#staring at this to gain strength for work and to heal from the announcement of prigkhing leaving GMMTV

[stormyoceans]

[BLEATS PATHETICALLY]

[fallenwhumpee]

Armour

Nice prompt! I had to include it somehow <3

Whumpay Day 14: Vengeful Whumper • Masterlist •

Warnings: Battle settings

Leader stared at their armour.

Once, they wouldn't spare a second more than necessary to it. They had only wore it for the sake of their team, not needing any protection, because they were the protection. Their sword was their armour, until now.

Until it held Leader up and protected them from the fatal blows, when their most trusted allies betrayed them, when they were left alone to rot in the battlefield, injured and stripped of their armour as a trophy.

They had hunted down Whumper to take it back, and now it was their second skin.

They had cleaned their armour from any dirt and mended it themselves, not trusting the armourer. They were proud of their work, and the armour shined under the candlelight. And just like they mended their armour, they formed a new team, a new life. They took back everything they had lost and built more.

They put it on piece by piece, over their bandaged torso, bruised legs, and healing skin covered with scars. They hated not feeling the armour, for their hands were hardened by wielding their sword constantly, cracked in some places, and mostly wrapped with a cloth slowly losing its white colour.

Here they were, preparing yet another war with hope that had abandoned them long ago.

"Knight team is ready, Leader." The messenger came, not bothering with knocking the door or announcing their presence, using their name like they held no position. If the king was going to be this disrespect to his only strike force, he could very well find a new team. Leader was done with humouring people.

They looked at the mirror once again. Their bare arms were covered with slashes yet to be healed, bandages peeking out from the uncovered spots of their armour. They took their sword from the bedside they let it rest with their wrapped hands. Straightening their back, they stormed out.

Their team was waiting for them.

"The enemy knights are led by Whumper. You're sure we will be enough, Leader?" One knight asked, their latest recruit.

"You're backup. The enemy is stuck in an unfortunate place. We will win if we strike with fewer people. But I might need some archers in case something happens." The last part was said to the messenger. They didn't do anything to acknowledge the order, so Leader repeated it again, with more certainty and less politeness.

They were running out of patience.

Whumper was chasing them everywhere and making mess. Leader knew it was only to get to them, and it was maddening to know people who had nothing to do with this was being harmed.

They were ready to finish this once and for all.

They advanced towards Whumper, and as they expected, Whumper made the first move to tell everyone else to stand down.

"Your armour will be on my wall again." Whumper snarled, charging with rage. "And your life will clear your debt."

"I have no debt." Leader countered, a strike passing their sword with sheer strength, meeting with their armour.

"For the lives you've taken, I shall bring justice! " Whumper shouted, and two more enemy joined the fight.

"Your sense of justice is just as rotten as yourself. "Leader trusted their plan. They trusted their team as much as they could to a person at that point, and they were sure of their armour. They didn't think a company of archers would come, but they were confident that they wouldn't need them.

Their body ached under the armour, still healing from the endless fighting and weak after a lifetime on battlefield, but they kept their ground, pushing Whumper more and more, gaining ground and leading the enemy to the ambush.

Just as they planned, Whumper's forces were down, everyone taking out the enemy smoothly. Whumper was the only one standing after the fight died down.

Leader looked around. Their team was alive and retreating, leaving Whumper and them for a final round.

"Are you satisfied?" Whumper gritted as they clashed again.

"It was never about me." Leader said sincerely. It had never been personal, except taking their armour back.

"My troops, kingdom, her! You have taken everything! Are you satisfied now?!"

All of them had happened at the heat of the battle, especially Whumper's sister. She was the one who cancelled the ceasefire, and all Leader could do was ordering a retreat with the most damage to give time for the others to evacuate the battlefield. She was taken out with the place where she led her troops safely, without even bothering to look around and see the miserable state of both kingdoms, by a cannon they ordered to fire.

Whumper's vengeance was unjustified, and it caused something to burn in Leader.

Leader had lost their troops. Leader had lived like a disgraced exile for years. Leader had lost every person they loved or wished they had lost people instead of seeing what happened to them.

Leader was supposed to be angry, and now, they were.

If any witness was there, they would tell you it was the battle of rage, test of spirit. It had left both champions exhausted. It was them, the world wronged them, and the destruction they had caused.

that whump aesthetic when a character is impeccably dressed except for the marks of a recent battle. leather watches and silver rings against wrapped wrists and scars on palms. bandages peeking out of sharply ironed collars or under freshly starched sleeves.

[bumblesimagines]

Green Thumb

Part 8

Request: Yes or No

Sam and y/n had more development than y/n and Wanda lmao

~

You crossed your arms as you entered the room, glancing at the older man. You shared a look with Sam and Wanda, taking a seat in between Sam and Vision. You licked your lips, leaning towards Sam.

"What's this about?" You asked quietly, gaze flickering to Tony who sat in a corner.

"If I had to guess.. Probably about what happened in Lagos." Sam replied, glancing at Steve and Natasha. You frowned, looking at the Secretary of State.

"The world owes the Avengers an unpayable debt." He began, gaze sweeping over everyone in the room.

"You have.. Fought for us, protected us, risked your lives but while a great many people see you as heroes, there are some who would prefer the term 'vigilantes.'"

"And what word would you use, Mr. Secretary?" Natasha asked, studying the older man. You looked back at Tony Stark, making brief eye contact with him. It felt like an intervention. Or a teacher scolding their class after they made the sub cry.

"How about dangerous?" You frowned, looking forward when you heard his words.

"What would you call a group of US based enhanced individuals who routinely ignore borders and inflict their will wherever they choose and who, quite frankly, seem unconcerned about what they leave behind?" Mr. Secretary asked, looking over the small group in disappointed. You'd hate to admit it, but he had a point. The citizens of Sokovia were left to find new homes and the people of Lagos had to fix what had been destroyed. Mr. Secretary stepped to the side, looking at the screen. Videos began playing of all the times the Avengers caused destruction and most likely death. Wanda looked away, growing uncomfortable as the aftermath of the Lagos incident played. She already felt guilty enough about it. She had told you many times how she wished it would've gone differently. Steve noticed, frown deepening.

"That's enough." He called, watching the screen turn off.

"For the last few years, you've operated with unlimited power and no supervision. That's a decision the governments of the world can no longer tolerate." Mr. Secretary told them, hands clasped behind his back. You frowned, brows furrowing slightly.

"But we have a solution." Mr. Secretary took a book from his bodyguard, stepping forward and handing it to Wanda. Wanda picked it up, looking it over.

"The Sokovia Accords.. Approved by a hundred and seventeen countries." Wanda slid the book over to Rhodes so he could take a proper look at it. You looked at Mr. Secretary as he walked around the table.

"It states that the Avengers shall no longer be a private organization. Instead, they'll operate under the supervision of The United Nations Panel, only when and if that panel deems it necessary."

"That's such bullshit." You whispered. Mr. Secretary turned towards you, cocking a brow. Natasha let an amused smile slip while Sam covered up his snicker with a cough.

"The Avengers were created to make the world a safer place." Steve spoke up before he could address you.

"This is the middle ground." Mr. Secretary said, walking to the front again and facing everyone.

"The Accords will be ratified in a couple days." Steve turned towards Tony, earning a silent response.

"I'll leave you to discuss."

"And if we come to a decision you don't like?" Leave it to Natasha to say what was on everyones' minds. Mr. Secretary paused as he approached the door.

"Then you retire." He answered plainly. You watched him leave, picking up the cup of water infront of You You went to take a sip but it turned to ice before you could drink from it. With a small huff, you placed it down.

"That's new." Natasha called with a small smile, hoping to ease the tension in the room. You stood up, leaving the meeting room and heading to the lounge. The others followed, taking more comfortable seats on the couch. A debate quickly started between Rhodes and Sam while Steve looked through the Accords.

"Have you two thought about starting a debate club?" You asked, tapping the frozen water a few times before it finally turned back to normal water. Natasha let out a small snort, chuckling as she shook her head.

"I have an equation." Vision announced, stopping Rhodes and Sam. They turned towards him.

"In the eight years since Mr. Stark announced himself as Iron Man, the number of enhanced people has grown and during the same period, the number of world ending events has risen."

"So, it's Starks' fault?" You asked, leaning back in your seat with a tilted head. Tony scoffed from his spot on the couch, rolling his eyes.

"I'm saying, there might be a causality. Our very strength invites challenge, challenge insights conflict, and conflict... Breeds catastrophe. Oversight is not an idea that should be dismissed."

"I wish I understood half of what you said." You muttered softly, running your finger the leaf of a plant beside the seat. Natasha turned towards Tony, watching him.

"You're being uncharacteristic non-hyper verbal." Natasha pointed out softly as he looked at her with a deep sigh. Steve looked up from the Accords.

"It's cause he already made up his mind." Steve said, earning a small eye roll. Tony slowly sat up, rubbing the back of his head.

"Actually, I'm nursing a headache." He muttered as he stood up, walking towards the coffee machine. He poured himself some coffee and grabbed a bottle of pills before sighing and placing down a device. He showed an image of a young man.

"Oh, that's Charles Spencer, by the way. A great kid. Computer engineering degree, 3.6 GPA, had a floor level gig for the fall. He decided to spend his summer building sustainable housing for the people in Sokovia." Tony said, obviously agitated as he looked over everyone. You wondered why he now cared for the people who were injured during attacks.

"He wanted to make a difference although we'll never know cause we dropped a building on him while kicking ass." Everyone stayed silent as he spoke. You watched him take a pill, drinking it with the coffee.

"There's no decision making here. We need to be put in check. Whatever form that takes, I'm game. If we can't accept limitations, we're no better than the bad guys."

"Tony, when someone dies on your watch, you don't give up." Steve closed the Accords, looking at Tony with a frown.

"Who says we're giving up?"

"We are by not taking responsibilities for our actions. This document shifts the blame." Steve voiced his opinion, shrugging lightly.

"Steve, that is dangerously arrogant." Rhodes spoke up, shaking his head. Steve turned towards him.

"This is the United Nations we're talking about. It's not the world security counsel, it's not S.H.I.E.L.D, it's not HYDRA-"

"But it's run by people with agendas and agendas change." Steve pointed out as you rubbed your forehead, sighing softly. Both sides had good points but you sided with Steve. The team was obviously divided.

"What do you think, (Y/N)?" Vision asked, looking at you curiously. You licked your lips, gaze focusing on Tony.

"I'm curious as to why you care so much about this Charles guy. You've had, what was it? Eight years as Iron Man to care about the people who get hurt? Why now? Cause you realized one of those people could become the new you? Would you care this much about Charles if he had been a typical guy? No degree, no plans for the future, just a normal guy working a normal 9 to 5 job and just trying to make it through the week. I agree with Steve. What if something happens and they don't send us to help because it doesn't go with their agenda? People get hurt cause you've never set up a system to help after these things happen. You're a fucking billionaire, Tony. Make a company that's designed to help people get back on their feet after the Avengers bulldoze through cities." You said, legs crossing as you looked over everyone else. Steve gave a small nod, glad you were seeing his side. He checked his phone, abruptly standing and announcing he had to leave. You and the others watched him go in confusion.

"To answer your questions, I do care about normal people." Tony said, arms crossing. You let out a soft groan, leaning back in the couch.

"I'm sorry, what are you? Twelve? Didn't you turn twenty this year?" Tony cocked a brow, watching as you rolled your eyes and stood.

"Yeah, I did turn twenty. Surprised you knew considering you've never particularly liked me."

"Well, first impressions are everything and you did try impaling me with a branch."

"Maybe I should've."

"Alright, boys, let's calm down." Natasha called, placing a hand on your shoulder. You turned and walked towards the steps, heading down to your room at the facility. You entered and plopped down on the bed, running a hand through your hair. You tapped your foot on the ground, fingers going to the root bracelets in an attempt to relax. Wanda opened the door, closing it behind her and sitting beside you.

"What's wrong?" She asked softly, staring at you in concern. You weren't one to snap at others so quickly.

"There's so much going on. The Accords, my fucking powers, the sudden change in Nat and Tony, you possibly getting into trouble cause of the Lagos incident.. That could've been me." You breathed out. Wanda frowned, brows furrowing.

"No, it wouldn't have."

"I shot fire out of my hands and turned water to ice without meaning to. They're getting unpredictable." You looked at her, grip on the roots tightening. Wanda's gaze flickered to the window, making you turn. Part of the window was covered in a thin layer of ice.

"And that just proved my point."

"You're an incredible person, (N/N). Have faith in yourself. You'll gain control of them sooner or later. You have beautiful powers that could change and heal the world." Wanda pointed out gently, having you rest your head on her shoulder. She softly began to hum a lullaby. You didn't understand the words but her soft voice proved to be soothing.

