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smuttyfang · 1 year ago

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James March, Sadistic Charm (Part 2)

Final!

Even though you've been with James for a while now, your first Devil's Night is much more intense than you could even begin to suspect. (TW: average AHS violence and sex)

Words: 2,579

Who could have known that you would end up in this situation? Certainly not you. A toy for some serial killer that everyone thought didn't exist anymore. Oh, how horribly wrong they all truly are. If only they had any idea that his presence was still on this Earth, they would be shaking in their boots.

But not you.

Blood. Death. The stingy smell of the hotel. It no longer phased you. It was second nature for you to murder, to please him. That's all the motivation you ever needed to kill. One look at him, and that's all. He had complete control over you. Everyone knew it. You knew it, and you didn't mind in the least. You were quite happy and content with doing anything he wanted you to do. Even though some people tried to convince you otherwise.

"You seemed like such a sweet girl when we first met." Liz Taylor said to you as she poured you a stout drink. Rum and cola. You made a habit of frequently coming to the bar to chat with her. She was entertaining and lovely company to be around. She sighs. "How could you just let him do this to you?" You take the drink. You wrack your brain trying to find a reasonable explanation, your finger tracing around the rim of the glass.

"Liz, I don't even understand it myself. He has such charm. Such an aura about him. It drew me in, that's why I came here in the first place. I needed to find him." You lean your head against your hand, your reasoning still didn't seem to make sense to any person who had normal common sense.

"Still don't know why you had that dream either, do you?" You shook your head. "I believe that all dreams mean something.. Maybe it was meant for you to come here. For all of this to happen." Taking another drink, you huff.

"I can't rightly imagine why, but thank you for trying to understand at least." A smile graced your lips. Liz just had a way of making a person feel better, as any good bartender should.

"You may be dead, but even dead company can be more entertaining than some of the living that happen upon my bar." Sharing a laugh with her, you can't help but take it all in. She was a friend, the small bit of peace you could really find in this place. Finishing up your drink, you suddenly feel that familiar dark presence behind you. You don't bother to turn around, you knew it was him. After all this time, you can easily feel when he is close to you. "Ah, speak of the devil. Need a drink James?"

"Absinthe. Just coming to check on my lovely toy." He took your hand into his and kissed it lightly. Sure, some people would be offended or upset about being called a toy for someone. Some. You found it an honor, and quite endearing in all truth.

"How kind of you. I'm fine James. How are you?" Liz brings his absinthe over and he takes it all down in one hit. It still made you cringe a bit, absinthe was far too strong for a whole drink at once.

"I'm doing quite well my dear, tonight is Devil's Night! Your first one. I hope you are excited for the occasion." He became overly ecstatic. Everyone in the hotel had told you about this night, and it had finally arrived. You were scared, but the hint of excitement still tingled at your flesh. "This one will be your initiation into our little group. Prepare yourself soon. A dress is awaiting you on your bed. Don't be late my dear." He kissed at your cheek, rubbing it so lovingly. "As always, a treat for later. If you do well tonight." He began to walk away, and nothing you could do would have stopped you from watching as he did. Liz sighed.

"He has you hooked, girl." It sounded like a scolding tone, but it didn't matter. It was something you were already fully aware of.

"I know Liz, I know. I don't mind it though, that's the really messed up thing about all of this. I'd better get going. I have to prepare for tonight." You hug her tightly. She really was the only thing that kept you feeling sane.

"Have fun, I'm sure it'll be quite, something. Considering your new found taste for darkness." She waves lovingly as you walk away. You whisper under your breath, you knew this was going to be one hell of a show.

Back in your room, as you're preparing, you begin to have a lot of doubts. Your dress still laid on the bed. "I'm about to have a dinner with serial killlers." Your hands become a bit shaky. "I mean, what could they really do to me? I'm already dead." You look at yourself in the mirror, splashing water on your face. When you lift your head up, you notice James behind you in the mirror. It used to scare you, but you have gotten used to him sneaking up on you.

"Is that the sound of doubt I am hearing?" He did not sound very happy with you after hearing your words earlier.

"No, James. I'm just very nervous." You walk out of the bathroom and look at your dress.

"Don't be dear. I'm right here with you. You have always done so well, you have no reason to be." He wraps his arms around your waist. "We are quite easy to get along with. Although you never killed in life, we are all similar." He flips you around so that you're facing him, gripping your cheek again like he always does. "We all have embraced the darkness." He was absolutely right.

"You are right James. Forgive me. May I.. Have a good luck kiss?" He laughed.

"Lady luck is already on your side." He gives you one long, torturously slow kiss to keep you hooked and wanting more. That was his motivation for you. "The rest comes later, I know you will do fine. Watching you gouge out someone's eyes or bash someone's head in will always get me riled up." You laughed at his dark humor. In reality, he did get off on seeing you hurt people. That just made you want to do it more. He says goodbye to you to allows you to finish getting dressed. All of your doubts just disappear when he comes around. None were left. Now, dressed up in the outfit he picked for you, your hair pinned back to show your face, and special a knife tucked inside of your garter belt, you exit the room, ready for anything he had in store for you.

You are his toy, you didn't need to worry. He always takes care of you.

Arriving at the door, you knock. Memories of the first time you came to this room still floated in the back of your mind. The few moments right before you first killed someone. It still sent a shiver up your spine. Not even the bad kind, it excited you. The first time is always the most.. intense, as with most things in general. The door opens and James allows you inside.

"Ah, the guest of honor!" You were not entirely sure why the room was filled with such romantic looking atmosphere. Candles and dim lighting, sweet, slow music playing. A woman approaches you. Her hair looked like it hadn't been brushed or washed in a long time, and she reeked of cigarettes. She walked around you, studying you like you were a prize winning pet.

"Damn James! Why didn't you tell me she was so damn cute?" She flips her hair back out of her face. "I'da kept her for myself!" She laughs as James introduces her to you.

"This is Aileen Wuornos. Killed seven men in Florida between 1989 and 1990. Quite impressive." James was not easily impressed, and he still seemed to approve of her.

"Yeah, till those bastards convicted me. You bet you're ass you're lucky girl." She points at you, flipping her hair from her face once more. "Dying hurts like hell, and James didn't let you suffer at all." She huffs and walks to a man with dark hair and sunglasses. He looked like a biker, leather jacket and all. She begins dancing with him.

"That's Richard Ramirez. Dubbed the 'Night Stalker'. He was an American serial killer, rapist, and burglar. All of those things! Amazing!" James had a cartoony way of acting when he got excited. He threw his arms open and smiled. It was strangley very cute, minus the fact that he was excited about a serial killer.

"I know I know man, you don't gotta tell me what I already know." Richard was still dancing with Aileen, not paying a lot of attention to anything else. At the table, you saw a man sitting quietly. He seemed awkward and odd, like he didn't know how to interact with people. You already knew who he was.

"Jeffrey Dahmer, as I'm sure you're already aware. Committed the rape, murder, and dismemberment of seventeen men and boys between 1978 and 1991. He's not the talkative type." You could already see that quite easily. He was very fidgety. Another man, a bit heavier set and very open about his dark desires was already at the table. He spent a lot of the time trying to get Jeffrey to talk and socialize, to no avail really. "John Wayne Gacy, Jr., the Killer Clown. Sexually assaulted and murdered at LEAST 33 teenage boys and young men between 1972 and 1978. Another one who still quite impresses me."

"And you impress me James! Look at this cute young thing you've brought to us!" John laughed and winked at you. It didn't seem to be in a sexual way, just his way of trying to talk to you. You smiled at him and he laughed again. The last man sat in the corner, seemingly like a statue. He barely moved.

"The Zodiac Killer, another name I'm sure you know well. Completely unidentified and never caught! He certainly best the rest of us in that, yes?" James says. The whole room bursts into laughter. You couldn't help but smile, it was a bit funny. Aileen spoke up again.

"Ah this girl is all good. She's got the same damn sense of humor we do!"

"She's quite amazing, as you will all see in a moment." James walks to the door and grabs someone who is wrapped in a bed sheet. Someone must have been holding them outside the door. They were squirming and their screams were muffled by a cloth. James sits him down in a chair and straps his arms down. Pulling the sheet over him, you can see his face clearly now. His eyes were sunken in, his cheeks were as well. He even had a needle still stuck in his arm. "Just a junkie, as you can see." James pulls the needle from his arm and hands it to you. "Now, give us some entertainment as we dine, yes?" He smiles at you as the rest of them take their seats. It was a bit nerve-wracking, they were killers in life and death, you were still quite new to this.

"Get on with it! Lemme see how good ya are!" Aileen grabs your butt making you jump. James stands up suddenly and slams his hands down on the table.

"HEY! She's mine, keep your hands OFF." Aileen grunts and lets go of you. James quickly gathered his composure. "Continue, dear." You lift up your dress to grab your knife, earning some cat calls from Aileen. James stares at it. "That's the first one I ever gave you, isn't it?" You nodded and he smirks.

"Alright." You take the knife and rub it against the man's neck, down his body slowly. He screams as you suddenly stab into his knee. "Do you have kids?" You're curious, he nods.

"I.. I have t-two.." He speaks between his cries of anguish. You slowly push the knife until his knee cap pops off. Blood shoots from it, covering you and your dress. "And you're here doing drugs?!"

"You don't need a reason to torture someone dear, but how cute that you want one." James was becoming aroused. The others probably couldn't tell, but you could hear it in his voice. You can't help but smile at him.

"Since you like doing drugs so much," You put the man's needle right near his eyeball, "Let's make it go straight to your brain." Slowly, pushing the needle into his eye, you earn some laughing and hooting from behind you. "That's how druggies like it, yeah?" He begins to lose consciousness. John stands up and takes charge of him, cutting into his head with some kind of tool. You could see his brain once he got done. John smiles at you, covered in blood as you were.

"What a bonding experience! You could be like my daughter, I'm so proud!" John practically squealed with joy after witnessing everything you'd just done. Hollers and yelps of joy fill the room, and you feel a sense of pride. But the only one you cared about pleasing was James.

After some food, talking, and exchanging of killing methods, it was time for everyone to leave. They all congratulated you on your job well done. You and James saw everyone off. After the last person left, James attacked you. He grabbed you and slammed your body into the wall almost painfully. He breathes onto your ear.

"Do you have any idea how hard it was to keep my hands off of you after witnessing that?! You're still covered in blood.. It's too much!" He devours your neck, licking and biting at you. His hand snakes it's way between your legs. He plays with you through your panties.

"James I can't wait, please!" He pulls himself out of his pants and you wrap your legs around his waist, he pushes your panties out of the way, pushing himself into you. His girth and length still manages to fill you completely. Like a perfect fit. He thrusts with power, forcing you to take all of him.

"Yes.. Yes.. Say my name little toy. Say it!" He screams at you, only arousing you more. Your wetness increasing and starting to drip down your legs. He wraps his hand around your neck lightly.

"James! James!" You screamed his name as loudly as you could. Every time he thrusted, you couldn't help but say his name again. Over and over. Your hands find their way to his back, scratching down as hard as you can. His grunting getting louder and more aggressive. His thrusts get faster so suddenly and he cums inside of you, the mixture of both of your juices dripping down both of your legs and onto the floor. He keeps you pressed against the wall and puts his forehead against yours. He pets your head lovingly to let you know how well you did.

"You did so well little one. You're nothing short of a revelation."

Later at the bar with Liz, she mentions the dinner to you. Also the way you were walking in an odd way now. "I don't think dinner is all you had, doll."

AO3

Just as a note - I wrote this a LONG time ago. When the show first aired I think. I never really intended it to be more than one part, but added Devil’s Night when it became pretty popular on Wattpad. I’m so sorry if anyone expected more, but I’m truly not sure where to take it and never intended it to go further than this. Thanks for understanding 🖤.

#james march x reader #james march #james patrick march #james patrick march x reader #ahs #american horror story #American horror story hotel #smut #fanfic #scenario

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2am-and-im-cursing-your-name · 1 year ago

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This is how I feel about it as well :/ Joe is largely keeping his head down, whereas Taylor is in the middle of a PR mess and is getting quite a lot of criticism (rightly IMO, even if some are going way OTT). But releasing this song now feels like a very transparent attempt to get everyone supporting her again, and it’s working- people are already being awful to Joe again, acting like he is emotionally abusive and cruel and whatever else, even though we only have one side of the story

I’m not denying that Taylor feels the way she does, just that if you asked Joe you would likely get a different story and then the truth is probably in the middle lol. But no, everyone has turned on him again at time where it’s convenient for Taylor for someone else to be getting bad press, and I’ll be honest, it’s really rubbing me the wrong way

and like forgive me for raining on the new song parade because it is a good song and i do enjoy it but it feels to me like an attempt at manipulating the narrative right now from “taylor swift dating guy who’s openly bigoted” to “taylor swift, sad victim of meanie ex boyfriend :(” and everyone’s falling for it. the devil works hard but taylors pr team truly works hardest

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oreoambitions · 4 years ago

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Parts 1-3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 5.5 // Part 6 // Part 7 // Part 8 // Part 9 // Part 10 // Ao3 Kara has been away for too long. This is what she thinks to herself as she hovers over the edge of National City's furthest flung suburb, her eyes on the horizon, her hands doing a rather unsuperherolike fidget of their own accord. She was only supposed to be gone for a couple of hours. A couple of days maybe. Long enough to cool down, to get her anger under control, to make sure that Lena would never have to see her like... that. Only a couple of days has become a couple of weeks and now Kara doesn't know how to come home. "Rao," she whispers. Immediately she feels foolish - as if Rao has answered her these past weeks - but in her solitude she's grown used to speaking in prayer, and so she finishes the thought anyway. "Where am I supposed to be right now? What am I supposed to be doing?" Probably her life is in shambles. Probably she's been fired from CatCo and there are a stack of unpaid bills cluttering up the mailbox of an apartment that probably doesn't belong to her anymore. That's going to be a mess to sort out and there's no getting around it. And then there are the personal relationships she's abruptly abandoned for a month and a half without explanation. Alex will be worried sick, and angry, and rightfully so. What will J'onn say? Nia? Clark? And then there's Lena. Kara's hand moves to the thin red thread would tightly around her wrist. Ever so gently, careful not to wear it thinner still, she brushes her fingers over it. She'll have to talk to Lena. Soon. Today. The thought makes her stomach twist and seize and roil with feelings she has hardly begun to name, let alone master, but Rao, if she stays away until she's mastered them all she's starting to think she might stay away for a lifetime. But at least the anger is under control. That's the most important thing, because the truth is there is no returning to National City, no returning to Lena, without facing Sam. It's doubly true now that Sam has taken up the cape to protect the city that Kara has come to think of as her own. She has to admit, however begrudgingly, that Sam has done a good job. The city below is peaceful in that loud, chaotic way that cities have about them in the late afternoon: a dog shouts out on 4th street; someone's car won't start on Tulare; highschool students pour out of a bus downtown full of the laughter and the posturing of youth. All is well. Certainly things are better than Kara has any right to expect them to be, and that's on Sam. Sam, who made headlines when she stepped in to make it clear that Supergirl's absence would not be taken advantage of. Sam, who said she'd never wear the cape because she was afraid of what it would mean for Ruby. Sam, who should have rightly been on Argo right now claiming her birthright and her heritage. Sam, who had an obligation to protect Lena and chose to bind her irrevocably to Kara in a marriage of obligation instead. Perhaps the anger is not so under control after all, but up here there's no one to see Kara's eyes flash or her fist clench, no one to hear her heartrate pick up or the sharp breath she forces out between her teeth. Up here it's okay. It's only down there she has to worry about control. But first before control, before the appearance of reconciliation, before Kara figures out how to get Sam on board with the plan she's hatched for finding Lena a way out of this mess, first before anything, Kara is going to have to talk to Alex. Hell hath no fury like an older sister abruptly abandoned and left to fret and worry for nothing, and the longer Kara puts this off the worse it's going to be. She takes a deep breath and wishes, not for the first time, that life came with a rewind.

