#its clear when she uses it people still have this slight apprehension and fear of her almost

[lexa-griffins]

Elaina lets her baby brothers play with her raccoon plushie to soothe them when they're crying

🥺🥺 Elaina gets really distressed when her baby brothers' cry, specially if its when she's playing with them or watching as Lexa nurses them. She hates it. They aren't criers so it makes her even more alarmed and she has come to learn that her little raccoon seems to help soothe them, they'll just grab it and snuggle with it. She always gives it to them, no questions asked.

Lexa whispers to her that's probably because it smell like her and they know their big sister will always make sure they are okay. Elaina looks very pensive at this and replies that she thinks they like it because they think it reminds them of Lexa too.

The idea that her daughter and her sons all gine comfort in a little stuffed animal that they associate with her? It just makes Lexa all warm 🥹

[moonlightlilygarden]

The Wishing Well

Once upon a time, there was a well deep within the forest next to a village. It had at one point been the source of water for the people that lived there, but it was abandoned when water sprung up just inside the town. As the years passed, parents made up stories about the monstrous creatures that lived in the woods so as to keep their children from wandering too far beyond the forest’s border. It was these tales that spurred the older children into tests of bravery and the younger into nightmares.

One day as the sun began to kiss the earth, a young boy chased after his friends into the woods, laughing and calling after them the whole way. As long as they stayed close enough to the edge that they could see the village through the tall, thin trees, going into the forest was not a frightful thing. Ambushing the boy, the two friends covered his eyes with his own hands and spun him in circles. “Come and find us!” they called, circling around him before racing back toward the village. The boy kept his eyes closed and chased after their circling voices. Almost tripping over a tree root, he laughed and opened his eyes. Not seeing his village in the direction he was going, he turned around to return home.

But he could no longer see his village through the trees.

Perhaps his friends were still close by. He called out to them, raising his voice even louder when they didn’t respond. Even though the sun had set, he searched the ground, trying to find the shadows that would tell him the sun’s direction and the way to the village. Seeing the slight length of the nearest shadow, he walked in the opposite direction, cautiously confident of his decision.

As the minutes passed and no village appeared, the boy grew apprehensive. The trees of the forest may have been skinny, but their foliage consumed the sky, shrouding the land in a kind of dark the boy had never experienced before. Knowing he must be walking farther into the forest, he stopped and sat beneath a tree that looked exactly the same as all of the others. If he just stayed there, he thought, someone would find him. Surely the people of his village were already looking for him. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on the sounds around him, listening for his name being called.

A shifting of last Autumn’s leaves to his right.

A branch creaking far above his head.

His mind wandered to his mother’s frantic whispers in the dark, careening in tones of mystery and fright as she wove stories of the monsters that lurked in the woods.

The screams of a mouse lifting up into the sky.

The crack of an old branch splitting from its mother and falling to the ground.

A steady crunch of pebbles and dirt.

Footsteps! The boy darted to his left, hoping beyond hope that someone had come to his rescue. Breaking into a small clearing, the boy opened his mouth to call out, only to have his voice vanish and his body take a step back in fear.

Before him stood a tall figure, cloaked in robes the color of midnight shadows. The boy may not have even seen him if it wasn’t for the sliver of moonlight that leaked through the leaves and gleamed off of the figure’s slowly moving hands. It wasn’t until those pale, thin hands grasped the bucket that the boy realized the figure was stooped over an old well. The boy wanted to run, but the figure had already inclined his head in the boy’s direction.

They are human hands, the boy reasoned with himself. This is just a man. Fighting his body’s desire to run, the boy took a step forward. Then another. Just a man, he thought. Standing before the cloaked figured, the boy attempted speech but failed.

A wrinkled hand reached out to the boy’s face and the small body prepared once again to run, but was frozen in place. With the palm against the face and the thumb pointed to the ground, the hand slid slowly and softly from the boy’s forehead to his chin. When it crossed his lips, the man in the cloak spoke.

“I am hungry.”

The hand left the boy’s face and the cloaked figure picked up the bucket and walked back into the forest.

The deer trail that had once been a solid path still connected the well and the village. It was by following this trail that the boy was able to return to his home. Although the welcome from his parents was joyous, he couldn’t get the strange man in the cloak out of his head. He haunted the boy’s dreams that night, but the fright was erased from them and all that remained were the words.

“I am hungry.”

In the brightness of day, the woods didn’t seem nearly as terrifying as they had been the night before, or so the boy thought as he followed the trail back to the well. The birds sung just as they did on the branches of the trees in the town. The animals went about their business just as the humans did. Nothing seemed odd or out of place.

The well, when the boy approached it, looked almost cheerful with the spattering of sunlight on its moss covered stones. Allowing the sun to warm his skin, the boy placed an apple on the edge of the well. He looked at it, wondering what leaving an apple for the cloaked figure would accomplish. With a shrug he turned back to the path and started home. It didn’t matter if it accomplished anything, he decided. He felt more at ease just by doing it.

The rest of the day seemed easy for the boy. Chores were simple and almost enjoyable. His mother baked him a small pie. Even the boys who had left him in the woods were apologetic and eager to win his favor back. He had, after all, spent almost an entire night in the woods and had survived the monsters.

When the sun started to go down, the easiness began to vanish and a peculiar kind of curiosity took its place. He wanted to know if the cloaked man had taken the apple. What did it matter? He tried to reason with himself, but there was no satisfying the urge to return to the well. To settle his nerves, he decided that if he still felt this way in the morning, he would return to the well in the daylight and see if the apple was gone.

Waking just as the sun was high enough to enter his room, the boy bounded out of bed and rushed out of the house. He had had a terrible time trying to sleep the night before as his curiosity gnawed at the edges of his dreams.

He wasted no time with shoes or shirt and raced down the path that his feet were beginning to memorize. He caught a glimpse of the well just before the trees broke into the clearing.

The apple was gone!

The boy’s face stretched into an excited smile as he approached the well. The cloaked man had taken the apple!

No, he reasoned. A deer could have stolen it.

Or it could have fallen into the well!

The boy rushed forward and leaned into the opening. The darkness was as deep as the night had been in this forest. He could see no bottom. He could see no apple.

As he leaned back away from the opening, a glint on the well’s lip caught his eye. A small silver coin rested on the stone exactly where the apple had been placed. The boy took it up with excitement. The man really had taken it! Strange markings lined the coin’s faces but the boy merely glanced at them before placing the coin in his pocket and returning home.

Every day that week the boy left an apple at the well in the forest for the strange man in the cloak of midnight shadows. And every day the apple would still be there the next day. No new coins were left at the well and no other strange presents appeared there. Soon the boy stopped making his daily trip and life returned to normal for him in the village.

Life seemed to be blessing the boy and his family. His mother began baking his favorite pie for him whenever he wished for it and the boys who used to play tricks on him stayed far away when he told them to. His father’s livestock grew healthier and everyone in the family was happier for it.

The coin remained in the boy’s pocket for so long, he forgot about it.

One day the boy awoke with a fever and was ordered by his mother to stay in bed. The day outside his window was warm and sunny with only a few spots of clouds in the heavens. The people of the town bustled along happily, carrying out their day with energy and enthusiasm.

It disgusted the boy.

If he was sick in bed, the boy wished, everyone in the town should be sick too.

Seeking escape in his pillow, the boy fell back asleep.

It was midafternoon when the boy finally opened his eyes again. The birds were still chirping in the trees under the bright sun, but the people of the village seemed strange. Their bodies moved sluggishly and with great effort. The boy supposed the day was wearing on and so everyone was preparing for the evening. Feeling better, the boy slid out of his bed and wandered into the kitchen where his mother was busy preparing the evening meal. She jumped when he called out to her and she held her hand to her heart as if to keep it from bursting through her chest. Dismissing her surprise, she rushed to his side and felt his forehead, nodding when she was satisfied that his fever had receded. Sitting down at the table, the boy waited for supper to be done.

His father came in not long after, looking as worn as the town did. He told his wife and child about how everyone in the village suddenly became sick. The village elders and young children were on their deathbeds if they hadn’t died already as the babies had. The boy’s eyes were wide when his father left the room to get cleaned up. Hadn’t he wished for everyone in the town to be sick like him earlier?

To test his theory, he quietly wished that his mother was no longer sick. He watched as her back straightened and her head lifted. She exclaimed at her sudden change of health and continued making dinner with her usual enthusiasm. Calling out to his mother, he ran from the house, promising a quick return.

Running down the path in the forest, the boy removed the coin from his pocket. He realized the pies, the distance from his rival boys, the health of his family’s cattle, had been because he had wished for it. But his wishes had only started coming true after he found the coin. He had to get rid of it.

Reaching the well at last, the boy looked at the coin and made two last wishes.

He wished for the people of the village to return to their normal healthy selves.

He wished for no one to find the coin ever again.

With a reluctance he had not known he had, he held the coin above the well and struggled to let it drop from his hand.

Finally, his body obeyed and the coin dropped soundlessly into the forest’s well.

[floral-and-fine]

Linger part 1

Beorn x female human reader

Summary: Beorn worries about the reader's safety shortly after meeting her and the company.

A/n: This idea is based on that deleted scene where Gandalf introduces the company to Beorn. I just love that scene so much! I'll probably write another part to this. And thank you @luna-xial​ for the help!

You jumped every time you heard the loud hollow thud the ax made as it connected to the tree trunk. Peeking through the window, you saw a beast of a man. He was taller than anyone you had ever seen before, with long wild hair.

With seemingly minimal effort, he swung the large ax again, splitting another log straight through the middle like it was made of butter.

Your body shivered, imagining how he could easily make quick work of the company if he chose. Not to mention, if last night was any kind of example, it would seem he wasn’t too keen on any of you.

The rest of the company were bickering about what to do next. They were all rather cautious or afraid of the skin-changer, and they had reason to be. The bear all of you encountered last night was large, fast, and fearsome. The man seemed to be the same.

It was no use listening to them though, they all talked over one another and they were getting louder by the second.

Instead, you focused on watching your mysterious host chop firewood without pause. Your face began to heat up as you noted the way his back muscles tensed as he lifted the ax again, preparing for another swing.

“There’s no point in arguing,” Gandalf spoke up, silencing everyone. With all eyes on him, the wizard explained that the company needed Beorn’s assistance.

“Now this will require some delicate handling. We must tread very carefully the last person to have startled him was torn to shreds,” he explained heading towards the door. All eyes followed Gandalf, especially at the mention of being torn to shreds.  “I will go first, and Bilbo, you’ll come with me.”

No one was envious of poor Bilbo as they all made room for him to get to the door.

“Is-is this a good idea?” Bilbo stuttered, his hesitation obvious about joining Gandalf outside.

“Yes,” Gandalf answered firmly. “Now the rest of you wait here,” he instructed. “Only come out in pairs, well Bombur you count as two, so come out alone.”

Just as he was about to head out through the door, he paused and turned back around. “Oh and Ms. Y/n, you will be the last to come out,” He added, facing you.

Your eyes went wide, but you nodded.

“Yes… That should be fine,” Gandalf muttered mostly to himself.

“Should?” You squeaked, but he didn’t hear you. He was far too preoccupied worrying about greeting your host.

“Remember, wait for the signal,” Gandalf warned one last time before heading out.

…

The rest of the company filed out, leaving you and Thorin as the last ones to exit.

Beorn didn’t hide his distaste as he stared down all the dwarves before him. A snarl practically formed on his face as his eyes reached the end of the line. However, his features immediately softened as soon as he spotted you.

Gandalf noticed the immediate change in their host’s expression. “Ah, and that’s Miss y/n,” he spoke up. “She’s one of our companions as well.”

You waved shyly at the skin-changer. Who slowly lowered his ax, setting it down beside him.

The giant man sighed, wringing his hands together. Beorn’s eyes flickered from you to the dwarves then back to you again. He was obviously mulling things over, trying to decide what to do with his unexpected house guests.

With a drawn-out sigh, Beorn walked past Gandalf and approached the company.

“You must be hungry,” He said looking directly at you.

“Oh, we’re starving,” one of the dwarves chimed in, but Beorn chose to ignore your companions. His focus solely remained on you, patiently awaiting an answer.

“A little,” you admitted with a shrug, feeling rather bashful over the attention.

With a curt nod, he ushered you forward, back into his home. Beorn gestured for you to take a seat at the table.

“Your home is beautiful,” you complimented, admiring the beautiful details carved in the wood. You didn’t get a chance last night or this morning to really take in the craftsmanship. There were a lot of fine details that must have taken a lot of time and skill to complete.

He gave you a soft smile but it only lingered for a brief second and was replaced with a frown as soon your companions started taking their seats beside you and around the table.

Beorn started placing food out, everything looked so delicious. There were various cheeses, fruits, nuts, and types of bread.

Your host made sure that your plate was full first, not trusting that the greedy dwarves would be considerate of someone as soft-spoken and kind as yourself.

He didn’t understand how you were a part of this company, how someone as well mannered and delicate was associated with such loud brutes. You didn’t appear to be a warrior of any sort, and you weren’t a dwarf, so why were you assisting them at all?

You observed Beorn carefully as he towered over you, despite his great stature and strength, he was cautious of his movements, and despite his obvious dislike of dwarves, he was still fairly hospitable. Being in his presence had you feeling quite small, not in a bad way, necessarily, in fact, almost as if you were made of glass with the way he treated you so attentively.

Holding a large pitcher, he poured milk in your cup first giving you a generous amount which you doubted you would be able to finish.

“Thank you,” you murmured as he moved on to the next cup.

After making his way around the table and back to you, he held the pitcher in both hands, looking down pensively as he shared what had happened to him and his people.

His story made your heartache, much like it did when your companions shared their story. Without thinking, you reached out placing your hand on his forearm in an effort to comfort him. You couldn’t imagine what he had gone through, what he had to do to survive, or how it felt to be the last of his kind.

When he offered his assistance to Thorin, you were honestly surprised.

Beorn provided provisions and ponies to the company in order to get all of you to the forest in time.

…

As the company started preparing the ponies for travel, you couldn’t help but notice Beorn acting apprehensively. He was pacing about, double checking things, and kept asking Gandalf if they needed anything else.

You approached him quietly clearing your throat to draw his attention towards you.

“Thank you for everything,” you said, smiling sweetly at him. “I know it’s not easy, dwarves might seem unappreciative and careless but I do think they’re grateful.”

Beorn sighed, taking your hand in his, his thumb caressing lightly over your knuckles.

“Must you leave with them?” He asked, his voice sounding rather defeated.

“I made a promise.”

“It’s not safe,” Beorn whispered, feeling how delicate the bones of your hand were and soft your skin. “I know what Azog is capable of…”

Beorn wasn’t quite sure why, but he cared for you, and he truly feared what might happen to you on this journey. He hasn’t known anyone like yourself to encounter an orc in which the outcome wasn’t death. He frowned at the idea, the unsettling image of the hand he was holding lifeless and limp appearing in his mind.  

Tilting your head you whispered his name, he had gone quiet but appeared to have something else to say.

He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again, shaking his head slightly. “Is there nothing I can say to change your mind?” He asked, almost on the verge of begging.

“I’m afraid not,” you said, giving his hand a slight squeeze.

His expression conveyed his disappointment, but he nodded, accepting that you had to leave and finally dropping the subject. Slowly, Beorn led you back to where the ponies were and reluctantly released your hand.

Without another word, he walked back towards his home. He wasn’t good at saying goodbye and was struggling with the fact that you were leaving. He felt like he was allowing you to walk straight to your death.

Before mounting your pony, you took a deep breath and looked around one last time, really taking in the scenery, before leaving. This place really was beautiful, so serene and peaceful. Might be the last time you’re at a place like this, who knows what you might encounter next.

As your pony slowly started trodding along, you turned back to see Beorn, who was standing by his garden with a solemn expression, you wondered if he felt lonely out here alone with just his animals.

You wouldn’t mind visiting him again after this was all over, maybe spend a longer visit here, perhaps even help him out with the garden or the animals.

You waved goodbye, a small sad smile on your lips. He gave you a small nod in response watching as you and the company disappeared past the horizon.

He fought every urge he had to go after you. Trying to convince himself that you would be fine. You had managed to get this far more or less unscathed.

Beorn stayed outside, working on the fields and tending to his animals until his ponies finally returned. He led them back to the barn, making sure they were all accounted for. Lingering by the pony you rode, he ran his hand through its mane.

“I wish she had stayed,” he admitted, regretting that he let you go or didn’t offer to join the company in order to protect you. He gave the pony another good pat before heading into his home.

[sassooda]

Worlds Away JJK AU / Chapter 36 - No Longer Alone 🔞

w/c - 7,680

               “Kokoro really was a fool…I almost feel sorry.” Genghis is in the mood to celebrate as he quietly snickers through the Titer compound, planning to share the news with Getou. He passes through a crowded windowless but well-lit room heading towards the southern bunker. Nearly all of the clansmen and women bow to his presence as he cheerfully ambulates through their earthy corridors, submitting their trust into him. He enjoys the gestured acclaim, knowing full well this position being his was long overdue. After searching over the room joyfully, he becomes momentarily sidetracked as his first turbulent encounter ensues. The young Titer that served Mugoi before appears in front of him, blocking Genghis’s direct path. ‘Now to reform these loose ends…’, he thinks to himself as he assesses the young Titer’s despair. “You there, what is your name?” Genghis sees the hatred in the young man’s face.

               “…Itgeltei.”, is all the young man offers while still trying to remain fearless in front of the now most masterful man of the clan. “Itgeltei Baidal.”. His chin-length black hair waves with the wind as his deep brown eyes feign revenge.

               Genghis smirks to the spiteful response, understanding that the poor wretch has lost his own mentor and is raging with emotions. “You can come with me now, there is still much work to be done.” He motions for the young Titer to follow him but the single energized stomp in response makes him halt his resumed stance.

               “YOU KILLED MASTER KOKORO!” Baidal surges his energy and aims it at Genghis with tear filled eyes. “…and my SISTER!” His shaking limbs continue to quake as he takes a deep breath and prepares to at least injure the newly appointed head before being killed himself. “You have to pa-…”.

               Genghis, without lifting a finger, uses his presence to immediately suffocate the young man who is now clear with regret. “I certainly did not kill Mugoi or Okhin, that was the enemy.” The fear pricks its way to the surface as the young Titer now seems to recognize exactly how unmatched he is and this entertains Genghis, “See, I never inherited the ancient techniques but I’m the top dog now for a reason…”, Genghis slowly approaches while Baidal chokes, surely feeling compressed as he opens his mouth to breathe but is unable to suction in any air. “…I have learned other ways to instill my goals.”. After reaching the young Titer, he looks around to all of the surveyors that stand winded with horror. “YOU ALL UNDERSTAND WHO IS IN CHARGE NOW, RIGHT?!”. Genghis darts his eyes back to Baidal who’s face has since turned red and puffed from the lack of oxygen while he continues to struggle. A woman near the door cries, “Yes! We do Master Genghis!”, and all of the Titers before him that are able, drop to the floor to offer an extensive bow. “Alright then!”, Genghis releases the young Titer with a smile and watches him crash to his knees, gasping. Genghis kneels down before him and holds out a hand, “If you’re willing to redirect your hatred to the right place, you can still serve your clan to the upmost, Baidal.”, but he’s met with still resentful eyes and understands that the young man will need time to decide his own fate as his hand is swatted away. “If you cannot however, you serve no purpose at all. Consider my offer.”. Genghis then turns to continue walking to Getou before the young man did something hasty, not wanting a scene to erupt with so many witnesses.

               After Genghis leaves that corridor, Baidal hunts the room for any indication that he had supporters on the matter but feels completely alone as everyone looks down or simply continues with their business. ‘He may be powerful but he needs to be stopped.’, Baidal’s frustration peaks as he’s still trying to regain his breath, knowing that Genghis could have crushed him if he wanted to. Beneath his heaving he mutters the words that would have caused him death had they been heard, “He was supposed to stay locked away.”. Only by being Kokoro’s understudy did he become privy to the horrifying information of Genghis’s past and the true reason he was sent to death by the hands of Satoru Gojo to begin with. Baidal knows that there was never any love between himself and Getou, being that Kokoro committed atrocities himself. ‘I have to find allies…’, knowing he may have to outsource beyond his clan in order to have the backing necessary. ‘What does he have planned for Master Getou?’. Baidal thinks to check a few more friends before leaving the compound, his anxieties feeling all too real to ignore.

               Genghis is back to his excited mood as he feels the weight of Kokoro’s lack of existence uproot his very soul. ‘Kokoro was a mediocre man and never should have been given this role.’, he resounds internally as he feels that although that wasn’t the exact future he saw, he knew Mugoi was likely to expire at the hands of Fushiguro. “I do admire this Toji’s strength and he will certainly give us another edge until his time comes as well.”. He pretends to be kind as more Titers bow on foot to him as he passes, loving the thrill of being the faux head. The red clay-made walls and ground signify his descent into the compound, “Now we just have to work on Getou with the girl…”. Genghis smiles wider, ‘She’s truly perfect. What she’s capable of…what I’ll have her do…’. Genghis has yet to reveal all of his plans to Getou but will do so when he feels the time is right but not a moment sooner and for good reason.  Upon turning the corner towards Getou’s quarters though, he feels the gravitational presence. “Such a grown child…”, but hurriedly runs towards the door with slight apprehension, knowing there were some of the help in there with him.

               Getou is furiously releasing his gravity manipulation throughout the room. He’s yelling out but the sound means nothing in particular as he pins weaker Titers that were only there to serve him. “What am I supposed to do with THAT?!”, in pure fury he asks one of the servants as he points to the shattered bowl with water spilled all around it. “She’s…SHE IS DISGUSTING!”. The servants cry out unanimously as his fit continues but Getou purposefully doesn’t kill any of them. He looks to a younger male Titer who is already crying, “You really suggest that I should just accept this SHIT?! She’s tainted!”.

               Genghis bursts through the door, “SUGURU! STOP THIS AT ONCE!”, and uses his crippling presence to counter the waves of gravity. They’re no match for Getou’s abilities but they can at least bounce some energy back to him, thus giving his attention to Genghis. “RELEASE THEM!”.

               Suguru faces his mentor and reluctantly quells his technique, allowing the four pinned servants to scurry away through the door behind Genghis. “I wasn’t going to hurt them…but I may hurt bird bitch. You cannot SERIOUSLY expect me to want her.”. Getou now sits to the chair beside him and takes out his bun knowing he made a mess of it. ‘At least Fushiguro took action…’.

               “What happened in the small number of hours I’ve left you?” Genghis sees the shattered bowl and immediately understands that Getou saw something he didn’t like. He takes in the state of the room, all of the different craters formed about as he nears. ‘We’re lucky this part of the structure didn’t collapse…’. He’s a little irritated.

               “I will not have her as my wife.”, Getou huffs. He seethes at the images in his brain that depicted Elska, Naoya and Gojo sharing sexual relations. “She is not suited to be ANYONE’s wife!”. He accidentally snaps his hair band apart while trying to put his hair back up and becomes further infuriated. After grinding his teeth together, he tosses the useless hair tool across the room before running his hands through his long black hair. He sees Genghis nearing him and tries to recollect himself so he doesn’t seem immature. ‘Why the fuck did I have to see that?’.

               “What happened little one? What is SO bad that you feel you can justify this tantrum?” Genghis needs his words to cut but not in a way that will dislodge Getou further. He understands that sometimes he just may need a parental figure and is attempting to gratify this part of Suguru.

               “She…”, Suguru’s words silence for a moment before continuing, “…she was having sex with Zenin and Gojo…”. His fists clench reflexively as the thought of Gojo enjoying himself, living care free. It wrenches his intestines together. There’s a lack of response from Genghis, so he lowers his voice to exact his reasoning, “She fucks everyone.”, he cackles in annoyance, “Everyone but me that is.”. Getou remembers her glare when he left the room they held her in at the base. “I knew Zenin was oddly territorial with her but I never would’ve guessed this debauchery. He hates Gojo too…so I thought.”. Getou reels over the loss of his cohorts once again as he’s no longer alone but it doesn’t really feel like it.

