#it’s the anger and venom of someone who has been holding back out of restraint and politeness

[satancopilotsmytardis]

Now you've got me thinking of vampire!Shig/Dabi. How Dabi cries blood and how Shig likes seeing him cry (for sexy fun reasons, obviously) 👀🫢 ooohhh, Tanco, you've given me a brain worm!!

Pairing: Shigadabi

Contents: BDSM, Dacryphilia, Vamipre!Shigaraki, Restraints, Anal Sex, Sex Toys, Overstimulation, Blood Play, Multiple Orgasms, Possessiveness, Orgasm Denial/Delay

He does not bite the people he fucks. 

It's a common feeding tactic. Vampire venom is great for stripping back inhibitions, it makes the food source feel euphoric, a high enough dose can make them black out, and if they survive, it leaves them feeling essentially hung over. Lots of his kind like to cruse bars for people who are already a little drunk, using the intoxication to their advantage, as if they need any more. He doesn't eat the people he fucks. It's not some moral high ground. Taking blood without consent is still probably less bad than killing someone outright which is his usual method of feeding. And the thing is, there are plenty of people who want to be 'sucked and fucked' as it's been called in crasser circles. 

But with his quirk and his vampirism, both serving to make him so dangerous, Tomura doesn't fuck anyone who is high, drunk, or pumped full of his venom. It's just too dangerous. Could bite his partners after they're finished, but he never does. Puts him off his appetite once their bodies are ripe with the smell of cooling sweat, cum, and tears, when their blood is cooling so apparently inside of their veins. He's never even been tempted. 

And then he started fucking Dabi.

The first time they had ended up in bed together, it wasn't actually a bed. Had been arguing about a job, Dabi always feeling very secure in arguing with him because even though Tomura is fast, he's also extremely flammable. Dabi was always sure he could kill him if it came down to it, and he wore that surety in the form of arrogance and insubordination. So they had been fighting, and he had gotten into the arsonist's face, had moved with his unnatural speed to snarl at him, fangs bared because that was just how riled Dabi can make him. And instead of smelling smug, or afraid, or angry, he had smelled aroused, and the next thing he knew he had the other man on top of the table, Dabi's hands tangled into his hair and pulling him into a rough kiss. Had fucked him hard and absolutely ruined the blueprints they'd been arguing over in the first place. And he had nearly sunk his teeth into Dabi's throat while he was buried to the hilt in his too-hot, too-perfect body. 

Restrained himself the first time, and the second time, and the third time, when Dabi had actually let him take him to bed instead of whatever vaguely private improvised surface they could find, he'd mumbled, while he was still laying boneless and fucked out in his bed, "Fine with you biting me, Duster." 

And he'd grit his teeth and done his best to keep hold of his already fraying control. "I don't bite people I sleep with." 

"Really? Every other Fang I've slept with asked, or didn't and got ashed, but whatever." Tomura isn't sure what to do with the anger that kindles in his chest. A possessive, instinctive rage that his arsonist has ever felt the sting of someone else's fangs. Really not helping with the desire to bite him, to give him a drop of his blood in turn so that no other vampire will come near him without knowing he's off-limits. 

"I don't." Had been all he'd managed before Dabi dropped the topic with a shrug. 

But that doesn't mean that every time he has the arsonist in bed he's not half distracted trying to keep his fangs to himself. It's probably a good thing that Dabi's neck and wrists are so heavily scarred because if he had to watch the way his pulse raced along with the heady smell of his blood in his nose and the loud frantic beating of his heart, Tomura would have lost it a long time ago. Feels his control slipping whenever he has Dabi in his bed, so he proposes a change to their relationship. Switched from being his boss who he hatefucks sometimes, into being his Dom. Introduced more rules into their bedroom play and thought that would help him keep his head on straight. Would make him curb his hunger. But every time he's with Dabi it just seems to grow. 

"Tomura," Dabi's voice always gets so breathless and whiny when he has the other man like this, the attitude melting away the second he takes complete control of his sub. That alone could get him drunk on the other man's presence. 

"How many times did you talk back to me during the meeting?" A meeting observed by his teacher at that. Is supposed to be proving himself as a worthy successor, and Dabi had put that in jeopardy. More than earned a punishment and knew that he would get one, but kept it up anyway. Been so bratty since they started planning this job. Thinks that means his firefly is nervous. Doesn't blame him for that, not really, not when the last time the League had gone up against UA they'd lost nearly everyone they brought in for the job. But Dabi is more insane than him if he doesn't think that he'll tear down everything in his way to-- the obsessive thoughts come unbidden and unwanted. He pushes them aside. Clicks the bullet one setting higher to hear Dabi keen and see him arch against his bonds. The point is Dabi knew he was misbehaving when he did it. Had still readily come to his room. Which means he knew he would be in for a punishment when he did. 

"Please, sir," The words tremble, but not nearly as badly as Dabi is. Stripped and bound on his bed, legs held wide with a spreader between them, and his cock hard and flushed, silicone cock ring keeping him that way as Tomura runs the bullet vibrator along his length. Between his piercings, just underneath his head, presses it to his slit and watches one desperate drop of pre manage to slip out and bead there. 

"Four." He answers for him. "Four times, brat. So that's how many times I'm going to fuck you before you get to cum." He doesn't think that's possible. Thinks Dabi will pass out or his erection will go from pleasurable to dangerous if he actually makes the human hold out for that long against his supernatural stamina, but Dabi has a safeword for when he needs human concessions in their play. He'll last two, probably, and then Tomura will save the next two for the next time he has the arsonist in bed. Then again, brings the vibrator back down along his piercings as the fingers opening up his needy boy press and rub against his prostate. Dabi strains against his bonds, a dry sob choked out of his throat as he moans. Fuck, he looks pretty when he's desperate. He supposes if Dabi begs after one then he'll possibly get to torture him three times, maybe four if he's feeling particularly mean. 

He's definitely feeling mean when he pulls his fingers out and replaces them with his cock. His firefly doesn't love anything as much as he loves being stuffed full, and Tomura loves the way his body is so much hotter around him than anyone else has ever been. loves the way his tight walls always cling so greedily to him. Dabi's smoking after just a few thrusts which means all his efforts to work him up are certainly paying off. Brings everything even higher for him as he makes sure to angle his cock to hit his prostate and brings the toy back to his ladder. The metal piercing the skin there has already made him so sensitive, the added sensation has him clenching like a vice around his cock, and his back arching off of the bed. It will be a miracle if he manages not to safeword before Tomura's even reached his first orgasm at this rate. 

"You're not going to make it to four, are you, baby? Too needy. I'm going to have to carry over your punishment then." Definitely the possessive thing in him that says, "I should lock your cock up so that you can't touch yourself until you've finished being punished. Make you wear it all the time. I wonder if it would be visible through those tight pants, probably would be. That would mean everyone would know that you're mine." Shit, knows those words were made too much of his instincts, pivots, "That you misbehaved and now you don't get to play with your needy cock until I say so." 

"Tomura, Tomura, Tomura--" gasping on every thrust. He can hear every hitch in his breathing, the rapid beating of his heart, can smell his sweat, and arousal, and blood. He is getting lost in Dabi, because he always gets lost in him when they fuck. His own arousal is at odds with his hunger, as both slowly build. He should have drained a blood bag before snaring the arsonist, because his thirst is getting to him. Is making it smell like Dabi is about to bleed, but he's being careful. Keeping his strength at bay. No reason for Dabi to be bleeding--

It would have been hard to control himself at the first broken sob out of Dabi's throat if it were tears running over his cheeks. It is impossible to do when Dabi breaks and there is blood pouring from his eyes instead. Can't even focus long enough to wonder if that's bad. Because humans don't typically cry blood unless there's something very, very wrong, because his hunger absolutely overwhelms him. His human, already so pretty, even prettier with tears on his cheeks, and those are blood. Can indulge in him without infecting him with his venom. 

He might lose his mind a bit. Leans down and drags his tongue over Dabi's cheek, and they both moan loudly. Dabi's blood is a contradiction. It's hot against his tongue but it tastes like snow, and ash, and molten metal. It's rich with the flavor of his desperation, his pleasure, and he immediately knows he shouldn't have had one taste, because he wants so much more. He wants to sink his teeth into his throat and drink so deeply that Dabi will have to take a pull off his veins to survive, so he will be smelling like him for weeks. Barely notices how hard he's fucking the other man, how he's been holding the bullet against his ladder, is too busy indulging in everything he shouldn't have. Just wants to get more bloody tears slipping over his cheeks. 

"Ah, ah, ah-- Tomura, I-- I can't," he sobs fresh and he immediately licks away the fresh drops of blood. "Tomura, gray, please, please--"

He barely pays attention, reaching down to undo his ring. Only takes another few thrusts before Dabi's cum is splashing hotly against their skin. Tomura doesn't stop. Fucks him straight through the overstimulation so that Dabi is sobbing constantly, even when he does eventually manage to get hard again. To stripe their stomachs with a little more cum. Is planning on taking him through to a third, will keep going so long as those delicious, pretty tears keep falling, but his firefly is shaking his head, his voice shaking too,

"Yellow, please, Tomura, please," means he wants him to slow down. Wants him to finish, will hold out for that, but otherwise wants to be close to stopping. Too bad. Something treacherous in him knows if he just gives him a nip, maybe against his swollen lips, that his venom will take away his reluctance. Will make him pliant and eager, will make him push his body far further than would be comfortable. That a drop of his venom will make Dabi's body last until he decides he's done with him. But even through the haze of his arousal and blood, Tomura knows better. Focuses on his thrusts, easing off of his prostate, putting the bullet aside, and with the heavy satisfaction of fresh blood in his stomach, the feeling of Dabi's spent body still trembling and clenching tight around him, and the sight of him, strung-out, bloody smears on his cheeks, and pretty blue eyes so hazy, it doesn't take long for him to finish. Orgasming has always been better since he turned, but he's never finished immediately after feeding, and the blood makes everything so much better. Makes the pleasure feel like it sinks so much deeper, like it might have restarted his heart for a split second as warmth that is no longer his surges through his body. Focuses beyond the wonderful sensations tingling across his nerves to listen for Dabi's little gut-punched sound he always makes whenever he fills him up with his cum, like no matter how many times they do this, it's still a surprise that his release is as cool as the rest of his body.

It takes them both a while to come down from everything, and when Tomura pulls out, he delights in watching how Dabi trembles and shivers as his cum leaks out of his flushed, puffy hole. Dabi stays slumped against the mattress as Tomura takes in the handprints that are bruised around his hips, the pricks of where his nails sunk in, and he feels a pang of remorse. He's normally so good about controlling his strength, but clearly he'd slipped while he was in the haze of his lust-- both types of it. If they're already nearly the same color as Dabi's scars then they're going to be especially painful when his firefly comes all the way down from his high. Tomura dips his head down to press a kiss against one of the marks and Dabi hisses softly. 

"Sorry, I'll go get you an icepack." 

Dabi makes a non-committal sound, tangles a hand in his hair instead and tugs lightly. Couldn't move him if he wanted, but he indulges the human, shifting back up his body to give him a kiss, the other man's blood still behind his teeth. "Can't you just give me a little of yours?" 

The wave of possessive heat that goes through him makes his fangs drop before he can stop it, and Dabi lets out a breathless laugh. Always delights in making him lose control even the smallest bit. "Dabi," 

"Come on, not like I'm fucking any other fangs right now," the thought has a snarl building in his chest. "Besides you got a taste, you're all about reciprocity." 

"...Are you sure?"

"Come on Duster, make me yours," there's a teasing little lilt in his voice. Like he doesn't believe or understand just how badly Tomura wants that. "Besides, I have more punishments. Won't this help me keep up?" 

He doesn't even care about that at the moment, too lost in the thought of having his claim inside of Dabi's skin. "Alright," And Dabi actually looks surprised, but his smell is delighted and a little smug. Tomura sinks his fangs into his lip before pressing back in for another kiss, letting the taste of their blood mingle on their tongues. 

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[arkhavens]

Some SWTOR blorboisms i realized just now I'd never shared.

So, all of my OCs experience/perceive the world differently, and I like to reflect that in their mannerisms/internal voice/the metaphors they use/etc.

Early in his life, Athan(my dear Wrath) tended more towards a lot of internal tangents. He, as the repressed second child of a sprawling influential Pureblood family, has Opinions™️.

"...It's petty, a waste of energy he certainly needs to conserve if he's to be cognizant in a few hours, and entirely unbecoming for the heir of a pureblooded house, but damn them all straight to hell. He's earned some private bitching for having to put up with this."

"...It's almost cathartic enough to imagine strangling Vemrin with his bare hands until the man's eyes pop as he slinks through the academy's halls. The raw anger digging its teeth into his restraint like an overeager tuk'ata pup presented with a fresh bone simply festers rather than boiling over. He's definitely holding it together. He so is. It wouldn't do to snap and kill someone in broad daylight..."

these are the shortest examples I could find from there that get it across, lol. He yaps for 700ish words, and 90% of it is whiny rich boy complaining.

Athan was more...concrete, I suppose is the way to put it. Everything deserves a relational tanget, and I tried to stay away from the flowery language I usually pepper through my writing.

Orion(My Darth Nox) on the other hand...he's a doozy, lol. His internal monologue tends more towards sensory descriptions, a shitload of alliteration, rambling asides, and mildly feral undertones. For him, something I wanted to experiment with was "How does someone who's always neck-deep in the Force experience the world? How do they perceive the Force and how does that color their thoughts?" and all of the ghost bullshit. His head is very crowded, constantly buzzing and working away, so I decided that his "peripheral" perception of the Force would be like. Almost a kind of sensory-taste synesthesia? I dont know if that's the right description, but I cant find a different way lol. The way he senses things translates to different tastes or feelings. Happiness or affection reads as citrus and warmth, like lemonade on a hot summer's day. Anger is like a mouthful of black pepper. that sort of thing. i can elaborate elsewhere if yallre curious.

Writing from his POV is very fun but...difficult. Though I have not posted this, these scraps of a third chapter to Just We Two show a lot of it off.(yes its almost been a year to date since the last chapter shush. college has been kicking my ass for two semesters straight)

...Filthy phantom fingers flit down his spine, tugging and teasing at the tattered edges of his attention. Muttering and murmuring just below the range of his hearing, trying to drive him to distraction.

Shadows coil in the artefact before him, seeping out of hand-hewn stone like oil from a well, ink-black and endless. Runes in a language familiar-unfamiliar—understood only by spite and spirits, venomous whispers rattling around his skull—slash through the tablet's face. A rough harried hand, poisonous wrath bubbling-biting at their bones, clawing curses into a slate...

...Machinery whirrs, footsteps heavy against metal—someone encroaching on his space. Tablet discarded, he whirls around, energy sparking eager and unused beneath his skin to be met with—

Warmth.

That ever-same sunbright presence brushes against his mind as he blinks away hyperfocus, every ounce of him softening. Warrior-beloved-solace-shield—

"Athan." The name slips from his tongue like a benediction, citrus blooming over the back of his tongue, project entirely forgotten...

BUT THEN, for the first chapter of Just We Two, Athan, having been force-bonded to Orion for like. four years, has picked up on Orion's sensory stuff, and relaxed the tight-held *I'm the heir I have to be perfect* shtick. Which is where you get something like...

...All too used to Orion's fits of exaggerated temper—with no spicy-acrid anger bubbling white-hot down their bond, instead only the sand-silt of reluctance and faint heat of irritation brushing insistently against his mind—he just cups his face, lightly dragging his thumb beneath Orion's eye...

idk where im going with this, i just love them and think its neat.

[the-sympathetic-villain]

You Belong With Me - Chapter 34

AO3 | First | Previous | Next | Masterpost  

Description:   Much to his surprise, after being released from prison for a crime he didn’t commit, Logan has been appointed as a the prince’s new advisor.  

Word Count: 6972

Chapter Warnings contain major spoilers so they’re at the end of the post, but please scroll down to check them if you need to! This chapter gets a bit heavy <3

-

    Logan inhaled slowly as he cast one last glance down the empty corridor behind him. He could feel Dee's impatience growing behind him as he took another step towards the fae's cell. Still, he felt himself pause, subconsciously doubting his choices as he turned to to face the wall outside Dee's cell. A dim, amber light fell from the small sconce burning on the wall to his left. He quickly reached up to the thin torch, wrapping his fingers around the wooden base. With a light shove, he dislodged the lit torch from its holder and turned to step through into the grey light of Dee's cell.

    He slowed, holding the torch out in front of him as he ducked through the doorway. He turned his body, edging carefully along the back wall, scanning the cell in front of him to catch sight of Dee's shadowy figure. The hairs on the back of his neck started to raise as continued to search the dim cell for the hostile fae. He barely kept the fear that his enemy had escaped at bay with the knowledge he’d heard the man's voice only a moment before. Logan could feel his energy. He had to be here.

    Finally, his heart jumped in his chest he caught the subtle glimmer of his torchlight reflecting in Dee's eyes at the back of the cell. Logan straightened upright with a questioning glance. Dee’s restraints appeared to be pulled taut and Logan could only guess the fae was as far back into the cell as the chains would allow. Logan continued to hold the torch out in front of him, crouching defensively as he quickly glanced up and down at the thin silhouette standing in the dark abyss of the back of the room.

     “Well, well,” Dee's dry laugh sent chills down Logan’s neck. “I almost didn’t think you had enough of a spine to ditch the prince's lap dog—”

    “Don't.” Logan gritted his teeth as he cut off Dee's attempt to get under his skin. He kept he gaze trained carefully on the billowing figure as he reached upward to place the torch in his hand into the empty sconce across from Dee's cell. The thin torch barely illuminated a small radius in front of him, barely keeping the shadows close to him at bay. “I'm not here to talk about Virgil. Refrain from insulting my friend or I’ll—”

    “Or you'll what?” Dee's wry grin stood out starkly against the shadows around him as glared threateningly at Logan. “Leave? If you had a shred of common sense, you wouldn’t be here in the first place.” Dee scoffed as Logan's expression soured. “Unfortunately for you, you’re the one here who wants something. So, I think you'll find I can speak about your friends anyway I damn please.”

    Logan stood against the far wall, rigid with irritation at the truth of Dee’s statement. He clenched his jaw as his eyes shot daggers across the room at the faint silhouette of Dee leaning against the wall at the back of the cell in front of him.

    “That’s what I thought. You’re as weak as I expected.” Dee sneered. A slight hiss escaped his lips as he struggled to contain the disdain in his voice. “I may be the prisoner, but you’ll never hold power with me. You’re merely a pawn in the bigger game I'm playing.”

    Logan paused, blinking in surprise. His careful, guarded expression faltered briefly as the air wavered with an emotion he didn’t recognize. He parted his lips slightly, subtly tasting the unfamiliar feeling in the air. He stared into the dark blankly for a moment, trying to parse out some meaning to Dee's quickly shifting emotions before bitterly swallowing back the urge to comment  and moving on.

    “Well, clearly you wanted me here, Dee. The pawn moved where you expected, and now it's your move.” Logan pulled his shoulders back, not allowing his emotions to breach his carefully neutral expression. “So, are you actually able to tell me what happened to my parents or was this merely a ruse to get me alone?”

    The silence hanging in air between them would have been deafening if Logan's heart wasn't pounding in his chest as he waited for Dee’s answer. He stared rebelliously into the subtle reflection of light in Dee’s unblinking eyes for what felt like an eternity, willing himself not to show that even without access to his power, Dee’s cold gaze sent a chill down his arms. Eventually, he couldn’t help but take a step back. His arm brushed the surface of the wall behind him and he jumped, almost missing the words that left Dee’s lips in that moment.

    “You really don’t know anything. Do you?”

     Logan paused, slowly glancing up in the cell as he processed Dee’s words. “What?”

    “You don’t have parents.” Dee stated dryly. “You had Tara. “

    The light Dee’s eyes flickered as he blinked and Logan tensed as he waited for Dee’s to continue.

    “Actually, come to think of it. Tara wouldn’t have been able to resist my invitation either." Dee mused quietly. "It was easy to tempt her with knowledge. I would have pitied the fool who dared stand in her way of what she wanted to know.”

   Logan’s breath caught in his throat as the name seemed to resonate with familiarity in his mind. “T-Tara?”

    “That was your—” Dee snarled with disgust. “—your mother's name. Her full name was Taranis of the Southern Sky, but she went by Tara.”

    “Taranis of the Southern Sky?” Logan spoke slowly tasting unfamiliar words as his mind race. He almost found himself stepping forward in curiosity, but immediately halted, remembering whom he was speaking. With a twitch of a frown, he glared across the line of the cell bars. “Like the planet?”

     Dee’s scoffed at Logan’s timid question, and amusement radiated out of the cell. “Yes. Though in the interest of being entirely accurate, the planet was named after her, not the other way around.”

    Logan narrowed his eyes into the dark, taken aback by the sudden lack of malice in Dee’s voice. “What do you mean?”

    “Humans are nothing but parasites on this land.” Dee drew out his words thoughtfully. “They’re disgustingly cruel, but even I will admit their tendency to connect two completely separate ideas by a mere thread is endlessly amusing.”

    Logan stood motionless, listening to Dee as he reflected nostalgically. He held his breath not wanting to draw Dee out of his seemingly peaceful state by reminding him of who he was speaking to.

    “The planet you’re referring to glows a brilliantly bright blue, just like Tara's lightning.” Dee mused quietly.  “That's all the connection humans needed to connect her power to the celestial body in the southern sky. She even added it to her own name in appreciation of the connection.”

