#by then i think it was impossible to pry me away from leon

[goldentigerfestival]

Thinking about my Tales of Crestoria career and I still love how it really just amounts to Leon Magnus and Friends.

Like yes other characters existed but did they really.

(dark team feat sin vicious bc he served leon well by making leon's attacks at the end of the attack chain even stronger)

(i was never seen in arena without leon)

(gameplay made possible by leon magnus)

shoutout to mao for being super OP tho, that's him, that's my little rebirth boy

[death-paint]

Right Here

Leon Kennedy x GN! Reader

A/N: I know that realistically this man probably wouldn’t have the energy or even the mental capacity to comfort anyone, but it’s nice to imagine. I felt bad the other night and kinda got inspired by my own breakdown, so this is mainly for myself. Any Leon applies, but personally I was thinking of an older one.

Title from "Right Here" by Chase Atlantic

TW: mental breakdown (I think???), crying, abandonment issues

Word count: 1078

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You curled up on the mattress, desperately clinging to the body pillow you kept for when Leon wasn’t around. You didn’t know what set you off, you’d had a good day. So why were you crying? You hung out with friends, had a good time laughing and playing games, ate good food, everything was perfect. So why did you feel so off?

You sobbed out apologies into the dark room, tears falling on to the body pillow you clung to. Something in the back of your mind was telling you it was all an elaborate joke. That people kept you around either out of pity or because they wanted to use you in some way. But the main thing on your mind was Leon. He’d been gone on a mission for a couple weeks now, and you hadn’t gotten a message in days. You knew it was most likely because he was busy and couldn’t send any, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that he suddenly hated you. That suddenly you were unattractive and everything about you was repulsive. You continued to cry, muffling your pained screams and squeaks with the pillow, despite knowing you were alone in the house. Or so you thought.

You had been so caught up in your own emotions that you hadn’t heard the creak of the front door closing or the heavy, tired footsteps trudging up the stairs. You wept and wept, curled up in the fetal position, unaware that the person you were crying for had stopped just outside the door, confused as to why you were crying in the first place.

Leon stepped into the house to find it dark. Confused, he searched the kitchen for you, only to be met with more darkness, food and dishes already put away and washed. He searched the rest of the ground floor, still bewildered. You usually weren’t asleep this early. He turned on his heel, figuring you’d be upstairs, and dragged his tired frame up the steps slowly. As he reached the top of the stairs, he heard soft, muffled whimpers and sniffles from the bedroom. He stopped outside of the door, unsure of whether he should step in to comfort you or to wait it out. Ultimately, he felt bad, and decided to step in to try and help, his heart breaking for you.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to, come back, please!” You wailed, clawing at the pillow as if it were him, trying to hold it impossibly closer to your shaking body. You heard the door open, and all crying ceased immediately. You let your head drop, pretending to be asleep.

“Baby…” Leon spoke, walking over to the bed and sitting down on the edge. “Hey…I heard you crying. What’s wrong?”

You shook your head in response to his question, embarrassed that you’d been caught. It hadn’t been the first time, of course, but you still weren’t quite comfortable with him knowing about it.

“What were you apologizing for?” He asked, leaning closer to you and rubbing your arm in an attempt to soothe you.

“I…I don’t know,” you croaked out, voice hoarse. “I just…I don’t know.”

“It’s ok baby. I’m here,” he kicked off his shoes and laid down next to you, pulling you into his arms.

You hesitated for a moment before speaking again, trying to figure out what to say.

“Are you mad at me?” you sniffled, tears still in the corners of your eyes as you let go of the pillow and turned around to face him. Leon’s eyes widened as the question left your lips, his brows furrowed in confusion.

“Of course not, baby. What makes you think that?” His voice was soft as he continued to pry, wanting to know as much as possible so that he could do his best to comfort you.

“I don’t know…I didn’t hear from you, and I just…” you looked down at his chest, avoiding eye contact as you answered. “I’m just being dramatic, I’m sorry.”

“Shhh…” he brought his hand up to cup your cheek, lifting your head gently to make you look at him. “It’s okay. You don’t need to apologize, hon.”

You tried to hold it together, but his words (although comforting) made a cold, sharp pain shoot through your chest, and sure enough, you were crying again. You clung to him for dear life, as if he’d disappear if you let go. You could no longer speak as the wet, hot tears poured down your face, only able to express your pain through whines and small squeaks. Your face seemed to convey one of a person screaming, but you were relatively quiet against him. Your eyes flickered to his for a moment, your expression desperate and pleading, begging him to take away the pain in your chest.

Leon had seen you break down before, and the fact that you still tried to hide it from him was heartbreaking as he pet your hair comfortingly, whispering to you as you whimpered and squeaked in his arms.

“Shhh…it’s alright. You’ll be alright, baby.” he cooed. “I promise. You’re gonna be okay, hon.” He dipped his head down until his lips met your forehead, giving it a light peck as you hiccupped out more tears.

He had started to gently rock the two of you back and forth, still caressing you. The noises had mostly stopped by now, but the tears still flowed, and you were still hyperventilating. His calloused but gentle hands held you close as he kissed the tears away, still whispering whatever words you needed to hear from him, and eventually you calmed down. Finally, you spoke up again.

“You’re not gonna leave me, are you?” Your eyes reflected the minimal light of the room like glass, staring into his brilliant blue ones. “I’m sorry, I’m trying to get better, I promise. I know I’m a lot, I don’t mean to be–”

“Shhh, doll.” He put a finger to your mouth, cutting you off. “It’s okay, I’m not going anywhere. I promise.” He pressed a tender kiss to your lips, caressing your cheek with his thumb and wiping away your tears from a few moments earlier.

“I missed you,” you breathed out as he pulled away.

“I know, baby,” he smiled softly, a light puff of air leaving his nose. “I missed you too. Now, let’s get some sleep, yeah?”

“Yeah…” you yawned, nestling yourself into Leon’s chest once more. “Goodnight, Leon.”

“Goodnight, baby. I love you.”

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Aaahhh can I pls request a family imagine where Cheka draws on his arm with markers so that he and Leon have matching lion tattoos?? (=^w^=)

Tagging @jessamine-rose, as this was originally their request, made off-anon.

Tumblr mobile was being dumb and didn't save the completed version of this before posting. This just happens sometimes when I have stuff in my queue 😭 I had to take the initial post down, rewrite the other half of the imagine that didn't save, and then repost it (which is what you're looking at now).

Imagine this...

“... tan! Ojitan!”

Leona groaned, tumbling onto his back and pressing a pillow over his ears. No dice--his nephew’s persistent voice still cut through. A familiar, high-pitched and cheery whine that made Leona’s head throb unbearably.

“What is it?” he snapped, glaring at Cheka from beneath his pillow arch. “Can’t you see I’m trying to sleep here?”

“You’re still sleeping? It’s so early in the day, there’s so much time left to do stuff.”

"That's precious napping time for me."

"You're so weird, Ojitan."

Leona let out a sardonic rumble of laughter. "You have no idea."

The cub grinned, putting a hand on his uncle’s shoulder and gently shaking him. “C’mon rise and shine! I have something cool to show you!”

Ugh.

Leona rolled his eyes, but relented with a sigh. (From past experience, he knew that if he didn’t, he would soon find Cheka sitting on his on his stomach.) “Make it quick, then.”

“Hehe, okay! Guess what I have?”

Leona’s gaze was immediately drawn to Cheka’s right hand, which had remained behind his back the entire time. Clutching onto a drawing pad, no doubt, judging from the markers and torn papers scattered all over the floor of the room. The efforts of childhood whimsy and wonder.

Instead of smiling, Leona frowned. “I thought I told you to make it quick. And I despise guessing games.”

“That’s no fun, though!” Cheka leaned forward on his tip-toes. “Guess, guess! Only one time is good.”

“... A monkey’s uncle.”

The cub’s free hand flew to his mouth, attempting to shove his giggles back in, but to no avail. “That’s silly!! You’re not a monkey’s uncle, you’re my uncle--and I’m not a monkey, I’m a lion!”

“I wouldn’t have known that if you hadn’t told me just now,” he replied sarcastically. “Thanks so much for enlightening me.”

“You’re welcome! Hehe, I’m surprised I know more than you do.” Cheka flashed a grin, ever the oblivious child. “Okay, thanks for waiting! It’s time for my big reveal!”

“Oh, goodie.”

Cheka revealed his right hand, which was balled into a tiny fist. His fingers unfurled, revealing... nothing in his palm. Leona stared down at the emptiness, his expression blank, touched with a little dubiousness.

