a solitary existence with the exception of her best friends, but that was all about to change.

Killian Jones had just been sentenced to attend the university campus at Greenwood Academy after an accident at sea caused him to be dishonorably discharged from Her Majesty’s royal Navy and lose his hand. He doesn’t know what to think about these newfound powers and what they spell for the rest of his now not-so-normal life. But a chance encounter one day has the ability to change all of that.

A story about love and redemption between two people that shows, if you have the right person beside you, you can find a light in the darkness.

Rating: M Content Warnings: Mentions of Violence/Death, Brief mention of Childhood Abuse/Sexual Assault, Mild Sexual Content Chapter Notes: Chapter 5 is here folks! This is actually one of my favorite chapters in this entire work so I am excited for you to read it as well!

Check out the amazing art work that my artist @princesse-swan did for both chapter 3 on tumblr. Thanks again as always to my beta @daveyjacobsthepotterhead for taking this work and helping me turn it into something great. You are the literal best.

Read on FF

Catch up on Tumblr: One  Two  Three  Four

Art by @princesse-swan here

Chapter 5 Emma sat down on the edge of the wall surrounding the plant beds at the entrance to campus from the dorms. Unwrapping her grilled cheese and tomato sandwich, she looked out at the rows of dorm buildings lining the main walk onto the academic campus.

The sidewalks were abandoned, with nary a soul on campus to be found. Many of the students went home during the fall break about halfway through the term, and Emma took advantage of some time just to herself that she didn’t have to spend in her room.

While she enjoyed time with her friends while they were on campus, she did enjoy having the campus pretty much to herself during the breaks where everyone who wasn’t high risk got to go home. If she remembered correctly, after Elsa moved into a community in Alaska last summer, there were about 17 other students that had a full run of the campus to themselves.

Losing Elsa as a friend had been hard. She had arrived at the academy after Emma had, and could have been considered her polar opposite in every way. While Emma burned hot, Elsa burned cold, with extensive gifts of ice and snow, she proved quite the challenge for the staff to contain, considering that she could freeze off her suppression gear and not be affected by them at all. She was someone that Emma could relate to, someone who could understand the beast that prowled beneath her skin, and losing that confidant last semester had been something that she truly hadn’t fully bounced back from yet.

Taking a bite out of her sandwich, Emma just sat and watched the leaves fall from the trees.

o.O.o

Killian didn’t know what to think about how quiet the campus had become once fall break had begun.

Yes, he had been told that all the students who weren’t high risk students would be allowed to visit home for the two weeks that classes were on break, but he hadn’t realized how truly empty the campus would feel.

He spent the first two days of the break wandering around campus to see who was around.

A few of the administration members were lingering around with the multitude of security officers watching the campus, but he had only run into a handful of other students.

There was one gentleman named Eric, who had the power to create storms out of thin air. He was a perfectly nice guy, but after living 6 years of his life on a boat, he decided not to trust anyone who could sink a ship on a whim.

Another woman named Cruella had the ability to control people with her voice. How they regulated that power, Killian couldn’t fathom, but it was probably for the best.

On the third day, it seemed as though he was in luck.

While wandering through the abandoned floors of the library, he stumbled upon Emma bent over another drawing book sketching.

Thankfully she didn’t have any headphones over her ears this time, so he didn’t have any chance of ruining her artwork, but he still made the effort to make a bit of noise against the door as he walked in.

Emma looked up at him in shock.

“Killian, what are you doing here?” She asked.

“Wandering through the library, but I don’t suppose that is what you meant by the question.” He stated. He had never mentioned to her that he was a high risk student before and Killian had to imagine that this was a bit of a shock.

“I am so sorry, that completely came out wrong. However, that was what I had meant by the poorly phrased question.” Emma said, tucking her hair behind her ear as she flushed in what Killian presumed was embarrassment.

“It’s fine Swan, truly. I know you didn’t mean anything horrible by the remark.”

“I am a bit curious though, what kind of powers do you have that make you a high risk student?” Emma said, pushing her notebook to the side and leaning towards him.

He caught a glance at the notebook as it turned towards him slightly, and he grasped at the chance to change the subject. He didn’t even like thinking about his powers, so he really didn’t want to talk about them with someone else.

“Emma, this is amazing.”

It was, truly. Drawn out on the page was the image of a woman, long black hair hanging over her shoulders, one bloody hand clutching a dagger to her chest and the other grasping a heart. There was no color to the design yet, but she had shaded in where the blood was likely soaked into the woman’s hair and dress. The entire thing was hauntingly beautiful.

“I know an attempt to distract me when I hear it.” Emma said.

“I wasn’t trying to distract you, I genuinely like your art.” He retorted.

“I also am pretty good at knowing when someone is lying to me. And while you do like peeking at my sketches, you were lying that this wasn’t a distraction.” Emma said, looking adorably smug when she said it.

He couldn’t help but smile in response. “Fine,” Killian said, rolling his eyes. “Maybe I was trying to get you off my tale, but I would prefer not to talk about this. It’s not something I am truly comfortable with and, while I do enjoy your company and think of you fondly like a friend, I don’t think this is something I can tell you about.”

Emma stared at him for a long moment before nodding her head.

“I can accept that, there are things about myself, and events that have happened to me that I don’t talk about to anyone else. I can understand needing time to process things that are traumatic before being able to open up to someone else.” She said.

“Since we aren’t talking about anything related to our powers or our past,” She said, pausing to look up at him meaningly. “Why don’t you tell me something that I probably wouldn’t know about you.” She said.

When Emma was smiling at him like that, He couldn’t deny her anything.

“I actually am a bit artistic myself. I do the occasional doodle.” Killian said.

Emma’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Really, I wasn’t expecting that.”

“There are a lot of things about me that you wouldn’t expect Swan.” He said, relishing the flush that spread across her face in response to his quirked eyebrow and tongue in cheek.

“Alright Killian, let’s see what you can do.” She said, pulling blank sheets from her book for the both of them and handing him a pencil.

“What do you want me to draw for you Love?” He asked, taking the pencil from her and working to move the paper into the position he wanted it in with his other wrist.

“Whatever inspires you right now.” She said.

He looked up into her bright green eyes and knew exactly what he wanted to draw.

“How long are you going to give me?” Killian asked.

“Let’s say, finish in an hour. Whatever you can finish by that point in time is what you’ve got.” Emma said.

“Challenge Accepted.” He said, turning to his work and beginning his attempt at replicating perfection.

o.O.o

Emma and Killian were spending the afternoon out in the courtyard between the college campus and the lower campus when they heard it.

Killian stopped mid-sentence in his retelling of how his brother got stuck by the back of his shorts in a tree when they were younger and cocked his head.

“Swan, does that sound like crying to you?” He asked.

Emma listened harder, facing further towards the lower campus where Killian was pointing towards. Sure enough, it did sound like someone was crying.

She stood, gesturing for Killian to follow, heading towards the lower campus.

Normally, students on the college campus were not allowed to venture onto the lower campus, but since it was a school break, students were allowed to roam the grounds as they pleased.

They walked past the first handful of buildings before they could finally locate the sound.

Curled into a ball between two of the buildings and crying into his hands was a boy with a mop of brown hair.

The young boy could have been no more than 12, which was incredibly young for someone to come to the academy.

But then again, Emma had arrived around that age as well.

Emma flashed back to one of her first days on the campus, reeling from being separated from her family and forced to move halfway across the country to a place she didn’t know and getting surrounded by people she was unfamiliar with.

She had also spent a few nights crying from the loss. The loss of her brother, the loss of her mother, the loss of the only home she had known.

The loss of her normal life.

She turned to see Killian watching her with a speculative gaze. She only shook her head at him.

Turning back to the little boy, she walked slowly towards him, since he still hadn’t noticed them standing there.

“Hey, are you okay?” She asked, crouching down in front of him.

The boy visibly started, looking up at her in surprise.

“What? Who are you?” He asked.

“My name is Emma, and this is Killian,” She said, gesturing behind her at Killian, who was still standing back from them at a good distance.

She noted that his blunt wrist was tucked behind his back.

“Are you okay?” She asked again.

The boy sniffled, nodding his head in agreement even though a few fat tears still escaped his eyes to fall down his cheeks.

“What’s your name?”

“Henry,” He said, sticking his hand out in greeting.

“Well Henry, it is a pleasure to meet you. When did you start your stay here?” Emma asked. He didn’t seem the type to be a new high risk student since he didn’t have any suppression items on that she could see, but you never know.

“My mom dropped me off this morning.” Henry said, sniffing loudly again, his lower lip quivering.

“Well, it sounds like you could use a friend, would you like to hang out with me and my friend for the rest of the day?” Emma asked.

Nodding his head, he stood up and fell into her extended arms.

He shook a little with quiet cries, and Emma rubbed his back in a soothing manner.

Killian came around in front of her, and placed his hand on the back of Henry’s shoulders and rubbed slow circles as well.

“You know Henry, I remember my first night that I spent away from all my family.” Killian said.

Henry pulled away from her slightly, turning to look at Killian.

“Really, I thought it was the most terrifying thing that could ever happen to me at the time.” Killian admitted. “Would you like to hear about it?”

“Is it a scary story?” Henry asked, standing fully away from Emma.

“Not really, it only seemed like it at the time. Why don’t you come for a walk with Emma and I, we had a lunch sitting out in the courtyard.” Killian stood, extending his gloved hand for Henry to take.

Emma smiled, watching Killian lead Henry towards their impromptu picnic sight, weaving an exaggerated story of a 20 year old man sleeping away from home for the first time, and crying himself to sleep.

Killian winked over his shoulder at her once he got Henry laughing at his story.

With that wink, Emma felt something she was pretty sure would grow into love start blooming under her breast.

o.O.o

Killian was walking around campus outside.

It was pretty close to the time he went to bed, but it was fixing to storm out, lightning streaking across the sky and thunder rolling in across the campus, and it made him restless.

The barrier surrounding the campus kept out all supposed threats against their safety, but unfortunately, couldn't prevent the rain from falling on them.

His thoughts were occupied with thoughts of Henry, that young lad they had found on campus earlier.

Emma had told Killian that he was a bit of an anomaly when he mentioned that his gifts had only just manifested at 25 years, but he didn’t know they could start showing that early.

The young lad hand only just turned 12 a few weeks ago, a fact the young lad had divulged to them while they were splitting ham and cheese sandwiches and cheetos in the middle of campus during the day.

He had something relatively minor as a gift, something that doesn’t require him to stay on campus during school breaks like him and Emma have to.

When they revealed that fact to the lad, it seemed to turn his entire spirit around, from sniffeling and sad to bright and chipper.

Almost a bit too bright, considering the lad started glowing on them.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he was pretty spooked when he heard a voice off to his left.

“Killian?”

He whirled around, and found Emma sitting on a low wall surrounding a garden in the yard.

“Emma, what are you doing out here?” he asked, tucking his hand into his pocket as he made his way over to her.

“I could ask you the same thing.” She said, watching as he came over and sat down next to her.

“Couldn’t sleep, decided to go for a bit of a walk.” He said, shrugging his shoulders a bit.

“Me neither.” Emma said, pulling one of her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around it, resting her chin on her knee.

“Yeah, but I couldn’t sleep because of the storms, I don’t think that was the case for you. What’s vexing you love?”

Emma turned to look at him, but once she noticed him looking at her, she turned her face away.

A flash of lightning across the sky lit up her face for a split second, and Killian could have sworn he saw tear tracks tracing down her cheeks.

It wasn’t until after the rumble of thunder rolled over campus a couple of seconds later that she began to talk.

“I started at the academy here when I was 13, not much older than Henry is. I guess seeing him today brought back some memories of when I first arrived here.”

“I can’t even imagine what that would have been like.” He said, when it became obvious that she wasn’t going to continue. It was so unlike her to open up about anything to him when it came to how she started at the academy, so he was going to have to take it as it came.

