#these ideas make me have to fight my inner cringe demon :I | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

daenqyu · 4 years ago

Text

promise me | bakugou katsuki

( gif isn’t mine !! credits go to @birds-have-teeth )

pairing: bakugou x fem!reader

genre: angsty fluff

summary: you’re used to dealing with your problems all on your own, but sometimes the weight becomes too heavy. and just when you feel like you’re about to fall, bakugou is always there to steady you back on your feet.

warnings: suicidal thoughts, descriptions of a panic attack, dark thoughts in general

word count: 3.2k

a/n: at first i wasn’t gonna post this because it was more of a comfort fic for me since i’ve been struggling a lot recently and bakugou is my comfort character, but i thought this could make other people feel better too so yeah :)

small disclaimer: this is completely based on my OWN, PERSONAL experience !!!!! if you ever experience suicidal thoughts, please seek help; you’re not alone. and you’re loved. you’re worth it.

IT was too much. you couldn’t handle it. you thought you could and that’s why you decided to not tell anyone, especially not bakugou. he knew about your struggles and burdens; at some point in your relationship you decided you felt comfortable enough to share that part of yourself with him and even tho he couldn’t really understand all of your emotions, he was still very supportive. but of course that didn’t mean you told him everything. sure, you trusted him with your life and you knew he would never judge you, but that wasn’t enough to make the voices in your head go away.

for a while everything seemed to be fine, you had managed to keep yourself distracted enough to not have to be alone with your thoughts. whether it was hanging out with friends, going on dates with bakugou, or watching tv shows, you were always busy with something. but there’s only so much one can do to stop themselves from thinking, or in your case, overthinking.

the nights were the worst. normally you’d watch random videos until your eyes started hurting from the brightness of you phone and then go to bed, but there were times when even that wasn’t enough. when not even heavy metal songs could be as loud as your dark thoughts, and they only seemed to intensify the more you tried to push them away. you tossed and turned on bed in hopes of eventually tiring yourself out, yet you ended up sitting on the mattress with hot tears streaming down your cheeks as you tried your best to catch your breathing.

all the emotions you suppressed for months now suddenly came crashing down on you, forcing you to face your inner demons and making you realize just how not okay you were. you couldn’t quite pinpoint what was bothering you so much; it was everything, yet nothing at the same time. it was about you, but also everyone else in your life. it was about not knowing who you were, about losing yourself and not really knowing what you were doing with your life. it was about thinking you were a failure, yet better than most people. it was confusing. and it was eating you alive.

your hands tugged at your hair so tight a part of you was afraid you were gonna rip it off and your chin rested on your knees as you brought them up to your chest in a feeble attempt to hug yourself.

this always happens. stop making such a big deal about it. why are you even crying? you’re so ungrateful. such an attention seeker. completely pathetic. why is bakugou even dating you? he might as well leave you for someone better. prettier. smarter.

loud sobs left your mouth as your thoughts mentally destroyed you, your insecurities getting the best of you. but it was more than that. this wasn’t just about not feeling good enough or thinking you didn’t deserve your boyfriend. it was about thinking you would be better off. after all you were just a bother, right? you would be doing everyone a favor if you just fucking did it, but you couldn’t. you wouldn’t. because you were scared. because you were a coward.

at some point it became too much, you could barely even breathe and your chest was hurting, or maybe it was your heart, along with your head, which’s pounding had become almost unbearable. your eyes burned from all the crying and you could feel the puffiness beginning to form around them. with trembling hands and blurry vision, you took your phone in your hands and dialed the only person you knew was capable of helping you in a situation like this.

the blonde haired boy groaned when he heard his phone ringing from the nightstand next to his bed. he rubbed his eyes before mentally insulting whoever was calling him so fucking late at night, but just as he was about to start screaming onto the phone’s speaker, he saw your name flash across the screen and his whole expression changed in less that a second. because you were his exception to everything.

“y/n? do you know what fucking time it is? this better be-” he didn’t get to finish his sentence when a sob coming from your end interrupted him. suddenly he was up and about, his eyes widening as he sat on his bed, all the sleepiness he felt moments ago disappearing at the heartbreaking sound. “are you- are you crying?”

“k-katsuki,” he cringed, hating the way your voice sounded so broken and not like your usual self. and while he didn’t know what was going on exactly, he had a pretty good idea.

“i’m here,” he tried to assure you, but he hated how your sobs only got louder after that. “what happened? are you okay?”

“no. it’s bad,” you couldn’t bring yourself to lie to him, not when you needed him the most. “i’m s-sorry for calling you so late, i-”

“you don’t have to apologize. i wasn’t that tired anyways,” he bit his lower lip, debating on what he should do next. “do you want me to come over?”

“yes,” you didn’t even hesitate; it almost sounded like you were begging and bakugou could feel his breath hitching in his throat for a moment. “please, i need you.” that was all he needed to hear before he hung up, throwing the phone on his desk as he hurriedly put on whatever shirt he had laying around, not bothering to put shoes on. he didn’t have time to think about some stupid footwear. he stumbled while running towards your dorm room, not giving a fuck about how loud his steps were or if he could wake up his classmates.

much to his luck, your room wasn’t that far away from his so he got there in less than two minutes. he could feel his heart hammering against his chest as his hand gripped the door’s knob, but he didn’t waste any time before turning it around and letting himself inside. the sight before his eyes made something inside bakugou break. you were sitting down on the floor with your knees up to your chest, hands clutching your head tightly as choked sobs kept leaving your mouth. and he hated it. he hated it because he knew exactly how you felt; the same way he felt every night when he was alone in the confines of his room and his thoughts were the only thing keeping him company.

you hadn’t noticed him, too focused on trying not to pass out, so he made his way over to you slowly in order to not startle you. he kneeled down in front of you, quickly recalling the website he had read a few days ago that talked about what to do when a person was having a panic attack. his hand gently touched your shoulder, careful not to scare you, and while you still flinched at the sudden touch, your expression somewhat softened after seeing it was none other than your boyfriend.

“hey beautiful,” he smiled softly at you, or at least tried his best since all he wanted to do was scream and fight someone. because you didn’t deserve this. someone as kind as you didn’t deserve to go through all this shit. “can you hear me?” you nodded, tears still running down your cheeks and your whole body trembling. “good, now let’s take a few deep breaths,” he inhaled deeply before exhaling, wanting you to repeat his actions and you tried. your hands stopped gripping your scalp, instead opting for bakugou’s arms, which were at each side of you as they held onto your shoulders. “you’re doing great, just focus on me okay? only me.” you nodded once again, still trying to ease your breathing pattern as you stared into his beautiful vermilion eyes, the ones that always managed to intimidate you (in a good way of course).

after a few more minutes of breathing exercises, you managed to stop the pants that came out of your mouth, but tears still ran down your cheeks as the thoughts never ceased, perhaps getting louder and louder with every passing second. you wanted nothing more than to close your eyes and curl yourself into a ball, but you knew that wasn’t gonna solve anything. so you kept holding on to your boyfriend’s arms, as if he was the only thing holding you down to earth.

this better fucking work, bakugou thought to himself before he spoke up again, “y/n, can you tell me five things you can see?”

“you,” talking was still hard, yet you forced yourself to look around the room and answer his question correctly. “my p-phone, the desk, d-dirty laundry, and,” all this thinking made the pounding in your head worse, but at least you weren’t focusing on the voices. “my stuffed t-teddy bear.”

“hm, four things you can touch?” one of his hands tenderly gripped your shoulder, his eyes never leaving yours.

“y-you, your shirt, the c-carpet, and m-my pj’s.” the dizziness in your head started to come to a halt and you sniffled, thankful that bakugou was able to make things better. like always.

“that’s it, you’re doing so well. now three things you can hear?” his head turned around to leave an innocent kiss on the skin of your forearm, his gaze still focused on your face.

“your voice, t-the rain, and the air conditioner.” the feeling of bakugou’s lips made you come back to your senses slowly but surely. now your hands were the only thing trembling, not your whole body.

“you’re almost there baby, two things you can smell?”

“my diffuser and your perfume,” a small smile made its way to your lips as you breathed in his scent, letting out a pleasant sigh as the smell filled your nostrils. “caramel.”

bakugou scoffed, a soft blush splashed across his cheeks as he looked away from you for a moment.

“one thing you can taste?”

you took in a deep breath, not really knowing what to answer until you licked your lips and tasted the familiar sweetness of your chapstick, “cherry.” your grip on bakugou’s arm loosened, but still lingered there. he let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding in, feeling a big weight off his shoulders knowing you could breathe properly again, but he was still bothered by the situation.

“dumbass, don’t ever scare me like that again.” his words were rather rough yet you knew he meant no harm, you knew he was genuinely scared for your well being and that was just his way of voicing out his concern.

“i’m sorry.”

“what did i tell you about apologizing all the damn time?” he groaned, letting his arms fall to his sides as your hands came up to wipe your remaining tears away. you sent him an apologetic smile before sighing, squeezing your eyes shut as you tried to wrap your head around everything that happened.

meanwhile, bakugou stared intently at you, wondering whether or nor he should ask what caused the sudden outburst. he didn’t want to make you feel worse, but if he knew you like he thought he did (which he does), you’d probably end up bottling everything inside until you had another breakdown. and he’ll be damned if he ever let’s that happen again.

silently, he crawled towards you. and once he was close enough, he positioned himself behind you so you could sit on his lap and you happily complied. you cuddled your face against his warm chest, enjoying the comfort it provided, and bakugou placed his chin on top of your head, keeping you close to him. you stayed like that for a few minutes, just basking in each other’s presence, but in reality bakugou was just giving you some more time to calm down before pestering you with questions that could possibly overwhelm you.

“you want to talk about it?” he was still keeping his tone low and gentle; anyone who heard him would’ve been extremely confused by his sudden change in demeanor. because he could be a lot of things, but gentle was not one of them. then again, you were his exception. you were different.

“i...don’t know,” your hands played with the hem of his black tank top, eyebrows furrowed together as you tried to find the right words to describe your internal turmoil. “it’s just...everything piling up and never knowing what to do,” bakugou leaned down to place a kiss on your temple, quietly letting you know that he wasn’t going anywhere, and somehow, that made you want to cry all over again. “you know when you get really tired of yourself and your life?” he hesitantly nodded, not knowing where you were going with this. “well i feel like that everyday. a-and sometimes i think it would all be better if i disappeared.”

it took him approximately 5 seconds to get what you exactly meant by disappearing, but when he did boy was he mad. his eyebrows furrowed and his grip on you tightened, an annoyed, yet concerned expression evident on his face. how could you say that? you were his everything, the only one who could calm him down, the one who made him smile by just breathing; his light. he wouldn’t know what to do without you, hell he didn’t even want to imagine it.

“you’re such an idiot,” a smile tugged your lips at his harsh choice of words, the complete opposite of the hold he had on you. “you listen to me because you know how much i hate repeating myself,” one of his hands grabbed your chin softly, yet firmly as he tilted your head to make you look at him directly. “feeling like this is not your fault. i know that it’s easier to blame yourself for everything that goes wrong in your life, trust me, i know. but there are things in life that we just can’t control and most definitely aren’t responsible for.”

you scoffed, “well you’re one to talk.”

“tch, such a smartass, aren’t you?” bakugou rolled his eyes at your remark. “that’s exactly why i’m telling you all this, dumbass. because i don’t want you to go through what i did, especially when you have me by your side to help you.” your eyes widened at his sweet confession, gaze softening at the boy in front of you. he avoided it, looking to the side with rosy cheeks.

“katsuki…” you lowered your voice, lifting your hand to place it on bakugou’s cheek and your heart jumped when he looked at you. his eyes reflected nothing but pure love and adoration, and you were sure yours were the exact same. without saying another word, you kissed him softly, fingers caressing his soft skin. the kiss was short and innocent, but it made bakugou smile ever so slightly.

“let me finish,” he said once you pulled away and the determination in his voice made you nod, knowing he needed to say whatever was on his mind. “i know there’s nothing i can do to make your pain disappear or for you to change your mindset because that’s not how it works. but i am and will always be here for you. i don’t give a shit if you think you’re gonna bother me or if it’s late or if you think it’s something stupid, you just tell me. and if the thoughts continue then maybe we can even get a professional to help you, but please don’t give up on me.” the crack in his voice at the end of his sentence made your heart stutter.

both of your hands cradled bakugou’s face, your eyes desperately looking for his once again. when he finally looked at you, you saw the tears threatening to fall from his eyes and how hard he was trying to hold himself back from breaking down. he needed to be strong. he couldn’t be weak in front of you. you were the one who needed to be comforted, not him. so with those thoughts in mind, bakugou sniffled and roughly wiped the unshed tears away. but you didn’t move from your place.

“so promise me,” he pulled you impossibly close, your faces barely inches apart. “promise me you won’t give up, that you’ll fight and be stronger than your demons because you fucking are. you’re so much stronger than you think, shit you’re probably stronger than me!” your eyes widened, surprised he even said something like that, but knowing he 100% meant it. because bakugou didn’t lie. “promise me.”

you nodded multiple times, taking out your pinky to show him you were serious about this. and while bakugou thought you couldn’t be any more childish, he still grinned and interlaced his own pinky with yours, “i promise.”

“good, now let’s sleep because i’m tired as fuck.” you rolled your eyes at the sudden change in attitude.

“knew it was too good to be true.” he raised an eyebrow at your comment, standing up to lay down on your bed, the soft sheets welcoming him with your scent.

“the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“nothing, let’s just sleep.” you sent him a smile before laying down next to him, his arms quickly wrapping themselves around your waist to pull you even closer.

you turned around in his hold to properly look at him. his head rested comfortably against the pillow, his hair messy and sticking up in all different directions, while his eyes lazily looked over at you. he looked angelic, ethereal even. without thinking it twice, you ran one of your hands through his hair, giggling when he let out a happy hum and gripped your hips, as if telling you to keep going. he looked so pretty, lips slightly pouty as he forced himself to stay awake for a little longer. at least until you fell asleep.

“wanna know something really cheesy?” he sounded tired and you felt bad for keeping him awake so late when he probably had a long day. nevertheless, you hummed and continued to comb your fingers through his hair. “you’re fucking amazing. absolutely mesmerizing,” bakugou opened his eyes to look at you better, a small smile tugging his lips upwards as he saw your flushed expression, trying to look away from him, but he didn’t let you. “i love you, y/n.”

he’s said it before, and you should be used to it by now, but it never fails to make you heat up and feel all fuzzy inside. bakugou looks so serious, because he wants you to know he truly means it, yet so soft at the same time and you know this isn’t easy for him. he doesn’t like showing his vulnerable side to people, thinking it makes him weak, so to have him open up to you and declare his love for you so openly makes you feel special. because you’re the only one who knows this side of him.

“i love you more, katsuki.” another genuine smile grazes bakugou’s lips after hearing you call him by his first name, your voice sweet like honey.

he presses a kiss on your forehead as he lets you snuggle up against him, “go to sleep, i’ll be here when you wake up.”

that night, you slept peacefully, knowing you’re safe in bakugou’s arms. you don’t know what tomorrow or any other day holds for you, but if you have him by your side, you know you can overcome anything.

834 notes · View notes

latte-fairytaekwoon · 4 years ago

Text

𝓢𝓲𝓷𝓯𝓾𝓵 𝓓𝓾𝓽𝔂 (𝓓𝓮𝓶𝓸𝓷! 𝓚𝓪𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓮𝓸𝓼𝓪𝓷𝓰)

𝓟𝓪𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰: 𝓓𝓮𝓶𝓸𝓷! 𝓚𝓪𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓮𝓸𝓼𝓪𝓷𝓰 (𝓐𝓽𝓮𝓮𝔃) × 𝓡𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻 (𝓕𝓮𝓶𝓪𝓵𝓮)

𝓖𝓮𝓷𝓻𝓮: 𝓐𝓷𝓰𝓼𝓽, 𝓢𝓶𝓾𝓽, 𝓕𝓵𝓾𝓯𝓯, 𝓓𝓮𝓶𝓸𝓷 𝓐𝓤

𝓦𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓒𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽: 4.7𝓚

𝓢𝓾𝓶𝓶𝓪𝓻𝔂: 𝓘𝓷 𝓮𝔁𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓮 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓼𝓸𝓾𝓵, 𝓱𝓮 𝔀𝓪𝓼 𝓼𝓾𝓶𝓶𝓸𝓷𝓮𝓭 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓸 𝓼𝓮𝓻𝓿𝓮 𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓪𝓼 𝓵𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓪𝓼 𝓼𝓱𝓮 𝓵𝓲𝓿𝓮𝓭 𝓸𝓷 𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓽𝓱, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓱𝓮 𝓹𝓵𝓪𝓷𝓼 𝓽𝓸 𝓯𝓾𝓵𝓯𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻𝔂 𝓭𝓾𝓽𝔂 𝓽𝓸 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓜𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓼....𝓷𝓸 𝓶𝓪𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓱𝓸𝔀 𝓰𝓻𝓾𝓮𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮, 𝓭𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓸𝓻 𝓼𝓲𝓷𝓯𝓾𝓵 𝓲𝓽 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝓫𝓮.

𝓦𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼: 𝓥𝓲𝓸𝓵𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓮, 𝓫𝓵𝓸𝓸𝓭, 𝓭𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓱, 𝓫𝓸𝓷𝓭𝓪𝓰𝓮, 𝓼𝓮𝓷𝓼𝓸𝓻𝔂 𝓹𝓵𝓪𝔂, 𝔀𝓪𝔁 𝓹𝓵𝓪𝔂, 𝓲𝓶𝓹𝓪𝓬𝓽 𝓹𝓵𝓪𝔂, 𝓾𝓷𝓹𝓻𝓸𝓽𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓼𝓮𝔁 (𝓪𝓵𝔀𝓪𝔂𝓼 𝓾𝓼𝓮 𝓹𝓻𝓸𝓽𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷), 𝓼𝓸𝓯𝓽 𝓪𝓯𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓬𝓪𝓻𝓮.