There isn't really any such thing as taking the long way when you're a Kryptonian under Earth's yellow sun, but Kara makes an effort. She loops around the city twice, trying not to think about how uncomfortable it will be if she runs into Sam out here doing a similar patrol. She hovers over the L-Corp building long enough to determine that Lena is, in fact, not at work on a Saturday — probably Jess's doing, for which she’s grateful. Then she drifts gently to Alex's neighborhood, to her street, to the fire escape, to the back window always unlatched when Kara is on patrol just in case Supergirl should need to stop by unseen. Kara, of course, is not so much on patrol as officially missing, so she hesitates there on the fire escape before reaching out to tug gently gently gently on the window. It's almost a surprise when it slides open. Alex is home but the shower is running and Kara, feeling an odd sort of nervousness wash over her, slips through the window quietly. Maybe it would have been better to come through the front door, or to call ahead, or maybe it would be better to announce herself now, but now she's here trembling in Alex's kitchen and she's let herself in this way a hundred times and it's always been okay. Only this time it's different, and all Kara can think about is how angry Alex is going to be when she sees her and- The bathroom door flies open and Alex comes barreling out into the kitchen in a towel, dripping wet, the shower still running behind her. They stand there for a moment, Kara rubbing the edge of her cape between her fingers, Alex stock still as though she's seen a ghost. "Kara," she breaths. And then, "Shit, I'm sorry. Let me-" She reaches for the cupboard, then the fridge, then steps back. "Are you okay?" "Yeah," Kara says. She draws in a deep breath to spit out the explanation she's rehearsed a hundred times: I'm sorry but I was losing control and you have to understand that Sam and Lena were together the whole time and I was jealous, so jealous, but I was mostly so angry that Lena trusted her and then she put her into this awful position with the vows, and it put me in an awful position too, and I just couldn't stay and I- But Alex is nodding. "Let me just put a shirt on, okay? Don't- Just don't go anywhere. Help yourself to anything in the fridge. Two seconds." She starts down the hall and then turns back, her fingers up for emphasis. "Two seconds." It's more like forty seconds and the shower is still running and Kara is too uncomfortable to fetch anything from the fridge. All her rehearsed words have died in her throat and she's left standing there teasing a thread out of the edge of the cape and feeling like somehow this is all wrong. Kara’s imagined this encounter a thousand times but never like this, and to compound it all, something in this place has shifted. Maybe it's just the time Kara's been away but something here feels... different. Forty seconds isn't long enough to put a finger on it and Alex is back in the kitchen in a t-shirt and boxers and demanding a hug before Kara can quite track what's changed. There's an almost physical relief when Alex collides with her and for a few seconds all else is forgotten. "Are you mad at me?" she whispers into Alex's hair. "Yeah," Alex whispers back. "But it can wait." And then, as she pulls away, "Cocoa?" Alex doesn't wait for an answer. She's busy at the stove in an instant, milk out on the counter, hot chocolate mix out of a glass bottle measured by the heaping quarter cup, and Kara's offers of assistance are shooed away with a gesture so reminiscent of Eliza that she might have giggled if she hadn't been feeling slightly sick. She settles into a chair at the kitchen table instead. The cape has found its way between her fingers again; that loose thread is becoming more prominent by the minute. Then the shower shuts off and Kara glances up at Alex. "Is someone else here? I'm so sorry, am I interrupting? I can go if-" Alex silences her with a hand. "It's fine. You're not interrupting. It's just... it's my girlfriend." "Girlfriend?" The guilt sickens Kara a little further. She's been gone too long. She's missed too much. "Actually," Alex says, stirring the hot chocolate mix into the milk on the stove, "I was meaning to talk to you about it before everything happened with the wedding. It wasn't official but we'd been intimate - sorry, TMI, I know - and I thought it might be going some place. But then with everything happening it never felt like the right time, and now..." "Well who is she?" This explains, at least, what feels different about the apartment. And it seems obvious now that Kara knows what she's looking for: an extra pair of shoes by the front door, a jacket over the back of the couch that doesn't belong to Alex. But it's familiar. A jacket Kara's seen before, now that she's thinking about it. "Do I know her?" "Yeah. Actually, we should probably talk about-" Sam steps into the kitchen slowly, so softly that human ears might not have picked up her approach. She's wearing one of Alex's long sleeved tees pulled down too far over her hands, an anxious gesture Kara has seen mirrored in Lena a thousand times, and it sends an instant flash of something awful through her chest. "Hi Kara," Sam says softly. The rage hits Kara before her mind can catch up. Alex and Sam were intimate before the wedding. Alex and Sam were intimate before the wedding. Alex and Sam were- Which means- The kitchen table cracks under Kara's fingers but the words don't come. What is she supposed to say? Hi Alex, I really missed you, by the way your girlfriend is possibly cheating on you with my wife who, funny story, is only actually married to me because your girlfriend manipulated her into a binding religious marriage, potentially in order to free herself up so that she could be official with you. Any chance she's mentioned any of that? No? What comes out of her mouth is: "How dare you." Sam crosses her arms, those sleeves still pulled down around her fingers, takes another step into the kitchen. "I think I know what this looks like," she says. "And it's not. It's not what you think." Kara doesn't know what she thinks. Something about Sam's anxiety and the confusion on Alex's face is sounding an alarm, and it’s an alarm that sounds an awful lot like doubt, but the anger is louder. Anger, in Kara's recent experience, is always louder. And now it's building behind her eyes, and she knows it shows because Sam starts to move between her and Alex and somehow that makes it all worse because now it's the shame that's louder and Kara can hardly hear her own thoughts over all that noise. "I have to go," she chokes out. "I'm sorry. Alex, I-" I'll call, she wants to say. "I'm sorry," she says instead. She can smell the milk burning on the stove as she leaves, can hear Alex calling after her, demanding Sam go after her, demanding she come back. "Let her go," Sam murmurs. Kara passes out of earshot. Well, not really. But she's got enough distance that she can put it out of her head. Enough distance that she can, if she chooses, listen to nothing but the wind, and her shame, and the hammering of her own heart.

#packing can wait #THIS WAS SO HARD TO WRITE #interpersonal drama is NOT my forte #Fake Marriage AU

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sassyhobbits · 4 years ago

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Guess I lied “Holding everything in doesn’t help, you know.” someone from the Cadre telling this to Fen and him breaking apart and crying and dying I want him to suffer