               Genghis knows Suguru is expecting him to be riddled with disgust as well but he’s isn’t. ‘Is he..?’, Genghis is not even upset anymore as he feels that was confirmation of Suguru’s jealousy, whether Getou knows it or not. ‘Maybe there is hope for us after all…’. He lets a few seconds pass to simulate that of someone who cares. Genghis loves Suguru like a son but he also loves his own future as well along with his grandiose plans for their clan. With a small sigh he brings a chair and places it opposite of Getou and sits down. “Look little one, are you sure tha-…”.

               “SHE HAD GOJO INSIDE OF HER WHILE SHE WAS GAGGIN ON ZENIN!” Getou almost doesn’t catch himself in time to control the surging energy flowing through him. ‘Gojo… of all people.’.

               “Hmmm…”, is all Genghis offers while he thinks of how to diffuse this situation.

               “HMMM??!!!” Suguru mocks and then hollers, “What the FUCK kind of response is that?!”. He sees the glint of anger that flashes across his mentor’s eyes and decides to calm down. It’s a matter of respect.

               Genghis raises an eyebrow at how perceptive Getou can be at times although he needs to learn to be like that always. “I can see why that would bother you…”, but Getou scoffs as he turns away. “Her nature…it’s solidified but ever changing it would seem. We may not have the time we originally thought.” Suguru looks back to him now as he’s obviously curious as to what that could mean. ‘She’s already creating a small but powerful army.’.

               “What is that you know, Master?” Getou’s back to his collected demeanor as he’s eager to understand what could cause Genghis to seem so offhand on the ordeal. He looks around the destroyed room and feels slightly embarrassed, especially if there’s some kind of explanation.

               “When she drinks from the hybrid, his curse blood fuels her own. This is what I was trying to elucidate to you before.” Genghis checks to make sure he has Getou’s undivided attention. When he’s satisfied by his pupil practically hanging on the edge of his seat, he continues, “She has awakened to a small degree and with her kind, that means a growing appetite for many things and less inhibiting emotions in exchange.”. Getou’s eyes narrow in response but Genghis proceeds, “When we get her here, you’ll have to sate her needs little one so it’s best you understand now.”. He’s anticipating a rebuttal but it doesn’t arrive, ‘Good, because if you don’t, I will...and that may cause some problems.’.

               Getou is still mildly confused but understands enough that he’ll have to feed and fuck her. “I’ve already tried that, it didn’t work.”. His thoughts take to the last time he saw her, while he was working his way in.

               “You stabbed her, broke her wings and then forced yourself between her legs… let’s understand the difference here, Suguru…”, Genghis shakes his head as he didn’t want to be so blunt but at the same time, there’s no room for error there, Getou must comprehend that.

               “And she called out for Naoya when I did.”, Getou’s patience are being tried at this point. He knows he was wrong in his approach and even with his brutal nature. He also is hesitant to express anything in regards to that scent that provoked him.

               Genghis interrupts the pity party, “Because she’s afraid of you Suguru…and rightfully so!”. He softens his eyes for his pupil for just a moment, “I could never imagine expecting any other outcome. I’ve never even thought to do something like that to a woman.”, Genghis lies with complete knack.

               Getou exhales heavily and turns his gaze to the shattered bowl, “That doesn’t explain why she’s fucking everyone…”, he loses himself in those same images again and runs his finger along his scarred cheek. His eyes widen as he’s suddenly remembering the aftermath, “Toji attacked them though, I’m guessing Kokoro succeeded?”. He switches his view back to his mentor with inquisitive eyes.

               Genghis decides to hold off of the details about Elska and Toji following the incident. ‘She really is getting her fill though…’, but smiles to her ways as he watched them that day, all of it, from afar. He then tilts his head upwards and tries to hold his happiness inside as he delivers Mugoi’s fate, “Kokoro perished by the hands of Fushiguro… and Oda.”.

               Upon hearing of Mugoi’s death a small smirk appears initially but then he’s overcome with the fact that he’d always planned on taking out Kokoro himself. “How can he be dead? Isn’t he under the same technique?”. He hopes the bastard can return for more.

               Genghis allows his grin to sneak through after seeing Getou’s reaction, knowing they’re both pretty glad the fuckers gone. “Yes well, they didn’t use any techniques to kill him, they just utilized that nature of theirs. If he were killed with a cursed ability, yes, we could have reversed that.” Genghis chuckles lowly, “I told him to be extremely cautious but he ultimately underestimated this Toji gravely. To be fair though, I wasn’t expecting the girl to behave as she did…she killed Okhin viciously as well.”.

               Getou catches on to his master’s amusement and it rubs him as odd, “You said the outcome would benefit me…did you know this would happen?”. He’s decided to place that weird display in the back of his mind for the time being. ‘Okhin too?’, Getou barely knew the Titer woman but was aware of her loyalty to himself and their cause and feels regret that she lost her life.

               “I did.”. Genghis leans toward being honest about this bit at least. He waits to gauge Getou’s response and becomes eased when he can tell that his knowing won’t be met with hostility. “Mugoi wasn’t a very good man and he had no business leading this clan. His strategies were half-baked and his desires to lead were misplaced.”.

               “I never did like him…I actually hated that fucker and owed him for Kechi and Eso...” Getou sighs as there’s yet another thing to be grateful to Elska for. “Serves him right.”. ‘I wonder how she did it?’. Getou ponders on her mysterious existence and wonders what else he may not know about her. He thought he was well informed before but sees that’s not the case at all.

               Genghis smiles genuinely as he proceeds the conversation to nourish the seed he’s planted, “So…you were watching her?”. He gives a playful shove to Suguru, “You can’t hide the fact that you’re interested…I can already tell.”.

               Getou’s face becomes deadpanned at his mentor’s words. He’s self-conscious about the truth in the statement, not really being sure as to when it happened nor why. He looks back at the shattered bowl, “I was seeing if there were any tactics I could formulate based on their own.”. He feels another light push and it’s clear that Genghis wasn’t buying it. ‘Why is she so important to even him?’. He sighs in frustration, “Yes, ok? I was watching her…although I regret it now.”. His eyes widen during the statement, showing he meant it desperately.

               Genghis releases a loud cheer into the room, “ALRIGHT!”. He pats Getou on the shoulder, “This is great little one! You shall have her then!”. He can barely control his pride as he knows this step was imperative to conquer. “We will have to secure her soon before the others reach her to do the same.

               Getou wants to ask about the others mentioned but figures it pertains to the clans also aiming for the same goal. He becomes tactical, “I think we should draw them in and crush all of their shaman.”. This time, when preparing her quarters, he would take a note from Naoya and make sure she can at least be impressed by their offer. ‘Would it really make that much of a difference though?’, he’s unsure of what lies ahead because of what’s occurred in the past.

               Genghis leans forward with approval, “That is a wise idea but we should bait them first.”, he smiles maliciously, “I think we should take your lover first and give them a location.”.

               Getou blushes against his own will and tries to mask it with haste, “Whatever, that’s fine. I need to prepare an area for her.”. Suguru stands up, cloaked in agitation as he worries about what could be wrong with him. ‘Why…am I feeling so…awkward?’.

               “Don’t be ridiculous, you only need to prepare another room for yourself.” Genghis can’t believe that he’s having to hold his pupil’s hand through this but laughs to the confusion painted on Suguru’s face, “She’s going to be staying with you.”.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------          

               “Cho, how do you know this? ARE THEY NEARBY?” Naoya knows Choso is also very fine tuned when it comes to sensing other techniques, primarily the Titers for having worked around them for so long. Naoya still is looking around to silently ask everyone to be on their guard.

               Choso doesn’t remove the box from his pocket. He keeps his fingers wrapped around it though and tries to figure out a way to communicate that won’t bring them to a disadvantage. His stillness unnerves everyone but Toji tries to calm the room, understanding there’s a purpose for it. Choso decides to try something. After standing, he uses his right hand to point at his pocket and while still holding the box inside of there, he flicks it a few times with his finger, creating sound.

               Gojo is the first to catch on and decides to give it a codename, “The bento box!”. He smiles to Choso’s relieved nod and turns to face everyone. “Do you remember the yellow fish delivery we received earlier?”, Toji scrunches his face but then the connection is made. “I believe that Choso’s saying he can tell by the bento box it came in.” Elska now seems to get it as well.

               “Baby? When did you eat yellow fish?” Naoya approaches her with a coy smile as the remaining members in the room sigh in frustration, thinking he was too dense to comprehend. Megumi scoffs being out of the loop and apparently feels ashamed of Naoya’s gestures. When within arm’s reach, Naoya snags Elska by the hip and kisses her cheek while whispering, “We will protect you princess.”. He feels her pull away only enough to look into his eyes. He knows she trusts him, it’s written all over her face and nothing could make him happier.

               Elska is lost in Naoya’s warm expression until a realization hits her, “Does…does that mean they saw…everything?”. She becomes completely uncomfortable at the thought and welcomes Naoya’s arms as they wrap around her fully this time. While burying her face into his chest, she can feel the bass from his voice as he laughs awkwardly above her. ‘Greeeaaaaat…’.

               “Well at least it was worth watching…I can attest to that!”, Gojo’s eyes brighten as he recalls the three of them on the bed. ‘It was…perfection.’. Nanami sends narrow eyes over to him which he can feel instantly and against his rowdier judgement, decides to leave it at that.

               Toji scoffs while looking at Gojo, “You’re the fucking worst, you do know that, right?”. He’s never been able to stand Satoru’s need to gloat about everything, especially when it comes to her.

               Gojo warps himself behind Elska, “Oh…but she loves it…” and ruts his pelvis into her rear.

               Naoya uses his projection technique to pull her away afterward, “You’re too fucking much Gojo, don’t expect that shit to happen again.”. He actually really enjoyed the threesome for the most part but sees that he stoked an already heated fire within Gojo by participating. ‘This guy is not right in the head!’.

               “Sati! Why would you do that in front of everyone?!”, She’s not felt Naoya’s technique first hand like that and stumbled with collecting herself after being moved with such speed. ‘Did he seriously just hump me?’.

               Nanami yells, “SATORU!”, with absolute disapproval as Megumi scowls heavily beside him.

               Choso loses himself in thought after hearing Gojo’s mischievous giggles. ‘Do they know that this connects their energy to us? I can tell when they’re spying…’. He twirls the box within his fingertips in his pocket as he tries to formulate an explanation as to why the Titers left it behind if this was genuine. He looks back over to Toji now, ‘Is he really ok? What did this do to him?’. Choso’s eyes now take to Megumi and his heart sinks knowing that they’ve only just begun their father and son relationship officially, ‘I have to figure this out before it’s too late.’. He still hears the voices of everyone else but doesn’t register that his name is being called. The surging energy from the box also ceases and he quietly states, “I think they’re done for now…”.

               Toji sighs, “Thank god, those fucking creeps have nothing better to than to use ourselves against us.”.

               Naoya and Elska both relax into each other knowing they can likely move more freely now. Naoya smiles at her but then continues what they were originally talking about. “I’ll get you some sweets baby!”. He now turns to Choso who is still in his own mind, “Cho!”, Naoya is waving at his friend, “Does that sound alright to you?”.

               Elska chimes in, “I swear I won’t bite you again!”, she looks around to everyone, “Although I am due for a feed soon…”.

               Naoya gasps, “Well I’ll stay too!”. He’s weary of her feeding from Choso for many reasons, his personal ones at the forefront though.

               Toji huffs, “I think you two should make yourselves scarce when we come back.”, his vision glaring between Naoya and Gojo. “You two have had enough today.”.

               Gojo wants to say something smart to rile Toji up but decides that maybe that wasn’t such a huge demand. He looks to Naoya and whines, “Let Toji feed her tonight…”. He kicks at nothing to display his disappointment but knows that he owes the giant this much at least.

               Naoya grabs her hands now and looks down to her with his weak protest, “Baaaby…”, but then sighs as he can understand where Gojo is coming from, “…Ok…but tomorrow you feed from me!”. He smiles gleefully as he secures one of his favorite past times. Of course, he enjoys the feeling her bite surges through him but more than anything else, he loves how much she enjoys drinking from him. It certainly makes him feel needed and with all of the testosterone surrounding her now, he appreciates the affirmations he receives from her, this one especially. ‘If only I had my own fangs…’.

               “If she drinks too much of you boy, she’ll get fucking cavities.”. Toji laughs to his own joke though as he meant nothing foul by it, he’s actually surprised he didn’t receive more resistance from either of them on the matter of feeding.

               “What are you guys about to do?” Choso now feels he missed something important.

               Elska and Gojo chuckle at the fact that Choso indeed tuned them all out moments ago.

               “They’re going on a food run while you stay with me, if that’s ok!”. Elska smiles and continues, “You can take a shower too if you want, I won’t leave the room but you’ll still have privacy in there.”. She walks over to the bathroom and pulls out a fresh towel from a neat stack that lays on iron shelving next to the tub.

               “And make sure you’re clothed when you leave the bathroom…”, Gojo’s tries to make his tone lighter but he’s serious. “I saw what you’re hiding underneath those clothes, you thick ass stallion!”, and laughs to Choso’s widening eyes.

               Choso recalls Gojo complimenting his body before  and becomes flustered by the accusations being launched at him and quickly defends himself, “Elska! I promise I wouldn’t try to do anything sexy to you!”. He hears Gojo roar into laughter and anchors his eyebrows in a way that show the silver shaman that he’s been teased enough for one day.

               “I would hope not.” Megumi makes his quiet presence known again as he’s only just calmed down after seeing his sensei hump her…and then there’s the feeding. He turns his nose up and hollers while leaving for the door with Nanami, “GIVE HER SOME SPACE.”.

               “Doll, I’ll be right back alright?” He grins when she nods in anticipation and he can sense that she’s as eager to feed from him as he is to feed her.

               “Umm…I will too, don’t forget that part old man…”, Naoya finally releases his hands from her as he forces himself away and towards the door. “Be right back baby!” He blows her a kiss from the doorway but waits impatiently for Gojo to make his exit.

               Gojo now grabs her hands and with a serious face says, “Love, just be careful and wait for Toji. We will back after you have some time.” He smiles, “Don’t bite Choso in case it’s related to that other you ok?” He kisses her on the forehead gently before stepping back and taking in her comfortable and casual appearance while relishing on his recent lush memories of them. He glances to Choso, “If anything happens, make a portal to Naoya but we should be back really soon.

               Choso nods and is glad that there was reiteration over him being the source of her nourishment. ‘Gojo is far more intelligent than he typically lets on…’. After everyone leaves the room, the silence engulfs them. “I uhh…I guess I will take a shower now.”, and dutifully heads into the bathroom.

               “Wait there’s a trick!” Elska rushes past the door before he can close it in order to reach the faucet. The temperature designated knobs are actually reversed and she didn’t want Choso to fall victim to ignorance’s cruelty. Once adjusted, she stands up tall and smiles, “Now, you’re all set!”.

               “I tend to take lengthy showers, please do not be alarmed by this.” Choso feels the steam beginning to take form and is ready to wash the day away. She giggles and says “That’s totally fine, relax a bit.” Before switching on the fan and shutting the door behind her. As he undresses, he folds his new pajamas neatly on the counter, planning to put them back on when he’s finished. For a moment he freezes as this doesn’t make sense, how can he watch her while he bathes? ‘Oh, they were way ahead of me with this one…’. He forms his observer window, focuses it on her and leaves the curtain parted so he can check it from time to time.

               Elska isn’t sure why but as soon as the words, “Relax a bit” left her, she felt the urge to do so herself. “Well…he did say he takes long showers…and they’re no longer watching us…”, she walks over to Choso’s unintentional gift and honestly just wants to try it. After grabbing it, she cautiously makes her way back to the bed, dropping her new ace sweatpants to the floor before laying on her back. Her mind brings her back to Naoya and Satoru taking her and becomes flooded with arousal. “That really was…amazing.”. Her nimble fingers press the tiny rubber button located on the bottom of the little pink mouse and jumps with excitement when it turns on. ‘This shouldn’t take much time at all!’, and gleams to its vibrational impact. The thought of Naoya extracting her pheromones and orgasms while Satoru filled her mouth sends a sensation between her thighs before the vibrator ever reached its target. She self consciously listens for any sudden movement in the bathroom, wondering why she was really about to do this right now. ‘I just feel like I need to…’, but is trying to ignore the fact that she’s seen plenty of action for one day, at least normally. Once the silicone bullet reaches her clitoris, her body tenses up by the sensations it sends through her and she quietly gasps with a wide smile.

               Choso is rinsing his hair, enjoying the scented products that fall and mix into the water. ‘How does my hair feel this smooth after just shampoo?’, he’s amazed and feeling anew. After applying the thick conditioner, he decides to read the ingredients from the bottle located at the other end of the tub. When he grabs it, he turns to check his observer window to make sure everything is alright. “Oh my…”. His eyes are wide and the shock from what he’s seeing steals his attention thus causing the shampoo bottle to be dropped onto his foot. “OW!”.

               Elska hears the commotion and immediately closes her legs for cover. She’s panting lightly as she was already pretty close to being done with this test drive but still calls out, “Chos…Choso? Are you alright in there?!”. She sits up as she listens carefully for a response.

               “I uhhh…Yea!! I’m great! Just…dropped something!”. Choso feels his heart pounding through him and when he looks down can see his chest beat along with it. ‘I should’ve just told her the truth!’, he panicked though. He stands at the end of the tub where the water barely touches him as he breathlessly waits for a sign that she’d either stop or continue. ‘Does she not know I’m observing her?’. He watches her settle back into the bed but has failed to notice his instant erection until this point and whispers, “Damnit…”. When she places the mouse back on her sensitive areas, he can see her face twist in pleasure and cannot help himself. Choso begins to stoke his member as his human desires take over and shudders to the wonderful sensations it sends through him. Elska moans quietly but Choso is audibly attached to his window so he hears it. He watches her placement of the toy and is surprised to see that it’s used to for surface features rather than being for inside. He continues to pump his hand, gaining speeding even while the water threatens to stop his motions, moaning himself as he studies the visual before him. “Women…they’re such…beautiful creatures…”, he whispers through his small gasps.

               Elska is working towards her climax, intermittently edging herself when she feels she’s too close, not wanting to end the pleasure so soon. She thinks about how Toji always tries to stimulate her with his hands while he works himself into her, causing her toes to curl. ‘Toji and this would be incredible…’, she pictures him with his wings and fangs out, using his mass to pin her against the bed as he thrusts through her. In this fantasy, he would hold the mouse down against her, forcing her to endure the bliss while locking glowing eyes. “Holy…oh…yes…”, she whines out underneath her breath as she feels her moisture gather. She imagines him smugly smirk above her before saying, “Doll, you’re so fucking wet for me.”, but realizes that would be much more of a Satoru thing.

               Choso is no longer even bathing by this point but has opened the curtains further so he can still receive the warmth from the water as he continues towards his own relief. Every time her body arches or she whispers confirmation to how good she’s feeling, his hand increases speed by itself. He looks down to see how unbearably hard he is and bites his lip as his vision takes back to his technique. His mind is plaguing him as he doesn’t have a direct desire to sleep with her but she’s always the subject of his sexual thoughts. He imagines himself sitting between her knees, administering the mouse. “Mmmm…”, he groans while thinking of her furrowed brow and flush expression being the product of his placement. His hand grips his girth and he momentarily seethes and hisses to the building rise coursing through him. He whispers her name to his own dismay, feeling that it increased his ability to reach his orgasm. The water falling down his back has become cooler but it doesn’t deter him from this interesting experience.

               She is now daydreaming about Satoru’s aggressive behavior. ‘He would most definitely use this mouse as a tool to dominate.’, and the thought of him bending her over while making her hold it to herself almost makes her unravel. He’d say things like, “Awww love, what’s the matter? Can’t handle it?”, and she would have to respond to him before he’d smack her ass…but maybe she would keep quiet on purpose. He’d likely grab her by the throat and raise her up from behind so he could hear her clearly as he spreads her from within. She gasps to this and arches her body again as she nearly lost herself. Her eyes open widely though as she’s sure he would attempt anal next…but she wouldn’t necessarily fight him. ‘If I ever tell him that I actually like it, he would try it all of the time though…’, and the idea of him relentlessly trying to impale her in that manner slightly decreases her arousal.

               Choso is all but minutes away from being spent. He’s staring intently into the observer’s window and ignores her change in demeanor. Instead, he’s now wondering about this taste that women provide. He still isn’t sure you’re supposed to lick them there but the probability of it being allowed makes him imagine how he would. The expression on her face is back to be pleasant so maybe if he would take his tongue to the same spot where the mouse is located, he could cause this too. His eyes are closed at this point, while he hastily grips and rhythms with his hand so when she cries out, his imagination runs wild and he imagines inserting himself into her. That was a mistake though because in this moment, he’s releasing his contents all over himself and the tub while he fails to cease his motion.

               Naoya’s sweet but domineering nature saved the day. While reliving old memories of when she was his prisoner, she remembers the sexual tension that made her crave him even more. While envisioning them on their sides again, she smiles to the desperation felt that consumed her, making her take him in his sleep. “Oh…Naoyaaaaa…”. It really didn’t matter what he would try with her, Elska was likely to allow him wantonly, she trusts him fully in this realm. In her sexual dream however, he’s given glowing red eyes and golden wings. He would brush her hair aside while rocking his hips while they lay there but he’d also lean down to pierce her neck. “God pleeeeassee…”, she begs the universe to at least be able to simulate what his fangs would feel like. She cries out though in real time and releases a wave of pheromones as her legs tremble, the orgasm following immediately after. She lies there panting, not having removed the mouse from her hand, nor has she budged to change her position. Her eyes take to the little mouse though while she heaves and feels her arousal seeping out, “This was actually a wonderful gift Choso!”. She smiles and feels the cold chills that are result of her thin layer of sweat. She goes to sit herself up but finds she just doesn’t have the energy in this moment. Her eyes dart open as she recalls, “CHOSO! SHIT!”, having temporarily forgotten that he was in the bathroom, only a few feet away. She sits up tensely to gather herself as the door is pushed open. She screams, “DON’T!”. She feels so ridiculous as she knew Toji’s door no longer latched.

               Choso heard her scream and although he’s a mess he launches out of the shower. “Elska! What’s wrong?!”.

               Toji stands in the doorway first inhaling the scent before noticing Elska’s position and eyes the mouse next her on the bed. The fact that she wasn’t dressed on her lower half clearly gave it away. He feels himself get a little excited but its all but crushed as a wet and naked Choso barrels out of the bathroom door. “What the f…”.

               Elska quickly covers herself before Choso has a chance to turn around but she can’t help but stare at him against her better judgement. His body is so refined and built, his lower half just as impressive. She doesn’t feel any desire to experience him but she can still appreciate a good work of art. When their eyes meet, Choso turns beet red and flails his hands in an attempt to shield them from his usually hidden parts. “I thought something was wrong!”.

               “The fact that you’re out here butt ass naked is the something that’s wrong buddy…”, Toji glares at the being and huffs. Toji points his finger toward the door and says, “Go get some fucking clothes on! What were you doing in there to still be bathing?!”. A realization hits him and he growls at the possibility that Choso was relieving himself in his shower. “How the fuck were you planning on protecting her if you were in there the entire time?!”, Toji demands an explanation.

               Choso looks away from Toji and to the floor, “Well…I was watching her still…I just multitasked.”. He can feel Toji’s presence intensify immensely and wonders if he should have just lied and apologized.

               Elska folds over in the bed and curls up in embarrassment. ‘Does he mean…he watched me do that?”, she too mortified to ask or even look at either of them.