𝓣𝓪𝓰 𝓛𝓲𝓼𝓽: @yunhoiseyecandy @multidreams-and-desires @hanatiny @galaxteez

࿇ ══━━━━✥◈✥━━━━══ ࿇

A blank expression was plastered on the immortal's red tinted lips that matched the hue of the liquid that he was swirling around in the glass cup between his fingers, as usual. His deep and husky voice was humming an eerie and macabre tune as his eyes pierced down at the city below him. To the naked eye it would seem as though he was staring into nothing, the only thing visible was the monumental skyscraper that overlooked the apartment complex he currently cohabited in. But his eyes were very much focused, watching over the tiny figure that was currently walking just a few blocks away from where his building was. They walked around so casually, not looking anywhere behind them or with any sense of alert. It is a rather dangerous area even if it was one of the more luxurious places in the city, and yet the figure continued their trail back home without giving any cares in the world.......not seeing the hooded figures that had been meticulously trailing right behind them, waiting for their opportunity to strike, which came mere moments after they had turned into a dark and abandoned alley.

The being's lips curled into an amused smirk as he felt and watched the pentagram mark on his wrist, usually hidden away under the long sleeved of his dress shirts, light up in a bright scarlet color, the Y in the middle shining the brightest. Unrolling his sleeves, he carefully adjusted his vest and re-did the silk tie that was around his neck, as if he had all the time in the world......

Which he probably did.

"Off to fulfill my duties I guess."

In a mere blink of his eyes, he was instantly in that dark alley, still unseen by the ruffians who were currently apprehending the damsel who even in her distress was putting up a rather good resistance. Deducing it was now his cue to enter, he stepped out of the shadows and came into their vicinity.

"My, my, quite a rather scandalous and rowdy lot of you, causing such an improper and shocking scene in this time of night. Shame, shame." He spoke out in a calm demeanor.

While the group of bandits looked at him in surprise and anger at being witnessed in their crime, the woman had both an unamused and annoyed look on her features.

"You're late." She directed at the sharply dressed male.

"My apologies Lady Y/N, I promise it won't happen again." He bowed to her, fighting back the urge to snicker as he knew very well it would not be the last time.

The thugs held up their knives closer to the woman's neck and even pointed one at him.

"I suggest you walk away now while you still have a chance you overly dressed penguin boy. Don't try to play the hero or you'll get that pretty little throat of yours slit open." One of them warned.

The blonde haired male let out an offended scoff, hand going up to his chest to show his indignation.

"Why my kind sir, believe me I had absolutely no intention of playing the hero. That is absolutely beneath me!...."

Putting his hands behind him, he looked at them with a deadpanned expression.

"Now talk to me about being the villain.....then we're speaking my language."

In an instant, without knowing how, the male charged at an inhuman speed towards them, knocking them out before going back to his previous place, this time his arms carrying the woman in a bridal style motion. He looked down at her, awaiting the next instructions.

"Home. Now." She demanded.

"Of course My Lady."

He began turning around to make way home, but halted when he felt and heard the men behind him load up and point guns at him. He let out a deep sigh.

"All I wanted was to fulfill my duty as the trusted servant of my Mistress but you guys seemed hell bent on making that impossible....."

Shrugging, he gently placed the girl down for a moment on the pavement.

"So be it."

When he heard the shots fired, he stuck his left hand out, trapping all of the bullets in between his fingers, shocking the ones who had fired them and making them marvel at the spectacle. The male turned around and inspected the bullets he currently held.

"Truly interesting, I must compliment your choice of weapons my criminal comrades. You could have certainly sent even the strongest of men straight to their death with just one of these aimed at the proper body part....."

As he looked back at them, they shivered when his eyes changed color.

"Allow me to demonstrate."

Flinging the bullets back at them, they all resonated like a thunder strike as they pierced through the thugs' chest, into their hearts, hitting accurately on a vital vein that had them dead before their bodies even hit the ground. The inhuman creature's nose crinkled in disgust at the mess that was left behind.

"What a filthy scene. As if the world didn't already have hoards of rubbish and filth to clean up on the daily." He shook his head.

"Ahem!"

The light yet impatient tapping of a foot reminded him that he was not alone and that he still had one task left.

"Ahh yes. Home now I suppose. Would my Lady prefer to be transported or would she wish to soar high above in the air?" He offered.

"I'm not in the mood to be out here in society anymore." She huffed out.

He smiled enthusiastically at that, hands rubbing together.

"Excellent choice my Lady. Please don't fret. I'll see to it immediately."

He stepped forward to her, about to take her hand when she stopped him.

"And Yeosang? I had a bad day.........you know what to do."

He couldn't help the spark that always ran down his spine when she said those words. Using one arm to pull her body against his, he looked at her intensely, eyes already ravishing her body.

"Yes my Lady."

࿇ ══━━━━✥◈✥━━━━══ ࿇

The demon's hands carefully worked to finish tying the rather intricate and aesthetic knots on the red rope that kept the woman in front of him from moving. Taking a step back, he began to admire her body fully displayed for him, arms and legs tied to each of the corners of the bed. Although she was as naked as the day she was born, save a large black lace choker decorating her neck, he still donned his fancy uniform, except his charcoal vest and tie, that signified his devotion and commitment to her. Even if it wasn't necessary to wear it, Yeosang loved the classy and elegant vibe that it gave him, and besides.....

He knew his Mistress went crazy for him in a suit and tie, especially on occasions like these.

Rolling up his sleeves, he crept closer to her, noticing how she was paying careful attention to any sound she heard since her eyes were covered by the satin black blindfold Yeosang loved using. His fingers gripped her jaw as he bent down and kissed her passionately, mouth enclosing over hers, tongue swiping over her lips. When she felt his wet muscle, she could not resist the urge to pull it into her mouth. He let out an aroused hum as she sucked on it and began to take control of the kiss, slipping her tongue in his mouth so it could roam around in it. She whined softly when he pulled back mid makeout session.

"My dear lady, although you've certainly become an independent and dominant woman, need I remind you you're at my mercy at the moment, so any ideas of taking over should be scraped immediately."

Catching her bottom lip between his front teeth, he bit down on it and gave it a harsh suck as he pulled off her completely.

"Don't worry my beautiful Mistress. I'll make sure my depraved actions leave you in a utmost pleasure any human can imagine. Just remember the safe word if it gets too intense."

But he knew as well as she did that there'd be no need for that. He was a master at what he did, always careful not to cause any unnecessary pain. Not that she minded, she was a little masochist at times.

His hand opened the black treasure chest that was currently on top of the dresser. Already having prepped what he had in mind for their playtime in the little red room, his hand picked up the vanilla lavender scented body oil. He purposefully popped off the lid with a loud sound, letting it fall onto the floor to make as much noise as possible. As expected, Y/N's neck stretched out towards the direction of the noise, trying to figure out what exactly was happening. She could smell the faint scent of the oil but still could not point out where it came from. Her chest shook and her breath hitched when she felt something being poured over breasts, the liquid traveling down her sternum with some of it falling into her belly button. Yeosang didn't stop there as he then poured a bit more onto her inner thighs and on the mound of her womanhood. When she felt some of it roll off her body and onto the sheets underneath her, she slightly cringed.

"I'll clean them up as usual my lady. Don't worry about that. Right now, please just relax and leave all of you to me."

His fingers delicately caressed her chin before gliding down her neck, tugging at the choker around her. He took her by surprise when his hands cupped her breasts so suddenly. Slowly, he began to squeeze and knead at them, thumbs circling all over her erect nipples. He couldn't keep his away, entirely consumed in spreading the oil all over them.

"So pretty....so beautiful...."

Y/N smiled at his praises. Her demon boy toy had made it more than obvious that he was a huge admirer of breasts and hers were his all time favorite. More than once when he opted to be the little devil he was, he'd randomly brush his hand across them or come up behind her and start groping them, sometimes surprisingly in a non sexual way.

He'd giggle and say "They're just so cute and perfect for my hands."

But right now there was absolutely nothing innocent in a way he was cupping and playing around with them. He was getting a thrill out of pressing them against each other, rubbing them together for a few seconds before releasing them to watch them fall back into their original place. His fingers tugged, pulled and even pinched at her sensitive buds to trigger moans to come out of her pretty and plump lips. Yeosang didn't forget to spread the oil all over the rest of her torso, making sure it was completely glistening in that sweet smelling substance he administered on it.

Gliding his hands further south, now her legs and thighs began to receive the same treatment, getting oiled up nicely for the new play he wanted to try out in a few minutes. His hands massaged her inner thighs, lingering them close to her pussy that was waiting to be touched by his gentle fingers. He grazed all around it but never actually touched it, making her get frustrated, hips slightly rising to try and feel something, anything where she needed it most.

"Yeosang...." She called out to him.

"Please just trust me on this Mistress. I'm only thinking about giving you the utmost pleasure you deserve."

Deciding it was no use fighting or commanding the demon, she just relaxed her hips and placed them back onto the mattress. Her mind instead focused on Yeosang's hands that were drawing circles across her thighs, fingers digging in at certain areas that helped release some tension after her long and arduous day. She let out a soft sigh, enjoying her lover's caresses so much she began closing her eyes and almost dozing off to sleep....

Until she felt a finger slid up her slit and press down on her clit. If she could, she would have shot her eyes wide open, and her legs would have instinctively closed at his touch, but she could not do that right now. Yeosang smirked, happy that he thought about binding her up so he could play and experiment with her body as he pleased. Using all his fingers, he rubbed at her folds making sure to pay close attention to her tiny little nub. It always fascinated him to know such a tiny organ could cause such big reactions. Prying her folds open with one of his hand, the other moved to slip a finger inside her hole, shortly followed by another one.

"So wet and it's not even because of the oil." Even without seeing him, Y/N knew he had the biggest shit eating grin plastered on that unholy handsome face of his.

"Yeosang don't tease me or I'll use the chains and whips on you." She warned him, emitting a low growl.

He chuckled at her as he digged his fingers deeper inside her, curling them so they grazed on that special place of hers.

"Very kinky my lady. Perhaps I should take you up on that offer again someday. You're not the only one who enjoys pain every now and then."

He wiggled his fingers inside of her before thrusting them in and out of her. Already being wet and being even more lubricated due to the oil he poured on her, sticky and sloppy sounds were the only things heard besides Y/N's pants that would soon turn to choked out moans if Yeosang continued his pace.

"So responsive for me, that you are Mistress."

Feeling somewhat bad at working her so close to a blissful high and having to take it away, he nonetheless slipped his hands out when he felt her walls tighten around his fingers, a string of slick coming out when he did. If her hands hadn't been tied up she would have surely slapped him across the face for denying her such pleasure.

"Yeosang!" She cried out, whining like a little child throwing a tantrum.

"Hush now my Lady. Just trust me and be patient."

Licking his fingers clean of her arousal, he went back to black box to take out the next items for their little field night: a pure white candle and a black lighter, the latter which he played around with and inspected in his fingers.

"Marvelous invention really. I remember there was a time I had to light a match almost every 5 minutes. Times have changed for the better."

Y/N tensed up when she heard match.

What on earth was her hell boy up to?

Hearing the soft clink of the lighter, she braced herself for whatever was going to come. For a moment nothing happened, but as soon as she let her guard down, Yeosang commenced his plan and let some of the hot wax drop onto her chest, landing right in between her breasts. Y/N jolted up at the intense and searing sensation.

"Yeo-Yeosang!" She gasped out in a high pitched tone.

He didn't respond but simply let two more drops of wax fall across her breathtaking chest, making her mouth fall open in shock.

"Mistress? How are you feeling?" He made sure to inquire before proceeding.

"I'm.......good....please....keep going."

He was beyond satisfied with her answer and decided to continue. Letting out the artistic side of him come out, he held the lighter closer to the candle to make it melt faster. Droplets of wax began to cover her chest and abdomen, forming a variety of designs that were leaving her breathless each time the hot substance made contact with her oiled skin. She never would have guessed that a messy and scorching object could inflict such an addicting pain that made her pool even more between her legs. Yeosang even dropped some of it down in her inner thighs, careful not to drop anything directly on her lady parts. That was strictly off limits. He focused on hitting points that would serve to stimulate her senses even further and it seemed to be working. Of course it would. He knew and understood her body more than anyone else, each time her chest rose, her toes curled or a change in her breathing, he knew what it all meant, having studied her body language for so long.

He took a step back and admired his artwork, a proud smile on his face as he saw the hardening wax all across her body.

"Mesmerizing." He complimented.

Tugging at the ropes binding her wrists, she grunted in desperation.

"Yes my lady I'm quite aware of how needy you are to have something inside of you, but let me remind you that you gave me free leave to do as I pleased..."

Once more, he dug into the blach chest, eyes gleaming when he took out one of his all time favorite play pieces: a rubber black and red flogger. He slowly fanned the tresses out, hovering it over his Mistress's face and dragging the material down her body, letting her get a hint of what was going to come next.

"And I intend to make the best of it."

As soon as he finished saying those words, his wrist skillfully twisted the device back and let it fall against her skin. Y/N wheezed sharply when she felt the slight sting. Swallowing a non-existent lump down her throat, she took a deep breath which had Yeosang laughing darkly.

"Too much?" He challenged her.

Not wanting to let the demon have the satisfaction, she let out a dry laugh, her head falling back.

"More like not enough. I thought you demons could do better than that.....perhaps I should have enlisted the help of a true incubus. I bet they deliver and never disappoint. That cute one that visited you once, San, do you think his offer is still on the table?"

Her words were deliberately filled with venom and malice, all for the intention of rousing the demon next to her. If her blindfold wasn't on, she would have been able to see his eyes change into the fiery blood orange color they turned to whenever he lost control and was no longer composed. He especially hated being compared to an incubus and more hear his mistress mention going to one of them. Wanting to silence that cackle of hers, he abruptly struck the flogger down on her lower stomach with even more force than the last one, effectively shutting her laughs up.

"The day you actually permit one of those degenerated, sick and perverted bastards taint your body, is the day I'm breaking hell loose and unleashing all its fury.....

And I'll fucking drag you down there to spend eternity with me."

Without giving her a chance to respond, he raised the object once again, flinging it down across her chest, stomach, even her inner thighs repeatedly. He paused for a few seconds between strokes, making her think it would over before starting over again. Y/N was releasing very loud yells, legs and hands writhing in place as they could not move much due to the restraints that kept her down. Yeosang knew she was already spilling a few tears.

"What? I thought you wanted this my lady? Don't you loved being tortured like this? I know you do."

Stopping momentarily, he feathered some of the tresses over her clit, causing her to become anxious about his next target.

"Such a dirty and sinful girl. I bet you're dying to have me flog this wet cunt of yours until the folds become red and swollen........"

Flipping the toy around, he pressed the round head of the handle against her clit and slid it down her folds until it reached farther down towards her anal opening.

"Or perhaps I should stuff the shaft right into your ass and fuck it til you're begging me to stop, and even then I'll keep going."

Removing the toy, he brought it back up and struck it against her genitals, causing it to instantly throb.

"Oh fuck!" She jerked what little movement she could muster of her hips, not expecting him to actually follow through on his threats.

"I like the first option a lot better actually."

With a sadistic smile on his face, he struck at her pretty little folds a few more times until it was a bright pink color, pussy lips puffed up and tender to the touch. Bending down, he blew air into her dripping hole, which had her shivering from how sensitive it had become.

"Just how I like it."

Y/N already had beads of sweat all over her body, giving her a subtle glow. The hair near her scalp was moist from how much she was sweating. Yeosang hadn't even entered her yet and she was already clenching around nothing as she felt the bed shift next to her. Using her sense of hearing to help her out, she could hear something light make a small thud on the ground, which she guessed was Yeosang's white dress shirt. Her theory was proved true as she then heard a zipper being undone and a belt buckle been loosened. She moaned out when she felt her demon's heated body right on top of hers. She wanted to reach her hands out and run them across his blonde hair, also craved to see his ridiculously handsome face as he fucked her into the sheets. That face that when she first saw she swore it could only belong in an angel, but soon learned she was deceived as it belonged to a hellish being.

Her lips happily welcomed Yeosang's when they sought them out, this time being a little more tender and intimate. His hands rested on her hips as he aligned himself to her entrance. She winced when his thick head slapped against her swollen clit, which he shushed immediately.

"There there my beautiful lady. I promise the sting will only last a little bit, but then you'll enjoy it."

With one swift move of his hips, he pierced through her entrance, his length that on more than one occasion had her mouth watering stretched her out so nicely. Combined with the red hot pain that was spread across her folds, Y/N's throat let out a strangled sound mixed with pleasure at him intruding so suddenly. Not wasting time, the demon expertly moved his hips, angling them so his pelvis would rub against her seering red clit, which further added to the otherworldly sensation he was forcing her to enjoy.

"Oh my- shit! Yeosang! Please!" She begged him, hands shaking violently in desperation at wanting to hold him closer to her.

"I'm afraid I must refuse this request my sweet mistress. You're not the only one allowed to have fun." He released that peculiar evil giggle of his that had her body heating up even more.

Yeosang's raspy grunts mixed with her own whimpering cries, the loud thudding of the bed underneath them was the only other sound accompanying their lustful orchestrations. He was making sure it was nothing less than intense, hips snapping violently, nails digging into her skin, if they were sharper they would probably be drawing blood. One of them came up to rip the choker off her neck, wanting to see the mark that matched the one on his wrist, the mark which was forever embedded on her skin and his after their contract was signed and sealed permanently. He watched with fascination and delight as it began to emit a faint glow, his doing the same.

