#imagine spirit covered in scratches and bruises smiling against a blue sky

[toywizard]

i have a headcanon because of this wonderful 100+ thousand words fanfic series on ao3 that stein is just obsessed with spirit and spirit is literally the only reason stein's still has some sane sense. the guy just desperately clings to him like a little boy to the only adult who didn't reject him, spirit is literally a breath of fresh air for him after a bad battle or a candle that burns forever in the dark. i can't fully explain how stein feels about this redhead idiot, it's just that felling in the chest when he sees him and suddenly everything as it's supposed to be for a few seconds, no horrors, no abstruse thoughts, just spirit, his red hair and his awfully stupid face

[the-lady-writes-what]

23. Hitoshi Shinsou

          Theme: Haunted mirror, dark spirit

          Kinks: Mind control, fear play, bondage, non-con, cum play, fingering, possession 

All underaged characters are aged up. Hitoshi Shinsou is 18+, plus this is a demon AU so he's technically way older than that. Don’t come for me unless I send for you.

Warning: This contains very graphic and dark material including but not limited to non-con, unwilling bondage, and forced orgasms. Reader discretion is advised. Scary ending. 

Masterlist

Your friends noticed it first. The way your new mirror behaved strangely. Mirrors don’t misbehave; they’re mirrors. That didn’t stop your friends from talking about the weird vibes your mirror gave them. Images shifted or wavered in its reflection. Fog appeared out of nowhere. Handprints appeared when no one touched it; puffs of air clouded the surface. It was as if someone invisible lived on the other side of the mirror. Despite all their warnings and misgivings, the mirror stayed in your hallway.

“Okay, Y/N, that mirror has to go,” said Jiro.

You furrowed your brows. This wasn’t the first time Jiro, and others, suggested it. The massive antique mirror with its ornate frame continued to hang in your hall. You rolled your eyes a second later. 

“What did you see more handprints, or was it a ghost this time?” You asked half-joking.

“It was a whole-ass face is what I was looking at!” Said Jiro.

“A face, really?” Your brow shot upwards. “The next thing you’re going to tell me is that you saw a deadman in my rearview mirror.”

“Jiro’s right, Y/N. I saw it too,” said Momo.

Ochaco shuddered. “It was so creepy. Its eyes were staring into my soul.” 

“Not you too.” You sighed.  

“Get rid of that mirror!” All at once, your three friends shouted.  

“There’s nothing wrong with it. It’s just a mirror, you guys. I’ve never seen anything weird. It’s just your imagination.”

Your friends didn’t appreciate you discounting their concerns. In truth, you didn’t see even half of what they claimed. The mirror was old, gathered a lot of dust, and was slightly warped. It was a unique piece that you got for a steal.

A steal alright. That should have been your first red flag, you remember Jiro a week after you purchased it. Why would anyone sell an antique mirror for so cheap?

You ignored her jab and polished it up. You ignored Jiro’s warnings now too. Your patience was growing thin with your friends because of their ghost stories and things appearing in the mirror. It was borderline ridiculous. The joke had lost its punchline a long time ago. 

“There’s somebody I know who can tell you we’re not crazy. If you don’t believe her, fine. Suit yourself. But if you’re wrong, you have to pitch it.”

You shrug your shoulders. While everybody else snuck past the mirror, you were the only one to stop and look at your reflection. Just out of curiosity, you stared at it and hoped to see an apparition like your friends said you would. There was only you in the mirror. No spooky handprints, no breath fogging up the other side of the mirror, no eyeballs piercing through your soul. It was just an old mirror. You rode in the car with your friends to a metaphysical shop on the other side of town.  

“Baba Yaga, this is the girl I was telling you about,” said Jiro as she gestured towards you. She was speaking with an elderly lady who wore a dark blue velvet dress and a floral shawl. “Tell her that she needs to get rid of her cursed mirror.”

She padded over to you, strolling with her knotted cane. The woman adjusted her glasses and squinted up at your face. Her eyes narrowed into sharp slits as she examined your pores. Suddenly, the woman grabbed your wrist and splayed your fingers outward. Wrinkled fingers caressed the palm of your hand, bent and examined your fingers. She shook her head from time to time and hummed to herself. 

Your fingers were curled back towards your palm. The older woman pressed both of her hands around you and held on. 

“You have a dark presence hovering over you, that’s for sure. It’s subtle, which makes it that much more evil. You can’t see the spirit in the mirror because it doesn’t want you to. You are in grave danger, young lady. Its power washes over you. The longer you keep that mirror, the more powerful it becomes.” You smiled politely. “I think I’ll be just fine, ma’am.”

“No, you won’t,” the old woman snapped. “You are in danger.” She repeated.

“You harbor a wicked spirit in your house. It will come to you on the night when Selene is covered by Zeus’ dark and stormy shroud. You must get rid of the mirror!” 

You snatched your hand away and spun on your heels. You didn’t wait for your friends. Instead of going to the car, you called for a cab. Your phone vibrated with the text messages they sent you, but you turned your phone on silent. You arrived home just as gray clouds settled across the sky. You didn’t think much of it until you heard rain on your windows and on your roof. You barely made it inside when the storm hit. 

It’s just a stupid coincidence, you told yourself. 

You walked into the hall to set your jacket and purse on the hanger placed in there. You couldn’t resist stopping by the mirror. You looked into it again. You stared into its depths until your eyes began to water. There was still no sign of the ghost your friends warned you about. 

You climbed up the stairs, took a bubble bath, and spent the rest of the night curled up in bed. You turned off the lights before slipping under the covers. Lighting peeled across the sky while thunder rolled. The rain helped you fall asleep, and you were warm underneath your blankets, safe and secure in the knowledge that nothing about the mirror could hurt you.

The sound of shattering glass woke you. You sat up in bed. Your hand instinctively reached for the lamp on your bedside table and tugged on the cord. Nothing. You pulled again, and your light refused to turn on. You checked your phone only to realize that your battery died despite still being plugged into a charger. You swore as you bolted out of bed. Testing the overhead light, you were again disappointed. 

You pulled your door open as quietly as possible and hoped your footsteps were light enough to avoid alarming the burglars. You grabbed an umbrella by your front door. It isn’t much, but the umbrella did have a pointy end. You crept softly, pushed forward by fear to know who was in your house. But as you tip-toed, something in the hallway sparkled and grabbed your attention by the throat. You stepped closer only to realize that they were mirror shards. Pieces of glass were shattered over your floor. The mirror’s frame was bent and split apart. It held together with only a couple bits of wire. 

Bile rose in your throat. You didn’t hear any footsteps or voices. You growled under your breath and glared at the mirror shards lying at your feet. No longer was it burglars you had to fear.

“That wasn’t funny, you guys!” You called out.

No one answered. You rushed back to the front door and reached for the lock, only to find that the lock was still set. Then you realized that nobody had a key to your house. Undoubtedly, your friends wouldn’t stoop so low as to break in just to smash your antique mirror. 

Floorboards creaked. It was in the living room. All your bravery sank like a stone. You dropped your makeshift weapon and scrambled for the stairs. All was cloying darkness. Your hands wrapped tight around the banister as you raced up the stairs. Once you were safe on the second floor, you ran to your room and slammed shut the door. Your fingers groped in the dark for the lock and twisted it. You pushed your desk in front of your door and slowly backed away. 

You walked backward to your bed then stopped dead in your tracks. You quit because you felt something tangible collide with your back. An arm like a redwood trunk snaked around your waist as a hand clapped across your mouth.

“Don’t scream just yet, little thing. Let me enjoy the smell of your fear first.” A voice husked against your ear. 

A tongue dragged along your earlobe. The deep chuckle following after laughed at your shudders as they ripped through your body. You clawed at hand on your mouth, but no amount of scratching could deter him. Whoever he was, he bent his head and pressed his nose where your shoulder and neck met. A hoarse grumble vibrated in his chest, which was bare. You felt his cold, clammy skin press against your back, solid as stone. You felt him through your nightshirt in all his muscled glory. Cold beads of sweat ran down the side of your face as you realized that there was no way you could fight him. 

“That’s a good girl. You know I’ve been watching you. All this time, I’ve been watching you. You must have really liked my mirror,” said he. 

Your brows furrowed into a deep V-shape. Thunder clapped overhead. The old woman’s words rang in your head like funeral bells. It will come to you on the night when Selene is covered by Zeus’ dark and stormy shroud. You felt your blood throb in every vein in your body. Your heart palpitated inside your chest.

“Ah, yes. There we go. I love more than just a little bit of fear. I want you to live in terror of me. You’ll taste that much better for me.”