had to so this one. always happy to write about my boy fen!!! luv him

heres day 4!!!

~~~

“Are you sure you want to make that move?”

“Yes. No. Fuck. What’s wrong with this move?”

“Why the hell would I tell you? I’m trying to win.”

Aelin laughed at the stormy look on Fenrys’ face as his dark gaze studied the chess board before them intently. She knew he was determined to beat her for once. She had been on a winning streak lately.

Aelin settled in her seat before the fire, studying the board before them. It was a beautiful set, something she had bought Rowan for Yulemas the year before. Her husband loved the game, but loathed buying anything for himself. She knew he was pleased to have such a nice set, though he tried to play it casual. They played together at least one night a week. Rowan was terribly good at the game. Three hundred years of practice of both chess and military strategy had made him a truly formidable opponent. Aelin had yet to beat him, though she had been getting better.

Fenrys, however, she beat over half the time. Learning from Rowan had given her an edge.

The male across from her finally picked up a knight and moved it, capturing one of Aelin’s pawns that had been protecting her king. She raised a brow at him. “Really, Fenrys?”

“What? You were too well defended.”

Aelin tutted and shook her head. “Short-sighted once again, my friend.” She reached out and moved her queen on it diagonal, placing it down firmly and smirking at Fenrys. “Check mate.”

A slew of terribly, dirty curses streamed from Fenrys’ mouth as he knocked over his king. He shook his head, studying the board. “I don’t know how you do it.”

“I’ve always been good at keeping my schemes to myself,” Aelin shrugged. “That’s all chess is, anyway. Schemes.”

He cursed once more. “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”

Fenrys sighed, accepting his defeat, reaching over to the bottle of wine they had been working through and topping off both of their glasses.

Aelin enjoyed having her friend so close. Aedion, Lysandra, Elide and Lorcan visited Orynth when they could, though they were busy running their own territories. Dorian and Chaol were in Adarlan, Manon rebuilding the Witch Kingdom. Even Fenrys had been traveling until recently. She had truly missed her companion.

They spoke and joked between one another for a few more moments before the door to the parlor opened. Aelin recognized her mate’s scent without needing to look back, even beneath all the sweat.

She sensed his presence as he stopped by where she sat, tilting her head up and smiling at him. His silver hair was in disarray from training with the guards that evening, but his green eyes were bright as he looked to her and then to the board.

Her husband studied it with a general’s intent for a few moments before a smile curled on his lips, looking towards Aelin with pride glimmering in his eyes. Good job, Fireheart, he seemed to say before pressing a lingering kiss to her temple.

Aelin’s nose crinkled at the smell of him. “You, husband mine, are in desperate need of a bath.”

“I agree,” Fenrys added. “My eyes are watering.”

Rowan looked to him dryly, though it held no venom at the younger male’s teasing.

Aelin began asking him about how the training had gone. They had a recent surge of new recruits and though many of them had potential, they were rough around the edges. Aelin knew that if anyone could whip them into shape, it would be Rowan.

Aelin fell into the lull of conversation, and it wasn’t until a while later that she noted a strange quietness coming from across from her. Fenrys wasn’t one to hold his tongue for an extended period of time. She glanced away from Rowan, looking towards the male across from her. Fenrys’ face was somber, staring hard into the fire that made his dark skin glow. His brows were pinched together, lips pressed tight, eyes glazed. Somewhere far away.

Rowan followed her gaze, ceasing his report to study his comrade.

It took a few moments for Fenrys to recognize the sudden silence, blinking away the haunted look in his eyes before glancing towards the king and queen before him, as if he could feel their gazes.

Something in Aelin’s chest clenched. She knew what the look meant, had worn it herself plenty of times. Her head tilted to the side before asking softly, “Where did you go, my friend?”

The smile that slashed Fenrys’ face came just a fraction of a moment too late, confirming that whatever he had been remembering had shaken him more than he could admit.

“I’m just tired. Losing to you takes more energy than you would think,” Fenrys sighed, trying to muster some bravado into his voice, though Aelin saw right through it. “I think I’ll head off to bed.”

Aelin watched her friend warily as he pushed to his feet, nodding a brief farewell before heading towards the door. She glanced up at her husband, seeing a familiar look of concern on his handsome face. It was evident that the White Wolf of Doranelle was not alright.

…

Once Fenrys deemed himself an appropriate distance from where the king and queen sat in the parlor, he allowed himself to let go. His shoulders curved in, a heavy sigh escaping his lips as he rested his back against a cool stone wall and hung his head in his hands.

Everything had been going well. He had spent the day assisting his queen with her duties while Rowan worked with the guards. He was fine through dinner, through their game of chess. Maybe it was because he had kept himself thoroughly distracted but… when he had let his mind quiet, even for a moment, he had felt himself drift away.

One moment he was laughing and teasing with Aelin, a smile lighting the queen’s face. The next, he heard echoes of her screams of agony, flashes of Cairn carving her up bit by bit while he had to sit aside and do nothing. Once he started, he couldn’t stop, spiraling down into the darkest part of his memories: Aelin sobbing in that iron coffin, the sight of Connall spilling his own blood, the feel of Maeve’s cold, pale hands on his body.

It happened from time to time. The memories getting the better of him. He always tried to play it off to the best of his abilities, making himself flash an easy smile to hide the vulnerability. He knew that the others suffered from similar afflictions, knew his queen was still haunted by nightmares. There were nights when he would wake to a knock on his door only to find Aelin standing on the other side, eyes hollow in a way Fenrys recognized. Sometimes she would talk about it, others she would just sit silently in his presence. The only person who truly had an inkling of what she had suffered for those two months. He knew Rowan still feared losing his mate, still saw the flash of panic in his eyes when he couldn’t find her in the sprawling palace, even though she was always safe and content. It was just… difficult to shake off those feelings.

And yet… Fenrys never wanted to burden his already burdened friends with his own troubles. He knew they would protest that description. Burden. They wouldn’t feel that way about it but… he did.

Fenrys was lost in his thoughts, all of them dark and swirling like a storm through his head. It distracted him enough that he hadn’t noticed anyone approaching until the purposeful scuff of a boot over stone caught his attention.

Fenrys raised his head, finding Rowan standing before him, green eyes studying him carefully. He stood straighter, forcing a wobbly smile to his lips.

“You miss me already?” Fenrys said, though his voice betrayed him, crackling towards the end.

Rowan’s expression turned sympathetic, a look Fenrys had never seen on his commander’s face until he had met Aelin. He stood a step closer.

“You doing alright there, pup?”

Fenrys shrugged, still trying to hold on to some semblance of nonchalance. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

Rowan didn’t press him right away, sliding his hands into the pockets of his dirty trousers. “Your quick departure made my wife quite worried about you.”

“Aelin has enough on her plate. She doesn’t need to worry about me too.”

“I’m worried about you as well, Fenrys.”

Fenrys blinked, sure he had heard the king consort incorrectly. Rowan had certainly warmed up since he fell in love with Aelin, but he was still rather stoic most of the time. He saved most of his compassion for the woman he loved. Rowan wasn’t cruel to Fenrys, he never had been. Though he was a massive bastard and a pain in his ass once upon a time but… he had never reached out like this.

It seemed that Rowan took his stunned silence as a cue to continue.

“You try to hide it, but I can see it in your eyes. The pain.” Rowan’s jaw clenched ever so slightly. “I did the same thing for years.”

“Yeah, but you took it out on the rest of us poor soul.”

Rowan gave a dry chuckle. “That I did. But you know what helped me heal?”

“Bedding your stunning wife?”

Rowan smacked him softly on the side of the head. Rightly deserved, Fenrys knew. He was being immature.

“I’m serious, boyo,” Rowan said lowly. “I didn’t start coming out of that darkness until I started opening up. Talking. Confiding in people who knew what I felt and what I had gone through.”

Fenrys rubbed at his eyes before rasping, “I don’t know where to start. I don’t want to burden you. Burden Aelin.”

“Aelin loves you,” Rowan said plainly. “She would never feel burdened if you reached out to her. You’re her friend. You’re my friend too, Fen. We’re always going to be here for you.”

Fenrys nodded, not trusting that his voice wouldn’t fail him. He was grateful for the friends, family, and support he had found in the recent years. This life that he had now… he wouldn’t give it up for anything.

He was silent for a few more moments, simply looking down at his boots and trying to banish the lump clogged in his throat. Rowan, the perceptive bastard, simply cocked his head to the side and met his gaze.

“Holding everything in doesn’t help, you know.”

It was with those words that Fenrys broke. The tears began falling freely down his cheeks, blurring his vision.

“There are moments where I forget where I am,” Fenrys confessed. “When I get so lost in the worst of the memories that I fear there’s no way out. I don’t know how to escape, how to be free of it. At times, I feel like I’m drowning.”

Fenrys didn’t bother to try and smother the tears, the shaking breaths he took. He knew Rowan was right. Holding everything in certainly didn’t help. He wasn’t sure if crying in the halls of Orynth would do much either but-

His train of thought was brought to an abrupt halt when he felt arms wrapped around him. Fenrys blinked once, sure he was hallucinating. But no. It was real. Rowan Whitethorn Galathynius was actually hugging him.

He was frozen for a moment, unsure of how to respond. Some older part of him hissed that it was a trick, that the moment he let his guard down Rowan would put him in a headlock as part of a training exercise. But, Fenrys also knew that the cold and calculating commander of his past was no more.

Slowly, Fenrys reached up and returned the embrace.

For a few moments, neither of them said anything, until Fenrys whispered, “Thank you, brother.”

Another few heartbeats passed before Fenrys felt another pair of arms wrap around his torso from behind, the scent of jasmine and ashes tickling his nose. Aelin.

“You were snooping that entire time, weren’t you?” Fenrys asked with a tiny laugh.

“Of course I was,” the queen mumbled against his back. “How else am I supposed to stay three steps ahead of everyone if I don’t snoop?”

Fenrys chuckled lightly, already feeling lighter than he had before. He was a lucky bastard to have such friendship and support in his life. And, although he was still healing, he knew they were as well.

They would find the path to the light. Together.

#idek what to tag this one #like its kinda #rowaelin #but mostly #fenrys moonbeam #my writing #tog

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starshipsofstarlord · 4 years ago

Text

World Revelations

@etherealsxnder

Warnings; spoilers for season 13, mentions of death, angst, lack of hope, some Alex Calvert x reader, and tiny bit of jack x reader, swearing, brief illusions to sex, angry brothers, mentions of a sex scene, insecurities, online hate, protective winchester brothers, apocalypse world, major character death, lucifer

(Y/A/N) – Your Acting Name.

A/N; it’s a little bit different from the request, so sorry about that, but I hope that any one that reads this enjoys. Also sorry about the wait, I had bad writers block, but when I started writing this it sorta figured itself out and I may have got carried away. Feel free to tell me what you think ☺️

“Look, I am not going to some other world to help stop Michael. But I can help you in another way, one where none of us get harmed.” Gabriel shrugged, reducing Sam’s expression to confusion. The archangel had felt like their last hope at retrieving their mother, into delving into the apocalypse world, and here he was, turning him down.

He had tried his very best to make the celestial being better, and here he was, talking again, able to use his grace rather than have it removed and syringed into a demon’s veins. However, he still refused, and the hunter had no other plan in forcing Gabriel into helping. This was the last shot, and it had been blown.

But however could he still help? This was the primary problem that had to be solved, there was no other route they could take to bring their family back together. And that was all that mattered in this life, saving people, remaining together.

“What are you talking ab-“ Before Sam could complete his question, Gabriel set him with a poised glare, and snapped his magical fingers, a spark of electric blue grace sparking from the action. That was all Sam saw before he felt himself transported, and once he opened his eyes, he remained in the bunker, however there were cameras around him, and an entire filming crew.

Gabriel had sent him to the other life, another world in which he presumed that he was called Jared. “What the hell Sammy?” Dean barked from beside him, twisting and turning his sights around, upon realising that although this looked like their home, it was an alternate version of it. A set, made of fake walls and truthless literature that was not at all necessary in this peaceful, monster-less realm. “Son of a bitch!”

“Cut!” One of the cameramen called out, shaking his head exasperatedly at the line said wrong. Jensen had been doing so well, and Jensen seemed to have slipped far too into character, to the point where he had forgotten his lines. “Do you need to see the script again, or would you rather take a short break?”

“I’ll go for the break.” Dean confirmed, grabbing Sam’s forearm and hastily dragging him from the onlookers, and towards which he assumed was his, well, Jensen’s trailer. It looked pretty much the same as last time. “Gabriel?” He asked, rightly assuming that the blame of this mishap ordeal was down to the glowing figure.

“He refused to help us open a rift.” Sam licked his lips, his eyes jutting around the luxurious space. “And then he snapped his fingers, and we were here.” Here, another earth. However this was not their home, it was a disfigured writing of it, if anything, it was worse than the books Chuck wrote. There were more fans, and more complications that came along with being here in place of the actors.

“We don’t have time for his tricks.” Sighed Dean, raking his hair with his rough hand. “Parading around as a painted whore is not on my agenda, all I care about is getting mum back, we have to get home quick.”

“Dean, I don’t think that this is a trick…” Sam spoke to his elder brother, in thought of Gabriel’s words. “He said he could help us in another way. I don’t think he meant taking us away from the problem, there must be something else.” No matter how much he rolled the idea around his head, he could come to no conclusion.

“What?” There was already plenty on the man’s mind, he didn’t need another incident coming their way. Dean was to begin speaking again, until a knock rapped against the door to his double’s trailer, intruding his mindset. Him and Sam shared a glance and frown until Dean called whomever was on the other side in, and to their dismay, he looked exactly like Castiel.

Misha Collins. Last time they had visited this place, he had died, but the return of the real selves must have somewhat fixed the timeline, he looked well, even if he still was dressed as their angelic friend. “Hey, I was seeing if you are ready for the scene tomorrow.”

“Scene? Which scene?” ‘Jared’ asked the colleague of his false identity, unaware of the context in which Misha spoke in. Dean only huffed and rolled his eyes, until Misha spoke, and he froze, both the brothers understanding Gabriel’s meaning for sending them to this world.

“(Y/N)’s death scene. Apparently it’s gonna be quite emotional, and it’ll be strange after, not having the kid on set anymore.” It was a revelation, a nightmare that foreshadowed the truth in their own dimension.

“Thanks uh- Misha.” ‘Jensen’ rubbed his hand over his face, shocked by the oncoming doom. They had already lost far too many members in their makeshift hunter family, but this was different. This was their sister, whom they had protected and vouched to continue doing since the day she was born. And now the universe had this grand plan of cutting her young life short, and sending her to either heaven or hell, where so many people they loved already were.

“Do you know where um, (Y/A/N) is right now?” Sam asked, desperate to somehow convince her to remain on the show. It was the only way in which he could save his younger sibling, and he would, by the gods, do anything that he possibly could. Him and Dean had already had meetings with death himself, he couldn’t allow the new version to come and take you.

Billy would not compromise, she was intent on having a Winchester under her cloak, forever taken from life, never to return to the living. And they couldn’t take a chance, any chance on not getting (Y/N) back, she was a legacy as were they, but she was supposed to live on for longer. Their names would otherwise be nothing more than memories in the world of hunters, until they faded into distant and dead members of the community.

“In her trailer, I think. She’s rehearsing with Alexander I think.” The name that he mentioned was unfamiliar to the unfitting pair, but they spared no thought to it. Instead they sent him a quick smile before leaving the confines that they felt trapped in, and began their search for the actress of their sister.

“We have to change her mind Sammy. If she stays on the show, then our (Y/N) lives. It is the simplest solution.” Dean spoke as they walked through the lines of trailers, unable to find the name that they were searching for on any door. “Where the hell is her damn trailer?”

Sam squinted, until a name he had heard was seen on one of the doors. Alexander, whoever that was. Before he could even put any thought into his actions, he subconsciously knocked on the door, waiting a moment for an answer. And when the door opened, they were met with who looked like Jack, his hair a mess, and his shirt hanging over his shoulder, clearly put on in panic.

“What’s up guys, need something?” He scratched the back of his neck, impatient with the situation, considering the one that he had been interrupted from. A part of him feared that this was one of Jared’s infamous pranks, he had mostly been on the end of shifted lines, but worse could have been heading his way for all he knew.

Dean frowned at the sight of young man, it hardly felt right seeing the innocent boy that they knew with sex hair and slight bruises upon his neck. He cleared his throat, keeping up his expression, as he spoke to the boy. He had softened up to Jack, he was their kid in some ways, but this was no Nephilim, if anything it was worse, it was a man who impersonated they kid.

“Heard that uh, (Y/A/N) was running lines with you. Y’know where she is?” Alex’s eyes shifted slightly inside of his personal space, before everything was given away by a familiar giggle. It sounded the exact same as the one that often left (Y/N)’s mouth. Dean knew it, he would never be capable of mistaking it.

The noise had renegaded in his ears since she had been born, in the impala as John drove, through the halls of the bunker as her and Sam made jokes about his cholesterol. At the worst of times, before he knew that they existed, he liked to think that it was the voice of angel, she always guided him on the right path, and if she were to disappear from his life, he would sorely lose the track that he was hellbent on walking down.

And he could see her face now, as she tugged the sheet over her body. A frown sculpted her expression, as she looked exasperatedly between Alex whom had tried to lure the tall pair from the confines of his trailer, and the intruders who had barged carelessly in. It wouldn’t have mattered so much if her and Alexander had actually been running lines, however the situation explained more than enough of the fact that they indeed were not.

“Jared, Jensen, can you like, I don’t know, not cockblock me, for once in your elderly lives?” It felt peculiar, for both Sam and Dean. They knew that this was not their sister, but her calling them by other names was so foreign. Their skins crawled at the labelling, and it only reminded them farther of their cause, the reason that they were sent by an angelic being to be here in this very moment.