“... Are you surprised?” Cheka looked hopeful.

Leona threw his head back and laughed. “Is this some sort of a joke, furball? If it is, it’s not a very good one.”

“That’s only half of the surprise! The other half is... this!”

Cheka reached for his left sleeve and yanked the fabric up, revealing a flash of ink upon his caramel-colored skin. Black as burnt sugar, pointed teeth and a mess of a mane sprawling out... not unlike the dark swirls that danced upon Leona’s own left bicep.

“Ta-daaah!!”

His eyes bulged. “That’s...”

... A really crappy imitation of my tattoo.

“Cheka. When the hell did you find the time to do this?” Leona demanded, thrusting a finger at the marker-made mess on the boy’s arm.

“You were napping up until a little while ago, so I sat around and looked at your arm to copy it on mine!”

“You were watching me sleep?!”

“I needed a model! I can’t remember what the tattoo looks like from memory....” Cheka’s ears flattened, worry marring his innocent face. “Um, Ojitan... Could it be that you’re angry with me?”

“... I don't care. Better you than Rook,” Leona grumbled, sinking back into his bed. “You’d better wash that off before you head home. The servants will be beside themselves seeing their impressionable little prince like this.”

Leona grimaced at the thought over their beady eyes bearing into him again. As though he was not already regarded with enough scorn. To them, he was less like a man and more like a wild beast. Simultaneously feared and hated.

“Nuh-uh! I’m never gonna wash it off, cuz I wanna keep matching with you!” Cheka declared stubbornly. He flexed his left arm, causing his shoddily done lion’s mane to flicker. “I’m gonna be just like you one day! I’ll be smart, and strong, and cool... Oh! And I’ll even be a Magical Shift star, too!!”

“Don’t make me laugh. There are tons of role models for you out there. Better people to look up to and idolize, like your old man. After all, you are his flesh and blood... and the prized prince of the savanna.”

“What if I want to be like Papa and Ojitan?”

“You’re chasing an impossible dream.” The words came out more strongly than he had intended them to, each syllable dropping like a cement brick. “If you were smart, you’d know when to quit.”

You’d accept second place and be done with it already.

“... You don’t want to follow in my footsteps.” Leona waved a hand, his tone bitter. The once vibrant viridian of his irises had dullened, twisting into something darker.

“Your future’s brighter than mine. It’s so bright, it hurts my eyes to look at it,” he spat, his spirit shining with spite. “That’s what’s waiting for you, so you’d better take it before someone else comes along to try and steal it from you... someone like me.”

Cheka went quiet, staring at his uncle with a startled expression. The look of an antelope ensnared in a predator’s trap. Hurt and fear, all culminated into one. “Ojitan...”

He’s the same as them. I should have known.

“Do you get it now? I’m not someone worth some wide-eyed kid’s admiration,” he snarled, turning away from Cheka--afraid to meet that sparkling gaze, full of endless possibilities. “If you understand that much, then leave, and--OOF!!”

A small body tackled into his from behind, cutting Leona off. His assailant planted their face against his broad back, and their scrawny arms wrapped around his waist to give a squeeze.

“Leona Ojitan... I didn’t understand everything you said just then, but... I think I kind of understand. You’re... hurting right now, aren’t you? It hurts so much that you don’t know what to do.”

“Me... hurting?” Leona scoffed, even has he balled his hands into fists. His fingernails dug into his palms, leaving marks. “Ridiculous. You’re imagining things.”

“I don’t think it’s imaginary.”

“... What do you know? You’re just a kid.”

“I know lots of things!” Cheka tightened his grip on his uncle, his muscles straining under his skin, the lion of his makeshift tattoo stretching thin. “Like when you hurt like this, a hug’ll make it all feel better! Papa and Mama told me! So... Until it stops hurting, I’ll keep hugging you like this!”

“You’ll what?!” Leona paled, starting to buck and flail against his nephew. He attempted to pry him off, only to have the cub immediately cinch back onto him moments later. “O-Oi, Cheka...!! Let go, I don’t want--no, I don’t need any hugs, damn it!!”

“Hehe! Nope, I can’t do that! Our arm marks match, Ojitan! So I want our smiles to match, too!” The cub squealed, rubbing his cheek against his exasperated uncle’s. “You can’t run away from me!”

“This is why I told you to wash off that stupid marker...!!”

[megan-is-mia]

Heyyy, can i get manipulative 11 and 20 for dear ol' Leone with sexy on the sude, please? Love ur work, fam, ur one of the best of this fandom~

(Yes you can! And shucks, i appreicate the comment but i ain't quite as good as you think i am yet :D)

11. "You’re so vulnerable right now.” 20. “Don’t say you’re lonely, you have me!”

(Yandere! Werecat! Leone Abbachio x Fem! Witch! S/o) (NSFW AND NON-CON AHEAD) “I’m home Abbacchio!” (Y/n) hollered as she entered the cottage. As she set her bag down on the table, her white cat familiar finally made his appearance curling himself around the young witch’s ankles in greeting. “Took you long enough, you said you’d be home before sundown” Abbacchio commented jumping up on the table and pressing his face against (Y/n)’s hand for petting. Whenever the young witch took longer than normal to get home he’d begin to worry. “Sorry kitty, I just lost track of time talking to the blacksmith’s son (F/n)... I think he wants to marry me” (Y/n) apologized scratching the feline’s ears as she spoke. The cat’s eyes went wide in alarm at her words and his head jerked up. “What! Why! What makes you think he wants to marry you?!” Abbacchio said abruptly pawing at (Y/n)’s arm, his golden-purple eyes staring intently at him. The young witch giggled and moved her head to scratch under the cat’s chin. “Oh you know, asking me my favor kind of gem. Asking me to judge precious metals, measuring my ring finger. That kinda stuff...” (Y/n) said cheerfully continuing to pet the feline with a good-natured attitude. “You cant get married to (F/n)! No way!” Abbacchio protested jerking his head away from (Y/n)’s affectionate touch. “He’s barely above the village idiot in intelligence!” the feline added sharply. “Oh come on Abbacchio, (F/n) isn’t that dumb. Just cause he isn’t a scholar doesn’t mean he’d a bad match for me” (Y/n) said with a frown and folding her arms. She hadn’t expected the cat’s negative reaction to be so intense. “Bruno wouldn’t approve of the match. He’d tell you to find a better mate” Abbacchio protested his hackles raised in irritation and pawed at the table as his tail whipped back and forth like a snake. “Bruno’s gone! I am the village magi now! It doesn’t matter what he thinks!” (Y/n) snapped at the feline before regretting her harsh words. “Sorry kitty, it’s just this might be my only chance to land a husband... I don’t wanna be lonely” she added in a much softer tone. “Don’t say you’re lonely, you have me!” Abbacchio said insistently headbutting (Y/n)’s chest and then standing on his hind legs so he could lick her face. “It’s not the same kitty, there’s just some things a familiar can’t do for me” the young witch said patronizingly before pushing the cat back down on all fours. “I’m going to bed... goodnight” (Y/n) said patting Abbacchio’s head one final time before turning on her heel and walking towards the stairs through the living room. The next moment there was a loud crackling noise behind (Y/n) and before she could turn to look for the source, something pushed her forward onto the living room couch. (Y/n) tried to get up but a heavy weight had settled on her body. The pressure lightened for a moment and the young witch found herself laying on her back, staring up at an unfamiliar man— actually scratch that. There was no way she didn’t recognize those eyes of violet and honey. Nor was she unfamiliar with the possessive light that made those eyes almost glow in the dark. As impossible as it seemed, somehow this man had to be her feline companion turned human. “You’re so vulnerable right now...” Abbacchio purred using his freshly-aqquired hands to grope (Y/n)’s chest and pressed his nose against her shoulder inhaling her scent. He’d planned on telling her he was a werecat months ago, but the right moment had never come. “Get off me!” (Y/n) screeched trying to kick the man off and pry his hands away from her breasts. She received claws puncturing through her shirt and titflesh accompanied by a low growl from Abbacchio. She let out a pained yelp and continued to struggle frantically. “Quit fighting or I’ll have to hurt you” Abbacchio said and dug his nails deeper into (Y/n)’s skin until she stilled. When the young witch had gone limp, the werecat retracted his talons and began licking at (Y/n)’s exposed skin. Abbacchio resumed his purring as he unbuttoned the young woman’s shirt so he could lick up the blood that his claws had drawn. “Get away from me...” (Y/n) said her voice low with fear now. She would have continued her efforts to get away but she did not want to anger the male again. “Shhh let me take care of you. You don’t need that blacksmith’s son. I can give you everything you could ever want” the albino cooed hooking his fingers under the waistband of the young witch’s skirts to pull them down. He ground against (Y/n)’s hips letting her feel his eager member and his intentions. “Nonono” (Y/n) whimpered trying to grab at her skirts to keep them up and looking pleadingly at the werecat who only grinned hungrily back at her. “I’ll make sure you are never lonely again. I’ll be your husband and I’ll fill your belly with kittens. You’ll like that won’t you? Isn’t motherhood every young woman’s dream” Abbacchio purred successfully removing (Y/n)’s skirts and undergarments before pressing his cock against the young woman’s cunt. “Please Abbacchio! Please stop! Don’t, please don’t!” (Y/n) began pleading before her words were turned to whines as the werecat sunk his shaft into her. She curled her hands into fists, digging her nails into her palms until the male forced her hands open and onto his shoulders. Abbacchio pounded his mate into the couch and when he was on the cusp on finishing he dug his teeth into her shoulder to mark her. As the cloud of angry sexual energy ebbed, the werecat rearranged himself and the young witch so he was cradling her on his chest. He licked up her tears and began purring once more. (Y/n) began drifting off to exhausted sleep, fearing what her future would look like when she next woke... THE END