"Mine...all mine. You'll always be mine. I'll never let anyone else have you."

He growled those words along the skin of her neck, kissing at her glowing mark and occasionally biting down on it. He began snarling as he heard her pant, chest rising up and down at a fast pace as she began nearing her climax.

"Yeosang....please! At least let me see you!" She pleaded. If she couldn't at least hold him, she definitely wanted to see his ethereal face as he spilled his wicked seed inside her.

He let out a hum before obliging her request, wanting to see her pretty face as well. Her vision needed a few seconds to adjust from the overwhelming pleasure she was getting, mixed with the tears in her eyes that couldn't let her clearly see her diabolical lover that was grinning down at her in an impurely manner.

"Release yourself mistress. Give yourself to me, all of it. I want to feel the end of your sins. Join me in this blazing fire...."

Reaching up, his hand grasped at her neck, cutting off enough oxygen to have her feeling dazed.

"Cum for me." He ordered her, eyes lighting up once more.

Unable to resist his wicked charms, she screamed out his name over and over as she convulsed underneath him, the fire pooling at her lower abdomen breaking loose as she came all over him. Her mind shut down and could not focus on anything other than the immense pleasure he was putting her through. Gripping her waist harshly, Yeosang incoherently sputtered out curses and swears in such a demonic tone as he spilled his fiery cum inside of her, not stopping until he had made sure to give her all of him.

"Holy shit!" He ironically declared, panting fiercely, a small choking gasp escaping slightly from his throat.

"Oh my god...." Y/N couldn't help but say as she felt her head still spin from that extreme high she was in.

"I don't think the big guy is willing to allow himself to be claimed after such a spectacle." He snorted as he pulled out of her and began untying the ropes that bound her.

Her arms and legs fell flat on the bed, completely worn out. She groaned even when Yeosang picked her up and began carrying her into the bedroom, where he had already previously prepared a warm, bubbly, fruity scented bath for her since he knew things were going to get messy and harsh. He tenderly placed her inside, fingers brushing away the hair sticking to her forehead.

"Please just relax in there a few minutes my lady. The residue of the wax will slip off quite easily." He assured her.

When he attempted to leave, her numb arm reached out and clasped his wrist.

"Join me..."

When she saw the hesitation on his face, she looked at him determinedly.

"That's an order."

He couldn't help the proud smile on his face at her taking charge. When he met her, after she summoned him, she was such a naive and pitiful girl, always being pushed around by others and never taking a stand for herself much less assert herself or that dominance that he knew resided in her. But that changed after he came into her life, she learned to make herself known, she no longer responded to no one and had become a lot more confident in herself and her decisions. And he was extraordinarily proud of his little flower for blooming so much.

Which is why he was now stepping into the luxurious bathtub, moving himself to sit behind her, his hands wrapping themselves around her waist. Y/N rested her head on his shoulder, eyes closing and enjoying the low soft voice of the demon behind her singing a song in a language she didn't understand, probably Latin or some other demonic language. She was so lost in his gentle and soothing caresses, a smile tugged on her lips.....until she felt those hands travel north.

"Yeosang!" She exclaimed when he cupped her breasts and kneaded them in his hands.

Turning her head, her offended face was met with his shameless one.

"What? They're just so soft and squishy and, and- it's like they were made for me." It still shocked her to see him break out of his corrupted, formal character and suddenly turn into a blushy, soft and cuddly boy.

"You're a pervert." She accused him yet made no move to remove his hands off her or order him to stop.

Chuckling, he began kissing the back of her neck.

"Don't blame me my lovely Y/N, after all.....

This is my sinful duty."

࿇ ══━━━━✥◈✥━━━━══ ࿇

324 notes · View notes

skvaderarts · 4 years ago

Text

Hiraeth Chapter 33: Windswept

Masterlist can be found Here!

Chapter Thirty-Three: Windswept

Note: Hope your all having a good week! I loved the comments you left for the last chapter! They were so wholesome and sweet! Now then… onward!

(-~-)

Rain ran down the inner courtyard windows, soaking the pavement and topsoil below as the once light rains steadily progressed into a full-on storm. Thunder rattled the windows, and the occasional flash of light was the closest thing to mid-morning light that they would probably experience today. Wind whipped through the covered corridor, spraying water up the bottoms of the windows and caking mud and grime between every grove and seam in the stone foundation. It would be a mess to clean up, but at least they didn’t have to worry about that for a while now. They were safely inside of the old house, and that was where they would stay until this storm let up.

Some would consider the conditions dreary and even disheartening, but V welcomed them. There was something about the sight of rain that soothed him, the ambient trickle of water that threatened to lull him to sleep if he didn’t keep his wits about him. The addition of whatever kind of tea they had been served didn’t help, the warm mixture of herbs and spices tingling his tastebuds and swaddling him in an inviting warmth that he didn’t want to leave. All he was missing was a good blanket. He already had access to the fireplace on the right side of the room. He would have to make a note of asking what this was so that he could venture out and procure some for himself. Or maybe he could order it. Going to the grocery store wasn’t something he was keen to do for a while. Perhaps a grocery delivery service.

Noticing that the storm was picking up again, Magnolia leaned over and lazily rested her chin and neck on her open palm, her elbow doing most of the work in keeping her head upright. Now that she was able to truly appreciate the view from within her ancestral home, she had to admit that her assumptions about this storm were true. And something told the botanist that her young niece might agree with her. “This storm is unnatural. It has been for some time.

“It’s been storming quite a bit lately, hasn’t it? I mean, it’s always dreary in this region, but this year has truly been something else.” Hydrangea said casually as she sipped her tea, looking out at the rain-drenched garden just behind the glass on the far side of the room. Overcast weather didn’t help the encroaching darkness that had consumed the manor by this point. “Well, I can’t say the whole year. Just in the time since that whole ordeal in Redgrave City. I wonder if any of the locals have noticed. A storm rolled in a few weeks after it, and it just hasn’t let up since. This is going to be a winter to remember.”

“Oh, I would think they have noticed. No one stays out late anymore. The streets are bare and lifeless. One would think the entire region was on lockdown, but I think people have just become afraid to venture very far beyond their own front doors.” She shook her head slowly, quietly morning the loss of independence that she knew most of the locals must feel in regards to their situation. All they probably knew was that ever since that demonic tree had sprouted from the depths of hell and sucked the blood out of the unfortunate denizens of several city blocks, nothing had been the same. And it probably never would be again. Damage like that left a gaping wound, both physically and metaphysically. “Those of us who actually know what’s going on have seemingly done the same if this lockdown is anything to go by. Would you mind explaining the nature of it to me, dear?”

Hydrangea shrugged nebulously, yawning as she stretched and attempted to wake herself up. “Mom called for basic precautions about two weeks ago. Auntie Aluta said she had a bad feeling and that she suspected that something ominous might happen. And then there was a fire at a convenience store, and some of our scouts found evidence of dark corruptive magic on a scale that hasn’t been seen in a long time.” She shrugged again, clearly not really sure what else she could say about the matter. These were matters that she honestly didn’t know much about. After all, she didn’t help make those decisions. “Mom locked up the place tight after that, and then Auntie Aluta skipped town. Said she would be back sometime this week. Apparently, she has to check on something, or whatever. I don’t question her. Sometimes she has a hard time grounding herself in the present, what with her premonitions and all.”

Vergil shared a questioning glance with Dante before turning back towards the young girl, drinking the tea that they had been served. It was quite good, and barely anyone had spoken since it had been poured into their cups and the first sips had met their lips. “Does she leave town unannounced often due to these… premonitions?”

Dante nodded, admittedly curious as to what she had meant by that statement as well. Did Magnolia’s younger sister have truly strange powers, or was something more going on here that he just didn’t quite comprehend? He would be the first to admit that he didn’t actually know much about magic, or whatever the Ludwig family considered it. This was a learning experience for him, just as much as it was for most of the rest of them. Lucia seemed to be the only one in this situation who wasn’t totally out of the loop in regards to these sorts of matters. While she didn’t seem to fully understand what they were talking about, she was at least able to nod along and comprehend it. Either that, or she was a dab hand at faking it until she made it. Either way, she was leagues ahead of him in that regard.

“Yea, about that… can your aunt see the future or something? Is that, you know, a thing? Because I didn’t know you could do something like that. That’s news to me.” The youngest son of the Dark Knight Sparda said, gesturing to emphasize his surprise. If that was possible, then he wanted to know if it was something you could learn, or a gift you had to be born with. It couldn’t be all that common, or he would have heard about it by now. What an interesting revelation.

The young woman looked skeptical in regards to her ability to answer that question. “You’re probably not going to believe me, but I never really questioned how she was able to do that. I heard she came in contact with some statue or something, and she just sort of developed the ability to sense when things just weren’t right. They were called the Beast Heads or something like that. Can’t be sure. I was probably five when that happened, si it was almost a lifetime ago. My mom was there, so you should probably ask her. If you really want to know more about it. Honestly, she probably doesn’t know too much about it either. Auntie Aluta can’t really control it. It just sort of happens every now and then.”

Dante cringed internally. Great. Things just got better and better.

It was Nero’s turn to interject. He had been sitting next to V this entire time, quietly awaiting the moment when something would be said that would actually pique his interest, and this was it. He could sympathize with having gifts thrust upon you that you never would have asked for in your wildest dreams. What she was going through sounded hellish to him. What on earth did she see or sense? He’d like to ask her, if he ever got the chance. There was no way of knowing if they would still be over here when she returned from whatever she was doing.

Little did Nero know that V shared much the same opinion in regards to this revelation as he did. The older of the two had been quietly listening to them as he indulged himself, enjoying the tea and opting to only speak up if he thought he had something useful to add to the discussion. Unfortunately, he only had questions, but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t still contribute something. None of them had thought to mention what had happened inside of Belial’s illusion to her. If her family was concerned with the attack that he had orchestrated that had resulted in that store being burned down in the first place, then it might be a good idea to explain to her what had happened. For all he knew, she might be able to put his mind at ease.

“We happened to be inside of that anomaly when it occurred. It was certainly dark.” V said as he calmly gestured towards Sirrus. The man with the red hair had seemingly checked out of the conversation and seemed to be nearly ready to doze off. Much like himself, his wounds had healed quickly, but he couldn’t say much in regards to his energy levels. He had remained somewhat drained, but Sirrus seemed to be able to manage a little bit better than him, despite the severity of his injuries. It was hard to say what he was going through, but if he was falling back asleep this early in the morning, then V was willing to bet that they were largely in the same boat. “I have no idea how the attack was orchestrated, but I believe I was the target of its creator. Of that, I have very little doubt. Belial was very clear about that fact.”

Hydrangea gaped, clearly recognizing that name. She looked between V and Sirrus, a look somewhere between wonderment and concern spreading across her face. It seemed that that wasn’t a consideration that they had taken into mind. Belial might not have even been on their radar. V remembered Sirrus saying that his organization had been keeping tabs on the Devil Prince’s activities, but that didn’t mean that that organization had to be his relatives. Sirrus was here because of work, even if they didn’t understand that work. Magnolia had asked for his assistance, and he had made it work equally within the constraints of both parties. That didn’t mean that V necessarily knew who the other party involved was, or that he needed to. So long as Sirrus was on their side and was trying his best to help them, that was all he truly cared about.

“You lost a fight to Belial? Wow Siri, I thought you were tougher than that.” Hydrangea leaned over and punched him in the shoulder, giggling frantically as she took the opportunity to shame him and everything he stood for. This wasn’t a regular occurrence that she could normally capitalize on. Sirrus was usually very difficult to take down in a fight. “Why didn’t you just do that thing? You know, that one thing? I can’t remember what it’s called. You're really good at it, though.”

“First of all, I’ve only done that once. It’s very dangerous, and I probably would have caused far too much damage to the integrity of the illusion for it to be a feasible option.” Sirrus said, shaking his head and leaning over to playfully point at her. There was a note of seriousness to his tone, but he was still trying to keep things civil and lighthearted, and it showed. But then something changed in his eyes, a certain mournful pain glittering in them for a moment as he swallowed and glanced over at V. “Power like that has a terrible cost. I could only bring myself to do something like that if I was the only one in danger. When you wield weapons of that magnitude, you have to consider the lives of those who walked into that fight with you. You have a responsibility to make sure they see their families again. Victory at the cost of everything is not victory, it’s egotistical and an example of hubris in its purest state. A war of attrition is preferable to a pyrrhic victory.”

Pausing for a moment to consider her relative’s words, she seemed to allow them to really sink in. She then nodded, looking over towards V and then back towards Sirrus. “Is it a victory if you never live to see it, either? I agree with you… but in situations like that, is there ever a way to truly win? Because it doesn’t seem like it.”

Sirrus nodded slowly, a thoughtful look on his face. He then shared a final look at V before turning away. “Sometimes your lucky enough to share the battlefield with someone who has integrity. It’s especially rare when it’s not a battle that you willingly walk into, but I believe that is when one truly demonstrates their true upper limits of character. It’s about what you do when you think no one will be able to judge you for your actions that truly matters, and that is when you glean the true worth of another. I was simply fortunate to be stuck in an unfortunate situation with the kind of person who understood that.”

The room fell quiet for a moment as V took in Sirrus’s statement in silence, unsure as to what to say to something like that. While Everyone present seemed to grasp the bare essentials of Sirrus’s ethos statement, he was the only one present who truly understood what the other man was talking about. This was about more than the battle that they had not been able to fight. He understood that now. This was about the moment when he had made the decision not to turn tail and leave Sirrus for dead. After all, he was right. He would not have been able to pass judgment on him for something so basic as not wanting to die. But the fact that he had been willing to intervene and risk everything in spite of that meant a greater deal to the Adjudicator with the long red hair than he realized, and in turn, that meant something to him that he couldn’t quite put into words.

Griffon suddenly manifested a moment later, perching himself on the back of the couch as he cackled mischievously at V’s silence. The young summoner blinked slowly, giving his trusted companion a knowing look and a disapproving head shake. There were far too many people in this room for him to even consider allowing the dastardly little troublemaker to do what he knew he probably planned to do. “Don’t you dare start.”

Unable to help himself, Griffon’s laughter picked up and became more noticeable, drawing eyes from throughout the room. “Don’t what? Point out the fact that you have the communication skills of a smirred love letter to an unrequited lover? Or is that too topical, V?” The bird’s eyes darted across the room, lingering on Lucia for a moment before they returned to V. Thankfully she couldn’t see him do that from the angle that she was sitting at. “What, too soon? Look, just take the compliment! It won’t kill ya, will it? Or are you allergic to being proud of yourself?”

Shadow manifested a moment later, swatting Griffon away as he darted out of her reach and onto the top of one of the bookcases. The large panther then walked around the couch and plopped down on the ground, allowing her head to rest against V’s ungrateful legs. He wouldn’t complain though. She had just saved his hide. She had earned head scratches for that timely rescue. He had been too mortified to react, and she seemed to sense that. He had to appreciate that about Shadow. The demonic housecat was always there for him when it truly counted, even if she couldn’t say anything. And she made a good pillow, all things considered. Truly a versatile companion.

Just then, the sound of heels clicking echoed down the hallway as a woman in a long blue dress rounded the corner and, upon seeing the room full of people, stopped dead in her tracks. Her eyes seemed to linger on her older sister, a sort of festering white-hot furry threatening to bubble over as she attempted to compose herself. This had to be Willow. The resemblance between her and Magnolia was uncanny, almost startlingly close, in fact. At least as far as appearances went.

Before anyone present could say anything, Willow looked over across the room and went from frustrated and seemingly livid at her older sister’s presence, too flabbergasted and flustered. Practically every set of eyes in the room traveled to her and then from there, to the object of her attention. And when they realized what she was looking at, confusion and surprise set in in equal measure. Was she actually looking at…

“Well, one of us is going to have to change, and it isn’t going to me, Vergil. By the gods, do you age? What’s it been, twenty-five years?” She folded her arms, an amused smirk spreading across her face into an actual full-blown smile as he allowed her arm to fall and rest at her sides. As much as she was trying to hide it, she was thrilled to death to see the Darkslayer, and it wasn’t a reaction that he or anyone else in the room was accustomed to receiving when he met a long-lost acquaintance. “I’d hug you, but I enjoy having two arms. I’m sure you’d be just as liable to remove them from my body as you were back when we were teenagers! Some things never change. I don’t even need to consider my chances.”

“Twenty-three years, five months, and one week. Not that I was counting.” Vergil said in a tone so deadpan that it was hard to tell if he was being disingenuous or actually had counted the precise days. Either way, it elicited a humored giggle from the tall woman in the trailing blue dress. Her gray and brown-streaked hair trailed down her back and fell in curtains around her shoulders as she brushed it out of the way and looked over at Dante, a surprised look crossing her face. “Oh, and you finally brought your twin brother to visit us like you said you would. And here I thought you were lying.”

Dante looked between his twin brother and the tall woman in abject shock and confusion, sure that he wasn’t the only one in the room who had picked up on the change in atmosphere around them. There was no way that Vergil hadn’t noticed it, even though he seemed to be doing his level best to neither acknowledge it nor contribute to it. This reunion was surely the only thing keeping peace in the room, a fact that was supported by the uncomfortable look that Willow and Magnolia shared a moment later, clearly uncomfortable with being in the presence of one another.

“I was, Willow. This is just happenstance.” Vergil said in a slightly more accommodating tone, sensing the growing hostility between the two sisters. “Speaking of things that didn’t change… My eldest has found himself in something of a predicament, and as such, we came to seek your expertise. My brother is rarely up this early otherwise.”