“I am also getting bored of it.” Alexander tilted his head, in agreement with (Y/A/N), who only grinned at his compliance to suit her opinions, and Dean could only roll his eyes, just like he did with Jack the majority of the time. “But it’s cool, but can we hurry this along, I mean not to be rude, but aren’t you guys supposed to be filming a scene in like five minutes?”

Sam cleared his throat, admittedly he did like Jack. The kid was sweet, however this was not him, it rather was a man who pretended to be a Nephilim for payment, and was bedding the doppelganger of his sister. If he were to see his sister and the devil’s child in such a compromising predicament, most people would assume he’d be the calm sibling, but they’d be wrong. He would go mad, and think of a way to keep the pair separate.

But luckily for them, there had never been such adult situations insinuated between their dear (Y/N) and Jack, or at least not that they were aware of. This riled Dean, and so he couldn’t help but feel like exploding. It angered him that any man had laid their bare and lustrous hands upon his youngest sibling. No one was to have that pleasure, she was supposed to remain innocent, even if she were legal.

“Seriously?! Jack of all people?!” He bellowed at (Y/A/N), shaking his head at their obvious exchange. If (Y/A/N) had any clothes on underneath the white sheet that hugged her body as she lay on the sofa, her instincts would have driven her over to Jensen and her palm would have met the side of his stubbly face.

“First of all, you need to start remembering Alex’s name, and that goes for Jared too. You can’t just keep calling him Jack, even after I’m done here and move onto my next project.” Her words, although not having the intent to, had the effect of triggering Sam’s goal, in-deliberately reminding him of their foremost goal. It was not to get angry at the characters that played them and their loved ones, it was to save someone that was incredibly important to their world.

“And second,” the woman in covering continued, “this isn’t exactly going to get me to stay on the goddamn show, if you barge in here, interrupting our privacy. If you don’t like what me and Alex are doing off screen, you sure aren’t going to like what is gonna go down between (Y/N) and Jack. Sometimes I do swear that you’re just like Sam and Dean.”

The jab she made at them struck nerves, but they knew that this was not the real her. It may have looked like (Y/N), but this was only a woman who played the part of her. “We’ve been trying to make you stay on the show?” Sam asked, his voice soft. He didn’t want to be harsh, she was already uncomfortable enough.

It was her unknowing that they were actually Sam and Dean that could be an element that they could use, a tool of convincing. “Yes, for weeks now.” (Y/A/N) sighed, pinching the point that was between her eyebrows. “And I’m getting tired of it, and overall, this character. I’ve played her for years on end, I think that her story should have a finishing point, a finale. I’m ready for bigger and brighter things, something that is not pretending to be a strong woman on set, and as soon as I walk away from the cameras, I go back to being weak.”

“I think you’re going to have to explain a little more if I’m going to get any of that.” Dean prompted, both him and Sam had turned away, giving the actress in the sheets the privacy to change. The shuffling of fabrics could be heard, they had been in worse situations with their sister, small motel rooms, of which they could usually only afford one in the past, helped nobody. And none of them received the personal space that should have been an outright human right.

“Of course neither of you understand.” Alex sighed, “she wants a smaller workspace, one where there aren’t so many eyes on her. The whole ordeal got out of hand, and now there are people online saying terrible things about her and I. Neither of you have made such a mistake, or had something so sacred and personal leaked on the internet. The things people say really digs in deep, she at least wants a break, can’t you understand that?”

“Wait, what got leaked?” Sam’s curiosity often informed him of things that he did not wish to be aware of, and this was one of their instances. Alex huffed and rolled his eyes, walking over to where (Y/A/N) was now fully clothed, and took a seat on the sofa beside her, their eyes meeting and mirroring smiles shining at one another.

The sight admittedly made Sam smile, but it made Dean feel internally sick. The sight of what looked like their sister and Jack fuelled a fire inside of him, he wanted his eyes to burn and the memory to be forever removed from his sights.

“Look, you play a pretty badass character, although I’d say Dean has a bit more kick to him.” The man himself chuckled, but no one joined in, so he continued through a forced smile, coming to sit down next to Alex, his ignorance to what happened there merely minutes ago encouraging his brother to cringe.

“But that’s not my only point, you’re here, whilst those sad souls that sit behind their computers all day waste their time typing crap. The life you have, the family that you have here, is worth more than the opinions of a few, invisible idiots, who are only jealous of everything that you have earned for yourself. Don’t breathe their toxicity win, because if you do, the bad guys win, and then you will only fade out of the spotlight and they’ll forget all about you, and all of the things they ever posted about you.”

Alex had been understanding through all of (Y/N)’s decision to leave the cast, although to begin with he had tried to convince her to stay. And it seemed out of all of them, it was Jensen that made her reconsider her options, he could see it behind her eyes, the unravelling of interest, the flickering of hope.

The only thing that the younger actor could not tell were that these were not Jensen’s words, they fell from the lips of Dean Winchester himself. A character that he knew of, and was an important symbol on the show that he was cast on. But it did not matter if he was not aware of that snippet, because it changed nothing, other than possibly (Y/A/N)’s mindful decision.

“You know what, you’re right Ackles. It’s not often that I say that, but the thought of leaving everyone here, settling for something that I have no connection to or history with, it is undermining. And I’m going to talk to Kripke, he’ll be over the moon with the consideration, however if he chooses that (Y/N) is to die as was planned due to my indecisiveness, then that shall be the battle that I am to bargain with.” They had won (Y/A/N) over, it was victory.

It was also the closest that they could do by themselves to save (Y/N). If this didn’t work, they would be nothing more than John’s broken tools, defined by all those that they were always mourning. And it would only make their sister another name on that sour list, even if her death would pain them substantially more than others.

“I guess we’ll go then.” Sam awkwardly spoke, encouraging Dean to stand from the christened furniture and join him in leaving the sexually active couple alone. He sent the woman a nod, and Alex a raised eyebrow. He would have Jack’s head if he ever thought he had the guts or wings to be so intimate with their sister, he’d make him feel something, and it would be painful. Torturous even.

They shut the door behind them as they departed from the actors, a smirk on Dean’s face. He felt victorious, he was the same hero that would read (Y/N) stories when it was dark and a storm was thundering outside, as she hid under the duvet of some dingy motel bed, a torch protecting her from the enveloping bleakness, but also her brothers. “I’d call this a win.”

“They said about a video…” Sam had Jared’s phone in his hand, he scrolled through the feed with a wrinkled nose and scorned eyes. After he received an answer to what it was concluding, he put the device away, he could never look at Jack and (Y/N) around each other the same again. It was burdened by the facts of this world, contradicting the innocence that both the kids in their world showed. “It was a leaked sex scene of the show, Dean.”

“Heck no!” Growled the elder brother, shaking his head. The instant images that flashed through his mind of the Nephilim atop of his little sister made his teeth grit in anger, and a pit of queasiness fold in the cave of his stomach. He already wasn’t too sure on Lucifer’s spawn, this only enhanced that formed opinion, and he wished to shoot the child more than ever in this instant, even if the real him was not around.

“They’re not actually the people we know Dean.” Sam comforted him, easing his anger, but only slightly. “Nothing like that has happened between them, he is in another world, whilst (Y/N) is in the bunker, reading lore and trying to find a way to bring mum and Jack back to us.”

“Yet Sammy, nothing has happened yet.” He allowed himself to shut his eyes for a second, and the next thing that he knew, he was returned home. His speech must have worked on the employee of the show Supernatural, otherwise, Gabriel surely would not have returned them to their home world.

“He’s gone, for chuck sake. How are we supposed to bring Jack and Mary back if we don’t have archangel grace?!” The stressed voice of their younger sibling often triggered a debate from the brothers, but seeing and hearing her, it was a miracle. They couldn’t waste time and argue, instead Sam lurched forward, grabbing the girl and bringing her into the embrace of his giant like arms.

“We’ll figure it out (Y/N/N), we always do.” He spoke softly, earning a confused yet pleased smile. The hug had come out of nowhere, but it calmed her nerves, the rushing of the blood that hurtled around the veins of her body slowed, and it gave her a moment of peace, a blank mind before she began researching again.

“I have a question.” Dean stated with his gruff tone, squinting at his female sibling. He suppressed a smile, she was oblivious to the blockade that had rested above her head like a raincloud, but he knew that she was here for good. And that she was not leaving to any sort of afterlife any time soon. “Do you have the hots for Jack?”

(Y/N)’s eyes went wide, however she forced a scoff to hide the shock and cover up anything that her brothers could pick up on. She released herself from Sam’s hold, taking a couple of simple steps backwards, so that she could have a clear view of the expressions that both of them wore. “Are you seriously asking me that at a time like this?” Her sentence was finished with a sigh and a roll of her eyes.

But her brothers knew their sister well enough, and that she indeed did not want to admit something to them. (Y/N) was much easier to read than (Y/A/N) was, they had known this growing woman since the day that she was born, the same day in which John rescued the shrieking baby from a mother that was fed and eaten by wolves. She would have been next, however the hunter saved her, as was in his job description, but he couldn’t bare to let her stream through the system.

He felt an attachment to her, and looking at her was practically the same as the notion of peering at one of his boys. She was to be a Winchester, he hadn’t decided it, but God himself did. The universe worked in mysterious ways, it was as though it was all written out for the family, but this instant, none of them minded. It gave the boys another reason to fight, another person to love, and eventually another family member to lose.

But it had been evaded this time, Gabriel had although not helped them with reaching their mother and the son of Kelly Kline, however, he had somewhat saved (Y/N) himself. Without his trickster interference, they’d have never known of her doomed fate, or have been able to fix it.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Dean was smug with being right, as he always was. Overall though, he was more pleased to know that they had stopped the crumbling of the bottom of the family tree, they had protected their sister, literally to the ends of the world.

“Pick up a damn book and help me, I’m not doing all of this research by myself.” Another sign that he was indeed correct, changing the subject, how original. But neither of the brothers, more so Dean than Sam, even wanted to try and switch the mindset that (Y/N) had about the boy. They were allowed to have feelings, romantic and so on, and their sister appeared happy with the tether that was from her heart to Jack’s.

The vampires were almost mutated. This apocalypse world had really taken a toll on all life. Michael of this plain had destroyed everything that was known to be true, even living itself. The habitat of these morsal creatures was dark, and disgusting. Humans had already tried to pass through the deadly lair to reach the other side, to get to the rebellion camp, however, no one had survived to the opposite end of things.

(Y/N) felt hopeless, even as she walked through the home of the starving monsters. She had never been a fan of vampires, no hunter was, but this was cruel to every extent. They didn’t even appear as human anymore, their fates had been cursed by this ruined land. Without the world that was in her own, they would be worse off, everything in this dimension was.

Everyone of their company was on edge, Dean ensured that he kept a sturdy eye forward, looking for any light. He knew (Y/N) would have to be okay, it was paved for her to be so in the other universe, she’d be fine. Of course, he still worried, that was what he did in retrospect, all day, every day, he worried that it was to be someone’s last.

And he was right, as the monsters crept from the dark, tasting the scent of rushing blood in the air. They had lured them from their slumber, and they began to attack, dragging one of the travellers towards their death, where they would be fed on until he was completely drained. (Y/N) swung her machete, beheading one of the animals without a second glance, but perhaps she should have spared another look on the side, as she was a target.

She was the prey to what she was raised to hunt, it wrapped its clawed hand around her leg like a coil, dragging her to the ground, and feasting its teeth into her supple flesh. This was it, there was no route away from her fate, and her body was already weak from blood loss, and so she gave up, and refused to fight. Her body was dragged into the abyss of the nest, and its members followed after her.

Sam noticed their apparent glee, they had yet again prized food from them. He looked around to see whom it may be, and he was aghast with the sight. (Y/N) had her eyes shut as her limp form was being taken by vampires, and he froze, traumatised by the sight. And his surprised and hurt stature gave another of the beasts the perfect opportunity to rip into the rubber of his neck, and relish in the unstoppable river of blood that poured out from the fatal wound.

“No!” Dean cried out, noticing that his sister too had disappeared. Before he could follow after the menaces and get vengeance, and possibly save his family from being the meal of savages, Castiel grasped his arm, pain rendering in the blueness of his vessel’s eyes.

“They’re gone Dean.” His words rang through the hunter’s head. This was his worst nightmare. Gabriel’s warning had not helped at all, because (Y/N) was dead, and so was Sam. He forced himself to trudge on, pained like no other time before. Sam had died before, but he had always found a way to retrieve him back into life, and even through his tragic absence, he always had (Y/N). Now, the only other Winchester was his mother, who also needed to be saved from this damned world.

“Think about it Sammy, Jack is going to be so pleased to see you alive, but your little sis, well, I’m sure that is going to be one hell of a reunion between them.” Lucifer smirked, he was in Nick’s body again, using it as a vessel. “And he’ll think of me as a saviour, a knight that saved his princess from a terrible fate.”

The fallen archangel always had ulterior motives, and Sam realised that he had no choice in whether he’d rather remain dead, or be used as a bargaining chip by the devil himself. His interest in Jack was not exactly pure, it was clear to the man that he sought the backup, the power of his biological son. His intent was to creep into the boy��s mind, and decipher for the kid the difference between wrong and right.

“That’s what you want, to lie to him about who you are?” He couldn’t exactly say he was surprised, even more so that the audience of vampires were seething to break free from Lucifer’s force. He wasn’t even supposed to be here, he should have been in the bunker, his grace feeding away at Rowena’s spell, and keeping the gate open for their return.

“I’ll just bend the truth to fit the story, and I care about my son. As you care about your dear sister, and it would be a shame if she were not to wake, and then the news will have to be delivered to my boy, and I’m sure that would just break his half and half heart.” The celestial being, the epidemy of evil tutted at the thought, only to send Sam a mischievous smirk afterwards. “You don’t want him to be like me, but without her, he’ll be in so much pain that he won’t think about his actions. If he has (Y/N/N), then that choice will be entirely up to him, and what he believes in, yada yada yada.”

The sight of his sister covered in her own blood, motionless on the ground, bite marks on her shoulders and elsewhere drew out a desperation in Sam. He couldn’t not allow the villain to bring her back to life, and it seemed that no matter what he disputed, that Lucifer would do it anyway, to get himself in Jack’s good books. And so he hung his head low, awaiting the personal enemy of his to resurrect the most important woman in his life.

On first instinct, (Y/N) gasped in air. There was a lack of it rolling around the vitals of her lungs, but her breath was taken away once more, when she saw the looming of a horrifying figure, a first son of god. He was supposed to be, even if forced to do so by the traditions of magic, be at the bunker, revelling them with a way back. Rowena had been left there also, to keep the spell brewing, and a fearful eye on the hellish shadow.

Assumingly, he had escaped his sentence, and for some reason, brought her to life. It was no mistake as to what the vampires had done to her, she could smell the spilling of her own blood over her thrifted and worn clothes, and it was gruesome. Although it was not the hunter’s first time in being a sponge to her injuries, but nevertheless, she fought to stand beside Sam, who steadied her shaken feet, and balanced out the rest of her body by looping his supportive arm around her waist.

“Come on.” Lucifer rolled the human eyes that he wore like spectacles into the lives of the Winchesters, unimpressed by the slowness of the world’s large cockroaches. “We have places to be and sons to meet.” At his verbalised of clarity for his ungodly presence, (Y/N)’s body became rigid. His intent was to get to Jack, she couldn’t allow him to provoke a fire inside the boy.

He was sweet and innocent, even harmless, despite the accident that had happened when he accompanied her and her brothers on a hunt. If Lucifer reached him, he would only try and navigate the darkness inside of him to be what it was, rather than try and make him change it into something brighter, something that was good, like Kelly would have wanted.

“No.” (Y/N) refused, earning a frown from Sam and a elongated groan from Lucifer. She had died, it didn’t matter if she were to return to that fate, not if she stood by what she truly believed in. Nothing much would change, other than the vampires getting another meal from the same body, Dean already thought that she was extinguished from life, and the news would be passed on before any of them were to reach him.

“Oh, for crying out loud!” The devil shook his wolfish head, Winchesters were always so stubborn. “I’d allow it if Sam were to stand against the gift of life, I’ve seen what is inside of his head after all, but you! You’re the priority here, you are Jack’s weakness.” This gesture of good faith seemed to be more than it was worth, but if she didn’t comply willingly, then he would force her to follow him along, and live.

“Where’d you hear that from? He doesn’t have a weakness, he just has a good heart. I’m just another person that he lives with, a soldier that is going to fight anyone that dares to try and hurt him. And I won’t mind if I have to give my life to try and kill you.” She spat at the disgrace of heaven, hardly moved by his goal. As a Winchester, the stubbornness ran through her veins, even if the bloodline itself did not.

“I hear things, and I did in that bunker. Like how Dean was speaking about you and Jackie boy, and how it all made sense. The shared looks, the flushed faces, all that gross stuff. He didn’t seem too happy with the circumstances, but he was content with the fact that you were alive, like you are again, because of me.”

Lucifer was the last person that (Y/N) would thank for her existence, but she realised that there was no way out of his trap, she was the bait for Jack, that would reel the boy into the wings of his dreaded father.

He could sometimes be so naive, that she feared that Jack would fall for the extension of kindness, one that hardly suited Lucifer. But that was up to him, and in this apocalyptic version of her world, anything could happen.

“She’s dead.” Dean’s voice was gravelly, it had been dragged through hope, and now the realisation that his baby brother and sister were lost to life. The eyes belonging to Jack widened, and tears began to form.

He could quite comprehend how he felt. There was a tearing in his chest, he felt as though he was being split apart, his breathing rapidly increased, and his eyes flared like the bursts of the sun.