"Thank you."

~~~~~~~~~~

"Why'd you call me again?" You asked, toying with the strings of your hoodie as you looked around the cafe. You had planned on taking a nap and watching a new show on Netflix but it seemed like Steve had other plans for you.

"Because I trust you and need your help." Steve replied, fixing his baseball cap as he tried avoiding eye contact with civilians.

"Really?" You asked softly. Steve nodded, offering a smile. He licked his lips, nodding to the tv. You turned, looking at the news. You really didn't have to considering what they were showing was right down the street.

"Your friend?" You looked back at Steve with a tilted head.

"We gotta find him before anyone else does." Steve said. You nodded, watching him. Steve had been desperately trying to find his friend, Bucky, since the attempt on Furys' life.

"I'll go in alone. We don't want to seem threatening or set him off by going in as a trio."

"(Y/N)? Being threatening? He can't even scare a baby!" Sam said in amusement, shooting you a playful grin.

"Right back at you, bird boy."

"I'm sorry, who here is named after the top bird of prey?" Sam asked, leaning forward slightly as Steve let out an amused sigh.

"Oh, I didn't know you were named after eagles." You responded, smiling in triumph when Sam huffed lightly.

"Come on, you two." Steve chuckled, leaving the cafe and heading down the sidewalk.

"I don't trust Stark." You told them, arms crossing. Sam glanced at you as Steve turned into an alleyway.

"Not surprised considering the little fight you two had."

"I think he had Vis keep an eye on me and Wanda. I snuck out while he was with Wanda in the kitchen." You told him, frowning.

"Firstly, I'm an adult-"

"That's questionable."

"-And secondly, he's not my dad." You took off the hoodie as Steve unlocked a car parked in the alleyway, giving Sam the duffle bag with his outfit. You looked at your phone when it buzzed, seeing texts from Clint.

Clint

Heard you had a fight with Stark

Clint

You're officially an Avenger now

You smiled softly, chuckling softly at the texts. You waited for the guys to finish changing before taking the earpiece from Steve. The apartment building had been nearby so you and Sam headed onto the roof while Steve entered.

"How well do you think this will go?" You asked Sam, looking for any sign of law enforcement.

"Wanna bet?"

"How much?" You looked at him, giving a small grin. Sam looked up at the sky for a moment, thinking it over.

"30 bucks. I bet this will go to shit and this dude will escape."

"I bet we'll get into serious shit but this dude will either come with us or get caught." You replied. Sam stuck out his hand, nodding. You shook it, chuckling softly. You turned your head, noticing movement.

"We've got company, Cap."

"They're approaching from the south." Sam added, attention focused on them. You heard Steve begin to talk to someone, watching the cars pull in and get ready. You turned your head, hearing the door to the roof open.

"Shit." You whispered, letting Sam pick you up and lift you into the air. You could hear the fight going on inside through the earpiece.

"Should we help?" You asked, glancing up at Sam.

"No clue." Sam replied, watching Bucky jump from the apartment onto the roof of another building. You noticed someone running at a high speed, jumping up onto the roof and knocking Bucky down.

"They have cat ears." You mumbled, pushing Sam's arms away.

"Deal with them." You motioned to the German police force on the roof, hoping down onto the roof. You raised your hand, a root shooting out and grabbing the strangers arm, refraining them from clawing at Bucky. Bucky turned his head, making eye contact with you. Your eyes widened when the man grabbed the root, using what felt like super strength to toss you off the roof. You quickly used a root to grab onto the side, breathing out a sigh of relief. Sam took care of a helicopter before flying by to grab you.

"Thanks." You breathed out, holding onto him as he followed the chase. Steve, Bucky, and the cat guy went into one of the tunnels. Sam flew in once there was an opening, trying to help Steve with the cat guy. You huffed when the cat guy grabbed Sam's ankle, pointing your hand at him and shooting a strong gust of air. The cat guy lost his grip monetarily but quickly grabbed on again. Bucky threw up an explosive so Sam quickly stopped, flinging the guy off him. Sam landed, walking past the rubble. You sighed, raising your hands as you and Sam were quickly surrounded by cops.

"Mom's gonna kill me." You whispered.

"That's what you're concerned about?" Sam asked, glancing at you in disbelief.

"We're getting arrested, (Y/N)!"

[katnissmellarkkk]

how about Katniss’s birthday before the Quell — do we hear much about that? if anything? if not, what about Peeta taking a timeout from his trainer persona to bring her something like a cake? 🥺

I’m always a little insecure when I do post prompts because I don’t know if it’s exactly like the prompt but I actually think it’s like 99 percent close? Which is like, amazing for me because I always twist prompts a little 🤏🏻 and I don’t think I did here! Anyways! I finally wrote this soooo. Well actually I wrote most of it a while back but I finished it and cleaned it up. But anyways, yay! I hope you and everyone else who blesses me by reading enjoy this! It’s short — at least for me. I don’t know the exact word count but … probably too long for a drabble but a short oneshot. Okay anyways, if I keep talking the AN’s going to be longer than the oneshot.

Since the morning after the Quell was announced, I’ve done my best to not cry again about my given fate. Going back into the arena a second time—this time with all experienced killers, who have been friends for decades, no less—was daunting, but one morning of weeping is about all I could afford.

Not that I truly had time to wallow in my own misery. Peeta had me and Haymitch on a tight regimen. Every day he pushes us further, every day he orders us to cut the breaks between circuits shorter, to keep on running, to not lose our momentum, to hit the target again and again and again. And again.

It’s even gotten to the point, as of late, that Peeta’s mother, the witch herself, has forbidden our usage of her precious flour sacks as weights, claiming she still needs the ingredients to keep the bakery running and we’ve already wasted enough.

Her son is rather put out with her — to put it lightly — but for perhaps the first time ever, I’m grateful to the sour woman. Last year, when I cited Peeta’s ability to toss a sack of flour over his shoulder, I didn’t recognize what a true feat it really was. Even after two weeks of attempting to lift the stupid, heavy objects, it still took all of my strength to even get the stupid things off the ground.

Haymitch and me so much as shared a conspicuous smirk when told we no longer have to endure that particular activity.

Of course, Peeta still insists on heavy lifting to gain muscle, trying to find a substitute for the flour sacks in way of buckets filled with gigantic rocks and overfilled water jugs. This doesn’t seem to be of much strain to him or Haymitch — and therefore, not of much help to their training — but I can visibly see the difference in my arms day to day. Having never done much lifting in the past, since it’s hardly necessary for hunting or trapping, it’s particularly fascinating to me, watching my biceps grow larger as Peeta’s insistent training plan marches on.

But Peeta still feels the need to push himself further. Perhaps even more so than me — or our now very sober mentor — he feels the urge to always put additional strain on himself, more and more with every day that passes on by.

And as of today, his dissatisfaction with the lack of heavy weights available for his training finally reached a head when he casually pitched the idea of using me as a weight.

At first, I thought he was kidding. For a solid minute, I just stared at him, waiting for the punchline.

It was only after I glanced at Haymitch’s uncharacteristically earnest face that I realized there was no joke in the matter. I debated refusing for a moment before I sighed, resigning myself to becoming a human leverage.

It took over an hour of Peeta lifting me over his head, of being swung up in his arms, being whirled over his shoulder or seesawed up and down, for me to realize this was actually a nice break for me from the rigorous training. By the day’s end, I’m perfectly content to let my fake fiancé bench press me, throw me up like the sack of flour he covets so badly and whatever else he deems necessary.

It was only later on the walk home, right after Peeta said he needed to stop by the bakery to see his father, that Haymitch predicted the true reason for my day of leisure.

“I suppose that was the boy’s birthday present to you.”

My head whips upwards towards him, shocked. No one has mentioned the date at all as of late. The acknowledgement of the sparse time left until the games is weighing heavy on us all. “How do you know it’s my birthday?”

Haymitch raises an eyebrow. “Because I do,” is all he says finally, as he turns in the direction of his own house now. Just as he reaches his door though, he murmurs, “Happy birthday, sweetheart,” before heading inside.

Ever since the announcement that I’m doomed to be reaped again, my mother and Prim have done just about everything to make things seem okay around the house. Beyond that even. They’ve dedicated themselves to always appearing cheerful, to always having dinner ready for me, to always having a remedy for healing my achy muscles or advice for putting on more weight.

But if they’re usually chipper, tonight they’re downright ecstatic when I cross the threshold. And the reason is all too obvious.

This is likely going to be the last birthday we spend together. And not just of mine, but any of ours.

It strikes me unexpectedly that I’ll never see my own sister grow up, I’ll never see her into adulthood, I’ll never be able to watch her become the talented healer, the wise beyond her years young woman, the nurturing mother she’s doubtlessly destined to be.

And I almost get choked up at the thought. My resolve to not break down into tears like the morning after the president’s announcement nearly crumbles. But I hold it together somehow. By some inexplicable strength deep inside, I hold myself together.

My mother did her best to recreate the lamb stew dish from the Capitol I loved the best and I practically lick my plate. Not just to make her feel good but because all this training has exponentially increased my appetite.

Prim tells me all about school and Lady and a funny man she healed this afternoon, who had a proclivity for telling jokes while she stitched his bleeding arm.

She’s just getting into a pretty fabric she saw in town today when a loud knock interrupts us. My mother glances at me meaningfully, as if urging me to go get the door.

I shoot her a puzzled look, as I’m the least personable member of this family and surely, no one is here to visit me.

“Go on,” she says though, nodding towards the entryway. “Go see who’s there.”

I stand from the table and hesitantly humor her, unsure the entire walk there what could be awaiting me on the other side.

The answer dawns on me as the most obvious thing in the world, as soon as I turn the knob.

And see Peeta standing on my porch. He’s still in the same white shirt he wore earlier, still damp with sweat from the heat outside and the added exertion of lifting my body weight countless times.

But that’s not all I notice. Right off the bat I see that he’s holding something delicate in his hands. I blink once before recognizing what it is.

A birthday cake.

A birthday cake that has been meticulously frosted into a deep pine green. My favorite color, as he knows.

I realize after a moment that my name is cursively splayed across the top in white icing.

“Peeta,” I open my mouth to say something, to say just about anything, but much to my dismay, nothing comes out and I’m stuck fumbling like an idiot in the doorway.

He gives me a tight smile though and it’s the first smile he’s really showed me in weeks, and as he gently pushes the cake into my hands, it strikes me just how much I’ve missed the sight. “Happy birthday, Katniss,” he whispers, his baby blues lingering on my face only for one beat before he quickly turns to make an escape.

Before I can think it through, I’m calling after him. “Peeta, wait!”

Very slowly, he swivels around to face me. “Yeah?”

I freeze, dumbfounded. I don’t actually know what I wish to say now that I have his attention. That I miss him even though I don’t know how I really feel for him? That I plan to trade my life for his in only a few weeks time and all his work and effort to prepare me for the games is useless because it’s him I intend to come back home? That I hate his trainer persona so much and I wish he’d go back to just being my friend again?

That I really miss it when he acted like friend?

Instead all that comes out is a choked invite. “Come in,” I urge, and the plea in my tone is palpable. “Please come in and share this with us.”

He thinks about the proposition for a long moment, leaving me still standing there like an idiot, holding a cake too big to fit in my hands. Finally though, he graciously relents to my request. “Okay,” he murmurs and I swear I see something akin to excitement in his eyes.

And I wonder in the back of my mind how many nights Peeta spends alone, eating these delicious desserts by himself in his too grand dining room.? I wonder if, deep down, he secretly wanted to join me and my family for cake? If he misses our attempt at friendship too?

He generously takes the cake back into his hold, having the advantage of strength over me. Lifting bread-trays and flour sacks all his life made him reasonably strong before our first games. The current training regimen him and I — and Haymitch too — are currently doing has made him remarkably strong.

“Thank you,” I whisper again as he brushes past me in the doorway, as he enters my home and heads in direction of the dining room where Prim will doubtlessly be overjoyed at the sight of the sweet treat.

“You’re welcome, Katniss,” he says again, and flashes me one more smile. This time it’s less shy and with teeth. “Happy birthday.”

Yes, I think to myself as I shut the door behind us. Happy seventeenth birthday to me.

[n0wornever]

Healing - Luke Patterson x Reader

i love your writing so so so much, it literally makes my day a lot better when i see you have post a new imagine:)♡♡ could you do maybe one with luke (if you feel comfortable of course, if you don’t its 100% okay:) ) where the reader is plus size?? thank you so much!!

Omg I love you, thank you so much sweet thing! I have a difficult time with these storylines bc as a plus sized girl myself, I feel like they can be too corny if done wrong. I hope I did your request justice.

Also, hank you to purple anon for the nudge on this idea! 💜(lyrics are from Who You Are by Jessie J)

“Y/N, you finally wore that top we picked out!” Julie said, flashing her friend a smile as she walked toward her locker.

The girl nodded. It had taken a moment in the mirror this morning for her to fully wrap her mind around the idea of wearing the garment out of the safety of her home. The little yellow crop top was dainty and frilly, everything she loved but it fell a little higher than most of the shirts she owned. She never really exposed her stomach like this, even a few inches of skin, but after she curled her hair and pulled on her favorite pair of jeans... she knew as she admired the full outfit in the mirror that she’d regret it if she didn’t take the leap.

“Yeah, I’m actually feeling pretty good about it.” 

Julie’s smile widened as Y/N closed her locker and fell to her side. As they walked down the hallway, Julie jabbed her friend’s side with her elbow to get her attention again. 

“Are you ready for today’s performance?” 

Y/N nodded, chewing on the inside of her cheek. Today was the day that they performed their songwriting final in front of the whole class. She had worked really hard on her piece over the past few weeks. Y/N paused as the reached the door, fidgeting with her hands. Julie gaze dropped to her fingers for a moment before returning to her face. She paused the movements by grabbing the girl’s hands into hers.

“You’re going to kill it okay?” Julie reminded her, swaying their hands side to side.

Y/N let a small grin slide onto her cheek as she looked at the curly-haired girl. A hint of pink caught her eye as Carrie walked through the music room door. Her shoulders immediately deflating as their eyes met and the girl’s eyes fell down her body. Raquel held a smirk on the right side of her face before strolling the rest of the way in. Julie squeezed on Y/N’s hands, pulling her focus back to her.

“Don’t worry about her, she’s going to be too obsessed with perfecting her own routine to try to do anything to you today,” Julie responded with narrow eyes. 

Her gaze softened as she smiled at something behind Y/N. The girl gave her a puzzled look with her brows pulled to the middle of her forehead. Julie let go of her hands and took a step back.

“Plus, your lover boy looks like he’s happy with your outfit choice today too.” 

Y/N tilted her head to the side, eyes following Julie as she walked into the classroom. That frustrated glance disappeared as a familiar hold wrapped around her waist. She shivered as a kiss was placed on her neck before he whispered in her ear.

“Is it my birthday?” He said softly, a giggle falling from his lips.

She let a small smile form on her face as she turned around in his arms. Her hands reached out to his cheeks, cupping them. She let her thumbs rub along the skin as she took in his chiseled features. She let her hands slid around his neck as she relaxed into the embrace. 

“What?” She finally responded, shaking her head slightly.

“Because I really don’t deserve this treat on a normal day.” 

His eyes fell to her torso, and she followed his gaze. She tapped at the nap of his neck, bringing his eyes back up to hers. She rolled her eyes as the red appeared across his cheeks. His hands gripped around her waist a bit tighter as her eyes grilled him. 

“Do not stare me like a piece of meat, Patterson.” 

“I’M NOT I SWEAR I JUST,” He said in frustration, diverting his gaze to the ceiling. “You just look really good today,” He said, biting down on his lower lip.

“Well thank you, baby,” She said as she beamed up at him, batting her eyelashes.

He let go of his lip, letting it hang from his mouth in a pout. She let her eyes fall them for a moment before she leaned in and placed a soft his on his lips. He pulled her closer, but her arms fell from their place on his neck to break apart hands at her waist. She heard him sigh but continued her way toward the door with a smile on her face. 

The bell rang as she entered the classroom, Luke hot on her trail. She looked over to the empty chair next to Julie and sped in her direction. Her boyfriend followed closely behind, taking a spot in the chair behind her so that his arms could drape around her shoulders as they waited for the teacher to begin. The sound of heels clanking on the tile floor brought the loud discussions to a few light murmurs. 

“You all know that today is the day class,” Mrs. Harrison announced, taking her place at the front of the classroom. “I’m looking forward to hearing all of your final pieces.” 

Mrs. Harrison’s eyes fell on Y/N’s for a moment, giving her a warm smile as she clasped her hands at her chest. She had already known that she had chosen the first spot on the performance sheet over a month ago, but her brain hadn’t let her really understand what that meant until this moment. The teacher nodded toward the piano before addressing her verbally. 

“Y/N, I believe you are our first performer today. Are you ready?” 

The girl nodded, her hands grabbed the sheet music underneath her. Before she had the chance to lift herself up off the chair, she saw a hand raised in the corner of her eye. Mrs. Harrison’s gaze drifted for a moment as she pointed at the awaiting student. 

“Mrs. Harrison, don’t you think that Y/N’s outfit may be...I don’t know, a bit distracting during the performance?” 

Y/N let her gaze shift behind her as she finally landed on her feet. Raquel’s ridiculously performative frown turned to a smirk as their eyes met. 

The girl looked left to right seemingly in search of something as she held the classroom’s attention. “I know we have a dress code handbook around here somewhere.” 

Y/N crossed her hands at her waist, letting her papers crinkle under her grip. She heard the chair behind her start to move, and her gaze slipped over to her boyfriend’s pinched expression. 

As he started rise out of his chair, Y/N moved her right arm to hold a hand out toward his face. Luke sank back into his seat as he watched the altercation unfold in front of him. Mrs. Harrison said something Y/N couldn’t hear, all of her senses focused on the poised pale girl with her hands resting on her lap. Y/N licked her bottom lip, letting out a short, angry laugh before addressing her. 

“Raquel, I’ll be behind a piano. I think you’ll live.” She rose an eyebrow as the whispers around her went quiet. “Can I please do my performance now? We have very little time for intermissions.” 

She heard Luke let out a giggle behind her, a few kids around him joining in. The now flustered girl shooed away her gaze with her hand, bringing her left leg up to cross over her right and bringing her attention to Nick next to her. Y/N turned back around, nodding at her teacher, who gave her a knowing smile, before walking toward the piano. 

She placed the now slightly rippled paper on the stand before sitting down on the bench. She flexed her fingers a few times before setting her hands onto their placements on the black and white keys. She let her face turn toward the mic next to the instrument, eyes making their way back to Raquel. 

“This one is actually for you Kell,” The other girl leaned back in her chair as she listened. “I hope you like it.” 

Y/N’s hands glided down the keys. As the music began to pick up, her eyes softly closed. Her hands paused for a moment as her lips pressed forward toward the mic again. 

I stare at my reflection in the mirror Why am I doing this to myself? Losing my mind on a tiny error I nearly left the real me on the shelf

Her voice felt a little shaky, her heart thumbing into her fingertips as the moved from key to key. As she took that first exhale, she let her shoulders relax a bit and sat up straighter in her place. That’s when her fingers gained a mind of their own, running freely without waiting for her mind to catch up. Her forehead scrunched as she shook her head at the next lines. 

Don't lose who you are, in the blur of the stars Seeing is deceiving, dreaming is believing It's okay not to be okay

She felt tears start to bubble at the surface of her eyes, but she took a quick sharp breath before starting to sing again. The pull against her chest gaining strength as she sang from her gritty chest voice. 

Sometimes it's hard, to follow your heart Tears don't mean you're losing, everybody's bruising Just be true to who you are

She let her voice fade for a moment, the soft light accompaniment perfectly playing off of the bitter, somber tone in her voice as she hummed softly, her eyes facing the ceiling as she played. Her face lifted toward the center of the room, opening her eyes to find the girl across from her staring back with a wide gaze. Y/N let her left lip raise for a second before her voice took off again.

Brushing my hair, do I look perfect? I forgot what to do to fit the mold, yeah The more I try the less it's working, yeah, yeah 'Cause everything inside me screams, no, no, no, no, , no, yeah

She felt lyrics overtake her, her fingers pressing harder into the keys below them as she nodded along, eyes finally following her hands on their journey left to right. She could feel the warmth rising to her cheeks, but she couldn’t stop herself to focus on their appearance. She let the room shift to black again, her eyes shut as she repeated the chorus. 

Don't lose who you are, in the blur of the stars Seeing is deceiving, dreaming is believing It's okay not to be okay Sometimes it's hard, to follow your heart But tears don't mean you're losing, everybody's bruising There's nothing wrong with who you are

As her eyelids fluttered back open once more, she made it her mission to sing the last lines to her now puzzled enemy. Her hands fell into their placements a bit harsher, an aggressive tone ringing to match the intensity in her vocals. 

Yes, no's, egos, fake shows, like whoa Just go, and leave me alone Real talk, real life, good love, goodnight With a smile, that's my home That's my home, no

Raquel’s smart smirk fell for a moment, her hands relaxing on her thighs as the two stared at each other.

Y/N was ready to bring the song home, the repetitive lines already on the tip of her fingers made their way to the left side of the piano. She lightly touched the keys a few times before letting them hover over them silently. Y/N smiled to herself as she let her lips fall toward the microphone for the final time. 

Don't lose who you are, in the blur of the stars Seeing is deceiving, dreaming is believing It's okay not to be okay Sometimes it's hard, to follow your heart Tears don't mean you're losing, everybody's bruising Just be true to who you are

She played herself out, the delicate movements dancing off of her fingertips for a few seconds before she drew back. She kept her eyes on the keyboard for a moment as she let the impact of her words finally resonate within her. She began to hear clapping rise around her. As her eyes finally made their way to the rows of seat in front of her, she saw some of her classmates standing and smiling at her as the pressed their hands together. 

She pushed the bench out a bit, rising to bow toward the crowd. She heard a whistle sound in the crowd, looking over at her boyfriend whose smile was wide as he shook his head slowly at her. She slipped a wink in his direction before returning to the music stand to collect her sheet music. 

As she sat down in her chair, her eyes made their way to the other side of the room one more time. Raquel’s eyes refused to meet hers, her gaze fixated on her nails outstretched in front of her. Y/N sighed, bringing her focus back to her lap. After a moment of silence, she felt a hand rest on her lap. She looked over to Julie smiling in her direction.

“If we ever need Racket to shut up again, I’m giving you every single song in my notebook,” Julie’s gaze moved from her to the girl across the room and back. “Because man, did those vocals make her go silent.” 

Y/N felt her cheeks burn again under her friend’s gaze. She laughed off her nerves from the attention and set her hand on top of Julie’s. As she finally let herself breathe, a set of hands placed themselves on her shoulders, squeezing them on impact. She let her eyes fall behind her, meeting her boyfriend’s bright hazel eyes. 

“I’m in awe of you baby,” He said quietly. 

She scrunched her nose at him as he pressed his lips quickly to her head before letting go of her. As she turned back around in her seat, she couldn’t get the smile off her face. She tried to focus on her classmate’s guitar solo, but her brain kept going back to the words on the page. 

As the final performance ended and the bell rang, announcing the end of the class period, Y/N rose to her feet again. She swung her backpack over her shoulder and walked toward the door with Julie. As the duo entered the hallway, Y/N was pulled from Julie’s side by her forearm. The girl gasping at the sudden contact, but relief quickly washed over her as she realized who had stolen her away. 

Luke led her down the hallway, toward an empty stairwell. As they stood in the silent space, he released his hand from hers and pulled her in by her waist. Her smile spread across her face before she even had a chance to fight it, letting her hands rest on his chest. 

“I just wanted a moment alone with you,” He said, leaning his forehead against hers. “Are you okay?”

She let her teeth run across her bottom lip a few times before nodding. He returned the nod, leaning in and pressing his lips against hers. As they parted, his smile fell to a smart smirk as he took her in.

“I guess I really don’t need to save you, huh?” 

“No, I can handle my own battles,” She said confidently, tapping on his chest. 

She let her eyes fall back down to his lips, his eyes trailing after hers. “But I do need you to kiss me though..” 

He chuckled, bringing one of his hands up to her neck and pulling her in once more. 

.

.

.

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[trashmenofmarvel]

Branded - Chapter 50

Pairing: Demon!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: A different sort of bond is renewed, and wounds begin to heal.

(This is a fan AU of Falling’s Just Another Way to Fly by araniaart​ . Please check out this incredible series for all of your demon Bucky needs.)

AO3

You told Strange your idea for the experimental bonding ritual. As stubborn as you were, you weren’t going to hide things from the sorcerer again. You’d learned your lesson.

Strange, of course, shot it down. As did Wong. You already had Bucky’s answer on where he stood. The only person who supported you was a powerful, but still very dead, wizard.

Well… perhaps there were two beings on your side.

As you laid on your bed at the Sanctum, surrounded by open books and tomes while taking a break from studying to stare bleakly at the ceiling, something hopped onto the covers and gave the most obnoxious meow you’d ever heard.

You grabbed Monster and buried your face in his fur immediately, and when you asked, “You trust me with this whole binding magic, right?” he purred as loud as he could. That, if anything, convinced you that you were on the right track. How could you be wrong with a hobgoblin and a master sorcerer on your side?

Just as quickly, your newfound confidence fled and self-doubt crept in. You didn’t think you were wrong, but you did question your own ability to pull off such a complicated spell. You’d been allowed to read the red book, the one that had been used to bind Bucky to his HYDRA masters and then to Zemo, and thanks to your downloaded knowledge of Latin straight from Bucky’s brain into yours during your time in his head, you understood most of what was written.

Unfortunately, the people who had written it were not sorcerers, and power-hungry occultists trying to summon demons for personal gain weren’t exactly good instructors.

Wong’s knowledge of human slaves and demon masters was much more helpful. Between the two different types of rituals, the demon pact and the slave bond, you had a good idea of what was required. The human bond required an intent and willingness to be linked. The demon bond required the obsidian ritual knife and some strategic cutting.

For all these reasons and more, you wouldn’t even think about attempting it until you had Bucky’s full consent. It wouldn’t work without it anyway, and even if it did, you would never do that to him.

So that left you waiting for Bucky to say “yes” to something he would never agree to. At least it gave you plenty of time to research and train. There was no rush aside from the fact that Bucky would be in danger if anyone knew of his existence. Aside from those at the Sanctum and the Avengers (Steve Rogers had filled them in), there was no one else who knew.

No one else… but Zemo.

You’d gotten the impression that aside from the Alp, who had ended up being your ally after all, Zemo worked alone. And currently, he was being kept locked up somewhere under the wizards’ watchful eye.

It was a cold comfort, and if your luck held, it was only a matter of time before someone came after Bucky again. The target on your own back wasn’t entirely gone, either. You were no longer bonded to Bucky, but you were still the closest person to him, even if he was avoiding you still.

At least this time around if someone tried to kidnap you, you’d be more than prepared to deal with them. What were other people compared to a planet full of demons?

Despite the distraction and exhaustion of training, you still had the ability to linger on the pain of Bucky’s absence. It showed in your flagging energy and attention, and Wong must have taken pity on you, because they next thing you knew he was half-shoving a cloth bag into your hands.

“Barnes has not picked up his next dose of potion. You will deliver it to him.”

“Oh. ‘Kay.” You blinked and gave Wong a funny look, not really understanding what he was thinking, but then he stopped you with a hand on your shoulder.

“But only if you can travel there by portal.”

Ah. There was the catch. Out of all the magic you’d been able to grasp, from fiery ropes to conjuring weapons out of thin air, you had yet to summon another portal. Strange called it a block. You called it home-grown PTSD from a dismembered demon corpse falling on top of you.

You sighed and pulled the sling ring out of your pocket, slipped it on, and tucked the cloth bag under one arm. You focused your mind, made all the correct hand movements, and big surprise, the training room you were standing in remained unchanged.

“Guess I’ll take a taxi,” you said with a small smile and a shrug.

Wong merely shook his head, gave you the I’m disappointed in you look, before pulling out his own ring, made a circular motion with both arms, and opened an orange portal as if it was as easy as breathing.

You almost rolled your eyes and made a smartass comment, but the image in the portal snapped your mouth shut. Even though it was around noon, Bucky’s loft was dark. The shades must have been drawn, and even when you narrowed your eyes you couldn’t see past the dim outline of the couch.

You remembered to give a mumbled “thanks” to your mentor before stepping through the ring. The familiar heat ruffled your hair and you took a sharp breath as your stomach rolled at the sudden change in physical space.

The portal fizzled out behind you, leaving you alone in the darkness. Or… not entirely. There was a dark outline sitting on the edge of the bed, and you threw out a quick spell to ascertain all the energies of the room.

Bucky’s energy felt a lot like the way he smelled. Warm, solid, and earthy. The demonic energy was there as well, but it wasn’t like any other demon you’d come across. There was nothing in his signature that felt dangerous or insidious. He was just Bucky. Your Bucky.

And he was hurting.

You moved closer, making sure to cause plenty of noise so you wouldn’t startle him.

“I brought the potion,” you announced, probably unnecessarily. You remembered how potent the stuff smelled with your demon senses. “Wong said you were late.”

Bucky said nothing nor did he move from the bed. Your eyes were slowly adjusting to the dim light, and you walked closer, unsure how to proceed. Your last conversation had ended poorly, and you had no idea how to bridge the gap between you.

But even when words failed the both of you, there was always one thing that would work.

Crawling onto the bed, you drew up behind Bucky, eyeing his wings. They were half-open and drooping on the covers, lifeless in a way that arrested your heart. You reached out and hesitated.

You can always touch me.

Did that still apply now? You didn’t know, but you trusted Bucky’s past words over your own self-doubt.

Slow enough that he could stop you if he wanted, you knelt behind him and leaned forward, wrapping your arms around his neck as you carefully drooped over his back between his wings.

A shiver ran through him at the same moment his tail wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer. It was all the encouragement you needed, and you nudged your cheek against Bucky’s hair, having to duck under his pointy horns so they wouldn’t jab you.

“You don’t have to talk,” you said, surprising yourself by speaking first. “But I wanted to tell you a couple of things. Things I should have said before.”

Just like that, the tension was back in his muscles. You wanted to loosen them, to soothe him and make him feel safe the way he did for you. And that’s why you had to come clean with the whole truth.

“First, I’m sorry for our last conversation. I know with your history, the idea of me being involved with demonic magic is… well. I can’t imagine what you’re feeling, to be honest. But I can promise you I won’t bring up the binding ritual again, if that’s what you want.”

Bucky didn’t say anything, but his tail squeezed you even tighter. All in all, a good sign.

“And… the other thing…”

You heart raced too fast, and there was no doubt he could feel it against his back. You were nauseous from the strength of your nerves, but you forced out the words, even if they were the most difficult you’d ever said.

“I love you.”

If you thought Bucky had been tense before, it was nothing compared to the stone solid way he froze now. But the words were too late to take back, and once they were said, things would be forever changed.

You were counting on it.

“I think I’ve loved you for a while now.” Your voice was quiet, words measured and weighed with importance. “I’m not sure when it happened, but I know I became aware of it after you saved me from the heigore. It wasn’t even because of that. It was what came after. When I woke up and you were there. You’d fallen asleep, waiting for me. Not leaving my side. And seeing you like that, letting yourself be vulnerable with me…”

You half-buried your face in his hair, surrounding yourself in his scent. It might be the last time you could.

“Whether or not there’s ever another magical bond, I’m bound to you regardless. Spells and rituals won’t change that. But I know that… that my introduction to this world was a lot different than yours. And if being around me, if being with me is going to… going to hurt you, then I… I’m willing to say goodbye, right now, if that’s what we decide.”

By the end, your voice was flat and monotone, almost lifeless with how much it pained you to say the words. It hurt so much more than you thought, as if your heart was being squeezed and twisted right out of your chest.

You didn’t even have a chance to ask him if that’s what he wanted; you were pulled into his lap, Bucky’s nose buried in your neck as his arms gripped you tightly, possessively. Even his wings had fully unfurled, and he wrapped them very tightly around you.

And his tail, pulled from your waist, wrapped around your own tail until they were completely entwined.

You couldn’t move or even breathe as Bucky inhaled you deeply, still nudging the side of his face into your neck. A snippet from a book on demonic behavior sprang to mind, that he was scenting you, making sure you smelled like him and warding off other demons from what belonged to him.

That’s what the intellectual side thought. The primal side, both mammalian and the small part that was demonic, made you tilt your head to the side to give him further access. Bucky had rarely let this side of him come out before, and it surprised you how easy and natural it was. It felt right.

Either way, you had your answer. At the thought of staying, of truly staying and being with Bucky in all the ways you could offer him, something clicked into place. A piece of yourself that had been missing for most of your life.

“I love you, too.” His words were heavy, raspier than usual. “So much that it scares me.”

“I know,” you said softly. “It’s overwhelming sometimes.”

“Think that describes our lives in a nutshell, sweetheart.”