     Logan stared into the darkness, nearly paralyzed in disbelief at what could only be sadness in Dee’s voice. “I-I thought—” Logan paused, staring nervously as Dee's eyes turned up to him. “—I ‘ve read extensively about the mythology associated with Taranis. Everything I’ve read implied that it had been named after a god of thunder.”

     Dee was silent for long time and Logan couldn’t help but jump when he finally let out a deep sigh. “One of humans’ less endearing tendencies is their absolute inability to recognize the value of all of their own members. Some of them may even be tolerable if their leadership wasn’t worthless.”

    Logan was quiet as Dee’s eyes flickered dangerously in the dark.

    “She was a goddess in her own right, though thunder was far from her only claim to power. Humans have oh-so-kindly altered her myth to fit their own narrow view because they’re threatened by someone perceived as feminine having power.” Dee muttered bitterly. “Such petty cowards.”

    “Was?” Logan struggled to keep his voice steady as he stared into the shadows at Dee. Dee started to move, pacing the back of the cell, but Logan forced himself to continue to speak. “You keep using the past tense to refer to her.”

    “Well, I’m shocked.” Dee hummed condescendingly. “Maybe you’re not as much of an idiot as you look.”

    Logan subconsciously took a step back into the wall at the venom that dripped from Dee's words, jumping as his back struck the wall behind him. He gulped, feeling the air shift back to the familiar aura of Dee’s hostility.

    “You heard me correctly, Logan,” Dee’s eyes flickered in the torchlight as he snarled at Logan. “because that traitorous leech condemned her entire race to suffer and then left her only kin to pay her debt.”

    Logan’s heart dropped as Dee stepped forward. His eyes glowed gold as he stared threateningly at Logan as he stuttered out a response. “W-what?”

    “I don't have time to repeat myself, so get this through that thick skull of yours. She bolted. Well over a century ago, she took whatever reward the human king offered her, and fled the country, leaving you to the mercy of the human king. It's really no wonder you grew up to be the prince’s loyal pet.” Dee growled. Logan felt chills creep his neck as Dee’s anger turned to a smug satisfaction. “Not all is lost though. Fortunately for the Fair Folk, in her absence, the debt she owes passes to her next of kin and at the very least, she left us that.”

    “D-debt?” Logan trembled. Even standing in the heat of the flames of the sconce above him, he felt his blood run cold.

    “Surely, your dear prince told you what your mother did,” Dee replied in a disinterested tone. “though clearly he didn’t see fit enough to tell you who you were. I don't imagine you’d be here if he'd simply had the guts to tell you the truth.”

    “What are you��” Logan muttered defensive, feeling his hands start to shake.

    “Tara’s lightning is unmistakable.  There's no way our dear prince didn't know exactly who he was speaking to.” Dee continued unempathetically, barely deigning to look at Logan as he started to crumble.

    Blue lightning.

    Dee's words trailed off as a loud ringing filled Logan’s ears. He slumped clumsily back into the wall behind him. Roman had reacted to his power and the air had flooded with regret.

     He knew.

      Roman knew.

     Logan swallowed, almost choking on the lump in his throat as he slid down the wall. His muscles strained painfully as he became rigid, forcing down a vocal reaction to Dee's words. He squeezed out a few weak words, desperately needing confirmation of his thoughts.

    “She was the Elder Fae.”

    “Finally,” Dee growled impatiently. “Maybe there is a brain cell rattling around in that empty head of yours.”

    “How—” Logan nearly retched as his stomach twisted and he curled closer to the ground. “That was a century ago. How is that—"

     “Stop babbling.” Dee snapped. “Fae live for centuries. We simply age how we choose.”

    "But that can't—" Logan choked on his words as he clenched his hands into fists. “I don't remember anything. I grew up normal—”

    “Please,” Dee sneered. “I definitely don’t have anything better to do than refresh your memory.”

    Logan shivered, barely functioning as he curled his knees to his chest. One thought seemed to keep resurfacing in his mind as grief racked his body.

     Roman knew.

     “Fine. You worthless—” Dee growled derisively, cutting himself off. His eyes narrowed on Logan as he hissed out his words. “She left you in the hands of her master, the human king. We only assumed she took you with her when she fled the country, but it seems she lost no more love leaving you than the rest of us. You were held by the royal family for two generations before we even realized they still had you."

      Logan tilted his head up slowly. Dee’s silhouette stood out slightly against the wisp of moonlight from the narrow window behind him.

    “We knew only Tara's magic could end the curse, so once we realized there was a solution to the Fair Folk's suffering, we set out to take you back. Unfortunately, our mission was ill-fated from the start and before we ever reached you, you disappeared. I personally mesmerized and interrogated every knight and guard in the castle. I even got my hands on that foolish king, but you were gone without a trace.” Dee paused, tone dropping as he grew deadly serious. “So, congratulations. You got two more decades of freedom out of disappearing, but it's time to pay up.”

   “It's all my fault—” Logan dropped his gaze to the ground bitterly, feeling numb to the tremble in his limbs. “An entire generation gone—for me.”

    Dee was silent for a solid minute as he stared at Logan curled against the wall. His gaze drifted up to the torch above Logan, pondering curiously. “I must admit I didn't expect you to take the blame so easily.”

    Logan sucked in a breath as his stomach clenched. “They killed her.”

    Dee blinked in shock. “What?"

    “She died—” Logan dug his nails into his arms at the realization. “She died protecting me.”

    “No—That’s not possible.” Dee whispered and Logan looked up, barely catching sight of the fae's eyes before they disappeared into the dark.

    “The spell—or curse—” Logan whispered quietly. “Whatever term you prefer to use for the enchantment they forced her to cast.” Logan swallowed, casting his eyes to the ground. “R-Roman said that was the last request the king asked of her and it was too much for her to handle.”

    “That’s a lie.” Dee hissed threateningly. “Tara was nothing short of a god. She knew her limit. She would have backed out, if she thought it would kill her. They couldn’t force her hand—”

    “They had me.” Logan whispered quietly, running his fingers through his hair. “They took me from her and threatened to—Gods, it's my fault.”

    Dee sucked in a sharp breath and was quiet as Logan's breath became rapid. When he finally spoke, his voice strained as he attempted to hold back his seething anger. “I don't mean to rain on your pathetic pity party, but no. If that spell killed her, it was because the king drained her dry of all her energy. I told her—I told her it was too much, and she cut me out. I tried to tell her but I never thought she'd take it that far.”

    “She didn’t have a choice. The king left her with no other viable alternatives that would also keep me safe.” Logan felt his stomach unclench slightly at the soft regret in Dee’s voice. He put his hand down, pushing himself up of the ground curiously. “You knew her?”

     “I considered her a friend,” Dee scoffed in disbelief. “though she was clearly a wonderful friend, running off to be some human’s lapdog and cutting off contact with the only people that could have helped her."

    “The choice clearly wasn’t in her control.” Logan muttered defensively.

     “Right, because choosing between her entire race and the allies she'd kept for centuries and you—” Dee sneered condescendingly. “would be a difficult decision.”

    Skin prickling with anger, Logan's gaze narrowed into a glare. “Perhaps she made the right choice cutting you out, if this is how you treat your late friend’s only son.”

      “You hold your tongue or I'll tear it out.” Dee snapped with a guttural growl as he took a step forward.  “You may be her creation, but you’re not her son.”

      Logan growled. “You’re the one who called her my mother—”

      “I needed your attention, you pesky nitwit.” Dee’s voice dripped venom as he glared at Logan down the dark. “You are not worthy of her name. She was a goddess who was able to pluck the rain from the sky and the dirt from the land and she bind them together to make you. You are no more her son than the wind and the rain.” Dee's teeth almost illuminated in the dark as he bared his teeth at Logan. “You're simply a ragdoll she breathed a wisp of life into. Nothing more.”

     “Clearly, she didn’t feel the same.” Logan growled, unable to hide how deeply Dee’s words cut.

    “She was a fool.” Dee's sharp disdain cut through the air as his eyes flickered gold in the dark. “Even if she considered you her child, do you even know how many children have disappeared from their parents over the last century? Do you know how many were orphaned because their parents weren’t strong enough to fight off the humans who were hunting the Fair Folk?”

    Logan swallowed painfully, breath catching in his throat. “I know—"

    “No, you don't.” Dee hissed venomously. “Don’t pretend you have even a shred of understanding of how many lives were sacrificed to spare yours. Fae disappear and are smuggled over the border to be used for whatever power they have left. They drained of their will to live. They—”

    “She didn’t know.” Logan whispered quietly, guilt rising in his throat as empathy welled in his chest. “R-Roman said even the king couldn’t have predicted the destruction—"

    “What a comfort for the families whose lives were destroyed by their negligence.” Dee spat. His voice gradually raised in volume as emotion crackled in the air around him. “Who could have possibly predicted that humans would take advantage of the weakened fae?”

     Logan looked up suddenly as a gasp escaped Dee’s lips. The sound of metal clanging filled the air as Logan tipped his head up to see Dee’s dark silhouette bent over staring at his wrist.

    “Dee?”

    Dee's eyes shot up to him with a feral growl as Logan suddenly scrambled back to the wall behind him. Dee hissed as Logan rushed to dislodge the torch from the wall and crouched back into the dark as Logan spun back around to rush the metal bars.

      “Dee, you’re hurt.” Logan whispered breathlessly. He bit his lip, stomach twisting in empathy as the torchlight revealed streaks of red on Dee’s wrists.

      “Keep my name out of your mouth.” Dee snapped. “I don’t want your pity.”

    “You need treatment—” Logan muttered, ignoring Dee's hostile remarks. “I'll get Roman—”

     “If you bring that prince anywhere near me, I'll tear out his pretty throat with my bare teeth—”

     “Virgil, then.” Logan pleaded, suddenly growing frantic as blood dripped from his wrist."

     “No.” The wounded fae snarled, baring his teeth at Logan as he paced the bars.

     “I can't open the door without assistance—”

     “Then, don't.” Dee snapped with a menacing step forward. “I didn’t ask you for help.”

    “I don't accept that.” Logan's mind raced as stared at figure of Dee crouched over in the dim light of the back of the cell. His eyes widened as he noticed dark pools at the fae's feet. “I'll be back in a moment.”

    “Where do you think you’re going, Logan?” Dee stepped forward, metal clanging as he rushed the bars. "We're not finished here."

      Logan bit his lip, feeling a wave of guilt as he took in the full extent of Dee's injuries. A mixture of dried blood mixed with fresh as it streaked down his arms. He softened his expression. “There is a medical kit near the guard's quarters that I was able to raid for supplies for the antidote for Roman's poison. It was well stocked.”

    Dee gritted his teeth silently, unable to stop Logan as he turned to place the torch back in it's holder.

    “I'll only be a minute.” Logan whispered  apologetically, briefly glancing back at Dee's deathly glare he ducked through the archway.

    Getting to the medical kit proved to be as little of a challenge as it had been the first time he'd raided their stash of supplies for ingredients. Fortunately, they seemed to have restocked from his last encounter and even added to their extensive supply. His face twisted in disgust. Realistically, he knew he should be grateful he hadn’t needed to go far for supplies, but the sight of the growing collection sent bile rising in his throat.

     Logan knew all too well the supplies were kept stock for when Remus pushed too far on his victims. There's no mistake that this was here to keep the prisoners comfortable. There had been many instances where he'd been left to bleed in the dirt without concern for him to believe that, but the few times he'd been truly afraid he may not survive the night, Remus had allowed one of the guards to haphazardly treat his wounds. The unforgettable experience of his wounds being treated so roughly sent shudders down his body, but he'd survived, perhaps thanks to the clumsy treatment he'd been granted. Still—He clenched his jaw, refocusing his energy away from the uncomfortable memory.

     Subtle, colors filled the air as he quietly dug through the various pouches of herbs and oils, trying to guess what he might actually need. He’d only gotten a cursory glance at Dee’s injuries and hadn’t dared ask the already seething fae for a closer inspection.

    What am I doing?

    I mean, he knew he couldn’t just leave Dee to bleed out. He didn't have that cruelty in his heart, but nothing was stopping him from grabbing Roman or Virgil at this point. He'd walked away unscathed, and he knew they'd certainly help him if he asked, but he couldn't bring himself to break the small amount of trust Dee had placed in him letting him walk away.

    Not that he'd had a lot of options.

  Logan clenched his jaw and quickly hooked the waterskin he'd swiped from the guard's supplies on to his belt loop and shoved the rest of the bandages and a collection of salves and oils into his bag. He groaned and pushed himself back up toward the door, quickening his pace. Subtly, he gave a brief pause at the door, listening quietly at the door. He paused before pushing himself through the crack and making his way back to Dee's cell. Logan edged along the shadows near the walls as he deftly avoided the unobservant guards patrolling hallway of cells. His anxiety started build, creeping across his skin as he approached the figurative lion's den once more.

     Logan slowed as he tiptoed into the hallway with Dee’s cell. He could see a subtle cloud of colors drifting out of his bag carried by the wind back the way he'd came. He could taste the herbs on the air as he stopped quietly in the hall outside the door, listening intently.

    He heard a subtle whisper as he crept across the threshold toward Dee. Listening intently, he peered around the corner as the whispers stopped. Logan looked into the dark corners of the cell as he turned the corner, immediately spotting Dee’s eyes glowing their usual bright gold.

     Logan stared curiously at Dee, who seemed to be too distracted to notice Logan re-entering the room. He carefully traced Dee's line of sight to the far corner of the room as he let out a distinct hiss while he appeared to stare at nothing. Logan froze in place, miscalculating a step as Dee's cold stare turned to him.

    “Oh, good.” Dee snipped. The glow of his eyes flickered with exhaustion as he watched Logan slowly unfreeze and move quietly to the cell door. “My daring hero has returned from his harrowing journey that was absolutely not pointless—”

    “Shut up.” Logan muttered in an exhausted tone as he grabbed the torch out of it's holder and turned to scan the walls of the cell. “You need treatment.”

    “You can't get to me.” Dee spat coldly. "Therefore, this venture was pointless."

    “I can, actually.” Logan stated dryly.

    Dee paused, staring at him suspiciously. “How?”

    “You'll see soon enough.” Logan’s chest tightened nervously as he turned to face the wall behind him. He shoved his hand into his pocket and pulled out the lockpicking set Virgil had given him. He hesitated, fidgeting with the tools in his hand as he cautiously kept the picks out of Dee’s sight. Picking the lock to the cell door would certainly easy enough. Virgil had implied that the locks in the dungeons were of amateur design, but doing so was as good as showing his hand to a man who seemed determined to prove himself Logan’s enemy, and Logan certainly couldn't see how that was a wise course of action.

    Logan sighed, defeated. He couldn’t knowingly walk away while Dee was in his current condition, not even to fetch Roman. So, he steeled his stare and turned to move to the cell door fiddling with his picks.

    “What are you doing?” Dee hissed the demand, staring at him..

    “I think it is very apparent what I attempting to do.”  Logan growled back. “Unfortunately, if you have questions, they will have to wait as I need to focus.”

    Dee seemed to bite back a sour retort as Logan slid the first pick into the narrow lock. He glared silently at Logan, but allowed him to work in peace as he got a feel for the pins. Logan glanced up at Dee’s unblinking stare as he manipulated the last pin into place. He knew he could simply pop the lock open, but he let the pin fall out of place, but Dee’s injuries didn't appear to be an immediate threat to his life. To be perfectly fair, if he was being forced to show his hand on his new skill, he still didn't have to reveal to Dee that he was good at it. A few minutes passed as Logan played up his lack of skill, smiling subtly as Dee grew frustrated.

    “Why don’t you give up? You obviously don’t—"

    A single pop from the metal of the cell  door stopped Dee’s statement in it's tracks. Logan couldn’t help the smug smile that spread across his face as Dee watched him slowly push open the cell door.

    “Stay away from me.”

    “I think we've established that's not going to happen.” Logan chided softly as he stepped forward. He kneeled down in front of the fae and held out his hand  to Dee expectantly. “Give me your wrist.”

    The scales on his face glowed a dull yellow as Dee hissed threateningly at Logan as he kneeled beside him, but much to his surprise Logan simply hissed back at him. Anger burned in Dee's eyes at the response. “Don’t treat me like a feral animal.”

    “Don’t act like a feral animal.” Logan grunted as he gestured sternly for Dee to extend his wrist. He felt a small surge of empathy as he met Dee’s gaze. His scales dull glimmer gave away the exhaustion he was so clearly trying to hide.

     Dee's heated glare would have withered his willpower away in any other circumstances, but right now, he had a job to do. His focus narrowed as Dee reluctantly held out his wrist. The wounds were not immediately apparent under the layers of dried blood, so Logan reached into his bag, pulling out a cloth to wet with his waterskin.

     “Tell me if this hurts.” Logan muttered, not looking up. "I can be more gentle, if I need to."

     “Like you’d care.” Dee hissed back, flinching at the feeling of the cold water as the cloth brushed his skin.

    “I do care.”

    Dee paused, staring at Logan uncertainly. “Why?”

    “I simply don’t glean pleasure from seeing others in pain,” Logan whispered as he gently began to work away the layers of blood.

    Dee scoffed quietly. “Well, I certainly have not extended you the same courtesy, so surely some part of you enjoys the reversal of power.”

    “I want to help you, Dee. Any power you claim I have over you exists purely in your own perspective.” Logan stated without glancing up. He examined Dee’s wrist closely, knowing he couldn’t proceed with the cuff around Dee’s forearm in the way. He tilted his head up to Dee’s golden eyes. “I’m going to take your bind off, but I expect for it to go back after I've finished.”

    “Starting to give commands already,” Dee muttered. “How noble our sweet ragdoll is.”

    “I don't enjoy seeing you bound either, but I'm no fool.” Logan pulled out his tools and started to slide the pick into the lock, allowing his focus to drift from Dee’s intense stare. “You’ve made your feelings perfectly clear and I'm not interested in being a willing target of your rage.”

    Dee was quiet as the first cuff popped open and Logan froze as it revealed several deep gashes underneath the cuff. Large, red welts raised on his arm around the cuff, an indicator of the powerful fae’s reaction to the metal. The welts and irritation were to be expected but Logan couldn’t deny the cuts looked more purposeful.

    “The guards haven’t noticed your injuries?” Logan whispered, gently rolling Dee’s wrist to get a better look.

    “You know firsthand they simply don’t care, especially since I’m not human to begin with.” Dee growled avoiding his gaze.

    “But they should have reported it so that Roman could have done some—”

    “Your idiot prince has no idea about my injuries. I can assure you of that.” Dee replied bitterly.

    Logan swallowed, not wanting to admit the relief that washed over him at the thought that Roman had not been the one to be negligent of the fae's injuries. He bit his lip as he dropped his gaze. “Still, surely the guard would’ve approached Remus, given your relationship.”

    “Bold of you to assume that Remus was not the source of my injuries.” Dee whispered tiredly.

    Logan paused, looking up at him in horror. “I thought—"

    “You thought wrong.” Dee cut him off, and Logan looked up to see him staring distantly over Logan’s shoulder. “I told you there was no affection between us.”

    “Still,” Logan whispered. “I didn’t imagine he would hurt you.”

    “It's my own fault really. I should have predicted he would become destructive if left to his own devices. He can't resist the temptation of  hurting someone powerful when they're helpless in front of him.” Dee whispered quietly, still staring absently over Logan’s shoulder. “I’ve been his keeper long enough to know it's the way he was created.”

    “His keeper?” Logan asked, his voice carefully neutral as he listened curiously.

    Dee seemed to tense with the realization of what he'd said, but Logan remained patient. He kept working at Dee's injuries gently applying the soothing salve to his irritated injuries. The methodic movements seemed to lull Dee into speaking the words he seemed to desperately want to say.

    “You may be the key to undoing the curse that Tara placed on us, but that doesn’t mean that the Seelie and Unseelie courts simply rolled over and gave up when you disappeared.” Dee started tiredly. His voice hung heavy in his throat as he watched Logan begin to wrap his arm. “There was a plot. When Roman and Remus were born, the courts were reeling with grief from the loss of our chance at redemption. You were gone, and with your disappearance, the courts lost all hope of lifting the enchantment. It was a dark time for our people, and in their grief, for the first time in nearly three centuries, they made the choice to create a changeling."

    Logan paused as pinned off the end of Dee's bandages and moved to the next arm. He hung his head as he listened, pulling his lockpicks out of his pocket as he started on the second cuff

    “They wanted to fell the humans from the inside out, create a kink in their rule that would destabilize their monarchy and maybe give us a chance to survive their systematic destruction. Unfortunately, as had been the case so many times, the universe seemed determined to foil our attempt at salvation.” Dee watched absently as the second cuff fell off his wrist, barely reacting as Logan set to work on clearing the blood off of the deep cuts. “Despite popular belief, changelings can't be created on a whim. They take seven years to grow and nurture for the right traits before they can be switched. Continuing our stellar streak of luck, on the night of their birth, a lock of hair was taken from the kings' son and the process of creation had begun. No one realized until later that twins had been born and we had created a changeling of the wrong child.”

  Logan gently lifted his head as he worked the blood on Dee’s wrist, glad to see a slight glimmer to Dee's scales. “Why not simply correct the mistake and start over?”

    “The lock of hair must been taken before  the moon sets on the night of their birth.” Dee voice hung heavy in the air as he leaned against the wall. “We didn’t learn about the twins until weeks later. So, we had a choice. Work with what we had created or wait another generation to try again.”