“It was lonely.” She said, still not looking at him.

Killian watched a few more bolts of lightning flash across the sky, the air becoming damp and oppressive as the storm continued its advance towards them.

Neither one of them made any move to leave and avoid getting poured on, but Killian wasn’t inclined to leave her alone.

He never could leave her like this.

“I lost everything. Henry gets to keep his family, he gets to go back to his mom, see his dad, and play with his brothers and sister. I got none of that.” She looked over to him, her eyes rimmed in red, and something in Killian’s chest tightened.

She had obviously been out here a while before he had happened upon her.

“My mother disowned me, my father was already long gone, and I haven’t seen my older brother, my best friend and partner in crime, in person in almost ten years. I didn’t get to see him get married and I didn’t get to see the birth of my niece. And it’s not fair.”

Something in her voice cracked when she said “fair”, and Killian wanted desperately to pull her into his arms and give her a hug, but she was so closed off that he didn’t think it would be well received.

At that moment, the heavens decided to open up and the rain came pouring down on the two of them.

Killian looked up at the sky, the rain hitting his face with wet plops that made water run into his eyes and he blinked rapidly to clear them.

Turning to look at Emma, he felt the rain continue to soak into his hair and shirt, and he wondered absently if it would ruin the mechanics in his glove getting them this wet.

Getting a good look at Emma for a second, he had to choke back on a laugh.

“What?” She said, hearing his choked off laugh and turning to face him after looking up at the storm clouds above them as well.

“Sorry, I don’t mean to laugh, truly love. But you’re steaming.” Indeed, little wiffs of steam were rising from where the rain was splattering down onto her bare skin.

He pressed his lips together in an effort to keep himself under some measure of control.

But it seemed to be in vain as a large smile broke out on her face, wiping away the lingering sadness in her expression from their conversation.

“Did I never mention that I may run a bit warmer than a normal person?” She said, chuckling a bit as she asked him.

“No, but that might be a useful thing, considering that I am now soaking wet and cold.” Killian laughed.

“Oh no you don’t, that is entirely your own fault.” Emma said, moving away as he leaned towards her, but it wasn’t in fear of him. No, she could tell he was playing with her.

“Come here and warm me up Emma!” He said, lunging after her.

She leapt off of the wall with stunning speed, darting across the yard in a blur of damp blond hair trailing behind her.

And as he chased her around, moving after her and sliding around in the mud enough to cause them both to burst into further hysterics, something warm bloomed up in his chest.

It felt like the first ray of sunshine after a storm, and he wanted to hold onto that feeling as long as he could.

Wrapping his arms around her from behind as they both went sliding through another patch of mud, Killian pulled her close as he tried to keep them both upright.

They were both laughing as he turned her around to look at him, her arms coming around him in turn.

Something in her expression changed, some of the laughter and lightness transitioning into something curious.

His eyebrows pinched together, getting ready to ask her what she was thinking about when Emma pushed up on her toes and pressed her lips to his.

It was like that first ray of sun, and when the seas are calm and the sky is blue, and that first bite of fresh summer fruit after a long, cold and dark winter.

Her lips were soft against his, and he pressed back, tightening his arms around her and forming his lips more firmly with hers.

They broke apart with a start when a peel of thunder began right above them.

She gave him a tentative smile, and took his hand. “Come on sailor, let’s get you out of the rain.”

o.O.o

The rain had fried some of the electronics in his glove, and he couldn’t move his fingers the next day, but he wouldn’t have changed that night for anything.

[freedom-shamrock]

It Sounds Familiar - Chapter 1

This is the Marichat May prompt, can I pick, Princess?

Also on AO3 Chp 1   Chp 2   Chp 3   Chp 4   Chp 5   Chp 6    Chp 7   Chp 8 Chp 9   Chp 10   Chp 11   Chp 12   Chp 13   Chp 14   Chp 15   Chp 16   Chp 17   Chp 18   Chp 19

Adrien sniffed at the air.  She was back. It was enough to rouse him from his spot in the sun so he could go see her again.  His paws were light, pattering against the concrete, and he felt her reach out with her magic. He closed his eyes and basked in the warmth for a moment.  His father's magic had never felt like this, not even in the days before the bindings and the cuffs. The difference made him curious, but his memories of painful magic were too fresh for him to get too close.

She looked about his age, and that seemed a bit odd.  He'd always heard witches tended to get their familiars around fourteen.  Had she been unable to form a bond with a cat until now? Given her unaided strength, that seemed unlikely.

"Hello lovelies," she said, putting down a little cup of milk for the two strays who'd already approached her.  Moving slowly, she reached into a pocket and pulled out another container. When she opened it, the aroma of chicken filled the air.  

He really missed chicken, but that wasn't enough to draw him in.  She was a witch, and he'd always been warned that witches who were looking for familiars could not be trusted.  The meat was enough to summon Miss Gigi, a bonded familiar who lived in the area. He'd met with the blue eyed Birman cat briefly in passing, but he'd been reluctant to trust her, and she clearly thought he was peculiar.  Elevated cats were probably just as dangerous as their magic users.

"Good evening, madame," the girl said brightly, offering Miss Gigi a bit of the meat, but making no move to touch her.  "I can see you're not for me, but you deserve a treat, too."

Though skittish, the two strays wriggled and pounced in their enthusiasm for fresh meat, a rare find on the streets of Paris.  When Adrien expected the girl to scoop one of them up, she simply reached out to scratch under their chins. Wasn't she supposed to be stealing them away?  If she couldn't afford a purebred or shelter cat, shouldn't she be desperate? That definitely wasn't the vibe she gave off.

He felt eyes on him, and looked down to Miss Gigi who had finished her meat and was watching where he sat in the shadows.  When he met her yellowy eyes, she glanced at the witch and then back at him. She wasn't calling him out, but she was definitely trying to get a message across.

Once the milk and meat were gone, the girl gave out a few more pets before packing away her thermos.  "Thank you for visiting with me," she said, a happy smile on her face. "I'm afraid that none of you are for me."  She nodded to Miss Gigi. "Merry meet, madame." She caressed the strays’ heads. "If you are to end up as familiars, I hope you find good matches."  Dusting off her hands, she slowly stood up.

When the girl was gone, Miss Gigi turned back to him.  "You should keep an eye on that one," she meowed at him.  "She might be just what you need."

He couldn't get the witch girl out of his head.  He'd seen her the last three days, and each time it was the same.  She wandered the alleys until she found a cat or two to… well... visit.  There was no catnip to lure them, something he'd seen with other witchborn.  The milk and morsels weren't tainted, so she wasn't killing off strays or binding them into some sort of army.  It was strangely cordial. She never chased anyone, but let them come to her. He'd seen a particularly skittish kitten lurk three meters away while her littermates scarfed rewards, and instead of compelling the stray, the girl used her magic to deliver a few pieces of meat so the little one wouldn't miss out on a free meal.

He didn't question why he was able to find her again.  He was a black cat, at the moment at least, and he was more than a little sensitive to magic, what with having his own.  He did wonder why he was bothering to stalk her, though. She was looking for a familiar, and she'd made that clear, but what she wanted in that relationship, he couldn't guess. So far, none of the strays had met her requirements, so why would he?

He shook his head, hesitating before continuing on his path in search of the sweet witch.  He didn't want to be a familiar. He'd run away from home five months ago to escape the bindings his father imposed on him.  Why on Gaia, would he seek out permanent magical entanglements? Of course he didn't want to be a familiar. He was a stray, and that's how he'd live until he turned eighteen, or maybe the rest of his life.  It was better this way.

He continued on his way, again hiding himself in the shadows to watch her.  He observed as Miss Gigi proudly strolled into the alley, a short line of strays following behind her.  When the girl bent down with her cup of milk, Miss Gigi nudged the free cats to approach. Adrien grinned, flicking his tongue against his delightfully sharp teeth.  She was trying to help the girl, like some sort of familiar matchmaker. It was adorable.

This time things went a little different, and he held his breath as the girl scooped up a gray tabby from the little clowder.  Had she found her familiar? Why did that make his chest hurt?

"Oh dear," she said softly.  "You have ear mites." She fondled the cat's ears, and looked up to meet Miss Gigi's eyes.  "I'd like to treat his ears. Can you let him know I'm not going to harm him?"

Miss Gigi bobbed her head and let out a series of mrrows.  "Sit still and let the witchling cure your ears. You'll be grateful for it later."

The cat sat docile while the girl dripped a minty smelling potion on his ears.  She waved a hand over his head, and Adrien felt the magic, even from his hiding place.

"There you go," the girl said.  "Good as new." She gently set the cat back down and finished doling out treats.  "Thank you for coming to see me," she told the cats. "And I do appreciate your help, madame."  She bowed to Miss Gigi. "I'm afraid I've got to go." She cleaned up her things, reaching to give Miss Gigi a bit of meat before heading out.

Miss Gigi sat where she was, long after the girl had left.  She looked up to the shadows. "Did you think she was going to pick that Tom?" she meowed.  "How did that feel?"

He took a three hop route down to the alley beside her.  "She wouldn't want me."

"She's powerful, and you're sensitive," Miss Gigi continued.  "You're exactly what she wants."

"Not exactly ," he replied.

"You aren't meant to be a stray," she hissed.  "You're clever and resourceful, I've no doubt you'll handle the winter fine, but this is the wrong life for you."  She stared into his eyes for a moment before turning away. "There is an opportunity before you."

"An opportunity to be enslaved?" he asked.

Miss Gigi laughed.  "That girl will not be enslaving her familiar.  She's looking for a partner, a companion. Are those things you want?"

Adrien was quiet for a moment.  Miss Gigi was defying everything his father claimed witches would do if they found out about him.

"Do you want respect and affection?" Miss Gigi asked.  "For those will be in your future, should you go with that girl."

He stared at his paws a moment.  "How can you be sure? People change."  His father had never been exactly warm to him, but when his mother was still around, he'd seemed fond of Adrien.  That all changed when she left.

"My witch is gifted in reading the currents of time and chance," Miss Gigi said.  "As her familiar, I've a fair paw at seeing." She got to her feet. "Think hard on this child, and don't let it pass by without making an actual decision on it."  She turned and trotted away, her long hair flowing with her movement.

He led the witch on a decent chase to this alley.  It was quiet and empty, and had decent hiding places.  As he'd hoped, she started following him the moment she caught sight of him.

"Here kitty, kitty," she called, her voice light and playful.  

He liked her voice, even though it had haunted his dreams since the first time he saw her, over a week ago.

She closed her eyes, and he felt her magic lightly brush over him.  Smiling happily, she crouched down and pulled out the thermos he'd seen so often.  "Come on kitty. I just want to meet you." There was no lie in her words, and she looked content to wait.

The milk wasn't what interested him as he slowly crept out of the shadows toward her.  

Her eyes popped open.  "Oh," she gasped. "You're gorgeous, aren't you."

He converted years of modeling to his literal cat walk, rolling his shoulder and looking over it at her.

"I suppose you know what a handsome lad you are, huh?"  Her giggles were not the fake or insipid things he'd heard around other models.  "Do all the girls admire you?" she asked, putting down the milk cup.

"Mrrrrow," he agreed, pausing to smell the milk.  Then he reached forward just a bit to sniff at her.

"Such a brave fellow," she praised, slowly extending her hand.  

Her skin was warm against his nose, and he butted his forehead against her fingers. His magic sense kicked into overdrive at her touch.  He could feel that she was a good person, and when she ran her hand over his head, he suddenly remembered the joy in being petted, and he wondered how he'd survived without it for so long.  

"Oh, goodness, you're so soft."  She scratching at his neck, hitting all the best places.  "Don't you know how dangerous it is to prowl the streets with no tag or necklace, Chat Noir?" she asked.