You leaned in closer, rubbing your own cheek against his neck. You didn’t know if you could scent him the same way he could scent you, but the effect was still worth it. Bucky shuddered and held you tighter.

“But I would do it all over again,” you murmured. “For the first time, I feel like I’m where I’m supposed to be. And I’m excited about the future. Do you know how big that is for me?”

Bucky rubbed his hands up and down your back.

“About actually looking forward to tomorrow instead of just going through the motions?” He pulled you back far enough to cup your face in his hands, meeting your eye with a soft smile. “Yeah. Think I can relate.”

You almost pushed away his hands so you could kiss him like you’d wanted to do for weeks, but he beat you to it. Soft, warm lips pressed to yours, sweet and chaste at first, before you deepened the kiss with a raw, hungry moan. And then you were reminded which one of you was actually hungry as Bucky grabbed you by the hips and slotted you firmly in his lap.

Before you could get his jacket halfway unzipped down his chest, Bucky broke the kiss with a heavy sigh.

You chased his mouth, frustrated, but he only chuckled and held you back by the shoulders.

“As much as I would love to keep going,” he said, toothy smile peeking out from between his lips, “I also don’t want to feed on you to the point of passing out, which is most likely what would happen.”

“And? You say that like it’s a problem.”

He looked at you so fondly you struggled not to look away.

“If you’re passed out ‘til the morning, I won’t be able to hear about this master plan of yours.”

You gaped like a fish, and then the silent gaping turned into a startled squeak when he gripped you by the thighs and lifted you up, standing before you in one motion.

“I’ve got enough potion to get me through the week.” He took you by the hand and led you into the kitchen, grabbing the bag you’d brought along the way, and you went with him, too stunned to resist. “So while I prepare it, I want you to tell me what you have so far. I might even have something helpful to add from what I can remember from the rituals.”

When he released your hand, you remained where you were, frozen next to the kitchen counter.

Bucky didn’t seem to notice at first, too busy with pulling out the mortar and pestle and dumping the contents of the pouch into the bowl. The silence continued to stretch and he looked up, his tail slightly swaying behind him like a curious cat.

Your own tail was frozen behind you, pulled up and stiff.

“What’s wrong?”

“You…” You took a hard swallow. “…Want me to tell you… about my plan?”

He exhaled through his nose, put down his utensils, and came over to you to cup his hands very carefully around either side of your jaw.

“Yes.” He met your eye, without reluctance or hesitation. “I want to hear everything. If I’m going to trust you, I need to trust you completely, and stop letting my self-doubts get in the way.”

You didn’t move or speak, simply stared up at him in awe, transfixed as his gaze roamed over your face.

“Everything bad that happens to us, happens when we’re apart. Maybe it’s a goddamn sign we shouldn’t be apart,” he said, drawing you closer. “Maybe the Ancient One knew what she was doing when she told you what she did. Maybe I should stop running away each time I’m scared. And maybe, I should trust the person who pulled me out of Hell, saving not just my life… but my soul, too.”

He pulled you close so that your horns were gently touching.

“How does that sound, sweetheart?”

“I think,” you said, breathless but somehow finding your voice. “That’s a great idea.”

You swallowed, every fiber of your being tingled as Bucky’s mouth was just out of reach.

“I also think that if you don’t go make that potion right now, I’m not going to be able to keep my hands off you much longer.”

You felt more than saw his grin as he captured your lips, hard and demanding and pulling away too soon, drawing out a frustrated growl from you. The shit-eating grin was still there as he pulled away and returned to his potion, but you got your revenge when you hugged him from behind and grasped his squirming tail in one hand. His full-body shudder and muttered curse under his breath was payback enough.

But once Bucky drank his potion, a concoction that still made a part of you balk at the foul smell, you told him everything. All the research you’d done, your ideas on how the ritual could work, and what you hoped the result would be.

Bucky listened, adding his own thoughts and ideas, and when the sun finally peeked over the snowy skyline you were back in his bed, falling asleep in his arms.

The place you knew in your heart you were meant to be.

Next Chapter

[alittlewhump]

Unbidden - Act 1, chapter 4

Masterlist | Previous | Next

Content warnings: fantasy violence, death mention, fantasy religion

They had travelled for another half a day before reaching the remains of the little town. It had been thoroughly sacked, most of the buildings now just burned out husks. Blaise was staring down at the body of what had presumably been one of the inhabitants. Morgan could tell she was distressed, and she was also sending signals of anger. It was becoming apparent that anger was a standard underpinning of most of her other emotions. Her hands were balled into fists at her sides.

"He was just a kid."

Morgan didn't know how to respond. The boy had been prepubescent, the small size of his body accentuated by the large and ungainly prosthetic leg still partially attached under one knee. The forces of darkness did not discriminate, equitable in their ruthlessness. That would not be the correct thing to say right now. He ventured a soft "Yes," to which Blaise did not respond. He raised a hand, thinking to lay it on her shoulder in a gesture of sympathy he'd seen many times, but then let it fall back to his side. She would likely only take offense, not comfort, from that action. He didn't particularly like touching other people anyway, if it could be avoided.

Morgan squinted instead toward the ruined town, looking more with his mind than with his eyes. There were more like the boy, all adults but recently deceased, their bones partially scattered above the ground. It was most often undead that left their victims this way, torn asunder carelessly. They were slow enemies whose movements were easy to predict. Should be simple enough. Hopefully the scholar they sought had been fast enough to hide himself away or make an escape.

Morgan's skeletons turned in unison, raising their swords in challenge. He often relied on their perception to fill in the gaps where he wasn't paying attention. There was a yelp, and a small red demon scampered out from behind a ruined building. It didn't make it far. Before the skeletons had a chance to charge, Blaise had planted an arrow between its shoulders. Its dying cry echoed through the remnants of the town, prompting a rush of activity. It seemed a number of demons had settled in. The undead had simply been scavenging, then. That could complicate things.

Morgan urged his skeletons forward, taking a step back as he started on a clay golem. He'd managed to get the time down to about thirty seconds, but it was evident that wouldn't be fast enough for most combat situations. He would have to keep working at it.

Blaise was proving to be an extremely skilled archer. Her shots were both quick and accurate, devastating to the smaller demons. It wasn't just the imps, though; there was a group of larger demons as well, goatlike bipeds wielding wicked-looking glaives. They moved to flank the invading humans, but Morgan spotted the maneuver and commanded his minions to intercept the closest ones. Their awareness was reasonably comprehensive, but his own let him down. If the goatman behind him hadn't bleated as it raised its weapon to strike, it could easily have finished him with a single blow.

He twisted sideways, narrowly avoiding the strike. Drawing his sword was easier from the far hip after all. He plunged it blindly into the demon's middle before it had a chance to raise its weapon a second time. Accuracy wasn't paramount at the moment, just so long as he got the point far enough in and wrenched to the side with sufficient strength. He jumped back, avoiding the spray of viscera that followed his blade as the demon fell.

He should have been checking for other threats instead; if he had, he might have noticed the small one creeping up behind him, emboldened by the presence of the stronger demons. It swung its blade with a battle cry, slicing into the flesh of Morgan's thigh. He cried out in surprise and pain, lashing out with his shield to gain some distance. The demon was already backing off, its fit of courage fading. It was watching him so intently that it didn't notice the skeleton behind it. A single well-aimed thrust saw it fall with a gurgle.

Morgan pressed a hand to the cut on his leg. The blade hadn't severed anything crucial, but the pain would hamper his mobility and the wound was deep enough to warrant treatment. He ordered the skeleton closer as he felt around in the pouch on his belt, fingers seeking a familiar shape - there. He uncorked the small bottle with his teeth and downed its contents. The taste of the potion lingered on his tongue, but it was mildly sweet and herbaceous, not at all unpleasant. It would only be a few minutes before the injury was fully healed. It already felt a little better.

The few remaining demons had incapacitated the other skeleton but they were fleeing now, not that it was doing them much good in the face of Blaise's arrows. She was merciless and efficient. Morgan could see why Kashya had chosen her for the task. Something was amiss, though. He couldn't quite put his finger on it. He looked around again, and his eyes fell on one of the deceased civilians. That was it - the body showed signs of undead interference, but they had slain only demons. The two types of creatures often coexisted peacefully, so it wasn't likely that one group had driven out the other.

"That's the last of them," Blaise announced, lowering her bow. "Now let's hope we can find this guy quickly so we can leave. I don't like this place."

"It looked like there would be undead, so be - oh, look there-" Something was stirring, far enough away that Morgan couldn't make out exactly what it was, but the movement wasn't promising. He pointed with his sword, his minions already on their way to investigate. Blaise nocked another arrow and raised her bow.

An enormous zombie staggered toward them. Had it been... hiding? Or just somehow unaware of the skirmish? It was surprisingly fast for its size. It was also unexpectedly strong, Morgan realized as it shattered the skeleton's skull with a single powerful strike. Blaise was on the retreat, peppering it with arrows that didn't seem to be having much effect. The clay golem made it stumble with a blow to its side, but it struck out in retaliation with such force that the construct crumbled to pieces. Morgan weighed his options quickly. It was too fast for another golem. A new skeleton might be fast enough, but it would only be able to serve as a momentary distraction. With his injured leg he wouldn't even be able to outrun this one if he fled, never mind what that might mean for Blaise. He had to find a way to separate the head from the body, or destroy the brain. Not ideal, given his limited physical capacity, but then again neither was dying.

Blaise called out, "Some support would be nice!" Yes, it - oh, she meant from him. The zombie was focused on her as the only aggressor. He did have the weaponry better suited to dispatch it, if only he could reach its head. He struck the hilt of his sword against his buckler and shouted, hoping the noise would get its attention. It did not. If it was going to ignore him, maybe he could use that to his advantage.

Morgan darted in, intending to strike at the zombie's knees. Joints were always vulnerable, good targets for incapacitating an enemy. He was too slow - it finally turned toward him with a fierce swing of its arm. He managed to get his shield up in time, but the blow still lifted him off his feet. The uneven terrain and his injury made for a poor landing but an idea sparked as he stumbled, falling into a crouch with one hand braced on the ground.

He sent a tendril of magic shooting forth through the soil, just a small one for the sake of speed. If this didn't work, he might not have the time for a second try. The earth in front of the zombie rose up and curled back to cover its feet. It was not coordinated enough to avoid the crude trap. Morgan picked himself up as the undead fell to its knees, finally bringing its weak point within range. He quickly positioned the tip of his sword at the base of its skull and gave it a hard thrust, pushing with the force of both hands. There was a snap as the spine gave way, and the body collapsed.

That had felt a little too close for comfort. Morgan summoned another skeleton and sent it to scout for any more undead. Another surprise like that would be disastrous. If he kept a steady trickle of magic flowing between himself and the skeleton, he would be able to tell immediately if it had been damaged or destroyed.

"All right, now let's look for your man Deckard. Carefully. There had better not be any more of these big fuckers lurking around." Blaise nudged the body gingerly with her foot.

They moved through the town warily at first, growing more relaxed as it became apparent that they had fully cleared out its new inhabitants. A few of the buildings had cellars dug out beneath them, but they had all been empty. It was starting to look like there had been no survivors at all when Blaise spotted something.

"Wait, is that him?"

Morgan followed her gaze to a crudely constructed cage leaning up against a building. He had assumed the prone figure inside it, half hidden by rags, had been another body. But when he reached out, first with his mind alone and then with an extended arm to better direct the magic, there was no response - no bones he could use, unlike the rest of the unfortunate townsfolk.

"That one's not dead," he said, moving in closer. The pale figure was unconscious, yes, but still living. It looked like it might be an old man.

"How do you - ugh, I don't want to know, never mind." Blaise made it to him first, reaching through the bars of the cage to check for a pulse at the old man's throat. She must have found one, since her next move was to shake his shoulder gently.

He startled awake, eyes wide. "Back! Back, foul demons!" he cried out.

"Whoa, hey there, it's okay. Don't worry, my name is Blaise and I'm here to help you. The demons are gone. Are you all right? You hurt at all?" Her voice was reassuring, soothing. Her features had softened into an expression of genuine concern.

"You... oh, thank heavens! It's so good to see a friendly face. No, my dear, I'm a little worse for the wear but I'm not injured. I don't suppose you might have some water to share, would you? I'm absolutely parched."

Morgan had reached the cage by that time, and passed his waterskin through the bars. Blaise moved to examine the lock on the cage, giving it a very brief examination before fishing out two slender metal tools from her pack. "I'll have you out of there in no time," she reassured him as she began working at the lock.

The scouting skeleton hadn't encountered anything of note, but the earlier surprise was still troubling Morgan. He decided to raise another golem to join the perimeter guard, just to be on the safer side. To his surprise, the old man brightened as the shape began to take form.

"Ah, geomancy! It's been a rather long time since I've seen that particular school of magic. And so sombre, too - would I be right in guessing you to be followers of Rathma?" The old man pulled himself upright, leaning on the cage bars for support as the lock cracked open in Blaise's hands.

"Just me."

"Just him."

Blaise seemed surprised by their response in unison, but it didn't appear to faze the other man at all. "Well," he said, "whatever your origins, I'm grateful for the rescue. My name is Deckard Cain." That was excellent news. A stroke of luck that the sole survivor was the man they had been looking for. He kept talking as he stepped out of the cage. "When the demons descended, I was sure I was not long for this world. I can't imagine what possessed them to lock me up in there, but it certainly saved me from sharing a fate with everyone else here." He looked sadly at one of the human bodies, a woman who appeared to have died in the street, reaching toward the door of a house. "I only wish there was something I could have done to prevent this tragedy. These were good people. They didn't deserve this."

"I could give them their final rites," Morgan suggested. Nothing could undo what had happened, but at least the dead could be laid to rest properly. It might give some measure of comfort to the old man as well. All things considered, it felt like an acceptable delay.

Cain laid a hand on Morgan's shoulder. He flinched only slightly at the unexpected contact. "Thank you, friend. It is kind of you to offer, and I can think of no one better than a priest of Rathma to lay these people to rest."

Blaise coughed. "Are you sure about that? You... you know what they do with skeletons, right?"

"My dear, I assure you there are none more suited to care for the dead. I visited a temple of Rathma once for several months in my younger days, far to the southeast..."

Morgan half listened as he stowed his shield. It was a simple enough line to draw, though it seemed unlikely that Blaise would be interested in the particulars: bodies that had been consecrated, no matter the particulars of the faith that informed the process, felt different than ones that had not received that treatment. They were easy to sense and avoid, and besides that, they were considerably harder to raise. Powerful practitioners were capable of such feats, but despite their reputation, priests of their Order gave the dead every courtesy they would afford the living. It wasn't uncommon to meet resistance even in the dead that had passed on unremarked; in these cases, a necromancer could either leave the spirit be or pass it through the veil as they deemed appropriate. Morgan preferred the option of assisting with the passing on, though he hadn't ever personally had the opportunity. It felt like it would be better than just leaving them to linger.

The first stages of preparation for this particular ceremony didn't require much concentration, just some physical effort to collect and lay out the deceased. Including the boy from the outskirts of the town, there were six bodies to inter. There was a good spot near the central part of the town, likely once a market of some sort. It seemed unlikely that anyone would be rushing to rebuild the town any time soon, he reasoned.

"Excuse me, young man." Morgan stopped to look at Cain, who was wearing an apologetic smile. "I hate to be a bother, but..." He gestured toward the remains of the enormous zombie. "This gentleman is... or was, rather... Griswold, the town blacksmith. Stone deaf but a heart of gold in him. He did great things, in life. Is there any way you could include him as well?"

"Yes, of course." Morgan considered the body for a moment before calling his golem back over from where it had been patrolling the area. Even with its help, it was difficult to maneuver the corpse over to the others. But they managed eventually, making him the seventh in the line. Cain chattered on to Blaise the entire time, but clearly he was also paying some attention to Morgan.

"That's everyone," he confirmed before Morgan had even opened his mouth to ask. "It saddens me to see this lively town reduced to so little. Rest well, my friends."

That was a recognizable cue. Morgan began by consecrating the zombie, drawing a small phial of oil from his chest pocket and anointing its head and hands. The oil glowed faintly as he said a brief incantation, an ancient prayer. The first step completed, he switched to a different oil and drew a simple sigil on the forehead of each of the deceased. This anointment was to help guide the spirits up to Anu. As he recited the liturgy, he was surprised to hear Cain's voice joining his own during the repeated segments. He filed that away to consider later. Right now he needed to concentrate.

Seven was a lot of bodies to inter, but if he let the constructs fall and paced himself he could probably manage. He knelt by Griswold and touched the earth. Carefully, slowly, it parted beneath the giant of a man. Once the body was several feet deep, the dirt filled in on top of him, leaving a small mound on the surface. The effort left him slightly winded. It had been a good idea to start with the largest. The next two were easier, but the cumulative strain was growing faster than he'd anticipated. Sweat was beginning to bead on his forehead and he'd lost his breath again. Better to pause now than to have to stop in the middle of an interment, he decided.

He took a small bottle from his belt, uncorked it and tossed back the bitter bluish liquid in one motion, kneeling again before the dizziness set in. The familiar buzz of magical energy crackled through him. It itched under his skin. He would have preferred to rest instead of taking the potion, but interrupting the ceremony was not an option. The whole point was to respectfully lay them to rest; stopping for a break would have felt disrespectful. He had to press on.

Despite his measured approach, Morgan was trembling with exhaustion by the time the last body was safely entombed. Seven had turned out to be too many. The potion had helped, but its borrowed energy left as suddenly as it came, and the body shakes it left in its wake were uncomfortable. He fell into a cross-legged position, elbows braced on his knees, head hanging as his chest heaved. Meditation wasn't going to cut it after this. He was going to need real sleep. Still, it was satisfying to feel he'd done a good job of the burial ceremony. He was also grateful that Blaise had elected to keep watch during the proceedings. He'd been forced to abandon his minions to save energy. Had he been alone, safety would have been a serious concern.

Blaise cleared her throat. "Not to kill the moment or anything, but we need to start going before it gets dark. It's a long way back to the Sisterhood."

"Perhaps I can help with that," Cain said. Morgan raised his head to see him produce a small scroll from the pockets of his robe. "This is a scroll of town portal. Have you ever used one before?" Blaise shook her head. "Oh, it's very simple. You just need to picture a place in your head as you read it, and it will open a portal to that place. It only works for human settlements, and the place has to be within a certain distance. But if your description is accurate, as I'm sure it is, the Sisterhood of the Sightless Eye should meet those requirements." He held the scroll out for Blaise to take. "I must admit I've never visited, so I can't use this to get to our destination."

Blaise took the scroll and opened it, peering at its contents. Nothing happened. She turned it sideways, then upside down. No portal materialized. She looked up at Cain. "Am I missing something here? I thought this was supposed to be easy."

He frowned. "It should be. Let me look - no, no, the scroll is in order. It should work for you if you're following the instructions. Unless - well, there are a few reasons it might not be working. It could be a matter of lineage, for instance. Were your parents both human?"

Blaise stared at him as though he'd just grown another head. "What else would they be?"

"I've used those scrolls before," Morgan said, rising unsteadily to his feet. He had used the portals fairly regularly, running errands during his training. A throbbing ache was building behind his eyes, and he wanted very much to rest. He was seriously considering curling up in one of the ruined buildings at this point. But that wouldn't take the other people into consideration. Assuming the portal scroll worked, it would be the best course of action to take.

Blaise held it at arm's length. "If you can make it work, go ahead. But if not, we start walking."

Morgan took the scroll, scanning the familiar runes. It wasn't reading, exactly, but they started to glow all the same. He thought about the rogue encampment, focusing on the spot just outside the gates where he'd first waited for Blaise. A shimmering blue circle materialized in front of him, the image of the camp faintly distinguishable in its centre. It stretched until it was big enough to walk through. No problem with the scroll, then.

"Magnificent!" Cain clasped his hands together. "It will be wonderful to be amongst people again. Please, after you."

Morgan would have preferred not to be the first one out of the portal, but Blaise wasn't moving to enter and he didn't have the energy to try to sway her. He stepped into the portal. It was like walking down a short hallway, the distance to the destination collapsed into a few steps. As he stepped out of the portal, he found a sword pointed at his face. His hands came up automatically in a gesture of surrender. Of course the rogues would be suspicious if they weren't accustomed to using this type of magic. That was precisely why he hadn't wanted to lead.

"Oh, it's you." Kashya lowered her sword. "Where's Blaise? Did you find Deckard Cain?"

"They are following," he said, letting his hands fall as he stepped to the side of the portal. He hoped they were following. He was too tired to explain if they weren't.

Sure enough, Cain emerged a few seconds later, peering around. "So this is the Sisterhood of the Sightless Eye! I've heard much about you. I wonder if you would indulge an old man's curiosity. I have some questions for you..." He had honed in on Akara without hesitation, taking her by the arm. She appeared surprisingly amenable; something about him seemed to put people at ease.

Blaise came through shortly after, straightening when she spotted Kashya. "Ma'am."

"Give me a full report."

The commander turned on her heel, going back into the encampment, and Blaise followed her. Good. That meant nobody wanted to talk to Morgan, and he could get some rest. He tore the scroll in half, disrupting the magic holding the portal open. Only living humans could use these portals, but it still felt safer to close it behind him. Unlike the others, he did not enter the encampment. Now was not the time to solicit an invitation. He'd noted a large, sturdy willow tree outside the northern corner of the rogues' camp. He dragged his weary body over to it, nestled in against its trunk, and promptly lost consciousness.

[liannyeong]

Crimson (Chapter 14)

Summary: A sacrifice must be made.

Word count: 4703

Pairing: Jaebeom X OC

Warning(s): angst, mentions of blood, character death

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16

A/N: Just one more chapter to go before this fic comes to an end! Do let me know your thoughts! Show your support for my works by buying me a coffee! Follow me on Twitter for random updates.

It's been days since Yujin was brought to the Ancient Cave. It's a mystical place -- the walls are carved with symbols that Yujin can't recognize, each of them glowing a bright green. She guesses they are magic runes, perhaps to protect the sanctity of the place. The cave itself is lit up with torches of green flames that never seem to burn out.

Yena had left her here after their encounter in the forest, telling her to prepare herself for the ritual. But Yujin can barely wait. She's all ready to give her heart up. She's all ready to move on and forget this cruel life.

“The ritual can only be performed when the fae and his human love are present together,” Yena had explained, much to Yujin’s disappointment. She had hoped she wouldn’t see Jaebeom anymore. But at the same time, she does want to see the look upon his face as the ritual is conducted. Would he look regretful at least? Or would he look at her with indifference? 

What does it matter? Yujin scolds herself. It's not like she can back out anymore. And she’ll definitely not be coaxed out of it. Perhaps, it's just her heart yearning to see his face for the last time.

Yujin is broken from her thoughts when she hears an echo of voices. Her ears automatically tune in to the one voice that her heart has been wanting to hear. She feels the swell in her heart as it gets louder and closer. Why does her heart feel this way? While her mind is determined to end this, why is her heart reluctant? Why is her heart and mind at war?

"-- Why did you bring me here?" Jaebeom's voice booms in the cave. The moment he steps in, the moment he lays his eyes on Yujin, he freezes. His eyes go wide. Perhaps he didn’t anticipate her in this cave.

“Y-Yujin…?” he calls out weakly, as if he doesn’t believe that she’s real.

He shuffles forward slowly, cautiously. There’s ample time for Yujin to back away from him, but she remains rooted to the ground. Jaebeom holds out a hand, raising it to her face. His fingers are inches away from her face, almost touching her cheek--

Then Yujin blinks, snapped out of a trance. She backs away, repelling from his touch. She sees the way Jaebeom's face falls, the look of dismay scribbled all over his face.

“Shall we begin?” Yena suggests, curling an innocent smile on her lips.

Yujin promptly nods, diverting her attention to the Air fae instead. Out of the corner of her eye, she notices the slump of the male’s broad shoulders as he shifts to the other corner.

Yena circles an arm in a fluid motion before thrusting her hand forward. A gust of wind blew from her hand, so strong that it nearly extinguished the torches. Dust has been cleared away, revealing a circular rune on the ground that Yujin didn’t notice before. There are symbols lined along the circumference of the inner circle, caged by the outer ring. The inner circle itself contains geometric shapes -- squares, circles, straight lines -- with two semicircles at the core.

“Step into the center, and we can begin,” Yena says, gesturing at the two.

Yujin easily obeys, standing on one semicircle. Jaebeom, on the other hand, stays where he is. He bears a frown on his face, as if he’s having second thoughts.

“Yujin,” he says her name so gently, it could have made her go weak in her knees, “You don’t have to do this...”

Yujin wants to laugh. He’s just one step away from getting what he wants, and yet he’s hesitating? What a fool.

She tips her chin up, determined, "Let's get this done and over with."

Jaebeom moves a moment later, still reluctant. He stands on the other semicircle. She would prefer to look at anywhere else but his face, but in this position, he's directly in her line of vision.

“You may begin the ritual,” Yena announces, backing away into the wall.

“We don't have to do this, Yujin," Jaebeom mutters, "We can still work things out--”

“It’s too late for that, don’t you think?” Yujin interjects, glaring at him.

“Yujin, please..." he whispers, sadness in his voice. Even though he's just calling her name, it strikes a chord in her heart. But Yujin has to shake it all away. This is the best that she decides for herself, and for him.

Ultimately, Yujin knows he'll be happy in the long run, with his newly gained powers. He has spent most of his life -- if not all -- being an outcast and looked down upon by the entire faefolk. Yujin reckons it’s time he claims the honor and respect that he deserves. Besides, she's sure the sorrow that Jaebeom feels -- if any at all -- will be short-lived. There is another love waiting for him after this. She’s sure he’ll be healed by it.

"I'm doing this for you, after all," Yujin admits quietly. 

An expression passes over Jaebeom's face, his eyes glistening, his lips trembling slightly. If he's feeling remorseful now, it is of no use. 

Jaebeom tentatively raises his hand, reaching out for Yujin's face. She lets him. She lets the male cup her cheek and brush the skin there. She closes her eyes, revelling in the warmth of his palm for the last time.

A beat passes before Yujin opens her eyes again.

"Perform the ritual, Jaebeom," she says. "Please."

He nods slowly, still reluctant, before shifting his palm to Yujin's chest, right where her heart is. Then, he recites the same spell he once shared with Yunho:

Here I bring

A mortal heart.

Its love so pure;

It strengthens me.

Let the magic come

And give me strength.

In the next moment, Yujin feels warmth blossoming from her chest, spreading to the rest of her body. She feels the ground beneath her start to shake. The rune below starts to glow a bright turquoise. A force beam emerges from the ground, engulfing both Yujin and Jaebeom, its rays of light illuminating the cave. The warmth that she feels starts to burn through her skin, as if she's doused in oil, set aflame, and left to burn. She screams, the pain searing, her back arching. She doesn't notice the way Jaebeom's crimson eyes go wide, his face stricken with horror. And she definitely doesn't notice the huge grin on Yena's face.

Everything disappears and then, Yujin's vision goes white.

---

All she sees is white. The purity of the color is so blinding to her eyes, that Yujin can't help but wince. It takes her some time before she can adjust to the room, if it's even one. It's an endless space of white, nothing else in view.

"Hello, Shin Yujin," a voice calls out from behind, startling her.

A woman stands behind her, almost blending in with the background due to her pale skin, her white gown. Her hair is silver, her eyes bear a grayish tint. She wears a silver-plated circlet with a clear quartz at its centre.

Yujin swallows her throat, her heart pounding in her ears. Will this woman gouge her heart out?

"Don't be afraid," she says, coming closer, "I'm Sowon, a White fae."

Yujin blinks up at her, lost.

The woman starts to circle around her, as she continues, "All the faes that you have encountered in the physical realm are elemental faes. White faes, however, exist in the spirit realm. We are the guardians of the spirits, guiding them as they travel between realms."

Sowon stops right in front of Yujin. She raises her arms, gesturing at the white space. "This is the Transitional State,” she states, then looks at Yujin directly in the eye. "You are a spirit."

"What?" Yujin lets out weakly, confused.

The White fae snaps her fingers and the same magic rune in the Ancient Cave is projected in the air.

"You chose to sacrifice for a halfling called Im Jaebeom," Sowon says.

Yujin nods. "But-- But why am I a spirit? Doesn’t the ritual only require a mortal love?”

Sowon stares at her for a moment, as if expecting her to continue. When Yujin doesn’t, the White fae lets out a sigh, shaking her head slightly.

"You don’t know," she realizes. She proceeds to explain, "What the ritual requires is a mortal’s heart -- a physical heart -- that possesses a pure love for the fae. Thus, you’re sacrificing your physical heart and that will render you dead."

She holds out a hand, uncurling her fingers, revealing a small cube suspended just above her palm. It looks empty, worthless. "Your entire heart will be transferred here, converting itself into an endless flow of energy -- and power."

Realization dawns on Yujin. Not only will she lose all her feelings for Jaebeom, she will have to give up her life for him. In exchange for the power that he craves for. Yujin clenches her fists. Is the restoration of Jaebeom's power really worth her life? Or should she back out now, and leave him to suffer as a powerless fae in the woods?

"How tragic," Sowon utters, shaking her head in disapproval. "It’s already a forbidden spell, yet they were so wicked to lie to you about its requirement.”

Did Jaebeom know the true requirement? Or did he keep it a secret from her too? Yujin feels a tear trickle down her cheek.

"Tell me, dear Yujin, do you wish to proceed with this sacrifice?” Sowon asks, sounding genuinely concerned as she brushes the teardrop away. 

Yujin exhales deeply. What does it matter anyway? Whether the ritual requires her heart or her life, it doesn’t change the fact that at the end of the day, it’s Jaebeom who will reap the benefits. He’ll possess greater power, greater influence, and he’ll be able to take Yena as his true bride. It would no longer matter if she's dead or alive. He won't need her afterwards. He’ll proceed to live on as if nothing happened. She will just be another heart he has crushed, just another mortal that passed on. 

Yujin reaches out to take the cube, but Sowon retracts her hand just a little. She has her head cocked to the side, finding it odd.

“Why?” she asks, blinking at Yujin with curious eyes.

Why? Yujin questions herself. The answer is simple: love. Despite having her heart trampled on, be used and abused, the love she harbors for the Fire fae overpowers. Yes, he may have utter sweet words and promises as a tool to manipulate her. But she was the one who let herself believe in them. She was the one who let her heart be swayed by him. She has fallen so deeply in love with him that she's willing to do anything. Even if it means giving up her life for him to be with someone else. Even if it means removing herself from the picture.

“Because I love him,” Yujin answers simply, much to Sowon’s surprise.

“Truly, your love for the fae is of the purest form,” Sowon acknowledges, with a nod.

The woman offers the cube on her palm. Yujin takes a deep breath before grasping it.

"We shall meet again, Shin Yujin," Sowon bids goodbye, disappearing into the whiteness of the place.

A moment later, Yujin feels something being ignited from deep within. Her body temperature starts to rise. Energy surges in her, coursing through her veins. Then, she feels a kind of current in her. The energy from the crown of her head to the tip of her feet flows to her chest, her heart pounding hard. There's a crack, and then, her chest is ripped open. Yujin screams in pain, her pitch high and deafening. Tears stream down her face, and despite the blurry vision, she catches a glimpse of wisps of mist -- stained a deep red -- coming out from her heart. The vapors diffuse into the cube in her hand.

When the last speck is absorbed, Yujin drops to the floor, barely able to open her eyes.

---

When Jaebeom blinks, he’s greeted by the sight of Yujin being suspended in the air. Previously, he was in the cave, standing on the magic rune that gleams after he uttered the spell. He last remembers hearing Yujin’s shrill screams. Now, in this vast space of white, there’s only the two of them. Crimson clouds shroud Yujin’s body, drifting towards an object in her hand. She doesn't notice his presence even though her eyes are wide open. Her face is contorted in pain, her back arching that he swears it could snap into two.

Just what is going on?

"Y-Yujin?" Jaebeom calls out, but receives no response at all.

He takes a step forward, coming closer to the female. He sees how Yujin's eyes are filled black in its entirety, how her skin turns pale. Nausea hits him, because beneath all that mist, her chest is split open. It’s a grotesque sight: her heart peeks through, still alive and beating albeit weakly. Strangely, there is no blood oozing out, only vapors. Observing the trail, Jaebeom realizes, to his horror, that the red mist is actually drawn out from her heart! The red fumes are actually vaporized blood!

Jaebeom rushes forward frantically, repeatedly yelling her name. He hopes her eyes would open, that she would regain consciousness. But nothing happens. So he tries to grab her wrist through the smoke. There seems to be an invisible force that cocoons her, because Jaebeom feels a spark at his fingertips before he is sent flying.