An orange tongue of flame appeared out of nowhere. It hovered over your desk. Your eyes took a moment to get used to the sudden light. The arm at your waist loosened only for a pair of hands to grab your biceps and squeeze. You hissed as you felt bruises form on your skin.

The man spoke in your ear again.

“Go over there and fetch the light, but do not look back at me. You may only look at me by the light of that candle, do you understand?”

You didn’t. You only saw a tongue of flame flickering while it hovered over your desk. He released you. You padded over to the desk, which blocked your only exit. You reached out just below the tiny flame. In the blackness, your fingers grazed on some warm wax. Your fingers ran up and down along a long slender black candle that appeared in your hand. Your hand trembled as you took it up. 

“Good, good, you’re so wonderfully obedient. Now, slowly turn towards me and look upon the face of your new master.”

You didn’t want to, but your legs move of their own accord. You strained against the intangible threads pulling at your muscles and tendons. You felt the lower half of your body move separately from you, and you watched in horror as your feet turned to face him. You shut your eyes tight. 

“I said ‘look at me.” The man’s—no. The creature’s voice dropped several octaves, and it sounded as if multiple voices erupted from his throat. Your eyes snapped open against your will. Tears made their way down your face as your eyelids were peeled open so wide. Your pupils strained in the darkness briefly. By the lighten of the orange flame, you saw him. 

He was tall, muscled, and inhumanly pale. His skin was the color of moonlight on a grave. And his face gods his face. Belying his otherworldly, unearthly beauty lay the heart of a beast. Gray-purple crescents like grotesque dark circles hung under his eyes. Indigo eyes matched his hair, which he left in a mess. Like he just woke up from whatever hellscape he crawled out of. All of his muscles were taut and lean, further proving that you had no chance of fighting him off. Your feet padded across your bedroom floor towards him. An invisible hand held your chin high so that you met his gaze more clearly.

“My name is Hitoshi, and I was trapped in that mirror for four hundred years. I’ve been waiting for you. The incarnation of the witch who banished me there in the first place!” The creature spat. 

Your blood turned icy cold. 

“Please, please don’t kill me. I’m sorry. Let me, l-let me make it up to you. I promise I won’t hurt you ever again!” 

“My plan was never to kill you.” Hitoshi reached out with his stony hand, grabbed your waist, and pulled you flush against his body. “I plan to make you mine. Forever. Then you will know the horror of being trapped against your will.”

“What? NO!” 

The candle was snatched from your hand. Hitoshi turned and threw you unto the bed. The candle reappeared above your head and several other candles that melted into the bedroom’s shadows, cleaved through the air. Blidnign tongues of fire flickered above your bed. 

Your clothes were ripped off you, and the torn remains bound your hands together to the bedpost above your head. The same was done to your ankles. Hitoshi stood from the bed to admire his work. The black silken pants he wore slithered off his body, revealing his proud, jutting member and the bead of pre-cum on the blunt head. Hitoshi climbed on top of the bed. The bed dipped under his weight. You thrashed about in the vain hope to yank the knots undone. Hitoshi merely laughed at your efforts. 

“I suppose I’ll let you resist the first time. It’ll be more fun getting you to moan while I corrupt you.” His hands dragged upwards along your thigh. “From the inside out.”

You shook your head and cried aloud. No amount of protesting was getting you out of this. Hitoshi licked his lips and stroked his cock as he sat on his knees. He straddled your waist. He was fucking his hand right in front of you. You tried to look away, but a force held your head still, and your eyes peeled open. Hitoshi stroked long, fast, and hard. 

“I-I need…to get my scent all over you. To make sure anyone else who might cause me trouble…FUCK! Tries coming around. You smell…so good!” 

Hitoshi came and sprayed your face, chest, and neck with his cum. The substance was sticky and hot on your skin. He didn’t waste time smearing it all over your breasts, palming your chest, and teasing your nipples. Your body acted on instinct, not out of your desire, and bucked against him. 

“It’s working, isn’t it? Just having my cum on your flesh…makes you fucking wet for me!” He wore the triumphant grin of an incubus who just seduced the most stubborn prude in the land. 

“No, I’m not!” 

“Oh?” 

Hitoshi reached behind him and drove two fingers inside your pussy without warning. He stroked your clit before sliding between your folds and plunged as deep as his fingers could go. Your inner walls spasmed briefly against him.

“What’s this, then?” Hitoshi chuckled. 

“Stop!” 

Far from it, your command made him want to do it more. Hitoshi pushed a third finger inside of you and pumped faster. With his free hand, Hitoshi stroked his cock. Your eyes widened with horror at how quickly he could get it up again.

“Don’t be surprised, little thing. You can’t comprehend what I am and what I can do. Or more importantly, what I’m going to do to you.”

Hitoshi jerked off while sitting on top of you, his balls against your breasts. His fingers filled your cunt and stretched you open. 

“I’m putting in another. Then after you come on four of my fingers, you get the honor of taking this cock.” 

You tried shaking your head, but invisible hands grabbed your hair and pulled. They kept your head still and forced you to watch Hitoshi stroke his own cock and come all over your chest. Again. 

He gave you no warning and very little prep. Hitoshi added that fourth finger. One or two satisfied you, but your pleasure wasn’t on Hitoshi’s mind. He wanted you to come while he stretched you painfully wide. He thrust in deep, almost hitting your cervix. Your cheeks burned a dark bloom at the sound of the wet squelches that your pussy made. Hitoshi pumped faster inside you just while he used his cock as a brush to smear more come on your chest. 

Your hips bucked against him; your knees locked in pain. Hitoshi tied your legs so far apart that they burned, but that didn’t stop him from shoving his fingers all the way in. Your head crashed against the pillow while everything below your neck writhed and shuddered. Hitoshi watched your eyes roll into your skull as you gushed around his fingers.  He waited until your body stopped humping him before pulling his fingers out. Fluid leaked out of your cunt where his fingers had prevented it from staining your bedsheets. 

You whimpered and begged as Hitoshi shifted down your body. He nestled himself between your spread legs. He swiped his fingers across his tongue, put them into his mouth, and sucked them clean. His head rolled back. He groaned from deep in his throat. 

“You taste like ambrosia. I’m going to enjoy fucking sense and humanity out of you.” 

There was no warning. No pleasantries. Hitoshi did what he wanted. He stroked the head of his cock against your clit then aligned himself with your slit. It took one thrust to be buried deep inside of you. His hands grabbed your hips and pulled your lower body close to him. He sank on his knees and pulled his cock out, then plunged it back in. Your legs were stretched to the point of pain, muscles screaming. Hitoshi ignored your pleas.

You screamed and moaned as his cock pounded you. Your insides were being battered by some unearthly creature that escaped a cursed mirror. There was nothing you could do to stop this. His cock was long and hard and reached deep to kiss your cervix over and over. Your walls clenched around him. Hitoshi poured unwanted pleasure into your body and made it sink into your bones. Your hips thrust in time with his; your body writhed like a snake beneath him.

“Tell me you’re mine. Tell me who you belong to. Say it!” Hitoshi drove himself harder into your quivering body.

Your toes curled until they ached. Every limb of your body was shaking with effort. 

“Y-you,” you cried aloud. 

“What’s my name?” Hitoshi slammed his hips down, and your body violently shuddered with each of these movements. 

“H-H-Hitoshi!” 

“Who is your master?”

“You are. You’re my master. P-Please fuck me, sir!”

“Good girl. You’ll be my new favorite pet in no time.”

The room sweltered. How could someone whose body felt so cold make you pant and sweat? Your body writhed against him. You wanted to touch him, feel him, be able to look at his cock plunging inside your cunt. With his supernatural powers, Hitoshi kept your head forward and your eyes glued on him. You couldn’t watch his cock enter, retreat, and return deep inside your walls again. Your thighs were slick with sweat and cum. 

More, more, more.

You needed more. Hitoshi smirked down at you while you slowly lost your mind. Your eyes became blank spaces as his control over you seeped deep into your mind. His essence filled you, just like he was going to do with his cum in just a second. Your walls fluttered and spasmed at his provocation. A light flickered in your eyes. Somewhere in your subconsciousness, you must be screaming with rage. Your body no longer belonged to you and at this moment, neither did your mind. It was mere child’s play for Hitoshi to reach inside and flip the switch. Your dulled eyes rolled into your skull again while your mouth opened wide, and your tongue lulled out. Drool dribbled down the sides of your mouth. He commanded your body to climax around his hard length. You obeyed. 

