#( looks into the crowd and prowl raises his hand without hesitation )

[andieperrie18]

moral of the story (batfamily x batmom reader)

Inspire by moral of the story by ashe

So I never really knew you, God I really tried to

Loving Bruce wasn't hard. I have a lot of love to give and I gave myself to him unconditionally and thought that I he'll learn to love me someday. There were times that he would open up to me about things and his children. I did everything I could to help him, from taking care and raising the children he adopted, loving them like they are mine, to supporting his nightly routine.

"Aren't you father's wife, why aren't you sleeping in the same bed with him?" asked little Damian as I tucked him to his bed.

It's surprising to everyone that I was the first to tame the blood child of Bruce but I didn't really know how I did it too. Same as all of Bruce's children. I guess I just loved them all equally as a mother would wth her own child.

He wasn't the first child to ask me that, Dick, Jason, Tim, Cass and Duke did aswell but I didn't have the heart to tell them that I was hoping to be one day worthy to sleep beside him.

I was talking with my lawyer, saying where'd you find this guy

Said young people fall in love with the wrong people sometimes

I can't even move a muscle. My eyes were just staring at the blank line marked with an X and beside it was another line but filled with the perfect signature of my husband.

"I'm really sorry Y/n," I heard my lawyer/childhood bestfriend mutter to my side. I took a glance at her, teeth gritted and a frown blossomed on her face.

"Fei, its really ok-","OKAY?! HOW COULD YOU SAY THAT Y/N?!! YOU LOVED HIM FIRST!! YOU SAYING THAT YOU ARE REALLY LETTING HIM GO TO A S--"

"Fei, please. Don't make this harder. I don't need you to tell 'I said so' or 'you should have listened to me'. I don't even know how to tell my kids abou this so please don't make it harder for me..." I could feel my voice breaking with both my hands holding my torso cause I can't even read the contents of the papers placed before my eyes.

She finally stopped walking in circles from my pheripheral vision for a moment then pulled the chair she was sitting on earlier close to me. Then next I felt her pull my head to her until I was nuzzling my unmake-up face to her white office shirt.

That night, I walked down to the batcave where Bruce was. Alfred was there as well and didn't fail to greet me with a warm smile. But he saw the manila folder I held and it made the smile on his face disappear in a blink. I made my way to the man I once called my husband. He wasn't alone.

In his Batman uniform, his lips was sealed in a loving kiss by the only woman he had ever loved from the start. The very woman I can never compete for his heart.

Selina immediately notice my presence and pulled away from Bruce. She loved him. She really did, I guess that's enough assurance that Bruce will be okay. His world will keep turning with or without me in it.

Bruce turned to where she was looking to meet my pained smile. He put himself before her, it made my heart ache a lot more. Whe I got to them, I didn't let him speak as I gently handed the envelope I had. Judging how his face turned from concerned to guilty, he already knows what's inside.

"I just wanna say something to her, I won't her,"

He didn't speak but moved aside and I was face to face with Selina. I could tell with the way she avoids my gaze, she is guilty with my state. With slightly shaking hands, I took her hands.

Some mistakes get made, it's alright it's okay

You can think that you're inlove, when you're really just in pain

third person

"I know that he loves you and no matter how much love I give him, It won't come to that amount on how much you love him," despite the stutter at the end of the sentence, Y/n kept he chin up.

Bruce was silent but he knew what he did was eating him inside. His guilt was prowling beast ready to swallow him up at that running second. He was the one fueling it as well as regret grew. He understood this act was the cause of his heartlessness but in his mind he knew that Y/n didn't believe that.

What was worse at that moment and had made his guilt grow a lot more was winessing how his now ex-wife acted. Instead of rampaging, she acted civil and collected.

"I won't bother the both of you, all I ask is that you take care of my children,"

With that, she left the couple alone. They were silent but something screamed louder in it.

"Ummi?" Y/n's head shot up as her eyes found Damian who was rubbing his eyes as he had just woke up from a nap. The woman put a smile and walked to the boy, taking her in her arms carrying him. Damian didn't mind this gesture from her as he had grown custom to his only motherly figure in the house. The only woman he will recognize as his mother at the bottom of his heart.

"Hey baby D, why you up? It's half past bed time," Damian leaned his head tiredly on Y/n's shoulder and mumbled, "I'm hungry Ummi,"

Unknown to the boy that his sudden presence was what his mother needed at the moment of rock bottom. With a stuttering voice, she agreed to do the boy's request. Y/n walked to the kitchen with a slow pace while holding Damian close as if someone would try to take him away from her.

That night, she baked a lot of chocolate chip cookies because Damian wasn't the only one who came. Dick came with Jason and Tim after a tight shift in Patrol. They all shared about how their days went before Cass and Duke followed in and entered the last bonding they'll have with their mother.

They say it's better to have loved and lost

To have never have loved at all

Damian fell asleep on the island and Y/n took the liberty to take him to his room. But before he could leave, the slight pull on the hem of her shirt stopped her. She spun her head slowly to meet all of her children's lowered heads and sad faces. They already know.

"Mom I--…We...--" her eldest began his bright blue eyes turning glossy as every second pass, trying to form the right words he wants to say. He always knew what to do when it comes tips and advices for people like a typical therapist as Jason joked but for the first time, even he can't think of anything to do to ease the second special woman next to his biological mother, "Richard, sweet heart…"

The boy didn't finish but rushed towards her and his sibling followed, crowding over her. Y/n welcomed the comfort of the children she come to treasure in her heart. They all head to the living room and continued to crowd Y/n. Damian innocently slept as you cradle him to your chest, Jason and Cass occupied your sides, Tim rested himself beside you legs, Dick held his mother's hand resting in top of Jason's thighs as he no longer minded it, Duke sat at the opposite side of Tim and Stephanie sat beside Cass. All of them stayed up staring into thin air hoping tomorrow wouldn't come.

that could be a load of shit

but I just gotta tell you all

your pov

"U-ummi please…please…."

The weight on my shoulder doubled as I weakly tried to removed Damian's arms wrapped around my waist, his hand clinging to the thick beige sweater I wore to sheild me from the cold wind. I can't even breath with all my sobbing and I can't even see straight with all the free falling down from my eyes and cheeks.

"Damian baby, Ummi has to go," I tried to say straight.

As much as I wanted to shove Damian away so that I won't get caught and cornered up byhis siblings because if I do, it'll make leaving a lot harder than it is.

some mistakes get made, it's alright, its okay

third person

Turns out Y/n did all the things in one day. After signing papers, she had her bestfriend book her a flight to a foreign country. She will need a lot of alone time to contemplate and digest her current situation. Before she head to the cave, she had already packed her things for her flight. Everyone except Damian saw the bags waiting near the entrance. They would have rushed to talked her out when they found her happily talking with their youngest sibling like nothing happened that whole day. They all silently and mentally agreed that their mother needed this, Y/n needed this. Alfred couldn't bear the sad faces in the living room. Bruce didn't bother to come out his room after Selina have left. He can't face her. You don't derserve to see the man who betrayed you.