Had she just named him?  It may have been a nickname or term of endearment, but he was suddenly determined get rid of his old name and use the one she'd given him.  He rubbed his head against her forearm, lifting his front paws to her knee in an effort to reach her face. If he became her familiar, he wouldn't be lonely.  He wouldn't have to worry about hiding or finding a place to fit in. He could help her, he was sure of it, though he suspected that was the magic talking.

She ran a hand over his back and drew on her power again as she looked him over.  "Huh." She put a second hand on him. "You have the strangest aura. It's almost as if you're not quite a cat, but at the same time, you really are."

She wasn't wrong, of course.  His witch was so clever, and yes, she was his; he could feel it.  His purr rumbled up in a way it hadn't in years.

She let out a sigh.  "I don't think I can claim you, Chat Noir, but I'd really like to."

His witch was silly.  He'd already decided. He was hers.  Her fingers moved under his chin, and he closed his eyes in pleasure.  

"I don't think I can leave you here, either," she whispered, more to herself.  "It's just not safe for a sweetie like you."

She sounded so concerned.  He crawled into her lap, hoping to ease her mind.

"Ooooh," she sighed.  "I'll bring you home with me, then.  And… I guess if you decide you like me, you can be my familiar, and I can be your witch.  Does that sound okay."

It was more than okay, but she couldn't understand him yet.  So he burrowed close to her and purred.

When she dipped her finger in the milk and offered it to him, he dutifully licked it off. He appreciated the offer, but food was really not the most important thing right now.

She recapped the thermos, tucking it back into her bag, then stood, cradling him in her arms.  "Do you want to stay in my jacket?" she asked. He pressed his whole body against her in response.

"Okay, then."  She tightened her belt to keep him from sliding down, and buttoned the next two buttons.  

Careful not to scratch, he settled in where he could lean against her while peeking out of the front of her coat.  

"I promise, I'm going to take good care of you."

Though she didn't understand it yet, his small "Mow," was an agreement.

I'm going to consider it auspicious that the first chapter of this comes out exactly one year after the first chapter of Something Familiar. This takes us back to the start point to explore a few key moments from that story in Adrien's perspective, so you should be able to read this without reading the other pieces in the series. Though if you like this, maybe go back and read those while you wait for me to get the rest of this out.

[marvelousbirthdays]

Happy Birthday, iamtherealvd!

May 8 - Tasertooth, something sexy, for @iamtherealvd

Written by @ozhawkauthor

A late-breaking request, I decided to continue an already-existing ‘verse for this one. While it was only ever a singleshot ficlet, I always felt like there was more to tell in this story, with literally every date Victor and Darcy try to go on going horribly wrong in some way.

Originally published as one of the Sixty First Dates, the best place to find it is probably here as Chapter 13 in the Collected Tasertooth Ficlets.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/8019208/chapters/18379165

“I do not fucking believe this,” Victor said.

“I guess your third time lucky theory isn’t really panning out, huh,” Darcy murmured, staring up into the sky.

“We are going to have a successful date.” Victor sounded quite determined. “I’m not going to let this stop me, Darcy. If you’ll give me another chance, anyway…”

“It’s all good,” she assured him. “I’m kind of used to being around the superhero crowd now. After hearing some of Pepper’s horror-date stories, this one’s really quite mild.”

“Pterodactyls in Central Park is mild?”

Darcy grinned. “Well, at least it’ll be a good story to tell our grandchildren.”

“... Grandchildren?” Victor looked poleaxed.

“Eventual, hypothetical grandchildren. I mean, we haven’t even had sex yet,” Darcy backtracked hastily.

Victor’s eyes were nearly glowing as he stooped down over the considerable height difference between them to kiss her. “Get down into the subway,” he growled huskily. “I’ll find you later, when it’s all over.”

The kiss had left her a little discombobulated, but she managed a nod before joining the crowd hurrying down into the 81st Street station under the Natural History Museum, where they’d been enjoying their date before the screaming started. Her last glimpse of Victor was of him starting to run towards the park, long coat flowing out behind him almost like an angel’s wings.

Smiling at her whimsy, she took the arm of an old woman struggling a little with the stairs.

“Please, lean on me. Let’s get safely underground and let the supers deal with it.”

*             *             *

This was New York, where supervillains attacked or aliens invaded every few weeks, so the trains were even still running. Darcy took the first one going in the right direction and was back in her apartment less than half an hour later, watching the news.

Once things were over, she tried Victor’s cell, but he must have switched it off. She kept watching the news feeds, looking in vain for a glimpse of him, but he’d long become adept at avoiding cameras.

The knock on her door almost made her jump out of her skin. Leaping to her feet, she hurried to look through the peephole, immediately unfastening the locks and throwing the door open when she saw Victor through the fisheye lens.

“Oh my god, are you all right?” He’d lost his coat somewhere along the way, she saw, along with quite a lot of the shirt he’d been wearing underneath. One sleeve was gone entirely and the other one was just ragged strips hanging from the shoulder seams, rents all over the fabric not doing much to hide his broad chest. “Is that blood?”

“Not mine,” Victor said with a shake of his head, stepping inside the apartment at her urging. Darcy closed and locked the door behind him before turning to look him up and down more thoroughly.

“Take it off.” She gestured at his shirt. “I want to see if you’re hurt.”

“I’m not,” but he obediently stripped the ruined shirt off, letting her take it and throw it in the wastebasket. “One of the flying things tried to grab me off the ground, that’s how my coat got destroyed and my shirt torn. It learned the hard way that I’m not prey. I got a few bruises and scrapes when it dropped me, but they’re already healed up, promise.”

Darcy opened her mouth to ask just how high he’d been dropped from before realising she really didn’t want to know. Closing it again, she inspected Victor’s torso with greedy eyes, ostensibly checking him over for wounds or contusions but really just enjoying the view, she was honest enough to admit to herself privately. He really was quite spectacular, thick with well-defined muscle, broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist in almost as perfect a Dorito triangle as Cap himself.

“Your pants are ripped, too,” she remarked, noticing a long rip below his right knee.

“I could take them off,” Victor said, “if you were okay with me being naked in your apartment, that is.”

Darcy pretended to think. “Hm. I don’t know. Maybe if you got naked, and then I could decide?”

“Minx.” He pretended to stalk her, and she fled, squealing, into her bedroom, Victor right on her heels.

“Darcy,” he said, his voice low and rough, “if you don’t want to take our relationship to the next step, this game needs to stop here.”

“Oh, it’s stopping here.” Darcy turned to face him, pulling her T-shirt off over her head. “Right. Here.” She patted her bed.

“Darcy.” It was a definite growl this time as he prowled forward, towering over her, his eyes glowing an uncanny gold. She showed no fear as she tilted her head up, smiling at him; but then, Victor reminded himself, this was the girl who’d Tasered both Thor and Magneto, the latter one when in full possession of his powers. Darcy was no fool, she knew when it was time to take cover, but she showed no hesitation when the opportunity to take action arose. She knew exactly what she wanted, and apparently what she wanted at this moment was Victor Creed.

He was more than willing to oblige.

[wickedwitch1997]

Katara, of the Fire Nation - Chapter 19

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18  

You get some smut, and you get some smut, EVERYBODY GETS SOME SMUT!!!

The next morning, Katara dresses and heads into Zuko’s room as the sun slowly rises.

“Zuko?” Katara knocks softly on the door, but no one answers, she opens the door and finds the room empty, not even Mai is in the room. Katara looks around and then goes to the hidden door that leads to the office.

Katara finds Zuko slumped over his desk, he is leaning on his arms with his face to the side and a small smile on his lips.

“Zuko,” Katara breathes, placing a hand on his bare shoulder.

Zuko groans as he rolls his head on his arms, he wakes up and then looks to Katara.

“Hey,” he groans, he rubs the sleep from his eyes and sits up.

“Hey,” Zuko sighs, stretching his back.

“That looks better,” Katara says, looking to Zuko’s bare chest and the healing blister, “Another healing session should make things all good.”

Zuko clears his throat and then leans back, exposing his chest to Katara.

“I’m all yours,” Zuko says, lacing his fingers behind his head.

Katara smiles and bends water to her hands, she focuses on healing Zuko’s chest that she doesn’t notice Zuko start to shift uncomfortably, his fingers unlacing and laying in his lap.

When Zuko leaned back and laced his fingers behind his head, he realised that thigs were still pretty stiff down below. Zuko shifts uncomfortably and tries to rearrange himself so his situation isn’t so evident.

“What are you doing?” Katara asks, finally noticing Zuko’s fidgeting.

“Nothing,” he huffs, his cheeks flush red as Katara’s water stops glowing, the tightness in his chest subsides but that doesn’t aid the tightness in his pants.

Unfortunately, Zuko’s fidgeting directs Katara’s attention to his lap.

“Oh,” Katara breathes, her eyes widening in shock as she notices the sizable bulge, “Um.”

Zuko’s cheeks redden even further as Katara takes a step back, pulling the water back into her pouch.

“I’ll, um, I’m going to go,” Katara backs towards the door, “I’ll see you later.”

Katara leaves the office quickly, her cheeks flushed and warm.

At midday Katara changes out of her water tribe blue into Fire Nation black and red as Mai’s father ‘demands’ an audience with Zuko.

“Well,” Zuko sighs, as Katara joins him walking to the throne room, “I wonder what I’m going to be yelled at for, now.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Katara says, wiping her hands from lunch.

Zuko huffs as he enters the throne room and then sits on his throne, Katara stands to his right, leaning on the pillar that holds the coving over the throne.

“Send him in,” Zuko says as Katara folds her arms over her chest.

“My Fire Lord,” Mai’s father greets, he strides into the room as if it was his own, “Thank you for seeing me.”

“You’ve been hassling me for the past week,” Zuko says, the fires in front of him raise in annoyance, “It’s not like I had much choice.”

“Things have been terrible since you’ve become Fire Lord,” Mai’s father says.

“Crime rates has gone down,” Katara says, pushing off the pillar, “there is peace in the fire nation, how can you say that things are terrible?”

“Half of the fire family are in a cell,” Mai’s father says, glaring at Katara, “And there is no sign of a new fire lady.”

“A fire lady?” Zuko echoes.

“You have a water tribe girl as your right hand man,” Mai’s father says, “A place that I am twice as qualified.”

“I trust her,” Zuko says, the fires rising, “That makes her better than you in every way.”

“You were Ozai’s right hand man,” Katara says, “You had his ear and were responsible for many horrible acts under Ozai’s rule, how could we trust you to have the Fire Lord’s best interest at heart.”

“You let this… this girl speak for you?” Mai’s father says, looking at Zuko accusingly, “Do you not have a tongue of your own?”

“I do, but she is doing well enough on her own,” Zuko says the flames rising higher.

“So when do you plan on marrying Mai?” her father asks, “You should firm your grasp on this nation and marry someone.”

“Zuko is seventeen years old,” Katara says, taking a step down the dais, the fire parting as Katara steps past it, “He is your Fire Lord and you have no station or power here and you can’t just try to back him into a corner or manipulate him to your advantage.”

From behind his fires, Zuko rises and watches as Katara sizes up the decorated war general, he cannot deny that as Katara glares Mai’s father, Zuko finds her attractive.

Mai’s father argues with Katara and Zuko for a while before leaving out in a huff.

“Well that was fun,” Zuko sighs, lowering the fires as Katara walks back to his side.

“I’m sorry if it seemed like I was talking for you,” Katara says, she runs her hand through her hair and looks to the Fire Lord.

“You said everything I was thinking,” Zuko says with a smile, “Thank you.”

Katara nods her head, but before she can even think of leaving, Mai bursts through the door angry like a rattle-rhino.

“What did you do?” she demands, hands clenched at her side in rage, “My father is making plans to leave.”

“Finally,” Zuko whispers under his breath as the fires rise in front of him.

“He’s taking me with him!” Mai says, “If you don’t fix this, I will have no choice to leave.”

“Well, then go,” Zuko says coolly, his fires flickering blue for a moment, “You and I haven’t been close for a while now.”