    “So, why you?” Logan asked quietly as he returned his gaze to the salve he was spreading on Dee's wrists. "How did Remus end up in your hands?"

    “I have acted as the Seelie court’s ambassador to Unseelie court for well over a century.” Dee whispered sadly. “Actually, Tara had acted the Unseelie ambassador until she disappeared.”

    “She was a dark fae?” Logan whispered.

    “Dark and light have different meaning to the Fair Folk.” Dee growled in discontent. “Neither is good nor evil. They simply exist to balance the other.”

    Logan looked up at the serious expression on Dee's face and nodded slowly, still processing the new information.  He reached to his bag, pulling out a new strip of bandages.

    “Remus was created to spread misery. He was meant to fell a kingdom, but we knew he'd need guidance. Tara’s replacement had led the mission to collect you, so the representative of the Seelie court became responsible for Remus.” Dee sighed. “I became responsible for him. Still, nothing we seemed to do was enough, and once Roman acquired his pet—” Dee stalled as Logan glared at him. “Once he acquired Virgil, he was untouchable. He overrode every bad decision Remus threw at him. We thought the game was over when Remus' bored attempt to murder the prince somehow turned up you.”

    Logan pinned the end of the bandage in place and glared up at Dee defensively.

    “Your eyes glowed while he was having his fun with you in the dungeons. That's how he knew. Honestly, you probably could have fried the little bastard if it weren’t for the shackles so conveniently placed on your wrists.” Dee snipped as he pulled his wrist back from Logan. "Fortunately, you weren't so lucky."

     “You seem as determined as ever to hate me.” Logan whispered quietly, shoving his supplies into his bag. He glanced down at the shackles on the ground, but made no attempt to force Dee to replace them.

    “I can't afford to believe that any piece of her lives in you. If I did, I may not have the willpower to finish what I started.” Dee replied coldly. “You have a debt to pay and if you won’t own up to it—”

   “I will.”

   “What?”

    “Whatever it takes, no more lives will be sacrificed in my name.” Logan whispered, looking up at Dee’s subtly shimmering scales. “Show me what I need to do.”

    Dee scanned his face, taken aback by Logan’s words. He watched curiously before testing Logan’s truthfulness. “Fine. Let me go.”

   “I can't. Not yet. ” Logan added as Dee's eyes stare distrustfully up at him. He brushed himself off, glancing out the cell door. “I’m going to fetch Roman.”

   “What?” Dee hissed, his mouth hanging agape.

    “I'll do whatever it takes to end this, Dee. I give you my word.” Logan promised, holding his wrist tightly. “My life is in your hands, but I want Roman there. Whatever happens to me, I want him there.”

    “I can’t let you do that, Logan.” Dee warned with a growl. "Don't walk out that door."

    Logan took a step backwards towards the exit, holding up his hands in reassurance. “I promise I’ll return. My word is goo—”

    A grunt escaped Logan lips as a body slammed into him from behind. Instinctively, he moved to slip out of his attacker’s grip but their grip was iron tight. He struggled for a moment, blue sparks erupting from his arms until he was forced onto his chest with a painful thump. He gasped a metal shackles latched around his wrists and his lightning vanished. He gasped, feeling his power dissipate as a familiar giggle sounded behind him.

    “Oh, pretty boy.” Remus chirped happily in Logan’s ear. “For a second there, I thought Dee wasn’t going to let me out to play. He gets awful sappy when he talks about his dead friend—”

    “Get off him and give me the key, Remus.” Dee ordered, not looking up at Logan as he shamefully hung his head.

    “Dee, please.” Logan begged as Remus pulled him to his knees. He watched helplessly Remus tossed a brass key at Dee’s feet. “I said I’d do whatever you asked.”

    “Gag him.”

    “No—” Logan started to squirm, but Remus was prepared. He held him easily as he slipped a piece of cloth between Logan’s teeth.

     “You had to have known I'd prepared for your visit, didn't you?” Dee drawled lazily as the binds around his neck and legs fell free. Immediately, he took a deep breath as the light from his eyes glowed brighter and a bright shimmer passed  down the scales on his face and hands. “Nothing I've done has been left to chance. I kidnapped your prince and forced your hand on learning to use your power on your friends. I offered you the temptation of knowledge and tricked you into prying a confession out of that oaf of a prince. This was all planned for you to end up here understanding exactly why this is your burden to bear.”

    Logan glared at him, shivering as Remus’ hands grasped his shoulders. Dee stepped toward him, raising a finger to trace the scar on his face. He nearly collapsed to the ground at the reminder of the last time he’d spent helpless with Remus.

    “Our dear Remus has the unique ability to become undetectable when he needs to and fortunately you stepped right into my trap as predicted.” Dee smirked as his finger slid down Logan’s face. “The only thing I didn’t predict was your willingness to sacrifice yourself to make things right. Truly, that was a noble offer and one that won't go unnoted." Dee grinned as Logan's head shot down to the ground. "Maybe there truly is a glimmer of Tara behind those bright eyes.” Dee whispered as Logan hung his head to his chest as tears blurred his vision. “I don't want you to think this is personal, Logan. I’d be much happier walking you into this willingly, but I can’t take a chance that your prince wouldn’t be so honorable, so I'm sorry." Dee smiled sympathetically as Logan struggle in Remus' grip. "Truly I am, but too many people are relying on me to finish this for me to take chances.”

    Logan slumped back, defeated in Remus’ grip. Dee's gaze only lingered on him for a moment before he tore his gaze away and looked up to Remus.

     “Get him out of the castle. I will meet you at our rendezvous point,” Dee order sternly. “and Remus?”

      Logan shivered as Remus’ hand brushed his neck. He resisted the urge to retch as Remus grip on tightened on his shoulder, but the feeling only lasted a moment as Remus' hand was immediately yanked away from him. He flinched, expecting a blow to the side of his head, but when none came, he timidly looked up to see Dee holding Remus’ hand away from him. Both the men's eyes glowed brightly in the dim light as they stared at each other. Logan froze watching as power radiated through the air between them. An uncomfortable minute passed before Remus’ glowing green eyes flickered and returned to their normal color. Dee continued to stare at the changeling, voice dripping with power as he continued.

   “Not one hand on him that’s not absolutely necessary.” Dee hissed threateningly as Remus bowed his head submissively. “If even one hair on his head is out of place when I retrieve him from you, I will make you regret existing. Do you understand?”

    “If control’s what you’re into, I’m not objecting," Remus quipped with a chuckle. "but I really think we should talk about these thing beforehand—”

    “Answer me, Remus." Dee growled impatiently.

    Remus glared at him petulantly, but eventually he turned his head down with a snarl. “Fine. Pretty boy stays in good condition until you come to fetch your toy.”

    “Good, then go. I'll meet you as we planned,” Dee ordered sternly, shamefully avoiding the horrified look in Logan’s eyes as he pulled his sleeves over the bandages on his arms.

    “Alrighty then, pest.” Remus’ high  pitched chuckle sent shivers up his spine. “Time for a nap."

    Logan’s cry was muffled to a whimper as Remus pressed a cloth against his nose and mouth. He struggled in Remus' grip. The corners of his vision darkened as his movements weakened. He fought to remain conscious, but the battle was already lost. Regret flooded over him as his muscles stopped reacting and he drifted restlessly into an uncomfortable sleep.

---

Chapter Warnings: Restraints, Anger, Angst, Death Mentions, Lashing Out, Mentions of Kidnapping, Medical Treatment, Injuries, Blood, Guilt, Very brief unintentional self-harm, mentions of genocide, Drugging, Actual Kidnapping, Unsympathetic/Questionable Janus/Deciet

General Taglist:

@somehow-i-got-an-account @justanotherhumanstuff @im-an-anxious-wreck

You Belong With Me Taglist:

@cas-is-a-hunter @insert-cool-blogname @ironwoman359 @i-know-im-smart @imbadatnames8d @croftersphoenix @optimistic-violinist @chronicallynervouschild @croftersjam15 @actitus-hypoleucos @unbefuckinglieveable @justthatamount @eeveeeclair246 @taxicabinmemphis @theoddkidnextdoor @dwbh888

[notchesandbullets]

Ryokuryuu’s Lifeline

Part 7: The Trap

"Stay away from me!" You hissed venomously as he came closer to you. The officers had done exactly what you had expected them to do: they brought you directly to their boss.

The man everyone was after, Lord Yang Kum-ji of Awa.

They had tried to toy with you, but you refused to give in, fighting with everything you had at your disposal. Only Kum-ji hadn't been that interested in you at first, giving you the opportunity to attach a piece of green metallic cloth on the ship's flag, smirking as the lookout didn't check it and let the color fly. You had planned on staying silent, keeping your head down after you fulfilled what you promised Captain Gi-gan in your letter, but when he started tormenting the two girls across from you who were chained, you couldn't take it anymore. You shouldered your way in front of them, sheltering them behind your body.

You bared your teeth in a vicious snarl to ward him off but Kum-ji ignored your threatening displays. It was clear that he didn't recognize you, eyes light with greed and corrupted hunger, instead of being dark with vengeance.

It was best that you didn't provoke him or jog his memory, so you bowed your head and whimpered, attempting to appear pitiful.

Kum-ji sneered at you, "The pretty lamb doesn't want to play anymore? What happened to all your fire you had just a minute ago?" He taunted.

You didn't fake the flinch as your body reacted to his words, seemingly submitting to his display of power. Your breath came out shaky as you struggled to hold onto the slipping image of Jae-ha in your mind.

His soft green hair.

His vibrant lilac eyes.

The gentle smile that he reserved only for you.

You stiffened as he shackled your wrists behind your back and your feet together. Jae-ha would want you to fight against him. He would want you to come back to him. The lies of not being good enough to deserve his love faded into the background as you looked at it clearly for the first time.

You did deserve to be loved. You were loved.

"You're not getting away from me this time." He spat.

Ah, so he did remember you.

Well, that was unfortunate.

He would have a hell of a time trying to escape the wrath of your family.

Your family.

Kum-ji snickered, assuming that he had finally broken you when tears of anger blurred your vision.

But he couldn't. He couldn't even touch you. What you had probably put Jae-ha through hurt indefinitely more than his words ever could.  You had to make it out alive to see him.

To beg for his forgiveness.

You bared your teeth ferociously and Kum-ji's eyes widened at your defiance.

You had stayed in that shadowy room for the whole day. He had ended up chaining you to the bedpost at one point because of how much you were trying to defend the obviously terrified girls by his feet. You used the moves Jae-ha and Captain Gi-gan taught you, breaking free of his hold countless times. He was growing quickly frustrated with you, enlisting the help of his men to keep you still while he taught you a lesson, roughly kicking your stomach until you couldn't lift yourself up anymore.

You knew you wouldn't win against them all, so you struck a bargain with him.

"Let them go, and I'll do whatever you want."

Yang Kum-ji's sadistic smile was less than satisfying, but you needed the girls out of the room and out of harm's way if you were to carry out the next part of your plan. You knew he liked submissive women, that he viewed them not as people, but rather things that needed to look pretty on an arm and not speak. It was clear that he was going to call them back once he was done with you.

You weren't going to give him the opportunity.

You stayed awake the entire day, well into the night, lashing out when he got too close to you, but he came back and struck you in the face with the back of his hand. Your face turned to the side under the force of his blow, spitting out blood. Your head was throbbing in pain, and your right eye threatened to shut under the swelling, bruises forming around it.

You made sure not to intake anything he tried to force you down your throat, knowing it was most likely either drugged or poisoned, but your body was bearing the consequences as you felt exhaustion weigh down your limbs. You weren't used to the lack of food and water, and it was shutting your functions down.

"Throw her in with the others!" He commanded, fed up with your games.

A minute later, you were blindfolded and thrown below deck. You could smell the seawater and feel the slime of seaweed slicked on the floor once they tossed you down.

It wasn't all quiet once they left. You could hear the girls' panicked whispers rise to terrified shouts as one of them started banging on the locked door.

"It's impossible," An unfamiliar voice cut through the atmosphere, silencing everyone. "I was put in here two weeks ago. Nobody came to get me out. To Lord Kum-ji, we're no different than objects."

She sounded defeated... hopeless...

You had to do something. You wriggled into a sitting position, iron cuffs clinking together as you tried to prop yourself up as best as you could with the restrictions.

"Haven't you ever," You stopped struggling, ears straining to hear more as you questioned if you heard right. "... wanted to change this town?"

Yona!

That meant Yoon was here, too...

"Yoon..." You mumbled softly, and within a second your blindfold was tugged off, revealing a battered but relieved genius pretty boy.

"Y/N!" He shuffled behind you, trying to pry off your cuffs, but stopped when you winced in pain.

"Ah..." You hissed, and Yoon pulled back in alarm. "It's fine, just leave it."

Your arms were cuffed behind you, but you scooted backward, bringing your hands underneath your hips and around your ankles so that they were now in front of you.

"Are you hurt?" Your eyes scanned over Yoon's shaking form. Yona was whispering words of inspiration to the disheartened girls, encouraging them to reach out a hand back if someone reaches out theirs to help them. He shook his head and you felt relieved.

"What she's saying it's true," You supported Yona's indirect claim of aligning with the pirates, who unbeknownst to them, were making their way to the ships right then and there. "We're going to escape and we're going to rescue you all. Will you let us?"

Their eyes shimmered with forbidden hope.

"Yoon," You mumbled, and he leaned forwards, straining to hear you. "Where's the firework?"

"In my sash," Came the quiet reply, "It's small but it'll shoot high."

You nodded, now informed. "We've got to get on deck." You mused. "I'll clear a path for you."

Yona and Yoon's eyes widened. It was dimly lit in the cargo hold, but they could still make out the many injuries on your face, blood dripping down from your forehead and Yoon noticed how you kept your arms pressed to your stomach, as if to alleviate the pain.

Together, you tricked one of the guards to come down by banging your restraints against each other, and he clambered down to investigate the noise. Yoon shot a tranquilizer dart at him halfway down, and Yona yanked at the rope by his feet, causing the guard to lose his footing and knock his head against the steps.

Your eyes widened as you heard the sound of cries ringing faintly through the air and swords clashing together.

The battle's started.

"Yoon, we've got to hurry!" You hissed.

"I'll help too." The girl who had seemed so desolate and hopeless before was standing with determination. "My father was a ship's carpenter, I know the layout."

Yona beamed at her offer and she introduced herself as Yuri. Quickly you all made your way out of the ship's cargo hold as silently as you could, not wanting to attract any attention this late into the plan. There were two guards near the entrance leading up to the deck and you gestured for the three of them to hide behind you.

"I'll get their attention, run past them when you have an opening." You instructed firmly. Yona began to protest, voice cracking with anguish at having to leave you behind again, but stopped when she felt your hand resting on your head. "Send up the flare. The girls are our first priority."

Yuri looked between you and Yona, noting the reluctance the red-haired girl had at the idea of parting with you. "I'll help her."

You gave her a nod of thanks, turning swiftly back to Yoon and Yona beside you. "Go. Keep each other safe."

Yoon nodded, pulling Yona behind him to hide behind some crates as they waited for you to make the first move. "Yuri, stay behind me. Do your best to not get captured, that's more important than anything else, understand?"

She dipped her head in understanding, surprised at the turn you took from gentle older sister to merciless battle tactician.

You stepped out into the guards' line of sight, waving at them seductively, eyes hooded. They shouted as they saw you, and you led them towards the back of the ship. Yuri was hidden in the shadows, and you saw Yona and Yoon dart out from their hiding place, effectively making it onto the deck as the guards were distracted by you.

You sidestepped their sloppy attacks easily, enlisting the aid of the swaying ship to time it perfectly. As it swayed to the side abruptly, they became unbalanced and you saw your chance. Lunging at them, you tackled the first one, causing his sword to slide out of sight. The second one didn't get much farther as Yuri hit him over the head, knocking him out. You gave her a subtle glance of approval.

You heard whistling as the firework was launched into the air.

"Go back below deck, free and then gather up the rest of the girls. There will be a lot of shouting above you, don't come out until it dies down, okay?" You ordered, urging her back down.

She hastily nodded and you sprinted towards the hatch, bursting out onto the deck, gagging at the think stench of blood in the air. You saw a flash of crimson hair from the right and your body filled with dread as your eyes landed on the sight in front of you.

Yoon was tied up and getting beaten by a bunch of mercenaries, and Yona was shooting anyone who came close to him with a bow and arrow.

You ignored the question of how she obtained that, opting to kick aside one of the guards attempting to sneak up on her instead of asking how she managed to get her hands on a weapon. The others turned their attention towards you and you grinned, but then you remembered your hands and feet were still chained together.

Time to have some fun then...

You pushed Yona to the side as one of them went to grab her by the hair, effectively grabbing you instead. You snarled, wrapping your cuffed hands around the back of his neck, bringing it down as your knee came up to smash into his chin.

"K-Kill her!" Came the shaky order as he looked at his comrade who laid in a pool of his own blood.

Your tongue grazed over your teeth lightly, poking out of your parted lips that were curled in a confident smirk.

Their numbers quickly overwhelmed you, and you crashed into the floor, face shoved roughly against the wood. You resigned, closed your eyes and accepted your fate.

I 'm sorry, Jae-ha...

Then, wind whipped around you as a familiar set of robes fluttered in front of you, emerald green hair darting into view.

The mercenaries cried out fearfully. "W-Who are you?!"

"I'm the pirate who has submerged countless ships... the pirate who dances through the skies. But more importantly," Violet eyes glinted dangerously, "You had better not approach me recklessly."

Jae-ha growled, "I'll kill you."

[fabricatedsoldier]

@krvla​ says: [ direct ]  Rufus taking Cloud by the chin and telling him to look him in the eyes. From Rufus.

( acts of dominance. )

☆ ━━━ Cloud keeps trying to retrace his steps to how the hell he wound up here. 

Hands chained together not with handcuffs--the Mako in his veins could easily tear through that--but his wrists wound with chain links, heavy enough that he feels the weight knotting in his sagging shoulders.  

Strapped to a chair set before a mammoth desk made of dark marble, shined so meticulously Cloud can see his reflection down to the bags under his eyes.

How did the famed ex-SOLDIER become a rat trapped in a cage?

Cloud tries again to push against the clinking restraints, so sure he can break them if he has enough rage to fuel him--

Rufus Shinra, set upon his chair/throne behind the desk, chuckles at his blatant helplessness.

And Cloud slumps back against the chair, huffing in defeat.

Cloud hates feeling this useless, having to resort to the wishful thought that maybe someone saves him from this deadly trap--

But he doesn’t reserve enough hope even for that--rather, he knows he’s doomed if he doesn’t claw his way out of here somehow. Yet his fate begins to seem to bleak when Cloud can’t break the chains--he struggles against them a moment more, his wrists cutting into the metal, biting until he bleeds, and still they don’t slack at all. 

Every second more he spends inside this hell draws him closer to outright panic.

Cloud has fixed his expression into impassive rage and he holds onto the anger inside him tight--because once that hatred slips away he’ll only be left with cold FEAR. Something about being here under Shinra’s thumb leaves him with the feeling of terrifying familiarity. As if this isn’t the first time he’s stared at the devil, as if maybe he’s been a rat circling its maze far longer than he thought. 

Cloud starts looking around the room quickly, assessing his options--if he jumps to his feet, somehow balances the chair on his back and hurls himself into Rufus, what are his chances of survival? None, there’s three Shinra grunts with guns strapped to their sides dotted around the room. This time Rufus won’t take any chances. And quite likely, he will indulge in Cloud’s punishment in more inventive ways than merely shooting him. Cloud glances to the pens in their little cup on the desk--could he somehow get to those, gouge out Rufus’s eyes before he’s shot down? There’s not a chance with the chains--

Cloud dully hears shoes clapping against the marble floor, but he’s too seized in sudden horror at his depleting options that he doesn’t notice, starting to sink into his broken mind as he looks around and sees no one is barging through those doors to save him--

His face is suddenly grasped roughly in a gloved hand, the fingers digging into his skin, wrenching his gaze from the doors to look into glinting, dark eyes instead--

“Look at me and tell me, Cloud,” Rufus Shinra is hissing, his voice oily smooth, chilling. Cloud is forced to stare into his face that is mere inches from his own--he can feel Rufus’s breath mist over his cheeks. 

Cloud can’t stop himself from trembling and he’s ashamed of it, even now when he’s staring at death in the eyes.

And Rufus asks quietly, almost a mere whisper, “What Class were you?”

There’s an edge in the way he asks this simple question: a knowing glint, like a blade finding its target in the dark, ready to cut out its heart.

Still the answer falls from Cloud’s lips so easily, like a doll churning out its one sacred line: “First,” he spits it out with such venom, the last ounce of his bravado spent on that singular word.

He’d been so proud to be FIRST.                  Ex-SOLDIER, Cloud Strife, that’s him, right?

Rufus smirks at him, the edges of his smile cutting, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction, “That’s what I thought you would say.”

He draws away and goes back to his desk, picking up a manila folder thick with pages stuffed inside. He slowly draws over to Cloud, taking his time, each of his footfalls spurring on Cloud’s heart faster. 

Rufus drops the file onto Cloud’s lap and the ex-SOLDIER (?) reads the print emblazoned on the front in horror:

                                  THE NIBELHEIM INCIDENT                                               YEAR 0002                                              CLASSIFIED

Cloud knows what’s in those pages beneath, doesn’t he? He remembers the flames crackling, his home soaked in the fire, the Reactor, Tifa covered in blood, her broken body--

            He remembers, doesn’t he?