Dick and Jason was the first to wake when Damian's loud voice boomed outside the house. And soon everyone woke and they all head to the open doors. What they saw woke them to reality. Their aunt Fei's car was parked at the Drive way and beside is was Y/n and Damian, the latter latched on the woman's waist.

No one had the guts to walk over you two and pull the sobbing child on her mother's waist.

"I don't want her, I want you!!" the boy cried. Damian had never cried that much before. He was using all his strength to stop Y/n from entering the vehicle.

Y/n stopped struggling as she finally bursted to fits of sobs and collapsed in front of Damian who pulled her into his tight embrace. Both crying their hearts out.

"Don't leave," he repeated over and over as he buried his face on her neck. "I love you Ummi,"

"Damian, Baby I'm really Sorry. I am so sorry, I love you baby so much," Damian slowly collapse in her arms and Y/n dropped the sleep sedative she hid in her pockets if Damian ever find out. Continous sobs left her as her Dick came to her and took Damian from her arms. She hugged her eldest tightly, Jason followed with few tears escaping his own eyes, then Tim and so on.

Alfred who had been hidden by the crowd of her children walked to her. Y/n didn't hesitate to hug the old man who cried silently.

Y/n hopped inside the car and watched her children sad and crying faces but mostly to unconscious boy held by her eldest child.

#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x you #damian robin damianwaynexreader damianwaynexoc wayne batman batboys #damian wayne #damian way x batmom #batmom #sad #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #cassandra cain #stephanie brown #duke thomas #batfamily x reader #batfamily x you

[fanfic-collection]

Loki x Pompeii!Reader

It's the Pompeii prompt, but really I wrote it as an excuse to have Loki be shirtless in a hot tub.

No regerts

-

The rush of blood filled your ears, drowning out the crowd around you. Your feet pounding on stone and your ragged breathing the only other noise you could make out as raced through the throngs of people.

Risking a glance over your shoulder, you saw the beast of a man was still after you.

Swallowing hard, your throat dry and burning, you forced your attention forward again.

Ducking around stalls and market vendors, past people and animals alike. On, he pursued you.

The wind was knocked out of you as you felt yourself collide with something solid. You had risked another glance back and did not see the sudden appearance of a man before you. To your surprise though, as the man knocked the wind out of you, catching you in his arms, he shifted his hold on you and spun you about. He had one hand on your upper back and another on your hip. Your hands instinctively moved to his chest, despite his strange clothes.

For just a moment though, as he held you in your arms, slowing your momentum, you spun around. But in that precious time, you gazed up into his face and met his eyes as he stared back at you. The two of you shared a stunned look.

The man had strange green eyes, sharp cheeks, black wavy hair and a tall forehead. He stared at you with an intensity like no other. His thin, pale lips parted slightly as he looked at you clearly confused.

Your face must have mirrored his.

The two of you stopped spinning.

He didn’t move his hands.

Nor did you. The strange material felt so odd under your hands and if you were being honest the broadness of his chest and the muscles… You felt your cheeks heat up and forced yourself to pull back.

A smirk crossed this strange man’s face as he gazed down at you, finally letting go of you.

“Loki! What are you doing? We’re not supposed to interact with the locals, you’re going to mess the timeline up even more.”

You looked over as a man with grey hair and similar clothes came running around the corner.

“Loki?” You asked.

“I am.” Loki smiled, seeming to like you saying his name. “And she ran into me, I merely prevented us from falling over.”

Abruptly you recalled why you were running.

Loki looked at you, seeming ready to ask you that same question.

Before you could speak, the beast of a man finally arrived, charging into the alleyway that the three of you were tucked away in. “Come here, you’re mine.” He reached for your wrist and you tugged away, kicking him as hard as you could. The brute snarled, holding up his hand to strike you with the back of it.

Loki stepped forward and caught it, “That’s enough.”

“Loki…” The grey haired man warned softly. “You know what’s going to happen, just let history progress as it should.”

“I won’t stand idly by and let thugs like this exist.” Loki responded coolly.

You looked between the men fearfully.

Loki held your gaze, “You’re safe, trust me.”

Slowly you nodded.

“Give me it, Mobius.”

“No.”

“Give me it or I’m taking it.”

“I’ll have to report you for defiance in the field.”

“Would you really do that?”

The man, Mobius, sighed, “Loki. Please.”

Still gripping the brute’s wrist, Loki held out his hand towards Mobius. Mobius sighed heavily and tossed a little box to Loki. Loki took the box and touched it to the brute’s arm. There was a soft whir and a flash of fire sparks and then… the brute was gone.

You squeaked, pulling away.

Loki lunged towards you, tossing the box in the same movement back to Mobius. “Hey, hey, easy now.” He said soothingly, “You’re fine, you’re safe, no one is going to hurt you.”

Held by both of Loki’s strong hands, you realized that despite what you had just seen, you did feel safe. Slowly you nodded.

Loki exhaled softly, a smile spreading on his face. “Now then.” He stepped back, removing his hands. Bowing low, he reached for your hand and pressed a soft kiss to it, his lips brushing across it feather light.

You found yourself giggling.

“I am Loki, at your assistance. God of Mischief, current employee of the Time Variance Association.”

You blinked at him.

“And who might you be?”

“Oh!” You scrambled to tell him your name as the man Mobius looked more and more uncomfortable.

“Loki, can we talk?” Mobius hissed. He grabbed Loki’s strange sleeve and dragged him a few feet away, lowering his voice to angrily yell. “What do you think you’re doing? The volcano is going to blow in three days. She’s going to be dead. Why are you making friendly with her? You’re jeopardizing the mission by getting buddy buddy with a local, and if we have to come back and do this again, we could throw even more timelines out of balance.”

The two men looked over at you.

“She heard everything I just said.”

“Oh most definitely.” Loki replied.

“Dammit.” Mobius cursed softly.

You waved at them.

“Look, just give me a little time with her and I’ll clear this whole thing up.”

“Yea? How?” Mobius retorted.

“I’m the god of mischief, I can be very convincing.”

Mobius rolled his eyes. “Fine, fine, whatever. I’m going back to basecamp, but just, don’t screw this anymore than you already have.”

“How is this my fault? She ran into me!”

“It’s always your fault, Loki.” Mobius sighed and shook his head, turning and walking off.

You watched him walk away. “He seems…” Pursing your lips, you searched for the word.

Loki rolled his eyes. “Bureaucratic.”

You smiled at Loki. “So, uh, what’s this about me dying?”

Looking down at you, Loki picked at his hand, his eyebrows furrowed. “Nothing, come on. Show me Pompeii.”

-

“And last of all, this is where I live.” You announced, having given Loki a tour of the entire city.

Night had fallen by now and you were glad to be home. Standing on your doorstep, you were now even with Loki in height. The night chill had settled in and you found yourself slightly envious of Loki’s strange clothes, a jacket, to keep him warm.

Loki looked at the building from the outside with interest, his eyes roving the structure but lingering on you.