“Zuko, I like you!” Mai says, hissing under her breath.

“You don’t like me,” Zuko sighs, “You haven’t shown me any sign of affection since the war ended, you don’t like me, Mai, you just don’t hate me.”

Mai snarls at Zuko, his fires die out and he strides down to Mai.

“I’m sorry,” Zuko says, “But we’re not right for each other.”

As Mai and Zuko start to argue and scream at each other, Katara slips out the side entrance and returns to her other duties.

Katara sits with Kiki and the other ambassadors for dinner, but the water tribe ambassadors seem on edge and fidgety about sitting and talking with Katara.

“So,” Sikkack, the southern ambassador, says, “We heard a rumour that Zuko and Mai have split.”

“We shouldn’t listen to rumours,” Katara says with a smile as she lifts a bite of food to her mouth.

Katara notices that Kiki and Sikkack ask odd questions, questions that seem to hinge around Zuko and his new standing without Mai’s support.

Katara thinks about the questions the ambassador asked, she goes into the office to look over some papers that Zuko has asked her opinion on.

As Katara puts another paper on her ever growing pile, Zuko walks into to the office and closes the door behind him.

“Mai has finally left,” Zuko says, sighing in relief as he leans back against the door.

“Zuko, I’m sorry,” Katara says, standing from her seat.

“Don’t be,” Zuko says, he offers Katara a smile and then shrugs his shoulders, “I stopped having feelings for her a long time ago.”

“Then why were you with her?” Katara asks, Zuko just shrugs his shoulders and then reaches up to take his cloak off his shoulders, but he winces and lowers his hands.

“Could you help me?” he asks, “It’s still a little... tight.”

Katara smiles and then nods her head, she approaches Zuko and then takes his cloak off, lifting it over his head and then placing it aside.

“Do you mind?” Katara asks, her hand reaching for Zuko’s sash that is tied around his waist, “I want to check it before bed.”

Zuko nods his head, but he doesn’t reach for his sash, instead, he lets Katara unknot it, he watches as she gently pushes his shirt open, her fingers brushing gently against his skin.

Katara heals Zuko’s chest, but once the glow fade Katara doesn’t step back, she stays a hair’s breath away from Zuko’s chest, her fingers still touching him gently, tracing the outline of his blister.

“I heard you,” Zuko says, his voice rough and raggered, Katara’s eyes flick up to his and a brief spark of panic races behind them.

“What do you mean?” Katara asks, she licks her lips and a rumbling sound emits from the back of Zuko’s throat.

“Last night,” Zuko says, he takes a step forward and Katara steps back, she keeps her hand on Zuko’s chest as he prowls towards her, “These walls are very thin, Katara,” Zuko says, keeping his eyes on her, “I heard everything.”

Katara’s heart starts to hammer in her chest, her eyes lowering from Zuko’s gaze as her cheeks flush red.

“I’m sorry,” Katara says, her voice soft as a whisper as she tries to come up with an excuse, “We should have been quieter.”

“We?” Zuko echoes, his eyebrow quirking up.

“I brought someone in,” Katara says, lying as she looks back up to Zuko.

Zuko chuckles softly and the sound vibrates though his chest and up Katara’s arms.

“I heard everything,” Zuko says again, he steps forward again and Katara moves back, but as she takes another step, she finds herself pinned against the desk, “How did your lover feel when you called out my name?” Zuko asks, he places his hands on the desk, trapping Katara in his arms.

Katara’s heart spikes, and Zuko smiles.

“You know, it is illegal to lie to your Fire Lord,” Zuko says, Katara’s eyes flick up to his and then to the golden crown.

“I was alone,” Katara admits, dropping her gaze.

“I know,” Zuko simpers, leaning in to Katara, she keeps her hand right where it is, her arm bending at the elbow as Zuko whispers against her ear, “I’ve been thinking about those noises all day,” Zuko says, his breath warm on Katara’s skin, “It’s made things very difficult.”

“Zuko,” Katara gapes, she puts force behind her hand and Zuko steps back as she pushes him, “What are you doing?”

“I’ve… felt things for you, ever since we were children,” Zuko says, reading Katara’s body and taking a step back to let her breathe.

“Then why did you go to Mai?” Katara asks, feeling her cheeks redden, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I didn’t think you felt the same way,” Zuko says, taking half a step forward, “Mai turned up and just assumed we were still together, I didn’t know how to tell her otherwise. And then anytime I touched you, you seemed to be jumping away, so I backed off.”

“I didn’t want to cause trouble,” Katara says, she looks to her feet and then back up to Zuko’s chest, “I thought your touches were friendly.”

“Then why did you jump?”

“Because I wanted them to be something more,” Katara admits, her eyes finally looking into Zuko’s, “Every time we touched I felt my heart race, I wanted to lean into your touches and it wasn’t right, you were with Mai.”

“I’m not anymore,” Zuko says, taking another step, “I don’t care about her, not as I do for you.”

Katara’s eyelids flutter as Zuko pins her to the desk again.

“When I heard you last night,” Zuko breathes, “I wanted to go in and help you.”

“Help me?” Katara echoes, the hair on her arms stand on end as Zuko’s fingers caress down them.

“I wanted to touch you,” Zuko says, his voice low and sweet.

Katara can feel his breath on her neck, her chest heaves as Zuko returns his hands to the desk, he doesn’t touch Katara, but he stays close.

“So touch me,” Katara finally hears herself say, her voice so sweet and sultry that she hardly recognises it.

Zuko pulls back, as if the desk was burning him, he looks into Katara’s eyes, shocked at Katara’s request.

“Touch me, Zuko,” Katara says, her eyes staying right on him as her breathing becomes raggered.

Zuko is back on Katara faster than a lightning flash, he presses her back against the desk and presses his lips to her’s, his fingers tangle in her hair, pulling it loose from its bun. Zuko presses his entire body against Katara’s so quickly that Katara lets out a soft gasp.

Zuko moans at the sound that Katara makes, his hands cup her face for a moment before he lets her go, stepping back a fraction.

Before Katara can protest, Zuko caresses her cheek, his hand then trails lower, wrapping around her throat for a moment before continuing down.

“You’re wearing too much clothing,” Zuko scowls as his hands brush over the soft material covering Katara’s shoulders.

“Then take them off,” Katara says, her eyes sparking in challenge.

Zuko’s hand fists in Katara’s tunic, bunching it at her hips.

“Come with me,” Zuko says, he steps back and pulls Katara with him, he continues to walk backwards, glancing over his shoulder occasionally as he leads her to her hidden door.

Zuko pushes the door open by practically slamming his weight into it, Katara laughs and follows him through, kicking the door shut behind her.

“Why are we in my room?” Katara asks, as Zuko pulls her back to him.

“Because, when I bed you in mine, I want it to be in a bed that she hasn’t touched,” Zuko says, his voice sends a chill down Katara’s spine.

He doesn’t let Katara say another word, he pulls her back to his lips, his mouth crushing against her’s passionately. Zuko unties Katara’s tunic and looks to her eyes, asking her a silent question.

Katara answers by pushing her tunic off her shoulders, letting it slide down her arms to the floor.

Zuko sees Katara’s chest heaving, she’s nervous.

“Beautiful,” he breathes, caressing Katara’s cheek, “Kat, are you sure.”

“Touch me.” Katara says, her voice strong with enough quip in it to let Zuko know that she will not tell him again.

Zuko’s hand travel south, they trail down her middle, passing over the cloth of her under wrappings, they pass her navel and then dip under the waistband of her leggings.

Katara’s breath hitches and she licks her lips as Zuko’s hand continues down, he presses his hand against her underwear, cupping against her sex.

Zuko watches Katara as she slow blinks, slowly unravelling and pooling in his palm. He removes his hand from her leggings and then pulls her towards her bed. He turns her around and then pushes her down onto the mattress.

Zuko pulls his sash out of the loops in his tunic and then wraps it around Katara’s shoulders, pulling her towards him before letting her go, keeping the sash around her shoulders.

Katara watches as Zuko lets his tunic fall to the ground, she kicks her shoes off as he does and then watches as he prowls towards her like a hungry lion. She wiggles back and Zuko grabs her by the waistband of her leggings, he pulls the leggings down, peeling them off her and then throwing them across the room.

“Take them off,” Zuko says, gesturing to the under wrappings.

Katara keeps her eyes on Zuko’s as she slowly unwraps herself, starting with her chest. She pauses once her chest is bare, she covers herself with her arm and then pushes her wraps aside. Her breath hitches as Zuko licks his lips.

“Show me,” he urges, his eyes alight with lust.

Katara lowers her arm and Zuko lets out a breath, as he does, smoke curls from his nose in tendrils. Zuko waits patiently for Katara to continue, but his body feels as if it’s on fire, burning hotter and hotter as Katara dips her fingers under the waist of her underwear.

Katara finishes undressing herself for Zuko, she sits on the bed, naked and baring all for Zuko to look at.

“Beautiful,” he whispers again, slightly breathless at the sight of Katara’s exposed self.

Katara blushes as Zuko finally kneels on the bed and crawls between Katara’s thighs.

Zuko kisses Katara softer than last time, taking in the taste of her, his tongue flicks past his lips and brushes against her’s. Katara’s lips part and Zuko’s tongue darts in, flicking against the roof of her mouth.

Katara moans against Zuko’s lips, the sound vibrates through Zuko’s entire existence. His hands explore her, cupping her breasts and rubbing over her nipples, his lips leave her’s and trail to her cheek, then to her jaw, and then down to her neck, his teeth skimming over her flesh as she runs her fingers through his hair, careful not to dislodge his crown.

Zuko grumbles as Katara’s fingers become snagged in his pulled back hair, he takes out his crown and throws it to the floor unceremoniously. He purrs against her as his hands go to her backside, grabbing her as she runs her fingers freely through his hair.

Zuko becomes erect, hard as a rock, he show’s Katara how he feels by grinding his erection against her thigh.

Katara’s breath gets caught in her throat, her eyes widen as Zuko grinds into her, the space between her legs tingles, she becomes cold and warm at the same time as her toes curl and her body trembles.

But it’s too fast for her, Katara squirms under Zuko’s touch.

“Stop,” she says, her voice breathless and soft, but Zuko hears it and stops immediately, Katara scrambles away from Zuko and holds herself, embarrassed at her cowardice.

“Are you alright?” Zuko asks, sitting back on his knees in shock.

“I’ve never… I’ve never you know,” Katara’s voice is shaky as she stammers for the words to say, “I’ve never been with a man. It’s just too fast.”

Zuko’s eyes widen as Katara looks away from him, as if she were ashamed.

“Kat,” Zuko soothes, “Kat, I’m sorry, I didn’t think.”

Zuko moves closer to Katara, he puts a finger under her chin and smiles at her, showing that he isn’t mad or upset about her request to stop.

“We can stop,” Zuko says, “If you want.”

Katara takes a breath and then let’s go of herself, “I don’t want to stop,” she says, looking to Zuko, “Just, slow down?”

“We can do that,” Zuko says, smiling sweetly as he moves back to Katara, he kisses her again, slowly and passionately. He trails kisses back down her neck, this time keeping his erection from pressing into Katara again.

Katara’s hands fist in the sheet, she tips her head back as the feeling of pleasure returns.

“Here?” she hears Zuko ask as he slowly touches Katara’s breast.

“Yes,” she breathes, Zuko places a kiss to the soft part of her breast and then takes her nipple in his mouth, his tongue swirls around the bud and he is pleased to hear Katara moan as she did the night before.

“Here?” Zuko asks, his hands slowly going south.

Katara nods her head, and Zuko’s hand keeps going until it rests between the apex of her thighs.

“Here?” he asks again, his eyes flicking up to Katara as he lets her nipple go.

Katara has a hard time getting the word out, but eventually she breathes out and lets the word fall from her lips like a prayer.

“Yes,” she moans, Zuko can feel her heart start to race from where his other hand rests over her sternum, “yes.”