Until whispers hit his ears, and he looked up, only to see the girl alive and well. He was not the only one relieved in the circumstances, Dean and Mary were too, but they feared the fact that Lucifer had joined them, and was being trailed by the bloodied siblings; the ones that he had saved for his selfish purposes.

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the-empress-of-snark · 4 years ago

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I don't know who needs to hear this, and maybe it's just me, but the idea that someone feels like they have any business critiquing or should I say reviewing free- FREE- fucking content like they're some kind of motherfucking Roger Ebert of fanfiction seriously rubs me the wrong way.

Just no.

I also want to make it clear that I give zero fucks if you think I'm overreacting.

People write fic for a multitude of reasons but mostly for love. Love of the source material, or the characters, or whatever. To share that love with like minded people and be part of a community.

You don't like the pacing or characterization? Click the back button and move on with your life. Nobody, with the possible exception of a teeny, tiny handful of your friends, gives an actual rat's ass that you didn't care for the way the dialogue played out in a certain scene, or the speed at which the romance developed.

Also, if you're going into a story where you describe your expectation of the primary romantic pairing as 'toxic', you shouldn't read that story. Better yet, just run away. Far, far away. Because clearly, your entire "review" is coming from a place of erroneous assumptions and fixed moral attitudes about certain pairings being "unhealthy" or "abusive".

It's bullshit, and renders you fundamentally incapable of grasping why an audience engages with that story, those characters, and that particular pairing. You don't like that pairing, you obviously hated the story.

Thanks for sharing how much you absolutely fucking hated one of the most well regarded fics in the fandom with...*checks notes* other members of that fandom. In the fandom ship tag.

Like, did we fucking ask?

Really, though, I'm not just talking about one specific story, or a specific fandom, but the broader context of engaging with fanworks in general with a level of expectation usually reserved for entertainment that you would rightly be paying for.

And rating fics on some arbitrary scale?

Seriously, just stop.

You can take your need to bloviate about how a particular fanwork was maybe a semi enjoyable one time read and pound sand, especially if you aren't actually engaging with these fanworks by way of favoriting, bookmarking or leaving positive comments and kudos.

The only possible reasons to ever, ever level unsolicited criticism of a fic is if you curate your experiences by checking tags and an author completely fails to tag content that is potentially triggering, (tags are a whole ass separate discussion that I won't get into just now) or if the story contains plagiarized material, is racist, antisemitic, homophobic or transphobic - you get the idea.

Otherwise, shut it. Don't like, don't read is a thing.

When we share our fanworks with an audience we're putting ourselves out there and making ourselves vulnerable, but we do it out of love. Many of us exist in demanding or stressful jobs or situations and creating or enjoying fanworks provides us a way to destress, cope, or just simply participate in a community.

One last thing. We're making this shit for free, Karen.

You want to grade fics on how well they measure up in different categories? Do you even understand how entitled that is? Would you seriously leave a two or two three star review on a fanwork, with the understanding that the person who created it may be a fledgling artist or writer who, again, isn't getting paid? A writer who may quit writing altogether because someone told them their characterizations aren't good or their pacing is uneven?

Can you just...not?

There are ways of becoming a resource for fic recommendations but this ain't it.

Here endeth the rant.

#tomione #tomione fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #fanworks #don't do this #any incoherence is from fatigue

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alpacaparkaseok · 4 years ago

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7 Secrets Drabbles

The one where Beth finds the diss track

Yes, I know. This has been pending on my m.list for a while now. However, I wanted to wish @dreamcatcherjiah (as well as all my followers) a very merry Christmas and happy holidays! I know some of you really wanted to see/requested what went down with the diss track (a kind of inside joke between Joon and Beth) so here we are. Thank you to everyone who has supported me and given my works a fighting chance lol.

7 Secrets is my baby and I just have such a soft spot for Beth and Joon. 🥺🥺 If you haven’t read it yet...just do it. Read it. It’s a good time, I promise.

Merry Christmas!! Enjoy! ⇊

In my defense, I wasn’t planning on snooping around Joon’s workspace. It just kind of happened.

We were supposed to meet up at the company building to head out to dinner with everyone. Today is a big day: it marks six months since the day we met.

Six months since I first stepped into that little room just a couple of floors above where I now sit. My heart nearly beating out of my chest and Namjoon standing on the other side of the room.

My entire future, right in front of me.

The boys have been busy the past couple of months, I’ve hardly gotten to see any of them due to their new album coming out soon. Promotions are brutal; I’ve begun to see that. Every so often Namjoon will show up at my office completely out of the blue, give me a short greeting, and promptly take a nap on my couch. He says it’s one of the only places he can actually close his eyes without worrying about someone coming to the door and seeing how the album is coming along.

Even though I wish we had more time to just be together, I think those spare minutes with Namjoon snoring up a storm while I work quietly at my desk are my favorite minutes of the week.

Namjoon’s studio is empty when I arrive, oddly enough. I’m sure he’ll be up in a few minutes; chances are he’s in a meeting with the project manager or in somebody else’s studio.

“What do we have here?” I wonder aloud as I plop down on his swivel chair, scooting forward to look at the post-it notes scattered all around his desk. Most of them make little to no sense to me, as they all consist of producer slang and half-formed thoughts.

There’s one though that really catches my attention. “Oooh what song is this?” Scrawled down on a bright yellow sticky note, Namjoon has written out, ‘decide whether or not to include first breath in the album’.

See, I would’ve been more than happy to just wonder what song he was talking about and maybe ask him about it later, but is it really my fault if he kept his laptop open and signed in?

It’s all too easy to click on his files and scroll through them until I see what song he’s talking about.

If I really think hard about it, maybe this is my way of helping him with work. If I like the song, then I’ll just tell him to add it to the album. There! One sticky note down, five thousand to go!

I can’t find any headphones, so I just make sure the volume is low before double clicking on the file.

Hoseok’s voice comes first, quickly followed by Yoongi’s. One after another the rap line begins to tell a story.

It doesn’t take long for me to realize that this is a true story.

By the time the chorus rolls around, I’m sitting on the edge of my seat, clinging to the arm rest as though it’s the only thing keeping me in reality. Suddenly the question of whether or not he should include this in the album makes sense; it’s clear that this is a very personal song. It’s about us.

About me, I realize as Namjoon’s voice flows out. There’s a bit of disdain in his voice as he raps I had to hold my breath for seven years just to make everyone happy and that’s when I put two and two together.

This is the diss track. The diss track that’s not really a diss track but in a way is a diss track because we were kept apart for so long.

Yoongi is drawling out the final few notes when I hear someone clear their throat behind me.

“Having fun?”

I slam my knee up into the underside of Namjoon’s desk, crying out as I rub it. Namjoon comes over to my side, crouching beside me and cutting the music before putting his hands over my sore knee.

“Why did you have to scare me so bad?” I whine, hissing as Namjoon’s hands ghost over my knee. He grins at me, not looking at all apologetic.

“Since when did you start sneaking into my studio and listening to my music?” Namjoon’s voice is light, but I can see that he’s panicking a bit.

Rightly so.

“That was the diss track!” I practically shout, pointing at the screen. “I can’t believe you’ve never let me listen to it!”

Namjoon shakes his head, looking a little off as he pulls me to my feet. “It’s...you ready to eat?”

He dodges all of my other questions as we head out into the black SUV. I glare at him from where I sit beside him, only wanting an answer to my question.

Namjoon looks exhausted. More exhausted than I’ve ever seen him. He struggles to keep his eyes in one place as he stares out the window, his knee bobbing up and down.

His legs instantly settle as I place my hand atop his knee. “Did you really not want me to listen to it?”

Namjoon exhales a long sigh, finally turning to look at me. “I...isn’t it a bit overwhelming? I mean, that’s what the guys said when we recorded it. It’s all a bit too much, don’t you think?”

I furrow my brows, shaking my head. Of all the things that these boys have done, this is the project that seems over the top? “Of course not. Why do you think that?”

Shrugging his shoulders, Namjoon takes my hand in his and begins to study it like it’s some sort of newly discovered species. “I mean, the entire song is about how I felt like I never even breathed before I met you. It’s basically me confessing my undying devotion. Don’t you think that’s a little hardcore? Maybe too hardcore to put in the album?”

He has a point. It’s only about five months since we went public. Suddenly dropping a song that’s dedicated to his soulmate and not to his fans would probably hurt more than inspire.

“Can I tell you what I think?”

Namjoon’s eyes are bright as he nods at me. “Always.”

“I think you’re both right and wrong.” Namjoon looks confused but he doesn’t interrupt. “It’s intense, sure. Hardcore? Maybe. But it’s how you feel. And that’s all that really matters. I, for one, think it’s pretty great. It’s nice to know that you feel like that.”

“So you think I should put it into the album?”

I shrug. “If you want to, I guess. It’s up to you. I see where you’re hesitating; some people might not take to it. Especially since it hasn't been that long since everything happened. But I do think that there are probably some people out in the world that would like it.”

Namjoon nods, taking on a serious expression as he looks back out the window. It’s quiet for the rest of the ride; something that I’ve grown accustomed to with Namjoon. It’s only as we’re arriving at the small restaurant that everyone has gathered at that he turns back to me. I wait for him to speak, playing with the ring on his finger as he gathers his thoughts.

He sighs heavily, his breath making my hair fly and making me smile. He smiles back, albeit a little uncertainly.

“Can’t we be selfish?”

I stare up at him. That’s not what I expected. “What...what do you mean?”

Namjoon rolls his shoulders. “I love the song. And I’m so happy that you love it, too. And while I think that there might be a few people in the world that might love it as well, I just...I want to be selfish for once.”

He quiet for a moment as he prepares to say the rest of his speech. Turning to face him completely, I see the bodyguards outside the back entrance of the restaurant. The others must already be here.

“You...you’re everything to me.” Namjoon fights to keep a light tone, but I can see right through him. “And I already share so much with the rest of the world. I even have to share you, in a way. We have to be so open and transparent about everything, which I get it. It’s good. I don’t mind most of the time. But just this once, I want to be selfish. This one time, I don’t want to share.”

I slide over closer to him, smiling softly as his arms automatically encircle me. “So you don’t want to include the song in the album?”

Namjoon shakes his head. “No. I don’t. I want it to be our song. Just ours. For your eyes and ears only.”

Reaching up to brush his hair away from his forehead I can’t help but laugh a little. My soulmate stares down at me, trying to figure out what’s made me laugh this time.

“What’s so funny about that?”

I shake my head. “No, I get it. That’s...perfect. Really. I would love nothing more than to be selfish with you.”

“Then...?”

Leaning up to brush a kiss against his cheek, I marvel at the way his cheeks still go a little red even after all these months. “I just can’t believe that you dedicated an entire diss track to me. I’m flattered.”

Namjoon rolls his eyes, groaning as he leans over to open the car door. “You’re the worst.”

I laugh, following after him and instantly feeling better as I see that he doesn’t look quite so weighed down anymore. “No way! You can’t say that after you just dedicated a song to me! What was it that you say in it again? My first breath after swimming or something?”

Namjoon whirls around, feigning offense as he loops his arms around my shoulders. “It’s you’re my first breath after drowning under their expectations you little punk. Get it right.”

“Oooh, that’s right.” We push the door open and follow the sound of familiar voices. “Well, since you wrote a song about me...”

Namjoon pauses, pulling on my arm as I try to go on without him. “What? You can’t just say things like that and not finish them!”

I cackle at his exasperated expression. “I can’t really say much yet, but I’ll say this. Stay tuned for a new Webtoon about a pair of star-crossed soulmates.”

Namjoon’s eyes widen, a bit of boyish excitement peeking through. “Wait...really?” I nod. “That’s amazing! It’s about us, isn’t it? When is it coming out? Did you already pitch the idea? What are their-”

I cut him off, laughing as I back away from him. “Nope. That’s all the information you’re going to get, Joon.”

“What?! Why?”

Everyone goes quiet as we near the room, and I swear I can hear Taehyung mumbling something about how we’re here and as loud as always.

Holding up six fingers in front of my soulmate’s face, I glare at him. “Six months, Kim Namjoon. You made me wait six months before I found the song. And you didn’t even show me! Consider this my revenge.”

Striding off and leaving him in the dust, I barely catch what he mumbles under his breath, but I’m pretty sure I hear something along the lines of met my match and insufferable.

Winking at him over my shoulder, I can’t help but agree.

I’ve definitely met my match.

taglist: @mae-musicbitch @heartblackerthancoffee @agustneeds @eusticenatalie @taylorroe3 @dreamcatcherjiah

#Namjoon fluff #kim namjoon fluff #Namjoon soulmate au #rm fluff #rm soulmate au #Kim Namjoon soulmate au #joon #koya #bts soulmate au #bts soulmate fluff #bts fluff #7 secrets #bts writer #bts fanfic #bts imagine #bts soulmate

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writesowhatnext · 4 years ago

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aren’t you full of surprises // charlie weasley

Summary: Charlie Weasley cannot possibly be your soulmate: he’s got nothing to do with dragons

Request: Hiya love, can I request a soulmate au with Charlie weasley?? Something about a little symbol on their body which represents their soulmate and Charlie’s soulmates is a little dragon which he sees after a quidditch match or something?! Thank you!!

A/N: I really love Charlie oml – this is mostly based on the books and stuff &&&& I included tonks bc I love her and she’s in the same year so made it easy +++ s/o to anon who told me Sam Heughan was a good fan cast bc you were right and he’s perfect :))))

Reader: unspecified

Warnings: swearing I suppose, making out ;)

You had decided that you were completely over having a soulmate. They were supposed to be perfect for you, sure, but they were ever so messy. What if you liked someone that wasn’t your soulmate? What if you never met your soulmate and you spiralled into a deep, dark, endless depression and ended up alone? What if your soulmate was cruel to animals? Or smelt bad? What if they supported the Falmouth Falcons? There were just too many things out of your control and so, after another recurring debate with your friend, Tonks, you had sworn off the idea completely.

“Y/N! Soulmates complete you!” Crumbs from the toast in her mouth tumbled back onto her plate as you rolled your eyes. “I know that I’m counting down the days ‘til I find whoever this is.”

As she pointed at the little wolf symbol on her wrist, her hair turned the softest, lightest shade of pink. It always did when she thought about her soulmate. You shot her a deadpan look.

“I just don’t think it’s very fair. Some people never find their soulmates – the whole thing is very unpredictable.”

“You’re missing the point,” Tonks insisted, her hair turning a light brown. “Soulmates are the only thing in this world that are actually reliable! They’re sweet and you’re supposed to share them with people!”

“Not this again-“

“I don’t understand why you won’t show me yours.”

“Sorry, Tonks, I think I hear McGonagall calling me.” You lied very obviously, standing up from the Hufflepuff table, and walking towards the door - the opposite way to where McGonagall was sat at the Teacher’s table.

“I’ll find out one day!” Tonks shouted after you, mouth once again full of toast.

It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Tonks; she was actually the only person you did trust, sometimes. It was just that whenever you looked at the dragon curled up on your shoulder, all you felt was annoyed at the universe. Besides, you had your eyes set on someone anyway.

Charlie Weasley had surprised you every time you learnt something new about him. He was handsome and well built, with ridiculously unruly hair and skin entirely covered with freckles. The first time you’d really heard of him was at the end of second year when he was made Seeker for the Gryffindor quidditch team. Not long after, he was made Quidditch Captain and so, you’d written him, perhaps prematurely, as a classic Quidditch jock: he’d probably join a regional team straight out of Hogwarts and that would be that. You had to admit though, after seeing him play once against Hufflepuff (a match Tonks had dragged you to), he was probably good enough to play for the nationals.

It surprised you more than anything to know that he’d been made a prefect, too. Granted, you didn’t know a lot about him, but you were pleasantly intrigued to hear that he was not only athletic but also quite smart. If anyone asked, he was definitely not the reason you tried out for the team that year. No one was as shocked as you when you were made chaser. Not even Charlie.

After a particularly intense match involving six fouls, a runaway snitch and a near-death experience, you were quite grateful to be back on two feet. The ground had never felt so good. What made it better, actually, was who stood to greet you by the entrance to the pitch. Even in his robes with a red and gold Gryffindor scarf draped around his neck, he’d never looked so good.

“Y/N, right?” he asked, a tentative smile playing on his lips.

“Yeah,” you couldn’t help but match his grin. “And you’re Charlie Weasley.”

“I didn’t realise I had such a reputation.”

He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, raising an eyebrow.

“You don’t.” you said, teasing him, walking past before turning around. “Your brothers are making a name for themselves. Their pranks are already pretty notorious.”

“Ah.”

“I may have heard of their older brother, world-class quidditch legend and prefect before, though.”

“Well,” he started almost bashfully. “I’m not much of a prefect.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, biting the inside of your cheek.

“You played really well out there today,”

“Coming from you, that’s quite the compliment.”

“You’re quite the player.”

You didn’t say anything, enjoying the moment far too much.

“I’ll see you around, Y/N.”

You nodded, kissing your teeth and turning to get out of your sweaty Quidditch uniform. “See you around, Weasley.”

As you walked back to the changing rooms, you officially made your mind up. Sod your soulmate, you wanted Charlie Weasley.

He made it quite easy for you to achieve your goal. That next day, you sat at the Hufflepuff table, as you often did. Tonks was already launching into a story about a Ravenclaw she had seen Charlie’s brothers prank yesterday when she stopped abruptly midsentence. You frowned at her before following her eyes to look behind you. With a plate of pancakes in his hand and an optimistic smile on his face, there stood Charlie Weasley.

“Can I join you?”

Slightly speechless, you looked to Tonks, mildly irritated to see her staring at you with a smug eyebrow raise.

“Sure.”

Quickly getting to grips with the fact that Charlie wanted to eat with you, you began to lighten up to the idea, glad that he enjoyed your company even a little bit as much as you enjoyed his.

“Tonks, this is Charlie-“