               Naoya now walks through the door, “CHO! WHAT THE FUCK!?”. He sees Elska hiding in the bed and after seeing his friend’s bareness, freaks out. “WHAT DID YOU DO!?”, he runs to Elska who’s actively deflecting any interaction and he assumes the worse. “Baby! What happened?!”, He then sees the pink mouse on the bed and feels his left eye twitch. He snatches it from beside her and charges Choso, “YOU THOUGHT TO USE THIS ON HER?!”. He sees the surprise in Choso’s eyes and even through his anger, realizes that he jumped to conclusions.

               Elska understands this is taking a wrong turn so she sits up again and says, “I used it on myself! Choso was just taking a shower and bolted out here when I screamed!”.

               Naoya stops now, being only about a foot away from Choso. “Baby, what caused you to scream?”, he now looks at the toy with a raised eyebrow, ‘Could it really be that good?’. Choso’s eyes meet it too and the being blushes further.

               “She screamed when I came through the door, boy, calm down.” Toji is now pinching the bridge of his nose in aggravation to the endless web of miscommunication that spins between them. He walks over to Naoya and steals the mouse. “You guys need to scram for a few. She needs to feed and I’m tired of there being a god damn peanut gallery.”.

               Choso immediately rushes into the bathroom to change as Naoya pouts while walking back to Elska. “Baby, I’m parking right next door and I’ll be back as soon as you are finished.”.

               “We actually are switching rooms tonight!” Gojo now strolls in, having listened from the hall. He comprehends everything that just happened, from the dual masturbation to the sad accusations that were pointed to Choso. If he hadn’t stayed behind though Megumi would’ve seen everything before being shooed away and that’s the only thing that bothers him. ‘Toji is going to have to handle that soon…’.

               “This is my room you silver fuck, I don’t want to move.”, Toji defends his messy territory that has suffered from the multiple people using it.

               Elska is further jolted by Satoru’s sudden appearance but calmly asks, “What are you talking about Sati?”. She’s now quickly donning her ace pants while trying her best to make it seem like she’s no longer bothered by what may have taken place with Choso. ‘I’m just glad that topic got skipped over…’.

               “We’re going to a bigger room, with a bigger bed.” Gojo winks at her as he’s still bent on proving to her that the additional company can be worked with. “But you two can still feed here, I’ll have Naoya and Choso help me set everything up!”. His eyes take to Toji, “Surely you can understand why this room’s defenses are no longer suitable…”. He glances to Elska and brings his palms up to the situation they’re in with an expression that says, “Think about it.”.

               “I swear if it’s poorly designed, I’m going to snap. Color scheme and layout is everything Gojo…”, Naoya rolls his eyes as he’s really not in the position to refuse lodging but wishes he didn’t have to share everything with his cousin and him.

               Toji howls, “You fucking broke the door in the first place you cunt!”. He never knows how far the silver shaman will go but is slowly wondering if there are any boundaries at all. Becoming further irritated, he starts to manually push everyone towards hall. “Get the fuck out!”. Naoya is still protesting to being forced to leave even as Toji shuts the door in his face, hearing his whining through the wood. “Jesus Christ…they’re such fucking handful…”.

               Elska giggles to Toji’s vexation but sits on her knees as the large man returns toward her, sitting on the bed.

               Naoya is still on the other side of the door, “Choso is in there you old fart!”.

               Toji’s eyes narrow to the bathroom but before he can say anything, Choso quickly races out with soaking hair and practically runs to the door leading to the hallway. He now sighs and slouches over on the edge of the bed, “Doll…sometimes it’s so much to navigate through…”, he looks to her, “…are you not overwhelmed by all of this?”. His hand finds it’s way to her cheek after he orients his body more towards her. They’re eyes respond to each other, him not knowing who’s began glowing first.

               “It is…a lot…”. She admits while nuzzling into his hand. “…but look at how you three loners are no longer alone.”, she means it and smiles genuinely as that part does lift her heart. She watches Toji scoot back onto the bed but to his knees and her teeth peer through her lips as she gathers he’s getting straight to it. With slow motion, she crawls over top of him until she’s perfectly seated in his lap and his arms are securing her body against him. Looking down from now overhead, she chuckles, “Just like our first time…”, and brushes his hair from his face as she happily takes in the details of his rugged features. “I’m really sorry about earlier Toji…I really wasn’t expecting Sati to take us away like that. I really wasn’t expecting any of it actually.”.

               Toji can sense her guilt and feels like he should address his prior purpose. “Doll, I was just worried Gojo was taking things too far…like before. I didn’t trust that he would have your best interest at heart which is why I was so angry.”. He lifts his chin so he can tuck her head underneath it while holding her, “I am with you no matter what, never forget that.”. Toji closes his eyes as he feels her relax and cackles, “Naoya already said he wasn’t going to do that again but I feel like Gojo will still try.”. He pulls her away and bends his neck to the side to give her full access with a smile.

               “You’re too good for me, Toji…”, she laments while eyeing his neck. Instead of immediately biting him though she turns his head back towards her for a deep and passionate meeting of the lips. He responds by send his tongue into her mouth, causing her to whimper as she grips his sleek black hair with her right hand while holding his throat with her left, not even meaning to. Both of their fangs form as soon as he breaks their lustrous kiss and he again positions his head to the side as she lowers her own. She can hear him groan as her teeth skip across the skin of his neck and right as she’s about to puncture him, Satoru’s presence can be felt.

               “LOVE WAIT!” He runs over to the bed as Elska didn’t seem to even flinch. “Choso made a valid point!”, Toji’s glowing eyes finally meet his so he continues, “If Toji has Titer energy in him, this is about to be another fucking catastrophe!”.

               Toji swiftly blocks Elska from his neck and rolls over so she’s pinned to the bed, being startled by her reaction.

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Tagging : @angelofthorr

[raelly-writing]

Little Secrets - Thancred/WoL

Post-5.5. Silly little bit of fluff I’ve had lying around in my WIP folder since before 5.3. :)

---

The Rising Stones lay still and quiet as Thancred made his way through its hallways. Not that it was unexpected at this hour - either it was far too late in the night or too early in the morning for many souls aside for the town guards to be awake.

At least the others out in the field had been faring well when he’d checked in with them, despite their less than pleasant task of intercepting any further attempts to bring captives to the towers. Sure, he could have checked in via linkpearl, but after the chaos out in Pagl’than, it’d seemed prudent to get a feeling for the situation elsewhere.

Well, he could convene with Riol and Alphinaud in the morning, Thancred thought as he took the steps up the stairs to the sleeping quarters in twos. Despite his long travel and the late - or early - hour, he felt rather energetic.

Or perhaps it was the thought of slinking into Viana’s room and just catching a few precious hours of sleep with her after several days apart that put a slight spring in his step. Between his time away in Garlemald, and leaving again to see how the situation at the other towers were, he looked forward to the comforting warmth of her body curled up next to his as he slept. In the dark, still corridor, his quiet huff of laughter at himself seemed far louder than it was. It would have been a hard thing to believe once that he’d be eager to slip into his lover’s bed, just for the simple pleasure of sleeping by their side.

Nevermind that there were no fears of entanglement driving him from leaving said bed early, that he was content and secure in this bond between them that kept him by her side - that he could allow himself to have this simple happiness in his life, despite those moments where he felt it was something he had not yet earned, and those familiar, dark voices whispered to him that she would one day realise that he was not fit for her.

With a shake of his head, he fished out the spare key she had given him from his inner coat pocket and quietly unlocked her door. Her chamber lay silent as he slipped inside and closed the door behind him, bathed in the low light of the lantern left burning on her desk.

Too silent, in fact.

A small frown creased his brow as he quietly stepped deeper into the room and looked around the ornate Far Eastern wood screen that customarily partitioned off her bed from the rest of the room.

The piles of pillows and blankets were untouched, the covers still neatly tucked in. No one had slept in that bed tonight.

Thancred felt a small but potent pang of disappointment. Most likely she had been called off somewhere on an urgent matter, as was wont to happen.

Well, there was nothing to be done about it - guess he was sleeping in his own bed tonight. Tataru and Alphinaud would tell him in the morning where she’d gone, he was sure. Sighing, he reached out to turn off the lantern, when he caught sight of her gunblade lying on her desk with its maintenance kit beside it. Thancred stopped at once, a curious frown back on his features. Looking around he found her katana sitting on its customary stand and her axe hanging off a pair of hooks on the wall by her wardrobe.

“What the-?” he murmured to himself. She wouldn’t have left without any of her weapons.

Just then, there was the sound of a key turning in the lock, followed by a dull thud as someone on the other side pushed their weight against the door. A pause. Then the sound of it once more unlocking.

“Seven Hells, I swear that I locked-” Viana froze the moment she saw him, her eyes going almost comically wide in surprise.

Thancred’s eyebrows rose as he took in her appearance, the surprise he felt not mitigating the heat that instantly crawled up the back of his neck. A dark leather corset hugged her body, with familiar looking bits of gold jewelry twinkling in the low light like little stars against the dark blue cloth of her dress.

A moment of silence stretched out between them.

Clearing his throat, he smiled and gestured towards her. “Were I to check the hallway, would I find Urianger knocked out and robbed off his usual adornments?”

Viana’s shoulders, bared by the cut of the dress, sagged when she exhaled. “Funny,” she replied dryly while she stepped inside and closed the door behind her, turning the lock. Tall boots covered her legs, though even in the dim light of the room he could see the tantalising glimpse of bare skin at her thigh.

He tried not to let his eyes linger, but it was hard not to let his gaze wander and soak in her unusual appearance, used as he was to her in full armour or just lighter shirts and trousers. This was… extravagant, by comparison. “People have on occasion accused me of such feats,” he quipped.

Pausing, she gave him a shy, uncertain look while still lingering by the door. He was not meant to have seen her like this, he realised. Only once, long ago, had he seen her carry herself in such an apprehensive manner - at the banquet that had been held after the Grand Melee in Ishgard. But there were no crowds of gossiping nobles present now to watch her every move.

Thancred gave her a reassuring smile as he took a couple of slow steps forward. “So, do you mind me asking what this is about?” He had an inkling but...

Viana tensed up, and he nearly told her that she did not have to if so was her wish, but then she sighed and procured from behind her the folded together metal rings that appeared to have been suspended from one of the chains around her waist.  “I suppose you’d find out sooner or later,” she said quietly as she took a few steps to close the distance between them.

With a touch of aether, the slender rings flared to life and hovered above her palm - a familiar sight, though hers lacked the intricate decorations of Urianger’s. The bracelets on her arm tinkled when she moved her arm over the astrolabe, her face set in a look of concentration.

Briefly, the room was illuminated by a surge of aether, and then a soothing sensation washed over Thancred, like a gentle whisper of the softest silk over his bare skin that swept away the weariness in his limbs. Rejuvenating magic, tinted with the warm, familiar feeling of her aether.

“I made the mistake of voicing some curiosity about astrology to Urianger while we were dealing with Eden.” The corner of her mouth curled with a crooked smile. “And I fear he took it as a personal challenge to teach me.”

“Ah, a grave mistake indeed,” Thancred chuckled. “Give him an ilm and he’ll take a yalm.”

Shrugging, she eyed the slowly spinning astrolabe with a small, thoughtful smile. “It’s been… interesting to learn though.” Her gaze flickered back to him. “I’ll probably never take this out in the field. I’m barely good enough to heal a minor cut, but I do genuinely appreciate the effort and time he’s put toward this. He’s a good teacher. Very patient with me.”

Thancred’s expression softened. He knew her lack of an education was a sore spot for her, and that she often felt like her non-existent grasp of magical theory made her less of use than the rest of them - that, as per her own jest, her sole contribution to any given problem was to take a beating and punch the issue until it either went away or one of them solved it. Gratitude towards Urianger for taking her under his wing tugged at his heart, along with a content pride in her efforts to learn. Even if Thancred himself thought that she hardly had anything to prove to them, in that regard. She was more than just a weapon. Reaching out, he took her free hand in his and brushed a quick kiss to the back of her fingers, below the rings that adorned them.

“I take it you were out studying the stars then,” he asked, recalling how Urianger would sometimes venture out into the fields of Il Mheg even when the blanket of Eternal Light had made it impossible to see the night sky.

Viana nodded and slipped her hand from his to caress his jaw. The scratch of his stubble made her smile widen a little, mirth dancing in her eyes. “Mm, his balcony has a good view of most of them. Otherwise we go up to one of the towers.”

With another wave of her hand, the astrolabe folded back up and she took a careful hold of it before walking past him to the same low cabinet upon which her katana stand stood. The soft light from the lantern caught on the gold chain hanging down between her shoulder blades. Focusing on it, he saw that another star pendant was dangling at its end, and that another, heftier chain was attached to the band around her upper arm. There was an itch in his fingers to slowly undo each clasp and tie, to loosen the corset hugging her body and unwrap her like a fine namesday gift.

“He’s been teaching me about the various constellations and how to draw on them,” she told him over her shoulder, unaware of how his eyes were following the chains looping around her waist, and the small blue gems hanging from them that sparkled like they were distant stars twinkling in the night sky. “Not sure how successful I’ve been at it though.”

She turned around and his gaze instantly snapped back up to her face. Clearing his throat, he nodded. “I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it.”

Viana shrugged sheepishly. “Perhaps. If nothing else I might be able to apply some of the theory to my gunbreaker barriers.” Her smile turned crooked, as humour sparked in her eyes. “And, I might not stand around and look like I just got clubbed over the head by Titan whenever a discussion turns theoretical in nature about aether balancing and all that stuff.”

“Ah, my dear, you’re hardly the only one who gets turned around by their theoretical debates.”

A soft peal of laughter made her shoulders shake as she walked back to him. “Well, I suppose I have Estinien as company in that regard, for now.” The knowing look she gave him made it clear that she knew he was obfuscating his own knowledge on the field, but instead of calling him out on it she merely leaned down and gave him a light kiss on the cheek. “I’m glad you’re back,” she murmured.

Smiling, Thancred slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her closer. “I’m glad to be back.”

Viana leaned against him and brushed back his hair from his eyes. “Planning on staying for more than a day, this time?”

Immediately he felt the long journey catch up with him, and with a tired chuckle he nodded. “Unless the gods decide to suddenly turn the world upside down tomorrow, then yes, I am.”

Her smile brightened a little at once. “Good.” She leaned down and he eagerly met her in a slow kiss.

Thancred made a pleased noise at the back of his throat, his heart skipping a beat in joy at being back with her. The kiss was short and sweet, familiar and welcoming in tone.

Almost too short, he felt, when she straightened back up. Peering up at her, he felt curiosity tug at him once more as he thumbed what felt like a star shaped pendant. “Haven’t seen you in something like this before,” he murmured with a smile. “Well, aside from that dress at ser Aymeric’s banquet.”

A blush immediately crept up on her cheeks as she glanced away. “Ah, yes, I... asked Tataru for some more aether conductive gear,” she replied while tapping her fingers against his shoulders in a nervous manner. “Apparently she’d gotten her hands on some new patterns in Ishgard that she wanted to try out. Decided to kill two cloudkin with one rock, as it were.” The tilt of her smile turned a little self deprecating as she shrugged, “Can’t help but feel like her efforts were wasted on me.”

Raising a hand, he touched her chin to urge her to look back at him. Thancred held her gaze and let the levity drop from his voice when he responded, “You look stunning, darling.”

Viana’s eyes widened a fraction before her expression settled back into a bashful look. “Not exactly my usual style,” she murmured, her tone uncertain. “It seems a bit… frivolous, compared to my normal clothes.”

“Nothing wrong with a little frivolity, if that’s what you are in the mood for,” Thancred mused.

She pursed her lips with a thoughtful look, before leaning down and pressing another quick kiss to his mouth. “Well, thoughts for a later time I suppose. Mind helping me out of this?”

“Mm, that would be my pleasure,” he replied with a grin and gave her waist a squeeze.

[masterjedilenawrites]

The Sniper and The Medic: Chapter 6

Starring: Crosshair, OC Joan Vo

Chapter Warnings: Injuries

Taglist: @proadhog @skippyhopperwisdom

AO3 Link (In case you like it better over there, it’s okay, no judgement)

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Chapter 6: Black and Blue

Crosshair found himself hesitating outside the door to Joan's office. It looked just like any of the other doors down this hallway; he'd probably passed by it before without ever giving it a thought. But now that he knew where it led, who would be on the other side, he felt his stomach twist in apprehension.

And then he felt the dull pain from the bruise along his ribs and decided to just get it over with. He knocked, and heard her muffled voice calling back for him to enter.

Her office wasn't like the others he'd seen. Some kind of paneling had been put up against the standard white walls and a giant black rug took up most of the floor. It made the space feel smaller, but cozier. Even some of the lights seemed different, not as harsh and glaring as they usually were in these facilities. A desk was pushed against a wall on one side, and a small couch against the other. There was an assortment of other items about, from a bookshelf to a coffee machine to an exercise ball. A door lay open in one corner, and from his two-second view as he passed by, Crosshair determined it was a bedroom.

Joan herself was in the middle of the room, her back slightly turned as she faced a dartboard across from her. She had a dart poised to toss, but paused to look over at him and smiled in greeting.

"Hey Crosshair."

She didn't ask how he was this time, instead returning to focus on her game. Her tongue stuck out a little as she aimed and released the dart. It only barely hit the top of the board.

"Damn," she sighed. There was only one other dart on the board, the rest on the floor beneath. She faced him again with a smile. Her hair was out of its usual ponytail and she wore shorts along with her tank-top. Crosshair briefly wondered if he would ever catch her not looking wonderful.

"Do you play?" She came toward him and handed out her last dart.

He shook his head but still took the dart from her, hoping she wouldn't notice how much pain he was in. His plan was to casually ask for a bacta patch and then leave. If she wondered why, he'd say it was just a bruise but that he was fine and the only reason he came was because Hunter had insisted.

He would not, under any circumstances, tell her what had really happened. That he had been distracted by thinking about her while trying to run up some temple steps, causing him to trip and fall on top of the butt of his gun, which had gone underneath his chest plate and jammed his ribs. Nope. That was a secret he planned to take with him to the grave.

So he took the dart, held it up briefly, and tossed it over to the dartboard, hitting the bullseye square on.

Joan looked between him and the board a few times incredulously.

"You... you didn't even aim," she finally said.

"I aimed," he asserted.

She held her hands up with a little laugh. "Okay, Mr. Sharpshooter." She went over to the board to collect all the darts, looking back at him with another incredulous shake of her head. He was glad to have impressed her so much, especially when he wasn't feeling well.

"So, did you just come here to show me up, or what?"

She walked back to him, and it was then he noticed the large, gnarly-looking scar that spanned the entire length of her left thigh. Around it were tattoos of little birds, made to look as if they were flying in a spiral, up and away.

"No..." he said, distracted by her scar and tattoos. There was always something new to learn about her.

"Oh shit," she said, stopping a few paces from him. "You're injured, aren't you?"

Her eyes scanned up and down his body, trying to assess his condition. Of course she could tell when someone was hurt, he cursed at himself. It was her job. "Where?"

He vaguely motioned around his abdomen. "Just a bruise. I'm fine. Hunter..." he started to say, but she had set down her darts and was moving to take hold of his shirt. He put a tense hand on hers to stop her.

She looked up at him, half-amused. "I've probably seen worse."

That wasn't exactly what he was nervous about. Most doctors here would've had him disrobe on day one, one of many ways he felt humiliated in any examination room he went in. But since working with Joan, he'd been able to get over that fear a little. He didn't feel judged or scrutinized under her gaze. And he hadn't had to take any clothes off thus far.

But he let her lift up his shirt anyway, knowing he couldn't really stop her with the amount of pain he was in. Hopefully she would only pay attention to the injury.

She bent to inspect it and he couldn't help but glance down at it, too. It was the first time he'd seen the actual damage, and it definitely looked as worse as it felt. A large bruise was splattered across his lower ribcage.

"Um," she said with a little sigh. "Yeah that's... that's not good."

Crosshair braced himself for her to scold him, or fuss over him, or worse, demand to know what had happened. But instead, she calmly took a step back and folded her arms across her chest, looking him right in the eyes. "Well? What are you going to do about it?"

He scowled at her question. "I don't know. You're the medic."

"Last I checked, Clone Force 99 doesn't have a medic."

Crosshair realized what she was going for. She had made it clear just as much as Hunter had that the goal was for them to be prepared for their missions. If he couldn't figure out how to heal himself on Kamino, he didn't stand a chance doing so anywhere else. The problem was he really didn't know how to figure it out. Tech would know way more about this sort of thing.

"I'd ask Tech for help... I guess," he ended up saying.

That amused smirk ended back up on her face. "Yeah? When did this happen?"

"This morning."

"And did you ask Tech for help at any point between then and now?"

"No...."

"So what are you doing to do now?"

He wanted to sigh, but breathing was becoming much more strenuous. Why couldn't she just help him? He didn't really like when people fussed, but at this point, he'd much prefer that over standing around any longer. He got an idea, a rather silly and selfish one, but it was just the two of them and he figured he might as well give it a shot.

"I... I guess..." he pretended to think of a plan, letting his breaths come out shorter and louder and making himself sway a little on his feet. He didn't need to put on much of an act, just succumb to the pain and faintness he was already feeling. As predicted, Joan stopped testing him and rushed right to his side.

"Okay, okay, stay with me, Crosshair," she said softly. She wrapped an arm around his back, knowing he wouldn't be able to stretch his arm up and over her shoulder in his condition. Even through the pain, Crosshair felt a little excited tingle run through his body as her frame pressed against his. She began slowly leading him toward the couch. "I'll give you a pass on this one, but you need to stay awake so I can teach you what to do."

Joan helped him sit on the edge of the couch and quickly launched into her teaching moment. She had him cut open his shirt and showed him how to use the handheld x-ray monitor to asses if any ribs were broken. After determining it was just a bad bruise, she then explained how not to treat it: no bandagings, no deep breaths, but also not too many shallow breaths or else pneumonia might settle. She had him apply his own bacta patch and repeat back the frequency he should replace the patches while it healed. She also made him promise not to strain himself for a while, knowing he'd still need to train, but wanting to ensure he did it as safely as possible.

The whole time, Crosshair was in awe... of her medical expertise, her calmness, her way of inspiring him to take his health into his own hands. He wondered if she would ever feel the same about him. It was one thing to be impressive at darts, and a whole other thing to actually be attractive. Sitting there with his shirt off, his slight frame hunched and an ugly bruise on his abdomen, he wasn't sure he could pull it off.

Once she'd taught him all she could, she helped slip a poncho over his head, the only thing he could put on until the bacta settled in and gave him more range of motion.

"Thanks," he told her. "Sorry if I ruined your evening."

"Not at all." She walked with him to the door. "Also, I'll make sure Hunter lets you all have tomorrow off. I told him he could push you guys, but not break you."

"It wasn't Hunter's fault." Crosshair couldn't believe he was admitting this, but it was too late now. "I... kinda got distracted."

She gazed up at him for a moment, her green eyes subdued in the dim lighting. He knew if there was ever a moment for him to say something meaningful, it would be now. But he didn't know the first thing about flirting. He wasn't even a conversationalist in general. What could he possibly say?

"Green." The word slipped out of his mouth before he could even think about it. Her eyebrows quirked up questioningly. His heart thudded painfully in his chest. He gulped and tried to save himself. "We did the Endor sim today and I realized my favorite color is green."

She didn't react right away, just kept looking at him with that soft look in her eyes. Then she said, "Mine too. I didn't know how much I'd miss it, coming here. Maybe... maybe you could show me the sim some time? Not to run, just to look at."

He nodded, trying to contain the blush that threatened to appear.

"Although, maybe I should get some target practice in... Clearly I'm not that good at it."

"Is that why you resort to punching droids?"

She laughed, a genuine and lovely sound that made his heart race for completely different reasons.

"I'll help you practice," he said, finally stepping into the hall to be on his way. He wanted to leave before he said something stupid and ruined the moment. "The least I could do."

"Deal," Joan grinned.

