#what if you clawed your way up from hell and i was forcefully cast out of heaven. and we were both boys. or whatever /silly

[unknownarmageddon]

hello kross nation

cross belongs to jael peñaloza killer belongs to rahafwabas

+ individual versions with notes!!!!

[nagipops]

hi!! i think the ask box is open right now but what about a fem! reader that was kinda adopted by all the hashiras when she was small, and on her first mission, she gets turned into a demon? and like they're all conflicted but it's kinda sad how the reader wants to die because she was turned :( if you can't write it it's okay! i love ur works sm <3

SWEET NOTHINGS, BITTER ENDINGS PART I.

SUMMARY: in which your overwhelming tenacity leads you to suffer a demonic fate.

WARNINGS: blood, profanity

A/N: thank you darling! this got a bit long so i’ve split it into two parts— the second part will be posted very shortly! link to part two

“(Y/N)!” Giyuu barked. “Get back!”

You steadily held your nichirin blade in front of you with both hands, staring down the towering demon in front of you. Three veiny arms sprouted out from each side of its body, taunting your group as its flaring yellow eyes locked onto yours.

Clutching the handle of your blade tighter, you panted heavily to control your breathing, clenching your teeth. “I’ve got this!” you hollered back, your knuckles turning white.

You heard a clink of metal and the whirling of a sword as a short purple-haired hashira stepped in front of you. “It’s too dangerous.” Her typical honey-sweet voice was darkened with concern and anger. “Please, (Y/N).”

You were shaking with anger, and... envy? All you wanted was to be strong. To bring home a kill on your first mission. To not be seen as a child anymore by the nine pillars who had taken you under your wing when you were just a baby.

I’m not a kid anymore, you wanted to scream. I want to show you what I can do.

“Go,” Giyuu commanded, casting a glance at Shinobu before briefly locking eyes with you. “We’ll handle this.”

Biting your tongue, you glared at the demon for a moment longer before turning on your heel and retreating to the rest of your squad.

“(Y/N)-chan!” Mitsuri wailed, throwing her arms around you. Over her shoulder, you spotted a fuming Obanai glaring daggers at you; whether he was jealous of the pink-haired girl draped over you or angry at your reckless actions, you couldn’t tell. “We were so worried about you!”

“No, we weren’t,” Obanai hissed. “What you did was idiotic and careless. You were putting everyone in danger.”

“Iguro-kun, always so protective!” Mitsuri giggled, patting you on the head before releasing you from her surprisingly tight hold, her expression growing serious. “Tomioka and Shinobu might need our assistance. (Y/N), go find Sanemi and see if he needs help. Iguro, come with me!” She quickly flounced off with a seething Obanai in tow.

Huffing a sigh, you entered the mass of trees behind you to search for the white-haired hashira.

Lofty, swaying pines loomed over you as the sounds of battle crashed throughout the forest. A flock of crows frantically flapped out from the canopy, shooting into the sky as their noisy caws rang through the air. Frigid winds whipped all around you as you hunted down the wind pillar.

A piercing clink of metal, not unlike the noise of a nichirin blade, sounded from your left. Sanemi? Cautiously drawing your sword from its sheath on your hip, you slowly made your way to the source of the noise.

As you neared a small clearing, the sound grew louder and louder, but you still could not locate any hashira or any demons for that matter. You spotted a thick tree to your right and fled over to hide behind it while you scouted out the area.

The clinking continued, and as you listened more closely, it seemed to be coming from...

Above?

Your heart went cold as you realized you didn’t hear any human voices around you.

At all.

You slowly slid your gaze upwards, not daring to move a single muscle.

And there it was. With a rotting arm clutching a chipped, bloodied blade, carving out the remains of a tattered corpse, three feral red eyes piercing through the dark shade and locking onto yours...

A demon.

Fear pooled instantly in your stomach as you felt bile rise in your throat. The putrid stench of rotten flesh and blood nearly made you hurl on the spot, yet your horror kept your nausea at bay.

Were you going to die here?

You felt your terrified breaths grow shallow as the demon above you licked its lips, tossing the corpse down in front of you with a thud.

“N-nemi?” you whispered in fear, praying, praying to the gods that this wasn’t one of your brothers. You quickly studied the corpse and your surroundings, searching for any sign that this bloodied body wasn’t him. You searched for his sword hilt, his white hair, his signature haori, but the darkness of the deep night made any hint or clue futile.

Glaring at the bloodthirsty demon above you, you were petrified with fear. Your heavy feet were locked into place. Your thumping heart nearly burst out of your chest. But you stared the beast down with all your might, slowly reaching your blade out to the corpse in front of you in attempt to retrieve the scrappy remains of what was left of it.

Inch by inch, your gaze unwavering with the demon’s bloodshot eyes, you dragged the body closer and closer to you until it was just within arm’s reach. Steeling yourself, you swiftly grabbed the body and darted away.

You had no time to check whose body you were holding. All you knew was that you had to—

“Kff!”

All of a sudden, your back hit the ground. Hard. With the wind knocked out of your lungs, all you could see was black. You felt your blade slip out of your grasp as your spine seared with red-hot pain. Once you regained your senses, you opened your eyes...

Oh, shit.

Impossibly sharp fangs loomed over you, dripping with foul saliva that oozed onto your heaving chest. Crazed yellow eyes speckled with pumping red veins latched onto yours, a rotting jade-colored head thrashing back and forth as its piercing claws pinned you to the ground. Its breath was the most vile scent you’ve ever smelled in your entire life, reeking of blood and flesh and who knows what else.

And it was just mere inches away from your face.

Stifling a wave of nausea, you swiftly pulled your knees up to your chest and pushed, kicking the demon backwards by its torso as hard as your body would let you.

Darting over to your blade which had fallen to the ground just a few feet away from you, you picked it up and pointed it at the snarling demon who was picking its burly body off of the forest floor.

“You!” you shouted, wiping your slimy face on the sleeve of your uniform. “I’m not scared of you!”

The demon responded with a warbling noise, something that sounded like... laughing?

Your nerves set on fire. Oh, that’s it. You would end this vile monster right here, right now.

“Leaf Breathing, Second Form: Whirlwind of Fronds!” Exhaling sharply through clenched teeth, you felt cool winds start to whip around you, picking up speed as leaves and needles rapidly gravitated towards you as though you were a magnet.

Now!

Growling with fury, you charged at the gremlin with all your might, the swirling flurry of foliage honing in on the center of its chest. Each leaf transformed into sharp, miniature daggers, piercing through the demon’s grayish skin and buying you just enough time to move in close. Wielding your blade with both hands, you raised it above your head before forcefully slicing downwards with a roar, aiming for the neck.

But your opponent was nimble, and it barely dodged its head out of the way, landing you a clean shot down its shoulder to its flank. Shit, the arm can just regenerate itself, you cursed, quickly angling your sword laterally for a slice through the neck as the demon howled in pain.

You slashed your sword as hard as you could, but instead of cutting through soft flesh, you were met with thick, gnarly bone. The demon had raised its other arm in defense, keeping your lethal blade at bay. Struggling to push back against the sturdy bone, you gritted your teeth as you attempted to release your sword from its muscle.

But the demon had already beaten you to it and whipped its hefty arm outwards to shake you off, hurling you across the clearing.

“Hkk!” You landed straight on your back once again with a heavy thud, but you noticed that your blade was still lodged into the creature’s arm. Perfect. Even though single nerve in your body was screaming in pain, even as your limbs trembled as you shakily picked yourself up off the ground, you would never back down from a fight. “Hey, ugly! Let’s finish this!”

The demon howled furiously, clamoring to rip your blade out of its arm.

“Third Form: Drill of Needles!”

Hundreds of thousands of pine needles descended from the midnight sky at your command, whirling into a tight cone while speeding towards the neck of the monster. You heard the earsplitting drilling of flesh and wood followed by a deafening groan and huffed in triumph as the pent-up exhaustion began to release throughout your body.

You nearly hit the ground for the third time when you caught some movement out of the corner of your eye.

Oh, hell no.

There was the same demon, its bright yellow eyes even more furious now, perched high up in a tree.

“B-but...” your mind and vision grew hazy as you noticed the gaping hole in the demon’s chest, with its neck still intact. I missed? You cursed sharply at the sight of your chipped blade thrown carelessly on the ground a great distance away from you.

What do I do? Giyuu, Shinobu, what do I do? Mitsuri? Obanai? Is anyone there?

Your felt your body begin to admit defeat, your legs shaking as they threatened to give out from underneath you, your heaving lungs burning and aching for rest.

The corpse.

Where was the corpse? The same one that got you into this mess?

Sanemi?

You struggled to keep your vision trained on the demon high above as your body started to wobble in exhaustion. “Hey,” you slurred. “Come out here! We’re not— kff! We’re not done yet!”

A snarl sounded from over your shoulder as the familiar stench of rotting flesh flooded your nose once again.

This time, you plummeted to the ground face-first, hearing your nose crack in the process. But your body was too drained for you to properly register the pain.

You were so numb.

Groaning, you slowly rolled onto your back and gazed into the eyes of the demon hovering above you hungrily. Its arm that you had sliced off had already fully recovered, while the other arm choked your neck with an iron grip.

Your vision was nearly white now, your oxygen supply running low as blood trickled out of your neck where the demon’s claw had pierced the skin.

Die. Die. You were going to die. On your first mission. Without a single kill under your belt.

Forcing a smirk onto your face, you squeezed your eyes shut as you endured the pain as best you could. “Hey, now— hck... If there’s anything that Sanemi taught me... it’s that humans... always get the last laugh...” You cracked open one eye, staring straight into the demon’s yellow orbs.

“Noxious... nectar...” you gasped out one last command, watching the bloody pinpricks dotted all around the demon’s greying skin transform into purple specks of poison. The monster thrashed around, violently clutching its head at the pain seeping through its entire body. You watched as your first and last kill take place right in front of you as your vision began to fade.

But not before the demon’s deadly blood dripped into your open wounds.

link to part two.

if you enjoyed this post, likes and reblogs are much appreciated :) feel free to request here, and make sure to read the rules first! have a lovely day everyone <3

[petri808]

We’ll Take Back Heaven a Nalu Yakuza Au

1 | 2 | 3 | 4

“Ms. Heartfilia,” the man nodded at the blonde.

“Mr. Katsunuma.” Lucy bowed in response. “Thank you for inviting me.”

“Of course,” the older male smiled. “Your assistance has led to this celebration after all.”

It was an extravagant party being held in a large room of Katsunuma Industries corporate headquarters. The tech giant was celebrating the acquisition of their rival in the industry… thanks in part to Lucy’s untraceable services. A few bits of intelligence on the rival company coupled by the money laundering Lucy provided allowed Katsunuma to fuel the merger and overtake them. The rival had no choice but to sign the contract because if they didn’t, they would have been put out of business. Part of the deal insured the employees would be kept which had been the rivals concern, but those employees are in large part Katsunuma’s desire to take the business. Their current patents and information aside, those employees were the heart of creating more. It was a genius move.

“Mmm, I do what I can,” Lucy smiled sweetly and held up her glass. “A toast to a successful relationship.”

The man clinked his glass against hers. “For many more years to come. Enjoy the party, Ms. Heartfilia.”

“I will,” Lucy responded with another smile.

As she made her way back towards the temporary bar set up, Lucy chatted with people along the way. Some she knew, others she didn’t, but her stunning looks always turned heads everywhere she went. She wasn’t the typical Asian beauty found around those parts. Her mother was a Caucasian American and her father a Japanese businessman, so the hapa mix created a buxom blonde with almond eyes and legs for days, fluent in both English and Japanese as well as Korean. Gorgeous and intelligent. Men desired her, and women either hated her or wanted to be her. Luckily for the other women, Lucy had no interest in these stuffy, boring business types, except in taking their money because she knew all they wanted were docile arm candies and that wasn’t for her at all.

The only reason she attended these events were to show her loyalties and drum up new business considering she operated at word of mouth. But anyone too eager to do business with her immediately sent up a cautionary flag. No one survives in the dark world by being naive, the biggest lesson her cut-throat businessman of a father ever taught her. Lucy had to get to know the person, feel them out, and background check them inside and out, and even after all that she wouldn’t immediately jump into an arrangement. She made sure that any business wanting to employ her laundering services would lose big time if they ever considered turning on her. ‘Stupid men,’ she mused to herself. Greed was the easiest way to keep them in line, because the green-eyed monster was just too enticing. Another lesson her father taught her the hard way when bankrupted his company on a bad venture.

Lucy placed her empty glass onto the bar top and rested an arm on it. She smiled at the orange-haired bartender. Handsome in a playboy kind of way, even the glasses added to the charm. “A Cosmopolitan, please.”

“Coming right up cutie,” the man winked at her.

She wanted to roll her eyes but played it cool. “Loke, is it,” Lucy read off the name tag on his vest. “Unusual name. Bet you flirt with all the girls, huh?”

“Only the pretty ones,” he grinned back. “And you are the finest example here tonight.”

“Aww, how sweet,” Lucy clicked her tongue with a shrug. “Too bad lines don’t work on me.”

“Doesn’t surprise me,” Loke smiled back undeterred. “You’re definitely a higher caliber than the rest.”

‘Oh, Kami,’ Lucy droned internally. This guy probably had a ton of cheeky comebacks in his repertoire. Was he fuckable in her view? Toned body but not too muscular, nimble fingers… maybe fit for a one-night affair. It has been awhile since she’d had some action, so maybe he could be fun to end this celebration with. She leaned in closer letting her breasts press up against the counter. “You know this might—”

“Careful dude, this ones got claws you don’t wanna mess with.”

Lucy’s body stiffened in annoyance at the new voice so close to her ear. “Ugh, Natsu.” Not the intrusion she wanted right now!

“My apologies,” Loke immediately put her finished drink down, then his hands up as he took a step back. “You have a good evening ma’am.”

But the bartender’s body language spoke volumes as well. Loke wasn’t reacting solely to the comment, because he was staring straight at Natsu as he spoke. She could imagine that while Natsu’s tone was light, he was probably giving the bartender a menacing glare. Ugh!

Annoyed at Natsu’s interjection, Lucy grabbed her drink in a huff and started to walk away without looking behind her. “I don’t need a knight,” she huffed. But undeterred, Natsu immediately stepped in and tried to weave an arm around her waist. “Don’t get familiar,” she seethed in a hushed tone as she stepped out of his embrace. She didn’t want to cause a scene either, so she pulled him away from the crowd near the bar area to a quieter section. “What do you want Dragneel?”

“It’s improper for a woman like you to be without an escort at these events.”

Lucy placed a hand on her cocked hip in irritation. So, what if that were true, those traditions made her skin crawl. She normally would have brought one, but her go-to guy wasn’t available and since most of the guests knew who she was, Lucy figured they wouldn’t care. Why would a bunch of old guys not want a gorgeous blonde to look at? “I’m perfectly fine by myself considering I’m an invited guest. What are you doing here, this isn’t your playground.” She knew the world of corporate Tokyo and business stiffs were not the type he’d associate with. Though she had to unconsciously admit Natsu looked good in a three-piece suit.

“Be nice kitten, I was invited too.”

“Oh yeah, by who? I know Katsunuma’s not involved with the Yakuza.”

“Not senior, the son. Boy’s got a bit of a habit along with his friends.”

“Ah, let me guess, you’re the supplier.”

“You guessed right, kitten.”

“Stop calling me kitten!”

The irritation in her voice only succeeded in pulling a smirk from Natsu. He was obviously enjoying this dance, which fueled Lucy’s determination to not be swayed by it. She took a sip of her drink in annoyance. “Shouldn’t you check on your client then?”

“What for? Those rich brats partying on daddy’s dime make for disinteresting conversation. I’d much rather talk to you.”

“Lucky me,” Lucy rolled her eyes. “Well, I’d rather schmooze with my clientele. They serve a purpose, you do not.”

Natsu reached out and ran a finger along Lucy’s arm. “So harsh, kitten. We both know you’re enjoying this too.”

The ripple he triggered along her skin and increase in temperature had Lucy internally reeling, though the dead stare she wore on her face showed the opposite reaction. She wasn’t about to admit to a damn thing! “Uh-huh, keep telling yourself that Dragneel. Perhaps one day your dreams will come true.”

“I’m counting on it.”

“Ugh!” Lucy pushed him away in annoyance. “You’re too much! I’m leaving.” She turned her back.

“Oi,” Natsu grabbed her arm forcefully and spun her back around. “I mean it!” he growled in a lowered voice. “You may be damn good at what you do, but you still got a thing or two to learn about a man’s world.”

“What the fuck are you talking about,” Lucy spat back in a hushed tone. “These guys don’t care!”

“You think they’d say it to your face, kitten? I’d overheard more than one of your so-called prospects here gossiping about your shameful behavior and you’ve only been here fifteen minutes.”

“You’re lying.”

His eyes narrowed and brows furrowed. “I’m a lot of things, but you know I wouldn’t lie to you.”

Okay, so that was true. Lucy’s known Natsu long enough to know when and if he’d ever lie to her. Still, “fine!” She seethed. “I won’t plan on staying much longer if I’m stuck with you.”

“Aww,” he defiantly tipped her chin up. “But I’ll take such good care of you.”

“Pfft,” she glared back with a twisted smile and voice dripping with sarcastic disdain. “As if. You couldn’t satisfy me then, so… what makes you think you could now?”

“Wow…” Natsu placed a hand over his heart feigning pains and groaning for effect. “Hitting me where it hurts, Luce.” He then grinned and suddenly pulled her flush against his solid body, arm wrapped around her waist, while the other gripped tightly to her hip so she couldn’t move. He leaned in, his face lowered and hovering over her ear. “If only it were true. All those nights… I lost track of how many times you called my name to the heavens.”

Between the sensually deep tone of Natsu’s voice and warm breath fanning over her skin, Lucy couldn’t hide her physiological reactions if she’d tried. Her body stiffened up, fighting a hormonal urge to give in with a sheer determination not to play his game. There was a damn good reason they’d broken up, and until he admitted to what went wrong, there was no way in hell Lucy would go back to him.

“It’s not just about sex,” she gritted out.

“I know…” Natsu let his lips brush against her ear, pulling a shiver from her body. He smirked. “It’s about love.”

Love?! How dare he! Whatever spell he was close to casting instantly dissolved on Lucy and her anger boiled to the surface. She pushed with all of her might, forcing them apart. Oh, she was furious! “And that’s something you know nothing about!” Lucy’s hand flew up faster than even she knew it was happening, landing a loud slap across Natsu’s face. “You made your choice long ago, and love never factored in,” she seethed then stomped away leaving the man alone and speechless amongst whispering bystanders.

So much for celebrating, not after Natsu’s intrusion into the affair. Lucy thanked Katsunuma again for inviting her and left the party. She couldn’t be around Natsu for another second or she just might hit him again. Ugh! He made her so angry! Love… seriously?! He had no right to pull that on her, not when it was his decision that lead to their split. In a way she should thank him for opening her eyes, because that’s what lead to creating her own organization. Lucy wanted to show that women could do just fine in the underworld with the right people and the right plans in place. And she hadn’t been the only one to feel that way. This was the modern era and all the bullshit, patriarchy rules that held them back needed to die with the twentieth century. The saddest part… Lucy didn’t even know if Natsu realized how much he’d hurt her all those years ago.

“Ma’am,” the valet snapped Lucy out of her thoughts. “Your car has arrived.”

“Thank you.” Lucy stepped closer to the curb as the vehicle pulled up alongside her. The valet opened the door for her, but just as she was about to step in, she heard her name called from behind her.

“Natsu, can’t you take a hint!” She turned and snapped while still keeping a hand on the vehicle.

“Luce, I was just playing with you upstairs. I didn’t mean to make you so angry.”

“Well, you did.”

“I don’t understand why!”

“And that’s your problem.”

“But I don’t want you to hate me, and you seem to hate me.”

Lucy sighed from the sheer emotional exhaustion. “I don’t hate you, Natsu. But until you can figure out why I left you, we don’t have anything more to talk about. Now. Good night.” She got into the vehicle, and they drove away.

Once they were out of sight, Lucy slumped down into the seat holding back the cloud of tears building in her eyes. She’d meant what she said, all of it including not hating him. Frankly, she didn’t know if she could. Anger, yes, but hatred no. They’d been young but even she recognized the connection she had to Natsu wasn’t something she could easily walk away from, and she also knew he wasn’t lying when he’d brought up love. The man’s reaction to seeing her flirt with the bartender was a reminder of his feelings for her. But it wasn’t enough. Lucy didn’t want to feel like an unequal partner in the relationship and that’s exactly what the Yakuza world Natsu chose expected.

“Home, miss?”

“Yes, please take me home.”

[hiraemy]

Lumine and the Goblet of Fire [part 3]

[Part One] [Part Two]

Word count: 2k

Notes: I’m sorry for the delay! I actually planned to have this part posted last week, but there were a few things that got me troubled so I had to postpone it a bit. This part is almost 100% action, and I’m not sure myself if I could write it in a way that’s interesting and easy to imagine, so... Yeah. I would spent more time trying to make it work, but I thought I had already delayed it enough. Anyways, thank you for the support and enjoy your reading!

Act three: Lumine and the stupid First Trial

To everyone who had the rare luxury of getting closer to the twins, there were a few obvious things that came to light, like how Aether and Lumine were complete polar opposites but still managed to understand each other with a simple glance.

Lumine was the most guarded of the two— almost bordering on paranoia, but we don't talk about that—, probably a result of her constant worrying. She wasn't one to openly talk about her feelings, even to Aether, and it took a lot of insistence from Paimon to even befriend her. 

Aether was too aware of this. He knew Lumine had a lot on her mind, and he also knew not to push some things because it was both painful and cruel to do it to her. Still, when he heard about the Triwizard Tournament, he felt like it was a once in a lifetime opportunity that they couldn't miss. 

It was good for her to be pushed out of her shell once in a while. Aether felt like one day or another Lumine had to learn to not let her fears keep her from doing risky things. Better sooner than later, right?

That being said, it wasn't like he was a heartless monster. Watching Lumine's eyes glistening with anxiety from the screen— even if no one else could spot it in her stoic expression— made his heart clench, a grimace forming on his lips. 

He had full faith in his twin. But that didn't stop him from worrying.

Lumine learned too late that watching someone almost being crushed by a legendary beast and actually being the person almost crushed by a legendary beast were two entirely different experiences. 

While she felt her breath caught in her throat too many times watching Childe and Albedo defeat their opponents earlier, she felt like if she didn't breathe enough in her own trial she would be toast in no time at all.