“Would you… would you like to see inside?” You offered shyly.

You saw a tinge of pink on Loki’s cheeks as his eyes met yours, “I don’t want to be untoward.”

“It’s just a tour.” You offered your hand to Loki and he stepped in after you, looking around the extravagant building.

Loki tilted his head as he followed after you.

“I’m the daughter of a Senator. He makes sure I’m well looked after.” You shrugged.

As you led Loki through the various rooms and halls, showing him the paintings, mosaics, servants hard at work, and even the gardens, he commented mildly, “Even I’m impressed.”

“Oh, even?” You retorted, unable to stop yourself from playfully shoving him.

Loki chuckled, “You might not believe it, but I am a prince.”

You looked at him in surprise. “Really? Of where?”

“It is a far off place, you would not know.”

“Uh-huh…” You started skeptically, then looked at his clothes and thought of the strange box.

“You don’t believe me?” Loki replied, staring at you intently.

“Actually I think I do.”

“Good, I would not lie to you.”

You hesitated, uncertain about his sincerity. The memory of the man, Mobius, talking about your death came back to mind. “Do you have a place to sleep?”

“I can find my way back to our camp.” Loki shrugged.

“That will not do.” You shook your head.

Loki raised his eyebrow, amused. “Oh?”

Your cheeks heated up again. “And your clothing needs washing. You cannot wear that again tomorrow without having it cleaned.”

Loki smirked.

You reached for the shirt collar and rubbed your thumb along it, there was a grey blemish. “Surely my servants can clean whatever this is.”

Opening and closing his mouth for a moment, Loki stopped, “I won’t stop them from trying. What do you suggest I wear in the meantime?”

“We have more reasonable things to wear, and surely you would like to take a soak, no?”

“A soak?”

“Yes. It is the house bath so you wouldn’t be alone…”

Loki turned his head, uncertainly.

“I figured, I might join you?” Your voice rose in pitch.

The smirk on Loki’s face widened and he hummed softly, “I think that would be delightful.”

-

Modesty shift wrapped around your torso, the servant helped you step into the hot water. Thoughts flashed across your mind on living in a society where such modesty items weren’t the norm. Your cheeks heated up and you knew it wasn’t from the water.

You sank down onto the bench grateful that your servants had kept the pool steaming for your arrival, no matter how late you would get home. Your hair was tied back to keep it out of the water and kept up. Laying back, you rested your eyes, wondering when your guest would arrive.

Were you being too forward? He had just saved you from a terrible fate. And there was no denying how interested you were in him, and not just because he was from some strange existence. This man was breathtaking, you had never seen a man in these lands as gorgeous as him.

There was a soft knocking at the door. “Mistress. Your guest.”

You opened your eyes and looked over, swallowing hard.

Loki stood beside the servant, a simple cloth wrapped around his waist. Your eyes roved over his muscular torso, toned abdomen, broad shoulders, strong arms and…

Loki raised an eyebrow, clearly waiting for you to say something.

“Loki! Wonderful, come, come, please join me.” Your voice was hoarse as you slid over from the stairs to the bath.

Watching him walk, how like a predatory cat he moved, his muscles rippling with each step. No movement was unnecessary, each step deliberate, like a hunter on the prowl, and then he was sitting beside you in the bath.

Sighing, Loki leaned back in the bath and let out a small groan as his muscles loosened in the warm water.

Your heart pounded a mile a minute as you forced a smile looking at him. One of the servants stood waiting in the shadows. “Servant, fetch some wine.” You croaked.

“Wine? I haven’t had good wine in ages.” Loki mused.

“We should change that.” You murmured.

Loki reached for your hand beneath the water, gently lifting it to the surface with both his hands. He gazed at you seriously as his fingers trailed along the palm of your hand then down to the delicate wrist vein. “Your heartbeat is so fast, darling.” He smiled, tilting his head. His black locks shifted with the movement. Carefully he moved your hand over the left side of your chest, just above your breast. Lowering his voice to a whisper, he added, “And loud.”

You could feel your eyes shimmering as you stared up at him open mouthed. How you wished it was his hand and not yours in that place.

The door opened and Loki moved away, the spell broken.

A servant walked in, carrying a pitcher of wine and two goblets. He set down the pitcher and poured one goblet for each of you, before returning to his place in the shadows.

Loki moved opposite you, sipping his wine and stared, his gaze fixated on you. “This wine is incredible.” He purred. “Worthy of Asgard.”

“Asgard?”

“Where I was raised.”

“I have heard of no such place.”

“I am not surprised.”

“Is that where you are a prince?” You asked, reaching out and sliding your leg against his.

Loki smirked, “It is. It is where I am a god.”

“Careful, if the gods hear you challenging them, they tend to get angry.”

Loki shrugged, “So be it. Perhaps my presence is why Vesuvius must erupt.”

You furrowed your brow, “The mountain?” You pulled your leg back, “Is that the death that Mobius was talking about?”

Loki nodded.

“Oh.” You looked away sadly, “I am a distraction then… something to enjoy before, before you leave, yes?”

“No.” Loki shook his head. “I’m bringing you with us.”

You blinked, turning your head sharply to look back at him. “What?”

“The TVA cares too much about the sacred timeline. Their little lizard gods have too much power. If I’m going to burn their organization to the ground, well, I may as well throw it into as much chaos as possible first.”

“So, you’re just using me as a means to an end?”

“Some call me the god of chaos. But no.” Loki slid back around the bath to be next to you, setting down his goblet. “Sometimes there are people in your life that you meet, that you can feel play a part, sometimes a big part, sometimes a small part. I,” he hesitated, “I don’t know what role you’re destined to play yet.” Loki reached for your hand, his larger one engulfing yours, long fingers almost a full bend longer than yours.

The two of you looked at the way his hand consumed yours.

You nodded meekly, as he slid his hand to the side, clasping your hand together.

“I don’t know this feeling, but I don’t want to stop feeling it.” Loki confessed.

You rested your head on his chest. “I don’t want to either.” It was then that you could feel his heart racing and a small smile spread across your face.

-

Eventually you and Loki left the warm water that had begun to cool. You were each given robes and set off in the direction of the sleeping chambers.

“Wait, Loki.” You stopped, dismissing the servant who had indicated a guest room for Loki. “Stay with me?”

Loki looked at you uncertainly, glancing up and down the hallway at the guards standing at attention.

“Please, I’m always so cold after those baths.” You began earnestly.

The corner of Loki’s mouth twitched, “Very well.”

You reached for his hand, wrapping your pinky finger around his and led him along to the master chamber.

It was a grand room, decadent to the extreme. You dismissed the guards with a curt nod, though they stayed within calling distance. Beautiful art and pillars decorated the room with various sitting places should the need arise to entertain.

By the window, was your bed, one of the softest in the city.

Unable to stop yourself, and letting out a laugh at the scandal of it all, you dragged Loki over to the bed. Your legs hit the side and you fell back onto it, dragging him down on top of you.