Zuko pushes Katara’s legs further apart and then spreads her slick lips.

“What’s my name?” Zuko asks, wanting to hear her voice tremble as she says his name.

“Zuko.”

Katara whimpers in anticipation, her hips roll and Zuko smiles as he watches her writher in lust. Zuko places a finger between her lips and then rolls it around her sensitive clit. Katara jolts at the touch, her thighs squeeze at Zuko’s side as she moans out a sweet curse.

Zuko smiles triumphantly as he returns to kissing and sucking on her breast, his finger continues to swirl around Katara’s clit, slowly and softly. He adds another finger and Katara is coming undone, her fingers run though his hair and hold him to her, not wanting him to stop.

Zuko stops, Katara lets out a frustrated growl as Zuko kisses Katara’s chest.

“More,” she begs, her hips rolling on Zuko’s still fingers, “Zuko, please.”

Zuko goes down on Katara, her hips buck in surprise as Zuko’s tongue comes in contact with her clit, swirling around it and then flicking against it.

Katara swears under her breath and calls out to the spirits, her hips wriggle under Zuko’s tongue so he has to place a hand over them to keep her still while he draws out his tongues movements.

“Don’t stop,” Katara whimpers, feeling the Fire Lord slow his pace, “Zuko, don’t stop.”

‘Wouldn’t dream of it,’ Zuko thinks to himself as he speeds up, this time slipping a finger into Katara’s wetness.

“Fuck,” he hisses as Katara clamps around him.

“Zuko,” Katara breathes, his name sounding like an ancient prayer on her lips.

Katara’s fingers find his hair again, holding him between her as the pressure builds inside her.

Zuko’s lips curl into a smile as he resumes sucking on Katara’s clit, she relaxes around his finger and he adds another, this time slowly pumping his fingers in and out of Katara’s soaking pussy.

Katara’s legs go over Zuko’s shoulders, her heels dig into his shoulders and can feel heat radiating off of him as his arms wrap around her thighs. Katara pleads for Zuko, turning into a soaking mess under his touch.

With her heels in his back, Katara can feel how Zuko grinds against the sheets, the movement of his hips is intoxicating and erotic, it makes the pressure inside of Katara build as Zuko’s licks become more intense.

“Zuko,” Katara gapes as she feels herself coming close to her climax.

Zuko can feel Katara closing in on her climax, her pussy is soaking and clenching around Zuko’s fingers, wanting to draw him in deeper. Zuko shifts and then lowers his tongue to her entrance, removes his pointer finger and replaces it with his ring finger, he then proceeds to finger Katara in an up and down motion, making her juices squelch around his fingers and drip onto his tongue.

As Katara cries out, her climax hitting her like a wave, Zuko lets out a breath and hot steam hits Katara’s clit, making her orgasm intensify and her body start to convulse.

Zuko smiles and stays in his place until Katara pushes his head away.

Zuko pulls back and goes to his knees, he then removes his fingers form her, and as he does, Katara’s body convulses and a spray of her cum follows his fingers, splashing against Zuko’s tense abdomen.

Katara’s eyes widen in silent horror, she covers her mouth in shock and her face pales.

Zuko’s eyes widen in absolute fascination, he looks down to where Katara’s cum gleams on his stomach and the waist band of his pants. Zuko smiles as he looks back to Katara, her body still quivers from her orgasm, her pussy continuing to clench uncontrollably.

“That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” Zuko laughs.

At the sound of Zuko’s laughter, Katara lowers her hands and giggles sheepishly as Zuko lays down next to Katara.

“What about you?” Katara asks, her eyes flicking to the bulge in Zuko’s pants.

“Don’t worry about it,” Zuko says, huffing as he catches his breath.

Zuko puts one arm behind his head and then looks down to where Katara’s cum still gleams on him.

“Fuck,” he breathes, his other hand goes to the wetness and dip into it, he swirls it around his with his fingers and Katara watches in abject fascination.

Katara bites her lip and then watches as Zuko’s hand goes under his pants, his hand rub Katara’s cum onto his cock and he moans out happily.

“I want to touch you,” Katara says, her eyes alight with wonder. Zuko looks to her and then he removes his hands from his pants.

“You don’t have to.”

Katara ignores him, she places her hand on Zuko’s abdomen, she pushes her cum down into his pants to the base of Zuko’s rock hard cock.

“Kat,” Zuko hisses when Katara grabs him.

Katara shifts and presses up against Zuko’s body and then strokes her hand upwards.

“Fuck,” Zuko hisses, he pushes his pants down off his hips until his cock springs free.

Katara’s eyes widen as she sees the stiff member in her hand, it is slick with pre-cum. Katara pulls her hand down the length of him and Zuko tips his head back in contempt.

Katara’s pace fastens, her eyes watching her hand as it slides up and down Zuko’s engorged cock.

“Harder,” Zuko moans, Katara tightens her hold and listens as the Fire Lord becomes weak under he hand.

“Kat,” Zuko warns as he feels his balls tighten, “I’m…”

But Zuko can’t get out the rest of his warning, his cock erupts and thick ropes of cum splash up onto his abdomen, mixing with Katara’s juices that are already there.

Katara watches in amazement, she slows her hand and watches as Zuko empties himself, her hand catches some of the white substance on them and when Zuko is done, Katara lifts the substance to her lips.

“Kat,” Zuko warns, through gritted teeth as he watches Katara, “You don’t have to do that.”

Katara holds Zuko’s stare as she pops her cum covered finger into her mouth, sucking it clean.

“It’s sweet,” Katara notes, letting her now clean finger pop out of her her mouth.  

Zuko tips his head back and lets out a foul curse as Katara grabs a towel from her bedside table.

“You will be the death of me,” Zuko says, taking the towel and cleaning the fluids from his abdomen and chest.

“Are they always that big?” Katara asks, watching as Zuko wipes his cock gently.

“No,” Zuko says with a proud smile as he notices Katara’s wide eyes, “I am above average.”

@squishysuho @the-weird-fob-fangirl@thegaang6@pepewntz@solidaritree@waitingtillthesmilescomeback@miraculoushipping@auzlon@tiernanka@lovelylittleladyl@standby-reality    @beealexageek @danielslilangel

[haleruby]

Slipping Through Your Fingers (3)

Characters/Pairings: established Mal/Evie*, eventual Mal/Evie/Reader* (Quim), Reader & the Rotten Four, Reader & Carlos, side Jaylos*.

*In the flashback, there are not really any “/” relationships more so “&”, iirc, but the start of feelings will be present for all ships.

>This part is Mal centric with you meeting Mal, platonic Jal, and hinted Jaylos.

(^Evie checking her nails in the background made me smile. They all have such badass shoes too.)

Summary: Mal’s visit to the condemned part of the Isle leaves her with more than just potential items to trade. A near death experience, a new friend (?), a pocket watch, and so many questions…?

Word Count: 4.2k

Notes: I am using a sideblog that is empty and not tagging bc this is only for your eyes, so no need to reblog/like, etc.

*chanting* Flashback, flashback, flashback…Please keep in mind the Rotten Four are not quite ride or die yet; the flashback section is not only about Shadow, but also how the four of them grow closer with time. The flashback is 13 to 74 memo-wise, so you will be able to tell when we get back to present time bc Shadow will react to Carlos in the dorm hall, but that will be in a while…

(This chapter is 13 to 18 memo-wise for context).

Also, as you know, I adapted the rules of the Isle and how the four met to a slight degree. Annnnd made up a section of the Isle among other things; it be like that sometimes. XD

- - - - -

Mal should not be jumping at shadows. Another distant noise sounds that could be a branch hitting against something or the rusted metal she is traversing settling, except her mind briefly conjures up something with claws following her. Exploring the condemned part of the Isle to score items for bartering was a good idea...In theory. She could get an edge over the other kids, could claim this area as another addition to her territory, and could get a boost in reputation for not only having survived, but thrived, if this goes successfully... That is a big if. Another gust of wind causes the old warehouse to positively groan as the holes, fissures, and cracks are filled with rushing air; it makes it seem alive for a moment. She has to kneel to keep her footing on the metal walkway that sways ever so slightly. Another sound makes her tense further until her mind supplies that it was a hoot from an owl, not a prowling creature or an odd, deformity riddled being that are alleged to dwell in this complex from the rumors and whispers. A white knuckled grip on one of the semi-intact rails is released, her palm comes away grimy from the rust and age. Get a grip. Mal is better than this. She is the daughter of the Mistress of All Evil and that comes with expectations. Her small satchel has her dagger and a few odds and ends she has picked up so far; however, she plans to do a sweep of all the levels. The condemned part of the Isle has a few skeletons of warehouses, some sort of obscure facility, and other buildings Mal has yet to place. A small hole in the barb wired fence allowed her to slip into the depressing premises. The state of decay found on the Isle is accelerated in this place likely because no one tries to somewhat keep it up or inhabit it. There is no grass, but gray-white gravel that would crunch under even the most light footed of individuals. The trees are more like thin sticks that were cobbled together and lack any leaves. Any color or street art is lacking and what once decorated the walls has since faded into indistinct ghosts of the former hues. The air seems heavier here and cooler than elsewhere on the Isle. It's creepy. Mal prides herself on being a cause of fear as opposed to someone who feels it, but this place does put her on edge. Teaming up with Jay crossed her mind due to his skills and having an extra set of eyes, but with eyes comes hands, so she discarded the idea. This area has not been mapped out, which means there is a preemptive advantage. Repeating the logic of that reasoning busies her as another walkway is crossed carefully, before metal gives way to slats of wood that look suspect considering the state of everything else, but they hold her weight. An office or store room could be made out from the ground floor, and that is the end goal. Only one more level to go, and then-. Chains suddenly rattling diverts her attention; a groan from the wind did not coincide with the noise.

The flickering circular beam of her lantern does not help with gauging things that are far away, but she still raises it above her head to extend the pool of light. It is too dusky to make anything out... Rationalizing kicks in before her imagination can in an effort to keep a level head: it could have been a mouse or bat, it could have been the rusty death trap settling again, it could have been one of the ancient pulleys finally giving way, and it could be nothing at all that would threaten her. Mal unfreezes after completing the list of possible reasons for that noise. Steps continue, though they are more measured. Green eyes squint when another catwalk is completed since the end of it leads to stairs that are not caked in rust or a worn out gray steel, but look like they were made out of coal. Ebony coats the banister and each individual step like a residue of ink; why are they black? It is the last obstacle between her and the overseer's office that probably has the best stuff in the entire warehouse. Drawing a metal measuring stick she snagged off a workbench from her satchel, Mal prods the bottom most step as a test. Nothing happens. "Anticlimactic," she mutters. Her voice sounds small within the vast, desolate space, it provides some much needed familiarity. If anything her reactions to this place spurs her to come back, because she needs to be without fear and stronger than a creepy abandoned building. "Come on." That was not so much encouragement as it was a self-directed order. Something falling somewhere below is chalked up to the wind as opposed to a warning. Her foot momentarily settles on the bottom step. Another step is quickly taken at the hesitation that would cause her mother to look at her in disdain, if she even bothered to look at all. Mal is now fully on the staircase, and that is when it all goes wrong. Small prickles of numbness set in like when her foot falls asleep from being in an awkward position for too long, before the soles of her feet feel disconnected from her body. Snapping her head to look down just reveals her leather boots that--Wait, they are more black than usual. There is something on her. The feeling infiltrates further up her feet to her ankles in an odd sensation of something being there but not quite that has her clumsily getting off the steps in a rush, almost tripping because it feels wrong. "Fuck!" Mal curses loudly. The darkness is going to eat her. Mal is backing up so quickly from the staircase to try and regain feeling in her lower legs that the dead end of the catwalk is forgotten. The sound of metal snapping is not registered because she is trying to scrape off whatever is latched on to her feet, until she feels something behind her give way. There was a rail there, but not anymore...Oh. The panic to her thought process suddenly ebbs away as the clarity of what happened is reinforced by falling backwards. Even if she survives the fall, who would come looking for her? Her mother pays her no mind aside from the occasional judgment or test that always has her coming up short. Jay is...Her trading partner, not really a friend, because attachments are weaknesses. The little runt, Carlos, is scared of her and she only sees him in passing with Jay; they hardly talk.  She does not have anyone. The cold air snatches at her as she plummets a short distance, until it feels like it is coalescing into something else. Her eyes that were screwed shut, as if that would lessen the brutal impact, now crack open slightly. There should be an addition of a Mal shaped splatter to the dirty concrete flooring, instead she feels herself set down on it with more gentleness than she has probably been showed her entire life. What...?