He lands on his back, hard. He groans. Still, it doesn't deter him from attempting to stop the process. Jaebeom sprints toward her, once more trying to pull her out. Again, the same force flings his body backward.

In his desperation, Jaebeom tries to come up with a different strategy. One particular method stands out in his mind, and he doesn’t waste any time. He shuts his eyes, and takes a deep breath to steady himself. He searches for Yujin’s unconscious mind. The Lover's bond that they share makes it easier for him to locate her, but he can’t seem to tap into her mind at all. It’s like he’s barred from entering it. It’s like there is a protective shield that holds him off. No matter how much he tries, he cannot break through.

Jaebeom hears a thud. He snaps his eyes open, hoping that somehow it worked. That somehow, the process is halted. But no, it’s already too late. He sees the last speck of vapor in the air, travelling to the object that was in Yujin’s hand. Her body is almost lifeless, eerily still.

The fae rushes to her side, pulling her body into his arms. Her clothing has a spatter of red at the front, the material ripped down to her ribcage. She’s breathing faintly, so Jaebeom presses his palm into the open wound, hoping it'll stop the bleeding.

"Yujin, please--" he cries out. "Respond to my voice, please--"

The female shifts slightly, her eyes slowly fluttering open just a little bit. She must have realized who he is, for she shoots him a weak smile.

"It’s all yours now," she mutters, voice raspy and weak. Her hand twitches by her side, slowly uncurling to reveal a cube. It whirs loudly, a striking red light pulsing in the grooves.

Soon after, her body starts to disintegrate into dust. Jaebeom envelops her into a tight hug, desperately trying to hold onto the remains of her body. He hopes it’ll make her stay longer. But no, there is no effect at all. Her body continues to turn into ashes.

"No! No, no, no!" Jaebeom screams out, hysterical. Tears are streaming down his face. With the last bit of time he has, he holds her just a little closer, pressing his lips to her forehead.

"Goodbye, Jaebeom," is the last thing he hears before the last bit of her existence slips through his fingertips, carried away by an invisible force, then fading away.

---

Jaebeom returns to the Ancient Cave alone, kneeling on the rune. Yujin is nowhere to be seen. Just a few moments ago, he was holding her in his arms, hugging her tight.

He belatedly notices the cube on the ground, left behind by Yujin herself. With shaking hands, he picks it up. Jaebeom feels its weight on his palm despite it being small, and he feels it pulse against his skin. In the next moment, the object melts becoming liquid, before seeping into the ridges of his skin.

Jaebeom feels stronger; the power making its way to him. The veins in his hand start to glow red. He watches as the energy flows through his body, illuminating his veins as it travels. His core feels a tad warmer, and he's sure any flames he produces will be fiercer than ever before.

“Jaebeom, you did it! You got the power!” Yena rejoices, coming forward excitedly, “This calls for a celebration! You’re invincible now!””

Despite that, Jaebeom can’t comprehend what happened. Yes, he has gained the powers he desired so much, but... Yujin is now gone. He feels a void in his chest, and he just knows it cannot be patched up.

“But Yujin...” he trails off, teary-eyed. “I lost her…”

“No, Jaebeom, she gave her life for you. She was willing to do it. Don't blame yourself for the decisions she made--"

But Jaebeom can't believe it. How did it end up like this? It was a rapid turn of events, that his mind still can't process it yet. Days ago, they were so in love, so happy together. Ever since they returned from the autumn celebration hosted by the Air court, Yujin seemed a little off -- more distant, in fact. She reasoned that she wasn't feeling good, so Jaebeom left her to rest. But the next thing he knew, Han, the Earth fae servant tasked to monitor the Garden, informed him that Yujin had ventured into the area. How surprised he was to find Yujin at the fountain, fully regaining the memories that he took away.

Jaebeom couldn't help the anger he felt towards himself then. He couldn't help the regret he felt from keeping the memories. He should have destroyed the fountain when he had the chance to. He shouldn't have ordered an Earth fae to construct the Garden in order to protect the fountain. He was so reluctant to destroy Yujin’s memories because revisiting them was the only way he could experience being close to her again. It helped him live. It made him happy. 

But how was he to know that Yunho actually implanted his own memories into the fountain after his death? He was so preoccupied with having the real Yujin by his side that he overlooked the fountain. Despite Yujin asking about the Garden multiple times, Jaebeom thought he could get away with it. He thought Yujin's curiosity would die down as time passed by. Oh, how foolish he was! He should have just wiped away Yujin’s memories mercilessly without keeping it in any form at all. Even so, how can he? He cherished Yujin so much, he couldn’t bear to eradicate their childhood memories.

Still, Jaebeom doesn’t have anyone but himself to blame. Seeing Yujin so determined in performing the ritual, it is enough evidence of the pain he has inflicted upon her. Just how much pain has he put her through, for her to be so willing to throw the memories they have, the love they share? Perhaps he will never know now.

Despite his reluctance, he ended up proceeding with the ritual. Yena was the one who informed him of it years ago, when Yujin was still oblivious about the faefolk. They theorized that the sacrifice is merely the emotion of love, leaving the person unscathed.

Now, it proved to be false. Jaebeom didn't expect Yujin to be put through excruciating pain. He had thought the spell required just a mortal love. He didn't understand why she had to go through such a painful process. Why did she turn into dust if all they needed was her feelings?

"-- You finally have the power you have long sought for! Why does it matter if she's alive or not? If anything, you should be grateful that she'll no longer be a distraction to our mission!"

Something about Yena's comment snaps Jaebeom from his thoughts. Something about it brings about a flare of anger in him. Impulsively, he blasts a ball of fire towards the Air fae. His flames used to be orange, but now, it possesses a beautiful blue. Out of reflex, Yena crosses her arms, projecting a protective barrier that disperses the flames.

"What are you doing?!” Yena yells, startled by Jaebeom's sudden attack.

The Fire fae ignites both his hands into flames, bringing them together before pulling them apart. A whip of fire is conjured, without any tangible rope holding the flames. Jaebeom lashes the makeshift weapon toward Yena, successfully grabbing her by the ankle. She cries out, her ankle scorched by the fire. Jaebeom yanks her towards him, and she falls to the ground. He seizes her by the neck, holding her up in the air.

“You knew?" Jaebeom bellows, fury written all over his face. "You knew the ritual would kill her?”

“Of course I knew--” the Air fae chokes out, clutching at his wrist. Her nails scratch against his skin, but he pays it no mind.

“And you hid it from me?”

“If I didn't, you wouldn’t have done it--!”

Jaebeom hurls the female to the side, her body hitting the rough rocks of the cave. He hears her whimper in pain, but he doesn't care. He stomps over, and with his foot, he kicks her body to lay flat on her back. He presses his heel on her chest, ruthless, even as her face is flushed with a deep red, her lungs constricted.

"Why?" he spits.

"J-Jaebeom, p-please--" she chokes out, trying to relieve the pressure from his foot. “I can’t breathe--”

Jaebeom removes his foot, much to the relief of the Air fae. She gasps for air.

“If I had told you, that mortal will only hamper our progress. She's nothing but a distraction to you. I did what is right, to keep you focused on our plan!”

Jaebeom stares her down. "Perhaps I would have married you if you hadn't lied to me."

Confusion passes over Yena's face. “J-Jaebeom…?” she croaks out, unsure.

"Perhaps I would have married you if I loved you more. I regard you as a sister, nothing more," he continues. “This is too late but... I have led you on for so long, only to realize that I can never love you the same way I love Yujin.”

"You can't do this to me! You can't betray me like this!" she shrieks, grabbing Jaebeom’s legs. Tears start to stream down her face. Yena is out of her wits, totally deranged. "You promised me you would-- You can't--! I have been waiting so long for you! I stayed by your side for so long! You can't do this to me-- Jaebeom, please. You can't leave me--"

Jaebeom tugs her away so that he can crouch down comfortably.

"I'm sorry, Yena, but I can't do it," he mutters. "I hope you'll stay by my side as a loyal friend."

Yena's face darkens. She rises, albeit a little wobbly on her legs. Her fists are clenched tight by her sides.

"No, no, no! No, you can’t do this to me-- What do you take me for? A fool?" she growls. "Whether you love me or not, it no longer matters. Yujin is now dead, and you have to marry me, else you can never have the army you need to conquer all the fae courts!"

Jaebeom stands on his feet. He brings up a hand, and blue flames immediately envelop his skin, up to his wrist. He turns his palm over, mesmerized by the intensity of it.

“I’m sure I can still conquer the fae courts without marrying you,” he says simply.

"If I can't have you, then no one can!" Yena spits before rapidly circling her hands. A sphere of air is created around Jaebeom's head, taking away the oxygen he needs. It’s suffocating, the air from his lungs is also drawn out.

Jaebeom struggles to think straight, but he ignites his entire body with fire. The heat prickles his skin but it's only a slight discomfort. Then, it sets off an explosion, scattering the flames in all directions. The air sphere dissipates and Jaebeom can breathe again. He catches his breath for a moment before he points his fist at Yena, set ablaze, ready to strike.

But there is a stench of burning flesh, the fire has already engulfed the Air fae. Her skin starts to peel off like strips. Puffs of heavy black smoke fill the air, her deafening screams ringing in the cave. Then, Yena drops to the ground, moving only ever slightly, before she goes completely still.

Just like that, the Princess of the Air court is dead.

---

"Shin Yujin has passed on."

The words taste bitter on Jaebeom’s tongue, its weight heavy. He is not ready to accept the fact that Yujin is gone. He desperately wishes that it's all a dream, and that he’s just waiting to wake up. But his enhanced powers are clear evidence that it’s real. That he felt Yujin’s body disintegrating in his arms, that he heard her last goodbye.

Even though he’s still in denial, the only thing he can do for Yujin is to properly send her off. He decided to hold the procession at the Garden. The fountain is now gone, its water dried when Jaebeom returned. The Earth faes in the house help to erect a tombstone to honor Yujin. Everyone mourns for her, their heads down. Yeri herself is bawling her eyes out.

Jaebeom stays still, silently gazing at the tombstone. Only when the crowd disperses did the fae let his emotions flow. The sorrow floods his entire being, and he can’t help the tears from falling. He thinks of her, recalling all the memories they created together. 

Initially, he was planning on making Yujin fall for him. He wanted her to trust him entirely. But the more he spent time with her, the more sincere he was. He genuinely enjoyed her company. It was as if he was the same youth Jaebeom who didn’t frown at the world. Momentarily, Jaebeom had forgotten about his original intention. Unbeknownst to him, Yujin had planted the seed of love in his heart. It sprouted through his chest, and bloomed flowers of love.

Now, it’s all too late. He underestimated how dear Yujin is to him. In the end, it wasn’t Yujin who was foolish. It’s Jaebeom himself. Yunho was right; he was blinded by his lust for power to see what truly matters most to him.

Jaebeom senses another presence nearby. He breathes before addressing him, “Scold me if you wish. Mock me for my foolishness. I deserve it.”

He hears a deep sigh from behind. Muffled footsteps, and then a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it lightly. 

“You didn’t know,” Jinyoung responds. “Don’t blame yourself for it.”

"But I should have looked into it. I should have checked the facts for myself. Why didn’t I delve deeper?"

“That’s enough, brother,” Jinyoung placates, sliding an arm around his broad shoulders. “What’s done is done. We cannot turn back time.”

“If only I could…” the Fire fae mumbles. "What am I supposed to do now? I'm so lost. And the Air court--” He sighs. “I have incurred the wrath of the Air court.”

“First, live for her," Jinyoung says, nodding at the tombstone. "After everything, Yujin still willingly gave up her life for you, so that you can proceed with your cause. The least you can do is make sure that her sacrifice wasn’t futile. So live on for her sake."

There’s a pause.

“Next, we shall overthrow the fae courts, one by one, starting with the Air court.”

[mrs-i-have-too-many-biases]

Bang Chan// Sun and Moon (-light)// Chapter seven

Summary: Sun and Moon, different from another, but both unmissable in the world. The sun is warm, it provides daylight. It represents life, strength and growth. The moon, the brightest and largest object in our night sky. It makes the earth more liveable and represents admiration, change, mystery and feelings. The sun is untouchable and unreachable, but what if his ,independent, sun(-shine) becomes his world? Tropes: Enemies to Lovers Season: Spring Pairing: Bang Chan X Reader (ft. Seo Changbin) AU: | Delinquent!Female Reader | Vice President!Bang Chan | School!AU | Non!Idol AU | Genre: Fluff/ HEAVY Angst Word Count: 8,9K Warnings: HEAVY Themes of bullying, death threats, Themes of Abuse, swearing, insults, Anxiety, Depression, Suicidal thoughts, Self-hatred Requested: Yes, (Reference) A/n: For the sake of the fiction, Chan is a twat in the story (his mother is very unpleasant in the story/this chapter), but only for imagines/ fiction purposes only. We all know better than that. I have mentioned his real-life sibling’s names in this chapter/story. Please remember to not harass them.

Y/n was a little out of breath and her body hurt slightly as she entered Chan’s room. She sat down with a sigh, trying to take the situation in. “I’m so sorry I told my parents like that-“ “It’s okay, it probably will clear up some thing to them.” Y/n muttered as she made herself comfortable on his bed.

“I’m sorry for their behaviour, from before and about today.” “It’s okay, you know if you want me to go, I can go right now. I don’t want there to be a conflict between your parents and you because of me.” “There isn’t, really. Well at least not anymore. I just want them to see that you’re so much more than tattoos and a so called ‘delinquent image’.” Chan stressed as he sat down next to her. “Besides, you’re not leaving. I don’t trust you outside, especially not with all those fractures. God knows what you would be up to, going to work I bet and get back to working out. You need to get some rest and let me and the others help you.” He added. “You know that I’d be fine just on my own, don’t you Chan?” She said with a small smile. “I know, and that’s why I want to help you this time.”

Y/n was about to continue arguing against Chan, but something else seemed to catch her attention. Chan turned slowly around to see what she was looking at and noticed the pictures he had put up of them together. He immediately started to stutter out gibberish and frantically tried to hide them from Y/n sight, causing her to laugh at his flustered state.

“Oh my- It’s not what you think! I- fuck!” Chan stressed as he tried to slam the pictures off the shelves I panic, but he was quickly stopped by Y/n who held him by the arm as she laughed. “It’s fine, I’m just surprised. I’ve never seen those before?” She wondered with a smug look on her face. “I-I certainly do not hide them whenever you would’ve come over- what no?” He stuttered, making her burst out in laughter yet again. “You’re cute Channie.” She said with a smile, not admitting that she had pictures printed out of them together as well.

The two were interrupted hours later by Chan’s father who peeped his head through the doorway. “Dinner’s ready.” He announced, before disappearing again. Chan and Y/n quickly following behind.

Chan noticed the nervous look on Y/n face. He held her by the waist in a swift move, hugging her in a comforting way, her heart beating loudly at the sudden action. The whole family sat together, and Y/n couldn’t deny it, but it was awkward as hell. “Y/n, my husband and I want to apologise to you.” Chan’s mother voiced, breaking the silence finally. “We’ve acted needlessly rude to you and we truly regret out immature actions. I hope you can find a way to forgive us?”

“It’s okay Misses Bang. I know that you only want the best for you son. I understand and I respect that. It’s also that I’m quite used to being judged already. Especially since people don’t know my background story...” And so Y/n told the Bang family everything.

They were shocked and saddened to hear the words leaving her mouth. It all sounded like a terrible nightmare. But that terrible nightmare was her actual life, or at least was up to that day when Chan found her.

“I can’t thank him enough for finding me, I wouldn’t know what would’ve happened to me if he would’ve been later or not there at all.” Y/n muttered in a sad voice. “Let’s be glad that didn’t happen and celebrate that you’re still here with us. And Y/n, we are once again terribly sorry. We will try our best to make it up to you.” Chan’s father states with a kind smile, making her smile back.

A warm feeling was filling her body, a loving sense of family had returned to her. Something that had been long for too long.

“Chan really, I can carry my books myself.” Y/n whined as she stepped out of the car with Chan, chasing him as he carried two heavy bookbags in his arms. “No, the doctor told us crystal clear that you need someone to help you carry things. Your stiches could rip open if you aren’t careful.” Chan states seriously. She let out a whine before she followed him to the building.

The pair received lots of looks from other students. Bang Chan, the popular vice president hanging out with the delinquent, again? People just couldn’t seem to wrap their heads around it. They also couldn’t seem to keep their butts out of other people’s business. Minho had met up with Chan and Y/n in front of the school, where he had already complained about how many people had already run up to him, asking what the deal was between Chan and Y/n, because a poor student was thinking about confessing her love to Chan this week.

“Poor girl.” Y/n muttered. “I know right, Chan has always been ‘smothered’ with confessions, yet he never accepted one.” Minho had informed before getting a notebook thrown to his face in middle of class by Chan who sat right in front of him. Jisung laughed loudly, Y/n did as well as she watched the three from her usual spot in the back.

Sooyun just happened to walk into the room at the wrong, yet best, time. She was about to sit next to Chan, where she usually sat, but to her surprise he stood up.

“You two are annoying, I’m going to sit with Y/n, at least she’s nice to be around with.” He playfully huffs to Minho and Jisung before seating himself in the back.

Sooyun watched his movements like a hawk eyeing its prey. She was about to protest and get him sit back next to her, but Jisung had grabbed her by the hand and pulled her down to her seat, stopping her from doing so. She huffs and turns herself away from them. Her ears caught the sound of Y/n and Chan laughing together in the back of the classroom, talking about whatever. Jealousy rose back into her body as she clenched her fists in anger. She had to do something about this, but what?

Days at school went by and to Y/n’s surprise, people had started to feel for her. She didn’t know why. She had told her story to the principal, explaining why she often skipped school and why she missed classes the past few weeks. There was a promise that her story wouldn’t be made public among the students of other teachers, for Y/n’s privacy and safety purposes.

Eventually Y/n figured that the fellow students were probably nice to her, because Chan and his whole clique were. So, she must’ve become ‘okay’ in their eyes.

There still were a few rotten apples to be found in between the others. They made Y/n out to be a clout chaser, that she wanted popularity or something like’s Chan’s status, his money. People had become quite creative and even said that she apparently wanted to become Chan so she could live a life where people actually liked her.

Y/n ignored the comments and never said anything about them. Especially since she believed that Chan had neve heard them, yet he did. He would look to his side as the whispers kept on going. She smiled at him and shot him a wink, a sign that she was okay. He wondered how she did it. How she handled with such people. It broke his heart to think that she used him. He knew she didn’t.

He wished they would had made an agreement, whenever she would argue that she could just go and stop bothering him, he would receive a thousand won from her. Chan would’ve been even richer by now if that was the deal.

In the meantime Chan wasn’t the only one who kept staring at Y/n, wondering how she did it. Sooyun could’ve been a character in Shrek by now, the green toxic tinting her from jealousy. She had enough of it. Y/n’s sudden gain of popularity, Chan’s attention and everything else she had been working years on to achieve. And here Y/n was, snatching it all away from her within days.

And so, suddenly. Y/n’s life turned upside down, once again. Y/n would walk into the school one day and receive the old nasty stares from everyone again. People bumped into her intentionally, making her hiss in pain, her body still not being completely healed. Chan yelled after them, the quickly asking if she was okay. “I’m fine.” She would mutter back. When they entered the room, a bunch of girls would pull Chan away from Y/n, leaving the both stunned. “What are you doing? Get off me.” Chan glared as he tried to shake the girls’ hands off. “Chan, you need to stay away from her.” “She’s not who you think she is.” The other cried out as they continued to pull them further away from Y/n.

“What are you talking about?” Y/n sighed as she crossed her arms, still in pain. “Don’t act so innocent bitch. You know fully well what you did.” A girl said as she shoved her phone in Y/n’s face. There was a news video playing on her screen. The colour seemed to leave Y/n’s skin as she watched how a journalist talked about her life, her story with her father. She was exposed, but something wasn’t right.

‘… we’re informed from a secured source, that y/l/n, a y/age girl, has drinking problems, abused her father and even thrown him in rehab when she should’ve been the one needing detoxifying…’

“They changed the story. That’s not true-“ Y/n was cut off by the pictures she was shown, also shown in the video that was still playing. They were pictures of her father, bruises all over his body and passed out on the ground. Y/n had seen her father drunk plenty of times, when he was drunk, he could easily hurt himself. She remembered that day, but she just couldn’t figure out how that picture was taken.

“How did this happen.” Y/n murmured to herself in shock. “Just admit it, your true colours are out. We’ve always known that you were nothing but a dense delinquent.” The girl spat, a sly smirk following next. “You know nothing.” Y/n snarled back, stepping closer to the girl. “What were you going to do? Hit me? I think it would be a great addition to your abuse-story, make people hate you more than they already do.” The same girl snarled, a witch-like laugh following.

Y/n turned to Chan in panic, but he was still struggling to get the girls off him.

As soon as Y/n had stepped out of the classroom she was once again swarmed by girls who were ready to protect Chan from her.

Their filth were getting to her head and the boys eventually came into the picture to defend her, but no one seemed to believe them or her. “She must’ve been lying to all of you, it’s all over the news. Every drama channel is talking about it as well.” “This is absurd, you believe those rumours, but not the person who the story is actually about?” “Why should we believe her lies? She’s dysfunctional, she always has been. Besides Sooyun told us that Chan told her himself.”

The words made Y/n’s head take a toll. “He did what now?” Y/n hissed anger firing up her heart. “Oh, please. Don’t pretend you didn’t know. You probably did all of this to get attention, didn’t you? To get Chan to like you and his little friends, well believe us it didn’t work. It’s for the best that Chan has put you back in your place, you’re an awful human being, you shouldn’t be allowed to walk around on earth. You’re not even fucking worthy to be breathing the same air as us-“ Y/n quickly pushed the girls aside when Sooyun was locked into her vision. “You! What the fuck did you do!” Y/n yelled as she stormed her way to Sooyun. “I didn’t do anything.” She said with a wicked smile. Y/n was holding back her tears as she wanted to rip that devilish smile off her face.

Felix would try to calm Y/n down, but he couldn’t stop her from talking as she yelled at Sooyun. “Y/n, sweetheart, here you are blaming me, but aren’t you the one who told Chan everything? He’s the one who gave me the information. How else would people know. You sure as hell didn’t tell me in person.” Sooyun states, which sets Y/n to think. It couldn’t have been Changbin, he didn’t know Sooyun. She didn’t tell Felix, Minho and Jisung anything with deep detail, yet Chan knew everything about her. There were even pictures taken of her passed out father. It seemed too bad to be true. It couldn’t be, right?

To Chan’s inconvenience, he walked right into the conversation at the wrong time. He looked at the two girls in confusion as he was stared at by the both. “Chan, did you…” Y/n couldn’t seem to get the words past her throat, but Sooyun seemed glad to steal the words from her mouth. “Chan, you were the cause of all of this, weren’t you?” Sooyun states, making him shot his head towards her in shock and confusion. “N-no, what are you talking about- Y/n I would never-“ “How do people know about all of this then? It’s told into detail, things I haven’t even told Changbin were exposed in that fucking clip. Explain that! I can’t believe this-“ Y/n cried out in frustration, feeling stupid for ever trusting him at all. “I should’ve known better.” “I’m sorry to say this Y/n, but Chan never seemed to actually care about you.” Sooyun snarled.

“Haven’t you said enough.” Y/n hissed to the girl in front of her. “I’m just saying, Chan never stood up for you whenever someone talked trash about you. We went on dates together and the things he said about you weren’t pretty-“ “Hold on- I never said anything-“ “But you never argued against them either, if you really cared about that poor girl, you would’ve defended her, wouldn’t you?” She said, trying to hold back a smirk as everything seemed to go just as she wished. “Y/n, please, don’t believe her.” Chan begged. “No, she’s right. Months ago, you wouldn’t even look at me, why would you now. I can’t believe how foolish I am to believe you.” Y/n sighed, she felt betrayed and just couldn’t look him in the eye right now.

She quickened her pace and ran out of the building, Chan was about to follow her, wanting to set things right, because this sure as hell wasn’t. He was held back by the same girls, who tried to make him seem that she wasn’t worth it and whatever filth they were trying to fill his mind with.

Y/n had been running for over thirty minutes by now, her hood covering her face as she made her way across the city. Her bones hurt, her arms felt like they were being ripped open as she rushed through the crowd, bumping into people constantly and receiving dirty looks from them as she ran past them.

She didn’t know if it was because they might had seen the video, or if they already knew her by her old reputation. Y/n finally made it to the parlour and stormed inside, completely ignoring Hyunjin who looked at her shocked when he saw he walk in. “Y/n, where’s Chan? Shouldn’t you be at school- what’s wrong? Are you crying- Y/n!” He called after her as paced to Changbin’s wing of the parlour. He jumped in surprise when he heart the curtains being ripped open. The smile on his face quickly dropped when he saw Y/n’s broken state and he rushed to her side to hold her close but carefully.

Her body being like glass to him that had been shattered too many times, put back together and on the edge of being broken again.

“…I never should’ve trusted him.” Changbin understood in-between the sobs that came from Y/n. “Who? Who hurt you? What’s going on? Why aren’t you with Chan? What happened?” Changbin had held Y/n face into his hands as she kept on crying, the tears rolling over his tattooed hands. Y/n murmured in-between her cries the explanation of what happened at school earlier.

Changbin was furious, he was planning of giving Chan a piece of his mind, he didn’t care that he was at school or at home, this was just sick. But for now, he needed Y/n to calm down. He felt her heart racing through her chest as he held her close. He sat her down and hugged her as she rubbed her back. The pain she must be feeling right now were probably unbearable, so he sussed her to sleep and asked Hyunjin to keep an eye on her as he went out to look for Chan.

Changbin didn’t had to look for long to find Chan as he was at home. Changbin rather punched the door than knocked, before the door swung open. “Bin! I’m so glad you’re here! I can’t find Y/n, I’ve looked everywhere-“ Chan was cut off by a punch that was thrown to his jaw and he stumbled back into his apartment. Changbin followed him in and grabbed him by the collar before throwing another punch to his ‘friend’s’ face. “What was that for!” “Who the fuck do you think you are Bang Chan! What is your bloody deal?” Changbin yelled as he shook Chan in anger, still holding him by the collar. “She went to you, didn’t she?” Chan asked, feeling slightly relieved.

“She did, and I’m glad she did. She came to me crying after all this time. Do you know when the last time was when I saw her cry?” Changbin snarled. “Never, because I don’t make her cry Bang.” “Listen! It’s not what you think! I’m being set up!” Chan cried out. “Sure you are, is this why you want Y/n to be with you these past few weeks. You never like her anyway. Y/n always complained about this vice president who just couldn’t stop harassing her with harsh words and nasty looks. Why should I believe you? I bet you wanted to ruin her all along-“ “I never- no, no! That’s not true!” Chan yelled.

“There’s no reason why I should believe you over the girl who has come crying to me, spilling her heart out on how everyone hates her again.” The fight went on for longer, they exchanged punches and eventually they were panting as they stood in front of each other again, yelling at one another with a black eye and bleeding lips.

“And who the fuck do you think you are! You act like you’re the only who cares about her!” Chan yells. “Well I do care about! I actually do and I show it! I have her trust unlike you!” “What do you think you’re her boyfriend or something?” Chan yelled. “Why do you care? Are you in love with her or something?” Changbin snarled back, leaving Chan stunned in silence.

The silence said enough for Changbin to figure out how it is. “What, you think you can fucking do this and confess your love to her right after-“ “I told you already that I’m being set up!” Chan yells in anger. “Sure buddy, at least she trusts me. You know she does. She comes back running to me every time you mess up. And how many times have that been by now?”

Chan was still panting, but he didn’t know what else to say. He messed up a lot. He wanted to make everything right, but this just made everything worse than it should be, he didn’t understand how this all happened anyway. His mind was blurry and he was confused, because he had his priorities set on Y/n.

“Changbin please-“ “Do you really think I will bring you to her? To break her heart once again after you had your way with it. To ‘confess’ to her and play games with her mind again. I thought not so, buddy.” “Changbin please, I do-“ “I bet I could confess to her right now and she would be with me. I’ve been her friend for the longest time, my parents already thought it would be time for us to step it up. People already think we’re a couple, why not put the title on our relationship?” Changbin snarled.

“Maybe, I should just confess my love to her.” Changbin added as he almost threatened Chan.

Chan felt his heart break and he dropped down on his knees. The tears were flowing down his cheeks and soon past his fingers as he hid his face in his hands. “Bin, please. I love her so much. My heart is in constant pain because of her. Not because she hurts me, but because she has been so good to me. She’s so different, so special. I-I don’t know how to describe it. She’s breath-taking, she’s so much more I could ever wish for in someone. My parents want me to be with a snob rich kid, who only cares about her reputation and the numbers on her bank account. They want me to think about my status and push my feelings aside. I can’t help it Bin, I love her. I love her so much. The past month I’ve felt so free with her. She has no expectations for me, she doesn’t expect me to pay for everything. She always fought me whenever I did, she’d argue with me that she could buy things herself, because ‘she’s an independent woman’.” Chan chuckles as he leaned back on the couch behind him.

“My parents don’t like her, because they can’t see past her appearance. It’s sad. They don’t experience, they don’t see the beauty that she carries. She’s so kind, she’s funny, she makes my heart race and make me do dumb things. Like, skipping school to go on a trip. I have to say that it was the best day of my life, that’s for sure. I’m just an idiot for being such a fool.” Chan cried out.  

Changbin sighed as well and sat down next to Chan. “I had a feeling you might’ve been in love with her.” Changbin admitted. Chan looked surprised to his side and eyed Changbin, who ended up bursting into laughter. “If you keep asking about her, then you aren’t playing it off to well mate.” Changbin chuckled, causing Chan to blush.

“Let me tell you another thing about Y/n. You’ve got to know her well up until now and apparently you did a pretty good job doing it since she opened up to you. If you want her to like you, the way you like her. Just be there for her and support her through her hardships.” Changbin’s words causes Chan to burst out in tears again. “I tried! But I keep messing up. I fucked up so many times, where I knew I should’ve been there for her or should’ve stood up for her, but I didn’t.” Chan cried out.

Changbin sighed and got back on his feet. He offered his friend a hand and Chan smiled as he took it. A couple minutes later, they were cleaning their wounds and kept talking together. “Chan, how did you end up in this mess?” Changbin asked softly. “I don’t know man, first thing I know is that I was smiling and laughing with Y/n, then next thing I know. I’m being ripped away from her by some other kids and following that, Y/n running away from the scene.” Chan sighed. “Y/n is really worn off, she ran all the way from school to my parlour. Eyes red from crying and in a lot of pain, I thought her wounds weren’t healed yet.” Changbin states. “They aren’t.” Chan cried out in frustration, guilt and sadness taking over his body.

The boys were interrupted by Changbin’s phone, Hyunjin had texted him. Saying that he had brough Y/n to Changbin’s apartment due to her request.

Chan read along with Changbin and was glad that Y/n was safe.

Changbin sighed once again after pulling his hoodie back over his head, done with cleaning his wounds. “You need to fix this, I don’t know how or where to start, but you need to.” Changbin states. “I know.” Chan let out a whimper, feeling like crying again. “Hey, it will be alright. I’ll make sure she’s okay and I’ll help you figure this out.” Changbin promises. “Really? Aren’t you mad at me?” “I am still a little fired up, but something isn’t right. I can feel it. Besides, I can tell you truly feel for her, I appreciate that you opened up to me.” Changbin voiced in honesty. “So, you aren’t going to…” “No, I’m not going to confess. I was just furious in the moment. I’m sorry.” “No, I am. Thank you Bin.”

When Changbin arrived home, he went to look for Y/n. He panicked a little when he didn’t find her in her room. He ran to his own room, only to find Y/n sound asleep on his bed, Gyu tightly wrapped in her arms. He sighed in relieve and went to lay next to her.

A couple days later, Chan went out for a walk. His jaw still hurt from the punch, he well deservingly, got from Changbin the other day. It was already late and it started to get dark outside. Chan mindlessly revisited the spot where he and Y/n had their first ‘date’ together.

Memories flashed beyond his eyes as he saw the exact spot where they took pictures together. He couldn’t help but smile to himself as he remembered the way she laughed at his lame jokes, how she lit up when she ate his food and enjoyed each other’s company. He remembered holding her in his arms as they danced slowly in the middle of the park, not giving a damn if someone was watching.

His pleasant revisits of memories were cut off by the slurs of a drunken man who wandered around the park. Chan ignored the man, not wanting to be involved into any type of trouble. Unfortunately, the man thought otherwise.

He started to yell and shout around and eventually his eyes caught Chan and decided to stumble his way, rather quick, towards him. Chan noticed the bottle of liquor and a piece of paper in the man’s hand as he caught up to Chan. “You,” the man started. Chan wanted to gag by the disgusting smell of alcohol filling his sense that came from the man. “You look familiar kid.” The man slurred. “I’m sorry sir, I have no idea who you are.” Chan said quickly whilst his eyes looked for someone to help him, but no one seemed to be out at this hour.

“You! You’re this kid!” The man slurred out loudly as he waved a paper, which seemed like a picture, into Chan’s face. Chan’s heart dropped when he recognised the picture. It was a picture of him and Y/n from their first date. “Y-you’re Y/n’s father-“ “I sure as hell am! And you are the piece of shit who brought me into that hell hole! Taking my daughter away from me and daring to involve into our businesses!” The man screamed as he dropped the paper and filling his hand with the collar of Chan’s jacket.

“Sir, please I don’t want any trouble.” Chan begged. “Too bad buddy. You shouldn’t have interfered into our business. You should’ve left your stuck-up ass in one of your little penthouses.” Chan to get away from the man, before anything bad could happen. But Y/n’s father’s grip seemed to be stronger than he thought. “Sir, please let me go-“ “Nah, I have to show this rich city boy what the consequences are like when you ruin my life.”

Chan closed his eyes shut and prepared himself for what was coming, only remembering a piercing pain and darkness taking over him.