Dvalin lunged, his entire body crashing in the stone and leaving behind a trail of destruction, eyes narrowed on her figure. Lumine ran until the end of the platform, gulping when she saw the dead end. Fuck. There was another rock pillar, but it was too far. The dragon was closing on her and she had to think fast. She had three options here: learn how to fly out of nowhere, fall to her death or to try to outsmart the Great Dragon Dvalin. 

Yeah, no fucking way.

So, flying it is.

Broomsticks were out. First of all, she didn’t even bring her broom from Beauxbatons, because she didn’t think she would need it in the first place. Besides, this was a pocket dimension, so, unless she knew how to teleport things from outside, that was also out of the question. Right. In the end, it was do or die. Great.

Lumine was going to kill Aether. Was it bad that she could only think of how she could be the most petty and annoying to her brother after this? Oh, if she survived, of course. Not to jinx or anything.

She gathered all the courage of a lifetime in her chest and took a deep breath. She didn’t dare to look behind her or even below and jumped off the still, safe ground. Her hair whipped in all directions and invaded her mouth and she almost let her grip on her wand slide. Lumine was sure both Paimon and Aether would kill her later for being so reckless, but she convinced herself that they couldn't kill her if she was already dead in the first place.

Free falling was extremely unsettling, with no other words being enough to describe the feeling. Her stomach was spinning and all her senses were screaming for her to do something, but her logical mind overruled everything, making sure she got the timing right. When she felt the tickly sensation of passing by the clouds, she finally let out the breath she was holding.

“Arresto momentum!” She stopped falling. Literally. Ignoring the chills in her spine when she noticed that she couldn’t see the ground when she fell at least a hundred meters from the platform, she stabilized herself in a good position mid-air before casting the next spell “Ascendio!”

Lumine was shot up upwards, but this time, she had full control of her movements in plain air. It was almost as if she had a pair of wings on her back, allowing her to have a fair combat in the skies with Stormterror. The rational part of her mind asked herself how the fuck was she supposed to do attack and defend when she was already distracted with maintaining the Ascendio charm. She didn’t even know before jumping if her trick was going to work, so everything she could accomplish after was already great.

Dvalin roared again, his entire body convulsing, almost as if he was in pain. Lumine narrowed her eyes at the strange behavior, but decided to take the advantage of not being noticed by the beast yet. 

“Confringo!” She yelled, aiming directly for his head. Dvalin took the direct hit and roared again, his scales scorched, but mostly unaffected despite the lethal force used behind the curse. “Expulso!” Lumine tried again, merely blasting the dragon a few inches off course in air. The beast seemed more annoyed than damaged by her attacks, blindly clawing as someone who tried to shoo bugs away. The witch had a hard time avoiding his attacks, almost being hit once or twice. 

However, in these attempts, she noticed something. No matter what spells she threw at Dvalin, the dragon wouldn’t attack her with the intent to kill. He had a few too close tries, but he never aimed directly to take her down. It was almost as if he was distracted with another thing— Or he simply didn’t want to attack her. It roared a lot, each time sounding more painful than the last. Was he cursed, or something…? 

Not a single spell she casted had a great effect on his defenses, no matter how strong her firepower was. She didn’t doubt her combat abilities, having full confidence in her DADA and Charms scores from Beauxbatons, but it was painfully clear she wasn’t going anywhere with this full offensive plan. Before, Tartaglia managed to beat the Oceanid sorely in combat, but Albedo took a rather different strategy to encase Andrius in wines and stop it from moving. What the hell would she do with an opponent who was tankier than both of the other beasts, and at the same time, could kill her with a single swipe?

As if a light was shoved into her brain, she noticed a purple crystal hanging from Dvalin’s neck. It was almost as if it was forcefully implanted into his skin, corruption growing between his scales and rooting the gem in its place. Not a single book that covered the biology of the world’s magical beasts mentioned a purple gem on the dragon, so maybe… Was it safe to guess that it didn’t belong there originally?

Another attack brought Lumine from her thoughts, her left arm suffering a deep gash from the shoulder to her elbows for lack of attention. It stung like a bitch and she bit her lips harshly to stop the pitiful scream from escaping. If she wanted to take a closer look to that crystal, she had to be better than this. 

“Diminuendo,” She cast the spell on herself, feeling her figure shrink until she was twenty centimeters tall. In this state, Dvalin’s crazed eyes were unable to track her, so she had an easier time flying until she was at the dragon’s neck. She casted the countercharm to grow back into her full height and used Relashio, removing the crystal’s roots from his neck. The crystal let a purple smoke that Lumine didn't inhale by instinct and clattered to the ground. The blonde quickly blew the gem to dust, watching as it released a lot of elemental energy into the air.

The dragon seized as if it had suffered a great shock, his uncontrollable spasms sending her flying towards the stone platform like a pathetic bug, the ground around her gaining a huge crash landsite from the pure strength of the throw. Her back gave a pitiful noise— it wasn't broken… hopefully— and the air was expelled from her lungs, leaving her gasping for air.

She didn’t even have the time to properly feel the pain, because in a blink of an eye, Dvalin was also falling— Right on her. Lumine propelled herself by the elbows, tripping on her feet one or two times before being able to drag herself away from the gigantic dragon, and escaping by a hair thread. Her adrenaline rush lasted a few seconds before she collapsed on her feet, right arm(the good one) crutching her ribs rather tight. 

“Is it over…?” Lumine muttered, tired and feeling like she could sleep for months. As if she had jinxed it, Dvalin groaned again, but the only body part he could move was his head. His mouth was half-open, showing the sharp fangs and the strange coloration on his tongue— It had a nasty stain, looking like rotten flesh. But the thing that caught her attention were his eyes. The pupils were grey, hazed and unfocused, even if the irised sustained an angry looking red with a tiny purple circle spinning around the pupil as if it was actively sustaining a curse. 

Lumine still had to take that Plume. However, there was something off about his whole demeanor that made her extremely unsettled. 

With tiny, careful steps, she dared to get closer to him. The dragon hissed, growling in a threatening tone that screamed ‘Get Away!’, but she ignored it for the sake of her instincts. Suddenly, his head dragged on the floor, aiming to bite her.

Her hand shot up automatically, wand long forgotten meters away, on the ground where she fell before. She didn’t know how— or why— she did that, but rather than questioning her own sanity, she felt the energy channeling on her veins into a not-exactly-shield made of pure magic. And instead of crashing directly on it, Dvalin simply stopped mid-track, eyes changing coloration and suddenly clearer. His pupils slowly regained focus, clear and a dark black coloration again, the circle around it long gone. 

Dvalin shook his head slowly, regaining his senses. 

It stood up on full fours, wings opening in a magnificent beast deserving of the title King of the Skies. It gave another roar that sounded even… happy? At least, as far as happy roars could go, she guessed. Anyway, it didn’t want to claw her eyes out, so she was taking it as a win.

Ah. Right, the plume—!

“Mr. Dvalin!” She screamed when the winds began to pick up again, signaling that the dragon was almost leaving the platform for good. She ignored the dumb feeling of calling Stormterror by ‘Mister’ and cupped her hands around her mouth. “Please, could you give me a plume? It's really important…!”

It sailed off. Lumine tried to not let her disappointment show on her face— God, who the fuck was dumb enough to try to chat with a dragon—?!

Wait. 

On the stone platform, hidden by the cracks. Lying there was a single dark blue plume. 

The cheers were loud. So loud that Lumine first thought she was going to be deaf. Still, with Dvalin's plume on her raised fist, she didn't have in her to let the screams affect the adrenaline of beating the goddamn trial with flying scores. Literally. 

She quickly scanned the crowd for her brother and Paimon, searching for approval in her most

 precious people in the world, just to see Paimon almost flying off the benches. As for Aether… well.

Seeing the grin on his sister's face caused a wave of pride to take over his system in a heartbeat. All the tension accumulated on his muscles left him all of sudden, making him flop tiredly into the chair(when did he stand up anyway?).

A part of Aether's worries were soothed. Lumine was strong. Even if she didn't notice, she was letting herself grow into a beautiful flower despite all the harsh currents that tried to take her down.

"...you're crying"

"...n-no, I'm not… Stop laughing, Paimon!"

[fckinsupreme]

Saved - Xavier Plympton x Fem!Reader

Description: An AU in which you save Xavier from being killed by Margaret and kick her ass in the process. 

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: AU, violence, stabbing, blood, gore, ass kicking. No smut this time, sorry y’all. 

A/N: @nickisgirl requested -  ooo dude can you do a fun one where the female reader goes and saves Xavier from Margaret and kicks her butt? :) For Bertie. :) 

Sorry if this has been done before! This turned out a little longer than I planned and I’m not wholly satisfied, but I hope y’all like it!

 No copyright infringement intended! Any rights belong to proper shareholders and they deserve the ultimate credit. ___________________________

Your heart is pounding in your ears, the smell of blood and the feeling of death hanging heavy in the air. Earlier in the night, you had witnessed people dying all around you, their fates dealt by the cruel hand of Mr. Jingles. It hadn’t helped that Xavier, your boyfriend, had taken off after Rita in a fit of rage (or whatever her name was, since she was actually an imposter) and had ended up God knows where. He was being incredibly foolish, impulsive even, but at the same time, you knew that it was warranted. If you’d been in his shoes, you would have likely done the exact same. Being thrown into an oven to die, surviving but bearing physical & psychological scars, was enough to break anyone.

You were worried, to say the least.

You left Montana and Brooke to go searching for him, a complete ball of nerves and on full alert as you made your way through the woods. You were scared of the type of scene that you may stumble across; would he be dead? Wounded? Safe, but in potential danger? And where in the hell were Chet and Margaret? Surely help should have arrived already and one or both of them should have returned. Yet, there was no sign of them or anyone else as you stumbled along the path. However, it didn’t take much walking until you hear the sound of a familiar voice.

Xavier.

You begin to run, following the sound of his voice to the archery area. You see him, his back to you, one of his burnt hands on a bow as he shoots arrows into Mr. Jingles. You can’t move, frozen in place as you observe the scene with wide eyes. You want nothing more than to make your presence known, but you’re also aware of how fatal that could be. Jingles doesn’t seem to stay down after another shot, so what would he do to Xavier if the blond was caught off guard? You didn’t want to entertain the thought, or bring it to fruition, so you stay put. 

You also notice that Margaret is on the ground, apparently unconscious. So, she was back, and her unresponsive state was likely somehow caused by Jingles; but where was Chet? You knew him well enough to know that he would come and find you or Xavier to inform you of what had happened. Did he succumb to his shoulder injury? Did he stay on the opposite shore to find help or wait for it to arrive? You had a bad feeling in the pit of your stomach, and the sight of Margaret’s motionless body did nothing to calm your nerves. What in the hell happened here? 

Your eyes flicker toward Jingles again, who was finally down on the ground. Relief swims in your veins, and you compose yourself after a brief moment before stepping out from behind the tree. Xavier is doing a victory dance when you approach him, and he grins widely once he sees you. He pulls you into his chest, and his scent of burnt clothing and damaged flesh is actually more of a comfort now, rather than the sadness and anxiety it originally procured in you. He’s here, he’s safe, and he had just saved the other survivors’ lives. You give him a soft kiss before the two of you make your way to Margaret, feeling a bit uneasy. She’s still out cold, with Xavier on his knees to try rousing her. You remain standing, noticing a knife directly beside of your foot within Margaret’s reach. Before you can pick it up, you hear her eerily calm voice answering Xavier.

“Never better, actually.”

Margaret reaches for the knife, but by some miracle, you’re much faster. You bring your foot down onto her hand, stomping it hard with a loud cry. Margaret screams, both in surprise and in anguish, and you kick the knife far out of her grasp. You bend down to shove Xavier off of her, not knowing what her next move could be. He’s stunned as he hits the ground, gaping at both of you as he tries processing what’s happening. You’re not sure that you understand, either, but it was slowly falling into place within your frazzled mind. She grabs you, throwing you aside as you hit the ground with an audible groan. 

Before you can tell Xavier to run and hide or get help somehow, Margaret is upon him again. The knife is in your sight, but she apparently has no time to look or has forgotten about it in her haste, so she opts for a rock instead. You quickly step toward the knife, tucking it into the waistband of your shorts when you realize that trying to charge her with it now would be useless. You watch in helpless horror, a soundless scream leaving your lips as she brings the rock down on Xavier’s head. You feel pure rage bubbling within as he crumples to the ground, not knowing what else to do in your fury besides pushing her down roughly with a disgruntled cry.

“You think something that childish is going to stop me?” she questions, her tone dripping with faux-sweetness as she bats her lashes. “You naive little harlot.”

“Fuck you,” you growl. “What the fuck did you do to Chet? Where is he?”

“I killed him, of course,” she says, holding up the same rock that she’d just used on Xavier. “Just like I killed your boyfriend and how I’m going to kill you, too.”

That was enough for you. Something about the way she spoke to you, her demeanor, how she’d hurt Xavier and God knows who else, just made something snap inside of you. It all sent you flying completely off the handle, and you couldn’t contain yourself anymore. You had a bad feeling about her from the moment you met, and now you knew why. It was her; she was doing this, or at least some of it. You couldn’t piece together her motive, but in this very moment, you didn’t much care. Right now, your only concern was stopping her reign of terror before she hurt anyone else. This notion causes you to charge at her, knocking her to the ground. She’s winded, and you deliver a hard punch to her nose before forcefully grabbing the front of her shirt to pull her up.

“You bitch,” you spit, delighting in the sight of blood gushing from her nostrils. “What did you fucking do?”

“God’s work,” she replies, bringing the rock to the side of your face.

A burst of pain overtakes your right cheekbone, momentarily blurring your vision. You barely register her lifting it again as she throws you down, but you’re still much faster than she is. You kick both feet into her stomach with bruising force, and she falls again with a loud thud and series of wet coughs. She attempts to get up, but you elbow her in the face to keep her down. More blood flies from her nose, squirting onto your clothes, but you pay no mind. She delivers another blow which you rebound from, getting the upper hand yet again.

“Where is Chet?” you cry as you slam her head against the ground, holding her by the throat. “Where did you put him?”

“Lake,” she manages to choke out. “I tied weights to him and I threw him in.  No one will ever find him; it’s bottomless, remember?”

The revelation makes you absolutely sick to your stomach. How could anyone be so cruel? So cold and calculating to murder someone so horrifically? Chet was a good man, he was the last person to deserve such a terrifying, painful fate. And what about Trevor and possibly even Xavier? The thought that Xavier could be dead right now, by her hand no less, only fuels your rage. You squeeze as hard as you can on her throat, your body quaking with both anger and adrenaline.

“I’m going to kill you,” you hiss. “Let you see exactly how it feels, you heartless fucking cunt.”

She sputters around your grip, clawing at you and trying to raise the rock again. You press harder, trying with all of your might to make her lose consciousness once more, but it’s in vain. She once again gains her footing, the rock colliding with the same cheek as earlier. More searing, throbbing pain cascades the entire right side of your face, and you feel a bit of blood dripping from around your temple. You hear her coughing and gulping air into her lungs, and you’re so shocked by her latest blow that you temporarily lose traction. A shattering punch is brought to your nose, momentarily paralyzing you as she stands above you once you hit the earth. The bitter, coppery taste of blood fills your mouth, dripping from your nose. You look up at her, ignoring the tremendous amount of pain that you’re in, now faced with what could possibly be your death sentence.

“Poor little Y/N,” Margaret says calmly. “Any last words?”

Tears fall down your bloodied, bruised cheeks, and you turn your head to look at Xavier. He’s still knocked out, perhaps even deceased, and you know that you’re likely going to meet one of those same fates. If he was dead, then what else did you have to live for, anyway? All of your plans with him, the life you wanted to build together, all of it fucking gone because of her. You cast your glance back to Margaret, who was watching you with folded arms. You swallow around the lump in your throat, blinking back a fresh wave of tears as you reach toward your boyfriend. Margaret, surprisingly, doesn’t stop you. She remains planted in the same position, a callous grin painting her red lips.

“I love you,” you whisper in the direction of Xavier’s body. “I’m sorry. I love you so fucking much.”

Margaret tsks, her face displaying false sympathy as she continues looming over you. Her legs are positioned at either side of your torso, bracing herself. You shift slightly, and that’s when you remember that you had the knife. You could feel the blade against your hip, warmed from your body heat yet still somewhat cool. You kept a poker face, not wanting to tip her off that it was in your possession. You wait, biding your time as she straddles your waist. You have to be swift, knowing one slip up or false move could literally cost your life. 

You close your eyes, reaching under your shirt to grasp the knife’s handle. When you open your eyes to gaze at her, you can tell she isn’t noticing your actions. She’s too occupied with looking toward the heavens, perhaps silently praying to God for forgiveness or some other reason that makes sense only to her. You keep the knife concealed next to your hip, awaiting her strike. Residuals tears fall from your eyes, trailing down your temples and into your hair, and then the moment finally comes. Margaret bears down onto you, rock in her hands. You bring the knife up, holding the blade toward her, ignoring the sickening squelch! it makes when it penetrates her lower abdomen. It enters on her right side, and you push it in deeper with a triumphant grin. She attempts to grab hold of it, but you withdraw the blade before she gets a chance. Hot blood pours from the gaping wound, and she swings from side to side above you.

You shove Margaret off before she can topple onto you, watching her cover the stab wound with one trembling hand. You debate slicing her throat to finish the job, but you refrain from doing so. This injury was self-defense; anything else would be murder, and you knew that even the best lawyer in the world wouldn’t be able to get you out of that bind. It was best to just leave it alone as it was, let nature take its course if it must. At least now she was subdued and you’d stopped her in her tracks; that was all that mattered now. You take in her struggle to stay awake, before she loses the battle. You don’t even think through your next move, rushing to Xavier and kneeling next to him. You shake him quickly, attempting to bring him back to you. You feel for a pulse, are relieved to see he still has one, and begin rousing him a bit harder.

“Xav,” you plead. “Wake up. Please.”

But if he didn’t wake? What if this was it and he was gone forever? It was all your fault. If you’d been fast enough, if you would have been here before Margaret, none of this would have happened. Even his burns could have been avoided if you’d gone with him to rescue Bertie. Perhaps Bertie would still be alive as well. Perhaps--

You’re brought out of your thoughts by the sound of Xavier groaning softly on the ground. You hold onto his shoulders, a tear of relief falling from your nose and onto his charred tanktop. He blinks up at you in confusion, and you want nothing more than to kiss both of his cheeks. You don’t, though, not wanting to cause him any more pain than necessary. He sits up, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tries to stave off a wave of dizziness. His concerned eyes meet yours, and you grip his arm as he stands. 

“What happened?” he asks, his voice croaky from exhaustion and newfound consciousness. He takes in your appearance, the blood and injuries visible in the moonlight. “Are you okay? Where’s--”

He answers his own question when he turns around, seeing Margaret’s body. He gapes at you, rubbing his temples and the back of his neck as you try to keep him steady. “She killed Chet. She also killed Trevor. She no doubt fucking killed those counselors in 1970. I really think she did most of this, both past and fucking present.”

“Jesus,” Xavier breathes, swaying. “I--”

“Sit,” you instruct. “I’ll go get someone. I don’t know who, but--”

“No,” he says. “I don’t want to be alone. I’ll be fine. Is she--”

“I don’t know,” you interject. “I don’t much care. Either way, she’s going to fucking pay for her crimes. Whether it be here or in Hell where she belongs. I’ll try to explain things better later; let’s just get the fuck out of here. We need to get help and I’m pretty sure that you’ve got a concussion, so let’s just focus on that for now, okay?”

He nods, still pretty rough on his feet. You take his arm again, leading him from the archery site and back into the forest. You had no idea what other horrors awaited you, if Brooke and Montana or anyone else were safe, but you knew one thing: The worst seemed to have passed for now, and you could focus on leaving this place as a survivor. Xavier had a long road ahead with his recovery, but you were more than determined to stick it out with him. 

Margaret be damned. She had failed to take the most important thing from you, and for that, you were already better off. You, unlike her, had something special, something worth fighting for. It felt like the most surreal dream, an eternal nightmare, but as always, Xavier was going to be here with you. You were going to get out and get through this--together. 

___

Taglist!