Her heart is pounding, threatening to break free of her rib cage and her breathing is uneven and quick after the fall that she can clearly track from her new position on the ground level. She was up there and is now down here. Mal's eyes dart between the two positions, mind working to try and make it make sense. Motion in her peripheral vision has her scrambling away reflexively on her hands and knees; the lack of dignity of this retreat can be considered later. She lost her lantern, but a portion of the roof is missing so shafts of moonlight chases away the ever present gloom in this area. A shadow. Tendrils of darkness break off lazily before rejoining the central mass that is vaguely humanoid, if a person was dipped in viscous tar. Where are its eyes...? The dark figure slowly rises from a kneeling position, retreating to sit a distance away to remain on the same level as her, though she is certain if it stood, it would be taller than her. There is no move to rush or attack her, but Mal's eyes still flash a glowing emerald in warning. It is hard to gauge a reaction from the thing, but it feels like she is being assessed. Mal is simply staring, even though she should be running. A sudden brightness draws her attention to the side. The lantern sits undisturbed by the tendrils that just brought it back that now slink away to their owner, the yellow light glints off of something shiny too. Curiosity threatens to splice through the survival mode that is slowly dwindling to allow her heart beat to fall and breaths to occur more normally. Mal shifts to her knees now that feeling has returned to her feet and ankles, before she stands shakily. The dagger is pulled out smoothly from the satchel and directed at the figure, the slight tremor to her hand likely undermines any warning. "Try anything, and I'll hurt you." There is no response. Retrieving the lantern occurs quickly along with a glinting pocket watch that would be worth a ton at the bazaar, or help facilitate a great trade with Jay. Why was she given this? The reasoning is questioned, but this is the Isle and survival comes first, so of course the item is pocketed without a second thought. Keeping the possible threat within her line of sight is important. She did not navigate up the ramps, stairs, and walkways from this part of the warehouse; however, she can figure it out while also walking stiltedly in an effort to not turn her back on the shadow that still sits there calmly. She needs an exit. "Stay there," she warns lowly. Mal makes it to the crack in the loading door area, shimming under it so quickly, she scrapes her arms on some on the abrasive gravel on the other side. As soon as she is out in the yard, she runs. The daughter of Maleficent should be the one to inspire the running, but now she is a teen, who is shaken from a near death experience and the thing that cared enough to save her. . . . . . . "I don't care about quantity, I want quality" "Mal, you are driving a hard bargain" "How many of-" A button is pressed to allow the metallic face of the watch to flip open with ease revealing the beautiful ivory watch face inside, "-these do you have again?" Mal poses the question curiously. Green eyes flick to Carlos who is eyeing the watch like it is some kind of modern marvel. The blond said something about gear springs, semi-automated parts, and other mechanical words, but she just wants a good trade from Jay, not an explanation of the device's intricacies. "So, I want it all or nothing." That easy grin is still in place, though it tightens slightly around the edges; he knows his father would regret this slipping away, even if they are giving up a lot. "Okay, ok fine, it's a deal," he relents. A finely carved box of metal is slid over with a few treasures from their wares handpicked by Mal nestled inside. A wicked smile is given as the items exchange hands. "Can I just hold it?" Carlos requests it meekly, though there is an eagerness to his expression. "Please?"

"What are ya gonna give me for it, if I let you?" "Uhm..." Carlos being at a loss of what to say in reply is price enough; that was a cute face. The watch is handed over with a chuckle. Jay is swift and has very sticky fingers, plus he knows the blond would never try and steal from him, let alone anyone else, which is probably why he is viewed as a runt out of the other villain kids. "Sooo," The word is drawled out to slow down Mal's movements to pack up after doing business; sometimes she will linger and they can chat, "-where did you get a score like that?" "It even keeps track of the month..." Carlos mumbles in awe, messing with the knobs. "Like I'm going to reveal my source?" "There is talk you braved the condemned area," Jay quips back. He did not personally hear the boasting, but has caught enough whispers and rumors from others that indicate she somehow managed to survive it and is now saying it is her area. Reputation is hard to gain on the Isle, unless you come from a first rate villain, but even then kids can be cruel and you need to prove yourself. Mal happens to be good at both. "Wouldn't take a genius-" A nudge is given to Carlos, who is engrossed in figuring out the features of the watch, "-to figure it out." "You know how big the condemned area is," she reasons. Imagining Jay going in that place and not making it out like she did causes a bolt of something to shoot down her spine, even if she is not attached... "You know how I operate. I would not have done the reveal unless the area was already scouted and picked clean, plus it's mine, so back off." The threat seems odd directed at her trading partner, but it is for his own good. There is no further pause in collecting her things, before she strides out of the empty classroom, ignoring the way she can feel them both watching her. . . . . . . Mal is not sure why she came back... The need to prove herself after the fear that gripped her last time was the stated reasoning behind it, but there is a burning curiosity beneath the need to overcome this supposed self-imposed test. It has been a week since she last ventured to the condemned part of the Isle. The increased infamy that causes students to part for her more abruptly and a single glance to constitute a warning is still being enjoyed. Mal did survive whatever horrors that are supposed to be contained here, but only barely. Previously the whispers of this place where like old tales or vague warnings, but now it is an actual topic of hushed conversation. A part of her regrets going through with her plan, because now there is more interest in a place that was somewhat forgotten. Not that she cares about her fellow students... The shadow thing did save her, so drawing attention to its place of residence did leave her with an inkling of guilt. She has not told anyone about it, aside from reinforcing the area is her's by tagging it with her trademark graffiti. It is doubtful anyone would get close enough to see the distinctive purple, black, and green shape of Maleficent's cowl with the words 'Long Live Evil', but if they do, it serves as an additional deterrent along with the overall dreary atmosphere. Special care was taken to not tag the warehouse the shadow is in, but a rusted truck, sides of other buildings, and old signs were all fair game, though she still felt like she was being observed the whole time. Now she is back in front of the loading dock...

The lantern is slid under first, before she slips under the garage bay door with little resistance. She freezes just within the confines of the space, still lingering near the exit that decreases in usability the further she gets from it, before willing her feet to take the first few tentative steps. Overcoming this is important for her future ability to be fearless, right? Avoiding climbing anything too high seems like a good plan in case the shadow is feeling less charitable, so she sticks to the sprawling ground floor inspecting things and nooks that were glanced over the first time. Mal still can't figure out what this place was used for... There are enough empty hanging hooks and vaguely torture chamber looking devices for her imagination to supply macabre ideas. Pulleys suspend chains that feed to a few machines, making it appear more like a shop floor. There are racks and racks of boxes piled along one side, but the crates are sealed shut and would need to be pried open. A crunch of glass underfoot has her pausing in trying to puzzle out what a machine could be used for to see she stepped on some glasses. Picking them up, Mal inspects the black frames that allude to people having been here at one point...But what happened to them? Her mind goes to the shadow. The figure has yet to make an appearance, considering how they left things last time, she can't really say she expected otherwise. Mal knows what she saw...But not seeing it again is casting a little doubt on what happened. The sound of the wind causing the usual creaks and groans draws her attention to behind her, but nothing looks out of place. Maybe she should be proactive? Waiting for it to reveal itself may lead to nothing happening at all. "I know you're here somewhere..." Mal calls out. Again another stretch of silence, but this one feels more charged. "Come out now." That gets a reaction. "Damn! How did you know?" The question is asked in genuine surprise, but also admiration. Mal jumps at the familiar voice that comes from the end of the short conveyor belt that leads to the machine she is near. "Jay?!" She half exclaims the name. Realizing she was being tailed by a master class thief would explain the few wary glances over her shoulder, but that was attributed to being on edge about the shadow. He is not who she wanted to see at all tonight. "Yeah, who did you expect?" "You shouldn't be here!" The question is ignored, her tone has a seriousness that goes beyond wanting to safeguard territory. "Leave." "I'm not moving in on you, just wanted to see is all. Carlos would love this place." His grin falters ever so slightly at the way Mal is regarding him tensely, because he did think they were kind of...friends beneath the bartering. Why is she so worked up over this? He moves around the end of the conveyor belt, taking a step towards her to show his empty hands that have not pinched or taken anything. "Seriously, don't worry," he assures. "That's not why-" The thudding weight of chains crashing into the length of the conveyor belt causes it to buckle under the pressure with a metallic shriek. Rusted metal links now serve as a divider between the two. The air seems to have grown colder too, and yet no draft has rocked the old structure. Was that a warning...? "Wow," Jay comments with a low whistle. She can feel the tension that must allude to latent magic, even if it was supposed to be banned from the Isle; this is not natural. The warehouse didn't feel like this before and only one thing has changed: Jay's presence. "You seriously need to go."

Dark brown eyes glance up at the ceiling in scrutiny, trying to figure out what just happened. "This place is a death trap." His steps hasten to reach Mal, so he can retrieve the stubborn girl, who wants to remain in a place that was clearly condemned for a reason just because of a reputation boost. "Come on." Before his hand can reach her, a tendril of black lashes out like a viper from the shadow cast by the bulk of the machine; it coils ready to strike, locked in on the twitches and movements of his hand, but ultimately waits only inches away. "What the Hell?!" Mal is on guard, glancing around the space for the figure, but it would be hard to spot where they are now. "Take a step back," she requests. "You're doing this, I-?" "No, just let me see something," Mal interjects. A step away from Mal correlates to the tendril losing the prior tension that would surpass a coiled spring, though it remains at the ready between them like an affronted snake. Is it protective...? Her own magic is not threatened, even though it should be with that right in front of her. "He's not going to hurt me. He is my-" She almost said friend without thinking, but tamps down that sentiment, "-is someone I know from school and from trading," she recovers relatively quickly. Her mind works to contain this potentially dangerous situation; they are out of their element and lack home field advantage with a thing that ignores the rules of the Isle. "We won't hurt you either, if you don't hurt us..." "Who are you talking to???" Jay stage whispers. "Something else lives here." "...Something?" Mal elects not to respond. She could not explain it even if she wanted to, instead the tendril is observed as it lowers tentatively before dissolving away completely. The coldness remains, but there is no more living darkness present. Green eyes again rove the area, snagging on the catwalks and ramps that can just be made out with the lantern light to see if the shadow is around, but it's hard to tell. "Mal, explain."  "I don't owe you an explanation. You followed me," she counters firmly at the expectation plain on his face. Jay made her worry and she should not be worrying. "I already told you: something else is here with us, and it obviously favors me to you, so you need to be careful." Is that a stretch? Maybe, but she does not want him traipsing through this area without her, since she is the one that managed to calm, or at least mollify, the figure that lives here. "Yeah, but what and where and why?" "A shadow, all around here, and I don't know." Though sarcasm laces the answers to his rapid fire questions, Jay is undeterred because now he gets why she was reacting that way earlier; she was looking out for him. The two may not be typical friends, but they have an understanding and will keep tabs on each other. But still...How is this possible? "A shadow?" He repeats the term slowly, brows curving up in confusion. "You must have been real bored to make up an imaginary friend." The joke feels a little forced to his own ears, but retaining that ease--that grin is needed. "It almost took your hand off; there is nothing imaginary about it."  "Could be a trick of light, or, like, shadow," he brushes off the comment, though he did move away from the shadows cast by the machine as a precaution. "You trying to scare me as a prank? A shadow?" Jay repeats again in disbelief. "Don't be more idiotic than usual..."