But after, after he stabs Sephiroth--what happens after?

Cloud finds, with a lurch, he doesn’t know the ending.

Rufus smiles down as Cloud stares up at him, wide-eyed, shaking his head numbly--

( STOP! )

“Do you want to know the truth, Cloud? Who you really are?” Rufus asks in that same cold, heartless whisper. “I have all the answers for you right here.”

Cloud is still shaking his head, pleading for this to end, shattering into pieces in front of his enemy... he stares at the file on his lap, reading the word CLASSIFIED over and over again--

          HE REMEMBERS, doesn’t he?

[bloxdstained]

&.  jenny boyd : female : she/her : you should see me in a crown by billie ellish  —  It seems calista has been lured to Volterra. the twenty five / +-980 in # -year-old vampire has been in the city for two days. Whispers in volterra says they’re nomadic.  doesn’t sharp red painted fingernails dripping with blood, a sassy attitude and leather clad restraints remind you of them?   ⸢  penned by :  sirius age : 29 tz : gmt+1 pronouns: she/her. ⸥

caelia’s life started out as peaceful as most newborn babies would. swept in a blanket in her mothers arms, with her fathers adoring gaze upon her. 

unfortunately, caelia doesn’t remember any of it. all she does know of her childhood, is growing up with her aunt in a small indian village, constantly chastised for not behaving properly. 

from the moment she could walk, caelia was a curious and most would say unruly and wild child. she didn’t like to be inside, hated that her aunt was so strict and protective. not to mention that she seemed awfully taken with being so kind and caring towards others. 

while caelia understood that you had to show a certain degree of kindness to be liked, she early learned that she could pretend just as easily. why she should give of herself to others, when everyone frequently seemed to care the most about themselves was a mystery to her. one she never quite solved. 

so she grew up, loved and protected, but never feeling quite accepted or understood by her aunt. in truth she thought the woman was her mother, until a warm summer day when a blonde woman with striking beautiful features showed up at the door, introducing herself as her mother. 

at first caelia was confused, then she grew a little excited, listening in on her aunt and unknown mother speaking in the kitchen while she was told to stay in her room. 

but as quickly as she had appeared, her mother disappeared, leaving the girl heartbroken but also angry. her aunt claimed she had left so that caelia could continue to live a safe and normal life with her. but the whole story came off as fishy to the young girl. 

not entirely letting the matter rest, but finding herself captivated by one of the new arrivals to the village; a young handsome man with no wife or family, calista set her focus on making him fall for her. 

she snuck out to see him, spent nights out with him when her aunt thought she was in her bed. though the more time they spent together, the more she realized there was something odd about him. something not quite human. 

caelia had just turned twenty five when her boyfriend decided to turn her. he did so while she was sleeping in his bed, and when she awoke, he was out hunting to calm his hunger, wanting to be as put together as he could be when she awoke. 

in the meantime, caelia woke feeling disoriented and off putting. like she had done lots of times before she went home to her aunt, not surprised at the chastisement that met her at home. 

her aunt forbade her to leave the house and went out. whilst alone at home, bored and pretending to clean, caelia came over a small wooden box hidden among her aunts things. the name ‘Sita’ was carved into the wood, and inside she found stacks of beautifully written letters. 

once her aunt came back home, caelia confronted her about what she’d found, and to her shock and fury, her aunt admitted that the names she had discovered where the names of her birth parents, claiming neither had been fit to be parents to her at all. 

in a fit of rage, caelia murdered her aunt, making the woman her first kill and feed in one. truth be told, once the bloodlust and anger subsided, the girl didn’t feel even remotely sorry. 

since she has scoured the earth for her parents, leaving India behind and exploring all other continents and settlements. 

uncertain what she could trust, she has since then hired several PI’s, hoping to find her mother first and learn the truth from her.

she came to Volterra not long ago as her PI Jessica Stanley informed her that she had a lead on her mother being there. Caelia, now going under the name Calista, is hopeful but also apprehensive, not sure what she will find. 

personality ; 

calista has a rather confrontational, sassy and confident personality that for most aren’t too easy to be around. she is very direct, says exactly what she is thinking, can be quite charming if she wants something, but also have a venomous tongue if you get on her nerves. 

she’s very short tempered in the way that she usually gives people just one chance, and if you do something to land on her bad side thats where you’ll be. she judges and holds grudges. get used to it. 

while calista isn’t spoiled, she is quite bratty and entitled, but also proud. everything she has she’s worked her ass off for, though ofc being a vampire has very much helped her get ahead. her underground brothel and dominatrix business is her baby and she is a fierce business woman. 

the only person calista cares about, is calista. there’s those who has something she wants, or can be of interest to serve her needs, and then there are those who can do either.. who she couldn’t give less of a damn about. she’s self centered and selfish, believing its the only way to go trough life not only to survive, but to thrive. 

stubborn as hell she can be a real bitch to argue with and very hard to convince otherwise once she’s set her mind on something. 

she can be quite manipulative if she wants to, usually always having an angle and having no reservations about using what she can to get to her end goal. some might say she’s without a conscience. 

calista is ruthless and easy to anger. over the centuries she has been responsible for thousands of deaths, simply because she felt like someone wronged her or displeased her. an example is the salem witch trials, which she encouraged and compelled the priests to carry out because one witch had slighted her in a deal. in other words, if you cross her, you pay dearly, and your death is inevitable unless you can get back on her good graces. 

wanted connections ; 

friends 

friends with benefits 

her sire 

minions and informants 

exes 

hook ups

frenemy

enemy she hasn’t been able to kill

[secret-engima]

Can we get Nyx’s POV of the Axis’ meeting? Someone outside the immediate emotional clash, anyway.

Hmmmm I’ll try?

Nyx is just as shocked as everyone else when a younger, Hunter-garbed Axis appears in a flash of light after their Axis cut himself on an old ruin, because seriously, that’s the kind of thing that happens in the Old Stories, not modern times.

He’s not the only one paranoid that the younger Axis might be some kind of shapeshifter, a creature of the Old Days hoping to steal their souls, but a few cautious questions puts that fear to rest. The kid (because this Axis IS a kid compared to them and Astrals were they really that small after the Burning, that skinny and wary? It looks way worse from the outside than it did back then) immediately starts looking around in agitation, no doubt looking for his Tredd and Luche since the three area almost always glued to the hip, and the glaives help look. No one appears, probably because only C!Axis got cut up on that stone, and after some grumbling from the younger Axis, the kid comes with them to the glaive outpost. They’ll sort out what to do with him in the morning.

Nyx doesn’t notice at first the way N!Axis looks at his counterparts, the worry and tight line in his shoulders, the kid is jus nervous and yea it’s weird seeing yourself and your friends older and decked out in military gear. N!Axis also gives Nyx a long, baffled stare that he refuses to explain, but Nyx doesn’t mind. Maybe the other Nyx has long hair or something and it’s weird seeing it short.

Things don’t start going wrong until they’re at the glaive outpost, passing out the (illegal) drinks Captain pretended not to notice them smuggling (the man might be hard and rigid on all the other regulations, but at least he let them have their small vices so long as they didn’t let it impede their work). Tredd drinks more than he should have, and sure enough, he starts badmouthing. It’s his venting mechanic, and at first they all ignore him as he complains about the outpost, about the Nifs (which they can all agree on at least). Then ... then he starts tearing up the nobles and they get uncomfortable. Tredd doesn’t mean anything by it, Nyx knows that, but Tredd is edging dangerously close to badmouthing the royal family and that could get him in serious trouble. Not to mention the king, for all his faults, HAD taken them in, had given them magic and always made sure that at least their families had enough to live on.

Crowe, who has little patience for Tredd’s mouthing off on a good day, tells him to knock it off but he doesn’t, because Tredd. and Nyx is just thinking of baiting Luche into reining in his Furia (Nyx is a little surprised Luche hasn’t done it already, but Luche’s in a bad mood too) when someone shoves him roughly aside and strides right into their group.

By the time Nyx identifies the newcomer as the young N!Axis, who had been brooding in a corner rather than drink with them, Tredd is already on the floor with a broken, bleeding nose. N!Axis’s fist is cocked back, dripping Tredd’s blood and already prepped to strike again and Nyx feels himself take an inner step back when the boy growls, low and dangerous, “You take that back.” The glaives freeze, because the Arra temper is legendary and Axis is scary when he loses his last restraint sure, but they have never, EVER seen him lash out at Tredd like this. Couldn’t conceive any Axis breaking Tredd’s nose like this. Nyx can see N!Axis’s face as he breathes in and sees the teenager struggling to rein himself in.

“You. Take. That. Back.” He repeats and Nyx’s skin prickles at the feral snarl coating the words, the bared teeth that flash as he speaks. N!Axis is furious, for reasons frankly lost on Nyx, and one wrong move will result in them having to try to pin down an Arra set on a bloodbath and that will not be a good time. The kid takes another deep breath and growls “How dare you. How dare you pretend to know what it’s like. How dare you wish our fate on anyone, let alone the Chief who took you in. Maybe our conditions could be better, and maybe he doesn’t do enough but at least he tries. You hold his magic in your skin and you think that gives you the right to curse his entire Clan and say none of them ever suffered?”

Tredd bristles on the floor but doesn’t move, and Nyx is grateful when C!Axis steps up and rests a hand on his younger self’s shoulder, “All he means is-”

N!Axis swats aside the hand and shifts to stare at his older self. Nyx sees his expression flicker, something like grief and anger in his eyes, some kind of ... realization that seems to break a tiny piece of the younger Arra before he bares his teeth again in renewed anger, “I know what he means,” snarls N!Axis, “and I know he’s full of pyre-ash. If you had any idea what it’s like to have been born with their full weight of magic, the full touch of the Draconian’s Blessing rather than the pittance you think makes you impressive-.”

Tredd opens his big mouth again, “What, and you do?” and the growl N!Axis gives hits a pitch that makes all of Nyx’s hair stand on end and he steps in with Lib at his side to try and keep a genuine fight from breaking out.

Nyx is mildly surprised when N!Axis grudgingly allows him to nudge the young Arra back, Nyx talking soothingly the entire time about how Tredd is just drunk and they all need to cool their heads.

It might, MIGHT have worked if Tredd hadn’t opened his big, dumb mouth again. Taunted N!Axis and told him that he might think the king is kind now, but that was naive, give it a few years and he’d think just like Tredd, and now the Furia is DEFINITELY in court martial territory. Several glaives hiss at him because too far is too far even for Tredd.

Nyx feels the vibrating tension of N!Axis against his arm suddenly relax and something in his head, the little primal instincts that have kept him alive for years, starts screaming.

N!Axis gently nudges Nyx’s arm down (he lets him only because he’s genuinely starting to fear if he doesn’t his arm will get broken), looks his counterpart and the counterpart of his two friends dead in the eyes with an eerie calm that belies the burning HATE in his eyes-.

Spits on the ground at their feet, “Storm-Father as my witness,” he intones in a too-calm, utterly serious voice, “I’ll gut myself with my mother’s blades and feed my entrails to the Voretooths before I become a filthy little Pink-Tongue like you.”

Nyx can no more stop the fight that breaks out than he could stop the tides. He’s too stunned, frozen in place in HORROR at hearing Axis (any Axis, any version of him) call Tredd a slur like that. It isn’t until Tredd has gotten his head pounded against the floor several times and Tredd has kicked N!Axis away from him and sent him crashing through a table that Nyx and the others snap out of their horror and lunge to break it up. N!Axis has gone feral, he bucks in Nyx’s arms, fighting to get free despite his bloody cheek and split lip and probably bruised ribs, screaming more and more slurs and hate at his counterpart and the counterparts of what should be his two best friends and Nyx’s mind almost blanks from the horror of it (this younger Axis is declaring a blood feud in all but name, he’s using all the words that NO Galahdian is supposed to use at another unless they mean to spill entrails onto the sand and he doesn’t UNDERSTAND why N!Axis is doing this, saying this. Tredd shouldn’t have said that stuff about the king but this is too far-)

They drag him to the far side of the Outpost and Nyx and Lib keep guard on the kid all night, both to ensure he doesn’t pick anymore fights and also to ensure no one tries to slit his throat in the night.

The moment Tredd, Axis, and Luche are out of sight, N!Axis stops fighting their grip, just goes limp and then curls in the corner and broods with fury-darkened eyes. He refuses the potion Libertus offers past his own righteous indignation (because a war declared on one glaive is war declared on all the glaive, surely, but this is a hurting teenager from another world and Lib won’t raise a hand against him) and the night is long and cold and uneasy.

The next morning, a shout goes up, a stranger approaching the base. Nyx leaves Lib in charge of guarding their guest while he goes to see.

Astrals above it’s a kid. He can’t be older than fourteen, thin and scraggly and unmistakably a refugee, with black hair in a ponytail and blue-blue eyes that watch them calmly as he explains he’s here to find a friend. They were exploring the nearby Solheim ruins together when they got separated and he followed the trail to the outpost.

No way. No WAY.

Except when they let the kid in, he makes a beeline right for N!Axis, like he has a beacon leading him right to the young adult despite N!Axis being on the other side of the outpost.“Hey, Axis,” the kid says easily, as if he’s out for a walk and not apparently FROM ANOTHER WORLD.

Nyx watches N!Axis stare, then sigh, and wonders at the way all the tension bleeds out of the Arra’s frame at the sight of the younger boy, “What are you doing here, idiot,” he asks, but there is no bite or venom to the words, only relief.

The kid has gone stiff at the sight of N!Axis’s injuries and pushes a potion on his friend as he says something about calling in a favor and how they need to get going.

Something about the way the kid watches N!Axis niggles at Nyx. Something about the way the kid moves, the way he looks in the light of rising sun as they begin marching out of the outpost, glaives whispering on their heels. Something … something Nyx can’t … can’t place.

Until Tredd comes out of the barracks, Luche and Axis on his heels and yells out a vile curse, fist already cocked back to punch N!Axis one more time, and Nyx starts to step forward to try to keep the bloodshed at bay-.

Freezes with all the others when the scrawny teen is suddenly there, between N!Axis and Tredd, a lethal, furious pressure rippling through the air as a host of ghostly weapons point right at Tredd’s heart, “Are we going to have a problem?” The teen asks and there is something eerie underlying his voice, some kind of echo of voices, old and cold and cruel that makes him seem suddenly not a teen at all but something entirely ancient and inhuman.

Lucis Caelum, wheezes something in Nyx’s mind as he struggles to breathe, angry, ANGRY Lucis Caelum.

N!Axis calls him off, which surprises Nyx until he sees the look in the younger Arra’s eyes. Loyalty. Fervent, utter loyalty. A devotion given only to the best of Chief’s and closest of family.

And oh. OH. That … that explains the rage, the fury, the slurs and the screaming. N!Axis wasn’t defending a foreign king who distantly aided refugee’s.

He’d been defending the father of his Chief. The father of family, for all the boy doesn’t wear an Arra braid (yet. If N!Axis doesn’t put a braid in that boy’s hair by the end of the month Nyx will eat his shoes).

No one moves to stop them as they leave, hands linked together, straight backed and thin, worn down but proud.

Nyx eyes the expressions on he faces of Tredd, Luche, and Axis and feels uneasy for reasons he can’t name.

[imagine-myhero]

Wicked

This is a request I got on my AO3 page: 

“hi can I request Vampire!Todoroki x Reader? where Todoroki saves reader from being burn alive at her village because she is accused of being a witch. thanks” from shinichishi.

Pairing: Vampire!Shouto x F!Reader

“Please, don’t do this!” You beg through hysterical tears as the people who once looked at you with kind smiles and warm eyes now forcefully drag you across the autumn dirt to the town center with frenzied, hateful expressions. You resist and struggle as much as you can, but you’re not nearly strong enough to break free. “I’m not a witch, I swear!” You insist, but all your pleading and screams fall on deaf ears.

“Don’t gaze upon her! You will fall under her wicked spell! Avert your eyes and ears, all of you!” A man cries out to the crowd who roars in agreement and anger. It’s the man who brought this terrible fate upon you, staring down at you with cold and cruel eyes. You fall limp in despair, tears running down your face without abandon.

How could this happen?

What have you done to deserve such a fate?

Soon, you see the mounds of dry straw and kindling surrounding a scorched wooden stake in front of the courthouse. Your blood chills and your heart sinks to your stomach. Fear, pure unadulterated fear courses through you and you dig your heels in the ground, crying out in desperation as you begin to struggle again.

“I beg of you, please! This is a mistake! Have mercy, God please have mercy…” Your screams break into whimpers as you struggle to catch your breath through your hysterical sobbing. A hand comes down to strike your cheek sharply. You yelp at the burning sting spreading across your face.

“Silence! Do not dare utter the Lord’s name you witch !” A minister of the church hisses venomously at you. They drag you to the stake and bind your hands around it with thick rope that digs into your skin while you try to free yourself. You stare in horror at the townspeople that are gathering around you, torches in hand and evil sneers on their faces.

You can’t believe this. They were so kind to you once; the baker gave you extra pastries he made in the mornings, the minister spoke comforting blessings when you crossed paths, and the wives taught you how to cook and knit in their free time. The looks of disgust and hate on their faces make them look like strangers to you. Strangers who are going to burn you alive for “practicing witchcraft”.

It isn’t your fault.

It isn’t fair.

Unable to bear the weight of their disdainful glares, you tilt your head to the starry sky. Tears trickle down your face steadily and drip down your chin onto the logs of wood beneath your feet.

You don’t want to die, and certainly not like this.

A torch lowers to ignite the kindling. You flinch and let out a wretched sob when the fire catches. The crowd cheers. You don’t want to scream, to satisfy their sick hunger to see you suffer, but you’re so terrified. You’re about to be burned alive.  The smell of smoke wafts toward you and the fire slowly grows, consuming the path of kindling and advancing steadily toward you. You push on your tiptoes and press as hard against the stake as you can to get even just an inch more distance between you and a slow, blistering death.

Another hideous cry erupts from the crowd, but this time it’s followed by a flurry of movement. Some of the glowing lights of their torches drop strangely and you hear people running and panicking. You can’t see very well past your tears and the thickening smoke, but you can tell the villagers are scrambling and shouting about something. You barely make out the town sheriff wobbling on his feet and clutching at his neck, where fresh blood flows over his fingers to smear across his skin and stain his clothes. He chokes out some words, but they’re lost in a gurgle. A large billow of smoke blocks your view and you cough violently when it invades your lungs.

When you open your eyes, they sting from the remains of the smoke, but you’re shocked to see that the sheriff had fallen face down onto the ignited kindling. You realize his collapse had caused the wave of smoke as his body smothered a portion of the flames, but the surviving flames are quick to take revenge on his flesh.

Your attention is torn from the dead man in front of you when you feel the restraints on your wrists disappear and your hands fall to your sides. You try to look back at what’s happened, but you’re suddenly lifted off the wood beneath your feet and into someone’s arms.

You stare up at the man holding you. His hair and eyes are both two different colors, giving him a striking appearance. A large scar covers an upper quadrant of his gentle face, drawing out the bright crystalline blue of the iris it surrounds. There is something so entrancing about him and the way he looks at you with such softness.

“Are you alright?” He asks you in a soothing velvety voice, and you see pointed fangs in his mouth as he speaks. Your heart skips a beat. Have you just escaped death only for it to greet you with different arms? “You took in a lot of smoke. I’m sorry I couldn’t come to you sooner.”

You realize only then that the world around you is silent. You look to see you’re no longer in the town center with a crackling fire burning in the square or townspeople yelling in terror. You’re in a wooded clearing, in the arms of this man who has saved your life.

You stumble to find  your words as the man gently places you down on the cool dirt. How did you get here? How didn’t you notice? The man watches you stammer with a caring and patient expression. You feel your cheeks heat up at his demeanor that would almost come off as adoring if you didn’t know any better.

“I-I’m okay.” You squeak out, staring down at your soot covered dress. “Y-your—fangs…you um… you’re…” You trail. Surely you’re wrong, but the neck wound that killed the sheriff suddenly makes a little too much sense.

“A vampire.” He confirms quietly, as if he were trying not to frighten a mouse back into its hole.

You take in a shaky breath, and try your best to process this.

Your village was very superstitious, obviously, so you’ve been warned about the existence of creatures such as vampires, werewolves, and witches , but you always had your doubts. You certainly never expected to meet one in your lifetime, much less have one save your life.

Goodness. A vampire saving you from being burned alive for witchcraft.

Maybe you really are a witch.

“Do they frighten you?” He asks, showing off his  pair of pointed teeth again. He tilts his head slightly and a small frown mars his features, “Do I frighten you?”

“No.” Your mouth replies  before you can really think about your answer. Granted, the idea of vampires does frighten you as much as the next person, but this particular one... You feel foolish for saying so to such a dangerous being, but the truth is you aren’t scared for some reason. Foolish or not. You should be, you recognize that, but you just… aren’t. Not of him.

He appears pleased by your denial, and smiles in a way that has you blushing and smiling shyly yourself.

“Good.” He says warmly, reaching up to wipe away the ashes on your cheek. His hand is cool and it makes you feel better after being so close to blistering heat. “Now tell me. Why did they think you were a witch?”

At the memory, tears spring to your eyes and you bite your lip to hold them in. You’re safe now, you remind yourself. It’s okay. The man brushes an escaped tear from your face and caresses your cheek softly. “You don’t have to say if it hurts. It doesn’t matter now. You’re safe.” He seems to be reproachful of himself for asking. You don’t want him to feel bad, so you cover his hand with your own and lean into it reassuringly. You’re not sure why you feel so comfortable with him.