You gushed, spilling everything you had. There was so much of it that it dripped to your bedsheets and on Hitoshi’s thighs. The tight clenching of your walls was enough to push him towards his own climax. Hitoshi groaned like an animal as he spilled his cum into your womb. Rope after rope warmed your lower belly until it was seeping out of your body. Hitoshi pulled out with little regard for how much it hurt. He remained on his knees to marvel at his handiwork. 

You were covered in him. His white semen staining your skin and made it glisten. The light slowly returned to your eyes. He watched madness creep in as you realized just what happened to you.

Jiro knocked on your door three days later. She stood shocked at the sight of you in the doorway, appearing as you were. You’d grown a bit pale since the last time she saw you. Your neck and shoulders were covered in purple kiss marks. Bruises formed at your wrist that looked suspiciously like handprints. Dark circles hung under your eyes. 

“Y/N, what happened to you?”

“Oh, I met someone recently. Let’s just say he’s really ‘fun.’” The words felt so unnatural coming out of your mouth—both to Jiro and yourself.

“Fun, you say?” Jiro looked at you up and down, unconvinced. 

Hitoshi appeared behind you. He wrapped his arm around your waist and kissed the side of your neck. 

“I’m sorry, but we’re awfully busy right now,” he said. Hitoshi began to close the door on your friend. “Call back some other time.”

Jiro stood on your porch, dumbfounded. 

It couldn’t be, could it? She thought.

She saw it with her own two eyes but didn’t want to believe it to be true. Those eyes which stared through the mirror were the same ones that looked at her with disdain just now. The thing in the mirror was loose.

[psychedelic-ink]

A/N: Hello there! This is my addition to the One Piece of Summer event! If you want to participate you can check @doctorgerth ‘s blog for more info! I’m actually not sure if this fic is summer-y enough but I really enjoyed writing it! The prompts I used for this piece was Meteor shower and Sunset. Enjoy!

Genre: Fluff with a dash of angst / Romance

Pairing: Sanji x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,034

Song I listened to over and over again is here 

Summary: Sanji is a lonely river spirit of the Kohaku river (yes from spirited away. Sue me.) on the night of a meteor shower your paths crosses with each other.  

It all started on the day of a meteor shower. 

The summer breeze blew at your skirt as you gazed upon the dark sky. You were wandering alone and looking for a nice, quiet spot. Especially a spot far away from teenagers sucking each others faces. 

You continued to walk further away from the gathering, your surroundings getting darker by the second, you noticed that you were completely and utterly lost. You sighed. Of course you were lost. Squinting, you scanned the area. There were many bushy trees and daffodils. At the end of everything, you saw one area that was clear of trees and seemed like a good spot to sit and watch the meteor shower. You weren’t going to miss it just because you were lost. 

That’s when you met him. 

His porcelain skin was shimmering under the starlight. He laid down amidst the daffodils with both arms tucked his head. His blond hair was like gold pouring to the ground. A thin, blue kiseru was placed between his pink lips, he blew out a puff of smoke. His eyes were closed, his long blond lashes kissing his cheeks. 

“How long are you going to stare madam?” 

Entranced by his beauty you took a step closer. You noticed that he was wearing a light blue button up shirt and black trousers. The first three buttons of his shirt were left open, exposing more of his snow white skin. Your mouth went dry as you stood just an inch away from him. Finally the man slowly opened his eyes and stared back at you with two dark blue orbs. 

You raised an eyebrow. 

“Your eyebrow is curly?”

The question was more directed to you then to him. A soft smile spread across his face as he blew out another puff of smoke. You noticed that it smelled of vanilla. Before you can examine him further, the man lunged at you and took a hold of your wrist. He pulled you on his lap and panic bubbled up inside of you.

“Stranger danger! STRANGER DANGER!” 

You felt the man tense under you as he let go of your wrist. Quickly your crawled away from him and with your chest bobbing up and down, you stared at him with fear. The man grinned sheepishly as he scratched the back of his head. 

“Sorry,” he took in a puff of smoke. “It’s just that I haven’t been near a human for so long.” 

Your breathing returned to normal as silence, accompanied by the occasional chirping of crickets, filled the atmosphere. You should be running away but you didn’t. The tone in his voice prevented you from leaving him. It was a tone you’ve heard in your own voice many many times. 

Sadness. 

Pulling your knees towards your chest, you decided to stay with him. Learn more about him. 

Wait… 

“What do you mean you haven’t been near a human for so long?” you asked, tilting your neck to the side. “Are you… not human?”

“I am a river spirit.” he replied, propping himself on his elbow. “I’m surprised anyone came here. If you went any further other spirits might have gobbled you up.” 

You eyes going wide, you let out a soft whine. He chuckled at your fear and waved his hand, trying to dismiss what he had just said. 

“Don’t worry, they won’t come near you...now.” as if what he said was completely normal, he gave you a kind smile. “How rude of me, I didn’t introduce myself my name is Sanji. I occupy the Kohaku river.” 

“My name is y/n.” you replied promptly. “Also, just for the record, I know you’re lying. There’s no way you’re a spirit.”

“Is that so,” Sanji hummed. “How do you explain this then?”

With a flick of a finger millions of water bubbled appeared before your eyes. They floated as the breeze moved them along. One bubble kissed your nose and popped, the droplets landed on your face. 

With parted lips, you stood up, never tearing your gaze off of the blond. He seemed pleased with himself as gazed at you. His blue orbs observing your every reaction. With a sly smirk, he lifted himself up from the ground and walked towards you. 

Your breath hitched as he stood an inch away from you, his vanilla scented breath ghosting over your face, he gently placed a hand on your flushed cheek. His thumb slowly caressed your soft skin. You didn’t know what to say or what to do. The only thing you felt was that you were exactly where you had to be at the moment. Meeting him, here, was destiny. You paths were intertwined and from now on neither of you could live a life without one another. 

“You’re here to watch the meteor shower aren’t you?” he whispered, softly. “Let’s watch it together.” 

And that was you first memory of the lonely river spirit. 

                               ╔═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*���══╗

Days passed and you found yourself visiting Sanji nearly everyday. He would always greet you with a wide grin. Your heart would skip a beat whenever you saw him smile. For the first time in your life you felt loved. Sanji was the only thing in your life that felt worth while. You would see him in the depths of the forest, the same forest that Sanji scared you into believing spirits would gobble you up. Most of the other spirits were quite nice actually. 

The only issue was that you had to leave before sunset.

If you stayed even a minute longer you could never return to the human world. When Sanji told you this the first time, you felt that he thought you would leave him and never returned. He had spoken of the rule like it was something to be afraid of. But as long as you were with him you were happy.

The most surprising fact about the spirit was that he absolutely loved to cook. Often the two of you would go on picnics and he would feed you the countless desserts that he made. They would melt in your mouth and most of them made you shamelessly moan. 

Everything was amazing. The two of you could talk for hours and the both of you had suffered from loneliness. You never thought that anyone would be able to understand your feelings. Your hardships. And in a way you were right, no human was able to understand you. 

Each day leaving before sunset became harder. The days gradually became shorter as it signalled summer ending. It broke your heart. You were tired of returning to an empty home and an empty life. You could never imagine a life without him. 

That is until one day you couldn’t find him. 

You looked everywhere for him only to finally find him standing at the edge of a river. With a sigh of relief, you quickly made his way towards him. Your eyes scanned the atmosphere only to see that the river was polluted. Loads of plastic bottles and thrash was floating down stream. The your eyes shifted to Sanji. His usually pale skin was covered in dark, purplish marks and blisters. He looked utterly defeated. That’s when you realized what river this was.  The Kohaku river. 

His river. 

“What happened to you?” you asked, panic bubbling up inside of you. 

Sanji slowly turned towards you. It seemed that he had just noticed your presence which was worrying because he would usually be aware of even a butterfly landing on a flower. There were dark bags under his eyes and seemed like he could collapse at any second. 

“Ah, hello love.” a somber smile formed on his pale lips. “It seems like today might be out last day.”

Your stomach clenched and you could hear your heart pounding in your ears. 

“What do you mean by that?” you asked you voice sounded as it belonged to a stranger. 

Sanji sighed and looked back at the river. 

“My well being is directly linked to the river. Humans,” he clenched his teeth. “They polluted it so much that I can’t purify it anymore.” 

A knot formed in your throat. Tears threatening to fall, your eyes shift between the river and Sanji. You bit your bottom lip as you let out a sniffle. With a shocked expression Sanji gaze landed back on you. His eyes skimmed your features before extending his arm and pulling you into a tight embrace. 