[visual-explorxtion]

Murder for One - One Shot

Summary: They found their way back to where the nightmare began. The Oswell E Spencer mansion. But things took a wrong turn. Chris has been murdered. And it’s up to the gang to track down his murderer.

A/N: I wanted to write a short murder mystery but I kept emphasising a lot of things so it turned out a bit longer than I’ve intended. Also been rewatching Twin Peaks so I was kinda inspired by it.

Word count: 2.3K

11:55 pm, June 14th, Oswell E Spencer's mansion.

A moonless night, just like many of the others, is a deadly premonition. BANG! The thunder roared and the split of lightning flashed that lit up the rustic library in a blink of an eye, then shrouded by darkness once more. The only light source is the lone fireplace, located on the far side of the room. The firewood crackled.

Chris is dead.

Nobody came in or out of this mansion. Except for our four little suspects: Leon S Kennedy, an American Agent working under the government; Jill Valentine, former S.T.A.R.S member and current Special Ops Agent in the BSAA; Claire Redfield, a member of TerraSave; Carlos Oliveira, former UBCS and mercenary. The four stood looking down at the corpse, the light behind their eyes extinguished along with the life of their former friend.

2 hours earlier:

Chris was sent out by HQ to investigate further about a new strain of the virus being created in the Spencer's mansion. Of course, this was all tipped by an anonymous caller. HQ should've known better. This mission was a quick data retrieval, but the rest of the group got worried when Chris hasn't returned after an hour has passed. As soon as they've received the news, the four of them came rushing to the scene of the crime. Inside, they found Chris lying cold on the oak wood flooring. Upon further investigation, they can pinpoint that Chris: took a hard blow to the head, visible strangle marks around his neck and several stab wounds in the general area of the torso. All of these could be the fatal cause of Chris's death. There was no sign of intruders or breaking of any locks which means, the killer's only access is the front door.

"Who could've done such a thing?" Claire sniffles.

"I'll contact HQ and see if we could get some back-up and analysis going." Leon tampers with his phone. "Shit, can't get a signal here."

Jill took a quick glance at Claire then focused on Chris's lifeless body, she sighs. "This isn't right. There's no blood around the corpse." she contemplates for a moment. "...which means, the murdering didn't happen in this room. Alright, let spread out and see what we can find." They nod, each set off in different directions. Claire and Carlos scout the ground floor while Leon and Jill tread lightly along the first floor. Strong wind clatter the decade-old windows and echos through the hallway, making a ghastly sound. Jill swallows. Mansions give her the creeps and often unfond memories. The upper hallway split into three separate doorways; one lead to a bathroom, another is a decorated study and lastly is the dust-coated master bedroom.

"I'll go check out the study." Leon declared, she gave an approving nod and both head on to their chosen destination, flashlight in hand. The doorknob is rusted, giving it several twists then it groaned open. The bedroom is grim with a dampened smell, furniture covered in white sheets. If this doesn't scream creepy, Jill ain't sure what else would. The beam of light continues to shine on showing nothing out of the ordinary. Suddenly, torch caught something reflective, just shying away behind the edge of the bed frame. Jill grasp the object for a closer inspection to reveal a candle holder, decaying away with time. Bingo! Bloodstains. The red liquid also seeped along the skirt of the white covers. Is this...the scene of the crime?

"Jill!" Leon cries out in distress.

The murder weapon clanked against the wooden floor. Jill sprinted in full speed towards the study only to find Leon hunched over the rows of bookshelves.

"Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?" she pants.

"Come take a look at this." he reaches out his hand.

Jill frowns. "But this is Chris's knife...Why would it be here?"

"This could be where Chris got murdered. Look, there's blood splatter across here." The crimson fluid trailed its way near the bookcase. "This can't be right...if this is the murder weapon... Wait!" Jill turned on her heels and marched farther along the hallway. She managed to pry open the last door which unveiled the unkempt bathroom, the scene mirrors the other rooms. "As I thought."

"But...this doesn't make any sense." Leon's face scrunched upon looking at its interior. The third murder weapon. A rope loosely hanging from the shower curtain rail, blood tainted the hemp thread. Must be caused by the friction against Chris's skin which broke the outer layer of the tissue.

"Leon! Jill!" Carlos's voice roared halfway across the place.

They both gave a knowing look to one another before heading off to the foyer. Claire and Carlos stood with an unsettling look on their faces.

"I think...we've found what may have killed Chris..." they both pulled out a blood-stained object. A kitchen knife and a porcelain vase. Sadness filled their eyes as they both averted their gaze away from the weapons.

"No...it's impossible. This getting more confusing by the minute." Leon huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"What do you mean? These two must be the murder weapon. The bloodstains can't lie." Claire frustrates over Leon's remarks and stood her ground.

"We found more objects like this upstairs, stained with blood, each in different rooms," Leon explains.

Jill sighs, rubbing her temple with her index finger. "Let's just...go back to the library and calmly figure this out."

"Maybe if we reenact it out, we can decode this mystery." an idea struck Carlos. Leon pats his arm before shuffling back to along the route to the library.

The temperature hasn't changed at all since they left, still cold and bitter. Chris, still laying as dead as ever, being kept warm by the fireplace. Something caught Jill's eye, an envelope, seated on top of the mantelpiece with words written in cursive. 'Open me, when the truth is revealed'. She turns the letter over. But, there were no names or any seal marks.

"Hey, was this here before?" her voice sounded quizzical.

Carlos frowns, "I don't think so...Why? What's the matter?"

Jill shakes her head. "No, it doesn't matter. Let's just focus the matter at hand right now."

The grandfather clock chimed and made the group jump. 1 am...it's been 4 hours since Chris's death, but they aren't getting any closer to catching the killer. Jill starts picking at her fingers.

"Something's off...Nobody else knows Chris is here, except us. This was a solo mission. So that means...one of us did it." Jill said, out of speculation. She's never wrong about a hunch, even if that deduction was a bold one.

"Wait, what do you mean one of us? All of us have an alibi. We were with each other for the past few hours." the sound of Leon's voice warns her that she's treading on thin ice.

"Yes, but there's a two-hour window when the murder happened. And neither one of us has proof of our alibi in the time gap."

Tension is rising in the room. Indeed, this is a huge accusation. But Jill can't just stand aside and let the murderer walk free with bloodshed on their hands, let alone with her best friends blood.

"I have an alibi," Claire spoke out. "I was stuck on the highway on my way to Chris's place and I stopped by Krispy Kreme too."

"Well, I shared a ride with Jill this whole time. She'd know if I went missing for even a split second. And before that, I was with a friend. They can prove it." Carlos raised his hand.

"Leon?" Claire asks.

Leon mumbled quietly. None of his words was audible. "You're gonna have to speak up." He let out a huge sigh. "I said, I was at the bar. Just trying to get drunk. There. Ya happy now?"

Something still doesn't feel right. Jill knew that deep down, one of them is lying. "No. This isn't it."

"What do you mean 'this isn't it'? We all have an alibi, so it's not us." Carlos grunts.

"What about you Jill? Where were you before meeting up with Carlos?" Claire's words pressed up against Jill.

"I was working overtime, finishing off some paperwork at the office."

"Was there anyone else at the office with you?"

"No...no there wasn't. Everyone already left for the day and I was the only one." Jill bites her lip.