“A man asked me to… bed with him,” You tell him, averting your eyes in humiliation, “and I declined.”

He waits for you to continue. When you don’t, he gently pushes your face to look at him. “That’s all?” He asks. You nod, another tear falling as you give a small mirthless laugh.

“That’s all. He went straight to the courthouse and accused me of trying to seduce him into sin with witchcraft.”

The man’s face is solemn and his mouth is set in a disapproving thin line. “That’s terrible. I’m so sorry, my dear. I should have been quicker to find you. I was almost too late.”

You have no idea what he’s talking about, and the self-resentment in his eyes confuses you even more. You were lucky to have been saved at all. He acts as if he had personal stakes in the matter, but you two have only just met.

“I didn’t thank you for saving me. I owe you my life.” You say quietly, watching him carefully. His gray and blue eyes shine humorously at your gratitude and he smiles affectionately at you.

“Oh darling, it is my life that is forever yours.” He answers. Your eyes go wide and you can only stare at him in total shock, mouth falling open in disbelief.  

“W-wha…?!” Your voice has left you. The man chuckles  and rests his hands comfortingly on your shoulders.

“My name is Shouto Todoroki.” He begins, and a strange feeling washes over you when you hear his name. It feels like deja vu. “That name probably doesn’t mean much to you now, but…” He pauses to choose his words, “We knew each other once in a past life. Quite well. I’ve been looking for you, princess.”

When he speaks the last word, you feel a strange sense of enlightenment. Fragments of memories come to your mind, none making very much sense, but all so familiar. You do recognize this man in front you. You don’t see, but you feel (or rather re-feel) the warm fireplace in a grand bedroom, sparkling palace ballrooms, a charming white horse and his handsome rider, the lonely prince…

It’s not your life. But… it was...once upon a time.

“Shouto…” You whisper, the name feeling not at all foreign on your tongue. Your eyes flutter open (you hadn’t realized you closed them) and it’s like you’re seeing him for the first time. You notice even the shades of blue in his tunic give you an echoing sense of sentimentality. He is a stranger, but you know him deep within your heart.

Shouto has a look of pure elation at the sound of his name leaving your lips with such familiarity. “Considering your… sudden homelessness, why don’t you come with me? We can leave all of this behind us.” He urges, dipping his head down to brush your nose with his. You hope he’s too close to see the spreading blush on your cheeks.

You can’t help but chuckle a little at his wording and pretend it mull it over. Of course, you don’t really have much to think about— you have just been effectively removed from your home rather permanently and you do have this unnatural yet completely comfortable longing to stay with this man who you know so intimately and yet don’t know at all.

“Yes… I’d like that.” You hum absently, focused on Shouto’s beautifully delicate features and fresh wintry scent. His hands lift to cup either side of your face.

“May I?” He asks sweetly. You sound your approval and soon feel his soft lips press fervently into yours. A burst of emotions overwhelm you and you press yourself to Shouto’s firm body like he was the only thing grounding you to this world. The strange sense of long-awaited reunion fills your heart and for the first time, you feel like you’re home.

Shouto parts from you, gazing at you tenderly, and you simply bask in his surreal embrace. A moment later, you feel his lips softly brushing against the junction of your neck. You shudder slightly at the feather-light sensation of his loving kiss placed there.

“May I?” He asks again. You know what he means and you feel a little scared, but you trust Shouto so you nod, taking a deep breath to prepare yourself. Shouto’s hand presses into your lower back and pushes you flush against him. He kisses your neck again and you tilt your head for him.

His fangs pierce your skin, and the world you once knew is gone without a single regret.

[apprentice-lex]

Thank you so much! <3 Warnings for blood and injuries. Reactions under the cut. Long post ahead. SFW.

Valerius

Lucio is trying to do what?! The delicate wineglass breaks in the Consul's hand, sharp shards mixing his blood with the dripping wine, but he doesn't notice, doesn't care. This was not part of the deal. Who does Lucio think he is? He tries and fails to control his breathing; it does nothing to dissipate the panic that curls within the Consul's ribcage, burying its claws into his heart. He needs to do something. He needs to do something right now. Even though it was the middle of the night when he got the message about Lucio's mercenaries, hired to capture you like a common criminal, the Consul doesn't waste a moment, and marches immediately to the palace, right to the door of Lucio's bedroom. Valerius is quite a sight - hair escaping his braid, face flushed with anger, his house robe trailing behind him instead of his usually tasteful garments. He bangs his fist against the door; the guards that move to stop him all wither under his venomous gaze. Finally, Lucio opens the door, disheveled and cantankerous from being woken up. Listening to about a half of the Consul's angry tirade, Lucio cuts him off with: "You woke me up for such a a paltry thing?" It takes all the self-restraint that the Consul possesses not to punch the Count in the face, right then and there. Yes, Lucio is a trained fighter and it would likely not end well for Valerius, but the Consul's rage won't listen to reason. He'd do much more, for you. Who cares for a few bruises when your freedom is at stake? However, reminding himself it would do more harm than good, the Consul manages to calm himself, and instead threatens the Count with all the possible consequences he can think of - delays of the Count's parties, confiscated supplies - whatever it takes, until Lucio agrees to call off the pursuit. Valerius returns to his estate still fuming. He got the Count to let you go, but it did nothing to quell his rage or his growing dislike for the Count. He wishes he'd taken the chance to throw that punch instead, consequences be damned.

Valdemar

They pause, close their eyes, take a deep breath, and remind themself that the assistants around them do not deserve their ire. But Lucio... Oh, Lucio. How arrogant the pitiful thing is. How infuriatingly oblivious to his own insignificance. Yes, Valdemar had a deal with him, but they've had countless deals with so many, over the centuries; with nobles and kings and magicians, with wisemen and fools equally. They've been the court physician in kingdoms that had crumbled to dust before the civilization of Vesuvia ever left its cradle. And now, this arrogant, insignificant speck thinks he can imprison someone Valdemar holds dear, against their wishes? Oh, how the Count will rue the day he ever heard their name, or yours. Valdemar puts down their tools - they do not need any for what they are about to do - and heads straight to the throne room, bloodstains on their apron and all. The time has come to review the terms of a deal. Ignoring the guards, they stride right into the throne room, slamming the door shut behind them. What they are about to say is for Lucio's ears alone. When the Count and the Quaestor leave the throne room some minutes later, Lucio is pale and shaking, rudely brushing off the servants' concern. You are immediately set free, and pardoned for anything he might have accused you of in order to have you captured. Valdemar goes back to the dungeons, to continue with their too-long-neglected experiment. Everything is as it should be. All they had to do is explain to Lucio whose heart they will immediately take if you are not set free.

Volta

The moment she hears what the Count is attempting to do, she breaks down in panic. The guests at the dinner table try to look everywhere but at the Procurator's tear-streaked face, trying to maintain a sense of decorum. She doesn't care. She leaves the food half-eaten, leaves the guests behind, and summons her carriage driver - she needs to go to the palace, immediately. It's also the first time that the carriage driver sees the Procurator lash out, urging him to go faster. She barely waits for the carriage to stop, before gathering her skirts and almost running up the palace stairs. She ignores the servants, ignores the chamberlain, ignores everyone who is trying to stop her, heading straight for Nadia's quarters. She interrupts the Countess' meditation - something hardy anyone would ever dare to do - to plead for help, for Nadia's support. She cannot allow Lucio to get away with this. The Procurator hardly makes sense, words flowing from her like a river through a broken dam - she begs and even threatens, promises that she will ask the other courtiers for help should the Countess refuse. The commotion quickly draws an unwelcome audience - Vulgora and Valdemar who both had business in the palace, Vlastomil who was just about to return to his estate and who finds this chaos quite intolerable; even Valerius, who comes to watch the spectacle unfold with a glass of wine in his hand and a disapproving sneer. However, the tiny Procurator's heartfelt, chaotic speech wins them over; Nadia sees it in the eyes of her courtiers. Willing or not, she has little choice but to help, because Volta will certainly never stop trying to find a way to help you, trying to get others to promise their aid. The Countess intervenes, and you are set free - Volta immediately wraps her arms around you; her own knees buckle, but she refuses to let go, which takes the both of you to the floor, and leaves you kneeling in the middle of the palace. She is unashamed of the tears of relief spilling down her cheeks as she covers your face with kisses, promising with every breath that she would never, ever stop trying, that she would never give up on you. The staff politely looks away from this display of raw emotion, but you're certain you see a few clandestine, approving smiles.

  Vlastomil

He is horrified when the news reach him; the rose he had been carefully tending to crumples in his hand. He doesn't care. His mind immediately in overdrive, he all but rips off the gardening gloves and apron, leaving everything scattered around the garden as he rushes to his study. He spends the afternoon, the evening, and nearly the entire night writing letters; promising, threatening, calling in favors, offering favors... slowly but surely turning the court and the nobility against Lucio. Messengers are dispatched, swift and trustworthy, in the night. Many a noble recognizes the Praetor's looping script, even if the letters are signed just "V." Most of them dispose of the letters, burning them; it would do no good to leave proof of that they are about to do, especially if it should fail. But the Praetor's schemes rarely fail...he's had years to build his web of connections. Lucio's invites are declined. Favors refused. Goods for his parties - such as wine and fabrics and luxury spices - withheld. It takes him days to realize he is in the middle of a rebellion. His own nobility turns against him; the palace's opulence dwindles. All the while, Vlastomil himself is the picture of politeness. Warm smiles that never reach his cold, pale eyes. Finally, the Count is invited to dinner at the Praetor's estate. He sees many of the things that were meant for his own table, had the Praetor not turned his suppliers against him. He knows these things are served as a show of power. And he knows about the poisoned blades hidden in the folds of the guests' clothing even before he sees them. He knows that his own swordsmanship would do him no good. Vlastomil bled away his riches, turned his advisors and the nobility against him, and now the only way for the Count to leave this room with his life is to not only free you, but to plead for the Praetor's forgiveness. For taking the one thing that Vlastomil cares for more than anything else. One thing that the Praetor loves. Vlastomil never raised a hand against the Count, he never even raised his voice. But let it never again be doubted that the quill is that much mightier than the sword, a whispered word at the right time more potent than a declaration shouted at the town square. You are released, officially pardoned, offered gold and land for all the troubles you've been put through. As much gold and land as the Count can offer, after the rebellion had bled him dry. Let it never be said that the Praetor doesn't make a formidable enemy. It is a lesson the Count will never forget.

Vulgora

The moment they hear the news, Vulgora makes a beeline for the palace, tossing and smashing everything and anything in their way. The guards who see the approaching Pontifex immediately withdraw inside the gates. To say that the Pontifex had murder written all over their face would be a major understatement. No one before had seen their eyes that exact hue of pale, cold gold - it was beyond rage, mortal anger and mortal bloodlust had nothing on a demon unleashed, and the news of your capture had done just that; what Lucio did unleashed everything Vulgora worked so hard to leash and restrain for your sake. Now, their gauntleted fingers were twitching, searching for the nonexistent throats of their enemies, as the guards inside the gate wiped cold sweat from their brows and tried to swallow their panic. Hearing the news that Lucio had ordered your capture, the Pontifex truly became what they were rumored to be; bloodlust incarnate, an embodiment of rage. They were a one-person army, standing alone at the gates and demanding that Vesuvia hand you over, or they would rip the finely-made gates off their hinges, and paint the halls of the palace crimson in a way that even the red plague did not. But the Pontifex themself was the least of their worries, the guards realize, when the cloud of beetles blots out the sun. They descended upon the palace gardens, leaving bare branches and barren earth in place of the lush, green grass. If you asked the guards after that day, they'd swear that the sky had turned crimson and that the water in the fountain turned to blood... that War had been unleashed, for you. It is unclear what had truly happened. Soldiers so frightened are not to be believed. But even the frightened guards still remember correctly how the last vestiges of color drained from the Count's face when he was summoned, how quickly he'd issued orders for your release. When the tall palace gates opened, still none of the guards dared appear - the sole reason the gates had opened was to let a lone figure out. You walked free - and unafraid - straight into Vulgora's arms. Everyday life in the palace soon resumed - things returned to normal. But no one would soon forget what had happened when you were taken from the Pontifex, and no one would make the same mistake again.

[iwritethat]

Jason Todd: Engravings

A/N: Italics are flashbacks, this ones a lil different to my usual style.

>>>>—————————>

———

"They're cool, kinda badass and luckily these ones are blank!"

"They're cheap and tacky. They haven't been engraved yet - where'd you steal 'em from?" He was always quick to pass judgement but it came from a kind place.

"Stall on the corner, I want to carve my name into it but I'm scared of messing it up."

"..."

———

"(Y/n) - Boss, we've captured the intruder and tied 'em up downstairs - want us to dispose of him?" Your peaceful drink at the bar was interrupted causing a halt to your paperwork as you glared at him.

"My my, so quick to get to the murder. You know it's both polite and resourceful to at least ask what they wanted, so come on." Placing down your pen, you ensured you looked presentable before heading down to the basement with your men strictly following like soldiers.

———

Your hands shook ever so slightly, fingers guiding the knife situated between them in sheer concentration though you'd yet to even graze the shiny steel. You winced, pulling away the blade with a frustrated sigh.

"Give it here, a knife is too big anyway." The exasperated tone of your friend reprimanded, briskly untangling the chain from your fingertips, then glaring at it before shoving it in his pocket and walking off into the alley leaving you with no explanation which left you to business on the streets.

———

The doors flung open signifying your arrival and the discovery was less than pleasant, a decently built male securely tied to a chair with guards standing on either side and his jacket and under armour folded on the table beneath his crimson helmet.

"Why did you uh... remove half of his clothes? That seems a tad unnecessary..."

"Ah that symbol electrocutes anyone in close proximity as Mal discovered but we didn't make that mistake twice." A henchmen quickly answered, sheepish expression on his face.

"Hm, clever. Is Mal okay though?" Not many held concern for their hired guns but you were a rare exception which is why your company were renowned for their loyalty toward you. Nevertheless, one of the guards nodded with a smile, once more placing down the offending piece of armour.

"Alright dumbass, what were you thinking breaking into my fine establishment?" Came your charming voice, fingers grazing across the back of the chair before stopping in front of your ravenette prisoner.

"That's no way to talk to your guests sweetheart, but admittedly it's one of the nicest places I've broken into." His icy gaze finally met yours, and that was when you noticed the reflective glint on his bare chest.

Instantly you knelt before the handsome stranger, fingertips barely brushing the heated silver before you received a vicious threat.

"Touch that and I'll personally make you regret it."

Regardless of his venomous attitude, you gently grasped the engraved dog tags - the gesture definitely not unnoticed by their wearer nor the foreign expression that briefly crossed your features.

———

"Oi!" The moment you'd acknowledged the voice, a slither of steel was slung in your direction capturing the light of the moon as it flew through the air.

You barely caught it, faltering before recognising the item and running your thumb over the new alterations.

'Name: (Y/n) (L/n)' accompanied by your birth date with enough space for another line if needed. However, you filtered through the next one as the tags originally came in a pair but this one was different.

'Name: Jason Todd'

'DoB: 16/08'

———

What surprised the majority in the room was your next swift movement, using the chain entangled around your digits you pulled him down to your level bringing your lips to his ear to prevent eavesdropping guards as a precaution.

"If you're Jason Todd, then what does (Y/n) (L/n) mean to you?" With your secretive whisper, the males muscles instinctively tensed and he looked to you with shock in his irises before scowling.

"That's a bold assumption."

"No, the fact you wear jewellery underneath your getup suggests it's sentimental. As it's a pair of engraved dog tags I would've thought military but there's no ID number and they're close to your heart aren't they?" Was your solemn explanation despite knowing exactly what they represented, though you still felt resentment radiating off of the captive as you waved your guards out of the room to speak more freely.

"How do you know I'm not (Y/n) (L/n) smartass?" Was his comeback, wrists twisting in his restraints.

"Because they're incredibly attractive, duh."

"Wait - you know (Y/n)? If you've done anything -" His voice seemed more lively now, like emotion was tied to that name and the hope of finding them.

"Just tell me why you're here already as I might be able to help." Unbeknownst to him, the person he seemed interested in stood right before him - not that you’d tell Jason that just yet.

———

"Why's your name on here?" You mischievously inquired, smirking at your now flustered friend.

"Wha- well because I made it, it's my signature duh." He shoved his hands into his pockets, gaze diverted to Gothams' skyline and pout upon his lips that only made you laugh.

"Uh-huh suuurre."

"If you don't want it then throw my one back." Came the snappy callout, Jason now looking at you expectantly.

"And split them up? That'll look weird." You shook your head, playfully pulling the tags away from his grip as he went for them and proudly clipped them around your neck.

"People probably say the same about us to be honest."

"What was that red?!" You didn't quite hear whatever he'd muttered under his breath, but knowing it would've been somewhat sentimental his defensive reply was expected.

"Nothing jeez!"

———

"I want Black Masks location. Now your turn."

"Roman has no influence over me or my club but I know some regulars who work for him so we can sort something out." With a brisk motion you'd slit the restraints on his wrists thus freeing him.

It was a stupid thing to do, your fingers instantly reaching for your necklace out of nervousness once you'd turned your back on him - it was a habit, you'd put your faith into a common criminal and were hoping he wouldn't kill you now he had the opportunity.

Instantly you realised your mistake, seconds later you ended up with your back roughly trapped against the table, knife to your throat and 6ft war god holding you right where he wanted you.

"Thanks for the assist doll, but you never answered my question about -" As he pulled back, there was a strain, a twinkle of metal against metal as the two chains kept you tied together.

His gaze flicked from the interlocked dog tags then back to you, recognition flooding him instantly as the knife clattered against the tile and his brows furrowed as of analysing you.

"You were right, (Y/n) is incredibly attractive..." Jason was breathless, a contrast of awe and snugness on his handsome features.

"Speaking of, clothes!" You’d grabbed the folded material and shoved it into his chest with a huff whilst subtly attempting to hide your undoing due to the close proximity.

It didn’t take much to detangle the chains so he could get dressed but not without a somewhat interesting reunion - it had been a few years since you were misguided street kids.

"I heard you were dead." Jason started, no doubt he’d inquired about you on the streets but judging by the last man any of your old acquaintances saw you with, you didn’t blame them for their presumptions.

"I heard you were dead."

"Touché, I came back though. Not 100%, but back." Jason commented, scratching the back of his neck which already told you this was a sensitive subject that you noted to delve into in the near future among other things.

"We really changed huh, you got adopted by Bruce Wayne, I got taken in by Carmine Falcone and now we're on the same side again. Sort of..." You playfully shrugged, offering your friend a small smirk.

"Falcone - you became a freaking underground crimelord?!" His shock was evident, jacket dropping to floor whilst he rubbed his temples then gesturing for you to elaborate.

"Says you! Look I did what I did to survive, after Falcone was killed I stayed out of everyone's way and kept this club and it’s profits under my control. No one owns me anymore. But nice to see you kept my nickname for you Red Hood!"

“I knew you’d do great and I have my reasons, it’s not just because of you. Anyway, Black Mask - we should probably y’know...” The big bad vigilante was flustered, a gift of yours that supposedly maintained its effectiveness through the change and so you couldn’t help but continue.

“Are you sure, you did call me attractive.”

“Yeah well you are so... whatever. And besides, you’re rich but kept the cheap dogtags so I guess I’m not the only sentimental one.” Jason closed the distance as he spoke, a gentle brush over your heart as he tugged on your tags with a smirk.

Since you seem in so much of a hurry I’d love to properly catch up some time if you’d allow it. So I f you’re quite done staring at my lips Jason I’ve got a club to open and there’s someone we need to speak to.” You tilted your head in a challenging manner before making your way to the staircase with a devious smirk as you finished your implied invitation.

“...I haven’t missed you at all. Just so you know (Y/n)!” Your partner hollered after you, hastily throwing on his jacket and grabbing the helmet before joining your side with a playful nudge as you walked to the bar.

———

"Even though you're rich now, you still haven't grown out of throwing things at people!" You mocked anger, huffing at the offender.

"Not people, just you." Jason wittily replies along with a wink.

"Oh wow, thanks I'm honoured." Your sarcasm was fluent, inspecting what he’d thrown at you before commenting on the chain.

"Jason what's this, they're replicas of the dog tags I wear already."

"Yeah I know, but these are silver. They're better." His light blush went amiss as he stopped before you with his explanation.

"You brought these?"

"Figured I might as well get you something, besides like you said, I'm rich now."

"Keep 'em." You effortlessly tossed them back, Jason catching them with both disbelief and confusion.

"But I-"

"I don't care - I don't want them. I like my ones - they're had crafted by Jason Todd and I have the crafters signature to prove it. Although since they are almost a matching set..." You trailed off, Jason's curiosity piqued as you unclasped the silver and walked behind the male who, despite his wealthy residence, kept his red hoodie.

"You should keep it, that way you'll have me close to your heart like you are to mine." Came your continuation, latching the tags around his neck whilst you walked around to face him, fingers lingering on the silver in the centre of his chest.

"Never knew you cared."

"Oh I don't, but I still have the original Red. And the originals are always more valuable."