The Youngest Son of Sparda shrugged in reluctant agreement. Vergil wasn’t wrong, but he also didn’t appreciate him negatively contributing to the possibility of this frankly drop-dead gorgeous woman ever speaking to him. But surely if she tolerated Vergil, she could at least allow him a moment of her time once things calmed down a little. Oh, who was he kidding? He had rotten luck with beautiful ladies. It was only a matter of time before she impaled him with something, shot him, or ran him over. Maybe he should just quit while he was ahead…

“Honest as ever, old friend. And even less funny. Oh, how I’ve missed our talks.” The smile returned as she shook her head, genuine amusement present in her face as she glanced over at Nero and V. A soft smile spread across her face. She didn’t need to ask if they were his. She just knew. Especially Nero. The resemblance was uncanny. “So then… how can I help you?”

(-~-)

Well, this was a fun chapter to write! Books are in the mail! Supposedly they will take two weeks to get here, so I’ll update you when they arrive. Wasn’t willing to pay $28 for faster shipping. That’s insane. Can’t wait to read your comments on this one!

#Hiraeth #V #Vitale #My Post Devil May Cry 5 AU #Post Devil May Cry 5 #Nero #Nico #Lucia #Dante #Vergil #Magnolia #Sirrus #My OCs #DMC

5 notes · View notes

experimentalmadness · 5 years ago

Text

Show Off (Inquisitor/Cullen)

Cullen watches the Inquisitor train and decides to enter the ring himself.

(Y’all if anyone remembers my Yael Lavellan, I got inspired to do another one-shot after 8 million years. Yeehaw.)

Watching the Inquisitor train was something of a spectacle in Skyhold. A small gathering had formed along the pen’s outer fence and all the southside battlements had a cluster of soldiers who were supposed to be on their morning rotation.

It took the three women a whole half minute before they noticed their Commander staring down at them. Cullen had to bite his lip as they rattled in their armor, shuffled a salute, and waited with stiff-necked anxiety at his chastisement. His gaze slipped from them to the commotion down below. He did not even attempt to hide his smile.

“I hear there’s a bet going on in the barracks,” Cullen said, folding his arms behind his back. “Collects at the end of the week. Fifty silver so far on the Inquisitor. Safe bet, I imagine.”

The soldiers didn’t dare answer him even as he chuckled a little despite himself. “At ease before you strain something.” All three women breathed out a sigh that only mildly reminded Cullen of a broken bellows. “You’re not going to be stripped of rank for admiring your Inquisitor.”

If that were the case he’d have been demoted months ago, he thought as he watched a great gout of flame erupt over the training pen.

“Yes, sir, thank you sir,” the soldiers announced in unison.

He quirked an eyebrow up at they continued standing motionless before him. “However, if I don’t see you at your posts within the hour I’ll be sure to inform the Inquisitor. I’m sure she would love nothing more than to indulge all three of you in a few up close rounds of combat drills.”

The soldiers had already begun to take off with great haste before he could even finish the thought. There was a reason Yael kept her training within that of her inner circle and not the rank and file of her army. No one wanted to face her. No one with sense at any rate.

A laugh echoed up from the courtyard, barking mad and crackling with magic. Yael wielded a staff in one hand and her astral blade in the other, keeping up a steady rhythm against Cassandra, Iron Bull, and Dorian. Fire flickered around her, singeing the ground black wherever she stepped. It roared out of her as natural as breath, Cullen doubted she was even aware of it.

It wasn’t that she was the best fighter, nor even the most skilled mage. There was a primal energy in Yael’s attacks. Something unpredictable and even harder to control. Even if she hadn’t been a mage, Cullen thought, she would have still been this fierce warrior—the tempest at the heart of the battlefield.

A splintering crack shattered his thoughts as Cassandra careened through the fence posts. The onlookers scrambled to get out of the way, even Yael paused to regain control over herself. It was only when Cassandra dusted herself off and gave Yael a reassuring nod that the Inquisitor let out another satisfied barking laugh, reignited her flames, and turned to the others. “One down two more to go!”

Thank the Maker she was on their side! Cullen abandoned his vantage point up on the battlements, giving his head a little shake as he walked down the steps towards the training yard. He remembered seeing her for the first time when the sky had been newly torn; surrounded on all sides by every kind of demon. And she had charged in, a sleep-deprived, terrified prisoner, raining fire down on every wraith and shade. Not knowing who she was fully he had had the idea of making sure Cassandra recruited her into their ranks. It wasn’t until he had made his way back to the forward camp that he fully processed who she was. Odd thing, but he couldn’t remember ever thinking she had anything other than good intentions even when all he had seen of her was that now infamous battle-lit face and a handful of fire.

He made it down the stairs just in time to see Iron Bull sweep his great axe under Yael’s feet and lay her flat on her back. The cringe from the onlookers told him just how much lighter the purses of a few attendants would be in the coming days. Dorian leaned against his staff, shaking with quiet laughter as Bull offered Yael a hand up. Maker, the scowl she had on her face!

“That’s why I keep telling you t’ keep that guard up, Boss.”

“I always have my guard up.”

“Lying in front of the troops is hardly the most inspiring thing,” Cullen laughed as he approached the fence.

Tendrils of smoke curled up and over Yael’s shoulders as the flames extinguished from around her. The scowl was now aimed specifically at him, but a clap from Bull’s hand to her back choked it right off. “Good fight,” he said. “Let’s see if you can’t kick my ass tomorrow.”

Yael punched his arm. “They’ll be putting your body in an ashtray, Bull.” But there was no bite behind her words.

Bull and Dorian disperessed with the rest of the thinning crowd, Bull’s laugh trailing off behind him as he and Dorian made for the tavern. He offered them both a friendly wave as they departed; Dorian responded with a mock salute. He’d be seeing the mage later at their usual afternoon appointment in the gardens. If Yael couldn’t best him on the field today at least he could win her a modicum of revenge on the chessboard.

“Hope you didn’t lose too much money on my account,” Yael divested herself of her coat, hanging it up on the post before going over to the water barrel. She practically dunked her full head into it, not caring in the least if she soaked her tunic and jerkin.

“What makes you think I was betting on you?”

Cullen invited himself over the fence, tossing a dry cloth to Yael just as she turned, dripping, back around. That remark earned him a genuine smile, he could always tell by the sight of her sharpened canines. A wolf’s smile.

She scrubbed at her face, dust and a bit of soot staining the cloth as she tossed it over the side of the barrel. “Are you truly done?” Cullen asked. “You look as if you could have gone for at least several more rounds.”

“Truth be told I could potentially convince Sera or Vivienne to join me for another bout, but,” she shrugged, “perhaps that will have to wait until later.”

Much later if he recalled the Inquisitor’s schedule for the day. A meeting with Leliana for a brief update on their agents in the field and then it was to be in and out of diplomatic meetings with Josephine for the rest of the afternoon as the delegates from Neverra and Antiva arrived. Cullen could already see Yael’s impatience. By the time she’d be out of doors again it would be well into the evening and the sun would be long gone from the sky.

Cullen had drawn his sword before giving it another thought. “I’m not nearly as unpredictable a fighter as Sera, nor do I claim to have as much finesse as Madame Vivienne, but I hope you’ll consider me a worthy replacement nonetheless.”

“You can’t be serious,” she laughed, hands at her hips.

“And why not? I command your armies for a reason, Inquisitor.”

“Cullen,” laughter was still rumbling through her. Green eyes glinting with just that rare bit of warmth. “Creators, I think the last time we ever sparred was back in Haven. Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t I…”

“Send me flying out of the ring and into the snow? Yes thank you, my bones still remember that one. All the more reason for us to take the time now.”

Yael rolled her eyes, but Cullen saw her hand whisper over the sword at her belt. “I thought you had a policy on stifling the barrack room gossip.” She picked up her staff, but did not ignite it with her fire.

“Some things are worth the whispers.”

He charged her, thinking to use her hesitation against her, but Yael merely sidestepped out of the way. Nearly had him, but he corrected before he could throw himself out of the ring. He pivoted, blade spinning in his hand with a flourish that had Yael centering her stance. Their weapons met, but there were no sparks, no gouts of magic from the iron, nor smoke emanating from the Inquisitor. Cullen gritted his teeth and pushed her back.

Yael yielded to the movement with a calculating look in her eyes. She feinted to the left, but Cullen knew her too well and did not let her goad him on.

It was one thing to watch the Inquisitor fight, it was another to join her. For weeks now Vivienne and Leliana had been teaching Yael Orlesian dances for the upcoming ball in Halamshiral and she took to them about as easy as a fish to the air. Yet here she was at her most elegant. Although, Cullen admitted with a low grunt of frustration as she nearly disarmed him, he wished she would stop toying with him.

“Come on then, Yael,” he crossed swords with her. “You know you can’t win strike for strike.”

She said nothing in return. Her face was bathed in sweat as she concentrated, staring hard at Cullen’s stance, the hilt of his blade, the tells in his eyes. Eventually Cullen lowered his guard. “What are you doing?”

“Training like you asked,” Yael huffed a strand of hair out of her eyes. “What’s the matter? Yielding so soon?”

“Waiting for you to fight me properly,” he shook his head. “You’re as stiff as a board. Stilted. Ready to be knocked over at the slightest push. No wonder Bull bested you.”

There it was! The spark that he had wanted to see at the beginning. Smoke began coiling about Yael’s shoulders and embers broke out over the blade of her short sword. Cullen readied himself. “Again, Inquisitor,” he smiled.

For a heartbeat he tangled with the real Inquisitor as smoke and flame enveloped them both and he felt that wild and wonderful pulse of her magic. She brought her astral blade fully to bear, pushing with magical force until she found her opening.

Cullen could see in her eyes that she had him. He moved to correct but even before he could guard against her attack he felt the magic dissipate. The vicious look in Yael’s eyes evaporated and it was as if all the air had been sucked from the arena. She continued her attack, but she merely met the plates of his armor like a new recruit would tap the stuffed training dummies in the yard.

“Checkmate,” Yael grinned. She twirled her sword in her hand and stepped back. “What?” she averted her eyes. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Forgive me, but by rights you should have had me out of the ring yet you held back.”

“I never hold back.”

He fixed her with a withering look until she began to fidget in the silence. Turning on her heel she marched back over to the water basin. “Leliana is likely to have my head if I’m late for another meeting.”

“Yael.”

He followed directly behind her, sheathing his sword and watching as she stiltedly washed up. She pulled on her coat and adjusted its collar. Turning back to face him a glowing fireball emerged in the palm of her hand, rotating harmlessly as Yael regarded it with a controlled stare. “My magic is…” she tossed the fire from one hand to the other, little lines of lightning orbiting around it. “Volatile. I’ve always been a pathetic healer, useless with spirit magics, but the elements? They come to me naturally. And they are not always harmless.”

“As our enemies have come to fear,” Cullen couldn’t hide the pride in his voice if he tried, so why did Yael look suddenly so very ashamed?

With a wave of her hand the fire extinguished in her palm. “Yes, but not you.” Those fierce, blazing green eyes held him transfixed. “My magic isn’t made to hurt you.”

Cullen closed the space between them with a kiss, muffling Yael’s gasp of surprise. Her skin was hot to the touch from her recent firespell and he could taste the after-spark of embers. He didn’t care who saw them in the training yard. Yael pressed a hand to his cheek, her surprise turning into wicked abandon. “Oh dear,” she whispered as she parted for air. “So much for silencing the gossip.”

“I love you,” he kissed the tip of her nose causing her to flinch and laugh. Her dark cheeks going that much darker at his words. The edge in her eyes softening ever so slightly though he knew she’d deny it profusely if he pointed it out. “All of you. Including your magic. Promise you won’t hold yourself back from me?”

She raised one eyebrow, interlacing her fingers with his, pressing a single kiss to the back of his hand. “Even if it means showing you up in front of your own troops?”

Cullen laughed. “Even that.”

#Dragon Age #Cullen Rutherford #Cullen x lavellan #Yael Lavellan

19 notes · View notes

snormynight · 5 years ago

Text

Sweet Embers

A sickAziraphale fic I was too embarrassed to post on the Ark hive🍯

Also this is my first time posting here so sorry if the read more doesn’t work google docs can suck my toe

[[MORE]]

Crowley found that he could match Aziraphale’s impudent nature with some cheekiness of his own. Together, the two were a force of nature and by balancing each other out, they were able to create their own sort of paradise on their little planet called Earth. Crowley didn't care about anything. The end was coming whether he liked it or not and all he could think about was that maybe it really had been part of God’s great plan for he and Aziraphale to meet.

But things were different now. Before Armageddont, he wasn't nearly so paranoid. A miracle could fix up the simplest of problems. But now they had pissed off the higher ups, who in many ways, were much more powerful than them. (But apparently, not smarter.) They'd surely find them out sooner or later, but they definitely could could stave them off by masking their miracle signatures. Like disappearing off the face of Heaven and Hell respectively. So far, it seemed to be working.

They didn't talk much about their fears. The thwarting of Armageddon was a great victory and by golly they were going to celebrate. Even if they were still very much afraid. But neither one wanted to be the first to admit so. So they kind of danced around it, until it seemed to get the best of them.

Aziraphale had cut one night suspiciously short. He hadn't been very cheerful all night and had been short with Crowley, even when asked the most innocent of questions. He had bid him farewell, and Crowley thought that maybe he required just a little alone time. Fine by him. He wanted some time to bond with his bentley after just getting her back. Maybe rekindle over a few Queen tracks.

The night didn't settle with him though. His mind remained busy and it always went back to Aziraphale.

So he decided he'd drop by around lunch time tomorrow. He’d known Aziraphale and his routines long enough to predict that a crisp Autumn morning like today would tempt him to enjoy a cup of tea in bliss solitude, probably with nothing short of a toasted brioche. And he thought that the Angel would be in a great mood when it was time to eat again at lunch. Maybe Crowley could even apologize for whatever he had done.

He was on the doorstep, about to invite himself in when his eyes fell on the the window sign, which had evidently not yet been flipped from closed to open. Crowley tensed, as he knew Aziraphale always opened next to the sun’s waking hour and his mind immediately went to the worst. He ventured inside, and did his best to mask his worry.

“Angel? You about? Y’know, I don't consider this a very good business practice, though I suppose it’s in my best interest to keep that to myself.”

He entered the bookshop which was quaint as ever but eerily silent. Everything was just as he last recalled, except Aziraphale was nowhere to be found. Crowley demanded he’d get to the bottom of this.

“Aziraphale, let’s talk! Demon to Angel. If you could just humor me on what happened last night i'd really appreciate it.”

He moved around the shop, and it was when he reached the nook near the kitchenette where he felt slight relief. There he found his angel, hunched over a bowl of cheerios and snoring something awful. Crowley blinked away his surprise and walked over, assessing the scene. The milk was still cold, a sign that he had been conscious only moments before. Crowley grabbed a fistfull of golden locks and lugged Aziraphale into an upright position.

“Angel.”

He looked terrible. Dark bags hung from his eyes like he hadn't caught a wink the night before. His face was flush and slick with fever and his nose was akin to a cherry tomato. The cheerios stuck to his face, accenting the look.

Aziraphale moaned, roused by the movement and Crowley could only stare as he cracked his eyes open, giving the former a weak smile.

“Ah hello, dear boy.” His voice was thick with congestion. “It was so very sweet of you to drop by.”

He'd been the picture of health only hours ago. Crowley couldn't believe the development. Maybe he had just been distracted? He had been off last night, but he had surely chalked it up to being Crowley's own doing. And now it sent a weird pang through Crowley's heart to think that he hid this from him just so he wouldn't have to send Crowley away early. The short gripiness should have been a dead giveaway that his angel was unwell. And even though he was a bit upset with himself not seeing the signs, he was quite angry that Aziraphale hadn't said anything.

He glared down at him, but any biting words he had died on his tongue. Aziraphale’s big blue eyes seemed to know what he wanted to say. They had their ways of speaking back. He looked weary and guilty and Crowley felt like he needed to spare him.

“You look terrible,” he settled on.

Aziraphale couldn't help but chuckle and Crowley cringed, as it really just sounded like a wheeze. He must've still looked like something fierce, because Aziraphale looked away and curled in on himself. He still felt like he could let him have it, but a relief to see that the Archangels hadn't actually ganged up on him like he feared far outweighed his anger. He placed his fingers on his jaw, eyebrows raising at the heat he found there.

“Look at me.”

Aziraphale compiled, letting his cheek find comfort in the palm of Crowley's cool hand. He sighed, sagging into the touch and cleared his throat with a few more chesty coughs. When he was finished, Crowley reached for a cloth near the sink, dampened it and then began to run it over his Cheerio sodden face.

Unfortunately, it was not quite damp enough to avoid irritating the angel’s nose. His breath caught only once as he grabbed Crowley’s hand, clasping the cloth against his face.

“hihh!...Heh-chiew! Eh-shoo!”

Crowley found it hard to be disgusted, what with the look of relief Aziraphale was now sporting. His expression turned to one of shame quickly.

“Im’b so sorry, my dear,” he said hoarsely.

Crowley forewent disgust and cast the ruined cloth aside. He rubbed his hands up and down Aziraphale’s arms, eliciting a shiver out of the other. Just feeling him and his recoiled aura around him. Aziraphale could have sneezed right in his face and he wouldn't have cared. He was still just happy that he was alive. He’d take any chance to distract him from the impending doom that was the higher-ups.

“No matter. How about we get you into something warmer, hm?”

After a very wobbly trek to the sofa, Crowley had Aziraphale bundled up in several blankets over some of his warmer pajamas. Even though he looked cozy he seemed physically miserable as ever.