Loki flushed, rolling over and laying beside you, gazing into your eyes. You gazed back at him, your chest heaving.

“I never noticed your eyes were so green.” You whispered.

“Oh?”

“I was trying to memorize all of you, I didn’t want to forget any details of you.”

Loki lay on his side, hooking his leg over yours so you rolled on your side to face him. Stroking his hand down the material of your nightgown, Loki smiled at you. “You won’t.” His hand came to rest on your waist.

Reaching up you tangled your fingers in his hair, stroking your thumb along his cheek.

Abruptly, Loki moved, gripping his other hand to your cheek, and the one from your waist moving up to guide you towards him and -

And then he was kissing you. His lips pressed to yours, soft gentle, lips brushing against yours, featherlight, mouths moving in sync, the faint tug as you feel him smiling. Your eyes already shut as you sink into the kiss as he rolls over pressing himself on top of you. He pauses the kiss and changes to soft staccato kisses, peppering them down your jaw and throat as you grip his strong shoulders and sigh arching your back into him.

Slowly he stops, the two of you opening your eyes and looking at each other again.

“I think I really like you.” You whispered.

Loki nodded mutely.

Words of confirmation would have been nice, but at least him nodding was something.

You smiled weakly, taking his hand and rolled over, your back to him, placing it on your stomach and closed your eyes.

Loki reached for the blanket, pressing his chin to the top of your head and covered the two of you with it. He laid there in silence, watching as you curled into him. Biting back his chuckle, he smiled as you gripped his arm fiercely, trying to wrap it around yourself as tight as you could in your sleep.

With his hand so occupied, and his other arm somewhat pressed beneath him, Loki focuses his mind on warding the room.

You wake abruptly in the early hours of the morning. Something warm is pressed to your back, a heavy weight across your body. You are entombed, unable to move.

There is a gentle snort, a soft grunt, and then a heavy sigh.

Swallowing hard, the memories of yesterday come flooding back. Craning your head around, and wiggling with all your might, you strain to see the person sharing your bed.

For a moment you are surprised. A part of you genuinely thought he would leave.

Loki’s body starts to react to your wiggling and you stop, face heating up. Biting your fist, you lay still.

Then, with apparent ease, Loki rolls over onto his back, dragging you with him and holding you in place much like a comfort object. He hugs you tight, and you lay on his chest, squeezed in place and unable to move. His physique suggested he was strong but this was beyond anything you could imagine.

Carefully, you shifted your arm free and reached up to stroke his face, “Loki, Loki…” You drew out the word, whispering in a sing song voice.

Loki’s eyes slowly opened, bleary with sleep. Letting go of you, though you stayed on his chest, he rubbed his eyes and yawned.

“Hey Loki.”

“Mmm, hello darling.” Loki hummed, blinking then slowly seemed to come to his senses. He sat up and you fell off of him. “What witchcraft?”

“What?”

Loki’s eyes darkened as he looked at you distrustfully. “I have not slept like that,” he trailed off.

You pulled back and sat next to him on the bed, tugging the blanket with you. The sting of tears welled in your eyes.

“My dear, I am so sorry.” Loki murmured, gripping your cheeks and pressing his forehead to yours. “I did not think I would ever sleep so well again.”

You smiled weakly, still feeling the prickle of tears, “I’m glad I could help.”

Loki pulled you close, hugging you into his arms and burying his face in your hair. “I will not let your fate be the same as this city.”

#Loki x reader #ficbit #imagine Loki

[bedlamsbard]

Some new concept writing! There’s backstory for this one, but I’m not sure how much will get written because it’s relatively different from most of my extant concept writing and/or canon.  The short version is that the Clone Wars ended, but not with Order 66; the Purge and fall of the Republic happened about 8-10 years later than in canon.  (Caleb and Hera would have been in their light teens/early 20s at the time, so about the same time as AND in canon.)  My worldbuilding brain is clicking over the differences and repercussions, but, uh, we’ll see if there’s more. (If I went forward, there would be some characters I haven’t written in five or six years turning up.)

About 3K below the break.  Please note that I don’t warn.

***

Parasites, Hera Syndulla thought, but kept her face pleasantly bland.  The description was unfair to only a small handful of her fellow senators, but as far as she was concerned was more than accurate in regards to the remainder. She sipped her wine and tilted her head a little to make it look like she was listening to Senator An’s description of the opera he had attended two nights previous, wondering if it was too early in the evening for her to go back to her apartment and scream into a pillow.

The occasion was a gathering to welcome freshman senators who might be inclined to the opposition party, which meant that a number of loyalist senators were here just to find out which of the freshmen were actually considering it.  In Hera’s experience the opposition mostly just made noise before agreeing to whatever legislation the Emperor wanted to pass, but the numbers mattered and a show of disapproval was better than nothing.  She wasn’t a freshman anymore, but her absence at the party would have been noticed by both sides; Ryloth didn’t hold much political sway but it was well-known.

A break in Senator An’s storytelling let her step away, gesturing vaguely at her now-empty wineglass as an excuse.  There were serving droids roaming the room so she was able to deposit it with one of them; she was trying to decide whether to stay longer or leave when she noticed an eddy in the crowd, people stepping aside and trying not to seem like they were doing so.  Riyo Chuchi was suddenly at her side, the older woman’s face drawn.

“What is it?” Hera asked her, low-voiced.

“The Emperor’s Inquisitor is making his rounds,” Riyo said, equally soft. She snagged two glasses from a passing serving droids and handed one to Hera.

She took it, tasted it, and then looked sharply at Riyo. “His?”

For the past two years, as long as Hera had been serving in the Senate, the Inquisitor assigned to Coruscant had been a woman, a huge Dowutin who delighted in terrifying the senators of both parties, as well as anyone else she came in contact with.

“I saw him in the other room,” Riyo said; the party spilled through half a dozen rented rooms and onto the balconies of each.  “He’s human, young.  I think I’ve seen him before, but I can’t think where.”

Hera raised her gaze as the movement in the room reached them.  She felt Riyo draw back, but Hera stood frozen, her heart in her throat.

The Inquisitor was a tall human male, amber-skinned and dark-haired, with a fading bruise visible on his face.  Despite that, and the scars that cut across his cheek, he was handsome; if he hadn’t been an Inquisitor Hera knew a dozen senators, female and otherwise, who would have been throwing themselves at him.  His pale gaze moved across the crowd without seeming to see anyone in it, as if he did so only to make sure they knew he was there.  If he saw Hera, he didn’t show it, just kept walking with steadied patience toward the balcony.

Hera put the glass back into Riyo’s hand and followed him before the Pantoran had a chance to protest her departure.

By the time she had reached the balcony, most of its occupants had fled back inside, though there were a dozen senators and their aides still standing by the refreshment cart there, trying not to watch the Inquisitor.  He had retreated to the far end of the balcony and was standing with his gaze fixed on the cityscape beyond.

He must have sensed her approach, but he didn’t show any sign of acknowledgment until she stepped up beside him and said quietly, “Caleb?”

He turned towards her, his eyes widening.

