#i am going to rip the shadow lords balls off

[uhzuku]

╰─▸ ❝ 𝐇𝐄’𝐋𝐋 𝐃𝐎 𝐀𝐍𝐘𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 ( 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐌𝐄 ). ❞ ──── 𝐟𝐭. 𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀.

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: His eyes are hooded, dark with a venomous lust that used to frighten you — but you aren’t the shy lamb sent to slaughter that you once were, are you?

𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦: jujutsu kaisen | 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: ryomen sukuna/f!reader | 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: nsfw ; minors dni | 𝐰/𝐜: 3.49k.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: concubine reader, demon king sukuna, sacrificial lamb x vicious monster trope, fem reader, manipulative reader, canon-typical violence, background character death, reader got a death grip on sukuna w the pussy ngl, breeding kink, fingering, sukuna has two cocks bc duh?, throne sex, cowgirl, no condoms, double penetration, accidental voyeurism, minor exhibitionism, creampies, biting, kissing, pregnancy mentions, murder, blood, gore, didn’t think i’d have to say this verbatim ( but after wasted summer ig i must ) but reader isn’t a good person.

𝐚 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐜𝐚𝐬: he is so so mean and yet … here i am wanting his balls in my mouth 😔✊

— 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐦𝐞 !!

The stone flooring is cold against your bare feet, icy and sharp in ways that you used to be able to say you were unused to — but after a handful of years as your lord’s most desired concubine, you’d grown more than used to the endless chill of stone against your soles. 

Only a few short years ago you’d been sent into the mountains to the dusky temple of the demon lord Ryomen Sukuna, a toy for him to fuck then eventually rip apart as soon as he grew bored of you. Bound by the wrists with ropes that had scarred, you were dragged up the mountainside and thrown upon a vast stone table, bound yet again with your hands tugged over your head and your legs spread to opposing corners. Your inner thighs had each been granted one deep slash so blood would begin to flow, and then you had been abandoned there. Alone and in tears, night had fallen faster than you’d been found, and you’d almost felt frozen and delirious when the first shadows of a monstrous figure had caught your eyes. 

He had been a terrifying monster, sporting a vast mouth on his abdomen, two sets of eyes, four arms, and two pairs of legs all connected to a towering frame — all things normally singular about the human form had been doubled, and the owner of such a body had slunk over to you all while salivating. At first you’d feared he’d molest you, then you feared being devoured — but he’d mocked you cruelly and cut you loose before dragging you along behind him by the rope binding your wrists with your slit thighs screaming, your journey ending with him casting you at a half dozen women you later learned to be his concubines, and you’d not left his great stone temple in the mountains ever since. On the contrary, your life had become much easier — you led a life of luxury nestled comfortably on your knees atop a plush pillow next to your lord’s hip, you followed wherever he led you to go, and you warmed his bed and his cock whenever he so chose — which was often. 

Today was one such day, and you desired nothing more than to ready yourself to see the man who clung to you as if he were starved and you were a magicked feast. 

“Off to see the King again?” one of the other concubines, Ino, asks snidely as you loosely drape chains of delicate gold over your skin, and you sigh. Ino always started fights whenever she saw the chance, and you were more than tired of it. Still, a verbal spar was nothing for the King to sneeze at, so he wouldn’t make any attempts to stop it; some days he even found the arguments amusing. 

“Must I really answer your question?” You ask tiredly. “He has called for me—“

“As he does every day,” another concubine, Shouko, snaps. “He never calls upon us anymore, not like you.”

“I didn’t ask for this,” you snap back, and in response the bane of your existence stomps forward, smelling of the honeysuckle and melons that grew along the mountainside where you all resided. 

“Maybe if you’d not come here and thrown yourself at him like a common whore, we wouldn’t be in this predicament,” Inko, Ino’s elder sister, snarls aggressively. Her eyes are dark and stormy, and her voice low and angry like a startled rattlesnake. “We all had a proper system before you came and ruined everything — but that’s all you know how to do, isn’t it? Traipsing in here practically naked from your first day and swallowing his cock down like it was what you were born for, then even daring to take away my night as well as Komori’s the following day.” Komori was another concubine, one nearly as bitter as Inko; she, however, chose to ruin what few of your belongings she could rather than spar with you verbally.

It was always the same with them — always angry that your lord doted on you more than the others, that he cooed at you so fondly while growls were occasionally sent their way ( growls you’d never received ), and that jewels and silks were lain reverently across your soft skin as rewards for earning his affections. “Maybe he likes me better for a reason, Inko,” you say coldly, standing your ground. “Maybe he isn’t calling upon you anymore because he’s realized how much of a surly bully you are — or maybe he’s grown tired of your once overused loose cunt.”

The sound of a  loud, harsh slap echoes through the room, followed immediately by startled gasps of shock and your face stinging painfully; as much as you all threw poisoned words through the air like arrows were loosed from an archer’s bow, none of you had ever dared lay a hand on one another. 

Your face burns, both from the pain from the hard slap and from a barely repressed anger, as you turn back from where it had been forcibly swung to the side at Inko’s strike to glare at her. 

“You’ll start being a lot happier with your life when you stop basing it around both mine and a man’s,” you hiss before exiting the makeup room and navigating your way through the halls of Lord Sukuna’s temple before finally entering the throne room. He was listening to a few servants of his describe the look of the lands outside the temple, and what they believed the upcoming winter would offer them, but he brushed them away upon realizing you’d entered. 

“Oh, my sweet treasure,” he purred warmly. “Come closer so I can bask in your beauty as I do every day.”

Obedient as always, you do just that, drifting closer before kneeling before him in acknowledgement of his power. Before you do so, you see the look in his eyes, and it sends a shot of fire to your stomach that you know all too well; his eyes are hooded, dark with a venomous lust that used to frighten you — but you aren’t the shy lamb sent to slaughter that you once were, are you?

“My lord Ryomen,” you murmur in a voice as thick and sweet as honey while just as deceptive as it would be when a part of a trap for flies. He stands, striding down the short set of stairs that led to his throne for you as he did for no other, and in a gruff voice commands you to stand at your full height. You do as told like always, and it doesn’t take long for him to catch sight of your aching face, which was no doubt starting to bruise.  

He gently grabs you by the jaw, careful that his claws do not prick your soft skin as he tilts your head to reveal your cheek to him. “Your beautiful face…” King Sukuna rumbles lowly, his voice an angered growl as he gently tips you by his grip on your jaw to look at the bruising handprint marring your face, and his eyes are as stormy as the sky outside of the temple as thunder booms amongst the clouds. “Who dared do this to you?”

“Inko,” you murmur quietly, then whine, “She called me a common whore and said I ruin everything. It hurt my feelings.”

“She will be punished,” he promises, cupping your face and kissing your forehead fondly in a show of slight sweetness that you knew he showed no other and strove to keep hidden at all times. Typically his words would comfort you, but not today. You were tired of Inko’s behavior, and a week locked alone in a room with nothing but bread and milk was no longer fitting in your eyes. 

You wanted her dead.  

“Fill me with your seed, my Lord,” you beg sweetly, and he groans while grabbing you borderline painfully tight and grinds your crotches together as you stand together in the throne room, allowing you to feel him at half-hardness. “I want to carry your spawn for you, just like you always say.” It was true; Demon King Ryomen Sukuna was a weak man when it came to his almost wicked thoughts of breeding one of his women’s fertile cunts, but he’d not yet filled any of his concubines’ wombs with life. That privilege, you knew, was to be yours alone — and with how desperately you knew he wanted it, you’d get your prize of Inko’s head on a golden plate and he would get his of the instinctual want for an heir before the week was up. 

You wrap your arms around his neck, standing as high on your tiptoes as you can to do so, and as usual he dips down so you can mouth sweetly at his skin, feeling one pair of arms rest at your hips while the other gently cup your face. “Let me ride you on your throne, my king,” you whisper sweetly, pulling your face from his hold and closing your teeth around one of his earlobes, tugging lightly. You both feel and hear the aroused growl leave his throat, and you move to nip at the base of his throat before asking again. “Please, beloved one?” you beg lightly, pressing a kiss to his jaw as he basks in the attention from your lips and your now wandering hands, which bury themselves in his hair in just the way he likes. “I want you to fill me in the way that only you will ever be able to. I desire the honor of bringing you life.”

You’re being dragged to his throne before you know it, your words plenty enough to tip him over any and all edges he had when it came to you, and he’s taking a seat and tugging you up onto his lap with a practiced ease that you both remembered all too well. He grinds his cock up into the crux of your thighs, his already hard length pressing against the place you were always bare for him beneath your skirts so perfectly. It only takes a moment for him to loose his cock from his robes, and even less time for him to press two of the fingers on one of his other three hands into your wet hole, the appendages curling just so inside so as to toy with you and prepare you for the vast stretch of one ( or even both ) of his cocks. 

“F-Fuck — M’Lord, there-!” You whimper shakily, hips bucking into his touch as he presses one callused thumb to your clit and begins drawing harsh circles on it in time with each curl of his fingers. 

“I know, sweet treasure, I know,” He murmurs softly. “I’ll take care of you — gotta get ya’ all nice and sloppy for me, dear one.”

“No more!” You whine impatiently. “Want you in me!”

His eyes are already dark, but they seem to darken even further at your senseless pleading. “As my foolish girl begs,” he says in mock-sweetness, pulling his fingers from your sopping cunt with a wet shlk! and beginning to use what you’d left on them to wet his cock rather than lick them clean like usual. Your heart ba-bump!s in your chest as a nervous shiver courses through you, but you don’t back down — you’d take his cocks and the resulting child of this coupling as well. 

“Oh gods — yes, please-!” you whimper, feeling the way he drags his cock against your slickened slit, and he chuckles lightly before pressing the fat head in. A stuttery gasp falls from your lips as your head does likewise to his shoulders, and you cling to him desperately as you begin to sink down onto him entirely. In what feels like forever ( but is really only a couple short seconds ) he’s fully sheathed inside of you, and you both still for a moment to soak in the feeling of both filling and being full — and the the Demon King decides the time to adjust is up, and begins fucking up into you. 

You bounce on his lap, moaning brazenly like a woman in a whorehouse, and your nails dig into his skin as he uses you like a toy for his own pleasure. Each drag of his thick cock inside you alights a fire in your belly as it always does, and you keen from your place on his lap as all four of his arms rove your body — two palming at your tits, one rubbing cruel circles on your swollen clit, and the third thrown around your waist. 

“Fuck… Fuck…” he moans, biting at your neck, and you whine needily while grinding down on him, trying your hardest to tempt him into forcing his second cock inside. Unfortunately, you doubted he would, considering he was always so cautious not to break his favorite toy ( you weren’t a fool, there was no love in his heart — there remained no heartstrings for you to tug on, only his sensitive cock. ), but seemingly today was an exception as a hand on one of your tits releases it just so he can grab his second length and press it against your sopping wet hole. The thick ring of cream around the base of the cock he’d already filled you with smears across his second as he urges the tip inside, a short scream falling from your lips as it pops in after a long moment of slightly-pained pressure. 

You’re overfull, tears are rolling down your cheeks, but Lord Sukuna just licks them up and begins using your body like the hole to fuck it is, bluncing you brutally on both of his cocks all while still seated on his massive throne. Behind you, you hear the wide doors to the throne room open, but it isn’t until a scandalized cry fills the room that you turn to look while your lord master continues fucking you without a care in the world for the eyes watching. 

“My Lord-? Oh gods, my apologies! I beg your forgiveness, my king!” The hand that had wandered in wails, falling to his knees in subservience at the realization that he’s just walked in on his lord taking his most favorite concubine in the throne room. The sight of both of his king’s cocks sinking so deeply into your glistening cunt had his own single cock twitching beneath his robes, but there was no way in hell he would ever dare to act on such a thing; the last time someone other than the king himself had touched a concubine with their unworthy hands, both had been torn apart in the King’s rage and fed to the carrion birds. 

“Fuck, you’re nothing but my sweet whore, aren’t you?” Sukuna groans deeply, ignoring the man entirely as you refocus entirely on him and the feelings he was forcing upon you. 

“Y-Yes, my king,” you moan shakily, your eyelashes fluttering as an ever-present knot starts to grow tighter in your lower belly alongside the overfull feeling, fueled by a heat that always burns in his presence.

“Cum on my cocks,” Sukuna orders through a moan. “Give it to me, I command you — I want to feel your cunt pulse around me as you come undone.” As he speaks he speeds up the circles he was drawing on your clit, and within moments you’re falling apart around him, crying out in ecstasy as he lets out a demonic roar and oresses himself as deeply inside as he can before emptying his balls. Faintly you register his eyes rolling back as he cums, but you’re too wrapped up in him to truly give a damn about any of it. 

After a few moments he begins to tug you off of his lengths, the muscles in your body just as instinctually unwilling to give them and their stretch up as you are as a natural resistance shows before being overtaken by you clenching down on him. “No,” you whimper, holding him tight. “Mine.”

“Y’gotta let me go, my precious jewel,” he rumbles quietly, and the urge to actually cry fills you and you just cling tighter. 

“No,” you say again, a fresh wave of tears stinging at your eyes. “Don’t wanna.”

A low groan falls from his lips, but he stops fighting you. You barely react as he lifts you, his inhuman strength making most any show of strength possible ( and making lifting you something easily scoffed at ), and you do likewise as he carries you off to his private chambers. A questioning noise falls from your half-chapped lips as he closes the massive open door of the two closed behind him, and he just shushes you before pulling the silk sheets and thick blankets and furs back before placing you on them. He’s straddling you, still stuck due to your clinging, and it takes a brief moment of wrestling with you before he manages to finally pull out. 

A borderline sickly wet noise fills both his and your ears as his cocks are drawn from your needy cunt, and the rush of thick demon cum that follows makes you whine pathetically. He just clicks his tongue at you and tugs on a rope made of golden chord that would ring a bell in one of the servant’s halls and summoned one such person, ordering them to ready your nightly meal ( despite the sun still being up ) so you could eat then sleep at your own leisure. Once the trembling man is gone, he joins you in bed. 

“I hope you meant your urging for me to grant you a child,” he purrs, biting at your shoulder while you press close to him. He pulls away, sitting up on the side of the bed, “Because there’s no going back now — you will carry my seed in your belly until you birth me a child.”

None of this matters to you. You had always planned to birth his first child, had always known that it was what your fate held for you — this moment was not for talk of a baby, no. You wanted your prize. 

“My dearest lord,” you sniffle needily, sliding from the bed on shaky legs and sinking to your knees between his legs, then propping yourself up over your crossed arms on them with a pout downturning your lips. A quickly growing puddle of his leaking cum begins to drip on the floor between your legs. “Please kill Inko — she’s so very mean to me, and all the other concubines are too because she’s been here so long.” Your bottom lip trembles as fresh tears start, and he sighs. 

“But her cunt is so sweet, dear one,” he murmurs, and you whimper and hide your face in one thick, muscled thigh. 

“You said she was loose. Besides, she hit me — I carry your spawn inside of me, and she hit me.” You didn’t have even his cum in you then, much less a conceived child — but you knew how to play the Demon King’s instincts, and the slight angered huff through his nostrils betray the rage simmering beneath his skin. All it would take was the tiniest push further. “It was the face this time, the face you own, but what if she pushes me down the stairs next? I could lose my life.”

Growling fills the air, and you know you've done it. 

“Rest here,” he says quietly, his voice shaking with rage, “Servants will be here to attend to you in a few minutes.”

He helps you up with one hand, half-tossing you onto the cushy bed, then begins making his way out of his private rooms. “Where are you going?” you call innocently, pushing a frightened tremor into your voice. “My lord Ryomen, please don’t leave me — I’m always so frightened without you!”

He stops in the middle of the room; you can see him shaking with anger. “I have business to attend to,” he says through gritted teeth. 

Your eyes glitter. “Come back to me soon, beloved one — I miss you desperately every moment you are away.” 

A grunt is your only response, and he exits the room as servants wheel in your dinner. You curl up prettily in his massive nest of a bed, and you peruse the options he’d granted you eagerly. When he was done, he’d use the excess rage to fuck you again — you’d need to quell what appetite you have now and then some if you wanted enough energy to survive. 

In the distance, furious roaring mixes with shrill, fearful screaming, and you delicately tug apart the roast duck you’d been served as the sounds of more concubines than just Inko being killed fills the temple. Servants cower, and the younger cupbearers whimper, but you just smile softly and hold out your emptied cup. 

“I would like more pear juice, please.”

𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 © { 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 } 𝐛𝐲 𝟒𝐈𝐙𝐀𝐖𝐀𝐒. 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐲, 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞, 𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭.

[biancasaidstfu]

Times like this, I choose to hang on to the facts we have at hand. Right now it is that both Nic and Luke still has exactly 1 post hidden in their Instagram.

Could be the S4 Polin selfie or selfie with Lord Ginger Baba Featherington or it could be the post that confirms Lukola without a shadow of a doubt. Fact is, it's a joint post between Nic and Luke that has been there for months! Both of them are there on each other's grids. Their tags contain Lukola shipper's posts too.

If Luke really was in a relationship with A, I would say the past year has been extremely disrespectful for her and it goes against everything that Nic's image is all about. It also goes against the doting boyfriend image of Luke that we have seen during his past relationships. It goes against what everyone says about Luke being the nicest and kindest person because how can one keep quiet with all the hate that is directed at his supposed "girlfriend"? He isn't dating A. His team had plenty of opportunities to confirm it and if it was true, it would have been less messier and even kinder to A to confirm it instead of saying he is "publicly single".

It's PR. They are only fooling themselves.

Interestingly I noticed that A's displayed post count is 44, but she only has 41 posts on her grid. I think those 3 'hidden' posts are her last posts that she can associate herself with Luke or in an ideal world, those 3 posts are model Collab posts of her's yet to be announced. I am going to start praying that it's bybarely related posts because I cannot handle another implied association with Luke when everyone knows it's all PR.

I am so exhausted from seeing this PR drama play out and I have been through Tomdaya fandom for years! It was never this messy from a PR side. I would rather go through the whole Zendaya and Tom dating other people than whatever this is. Atleast they were genuinely dating other people at one point. And then they broke it off with those people and didn't create a whole salsa with adjacents to fool the fandom. Tomdaya lore is deeeep, but it was never this obviously fake.

Sure, we has Zendaya call him a friend and whatnot. We already had it from Nic's side. It's a common thing when celebrities don't want to confirm their relationship. Fine. But everything else? Come on!

I know legal obligations are in place, but isn't the whole purpose of the legal obligations to ensure that it doesn't get messy like this? PR relationships are usually mutually beneficial which isn't the case here. If the obligations from Luke's side isn't fulfilled, then it might take years to have A satisfied. Lukola was headed towards a launch and then things all of a sudden changed. That indicates a renegotiation so why couldn't Luke's team negotiate better terms then? Better yet, why aren't they doing it now especially when the fandom is outright calling them out? People know it's BS. The only thing they are achieving is having Luke's reputation sacrificed. I think Luke's team in particular dropped the ball in this. Maybe everyone underestimated how things could get out of hand. I think Nic's team and Luke's team do not agree 100% on how to proceed. They need to be on the same page for this to work.

If the latest post was A going rogue, squat her like fly already. Use that as a leverage and just get out of the whole glaringly obvious situation. Hell, just pay her off or have faith in the fandom that they will not believe whatever accusations A comes up with following a Lukola launch.

Any divide between Luke and Nic's fan stems from the papgate. If they rip off the band-aid and launch their relationship, the fandom will protect them. Solo Nic fans and Solo Luke fans will defend them because majority of the fandom dislikes A. It might be messy initially, but it's already messy. Every time they misdirect, it is already messy. They are losing followers and their reputations are taking one hit after the other.

Most of bad that they think might happen most probably has already happened!

I am all for women not being identified simply as someone's girlfriend, but there is also power in being in a relationship. Their is power in finding love and having a stable, happy relationship. We do live in a misogynistic world, but there is power in a man stepping back and proudly cheering on his partner without being salty and insecure about it. Luke already does it. Nic is Luke's biggest supporter. She has protected him as much as she can without associating herself with him. A lot of the hate directed at Luke is because of his PR relationship. Nic and Luke can be power couples of the industry. They already are actually. Sure, most of it is in Polin context, but they are already stronger together than apart. Power couples are goals.

The world is already cynical enough. Luke and Nic doesn't have much to lose by launching their relationship, but they have a lot to lose by continuing this PR narrative.

Sorry for the rant. I just hate it when we are being treated as idiots by the whole PR shenanigans and it has gone long enough already.

We love a good rant around here anon ❤️

[tyril-simp]

KADE

[ramblesofajester]

whispers of a witch (chap1/?

this is just a self indulgent fic for me to write when I feel like shit and yes it will have nsfw

info: they/them, curvy body, glasses, anxiety.

The cool wind sweep past your cheek as you squat down, fingers numbing and turning blue from the constant foraging across the forest floor to fine the herbs you require, its late winter and you have just run out of several herbs you use quite frequently for personal use and when healing the villagers. of course as always there is a catch when you need to get something done. one, you where delivering a baby a good portion of the day, then doing your normal round with the villagers, so soon night is to fall, two the Lycians have been testing there luck with the village borders as of resent, three the only place those herbs are left growing are near Heisenberg's land due to you harvesting all the more accessible ones previously. and just to top it all of duke wouldn't be able to gather a shipment until the next new moon, that being two weeks away so here you are right before dusk cut plants with frozen fingers outside of a missive chain-link fence in the middle of the woods. Gazing around, you are in a small clearing, the village is about a mile, mile and a half to the south west of here. the factory's smoke stacks just visible over the tree line. Sighing you focus on the task at hand, slowly griping the base of the plant you say thanks to the earth and pull it up root and all, listening to the birds as there song slowly drifted thru the trees. standing up you, make your way over to the next bushel of plants emerging from the thin coat of snow. suddenly all the brides stop singing setting off of several alarms in your brain knowing its wasn't you who disturbed them wiping around, franticly looking you hear and see movement all around you just out of sight in the brush you cant tell what it is. assuming it to be Lycians or and angry bear or even a stray ghoul from the castle grounds. garbing the dagger from your boot you crouch down to an defensive position slowly making your way toward the path you came from. as you take a step back slowly a few Lycian emerge from the tree line teeth bared eyes holding a burning hunger. a soft gasp leaves your lips if there are this many you know more are soon to follow

"well shit, I couldn't just go and have an easy day now could I?" you ask the Lycians sarcastically not really expecting a reply. a deep chuckle caught you off guard and in your shock you hear the swift shifting of metal. the feeling of cold steel on your ankle stealing your attention from the fast change of gravity as you are hoisted into the air, dangling like a prized fish. attempting to regain your bearings. you look around seeing the Lycian pack now completely surrounding you.

"well, well, well, look what the cat dragged in," standing clear in the path arm outstretched to hold the chain around you feet taking a step further with every word.

"a lost little bunny, who is hoping around where they should not be..." he says in a little tune with mirth in his step. finally stopping right in front of you raising you so your face is level with his shoulders you reach out attempting to swipe at him with you dagger, as soon as you weapon is revealed is ripped from your grasp and now spinning around you and the lord. a large gloved hand grips your face forcing you to look at lord Heisenberg.

"now I cant tell if that was stupidity, or bravery little bunny but I'm guessing you dont know who I am." he speaks with amusement as he examines your face and, forces you to look at him. you stop squirming long enough to stare at the round shades perched on his nose. this being the first time you have seen the lord this close ,its usually only in passing or from the shadows as to not be noticed, but now you have to admit the stubble and scars, the cocky smile, the smell of oil, pine, smoke, and Tabaco is actually not that bad.

"No I know who you are, just really dont care cause I'm a little busy" you immediately wiggle from his grasp and start reaching for the chain around your ankles. a boisterous laughter is released from behind you and suddenly your falling about a meter, back connecting with the ground a large "oof" emanating from you. Rushing to get the chain from around you ankles it fly from your hands. jumping to your feet you face Heisenberg head held high

"oh... you do know me, so it must be stupidity, that must explain why your on my land as well" Heisenberg ponders aloud." so you must either be lost or have a death wish" he says with a chuckle

"nope not lost, just need some of the herbs here and if you live in this village and haven't runaway or offed yourself you have a death wish" you reply flatly brushing the dirt of of yourself as you stand to gather your things. "now" you say turning back to him "my dragger if you'd please" extending you hand cautiously with and expectants look.

"wow, you've got some balls on you" puffing on his cigar "you better watch that attituded bunny" you are suddenly painfully aware of the small pack of hunger Lycian circling you both "and remember who the man in control is" hand still outstretched you snap back with

"listen hear 'lord Heisenbitch' I am sorry for trespassing on you land but I need 7 different herbs and at least 5oz of each, I need them before tomorrow evening, some of them for mother Miranda, as well as a women who just gave birth in the village. Now unless you wish to explain to Miranda why her healer is missing, and her people dead due to illnesses I would like my dagger back and you and your fine fuzzy companions to kindly fuck of." you knew your words where dangerous but at this point in the evening you really didn't give a fling fuck and the shock on Heisenberg's face when he recognizes you almost made it worth it.

"Wait your Miranda's prized witch, oh man this is great, how have you lasted so long, your so small bunny" this just pissed you off more you want your dagger back but he's just so infuriating. your dont have time for this

"Fine, just keep the dagger" you say shoving past him. Growling at the Lycians blocking the path they stay there ground and growl back, only to glance behind you whimper, and slowly back away clearing the path. A chain roughly wraps around you waist spinning you around and pulling you flush against Heisenberg before returning to his trench coat pocket. blowing his smoke in your face he drawls

"wow wow wow, slow you roll peter cotton tail I ain't being stingy, I just wanna talk a little" as he says this he wraps his arm around you waist slipping your dagger back into its sheath leaving his hand to rest on the dip of your hip, the other griping your chin forcing you to look up at him

"Let. Me. Go!" you hiss out never braking your gaze of his glasses

"now what would Miranda think of this, her pet of the leash, not respecting or listening to your lord" he teases not lessening his grip at all

"I dont give a scraggly rats ass, just let me go you bastard!" you spit at him, resaving a chuckle as a reply .

"ohhh I like you bunny, you've got fight not a lot of that left hear any more. but I need something from you darling, so we are gonna take a little walk back to your place, your gonna help me, then ill help you with your little situation how does that sound there bunny?" spinning you around arm still securely on your waist, he starts to walk still puffing on his cigar, quickly you realize you have no choice in the matter. the Lycians slow start to follow you keeping there distance at about 3 meters back this continues for a wile and it might have even been pleasant having company for once on the walk, you if you ignore the hungry Lycians and the fear Heisenberg will get angry or be done with his little game. slowly the forest edge and the village come in to the distances well as a small well worn foot path leading into a thick pine forest near the base of the Benevento valley

"so bunny, which way is it" Heisenberg ask moving his arm up to rest on your shoulders using the other to jester at the path ways.

"This way" you mumble out, gesturing to the pine foot path. now moving forward on you own accord tiered of being user around like a lost child. you dont make it very far seeing as soon as you start to move away he tightens his grip

"ohh come on bunny, no need to get cold feet. your getting something good out of this too, you just chill a little there thumper" he says smirk never leaving his face.

"well it sure as hell dont feel like it, this feels more like a kidnaping only we are headed to my own dwelling" you watch as the pine trees grow thicker with every passing second drawing closer to your burrow. soon a large moon gate covered in rosemary and lavender comes into a view just beyond it several greenhouses small and large soft light emanating from a few

"Now hold up thumper if you have all of these, what were you doing traipsing around by my factory? you weren't trying to get my attention were you?" he jabs at you obviously trying to get a rise out of you.

"What I was looking for I do not grow because it is local and I had a store of some, but it a since been exhausted, lots of sick ones this season." you replied tiredly seeing as dusk has passed a wile ago and you had been called out well before day brake. now you where just too tired to deal with his shenanigans. continuing forward you approach the door and tap the center of the door with the old iron key handing from your neck three times then you insert it into the keyhole and twist it three times to the right and it slowly creeks open. rushing forwards in an attempt to put some distance between the two of you you start to tend to the fire stroking the coals and adding a few logs. while your bussing your self Heisenberg makes himself at home pulling out a chair and throwing his feet on top of the table and popping a new cigar between his lips . Turning to grab your tea pot you see this unfold waltzing over to him and slapping his feet of the table

"That is mahogany" as you say this he goes to protest " no 'lord' Heisenberg you in my domain now no feet on the table" you snatch the cigar from between his lip and toss it into the fireplace "and no smoking in the main room."

