#and one of these has to do with dagger walking around casually in nothing but his boots | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jiminiecrickets · 1 year ago

Text

LOVE'S LITTLE DAGGER: PART II. KTH / M!READER

summary. taehyung still hates you. he does. but you make him feel deeper things, and it's not just because you're buried up in his lungs.

wc. 4.8k

tags. smut | sub bottom!tae, dom top!reader, playboy tae, jealousy, mention of fwb!jimin, reader cockblocks tae once lol, alcohol mention, unprotected sex, 69, degradation: whore, slut (tae receiving), brat taming, rimming + ass eating, overstimulation + multiple orgasms, one mention of "daddy" (r. receiving)

[ part one ] [ requested ]

on the evening before the ultimate freeze of the universe, where even doomsday preppers have little power in a crumbled society, kim taehyung would remain a massive fucking dick.

this, like the inevitable heat death of everything everywhere all at once, remains a steadfast fact. his natural charisma – which you can't deny – would make him a leader in this hypothetical end-of-times, and you'd bet real money that he'd manage to swindle someone with a bunker out of it. then, of course, he'd kick them all out to feel existence die on their skin and hold his nintendo switch above his face as he lounges on a mattress.

welcome... to the check-in counter for your deserted island getaway package!

"taehyung! did you finish the milk again?"

"hm," he mumbles noncommittedly. he tucks his feet up against the couch armrest, squinting up at his switch.

you close the fridge with a huff and roll your eyes, disappearing into your bedroom. when you return, you're wearing a jacket, your phone and wallet clutched in one hand as you hop into a pair of shoes. you bee-line towards the couch and snatch his game away, turning it off and setting it on the coffee table next to him. he groans, throwing an arm over his eyes.

"stop complaining. you have class in two hours and you're wearing nothing but your underwear. i'm helping."

he scowls. "i'm not going today. i would be fine if someone didn't fuck me into next sunday!" he hears you walking away, and he raises his voice. "i hate you so much!"

"just put a shirt on," you call, one foot propping open the front door as you pat your pockets for everything you need. "you better be clothed by the time i return. you don't want to be running when you're sore, do you?"

"i hate you!"

"mhm, be back in fifteen."

the door swings shut with a click and he scoffs, glancing at the blinking screen of his game. he folds his arms over his chest and stretches his legs out, smoothing out his black briefs, and pouts to himself.

what a jerk. so callous. fine – if you were going to ignore everything that happened the night before, so would he. and, because he's very good at everything he does, he's going to beat you at it! he's going to ignore you so well and forget all about how you made him feel and find another guy who's willing to take him to bed. given his looks, he doubts he'll have to go far.

game on.

—

there's a boy on your lap. he's pretty – real pretty, with plump glossy lips and long sugar-brown hair styled in soft waves back from his forehead. he's playful, grinding and swaying his hips over your lap while his friends cheer him on. some of the guys from the beer pong table have stopped to watch.

taehyung simmers hotly in the corner of the room, scowling into his red cup. he nurses his drink, which is slowly fizzling flat and warm – he'd snooped around in the mini-fridge of the upstairs games room and found an unopened bottle of solo, which he promptly cracked open and hoped no one would notice. it feels better to carry around than a cold, wet can of cheap beer.

but god, did he wish he drank something alcoholic. maybe it'd take the sting out of the scene in front of him.

taehyung knows the boy in your lap. he's seen him sleeping peacefully in your bed when he passes by your cracked-open door in the mornings, and rumour has it that he's trying for something more than casual with you. the sight of your hands on his hips, reciprocating his touches, makes his stomach curdle like milk.

but who wouldn't want to be with you? you're smart, and handsome, and you remember people's favourite meals and make it for them when they're having a bad day. a bitter taste fills taehyung's mouth and he can't stand the taste of lemonade any longer.

he tips out the rest of his drink and tosses the cup into the bin, schooling his features into simple, shallow flirtatiousness, leaning against the beer pong table with an arch of his back that shortens his already-cropped jacket and accentuates his ass. he glances aside, meeting the eyes of the blandly-attractive guy currently winning the game, and smirks, bringing his lower lip between his teeth as he turns back to the cups of beer, playing coy.

the guy's mates whisper in his ears, glancing at taehyung with glimmering eyes. he elbows one of them in the stomach at something he says and the guy doubles over with laughter.

taehyung remains pleasantly oblivious to what they're saying and watches the ping pong ball bounce, its tap light and clear through the constant chatter and loud music. he smiles as it bounces neatly into a cup and he slips his fingers around the one closest to him, since the other team look to be in no position to be drinking any more than they already have. half of their team are blacked out on the ground.

a body sidles up to him. "hey."

his fingertip glides around the rim of his cup. his gaze flickers up; he tucks his lower lip between his teeth to hide a smile. "hey, yourself."

by the couch, jimin sits in the bowl of your lap, a fan of cards in his hands. he giggles softly as your arms shift around his waist and your chin rests on his shoulder. he tucks the fan of cards into his chest. "you're not allowed to look, hyung."

"can't i?" you hum into his shoulder. "i thought we were on the same team."

"i can't trust anyone but myself. you're probably double-teaming with jungkook." he inclines his head towards the younger man, who's sprawled upside-down on the couch with his feet hanging over the backrest.

you scoff, hands absently smoothing over his thighs before snaking around him again. "he doesn't need my help. if i were to double-team with anyone, i'd probably go with namjoon-hyung. he'd make sure we'd win. i'd just be his cheerleader. minimum effort to emerge victorious."

jimin hums, lowering his cards. he smells sweet, yet smoky. he tucks his lips into your neck and you feel them curve into a sneaky smile. "i think double-teaming would be fun, baby..."

you chuckle. "of course you would. hey, look sharp – you're still playing this game. it's almost your turn."

when taehyung sees him lean in, whispering against your skin and looking far too cosy for his liking, his stomach churns. he scoffs quietly and glides his fingers down his plaything's bare arm, slim and soft in an elven sort of way – the way rich boys tend to be, having never done a hard day's work in their lives.

he's nothing like you – he's entitled, pretentious, grabbing and pushing his body around as if he owns it. still, taehyung leans into his shoulder, glaring daggers into the side of your head until it tingles down your spine and you glance over.

when you do, he doesn't divert his eyes, doesn't curl his upper lip. he just levels his gaze, lifting another red cup of beer with a pinky raised in a mocking toast, and turns away, dragging his plaything along behind him by the wrist.

he refuses to give him any sort of affection, any pretence of gentleness. all he wants is a body above his and a high, no matter how dry and bland it'll be. anything to take his mind off of the unfamiliar and unwanted twist in his gut.

he finds an empty bedroom quickly – it's almost as if he's developed a sixth sense for them. he sets the cup of untouched alcohol on a chest of drawers and easily rolls into routine with the guy he'd stolen from the beer pong table – shirts off, shoes off, thoughts off.

the guy leans down to kiss him – he turns his head, letting his lips fall on the corner of his mouth instead. taehyung's down to his briefs, laying still on his back as the vaguely-familiar young man above him grinds against his ass, mostly dressed except for his shirt.

at least one of them is excited. he didn't even bother taking off his jeans – just unzipped his fly.

with a creak, the door opens, and yellow hallway light floods the room. taehyung doesn't lift his gaze from the dark corner of the room, examining the branches of a crack in the plain wallpaper.

"hey! what the fuck, man? room's taken, can't you see?"

"get off of him."

"what?"

"i said: get off of him, asshole. he's drunk – can't you see?"

stubbornly, taehyung shuts his eyes as he feels the body on top of him stumble, leaving him entirely. his skin prickles with the chill.

"he literally dragged me here, what's your damn problem? don't you hate this guy? look, man, just leave right now and i'll forget this ever happened, alright?"

"put your clothes on. he's going home."

evidently, he doesn't think taehyung's worth any more arguing, and he mutters as he picks his clothes up off of the floor and shuffles away. he doesn't close the door behind him, so you do it instead. the lock clicks. when you turn back around, you nearly jump out of your skin – taehyung stands upright three feet away, staring silently up at you.

"fucking – don't do that," you scold, taking his arm and sitting him down on the edge of the bed. he watches with furrowed brows as you move across the room, folding his clothes over your arm. you even grab his shoes for him, dropping them by his feet.

"arms out," you instruct, holding out his jacket. you're not going to even attempt his shirt – it has more buckles and straps than you can count and he'd be pissed if you managed to ruin it.

he just stares up at you, utterly confused.

"lift your arms, taehyung," you repeat, gently sliding his hands through the sleeves. he lets you, staring at the side of your face.

"okay. time to get your pants on."

his lips part. "i'm not drunk."

"mhm. stand up."

"no, really," he protests, grabbing your wrists before you can tug him to his feet. "i haven't had a sip tonight."

you glance at him. "you were holding a beer. you looked like you were drinking from it."

"i was just holding it." he shrugs. "i don't like beer – it tastes disgusting."

"oh." you lean back. "so... why'd you let me kick that guy out?"

he smiles wryly. "i wanted to see what'd happen."

"uh-huh. well, i can call him back, if you want."

his hand shoots out to grab your sleeve. "no," he says quickly. "i don't want him."

"no?"

"no." his grip loosens and he glances away, fisting the bedsheets below him. "sorry for scaring you. you can go back to jaemin, or whatever his name is. i'll get home fine on my own."

"jimin," you correct. your brows furrow. "wait... taehyung, are you jealous?"

"fucking no," he snaps, far too quickly.

a grin grows on your features. a glint returns to your eye as you place your hands on your hips. "holy fucking shit. you are. kim fucking taehyung is jealous over me." you bark out a laugh, turning away to amuse yourself with a bunch of skincare pots and tubes on the dresser nearby. "my dick that good, huh?"

his face burns. "shut the fuck up! it was average, at best. having a big cock doesn't mean you know how to use it."

you toss a pot of moisturiser in the air, catching it before placing it back. you saunter over to taehyung, whose arms are crossed over his chest petulantly. you lean down to his level. "and who was the one screaming for more, hm? you really think i believe it when you say i was just some average lay?"

he shoots to his feet and jabs you in the chest. "you were," he snarls. "i was being gracious. your technique's sloppy and it's like you'd never touched a guy before. you're lucky i was so pent-up – that's the only reason i finished at all."

your smirk widens and your gaze flickers over his body. his hair pricks on end with a shiver. you lean in, not quite touching him – as if there's an invisible layer separating you from him, a glass case for the piece of art. your breath is hot against the shell of his ear.

"really? so if i was to, say, start taking off my clothes... you wouldn't be interested?"

his breath hitches. he says nothing.

"is that a no, sweet thing?"

"no," he breathes. "it's not."

you lean back and your lips turn up. his body yearns for your warmth, goosebumps shivering over his skin. "don't worry, taehyung. i didn't expect an answer – you take an awful long time to do things, and it really shows when you're getting second place on the class leaderboard."

his head snaps towards you. he grabs your shirt and yanks you onto the bed, throwing a leg over your lap. his brows are furrowed, his mouth tight. "bringing our scores into this?" he hisses. "low fucking blow, ln. fine – i'll show you slow."

he pushes your shirt up over your stomach, scraping his nails over your hips as he loosens your belt and unzips your fly. you prop yourself onto your elbows to watch with a smirk as he takes you out of your pants, stroking and squeezing with reverence that he tries to hide.

it doesn't work very well. you can see the way he stares at it as it hardens in his palm, his gaze heavy and wanting with a flush to his cheeks. he kisses the tip, suckling on it as he dips his tongue into the slit, and groans softly as he trails his wet tongue down the underside along the veins, fisting it and swiping his thumb over the tip as he takes your balls into his mouth, one at a time.

you curse and tangle your hand in his hair. his mouth is hot and wet, his breath warm as he pants against the base of your cock, staring up at you with smoky eyes and ruby lips. he sucks softly, dragging his tongue along the velvety skin, and closes his eyes as you groan his name. he hums softly in acknowledgement, moving back to your cockhead. he lavishes his attention upon it, lapping at it and sucking gently on just the first few inches – he teases the rest, pumping it and twisting his wrist expertly.

you chuckle as he moans, his hips swaying in the air. you toss off your shirt. "you're enjoying this a little too much. fuckin' whore, getting off to this..."

he moans again, sharper this time. he doesn't even dispute it. he chokes down a few inches of your cock and your head falls back as his tight throat pulses around you.

it's almost funny how quickly he's abandoned the idea of teasing you. no more slow jerks of his wrist, no more kitten licks – he's fucking gulping you down, moaning quietly as saliva drips down his knuckles.

shit. you suck in a breath through your teeth. he's really fucking good at taking you. it's like magic, watching the inches disappear down his warm throat.

he only begins to slow down when he reaches the base of your cock, his fingers pumping it shallowly. his jaw is stretched wide around you, the vibrations of his moans through your cock sinful – his tight throat strokes you, closing around you, and he doesn't seem to care that he's gagging on it, bobbing his head to a quick, steady beat. he thrusts against air.

you lick your lips, finding your voice. when it comes out, it's raspy – hungrier than you want it to be. "fuck, sweetheart – c'mere. wanna taste you, too."

he pops off with a slick sound, panting against your shaft. his lips shine with saliva. he grins, breathless, and shimmies out of his tight briefs – he groans in relief when he frees his cock, wet and throbbing. he clambers on top of you, the air hot and thick – all attempts at smooth seduction are forgotten. he's messy, hungry, and so, so human.

you grin as he arches his back, his knees beside your head. from the way he's holding his hips, you can tell he expects you to give his cock a little love – but you like to subvert expectations, and instead, you grab his slim hips and drag his ass towards your face.

he startles, arching to glance back at you. you grin, eyes glinting, and lick a long stripe over his asshole.

his hips jerk. he moans, turning back to your cock, and kisses the tip with soft warm lips, precum beading at the slit.

you hum, fingers digging into the supple flesh of his ass. two of your fingers slip easily into him – either he's been playing with himself, or his body is still recuperating from your extensive loving the night before. either way, he moans loudly around your cock, rocking his hips down onto your fingers.

"pretty," you muse, watching the way he clenches around your fingers. "arch your back a little more, slut."

he gasps as your tongue laps at his rim. "f-fuck – eat me out properly, damn it! if you're gonna talk big game, you – mngh—!"

you can't reply because you've got your tongue in his ass. you'd smile at the absurdity of it all if you could – the boy you've been butting heads with all year sounds much better crying out for you.

you don't even know why he's being a little jealous baby. he could've just asked – there is no universe in which you'd turn down fucking kim taehyung.

but he's stubborn and a cocky sonovabitch. you can't say that it's not a little cute: angry pretty boys standing their ground, firm in their beliefs until they get so flustered they forget what their next argument is.

and kim taehyung is flustered. he's whining into your thigh, gripping your hip so tightly you think he's drawing blood. he rocks his hips onto your tongue, his ass clenching around it, and buries his hot face into your hip, panting and swearing his pretty little head off as his cock spurts and pulses hotly, overexcited.

arousal curls in your stomach as he drags your cock against his lips, sinking down on it to muffle his own moans. you buck your hips into his mouth and while he gags, he lowers himself further, one shaky hand cupping your balls, and bobs his head desperately, silky lips dragging against the veins of your cock. he swallows you deeper as your cock pulses and twitches against the tight walls of his throat.

you come without warning. serves him right, the attention whore, but he doesn't seem to mind – in fact, he seems to like it, moaning and whining around your cock as he struggles to keep it all in. he fails eventually, hot cum dripping down the corner of his lips as he glides off your cock with a wet kiss. his cock twitches, already wanting more.

you tease him, dragging out his orgasm as he grinds into your face. the warm weight of his body grows as he slumps onto you and you can't be annoyed at the fact that he's only loosely gripping your cock, too busy basking in his own afterglow. his breath is warm and quick against it.

you draw away, shifting under him as you guide him into your lap. he shivers, still a little dazed, but manages to find your hand in the tangle of limbs. he entwines his fingers with yours, his pounding heart fluttering in his chest.

he presses his lips to your neck, pushing you down against the bed – to your surprise, he tugs off your pants and underwear entirely, leaving you just as naked as he.

"was bothering me," he rasps, kissing your cock. he crawls up your body again, hovering over you face-to-face. "eat me out again."

"mh, would love to. just tell me when you wanna." you stroke his sides.

he tilts his head, those dark eyes clearing of their fog. "no, i'm not talking about a few days in the future or whatever. i'm talking now. i want your tongue in me right fucking now, baby – want you to make me come again with that silver tongue of yours." he grazes your lower lip with the pad of his thumb. "i like it better like this than down his throat."

you snicker, flipping your bodies over and hovering over him instead. you've done it in a way where he's on his stomach. "jealous bitch, aren't you?"

"says the one who calls me 'puppy'," he growls, eyes flashing. he leans into the pillows, his eyes challenging, and he spreads his legs, placing one hand high on his ass as he lifts his hips. "now stop yapping and fuck me, ln."

"sir, yes, sir," you tease. he feels your presence drift lower until your hands spread his ass.

at first, he entertains some degree of control, fucking himself back on your tongue as you groan into his skin, pulling his hips closer. he enjoys a second high, untouched, but you've grown curious. how many times can you make the infamous playboy come?

the answer: a lot. you just can't expect him to keep his wits about him after a few.

he's been on his knees for so long that they're beginning to hurt, even on the mattress. the discomfort, however, is far outweighed by your ravenous hunger – he can't stop crying out for you, your tongue and fingers working in tandem to fuck him stupid. you'd even started to pump his cock for him – he'd almost cried, throwing his head back with a whiny babble.

more, more, more. he'd begged for it – he knew this, somewhere at the back of his mind. he'd heard his own voice, usually so strong and steady, reduced to a crumbling whimper, collapsing in on itself as you pumped three fingers in and out of his wet hole, messy with lube and saliva.

you'd never seen him like this before. you never thought he could get like this – teary-eyed, flushed dark pink from head to toe, gaze faraway and hazy, focussed on nothing in particular even when you muse aloud about his latest academic losses. all he does is whine, trembling, and reach back blindly for your cock, groping and grabbing.

he pants over his shoulder. his red hair is coppery where it sticks to his skin, shining with a thin layer of sweat.

"please," he begs, grinding messily against your cock. "p-please, please..."

taehyung is gorgeous when he lets go. when your cock glides in with no resistance, his walls soft and hot around you, his eyes roll back into his skull, and he lets out a soft, thankful sob. his chest heaves as you push in deeper, testing how much he can take, and all he does is grab your hip, nails clawing at it as if he'd die otherwise.

his hole is sloppy with lube. you press your nose to his collarbone, groaning softly as he clamps around you.

his fingers dig into the white bedsheets, his eyes screwed shut as he focuses on remembering how to breathe. your cock grinds against his swollen prostate and he keens – his voice cracks as he whines into the pillows. you hush him, your hips moving quickly.

"daddy," he sobs, and by his tightening sides, you know he's close. his cock leaks like a broken faucet, bobbing between his messy thighs. his eyes roll back and he grips handfuls of the bedsheets. "fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—"

he dissolves into a babbling mess. you groan into his shoulder, kissing the freckles smattered across it, and chuckle softly. "what a basic-bitch thing to like, sweetheart. it's almost cute."

he whimpers in response, his body jostling harshly. you grab his hip, forcing him to rock back onto you, and he drawls out a long, broken moan.

"takin' my cock so well, baby," you whisper, feeling his sides tense up at the praise. "like you were made to take it."

"mmh – mhm," he slurs out, spine arching and ass pressing deeper against your hips. he sucks his swollen lower lip between his teeth. he doesn't say anything else for a long time, losing himself in your constant gentle caresses.

despite biting his lower lip in an effort to quieten himself, his mouth soon hangs open, slick lips parted to loose loud, punched moans from deep in his belly. they're cute, quavering. he sounds as if he's about to burst into tears.

"g-gonna..." his fingers twist in the bedsheets, knuckles white. your cock glides in and out of his slick asshole, punching the air out of his lungs on every snap of your hips. he can't fucking breathe; it feels too good. "'m gonna...!"

"not until you make me come," you demand, your voice growing breathier by the second. your thrusts grow heavier, messier, and his voice cracks through a cry. "else i might decide jimin deserves my cock more, slut."

he squeezes his eyes shut, and a tear falls down his cheek from the corner of his eye. he moans as he throws his ass back on your cock, piercing himself again and again and again with the wet smack of skin on skin. when you come with a groan, he loses it – he hiccups past a cry of your name, nails digging painfully into the bedsheets. he comes so hard stars explode behind his eyelids and in his veins.

his body quivers as you fuck him lazily, your breath hot against the shell of his ear as you fill him up. your cock pulses inside him, thick and warm – he trembles, burying his face in the pillows, and lifts himself slightly on weak arms, pushing his back and shoulders against the numbing heat of your body.

with a shaky sigh, he leans back against you and you press your lips against his shoulder, securing his tingling body with one firm, steady hand. his hips jerk, his body still not finished with the aftershocks of his high, and you hush him, caressing his hip. his heart pounds beneath his ribs as if he's sprinted a marathon.

it takes a long time for him to blink awake from his whiteout daze, control returning to his limbs. he hums sleepily into your skin, his head propped up on your chest.

"fucking hell," he whispers wearily. you laugh at the extra rasp in his voice.

"fucking hell indeed," you reply, too tired to move off of the bed. you stroke his shoulder, tracing circles and hearts into his skin. you tuck your other arm under your head with a soft exhale. "can you still 'get home fine on your own'?"

he pauses for a while, trying to scoop enough of his brain into a pile to remember what you're talking about. he sighs, closing his eyes, and buries his face in your chest. "shut the fuck up. i'm not getting up 'til tomorrow. and when i do, you'd better be there to carry me."

"what the fuck – why'm i the one who has to do all the work all the time?"

"i will punch your stupid pretty teeth out if you don't."

you scoff, flicking your wrists up in some half-assed form of surrender. "yeah, yeah..."

he shifts, sliding his leg over yours, and cups your side in one hand. he practically clings to you like a koala. in the warm summer silence, his breaths slow, and his muscles relax. every so often, though, you feel him tense up and shift slightly.

after the first handful of times, you groan, irritated and drowsy. "quit fucking moving, idiot. just go to sleep."

his limbs tighten around you.

"stop worrying, taehyung. i'll be here when you wake up." your voice softens – just a smidge. "promise."

that smidge is all he needs. he rests his cheek against your collarbone and mumbles – something like don't tell me what to do – and squeezes you tighter, adamant on re-establishing his authority in this relationship. he falls dead asleep, though, in just a few minutes, snoring softly as he cuddles into you.

you smile. you'll let him have this win.

#top male reader #x male reader #male reader #dom male reader #dom reader #bts x male reader #bottom bts #bottom taehyung #taehyung x male reader #kpop x male reader #bts x reader #kpop x reader #bts smut #taehyung smut

445 notes · View notes

sarahsmi13s · 2 years ago

Text

Hesitation

(gif not mine)

pairing: jake ‘hangman’ seresin x fem pilot!reader (last name: abbott, call sign: medusa)

characters: jake seresin, reader, the dagger squad + maverick and warlock, leroy jethro gibbs, ziva david, timothy mcgee, anthony dinozzo junior, donald mallard (ducky), james palmer, abby scuito, secnav, male villian!oc - Cole Cooke

warnings: THIS FIC IS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, language, death, SA, torture, abuse (not by hangman), car accident (mentioned), vomiting, guns, canon violence, i’m sorry if i missed any, please let me know and I will add it to the list

word count: ~10.6k (i-i don’t know what to tell you)

a/n: the NCIS team will consist of Gibbs, McGee, DiNozzo, and Ziva (mainly because that’s the season i’m currently on) and the Dagger Squad is temporarily stationed at Oceana

like mentioned in the warning, this fic contains sensitive themes, reader discrection is advised

**********

The Gibbs Team looked at the plasma, looking over the military file displayed on it.