“Hih-hichiew! Hhh...h-hehh, o-oh dearhhh!-heh’choo! Hah-chiew!!”

He sniffed and punctuated that with a groan. He almost snapped his fingers, but quickly regained himself and reached for the tissues.

“This is all just made worse by the fact that we shan't use miracles.”

Crowlys chest ached as he caught Aziraphaels fearful gaze up above them. He hadn't noticed it before. He knew he wasn't particularly fond of hell, but Aziraphale never looked down at hell in fear. More like disdain. Contempt. Maybe even a little jealousy. He used to whine to Crowley how it must've been easier to perform temptations than holy miracles. And how his bosses were a lot more ruthless. That couldn't possibly be true.

He didn't want to fight tonight. All he wanted was to stop this paranoia and to make his angel feel better. And sitting here wasn't doing him much good. He had an idea, but knew it’d require some temptation on his part. He slithered up next to him on the sofa and reached up to rub at Aziraphale’s shoulders.

“Oh c’mon, Angel, don't be like that. ‘Cant’sa strong strong word. We might be under lockdown, sure, but we’re free to do whatever we want. I think I can figure out what you want.”

“Mhmm. what did you have in mind?’

A bath.

It bubbled over and steamed like a sauna, becoming them over with promises of security and warmth.

And oh how it tempted. Both moved toward it, clothing cast aside, in all their glory.

Crowley’s the first to dip, slinking down and flattening himself against the edge of the basin. Once settled, he beckoned Aziraphale over with an outstretched hand.

“Get in, Angel.”

Aziraphale obeyed, grabbing the offered hand and slowly hoisted himself in. At first he gasped at the sudden change in temperature, but he kept going, knowing that once submerged, this'll be the desired setting.

He sat down in the tub with help from Crowley and scooted backwards so his hips were now touching Crowleys inner thighs. He sighed in relief as the steam rose to meet his face.

Crowley smirked and leaned forward so he could whisper in his ear.

“Better?”

Aziraphale nodded but his comfort was short lived. Crowley retracted a bit when the Angel’s breath hitched and his shoulders jolted upward.

“H-hiH! H-haihshuu! AISH’Huuh!”

Crowley grimaced. “Oh, Ange-”

“Wuh...w-one morehhh! h’hEGSHuu!”

When he's done, Aziraphale sagged against one side of the tub with a pitiful moan. Crowley tutted as he blew his nose.

“Oh sweet Angel, you poor thing,” he continued. “That's no good.”

Aziraphale sniffed. “Ugh, my head.”

Reaching toward the edge of the tub, Crowley squeezed a dollop of shampoo into his hand. It smelled of oats and lavender.

“Well that wont do, now will it?”

Tenderly, he reached for the golden locks and massaged his hands into the scalp. Rubbing in small circles caused it to grow foamy and eventually the smell wafts to Aziraphale’s nose. This time he moaned in delight.

“No, I suppose it won't,” he replied. Crowley watched the angel’s body relax as he worked his hands down the back of his neck and then down to his shoulders. Soon it's like a giant soapy cloud has taken refuge on Aziraphale’s backside.

He's pretty pleased with himself until he noticed the unease as Aziraphale shifted in the tub. He won't say anything though. That's for Crowley to draw out.

“Spit it out, Angel. Am I being too rough?”

Aziraphale was quick to wave his hands dismissively. “No! Oh no, it's all rather lovely. It just occurred to me that, well, how you've spent your time looking after me. I hate to be an inconvenience. You could probably find more productive ways to spend your evening.”

Crowley stared at the soap bubble Bentley he so expertly crafted on the backside of the being he loved most in this world.

“Eh maybe. Trust me. M’doing just fine.”

Short quips seemed to do him the most comfort. Crowley was not one for drawled out speeches.

After he had successfully rinsed the soap away, they both sat in the still water, simply enjoying each other's company. In fact, they sat there for so long, Crowley hadn't noticed that the water had gotten cold until Aziraphael shivered violently.

“Right then, Angel,’ he says softly. “Out we go.”

He braced himself and waited patiently as Aziraphale shakily got onto his feet before moving himself. He drained the bathtub and stepped out, wrapping a towel around his waist. He retrieved another one and a robe and helped wrap those around his shivering angel.

“Thank you,” he graced.

Crowley saw that even though he seemed much fresher, his droopy eyelids and dopey smile indicated that he needed to have a lie down real quick.

“Come on now,” he beckoned, and with a hand steadying his back, he lead the sickly angel to the warm invites of the lounge. He set him down on the recliner and the angel stretched his arms to the heavens with a great big yawn and apologized once more for his antics.

“Don't be,” Crowley said. He grabbed the fluffy quilt off the floor and draped it over the sleepy angel. “I'll be off then,’ he said, fighting off the lump of hesitation in his throat. He thought it might be best to leave Aziraphale to fend this off by himself. “Will that be all?”

Before he could finish his statement, a hand shot out from under the blanket, grabbing hold of Crowley’s wrist. Aziraphale stared up at him with those big hopeful eyes.

“Don't go,” he pleaded softly. “I don't think I could bear a night alone like this. Please.”

Crowly softened as a few tears welled up in the angels eyes. He was always more emotional whenever he felt unwell and Crowley knew the guilt would eat him alive if he left him like this. He didn't want to leave anyway. So he surrendered and threw up his hands.

“Alright. Where do you want me?”

Aziraphale shakily pushed himself upright and scooted as far to the right as he could and pointed to the snug spot beside him. Crowley rolled his eyes but obeyed and squeezed in next to him. Once settled, Aziraphale threw an arm and a leg over the demons body and pulled the blanket around the both of them. Aziraphale snuggled closer to the demon and hummed contently once he was comfy. Crowley reached up and prodded for the remote on the coffee table beside them. He found it and hovered it in front of his face.

“Fancy anything?”

“Not particularly,” Aziraphale yawned. “Just absolutely thrilled you're here.”

Crowley hid a smile as he laid a kiss at the top of his sweet head. Then he made it his mission to find something relaxing to watch. Nothing sad. Definitely nothing scary. Unfortunately that's what seemed to be in store for nearly fifty channels on cable. Until he stumbled across a How It’s Made type of deal. Bicycle tires. It was quite mesmerizing.

A snore floated up to his ear and Crowley's eyes sauntered down to the lump lying across him. Aziraphale, the poor thing, had fallen asleep, exhausted by the whole ordeal of a day he'd had. He didn't sound any less congested, but his worry lines faded away and he seemed peaceful in sleep. Almost like...well, an angel.

There was something about this one that seemed to quelm Crowley’s anxiety instantly. All of a sudden the fears before him seemed so small compared to the comforting weight of the snoring angel pressed into his side. It really felt like it had always been the two of them against the universe. But Crowley didn't mind that. Even as sniffly and sickly his angel could be.

#snzblr #snzfic #rosierites

39 notes · View notes

terrablaze514 · 5 years ago

Text

Stay (3x5, 1x2)

Tumblr version...[[Crossposted]]

Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters. My wallet is empty.

Summary: A promise is a promise in the year AC195.

Less than 1K words. Lightly edited.

Warnings: Yaoi involving teenage assassins of the lime variety... *cringe*, implied character death, angst, warm and fuzzy feelings... Mature audiences only.

@7daysaweekgeek-blog @softnocturne

"You're so cute. Just so cute." Trowa cupped the exotic boy's round face. "You must be protected at all costs." "I'm a trained assassin," Wufei replied with a look of disdain. He took Trowa's hands and removed them from his face.

Trowa's visible eye widened in awe. "Wait... that was you? In that Gundam?" "You mean Nataku? I've helped put an end to that squabble between you and Deathscythe." "Oh yeah. I can't believe I've forgotten your face too soon. My apologies." "It's okay. We've just met." Wufei peered at the big tents nearby. No one in sight. Good. "Your Gundam stands out." Trowa nodded. "I've made a few modifications to it myself. Used to work as an engineer on L3, so Doktor S allowed me to pilot it." "That's great," Wufei replied. "Let's review tomorrow's mission plan." Trowa began, "We invade Oz and destroy them at sea. The other Gundam pilots will occupy the base." "We'll fly out, first thing tomorrow morning," Wufei spoke with confidence. "Perfect." It's strange how he met the others in a short period. First, it was Quatre; granted a place to stay in one of his estates. The blonde in question loved music; he had a vast collection of musical instruments. When Trowa played the flute, it offered mental and emotional relief. Quatre's hospitality stood commendable for a Nobel Peace Prize... yet, he held the courage to fight in a war zone. There was Duo, who presented a challenge. Imagine watching two Gundam suits go head-to-head on the battlefield. Duo wasn't cool with the idea that Trowa stole his next "body count", which triggered their fight from the jump. He found it somewhat surprising how "The God of Death" had an upbeat personality. What a coincidence! He met Heero. Such an ominous figure. At least he's shown true dedication on the battlefield. The misfortune written on his face showed proof he wasn't a weapon. He had feelings, too. Torn between life and death as a deck of cards waiting for chance and risk. That 'Oz' shuttle with members of The Alliance did not deserve its fate, had it not been for the cloak pulled by Oz. That wretched Oz! Destroying them will help bring an end to the bloodshed, guilt, inner demons and recurrent nightmares. The demise of the pacifists, as Wufei had pointed out, painted the Gundam pilots in a negative light. Both the Earth and the space colonies, which the teenage warriors had fought to protect, viewed them as the ultimate threat. What a shame. Trowa refocused his attention on Wufei. "Can you do me one huge favour?" "As long it's honourable," Wufei replied. Trowa walked over to the Chinese boy and held his shoulder. "Stay the night. With me." Wufei felt his cheeks burn. He couldn't believe his ears, yet he sensed the sincerity in Trowa's voice. He had to make sure. "Why?" "Because you hold great courage. I can tell. I also struggle with nightmares before having a face-off against Oz soldiers. Any other army, I can sleep well." "I still remember losing my wife." Wufei cupped Trowa's face. He held the European's gaze. "I understand exactly how you feel. We're in this together."

Noses touched. Lips locked. Both pilots entered the tent nearby. They snuggled and kept warm on a makeshift bed. "Thank-you," came Trowa's broken reply. "Pleasure's mine." Wufei pulled the sheets over them. "Wo ai ni."

"Ti Amo."

Their gazes locked once more. Trowa closed the distance between himself and the other boy. Lips locked, tongues danced. Hands roamed and their breaths intensified. Trowa broke the kiss and cupped Wufei's face.

"Let's wait until this war is over."

"Good idea." Wufei adjusted his position. His cotton-clad legs stretched apart. "Promise me you'll stay alive."

Trowa marvelled at the sight beneath him. Exotic beauty fit the definition of his bedmate. Their souls felt desperate and thirsty for fiery consummation, but the war waged on.

If only...

"I will. If anything happens, don't forget me."

"I won't." Wufei reached out and held the European close. In their embrace, Trowa gyrated his hips. Their loins tingled; the air saturated with moans and cries.

A promise is a promise, in case they didn't survive.

-×-+-×-

Meanwhile, Duo stared in shock at the laptop screen. Heero concentrated on the scene before him. Quatre was fast asleep.

All five pilots stayed at this motel yesterday. They've watched the latest headlines, reviewed some mission plans and discussed strategy. Trowa and Wufei had left at dawn. "Mission complete," Heero said. "So spying on them is appropriate?" Heero sent his infamous death glare in Duo's direction. "Omae o korosu..." "Okay, okay!" Blurted Duo. "I won't ask again, I swear."

Heero closed his laptop and sauntered over. "I can do it better, and you won't regret it. Trust me..."

~Owari~

#tb514fanfics #stay #gundam wing #trowa barton #wufei chang #heero yuy #duo maxwell #quatre winner #trowa x wufei #heero x duo

7 notes · View notes

bytheangell · 6 years ago

Note

ELLE ELLE ELLE YOU TOLD ME TO SO IMMA DO IT (kezia here btw). What I really want is a magnus introspective on magnus’ thoughts when he was sending asmodeus into limbo, you can hear some sort of feeling in that ‘goodbye father’. Because if you think about it, he did spend a few centuries with asmodeus and there must still be some sort of filial affection for asmodeus because after all they are family, he called him father after all and not asmodeus. Like how conflicted must he have felt when(1/2)

Goodbye, Father(Read on AO3)

Magnus doesn’t confront Asmodeus as soon as he gets back inside from speaking with Maryse. He knows that would be a mistake - his father is a clever, calculating man, and rushing into this in a swirl of heated emotions would only sabotage himself. Asmodeus loves him, perhaps, but only when it suits him, and only for his own gain. The moment he’s aware that Magnus is no longer on his side or willing to play his games, this charade they’ve been living since Magnus got his magic back will officially be over. And Magnus knows he needs to be level headed to come out with the upper-hand.

He doesn’t say anything immediately upon re-entering the apartment, the door shutting behind him with a now ring-less Maryse in the hallway. He doesn’t say anything for seconds, for minutes, for nearly a full hour, hating that he’s conflicted about what needs to be done. He despises the part of him unwilling to banish his father again, once and for all. The part of him that knows what he should’ve done the moment he had his magic back and had his father in front of him.

Against all reason, Magnus tries to talk to Asmodeus one last time. He isn’t sure what he expects from him - sympathy? A change of heart? A sudden understanding of everything Magnus has here… everything he had here, before Alec gave it all away for what he thought Magnus needed? The ring, for something so small, feels so heavy in his pocket. He’s aware of its presence, of it shifting as he walks, pressing against his body through the thin layer of fabric it’s tucked away in. A ring that should be on his finger now, with Alec by his side.

Magnus knows with sudden clarity that he shouldn’t be here playing family with Asmodeus, he should be home with Alec; Alec, who loves him for who he is, not his lineage or power or potential, but who he is right now.

There’s nothing Magnus wants more in this moment than for his father to see that - to realize the importance of the life he has here and the people in it. Instead Asmodeus scoffs at the idea of marriage, repeating Magnus’ worst fears of fate and destiny, of following in his father’s footsteps, of being one in the same. There’s no getting through to Asmodeus, and Magnus was a fool to think even for a second that he was truly there for Magnus’ sake and well-being instead of his own.

Magnus can feel his entire body tense with every word Asmodeus speaks. With his hands balled at his sides Magnus fights for control, jaw clenching in an effort to keep from shouting and lashing out without a plan. He doesn’t know what he’s going to do when the argument reaches its turning point, as its likely to do if things continue on in this manner. For all the strength and power his father claims he has inside of him Magnus still isn’t positive he’s strong enough to do what needs to be done here and now.

Not until the moment comes.

“We could control the entire Demonic Plane.” This isn’t about love or wanting to have Magnus by his side because he’s his son… because they’re family. It’s only about the joint power they could wield, about control… of edom, and of him. That’s all this was ever about, and it feels like a knife to his gut to see that truth behind every word Asmodeus says, to see nothing behind his father’s eyes besides a thirst for power.

“I should banish you back so Lilith can deal with you instead.” There’s a hint of regret in Magnus’ eyes, a rueful half-smile on his face at the idea of it. To banish Asmodeus would be a kinder fate than what he deserves, and yet even that much would hurt. The short time they spent together, despite the false pretenses, almost felt like a missing piece of his life returned to him. The care of a father who looks out for him and his best interests, who doesn’t want to see his son suffer, who is willing to do whatever it takes to help him get what he wants… a glimpse of a life that might have been, once upon a time.

A glimpse of a life that was never meant for him. Not with the family he was born into.

The idea of leaving Asmodeus for Lilith to deal with isn’t ideal because Lilith’s torment would be worse than anything Magnus could do - it’s because Magnus still isn’t sure he has the strength to do what needs to be done on his own. Not physically, but mentally. Lilith wouldn’t bat a perfectly curled eyelash over ensuring Asmodeus received the sort of punishment he deserves, but Magnus looks into the eyes of his father - imagines his own yellow eyes mirrored back at him - and stops short every time.

“Don’t you get it? I’ll just keep finding my way back to you.” Asmodeus’ touch on his shoulders, the fingers wrapped possessively around his arms, makes Magnus cringe. It’s a touch tainted by the threat of Asmodeus’ promise to never leave him alone, not now, not ever.

He can’t allow Asmodeus to remain here, and if he banishes him back to Edom he’ll only return again the moment an opportunity presents itself. There’s only one other option and Magnus feels sick to his stomach at the thought of it. A fate worse than banishment… a fate worse than death.

He almost doesn’t want to consider it. Even after everything… this is his father. The man who took him off of the streets and raised him, who helped him feel less alone in the world. He did terrible things, unspeakable things, but it would’ve been an upbringing befitting a proper Prince of Edom had Magnus wanted to follow in his father’s footsteps. His father loved him - and still loves him - in his own way. A way where what Asmodeus thinks is best is the only option and he refuses to accept any alternative.

Magnus steadies himself, bracing for what comes next - out of options and time to stall, this is it.

“True. That’s why I won’t be banishing you back to Edom.” Magnus wants to. He’d never admit it to anyone else, certainly not to the man standing in front of him, the man he knows he’d be willing to give second and third and fourth chances to time and time again against his best judgement. Sure, it wouldn’t be for another century or two after the sting of this betrayal and disappointment eventually fades, but a day would come when Magnus would think for the briefest flicker of a moment that maybe his father’s changed and that maybe he could truly love Magnus for himself, for the man he’s become, and not the man Asmodeus wants him to be.

He’d be just as wrong then as he was today.

Magnus opens the portal behind his father.

Red magic snakes out from his fingertips, cords forming that wrap around his father and bind him, pulling Asmodeus down to his knees. Suddenly fearful, Asmodeus’ eyes plead for silent mercy. Another act? Not this time, Magnus thinks, and his heart aches further.