“We’ve met.” She said, an amused smile on her lips as she stabbed some bacon with her fork. You turned to Charlie to see that he’d gone slightly red, a lovely expression on his freckled face.

“You called her Nymphadora, didn’t you?”

He nodded, letting out a nervous laugh. “For the first and last time, that’s for certain.”

“Rightly so.” Tonks nodded, seemingly very pleased with herself.

“You’re a menace.” You pointed at her with your fork.

“Little old me?” Her face was the picture of innocence as she flung her hand backwards, the bacon on her fork flying into the back of a Ravenclaw at the next table. Her hair, along with her face, turned a deep pink shade.

“A menace.” You repeated, crossing your arms before turning to Charlie, who had been staring at you rather intently with an unreadable expression.

“Tonks was just telling me about a prank your brothers pulled yesterday. Given she can’t behave herself at all, she’s quite impressed with them.”

“At least someone is.” He said with a grin. “My mum might actually kill them when we get home.”

“That would be a shame,” Tonks frowned, chewing. “Someone needs to cause a little mayhem when I leave.”

“You think they could replace your legacy just like that?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Of course not, but they have to try.”

“Don’t think they could ever beat the time you put that Venomous Tentacula plant in Snape’s classroom,” Charlie’s smile was infectious as he remembered one of Tonks most infamous pranks.

Tonks’ face soured slightly. “I’m still doing detention for that one.”

You, Charlie and Tonks fell into easy conversation and more often than not, you found yourself staring at his attractive face and enjoying the sound of his deep voice.

“So, what d’you have today, Charles?” Tonks asked, a teasing smile on her lips.

“You’re playing with fire.” You warned her, knowing how much she hated her full name. She made a face. Ever the gentleman, Charlie just smirked at her teasing.

“Care of Magical Creatures, first-“

“You took that?” you asked, unable to hide the incredulous tone of your voice. He laughed.

“Yes? What’s wrong with that?”

“Well,” you frowned. “Nothing’s wrong with it, per se. I just didn’t expect you to take it.”

“And, why’s that?”

He turned to face you expectantly, his elbow resting on the table.

“Because you’re a total jock.”

“Oh, really?”

“Quidditch legend, remember?”

He shook his head, smiling. “So, jocks can’t like taking care of magical creatures?”

“They can.” You bit your lip. “They just usually don’t.”

“Are you saying I’m not like other boys?”

Lost for a witty response, you just stared at him. You felt, though cliché, that this was the first time you were actually seeing Charlie Weasley. The amused twinkle in his eye and the soft curve of his lips and the fact that there was a much softer side to him than you’d ever imagined caught you off guard. It seemed like all he ever did was surprise.

“Oh,” Tonks said, drawing both you and Charlie’s attention away from each other. “Bugger,” Her tone was stretched and full of imitated emotion. “I have to get to-“ Her pause was ridiculously long as she stood up from the table, nearly wearing the soupy sauce left from her baked beans as she did. “A class?”

Before you could say anything, she sent you a very conspicuous wink and legged it out of the hall. You would’ve been embarrassed at her obvious attempt to leave you two alone had Charlie not turned to you, amusement written all over his face.

“Blimey, she shot off quick – I bet that class is important.”

The next few weeks, you and Charlie were practically joined at the hip. Every single meal was spent with Tonks at the Hufflepuff table and weekends you spent walking through the grounds talking about everything and nothing all at the same time. He told you everything he could about his family and you told him about how you ended up on the Quidditch team and how strange it was to not be around your own family at Hogwarts. You never talked about the future – it was an unspoken rule. You knew Charlie must’ve had a soulmate and you knew he probably didn’t feel the same as you about the whole deal and so you kept quiet about it. It felt obvious that regardless of what you two were now, as soon as his soulmate came along, he would probably ditch you for them and the idea, as much as you tried to avoid it, pained you a little bit. You’d never felt as happy as you were when you were with him.

You’d been excited for your last Quidditch game of the year, especially as you knew that Charlie would be cheering you on the whole time. You wanted to impress him, as well, despite yourself and so you tried your hardest to play your best. It was going well, all and all, until you were hit by a rogue bludger. You should’ve been paying more attention and so you cursed yourself when you’d been knocked from your broom. To say you were quite relieved that you caught the broom before you fell would be an understatement. And with the cheers of the crowd around you to spur you on, you managed to climb back on and continue playing. You’d completely forgotten about it with the excitement of the rest of the match – and winning, to your surprise. Charlie hadn’t though.

Alone in the changing rooms whilst everyone else was celebrating, you moved your shoulder back and forth, wincing as you realised that the bludger would definitely leave a bruise. You’d only been there a moment before Charlie barged in with a worried look in his dark eyes.

“Are you okay?”

You blinked at him as he came closer, mouth opening and closing slowly.

“Yeah, Charlie, I’m fine. It was-“

“Thank god.” He said, pulling you into a tight hug. You went rigid for a moment in his bulky arms before you relaxed into the unexpected embrace. “Are you hurt?”

He pulled back, hands resting on your upper arms. The concern in his voice and the warmth of his hands left you slightly breathless. Your heartbeat was loud in your ears.

“I’m fine.” You said softly, smiling. “Might have a nasty bruise, but nothing I can’t handle.”

“Show me.”

You rolled your eyes at his insistence, though you were touched at his concern. So much so, you absentmindedly pulled down your Quidditch uniform to reveal your shoulder, something you’d never done before. You shivered as his fingers skimmed your skin before a breathless whisper left his lips.

“No way.”

“What?” you asked, blinking away the feeling of Charlie that had so consumed you. Almost instantly, you realised your mistake. “Oh!”

Trying to undo what had already been done, you yanked your robes back over your shoulder, hiding the symbol from view.

“It’s a dragon,” He said ever so softly, seemingly stunned.

“Charlie, I-“

“Y/N, I love dragons.”

Still attempting to preserve whatever was left of you and Charlie’s relationship, your mind raced at a mile a minute thinking about how he would react to your soulmate, a topic you’d never spoken about together. You were so distracted you almost missed what he said.

“What?”

“I’m surprised I didn’t mention it,” he looked from your covered shoulder to your equally shocked expression. “My family says I never bloody shut up about them. That’s what I want to do after Hogwarts, actually, working with dragons in Romania.”

Unable to form a coherent thought, your lips reacted before your brain had the chance.

“Are you taking the piss?”

Charlie barked a laugh, stepping closer to you.

“I knew I always felt something different around you.” He said with a decidedly gleeful look on his face as he shrugged. “Makes sense, really.”

“Soulmates.” You brushed your hair out of your face with both hands. “Tonks is gonna have an absolute field day with this.” His lips twitched. “I’ve spent years telling her that I was gonna choose who I wanted to love and soulmates were a bunch of rubbish-“

“Should I be offended?” he asked, stepping closer again. Your chest tightened slightly at the proximity.

“Well, no. I decided about a month ago that my soulmate could piss off and you were all I wanted.”

He didn’t say anything; an amused smile lifting his cheeks at your rambling.

“It was a bit of an up yours to the universe, actually.”

You inhaled sharply as his hands gently held your waist.

“Turns out the joke is on me-“ His fond expression cut you off.

“Soulmates, eh?” you asked, looking into his eyes. Before you could utter another nervous syllable, he moved forward and captured your lips in a kiss. You leant backwards; his hands pulling your waist into him as your hands disappeared into his unruly red curls. Pulling at them slightly, he moaned into your mouth and you couldn’t help but smile in response. You pulled away, deciding that breathing would be a fun activity for your both to enjoy. You panted, your breaths mingling together as an ear-splitting grin grew on his face.

“I think, love,” he said, pressed a chaste peck to your lips. “That it’s time I told you a bit more about dragons.”

#charlie weasley #Charlie Weasley imagine #harry potter #Harry Potter imagine #imagine #writing #Charlie Weasley x reader

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ampleappleamble · 3 years ago

Text

—

Stubborn and haughty, it read. Dismissive of the soul sciences, as befitting his Aedyre heritage. Very rude and difficult to work with.

"Unbelievable," Aloth spat.

Upon leaving the sanitarium, the group had jointly decided that perhaps their trip to the expedition den could wait until the following day. However, there were still a few loose ends around town to tie up, and a few more hours of daylight in which to do it. Nevertheless– and despite his objections– Axa insisted that Aloth stay behind and rest at the inn, give his nerves a brief respite after all he'd been through that day while the rest of the party tended to business. And so now he sat in his room at the Charred Barrel, alone with his thoughts.

And with Bellasege's research notes.

How relaxing, he thought, glaring hatefully at the little stack of papers.

Most of the document was utterly unintelligible to Aloth, consisting of either overly technical animancy jargon or Vailian hen scratch, but what little she'd bothered to scribble down in Aedyran only asserted what he already knew– that this woman was a charlatan, a sensationalist hack more interested in reinforcing her own harebrained assumptions than in helping anyone. Least of all him, considering she evidently knew exactly what his fellow Aedyrans thought about animancy and the Awakened and yet she still intended to publish his full name and home province along with her ludicrous excuse of a diagnosis. All she was after, as he suspected most animancers were, was fortune and glory, and his reputation was apparently a sacrifice she was willing to make in the pursuit of that goal.

He had known since the instant the woman had started transcribing his very personal, very private memories that her notes would somehow have to find their way into his hands, so as soon as he'd seen his chance, he'd taken it– and as soon as he'd secured the notes and slipped them into his cloak, he'd seen Axa watching him. Not expecting to be caught in the act, he'd frozen in horror, silently pleading with the little woman to turn a blind eye– and he'd been pleasantly surprised when she'd done exactly that, glancing furtively at Bellasege and then back at him before turning her back on them both and heading for the door, the barest hint of disapproval in her eyes.

Part of him couldn't help but think that that was why she'd left him here by himself– because she was disappointed with him for betraying Bellasege's trust like that, promising her her long-sought prize only to rip it away immediately afterwards, and right under her nose to boot. But he reminded himself that Axa wasn't the kind of woman to practice punitive shunning like that, and if she'd had a problem with what he'd done, she'd have discussed it with him, probably even called him out right there in the animancer's office. After all, she had to know that it had been her who had truly helped him, not Bellasege. So what would she care if that fraud no longer had anything to show for her so-called efforts?

"'Be ever honest, forthright, and true'– fye, yer a fine auld piece o' work, laddie."

Iselmyr had been uncharacteristically quiet ever since her outburst in the sanitarium, her appetite for bickering seemingly sated until now, and Aloth jumped at her sudden resurgence in his mind. "Maybe you'd be perfectly fine with word of our condition becoming common knowledge back home," he retorted, recovering quickly, "but I would rather keep our private matters private. Besides, I didn't hear you objecting at the time."

He was expecting more of her usual sharp-tongued impudence, but was surprised when Iselmyr only scoffed softly in his mind instead. "Naught t' object tae. Fer once."

Iselmyr not sassing him was one thing, but Iselmyr actually agreeing with him was quite another. Stunned into silence, Aloth could only blink stupidly as Axa's words back at the sanitarium popped into his head– "Try it her way, let her in"– when there was a knock at the door, and, grateful for the interruption, he bid his visitor enter.

Axa stepped in slowly, carefully, only cracking the door just enough to allow her inside before shutting it behind her. "Hey," she smiled, rubbing at a fresh bruise on her forearm as she crossed the room. "Just got back. The others are downstairs having a late dinner. How're you holding up?"

"As well as can be expected," he replied breezily, shifting position to face her, frowning as he gestured to her wound. "Looks like you had an eventful evening despite my absence. What happened?"

"Oh, nothing serious," she sighed. "Helped an old man find and free the soul of his long-dead lover from a necromancer... gave an orlan who'd found himself on the wrong side of the law a second chance at life... exorcised a lighthouse by striking a deal with some pirates... The usual, you know." She grinned up at him briefly before thrusting her chin at the sheaf of paper in his hands, clearing her throat. "Still figuring out what you're gonna do with those, are you?"

"Oh, I know exactly what I'm going to do with them," he sneered, twisting the notes into a tight little tube in his hands. "I was just looking though them first for any information that might actually be useful to me. I'm sure it'll surprise you to learn I found nothing." He scoffed, rolling his eyes. "She didn't even get the color of my hair correct. You wouldn't happen to need a light for your pipe, would you?"

Axa laughed and declined politely, and so Aloth narrowed his eyes at the animancer's notes, gesturing with his free hand and whispering a few arcane power words, and in a few seconds the papers were ablaze, quickly crumbling into ash on the floor. Another gesticulation, a few more muttered words, and seconds later even the blackened remains were swept away into the aether, leaving nothing behind but a gray smudge on the rug.

"Well, that's that then." Axa sighed, shaking her head as she stared at the smokey spot. "Shame you two couldn't have helped each other more."

He looked away, crossing his arms over his chest. "More? She didn't help me at all. She pointed some contraption at me, humiliated me with prying questions, and when she couldn't even be bothered to put together her own conclusions, she relied on you to fill in the gaps. If anything, my destroying her ridiculous notes is evening the score."

"I know you've not much love for animancers, Aloth, but Bellasege really was trying. Whether it was to help you learn about yourself or to further her own knowledge of the soul sciences, I can't rightly say, but still." The orlan planted her fists on her hips, regarding him cautiously. "Personally, I think she was in over her head a bit. But how can we expect animancers to improve any or to advance the craft as a whole if we don't cooperate with them every now and again?"

"That would be fair enough if their methods were ever anything approaching sound," he retorted. "But you heard her. Black bile? My spleen? Drivel. Quackery. And publishing my identifying information like that is entirely irresponsible. What if someone from home were to see it? I'd be ruined." Color had crept into his face as he'd spoken, and he paused a moment to collect himself, but only succeeded in winding himself up further. "The only reason we figured out anything about my condition from that farce in her office is because you and I have half decent educations and a modicum of common sense between us. Imagine your average kith– Hel, your average Dyrwoodan going to a woman like Bellasege for a consultation. Big words and shiny gadgets are all most people need to believe just about anything a con artist like her can conjure up."

The little woman raised her eyebrow at him. "You do bring up some good points, I'll grant you that. Question is, what's to be done about it? As it is now, the only authority anyone seems to want to exert over the practice is to either let animancers– or anyone who calls themselves animancers– go totally unchecked, or to ban animancy completely. Is there to be no middle ground?"

"It's not our political leaders' jobs to understand animancy's deepest nuances so they can legislate it 'fairly'," he sighed, gently massaging his temple. "They've enough to contend with without having to study an experimental new branch of science, particularly in the Dyrwood."

"Then why not make animancers the ones who decide? Or, at least, give them the chance to advise those who do the deciding." Axa's eyes brightened as she argued, reminding Aloth uncomfortably of Kana. "A council of well-respected animancers, perhaps, selected from among those most trusted and revered in their fields."

Aloth's lip drew back in a grimace. "Let animancers legislate themselves? That's a recipe for disaster if ever I heard one."

She shrugged. "Just tossing out ideas. We'd all probably fare better that way than we do in the chaos we have now."

"I don't see how, but... seeing as it's coming from you, the idea might be worth considering." The words were out of his mouth before he really realized what he was saying, and he jolted slightly to hear himself say them.

She laughed. "Don't go around pinning all your trust on any one person or institution completely, Aloth. Not even me. You'll regret it, trust me."

He smiled at his feet, cheeks and ears growing warm. "As you say, Lady Mala. What's on the schedule for tomorrow, then? I'd join you and the others and discuss the matter over dinner, but if I'm being honest, I'm having a rather difficult time working up an appetite for yet more overboiled stew and watered wine."

Her demeanor changed in an instant, her casual slouch straightening, her face abruptly flipping from relaxed to sober. "Wyla, the justiciar from Crucible Keep that we talked to this morning, caught us on our way back here," she stated gravely. "Heritage Hill will be open to us tomorrow morning."

Aloth froze. "Heritage Hill," he repeated softly. "Did she... have anything to say about the conditions beyond the gates?"

She shook her head again, a haunted look drifting into her eyes. "Apparently, it's bedlam in there," she murmured. "Patrols go in, but they don't come out. The dead walk the streets."

"And the Leaden Key has something to do with it all," he finished for her.

"They do. They must. And we're going to find out what. Together," she answered, determination hardening her voice. She gave him a feisty grin, then, lifted her eyes to meet his, and the intensity of her gaze made him avert his. "So you'd better get some rest, then, if you're not going to eat."

He chuckled amicably. "As long as we don't get anymore unexpected midnight visitors, I'm sure I'll be well rested come morning."

She scoffed and swatted him lightly on the knee. "Well! I'll just bind my feet before turning in for the night, shall I?"

They laughed together for a moment, then, and Aloth felt something inside him finally loosening up and spreading throughout him, like an enormous flower made of light and air blooming in his chest. It made him feel warm and giddy and free in a way he never really had before, and the feeling persisted even after Axa had spun on her heel and sauntered across the room, smiling at him one last time before disappearing into the hallway beyond, pulling the door shut behind her. He didn't know exactly what it meant– he'd never felt it before, so how could he?– but he had his suspicions, none of which he was really prepared to get into tonight. So instead he got ready for bed, smile still stuck to his warm face as he changed into his nightclothes, washed his face, brushed his hair.

Was ye e'er plannin' on tellin' her it was yerself whit let her intae yer room last night? He could practically hear the cheeky little grin in Iselmyr's voice.

"No," he sighed, "because it was you who did that, not I. And you know it." He was still smiling. He couldn't seem to stop.

Fye, lad, whit diff'rence dae it make?

"All the difference in the world," he answered, and with a flick of his wrist, all the lights in the room simultaneously snuffed out.

—

#pillars of eternity #poe anthem infinitum #yes it's a joke about the wiki saying he has 'dark brown' hair #it's black though........?#also holy shit chapter 11 is finished #polishing and posting the full chapter soon!#thanks for reading ♡

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theotheroccassionalfanficwriter · 4 years ago

Text

How to Get Married the Mammon Way: Accidental Acquisition of the Best Wife

Summary: They were hanging out together after completing the job of corrupting human lives when Belphegor had asked him out of nowhere,