Tony crossed his arms over his chest and got closer to the screen, “She’s pretty, real pretty.” “She’s missing DiNozzo,” Gibbs said, walking into the bullpen with his coffee. “How did you-” Gibbs just stared at him. “Nevermind.”

McGee rolled his eyes before turning to the screen. “Lieutenant Y/N ‘Medusa’ Abbott was reported UA this morning by her captain, Captain Pete Mitchell.” Ziva spoke up, “She’s a Naval Aviator, graduated top of her class and has flown several high profile missions.” “She also was a TOP GUN graduate, graduating in the number one spot there as well,” Tony added.

“She got a backseater?” Gibbs asked. “Uh, no, not anymore,” Tim said, looking down at the ground. “Not anymore?” The image changed to one of a photo of Y/N and her backseater. “Lieutenant Jordan Winters was in a car accident in 2018. He was in a coma for a month, when he woke up the damage to his legs had been so severe that he was discharged,” Tony elaborated.

Gibbs nodded, “What about her wingman?” Ziva pressed the clicker, “Lieutenant Jacob Seresin, call sign ‘Hangman’; also graduated top of his class and graduated from TOP GUN in the number one slot.” Tony winced, “Wonder what he did to earn a call sign like that.” Ziva chuckled, “I can think of a few things.”

A smack sounded out in the bullpen.

Ziva and Tony rubbed the back of their heads. “Right, sorry boss.”

“We need to talk to her squadron, Captain Mitchell, and Admiral Bates,” he walked around his desk and grabbed his coffee. “DiNozzo, you’re with me.” “Gibbs, why are we looking into this? She’s only been UA a few hours, that’s not really enough to classify her as missing,” Ziva questioned. “My gut.”

As Gibbs and Tony got into the elevator, “McGee, I want a BOLO out for her vehicle.” “Yes, Boss.”

********

After flashing their badges to the gate they went into the training facility.

“How can I help you guys?” The secretary asked as he looked up from his computer. “Do you know where we can find Admiral Bates?” “He should be in his office, he’s expecting you.” Gibbs nodded and went down the hall.

He knocked and received a ‘come in’.

Gibbs walked in flashing his badge, “Admiral Bates? Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs, NCIS. This is Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo.” Warlock stood, “Glad you could make it here so soon. I know Captain Mitchell called it in, but he was ordered to start training as usual.” “Is he on the ground?” Warlock nodded, “Yes, as are the rest of the pilots. If you’ll follow me I can show you the way.”

As he led the way, they asked him questions. Like what Y/N was like, what her relationship was with her squad and her commanding officers. And Warlock had nothing but positive responses.

They entered the hangar seeing the pilots sitting casually, standing at attention when the Admiral entered the room.

“You may be seated.” Warlock gestured to the agents, “They are Special Agents Gibbs and DiNozzo. They’re from NCIS.”

Payback sat up with a furrowed brow, “NCIS? What happened?” Warlock sighed, “As you all know, Lieutenant Abbott did not report this morning. They’re here to ask you all some questions.”

Gibbs turned to Maverick, “Captain, I’d like to speak with you first.” “Of course, my office is this way.”

******

In Maverick’s office, Gibbs asked him questions about Y/N.

“You called this in very early, why?” Maverick sighed, “Med- Lieutenant Abbott, has never been UA and has barely ever called in sick. I’ve had to send her home a few times actually.” Tony nodded before asking his own question, “So, there is no possibility that she’s late?” “No, sir.”

Maverick sighed, “I just, I have this feeling that something’s very wrong. It’s in my gut, and my gut is usually right.” Tony and Gibbs shared a look, nodding.

“Is there anyone that might want to hurt her for any reason?” Tony asked. Pete shook his head, “Not that I know of. She’s loved by everyone on this squad and her past squads had nothing but nice things to say about her.” Gibbs sat up, “We need to personally talk with each of those pilots out there.” Mav nodded, “Of course, whatever you need.”

******

They spoke with Hangman first.

“What can you tell us about Lieutenant Abbott?” Gibbs asked. “She’s one of the best damn fighter pilots around. It’s an honor flying with her,” Jake answered honestly.

“You’ve flown with her for a while, nearly your whole career,” Tony pointed out. “Yes, sir. We were in another squadron together before being reassigned to this one.” Both nodded.

Gibbs glanced down at Y/N’s file. “She’s got a badass call sign. ‘Medusa’. Let me guess, you gave that to her?” Jake nodded, smiling at the memory, “I did.” “Why Medusa?” Jake chuckled, “Well, first she flies stone cold. If she ever gets hit on in a bar, the look she has could kill. She also loves mythology, it’s one of her hyperfixations.” He smiled as he remembered the last reason, “She’s got a sick Medusa tattoo on her thigh.”

Tony raised his brows, huffing in amusement.

Jake tensed at that, and Gibbs noticed, but didn’t mention it.

“You mentioned that she got hit on, do you think any of those guys would maybe try to hurt her because she rejected them?” DiNozzo asked. Hangman frowned a little, thinking, “No, most of them are usually drunk and just move on to the next girl.” “Were there any that didn’t move on?” He nodded, “A few, but they tend to move on when the rest of us size him up from across the room.”

“Has anything like that happened since you’ve been stationed here?” Gibbs asked. “No, mainly because she’s not too familiar with the area or the bars so she usually doesn’t go up to the bar alone.” “What about her stone cold stare?” Tony asked, a hint of mirth in his tone. “It still works, but some guys tend to take that as playing hard to get. So, one of us guys usually goes to the bar with her. If she needs to go to the bathroom, she goes with Phoenix or Halo.” They nodded, writing their notes down.

“What about her relationship with her backseater?” Jake chuckled, “Her and X-Ray are like brother and sister. She still visits him when she gets the chance.” Tony arched a quizzical eyebrow, “They’re still close?” He nodded, “The bond between pilot and wizzo is something else. When you’re in a plane together, your life rests entirely on the other person’s shoulders. They were a great team, I owe both of them my life.”

Gibbs nodded, “Seems like Lieutenant Abbott owes you her life as well. You’ve got two air-to-air kills, one of which was to save her life about 2 years ago.” Hangman nodded, “Yes sir. She was out of defense with no ammo, she had a bandit on her three o’clock.” “So, that’s when you swooped in and saved the day?” Tony asked, chuckling before cutting it off with a cough from a stare from Gibbs.

“Thank you Lieutenant Seresin, if we have more questions I need you to be available,” Gibbs said as they both stood. “Of course, sir,” Jake shook his hand, along with Tony’s before leaving.

********

The rest of the interviews went very similarly.

Everyone said basically the same thing. Medusa was never late, loved by every one of them, and had no known enemies. When at the bar no pursuers ever tried to follow her out.

While they didn’t get a lead to where she could be, they got an idea on who she is.

*******

As they drove back to NCIS, Gibbs’ phone rang.

“What ya got, McGee?” “Lieutenant Abbott’s vehicle was spotted in a ditch headed towards the air station. Sending the coordinates now,” McGee reports. “Ziva and I have already started that way.”

Tony nodded at Gibbs after checking his phone. Gibbs nodded back, “Okay, we’ll meet you and Ziva there.” He hung up and started driving to where Y/N’s car was spotted.

*******

They met up at the scene and began to process it.

“So, what are we looking at Boss?” DiNozzo asked as he photographed tire marks. “I’ll tell you when I know, DiNozzo.” “Right.”

Gibbs turned to Ducky, “Do you have a time of death, Ducky?” “Based on bruising, I’d say a day, maybe two.” They moved her body from the vehicle to the gurney to check her body temperature. “Her body temperature suggests the same.”

“How are we gonna tell the Dagger Squad?” Tony asked, watching Palmer wheel the gurney up to the truck. “How are we gonna tell her family?” “Her squadron is the only family she’s got, McGee,” Gibbs huffed and made his way back to the car.

*******

Jethro walked into autopsy, “You got a cause of death for me, Ducky?” Dr. Mallard went over to the x-rays, “Well, based on the bruising, and the position we found her in - Lieutenant Abbott died of asphyxiation. When she crashed into the tree, she was pinned by the steering wheel. Poor girl, her ribs were crushed and it could have taken hours for her to lose consciousness.” Gibbs turned to the autopsy table, walking over to the body on it.

He tilted his head as he looked at her face, squinting a little. “Did we get a positive ID on her?” “We found her ID, sir,” Palmer piped up. Gibbs just gave him a look before turning to Ducky, “Did we confirm that?” Ducky waved his finger, “I thought you were going to ask that, which is why I was going to suggest getting one of her colleagues to come up here to confirm.” “Why didn’t we just fingerprint her?”

Palmer came over, “We would have-” He turned her palm over, “Except she doesn’t have any.” Gibbs nodded, “Lieutenant Seresin mentioned she had a tattoo on her thigh. One of Medusa, said that’s how she got her call sign.”

Ducky nodded, “Ah! Yes, Medusa.” He moved the cloth of her leg, showing the tattoo there. “Beautiful work of art, truly.”

Gibbs’ phone rang, “Yeah Abbs?” “I think I’ve got something fishy with the Lieutenant’s car.” He nodded, “On my way.”

Ducky looked down at her body, “Call it a gut feeling my dear, but something about you just doesn’t line up.”

*******

Gibbs and Tony walked into the garage, “What you got Abby?”

The scientist popped up from behind the door. “Something that doesn’t line up.” He rose a brow, “And that is?” She enthusiastically waved him over.

“Look at the interior.” He did. “It’s covered in glass, Abbs.” “Exactly!” Tony laughed, “Abby, that’s normal for a crash.” Abby held up a finger, “But the lack of blood is not!”

Gibbs furrowed his brow and looked at the interior more closely.

There truly was not enough blood in that car for it to have been a proper crash. There was little blood on the air bag, the seat, the windows- anywhere blood would be, there was small amounts.

Gibbs looked at the crime scene photos, seeing the little amount of blood on her body.

“The lack of blood suggests-” “She was dead before the car hit the tree,” Gibbs said as he turned to walk to the elevator.

Abby quickly followed him, “Gibbs wait!” “What?” She smiled at his expectant expression. “I was checking the brake pedal and I found this,” she held up an evidence jar. He sighed and grabbed the jar, shaking it a little, “What is this?” She took it back, “I’m thinking it’s cinder block. I’m gonna run tests to be sure, and on the trace amounts of blood as well.”

Gibbs smiled, “Good work, Abby.”

*****

Gibbs walked into the squad room the next day, he really hadn’t left the building, going over every detail he could find on Lieutenant Abbott. Also staying for the autopsy of her body, learning that she had in fact died somewhere else two days prior to the day she was found. And results from the residue found in the floorboard were confirmed to be cinder block

He was still waiting on the results of the blood analysis.

As if on cue, his phone rang. “Gibbs.” “The blood results came back and you won’t believe-” That’s all he needed before he hung up and went to the elevator.

*******

Walking in with a Caf-POW, Gibbs went over to Abby at her lab computer.

“Tell me something, Abbs,” he said, sitting the drink down. “I can do better than that.”

She pulled up the blood test, both from the body and what she pulled off the airbag. “These blood samples don’t match.” Gibbs furrowed his brow, “So there was someone else in the car?” Abby shook her head, “Nope. This blood-” She held up a vile taken from the body. “Does not match this blood.” She held up the swab Ducky took from where Medusa’s nose bled. “When I ran a test on this swab, I couldn’t find a match. So, I requested this.”

Abby took a breath, allowing Gibbs to ask questions. “So whose blood is this?” “I’m glad you asked.” She pulled up another test, showing a positive match. “What is this?” “When I learned the blood pulled off the Lieutenant’s skin didn’t match what was taken out of her body, I ran what I found on the airbag against both. What was found on the airbag matches what was taken off her skin.”

Gibbs nodded, “Do we have any idea on whose blood that is?” “Not who,” Abby smirked, turning to her evidence table. “Animal?” “Nope.” Gibbs exhaled impatiently, “Then what is it, Abby?”

“Based on the theory we had about her being dead before the crash, I tested the blood for red dye. And I found that both samples, the ones taken from both the air bag and her skin, contained Red Dye 40.” “That’s food coloring.” Abby nodded, “Yup! The blood in the vehicle is fake. Our Lieutenant was murdered before the crash.” Gibbs kissed her cheek, “Good work, Abbs.”

*******

“McGee, go get Lieutenant Seresin. Bring him in for questioning, but don’t tell him why,” Gibbs said as he walked around his desk.

Tim stood up, “Uh, but do I get to know why we’re bringing him in?” Gibbs looked up at him, “Because Lieutenant Abbott was murdered.”

*****

Hangman sat in interrogation, toothpick in his mouth as he tapped on the table.

Gibbs walked in and Jake looked up, taking the pick out of his mouth. “Lieutenant Seresin,” Gibbs nodded to him. “Agent Gibbs,” Jake nodded back.

It was silent for a moment, Hangman waiting for the agent to speak.

“When did you last see Medusa, Hangman?” Gibbs looked up from the file on the table. “Sunday night, around 2200, sir.” “That’s late, you both weren’t in your dorms?” Jake shook his head, “No sir. The squad went out to the bar that night, sir. Y/N and I went to our rental on base at 2130.” “You lived together?” Hangman nodded, “Yes, sir. We’re dating, sir.”

Gibbs leaned on the table, “Dating?”

“Yes sir.” “Was this not an issue with you being in the same squadron?” “We were dating before joining the Navy, sir. Grew up together.” “And you aren’t married yet?” Jake exhaled through his nose, his jaw clenching a little.

Gibbs smirked a little as he watched Hangman’s eyes fall to the table. “What happened Sunday night? Did you and Y/N get into a fight that night?” Jake swallowed, looking Gibbs in the eye, “Yes sir.” “About what?”

“A girl at the bar had flirted with me-” “Did you flirt back?” Jake looked at Gibbs incredulously, “Of course not.” “Then why did you fight with Medusa?” Jake rubbed his face, “When I turned the girl down, she laid it on thicker. Y/N claimed her territory.” Gibbs nodded and began writing, “I assume you left after that?” He nodded, “Yes sir.”

“What happened when you got home, Lieutenant?” Jake sniffed and rubbed his nose, “Medusa was giving me the cold shoulder, which I’m not entirely surprised about. I tried to get her to talk and when she did, it escalated. And she asked me a question, one that I hesitated to answer.” “Was the question,” Gibbs played with his pen. “When you were gonna marry her?”

Hangman nodded, “Yes sir. She said she was tired of having to show ‘barrack bunnies’ that I’m taken. That if we were married, it’d stop them. I told her a ring doesn’t stop them, if anything they try harder… Then she asked if I ever planned on marrying her, and I hesitated.” “That’s when she left?” “Stormed out the door and left. I needed to talk about it, so I called my buddy Rooster and he came by. He stayed over because I wasn’t sure if Medusa was going to stay with Phoenix or not. She didn’t come home or show up on base.”

Gibbs cleared his throat, “She didn’t come home because she was in a car accident, ran off the road and smashed into a tree.”

He could see Jake’s heart plummet as the words left his mouth. “Is-is she okay?” Gibbs shook his head, hesitating to pull out the photos but laid them out anyway, “I’m sorry, Lieutenant. She was found dead in the driver’s seat.” Jake looked down at the photos and covered his mouth, “Is she here?” Gibbs nodded, “She’s in autopsy.” “Can I see her? Please?”

******

Tony and Ziva watched the interrogation through the glass.

“Do you think he’s telling the truth?” He asked, looking down at Ziva. “About seeing her Sunday night?” She looked up at DiNozzo, laughing a little, “Or that they were a couple?” He scoffed, “I know that’s a lie. Dating for nearly 15 years and they aren’t married, there’s no way.”

Ziva looked back and saw how torn up Jake looked. She sobered up, “I think he’s telling the truth. Gibbs does too.”

******

Gibbs took Jake to autopsy, “Ducky, I’ve got a second opinion to confirm Lieutenant Abbott’s ID.”

“Oh, who might this charming young man be?” Ducky asked, walking up to Jake. Hangman held his hand out, “Lieutenant Jake Seresin, you can call me Hangman.” Ducky smiled and shook his hand, “Doctor Mallard, everyone calls me Ducky.” Jake couldn’t help but chuckle, “I think you’d like my friend.” “Is he also a medical examiner?” Hangman shook his head, chuckling, “No, he’s also a bird.”

Gibbs smirked from behind his coffee, before following Ducky and Hangman.

“I must warn you, Lieutenant, the crash made matching her to her ID through facial recognition difficult.” Ducky pinched the cloth in his fingers, waiting for Jake’s confirmation that this is what he wanted. “Please, Doctor Mallard.”

Ducky moved the sheet, exposing her face. Jake inhaled sharply, hesitantly reaching out, pausing. “You may touch her, Jacob.” Jake ran his index finger along the side of her face. “Oh, Sugar… I’m so sorry..”

Both Ducky and Gibbs watch tears fill Jake’s eyes before he furrows his brows. “What’s wrong Jake?” Gibbs asked, tilting his chin up. “It’s just- Y/N has a scar. Right here,” Hangman used his pinky to trace a line from just below her cheek bone to a spot on her neck. “She got it last year. She tried to break up a bar fight and got grazed by a broken bottle.” “Are you sure it hasn’t faded?” Jake shook his head, pulling out his phone, finding a photo from Sunday night before the fight.

He gave it to Ducky, who zoomed in on the photo, seeing the scar in the exact place it was supposed to be.

“Can you show me her tattoos?” Gibbs arched a brow, “Tattoos?” He looked at Ducky, “Why didn’t you say she had more than one?” “Because we only had one to go off of.” Gibbs nodded, “Yeah, the important one!”

Jake arched a brow, looking between the two before Ducky smirked and turned back to him and lifted the sheet. Jake’s eyes scanned her body, matching every tattoo to the ones he had committed to memory. He shuddered, covering his mouth, “It’s her.”

Gibbs inhaled through his nose, shoulders rising a little before he exhaled. “Lieutenant, can anyone confirm that Lieutenant Abbott was at the bar on Sunday?” Jake’s eyes shot up to the marine, “I don’t understand, you said this was a car accident.” “Answer the question, Hangman.” Jake stood straight at the tone Gibbs had, “The Dagger Squad, or the bartender at the Siren’s Cave, sir.”

******

Ziva and Tony headed to the air station to talk to the squad and McGee went to the bar to get surveillance.

“Lieutenant Machado, can you confirm that Lieutenants Seresin and Abbott were at the Siren’s Cave Sunday night?” Ziva asked, sitting across from Coyote. “Yeah, Medusa beat me twice at 9-ball.”

“Lieutenant Bradshaw, Lieutenant Seresin said that he called you to come over after the fight he had with Lieutenant Abbott. Did you pass her on your way to their home?” Tony asked Rooster. “Yeah, she passed the bar as I was leaving.”

Tony called Gibbs to relay the information.

******

Gibbs opened the interrogation room door.

“Everyone confirmed seeing you both at the bar on Sunday night. Lieutenant Bradshaw confirmed that he saw her on his way to your house. You can go.” Jake stood up, “Can I get her tags, sir?” Gibbs nodded and jerked his head for Hangman to follow him.

They went down to Abby’s lab.

“Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs!” Abby came over, startling Jake a little. She paused, noticing him, “Hi, I’m Abby, forensic scientist.” He smiled, “Lieutenant Jake Seresin, friends call me Hangman.” “Oooh, a pilot- wait, you’re…” She trailed off as she realized who Jake was.

She hugged him, “Oh, I’m so sorry.” Jake glanced at Gibbs, who was smiling at him and shrugging, before hugging her back. “Thank you, Abby.”

When she pulled away she looked at Gibbs, waiting for him to speak. “If you’ve processed them, I need Lieutenant Abbott’s dog tags out of evidence and given to Lieutenant Seresin,” Gibbs told her. Abby frowned, “I’m sorry, I can’t do that.” Jake swallowed and nodded, “I understand if you need to keep them for any reason. I just-” “No!” Abby cut him off. “No, it’s not that I still need them. I don’t have them.” Jake tilted his head, “That can't be right, we never take them off.”

“Abby, I’ll be back. Lieutenant, I need to talk to you.” Gibbs ushered Jake out of Abby’s lab and to the elevator.

“Agent Gibbs, there’s something you’re not telling me. Was my wingman murdered?” Jake hissed as soon as the doors closed. Gibbs pressed the button for the squad room, sighing as he looked at Jake and stopped the elevator, “The body in autopsy is three days old. Y/N left your house on Sunday night.” Jake’s jaw slacked, “There’s a chance she’s alive?” Gibbs clenched his jaw, “Yeah. So I want to know who went through all the trouble to find a damn near perfect body double and replicate her tattoos to make it look like she died, and I wanna know why.”

******

Your head stayed down when the door opened.

“Oh come on, Y/N.” The cold metal of the blade under your chin made you raise your head. “There she is.”

*******

“Is there anyone in Y/N’s past that would want to hurt her?” Jake shook his head, chewing a toothpick as he paced through the squad room, “I don’t know.” “Come on, Hangman, think.” Jake clenched his jaw so hard he broke his toothpick, “I’m sorry if I can’t think of a single person that would have it out for the sweetest woman on the damn planet, Agent DiNozzo!”

Gibbs' phone rang, “Gibbs.” “I’ve got something!” He hung up and stood, “Abby’s lab now.”

Everyone, including Jake, went to Abby’s lab.

“Show me what you got Abbs.” She grinned at him and turned to her computer. “Just to be thorough, I found the Facebook pages of the tattoo shops Medusa got her tattoos at. I found the posts where she tagged them, and matched them with the photos taken in autopsy of her tattoos. And-” The team watched on the plasma as the photos layered over one another. “They don’t line up,” McGee finished for Abby.

“I also called the tattoo shops and learned they all use different ink. And all of the tattoos on our Jane Doe use the same ink.” “So this just further proves the fact that that body isn’t Lieutenant Abbott.” “Yes, but the fact it’s all the same ink means it’s easier to trace, Boss,” McGee spoke up.

Gibbs nodded and moved to leave, “Well, trace it McGee!” “I already did, Boss.” Gibbs stopped and turned, finding a smiling Probie.

He tossed his arms to the side, “Are you wanting a microphone?” Tim shook his head, “Sorry, Boss. First, Abby found the brand of ink, and then I was able to find where it’s sold. Turns out you can find it on Amazon, along with a tattoo machine. Ducky also noticed that, upon closer inspection, that the tattoos were in the healing stage. So I narrowed the search to purchases made two weeks ago and delivered to addresses in Virginia.”

McGee turned back to his computer, and everyone went to the plasma.

“Both were delivered to a: Hannah Nicholson.” Gibbs turned to Jake, “Lieutenant, does that name sound familiar to you?” Hangman shook his head, “No, never heard of her.”