"Make it show itself then, if it's allied to you—your minion." Mal grits her teeth at the challenge that was just issued by Jay; it does not set her on edge because he is not a real adversary or combatant, but there is some mutual respect, so she does not want to fail. "I called it off you, didn't I?" She asks the question rhetorically. "You really want to test both of us?" A step forward is taken. Physically she knows she cannot intimidate the guy, who was the only one not to immediately back off from the daughter of Maleficent and all that title entailed when they first began school. Plus, he is way taller, but her glower still holds an unsettling intensity. Jay shrugs, but does not commit one way or the other. A third party decides the lukewarm standoff. Darkness seeps up from the ground like a small, sluggish spout of oil was just struck between the pair, prompting Jay to give it a wide berth, while Mal stands her ground. An object eventually impedes the flow, before the tendrils leave. The two pause looking at each other and then the rock, before Mal plucks it from the ground and turns it over in her palm. It isn't just a rock. "It's even purple..." Jay mumbles the observation. A geode takes up the majority of her palm. While it looked like a plain, brown spherical rock initially, turning it around allowed the crystal interior to catch the light revealing shards of lavender protruding from the interior like mini stalagmites. It's pretty. The comment about the color takes a moment to register, but he is right... There was thought put into this...gift, peace offering, tribute...? Mal questions how she is referring to the figure for a second, if it is capable of a thought process like this, which may seem inane, but shows attention to detail—attention to her. "See?" She raises the rock, no longer using 'it' or 'the shadow', but giving something in return: a name. "Shadow is real."

End Note: Pretty sure the next section has a few weeks time skip (with explanation of what happens during them) bc I want to bring Evie into the fold and have the Rotten Four grow closer so...I haven’t gotten to editing them yet, but I did skim some of them.

A Mal and Shadow scene fluff turned angst, a Rotten Four scene <3, and Carlos & Evie is my guess for next chap.

[macadoodle1996]

Evanna's roommates quickly grew used to her posh attitudes, while Evanna quickly took to their up-to-date fashions. She quickly figured out the spells to transform one's outfits into something like that week's Witch's Weekly and if she couldn't figure it out, then she used her allowance to place owl orders. Soon, her wardrobe was close to overflowing, but there was luckily two extra in the room that was meant to house a greater number of students.

She, luckily, did not hear any more murderous voices, though she unfortunately had not received a letter back from her mother yet. Her father, however, had sent a missive. Seeing her father's austere handwriting instead of her mother's elegant scrawl, Evanna had quickly dismissed herself from the breakfast table.

"Pardon me," she said to Elin. "I've a letter-I'm going to go read this before Potions begins-"

"Why not read it here?" Eva said, swallowing her sausage quickly. Evanna crinkled her nose, not really sure of how to explain her reluctance to read something from her father around others and not really sure if she wanted to anyway.

"Oh, leave off it," Elin said. "She's allowed some privacy."

Evanna nodded gratefully and took off down the corridor until she came to an out of the way alcove and settled in, heart thumping uncomfortably as though she was facing down one of her father's nastier training sessions.

Evanna,

Draco tells me you were Sorted into Slytherin and I must commend you on that. However, I have also heard some disturbing reports about who you have chosen to befriend-I hope that as you settle into the school you learn to be a little more discerning with your acquaintanceships. Do not make me regret not having you be tutored in the Manor.

I have made certain plans for Hogwarts this school year. I hope for your sake that you are keeping apprised of goings-on. You are well-trained and intelligent-you may be of some use as you come into your powers. Keep your eyes open and you will do well, Evanna.

Your mother has not been feeling well, and is thus unable to answer your letter. You may direct any inquiries to me.

Sincerely,

Your Father

Evanna cursed soundly under her breath, using some new words she had learned from Eva, as she stashed the letter into her bag.

"Oh, dear," a dreamy voice said beside her. Evanna jumped, having thought that she was alone in the little alcove, but Luna Lovegood had come to sit with her. "Have you been bitten?"

"Excuse me?" Evanna demanded, offended. Was the Ravenclaw asking if she was a werewolf or something?

"Well, this corridor is positively teeming with nargles, and now you are frowning and cursing," the blonde explained as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

Evanna blinked. She had now known the other girl for three weeks, and was still getting used to the flights of fancy she seemed to be prone to. Yet, Evanna couldn't help but enjoy her presence. Though she had learned to get along with her roommates, Luna had been the first and only person at Hogwarts to always treat her kindly.

"Oh-er-I don't think so," she said. "I just received a letter from my father. He's saying that my mother is unable to return letters right now, but I had a question for her that I really wanted answered."

"Oh," Luna said. "What about? Ravenclaws are quite good at answering questions, you know."

Evanna smiled. "I'm not sure you would know the answer, unless you're some sort of medi-witch."

Luna frowned, looking at the floor. Evanna followed her gaze. "Hmm, unfortunately, I am not-"

"Where are your shoes?" Evanna asked, blinking in surprise at her friend's stocking covered feet. For the first time since Evanna had met her, Luna seemed to lose that ethereal air about her, her face becoming a sort of blotchy pink.

"Well-I'm sure they just found it a laugh-there's no real harm in it-I like walking barefoot any way," the other girl mumbled. Evanna frowned, feeling anger stirring inside her.

My Housemates don't like me.

"Did your Housemates steal your shoes, Luna?" she asked.

"It was just a joke-"

"Do you know who specifically?"

"Really, Evanna it's not-"

At that moment, students began pouring from the Great Hall and Evanna cursed, knowing she wouldn't get the information from Luna now. Instead, she quickly pulled her magazine out of her bag and flipped to a page where she had giggled at a pair of bright turquoise Mary-Janes, but she couldn't imagine any other shoes suiting Luna Lovegood nearly as well. Narrowing her eyes, Evanna carefully did the incantation that the magazine suggested and performed the wand movements at Luna's feet.

"Stitching is a little wonky," Evanna sighed. That was her constant mistake. "But, those should get you through the day-oof."

Evanna was not expecting it when the other girl launched herself into a tight hug. Evanna sat frozen; the Malfoys were hardly openly affectionate, especially in public.

"Thank you! I can't believe all the other Ravenclaws say you Slytherins are mean-you've been the nicest person to me all year," Luna said. Evanna blinked. 'Nice' was also not an adjective used to describe Malfoys.

"Do me a favor, Luna," she said slowly.

"Whatever you need!"

"Don't tell your Housemates that," she said. "In fact, tell them that I am as mean as they come."

Luna blinked. "Well alright, but-"

"I've got to go, I've Potions first thing," Evanna said, quickly losing herself in the crowds of students. She would have to figure out who had stolen her friend's shoes some other way.

Evanna marched right up to Ginny Weasley as soon as she reached the Potions classroom, walking as though she owned the school. The Weasley girl jerked in surprise as Evanna plopped into the seat beside her just as Colin Creevey was pulling it out for himself.

"Why, thank you, Creevey," Evanna said with a sneer. "Now, move along. I believe some of your kind are on the other side of the room."

Creevey looked mildly terrified as he scurried off to the rest of the Gryffindors. Weasley was fuming.

"What did you do that for? He's my friend!"

"I thought I was, too, on the train," Evanna said, carefully pulling out her potions kit and setting out the ingredients she would need for the day.

"Well-you said that you-but now you're-and what do mean, some of Colin's kind?"

Weasley had a look of righteous indignation on her face. Evanna blinked.

"Don't you think he's more comfortable over there with the half bloods and muggle borns?" Evanna asked, pitching her voice low.

"No, I don't! I think he was perfectly fine sitting by me and it's no bloody wonder that you ended up in Sly-"

"Look, I didn't sit here to argue about Creevey," Evanna said dismissively. "Someone has been stealing Luna's things. I assume you're still friends with her?"

Weasley's face darkened. "Stealing her things-but why? How?"

Evanna quickly described what had gone down in front of the Great Hall. Weasley was fuming as well by the end of it, and Evanna knew she had succeeded in her mission. But, it was then that Professor Snape swept into the room, the door slamming behind him, causing all the Gryffindors to immediately silence their conversations and sit up while the Slytherins smirked at the effect their Head of House had on the brave lions.

As the professor called role, his eyes narrowed ever so briefly at Evanna's new choice of seat before he waved his wand at the blackboard and instructions appeared.

"Begin," he intoned. There was a rush for ingredients and cauldrons that hid any voices for a moment."

"Whatever you're planning to do to them," Weasley said. "I'm in."

Evanna grinned. "Firstly, we need to figure out who the scoundrels are."

"Scoundrels?"

Professor Snape prowled past them then and the girls were quiet for the rest of the period. The professor held Evanna back at the end of class.

"Interesting seat mate you chose today, Ms. Malfoy," he said nonchalantly. Evanna narrowed her eyes. Had her Head of House been making reports to her father? "Ms. Weasley is not quite the potioneer I'd expect you would want to partner with."

"Well, I like a challenge," Evanna replied loftily.

"Hmm," Professor Snape responded. "And what happened over the weekend, that was not challenging enough?"

Evanna's heart thumped a little harder. "What happened over the weekend was-was-just stress of starting a new school, I'm sure. Have you heard anything about my mother?"

The professor blinked eyes going wide before they quickly shuttered.

What does she know?

"Your mother?" he said slowly.

"Yes, my mother," Evanna replied. "Only she was supposed to write me after dropping me off at the train station-there was an incident-but only Father has written me since I arrived and he's saying that she's not feeling well."

Her Head of House looked troubled. "I've not heard anything of Mrs. Malfoy being ill, certainly not ill enough to-" he cleared his throat. "I am sure your father is perhaps being a little overzealous. It is time for your Herbology lesson, is it not?"

Evanna bit her lip, looking at the open door. The hallway looked empty. "My father usually allows the House Elves to take care of my mother-even when she had dragon pox. I've not heard from her in a week and-and I'm a bit worried, sir."

Something seemed to go a little soft in Professor Snape's eyes, something that was a rare occurrence, Evanna was sure. "I am unsure-"

"Could you check in on her?" Evanna said before she lost her nerve. "Please?"

The professor seemed to swallow. "Yes-I of course. Now get on to class."

[jessyurahara]

Each Secret - Mamoru Kishi- Chapter 9

Previous Chapter/ Next Chapter

Chapter 1/Chapter 2/ Chapter 3/ Chapter 4/ Chapter 5 /Chapter 6/ Chapter 7/ Chapter 8/ Chapter 9/Chapter 10/ Chapter 11/ Chapter 12/ Chapter 13 (The Finale)

You found yourself singing as you walked down the corridor, a bright smile on your face, you’d been a pleasure to be around since you’d confessed to Mamoru, since he’d kissed you, you hadn’t told Mai or Rei yet, you weren’t quite ready to jinx things yet. Rei was following along behind you, growing more and more frustrated with your singing as you skipped down the corridor carrying boxes, you were walking through the junior side of your high school, and she hadn’t had the chance to go down there yet, to admire all of the new students. 

“Have you really thought this through? Is he really the one for you?” You sang to yourself as you walked down the corridor, Rei growing more and more frustrated with each moment, 

“Hey” Mai called out to you, and you glanced back at her, slowing down your skipping and falling back into pace with her, trying to calm down your happiness and excitement, 

“All this singing is annoying, you have to be quieter” Rei commented with a small smile, she was glad you were happy, but apparently your happiness made you a little bit more annoying to hang out with. She felt as though you had a boyfriend, but you hadn't said anything just yet so she was going to leave you until you felt like you could tell her, 

“Oh sorry” You apologised while Rei looked around the hallways, she had already noticed that the younger students were watching the two of you, 

“Besides, I’m on the prowl for cute new students, and you’re distracting me,” she said as she shoots a wink in the direction of one of the cuter looking underclassmen, 

“I finally got a chance to come to the junior high division” she commented, smirking at you, a flush going over her cheeks as she noticed one checking her out. Meanwhile, all you were doing is thinking about how you didn’t need to check them out because you had Mamoru and you were in love with him, 

“Oh! Look! That guy is super hot!” You laughed out loud at Rei’s comment and turned to face her, stopping your walk for a moment, 

“Are you saying that-“ You stopped mid-sentence as you followed her gaze. 