He had, Hera knew immediately, been very badly hurt.  There was something mad in his gaze, something more like a wounded animal than a sentient being; the scars that cut across his face had the look of something done deliberately rather than being incidental to combat injuries.  For an instant his mouth worked silently, then he looked over her shoulder at the other guests still on the balcony.  Hera turned in time to see all of them flee back into the room, leaving the two of them alone.

Hera had intended to be more circumspect about it, but since now everyone inside knew they were out here alone together she reached out and put her hand over his.  He looked at it as if he had never seen anything like it before, but didn’t pull away.

“What are you doing here?”

His voice was rougher than it had been five years ago, something that sounded like an injury rather than a reaction to her presence.

“I’m the senator for Ryloth,” Hera told him.  She wanted to take him into her arms, but didn’t dare, not when they were somewhere as public as this, not even with everyone else inside.  Instead, she squeezed his fingers and asked, “Can you come home with me?  I’ve got an apartment twenty stories down in the connecting building.”

He nodded.  She could feel him starting to shake, the shock from her unexpected appearance beginning to set in. “You go first,” he said, low-voiced. “I’ll follow.”

Hera nodded, hesitating briefly before she released his hand.  She wanted to kiss him, but couldn’t, not here, and not when she didn’t know how he would react to that.  She licked her lips and told him her apartment number, then stepped away and went inside without looking back at him.

People stepped away from her as she came in, as though she had been contaminated by her interaction with the Inquisitor.  Only Bail Organa and Riyo Chuchi came up to her, with Mon Mothma following them.

“Are you all right?” Bail asked her immediately. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine,” Hera assured them. “I know him.”

“How?” Mon Mothma asked, startled.

Hera hesitated, then said, “I need to talk to him first, somewhere that isn’t here.  Alone,” she added, seeing Bail open his mouth. “He won’t hurt me.”

From their expressions, she suspected that they guessed “I know him” meant “I had an affair with him before the Republic fell and everything went to blazes in a handbasket,” but none of them said anything along those lines, for which Hera was profoundly grateful. Instead, she said, “I have to go.”

None of them tried to stop her.  Bail said, “Be careful,” and Riyo squeezed her arm, her expression worried.

Hera smiled at them, then started to make her way out of the suite of rooms.  As crowded as they were, it took her some time until she could get her cloak and leave; most of the guests hadn’t heard about her tête-à-tête with the Inquisitor and get out of her way as a result, the way people had done with anyone who encountered the previous Inquisitor assigned to Coruscant.  By the time she had finally managed to leave, Hera was out of breath and irritated, and the effects of the wine she had been drinking earlier had worn off.  The walk back to her own junior senator’s apartments gave her time to calm down and think over what Caleb Dume’s appearance might mean.

He had been a Jedi. He had been a Jedi, and he had believed in it so profoundly that it had sometimes made Hera feel a little ashamed of herself.  Not for sleeping with him, which she knew his master had been aware of and somewhat amused by, but because she had never believed in anything that much in her life. She couldn’t believe that he had fallen in with the Emperor after the near-genocide of the Jedi, not willingly.

The look in his eyes hadn’t been entirely sane.

Hera went into the kitchen to start water boiling for tea, then into her bedroom to change out of her evening gown for something more comfortable.  She was just pouring hot water into the teapot when her door chime sounded.

She set the pot down on the kitchen table and went to get the door.  Caleb didn’t say anything as he came in, just waited for her to shut and lock the door behind him.  Hera opened her mouth, but he put a hand up to stop her, then went prowling nervously through the apartment.  Hera guessed that he was looking for listening devices and went back to the kitchen to finish making tea.

He came in a few minutes later.  Hera went over to him, hesitated, then took him in her arms.  For an instant he was stiff, then he returned her embrace.  He was shaking badly, his skin fever-hot when Hera reached up touch his scarred face.  He flinched when her fingers accidentally brushed the bruise around his left eye, but didn’t pull away.

“Can I kiss you?” Hera asked him.

Caleb nodded, bending his head to hers.  Hera kissed him slowly and carefully; he kissed her back with desperation.  When they stopped, breathing hard, he tipped his forehead against hers, his eyes closed.

“Tell me,” Hera whispered.

“He killed her,” Caleb said, his voice so soft that the words were almost a thought rather than spoken. “He killed Depa.  Then he – he – he’d bargained with the Emperor for me.  He killed her, and he – he –”  He was shaking again, so badly that his teeth were rattling together. “It took a long time, what he did to me,” he said eventually.  “Then he had me, and so did the Inquisition.”

“Come and sit down,” Hera said.  She got him into a chair and a cup of tea into his hand, then pulled another chair over so that she could sit next to him, close enough to touch.

He drank his tea slowly, his eyes narrowed in concentration as if it was the only thing he was capable of focusing on.  This close to him, Hera could see the scars barely hidden under the high collar of his black tunic, the same kinds of scars she had seen on freed slaves – left behind by a metal collar worn for too long.

Hera remembered the day the Purge had started.  It was burned into her memory, coming down to join her family at dinner and finding them all watching the HoloNews coverage of the Jedi Temple burning.  It had been barely a month after Depa Billaba and Caleb Dume had left, after Caleb had kissed her goodbye and promised that he would return after he had his knighthood, which he expected to attain within the year.  She had stood there, sick to her stomach, and known that he was dead.  He had been in her bed recently enough that she still had blankets that smelled like him and he was dead.

Except he hadn’t been dead.

“Who is he?” she asked him once he had finished the tea.  Hera poured more, but he just played with the cut-glass cup, running his gloved fingers over the silver holder. “The person who hurt you?”

“My master.”  His voice was utterly without inflection, but Hera could guess he wasn’t talking about Depa Billaba.  He pushed the cup away as his hands started to shake. “He’s – he was a Jedi, a Temple Guard.  He’d wanted me for a padawan years ago, but I didn’t know, and Master Billaba didn’t – but he was angry about it.  When the Emperor – he bargained with him for me.  We were still at the Temple.  He killed Depa, and he – he hurt me.”  He looked down at his hands as if he had never seen them before.  “I heard them killing the others,” he added eventually. “He and the others who betrayed the Order.  The other Inquisitors.”

“They’re Jedi?” Hera said, stunned. “They’re all Jedi?”

He nodded.  “After he did – what he did – it was a – a stopgap, almost, you could call it – he left me in that room with Master Billaba while he went to the rest of the…of the killing.  And when the others were all dead, he came back and did it again, to make sure it had taken, before he took me to the Inquisition headquarters on Mustafar to finish it.  The Emperor had been planning this for a long time,” he added, his voice very soft.

Hera swallowed back nausea. She didn’t think Caleb meant by that what anyone else would have meant, but she wasn’t entirely certain that he didn’t, either.  She was trying to decide how to ask when he said, very quietly, “There’s a way to force a master-apprentice bond, if the apprentice’s first master is dead.  The Jedi won’t do it unless there’s no other choice because it’s so dangerous; it’s better to let the bond develop naturally, even if it’s weak.  But – he –”

“It sounds like psychic rape,” Hera said hesitantly when he didn’t go on.  She couldn’t shake the mental image of Caleb locked in some room with Master Billaba’s body, probably injured himself, as the rest of the Jedi fought and died outside the door.