“Don’t worry,” he whispered. “The time I got to spend with you made my unbearable life worth living.”

Your face buried in his chest, tears stung the corner of your eyes. At the same time your mind was racing, because you didn’t want to lose him. You couldn’t. Not after everything you’ve been through. 

With a sudden realization, you tore your face away from his chest and looked up to him. Much to your surprise he was already staring at you. 

“What if,” you began, uncertainty embedded in your voice. “We clean the river?”

“Usually that would work, but I don’t have enough strength to-” 

“I’ll do it!” you exclaimed. “If it can work. I’ll do it.”

An expression of shock ghosted over his face before giving you a tired smile. He closed his eyes and placed his lips on your forehead. He gave it a soft peck before speaking. 

“Promise me you’ll return until sunset.” his cold lips moved against your burning skin. “I’ll lose consciousness soon.” 

Before you can say anything, Sanji’s head fell on to your shoulders and you barely were able to hold him up before he hit the ground. Careful not to drop him, you gently laid him on the grass. The summer wind ruffled your hair as you stared at the lake with determination. 

There was no way you were going to let it end like this. 

                                ╔═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

You kneeled next to Sanji with the last thrashbag in your hand. You were sweaty, wet and honestly your muscles ached. But you were pleased with the results. You glanced at the river. You’ve managed to collect every plastic bottle and thrash that was swimming in it. Now the river was sparkling with the faint light of the sun. 

But the fact that Sanji was still unconscious worried you. All the bruises and blisters had cleared up from his skin. The bags under his eyes were gone.  He seemed more sound asleep then unconscious. Your heart tightened. What if he didn’t wake up? What would you do then? 

The warmth of the sun kissed your skin, alarming you the concept of time. The area you were in was bathed in orange sunlight. You knew what that meant. You needed to leave. 

You took in a sharp breath and took a hold of Sanji’s hand, lifting it up to your lips, you gave the lifeless limb a kiss. A smile tugged at your lips. 

“Don’t worry I’m not going to leave you.” 

Sanji doesn’t wake up until your surrounding are completely engulfed in darkness. The only light source being the stars above. You felt Sanji’s thumb stroking your hand as he woke up. A wide grin spread across your face when you heard him cough. He propped himself on his elbows.

“I thought you promised me you would leave before sunset.” 

Giggling, you threw yourself on him and wrapped your arms around his neck. His hand came around your waist as you smooshed your cheeks together. 

“Technically,” you said, you voice low. “I never promised.”

Sanji chuckled as he brushed his face against your hair. You pulled back in and placed your hands on his cheeks. He seemed healthier than ever. 

“I guess now you’re stuck with me.” you said with a playful smirk. 

“Then I guess my luck has finally turned.”

He leaned in and gave you a soft kiss. You practically melted when you felt his warm lips against yours. Feeling overwhelmed, your eyes teared up and he placed two additional kisses on your eyelids. 

“Thank you.” he whispered. “Thank you for being in my life, y/n.” 

[rosesnink]

The Cursed Heiress, Chapter Four: An Heiress’ Price

A/N: Here we have, another chapter! I worked hard and I’m still working hard for all of this to fit and work. Soon, the chapters will be longer, but worth the read. 

Summary: It’s the time of the party garden, but Joanna’s demons don’t seem to want to leave her mind in such a capital day. 

TW: Minor character death. 

Word Count: 6002 

Previously: Prologue | Chapter I I Chapter II | Chapter III  

“Joanna, please! I don’t want to d-die! I’ll be good!” The boy cried, bleeding everywhere, the field covered in white snow and the assassin nowhere in sight “I’ll be good, please! Joanna, don’t leave me!” His rosy cheeks were gone, all his skin a deadly white with some blue and purple. Joanna was trying to save him, but her magic failed “Joanna, I’m so sorry, for whatever I have done, I am so so sorry!”

Her forehead was against his, crying, holding his hand as she kissed his face and hands, sobbing and shaking, all her gown covered in blood. His blood.

“You are, Thomas. You are so good. Such a gentle, kind, smart guy. I love you, Thomas!” She cried out, watching his light blue connecting with hers. He was dying. There was no coming back. She had to act. “Let’s play a game, a’ight? Close your eyes and imagine you’re with that friendly dog I promised you” She was now fetching slowly her knife “You’re with them in the beach, playing and he’s licking your face. You are happy”

“You are there. With your strange books and hiding a smile. The dog licks you and you laugh a little.” Joanna’s heart broke entirely.

He was in pure pain, and yet he seemed happy with the image. This was her last chance. She lifted the knife as high as she could, gathering her pain and anger towards the bastard who dared to kill that poor, precious boy just because of some ruse between them. With a scream that made the ground shake, she lowered the knife, showing her beloved some piety with the big pain he was. She felt a thud, and then, she hugged his corpse, her heart falling into a dark, deep abyss.

“Joanna! Wake up! Joanna!” She felt Briar’s voice calling her, and she jumped out of her dream, sweating and with tears. Briar handed her a water goblet and drank it like it were ambrosia itself. “Again that nightmare?”. She nodded “Come here.” She hugged her, her heart was now less heavy.

Briar was still Briar, and Joanna was glad that she existed. The image of him dying in such a violent way… Elias told her that this was Gaius’s doing. He hated them, he killed those who she loved. And he wouldn’t stop until she were dead, but the Mills weren’t martyrs, they were above that ridiculous human facet. They were glorious, honorable warriors. Unlike the idiotic mortals that with some basic street-fight, sword-fighting and dumb pistols that barely hurt her were unstoppable.  

She looked around, trying to memorize her mantra when her eyes lied on the mirror… And her heart dropped. There he was, his chest stabbed, his innocent turquoise, teary eyes and stammering something.

“Don’t go, it’s a trap. Don’t trust… him. He’s the key to your destruction”.

“Joanna? Are you alright?”

She tried to reach him, her voice breaking “Thomas. My Tommy”

He also reached for her as he whispered “Don’t go there. It’s a trap” When she was about to ask him again, he already vanished. Her soul dropped to her feet as she sighed, her heart aching and heavy.

She looked at the concerned Briar as she rubbed her back. She leaned her head in her chest and let her calm Joanna as she closed her eyes and remembered giggling with her mother after an annoying patient left.

You know, Joanna. One of the traditions in the Circle to show your beloved or a family member you’re fond of is giving them a brood of your spirit animal. It shows affection, respect and protects your chosen one of the outside dangers. I was about to give your father one, but you know what happened. Maybe, one day, Thomas will have a panther brood”.

They smiled at Thomas playing with his three-years-old sister a game of chase in giggles.

“Perhaps one day, mama.”

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She broke the embrace as she fetched her hunting clothes “Tell Father and Elias that I’ll be there before the first guest arrives” She went to an empty room, opened a portal and got in.

It was wet, fresh and the floor was wet because of rain. She breathed in as she could hear the faint sound of the tribes living their lives. She knew where to go and was running out of time. She took a deep breath and started running, showing that… she was as fast as a vampire. Huh, in a minute she was there. She saw how a mama panther started feeding two of the bundles as the others were slowly dying. She bowed down to the panther as she told her in a special language for animals that if it was fine for her to adopt one of her broods. She growled light in a positive response and fetched the little brood. It was a beautiful girl, amber eyes and not so black.

“I’ll name you Ella”. She saluted goodbye the panther and threw her a piece of meat before leaving.

When she got back, she bathed Ella and taught her some basics, sweet-talking her to how good her new master was. Then, she started the ritual: a protection spell, an offense spell, a defensive spell and some strength and speed, with some animal wits. She fed her as a recompense for being a good girl and kissed her tiny head. She got her to sleep and waited for Mr. Sinclaire to leave her father’s office. She played with her for a little before she heard the lords bid their goodbyes and she hid the tiny brood in her skirts as she nodded a goodbye to Mr. Sinclaire and smiled at her father.

“Hello, father. Any fun with Mr. Sinclaire?”

He chuckled “The usual” He said as he gathered some papers and put them in a safe place. He looked at her with love and tenderness and her thumb rubbed his hand.

“You know, Mama once told me a tradition of the Circle that showed pure love and affection. She wanted to give you one, but you know, the circumstances…”

He nodded with a pained nod “I still grieve her, yes”.

She called Ella and she jumped into the earl’s arms! He chuckled as the little brood licked his face and meowed him a welcome. He scratched her head and ears as she purred her very tiny body in his lap.

“I knew she’d like you”.

“Why a panther’s brood though?”.