Mamoru. 

He was the one she thought was attractive. But why? Why was he in the junior school, walking around and talking with them, he looked so much taller than them, so much cooler than them, and yet, there he was casually strolling with them by his side. High school students hardly come down here, and he looked so comfortable and seemed to fit in well with the students. 

You and Rei leant against the wall, and you could hear him as he walked past talking with the boys next to him, 

“Lately, I’ve developed an interest in older women” one of the juniors next to him commented, 

“What about you Kishi?” The other one asked, looking up at him, admiration lining his eyes, 

“I don’t like older women” 

He knew your name, he had to know how old you were? Why? 

“He says he doesn’t like older women” Rei groaned out, as Mamoru turned down a different corridor. 

“I get it now” You commented looking down towards the ground, tears building up in your eyes, 

“He doesn’t like older women” You commented moving your hand from under the boxes, to wipes your eyes, one of the boxes falling in the process. 

He was just playing with you. 

“(Y/N) Are you alright?”

Headcannons/ Love Letters/ Stories/ Drabbles

[thewritewolf]

Eating Habits Chapter 8: Sick Day

Marinette is bed ridden and who better to take care of her than Adrien?

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 (Final)

Enjoy!

Read on Ao3

Marinette was miserable.

There were orders to fill and events to organize and clubs to lead. Above it all was the looming deadline at the end of the semester, a date that was uncomfortably close as November was about to roll around. She couldn’t afford wasted days, not now. Not when everything was coming to a head all at once.

And yet, here she was. Bed ridden with a cold, of all things. Two days into it and feeling no better than she had after collapsing into her bed yesterday. Tikki swore up and down that the power of creation infused in the Ladybug miraculous would make her heal faster, but apparently her body was already pushed to its limits with everything she had been doing.

She whimpered into the stuffy, warm gloom of her room (or maybe that was just her that was warm) as her headache flared up again thanks to a sneezing fit. Being sick sucked.

Her door opened, pulling back the comforting layer of darkness and she groaned. After adjusting to the sudden light, she blinked up at the patiently smiling face of her boyfriend. A smile that proved to be infectious, especially with the delicious smell coming up from the steaming bowl he was carrying.

“Hey, bedbug. Feeling any better?” He pulled up a seat as she sat up. Once she had resituated herself, he passed her the bowl. Her nose was still stuffed up, so she couldn’t quite place the scent, but she knew she loved it already.

“No, not really,” she said, wincing internally at how distorted and weak her own voice sounded. She stirred at the food in front of her, unsure if she was hungry or not.

“Not feeling potato soup? I could make something else, but you really should eat. It’ll help you get better faster.”

“No, no it’s fine. My stomach is just being weird is all.”

“Eat what you can, even if it’s just a spoonful. There’s more if you want it, but if not I can store it away for when your stomach is more cooperative.” Adrien watched as she took a few tentative bites. It was as good as she was expecting it to be, making it easier to force down some of the food. “You don’t usually get sick like this. What’s different this time?”

“The difference is that she is pushing herself so thin even the power of creation is having trouble keeping her hale and fit. After all that stress from the midterm tests it was inevitable.”

Marinette tilted her head up at Tikki curled up on the headboard and pouted at the kwami. Huffing in irritation, Marinette looked away and grumbled, “Tattletale…”

“We’ll talk about that later, my lady,” Adrien said with a stern look at her. “Try to relax for now. I’ll crash here until you feel better.”

“You really don’t have to-”

“I kinda do, since you are in no shape to take care of yourself right now. And even if you were, I’d still want to help keep an eye on you. We’re a team, after all.”

A small, warm smile found its way onto her face. She was so glad to have him in her life, especially as her boyfriend. Sometimes she had no idea where she would be without him.

“Okay, lovebug. I’m gonna let you get your rest now.” Adrien placed a kiss on the pads of his pointer finger and middle finger and then quickly pressed them to her cheek. She giggled at his proxy kisses, which he devised after she forbade him from kissing her while she was sick.

As the door closed, Marinette was still miserable. But Adrien made her feel a little less miserable.

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

Adrien gathered the dirty dishes out of the living room and took them into the kitchen, all the while humming a song. Which song it was, he wasn’t entirely sure. More than likely, it was one of the ones that he had practiced on the piano so frequently as a teenager that had just got imprinted in his brain forever. Even after he’d stopped playing, though that was more because of a lack of piano than a lack of desire.

The cheerful melody didn’t do much to fight back the building worry in the back of his head. How much was she really neglecting? Did she clean up only when she was expecting him over? Was this part of the reason she got sick? With all the glasses and bowls and plates he’d scavenged out of her various ‘workplaces’ (i.e. anywhere she had spent laboring over a design), he was surprised she hadn’t been reduced to eating off of paper towels.

He left them to soak while he prowled the tiny apartment for any other surprises.

It had come as a shock to everyone else when it was discovered that Adrien enjoyed doing household chores. Granted, he didn’t start doing them himself until after he moved in with the Dupain-Chengs. Something about the repetition and the satisfaction of seeing things improve by his own hands… it was definitely something that he had needed after everything that had happened. Maybe it was the sense of normalcy that he got from doing things for himself after a lifetime of everyone else taking that decision away from him.

Regardless, his quick scouring brought up a messy heap of dirty clothes and a similarly disorganized pile of clean clothes. He threw a load of what he hoped was the dirty clothes into the washer and got started on folding the presumably clean pile. Well, as clean as clothes that had been left on the floor for kwamis only knows how long could be.

A quick vacuuming and Adrien returned to the dishes. After making appreciable headway, there was a knock on the door. He narrowed his eyes and hoped that it wasn’t her landlord. That man was sleazy and taxed even Adrien’s patience. He dried off his hands and went to the door, opening it a crack.

Alya grinned at him from the other side. “Hey, blondie! I got some stuff for our girl. Care to let me in?”

Adrien’s scowl melted into a grin. “Sure thing! What’ve you got for us?”

“Groceries, medicine, some tea from Sabine,” she said as she dropped two paper bags onto the counter. “That sort of thing.” Her eyes roved the room. “I see someone’s made themselves useful. Good to know you’ll make a great trophy husband for our little fashion powerhouse.” Alya winked and Adrien felt his cheeks heat up at the thought of marrying Marinette.

“She deserves the extra help, you know?” He started unpacking the bags and putting them away. “She’s in her room if you want to say hi.” Alya swallowed heavily as she looked toward the bedroom door, dread in her eyes. “I know she’d appreciate it.”

“Low blow, Agreste,” Alya said. She groaned. “If I get sick then it’s on you.”

Adrien chuckled. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Why aren’t you worried, anyway?” Plagg asked as Alya went to chat with Marinette. “Just in case your animes have given you the wrong ideas, let me remind you: The power of love doesn’t actually stop you from getting sick.”

“Yeah, I know,” Adrien said while rolling his eyes. “But I’m pretty stress free, I have a work out regime and I eat healthily. Marinette, despite my best efforts, has none of those things. I’m not too worried about me.”

A few minutes passed with just the clinking of the dishes and his hummed song filling the air. Before long, Alya came back out and leaned against the sink where Adrien was washing dishes. After grilling him for a little while how bad Marinette’s sickness was, and what he was doing to help, the conversation shifted to him.

“So how’s it been going, blondie? Figure out what you want to do yet?”

Adrien shrugged. “For now, I’m happy working at the bakery and watching out for Marinette.” He smiled. “Both of those things keep me pretty busy.”

“I can imagine,” Alya said with a smirk. “Plenty of doors are open for you, whatever you end up deciding. What about up here?” She tapped the side of his head. “Anything to report?”

“...Some days are better than others. Some days are worse. I can’t really complain.”

“It’s okay to not be okay, you know.”

Adrien looked at Alya and saw the worry in her eyes. “I know.”

“Have you considered getting professional help? Nino swears by it.”

“Speaking of, it sounds like he put you up to this.”

“Nah, but we both came up with it, so it must be a good idea, huh?”

“I guess…”

They stood in silence for a few moments before Alya moved away from the sink. He was surprised to feel her pat him on the shoulder.

“You’re a good guy, Adrien. I’m glad Marinette has you. Just remember that you have her too, okay?” At his nod, she removed her hand. “Good luck, big cat.”

The door closed behind her and Adrien stared into the soapy waters that his hands were submerged in. A soft smile was reflected back up at him.

-----------

“I’m worried about her, Adrien,” Tikki said as she floated above him.

He looked around the room one last time, making sure that he had packed everything that he had brought over. After he grabs his toothbrush from the bathroom, he should be ready to head back to his apartment.

“I am too. Which is why I’m going to double down and make sure that she is getting the proper care she deserves.” He zipped up his duffle bag and set it on his bed of the last four days, the living room couch. “I don’t want to do this all again when her finals roll around.”

“It’s not just the finals I’m worried about.” Tikki landed on his palm and sagged. “This is just the first semester! There will be more to come and it’s only going to get more serious from here!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be right there, making sure she’s taking care of herself. Even if I have to do it myself.”

“That’s the thing - you can’t be there for her all the time. It takes a while for you to come over here or to her university, not to mention the extra hours you’re taking at the bakery. And no,” she added when Adrien was about to interject, “that doesn’t mean I want you to quit your job just to be her caretaker.”

But Adrien thought maybe there was a way for him to be there for her all the time. Or at least, pretty close to it. The gears began turning in his mind for a new plan.

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

Adrien never thought he’d love to see his apartment building, but here he was, sighing contently as he set his duffle bag on his living room table. There would be plenty of time to unpack it later.

As much as he hated seeing her sick, he was glad he had been able to help her. Hopefully she wouldn’t be mad about him cleaning up, but knowing her, she wouldn’t mind. Unless he happened to have moved her art things without realizing it, in which case she might very well tear him to pieces. He chuckled to himself and went down to the mailroom. Maybe he’d gotten something worthwhile in the past four days.

Walking back upstairs with the mail in hand, he began shuffling through them. Offers from banks (who wanted his money), universities (who wanted the boost his fame would bring), and a few modeling firms (who wanted his talent all to themselves). Adrien rolled his eyes. Just a bunch of strangers giving him attention for all the wrong reasons. The same song and dance he’d dealt with for almost his entire life. Not really worth getting bent out of shape over.

His back stiffened when he saw the first letter from his father. With a shudder he sorted it to the bottom of the pile. He wasn’t about to let his day get ruined by him. Not again. Slightly shaken, he kept shuffling.

His heart skipped a beat when the second letter was revealed. Belatedly, he realized he’d made it to his apartment door and gratefully shifted his entire attention toward opening it and walking inside. Gritting his teeth, he sent that one to the bottom as well.

Which revealed the third and final letter.

Adrien’s breath was coming in ragged now and his heart was pounding. With fumbling hands, he fished out all three and forcefully shoved them in a quickly filling basket with all the others.

“Hey, kid anything good-” Plagg cut himself off and froze halfway from rising from his den in the kitchen cabinets. His eyes were concerned as he asked, “What the hell happened to you?” Adrien opened his mouth but couldn’t find the right words. He glanced at the letter basket and Plagg narrowed his eyes. “I see.”

“I think… I could use a drink. Maybe take it easy for the rest of the day. Watch some television?”

Plagg watched him pour a glass of white wine and take a seat on the couch. While Adrien was searching through the channels to find something to take his mind off things, Plagg curled up against his neck and purred.

The sensation was enough to calm the frantic pace of his heart.