[luciferloveschloe]

50 Cliché Prompts: 27

27. Help me I’m being hit on at a bar please be my fake boyfriend for a second

this is part of my 1k celebration! i invited people to send in prompts.

okay, so, the fact that i need to explain this highlights how long it took me to write it. in my defense, i have never written a longer one shot, and there is fake dating and pining and feelings and a bit of smut thrown in for flare. enjoy!

[deckerstar, 4.5k words, set early in s2, fake dating, first time, porn with feelings]

of holy things

“Ms. Decker?”

Lucifer’s bartender – Patrick, she remembers – slides a tumbler to where she’s taken a seat at the bar, perched somewhat uncomfortably.

“Oh no, I didn’t order any–“

“Ms. Decker, please.” Patrick interrupts her. “You do know you’re at the very top of our guest list, right?”

Oh. Oh.

She can’t help but glance in Lucifer’s direction, who’s currently deep in conversation with Maze, his right-hand-ninja-demon-bartender-whatever, pouring over what appear to be business records. He’s in a dark ensemble today, hair just the tiniest bit ruffled from their work, and he’s smirking at something Maze said. It suits him, all of it.

The very top, huh?

“Well, let me just…”

She makes to scramble for her wallet, but Patrick only shakes his head at her, chuckling softly.

“Do you want me to lose my job, Detective Decker?”

At that, she takes the offered drink with a grateful, earnest smile, tipping it briefly in salute to him before turning in her seat to face her partner’s club in full swing.

The stakeout had been a complete bust, she can admit that, but it had also been in close proximity to Lux. Lucifer had offered his penthouse to regroup and go over the case files again, Dan had Trixie for the night, and Chloe had agreed to his plan fast enough not to second-guess herself.

As she watches the ecstatic dancing, she starts to relax. Tonight’s DJ is clearly talented, the base surprisingly isn’t too overwhelming for her, and Patrick has mixed her a whiskey sour, she recognizes, which is– Absolutely delicious, really. Tart, sweet, perfectly balanced – and probably also ridiculously expensive. But, guest list.

Who knew having a night club owner for a partner came with such perks?

Said night club owner is still talking with Maze, though, and Chloe hopes he–

“Hello, beautiful.”

Oh, no.

The man stands right in front of her, and it’s too late to turn back to the bar again. Someone trying to flirt with her is the last thing she needs tonight. She opens her mouth to say so, but gets interrupted.

Rude.

“I’m George, by the way. I’ve been watching you since you came in. You’re such a pretty little thing.”

George is in his late forties, by her guess, and passably attractive. He’s also condescending, drunk, all but shouting in her ear and standing way too close for her comfort.

“Sorry, but I’m not in the mood for–“

She halts because he’s just put his right hand on her thigh, clammy fingers reaching toward her ass.

No. Definitely no.

“What’s your name, sweetheart? Tell me while we’re dancing, alright?”

Both of his hands clutch at her skin now, insistently, and she’s helpless at the instinctual well of fear inside of her. But not helpless against him.

Her fingers find her badge easily, and she reckons it’ll be enough to scare George into–

“What’s going on here?”

Lucifer’s voice is sharp and cold next to her, and she breathes easier instantly. George’s hands slip from her legs, and his gaze flicks between them in confusion. She knows the look Lucifer has fixed on him right now, knows the deadly calm, disquieting focus of eyes that sparkle for her, and she loves that it makes the other man squirm.

This is so much more satisfying than just flashing her badge at him, and – hold on, jerk – it’s about to get even better.

“Oh, Lucifer! Let me introduce you to George here. George, meet Lucifer, my boyfriend.”

“Boyfr–“

She elbows him to get him to shut up, then leaps from the bar stool and wraps her arm tight around his waist, pulling him to her.

Lucifer tries to sputter more, but when she looks up at him, he swallows and recovers enough to put his arm around her shoulders, the sensation somehow featherlight. Maybe she should be more shocked at how nice his touch feels in contrast, how right.

“I– I… I didn’t realise–“

George’s stammering is ridiculous, the crimson blush on his face betrays his embarrassment, and the way he tries not to cower speaks of how effective Lucifer’s psycho tricks are. Chloe fervently hopes their show will be cringy enough for George to stop him from bothering anyone else tonight.

“Oh, it’s a fresh thing,” Lucifer beams, now clearly onboard with her plan to cause maximum mischief.

She can’t not grin at how giddy he looks, and raises up on her toes to press a kiss to his cheek. He smells of luxurious cologne, maybe sandalwood, and something that’s just inexplicably him, something warm and intoxicating that makes her want to trail her lips down his neck to mouth at his collarbone.

What happened to being repulsed on a chemical level, exactly?

Her kiss probably turns out less chaste and fake than she intended, and when Lucifer’s smirk slips off his face and his eyes find hers, fingers hovering over where her lips were, she fumbles.

“Babe, let’s… Grab our stuff and head to the penthouse, yeah?”

She turns to gather her bag and the casefiles without waiting for an answer. When she’s facing Lucifer again, he nods at her, a cheeky little smile curling his mouth for her eyes only. They only spare George a glance when they leave, walking closely. Lucifer’s palm rests at the small of her back, barely touching, warm, soothing.

It stays there until they arrive at the elevator, when Lucifer withdraws it to punch in the code. Chloe immediately mourns its absence, but the doors slide open for them and Lucifer gestures for her to go in first.

His eyes are intent on her, his expression uncharacteristically open, almost insecure. There’s wonderment there as well, and awe. She smiles at him in return, unguarded and joyful because she wants to, and maybe because she’s just a little awed herself.  

–

Chloe’s smile warms him like the sun, but he’s still apprehensive, and he can’t shake the image of that dullard’s hand on her thigh from his mind. The doors close behind them, and Chloe sags against the wall across from him, relieved. Or deflated, rather?

“Detective, are you alright though? I should have noticed that insolent, boorish nitwit sooner, I apologise­–“

“Lucifer, no. I’m okay! There’s nothing to apologise for. I was just about to show him my badge, actually, but when you showed up… Well, I hope what we did will be more effective.”

Oh.

What they did.

Nothing, really. But he still feels a band of warmth where she’d pulled him into her side, and his skin still prickles where she’d pressed her lips to his cheek. It never felt like this before. Why does it feel different? What is she doing to him?

And why, why can’t he stop thinking about how her body felt underneath his hands?

(Soft, bare ivory instead of blazers and jeans and suits. His fingers wander, and her body yields to his, breathless sighs taking the place of clever quips and banter. She’s his Detective, she’ll always be, but here, in the gentle darkness of sins and holy things, here with him, she’s only Chloe. They’re wrapped around each other, flesh and bones and soul, and she moans in his ear. His name has never sounded sweeter than on her tongue, and he groans and he kisses her and–)

“Lucifer?”

He clears his throat, and it’s too loud in the small space, jarring. She’s studying him with her sea foam eyes, curious, and she has no right to be so beautiful in her simple white blouse and black jeans. His heart still thumps in his chest, and he needs to touch her, to be touched by her again, so very badly.

The Devil, tempted.

“Well… Well, I’m sure it was. Effective, that is. But I’ll text Maze to chuck him out anyway. There’s no room for miscreants like him in Lux, after all.”

He unlocks his phone to do just that, and he’s glad for the task, the distraction it provides him.

“Oh, that’s… That’s good. Thank you, Lucifer.”

He pauses and nods, trying for nonchalance and failing miserably.

There’s that rush coursing through him again, this exquisite high he’s never quite managed to recreate since, no matter how many of his favourite substances and bedfellows he’s been combining.

And it’s… It’s just her, he realises with sudden, aching clarity. Her, and how she… The way he feels when–

“Lucifer, are you okay? I hope I didn’t overstep earlier. I mean, I…”

He wants to claw at his collar, flee, needs to kiss her until he can’t breathe anymore.

Chloe…

How come she knows him so well already? How come she sees right through him when he’s spent literal eons perfecting his masks, his charades? All the walls he built in loneliness and despair, the last defences meant to protect him from more hurt and pain, they crumble and give easily before her.

Why does he want them to?

The elevator dings, and he’s saved by the bell.

“Nonsense, Detective. You know me, always up for some good old-fashioned roleplay! Now, tell me what drink I can pour you, darling.”

–

He’s oddly quiet next to her. So far, she’s counted several excellent opportunities for a bit of Luciferish commentary, but he’s used none of them. His contributions to the conversation are thoughtful, but clipped, any attempts at jokes half-hearted at best.

By now, it has worry eating at her insides, the unsettling feeling slowly replacing the strange euphoria from before, from when he’d touched her.

Although the question is on the tip of her tongue, she doesn’t ask him if he’s fine. Again.

He is focused on her though, there’s no doubt about that. His eyes follow the movements of her hands where she spreads and rearranges the evidence on the coffee table in front of them, and every so often, he nods in agreement to something she has said.

When he takes a sip of his brandy, she doesn’t acknowledge the slight tremor of his fingers.

“So, that’s why I think you were right, yesterday. We tailed the wrong guy after all.”

A statement as rare as this should earn her a gleeful, exuberant “Detective!” at the very least. Instead, he only smiles distractedly, barely even looking at her, and gets up from the chair across from her abruptly.

O…kay?

He starts to pace in the open space of the penthouse, and although she should probably gather her things and leave so he can sort out… whatever this is, she feels compelled to watch him. To stay with him.

He doesn’t seem to notice her concerned staring at all, his graceful long lines tense in a way they usually aren’t, his eyes distant and his mouth set in a hard line. It’s such a far cry from his bubbly joy from earlier, and she doesn’t understand.

A predator, she thinks, but scared and backed into a corner.

What could possibly unnerve him like that?

He drags a trembling hand through his hair, the hair that’s always meticulously and perfectly styled, and it’s all wrong.

Maybe she can get him to talk by dragging him back to their case? A little bit of projecting never hurt nobody, either.

“So, Lucifer, what did you think about–“

“Can I touch you?”

“What?”

–

No. No, no, no, no, no.

“I… I’m sorry Detective, I didn’t… I‘m actually not feeling so well tonight? We should… We should go through the files at the precinct tomorrow. Alright, see you then!”

“No Lucifer, wait. What did you mean by that?”

Her eyes are bright and sharp when she’s focussed on him like she is now. Detecting mode on. She’s raw and unbridled energy, always hunting for the deeper truth, ready to pounce, ready to deliver justice, ready to bring whoever stands in her way to their knees.

She doesn’t know that before her, he’d sink to his knees willingly.

Chloe arches her eyebrows at his silence, and it’s a visceral effort to tear his thoughts away from her beauty.

“I– I just… When you–“

He has to stop and releases a shaky breath, feeling unsteady and disturbed by all this want, this pathetic longing that Chloe surely will have no need for.

“Lucifer, it’s alright, talk to me. We both… You make me vulnerable as well, remember? What do you need?”

He can’t lie to her.

“I– I want to touch you again, Detective. It felt… I know we only made believe, but I just–“

“Okay.”

It’s his turn to gape, now.

“What?”

Chloe tilts her head, considering. This can’t be a smirk she’s trying to hide. Can it?

“Wellll, I seem to have slept with my neck at a terrible angle last night, and my shoulders and back have been killing me for weeks now. I think… I could do with a back rub, actually. So…?”

She beckons him with sparkling eyes, smiling knowingly, and he’s helplessly lost.

“I– At once, darling.”

He crosses over to her, and tries to joke about massage oil and his comfortable bed, but it all gets stuck in his throat. He settles gingerly behind her on the couch eventually, his heart beating wildly and his stomach in knots, feeling as though he has never even touched a woman in his entire life.

And is this… Is this really what she desires? He has no way of knowing, will probably ruin things between them, and–

Chloe cranes her neck to look back at him, nothing but warmth in her gaze.

“Stop overthinking and worrying, okay? I want– I want this, too.”

He nods, completely enthralled by all her mercy, but she turns to face forward again, lifting her hair away from her shoulders. Just like that, her soft skin is bared before him, and he drinks in the graceful lines of her exposed neck and back. Without even intending too, his fingers card through her hair, carefully smoothing it to one side.

She sighs, and he brushes his fingertips over the expanse of her back, his hands coming to rest lightly atop her shoulders.

He knows it’s no small gift to have earned the trust of his Detective, and he’s not sure if he deserves it, but fuck, he’ll give his all to be what she needs, to give her everything she could ever want. He doesn’t understand his feelings, any of it, but he understands desire, and it has never been clearer to him what it is that he desires. Uncaring Devil façade be damned.

He starts with gentle pressure, massaging her with all the care and skill he possesses, and it is exactly as exhilarating as he thought it would be. She’s melting into him, her body welcoming and pliant under his hands, and he can’t quite believe she allows him to touch her like that.

When he tries digging his knuckles in a tad more forcefully, her surprised, pleased moan sends blood rushing towards his groin. He shivers, does it again, and–

“Yes, Lucifer, just like that. Right there, yes.”

This unfamiliar, all-consuming need is clawing out of him again, and it’s all he can do to clench his jaw, flex his fingers, and comply with her demand.

It’s not just that he can finally touch her, either. He can smell the nuances of her perfume, her shampoo, even her fabric softener. He feels her warmth and the rush of her blood, the vibrancy of her soul against his fingers. She should be just one simple human, but her life is more precious to him than he can even fathom, and everything about her calls to him like nothing, like no one before her ever has.

He continues to sweep his hands over her body, kneading down alongside the vertebrae of her spine, and her sounds of pleasure get him more drunk than all his booze ever managed.

When he’s arrived at her waist again, he stills her hands on her body and lets his forehead rest gently against her back. His breathing is heavy by now, but so is hers. He’s still not sure what they’re doing, but he has to ask before he goes insane. Slowly he moves his hands so that he’s cradling her waist, embracing her more fully. Surely she’ll flee now?

“Is this okay?”

To his surprise, Chloe covers his hands with her own, even pulls his fingers under her blouse suggestively.

“Yeah, Lucifer.”

He swallows hard, and finally dares to press his lips to her neck, peppering the skin he kneaded earlier with soft, open-mouthed kisses. There’s a small intake of breath, then Chloe sighs and arches her back as if to give him more access. He’s dizzy from it all, high on the sounds he can elicit from her, finally.

His fingers drift upward over her ribs of their own volition, but just below the temptingly full swell of her breasts, he hesitates.

“Chloe… Please, please tell me to stop when you need me to. I– I don’t want you to regret anything.”

To regret me.

Almost abruptly, she turns in his arms again. Her eyes focus on his for a second, intent and searching, then she drops her gaze to his mouth. She wets her lips, cradles his face with both of her hands, and claims his mouth with her own.

He groans against her lips, helplessly, and finally, gently cups her breasts. As if she set out to drive him mad specifically, she wears a simple lacy T-shirt bra under her blouse. He can feel everything through its material. When he flicks his thumbs over her stiff nipples, Chloe whines against his lips, nearly breaking off their kiss, and fuck, has he ever been harder in his life?

He takes his time to explore her, thoroughly, committing her shape and feel to his memory in case she decides never to grant him this again, and laughs when Chloe bites down on the swell of his lower lip.

“Lucifer,” she breathes against him, and it sounds even better than it did in his fantasy. She looks as dazed and unbelieving as he is, but her eyes are frantic with need. He wants nothing more than to please her, in whatever way he can.

“Let me take care of you, love. Please.”

She nods, and he slowly turns her in his arms. She leans fully against him now, not an inch of space between their bodies, and he notices the way her heart races.

He dreads the second she’ll leave him.

Almost timidly he lets his hands trace over her body until they’re resting at the tops of her thighs. When his hands hover over her fly, his resolve wavers again. Chloe saves him, pulling her zipper down quickly and wriggling, adorably, to give him more space.

She couldn’t state more boldly that she wants this, now, and the Devil might just come in his pants like a horny teenager.

Only their breathing fills the quiet as he slowly reaches to cup her over her panties, and they groan together at the first connection, as he realizes how drenched she is from what they’ve been doing.

“You kill me,” he whispers against the shell of her ear, then pushes her underwear aside because he has absolutely zero restraint left.

He’s allowed to touch, and she’s swollen and dripping wet. For him. He mouths at her neck, wraps his hand around her throat lightly when she throws her head back, and it’s intoxicating, all of it.

It would almost certainly be embarrassingly easy to get her off in this state. (Hell, he can barely keep himself in check, and he has eons of practice.) A few determined strokes, a handful of precise circles around her clit, and she’d be gone, he reckons. But this is not at all what she deserves, not at all what he wants to give her, now.

Instead, he takes his sweet time, caressing every inch of her, spreading her wetness with fingertips and knuckles, worshipping her silky skin. He keeps his touches deliberately featherlike, as if anything more would shatter her, but he knows it’s him that’s fragile, and he finds he’s not ashamed of it anymore.

She’s restless in his arms, writhing against his body, and he’s sure he bruises her hip with his left hand, but she doesn’t mind, keeping it there by pressing her own above it, linking their fingers together tightly.

Like this, only teasing and exploring, he brings her to the edge.

He senses when she’s almost there, and it’s glorious. She’s trembling and twitching, gifting him with quiet little whimpers he will treasure forever, and grips his thigh with enough force he has to bite back a grunt. (It hurts, and isn’t that marvellous in itself?)

But this is not how he wants to do this, and so he withdraws his fingers at what is possibly the last possible moment before she reaches her peak.

“Fuck, Lucifer– Why did you stop?!”

He almost feels sorry at the desperate lilt of her voice, almost. But pleasure is one of the few things he’s good at, and he knows this will be worth it in the end.

“I know, I know. Fuck, you feel so good, darling. Trust me when I say I know what I’m doing. I’ll stop your pleasure one more time and then I’ll make you come, I promise. If you don’t think it was worth it after that, you can throw me out of my own house, you have my word.”

She chuckles weakly, thankfully, then throws her head back again when he wastes no time and pushes one finger inside her.

“Ugh, Lucifer… More like you’ll do– Fuck. You’ll do my paperwork for a month.”

He smiles against her skin, both because of their banter and at the thought of him actually doing paperwork. He’s glad she doesn’t make a real deal out of it, but then, he trusts his abilities, doesn’t he?

She gasps when he finds her G-spot, and the way she clenches around him makes his eyes roll back in his head. He’s not sure which colour they are anymore. But all that matters is her pleasure, and he lets himself get lost in it.

He brings his thumb to massage her folds, all the sensitive spots he discovered earlier, but is careful to avoid direct contact with her clit. She keens in his arms, moaning openly, and he watches every beautiful reaction play across her face. He never wants this to stop.

A second finger follows the first, and he grazes sensitive nerves over and over, makes her grind against his fingers inside her. She pulses rhythmically around him, and the feel of her heat and strength maddens him.

“Lucifer, please, it’s so good…”

She almost sounds delirious by now, and it’s a conscious effort not to come just from this, just from seeing her carefree and lost in pleasure like this.

“Hold on for me, love, once more–“

He removes his hands from her body, and she whines and whips her head around immediately, crashing her lips to his with a fierce intensity that takes his breath away.

“Make me come already,” she demands against his mouth, and he groans helplessly.

He keeps her like she is now, wanting to watch when she finally falls apart, and returns his hands to her. With his left hand, he cups her breast, teasing a nipple with insistent, back-and-forth-strokes that earn him an exhale and hands fisting in his hair.

Two fingers of his right hand slip inside her again, snug against her G-spot, and he’s holding back nothing. Finally, he presses his thumb directly against her clit, in rough, dirty circles, just the way she needs now, and never lets his eyes leave hers.

After all the build-up, she’s completely lost in it, her face soon scrunching up in sensation beautifully and her fingers bruising his skin. He lets his forehead fall against hers and gasps with her, committing everything to his memory.

Her orgasm starts in little tremors and ripples across her body. Tangled up with her as he is, he feels them all, feels her clench around his fingers like a vice grip. Her mouth falls open, her eyes press shut, and finally, with his thumb circling her relentlessly, she freezes up in his arms and comes with a wail that cuts right through him.

He swallows it with his mouth, and he kisses her tenderly, smiling against her lips as she rides his hand through her peak, clinging to his body and whimpering softly.

Only when she goes limp and boneless in his arms he carefully removes his hands from her, breaking their kiss and opening his eyes to take her in, flushed and euphoric with pleasure. It’s the most beautiful, rapturous sight.

He brings his fingers to his lips because he has to, and he groans at her taste in his mouth, revels in the breath she sucks in.

“Fucking– Shit, Lucifer. You really had every right to brag all this time, didn’t you?”

She’s breathless and gorgeous and happy, and he always wants to be the reason she is.

“Course I did, darling,” he retorts automatically, but he can’t help the shit-eating grin, and he can’t help how not-unaffected he sounds.

Her smile dims a little, though, and it’s ridiculous how fast he panics. If she leaves now, he’ll be ruined forever.

“I– I know this is maybe not the right time, but I just… I guess I need to know if I’m just another notch in your bedpost, you know? If I am, if we are, I don’t know­, more than– Ah shit, forget I said anything.”

She leans in to kiss and distract him, but he stops her with a finger, understanding perfectly for once.

Chloe couldn’t be farther away from being just another notch in his bedpost, he realises. She is light and everything good that’s been missing from his existence. His heart stutters inside his chest, but the thought that someone could hold power over him loses its terror when he’s looking at her, when her emerald eyes shine like they do now.

“You are, Chloe. We are,” he vows, and it’s the absolute truth.

Voicing it aloud lends his devotion a shape, and he knows the word humans would use to describe his feelings. Some dark part of him still scoffs at the notion of him ever being able to love someone, much less being loved in return, but nevertheless, he knows it’s love that spreads like fire in his veins, that settles like a comforting weight in his chest, that floods his battered heart with life and his soul with hope.

“Really? Oh, thank God,” Chloe mumbles before she kisses him again, and not even the mention of his father can take this giddy happiness away from him.

This is new. This is terrifying. But it is good, and this time, he cannot wait to fall.

“Lucifer,” Chloe breathes against his lips, and there is nothing but her.

[my-oh-my]

silver bullets and red roses: chapter one

hi! this is my first post, i started writing this series literally months ago and i forgot about it. i read it over again and got the cringe sweats but i edited it so its not overly horrific. dunkirk! harry was my late sexual awakening. so be kind!

Alex! Harry x Female OC

Warnings: PTSD (in a sense), war scenes - please, please, please don't read if anything makes you uncomfortable! its not worth it!

Summary: Rose Harrington joins her father in an attempt to save the men trapped at Dunkirk

Word Count: 1.73k

next chapter

masterlist

It was not difficult to spot Rose Harrington in a crowd of people. Her luminous smile was easy to find in room of others, her smile lit up the entire room – it was near impossible for her expression of happiness to catch onto your own. Though it seemed more challenging to find her than it originally seemed in the eyes of the Nazis situated in Dunkirk.

Rose Harrington was an exceptional young lady. Fluent in four different languages; Italian, French, German and English, the top of her school in academics, nurse and a British spy under the orders of the S.O.E to pose as a German Nazi nurse on the wretched battlefield in Dunkirk.

Though here she sat, on a dreary June day, listening cautiously to the radio cracking out words to keep the Nation up to date on the war situation. She watched as they steady rain tapped against the windowpane, the droplets racing each other to the bottom of the window. It had been a month since she returned from her deathly mission in Dunkirk, scenes which she had seen, endured, flashing through her mind every now and again causing her to inhale sharply or pinch her arm. She had seen death beyond belief, she had escaped death too many times to count on her polished fingers, but she would do it all again to know that she had helped a multitude of people by her actions.

A sudden noise awoke her from her unconscious daydreaming, the entrance door opening, causing her to jolt in her spot on the armchair. Rose gently rose to her feet, chasing the sound of the door and rattling. Her father’s figure came into view, making Rose ease her mind. She furrowed her brows as she noticed him search through doors of the cabinet, throwing keys onto the dark wooden surface on top.