"alright, alright," he says holding his arms in the air "one you could have just put it out and handed it back thumper, and second of all watch who your talking to darlin" to this you quickly respond with

"Still dont care" he gives you grunt as a response

"third of all I still have yet to disclose the nature of my visit I need you to look at something for me" and with that he stands up his chest now centimeters from your nose he reaches for his hat and sunglasses setting them on the table, tossing his trench coat on to the chair. your face quickly turning a shade of red dark enough to rival the radishes out in garden as you realize just what he is doing. pulling of his shirt with a wince. Holding his shirt in his hands, you try not to make your gaze obvious, he slowly turns to reveal a large, deep laceration very poorly bandages and clearly in the throes of a terrible infection. you immediately push all other thoughts aside concern taking its place, you recognized this wound, you where present when he resaved it .

flashback

"you stupid man child, you know nothing you should just leave the talking to the adults like a good little boy"

"shut your dame hole you bitch"

they have been going at it for 37 minutes and counting Alcina said something Karl disagrees and so the back and forth begins about 5 minutes ago Karl brought out his hammer and been waving it out in the open. tensions have been rising and your a little worried it is about to get violent. Anggie who had been watching the argument from you lap starts to vibrate with joy sensing the approaching violence.

"ooooooooohhh its aaboutttttt tooo get goooooodddddd!!!" she sings while hoping off your lap to sit closer on donnas lap seeing as you are perched by the back wall behind Miranda. and just as you both had predicted disaster struck.

"you insolent fool." Alcina suddenly cry's, swiping her hand forward as Karl turns his back to her slashing from shoulder to hip. you immediately rush forward, only to be stopped by mother Miranda holding her arm in your path.

"ENOUGH, stop the foolishness NOW!" Miranda's voice ringing out clear through the entire hall "Heisenberg my son, stand," she demands. he slowly makes his way to his feet now facing mother Miranda "your actions have been stupid and reckless as punishment, I shall leave you with this burden to care for. maybe it will teach you how much effort it takes heal rather than destroy. and what if feels like to live with ones mistakes." you hand covers your mouth as you bite your tongue. you may not like Karl that much but he still is not as bad as they say.

end scene

"BY THE GODS, how has this not healed yet!? have you been rubbing dirt in it? I knew this was a stupid lesson. I knew I should have gone against that two faced, false goddess, pretensive ass, bitch and marched my happy ass to that factor. THAT WAS TWO WEEKS AGO, this should have been gone ages ago!!!" you shout while carefully examining the laceration. quickly you pull out the char he was previously siting on out, so he could sit on it with his back to the fire and lean on the back of the chair. grabbing Heisenberg's shoulders you gently shove him into the chair. rushing around you grab several herbs hanging from the ceiling in bundles. then over to the counter you produce a mortar and pestle along with several oils and extracts

"woooow, thumper slow down, slow down," he chides calmly garbing your shoulders, your arms still packed full of items. slowly he starts to set the items on the table. "now I didn't rub dirt in it, but there might be some oil, its not healed because I have no idea how to treat a wound this large. and what's this about Miranda being a bitch and ignoring orders?" as he says this you realized just how bad you have fucked up.

"OH MY GODS, I didn't mean a word of it lord Heisenberg I meant no disrespect please I am so sorry dont tell mother Miran-" you franticly bow keeping your eyes to the floor hoping he would ether spare you make you death quick. while he clearly doesn't like Miranda or her family he was still a part of it.

"hay hay hay thumper calm down your alright. I'm not gonna go all psycho on you, and your secret is safe with me, your not the only one with unsavory views on that bitch Miranda." your slowly look up at him in shock it is widely know that he disagree with the other lords but this is a first. you gingerly make your way over to the table and start to mix together several herbs and flowers. "and thumper just call me Karl" he says with a flirtatious grin, you blush but grinding the herbs into a powder

"only if you stop calling me thumper." slowly adding some drops of oils to the mixture making a thick green salve.

"well I gotta have something to call you bunny" he say grin stretching across his face as you blush even more now

"well my name is (Y/N) ok, now stop" you say while puffing up you cheek in a pout. rushing behind him so he can no longer see your face and you can apply the salve" this is going to sting" not give him tome to proses any thing you said you rip off the bandages and start to carefully apply the salve. a shout bubbles up in his throat the second the salve touches his shoulder

"SON OF A Bitch..." he snarls" maybe a little more warning next time y/n" as soon as he growls out your name you short circuit you hand no simply resting next to his wound "y/n... y/n" he waits a couple of seconds before trying again. "y/n!" jumping a little you come back to reality " you all good back there" Karl questions

"almost done just need to finish this up, then I will apply bandages, and all you need to do is rest for a day or two" as you Finnish saying this you reach for he bandages and gently begin to properly wrap the wound "this is how you properly wrap a wound Karl" you make sure to say first his name. "go all the way around and over and around the shoulder" slowly and carefully placing the bandages showing him the movements and positions. you move around to the front of lightly wrapping his shoulder "dont go to tight when bandaging joints, it increases mobility but not lose enough to move" as you speak solely focused on you task at hand you dont see Karl staring at your face, a look of adoration on his face which he is quick to drop once you turn to him. gently patting his shoulder "now all you need is a lot of rest and a hot meal" smiling you slowly make your way over to the fire removing the teapot and hanging a medium sized cauldron over the fire. turning kettle in hand you see Karl putting on his hat and going to pull his coat on having already put his shirt on

"well thumper its been wonderful but I have to get back to my-" you cut him off taking his coat and hanging it by the door.

"oh no you don't, you need rest and real food, and not to make any assumptions but I doubt you'll get any of those in your factory" as you say this you put the chair back in its normal position swiftly going to a small spare room on the side. grabbing a thick blanket you walk to the table, and drape it over the back of the chair. patting it flat you open your arms and jester to the chair "now please have a seat food will be done shortly" you say with a smile as he just stand there slack jawed at you attempting to boss him around. slowly he take a seat and just watches as you prepare a cup of tea for you both "hear this should help with the pain" you say handing him a large mug that still looked too small in his hand. you turn and head back to the counter and start dicing us vegetables and some fish to put the cauldron.

"thank you" he mumbles quietly watching you dance about the kitchen a soft smile on his face. "so what's your story? you obviously dont like Miranda so why stay and be her little pet healer on her beck and call." Karl jests wanting to know more about you now that he has the chance with out his stupid family there

"well a long time ago I has someone I had to look out for, they needed help I could not provide it, Miranda could. So I made a deal, help her, and ill do as wish. So I comply to keep her safe and happy, if it went for her, I would have sent that false deity to her flaming grave decades ago." you finished cutting the veggies and meat depositing it in the pot, you make your way opposite of Karl at the table and take a seat. slowly sipping your tea. "now I just tend to the villagers for Miranda and visit my belladonna"

"wait who is belladonna" he askes a look of confusion overtaking his features

"my apologies, I mean donna, before Miranda adopted her and gave her her gift she was a sad and lonely child with parents too ill to save, so after her parents passing, I watched over her and loved her as my own" you say a soft smile on your face looking around the room I was the only one she let touch Anggie, she was such a kind child asking so many questions behind closed doors and always eager to learn new skills" you reminisce the old days setting your now empty cup on the table. "but now she's grown and well, and happy, so that is all that matters" you say curtly standing and heading over the the bubbling pot of stew and giving it a stir.

"so wait your telling me you the witch who raised Benevento," Karl spouts astonishment clear in his voice. "One how are you not dead yet? Two that's why you spend so much time in that spooky ass house, and three how come you aren't an old hag you dont look a day over 25?" even in shock this man some how still manages to throw in a flirt. you give a small chuckle.

"well when I struck my deal with Miranda," you make you way over to a tall cabinet and withdraw two wooden bowls and a large ladle ." donna was just become a young adult, so she new what excepting Miranda's gift would entitle, including the prolonged life." returning to the stew and scooping a hefty serving into Karl's bowl and only filling your half way. "after her parents suicided she couldn't handle the loss another parental figure, her words not mine, she refused the treatment unless Miranda changed me as well." hanging the ladle on the wall and carefully turning back to Karl and making your way to him. "I had already had my go at life and helped as many as I could so I agreed not expecting to come out alive," you say calmly sitting down in the seat acres from Karl. "unfortunately my will was to strong so hear I am now, a fail experiment serving out my end of the deal" you give a sarcastic smile and do a little jazz hands as your story comes to a close. Karl is still for moment then burst into a deep laughter, but still alarmed at your willingness to except death.

"I'm sorry bunny I dont mean to be insensitive," he attempts to suppress his chuckles. "you are really the one that raised donna?"

"yes I am I know its a little hard to believe, but yes." you say solemnly feeling a little weird everyone who knew you too be donnas nanny have long since passed.

"no no no, there ain't nothing wrong with that darlin! In fact you did fucking awesome, out of all of us monsters she has the best manners and turned out the best." he says in a panicked tone, afraid he has said something wrong.

"Karl none of you are monsters, and your ok you didn't say anything wrong" you say quickly adding " none of you are monsters! you and the other were forced into the experiments, unlike donna and I. your only a monster when you subject an enter village to a false religion just to slaughter them for her experiments under the name of a sick false family she has not love for!" you say venom and hate for that hag dripping from each word. a stern but caring look on your face as you look rights in his eyes as you say this "you aren't a monster. you where a kid with out a choice, and now you are a man surviving and your doing amazing in your situation." you cautiously grab his hand resting in the table " you are not a monster no mater who has told you that including your self" He pulls back lightly but does not remove your hand from his., allowing you to rub his knuckles.

"but I-" he starts but you dont let him continue

"nope you cant convince me other wise, I'm the village crazy witch I am all knowing and wise." you say in a cherry tone, garbing his hand with both of yours. using one to tap out a small tune on the back of his hand. that nice deep laughter made an appearance again you have to admit its nice to hear him laugh instead of ague with everyone.

"well dame bunny, can't argue with that logic now can I " A large toothy grin takes over his face little crinkles show at the corners of his eyes. shaking his head he gives a chuckle then picks up the bowl of stew and finishing what was left in the bowl in a few gulps. setting the bowl down he asks "shit that hit the spot, can I just take you home with me and have you cook for me every night that some dame good stew" he jokes. laughing a little you finish your bowl, garbing his you stand and bring them to a bucket at the end of the sink.

"no I cant come home with you every day" rinsing the plates before setting them in the bucket you continue. "but you can come over when ever the lantern on the porch is light, if its not I am either in the village with a patient, or visiting donna or Miranda, or foraging. I am a busy witch Karl, just a warning." he chuckles

"ill make a note of that expect me often that shits good." he says pointing at the pot hanging over the small flames.

"well in that case ill put some in jars so you can take it with you when you leave tomorrow" you say off handedly while making your way over to the pot fishing the leftovers out, and putting it in two large mason jars. out of the corner of your eye you see him deflate a little when you when you mention his departure tomorrow. moving over to a wall of cupboard you store the two jars "to night you can take my bed or the cot in the guest room, though I dont know if you'll fit" you say walking over to said door and opening it reveling a small room with a vanity in the back left corner to the left of the door was a small sink and counter with a basin next to it. opposite to that was a small cabinet and in the back right corner a small wooden cot about half the side of the man now standing directly behind you in the doorway. so close, when he took a deep breath you could feel his shirt brush your, and his warm breath fans across your neck. now with bright red face you make you hastily make you way to the cabinet to the right of the door and start to grab a large quilt and a pillow or two. Karl enters the room looking around taking in the new environment and casually making his way over to the cot and taking a seat. you head over to him staring at the blanket hoping that he would not see your face

"thank you, y/n you really could've just sent my packing I really appreciate it I do" he says with a soft smile resting on his scared face, 'it suites him,' you think to your self 'he should smile more.'

"well hear you go this should be think enough it gets pretty chilly in hear and I haven't fixed the heater yet so if you need more there are some in the cabinet you say gesturing to the cabinet with your head. holding the blanket and pillow out for him to take he reaches hands grazing against yours as he takes them from your hands pulling them closer"

"thanks bunny I re-" he is abruptly cut short by a sharp wine of wood under duress followed quickly by a loud snap of the cot braking a the loud thud of Karl's ass hitting the floor. "OH FUCK" Karl was now the one looking up at you. slapping a hand over your mouth to suppress the laughter about to burst from you.

"OH by the gods, are you ok" you say still trying to hold back the onslaught of giggles offering a hand for him to take

"so this is what the weather is like down here" he says jokingly as you hoist him off the ground carful of his shoulder and back. gently slapping his chest

"I'm only a little shorter than you, ya know" you say "but in light of me needing to purchase a new cot from duke, I guess you'll be sleeping in my bed tonight." he gives you a flirty look

"dame thumper if you wanted me in your bed that bad all you had to do was ask not buries my ass first" he says with a deep chuckle.

"I am not tying to get you in my bed" you say panicked face exploding with red. "I wont even be in it with you, and secondly it wasn't that far of a drop so the only thing damage was you ego and my cot obviously. now come follow me please." you say now attempting to lead him out of the room. Karl looks at you as if he was trying to figure something but soon trailing behind you like a lost puppy. you lead him through the main room down a hallway with three doors heading to the furthest down you push open the heavy wooden door. letting Karl enter first you make your way to the bed garbing your favorite pillow and a thick blanket off the bed spread "well she's all yours" you say jokingly waving your arm over the bed as a invitation dont lay on your back or shoulder" you say making your way back to the door arms now full "sleep well." and with at you turn to leave only to be stopped by a hand on your shoulder.

"wait if I'm sleeping here and I just demolished your spare bed where will you be sleeping" he ask concern lacing his voice a he turn you around to face him

"well ill go clean up the old cot and then ill just use some spare blankets as a mattress for the night." you say with out a second thought.

"no no no, I will not let you do that you have done enough for me. I'll just go back to my factory and be out of your hair." your face scrunches up.

"you say that as if I am annoyed by you, but I can assure you, you do not annoy me. next I wont let you leave this hut you need to rest and I need to change those bandages as soon as you wake." you say no room for argument evident in your voice. "and if you have such an issue using my bed but I apologies its the only one, and I wont let you sleep on the floor with that wound." you with finality.

"then I guess well just have too share it. cues I will just jump through a window to go back home" he say with a laugh. you have no idea if he was joking or not. still, gazing up at his face the smirk remained "so" he asks "which will it be will you join me or and I gonna have to practice my long distance sprint." you sigh growing tired with every passing second your long day finally catching up too you. no longer having any energy to argue.

"fine" you huff out walking over to the bed where Karl was I like the right side" climbing in you take a body pillow from the back of the bed putting it in the middle " you better stay on your half of the bed old man" you say climbing back down from the bed and heading a dresser under a large window. you produce a pair of sleep thin pants and a large think white long sleeved shirt. "I need to change so ether steep out or just dont look." to tired to care at this point you look over your shoulder and see him turned away from you sitting on the left side of the bed. replacing your dirty clothe with fresh sleep pants and a oversized top. garbing a spare pair of large sleep pants and shirt before making your way back to the bed, flopping onto it comically ,while tossing the change of clothing on his side of the bed "hear you go, this should fit" he looks down at the articles of clothing.

"well thank you bunny," undoing his belt and changing his pant, completely ignoring the new shirt. "but uhhh I dont think that shirt is gonna work though" he says smirk evident in his voice.

"and why would that be-" you ask confusion clear on you face as you roll over to face him without thinking. face exploding in color as you freeze up, now staring at his bare chest brain loosing any train of thought.

"my eyes are up hear now bunny," he says with a deep chuckle "but please dont let me interrupt your staring. as for why I never sleep with one its confining" smirk never leaving his face, as he lays down on his half of the mattress. quickly you roll over

"I wasn't staring, I zoned out. Just toss the shirt on to the top of the dresser" he gives another chuckle but says nothing. pulling the thick comforter up to you chin due to the chill, reaching over you turn the knob on the lantern smothering the flame. "good night Karl sleep well" you say without a second thought closing your eyes slowly, reality fading out as you hear Karl

"goodnight thumper sleep well" a gentleness to his tone that sends the rest of the way to sleep.

word count: 5884

ps: please forgive my horrid grammar

[anakinisvaderisanakin]

Don’t Pray (aka Vader is the menace he was always meant to be during ‘the Purge’ oneshot)

“I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me,” the padawan whispered quietly; eyes squeezed tightly shut to block out the world.

The only sound was that of his own hammering heartbeats, hands clasped in a desperate prayer as he kept his head low; curled up in a tight ball with his legs to his chest in the cramped stowaway space behind the ventilator of his former master’s beat up space vessel. When he had docked on Illuna, he had expected the possible company of fellow runaway Jedi apprentices. Instead, he found the embrace of the Dark Side.

The presence that had greeted him so graciously was still palpable, still drawing ever nearer. The dark it brought with it like a sickness, like a plague shutting out any connections to the untainted living Force. Consuming its flame. The light flickering before the tendrils of darkness snuffed it out; successfully smothering it. Swallowing hard; a faint noise penetrated through the steady pulse ringing in his ears.

Artificial, mechanical. Periodic breathing. In, and out.

He felt like a caged animal; trapped as bait; prey left out for the predator approaching. He had been fooled, and now he was paying with his life. Naive, in his desire for company - his longing to be alone no more. He crept further back against the durasteel confines, his side pressed to the outer wall. As far from the tiny hatch to the hidden crawlspace as possible, making himself impossibly small.

Once again, he hoped to reach out with his mind; for help or guidance, he wouldn’t know. Yet, the only thing he could sense as a potential response was the thrumming of that inescapable darkness; an empty void of agony, threatening to grab hold of him and drag him asunder if he failed to stay alert. He toed the line, standing just at the threshold. Just shy of allowing the ill intent to devour him.

The padawan had been under the care of the Jedi Order on Coruscant for as long as he could remember, had been a promising padawan as his master had proudly proclaimed many times. It seemed like a lifetime ago. As if the happy days were but the fading remnants of a fever dream, as if the Empire and its rule was all there had ever been. 

The Empire, and Vader.

Every Jedi he knew was either dead, captured, or lost. Missing without a trace. In hiding, some said. Perished, others whispered. At the hand of Vader, was the common consensus among fast travelling underground sources. The padawan had tried his best to hide, to keep out of sight, to cover up his tracks. For three years, he had been successful. For three years, he had managed to avoid the Jedi killer, and the relentlessness with which the Empire seemed to hunt down and destroy Force users. Align, disappear or die.

He was running out of time.

“I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me,” he mouthed wordlessly, desperate to mask his hitching breaths and half sobs.

It was freezing.

He remembered the ice cold desert nights, accompanying his master on a week long endeavour hunting for a ancient Jedi artifact. Where had it taken them? Tatooine? Jakku? Geonosis? He couldn’t remember, every desert planet looked the same. Only endless sand dunes, and blistering blood red sun come day. Only starry deep blue skies, and cold nipping at any exposed skin come night.

He’d never forgotten the numbness of his fingers, his breath coming in heated puffs of condensation. He’d never forgotten the uncomfortable prickle of his skin, the chill of his weary, aching bones. How it seeped so deep into his core, that not even the scalding heat of first sunlight promising fire and brimstone could dissolve it.

The breathing.

Steady.

The predator toying with its prey, like a rancor enjoying the chase and dragging it out before pouncing and going in for the kill. Vader must know where he was hidden, must be able to sense his tangible Force signature. His terror.

The paralyzing feeling of torment Vader’s aura radiated rolled off of the man in thick waves; like the tide coming in, like the eye of the storm. Without mercy, without pardon. A force of nature, uncontrollable, unstoppable. Hands trembling, the padawan pressed them to his lips as he continued to mouth the same payer like mantra.

It would be in vain, yet it was the only link that remained to his master. The woman who had been gunned down in cold blood by her own troops, sending him off in a solitary escape pod towards fates unknown before sacrificing herself. She’d taught him the prayer, something to cling to in times of need. In times of fear, of hopelessness. He remembered her gentle brown eyes, her warm smile.

Footsteps.

Heavy, booted footfalls against the durasteel floor. Stalking in a slow, deliberate manner. The temperature seemed to drop for each one, as death traveled on swift wings ever faster.

The padawan could feel the stinging heat of salty tears behind his eyes, could feel them welling up at the corners of his eyes. Could taste their salt, smell his own fear. Shame accompanied the terror. His master’s act of self sacrifice had landed him stranded on an outer rim scrap station, only vaguely directed towards hostile but life sustaining planets where more Jedi may be in hiding; aided by a good natured sympathizer. Planets he’d never even heard of. People whose faces he would never know again, whose faces he had already forfotten as they blurred together. He had found none, no one to help him. No one to guide him, no one to come to his rescue now. He was alone, and he would die alone.

Only then did it truly sink in that he wasn’t going to leave this ship alive.

“I can sense you, child.”

A deep, booming voice.

Filtered through a vocabulator, it came off eerie and uncanny. Devoid of any scrap of human emotion; monotone and matter of fact. Loud, direct, and frank. Short and concise. How many others like him had met such a fate, the padawan wondered. How many others had perished at the hand of Vader? How many more would there be? Were there even any Force wielders left in the Galaxy for Vader to sniff out and execute? The age of the order was gone, why keep exterminating the few stragglers left behind? They could do no harm, make little noise.

“I can sense your fear,” the voice added after a moment's pause; and despite the same inhuman diction, there seemed to be something spiteful to the words.

The padawan had never known evil.

He and his master had taken down wild beasts, droid armies; they had even faced off against a stray misled Dark Side user. The droids had been man made machines, little more than gun fodder. The animals had followed only their hunger and ravenous nature, desperate to eat or be eaten. Lylacs, loth-wolves, rancors engineered to hunt. The Dark Side user had been conflicted, led astray by corrupt practices, as his master had put it.

This was different.

Vader appeared to be content, in a sense. No, perhaps not quite content as there seemed to be little joy or excitement to find in his Force signature. It was empty, a nothingness. Like a hole in the fabric of the Force itself, like someone had cut a piece out of a tapestry where only cold, and suffering could prevail.

Suffering; so unadulterated that it made the padawan’s body flinch and twitch with its shared torment. Vader was like a phantom, like a wraith; like a dead man walking. His aura revealed that he had nothing to lose, nothing to gain. No compassion, no forgiveness. No use in pleading, no use in begging.

A tear escaped the corner of the padawan’s eyes, rolling red hot down his stricken, pale face. The suffocating feeling of Vader’s presence sucked the air out of his lungs, making him feel lightheaded and short of breath. The steps slowed, calculating their path meticulously until they came to a sudden halt mere inches away from the trapdoor and its hatch. There came a protesting creaking of durasteel, of metal giving way to an unseen, powerful hand. A metallic shriek, a cringe and a whine as it began to bend to Vader’s will. The first beams of bright, fluorescent lights spilled in flickering patterns through the cracks torn open before the trapdoor was unceremoniously ripped off its hinges and flung across the cramped space of the vessel’s interior.

The padawan daredn’t open his eyes - the mechanic breathing was no longer muffled by  a thin wall of durasteel; the thick aura of the Dark Side crashing over him like, biting and stinging at his nerve endings. Drowning him, as they left him overwhelmed, vulnerable and pitiful.

It hurt to breathe; hurt to think, his stomach churning and his throat constricting no matter how much air he attempted to gulp down. His lips moved on autopilot, still wording that same pathetic prayer but his voice had long since been silenced. There was no one to save him. No one to take his hand.

The tendrils of a twisted, warped, subjugated shadow of the Force the padawan knew as his ally burnt as they pierced his skin; invisible but unyielding. Like a million icy daggers, like sharp needles or broken glass. Another warm tear fell from his eyes, this time leaving a searing trail in its wake against his frost bitten cheek. He trembled when it dripped off his chin.

“You cannot hide from me, child. Your path ends here. There is no escape,” said the voice, so void of sympathy and remorse that it seemed inconceivable.

Were it not for the Dark Side, and the tainted, perverted use of the Force that Vader was guilty of; the padawan would have thought him to be fully inhuman. Rumours said Vader was once a man, now cloaked in a tar black suit of armour. Some said Vader was the creation of a malicious Sith Lord, calling upon mystical powers to build the perfect, loyal servant. Others said Vader may have once been a Jedi; a Jedi who’d fallen to the Dark Side in pursuit of power, and riches. How could a figure whose very existence seemed to serve as a harbringer of death ever have been live? How could a presence such as Vader’s ever have belonged to anything but a ruthless monster?

The padawan’s master had called many animals and creatures ‘monsters’. Some would deem Vader a savage beast, desperate for blood to quench his own thirst while they cowered in fear at the very whisper of his name. As if acknowledging his existence might conjure him. Yet, an animal would only follow its own basal needs and instincts; like the krayt dragons, or the lylaks, or the rancors. They were not monsters, they were simply part of the natural order. Predators necessary in a symbiotic cycle with their prey. Likening them to Vader was no fair comparison. Vader was sentient, aware of his actions, and committing heinous acts nonetheless. Purposefully, knowingly.

Animals were no monsters.

Vader was.

His eyes were still stubbornly clenched shut, perhaps seized up with terror as the frightened padawan cowered.

Still, they began to twitch little by little, opening as if that unseen hand guided by the Force was prying them open bit by bit. As if they were being peeled back, his resolute power of will beginning to wane. The padawan desperately attempted to keep them closed, to fight back. It was futile, as his watery eyes were uncovered against his will. Unable to blink, unable to stay blissfully unaware of the exterior that accompanied the foreboding phantom. His executioner. 

In a snapping, jerking motion - the boy’s head was rapidly twisted sideways by the same invisible pull. The hold on his lithe, malnourished body was so strong, that the motion tossed him like a rag-doll as he was yanked out of the tiny crawlspace. He cried out in pain when his knee was torn open, by the jutting edges of one of the ventilator system’s metallic fans. Warm blood wet through the fabric of the padawan’s pants, the tang of iron stinging in his nostrils. Nauseating.

Tumbling haphazardly across the narrow walkway, the padawan whimpered as he momentum had him rolling around until he slammed forcibly into nearest cabinet. A nightmare come to life, he wrapped his uncooperative arms around himself to shield himself from the bitter cold, from the hatred, the rage, the ire. 

It did him no favours, the sharp pinpoints and tendrils of the Dark Side burrowing into his chest like the fangs of a loth-wolf. Despite the struggle, the padawan found himself crawling to his knees, ignoring the searing pain of his gashed knee as if compelled to do so by some sort of beckon, taunting and mesmerizing in its lethal promise. For a brief moment, he thought he could hear his master’s familiar voice calling him.

The abyss lay ahead.

“I am one with the Force, and the Force is with me,” the padawan croaked in a broken act of defiance.

“Your prayers are of no use.”

Then, he raised his head and his glassy eyes were set upon Vader. Frozen in place, as if fixed by the phantom’s own stare concealed behind the lenses of a black mask. Death in the flesh. Unkind. Unjust. Promising pain everlasting, overpowering.

Overwhelming, unbearable.

Inevitable.

[rosecolouredmind]

Savior

Nicholas Scratch x Reader

The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina

Part Two:

The Morningstar

For a moment, you panicked.

You were in an unfamiliar place and everything was the color of blood. As if the chilling red wasn’t enough, there was an uncomfortable cold seeping into your skin, like bugs needling their way into your pores. Everything felt...wrong. You felt your body getting smaller and the space around you getting larger, daunting. A persistent, grating ringing in your ears was making your head throb; the crown of your head to the bottom of your toes, a...feeling. A wrong feeling. Your head, your chest, your bellybutton; discomfort clenched tight and refused to let you go, but it was deeper than that. This atmosphere, this place. The screaming red, the screaming silence, the screaming sounds. Hopelessness. Despair. Doom. You can’t do this.

You can’t do this.

Your senses were going haywire as you tried to find your bearing, crashing to your knees in a dry heave. Your chest felt as if it was caving in, your tears twinkling like raindrops on their way down. You can’t do this, why did they send you here? Why did it feel like this? A gasp, a clutch of the chest, and a desperate look up --

And there he was.

Your eyes landed on a figure a few feet in front of you, studying you in surprise and interest. His appearance was handsome, but his bearing—

He stood as if he stood before the world, lying beneath his feet. He emitted a dark dominance, a dark arrogance, all-encompassing. It was encompassing you as it encompassed the world, it seemed; and deeper, an inherent cruelty you’d never want to experience beckoning beneath the darkened irises staring at you. He began rotating around you, his figure seeming to blend into the lengthened shadows, towering over you. You felt like a prey animal surrounded by not just one, but a pack of violent predators stalking you just behind the darkness. Eyes glued to your trembling figure, searching for the best way to devour it.

You were terrified.

“And who might you be?” he drawled, circling you.