He wishes he could simply banish him, comforted by the thought that he’ll see him again one day. That there’s always the possibility of later, of next time, when things might be better.

But he can’t. Not this time… something is different this time. He’s different, since Alexander. And to think that he almost lost one of the most important people to ever enter his life, all due to his father’s manipulation? That this man who claims to have his best interests at heart intentionally brought Magnus down to one of the lowest points of his entire life just to build him back up again in his image? Magnus can’t go through something like this ever again.

“Do you know what happens when you enter a portal unconscious?” Magnus hears the slight tremor behind his words, strained from the effort of keeping both the portal open and the magic binding Asmodeus as strong as he can manage.

“You- you get lost in limbo.” Asmodeus’ voice is also strained, the dawning realization of the fate that awaits him hitting hard and fast and leaving very little time for surprise or any attempt at self-defense. Magnus almost smiles at that. It wasn’t too long ago that Magnus helped to create the portal, a revolutionary discovery that his father has clearly kept tabs on. If he’s aware of its inner workings then surely he knows that it was his son who invented it, who shared his findings with the world around him. It’s just a reminder of the legacy Magnus is building for himself, a far cry from the one his father wishes for him.

“Forever.”

Magnus’ hand lashes out and his father’s body falls unconscious before flying backwards and disappearing through the swirling vortex of the portal. It closes. The magic fades from Magnus’ palms and he stares shakily at the now empty space in front of him.

“Goodbye, Father.” Magnus’ eyes are damp, shining with the hint of tears he refuses to shed. He shouldn’t mourn for what he’s done, for the loss of an already absent father. It’s better than Asmodeus deserves from him after all he put Magnus through centuries ago and everything he put him through since his trip to Edom.

That doesn’t erase the sadness. Faults aside, Asmodeus is still his father. Magnus may want nothing to do with him but that doesn’t erase the bond of family and magic that they share, and it doesn’t make Asmodeus’ words any less true: if Magnus wants it his lineage is there, destined for greatness in the realm of Edom. It’s in his blood, a birthright of his demonic pedigree.

Except that isn’t him. That isn’t what he wants. Magnus is the sort of warlock who helps others, Warlock, Downworlder, Nephilim, and Mundane alike, not the sort of warlock who claims status and rank to get what he wants. Magnus Bane is trusted, not feared. And what he wants isn’t to rule Edom, or any other facet of this world.

What he wants is a foolish Nephilim who sacrificed everything he wanted to make the person he loves feel whole again. What he wants is love, and the chance at a happiness he never imagined possible for himself anymore.

It truly is a shame that after all this time, after decades and centuries, Asmodeus could never bring himself to simply be content with Magnus’ happiness, his success in the pursuits he chose. Maybe things could’ve been different.

But they aren’t.

Asmodeus did what he did, and Magnus reacted in turn. And now they both have to live with the consequences of those actions.

Forever.

#magnus bane #asmodeus #shadowhunters #shfanficnexus #alec lightwood #i hope you like it!!#something about it feels iffy to me but I can't place it and reading it a million times is only making it worse so #HERE WE ARE #elle writes a few deadbeat lines

42 notes · View notes

tk-duveraun · 6 years ago

Text

Giveaway prize for @briarfox13 featuring her Solasmancer Zephyr! Please check out this awesome character and creator! Fic is post-Trespasser

It was not an aravel. The wagon rocked and rattled, jostling and tossing the supplies with every rock and rivet in the road. But it was serviceable. It carried the supplies and tents used by Cassandra and the few other former Inquisition members that joined Zephyr on her hunt for the Dread Wolf. She would have been faster and quieter alone; with her wits and two horses, she could cover twice the ground as the wagon and her company. But as much as she needed to end things on her own terms, the value of comrades had been beaten and scarred into her flesh during the fight with Corypheus. And the ache in her missing left arm wouldn’t let her forget it.

So the wagon carried the gear during the day and housed her for the scant few hours she slept each night. With the others strategizing and chatting around the campfire, Zephyr painted the inner walls of wagon. Endless boughs that stretched from the floor, across the ceiling panels and back down the other side, twisted and gnarled branches that felt more like home than Clan Lavellan: she made murals completely her own. Though she saw Solas in the corner of her eye and felt his touch in every breeze, the paintings were hers alone.

Her hands were stained yellow and green from the tall grasses representing northern Orlais and Southern Tevinter. She smudged and smeared the excess paint onto her stump of an arm and narrowed her eyes at the harsh lines of the white wolf. The silent hunter, misplaced and carrying secrets to places they should never go. She’d initially balked at the Keeper’s idea of what animal represented her. She was Dirthamen’s chosen; not a supplicant of Fen’harel.

But the Creators were like so much burned food. Once they could have brought life and fulfillment, but now they gave little more than ash and bitter taste. Zephyr would find Solas and turn him from his plan, turn him to teaching the People their history, to correcting the lies and propaganda. To helping them shove off Tevinter and Orlais’ boots for good. Her eyes burned as she spread the teal paint on the wolf’s face. Every night she searched the Fade for him. She understood now: knew how to explain to Solas, how to make him see from her perspective. If she could only find him, Fen’harel could be the freedom-bringer he remembered being.

A breeze brushed against her skin and rustled the grasses painted on wood. They’d spent days in the Fades, exploring and learning, each night that they’d lain together. There was magic in history, in the mundanities lost to time and Zephyr ached to discover them again. The white wolf howled at the blank wood and the grasses snagged and pulled on Zephyr’s armor. Her arms reached back for her bow before she froze, held in an icy grip that wasn’t entirely fear; Fear was also paying her visit.

Zephyr fought and drew her bow, sweeping her aim across the field. “He’s not with me, Demon!”

Throaty, inhuman laughter sent spears of fire into her ears. Zephyr neither cringed nor lowered her bow. The wind picked up until it was a roiling gale, whipping her hair into her face and tearing at her bare cheeks. The grasses bent and bowed under the onslaught, like the Inquisitions soldiers that fought on her orders before dying on their knees. Fire tore across the landscape, howling as it devoured the very air.

“His rage is not mine!” Zephyr shouted, the force of will in her voice drowning out the wailing of wind and fire.

What if it is yours I want? The words were cloying, but sickeningly sweet: sugar and oil congealing into inedible slag.

Her boot raised from ash and stepped onto old, crumbling stone. The Silent Tower spread before her, the rest of the ruins behind. Bow still in hand, She stepped forward. The path was as familiar as Skyhold, though she’d been there only once and with Qunari harrying her steps. Zephyr’s breath fogged in the air as she stood before the mural of Solas removing vallaslin. Skin aching with emptiness, she turned her back on it.

“I am no mage. I’m no use to you.” She feared neither demon nor spirit, not after ages spent traveling the Fade with Solas to teach her its wiles.

Where is your pride now? The whisper struck her face hard enough to force a flinch.

Zephyr raised her chin, looking down at the demons she couldn’t see. “Gone, but I’ll find him before you do.”

Sil-ly lit-tle mor-tal. Each syllable crashed against the ground like so much broken glass. Your pride was stripped from your face!

Zephyr screamed as the nightmare went black, but turned it into a defiant howl before gasping for breath. The ice runes on her arrowhead glowed before the blackness receded and she found herself on the top of the Silent Tower, overlooking the Dales as they burned again, fire dripping from the sky as the Veil fell. The muscles in her jaw tightened. “I made my choice. I make my choices, not the shems, not Fen’harel!”

He left you a child; alone in the woods. Helpless.

Trees burst from the stone on either side of her. Zephyr nocked her arrow and drew her bow. “Not helpless. Never again. I have his secrets. I will stop him.”

Secrets never brought you love before. The demons spoke as a wretched chorus; their words felt more than heard. Neither shall they now. The last syllable shattered the stone beneath her feet and Zephyr fell, firing her arrow into the sky as she did.

Her back hit hard wood, knocking the breath from her lungs. She sat up in a rush, pressing her hands to the wagon’s walls to stay upright. The painted grass under her palms was charred. Above them, the tower loomed. Where once her avatar, her white wolf, stood, was a beast blackened with ash. Embers drifted over its face like so many red eyes.

Zephyr dug her nails into the paint and scratched off thick chunks. “Impossible. No, this can’t be. Who did this? Who did this?”

#solavellan #dragon age inquisition #post-trespasser #inquisitor lavellan #my writing

47 notes · View notes

rhysanoodle · 7 years ago

Text

Into the Light

A/N: In which Elain has two mates, Lucien and Azriel, and has to deal with the results of feeling the bond with Az snap into place before dinner at the townhouse.

Tags: Elriel, angst, fluff

Word count: 1351

AO3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Part 5: Azriel

“How long have you known?” Elain asked timidly. This was the question he was least looking forward to. Taking a deep breath, staring at his feet, he managed to say, “Since the first time I saw you after we returned from Hybern. When Rhys sent me up to the House to check on you and Nesta. I think had I been fully conscious that day, it would’ve snapped into place the second you emerged from the Cauldron. Just like…him.” He swallowed and glanced up at her face. It was soft, contemplative. A whole lot better than he’d imagined it when he’d practiced this conversation in his head.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Azriel cringed, shadows flaring up around him as if to form a protective barrier around him. He shooed then away with a thought. “I saw how you were still in love with Graysen, how sad you were not only about the transformation, but also the loss of everything you had in your mortal life. I couldn’t add to that burden.” Now for the tricky part.

“And besides, Lucien had already claimed he was your mate that day in Hybern. I knew it was only a matter of time before he managed to show up and I couldn’t make myself get in the middle of that. Things could have gotten rather messy. We didn’t even know each other. You never would’ve chosen to be with me.” Az took a deep, steadying breath. “So I decided to get to know you the only way I knew how. I’d check in on you in the House of Wind, always playing the role of dutiful spymaster and friend, not that you really seemed to notice my existence. As soon as you started leaving the House, I’d sit with you in the garden.” She gave his hand a slight squeeze, a reassurance that she too remembered those relaxing days spent in the sun.

“At first, I was just satisfied by being near you, listening to the sounds of you toiling in the flowerbeds. I pretended I was just there to sun my wings. I could see how passionate you were, and it think it brought out the best in me too. I noticed that during those bright, sunny days with you, surrounded by colorful flowers, my shadows were kept more at bay when they weren’t being useful. Then, I started to take an interest in gardening. Sometimes I’d read books in the House of Wind library all day looking for some clever tip you may not have heard of just the see the look of joy on your face as you considered the possibilities.” He couldn’t help the slight upturn that teased at the corner of his mouth. It was a constant anytime he thought about her nowadays. His incredible mate — well not yet, but maybe, oneday.

“And then you started opening up to me. You’d want me to be the one to fly you between the two houses. You’d look over and tell me a joke as you worked. You’d sneak me a pastry you came up with. You’d confide in me and share your visions with me occasionally. And then you were captured by the Cauldron. Feyre told me about the dream you’d had. That Graysen was calling out to you. Regardless, I knew I had to go save you, even if it meant wrecking myself in the process. You were worth it, even if I knew you were still unequivocally in love with him. I was going out of my mind thinking about you being trapped by that demon king.” He shuddered at the memory, trying to push it out of his mind.

“And then the final battle happened. Rhys had ordered me not to fight, but I’d be damned if I wasn’t going to give you the best chance at surviving, of winning, that I possibly could. So I gave you Truth-Teller. I knew it would always strike true and do its best to protect you.”

“I think in my own, useless way, I was trying to tell you how I felt too, trying to tell you the truth. So that if we didn’t come back from the battle, you’d have an inkling of the feelings that I was developing for you,” he whispered this last part, cheeks flushing as he remembered baring himself to her, as he was doing now.

“But then we survived somehow, and you gave it right back. So I stayed in the shadows. Always looking out for you, but never directly in your line of sight. You had enough going on with your family. I’ve thought about telling you before now, but you still look at him with such disgust. I think I was just scared you’d outright reject me too.” His hands dropped hers, as if his body was mirroring his inner feelings. Surely she wouldn’t reciprocate his affections.

“Is that really what you think?”

“Can you blame me?”

Elain didn’t meet his eyes.

“How is this situation even possible? How can I have two mates?” This was the most baffling part of their predicament, but he’d been researching it ever since he’d discovered the bond.

“I’ll admit it’s rare, but not unheard of. You’re incredibly special. You were made by the Cauldron. I’m not sure how it decides who to favor, but it graced you with gifts. It made you a seer and recognized two males who were your equals, who it thought could fulfill you as a partner. It gave you the gift of choice in that sense as well. Not that you are by any means obligated to select either of us, but it gave you a potential connection unlike any other with two males. I’ve never seen this kind of favor granted in my five centuries, although I’ve heard of it in legends.”

He turned toward her and took her hand again, cursing himself for breaking the contact earlier. She didn’t pull away.

“I just want you to know that I don’t expect anything of you. Anything to come of this. If you’ll give me the chance, I’d love to court you properly one day, but I think we both have enough to work through for the time-being.”

She nodded meekly. Not really giving him much of a sense of how she was processing this information.

“If it’s alright with you, I’m going to head back to my room before Cassian notices I’m missing. Goodnight, Elain. And happy Solstice.”

He made for the door.

“Wait.”

Shocked, he turned around. She hadn’t stopped him the other night. What was so different now?

“I think I’d like that.”

“Are you sure?” He inched toward her.

“The last year has been difficult for me, yes, but I think I’d like to try again. Start over. I’ve had butterflies in my stomach for the past few days just thinking about that kiss on my hand the other night, and I’d very much like to feel that again.”

“Oh would you now?” He swiftly closed the distance between them. He could feel her breath hot against his skin as he lowered his face to hers. Gods. She had no idea the effect she had on him. He’d been waiting for this moment for months. Slowly, carefully, as if he had all the time in the world, he kissed her. His blood thrumming, it took more restraint than he was willing to admit to limit himself to just this.

She kissed him back for a moment before pulling away, flustered. “But maybe we just keep it between us for now? Until we know if this will work? If we will work?” Her voice came out an octave higher than normal. How adorable.

The Shadowsinger chuckled. “Well, you know how much I love keeping secrets. Consider this our little secret.” With a bow, he vanished into the shadows.

Az rematerialized in the bathing room on the floor below, grateful he’d had the strength to walk away before he lost his restraint and pushed her further past her boundaries tonight, and took a very, very cold bath.

< Previous Masterlist Next >

Tags: @acourtofabsandillyrians @heyyitsangie

#elriel #elain #elain archeron #azriel #elain and azriel #elain and az #acofas #acofas spoilers #acofas spoiler #a court of frost and starlight #acotar #acomaf #acowar #fanfic #my fic #into the light

124 notes · View notes

abadoodlesss · 7 years ago

Text

Sometimes The Job’s Worth It - Chapter Four!

Read the previous chapters here

Next Chapter

Summary: Castiel comes at the request of Dean to try and rid Jane of her unpleasant memories, much to Sam’s dismay. Family fighting and some poorly chosen words lead to lots of complicated, possibly dangerous, situations.

Jane stared at the man before her. He was an intimidating figure, almost matching the height of the oldest Winchester. He held eye contact with Jane, seemingly staring into her soul with his piercing blue eyes.

“An angel?” Jane repeated, in a bit of disbelief. Castiel looked like a regular man to her, nothing like what she expected angels to be. Where were the flowing white robes? The long hair? The beautiful wings? Then again, she pictured demons to have red skin and horns protruding from their heads. That depiction couldn’t have been further from the truth, so who was she to be deciding what an angel should look like?

“Yes, I am Castiel, an ang-”

“We got that part already, buddy.” Dean said, patting a hand on Castiel’s shoulder as he walked over to Jane. “Jane, this is a friend of ours.” Dean continued. “He can...uh, help you.”

“With what?”

“We’ve noticed you’ve been acting a little strange.” Sam said, trying to put things lightly, coming to his brother’s side.

Jane mentally kicked herself. Of course they noticed! You’ve been acting like a psycho since you’ve met them! She thought to herself.

“What do you mean?” She asked, feigning ignorance.

“Kid, we know something's up.” Dean said flatly.

“Whatever’s going on, we want to help you.” Sam offered, aggravated with Dean’s lack of sensitivity.

“I appreciate that you’re concerned but really, nothing’s going on.” Jane lied, opening her Snickers as she climbed on the bed to watch whatever was playing on the small television.

Dean sighed. He knew what Jane must be upset about it, it was obvious. She had lost everything she had less than a week ago and all she had gained were the Winchesters. It wasn’t an easy situation to be in, unfamiliar and awkward not even mentioning dangerous. She was also obviously hurting, she lost her parents. Dean knew exactly what it felt like. He wished he had someone to comfort him in those times, but now here was Jane, turning away the help he wished he had gotten.

“If you’re sure.” Sam said, interrupting Dean’s inner monologue before the frustrating thoughts could start pouring out.

“I am.” Jane said, turning to the three men, having forgotten Castiel was even there.

“Jane,” Dean started, taking a seat on the bed by her feet while avoiding Sam’s hand that tried grabbing him away. “We just want to help. Talking things out can-”

“I’m fine.” She said curtly, not bothering to look his way.

“Kid-”

“Dean, I don’t need your help.” She snapped, glaring at him for a moment before returning her attention to the TV.

Dean puffed out his chest, ready to start a real argument but Sam grabbed onto his upper arm, dragging him off the bed.

“So my assistance is no longer necessary?”

Sam opened his mouth to confirm but Dean had other ideas.

“You know, Sammy and I haven’t been to a bar in a while. You wouldn’t mind watching Jane if we head out for a bit, right?”

Castiel looked at Dean slightly confused. He knew enough about Dean Winchester to understand he was plotting, but to what the actual plan was, Cas was oblivious.