Abby came up, “No, but you’ve seen her.” She clicked her remote and someone that looked similar to you was pulled up. “Hannah Nicholson is our Jane Doe.”

*******

You gritted your teeth as a slap was delivered to your face.

“When I’m done with you, your career will be over. You’ll never be in the sky again.” You laughed, like actually laughed, “You can’t be serious. Ruin my career? I’m a part of the best of the best, you could never keep me-” You grunted as he punched you in the gut.

The man squatted to be eye level with you, “Don’t get smart now, Y/N.” “Well, you could definitely benefit from getting smart. Don’t you think? You fake my death with a car accident and then send a video to NCIS of you with me, very much alive?” You arched a brow at him, “Not very smart-” He cut you off with a punch to the face, sending your chair, and you, to the floor.

*******

The next day while Jake was on base, he got an email sent to his phone. When he checked it and saw it was a video with you tied to a chair as a thumbnail.

“Maverick,” Jake didn’t hesitate to burst into his Captain’s office, not caring who may be in there. “Lieutenant-” “I need you to take me to NCIS.” (Jake was shaking too much to drive himself) Maverick stood, glancing at Warlock for a moment, “Why, Hangman?” Jake just turned his phone around and showed him the email.

Both Mav and Warlock looked at the phone. “Go, Captain, I’ll take over training for today.”

******

When they arrived, Jake had no hesitation to go right up to the squadroom.

“Lieutenant Seresin? What are you doing here?” McGee asked, being the first to see him. “Where’s Agent Gibbs?” Tony spun in his chair to get up, “Coffee run.”

He walked up to Hangman, “As senior field agent, I’d be more than happy to help.” Jake chuckled, tapping his palm with his phone, not really in the mood for putting up with Tony’s arrogance. “I’d prefer to speak to Agent Gibbs.” “Well, like I said, he’s not here. And I’m much better at-”

“At what, DiNozzo?” Gibbs said, standing next to the agent and the pilot as he sipped his coffee.

Tony stuttered to respond, making Jake smirk a little. “Have you ID’d the man Hannah met online?” “Not yet, boss.” “Then why are you standing here?” “Well, I was- uh- I was just- I’ll get right on that boss.”

Hangman and Maverick shared a look, before Gibbs spoke to them. “Lieutenant Seresin, I take it you have something for me?”

*******

“Well, you could definitely benefit from getting smart. Don’t you think? You fake my death with a car accident-”

“God, Medusa, stop talking…” Jake mumbled to himself. The group winced when you got punched in the face and your chair fell over.

Gibbs grunted a little, “Get this video to Abby. I want her to analyze every frame of that video. And who sent it to Lieutenant Seresin.” “On it, Boss,” McGee said, emailing it and then following his email.

Jake rubbed his face and sat down. He threw his head back and bit his lip. Maverick knelt down in front of him, “Hangman?”

Jake sniffed and looked down at his captain. “What is she thinkin’, Mav? Antagonizing him like that? That’s not how we were trained to handle situations like this.” “She’s not thinking, she’s just doing.” Jake scoffed, “As comforting as I assume that was supposed to be, it’s not even remotely easing my nerves.”

Ziva perked up, “Wait, what if she wasn’t taken because of the mission?” Tony nodded, “That would explain why she’s being so sassy. It’s not intel, it’s revenge”

*******

“Agent Gibbs!”

The crowd turned to the voice, seeing Director Vance upstairs. “SecNav would like to speak to you. MTAC now.”

As Gibbs made the stairs Vance noticed the two khaki uniforms in the squadroom, but simply nodded at them as they walked into MTAC.

“Agent Gibbs.” “Mister Secretary.” “One of the best naval aviators that just flew a high profile mission is missing. I was told you were on the case.” Gibbs nodded, “Yeah.” “Do you have any leads?” “No.” “Agent Gibbs, you do understand that if anything about that-” “He doesn’t care about the mission. He only cares about Lieutenant Abbott. It’s personal for him.” “So you know who he is?” Gibbs shook his head, “No, but based on the video sent to Lieutenant Seresin, he hasn’t asked any questions related to any mission.” SecNav nodded, “Okay. But Gibbs?” The marine raised a brow. “Get her back, the Navy needs her.”

*******

“You know, you ruined my life that day,” the masked man said as he played with his knife.

Your head lolled to the side, your exhaustion from the beatings taking a toll on you now. “What are you talking about?” “Do you not remember me?” He stood and you gritted your teeth as you forced your head up to look him in the eye. “Obviously not. Should I?” You winced as he pressed into a cut on your shoulder.

“Yeah, you should.” He pulled off his mask to reveal a face you haven’t seen since he got kicked out of the Academy.

“C-”

********

“Cole Cooke,” McGee said, pulling up Cooke’s old Naval Academy file. “Abby was able to find him because the email he used to send the video to Hangman, he used on an online dating site where he met Hannah.” Jake stood up, “Wait, Cooke?” The team parted to let him get a closer look.

The pilot's face morphed into anger.

Anger that the marine recognized.

“What’d he do, Lieutenant?” Jake had fire in his eyes when he looked at Gibbs. “He sexually assaulted her and three other girls. Y/N’s the one that reported him.” Tim nodded, “And that’s what got him kicked out of the Naval Academy and blacklisted from the military.” “He wasn’t arrested?” Jake clenched his jaw, “He was, but he got out on good behavior.”

Jake’s phone went off with a notification, an email to be more accurate.

He dropped it onto McGee’s desk. “I don’t understand, why would he send these to me?” “You’re her boyfriend, Lieutenant, this can just be another form of revenge. He wants to get back at her for reporting him and, in turn, ruining his chances at a military career,” Ziva said, crossing her arms as McGee transferred the videos.

“He ruined his career all on his own, Agent David. Y/N just got a scumbag out of the service,” Jake huffed rubbing his forehead. “Nobody liked him, he was cocky. Always thought he was better than he is.” Tony chuckled, “Isn’t that the main trait of a naval aviator?”

“They have something to back it up with, DiNozzo,” Gibbs said. “The only thing Cooke has to back him up is a record of being a dirtbag.”

He looked at McGee, “Play it.”

You looked worse than before and Jake felt sick to his stomach. “Oh my god.”

They watched him squat in front of you, twirling the knife he just cut you with in his hand. Jake’s jaw was clenched as he watched your head fall to the side as slow breaths made your chest move.

“You know, you ruined my life that day,” Cooke said. Your face scrunched in pain as you took a deep breath, “What are you talking about?” Cole stood and tipped your head back with a harsh grip on your chin, “Do you not remember me?” You scoffed, “Obviously not. Should I?” He moved the hand holding your chin to press into the cut he had just placed here, making you wince. “Yeah, you should,” he ripped his mask off.

The look on your face Jake had only seen one other time and it was when you came to his dorm crying.

********

The banging pulled Jake from his book.

“Hold your horses!” He pulled the door open, coming face to face with you crying and looking absolutely terrified. “Sugar what’s wrong?”

Your hands were shaking as you showed him your knuckles, bruised and cut up.

“I-I didn’t want– I told him I had a boyfriend- Ja-ake,” you broke down outside his door. “Hey, hey, I got you. You’re safe now.” You swallowed, “Jake, I need to go to the superintendent-the dean-someone.”

He pulled you into his room to get you out of the prying eyes of other midshipmen. “Why? I need you to-” He finally took in your appearance, you were wearing a disheveled USNA t-shirt and athletic shorts. Bruises were forming on your wrist and your eye and lip. “What the fuck happened to you?”

“You remember last semester when those two girls dropped out for no reason?” He nodded, “Yeah, the two freshman girls right?” You nodded, swallowing another wave of tears away. “I found out why…” Jake searched your eyes, “Why, Y/N?”

*****

“Cole Cooke…”

Jake was brought back to the present by your voice.

Cole laughed, pushing your shoulder, “That’s right, Y/N. Cole Cooke, the man’s who military career you ruined.” It was your turn to laugh, “Me? Ruin your career? You assaulted me! And those two first years! They quit because they were scared of you! Scared because you threatened to kill them if they told anyone!”

He punched you, sending you falling back. He grabbed you by the rope under your breast. “And you’re not scared that I’ll do the same to you now?”

You held your head up to look at him, blood pouring from your nose. “I would lie and say ‘no’. But guess what?” “What?” He spat through gritted teeth. You smiled with blood stained teeth, “I put you in jail once. It’s almost poetic that I’d do it again. Except this time, there won’t be a chance you’ll make it out.”

Cole growled and they all noticed his posture change, “Let’s play a game, Lieutenant.” You shifted forward to get in his face, gaze stone cold, “What do you suggest, Cooke?” The team could feel the venom dripping off your tone. “Hangman.”

The video stopped on the frame of your face falling once again to show fear, and the team turned to face the pilot who looked equally worried and pissed.

*****

You were hanging from the ceiling, your chin resting against your chest.

The door to the room you were in opened. You whimpered just a little when he brushed his fingers against your bruised ribs, “You didn’t hurt him, did you? Please… You can do whatever you want to me, but please leave Jake out of this…”

Cole hummed in your ear, “Anything I want, hmmm?” You glanced at the camera, before looking at the ground shamefully. A shaky and timid ‘yes’ fell from your lips. He let out an amused huff before his hands ran over your shirtless torso.

*****

Jake felt bile rise up his throat when you looked down in shame.

“What’s he gonna do to her?” McGee asked. Gibbs frowned, “What he tried to do 12 years ago.”

The anger and disgust rolled off the agents as Cooke’s hands ran down your body. When he got to your breast you jerked away out of reflex, earning a pull to your hair which made you cry out.

You were getting weaker by the hour and the team could tell. Jake could tell, and he hated it.

“You know, you only had the one tattoo at the academy,” he said, groping at the inked flesh of your thigh. Jake watched your lip quiver and you inhaled as best you could with your position. “I also found your back, extremely enticing,” Cooke ran his hand down your back. You gritted your teeth and looked behind you at him, “Is that because you’re too much of a coward to attack women from the front?”

That must have really pissed him off because he came around and started to punch you.

Jake stood up hastily and made a beeline to the elevator, “I can’t watch this anymore.”

Tony jogged after him, “Lieutenant Seresin! Hangman-” The doors closed when he got to them.

******

Jake just needed to get away and he was going to Abby’s lab.

When he stopped on her floor, he moved quickly to her lab but nearly ran into Ducky in the process. “I’m sorry, Doctor.” “In a hurry, Jacob?” Hangman chuckled nervously, “Yeah.” “Needed a breather, my boy?” “Sir?” “I saw the videos as Abby was analyzing them.”

Jake felt bile rise again and this time he couldn’t stop it. Ducky noticed and quickly helped him get to a trash can.

“Let’s get you someplace cooler,” Ducky ushered Jake back to the elevator.

******

Jake sat on one of the metal tables in Autopsy.

His khaki uniform shirt was neatly folded next to him as he sipped his water. “Thank you, Ducky.” The doctor nodded, “Of course. It can’t be easy, seeing the one you love like that.” Jake coughed a little, trying to force the emotion out of his throat, “It’s not.”

Ducky watched his eyes fall to his shoes, he could tell he felt guilty. “It’s not your fault, Lieutenant.” “I hesitated, Ducky. And since I hesi-” His voice cracked, tears finally slipping past his lids. “Since I hesitated she's having to relive the worst day of her life.”

Jake set the bottle down and used his white undershirt to wipe his eyes, “How long have you been together?” “Over 15 years…” Ducky nodded in understanding, “High school sweethearts.” Jake huffed out a laugh, “Childhood friends to high school sweethearts to USNA sweethearts.”

“Forgive me if I’m overstepping, but why aren’t you married?” Jake shrugged, “I don’t know. I guess it’s because we were already acting like a married couple, just without the license and the rings. I never thought about it.” Jake laughed and shook his head.

It was silent for a moment.

“She asked me if I was ever gonna marry her, and I hesitated. It was a question she asks me all the time, but this was the only time it was during a fight. It was the only time that my answer really mattered. And I hesitated… She left and was in a vulnerable enough state to let herself get taken.”

Ducky leaned on the table next to Jake, “Cooke was going to get to her one way or another.” “But I led her right to him.”

Jake looked at the doctor next to him, allowing Ducky to see how broken and tired he was. “I’m scared, Doctor Mallard.” “That’s perfectly normal, Jacob.” “I'm a damn fighter pilot, I’m supposed to be level headed, and right now… my head doesn’t even feel like it’s on my damn shoulders.”

“It’s normal to feel like that, Jake,” Gibbs said, leaning on the doorframe.

He walked over to the pilot, “She’s strong. She’s gonna fight to get back to you.” Jake rose a brow, sniffling as wiped his eyes, “Did you see her, Agent Gibbs? He was using her like a punching bag…” “She will make it out of this.” “How do you know?” “My gut.”

That was oddly comforting to Jake.

“Do you know the mythology behind Medusa?” Ducky inquired after a beat of silence. Jake chuckled again, remembering the nights throughout your lives that you would stay up and talk about mythology of all sorts for fun. Sometimes when he was having trouble sleeping, you’d tell him the story of some hero in mythology and he’d fall right asleep.

He sighed, “We’ve stayed up hours talking about mythology. But if I’m honest, I never really heard the words she said…” Both men knew what Jake was getting at; he was listening to your voice and watching your expressions as you told the stories.

Ducky just smiled, “Medusa was a priestess for Athena, the goddess of wisdom and war strategy, and had sworn celibacy. However, Medusa had gained the attention of Poseidon, and they-” “Had sex in Athena’s temple,” Jake said as he sipped his water. “That much I remember.” Both Gibbs and Ducky laughed a little at that.

“When Athena found out, she punished Medusa for breaking her celibacy by turning her into a ‘beast’ with the ability to turn men to stone.” Jake nodded, “Yeah, Y/N has the tendency to do that, whether it be with fear or with her beauty.” Jake couldn’t help but smile at the memory of him seeing you on prom night for the first time, he froze on your parents doorstep.

Ducky and Gibbs smiled as they saw the look in Jake’s eyes as he thought about you.

“She was killed by the hero Perseus, beheaded. Then her head was then used to protect those who had it in their possession. The image of her head was used on shields, breast plates, and more recently, tattoos.” Jake remembered you mentioning that as he held your hand as you got it, “She mentioned that when she got it. She was getting it because she thought it looked cool, makes her feel powerful; but she likes the extra meaning.”

Ducky rested a hand on Jake’s shoulder, “I know it may not look like it, but she is protecting herself.” Jake took in a deep breath and nodded.

********

They walked back into the squad room, the group sitting at their desks and making conversation.

“Go home,” Gibbs told them.

It was late. They’d been out all day talking to Cooke’s neighbors, his parents, his boss and coworkers. And the last video was sent just after sundown.

They were tired.

“But we haven’t found-” “I know that, Ziva.” McGee spoke up, “Abby’s trying to analyze the room she is in so we know what to look for. I tried to triangulate where he sent the emails from, but he was using public wifi at an internet cafe.” “We have no direction to go, Boss,” Tony said, not being able to look at Jake.

Gibbs turned to DiNozzo, “Which is why I’m telling you to go home. Get some rest.” Ziva inhaled through her nose and interlocked her hands, “Gibbs, we don’t know what Cooke is going to do next. We have zero time to waste.” “If Cooke wanted her dead, he would have killed her already,” Jake said, jaw clenched with his eyes trained on the floor. “Believe me, I’m worried. Hell, I’m terrified out of my mind right now.-”

“But we can’t make progress without leads. Cooke lives in a studio apartment, his parents disowned him, and he’s not shown up to work in days, we don’t have anything,” Gibbs said, frustration in his tone. “Go home, get some sleep.” His team begrudgingly got their things, all avoiding Jake’s eyes.

“You should get some sleep too, Lieutenant.” Jake chuckled dryly as he shook his head, “I don’t think I can, sir.” He ran his thumbs along the khaki of his uniform.

Plus Maverick had left, needing to be back on base. The only way Jake was getting back to base was by cab. Maverick also gave him as much time off as he needed.

“But- uh, I better head back to base though.” “In what, Lieutenant?” Jake shrugged, “A cab, I guess.” Gibbs shook his head, “Stay with me, Jake. It’s late. And I doubt you want to be in that house right now.” Hangman looked down at the floor, huffing out his nose and tonguing his lip.

“I know how you feel.” Jake looked up, green eyes swimming with curiosity as his brows pinched together. “When I was in Desert Storm, I was informed that my wife and daughter were dead. It was hard to even walk into my house, let alone sleep there.” Jake’s eyes widened slightly and he swallowed as his jaw ticked, “I’m sorry, sir. I can’t imagine what that must have felt like…” Gibbs nodded, “And I hope you never have to.” He patted Jake's shoulder, “Come on.”

******

Gibbs gave Jake a pair of sweats to change into.

They went to his basement, neither being able to sleep.

“So, you’re a Marine?” Jake asked, sipping his bourbon. “What gave it away?” Gibbs asked, smiling a little bit as he sanded the wood of the boat. “Other than you being in Desert Storm?” Gibbs turned, wiping his hands on a damp towel, nodding. “Everything.”

The marine let out a breathy, amused chuckle. “You know a lot of marines?” “I was raised by one. My father retired when I was 4 as a Sergeant, he was 38.” Gibbs sipped his bourbon, “Why’d he retire?” “Wanted to be there for us. He had a close call, he didn’t want to risk not coming home to us. His 20 years were up, so he retired.”

Gibbs nodded, looking at the boat before looking back at Jake. “You wanna help?” Jake looked up from his glass and between the boat and Gibbs. “Sure, yeah.” He downed what was left and Gibbs gave him a sander.

*******

Since Jake didn’t need to report to base, he just freshened up and Gibbs took him by the base rental to get some clothes.

He had forgotten his keys in his locker and had to call someone to bring them to him at the house. That someone was Rooster.

Jake got out of Gibb’s car and saw Bradley on the porch. He was sitting on the bench, one fist held by the other as he looked at the ground. Maverick had gotten permission to relay what had happened to you to the squad, and everyone had taken it hard.

Rooster looked up when Hangman shut his car door.

They immediately met in a hug. “I’m so sorry, Jake.” “I’m scared, Rooster. I didn’t even-” Bradley pulled back and held Jake by the shoulders, “Hey, they’re gonna find her. Say it to her then.”

Gibbs came up beside them, nodding at Rooster before they went inside.

Jake didn’t want to be there longer than he needed to be so once it was opened, he booked it to the bedroom.

Bradley and Gibbs stood at the island in the kitchen. “They didn’t decorate much.” Rooster shrugged, looking around, “We aren’t here for long. They didn’t see the need to bring a whole lot.” “If you aren’t here for long, then why’d they rent the house?” Rooster chuckled, “They wanted their privacy.” Gibbs chuckled and glanced at his watch.

Hangman was taking longer than he said.

Gibbs went down the hall and found Jake sitting on the side of the bed. He had changed into a pair of his own sweatpants and a green t-shirt. Jethro knew what he was looking at, even with his back to him and from the door.

“Ask her.”

Jake chuckled humorlessly, “After this…” He shook his head, “I doubt she'll say yes.” “Ah, I don’t know about that.” Hangman sniffled, “I messed up…” Gibbs nodded, moving to sit next to him. “Yeah, you did, big time.” Jake shook his head.

“But this is how you fix it.” Gibbs pointed to the ring box. Jake swallowed, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand, “I wanted to wait, ask her on my family's ranch where we had danced in my headlights to George Strait. I had this big plan. Just a private thing, but special…” “Plans change. Sometimes you have to adapt.” “Yeah.” “So ask her.”

Jake turned and looked at him, nodding at him. He stood from the bed and slid the box into his pocket. He grabbed the small stack of clothes next him and they left.

“Agent Gibbs?” Gibbs and Jake looked over at where Bradley was at his Bronco. “When you find her, give us a call?” The agent nodded, “Yeah, I’ll give ya a call.”

*******

When Jake and Gibbs got to NCIS, nothing had changed yet.

No new video. Abby was still working on room measurements, and no one had seen Cole.

Until McGee’s computer went off. Everyone’s head turned, and Jake felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. “It’s Cooke.” “Pull the video up McGee.”

You were still hanging from the ceiling, Cole running his hands over your torso.

The camera was a little closer, and it showed the tear tracks on your face.

“You know,” you spoke, voice shaky and raw. “I’m gonna need a drink after this. Yeah, whiskey sounds really nice.” Cole just grunted and pulled you back against him. You whimpered a little bit, definitely feeling gross because of what was happening. “Or an Oscar. Maybe two.”

“The hell’s an oscar?” Tony asked out of reflex, glancing at Jake, but he was just as confused.

Cole grunted into your neck, “Shut up.” “Have you ever been to the delta?” He stayed silent but reached over to yank the rope and pull you up higher. You swallowed, glancing at the camera, “Me either, but I’ve been to the Sierra Nevada Mountains. I went there with Hangman on a weekend getaway after a rough deployment. My uncle has a cabin up there. God, that weekend was so fun. I love Jake, I love him so much…” You kept your eyes on the camera to make sure that Jake knew that you’d love him. The video stopped just as Cooke pulled your hair back, making you yelp.

Jake cleared his throat, nodded, “Yeah, that weekend was fun… Wait, we didn't go to the Sierras; we weren’t even in California, we were in Arkansas.” Gibbs caught Jake’s eyes and that’s when they realized it.

“She’s using phonetics!”

The team's eyes grew wide in realization. “Whiskey, Oscar, Delta, Sierra,” McGee repeated. “W O D S?” Ziva spelled it out. “She said two oscars,” Tony pointed out.

“She’s in the woods,” Gibbs finished for them. Jake thought back to what you said, “She put emphasis on ‘cabin’.” “DiNozzo, check to see if Cooke’s parents owned or still own a cabin.” “On it Boss.”

His phone rang, “Yeah, Gibbs.” “Gibbs, I ran the measurement of the room. She seems to be in a cabin. Based on the dimensions it’s a family cabin, probably two or three bedrooms.”

“Boss, it seems Cooke’s parents own a lot of cabins,” Tony said just as Gibbs picked up his phone. “Did you narrow it down to Virginia?” McGee asked, brow arched. “Yes, McGeek, I did. Mr. Cooke owns two hunting cabins and a-” “Family cabin, two or three bedrooms,” Gibbs cut in.

“Yeah, they haven’t used it in years. It’s in Fletcher State Park.” Gibbs got up, “Get your gear, let’s go.” Jake watched them all grab their things.

“Agent David,” he called out before she got too far. “Yes, Lieutenant?” Jake grabbed the clothes he brought. “Here,” he held them out. “She’s in nothing but a bra and underwear, give her these.” Ziva hesitated to take it. “Please.” She heard the desperation in his voice and took them.

She went over to Tony and Tim. “You know, despite the odds, we may not-” “We will find her alive,” she glanced at the fabrics in her hands. “We have to.”

*******

You yanked down on the rope, crying out a little at the pain in your dislocated shoulder. You had honestly been scared of losing feeling in your hands, but he gave you a bit of a break when he was finished hurting you for the day and left you locked in one of the bedroom closets.

Your toes barely scraped the ground and the rope wasn’t going anywhere. You shivered in the cold damp air of the cabin. Only being in your underwear, the chill soaked into your bones. You were certain that if you didn’t die of whatever Cooke was doing to you, you might die from the cold.