———

[aurora-the-kunoichi]

A Year Without - Part Two

Warnings: Mention of alleged killings and rape

The back of your skull was throbbing as you slowly became aware of your surroundings. Your hands immobile outstretched and your feet anchored to the floor. By the soft tug of rope against your wrists you had been tied not shackled. A small silver lining to the shit show that was no doubt about to happen. The light was turned down low thankfully, you didn’t know if you could handle anything brighter then what the lights were set at right now.

Testing the strength of your bonds you found them cinch tighter as you struggled. If you worked them too much they would cut off the circulation to your hands and feet, not good. Your mind began to catch up with the rest of your body and the last moments you remembered were blurry at best. Karai had talked about her fun and a reunion. Then like a bolt of lightning it hit you, the green skin and enormous physique of the blurry mass converging on you. It couldn’t be Leonardo, he wouldn’t be helping the foot, wouldn’t be serving Karai. You had to have been hallucinating from the tranquilizer dart you were dosed with.

After what seemed like hours the lights in the room finally snapped on illuminating your prison. The walls were stark white, with one obvious large two way mirror near the door to your left.A hefty arm less grey upholstered chair sat in the far left corner of the room and a large metal table in the center, fucking cozy. The size of the room was rather large, maybe twenty feet by twenty feet and the smell reminded you of a hospital, sterile but sour.

“It’s rude to leave your guest waiting!” you hollered dryly to your captures eyeing the window with contempt. It was true, you had been sitting in this awful room for at least two hours unattended, let’s get this show on the road.

The sound of the handle turning gave way to your host as she sauntered into the space like she was the queen of fucking England. Her hips swung with gusto and her smile was honey sweet. No longer in her kunoichi garb Karai was dressed in dark sapphire skirt that hit just below her knees with a slit on the side that rode up nearly to her cunt. Her white quarter sleeve blouse was partially unbuttoned leaving her small yet perky breasts visible from the low V. The long black tresses of her hair were tied loosely up above her head while the black high heels that adorned her feet clicked sinfully on the cement floor as she made her way over to you. The cherry on top that completed her arrogant demeanor was a blue lollipop stuck playfully in her mouth and a large tablet in her right hand.

���Calm down my sweet, I wanted you fully awake for this next part.” Karai cooed stepping up to you her breasts pressing up against yours. Her breath was sweet from her treat and she leaned in close, “I have something I want you to watch.” Her wet sugary tongue darted out and took a quick lick of your cheek and jumped back as you tried to head butt the offending woman.

“Don’t you fucking touch me.”

“Tsk, tsk, what a dirty mouth you have. I have a gift for you Y/N, a gift of knowledge that only I can give you. Knowledge you’ve been searching for, for a year’s time.”

Your defiance slammed to a halt as Karai’s wicked smile grew to a terrifying level. Popping the treat make in her mouth her slender fingers drummed on the tablet as she leaned in again her lips brushing up against your ear. “Have you been searching for someone, someone special? Someone who went missing abruptly a year ago today?”

Your blood ran cold, she was talking about Leonardo. The foot has had Leo all this time. Anger bubbled quickly to the surface your limbs trembling as it consumed you. You were going to rip her fucking face off. “Where is he?! Where are you keeping Leonardo?!”  

“How long did you look for him?” she ignored your question stepping back turning on the tablet. Her fingers flew over the smooth surface searching for something. “How far did you search, the island of Manhattan, New Jersey perhaps? Maine? Either way it wasn’t going to be far enough, after we subdued him, which took quite a few of my men I might add. God he is strong and talented, by the gods is he talented.” You didn’t like the dreamy look in her eyes. “We didn’t keep him here, oh no, we didn’t want you to find him, what fun would that have been? So, the first thing we did was sedate big bad Leonardo and tossed him on a plane to Japan. He was sent to a very special facility where we house some of our most exceptional doctors and people we have acquired over the years with special gifts, gifts of persuasion if you know what I mean? Let me tell you, he was a hard nut to crack. But we knew this from the start so a process had to be started and it began with sociological warfare when poor ol Leo came too.”

Karai flipped the tablet to show you what she had been searching for, a security tape and the main focal point was Leonardo. His battered green body was shackled to the wall covered in blood. You could see the damage they had done to him on the roof. Cuts and gouges littered his once lustrous green skin making your rage boil hotter.  His person was stripped of all his belongings except his boxer briefs leaving him unprotected and vulnerable. He was obviously sans his mask with a long deep cut that ran up the back of his skull. He struggled yanking at his metal restraints demanding to know where he was being held and to be released but he was going nowhere.

A man in a grey suit slowly approached the leader in blue and held out a picture. You watched Leo’s eyes widen in shock and shake his head vigorously, “No!” he bellowed. “You’re lying!”

“They’re all dead Leonardo. When they came to save you they were slaughtered by Karai’s men one by one. The orange one, Michelangelo I believe his name was, fell first, he was the easiest to kill, a dagger to the throat was his end. I heard he begged for his life before Karai stomped on his neck effectively finishing him off. The purple, Donatello, was second; a katana between his shell angled up through his ribs did him in. A painful way to go if you ask me drowning in his own blood. Oh how I would have loved to have gotten a hold of his brilliant mind for study. Raphael the red brute was the most difficult to kill, took nearly 20 men to get him to the ground where they slit his throat. You should have heard him gurgle and grunt as he struggled to take his last breath. Your father was the easiest to find once we hacked Donatello’s computer system. It gave us a map right to his location and was slaughtered right in his bed.”

You couldn’t be 100% sure of what the man in grey was showing Leonardo but you were pretty sure it was a photo shopped picture of his dead brothers and father. But you knew it was a lie; all three of his brothers including Splinter were alive and well no doubt oblivious to your disappearance. But the photo must have been convincing enough, even through the poor video feed you could see the tears well up in his blue eyes. You wanted to call out to him, to tell him not to listen but that would be stupid and useless,  just like you were feeling right now.

Leo shook his head angrily blinking away the tears the threatened to spill. “No, you couldn’t have. My brothers are well trained and able to defeat your inadequate soldiers. Always have and always will.”

The doctor smiled and flipped another photo forward and the look on Leo’s face made your heart wretch inside your chest. “Your girlfriend was next, of course not before the men had some fun with her. You know when she cums she made the most beautiful sounds, like an angel. She cried out for you of course, but you weren’t there to save her. What a hero you turned out to be, couldn’t save your brothers or your love. Her end was swift if that pleases you, you can tell by the angle of her neck, quick and painless yet effective. Now you’re alone in this facility with no family and no lover. No one to save you, no one who cares.”  

Karai’s finger came up and paused the video with Leo mid scream, his face contorted in horror and fury in the last frame.

“Luckily we have a very good photo shop artist on hand that created several rather convincing death photos of all of you. It took a few days but as his body weakened from the lack of food and water he gave in to the plausible story. He was inconsolable for over a month hanging listless from his confines. We let that sink in before we started in on the physical torture.” Karai turned the tablet back around ignoring the horrified look on your face. “He cried out your name for several days after that. It was heart wrenching really, and I took pleasure in each agonizing syllable he cried out.” Her green eyes rose to meet yours and her free hand reached out wiping away the tears that were staining your cheeks.  

“I’m going to kill you.” You whispered with venom uncaring that the wretched woman had her hands on you. At this point you didn’t care; you had already killed her three times in your head.

“Oh I would love to see you try my dear.” Karai giggled returning her attention back to the tablet. A few more finger swipes and she turned it back around pressing play once again. The date on the time stamp said it was a month after his abduction, his eyes hollow and uncaring still hanging from his shackles. You could tell he had lost weight, in mass and in muscle. They must not been feeding him much.

Three men came into view all holding tazer sticks, their smiles wild with amusement. The first touched the hot end to the exposed side of Leo’s body between his plastron and carapace but Leo only shifted in his shackles groaning softly. Angered by the lack of his response, the other two men followed suit going in tandem shocking different parts of his skin. This time Leo arched crying out in pain. Over and over they attacked him all at once, Leo’s howls of anguish echoing in the empty room.

You wished the video didn’t have sound; the unnatural bellow of his agony would haunt you for however long they allowed you to live. The sight of his body recoiling from the current made you sick to your stomach. He had been here for a year enduring this torture, day in and day out. You weren’t there to help him, none of you were. He suffered alone with these animals, these heartless demons.

Again Karai stopped the feed and dropped the tablet back to her side and chomped down on the lollipop in her mouth finishing it off quickly. “You get the idea right? We put him through hell and broke him; we broke the legendary Leonardo; the man with the plan, the untouchable mutant. He was ours to mold, to retrain as we sought fit. It took longer than we expected, he was strong willed but no one can resist the charm of Dr. Langston for long. But Leo does hold the record for withstanding his treatments the longest. Dr. Langston was impressed to say the least.” The kunoichi laughed swinging away from you to walk back over to the door and knock twice. “He’s an obedient foot soldier now, and my favorite if I might add. But I’ll let you be the judge of that.” As the last words fell from her cherry red lips the door opened slowly.

Out of the darkened doorway he came, each step he took was of power and arrogance. Gone was his usual wear, replaced with jet black pants and specially made foot wear. Wide black leather wraps encompassed his thick forearms traveling up to intertwine with his three fingered hands. His blue katanas given to him by his father were absent replaced by two loosely hung red twin katana tied to his hip. Each shoulder had metal plates over them stamped with the Foot’s emblem and to complete the sinister look a black mask was worn where the blue once laid.

“Leonardo please don’t be rude, please go greet our new guest.”

As he closed in you saw his once brilliant cerulean blue eyes dulled to a grayish blue, the life once aflame in his stare was gone. There was no honor in his gaze as he looked you over like a piece of meat. No empathy and certainly no love for you. What had they done to him?

The last video you were forced to endure Leo looked frail and broken but that look was long gone. His muscle mass had returned leaving him looking toned and threatening. With each move of his body the muscle flexed and pulsed under his scaled skin making your body start to ache. If you had seen him in any other circumstance you would have though he looked good, good enough to eat.

“Leo?” you called tentatively tugging slightly on your bonds. Would he remember you at all?

As he neared you could tell the change in his smell. The hint of tea and incense was long gone overpowered by the stench of death and steel. His dull eyes narrowed in on you getting too close for comfort. His hand reached up cupping your chin tilting your head to and fro examining your face before his lips parted gifting you with the first sweet sound of his voice in a year.

“What a pretty little toy you’ve got Karai. Is she one of the reasons I was summoned to this country?”

The sound of Karai’s heals echoed throughout the room as she crossed over to the both of you. Her hands ran seductively down the dense muscles in his arms and pressed her lips to the tattoo there.

“Yes my love, she is a gift to you from me. This sweet little creature stole the other three of your kind from our master brainwashing them. And if she knows what’s good for her, she will tell us where they hide. But first I think it would be prudent to play with your gift. After all what good is a toy if you can’t play with it?”

“What do you think we should do first?” Leo clipped sinisterly squeezing your chin painfully tight in his massive grasp.

Karai’s ivory hand snaked up and around his thick neck tilting his head towards hers, “This one will lie and tell you that you once loved her, but let’s show her who you really belong too.” Her fingers twirled around the tails of his black mask and Leo leaned into her, his mouth slanted enthusiastically over hers. She immediately opened her mouth giving his tongue access making a show of it leaving you helpless to watch the love of your life kiss another woman.

Part One

@southernblossoms @blossom-skies @imthegreenfairy88

[jenovahh]

KYKM - 14 Months, 7 1/2 Days

Though his heart leaps in his chest, only through years of practice is he able to maintain his neutral expression as he turns to the owner of the voice that had called his name.

There you stand, the very picture of disbelief, greatsword looking as it might fall out of your hand at any moment. Your emotions flit across your face too fast for him to take note of each of them, stunned for so long that eventually more footsteps are heard as the Scions emerge from the stairwell.

“Warrior of Light, is all well,” First one gasp, than many eyes land on him.

“Zenos?”

“But how did he,”

“By what manner,”

All chatter is silenced as he shifts his weight, sending the group of heroes on guard. “Well. I can see why our entrance was met with little resistance.” The white-haired male, Thancred he remembers, unsheathes his gunblade. The others follow suit, weapons wielded as a wry smile tugs at his lips. “How on earth did you get here?”

“I walked.” He drawls, further amused as it seems to rile up the other man.

“Thancred, ‘tis not the how that matters...” Urianger begins, eyes narrowing on him, “but why.”

“And just what will you all do if I refuse to tell any of you about my reasoning?” He challenges, hand slowly reaching for his sword as he delights in watching them squirm.

A single upraised hand from you is all it takes to stop their bickering, eyes cold and hard as they focus on him. “Keep going.”

Immediately the notion of being alone with him doesn’t sit well with anyone. “But we can’t leave him,” Alphinaud tries but you stop him with just a look.

“What can you do now, that you could not when we were liberating Ala Mhigo?” you ask lowly. Alphinaud freezes at that, before quickly realizing your anger is not directed at him, but at the man across the room. You are right though; there is no challenging someone of his might, he who has defied death itself. 

“Continue on to Vauthry.” you order, turning back to face him. “I will deal with him.” The other Scions all pass each other worried glances, but do as you say, continuing further upward the city.

Alone with you now, he realizes just how long it had been since he had last laid eyes on you. Not much has changed, save for that hardened look in your eyes, though it was not hard to guess that was of his own doing. “Must you look so hostile Warrior?”

Your eyes narrow impossibly further, slinging your greatsword to sit upon your shoulder. “Why are you here?” you ask, practically hissing like a snake with the most potent of venom. Shrugging, he gives no effort to appear peaceable as he moves from behind the counter, stepping out into the open space of the plaza.

“Why do you think?” he replies with his own question. You are barely controlling your fury, he can tell. It is taking all of your control to hold yourself back in this moment. “I came for you.” he answers truthfully, resting a hand on his sword.

“You would chase me across worlds, for your duel wouldn’t you?” The sound of swords connecting is sharp, familiar in his ears as you stand before him, pressing your sword against his own. He had not seen you move but had felt it all the same, his blade singing from the contact. His blood followed suit, rushing through his veins.

“I would chase you across worlds hero. I am here, am I not?” he murmurs, sending you skidding backwards across polished marble floor. He calls his power forth, feeling your strength brush harshly against his own. You do not speak again, launching yourself at him, swinging your sword that is practically the size of your body.

The ferocity you bear against him is something he has not felt since the first time you truly came to blows as equals.

When you had fought to win.

The anger in your eyes shines brighter than any gem, the gleam of your power brighter than the constant light that bathed this accursed land. Try as he might, the call of battle is infectious, tantalizing, that he can’t help but break out into a feral grin as you somersault into the air to bring down your sword upon him once more.

Show me why I chose you, and you alone.

It would be a disservice to you, to hold back when you give him your all.

Zenos is not above being flashy; unleashing Concentravity with little effort to gain some ground between the two of you. He was glad he had chosen to bring along his sword revolver, the gears clicking within like music as they came to a stop. He starts with The Swell, hair whipping about his shoulders as the wind picks up.

With a swipe of his blade, petals fly through the air as well as you, barely able to catch yourself before slamming into a wall much like Ran’jit did earlier. Your reflexes are better, faster, allowing you to use the momentum to vault yourself off the wall, sword aimed straight for him as he moves to quickly dodge out the way. A nearby counter is destroyed by the impact, your expression unchanged as you emerge from the rubble.

“I thought I told you I didn’t want to see you.” You growl, reaching your hand out as dark, purple magic oozes in your hand. Clutching your stomach you cough as it disappears inside you, eyes glowing a sharp purple before you throw yourself at him once more. You swing your greatsword with remarkable ease, hitting him with the same attack over and over, to the point where he must dual wield if he wants a chance of withstanding your assault.

You have grown in strength.

That isn’t to say he had been slacking either, grinning as he merges the power of The Swell and The Storm, electric wind surrounding the two of you, sparks racing across your skin. You grit your teeth, eyes shining brightly as you resist his strength, his might that he had built to keep up with your constantly changing power. 

He had only ever wanted to match his equal. Ever since the beginning.

“Nothing could keep me from you, dear Warrior.” With a slice of his blade you hiss in pain as he nicks your arm, your eyes like steel as they look upon him. But even beneath that flinty stare, he can see the exhilaration that is mirrored in his own eyes. The thrill of battle that keeps you both coming back. 

“How did you even get here?” you ground out, locking blades with him once more, your fangs bared to catch his eye. Claws prepared to rip and tear and maim his skin. You had yet to draw his blood, but that did not mean he would not have a bruise or two tomorrow. 

For even for when you did not hold back, you still did, unable to cut him.

“Does the how matter, hero? Even your friend had said so, did he not...” he dodges a series of black pillars surrounding you, swapping swords to bring out Ame-no-Habakiri, it’s red tint shining brightly in the room. “It only matters why.”

“Then why?!” You roar, clutching your chest, more black, dark magic pouring from your body. He watches in mild shock as a shadow figure like yourself emerges, red eyes flashing brightly as an equally dark sword manifested. “Why would you hunt me down?!” You rush him first, your shadow not far behind.

Wielding two swords, he fends off the dual attacks, nearly overwhelmed by your power. “It hurts to see you!” you yell, swinging your sword in a dangerous arc, his sword barely able to stop the blow from landing. “It hurts to know you lied!” he gasps as your expression finally breaks, tears streaming from your eyes as you prepare another devastating attack.

But there was nothing more devastating than seeing you shed tears.

“I did lie.” he murmurs, taking advantage of your emotional state to send you flying away from him, the shade vanishing in wisps of shadow. “I did hurt you.” Face still tear stained, you run at him again, teeth gleaming. “I have hunted you down.” Catching your sword with his, he moves quickly, twirling with all the grace of a trained solider. You’re too slow this close, one hand knocking the wind out of you with a swift punch to the gut, the other taking your greatsword in hand and flinging it across the floor.

“I should be clearer with my words.” The movements are practically muscle memory as you struggle to fight back, his hand blocking yours before he could disable your movement. You are still very much a threat without a weapon to channel your aether, he had to remind himself, but in hand to hand combat he was superior in pure physical strength. Exhaustion shows in your blows, having spent all of your energy on bigger attacks. 

He goes on the offensive, feels the force of his blows on your body that he knows hurts, but holding back would be an insult. “When I said nothing could keep me from you, I meant nothing.” he growls as your fist strikes him across the face. He’s quick to retaliate, catching your chin with a solid uppercut, blood dripping from your busted lip. “Have I not chased you across worlds, to see you?” He barely dodges a swipe at his face, taking that wrist in hand to swing you into the closest wall.

And still you stand.

Rushing you down, he pins you there, placing his thigh between your legs, pinning your arms against the wall. You are too weak too fight against him as he bears his weight against you, your eyes wild and defiant as you glare up at him. “Get away from me!” you snarl, struggling against your restraints.

“Never,” he whispers, letting go of one wrist for a moment, to capture your chin, bringing your lips to his own. You struggle still, even as his mouth moves across your own, body trying to push him away. Your free hand finds his hair and pulls, bringing a deep moan from his throat that leaves you stunned. Pulling away, his eyes are half lidded, desire dancing brightly within them. “You are free to do that again, if you wish.” he thrums, delighting in your expression.

You are bloodied and bruised, hair wild and mussed. Your armor is stained with your blood and his own, from a glancing blow he had not realized you had landed. Your eyes are still frenzied, the adrenaline still coursing through your veins as you stare back at him in disbelief.

Never have you looked more beautiful.

“What other reason,” he grips your chin tighter, presses closer against you, “would I have to cross worlds, hunt you down? For one battle?” he laughs. “Nay...you are mine hero.” His grin is roguish as he flips his hair from his face, eyes twinkling with satisfaction. “You know this.”

Your face is red hot, body slowly relaxing in his hold. That grip on his hair loosens and your struggles slowly cease. “To chase you down across realms...to follow you for months on end. To make peace with the only other Garleans on the continent. Living amongst your people for months as I researched a way to find you.” His grip unconsciously tightens. “I have trained with you, rescued you, stayed by your side. Why else would I have come?”

All is silent save for the sound of your shared breath, the sound of heartbeats pounding in his ears. “You came for me?” you whisper so quietly, that were he not so close he would not have heard you.

“Always.” He whispers, claiming your lips once more.

[knightingale-xiv]

Nightingale's Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Week: Day 6

Chip slowly opened his eyes, letting out a low groan as his senses returned to him. He had been having such a nice dream too...Now it was back to the reality of his situation. He had been locked up in the main office of the prison camp for a little while now. The Roegadyn, Falling Timbers, came in to beat on him every now and again to try and get him to talk, but other than that his interactions with Garlean guards was pretty minimal.

He wasn't in the best shape though...one eye was blackened and somewhat swollen, and he was pretty sure a couple of his ribs were broken. The sluggish response of his left arm told him it was probably out of socket too...The downside to not being able to feel pain, was being unable to tell what sort of condition you were in...

They had kept him here overnight and through the day yesterday and they had done a pretty good job of keeping him in the dark so far. He figured he would be given a strike and let go, but they were holding onto him...that worried him. He hoped someone would come and tell him what was up soon...

As if hearing his thoughts, the door opened and two guards came in. It was the same two that had captured him the first time. The older man motioned for Chip to stand.

"Come on, kid...The warden wants to talk to you." He grunted. Chip could see a look of pity in his eye as he looked the boy over. Seems he didn't approve of kids getting beaten up for a day. Even if Chip was technically an adult, he had a bad case of baby face. He would probably always look younger than he was, because of it. The two men helped Chip to his feet, undoing the chains on his legs that had kept him tethered to the wall.