Your heart would have just about fallen out of your chest if it were possible, a startled gasp ripping from your throat. Your breath began to quicken, sharp inhalations through your nose causing you to go lightheaded. You were completely lost, you lost your thoughts, you lost your senses, you lost your damn mind coming here --

“Answer me girl,” a sharp demand pierced the air. Your body began to tremble as you started to mutter.

Fate is with me.

Fate is with me.

You nearly cracked under the pressure, the rising pressure;

Yes, for a moment, you panicked.

But then you started to focus on your core, the small area of your body where your fate lies within you. Stelas carried their fate, their star, with them at all times. It was inherently a part of them, and like destined, it began to help you now.

“GIRL.”

You slowly began to circulate your energies, every rotation lessening the burden placed on your body by another fold.

You felt as if you could breathe again.

“I am Fate coming to warn you,” you breathed. You took your time rising to your feet, and by the time you came to your full height you were back to yourself again. Your powerful, fates-blessed self.

And you were here to fulfill your destiny.

“I, Stela (Y/n), consular of the fates, have come to take control of my domain, Lucifer Morningstar. And that begins with you.”

For a moment, the man just gaped at you. Then, a booming laugh rumbled through his body as he threw his head back, the shadows dancing around flaring up with the rise of his voice, reminiscent of hellfire.

How fitting, your eyes could have rolled right out of your head.

“Fate? What does fate have to do with me? And of all things, it comes to me in the form of some weak little girl?” he sneered.

Any intimidating effect Lucifer had had gone out the window the moment you clocked the irritatingly childish lilt in the man’s voice.

“Not even God himself could control me, let alone you dastardly little “fate” slaves.”

The man is a child.

Biting back the urge to comment on his little jab at your occupation, you continued along your explanation.

“I don’t know what you did, or how you did it, but you have a fated star now, Morningstar. You have a soul. That means Fate has officially locked onto you, whether you like it or not. This is causing problems, you are causing problems. And it is my job to fix it,” you replied firmly.

“You are clearly mistaken, there’s no possible way for the fates to contain me or my existence. I am simply above all! I am Lucifer Morningstar!”

“Is that what you’d like to name your very real star of fate, then? The Morningstar? It would only be proper,” you mocked. The aghast look on his face had you sniggering, the now chaotic strands of shadows that were twirling about wildly behind Lucifer amusing you greatly.

“You dare mock me, you filthy little girl?”

The rage in his voice was clear, but that only made you even more certain that Earth’s resident dark lord had even less maturity than you did, and that was saying something.

He continued to bellow and whoop at you for a good minute, unable to get closer due to your conflicting energies.

Earth had now become your domain, after all, so even after just arriving you were able to exert a small amount of influence.

But at some point, his rage had melted into stone cold fury, and you were reminded of why the man in front of you had earned the title of the Devil himself. He threw a mean tantrum when he wanted to, and you felt a small bit of that fear from earlier seeping into you again.

“No.” he hissed, his form warping above you, the beautiful face he displayed earlier having been replaced with the head of a goat. The Baphomet, you realized. The conceptualization of his status here on Earth, and your reminder that this man is still a celestial, and this situation is not normal.

This man, this being represented everything it meant to not have a soul.

“I am the Dark Lord! Satan, the DEVIL; your kind shall have NO control over me!” he spat viciously, the rank saliva sputtering from his mouth and spattering onto your face. The goat head was grotesque, his figure was grotesque, the surroundings grotesque. Lucifer was truly angry, and you felt it was about time to calm down the situation.

You close your eyes for a moment, reminding yourself of who you are and why you are here. The very existence of Lucifer’s should be nonexistent soul was why you were sent here, meant to commune with Satan himself. A figure you’d only heard nightmares about, stuff of fiction as far as you’d been concerned. Earth was a fairytale to you and should have stayed as one, and yet now you were here.

As a celestial, it should have normally been impossible for the fates to grasp his tangible sould, yet here he was. And as somewhere chock full of them, Earth should have been impossible for the Constellation Map to grasp and assign, yet here you were.

Fate was truly cruel at times indeed.

“How about we figure out how this happened then? This situation is clearly not working out for either of us,” you finally suggested. “You are the Devil. But where has the Devil found himself a soul?”

As curses were rained down upon you, it took you a few moments to realized that they weren’t directed at you, but at someone else. The current bane of Lucifer’s existence, and according to him, the real cause of all of this, the —

“Fucking witches! Traitors, all of them! They dared to defy their god and trap me here; those bitches! I’ll kill them all!” the ungodly screeching continued as you stared dumbly for a moment, your brows furrowing.

“Trap? This isn’t hell?”

The deeply offended look on the man’s face said all you needed to know, the interruption clearly not welcome and apparently very off mark.

“Of course it isn’t, you bloody idiot! This is merely the mindscape of the poor fool they stuck me in here with; I’ve only merely tampered with it. My underworld is much more impressive and intimidating.”

Despite the childish delivery, you couldn’t help but shiver at the notion that this place was merely an illusion Lucifer put on. You could only imagine what the poor souls actually stuck in hell must be going through.

It took quite a while for you to calm Lucifer down enough to extract the full story out of him, and if you were to be honest you were quite impressed with the sheer balls on the Greendale coven along with their sense of self-preservation.

“That explains the appearance of your star. Your soul must be entangled with the person you’re trapped here with. His star…” you trailed off, eyebrows furrowing. In the star chart, alongside the Dark Lord’s fated star was a dim, dying one. The Morningstar was obviously feeding off of the energy of the lesser one, weakening it’s owner’s connection to their fate.

What this meant for that person, you don’t know.

After coming upon this thought, you finally register the faint sound you realize had faded into the background this entire time. It sounded like light sobbing, the kind a person lets out once they’ve exhausted themselves past emotional intensity and fallen into a pure hopelessly pitiful state of despair.

Your eyes wander around the space, trying to find the source of the noise. Finally, they land upon a small figure hunched in a far corner. Watching carefully, you observe an adolescent boy rocking back and forth, hands over his head and mumbling to himself. He did not seem well, and it wasn’t until a closer look into his core did you notice the same odd split in his soul you clocked in Lucifer when you first confirmed with your own eyes it’s existence. It was the most miserable soul you’d ever seen.

The horror is quick to spread through you, the dizzying effect ignored as you twirl yourself around to face Lucifer again.

“Is that him? The boy you’re trapped with? Why is he like that? Have you been torturing him this entire time?”

Your anger was prominent, and Lucifer’s attention snapped over to the boy. His eyes narrowed and he let out a long, drawn out hiss. The boy’s body shuddered violently, and his already small frame seemed to shrink into itself even more. Rage crept through your veins as you watched the scene, intense pity and disgust shocking your core.

“Ah, yes, him. The bloody idiot volunteered to be the acheron, for my insolent daughter no less,” he claimed indignantly. “It is only right that he be punished for his offense.”

Lucifer continued to insult the boy who hailed from the same coven of witches that betrayed him, and you’d finally had enough.

“Shut up.” You inflected, voice thick with irritation. Ignoring the same offended and murderous look Lucifer has given her several times through their exchange so far, you raise your palm, cutting off any attempt at retribution.

‘If you want things to go back to normal, we need to work together. Whatever you are, you’re under my domain now. That means you help me, I help you. If you don’t,” you shrugged. “You and this entire world will more than likely be destroyed. Doesn’t mean much more than a demotion for me, but for you…”

Honestly, you were definitely underexaggerating the ramifications for yourself should you fail at your assignment. But you were also 100% telling the truth that the Dark Lord didn’t really have a choice in complying with you if he wanted things to go back to how they were. The man seemed aware of that, because he immediately began pacing, his voice once again an insanely thunderous growl.

“I WILL KILL THEM FOR THIS. THEY SHALL SUFFER FOR ALL ETERNITY. THEIR SOULS ARE MINE, YOUR SOUL,” he suddenly snaps his head in the direction of the boy, “IS MINE.”

Lucifer’s attempt at launching himself at the boy, shadows surging and flames of hellfire dancing in his eyes, frightened you beyond belief, and you found yourself forming a sigil from your studies before you could really even properly register what you were doing.

And then suddenly, quiet.

*

Author’s Note: Please request if you’d like to be added to the tag list. Thank you!

[neverendingparable]

KuroŌji

This wouldn’t leave my mind until I wrote it. Inspired by the fact that no matter how cool a black butler AU would be, there’s no way Phobos would go around serving a human being (probably?). And so...

@sassycompanions

TW for mentions of torture through sleep deprivation, death, and demon shenanigans.

Sleep deprivation did all kinds of things to you.

He knew it well by now, the familiar agonizing ache of forced wakefulness, how it felt like to be so tired he wanted to sob or whimper or beg for mercy.

But the experiments kept on going, relying on his unwilling participation to find and remove whatever obnoxious part of the human mind robbed society those precious eight hours of their lives.

If they could cure sleep, they would change the world. And get very, very rich. And that sort of purpose is enough to dismiss a few human lives no one would truly mourn for.

Hallucinations were common. They twisted at the edges of his vision at first, then crept closer, getting bolder and more frequent. He'd hear breathing next to his ear and see no one there when he'd turn his head. Or the soft murmur of voices roused him from his miserable thoughts, lingering even when he'd focus.

Sometimes he'd like to imagine they were his shadowy friends, unable to help other than keeping him company for however long he had left. Or he'd imagine this was a horrid nightmare he could wake up from, that the cage and the needles and the never ending torture for the sake of science were nothing but a mean trick his mind was playing on him when in reality he was tucked away safely in some bed, safe and loved, the real world's whispers seeping into his dreams.

But as vivid as they were, they never interacted much with him, their shapes disappearing when he'd grasp at them.

So when one night, one of the shadows reached through the bars of his cage and gave him a curious prod, he knew something was off.

The sudden touch startled him so badly, he nearly leapt across the cramped space to get away from the shadowy hand whose owner, a dim face half visible in the darkness, was now watching him with amusement.

They stared at each other for a couple of moments.

This is a vivid dream, he thought finally.

Ah, not quite~ a voice responded in his head. It was melodic, with a hint of an accent he couldn't quite place. None of the previous voices were this coherent.

I've gone insane, haven’t I? Took long enough, I suppose.

Darling, you're not even halfway there yet.

The experiment closed his eyes and shook his head fiercely. When he opened it again, the shadow hadn't disappeared.

You're still here?

Did you think it would be that easy?

Who are you?

The shadow's smile stretched wider, inhumanely so and despite all the horrors he had gone through before, the sight struck him with dread.  Its voice scratched on the inside of his mind like fingernails on bone, making him shudder.

เ ค๓ ץ๏ยг ฬ๏гรt ภเɠђt๓คгє

He wanted to scoff, laugh and tell the shadow it was a little too late to the party. But then it twisted its form, for just a minute, and the face that leered out from behind the shadows made his heart stop in terror. A beat later it was back to being indistinct, floating between the cage bars, amused at his ever growing fear.

Have you come to kill me? He thought, unsure what answer he was hoping for.

No, it grinned back.

Then...

Don't you remember? You called me. You want to make a deal with the ๔єvเl, you foolish human.

But don’t you see that no matter they do to you, เ ςคภ ๒є ๓ยςђ ฬ๏гรє~?

It prodded his forehead with a shadowy finger and he believed it. The experiments here could break his body  before his spirit but this...demon, it could reach into his mind and cut the very cords that tethered him to sanity. It could probably rip his soul out if it wanted to.

But it was looking for something. It wouldn't have come just to kill an abomination that would be dead in less than a few weeks. He felt another thing right then, something more painful than the hellish torment his body had endured and with this tiny flame of hope burning inside of him, he reached out and asked to be saved.

Protect me, he begged. And I'll serve you however you want.

The being reached into the cage and he placed a hand in its cold palm. It seemed pleased.

We have a deal.

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

"Just kill me already, please." Mason moaned, staring at the list of tasks he had just been handed with a mix of despair and annoyance.

Rooms to clean.

Supplies to stock up on, which meant a trip into town.

Writing and sending off letters address to various partners of his Lord, shady or dangerous people who dropped off packages and signed contracts even he didn't get to look at.

Tending to rose bushes, watering the garden, just to name a few.

"Tsk, that would go against our contract." Came the reply, filled with feigned indignance.

Mason's head snapped up and glowered at the man lounging on the regal couch, watching him with obvious mirth.

A butler who complained about work was worthless in most households and would be replaced by yes men who followed every command with a docile bow. But that would be too boring, wouldn’t it?

His Lord allowed him the occasional grumble without any severe reprimanding because Phobos took great delight in his suffering and never missed an opportunity to point out how serving a high maintenance prince was a hell of a lot better than rotting away in some moldy cage.

He was right, of course.

"I restocked this yesterday!" Mason continued regardless. "And we don't have any guests over for at least another week, why do I need to clean the rooms out now?"

"You can't possibly know that," the prince replied, calmly picking up a porcelain tea cup with a graceful hand. "I may be expecting guests."

"Shouldn’t you tell me then? Seeing how I am your butler and need to know if we are expecting company?"

"Ah, do you?" Phobos' eyebrows shot up in mock surprise. "It seems like you spend more time arguing and whining than being useful."

Mason opened his mouth, then closed it again.

"Of course, my Lord." He sighed, giving him a disingenuous bow. "I apologize."

Phobos dismissed him with a wave that meant 'now don’t bother me again unless it has something to do with food, wine or actual entertainment' and Mason withdrew back into the kitchen to check with Charlotte if they have enough food for any surprise visits Phos the future threw at them.

(He was convinced that Phobos sometimes threw impromptu balls just to watch him scramble around desperately arranging catering and schedules at last second.)

When the shadowy figure had first pulled him out of that hell hole, Mason had expected a lot of things. A culling, perhaps. Hell. A place of punishment.

Instead, he got a butler costume, his name back and a grand, luxurious dark castle to look after, spoiled prince included.

Learning to serve was hard but Phobos refused to go easy on him, giving him elaborate instructions of how he wanted things and forcing him to spend hours perfecting the chores. When Charlotte eventually came into their midst, he was happy to hand over the cooking to someone else.

Mason never figured out why the prince kept them around - maybe out of loneliness or boredom or a hidden sinister plan yet to be discovered - but he kept up his end of the deal.

A few times, someone came for Mason. Their bodies never left the castle and he burned the remains in the basement's hearth.

Months after his rescue, a rich doctor stopped by for a visit. He had only one servant along, a sickly looking maid with hollow eyes. What had happened behind closed doors was unknown to them both, but when Mason came to serve tea, he found the doctor, lying in a pool of his own blood. He had sent the maid back into the kitchen before she could see the mess and wordlessly cleaned the blood off his Lord's hands.

Thus Charlotte joined their little party.

Mason learnt a few things about Phobos too, in the time they spent together. 

He had a different name, once upon a time and a past he spoke of occasionally with a hint of derision and disgust. He had been a powerful tyrant, reflected in the way his guests spoke in his presence. He had a curse that tore him apart and left him exhausted, his room always smelling faintly of blood afterwards. None of Mason's questions were ever answered directly, so he learned to keep spare bed sheets and healing flasks at hand, knew how to recognize the signs of pain when his Lord was too proud to ask for help and ended up on a first name basis with the witches in town in his search for a cure.

You can't cure a demon, Phobos mocked him constantly. 

Mason disagreed. 

If a soul could be redeemed by a deal with the devil, then he felt quite confident of attempting the impossible.

[saelwen]

Sauron x Witch!Reader

Sauron x Witch!Reader

Request by a lovely anon:

What about a witch reader who is very powerful and she’s Sauron soulmate and he kidnaps her and they fall in love 🥰💕💕

Masterlist

Warnings: Fluff

Words: 2k

Humming softly an old song, you pick some herbs for your potions. It has been a busy week. A large portion of humans, elves and dwarfs have come to you seeking the help of your powers and healing potions since you were known to be a powerful witch.

You are a hybrid between an elf and an ainur. Your mother was beautiful elleth, with gorgeous long silver locks and two big hazel eyes. She had fallen in love with a stranger who had appeared at her door wounded, asking for her help. From there, the two of them become inseparable and a beautiful relationship grew between them which leads your mother giving birth to you.

Your father revealed to your mother that he was a maiar, who was sent by the Valar themselves to Middle-Earth to help bring peace. But he failed on his mission and the blessed lands called for him which he answered, leaving your mother and you behind.

Your mother was a mess after he was gone, slowly fading away. You try everything to help her, using your powers on her to try to bring happiness to her again...but it didn’t work. Your mother wished to sail west, to be reunited with your father once more.

After her departure, you wandered through the lands of Middle-Earth alone. Learning new cultures and languages. You become a master of healing potions and in nature. The elves begin to call you Yavanna's hén which means Child of Yavanna.

Finally, after years of searching for a place for you to call home. You found a beautiful peaceful spot in the middle of an ancient forest. There, you build your home and shop.

You finished picking herbs and walk back to your lovely shop but as you were walking down your secret path, you feel a burning gaze behind you. You turn your head to the side a little, only to peek from your shoulder.

In the shadows, you saw two sharp glowing eyes. Their color was golden like the sunlight. You continue walking but changing your path so the stranger didn’t know where you lived. Humming gently, you observe the nature around you, hearing the soft song of the birds and the wind shaking the tall green trees.

You heard the light footstep behind you along with heavy breathing. Smirking, you lift your hand and snap your fingers. At your order, large vines start coming out from the ground, wrapping the stranger tightly.

He let out a snarl and try to escape from the vines, trashing around but that only made you smirk even more. You turn around and see a beautiful ellon with silver hair which reminds you of spider webs. His golden eyes glare at you, trying to kill you with his burning look.

“Let me go now, Witch!” he growls, his voice was rich and sultry.

You chuckle and walk towards him, noticing that there something different about this elf. You cross your arms over your chest and look to him with an eyebrow lifted. Waves of powerful power radiate from him, a power that you knew full well. Dark Magic.

“I will let you go if you enlighten me with your name,” you said calmly, studying all his movements carefully.

He stops trashing around and took a deep breath, putting a calm face. “My name is Annatar, the Lord of Gifts,” he said gently, a fake smile on his lips. “Now, could you please take those things off?!” he pulls his right arm, trying to free himself.

“Annatar hmm?” you took a step forward, looking to his golden eyes. Seeing them full of fury, bloodlust, and destruction. You lift your hand and cup gently his cold cheek. Closing your eyes, you saw his past. Saw all the death that he and his master did to Middle-Earth “... Sauron...” you whisper, seeing the shock in his golden eyes.

You smirk and put a piece of silver hair behind his pointy ear, stroking gently his earlobe. “Did you thought that I was that stupid, Sauron?” you step back and grab the basket that you had put down.

Turning around, you begin walking back to your house. “Hey! Where do you think are you going?! Free me from this trap!” he shouted, his voice dark and deep now which made your skin full of goosebumps from excitement.

A giggle fell from your lips and look back. “I think I will not.” you continue walking, smirking happily. “Have a good day, Sauron!” you sing which earns you a tantrum from the necromancer.

---

Three have passed since you left the necromancer trap in vines. You would be lying if you said that you weren’t scared of him. Well, you weren’t terrified but you knew that he was stronger than you. So, in those three days, you have your eyes wide open, ready for his attack if he had set himself free from the vines.

You were working on your new order when you feel power magic hovering the air. He’s here. You thought while cleaning your hands on an old cloth and walk outside. Standing a few feet away from your house was a pissed Sauron, his golden eyes throwing daggers at you.

You gave him an innocent smile and tilt your head to the side. “May I help with something?” you asked, trying to contain your laugh as you notice his ripped clothes and sticks on his messy silver hair.

“YOU!” he snarls, taking heavy steps towards you. “Who do you think you are, Witch?!” his voice echoed through the forest, making the birds go silent and flew away. His silver hair starts changing color, turning to a bright red which reminds you of flames. His skin becomes even paler and his white robes turn into pure black armor.

Finally! Your true form! You thought happily.

He lifts his large hand and a massive mace appears. He swung his weapon to you with all his strength which almost hit you. Smirking, you clap your hands and strong roots come from the ground, wrapping around his legs and pulling him down. Sauron makes a ball of fire and burns the roots to ashes. You curse under your breath and summon more roots and vines but he burned them all.

“Give up, Little Witch! You will never win against me!” he said with a smirk.

You roll your eyes and throw a ball of energy towards him which he diverted easily, teleporting behind you. You try to turn back to push him away but it was too late. Sauron put one finger in your forehead and you were out, falling into his strong arms.

---

A groan fell from your lips as you open slowly your eyes. Your head felt heavy as you look around you, noticing that you were in a dark room with very well-crafted furniture.

“Where the hell am I?” you whisper, rubbing your forehead with your hand.

“In my fort.” the familiar sultry voice sounded in the room. “I hope you had a good rest, little Witch.” in the corner of your eye, you saw him coming out of the shadows. His burning red hair shining with the dim light of the candles, his golden eyes glowed with content.

You sit straighter, noticing that you were lying on a massive bed. “You have a lovely place.” your voice calm as you stretch your legs and back, ignoring the confused look on Sauron’s face.

He took a step towards you and grab a piece of your h/c locks, running his fingers gently on it which surprised you. “You aren’t afraid of me... Why?” he asked, still playing with your hair.

Shrugging, you look up to him, liking the way his golden eyes observed you. “If you wanted to harm me, you had made it much sooner,” you said gently. “And I saw a faint light surrounded by darkness in you, Mairon.” as you said that name, he grabs you by the neck and squeezes it carefully.

“Do not call me that name!” he hissed.

You nod slowly and he let you go, taking some steps back. He took a deep breath and glare to you. “You have ainur blood in you... Care to tell me your tale?” he asked while sitting on the chair beside the bed.

Sighing, you lie down on the soft bed, moaning as you relax your body. Your turn your head to him, seeing his eyes devouring your body. “It’s a boring tale but I think I can share.” and so you did.

---

You don’t know how much time has passed since Sauron took you to his fort. To your surprise, he didn’t throw you to a cold nasty cell. Instead, he let you sleep and eat in his huge chambers. You two sleep in the same bed but since the bed was huge, you never touch him in your sleep.

Sauron passed most of the days in his forges, always working on his evil plans. But every evening, he would come to his chambers and share a meal with you. Talking with you about his day and his work, it almost seems you two were husband and wife which was...weird but nice.

He had given you books to entertain you but still, you were bored. So, using your powers, you turn his chambers into a jungle which made him furious.

You two had become close during your stay in his fort. He was always curious about your powers, asking questions of your old life. You also would ask him about Valinor since you never went there and it was where your mother and father were.

He told you some of his stories with Melkor but you tried to change topics. You didn’t want to know much about his previous master.

“Why do I have to be stuck here all day?” you said with a pout in your lips.

“Because I say so,” he said while adjusting his armor. “And it’s the safer place for you, melleth nin.” as he said that, his eyes bulge and his pale cheeks were stain with red.

You sat straight in the bed quickly, your eyes wide in surprise. Your heart was beating like crazy and you felt your cheeks become hot. Did he like you? Well...that would be good because he had woken a strange feeling in you since the day you first saw him.

Smirking wickedly, you stood up and walk to him. Swaying your hips more than the usual which caught his attention. “Melleth nin?” you asked with a giggle while putting your hand on his strong chest. “Since when we start calling each other that?” you move your hand up.

He let out a small cough, his golden eyes filled with nervousness. “Ahh... I didn’t call you that...you must have heard wrong!” he shutters.

Your smirk grew bigger and you wrap your arms around his neck. Pulling his face close to yours, your lips brushing against his. “Oh really? Here I thought that I could this,” you whisper, looking to his eyes and then to his kissable lips.

He took a deep breath. “Do what?” he asked quietly, running his tongue over his lips.

“This.” with that you crush your lips against his, kissing him with all your love and passion. He groans and returns the kiss, putting his large hands on your hips, squeezing gently your flesh there.

You two pour all your desire and lust into the kiss, making you both dizzy. You pull back first, taking deep breaths. His lips were wet and red from the kiss which made you want to kiss him again.

“I’ve should call you that sooner if I knew you would to this,” he whispers.

You giggle and nod, biting your lower lips. “Yeah...you should have.”

He rests his forehead against yours and sighs, his strong arms pulling to him and wrapping around you protectively. At the moment, you knew why your mother said that the arms of your father were like home because that was what you felt in Sauron's arms...Home.

Hey Guys!! Here’s a new one shot with Sauron! I hope you like it and feel free to comment and tell me what you think!

XOXO

[panharmonium]

round 3 of in-progress naruto thoughts, featuring me crying tears about pretty much everybody

[spoiler policy disclaimer first, as always: i’m only still in the early stages of shippuden (we just finished the asuma arc).  i literally had zero interest in naruto growing up, so i remain unspoiled for virtually everything that happens past this point.  i would love to stay that way, so please don’t interact with this (tags included, because the notifications now show them to me automatically) with any spoilery commentary, including even general things like “oh i love this show but it gets less good after X point” or “X season is better than Y season” or any general assessments of quality/likability/etc re: future seasons.  Thank you! <3 ]

- well, folks.  i have apparently reached the point in my viewing experience where i am deeply emotionally attached to virtually all of the characters and i care when bad stuff happens to even the most minor of them, because the asuma arc really ripped my heart out and used my feelings as ping-pong balls

- that said - i have to admit, if you’re going to kill a character, that was the way to handle it.  it wasn’t glossed over or dropped like a hot potato; it had a huge arc attached to it and major development for the other characters involved and it came full circle at the end in such a quiet, complete way.  i was hoping from the very beginning that the answer to “who’s the king” was going to be “children” (all i could think about was asuma yelling at kazuma “children aren’t pawns to protect the king!” during the sora arc) and ultimately that ended up being true, and i found that so satisfying.  (painful.  but satisfying.)

- SHIKAMARU.  HERO.  i always loved him, but what an incredible arc he had.  and that episode, “team 10″ - WOW.  wow.  they really kicked it up a notch for that one - that was legitimately beautiful television, not just “good by naruto standards.”  gorgeous animation/composition/editing...this show is in fact capable of magic, when it takes its time.

- grow up, you three.  the shadow of death hangs over us all.  some deaths may be harder to accept than others, but if you can’t get past that, there can be no future!  

^^ this is legitimately my favorite line of the series.  i can’t stop thinking about it.  i love how tsunade is speaking from her own experience, and how she’s not wrong - nobody in this confrontation is wrong, really; shikamaru has his stuff more together than tsunade realizes, and tsunade is just telling the truth, and i just love how this entire line relates so closely to the thematic heart of this arc, which is the sanctity of children and the future they represent.  like...so many characters in this show have seen so much death and tragedy, but we see children/the promise of the future pulling people out of that hole and back into a hopeful place.  it’s literally tsunade’s whole story with naruto.  she’s speaking from the heart, and it’s one of those lines that you can feel resonate across the whole story.

- kakashi, once again, coming to destroy me with his level of devotion to the kids.  not even his own kids, this time.  when he shows up at the end of “team 10″ and offers to take over for asuma and go with shikamaru’s group - i lost my mind.  he’s been keeping an eye on those kids the whole time.  nobody told him about what they were doing; he has no reason to be out at the gates at that time of night - he’s been keeping tabs on them.  he knows exactly what they’re going through.  he knows how they must feel.  he wants to make sure they’re okay.  and when he sees that they’re in an appropriate frame of mind for what they’re planning (aka, not unbalanced by rage or grief or the desire for revenge), he immediately offers himself up as an adult support figure.  he inserts himself into that situation and assumes responsibility for making sure nobody gets hurt.  he puts himself into a position where he can escort them through this experience safely (in more ways than one).  he lets shikamaru take the lead and achieve closure, all while simultaneously monitoring the situation to make sure every choice the group makes is the safest, smartest thing to do.  and then in the battle, he puts himself in between the kids and certain death over and over again - he saves their lives so many times. 

the kids are so grateful to him for doing that.  they respect him so much for it.  they feel supported.  they feel looked after.  they feel validated.  three kids who just lost their adult mentor in such a sudden, violent way - for them to have another grown-up step in and temporarily assume that role, for them to feel a pair of capable, steady hands propping them up before they fall down - that is so important!

kakashi is beautiful to me because he takes every horrible thing that ever happened to him and turns it into an unwavering commitment to help other people navigate the same rocky waters.  everything he does is designed to catch people when they fall, particularly when it comes to children.  he doesn’t have to take that kind of interest in asuma’s team.  none of the other adults are monitoring them like that.  but he understands what they’re dealing with and he knows they could hurt themselves if somebody doesn’t take care of them and so he steps in and assumes that responsibility himself.  and then he does the same thing with team 8′s kids, too, in the next arc, when kurenai is out of commission.  he takes all of his own painful experiences and turns them into ways he can protect other people from stumbling into the same pits he fell into, and i’ll tell you this for damn sure - he’d rather take a deadly hit himself than allow another cohort of children to be wiped off the face of the earth before their time. 

i love that about him.  i love that he turns all of the trouble he’s seen into ways he can be a source of strength for others.  i love that he is always thinking about the kids.  that’s the whole point of this arc: children are king.  kakashi knows that just as well as asuma did, and the way he consistently throws himself in front of the children to keep them safe is my favorite thing about him.