He nodded without looking at her.

“Is he here?”

Caleb shook his head. “Five years is long enough that he can let me out of his sight without worrying that I’m going to run away.  Or fall on my lightsaber,” he added, his voice a little distant.  He licked his lips, a nervous gesture, then raised his gaze to her. “I’m glad to see you.”

Hera leaned forward, slowly enough that he could pull away if he needed to, and kissed him gently. He put one hand up to curve the backs of his knuckles against her face, kissing her back. “You can stay with me as long as you’re here, if you like,” she said. “I have a spare room.”

He nodded a little, kissed her again, and then sat back in his chair.  After a moment of silence, he admitted, “That might not be a good idea. If anyone finds out, it won’t be safe for you –”

“Will anyone in the Empire challenge an Inquisitor if he wants to keep a mistress?” Hera asked. When he blinked, she said, “I don’t mean – you don’t have to sleep with me.  But it’s what people in the Senate and the HoloNews will think.”

“My master would,” Caleb said quietly. “And he’s the only one I can’t beat in a fight, if it comes to it.”

“I have friends too,” Hera told him. “I know the Senate is pretty useless in the Empire, but it isn’t without meaning, even now.”  She hesitated, on the verge of telling him that there were other Jedi who had survived, people who might be able to help him, but finally held back.  Even if he had been forced into it, he was still an Inquisitor, and Hera didn’t know him well enough anymore to be able to gamble anyone else’s life on what would he would do.

“What happened to your face?” she asked instead.

He touched a finger to his scarred cheek. “I tried to run away and my master caught me.  I’ve got others.”

“I meant the bruise,” Hera said, feeling a little sick.

“Oh.  I was in a fight.”  He hesitated, then reached out to take one of her hands, running his thumb over her knuckles. “How long have you been a senator?”

“Two years,” Hera said. “I ran against Orn Free Taa in the last election.”

“You’re smarter,” he said. “And prettier.”

“Right on both counts,” Hera said. “And I don’t take bribes.  And my father’s a war hero.  That helped.” She winced a little, but Cham Syndulla’s record was still better than Orn Free Taa’s, especially since Palpatine had removed his backing from the previous senator.  She suspected that the Emperor thought that a pretty young female senator, especially a nonhuman one, would be more or less harmless; Orn Free Taa’s decades in the Senate had given him allies in both main parties and most of the smaller ones, even if he himself was mostly ineffectual.  Hera had connections, but not the kind that would make her a serious threat, inasmuch as any single senator could be these days.  “How long are you here for?”

He shrugged. “Until I get reassigned.  They wanted someone as different as possible from the Hammer – the Inquisitor assigned here before me – as they could get, and I guess that was me.”

“Did you want to be assigned here?” Hera asked cautiously.  She wanted to ask how he felt about the Inquisition, if he was a true believer – from what he had said she suspected not – but couldn’t come out and ask it, not yet.

Caleb shrugged again. “I didn’t have a choice.  But my master’s not here, and that’s always a relief.”  He smiled shyly at her. “I’m glad you’re here.”

She leaned forward and kissed him again.  He had relaxed as they talked, and he kissed her back with less desperation now than he had before.

“Do you want to go to bed with me?” she asked him.

Caleb raised his eyes to hers. “Yes,” he said. “If you want to.”

Hera smiled and kissed him again, then got to her feet, drawing him with her.  She could have and probably should have waited until she knew how firmly he believed in the Inquisition and the Empire, if he had, as the Jedi she knew put it, gone over to the dark side, but he was here now, and she had been so certain he was dead.  For all the brevity of their affair, she had loved him very much, and she had known he had loved her – enough to know that even though they had never talked about it, the idea of leaving the Jedi Order had crossed his mind.

“Come on,” she told him. “If everyone’s going to think we’re having an affair anyway, we might as well have one.”

#cut scenes and concept writing #ryloth dream au tag #(one of those cases where the concept name is NOT representative of the actual content. it happens.) #as always comments are appreciated

[echoes-of-the-clockwork]

Book One: Gold (Prompto x Reader) Chapter XIX

A/n: So, the laws of physics are broken twice in this chapter to add some dramatic flare to it. Just wanted to say in case I get some comments that say, "That's not how physics works." Besides that, I hope you all enjoy this next chapter! Love you all!!! ••••••••••••••••••••

It was the day of the rite. Gladio, Ignis, Prompto, and (Y/n) were rushing around the city as Lady Lunafreya gave her speech. They went door to door, telling everyone to evacuate the city. Some families were more stubborn than others, but they hadn't had an issue just yet. Eventually, the group went their separate ways to cover more ground. Gladio went west, Ignis traveler north, Prompto wandered south, and (Y/n) took it upon herself to evacuate the people on the eastern side of the city.

The spirit came to a halt in front of the many houses within the eastern part of Altissia. The low humming of engines caught her attention. Looking up, she saw imperial drop ships and dreadnoughts flying overhead. They were heading in the direction of the altar. She knew Lady Lunafreya's speech ended and it was about time for the Oracle to call upon Leviathan. She could hear the boys through her earpiece, but she ignored them and continued evacuating the city.

Knocking on one door, (Y/n) waited for someone to answer. A few seconds later, a woman opened the door. The guardian told her to gather her family and head to the docks. She watched the woman run rampantly around her house to tell her family. The girl didn't leave until she saw the entire family evacuate the house and run towards the docks.

Moving on to the house next door, she saw the family was already prepared to leave. Apparently, word was spreading around the city and people were evacuating left and right without needing to be told. It made her job easier and she was able to ensure everyone was heading towards the docks.

While assisting one family with an elderly woman who could barely walk, (Y/n) was forced to use a fire spell when imperial troopers ran towards the civilians with their guns raised. She yelled at them to keep running before attacking the adversaries. Using the Creator's Blade, she sliced through the imperial forces. None of the soldiers were able to harm any of the civilians due to her killing them swiftly.

Making a mad dash to the docks, the guardian ensured everyone safely made it onto the boats. She assisted a single mother with a baby in her arms aboard one of the boats and helped a father find the son he became separated from because of the large crowd.

People continued to jump aboard the many ships at the docks until each and every one was at max capacity. As the boats left the docks, (Y/n)'s attention was drawn in the direction of the altar when a high-pitched screech echoed throughout Altissia. From where she stood, she could see the mighty Leviathan. A faint tinge of pain courses through her body, knowing it was Brahma reacting to the Tidemother's appearance.

Her attention was torn away from the Tidemother as more imperial troopers and MTs closed in on the docks. The ships had yet to reach open waters and were still in danger. She waved her hand, forming a wall of fire between the docks and the enemies. "You bastards got another thing coming if you think I'm going to let you through."