They began walking through an unfamiliar passageway heading down. An underground facility? Chip did his best to make sure he took in everything, just in case. Two things caught his eye. Pretty close to a set of stairs was a storage room. The door was open and a Garlean was inside looking for something. There was a dusty banner of some sort in the corner...Looked like it had a sun on it, but it wasn't Garlean.

The second thing was a room with 'Ceruleum Power Plant' on the door. That must be where the power to the rest of the factories came from...good to know. He couldn't speculate much more, as they rounded the corner into another room. This one definitely screamed 'torture chamber', complete with a scary looking chair and a metal rack of weird implements. Neither guard looked comfortable being in here...

The warden was waiting in there, examining a row of pliers, before turning to face the trio. "Ah, excelent...thank you gentlemen, that will be all.." he waved for the guards to leave after they had cuffed Chip to the chair.

"Sir, this prisoner has no strikes." The younger guard began. "And he's just a kid...Is this really necessary?" The warden turned his pointed gaze at the man and didn't respond. That was enough to make the guard back down. They left quietly and quickly, leaving Chip to his fate.

"This is a nice room. Don't suppose this is yhe friendly torture chamber? Where you get to know prisoners before letting them go?" Chip asked with a smirk. Torture was never really something he worried about...the only danger was dying, but since he couldn't feel pain he wasn't really sure what they hoped to accomplish. The warden chuckled and moved a stool over to sit beside Chip.

"You think you're funny, don't you..." the Garlean pureblood asked softly, his voice deceptively relaxed and friendly.

"I like to think so. They say if you can't find something funny in the moment, then what's the point?" Chip responded with the same level of measured casualness...like two friends catching up over coffee. The warden nodded and rolled his stool to a magitek terminal up against the wall.

"You know, in your older works you seemed more...serious and stoic. It makes me wonder if you truly ARE him..." he murmured, powering the device on. The screen began to light up displaying a series of images. Chip had a hard time getting all the details, but as they focused and became sharper, his stomach sank.

On the monitor were a series of still images that depicted a young brown haired Chip escaping a castrum with his squad, their VIP in tow, back in his Immortal Flame days. In addition were photos of Nightingale's two most recent excursions into Garlemald...One to rescue his engineer, and one to rescue V'ieh's fiance Kudros...He had taken significant damage on both trips, so his mask was partially broken. Each image showed some similarities...White hair and a piercing blue eye for the Nightingale photos, and the same scar structures and eyes on Chip's Immortal Flames photos.

"Arthur D'ehcan...I know that last name. The Desert Wolf shares it...D'ehcan...a reistance member and elusive combatant. Frumentari agents reported a sighting of him in Ul'dah some time back, speaking with this masked vigilante...the Nightingale." The warden said, eyes boring into the side of Chip's head. "He bears a striking resemblance to you...He was then seen speaking with a young doctor named Chip Wayman later that moon. Former Private in the Immortal Flames, dishonorably discharged for abandonment of duty...A shame, that." The warden zoomed in on two of the images.

"The Nightingale and Private Wayman were known for two things...Bringing hope to people, and rescuing prisoners from camps and castrums." The warden stood up and strode over to the stunned Chip. "They're both you, aren't they...Arthur..." he murmured. "Which means you are here for a singular purpose...to rob me of my charges..." the tall pureblood leaned down until his emerald eyes were level with Chip's own blues.

"I have been watching things ever since you said your name...I have noticed that people have been more...motivated since you arrived. I have seen hope in their eyes, and purpose in their step...you are planning a jail break...Tell me who your co-conspirators are..."

Chip blinked...he didn't know? Relief flooded him. Even if he knew Chip's identity, he didn't know entirely who to look out for. Chip smiled and shrugged his shoulders.

"Sorry, Warden...I'm kind of a lone wolf...or well, bird I guess. Fly solo. I don't have any conspirators, and if I did I definitely wouldn't tell you. So go ahead...torture me all you want." He settled back in his chair to wait.

Anger flashed through the warden's eyes at Chip's blatant defiance. This insolent brat...this CHILD masquerading as a hero was opposing him...threatening everything he had worked towards...He wasn't going to let this happen. He smiled a dark and cruel smile and straighted up, adjusting his jacket.

"Very well, Nightingale...If you won't tell me, I'll simply have to eliminate them all." He said, tone silky smooth and dripping with venom. Chip sharply turned his gaze up at the pureblood. He wouldn't! He COULDN'T! The young hero pulled against his restraints and grit his teeth.

"No! Don't you dare!"

"You did this...YOU forced my hand, and now we will have to start from the ground up...perhaps I'll spare say...half of them, just to ensure work can continue until we capture more...yes, half will work nicely." The warden turned and began to stride out.

"You bastard! Don't do it!" Chip yelled after him, furiously struggling against his binds. He had to stop him! "Its me you want, not them!" The warden paused in his stride and looked over his shoulder.

"Hmm...a fair point..." he snapped his fingers and a guard approached. "Inform the prisoners that there will be a demonstration in the morning. We are going to execute this...symbol of hope for all to see..." he smiled at Nightingale. "Then wipe out half the prisoners to sink the message in..."

Chip screamed in defiance, pulling hard on his restraints. His aether dampener crackled slightly, before the chains shattered and the boy launched himself forward. He wasn't fast enough...the heavy metal door closed and gas began to fill the room.

"Goodnight, hero...in the morning, you will do Garlemald a grand service and show these rabble the price of hope and heroism..." the warden said through the door before walking away.

Chip pounded on the door, yelling for someone to open it...to stop this madness...but no one answered and slowly he felt his strength sap away as the gas did its job and sent him back to a forced slumber...

Day 1

Day 2

Day 3

Day 4

Day 5

Day 6

Final Day

[dazzlingfantasiesblogs]

Similarities P5

Well, this chapter is pretty long... I got into this one! Let me know what you think!!

Dean x Reader

Warning: Violence. 18+ Only please.

Twenty minutes later you looked through the files and went to the morgue to check the bodies. Same M.O as vampires. “I am going to go ahead and drop Spike off. Then I am going to go talk to a few of the families.” You spoke outside of the police station. “I will go with you..” Dean stepped up to you, oddly close. “Hmm.. No. I got this. I need you two to go ahead and check out that police station.. it smelt like rotting flesh.. I think someone in there is indeed a vampire..” Dean looked at you shocked. “Sam, put a few of the hex bags in the desk of the corner. Whisper this, and ask him any question you need too. Once you whisper the same saying again he won’t remember anything.” You handed him a piece of paper. He nodded to you and nudged Dean to go with him. “Sam can handle this himself Y/N. I want to go with you..” Dean could not figure out why she would not let him. “If you get hurt.. I pay the price Dean.. Your father saved me.. I just.. you might take beating constantly  but I do not want to be that reason.” “Stop.. I am coming with that is final.” Dean said sternly. You stepped up to him, face to face. “Who the fuck do you think you are talking too?” Your voice was venomous. Dean froze, Sam noticing the reaction. “Watch your tongue. Your not ordering me around. If you want to come that is fine, but do not fucking tell me what to do before I knock your ass out.” Turning around you walked to your truck. He told Sam to be careful with his Baby and got into the passenger side of your truck. He looked around and seen how nice it was. “Wow..” He eyed everything. “It extends a bit back so Spike can lay down.” You smiled showing him the lever. He seen a picture on the dash. He reached out and grabbed it. It was you and his father and Bobby. “Wow..” Dean looked at you and then his dad smiling. “Bobby made him take the picture. Said that he wanted me to having something, knowing that people where looking out for us.” You nodded to him, starting the truck and driving to the first destination. Aerosmith started to play ‘Dream On’ and you tapped to the song on the steering wheel. Dean smiled a cheesy smile, watching you as you sang your heart out, dancing in your seat. You looked over to him and blush, forgetting you had him next to you. It was always usually you and Spike singing and howling to the music. “Sorry..” You whispered. “All good Darlin.. You look pretty hot with Aerosmith on your lips.” He winked to you. Chuckling you nodded your head. Pulling up to the first house, right away you noticed the front door was open. Barley even shutting off your truck, you hopped out, grabbing your Katana. Dean taking note of the door as well. He grabbed the machete he had brought with him. You sprinted up the stairs, before Dean even had to the door shut to your truck. You seen a little girl in the hands of one of the vampires. He spun his head towards you, hissing slightly at you. The little girl whimpered, the vampires hold on her was tight. Dean ran in seeing the predicament. “Take me.. not her.” You dropped your katana and walked towards them. “Y/N No!” The vampire smirked. He bent down to the little girl, you quickly jumped over the couch tackling him to the ground. “Dean grab the girl now!!” You yelled out. Dean ran and picked the girl up. Moving her away. You rolled around on the ground with the vampire. You got the upper hand, using your jiujitsu skills and put him in gueitene choke. The vampire thrashed his body around trying hard to get out of your hold. “Dean.. Katana!” Dean threw you your shielded Katana. “That is my daddy.. please no!!!” You looked at the vampire sighing. You grabbed your dead mans blood and stuck it in his neck and choked him tighter, making him pass out.

Sam arrived and you had tied the vampire to a wood chair. You preferred steel but you work with what you got. Dean took the little girl outside to talk to her. “Sam, he has not bitten anyone yet.. We gotta save him.” Sam nodded getting the ingredients together to get the venom out of his system. Quickly Sam injected the vampire, he screeched in pain, soon whimpering. “Sam, we need someone to watch him.. should we call Bobby?” Sam nodded no. “I have someone..”

A few hours later a knock was a the door. You opened it to see Jody Mills. “Jody?” “Y/N?” Sam walked next to you. “Jody.. well.. she is a hunter, when she needs to be..” Sam tried to explain. “Y/N has been hunting since she was a child.” You nodded giving her a slight hug. Walking into the living room, where Sam had laid the man to rest. “You sure you can handle it.. I can make Dean stay too..?” Sam said slightly concerned he made the wrong decision. “No. That nest from the sound of it is going to need all three of you too take it down.” Dean walked in. “Jody!” He gave her a huge hug, kissing her cheek. “Hey Dean.” “Lets get some rest, I am going to make some food for the little girl. I need to call Luke to see if he can feed Spike.” Sauntering into the kitchen you started to make some pasta. The little girl walked in and sat at the table with her coloring book. “You ok sweety?” The little girl whos name was Maya nodded. She kept coloring. You sat down next to her. “I am sorry you got scared. Your father is going to be ok. I promise.” “Ms. Y/N.. Thank you.. What was wrong with my daddy..?” you frowned, how where you going to tell this little girl that her dad was a blood sucking monster that her worst dreams could not even make up. Dean came in at that time kneeling down “Maya, hunny.. Your dad just got a weird sickness, that is all. Sam and Y/N gave him some medicine.” Maya smiled brightly at Dean and got off of the chair and hugged him. Wrapping her small arms around his broad neck. “Your so sweet.” Dean smiled. You nodded and whispered a “Thank you.” To him. Standing up you finished the spaghetti. You dished up Maya and everyone else setting the food on the table. You felt slightly bad for using their food. But your possible life for a meal seemed like an even trade. Everyone sat down and started to eat. “Mmm.. thanks Y/N.” Dean shot you a wink and smile. You nodded to him. Jody looked at Sam with an eyebrow raise and Sam shrugged his shoulders. “Ms. Y/N can I have some juice?” Maya looked at her with a sweet smile. You nodded getting up. Shuffling threw the cupboard, looking for a smaller glass for her so she did not spill. Hearing a slight noise you looked behind you. Seeing a random person in the kitchen. You looked around and seen three. How could you not sense them. Before you could yell you felt hand cover your mouth and a metal object against your head knocking you out.

Dean noticed you taking a bit. He walked into the kitchen to see you where gone. “Y/N?” After no response he seen the door cracked open that went out the back. He looked down to see blood dripping. “SAM! JODY!” They ran in with Maya in their arms. “Jody get Maya and her father out of her as soon as possible. Sam.. We gotta find Y/N..”

You woke up, your head banging like you had just drank a bunch of college students under the table. Your vision was very blurry. Closing your eyes and reopening you sighed. You could tell you where in the nest. “Well, well. If it is not the famous Y/N L/N.” fuck… they knew who you were. “Hanging with the Winchesters huh? Isn’t that a death sentence. Or is it.. that hanging with you is the death sentence.” You winced at the words, causing pain more then any physical. You stayed quite, trying to feel out your restraints. They where hand cuffs, old ones at that. “You aint getting out of those.. They are solid.” Sighing you tried to think of a next plan. “You have killed so many of our kind..” The vampire traced your jaw with his finger. Not moving was starting to anger him, he wanted you to scream, to beg for mercy. Feeling a impact your jaw, you groaned slightly at the pain. Another punch to your lowerbody and another to your ribs. Feeling the crack to your ribs, you wanted to scream out, but you couldn’t. “You know.. my friend in Florida, was the one to kill your friend.. said it was the sweetest blood he ever tasted. He said you rushed in not even twenty seconds after.”  Closing your eyes that image was burned in your brain. Everytime you closed your eyes you seen it. If you had only been quicker.. they would still be alive. Another impact to your ribs caused you to yell out. He hit in the same place, feeing your rib shatter. You deserved this. Deserved everything you where getting. Your friend died.. because of you. Your resolve had broke. Your head hung low. Crack. A blow to you cheek. Crack. A blow to your stomach. Crack. A blow to your stomach once again. You raised your head, remembering little Maya. “You tried to turn that poor girls father…” The vampire smirked, happy you where finally talking “Funny how we just kidnapped you. Thought the Winchesters would be here by now.” You jiggled the hand cuffs a bit and noticed they where rusted in the middle. You slowly twisted them, breaking them half. Not making your move yet you stayed still. “Yeah well like you said.. I am a death sentence..” “Funny, most people say that about the Winchesters..” You looked over to see Dean. Fingers dug in your scalp, not even wincing you looked as the vampire was trying to bite you. You pulled your arms free and ducked, delivering an uppercut. One stronger then Dean had ever seen. You pounced on him, pure adrenaline running in your veins. “My best friend may have died and I will live with that for the rest of my life, but I am not done saving lives.” Dean see tears run down your cheek. Dean ran over and cut the vampires head off. You slowly stood up. Sam appeared “All dead”. You looked at him surprised.

After checking on Jody, you got back to Lukes guest house and took a shower. Your adrenaline was officially gone. Every fiber of your body hurt. You couldn’t breath anymore, your broken ribs pushing against your lungs. You fell against the shower wall and slid down with a thud.  

30 Minutes passed and Dean was wondering what was taking you so long. He needed to ice your wounds. He walked up to your bathroom. He knocked a few times, no answer. His heart started beating through his chest. Spike whimpering at Dean next to the door. Dean tried to open the handle but no luck. He had no time to pick a lock. He kicked open the door seeing you slumped down in the tub. “Y/N?! SAM GET UP HERE NOW!” Dean quickly touched her, the water was ice cold. Your lips where purple and body was pale. He quickly lifted you out of the tub and lifted you on the bed. Grabbing a towel and wiping the water off. He tried hard not to stare at your body too long. Sam rushed in like a bat out of hell. “what happened!?” “She passed out, the water was ice cold.. Sam look at all those bruises.” He seen your ribs where almost black with how bruised they were. Your stomach littered with bruises as well. “Go get Luke and Lily Sam.” He nodded disappearing.  Dean grabbed a blanket and wrapped you up. He pulled you close to him. He took your pulse, it was regulating now.

Soon Lily appeared with an oxygen mask and an I.V. “I am a nurse..” She whispered to Dean. She looked down at her friend and wanted to cry. This was not the first time this happened. However this was worse. She inserted the needle and grabbed some morphine and added to the saline solution. “Dean, I need you to carefully hold her up for me so I can wrap her ribs tight.” Dean nodded carefully lifting you. Whimpering in pain, Lily wrapped you quickly. “Dean… I am toxic… please.. go..” You whispered, barely conscious. “No dice baby girl.” Dean was surprised by his words. He kissed your forehead and rocked you a bit gently back to sleep. “Dean.. you should know why she is so anti people..” Lily sat on the edge of the bed. “She blames the death of her friend on herself. She was literally a few seconds from saving them.. After this happened.. y/n went into a depression.. deep.. deep depression. Spike  and Bobby got her out of it. She drank.. a lot.. She stayed here a bit trying to clear her head. She was drunk a few times. She always apologizes to Luke and I.. But we understand depression. Not hers, but we could see the pain she was in. We didn’t condone the drinking but at least she didn’t harm herself or anyone. She found Spike one day on a walk as just a puppy.. They have been attached ever since.” As soon as Lily said his name Spike walked into the room. He layed his head on the bed, looking at Y/n. Lily petted his head and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Spike, she will be ok. I promise.”

[lia-jones]

Growing Stronger - Chapter Thirty-Six - Preview of What's to Come

It was the day before the big day! Saturday, March 21st. In twenty-four hours my last name would no longer be Jones, and I would officially belong to a new family, one Victor and I were creating for ourselves. A dream come true. I had butterflies in my stomach since I woke up that morning, I could only imagine how I would be on my wedding day.

Victor and I spent most of the day packing and making the last arrangements for our honeymoon. Our conjugal expedition would last a total of two weeks, which I thought was very ambitious, given LFG would be minus a CEO, but Victor was adamant that we took the time to ourselves, since we had been so busy the last few months.

“We need to learn to take time to ourselves.” Victor pointed out once again later that evening, while we drove to Aunt Terry’s ranch for the wedding rehearsal. “I don’t mean just you, me too. I have been solely focused on work for way too long. Our lives are changing, so should we.”

“You are not wrong, but I still think your no phone policy won’t last long. Eventually, Goldman will need something from you. Two weeks is a long time.” I frowned at him.

“At least just for the first three days. I want those to be just for us.” He turned down the familiar dirt road that led to his aunt’s property, stopping the car right at the entrance. “Ready?” He smiled tenderly. I took a deep breath, my heart starting to beat faster.

“Yes.” I nodded with conviction.

The dusky sky was getting darker, the fiery hues being replaced with dark ones, as we drove down the dirt road. It was like I was entering a fairytale. Every tree lining the road was covered in beautiful colored ribbons, and from them hung jars with flickering candles, lighting our way to the mansion. By the gates, two huge golden letters, V and A, signed the place of what would be called by the media the most important event of the year: our wedding. The gates and the walls by them were adorned with beautiful white roses and peonies, and huge lit candles were strategically placed by them, giving the whole area a whimsical atmosphere. The child in me was expecting to see fairies floating about,  like I was watching one of those Tinkerbell movies.

“I think it’s safe to assume you like it.” Victor gave me a smug smile. “You’re yet to say a word.”

I had helped plan some of the wedding, but the big plans were in Victor’s and the wedding planner’s hands, and Victor insisted on keeping some of it a surprise for me. When I looked at the man I loved, my eyes were brimming with tears of joy.

“It’s perfect.” I couldn’t help my wide grin. I was so happy. And seeing him grin back just as wide made things even more perfect.

As we entered the gates and I observed the garden, perfectly illuminated in the now darkening night, I felt my heart fill with joy and love. I was so distracted with my professional life, only awakening slightly to my personal one, that I completely forgot how romantic and magical Victor could be. This was clearly an ode to our love. It had the care and the tenderness I felt from him every day times a million. It was dazzling.

“This weekend, I want you to be surrounded by nothing but joy, beauty, and love.” He spoke with tender eyes looking at me, containing a million emotions, most of which I couldn’t decipher, but one was very clear.

Bernard met us at the door and we strolled around in the garden for a while, admiring in detail what we were sure we wouldn’t be able to the following day, while he showed us every aspect of the decorations. After spending some time with him, his English was starting to sound more normal to me, although peonies were still a serious trigger for my laughter. Noticing that it was getting late, we headed for the wedding venue. The officiant was already expecting us at the gazebo, along with my family and some of Victor’s family, which included his father, some of his aunts and uncles, aunt Terry and her partner, Susan. Gregory didn’t look happy.

The rehearsal was pretty simple, as we assume our positions, my father walking me down the aisle and taking me to Victor, and the usual exchange of vows that we chose to memorize instead of repeat. It was pretty uneventful, but of course, no wedding is a true wedding without a story to tell. And although this was a Lee wedding, held to the highest of standards, ours wouldn’t be an exception.

After we said our vows and pretended to exchange our rings, the officiant made the dreaded declaration that is always so popular in movies: If anyone has reason to be against this wedding, speak now, or forever hold your peace.

This part was so useless nobody was actually paying much attention. That is, until we heard a loud NOOOOOOOOOO coming from the end of the aisle. It turns out, it was Mia’s assistant, Minor, who was playing something on his cellphone and apparently was not having a great game. But that wasn’t actually the funniest part. Gavin, who was sitting by his side, got up ready to fall on him like a boulder, but not before Mia, red as a tomato, got up from Gavin’s side, smacked Minor hard in the stomach, making him double over and let out a loud ooofff.

Victor witnessed it with an expression that screamed What are these idiots doing now? To me, it was the funniest thing I had ever seen since blue penises. I stifled a laugh, noticing Greg watching us closely with judgemental eyes. But, truth be told, I knew what was coming, and I wouldn’t be able to hold it in. Pretending to show affection to my beloved future husband, I leaned my face against his chest, letting myself laugh a little. Noticing it, Victor rubbed my back.

“Quit it, Andrea.” He whispered between clenched teeth. I was lost. Victor’s reprimand only made me laugh more.

“Is she crying?” I heard Terry ask. “Oh, honey, there’s no reason to cry.”

“No.” I heard Victor’s voice, flat as a board. “She’s laughing.” He turned to me. “Ok, enough already. It wasn’t that funny.”