Hearing tires outside the cabin, your heart sped up. You could only huff out small breaths as you heard footsteps outside the door on the porch.

It was his routine to get you set up for his next sick video, film it, and then leave to send it. You’d calculated the time it took for him to get back and it was getting close for time to him to be back.

But then there was banging on the door, followed by a gruff voice yelling, “NCIS!”

Your entire body relaxed. You were safe.

“I’m in here! Help me!” You called back, coughing a little.

The door frame splintered when the door was kicked in. “Lieutenant Abbott?” The agent asked, pistol drawn as he walked over to you.“Yes,” you breathed out. “Where’s Cooke?” You shook your head, “I don’t know but he’ll be back soon.”

“Please get me down from here. It’s hard to breathe,” you begged, tears of relief falling down your cheeks. You jerked your neck towards where Cole had secured the rope, “Ease me down, please.”

McGee was quick to loosen the rope and Ziva helped steady you once your feet were on the ground. “Can you walk?” She asked, gently placing her hand on your sternum. “I think so. I might need a little help.” The agent simply nodded and helped you outside.

Once you were outside the uneven ground and rocks caused you to stumble. Tim moved to help Ziva steady you but he jostled your dislocated shoulder. “Shit!” McGee looked panicked, “What’s wrong?” You gritted your teeth, “My shoulder, it’s dislocated. I tried to break the rope and pulled it out.”

You chuckled a little at his expression, “Hurt like a bitch. Can either of you pop it back in?” Ziva nodded and leaned you against the car. She got a proper grip and looked at you, “Ready?” You swallowed and nodded. She exaggerated a few breaths and when you matched she popped it back in.

“Holy shit! Sweet baby Jesus..”

You pushed off the car and threw up; all the pain catching up to you with the adrenaline rush. Ziva came up and held your hair out of your face.

Spitting out the last of the saliva in your mouth, you thanked her under your breath.

A coat was wrapped around your shoulders. You looked to see Gibbs rubbing your shoulder, a small smile on his face.

His fatherly nature was present and it allowed you to be vulnerable, finally allowing yourself to outright sob; mostly in relief. You fell into his chest and he caught you, hands moving to rub your back. He mumbled into your hair, “You’re safe. I got ya. I got ya.”

The sound of gravel shifting caught their attention.

Gibbs felt you tense under his touch, “Is that him?” You nodded, whimpering a little bit. He looked at Ziva, “Stay with her, cover the front. DiNozzo, McGee, go find cover on the right, I’ll get cover on the left. You’ll know what to do.”

Carefully, Gibbs placed you in Ziva’s hold and she placed you in the car for both warmth and cover.

When Cole finally reached the cabin, Ziva raised her weapon. “Cole Cooke! NCIS! Get out of the car-” He threw it in reverse just to be stopped by Tony and Tim. He tried to get out and make a break for the tree line but Gibbs stepped out. He quickly surrendered and was handcuffed.

With you in a separate vehicle they made the trip back to NCIS.

********

Jake paced the squad room. Abby was up there with him, trying to keep him calm.

He was mumbling things to himself out of worry and Abby was following him, trying to grab him by the shoulders. “Jake. Jake. Ja-”

She finally got a hold of him, and ducked her head a little bit to make sure he was looking at her.

“Jake, they will find her. They’re the best there is. I’m sure they already found her and are either on their way here or to a hospital.” Jake frowned, “She hates hospitals, especially being in them alone.” Abby shook her head, “She isn’t alone. Gibbs wouldn’t let her be alone. Y/N is safe, I can feel it.” Jake just nodded, slowly calming down.

The elevators dinged and he was on his feet, nearly giving himself whiplash as he turned.

But when he did all he saw was red.

Cooke was being escorted out in handcuffs by Tony and McGee. Abby couldn’t hold Jake back as he swiftly made his way over and landed a punch to Cole’s jaw. Neither agent bothered to stop the pilot as the one punch sent Cooke to the ground.

But as he went in for more, Gibbs gripped Jake and pulled him away. He had to fight Jake back to the bullpen, but he got him there.

“That asshole just punched me!” McGee and DiNozzo huffed as they harshly yanked him off the ground. “You’re lucky that’s all he did.” They dragged him to interrogation.

Jake’s nostrils flared as he exhaled, his chest still broadened in his display of dominance over Cole.

However, the adrenaline wore off as quickly as it appeared and Jake felt tears line his eyes. He hung his head and fell into a chair. He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, sobs leaving his lips. “I wasn’t there the first time, and I wasn’t there this time… I can’t believe I-” Abby cut him off, “Don’t finish that sentence, Jake. Because you are here, you were there the first time. She ran to you, you are her safe place.” “But-”

He was cut off the elevator ding again.

Glancing up, his heart soared in his chest.

There you were. Standing right before him in an old Longhorn sweatshirt and gray sweatpants. You were clean from the dirt and dried blood, having used the showers to clean up after any evidence was collected.

Your arm was in a sling and some butterfly closures adorned your forehead. But even then, you were still the most beautiful girl in the world to him.

*****

You walked quietly with Ziva out of the elevator, the weight of the conversation you had with her and Ducky still sitting on your shoulders.

The sound of a chair rolling back and hitting a desk caught your attention.

Looking up, you saw Jake and once again, you were crying; both from relief and the realization you almost never saw him again.

You moved as fast as you could to get to him, slamming your beaten body into his when you got to him. His arms carefully wrapped around you, obviously not wanting to hurt you. But when your soft crying exhales hit his chest, he all but scooped you into his arms carefully wrapping your legs around his torso.

You winced a little when his arm tightened around your waist. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he immediately apologized. You pulled your head out of the crook of his neck, shaking it lightly before looking into his eyes, “It reminds me this isn’t just another dream.”

Jake closed his eyes, tears falling down his cheeks as he rested his forehead against yours. “Jacob, if you don’t-” He cut off your sentence with a kiss, it was slow but no less passionate. He was gentle, the arm wrapped around your shoulders bringing you closer to him.

Ziva, Gibbs, and Abby watched on with smiles. Tim and Tony walked in mid conversation, but stopped seeing the intimate moment happening in the squad room.

You had to pull back for air at some point. And when you did, you rested your forehead against Jake’s, both of your eyes closing with the contact.

“Marry me.”

Your eyes shot open and were met with Jake’s green ones.

You had said it at the same time.

A grin broke out on your face, “I hope you aren’t just askin’ me that-” Your tease was cut off by Jake, “I’m not. I-I had this big plan. I wanted to take you out to the pasture we danced in on prom night our senior year.” You giggled a little, “That would have been nice.”

Biting your lip you played with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“I had a lot of time to think over the past few days,” you said quietly, your breath ghosting over his lips. He nudged your nose with his. “So have I. And I’m sorry I never asked you sooner.” “Let me finish, will ya?” You chuckled lightly and he did as well. “I realized that proposing, nowadays, is a two way street. I could have asked you at any time and you would have said ‘yes’. We’ve been together since we were 15, Jake. Friends since we were born. We should have gotten married right out of high school, but we were scared of what our future held during the Academy and then flight school, then through separate deployments. It was too much to worry about at once, and we didn’t know what was gonna happen.”

You licked your lips and inhaled a little, “But I can’t go another damn day without legally being your wife. Those bitches at the bar aside. I just, I want others to know that you're mine and that I’m yours.” He nodded, “Okay, let’s do it.” You giggled and kissed him, “Alright cowboy.”

He sat you down and pulled out the ring box.

“Wait, you had that this whole time?” Jake rubbed the back of his neck, “Like I said, I had this whole plan. I was gonna ask you after we got some time off when we got back to North Island.” You laughed, “You perfectionist.” You peck his lips and he slid the ring on your finger.

You heard a squeal from behind you and you both looked around to see the entire Gibbs team smiling at you and Jake.

“Thank you, for getting her back to me. All of you.”

*********

thank you guys for making it to the end! i hope this crossover was accurate

i have plenty of ‘x readers’ in the drafts so if you want more let me know

and my asks are open, feel free to request what you would like to see next

feedback is greatly appreciated!

tags <3: @milesdickpic

<3 love ya babes

#ncis x reader #ncis/topgun #ncis x top gun #top gun maverick #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin x reader #hangman x reader #glen powell #gibbs #ncis #hangman angst #jake seresin x fem pilot!reader #tw: assault

679 notes · View notes

rensukei · 2 years ago

Text

↻ ...bound to happen

in which a whipped diluc is head over heels and literally won't do anything about it, so you take matters into your own hands. [ triggered, chase atlantic ]

cw smut, diluc story quest spoilers. unhinged!diluc, pretty ooc bcause i got carried away, somewhat cocky reader, size kink, light hair pulling, fingering (f!receiving), lotsa dirty talk, petnames, unproteced sex (wrap b4 you tap ladies and gents), dilucs a slut. wc: 2.5k

a/n i go nuts for this man. loco.

it's late. late late. the angel's share has rid of all its patrons, save the boisterous few straggling at the bar top.

"and— and you know what i said to him?" kaeya slurs out.

you, out of your hefty adventurer's clothing and instead swapping them out for more casual and comfortable attire, stand leaning against the counter as you indulge in kaeya's inebriated antics. "what'd you say?"

"as a matter of fact... right now i can't recall what i—" he pauses, taking a deep breath before he finished his sentence, "what i said."

"well," you begin to make your way around the bar, grabbing the half-empty glass from in front of the man as his expression drops, "i believe it's time for you to head on home, captain."

"ah, what time is it?" he murmurs out, barely loud enough for you to hear.

"12:47," a voice calls out from the storage room, "would you like an escort? i bet y/n would be happy to see you out."

"oh nono, it's quite alright," the blue-haired man stated, recalling the last time you offered to help him outside and the daggers that were then stared into his back by the redhead from the tavern doorframe. "i'll be just fine on my own. thank you, though."

you sigh in relief; nothing against the captain, you just don't feel like dealing with a drunk person right now, no matter how good they are at holding their own. "ah okay then; well, goodnight kaeya!! be safe on your way home."

"will do, princess."

and with that, the angel's share is empty of drunkards and left with you and an irritable diluc.

"that was a lot easier than i had expected it to be, don't you think, 'luc?" you walk towards the storage room behind the bar but are started by his large frame appearing in the doorway.

"sure, princess." he huffs out, sliding past you to restock below the bar.

you know exactly what this means. your poor employer, mad that his brother has the common and occasional use of platonic petnames, is getting possessive. even though he's your employer. your boss, who has the frequent habit of letting his eyes linger for far too long or gets way to close to you when reaching for a certain bottle from across the bar, is stomping around because someone called you princess who wasn't him.

it's not like it goes unnoticed by you, either. you know he has developed a liking to you; whether it was before he asked you to work at the tavern or after, you don't know. all you know is that ever since you've been working there, he's suddenly taken more shifts, among other things.

"oh, please, diluc," you huff out, having dropped the whole 'master' ordeal early in your job at his request, "you know how he is, it's all respectful."

you know it's one of the more severe cases tonight when you're met with no response.

"'luc, c'mon. what's wrong?" you walk up behind him as he stands in the back room.

he swears you'll be the death of him one day. for a man with such restraint and politeness, you always test his limits. "nothing, y/n. excuse me while i finish this case," he turns around as his eyes widen, not expecting you to be so close to him, "you can go home, you're done for tonight."

"i'm not leaving, diluc." you say, moving in front of him to stop him in his tracks. a newfound surge of confidence ignites something deep within you, and you aren't playing coy today. "why do you always do this?"

he blinks, shaking himself out of his frozen stance. he has one of two options here: tell you to leave again for your own good, or stay and play dumb and watch as the situation unfolds. as much as he really wants to you leave for his sanity's sake, he picks the ladder. "do what?"

"oh, don't play stupid with me. you get so worked up over the smallest things when it comes to me." you behind walking towards him as he inches back with each step you take. "—and don't think i don't notice how you stare at me all the time, i'm not dumb."

with no more walls to hide behind or wine bottles to blame his business on, all he has left is you, him, and the few inches of space that separate your hot bodies. "y/n..."

"what's wrong, boss?" you lift your head to meet his unreadable gaze, your eagerness from the confrontation somehow still fueling the fire, "cat got your tongue?"

"you..." diluc is genuinely speechless, being able to do nothing other than bringing his hand up to cup your small flushed face. his thumb grazes your bottom lip as his mind roams the endless possibilities that this moment could turn into. his other arm finds itself wandering to your hips, pulling you into to his body and finally closing that painful gap that held you two apart. "you're insufferable," he whispers out.

"so," you sigh out a shaky breath, "whats it gonna be, 'luc?" your arms slide up and around his neck and pull him down closer to your face as you continue, "are you gonna leave me high and dry again," your hand entangles itself in his red curls, pulling the slightest bit as he takes in a sharp inhale, "or are you finally gonna take what's waiting right in front of you?"

both of you knew this was bound to happen one way or the other, the question just came to who would make the first move. its almost as if a clock was ticking for years and it finally went off; after all of the lingering touches and spared glances, the building tension and mutual pining—everything came to this. diluc lustfully envelops your lips in his as he pulls you impossibly closer, taking in everything you have to offer and more.

no words are said as your positions are switched when he hits your back into the wall behind you, earning himself a labored gasp from your lungs. this felt better than you had ever imagined; all those times you spent lying awake, fantasizing about your boos no less. its not like he's a saint, though. the young master has spent many nights staring at his ceiling, cursing his mind for plaguing himself with thoughts of you, shaking and begging beneath him.

the air seems to have gotten a considerable amount thicker as it's suddenly hard to breathe as strained gasps and broken moans fill the dim room.

"you have no idea how long i've waited to fuck you senseless, y/n." he forces out in between muffled kisses as your tongue passes over his lips, using this as an invitation to take your breath away with open-mouthed kisses as his hands begin to traverse your curves beneath your clothes.

"diluc, i-" you gasp out, taken aback by unanticipated intensity that he assaults you with.

"oh, now what's this, angel? cat got your tongue?" he mocks, diving back into your lips, never giving you a chance to catch your breath.

he carefully lifts your shirt in a silent plea for you to take it off; despite hit hurried nature, he's still got a hint of respect left. indulging in his wishes, you dispense of the garment, leaving just a simple bra in between him and your skin. all you can manage to get out is a broken whine, hovering close over the line of being way to lewd for the setting. getting impatient, diluc slips a hand past the waistband of your pants and begins to rub small circles into your aching bud.

the tent forming in his now tight trousers doesn't slip past you as he continues his effort on your searing core, working the most sinful sounds out of your kiss-flushed lips.

"oh, 'luc," you whimper out, grabbing his wrist in an insincere effort to pull him away for your heat as his fingers slip into your wet cunt, "please—"

"yeah, lemme hear you, baby," he mindlessly grinds into your hip with his continued ministrations, "oh, archons—gotta get you ready for me, yeah? 're ya gonna take it all f'me?" you have no idea where this side of him is coming from but zero complaints will ever be heard from you. "you look so pretty all breathless for me, angel," his fingers hit that bundle of nerves within you that have your head thrown back and your legs quivering beneath you, threatening to give out.

you love this feeling—his large frame looming over yours as he undoes you with his skilled hands. the tent forming in his trousers is nearly unbearable at this point as his lustful eyes watch every twitch he sends through your wavering body.

diluc slides his fingers out of your leaking heat, bringing them up to taste the slick that has accumulated up on his digits, pulling a deep groan out from his throat. impatient and insatiable, he drags your pants and underwear down all together, leaving your bare cunt out. the cold air biting at your core with the added embarrassment of being exposed in front of someone who is basically staring holes through you causes you to try and cover up, but diluc is quick to grab hold of your wrists.

"do you not want it?" he teases, a hint of worry and sincerity behind his dark tone.

"no, i—" you sharply inhale as you feel his cock spring out from his pants and hit your naked thigh, dumbstruck by the sheer size of him, "i, um..."

"you... what?" his head lowers as he presses kisses and marks all down your neck, "darling, if you don't tell me what you want, how will i know, hm?"

at this point you're contemplating if you should even continue this; the mere thought of his dick being inside of your tight little hole is enough to make anyone shudder; it's huge. unfortunately, you're way too hot and way too deep in this to deny it. luckily though, you have just enough spunk left to fuck with him.

"d—don't try and act all high and, mmmhh, and mighty, just because you're finally about to fuck me," you stumble a bit, but eventually get it out, "last time i checked, y—you had to fuck your hand in the bathroom because me ass brushed up against y—diluc!!"

amused and a bit fed up with your antics, diluc pushes his tip in past your wet folds without warning, earning a deep groan from his lungs. archons, the way he can feel you stretch around him; he could relive that moment forever. he hikes your legs up around his hips, pressing his length farther into your lewd hole, procuring the most licentious lascivious looks and noises from your pretty face. he says nothing as he sits still for a moment as he acclimates himself to the asphyxiating feeling of you enveloping him completely.

"i'm gonna start moving," he uses one hand to guide your face to meet his gaze, "is that alright with you, y/n?"

you melt under his light but assertive touch, mindlessly nodding to agree. he languidly pulls himself out and slowly slides back in with his lips slightly parted in concentration.

it takes little to no time for him to reach a sickening pace, pounding into your poor cunt as you gasp out, no longer trying to keep a quiet voice. having already been worked up by him earlier, you were quick to reach your climax. all it took was the suffocating feeling of his cock hitting you right there as you unfolded in his grasp.

"oh, y/n—fuck, i'm close," he huffs out as he thrusts into you at a sickening pace, his rhythm faltering as he nears his limit. "ahh—ah!" he stutters out while his hot cum spills into your core. whispers of profanity are thrown around as you both ride out the high, gasping for any air you can intake. he looks beautiful like this. his red curls loose in his hair tie, flowing over his tensed shoulders with little pieces stuck to his forehead. his face displays an expression of one that you could paint so many pictures of in your mind.

with both of you heaving in the afterglow, reality snapped back into diluc’s mind. his eyes widen in a panic-stricken manner as his hands fly up to grasp your shoulders, "oh... oh my archons.... i'm so sorry, y/n, i..." hes speechless. what got into him?

you, breathless, just want to go somewhere and lay down somewhere comfortable. ""luc, its fine, i came onto you and i probably shouldn't have pushed you like that—"

"no no, are you okay? did.... did i hurt you at all? archons..." his hands come up to run through his unkempt hair.

sensing his increasing anxiety, you pull his hands down and gently place them on your bare hips. "diluc," you wait until he meets your gaze, "im okay. more than okay, actually."

"..y/n...." for someone who was so insanely explicit, he's rather quiet now as a hint of a blush falls upon his face.

on your tippy toes, you stretch up to place a chaste kiss on his cheek after you finish redressing. "i need to get going, okay? i'll see you tomorrow when i come in for my shift."

just as you begin to walk out, his hand reaches out to lightly wrap around your dainty wrist in protest, an unreadable expression covering his face.

"um..." he definitely wasn't ready to say whatever he was thinking, if he was thinking at all in that moment, but he never let go of your wrist. "i've got a nice shower at the manor.. if you'd like."

a smile creeps over your complexion, "that sounds wonderful, 'luc, thank you." your hand moved to intertwine it with his. "but... try not to go rogue on me this time, okay? i was surprised by you back there."

this time?? is there even going to be another time? the mere thought of this possibly happening again is enough to fry his brain, but his embarrassment from his previous unhinged manner is the only thing he's able to focus on right now. "gods... i really am sorry, y/n. i... i just finally had you after wanting you for so long and i just snapped."

"yeah, snapped my back." you giggle out.

walking back to the winery, you remember how you got here in the first place. kaeya was a good wingman whether he knew it or not.

maybe from now on, your boss doesn't have to be just your boss.

#the ending is rushed ik #diluc ragnvindr #diluc ragnivindr smut #diluc x fem!reader #diluc x you #diluc x reader #diluc smut #genshin diluc #genshin smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact

419 notes · View notes

undercoverpan · 1 year ago

Text

Aonider? Spidung? No good names for this ship im afraid

Neteyam is going to kill someone.

Preferably Aonung.

It all started this morning. He spent his time walking along the shores as he enjoyed the breeze. His mother and father spent so much time fretting over him, and while he did appreciate it, it was getting unbearable. He wasn't made of glass and he didn't need to be babied.

It was this morning when he saw footsteps in the sand. He recognized Spiders instantly, and after almost a complete year, he recognized Aonungs' too. What could those 2 possibly be doing together?

Aonung is so weird around Spider. The second that Neteyam or his family walk in on him talking to Spider, he turns tail and runs off. And Neteyam is no fool, he suspects that the other is harassing Spider just like he did with his brother and sister. He supposed the other got wise and tried to hide it, but now is the perfect chance to catch him in the act.

Quickly, he followed their tracks. He quiets his footsteps when he catches a glimpse of them, taking cover behind a rock. Sneakily, he watched them.

Aonung had his large hands near Spider's face, his fingers brushing gingerly against his mask. He had to hold himself back from stepping out right then and there. He had this look on his face, a smile, but not the cruel and mean one he sent towards him and his siblings before. No, this one seemed almost….soft, in a way. He said something that made Spider laugh.

He saw Aonung put something in Spiders' hair. It was pretty, ornate; he recognized small shells and pearls in the design.

It was not something you'd casually give to someone you barely know.

In fact, if Neteyam thought really hard, it looked like a courting gift. But that's insane, Aonung courting Spider? Without even asking permission from his family? Without asking his? Preposterous. Impossible.

Neteyam had shoved Aonung to the ground, hissing at him. He felt Spider tugging at him, but chose to ignore it for now. "What is this?" He asked, "What's going on here?"

Aonung looked startled, then embarrassed.

"Nothing, forest boy! Why are you out here anyway? Shouldn't you be resting?" He grounded out as he got back up, smart enough to not try to reach out to Spider, or even glance at him. Neteyam only glared at him, grabbing him by his arm. "If you want to do this, then you do this properly. You will not disrespect me, Spider or our family." He hissed as he walked off towards their marui. Spider tried to follow, but he hissed at him and told him to help out somewhere. The other looked hurt.

That's how the others woke up to Neteyam standing with his hand clasped firmly around Aonungs bicep.

"Neteyam? What are you doing; you're supposed to be taking things easy." His father said as he approached his son. The boy was clearly agitated, his tail whipping like a live wire. "I think Aonung has something to ask us." He said through gritted teeth, glaring daggers at the Na'vi. Jake approached them cautiously, worry evident in his eyes. He glanced between the two. He could feel Neytiri at his side, Lo'ak, Kiri and Tuk not too far behind them. The air was heavy as they all focused on the 2 boys.

"I…wanted to ask you, and your family, Jake Suli, if I can have your blessing to……court Spider."

"Fuck no!" Lo'ak said immediately. Jake had to agree, while Aonung was a respectable young man, he didn't want him courting his son. He felt a protective sort of anger rising in him.

"No."

Neytiri's voice was sharp as it rang out. She stepped forward, taking the lead on the proposal.

"No, you do not have my permission to court my son."

My son.

That's the first time Neytiri called him that, and he's not here to hear it.

_____

Jake was strewn across the floor, knife in hand. He sharpened it, so deep in thought that he hardly noticed himself narrowly avoiding some missing fingers.

Spider was too young to date. He was much, much too young. Sure, on earth you start with that kind of stuff earlier, but Pandora was safe from that behaviour. Then there's the official 'claiming each other as mates' part, the 'mating before Eywa' part. He didn't–, he's obviously not going to think of his son like that, but Spider was just a boy, a human one at that. Even he and Neytiri never…. Did it while in his human body. Spider's just too fragile.