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[niqhtlord01]

Humans are Weird: Human Augmentation: A Mara and Elizabeth Story

(For the first part of this series please view this story for context: https://niqhtlord01.tumblr.com/post/186292345701/humans-are-weird-absorbing-culture )  The human city towered over the surrounding area and cast a shadow so large some of the smaller neighboring cities used it to tell time depending on how much of their small city fell within the dark canvas.  From a distance one could be forgiven that the massive city was as calm and peaceful as a natural mountain scraping the sky. That illusion began to fade away the closer one got however as the viewer began to distinguish several hundred moving dots that spun and circled the city likes bees over flowers.  As one edged even closer to the monument of human ingenuity they would then begin to make out the seething masses of people shuffling through the streets. Crowds of people packed so close together that they appeared as a living wave that road between the towering skyscrapers, each person going to hither and yonder.  A seething mass of which two unlucky and wayward souls now attempted to press through. “Sorry!” Mara shouted as she bumped into yet another bystander. Their response was a sneer and glare aimed her way before they continued steadily onwards past her. She had just turned around when yet another person bumped into her, to which she then said “Sorry” yet again.  This had been going on for several blocks now as Mara was unable to find a way through the mass of people without bumping into a dozen or so of them. “You know, it was cute of you to keep apologizing to everyone you bump into Mara.” Mara turned to see Elizabeth had stopped and the crowd parted around her like river water around a stone.    “So you’re saying that it’s not cute anymore?” Mara remarked as she dodged just in time to avoid yet another passing pedestrian. She dodged again until she was standing next to Elizabeth. “Hardly. Though I was going to say you should stand closer to me.” “How is it these people part for you but are fine trampling over me?” “It’s all about looking a certain way. Not with clothes, but with posture and your expression. When they are just right it’s like you radiate a field letting others know not to mess with you.” Mara snorted. “Sure, but I think having a robotic chassis helps a bit more than you think.”  Elizabeth’s robotic insect legs glinted in the sun light. Despite the murmur of the crowd Mara could still make out the “click, click” sounds of Elizabeth’s spider legs touching the sidewalk. The eight legs easily maneuvering her through the ever opening and closing gaps in the crowd allowing her to move forward effortlessly.  Elizabeth reached out and grabbed Mara’s hand. “Here, It’s easier if I lead the way.” Mara didn’t know what else to do at the moment so she let Elizabeth pull her through the crowded sidewalk.  It was weird how Mara had come to Earth to make a name for herself back home by surviving on the human homeworld, yet now she was letting a human with robotic legs lead her through the streets of an unknown city. Her first day on Earth was going by so fast that she had not really thought about it. Should she really be so trusting of this human?  While she was lost in thought Mara also lost track of where she was until she finally felt Elizabeth stop tugging on her hand.  “Here we are!” Elizabeth announced proudly, though to Mara she had no idea exactly where “here” was. To her it looked like an empty alleyway that was dimly lit.  Oh fuck, Mara thought as she realized what was about to happen, she’s going to murder me!  Mara began slowly backing the way she had come why Elizabeth’s back was still turned to her. Elizabeth was approaching an ominous doorway at the end of the alley, the clicking of her metal limbs on the wet stone echoing and unnerving Mara.  Elizabeth reached the door and pounded on it hard. Mara was about to turn and run when a slit opened up and a pair of intimidating eyes gazed out at the two.  “Password?” came a raspy voice behind the door.  “Marvin I know it’s you so just open the damn door.” Mara was surprised with the boldness of Elizabeth. “That’s not the password.” came the reply.  Elizabeth started pouting and put her face right up against the slit in the door. “Marvin, so help me if you do not open this door right now I will beat the shit out of you with all eight of my legs!” There was a long pause.  “Come on Lizzy.” The eyes behind the door suddenly softened up. “I’m just doing my job here.” Elizabeth slammed her palm against the door. “You mean the bloody job I helped get you?!” “Oh, right. You did help me with that.”  Another long pause of silence before the person behind the door rolled their eyes and began unlocking the door. The rusted iron door began slowly opening outwards and Mara got a good look at the figure standing behind the doorway.  She wanted to say he was human, but he was easily twice the size of Elizabeth. He was heavily muscular and his right hand had been replaced with a large claw like clamp Mara had seen on cargo unloading machines at the spaceport.  Marvin gazed down at Elizabeth and though his eyes had returned to their once serious gaze the rest of his body made him look like he was embarrassed. “Is it really so hard to remember a single password Lizzy?” Marvin said as he stepped aside to let her through. Elizabeth smiled and began walking through, the two of them fist bumping with their metal limbs as they passed each other. “How the hell am I going to remember a password with eight letters, a number, and a symbol? This is an underground private market, not an email account!”  Marvin nodded as if he had been arguing the same thing. “I said the same thing to my boss last week and suggested we get special bits we’d get implanted in our body to identify customers. But then he said “Well what if someone just steals the bit?” So I said that’d be great, because then the customer would have to come back and buy a new one just to get in again! But the boss didn’t like the idea and shooed me away. Sometimes I just think he doesn’t take me seriously.” Elizabeth placed her real hand on the him and looked up into his eyes. “You are just far ahead for our time my friend. Keep at him though with your ideas, I know they’ll get through his thick skulls eventually.” Marvin smiled a bit at her words. “Would be a long while then. The boss just got a new diamond carved skull for his brain unit so it’d take a while to get through that material.” Elizabeth just looked at the him and just patted him again before whispering “Never change....never change...” It was here the man finally turned away from Elizabeth and saw Mara, eyes looking at her inquisitively. “Lizzy, there’s a strange alien looking at me. If she’s not with you then I’m giving her the clamp.” To emphasize his meaning his right clamp opened and closed forcefully causing Mara to take a few more steps back.  “No! Bad Marvin!” Elizabeth called out before swatting his clamp away with her legs. “She’s a friend of mine I made a little while ago. I’m here to show her the specialty shops.” Marvin looked back and forth between Mara and Elizabeth. “Now when you say “a while ago”...” Marvin began. “I met her two hours ago...maybe three.”  Mara watched as Marvin stared at her with such inttensity it felt like a building was falling on her before he finally spoke., “Okay, she can come on in then to.”  He moved aside again for Mara to enter. Elizabeth turned around and motioned for Mara to come in. She was hesitant at first, but she was also paranoid that if she ran the claw man would chase her down. At least now he looked more docile with Elizabeth around.  She took one step forward and stared at Marvin. When he didn’t move she took another, then another, and another, until she had reached the door and was passing under it.  “Why are you so trusting of me even though I have only known Elizabeth for a few hours?” she asked Marvin who was beginning to close the door. He shrugged slammed the door shut before locking it and returning to his post, a little side table and stool with a game of what Mara had been told were “cards” being played out. “I’ve known Lizzy for a long time and am used to this sorta thing.” Marvin said as he drew a card with his clamp and placed it on top of another. “This one time she brought home a bear cub out of the blue.” “Is that odd?” Mara asked. “Considering we lived in the middle of a desert....yes, yes it was.” Before she could ask anymore question Elizabeth had taken her hand once more and pulled her through another set of doors.  Mara was met with a sudden blinding light and wash of earth music that dulled her sense for a moment. As her head cleared she a vast underground market filled with stalls of every shape and color.  “This is my favorite place in the whole city.” Mara turned as Elizabeth spoke, her eyes filled with wonder once again as she looked over the stalls. “Welcome to the Gotz Market, your one stop shop for oddities galore!”  They walked past the stalls and Mara couldn’t help admit that Elizabeth was right. Not only because the sellers did have some of the most odd merchandise she had ever seen, but because compared to Elizabeth the other customers were even more outlandish.  At table she passed what she thought was a female human who wore a reflective mirror mask over her face. Mara wondered if the masked came off when they had to eat only to realize that the woman’s left hand was actually a metal mouth chomping on food.  In a stall she saw the vendor displaying a variety of different augmetic eyeballs in a dozen or so glass jars. The customer they were talking with would smack the back of their head and an eyeball would pop out. The customer would then replace it with the one the vendor was holding and putting it into their empty eye socket. The customer turned and Mara saw the new eye glow with a fiery red.  Most odd was when Mara’s attention was drawn by a hooded figured walking between the stalls. At first she thought it was a Mubari considering it had four arms, but as she got closer she saw that it was a human that had grafted two additional artificial arms to their body. The two lower hands were holding a series of boxes while the upper hands were fiddling with a game of some sort on a mobile device.  Each stall they passed and went to Mara saw more and more mechanical wonders that continued to push her knowledge of humanity to its limit. Elizabeth seemed very much at home though and smiled and greeted several vendors and customers as if they were old friends.  “What do you think?” Elizabeth asked as Mara was inspecting a series of crystal limbs. “These are more advanced and artful then  anything I’ve ever seen.” Mara conceded. “But I never knew so many humans had birth defects like yourself.”  Elizabeth cocked her head to the side trying to comprehend Mara’s statement. “That all of these people were damaged somehow is most disheartening, though I am thankful such a place exists that they can make themselves whole again.” Elizabeth, realizing what Mara was getting at, shook her head.  “Not everyone here was like me Mara. In fact, most of the people here didn’t have any problems with their normal human bodies.” “Then....then why did I see so many humans that did not look human?” Mara asked as she looked once more at the surrounding customers.   “Humans have always dreamed about altering their bodies even before they had the means to. When we got our hands on such powerful technology we finally had a chance to make these dreams a reality. Each of us could strive for our own personal perfection.”  Mara pondered this as they continued through the stalls. As Elizabeth said, each human she passed must have been working towards their own perfection, since no two humans she saw had the same augmentations.  Eventually they reached a stall that was near the center of the market. “Ula, I’m home!” Elizabeth called and from behind the curtain came an elderly woman. “Well if it isn’t my favorite spider girl.” the woman said as she went in front of the counter to give Elizabeth a hug. “I had a feeling you’d be by when I messaged you your order was ready.” Mara didn’t understand what this order business was all about when she noticed Elizabeth had opened the front of her chassis and was attempting to exit it.  “I can help you.” Mara said reflexively and went to asst Elizabeth. She got her out and put her down on a nearby chair, inwardly remarking how light Elizabeth was when compared to her size in the chassis. “Thank you deary. I’d have helped myself but my old limbs aren’t built for sweeping women off their feet anymore.” The old woman said as she hooked a cable inside Elizabeth’s chassis and began remote controlling it behind the counter.  “Give me a few minutes and it’ll be ready.” she remarked before disappearing behind the curtain.  For the first time Mara was able to get a clear look at Elizabeth’s legs. Unlike the rest of her upper body, her legs appeared slightly shriveled up, like they were fruit that had been out in the sun too long. Seeing them like that she couldn’t help but realize what joy her new legs must bring her.  “You keep staring at my legs like that I’m sure people will start getting ideas.” Elizabeth chuckled. Mara broke out of her trance and took a look around at the surrounding customers who were all staring at her now with light grins. Suddenly dawning on her the implication, she turned to Elizabeth again and stammered out a barely understandable response. “It’s alright Mara.” Elizabeth said as she opened up her arms and hugged her.  The hug, the first hug she had ever gotten from anyone let alone a human, felt warm and comforting.  Mara didn’t know what to do at first and simply returned the gesture and hugged Elizabeth back. So.... warm, Mara thought. A complete contrast to how her lower body appeared. In a way, that hug gave Mara some understanding as to why humans augment themselves so oddly at times. They didn’t care if the rest of the world understood them or not for their choices and tastes, all they cared about was staying true to themselves and finding their own happiness. Just as Mara was starting to enjoy the hug the elderly woman appeared again with the chassis in tow and saw the two of them hugging. “I can come back later you know. Benefits of owning your own stall and all.” Mara quickly let go of Elizabeth, though Elizabeth hugged her for a bit longer before finally letting go and they both turned to look at the chassis.  Instead of the previous polished metal look it was now adorned with a desert yellow paint and covered with symbols and pictures Mara did not understand. she was going to ask what they were when Elizabeth began clapping and giggling happily. “It’s perfect!” she declared, waving the woman over so she can return to her chassis.  With a bit more enjoyment this time, Mara helped Elizabeth into her exoskeleton and watched it seal up around her. Elizabeth took a deep breath and closed her eyes and began moving her robotic limbs one at a time to ensure they were running fine. “Aside from the detail work I ran a diagnostic and general maintenance on it as well. She’s fit as a fiddle so go play yourself a tune.”  Elizabeth paid the woman and she and Mara both continued on their shopping.  “Thanks for being patient.” Mara looked at her and saw her bright smile again and didn’t know how to respond. She looked down and pointed at the symbols now on her legs. “Those are impressive markings. What do they mean?” “This is a memorial to my people’s culture, what you’d call Egyptian.”  “I see, and are these your gods?” she said as she examined the artwork. “They were at one time, but now I like having them just to remind me of home.” Elizabeth remarked. Mara was still looking at them when she felt Elizabeth grab her hand.  “So you came with me on my errand, you pick what you’d like to do next.” Mara was about to answer when her stomach gave off a loud rumbling sound.  “Food would be nice.” Without even asking what kind of food, Elizabeth smiled and began leading Mara away in search of their next adventure. Earth food.   

[wellthatjusthappend]

Ok, feel free to say no, obviously, but since you’re taking requests... I would KILL for Iron and Wine BruJay (after Dick leaves since you said that’s the option you went with for the story). If you don’t want to dig into an old fic, I get it. I could survive on some regular ol’ possessive BruJay, maybe a/b/o or mer if you want (I love your mer stuff too). Maybe B fights off a suitor and claims Jay himself (I don’t make a lot of asks... hope I gave you enough to work with ❤️)

No need for murder, I’m perfectly willing lol. 

Who's seen Jezebel?

(He) was born to be the (person) we could blame

Make me a beast half as brave

I'd be the same

-- Iron and Wine, “Jezebel”

Jason snuck out of the Manor the day he was sure Dick had truly left.

Apparently he’d fucked off to go mope with one of his many Bruce-replacements. Or something. Jason still didn’t know how to feel about those eyes on him. Wide and shocked whenever he caught them together. Hurt and confused and aroused and so so jealous. Jason would be a lot more pissed if he didn’t understand a little bit too well. 

Because one of these days, Bruce was going to come to his senses. 

Jason didn’t know when it’d happened: when his torment of Bruce had turned into addiction he could seem to let go of. Falling into bed with Jason was a little sin for Bruce to brood about on dark nights. But Batman never indulged in weakness for very long. Even Catwoman was sent to jail sometimes. One of these days, Bruce was going to efficiently cut Jason out of his life again. 

But Jason wasn’t going to wait around to be thrown away. Not again. Jason left on his own terms, nobody else's. He’d had his fun, now it was time to go before he could be cast aside for something much more appropriate. 

He wasn’t running away. He was taking control. 

It was hard to convince himself that when he was sitting alone in a new safehouse absently pressing against the finger shaped bruises on his wrists. Jason had barely been gone a day and he already wanted to go back. But that’s how addictions were, he reminded himself. It was good that he was putting a stop it now, before the feeling and emotional dependency got any worse. 

The game had seemed so simple at first; torment Bruce, make him hard for his former ward, and then leave him high and dry with his guilt.  Somewhere along the way, control had slipped out of his hands and into Bruce’s. It always fucking did. It made him feel small and cheap… never the first choice.

Well fuck Bruce. And fuck Dick Grayson too.

As if summoned by the thoughts, Jason felt a presence loom up behind him. 

“Get the fuck out,” Jason snarled, whipping around swinging. 

Surprisingly, it was Matches Malone- not Batman- who caught his punch. However, it was Bruce who was looking at him from behind tinted glasses. 

“We should talk,” he said gravely.

“What’s there to talk about?” Jason snapped, “You weren’t invited, now get out.”

“You didn’t even leave a note,” Bruce said stepping a little closer. 

“I never left a note before,” Jason said defensively, “Why should I have started now?”

Truthfully they both knew why; things had been different between them lately, but Jason sure as hell wasn’t going to admit to that now. 

“Are you coming back?” Bruce pressed.

“And why the fuck should I do that?”

“Your clothes are still in our closet.”

Jason knew. It had been haunting him a bit.

“Burn them.”

“Jason…” Bruce scolded him. 

“Maybe I got bored of you, Old Man, ever consider that?” Jason said, even as he was backed up against the wall. 

“Never,” Bruce said and kissed him. Jason snarled and bit him for his troubled but also pressed forward against his body instantly. He was so fucking trained at this point it made him hate himself a little more. 

Or maybe he just hated Bruce.

He wrinkled his nose at the scratch of the fake mustache against his mouth and took a moment to rip it off. That gaudy hideous suit had to go too, he thought as he kissed and worked on clumsily clawing it off. Bruce was making a quick work of Jason’s belt too, reaching those big big hands underneath to grip his ass just the way Jason liked. Jason moaned, his legs spreading just a bit automatically. 

In just a moment, Bruce was probably going to fuck him against the wall until Jason couldn’t think anymore and then find some way to bring him back to the Manor with him while Jason was stoned on his own enorphins. He’d fuck Jason over, just like he always did. Jason didn’t even know why he bothered if beautiful people like Dick would warm his bed in an instant. Maybe Jason was already too ruined for him to worry about. 

The thought was ugly and brought with it the comforting edge of anger that let him trip Bruce up and pin him to the floor instead. 

“Not this time, Old Man,” Jason hissed. He held Bruce’s arm behind his back, pulling his pants just far enough down to rub his cock along the crease of his ass. He felt Bruce tense and deliberately relax again.

It would feel so good to just push in, not just physically but emotionally. To hurt Bruce back for all the ways he hurt Jason. To punish them both a bit for… everything.

Bruce would let him do it. As usual that quiet acceptance and apathy hurt more than anything. In this moment, Bruce expected Jason to forcefully take him. To hurt him sexually and was prepared for just that. It brought up too many memories of his parents and that resigned look in his mother’s eyes when his father was working up to one of his rages. That he was going to hurt her but it was all okay because she loved him and he had permission- the right- to hurt her any way he liked. 

No one had that right.

Jason pulled away feeling sick to his stomach. 

“Jason…?”

“Stay away from me,” Jason said hoarsely as he tucked himself away. He saw Bruce turning over in the corner of his eye, but Jason couldn’t look at him. Instead, he grabbed his helmet and walked out the door. 

He’d have to find a better hiding place next time.

[hiroasu-akika]

Yo everybody, here have some VRAINS Fanfic Ideas/Prompts

I'll probably try my hand at these myself at some point, but I'm putting them out for anyone to use because I probably wouldn't write them well. Prompt #1: Yusaku can see and/or summon Duel Spirits. Just a general thing, feel free to do whatever you want with this one. Some of the following prompts are a more fleshed out version of this concept.

One of the thoughts that spawned this idea was what if Yusaku was spirit sensitive during the Lost Incident, and thus was pretty much adopted by Duel Spirits. Fast forward ten years, and he has a Jiraiya of the Sannin-level spy network without anyone being any the wiser. There was also the thought of stern and standoffish Playmaker being Soft(™) with his monsters. Animal-like and The simple machine monsters would be pets. The human-like monsters would range from parental figures, to older or younger siblings to small children. The Code Talkers would absolutely act like how medieval knights would toward their king/liege. His dragons would be the seemingly ferocious guard dogs that growl at anything within 30 feet of Yusaku, but are in reality “the attention span of a sparrow” puppies. (They are adorable and Yusaku loves them, yes he does. Firewall really is a ferocious guard dog with everyone except Yusaku tho)

You could also do a Yusaku slowly awakens to the ability to see/hear Duel Spirits mid-canon (at any point in the plot you want). 

This could be funny: Yusaku being confused(™) until it makes sense, or angsty: Yusaku getting incredibly paranoid/anxious or thinking he's actually going insane while his friends/allies/fans begin to worry as he begins to act strangely.

(I just really want Spirit/Psychic Duelist!Yusaku in any form okay?)

Prompt #2: The one where Yusaku catches the eye of Stardust Dragon, and is subsequently adopted by said dragon without any say in the matter.

(Bonus if Yusei is just there and serenely lets it happen.)

Stardust: this is my son I will vaporize anything that hurts him

Yusei: yea cool guess I've got a little brother now

Yusaku: ...do I get any say in th-

Stardust: shh my sweet child I will protect you

Yusei: no not really

Yusaku:

Random Knight of Hanoi #179: *hurts Yusaku, is realizing his error* OOOOOH SHIIII-!!!!! SOL Tech: *sweats*

Note #1 - Yusaku can see Duel Spirits in this AU. They tend to materialize themselves [read: to defend their precious child] in his general vicinity whenever they feel like it. Den City as a whole is pretty much resigned to and somewhat fond/proud of this fact. (Most of its residents have in fact all adopted Yusaku as well. Tourists are usually hella confused.)

Tourist: hey does that kid have a Kuriboh on his head? Den City Resident: that's just Yusaku, don't mind him

Tourist: is that a goddamn DRAGON??? Den City Resident: *serenely, not even looking* that's normal everything is fine

Tourist: ?!??! Note #2 - Yusei can be along for the ride. If so, he and Stardust are pretty much post-5D's immortal gods that watch over mankind while the Crimson Dragon sleeps.

Note #3 - Can be cracky, serious, angsty, or anything in-between, go wild! Prompt #3: How to Train Your [Cracking/Borrel/Stardust/Sky/Winged] Dragon - The one where Duel Monsters wander freely and peacefully around VRAINS when not in use during duels, and Playmaker stumbles across an injured Cracking Dragon. Chaos ensues as he helps and inadvertently befriends the beast. Note - Could alternatively have the Duel Monster be one of Revolver's "Borrel" Dragons, Stardust Dragon, or- for the lols- Slifer the Sky Dragon or the Winged Dragon of Ra. Prompt #4: The one where Yusaku is thrown headfirst from Link VRAINS into the world of My Hero Academia, with Ai along for the ride. (Can be cracky, serious, angsty, or anything in-between, go wild!) Suggestions that don't have to be used - Yusaku's “Quirk” could be his Link Sense, only amplified to the point where he has the ability to connect to/hack the network and manipulate it however he wishes with any electronic device or his thoughts. He can also summon his Cyberse monsters by forming them from raw data. Yusaku can also turn into Playmaker to hide his identity.

Ai can either remain in Yusaku’s duel disk, or leave it in either his tiny or full sized “human” forms. He can also transform into his six-armed monster form, in which he can consume data to either save or delete it. Kaminari could possibly trigger Yusaku's PTSD with his Quirk on accident. Prompt #5: The one where Yusaku is unknowingly infected with a virus, and all hell breaks loose. Can either be pretty-much-drunk/high!Yusaku, or essentially Berserk Jinchuriki!Yusaku, or just angst. NOTHING sexual, please. Prompt #6: The one where Link VRAINS falls prey to a virus/hacker, leaving everyone currently logged in with no way to log out- including Playmaker. Basically SAO, YGO-style. Go wild with this one. Prompt #7: The one where VRAINS and the real world are merged without any warning, and Yusaku is unfortunately smack in the middle of Algebra when his Link Sense goes crazy...seconds before he forcefully glitches into Playmaker right in front of his entire class. (This one was a random thought, and can be cracky, serious, or angsty.)

Prompt #8: The one where Yusaku’s account is hacked so that his avatar has the features of Firewall Dragon, and he can’t remove them. (...It was Ghost Girl’s fault, he just knew it.) Note - Yusaku has Firewall Dragon's halo, wings, tail, and can have some of its armor. He can also have elongated canines and claws. (And yes, the original thought was Ghost Girl pranking Playmaker.)

Prompt #9: The one where Yusaku is blind or deaf IRL due to permanent damage suffered during the Lost Incident, but he has his sight/hearing while in VRAINS because it isn't his physical body. (Conversely, he still lacks his missing sense(s) even while in VR, and is just really good at hiding being blind/deaf.) Suggestions for this AU that don't have to be used:

Note #1 - Can use one of two types of damage as the cause of Yusaku's disability:

Direct Damage: Yusaku suffered damage directly to his eyes/ears, allowing VRAINS to ignore said damage and for Yusaku to temporarily recover his lost sense while logged in. Brain Damage: The electric shocks caused damage directly to the parts of Yusaku's brain that are responsible for sight/hearing, which causes the damage to carry over even while Yusaku is logged into VRAINS. Note #2 - If blind, Yusaku programs his avatar's eyes to automatically track people's movements and faces so that he can “look" at them, and his cards to either have braille text, or an audio feed that only he can hear that reads his cards off to him. May have Ai and/or Roboppi serve as something similar to a seeing eye dog. Or you could throw Prompt #1 into the mix and also have Duel Spirits help Yusaku out. Yusaku can have a specially programmed set of (Ai-themed) headphones that Ai can inhabit that allow the Ignis to speak with him privately or IRL. They are a headset in VRAINS and earbuds IRL.] Note #3 - If deaf, Yusaku knows sign and is mute as well. He has specially programmed text boxes that allow him to read everything his opponent says during duels, and follow whatever is going on easier. Yusaku can have a specially programmed phone that Ai can inhabit to send him text messages when IRL. Ai can also learn Sign.] Note #4 - In either version, Yusaku knows Morse Code and programs his avatar to have a higher sensitivity to vibrations as well. Ai is also quite a bit more protective of Yusaku.