Joanna chuckled “It’s affective. It shows that a piece of me will protect you no matter what, that will help you through hard times and love you unconditionally. Don’t tell me you can say no to this bundle of joy” She teased.

The brood meowed with cute eyes and that convinced the earl. He scratched her little jaw and answered “I accept your gift. Thank you, Joanna”.

“I’ll let you both bond”.

She got out of the office as she saw Elias approach. She smiled at him as a greet and saw an amused smile on his face. He barely smiled and when he did, he was up to something. He looked around and then to he whispered “I got a surprise for you. Some new partner to fight with. Come”

She followed him without understanding until she saw a man: He had black eyes, abundant, long hair and a good complexion. He bowed in respect and she did back “His name is Daniel, he’s a highly trained warrior of the Circle and a big promise to dethrone you from your title of ‘Warrior of the Century’. Go easy on him, he has a sensible heart” He mocked as he left them some space.

“Alright, big guy. Do show me your talents”.

They both in defensive position and he ran fast to her, but not fast enough to duck with a cartwheel and throw him a ball of snow and whistled him to come. She ran towards him, jumped very high and punched him to the point to make a severe hole in the floor. He grunted and punched her in the face, thing that…hurted. She yelped and snarled “That…hurts!” And she punched him twice, dodged one punch and blocked the other, kicked him in the knee and with strength, she hurled him out of the way, ran there fast and casted the air spell that sent him away of prying eyes and she threw him a punch at the same time as him, both of them getting bruised. She growled and jumped again, kicking him four times in the face, neck and head and her legs wrapped around his neck and made a deadly spin that threw them both to the ground. He jabbed her leg, making it crack and grabbed her hair, punching her hard again. She grunted and spitted dark blood and with one hand, she pulled back together her broken leg, cracked the bones of her head and knuckles and casted a fire spell, blasting him with a raging inferno… but did nothing.

It can’t be… He is an equal to me!

She understood she was sort of hurting her own kin and sputtered “We don’t really have to go on. It’s pretty clear we’re equally good”

If Elias said a damn thing about this moment, she’d stab herself before admitting it.

But he didn’t seem to be in the mood, for he grabbed her by the neck and hurled her far away in the forest. She got on her feet fast and yelled “Fine! I see you! You want the big dog defeated? Well, you’ll have to do better than that” She ran towards his direction, jumping on his neck and waist and throwing them both to the floor and punching his shoulder hard, making him grunt and she made a backflip, getting on position and threw him a kick on his waist, making him double faintly, then a spin that drew a high kick on his head and got her body on the ground but her chest and head, throwing him on the floor and she spinned on the floor, grabbing him by the neck and grunted “You’re no match for me” She got up, lifting him up with a super strength out of nowhere and hurled him to a big tree and ran fast, kicked him straight in the inner ribs and made an spectacular needle that sent him flying up to the sky, landing on whatever place it was. She wiped out the blood off her nose and yelled “That happens when you come for a Mills, asshole!”

When she went back to Edgewater, the servants and the Dowager Countess gasped when she saw her granddaughter “Joanna, what happened to you? Your left eye and your cheekbone is purple, not to mention your inner lip is bleeding!” She screamed horrified. Joanna rolled her eyes and got off the servant’s grasp and assured “Give me ten minutes and I shall be a new woman. Just trust me” She got into the house and looked into her room’s mirror and started the healing spell on her face, how the bruises now disappeared. She sighed happy and heard some humming down the hall. She found Miss Parsons there, humming a song happily and she leaned teasingly on the frame, watching her silently, in the shadows.

The way her skirts moved, her hair was caressing the air and her tan skin illuminated the boring white walls amazed Joanna. She smiled as she approached her like a sleathy cat and asked “Enjoying yourself?”.

Miss Parsons gasped as she turned on her heels to see the young lady and mumbled “My lady! I didn’t saw you at all! I was awaiting the Dowager Countess…”.

“I bet my position to this estate that is to do some ladylike things for the garden party” She vowed. Miss Parsons chuckled as a worrisome Dowager Countess got into the house and her jaw dropped when she saw how flawless Joanna looked like now.

“Joanna, you look…” She coughed and composed herself “… like you’re ready to learn some lessons from Miss Parsons”,

“And what lessons could those be?” She muttered mockingly.

“In the garden party you’ll see a lot of dancing. Since you seem to handle the leisure, I summoned Miss Parsons here to teach you some lessons. I even arranged some new shoes for you” She said, proud of herself.

“I don’t like you spending money on me” Joanna protested.

“Don’t worry, dear, it wasn’t a big purchase. Go on, try them!” She encouraged.

She looked between Miss Parsons, her grandmother and the shadow of Elias and sighed, getting off her shoes and tried on her newest shoes “I guess I could learn more of the English culture” She shrugged.

“That’s the spirit! Now, I’ve got some new dances you’ll love!”.

“Go on, by all means”.

And with that, her grandmother excused her and the minutes flied as she learned how to dance a noble English dance. After that, she said she had to do an arrangement and portal-ed some flowers and money to Thomas’s family before she tried on a new pink dress and went to the garden.

Let the party begin, indeed.

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The guests were dancing and chatting, some eating pastries and mingling. Elias was on a secret trip and she was on her own. She spotted her father talking to Mr. Sinclaire (again) and curtsied in greet.

“Father, sir. Don’t you both look… dashing?” She commented to both men.

Her father chuckled as Mr. Sinclaire blushed and sputtered some nonsense before composing himself and answered “I appreciate it, my lady. You look… adequate for the festivities”.

Joanna scoffed mockingly “I’ll pretend I heard you say ‘rather dashing, too’ than… adequate of all adjetives that you could’ve used”

The earl patted her shoulder and asked “Elias told me that the parties and balls are very different where you come from”.

A smile on her face appeared “Indeed! Our musicians play more danceable songs, our dresses are not so tight for our figure and the gardens are far more decorative and full of flowers that you’d never find in years. Our Queen attends every ball and dances with every guest she can, she even sings! Every person can dance with anyone they’d like and all crea- ahem, other people of other kingdoms come to them and mingle, even the servants! I’m sure mama showed you one dance or another”.

“Ah, yes! She taught me that courting dance with a red rose on our mouths and lots of spinning and heel-slam and rather low dips” He gushed. She smiled wide.

“The Rose Petal! That is the most sensual and passionate dance all over this universe. It is danced by literal soulmates. The rose in each of their mouths represent the red thread. Mama taught you that one to say ‘you’re my forever soulmate’.” She beamed at the tale.

Mr. Sinclaire listened closely as he commented “What else you do in parties, rather than shockingly hang out with other people and dance? There must be a purpose to invite such a big number of people”.

She scoffed “Not all is about conspiracies and business, just pure leisure and fun. My city is rather… wild. We don’t know what will happen tomorrow of if we’ll wake up safe, so we just… follow our heart. We also have our own duties, but I assure you, these are different to yours”.

“How so?” He cocked his head to one side.

“We don’t sell poor girls to marriages to men who are way older than them. In fact, marriage is not so important. Both sexes have the same goal: wisdom, glory and sense of duty to their legacies. We can be valid without a husband or a wife, money and titles. Our Queen Amalas came from the dust and greater dangers of the street as a member of dangerous thieves to be chosen royalty. Every century we choose a new monarch”.

Both men’s eyes went wide as they both asked at the same time “You choose your monarch?”.

Joanna giggled as she nodded “Yes! It is a monarch duty to give, help and assist their people more than some random group of rich pricks.”

Mr. Sinclaire was impressed and surprised “Intimate dances, no marriage, equal education, peasants that turn into monarchs… Your city is very odd, my lady.”

She chuckled and teased “You mean… ahead of yours?”.

He sputtered until he recomposed himself “That’s… one way to see it, yes”.

The earl looked between them, amused and commented “I see you both don’t need me anymore. Alas, I’ve seen a… tenant of mine I must do some business”.

And before she could ever stop him, he left. She looked at Mr. Sinclaire and coughed “So… you seem like the kind of man who isn’t very keen of garden parties”.

“It’s not about the party, my lady. It is the leisure”.

“Let me guess… Big crowds annoy you, most people annoy you and dancing and chatting is not your forte?”.

“I- You assume my personality very quickly”.

“It’s all in the actions and body language, sir. One of the first things I was taught: psychology. The way you move your hands, response and stand in the party tells more of you than you can imagine”.

“Psychology? Isn’t that more of… science?”.