No, no, they were right to reject the proposal. Spider should only start dating in his 30s.

And if Aonung or anyone else tried courting him without their blessing….

"Ow." Jake said in surprise, holding up his hand to inspect a small cut on his finger.

_____

Night has fallen, and Spider is tucked into the Sullies sleeping forms. He's angry at Neteyam, so he's nuzzled between Lo'ak and Kiri. He came home upset, with this beautiful ornament in his hair. Aonung didn't do anything, he insisted, what did you do to him? He won't even talk to Spider anymore. He's mad, and he has every right to be, but still.

He's no clue about courting, or mating, or anything like that. As his father, he'll make sure it stays that way. As his parents, his brothers and sisters, they'll make sure.

____

Aonung sleeps on his own. He's got a small bead in his hand, made of wood rather than anything the Metkayina would usually use.

Spider's gift. Reciprocation.

As he stared up at the ceiling, he smiled. Maybe he should just go for it, instead of asking for permission.

______

Jake would stand threatening with a gun when giving his child's partner the shoveltalk

#spider socorro #avatar twow #jake sully #miles spider socorro #avatar spider #miles socorro #aonung

308 notes · View notes

daddysfangirls-dc · 4 months ago

Text

The Arrangement

Ch 5- Preparing for Dinner

Damian Wayne x OC!Female

Prev | Next

They Gathered around a few paces away from the threshold of the kitchen, listening to the commotion of dishes and smelling the delicious aroma of food wafting out of the kitchen.

"What is he doing?" Tim whispered

"I don't know," Dick returned.

"He's preparing tonight's dinner." They turned around to find Damian with a less-than-impressed look.

"This is a lot for a simple Saturday family dinner," Stephanie said, still trying to figure out the collective smell.

"It is not a simple dinner," he said as he walked past them to the kitchen, opening the door but not stepping past the threshold. The others came up behind him, looking inside. As chaotic as the kitchen appeared, Alfred had an aura of control. " My fiance is attending."

"Your fiance?!"

"Yes, the madam is attending this evening," Alfred said

"We need to prepare."

"I couldn't agree more, Master Bruce," Alfred said, patting his hands on his apron. He picked up some papers and began to pass them out to the others.

"What is this?" Tim asked

"Chores. We must prepare the house for the lady's arrival. I'll have nothing out of place."

"Alfred, this isn't-" That look, that look that tells you to shut up and nothing is up from questioning.

"Nothing. Out. Of. Place."

"Yes, sir," Bruce said meekly, knowing his place in this situation. The manor was now Alfred's, and everyone was falling in line. Their chore list was relatively short, just telling them to clean up their specific areas, mainly their bat things. A smelling cleaning crew was already working its way through the house.

"What about Damian?" Stephanie pointed accusingly at said person. He just glared at her finger.

"Damian already has his duties." Damian pulled out his car keys, dangling them.

"Where are you going?" Jason asked.

"To tend to my fiance," and with that, he left, leading his siblings and father in the capable hands of Alfred. All will be well, hopefully.

Damian entered the apartment as quietly as possible, putting the garment bags on the kitchen table. In the living room, Syn lay across the couch, eyes closed, with an open book on her chest. " Do you plan to sleep all day?"

"No, I was seemly resting my eyes while waiting for you."

"I have arrived," he says, entering the kitchen. She gets up, putting her book-hidden dagger on the coffee table.

"What did you bring?"

"I have five dresses for you to choose from. They should match the shoes you already have." He replaced a sandwich he had just made in front of her. " Eat. Then, we take a quick shower to start getting ready."

"The dinner is in several hours." Syn did not play into the myth of females taking hours to get ready. She doesn't like the idea of people waiting for or being late. If it was trained into her by the Lwague or her family, she did not remember, but it stuck.

"I want to debrief you on the family. Your information might be stale, but I want you to be adequately prepared. Plus, I want you to have time to try on all your dresses. Properly pick one."

"I trust your choice."

"I want you to have an opinion," she sighed. Syn hoped he'd pick something, and she wouldn't have to pick something to impress his family. She'd go by his taste. But now she had to dress to impress, but casually and appropriately. She could do it, but she would rather Damian do it. He was more artistic anyway. She just wasn't in the mood.

"It isn't as bad as you imagine. We have time, so please just try them on." Damian said. Syn sighed but conceded to finishing her sandwich before going to the shower.

"Who all will be there?" she called from preparing her shower. She left the door open so they could hear.

"All my siblings and Stephanie never turn down a free meal or drama. However, Barbara's attendance is unknown and not likely."

Stephanie thought while Damian had grown up and was no longer a brat, he was still stuck up and in no way a fiance in his future. She loved chaos, and she would most definitely pull up a seat for tonight. Barbara was unknown. She wasn't a vulture for the drama and had frequent dinners with her own father. It was more than likely she'd be with her father.

"I'm aware of your father's adoption problem, so tell me about these siblings."

"Same ones as before, no new additions. Dick, Jason, Tim, Cassandra, and Duke. We've been monitoring him, ensuring no new strays." he heard her laugh in the shower. She was well aware of his father's adoption addiction, as his siblings called it. They had a good laugh when he broke his basis and took in Cassandra and Duke, breaking the whole male, blue eyes, black hair routine.

"You think we could convince Alfred to join us?" she asked

"It is a special occasion."

After her shower, Damian dressed her, trying on all Five dresses until settling on a Floral Bustier dress, white with blue flowers paired with white stilettos and heels.

Now Damian was doing her hair while debriefing her on his family. Dick was still in Bludhaven but making frequent visits to Gotham. He also paused the romanize and is no longer dating. Although he spent a lot of time with Babs, no one was saying anything.

Jason was doing much better. The pit madness was no longer a topic of discussion. His gang was helping the community, and he was spending a lot of time with Roy and Lian; no one knew what was happening there, but they weren't going to ask either. He was doing well they were leaving it at that.

Tim was okay being CEO and still working with the Titans and individual cases, and everyone was watching him. His apartment was a revolving door of well-checks at this point.

Cassandra was dancing well with her company and traveling for the business and her cases.

Duke was enjoying college. Most of his days were spent doing things for school classes, homework, and programs. Everyone was very proud.

Stephanie was also in college, although pursuing a different degree. She was also involved in many classes and programs. Everyone was doing their best to help and decrease their caseload. They were going to ensure they graduated.

Barbara was doing food and, as the head of Gotham City public library, was working on new programs and even putting in some upcoming public foundations.

All of his siblings, official and unofficial, were doing well.

"Any topics off limits?"

"Besides the obvious? " The spleen, the chair, the rage, the titan tower, and emotional constipation. Anyone who knew the family well knew only to approach these topics if necessary, and most were never necessary.

She leaned her head back into his hands. " You are more than prepared for the individuals that will be at this dinner."

"But am I prepared for dinner?"

"No one is ever prepared for dinner," he said as he turned her around and handed her a hand-held mirror showing her what he had done to her hair. He had left her hair done but had decorated it with elaborate small braids, half up and half down, all out of her face.

Beautiful." Her hand hovered over it. She feared touching it would cause it to fall apart. Damian had truly earned his title as an artist in every aspect. " You never cease to amaze me, darling."

"It's a simple style" it wasn't " do you want me to do your makeup next?"

"Do I need makeup?" he held her chin, tilting her head up and running his thumb over her bottom lip.

"No," he pulled away, " I'm going to take a shower." she was too breathless to speak so she nods and watches him walk away to the shower.

She sighed deeply once she heard the shower turn on. Kicking off her stilettos, she gets up, puts his suit on the bed, and takes the laptop into the kitchen, sitting at the counter. She wanted to do a deeper dive on the family Damian gave on overview of personalities and current focuses/amitions but she wanted to know more have more informant be able to contribute to the family conversations.

She hated to admit it, but she treated the dinner like a mission and the family like targets, and she always researched her target. The goal of this mission was to earn favor with the Wayne family.

She could do this.

#dc comics #dc universe #fanfiction #robin #batman #damian al ghul #damian wayne #fanfic #damian wayne fanfiction #damian wayne fanfic #damian al ghul x oc #damian wayne al ghul #damian wayne x oc #damian

34 notes · View notes

razorblade180 · 11 months ago

Text

Thief’s Gambit

After a routine patrol of Vacou, Carmine sits on a rooftop, quietly on a rooftop. Normally she’d be ready to return home, but tonight she was given an anonymous request to wait at the Kingdom’s central location. Not one to ignore suspicious events, Carmine didn’t dare ignore the request. She’d get her answers soon enough. After all, there was someone already approaching behind her.

???: Such a goodie two shoes. It’s really impressive.

Carmine:What do you want, Mona?

Mona:Abrasive as ever. I thought you would’ve been a little surprised to learn I sent the request. After all, I really can’t stand you.

Carmine:Which is why I’m not surprised. *turns around* So what? Is this where you pull your daggers out and “settle the score?” I have to warn you I am incredibly tired and won’t hesitate to arrest-

Mona:Blah blah blah! Let me speak god damnit! You long winded types are so annoying. I’m here to ask you for a once in a lifetime favor. And before you say anything, no, it has nothing to do with a dumb relic sword.

Carmine:Wasn’t thinking about it until you said something. Not like I have access to it anyway. Cut to the chase already.

Mona:Later on tonight, I will be meeting with Aero and officially be resigning from his little gang. Do not tell him I’ve met with you. Soon I shall-

Carmine:No.

Mona:What? I haven’t even told you my favor in full yet!

Carmine:My opinion of you is rock bottom. Even so, you’re no idiot and do think of other’s feelings. It’s the leash Aero has on you that stops me from arresting you repeatedly and you know that. So…leaving the gang only means one thing. You’re planning on doing something completely out of line. You don’t want them associated and you don’t care about going to jail.

Mona:Heh, wow. There really is brain behind those annoying scarlet eyes. Too bad it only works for justice and is only half right. I don’t plan on rotting in a cell. If- When I pull this off, it’ll mean you’ll never see me again.

The air between them fell silent, Carmine’s curiosity piqued. Though she wasn’t sure that was good, given how Mona casually walked closer with her hands behind her head and stopped the the building’s ledge to look at the kingdom.

Mona:May favor is simple. I am going to do something horrible, and I need you to look the other way.

Carmine:I think you forgot how I spend my days making sure horrible things don’t happen. Plus I’d never make a promise with something that vague.

Mona:Ugh, I can see why you don’t have friends. Listen, I’m not telling you to not do your job. As a matter of fact, do all you can to save the innocent, but only that. Don’t come after me. Keep your pretty little eyes on the situation at hand and be the good little girl people think you are. Although we both know despite my “goodie little two shoes” remark, you’re more than willing to raise a little hell for the sake of humanity. It’s the only fun thing about you.

Carmine:You’re doing a really bad job of asking for favors.

Mona:Come now. Don’t pretend you don’t love the idea of never dealing with me again. You hate me as much as I hate you.

Carmine:I couldn’t care less about you honestly. You’re a broken person who’s no good for the people around her. Not that it’s your fault for being so…you. In fact if there’s anything we can agree on it’s how your mother should be put through hell and back.

Mona:Heh, fair enough. You saying we might’ve actually enjoyed each other’s company?

Carmine:Hell if know. As it stands, you’re like an ill dog in the Pound. Nobody can afford to take you in and nobody will be surprised when you suddenly aren’t around anymore.

Mona:Won’t stop a certain someone for being sad though. Perhaps I haven’t been phrasing this correctly. Don’t count this a favor to me. Consider it as doing Aero one. Like you said, nobody can afford to take me in and I personally never planned on turning my life around. Shouldn’t you be doing everything possible to cut me out of his life as quickly as possible?

Carmine:….

Mona:Look, I can’t promise you completely safety of civilians, but this kingdom has no shortage of heroes and huntsmen. All I can tell you is this, be near the slums at eight at night. Not s minute before, understand? I’m sure between you, your mother, father, and Aero’s parents, no innocent people will die. After all, I’m not trying to hurt innocent people.

Carmine:But you are trying to hurt someone?

Mona:Duh. It’s not like you don’t do the same to further your agenda. Let me fulfill mine and the rest is history.

Carmine:…I refuse to promise I will turn a blind eye. However, I won’t tell Aero. And maybe…I’ll drag my feet a little.

Mona:Hahaha! Works for me I guess. You really are stubborn, but not unreasonable. You have an annoying way of knowing the best course, even when it isn’t popular. I guess that’s the one thing I admire about you.

Mona took off the scarf that symbolized her affiliation to the gang. Honestly she was never the biggest fan of it considering it was inspired by the very girl who stood before her. It’s only fitting it should return to her.

Carmine stared with unblinking eyes at Mona’s gesture. Strange. The notorious bandit held a twinge of pain in her eyes. Maybe…no, Carmine didn’t allow herself to even fantasize about a different outcome between them. In the end, some things are simply beyond anyone’s control. Carmine took the thin, blue silk scarf into her custody; at the very least she could treat this request seriously no matter her final decision when it comes to pass. Carmine tore the scarf in half from the middle and wrapped a portion around Mona’s arm.

Mona:What are you doing?

Carmine:For better or for worse, you were once apart of something bigger. I see no reason for you to leave empty handed. I’ll find a use for the other half eventually.

Mona:Whatever you say. Welp, see ya never, probably. At least not in this scorching dump. Remember, this talk never happened. Oh, one final thing, a token of wisdom from your elder. You might want to consider working on your people skills.

Carmine:…..

And just like that, the notorious gem of the slums fell back into the city lights. Carmine couldn’t even see the woman anymore. She’d be lying if she said she felt unbothered. No good comes from a person as chaotic as Mona getting serious. All Carmine was certain of was despite her own gifts, this was the last time she’d see that messy blue hair in Vacou ever again.

#rwby #rwby au #rwbabies #mona paulo furem #carmine arc rose #rwby rosebud

23 notes · View notes

blackjackkent · 8 months ago

Text

A number of possible drabble ideas rattling around in my head for the aftermath of this post from yesterday, with Rakha's first resisting choice against the Dark Urge. First one off the pile is Lae'zel, though, bc their kinda-sorta friendship took a hit with Alfira's death and it made me sad.

-----

The girl lives. The beast sleeps. Rakha leans heavily against the wall of the grove sanctum and hisses a heavy breath between her teeth, watching Wyll and Arabella walk out into the sunlight outside. There is a strange prickling anxiety scratching at the back of her skull, but she does not know how to define it.

"Are you well?" Lae'zel's low rasp interrupts her thoughts.

"No," Rakha answers bluntly.

A pause. Lae'zel's head tips slightly to one side. "The girl lived. The matter requires no further thought. But you are... preoccupied."

Rakha's jaw works. "You need not pretend concern for my well-being," she mutters. "I heard you this morning. With the death of the bard, I have broken trust."

A frown flickers across Lae'zel's face briefly. "Chk. We travel together, regardless. We have shared battle. You think my concern is pretense?"

"Why should it not be?"

Lae'zel lets out a slow exhale. "And if it were," she says neutrally, "that would trouble you?"

Perhaps she is right to be surprised. Rakha hardly understands her own emotions, let alone expresses them for anyone else to see. "You led me from the nautiloid. You have answered my questions in plain language. You have not treated me like a fool. You understand violence. You did not fear me." A long, long pause. "And I have answered you poorly."

A pause. Lae'zel's expression is impassive, unreadable.

"The girl lived. But only just," Rakha goes on after a little while, more to herself than to the gith. "It would have been easy to kill her. A jerk of the head. The serpent's fangs. And then nothing." A pause. "I thought she would die. I could feel it stirring."

"It?"

"The... beast..." Rakha frowns. It is the first time she has tried to articulate this to anyone. "There is something within me that rips and tears. A mad animal. When it rises... there is little left of me."

Her jaw works. "That is what killed the bard. I woke to find it feeding on her corpse. But this girl..." A long, long pause. "It sought her death. I stared it down, and it slept again. It did not strike."

Silence. Lae'zel rests a hand casually against the dagger at her hip, but does not draw it.

Rakha's shoulders hunch with an air of muted embarrassment. "You told me... to attack with purpose," she mutters. "To make a choice of my kills. To spill blood with reason. I... The beast does not give me that choice. It takes."

Lae'zel quirks an eyebrow up thoughtfully. "It was not about the girl, then," she says slowly. "It was about the choice."

Yes. Even now, Lae'zel understands, better than anyone else she travels with. "I am not a monster," she says hollowly, and as she speaks the words she realizes fully, for the first time, that the possibility has frightened her. "I did not wish to kill the bard. Her death did not serve us. But I was not strong enough to stop it."

Lae'zel looks at her steadily, then gives a sharp nod. "I believe you."

Rakha relaxes slightly.

"And it was not pretense," Lae'zel goes on after a short pause. "From the moment we took the worms in our heads, we became ra'stil'i. Allies. Should you become a danger, I will slay you, as I would have you slay me. This is as it should be. But if you speak true of this... 'beast', then you showed strength this day. I do not say that lightly."

#bjk plays bg3 durge #rakha the dark urge #i meant to post this earlier in the evening whoops #oh well #here it is anyway XD

10 notes · View notes

twoidiotwriters1 · 7 months ago

Text

The Curse of Oenone (Leo Valdez xFem!Oc)

A/N: Are we ready for the last ten chapters of this book? Let's GOOO -Danny Words: 2,751 Series' Masterlist Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

L: Wish I Lacked Critical Thinking Skills, Y'all Seem So Happy

"Okay, guys, this isn't funny anymore..."

The seven teenagers look up when Jason enters the Mess Hall. He looks like he's wearing kid's clothing, which causes the entire crew to spit out their breakfast and laugh hysterically.

"Hey, Jason, easy with the growth spurts!" Leo says with a huge smirk on his face.

Since their quarrel four days ago, Leo has been shrinking everything out of pure pettiness. The showerheads can't be rearranged to fit people over 6 feet tall—unless you ask Leo nicely—the doorframes got smaller, and they can't do anything to stop him.

They all love Jason. They also think he's too much of a goody-two-shoes, making him the perfect target for Leo's practical jokes, and they're best friends. It's all harmless fun, really.

"Percy, dude, you gotta be tired of it too," Jason tries to reason, pulling the four-sizes-too-small shirt to cover his abdomen. "You're almost as tall as me."

Percy manages to look condescending when he replies. "Sure thing, Gulliver."

Jason frowns. "Bro, we look the—this is stupid! Here, try this on."

He takes off his shirt and the boys promptly object to it. Leo and Frank cover their girlfriends's eyes. "Man, keep it PG!" Leo complains.

"I know what you're doing!" Jason scoffs, walking to the exit. "Knock it off or I'll hang you upside down on the topmast!"

"Good luck with that," the boy leans back on his seat, casually lighting up the tips of his fingers. "You could get burned."

Jason leaves in a terrible mood and returns with a shirt that's still tighter than it should be, but no one laughs this time, not wanting to push his buttons.

"Piper," Ara says. "You said you knew where to go next?"

"Yeah," Piper seizes her dagger and stares at it frowning. "I just realized this was Helen's. Is this yours, then, or...?"

Ara's face shows nothing but aversion. "Keep it. You were saying?"

"Right. Uh. It showed me palace ruins, full of spirits."

"Good or bad?"

"Definitely bad."

Everyone groans. "And what do you think it means?" Ara asks.

"Probably that we must go there," Frank stabs his fruit salad.

"Yeah, probably," Piper agrees. "Thing is—I don't recognize the place."

"Well, I might have a way to find it," Hazel offers. "If there are so many spirits in that place, I could ask around."

"But Nico said you don't have death-related powers?" Ara raises a brow.

"Yeah, but I can still commune with some spirits. I was dead once, remember?"

The others seem slightly tense when she says that, but Ara grins. "Alright. Annabeth?"

"I'm thinking," replies the girl, still pondering.

"And I love that about you," Ara presses. "About what?"

"I'm trying to recall what kind of place would hold so many spirits in the ancient lands, but I need more information for an educated guess. If Hazel can get it, that'd be helpful."

"Hazel, we're counting on you," Ara gets up. "Enjoy breakfast—I'll be upstairs if you need me."

Jason sits down to eat. Leo's eyes widen slightly, and he quickly follows her out. As they leave the room, Ara hears something hitting the table and Jason self-censors his swearing when his knees slam against the underside. The rest laugh again as Leo picks up his pace and pushes her forward.

"I think it's time you stop torturing Jason," she chuckles, climbing up the stairs to the upper deck.

"Not yet, I enjoy the fear in his eyes when he steps into the same room I'm in," Leo responds with his crooked grin.

"He's your best friend."

"Our friendship ended thanks to his hate speech, Frank is my best friend now."

"And Frank never made rude comments about you," Ara says sarcastically.

"I choose Nico, then."

"The same Nico that let you believe I was cheating?"

"Sunshine, we have a small crew and everyone is hella mean, I'm willing to appoint Bufford as my ride or die if you push it."

"What about me?" Ara complains. "Why am I so far down the list? I should be right after Jason!"

Leo rolls his eyes. "That's different, mi amor. I don't make out with my besties."

"You sure? The tension between you and Jason certainly leaves room for speculation..."

The boy elbows her playfully. "I'm not your best friend either," he argues. "Don't try to guilt-trip me! You have Lily and Nico—"

"Nico's not my best friend," Ara walks up to the control board and scans each monitor, her fingers moving over the Archimedes sphere with expertise.

"You keep saying that, but he's the only guy you talk to in codes. That's a very best-friend thing to do."

"We both like doing that but it doesn't mean—"

"Doll, admit it," Leo crouches beside her and pulls out his toolbox.

"My best friend will always be Michael."

"He was your crush, he doesn't count!"

"He counts! I didn't like him that way from the get-go!"

"But when you did who knew about it right off the bat? Nico and Lily."

"Jason knew about my crush on you since the start, does that make him my bestie?"

"Stop twisting my words," he gets up with a screwdriver in hand. "My point still stands, you and I can't be best friends."

"Percy and Annabeth are best friends."

"That's because they don't have other friends. It's like saying your mom is your best friend. Cute, but sad."

"Leónidas, I swear—"

"Ara!" Hazel comes up running. "I did it!"

Ara forgets about Leo's teasing. "What?"

"I only managed to catch a few words, they were pretty frightened. I don't know if they'll be of any help, though..." Hazel catches her breath. "The suitors."

"Why Ithaca?" Piper questions while Ara shows them a map.

"That's where Odysseus's palace used to be," Annabeth explains.

"No, I know that. What I mean is, why would they gather there?"

"That's where they died," Ara responds.

Hazel and Piper both stare at her. "What?"

"Odysseus went cuckoo when he found that those men were stalking Penny—and after ten years at sea, I'd be done with men too. I've been at sea for two months and I'm ready to go full Achilles on some of them," Ara looks at Annabeth with a straight face. "That was a joke."

"But these can't be just the suitors, right?" Hazel asks confused. "There's no way Odysseus killed so many men."

"You know what I'm thinking?" Ara talks with excitement.

"No, but I can't wait to hear it," Annabeth grins.

"The suitors were power-hungry. They weren't there for Penelope, though she was a nice addition."

"They wanted to be kings," Piper raises a brow. "So you're saying..."