But it was. I replayed the entire scene again in my mind, picturing Minor’s face getting slightly purple with embarrassment and surprise, and tears started to come.

“The little woman…” I heard the officiant’s voice, strained as he tried not to laugh. “For someone so little she sure does pack a punch!” He let out a hearty laugh.

“Just like the bride!” My brother chimed in, laughing, and soon I could hear my parents laugh too.

They say there is nothing as contagious as laughter. One by one, all the guests present started laughing in unison. Even Victor, who was trying to keep it together, threw composure to the wind and was laughing too, his chest rumbling against my cheeks.

When, after some very long minutes, the laughter stopped and I was able to lift my face from Victor’s shirt, Gavin, Mia and Minor were nowhere to be seen, and Gregory was shooting daggers in my direction, a look of disgust on his face. The officiant was still wiping tears from his cheeks, trying to catch a breath.

“I have to say, in 10 years of practice, I have never heard a single objection, let alone such a heartfelt one!” He chuckled. “Well, let’s finish this practice. Does anyone else object to this wedding? If that’s the case, I think we can summon the little woman again!”.

I laughed loudly and the room followed me again. Victor gave the officiant a stern look.

“Skip that part tomorrow.” Victor instructed the officiant.

There is definitely no cleansing power like laughter. We left the rehearsal in good spirits, Victor particularly excited for the next activity.

It is customary for the groom to plan a dinner with all his favorite things before the wedding, usually during rehearsal dinner. My father and Victor were planning this for weeks, constantly talking on the phone or via Skype, constructing the perfect wine tasting dinner. Victor hired three renowned chefs to cook for us that night, one of them being his teacher Guy Sauvant, and some sommeliers to explain the wines and the pairings to the guests.

The decoration of the tent was truly Victor’s taste, and it somehow reminded me of old cellars and antique parlor rooms, intricate iron candle holders and dark velvet sofas and chairs, images of paintings everywhere, decorating the menus, hanging on the walls or in the background of the bars.

We sat and ate, and I noticed how relaxed Victor seemed to be around my family. Although we were trying to give both families the same attention, we would naturally gravitate towards mine, and Victor seemed to enjoy himself more in their presence, either engaging in light conversations with my parents, or laughing at some joke Joshua had made, or simply holding Ana on his lap when she demanded attention. He had clearly been adopted by the Jones, but it seemed he had adopted them too.

Gregory walked up to us while we were laughing about a story my father was telling from one of his trips.

“Greetings to the happy couple. It seems like my son has such a busy life nowadays that he doesn’t  have time to greet his own father.” Gregory shook our hands, his expression as dry as the desert.

“I was waiting for you to finish your meal.” I noticed Victor’s shoulder’s tense as he shook his father’s hand. “I hope everything was to your liking.”

“I can’t say I’m terribly impressed so far.” Gregory gave me a weird look and turned to Victor. “Make sure your fiancée shows a little more restraint tomorrow. We don’t want that ridiculous scene in front of our guests.”

“You mean your guests.” Victor kept his poker face but his ears became red, revealing his anger. “The people I know nothing about and yet you insisted I’d invite.” He gave Gregory a defiant look. “Moreso, please remind yourself that this is Andrea’s wedding too, and she is allowed to laugh as much as she wants, even if that is disagreeable to your guests.”

Gregory took a step further, ready to charge with some venomous words. I held Victor’s hand tight, anticipating a confrontation.

“Gregory!” My mother touched Gregory’s arm amicably. He looked at his arm and then at her, as if he was considering if he had been infected by something. “Have you tried the cherry wine my husband brought? Come, I’ll serve you some while we chat, I would love to know the father that raised this remarkable young man.”

Wise as always, my mother knew that a stroke of Gregory’s ego would be enough to divert his attention. The flattery made him quickly conclude she was worthy of his attention, and both walked away to get the cherry wine. Sitting by my side, Victor was fuming.

“It’s ok, let it go.” I rubbed his upper arm lovingly.

“That’s exactly why I didn’t want him here.” He mumbled, turning at me after. “How are you not angry? He basically implied you were some idiot I should control.”

“I don’t care what he says.” I shrugged. “Besides, he’s the real idiot if he thinks he’s going to ruin my night. You shouldn’t let him ruin yours either.”

Victor nodded, coming closer for a short sweet kiss. We heard a soft clink from afar. It was my brother, in the center of the room, gathering everyone’s attention.

“Good evening, everyone. For those who don’t know me, my name is Joshua, and I’m Andrea’s twin brother. If you are wondering if that is actually true, because I’m taller and better looking, yes we are twins, no, I didn’t steal all the food in the womb, and yes, despite being the second born, I am the best twin.”

Everybody, especially my family laughed, while I playfully stuck out my tongue to my brother, Victor chuckling with the both of us.

“Hmmm… So what can I say about the bride and the groom? I’ll start with the bride, since I know her since we were two fertilized eggs inside my mother's womb.” Josh continued. ”Growing up, Andrea was a tomboy, refusing to live up to her gender role, always defying the rules and sticking true to what she believed in. I remember at a relative’s wedding, we were eight at the time, she tore her dress trying to show some ‘snotty boy,’” he used air quotes, “that girls could climb trees just as well as boys. The dress caught up in one of the branches and ripped apart, as Andrea dangled happily in one of the branches, her underwear showing.” There was another wave of laughter in the room. “My mother was livid but didn’t ground her, because she did climb the tree faster than the boy, even with her dress tearing apart. And even though she now is a respectable lady of the elite, and such dress ripping habits are frowned upon, I am sure she will still be the Andrea I’ve always known, a small yet concentrated force of nature, defying everyone that tries to put her down and showing us all there can be incredible strength in adversity.” Joshua’s throat caught up with emotion. “I’m so incredibly proud of you, sis.” He turned to Victor. “Now what can we say about our CEO.”

“This should be good.” Victor spoke to me, his flat voice not matching the smile he had in his eyes.

“Perhaps our groom doesn’t know this, but we had heard of him way before the two started dating. The truth was, Andy originally didn’t like Victor very much. Well, that’s an understatement. Every time she referred to him, she used some very original terms. My two favorite still are “Lord Victor, King of Highhorseland” and “Victor Lee, the Slayer of Souls and Destroyer of Joy”.

Again, everybody laughed, including Victor, but he still gave me a dirty look. I could feel myself seriously blush.

“That was before I knew the real you, you know that.” I defended myself. He simply smiled and softly rubbed his nose against mine.

“But the mighty King of Highhorseland must’ve done something right and somehow convince damsel Andrea to ride with him because, to our surprise, he flew across the ocean for about twelve hours just to see Andy defend her thesis and… they seemed pretty intimate, if you know what I mean. And that’s when I found out three undeniable truths about my future brother in law: one, he is persistent, because I bet it was no picnic trying to woo this one.”

Victor shook his head and everybody laughed. Thank you, dear brother.

“Two, he is caring and extremely giving. He flew from a distant country, ready to face our family and Dr. Mariana’s thorough interrogation, just to make my sister happy. And by the way they held each other, the way she looked at him, she was. It’s obvious you make my sister very happy Victor, and I have to thank you for that. Thank you for taking such good care of her.” Joshua was misty-eyed again. “And three!” Joshua cleared his throat. “Victor is a very strong man. Not only did he date hurricane Andrea, he’s marrying her. Now seriously, I wish the best to both of you! Victor, welcome to the family!”

Everybody clapped and we nodded, thanking them for the applause and the best wishes, although it was more of a roast than a best wish speech. Either way, it was the way my brother would say I love you , through comedy and sarcasm, a mask not very different from the one Victor wore with his poker face. Goldman stood up, and took the mic from Joshua.

“Victor, Andrea, it is with great joy that I come here to witness your commitment, and what I believe is the beginning of a lifetime of happiness. I still remember the first day Andy came to LFG and thinking she wouldn’t last a day there. But she was a pleasant surprise, manning the desk in no time and impressing us all. Apart from some minor mishaps with a fountain pen.”

I looked at Victor with wide eyes, feeling like a burglar caught red-handed. Way back when, when I started my internship at LFG and was moved to Victor’s office, I accidentally broke his favorite fountain pen. It was a stupid accident, I unwittingly threw it to the ground while getting some documents from his desk and stepped on it. As I saw the ink spread on what seemed to be a brand new rug, my heart nearly stopped. Fortunately, Goldman entered the room, and, seeing the panic in my eyes, he swiftly exchanged the broken pen with a new one from his front pocket, and spilled coffee on the ink stain to hide my crime. And soon we were partners in crime, joined in a secret that, if revealed, would make Victor have my head.

It looked like it was time for my punishment. I just hoped the wedding would reduce my sentence.

“Stop acting so nervous.” He smiled at me. “I knew it was  you all along.”

“YOU DID?!” I was appalled. “How? Why didn’t you say anything?” He kept quiet this whole time, letting me live with the guilt?

“Unless Goldman was trying to poison me, coffee isn’t blue. And I could tell the pen I was using was brand new. After that, it was a matter of finding out who truly did it. The guilty look on your face the next morning was the final clue.” He came closer, pecking the tip of my nose. “I knew that if I mentioned you would feel bad, and most likely want to leave LFG again. I couldn’t allow that.”

I smiled at him, my heart warm for knowing he wanted me close to him since the very start. We turned to Goldman, who was still giving his speech.

“... a good man, with a heart made of gold. Yes, he may sometimes be demanding, but he is that way for the good of the company and to allow us to keep our jobs. And Andy has changed him deeply in that department as well, he’s very different from what he used to be. I mean, when I started seeing him so happy I started tasting all his drinks, fearing she was putting something in them.”

“WHAT?” I heard Victor shout by my side, making me laugh hard when I saw his disgusted expression.

“And I should probably finish my speech, if I still want to keep my job. Let’s hear it for the happy couple! A happy life for you two!” Goldman rushed to finish. Needless to say, everybody laughed.

After a few more shorts speeches, with guests wishing us a happy life, gushing about how Victor and I looked cute together, some more lively music started playing. Victor and I sat in one of the sofa’s bantering with my parents, his hand on my waist, holding me lovingly, while I occasionally nudged his chest with my head. Eventually, Terry and Susan came to sit with us.

“Are you enjoying yourselves?” Victor asked.

“Actually, I would like to thank you both for inviting me to the wedding.” Susan spoke. “It means a lot to us.”

“No need.” Victor answered with a frank smile. “My pleasure.”

“I’m just sorry I was so oblivious before.” I chimed in, slightly embarrassed. “I didn’t even invite Susan to my bachelor party.”

“It’s alright.” Terry took my hand, turning it. “I can predict a double date in the near future, after you are done honeymooning.”

“That will take a while.” Victor joked.

“What is this I’m hearing now? Terry’s assistant is invited? Is it the theme of this wedding to display the stains of this family for the whole world to see?” We heard Victor’s father say, behind us.

“I have invited them.” I stood up, facing him. “If she’s with your sister, she’s part of the family.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Gregory spat. “You are definitely unfit to be a Lee. You lack the decorum, the finesse-”

“Ok, enough.” My mother approached us, trying to lighten the mood. “We don’t want to start a fight here, Gregory, our kids are getting married tomorrow.” She paused, holding her hands up, urging us all to calm down. “Let’s all get some sleep, tomorrow we’ll all have a big day. Agreed?”

“Either she goes, or I go. You choose.” Gregory warned Victor. Victor was about to retort when my mother intervened again.

“Please, no need to choose.” She looked at Gregory warmly. “This isn’t about any of us, it’s about Victor and Andrea. Let’s get some sleep, come on. Off you go, guys.”

“Do you still think it was a good idea to invite him?” Victor sighed, frustrated, as we walked towards the house.

“Hey, stop worrying about it.” I held his bicep, squeezing it tight. “Tomorrow we will have the wedding and we will be too busy to even know he’s there, and he won’t dare misbehave with all the media around him. And after that, we will only deal with him if we want to. It’ll be over soon.”

“You are right. He will forget all about us the moment all of this ends.” He smiled at me as we walked in, heading to my bedroom. “Go get your things and come sleep with me.”

“No, we should spend this night apart.” I smiled, stroking his chest lovingly. “To make it more special the night after the wedding.”

“We’ll spend the night after the wedding on a plane to Paris.” He grabbed my waist, pulling me closer, luring me in. “Come sleep with me, I can’t sleep without you.” He kissed my neck softly, teasing me.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Lee, but my answer is no.” I pushed him away playfully, only to get a sigh in response. “I’m saving myself for marriage.”

“You can’t even say that with a straight face.” He gave me a flat expression, which only made me laugh.

“I bid you goodnight.” I pecked him on the cheek. “Sleep well.”

Obviously, I wouldn’t get away with it. He pulled me against him once more, kissing me so passionately I had no choice but to melt in his arms.

“Fine.” He broke the kiss and let me go, chuckling when I slightly whimpered. “No, no, don't complain. My fiancée wants to sleep away from me and her wishes are my command. She shall sleep alone tonight.”

Later that night, alone in my bed, I was tossing and turning. Not only did I miss my bed, but mostly I missed Victor, his touch, his smell, his warmth. This was going to be a lot harder than I thought. With a heavy sigh of resignation, I opened my bedroom door and left, taking my pillow with me. Time to get some sleep.

[ritebeforeyoureyes]

Confessions

I was thinking of writing some one-shots and drabbles, would that be something that you guys would be interested in reading? 

Plot: Zendaya has a talk with her stalker. 

Confessions (Chapter Twelve)

Kidnapping, it’s such a foreign concept. It’s not the type of thing that you associate with yourself. It’s what you see in the movies, overly dramatized and stupidly written. You’re always the spectator, watching from the outside, judging: why didn’t she just fight harder? How did she not see her attacker so obviously stood there? Why did she walk out of the house by herself?

As Zendaya felt the vehicle move, she asked herself the same questions over and over again. The longer she sat in the car, the more she began to panic. She couldn’t see a thing and her heart was thumping erratically from within her chest. She was scared, petrified, even more so because nobody would come looking for her … not for a good while at least. Tom would just think her absence was her needing space after their dispute earlier and consequently, everybody else would think the same - Zendaya and Tom had a fight and she just needed some time to herself, time to cool off. Zendaya cursed at herself for being so stupid, her mind suddenly going blank as the car she was in, stopped abruptly.

“Get out.” Zendaya heard the car door on her side open. This was the first time she was hearing her attacker speak and she froze, shocked. She didn’t recognise the voice but that was done purposely; his voice was masked. At this point in time, she could definitely confirm that he was male, but his voice had been disguised by an app or device of some sort. He just sounded like the stereotypical villain from a movie. It made Zendaya wonder; did she know this person? If it was just a stranger, his voice wouldn’t be that much of a giveaway … it had to be someone she knew, and somebody she knew well. “I said get out.” He grabbed at her elbow and yanked her out of the car. She was certain his hold had left marks on her skin but at this point in time, she couldn’t care less. Some marks on her arm would probably be the smallest of the injuries she would obtain today.

As Zendaya stumbled out of the car, her body lifelessly being thrown about, she tripped over her feet and landed on her knees ungracefully. She could feel her skin tear, but she’d experienced worse pain; her mind barely registered the trickles of blood down her legs. A few seconds after falling, her captor hauled her up into the air, pausing as if to see if her injuries weren’t substantial before thrusting her into some open space. Zendaya stumbled into a hard chair and she could feel the lingering of a presence awfully close to her. Her breathing hitched as she felt a person inhale and exhale near her neck before they reached into her mouth and pulled the gauze out. He tied her arms behind the back of the chair and took a few audible steps back. On first instinct, Zendaya screamed. With all the energy she could muster, she let out a gut-wrenching scream that she was certain would have to grab some passer-by’s attention.

“Help!” She screeched, her mouth numb and chemical tasting after the gauze had been removed. There was a metallic taste that lingered on her taste buds and she wasn’t sure if it was the gauze or whether she’d been chewing down on her tongue so hard that it had drawn blood. “Somebody help me!”

“Scream all you want, nobody can hear you.” Sadist - Zendaya could all most hear the smile in his voice and she struggled against the constraints placed against her. Of course, this guy wasn’t an amateur, his plan must have been well thought out and honestly, Zendaya didn’t know how long they’d been driving for. She could be miles away from civilisation for all she knew, in some dingy workshop that had been unoccupied for decades.

“What the fuck do you want from me?” She cursed, the anger still lingering in her. Yes, she was scared of her kidnapper but the devil on her shoulder wanted to know, why her? She prided herself in trying to be a good person so why was this person so hellbent on making her life torture? Why did he just have an agenda against her? “Huh? What am I to you?”

“Look-” Zendaya heard a scrap against the floor and she presumed her captor had pulled up a seat to sit in front of her. Her bloody knees brushed against his, and she subconsciously pushed herself backwards; his touch made her half naked body feel dirty. Her posture changed as she remembered she was still just in a bikini and a blindfold. She cowered into herself protectively, helplessly. “I don’t want to hurt you, okay? I would never hurt you.” The sudden sombreness in her stalker’s words surprised her and Zendaya paused, her mouth opening and closing as she attempted to gather her fleeting thoughts.

“What … what do you want from me then? Money, fifteen minutes of fame-“ Zendaya would give him money, whatever she had, if it meant he would leave her alone.

“I’m not here for the money, I just want you to understand!” The voice was booming and Zendaya winced at the volume. “Why can’t you just understand?”

“Understand what?” Her kidnapper was talking in cryptic tones, all most as if he was talking to himself, and Zendaya didn’t really know what to think.

“I need you to understand that things won’t work out the way that they are meant to if you don’t listen to me!” Zendaya heard a loud crash that made her jump, with her eye sight constricted, she presumed he’d thrown something in reaction to Zendaya’s defiance to his threats. He had threatened Zendaya to break up with Tom and she hadn’t been able to, the thought of not having Tom in her life made her more scared than the man in front of her. “I told you and I told that little British fuck, what would happen if neither of you listened to me. I didn’t want to do this but it was the only way to make you take me seriously so, I’m going to say it again-“

“Why? Why are you doing this?” Zendaya felt her tears fight against the blindfold, the briny liquid seeping through the silky material. “Why do you hate me?”

“I don’t hate you, Zendaya.” The man inhaled and exhaled deeply before speaking again. “But I hate him.” Zendaya knew who he was referring to, the venom evidently dripping from his voice. “He’s not the man for you which means he’s got to go-“ Zendaya’s cries were loud now, definitively audible and that didn’t seem to go down well with the man who was threatening her. His tone was sharp and snippy again. “I mean it, Zendaya, end things with him or all of the pictures I have of you will miraculously find their way onto the world wide web.”

“Please-“

“You have two weeks. If, in that time, Tom is still in your life, the pictures get released.” Zendaya’s breathing halted. Despite him threatening her for a week or so now, he had never given her a time restraint … now that she knew, for a fact, that her and Tom had a limited number of days it made her heart ache. “Think of your parents, Z … what would good ol’ Daddy Kazembe think of old men touching themselves to pictures of his daughter, huh? And what about Grandma Daphne, I’m sure that would give her the final kick into her grave-”

“Stop! Just stop it!” Zendaya’s eyes wrenched closed tightly. Whoever this person was had now confirmed that they were close to her and her family. Zendaya had once publicised that her Nana Daphne had breast cancer on Dancing With The Stars but the topic of her health hadn’t been brought up since, that was years ago! Only her closest friends and family knew that her Grandma was still suffering from cancer, the reference to her Grandma couldn’t have been a coincidence. This person knew more than they were letting on.

“I guess I’ve made myself clear then.” Once again, Zendaya could hear the smirk in his voice; it made her sick. “The clock’s ticking, you have two weeks.” Zendaya felt him tug at her elbow again and as she was suddenly hauled up, her mouth widened in surprise. Like earlier, her captor took this opportunity to stuff the gauze back into her mouth. “I know I said I wouldn’t hurt you, but this is necessary, honeybee, I’m sorry.” The chemically taste in Zendaya’s mouth returned but this time, it was a lot stronger - her gauze had been drugged. But as she was placed back into the car, all Zendaya could hazily think about was … why did the endearing term honeybee sound so familiar? She had heard it before, but she couldn’t pinpoint where. She tried to focus her attention on why it rang a bell, but nothing seemed to come out concrete.

And before she knew it, she was out, cold.

It may have been a few minutes, hours, days … but when Zendaya woke up she was right where her captor had picked her up from, outside Haz’s villa. The sky had darkened significantly, and a chill ran through her body. She’d been lying out on the floor and the blood on her legs had dried. She still felt really hazy and as she stood, she felt her whole-body sway. The music coming from inside the villa indicated that the party was still in full swing but Zendaya knew she needed to get in there. Her temperature had slipped unhealthily and with her head cloudy and her legs stumbling, she used the assistance of the porch railing to lift her body to the front door. It took a lot out of her and she barely made it inside before her lifeless body plunged into another’s.

“Z?” The voice was instantly recognisable and Zendaya wanted to cling to Harrison for dear life. She had never felt such a relief in her life. “Are you okay? What happened?” As soon as Harrison caught her, he knew something was wrong. Her body was freezing and as they pulled apart he looked over her stained legs, her glossed over eyes and the bruises on her elbow; something was definitely wrong.

“Tom.” Zendaya managed to spit out, her body swinging out of tune to the music. Her head fell against his shoulder and she mumbled into his ear before letting her eyes flutter shut.  “Need Tom.”

Fight or no fight, if Zendaya only had two weeks with Tom, she was going to cling to him.