“What’s happening?” Rose questioned, walking closer towards her father, who looked up at her in light shock, “They’ve called for little boats to rescue the men at Dunkirk, I’m going” He muttered, inspecting a key before placing it in his pocket and turning around in a hurry to the cupboard on the other side of the entrance. Rose studied him, determination beginning to course through her veins, “Ok, I am coming too” she pronounced softly, slipping on her black oxfords, “No. No you are not. You have done more than enough with this war. Plenty” He ordered, pointing his finger towards Rose sternly to which she returned with a shake of her head, “No. I want to do more. I can do more. It is for my country. You need help anyhow.” She insisted, clearly not straying from her decision by shrugging on her coat.

Joseph Harrington was a Captain in World War I. He suffered, he had to make several hard decisions which would haunt him in his later years. He loved his family dearly, but the weight of war on his shoulders sometimes became too heavy for him. On some occasions, when fireworks would boom through the neighbourhood on New Year’s Eve or he would read a newspaper recalling the events in the war, he would burst into fits of rage. Chairs, glassware and the delicate skin of the ones he loved would break when he came into these fits, leaving tears stained on everyone’s cheeks as they began to clean the mess made, Joseph sitting in his arm chair; a glass of bourbon resting in his trembling hands. The Harringtons knew that it was just shell shock, that he did not mean to do such things and they still loved him, but that did not stop them from pits of fear overwhelming their stomachs. Joseph was positive that letting Rose come with him was one of those decisions which would leave him overcome with distraught in the future, but he also knew his daughter. She was determined, she never gave up.

“You’re just like your Mother” he sighed, grabbing a bundle of ropes out of the cupboard and opening the front door, Rose smiled graciously before walking swiftly out the door.

“Diese britischen Bastarde werden keine Woche länger durchhalten (These British bastards won’t last a week)” a man spat, blood pouring out of his arm, a sizable gun shot wound evident in his bicep, “Wir töten sie wie nichts (We’re killing them like its nothing)” he continued. Rose sat him down on a stretcher, tying a bandage around the wound tightly whilst trying to not listen to the Nazi’s gross bragging. “Was passiert da draußen? (What’s happening out there?)” Rose asked innocently, looking up at the man’s wicked blue eyes curiously.

“Sie schicken sie nur unvorbereitet ab (They’re just sending them off unprepared)” he replied glancing at the other men in the open area, “Wir greifen sie heute Abend an, ein offenes Gebiet entlang der Küste des Strandes, wo sie sitzen (We're attacking them tonight, an open area along the coast of the beach where they're sitting)” he smirked proudly as Rose returned it with one of her own (of course it was fake, unbeknownst to him). “Ich weiß, dass du einen guten Job machst, das machst du immer, was mir den Job als Krankenschwester erleichtert (I know that you do a good job, you always do that, which makes my job as a nurse easier)” She smiled, beginning to clear the blood made by the man, who chuckled lightly at her joke.

“Heil Hitler (Hail Hitler)” he proclaimed, to which Rose strained a smile of pride. The man rushed away, laughing along with a bunch of men in their Nazi uniforms a few metres away from her. She made a mental note to ensure she did not leave any details out in her telegraph back home, these details meaning life or death for many men.

Rose could not see home. Nor could she see the blood-stained beaches of Dunkirk. She could only see the unforgiving deep blue waters of the ocean which stretched for kilometres, and boats. There were boats of all different sizes and colours littered along the water, all come together to save their men. She inhaled deeply, smelling the saltiness on the sea breeze and the petrol fumes expelling from her boat’s engine.

“It’s quite amazing, isn’t it?” Rose spoke out against the apprehensive silence which clouded the boat, “What is” her father muttered, eyes on the water in front of him as he steered the boat, “The number of people, number of boats” she replied looking around them at them all, a sense of patriotism filling her insides. The flag of the union jack whipped around behind them, cracking with the pride of the British.

The boat was a moderate size, with a timber finish and a deck below. It had become slightly rusty from the lack of use, blue paint beginning to crack and chip off on the sides. Nevertheless, she was still the Harrington’s beauty, Pegasus was her name. Before the war, before Rose had grown up, it was a family boat. On warm summer Saturdays, the Harringtons would take Pegasus for a dip into the Iris Canal, with packed ham sandwiches and a treat of a biscuit, courtesy of Doreen Harrington. Doreen and Joseph would sit back in the boat, Doreen perhaps reading a book whilst Joseph nostalgically smoked cigarettes. They seemed so calm in comparison to Charles and Rose, who were playfully splashing the cool water of the river at each other, laughter floating down the canal.

If you had met Charles and Rose, you would be surprised to hear that they were not Siamese twins separated. They were each other’s best friend, they never fought, they simply enjoyed one another’s company. Charles was a year older than his sister, a shy young man with outstanding engineering talents. As the war began to unfold, the unspeakable idea arose in the Harrington household brought up by Charles. “I must go, it would be cowardly if I didn’t” he spoke calmly to Rose who stared down into her lap, tears rolling unconsciously down her rosy cheeks. 

“Its not cowardly at all Charles. It is ok to not go, to say no to being killed.” She choked out, looking up at Charles who was standing in the doorway of her bedroom. “I’m not going to be killed, Rose. I will survive.” He breathed, walking towards Rose and kneeling in front of where she sat on her bed. Rose looked back down into her lap, fiddling with her perfectly polished hands. “Rose” he whispered, wrapping his hands around Rose’s little ones to stop her anxious fiddling. Rose stared deeply into her brother’s, the calming blue matching her own. “I promise, I will survive” he continued, a small sympathetic smile growing on his face. Rose breathed deeply, the thought of losing her brother becoming a little less overwhelming at his promise. “Even if you do survive, you’ll turn out like Dad” she muttered, a single tear falling. Charles sighed shakily, wiping the tear away with the back of his hand. “Not if I can help it” he smiled sympathetically, “I don’t think I’ll ever be as bald as him” he joked, grinning largely. Rose chuckled, sniffling up her last bits of sadness and pulling her broken parts back together.

The faint outline of the grey shores of Dunkirk beach began to appear as Rose and her father drew closer to the men. Rose inhaled, looking out towards the shore. She began to feel a slight pull at her stomach, and she hated herself for it. These men had been sitting ducks for months, a multitude dying in the meantime, she had merely spent a month in Dunkirk. Now was not the time to be fussed about her own apprehension, but rather saving heartbreak from families.

The dreadful smell of smoke and burning oil filled her nostrils, making her become suddenly alert. She studied along the surface of water, noticing a large ship beginning to capsize – smoke puffing from the wreck. “Dad” she walked over to the port side of Pegasus, trying to catch a closer glance. Joseph looked over to his daughter, staring past her shoulder at the mess of ships and smoke on the water. He remained focused on the sight, turning the boat around and accelerating her to the fastest she could go with a great roar from the engine.

[luzeliza29]

Chapter 5 of Obsidian Nate Sewell Dark Fantasy/ Adventure

The moon was full and bright against the night sky. They were only a couple of miles from the town of Chezia. All Amalia wanted to do at this point was to lay down and rest her aching muscles. The main path had diverged into the woods and the trees above them looked like darkened claws wrapped above their heads like a cage. She tightened her grip on the reigns.

Over the treetops, they saw a plume of smoke rising into the sky. The acrid smell of smoke wafted through the air. She felt a sense of apprehension creeping into her mind. She tried to shrug off her unsettling feeling. It’s probably just some nighttime traveler, setting up camp for the night. But why not just go to Chezia then, she thought.

“Do you smell it?” Nate asked.

“The smoke?” Amalia said.

Nate turned to her; his brows knit together in worry. “No.” He frowned. “Burning flesh.”

Amalia’s stomach dropped. There was only one path forward and they were going to have to go around. She wasn’t about to spend the night in the forest, not for a long while. Nor was she in the mood to meet many new people in the middle of the night.

“Can you see or hear anything?”

Nate paused and stared forward into the road before them. “It’s a little far away and the trees are obscuring anything.” He paused and cocked his ears and listened attentively. “I hear a man talking though. It sounds like he’s chanting but I can’t make out what he’s saying.”

“Okay let’s see if we can go around. I’m not about to throw myself into the middle of somebody’s nighttime cult activities.”

“Agreed.”

Amalia felt glad Nate was with her now and that he was a vampire. She felt surprised at the thought that she could feel so at ease with a vampire at her side in the middle of the night. But when she read him, she realized that he was still as much of a human inside as anybody else.

Amalia and Nate slowly edged their horses to the border of the forest and slightly into the forest. The only sound was the slight crush of fallen branches. The forest was completely still around them. They cautiously rode along the path, taking care to not make a lot of noise.

A few minutes passed when the path they had just stepped off of opened into a clearing.

“I can’t hear the chanting anymore” Nate whispered. “It just stopped.”

Amalia gulped. “We’ve got to be careful then. They can’t have noticed us, right? I was sure the trees were thick enough to conceal us.”

They rode a little deeper into the forest, and out of the corner of her eye, Amalia saw a glimpse of the clearing to her side.

The acrid smell of smoke bit at her nose. Amalia glimpsed the silhouette of a man in the middle of his back turned away from him.

The man didn’t seem to notice them. Nate was carefully watching the man, uneasiness written all over his face.

The sound of chirping insects stopped. The air went still around them, the slight nighttime breeze halting abruptly. It felt like the forest around her had suddenly pressed closer to them and it was turning its eyes towards them.

Amalia felt the amulet flare urgently underneath her cloak. She didn’t want to look over and see.

But she looked.

And saw the man staring straight at her, peering at her through the darkness. Even through the dark of the forest, she knew that he knew exactly where they were. And he watched.

For a moment.

And then he sprinted toward them, with frightening speed.

Slivers of moonlight illuminated his darkened silhouette. His hands were darkened with blood and his face, his ungodly, inhuman face made her skin crawl. His soulless eyes shone like two bright beams of light. What was his mouth, was just a crescent of streaked light across his face in an expression of deranged, joyful glee dripping with blackened blood.

She felt Nate pulling her. “Come on we’ve got to go!”

She kicked her horse at full speed. They galloped away, riding through the forest. Branches whipped her face as she rode, but she didn’t care about the pain. Nate rode slightly behind her and he saw him glance back at the thing chasing them.

The man was catching up to them. The closer he got, it seemed like his eyes shone brighter and his twisted mouth of white light seemed to stretch farther across his face. He ducked and jumped over branches and brambles with ease.

They crossed the edge of the forest and back onto the main path. Dirt and dust flew up in a flurry as they rode on the empty path towards Chezia.

“We’re getting close. I can see the town up ahead!” Nate shouted.

Amalia didn’t see anything but thank God for Nate’s vampire senses. She felt a moment of brief relief that they near the town.

She glanced behind and saw that the man had stopped in the middle of the road a couple of yards back, his empty grin now slashed across from ear to ear.

A sudden rush of cold wind brushed her face. A sudden chill crept up her spine and she felt the soft whisper of a voice curl around her ear.

“See you soon.”

Amalia and Nate looked at each other. By the worried and fearful look on his face, he had heard it too.

[risingsouls]

Recruited: Prologue

[I suck at titles so excuse the lameness of me just using the name for Nabooru’s new verse. 

So I decided to write actual shit for this because I’m in love with the idea and exploring it. This is just some background on how shit gets set in motion but you can have it anyway. :3]

Nabooru had witnessed falling stars before, trails of light streaking through the sky on clear nights. But never had she seen such a display at midday. Watched them crash into the desert sands with such force as to quake the ground beneath her feet, the edifice she and her people resided in shuddering in protest.

If they had been shooting stars, she would have made a wish on them like a child still so filled with hope for the world. She would have wished for clairvoyance, to know the dreadful shift her life would take, delivered by this phenomenon.

After helping to quell the excitement and panic, she joined Ganondorf and a group of the Elite to investigate. They found that the stars were no stars at all but spherical contraptions embedded in deep pits they created in the sand. They cracked open like a quintet of eggs and out stepped a crew of people the likes she had never seen before, their features all varied and strange to her down to the clothes they donned. 

They hardly noticed the pair of Gerudo step forward despite the king’s size as they conversed among themselves. Planning. Doling out orders. Three took to the air without aid that she could see, leaving the Gerudo in awe. The two remaining--a shorter fellow with a snowy mohawk and reptilian features and a burly warrior with dark hair and sea-colored skin--approached and demanded we offer refuge. Nabooru opened her mouth to protest, but the lizard man raised a hand, a yellow sphere of light forming in his palm and aimed at her chest. Baffled by the technique, on edge over its similarity to magic, she closed her lips again. The message was clear: comply or die.

The band of Gerudo lead the strangers back to the Fortress and Nabooru's unease was reflected back at her on each of the Elite's faces. Ganondorf’s tense jaw and posture, the cogs working behind his eyes as he, too, strategized ways to keep their people safe while wondering who they were, what they wanted. Friend or foe. I could see Aveil desperate to speak to me and convey her own ideas or perhaps make a joke about their appearance to relieve the tension in the furtive glances she shot between myself and the pair. Avira's hands never once left the hilt of the broadsword at her back, and I noticed a flash of silver pressed in Valis's palm. When we passed through the gates, onlookers peered around corners, stopped their training to stare, but the king's glares and the presence of these two kept them all at a distance.

The Elite meeting room was the first stop. A compromise to the initial request. Information for comfort. Nabooru sat on Ganondorf's right side, Aveil next to her, their guests seated directly across from them. The rest of the Elite filled in along the table, all eyes locked on the newcomers. She was grateful that Ganondorf wasted no time with introductions or greetings. Though the warning in his tone when he demanded they state their business only caused the two to exchange smirks. Haughty and overconfident like the stuffed-shirt nobles of Hyrule's court when either of them spoke. Nabooru wrapped her legs around the legs of her chair to keep from springing over the table and tearing them from their faces, that sphere of light poised toward her heart stark in her memory.

The lizard man answered with the ease of being used to such conversations, of someone with nothing to hide. The five of them were soldiers for the ruler of a galactic empire, words that only half made sense to Nabooru. He sent them to the planet to scout its resources, to see if it held any promise as an addition to their empire. When pressed on what that meant for them, the two once more exchanged darkly amused glances, and the dire explanation, blunt and up front, revealed why: they either found usefulness in the planet and its people or it and them would be exterminated.

A million questions swirled around in her panicked mind, most of which fell to pieces before they could reach coherence. Every sinew screamed that they should attack, but the weight of dread and apprehension pinned her and the rest of the Gerudo to their seats, masks of indifference threatening to slip and reveal the desperation and anger they had all felt for years. Hyrule's offences suddenly felt as insignificant as the bite of ants.

The second soldier spoke up before anyone could articulate further questions with one of his own. He saw the warriors training, called attention to those who had welcomed them,all armed and in peak physical condition, and asked if they were warriors. That their power levels, whatever that meant, suggested as much, dismal as they were. Nabooru could see Ganondorf felt the sting of an insult neither of them could quite grasp yet, but answered proudly that Gerudo are taught to fight from the moment they could remain upright and hold a sword. 

As the conversation continued along this vein, Nabooru's apprehension welcomed curiosity when they hinted at such information at least being promising toward their survival. Potentially. A new means of combat for her to learn and strengthen herself. They mentioned something called ki, the energy he had used to threaten her, and Nabooru failed to hold her tongue. Was it magic, then? Both laughed and assured her it wasn't, that even a band of weaklings like them could harness ki or life energy and become an army capable of razing this entire planet and more. Another slight, but in the glance she and the Gerudo king shared, the glimmer of something akin to hope and a desire for strength they both shared to some degree sparking in their eyes, she knew they both wanted to unlock the secrets of this ki. A way to solve their current problems. To fight by their own means rather than artifacts not meant for them just as she always hoped.

Neither of them liked the prospective offer they set on the table for the newcomers, a sentiment shared between the king and his second the following evening as they pored over the same maps that often lead to their more heated arguments, the dead end strategies doomed more than one of them, ripped to shreds in frustration. In futility and helplessness. It was like swapping one ruler for another, but neither had cared to doubt their glib explanation of their business there. With some apprehension, Ganondorf had explained the growing tension within the country, the ire and fear of their neighbors that threatened to slowly suffocate and end their race entirely. How they fought to stave off war with diplomacy and promises of unity, a war they could only dream of winning with the scars of the last one still so fresh. It always shocked her how easily he shifted into the role of the humbled king, how he wove his passion for his people back into his words, his motives, his being. She saw the king she was proud of, the man she fell in love with all those years ago.

The bargain was simple: Ganondorf offered the Gerudo as a standing army to rule over the planet for this emperor of theirs in exchange for training in using ki which would help them overtake the current governing body. Nabooru added that, as natural warriors, the Gerudo learned quickly, and would not cost them much time. She also suggested they teach the Elite warriors first and that they could pass the knowledge on to the rest of the tribe, rather than expend time and soldiers of their own on training an entire army.

Though an agreement hung in the air, the soldiers informing them they would need to run that and the rest of their report by their emperor, Nabooru felt an elation she had not felt in years. A sense that they might finally make progress. She wanted peace, but Hyrule had made it apparent that wasn’t an option. The prospect that they could triumph and survive, to discontinue scraping by, she couldn’t help herself. And to be on the same page as the man she devoted herself to working with--someday ruling beside--after so many long months of disagreements and fights...to see a glimmer of the future she thought they could no longer sustain…

They made love that night. Truly. Deeply. Lovingly. Not as the result of a heated argument, a need for release or the adrenaline after a sparring session. Though the thought of impending doom occurred to her and spurred a second and third round before she tucked herself against his side for sleep, the thought that this could be their last night, such anxiety played a secondary role to her bolstered spirits.

Spirits that only soared higher into the cloudless desert sky when the soldiers returned with the rest of their crew and news that their emperor, Frieza, had agreed to the terms. Training commenced immediately, and Nabooru flourished. She felt like a kid again, handed her very first proper sword and learned to wield it. When she tapped into the energy slumbering within her, it amazed her how natural it felt. The skills, the strength she could have had all that time. Flight, blasts fired from her hands that tore through solid plateaus. It was invigorating. She obsessed over mastering it and challenging herself to reach new heights, finding time outside of the formal training sessions to train more. To spar with Aveil, Avira, Ganondorf, or any of the other Elite who would humor her. 

If only she had known her zeal for combat would someday bite her. That she would find her proclivity for fighting, her love and enjoyment of it, a hindrance over an aid.

How it would cost her everything.

Each Gerudo had to brace themself as the gargantuan ship flew low over the fortress, the gust left in its wake ripping flags from their standards and sand whipping through the air. It landed just outside the gates in far more graceful fashion than the pods the others arrived in. Their five guests scrambled to round up all the Gerudo and assemble them in front of the fortress, barking orders to straighten clothing or to stop looking so slack-jawed. Many aired their grievances with the rushed treatment, their confusion over the unidentified craft that flew overhead. But the sight of it working the galactic soldiers into a frenzy made sense with the whispers and off-handed comments made during their stay once they finally illuminated the significance of the ship: Frieza had arrived.

Nabooru stood at Ganondorf’s side as a chair carrying a horned, diminutive creature hovered toward them tailed by two what she could only guess were his guards or generals, and she followed suit in bowing along with the rest of her tribe and the soldiers. Her gold gaze lifted in curiosity to watch them, to understand why the emperor was so feared and surmise if the horror stories his men told them rang true. She only had to stare into his crimson eyes and witness that condescendingly amused smirk once to discontinue doubting them.

The alarm bells should have sounded when he requested an audience with both her and Ganondorf. It made sense to want to speak with the one who would rule the planet in his stead. But to specifically request she join them after inquiring if she was the one he had been told about, she should have seen the signs no matter how futile a retreat would have been. Her pride blinded her to any possibility except her skill and power being seen as impressive for a beginner. Enough to have earned the emperor’s praise. 

She had only been half right.

The turn the conversation took after a cordial discussion of the planet’s landmarks and resources, of how the warriors handled the training and a prospective timeframe for the attack on Hyrule, had forced Nabooru to forget most of the details of anything prior. The world slipped out from beneath her when Frieza informed the king and his second that he would recruit Nabooru to his ranks due to her skill and unusually high power level for a denizen of a planet like this one, and explained that he couldn’t rightly take Ganondorf, the more powerful of the two, as he needed him to stay and rule as promised. He would settle for close second. As insurance, to feel that he was given as much as they took in their conquest of the planet.

Every fiber of her being screamed out in protest. How could she leave her home? Her people? Her lover? And after all they had worked for and accomplished and on the brink of sacking Hyrule and starting something so entirely new? They were her life, everything she threw every ounce of her essence into. But to refuse was death. Or worse, her people's slaughter over it. She could feel herself hollowing out with each passing moment, as the same hopelessness she thought she had left behind tore the feelings of assured victory from her heart. 

Ganondorf opened his mouth at last to speak for her, but she stopped him with a deep bow. "It would be my honor to serve you, Lord Frieza."

[thestruidora]

The Renegade

Supernatural Fanfiction

Rating: Explicit

WARNINGS: This story will contain but it’ll not be limited to explicit 18+ content including Obsessive Behavior, Smut, Car Sex, Shower Sex, Edging, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Fluff, Oral Sex, thigh riding, Dirty Talk, Praise Kink, Jealousy, Possessive Behavior, Love Triangle

Category: F/M

Pairings: Sam Winchester/Original Female Character, Dean Winchester/Original Female Character and Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester/Original Female Character

Summary: An angel is a spiritual creature, who dwells in heaven and serves as a messenger between God and the human race. They have no desires of their own, that is to say, they have not been given free will, as with men, and were created with the sole purpose of giving glory and fulfilling their Lord’s plan. For this reason, Eva would always be a renegade amongst her kin. A fallen angel receives no compassion or mercy, it is a black sheep strayed from its flock.

Author’s notes: Ok, so, I know, it has been a minute. Bear with me.

Chapter Three

The Times They Are A-Changin’

“The battle outside ragin’ Will soon shake your windows And rattle your walls For the times they are a-changin’” — Bob Dylan

“Witness? Witness to what?” Sam inquired in the midst of the confusion, the dust from Bobby’s living room being risen due to the strong winds.

“We need to go somewhere safe.” Bobby said before Eva could answer, gathering as many books as quickly as he could while he felt the atmosphere get cold, the breath he let out visible in the suddenly chilly air. “Follow me.”

They moved fast, trying to cover their eyes from the harsh air with their hands. The older man in front, guiding them as they went down through a flight of stairs into a lower level of the house that neither Sam or Dean had ever seen before. Opening a strong, tick iron door, Bobby allowed the three to enter into a special room before he got in himself, closing the door behind him.

The basement room was made entirely of iron and covered with pentagrams and Devil's traps. Sam and Dean took a good look around, not believing in what they were seeing.

“Bobby, is this...” Sam began, moving in to touch one of the walls.

“Solid iron. Completely coated in salt. 100% ghost-proof.” Bobby responded, a proud look on his face as he started to lay down the books he held on top of a small table nearby.

“You built a panic room?” Eva asked, sounding genuinely impressed, her eyes inspecting the writings on the walls.

“I had a weekend off.” Singer replied, shrugging while focused on the literature in front of him.

“Bobby.” Dean said, eyes landing on a poster of a swimsuit model that had been plastered on the wall around all other anti-supernatural symbols.

“What?”

“You're awesome.”

“I don’t know how awesome I feel right now, boy.” Bobby sighed, fixing the cap on his head and turning from his reading to the boys, receiving a puzzled look from them as he frowned in weariness. “There’s a bunch of angry ghosts out there and we can’t stay here forever.”

“We won’t have to.” Eva murmured in a distracted ton, seeming concentrated on the writings on the walls still, unaware of her hold on the three man’s attention on account of what she had said.

“Care to elaborate on that by any chance?” Bobby spoke when he realized she would not.

“Oh.” She finally acknowledge them, brown eyes darker in the low lighting of the panic room, a nonchalant report in her features as she proceeded to explain. “I know a spell, but I will need some things from the kitchen and the spell has to be cast over an open fire.”

“The fireplace in the library.” Sam was quick to suggest, looking fixedly at the way Eva kept trying and failing to remove the curly hair of her bangs from her forehead, as if unaccustomed to the feeling.