"Oh, God. D-did you...did you kill my brother? But why? I thought you two went through everything together!" tears start spilling down Claire's cheeks.

"No! It's not me! What reason have I got for me to kill Chris? He's my best friend. What will I gain from that?!" Jill's stomach churns, even she's starting to doubt herself. Wait a minute…

Leon wraps his arms around Claire's shoulders to comfort her emotions, his head trying to get around the words that he just heard, but his feelings are numbed at this moment.

A snicker reverberates the empty library. The lightning stopped about an hour ago, silence fills the air around them. Gradually, the snicker became a period of giggles.

"Y'know, you almost had me fooled. All this time, I thought something doesn't feel quite right. Why all the different murder weapons? And why spread them apart in the mansion? I couldn't figure it out...Even I've started to doubt myself, maybe I had a hand in pushing Chris's death. But I soon realise, all that gibberish was just a smokescreen!" She picks up the envelope and peeks at its content. "As I thought exactly. The truth."

The three of them looked at Jill with a quizzical look painted on their faces.

"Yes, they are all murder weapons. They did play a part in Chris's death, but they were only induced AFTER he got murdered!" she waltzes towards Leon, holding out a hand. "Leon, if you please." His brain whirred for a moment before he knew what Jill was talking about. He placed the object in her hand per her request.

"This is the true murder weapon." Jill presented Chris's combat knife. " The actual weapon that caused the fatal blow. Isn't that right, Claire?"

Claire's eyes widen in horror. "Are you out of your mind?! How could I have killed my own brother? I have an alibi."

Carlos exhaled. "She's right. It couldn't be her."

Jill cackled. "That's what I thought at first. But, something you said made me reconsider. 'The bloodstains can't lie'. Why are you so sure about that? You and Carlos only searched the lower part of the mansion, so why are you so sure that there were bloodstains on EVERY object when we only took the vital one?"

Claire kept her head down, looking at her feet, her shoulders shivering.

"As for the alibi, I have solid proof that you did it." Jill grins. "You said you were stuck on the highway. You weren't wrong. Travelling from your apartment to Chris's will require you to take a long journey, the only way is to drive on the highway. But! From your apartment to the mansion, you do not need to get on the highway. And the mansion to Chris's place is only a short drive so you have enough time to murder Chris, plan all the objects and the bloodstains and you still have time to spare. Of course, if somebody was to kill Chris, he would immediately defeat them without breaking a sweat. But what if that person knows him well and is someone he trusts wholeheartedly? Then, the circumstance would be much different." Jill takes a deep breath. "You've planned everything perfectly but you've missed the most important and intricate detail."

"And what is that?" she asks.

"The bookcase. When Chris was looking through the documents, you killed him there and then, using his own knife. Everything in that room was built with glazed wood so the cleaning up shouldn’t have taken so long. But, you forgot about the bookcase. Specks of blood were left on the hinges." she exhales. "Oh! And there's a new Krispy Kreme that just opened two blocks away from his place. I know because he took me there last week."

Claire's sniffing stopped. Her gaze remained on the ground. A soft hum came out of her mouth, slowly it turned into a giggle and lead to a burst of bellowing laughter.

"Well, colour me impressed. So what if I killed my own brother, hm?" She skipped her way toward his corpse. "The killing was quick. But the cleaning up! That took a whole hour!"

"You're sick. That's your brother."

"And what about it? Maybe he should have done what I told him not to do. Maybe then, he'd still be alive. Who told him to eat the last chicken nugget? It was mine! But he didn't listen to me. HE SHOULD HAVE LISTENED!"

"THAT'S ENOUGH!" A voice boomed as the door opens.

"Chris???" They said in unison.

Chris stare at them and sigh. The group sitting gathered around the coffee table in Chris's new apartment playing Cluedo at 1 in the morning. Jill and Claire having a go at each other's throats, Carlos sitting comfortably watching as this goes down and Leon's been on his phone for the past 5 minutes.

"But it was just getting good. We've just revealed who murdered you." Claire gave him the sad puppy eyes.

"Why am I the one getting murdered? Can't you use the default characters?" Chris frowns. "Also, do you want me to get kicked out again? This is my housewarming party and I don't want to receive any noise complaint as a housewarming gift. Now, tidy up. The pizzas' getting cold."

The four of them obeyed his command obediently, setting up the table for the awaited pizzas. Claire waltz her way towards the kitchen, just next to the dining table. "Hey! Who ate the last doughnut?"

Chris's face drained to a pale shade of gray. Discreetly, he backed out of the room, tip-toeing stealthily. Fist clenched as Claire raged. "CHRIS!"

[generallynerdy]

Our Little Secret Part 11 (Merlin & Child!Reader, Mordred X Reader)

Parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, and 10

Summary: Some time after (Y/N) saves Elyan’s life during Gwen’s rescue, Merlin, Gwen, and Arthur seem to disappear and Gaius provides terrible excuses, so Mordred and (Y/N) decide to investigate.

Key: (Y/N) - your name

Warnings: flying swords, gargoyles that shoot murder, near death experiences, injuries, cursing

Word Count: 2,434

Note: YOU CAN PRY ELYAN FROM MY COLD DEAD HANDS (saving him didn’t last long enough to be a whole chapter so have an extra long one with the events of S5E9, you needy hoes. Jk ily <3)

    Fear gripped (Y/N)’s heart when Elyan took off ahead of them. The Dark Tower was no light matter, but neither was the fact that Gwen’s life was at risk. (Y/N) remembered when Merlin told her what Queen Mab had said-- though she had barely been listening, as she was still giving him the silent treatment. One of them would not return today. That was when she knew in her heart that Elyan was about to die.

    Glancing at the pressured stones and the gargoyles from which bolts would be fired if she stepped forward, she saw Elyan disappear through the distant door and knew she could not wait a moment longer.

    “Damn it,” she muttered.

    Then, (Y/N) sprinted forward, keeping her head low to avoid most of the bolts.

    “(Y/N)!” Merlin shouted after her, the others echoing his worries. None of their exclamations made her turn.

    One bolt flew right at her, but her eyes flashed yellow and it swerved, missing her by a mere inch. She kept running anyway, right past the door and up the stairs. She heard shouting in the distance, from both the knights and elsewhere. Worse still, she heard the clanging of swords colliding.

    (Y/N) stormed into the room, greeted with the sight of a flying sword, which Elyan defended himself from. Gwen was on the other side of the room, on the ground and shouting at her brother to run. Her attempts were useless, considering he was a stubborn bastard, and the sword flung at him in a moment of weakness, just about to pierce his heart.

    “NO!” (Y/N) screamed, jumping forward to shove him out of the way.

    She grabbed the sword by its hilt, using her magic out of sight from the two siblings to keep it in her hands. “Open the window!” She shouted down at Elyan. “Open the window!”

Elyan leapt to his feet and ripped open the wooden shutters of the window, nodding at her. With all her might, (Y/N) flung it out the open window.

    “Thank you,” He huffed. He then glanced at the window, his eyes suddenly getting wide. “It’s coming back!”

    “Shut the window! Shut the window!” (Y/N) frantically pulled one side shut, while her companion got the other.

    Just as the window was shut off and they stepped back, the sword stabbed through the wood with a sickening shink. Exhausted, Elyan and (Y/N) collapsed to the ground, almost drunken smiles on their faces. Elyan reached over, hand raised for a high five. She did so amusedly, regretting it instantly as pain shot up her arm, making her groan.

    The others raced in, panicked at the sight of them on the ground, but relieved to find them unharmed. Arthur raced to Gwen’s side, but the others checked on Elyan and (Y/N).

    “You’re alive,” Leon sighed in relief.

    Elyan nodded at the young woman. “Thanks to (Y/N).”

    Gwaine’s gaze was drawn to the blade in the window. “What the hell is that thing?”

    “Flying sword,” (Y/N) laughed wheezily.

    “Fun.”

    The journey outside was a slow one and Merlin could only catch the dear (Y/N) before they were to depart, stopping her before she mounted her horse. She searched his face for signs of anger, but there were none, surprisingly.

    “If you died today,” he said, grip firm on her arm. “I never would have forgiven myself.”

    She looked at him strangely and swallowed. “Maybe I should have, then,” she spat. “It’s about time you felt guilty about your mistakes.”

    “(Y/N)?” Mordred called as he entered the knights’ quarters.

    The young woman poked her head out from her room. “In here!”

    She went back inside, still getting her armour together for the day. It was early morning and she wished she wasn’t awake, but the work of a knight was never finished, it seemed.

    As Mordred entered, he kissed her cheek and sat on the bed, not wanting to interrupt her work. “Good morning.”