Prompt #10: Playmaker counts out his convictions in threes for everyone to hear. Fujiki Yusaku hasn't spoken in ten years. (AKA The Selectively Mute Yusaku AU.) Prompt #11: The one where the same virus that killed Dr. Kogami traps and fragments Playmaker's consciousness data (mind) in Link VRAINS, thereby rendering him comatose, and his allies are left with no way to rescue him- save for delving into his fragmented mind to wake him up in person. Basically the Danny Phantom's-class-enters-his-mind fic, VRAINS-style. If you've ever read one of those fics, you'll get the concept, but I'll try to explain it a little anyway. [Note #1 - Suggestions for the people who enter Yusaku's mind are: Ai, Kusanagi, Takeru, Flame, Ryoken, Spectre (follows Ryoken), Akira, Ema, Aoi, Aqua, Go (hacks in), Roboppi (brought by Ai), and Kengo (also hacks in).] [Note #2 - The group has to experience Yusaku's memories as they attempt to save him- including those of the Lost Incident- in visceral detail. (I, personally, would serve still-in-his-asshole-phase-Go a nice heaping helping of #Guilt/Remorse/Horror(™) if you have him witness the memories.)] [Note #3 - The facets of Yusaku's personality are fragmented, with each being represented as their own separate version of Yusaku. Some suggestions are as follows (feel free to use them or do your own thing). Anger: Playmaker, and his eyes as well as the glow lines of his suit are red. Fear: Yusaku in his pajamas, as he was when he was shown suffering night terrors. Happiness: Six year-old Yusaku before he suffered the Lost Incident. Sadness: Base Yusaku, but he barely reacts to anything or anyone. His eyes are blue and he is constantly crying in near silence.

Hate: Think pissed off and severely injured Playmaker, but if he also had Vector(Zexal) or Lightning's twisted personality traits. 

Self Doubt: Yusaku as a nervous wreck and blaming himself for everything that has ever gone wrong. Shyness: Yusaku, but if he acted like Reira(ARC-V) or Hinata from Naruto.

Confidence: Playmaker, but friendly and smiling and enjoying dueling.

Selflessness: Yusaku, but his color scheme is predominantly white. Would sacrifice himself for his allies.

Selfishness: Playmaker, but his color scheme is predominantly black. Would cast his allies aside without a second glance.

The true Yusaku can him as he normally appears, or his beat-up six year-old self just before being rescued, or a beat-up six year-old Playmaker.] Prompt #12: Dark Signer AU. The one where Yusaku didn't survive the Lost Incident, but thanks to being a Dark Signer, nobody realizes this little detail. (I need more Dark Signer!Yusaku m'kay? Nemesis by DarkZorua100 is glorious, bUT i neeD mORe) [Note #1 - Angst obviously, unless you can somehow put a humorous spin on Yusaku trying to hide the fact that he's, y'know, dead from everybody. And semi-failing. Takeru: ooooh my god he's f*cking dead yoU'RE a f*CKinG zomBIE-

Yusaku: wait i can expla-

Takeru: *illegible screeches of terror*

(i'm a terrible person who would make this funny heLP)

Can have the temperament of Yusaku's Immortal vary depending on whether you do angst or humor:

Angst: Either a complete asshole that makes Yusaku's unlife hell, or semi-benevolent. Humor: Excited puppy.]

[Note #2 - Stray thought was that Yusaku's Earthbound Immortal could be Ai's monster form? Or at least based on it. (or even be the reason Ai has it, since none of the other Ignis seemed to have alternate forms.)] [Note #3 - In my version, Yusaku was the only Lost Child to actually die. But you can have some or all of the rest of the children be Dark Signers too.] [Note #4 - Yusaku appears normal to everyone IRL- save for the facts that he-

Has no heartbeat and is strangely pale.

Exudes no body heat.

Never eats/sleeps or seems to react to pain when hurt (he doesn't bleed either).

He's a walking corpse and most people just don't connect the dots. In VRAINS, he's Playmaker as normal, but his sclera can change to, or permanently are, black. He also has a mark on his left cheek under his eye that's vaguely reminiscent of lines of digital coding.] Feel free to use any of these! Please send me a link to any stories you may write!

[pixie-unger]

The Inheritance

For @ban23.  18+  ILike this work?  Consider buying me a coffee or sponsoring my work.  Check out the Master List here.

Look, devil worship in just a thing I grew up with, OK?  Some kids have church and vacation bible school, I had sabbats and black mass.  It was just a thing my family did.  Instead of leaving our stockings out for Santa, we would all go down to the basement of Granny’s house at midnight on the darkest night of the year and make demands from the demon she kept imprisoned there.

Abrxz had been in the family for generations.  He just wasn’t that big of a deal anymore. Ten feet tall, horns, had to stoop to fit in the cellar.  The book described him as muscular, but he looked fairly rangy to me.  He still had the scaly skin, the crown of horns, the mouth full of sharp teeth and the long claws, but he was looking pretty moth eaten by the time I met him.

Then I became an angsty, rebellious teenager and I started just hanging out down there, writing bad poetry and worse love spells to get that cute football player to ask me out.

He did.

He gave me the clap.

Abrxz helped me curse him with herpes.

I was already finished college when Aunt Baal got pissed at Gran and shipped her off to a catholic nursing home.  The house and, by extension Abrxz, ended up being pillaged by the family.

It turned out I was the only one paying attention to the pronounciation all those years.  No one but me and Gran could command him.  He had been good to me when I was young and had no friends, the overly religious zealot that I was.  But growing up in a strict fundamentalist family, no wonder the other kids thought I was nuts.

At any rate, I thought ‘What the hell?’ and I broke the binding spell, effectively setting him free into the world.  He vanished and I thought that was the end of it.

Until I got home and found him standing sheepishly in the kitchen of my apartment.

“What are you doing here?” I demanded.

Abrxz flinched, “You don’t have a basement.  You didn’t give me permission to terrorize your downstairs neighbours, Master.”

I blinked.  My downstairs neighbours were a family of Syrian refugees.  “You stay out of their way. They have enough problems without having a demon move in with them.” I commanded.

“Oh. I’ll just go over here, then,” he said awkwardly, and start making a nest in my broom closet.

I just shook my head and moved my towels.  I ordered delivery chinese and sat down to watch Sabrina the Teenage Witch on Netflix.  The new one, where they got all of the demonology wrong.  As compared to the old one, where they still got it all wrong but Salem the cat was awesome.

I could feel him watching me.  I didn’t even turn around, but between mouthfuls of chow mein, said, “I took a philosophy class in college.  They talked about how people aren’t fully good or fully evil.  Most of us are pretty mediocre.  This is me, enjoying my Tuesday night, being mediocre.”  At that I could feel him leave.  I finish my dinner, spend some time looking at porn on Tumblr before brushing my teeth and heading to bed.

I took a moment to listen if Abrxz was still here.  There was no sign of him.  I spent a few minutes with a vibe and a dildo to take the edge off so I can sleep.

That night I dreamed Abrxz was standing over me, watching me sleep.  You would expect something like that to be creepy, but it was strangely comforting instead.

In the morning, the apartment was cleaner than it had been when I moved in and the kitchen was stocked with food.  I ignored it and grabbed a travel mug and bolted to my favourite coffee shop.  Work was the usual petty bullshit.  The office bitch had called parking enforcement on anyone who had a car in the lot that was a grey zone between worker and client use, but most used by staff.

I had a protection spell on my car so it got missed, but I still had to listen to everyone bitch about it.  I thought about hexing her, but the attraction of spell casting weares off when you know that there is a literal hell waiting for you.  Whatever darkness you call on, is there waiting to take payment when you die.   Abrxz had been valuable because we could bend him to the families will without fear because while he was trapped in this realm, he could not get his revenge after our deaths.

Yeah, that loophole had closed.

It started to rain on the way home.

Great.

I came home to the smell of roast in the oven and Abrxz wearing my “Kill the Cook” apron and looking nervous.

“What did you do?” I demanded, as though he were a dog that had knocked over a lamp.

“I cooked.  So you don’t have to order mediocre food.”

I swallowed.  This was not how this was supposed to go.

“I didn’t ask you to do that.”

“Please, I want to.”

Now I narrowed my eyes, “I am not trading part of my soul for dinner.”

He hung his head, “I am not asking you to, Master.  I choose to do this, you have not commanded me.”

I pursed my lips and considered this.

Then I sat down and looked at him.  At the beautifully laid out table set for one.  “Aren’t you going to join me?”  He shook his head.  “Because the food is poisoned?” I asked, always suspicious of free gifts.  He shook his head again.  “Then why won’t you eat?”

“Do you invite me to eat with you?”

I trying to think about the consequences of that, then I nodded.  

We ate the best meal of my life.  “Where did you get the groceries?” I asked.

“The grocer down the street rigged his scales and overcharges everyone.  I took what was owed.”

I shrugged, then washed the dishes while he hovered.  Once I had a few done, he dried them using bursts of hellfire.  It didn’t work so great on the tupperware.

“Netflix and -“ I stopped before I said chill and just headed silently to the couch.  

“That show is terrible.”

I grinned, “I know.”

TV, bath, bed.  I lay there in the dark and thought about my day.  Pitch black smoke billowed up from under my bed and caught my wrists and ankles, pulling me spread eagled on the bed.

“Let me,” Abrxz whispered.

I swallowed nervously, “What are you doing?”  I wanted to sound commanding, but it came out like a squeak.

“It has been a while, but I assure you I am better than those toys,” he purred.

“I am not trading part of my soul for an orgasm.”

The dim light through the blinds glinted off his teeth, “I am not asking you to, Master.  I choose to do this, you have not commanded me.”  The blankets rose off the bed as Abrxz materialized between them and me.  He snarled at my pyjamas and the melted like liquid and ran off my body, off the bed and onto the floor.

“Need trick,” I said.  

His grin widened and a long, wet, forked tongue fell from his lips.  He licked my cheek, then my throat, then my nipples.   My wrists were still bound tightly to the corners of my bed.  His warm hands ran up and down my sides before forcefully grabbing my hips tightly enough that his claws pricked at my skin.  His head dipped between my legs and his nostrils flared as he sniffed.

“You have been wasting your treasure on mortals who do not appreciate it,” he snarled, saliva dripping from his teeth.”

That made me snort.  Abrxz was naked and in all the years I had know him, my whole life, the only thing between his legs was a tangled fringe of skin strips.  The were only as thick as my little finger and they hung more than a foot looking like he was wearing a tasseled loin cloth.  But that tongue had potential.

I smirked up at him, “Oh?  Are you going to kiss me with that mouth full of teeth?”

He leaned in and used the tip of his tongue to lick my lips before growling softly, “Your toys did not kiss you last night.”

I tried to shrug.  It didn’t really work.  “You said you would be better then they were.  Come on.  Stop playing around and let me up.”

The grin he gave me was pure evil.  “You have a safe word and that is not it.”  Then his head dipped and he bit my breast enough to break the skin in a couple of places as his tongue coiled around the tip of my nipple.

I shrieked.   My mind was racing.  What safe word?

He lapped at the wounds, his tongue traveling lower as I forced myself to say as calmly as I could under the circumstances, “What safe word?”

“The one to make me stop,” he purred, then his tongue was between my legs and I didn’t want him too.

Until I remembered the teeth and my body tensed with fear.

“Mmmm.  That tastes nice,” it was almost a coo.  His clawed hands grabbed my hips and lifted so that he could push his tongue into me.  It was scratchy against my sensitive skin and I got scared.  As soon as I whimpered, he withdrew and put his face right up to mine.  With eyes that are dark, like holes into the void, it is impossible to say what he was focused on but he was watching me.

His body bunched up so that his hips were between mine.

That’s when I felt it.

The fringe wasn’t just fringe.  It started to move like dozens of little tentacles, swirling over me, exploring every surface.

“Are you going to make me stop?”

I closed my eyes and thought about it.  I still didn’t know what safe word he meant, but this was strangely nice.  It was like many wet and sticky fingers gently caressing me.  I sighed a little and that’s when they became more insistent.  They started pulling on me, tugging on any piece of skin they could coil around.  Occasionally one or two would poke inside of me.  Some of it was nice, but it was too random to be errotic.

“Ok,” I said, “good try.  Now let me up, my shoulders are starting to -” I stopped as they started to pour into my body.   One or two at a time, filling me ever fuller.  More and more pouring into me, filling me so full my body felt like I was going to burst.  I couldn’t even find words.  I was keening and helpless to stop.

He smirked down looking into my wide eyes.  “Want me to move now?”

I nodded.

I could feel the tendrils wrapping around themselves.  Tying themselves into one thick knot. His head bowed and he ran his tongue over my neck and down my chest.  It was scratchy like a cats and incredibly prehensile.  His hips weren’t moving at all, but I could feel his tendrils burrowing into me.  He licked up my chest and neck, the lapped at my cheek.  “I wanted to taste you.”  He was still looking into my eyes, into my very soul.

Then he began to move and my eyes rolled back into my head before falling shut.

The restraints on my ankles pushed up forcing my knees to bend and my legs to open was wide as they could and he slammed into me like he was trying to split me in two.  My body writhed and my back arched and he licked me again from nave to lips before sliding his tongue into my mouth until I choked on it.  As he pulled back, I coughed and gasped for air my body spasming and clenching around him.  “Good,” he purred.  “Now this time, suck.”

I was impossibly, painfully full, being spit roasted by a single mostrous being.  Then he pulled away from my mouth and reared up.  “Cum!” he roared.

And, with a splash, I did, screaming his name, ”ABRXZ!”

WIth a flash and a whiff of brimstone, he was gone.

Demons are shit at aftercare.

[flslp87]

A Happy Ending Begins With Hope     A Season 7 Canon Divergent

Summary:   Revenge, Kidnapping, Curses, and Redemption all revolve around an unlikely source…Hope.

You can read the parameters I used for this story here.  

Thank you @linda8084 @jamif   @juliakaze and @duathadun  for being my guinea pig readers.   

Can be found on AO3 and FF. 

Tumblr -  Chapter 2  Chapter 3  Chapter 4 Chapter 5  Chapter 6   Chapter 7

Chapter 1 

Words ~ 6400                  Rating ~ K+

Occurs immediately after the EQ cast the curse sending those from the Enchanted Forest to the Land Without Magic. 

Wish Realm 

WHook arrived at the docks to find his crew lounging around like the vermin they were, and with a loud bang woke them all. “Get up, you filthy bilge rats. Playtime’s over.” 

They slowly roused, giving him enough attention for him to order, "I need the Jolly Roger ship shape before we set sail.  You have an hour." 

"But, WCaptain,” Smee interrupted, “you haven’t even told us where we’re going yet." 

"We,” WHook boasted, “are going to the land without magic, Mr Smee.  Once the WEvil Queen casts her curse, I will finally get my chance to exact revenge on the Dark One." 

"Actually,” the WEvil Queen sauntered across the dock, “no one’s going to be going anywhere. And neither will I,” she finished dejectedly, moving closer to where he was standing. 

“Your majesty,” WHook gave her a confused look, “shouldn’t you be casting your curse?" 

"Well, I would be,” she began, “if that insipid WSnow White and her WCharmless Prince hadn’t stopped me." 

"How the bloody hell did they do that?” he scoffed, not quite believing what he was hearing. 

“They stole my magic.” She pouted, but something in her demeanor served to put him on edge. 

Smee whispered, “WSnow White defeated the WEvil Queen? I did not see that coming." 

His last words reached the WQueen’s ears, causing her to whip around and lift her hand as if to choke him, but without magic her move was ineffective.   

WHook wanted to smile but her lack of magic could prove to be a rather large obstacle in his ability to exact his revenge. "That must be frustrating.” His thoughts were zipping around in his head as to what this meant. “Hang on, if you can’t cast the curse then my chance of revenge is lost as well." 

"Perhaps,” she hummed, turning her back on him and holding up a piece of paper. “I’ve brought a map that leads to a special flower…a magical flower,” she clarified, a small smile playing along her lips. 

WHook watched her as she explained that the map would lead him to the flower and that if he found it and brought it back to her, then she would use its magic to cast the curse.  The more she talked the more he suspected that she wasn’t being completely truthful, but bloody hell, if it helped lead him to the Crocodile, he would do whatever was necessary.   

“Will you help?” she asked, a hint of desperation in her voice. 

“Aye,” he told her quietly, his mind already making plans.  As he gathered supplies, WHook kept one eye on the WQueen, noticing her peculiar behavior. She was almost carefree, not bitter and angry, snapping at everyone to do her bidding.  "Something’s amiss with our guest,“ he whispered quietly.  "Keep an eye on her while I’m away." 

Smee gave a quick nod of his head. "Will do, WCaptain." 

WHook grabbed his pack and as he walked past her hissed in her ear, "You’d better be telling me the entire story, Your Majesty." 

With a gasp, she looked up quickly through squinted eyes. "Why, WCaptain,” her hand went to her chest, “you don’t trust me?" 

WHook held her gaze a second or two without saying anything, holding his hook in such a way as to draw attention to the tip. "As much as you trust me.” Her widened eyes confirmed she understood his message, and with another glance at his ship, he whirled around and hurried off. 

~~~ouat~~~ 

The map was rather crudely drawn, but simple enough to follow if one knew what he was were doing. Simple though it was, it was not a short walk and would take many hours before he reached the part of the forest where the magical flower grew and where, legend had it, a witch was imprisoned in a tower. As the day was coming to an end, the path ended abruptly, dividing into two; one traversing off to his right, the other…to his left.  The map no longer any help, WHook, had to choose his own fate, and with a glance in each direction, took a step to the right to see where his fate would lead. 

The path was not straight, nor was it simple, filled with many twists and turns and overgrown with briars and thorns that clawed at his duster, forcing him to cut his way through.  With each thicket that he cut away, his thoughts kept returning to the possibility that he had taken the wrong fork, that the path to the left might have been the easier road to take him to his destination: a magical flower, that with the WEvil Queen’s magical knowhow would allow him to finally…finally get his revenge.   

His path blocked by a particularly dense growth of plants, WHook set to work, chopping and then pulling off, chopping and pulling off, over and over until the last branch parted.  He stepped through into a clearing, the ground covered in dirt, brown and dry with numerous cracks running like veins in every direction. Grass, if any had ever been there, was no longer lush, but only visible in sparse patches of a browned, yellowish, hay-like substance.  The air was dank, smelling not of forest, but of death and despair, and in the center, stretching up into the clouds, was the tower. It stood alone, defenseless, ripe picking by a resourceful pirate, he thought as he uncoiled his rope and prepared to climb. 

One foot, a hand, the other foot, then his hook, slowly WHook moved up the side of the tower, finding footholds in the many vines twined around the old stones or in the crevices left from decay.  Several times during his climb, he thought of turning back but fate had chosen this path for a reason and he was determined to see it through.   

As he neared the top, the gentle light emanating from the window seemed to indicate that someone, indeed, lived in the tower.  Was it the sorceress that was rumored to be trapped within or was there some other reason that the tower appeared to be inhabited? Time to find out, he thought as he reached the window. 

He sank the tip of his hook into the soft clay surrounding the window and hoisted up enough to get one leg over the edge.  After that all he needed was to reposition his hook and he was inside and getting his first look at the room.   

It wasn’t the sparseness of the furnishings that drew his attention, nor was it the haggard appearance of the supposed sorceress, but rather her long blonde hair that struck a chord deep inside his mind.  A memory of a woman he’d met in a bar, one whose very being made him believe he could let go of his first love and find someone else. “It’s you,” he breathed as she slowly turned around and the hope inside shuddered and died. 

“Oh, you look upset that I’m not the one you wanted.” Her body language was relaxed in contrast to the haughtiness in her voice as she moved closer to where he was standing. 

Her looks, while not the features from his memory, were not unpleasant, making him think she could have been a hasty diversion, had he not been on a mission. “No great loss,” he shrugged his shoulders, creating a distance between them.  "The view,“ he gave her the once-over, "is pleasant enough." 

He watched a transformation come over her face, moving to seductive in the blink of an eye as she sidled closer, running a long nail around the collar of his leather jacket.  "I’m so happy to see you,” she purred, moving ever closer to rest her head against his shoulder.  "I’ve been waiting for a brave, strong man to rescue me.“ 

WHook met her gaze and there was something behind her eyes that told him there was more to the story. "Rescue you? Who put you here?" 

"Why, Rumpelstiltskin…Captain.” He tried to cover up his surprise that she knew who he was, but her smirk told him he had been unsuccessful.   

“Seems you have me at a disadvantage.  You are?" 

She gave him a demure smile. "Rapunzel,” she answered quietly. 

WHook nodded his head briefly, “A pleasure.” Her eyes flashed something that he wasn’t sure how to interpret, but as she had quickly turned her back and walked away, he let it go. 

She picked up a small flower lying on a table close by. “I need the magic of a special flower to escape from this place. This one just isn’t strong enough,” she whispered softly, her eyes burrowing into his, almost hypnotic in their intensity. The woman trailed the flower along his jaw, down his chest, creating a feeling of euphoria inside his head and heart but…his will in contradiction with both. Hook wrapped his hand around her wrist almost forcefully, creating distance between his body and hers. Was she worthy of his trust? 

As he put more distance between himself and the flower, the clearer his thoughts became, forcing him to consider the possibilities. Could his revenge on the Dark One be so close? “You said the Dark One trapped you in here?” He leaned back against a table, folding his arms across his chest. “Why?" 

Her eyes shifted away from his, a slight frown appearing on her forehead. "The Dark One?" 

"Aye,” WHook answered impatiently, “Rumpelstiltskin." 

"No, it was Savior Rumpelstiltskin. He’s the one." 

"Savior?” WHook advanced, yanking her close by her arm. “Explain." 

She detailed that in her Enchanted Forest, Rumpelstiltskin had been a Savior until he had done something that had darkened his soul. Hook was left pondering the possibility of Rumpelstiltskin the Savior and Rumpelstiltskin the Dark One.  Could there more than one Rumpelstiltskin, and how did he know which was his real nemesis? "Bloody hell!” He slammed his hand down on the table, the magical flower crushing under his palm.   

The woman hissed, “See what you did?” Her mercurial moods continued as she stomped her foot in frustration before quickly bringing her fit of temper back under control. “Will you help me…please?" 

And just like that, he was once again at a crossroads. Did he stick with his plan for finding the flower and trusting the WEvil Queen to help him with his revenge or did he trust this lass and help her?  "I’ll get the flower,” he finally told her, but he knew he would wait until he had it in hand before deciding what to do with it. 

“Oh, thank you!” She threw her arms around his neck, kissing him heartedly.   

WHook removed her arms. “Don’t thank me yet, love. Save that for later.” With one last look at his surroundings, he winked and climbed back out the window, the look in her eyes staying with him as he maneuvered himself down the cobbled stones of the tower. 