“Perfect.” The angel let out, giving up on the task and bringing her hands down in a frustrated motion.

“Hey, hold on a second there, Chief.” Dean’s voice filled the small area, bringing Eva’s attention in his direction, a slight grin of irritation forming by the side of her lips and in the gleam in her eyes. “My brother here is clearly infatuated by your…” His hazel orbs scanned her body up and down before he continued. “Godly attributes. But before we go anywhere near that door, risking our lives for a spell that you just pulled out your ass…”

“Oh my God.” Sam closed his eyes, head tilting up in disbelief.

“I’ma need some answers from you.” The dirty blonde haired man finished, crossing his arms on top of his chest, the muscles expanding in volume by the change in posture and creating a more imposing figure.

“Sure, Denny. I’m an open book.” The sound of Eva’s timbre was sweet and upbeat while she offered Dean two good blinks, a sarcastic smile adorning her face.

“Alright.” The older brother’s tough exterior faltered a bit as he was surprised by the angel’s cool demeanor, but taking a quick moment to clear his throat, he pulled through. “Let’s start with these ‘witnesses’. Why are they here?”

“They’ve been risen. That’s why it’s called the Rising of the Witnesses.” She responded, short and condescendingly, but the dark-skinned woman’s allusiveness was not lost on Dean.

“Who rose them?” He inquired.

“I’m not sure, but whoever it was, they did it on purpose.” The hunters shared a look, an intrigued frown in their features. “See, these ghosts, they were forced to rise. They are called Witnesses because they have witnessed the unnatural. None of them died what you'd call ordinary deaths. They woke up in agony. They're like rabid dogs. And the fact that they are all people that hunters, like yourselves, couldn’t save, it’s not a coincidence.”

“So you’re saying that who did this was targeting us?” Sam questioned.

“Most probably. Y’all do have some unfriendly acquaintances out there.” The way that she said it, so full and heavy with irony, plump lips moving around the words so slowly, finally became apparent to the taller Winchester, who gave out a puzzled look.

“And that’s why you’re here, Little Angel? To protect us?” Dean’s tone was challenging, provocative.

“Not quite.” Eva answered, punctuating her syllables. “Whoever did this had big plans. These ghosts being here is just the beginning. They are a prophecy, a sign.”

“A sign of what?” The siblings spoke together, their voices blending into each other, the same apprehension in them.

“The Apocalypse.” Her guise didn’t shift the slightest, keeping a serene composure while uttering her reply.

There was a sepulchral silence in the room. Bobby lowered his head and let out a long breath, a kind of recognition in his features, as if he already suspected that to be the truth. Sam’s eyes grew twice their seize, and he kept staring at the angel without blinking once, as if waiting for her to reveal that she had been joking. Dean’s mouth formed and reformed words that were never pronounced, his lips agape in a circular shape, brows knitted together in deep thought as he processed the repercussions of what was said, before he finally spoke.

“Apocalypse? The apocalypse, apocalypse? The four horsemen, pestilence, $5-a-gallon-gas apocalypse?”

“That’s the one.” Eva smiled an empty smile.

“So that’s why you’re here.” The shaggy-haired man said, a hint of accusation as he fixated his gaze at the girl. “Angels finally come to Earth and it’s the end of it.”

“That’s what I’m trying to stop.” She crossed her arms, tucking them underneath her breasts, sounding unaffected by the way that the Winchesters were reacting to her news. “There’s still time, but you two gotta be prepared.” She gestured to both of them, a superior air about her when she continued. “Big things are afoot.”

“Do I want to know what kind of things?” Dean was quick to ask.

“I sincerely doubt it, but you need to know.” She tipped her head to one side, her curls stirring gracefully with the tiniest of movements. “The Rising of the Witnesses is one of the 66 seals.”

“Okay. I'm guessing that's not a show at Seaworld.” Dean muttered from under he’s breath.

“Think of the seals as locks on a door.” Eva explained.

“Right.” Sam agreed, ears and eyes very open as he focused on everything she said. “Last one opens and…?”

“Lucifer walks free.” Her voice faltered for the first time in front of them, and all three hunters realized how her gaze didn’t met theirs.

“Lucifer?” The eldest Winchester said it way too fast, stuttering a little as he licked his suddenly dry lips. “You mean… Satan, the Ruler of the Underworld… The Devil? That Lucifer?”

Sam began to wander along the space, hands messing with his hair from the roots to the ends in a mechanic, stress reliving manner.

“He’s been locked in a cage for a long time now, and I believe that it would be in your race’s best interest that he stayed that way.” The curly-haired woman realized that she needed to regain control of the situation, upping the volume of her timber so that it resonated trough their emotions. “And in order for that to happen, I’m going to need you and your brother’s collaboration. Got it?”

“This is crazy.” Sam blurted out, hands still ruffling his hair when he stopped moving to face the angel again.

“Look, this is not some ‘monster of the week’ bullshit no more, ok? You guys have entered the big league now.” Eva’s deep brown eyes stared back at the light-colored ones with intention, reaching somewhere inside the hunters, somewhere that had been deemed dormant by them a long time ago, somewhere where their fears lived. “Welcome to the end of times.”

*

They had prepared themselves to leave the panic room as well as they possibly could, filling up many salt rounds to load their weapons with. The atmosphere in the place was cool and professional, almost sterile. The group worked in silence, the humans showing concern in their faces after the news that the angel had presented to them. She, in the other hand, helped to make the bullets in a steady pace, moving seamlessly and caring no emotion whatsoever in her features.

“So,” Dean began, once he realized that he couldn’t take the silence no more. “Since when do angels need guns to fight off some ghosts?” He looked over at her, realizing that she had progressed in the chore much quicker than he had. “Matter of fact, can’t you just snap your fingers and make them go back to rest?”

“If I could, I wouldn’t be stuck down here, stuffing cartridges with a condiment.” Eva didn’t make eye contact, focusing on the rough white substance that she handled, lips pursed together lightly while she felt it getting more and more under her fingernails.

“Are you always this delightful or today you’re in a special mood just for me?” Dean snapped back, finishing up and beginning to assemble his gun.

The woman let out a breath, closing her eyelids for a couple of seconds, seeming to be gathering her patience before she looked up at him with a much softer semblance.

“If they were normal ghosts, I could deal with them much faster, except they were risen to fulfill a specific purpose, in a specific way that renders my powers obsolete towards them.” Her tone wasn’t nice per say, but it was definitely more polite than what the men had grew accustomed to up to that point, and Dean found himself without knowing what to say next, before she finished off. “Happy?” The last word had such a subtle, corky mischievousness to it that made the blonde want to laugh, and he looked over at Sam for acknowledgment, receiving it right away as the younger brother was already smiling.

“Peachy.” Dean responded, deciding to give up on taunting the angel for now.

“Alright.” Bobby said, gathering up his things while the others did the same. “Cover each other. And aim careful. Me and Eva are going to need some backup to find everything we need for the spell. You boys don't run out of ammo until we’re done, or they'll shred you. Ready?”

“Not really.” Sam replied, little humor in his voice as him and Dean marched towards the door and got ready to open it. “Are you sure you know how to use that?” He asked Eva, who was holding on to her gun in a nonchalant manner.

“I saw humans discovering gunpowder, I think I can handle this.” The brunette gave the tall man a quick grin, not changing her posture in the way the held the weapon.

“Ok, then.” Dean let out, kind of enjoying the frown that was forming in his brother’s face the more he noticed the girl’s sarcastic and brass demeanor, right before he opened the door and they went on to fight some ghosts.

*

As it turns out, Eva’s deep knowledge of the human race’s history wasn’t enough to translate the theory of fire gun’s usage into practice. From the minute they left the panic room, all the enraged ghosts from the Winchesters' past attacked them with a vengeance, and the angel proved herself to be a terrible shot when dealing with them, not being able to once aim her weapon correctly. To the point of when the ghost of FBI Special Agent, Victor Henriksen, came upon them in Bobby’s kitchen, trying to stop them from gathering all the ingredients needed for the spell that would set the risen Witnesses back to rest, the woman almost got Dean while attempting to shoot at the flitting spectrum. Thankfully, his reflexes were quick and he was capable to dodge the projectile before getting hit, while Sam aimed straight into Henriksen’s chest, making him vanish into nothing.

“Ow!” Dean exclaimed when he jumped out of the bullets reach, noticing the small tear they created in his brown leather jacket, right at the arm. “Easy there, Tiger, don’t help us too much.” His hazel eyes glowed in a light, electric green, showing anger as he looked down at the small brunette, and he extended his hand out to grab the gun out of her fingers in a harsh movement, a disapproval in the way he stared, but she only shrugged.

“Ok, let’s just… Try not to die before the world ends.” Bobby said, irony in his voice as he rolled his eyes and kept moving fast, collecting everything that could be used in the spell provided by the angel.

As it were, the incantation worked, but nothing could be done about the seal that had already been broken. Eva left them as soon as the spirits disappeared, with only the sound of wings flapping to announce her exit. And the three man wondered, without actually saying it out loud, if they could trust the yet mysterious being, and if they could, who had been the one to purposefully break that seal and send those furious ghosts towards them?

The last answer came to Dean, later that day, when the sun was already out and they all slept. In his dreams, Castiel came to him, giving encrypted answers to all his questions, expect one.

“Who did the spell? Who rose the witnesses?”

“Lilith.” The blue-eyed angel responded, hard, firm features that seemed to be sculpted in marble, making Dean ask himself if that was a perpetual quality in all ‘Lord’s soldiers’. “Those seals are being broken by Lilith.”

“And what about your little friend, your work college? Showing up here out of nowhere and helping us out. What? You guys felt sorry for us all of the sudden?” Dean inquired, not understanding the puzzled look that Castiel gave back to him. “Eva? Sam’s guardian angel?”

There was a strong recollection that passed through the man’s face after Dean uttered his final words, and the hunter was about to probe more for information, but Castiel quickly moved his hand up to touch the human in the forehead, waking him up from his dream and ending their conversation.

The very first thing that the blonde saw once he opened his eyes was the dusty ceiling of Bobby’s old house, when he woke up in the sofa of the living room. Letting out a shaky breath, Dean closed his eyelids once again, relaxing back into the uncomfortable cushions, mind racing through the events that were dominating his and his brother’s lives. But the moment didn’t last long, as the full voice of the impertinent lady that kept reappearing in his thoughts made itself present in reality.

He moved way too quickly to look up from his laid down position, vision still blurred from sleep as the image of the curly head of the short, dark-skinned angel started to form clearly and he saw her there, leaned against a wall in Bobby’s kitchen with a bottle of water between her thin, long fingers, head pointing almost completely up as she managed to look at Sam, with who she was talking to. The scene seemed so surreal, so out of place to Dean that he had to blink a couple of times, rubbing the tiredness out himself as he got up from the sofa and slowly made his way to the kitchen’s entry, eyebrows frowned when he noticed the way Sam smiled a cheeky smile after being told something by the girl.

“Hem.” He oldest sibling cleared his throat, calling out their attention.

“Dean, look! Eva’s back.” Sam gave out a tight laugh when he realized Dean’s presence.

“Yeah, I see that.” The man stared at her up and down, intrigued by the fact that, differently from Castiel, Eva had changed her clothes from the last day.

“Good morning, Princess Di.” Her makeup clean face turned to him with a sarcastic smirk, dimples showing in her cheeks now that he saw her clearly in the light of day.

Dean laughed shortly after hearing the nickname, the provocative tone in her voice not lost on him.

“So, are you going to give us another mission, Charlie, or you just couldn’t stay away?” Dean leaned against the entrance, mimicking hers stance, his muscles rippling from under his thin sleep shirt and there was a challenge in the way they stared with one of their brows raised, without batting an eye.

“What, and miss your midwestern charm, Kansas boy?” Eva nipped back, her grin widening into a smile as they sized each other up.

Sam laughed openly then, finding the clear tension between his brother and the angel genuinely funny, especially in the way that the woman seemed to consistently come up with better comebacks at every turn.

“Can I speak to you for a second?” Dean asked her, a sudden seriousness taking over him, surprising both Eva and Sam. “Privately?”

“Oh,” She gathered herself quickly, putting her mischievousness facade back on, a smile so big adorning her face that they could see her straight white teeth then, as if she knew what he would want to talk to her about. “Sure, lead the way.” Her medium sized, unpolished, yet feminine nails tapped a couple of times on the lid of the water bottle she held, her thin writs catching Dean’s attention for a second too long, as he thought about how fragile she looked on the outside, at least until she opened her mouth.

The hunter gestured with his head towards one of the corridors that lead to the living room of the house, where they could be alone without anyone being able to hear them. Eva nodded, making a beeline towards the indicated place, and Dean shared a look with the taller man, noticing that he was puzzled by his older brother’s request, but nothing else was said, and Dean followed her to the corridor.

“Whats up?” She fixed her hair out of her eyebrows, trying to keep the curls of her bangs from her forehead, fingers going nail first into the roots and shaking the threads upwards, creating more volume to the mane that framed her face.

“You knew it had been Lilith this whole time, didn’t you?” Dean went straight to the point, crossing his arms upon his chest, shoulders seeming to expand with the motion.

“Yes, but I thought it would be wise to refrain that information from your brother.” Eva didn’t seemed to be faced whatsoever with his question, beginning to play with the plastic bottle in her hands, the sound of the water stirring side to side in the container attesting to that.

“Excuse me?” Dean wasn’t ready for her unbothered veneer, and his hands that held onto his on arms tightened visibly, knuckles withing with the pressure.

“Listen, during the time that you’ve spent away,” Her voice dropped in volume then, her soft spoken tone sounding so melodic and calming that it was almost capable of camouflaging it’s true purpose. “Sam has been venturing into some very dangerous activities. You know, with a demon.”

“Ruby?” Dean took the hint soon enough.

“Mm-hmm.” She nodded her head, lips pursed in irritation with the mention of the name.

“Look, whatever he has been up to with…”

“Some Basic Instinct type shit, Dean.” Eva interrupted him, voice low but harsh all of the sudden.

“Wait, you mean…” The man was clearly confused, trying to place the pieces of the conversation back together as they went, the idea that he was going to the one using an accusing tone in the exchange long forgotten.

“I don’t care what he’s intentions have been to engage in any of this.” Eva stopped him mid sentence once more, dropping her arms to her sides and walking a step closer to Dean, brown meeting hazel in an intense way, but she kept on, practically whispering but knowing she was being heard clearly. “All I know is that he believes he’s doing the right thing because of Lilith, because of this obsession with killing her he has gotten himself into. But let me tell you, ain’t nothing good about what he’s doing, and since I can’t be one to put the fear of God into him due to fucking free will, you’re going to fix it. Alright?”

Dean didn’t said anything back, didn’t seemed to be able to. His irises scanned her entire face, finally finding some real emotion coming out of her, but it was anger. And the man swallowed whatever he could possibly say to her then, because the realization finally dawned on him with it’s true force now.

They’re weren’t dealing with the same beasts no more, there was no diary that could break down the strengths and weaknesses of these beings. They were all-powerful and all-knowing, and they could see right through his and Sam’s armatures, to the point of seeing everything they ever did or ever thought. And know, one of them was specifically telling him that his brother’s choices might lead him to a terrible ending.

So Dean simply stared at her, not knowing what to say next, so she did.

“Good talk.” Eva’s serious features contoured into a joyless side grin, and she tapped him in the shoulder twice before walking down the hallway back to the kitchen, hands working on unscrewing the lid of her water bottle before taking a long sip, and Dean’s mouth fell agape when he realized how Sam’s eyes lighted up when he saw her get back.

[cafeinthemoon]

My Name is Rae (General Hux x OFC)

Title: My Name is Rae

Genre: Fanfiction

Pairing: General Hux x Millicent (OFC)

Rating: general

Word count: 2042

Chapter (s): 1/1

Warnings: none

Symbols: ✔ | ⭕ | 🔺 | ▶▶

Find the Millicent Series on ao3

Summary: Rae lives a peaceful life with her mother, Millicent, in the countryside of an Outer Rim's planet. One day, they are visited by a stranger, a man Rae has only seen in unpleasent news on HoloNet and other communication channels: Armitage Hux arrives at her house and asks for Millicent. Rae doesn't know what her mother has to do with the former General of the First Order himself, but Millicent has a different story to tell.

A warm purple sky spreads above her head as Rae tries to build a toy from the pieces of something she found on her best friend’s father’s storehouse. The remaining parts of a service droid from the Clone Wars era, according to the outgoing male Rodian. Rae has her doubts about the droid’s age, but not about the fact that the pieces belonged to a droid. Now, she is trying to turn the artificial limbs into something useful. However, the task is proving itself to be more difficult than it appeared at the beginning.

Under her tiny bare feet and the droid’s parts there’s an entire yard of fresh, dark grass. The wind that comes with the dusk finally starts to blow, refreshing her skin and her mood after hours of hard work. Rae is still wearing her shoes, as her mother told her to do, but the grass is too tempting. She tries not to make a noise as she releases her heated feet from them, for she doesn't want her mother to find out she had ignored the prohibition of playing outside without the so-called proper shoes. But what her mother calls proper shoes Rae calls a problem, and the wet grass of the evening is something you just don’t ignore when you were born and raised surrounded by green mountains.

The front door, an old handmade structure, is half open, its crackling white paint reflecting the last moments of the sunset. The wooden door is softly moved by a warm breeze; so is the grass, and the thick curls of her hair. She looks at the tiny gap behind her back from time to time to see if her mother is coming: Millicent has soft feet, which makes easier for her to do unpredictable appearances.

She had just looked at the door and is taking a breath of relief to see no sign of her mother.

Rae is on her own now. Tash, the Rodian girl from the storehouse, usually comes to play with her by this time, but today she's not here: when she’s not helping her father with his amount of technological trash, she is too busy with her mother at home. But playing alone is not a nightmare for a child like her: sometimes, she always heard her mother saying, you need to learn how to face some things alone.

So she plays alone... But not for a long time.

She looks toward the carved path ahead, in a lower slice of land, and spots someone walking up, approaching the grass yard.

Soon, the stranger is walking on the same piece of grass as Rae. She looks closer. It is a man. He walks slow, with some difficulty; the closer he gets, the clearer it becomes that he is almost limping.

Rae considers running toward the house, but something seems to grab her feet and force her to stay outside. She's still afraid of her mother's calling out, but it is a stronger sensation that keeps her from running: she knows that the reason why she was about to leave is fear, and she immediately rejects it. Why should you be afraid of someone if you don’t even know who he is? Besides, the curiosity to know who is that man and what he wants is more appealing, for strange visitors are far from a common matter in that isolated land.

Now the man is close enough to speak to her, and the girl takes time to observe him in precious details.

Rae has seen humans and aliens of the most various and extraordinary looks, but this man would catch attention anywhere.

He is tall; taller than many human males she has seen in her life. Despite appearing to spend his current days under the sunlight, his skin is pale. Just like her own.

The man is ginger. The orange shade of his hair is something vibrant, almost living, by the sunset. Besides, he has a beard, as orange as his hair. According to human standards, Rae is ginger too, but compared to him, her hair can seem dark, even brown.

His eyes are blue. Rae has blue eyes too, and so does her mother, but they’re cannot be compared to those eyes. They are pale, as would be eyes made of ice. To a reckless observer they might seem lifeless, but the girl is good with details, and finding herself under their reach is something terrifying for the exact opposite: those eyes are inflated with life.

He is wearing usual but dark clothes, which makes him even more pale. It's even hard to imagine him wearing another color. And despite his usual clothing, something in his entire person claims he's not a common man. And the girl knows why.

He's a military, or at least he was once. The way he walks, his gestures, his looks, every single detail suggests he spent too much time in spaceships and bridges. She saw this sort of things before; well, she heard about it: in his stories, Mr. Poe, the pilot, told her about the typical manners of the imperials, which were not too different from those ones of the First Order's members.

The revelation hits her like a blaster shot.

She knows this man. Now he's older, of course, and he even grown a beard, but she remembers of seeing images of him on HoloNet and other places. And she remembers hearing things about him. Not exactly pleasing things.

Rae knows this man. And that’s why she knows she has reasons to be afraid.

  ***

  Rae doesn't remember of being so afraid in any previous moment in her life.

But she knows that running away is silly, as much as it would be a shame if she screamed for help. She doesn't like the idea of having to choose any of them and looking coward before that man. You simply don’t show your fear to men like him. She expects him to not realize she's afraid, or not notice she just recognized him.

She leaves the droid’s pieces on the grass and stands up, quiet, waiting...

But the stranger does nothing to increase her fear. Instead, he speaks to her just like any other visitor would do:

- Hello.

After a second of freezing silence, the girl responds to what she thought to be the last thing she would hear from this man.

- Hello... Sir – she doesn't find it safe to leave him without a respectful treatment.

- Where is your mother?

Rae notices he doesn’t waste time asking if her mother is at home or if they can receive visitors at that time. The request itself, as well as the way he makes it, says enough about what kind of person the girl has in front of her. His voice sounds low, calm, and he even tries to soften it, but it doesn’t escape to her that the man is used to give orders, but not to see people disobeying them.

She replies respectfully.

- She's inside the house – and adds – Do you want me to bring her here, Sir?

He lets his practical side show when he dismisses her offering:

- It's not necessary. I'm going to look for her myself.

He is about to pass by her and move towards the front door of the house, and the girl almost lets him go. But something wakes inside her, and her tongue is suddenly released, letting her say what she's been thinking since she recognized her visitor.

- I know you.

The man has already turned his back to the kid, but these words, sharp and clear, makes him stop and turn back to stare at their speaker. It’s not a simple task to describe his gaze, but she could say it is nothing but meaningful.

He is not surprised, nor irritated. He just nods and says:

- Yes. I suppose you do.

He must know about his fame. Or about the people's opinions on him. But, the girl is almost sure about that, he does not care.

Suddenly the man asks her a question she's not prepared for.

- What is your name, girl?

Her name? Why does he want to know her name? Does he think her name is important? Why would it be?

But she doesn't refuse to answer.

- My name is Rae, Sir.

Something changes in the stranger to what she says. Some slight discomfort in his position appears, something in the way he twists his lips, something in his eyes, impossible to define. The girl's answer touches him in a way she would never imagine to be possible. It was not logical; it could never happen. Not with someone like him.

But somehow it encourages her to extend the conversation; she takes a step toward him and speaks with what seems to be a free manner, comparing to the restrained tone that dominated her speech since the beginning of the conversation:

- I also know your name, Sir. It is...

- Rae, who are you talking to?

Her mother's voice, coming from the door sill. The girl turns toward the door to reply but gives up as soon as she puts her eyes on the woman.

Millicent is staring at the stranger with such an odd expression. Her mouth is half opened. Her eyes barely move. Her entire body seems paralyzed. She's not exactly afraid, but the girl can't find a better word to describe what she sees. If there’s any other emotion on the woman’s face, it would be surprise in its purest form. Besides, by the way she keeps her hands at the sides of her body, Rae would say she’s apprehensive with the man’s presence: without a single word, Millicent almost screams that he’s not supposed to be here.

Seeing this reaction, however, is not as impressive to the girl as noticing her mother is a little… entranced.

Rae looks at the man and realizes he stares at her mother but seems to hold a better amount of self-control. The ice of his eyes melts a bit as he looks at the woman. Like he finally found someone he hasn't seen in years, after spending all these years looking for her. The kid is almost capable of forgiving him for his unexpected arrival, and even his demanding tone when he asked about her mother.

When Rae turns to Millicent, she understands everything.

Her mother knows this man. But not the way Rae knows him, through the holoimages and the news. She truly knows him, as if she had spent a long time in his company.

The man says one word; so different sounds his voice that Rae takes a moment to understand it.

- Millie.

Rae never heard any man talk to her mother that way. Besides, only a few people call her “Millie”. As far as she knows, her mother's friends only, like Tash's mother, auntie Rose, uncle Finn and Mr. Poe…

No. There is someone else. Someone who's not a common subject in her mother's talking, unless when he’s brought to conversation. He’s not counted among her friends but is still important to her. Maybe more important than a friend.