    “Morning,” she hummed. Then, she tilted her head, noticing that he was staring into space. “Something on your mind?”

    “Have you seen Merlin or Arthur at all today?”

    (Y/N) laughed, “Sometimes I think you fancy them more than you do me.” He smiled sheepishly as she leaned down to kiss him softly before going back to her armour. “But no, I haven’t seen them. Why?”

    “Well, the queen is gone, too,” he said. “I just thought it odd.”

    “Gaius said they went out hunting,” (Y/N) told him. “There’s nothing suspicious about that.”

    Mordred frowned. “I don’t know. Last night, Merlin and Gaius passed by Gwaine and I with someone’s body covered up. They said it was a young man fallen ill, but as they walked away, I swear I saw a woman’s hand fall from the cart.”

    “That does sound suspicious…” (Y/N) abandoned her armour and sat beside him on the bed. “Gwen has been acting odd lately.”

    Mordred nodded. “I think we should go after them.”

    “I think you’re right,” she sighed, taking his hand. “We can’t tell the knights. It’ll just be you and me. Do you think you’re ready for that?”

    He smiled, caressing her fingers with his thumb. “Wherever you go, I’ll follow. Doesn’t matter if I’m ready or not.”

    Following Merlin and Arthur’s tracks was not an easy task, but between the druid and the knight, they managed.

It came to a point where the way was so treacherous that they needed to tether their horses, leaving them with a few days’ worth of food and water. They saw two horses from the royal stables, which brought them comfort and reassurance that Merlin and Arthur had made it that far.

However, when the pair reached the high point of a rocky ridge, the two men’s tracks simply...stopped. It was as if they had disappeared into thin air. The only thing they found was Gwen’s unconscious body, though (Y/N) deemed that she was still breathing.

“Where could they be?” Mordred muttered. “They never would have left her by herself like this.”

For a second, (Y/N) feared they had fallen over the edge and glanced down from the ridge. Suddenly, spotting two bodies at the bottom, she gasped. “Mordred! Here!”

    He was at her side in an instant, gazing down into the valley. Merlin’s body lie still beside Arthur’s, which was halfway trapped under a rock. (Y/N) felt frozen at the idea of them dead, but the king began to move, attempting to remove himself from under the boulder.

    Mordred pulled a length of rope from his bag and leaned over the edge. “Arthur!” He called out as he held the rope high, getting the man’s attention.

    The king looked up to see both of them and sighed in relief. “Check on Guinevere!”

    “We already have, sire.” He shouted back. “She sleeps soundly.”

    “We’re coming down!” (Y/N) told him. “How is Merlin?”

    Arthur sighed. “Unconscious. He fell off the ridge.”

    “Typical,” she scoffed, making Mordred snort under his breath. She grinned before turning her attention back to the king. “Hold on, your highness! We’re on our way!”

    “Gwen?” (Y/N) asked, glancing toward said woman’s sleeping form. “It can’t be.”

    “It seems impossible,” Mordred agreed. “The queen has the sweetest of natures.”

    “It was never her. Just Morgana,” Arthur sighed. He looked up at the two, glancing between them. “I’m sorry I didn’t confide in you-- either of you.”

    Mordred spoke first. “It’s best you didn’t. If I hadn’t had my suspicions, we wouldn’t have followed you.”

    “It’s true,” (Y/N) nodded. “I didn’t notice anything odd until he pointed it out.”

    “Merlin acting strangely,” Mordred added.

    Arthur smiled to himself. “Is that so unusual?”

    “And the levy route being changed,” the young man continued.

    (Y/N) hummed thoughtfully. “Even I thought that was odd. The manner of the meeting itself-- what, with just us and Leon.”

    “You had a funny feeling,” Arthur smirked knowingly at Merlin.

    “My lord?”

    Arthur waved him off. “I’m glad that you did, Mordred. WIthout the two of you, I fear I would have lost my arm at the very least.”

    “I would have woken,” Merlin protested.

    “Merlin, if I had to rely on your timekeeping, I’d have lost both my arms and my legs to boot,” Arthur huffed.

    Mordred chuckled at their banter, but (Y/N) rolled her eyes, by far used to it by now.

    “It’s good to have you both with us,” Arthur finished. “Four’s always better than two, isn’t it, Merlin?”

    “Of course,” he replied, sending an odd look to Mordred.

    (Y/N) glared at him fiercely, which sent his gaze away for a while. Mordred, meanwhile, looked to her with furrowed eyebrows, almost confused at what he had done to anger the man so. He had yet to realise Merlin was acting strange about their pairing-- or perhaps it was just Mordred he was acting odd around.

    When Arthur went to give Gwen her next dose of Belladonna tincture, Mordred stood and kneeled next to Merlin, sending (Y/N) a knowing glance.

    “You don’t trust me, do you, Merlin?” He asked.

    “I believe you to be a--” he took in a deep breath. “A fine knight.”

    “But not one to be trusted,” Mordred finished. “It’s alright. I know you have the king’s best interests at heart-- and (Y/N)’s. I only wish you’d believe that I do, too. One day, I shall prove my loyalty to you, to (Y/N), and to the king. Then I hope we may be friends.”

    Merlin eyed him curiously. “I could wish for nothing more.”

    At that, Mordred returned to (Y/N)’s side, whispering a quick word of comfort. He leaned into her as she looked across their camp at Merlin. She searched his face for the expression of a liar, but wasn’t sure if she found one. She couldn’t tell if he was genuine about wanting to be friends with Mordred.

    “You’ve proved yourself to me already, love,” she whispered to Mordred. “You don’t have to anymore.”

    He shook his head. “Maybe I don’t have to prove my love to you, but I think Merlin needs more convincing. If that’s what it takes to get you two talking again, then that’s what I’ll do.”

    She smiled sweetly at him, kissing his cheek just as Arthur returned to their little gathering.

    The king sighed. “Well, if you’re going to be doing that the entire time, I almost regret welcoming you.”

    The path to the cauldron Merlin spoke of was easy beyond the ridge. Mordred and (Y/N) helped Merlin carry the bags, while Arthur carried Guinevere.

    Well, it was easy until a dragon came upon them. Merlin fended it off, Mordred and (Y/N) waiting for him as they watched Arthur go on ahead, his queen in his arms. When Merlin ran back, they all started after the pair, but were knocked off their feet by a conjured gust of wind. When (Y/N) shook off the ringing in her head, Merlin was pulling her down the path, away from where they had been.

    “Come on, we have to get to Arthur,” he said, dragging her along.

    However, she stopped him, suddenly realising Mordred wasn’t there. “What about Mordred?”

    Merlin hesitated. “Morgana is there, (Y/N). This is our chance to--”

    “Your chance,” she hissed instantly, pulling her arm from his grip. “I really thought you meant it, the part about wanting to be his friend. I was wrong.”

    (Y/N) didn’t give him a chance to say anything before she was sprinting back to Mordred, who she saw on the path in the distance. He was standing opposite Morgana, the two facing off, though the witch seemed more welcoming than he. Of course, she was fond of him, even after he stabbed her at Ismere so long ago.

    “Mordred!” (Y/N) exclaimed, drawing her sword and standing beside him.

    “You both wear  the armour well, but we know what lies underneath,” Morgana said, acknowledging her presence. “Do you think Arthur would tolerate either of you for one minute if he knew the truth? Two of his knights? Sorcerers?”

    (Y/N) glared her down. “You’re wrong.”

    “One day he will know,” Mordred chimed in. “One day we will be accepted.”

    “Your naivety would be charming if it wasn’t so dangerous,” Morgana spat. “Where’s Emrys?”

    (Y/N)’s heart dropped. She wondered if Mordred would reveal Merlin to her. She wondered if he realised how important it was to keep the man's secret to themselves.

    “Emrys?” Mordred asked, eyebrows furrowed.

    “You pretend you do not know of whom I speak?”

    He shook his head. “It is a name I’ve only heard of.”

    “He’s not here?” Morgana tilted her head. “With you?”

    “If he was, would we all not feel the presence of such a great sorcerer?” Mordred questioned her.

    (Y/N) almost laughed, but kept it internalized. She could not give Merlin away, no matter how he frustrated her. He was Camelot’s greatest weapon, its greatest kept secret. Though, she had to admit, if he endangered Mordred’s life again, he would be a dead man.

    “Then I have no further use for you,” Morgana said.

    Mordred put an arm in front of (Y/N). “You would strike your own? I am not strong enough to defeat you, Morgana, nor is she, but know this. Such hatred as yours can never triumph. I hope one day you will find the love and compassion which used to fill your heart.”