Ara stares at the spot on the map representing Ithaca. "Gaea probably tricked them into believing they're competing to see who'll rule after the war."

"That makes a lot of sense," Annabeth looks at her like she's grown overnight, which she did, though it's a little late to get this reaction. "But Gaea wouldn't bring them back just for that."

"Well, they aren't back exactly," Hazel reminds them. "Perhaps the prize is to get a functioning body?"

"A prize for what?" Piper questions. "What are they accomplishing by staying in Ithaca?"

All the girls share a look and Ara sighs, staring at the map with a scowl. "We should take a look."

"IROS! Is that you, you old beggar?"

Ara pushes Jason forward, he's disguised as an old man. "That's me! Iros!" He exclaims.

Ara slips into the crowd with Piper and Annabeth, dressed up as servers for the feast.

"Guess I'm late to the party. I hope you saved me some food?"

"Ungrateful old panhandler," one ghost sneers. "Should I kill him, Antinous?"

"I'm in a good mood today. Come, Iros, join me at my table."

"I didn't expect to see you here, Iros. But I suppose even a beggar can sue for retribution. Drink. Eat."

The food is definitely not eatable for a normal human. Ara worries, it's been years since she fought ghouls, so they make her nervous. Jason doesn't seem to care about them, he's only glaring at the food. He is in many ways similar to her, but at the core, they're opposites.

He's a cold-headed leader who thinks of every choice before taking a stance. Ara doesn't care for consequences as long as she gets closer to her goals. She's hot-headed, and an emotional fighter. It's always better to be like Jason in moments like this one.

Nonetheless, Jason surprises her by grabbing a piece of meat, biting into it, and then gulping down the suspicious liquid inside his goblet in just the same way she would've done. He miraculously survives the ordeal but turns green with dislike.

"Yum! Now tell me about this... what did you call it? Retribution? Where do I sign up?"

"Tell me, Iros, what do you have to offer? We don't need you to run messages for us like in the old days. Certainly you aren't a fighter. As I recall, Odysseus crushed your jaw and tossed you into the pigsty."

"You made me fight Odysseus. You bet money on it. Even when Odysseus took off his shirt and you saw how muscular he was... you still made me fight him. You didn't care if I lived or died!" Jason complains.

"Of course I didn't care. I still don't! But you're here, so Gaia must have had a reason to allow you back into the mortal world. Tell me, why are you worthy of a share in our spoils?"

"What spoils?"

"The entire world, my friend. The first time we met here, we were only after Odysseus's land, his money and his wife."

"Especially his wife! That Penelope was a hot little honey cake!" Shouts a random ghost.

"Eurymachus, you whining coward. You never stood a chance with Penelope. I remember you blubbering and pleading for your life with Odysseus, blaming everything on me!"

"Lot of good it did me. Odysseus shot me in the heart, just because I wanted to marry his wife!"

"At any rate... We have gathered now for a much bigger prize. Once Gaia destroys the gods, we will divide up the remnants of the mortal world!"

Annabeth and Ara share a look, that's obviously never going to happen. But why did Gaea bring all these men here?

"What about the rest of these... guests? I count at least two hundred. Half of them are new to me."

"All of them are suitors for Gaia's favour. All have claims and grievances against the gods or their pet heroes. That scoundrel over there is Hippias, former tyrant of Athens. He got deposed and sided with the Persians to attack his own countrymen. No morals whatsoever. He'd do anything for power."

"Thank you!"

"That rogue with the turkey leg in his mouth—that's Hasdrubal of Carthage. He has a grudge to settle with Rome. And Michael Varus—"

Jason makes a weird noise with his throat. "Who?"

Ara notices the guy wearing a Camp Jupiter T-shirt. He's far away, yet she can see the tattoo on his forearm... A son of Janus.

"He's a Roman demigod. Lost his legion's eagle in... Alaska, was it? Doesn't matter. Gaia lets him hang around. He insists he has some insight into defeating Camp Jupiter. But you, Iros, you still haven't answered my question. Why should you be welcome among us?"

This guy lost the eagle that Frank, Hazel, and Percy retrieved last June. Ara gets the sudden urge to hide Jason and rush out of the scene, but Annabeth notices their uneasiness and approaches. "More wine, my lord? Oops!"

"Gahh!" The ghoulish man squirms when Annabeth drops liquid on his clothes. "Foolish girl! Who let you back from Tartarus?"

"A Titan, my lord—May I bring you some moist towelettes? Your arrow is dripping."

"Begone!"

Jason stabs the table suddenly, catching their attention. "Why should you welcome me? Because I'm still running messages, you stupid wretches! I've just come from the House of Hades to see what you're up to!"

"You expect me to believe Gaia sent you—a beggar—to check up on us?" Antinous scowls.

"I was among the last to leave Epirus before the Doors of Death were closed! I saw the chamber where Clytius stood guard under a domed ceiling tiled with tombstones. I walked the jewel-and-bone floors of the Necromanteion!" Jason replies dramatically.

Ara's eyes are on Michael, trying to figure out if he's a good omen sent by his father, a taunt of the fates, or simple misfortune. Maybe a mix of all.

"So, Antinous... Maybe you should explain to me why you're worthy of Gaia's favour," Jason keeps talking. "All I see is a crowd of lazy, dawdling dead folk enjoying themselves and not helping the war effort. What should I tell the Earth Mother?"

"If you come from Gaia, you must know we are here under orders. Porphyrion decreed it." Antinous takes the knife Jason placed on the table and cuts his palm to show how it reforms. "You do know Porphyrion..?"

"The giant king—green skin, forty feet tall, white eyes, hair braided with weapons. Of course I know him. He's a lot more impressive than you."

"Now, now, friend!" Eurymachus hugs Jason sideways. "I'm sure we didn't mean to question your credentials! It's just, well, if you've spoken with Porphyrion in Athens, you know why we're here. I assure you, we're doing exactly as he ordered!"

"The Acropolis," Jason's tone changes slightly. "The most ancient temples to the gods, in the middle of Athens. That's where Gaia will wake."

"Of course! And, to get there, those meddlesome demigods will have to travel by sea, eh? They know it's too dangerous to fly over land."

"Which means they'll have to pass this island," Jason continues.

"At that point, they'll have to make a choice, eh? The most direct route, would be due east from here, across the Straits of Corinth. But if they try to go that way—"

"Enough," Antinous stops him. "You have a loose tongue, Eurymachus."

"I wasn't going to tell him everything! Just about the Cyclopes armies massed on either shore. And the raging storm spirits in the air. And those vicious sea monsters Keto sent to infest the waters. And of course if the ship got as far as Delphi—"

"Idiot!" Antinous grabs him and starts to disintegrate him.

"No! Please! I-I only meant—"

Gaea put them there to be another pesky obstacle. Gods, and they believe Gaea cares about them! Must be good to be so full of yourself that you think you're necessary to the plans of a primordial being. Annabeth and Ara consider they have gotten all they could, so it's time to flee. Ara clears her throat and seizes Jason's plate.

"Sounds like everything is under control. For your sake, Antinous, I hope so. These demigods are resourceful. They closed the Doors of Death. We wouldn't want them sneaking past you, perhaps getting help from Delphi."

"No risk of that. Delphi is no longer in Apollo's control."

Ara's hand trembles and almost drops the place, but Annabeth quickly holds it. If Apollo isn't in charge of prophecies anymore, who is?

"I-I see. And if the demigods sail the long way around the Peloponnese?"

"You worry too much. That journey is never safe for demigods, and it's much too far. Besides, Victory runs rampant in Olympia. As long as that's the case, there is no way the demigods can win this war."

Jason doesn't understand that, but he nods anyway. "Very well. I will report as much to King Porphyrion. Thank you for the, er, meal."

"Wait." Varus stares at Jason intently. "You must stay."

"What's the problem, legionnaire?" Antinous frowns. "If Iros wants to leave, let him. He smells bad!"

The boy grips his sword. "I lost my cohort twice in Alaska—once in life, once in death to a Graecus named Percy Jackson. Still I have come here to answer Gaia's call. Do you know why?"

"Stubbornness?" Jason offers.

"This is a place of longing," Varus responds. "All of us are drawn here, sustained not only by Gaia's power but also by our strongest desires. Eurymachus's greed. Antinous's cruelty. Hasdrubal's hatred, Hippias's bitterness. My ambition... I would've been a good son of Olympus too," the boy glances at Ara, which sends a shiver down her spine. "And you, Iros. What has drawn you here? What does a beggar most desire? Perhaps a home?"

"I should be going," Jason says. "Messages to carry."

"My father is Janus, the god of two faces," the boy draws out his sword. "I am used to seeing through masks and deceptions. Do you know, Iros, why we are so sure the demigods will not pass our island undetected?"

Ara doesn't pull Almight out of her pocket, there are too many ghouls and ghosts surrounding Jason. "Look, are you in charge here or not?" Jason looks at Antinous. "Maybe you should muzzle your Roman."

"Ah, but this might be entertaining. Go on, Varus."

"Our desires reveal us. They show us for who we really are. Someone has come for you, Jason Grace." The crowd opens and a young woman steps into the scene. One that can only be Jason's mother.

"My dearest... You have come home."

Next Chapter –>

Taglist.

@siriuslysirius1107 @ask-giggles1303 @asnyox-the-hoarder @im-planning-something-look @bandshirts-andbooks @coolninjapaper @thewaterlily @whenisthefall @1randomcomic @you-bloody-shank @sunflowergraves @owlalex44 @taylordaughter @typicalsolangelolover @writingmia @espressopatronum454 @slytherinnqueen @orbitingpolaris @obxstiles @ellipsisspelled @thepixiechicksh @ebony-reine-vibes

#twoidiots writing #pjo fanfic #leo valdez fanfic #doo #leo valdez x oc #heroes of olympus #percy jackson and the olympians

7 notes · View notes

sweetwhispersofchaos · 3 months ago

Text

Eject Chapter 2

Story Summary: Ejecting from your plane in the face of danger? Expected. Forbidden love amongst pilots? Not so much. Will they bond or will this break them for good? Chapter Summary: A funeral, a beach trip, and tough conversation

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Natasha "Phoenix" Trace All the Daggers, Mav x Penny, Amelia, OC's

Warnings: Language. Assault (not by a major character). Injury. Eventual smut. Alcohol consumption. Smoking. Discussions of mental health. (It's a rollercoaster. You've been warned!) Chapter Word Count: 4509 Eject Masterlist

I do not own anything except the original characters!

The funeral had been full of pomp and circumstance. As it should. Rooster had never seen Maverick so distraught and wondered if this even came close to his emotions when his own father had died in his arms. He figured not but decided to stop that train of thought before he could feel much more remorse for the guy. If there was one thing to be said about Rooster, he knew how to hold on tight to a grudge and mean it. Rooster stood next to Phoenix through the whole ceremony. She said nothing as she fell in line next to him, her gaze never leaving the casket in front of them. He glanced down at her, but she never reciprocated. At least not while he was looking. Her stoic face was always mesmerizing to Rooster. So calm, cool, and collected. She gave nothing away. Ever.

After the service was over, Rooster turned to speak to Phoenix, but she had already turned away from him, discussing something with Bob as they walked in the direction of the base vans that brought them to the cemetery. The snub seemed intentional. Rooster spoke briefly to Admiral Kazanskys wife, Sara, and hugged each of the kids, including the daughter he had the childhood kiss with. Tears threatened to leave his eyes. Of course, he was sad about the Admiral, but when he looked at Sara, he saw his mother. Rooster saw Carol Bradshaw, standing over his father’s casket, weeping uncontrollably, while holding his tiny hand. It was one of the few memories from that day that he still remembered. This was eerily familiar territory for him. It was time to bolt before things got away from him. He nodded his head or shook hands with several comrades he was familiar with, then made his way towards the vans.

Just before he reached the vehicle, Hangman stepped into his path, bringing Rooster to a dead stop. The cocky pilot had a look of mirth across his face that Rooster didn’t trust.

“So. New roommate?”

Roosters stomach jumped into his throat. Somehow that was never what he expected to roll casually out of the pricks mouth. How the fuck did this douche know about Phoenix being in his room? Play it cool Rooster, this is neither the time nor the place.

“No idea what you’re talking about.” He glanced down, then back up and stepped around the other pilot to continue walking. Footsteps followed him.

“Aw now, lying isn’t your strong suit, slow ride. Were you playing doctor and patient?”

Rooster snorted and kept walking, deciding that a sure-fire way to be scrubbed from this mission was to cause a scene at the Admirals funeral. He heard Hangman’s chuckle behind him as he climbed into the van behind Payback. That guy has a lot of nerve. But how did he know? He highly doubted Bob would say anything to the asshole. Shit. Shit. SHIT. He needed to speak with Phoenix. Know where her head was on this. See if she thought damage control was needed. As much as he felt for her, he didn’t want anything to hinder her career. She was too good at what she did to throw it away on him. He decided he would wait until her hop was over that night to ask her how she wanted to proceed with this new information.

Not long after the squadron arrived back on base, a Group Me message went out from Cyclone. All hops for the afternoon and evening were scrubbed. They were to meet him in the classroom at 6AM tomorrow for an important mission briefing. The message was vague and a little jarring. Something was up.

Rooster thought about his next move. No hop means that Phoenix was available to talk. But he didn’t want to just rush over to her room and seem too anxious. He needed to approach this as smooth and nonchalant as possible, so he didn’t give away his true feelings. Maybe a trip to the beach and The Hard Deck? Public. Nothing to fear right?

Before he could pick up his phone to text her, there was a knock at his door. When he answered he was greeted by his favorite smirk. She stood leaning against the wall next to his door, arms crossed, looking up at him.

“No flight. Wanna get out of here?” she asked coolly.

“You read my mind. Beach and Hard Deck? He replied almost too enthusiastically.

“Meet you downstairs in 10.” And she turned to walk back to her room.

10 minutes later she cruised casually down the stairs, a blue Naval academy tank top and tiny black shorts hugging her gorgeous frame. She already had her aviators on her face, backpack on her back.

She pulled her shades down her nose and looked over Rooster, wearing his usual Hawaiian shirt, shorts, and sandals. “Packing light?” she asked.

“I don’t need much. Ready?”

She walked past him to the door and gave him a “roger that” as she disappeared through the glass opening. He chuckled and followed suit. Rooster walked behind her to his Bronco and placed his hand on the passenger door handle, ready to open it for her. She raised an eyebrow, looking down at his hand on the door handle then looked up at him and the cocked eyebrow softened into a slight smile. “Thanks Bradley” she said, barely louder than a whisper, her eyes never leaving his.

His stomach jumped into his throat. They almost never used first names in their line of work. He could probably count on one hand how many times he had heard a coworker use his first name, and he’s not sure he had ever used hers. He knows her name well, but they have always just been Phoenix and Rooster. He took a cool breath and decided turn-around was fair play on this one.

“Oh, are we on first name basis now, Natasha?” he threw back, slight sarcasm biting her name as it fell from his mouth.

She continued to stare into his eyes, a slight look of confusion crossing her face, then she smiled and said “There’s always a first time for everything. And, for the record, it’s just Nat.”

He melted. Standing right there, holding the door handle to his truck. What on earth was going on here? He was searching her eyes for a hint of an answer. But she just continued to smile a thin, almost smug smile while looking into his eyes. The burning in his body was overwhelming. His vision was beginning to blur.

The level of restraint to stop what was about to happen just about knocked him off his feet. He could barely breath, being that close to her. First names were intimate. Standing this close, in civilian clothing, was intimate. Everything about this seemed too intimate. Rooster could tell she sensed that too because she took a step back so he could open the door. He waited until she climbed in before closing the door and sauntering over to the driver’s side. He was feeling a little taller than normal. As he slid into his seat, he looked over to see her resting her head back, face towards the sun, eyes closed, a slight grin on her face. Oh, to know what was going through that pretty mind right now.

This was going to be an interesting afternoon. He knew he had to get to that beach as fast as legally possible and he peeled out of the parking lot, nodding his head to the radio, excitement boiling up inside of him.

*****

It was a Wednesday, so the beach was empty sans a few older people walking dogs or lounging in chairs. After he parked by the Hard Deck, he practically leapt out of the truck then made a quick jaunt around to Nat’s door. When he opened it, she slid out to stand face to face with him, mere inches away. She seemed flustered but let out a soft “Thanks, Bradley” before turning to grab her bag. There it was again, his name. It sounded so good coming from her mouth. He could feel his skin beginning to burn and it wasn’t from the sun.

They walked down the sand to the shoreline, finding a dry spot near a rock outcropping and decided that was a nice spot. Natasha set to pulling two towels from her backpack and placing them out on the sand. Rooster gave her a questioning look from behind his shades.

“I knew you wouldn’t come prepared.” She said with her usual raised eyebrow and loads of sarcasm.

Standing over her he couldn’t help but appreciate just how well she knew him. This may have been staring him in the face for longer than he realized. Had he missed the signals all along?

After the towels she pulled out a stainless-steel water bottle and a small Bluetooth speaker then she knelt onto the smaller of the two towels and began connecting her phone to the speaker. Once an indie rock song kicked on, she looked up to Bradley, who was still standing, gawking at her.

“What was the word Bagman used? Perched?” she said, sticking her tongue out and laughing.

Ouch. Semi-low blow he thought. He made a scoffing face and began to remove his Hawaiian shirt before sitting on the other towel and wrapping his arms around his bent knees. “Happy now?”

“I don’t know. You were creating shade standing there. Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything.” She said with a playful punch to his arm.

He smiled then looked out to the crashing waves. Nat placed her phone in the backpack then sat back, stretching her legs straight out and resting her weight onto her hands behind her. They sat in companionable silence for a while, watching the water and a man playing catch with his large dog.

Nat broke the silence first.

“I want to ask you about something. I know it must be something serious, but I’m hoping you’ll trust me enough to tell me.” She was staring at him now, a look of apprehension resting on her brow.

“You want to know why Mav pulled my papers to the Academy?” he thought back to the first day of flying when he went full stupid behind the stick. She met him on the tarmac after and gave him a good lashing for his behavior. When she asked why he behaved so poorly with Maverick, he let slip that the elder pilot had pulled his papers. When she pressed, he told her not to worry about it then quickly retreated. Now he figured he would have to tell her. He knew he could trust her, but it still seemed like an impossible situation to talk about. He was going to have to give her details of his past he had kept well hidden, even from her.

She sat, waiting silently for him to answer, so he continued. “You remember I told you my dad was Navy, right?”

“Yeah, something about he died when you were young right?”

“I was 3. And he wasn’t just in the Navy. He was a RIO on the F-14 Tomcats.” He paused and watched her face out of the corner of his eye. She seemed more confused now than before, so he went on.

“My dad was a RIO with Maverick. They were best friends. Like brothers. Mav was there when I was born” he took a slow breath and continued “I honestly barely knew my dad. He was gone to sea for a while then he and Mav were sent to Miramar.”

“Top Gun?”

He nodded and cleared his throat to prepare for the next part of the explanation, still staring out at the ocean. “A few days after my mom and I arrived in advance of their graduation, there was an…” he hesitated. “… incident. Mav flew through Iceman’s jetwash.”

“Admiral Kazansky?”

“Yup. And then they went into a flat spin. Mav couldn’t recover it, so they punched out. But dad hit the canopy and…” He trailed off and the silence that fell between them was deafening. “My dad died in Mavericks arms in the middle of the ocean.”

A small hand came to rest on his left bicep, and he looked down at it, staring at her tiny hand on his muscles, trying not to cry, or become angry, or both.

“Oh Bradley, I’m sorry.” She whispered. He nodded then looked back out at the ocean and continued. “Mav became a pseudo dad to me after that. And even Admiral Kazansky to an extent. But Mav, he was there for everything. Well, as much as he could be. My mom and I moved back to Texas, where she was from, so I didn’t see him often, but he called, sent letters and birthday cards, came to my baseball games and stuff when he could. I always called him when I had a big hit or a good date.” He chuckled at that thought. “Mom and I would make trips to see him occasionally as well. I remember watching him fly, meeting a bunch of the other pilots that my dad flew with, and taking tours of carriers. I fell in love with planes and knew from an early age this was what I wanted to do. Mav even set up for me to take a ride in a World War II plane when I was a teenager. It was incredible. I was head over heels in love with being in the air. Mav made sure I was taken care of in his own way. Then as I was getting ready to graduate high school, I find out just weeks before I walked across the stage that he pulled my application to the naval academy. That was it, I was left scrambling to find ways to get where I wanted to go without his help or approval and without so much as a god damned explanation. My mom was even dismissive of it. I think secretly she didn’t want me to fly, so she was ok with a regular university. Until Mav showed up here, I hadn’t spoken to him since the day I received my commission. He called but it was a very short conversation. I think my mom kept sending him updates on me and shit. God love that woman she couldn’t understand why I didn’t just do something else. She just didn’t get it.”

He stopped talking, reeling from his word vomit, and realized her hand was not only still resting on his arm, but her thumb was now rubbing small circles across his skin. He was too exhausted from the emotional roller coaster he just spewed from his mouth to even worry about her show of affection.

“How come you never told me all of this before?” she asked

He wondered if she would ask that. He contemplated his next response, treading carefully. “After my mom died, I didn’t really talk to anyone much. Kept my head down at school, kept quiet at training, I just wasn’t in the talking mood.” He paused, glancing over at her. She was obviously waiting for more. “Especially after I joined the Navy. I didn’t want any of this standing in the way of my progress. The less people knew, the better. I even asked the Admiral to keep it quiet. He agreed he would do the best he could.”

“So you don’t trust me?” she removed her hand from his arm, a small look of disappointment crossing her face.

“It wasn’t about trust. It was about survival.” And not getting too close, he thought.

They sat again in silence then she spoke, going back to the original point of the conversation.

“So, Maverick never told you why?”

“When I asked, he just said it was in my best interest but wouldn’t give me anything else to fucking go on.”

Her hand slipped away from his arm as she rolled up onto her knees, angling her body to face him. She began speaking carefully “So, um, is that why you tend to be hesitant behind the stick. Your dad?”

He only nodded. He knew he was scared. Did he love to fly? HELL YES. But it scared the shit out of him. Everything in the sky reminded him of how fast he could meet the same fate as his father. Being in the plane meant being closest to his dad. But often, flying with that ghost in his cockpit meant flying distracted and fearful.

“Why not try talking to him again? This mission is too serious to be dicking around up there with that big of a chip on your shoulder. I told you I’m going, and I want you to go too. But this has got to stop.” She was firm with her statements. He knew she was right, but he wasn’t going to let go of it that easy. He just looked back to the sea and chose to refrain from response. Now or never, time to change the subject.

“There’s something we need to talk about.” He said, as he peered over the top of his aviators at her. “It seems you were spotted leaving my room a couple days ago.” He watched her waiting for her cool exterior to switch to panic, but it didn’t.

“Hangman. He’s such a prick. You know he’s just going to mess with you about it to get into your head, right?”

“Wait. You knew?” he exclaimed as he pulled his shades off to look at her directly.

She took hers off in a mocking manner to stare him in the eye then sarcastically said “Yes. I saw him and walked right by him as he started to say what I’m sure would have been something of the utmost assholery. But I guess the slamming of my door stopped him.”

Well that wasn’t what he was expecting at all.

“So, you’re not concerned about this?” he asked.