“Y/n, Y/n wake up.” Changbin yelled in a whisper as he shook her awake. She groaned in annoyance and pushed him off. “Just five more hours.” Y/n groaned as she hid her head under her pillow. “Y/n it’s an emergency, Chan’s in the hospital.” The words made Y/n shot up. She felt confused, because she didn’t know how to feel about him at the moment, but something inside of her told her to go. “Put on a hoodie and let’s go.”

Y/n and Changbin arrived at the hospital, only to see Chan’s parents and siblings in their pyjama’s as they waited nervously. Chan’s mother was hysterically crying, Lucas and Hannah were tiredly sitting back in their seat, pacing back and forth in anxiousness.

Y/n made eye contact with the mother who immediately pointed violently to her as she started to cry out to her. “You! This is your fault! You’re the reason he’s in the hospital isn’t it?” She yelled as she was being held back by her husband, who quickly argued against his wife alongside the kids. “Honey, this isn’t her fault. The doctor said Chan was attacked by a drunk man.” “D-do you perhaps know what he looked like?” Y/n asked carefully. “No, but he’s send back to rehab, apparently he escaped somehow.” Chan’s father explained, causing Y/n to stumble back. “Y/n, you don’t think that your…” Changbin whispered, not daring to finish his sentence. “I-I hope not. If he has found Chan, he could find me-“ “I wouldn’t let that happen Dumpling, you know that. You’re safe with me.” Changbin assured as he hugged her, whilst they all waited for the results from the doctor.

Which finally came in after forty minutes of waiting. Hannah and Lucas had fallen asleep, too tired from waiting since it was quite late already. “…your son will be fine mister and misses Bang. I do have to inform that he apparently has been hit by a glass bottle and is unconscious right now. We don’t know when he will wake up, but we are sure to keep a close eye on him. You can see him now, direct family first please.”

Y/n could hear the worried cries from his parents coming from the room as she and Changbin still waited. Changbin voiced that he felt guilty for beating his friend up. Y/n admitted that she didn’t know yet how to feel about Chan yet. If she even wanted to be there, especially after what Chan did to her. “Y/n, I understand that you have hard feeling towards him right now, but do consider that there is something wrong. Something just doesn’t add up.” Changbin states, setting Y/n to thinking.

Days had passed and Chan still hadn’t awakened from his unconscious state. She had seen how hard it had been for his parents and she truly hoped that Chan would wake up soon. Y/n also had been thinking about what Changbin had told her the other day, but it just makes her even more confused than that she already was.

‘He’s so nice, he has been for the past months, why would he do this?’ She questioned herself as she walked towards the hospital, wanting to visit Chan. ‘Chan hasn’t always been nice to me though, why would he become nice to me all of the sudden? Was it an act since he was forced to tutor me? Or did he actually mean everything he said- this better not be a fucking bet or I will throw him back into his hospital bed as soon as he’s able to leave it.’ Y/n growled in her mind as she now stomped her way to the hospital.

“Y/n, calm down. There must be something going on, like Binnie said.” She said to herself, before she took a deep breath and entered the building.

When Y/n arrived at Chan’s room, she wasn’t surprised to see his mother there. She had been staying there for the past couple days, not wanting to leave her oldest son alone, especially at a time of vulnerability. She shot Y/n a side eye when she entered the room.

“Hello misses Bang.” She said politely as she bowed for her. “Y/n.” She sighed as she focused on her son again. Y/n looked at the monitor that kept track of his heartbeats, which seemed mostly steady. “How is he doing?” Y/n tried to ask, but not receiving an answer from the woman in front of her.

Chan’s mother would sigh after a period of silence and turn herself to Y/n with a serious look on her face. “Don’t you think you’ve done enough.” She sighed, causing Y/n to become angry. “I’m sorry, but I’m tired of this. With all the respect, but you keep pretending as if this is all my fault, when you sure as hell know that it is not.” Y/n snapped. “If my son never interfered with you and your issues, none of this would’ve ever happened.” She cried out in frustration. “First of all, Chan and I were both forced together by our principal who made him tutor me. And besides that, don’t you think I know that. Because my drunken dad had to escape and somehow find Chan, he’s hurt. Don’t you think that I think this is all because of me? If you don’t you are pretty dense.” Y/n snarled.

“I think it’s time for you to leave.” His mother said calmly as she took her son’s hand into hers. “Fine, I’ll go. But I just want to make sure that you know that, Chan means a lot to me. You’ve raised one hell of a son. He’s absolutely amazing. He’s sweet, caring, charming and humble. You re lucky to have a son like him. I know you don’t like me ma’am, I’m aware of it, but I love that guy. So much. I don’t even know what to do with my feelings since I know you would never accept me and my ‘issues’. Everything I’ve told you and your family is true ma’am and Chan helped me through a lot of them. And I love him for that, more that you could ever know.” Y/n said as tears stream down her face. Both of their faces turned to the monitor when Chan’s heart skipped a beat, before Y/n continued to rant.

“I know I’m not perfect and that I never will be, that’s why I respect your request and I’ll leave as soon as I’m done ranting, but just know this ma’am. There’s much more to me than the tattoos and old stories that belongs with my past. He was focused on who I am today and saw good in me. Something not a lot of people notice in me.”

Chan’s mother looked at Y/n stunned and surprised. She would’ve never guessed such meaningful words coming out of Y/n’s mouth. She gulped loudly and tried not to show how Y/n’s words had moved her to tears.

“I’ll get going then, goodbye ma’am.” Y/n whispered, before she bowed and left. Her heart aching as she just admitted to someone other than herself, her feelings for Chan.

During her rant the two women didn’t know Chan could hear everything the two said. He felt like he couldn’t move, his body was numb and uncontrollable. His heart sped up in panic when he heart her leaving.

Before she exited the room, he could make out a whisper. “No… stay…” His mother, who was now alone with him again in the room, shot her attention to her son, who also managed to squeezed the hand he was holding slightly. His mother thought he was talking to her, when in reality Chan was begging in his mind for Y/n to come back. For her to confess her love to him over and over again, that’s all he wanted to hear. He wanted to see her again, he wanted to tell her that he loved her too.

“Don’t worry Channie, I’m right here.” His mother said as she kissed her son’s hair. Chan was glad she was there, but all he wanted right now, was Y/n to be by his side.

His mother knew better though. She knew the words were meant for Y/n. She had observed her son and had of course seen the pictures of the two in Chan’s room when she went to bring him his freshly washed clothes. She was shocked at first to see her son and this trouble maker of a girl together, but she couldn’t lie to herself. She saw how happy her son seemed with Y/n. She has at least never seen pictures of Chan and Sooyun together in Chan’s room.

That was one of the moments where she realised that Y/n was something special that Chan was planning on keeping close to his heart. When Chan brought Y/n home almost every day, she started to feel scared and thought that her son might take things too fast and he should reconsider his other possibilities.

But it seemed like Chan had already made his choice. She brushed her son’s hair as she looked down at him and knew that he had it all figured out already.

Well, most of it.

After calling in sick for a week at school, she was now forced again to attend classes. And yet again, there were students blaming Y/n for Chan’s injuries and him ending up in the hospital. Y/n had been doing quite well with ignoring all of them.

“I’m surprised you aren’t put in jail yet. That’s where you belong.” “Don’t say that. You’re insulting the prisoners when you compare them to that.” Another girl said as she nodded toward Y/n, laughing annoyingly right after.

As Y/n had been continuing to go to school, everything seemed to go downhill for her. The three boys couldn’t seem to cheer her up. They did manage to make everyone back off and leave her alone, but it wasn’t enough for Y/n.

She looked so depressed and it broke their hearts. They were confused as well, but they knew this wasn’t the Y/n they had always known. The Y/n they knew was strong, independent and could shine as bright as the sun whenever she was happy or in her own habitat. The Y/n who sat in front of them was laying her hear on the table as it rested on her arm. Her glow seemed to be gone and they wanted nothing more than to fix it for her.

One day, Y/n would call in sick anyway, saying that her body still hurt too bad, making up the excuse or else the school wouldn’t let her stay in. Changbin didn’t know this and was surprised once again to see his best friend arrive at the parlour. Hyunjin noticed Y/n gloominess and called Changbin in as soon as he could.

Changbin’s heart broke and brought her to his wing where they could talk. Hyunjin decided to give the two some space and went out to do so. “What’s wrong?” Changbin asked carefully as he took her hands in his. “I-I can’t do this anymore Bin.” She sobbed in front of him, her body shaking from exhausting, not only physically but also mentally.

“W-what do you mean? Please Dumpling, talk to me.” Changbin’s voice was shaking in fear as he suspected the worse. “I don’t want to go on Bin, I can’t do this anymore. Everyone hates me. Everyone is against me and I’m ruined. Why does everyone hate me? Why always me? I hate myself so much Changbin. Chan is in the hospital because of me, my dad is in rehab and was probably looking for me. He hates me as well. Maybe I should listen to everyone and just-“

“Don’t you fucking say that!” Changbin yelled out as he stood up with tears streaming down his face as his heart broke, piece by piece. “But Bin-“ “No! I won’t let you. I will fucking end myself if you ever try to end your life! You don’t want that right?” “That’s just mean Bin.” She whispers whilst looking up to him with tears-filled eyes.

“And this isn’t? Think about how much pain I’d be in if you ever leave me. I was already in so much pain when I was in Japan and I couldn’t be with you. Fucking hell, I even hired Felix to keep an eye on you, because I needed to know how you really were. Please. I love you, you’re my best friend. I can’t live without you, you’re my better half, you’re my partner in crime and I can’t afford to lose you. Besides, I know there is someone, who I can’t name, but this person loves you so much. I can’t even explain how much this person loves you. Please Y/n, will you promise to stay?” Changbin cried out, causing Y/n to cry out as well.

Changbin sat down next to her and brought her into his arms as they cried their hearts out together, “I’m sorry Binnie.” She sobbed into his shoulder, hugging him tighter. “It’s alright Dumpling, you’re safe as long as you’re with me. And I promise you. I’m not going anywhere.”

Meanwhile, at the hospital Chan had finally awaken to everyone’s joy. He groaned out loudly when he opened his eyes for the first time in days. His head was pounding, his chest hurt and he felt a weird tube in his nose that he assumed was to feed him, so he wouldn’t die of hunger. He couldn’t remember much, everything seemed like a vague dream.

His mother would swaddle him as soon as the doctors said she could, after they had finished their check-ups. “Where’s Y/n?” He’d ask eventually. “Goodness dear, think about yourself for a second. You’re the one who’s hospitalized.” His mother argued as she tucked him in. “Mom, seriously, how is she.” When his mother chose to ignore him, he got mad. “Just forget about her Chan, think about your health.” She scoffs, only making Chan angrier. “No! I’m done with you and dad always deciding for me what to do or who to be!” His mother was surprised by her son’s reaction. “All my life you have been planning my future, not even giving me a chance to think or speak for myself! I’ve always pleased you! By winning all my competitions I attended, all my grades are better than others. You made my life an actual competition and I’m done with it! I get that you want me to think about myself, but from now on I’m done listening to you two. I have a voice of my own and I won’t let the two of you decide for me anymore. I’m a young adult for God’s sake!” Chan exclaimed in frustration.

“I get that you and dad are looking out for me, but once I fall in love with someone, I just feel like you want to ruin that for me. Because you want me to be with a shitty snob who only cares about money and her status. I have better things to do than think about the numbers on my bank account and how my hair looks. I want someone who’s interesting, who has a deep personality, someone I could talk to in the middle of the night about anything and everything.” Chan sighs as he sat back, looking away from his mother as he tried to calm down.

His mother knew her son was right and sighed as she tried to stroke his cheek in comfort. “We’ll talk about this at home, okay?” “No! Stop ignoring this! You know I’m right!” Chan yelled as he sat up. “Channie, please lay back down.” His mother almost begged. “All I’m asking was how she was! I get that you hate her, but just answer the bloody question. I already have no idea what the hell happened to me. I only know the things you all told me and I don’t know who to believe anymore! She hasn’t visited me at all and that might be my own fault, but she’s still healing mom. Someone needs to help her out. I just want to make sure she’s alright, okay.” Chan cried out.

His mother sighed and stood up and left the room for now, knowing Chan needed some time alone. She saw how upset he was, almost heartbroken that she hadn’t visited him. She couldn’t help but feel guilty for sending Y/n away every time she came to visit him.

Chan laid back in his bed and he felt like crying. He was just so worried about her. He couldn’t help it. Eventually Chan would realise that she would be safe at Changbin’s. He sighed and felt envious that he was able to be with Y/n, whilst he was stuck in his hospital bed. Chan would look to his side and pick up his phone before he scrolled through is gallery. Deciding to revisit the happy memories before he fell back asleep.

“Chan, Channie wake up there’s someone here to see you.” A familiar voice woke him up before he fully opened his eyes, unsurprisingly his mother came into his vision. Still feeling angry with her he turned away from her, causing her to sigh. “Fine, you don’t have to look at me. I guess I deserve that. But at least look at her when you talk to her.” She mutters, still pressing a kiss on her son’s hair through his protest.

Chan looked away from his mother to see Y/n standing at the end of his bed, a small smile plastered on her face as she looked at him. She looked better, still tired and a little bruised, but her wounds definitely healed well. Chan was startled at her presence and shot up in his bed. Feeling a little embarrassed as well since he probably looked like a mess. “I’ll be down in the cafeteria if you need me.” Chan’s mother states before she exited the room, leaving Chan and Y/n alone.

Chan tried to find the right words to say, but was quickly interrupted by the tears that suddenly flowed down Y/n’s face. “Hey, hey! What’s wrong?” Chan asks as he mentioned to her to sit beside him. “I’m sorry, none of this would’ve ever happened if-“ “No, don’t cry. This isn’t your fault.” Chan assured as he brought her in his arms. “But-“ “No buts, this isn’t your fault, none of this is. I’m fine Sunshine, I’m not going to lie, I missed you.” He chuckled, causing her to burst out in laughter as well as she tried to stop her crying.

“I missed you too.” She pulled away from him and caressed his cheeks as she looked at him. “Are you okay?” She asked him as she realised that she was actually with him in the hospital. “I am, don’t worry. I’ll be back on my feet in no time.” He chuckled as he leaned into her hand affectionately, also couldn’t help but feel like she was the cutest being in the world right now. “How have you been? Do your arms still hurt?” Chan asks as she inspected them. “They healed well. Felix and the others have helped out a lot. I owe them one, I promised them to make them something ‘scrumptious’ when everything calms down a little.” She said with an awkward chuckle, but was surprised to hear Chan burst out in laughter.

“Where did you get the word ‘scrumptious’ from?” He wheezed. “Trust me, ever since you’re gone, Jisung and Minho have been fighting on who is smarter and they had this vocabular battle. I picked up some of the words after laughing my ass off.” She giggled. “I’m glad they’re good to you.” Chan sighs in relief.

“I’m glad too.” Y/n said before the two sat in silence for a period of time, not later being broken by Y/n who nervously asked Chan what happened to her dad. “I heard that he was brought back to rehab, but a stricter one with more security and supervisors.” “I-I’m scared Chan, I know he was looking for me. I-I should’ve been more careful, you wouldn’t be in pain right now.” She cried again. “Don’t cry, you’re safe with me. I promise.” Chan whispers as he hugged her tight.

She relaxed into his touch and buried her face in the crook of his neck. He had his hands on both of her cheeks and she leaned into his touch, just like he did minutes ago. She was stunning to him, even if she had cried her eyes out only seconds before. Chan felt like he had to tell her, it was now or never. He sat up and leaned closely towards her as he kept staring deep into her eyes. “What?” She giggled in a whisper, feeling flustered by the sweet smile he was sending her.

Chan’s heart was racing, the words were on the tip of his tongue and he felt like he left his sanity and mind in cloud nine. “I like you.” He whispered. Y/n was taken back by his confession and leaned back in surprise, looking at him in expectation of him to tell her that he was joking. “What?” She asks him again. “I like you Y/n. I’ve had feelings for you for some time now.” He admitted with a smile plastered on his face.

Y/n’s heart was racing, but unfortunately not because she was happy. “Don’t say that. Don’t say things you don’t mean.” She stuttered, feeling her heart increasing beats per second. “What do you mean? Y/n-“ “I have to go.” She murmurs as she got off the bed, anxiety overtaking her esteem as she picked up her pace. 

A nurse had walked in the middle of the scene, obviously not knowing what was going on and was surprised when she saw Y/n run past her, out of the room. Chan was ready to jump out of bed and run after her, but the nurse had other plans. She ordered him to get back into bed since he wasn’t fully recovered yet and it could do major damage to his body.

In the cafeteria Chan’s mother spotted Y/n running through the building with tears streaming down her face. She got up and wanted to catch up to Y/n, but she was too quick and eventually disappeared in the crowd. She hurried to Chan’s room where she found her son crying. She asked him what happened and Chain explained through his sobs that he had confessed to Y/n. Chan felt heartbroken and confused. 

“I don’t get it mom, why would she react that way?” Chan sobbed softly as he looked at his mother with big, teary eyes. “I don’t know honey, maybe she’s scared. She has lost quite some loved ones already. She might be scared to have her beloved close in her life. We don’t know honey.” She mutters as she rubbed her son’s back.

Chan immediately felt a wave of guilt washing over him and started to cry out harder. “I should’ve been more sensitive. I didn’t realise that. I should’ve been more careful.” Chan cried. “There, there. Don’t worry love, the two of you will be fine. I know you will. Besides, you have always been caring, especially towards her. From what I’ve seen?” She chuckles. “She will turn by honey, trust me.” She added, before pressing another kiss on her son’s head.

She knew that Y/n felt the same way as the son did, but it wasn’t her job to tell him that.

Gif isn’t mine

[kumeko]

A/N: For the Pandora Hearts Reverse Big Bang! My partner Hadrian drew an adorable piece of the three of them sleeping together and I wanted to write a fluffy AU for that (look, I really need a world where Lacie and Oswald live).

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At twenty, Gilbert Nightray was used to plans going awry. It was par the course when it came to the mischievous Oz Vessalius. Despite being childhood friends for over 15 years, the only thing Gil could predict about Oz was that his suggestions never went as expected. Toss in the ever-hungry Alice, and well, there really was no point in planning, just preparing. Luckily, that was something Gil was good at. Every time they went off on an adventure, he packed a bag full of first aid kits, healing potions, and enough supplies to last a week.

 However, even he couldn’t have predicted the situation they were in. As they raced through the forest, Gil glanced over his shoulder to confirm that yes, a giant elephant-sized boar was chasing them. He pressed a hand against his hat to keep it from flying off.

 “Why are we running?” Oz asked breathlessly, just barely managing to keep apace. His physical strength wasn’t great on his best days, and after he’d been cursed…well, what little muscle he’d gained in the past ten years was gone.

 “Why do you think?” Gil snapped, his trench coat flapping behind him as he leapt over an overgrown root. Behind him the boar angrily snapped his head at an offending tree, skewering it with his horns. Wood splintered from the onslaught and Gil paled—that could have easily been them. That could still be them.

“We could just fight it!” Oz argued, his green eyes glowing slightly as he started to summon his magic.

 “Your magic isn’t what it used to be,” Gil argued, resisting the urge to tuck him under his arm like a ball and just sprint out. He probably could. Oz was ten now, not twenty, and as tiny as he was, he’d be easy to carry.

 “I want to eat him,” Alice announced, her eyes taking on a more rabbit-like appearance.  

 “Aren’t rabbits supposed to be herbivores?” Gil immediately whacked the back of her head. Maybe he should just tuck both of them under his arm—two ten-year-olds couldn’t be that heavy, right? “We’re only barely ahead of that thing because the forest’s slowing it down.”

 “But he could be tasty,” Alice protested, glancing over her shoulder. She licked her lips in anticipation.

 “Why is it always food for you?” Gil grumbled. Honestly, Alice’s first approach to everything was bite first, ask questions later.

 “Because meat is king,” she declared triumphantly. Why was that her answer to everything? Her physical strength was far greater than Oz’s, no matter what age. Gil wished it wasn’t; he’d rather hear her wheeze and pant than be forced to listen to whatever stupid inane thought crossed her mind.

 “And you’re too weak too fight,” Gil pointed out, feeling a headache forming. He had medicine for that. “You guys are younger, you can’t act like you normally do! You,” he turned to Oz, “Don’t have the magical reserves. And you,” he directed his glare at Alice, “Can’t fight like you used to.”

 Alice’s cheeks puffed, the sign of an impending sulk and Gil’s headache worsened. Oz frowned. “We could still fight it.”

 “Didn’t you promise Oscar you’d stay out of trouble?” Gil pleaded, ducking an overly tall branch. While the boar was slower, he hadn’t stopped. Every step caused a tremor and it was a miracle none of them had fallen over yet.

 “But—” Oz whined.

 “And Lacie—” Gil cut himself off immediately; it was always a mistake to bring up Alice’s mother. She was even wilder than her daughter. A better tack was her overprotective uncle. “Oswald? Did you agree to be careful for him?”

 “Booo,” Alice pouted as she hopped over a stone. “I can fight.”

 The earth shook behind them. Gil barked, “Not against that!”

 And then, before they could protest, he grabbed their hands. If he had to drag them to safety, he would.

 -x-

 “I think we’re getting close,” Alice muttered, sniffing the air as she lifted a branch with a hand. While she hadn’t fully transformed into her rabbit form, her red eyes and long, claw-like fingers gave her an inhuman look.

 Gil could never get used to her partial transformations. Full transformations were fine, he could handle giant, bow-tied rabbits and short, ill-tempered women. Actually, considering how much Alice ate, it was amazing that she’d never grown taller, that even at twenty she couldn’t reach higher than his chest. Pulling his gun out of its holster, he asked, “Are you sure?”

 “What do you mean, am I sure?” Irate, she glared at him. It was more annoying than intimidating. “My nose is better than yours.”

 “Only if you’re actually using it properly and not smelling meat like last time,” he whispered back, trying to keep his voice down. “You’re a rabbit, how does that work?”

 Alice snorted. “Meat is king.”

 Gil stared at her. She’d said that with utter confidence, as though those three words explained everything. In fact, she’d been so matter-of-factly about it that for a minute, he’d doubted himself. That maybe he was the one ignorant to the ways of the world.

 On his right, Oz snickered as he drew his sword. The metal looked dull in the dim light. “She got you there.”

 That was enough to snap him out of it. “That doesn’t explain anything!”

 “It explains everything,” she retorted, hands on her hips, her quarry all but forgotten. “What more do you need?”

 Gil knew he ought to be the bigger person. They had a guild mission, after all, and that came before any petty differences between them. If Alice wanted to act like a child, like she often did, he shouldn’t stoop to her level. No, he should finish securing the pixie they’d been hunting for days, saving a village from its mischief, ensuring that his standing in the ranks didn’t—

 “If your head wasn’t made of seaweed, you’d understand,” she added with a presumptuous sniff.

 Gil forced his lips into a tight smile, resisting the urge to react. There’s no point in arguing with her, he reminded himself. Be the adult.

 “Where is the pixie?” he asked through gritted teeth. The sooner they finished with this, the sooner they’d go back.

 “Over there,” Oz replied, whistling softly as he peeked through the brush. “I think he’s asleep.”

 “That’s good.” Gil brightened at this one speck of good news. “Is there anyone—”

 Before he looked, before he even finished his sentence, Oz pointed at the pixie. “Alice, go!”

 Without hesitation, Alice ran forward, transforming into a giant rabbit as she did. There was a large scythe in her hands now, pulled out from whatever pocket dimension she’d left it in. “Just stay there and watch,” she ordered before disappearing into the foliage.

 Gil’s jaw dropped. “Oz!”

 “Come on, Gil!” Oz grabbed his hand, smiling innocently. Almost all of their misadventures had started with that smile.  “We can’t let her have all the fun!”

 “Why do you always do this?” Gil hissed, not sure how he’d force them to understand this one, common sense idea. “We should have to plan first!”

 He followed anyways—he’d never been able to say no to Oz, and he doubted he’d ever will. They were almost the same height, with Oz slightly shorter despite all of the milk he drank. There was something comforting about the back of his head, of that golden hair, and maybe it was that for all of the trouble they’d gotten into over the years, they’d always ended up fine at the end of it. Oz was strangely reliable.

 “It’s just a pixie,” Oz scoffed, trotting quickly after Alice. “She’s going to catch it before we get there.”

 In hindsight, those were famous last words. As soon as they made it past a particularly thick tree, pushing through the branches to reach a small clearing, they found Alice in the center. She slammed down her scythe at a pixie that was almost half her size. The creature had iridescent wings that fluttered quickly as he dodged her attack.

 “That’s a big pixie,” Oz muttered. He held his sword loosely. “I don’t think the cage we got is big enough for him.”

 “Me neither…” Gil frowned, pulling out his gun and several enchanted bullets. “Maybe we can knock him out.”

 Alice struck again, her scythe almost cleaving the creature in two. Which would have solved the transportation issue but luckily the pixie parried her attack. It almost knocked her off balance and she flipped backwards to stabilize herself. Legs tense, she prepared to strike again when the pixie shot her with a green bolt of magic.

 Smoke filled the air and Gil’s eyes widened as she disappeared. “Alice!”

 “Alice!” Oz yelled as he charged through the smoke to get to her.

 “I’m fine.” Alice coughed, still hidden by the smoke.

 The pixie cackled and Gil cocked his gun, looking for their enemy. It was time they took this battle seriously. Trees lined their small clearing, leaving many places to hide if the pixie headed for the shadows. Craning his head left and right, he couldn’t find their target.

 The smoke drifted past him slowly, dissipating as the gentle wind blew, and Gil glanced at where he’d last seen Alice. As the air cleared, he couldn’t find a big, stocky humanoid rabbit.

 Instead, he saw a small, child-sized rabbit. While it was dressed in Alice’s clothes, they were far too big for the rabbit, and they hung off it loosely.

 Oz stood in front of the rabbit, his lips parted in surprise. “Alice?”

 The rabbit’s ears twitched, and she looked up at him. “Why are you so big?”

 “Did he shrink you?” Gil asked, wishing he had his brother’s skills in magic identification.

 “Shrink?” Alice stood stock still, looking from Oz to Gil to the trees. If she didn’t have black fur, he was certain she’d be pale as a ghost. She tried to pick up her now too-heavy scythe, the handle oversized in her hands, before dropping it in horror. “WHAT HAPPENED?”

 “Oh wow!” Oz crouched in front of her, recovering from his shock entirely. Reaching forward, he rubbed her ears. “You’re so cute now!”

 “I’m not cute, I’m terrifying,” Alice retorted, growling slightly. She didn’t pull away from his touch though and Gil stored that info away to taunt her with later.

 “Of course you are,” Oz cooed.

 From the corner of his eyes, Gil saw something move. He spun on his heel, gun raised, finger on the trigger. There was the pixie, hovering in the air, another green bolt in his fingers.

 “Watch out!” Gil shouted, already squeezing the trigger.

 BANG! A bullet pierced through the air. As it reached the pixie, it transformed into a net, entangling the prankster.

 Jerking back in surprise, the pixie released its bolt. The green energy arced through the air before hitting Oz square in the back. Another burst of smoke filled the area.

 “Oz!” Gil shouted, racing forward to knock out the pixie before he could do anymore damage.

 “Wow, that tickled,” Oz replied, coughing slightly. After a moment, he swore. “Shit.”

 Oz rarely swore openly, and Gil swallowed as he turned to where his best friend stood. The air had cleared now, leaving behind a blonde child. His cloak hung loosely on his frame, almost slipping off his shoulders. His sword, now too heavy for him, fell out of his hands with a clatter.

 “You’re a kid,” Gil stated, realization dawning.

 Alice transformed back into her human form, confirming his fears: she looked like a kid too. With a smug smirk, she wrapped an arm around Oz, ignoring how her clothes almost fell off her. “Ha, who’s the cute one now?”

 -x-

 Gil groaned as he leaned against the hard wall of the crevice they were hiding in. No matter how many times he thought about how they ended up in this situation, it felt ridiculous.

 “I think we’re safe now,” Oz whispered, poking his head out of their hole. Gil almost jerked him in reflexively. In the bright afternoon light, Oz was hard to miss.

 “I can’t smell him anymore,” Alice muttered, sulking as she crouched in the back of the small cave. With a stick, she drew pictures of pork chops and ham on the dirt ground.

 “Good.” Gil sighed, relaxing against the wall. He wanted nothing more than a hot bath but settled for sitting on the ground. These days, he felt more babysitter than adventurer. His nerves couldn’t take much more of this. “Next time I say run, run.”

 Oz pouted. “I still think we could have taken it,” he muttered.

 Gil gave him a tired look. “Oz.”

 “But that’s not why we’re here,” Oz admitted, which was as close to an apology as he’d get. Crouching in front of Gil, he reached up to ruffle his hair. “Good job!”

 “I’m not the stupid rabbit,” Gil muttered, looking away. Yet he didn’t pull away and maybe that was something he and Alice had in common.

 Unfortunately.

 Oz chuckled, letting go and stepping back. “Alright, let’s finish our mission! I want to be tall again! I want to bully Gil properly again!”

 “Don’t bully me,” Gil grumbled half-heartedly, trying not to smile.

 “I want meat!” Alice chimed in. Gil wasn’t sure if she hadn’t followed the conversation or if she just didn’t care about it.

 Oz looked at him expectedly and Gil sighed. Standing up now, he shoved his hands in his pockets. “I want to stop worrying about you two.”

 “Oh, Gil.” Oz chuckled, though he looked touched. Standing up, he beamed at him, no malice in his voice. “You’ll always worry about us.”

 The truth in his words cut deep and Gil flushed. Coughing into his hand, he looked away. “I want to worry about you less.”

 Oz bumped into him lightly and nodded. “Alright, then we just have to find those berries, right?”

 “Yeah, Break said you just had to eat them and you should turn back to normal…” Gil trailed off. As reliable as his mentor was, he was also the kind of liar who’d take advantage of the situation to play a prank or run an experiment. There was a reason he and Oz got along; they were far too alike and Gil wished he could have stopped them from meeting. “It’ll work, right?”

 Alice growled at Break’s name and looked around quickly. Suspiciously, she lifted a rock, squinting at the dirt beneath it. “He’s not here?”

 “Of course not, or we’d have just fought that boar,” Gil scoffed, rolling his eyes. This whole mission would have gone better if they’d just brought one other person. How he ever let Oz talk him into coming here without backup, Gil couldn’t explain.

 “Nothing to it then.” Oz stretched his arms above his head, looking oddly refreshed. “We’ll just have to get those berries. They’re at the top of the mountain, right?”

 As usual, Alice thought with her stomach. “I hope they’re yummy.”

 “Maybe we should take a couple extra with us,” Oz suggested, rubbing his chin. He scowled. “I can’t believe the pixie couldn’t just turn us back.”

 Gil slouched over slightly. “I should have caught him sooner.”

 “And I probably should have listened to you earlier.” Oz reached up to pat him on the back. “Still, it’s kinda fun pretending to be my own love-child.”

 That was the first Gil heard about it. Aghast, he stared down at his friend. “Your what?”

 “Sec-ret love child,” Oz repeated slowly. Chuckling, he walked over to Alice and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “By the way, I told all the maids that she’s yours.”

 “Mine?” Gil screeched, forgetting all about the boar, the berries, or even the need to hide. He almost fell backwards and leaned against the wall for support.

 Alice grabbed Oz’s collar. “I’m what?”

 “The maids think it’s cute?” Oz weakly warbled, realizing a little too late that maybe he shouldn’t have admitted this in a cave in the middle of nowhere.

 They should start making their way up the mountain. They should be quiet. They should conserve their strength.

 Gil stepped out of the cave for a breath of fresh air, ignoring the ruckus behind him. Oz could wait a few minutes before getting saved.

 -x-

 Hilariously, by the time they reached top of the mountain, Oz’s worst injuries were still from the cave. The rest of the trip had been as eventful as their first few minutes in the forest—as weak as Oz and Alice were now, their only options were to run and hide from monsters.

 Unfortunately, on this mountain this meant a lot of running and hiding. Gil’s arms were sore from dragging Alice away; she honestly thought she could take on every beast they met and Gil didn’t have nearly enough healing magic to prove her wrong.

 As they reached a plateau on the top, a large field filled with wildflowers, Gil was too exhausted to do anything more than just collapse. He stared up at the night sky, surprised. The afternoon felt like it had only been minutes ago, and yet there the stars were, twinkling above. “Is this it?”

 “I hope so.” A worn Oz lay down on the long grasses next to him, sounding as ragged as Gil felt. For all of his adventuring, his stamina had always been terrible. “We just need to find the berries now, right?”

 “And then make it back down.” Gil covered his eyes with the back of his hand and took a deep breath. A sickly-sweet scent filled his lungs and he coughed. “That’s strong.”

 “It’s disgusting.” Next to him, Oz wrinkled his nose. Despite his affection for sweets, he didn’t like the cloying scent either. “What are these flowers?”

 “Not sure.” Gil looked to his right, at the flower brushing his cheek. It had a dark lilac colour, barely visible in the moonlight. Neon blue spots dotted the petals, giving the plant an eerie look. Something about it tickled his memory as he slowly sat up. “Where have I seen that before?”

 “A book?” Oz guessed flippantly. Lifting his head, he scanned their surroundings. “Where’s Alice?”

 “Hmm?” Still focused on the flower, he glanced around haphazardly. The field was penned with trees, though they were so far out he couldn’t make out their individual shapes. “Maybe in the forest? Or by the bushes?”

 “Alice?” Oz called out, scrambling to his feet despite his aching limbs. There wasn’t a response, just the wind through the trees, and he yelled again, “ALICE!”

 This time, a small voice called out. Gil couldn’t make out the words. To their left, a small figure dashed toward them, growing bigger until he could make out Alice’s bright grin. “Oz!”

 “There you are!” Oz relaxed. Clasping his hands behind him, he acted as though he hadn’t been worried seconds ago. “Where’d you go?”

 “To the berries of course.” Alice snorted, holding out her right hand to reveal a small pile of the very berries they were looking for. “Unlike you lazy bones, I can get the job done.”

 For once, Gil was too tired to argue. He merely plucked on, inspecting it. It was a bright yellow, like the sun, and the leaves had an oval-like shape outlined with prickly points. All in all, it looked just like the ones Break had shown him before. Begrudgingly, he praised her. “Good job.”

 Alice lit up. “It was a good job, right?”

 She beamed happily at him before leaning forward expectantly. Gil sighed and reached out, patting her head. “That’s what I said.”

 She bounced on her feet before she stood up straight once more. “Now we can get big again!”