~~~ouat~~~ 

Once his feet were back on the ground, WHook returned to the place where the path forked, and this time moved off to the left.  He found that the farther away from the tower he walked, the clearer his head, the more focused he was on his journey.   

His path took him deeper into the forest, the trees becoming thicker and the ivy and plants denser.  It wasn’t long before the soft ivy gave way to limbs full of thorns and briars which caught on his leather sleeves.  Every thorn that stuck brought to mind the Dream Shade plant and his brother’s bull-headedness when it came to that plant…and many other things, if he were honest.  What would he think of the man his little brother had become? 

The thorny plants quickly gave way to foliage so thick that he pulled out his sword, prepared to cut his way through.  Lifting his arm high, he sliced forward, but instead of watching pieces of the plant fall to the ground, it…folded in on itself, the limbs, moving out of the way.  "Bloody hell!“ he exclaimed, his outburst sounding loud in the near silence surrounding him. 

But after that, it was as if he’d been invited in, as the forest seemed to come alive.  The trees looked like they were bowing, and the leaves were folding aside just enough to allow the last rays of dying sun to peer through, each ray ending as it barely touched the tips of a golden flower, its petals glowing with life, pulsing with the magic it held inside.  Enough flowers for me to bring one to the lass, Rapunzel, he thought, and several to the Queen.   

WHook stepped up to the field and opened his satchel, intending to fill it with the magical blooms, when a familiar voice whispered, "Don’t touch!" 

Without thinking, his sword was drawn and he had whirled in the direction of the voice, only to be caught by surprise to find only an apparition before him.  WHook jabbed at the sight. "Crocodile!” His sword went completely through his nemesis. “Show yourself!" 

The ghostly body wavered a bit brighter, but never fully formed into that of the man whom he had sought to kill for so many years. "Miss me?” WRumpelstiltskin cackled with pleasure every time the sword was swung toward him.  "Come now, WCaptain.  Is that the best you can do?“ 

"Revenge will be mine, Dark One, when the tip of my sword pierces your flesh,” Hook promised menacingly.   

“Is that any way to speak to the man who has come to warn you?” WRumpelstiltskin giggled. 

WHook studied the ghost-like figure in front of him, wondering how he had known where to find him, and why. “Warn me?” WHook raised a brow, “What would you know that you could warn me about?" 

The Dark One steepled his fingers, a sneaky smile crossing his face. "I know that you were thinking of gathering several of those flowers to spread the magic around.  But don’t touch them, you can’t control your thoughts…your feelings…or your actions if you do." 

The awareness of how his thinking had become muddled after the lass had touched him with the flower floated through his mind. "Explain yourself!" 

The Crocodile studied him quietly before answering, "The magic…it can, shall we say,” he waved his hand around, “alter your thoughts." 

WHook scoffed. "My faculties are my own, but,” he raised his sword higher, its tip resting in the chest region of Dark One, “since you ask so nicely, I plan to rescue the lass that you imprisoned." 

His visitor laid his hand on his chest, an expression of shock crossing his face. "Moi?  I did no such thing." 

"Savior Rumpelstiltskin ring any bells?” WHook asked, his question laced with sarcasm. 

The ghostly Dark One’s maniacal laugh rang loud in the forest. “That bumbling idiot?  You’ve got your story wrong, WCaptain.   Beware of the friend who is really your enemy, and the enemy who is really your friend.”  His golden eyes glowed brighter. “Ta ta.” And with a wave of his scaly, transparent fingers, he was gone.   

WHook worked quickly building a fire, all the while thinking about the cryptic words spoken by his greatest enemy.  And yes, he was a liar but the instinct that had helped him survive hundreds of years was telling him that there was a note of truth in there…somewhere, and perhaps he needed to listen.   

Once stretched out on his bedroll, he pulled the memories of every conversation, every feeling he’d had over the last 24-hours out and examined them, but unable to find any answers he drifted into a restless sleep. 

~~~ouat~~~

The Watcher breathed a sigh of relief that the plan was falling into place.  Soon everyone would pay for what they had done and the happy ending would belong to one. 

~~~ouat~~~ 

WHook awoke from a night filled with too many dreams, too many memories, none of which made sense, but with the urgency to get on with his revenge, he plucked a few blossoms.  One of the magical flowers was tucked inside his satchel, the other he held tightly in his hand, thinking to free the lass on his way back to the docks. 

The farther from the garden he traveled, the less urgent was his need to return. He felt free of his burdens, so free in fact that when he reached the fork there was no hesitation in which direction he would take.  He was going to help the lass and if more happened to occur, well…his crew could just wait. 

With each step, everything seemed to matter less as he hurriedly brushed aside obstacles, his destination ahead.  He pushed aside a particularly large vine with his hook, surprised when, as if it had a life of its own, it suddenly snapped back. Self-preservation caused him to drop the flower, his right hand catching the vine with a loud thwack! 

The noise reverberated inside his head, startling him…waking him in such a way that he looked around, reminding himself where he was.   His last clear thought had been of the urgency to get back to the docks before the WQueen found some other means to leave, and then…nothing. 

The Dark One’s voice floated through his head, “Its magic can alter your thoughts.” 

“The flower?” WHook frowned down at the yellow blossom laying crushed at his feet. With a shake of his head, he kicked the flower off the path, deciding it had side-tracked him enough for day.  With it out of the way, there was no question as to what he was going to do.  He quickly performed an abrupt about face, and followed the path leading him away from the tower and back to the docks, as nothing mattered more than skinning himself a crocodile. 

~~~ouat~~~ 

The pirate’s abrupt change in direction caused the Watcher to throw a glass object against a wall in a fit of anger.  "One thing, WCaptain, that was all you had to do.“ The sentiment was repeated several times, each one slightly louder than the one previously heard. "And she was your type, too.  That, I know.  Now I’ll have to do it myself." 

Supplies were gathered quickly and with a puff a smoke the Watcher materialized inside the tower.  "I told you what to do. What happened?" 

Rapunzel sneered at the visitor. "What do you mean, what happened?  He went to get me the flower.  He’ll be back." 

The Watcher scoffed. "Your WCaptain Hook seems to have lost interest in your charms, Rapunzel.  He left." 

"He did? Good.” Her enchantment wore off, magically turning her back into the witch, Gothel. “But you can get me out of here, right?" 

"Of course.  Lucky for you dear, I’m more powerful than the one who cursed the tower in the first place.”  A flick of the wrist and the curse was broken, and they were far away from the tower, making plans for what was to come. 

~~~ouat~~~ 

WHook arrived at the docks to find an almost party-like atmosphere with Smee and Her Majesty locked in a battle of dice. “While I was away, you ran out of things to do?” he snapped, his eyes daring his crew to counter him. 

“Sorry, WCaptain,” Smee pushed up from the table, “the WQueen and I were…passing the time until you got back." 

"Well I’ve returned,” WHook stormed farther into the melee. “Are we ready to set sail?” he asked of his crew before turning to the WQueen. “Ready to go find the Crocodile?" 

"You found the flower?  Oh goody,” she clapped her hands, “give it to me." 

"I found it,” WHook acknowledged opening his satchel so she could see where it had been hidden.   

“Excellent.” She pulled it from the satchel. “It’s working, I can feel my magic returning." 

Her dark eyes flashed with some hidden message, causing him to momentarily doubt her word.  He stopped her movements. "You’ll keep your promise?" 

"Don’t I always?” was spoken softly before she disappeared in a puff of smoke.   

As soon as she was gone, WHook sent his crew scurrying around, readying his ship for the long voyage.  When the WQueen hadn’t returned after an hour, he decided that she was having difficulties with a spell until he saw some of the crew pointing.  In the distance he could see thick purple smoke covering the area, threatening to wipe away anything in its path.  Hastily, he and the crew set sail, putting enough distance between the ship and the pier to see that the smoke wasn’t so much destroying as it was shielding.  His ship had been blocked, unable to dock again and with no other option, the Jolly Roger set sail in hopes of finding the realm without magic. 

Book World

The Rumpelstiltskin who lived in the Book World Realm had been created by a version of himself, who had teamed up with a rogue author creating a land where villains would get a happy ending.  His life was perfect, as he was married to the love of his life and had a small daughter, but then…a young boy showed up and the darkness inside of him took control. 

After that his life changed, and not for the better.  He found that while his goal was still to defend his village, he didn’t always take the hero’s path, often opting for the path of the least resistance…or the quickest to glory.  SaviorRumple ceased to exist and KnightRumple was born, albeit a knight with tarnished armor.   

Since the new author had undone Isaac’s work, the King and Queen returned to the side of good, but KnightRumple didn’t always agree with their plans, often working to thwart them. He found himself at odds, not only with the person that he had become, but with the rulers of his land, and more importantly with his wife.  She wanted what he found difficult to give. 

As things became more complicated between him and Belle, he received word that there were several villains he had encountered over the course of his life who were after him…or after his family.  Protecting his family became the most important aspect of his life, but no matter how he tried to explain this to her, she wouldn’t listen. 

“I don’t want you to protect me,” she’d admonished him.  "I want you to trust me.“ 

The next time he returned home, the very thing he had been guarding against had happened anyway.  His family was gone.  He had lost the battle.   

He spent years in self-reflection, looking for ways to turn his life around and have a chance to live the life with his family that they deserved.  It didn’t matter what he did, they were lost to him but still Belle’s voice echoed in his head: 

"But you’re the light one.  Whatever this force is, you’ll overcome it.  You’re a hero, Rumple. 

Through his unwillingness to change and take a chance that love was all that was needed, he had lost Bae when he was fourteen, he had lost Belle and he had lost their daughter, Alice, when she was the same age.  He was not SaviorRumple.  He was not KnightRumple.  He was a coward. He was alone. 

To Storybrooke 

Hope looked down at the magic bean in her hand and once again closed her fist without throwing it. All she had to do was toss it, think about home and she would be back with her family but…would they even know who she was?  She had memories of being raised by them, but to her parents, she was only days old. 

"What are you so afraid of, love?" 

As usual, a chill ran up her spine at the words spoken to her by the man who was her father…yet he wasn’t. Words that she had read, time and again, inside the pages of her mother’s book.  Words that her father said to her mother when they were in Camelot and her mother had been afraid to let go of the darkness to light the Promethean Flame. But she wasn’t her mother. "What am I afraid of?” she tossed right back, and then shook her head at how sharp her response had sounded. “Sorry,” she hastened to apologize, for she knew it was the right thing to do, and he didn’t deserve her ire. “I’m just,” she took a deep breath and then tried again. “I’m not my mother.  I’m not the Savior.  Is this the best plan for me to get my family back?” The look that crossed his face had her quickly amending it to, “For us to reunite me with my family." 

"No, Hope, you aren’t the Savior.  You are the Guardian, someone stronger even then the Savior.  And besides,” he grinned, “I’ve yet to see you fail.”  Something must have flashed across her face, because his grin grew contemplative. “I did it again, didn’t I?" 

"Yes.” They shared a gentle smile, “I wish,” she worried her bottom lip, while organizing her thoughts, “I wish you could read their story.   It’s something else." 

The expressions that crossed his face made her wonder if she was doing the right thing, bringing him back to Storybrooke with her. "So do I, Hope,” he whispered, “so do I." 

Her breath caught in her throat at the truth behind his words. She had read his thoughts before, seeing it on his face every time she caught him looking at her when he didn’t know she was looking. And now after everything they had learned from Rumple about the whole converging and diverging of one’s lives, there were still so many what ifs. "What do you think will happen?  Will you know?  Will it hurt? And what about me?”  She knew her voice sounded a little too close to panic, but she couldn’t help it.  There had been so many things happening lately that, well…the possibility of another loss was a bit terrifying.   

He moved closer, giving her a paternal hug, and the smell and gawd, just the feel of him was so her dad that she felt the sobs rushing up inside. When he pushed her hair off her shoulder with his hook, just as her father had always done, she wanted to tell him to stay behind, that the possibilities were too great of a risk.  But he hadn’t put himself first any other time, why would she think he would do so now?   

“If the Crocodile is to be believed,” his quiet voice interrupted her thoughts, “we’ll not know until it happens… or doesn’t happen.” His eyes delved into her soul with their sincerity. “We just have to wait and see, but Hope,” he squeezed her hand tightly, “you know there is no way I’ll not chase you back to Storybrooke, right?" 

A part of Hope felt bad that this man that she had grown to care for…to love…knew that his future was uncertain, and yet he still wanted to be there…to reunite her with her father, her mother, her entire family, really.  The fear was there for herself, but for a different reason.  She wasn’t thinking about herself, but of her parents and how important it was for them not to miss out…on anything. "What about me?” she finally asked. “In Storybrooke, I’m a baby.  Will I become that baby or,” an awful thought crossed her mind, “will that baby disappear and my family…” She couldn’t finish the thought because there was no way she was allowing them to lose any of their happy beginning. 

He shook his head slowly, unable to give her an answer. “I don’t know, Hope, but we’ll handle it…together." 

Tears immediately filled her eyes, and nothing could stop her from throwing herself back into his arms, hugging him with everything inside. "It’s not fair,” she mumbled against the shoulder of his leather jacket. 

She could feel his heart was heavy even though he didn’t say anything, but she knew he never would.  He was just like her father in that sense and no matter how much was inside, he often didn’t share it with those in his life.  She knew that it had taken a while before her father shared everything with her mother…and her mother with her father. “Hope,” his pensive voice rifled her hair, “we’ll all be there for you. Whatever you need…whomever you need…we’ll be for you." 

His words made her stronger and with one last hug, she stepped back and squared her shoulders. "I’m ready." 

"Good, now shall we go?” He looked pointedly at the hand holding the bean. 

She sent him a grin and, with her parent’s faces and Storybrooke in her mind, tossed the bean.  The portal burst open, and home beckoned. “I did it." 

"Well done, love.” Together they jumped. 

~~~ouat~~~ 

The portal spit them out in a wooded area on the outskirts of Hope’s home, Storybrooke.  WHook watched happiness bloom on her face as she gazed down over the buildings below and the rest of the tension he’d been holding onto dissipated.  That she’d had a happy childhood had been evident in every word she had spoken, but to see the radiant smile inspired by the town with his own eyes was an experience he’d not soon forget. Could he give up his nomadic ways and make this his home? he wondered as he took in his surroundings.  But when the light from the setting sun caught the auburn highlights in her dark hair, he knew the answer was yes, he would give up his life for this girl…he had given up everything for her. 

“Perhaps I should go first,” he couldn’t stop himself from suggesting even knowing it would raise her ire.  When, as expected, her blue eyes sent sparks his direction, he couldn’t stop the feeling of pride that coursed through his system at seeing how confident and tough she was. “I know you are quite capable,” he hastened to add. “But,” unconsciously he tugged on his right ear, looking up at her, “I need to do this." 

Their eyes, so much alike, locked in a battle of wills until with a simple roll of hers, she relinquished control, even if only for a small moment in time. 

WHook tipped his head in acknowledgment, his thank you accepted with a slight up tilt of her lips, and putting one foot in front of the other, he pushed off.  He had taken no more than a dozen steps when the air shimmered in front of him, a barrier blocking their way, almost invisible unless standing close enough to feel its power. "A protection spell?” He looked at his companion, hoping she had the answer. 

She shook her head, a tiny frown appearing between her brows. “I don’t think so.” Slowly, she lifted her hands, holding them out in front of her, as if attempting to push the wall aside. “I remember reading about this exact thing in my mom’s book.” She ran her hands along the ‘walls’ of the barrier in an attempt to see if there was a way through. 

He tried unsuccessfully to cut into it with his hook. “Can you find any way in?" 

She pushed on the surface, but her efforts were just as ineffective as his. "No.  Any other ideas?" 

"Use your magic, love." 

His encouragement earned him a smile as she held her hands in front of her, focusing her thoughts on her desire for the invisible wall to dissolve. And just like she had discovered in the Enchanted Forest, the palms of her hands came alive. 

"That’s a girl.  Now can you channel that power into removing this obstruction?" 

As Hope’s hands grew closer to the barrier, the air in front of them pulsed and sparked.  With an optimistic look sent his way, she stretched her hands toward the invisible obstruction.   

Sparks flew. 

The air shimmered. 

And with a flash, the barrier was gone.  The smile that lit up her face could have provided enough light to guide them down the hill, if they had needed it.  "I did it!” She clapped her hands in glee, making her look much younger than her eighteen years. 

“Lead the way,” he waved toward the buildings in the distance. 

Without another word, Hope did as requested and led them through the woods and to the town up ahead.  They encountered no other obstacles on their journey, in fact, they encountered nothing.  No singing birds or animal sounds of any kind.   

By the time they reached the town line, his sixth sense, the one that had helped him survive for so many years, was trying to get his attention. “Is it always so quiet?” he finally asked. 

“No,” Hope mumbled, stopping to look around. “Something’s wrong." 

Hook gazed around the silent space, nothing moved, neither two legged nor four, which in a town this size had to mean Hope was correct and that something was amiss.  "You know this town.  Do we go to your home first?" 

A tiny frown rose between her brows while she worked out a plan. As if coming to a conclusion, her eyes met his. "We should go to Granny’s." 

"Granny’s?” he inquired curiously, “You want our first stop to be your grandmother’s?" 

She snorted, "Not my grandmother’s, just Granny’s. It’s like…a tavern, a gathering place. Come on." 

She took off running toward her destination, her long black hair swinging around the shoulders of her black, leather jacket.  She’s like a mustang filly, he thought, graceful and powerful and sleek.  Someone who would never be tamed, who should be allowed to roam free in her territory. Without another thought, he took off after her, willing to follow her through space or time. 

~~~ouat~~~ 

Standing outside of Granny’s, Hope knew whatever they were going to find inside wasn’t something that had occurred naturally, but she could still feel traces of magic.  Hesitant to face it alone, she waited until WHook caught up with her, "I’m scared." 

She could tell that her confession startled him, as his face softened, and he moved a step closer. "Go on, now,” he encouraged softly. 

Slowly, she pushed the door open, not all the way, but just enough to feel the stillness in the room.  His hand covered hers as she pushed the door the rest of the way, her gasp echoing in the quiet.  Granny, Leroy, Doc and someone whose feet were only showing from behind the counter were slumped in various poses throughout the room.  "Are they all dead?“  she asked in a hushed voice. 

WHook lifted his brow. "I don’t think so,” he placed his ear close to Leroy’s face, “this one’s breathing, but,” he wrinkled his nose, “he smells like bacon." 

Hope giggled, "That’s Leroy.  Not dead, so a sleeping curse?  Really?  But all of these people…again?  I thought once you’d been under…”  Panicked eyes lifted to his. “My parents!" 

Without any hesitation, she took off out the door, knowing he would follow.  They ran through the main part of town, onto the street where she had grown up, her childhood memories bombarding her the closer she got to the large, blue Victorian home.  She crashed through the gate leaving it swinging behind her, up the stairs and with a cry wrenched open the front door. "Mom, Dad,” she yelled, “I’m home." 

~~~ouat~~~ 

Across the way, in the central part of town, the clock’s hands that had stopped moving when Hope was taken from Storybrooke started turning once again.  The time was 8:16. 

~~~ouat~~~ 

Hope froze just inside the door, her hand immediately covering her mouth, willing the sobs to stay inside.  Her parents were sitting close together on the settee, her mother’s head on her father’s shoulder, appearing peacefully asleep, as if they had not a care in the world. "Daddy,” the agonized cry was torn from deep inside her tortured soul as she ran across the room, the tears streaming down her face.   

Hope glanced at WHook who was following slowly behind, looking around as if expecting someone to jump out at them, his eyes cataloging everything.  "What do I do?“ Her panicked voice caught his attention, "How do we wake them?” Since arriving at her father’s side, she hadn’t stopped touching him, assuring herself that he was indeed alive, but when his skin felt warm to the touch, she relaxed, just a little. 

WHook touched the top of her head softly. “You know the secret as well as I, love.  Go ahead, give it a try." 

"But,” she looked back and forth between her parents, “which one first and what if…” She turned her tear stained face up toward him. “What if it doesn’t work because they don’t know me?" 

"Hope,” WHook knelt down beside her, “they’ve known you since you came to be." 

"Really?” She stroked her father’s heavier than normal beard and her mother’s smooth cheek. 

“Aye.  Go ahead." 

Hesitantly, Hope leaned over and kissed first her mother’s cheek and then her father’s.  As soon as her lips touched skin, she felt a powerful rush of love burst through her and around the room.   

"Bloody hell,” her father exclaimed his eyes meeting hers before going to WHook’s.   

“Killian!” her mother cried, pushing up from the sofa to run to the crib nearby. “Killian, where’s Hope?" 

"I’m here, Mom." 

Emma’s gaze swung wildly around the room, coming to rest on Hope, a look of confusion crossing her face.   

Killian pulled Emma close. "It seems we’ve slept through an important story, Swan.  Care to enlighten us?” His eyes glanced back and forth between Hope and WHook. 

Hope worried her bottom lip, trying to read her parents’ minds, wondering what they must be thinking, but not really sure where to start. She sent a silent plea to Hook, hoping he would have an idea of what to say…of how to explain.   

With a subtle nod, WHook sent her father a cocky grin. “She looks just like mother, doesn’t she?" 

Her father studied her, a soft smile playing across his mouth. "Aye, that she does." 

"Doesn’t act like mother, though, has a bloody mind of her own." 

Killian’s smile grew bigger. "I wonder where she got that.” He sent his wife a side-eyed smile, “But get to the point, will you?" 

WHook took a breath, "Perhaps you’d like to gather the family, as it’s one hell of a story." 

Emma didn’t wait for any other information, but reached for her phone and quickly dialed. "Mom, gather everyone and meet us at Granny’s.  Visitors have arrived.

~In Chapter 2, you learn how it all begins and will get your first look at life in Hyperion Heights.  

[glitteringconstellations]

So since you love having so many projects going on, may I add one more to the table? For the Bad Things Happen Bingo, "fake kill scare" and for characters Hunk and Lance (however they fall is up to you)? ♥ Gracias, amiga!

My Bingo Card | Join @badthingshappenbingo and Get Your Bingo Card Here! | Buy me a coffee?

They killed Lance. They murdered him.

And they made Hunk watch.

He could do nothing but weep and beg and scream until his throat ached, forced to kneel in mud at the edge of the clearing. They already made clear how it was they planned to carry out their task; the march through the dark, misted woods led them down a corridor of corpses, all swaying from the crooked boughs in varying states of decay.

Two of their captors—mercenaries for the Galra, and just as ruthless—seized Lance by the crook of either elbow and hoisted him atop two stacks of dented, bullet-pocked cans. Lance kept a strained smile as the noose was fit around his neck, the loose end tossed over a tree and held by two more men.