"When are you going to tell Lucifer you're married?"

And then he tripped into the ground.

5 times Mammon accidentally acted like his Master's lover + 1 time his Master out rightly called him, "My husband, Mammon".

Rating: T

Tags: Fluff no Angst, Accidental Marriage Acquisition, Established Relationship, One-sided pining because Mammon never noticed he got married and got the girl, Himbo, Moronsexual

The first time Lucifer heard that Mammon got into trouble again with a witch, The Magus of Stars, he was prepared to either fight, bribe, or manipulate his way to ensure his favorite foolish brother didn't end up dead.

Except the scene that greeted him wasn't Mammon about to die or getting the short end of the stick. What greeted him was the sight of his brother happily harvesting lotus seeds while wearing a flower crown.

The Magus of Stars was nowhere to be found and Lucifer quickly and decisively went over to the pond to haul his brother up and leave before the Magus showed up.

"Mammon! You idiot! Hurry up and let go of those before the Magus shows up!"

"Wha—? Lucifer! Why the hell are you here?!"

Lucifer frowned. Something wasn't right.

"Oh my, Mammon is this one of your brothers?"

Lucifer jolted and turned around to see the infamous Magus who predated even the Prophet Noah.

"Yeah! He's the oldest Lucifer!" Mammon had happily introduced as he waded out of the water and quickly took the plate of sandwiches and handed one to him.

"!"

"C'mon and take it! Her cooking's the best yanno!"

In front of him, Mammon was weirdly acting protective towards the Magus. His brother's free hand was settled on the curve of your waist while his left wing was angled in a way that almost seemed like he was cradling her.

“Don’t worry~! It’s just regular human sandwich” You assured him, knowing that the Morningstar was someone who had heard of you considering your involvement with the Garden of Eden.

Lucifer looked at his brother who was happily eating the sandwiches and being pampered by you.

He eyed you both with a hint of disdain as he warily ate the sandwich. He was surprised with the burst of flavors and wondered if humans had advanced this much when it came to cooking.

“So what did you come here for?” Mammon had asked.

You looked at Lucifer as well and silently handed him a kerchief to wipe his face off. And with a snap of your fingers, a glass of spring water appeared in front of him.

“Thank you.” Lucifer said to you, he turned to Mammon, “I heard you were in trouble with witches”.

Mammon gulped and Lucifer frowned harder while you let a silent, “Oh.” as you calmed Mammon down.

“They’re no longer a problem now,” You explained as you rubbed soothing circles on Mammon’s back “He was quite unfortunate enough to end up being involve with a...territorial dispute.”

“Ye-yeah.” Mammon agreed his wings fluttering and Lucifer took a good long look at his brother who had began sweating profusely and looking at anywhere else but him.

“Maammooonn...did you make a pact?”

“It-It wa-was the only o-option!!!” Mammon shrieked as he hid behind you.

You stared down at Lucifer, stance subtly changing into protective and readying for a battle. Lucifer held no doubt you’d easily overpower him, pact with Mammon notwithstanding.

“I assure you. They’re no longer a problem and all loose ends have been tied up” You repeated.

Lucifer looked through you and you looked right back. He retreated and bid both of you farewell.

Mammon was currently and happily lounging about in your new residence in a town. His master had dubbed this era as Neolithic, Mammon had lost interest once he learned that most stuffs were made out of clay. You had merely chuckled at his put out face before gifting him a couple of gold necklaces and bangles you had alchemized.

“Welcome back~!” Mammon greeted as he happily floated towards you.

“I’m home.” You said warmly, welcoming him in your arms and admiring the new adornments he was wearing.

“A caravan passed by here awhile ago while you were out~ they had a flock of sheep with them,” Mammon reported dutifully, eyes gleaming with the prospect of having lamb chops “should I tell them to go rest somewhere else or to stay for a price?”

“Hmmm ask them if they have a son named David.” You instructed as you led him into the kitchen to begin dinner.

You were pleased to know that he had prepared all the ingredients for tonight’s dinner.

“What for? Is it someone important?” Mammon whined not pleased at the thought of sharing you, his first and only Master.

“Might be,” You hummed “I’ve heard that Saul is drawing that person’s ire... best if we don’t get involved”.

Mammon frowned as he started the fire, “The big guy upstairs? what’s he planning now?”

“Depends” You answered as you finished chopping all the vegetables and began frying into the wok, “On how obedient Saul would be.”

“Bring a pot of this to them and we’ll dine on the better meat” You ordered Mammon.

Carrying a big pot of curry, Mammon had walked over to the campsite, first handing the food for the Caravan before doing as he was told. After receiving confirmation that they did in fact had a David, Mammon had told them they could stay in the outskirts of your estate but they had to leave after 3 days on the first light.

Mammon offered no explanation beyond that and left to report back to you.

“You did well!” You praised him as you finished serving him the juiciest and softest meat, “Did they realize you were a demon?”

“Not at all! I’m the Great Mammon after all!”

You smiled before abruptly turning towards the window, “However this Master doesn’t appreciate eavesdropping children.”

A snap of your fingers and you saw the child destined to be the Prophet King.

“Ah...” You looked at the child with pity, “I will show you mercy just this once...however it is best you avoid me from now on.”

With another snap of your fingers, David found himself on the outskirts of the caravan, and you turned to Mammon and said,

“I’m afraid we’d have to part ways for years. That child already has the Mark. You should leave the day after tomorrow.”

“Wha-what for?! We can take on a couple of angels!” Mammon complained. It was more fun up here than in Devildom.

You smiled wryly and ruffled his hair as whined and tried to pout his way out of being sent back.

“It’s too dangerous,” You told him honestly “and I don’t want you to get involve in this...”

“But what if you need protection?”

“Then I’ll call for you,” You replied as you gave him some of your Mana “though I do hope it doesn’t come to that.”

Seeing that there was no changing your mind, Mammon back down though he did demand for gifts of gold upon his return. You laughed and agreed. The two of you spent a peaceful night together as you wined and dined in your library.

The next time you’d meet Mammon would have involved his fifth brother, Asmodeus and Solomon, the Son of David.

You were going about on your day on the market, browsing slaves to employ and hopefully set them free from slavery, when you had spotted a demon whose beauty was unparalleled and bound in blessed ropes.

“Oh dear.” You whispered, just a tinge distressed upon the realization that Mammon’s younger sibling had gotten himself captured, “Excuse me, Good sir!”

You had called upon the slave trader, halting their departure.

Had you been of the lesser folk, they would have scorned you for the interruption but your fine silk robes and golden adornments showed that you were a person of high rank.

“What might we do for you, Madam.” The slave trader demurred.

Behind him Asmodeus scoffed and you leveled the cheeky demon a look, a mother might give a particularly disobedient child.

“Ah, so the pretty one caught your eye?”

“Yes. How much for him?” You asked and subtly showed, the medallion conferred to Magis.

"200 gold" the slave trader replied.

“1000 and pretend this never happened” You told him as you handed two hefty pouches of gold.

The slave trader nods at you and with a snap of your fingers the bindings on Asmodeus loosened. You reached out for him and take him away from the cart and into the shaded alleys of the town.

Asmodeus remained silent as he observed you, the infamous Magi of the Stars and Mammon’s longest running Pact Master. Your head was wrapped and only showed your inhumanely gold eyes that reminded Asmodeus of someone but the memory eludes him.

“Well then what do you want?” He asked once you had stopped and turned to him.

His smile though seemingly kind belied a smidgen of derision and superiority.

“The reason why you allowed yourself to get tied up with blessed ropes?!? Is it your first time up here?” You demanded, unable to hide your worry and annoyance.

And it had rubbed him the wrong way. Asmodeus didn’t fancy having a mere Magi like you to lecture him when he believed himself to be older than you and he had no problem telling you so,

“I’m older than you, a mere human who harnesses the power of the stars!”

You smirked at him, amused at what you saw was childish tantrum, “I’ve been here long before Noah and his kin rebuilt the continent. I had already ventured through all of this place before the other Gods were born”.

And Asmodeus smelled the stars on you and drowned in the voices he once knew.

“Just what are you?!?” He asked, shaken at the depths of your powers.

You smiled and miraculously sent him and yourself back to your new palace. Both of you had reappeared in the middle of one of your bathrooms, you called for one of your servants and had them prepare and help Asmodeus to bathe and to Asmodeus you said,

“The waters of this palace are enchanted to heal all wounds. Go freshen yourself up while I call your brother.”

By the time, Asmodeus had emerged from the bath, he was given freshly cleaned clothes made out of the finest silk and cotton, and adorned with jewelries and gold, while his hair smelled faintly of roses.

He was led towards one of your lounge area and heard Mammon’s voice,

“Geez~! You must have missed the Great Mammon a lot to have called this soon? AHAHAHAHAHA!!!”

Asmodeus felt his face twitch at the disgustingly sweet and joyous voice his elder brother had after 60 years of seeing him mope around in Devildom. And decided to go and play a trick on his brother.

“Honey~! Do you really not want a pact with me?” He playfully whined as he plastered himself at your smaller frame upon entering the room.

The servants had already retreated to the side.

“Wha-!What are you doing here! Didn’t you have a job to do?!” Mammon angrily asked as he pried Asmodeus away from you and held you tightly in his arms.

You remained silent and decided to watch the show while making yourself comfortable in Mammon’s arms. It had been a long time of separation after all.

“Oh! That? Well your master kindly rescued me after all~!” Asmodeus answered, “I’d rather have a pact with her~”

“No! Absolutely not! I’m her only man!” He declared and gripped you tighter.

“!”

You hid your face behind the palm of your hands, you could feel the heat on your cheeks and wished that no one noticed how happy you were on hearing Mammon say such sweet words.

“Stay away! And go do your job already! We’re busy over here!” Mammon added as he carried you in his arms and away from Asmodeus.

Asmodeus merely blinked before running after them.

He didn’t know how to get to Solomon now after all. In the end, after much begging and whining, Mammon had given in and sent Asmodeus to David’s Palace with your help. You had also sent him with a message for Solomon while telling him that Mammon and you would leave for the other continent after 3 months time.

Asmo smiled and nodded, much more sincere in his dealings with you and said, “Since we’ll be seeing each other a lot from now on~ You can call me Asmo okay? Bye~!”

Mammon spluttered and before he could scold his brother, Asmo was gone with a poof of smoke and it was just you and Mammon.

The two of you walked back into your bedroom and away from the study. You lay on the your soft cotton bed adorned with numerous equally soft pillows in various shades of soft yellow and bright blue. You patted the empty space beside you and Mammon wasted no time to lie by your side and held you close.

60 years maybe a blink of an eye for a demon but it had been 60 years of little to no communication between you and him beyond the sparse letters that you could afford to send to Devildom. He preferred staying up in the human world with you and exploring new lands instead of the perpetual darkness and coldness of Devildom.

“Thank you...for helping Asmo out” He whispered as he burrowed his face into your cleavage and let himself be comforted by your scent.

“It’s only natural for me to do that much” You replied softly as you kissed the crown of his head and slowly lulled him to sleep,”have a lovely dream about whatever you like best”.

Thus Satan was currently under orders and of his own volition to help you out in picking a land and while he would have enjoyed learning from you, he could not ignore his low level irritation towards Mammon that had not stop bringing about places that didn’t fit your criteria.

For the duration of your stay, you would open up and maintain the exits and entrances of the Devildom that connected to the various places at the Human World. Satan knew that despite having a larger pool of Mana when compared to Solomon, according to Asmo, it would take tremendous skill and power to maintain the summoning circle considering that it deteriorated with every use. He had been curious on what you would do as you had merely taken one look at one of the entrances and claimed, "This is doable."

And now you and Mammon were back in Devildom for a little while, at least until the Witch Hunts stopped for good and it was safe to go back up in the human world. Mammon had applied for your temporary residence in Devildom and had successfully convinced Diavolo and Lucifer to let you seek asylum for a while. For a price, that is.

Even so, you had smiled through it all and indulged his idiotic and wayward brother.

“Are you the one paying for it? Why do you keep on choosing this overly luxurious that its a pain in the eyes design?” He asked sharply, and glared at Mammon.

As far as Satan could remember, from memories that were separate from Lucifer, Mammon had always been around you. A Magi who, according to Asmo, had been around since the Garden of Eden. Almost all memories he had of you involved Mammon one way or another.

You blinked and let out a small snort as you held Mammon’s hand.

“What does it matter? Her money is mine as well you know!” He let out a small growl, “You’re here to help us get around! And I’ll be living in this place too so it’s just right for me to go and pick what I want!”

Satan glared harder and crossed his arms in front of his chest. He was having a hard time not maiming Mammon.

“Now, now, no need to fight” You finally spoke once you saw how the poor demon salesman was shivering on the side, “I’m sorry, Satan, you must have been feeling neglected since this was the first time in a long while both Mammon and I returned.”

He blushed and denied.

“Oh?” Mammon grinned, “Well if my cute little brother~ wanted to spend that much time with us you should have said so! Let’s make this quick then!”

Satan said nothing and tried to hold on to his anger even if he was pleased that it felt more of a family outing rather than a date he was intruding.

“Well then, why don’t you help us choose what to use for the library and the labs?” You said as you handed him one of the catalogs, “While Mammon and I decide on which property to buy”.

“Not to far from the House of Lamentation and near RAD...” Mammon mumbled as he went through the list and quickly discarded what didn’t meet his standards, “Close enough to the town but far enough that it isn’t noisy at night.”

Satan peeked and observed at the seriousness of his older brother and compared it to how Mammon acted earlier, and then he thought about all the times Mammon had been attentive towards your needs and anticipating it even before you do...he then arrived at the conclusion,

“The two of you have been married for that long huh?”

You blushed at his blunt statement and Mammon stuttered as he denied it unconvincingly. The two of you had often acted like his parents, and the fact that the two of you were buying a shared property only solidified his belief.

‘But did you both not tell Lucifer yet?’ He wondered as he ignored Mammon and went back on choosing wallpapers and windows for the Library. He smiled at the thought that he knew something that Lucifer didn’t.

Levi had met you multiple times and it hadn’t made any impression on him, you were, as far as he was concerned a meek and gentle human that made a pact with his brother to get him out of trouble. The specifics still eluded them all but they knew it had something to do with an entire country being burned down.

Of course all of this meant nothing when he had to interact with you so early in the morning. It was his turn to cook breakfast and he was surprised to see you already in the kitchen cooking breakfast with magic helping you out.

“—!”

“? Oh! Good morning, Levi!” You had greeted him, apron tied around you while you stirred a simmering pot of soup.

“Go-good morning.” He greeted you awkwardly as he stood to side wondering what to do, just as he was about to ask what you were cooking, Mammon had emerged from the back of the kitchen and carrying with one hand, a slab of meat.

“Yo! Levi, help me cut this meat!”

Levi glanced at you, who had an adoring look on your face, and then towards his brother that was being...a show off with his kitchen skills.

A light bulb went off in his mind and with gritted teeth, Levi grumbled about idiot brothers and humans who flaunt their love.

The three of you cooked silently with the occasional bickering from Mammon and Levi whenever Mammon would sweetly help you carry heavy bowls or open jar of lids while flexing his muscles.

Levi seriously doubted you needed to use most of the lids you had Mammon open for you because,

"I'm sorry but could you open this jar for me, Mammon? My weak human arms just can't open it♡"

And like a damn fool, he's brother would fall for it,

"Of course~ Let the Great Mammon take care of it for you~!"

'Fucking simp.' Levi thought enviously as he angrily plated the roasted meat in tar sauce which he recognized as one of Mammon's favorite dishes, and then brought it along with the Quetzalcoatl blood soup which he also recognized as Mammon's favorite soup.

Which he then placed into the dining table that had a wide array of selections from the three realms; he spotted a bowl of Mapo Tofu, Sweet and Sour Fish, Spicy Orange Chicken from the human realm, from the Celestial Realm he saw the JC Wine Flavored Na-an, the Holy Mother Lamb Stew, and Blessed Fig.

All of which Levi remembered as his older brother's favorite foods.

"Ah! Jeez! What the hell is this selection!" Levi complained just as the twins entered the dining room.

Belphie yawned and rubbed his eyes sleepily, "What's wrong?"

"Mammon and his human wife cooked breakfast!" He complained angrily as envy burned in him.

"Oh! I heard from Lucifer that she makes great food~!" Beel smiled as he headed over to his seat.

"Really? When did Lucifer get a chance to eat her cooking?" Belphie asked as he slowly walked over and sat beside his twin.

"It was during that time Mammon got invovled with that Witch Maddi" Beel answered.

On the side Levi erupted and asked, "Do you really don't see the problem here?!?!!!"

"You're jealous that you can't get laid?" Belphie answered.

"You don't like the food?" Beel frowned sadly.

"You're jealous you don't have a pretty wife to cook for you?" Asmo piped in.

"Hmm that's probably not it? Oh could it be you can't stand the fact that Mammon has a relationship unlike you?" Satan kindly offered.

"I already said that" Belphie replied from his seat.

"My, my, Levi if you're that jealous of a relationship you should go out and talk to other demons more then" Lucifer added as he walked over to his seat.

"Aaaaaah! Since when did you all of you bastards come in?!!"

"Oya? You dare to call me, the first born a bastard?" Lucifer calmly spoke as his face grew dark.

"Eeek!!"

"Good morning everyone! It's nice to see you all!" You greeted as you and Mammon brought the last of the dishes.

"Here you go Beel, this is your extra portion~" You said as you rolled the cart over to Beel's side and left it there.

"Thanks!"

"Grrr! Can't you all see this are Mammon's favorite foods!!" Levi snapped as he clenched his fist and his eyes burned with envy.

Mammon laughed, pleased and smug, as he said, "Maybe you should try having a pact master that would treat like this then...hehe!"

"Wipe that smug look off your face! You bastard just because you have the longest running pact and won the title of Devildom's Most Desired Pact Conditions for 1000 consecutive years!!!"

"I don't understand what you're saying...like at all" Mammon honestly said as he pulled a seat open beside him and sat you there.

Asmo hummed and then decided to pour fuel to flames, "Mammon's right for once! Hey, Renge won't you reconsider and make a pact with me?"

"Oi! You already have Solomon don't ya?!?!!" Mammon said as he paused from putting roasted meat on your plate to growl at Asmodeus.

"Oh my!" Asmodeus blinked and then leveled a sultry look at you.

You blushed and tried to ignore everything around you. Desperately pretending that you didn't get turned on from Mammon's growl.

"All of you, hurry up and eat. We've got a meeting with Diavolo to get into" Lucifer finally snapped, having had enough of his brother's idiocy.