“Not at all! More like a literate thing. And some knowledge in human leisure, study of behavior…” She smirked “Didn’t you told me that small talk is not your forte? Well, try beat me at a deep conversation. Unless… you’re scared of a woman who seems to be smarter on these things than you, a man’s kind of conversation topic”. She challenged, a smirk on her face and getting close to him “And I can’t deny that a man who can trap my mind in a deep conversation wakes in me such a passion…” With one finger she caressed the vein of his hand and he shuddered and looked straight to his eyes “That if you can handle my wits”.

“You assume that the nobility is ignorant?”.

“The majority of them, yes. I’m still looking for exceptions. No luck yet”.

He got a step back as he looked at her warily. She never stopped the eye contact, and neither did he. It was the first time she felt in an uncomfortable silence, a calm one. They were still talking with the eyes, no words needed. Until a loud complain of Miss Sutton interrupted them.

“It can’t be! I thought I had it, Mr. Marlcaster! Didn’t you see that?”.

“I did, but it seems like you missed”. Joanna could sense he wanted to hurl himself to the sun, and he couldn’t blame him. Human parties were torturous. Mr. Sinclaire looked at her.

“Have you ever played skittles, Lady Joanna?”.

“I…” Her breath catched as she remembered it.

She concentrated her stick as she bit her lip, trying to hit that damn red ball to win. She felt two familiar hands surrounding her hips and kissing her cheek. She chuckled and leaned to the touch.

“We’re in public, Tommy”.

“Is it forbidden to hug my beautiful fianceé?”.

“No, but we’re making one hell of an spectacle”.

He guided her hands in a position and helped her hit it… and pointed the damn ball! She laughed and kissed Thomas’s cheek. A little blush was over there and Mary chuckled.

“Good game, guys, but those hands to yourself”. And with that, they separated and Thomas giggled. She chuckled and bite her lip, blushing a little.

After the match, they found themselves in the gardens of Thomas’s employer house, kissing and giggling, his hands clumsily moving on her back as hers were on his neck and hair, sighing of happiness.

“Thomas, I—”.  

“Shh, don’t worry, Jo. Only when you mean it and you’re ready”.

She nodded and kissed him again.

The garden and all the eyes on her came again as she snapped out of the memory and composed herself.

“… Did. One time, two years ago. Haven’t played much. I do remember the basics though”.

“I’ll let you know, my lady, I haven’t lost in years”. Mr. Sinclaire commented with a smug face.

She scoffed and challenged “I’ll let you know, too… I never lose”.

“Perhaps you can prove me wrong”.

“Oh, sir, that’s my job. Prove smug cocky pricks wrong”.

“This should be very interesting”. He smiled, like a Greek statue and she adjusted her bun.

They both catched positions and Mr. Sinclaire handed Joanna a game ball.

“Ladies first… you do remember how to play, right?”.

She looked at him “This game is awfully simple. I roll the ball down the alleyway and try hit the red pin, yes”.

Mr. Woods set up the game and she took a deep breath as she looked at the game, unconsciously bite her lip and repeated the rest of the rules over her breath

“If you knock it over, you’ll score over every pin I hit. The most points I gather during the five legs, the more chances to win”. She looked at Mr. Sinclaire “Step aside and watch this”.

She turned the focus on the alleyway and calculated for three seconds a half before she aimed to hit the center pin and knock the four legs! She smirks to herself and winks at Mr. Sinclaire.

“I have to admit it was quite impressive, but you haven’t seen the master yet”.

“Hah! Dazzle me indeed!”.

She retrieved the ball across the lawn and handed it to Mr. Sinclaire. Their fingers brush for a moment and she feels a bolt of electricity, but she ignores it. Men… they’re all talk.  

Mr. Sinclaire rolls the ball and it rolls and rolls faster until… crash! Eight of the pins fall over, the last one remaining wobbles back and forth, but stays upright. Joanna observes the tactic showing no emotion. Mr. Sinclaire’s smug face stays still “That’s eight points for me”.

Joanna raises an eyebrow “Don’t go ahead yourself, it’s only the first round. What reaction did expect, to be honest? Clap you and praise you? Pah!”.

Mr. Sinclaire got taken aback by her words, but stayed composed.

“You think you can do better?”.

“That shot you’ve seen it’s just a warm up. I’m a master shooting things” She winked at him with an expressionless face and grabbed the ball.

During the next few minutes, as the game comes closer to the end, everyone gathers to see how it might end between some whispers and sushes she can perfectly hear. At least they’re not calling her bastard… for now. She trusted no one in that garden but her father.

“Mr. Marlcaster, oh Mr. Marlcaster! This is so intense I can hardly control my heart palpitations!” Miss Sutton commented.

“… Try, Miss Sutton. There’s not much at stake”.

Is he always a dipshit to her or it’s just bitchy genes?

Miss Bowman agreed “But she’s right! Lady Joanna is winning by two points!”.

Joanna raises an eyebrow to them, wondering if they’d survive seeing her in battle with the rabid werewolves. Those raged creatures always leave her covered in blood and with a very ugly scratches like some wild raccoon. Mr. Sinclaire hands her the skittles ball.

“Last turn, my lady. Make it count”.

“By making it count you mean wiping the floor with your defeat? Oh, I will”.

Before he can answer, she lifts her index finger, making him stop and lines up to strike. She decides to make it more wonderful and her left index finger and thumb makes a silent, blind spell to hit the red pin without effort and looks straight to Mr. Sinclaire, smiling at him seductively. He watches her intently.

She releases the ball… and hits the red pin! All the people clap and Mr. Sinclaire is shocked. She sends him a faint kiss, making him fluster. She smirks “Buena suerte”. She hands him the ball and crosses her arms.

Mr. Sinclaire hurls the ball… but it only grazes far the right one! Joanna tries not to laugh. Ah, she loves putting smug pricks on their places so much.

“What?” He complains.

“Aaand the novice is the victor! You were a nice rival, though, if that helps”.

The crowd around applauds and she smirks at him.

“I may say that you certainly kept me on my toes, my lady”.

“That’s my thing, sir”.

“By any chance you speak Spanish?” He asked curiously.

“Sí, hablo español, French, Prussian, Italian and Native American. I speak also other dead languages and…” She also knew some intergalactic languages and demonic languages, but she scandalized the poor man enough “That’s it”.

Mr. Sinclaire was certainly impressed “You must be quite a fluid speaker of those languages in such a young age and your former rank”.

She shrugged “I’m a quick study”.

“For a woman who thought herself as rusty in skittles, you were quite… impressive”.

“What can I say? I raise in a better way, like a Phoenix”.

“I believe a rematch is in order?” He suggested, a beaming smile on his face.

Joanna chuckled in delight “Eager to see me wiping the floor with your reputation, sir?”.

“I assure you, my lady, my ‘reputation’ won’t be seem damaged. Though I can’t say the same about yours”.

“I can take care of my reputation just fine, sir. Do set the pins! A new game is afoot!”.

But before anyone could react, the dowager countess called Joanna across the lawn. She sighed as she looked at the tall man beside her “Rain check, mayhaps?”.

“My dear Joanna, there you are!” The dowager beamed.

Nefertiti, my Goddess, this better be good.

Her grandmother approached the two of them, and Joanna noticed an older man trailing closely behind her. She raises an eyebrow at them both and shows her usual poker face.

“Joanna, I would like to formally introduce you to the Duke Tristan Richards of Karlington”.

So, that was the old man who seemed unable to find a wife sooner? He better be worth it.

“How do you do, Lady Joanna?”.

She took him in and tried not to grimace.

Is this a punish, my Goddess? Because if it’s the case, you have outdone yourself with me.

The Duke kissed her hand intently, not letting go and she had to fight the instinct to snap his jaw like a wooden stick. Like, really hard.

“Even since your arrival, I have been counting the minutes to finally meet you”.

In that moment, she wanted to hurl herself to the sun and die burnt.

“You Grace… I also looked forward meeting, well, you”. No. Not at all. “My dear lady grandmother talked nothing but—”

“I can only hope my charms and good looks haven’t disappointed”.

“I… your what?”

“In fact” he continued “They sung glorious tales of my good deeds and handsomeness!”.

Oh, if he heard the ‘songs’ of Elias and his heroics and how fast he got in the maid’s bed, he’d be crying in a corner, buried and in Hell.

The Duke tries to pull her close, but she is way stronger than him and remains in her position, shocking both men for a second. The Duke smiles aggressively to Mr. Sinclaire.

“What do you think you are—”

“Lady Joanna, you shouldn’t waste your time among common folk like here Mr. Sinclaire when you deserve so much more!”.