    The witch seemed lost for words and in her moment of weakness, Mordred flung out his hand. His eyes flashed a fiery gold and she was sent flying across the valley, landing unconscious.

    (Y/N) exhaled sharply and put a hand on his arm, lowering it. He met her gaze, uncertain.

    “You did the right thing,” she said. “She might have hurt us. Being her own people never stopped her before.”

    He reached down to touch her wrist, remembering the faint scars that lied there. He was then snapped from his trance and looked down the rocky path. “We have to find Arthur.”

    Mordred took (Y/N)’s hand and they began to run after their king and queen, leaving behind them a mere shadow of the Lady Morgana they had once known. She was as lost to them as she was her other old friends, but (Y/N) had a feeling that was not the last time she would try to convince Mordred to join her.

Merlin Tags: @pearlll09​‘

Part 12

Masterlist

[darley1101]

Broken Fairytales Part 3: They All Fall Down

A/N This is more of a disclaimer. There will be several character deaths in this chapter. Some of them are really going to hurt. Writing this chapter was extremely hard. As someone who not only writes but reads fanfiction, I know that some of you are going to be upset. Please know that the characters that were chosen were chosen for a reason and that their deaths are crucial to the story I am trying to tell. If you are new to the story and would like to read the first two parts you can find them HERE

Trigger warning: character death and anxiety.

Word Count: 3034

tagging people who requested or might be interested:  @debramcg1106 @umccall71@alwaysthebestchoice @starstruckpixelberryhistoryvoid @indiacater @penguininapinktuxedo @boneandfur@laniquelove @3pawandme @museofbooks @bryannaberg4 @adgodleilimaxtmerpano @kingliamthirst @tmarie82 @boneandfur @drakewalkerwhipped@woshisilvia @rain18rain @never-ending-choices @captainkingliam@mrsnazario1223 @drakelover78 @gardeningourmet@nicestrokepam @bitchbrenner @iknewyoudcomearound @zilch3382 @hamulau @seirhukastan @lemongrove @rachelloouise@moodygrip @hhiggs  @hopefulmoonobject @jamielea81(if I missed anyone I apologize!)

permatag: @blackcatkita @josieschoices @endlessly-searching-for-you @mfackenthal @hamulau

Part Three:

They All Fall Down

It was a nightmare, the sort that was impossible to wake from. That was the only logical explanation Maxwell Beaumont could accept as he flattened himself against the ground. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to focus on a mental image of his best friend Karin's corgi Sir Wigglesworth. Sweet Wiggles with his bright eyes and very wiggly bottom. Not even the image of Wiggles with his tongue lulling out of the side of his mouth was enough to take Maxwell's mind off the fact that beneath him the white marble floor was stained red with blood. At this point, he couldn't even pinpoint whose blood he was lying in, other than it wasn't his own. Bodies littered the floor. Some were lifeless corpses riddled with bullet holes. Others were frightened people trying to be as still as death, hoping the masked men would either tire of whatever statement they were trying to make or run out of ammo. To Maxwell, it didn't matter. The damage was already done. Whether they stopped shooting now or continued for the next six hours, it wouldn't change the fact that his brother was among the dead.

“Maxwell?”

Over the din of gunfire and screaming, Maxwell can hear Hana calling his name. He tried to answer her, to tell her that he heard her and that he was alive, but his mouth felt as though cotton had been shoved in it. His body flinched as slender fingers dug into both his upper arms. “Maxwell, come on,” he heard Hana pleading. “Please. You need to get up. I need for you to get up.”

No! His mind screamed against the idea. Maxwell couldn't move. He had to stay where he was. Bertrand had told him to get down, to stay down. He hadn't listened the first time. He'd wanted to make sure his friends were okay. He'd needed to know that they were all okay. And then it happened. Bertrand had grabbed him and told him to get down. It had been the last thing his brother ever said to him. Seconds later a bullet had exploded in his chest. And then another and another. God, would that image ever go away? “Maxwell, please. Listen to me. We have to get out of here and in order to do that, I need for you to get up.”

Maxwell forced himself to look at her. Her almond shaped eyes were swollen and her nose red from crying. There was a large bloody hand print in the folds of her lavender silk gown, as though someone had reached up and grabbed her. It took him a moment to realize it was his and that he had another section of her skirt clutched in his fist. “Bertrand...” he said in a raw voice. Her eyes filled with tears.

“I know. I...I closed his eyes.” Her lower lip started to tremble. “I...I think Constantine as well as Kiara are gone as well.” Her throat visibly worked up and down as she lowered herself down so that she lay facing him. “I don't want to die Maxwell,” she whispered. “Not like this.” She reached out and cupped his cheek in the palm of her hand. “There's nobody near the door to the kitchens. We...we can make it. I just know it.” The pad of her thumb stroked soothingly across his cheek bone. “It's not far. Maybe ten feet.”

Ten feet. It might as well be ten miles. No, it was best to stay where he was. At least this way, if he didn't make it out of this alive, he was near Bertrand. His mother would want it that way. “You go without me.”

“I'm not going without you,” Hana bit out through clenched teeth. “You listen to me Maxwell Beaumont. You are going to get up and you are going to make a run for that door with me, do you understand?”

He wanted to tell her that he understood but his tongue wouldn't work. All he could think about was Bertrand was gone. He had nothing left. He was alone. That isn't true,  a voice in his head scolded. The voice sounded oddly like Hana. Hana, who was lying in the blood with him, begging him to come with her. To run away from this nightmare. “Okay,” he finally croaked out, taking a shuddering breath.

“On the count of three,” Hana whispered. Her hand slid from his cheek and flattened against the floor as she prepared to rise. He missed her touch, missed that connection with humanity. Without it, he felt cold and alone.“One.” She rose part of the way up, bundling her skirt in one fist. “Two.” Maxwell forced himself into a crouch, his heart pounding like crazy. “Three.” As they vaulted to their feet, Hana grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the staff doors that led to the kitchen. He kept waiting, waiting for the masked men to spot them and order them back to the floor; or worse, shoot them on the spot. Neither happened. By some miracle they made it.

“We did it,” he said it awe. They'd made it. They had actually made it.

“Not yet,” Hana panted. “We still have to-”

Behind her the door swung open. Leo stood there, his sea colored eyes wild as he slowly raised his hands and placed them on his head. His actions didn't make sense until one of the masked men nudged him further into the kitchen, a gun poking him in the small of his back. “Who are they,” the man demanded when he noticed they were not alone. .

Fuck!

Oh fuck!

He knew it. He knew he should have stayed on the floor. Nothing good came from not listening. Hadn't he learned that less than thirty minutes ago when his brother was shot and killed trying to get him to lie on the floor. “They're nobody,” he heard Leo say. He bristled at the implication. He was a fucking Beaumont and that meant something! “Just guests.”

“They look like more than guests.”

Hana squeezed his hand. Her fingers felt like ice. He tried to squeeze back, to reassure her that whatever happened, she wasn't alone, but he couldn't get his fingers to work. She squeezed again, a little harder this time. How was she so calm? There was no fear on her face, just a calm that Maxwell didn't understand.  

“They're nobody.” Leo insisted, the panic in his eyes reflected in his voice. “You wanted me to take you to the vault, to open it for you. How about we just leave them and carry on, yeah?”

“I'll decide if they're-”

A peculiar look formed in the masked man's eyes as his words are suddenly cut off. He wove to and fro for a moment before pitching forward. He hit the ground face first, his gun clattering against the tiled floor. Directly behind him stood a wild eyed Madeleine. Her usually perfect blonde curls were a mess around her stark white face and the front of her emerald silk dress gown sported what looked like a sizable amount of blood. Given the current state of the ballroom, none of that was surprising. What was surprising was the mace she clutched in her hand. Maxwell had seen it numerous times on the wall of the ballroom. Legend had it that it once belonged to a mighty warrior named Leon, who lost his life protecting his Queen. It could now add saving a former Crown Prince, a steel magnolia of a lady, and an anxiety addled nobleman to its history.  “Maddie.” Leo's voice cut through the tense silence. He slowly reached out, his large hand momentarily covering Madeleine's smaller one before he tried to gently pry the mace from her grip. She held tight, pulling her arm back slightly. “Maddie, it's me, Leo.”

Annoyance twisted her pretty features. “I know who you are Leo.” She brought the mace up against her chest, hugging it to her breasts. She lowered her lashes, her gaze fixated on the prone guard. A pool of dark red blood had started to ooze from the wound on the back on his head. “Is he dead? Did I kill him?” Her voice was so low Maxwell almost didn't hear her. There was a definite tremble to it, as though she too, were struggling to keep it together.