“Why would I be? He’s an idiot and nothing happened. Frankly Hangman’s probably jealous. He’s always been a little irritated that I wouldn’t reciprocate his flirtatious advances back in flight school.” Shock overtook Bradley’s face. “Wait, I’m sorry. What did you just say.”

“You heard me, and I am NOT repeating it. It’s vile. Please don’t regret my telling you.” She smirked and he let out a chuckle as he placed his aviators back on his face. He stood and held his hand out to her.

“Come on, let's go for a walk.”

She replaced her own glasses and stood then she froze. She slowly looked down at their joined hands. Bradley looked down, then with a sheepish grin and some stuttering, removed his hand from hers and held it out as an invitation to walk. They walked past the first set of rocks and continued down the quiet beach.

They walked in and out of the surf in companionable silence for a while. Bradley didn’t know what she was thinking but he was struggling between just blurting out his feelings or ignoring the tension all together until he might explode. They couldn’t afford for things to go sour between them. It was literally a matter of life and death. They had to trust each other in the sky. A relationship could ruin that. Discussion of a relationship could ruin that. They had to talk about this, but it had to be done in a very diplomatic manner. He needed to choose his words very carefully.

Bradley stopped near a second rock outcropping, finding a flat bolder and having a seat on it, with his feet and lower legs resting in the moving surf. He looked at Nat, patted the spot on the smooth surface next to him, and watched her as she came to a seat next to him, her own feet moving around in the water aimlessly.

Deep breaths, Rooster. You can handle this.

“I think we need to talk. But I don’t want things to be weird.”

She chuckled a little then nudged into him with her shoulder playfully. “Aw, are we going to have the talk” she teased.

He didn’t laugh though. And the smile on her face faded slightly as she stared at him.

“Look, I know it seems like something is happening here.” She started. “But I don’t know what that could be in the world we live in and frankly, this mission is too important for anything else to distract us. We just” she paused, inhaling, and exhaling slowly “we just can’t afford to let some attraction, probably just a lust filled attraction based on the fact we haven’t seen each other in so long, get in the way of the danger we face. What happened the other day. We had just faced a difficult situation. It was scary for both of us. I was on good medication and needed some help. Something like that makes people do weird things. But I don’t think we need to worry about it. We have enough to focus on right now. No need to complicate things.” Her words rushed out one right after the other, as if she was trying to convince herself that what she was saying was the full truth.

He couldn’t help but feel disappointed. He knew she was right. Always the voice of reason. It was one of the many things he loved about her. He did not want to be the reason her career was derailed. It hurt that she thought his feelings weren’t real though. That the attraction was just a matter of convenience versus something real.

Bradley decided that was all the discussion that needed to happen. It was all out in the open and obviously that was as far as she wanted things to go. He stood up in the surf, walking around her legs in the water, back up onto the sand and said over his shoulder towards her “I could use a drink. How about you?” and then he made back towards the direction of the Hard Deck as she followed suit.

He placed his hands in his pockets as he walked, and she remained a couple of paces behind him. The tension between them had gone from something flirtatious to something gloomier. He wasn’t sure about her, but he had a small wound on his heart that he now had to hide, for the sake of their jobs and the mission ahead.

*****

After retrieving their items from the beach, they walked to the Bronco to deposit the bag and then made their way into the bar. It was almost empty sans a few older patrons wearing veteran ball caps and swapping war stories over beer. Nat made straight for Penny at the bar, sliding up onto a stool and placing an order for two bottles of domestic. Rooster needed to drown his sorrows in his favorite past time, music. He made his way over to the old piano near some windows and sat down. He began tinkling on the keys, playing nothing in particular.

A bottle of beer appeared on the back of the piano, and he looked up at Nat while still plunking away.

“Where did you learn to play piano? I’ve never asked.” She said as she came to rest in a chair at a small table next to the instrument.

“Both of my parents played.” He said, removing his hands from the piano and taking a large swig of his drink. As he sat the frosty mug back down, he continued explaining. “My mom put me in lessons as soon as I was old enough. We played at home together all the time.” He felt so sad. The pain in his chest trying to crush him. “One of the few memories I have of my dad happened a couple of days before he passed. When my mom and I came to visit at Top Gun. I’m not sure where we were or anything, but I remember him sitting at a piano and playing his favorite song: Great Balls of Fire. And my mom sitting next to him. I played a slow version of the song at her funeral.” He trailed off, a look of sorrow on his face as he took another long draw from his glass.

“Could you play me something?”

He gave her a sad little smirk and nodded, turning back to the piano. His hands came to rest on the keys, and he sat for a moment, thinking of what to play. Then he looked down and began to play the opening refrain of “You’ve Got a Friend in Me” from the Toy Story movie. He looked up and saw she had a small grin. He looked back at the piano and began to sing.

You've got a friend in me You've got a friend in me When the road looks rough ahead And you're miles and miles from your nice warm bed You just remember what your old pal said Boy, you've got a friend in me Yeah, you've got a friend in me

He didn’t dare look up at her. He just swayed as he played, having a little fun with a fun song.

You've got a friend in me You've got a friend in me You got troubles Then I got them too There isn't anything I wouldn't do for you We stick together, we can see it through Cause you've got a friend in me You've got a friend in me

As he continued to play and sing, he felt her come to rest on the bench next to him. He slid over some and she began to sing with him. He never looked over; afraid he would slip on the music.

Some other folks might be a little bit smarter than I am Bigger and stronger too Maybe But none of them Will ever love you The way I do It's me and you, boy

And as the years go by Our friendship will never die You're gonna see it's our destiny You've got a friend in me You've got a friend in me You've got a friend in me

As he finished, his hands stilled on the keys, and he continued to look down at them. A breathy voice next to him whispered “I’m sorry. You will always have a friend in me too. But. That’s all it can be.”

Without looking up he responded, “I know.” I just wish it didn’t hurt so damn much, he thought.

After what felt like an eternity of them sitting in silence at the piano she spoke “I called an Uber. It’s here. I’ll see you in the morning, yeah?”

He nodded as she stood, placing a hand on his shoulder, then she made for the exit. As she left, the melody of “Yesterday” by the Beatles rang out across the bar and he fought the urge to let tears roll down his face.

Chapter 3 ->

#top gun maverick #natasha phoenix trace #bradley rooster bradshaw #top gun #top gun fanfiction #natasha trace #bradley bradshaw #roonix #rooster x phoenix #phoenix x rooster #top gun movie #top gun fan fic #top gun fan fiction #top gun fanfic #top gun fandom #slow burn #emotional rollercoaster #sweetwhispersofchaos #complicated love story

3 notes · View notes

riderofblackdragons · 6 months ago

Text

Day 30: Flashbacks

Ok this one is a bit late, and for that I'm sorry. I accidentally wrecked my computer, so I had to wait and borrow a computer from another family member to put this out. Rest assured, it has been done since yesterday lol. But Day 31 might also take some time bc of this

Today's is a return to An Original Mother, wherein Elijah tries to decide how much she really hates her brother. Also, another 2 of her children are revealed! I do have favourites of Elijah's children in this tbh

Enjoy!

Elijah mostly tuned out Klaus’ rant, if she was perfectly honest. Ask her what it had been about later, and despite how interested she’d looked, she could not recall anything besides the fact that Marcel had a way to track when witches in the city were doing magic.

Just another reason not to bring Lukas here, she supposed. Her son enjoyed playing with his magic, even after he’d lost his usual playmate to his uncle.

It was one of many, Elijah knew. Lukas’ grudge against Klaus, for the death of said brother, was the main one, of course. Her brother required some very powerful magic to kill, even when he was at his weakest, and whilst she had no doubt that her son would be able to gather it, channelling all the other members of their family coven, and his mother as an Original vampire, Elijah wasn’t willing to risk Lukas’ life.

No matter how much she disliked her brother at the time.

“We all swore the same vow,” She reminded Klaus, tuning back into the conversation, and the words she was actually saying. Something about Rebekah hating their brother at the moment? Elijah couldn’t honestly blame her for it.

The words felt ironic in her mouth as she said them. That vow, as Kol had once said, haunted her, more than their father had ever done. She kept her vows, and she wasn’t about to stop, but she had been willing to break it, when she’d thought it was just them, and her remaining children, left in the world.

Elijah’s brother had murdered two of her sons, and she was still there for him, all for a vow that clearly meant nothing to him. But her word was everything to her, was how she made her way in life, through honouring her deals and her bargains.

If it wasn’t more likely to kill him than Klaus, she would be quietly encouraging Lukas on his journey of vengeance. In the meanwhile, setting him up in Zurich, sending him off to university there, was the best she could do.

“I hope she stays far away,” Klaus admitted, although he acted as though he didn’t care. He took a drink from his glass of whiskey, and Elijah wondered if he thought she should’ve stayed away as well.

After all, Elijah was only here because someone was angling for Klaus, and she needed to find out if they would be a threat to the rest of their family as well. Just a baby, that neither of its parents seemed to actually want. She may have promised her protection to Hayley, but Elijah wasn’t truly expecting there to be a foetus a few months from now.

“In my desire to reclaim this town as mine, to take it back from Marcel, I have realised one massive vulnerability,” Klaus continued, unaware of Elijah’s racing thoughts. “One weakness that, if Marcel realises as well, he could exploit,”

He stepped around the table, walking over to Elijah. She felt her insides freeze, her instincts screaming at her to run, but she carefully didn’t let it show. Something had changed, some slight difference in Klaus’ body movements, it had slipped from casual conversation to a hunter stalking its prey, and it set all the instincts in Elijah’s body screaming.

“And what is it?” She asked, the curiosity getting the better of her. If she’d had a drink also, she would have sipped it, but her brother hadn’t bothered to even offer her one.

“You,”

Before Elijah could fully register what he’d said, she felt Klaus slip a hidden dagger into her chest. A gasp escaped her, her mouth forming a curse that died upon her lips, as Elijah’s eyes flew wide in surprise. For all that she was cautious, she hadn’t expected him to dagger her again.

And for all her anger, she couldn’t deny the curl of satisfaction in her chest, hearing that she was his weakness. It was something, alright, to hear the confirmation that she was his favourite sibling, at least at the moment. It didn’t make up for how he’d daggered her, but it was something, at least.

Didn’t make her any less upset, or any more willing to forgive him for what he’d done to her and her children over the years, but it was something. Maybe, if he hadn’t involved her children, Elijah would have eventually forgiven him for everything, and continued staying by his side.

But this was the icing on the cake, and Elijah was not a fool. As soon as she was undaggered, she did not care by whom, she was leaving.

“Forgive me, my sister,” Klaus whispered, gently guiding her body to the ground. As if it would do anything, when she was glaring daggers at him with what little she had left in her. “But I know of your little meetings with Marcel, and I cannot have you revealing anything to him.

“Your love for him makes you weak, Elijah. If he had these daggers, he would do the same, to ensure you couldn’t help me. Love makes you weak. Family makes you weak. Your mercy, your forgiveness, is what makes you weak.

“If I am to reclaim New Orleans, I must do it without you.”

If she could have, Elijah would have laughed in Klaus’ face. Love made her weak? Family made her weak? He’d clearly forgotten all the work she’d done for him throughout the centuries, the ways she’d propped up his various empires, all in the name of family.

Maybe if she’d known that he would continue thinking like this, thinking that caring made them weak, she would’ve left him to rule alone, and not given her help even if he’d asked. But it was too late for regrets now, she supposed.

The darkness stole her away from him, thankfully, leaving Elijah floating in a sea of nothingness. Nothing but her thoughts, and her memories, accompanied her here, regrets and happiness wandering through in equal turns.

She hung there indefinitely, letting it all pass by. Time was always so difficult to tell, under the dagger. A century could feel like seconds, whilst a day felt like a millennium. At least when she was living, Elijah had the bonus of night and day to keep track by.

At one point, her thoughts turned to Marcel. Oh, her little Marcellus. Her adoring nephew had done so well for himself in her absence, taking over New Orleans. Turning it into a vampire sanctuary.

Elijah could still remember the day they’d gotten him – the way Klaus had strutted up to her, a waif of a boy following after him with stars in his eyes. She’d known, even then, that her brother would inevitably crush those stars out, one way or another. Elijah had hated it, but it hadn’t stopped her from knowing.

“This is Marcellus,” Klaus had introduced, proud as ever. “My new son,”

He’s stared her down then, as though daring Elijah to object to it. She hadn’t planned on it, at the time, although she did think that picking up a son at the funeral of a man that he’d killed was rather distasteful. Although, maybe raising a child of his own would be what was needed for Klaus to stop disregarding Elijah’s own? She’d hoped, anyways.

And she’d stuck around for Marcellus’ childhood, no matter her arguments with his new father. Elijah didn’t want to see Marcellus become a new Eirikur, after all, and Marcellus would actually understand what was going on. If there was one blessing from her first son’s death, Elijah knew, it was that the four-year-old hadn’t been alive long enough to truly realise that his uncle was going to kill him, and wasn’t just going to play.

Still, even though she remained on standby, just in case, Elijah had hoped that Klaus would do the majority of the raising of Marcellus. It was his son, after all, his choice to pick the boy up. And Elijah had still been grieving at the time – her daughter, Greta, had died 15 years beforehand, but for a vampire of their years, it was not that long before. A new child to look after was a most unwelcome gift, in her eyes.

Thankfully, it hadn’t been entirely up to her. She’d forced Klaus to be involved with Marcellus, despite his complaints of how the women of the household typically did the raising of children -honestly, Elijah would be surprised if she didn’t have to force him into the life of this biological child to be, as well.

But her son Magnus, Greta’s twin, had returned during Marcellus’ teen years, Elijah recalled fondly. Her poor boy, turned into a vampire far too young, he and Greta had clung to each other from the moment they were born, only forming completely distinct identities after Magnus had died.

And now, in the present, trapped in a prison world, all alone. If Elijah ever caught up to the ones who’d done it, well… Well. Neither of her twins would have wanted her to kill for them, she knew. Still, Elijah couldn’t help it if the culprits had died in a mysterious fire, leaving their families and loved ones behind.

She had faith that they’d catch up to her, one day. And when they did, Elijah knew that she’d use their blood to free her son, releasing him into the world once again.

Magnus had adored his little cousin when they’d met, Elijah remembered. He’d surely be happy to know how well Marcel was doing now, as king of New Orleans. It’d been one of the things she’d dreaded most, when she’d thought Marcel was dead. She loved the child, of course she did, and she’d been devastated by his loss in her own right, but the thought of her freeing her son, and knowing that his cousin had died without him knowing… It would break him.

Honestly, Magnus had been more excited by his new cousin than his mother was, Elijah had reckoned. He definitely enjoyed being around Marcellus more, but Elijah had always chalked that up to Magnus still being so young, and still operating on human schedules, as opposed to vampire ones.

As far as Elijah knew, Marcel still cared for Magnus as well, although he hadn’t mentioned him when they’d last spoke. Which was fair, she had to admit. After all, she never spoke of her son either – it was one thing to speak of her late children, that she had expected to lose, although maybe not as soon as she had, it was another to speak of her trapped child, who she still held out hope that she could get to someday.

But Marcel had definitely liked Magnus when he was younger, even if Elijah wasn’t sure on his thoughts on their family now. Magnus had been in the prison world since the late 1800’s, it wouldn’t be impossible for Marcel to think over the time he’d spent with Elijah’s son, and decide that he’d soured on the former siphon witch.

Outside her mind, Elijah suddenly felt something happen. A weight lifted off her chest… The dagger had been pulled out. And not by Klaus, she realised, as the weight fell back on but the darkness receded. The dagger was back in her body, but there was no ash on it. Nothing to keep her locked in her mind, trapped with her thoughts.

So her brother had given her away, she realised. Klaus wouldn’t have made such a novice mistake as this, but then the question remained, who did he trust enough to give his siblings to? And which of them would be dumb enough to pull the dagger from her chest?

A familiar (well, semi-familiar. A century of not talking made her not quite certain of it) voice came to her ears. Marcel. Of course, Elijah realised. They’d never fully explained what the white oak ash Klaus carried with him truly did. He’d probably assume that the dagger did all the work.

Which was partially true. The dagger slowed down the healing, made it take far longer than it otherwise would to wake up after being stabbed. But they would wake up, eventually. The white oak ash ensured that they could stay in there for centuries, unable to wake, hence why Klaus preferred it.

But the fact remained, Elijah was aware, that Klaus had given her over to Marcel after he’d daggered her. He’d given her to the person he said he was protecting her from, like he hadn’t expected her to discover that it was bullshit as soon as she’d woken up.

Sometimes Elijah despaired from her brother’s lack of forethought, honestly.

She heard someone talking to Marcel, outside of her coffin. A younger voice, female. A young girl? Elijah was about to be furious with her nephew – what was he doing with such a young girl? A minor? She barely sounded grown enough to wash her own laundry, let alone get into a relationship with him.

And then Elijah listened a little longer, and settled herself. Of course Marcel wasn’t getting strange with a teenager. From the sounds of it, he was protecting her from the coven of witches, although Elijah picked up the sounds of paternal concern in his voice.

A great-niece, then. She looked forward to meeting this girl, that Marcel had taken under his wing, and made his daughter. In her own time, however. Elijah hadn’t had a break for years, and her children weren’t in any danger at the moment – she was going to take some ‘me time’ before she threw herself back into it!

#tvd #to #the vampire diaries #the originals #elijah mikaelson #female elijah mikaelson #klaus mikaelson #marcel gerard #au - an original mother #whumpay #original characters

3 notes · View notes

panpuszczyk · 1 year ago

Text

(art at the bottom ;))

It was a warm evening, and the wind blew softly against Gino’s coat, pulling it lightly to one side. His soles were firm on the pavement as he stood in front of the town’s notice board, glaring. Pinned to the board was a poster promoting the new king and his commissioners. “Fear no longer, as the tyrant is gone and a new age has come to the Moon Nation!” it said.

“The new age of liars and traitors,” Gino muttered to himself, and his brows furrowed.

He reached into his bag and pulled out an ink bottle. The wind grew stronger and the leaves of trees planted around the town square swayed and rustled in the background. Gino’s fingers tightened around the bottle restlessly, as he questioned the merit of his next action one last time. With a loud crash, the ink bottle shattered against the notice board, the ink spilling all over the poster. Gino took a step back with a smile on his face, proud of his work, when suddenly from behind him he heard:

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?! Stop right now!”

At once he spun around to see a guard patrol passing through, and Kaven Roquennett – one of the king’s commissioners – among them.

“Shit.”

Immediately, he started running. At this time of day, there weren’t many crowds to hide among, nor shops open to duck into, so he sprung into a tight alley, pressing his back against the brick wall, hoping the shadows would be enough to cover him. And so it seemed, as five guards ran past the alley, their step loud and brisk on the tiled stone.

Gino scoffed at the guards’ inadequacy and grinned before he started walking leisurely down the alley. And then he felt a hand on his shoulder, gripping it firmly, and a cold blade at his throat.

“Hello, Gino,” the voice coming from behind was low and, despite the casual words, authoritative.

“Fuck you,” Gino snapped back, knowing exactly who stood behind him.

Kaven Roquennett chuckled briefly.

“The foul mouth really isn’t helping your case.”

“I did nothing.”

“You vandalised public property.”

“I was expressing my inner thoughts and beliefs. That’s not a crime, yes? Then I’m innocent.”

“You know well you can’t bullshit your way out of this one.”

Kaven loosened his grip and let Gino turn around to face him. Gino’s eyes narrowed.

“So, it appears you despise the new king and the whole order of commissioners. Is it really so bad that we protect the people and keep the peace? Would you rather the tyrant return to the throne?” said Kaven. Gino took a step back, outraged at his words.

“You dare look me in the eye and say that you protect the people and keep the peace? I know what you’ve done. I know who you are. Be really fucking careful, or my tongue might just slip, and more people might find out,” he said, and spit at the ground right in front of the commissioner.

Kaven’s expression, earlier relatively peaceful, became gravely serious.

“I would advise against it,” the tip of his dagger got dangerously close to Gino’s neck.

“Let me go,” Gino’s tone was threatening, accompanied by the revulsion painted on his face.

Kaven let go and lowered his dagger. Gino took a couple of steps backwards, keeping eye contact with him before he turned around and started making his way up the back wall of the alley. Kaven watched as Gino’s silhouette disappeared behind the corner of a roof. He stood there a while longer, thinking. Then he retreated into the warm evening light.

#character art #oc art #original character #sketch #oc sketch #writing #oc story #storytelling #original characer #original writing #doodle #lhnbf #lethisnamebeforgotten

10 notes · View notes

zerolostwalks · 1 year ago

Note

The Greater PolyPhantoms Polycule + they all work in the mall AU

Ooooh I think this one would be fun as an outsider POV.

-So we'll start with Nick (it was him or Caleb and NIck has more of an everyman persona) gets a job working at one of these Auntie Anne's Pretzel stands. It isn't quite part of the food court, it isn't quite part of the mall, just it's own thing standing in the entryway/barrier between the two.

-Kayla his coworker likes to fill him on the gossip around the mall. All her gossip seems to focus on music, complaining about various managers, etc.

-So because of Kayla's gossiping and because sometiimes it's slow, Nick takes up people watching. And he very quickly picks up on a few things he finds odd. . .partly because he would swear they'd be gossip fodder anywhere else but Kayla's said nothing.

-Over time he notices various member of the GPP hanging out, at first he thinks they are just one big friend group. But then the romantic touches and kisses and meet ups get hard to ignore.

-NIck is trying to wrap his head around it. He doesn't want to speculate, and he doesn't want to pry but he's also not sure to what level every knows. Or if there is drama boiling under the surface that's gonna blow up

-Eventually he does learn they're all one big polycule but not before going through the longest most awkward game of stay polite and don't be intrusive while trying to snoop around and satiate his own curiosity.

---The various places they work:

----Luke doesn't work at the mall, he's just always there bothering one of them or hanging out on various surfaces doing his own thing: ie writing music.

----Julie and Flynn work at a shoe store, they love it for the discount. Everything else they could do without.

----Carrie works at Sephora or Ulta or one of those makeup counter places. Nick is terrified the first time Carrie rests her customer service persona.

----Willie works at something like Hot Topic or Box Lunch (maybe even Spencer's)

----Reggie works at Build a Bear, the hardest store for NIck to casually randomly walk into. Which is frustrating because Reggie is one of the ones that confuses him the most.

-----Alex is a fellow food court worker, glares daggers at the chik-fil-a place. Kayla often goes to hang out with Alex or drags Alex to hang out with her and Nick. Alex both whares way too much and yet not enough to help Nick piece anything together,

#AUs are awesome #julie and the phantoms #the greater polyphantoms polycule #send me AUs for headcanons

18 notes · View notes

bellmare-rose · 1 month ago

Text

「𝐃𝐀𝐑𝐊𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍」

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴏɴᴇ

• • • • • • •

Gia

The forest had grown thicker as the three women made their journey, but through the gaps in the branches of the towering trees, the sky had turned the colour of a bruise, pink and lilac. It was beneath this sky that Gia ran her hand along the face of a tree that showed its age in its well-gnarled trunk. The spirits should be strong here in the forest, Gia knew, and those that remained were saying something, something, something...

But what...?

Gia turned just as Roslin halted mid-step and craned her head upward in the last, dying light of the evening. So she felt it, too, then.