She releases the grab with a small move and her poker faces turns into a wary one “I appreciate your advice, but I’m grown enough to know my worth and who I ‘waste’ my time with. I was not so long ago… what did you said? Common folk?”.

Mr. Sinclaire seemed shocked at the answer but remained composed and the Duke seemed to snap at her, but recomposed himself with a smug smile “But perhaps he may have told you tales of my greatness?”.

If they start gauging their manhoods I’ll cast them a spell to get lost.

“What ‘greatness’ do you refer, Your Grace? I was under impression that all those tales were merely fiction”.

Oof, I’ve seen injures in battles that looked ugly, but that one? That would’ve sent him flying across the damn forest, she thought to herself, trying not to laugh.

“If you think hard enough, sir, I’m sure that something will come to mind”.

Apart of you being such an imbecile?

“Tell me, how is Ledford Park anyway? I haven’t seen it since—”

“It’s better than the last you left, Your Grace. If you will excuse me. Lady Joanna, Dowager Countess… Duke Richards”.  And with that, he left.

Joanna turned to Duke Richards and rolled her eyes “If this is the part where everyone expects me to meddle in a gentlemen’s issues… Then, I shall pass of asking anything. You’re both grown enough”.

“Don’t worry. Mr. Sinclaire has never been fond of me. I think he’s jealous”.

“There’s plenty to be envious of! Your good looks, your fortune, good reputation…”.

She raised an eyebrow to the dowager countess but said anything.

“Ah, yes, poor Mr. Sinclaire. He lacks everything I have… I pity the man, honestly”.

Well, I pity you. You’re just a pathetic gramps who cannot accomplish anything by yourself and lacks of personality.

She saw a Royal Guard of Amalas and raised her finger again as she approached him. A Royal Guard would never approach someone if it were anything but serious. He had a message in there and a worrisome gaze.

“Azat. Is something wrong? Is Elias injured?”.

“Worse, ma’am. Much worse. Here, read” He handed her the paper and read the message:

My dear child, I have a very bad news you must know before anything may happen.

I have heard that someone has placed a price upon your head, all based on a prophecy that assures that you may bring destruction to our universe and wants to wipe your blood.

All the kingdoms are now preparing to hunt you down and follow the anonymous leader that remains in the shadows.

I must tell you what I know: you have a power that you’ve started to develop. You are not a mistake, child. You were supposed to born. You have a special, unique bloodline that upholds the greatest power of them all. All the reigns awaited your birth, but there are some conservative creatures that want you made ashes. But you must hold strong and await until it’s safe to come to me and have the real conversation. All the path you are about to cross, it’s all to shape you to be the greatest change that all the creatures have witnessed.

Stay strong, train hard and nurture your wiles. We may seek each other soon.

Yours Sincerely,

Queen Amalas and Holy Voice of the Goddess Nefertiti.

All the world seemed to stop as she processed everything. The voices, how she unconsciously closed the letter so no one could see it, how her grandmother called her to check on her and Duke Richards. Even her Father was there, calling her to come back to reality and the whispers of the crowd. All of that was distant, it all froze.

She was something made up. She was never desired by her mother, she was a duty. And her poor father… he knew all of that? It all made an awful sense: her super-speed, her sudden strength, those belonged to a vampire. But there were already some hybrids of that. And the letter vowed that she was unique in her species.

What the hell I am?

She needed to get out, she needed to think, she needed to breathe. She pushed away all of the people and ran fast, very fast. She found herself of all sudden in the depths of the forest. She looked around, her heart beating fast. Her head was spinning, the world was spinning. She was shaking, her whole body like a bomb reaching its explosion.

Don’t hold back, my child. Do it. Release it.

She parted her arms and screamed as hard as she could, making the whole earth shake and the wind like a raging gale. She dropped on her knees, trying to breathe, her whole body dry and allowed herself to be weak. She’d come back later.

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When she came back to the party, they all behaved like anything happened, but her Father reached her and embraced her tight.

“My child, what happened? You were pale”.

“I’ll tell you later. This is not the place to discuss it”.

He sighed as he rubbed his thumb on her hand and smiled in act of courage.

“Wait in here. I have one surprise”.

He reached a glass and everyone looked at him.

“If I may have everyone’s attention… I’d like to say a few words”. Joanna was puzzled at his words as everyone gathered around her father. “The last year was a rough one. I lost my son, Harry, but within that sorrow, I discovered the existence of my newly-discovered daughter, Lady Joanna”. He smiled as the next words went out of his mouth “We haven’t known each other for long, yet in a short time I see that Edgewater holds a special place in her heart… Her love for these lands reminds me of my own.” He looked straight to her eyes as he dedicated that sentence to her and only her “My darling girl, I know I haven’t been there for you in your childhood and had endured bad things to come to me, but I’d like it to make it up to you”. He smiles widely in what it seems like an announcement “I’d like to announce here and now that I have rewritten my will. When I pass away, and I do hope that it’ll be for years, that the Edgewater state will fall to Lady Joanna Mills of Edgewater!”.

Her mouth dropped as she realized what just happened “That... Would make me an heiress! I—I’m not often left speechless!”.

“Joanna, I hoped for this since the day I sent for you, but I knew the odds were good that prove you unsuitable”.

The countess approached the earl and hissed in his ear “And she has!”.

The earl ignored her as he took Joanna’s hand in his.

“Since our first meeting, you have proven yourself over and over that you are my blood and a suitable heiress of the Edgewater estate”.

“Father, I’ll do everything in my hand to honor you and your legacy. I swear it”.

This was Nefertiti’s will? To be an heiress? No, there must be more. She knew the goddess’s schemes and with a price in her head, she’d be fighting time trial. Her new, flourishing powers, the estate, all those people she met and would meet… it all had a purpose, and she’d discover it soon.

Her father pulled her aside, speaking quietly “I know this goes against your laws in the circle, there is a stipulation I had to make to ensure your destiny. I know it might be too much, but there’s a mortal rule here that for inherit Edgewater, you must marry someone of suitable rank”.

“What? You must be joking! I cannot marry a mortal! It is my duty to marry someone in the Circle! I must be equal with my spouse!”.

“It is the only way to ensure that the estate will be safe and yours. But to help you out... you’ll make your debut in this London season! You’ll be leaving in a few days’ time!”

No… not this. She had to catch her hunter and find a mortal spouse… how the hell would she do that without be disowned or killed?

Whatever her goddess is pretending to do with her, it might be the most difficult quest a witch has ever faced. But she was a Mills. She’d find her destiny and make justice to her mother. Whatever it takes.

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Tagging: @lorirwritesfanfic​  @missameliep  @hellospunkiebrewster​ @kamilahsqueen @marlcasters​ @park-nazario​​ @amomentofsinclairity​ @princess-geek​ @lovemychoices​ @nia-kamilah​ @i-put-the-sin-in-sinclaire​  

[dropletsofink]

Rowaelin Children Headcanons

So, children are rare amongst the Fae, but as we all know, Rowaelin are Rowaelin.

Their eldest born is a girl with shining golden hair and pine green eyes like her father. She cuts her hair herself- all the better for fighting- and is always covered in cuts and scratches. She inherited Aelin’s fiery spirit and wilfulness, never one to refuse a dare from anyone, least of all Manorian’s son- handsome bastard- and insisted that she train with her parents. She inherited no magic from them, but that didn’t discourage her. If anything, it made her more determined to become skilled in most forms of combat, so that she was never considered weak, or helpless. She’d run through Oakwald with her Aunt Lysandra, outspeeding her even when Lysandra was in her ghost leopard form. Lysandra treasured those outings. By the time she was 15, she was known as “The Steel Fury” throughout Terrasen, both because of her favoured weapon- the Sword of Orynth, given to her by her Uncle Aedion- and because of the flaming temper that rivaled even Aelin’s. Her name was Lyria.

Her younger brother, the second born, was a natural scholar. He had silver hair, just like Rowan, and Aelin’s Ashryver eyes. He had a natural affinity for wyrdmarks, learning the spells as soon as he could read. While he was less explosive than his elder sister, he was the master of sarcasm. Just imagine a snarky silver-boy being chased through the halls by a furious-looking Lyria swinging a club. That was a pretty common sight in the Castle of Orynth, much to everyone’s amusement. Dorian had a particularly soft spot for him, and they’d be seen in the Library of Orynth, both poring over the books, and comparing their favourite reads. Aelin would frequently join them, wailing that Dorian had replaced her for her son. His name was Sam.