“I don't know and I don't particularly care.” Leo scowled down at their would be attacker. “His comrades will no doubt come looking for him. I suggest we not be here when that happens.”

“Leo is right,” Hana agreed softly. “We need to get out of here while we can.”

“No,” Madeleine shook her head, her green eyes glistening with unshed tears. “My mother is still in there.” She plucked at the blood stain on her dress. “They shot her. She wasn't doing anything, just standing there...and they shot her.” Her whole body seemed to fold in on itself as she curled forward, the mace still clutched to her bosom. “There was so much blood. I didn't know someone could bleed that much.” Her eyes met Maxwell's and in them he seen someone who understood his pain. She had often found herself at odds with her mother, much the way he had been at odds with Bertrand. There had always seemed to be enough time to apologize or compromise. Or so Maxwell had thought. Now there was no time. No time to tell Bertrand how much he appreciated the sacrifices his brother had made to finish raising him. No time to tell Bertrand that he loved him and that he was proud that they were brothers. No time to tell Bertrand that he was right, that Maxwell did need to grow up. I'm sorry brother, he thought miserably. I should have listened to you more. It was obvious from the pain on Madeleine's face that she was having similar thoughts about her mother.

“Madeleine, the best way to help your mother is to get out of here safely. You can't help her if you get yourself hurt or, worse, killed.” Steel magnolia Hana was back. Where she drew her strength, Maxwell did not know. It was admirable though, the way she was strong when she needed to be. She would break down later, when her strength was no longer needed. That was Hana's way.

“Nobody can help her,” Madeleine whispered bitterly. “Do you really think any of those...those animals are going to let anyone in to help their victims?”

There was truth to what she said. Even Leo and Hana had to acknowledge it. Acknowledging it didn't seem to detour Hana. “Listen to you. Giving up without trying? What happened to the girl who walked in here and clubbed an armed guard over the head? I want that girl.”

Madeleine blinked, her lips parted. “You're right,” she said. “Do you know how hard that is for me to admit?”

“Sheer torture, I'm sure,” Leo muttered as he walked past Maxwell and towards one of the stainless steel industrial sized freezers. “Safest route is going to be through the delivery tunnels.”

“And those are inside the freezer?” Hana eyed Leo skeptically.

“Actually, yes,” Madeleine answered. “King Perc-”

“They don't need or want a lecture on how one of my grandfather didn't want deliveries made in the open.” Leo yanked open a freezer door and swept his arm toward the inside. “Ladies and Beaumont's first.”

Single file, they entered the freezer. Around them hung slabs of meat, even a whole hogs. Maxwell shivered and tried not to throw up as he bumps into what used to be a cow. Leo took the opportunity to forge his way past. Ahead of him, Maxwell can hear Madeleine muttering. Under normal circumstances he would assume she was bitching about their surroundings. Things weren't particularly normal at the moment and she didn't seem phased by all the bodies hanging around them. “Are you alright,” he heard Hana whisper to the other woman.

“About as alright as the rest of you, I suppose,” Madeleine whispered back. “I can't stop thinking about my mother. We didn't always get along but she's my mother.”

“I'm sorry Madeleine...”

He couldn't hear the rest of their conversation over the loud blast of air that shot out from a vent above his head. He could feel the damp blood that still clung to him starting to frost. Unable to fight the wave of panic welling up in him, Maxwell started clawing at his suit. He had to get it off. He couldn't stand it anymore. His jacket refused to cooperate. It was as though it had become one with his flesh. “Gotta get it off,” he muttered, his breathes coming in short panicked bursts.

“Maxwell.”

He stopped his panicked clawing and found Madeleine, Hana, and Leo staring at him. “I need to get it off me,” he choked, clawing at his jacket once more.

“I understand,” Hana nodded. She stepped toward him, a determined look on her face. Bowing her head gracefully, her long, slender fingers shoo his clumsy ones away and she makes quick work of the buttons that had been holding him up. Gently, she pushed the jacket off his shoulders. He couldn't get it off fast enough. His shirt and undershirt followed suit, leaving him naked from the waist up.

“Give him your jacket Leo,” Madeleine said quietly.

“Right.” Leo shrugged out of his jacket and gently wrapped it around Maxwell's shoulders. “We'll be out of here soon, buddy, I promise.”

Maxwell couldn't bring himself to nod. He silently followed Leo through the freezer to the little door at the back of it. A blast of warm air hits them as they tumble out of the meat locker and into one of the delivery tunnels. Darkness engulfs them momentarily as the freezer door slams shut and locks behind them. He can hear Leo mumbling under his breath before a switch is flipped and dim overhead lights blink on. “This will lead to the service road. It's a short walk to the village from there.”

Madeleine shook her head. “You're an even bigger fool than I thought if you think walking into the village is a good idea. For all you know the villagers are the ones who orchestrated this whole thing!”

“Well we can't hide in here forever Maddie,” Leo snapped. “Do you have a better idea?”

“Don't call me Maddie, and yes, actually, I do. The service road also leads to the orchards. There should be some delivery trucks that haven't been loaded yet parked there. The keys are almost always hidden in the visors. We can take one and drive for help.”

It was a solid plan. The annoyed look on Leo's face suggested he thought so too. “Where will we drive for help though,” Hana asked. She had slid her arm through his, her slender body pressing against his side as they drew closer to the exit.

“I don't know,” Madeleine answered honestly. “I feel as though my country and her people have betrayed me.”

“We don't know who sent those men,” Leo argued. “They could just as easily be from Italy-”

Hana shook her head. “That isn't likely. The Italian Statesmen we met in Italy was one of the first ones killed.”

“Francesco?” Leo stared at Hana in disbelief. The sadness in his eyes confused Maxwell. Just moments ago he was suggesting Italy was behind the attack, but now he was sad over the death of the Italian Statesmen. “So...not Italy,” he murmured. “Russia perhaps?”

“Russia is too preoccupied with the United States,” Hana pointed out. “Plus, they’ve never cared about us before.”

“Open your eyes Leo. This was personal,” Madeleine snapped. “It wasn't about political gain, it was about political freedom. They specifically chose an event where all of the Royal family would be in attendance, as well as the Council of the People, and representatives from each of the Noble houses. They wanted to eradicate the monarchy.”

Hana cleared her throat. “We should probably sort this out later. If this was an inside job, its only a matter of time before they think to check here.”

“She's right,” Leo sighed. “Now isn't the time to sort this out.” He scrubbed a hand down his face. The weight of the world was etched on his features, a weariness dimming the light in his eyes. “Madeleine, much as it pains me, your suggestion of heading for the orchards is our best option.”

It was their only option, Maxwell thought. If Madeleine was right in her assessment that this attack had occurred in the name of political freedom, it was only a matter of time before the masked men started hunting down the remaining members of the noble houses, specifically the heirs. Bartie, he thought, his heart catching in his throat. The thought of anyone harming his tiny nephew...No. They wouldn't go after Bartie, he realized. They would come after him. According to Cordonian law, Bartie had no claims to House Beaumont or Bertrand's seat in the House of Representatives. That honor fell to Maxwell.

“Are you alright,” Hana whispered, pulling him into a half hug. Seeing no point in lying, Maxwell shook his head. “It's going to be alright. We're going to be alright.” He wanted to believe her, wished that he could believe her, but he couldn't. None of them were ever going to be alright ever again.

[theirsweetesttaboo]

Serendipity: Part 2

Featured Couple: Tatum & Leon

Note: The setting for this takes place in an alternate universe storyline, where Tatum and Leon meet as much younger versions of themselves.

A shiver of delight ran through him from her fingers alone. Her touch could soothe even the most relentless aches and muscles. He'd silently watched as she searched for the ideal spot for his next tattoo. Even from this angle, she was the most stunning girl he'd ever laid eyes on. Even when her hot breath graced his bare skin, he couldn't resist playing with her hair, letting his fingers twist around her dark locks. Never in a million years would he have understood such a deep connection coming from anyone until he'd met her. The girls he slept with in the past were all about the physical aspect of their shared, temporary fun. None of it involved emotion like it had with Tatum. With her, it just came out naturally, and it wasn't anything he wanted to put a stop to, either. Not after the days he spent thinking about her long before sex became a factor.

But when her tongue and lips greeted his pec, his eyes nearly rolled into the back of his head as his hand slid to the back of her neck. He couldn't even remember exactly what she said, but the sound of her voice was more than enough to get his dick hard again.