Dean grabbed his car keys, whispering to Cas as he passed “Figure out what’s going on with her.” They gave each other a nod before Dean called, “Let’s go Sam.” storming out to the Impala.

“So you’re an angel?” Jane asked, sitting with her legs crossed, staring at Castiel who hasn’t moved since he arrived.

“Yes. I am an angel of the lord.”

After a silent moment, Jane blurted out a burning question. “If you’re an angel….where are your wings?”

She was timid to ask, but her curiosity was much stronger than her fear.

Though Jane’s family had never been particularly religious, she was (almost) positive angels didn’t run around the mortal world in trench coats, so why was Castiel like this? She had heard of fallen angels however, cast out of Heaven for pissing off the big man upstairs. Did they lose their wings when they came crashing down from on high? She shuffled further back on the bed when that idea surfaced.

“They aren’t visible to your human eyes.”

“Now that just sounds like an excuse.” Jane joked, but Castiel didn’t seem to get it. “So how do you know the Winchesters?”

“I was the angel that raised Dean from perdition.”

“What’s perdition?”

“The eternal state of punishment you know as Hell.”

Jane looked at Castiel wide-eyed. A few thousand questions railed into her mind.

Hell is real? Dean went to Hell? Why? How? When? Again: Hell is real?!

Castiel was able to read Jane’s mind without really using his powers, her confusion was evident on her face. “Dean died many years ago and went to Hell. I brought him back as he was desperately needed.”

“Dean died?”

“Many times. Sam has as well.”

Jane had more questions but they were clouded by this new revelation that Hell was real. She was always hopeful that you went somewhere after you died but the thought that there was a Hell gave her chills. She had heard that a single sin could get you into Hell, which is why you had to go to confession and pray for forgiveness often, neither of which had her parents ever done since she was born. They must have accumulated a fair amount of sins in their lifetime that hadn’t been forgiven. Jane cringed at the idea, going to hug her knees as a chill ran up her spine.

Castiel watched the girl intently. It felt wrong to read the young girl’s mind, especially when he found her thinking of something so personal and heartbreaking, but he had to. Dean asked him to help this girl and if she wasn’t going to say what was wrong verbally, he had to result to an alternate plan.

“You’re thinking about your parents.” Castiel stated bluntly.

Jane’s eyes darted over to his figure without turning her head away as she held her knees to her chest tightly.

“It’s normal to miss them.” He offered when she refused to speak. “You’re allowed to be upset.”

“I wasn’t asking for permission.” She said coldly, instantly regretting it. “I’m sorry it’s just- it’s more than that. You don’t get it.” Jane said, waving him off before things got too sentimental.

“I don't. But you could explain it.” Castiel tried but to little avail. “You’re hurting. It’s natural to want to talk about it.”

Jane hated that he was making these assumptions so easily. She hated the way he said them as though he were reading facts out of a book. She hated that he was right about each one. Still, she remained silent, continuing to bottle up the thoughts threatening to pour out.

Castiel resulted to tapping into her thoughts to try to gain any helpful information but was only met with a swarm of repeated thoughts filling the girl’s mind. He stared at her incredulously, shocked at what he was hearing. “You feel at fault.”

“Aren’t I?” She spoke in a soft voice, unable to look at the angel. “I hid and-” Her voice cracked as she rested her head on her kneecaps, squeezing her eyes shut to trap in her tears.

“You couldn’t have done anything.”

“I could have tried. I just hid in the bathroom and prayed for someone else to fix everything.”

“I know.” He said. “Your prayers were heard, but there wasn’t anything anyone could have done.” Castiel offered. Jane’s head perked up at what he had said.

“You heard me praying?” She asked, narrowing her eyes as she stared up at the angel.

“Yes, angels are able to hear all prayers and-”

“All the angels heard me and did nothing?” Jane continued, her voice holding a tone of disgust as she got up and made her way over to Castiel. “You heard me crying and pleading for help and you ignored me? Why? How could you just leave me there like that?”

“You have to understand-” Castiel started, backing away from the girl as she closed in.

“What? That there was nothing an all-powerful being like you could have done to help?”

“There are some matters in which angels cannot interfere.”

“Why? Was it some sort of fate that my entire family had to die?”

“It’s not our place. If direct orders aren’t given-”

As tears welled in her eyes, Jane swung out her hand, slapping the angel across his face. Not bothering to stick around for his reaction, she ran out of the motel room.

Dean downed another shot, slamming the glass down onto the table.

“You want to take it easy there?” Sam asked from across the table, nursing his first bottle of Bud Light.

“I don’t get it Sam. There is something wrong and we just want to help. Why wouldn’t she want that?”

“People have different ways of coping.” Sam said but Dean didn’t accept that answer.

“She shouldn’t have to go through it alone.” Dean grumbled.

“I agree, but you have to think about it from her perspective.” Sam started, knowing he was asking a lot of his brother to think logically, especially when he was angry. “She lost her family and doesn’t know us very well. Besides, I still don’t think getting Cas involved is a great idea. We can comfort and support Jane but erasing her memories? That’s not how you deal with-”

Dean didn’t care to hear the rest, he was already making his way to the bar to get himself another shot.

He knew Sam was right. He always is. But hearing the truth about the situation is only more frustrating. Dean couldn’t help everyone. It was always hard to accept that not everyone can be 100% fixed but it didn’t make him feel any less shitty.

Dean downed three more shots, letting out a groan as the last one slid down his throat.

“Rough night?” A voice called.

Dean turned to meet a tall Asian woman. She was dressed in a tight red dress and matching heels with her hair in light waves. She was beautiful, charming Dean with her warm eyes.

“That obvious?” Dean asked with a chuckle as the woman sat beside him.

“Well I don’t know how much I can help, but I can at the very least get your next drink.” She said with a seductive smile.

“No objections here.” He said as the woman order the two of them drinks. “I’m Dean.”

“Christine.” She said with a sweet smile.

The two kept chatting, drinking and getting to know each other. She was flirty, Dean dare admit as flirty as he was.

She was in the midst of tying a cherry stem with her tongue when Dean’s phone started ringing. Pulling it out of his pocket and seeing the caller ID.

It was Jane.

“Is that your girlfriend?” Christine joked.

Dean pressed decline and threw his phone down. “No, no she’s- she’s my little sister.”

“What are you guys fighting about?”

“Are you a mind reader or just very good at guessing?” Dean asked with a laugh.

“You hit decline pretty quickly, seemed odd.” She defended. “Whenever I’m avoiding someone, especially that quickly, it’s normally because we’re fighting.”

“Yeah, she doesn’t exactly know I’m- well I’m not really mad at her it’s just-”

“Complicated?” Christine finished for him.

“Exactly.” He said with a smile, keeping eye contact with Christine as they each took a sip of their drinks.

His phone started ringing again.

Jane.

Declined.

“So where were we?” He asked, leaning closer to Christine. A sultry smile tugged at her red painted lips.

His phone started ringing again. He had half the mind to just hit decline a third time but guilt tugged at his gut.

“I should probably answer, just to make sure she’s alright.” Dean said, going for his phone.

Christine grabbed his hand. “She’s sixteen years old, she’s fine to stay home alone.”

Dean ripped his hand away from Christine’s. He never told her Jane’s age or that she was even home alone. Dean quickly accepted the call but Christine slapped the phone out of his hands, letting it fall to the floor. She covered the phone with her foot, driving the heel of her stilettos into the phone’s screen, cracking more than just the glass.

Dean looked up at Christine to see her pitch black eyes.

“Dean!” Sam yelled. He had his phone in hand, talking to someone.

Dean turned to grab onto Christine but she had disappeared. There was no time to care, something was wrong with Jane. He scooped up his broken phone before running with Sam to the Impala.

Jane rubbed her bare arms as she let out a shiver, watching the cloud of her own breath drift up into the starlit sky. Another shiver had her wishing for a jacket, but in her anger induced exit, she forgot to grab one.

She had run out of the hotel room after slapping Castiel. Where she was going, she didn’t know, nor did she care. She needed to clear her head and walking was always the way she had done it.

Her anger was quelled rather quickly, her adrenaline being replaced with nerves. The road she was on was dark, devoid of any cars, of any houses, just open fields that turned into woods further back. She was totally alone, vulnerable, jumping at each slight sound.

Her phone battery was running low as it was wasted on using her flashlight to navigate the maze of streets.

Before her phone could abandon her, found Dean’s name in her contact list. It rang four times before going to voicemail. She was almost glad for didn’t know what she was going to say.

Hey, I got upset, slapped your angel friend and now I’m alone and cold on some dark road in the middle of nowhere. Can you come get me?

It would only annoy Dean and that’s the last thing she wanted to do, but she had to call someone. Sighing, she pressed his name again, and again it went to voicemail. One more time.

Three rings and her phone died, displaying a blinking empty battery.

Fan-freaking-tastic.

Her best bet was to turn around and hope she could find her way back, so that’s what she did.

A single street light was lit and in the amber glow stood a man, staring at her.

Maybe wandering around is my best bet. She thought, turning back around to continue walking aimlessly away from the motel when she crashed into someone.

“Hiya Janie.” Called the tall Asian woman in a very skimpy red dress she bumped into. The woman blinked her kind eyes to reveal the black eyes of a demon.

Jane took off sprinting in the direction of the creepy man under the streetlight only to find he wasn’t there, rather right beside her already clutching her arm.

“Let go of me!” Jane cried, trying to rip her arm away to no avail.

“We’re going to need to take you with us. There’s a very special someone who would like to meet you.” The woman said with a wicked smile.

Jane was relentlessly struggling against the demon when a familiar low rumble of a car stilled the group, blinding them with its headlights as the Impala turned onto the road.

“What’s going on?” Dean asked as they sped down the road in the Impala. Sam was on the phone currently, not answering any of Dean’s questions. “Sam?” Dean called. Ignored again, Dean groaned and grabbed the phone away from Sam.

“What’s wrong are you okay?” Dean asked into the phone.

“I am fine, it was only a small slap.” The gravelly voice of Castiel answered.

“Cas? Where’s Jane?”

“She ran out of the hotel room after slapping me across the face.”

“Where is- Why did she slap you?”

“I may have chosen a few incorrect words when trying to provide comfort.”

“Do you know where she is?” Sam called.

“Yes, but I’m afraid she won’t listen to me.”

“You’ll have to go anyways. I think there’s demons after her.”

“She’s on Shaker Road, approximately 2.6 miles away from the motel.”

“Alright, we’ll meet you there Cas.” Dean said, hanging up the phone and tossing to his brother as he slammed on the gas pedal.

We’re coming kiddo.

#ooo cliffhanger!#dun dun dun #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural imagine #winchester sister #dean winchester #Sam Winchester #sam and dean #castiel #demons #supernatural

21 notes · View notes

takadasaiko · 8 years ago

Text

Demons at the Door: Chapter Five

FFN II AO3

Summary: Solomon searches for answers, Nez and Dumont find some troubling news, and Tom receives a phone call that can only add to the chaos in the Keens' lives.

Chapter Five: Going Home

He hadn't slept in at least twenty-four hours. Dumont was working through both the information from Kat's laptop and the cloned phone they'd brought to him. He had reminded them in true Dumont fashion that genius couldn't be rushed, but he was uncovering information that might prove useful if they could verify it.

On Liz's end, Tom had found out that Aram had been arrested for being in contempt of a grand jury investigation into the Task Force, compliments of Julian Gale and Kate Kaplan. They'd tried to force him to testify against the Task Force and the poor guy had ended up in holding when he refused. They had a plan, but what that was Liz hadn't divulged. The call had been interrupted by Dumont needing his attention.

"This is looking more and more like a set up," Nez murmured as they walked through the doors of where Scottie was being held.

"How'd that lead you were following down pan out?"

"Still waiting," she answered as they pulled their IDs for the guard and slid them over.

"Anyone I know?"

"Sorry, Mr Keen. Your access has been revoked."

Tom's attention pulled immediately to the guard. "What?"

"It's a short list. You're off it."

He felt his temper flare. Howard. He hadn't spoken to him, but he'd sure as hell done something about it.

"What about me?" Nez asked and the guard shrugged.

"You're credentials are still good to go, ma'am."

Tom's phone buzzed and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to get control of the anger. "Go," he growled and hit the accept button for the phone. "Keen."

"Tom, I'm glad I was able to reach you."

A chill swept through him at the voice. "Kaplan?" he breathed, immediately going for the door. The last thing he needed was someone eavesdropping on this conversation. "Liz has been looking for you."

"I found her, but I need to take… steps to ensure that everything is taken care of in the event that things go badly."

Dark blue eyes swept the street. "How's that?" he asked carefully.

"Everything I've done has been to protect her. To protect that little girl of yours, but I was so focused on keeping Raymond away from them that I..." Her voice caught and she sounded tired. So tired. "I'm meeting with her shortly and I'm going to show her the truth. If something happens, if Raymond finds a way to kill me before that happens, I need you to make sure she sees it. I need you to make sure she knows."

"Knows what, Kate?" Tom managed, and for just a moment she was the woman who had risked everything to get them away from Reddington, not the one that was continuing to turn Liz and her team's lives upside down.

"The truth. Listen closely. If I die, I need you to follow these instructions to the letter."

Kate Kaplan walked him through it carefully, detailing out the bus station, the locker, and the combination. He would find a suitcase there. He was to take it to Liz. Under no circumstances could Raymond Reddington get his hands on the suitcase or Liz would never find the answers that she needed about her past and who he was to her.

"You know how hard Raymond will fight to keep his secrets."

"Can't you just tell her? I mean, I get contingency plans, but-"

"Will you do this for her, Tom, or won't you?"

"It's Liz's past. You know I'm going to help, but-"

"Someone will be in touch," she said sharply and the call ended, leaving Tom standing on the sidewalk with the phone pressed to his ear and a terrible feeling clawing at him. He'd hoped that the war between Reddington and Kaplan might have different resolution for Liz's sake if no one else's. From the way Kate Kaplan had just spoken, though, she thought she was going to her death.

The lights flickered on, startling the man chained to the chair in the middle of the room. He looked up, eyes wide and terrified, and he started to struggle against the restraints again.

"Yeah, that's not going to work," Solomon's smooth voice sounded from the corner he'd been crouched in, long fingers working through the tools he'd brought with him. The location wasn't ideal, but he had had to make do. Halcyon's protection had kept him safe from the Cabal while he'd worked for Scottie, but with Scottie Hargrave sitting behind bars and Howard Hargrave at the helm, he counted himself lucky that they weren't actively pursuing him. Especially with Tom Keen as the long-lost son finally come home. He should have put a bullet in the little bastard's head when he had the chance. It would have saved them all a lot of trouble.

"What do you want?" his captive's shaky voice brought him back around and he stood, a chain wrapped around his left hand and a wicked looking knife in his right.

"I want a great many things," Solomon said, circling around from behind and watching the man cringe. "Today, though, I want something you can give me."

"I don't have anything."

"Everyone has something, and you, my good man, have information. Now, you have two options. We can have a civilized conversation. Questions, answers. You know the drill. Or-" he let some of the chain loose, the heavy metal unraveling and clanking - "this could get messy. Your choice."

"I-I don't even know what you want from me," the man stammered.

"You were part of a team that built a Quantum Computing prototype. Who was it for?"

The engineer blinked hard. "I was always told it was for Ms Hargrave and Halcyon Aegis."

"And was it?"

He looked terrified. "Dr Banning would know. He was the one that worked with Ms Hargrave. I'd never seen the woman outside of news interviews until you and she came into the lab a few weeks back."

"Banning?" Solomon clarified.

"He's the lead engineer on the project. Please," he swallowed hard, "that's all I know."

Solomon flashed him a charming smile, letting the chain clatter to the floor and watching the man wince. "I believe you," he said simply, tucking his knife away in an inner coat pocket.

The man barely had time to look relieved, much less register what was happening as Solomon pulled his gun from its holster and left a hole between his eyes. He couldn't risk loose ends where he was.

She didn't like the way things were adding up. It was no coincidence that Tom had been on the short list of people allowed in to see Scottie and that after one visit he was off. It felt like an intentional roadblock to the investigation, and as far as Nez knew there were only a few people with the power to do what had been done. The FBI could have done it, but they had no reason to. Agent Lamb was open and relatively friendly with them, keeping them apprised of the case against Scottie. If the guards at the jail had felt he was a threat, they might have some pull, but that didn't seem to fall in line either. That left either the Board or Howard himself, and as far as Nez was aware the Board had no idea who Tom was, therefore no reason to be uncomfortable with him speaking with Scottie when the investigation he was on linked to hers. They'd know soon enough. Tom was on his way to Howard's office, and she wondered if he was having to work as hard as she was to not jump to a conclusion without all the facts.

"Tell me you have good news, Dumont," the weapons specialist sighed as she took a heavy seat in an empty chair in his work space.

He glanced over, almost like he hadn't heard her approach at all. "Good and bad. Which do ya want first?"

Nez cringed. "Let's go with bad."

"There's a hell of a lot of information. It's going to take a lot of time to sift through everything without help."

"Our trust pool is getting smaller."

"Yeah? Who's in it right now?"

"You, me, and Tom."

"Cozy," he chuckled, and seemed to know better than to ask why Howard wasn't in there as well. "So, good news is I found a number that I'm ninety-nine percent sure will link us to our John Doe'a employer."

"There's more bad news?"

"Yeah. Burner and long since deactivated, but-" Dumont's fingers flew over the keyboard- "with a little luck and a hell of a lot of skill, I was able to track down a collection of texts. I sorted through them and found a place where they met physically to exchange information. The Network wasn't overhead at the time, but New York has more than a few surveillance cameras. Ever get the feeling you're being watched?"