- fucking LOVE that shikamaru turns down the feudal lord’s offer because he wants to stay in the village in case his friends need him.  i feel like this kind of choice is never portrayed as a good thing in media - it’s always shown to be better to get yourself out there, try something new, leave old things behind, take a risk, make a change, as if staying home is somehow the same thing as settling or wasting your potential.  i love how asuma lifts up shikamaru’s decision to stay rooted in his home as a worthy and admirable thing.  the will of fire, indeed.

- the EMOTIONS i felt every time kakashi was helping naruto figure out how to complete the rasengan....when kakashi tells him “i truly believe you are the only shinobi who can surpass the fourth hokage” and then while walking away yamato’s all “you sweet-talked him” and kakashi immediately sets him straight like “no.  no.  i believe he can do it.”  SOBBING.  

- “good old asuma.  he must’ve known you inside and out, huh?”  i’ll be over here crying in the club, folks

- kakashi having conversations with sasuke in his head was Too Much for me ;__;

- we watched a bit past the asuma arc and are now into the part about the gemstone lady but the only thing i have to say about this new arc so far is about jiraiya and honestly i’m going to have to gif it to do it justice.  that scene with him and naruto where naruto falls asleep on him just...struck me down where i sat.  i was actually about ready to cry for real.  my feelings couldn’t take it.  i used to not really care too much about jiraiya in the shonen jump days (and yes, there’s some stupid stuff with him that you have to just look past if you’re going to enjoy things) but i love him so much now and i am finding myself so moved by the way he is rejoining the village and (re)building his connections with the people there, and how much meaning has been brought back into his life by the opportunity to work with naruto in particular, and how like...i mean, this is just my own impression, because i haven’t seen his full backstory yet, but he strikes me as someone who’s been running away for a long time, who had very little hope for the future, someone who experienced some terrible things and gave up, just like tsunade, until he runs into naruto.  and now things have changed for him, and it warms my heart to see it.  i love watching him take naruto on training field trips, and i love the depth of care we see from him towards naruto now - a far cry from the “i don’t like kids” of early shonen jump.  i love seeing him collaborate with kakashi - tag-teaming their teaching and climbing in through the window to check on him in the hospital and teasing him about how silly he looks with a sheet over his nose.  i’ve just become so touched by his progression and by the way the establishment of these relationships with “his” kids and the village as a whole (bonds, connections, all the things that this show can’t shut up about) has almost been a...healing sort of thing for him and has changed his entire outlook on life and given him a new sense of hope/meaning.  

like.  i can’t believe i am out here having jiraiya emotions after how little i cared about him when i first met him, but...here i am.  

[damn-stark]

Child of Ren Ch.12

A/N- I loved writing this chapter! I’m so excited to continue writing for TROS! I hoped you guys liked it, leave your thoughts..love you all, take care ❤️

Warning- violence, angst, talks of death and abuse, light swearing, long chapter! Slow burn...(does this still even count?)

Pairing- Poe Dameron x reader x Rey, Kylo Ren x Reader (platonic)

Takes place during- TROS

(Let me know if you wanna be tagged)

———

Exegol. Four months later.

A cold chill ran throughout your body, one that reached your bones. A chill that caused you to grip tighter onto the lightsaber hilt in your hand.

Quietly you looked around the dark, cold Citadel, seeing blue lightening boom every second, sending off a light that seemed to brighten the way that called to you. A way that a small voice told you not to take, that told you to listen to Kylo and stay by the fighter. You wanted to listen to Kylo and your inner voice, but the calling was demanding, strong, it took over and won the battle in your head.

So carefully you walked forward, your thumb ghosting over your lightsabers activation button and a hand balled at your side. The more you continued down the path, the stronger the calling was and the stronger your intuition to stay behind got, but it was too late to listen, you realized that now as you elevated down on a platform and began to see huge statues decorate the dark hall.

As you stalked forward the darker and colder it seemed to get, but that wasn’t what you feared, nor the men in cloaks, but the huge containers with the multiple clones of...Snoke. The sight made you gasp and freeze in place. The man that had physically and mentally abused you for years was nothing but a....fake. Their was a sudden urge to destroy the container, destroy it until their was nothing left, and you would have if a sudden voice didn’t call to you. The voice boomed, and echoed around the hall, sounding amused, rough, cold and frightening all at the same time.

“The great Child of Ren. Welcome, come forward, don’t be scared.”

You hesitated, but did as the voice said, earning a cold chuckle from the same voice.

When you stepped out of the shadows, the voice spoke again, “come, come.” Instantly Kylo snapped his head to you, sending you a glare and talking to you through the force.

I told you to stay on that fighter.

Easily you responded with, I know.

Kylo slowly made his way to you, standing in front of you protectively as the voice revealed itself as a....man hidden behind a dark cloak and sitting upon a floating chair. The man moved closer to you, causing Kylo to push you further back. In that instant though you saw the mans milky eyes, his hands that seemed to be slowly deteriorating just like his face, all sending a cold chill.

“Let me see her.” The voice demanded, but Kylo didn’t move, only responded with a cold voice.

“Theirs nothing you may want with her.”

The man smirked, “I was the one that brought you two together, I put you in her path, if it weren’t for me you would have never found her and grew to love her as you do now. Now. Let. Me. See. Her.”

Kylo hesitated, letting out a heavy huff before stepping to the side and letting you be seen, only you weren’t really, you were hidden behind your helmet. The man saw that and waved his hand, motioning you to take it off, only you didn’t.

“Take that thing off, girl.”

You looked over to Kylo before turning back to face the man. Slowly you began to take off your helmet with shaky hands, revealing the fear expressed on your face, and the high need to be by Kylo.

As you tilted your head up, the man chuckled coldly, his black mouth showing, and showed more as he moved closer in his chair; “It is nice to meet you, Windu. At long last. I rejoice in the fact that I have turned Mace Windu’s granddaughter to the dark side. What would he think of you.”

Your breath caught in your throat at the reveal, after so years of not knowing, of wondering who you were, of suffering to know what was forgotten, this man revealed it like if it were nothing, so carelessly that you couldn’t even believe it. You didn’t want to believe it. In utter surprise, not knowing how to respond to the reveal you turned to Kylo for reassurance, only to find he was as shocked as you.

“Let me introduce myself, I am Palpatine, the one that made who you are now, the one that let you discover the power of the dark side and led you to me. All those years of training under Kylo Ren has finally paid off....so you can once and for all join me.” Palpatine announced, making you take a step back and remain quiet. He turned to Kylo with a mischievous look before looking back to you, “say you’ll join me, and I will make you more powerful, I will teach you the ways of the dark side, teach you how not lose people you love again. You will become stronger than your grandfather ever was and will be greater than he was. You will be the most powerful Sith Lord in history.”

Remaining quiet you studied him, processed what he offered, not turning to Kylo and staring hard at the terrifying man that had nothing surrounding him but darkness. And as tempting as the offer of not losing people you loved, you couldn’t accept his offer, ever. Just as you were going to decline his offer something showed itself to you, a ripple, a crack through the force, one that revealed something significant, a way that could end it all once and for all. Killing him. Killing Palpatine, was the key to ending it all.

A small smirk tugged at the corner of your lips with a new purpose in mind, a purpose that you have been destined to do all along. Kill Palpatine. Make sure his evil no longer existed or led the galaxy down another path of darkness like he did years ago. So he couldn’t lead you or....the child you carried down darkness. What you could do, your abilities came to a greater use now. And for that you were grateful. So in order to make him believe you were going to accept, you took a knee, carefully placing your lightsaber by your feet and bowing your head.

Kylo was left in silent shock in the distance, not believing or wanting you to do what he saw you were going to do. He wanted to fight you agaisnt it, take you by the arm and take you home, but he couldn’t, he didn’t. Instead he watched and felt betrayed and hurt.

“I Y/N...” you paused not knowing what name to say now...your real name or Windu...one name meant more than the other to you, while the other had more value, more power, fame; But as you were going to do so you couldn’t say it out-loud, it felt foreign, so you said what felt right, “...Ren, Child of Ren, hereby now give my loyalty to you...” carefully and discreetly with the force you began to rise your lightsaber from the ground, catching Kylo’s attention from the side. He saw your intentions and wanted to stop you, but he didn’t, because if he did he knew Palpatine would know what you planned to do and kill you.

“...I will become what the galaxy will fear alongside you..and your teachings,” inch by inch you rise the lightsaber, waiting for the perfect opportunity. “...I will become what I was meant to become. The Empress the Galaxy needs.” You tilt your head up, and show a feigned smile. Palpatine grins, looking to Kylo as if taunting him on what you were announcing. But as he does that, as he’s off guard, in a swift movement you fully pull up your lightsaber, bringing it close to his chest and igniting it.

Only the crimson red blade didn’t show or impale Palpatine, instead he fought your hold on it. You struggled to ignite it, but you couldn’t. Palpatine snapped his head to face you, a evil scowl replacing the grin. “You may not look like your grandfather, but you have his same foolish intentions.” He growled, using the force to contradict your hold and threaten you with your lightsaber. “Foolish girl! You thought you could Kill me!” He boomed, lifting you off the ground and for Kylo to try and save you, only to be stopped, “stay boy, or else you lose everything I promised!”

Kylo didn’t hesitate and activated his lightsaber, threatening Palpatine with it, “leave her, or I will kill you.”

I told you to stay behind, why didn’t you listen.

You didn’t answer Kylo, instead let out a small growl that was quickly silenced as Palpatine began to choke you.

“After all I’ve given you, girl! After what I’ve done to bring you here! This how you repay me! You were a use to me, but now you’re worthless, and will die that way.” Palpatine hissed, choking you harder and for Kylo to try and fight to pull you to him, his eyes stinging with unshed tears as his anger rose.

“Let her go!” If you didn’t know him like you did, you would’ve missed the crack in his voice, “let her go! I’m warning you! Let. Her. Go!”

Palpatine held Kylo’s watery gaze and chuckled coldly as he tightened his grip on you, making sure Kylo heard your struggle, now knowing his weakness. You.

You reached for your throat to try and remove the force choking you, but their was nothing physically holding you, nothing you could rip off. Palpatine was stronger than you and Kylo. Their was nothing Kylo could do, he was trying but he couldn’t fight Palpatine. And you couldn’t do anything either but let yourself slowly fade into the darkness, and hear Palpatines last words to you.

“You will—” Palpatine quickly cut himself off, dropping you to the ground and slowly grinning down at you as you gasped for air. He looked to Kylo before looking at you again.

At the sight of you on the ground, Kylo dropped his lightsaber and rushed to your side. Before he could pull you to your feet Palpatine spoke again, “a child. You’re carrying a child. Powerful in the force.” Palpatine lifted you to your feet, the evil grin never fading and becoming mischievous with a darker motive behind his next words, “you’re better use to me alive than dead.” Without saying a word, one of the cloaked people, came to your side with a black ring in his hand.

Palpatine then lied, “to protect your child. Put that ring on, and your child will always be protected, no harm will come to it.”

You shared a glance with Kylo, and then with the cloaked person in front of you. You didn’t want to take the ring, but you were gullible to the fact that it could bring safety to the child, so you didn’t question it..even if you should have done so—Slowly you took the ring and slid it onto your finger. Nothing felt different as you had it on so you didn’t question it.

“Leave now, our plan is still in motion Kylo Ren.” He looked to you with his haunting white eyes, “Until we see each other again, Windu.”

With no other questions or hesitation, Kylo summoned his lightsaber to his hand, and then yours to his other hand. He then made sure you walked ahead before he followed behind you. He didn’t speak to you until you got onto his fighter, “I told you to stay behind! And you didn’t listen!”

You argued back in a more softer voice, “why did you bring me in the first place? You should have left me at home.”

He started the fighter before arguing back, “so you could try and escape like last time? No.”

“I don’t know why you want me with you all the damn time.” You snapped, “you don’t need me. Just like I don’t need you.”

He parted lips to argue back, but as he was, he chose to stay quiet and ignore what you said.

Even if you had almost died just now, coming here wasn’t useless, now you knew Palpatine was alive, you had an advantage, a heads up for the Resistance. You saw the fleet given to Kylo, and you needed to warn them some way or another. And you knew exactly how.

—

Drawing in a deep breath you pull your hood up, covering your face from any wandering eyes. Your eyes bouncing from person to person, as you silently sneak through the shadows towards an unused communication room. Their was a part of you that felt unsure on your own made mission, a mission that was important for the resistance, for the people you loved in it, Poe, Rey and even Finn.

You were doing this for them, that’s why you risked everything, went against Kylo’s trust and your better judgment, it was for them, your family. A family you wish you were with now, but you weren’t, you were stuck with people you hated and a place you hated just as much. Stuck with Kylo, stuck with the secret of the child you carried, one Poe didn’t even know about, nor Rey, just Kylo. He said it needed to be a secret and you kept it that, for your safety and for Poe’s, because you knew if he found out, nothing would stop him from trying to storm in here and try and get you out and get you to safety.

Only you knew if he would fail and die trying, that’s why you didn’t tell him, even if he deserved to know. But you knew or rather hoped you would tell him soon enough, finally share the excitement with him and not have to go through it alone. And as depressing as that fact was, you preferred to have him alive and have him be there for his child, than having him be a story. That was another reason why you needed to or wanted to share the information about Palpatine being alive. As you sneaked to a lower level in the capital ship, you kept that fact in mind.

Very quietly you sneaked down the hall, turning a sharp right to finally come face to face with the room you needed. A small smile grew on your lips as the doors slid open reveling the dark unused room. Double checking the halls you hurried inside, locking the room before turning on the computers and choosing to remain in the dark just in case their was wanders in the halls.

Just as you were going to start typing the message, quiet footsteps echoed in the hall, footsteps that echoed closer and closer, footsteps that made you freeze in place. You hoped that the footsteps would pass, just continue down the hall, but they didn’t instead they stopped outside the door. Beginning to gnaw on your bottom lip out of habit and bundling nerves, you reached for your lightsaber hidden behind your cloak. The doors keypad began to ring and ring, flashing a red light as whoever was outside attempted to get in.

Gripping onto your lightsaber tighter you took a big step forward, hiding by the entrance to surprise the intruder as the light on the keypad finally flashed green. The door slid open with a loud swoosh sound, followed by footsteps sounding as they moved forward. You spun to the side to land in front of the intruder, and just as you were about ignite your lightsaber the lights turned on revealing....

“General Hux?”

General Hux, stepped back, sharing the same feeling of surprise as you. He stared at you hard, remaining quiet for a moment before standing in his usual serious and uptight stance. He cleared his throat before bowing his head and greeting you, “Commander Ren.”

Choosing to keep your thumb over your lightsabers button, you kept the deactivated lightsaber pointed at him, making sure he knew it was there and you weren’t afraid to use it on him for his unknown reasons on being here.

Was this a trap? Did Kylo find out what you planned to do?.....if he did he definitely wouldn’t send Hux. So this was something else, he was here on other accords.

“What are you doing here?” You asked with a threatening glare.

“Same thing as you I suspect.”

Loosening your grip on your saber you took a step back, but still close enough to be threatening; “and that would be what exactly?”

He rolled his eyes before walking around you, “inform the resistance of Palpatine and the Final order fleet...is that not correct?”

Still strange....why would he want to do that? Be a spy? he was loyal to the First Order, he always has—an annoying trait of his. So you needed to ask, “why? Why are you doing this?”

General Hux stopped what he was doing and turned to face you, not hesitating with his words, “because I want to see Kylo Ren lose.”

You kept your eyes trained on him, glaring at him before letting out a loud genuine chuckle, “really? Are you serious?” Pausing as you saw his serious demeanor you got serious again and hid your lightsaber behind your back, before moving by Hux, “all right, I-I oddly believe you.” Only because his hatred for Kylo was painfully clear, “let’s get to work.”

General Hux, stood in silent shock, not wanting to believe you would continue with the secret message, continue working with him without another question. In fact neither of you ever would believe that you would work together on something like this.

“I know someone in the Sinta Glaciar Colony, who can transfer the message to the Resistance.” You began, snapping Hux from his stupor.

“As do I.” General Hux interjected.

You smiled and partially glanced at him, “a Mine overseer, named Boolio?” You both knew him for different reasons, but neither of you commented on it.

He nodded his head in agreement, before stopping you to correct what you were doing, “You’re going have to use ciphers, this is high risk information.”

“Look at us working together.” You grinned, “who would’ve thought? We might even become friends now.”

General Hux responded with a frown before finishing on helping with the message.

Once the message was completed you transferred it into a datafile and took it in your hand. You looked down at it with a proud smile before meeting General Hux’s gaze. Before you could say what you wanted to say, Hux took the datafile from you and said, “go. The Supreme Leader will be looking for you, we can’t risk being caught, I’ve got it handled from here.”

You hesitated, but knew he was right so you let him take it. “I trust you. If I find out you didn’t go through, Kylo will be the least of your worries.” Putting your hood over your head once again you headed to the door, but not before looking back at Hux again, “we’ll talk later.”

—

As you quietly try and make it back to your room, you’re stopped inches from reaching your door, by none other than Kylo. He stares at you for a long minute, making you go uneasy, and causing you to think that maybe he had somehow found out what you did. It would all go to shit if he did, but before you say anything on the matter, he suddenly spoke up causing your shoulders to jump, “put your helmet on, we’re leaving.”

“Where?”

Kylo looked at you with a questioning look, questioning your weird behavior. Choosing to let it go he continued, “We’re going to Albrekh, he’s going to fix my helmet.”

—

The Knights of Ren and you stood around Kylo, watching as the metal-smith, Albrekh reforged Kylo’s shattered mask back together, in ways renewing his status as the master of The Knights of Ren.

Watching the metal-smith reforge said mask was boring and yet satisfying. The red cracks that would now decorate Kylo’s mask were intimidating and gave off the appearance of his new statues. And as Kylo put it back on you felt nothing, no intimidation, fear or joy...nor did he. You were used to it, seeing him hidden behind a mask, the only thing you weren’t used to was having the Knights of Ren follow behind him, but you knew he called them back to enforce his rule as Supreme Leader.

And yet as much as you didn’t like them around, having them walk-through the halls of the Capital ship, alongside Kylo and you, treading in mud onto the polished floors, made you feel as you did before, that pride, satisfaction of being who you were before you knew the truth. Even feeling the intimidation, and or admiring reactions from some First Order members was a satisfaction, one you didn’t want to admit to yourself.

However you had felt minutes before was all crushed as you saw the decapitated head of Boolio, the sentient that was meant to deliver the message to The Resistance. Seeing him meant two things, one, Hux went through and two, the message was delivered, otherwise he wouldn’t be this way.

“We have a spy in our ranks,” Kylo began as he threw the decapitated head on the table, making his way to stand by your side thereafter, “who just sent the message to the Resistance,” at Kylo’s words Hux briefly met your hidden gaze, not staring too long to avoid any kind of suspicion each other’s way; “whoever this traitor is won’t stop us.” Swallowing thickly you kept your head raised and acted as if you didn’t care, when you really did; “with what I’ve seen on Exegol...the First Order is about to become a true Empire.”

Kylo slowly turns his head around, looking directly at...General Hux, and as he does, Kylo continues speaking, “I sense unease about my appearance, General Hux.” Once again you look to General Hux, waiting for his slow response.

“About the mask? No, sir. Well done.”

A snicker makes it past your lips, one heard even with your helmet on. All the officers turn to look at you, quickly making you go serious again. You don’t say anything and just stand as you were before, letting the meeting continue and ignoring the real reason why, General Hux was uneasy.

“I like it.” One officer interjects seconds after.

“Forgive me, sir,” an officer begins, “but these allies on Exegol...they sound like a cult. Conjures and soothsayers.

Alligent General Pryde quickly interjected in a defensive tone, “they’ve conjured legions of Star Destroyers. The Sith fleet will increase our resources ten-thousand fold.” He then directs his comment to Hux, “such range and power will correct the error of Starkiller base.”

“We’ll need to increase recruitment.” Engell started, “harvest more of the galaxy’s young.”

The comment made you step forward in anger, parting your lips to argue against the suggestion, but Kylo stops you as he sensed your intentions.

Don’t start.

You ball your hands into tight fists, the material of your leather gloves making a noise as they rubbed together; I will start. You know exactly why!

Don’t start, y/n! Just stay quiet.

You huff and don’t argue back, focusing back on the meeting, and Quill who was speaking, “what is he asking for in return?”

Suddenly Kylo turns around, his hand extending to force choke Quill and interrupt his question, following by throwing him to the ceiling.

You don’t flinch, or react, just watch and listen as Kylo continues.

“Prepare to crush any worlds that defy us. My Knights, Commander Ren and I are going hunting for the Scavenger.”

You feel yourself go rigid, not wanting to process what Kylo said. The fact that you might see her didn’t upset you or bring you joy, only because you knew that going to search for her meant anything but good. You wanted to see her, you really did, your heart ached to see her, but nothing good was going to come out of this “hunt”.

—

The Forbidden desert of Pasaana, that’s where Rey was. You had sensed her the moment you entered the planet, she wasn’t alone though, you sensed that too, sensed Poe, and Finn. Knowing they were here made you more upset than happy, only because of the people you were with, they unlike you wouldn’t hesitate to hurt them, any of them.

“I’m just saying, if he wanted us to come with him, why did he leave? We’re not doing anything, but standing in this hot desert.” You complained as you put down your rifle.

Trudgen groaned beside you, walking to stand next to you, “complaining causes wrinkles, and on a young person such as you it would be a shame.”

You form a feigned smile, one he couldn’t see but you made sure he knew with your words, “the only thing that causes me wrinkles is you Trudgen.”

Ap’Lek snorts beside you, discreetly sharing a high-five with you. All while Trudgen shakes his head and continues searching for Rey and the crew. You knew exactly where they were, but you purposely guided them the wrong way. You knew finding your friends was inevitable, but you needed them to get away or let them finish whatever it was they were doing.

“We are doing something, y/n, we’re looking for your so called friends to kill them.” Vicrul commented with a hidden grin.

You scoffed and as you were going to shoot a witty remark, Ushar pointed his club to a ship parked on top of a the rock in the distance, “there.”

You swallowed thickly and remained quiet, you knew he was right and now you knew you were going to see them sooner than expected.

—

When the night buzzard landed behind the abandoned ship ontop of the rock, you could feel Rey, the feeling of her got stronger and stronger the closer she got, it felt amazing and terrible at the same time. Terrible in the way that if you felt her than Kylo did too. The only reason why she didn’t feel you was because you kept your Force presence hidden to avoid a tragedy. And yet as much as you wanted to avoid a tragedy, avoid them, you ached to just run to them. They were so close, and yet so far.

They were there in that ship, all you had to do was sneak off. Like you were doing now. They were so close, the faster you walked the closer they were, the closer you could get to reunite with them. They were just ontop of that rock, a rock you needed to climb to be with them.

One step and another—a nervous smile spread on your lips the closer you got, and when you did get there you could just fly off, that’s all you would need to do, fuck the promise you swore Kylo about not leaving, you just wanted to be with them again. You just wanted to be with Poe and Rey again, and you were almost there, now all you needed was to climb the rock. With one hand you reached to grab onto the ledge—

“Y/N.” Ap’Lek called, causing you to drop your hand back on your side and turn to see him and Kuruk, “come here.”

With a disappointed sigh, you stomp towards the two men. The small amount of happiness you had felt was crushed now, the hope of getting to see your friends crushed too. But nothing crushed you more than spotting Chewbacca climb down the same rock. Spotting the same thing, Kuruk turned to Ap’Lek and you with one intention in mind.

Quickly just before you could stop them, Kuruk rushed around the rock to sneak up on Chewbacca, while Ap’Lek sneaked up on him from the other side. The only thing you did was stay behind and wait for their return, your heart would hurt too much to be a part of hurting Chewbacca, when he was nothing, but nice to you when you lived in the Resistance. He was a friend you couldn’t hurt a friend.

Minutes after Kuruk and Ap’Lek had left, they came back around the corner, their weapons threatened on Chewbacca. You frowned and dropped your head as they passed, but not before making sure you walked beside them too.

“Kylo will be happy with what the thing we caught.” Ap’Lek commented with content hidden in his tone, making Chewbacca respond with an angry growl, he then turned to you, but as soon as he did you averted his gaze.

As soon as you where with the others, Trudgen clapped, patting your back and complementing the success on catching Chewbacca, “nice job, boys, and lady.”

“Don’t touch me.” You hissed as you pulled away from him. “We should let him go, he’s not who Kylo wants.”

Trudgen waved Stormtroopers over and then directed his comment to you, “no, but it’s a nice bonus.” Stormtroopers then proceeded to put a collar on Chewbacca, following by ripping his satchel away from him. The sight only made you look away, but as you did, you felt something or rather someone in the distance. You enhanced the sight on your visor, and saw...

“Finn.” He was hiding behind some stones, and as you whispered his name it’s almost like he had heard you, he pulled his gaze and seemed to look directly at you. You didn’t say anything and only held his gaze, you knew it was impossible for him to actually see your face hidden behind your helmet, but it felt like he could, in some odd way.

Unknowingly you took a step towards Finn, only to be stopped by Trudgen, “accompany the prisoner inside the same transport.”

Instantly you turned to him with a sharp, “no.”

“Go.”

“You are no one to tell me what to do!”

Trudgen gripped your arm, and whispered sharply, “these stormtroopers are idiots and not to be trusted with this prisoner, go!”

You let out a small growl and ripped your arm from Trudgen’s hold, hissing, “fine,” and walking behind Chewbacca, inside the transport— the light from the sun quickly vanished as the ramp closed, the ship soon taking off, and as it did you let out an exhausted sigh. You were so close to reuniting with your friends, and now that was ruined, now you were heading back to a home you didn’t want to be at.....then again Chewbacca was now a prisoner, only meaning one thing. Poe and the gang were going to rescue Chewbacca, their was no doubt on that, and their was no doubt you were going to see them, only it might not be the reunion you wished it would be.

—

(Rey’s P.O.V)

“Rey! Y/N is in there! They also got Chewie! They have him!”

Rey fought and fought for that transport ship, for the friend and the girl she loved that were inside of it. Fighting for it was like a game of tug-o-war, whoever was the strongest would win and she needed to win Kylo Ren. She couldn’t let him have that satisfaction of winning a fight, not when Chewbacca and y/n were there and not when she knew she could win.

Keeping that in mind she strained harder, a groan escaping her lips as she used her frustration to make her hold on the transport stronger. Rey fought with every fiber, every bit of Force energy in her, until suddenly lightening erupted from her hand, her fingers, exploding the transport ship along with Chewbacca and y/n.

“CHEWIE! Y/N! NO!” Rey pulled her hand back, looking up mortified and grief stricken at the falling pieces of what was a transport ship. Finn and Poe shouted to her in the distance, but it was all tuned out, all she could focus on was on what she did. She didn’t even know she could do such a thing, it was never her intention to do it, she loved Chewbacca and y/n, she wanted them both back and now he, she was....gone...what had she done? But then as she was still processing what she did, everything got worse....Kylo...she saw the way he looked at the ship...just as mortified as her, just as grief stricken.

Rey didn’t say anything to him, she couldn’t and didn’t want to accept you were in there. She only looked at him, spotting tears pooled in his eyes and a deep frown on his hard features.

She was in there....did you not feel it? She was in the transport ship....—Kylo communicated through the force, through their connection.—She was in that transport you destroyed.

No....no.—Rey couldn’t accept it, she couldn’t. It wasn’t true, she would’ve felt it right? The connection she had with y/n, was strong enough for her to feel if...if she had died..right? He was lying, Rey didn’t kill y/n—No you’re lying.

You didn’t only kill her, you killed her child too....

What?

He said nothing else on the regard, only seemed to ball his hands tighter, and before Rey could ask more on what he said, on what she had already figured out, Finn grabbed her wrist and began pulling her to their own ship.