Her mother answers the visitor’s greetings in a similar manner, but her voice sounds more gentle, moderate.

- Armie.

Armie? Such a nickname was given to that man? Rae is confused. Or she wants to be, for the truth of the situation is too much for someone her age.

She now sees bright tears in her mother's eyes.

Rae knows this man. But her mother knows him better. The man knows her mother, and now he knows the girl too.

This is the one who is not counted among Millicent's friends, but still is too important to her. Maybe even more than her friends.

- Mom...

The woman turns to her daughter, as if only at that moment she remembered the girl is there. She tries to smile, but the kid knows she's about to cry.

- Yes, Rae?

Rae stares at the man as she speaks. He is looking carefully at her, waiting for what she’s about to say. Though he knows what’s to expect.

- Armitage Hux is my father... Right?

[emptypringlescanister]

Artifacts of the Past (Part One)

Artifacts of the Past (Part One)

·         Pairing: The Mandalorian x Reader

·         Genre: Misc.

·         Words: 1998

·         Summary: Our reader sits quietly in a cafe when the unexpected      happens.

·         Prompt: You are reading a book quietly at a café when someone passes you a note

·         Author Note: So I was searching for writing inspiration while waiting on requests, and stumbled upon this prompt. The Mandalorain wasn’t the first to come to mind, but after reflecting on it a bit, I decided to go with it. This is part one, so hopefully it will be received well and I’ll continue the series. Love you all, enjoy!

 -_-_-_-_-_-_-

           One should never doubt the qualities of things of the past. Even on small, lesser known planets, the past had a way of showing up unexpectedly. When you arrived on the backwater planet that you didn’t even know the name of, you plan was to just lay low for as long as you could. Hopefully until the mess you had gotten yourself into had blown over, however unlikely that may be.

           You stayed on your ship for the first few days of your arrival until your already small food supply demanded that you go and get something more substantial. Anonymity wasn’t something you could afford to lack so you set out, an inconspicuous cloak wrapped around you. Hood pulled up, you started towards the small town you had seen below when landing. The planet was green, greener that you were used to, but relatively sparse on wildlife. There were a few bugs that you had noticed flying about but nothing bigger. At least so far.

           The trek to town was longer than you anticipated, so it was a relief when you could spot the tops of buildings through a clearing in the trees. Walking was beginning to hurt, so you slipped inside the first bar that you saw. It wasn’t a bar though, but a small shop selling various drinks. The shop was lit by lanterns containing luminescent bugs that crawled along the insides of the jars. The walls were covered in shelves with an assortment of books and DataPads. There was a fair amount of dust on some of them, but otherwise they looked cared for.

           “Welcome traveler!” A cheery voice rang out, startling you from your curious inspection. “Can I get you something to drink?” A shorter woman had emerged from a back room and stood behind the counter, tying an apron around her waist. You turned and glanced at her, not seeing any recognition in her gaze towards you. A slight sigh of relief exited your mouth as you walked over to the counter and set a few coins on the counter. “Do you have bark tea?” You asked, voice cracking slightly from disuse. “Of course,” The woman chirped, taking your payment. “It’ll be ready in a few minutes,” And with that, she flounced back into the back room.

           Another glance around the room revealed an assortment of mismatched tables and chairs, some plain and others cushioned. The tables contained only a small container of napkins and another lantern with the curious looking bugs. Before sitting, you walked over to one of the bookshelves. Running a finger down one of the spines of the books gave you a heart aching feeling of familiarity. Gently sliding out one of the books, you thumbed it open, gazing at the slightly faded words on the page. “You’re welcome to read any of those!” The owners voice rang out from behind you, causing you to startle and almost drop the book. She smiled at you and set the steaming tea on a table close to you. “The one you’re holding is one of the older books in here. A fantasy book if I remember correctly,” She walked up beside you and gently took it from you. “This was my daughter’s.” She explained, looking down fondly at the book, along with another expression of loss that you knew all too well. “I’m sorry,” was all you could offer, shifting uncomfortably beside her. That seemed to snap her out of whatever memory had entranced her. Handing the book back to you with a small smile, she motioned to the tea she had set down. “Drink up before it gets cold.”

           After she had left the room again, you sat down on the cushioned chair – a relief after sitting in a hard flight chair for weeks on end- and took a sip of the tea. Hesitation took over your fingers, but interest preceded hesitance and you opened the book and began reading.

 -_-_-_-_-_-_-

             You weren’t sure how much time had passed when you finished the book, but your tea had long since grown cold and the daylight outside had turned into night. The bugs in the lantern glowed brighter, you noticed. Other people had occupied spaces in the building and were also engrossed in their reading. Some had books as well and others had DataPads, the glow of the artificial screen cutting harshly into the soft light from the lanterns.

           You stretched in your seat, some joints popping. A small grunt left you as you relaxed back into your seat and glanced around again. Your eyes fixed on the owner conversing quietly with a younger child at the counter. Their hunched over postures looked anxious and you sat up in your seat, causing their eyes to flick over to you. The woman whispered something to the child and ushered her towards you; you stood, the chair screeching slightly as it was pushed back. The child ran up to you, worry creasing her face. Almost running into you, she frantically grabbed your hand and pushed a crumpled note into it.

           Opening it quickly due to her whimpered urgings, a cold sweat seemed to break out on your body as you stared down at the crude drawing of a Mandalorian helmet.

 -_-_-_-_-_-_-

                                The world around you faded away as the drawing filled your vision. You had expected people to come after you, but to send a Mandalorian? One of the most feared and cunning hunters out there? You were definitely screwed. Panicky tugging of your sleeve brought you back to the world and you stared down at the girl. She tugged harder, pulling you towards the back of the building in the direction of the owner and the back room. You were pulled into the back room where you saw the owner stuffing the last of some rations into a bag. “You must go, now!” ushered the Owner, pushing the bag into your hands.

                              “Why are you helping me?” you asked. “You don’t even know me or what- “

                              “That doesn’t matter dear. You have a lost soul, but you have done no evil.”

                                You barely had time to utter a “Thank you,” when the small girl had you by the sleeve again and pulled you out the back exit into the dark of the night. The only light to guide you was the light filtering through the alleyways from the main street. As you both reached the end of the path, the girl stopped in the shadows, refusing to go any further. You staggered a bit due to her abrupt stop, but her grip was still like iron on your sleeve. You bent down onto a knee and looked into her eyes, searching for any hint of why she might be helping you. All you saw was compassion and a slight hint of fear. An object was pushed roughly into your chest and she turned and sprinted back the way you had come. Looking down to the object in your hands, confusion took you. The book that you had been reading before was settled in a soft cloth wrapping with a small note tucked into the pages of the book. Resolving to read it later, you tucked the book into your pack and sped off in the direction of your ship, not sparing a glance back at the strange town.

-_-_-_-_-_-_- 

                              Your breath came out in short gasping pants as you finally saw your ship in the near distance. Just as you came up on it, blaster fire erupted behind you, narrowly missing your shoulder and instead hitting your ship. A shriek left your mouth as you sharply changed directions and scrambled back into the tree line. Another shot narrowly missed and you ducked behind a tree for a short second to catch your breath. The forest was silent, watching the flashing blaster lights and your insane scrambling. You covered your mouth to silence your breaths and listened to hear for footsteps or anything that might give away the position of your pursuer. Nothing. Poking your head out and looking around, you noticed nothing out of the ordinary. Trees, bushes, rocks, helmet, a bug, wait… a helmet? “Kriff!” You exclaimed as you suddenly were staring down the muzzle end of a blaster.

 -_-_-_-_-_-_-

                                Clad in a pair of stun cuffs, you were being roughly manhandles towards his ship which was, ironically, parked a short distance next to yours. How you hadn’t seen it was a mystery to you. But then again, there were more pressing matters than parking. Leading you up the ramp into the cargo bay of his ship, the Mandalorian roughly deposits you into a lone seat. “Stay.” A modified voice speaks, and you can’t help a small shiver of apprehension that shoots through you. You had escaped from enough bounty hunters to know what a carbonite freezer looked like, and the one that he had deposited you next to was not your definition of a good time. Having closed the ramp, the Mandalorian climbs a ladder and ascends into what you assume was the cockpit of the ship. A few moments later, you hear and feel the ship roar to life and begin its travel back into space. Small lights clicked on as you left the planets atmosphere, allowing you to see a small distance around the ship. Eerie shadows were cast, and a feeling of unease fills you.

                              Looking down at your iron clad wrists, you start to wriggle your hands out of the cuffs. Succeeding a few moments later, you reach for your bag which had been tossed into a corner haphazardly. Bringing it closer to you, you rummage through it and bring out your book. You had already assumed you were in for a long flight seeing as you were a long way from your home system, even with the option of hyperspace travel. You were going to have to bide your time until you arrived because becoming one with a carbonite freezer due to acting up was not high on your to-do list.

                              A few pages into the book, you are startled by a hand being pressed against your leg. Looking down, you see a green... child? In long brown robes with ears which were entirely too big for him. His eyes were what drew you in most, large and chocolate brown, they held nothing but innocence and curiosity. “Uh, hello?” You said simply, not knowing what else to say. The child seemed content with your choice of words though and gurgled happily as he attempted to climb into your lap. Setting your book aside, you picked him up and deposited him on your lap. He took immediate interest in your hair and clothing, weaving his fingers into both and tugging. You laugh softly and disentangle his small fingers. He whines but relents. Spotting your book, he babbles softly and attempts to reach towards it. “So, you like books, hm? How about I read to you then?” You ask, picking up the book and flipping back to the first page. The child seems excited by this development and settles into your lap, setting his tiny hands on yours and assisting you in turning the pages.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

                                The child’s delighted giggles fill the cargo bay a bit too loudly due to your silly voices of the characters in the story. You frantically shush him, but the damage had been done. Thudding could be heard from the ladder and the Mandalorian enters the bay with you. He looks toward you and the still giggling child holding the book. You think his attention flickers between the ecstatic child on your lap, the book, and uncuffed wrists. The child finally notices him and exclaims happily, releasing the book back to you and making grabby hands at the Mandalorian. Mando swiftly picks him up and deposits him into a cradle you hadn’t noticed before and turns back toward you, silently demanding an explanation. You have none, and all you can offer is,

                              “I have small wrists?”

End Part One

[oliver-do-the-twist]

Screw it, I know this short story won't get much attention cause Tumblr hates original content but I want to post it anyway

Mentions of prostitution, minor swearing. around 3800 words

Its a western, but different. Enjoy

The Streets of Midpoint

I believe the town of Midpoint is aptly named. 

It is truly in the middle of nowhere. 

I had gotten stranded here four awful months ago. And I would rather be anywhere than this backwater hick-hole.

I hail from New York, a stark contrast to where I find myself now. The search of furthering my education had forced me to attempt the journey to San Francisco. However, some bandits had other plans for me along the way. 

They left me, horseless, penniless, and without food and water four miles from Midpoint. I was lucky to have found the town before dark. 

I would not, however, call Midpoint a town. There are but three buildings, one store/post office, a small church, and a saloon catering to each of man's deadly sins.

There is nothing but Mexicans and white trash bandits here, just yesterday there was a shootout where one young man lost his life. Once I heard the shooting, I immediately went to my room above the saloon and waited it all out.

I only heard of the young man's misfortune from the bartender. He, in my educated opinion, is the least insufferable person in town. He came from one of the bigger towns, and still held onto some bit of culture that I could hold some kind of enlightening conversation with that didn't involve killing, stolen cattle, poker, or the whore that resided in the room next to mine named Anna.

Luckily for me, the piano classes I took in New York were not for nothing. The kind bartender offered me a job to play his old Baldwin, and in return I got to sleep in the spare room upstairs and get a reduced pay for it. I do not plan to stay here forever, but at least I can bring some real culture to the murders and thieves that live here while I save enough money to take the stagecoach out of here.

The whore is perhaps the most insufferable person in this town. Not because of her occupation, or even the fact of her gender. She is just simply the opposite of me. She is on all day about superstitions, ghosts, and tall tales. I suppose living in a desert of red sand and tumbleweeds one's entire life would do that to a person. Without proper analysis of the world through a rational perspective I can't really blame her for believing in such nonsense. 

Perhaps it is a coping mechanism. Everyone here seems to be on the verge of blowing up either with anger or grief at any moment. I do see it in her at times. It's the wistful look out the window or the small apprehension in her eyes when confronted by certain customers. 

I see that look right now as she turns upstairs with one such man. I noticed he was a weekly guest of hers, always coming on Sundays at around 6:30.  The saloon was mostly empty on Sunday evenings, that must be why he is so punctual. 

Tonight, there wasn't anyone here but me. The bartender had decided to close up early, as he usually does on slow evenings. The saloon had the uncharacteristic aura of serenity as the glasses lay untouched and the card deck at the poker table unshuffled. The only companion I had for the night were the ivory keys at my fingertips as I played my choice in song. 

"Is that a nocturne?" A voice said, startling me from my playing. I had not noticed anyone walk through the squeaky double doors. 

I looked up behind me from my music to see a man in his late twenties. He wore a long dark coat and worn hat. His eyes were clear blue, but clouded with confusion.

Something struck me as odd, no, out of place about him. Even through He wore much the same clothes that every cow hand or bandit that strolled through those doors, there was something about him, maybe the way he held himself, or his walk, that told me he didn't belong in this town. 

"Why yes it is," I said as I stood to greet him.  “I believe you are the first to identify any of the music I've played on that thing that isn't 'Camp Town Races'."

"I have a fondness for Chopin," the man said as he hung his hat on the rack. "I think I've always liked classical music."

That last comment of his struck me as odd, "you think?" 

The man became slightly embarrassed, "well sir, I uh, can't seem to remember much about myself lately."

My eyes widened in curiosity, "ah, you mean amnesia?"

"It must be, I can't seem to recall much of anything."

I leaned back and eyed him, "well, have a drink," I offered as I made my way to the bar, "the barkeep has closed up for the night but that doesn't mean we can't try to jog your memory over a glass or two.”

“That's better than any plan I have,” the man said as he took a stool next to me.

I reached over the bar and rummaged through the bottles of what I considered to be pure acid until I found one of the few bottles of wine. I then poured a glass for each of us.

I told him my name, and how I came to Midpoint. 

“You were on your way to San Francisco?” he asked.

I nodded. 

“That sounds familiar.” He began to rub his head, “I believe I was headed that way as well.”

“Well, maybe we can pool our money and try to get there together, and get away from this awful town.”

The man shook his head and frowned in confusion. “No,” he said quietly, “ I can't leave. I know that. I have to stay here.”

I frowned. Having someone to travel with would have been a lot easier, and this man looks like he could handle a few bandits, unlike myself. “Do you know why you have to stay here?”

The man brought his hand to his mouth and frowned. “No.”

The saloon was quiet for a few moments as the dying sunlight caught the bends and curves in our glasses. I took out my pocket watch and checked the time, 7:07.

Sudden loud footsteps came from the stairs, and it seemed Anna’s customer was finished. Both my companion and I turned around and looked at the abrupt noise. 

The brute looked at me and frowned. He cleared his throat and turned out the door with nothing more than a ugly look and a foul lingering smell.

I scrunched my nose in disgust and turned back to my new friend. “You can see why I want to leave so soon.”

The man chuckled.

“Do you know your name? Or any other name?”

He shook his head again. “I do not. The only thing I can recall is this saloon. I know I have to be here.”

“Well, you're here now,” I said as I took a sip from my glass.

The man looked wistfully into his own glass. 

“You said you liked Chopin. Do you know why?”

“I- I think it has something to do with my childhood. The music you were playing seemed old to me, like from a memory.”

“That sounds promising, would you like me to play more?”

“I wouldn't want to disturb no one. It's nice to just talk to someone who doesn't want to kill me.”

“Well then, let me see,” I said as I leaned my elbow on the bar, “you don't talk like everyone else here, I might even venture a guess you're from somewhere near New York based on your slight accent. But you definitely dress just like the next dusty cattle driver that comes through here. Not to mention that gun you wear.”

“That's another mystery,” he said as he pulled it out and examined it, “I checked it and it's completely empty of bullets.”

“Heh, maybe that's why you have amnesia in the first place.”

He smiled sarcastically, “that could very well be it.”

There was no longer any sunlight outside, only a faint glow on the flat horizon. I finished the last sip of my drink and set the glass down. 

The man turned around at the darkened sky. “I think it's time for me to leave,” he said as he stood up abruptly. He turned around and reached out his hand.

I stood and shook it, his hand was cold from the drink. “oh, are you sure? You don't have to leave so soon...”

“No, no, I have to go. Thank you for the evening.”

“Come back anytime,” I said, still a little confused at his suddenness.

He tipped his hat and turned out the doors, leaving me alone in the dark saloon.

The following week I neither saw or heard of the man with amnesia. I asked a few of the tolerable patrons about him, but no one seemed to know anything. I hoped to see him again, if only to make sure he was doing well, or to find out about the mysteries of his past. But I feared the worst. Anything could happen to a man out here. 

Throughout the week, I had noticed Anna had not been herself. I had barely heard a word out of her mouth, not that I usually tried to initiate any conversation with her. But I noticed every chance she got she retreated into herself. She was unhappy, even more so than usual. Before, she always seemed to be holding onto some kind of hope, and for whatever reason now, that hope had fallen from her fingers.    

Honestly, I didn't want to know about her misfortune, I had enough of my own. I know that's insensitive, but I had to focus on getting out of here with the meager pay I get before I lose my mind to the oppressive heat and the endless desert.

It is now Sunday again, and I just bid ado to the bartender as the clock on the wall struck 6:30. Ever punctual, the selfish brute barged through the double doors and stomped his way upstairs. The thought crossed my mind that he could break into my room and steal my belongings, but I dismissed it. Anyone who saw my room saw I had nothing to steal. 

The only valuables I had were inside my head. Equations, literature, philosophical texts, and most important for the time, pages and pages of music.

I put my memory to good use as I performed my evening show for myself.  During the days, people only wanted the crude drinking songs; the ones with no feeling or soul. Once everyone went home on Sunday evenings, I had the song choice to myself. I kept myself sane by playing compositions from the greats.

I chose Chopin again, maybe out of a small hope the man would come back. 

My hopes were answered as the clock struck seven. Again, I heard no double doors open, but rather the voice of my mysterious friend;

“I think I know why I like Chopin.”

I turned around, and sure enough he was standing there, dark coat and dark hat.

“You're back,” I said with some surprise as I stood up and made my way to the bar. “You left so soon last time.” I began to pour the wine into two glasses and took my same spot as before. “Sit and tell me about Chopin.”

The man sat down on the bar stool across from me and took the glass of wine. “I think I remember my mother used to play his work.” 

“That's a tremendous discovery! How did you find out?”

“It was your playing. It brought me back.”

I smiled, I was glad my music actually helped someone. “Did it bring anything else back?” 

“I’m getting flashes of high buildings, and a few of my mother's words. She, if I can remember correctly, was a deeply God-fearin’ woman.”

“God-fearing eh?” I said with some disapproval. 

The man frowned, the first I saw with real displeasure. “What's wrong with loving God?” he asked.

I put my hands up in surrender, “To each his own I guess, I just don't believe in any of that stuff.”

 “You don't believe in anything beyond this world?”

“It doesn't make any rational sense to me.”

“Well, can you fully disprove its existence?”

I was silent, of course the answer was no, if I knew the answer to everything that would make me God.

“Maybe you should keep an open mind about things you don't know, all I’m sayin’.”

I took another sip of wine. “Do you remember anything else?”

At that moment the brute came thudding down the stairs. He eyed me and adjusted his coat collar before leaving out the double doors.

“What's his business here?” the man asked.

“Y-you didn't guess?”

“I feel like it's on the tip of my tongue.”

“He- was here for the company upstairs if you get my meaning.”

“A workin’ girl…” he said, his hand moved to his breast pocket, and his eyes were on the ceiling. But they held no lust or selfish desire; only a soft ache.

The last of the light of the sun sunk below the horizon. At that moment, the man turned and looked at the changing sky outside. He stood up quickly, “It's time for me to be on my way,” he said.

I frowned, “again?”

He nodded, and I stood to shake his chilly hand, “I’m afraid so, it's been a great evening. Thank you again.”

I barely had time to respond to his thanks before he left through the swinging doors.

I couldn't really tell you what happened the following week. I was too lost in my thoughts for most of it. The days blended together. I played the songs, ate my food, and slept when it got dark, but all my tasks were done with the man's words in my mind. Usually if I came across a spiritual fanatic, I would dismiss them just as soon as I would a fairy tale. The man didn't say anything I hadn't heard before, but those words coming from him for whatever reason stuck with me. I felt like my whole world view was turning over on itself. 

Anna, in the meantime, had changed from hopeless to downright angry with the world. She was almost comparable to a trapped animal at times. Her temper had gotten so bad to the point that the bartender had to threaten to kick her out, as she was driving all the patrons away. She had cooled off a bit at the prospect of having nowhere to sleep at night. But it didn't change her general mood toward people. It just made me want to stay away from her even more.

It's Sunday again and I sit on my bench, playing Chopin. The brute had come through the doors and up the stairs. I can't help every few seconds my eyes flash to the clock on the wall. 6:50, 6:55, 6:57… my fingers continue their rhythm until I hear the seven chimes.

“Have you ever been in love?”

There he is. 

I close the lid to the piano softly and stand to greet him.

“Isn't that a little personal?” I ask, “couldn't you tell me how your week was, or maybe ask about mine? You know, the normal small talk that friends go on about. Or maybe you could tell me why you only show up on Sundays at seven?”

“I’m glad you consider me a friend.”

“Hmm,” I grumbled, “Well come on then, lets sit.”

I fill the glasses and slide one his way as he takes his seat.

“I’m serious,” he said, “Have you ever been in love?”

I sigh, “Maybe, once. I don't really want to get into it. Why do you ask?”

“I think I’m in love. I think I know why I’m here.”

My eyes widened and I leaned forward, “So? What is it?”

The man opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by sudden angry shouts from above us. We both looked to the ceiling, and I realized the voice was Anna’s mixed with the rough brute’s. The voices became louder as they moved to the edge of the stairs, and became clear enough to understand.

“I’m not doing this for you anymore!” Anna yelled, “you can't make me!”

“You bitch! You ain't no woman!” the brute yelled back.

We could see up to Anna’s knees as she stood above him on the stairs, and by the looks of it she was pushing him down one by one. 

“You get out! You never come back!” she said with each push. We watched as she forced him down. Until the only thing we couldn't see of her was her head.

“You shoot my Jake dead! And you expect me to lay on my back for you? You're lucky I don't kill you! Get out! Get out!”

The brute was finally pushed off the stairs and landed on his backside. “He deserved it!” he yelled, “The thief! You're no better than him! Takin’ my money like that! I’ll be back!”

With that, the brute stood up and stomped away without a word. Anna collapsed into a sob on the final stair, her long red hair cascading over her face and back.

I looked over to the man, who's eyes were as wide as saucers. His hand absentmindedly made its way to his chest, he looked down at his fingertips, which to my astonishment, were now covered with blood. 

I exclaimed at his sudden unexplained injury, but he didn't seem to notice. His eyes went back to Anna, and he stood up and made his way silently over to her as if in a trance. 

He crouched down in front of her shaking figure. For the slightest moment he hesitated. But nevertheless he reached out in the most tender way possible and held her shaking hands.

She looked up at the hands that were holding hers. Then, in almost disbelief, she looked at the man's face. Her tearful eyes studied him for a long moment. She brought her hand up to his cheek and just felt his skin as she tried to believe what was crouched in front her. “Jake?” she whispered.

The man leaned into her touch like it was life giving. He looked into her eyes, and cradled his hands around her chin. They leaned in for a kiss, the most tender and passionate and mournful kiss I have witnessed in all my years. 