 Oz gingerly took one berry from her hand, eyeing it thoughtfully. “These are the right ones, right?”

 “Gil just said they were,” Alice pouted, her cheeks puffing up like a chipmunk.

 “If I die, I’m haunting you,” Oz muttered before swallowing the berry. He scowled. “That’s even sweeter.”

 “It’s like honey,” Alice added, utterly enamoured. She ate another one before Gil could stop her.

 “Hey, wait!” Gil snatched the rest of the berries out of her hand. A few were crushed between his fingers, their delicious juices dripping down his fingers. His raised his hand out of her reach. “You don’t know what eating more could do to you.”

 “But it tastes so good,” Alice grumbled, jumping up to grab the sweet treat. When it was obvious that she couldn’t reach, she stomped on his foot.

 “Ouch!” Gil glared at her, stepping back. “You stupid rabbit—”

 “Seaweed head—” Alice growled back.

 “Nothing’s happening,” Oz interrupted smoothly, frowning. He looked at his hands. “I’m not getting taller.” He paused. “Or older.”

 “Why in that order—” Gil shook his head, focusing on the actual issue. He glanced at Alice, who still couldn’t reach his chest, let alone his shoulders. “Alice isn’t either.”

 “That’s strange…” Oz sat down once more, plucking a flower and twirling it between his fingers. “Maybe it takes time?”

 “Or maybe you have to sleep…” Gil trailed off, realization dawning. Crouching, he inspected the flowers once more before covering his mouth. “Cover your mouths!”

 It was too late. He heard a soft thud, followed by another, and he found both Alice and Oz passed out. His own vision was going dark and he silently swore before collapsing as well.

 -x-

 “They’re so cute,” Lacie cooed, tucking a lock behind her ear as she stared down at her daughter and her friends. The trio were curled up together, instinctively seeking each other even when unconscious. “I need a picture.”

 “Lacie,” Oswald murmured, giving her a baleful look as he crouched next to Alice. They were breathing at least. “We need to take them back.”

 “Do we?” Lacie sighed, pouting slightly as she knelt next to Oz. Her puffy dress spread around her like a mushroom. She gently pushed his hair out of his face. “They look so peaceful.”

 Break poked Gil’s cheeks, chuckling. It was obvious they were master and apprentice; their uniforms were far too similar to claim otherwise. “They do. We should draw on their faces.”

 That stopped Oswald and he looked at Break, his expression blank. “What?”

 “It’ll be fun!” Break chuckled, glancing at the field around them. In the day, the flowers were closed, the air crisp and clean. “It’ll be a punishment for not bringing us with them. And for entering this field at night. They should have known better.”

 “Yep.” Lacie nodded sagely, already pulling out a marker from her purse. “These flowers’ scents are like a sleeping spell. They should have remembered.”

 “None of them paid attention to my lessons.” Break raised a sleeve and wiped an imaginary tear.

 “Or my training.” Lacie hunched forward, sighing sadly.

 Already hoisting Alice in his arms, Oswald looked back and forth between the pair. They both looked at him with watery eyes and he flinched.  “I guess…”

 And just like that, they both grinned, pulling out markers from who-knows-where. “Great!” Lacie chirped, drawing a spiral on Oz’s cheek.

 “He’ll never forget,” Break chimed in, giving Gilbert glasses and a mustache.

 Oswald held Alice tighter. Maybe he should just save her and run.

[darth-salem-emperor-of-earth]

Well, well, would you look at that? I somehow started this today and managed to complete this oneshot in a day too. Must have been really motivated for this story or at least, to get this prompt finished for the @naruto-fantasy-week event that’s still taking place until the 21st. I have feelings I’d like to dive more into the plot and world I created for this fic because there’s a lot of story ideas brimming with possibilities. :D

Title derives from the lyrics of “Bedroom Hymns” by Florence+the Machine.

There’s a tiny bit of gore from battle mentioned in the beginning of the fic but it’s not explicit. 

Summary: When the lesser gods and power-hungry mortals slew several of the Old Gods to gain their strength, the world erupted into chaos and many of the surviving Old Gods went into hiding. The world did not fare better with the newer gods and soon enough, Godkillers were either born or shaped to give humanity a fighting chance. Who would have expected an experienced, antisocial Godkiller was bored enough to escort and protect an young Old God from those who’d either kill or use her to steal and harness her powers? Naruto Fantasy Week, Day 3. Prompt: Old Gods. [Sasori x Sakura] 

Text: 

Thoughts  

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

“Take one step towards the gods and they will take ten steps towards you.”

— Joseph Campbell, Mythologist

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

Sinking his blade deep into the enemy before him, Sasori gave the weapon one final twist, feeling the man’s flesh stretch and rend even wider and deeper before he abruptly and forcefully yanked out the sword out, blood squirting out of the gaping wound and splashing across his gloves, arms, and face. The man clutched his open gash, uttering nothing save for a few gurgles, and topped over, face first, and a pool of fresh blood soon formed around him. 

That’s the last of them.

Wiping the scarlet droplets from his scimitar on the corpse’s tunic, Sasori turned around to look for his employer who chased after several archers who concealed themselves in a brush up on a small hill. She was the one who charged him to help her to escort her to the Pearl Sea, where there supposedly was a ship waiting for her to take her to the fabled ‘Himmelsreiche’ , home of the Old Gods. Or what was left of them. 

Sakura was his employer’s name, her brilliant pink hair most likely the contributor to her name. Weeks ago, she approached him with a job, an easy one that consisted of a simple escort mission to bring her to the banks of Pearl Sea and deal with any miscreants who wished her harm. While she didn’t delve more into detail why she might be beset by people who were more than run-of-the-mill brigands, Sasori didn’t need to press the matter. He knew exactly who she was. An Old God, or at least, the surviving offspring of them. His eyes, a mere brown hue, had the gift to see the aura of other beings, human or no, and the auras of gods, Old or lesser, were far more luminescence and stronger than mere humans. Sakura’s aura was red, the same color his vibrant hair, and her essence brimmed with untold, untapped power. 

He wondered why she, an Old God, went to him, an infamous Godkiller who never bothered with slaying the Old Gods, for assistance. He had a few theories. On the run from other Godkillers who were either overzealous in their mission to eradicate all gods, be it lesser or the original ones, or they simply desired to use a god’s power for their own devices. Or there was the lesser gods, who were caught between vanquishing the rest of the gold gods, whom they resented for being in power and adored by the masses for so long, and the humans who eventually declared their unearthly rule corrupt and tyrannical and trained many of their own become Godkillers for the express purpose of hunting all the lesser gods down and putting them to justice. A young Old God like Sakura would be just the power boost they need in order to maintain their malign reign over the human population.  

But he didn’t care about her story so Sasori never asked. So he took her payment and off they travelled, gaining as much ground as they could in the daylight and when night blanketed the sky with twinkling stars, an illuminating moon, and a sky containing a dark velvet blue hue, they either sought shelter in taverns or camped outside. However, despite their meticulous measures to remain careful and conceal their presence from others, Sakura’s aura was like a beacon to those who wished her harm or to cage her so she’d be easier to subdue and channel her godly powers for their own purpose, for good or ill. Sasori already lost track of how many rival Godkillers (if you could hardly call a couple of green, stupid boys with dreams of glory and a beautiful death, or uppity, sanctimonious men and woman who could fight but never experienced true battle with an experienced, seasoned Godkiller and an Old God was still young but no less dangerous) or lackeys of lesser gods he slew without remorse or hesitation.

Sakura surprised him with her fighting prowess and willingness to hold her own in a battle, having rapid reflexes to swiftly switch from being defensive to taking the offensive. Not all the gods were warriors and despite her appearance radiating almost soft or unsuspecting charm, he learned from their very first battle that she had the strength to produce earthquakes by merely stomping or punching down on the ground long enough to create such colossal damages. She was skilled enough to keep up with him in spars or actual combat and much to his annoyance, saved his life a couple of times, either due to her superhuman strength, the ability to manipulate the earth to her will, or from her uncanny ability to heal almost injury, even if poison was embedded in the muscle or already entered the victim’s bloodstreams. 

One day he’ll create a poison not even she, an Old God, could heal.

“The archers won’t trouble us anymore,” Sakura announced grimly, sweat glistening off her wide brow. “There was also a scout observing our movements so I had to take care of him as well. Like the archers, he’s buried six feet under.”

Sasori smirked, recalling the distant screams he heard earlier when he effortlessly sliced off  one of the attacker’s head before whirling around to deliver two deep, perfect crisscrossing slashes across the soldier sneaking up behind him. Those horrific yells nearby provoked him to press on, to finish every single last bastard the lesser god Danzo continued to sic on them, time after time. Out of all the lesser gods that issued their own soldiers and trusted allies to hunt down Sakura and capture her, Danzo was the most persistent. He was also the god Sakura loathed the most.

“Efficient. None of them will be able to run back to their master and report about how your powers are growing.” Sasori remarked casually, sheathing his scimitar. He bent over to check the dead men’s belongings for anything of value and managed to uncover several pouches of gold. Sakura turned over two similar small bags of coins as well as a crinkled scroll, the golden seal broken.

“I found this message on the scout before I killed him. It seems both Danzo and Hanzo have joined together for an alliance. And placed an enormous bounty on your head.” 

Sasori frowned, thoroughly irked at the notion of eventually having to also deal with avarice or foolish bounty hunters hounding their every waking step in hopes to take down an actual Godkiller. “It sounds like we’ll have to double our pace if we want to make it harder for the two of them to trace us. We should leave this place as soon as possible.”

Sakura nodded her head in agreement. “Just let me bury the bodies first.” Palms facing down, Sakura’s emerald gaze was focused on the ground beneath their feet. Instinctively, Sasori took a step behind her and let her carry on with her work. The earth shifted and pulled itself apart from Sakura’s command, cracks forming into huge, gaping chasms to swallow the five carcasses as well as wiping away any remnants of Sasori’s gruesome battle. Then, the massive holes in the ground smoothly patched themselves up, the earth advancing upward to straighten the land up until soil,rocks, and grass soon littered the area once more. There was not even a speck of blood to hint what just transpired here over ten minutes ago.

“Are you hurt, Sasori?” Sakura queried once she was finished. 

He dismissed her concern by turning away and untied the reins of their horses, doing his utmost best to ignore the irritated, unhappy stare she was no doubt sending him. “I’m fine. None of them landed a hit on me.”

“You’re wrong.” Just like that, Sakura was at his side, gripping his arm and pushing the sleeve back, revealing jagged gash no longer than a mouse’s tail. “What do you call that?”

“A scratch. Now, get on the horse so we can resume our travels.” 

Ire flashed in Sakura’s eyes, spreading to her visage as her lips twisted into a scowl. “What that is a possible infection. Let me heal you–and that cut on your cheek.”

Disagreeing with her when it came to healing was futile but Sasori continued to protest, although the scolding died in his throat soon after as one of Sakura’s hands rest over the slash on his forearm, a warm, soothing sage green glow flowing from her fingers and palm, almost creating a small dome that isolated his wound before simultaneously disinfecting it and knitting his skin back together. And then almost immediately, the very same hand cupped his cheek, right where the supposed cut was located and the welcoming verdant light returned, bathing Sasori in warmth once more. 

Yet it wasn’t the tranquil sensation of Sakura’s curative abilities that caused Sasori’s blood to boil and transform in fire, or delivered tingling, shooting frissions up and down his spine and other areas of his body (which was damn well infuriating), or had every beat of his heart speed up in a rapid crescendo. When he took the escort job, Sasori imagined it was a simple ‘point A to point B’ mission with a little bit of carnage thrown in. The mere prospect of experiencing even a modicum of romantic feelings for his employer would be absolutely ludicrous. And yet here he was, unable to tear his gaze away from Sakura’s concentrated but thoughtful expression, her eyes darting between his healing cut and being caught in his heated stare, if her blushing cheeks were anything to go by.

What seemed like ages, Sakura finally removed her hand from his cheek but there was an air of reluctance as she did so. “Please, be more careful, Sasori. You have already gotten yourself injured several times on my behalf and if any of your wounds became mortal, I wouldn’t be able to heal you.” She glanced away, some locks of her light rose colored hair obscuring her face from him. “I don’t know how I’d react if you were truly gone from this world.”

Cocking his head, Sasori reached out to grasp her chin and pull her head back to face him so their knowing gazes would collide once more and at last, come to terms with the all tension and emotions brimming between them. How long have they ignored the fact there was a spark, a flare of attraction blossoming between them? Far too long, their bodies and hearts would say. 

Sasori dipped his head in, saying nothing. His eyes would do all the talking.

In response, Sakura leaned forward, her hands gripping his black cloak for support even as his other arm wrapped itself around her waist. Their noses bumped into each other, awkward and soft. Yet Sakura merely smiled and closed her eyes just as Sasori tilted his head to plant his mouth over that subtle dimple on her check, right before trailing over to claim a kiss from her beckoning lips.

By the time they were back on their horses and riding to the next town, both of their mouths were kiss swollen, Sakura’s neck was already sporting a vivid bite mark red as a peony, and Sasori’s chest was aching from the scratches Sakura left behind when she snaked one of her hands underneath his cloak and shirt to give him a taste of her teasing nature. Sakura was practically glowing at the new development of their relationship while Sasori kept his focus on the horizon, towards the direction of the Pearl Sea, all the while unconsciously brushing his thumb over his bottom lip, recalling the moment where Sakura first nibbled, then sucked on that particular spot during their second to last kiss. 

They were going to check into the first inn he saw and once they were settled in, he was going to give Sakura a matching bite mark on the other side of her neck. After all, in the age of gods, waning or no, paying tribute to the god of your choice was necessary to receive any blessings in return. And Sasori recognized quite quickly how much he enjoyed Sakura’s blessings. She was his god and he was her guardian, the protector of her temple. And no Godkiller or lesser god, regardless of their strength or reach, would tear them asunder.    

[eyebeastposts]

Whitney’s Miltank Training

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WARNING THIS STORY CONTAINS: Female Miltank TF, Weight Gain, and Lactation

An ordinary day at the Goldenrod City gym is disturbed when a strange trainer arrives to challenge Whitney to a battle and show her a new way of bonding with her Pokemon.

  Spurred by an uneventful day with a lack of challengers, Whitney busied herself with her duties as leader of the Goldenrod City gym. Walking the halls of her gym to check in on her trainers and their Pokémon, Whitney looked as outstanding as ever with her pink hair tied into a pair of ponytails. Her white shirt with pink stripes and blue short shorts were a staple of her wardrobe, conveying the comfort she felt as she traversed the place she called home.

  Reaching the gym’s main challenge room, Whitney pulled out one of her Pokeballs. Softly tossing the ball into the air released the creature inside. Stomping her hooves into the ground, Miltank announced her arrival with a cheerful cry. Swinging about the orb on her tail and the four teats on her belly, she turned towards her trainer. Embracing her Miltank with open arms, Whitney gave her a gentle pat on the head and let her fingers run along the black and pink bovine Pokémon’s nubby horns and flat ears.

  “How are you feeling today?” Whitney asked.

  “Mil-mil,” Miltank replied, a smile upon her face as she nuzzled her black nose against Whitney’s chest.

  “That’s great to hear. Since it doesn’t look like we have any challengers today, I can take all the time we want to spend together. You’re overdo for a good grooming, plus I want to try out some new battle strategies with you. Not to mention, it’s been a while since you were last milked.“

  “Whitney!”

  A gym trainer by the name of Victoria came bursting through the door. Like many of the other beauties of the gym, she had silky, blonde hair and wore a white tank top alongside a pair of black short shorts. Her usually calm demeanor was absent as she sprinted towards the bewildered leader. “A trainer just showed up,” she said, leaning against the wall to catch her breath.

  “That’s not out of the ordinary. Why did you come running all the way here?”

  “He’s not like the others,” Victoria replied. “There’s something about him that just seems off. I think he’s here for more than just a badge. That and he’s reaaaaaaly creepy.”

  “That’s a pretty rude thing to say.”

  Whitney and Victoria turned their heads towards the door to see that the voice came from a hooded figure. A grey cloak shrouded his form, with a belt of strange, black and white Pokeballs hooked around his waist. Shuffling up to the cautious girls, the figure threw back his hood to reveal a young male trainer with buzz cut, black hair and an eye painted across his forehead. Putting his hands together, he made a small bow towards Whitney.

  “I am sorry for the intrusion Ms. Whitney,” he said. “My name is Oko. You are taking challengers today, correct?”

  “Yes I am,” Whitney said, standing up straight to present herself as a gym leader. “I’d be more than happy to accept your challenge. So how many badges do you have?”

  “None.”

  “Oh so you must be a new trainer. I’m honored to be your first gym challenge.”

  “No, no, no, you’re far from my first. I’ve conquered many gym leaders already. I just haven’t taken any badges.”

  Whitney raised her eyebrow as she looked at Oko’s seemingly benign smile. “If you’re not going after badges, then why are you here?”

  “I am a self-proclaimed Pokémon trainer coach for lack of a better term. I go around to various gyms and test their leaders to see if they are worthy of their title. If they fail my challenge, I give them a chance to improve themselves through my special form of training.”

  “What are you trying to say about Whitney?” Victoria asked, stepping forward to protect her leader.

  “It’s alright,” Whitney said, holding up her hand to keep the defensive beauty back. “If what you say is true, then you want to challenge me, not for a badge, but to see if I’m good enough to be a gym leader?”

  “Precisely,” Oko replied, putting his hands together. “We’ll do a one-on-one Pokémon battle. If I win, I’ll put you through a short training session to improve your skills as a trainer by letting you grow closer with your Pokémon.”

  With a confident smile, Whitney placed her hand on top of her Miltank’s head. “Sorry to break it to you, but Miltank and I are nearly unstoppable.”

  “Mil-mil!” Miltank added.

  Oko’s smile grew into a sinister grin. “We will see. Shall we begin?”

  “Whenever you’re ready. Victoria, would you mind being the judge?”

  “Okay, but…are you sure about this Whitney?” Victoria asked, side eyeing Oko as he strolled over to the opposite side of the gym.

  “Don’t be so worried about it,” Whitney replied, stretching out her arms to loosen up for the battle. “He might be a little weird, but he sounds like he has good intentions. Besides, it’s not like as a gym leader I can refuse his challenge. It’ll be fine.”

  “If you say so,” Victoria begrudgingly replied, taking her place at the judge’s spot. “Trainers, call out your first Pokémon.”

  “You know who I’m picking,” Whitney said, her Miltank taking her spot on the field.

  “Excellent, I was hoping you’d pick that one,” Oko said, plucking up one of the Pokeballs from his belt. “I have just the opponent for you.”

  With a flick of his wrist, Oko tossed out his Pokémon. A Dusclops appeared from the flash of red light. Clenching its white fists, it turned its stout, grey body towards Whitney. The gym leader’s confidant attitude wavered under the ghostly Pokémon’s gaze, her feeling of uneasiness increasing as she beheld its pure black iris. Shaking her head back and forth to try and compose herself, Whitney stared down Dusclops, ready for whatever it and its strange trainer could throw at her.

  “Trainers, on your marks,” Victoria said, holding up her hands to signal Whitney and Oko. “Begin!”

  “Dusclops, use Brick Break,” Oko called out.

  With a nod of its head, Dusclops ran towards Miltank with its fists ready to strike.

  “I applaud you on your choice, but it takes more than type advantage to win a Pokémon battle,” Whitney replied, Dusclops mere inches from her Miltank. “Miltank, show him what you can do!”

  Miltank made an affirmative grunt as she side stepped the Dusclops’s fists. Leaping out of the ghost Pokémon’s attack, Miltank stomped her feet into the ground and let out a triumphant cry to try and intimidate the ghost Pokémon. Dusclops merely turned towards it, its black eye unblinking as it stared down Miltank.

  “Our turn now,” Whitney shouted out to help ease her Miltank’s nerves. “Show him the best we have. Use Rollout!”

  “Mil, Miltank!” Miltank confirmed, as she began running towards Dusclops. The bovine Pokémon fell forward as if it tripped, only to go spinning into a ball of pink and black. Whirling across the floor, it sped towards Dusclops with ever increasing speed. The rolling Miltank barely missed Dusclops, grazing the knuckles of its fist.

  “You…do know you’re supposed to hit the target right?” Oko asked, more out of concern then teasing.

  “Doesn’t have to be the first hit,” Whitney confidently replied. “The more Miltank rolls, the faster she becomes. You might be able to dodge for a little while, but eventually she’s going to hit her mark.”

  “An interesting strategy,” he commented, scratching his chin. “Let’s see how it works in practice.”

  Miltank continued to roll along the floor, picking up speed with each passing second. Despite its stone faced expression, Dusclops could only stand there and dodge each of the attacks. Though it tried to throw in a punch here and there, the damage it inflicted was minimal. As Miltank got closer to hitting her target, she caught glancing blows on the ghost Pokémon to slowly whittle down its stamina. Bruised and battered, Dusclops dropped to its knees. Unable to do much as Miltank reached max speed, it seemed like the fight had already been decided.

  “Sorry to end it so quickly,” Whitney began, already baring a victorious smile, “but I didn’t intend to hold back. Miltank, finish it off with one last Rollout!”

  Miltank sped towards Dusclops at breakneck speed. Seemingly accepting the inevitable, Dusclops stood perfectly still as the pink cow rolled ever closer. Making contact with Dusclops, Miltank pushed it across the room to slam into the wall. Whitney considered the sizable dent Miltank created a small price to pay for an overwhelming victory.

  “Dusclops, use Revenge!”

  Oko’s words turned Whitney’s triumph into dread. Turning towards the impact crater, she watched as Dusclops slowly raised up its hands. Before she could call out for her stationary Miltank to get out of the way, Dusclops sent its fists slamming down on her back. The impact created a crater twice the size of the hole in the wall. Running over to ground zero, Whitney peeked her head over the side of the hole to see her Miltank knocked out.

  “The winner is…Oko!” Victoria announced, holding up a shaky hand towards Oko.

  “I must say, it was an impressive display of strength,” Oko said, returning Dusclops to its ball and depositing him back on his belt. “However, you must always be aware of your opponent’s possibilities. Especially when they do something so odd as letting their Pokémon get hit so many times.”

  “Alright, you’ve made your point,” Whitney said, wiping away the tears forming around her eyes. Taking a moment to collect herself, she held out a Pokeball and returned Miltank to safety. “Let me get a chance to get Miltank healed up and we’ll start training as soon as possible.”

  “Oh, you won’t need her,” Oko said. “She can take a well-deserved rest while you go through the training.”

  The sting of a painful loss was overcome by the look of pure bewilderment on Whitney’s face. “How am I supposed to get better as a trainer if I don’t work with my Pokémon?”

  “By getting more in touch with your Miltank of course,” Oko said with a smile.

  “And I’m supposed to do that without her…how exactly?’

  “Well you see we just…ah, it’ll be easier just to show you.”

  Digging into his pocket, Oko held up a black Pokeball similar to the ones around his waist. The main difference was a large black eye in the center that seemed to stare right into Whitney’s soul. Mesmerized by the Pokeball’s gaze, she failed to notice Oko point the ball at her. Pressing the button on the side, Oko let loose a bolt of white energy from the ball that shot straight out at Whitney.

  Whitney crumpled to the floor as the bright light encompassed her. For a few moments, Whitney’s mind was a mush of feelings and sensations, simultaneously pleasurable and revolting. Watching her leader twitch on the ground, Victoria was paralyzed in fear of what to do while Oko continued to bathe her in the mysterious light. Just as quickly as the light came out, a quick click of the button was enough to shut off the beam and end Whitney’s spasms.

  “W-what did you just do to me?” Whitney asked, standing up on her wobbling legs.

  “You’ll see in a moment,” Oko said, keeping his eyes trained on her.

  “You won’t have a moment,” she said, trying her best to form her shaky hand into a fist. “Tell me what you’ve done to me or else I’ll MILLLLL!”

  Whitney clamped her hands around her mouth as she heard the familiar cry of her Miltank. Daring to open her mouth again, she tried to speak just to hear the same sound pass out of her lips. Letting out a few distressed cries towards Victoria for help let it sink in that her ability to speak had been replaced with the husky voice of her beloved Pokémon. At a loss for human words, she turned her attention to a pleased looking Oko.

  Whitney took a step towards Oko only to stop as she heard something begin to rip. Looking down, she watched her flat stomach begin to balloon out into a spherical potbelly. Breaking the seams of her shirt allowed her developing gut to freely hang between her legs. The rounded orb of fat turned a light cream color with four strange pink dots forming a square pattern in the center.

  Reaching down to try and push back in her bulging belly, Whitney let out a distressed moo as she glanced at her own fingers. Lifting her hands up to her face, she saw that her fingers had morphed together and hardened into three, hoof-like digits. Fumbling with her bovine fingers, she lifted up her swollen belly to see her feet had burst out of her shoes to show off their cloven hoof appearance.

  Letting her belly slam back down, she heard another tearing noise. Looking over her shoulder, she watched her shorts give way to the bright pink blubber being padded onto her rear. The fabric finally gave out as her butt grew as wide as her barrel-sized belly. Without anything in its way, a long tail grew out from above her rear and extended several feet. The tail hung just a few inches off the ground, leaving the black ball at the end to brush against the floor.

  “Miltaaank?” Whitney cried out to Oko, shuddering as more pink fat was packed onto the rest of her body to even out her hefty form.

  “Don’t worry, you’re nearly complete,” he replied.

  Waddling her widened hips towards the strange trainer, Whitney had to stop as she felt something emerge from atop her head. Grazing her hooves along her hair, she felt a set of nubby horns peeking through the pink strands. Moving her hooves away, she brushed up against her ears, feeling how they had flattened out to better match her other Miltank characteristics. Sliding her hooves off her flickering ears, her eyes focused on her nose turning pitch black as her lower face extended into a Miltank muzzle.

  “Change her back now!” Victoria demanded, as Whitney clutched her chubby face in shock of what she had become.

  “Why stop now?” Oko asked back, not even bothering to glance at Victoria. “She has nearly completed her transformation.”

  “She already looks like someone stuffed a Miltank into an under-sized t-shirt. What else is there?”

  A grin formed on Oko’s face. “The most prominent feature of a Miltank of course. You should know that outside of battle, Miltank are famous for producing quite the commodity.”

  Amidst Whitney’s constant mooing came the sound of what remained of her outfit being torn apart. The last few seams of her top gave way as her modest chest began to swell. Pressing her hooves into her growing mammaries, her digits flicked across her plumped up nipples. The sensations sent a shiver down her spine, a momentary feeling of pleasure overcoming her fear. Breasts reaching the size of ripe watermelons, she peeked past them to discover they weren’t the only things changing.

  The four dots along her stomach grew into long protrusions that matched the width and length of her nipples. Reaching down to her developing udder, all it took was a slight touch from her hooves to send the same feeling of euphoria through her body. As her nipples and teats became as long and thick as overstuffed sausages, white liquid could be seem forming at their tips. Continuously pressing her hooves against her tits and udder brought forth steady droplets of milk that splashed against the gym floor.

  “Hmmm, I might of overdid it a bit,” Oko commented, scratching his chin as Whitney continued to stimulate herself. “Oh well, at least she’ll get a good lesson out of this. Now if you’ll excuse me, I must be off.”

  With a polite bow, Oko turned to make his leave. He managed to get a foot out the door before Victoria ran up and grabbed his shoulder.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Victoria asked.

  “To other gyms of course,” Oko nonchalantly replied. “My services are needed across the world to help people attain a better relationship with their Pokémon.”

  “What about Whitney? You can’t just leave her like that.”

  “Oh don’t worry about it, she’ll turn back to normal…eventually.”

  “Eventually!?”

  “Calm down, shouldn’t be too long. However, if you really want to expediate the process, giving her a helping hand with her swollen teats might help.”

  Victoria’s hand slid off of Oko’s shoulder. “Wait, you don’t mean I need to-”

  “Like I said, it’s only if you want to change her back faster,” Oko said, walking outside of the gym. “Have a nice day.”

  Victoria’s blank expression of disbelief left her silent as she watched the mysterious trainer walk further away with each passing second. Turning back towards the gym, she saw her precious leader sitting on the floor, her hooves fumbling with her breasts and udder and slathering the floor with her milk. Realizing how bad it would look if someone were to come by and see Whitney in her strange state, Victoria made a split decision.

  “We have to go,” Victoria said, pocketing Miltank’s discarded Pokeball before running up to Whitney to help her onto her feet.

  “Mil-mil?” Whitney asked, slowly rising from the ground.

  “I’m taking you to your room,” Victoria replied, dragging the transformed leader away from the gym floor. “I’ll think of what to do with you when we get there.”

  Dragging Whitney down the hall with a trail of milk behind them, Victoria heaved a sigh of relief as she laid eyes on the door to Whitney’s room. Pushing the door with her shoulder, Victoria brought Whitney over to her bed. Setting the cow woman down onto the mattress, she paced around the room trying to think of what to do next.

  “Mil-Miltank,” Whitney called out, seemingly begging for Victoria to do something.

  “I know, I know,” Victoria replied, not having a clue what her leader was saying. “That freak said you’d change back, but I don’t believe him for a second.”

  “Miiilllll,” Whitney cried out, her hooves running across her plump breasts and leaking udder.

  Victoria understood at least some of what Whitney was trying to convey. Oko’s words stuck in her head, no matter how much she wanted to forget them. Looking at Whitney’s needy gaze, Victoria was forced to make a decision. “I’ll be right back,” she said, leaving the room.

  A few minutes later, Victoria returned with eight buckets hanging from her arms. The buckets were used for milking Whitney’s Miltank on a regular basis. As she carried the buckets over to the bed, Whitney’s eyes lit up. The gym leader’s panic was replaced with excitement, bouncing her pudgy form against the bed and sprinkling the floor with stray droplets of milk.

  “Get on the ground and get on all fours.” Victoria said, unable to look Whitney in the eye as she got everything setup.

  Whitney obediently did as she was told, practically belly flopping off of her bed. Crawling over to the middle of the room, she waited patiently as Victoria placed a bucket beneath her breasts. Reaching her hands towards Whitney’s boobs, Victoria had to tell herself multiple times that this was all for the sake of the woman she admired most and to uphold the reputation of the gym.

  Daintily grasping Whitney’s nipples, Victoria gingerly pulled on them. The drops of milk came out in a trickle that splashed inside the empty basket. Each pull brought with it a soft moo from Whitney, her body shivering each time Victoria released more of her milk. Getting a feel for Whitney’s odd body, Victoria increased the speed and strength of her milking. Whitney’s euphoric cries grew louder as the trickle of milk became a steady stream that gradually filled up the bucket.

  Filling the first bucket up to the brim, Victoria pushed it aside and dragged a second one beneath Whitney’s udder. Even after groping and yanking on Whitney’s tits, she found it hard to even touch the strange protrusions hanging off of the spherical belly. Urged on by her own sense of duty and a numerous needy cries from her leader, she grabbed the thick teats and started to pull.

  The flow of Whitney’s udder was like a raging river that poured out milk like a waterfall into the bucket below. Whitney began to scream in ecstasy, her tongue hanging out of her mouth as her body shook with pleasure. Filling up the second bucket in mere seconds, Victoria moved onto a third and then a fourth. The feeling of the meaty udders between her fingers never lost its surrealness to Victoria. At the very least, she took solace in the fact that Whitney was enjoying herself.

  For the longest hour of her life, Victoria sat on the ground in an attempt to milk Whitney dry. Her hands shifted between Whitney’s bosom and udder at regular intervals, her touch acting as a personal massager to the gym leader’s oversensitive teats. The sound of buckets overflowing with milk was interspersed with Whitney’s constant cries of euphoria. Whenever Victoria got a chance to glance at Whitney, she saw a look of pure bliss on the gym leader’s morphed face. Powering through her odd task and the thought of what the other trainers in the gym would say if they saw if they saw Whitney like this, Victoria managed to fill up all eight buckets.

  Pulling the last bucket away just before the milk spilled over the rim, Victoria took a look at what she had accomplished. Daring to dip her finger into one of the buckets, a small taste made it appear as just abnormally sweet Miltank milk. Lowering herself to the floor, she noticed that some of the swelling in Whitney’s chest had gone down and the protrusions along her stomach had started to recede.

  “It’s a start at least,” Victoria sighed, coming up to face Whitney.

  “Mmmm…mmmm,” Whitney struggled to speak.

  “What is it? You know I can’t understand-“

  “Mmmmooooooooorrrrreee,” Whitney moaned, the first semi-human sound she had made since her transformation.

  “Um, sure,” Victoria said, quickly getting up off the ground. Setting the buckets aside to figure out what to do with them later, she started walking out of the room in search of more containers to store Whitney’s milk. Looking back at her gym leader, she watched her lazily play with her teats in anticipation of more stimulation. Leaving her expectant leader in the room, Victoria continued her task, using her time alone to think of what she would say to Whitney about their little experience once everything was over.

[shhhpider-man]

Irondad Bingo Trope: Losing Powers

My first entry for @irondadbingo ! catch me on AO3 under username chetta!

Find it on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18751636

~

It’s only once he wakes up and his vision has gone all fuzzy that Peter realizes that maybe that wizard guy he’d tangled with last night on patrol had been legit.

Cursing, he slings his legs over the side of his bed and rubs at his tired eyes until he sees stars. He swears again, louder this time, once he opens them only for things to be just as blurry as before. “Shit. Shit shit shit.”

What kind of curse was this supposed to be? Slightly subpar vision for the rest of eternity? Of course Peter had to be the one to get stuck with the one NYC wizard whose roster only included spells which were meant to irritate the shit out of their victims.

May’s harried voice carries from the kitchen, jolting him from his panic. “Pete? You’re gonna have to get a move on if you don’t want to miss class.”

His eyes widen as he catches a glance of the time. 7:30? He hadn’t even heard his alarm go off. “Yeah, I’m coming!” he calls before stumbling as he tries to stand.

“Okay, something’s definitely wrong.” It’s more than a little obvious at this point, but Peter still feels like it should be said.