The imperial troopers raised their guns, aiming them at her. She prepared herself to attack the moment they pulled the triggers. However, at the sound of gunshots, she lowered her blade as she watched the enemies fall one by one. As the final MT fell without her lifting a finger, it revealed the person who came to her aid.

Prompto rushed over to the spirit when the imperial forces were dead. Dispelling his pistol, he caught his breath. As he did, she saw his panicked and worried expression. Her curiosity and concern skyrocketed, placing a hand on his back to help calm him. "I've never seen you so out of breath before. What's wrong, Prom?"

"I...we...Gladio..." He panted, but was unable to form a proper sentence. Pressing a hand against his chest, he took a few deep breaths to fill his lungs. Once his breathing was back to normal, he grabbed her upper arms. "We've gotta get out of here. That thing that guy told us about yesterday... It's real."

Her golden eyes widened. "You saw it?"

"I-I don't even know where to begin on how to describe it..." Prompto's grip on her arms tightened. "Gladio and I saw it when some imperial soldiers captured a guardian and..and..."

(Y/n) already knew what he was going to say. "So I was right. They're using the rite as a distraction to feed guardians to that thing."

"W-We tried to help, but we were too late."

Suddenly, they heard an ominous hiss echo around them. Prompto's eyes widen in horror while the spirit looks around in confusion. Without hesitating, the boy dragged (Y/n) away from the docks and towards an abandoned building with shattered windows. No doubt the damage was caused by the empire when they started prowling the streets for civilians. By the layout of the building, they assumed it was a restaurant. Tables with white clothes and wooden chairs were strewn about. Broken glass was scattered across the floor along with silverware.

Hiding behind the counter of the bar, Prompto reclined his back against the stained wood with (Y/n) sitting between his legs. Her back was pressed against his chest, his arms wound around her waist. She was still utterly confused at the situation. "Prompto, what is—?" One of his hands shot up and covered her mouth.

"It's here," he whispered in her ear.

Hearing the ominous hiss they heard earlier, their bodies tensed up. Prompto hugged (Y/n) closer when realizing the sound was coming from outside the building. Then, they heard what sounded like a mix between a snarl and hiss. Along with the strange noise, they could hear the chairs and tables moving around. Even the shards of broken glass scraping against the floor was part of the cacophony. A few of the bottles that were on top of the bar were knocked off. Their bodies were hit with the shrapnels of glass and what little alcohol remained inside the now shattered bottles.

(Y/n)'s eyes darted to the side when she spotted movement. There was a tentacle-like appendage snaking around the side of the bar. She also took note of the other two black tendrils trying to reach over the bar. She held her breath as the one tentacle sneaking around from the side was closing in on their location. She retracted her foot carefully and quietly when the appendage was nearing it.

Prompto saw how close the tendril was coming and tried to slide further away without making any noise. However, his attention was drawn to the tentacle that was protruding over the bar and making its way down near his arm. He wondered what they could do to escape before either of them were grabbed.

The moment one tentacle slid across her foot and up her leg, (Y/n) grabbed one of the many bottles of liquor stored under the bar and tossed it onto the tentacle. Once the bottle shattered and spilled alcohol all over the appendage, she ignited it with a simple fire spell. As the creature attached to the other end of the tentacles wailed out in pain and tried to put the fire out, she yanked Prompto's hand off her mouth and dragged him to his feet. She pulled him out of the tattered restaurant through the back entrance and they ran in the opposite direction.

Once they were safely away from the creature, the couple caught their breath. (Y/n) glances at the street they ran down to see the daemon wasn't following them. "Okay, so that thing has tentacles. Nice to know. I really don't wanna see what's on the other end of them, though..."

"I-I can't believe that thing's able to survive in the sunlight..." Prompto panted.

"If this "devourer" is absorbing the power of guardians, that's probably why the sunlight isn't killing it."

Prompto was silent for a few seconds before stating what they should do next. "We gotta find Gladio and Iggy." He contacted the two older boys using the earpiece. Once learning where to go, they ran through the streets once again.

Because of the raging Tidemother, parts of Altissia were crumbling. Many streets were impassible due to piles of debris and other parts of the city were inaccessible because the bridges that connected the districts were destroyed.

Eventually, Prompto and (Y/n) reconvened with Gladio. They stood in the middle of a plaza with a demolished fountain. The shield's nose scrunched up. "You two smell like a bar."

"We had a run in with the empire's new creation," (Y/n) explained. "We wound up hiding in a restaurant behind the bar."

"That thing's a monstrosity."

"I haven't seen its face yet, but I hope I never do."

"Let's forget about that thing for now and focus on finding Iggy."

The trio weaves through the streets of Altissia, destroying any imperial forces they stumble across. Before long, they rendezvous with Ignis on one of the few bridges left intact from the empire and Leviathan. While they were discussing what to do next since none of them could reach Noctis over the comms, a drop ship was knocked out of the sky and came hurtling towards them. Prompto immediately grabbed (Y/n) and ran to avoid being killed. Gladio followed the couple just in time as the drop ship crashed into the bridge. The three were unscathed, but they were unable to find Ignis. They desperately tried to contact the strategist, but weren't able to reach him.

After a few minutes of trying over and over again, Ignis finally responded. They were relieved he was safe. After discussing what to do next, they knew they needed to head to the altar. Unfortunately, their one way across to the next district was destroyed.

"Guess we're gonna need to find a different way across," Prompto said.

"Hey, short stuff." Gladio turned to the guardian. "Think you could jump across with us on your back?"

(Y/n) analyzed the size of the gap before answering. "I think I can." In seconds, she transformed. Prompto and Gladio climbed onto her back. Once they were on, she backed up a little ways to get a running start. With enough speed, she leapt over the destroyer portion of the bridge and landed safely on the other side. The boys slid off her back so she could return to her human form.

"Nice job," Gladio commented. "Now let's get our asses to the altar."

Their long journey through the crumbling streets of Altissia began. They lost count of how many times they had to find a new route because of the destroyed streets and buildings. Many imperial forces pulled their journey to a screeching halt, blocking their way forward. Like before, they disposed of the enemies before continuing to the altar.

While trying to find a way into another district, the trio stumbled upon a collapsed bridge. Unlike the other bridges they'd seen, this one had a slither of it remaining that was big enough for them to cross. Gladio, being the heaviest out of the three, volunteered to go first. If it could support his weight, (Y/n) and Prompto would have no issues crossing.

Once Gladio safely made it across, Prompto was the next to trek across the narrow slither of bridge followed by (Y/n). The marksman made it to the other side and turned around to ensure the guardian was close behind.

The moment she reached the halfway point, a black tendril shot out of the water from below. It wrapped around her leg and dragged her into the water. She couldn't even scream with how fast it had grabbed and yanked her into the water below. Prompto and Gladio watched in horror. Without thinking, the blonde jumps into the water. The shield shouted his name as he dove beneath the surface.