“Don’t be scared, Hunk,” Lance said. “We’re defenders of the universe, right? We’ve walked through the proverbial valley and we fear no evil, because we’re freaking Paladins of Voltron. We’ve been through hell and back again.” His voice was high and reedy, and Hunk suspected he only kept talking to distract himself from the fact that holy shit he was about to die.

The torches held by two of the mercenaries cast long shadows on his face, and even from this distance Hunk could see the frightened tears shining in Lance’s eyes. He seemed so much smaller and frailer, especially stripped down to nothing but his flightsuit.

“Please don’t do this,” Hunk pled, turning to the leader instead of watching Lance’s eyes dance around, unsure of who or what to focus on. He struggled against his bindings, shoulders aching and wrists rubbed raw against the steel cuffs. “D-don’t. Please.”

The leader grinned at him, all fangs and a twisted, perverted pleasure in their terror. In lieu of deigning Hunk’s plea with a reply, he whistled to his men at the rope. They whistled back and pulled it taut. Lance straightened with a gasp as they yanked with such force it forced him to his tiptoes.

“Don’t!” Hunk screamed again. “D-don’t do it! Whatever you want from me, I’ll do it. I’ll t-tell you, just don’t hurt him, please!”

“How cute,” the leader sneered, and kicked out the stack from under Lance’s left foot. Lance cried out, and Hunk saw his arms jerk against his cuffs behind him, like he wanted to throw them out to balance himself. He teetered dangerously on his one tenuous remaining foothold.

“NO!” Hunk wept. “No, no, nononononononono—” Bile threatened to rise up and Hunk willed it down, if only to continue to plead their case, to appeal to whatever shred of mercy these monsters had.

“Look away, Hunk,” Lance rasped out. And oh, how Hunk wanted to. Hunk wanted to shut his eyes, wanted to shut his ears and if force of will alone could teleport them to safety, they’d both be back in the Castle slurping on milkshakes.

But he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t look away. He couldn’t leave Lance to die looking into the eyes of his killers.

“Don’t watch,” said Lance again, and again when Hunk didn’t comply. “Hunk, don’t watch—”

Two things happened, then:

The leader raised a clawed hand, that predatory grin never once leaving his face. He stepped forward until he was nearly flush against Lance’s chest, blocking his gaze from Hunk’s line of sight.

The next noises that came out of Lance’s mouth scarcely sounded human, as the leader simultaneously kicked out the last stack of cans and plunged his claws into Lance’s stomach. All the air rushed out of Hunk at once, his pleas and sobs extinguished.

Lance’s agonized, gasping screams rent the air as he was simultaneously strangled and impaled. He kicked and twisted fruitlessly, fighting for purchase, fighting for air. Blood splattered to the forest floor when the leader ripped his claw out with a sickening squelch, entrails and muscle clenched tightly in his fist. He plunged it in again, this time into Lance’s chest, and though it didn’t seem possible, Lance screamed even louder.

This time when the leader brought his claw out, Lance’s heart came with it.

Lance went abruptly silent, though feeble, choked gurgles still escaped him. His body swung, his innards spilling out of the cavernous wound in his gut, and his legs still spasmed. Blood dripped down in rivulets, the droplets ringing out against the otherwise stillness of the woods as they splattered into the pool below.

Hunk gasped for air like he was being strangled himself, tears streaming from wide, disbelieving eyes. Pitiful whimpers escaped him as his jaw shuddered and trembled. Lance’s lifeless eyes bore into him as he swayed, and yet Hunk could not look away.

Turning, the leader made his way over to where his men still forced Hunk to kneel, fangs glinting in the firelight. He squatted down before Hunk and held the heart up in front of his face. He smirked.

Then he turned his hand over and let it fall from his fingers. It rolled in the dirt until it came to a stop, resting against Hunk’s knee. It was still warm.

Hunk lost it.

He howled in heartbroken sorrow. There was no other way of describing it. He wailed and wept and howled until he gagged, and then he was forcefully expelling the contents of his stomach down his front. If it weren’t for the hands on either shoulder holding him upright, he’d have collapsed in a heaving fit.

Around him, the men cackled and jeered. “Don’t watch, Hunk!” one mocked, voice pitched up in a gross mimicry of Lance’s last words. “Don’t watch!”

“Hunk!” cackled another. “Hunk! Hunk!”

Hands came up on either side of his face and gripped him firmly. Hunk physically recoiled, choking on spittle and air. “D-Don’t!” He tried to force his way back, but met resistance in the form of an unmovable mercenary behind him. Finally, he clenched his eyes shut.

The image of Lance’s eviscerated corpse was burned behind his eyelids.

“Hunk!” the voices still mocked.

The hands slapped his cheeks. He thrashed against the hands, even as calloused fingertips pressed against his jaw.

“S-stop,” he whispered.

“Hunk!”

Someone doused him with frigid water, and Hunk’s eyes flew open on a gasp.

Gone was the clearing, illuminated by moonlight and cast into shadow by torchlight and stained with Lance’s blood. Gone were the mercenaries and their mocking jeers. Gone was Lance’s lifeless body, hanging limp from a tree.

Instead, a dim cyan glow cast the room into a soft, almost ethereal light. Dimly, Hunk recognized he was still screaming, though the ragged cries were dwindling off into a staccato of hiccups and sobs.

Hunk whimpered again, blinking his bleary eyes until the world came into focus. It was sideways; somewhere in the chaos, he must have collapsed, because he wasn’t kneeling any longer. Above him, a pair of glistening blue eyes peered down at him, a brow furrowed in deep concern. Hunk realized the hands on his face belonged to this blue-eyed person, and without thinking, he stopped struggling.

“Hey, he’s coming round!” the person called over their shoulder. The smacking—not smacking, he realized, just patting—stopped, giving way to thumbs stroking his cheeks. “Hunk, buddy, come back to me. That’s it. You’re safe now, you’re in the Castle.”

Hunk’s next breath shuddered past his lips.

Lance.

Trembling—unbound—hands reached up and found Lance’s face, warm and damp but alive beneath his touch. Lance stilled. Hunk sobbed again, clutching Lance’s face harder.

“You’re alive,” Hunk rasped. “You—th-they got us, Lance, h-how—“

“Not me, Hunk,” Lance murmured, concern morphing slightly into confusion. He never stopped stroking Hunk’s cheek. “Just you. We had to go bust you out. Wasn’t going to leave you in the Galra’s hands a second longer.”

“Not Galra.” No, they weren’t Galra. Hunk wouldn’t be forgetting that any time soon—not the fangs, not the claws, none of it. “Not Galra. They… they ki—” He choked, tasting salt. He couldn’t bring himself to say it.

“Whatever it was they gave him, it’s likely it was highly hallucinogenic,” a voice chimed in from somewhere behind Lance. Lance’s face screwed up in sorrow, his hands stilling on Hunk’s face.

“They didn’t kill me, Hunk,” Lance finally said. Hunk slid his hands down from Lance’s face to his throat, pushed the high collar of the flightsuit down. There were no bruises there, no crushed windpipe. His fingers traced down the front of Lance’s flightsuit until he got to Lance’s chest, then pressed his palms flat against it.

Solid, and whole.

“You’re okay,” Hunk breathed. More tears slipped down his cheeks, and Lance thumbed those away, too.

“I’m more than okay,” Lance confirmed. “I’m right here.” He was there, his heartbeat steady beneath Hunk’s hands. He was whole, and he was real, and he was alive.

He was alive.

Hunk’s fingers curled into Lance’s flightsuit and he wept.

[vincent-frankenstein]

Bloodbond - Chapter Eleven

Part eleven of my entry for @ts-storytime!!

Chapter Summary: The rebels set oout to rescue King Odin and the Royal Mage — unaware that the demon queen is waiting for them.

pairings: prinxiety

Warnings: Big Fight Scene™, lots of arguing, a Bad Dad™ and an Even Worse Mom™, blood

Read on A03

{ 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 }

art by @pattykrabbies {here} and @vdkstar {here}!!!

(cover by @vdkstar <3)

As it turned out, morning in the demon realm was no less terrifying than night. The sky appeared as blood, bright freshly-spilled crimson splattered between shadowy black clouds, and terrible heat floated through the air, filling Roman’s stomach with dread.

They’d set out well before dawn, and Roman had watched through a ceiling of dead tree branches as the rusty-red of the night sky had faded into vivid scarlet. The humid wind brought half-life to the skeleton-hand trees around them, their awful crackling filling the air around them.

Sleep and Virgil had taken the lead, talking in hushed voices, and Joan and Talyn brought up the rear, their animated discussion rising above the snapping of the bony branches. And Roman held up the middle, alone, silent, caught in his own thoughts as they approached the castle. He did his best to hold Virgil’s comforting words close, a beacon to keep the dark fear at bay, but… even he had to admit he was struggling.

He crossed his arms tightly, striding along with all the confidence he knew he didn’t have. They were nearly to the castle, nearly to his father; he couldn’t afford to be scared, couldn’t afford even a moment’s hesitation. The sky above, smeared with blood, brought memories of old nightmares creeping into his thoughts and sent freezing-cold fear shooting through his lungs.

“You will never make me proud.”

He tensed, gritting his teeth. The nightmare flashed through his mind, like a broken record on endless repeat — a hooded prisoner bound in chains, a silver dagger, a pair of pleading purple eyes and a splash of sickening scarlet — and he winced, digging his fingernails into his forearm to distract himself from his thoughts.

His father was trapped somewhere in that castle, and of course they had to save him, but… would it even make a difference? The moment Odin learned that they were working with demons, even in order to save his life, he’d snap. Roman and Joan would be banished for sure, left for dead out in the wilderness surrounding Gaepried.

Roman stared ahead, his eyes caught on Virgil, and panic buzzed within him. What would happen to Virgil? Would he be banished too, trapped in the demon realm once more? Or would Roman’s nightmare come to life?

This was his fault. This was his fault. He should have listened to Logan, he never should have cast that spell, he put innocent people in danger and it’s his fault, all his fault —

“We’re here.”

Sleep’s voice broke him out of his spiral of thoughts and he jumped, his eyes growing wide at the castle before them. Dread weighed heavily on the group, and Roman battled to breathe normally against the tidal wave of fear washing over him. Talyn had explained the castle’s magic the night before; Queen Aliah had enchanted it to fill all who approached with enough terror to kill them, so long as they gave into it.

As though he’d ever give into his fear. He steeled himself, forcing his breathing to steady, that familiar mantra running through his mind. Princes don’t get scared. Princes don’t get scared.

“We have to move quickly,” Virgil said, voice low. “We get in, we grab the humans, we get out. If the Royal Asshole finds us, it’s all over.” He swept his gaze over their small team, raising an eyebrow. “And if any of you die, I’ll kill you. Got it?”

“Got it,” Talyn and Joan repeated in unison, and Roman found himself smiling despite himself. For all Joan had berated him for befriending a demon, they’d certainly warmed up to Talyn pretty quickly. He’d have to tease them about it later.

If there was a later.

He shook his head forcefully, the smile slipping from his face. No. He couldn’t afford to think like that. There would be a later — he’d make sure of it.

“You ready, princey?” Suddenly Virgil was standing before him, shifting his wings to prepare to fly. This is it, Roman thought as he nodded, his gaze caught on their target, a window high above. He ran the plan through his head again and again as Virgil wrapped his arms around Roman’s torso.

With a sound like a whip cracking through the air, Virgil thrust his wings down and sent them shooting skywards. Roman couldn’t help the jolt of excitement as the ground vanished from beneath his feet, wind rushing through his hair as they rose higher and higher.

They landed on the windowsill and went tumbling in together, landing in a heap on the cold stone floor. Roman let out a breathless sigh as he got to his feet, dizzyingly lightheaded. Talyn and Joan landed a moment later and stumbled away from each other, and finally, Sleep arrived, his brown-leather wings shining red in the crimson light.

No one spoke. Sleep took the lead, the map clutched tightly in his clawed hands, and they marched down the stairs like soldiers marching into battle, the world around them growing colder and darker with every step. The castle was deathly silent and chillingly empty, not a guard in sight as they made their way down to the dungeons. The silence was deafening, maddening, and yet they could only hope that it wouldn’t be broken, that it would persist long enough to save King Odin and the Royal Mage and get out.

In all his adventures, Roman had never seen a room as terrible as the demon queen’s dungeons, and his stomach turned simply to look at it. It was small and cramped, hidden deep below the ground, and though darkness veiled the true hideous extent of the room, Roman could still make out the splatters of blood and the rusted chains hanging from the walls. The room seemed to echo with a lengthy past of torture, grating on Roman’s ears. The air hung heavy with death.

“Who’s there?” a sudden voice said, making them all jump. “Show yourselves immediately!”

Roman knew that voice. He broke away from the group in an instant, relief and fear crashing down on him all at once. “Father?” he asked, snapping his fingers to light a flame in his palm.

“Roman?” The fire illuminated his father, the bruises littered across his face and his bare arms, and Roman breathed a heavy sigh of relief. He was injured, but he was alive. “Roman, what are you — demons.”

With a savage snarl, King Odin grabbed Roman’s shoulder and yanked him away from his team, sending him tumbling backward, his back slamming painfully into the wall behind them. “Stay behind me,” he ordered, his voice a furiously cruel growl. “I’ll take them down.”

“No!” Roman cried, as Joan pushed their way through the group and faced down King Odin’s wrath. His father blinked in shock.

“No,” Roman said again, quieter this time. He got back to his feet and stood before his father, his chin raised and his eyes flashing with defiance. King Odin looked from Joan to Roman, standing as a shield before the three demons; and though Roman had feared his father’s reaction since the moment he’d met Virgil, now he felt only anger as his father’s face hardened, only a wall of defiance that he wouldn’t let crumble.

“Wh — what is this?” King Odin yelled. “Are you working with them?”

“You’re wrong about them.” Roman kept his voice even, though anger snapped within, a fire that refused to die down. He shared a moment’s look with Virgil and knew he was right. “They’re not all bad.”

“Have I taught you nothing?” his father bellowed, his voice echoing around the room. “I don’t know what has caused this — this betrayal, but to bring one of my most powerful allies into it too?” He swept his glare across Joan. “I will deal with you both later. Stand. Aside.”

“With all due respect, your majesty,” Joan began, and Roman knew at that moment that he had been a terrible influence, because they were sassing the king, “they are the ones who got us here to rescue you. Roman’s right, they’re —”

Footsteps. Roman froze at the sound, his eyes growing wide, and Joan’s sentence cut off with a strangled gasp. Soft, quiet footsteps, growing louder with every moment and sealing their fate.

“We have to get out of here,” Virgil hissed. “I don’t care what the hell you think of us, human, if we don’t all leave right now, we’ll die.” He met King Odin’s glare, eyes narrowed, and then broke away to glance around the dungeon. “Where’s the other human?”

Freezing cold fear shot through Roman’s lungs as he realized: the Royal Mage was nowhere in sight. The footsteps were growing closer and there were no other exits, no ways to escape. He summoned his sword without a second thought, his fingers tightening around the hilt.

“Where is Thomas?” Joan asked, their voice low.

“We have to go,” Virgil whispered, glancing at the staircase. “Now.”

“Fuck that! I’m not leaving without him!” Joan’s eyes flashed green as their magic flared. “I didn’t come all this way to leave him behind!”

“Joan, we have to —

“Well, well, well…”

The sudden voice made them all jump, and Roman realized with a crushing wave of fear that they were too late, that they were trapped.

“The human is right,” Queen Aliah of the demons said, regarding them all with a cruel glint in her eyes. “Why leave now, when you’re so close to what you came for?”

In a flash of light, a figure appeared in her arms, unconscious and limp, the strands of purple-brown hair hanging in his face matted with blood. Joan cried out and darted forward and Roman grabbed them and yanked them back, holding his sword aloft towards the demon queen.

“Give him back. Now,” he commanded. “He does not belong to you.”

“Ooh, I’m so scared.” Amused sarcasm flashed through the queen’s eyes, her dark expression almost… familiar. “Honestly, I’m surprised at all of you. You really didn’t realize this was a trap? You all risked your lives for human scum like them?”

Joan wrenched out of Roman’s grip and thrust their hands forward, their magic exploding in a blinding blast of glowing runes. Roman stumbled backward from the sheer force of the spell; but Queen Aliah barely flinched, holding up a clawed hand and stopping the spell in its tracks.

“Cute,” she said, and with a wave of her hand the spell was reversed, barrelling powerfully back towards them. Roman backpedaled, raising his hands to summon a shield even though he knew there wasn’t enough time, knew he couldn’t save them all. The sickly green light filled his vision and he squeezed his eyes shut, bracing himself —

“No!”

A blast of purple overtook the green and the spell slammed into a massive magical shield, held up by a figure with his arms spread wide. The spell shattered the moment it hit and Virgil stumbled and fell to his knees, his shield flickering away. Roman could feel the strain on Virgil’s magic through the Bloodbond, and yet he still didn’t believe what he had just seen. A shield that size, taking on a spell that powerful… it shouldn’t have been possible. Unless…

“You’re not touching them,” he said between panting breaths, his voice echoing around the room, dark and double-layered. He got back to his feet and the leftover magic from the shield swirled around him, darting towards the queen in the blink of an eye.

In her haste to block them, Aliah lost her grip on the Royal Mage, and Joan darted forward to grab him without a moment’s hesitation. Roman’s fire joined Virgil’s volley of bullets and the queen lifted a shield with a cry of rage, her magic a dark, poisonous black.

For a moment, Roman’s heart soared with his magic, standing tall beside Virgil as the two launched their attack, and for a moment, it almost seemed as though the queen was faltering, her shield wavering beneath the volley of magic. For a moment, it seemed as though they could win.

But the moment passed and the queen shoved her shield forward with a cry of “enough!” A wave of power pulsed out from where she stood and their magic vanished as they were sent flying backward, slamming into the wall behind them.

Roman’s vision swam with dark spots as he collapsed to the ground. He could hear Joan groaning to his right, fighting unconsciousness, and fought against the pain flooding his body, trying desperately to stand.

Only one had been left standing. His shield flickered weakly as he trembled where he stood, his eyes narrowed against the blast. Roman grit his teeth and forced the pain from his body, pushing himself up.

“Vir — Virgil.” His friends were downed, his father lying unconscious against the wall; but he’d be damned if he let himself fall too. His heart pounded in his chest as he gathered his magic.

“Virgil…”

Roman froze, realizing his mistake far too late as the queen whispered the demon’s true name, tilting her head to the side as she tested its lilt on her tongue. She stepped forward, her eyebrows furrowing as she studied Virgil, who glared back defiantly, his eyes flaring with magic.

“And to think I was going to kill you,” she said. “To think I thought you were just a tool to bring them to me.” She gestured at King Odin and the unconscious rebel demons. “Virgil…”

“Get away from him. Now.” Roman strode forward and shoved his sword up against her throat, pushing Virgil behind him. A smirk pulled at the corners of the queen’s lips, and the expression in her eyes seemed too familiar. Too much like…

No. No. He pressed the tip of his blade into her neck, drawing blood so dark it looked like oil. The black sheen of her hair, the curl of her lips, even the freckles across the bridge of her nose; each was a clue leading to a horrifying conclusion, one Roman couldn’t afford to dwell on.

“I am prince Roman of Gaepried,” he said, injecting as much confidence, as much power as he could into his voice. “You hold no power over me. You will let my friends and I leave, or I will kill you.”

“Roman…” Virgil’s voice behind him was a stark reminder of what he was fighting for, what he’d promised to protect, and he lifted his chin and swelled his chest, his sword never wavering. The queen may have been powerful, but he was prince Roman, damnit, and he wasn’t going to lose.

“How very wrong you are.” The queen was unfazed by the sword held at her throat, the beads of jet-black blood dripping down her neck. Roman barely had time to react before she hissed a foreign incantation and a magic circle opened at his feet, glowing with searing hot runes. He cried out as his sword vanished, as his magic was drained away in the blink of an eye, falling to his knees.

It was torture — his magic ripped from him, that internal fire dying out in an instant, bringing him to the very brink of death. He could just barely hear Virgil cry his name through the blood rushing in his ears, through the scream of the spell, and pain exploded across his torso as the queen kicked him aside before Virgil could get to him.

His vision swam. He watched through a layer of static as the queen stepped towards Virgil, as Virgil clutched his own stomach and cursed as his magic spluttered and died before he could attack, as the Bloodbond sealed their fate as quickly as it had sealed them together.

“Get away!” Virgil growled savagely, standing as tall as he could through the mirrored pain in his stomach. But the queen ignored him and continued forward, her head tilted gently to one side as she regarded him; and Roman only wished he could stand and slice that horrible smile right off her face, that he could prevent the attack he knew was coming.

But the queen didn’t attack. Virgil jerked backward as she reached out, as though to stroke him, her expression unreadable. “Don’t touch me!” Virgil yelled. “You — you monster!”

“Monster?” the queen echoed. She almost looked amused. She set her finger beneath Virgil’s chin and lifted his head, studying him. “No. No, I’m not a monster.”

Virgil stiffened under her touch, his face going pale as their eyes met, and Roman could see through the static muffling his thoughts that Virgil knew, too, that he’d come to the same horrible conclusion that Roman had, that any moment now, his world would be shattered.

The queen smiled.

“I’m your mother.”

[theonewiththefanfics]

A Pirate’s Soul (part 2)

Part 1

Pairing: Will Turner x Avenger!Reader

Warnings: swearing

Genre: fluff

Word count: 2987

Y/N slowly felt her eyes flutter open. It was dark, but not full on. Not like Bucky’s room where he had to cover up the giant windows because he had trouble sleeping. More like her own. Bits and pieces of the never-resting New-York city filtering inside the room, beige walls cast in an orange glow. But of course, she wasn’t in New York anymore.    With a groan, Y/N propped herself up on her elbows, but a gentle palm pushed her back on the hard surface that turned out to be what looked like a sailor’s cot.    “Easy,” it was the girl- Elizabeth. “How are you feeling?”    “Like a red-hot poker was showed up through my ass and my brain, scrambling it like an egg.”    The other woman snorted. “Don’t you have a way with words.”    Y/N pressed a palm against a throbbing temple. “So I’ve been told.” She looked around noting that the light was coming from above, meaning the sun was still above the ground. “How long was I out?”    “A couple of hours. Cleaned as many wounds as I could, but couldn’t change your clothes. Couldn’t find how to… open it.” Her brown eyes roamed over Y/N’s tactical suit as if a hidden hook would suddenly appear and she’d drop naked then and there.    “Would be surprised if you did.” When were zippers invented? 1890’s something? Y/N honestly didn’t know what to do. Will her being here change the outcome of the history? Or was it one of those timelines when nothing mattered what she’d do because everything had already happened before? In all honesty, Y/N couldn’t give two shits about it because of a headache she sported right now. 