He’s having trouble seeing and walking properly—he only manages to take a few steps before he has to grab onto his desk for support. Pulling up the legs of his sweatpants, Peter checks for any sort of bruises or lacerations that he could have missed the night before. But everything looks normal, the only difference being the fact that every movement feels like he’s running a marathon. He grabs at the chair—attempting to pull it away from his desk so he can just rest for a second—but the stupid thing refuses to move.

It’s strange, he considers for a moment, the last time he remembers feeling like this was back when—

Peter blinks, eyes wide. “No way,” he says to his reflection, because that just can’t be right.

A terrifying thought strikes him. The exhaustion, the decreased strength, the trouble seeing—they could all be explained by one thing: he doesn’t have his powers anymore; the magician took away his powers.

“No. No no no. No way,” he mutters to himself. Digging through his desk drawer, Peter’s hands grasp for the little box which he hasn’t had use for in months. He finds it crammed behind a pair of prototype web shooters, the hinges creaky with disuse.

He slides on the prescription-heavy frames and the room snaps back into perfect focus.

No way.

“Peter? Honey, I’m leaving now—did you want a ride?” May peeks her head into the room. When she sees the glasses, her eyes narrow. “What’re you doing with those?”

He pulls them off and tries to pretend that May hasn’t just become a blob of assorted colours. “Uhh. Just—I’m just, taking these for a project. Wanted to try them on for a second.”

“Okay,” she says, and Peter can tell that she’s not really looking at him, her eyes trained on his bedside clock. It’s probably the only thing that saves him from her seeing straight through his feeble lie. “Well, I hope everything goes well with the project. I’m off now since I guess you’re not ready to go yet. Or I can wait a couple more minutes if you want...”

“No, don’t worry about it, May. I’ll swing downtown—it won’t even take 15 minutes.”

He can tell her mouth is pinched even without being able to see it. “Alright. No hero-ing around this morning though, okay? You’ve got that training thing tonight and I promised Tony that you’d be there on time and in one piece.”

“Yeah, so the Avengers can kick the crap out of me.”

“Probably.” She checks her watch again. “I have to get going, but I’ll see you tonight, okay? Love you.”

“Love you too, May,” he calls at her retreating back.

Peter waits until he can hear the door close (it’s quieter now—why hadn’t he realized how quiet everything had gotten?) before he slips the glasses back on. There’s no way she’d let him go to the Compound tonight if she knew that he’s now just essentially a kid running around in millions of dollars worth of spandex. They’ll probably come back by then, he justifies to himself. There’s no way the wizard’s spell would have taken them away for good.

Right?

It’ll be fine. He tells himself this until he almost believes it, stuffing a change of clothes into his backpack and stepping into his suit.

“Everything will be fine—everything is fine,” he repeats as he stares down the side of his building a couple of minutes later. It’s only 6 stories, Peter’s fallen from heights that make this drop look like a couple of steps down, but he’s suddenly hyper aware of the fact that he’s now got no spidey-sense or healing factor to speak of whatsoever.

A fall from this height and he’s done. Plain and simple.

And to add insult to injury he still can’t freaking see—his glasses stashed neatly in the inside pocket of his backpack.

Is something the matter, Peter? Your vitals are within an unusual range today.

“No, KAREN. I’m fine, don’t worry about me.” He takes a bracing breath and lines up a shot. “I got this—I’m Spider-man.”

With that, he lets himself fall forward into the air, waiting a second before pushing down on a web shooter. The line catches the side of the opposite building and his momentum shifts. It’s only once he lets go of the web to grab onto a new one that he realizes his eyes had been closed the entire time.

The trip takes longer than it normally does. He keeps it simple, no fancy flips or tricks, no momentum-gaining big drops. Web to web. Simple as that.

Swinging feels different like this, but for the longest time Peter can’t figure out why. Sure, he’s more tired and the pressure feels more than a little uncomfortable on his shoulders, but that doesn’t explain the rush of fear that flood his stomach every time he lets go of a line.

He’s only a couple more minutes from the school now—there’s an alley a couple of blocks away that’s normally deserted at this time of the morning. His arm reaches out for another shot and Peter feels the web catch the facade of a tall brownstone. But then, before he even realizes it’s happening, Peter’s falling.

There’s no time for him to try and roll into the impact, no time to even register why he’s suddenly started losing altitude. One second he’s in the air and the next he’s on the ground and he can’t breathe.

Peter rolls onto his side, pain ratcheting up the entire left half of his body. He pulls in deep gulps of air, but it feels like his lungs have stopped working altogether.

Peter. My sensors indicate possible contusions to your left side.

“Y-yeah. That would make sense,” he grits out between clenched teeth. He wants to pull off his suit and check, but even the thought of moving is too much right now. “How did—how did I fall?”

KAREN is silent for a few moments. My sensors indicate no flaws in your webbing.

He cranes his neck. “Then how—?” There’s a chunk of the building lying only a few feet from his head, a silky strand of webbing still attached to one end.

This fall, in addition to the drop in your vitals today, signals that you may be experiencing some form of illness. My programming dictates that I—

“No, KAREN, don’t call Mr. Stark. It was just a little fall. You’ve seen me get up after worse, I’ll be fine.” He tries to inject as much confidence into the words as possible, despite the fact that he’s still curled into the fetal position in some strange alleyway on a Wednesday morning.

Yes, this does fall within my preset parameters of acceptable risk.

He lets out a sigh of relief. The last thing he needs is Tony poking his nose into this when he’s fine. “Yup. Thanks, KAREN,” he says, flinching when the words send another twinge of pain through his side. He’s perfectly fine.

Peter scrapes himself off the ground and starts rummaging around in his backpack. Lucky he had it with him to take some of the impact, or else this fall might not have been something he could have walked away from. He realizes this with a distant kind of dread, the same as when a perp misses a killing blow by mere inches.

It takes some work to coax his protesting arms and legs into his civvies (he gives up entirely on trying to get the suit off), but he manages to dust himself off and walk the rest of the way without accidentally almost dying again.

The bell’s already rung by the time he makes it to school, so he slips in with the last few stragglers before the morning announcements come on. Ned doesn’t look up from his phone when he drops into the empty seat next to him, giving an absentminded little wave as he scrolls. However, he does look up when Peter slips on his glasses.

“Thought you didn’t need those anymore?”

“I mean, I don’t,” Peter says, only now realizing how suspicious it probably looks to someone who knows that Peter Parker didn’t suddenly stop wearing glasses because he just finally bought some contacts. “I just—I’m just…”

There’s a lie on the tip of his tongue, but Ned’s eyes are earnest and Peter’s side just hurts so much.

“I lost my powers.”

His mouth drops open. “What? How?!”

“Shhhhhh! There was this wizard guy--”

Ned’s eyes go even wider, if possible. “You got cursed?!”

“Only a little bit,” he protests. “But that’s not the point. Now I can’t see properly, and I can’t swing, or punch things, and I fell on my way here because I thought I could make it in my suit.”

Peter’s throat is tight. He’d thought he could do this—but what if he can’t be Spider-man anymore? What if his powers never come back?

“You fell? Are you okay?”

Peter tries to take stock of his injuries. The pain in his arm and leg have dulled, but his chest still feels like it’s being kicked in repeatedly by the Hulk. “I don’t know. They’re fine, but I don’t know how long they’ll take to heal now.”

“You’ve got to tell Mr. Stark about this.”

“No way—”

“You could be in serious danger.”

“Ned—”

“Especially if you’re still doing that Avengers training thing today.”

“I am,” Peter says firmly, leaving as little room as he can in his voice for disagreement. “We’ve been planning this for weeks—Rogers and Barnes had to fly in from Russia for it—I can’t back out now.”

Ned’s expression still doesn’t change.

The teacher calls for their attention at the front of the class and the conversation dies down around them. Peter turns towards the board, but he can feel the way Ned’s eyes keep moving back towards him.

“It’s just temporary. They’ll come back,” he insists under his breath, because the only alternative is accepting that maybe now he’ll have to hang up the tights for good.

There’s a light tap on his arm and Ned slides a scrap of paper onto his desk. Promise me you’ll tell Mr. Stark, the note reads.

Peter sighs. Ned’s turned his face back towards their lesson, but Peter can still read the fearful tension in his shoulders.

I promise, he writes back and tries not to feel like a liar.

~

He climbs into the backseat of the car with little fanfare, waving hello to Happy before busying himself with the passing traffic.

“That’s it?” Happy asks from the front seat. “No ‘hi, Happy’, no ‘thanks for coming to pick me up, Happy’?”

Peter tries for the best approximation of a smile that he can manage. “Hey, Happy.”

They fall silent for a few moments, the greeting only managing to exacerbate Happy’s scrutiny. “Say, what’s with the fancy new specs?”

Peter feeds him the same line he’s been giving everyone today. “I uh, lost my contacts.” He crosses his fingers in his pockets and prays that Happy’s has no idea about any of the physical ramifications of his spider-powers.

The answer seems good enough to fool Happy. “You feeling okay, kid?”

“Yeah,” Peter lies. He feels like he’s been doing that a lot today. “Just tired. Think you can wake me up when we get there?”

“Sure thing.”

It’s over an hour drive to the Compound—way too much time for Happy to figure out that something’s up and continue picking at it. So Peter closes his eyes and leans his head against the window. At least this way he won’t be able to ask any more questions.

One of the car’s wheels hits a bump and Peter has to bite down on the whimper which tries to escape from his throat.

He’d gone to the bathroom during lunch to try survey the damage, stripping off his shirt and the top part of his suit once he was sure the room was empty. The entire left side of his chest had looked like some sort of gruesome impressionist painting, blues, blacks, and greens, all overlapping in a twisted kaleidoscope of colour. The patch had started all the way up at his armpit and continued downwards until it disappeared into the fabric bunched up at his waist, warm to the touch and absolutely radiating pain.

Peter has no idea how far down it goes, whether it stops at his legs or continues all the way down to his feet.

He’s a little too scared to check and see.

They arrive at the Compound just as the pain settles down into acceptable levels. Peter lets Happy get out of the car and come around to shake his shoulder. He tries not to flinch as Happy’s grip presses down on an especially vivid bruise.

“We’re here, kid.”

Peter makes a show of waking up—yawning, stretching his arms above his head as high as he can tolerate—before grabbing his backpack and heading towards the entrance.

“Thanks, Happy,” he tosses over his shoulder. Peter’s only made it a few steps into the building before he sees what looks like the totality of the Avengers making their way towards him.

Cap and Falcon are leading the charge, both of them suited up and ready for combat.

“Hey, guys. What’s going on?” He looks at Steve. “Nice to see you again, Cap.”

The patriot tips his head. “Queens.”

Natasha elbows her way past Sam, stopping to pat Peter once on the head before he continues past them. “Let’s get a move on, guys. Pete, you staying or going?”

“Going where? I thought we were training tonight?”

Steve fiddles with the strap on his shield. “Change of plans. Someone’s got an interspace portal set up in Jersey that we’ve got to take care of first.”

He looks past Steve for a moment, catching the glint of Bucky’s metal arm and the telltale red glow of Wanda’s powers. “You’re taking the whole team?”

“We’ve got no idea what’s on the other side,” Cap says with a shrug.

“Can I come?” Peter knows as soon as the words come out of his mouth that the most likely answer is—

“Hell no.” Tony sweeps into the room with all the subtlety of a rock concert, armour already half-assembled around him. He points to Peter. “You’re staying here with Bruce and playing checkers.”

His face falls. “But—”

“Nuh-uh. We’re not playing this game today, Parker. Team?” He gestures all of them towards where the Quinjet is parked on the tarmac.

“Tony,” Steve starts, tone sympathetic. “We did tell the kid he’d be doing some hands-on training today. It’s not gonna get more hands-on than this.”

Rhodey chimes in from the other end of the room. “Yeah, come on, Tones. Let the kid live a little.”

“Yeah, come on, Mr. Stark,” Peter chimes in hopefully, but backs down after the glare Tony directs his way.

Indecision plays over Mr. Stark’s face, his perpetual need for Peter to be away from the action in a desperate battle with his desire to get Peter properly trained asap.

Mr. Stark takes a bracing breath. “If I let you come—big if—” He pokes Peter in the chest. “You have to promise that you will take this mission as a training exercise—”

Peter doesn’t hesitate. “I promise.”

“—that means no unnecessary risks and no close quarters combat. Do you hear me? Stay out of the action and web them up. Observe.”

“I can do that. I swear, I’ll be good, I’ll follow orders.”

Tony pauses for a second, weighing Peter’s sincerity. His eyes snap between him and Cap. “Fine.”

Peter throws his hands up. “Yes!” Without thinking, he throws his arms around Tony’s shoulders. “Thank you, Mr. Stark.”

The man tenses up, but a gauntleted hand eventually comes down to pat Peter on the back. “Yeah, yeah, kid. Thank me later.”

“Alright, Avengers—let’s go!”

The team starts drifting in the direction of the Quinjet. Peter can’t believe it, he’s going on an Avengers mission. Where there will be a possible extraterrestrial encounter. He’s so excited he could sing.

“Cute glasses, Peter,” Wanda says as she walks by, her nails clicking as she taps one of the rims.

Peter freezes. He’d almost forgotten—the magician, the curse, the powers. “Thanks, Wanda.” He shoots her a smile, all the while his chest feels like it’s sunk somewhere past his feet.

He can’t fight like this. He’d only barely survived a 10-foot fall today onto concrete—there’s no way he’ll be able to go out and fight aliens without getting overpowered.

Thank God Tony hadn’t noticed the glasses earlier, probably too caught up in pre-battle prep to realize that Peter shouldn’t have needed them anymore.

“You coming, Pete? Magic School Bus ain’t gonna wait up for long.” Tony’s waiting up by the open doors, brows furrowed and expression curious.

Peter’s so close to telling him, then. So close to calling off the whole thing. Instead, he takes off his glasses and tucks them into the pocket of his jeans.

“Way ahead of you, Mr. Stark. Hey, do you think I’ll get to punch any aliens today? Punching an alien’s like, the number four thing on my bucket list.”

Mr. Stark claps him soundly on the shoulder as he passes. The white-hot flash of pain it inspires is almost enough to knock Peter over. “Don’t get your hopes up,” he tells him. There’s a line between Tony’s eyes that still hasn’t gone away yet. “Hey, kid, are you—?”

“I’ll race you to the jet,” Peter interrupts, mostly because he knows that Tony won’t chase him and he needs this conversation to be over, like, 10 minutes ago. He takes off before Tony can say anything else, wading through the military-calibre equipment and plopping down into a seat between Thor and Bucky just as the ship takes off.

Thor’s expression lights up when he catches sight of him. “Young man of spiders! Finally ready to join us in glorious battle?”

Peter opens his mouth to respond, but not before Tony can interject. “Hold your horses, Point Break—kid’s not doing battle. Observer status only.” He fixes Peter with a pointed look.

“Nevertheless.” He picks up Mjolnir where it’s been resting against his leg. “I shall be more than pleased to know that he is watching my back.”

“Uh, thanks.” Not that Peter would be able to do much more than watch anyways. He can shoot webs, barely even swing, but that’s about it.

The ride to Jersey is short and quiet. The tensions between the two sides of the Accords feud have finally abated enough for silences to get closer to something approaching ‘comfortable’, so there is less of a need for Peter to try and fill the silence than in the past. He spends the ride with his eyes closed and head tilted back—he’d forgotten how badly he used to get carsick before the bite, but he’s having trouble forgetting it now.

Once Cap begins discussing mission parameters and roles, Peter moves towards the back of the plane. His plan is to just wait the battle out somehow, web up a few aliens from a rooftop if things get a little hairy. That way Tony will never even need to know and things can go back to normal—easy peasy.

He shucks off his shirt and jeans, kicking them to the corner of the ship and dropping his bag on top of them. He’s wringing his mask between his hands when a hand touches his shoulder and he starts, whipping around.

Mr. Stark holds his hands up in surrender. “Woah there, never been able to sneak up on you like that before—are you sure you’re okay?”

There’s concern written into Tony’s features and Peter feels bad for lying to him. “Yeah. Never better.”

“Good.” Eyes roving over Peter’s face like he’s searching for something, Tony’s mouth presses into a thin white line. “Be careful out there, alright?”

“Of course. Peanut gallery privileges only.”

Anxiety appeased for the time being, Tony ruffles his hair before moving towards the Quinjet doors. The rest of the team lines up behind him and Peter tugs on his mask before moving towards the back of the group.

Cap turns towards everyone. “Alright, team. Let’s shut this down as quickly as we can. Keep injuries to a minimum please, I don’t want to have to scrape anyone off of the pavement again.”

Someone coughs. “Sam.”

“That was one time, man!”

The muted laughter of the team is drowned out as the bay doors open, flooding the ship with sharp mechanical sounds and the scared yells of civilians.

Everyone’s spread out in the open before Peter even really has a chance to take the scene in. He slips out of the Quinjet as the doors start closing and takes position near the corner of the building they’d landed on. Thank god Clint had touched down here and not on the street—Peter hadn’t been looking forward to trying to web his way up without being able to stick to things.

Peter, Mr. Stark is attempting to connect you to the team’s main comms channel.

The battle looks indistinct from here, it’s difficult to make anything out without his glasses. He’ll need to comms if he wants to have any idea of what’s going on. “Patch them through, KAREN.”

Immediately, his ears are assaulted by the sounds of 10 adults all yelling and fighting at once.

“Portal’s on your left, Cap,” someone says, Peter’s not sure who. “We need someone to bottleneck them there before any more of them can spread out and get to civilians. War machine, you got eyes on the scene?”

Rhodey’s response comes in seconds. “There are a couple dozen stragglers around the periphery, but most of these bastards are concentrated around the origin point.”

“Hey, Rhodes, watch your language—young ears and all that.” That’s Tony’s voice--Peter would be hard-pressed not to recognize it after all these months.

He realizes belatedly who it is they’re talking about. “You’ve literally said worse with me right there, Mr. Stark.”

“Do as I say, not as I do.” The Iron Man suit cuts low, repulsors firing on the writhing grey-greenish masses. It suddenly occurs to Peter that those blurry masses are actual living, breathing aliens, and he’s caught somewhere between exhilaration and existential terror.

“I’m taking bottleneck with Wanda,” Nat says and Peter can just barely make her out on the street below, shoving her fists and feet into any soft tissue she can find. “Someone look out for whatever device is keeping this thing open.”

Cap sounds out of breath, wherever he is. “That’s assuming it’s not on their side.”

“If it is on the wrong side of the portal, I’m calling dibs on not going through this one. I’ve done my time,” Tony pipes up. He’s the easiest for Peter to see on the battlefield, his vibrant armour making him the most recognizable by far.

“Spider-man, can you see anything from your vantage point?”

Peter’s face flushes. He can barely tell where everyone is, nevermind pick out a device among the hundred moving bodies on the ground. “Nothing from up here.”

He feels useless, out of place. He can’t do anything without his powers.

“Pete, there are some civilians near where you’re perched with a few E.T.s getting a little close for comfort.”

“I’m on it.” He takes position and aims his web shooters at what looks like the aliens. They’re all sort of mushy-looking from this angle, essentially big piles of disgusting looking sludge with plasma guns.

The crowd of civilians quickly dissipates once the aliens have been taken down. Peter sets his sights on the rest of the battle, letting the other Avengers corral groups of them within range of his web shooters so that he can incapacitate them.

“Found the device,” Hawkeye interjects over the regular commotion of the comms. “No idea how it works, though. Stark, I’m gonna need your help with this one.”

“Be there in a sec, dearest.” Tony touches down just out of range of Peter’s shooters, where if Peter strains he can just about make out Hawkeye crouching over something.

“Alright, guys, I’m stripping down for this, I can’t see what I’m doing in the armour,” Tony says.

Someone laughs. “Dinner and a show—perfect.”

“Bucky, Spider-man, watch Stark’s back. He’s totally exposed without the armour.”

“Gotcha, Steve.”

“Copy that, Cap.” Peter doesn’t have to be told twice. He moves as close as he can to Mr. Stark without falling off of the roof and webs up anything he thinks is getting too close.

After a few minutes of this, Mr. Stark still hasn’t shut off the device and Peter’s eyes are beginning to ache with the effort of trying to focus.

“You have an ETA on that thing, Mr. Stark?”

“Pipe down, kiddo, gotta concentrate.”

Peter raises his web shooters again and tries to ignore how badly his arms are shaking. He can do this.

There’s a sudden, sharp snarl from behind him and Peter whips around. It’s too late for a warning, too late to call for help—one of the gigantic masses is already towering over him, effectively trapping Peter on the corner of the roof where he’d been perched.

It’s a bad time for Peter to remember that they call it ‘nearsightedness’ for a reason. As the alien draws even closer, Peter is able to make out the sharp claws clutching at the rounded metal tube that they’ve been firing on them with, the triple rows of bloody teeth crowding its mouth.

The tube comes up and strikes Peter’s head before he can make a choice between fight or flight, the momentum carrying him onto his bruised side. The pain feels bone-deep this time, like he’s just fallen all over again.

He doesn’t manage to stifle his cry this time, his pained exclamation broadcast for the entire team to hear.

“Peter?” Tony’s yelling his name before anyone else has a chance to react. “Kid?”

Peter drags himself away, gritting his teeth against the pain it causes. “I’m fine. Get the portal closed." KAREN, mute my comms for now.” He can’t afford to be a distraction for the team on top of everything else.

His moment of distraction has cost him, though. A tight grip latches onto his leg and pulls him backwards before slinging him through the air and throwing him back into the ground.

Peter swears he hears something crack. His vision goes black for a second, and he screams loud enough that he thinks the others must have heard him this time, even without his comms on.

But no one comes to his rescue. The alien keeps approaching, obviously enjoying toying around with Peter before he kills him. KAREN is yelling in his ears, something about fractures and internal bleeding, but Peter doesn’t really hear her.

The barrel of the metal tube points towards him. The alien has finished with his game.

Peter has just enough time to realize that he’s about to die before he’s forcing his feet into motion, his months of training and patrols kicking his muted senses all into high-gear.

He slams his hand into the barrel of the weapon just as it begins to heat, forcing the muzzle away from him and towards the creature.

There’s a discharge followed by an inhuman shriek. The alien topples backwards and doesn’t move again.

He stumbles backwards. He needs to sit—he needs to rest—he—

Peter picks out Tony’s voice among the general clamour of the comms. “Almost done, guys. I think I’ve just about got it.”

He turns around and fear floods him all over again. There’s Tony on the ground, head angled towards the body of the portal device. Less than ten feet away is an alien, the gun in its clawed hands pointing straight towards Tony’s unprotected back.

“Mr. Stark!” Peter screams into the comms. “Behind you! There’s—”

He registers several things at one moment: one, they’re both too far for him to reach with his webs; two, his comms are off and no one else sees what’s happening; and three, Tony is going to die right now if Peter doesn’t do anything to stop it.

There’s no time to think, no time to even really decide. Peter just acts, throwing himself off of the side of the building and casting a web out wherever the hell he can get it to stick.

It catches—thank god—and Peter’s flying instead of falling. The world seems to slow down as Peter nears, he registers the snap of the portal closing, the expletive-laced shout of triumph Tony lets out, and the gentle whirr of the blaster being charged.

His feet impact the alien’s head with a sickening sound, and his momentum carries him straight through the kick and onto the ground.

Peter rolls from his back straight onto his feet. The alien copies his movement, rising sluggishly back onto whatever haunches it had been standing on. It raises the blaster once more, this time aimed at Peter’s chest—

Then a hole is blown straight through the beast’s body and it slumps to the ground.

“Nice work, kid,” Tony says, his hand still raised and ready to blast the thing again if it moves.

The breath leaves Peter all at once. He sways a little on his feet, the entire battle catching up to him all at once. “You said that last time too,” he remembers before his knees hit the ground again.

“Pete? Hey—hey, kid. You alright?” Tony drops down in front of him, his hands grabbing Peter’s shoulders just fast enough to stop him from crumbling completely. “Peter? You gotta answer me, kid.”

His vision is swimming. “I… I need to tell you something. My—my powers, they’re gone. I—on patrol—they—a wizard, he—” He’s interrupted by a loud, body-wracking cough. Something wet slides down his chin and he moves to tug off his mask.

“Hey, hey, hey—Woah there, hold on a second.” Tony grabs his arm, but freezes a second later, staring at Peter with something akin to horror.

“What is it?” Peter asks, but it comes out all wet and wrong.

“Cap! Nat! Somebody—we need the jet. Now,” Tony yells.

Peter’s head feels so heavy suddenly. He lists forward until he’s propped up against Tony’s chest, his forehead resting on the man’s shoulder. “Taste blood.”

“You’re bleeding internally,” Tony explains patiently, his voice laced with something manic and terrified. ‘You’re coughing up blood—it’s soaking through your mask.”

“Oh.” The fingers Peter presses to his mouth come away soaked a deep red. His hand feels like it weighs about a million pounds just then. It drops into his lap as he slumps against Tony’s shoulder.

“Peter.” He wants to respond, but Tony’s just so far away. “Kid, I swear to God,” he says, and it comes out sounding more like a sob than anything.

But then another set of strong hands is lifting him. There’s still yelling—it’s all around him, it might even be him—but all of it is so indistinct as to not even be there.

The next time he opens his eyes, his mask is off. The ground is vibrating underneath him and two steady hands are combing their way through his hair.

“Tony?” he murmurs, looking far into the distance at what he assumes is Mr. Stark’s head. It’s Mr. Stark—it has to be. No one else is ever this gentle with Peter.

“I’m here, kid.”

Peter smiles, but even that is painful now too. “Shouldn’t have come. I can—can’t stick to things anymore.” Something wet dribbles from his chin when he turns his head and Peter wonders distantly if he’s drooling. “‘m not Spider-man.”

“You’re always Spider-man, Peter.” One of the hands from Peter’s head brushes the wetness away from his chin. “We’re gonna get you all fixed up, you hear me? You just have to stay awake.”

“Okay,” Peter says because Tony sounds like he’s in agony, like the one thing that could make it all better is if Peter could just keep his eyes open.

But the exhaustion is creeping into his bones now, into the bruises and broken bones that stubbornly refuse to heal. Some part of Peter’s mind has realized that this is all too much for him; he’s been defeated, all he has to do now is issue the final surrender.

But Tony still thinks they’ve got time—Tony has no idea that Peter’s is running out before his eyes.

He grabs Mr. Stark’s hand and squeezes it with all the strength that he has left. “I can’t heal. My powers—I can’t heal.”

And Tony’s eyes go wide right then, because he realizes the same thing that Peter’s already accepted. “No. No.” He shakes his head.

“I’m sorry,” Peter tells him before he drifts off.

“Peter. Kid, stay awake. Please. God, please, please—I can’t lose him.”

Sounds echo, but Peter doesn’t have time to hear them before his eyes slip shut.

~

When Peter wakes up several hours later—after an impromptu visit from Doctor Strange and a gruelling 7-hour surgery, as he’ll learn later—his hand is being clasped tightly between someone else’s.

There’s the steady beat of a heart sat right next to his bed and the low hum of the heart monitor Peter can feel attached to his chest. A laboured sigh fills the room. “Alright, Pete. You’ve been snoozing long enough—time to wake up now.”

Peter cracks his eyes open.

The first thing he sees is the look Tony sets aside specifically for Peter’s absolute worst screw ups, his mouth turned down into a grimace and his brow set in one hard line. “Nice of you to join us, kid.”

“How’d you know I was awake?” he asks, voice gravelly from sleep.

“Your face always twitches a little when you’re coming out of it.” Tony drops Peter’s hand with a tired sigh, leaning over the bed to grab something off of the bedside table. He tips a cup towards Peter’s lips. “Here. Just ice chips for now—I’ve been informed that you’ll be able to graduate back to liquids as soon as your insides stop bleeding all over the place.”

Peter takes a few pieces and lets them melt on his tongue. “I don’t get it,” he says after a moment. “I thought I was…”

“A goner?” Tony’s face is pale, his expression drawn. “You gave it your best shot—I’ll give you credit, but nothing so bad that doctors Strange and Cho couldn’t fix it.”

He almost chokes on an ice chunk. “Doctor Strange was here?”

“How’d you think we got your healing factor to work again?”

With a jolt, Peter realizes his vision’s been returned to its regular clarity. The relief hits him like a freight train. “You mean he undid everything? The spell?”

“All gone.”

He takes a deep breath. “I still feel kinda weird, though.”

“Weird how?” Tony asks.

Peter flexes his fingers and toes. Everything is strange—distant, almost. “Weak.”

“That’ll be the painkillers. We doped you up good enough to put down a horse—several, in fact.”

Tony sets the cup back down on the table. His jaw moves like he’s debating something. “Peter, why the hell did you do that?”

He doesn’t ask Tony to specify what it is he’s talking about. “I—I just thought I could handle it.”

“You thought you could handle stepping into a superhero battle royale with literally none of your abilities in working order? Tell me how that checks out.”

“I made a mistake, okay?”

Tony’s voice is like steel. “No. A mistake is when you forget to block a hit because you’re mouthing off. A mistake is when you run out of web-fluid in the middle of a battle. Getting hit on patrol and then not telling me for a whole day when your powers disappear is not a mistake.” He appears to collect himself for a moment, physically reigning in the fury that’s seeping through the seams. “You asking to come on a mission with us despite full well knowing that you’d be flying in—literally—blind, injured, and powered down—that’s not a mistake. It didn’t happen by accident.”

“I was going to tell you—”

Tony scoffs.

“No, I was—I swear,” Peter maintains, reaching out for his mentor’s arm. “I just, I wanted to prove that I could still be Spider-man, even without the abilities.”

Tony sighs and covers his face. “You don’t have anything to prove to me, Peter.”

“Not to you, maybe, but to myself.”

And Tony looks at him then, really takes in his expression, and maybe sees something he understands. A hunger, a drive to assert himself as more than just the mask.

The fear written into his expression settles into something else—defeat, maybe pride. “I meant what I said on the jet. You’re Spider-man no matter what.”

A smile creeps onto Peter’s face. “Thanks, Mr. Stark.”

“But, and I’m not jerking you around here, if you ever pull anything—anything—like that again, I’ll save everyone the trouble and just kill you myself. You hear me?”

Peter leans back and closes his eyes. “I hear you.”

“Good.” A hand settles on the top of his head, methodically separating the curls that have clumped together. “You really freaked me out there, Pete.”

Peter knows that’s as close as Tony will get to admitting that he was scared. Terrified, even, if his shaky memories can be trusted.

“I’m sorry.”

Mr. Stark heaves another sigh, this one sounding from deep in his chest. “I know. Go to sleep, kid.”

He murmurs a response, but it’s lost as he slides back into unconsciousness. He knows Tony will be there when he wakes up.

[maladaptive-ninja-returns]

Infinity War (3)

CHAPTER 3: TIME

Loki & The Avengers

Summary: A work inspired by @queencfthestarsdrfoster ‘s post of the universe where Loki is alive and Thor is avenged.

Series: Will contain all- and more- that we saw in Infinity War. Will not contain smut and fluff for obvious reasons. Might contain weird humor though.

Chapter content: Loki comes to earth.

Warnings: ...none, surprisingly.

Word count: I’ve started learning German. Like really basic German. I haven’t told anyone because *shrugs* I don’t know whenever I share something with someone it just...the thing just dilutes its importance and suddenly I do not seem to appreciate the thing I was doing, anymore. So, for now, it’s just me and this always-skipped wordcount that knows that. I’m also learning three other languages (just basics now) side by side.

MASTERLIST & Taglist in bio, my love

Jay & The Americans sing Come A Little Bit Closer in the lone pod traveling inevitably towards Earth as the scanners show another intruder ship in the atmosphere.

“Oh Hel,” Loki whispers to himself, giving the machine coordinates for the last place he heard Heimdall whisper to send the Hulk. The warning lights go all out as the destination is entered but Loki doesn’t have much time to think about it. The foreign spaceship has anchored itself on the planet, already going in with the intent of ‘be ruled or be killed’. He creates a trajectory for the landing in order to avoid any prying aliens and still be able to hit the ground without dying.

At least that’s what he intends to do until his eyes catch the whirlwind and he has to maneuver around the nearest building, avoid the lampposts, hit one, let his makeshift ship do multiple three-sixties till it lands in the same building he was last in when he had visited earth with Thor.

“Ugh,” he groans in pain, using the impact of the ship to try and hide the pain from the memory of watching his brother die, “I knew I could not trust anything owned by Quill!”

"What is he the lord of? Garbage technology?" Loki grumbles to himself for having to put too much effort into getting out of the totaled pod and finding himself facing a soft-looking man who is staring at him with a tilted head and a confused expression on his face.

"You're...Loki?" The chubby man states rather than ask the God.

"Wow," Loki tries to catch his breath, giving the man a smirk, "my reputation precedes me. And you are…?"

"Wong." The man shifts his hands to project golden sparkles covering his fists, making Loki give him a two-second judgmental stare before a sigh leaves his rapidly healing body.

"I'd nearly forgotten about that," he whispers to himself. "I come in peace, sorcerer," he announces, raising his hands, "as you can see, the earth is in trouble and your heroes-"

A wail comes and goes from above the crashed building they stand it, sounding almost-childlike.

"Is that...a kid?"

Wong too reruns the wail he just heard, never letting his guard down. "No…I hope not." But he is clearly worried about who that must have been.

"Do you know what's going on outside, Wong?" Loki asks the sorcerer.

"Something to do with you, I'm assuming," Wong almost sings back, his voice heavy and his stance never faltering. "Banner told us about Thanos. And you're supposed to be dead along with your brother.

Loki blinks. His throat feels heavy. But all he does is swallow it- like he always has. Just another gash in the lifetime of hurt. Only this one hurts like a pounding ache in the head.

"Thor's dead," his voice does not rise above a whisper, controlling the only way he knows how to react to the chest ache he gets now and then- rage. "And if you do not listen to me, mortal, you might as well be digging the entire universe's grave."

.

"Kid! Where'd you come from?"

Stark looks at Peter in his usual 'streetwear' blocking the alien from hitting him while asking Tony what was going on.

"A field trip to MoMA!" the boy nearly shrieks at the end as he is thrown away by the Black Dwarf.

From the corner of the street, Loki sees the chaos unfurling itself everywhere. From Ebony Maw- the most ruthless and disorientedly cunning of the Black Order- gaining in on Strange to the Black Dwarf using his strength in the most potent way on Stark and...

"That is a kid," Loki hears himself say in sheer disbelief. "When did Stark have a son?"

The building he is standing beside glows in a small circle before giving way to a huffing Wong walking straight through the portal with a mixture of fear and anger.