When Rey and Finn finally made it, Poe was quick to fly off....he only knew of the one person who had died, Chewbacca, he didn’t know y/n was in there, or that she—that she—that he was going to be a father of a child he didn’t even know existed. It was clear it was him, who else would it be, Rey knew Y/N hated it where she lived, Rey knew she wouldn’t be with any other man. Y/N, loved Poe, that was clear and that was where Rey was conflicted, how could she even begin to tell him that a kid he didn’t know existed was gone? How could she tell him that a girl he loved was gone forever?

Rey couldn’t even process that, accept it more like. She had just killed the first person she had loved, she didn’t even tell her, she hadn’t even seen her. The last time she did see her was right before y/n left to her mission with Finn and Poe. She never returned, Rey had gotten upset at that fact, she wasn’t mad at Y/N, for leaving because Rey knew y/n couldn’t control that, but it was the fact that if Rey was there, y/n would still be with her, in fact she would’ve been on this mission, with her witty comments and temper that Rey had missed....and would...miss.

Now y/n, was a memory...just like her parents. She had lost the girl she loved like she lost her parents.

“Rey?” Finn questioned, snapping Rey from her stupor. She blinked up at him, staring at him with a tear stained face, looking at him in a daze. Rey ignored Finn, and moved to the cockpit, she wanted to tell Poe of what she had done, but as she saw him there...clueless and upset on the loss of one friend, she couldn’t bring herself to tell him about the child...that’s why instead she was going to keep that to herself, he was going to grieve enough people, she couldn’t tell him of what she had learned—but their was still y/n....Rey just stared at him and couldn’t, she was, but she couldn’t just yet, instead she walked to Finn, he was already waiting for her to say something, ready to comfort her.

But, Rey didn’t deserve any comfort, that’s what she thought to herself. How could she receive any comfort after killing y/n and the child. Either way, whatever she thought, she still needed to tell Finn what he already knew, only she was going to tell him about the child, “Finn...” she paused, drawing in a shaky breath, and just as she was going to continue, Poe walked out....making everything worse. Rey looked between her two friends and began to cry more.

“Rey...”

“It’s..” she interrupted Finn. Again she looked at Poe, but looking at him made what she wanted to say worse, she couldn’t look at him without crying and feeling guilty, but she needed to say it, at least the news of y/n, “it’s y/n.”

“You saw her?” Poe immediately interjected, with a small hopeful smile, that only dropped as Rey answered with disappointment.

“No...she....” she stammered, drifting her eyes to the floor as her lip quivered, “she-she”

“Rey? She’s what?”

Rey blinked up at Poe, with tears streaming down her cheeks and her frown only becoming deeper, she looked to Finn, and saw that he was getting what she was trying to get at, while Poe was stubborn and didn’t want to understand.

“Rey...she’s what?” Poe asked again with a crack in his voice.

“She’s—y/n”

“Don’t, Rey, please don’t.” Poe stammered with tears already stinging his eyes, tears he wasn’t letting fall. “Rey...”

Rey sighed, “y/n’s gone...I’m sorry.”

.

.

.

.

A/N- so I know that reading about pregnancy and all that makes some people uncomfortable, I’ll try not to you know overly mention it and write that fact off lightly. You know you as a reader will know but I won’t mention it all that much. It even makes me the writer a tad uncomfortable but I’m trying to differ every story from the others and step out of my comfort zone ;) Also, also that reveal, huh!! Palpatines a bitch and I know Mace Windu supposedly “died” but we didn’t really see it, so, I used him. Now it all makes sense.

Tagged- @jennibradley , @xxrouge-lexxx , @daniellajocelyn , @tweedlydumbtweedlydoo , @star-marvel-fangirl , @leilei-draws , @briesangel @lanatheawesome , @madamepsicose, @constantdisgrace , @1-800-depressedlesbian, @commondazy , @logiclies , @robindoesntloveme , @we-all-are-strange , @fandom-addict-aesthetics , @seninjakitey , @sarablog10 , @natalia-helena-alianova-romanov​    

[drethanramslay]

Can I request 15, 29, 38 for some naughty angsty Ethan x MC please? 😍🙏🏽

Thanks for the prompt Anon 💖

You can find the prompt list here.

#15-“How do you want to do this?”

#29-“Be quiet! You’ll get us caught!”

#38-“Nothing about us is conventional”

Warning: NSFW, smut, a little bit of angst, and it's kinda long

Author's note: Tumblr is being a bitch and not letting me add the read more tag 😔🤧 so forgive me.

Taglist: @miyakokurono @trappedinfandoms @openheart12 @sekizincimektup @junggoku @ethandaddyramsey @edith-eggs1 @ethanramseysgirl (let me know if you want to be added or removed from the tag list 😊)

🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹🔹

Leah stared at her reflection in the mirror, contemplating what to wear.

How do you even dress up for a party at the governor's mansion? Leah racked her brain but the dilemma still continued.

Since the day she treated the first son, the governor had a soft spot for Ethan and her. Today was her birthday and she had personally invited the two of them. It was eight in the evening and she had to reach there in half an hour.

Ah fuck it. She took the white halter back dress. It was simple yet exquisite. It was pinched at her waist and flared till her mid thigh. The dress dipped till her mid back, exposing her strong back muscles. Years of swimming for the nationals did that for you.

She was just wearing her diamond teardrop earrings which her mom gave, when her phone pinged. It was a message from Ethan.

E🦒- I'm reaching in five... Be ready

Leah sighed and slipped on her heels. There was palpable tension between the two which was getting harder to deal with. She knew it was driving him mad as well.

I mean, how many cold showers would he take when he decided that enough was enough?

As she reached the lobby, she saw Ethan's car waiting on the curb. She knocked on the window and Ethan looked up, giving her a breathtaking smile.

"Hey Dr. Ramsey. You clean up good." She smiled up at him, which made Ethan's heart beat faster.

"Hey Dr. Garcia. You look great." Ethan lamely responded. 'Great' didn't even encompass how truly stunning she looked. She looked like an angel, innocent and pure. The brown eyes that twinkled with excitement and dimples in her cheek was making him go crazy.

Oh lord, why do I have to put up with a case of blue balls everytime I meet her?

The ride was short and they talked, but it was hard to ignore the sexual tension which had been building up since weeks. There were instances, when Ethan's hand almost went and rested on her caramel thighs. He clenched the steering wheel till his knuckles were white.

It wasn't any easier for Leah as well. He looked delicious. The tux fitted him like a second skin. The bowtie just gave him brownie points. The way the the streetlights casted shadows on his strong jawline made her want to trace them with her fingers.

God, please give me the strength to not jump his bones this evening.

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The party was boring. It was way too extravagant for their taste. There were champagne fountains and ice sculptures. Ethan and Leah continued to bitch about how the rich people just waste money. The amount of money that has gone in this party, could have easily helped them treat ten patients in the free clinic.

But sadly, that's the harsh and bitter truth.

Socializing can get tiresome and Leah had already downed three glasses of champagne in the last half an hour. The only thing which made the entire ordeal tolerable was warm sensation of alcohol that was slowly seeping into her veins and Ethan's heated gazes.

They were seated on a round table, facing a stage where some woman was singing opera. Leah was seated between Ethan and a CEO of a bigshot company, who was getting chatty as his glass was being refilled with the amber liquid.

They were just making polite small talk, when she felt Ethan's leg brush against her bare leg. She looked at him from the corner of the eye, but he just wore an impassive expression, casually chatting with his neighbour. Leah narrowed her eyes.

Well, two can play a game.

As she continued to talk with her neighbour, she casually kept her hand on his thigh, and squeezed.

Ethan's eyes widened. "Are you okay Dr. Ramsey?" His neighbour asked.

He coughed, "Yeah yeah. Everything is perfect."

Leah continued her journey north, pausing to squeeze every now and then. Ethan waited with bated breath, when her hand was close to his dick, but she just drew her hand away and took a sip of her wine, smirking.

Oh this minx is going to have it. Ethan thought to himself, as he narrowed his eyes slightly.

A spoon clanked to the floor. "Oops, sorry." Ethan said, as he bent down to pick it up. Leah just side eyed him and turned towards the entree placed in front of her. She was about to eat her food when she felt his hand, sliding up her smooth calf, slow and tantalizing.

He came up with his spoon and gave an embarassed smile but, his hands continued their journey up. She widened her legs, under the table cloth, giddy with anticipation.

His hand never stopped. They caressed, squeezed and rubbed her until he reached her throbbing core.

Leah bit her lip, enjoying the feeling of his deft fingers rubbing her through her panties. The friction just over stimulated her pussy and she gripped the tablecloth tightly when she felt his fingers move her panties.

"Are you excited?" The CEO asked.

Leah's eyes widened and at that instant his fingers entered her dripping cunt.

"Mmmh-huh?" Leah controlled her moan.

"Are you excited to be part of the best diagnostics team? How's your boss?"

Well my boss has his fingers deep in my cunt..

"Ohhhh. It been..uh quite an experience." Leah managed to choke out. She glared at him, hoping that Ethan would get the hint and stop. But that just fuelled his movements.

Ethan smirked at his victory.

"Um, excuse me. I'm not feeling too well." Leah took his hand out of her and headed to the nearest bathroom.

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She was about to close the door when Ethan smoothly entered in and leaned back on the door, closing it.

Leah was breathing heavily and Ethan's eyes were dark. "How do you want to do this?" Leah asked as he slowly stalked towards the basin against which she was leaning.

"I have a couple of ideas." He said in a deep husky voice which made her squeeze her thighs.

"Go on then. Enlighten me."

"First, I am going to get you out of that pretty little dress you got there. After I have got you naked-" he pressed his growing erection against her core, eliciting a breathless moan from her."-and wanton-" He pinned her hands on either side and got his lips to the shell of her ear.

"- I'll drive you wild." He whispered, biting her earlobe. Leah gave a gasp and she gushed, her need intensifying.

He grinded against her core, and Leah gave out another moan, enjoying the friction. "I will keep getting you to the edge until you can't take it anymore. You will be begging for release."

"God Ethan. Fuck me now."

He gave her a smirk and crashed his lips against her. They kissed with heated fervour, not once backing down. He turned her around and pressed her against the sink, pushing her hair to one side.

His hands rapidly untied the knot of her halter dress. Her breasts spilled out of the dress and he grabbed both of them, massaging them. Leah was trying her best to keep it low but she just couldn't. With his hands playing with her breasts and him dry humping her from the behind, it was just too much.

Ethan kissed her neck and whispered, "Be quiet, sunshine. We will get caught." He sucked on her neck, hard and let it go with a pop.

Leah could see the bright red hickey on her neck through the mirror. He had staked his claim, which just yelled one thing.

Mine.

He unbuckled his belt with lightening speed and nudged her leg with his, so that she could spread them wide. She bent down and rubbed her ass against him. He grabbed the lacy material of her panties and ripped it off clean.

That is the hottest thing I have ever see.

She was getting impatient and fidgety which only earned her a slap on her ass. She squealed and Ethan gripped her waist, tightly.

Sheathing himself with a condom, he aligned himself against her. He slid himself against her slick folds, nudging her clit which made her close her eyes with the pleasure.

"Sunshine... I want you to keep your eyes open. Look at your reflection. Look at the expression you make when I am fucking you. The expression which drives me crazy." With that he plunged into her.

She opened her eyes but it was so hard. She caught a glance of her reflection. Her eyes were a shade of dark brown, her teeth had sunk into her bottom lip and there was a thin layer of sweat accumulating on her forehead.

She looked thoroughly fucked.

Ethan kept pounding into her. The sounds of skin slapping, was borderline obscene. His hands never stayed in one place. They wandered, from her breasts, down her stomach, to her cunt, teasing and pinching, slowly pushing her towards the edge.

He hit her sweet spot, which made her gasp loudly. "Right there baby... Right there."

Ethan obliged. She was now on the brink of falling apart.

"Come for me sunshine."

And she did. Ethan's hand reached to cover her mouth, so as to muffle the scream of pleasure she gave out. They both climaxed at the same time, in perfect synchrony.

After getting down from their high, he kissed her cheek and nuzzled against her neck. "Who would have thought... We would be fucking in the Mayor's mansion?" Ethan breathed out, laughing under his breath.

Leah chuckled, enjoying the soreness in her core. "Baby, don't you know? Nothing about us is conventional.”

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[thegildedlady]

A Simple Misunderstanding

“Alright, Dredgers! And...tall Dredger? Let’s get this show on the road.” Ciaragan felt the wind violently force its way out of her as a crate of slimy, bubbling dishwater was shoved into her arms. She rocked back on her heels as she struggled under the weight of the thing, and it was a wonder that her legs did not tangle up in the heavy layers of velvet and frilly silks of the “uniform” she was wearing. Steadily she calmed the soapy waters and made her way down the line, following a crew of Dredgers as they passed through a narrow, winding servants’ corridor inside the Iremoore Estate. It was a claustrophobic and stuffy place, never meant for the eyes of anyone important. Nevertheless, Ciaragan could scarcely believe she was here and was quietly thanking her lucky stars for the chance at something different. The former Bishop had known nothing but physical and psychological torture for as long as she could remember being in this accursed realm they called ‘Revendreth,’ and was still not fully convinced the scenario she found herself in was not some sort of elaborate trick.

She and her brother, Faervell, had been sold to the highest bidders as barely more than novelties- houses Iremoore and Redelav, respectively. She had slept 87 times since then, but Revendreth was not held to such feeble concepts as ‘night’ and ‘day’ so her measurements were hardly precise. Now the master of House Iremoore, Lord Andrei, was throwing some sort of banquet for the District’s most horrid bloodsuckers, and Ciaragan was expected to serve. She had been dragged from her cell in the estate’s dungeon, her skin scrubbed to the bone in an ice cold bath, and stuffed into this tacky garbage before she could muster a breath about what the hell was going on. The Dredgers were able to fill her in with the details, but it was still quite the culture shock. Why on Azeroth would they want me to pour their wine for them? I’ll poison the lot of them the first chance I can find…She thought to herself, eyes drilled into the floor as she marched along in time. This truly was her own personal brand of torment- a crowded ball where everyone is better than her. Feeling sorry for herself, Ciaragan released a shuddering sigh. It was going to be a long night. Still, she thought, better than the soul flayings.

Violins and other strings wailed out waltz after waltz as the guests of House Iremoore danced the night away. Ciaragan could barely make a single turn about the ballroom before having to refill every cup once more. She had managed to trade her dishwater basin for a silver and glass pitcher nearly sloshing over the edge with Anima-infused wine. Andrei and his friends guzzled Anima like men dying from thirst in the hot Uldum sun, with no concern for running out of stock. Dredgers buzzed along a logistical superhighway just out of sight of the party guests to keep the Anima flowing. Meanwhile, Ciaragan was lingering in the shadows of the waiter’s station, beyond the main ballroom and outside the kitchen doors.  Her patience was being tested as she waited for a fresh pitcher, tapping her foot anxiously. The Dredgers had mentioned to her that the master did not like to see the bottom of his chalice, and she feared she might not make it in time before he noticed. Finally the runner handed off her prize and she snatched up the pitcher, her feet already in motion. She hurried down the hallways, careful not to spill a drop. Emerging into the ballroom through a hidden door cloaked in velvet curtains, she found herself surrounded by Venthyr on all sides. They barely noticed her, already drunk on the essence of living souls they had since consumed that evening. Lord Andrei’s gold and crimson doublet sparkled in the crystal candlelight, allowing Ciaragan to spot him across the crowd. She tried to make her way around the perimeter of the room, but even that path was blocked with the heavy presence of the hedonistic gentry. Forcing her way through, Ciaragan could see her goal in sight. Just a few more steps, and-

-CRASH-

All of a sudden, her pewter pitcher and matching tray smashed into the back of a dark, brooding figure. The Venthyr all drew back as the tray clattered to the ground, the raucous soundtrack of party noise cut short by the loud clang of impact and the sizzling cymbal of a tray rattling to a stop. Ciaragan was knocked back onto her rump, but scrambled for her pitcher as it lay empty on its side and its precious contents spilled across the ballroom floor. The looming one she had bumped into slowly turned to face the disturbance, his face screwed up into an outraged snarl. “You little urchin. I’ll wring your neck. How dare you!”

Ciaragan felt a claw grip cut into her arm and jerk her from the floor, nearly pulling the whole limb out of place. The offended Venthyr held her aloft like a ragdoll, crushing her arm in his uncaring grasp. She could not stop a whimper from escaping her tight-lipped mouth, her teeth gritted in pain. Others were beginning to take notice of the unusual scene now, and a small crowd gathered. Ciaragan felt the burn of strange eyes upon her and wondered if she would die by humiliation or bludgeoning first. As she pondered this pleasant thought, she was interrupted by the dark baritone of a new voice stepping into the circle. “Why do you abuse this soul, Count Dvorok?” “This is no soul, this is Andrei’s mortal pet! She doesn’t seem to be fully trained yet…Ruined my new coat!” He growled with ire in his tone. “A living mortal?” Came the stranger’s reply. It seemed he had yet to encounter one of the Shadowlands newest arrivals. His eyes fell on where a left hand should be, but found a buttoned-up empty cuff in its place. Reaching out to examine her closer, he hummed “How bizarre…” under his breath as he took the sleeve between his fingers. Ciaragan ripped her arm back and away from his prodding. Her eyes were wide with fear, but her expression was more reminiscent of a trapped tiger than a scruffed housecat. It made the stranger take a step back himself. Before another sound could escape his lips, a familiar voice broke the tension with bone-chilling authority. “What’s going on here? Dvorok, what are you doing to my mortal? Release her immediately.”

Dvorok’s ashen gray face paled to a ghostly white sheet. “M-My Lord Andrei, I was-” He glanced over at the dangling Ciaragan before releasing his grip and letting her topple to the floor with a dull thud. Nursing her sore shoulder, she dared not raise her head to them unless commanded to. The stranger had been smart enough to break into a bow at the sight of his Lord Master, and was safe from his wrath, for now anyways. Andrei leaned casually on his bronze and ruby walking cane, his sights set on the unfortunate Count, who was trying (and slipping) at keeping his composure under pressure. “My Lord,” he continued, “this creature clumsily walked into me, spilling your Anima all over my new coat and ruining my conversation! I was simply-” “You were simply distributing punishment you had no right to give to a soul that doesn’t belong to you. Tsk tsk.” He shook his head slowly, drawing out the moment. 

“Your coat, was it? And what do I owe you for the damage?” “This coat cost me ten thousand rubies.” Count Dvorok replied in a small but determined tone. That number was large enough to give Lord Andrei pause… he looked between the offended Venthyr and his offensive mortal, pondering what judgement was most befitting a Lord of his standing. “What to do, indeed…” With a sweeping flourish of his ember orange cape, Andrei extended a clawed, gray hand to his fellow Venthyr. He presented his signature emblem ring of House Iremoore for the other to kiss, which Dvorok did willingly and with barely contained desperation. Andrei sneered down at him, ignoring Ciaragan for the time being.

“After considering the matter, I have decided to be merciful towards Count Dvorok for his indiscretion. Stoneborn, please escort the good Count to his carriage. This encounter and his ruined wardrobe has left him tired and… inappropriately dressed.” 

Two burly gargoyle-like creatures looped their stone arms through Count Dvorok’s, dragging him stumbling backwards out of Andrei’s sight. The crowd chuckled and applauded the scene before growing bored and returning to the night’s more interesting fare. It was just Ciaragan and Andrei now, and by the look on his face, an empty cup should be the least of her worries.

“You’re starting to become more trouble than you were worth, pet.”

“Lord Andrei, I must confess something to you.”

A familiar voice broke the violent tension. It was the same Venthyr who had come to inspect her before, only much more sheepish at the foot of his master. He knew the rules of the game, and that Andrei did not like them broken. Respect was everything to House Iremoore’s Lord. Lowering himself before Andrei was enough to take the fire off of Ciaragan, if only for another moment's delay. Andrei sighed, audibly voicing his displeasure at being interrupted yet again. “Well? Spit it out, Cazimir.” The one called Cazimir took a knee before his master, hands raised to him as if in prayer.

“My Lord, it is I who is to blame for this mess. I caused your mortal servant to offend Count Dvorok by pushing her into him. A simple misunderstanding! Lest I lose my good name as a member of your court, I must confess this truth to you, sir. I cannot allow such a pitiful creature to take punishment for me, for there are those who would say I am without honor for doing so. I beg your mercy, Lord Andrei, and offer my humblest apology,” he finished by rising to his feet and bending into a deep bow. The air stood still around them, as Andrei seemed a bit stunned by this sudden confession. The master of the house stroked his chin in contemplation, taking the time to formulate his reply as all other eyes were upon the three of them. The party could not, or would not continue without Andrei’s lead, and the room waited on baited breath to see what his next move was. 

“Pet, look this way.”

Ciaragan had hoped he might have forgotten her by now, but alas he had not. Steadying herself, she raised her chin towards Lord Andrei with that same stubborn ferocity Cazimir had witnessed before. Ciaragan had never made prolonged eye-contact with her captor until this moment. They were inky pools of darkness, with no luminosity or whites to be found within. In contrast, her glowing golden orbs shone all the brighter with her restrained fury. She hated him, and she wanted him to know that. Andrei’s lips curled slightly at each corner as he studied her face. He knew the extent of her hatred, and reveled in it.

What happened next occurred with such swift motion and genuine gracefulness, even the gathered crowd could scarcely catch a glimpse of it. Andrei tossed his gilded cane into the air, caught it by the heel, then proceeded to swing the rounded set-ruby handle right into the side of Ciaragan’s cheek with a resounding crack. The blow sent her tumbling to the floor once again. Hot blood splattered on Cazimir’s doublet and white lace collar, but the majority poured from Ciaragan’s ruined mouth. Many of the Venthyr looked on with wild-eyed, giddy fascination (who can resist dinner and a show?), but there were still few like Cazimir who seemed disturbed, if not at least put out by what they had just witnessed. Lord Andrei drew an ebony silk handkerchief from his pocket to coolly wipe the blood from the handle, unmoved by the violence he had just inflicted. 

“Better that a servant take the beating over one of House Iremoore’s honored guests. The matter is settled then! A Lord must keep his House in order, you know, or people start to talk…” Stuffing the hankie back in his pocket, Andrei resumed his leisurely stance. Ciaragan was still trying to clear her vision- the world was a blurry puddle of blood and teeth- she could barely make out much at all. Cazimir just stood in silence, arms at his sides, head bowed. He dared not make things any worse. 

Andrei yawned as he checked his pocket watch. As an afterthought, with a flick of his wrist, the damage done to Ciaragan was erased. Her vision steadied, and the heavy drip of blood that had been pouring from her lips was gone. He had healed her just as quickly as he had struck her down, but the pain lingered on like a bad toothache. 

“That’s quite enough sitting on the job for one evening, pet. Get back to work. And as for you, Cazimir…” Andrei crooned towards him. Cazimir’s head shot up to attention. He was several hands shorter than his Lord Master, whose dark figure loomed over him like the shadow of the sublime. “You should watch where you’re going at my court. Those who don’t tend not to last very long.” “Yes, my Lord.” Andrei turned without another word. He had spent enough breath and energy on interacting with people far below him for far too long. It was time to return to the guests he actually cared to converse with.

The crowd left at Andrei’s discretion and only Cazimir and Ciaragan remained together. She wasted no time following Andrei’s orders, returning to pick up her battered tray and pitcher. Everything in her mind and body wanted to be gone from this place, this scene, this party as fast as her legs could carry her. She felt Cazimir’s gaze on her back as she tried to keep her distance from him. As she crossed his path to return to the estate’s dark hallways, a split-second turn of the head caused her vision to fall upon his, their eyes meeting for the second time that night. His face was an ashen canvas of sharp Venthyr features and a look of pained sadness that betrayed his inner thoughts. The mistake was corrected as soon as she noticed, and Ciaragan did not give him the chance to say anything to her before she disappeared in a wave of heavy, burgundy, velvet curtains.

@pyrar for mention

[morwenna-crows]

Seasons of War: American Cover + Two Chapter Preview

The American cover for Seasons Of War was released today. 

There’s also a two chapter preview, which I’ve put under the cut, because long.

1.

Red candles, maybe a dozen of them. Brick walls. Lot of rafters, lot of shadows, lots of big, empty patches of darkness. Wooden floor. She was in a cellar, a big one, upright against something metal. She could feel the struts digging into her back. Her arms were over her head, wrists bound with rope. Ankles tied, too. 

Her tongue tasted sour. They’d drugged her. Her mouth was dry. She licked her lips. Her head was dull. She shot a little magic through her system and her mind cleared instantly. 

She wondered if her make-up had been smudged. She hoped it hadn’t. It had taken ages to put on. Her shoes were gone. Good. They were awful. She was still in the dress, though, the one that was too small and too tight and not very practical. It did have one thing going for it, however – the amulet of dark metal, in the shape of a skull, that fitted against her hip like some cool- looking clasp. 

She raised her head slightly, gave her surroundings a closer inspection through the hair that hung over her face. Pedestals displayed occult paraphernalia in glass cases like this was some- one’s idea of a black magic museum, and good quality – though obviously plastic – skeletons, dressed in rags, hung from shackles along the walls. The ground was sticky against her bare feet. She was positioned in the exact centre of a pentagram painted on the floorboards. She was pretty sure the dark stains had been made by copious splashes of blood. 

“She’s awake,” someone said in the darkness ahead of her. “Hey, she’s awake. Get the others.” 

The sound of feet on wooden steps, and then yellow light flooded in from above. A large shadow flowed across the light and then the cellar door closed and she was left with the flickering red candles and whoever had spoken. 

He came forward, out of the darkness. Dressed in a red robe with the hood up. 

“What’s your name?” he asked. His voice was gentle. American. Warm. 

“Valkyrie,” she said. 

“Valerie?” 

“Valkyrie. With a K.” 

“That’s a nice name. Unusual. Is it Irish?” 

“Norwegian.” 

“Oh. My friend said you were from Ireland.” 

“I am. My name isn’t.” 

“Ah.” He stepped a bit closer. She could see the lower half of his face, his square jaw and his even white teeth. 

“You’re probably freaking out right now. I get that. I do. You wake up, you’re in a dark cellar, you see satanic stuff all around, you probably think you’re going to be horribly butchered in some ridiculous human-sacrifice ritual, yeah?” He pulled his hood down and his smile broadened. “Well, that’s exactly what’s going to happen.” 

“I know you,” said Valkyrie. 

“Do you?” 

“You’re that actor,” she said. “From that movie. You’re Jason Randal.” 

“You want an autograph?” 

“How about a selfie? If you could just hand me my phone...” 

He laughed. “Oh, I like you. That’s an impressive response. Usually, the girls we sacrifice are full of panicked questions at this stage, like they think they can make sense of what’s happening. Like they can’t bring themselves to believe that they’re about to be murdered.” 

“What was that movie you were in, with the guy from The Big Lebowski?” 

Jason tilted his head slightly. “I haven’t been in a film with—” 

“No, you know the one. You both play dead cops who are still, like, solving crimes and stuff? You’re not zombie cops, or ghost cops, but... what’s it called? I want to say RIP, but...” 

Jason’s smile faded. “RIPD,” he said. 

“Yes,” Valkyrie said. “That was a terrible movie. Why did you make that?” 

He scratched his jaw. “That was Ryan Reynolds. You’re thinking of Ryan Reynolds.” 

“That wasn’t you?” 

“No.” 

Valkyrie frowned. “Are you sure?” 

“I think I know what films I’ve been in.” 

“I could have sworn it was you.” 

“Well, it wasn’t.” 

“It’s a terrible movie.” 

“I wouldn’t know. I haven’t seen it and I wasn’t in it.” 

“It’s bad.” 

“Then how about we stop talking about it?” 

“Are you ashamed of it because it’s so bad?” 

“I wasn’t in it.” 

Valkyrie looked at him. “Maybe if you had a better agent you’d get better movies.” 

Yellow light flooded the cellar and shadows moved, cast by the three people coming down the steps, all dressed in red robes. 

“Is the Master here?” Jason Randal asked them, annoyance pinching his words. 

“He’s on his way,” the woman in front said. Her name escaped 

Valkyrie, but these days she was always being cast as the girlfriend or the wife of the hero. A few years ago, however, she’d headlined a few movies herself. Not bad movies, either. The guy behind her, one of the stars of a dreadful sitcom Valkyrie had pretended to like, was the one who’d bought her the spiked drink in the crowded bar. She recognised the last person – an actor in a TV show she’d never watched who had a ridiculous name that she couldn’t remember. 

The woman had an amazing smile and incredible bone struc- ture and wonderful hair. It shone in the candlelight. “I take it Jason has explained what’s going to happen,” she said. 

“Don’t bother with this one,” Jason said, somewhat grumpily. “She’s not that bright.” 