   Her palm clasped around where her neckline was and she pulled back a piece of cloth, the velcro detaching itself as she unclasped a smaller piece that held a large string attached to the zipper on her back. It made it easier for her to get dressed on her own, as well as she didn’t have to worry about flashing someone in the middle of a battle.    Elizabeth’s cheeks heated up and when Y/N saw how flustered she got, even though there wasn’t that big of a difference between one woman’s body and another, the Avenger still offered her the chance to leave. “But I’m not naked underneath that and I would prefer if you stayed. This thing can be a bitch to take off.” And it was. Any time after a mission she asked either Bucky or Nat or hell, even Sam to help her get rid of it. Bucky being her best friend, they didn’t have any reservations before one another. Even then, when Bucky had forcefully pulled off the last leg of her suit, the material still just as snug and light, courtesy of Stark, Y/N was left in a bulletproof sports bra, a bulletproof tank top and booty shorts.    “It’s very tight,” Elizabeth remarked as she flexed every muscle in her arms, abdomen and legs to get the cloth off of Y/N.    “Meant to protect you while in battle. Nimble as a second skin so you don’t feel it while fighting, though I might have to ask Stark for some improvements in the removal section.” Y/N finally took a breath as she felt the ankles loosen and saw Elizabeth holding the shredded material. Looking down there were no visible injuries on her stomach, but her legs, shoulders and arms sported nasty cuts as well as deep gashes from claws.    “What.. umm.. what do you want me to do with this?” the girl looked over at the Y/H/C beauty. Y/N’s heart clenched. She really had loved the suit. It had been a gift from Nat on her birthday, but the state of it, how it looked now- it’d be completely useless. There was no point in stitching it together, thread by thread.    “Burn it. Throw it out. It doesn’t matter. It’s unusable now.”    “A-Are you sure?”    “Yeah,” Y/N let out a deep sight, “it’s pointless.”    Elizabeth’s hands slid over the material, marvelling at how beautiful and practical it was. Or used to be in Y/N’s opinion. But unbeknownst to her, she stashed it in a chest in a deep corner.    Y/N stood there in what basically was her underwear. She pulled the black tank top off, leaving her in just the sports bra, so she could check what damage had been done to the dark material. Thankfully not much. Some slashes, but comparing it to the tactical suit, it was still wearable. Pulling it back on, her Y/E/C eyes saw Elizabeth reemerge from the dark holding a large white shirt, some sand coloured pants, black knee-high boots and what looked like a corset.    “These are probably way too big for you, but the belt should keep it in place, you can lace it up in the back to tighten it,” the girl laid the materials down on the cot. “And the boots… well, you should just try pulling them on and well see about the size.”    Y/N fingered the cotton tunic. It was a lot softer than she expected, woven with care and love. Pulling it overhead, there was a deep V-neck gash, almost past her breasts, and it really was way too big for her frame, so she pushed her legs through the pant holes and tucked the shirt in. Elizabeth handed a smaller belt to pull it through the belt holes, but as the girl had predicted, the clothes were still too large for her frame. She stepped through the corset-like thing and pulled it over her slacks and the shirt.    Elizabeth went to work, lacing the black ribbon up, but not so tightly that Y/N couldn’t breathe and would pass out from the lack of oxygen. While the other woman was doing that the Avenger was idly playing with the two strings of her shirt, wrapping and unwrapping it around her finger.    “Okay, you’re all done. Now just the boots.”    Y/N had completely forgotten that the combat suit had connected footwear, so she was standing there only in her socks. The boots looked around her size, so here was hoping for nothing.    And it would look like they had struck gold. Y/N was surprised how comfortable they actually were, but she rolled down the bit that went past her knee, hating how it flapped against her thigh.    “I… umm..,” Elizabeth stepped forward holding six razor-sharp knives in her hand as well as Y/N’s own modified pistol, “I guess I have to give these back to you, though I have no idea what kind of holsters I can give to you…”    Her knife and gun belts had been physically attached to the suit, rather than pulling them on, they were already a part of the outfit, so there would be no use for her to cut them off as they wouldn’t fit with what Y/N was wearing now.    She flipped two of her knives in the air and crisscrossed them behind the belt on her back, putting two by her sides and then two in the front, the thin handles disappearing being the black material, not even making an indent. If you didn’t know that Y/N possessed them, you’d never know how armed she actually was. And the bulletproof top would protect her from any cuts that may result. For the gun though, that would be a problem.    “Umm… hmm… Give me the most basic holster you have and we'll see what we can do.    The one Elizabeth provided was for a muzzleloader. In Y/N’s time, they were antiques and relics. Here they were actual weapons. The girl looked at it from all sides and producing one of the knives she sliced the end off making it more like a cylinder rather than a cone.    Putting on the safety she gently slid the gun to check if the tightness of the leather would be enough and it was. The gun snugly fit into the holster as if it was made for it. Y/N strapped it across her middle, even though she usually preferred it to be around her thighs or ankles, this one wouldn’t fit.    Elizabeth’s eyes roamed over Y/N as if in astonishment and in awe. She really looked like she belonged there. “I think you’re ready.”    “For what?”    “To meet everyone. I’m assuming you really aren’t from somewhere nearby.”    Y/N snorted at that. “If only you had any idea.”    “So I’m assuming you’re going to be spending quite a lot of time here, seeing as we’re only in the middle of our journey and the closest port is at least two to three weeks away. Depending on what kind of trouble Jack gets into.”    “Jack? Who’s Jack?”    “Nothing but trouble,” she replied over her shoulder as she lead Y/N up the wooden stairs and right onto the deck.    The ship was full of life, men running around and pulling ropes to let something loose or tighten things up. Of course, as expected when Y/N stepped onto the floor everything quieted down and stopped moving, but a man’s gruff voice pulled them out of the trance.    “Back to work, ya filthy rats!” It was dreadlocks who bellowed from the steering deck.    “I would presume that is Jack,” Y/N leaned into Elizabeth, but the other woman didn’t get a chance to answer.    “You would be presuming correctly. Captain Jack Sparrow,” he said coming down the steps and taking one of Y/N’s palms to press a kiss on it, making the girl scrunch up her face in confusion. “Welcome aboard the Black Pearl- fastest ship in the Caribbean sea.”    “Thanks… I guess…”    “So darling,” he threw an arm around Y/N’s shoulders leading her up the deck, “why don’t you tell me who you are, where are you from and how in the bloody hell did you suddenly appear on my ship?”    He was being quite cheeky about things so Y/N decided to play along. “A girl’s gotta have some secrets, otherwise where would be the fun?”    “You,” he pointed a finger at her, a bright red ruby sitting on it. “I like you.”    Y/N mirrored the smirk that was plastered on his face. “So, where exactly in the Caribbean sea are we? As much as I’ve enjoyed your hospitality I think I need to get back home.”    “And where would home be for you, love?”    “New York.”    Y/N looked over at the endless horizon. Oh, how far away she was from home. And it would seem like Jack could read minds, echoing her thought.    There was almost an understanding look in his eyes. “You’ve travelled a long way from there, haven't you?”    “Very,” Y/N let out a deep sight, resting her arms on the railing. “Elizabeth told me that the closest port is a two, three-week journey. Which port exactly are we talking about?”    “Tortuga,” a wicked smile made its way onto Jack’s face. “Best place on earth for a pirate.”    Y/N could only chuckle, not even remotely surprised that they were pirates. Their clothing gave it away and the giant black flag with a skull and two crossed swords was a dead giveaway.    The girl relished in the salty breeze of the sea. She’d always wanted to visit exotic places, but her job had made it quite difficult to get even a day off. And then there was Bucky. Her best friend in the whole world. He was just getting accustomed to living in the tower and apart from Steve, he clung to the girl like a koala. Not that Y/N minded. She’d gotten attached to the ex-assassin too and if there was any possible way she could help with his recovery she’d drop everything in a heartbeat.    “Doll, you need to take a day off, treat yourself. I hate that you can’t do anything worthwhile because you’re stuck here with me,” he’d said to the girl after an intense workout session.    “Buck,” she had grasped his unshaven chin between her fingers, “you can’t get rid of me. Me staying here is my and only my choice. And if it means having to sit through therapy with you or have a few sleepless nights, then that is it. As long as you’re getting better, it’s all that matters to me and if I have any way of helping you through it, I will. So don’t start with this bullshit, okay?”    He’d only smiled and kissed the girl on the cheek, pulling her in for a tight hug. “I love you, you know that?”    “Might have said it a few times.”    What wouldn’t the girl give just to feel safe between her friend's arms, instead of being stuck in the past on a pirate ship.    Her Y/E/C eyes caught movement to her left and ascending the stairs was the man with the longish hair. The one with the chocolate eyes and sharp cheekbones. Will.    “Hello.” His voice was quiet. Like a warm summer breeze.    “Hello.” Y/N replied a small smile playing on her lips as she turned fully to face the man.    “I’m Will Turner.”    “Y/N Y/L/N.”    “That’s a very beautiful name.”    Y/N laughed, shaking her head, the Y/H/C floating around in the breeze. “It’s just a name.”    “A very beautiful one at that.”    Of course, these were the manners men had in this time period. Back home whenever a guy said something like that or gave a kiss on the top of a girl’s hand, that was more a message of ‘I wanna get in your pants tonight and I’ll pretend not to be an asshole for like two minutes, tell you how pretty your name is and how it perfectly fits you, before I ask you to drop your panties and go for a fuck’. But here, now, it’s just how people were, and Y/N would be lying if she said she didn’t appreciate that. The only two people who even remotely said something like that and didn’t mean it in an ‘I wanna fuck you’ kind of way was Steve and Bucky. Even then both of them were from the 40s.    “Well thank you,” she smiled looking at Will. “Got it for my birthday.” She couldn’t help herself. Such an opportunity to say that stupid and cheesy joke, she couldn’t just let it pass.    He shook his head as is saying ‘I cannot believe how dumb that was’ before coming to stand next to the girl.    “Are you alright?”    That was a stupid question, but she didn’t say anything. “What do you mean?”    “Well after that… thing you put in the water, your nose was bleeding quite heavily and you did pass out.”    Her headache had subsided a few minutes after hitting the deck, fresh air filling her lungs, now just a dull pulsating feeling reminded her of the situation she was in only a few hours ago.    “Yeah, I am. Thank you for caching me and not letting me split my head open.”    He smiled at her, taking her right hand in his and rubbing over her knuckles. The air got caught in Y/N's throat. How can such a small gesture take away her breath like that? “Anytime.”    The pair just stood there, looking at one another, eyes roaming over the stranger before them. There was this attraction that neither could explain, but it wasn’t bad. No, not at all.    Their moment was disrupted by the lanky man with a wooden eye, rushing up to Jack.    “Captain! Redcoats!”    Everyone’s heads turned to look where he was pointing over their shoulders. A tiny speck near the horizon, nothing more than that. Jack pulled out a telescope and produced a beautiful array of swears, leaving even Y/N shocked.    “Everyone get your weapons!” he bellowed over the ship, sending the men scattering every which way.    “Didn’t you say that this is the fastest ship in the Caribbean?” Y/N turned to look at the captain. An idea had crossed her mind that she could ask them to let her on their ship, but she immediately dispelled it. They were the government. And anytime Y/N had gotten involved with that it never ended well for her. Most of the times in handcuffs. So she wasn’t going to get shackled in the 18th fucking century. Who knows what they’d do to her. Salem witch trials had happened probably not more than a few decades before, and her powers, that she could feel rumbling under her skin would definitely make her a witch.    “Can you fight?” it was Will asking her, Jack not even bothering to answer her question as he rushed off to somewhere himself.    “Did you not see my grand entrance?”    “I meant are you well enough to fight?” He was handing her a long sword, probably noting only the gun by her side.    Truthfully Y/N probably wasn’t but the adrenaline was already rushing through her veins and the newly unleashed magic wanted to come out and play.    She clasped the handle of the sharp weapon. “I was born to do this.”

Tags (crossed out couldn’t be tagged, sorry loves): @fandamad @josislife @madelonj @serieuxnoir @marvel-fanfiction @lostxsea @dschessikai 

A/N: tell me what you think :) and tomorrow I won’t be posting anything. Probably there will be no updates for the rest of working days. I’m going to see Imagine Dragons tomorrow and then I’ll focus on my assignments :)

P.S. wanna be tagged in future parts or have any requests? drop a message

P.S.S. please don’t repost without credit :)

[emeraldxmonarch]

Amori Aetherium (Pt. 19.2)

 (Hey everyone! Here is part two of the High Lord meeting! I genuinely hope you guys enjoy it! Thank you my darling @voice-addicted for all of your help! Seriously she made this chapter amazing <3 This is a little short but I really wanted to get something out because of these huge delays between chapters. Again, I’m really sorry about the delays but if you guys read the short updates i post, I’m just struggling with a lot of shit all at once so it’s hard to stay on top of everything but I really am trying my best, and hopefully you guys still enjoy the story!  

Anyways...

Enjoy~! 

@acourtofrosesandbooks

-SxW) 

~Previous Chapter~

Amara’s heart pounded in her chest, her blood strumming in her ears. 

She looked up from her burning gaze from the table to hear Kallias speak, “So, care to explain the vague yet alarming reasoning behind this meeting?” he started it off, folding his hands and leaning his elbows on the table. All eyes turned to the High Lord of Autumn.

Amara’s heart pounded in anticipation, as she glanced over at Beron. His eyes were scrunched in ... anger?

Was there something going on that he was already in a bad mood?

Beron crossed his arms, “Autumn has had an influx of magic. Magic that caused unnatural bonds to form. It’s an abhorrence and no doubt it’s the work of someone who used to be under Hybern.”

Everyone’s eyes bore into Beron as he spoke, the mention of Hybern making the air much thicker, but Amara’s heart had stopped dead in her chest for a different reason.

Unnatural bonds.

The work of evil.

She could feel the jolt of anxiety through the bond, a sudden surge that escaped through the thick mental shields.

She couldn’t breathe.

Oh Mother-

She nearly jolted out of her seat when Mor tightly squeezed her hand. A silent reminder to keep breathing.  

Amara silently loosed a tight breath in her chest, as she glanced around the table.

Shock and irritation seemed to be the main emotion around the room, as Beron casted angry looks towards her High Lord and Lady...

She couldn’t help but continue to glance at him.

“What do you mean ‘unnatural bonds’? And what does Hybern have to do with any of this?” Kallias questioned, giving the older male a weary look. 

“Hybern was the reason for our last war. He dipped into evil magics that nearly destroyed us all. Ancient magic that had no business being handled. After being forcefully dragged into the war,” He sent a sneer towards an unflinching Tamlin, “It is only obvious that my Court would be the subject of this abhorrent spell!” 

“No one from Hybern’s legion was left. We all made sure of that.” Rhysand spoke up, trying to throw some logic back into the fray.

“Obviously someone is left, if they can create bonds that defy the very magic that existed even before Prythian!” Beron all but growled, a red sheen lining his face from the rage in his voice. It was obvious that he didn’t expect so many to speak up and fight against his words, and he was growing weary of the banter. 

“These bonds defy what a natural mate is. Bonds that give certain fae advantages to take over,” The last words were a snarl as his eyes glanced towards Rhysand who kept a look of near boredom on his face, but she could feel the fissures of alarm that spiked through the bond.

“Bonds that defy..?” Tamlin watched him for a few seconds before raising an eyebrow, “That’s still vague, Beron. Maybe old age has taken it’s toll”

Beron turned his angry eyes towards Tamlin and snarled out, “Bonds that are formed between mates to another person. You should know what that feels like Tamlin” The atmosphere instantly darkened and Amara could see Feyre tense in her seat at the words.

A claw slid out of Tamlin’s clenched fist and scrapped against the wood of the chair as he glowered at Beron, but it was Helion who spoke up.

“Who in your court has been affected by a three way bond, Beron?” His voice was lazy almost, but his eyes were sharp - nearly too sharp. His sleek muscles tensed and relaxed in an effort to remain calm. Beron had come alone this time, no wife in tow, or any of his nasty children. 

Amara held her breath in fear, as Beron turned his gaze to Helion.

“It seems you know more than you let on Spell Cleaver. It is my son. He had found a mate, yet that magic clung to him and attached him to a Night Court whore”

Amara jolted at that, and she could feel the entire table turn their gazes towards her and the Court. It was Feyre who spoke up,

“Beron. Who, from my court, would willingly go to you for this sob story you’re putting on?” Her voice was firm and Beron practically snarled at her as his eyes flickered to the door.

Some sort of silent message must have passed, because Eris strode into the Day Court library, one elegant fae woman on his arm. Mor stiffened harshly next to her at the sight of the Autumn Court heir.

He held a rope in his left hand that led behind him to...

Amara’s heart stopped dead in her chest.

Deep blonde hair, that glinted almost silver.

A slim figure that stood straight and tall, despite the bruising and tattered clothes on her body. A stubborn air surrounded her as she surveyed the room, before stopping on Amara.

Trembling blue eyes met defiant green.

She couldn’t help the cry that left her lips as she burst forward from her chair.

“Idelisa?!”

                                                           ~

Everyone stared at her with wide eyes, but Amara’s gaze was fixed on the girl before her.

“So. It seems you kno-” Eris began to drawl out, but he was cut off by Idelisa’s excited shriek as she burst forward with her arms reaching for Amara, making the rest of the Night Court jolt up around her. Azriel immediately slides in front of her, shielding her from the girl rushing forward.

All of the High Lords watched in shock and suspicion, as she was wrenched back by the rope that still connected her to Eris, who was giving her a withering glare.

“So it seems like your Night Court whores know each other” Beron practically spat towards Amara and Idelisa, the latter giving him a dark look.

Feyre snarled at him, unable to stop the sound from escaping as she gave a slightly worried glance towards the two girls. Rhysand calmly looked around the table and at Eris and his own mate.

“I’d watch my tone, Beron. You’d think after the last meeting, you would know better than to antagonize my mate,” Rhysand’s voice was calm and collected, yet the undertone of a warning was clear. Even Helion couldn’t bite back a smirk at that.

It was Thesan who spoke up now, “It seems clear that they know each other. But I think it is logical to sit down and discuss this calmly because obviously something much larger than we anticipated is going on.”

There was a light grumble from both Beron and Idelisa, who shot each other dirty looks, as the fae at Eris’s arm glanced around the room in slight disdain. Most of the High Lords took their seats as Amara slowly settled back down, her eyes fixed on her long lost friend. 

Eris yanked Idelisa towards Beron, who tugged back and glared.

“I’m not sitting with you, or the old man.” Her eyes were stubborn as she looked right at Eris.

The fae on his arm sneered at her, “You have no right to address-”

“Shut it, bitch” Idelisa rolled her eyes, and Amara tensed in her seat. 

The woman bristled angrily as fire flared at both Beron’s wrist and Eris’s

“How dare you-?!” She began but Eris struck first, back handing her across the face.

Idelisa cried out as she fell, as both Azriel and Cassian jumped up, Mor cringing as he struck. 

Amara bit back a cry as she sprang out of her seat again, barely feeling Mor’s clammy grip on her arm but it all felt far away.

The noise felt far away, every movement exaggerated.

Instead of Idelisa, she saw herself.

Broken.

Bloody.

Bruised.

Violated in every sense of the word. 

Cowering in chains instead of ropes.

Instead of hand shaped bruises, whip marks lined her skin.

Her back burned. 

Her legs burned. 

Her world was burning. 

Something snapped.

As Idelisa stumbled onto her feet with a loud and vulgar curse, Eris raised his hand.

But instead of striking his supposed mate, he struck the mate of the High Lord and Lady of Night.

Amara didn’t remember moving, but her cheek burned as red flashed across her vision. 

Eris’s eyes widened as he saw Amara stand in front of Idelisa, her cheek burning red, the blue already starting to appear in her pale skin. 

But it was her eyes. 

Her ocean-esque eyes that glared at him. An older anger brimming them as she clenched her fists at her side.

Both Feyre and Rhys could only watch her in shock, their own fury brimming at the burn that marred her skin, but the fiery pain that shot down the bond and tightened their chests made them hesitate.

They had never seen her angry before.

Even the other High Lords watched in shock, Mor pale faced and wide eyed, her arm slightly extended as she reached for Amara.

The words spilled from her lips before she could think twice about them, “You have no gods damned right to beat her like an animal! You High Fae treat us as if we’re your expendable play things to use and dispose of at your will!” Silver lined her eyes as flashes of Aedan danced across her vision. 

“She is not your servant, she is not your whore. And I won’t let you lay another damned hand on her!” Amara glared up at the High Lord’s son, whose expression twisted into anger as he reeled back his hand.

Amara kept her eyes on Eris as she braced herself for impact, but Cassian was faster. 

He grabbed Eris’s wrist with a snarl, and twisted it roughly behind his back. The woman by his side shrieked and stumbled away as Cassian sneered at him.

“Like hell I’m going to let you do that again. I should rip your arm off for the first time.”

Beron snarled and lashed a whip of fire towards Cassian, but a wall of water blocked him, and Feyre stood tall with her head held high, projecting every bit the High Lady she was.

“You Autumn bastards never learn your lesson. I already warned you before. Now I won’t give you that luxury.”

Idelisa stumbled to Amara and gripped the back of her dress, but Amara’s eyes were fixed on Cassian and Eris. Despite Beron snarling and lashing out, the wall of water only curled and protected Cassian as he twisted Eris’s arm harder and harder.

So hard that there was a loud crack. 

The son of Autumn bit back a yell as it was only twisted further.

“Call off your damned dog!” 

“Call yours off first” It was Rhysand who smoothly replied this time as he locked his gaze with Beron. The other High Lords seemed more put off than anything, when Amara spared them a weary glance. 

As if this was expected. 

As if this were normal.

“Rhysand.” It was Kallias this time, no anger in his voice, only slight weariness that showed he was growing impatient as the matter dragged on.

“It’s up to Feyre. Not me” The amusement in his voice was dry.

“Oh yeah dump this on me,” Rhys could practically feel the eye roll she was imagining. 

“Of course. I love you enough to let you have all of the fun.” It was practically a purr.

“Cassian, let him go. We still need to question him.” Her voice was light, almost leisurely as she called out to Cassian, who rolled his eyes, but dropped Eris like a piece of discarded furniture on the ground. 

Eris had enough dignity to pick himself up wordlessly and hold his injured arm. 

Cassian wasted no time in going to Amara, who watched the entire scene wordlessly, her eyes wide and brimming with too many emotions to comprehend at once.

He knew better than to try and grab her to lead her back.