"You better have a plan," he is almost disgusted at himself to be asking Loki for help, "because these guys are beating the shit out of Strange and Stark. And on good days I like seeing Strange being beaten at something!"

Loki looks at Wong's pleading eyes not even trying to mask the helplessness the man is feeling at this moment. He likes this one. Mostly because they care so much for the same guy.

"Well, you're in luck then," Loki declares, taking off his cloak.

"I have a plan."

.

Ebony Maw. The master of torture, the creature who excels in every type of experimental pain he has ever come up with, fueled up by the cries of millions he has 'sacrificed' in the name of the greater good. He finally tastes the juices flowing inside him when he wraps the wizard inside the vines to take him up inside the ship and begin the most 'pure ritual in the world to cleanse this creature'. Everything in the name of balance. At last. The glory will be his master's. And the satisfaction of having ended those who oppose the master, his.

The ship is already getting away from the atmosphere and down below he can see the faint trail of fire coming towards the ship before going off.

He scoffs internally. Humans. Pretending they can own the universe.

An explosion echoes through the ship, taking away all the attention from his meandering thoughts to whatever little ruckus these sorry creatures have thought of now. A look at his screen and he finds balls of fire being thrown at the ship through the portals Stephen and his comrade had been using- or trying to use on him.

He wants to retaliate, show them their worth, but that would require him to take bits and pieces of his own battleship to be turned in the sharpest daggers before cutting through the portals and gutting whosoever lies behind them.

"Unworthy scum," is all he has to say before he warps away with the treasure he was here for.

.

Bruce is already closing his eyes when he hears Tony barge through the front door, stomping in with blood boiling through his veins.

"BANNER!" he shouts, coming to a halt near his face before hissing, "you better have a really good reason for telling me that the stone is safe just when I was nearly able to reach Voldemort's ship because I saw that grey bitch take the doctor with him."

"The stone is safe."

He turns around at Peter's voice.

"Kid," he nearly seems to have a stroke as he sees Peter standing in the sanctum in front of him, "I thought you were following the wi-"

"The wizard, yes," comes Peter's voice, again but from Tony's right this time.

Now Tony definitely seems to be having a stroke.

"What the hell is going on here?" Tony is frozen at his point, "Did you have a twin all this time, Parker?"

"Wha-no Mr. Stark," the one his right speaks, while the left one just smirks at him, arching his good brow and standing with his arms behind his back like...like...

"Who the hell are you?"

He is wishing it not be true.

"You know who I am, Stark," the Peter on his left stresses. In a British accent. "I missed you too."

"Show me your face, you son of a bitch," Tony hasn't blinked for a long time now and the real Peter can already feel his mentor's displeasure reach its peak.

"He helped me get Mr. Wizard to safety Mr. Stark," Peter nearly squeaks, fearing what Tony might do to the other guy. Just then he is awed by the golden and green light glittering away his image into someone taller- much taller- than him.

But Tony doesn't flinch.

"Now," Loki declares, the scars from the deep wounds still reflecting the blood over his face, giving his best smile to Tony, "let's have that drink, shall we?"

[saltylikecrait]

A one-shot continuation of my Folklore AU.

“Finn, it’s not going to hurt you. Just concentrate.”

He stared at his hands where the small flame just vanished almost as quickly as it appeared. They trembled slightly, his fear of unstable fire magic resurfacing.

Rey watched him, biting her lower lip. She wasn’t frustrated with him, but she was growing closer. Fire magic came naturally to her, almost the same way water magic was for him. It was like there was always one element that someone struggled with, and fire was his.

Staring at her and the blue sky and ocean behind her, Finn found the scene picturesque. For the first time in months he was back in his homeland, this time with the one woman he wanted to be by his side.

Her eyes were wide with wonder the first time she got a glimpse of the sea. She might be centuries old, but the Goddess of Wild Things was bound to her forest for her own safety. Rey had never seen an ocean before. There was a lot she had never seen.

Prince Finn wanted to show her the world and vowed to with the help of his snow-gray steed Tornan, who was resting among sea grass quietly behind the campsite. He was a loyal gelding, steady and with a gentle personality, traits his rider prized over everything else. His sister loved her spirited, athletic horses who flew over fields and jumps. Finn just wanted something that would get him to where he needed to go and do it without much fuss.

Looking back at his hands, he thought maybe he should try to relax more before trying again. “I think I want to take a walk,” he announced. “Get my mind off things and try again later.”

She tutted. “Why do it today when you can do it tomorrow?” she said, bluntly and not at all amused.

“Perfect,” Finn teased. “We’re in agreement.”

Her footsteps kept in sync with his as he headed towards the shoreline. “What are you frightened of,” she called out. “You’re safe with me.” Her voice crackled. She was hurt.

Guilt welled inside him. She was only trying to help. Finn should count his blessings that not only was an experienced magic user was teaching him, but that a literal goddess who had learned from one of the most ancient of beings was on his side.

“The first time I tried using fire magic, I almost set my room on fire,” he confessed with a sigh. “I hated that feeling… Not having control over my magic.”

Rey’s hand brushed over his arm. Her warmth was comforting, gentle. Finn leaned into her, realizing she wasn’t angry with him.

“You know, the ocean is very beautiful at sunset,” she commented. “It almost makes me forget how dangerous it really is.”

“Is it so dangerous for an immortal?” he asked.

“Sometimes,” she mused. “And you see, I never quite learned how to control water magic either. Can you imagine how bad that would be for me to get caught in danger while in water?”

Finn grimaced. “Yeah, that sounds bad.”

“And it only took one time for me to really understand how important it was to gain a control on all the elements.” She linked their hands together, their fingers tangled, and turned to look at him in the eyes. “If it weren’t for the Mother Goddess, you wouldn’t be here right now. My water magic was too weak to heal you.”

Every time he looked at his right shoulder, where the ragged line of a scar ran down towards his chest, Finn was reminded of how close he was of falling victim to the God of Greed. He knew Rey regretted her failings with her magic that day, but he couldn’t find it in himself to be angry with her for what the god did. She tried her best.

He leaned in to kiss her on her cheek. “You know I don’t blame you for that.”

“I know, but it still frightens me.”

It made Finn think about a scenario where they were in danger again, where he needed to use his magic to control a fire. He didn’t doubt Rey could handle herself, but what if they were separated?

She was right; he needed to learn to control his magic, even the parts he didn’t care for.

“Would you be up to trying again?” he asked her. “Teaching me, I mean.”

“Of course.” Rey smiled.

He didn’t master fire magic in an hour, but Finn at least became more comfortable holding flames in the palm of his hands. Against his skin, the fire felt warm, but not so much that it would burn him. If he were to toss the flame at someone else, however, they would burn just like any other human.

“This isn’t so bad, I guess,” he admitted finally.

Grinning, Rey shot him a knowing look. “Not at all. You might struggle to really use fire the way I struggle with water, but no one’s perfect.”

Finn rolled his eyes. “Says a literal goddess.”

“Except, I was once mortal too,” she reminded him. “Unlike you, I didn’t have magic until I became a goddess.”

They hadn’t spoken about the potential for his own immortality for a while. Eventually, he knew they would have to. It loomed over their relationship. Some days, the prince put the thought of godhood behind him, and it was easy with how human Rey behaved, but he was constantly reminded that if she was the one for him, one day, he would find himself healing rapidly after every injury and his aging process halting. How weird it would be to watch his siblings grow old while he remained the same.

Despite their silence on the matter, Finn knew it would come up one day. He wasn’t sure exactly what he was afraid of over just talking about the subject, but he felt it every time Rey relayed a story about her life and her eyes grew tired.

That was what frightened him the most. Living forever seemed exhausting.

Suddenly, Rey’s focus shifted back to the ocean and she stood up, walking towards the cliff where they set up camp. She hadn’t known about things such as tides and Finn would rather their camp not get caught up with it.

He got up to see what caught her attention and gaped when he looked over the cliff.

“Woah.” In all his life, he had never seen the tide come in that quickly or that high. He looked out to the horizon, seeing the waves were uncharacteristically rough. These were conditions he’d see during a storm, not a calm spring night.

His ears were filled with not only the sound of crashing waves but also an echoing vocalization, the tone a low register that variated with timing.

A grin spread on Rey’s face. “This won’t last long,” she said, like a promise. “Your kingdom’s guardian has just come to check me out.”

“Guardian?” Finn felt his eyes widen. There were stories his people told about why no one could conquer Artorias by sea. A massive whale, given life and a purpose by prayers and offerings, would ram enemy naval ships down, protecting its domain and those who lived within it.

Ruarc, the god of the warm waters of the Artorian sea.

Rey nodded. “He felt our magic, my strength. Guardian gods always want to know who is in their territory.” She shot him a grin. “It’s why I was watching you at my shrine the day we met. Don’t need another magician trying to burn down my forest.”

There was another story he needed to ask her about. They didn’t return to Finn’s home just to enjoy the scenery. He wanted to present a manuscript of myths and legends to his family, hoping his father would give permission for the royal scribes to make copies and distribute them among the major settlements to start. Queen Maz in Takodana already agreed to the idea.

This was the best way he could think of saving Rey from fading away. As long as the world had access to these books, Rey’s stories would always be remembered. That wasn't the only reason why they were returning though. There was something Finn wanted to ask her, but he had to bring it up with his parents first. Even if they didn't agree, he would still ask, but it would be nice to have his family's approval.

She walked back to their campsite, going over to the saddle left hanging over a fallen log. Her lioness mask hung against the saddle bags, pushed to the side as she dug through them and retrieved a dried sprig of pine she took from her forest to remind her of home. Snapping off a small bit of the top, she put the rest back into the bag and returned to the cliff.

“An offering,” she explained, holding the pine and a half of an oyster shell she found earlier on the beach. “So he knows I’m no threat to my lover’s kingdom.”

Moving down the slope of the cliff, she walked until she was close enough to the water’s edge that she could place the oyster shell with the pine resting in it on the waves.

Almost as suddenly as the waves grew high, they calmed, receding and taking the oyster shell with it.

Rey waited with Finn as they watched the shell drift deeper out to see. He didn’t know what she was waiting for, but he was curious to find out.

A spout of water burst from the sea, spraying skyward as a massive whale emerged. Its bumpy gray skin, covered in barnacles, reflected wet in the silver moonlight.

“Do you know his name?” she asked.

“We call him Ruarc,” Finn replied.

The whale god stared as the shell came to eye level with him, as microscopic as it was compared to the enormous creature. He groaned a note of song one more time, and then, as if appeased by Rey’s offering, descended to the depths below.

“He is more magnificent than I ever imagined,” Finn admitted.

Rey shot him a glance. “More magnificent than me?” she teased.

The prince stuttered. “Wha- You know what I mean!”

She laughed. “Oh, Finn, I’m just kidding you.” Taking him by the hand, she walked them back to their campsite, where the warmth of their bedrolls and the fire was calling for them.

[emma-nation]

Without You - Bloodbound AU (Chapter 10) *For You Sequel*

Summary: Gaius is back. While coming up with a plan to take him down, the gang must deal with some new life-changing events.

Genre: Angst/Adventure/Romance

Rating: T - Warning for violence and language

Tag List: @begging-for-kamilah, @lulu-the-cat, @ilovekamilahsayeed, @zoe6111, @kennaxval (If you want to be tagged in future chapters/fics of this pairing let me know!)

Notes:

- English is my second language, please forgive me for any mistakes.

- Hope you enjoy it, your reviews and likes are always appreciated.

Lysimachus

After waking up from one his terrible nightmares, or better, flashbacks from his dark days in a Roman prison, he opened his eyes, expecting to find some comfort, relief... but the opposite side of his bed was empty. Lysimachus sighed heavily.

Boom! A loud explosion noise came from his living room, followed by a hysterical laugh.

"Ha! How do you like that, huh?!"

Priya was standing in front of his TV, focused on a VR game he had never seen before. Without her awareness, he unplugged the console.

"WHAT?!"

"I told you to stay in bed. You need to rest."

"More?" She frowned. "I've been resting for days."

"Let me check it out."

Under her shirt, he examined the bite wound on her shoulder. It had mostly healed. For the last few days, he had been often feeding Priya his own blood and her body was doing the rest, fighting off the infection successfully.

“Almost there,” he announced.

“Thank you so much, Hunter. I mean, for this story you invented to the media about the deadly infection. It worked like magic. Look at all this gifts I’ve been receiving. I was even trying this game, that will likely never come out in the stores!”

“Really?!” Lysimachus grabbed the game cover. “Come on! I’ve been waiting for this for ages! How come did you...”

Priya winked and grinned in response. For a second their eyes locked, and as the moment started to become to awkward, he changed the subject.

“By the way, you were right. Lester was next on the list.”

“Did you go to that famous strip-club he often visits?”

“Yes,” Lysimachus told. “And as you suggested, there was already this woman, set up by Gaius, ready to cause him trouble. Later, she’d take him to Gaius to finish his life. But everything is solved now and Mr. Castellanos is safe and sound in Spain.”

“Hmpfff...” Priya grunted. “You should at least let them give that perv a lesson.”

“We can deal with that later... now...” he went to his evidence board. “The Baron next?”

Priya was pensive, intrigued. She looked at him, raising her eyebrows. Lysimachus, in this short time he had been in her presence, learned to not like that look.

“What’s up?” He questioned.

“Where’s Kamilah? And Amy, mostly? That chick has which every Vampire is looking for. Shouldn’t we be keeping her locked in a safe for now?”

He didn’t answer. He hadn’t spoke to Kamilah since that night at his apartment. He didn’t feel capable of fully forgiving her yet.

“Man, you can’t be pissed at you sis, the one you’ve spent your whole life seeking for revenge for... because of this,” she pointed to her shoulder, as if the bite was nothing. “She was only playing her role. I’d have probably done worse.”

“You could’ve died.”

“And so did she. She did what she had to do, Hunter...” Priya punched him on the chest, before heading for his cabinet and grabbing an early drink. “Now about our plan, should I be proceeding with our... thing tonight?”

“No way,” Lysimachus shook his head. “You’re not completely healed yet and after what he did... I’m not risking your life again.”

“Too bad,” the Fashion Designer smirked. “I’ve already gave me Clan the orders. We are doing it.”

“You will not!”

“You’re not my man, Hunter. You can’t tell me what to do. Do you think that some creepy old ass can try to kill me and get nothing in return? You should know me better at this point, you know, before we move to the next level.”

She closed the front door behind him, going for a meeting with her Clan. Lysimachus clenched his fists in rage, before falling on the couch wondering what she meant by ‘the next level’.

----------

Kamilah

"You're not thinking straight," Adrian gave her a disapproving look. "Kamilah, there's a lot that could go wrong... what if... what if she Turns Feral? Do you remember my wife, Celia?"

Of course Kamilah did. She not only supported him during his mourning time, but she helped him to gain strength to open that coffin and stake her heart. She witnessed the beautiful Celia, who she had recently watched marry Adrian in the church, to become a pile of ashes, as her monstrous body vanished. It was a scene she’d never forget.

"Being The First Vampire's descendant? I doubt it,” if the closer to the First Vampire, less chances of becoming Feral, Amy probably had a big advantage. “It's my best option at the moment, Adrian. As mortal she's weak, fragile and barely capable of protecting herself. Also, they need her alive to make use of her blood."

"What about The Council?" Adrian ran a hand through his hair.

"I'm out of The Council, remember?"

"They could use it as an excuse to kill Amy and you, for unauthorized Turnings."

"Don't worry," Kamilah walked headed to the door. "I have you, Jax and Priya in my favor."

"A-are you counting on Priya's vote?"

"I can easily make her. After all, she owes me her life."

Some time later, she was already in her car, placing everything she'd need for the ritual. She was conflicted it was true, apart from the fear of Amy becoming Feral, she also didn't want Amy to experience most of the things she did, such as watching all her loved ones to die or becoming completely numb to the world around her, but sacrificing her wasn't an option either.

"Are we ready to go?" Amy was waiting inside the penthouse, grabbing some bags.

"You tell me. Are you ready for this, Amy? Is it what you want?"

"Yes, I've never been more sure of something in my life."

"Are you aware of the risks?" Kamilah sighed deeply, affected by Adrian’s words. "That it could go wrong and..."

"It's not happening," Amy didn't let her finish. "It worked for Lily, it'll work for me too."

"And that your feelings may change. Including for me."

"Lily haven't changed."

"You can make the decision based on somebody else's experience."

"Are you trying to change my mind or what?" Amy angered.

"No," Kamilah patiently answered. "I only want you to be sure. There's no turning back."

“One thing I’m sure, I don’t wanna die in some sick ritual.”

The next moments were tense and silent. She could tell Amy was nervous, though she was determined. It wouldn't be easy for herself either, planning the less painful manner to kill her fiancée, in order for her to be reborn as Vampire.

Suddenly, Amy jumped on top of her, kissing her feverishly. Her tongue finding a way between her lips, as her fingers tangled into her long straight hair.

"If my feelings ever change... all you have to do is remind me of this. Got it?"

"Whenever you wish."

Before going to the Hamptons, she took Amy to her office, in order to discuss the last details. First, she'd need to make sure to avoid problems with The Council.

"So you're spontaneously giving up on your mortality?" She recorded on video, in case she needed later.

"Yes," Amy answered. "In order to preserve my own life."

"Whose idea was that?"

"Mine"

"Good," Kamilah turned off the camera. "We got what we need. Now..." she stopped. "How do you want me to do it?"

"Traditionally?" Amy furrowed her brows confused. "I mean, there's no other way to Turn someone, is it?"

Kamilah sighed, taking the question straight to the point.

"I mean... how do you want me to kill you?"

"Oh."

The question hit Amy a little hard, as she hadn't considered this part yet.

"No pain," she finally spoke. "How did he kill you? Drinking all your blood, wasn't it?"

Kamilah nodded in response.

"Did that hurt?"

"Not much. I only started to feel weaker, my vision went dark and..."

Speaking about it didn't make Kamilah feel so comfortable, even after all this time.

"That's how we're doing it then."

"Okay."

They both went silent again. Tension hanging in their air, until she decided to lighten the mood.

"So, what would you like to do in your last day as mortal?"

Amy finally smiled, biting her lower lip playfully.

"I have a few ideas in mind."

----------

Amy

That was one idea Amy had in mind for a while, but Kamilah being a Vampire and the CEO of such a large company, it wasn’t possible until the moment. She blindfolded her fiancée and took control of the car.

“I don’t like any of it,” Kamilah complained from the passenger seat.

“Which part?” Amy asked, loud, her voice was being muffled by the wind entering the windows. She wanted to feel it as human one last time. “Driving your car or taking you on a mysterious place?”

“Both.”

After she removed Kamilah’s blindfold, the female Vampire rolled her eyes, unable to believe the place in front of her.

“You didn’t brought me to an amusement park.”

“Of course I did. I mean, you’ve never went on a roller-coaster ride or had an ice cone. Everyone must experience these things.”

“Mortals, Amy. Not me.”

Before any more protesting, Amy took her hand and dragged her to inside the park.

“So, what would you like to try first, the Thunderbolt, the Cyclone or the Sling- Shot?”

“I don’t understand any of the things you’ve just said.”

“Those are some of the wildest rides.”

“Whatever. You pick.”

For the rest of the morning, Amy took Kamilah to her favorite rides of the park. Though the Vampire didn’t express any excitement or fear, Amy could tell she was enjoying it. Then she took her for lunch, Kamilah stared at the food in complete disgust.

“Come on,” Amy took a bite of her corn dog, “try it. You’ll like it.”

“I’m not sure I can handle the scent of grease for another minute,” Kamilah covered her nose with her hand.

“Cheese fries then?”

Kamilah rolled her eyes, hesitantly taking one fry and putting it into her mouth.

“So?” Amy asked, expectantly.

“I feel it’s going to give me a stroke.”

“Dramatic much?”

“That’s okay, I can wash the taste away from my mouth with...” she took a sip of a can of soda. “this.”

Amy laughed and observed as Kamilah discreetly took some fries off the plate, time from time, refusing to admit they were actually delicious.

“I’m afraid to ask but,” the female vampire spoke after they finished, “what’s next?”

“Dessert, of course!”

"What kind of it?”

“We have funnel cake, deep fried Oreos...”

“Do your kind honestly needs to fry everything?” Kamilah interrupted, whining.

“Or we can have ice cones,” Amy finished.

“I’d prefer this way.”

They sat down on a bench, tasting their ice cream. Amy wrapped an arm around Kamilah’s shoulder and kissed her cheek.

“Thanks for doing this with me. I know it’s not your favorite day ever but... it means a lot.”

Kamilah was still thoughtful and not very chatty, but the corners of her mouth curled up a little.

“I’ve had worse days before.”

“I can imagine...”

“Like when you and Lily took me to that nightclub. I’m positive that hell is somewhat close to that place.”

Amy bursted into a laugh, imagining Kamilah was about to say something dark and serious.

“Oh my god, Amy,” the vampire rolled her eyes again. “Look at you, there’s ice cream in the corners of your mouth. You’re always so classy...”

Before Amy could take a napkin to clean it, Kamilah stopped her.

“I’ll handle it,” with her thumb she wiped the corners of her mouth and then sucked it gently, before pressing her lips on Amy’s.

As the evening approached, Kamilah wanted to know if she had any more requests before they go to the Hamptons’ house.

“A classic one for every couple. A kiss on the top of the Ferris Wheel.”

“We’re not really like every couple but... of course.”

----------

Kamilah

It was early in the night when they arrived at the Hamptons' house. The mood between them was nervy again, but Kamilah wanted to keep it as normal as possible, letting Amy enjoy the last hours of her mortality in the living room while she prepared everything for the Turning ritual in one of the bedrooms.

"You've done it a thousand times," she repeated to herself. "It's just the same."

But it wasn't. Amy wasn't any mortal, she was the First Vampire's descendant, the results of her Turning experience were unknown. Adrian thought she could become a powerful being. With a pure blood, she could become so strong as Kamilah herself, or even Gaius.

"Kamilah," Amy yelled from the living room, "I'm starving. Is there any food in this house?"

Kamilah rolled her eyes, wondering if as Vampire her hunger would also be enhanced.

"I forgot about it... why don't you order some pizza?"

While the girl celebrated, she felt her stomach twist. She never had such a large amount of junk food in one day.

Everything was prepared. After dinner she'd drive Amy to the bedroom, where she'd drink a goblet of her blood. Then, Kamilah would suck her blood completely, until her death, and place her inside a coffin, where she'd remain for the next six hours while she did the last arrangements.

She hadn't told Lysimachus about their plan. She had no idea of her brother's opinion about it. As he read Wright's complete research, he could know things about Amy's gift she didn't know, and prevent her from doing a mistake.

Against her will, Kamilah dialed his number. It was turned off. It was always turned off when he was too busy with Priya.

"Screw them," Kamilah angered. "I can make it on my own."

The door bell rang. She hear Amy going to answer. It should be her pizza. In at least an hour, they'd begin the Turning ritual.

Kamilah took a deep breath and walked to the living room, trying to appear confident.

"Amy," she shouted. "You left the door unlocked again. How many times do I have to tell you we're not in your cozy little town?"

She didn't answer. She probably had a mouthful of pizza in the kitchen.

"You didn't even wait..." For her surprise, Amy wasn't in the kitchen either. "Amy?!"

Kamilah looked outside, in the lounge, in the backyard and even on the beach. Amy was nowhere to be found. A chill went down her spine.

The bell rang again. She opened the door, expecting to find her fiancée but...

"Here's your pizza. Ms. Parker, right?"

"N-No... it was a prank. Sorry."

She quickly closed the door and grabbed her car keys and cell phone, attempting to reach her brother as she drove.

She only had one destination in mind. That one small beach town in Jersey.

----------

Lysimachus

"Don't get over excited, please," Lysimachus begged to Priya through the audio plug.

"Hunter, this is my kind of place! Look at this... How couldn't I have such a morbid idea before? Mortals vs. Vampires would boost my parties!"

Somewhere near the club, he pretended he was not listening.

"Baby steps," he thought. She wouldn't suddenly change all her views and behaviors. The fact she hadn't betrayed them or that she was able to stay away from parties and orgies for almost two months was a great achievement.

"Whose idea do you think was that? It was certainly not Gaius'."

"Probably the bar owner's, after he was hypnotized."

"Okay..." she took a breath, calming herself. "What's the next step?"

"Finish watching the games, make your presence to be noticed and go to Anya, ask her to take you to her boss."

"Noted."

Lysimachus still wasn't secure about this plan. Before Gaius' attack on Priya, the findings about the ritual and his fight with Kamilah, everything was certain. Now there was a lot that could go wrong. Lives were at risk.

"If he tries anything remember our safeword. I'll be down there in a blink of an eye."

Priya grunted on the other side of the device.

"Stop with the overprotection. I can take care of myself."

"But..."

"I mean it, Hunter. One more time and I'll turn off the plug."

"Okay."

"Go take a walk, Hunter. The show is about to begin. Go get us some girl for later... Bye!"

Lysimachus ignored her words again and started driving around on his motorcycle. He momentarily turned off the device, refusing to hear Gaius' horror circus. It was too much for him.

He went to the town's library, to read some of its history. The place was highly known for its supernatural events and the presence of strange forces. Jameson should know that. No wonder he had picked that place to hide Gaius.

He turned on his cell phone, to keep himself informed of the events in New York. As The Baron refused to cooperate, he sent Jax to keep an eye on him. He and Priya had a hunch that he was Gaius' next target.

For his shock, he had about 20 missed calls, from his sister.

"Kamilah, what's wrong? I'm in Jersey and I just saw..."

"Don't move!" She yelled from the other side of the line. "I'm going there. He... He took Amy."

"How? Does he even know she's back?"

"I don't know. She mysteriously vanished from the Hamptons' house, while I was busy with... something else. Something that could save her."

Lysimachus noticed his sister and discreetly crying.

“Okay, I-I... I’ll meet you on the road.”

"Fuck," he punched the table and headed back to his initial location, near the Midnight Lounge. "Priya? Can you hear me?"

"Yeah, this thing is better than I've ever imagined! After we defeat Gaius I'm calling dibs on this bar."

"Stay alert, he kidnapped Amy. Find your way down there, quick!"

"B-But and then? Am I supposed to save her?"

"Give your best show. I'll stay here listening."

----------

Amy

"Let me go, your son of a bitch," Amy screamed as Harvey threw her inside a dark room. "Traitor! Kamilah is going to kill you!"

"That's a really noisy one," the male Vampire complained as Jameson joined him. “I expect a raise after this service."

"Hello, Amy. It's a pleasure to see you again."

"Oh?! Aren't you a back-stabber son of a bitch? I always thought you were a weirdo, Jameson. It's a shame no one else could see it!"

"Can you please silence her?" Harvey begged. "If I have to hear her voice for another second, I..."

"The Master wants her perfectly intact for the proceedings."

"Again?" Amy rolled her eyes, wondering if they were part of Keaseth's cult. Of course, bringing his Maker back would bring Gaius a lot of benefits.

She couldn't believe it was happening. How did they even find out she was back?

"Of course," she remembered Jameson had a lot of mind skills, telepathy should be one of them. He was the mysterious person at the bar. "How could I be so stupid?"

Another figure entered the room, a female. She recognized her from Ahmanet Financial. That should be Anya.

"The King wants us in the main hall," she announced. "We've got something big to happen."

"But who's going to keep an eye on this thing?" Harvey asked.

"Just leave her. It's only a mortal, it’s not like she's going anywhere."

"Good point."

The three vampires closed the door, leaving her alone inside the dark room. With both of her hands and feet tied, she needed to find a way to free herself.

First, she moved her hands repeatedly, loosening the rope around her wrists. Then, she crawled on the floor where pieces from a shattered glass bottle were lying.

"I just have to..." Amy placed herself near the glass, grabbing the sharpest piece she could find and trying to rub it on the ropes repeatedly. "Come on... cut it... cut it..."

She insisted, until she was finally free. After untying her ankles, she carefully approached the door, opening it only a little bit. Gaius was having an important meeting with...

"Priya?!"

Amy watched as the Fashion Designer entered the main hall, escorted by four members of her Clan, clapping.

"Congratulations, Old Ass. Not even my twisted mind could have planned such a sick attraction. I'm impressed."

"What are you doing here?' Gaius snarled. "You were supposed to be..."

"Dead? And so were you."

"What do you want? Did you come here to defy me?"

"The opposite... I'm here to offer you a partnership. I've heard you need an army, don't you? I'm offering my Clan."

"In trade of?"

"Power. I'm done playing with losers! Do you know what Lysimachus is planning? An ambush, with his little magic tricks! As if they even worked, we're not in Hogwarts, jeez. We're Vampires. Bloodsucking creatures."

Gaius stared at her in silence for a brief moment before his eyes turned red in anger.

"I don't trust you. Remember you helped to trap me inside that sarcophagus?"

"What was I supposed to do? Adam offered me power, money... it was a win-win situation, babe."

"How do I know you're not part of the ambush? I'm aware of your liaisons with that... boy."

Amy noticed he clenched his fist in extreme rage as he spoke about Lysimachus.

"Who told you that?" Priya let out a small laugh. "Kamilah? Because... you know Kamilah isn't hypnotized at all, don’t you? She comes here, lies to you, collect info and take to The Council."

"Traitor!" Amy spoke in low voice. "Kamilah was right all along!"

"So, what do you say?" Priya started walking around Gaius in circles, as he was conflicted with the latest news. "I could be your new Queen. I have way more to offer than she does..."

Suddenly, Anya looked at her direction, noticing she was peeking through the door.

"Hey!" She yelled, coming in her direction.

Amy slammed the door closed, thinking she only had one chance to escape. She remembered some lessons Lysimachus gave her, about hunting Vampires.

As Anya entered the room, Amy stabbed her right in the chest with the sharp glass. It wasn't enough to kill her yet, but she got what she needed, her blood. Before cutting off her head and watch her become a pile of ash, she drank some of it.

"I think I'm going to puke," she thought.

By this time, she was surrounded. By Harvey, Jameson, Priya and... Gaius. It was the first time she was seeing him in person. He looked even more intimidating and evil than in her visions.

"Don't be afraid, Amy. It's not time for that..." she told herself.

"Your useless bastards!" Gaius angered. "I know I shouldn't have trusted you to capture her! I need her precious blood to make me stronger. After this, I'll gain all the powers Keaseth possessed!"

"Or not!" Amy yelled, pointing the glass to her own neck. "I've drank a lot of Anya's blood before killing her, you know? If I kill myself, it's over, isn't it? As a Vampire my blood becomes useless!"

Priya eyes went wide and she shook her head, as if she was telling her to not do that.

"One more step and I..."

From the back, Priya impaled one of Lysimachus poisoned stakes in Gaius' heart, giving her Clan members time enough to fight Harvey and Jameson.

In a flash, she grabbed Amy by the hand and took her outside the bar.

“Girl, you’re crazy as shit,” she said. “H-How could you...”

“You...” Amy answered between pants, “betrayed... us...”

“It was part of the plan! If you and Kamilah hadn’t been so stubborn about it, you’d know. Now you've ruined everything!”

“Oh. What about the part where you ratted Kamilah? Was it part of your plan with Lysimachus too?"

“Please,” Priya rolled her eyes, “he’d know eventually. I had to find a way to get into him."

Coming from the same direction, they spotted Lysimachus’ motorcycle and Kamilah’s car. Amy signaled them to stop and she entered the car, along Priya.

“Drive away, quick,” the Fashion Designer ordered. “I staked him.”

“You did what?!” Lysimachus yelled from the audio plug.

“Shit hit the fan, of course. Amy pulled a crazy move, threatening to kill herself and become a Vampire, I took the opportunity and... bang! I told you it wasn't the best moment to have a twin squabble with your sister."

“But to become a Vampire,” Kamilah was curious, “she’d have to drink one’s blood.”

Amy looked at her with puppy dog eyes. She knew Kamilah wouldn’t be happy with the news.

“Please, don’t be mad at me. I killed Anya, it was my life or hers... so...”

“Okay.” Kamilah sighed deeply. "I supposed I can find somebody else for my Marketing Department."

“That was brave of you, Amy! Did you pull the moves I taught you?” Lysimachus wanted to know.

“Hell yeah! First I stabbed her then I went straight to the neck.”

“I’m sorry to ruin the Vampire Hunter party, but where are we headed?" Kamilah interrupted. "We can’t go back to New York, Gaius will come straight at us.”

“I agree, sister. But I still need to get my weapons, we’re gonna need them more than ever.”

“I have an idea,” Priya spoke from the passenger seat. “Let me drive, Kamilah.”

----------

Kamilah

"What is this place?" Kamilah asked. "Is it yours?"

Priya drove them to a small, secluded mansion in the surroundings of New York. It seemed a good place to hide, but she still didn't trust the Fashion Designer.

"No, it was Adam's," she answered. "Sometimes he'd bring me here and we..."

"I don't need to hear that."

“I’m gonna get a drink” Priya announced. “Are you joining?”

“In a moment.”

Amy was quiet and worried, looking through the window. Kamilah embraced her from behind, offering some comfort.

"Are you alright, Amy?"

"I'll be. I'm still kinda in shock, you know? Being kidnapped, having to kill your Clan member and... seeing him in person. He's even more scary and powerful than I thought."

"And yet," Kamilah placed a soft kiss on her neck, "you fought braver than most of the Vampires that had to face him."

“I learned from the best,” Amy turned around and smiled. "What about you? How are you coping?"

"I'll only feel completely relieved when my brother is here."

A few minutes later, a car parked in front of the mansion leaving Lysimachus and a metal crate, full of combat weapons. When he entered the house, his expression was from pure fear.

"Brother, is everything okay? No one followed you, right?"

"No, I dropped my bike at a parking lot and hired a car service. But... I have terrible news."

She, Amy and Priya watched him expectantly.

"He's striking hard, guys. He has killed The Baron and taken his Clan."

"It's not such a big loss," Priya commented. "At least we don't have to worry about that pig betraying us anymore. Besides, you wiped most of his Clan members last year, remember?"

"It's not the worst part, he has also attacked the Shadow Den. Dozens of Vampires were killed."

"Oh no," Amy got alarmed. "Lily! Please, tell me she's fine."

"She, Jax and part of their group were able to escape and hide in a warehouse."

"What about Adrian?" Kamilah wanted to know. "Have you warned him?"

"Sure, he safely locked inside Raines Corporation. He offered his aid on the battle, in case we need him."

Lysimachus stopped and took a deep breath.

"It's a matter of time until he starts a mass-killing on mortals. We need to act quick."

"So, what's the plan now?" Priya asked.

"I have none yet..."

"But I do," Amy stood up from the couch. "We're doing the ritual."

Next: When Amy is willing to sacrifice herself to defeat Gaius, the gang will count on an unexpected ally... and on luck! Stay tuned!