Valkyrie ignored him. “I’m a huge fan,” she said. “Aw, thank you.” “That film where you were out for revenge on the men who’d killed your husband? That was brilliant.” 

“That’s really sweet of you to say so. I did a lot of my own stunts for that one.” 

“The fight scenes were excellent.” The woman smiled at the others. “Do we have to kill her? She has such great taste!” 

The others chuckled – all except Jason. He didn’t chuckle even a little bit. 

“We should do it now,” he said. The woman frowned at him. Victoria, that was her name. Victoria Leigh. “Before the Master gets here?” 

“It’s almost midnight. We’ll have to do it anyway, with or without him.” 

“The Master will not be pleased,” said the sitcom star. 

“Then the Master should be on time for the human sacrifice,” Jason snapped back. “The rest of us are all here, aren’t we? And we have careers. I have to be on set in two hours, and don’t you have an early call tomorrow?” 

“I do have an early call,” murmured the sitcom star. Victoria checked the slender gold watch on her slender pale wrist. “OK, fine, get everything ready to go. We’ll wait till the last second. If the Master arrives in time, excellent. If he doesn’t, we’ll do it ourselves on the stroke of midnight.” 

The others nodded and went off to fetch whatever they needed to fetch. Victoria stepped closer, though, brushing Valkyrie’s hair back off her face. 

“You’re a pretty one,” she said. “Not leading-lady beautiful, perhaps, but definitely girl-next-door pretty. And those shoulders! Good lord! Linebacker shoulders, that’s what we call them. I can see why Tadd picked you.” Her voice softened. “Was he respectful? I’ve warned him about this in the past.” 

“Pretty sure he was.” 

“Good. I’ve seen far too many girls being disrespected in my business and I’d hate to be a part of something that perpetuates this behaviour.” 

“Aren’t you lot going to murder me in a few minutes?” 

A little laugh. “I am aware of the contradiction.” 

“Good,” said Valkyrie. “Because I was worrying.” 

“I have to say... What’s your name?” 

“Valkyrie.” 

“Ah, from Norse mythology. Very nice. I have to say, Valkyrie, you’re surprisingly calm about this whole thing.” 

Valkyrie shrugged as much as she was able. “I don’t want to brag or anything, but I’ve been in worse situations.” 

“You have?” “It’s all worked out in the end.” “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I don’t think that’s going to happen tonight.” 

“We’ll see.” “Indeed we will, Valkyrie. That’s a great attitude to have. We will indeed see. So tell me, what brings you out to LA? Aspiring actress?” 

“Actually, I’m thinking of getting into stuntwork. I like being physical, you know? Throwing people around, crashing through windows, falling off rooftops... That’s my kind of thing.” 

“Oh, I admire stunt people so much, I really do. I know this great little team down in Glendale. Such a shame you’re dying tonight – someone as athletic as you, you’d have fit in perfectly.” 

“Can I ask you something? This Master guy you’re waiting on – who is he?” 

“You sure you want to know? Well, why the hell not – you won’t be telling anyone, right? He’s a sorcerer. He’s magic.” 

“Like one of those street magicians?” 

Victoria’s laugh was as pretty as her eyes. “No, no, not like those street magicians. I mean he’s actually, really, genuinely magic. He can move things just by waving his hands. He clicks his fingers and he’s holding a ball of fire in his palm.” 

“No kidding?” 

“I swear it’s true.” 

“And why does he make you sacrifice people?” 

“Well, he gets his power from Satan, you see. He’s Satan’s emissary here on earth. All of us in our little group, we’re the ones who sacrifice the girls and, as a reward, Satan grants the Master the power to fulfil our wildest dreams.” 

“Golly,” said Valkyrie. 

“I know.” 

“And does it work? Do your wildest dreams come true?” 

Victoria made a seesawing motion with her hand. “It’s not an exact science. We get a lot of callbacks during pilot season, a lot of interest from casting agents and directors... but really Satan just opens the door. It’s up to us to walk through.” 

“Right, right,” said Valkyrie. “So Satan is real, then?” 

“Oh, yes.” 

“Wow. And that’s all he asks for? Human sacrifice?” 

“Yes. And a commission.” 

“A commission?” 

“That goes to the Master. For living expenses, you know.” 

“So the Master gets a cut of whatever you make? How big a cut?”

Victoria hesitated. “Forty per cent.” 

“Seriously?” 

“But it’s worth it. Tadd wouldn’t have got that sitcom if it wasn’t for the Master, and I’m on a shortlist for the role of a wartime correspondent. It’s based on a true story and the script has a lot of buzz around it right now.” 

“Good luck with that one. I hope you get it.” 

“Thank you.” The others came back. Tadd held a candelabra of seven long- stemmed, unlit black candles, and the other one, the actor whose ridiculous name Valkyrie couldn’t remember, carried a box of polished oak. Jason Randal opened the box, and took out a long, curved dagger. The corners of his mouth lifted when he looked at Valkyrie. 

“We still have two minutes,” Victoria said. 

“She needs to be dead at midnight,” Jason responded. “I know the rules.” 

“We should do it now, to be sure she dies.” 

“We’ll do it at eleven fifty-nine. So long as you stab her in the heart, she’ll be dead in seconds. Light the ceremonial candles.” 

The ridiculously named actor put the box down and came hurrying over, digging through his robes. He produced a silver Zippo, flicked it open and ran the flint wheel along his thigh. It sparked to a flame, and he put the flame to the seven black candles. Tadd held the candelabra aloft. 

“The candles,” he said, “are lit.” 

“The dagger,” Jason intoned, “is sharp.” “The time,” Victoria said, eyes on her watch, “is now.” 

2.

Jason grinned and raised the dagger and then the seven candles went out. 

“Oh,” said Tadd. “Sorry.” 

Jason glared. “Relight them.” The actor with the ridiculous name flicked the Zippo open again, ran it across his leg again, and lit the candles again. 

Sheepishly, Tadd held the candelabra aloft once more. “The candles are lit.” 

Then they went out again. “For God’s sake,” Jason muttered. 

“Are you standing in a draught or something?” Victoria asked. “Move over there, and don’t hold them up so high this time. Come on, we’re running out of time. Relight them.” 

The actor with the ridiculous name flicked the Zippo open. “I swear,” said Jason, “if you run that up your leg one more time, I am stabbing you instead of this girl. Do you understand? Just light the damn candles.” 

The actor narrowed his eyes. “You don’t have to be a—” 

“Light the candles, Maverick!” said Jason and Victoria at the same time. 

Maverick. That was his name. Maverick Reels. What a silly name. Not that someone who’d called herself Valkyrie Cain could throw stones, but still. 

As Maverick fumbled with the Zippo, the cellar door opened and a man swept down the stairs. “Hail Satan!” he cried. 

“Hail Satan!” the others cried back. 

“Hail Satan,” Valkyrie added, just to be in with the cool kids. 

“Midnight is almost upon us!” said the Master, summoning fire into his hand and passing it over the candelabra, lighting each wick. “Why does this girl still live? Kill her! Deliver her soul to the Dark Lord!” 

“Voldemort?” Valkyrie asked, frowning. The Master pulled down his hood. He didn’t look like a Master. He looked like a mid-level office manager with a bad goatee. He peered at her. “Do I know you?” 

“Do you?” 

“I’ve seen you before.” 

“Have you?” 

“I’ve seen your photograph,” he said. 

“Where have you seen it?” 

“I’m trying to remember,” he said. 

“Think hard now.” 

“Stop talking.” 

“Maybe it wasn’t even me,” Valkyrie said. “Was it a photo taken in a burning city? Then it wasn’t me. It was a god who just looked like me.” 

His eyes widened. “Oh, no.” Valkyrie’s magic crackled, white lightning dancing around her wrists and ankles, burning through the ropes. 

Panicking, the Master grabbed the dagger from Jason just as one of the skeletons in rags stepped away from the wall and seized his wrist. 

“Let’s not do anything hasty,” Skulduggery said, and everyone in the little group of satanic worshippers screamed and leaped away as he punched the Master right on the hinge of his jaw. 

The Master’s knees buckled and he collapsed into Skulduggery’s arms, and Valkyrie broke free of the scaffolding holding her and followed the actors as they scrambled up the cellar steps. 

She caught Maverick just as the door crashed open, pulling him off the steps. He flailed madly and she ducked as he spun, then clocked him right on the chin. He stiffened and pitched backwards. Valkyrie left him there and ran after the others. 

She emerged from the cellar into an impressively big house – a movie star’s house. Lots of glass and exposed brick and open spaces. She followed the sounds of panic to the front door, where Jason and Victoria and Tadd were cursing each other as they tried to navigate the locks. 

They heard her coming. Tadd let out a roar and came charging. He was shorter than Valkyrie, and skinnier, and she stepped into him, stopping him with a shoulder. He staggered a little and her fingers curled into his hair and she smacked his face against the painting on the wall over and over until he fell down. 

Victoria ran into another room as Jason Randal dropped his robe and squared up to Valkyrie. He was big. He had muscles. He moved like he knew what he was doing, or he’d at least worked with fight choreographers – but when he threw the first punch it was stiff and awkward and badly judged, and it stopped a good hand’s length short of where it needed to land. He didn’t have a clue, and this wasn’t worth bruising her knuckles over, so Valkyrie blasted him with a little lightning that threw him back against the door. He fell in a crumpled, unconscious heap and she went after Victoria. She was standing in the huge living room holding a poker like a baseball bat. 

“This isn’t going to do me a whole lot of good, is it?” she asked after a moment. 

Valkyrie gave a shrug, and Victoria sighed, and put the poker down. 

“Was that an actual skeleton I saw downstairs, or was it some sort of special effect?” 

“It was a skeleton. He’s alive and he talks. His name’s Skulduggery.” 

“Of course it is,” Victoria said, and took a seat, wearily, on the couch. “So you’re a sorcerer, too, are you?” 

“Yep.” 

“You a Satanist also?” 

Valkyrie sat opposite, and crossed her legs. “That guy’s not a Satanist. None of us are Satanists. Magic has got nothing to do with religion. Those people you sacrificed? The devil didn’t collect their souls. Those people just died.” 

Victoria took a while before answering. “But then why did the Master tell us to do it?” 

“Well, seeing as how all this is about money, I’m guessing that in order to get the lot of you to really commit, the idiot you call Master made you kill a bunch of innocent people so you couldn’t change your minds and back out at a later date.” 

Victoria’s face slackened. “We didn’t have to kill those girls?” 

“Nope.” 

“But... but our careers... How did he—?” 

“There’s a trick sorcerers can do once they know the name you were born with. They can tell you to do stuff. Not big stuff, not life-changing stuff – he wouldn’t have been able to coax a whole lot of money out of you that way – but he could certainly have suggested to casting agents that it’d be a good idea to call you in for a second audition, things like that.” 

“Oh my God...” 

“Yep.” 

“What... what’s going to happen to me now?” 

“You’re going to jail.” 

“I should call my attorney.” 

“You won’t need an attorney,” said Valkyrie. “You’re going to one of our jails. All four of you will disappear. No one will know where you are.” 

“But my family... My fans...” 

“They’ll never see you again.” 

Victoria stared at her. “You can’t do that.” 

“By our estimation, you’ve murdered sixteen young women between the four of you. We might be wrong. You might have murdered more.” 

“But the Master told us we had to.” 

“Stop calling him Master. He’s just some low-level sorcerer who couldn’t be bothered doing the work of a real agent so he invented this Satanist thing to make some money out of you morons. And I don’t care what he told you. You had a choice. You could have chosen not to murder sixteen innocent young women. Obviously, that’s not the road you decided to go down.” 

Victoria sat forward, elbows on her knees, hands hidden by the voluminous sleeves of her robe, evidently processing what she could. “I can’t go to jail,” she said slowly. “I’m on a shortlist. That part could win me an Oscar.” She straightened up. She had a gun in her hand. “I’m really sorry.” 

Valkyrie raised an eyebrow, but otherwise didn’t react. 

“Sorcerers aren’t bulletproof, are they?” Victoria asked. 

“No, we’re not,” said Valkyrie. 

“I’m really sorry about this.” 

“Are you, though?” 

Victoria thumbed back the hammer. It made a pleasing little click. “I’m not the best shot in the world,” she said, “but I’m not bad, either. That revenge movie I was in? My firearms coach told me I was a natural. But, even if I were the worst shot in the world, I couldn’t miss from this range even if I wanted to.” 

“Oh, I bet you could if you tried.” 

“Will a gun kill your skeleton friend?” 

“Not that gun.” 

“Then I’ll just kill you.” 

Valkyrie tapped the amulet on her hip and the black suit spread outwards, covering her skin and her clothes, flowing down to her feet and to her fingertips before Victoria’s eyes could even finish widening. 

The gun went off. The bullet hit Valkyrie in the belly and she grunted, sitting forward slightly. She pulled the hood up as a second bullet struck her chest. Christ, that stung. Her fingers found the mask in the hood and she pulled it down and felt it turn solid over her face as Victoria stood and proceeded to empty the gun into her. Valkyrie wondered what the skull mask looked like today. 

Every time she pulled it down, it was slightly different than the time before. It was like Skulduggery’s façade in that way. Victoria’s final bullet hit Valkyrie in the forehead, making the mask reverberate. Valkyrie stood up. 

“I thought you said you weren’t bulletproof,” Victoria said quietly, the gun hanging uselessly by her side. 

“I’m not,” Valkyrie responded, brushing a squashed bullet from her chest. “The suit is. I was going to give you the option of leaving this house in cuffs, as opposed to unconscious, but...” 

“But I just tried to kill you?” 

Valkyrie shrugged, took the gun away from her. 

“Please,” Victoria said, “not the face.” 

“Sure,” Valkyrie said, and hit her in the face anyway. 

[silvereddaye]

In Born a Sith, how would Vader react if another Vampire (not Palpatine) tried to hurt/ kill/ kidnap/ harm Luke?

Vader sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. The Archives were useless. He had hoped to find something, anything, that might help him with Luke. But there was nothing about Sith children. There were pages full of how a Sith should wait until a prospective apprentice is older before they took the vow and were turned. But nothing about if a child was turn. He found it hard to believe it had never happened before.

He carried his books back to the front desk.

“No luck?”

Vader only glared at Jocasta Nu. She had been a Jedi, a holy knight and sworn enemy of the Sith. She should be dead like the rest of her filth, but she had turned traitor before Vader had slaughtered the knights. So she was not at the temple during the massacre. She had been spared and turned. He hadn’t bothered to remember her Sith name.

“I have a theory,” she said smoothly. “That perhaps changing a child is too dangerous and ends in death. Your son survived because his change was started in the womb. He was born already half Sith.”

Vader gave her a curt nod and was about to leave, but she spoke up again.

“I am not one for gossip, Lord Vader,” she said. “But I saw Darth Liveed flying out towards your palace at the noon bell—“

He didn’t wait to hear what else she had to say. He was storming out of the Archives. It was nothing. A coincidence. Liveed was merely flying that direction … There was nothing else in that direction. Vader’s palace was on the other side of the mountains from Coruscant. It sat next to the mouth of the Metellos River where it met the sea. The Empire’s main military and naval base was located there which Vader oversaw and commanded. And Liveed was not a Sith under Vader’s command. He was not associated with the military. So why was he …

Devastator wasn’t rules when Vader arrived at the dragon barn. Vader strokes her about to soothe her while the attendants saddled her up. She could sense his anger and irritation. She was ready to fight. When the attendants were done, Vader climbed on and they took off. Vader did not need to give any command to make haste to his palace. Devastator already knew.

— — — —

Luke sat at his small desk in his father’s study. Father was currently away at the capital but should return before night. Perhaps if Luke made good progress, he could ask if Father would take him to see the dragons. It had been some time since Luke had seen the dragons. It was one of his few joys he found here. 

He heard the sound of heavy boots marching down the hallway. Luke perked up to look like he was deep in thought, but he wasn’t actually reading the words in his book. A chill ran up his back and the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. There was a tightness in his chest. Why was he feeling this? 

 The steps were approaching, and that was when Luke realized the steps weren’t . . . right. He knew the sound of his father’s boots. These steps were too close together. Not heavy enough. Luke turned in his seat just in time to see a figure enter the study. It was not his father. 

It was a man. He was tall and lean with black hair and odd dull tan skin. He wore black leather tunics that were layered across his chest in a V-shape. A silver sword hilt with no blade hung on his belt. A crooked smile grew slowly on his lips as he looked at Luke. 

“Well, well. Here is the little Vader brat. I was expecting something more, but I see now. You’re just a small scrawny rat,” the man said. 

Luke slowly stood up. The man walked to the room, or it was more like he slinked into the room like a predator. Golden eyes flickered in the candlelight. His smile showed off two pointed fangs. He was a Sith. He had never met another Sith before. 

The Sith stopped a small distance from Luke. Luke pressed himself against his desk. The wooden edge digging into his back. The Sith was still smiling as he loomed over the boy. Then quick as a viper, his hand snatched out and grabbed Luke’s chin. His cold fingers dug into the skin. It hurt, and so Luke tried to pull away. The fingers dug deeper into his skin. 

“Look at me,” the Sith hissed. Luke did. The black in the eyes were like slits. “You . . . You are the prince? Third in line to the throne? You?” The fingers were digging in deeper. Luke could feel his skin being sliced open. The smell of blood instantly filled the air. “How pathetic,” he spat. 

His hand ripped away and Luke’s hand jerked to the side. Luke whimpered and brought a hand up to his face and gently pressed his fingers against the new weeping wounds. His fingers were wet with his blood. 

The Sith let out a sharp laugh that sounded like a bark. “It is a shame the others didn’t join me. They would have loved to see this . . . THIS child! Maybe I should take you back to the capital? Hmmm? You’ve never seen the throne you have a claim to? Shall we go see it?” 

Luke tried to move away, but the Sith grabbed his arm. Luke yelped as the grip tightened. 

“I will enjoy throwing you at the feet of our Emperor and watch as his face contorts into sweet disappointment. No wonder Vader has been hiding you. Now come.” 

The Sith pulled Luke out of the room and down the hall. The boy looked around for guards, for a servant, for anyone or anything. But there was no one. The Sith’s grip was iron tight and cold. He recognized the path they were taken. They were going to the dragons. Tears built up in his eyes. He didn’t like this. 

The door blew open without the Sith even touching it. He could use the Force. The wind was cold and sharp as they walked onto the balcony. Luke could see the stone bridge that connected the palace to the dragon caves. However, there was a dragon already on the balcony. It was already saddled and let out a screech as they approached. The dragon looked odd. It looked like a TIE dragon, but it a bit smaller and more of a light grey than the ones he was used to seeing. Luke tried to pull away, tried to wiggle free, but like his father, the Sith held tight. They had just reached the dragon when a loud screech filled the air. 

A shadow fell over them. There was the flapping of wings. The Sith’s dragon pulled away from them. It’s head reared back and hissing as another, much larger dragon descended upon it. Teeth and claws dug into the smaller dragon. Red blood spilled on the stone tile. 

“Liveed!” a voice shouted. 

Luke looked up to see a figure descending from the heavens. His father landed with a solid thump, his sword in hand and already the blade was burning red. His teeth were bared and his fangs were long. 

“Vader!” the Sith said as he pulled out his own hilt. A red blade hummed out of it. “I came to meet the little prince! Little is an apt description.” 

Vader’s eyes lingered on Luke. Then they darted up to Liveed. He growled, “I will you give this one chance. Let my son go.” 

Liveed threw Luke aside, and the boy fell to the ground. Vader wasted no time. He charged forward, his blade swinging, and Liveed’s blade met it. The blades hummed and hissed as they struck against it. Luke crawled away towards the palace. He grabbed at the thick door and pulled himself up. He twisted around just in time to see his father pushing his red blade into Liveed’s chest. The other Sith was wide-eyed with terror as the blade went deeper and deeper. 

The body slunk to the floor, and Liveed’s blade flickered out. The hilt fell from his hand and clinked against the tile. Vader barely paused as he pulled the blade out and stomped over to Luke. Luke whimpered and squeezed his eyes shut. He could feel his father’s rage. It burned but it was cold. A sharp searing cold that grew closer and closer. 

“Luke,” Vader said. His voice the same as always. Deep and booming. “Luke. Look at me.” 

Luke curled up in a tight ball. He felt a hand on his back. A hand grabbed his arm. But it wasn’t the tight steel he was used to. It was gentle as Vader pulled Luke to him. Large arms wrapped around him, but Vader’s body was still tense. Still hard. 

“It’s ok, Luke,” Vader said softly. “It’s ok.”

[mollymauk-teafleak]

A Stranger in a Crown (part two)

Please consider leaving a comment on Ao3! It really means a lot and god damn this took a long time to write

Huge thanks to my betas @minky-for-short and @spiky-lesbian! Love you both!

Trigger Warnings: Discussion of a Juno/Diamond past relationship and all that implies, references to drug and alcohol use, references to suicidal thoughts. But! Happy ending guaranteed!

--------

The waiting was the worst part.

Juno almost wished the queen would just tear him to pieces in front of the entire ball and have done with it, throw as many bottles at him as she liked. They’d shatter so prettily on the parquet floor. They could call them a feature and before the month was out, broken glass would litter the floor of every noble ballroom on the planet.

Even that would be better being yanked to her side as soon as he came within reach, black dirt from the garden still clinging to his heels, with not even a word. Just the black fury seeping out of her skin and staining the air between them, the set of her jaw that fired old instincts to run and make himself as small as possible and hope the storm would pass. She marched him around like that for the hour that remained of the party, like a dog on a leash. Juno took the hint and kept quiet through the painful conversations with dignitaries and councillors, all pretending not to see just how hard the queen was gripping the princess’ arm or the depths of volcanic rage clearly showing through the cracks in her make-up.

And, as the grand clock that still worked on real gears and springs like in the olden days chimed out the first hour of the new day, those guests not yet rendered completely useless by drink all stood to attention, waiting politely. Juno felt eyes pierce his skin in little pinpricks and he swallowed hard, looking down.

They were waiting for the announcement. This was the ball to celebrate his betrothal, after all, and there was still one role left conspicuously unfilled. This was the last chance and of course it only made sense for the queen to leave it until this last moment, the perfect flourish, only right and proper.

But Sarah Steel only clenched her teeth tighter and made a dismissive gesture to the herald, signalling the end of the ball. A ripple of surprise and confusion ran through the crowds still left on their feet, murmurings bubbling up as the queen marched Juno from the hall without so much as a closing pronouncement, Benten running after them and only just slipping through before the heavy doors boomed shut.

Well, Juno thought bitterly, at least they’d have something to talk about on the journey home.

It was clear immediately that they weren’t going to the twin’s room. Apparently Juno had fucked up so bad that this dressing down could only take place in the throne room, dark and silent now but for the intense lights that were always kept on, framing the throne itself.

It was an undeniably beautiful thing. Made of silvered wood, the kind that only grew on Harpyia, so it glowed with a faint bioluminescence, it was carved in the shape of vines thick with butterflies. The wings of each and every tiny insect was inlaid with jewels and rich pigments that hadn’t faded with the years. When the queen sat on it to hold court, looking like some mystical creature of the forest, the kind that were said to have lived on Harpyia in its earliest days, she was equally as beautiful. But she never looked further away from his mother.

It just looked imposing now, with the vast hall around it empty but for the three of them, their footsteps echoing on the floor, the queen’s determined and purposeful, Juno’s dragging, Ben’s hurried and frantic.

Eventually, she let him go, once they were at the foot of the small stairs that lead to the platform, perfect for the ruler to look down from. Juno was overbalanced when she stopped him and almost fell, the heel snapping off his shoe in his attempt to right himself.

“Juno,” she snapped, as Benten rushed to help him but was stopped in his tracks by a flick of her fingers, “What is that?” Her other hand snapped out to point up the stairs.

Juno didn’t understand, trying not to visibly shake even with the panic rising, “I...I don’t…”

“What is that?” she repeated again, more force in her voice.

“The throne?” Juno guessed, feeling his pulse behind his eye. His instincts shouted at him to please her, to do or say whatever it took to calm her anger, but it was so hard to do that when he didn’t know where she was going.

“Exactly,” her voice dripped with sarcastic praise, a parody of a schoolteacher with a young child, “And what exactly does that throne mean, Juno?”

Juno shook his head, mouth opening and closing as he tried to think of an answer that would pacify.

“No answer for me, little monster? Not a single word on what this throne, with all its history and all the people depending on it, means to you? But you still claim to be my heir.”

Juno felt tears burn in his eye. He hated this, he hated that she could still do this to him, that he’d never been allowed to be anything other than a child no matter what he looked like on the outside or what they also paradoxically claimed he was ready for.  

“I’m sorry…”

Sarah shook her head, no interest in hearing it, “I know you had your reservations about tonight but I thought you were willing to make the sacrifice for our planet and our people. I thought you’d listened, all the years I did my best to raise you so you’d be ready. I forgave your embarrassing lapses, telling myself that you’d grow up one day and you’d see…”

“I left for an hour, that’s all!” Juno burst out, unable to swallow the unfairness of it all.

“An hour,” the queen raged at him, “An hour plus five years of dragging your feet, turning back fine suitors I would have killed for when I was your age, ignoring your responsibilities while we’re recovering from a goddamn war.”

Juno trembled, now it was the truth of what she said that burned, “I...I’ll do it, I’ll pick someone…”

“Too little and too goddamn late,” the queen snarled, “Ever since you two were born I’ve had to do this on my own and shield you from the wolves at our door. Keeping a broken country running while people like the Kanagawas lick their lips and eye us, dodging the snakes in my own palace. All on my own. No one will take that throne from me when I have worked myself hollow for it, not Min Kanagawa, not Lord Takano, not my own selfish little princess. Do you hear me?”

“Jack…” Ben murmured, frowning, but he may as well have been on a different plane of existence to Juno, who could only see the queen.

“Mother, I…”

“No,” she shook her head, nearly dislodging the grand crown from her head, having to stop and fix it before centuries old gold and diamonds could clatter to the floor, clinging to it like the shadows she saw might rip it away at any moment, “I tried, Juno. Know I tried to work with you and give you some agency in this. I tried so hard…”

Tears that hadn’t been there a second ago were suddenly visible in her eyes, shining like the gems she gripped so tightly. Juno jolted, seeing his mother standing before him, the mother who had told him stories about the harpies and the butterflies, who’d kicked away her shoes after endless balls and dinners and galas, exhausted, and sat between her sons’ beds to make them laugh with court gossip and the antics of drunk rich people. But then she blinked and was gone, only the queen remaining, cold eyed.

“I received a message two days ago, one I wasn’t going to share with you but you’ve left me no choice, Juno,” she spoke with as much ice in her voice as in her gaze, “Diamond put forward a request for consideration as your spouse. And I will accept.”

Juno felt the oxygen leave him all at once, like the floor had disappeared out from under him “No…”

“Mother, you can’t!” Ben sobbed out, horror on his face.

“The bride price they offer far outstrips anyone else’s, even the Kanagawas,” the queen continued like she couldn’t see them, sounding rehearsed all of a sudden, like she’d been practicing this in her head all night, “Their family is powerful, with influence that, true, others could match and exceed but it comes from within Harpyia itself. We could become stronger. We can’t make our little rock any bigger but goddamn it, we can make it something to be reckoned with. And marrying them will give us that. That’s all they ask, Juno, just you, nothing else.”

Juno couldn’t hear her, he was spiralling, unable to hear anything through rushing air and the throb of old bruises, “Please...mother, please…”

“After everything they did to Juno?” Ben’s tears were falling thickly, dripping onto the shadowed floor, “How they hurt him? How can you be so heartless, mother...”

The queen turned the full force of her glare on him, “I am doing what needs to be done to save this planet. As apparently you and your brother won’t.”

Juno had seen Ben angry before, it had always looked so out of place on his sweet, gentle face, so clearly made to smile. And this kind of wounded, aching fury looked even more strange.

“You have no idea how much he does,” getting the words out was a struggle, his voice tight as a drum, brimming with the anger of a child who has been lied to, “No idea.”

And he turned and fled the room, fled the shadow of the throne, his tears leaving a trail on the floor.

Juno looked but couldn’t find enough of himself to call to him or run after him as he wanted to. He was too busy hearing angry voices that he’d told himself he didn’t remember, words he’d thrown and words that had struck him. He was remembering how the blows had come without warning, every time, as he’d broken rules he hadn’t known existed. He was remembering a year of nothing but fear and hate, when the way out had been behind him the whole time but he’d never looked.