The man then reached into his breast pocket, and pulled out a small fortune of bills wrapped in twine, and a ring. He gave the money to her and she clutched it to her chest. He then reached out for her trembling hand and slid the ring on her finger.

She looked at it with tears in her eyes. But she then focused on the growing red stain on his chest, and a panic began to reach her. Her hand reached out and gingerly touched the red, but the man held her hand against his chest, and with ever patience and serenity, shook his head no.

He wrapped her in a hug, and it was the most at ease I've ever seen her be. Her head found the utmost comfort in the crook of his neck, for a moment I thought maybe they had fallen asleep in each other's embrace. 

The glasses around me began to light up in the dying daylight, and only then did the man look up behind him out the window.

“I have to go…” he breathed.

Anna’s grip tightened around him. He leaned into her and whispered something into her ear. She looked up at him, sorrowful understanding now crossed her features. 

They stood up together, and leaned in for one last kiss. She said something to him as well, but only he could hear it.

He turned and looked at the sunset again, there was barely a sliver left on the horizon, and it was retreating quickly. He looked back at her with yearning in his eyes. But she nodded, “I know,” she said softly, “go, I’ll see you again.”

He took a deep breath and brought her hands up and kissed them before turning away. He held her hands for as long as he could as he walked to the doors, but eventually they fell from each other's grip.

He paused right in front of the swinging doors, his hand resting on the top of one. He looked to the dying light again.

Anna suddenly rushed over to him and hugged him from behind, “don't worry,” she whispered, “I’ll be right behind you.”

The man took a deep breath, and Anna let him go. 

He stepped through the doors just as the last of the sun sunk below the horizon. 

Anna stood there watching the street outside for a long time, and I sat frozen on my bar stool watching her. 

When the last glow from the day turned to darkness, Anna turned around and rushed upstairs. A few moments later, she came down with a small trunk stuffed with her few belongings. She pulled a few of the bills from the money she had been given, and stuffed the rest in her bag before heading toward the doors.

“Wait!” I called, “Where are you going?”

She stopped in the same place the man had in front of the double doors. “The coach to San Francisco,” she said, “Like we were going to a long time ago.”

With that, she left. I watched her walk down the street to where I knew the stage was parked, waiting for a good paying traveler.

I was alone in the saloon once again, trying to make sense of what just happened. I reached out and felt the man's glass. It was just as warm as the rest of my surroundings. There was no rational way to explain his cold hands.

I think that's what stuck with me the most that night. I could explain away almost everything except for his frigid hands. I laid on my uncomfortable bed, but no sleep would come. My mind raced until the early morning hours.

It has been a month or so since my strange encounter with the man and Anna, and I am happy to say I am writing this as I sit in a stagecoach on my way to San Francisco. I had finally saved enough money with my meager pay as a pianist to be on my way to real civilization. 

But as I look back at the shrinking town I cannot help but feel a certain sense of spiritual tie to the pathetic little place. What I witnessed here has changed me forever.

Maybe, I think, the town of Midpoint is more aptly named than I first believed.  

[pi-cat000]

MSA time travel idea (part 34)

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, Vivi POV, 8, 9, 10, Lewis POV, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, Lance POV 18, 19, Lewis POV 2, 21 , 22, Vivi POV 2, 24, 25  Lewis POV 3,  Mystery POV , Vivi POV 3, 29, Lewis POV 4, 31, ViVi POV 4 , 33

Part 35: here

.

A dismissive hand is waved in Vivi’s direction, “I swear sometimes it’s like listening to a broken record with you people. Why do you think yelling commands at me will do anything? What’s in it for me?”

“Is he okay?” Lewis interrupts what was sure to be a longwinded spiel of thinly veiled insults aimed at Vivi and humanity in general. If there’s one thing Arthur understands about the entity controlling him, it’s that its opinion of humans is damn low.

“Who?” The demon taunts, attention moving off Vivi to Lewis, grinning, sounding several times more patronising than usual.

‘No. I’m not okay…nothing is okay.’ Arthur answers quietly, staring longingly at Lewis’s profile.

Lewis clenches his jaw and Arthur can almost hear his teeth grinding together.

“Arthur. Is Arthur okay?”

“OHHH. That ‘he,’” An exaggerated eye role follows, and Arthur feels a creeping disgust directed towards Lewis’s display of concern. “You should be more specific.”

The demon leans forward, putting pressure on the knife, smile falling, “I’d worry more about yourself. Arthur’s not the one with a knife in his side.”

Lewis winces, shying away as much as the knife allows, eyes shining with worry and slight fear. Arthur watches helplessly, wishing Lewis were anywhere else. They’d been so close to just running away and leaving this all behind.

‘Why are you here? Lewis why?’ He can’t kill Lewis. Not again.

“Is…is Arthur still there?” Lewis continues, freezing when knife twitches as the demon inches in closer. A warning growl from Mystery has the bastard hesitating, pulling back again, licking its lips in frustration. The nervous tick must be from a previous host because it’s not one of Arthur’s habits.

Addressing both Mystery and Lewis, the demon raises its free hand to make a loose ‘calm down’ motion accompanied by a disarming smile.

“Whoa. Hey. Chill. I’ve done nothing…Yet. Nothing at all. Me and Arthur? We’ve been getting along swimmingly. The best of friends.”

Disbelief is reflected across everyone’s face, even Mystery looks unimpressed.

“You expect me to believe that crap after stabbing my boyfriend!” Vivi yells in indignation, “You’re the one that attacked Uncle Lance, aren’t you.” Her expression darkens with visible rage, eyes narrow.

“You possessed that leather-wearing, biker-weirdo and threatened Arthur for…” She hesitates, “…some reason, I don’t know why, but you’re the reason he’s been nervous and jumpy recently. Then you got tired of waiting for whatever, and you attacked Uncle Lance and jumped into Arthur when he came to check up on him. After that, you tried to kill both your previous hosts.”

The accusation elicits a spark of surprise which is one part his own and one part the demon's. For someone Arthur assumed to be entirely in the dark, she is surprisingly accurate. An edge of wariness creeps in amongst the surprise which is accompanied by a more appraising once over. The demon’s focus moves entirely off Lewis.

“Viv, can I call you Viv?”

“No.” Vivi snaps, glaring.

“Viv it is!… You’re more right than you think and also waaayy off the mark,” A smirk is thrown at Mystery, “I’ll admit, I did do a bit of jumping around before landing in Arthur here, and there are some very interesting circumcises surrounding that. However, I’ve only been around these parts for a day or two at most so any odd behaviour before that can’t have been me now can it.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Psh. Why would I lie now of all times? And if I'm not lying, it begs the question…Why was Arthur acting so strangely?”

The demon is searching for something, Arthur realises as it scans Vivi, taking in how she falters ever so briefly. Whatever it wants, it’s probably nothing good. ‘Leave her alone!’ He tries interrupting, and only gets the barest of acknowledgements, leaving him to anxiously watch.

“Don’t you want to know why Arthur’s been acting so out of character? Like someone’s flipped a switch on his personality… Like he’s not quite himself…forgetful even. Because now is the only chance you’ll get to discover the truth.”

“You do want to know why, right?”

Lightning forks through the clouds, closer now. A light wind is beginning to kick up swirls of dust. That storm they’d left behind back at Kingsman Mechanics is catching up to them. Vivi’s hesitation transitions into disquiet, and she squints at Arthur. He can see her processing the information, analysing it. Arthur’s not sure what she already knows, but going off how easily she’d taken the whole ‘possession’ thing, it’s probably something substantial. He has no idea how, but she does. It is such a classic Vivi thing. She just has this habit of figuring things out, attracting information and fitting clues together. That’s what he loves about her, even if he wishes that, right now, she wouldn’t.

It takes Vivi a second as she struggles against her blatant curiosity, but eventually, her expression clears.

“No. I don’t.” Vivi declares, pointing with great vigour, “Not from you, you parasite. Arthur, he’s been a bit odd…but he’s still Arthur, and I trust Arthur more than I trust you. Until I hear it from him, I’m going to continue thinking that. So how about you get out of my friend before I exorcise the crap out of you!”

Arthur aches at her words. Why’d she have to go and say that? It makes him feel even worse for lying and not telling her the truth right away.

“A shame,” Some of the demon’s interest fades to exasperation, and it nods to Lewis instead, “What about you big guy? Do you want to know why your best friend is terrified by your mere presence? Last chance to find out.”

Lewis, who has been mostly still, trying to examine Arthur, takes a short breath. For a second Arthur can see the need in his eyes before a quick glance at Vivi seems to snap him out of it.

“Arthur.” Lewis says deliberately, “If you can hear me. It’s okay. I don’t care what secrets you’ve been keeping. You can fight this.”

‘No. I can’t.’  

“Oh, please.” Arthur doesn’t like how dark and hateful his voice turns, lowing to become more threatening. “What do you think pathetic Artie’s been doing all this time? Honestly, I think you should let the girl talk. All this Lewis hype I’ve suffered through being stuck in his head, and you’re a complete letdown. I should do us both a favour and kill you now. In fact, I think I will.”

Lewis recoils and, for a horrible second, Arthur thinks the demon is going to go through with the threat.

/Enough!/

The sharp command echoes about Arthur’s head, made magically loud, ringing comfortably in his ears. He’s never heard Mystery that angry. Not that he’d had too many conversations with Mystery in the original time-line as the dog has always made a point of keeping himself reserved and distant. Right now, the telepathic voice is cold, brittle with contained rage. Mystery’s eyes flare when he speaks, and the air hums with latent supernatural power, prickling along their skin. Of course, the demon doesn’t share in Arthur’s gut fear reaction, even if it remains apprehensive.

“Finally. I was beginning to think you’d just let this shit show go on forever. No offence,” A glance at Vivi, “You're fun to mess with, but I’ve got places to be.”

/Be quiet. Abomination. Your words are poison. /

“How about you make me, mutt. Go on. I dare you.”

The wide-eyed, confused expressions being shared by Lewis and Vivi tells Arthur that it is only him and the demon who are hearing Mystery’s voice. To Lewis and Vivi, it probably looks like Arthur is having a one-sided conversation with thin air.

Vivi voices her confusion, raising a hand. “Ah? Who are you…” She gets cut off.

“Hey. Don’t interrupt. Mum and dad are talking.” The demon orders, keeping its attention on Mystery’s angry glowing eyes, “Kids, so needy amiright.”

Mystery growls again, and the sound is lost when thunder rolls through the clouds overhead. Arthur’s teeth rattle. The fur along the dog’s back stands on end, also beginning to radiate red energy.

/Release Lewis unharmed, and I will see that you are sealed painlessly so that you may sleep away the rest of your unnatural existence./

“You’re a bit rusty at this whole bargaining thing, aren’t you? Why the hell would I give up one of my best chips for a dud deal like that?” A scoff.

/If you do not accept I will do my very best to rip you into so many pieces, that you’ll have barely the strength to possess a fly./

“Big words from the dog, but can you back them up?”

There is an elongated pause after the taunt. Vivi has fallen uncharacteristically silent. With his eyes locked onto Mystery, Arthur can’t see either of his friend’s expressions but he’s sure it’s nothing good. Way past the point of panic, all he can do is sit, frozen into a tight ball of wound up tension, like any move he makes might get Lewis killed.

“I didn’t think so,” The demon sneers when Mystery doesn’t respond, “You guardian spirits, you talk a big game but when one of your wards is threatened you go all soft. So weirdly attached. It makes you weak.” That feeling of disgust returns.

“How about I make a counter deal. Obviously, my original night’s itinerary isn’t going to fly right now so how about this: You keep the big idiot and the girl, and I pop on off, bide my time, and attempt to kill you all later. I’ll call it a reschedule.”

/Unacceptable./

“OOORRR! I kill Lewis right now, and you’ll what, exorcise me? Seal me up?  You’d have to extract me first. That would be a lot of soul digging because I’m pretty much settled now. Poor pathetic Artie wouldn’t survive it,” A dark grin, “I’d make sure of it.”

The dull red glow outlining Mystery intensifies, shimmering like water. Arthur wonders why he hasn’t transformed yet. It definitely looks like he wants to.

“Two out of three humans is pretty generous in my books.”

One part frustrated, one part scared, Arthur churns anxiously. Yes. Take the deal. Let him go. He isn’t worth all this. Honestly, just the fact that Lewis and his family might survive the night is good enough for him. The silence flowing stretches, broken by another low rumble of thunder further off in the distance. Come on Mystery. Take the deal

/What are the terms./ Mystery finally spits to Arthur’s immense relief and the demon’s satisfaction.

“I have till sunrise to get as far away from here as possible. No pursuit. I won’t take any action to harm a human for the same duration, excluding possession of course.”

“NO!”

The shout draws their attention to Vivi who lunges forward. Mystery snaps at her legs, baring his teeth.

/Stay back Vivi!/ The dog orders and Vivi stumbles, alarmed. Her alarm shifts quickly into a scowl, obviously having heard Mystery's voice that time.

“What are you doing! You can’t let this thing go!” She tries to argue, voice strained, but Mystery has already swung his head back around to stare at the demon again.

“Clocks ticking…” The demon prompts, jerking the knife in an abrupt movement. Lewis gasps, almost doubling over, his eyes closed in obvious pain. He is pale, and Arthur can now see red blood seeping through his shirt, darkening the cloth.

/I accept, on the condition that I can talk to Arthur first. /

“Ha! Deal!"

An odd jolt of something akin to electricity shoots through Arthur's chest, constricting above his heart. The demon shakes the unpleasant sensation off with a practised ease, motioning impatiently.

"Well, hurry up, I’ll give you a minute. I’ve wasted enough time tonight.”

Mystery shoots the demon another furious glare before his expression softens marginally. Arthur, still a frozen ball of anxiety, waits, wondering what the next step of this is going to be. Is he going to be put back in control? Arthur’s not even sure if he wants it now. Not in front of Lewis and Vivi looking equal parts angry, scare and horrified. He’d probably just start crying or something equally embarrassing. Uncertainly, he shifts about, testing the metaphysical walls around him.

/Arthur?/ Mystery’s voice tickles the edge of the barrier separating him from his body, causing odd waves to ripple out towards him. When Arthur looks out to meet the dog’s gaze, it’s like Mystery is seeing past the demon and staring right at him.

‘Yes?’ Arthur tries. About him, he feels the demon’s idle amusement as it watches.

‘You can hear me?’

There is a definite tone of relief in Mystery’s next sentence. / You are still there. Thank goodness. I feared the worst./

It throws Arthur for a second. Why does Mystery sound so relieved? In this time-line, Arthur’s never treated him as anything but a dog, so there’s not really a reason for Mystery to sound so worried and upset.

/I know this may be confusing, but understand that I am profoundly sorry and I will do everything in my power to come for you.../

‘No!’ Arthur interrupts sharply. If Mystery comes after him then Vivi would as well. ‘Don’t. Just protect Vivi and Lewis and keep them as far away from me as possible.’

/ Arthur…/ Mystery tries to continue, more confused now.

‘Tell Vivi and Lewis I’m sorry,’ Arthur rushes to get through all the stuff he will probably never get to say, ‘I’m sorry for lying and hiding stuff. I’m sorry for worrying them. I’m sorry for all the trouble. Tell them it’s not their fault, and I’ll be fine.’ There he said it.

/You can tell them yourself. I will come for you Arthur. Do not give up hope./

‘It’s better this way,’ He says softly.

The connection is cut, and Arthur barely pays attention to the demon as it speaks out loud, “There you go. I told you we were the best of friends.”

/I will rip you apart. /

“You’re welcome to try dog breath. Just…not tonight,” A sly wink.

/There will be no hole on this earth deep enough for you to hide in./

“You can’t…” Lewis starts to protest, and the demon rips the knife out, cutting him off. The lager man groans and falls to one knee, reaching back to put a hand on the wound for pressure.

An energetic wave of farewell is directed at Vivi, “It’s been fun, but I think I’ll be on my way…” They step out of the torchlight and into the night so the dark folds in on them. Slowly, still facing the furiously snarling Mystery, they inch away from the Pepper Diner.

Vivi rushes forward to Lewis the moment Mystery lets her, helping to support his weight, checking his side. She rips the scarf from her neck and proceeds to wrap it around Lewis’s torso. 

“I’m fine,” Arthur hears Lewis pant, “Stop Arthur.” But Mystery has repositioned, blocking the way for both of them. Good.

It is almost a clean getaway. But, before the dark can fully envelop them, a harsh third voice interrupts the retreat.

“THINK AGAIN ASSHOLE…”

The unexpected shout has everyone jerking. 

“YOU’RE NOT GOING ANYWHERE.”

The demon snaps Arthur’s head around so fast he feels his neck crack.

“Nobody move!”

Arthur stares at the bedraggled man limping out from behind the building, shot-gun raised pointed right at him. It takes a second, but Arthur recognises the scowly face of Micky. One of the supernatural hunters to threaten him way back when he had first arrived in this time-line. That seems so long along now. A lifetime away.

Irritation and annoyance overtake the demon’s smug satisfaction, turning to anger. There is recognition and Arthur realises that the shot-gun is his Uncle’s. Well, that explains one mystery. By this point in the evening, Arthur is too worn-out and frazzled to figure out why and how Micky is here of all places, but the man’s sudden appearance has drawn the demon’s full and undivided attention. For the first time since the start of this nightmare, Arthur finds himself completely free of surveillance.  

.

NOTE: The gangs all here. Time for tense standoff no.2.

Also, sorry this took so long to complete, I’m getting my ass kicked by the education system.. Anyway, the next part is gonna take another 2-3 weeks so apologies in advance for the wait. I can say the next part is planned to be a Lewis POV. 

Part 35: here

[randomguywithwords]

5 Pearls (Mr Compress Short Story)

Warning: The story gets pretty dark. 

-----

“This is Avalanche, check.”

“This is Slingshot, check.”

“This is Gamma, check.”

“This is Silo, check.”

“This is Galahad, check,” You said. You adjusted your shoulder guards, glancing at your squadron. They all wore expressions of calmness. 

You appeared shocked.

Were they concealing their fears? They were doing a better job than you were, definitely. Your eyes darted around the door they were about to barge through, your hands held a slight tremble to them, like the tremors that preceded an earthquake. 

It was the man behind that door that would set off that quake. The masked performer, linked to the abrupt disappearances of 40 people. 

Five more would be added tonight. 

You were wondering why you were even here for this, then you remembered it was your job, part of a Villain Apprehension Squad. A fresh face, you must have been, trained well but inexperienced. Your first mission: capturing a serial killer, but you didn’t know that yet. 

A bang sounded out, ringing against the steel machines that populated the abandoned factory. The door burst open by you lot. 

That is one way to make an entrance, but…

I’ve seen better ones. I’ve made better ones. It was quite discourteous to break a door of the host’s house. You are guests, you did know that right? My invitation had been quite clear. 

Where was I? Your churlish entry had distracted me. 

Your team walked through the main path, scanning for movement in the dark with flashlights. I must admit, you did check incredibly thoroughly. A flashlight from Slingshot did shine over my position, but he saw nothing out of the ordinary, just dusty metal support beams. The beam of light moved on. 

He hadn’t noticed a tiny blue pearl sitting there, stationary for the past half an hour. 

I kept watching. The five of you combed through the main section but found nothing. There was still the matter of the rest of the factory, which had winding branches and levels cut off by heavy machinery. I watched, and I wondered, “What would you do?” 

Gestures. Avalanche made the call to split up. Avalanche and Silo in one, the rest in the other. Perfect. Let the first act commence.

The performer kept waiting, like a panther stalking its prey. Actually, a comparison to a spider was more apt, patient for the two to wander directly under him. 

Flashlights shone up at him again, reminding him of spotlights and who he once was. A showman, unrivaled and unattainably marvelous. The flashlights moved on. 

The showman took a breath, transformed, and let himself fall, both hands outstretched. He laid a hand each on both of their shoulders, and then transformed himself again, just before he would have slammed onto the ground. 

Across the factory, the sound of three successive plinks were barely heard by the rest of you. 

I waited a few seconds before transforming back into myself, pocketing my first two victims, then I crept around. Your attempts at stealth, if you can call those attempts, were...peculiar, if I were to embellish. Anyway, tracking you three was laughably simple. 

Your footsteps grew louder as I rounded a corner. The second act commenced. 

The three stooges ambled through the corridor, still unaware of him, or the fact that two of their troupe was no longer performing. As Gamma, the last in line, walked past, he was oblivious to the performer’s gaze on him from the ground, where a cerulean pearl sat amidst the dust and dirt. 

The performer transformed back and approached the group, closing the distance with a single step. One tap, and Gamma was a sphere the size of a cherry. 

With him, his flashlight disappeared, cutting off the spotlight, which Slingshot was alerted to. He spun on his heel – and he too was compressed. 

The last one had turned as well. Galahad, the main character. His eyes widened in surprise at the unexpected, silent attack. Alone, he unleashed his quirk without a second thought, rage coursing through his veins. 

I barely had time to catch the two pearls before a ring of fire blazed around me, the heat unimaginable. I leaped upwards, using my cane to catch onto a ledge. Swinging, I landed on a pile of wooden crates. 

“All teams!” I heard you say as you chased me. “Enter now! Target’s escaping!” 

I saw a black line etching itself onto the crates. I will admit, I was surprised. I jumped away just as another incendiary attack burnt the position where I had just been. 

“Villain! You are under arrest! Halt!” You commanded, and I let out a drone at the overused dialogue. 

I stopped on a metallic structure and bowed towards you. After all, respect is due to an attentive audience. “Till we meet again for the finale.” And I made a last leap.

As the fire blazed behind me, I crashed through a window and into the night. 

----- 

Hojirou knew he shouldn’t have finished the letter. It didn’t diffuse his fury or self-loathing, only adding fuel to the fire. But he had to know. 

He had called the agency the minute he realised who the sender was, and now all he could do was wait for them to arrive. Perhaps pick up DNA traces to identify the villain. 

So this man’s quirk...turning people into small pearls. It made a lot of sense, and it would explain the baffling crime scenes of his previous victims. Investigators knew he had some quirk that could somehow remove footsteps of others, or otherwise make them invisible. But a compressing-type quirk that could even be used on himself made him extremely –

The crash of things tumbling onto the floor drew his attention instantly. He stood up. 

“Honey?” He asked. No answer.

His heart pounded in his chest as he rushed upstairs, three steps at a time. 

The door burst open as he entered, ready for…

Emptiness. The room was empty. His wife was gone. The window...the window was open. Ashima never left the window open. She hated the bugs that flew in. 

A ring of fire circling his hand lit up the dark room. He looked around, unsure of what to find, but a horrid feeling gripping his gut told him to look for a blue pearl. 

“Ding!” It was the doorbell. 

Hojirou gulped as he exited the room. Please, please, oh god, no…

He looked through the peephole, praying it was the police. The wail of sirens confirmed it, as did the officer standing at the door. 

He opened it and immediately burst into speech “Officer, they – he, I think he kidnapped my wife. J-just now.” He was breathless. 

“Calm down, Galahad. I promise we’ll find her, but first…” The officer handed him a package wrapped in brown paper. “This was at your doorstep.”

What?

“I – I didn’t see it when I got home,” He said. “I didn’t order anything…” The cold feeling in his stomach grew frostier. 

“We’re taking you to the station. It might not be safe here.” 

“Wait. I think…” Hojirou prayed to all the gods he knew that he was wrong. He tore off the wrapping paper, revealing a box no larger than his hand. With a trembling arm, he opened the top. 

His stomach lurched. 

The main character counted 4 hero tags, not unlike the one he wore around his neck. 

Blueish dust and shattered fragments coated the interior of the box. He knew where it came from. 

And...a wedding ring, identical to the one he was wearing on his finger. 

-----

A/N: Shit, I feel really sick in the stomach after writing this. This is basically se7en, and it didn't even occur to me until I wrote about the package. 

I...need to go read some fluff to calm down. I genuinely don’t like reading this piece of work. Don’t think I’ll edit it.