"I can't keep this up," he pleaded, his voice almost hoarse. "I need you again."

He had to have her in his arms, whether she was on top of him, beneath him, or sitting on his lap, he just couldn't let her go.

"How about it?" he suggested as he withdrew his hand from her neck, but not before stroking the side of her face, allowing his thumb to rub along her juicy bottom lip. "I'll show you mine if you show me yours?"

Even in his lustful state, he couldn't resist acting playful. It was part of his personality, something he was unable to hide from anyone or himself. But maybe, just maybe all of this was a sign from the universe. If she could handle him with how he looked now, down the road, he could reveal his true appearance to her with nothing being held back. Yet any more thoughts of his inhuman appearance was swiftly being sent off into the furthest regions of his mind as he prepared to shrug his shirt off for good for this next round--IF there as a next round. He wouldn't be mad if she decided she was too tired. As she was previously a virgin, she might be sore and not up for going at it again. So long as she just wanted to be with him, period, then it didn't matter if he had to blue ball it.

The way his body trembled under her fingertips mixed along with the heavy breath that followed after her lips touched his chest - it caused all those wild little sensations to spark back up inside her. She couldn’t understand why it was so hard for her to control herself around him. Control was always something she had a good firm grip on - but not with him. Every bit of self-control she had was gone the moment he pulled up into her driveway.  It’s not something she understands but it’s not something she’s questioning because all of this felt as natural as breathing.

A playful tongue brushing along his thumb as it smoothed against her lips. His confession along with his offer had her wasting no time. Though she knew somehow, some way she would have to find a way to control herself after this round. Her body healed way to quickly which would eventually draw questions from him. It might have been her first time but she wasn’t oblivious to how a human body worked.

Now that they were in the back of the van with the doors closed? She had zero restraint.  Privacy - with no prying eyes.

She pulled away from him long enough to pull off her shorts and panties again - tossing them off to the side. Before giving him time to react her hands hand found their way to the button of his pants. Lips showering his neck with feather light kisses while she worked with him to remove his pants and boxers. Her lips lingering at his ear. “Me saying ‘no’ isn’t something you’re gonna have to worry about.”

Crawling up on his laps she helps to push his unbuttoned shirt down his arms, then she returns the favor by pulling off her shirt and bra - not concerned in the least where it lands. Leaning forward her lips capture his, a sigh falling against them as her hands move along his abs and chest. Flesh on flesh with no barriers between them now. Her hips lift just enough to angle herself just right... her warmth sheathing around him as she takes him back inside her. Her head falling back as a deep moan spills from her lips.

His gaze was filled with pure lust and intensity the second her warm, wet pussy welcomed his cock back with a slick, tight hug. He snaked a hand between them as soon as her head fell back, where he eagerly grabbed one of her breasts. He pinched and twisted a nipple while his other hand grabbed her ass as she rocked her body up and down. Nothing short of hot and erotic, watching her perky tits bounce like that.

He kissed his way upward: starting at her shoulder, then her slender throat, and finally her chin. This whole experience with both of them naked was eye-opening to say the very least. It left him vulnerable in ways he never imagined himself doing with any woman. Something about Tatum struck him as nothing short of remarkable, but he still needed to take it easy, and not allow any slip ups. He WAS supposed to play human, after all. While there was no question how clearly fond he was of her, how far would those feelings go if/when she discovered what he was? In hindsight, they still barely knew one another, but he wouldn't be opposed to getting to know more about her, and allowing her to know more about him--if she were the open-minded type.

For now, the thoughts of the future were pushed away as the present was more than enough to keep him enticed. When their lips met once more, his tongue thrust itself into her mouth as he now gripped her hands with both hands, helping her build a nice, steady, but hard rhythm between them. The slick sounds of their bodies slapping, skin rubbing, followed by the grunts and moans coming from their mouths, made it almost impossible for any attempts to prolong the blissful oncoming "O" for them both.

With one hand still having a possessive grip over her ass, he sat his other hand behind him, allowing him some leverage, as he moved his hips in a way that allowed his dick to hit upward into her core. When she came down, he'd thrust in hard.

"Just like this..." he said huskily, his eyes now hazy. "Fuck, so fucking good, baby...!"

The pure electricity in the air darting between them with each second that passed.  A slow needy throb started building in the pit of her stomach as she rocked her hips up and down his shaft, feeling him grow harder, longer…

“Oh god!” she gasped, her voice ending in a sharp cry. Her nails dug into his skin as her hips rocked against him, her orgasm building with alarming alacrity. She was so sensitive, so primed from earlier, from having him inside her, from hearing his pleasured shouts as he’d filled her so perfectly… Heat rushed over the surface of her skin, everything roaring towards her center as she thrust down on him, her cries growing louder and louder… every inch of her was focused on his mouth, on his fingers gripping her skin - on her hips rocking against him - how amazing his tongue felt against her own. A chill roared down her spine with the mere thought of how it would feel in another place... she damn near lost it then and there.

“I thought about this moment.” Confession broke with heavy pants against his lips. “So much better than I could have imagined.” A few more moans spilled from her, only to be muffled by his. “So much better than I made it feel.” Goosebumps cascaded along her skin. “My fingers…  on my… I rubbed myself, thinking about you, thinking about your mouth on me… so many times.” Each time his hips roughly thrust up into her, his shaft brushed along her sensitive clit, pushing her that much closer to her breaking point.

She whined against his scalp, her breath hot and humid, her voice breaking as she moaned out his name... “Leon... Oh god...” Her inner walls clenched around him without rhythm. Hips rocked harder and faster. Her hips burned, but she didn’t dare stop. Especially when her body tried to stiffen, her mouth fell open in a silent scream against his jaw.

“I’m going to come...” she warned him as a flash of bright light burst before her eyes. No matter, she wouldn’t stop, she didn’t care how long it took. She wouldn’t be satisfied until she felt him throbbing inside her, spilling himself for her and only her.

He tightened his hold over her even as she once again drenched his cock with her sweet release. The sound of her cries and the warmth of her skin drove him to near insanity, making him pound her harder. In and out he continued thrusting, flesh slapping against flesh, his breathing labored, his need to reclaim her overwhelming. The more feral part of him wanted her to know that she belonged to him even if this... whatever they had... was still brand new. So new, but so raw and primal, filled with desire and yearning. Faster and faster he moved, continuing with his control of their tempo and the movement of his hips, knowing she'd be sore as hell after all was said and done, but he didn't care.

"I wanna... hear you talk... like that more..." he gasped, digging his nails into the fleshy parts of her ass as his ultimate desire shot straight to his balls. With a needy growl, he went still as his own orgasm smashed through him like a freight train, and he shot his load into her. The pleasure zinged up and down his body, head to toe, and he was temporarily blinded by the intensity of it all.

Panting steadily, he pressed his forehead against her shoulder, knowing his eyes were shifting between round "normal" pupils and thin black slits. His true self had its fill for now, even though he knew damned well there was so much more the two of them could do together. Just thinking about Tatum touching herself and making those sensual sounds like she did moments ago would surely get his manhood up and throbbing again. Unlike human males, he didn't need much time to get it up and back into action, but he knew he'd be pushing it if he really couldn't contain himself sexually, and the last thing he wanted was for Tatum to wonder what was going on with him.

By the time he was able to look up at her, his eyes were back to "normal" and a sly smirk was seen on his face.

"How'd you enjoy the ride, cowgirl?" he teased.

For a small moment, she almost started feeling embarrassed over the confessions he drew out of her without even trying. That singular moment quickly passed when he announced he wanted to hear more, more often. Her cheeks burned just like the rest of her body did.

The next few minutes were kind of a blur as the pair rode out their orgasms to the fullest. Slowly but surely both their bodies settling to a still. Her fingers carded through the back of his hair as she attempted to slow down her heart rate and breathing. She didn’t dare look him in the eyes - not just yet, in fear her eyes would give away truth - truth that was anything but normal.

Literally, she could stay right here in this very spot with him the rest of the day and night and be perfectly content, but she also knew now more than ever she needed to calm herself and attempt to put a little space between them - at least for the time being.

Once her breathing finally settled and her heart rate slowed, her eyes opened and the reflection from the glass of the van doors confirmed her eyes to be normal. She pulled back just in time to catch his eyes and the question he asked of her. Her fingers tugged roughly but playfully in the back of his hair. Her lips placed a soft kiss to his lips before she responded.

“I don’t believe I heard any complaint from either of us,” she teased, and slowly…. very slowly lifted herself just enough to free themselves from each other - though she did sit back on his lap briefly. “You know at this rate we’re never going to make our tattoo date.”