The queen wasn’t wrong. Diamond had been- and apparently still was- a figure of power in Harpyia, even if it was a kind of power that most wouldn’t look too closely at. There had been an official face of their family, a good name, structure and commerce as the scaffolding to the true reason why the heads of much older, more wealthy nobles bowed when they entered the room. They were part of Harpyia’s foremost organised crime family, one of the many that bred in the poorest parts of the city. But this monster had gorged itself during the war, pulling the right strings and putting money in the right places to grow and swallow others until they were the largest and richest and, as far as they were concerned, only. Diamond was their heir, the first born into the prestige and respect their dealings had acquired.

And didn’t they know it.

Juno had been fascinated since the first day he saw them, at a party much like that night’s disastrous one. And they had been fascinated with him in turn, bringing him close, making him feel seen in a way no one else did. Diamond hadn’t cared that he drank, that he did drugs, that he harboured so much black resentment in his heart. They’d listened to the things he couldn’t even tell Benzaiten, taking Juno’s chin in their fingers and promising the world was so much bigger, telling him everything he wanted to hear, feeding the bitterness and despair inside him even while Juno had believed he was happier than he had ever been. With Diamond, things had made sense. Juno hadn’t needed to face the questions and panicky chaos inside him because all he’d had to do was listen to Diamond. Diamond became everything.

And when Sasha, Mick and Ben had protested, saying it wasn’t right the way they treated him, the way they controlled him, that he’d been so close to getting clean before he’d met them and now he was in deeper than ever, Juno had felt sorry for them because they didn’t understand. They didn’t understand how happy he was.

Realising how wrong he was had been like shattering to pieces on jagged rocks hidden by the surface of the sea. The queen had exiled Diamond, banning him from the palace, once Benten and Sasha had brought her enough evidence of how he was abusing the crown princess. She hadn’t said that was why, of course, she wasn’t going to put her heir’s scars on display. But it wasn’t as if there was a shortage of legitimate reasons for their fall from the royal graces, they’d just been ignoring them up until now.

Putting himself back together and climbing back up the cliff face had been twice as painful as the breaking but he’d done it, in time for coming of age. And he’d actually started to be proud of himself.

And now he was falling again. As easily as that.

“We will announce your betrothal tomorrow,” the queen kept talking like Ben’s outburst hadn’t happened, “Diamond not being present at the ball will give us a good excuse for why we didn’t do so tonight and silence any gossipers. God knows some of them are bound to have seen you stumbling out of the gardens with mud on your skirts. There’ll be stories breeding like rabbits all through this palace. But this will set it to rights. This...this will fix everything.”

If Juno had been looking, if he’d been able to see or think or feel in that moment, he’d have heard the crack in her voice on the last word. He’d have seen another flash of his mother, looking as scared as her son did in that moment. He’d have seen a child in a crown, looking at the shadows on her bedroom wall and trembling in terror.

But he couldn’t. So he didn’t.

A guard must have been summoned to lead him to bed because the next time Juno could feel his heartbeat and the air moving in and out of his lungs and the wilted silk against his skin, he was leaning back against his bedroom door.

Growing up with the only space that was truly theirs being full of antiques and priceless, ancient furniture had been strange. There’d always been a disconnect, like their ancestors would come haunt them if they left a jacket on a thousand year old chair or something. So they’d tried to leave as much of a mark as they could, if only a removable one. There were posters on the wall and you could neatly divide the room by which brother owned which half, just by which bands and streams were represented where. Their clothes were chosen for them, for the most part, but in here they could wear sweatpants and soft jumpers and simple t-shirts and throw them on whichever part of the floor they pleased. Old toys they couldn’t bear to throw away were in boxes at the corners and there were books everywhere that would never be allowed in the palace libraries. They’d managed to give it the veneer of actually having two twenty two year olds living in it.

And Juno had always felt a little bit safer here. So now he was inhaling the smell of Ben’s hairspray and the cheap barbecue chips he was unapologetically addicted to and even the funk of their unwashed socks, he could think more easily. He could leash the panic and start to think.

And, as it had been all his life, his first thought was to make sure Ben was okay.

Juno waded into the room, taking off his dress and letting it fall carelessly, shedding everything that would remind him of the last ten minutes. He quickly dressed in something comfier, pyjama bottoms patterned with characters from a cartoon he hadn’t watched since he was six, a loose top that hung off his shoulder. He shed all the jewellery like a snake changing it’s skin, leaving it all on the dresser though the more expensive pieces would need to go back in the vaults or back on display. His lady in waiting, Rita, would sort that out in the morning, she was good at keeping him on track.

The tiara should have gone with it all but, somehow, when he had it in his hands, he couldn’t let go. Instead he gazed at it for a moment, seeing his own face, puffy with tears and streaked in makeup, fractured and repeating over and over in the jewels.

What had Peter Nureyev seen in that face?

The more he thought about it, the more it felt like a dream. All he had to tell himself it was real was the dirt on his broken shoe and the memory of those other hands holding this tiara. Not much to hang a promise on.

But no, not now. Benten. Find Benten and comfort him, somehow. Tell him what had happened in the garden, tell him that everything would be okay, that he’d find a way to fix it all, even if it tasted like a lie. Then...then Juno didn’t know.

He didn’t have to look far at all, as it happened. He was putting the tiara down on top of his dresser when the door behind him opened. Still tense and bad memories clinging to him like burrs, Juno jumped, having to swallow down a scream but it was only Benten. His suit, done in colours to compliment Juno’s dress, was rumpled and had clearly gone beyond its natural lifespan, his make-up shedding from his face. Juno vaguely recalled a time when they’d been jealous of their mother, getting to go to all these wonderful parties that sounded so magical.

In the same instant, after a moment of looking at each other and feeling each other’s exhaustion, both of them spoke in perfect synchrony, “I need to tell you something.”

They had to smile a little at that, despite everything. Juno held out his fist with a questioning expression and Ben grinned tiredly, answering with his own. Three taps, Juno threw scissors and Ben threw rock.  

“You always do that,” Ben observed distractedly.

Juno wasn’t going to point out that it was deliberate, motioning him to sit on his bed while he sat across on his own, “What do you need to tell me?”

Ben didn’t hesitate, setting his shoulders and looking directly into Juno’s eye, “You need to marry Mick.”

Juno was the one who couldn’t bear to hold his gaze, who couldn’t watch a man still half a boy give up nearly everything that made him happy with not a waver in his voice. He looked at his hands instead, clenched tight enough to turn his knuckles white.

“Benten...we’re not doing this…”

“Juno, it’s the only way. Everything mother said, everything about why she’s...doing this. Mick’s got all of that, his family’s here on Harpyia, they’re powerful. And Mick isn’t a goddamn abusive psychopath. We can take it to her before it’s too late and...and hell, even if she doesn’t agree, if we go and just do it she can’t argue and you’re safe-”

“Ben, I said no, this isn’t an option!” Juno protested, heart thudding hard enough to make him feel sick. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go, I’m supposed to keep you safe, not drag you down into it with me.

“Juno, it took you so long to get away from them, I won’t let you throw yourself away like that. It was bad enough when mother was marrying you off when you didn’t want to be but now...god, I don’t even want to think about what they could do to you.”

“But Benten…” Juno didn’t see how there were any tears left in him but his eye was wet all the same, “Mick is yours.”

His little brother, who he’d always seen as his little brother despite the mere half an hour between them, who he’d always admired for managing to hold his smile when it seemed impossible, who’d always believed in the best of people after so many had tried to prove him wrong, who’d shown more bravery in his optimism than anything that tried to take it away from him, he smiled with the sadness of someone so much older.

“Juno, he’s never been mine.”

And he understood then how it must have felt, to fall in love with one of your best friends, to find someone who understood you so completely and made you feel safe. And to also know they could never be yours, not really. Not in a way that anyone else would ever recognise. Because of something as insignificant as half an hour.

“It was nice to pretend and...and thank you, for everything you did, covering for us and all the times we switched clothes halfway through a party so I could dance with him twice,” Ben laughed but it was a hollow sound, like a recording of his usual laugh, “Remember that?”

“You always wore everything better than me,” Juno murmurs, his fingers numb now with how hard he was clenching his fists.

“But...Juno, you being safe and whole and...and well, maybe not happy but, god, not living in fear of your life, that matters more to me than playing pretend,” Ben turned a bracelet around his wrist over and over again, “And Mick...maybe it’s for the best. It’s not going to hurt any less the longer it goes on, right? And I meant what I said to Mother, you’ve already sacrificed everything. If I can help you with this one thing then...then at least it’s a start to making up for everything you’ve had to do.”

Juno looked up at him, voice soft, “Benzaiten…”

His brother coughed slightly, clearly it was becoming more difficult to keep his tears as the lump in his throat, “You know, I found it hard to get until those nights, where I’d become you and you’d become me. When the guests all thought I was you...they treated me so differently. They looked at me like they were waiting for something, like they expected something from me and every second I didn’t do it, I was a disappointment. But I didn’t even know what they wanted! I felt that weight on my shoulders you must feel every second of every day and...god, it was awful. I’d always resented the way I didn’t matter if you were in the room, I never wanted to say it but I did, deep down. I used to hate being the spare. But after five minutes of being you, I’d much rather be invisible than carry that weight on my own.”

“You’ve never been invisible to me,” was all Juno could think to say, “To Sasha or Rita. And definitely never to Mick.”

Ben looked grateful that he’d said that, it seemed to give him the strength to swallow and say, “Let me make the weight a little smaller, Juno. It’s all I can do.”

A small part of Juno he didn’t want to believe existed whispered how easy it would be. Depending on how much was already agreed between her and Diamond’s family, the queen might be furious but Ben was right, the Mercury name had everything Diamond’s did but with more legitimacy, she’d have to forgive them in time. And Mick was kind. He would never do anything unless Juno asked. And, in time, after the performance and the heirs and spares the kingdom demanded, maybe he’d even become fond of him in a way he wasn’t right now. Maybe he’d have something like love in his life. He’d never have to find out what was in the galaxy he could see as points of light in the darkness, he’d never have to risk anything. He could stay in this broken system that had hurt him so much already and try and scratch something good out of the poisoned earth. But he’d know where he was and who he was.

It was more tempting than Juno wanted to admit.

But he was an older sibling, down to the bone, it was the only part of himself he’d ever been proud of. And he wasn’t about to watch Ben make such a sacrifice for him.

Not when there was a chance they could do something together.

Juno stood and moved to Ben’s bed, sitting beside him and putting an arm around his shoulders. The dam burst then, as he’d known it would, his brother weeping against his neck while he held him tight and rocked him gently. He had a vague memory of their mother doing something like this for them, when they would skin their knees or a favourite toy broke or when she would have to go away for a while. But after she’d changed, after the mask had become impossible to tell apart from her real face, Juno had become the expert in making his arms feel like a shield.

Eventually Ben ran dry and he was just leaning against him, sniffling softly, “So you’ll do it? Please?”

“No,” Juno said simply.

Ben growled in frustration, shoving him away, “For fuck’s sake…”

“Will you give me a second?” Juno sighed, catching his hands and holding on to them, “Let me explain. I won’t marry Mick. But I won’t marry Diamond either.”

Ben frowned, eyebrows knitting together, “What…”

And Juno told him everything. How he’d been in the middle of a panic attack when Rex Glass had appeared like a fairytale prince, taking him outside. He told him about the kiss, the jewellery in his pockets. And he told him about the offer, about the tiara.

Well, he told him almost everything. He kept Nureyev’s name as Rex Glass, realising what a gift it had been to hear his real name. Juno Steel kept his promises where he could.

By the time he was done telling it all, Ben was looking at him like he’d looked at him the fair few times Juno had snuck back into the palace, steaming drunk, and collapsed over his legs just before dawn rambling about nonsense.

“Juno, that sounds fucking insane,” Ben said warily.

“It does,” Juno nodded, “But just because something sounds insane doesn’t mean it is.”

“Well no, but it’s a fairly good indicator…”

“If you don’t believe me, go check the queen’s jewellery box. You and I both know her bedroom and her office are the most fiercely guarded places in the palace, especially after the night I lost my eye. You know she’s been tripling security nearly every month, Sasha told us so. If Glass isn’t who he says he was- I mean, the second time around- then there's no way her jewellery would be missing, right?”

Ben absorbed that, nodding slowly, “Yeah. Yeah, I guess.”

“Then go see,” Juno spread his hands, “Go see, come back and tell me.”

Ben seemed to come back to himself more, now that he had a task to complete and a mystery to intrigue him. He jumped up almost eagerly, throwing off his ballroom attire much like Juno had, not really caring for it’s crumpled finery. Rita would have a fit the next day, Juno knew, she took the abuse of any pretty fabric as a personal offence.

Once he looked like Benzaiten again and not Prince Steel, he made for the door, only freezing right at the last moment, when his hand was on it.

“Ben?”

“I’m just…” he chewed on his lower lip, “I’m not sure I want to see mother right now. I don’t want to pretend like everything’s okay with her after...after what she said…”

When you said something so many times, when you fell into comfortable, familiar patterns of speech, you often missed your own eccentricities. But one thing that Juno noted every single time it happened was how, to him, Sarah Steel was the queen and, to Ben, even now, she was mother.

She had two faces, that was the commonly whispered gossip in the quieter corners. When they said it, they were referring to how quickly her moods changed, how she could be their wise, benevolent queen one minute and, the next, the paranoia would show and she would become someone much more sinister. Juno wondered if they knew how right they were in their idle gossip.

The problem was Juno only saw the queen, cold and fiery by turns, focused only on securing their future and making their people safe in her misguided ways. Ben could still see their mother, who loved them and shared her secret jokes with them and did everything to protect them. And neither of them were wrong and neither of them were right. But how could you see something that was turned away from you?

Juno sighed softly, “Benten, I don’t want to make things difficult for you…”

Ben set his jaw, stopped his quivering lip, “No. You know what? If I see her, I’ll tell her the exact same thing. I’ll tell her she’s wrong to do this to you. And if she doesn’t like it then she can be mad.”

Juno’s mouth tugged up at one end and he felt a warm glow in his chest that, after everything he’d been through that night, was like balm on an angry burn, “Just don’t get yourself grounded.”

Ben wasn’t gone for very long, all of their bedrooms were in the same royal suite. But it felt even shorter than it was, with Juno thinking about the kiss Nureyev had left him with. A silly thing to focus on, when so much was at stake, but it soothed him. The way he’d been held, the way he’d been able to be the small one who’d needed comfort. The way Nureyev had kissed him like there was nothing else he’d rather be doing. The way he’d looked at him after they’d drawn apart and Juno knew he was seeing him. Him, not the dress or the jewels or the tiara or the name. The way Mick looked at Ben, the way Juno had always been so jealous of because he’d known he could never have it.

But there it was. And Juno just couldn’t let it go.

Then Ben was crashing through the door, eyes wild, and his thoughts were interrupted, “It’s gone! Every single one, just like you said! And I asked the guards, they have no idea, no one’s come in or out!”

Juno breathed a sigh of relief that he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. He realised then that he had no clue what he’d have done if the jewellery had been there and it really had all been a dream. He’d just believed, completely and utterly, in Peter Nureyev and never imagined he might have been lying.

That was new.

“Mother’s going to go apeshit…” Ben was shaking his head in amazement, like a puppy with burrs in it’s ears, “Your thief better be coming back before she realises or he’s going to get his head put on a spike…”

“Come on,” Juno rolled his eye, “She’s not gone that far yet...was she there?” He had a sudden sense of having very little time, like Diamond might come knocking at the door at any moment.

Ben paused in his frantic amazement, frowning a little, “Actually she was still in the throne room. Shouting at someone. Jack, I think.”

Juno felt like he should be more concerned about that but he was too busy feeling the kind of hope he’d thought had died around the age of seven.

“I can’t believe this,” Ben flaps his hands in front of his face, pacing back and forth.

He looked like he had whenever their mother would reach the climax of their bedtime story and the heros would be dangling over the precipice or facing down something with slaver stringing from it’s teeth. Back when she had the time, she’d been excellent at telling stories. Back when she’d had time to live lives other than her own, when she hadn’t been the one facing monsters that may or may not be shadows on the wall.

“You’d be the heir,” Juno nods, heart pounding, “You could marry Mick, for real.”

That seemed to hit Ben with the strength of a sledgehammer, hearing it out loud, hearing it be spoken by someone he trusted implicitly. He practically staggered, hands going to his hair and stroking through it rapidly like he needed something to hold on to.

“Oh…” he murmured, eyes clearly seeing something else, watching what had always been a selfish dream become his possible future. “I could. We wouldn’t have to sneak around, we’d have an engagement party and everyone would know and it would be fine, we’d get married in the grand hall where they all do and it would make mother smile and she’d know we were safe and you! You’d be my…”

He stopped then, his face falling, his hope and excitement shattering like a broken vase. He looked to Juno, looking like he’d become ten years younger in an instant.

“You wouldn’t be there,” he murmured, voice small and far away like it was coming from another room, “You’d be gone.”

Juno closed his eyes tightly and took a breath, needing to steady himself before he could meet his brother’s gaze. He’d never found it easy to crack himself open and show others what was inside, even with Benten. How could he, when he was raised to do the exact opposite, to move through a prearranged list of tasks as effortlessly as a ballet dancer, never giving the impression that there was anything but clockwork in his chest?

But if this was going to be goodbye, he was going to fucking suck it up because that’s what Benzaiten deserved.

He stood and opened his arms, Ben crashing into them so hard they both were in danger of going flying. For a long few heartbeats, the two of them just held each other, as tight as they could, the kind of hug that could only happen between two siblings, between two people who loved each other so fiercely it hurt and who had also called each other every curse word under the sun.

“I won’t do this if you don’t want me to,” Juno murmured, voice muffled against his own shoulder, “You’re the other half of me, Ben, and I’m not going anywhere if you aren’t okay with it.”

“Juno…” Ben sighed, drawing back but putting his hands on Juno’s shoulders, gripping tight, “You’ve spent your whole life doing things for other people. You deserve this. And I’ll be fine, you don’t have to worry about me. I mean, I know you’re always going to…”

Juno chuckled wryly, “Yeah...can’t help it. It’s a big brother thing.”

“Only by half an hour!” Ben rolled his eyes, exasperatedly, “But whatever. I can stand on my own two feet, Juno. It’s time people realised that.”

Juno sighed a little guiltily through his smile. Maybe he had been seeing Ben as younger and more helpless than he was. Maybe it had been convenient for him to have someone need him in a way he could fix. He couldn’t solve the housing crisis or the poverty in Harpyia, he didn’t have magic words to turn back the queen’s paranoia. But he could hold his brother when he cried at night, he could swap clothes with him so he could dance with his secret boyfriend, he could tell him stories from their childhood to help him remember when things had made a little more sense. And maybe he’d forgotten somewhere along the way that Ben was clever, brave and would make a wonderful crown prince. Better than Juno ever could be, because he hadn’t grown up with the title and had it break him slowly in a myriad of tiny ways.

“But…” he shook his head, “I’d feel like such a coward. And...and you said, you said you hated being me at all those parties!”

Ben smiled simply. He did that so often, like the act didn’t cost him anything.

“So I won’t be you, Juno. I’ll be me.”

It was very hard not to cry then but Juno had done enough of that. Any more and he’d render himself useless.

“And you’re not a coward,” Ben added firmly, “That’s the last thing anyone can call you. It shouldn’t be down to one person to fix all this shit, anyway. It’s going to take time and effort and smart people who care.”

“But...they’re getting Mick Mercury?” Juno grimaced, finding it easier to not cry if he was joking. It was even easier a second later when he had the pain of Benten socking him in the shoulder to focus on, “Kidding, kidding. So...I guess that makes this…”

“No,” Ben said quickly, holding up a finger, “Don’t you dare. Not yet. Or I’ll cry and then we’re never going to pull this off.”

Juno smiled, nodding, more than a little relieved.

“Okay then,” the smile was back, almost blinding, “Let’s go get you a happily ever after.”

It had taken some time for the queen to wipe the regret off her face, some was still clinging when her sons assembled wordlessly behind her. But by the time she stood out on her balcony, it was gone, not a trace of it lingering.

The press and dignitaries assembled below her all turned their faces up as the doors swung open, like flowers moving towards the sun. A sun they needed, a sun that fed them but they would still snipe and gossip about her as soon as she set. She would love to see how they’d survive in a cold world with a dead sky.

The best of Harpyia was assembled below her, as well as the sweepings of the surrounding planets who were still here. Of course they were eager to hear what she had to say, after the debacle that had been last night's ball with no pronouncement. Perhaps she should thank her little monster. The delay had only fanned the flames and stoked the interest.

She could sense him behind her, standing next to Benzaiten as a perfect matching set. He’d turned his eye away every time she’d made to glance at him, since he’d been summoned to this announcement and hadn’t emerged from his room until that moment. If he hadn’t already hated her, these next words would set it in stone.

Inside the shell of what she’d become, Sarah Steel wept.

Outside the glass, the sun was making it’s slow, leisurely way below the horizon, the glow from the gardens was just igniting in long pulses like a heart waking up. Late for an announcement like this but it had taken a long time to assemble everyone important enough to need to be here. Not long by anyone else’s standards of course but for a queen, it was closer to night than she would have liked. Perhaps she could spin it as deliberate, so they could make these decisions in the glow of the years past, the same light their ancestors had been bathed in as they forged the planet they now stood on, some bullshit like that.

Of course it would give a lovely ambience to the drinks and canapes after, the circles of the ballroom Juno and Diamond would take so people could congratulate them and all those who’d dared oppose her recently could quake in their boots at the sight of the princess’ arm through that of the heir to the most powerful crime family. You gave me nothing, her smile would say when her lips couldn’t, so I found my own strength. Now fear what my planet will become.

It was the face absent from the crowd that concerned her more than that, however. Jack wasn’t anywhere to be seen when, by rights, he should be already doing what he did best, winning people to their side, smoothing the cracks. Likely he was off nursing his battered platitudes and niceties she’d torn through last night. Well and good, as long as he remembered who truly ruled Harpyia but that didn’t mean she would forget his absence.

She was done forgetting and forgiving.

She spoke in a loud, clear voice, the one she’d honed for years with her mother standing her at one end of the empty throne room and her at the other. She had nightmares about that sometimes, her mother’s voice booming at her from somewhere she couldn’t see, louder, louder, louder, Sarah. She spoke of the strength of Harpyia, how they would only flourish and grow in the coming years as Princess Juno moved towards his time on the throne with his new partner by his side. She put a lot of emphasis on the power and prestige of his betrothed, how their family was part of Harpyia, a hard working and dedicated family that showed the best of what their planet could be. A pit of snakes with venom dripping from their fangs, she corrected herself inside her mind, and I will step carefully. But oh, won’t it be fun to throw some of you bastards into that pit.

“And now to formally announce his betrothal, my beloved son and heir, your Princess Juno,” she moved smoothly to one side, to give her little monster a severe don’t fuck this up look before he spoke the pre rehearsed words he’d been delievered that morning, voice clear and bright and without a tremble.

And she was faced with empty air.

The queen was glad she was turned away so they couldn’t see the shock and dismay on her face. So they couldn’t see her look at Benzaiten, still standing straight backed and to attention, the barest flicker of a smile on his face and growl through gritted teeth, “Where the fuck is he?”

The two guards there purely for ceremony looked around, helpless, fumbling. The murmurs below began, quiet and rumbling as a river with hidden currents ready to pull you below and choke you. And Benzaiten only shrugged. He shrugged.

Not caring who heard now, the queen dispatched the guards with a curse, ordering them to find the crown princess and drag him up here whatever state he was in. She gave a bitten off scream of frustration and brought her palm down on the polished wood of the balcony’s railing, snapping two of her nails. She brought her heel down so hard it snapped off halfway up.

And inside, Sarah Steel prayed that her son was running hard and fast.

The garden really was beautiful. Juno thought it every time he sat here, no matter what or who he was occupied with, but it bore saying over and over again. It was beautiful. Harpyia was beautiful.

The gathering night put some coolness in the air. His dress was far less ridiculous than last night’s monstrosity of lace and petticoats but the sleeves were shorter, leaving his arms free to pepper with goosebumps as he sat on the bench and waited. His silent flight from the balcony, taking all the quickest, quietest ways he’d ever snuck in and out of the palace, hoping that everyone was too busy looking the other way to learn the name of the person he wasn’t going to marry, had left his heart writhing with leftover adrenaline.

But now he could just sit and take air in and out, feeling shreds of himself fall away and get snagged by the wind like petals. He would have to check in later and see what was left, see whether he’d lost anything he cared about. He doubted it though. He only felt lighter as the moments passed.

And then he wasn’t alone.

“Juno Steel,” the voice came from close by, “You can’t know how happy I am to see you here.”

“Same to you, Peter Nureyev,” Juno turned and smiled, he was sitting right beside him on the bench, “This is yours.”

He held the tiara out to his thief. It felt so light in his hands, far too light for the history it carried. The history he was giving away in this moment, as he moved from being the figurehead of a planet, the mannequin on which they dressed their centuries, to being a flesh and blood human being. Who could make mistakes and do things wrong but also learn and grow and make beautiful things out of it all.

Like falling in love with the man in front of him.

Nureyev barely even glanced at the tiara, already leaning in and kissing him. If Juno had harboured any worries that last night had been a dream, that he’d blown it up in his mind, that it would never be what he’d remembered in his stressed out, desperate haze, that kiss wiped them away in a moment. It was just as sweet and honest and full of promises that he believed Nureyev would keep. It made sense, in a beautifully simple way.

And as much as he wanted to sink into it, his ear was straining towards the palace, a shrinking distance away from them. Was that the trickle of the water fountain hidden in the middle of the maze or was it angry voices rising in volume? Was that the beat of butterfly wings above them in the canopy or footfalls on the gravel, running towards them?

Reluctantly, Juno pulled away as far as he could bear to which wasn’t very far at all, “We should go. I want a seat on that magical escape and I don’t fancy seeing you in the dungeons.”

“That’s a shame,” Nureyev gave a smile that flickered quick as a sparked match and Juno’s face felt hot like he’d been standing too close, “But you’re right. I came to steal you away and I do not intend to have this particular prize taken from me.”

Juno grinned, letting him pull him to his feet. Both of their hands, Juno’s right and Nureyev’s left, held the tiara as their fingers wound together. Perfect complementary shapes locking into place, the spun gold snug between them. All they had to do was keep a tight hold and not let go.

And run.

It was immediately obvious that this was Nureyev’s element. Like Ben dancing, like Rita at her comms, like the queen in her throne, this was where he was the brightest star in the sky. Sprinting through somewhere he wasn’t supposed to be, holding something he wasn’t supposed to have, making a breakneck escape, this was what he was made for. All Juno could do was hang on and grip his hand, letting himself be pulled along.

They weren’t going to be caught, he realised that after a minute, as Nureyev fearlessly dived into the thick woods that surrounded the royal grounds. The queen may as well try and catch lightning in her bare hands, it just wasn’t going to happen. A force of nature was a force of nature.

Which meant Juno really was leaving for good.

In between his own ragged breaths he wondered what Ben was doing right now. Crying probably, though Juno really didn’t want to think about that. But if he was, he hoped Mick was holding him tight against his chest the way he’d seen them do, where Ben could tuck his face against Mick’s collarbone. Mick had been there for the goodbyes, with the rest of them, with all of the people he actually wanted to say it to when he’d realised he had less than an hour to go.

Juno didn’t want to think about that too much, not right now when he had to depend on his lungs to pull in air and his eye to stay clear. The time for it would come later when he could sit and see the miles he’d put between his home and him clearly in his mind. For now, he just hoped that Ben was safe in Mick’s arms, that Rita was pulled into a tight hug, that Mick’s hurt anger had faded some. He could just hope that they’d be okay.

And in return, he would go and be okay.

The forests around the palace were so dense, they were rarely set foot in, the gardeners had long ago given up on taming them. Juno always remembered being warned away from it as a child, nanny after nanny and even their mother telling them firmly that the forest was not a playground and it would be so easy to get lost. They hadn’t listened, obviously, he and Ben, along with Mick and Sasha, had dared each other into them hundreds of times, sitting under the towering trees with their veins of bioluminescence and passing bottles of expensive wine and joints back and forth, telling ghost stories and seeing who could climb the highest.

But even they had never pressed in too far, staying where some sunlight could still trickle in between the leaves overhead. There was just something primal and terrifying about the true heart of the forest, something about it that still felt alien, no matter how long Harpyia had been colonised. Those trees and plants had been there long before any humans, seething there for centuries upon centuries, and it was easy to believe they still harboured a grudge.