He did however raise a brow at you once he saw that even the drinks were Mammon's favorite. You played dumb and instead enjoy the piles of food Mammon placed in your plate.

On the other side of the table, Levi angrily ate even if he did let out praises for your cooking. Silently, he vowed to have his summoning conditions changed into having delicious personally cooked food as an offering for summoning deals.

"Stupid Mammon..." Levi grumbled under his breath as he munched on the roast meat.

He decided to forgive Mammon when his brother gave him two shares of your pudding up until he realized it was Mango pudding and another one of Mammon's favorite. The two ended up fighting in the Council Room and ended up being tied to the ceiling.

Belphie hated humans since Lilith but even he couldn't find it in himself to hate you as much. Especially since you only ever genuinely cared about Mammon and relegated the rest of them as others you were nice to because of their status as Mammon's brothers. And he liked that.

Your ulterior motives involved Mammon and you had no want nor need for the rest of them Avatars and what they could offer you. It was an uncomplicated and clear relationship which was why he had no problems talking with you if the situation dictates it. You were a simple Mage in love with his demon older brother.

It did rankle him however whenever you acted like one of his Father's favored Star Makers; Arch Angels that stood alongside Lucifer before the Celestial War. Like here, in this moment, as he lounged about in your chaise that he knew Mammon picked with how luxurious it looked.

It was in the subtle scent of sandalwood that reminded him of the scents the Star Makers had around them, the way Devildom's moon illuminated you and made you look inhuman and almost like the Arch Angel he couldn't remember. The one he knew that Mammon had sworn an oath and bond to before they all fell.

"I hate humans" He announces, faking his nonchalance as he observes your reaction.

You blinked and stared at him for a long while.

"I hate humans" He repeated.

"I see" You lied.

He scoffed at your incomprehension and said with great disdain, "Shouldn't you be afraid of what I can do to you?"

"Should I?" You said with a smile as if entertaining a child and he loathed it.

He got up and glared at you, "I'm an Avatar of Sin. Do you really think you stand a chance against me?"

The temperature dropped and yet you remained nonplussed as if he was nothing in your eyes and it made him angrier.

"And I'm the Magus of the Stars, Existing before Eden, Maker and Destroyer of Kings and Queens, I was in the Beginning and I will be in the End" You replied and in that tiniest moment you let him see what Asmo saw back then in the shaded alley of what used to be Gomorrah.

In the depths of your eyes, behind the layers of your soul, in its deepest and at the very core of it was the very first set of Stars made by God. The first 13 that was crafted before the Universe. The oldest ones that carried the essence of the Universe, made out of the very stars that adorned the sky and carried pieces of his Father's Godhead.

Belphie blinked and then it was gone.

"I don't remember you!" he said distressed at the fact that his memories were most likely tampered with.

"No Fallen would" You told him sadly as he collapsed on the chaise.

You got up and walked into the kitchen to get him a glass of water. In the mean time Belphie did his best to get his emotions under control and hugged his pillow tighter. You returned and handed him the glass of water which he accepted.

"You hate humans as much as you used to love them but neither I nor the humans are to be blamed for what happened" You replied, "God acted as a ruler instead of a Father, Lilith tried to stop the natural law of life."

"So you're defending that bastard!"

"I'm not. Dear brother, what I'm saying is that He could have been lenient, and that perhaps if Love had not made Lilith fear the worst pain...she would have been happy in the Celestial Realm."

Belphie's anger did not lessen but his face looked pained and it made that severed part in your heart, where you used to be able to Love anyone other than Mammon, ache.

"Had she not attempted to prolong that human's life...he would have been the first human soul to be granted ascension as an Angel...but the die had been cast and the future changed."

And that truth hurt more than anything. The possibility that he could still have Lilith alive and healthy in their life.

"Why?" He asked, to God, to you who carried a piece of the Father he used to love and now hated.

"Because love can change everything and nothing all at once" You answered simply, "Everything has its place, Lilith would eventually arrive on hers, just as you and your brothers are on your way to yours."

"Then she—?"

At this you smiled, "She is fine, it might take time and cause her much pain but Belphie she had made her choice long ago and she would live as humans would...experiencing the joy of meeting, the pains of parting, the bitter taste of heartbreak and the sweetness of love."

"How do you know all of this?"

You didn't answer and Belphie didn't push. Instead he asked another question, a personal one about you, "And where are you supposed to be?"

"I am already where I have always meant to be" You answered, "By Mammon's side."

Mammon knew something had happened between Belphie and you, when he arrived back at the House of Revelry.

"Master~!" He had called out to you sweetly as he decided to brighten up the atmosphere before he asked for money to spend in the human realm.

"Welcome back, Mammon" You laughed sweetly and Mammon felt his heart melt as he rubbed your faces together and peppered you with kisses.

Ultimately ignoring his youngest brother who was finally understanding why Levi looked pained whenever he had to deal with a Mammon that would come home after spending time with you. His second eldest brother acted in a very undemonic way.

And you let him.

'Disgusting' Belphie thought as he inched away from the PDA happening right before his eyes.

"Master, Diavolo has a job for me and Belphie~ We'll be gone for awhile so don't miss me too much!"

'Tch! Bold words coming from the demon that moped around for 60 years because he got sent back!'

"I'm sure you'd both return soon enough, the Great Mammon would after all finish up his job quickly wouldn't he?"

Had Belphie not known better, he would have thought his brother was redeemed with how bright he was.

"Oi! Hurry it up and let's leave!" He grumbled as he stomped his way out of the room and to the door way.

You laughed and decided to appease Mammon who seemed to be ready to start an argument, "Tell me where you're heading so I can give you the right currency. Solomon, that child, had just sent me the returns from my investments after all."

"You're the best~!" Mammon grinned, "It's London!"

You kissed him good bye as you handed him the stack of bills, enchanted to never be stolen from him. And watched him leave with Belphie in tow, his face red and smile wide.

The two had safely arrived in London, did as they were told quickly and decided to spend some time hanging around the market stalls and browsing shops. Mammon bought anything and everything that caught Belphie's eye and had it delivered to one of the properties he owned in your name.

Belphie basked at the doting and pampering from Mammon that barely changed even after the fall, his previous conversation with you was sent to the back of his mind as Mammon led him here and there at the same time doing minor corruptions. Belphie smiled as he followed behind his brother.

They had lunch on a quaint cafe and talked about everything and nothing. Enjoying the rare sunny day in London and the passable food. Mammon had left a large tip after and the two walked along the River Thames. Mammon knew that whatever foul mood that befell his youngest brother was gone, so he hummed a tune, one Belphie recognized as the one you would occasionally play for Mammon at the music room.

They were hanging out together after completing the job of corrupting human lives when Belphegor had asked him out of nowhere,"When are you going to tell Lucifer you're married?"

And then he tripped into the ground.

He quickly got up and ignored the staring crowd and spluttered, "Wha-what are you talking about! What I have with her is a pure relationship!"

"You know what she likes and dislike, you leave your clothes at her house, you buy her favorite flowers whenever you pass by the flower shop, you bring her chocolates, cook her favorite food," Belphie began listing as he continued walking and Mammon followed, "You buy her the newest jewelries and fashion, pick her clothes, put the best parts of the meal on her plate and you practically already live with her on most days."

They arrived at the summoning circle and upon returning was greeted by you who wore, a winter season Victorian dress Mammon had gifted you a while back paired with the heels he had picked and bought for you, with matching accessories.

Belphie looked at him and scoffed, "Not married my ass."

Mammon's face was bright red.

+ 1.

It had been a long time since you last went up to human world and found delight in the uneasy look Solomon had as you regaled the other human exchange student with the childhood stories of the Wise King as a former student of yours.

"He was quite the precocious brat back then~! None of my other children gave me as much trouble as he did you know?" You honestly said.

"Other children?"

"Oh yes! Mammon and I used to take care of orphans back then when the world wars were at full swing! But right now we only have one child though..." you sighed, "our daughter needs all of our attention since she's sickly but she's gotten better this past few years! Mammon used to be worried sick about her and I'd end up having to take care of two children~!"

The human exchanged student blinked and said, "Wow! So you and Mammon have been married for that long huh!"

At this you blushed and Solomon choked on his drink, you reprimanded him as you wiped his face with a tissue paper.

"I-I'm not a child anymore you know!" He protested even as he let his face be wiped.

The other human exchanged studen laughed at his predicament and Solomon felt his face heat up, "I'm the Wise King Solomon...you know that right?"

"And I used to patch up your scrapes and give you punishment for being a naughty child! Even Jesus wasn't as naughty as you were!" You retorted and then turned to the other human exchange student, "But yes, My husband Mammon and I had been married for long time now...though there was of course a rough patch in our relationship but in the end it all worked out fine."

"Do you think...I could..." The human hesitated and let the words hang in the air.

You smiled at her and held her hands that was on the table and said, "Like all things from the Beginning, to be able to gain pragma you must ultimately make a choice" you looked at Solomon who smiled a slight smile and stared at the rings on his fingers, "whether or not to walk away or carry on, human life is short make the choice that would make you happy and if you regret learn from it and make a different choice."

At this the human smiled at you and thanked you just as Mammon returned with the tray of drinks and food while Asmo carried your daughter, Alya, on his arms.

Mammon placed your food in front of you, while Solomon helped out as Asmo settled Alya on the high chair. While Mammon inserted the straw through the lid of your iced tea, you carefully removed the pickles on his burger knowing that he always forgot to have it removed.

And once that was done, both you and Mammon turned your attentions to Alya and seamlessly ensured her food had nothing she was allergic to. You looked at Mammon and smiled as the sun shined on him and you remembered the days you had shared together in Heaven.

#obey me mammon x reader #obey me mammon x mc #obey me mammon #obey me lucifer #obey me solomon #obey me asmodeus #obey me satan #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me leviathan #hit the max limit of a post for this one #5 + 1 fic #will make a longer version of this once I'm done with my first series #mammon x reader #mammon x mc #mobile upload #obey me

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ofdragonsdeep · 3 years ago

Text

29: Debonair

Count Artoirel de Fortemps attends a ball for the Members of Parliament.

(ArtoirelxHilda? Sort of?)

The sound of the orchestra echoing out in the high-roofed walls of the Vault promised the trappings of high society to those within. Count Artoirel de Fortemps was no stranger to such functions, wending his way through the crowd with practised ease, but the surroundings sought to subvert the expectation of any passing noble, or indeed anyone who remained familiar with Ishgard, reimagined in the image that her saviours had planned for her.

Commonfolk in their best dress rubbed shoulders with nobility here, a formal gathering held for each and every member of the Republic’s new council. Artoirel had endeavoured to learn the names of each and every person sent as speakers for the House of Commons after the parliament’s formation, but even his memory was taxed to recall the names of their spouses and friends and other miscellaneous plus-one’s. In the same breath, the House of Lords was far expanded from the days of decisions made solely by the church and the four High Houses, though his upbringing had at least given him a head-start on remembering those names.

A buffet had been provided that had likely cost more than many of the commonfolk earned in a year, and champagne was being passed around among the merrymakers. It was not, Artoirel had noted, the best champagne, but perhaps that was the point. Besides, it made no difference to him, as he had made an art of refusing every canapé pressed beneath his nose, a cautious part of him still remembering the events of Falcon’s Nest, the reports he had heard of attempted sabotage on ceremonial functions, and his own persisting dislike of being intoxicated in public.

“Reckon you’ve turned down enough food to feed an orphanage, your Lordship. There better grub somewhere I should know about?”

Artoirel jumped at the noise, spinning on the spot to find Hilda - captain of the Watch, who were the de facto guard for this function - stood just a little bit too close.

“Sadly not, Lady Hilda. I simply neglected to prepare.” He took a step backwards, just slightly, and straightened the collar on his shirt. “I trust that the evidence of your keen eyes will stay between us?” Hilda laughed at that, folding her arms and regarding him with an appraising look. He appeared to come up short.

“Lady Hilda. Don’t get that one much,” she said. “How’s about this then? I won’t mention your disdain for Ser Aymeric’s fancy sausage creations, but you have to dance with me.”

“I beg your pardon?” Artoirel said, taken aback. Hilda winked at him, the smile fitting easily on her face.

“All that book learnin’ and here we are. You. Me. One dance.” She held up a single finger. “That’s the thing where you lead your partner round in circles, in case that was what was holdin’ you up.” Artoirel made an empty noise, then collected himself, clearing his throat as if it would save him face.

“Yes, I am aware of what a dance is, Captain,” he said, exercising incredible restraint to keep the ice from creeping into his voice. “I am simply at a loss as to why.” The single finger was pressed against her lips, inviting him to take part in her secrecy, as if he had any choice when he was not aware of the secret.

“That’s for me to know and you to wonder, your Lordship,” she replied. The gesture became a two-finger salute, and she turned on her heels and disappeared back into the crowd. Artoirel could only hope that she had retreated to actually do her job.

—

Though the guests were unusual, the itinerary was not. Entreés were followed by a time to mingle and exchange the latest gossip, and Artoirel’s feet took him around the room with all the emotion of one of Stephanivien’s strange robotic creations. Though he had despaired of his little brother in the past, he could not deny that Emmanellain’s head was far more suited for such endeavours than his, but he was a master at polite conversation nonetheless. The atmosphere was far more cordial than any such event would have been before the end of the war - there was less power to squabble over, more people who held it, and so less to gain by knowing a few choice and guilty secrets. Artoirel spoke with Aymeric and Lucia, shared their worries on the war which yet fomented at the front at Ghimlyt, all three of them hoping nothing untoward would occur in their absence. He listened to news of the progress on restoring the Firmament from Aurvael, attending with his father the Count. The Dzemaels ignored him, as they always did, but Count Charlemend and his young nephew at least engaged him in pleasantries.

The commonfolk had far more to say, if you knew who to ask. The view of the ongoing reconstruction of which Aurvael was so proud was well-received among the people, despite certain members of the nobility dismissing it as seeking glory from the worthless. Lord Francel had a good heart, and those who he was helping saw it, it seemed.

And the news. There was much of it, and the fine details a little different for each mouth it came from, but Artoirel listened and attempted to filter the nuggets of truth from the sheer volume of it. If only Emmanellain had not been busy with his duties at Dragonhead - though he could not help but be grateful that his brother was applying himself for once, he found himself at quite the disadvantage.

And then, as Artoirel had dreaded, the music changed.

Artoirel was a good dancer. He had been taught from a very early age precisely how one was to dance at a ball, the correct amount of attention to pay one’s partner to not suggest too much but not offend with inattention. The eyes will judge you on every line of your form, his mother had said, and he had taken it to heart, as he had many of her lessons, not all of them in his best interests.

Hilda caught his eye from across the room, and offered him a cheeky little bow. Artoirel let out a long breath, and crossed the room to join her.

“Might I have the pleasure of this dance, Captain?” he asked, holding out his hand precisely as he had been taught. There were whispers immediately, of course, although rather more of them were jealous than he had been anticipating.

“You’re flatterin’ me, your lordship,” she said, playing coy as he had expected her to. “I suppose it would be rude to refuse.” Artoirel mentally went through the motions of gritting his teeth, in order to remain outwardly poised.

Hilda was not dressed to dance the same way the other ladies who had taken the floor were. She had no dress to float with each step, but sturdy trousers and solid leather thighboots that clacked upon the dancefloor with a noise that was, at least, quite satisfying. Her fingers were not smooth, but calloused from holding a gun and holding the line against the ever-rising tide of pushback against their nation’s struggle for equality. Her nails were not painted, but filed down to not catch in the trigger. She carried herself with the confidence and expectations of nobility, the pointed tips of her hyuran ears the damning reminder of why she was not.

She could, however, dance.

“See, your Lordship? This ain’t so bad,” she said, sounding amused by his predicament more than anything else.

“Only one of us will be quashing foolish notions in the aftermath,” he replied, to which Hilda laughed. They separated, turned - Artoirel did not raise his arm as high as he was used to, when dancing with an elezen, and Hilda performed the top spin with remarkable grace. The dexterity that gave her the eagle eye and uncanny trigger finger she was famed for were putting in their work here, though he could not help but wonder who, precisely, had taught her.

“Don’t you think it would be more interestin’ to give them somethin’ more to talk about?” she offered. Artoirel did not stop dead on the strength of reflex alone, but the hells-damned woman had felt the way he stiffened regardless, and it seemed only to egg her on.

“It would be unbecoming,” he managed, and Hilda tutted.

“You need to learn to relax,” she disagreed.

They turned again, Artoirel holding his arm out just so, her gloved hand in his. He could not tell if she was fooling with him and - to his rapidly growing embarrassment - could not tell if he wanted her to be or not.

If his mother had been alive, she would have fainted at the notion of her eldest carrying on some scandalous affair with a commoner, and a half-blood at that. But she had been wrong about Haurchefant - he had loved him as a brother, or tried to, in the gulf between the two of them. There was no need for distinction between high and low-born now, and besides - did her ruby-red eyes not speak of a noble heritage that she had quite rightly cast aside as worthless?

She had asked first, he supposed.

“Perhaps we shall discuss this further when this event has concluded,” he allowed, and Hilda raised an eyebrow. She was surprised, but not displeased, and Artoirel wondered what that said for his character.

“Perhaps we shall, Lord Artoirel,” she said. “Damn, I owe Stephanivien ten gil now.”

Artoirel thought he should not have been surprised.

#huffs angrily at not knowing his mother's name #ffxivwrite2021 #posts at 6am and rockets off to bed without proofreading #Artoirel de Fortemps #Hilda the Mongrel

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