"All the damn time," Nez answered. "So?"

"So, I got into the systems and the image is rendering. As soon as it's done, we're gonna have a face to connect as Kat's murderer's boss."

"How long?"

Dumont shrugged. "I've got it running top priority, but the file's big." He pulled up a file and Nez could see the image, clearing up pixel by pixel. It looked like two men at a food truck by a park. One, if stature was anything to go off of, was their Trevor Sanders.

"Can you speed it up by focusing in on that guy?" Nez asked, pointing to the blob of a man standing next to their murderer.

He gave a grunt of affirmation and punched in the command. The rest of the rendering froze, all the program's effort put into the parameters that Dumont had set around the man's face.

Nez brushed the back of her hand against her nose and leaned forward, elbows on her knees as if being closer would speed it up. "I reached out to Mattie."

She saw Dumont stiffen. "Why?"

"Because he's good. Because he can fly under radars even we can't."

"Is he?"

"He's checking into things for me. He said he'd reach out."

Dumont swallowed hard. "You told Tom yet?"

"I'm trying to figure out how to," she admitted softly. "I think it was the right move, but Tom's got a lot to deal with right now. I mean, that's a hell of an emotional overload, and he and Solomon don't exactly get along."

Dumont snorted. "Understatement, but I'm not sure you can blame them. Solomon nearly killed his wife when he worked for the Cabal. Threatened to filet her or something like that."

Nez winced. "He does have a flare."

"Then Agnes nearly died when she was born."

"Tom never told me that."

"Yeah. Apparently that and the fact Liz nearly died then too is what earned Solomon a bullet to the gut, then we have everything that happened between them here… Lots of bad blood." He looked up at her. "Don't give him a reason not to trust you."

It sounded like a plea and Nez cringed. This had been hard on Dumont. He could take secrets, but he didn't take well to betrayal. "I'll tell him," she promised, and the beeping in the computer pulled both of their attentions to the video where a man in a cap stepped up to the trick where Trevor Sanders was ordering something. The angle was bad and Nez frowned, willing him to turn. It took a moment, but he did, and she felt her breath catch.

"Dammit," Dumont grumbled.

"Get it off our systems. Now."

"Done and done, sister. Where's Tom? He should know."

Nez's pale gaze remained on the image of Howard Hargrave on Dumont's screen. "In with him now," she murmured.

"You don't think he'll hurt his own kid, do you?"

She closed her eyes, a breath escaping. "I don't know what that family is capable of anymore."

"Sir, he's in a meeting. You can't go in there."

Tom ignored the secretary as he pushed the office door open, finding Howard sitting with a man that he vaguely recognized as one of the Board members. Both men looked a little started at his sudden appearance, but Howard recovered first. "Tom. You met Albert, didn't you? He's been with Halcyon for… what?"

"ThIrty-three years next month," Albert answered.

Howard flashed a friendly smile. "One of our senior Board members. This is Tom Keen." He paused for just half a beat, as if trying to decide how he wanted introduce his son whose death certificate was still on file with the state of New York "He's leading the investigation into Kat Carlson's murder."

"That's what I'm here about," Tom said tightly, offering only the briefest of nods at the Board member before turning his sharp gaze back on Howard.

"Great. Albert and I will be done here in ten or twenty minutes."

"This really can't wait."

Howard didn't look startled by his tone, necessarily, but his eyes did narrow just a little.

"We were about done anyway," Albert said as he stood, buttoning his suit jacket. "Good chat, Howard. I think Halcyon is heading in the right direction. I'm looking forward to seeing where you take us."

Tom kept his expression even as he watched his father shake the man's hand and remained exactly where he was until Albert had left. He heard Howard loose a breath. "What on earth is so important that you barge in her in the middle of a meeting with a man that has influence to sway the whole damn Board?"

"I told you that I'd stay on to find out who attacked Kat. I put off going home to my wife and child because I thought Kat deserved that. I thought you agreed."

Howard stiffened, his gaze becoming a bit more guarded in light of Tom's tone. "I do."

"Then why the hell are you putting up roadblocks to it?" His temper was boiling to a dangerous level and he hadn't realized just how pissed he really was.

The older man held his gaze for a moment before speaking in much calmer tones. "Tell me what's happened, son. We'll get it fixed."

Tom snorted. He knew a manipulation tactic when he saw one. "You shut off my access to see Scottie."

"Ah," his father breathed and he turned, moving to the office's bar as he spoke. "She can't give you anything of value in the investigation."

"That's not for you to decide."

"Tom," Howard said slowly, offering him a glass of amber liquid with a couple of ice cubes clinking together, "I know you want to trust her, but Scottie is where she is because of what she's done. She's lied and she's manipulated and she'll continue to do it if you give her an outlet."

A soft buzzing sound came from his pocket and he risked a look, seeing Liz's face lighting up the screen. He hit decline. He hated not taking her calls when they came, but this needed to be dealt with. "I want to trust you, Howard, but every turn I'm taking you keep giving me reasons not to."

His father winced at the tone and leaned against the bar. "That's not my intention."

"Then fix it. Don't get in the way of the avenues I need to take to get to the bottom of this. I'm good at what I do. You've seen that. If I think that interviewing Scottie is a viable avenue to take, then I'm going to take it." He set the still-full glass Howard had given him on the counter, the screen lighting up on his phone from a text. Call me when you get a chance. He wasn't sure what had happened, but Liz rarely texted right after calling. Something was wrong. "I have to call Liz back."

He turned, but Howard's voice made him pause. "I'll get your name back in the approved list of visitors, but Tom? Please, be careful, son. You don't know her like I do."

Tom didn't answer, but put the ringing phone to his ear as he passed by Tanya's desk. "Hey, babe. Everything okay?"

There was a short pause before she answered, her voice worn and tired. "Kate's dead."

Tom pulled in a steadying breath. "I'm on my way."

"You don't have to-"

"I have to tie up some loose ends, but I'll swing by and pick up Wing Yee's on the way in for dinner. How does that sound?"

"Perfect," she breathed on the other end, sounding relieved.

"See you in a few hours. I love you." He ended the call and risked a glance back. This investigation, Howard, everything would need to wait, at least for the moment. Liz needed him and he'd made her wait long enough. He was going home.

Notes: I was so excited when I finished writing this chapter because the first four were a constant balancing act of trying to make sure that I had the timelines straight. I think there was likely some overlap with where Redemption ended and the main show picked back up after its Spring Hiatus. I guess we'll see next season when it comes back and we find out what Tom was doing for multiple episodes that overlapped in filming. For the sake of this story, though, there was some timeline overlap and we are now finally caught up :D

There should also be quite a bit more Keen2 and Team Keen moving forward, which makes this writer's heart very happy.

Next time - Tom and Liz face what the bones could mean for Liz's revelation about Reddington and Nez takes a trip to DC.

#the blacklist #the blacklist: redemption #fanfiction #Tom Keen #Elizabeth Keen #Nez Rowan #Matias Solomon #Dumont #Howard Hargrave

8 notes · View notes

ceej-midnight-rain-era · 5 years ago

Text

My whole identity feels like an oxymoron.

I want to know what it's like to love someone, to look forward to every interaction and feel shivers go down my spine everytime they hug me. I want to celebrate every little thing with them, to see every emotion on their face and to hear every word out of their mouth. I want to be so gods damn inlove it would make other people cringe. I want to know what it feels like to bear my soul to someone, every happy memory and dark thought that lurks in the back of my mind but still be accepted. I want to celebrate every valentine, every new year, Hanukkah/Christmas/ even a Saturnalia with someone that just wanted me as I am, this broken and dark thing that still enjoys things like romance and fantasy novels even if I keep dissing on how unrealistic it is. I want to know what it feels like when I'm vulnerable with someone and instead of using it against me they try to shelter me from the cruel things in this world, they'd battle my inner demons with me or even just hold your hand as I fight my own battles.

Sadly it feels like that's not what's destined for me,

See, I've had knights who've battled a few dragons for me, I've had a few princes call me to lay down my hair so that they may climb the tower, every noble gentleman (and some not so chivalrous naives) that I've encountered gave me hope that there must be some happily ever after waiting for me, but I was wrong, because I'm not the princess you save from a tower, I'm not the maiden that gets swept off her feet once the guy sees her, I'm just that cynical reader that simply observes other people's stories. Sometimes though I feel like I'm that poison apple from Snow White, the one that looks perfectly fine and healthy on the outside but completely rotten and will definitely kill you once ingested. Because that's what I do, I've burned bridges that didn't need burning, I've hurt people with my own bad judgements and I hate saying sorry because I feel like I can never express how genuinely guilty I am. Every relationship I've built has either been shredded, decayed or left forgotten, all because I'm too much of a coward to give someone else the ability to hurt me.

I don't really know if I want "love" or if I just don't want to be alone

I know a lot of people talk about it and society has so many books and articles about how scary love can be, but really it's so gods damn TERRIFYING to me who's just observing what it can do to people, how crazy someone acts all for the sake of love. The worst thing I've seen it do is trap people, sure there are people out there who've killed for love, but there are so many others out here living a shell of a life because they've chased this idea of love for so long that once they've caught it, they look around and see they've ran so far that they're lost and now they would rather stay lost than try to find some direction other than the map that society gave them for this wondrous treasure called LOVE. I've seen houses filled with children who never heard "I love you" from their parents, I've seen the resentment in a mother's eyes towards children that got them stuck with a deadbeat husband, I've seen disgust between so many married couples that I couldn't even classify them as redeemable for a marrige counsellor. I'm not saying that love isn't real, I've never actually seen a "happy marriage" but I blame that on me not getting out more often to see the world, but what I have seen are teenagers so infatuated I think they have hearts in their eyes, I've seen so many honeymoon phase couples it almosts makes me want to barf, but those things could almost make me hope that somewhere out there in over 7 billion people there's someone who'd be fine getting stuck with a girl who's filled her room with 3 bookcases to have her own mini library, a girl who's mood changes like the weather and is just a violent as a hurricane or sometimes just as mellow as a spring breeze, one who laughs over horror films and jumpscares but still doesn't want to go through a dark corridor because I don't even want popcorn I'd rather watch some Barbie franchised film first before leaving the couch. A girl who's too scared to feel real heartbreak so instead she'd rather pick apart flaws in her relationships, throw gasoline over a burning match and watch it burn away every happy memory, every joyful laughter and all those tender kisses, because this girl might never believe it's worth every tear shed over unresponded calls, every biting remark over her inability to show affection, every flawed aspect of her appearance showing up in the mirror when she's faced with the insecurity of never being enough for anyone. This girl is full of scars from trying to look better, this girl is full of darkness from a childhood that was bitter, this girl is broken and a little unstable, this girl is me and I don't know if I'll ever not be me.

#randomthoughts

0 notes

paoulkaye-blog · 8 years ago

Text

Action vs. Live Action

So… can we talk for a second about all of the live-action ‘remakes’ we’re seeing? I mean, okay, yes, Hollywood has run out of ideas, and Disney struck on a way to make even more money out of its old movies by remaking them shot-by-shot with actual people, but seriously. It even goes beyond that to movie adaptations of books, or comics (thanks, Marvel) or even video games. And why are some of these great and why do some of them suck?

Let me just state up front that I am in no way a qualified film or entertainment media critic. I’m just someone who happens to enjoy a good story and feel confident in my ability to spot why certain elements work in some mediums, but not others.

Personally, I was okay with Beauty and the Beast. I liked the actors, I thought they did a great job with the music, and some of the added scenes actually explained a few things that I was curious about. I was NOT okay, nor do I think anyone was, with M. Night Shamablamadingdong’s The Last Airbender and its monumental waste of such an astoundingly good premise. The Super Mario Brother’s movie makes me cringe, Warcraft was pretty and actually more fun than I expected, Doom was… just… ugh, and the Transformers movies literally turn me into my 13 year old self every time I watch them. These are to say nothing of the other ‘darker and edgier’ reboots of countless older movies or shows that my generation grew up with.

Now, look back on the movies mentioned and notice: The first is a movie-to-movie ‘remake,’ which is pretty straightforward, especially since Disney wisely avoided the ‘darker and edgier’ nonsense. You already have motion-picture length pacing and beats there, so it’s pretty easy to translate. The second was an attempt to shove a 26 episode animated season into a 2-3 hour long movie, and M. Night Sheboygan managed to surgically remove all of the fun and leave behind (and magnify) the Aangst. The video game movies have their own issues which I’ll go into later, and the Transformers have been longstanding victims of the basest of Hollywood whims: Marketing.

So why are some of these good, and why are some of them awful? As I said before, Beauty and the Beast had the advantage of being exactly what it said on the cover: A live-action remake. Not a re-imagining, not something set in the same universe, a literal remake. At this point, Disney’s only real gambles were casting (and you cannot go wrong with Kevin Kline in my book), character design (admittedly not my favorite part) and what, if anything, they decided to add. I love that the Sorceress that curses the prince has an expanded role. I love that there’s an added moment of heartbreak when you discover what happened to Belle’s mom. I like that Gaston in this version isn’t just the town braggart, he was in the military and has a record to back up his attitude. What I got out of the new one was pretty much the same if not a little more than I got out of the animated one, and that’s worth the price of admission for me.

The Last Airbender sacrificed too much of what was great about the original series to focus on the melodrama and high-destiny crap that, while present in the original, was always counterbalanced by the fact that our hero was 10-13 years old. Aang in the cartoon occasionally went off the reservation to have some fun, to sidetrack himself and his friends on this all important journey to save the world to just be kids for a while. Sure, that seems like needless fluff for a movie, but in the long running series, those side stories helped flesh out the world, deepen the connections between all of the characters (both good and bad) and with the exception of the Great Divide, all of them played an important role later in the series when the good guys went to recruit their friends for an attack on the bad guys. And, of course, there was the absolute screw up of the special effects or lack thereof for the various bending arts in the movie. Just… such a waste.

Video Game based movies suffer the inherent problem of presenting the viewer with a world they are familiar with, ideally, and have had agency in through gameplay. Then the movie, by being a movie, removes that agency and tells a static story. Often with the ‘darker and edgier’ thing thrown in. The Super Mario Brothers movie was an early casualty of this, and it’s easy to argue that Doom wasn’t… Doom enough. That it was trying to be ‘Alien’ but with demons. And besides, turning an inherently arcade concept like Doom into a movie is just silly because the story is too flimsy on the face of it, and anything you fabricate to help tell a better story in that same arcade environment is only going to upset someone somewhere by not being ‘true to the original’.

Warcraft got off sort of light here, I feel, since they went back to the beginning of the franchise history to tell an origins story. They were presenting a story that was pretty much always established cannon, with a few minor tweaks, but in a way most players in the Warcraft universe hadn’t been able to see before. All in all, Warcraft was a good video game movie because it did something the developer was not interested in doing with the game itself, and that’s the sort of partnership that cross-media endeavors like this can actually do well. Sure, it had issues with the acting, way too much CGI, and was a bit on the too-serious side when there’s quite of lot of tongue-in-cheek humor to be found in the games, but it told a serviceable story and looked pretty good while it did so.

And then there’s Transformers. God, I love these movies, and I will happily admit that, but they are, objectively, bad. They appeal to the 13 year old in me, and that kid loves these movies, even if the adult I am these days has to cringe and sigh at some of the… I don’t dare call them ‘comedic’ moments. They’re just painful.

Transformers bears multiple scars: It’s ‘darker and edgier’, it’s a marketing juggernaut, and in the vast macrocosm of Transformers, it had to twist and change and modify a lot of the existing cannon in order to be made in movie format. The fights are more violent, with punches and kicks that shear off whole pounds of metal instead of ineffectual laser blasts that fly all over the place. The stakes are higher, with Earth routinely being threaten by whatever the Transformers did there that we could think of this time. The humans are the most unbearable they have ever been, with only a few exceptions, and the story is often a convoluted mess that, when viewed objectively, makes no fucking sense from one half hour to the next.

So why do I love them? Well, mostly it’s Optimus Prime. Dude’s a badass. Like, a badass beyond what you get in movies these days. Peter Cullen’s voice work does a wonderful job in portraying a tired soldier who is simply too fed up with Megatron’s nonsense to let him get away again. The immortal line ‘… Give me your FACE’ was one of the few times I ever stood up and cheered in a movie theater. The one armed beat down of Megatron right after the chillingly awesome delivery of ‘Let’s find out’ is burned into my memory. Seriously, the trailer for the fourth movie showed Optimus Prime riding Grimlock into battle. How do you not immediately go see that movie in theaters? The next one looks tailor made to appeal to my inner child, even just in the subtitle. ‘The Last Knight’? I like Knights. I like Transformers. Sold.

But while I have such a big soft spot in my heart for Transformers, it indulges in the kind of nonsense that I just will not put up with from other movies, the cringe-inducing comedy being chief among them. There are any number of reasons for a remake to be bad, and they’re hard to get right, because you need just enough of the old and enough of the new that it will play on nostalgia and still be accessible and look good and… it’s just too much. Good remakes, especially live action ones, are hard. They are a challenge for any studio or director or crew to put together and have it go well. You either have to cut too much, or add too much, or change just that one thing that made the original work and… why do movie studios do this to themselves? Multi-billion dollar risks on things that have already been done seems like bad business sense.

But for the time being, that’s the direction film entertainment has chosen to go. I’m sure I’ll get back on this subject later with regard to Marvel and DC, and maybe I’ll dig into projects that were announced but never got finished, and why that might have been a good or a bad thing, but that’s for later. Right now, I think I need to go dig up my copy of Revenge of the Fallen again and watch it with my kids. Watch most of it with them, maybe. Some of it. I’ll be skipping around, I think. Thanks for reading.

0 notes