The thirdborn, albeit having Rowan’s silver hair, green eyes and dark tan skin, was in every way Aelin. He inherited her magic, the endless well of fire, and everywhere he went, heard the title ‘Heir of Fire’. He once asked his mother what it meant, and she only smiled sadly. He would relentlessly explore the palace grounds, looking for abandoned hideaways and secret passages, which he found an abundance of. He was usually joined by Lyria, but she would get bored and go to hunt down another beast. Usually, he’d escape to the hideouts he found to avoid Aelin’s insistence that he learn how to control his fire. An accident during his younger years involving his flames had resulted in a scar that ran down the left side of his face, from his temple all the way down his neck. He had no intention to use the fire ever again, or ever learn to control it. He enjoyed pulling pranks on his siblings, usually joined by Fenrys, while Rowan turned a blind eye and chuckles as he set up the traps around the castle. He’d be long gone when a piercing screech followed by an ‘I’ll kill you!” echoed through the castle, hiding in one of the secret passageways. Fenrys would frequently ruffle his hair and help him plan the pranks. His name was Connall, and Fenrys sometimes even saw some of his brother in him.

The youngest child was everyone’s favourite. Her eyes, blue as the summer sky, would always be sparkling with joy. She never brushed her hair, letting it stick up around her face like a silver halo, and loved more than anything else when her father picked her up and swung her around. Her magic, inherited from Aelin, was her water affinity from Mab’s line. She never practiced it extensively, but was always the one to take care of Lyria’s cuts and bruises from sparring. Aelin would almost weep with pride at the sight of her tiny girl, sternly talking to Lyria about the alarming rate at which she got hurt. Lyria would profusely apologise, prompting a glowing smile from the tiny fae child. She loved pretty dresses just like her mother, and would always warn Rowan against crumpling her dress with a glare when he picked her up. He’d then press a kiss to her forehead and ruffle her thicket hair. Aelin named her Marion.

Aelin would treasure the moments when she could just relax with her family, book in her lap, Rowan leaning into her side with a hand on her swollen belly, children squabbling around her. Her being here, them with her, it was all proof that the war was behind them. They’d won. They were happy. But that still didn’t stop her waking suddenly in a cold sweat, terrified that it was all another one of Maeve’s illusions.

[scribeofmorpheus]

Star Wars: The Rebel Queen

Prologue: Wreathed in Flame

Pairing: Poe Dameron x (OFC) Princess Calista Ordell

Series Masterlist | About Thesmora | Main Masterlist | A03

Words: 1k | Warnings: Ramblings of a delusional fanfic writer... Nothing.

A/N: This is the prologue so we won’t meet the main characters in this chapter, this scene sets up the stage for another character who will become important as we go along. I hope you give this fic a chance, it’s 90% original characters I know, but I’ve been struggling to get this out into the ether and... here it is. Also, this fic takes place between TFA and TLJ.

Somewhere in the Outer Rim…

"I think I lost him," Mokk-Toh breathed heavy, sweat trailing down his face along his proud age lines. There was no fear in his eyes. No, that had been trained out of him at the academy, but something was hiding behind his apathetic mud coloured eyes, a failure to reconcile. An internal schism.

"Contact me as soon as you meet with your contact," Lenora's hologram relayed in an unwavering tone. Her voice a beacon of strength in the fray.

Mokk-Toh gave a slow nod, his eyes closing for a second too long.

A chiming sound rippled through from the hologram. Lenora turned and sighed, something disturbed her, but now wasn’t the time to offer his ear. "My sister requests an audience with me."

Lenora looked him in the eye, a youthful smile reversing the signs of age from her face for a brief moment. The cold blue projection of the transmission washing away all of her warm colours. And yet, tranquillity took purchase in Mokk-Toh’s thoughts, calm waves washing away the jagged glass that littered across the golden shores of his mind.

Lenora always had this effect on him. She was his queen and the power she had over him was unquantifiable. She was the only one who ever made Mokk-Toh feel fear, fear from vulnerability. From a look so simple, so earnest, he felt like he had been permitted to breathe again. The pain knocking against his joints was starting to ebb away.

"Be careful," Lenora said sincerely. "Come back to me."

Her words meant something else.

Through the years, Mokk-Toh had always given her the same answer, "Don't I always?"

His words meant something different too.

This was their way, their mantra through the years; substituted words for the ones they could never be allowed to say aloud.

Lenora's smile grew wider, her hand pausing for a moment before the hologram cut out leaving Mokk-Toh alone to bandage his wounds under the cover of damp, mossy steam tunnels. He tore a piece of cloth from his coat, wrapping the blue material around the long cut than ran up his arm- blood appearing as dark spots on the fine material.

Resting his head against the damp wall, Mokk-Toh used this time of quiet to rest his eyes and regain some strength. He had been hunted from one quadrant to the next, relentlessly. The bounty-hunter was a force of reckoning, a rageful spirit trapped beneath soldered armour.

Mokk-Toh had heard whispers of such a man through the ages, he had prayed they were just that, whispers in the dark, but now he wasn’t so sure that this ghost was completely a ghost. The underworld called him Versengen and he was shaping up to be a worthy adversary.

The air began to tingle. There was a disturbance. Something unhinged was disrupting the calm that Mokk-Toh savoured. It wasn't until the clanky sound of metal meeting concrete resonated through the abandoned tunnels that Mokk-Toh realised he was being hunted again.

Despite the contusions and seeping cuts that wore his body down, Mokk-Toh gripped the wall and forced his legs to go on. As he ran, flames began to seek him out, hungry and volatile, the heat almost close enough to touch.

A thud echoed behind him as the explosion kept clawing towards him like a rabid dog. The pressure of a bruise on his leg forced him to hobble, the fire sticking to the cylindrical walls of the tunnels with the adhesion of water. Droplets of moisture fizzling out into pitiful clouds of steam.

"How long do you think you can keep this up?" A distorted voice behind the wall of flames bellowed out. Breathing morphed into a mechanical whir from the blocked mouthpiece of his helmet, each breath was slow and purposeful. It was clear now that Versengen didn't run after his prey, the flames did that for him.

Mokk-Toh could all but taste the anger hiding behind those taunting words, it was contagious, like a sickness. Rage was always so easy to tap into, but it was also poisonous.

As he kept up his fight, one foot in front of the other, one foot a misplaced step from being devoured by flames, Mokk-Toh spotted a forking path leading to a spillway.

"I will find you," Versengen promised as the flames died down, replaced by a thick curtain of black smoke. He was all but foaming at the mouth.

When Mokk-Toh looked behind him he saw the bounty-hunter emerge from the blackness.

Versengen was a monster stitched together from the remnants of older, more obsolete monsters. His armour pieced together from fallen Stormtroopers- the red plating on his chest scavenged from a shock trooper, the camo-green helmet and knee padding stolen from a scout, and a scorched black arm ripped off a death trooper.  Scratches, indents and charred metal plates imposing upon the greens, blacks and reds of his patch-work armour. Ashen marks a clear indication of his proclivity for fire. The flames that once devoured his cloak were nothing more than singe marks now. It was like he found solace in being bathed in flame the same way Mokk-Toh would find solace in Lenora’s warm sea-foam eyes.

Mokk-Toh stopped dead in his tracks when he came to the edge of the spillway. The jump a long way down. The water at the bottom too peaceful in contrast to the perilous atmosphere above. He clutched his collar and steadied his breathing.

Versengen's heavy footsteps had stopped a few feet away, another incendiary grenade pressed between his palm and thumb. Mokk-Toh imagined him smiling beneath his verdant green helmet.

Versengen tilted his head to the side, watching Mokk-Toh debate between fighting and jumping. With an exhale, he dropped the grenade, pressure trigger activating, and the sound of a spring popping as metal met concrete once more.

Mokk-Toh closed his eyes, imagining Lenora's smile and finding strength in that fleeting picture, fingers wrapping around the data-chip looped around his neck. The wind trickled against his nape, his loose hairs brushing forward, and with determination, he stepped off the edge. Just then, the hissing roar of growing flames danced to life.

Versengen's unhinged laugh seemingly feeding the flames.

Mokk-Toh's body hit the water like a tonne of bricks, an unnatural sound rippling into the waves as he felt a bone rub against another and snap. The force of the fall smacking against the base of his skull like a lead pipe to the face. An unintended gasp forced what little air he had swallowed bubble out. The distorted sight of orange flames viewed beneath blue waters transformed into his new sky. White speckles bombarded Mokk-Toh's dark eyes until all he saw was a sheet of white.

“Come back to me.”

“Don't I always?”

A venomous sneer echoed down through the water, "This isn't over..."

To be continued...

Read Chapter One: Immolation