Juno hoped it wasn’t too strong a resentment as he followed Nureyev deep into their embrace, feeling very at their mercy. But maybe they would understand. Maybe they could empathise with a princess running away from the same structures that had infected the planet that had once been theirs. Maybe they envied his legs to run with.

He must have had the right of it because the trees kept them well hidden, wrapping them in a veil of black leaves, stems throbbing with blue light like there were hidden rivers running through them. That was the only light they had, all the brightness of the setting sun completely banished by the thick of the foliage. Their own personal, premature night had fallen, lit only by faint stars in an array of natural, biological colours. But it seemed to be enough, Nureyev never stumbled once, even as the ground beneath them grew spongy and uneven and twigs started to snap under their heels like broken bones.

Juno was starting to curse his dresser. He obviously couldn’t dress for his escape, not when he was trying to make it seem like he fully intended to attend the pronouncement, not without arousing suspicion. He’d long ago learned how to run in heels and full length skirts, he was no amature. But even he was starting to suffer, points of agony flaring on the soles of his feet and he was sure the hem of his dress was a wreck.

And then Juno realised he was only noticing his hurts because they were slowing down.

Soon they came to a stop entirely, Nureyev pulling them into the shelter of the thickest, blackest trunk, the one roughest and most scarred with age. He was sweating too, lightly around his hairline, breath coming in soft, practised pants. That pleased Juno, it was good to see his thief really was human.

“This will do,” Nureyev kept his voice low, though sound would never carry here, “We can rest here awhile.”

“What’s the plan?” Juno wheezed, leaning against the tree. He still hadn’t let go of Nureyev’s hand.

Nureyev grinned at him, he clearly loved explaining his plans, seeing another person’s eye widening in awe at their brilliance, “They’ll be expecting us to run straight for the capital port. Or one of the smaller ones, if they have any regard for our intelligence. So instead we wait, out of range of sensors or signal jammers, give them time to exhaust all the obvious options and become panicky, become more reckless and heavy handed. Those heavy hands may come down with more force but it only makes the gaps between the fingers wider. That is when we slip through them in my own vehicle. Unregistered, untraceable and damn good at escapes. It’s been waiting here in these woods since last night with my supplies.”

Juno followed his easy gesture over to a particularly thick bramble patch. Only when he squinted and looked very closely could he see the glint of something chromatic, a bright flash of green, the edge of a wheel.

He grinned, “So we wait right under their noses, somewhere they can never find us.”

Nureyev gave him a languid smile, “Are you afraid of roughing it for a night, princess?”

“No more than anyone else. And call me Juno, okay?”

“Juno,” Nureyev repeated obediently, letting his voice slide over each syllable.

He sounded different, he’d clearly been wearing a voice as easily as he’d been wearing those clothes at the ball. It was all gone now, voice softened with the subtle accent of somewhere outer rim, the clothes just plain black pants and a tight black jumper, belt heavy with packs and rolls and concealed tools, no square inch of skin exposed that didn’t absolutely need to be.  

Juno realised then that he found competency very hot.

Clearing his throat, he stood and pulled a twig from his hair. He let their fingers unwind, leaving Nureyev with the tiara, likely he had some place in that car to conceal his treasure.

“There’s hot pools just a little ways over there,” Nureyev was watching him carefully, a smile playing on his lips, “If you want to freshen up.”

“Yeah,” Juno felt adrenaline fuelled laughter bubble in his voice, “Yeah, I do look like I’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards, huh?”

“Please,” Nureyev sniffed playfully, “The hedge was Plan B. No, I just mean...if you need a moment.”

Juno gave him a grateful smile and steadied himself back on his own feet, “Sure. Feel free to join me.”

Certain his intentions had been made clear, he picked his way through the clinging leaves half gone to rot and the claggy, black mud. It wasn’t hard to follow the steam to the pools Nureyev had spoken about, close by just as he’d said. He must have spent months memorising the layout of the palace and the forest, he knew things even Juno didn’t after living here all his life.

Fingertips brushing the surface of the water told him they were plenty warm without being blisteringly hot. The mud made them black as night, no wind meant they were still as a mirror. You could so easily stumble right into them, never knowing they were there, if you didn’t spot the bioluminescent fragments of leaves floating on their surface.

It was a while before his heart stopped pounding and his breathing stopped coming in hitched gasps. Once it did, once the quiet of the forest settled into him like a plant growing roots through his veins, everything felt so fresh and new. Like up until now, he’d had wool covering his skin, stuffed into his nose and mouth, clinging to his eyes. Now it was gone, Juno could believe he’d never heard butterfly wings beating above him before, that he’d never smelled fresh earth, that he’d never really seen water running in perfect diamond droplets down his fingers.

The jewellery went first, rings, necklaces and hair pieces falling to the ground like stars. Then the eyepatch, it’s delicate lace and white satin instantly muddied. The gown next, a sweet off white waterfall of lace, specifically chosen to echo a wedding dress. Juno took great pleasure in pulling out a penknife (it was amazing what you and a dedicated lady in waiting could hide in such voluminous skirts) and sawing through the material just above his knee, freeing his legs should he need to run again, before hanging it over the bough of a tree and letting the sheaf of cut away lace flutter down to the ground. He had a sudden daydream of a mother fox snagging the loose material and using it in her den for her cubs. The shoes were completely abandoned, their white satin and pearl decoration ruined by the mud. If Juno had to run again that night, he would do it in bare feet.

Lastly, he hung his chemise and panties from the same black branch, shivering pleasantly at the cool air on his skin. It made for a shuddering contrast when he slipped into the water, felt it rise to the level of his throat, deeper than he’d first anticipated. The line between the heat and the cold was sharp, it could have been drawn on with a marker, and for a moment it was all he could do to close his eye and feel it all. He hadn’t known freedom would have such a distinctive taste to it.

He took a breath and submerged himself, letting the black warmth close over his head with a sensation not unlike being consumed by some beast, close enough that there was an edge of fear to the action. But then he was just floating, like a heart in a chest, for a moment that seemed so purely endless. Like he could just keep sinking, through the earth, through to nothing and never feel anything but peace.

Juno had felt something like that before, a version of that promise of a quiet eternity that wasn’t as clean and neat as this. He’d replicated it with drugs, with alcohol, with walking along the very edge of the palace roofs, knowing that all he’d need to do was take a step forward and the fall would stretch on forever. And there had always been a bitterness when it had faded, when he’d pulled away and the feeling had slipped through his fingers.

This time there was none of that. This time he rose up out of it gladly. Because Juno knew what was waiting for him up above was worth returning to.

When his head broke the surface again, Peter Nureyev was there a little ways away, hand resting lazily on the nearest tree but there was a hopeful kind of strain in his bright eyes. He was naked too, a bottle hanging from the fingers of his slack hand, the black leather of a harness hugging his slim, angular hips.

Juno had to laugh, “So when you said you kept your kit in that car...what part of thieving is a cock useful for exactly?”

Nureyev gave a disarming smile, relaxing at his positive reception, “For the part where you steal away pretty ladies to secluded areas in beautiful forests, obviously.”

The adrenaline reawakened in his veins as Juno hauled himself up out of the pool, already stirring before he even broke the surface, before the ghost of the warmth broke into tiny pearls on his skin. By the time he and Nureyev met somewhere in the space between them, he was half hard and had a moan waiting for when their lips met. He didn’t have a chance to feel cold because Nureyev was burning when he wrapped his arms around him, his skin prickling with a close heat.

Juno wondered cheekily if he got this way after all of his daring escapes. If after every one he had to find a shadowed corner, some kind of privacy, and tend to himself, pressing back sighs of release with his palm. He liked that idea. And suddenly he wanted to be around for every one after this point.

He let Nureyev lead, aware of the points of contact but not the movement between them, too lost in his lips and the slide of his tongue. His back pressed against the ground which was suddenly so soft, warm with whatever underground spring fed the pools. Nureyev’s hands were greedy things, at his hair then his broad shoulders then tangled in the hair on his chest then following the rounded valley of his hips. Juno felt appraised almost, climbing high on how clear it was that his thief liked what he touched and saw. He felt precious.

Kissing had never factored much into Juno’s other nights, at parties with heirs just as lost as him or beautiful servants who’d caught him when he was feeling lonely. But now that it was someone he wanted to kiss, he was addicted, moving in again and again after they’d snatched a breath of air, until both of their mouths were bitten and tender and everything tasted the same.

There was so little of Nureyev physically, he was all angles and bones, but somehow he was everywhere, wrapping Juno up so completely, it felt like he must have more hands than just the two. They were here, then there, then they were slick with cool gel and then, oh, they were right where they needed to be. Juno gasped, catching his lip on Nureyev’s pointed teeth and grinding hard into it. Nureyev gave a soft laugh and murmured something about impatience that was lost to a low groan as Juno’s thumb began to circle one of his nipples.

After it all, they’d ended up with Juno lying flat on his back, his knees the parentheses for Nureyev’s hips, his dirt stained hands splayed on his thin chest, their faces bare inches from each other, close enough that their noses could touch. Nureyev’s fingers were sunk deep into the earth, anchoring them both.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured into the moment’s pause before he pressed inside him.

Not your gown is pretty. Not your hair is lovely or your makeup or your crown. Nureyev saw Juno, only Juno, as stripped bare as he could ever be and saw he was beautiful.

And Juno realised he was going to follow this man to the very edge of the stars.

He pressed him forward with his heels, the need now beyond desperate. Nureyev complied, moving almost reverently, like it was a privilege to share his body, kissing him as he sank deeper and deeper until their skin met. He licked some of the water still beading on Juno’s cheekbone as he began to rock, slowly at first then steadily faster until it felt like they were running again, hearts pounding in their chests and breath misting in the air.

It wasn’t a fairytale. It was getting cold and Juno didn’t even want to think about where he’d be finding dead leaves in the morning, they were both giddy and giggling and trying new things in bursts of frenetic eagerness, too hungry to settle on just one thing. And, far sooner than either of them would have liked, Juno was gripping Nureyev tightly, pressing his face to his shoulder and gritting his teeth as he painted both of their chests. Nureyev fell with him a few moments later, gasping and groaning, sinking to his elbows as his strength left him in shudders and starts. Passionate but in a hectic way, messy and dizzy and grasping, not the tasteful fade to black at the end of a fairytale when everything was wrapped up neatly and everyone was on the path to their perfect future.

But it did feel like the start of something.

Juno thought about that as they washed off in the pools and wandered back to Nureyev’s car, wrapped themselves in blankets he pulled from the seemingly bottomless trunk and watched the stars from the backseat. He thought about it as he fell asleep listening to Nureyev tell him about all the famous heists and daring stunts that had been pulled off in this car, his head pillowed on his thief's stomach.

He’d never had the start of something before. He’d always had endings, he’d had destinations to chase, goals to achieve and once he’d done that, nothing. But there had been some security in that, at least he’d only ever had two options. Get there or fuck up. Success or nothing.

Starts were different. Starts could lead anywhere, there were a million options, all branching out into tomorrows he couldn’t see, roots of a tree that just went deeper and deeper. Any one of them could lead to heartbreak, any one could be a wrong turn. Hell, the way this was going, he could end up in a jail cell for the rest of his life. So many ways for this to be a shattering mistake.

But Juno slept better curled up on the back seat of the Ruby 7 than he had in any featherbed in the palace. He felt safer with Nureyev’s heartbeat and quiet voice than he had in years.

Juno would take a start every time.

The space port had a metallic, inorganic kind of stink to it, the smell of cluttered machinery, of too many kinds of homespun fuel, of rust and ill fitted parts. That alone marked it as not the biggest nor the nicest port on Mars but one of the smaller ones that clustered in places like Olympus Mons, stretching out like growing boils across the sands, even to the Cerberus Province. This one would be somewhere between those two extremes. The black market items weren’t on flagrant display on the tables but you got the strong sense that the merchants wouldn’t have to reach far to get a hold of them.

Juno was standing at one of the more reputable looking booths, a StarMail station, one of millions that could be found scattered all over Solar planets, even one or two on the outer rim. They all looked the same with their faded chrome and smiling AI attendant on a glitchy comms screen, the loud, colourful logo of a cartoon star with a mail bag slung over one shoulder, their promise to send all messages securely and safely to all corners of the system. This one was squatting between a booth selling rusted parts clearly scavenged from battlefields and a vendor selling wraps of some meat that steamed like burning tires and seemed to actually have parts covered in scaly chitin.

The funny thing about StarMail was, if you had the right codes on the right signal jammer, the kind that were only sold to certain individuals in certain seedy space ports, you could send something completely untraceable. Your message could have come from Jupiter or Mars or Brahma, anywhere in the solar system, bouncing around mischievously between all of these identical booths. All it took was a press of a button, under the guise of scratching your chest under your long trench coat. The one you’d just bought and fit you better than anything you’d ever owned.

But you still kept the same slightly too small dark sweater underneath it. Because your boyfriend had given it to you one damp, humid morning in the forest half a week ago and it still smells slightly of his cologne.

Juno kept the message short, it would be easier that way, just in case it did fall into the wrong hands. After all, there were several hundred million creds attached to it. Hidden, sure, but enough that you couldn’t be too careful.

For social projects. Housing, hospitals, anything that will help people. More to come. I’m doing good. Miss you. J.

He had to smile a little, as he sent it off and watched his words dissolve into pixels that blew away on a digital wind. It certainly was helpful that the palace’s email servers were the best, most secure on the market. Benzaiten Steel was probably the easiest person to send the funds of a stolen tiara, broken down and sold across the solar planets.

Juno had been half listening to the comms perched on the counter of the food stand, tinnily broadcasting the news in a sugary, bubblegum voice of whatever presenter they had this month. The usual stuff, the political and high society dramas that always raged through the celebrity stratospheres of the galaxy, barely touching the people below. Marriages and divorces on the same day, murders before breakfast the next morning. Amounts of creds hundreds of zeros beyond what he’d just sent off changing hands in seconds, forced or gladly frittered. Parties and balls and orgies, the fallout of so much money and so little sense. Big and flashy and grand and final. Countesses, stream starlets, mobsters.

And runaway princesses.

“The search continues for the princess of the outer rim planet, Harpyia, missing now for close to a week. Rumours abound despite the stony statements from the palace. Was Princess Juno stolen along with millions of creds worth of ancient royal jewels? Or did he flee of his own accord, taking the jewellery as recompense for years in the spotlight? Several stream studios are already in talks to tell the story of this runaway heir, even as it unfolds. Little concrete news comes from the planet’s current monarch and her staff but we think the sudden announcement of a hasty engagement between the remaining prince and one Lord Mercury speaks for itself, viewers! Keep watching for more on this unfolding rollercoaster. Or, well, watch it all played out on your screens in technicolour before too long!”

He allowed himself a smile, one that would still be hidden behind the scarf wound around the lower half of his face. It was dusty on Mars after all, especially out here in the shadow of the great mountain, with these cut rate domes.

There was so much to see in the Olympus space port, so many unique little pieces of life, so different from everything he was used to. He could have stayed and breathed in the rank smell of the charring meat and listened to the two traders off to his left exchange rapid fire insults he didn’t understand all day, endlessly fascinated by it all.

But Juno couldn’t hang around. He couldn’t linger and listen to the tragic, already mythologised tale of princesses gone astray, of glamour on the run and jewels worth more than stars going missing.

He had a ride to catch. And someone to catch it with.

You couldn’t park an infamous getaway car in the middle of a busy space port. They took a hoverbike out into the sandy wastes where Nureyev had stashed it, safely tucked out of reach of the city lights.  

“Well, Juno,” he smiled his sharp toothed grin as he brought the engine to life and put his whole weight on the pedals, pressing them back in their seats, “We’re between jobs and we’re filthy rich with ill gotten gains. The entire galaxy is yours, my love. What would you like to see first?”

Juno knew exactly what he wanted to see first, though he wasn’t going to share it. He waited until they were past the milky red haze of the atmosphere, until there was just the blackness around them, just the endless night of space.

There he could see his reflection better. He saw his square jaw, the shadows under his eyes from the endless travel in a short space of time, the plain black eyepatch. He saw his curls, flattened and out of shape from sleeping in the back of the Ruby 7 and doing a lot of things that weren’t sleeping in the back of the Ruby 7. He saw the smudge of sauce from the street food they’d eaten still standing up, marring the corner of his mouth. He saw the ease his face was starting to settle into as a matter of course, hesitant like the muscles weren’t quite sure what to do just yet but they were learning.

And he saw the stars, up above him, all around him, through him. All his possible futures mapping themselves out, like constellations that hadn’t been sketched in yet.

And in the middle, his own reflection, clear as day against the night. A face he was happy to see.

And Juno smiled.

[crackimagines]

Dancing for Dummies (FE: Three Houses Short Fic)

Byleth-Sama: Love is War (Part 2)

-----

Part Listings Here!

All AU’s involved listed here!

-----

With the rush now on to have Byleth choosing her over Sara for the Ball, Megumi must find out how to be more appealing.

Unfortunately for her, everyone she knows has no idea how any of this stuff works either.

-----

The next morning after Part 1...   

[Afterschool Hours - Trails of Cold Steel]

Once the bell rang, everyone got up from their seats and went outside.

The three houses and House Isekai began mingling among themselves, spreading the daily news and gossip as the faculty met up to have lunch.

It was only a select few that noticed Megumi and Sara’s strange behavior.

(Kazuma) “What’s up with them?”

Rean, Dimitri, Darkness, and Dedue looked over at the faculty members.

(Dedue) “What do you mean?”

(Darkness) “Are you referring to Instructor Sara and Megunee?”

(Rean) “Now that you mention it, they didn’t seem like themselves when teaching. Those two are usually pretty friendly with one another.”

(Dedue) “I didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary.”

(Kazuma) “Well, duh. You’re not in our class.”

(Rean) “I’ll ask later, though I’m fairly positive I’ll be brushed off by Sara...”

(Dimitri) “Then I’ll ask Megunee.”

(Darkness) “Guess that settles that. Now, what were you talking about, Rean?”

(Rean) “Why does Aqua shout at herself, something about gremlins?”

(Kazuma) “Ooooh...That...”

As that conversation continued on normally, Dimitri couldn’t help but think about what they said about Sara and Megumi. 

Dimitri was a bit concerned for Megumi. She normally didn’t have any problems with anyone here, yet he couldn’t shake off this feeling of dread.

...

Once the staff got their desired food, they began making their way to the table.

Sara reached for a bread from the basket, only to find Megumi’s hand reaching for it as well. They looked up and made eye contact, which caused both of their brows to furrow.

(Sara) “...Sakura.”

(Megumi) “Valestein.”

The two stared at each other for a solid minute, refusing to say anything more.

A tall shadow engulfed the light they were at which scared the hell out of them.

(Dimitri) “...Uh, pardon me.”

(Sara) “Oh, m-my bad!”

(Megumi) “Excuse me!”

They began to depart, but before Megumi could join the table, she heard Dimitri call out to her.

(Megumi) “N-No worries. We’re fi-...Actually are you free after lunch?”

(Dimitri) “I do believe so.”

(Megumi) “Great. We’ll talk afterwards.”

Megumi left, making Dimitri scratch his head.

(Dimitri) “This does not bode well...”

Sothis was watching the interaction go down and chuckled to herself.

(Sothis) “Well well...Looks like I should help get this going too.”

Sothis floated away towards the courtyard while everyone else at their lunch.

Later...

[Funny Footsteps - Fire Emblem: Three Houses]

(Dimitri) “...So this all started because you two just wanted to dance with Byleth? Couldn’t you both just dance with him?”

(Megumi) “Yes, well...I-It’s the principle of it all! Besides, I have to get chosen first! Imagine what I would have to tell my students if their teacher couldn’t get a dance first!”

(Dimitri) “Well to be fair, there is most likely a lot of other people who wish to dance with him. Besides, I wasn’t aware Yuki and the others cared for things like that.”

(Megumi) “It’s my pride on the line, Dimitri!”

Dimitri didn’t know what to say. He had never seen Megumi this flustered before.

Especially about Byleth.

(Dimitri) “Well, what is your strategy for winning over Sara?”

(Megumi) “Hm...I’m not sure. Actually, I don’t know how to dance properly at a ball. Something like this would never have come up in my previous life.”

(Dimitri) “Well, I am no expert by any means, but I did have to learn for attending these balls back in the Kingdom. Perhaps I can be of assistance?”

(Megumi) “...Actually, I think I know what you can help me with!”

(Dimitri) “And what would that be?”

(Megumi) “I heard from some others that you gave a dagger to a girl you liked-’

(Dimitri) HURK?!

(Megumi) “Maybe Byleth would like that-...Dimitri are you okay?”

Dimitri had unwillingly curled his hands into a fist, wanting to strangle Sylvain. His eye was twitching but he took a deep breath.

(Dimitri) “P-Perfectly fine, yes. Anyways, yes, Byleth might like that.”

(Megumi) “Do you think you could perhaps find a good one? I promise to pay you for your trou-”

(Dimitri) “Ah, pay it no mind, Megunee.-”

(Megumi) “It’s Professor Sakura-”

(Dimitri) “-It’s the least I can do for all you’ve done for me and my class. Since the day is still young I oughtta get to work finding one.”

Dimitri got up and nodded at Megumi.

(Dimitri) “I wish you luck!”

(Megumi) “Thank you.”

Dimitri left, leaving Megumi by herself in the courtyard.

(Megumi) “Now, what to do...”

Later that evening...

After a little while, Megumi walked past the dorms and towards the greenhouse. When she entered, she was going to think on what to do for the ball and how to get his attention.

As she watered the plants, she heard a familiar voice call out to her.

(Yuki’s Voice) “Megunee!”

(Megumi) “Hm? Oh, Yuki-chan!”

She ran in the room with a bright smile.

(Yuki) “I’ve been looking all over for you! Minako and Kasumi have been wanting to see you!”

(Megumi) “Huh? What for?”

(Yuki) “You’re wanting to dance with Byleth-sensei, right?”

Megumi almost dropped her water can as she yelped.

(Megumi) “W-WHAT?! Who told you that?!”

(Yuki) “Yuuri-san did! The rest of House Isekai knows! Actually, I think the other houses know too.”

(Megumi) “WHAT?!”

(Yuki) “Jeez, you’re a little slow today. Now come on, let’s get going we have to get you ready!”

Yuki took Megumi’s hand and dragged her off towards the Training Hall.

-----

Earlier...

Ainz sat down at the head of the table as the others slowly arrived.

Albedo knelt by his side, her head facing down.

(Albedo) “Lord Ainz, everyone has been gathered as ordered.”

Ainz nodded and lookde to the door.

The first to arrive was Rean, followed by Edelgard, Dimitri, and Yuuri.

The next was Kazuma, Akira, the Arisato siblings, and lastly Yu.

They all took their seats and looked to Ainz.

(Ainz) “Albedo.”

(Albedo) “Yes, Lord Ainz?”

(Ainz) “...What exactly are we here for?”

(Albedo) “...Absolve me of my negligence milord, what do you mean?”

(Ainz) “I wasn’t the one who ordered everyone here. Did anyone here do so?”

(Minato) “No. I was told it was urgent.”

(Minako) “Same here.”

(Claude) “Don’t look at me.”

(Edelgard) “I’m not sure why WE were invited, honestly.”

(Dimitri) “Well clearly we’re all confused, who was the one who-”

(Kazuma) “It was me, actually.”

Everyone turned to Kazuma.

(Kazuma) “So, a little green birdy tipped me off to something VERY intriguing, something that I thought you all might wanna hear!”

(Ainz) “And what would that be?”

(Kazuma) “Our dear Sara and Megunee, are having a war! A war for Byleth’s affection, and I’m taking the bets!”

(Everyone) “...”

(Rean) “You REALLY called us all together just to tell us that?”

(Albedo) “Insignificant little...! HOW DARE YOU MANIPULATE US TO SATISFY YOUR OWN GREED!-”

(Claude) “I’m not opposed to a bet, honestly.”

(Yuuri) “Of course you aren’t.”

(Ainz) “Besides, the winner is obvious isn’t it?”

(Dimitri) “Yes, the winner is clearly Megunee-”

(Edelgard) “Valestein-”

(Claude) “A good tie, honestly.”

“...”

(Everyone) “What?”

(Minako) “Uh, the winner of that’s going to be Megunee. Haven’t you seen the two together, they look adorable!”

(Rean) “I’m inclined to disagree. I think Sara is more his type.”

(Yu) “You’re just saying that because she’s your teacher back in your world.”

(Kazuma) “Meh, my gang thinks that Sara’s gonna win too.”

(Ainz) “Is this seriously something we’re arguing right now?”

(Edelgard) “Sara will be the victor.”

(Dimitri) “Not if I have anything to say about it! I promised Megunee that she’d be getting the dance!”

(Claude) “Uh guys? Aren’t we getting a liiitle too heated about-”

(Minato) “Then it seems like its war.”

(Minako) “WAAAAARRR!”

(Yuuri) “Oh dear.”

-----

(Minako) “Aaaaand that’s about the gist of it!”

(Megumi) “I cannot believe this...”

(Kasumi) “From what I heard from Akira-senpai, this really ballooned up, didn’t it?”

(Yuki) “We’re not going to let Sara win this, which is why I called in some backup!”

A knock came from the door and opened with a hearty laugh.

(Alois) “Professor Sakura, there you are!”

(Megumi) “Oh dear god, no-”

(Alois) “So, you need some help in this fight, eh? Well worry not, we’re here to help!”

(Kasumi) “Dimitri-senpai is currently trying to find the perfect gift, right? Well, Minako, Alois, Yuki and I will help you learn how to dance!”

(Minako) “If you wanna score a man, YOU GOTTA DO THE HUSTLE!”

Minako spun around and pointed her finger up in the air, then pointed back into the ground, and repeated the same step over and over.

Kasumi, Megumi, and Alois watched awkwardly while Yuki joined in.

(Kasumi) “...Minako-senpai? This is a Ball, not a disco.”

(Megumi) “And aren’t you too young to know what the Hustle is?”

(Yuki) “Eh? How old are you, Megunee?”

(Megumi) “A-ANYWAYS! K-Kasumi, Alois, what do you guys have?”

(Kasumi) “Oooh! Well, there is ballet dancing you could do with your partner!”

Kasumi took a step back and bent her knees while putting her hands near her stomach.

(Kasumi) “One, and two!-”

Extending one foot into the air while keeping the other foot on the ground, she started spinning.

With her flexibility, her hand managed to touch the foot in the air and turned to Megumi.

(Kasumi) “Sakura-sensei! Could you please follow suit?”

(Yuki) “I think that’d rip her dress...”

(Megumi) “I-It would-”

(Yuki) “She’s a bit too large to do those crazy bends!”

(Megumi) “HUH?!”

(Alois) “That’s ballet dancing, not ball dancing! We need something a bit more simple! In these dances in the Monastery, you and your partner hold hands together and just simply step to the sides! I’m not sure what you kids have grown up thinking what a ball is!”

(Yuki) “What kind of music will it be? Is it classy? Rock? Pop?”

(Minako) “I don’t think he knows what those are, and if I had to guess, it’s string instruments right?”

(Alois) “You’re correct! And in fact, before I got here, I asked a friend who was musically attuned!”

(Megumi) “Oh, you mean Elliot from Class VII?”

(Alois) “No, it’s someone rooting for you!”

SLAM!

(Minako) “OH MY GOD.”

(Kasumi) “He can play instruments?”

(Yuki) “Hi Slayer!”

Doomguy waved at Yuki and turned to the others.

(Megumi) “WHY WOULD YOU INVITE SLAYER TO PLAY CLASSICAL MUSIC?!”

(Alois) “Oh relax, he’s only here as an example! Instructor Slayer, you can play classical music on that weird lute you have, right?”

Doomguy motioned his hand in a so-so manner.

(Alois) “Then it’s perfect! Yuki if you’d please!”

Yuki happily grabbed Megumi’s hand while Minako started going for cover.

(Kasumi) “Senpai?”

(Alois) “ALRIGHT, LET THE MUSIC BEGIN!”

Doomguy slammed a speaker behind him and put his fingers to the guitar-

BWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSH!

(Megumi) “W-WHY?!”

(Alois) “W-WHAT? I CANNOT HEAR YOU!”

(Yuki) “DID YOU SAY SOMETHING ALOIS?!”

(Kasumi) “WHAAAAT?”

(Minako) “SPEAK UP YOU GUYS!”

Doomguy slowly started backing away with his guitar and went back to his room, hoping to go unnoticed.

Megumi did learn something important on how to get Byleth however.

This was going to be a lot harder than she anticipated.

And that she was probably going to have tinnitus for the rest of her life.