“She can sit by you.. come back to the table..” His voice was quiet and clear, as she slowly nodded and brought Idelisa with her. Mor had already moved one seat down, and they took their seats.

What she did was reckless and stupid.

She put her Court in danger, and even ended up causing a fight.

Yet...

Amara couldn’t bring herself to regret that...

No one deserved to be treated like that.

No one. 

“So who won this round?” Helion smirked, and the High Lord of Winter sighed.

“I owe Viv fifty gold now,” Kallias answered dryly and said Lady grinned smugly and crossed her arms.

Idelisa grinned and gently nudged Amara, and that’s when she noticed that her wrists were still bound.

“Ah... damn..” Amara mumbled and gently began to undo the ropes, and she could feel the stares of every High Lord around her, including her own. 

Idelisa stayed quiet, and Mor kept a slightly suspicious eye on her. 

Amara couldn’t blame her.

Through her worry, she was damn angry too. 

“I think we should start by hearing what really happened,” Rhys spoke up first, breaking the tense silence. 

“Don’t act like you don’t know Rhysand,” Beron snarled out, before directing another dirty look at the Inner Circle.

“Obviously if the High Lord is a whore, the rest of the circle is bound to follow,” At that, he directed his gaze towards Mor and Amara, both of whom tensed up.

“Oh for Cauldron’s sakes you old bat, no one sent me!” Idelisa burst out and Amara’s eyes widened as she tried to hush her, only to be swatted away.

“I went to your Mother forsaken court because my own bloody father was there! I never expected to run into your damn brat! Or for this stupid bond to snap in!” She was furious in her own right, and Amara could only imagine the amount of pain she went through after Beron realized what happened. 

Not to mention Eris. 

She took her hand and squeezed it. Idelisa squeezed back.

“This is a fucking train wreck Rhys,” Feyre resisted the urge to rest her head in her hands. The entire situation went from bad to worse.

“I know,” No denying it. He kept his face neutral but it slightly cracked as Beron and the young woman went at each other.

“Enough!” It was Vivienne who spoke up, “None of us know the full story. So instead of arguing like children, let’s try and figure out what’s going on.”

Before Beron could bark a reply, Helion spoke up, “The bond isn’t a trick.”

All eyes turned towards him.

“The bond is real. An ancient magic suppressed by ancestors far older than us. It’s real. And if it’s suddenly reemerging, it means someone lifted the spell that kept them from forming. Which is no easy feat.”

He spoke with a natural ease, but his eyes were sharp and calculating. Flickering to each face on the table, he grinned softly yet coldly. 

“It seems we have someone else who wants to cause a discourse between the Courts, it’s a matter of time before they reveal themselves” 

The tension grew even thicker, wrapping around them all as a chokehold.  

Amara could barely breathe, as each High Lord looked at each other through lenses of suspicion and caution.

God knows what they would do if they found out Rhysand and Feyre had the bond too.

Or Helion.

Her heart stuttered in her chest at the thought. 

Idelisa squeezed her hand harder, and Amara let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. 

“What’s your name, girl?” Tamlin spoke up, looking at Idelisa. His voice made it clear that it was no question, but was a touch kinder than Beron’s.

“Idelisa. Idelisa Emory” She wrinkled her nose slightly at the sound of her family name, having always hated it.

“What were you doing in the Autumn Court.” His gaze never left hers, and she sighed softly.

“Look. It’s true. I’m from the Night Court. I used to be a servant in Hewn City. But my father is from a different court, from Autumn. My mother is from Night. I just lived with her when I was young. The entire reason I went to Autumn is because of a letter I received of his apparently impending death. I couldn’t exactly tell anyone” Her voice became spiteful, “I went there only to deal with his second wife and their fucking offspring. And then a month later, I run into that stuck up asshole and Boom!” She throws both of her arms up and jolts everyone near her, “Bond snapped in place so damn hard I keeled over!” 

It... was pretty similar to what happened to Amara, with the bond.

Snapped in place so hard it knocked the three of them off their feet. 

“How do you know you’re speaking the truth?” Tarquin spoke up this time, giving her a level look, and she sighed softly, leaning her head on her hand.

“I guess you don’t. But I have nothing to gain by lying. I hate that brat, and I just want to go home and forget that any of this ever happened.” Her words were raw, and they could see the tears building in her eyes. 

After a few moments of silence, Thesan spoke up, “I think we all need some time to deliberate on the information given today”

Helion casually motioned towards the doors, “Rooms are available to all. As well as the library.” After a few murmurs, they all agreed to stay.

This was too important to put off until tomorrow, but they needed time to think. 

Amara stood up and took Idelisa’s hand when Eris eyed her, and leveled a look back at him. After a few tense moments, he stalked off with the woman and his father towards one of the guest rooms. 

“He’s a real piece of shit” Idelisa swore, and Mor spoke up, “Yeah. He is.” Idelisa glanced over at her, before looking over the rest of the Inner Circle and then Amara.

“...Hey, ‘Mara?”

“What?”

“Why the fuck are you here with them?”

“...It’s a long story.” 

                                                         ~

Rhys allowed her to stay in the room, and after both he and Feyre casted a shield over it, did Amara explain what happened. 

But it was a felt different when she spoke.

Her voice was sharper, and more clipped as she explained the story.

Feyre gave Rhys a glance.

“She sounds really pissed off”

“She has a right to be. With everything going on, I’m surprised she’s managed to stay calm this long” Rhys sighed softly as Amara spoke, and glanced around the room.

It was luxurious to say the least. A large bed, and window. Plush rugs and gold curtains, with a detailed wallpaper. There was even a larger couch and table that housed different fruits near the center. Mor lounged on the couch with her feet in Cassian’s lap, while Azriel idled next to the window. 

He and Feyre had curled up on the smaller armchair by the window, while Amara and Idelisa sat on the bed.

“...Woah.”

“Yeah. Woah.” Amara rolled her eyes, and Cassian bit back a smirk as she did.

“..So.. uh.. you’re really mad at me, huh?”

“Mad doesn’t begin to describe how I feel about you.” All eyes turned towards her, yet she couldn’t find it in herself to care at the moment.

All of the stress and anger that she had tightly bottled up was coming out and she didn’t know how to stop it.

She didn’t know how to stifle it anymore.

She was tired of stifling it. 

“You just left! You left me there without a single word! You have no idea what the hell has been going on!” The words flowed out without her complete consent. Her filter needed some serious work.

Idelisa gave her a sad look, before taking her hands...

And getting smacked off.

“No! Idelisa this is fucked up on so many damn levels and you just-” She was cut off by Idelisa throwing herself onto her in a tight hug. And after a few tense seconds, she hugged her back.

“I know I messed up.. and I know this entire situation is fucked up.. but I’m here now.. and so are you.. and we’ll figure things out.. we always do.” Amara let out a soft sigh and nodded softly, too tired to argue.

The inner circle watched them warmly, knowing they should begin their own questioning of their relationship. But decided to let them have their moment.

Let them have a small bubble of peace among all of the strife.

The true questioning would begin soon enough. 

[red-5]

Addict

*18+ NSFW

*Request

‘Hiya! I wanted to make a request, pretty please! Can you do a one shot with either Bucky or Steve? And do you think you could use the song ‘Quit’ by Cashmere Cat (Ft. Ariana Grande.) I love that song. Thanks love!💕 ‘

A/N: Bucky was the obvious choice for me given the choice of song. I hope you don’t mind terribly @snowprincess133, but given the ::ahem:: suggestive nature of the lyrics, this got pretty smutty pretty fast. This did spark inspiration for a potential future Steve story that is similar to this one if there is an interest. Anyway, I hope this is what you had in mind. Enjoy. :)

It wasn’t fair. He knew it wasn’t. He told himself that simple fact every step of the way, knowing it wouldn’t stop him but perhaps acting as penance for his forthcoming sins, of which he was certain there would be many.

And you say that I’m the devil you know, and I don’t disagree

The bite of the frozen, metal fire escape barely registered in the chilled fingers of his right hand, let alone his left. He moved automatically, careful to keep his eyes low and head ducked as he climbed and swung his way to a familiar window, illuminated from the inside by a soft glow. Uncertainty finally clawed its way into his chest as he caught sight of her face, more beautiful than he had remembered, stealing the breath from his lungs and nearly knocking him off balance.

They say, “You crazy, just leave him, he’ll suffocate you” But I wanna be in your arms

He didn’t have to imagine what her friends had to say about him, she had told him outright. It was the last time they had spoken, months ago but he remembered every detail as if it were yesterday. She had done everything he had asked, kept his identity a mystery, made excuses, lied, and he had come to her, tail tucked between his legs and told her he wanted to put an end to it.

It was bullshit, of course, and he had nearly caved to the part hurt, part fury that raged in her eyes. But it was with blind panic that he realized how dependent he had become on her scent, her taste, the feeling of her skin against his, and the longer he went without it, the more volatile he became.

He would not ruin her.

‘Cause when you call my heart starts to roll, I always want more It’s my heaven, my hell

His craving became too much, burning and itching under his skin, twisting painfully in his stomach as need gave way to obsession. He hadn’t realized where he was going until he was well away from the compound, the smog-filled air of the city replacing the crisp, clean air surrounding the Avengers property. His cheeks and nose were chapped red by the time he parked his motorcycle in the alley, slinking through the shadows until he found himself frozen in place.

We’re heading deep inside lives a voice, a voice so quiet But I can’t hear that voice when your heart beats next to mine

She hadn’t seen him yet, her head still ducked towards the screen of her computer, he could slip away as silently as he came. Her life would continue without him, and be all the better for it.

But he didn’t want to leave. He wanted her to see him, to give him a reason to stay, as devastating as the fallout would be. He needed to feel her eyes on him, though he told himself in vain that it would not make him crave her touch. That her gaze would be enough.

I can’t quit you, I can’t quit you

He started when her eyes snapped up to meet his, his presence finally scratching at that unknown place at the back of her mind and forcing her to seek out the source. The fluorescent light from her screen cast deep shadows across her face, but even in the scarce light he could see the conflict that played out. Doubt bubbled sourly in his stomach as the seconds dragged on at an agonizing pace, but scarcely faded when at long last she stood slowly and wrenched the window open.

Yeah, I’m gonna regret it

She didn’t stand to watch him clamor inside, turning her back to him and wrapping her arms tightly around her torso as she paced angrily. His fingers itched to touch her, his skin set on fire with her proximity, head swimming drunkenly with her intoxicating scent. He was an alcoholic on the road to sobriety, and had found himself at the bottom of a bottle.

She halted abruptly, nearly vibrating with rage as she fixed him with a hard stare.

“How dare you.”

He flinched, her words like a sharp slap to the face.

“You say the things you say, do the things you do, then show up here after everything?”

There was no defense he could give, no excuse for the hell he had dragged her through, and so he gave none. His silence only enraged her further.

“Why are you here, James? Did you think you could just appear out of the blue and everything would be fine? Don’t tell me you’re here to apologize, because you can keep your pity.”

I know I’m gonna regret it

He allowed his eyes to find hers, losing themselves in their familiarity though he felt the sting of their absent warmth.

“I… “

She raised an expectant eyebrow, and he couldn’t stop his gaze from dropping to her trembling lips.

“You what? You what, James? You can’t do this!”

Her rising voice rang harshly in his ears, hitting him dead center like a blow to the chest. He had wanted to destroy her faith in him, never having felt deserving of it in the first place, to crush any chance she would harbor lingering feelings for him in his overconfidence to control his own hunger for her. It wasn’t the fury in her words that tore at him, it was the pain that lie beneath. The pain that shone in the unshed tears that had collected in the corners of her eyes. He had broken her the way he had broken himself.

The self-hatred that rose in his throat like bile only fed his selfishness, his firm belief that there was truly nothing pure about him save for the light she provided. The light he had snuffed out.

The single tear that slipped down her cheek shattered the smoldering remains of his heart along with his control.

When you said, "Baby, I just want you to lay me down and we’ll fuck the pain away”

“Just tell me what- “

He swallowed the rest of her sentence with an open mouth, lunging across the room to grip her face and crush his lips forcefully to hers. They stumbled, tripped, grasped at clothing and limbs to right themselves, fused together despite the small, frantic fists that beat mercilessly against his chest. Metal fingers tangled in her hair, flesh hand gliding down the flimsy material of her nightshirt to clutch at her hip. By the time the mattress hit the back of her knees, her fingers had unwound from their tight clench to twist into the lapel of his leather riding jacket.

Teeth clashed as they collapsed in a heap on the blankets, writhing and gasping as hands reacquainted themselves with the curves and contours of each other’s bodies. A deep growl rumbled in his chest as she tore his outer layer away, arching her body shamelessly into his and scraping her nails up the expanse of his back through the thin cotton of his shirt.

'Cause skin on skin, I feel nothing but the burning of desire

His lips slid to her jaw, biting, and nipping at the heated flesh of her neck as his fingertips danced up her thigh, relishing in her gasps and moans, the sweet little sounds he had deprived himself of for too long. The last offensive barrier that blocked her from his touch was swiftly removed, slid torturously down her legs, and discarded carelessly.

The pad of his thumb felt its way to the swollen bud at the apex of her thighs, his own arousal growing painfully in his jeans at the feminine cry that tore from her throat. He began his descent, metal fingers unwinding from her hair to slide her last article of clothing up her torso, exposing a new expanse of delicious skin for his lips to wreak utter destruction on.

Days-worth of unshaven scruff left red, irritated bumps in its wake as his mouth sucked deep purple marks into the dips and divots of her hip bones, fingers teasing at the slick flesh between her legs. Her hips heaved and jerked off the bed and into his touch, hand fisting tightly in his hair to yank his mouth back to hers. He leaned his elbow by the side of her head as the impatient hand that dropped between them to claw at his belt confirmed she was as desperate for this as he was.

And that’s just foreplay

The bite if his zipper still dug into his thighs as she hooked a knee around his hips, his hand abandoning its post as he positioned himself to slide around to the back of her leg and squeeze a merciless bruise into place as he anchored himself to her.

Their sighs and moans rose and twisted in tandem crescendo as he slid into her in a single motion, his head dropping into the valley between her neck and shoulder, hot breath coming in short, shuddering pants. Her nails dragged an exquisite burn across his lower back, urging him to move, to begin that heavenly undulation that would bring them the sinful release they craved. He acquiesced to her demands, rolling, and crashing into her, desperately tamping down the release that had already begun to build deep inside him.

It had been much too long.

We’re heading deep inside lives a voice, a voice so quiet But I can’t hear that voice when your heart beats next to mine

Her eyes screwed shut, one arm winding around his torso, the other cradling his head against her, body quivering involuntarily as months of suppressed, unbridled passion mounted between them. There was no hesitation, no moments of clarity or realization that they slowly unraveled any progress they had made in abstinence, any forward momentum their lives had taken without the other in it. There would be no recovering from this, not this time. The fire would surge to life once more, or plunge his life into eternal winter.

He would take that bet a thousand times over.

I can’t quit you, I can’t quit you

All too soon her body twitched and spasmed beneath him, nails digging into his flesh as her climax sparked his own, dragging him deep into the undertow of overwhelming sensation and absolute pleasure that howled in his ears and unraveled the very fibers of his muscles as they clenched painfully before dissolving into putty. He fell limp against her, melting into her form, chest heaving, ear pressed against the sweat-soaked skin of her chest. The erratic rhythm of her heart sang sweetly to him as he recovered, fingers threading clumsily through his tangled mess of hair to brush the strands from his cheek before stilling at the base of his neck.

Her breathing evened, and as much as he hated himself for it, for all of it, he would allow himself to stay pressed against the soft warmth of her body, to bathe in her scent and her touch, to be the monstrous, selfish man that he was. To indulge in the first night of sleep unplagued by the ghosts that haunted his waking hours he had gotten in ages.

The morning would either bring his salvation, or his undoing. He would allow the night to bring his sanctuary.

Gonna regret it Yeah, I’m gonna regret it

@angelaiswriting

[din-skywalker]

Death’s Deal- Part 2

Here’s the next part!!!

Remember, it’s kind of dark and sad for the time being. Don’t worry, it will become happier soon ;)

(Remember: during this time, women were heavily looked down upon and controlled. They had hardly any freedoms. Signe actually has a lot because Jack- because, well, he’s Jack. This was strange for any man to give to their wife, especially noble such as Jack. But I still had to make her fall into some of the normal “womanly things” from the time so yeah :)

Signe has managed to fix the house up quite well in her opinion. She’s sure Jack will like how she’s decorated it with the pretty plants she’s found around the small cabin. The small supply of food they had brought has barely been touched by her; she’s never had to eat that to be satisfied. It’s just Jack that devours everything. He seems to have an almost insatiable appetite until she cooks him something. He always says that she is the best cook out there.

Though, she’d have to disagree. She will always say that he is a better cook than her, even if he does burn the food he tries to cook for her. She just loves how he tries for her.

It’s the second day since Jack had left for town and now Signe is down by a nearby river she had found. She is expecting to return soon but for now she’s decided to try her hand at fishing with a net she had made in her spare time after cleaning the cabin. She hasn’t had much luck thus far, however.

The sound of horse hooves and the rattle of a nearby carriage causes her to nearly drop her newly made fishing net as she quickly straightens. She hardly catches it in time and turns, her short cut hair brushing the sides of her face. While so many of the other men frown and shake their heads to see her, a woman, with hair cut to her shoulders Jack smiles and compliments her, remarking how it looks as though it is framing her face. He even allows her to wear men’s clothing including shirts and pants. “You can wear or have your hair anyway you find comfortable,” he’d told her the day they’d married, brushing a freshly cut strand of hair from her face. “I will always love you.”

She’d known she was lucky to have found such an amazing man and husband in Jack.

Her eyes land on the face of Jack sitting on the front of the carriage and her heart soars. She grins widely and leaps forward, the net flying out behind her before she drops it near the cabin. She reaches the carriage just as Jack is stepping down and so she is able to throw herself at him. He catches her with a laugh, spinning her around and around before pushing her off. She gives him a confused look.

“Let me clean,” Jack said matter of factly. “The plague could still be on me and my clothes. I don’t want you to catch it if that’s the case.”

For some reason, just the way he said that made her suspicious.

Yet she stepped aside and pointed him in the direction of the river. She began to unload the carriage and water the horse, hearing how she pant from the long walk. She pats the mare’s snout, scratching the front of her yellowish ear. Then, she walks inside and begins to organize the new supplies- some building tools, survival tools, food and medical supplies- into the kitchen cabinets. Then she goes into the living room and begins to brush some dust from the old pieces of furniture which had been left here. Next, she makes Jack a small meal to welcome him back once he’s fully cleaned.

Now she waits.

As he enters she smiles and hugs him once more. She loses her smile, however, frowning as she feels how tense he is. He gently pushes her back a second later, a smile on his own face. But it looks strained and there is some kind of dark emotion shadowing his eyes.

Her heart twists. No…

“You cooked me something?” Jack asked and it’s the first thing he’s said to her. She flinches at her strained and raspy his voice is and she looks down at the ground as he continues to smile forcefully, hands clenched at his sides. “I was wanting to cook you something.”

He knows that she knows.

*•*•*•*•*•*

(The Black Death would kill the people it infected in three or four days. Women always seemed to have a higher tolerance to the plague and last a full day longer than men or find it harder to catch but eventually everyone would be infected. And, once someone were to catch it, the people that loved them would lose hope instantly because no one ever survived the three grueling days.)

Now as Signe looks more closely at Jack as they sit close to one another on their bed she can see how pale he’s become. Too pale. She’s not afraid of catching the illness now from Jack; women seem to have a higher tolerance to the plague than men. She holds his hands in her lap, the fabric of her pajama pants brushing the skin of his too white knuckles.

“You tried to hide it from me,” she whispered, her voice softly breaking the silence of their dimly lit room. A small candle flickers behind them on the nightstand she had built, its dull light casting strange shadows across their faces. But she can still see his beautiful features, his gorgeous eyes and she can never stop herself from being in awe of how beautiful her husband is. She lets her thumb slide across the cool metal of his wedding ring, the matching ring on her finger.

Jack chuckles softly, the sound strained. She shuts her eyes, letting her forehead fall to his chest. A hand rests on the back of her head softly. “But of course I couldn’t,” he said, amusement in his voice.

“Of course not,” Signe snapped, pushing away now and she doesn’t mean to let her anger to her but it’s rushing into her voice and mind and she’s frustrated with him. “I told you not to go. You went anyway. Told you not to get sick. You got sick anyway. And now you tried to hide it? What the hell, Sean?”

Her voice had began to tremble near the end of her anger filled rant and her shaking legs give out beneath her a moment later. She hugs herself and a sob forces it’s way from her chest. The tears which she had been holding back burst forth now as she cries to her heart’s content.

“You’re all I have left, Sean,” she cries out, eyes snapping back up to his face as she sobs softly. Her accent is fully in her tone now, always coming on fully when upset or filled with strong emotions. Jack is looking down at her, his eyes dark as he watches her cry below him. He had promised this would never happen again. Two lies in one night, huh? He was getting bad. “What am I to do without you?”

There’s a heavy sigh and then Jack is crouching in front of her, cupping her cheek to gently guide her eyes to his. She sniffles softly but her breath catches as Jack lightly brushes her tears from her cheek.

“Signe,” he began and his voice is unwavering even as his body shakes from illness. It’s already worsening and it’s only his first day. She’s sure he’ll fall over at any moment. She swallows heavily, forcing her breathing to even as she listens to him intently. “Signe… you are the strongest woman- no, the strongest person I have ever met. I’ve always admired you for that. Signe… my last wishes of life,” she can’t stop herself from sobbing, “are that you stay by my side until I.. until I’m gone. And then… please, be happy in anyway you can be.”

She originally thought that she would never be happy without Jack if he were to leave her. But now, as the Black Plague is sinking it’s claw into his body, as he asks her to be happy without him, she knows she’ll be able to.

She catches his wrist in her grip tightly, continuing to cry. She continues for a few more minutes before she finally calms herself and meets his eyes once more, nodding with determination. He smiles brightly, the most real he has smiled that day as she helps him stand, his strength suddenly leaving him.

“I’m sorry, Signe,” he said to her softly as she lays him into their bed. She nearly breaks down once more but she forces herself to stay strong now. She’ll need to for him. For his last days on this earth. She would do this for him. “I’m sorry for however I have wronged you. But I am glad you were my wife…”

“And I’m glad you were my husband,” she replied softly, pressing a kiss to his head of hair. “Now get some rest. You’ll need it for the next few days.”

His eyes close and she exits the room, breaking down once more in the sitting room.

She hadn’t expected to hear a soft chuckle behind her.

•*•*•*•*•*•*

If you enjoyed, please, tell me.