"What is it, sister?" Blodwyn asked Roslin. Her hood was drawn and her face shadowed—how she kept it more oft than not as of late.

Roslin shrugged her shoulders and pulled the hood of her own cloak back before answering, "Something just doesn't feel right." The middle sister tucked her hair behind her ears. "Words fail to do it justice, I fear."

"I feel it, too. We should keep moving," Blodwyn said, voice firm as she linked her arm through Roslin's. The pair fell in step with one another, their eyes landing again on Gia, who was crouched by the base of the oak tree as she listened to her younger sisters speak. Her palm was pressed flat against the bark as she tried one last, hopeless time to get a feel for whatever it was that had been through this forest—something so dark that even the spirits dare not say its name, if it had one at all.

Gia felt tears prick her eyes and stood before turning fully to face her sisters, her fingers lingering against the tree just a moment longer. "Something dark has been here...or is here. So dark is it that even the spirits shy from its presence. They've left this place." She fell in line on the other side of Blodwyn and said nothing further.

The name, though known by all three sisters, went unspoken.

They walked the pine straw-strewn path in silence, but the air itself grew stifling as they pressed further forward, the sky transforming to an almost unnatural inky black.

Blodwyn snapped her fingers. A sphere of magelight formed and hovered in front of them, guiding their way through the gnarled roots of the forest floor in the blackness of night. The shadows darkened and lengthened around them, like the claws of a monster unfurling and reaching for them.

It was Roslin who halted again, her green eyes wide and scanning the shadows as though sensing something the others did not. Blodwyn reached for the dagger forever worn at her side and Gia closed her eyes to focus on the sounds around her.

Not now, begged Gia inwardly. Whatever happens, please don't let it be now, not while we're so depleted.

A sudden woosh cut through the air that had been still and otherwise silent a moment before.

As one, the sisters commanded Phós and Blodwyn's magelight strengthened and brightened, widening the circle of light around them and pushing back the edges of darkness.

The three stood their ground and closed ranks, backs to one another—their options were few, and retreat was not among them.

"Fuck," hissed Blodwyn, whose dagger was at the ready.

Fuck indeed. They were surrounded. From the shadows came the dead-eyed glares of the order the sisters had grown so well acquainted with.

Gia's heart stuttered in her chest, but she held steadfast and outwardly showed no fear. "This again," she said with a feigned disinterest. "The First Evil."

The First Evil had laid dormant for centuries. Why it was rearing its ugly head—its wicked, cruel, purple-eyed head—again after all this time, the sisters did not know. For months, they had been working toward banishing it, yet no matter how they tried and tried and tried again, their attempts were in vain. They had started this journey as practical witches and casual casters of magic—far from the great sorcerers of old who had last banished the First centuries before.

All the signs indicated they needed to make a journey North, as the spirits had said to Gia, which would lead to help and answers.

But perhaps Fate had other plans.

"Well, well, well...If it isn't the three bitches," a towering man with a scar running down his face sneered at the women, clearly thinking himself quite clever. Blodwyn's grip visibly tightened on her dagger and the man chuckled. "We've been having a fun little game of cat and mouse, haven't we?"

The others in his company laughed as the man walked closer, his hand outstretched. "The Master isn't happy with you three. You've been tryin' to bind him...Trying to stop him." Up close, the man's eyes were all black and he reeked of death. A vessel or a shell of something once living, once a man, but no longer either of those things.

Blodwyn held her head high and returned the man's sneer. "If we don't stop him, someone else will. But I like our chances." She moved quickly. The blade in her hand was a flash of black shadow as it sliced across the man's throat.

Blodwyn whirled away, graceful as if she were dancing, as another man slashed at her. "Bitch!" snarled this one. "You're going to–"

He never finished his sentence. He dropped to his knees, sword falling from his hand as he burned from the inside out, his blood turned to fire in his veins. Gia's hand glowed hellish red as her forearms seared orange with fire magic. She reeled and raised her hands to another member of the First approaching her from behind. They stood in a stalemate: a blade in his hands, fire in hers.

"Leave now," she bade. "Run back to your Master with your tail between your legs. Tell him to stop this."

"Stop this?" spat the man in the guttural accent of the distant Et-hi. "He's just getting started." He lunged, then, and struck out for Gia with his curved blade. She danced aside and set his skin aflame with a flourish of her hands.

Another assailant barreled forth from the sidelines, previously unseen in the shadows: an unnaturally horned woman who also smelled of death and something inhuman. She raced forward to Gia, dagger held high, only to abruptly fall flat. "Shit!" she cursed as he scrambled on her hands and knees. Her ankles were tangled in a thick root jutting from the ground.

Roslin stood on the other side of the root, eyes dark and face shadowed beneath her hood.

The root moved.

The horned woman gasped.

It was pulling on her leg, pulling on her, dragging her with a sickening crunch beneath the forest floor. "No–," she rasped, eyes rolling wildly with pain. Her hands clawed at the damp earth, garnering only fistfuls of rotting leaves and nothing solid to grab onto. "Get back here and fight!" she screamed. In spite of the edge to her voice, her face was wrought with fear beneath a tangle of matted black hair. "Coward! Whore! Crones, the lot of you!" With an agonising twist and snap of shattering bones,her body contorted beneath the surface of the earth.

The ground swallowed her whole.

Silence.

That was the end of her and of all of them.

Roslin didn't look at the spot as she passed. "They're getting more brazen," she said to Gia and Blodwyn. With the tip of her boot, she kicked away the runed knife one of them had been wielding. "They're aware of what we're doing. And I think they're aware we're getting stronger, too." Rolsin's face was ashen, the dark circles of sleepless nights and near-endless horrors giving her a hollow, haunted look.

Blodwyn was cleaning the blood from one of her obsidian-edged daggers. "Then we need to keep doing it." She passed her fingers over the blade and the blood vanished as if never there at all.

Gia nodded. "The First Evil was dormant for centuries. That means there's a way to banish it, if we could just...just figure out what that is. The stories fail to mention that part." The three sisters stood there in the ghoulish white glare of Blodwyn's magelight. Gia was frustrated. They were all frustrated. They'd been destroying the Evil bit by bit for months on end but had no proof of a long-term solution.

Worse, they didn't know why it had awoken in the first place.

Or why it had targeted them.

Still, Gia squared her shoulders and held up her chin. "If anyone can do it," she started, looking between Blodwyn and Roslin, "it's us. The three of us." There were times that she was beginning to believe that their optimism was folly, more of a detriment than anything else. There was no running from it now, though, so they could at least feign confidence in themselves if all else failed.

Blodwyn hummed in agreement, spinning her dagger carelessly in one hand. "They keep setting themselves up and we'll keep knocking them down," she said, then the corner of her mouth quirked up as she glanced between the other two witches. "Gods be good; you two were on fire." She pointed the tip of her blade toward two of the smouldering bodies on the ground. "And they were literally on fire. Impressive spellwork, Gia."

Gia bowed her head and curtsied theatrically. "Desperate times, desperate measures."

Roslin was looking down at one of the men whose throats Blodwyn had opened. She nudged at his corpse with one foot just as she had with the blade. "They'll always be there, won't they?" She turned his face away with the tip of her boot. "They'll follow us wherever we go. We're always going to have to be on edge."

Gia took one of Roslin's hands in her own. "Maybe so," she said, "but we're safe as long as we're together. I won't let anything hurt either of you."

"She's right," agreed Blodwyn. "Between the three of us, we can..." Her voice trailed off mid-sentence. The three witches all stilled at once, sensing something in the forest. Something dark, something familiar, something that dripped with that same dread and decay.

Blodwyn ripped a knife from beneath her cloak. "Get–"

The First descended on them like hounds, tearing from the darkness with an unexpected speed. There had been little warning, little premonition, no whispers from the spirits. Steel sang on steel as Blodwyn parried a blow from one sword, then another. Fire blazed where Gia incinerated one man. No sooner did the first fall than a second rushed in to take his place, lance in hand. Roslin drove a spike of ice through his chest, only for hands to grab her cloak from behind. She reeled and made to elbow the unseen assailant in his face only to take a blow to the jaw herself. The ground rose up to meet her, and with a cry of startled anger, she tore a blade from her bodice and swiped at his legs.

Blood sprayed. Fire roared. There were so many attackers that the witches couldn't keep count.

They fell, they got up again. Their magelight faltered, flickering in the darkness, as they forced all of their energy and all of their magic into fighting back the First. It was impressive, truthfully, how many members of the order the three women felled for casters with so little practise in anything remotely close to battle.

It was an all-out attack. This was planned,Gia realised. The first attack, then the second. They meant to lower our guards and let us expend our magic. Back to back to back the witches stood, driven backwards into their circle. Gia's own skin burned from the exertion of such intense magic, blood ran red through a tear in Blodwyn's tunic, and Roslin's hands shook so badly she couldn't hold a blade.

A man with a tangle of dark curls and a hooked nose stepped forward. "Looks like you're out of options," he said. "Outmatched, outnumbered." Undergrowth crunched beneath his feet as he held the tip of his sword up to Blodwyn. "You're particularly feisty," he said, "I think I'll take you for myself when the Master's done with you...If there's anything left to be had."

"Don't you touch her," hissed Roslin. Her voice was as hoarse and as unsteady as her hands. "Stay back, I'm warning you."

"Or what?" The man laughed. He looked over his shoulder and said, "Hear that? She's warning me. What are you going to do? Bleed on me? You're out of magic, which means you're out of options." There were at least fifteen members of the First surrounding them, still, even with how many the witches had cut through.

Gia lunged forward, hands blazing bright. She swung at him, her magic (or what was left of it) cutting through the air like a blade. He staggered back and brandished his own blade at her.

Into the fray the three witches went again.

The words rang in Gia's head.

Out of options. With a wave of Roslin's hand, vines wrapped around one of the assailant's throats and dragged him upwards, effectively hanging him.

Outmatched. Blodwyn sent a shadowblade sailing with deathly, deathly precision.

Outnumbered. Gia drove her dagger into one of the fighter's sternums and twisted.

In the din of battle, they hadn't heard the rhythmic, telltale thunder of hooves approaching until they were upon them. Gia opened her mouth to yell but was cut short.

A spray of blood and one of the lackey's heads was rended from his shoulders. Gia let out a startled cry and lurched backward away from the chestnut mare. She raised her hands, flaring with the fading, angry red glow of magic.

A masked rider looked over his shoulder at her as he rode past, a morning star in one hand and a spiked shield strapped to the other. The First was caught entirely off guard by the arrival of the riders.

However brief, all three witches had felt the sickening aura of the First Evil, the black dread warning of the order's approach. But looking at the rider, Gia felt...

There was no time to think, nor to feel. Two more riders followed, both on black coursers. One carried a sword, the other a bow. All three were masked. There was no time, Gia knew, to ask questions. Fire roared and Gia struck forward, dealing one last fatal blow before Gia dropped to one knee. Blodwyn followed suit with a spark of poisonous green magic flashing in her hand.

Then it was over.

At last the world stilled again, and the three witches were left with the three riders there in the dark of the forest.

Again, though, the women were circled in.

Blodwyn skipped the pleasantries. "Who are you?" she demanded. Her hold on her dagger never slackened in spite of her exhaustion.

"I think the words you're looking for are thank you," replied the rider with the spiked shield.

Blodwyn scoffed. "You don't want me to say the word I'm looking for."

The witches collectively studied the riders, eyes searching wildly for any indication of who they might be and coming up short. They were dressed in fitted black cloaks and wore silvered full-face masks that gave no indication of the men beneath. In the darkness, Roslin quietly found Gia's hand and took it, squeezing. All three of their hearts beat with the same frantic uncertainty.

"We know who you are," the rider with the shield almost taunted. "How could we not?" His masked face turned and studied each of the witches. "Blodwyn Terran...Roslin Adair..." he paused, taking extra time to examine the final witch. "...And Gia Amethyst."

Gia shrank back upon feeling his unseen eyes on her. She looked anywhere but at him.

Blodywn didn't lower her blade. "That's nice," she said, "but you didn't answer my question."

He sighed. "You live up to the rumours, don't you?"

Blodwyn's eyes narrowed and her knuckles went white around the hilt of her dagger.

"Fuck's sake," drawled the rider with the bow. "This is getting us nowhere." He set his bow in his lap, reached up, and took off his mask. He blinked and tossed shaggy brown hair from his eyes. "My name is Daeron Dusk. Happy?" He turned in his saddle and nodded at the other rider; the one who had been silent up until this point.

The quiet rider sheathed his sword and then drew back his hood. The hair beneath was so brown it was nearly black, and when he took off his mask, his skin beneath was as fair as his eyes were blue. "My name is Jon Wren."

The way Roslin's grip on Gia's hand tightened almost imperceptibly did not go unnoticed by Gia.

The shield-bearing rider laughed. "That leaves me, doesn't it?" He, too, drew back his hood, revealing a wild swath of brown curls. "Edric," he sighed as he pushed his mask up over his forehead. He was the youngest of the riders, with big brown eyes and full lips.

It was Gia's turn to squeeze Roslin's hand.

If Blodwyn was affected by the men's collective charm at all, she did not show it. "Great," she said flatly. "Why are you here?"

The one named Jon answered. "We've been sent to find you." He fastened his mask to a clip at his hip. "We're to take you back to Darkhaven Castle at once to answer summons."

Gia's brow furrowed. "Darkhaven Castle? Where is that?" The sisters had never been so far North and West in the Realm before. Little and less was known to them about the kingdoms housed in this expanse of the Realm.

There was silence. At last, Daeron huffed and answered gruffly, "Can't say."

Blodwyn raised her dagger again. "Who sent you?"

Daeron's eyes narrowed. "Can't say."

Edric smirked. "Are we going to stand in the forest all night? I, for one, veto that idea."

"Can't say," Blodwyn told him.

"Tell us how to get there," said Gia, folding her arms across her chest. "We can't go if we don't know where it is that we're going."

"Unless you want us to run along behind your horses like squires," japed Blodwyn. When she saw Daeron's eyebrow cock, she added, "Which we're not doing."

"As much as that idea tickles me, you'll be riding with us, ladies," Edric smiled down at them.

"We most certainly will not," Blodwyn said.

"You most certainly will," replied Edric.

The three women stood there in silence. Gia was burned, and Blodwyn was bleeding, and Roslin swayed where she stood. They had neither camp nor food, not to mention money nor map, and were surrounded by corpses. They'd spent days straight on the hunt for answers. The exhaustion hung around them palpably.

Gia searched Edric's face. Something inside of her answered something inside of him. "How do we know this isn't a trap? We just walked into one trap; we don't need to walk into another," she told him.

Edric cocked his head and smiled down at her. "You'll just have to trust me, won't you?" He extended one gloved hand down to her expectantly, waiting.

She glanced between her sisters. "We don't have many options."

Roslin nodded. "I agree."

Blodwyn, too, sighed with bitter resignation. She said nothing, just sheathed her blade, which was answer enough from the youngest sister.

Gia took Edric's hand, and when she did, a fire kindled itself in her all over again. Does he feel it too? She wondered. Gia tried not to meet his gaze as he pulled her up onto the horse. She also tried not to feel the fine muscle beneath his cloak when she held onto him.

Daeron said nothing, jutting a hand downward to Blodwyn in resigned silence. She smacked it away. "I know how to mount a horse," she told him curtly. The archer just rolled his eyes as the witch's foot crammed into the stirrup alongside his own. She yanked on his cloak—hard, purposefully hard—as she pulled herself up, smirking as he rocked in his saddle from the motion.

Jon reined his courser up beside Roslin. "Lady Adair," he addressed her, offering a gloved hand.

"I'm no lady," she said, taking it. Too exhausted to argue, she allowed him to pull her up.

"Miss Adair," he corrected himself.

"Better." She settled in behind him, and though Jon couldn't see it, Gia could, indeed, see the flush on Roslin's face. The middle sister always had a weakness for handsome men.

I suppose I'm no better, thought Gia, who loosened her too-familiar grip on Edric's shoulder. What's gotten into me?

Edric dropped his mask back down over his face, concealing his characteristic smirk, and put his heels into his chestnut mare. Three riders and three witches disappeared into the darkness.

The three riders kept the horses trotting at a steady pace for most of the evening.

The trail through the valley was wide enough for the horses to be ridden abreast, keeping the sisters close together. The quiet, at least, allowed Gia time to reflect on the events that had transpired.

This time it had been a little too close to ending badly. She glanced across at her sisters. To Gia's right, Blodwyn's brow was furrowed as she held Daeron's cloak reluctantly; she sat upright and rigid, permitting herself no comfort. Conversely, on Gia's left, Roslin had one hand on Jon's shoulder but seemed to be nodding and then blinking herself awake again.

Jon's voice broke Roslin from her half-asleep-half-awake state. "Are you okay back there, Miss Adair?"

Roslin rubbed at one eye with the heel of her hand. "Yes...I'm just a little tired. We all are, I suppose."

The sisters had been travelling for weeks, seeking out information and leads, ways to defeat the First Evil. Now that Gia thought about it, it was a tip from a man in the hovel that was White River, their most recent stop, that had led them to the forest. A trap? she wondered.

Jon's voice broke their thoughts once more. "I'm not surprised. Though, I must say, I am glad that the stories about your powers had no base in falsehood. Though, I am thankful we arrived when we did." His voice was warm and steady when he spoke, gentle. The same as Roslin's.

"How was it you came upon us? Have you been following us? Or is that a secret, too?" Rosin asked. She shifted in the saddle.

"We haven't been following you, but we were told that you'd been in White River seeking answers...and so were we. We were sent to find you and decided to cut through the forest as a shortcut. It was only by sheer luck we found you."

Luck, thought Gia, or Fate?

Roslin turned to look at Gia and their eyes met. Both instinctively smiled at the other in spite of the weariness felt at their very core.

To Gia's right, Daeron gave his horse another kick and wobbled slightly. Blodwyn was forced to tighten her grip on his cloak. "You know it might be easier if you place your hands on my shoulders or somethin'. You're pulling me all over the place," came Daeron's drawl that was little more than a growl.

"You should be grateful I'm even riding with you, stranger." Blodwyn grinned slightly at the sound of the man's sigh that followed.

"You should be grateful we arrived when we did."

His words made Blodwyn's grin falter, and her brow returned to its usual furrow. "I suppose you're right, but my sisters and I had it in hand. We survived plenty fine before you three came along. Don't underestimate us, Daeron. Most people regret it when they do."

Roslin visibly cringed at the threat.

At this, Daeron laughed a forced laugh, and the corner of his mouth turned up in the smallest of smiles. "So you do remember my name."

When she spoke, her voice was calm. "Just focus on riding and not getting us killed."

A much-welcomed silence followed. The world around them was dark and sang the song of crickets and frogs and whip-poor-wills unseen but heard all the same. Lanterns whose flames never guttered hung at the sides of the riders' horses. Otherwise, all was dark.

I'll rest my eyes for a moment, Gia lied to herself. Only a moment.

?????

Three crowns once forged, three crowns to wear,

Heavy is the weight to bear.

A crown of shadow, antlered, gleaming,

Crowned by power, cunning, scheming.

A crown of ruby, rightly named,

Twin of two and forged in flame.

A crown of gold, a crown of horns,

Gilded roses, gilded thorns.

Three crowns once forged, three crowns to wear,

Three fates sealed, three shrouds to share.

"Such the oracle has spoken?"

"Such the oracle has spoken."

"So be it, then."

"Do you not worry, your grace?"

"All I heard was three shrouds to share. When I am through, there will be nothing left to shroud."

Gia

The sun was rising.

Gia's head snapped up and she cast a glance between her sisters. They were fine—they were there, both of them. Still there. Still safe. She silently thanked the gods and spirits alike that they'd all survived the night.

But how did I manage to sleep so long ahorse? Such a thing was unheard of for Gia, and even moreso for Blodwyn, who, judging by the (very disgruntled) look of things, had also slept.

Every part of Gia's body ached, and her hair felt like a tangled mess as she brushed it away from her face.

"You're awake?"

"I wasn't asleep," said Gia at once. Her mouth felt dry, as if filled with cotton, and a flush crept up her cheeks. "I was just...thinking." Her words felt awkward in her mouth, and she was thankful that she couldn't see his eyes, knowing they would stir emotions she had long suppressed—feelings she had denied herself for years.

Something she had refused, spurned, not allowed herself to feel.

"Well, you can think or sleep as much as you like. I promise to keep you safe, Gia." His voice was kind, and the sound sent a rush of heat to her cheeks.

She lowered her hand from fussing with her hair, resigned that it was indeed a tangled mess, and rested it around his waist once more. "Doesn't your mask make you warm? I don't know how you manage to ride so well while wearing it." Gia winced inwardly, feeling her words were clumsy and naive. "Also, how did you know who we were, anyway?"

Edric pushed the mask up from his face and she could hear something akin to disbelief in his voice when he spoke. "Everyone knows who you are. The Three Sisters are known in every corner of the land; I'm surprised you aren't aware of that."

Gia shrugged, frowning slightly. "My sisters and I keep to ourselves. Ours is a quiet life... Humankind has been kind to neither us nor our ancestors, so we live cautiously."

Ancestors, she thought, my mother was no ancestor.

"Well, humanity may change its opinion. If the signs are true, many people will be grateful to have you on their side."

Perhaps he had the right of it. Perhaps this place—Darkhaven—would be kinder to practisers of magic than their home kingdom of Prinella, but Gia was not one to so easily put faith in...well, anything. Not these riders, kind though they may be, and certainly not a kingdom whose name she'd never so much as seen on a map.

Gia opened her mouth to ask another question when she noticed that Edric and the others were slowing down. The woods around them had begun to thin out–a detail she'd neglected to notice with such attention focused on Edric.

The party approached a gray stone archway with black wooden gates and thick green vines twisting around the stone pillars. Roslin visibly lifted her gaze, peering over Jon's shoulder almost excitedly.

Jon turned slightly and offered Roslin a gentle smile as he addressed the party. "The outer gate. We're here, my ladies. Once we pass through the gate and cross the bridge, we'll be at Darkhaven Castle. You can rest here."

Blodwyn, too, was eyeing the gates when she told him, "Tired though I may be, I'd rather have answers. I have many questions—we all do."

"I agree," said Roslin. "I couldn't possibly sleep now."

Jon moved to the forefront of the party and raised his hand, and the gates slowly creaked open. "I promise you'll get your answers, Miss Adair."

She smiled. "Call me Roslin."

"Of course, Miss Roslin."

An unseen hand opened the gates. The six passed beneath the shadow of the gatehouses. Gia peered up at the arrowslits above. The many, many arrowslits.

It was as they passed beneath that bridge in the wall that Gia felt something shimmer over her like an unseen hand or a wind that wasn't there at all. It felt like...it felt like it stirred something in her that had been long since dormant—like she'd been drowning for years and never known it, and now she'd taken in that first, sudden, shuddering breath of air.

Something, but what? No name, no words could capture that feeling—that uninvited, unexpected feeling.

A voice that belonged to none of the party and spoke instead within Gia's own head greeted her. "Welcome to Darkhaven."

#challenge: can anyone guess who the three commanders are based off of?#writing #authors #writeblr #darkhaven #bellmare #rose #fantasy #fantasy writing #original story

1 note · View note