(Y/n) struggled against the tendril as it dragged her deeper into the water. She glanced down and saw the horror that was the devourer. The daemon has three skeletal heads with a prolonged spine-like body. What appeared to be a large rib cage spanned from its upper back to its lower back. It has two sets of skeletal arms and a pair of boney legs. Attached to its ribcage appeared to be a black sack. From the black sack extended an esophagus-like appendage that attached to each of the heads. The tentacles she was all too familiar with by now protruded from the black sack. What caught her attention the most was the myriads of gemstones embedded in its skeletal body. They were the gemstones of all the guardians it had consumed.

Struggling against the tentacle wrapped around her leg, (Y/n) desperately tried to free herself as she was dragged closer and closer towards the middle head. Its jaw was open wide and ready to devour her. She wasn't sure if she'd die from being eaten or drowning.

As that dark thought crossed her mind, an arm wrapped around her waist. She saw it was Prompto. In his other hand, he wielded his pistol. He aimed at the tentacle and pulled the trigger. The bullet whizzed through the water and pierced the tendril. Black blood oozed from the bullet wound, coloring the water around it. The devourer's three mouths opened as its tentacle retracted, releasing the guardian.

Prompto and (Y/n) quickly swam back to the surface before either of them could be grabbed. Breaking through the surface, they both coughed. After a small coughing fit, they swam over to where Gladio was waiting for them. The shield helped them out of the water.

(Y/n) collapsed against the ground on her back, coughing up some more water. Her chest rose and fell rapidly after expelling the last remnants of water in her lungs. She stared up at the sky as it darkened with storm clouds. Prompto was on his knees beside her. He peered down into her face, placing one of his hands on her cheek. "A-Are you okay, (Y/n)?"

She nodded with a smile. "Yeah, all thanks to you."

Gladio leant down slightly and smacked the marksman on the back. "Never knew you had the balls to pull off a stunt like that."

Prompto glanced over his shoulder at the brute. "There's no way I was gonna let that thing have her."

"The boy's become a man," Gladio chortled.

With Prompto's help, (Y/n) got back to her feet. Her eyes were focused on the water. She could see the devourer swimming to the surface. "We better get out of here." The moment she lifted her gaze, she spotted a figure on the other side of the destroyed bridge. It was Callyx, standing with his sword drawn and a smirk in his face. Her fingers twitched, ready to summon the Creator's Blade at any second. However, the male guardian didn't engage. He simply turned his back and walked away.

At that exact moment, the devourer's three heads broke through the surface of the water with an eerie wail. The trio quickly spun on their heels and made a mad dash away from the artificial daemon. They thought they were safe until they heard the devourer closing in on them. Even before they saw the daemon, its tentacles shot forward.

(Y/n) quickly spun around and conjured a large fireball. She tossed it at the appendages and forced them to retreat when each one was ignited with bright flames. She then summoned Brahma's sword and stood her ground. Prompto and Gladio noticed her fighting stance and ceased running.

"The hell're you doing?!" Gladio bellowed angrily.

"At this rate, we'll lead this thing all the way to the altar," she calmly replied.

"Can the three of us really stop that thing?" Prompto asked.

"You two are going to the altar. I'll deal with this monstrosity."

"And how're you planning to do that, short stuff?" Gladio inquired.

She smirked at him from over her shoulder. "Some divine intervention should do the trick."

Prompto wanted to protest and stay behind with her. He swallowed his words, clenching his fists tightly before unfurling them. "Just...be careful, (Y/n)."

She smiled at him. "I will."

The two boys ran off. (Y/n) focused her attention on the devourer as it began charging towards her. Inhaling deeply, she exhaled as she jammed the Creator's Blade into the ground and summoned Brahma. The moment her body was no longer hers, she dispelled all her worries and let the Astral deal with the daemon.

Brahma's form towered across the skyline of Altissia. Although he was smaller in size than Titan, his power was immeasurable. He saw the threat the devourer posed not only to guardians, but to the True King—Noctis. He loomed over the artificial creation and easily blocked any attack the daemon sent his way. The god thought it would be a simple extermination job, but he was soon joined by a large fleet of imperial air ships. Their hatches lowered, revealing the powerful weapons they used against the Archaean.

The god tried to focus on one target, but he was quickly becoming overwhelmed as more imperial drop ships flanked him. As he swatted a few of the airships out of the sky, the devourer used its large and heavy form to tackle the deity. It clawed at Brahma's chest, trying to reach (Y/n) who was residing within. The god smacked the artificial daemon off his body and returned to his full stature. Just as he did, the empire shot numerous of harpoons at him. He managed to pry one out of his body, but a powerful electrical shock courses through his body. He could feel the guardian within his chest cry out in pain.

Brahma conjured a meteor and sent it hurtling towards one of the airships. Next, he grabbed one of the harpoons in his body and yanked it out. Instead of releasing it, he used its against the empire and caused the ship it was tethered to to knock into the other ships.

With the airships now gone, the deity focused his attention back onto the devourer. Searching for the monstrosity, he found it just in time for it to pounce on him again. This time, his body was knocked into the ocean. Sinking deeper and deeper, he fought against the daemon. What happened next shocked the creator god. Leviathan emerged from the deep and aided him in battle. The Tidemother snapped her jaw around the devourer and swam to the depths with it.

Because of his lengthy battle underwater, his power was diminished and (Y/n) was drowning. His body was becoming weak and wasn't able to protect her any longer. As he was about to reach the surface, his body vanished. The girl who acted as his vessel was unconscious, her body slowly sinking into the ocean.

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#ffxv #ffxv x reader #final fantasy xv #final fantasy xv x reader #prompto argentum #prompto x reader #prompto argentum x reader

[aerynwrites]

The Hidden

Chapter Two: The Connection

Author’s Note: please let me know what you all think! do you like this so far? hate it? any and all feedback is very much appreciated. Let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist!

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Cursing and fighting.

Chapters: One, Two (you’re here), Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight

//

It didn’t tale you and the Mandalorian long to reach your small village, a mere hour walk from where his ship was parked. He had offered to fly you all there to make it quicker, but you refused, not wanting to draw attention to your location and you didn’t know if there was enough space to land.

Dyn took in his surroundings as the trio walked into the small jungle village. The first thing he noticed were the guards posted on the outskirts of camp, and he felt his own guard go up slightly but was quickly appeased as the guard waved calmly to you.

“Welcome back (Y/N)!” the woman said cheerily before spotting the Mandalorian and her eyes narrowed cautiously, “Who do you have there?”

You chuckled and gestured to him, “Just some tourists I saved from the pair of Chroigs we’ve been dealing with.” You teased as you nudged his arm playfully.

He brushed you off as the guard laughed, “Well, hopefully you scared them off for good.” She looked towards the back of the camp at a group of farmers picking through a destroyed field, “They destroyed half our crop last night,” she scowled, “They’ve been braver than usual.”

You put a comforting hand on her shoulder, “We’ll figure it out Ariah,” you remove your hand and motion for the man to follow you as you start to walk further into the village, “we always do!” you call over your shoulder.

Dyn hears the woman grunt in response before he follows you into a small elevated hut you had clambered up the stairs into. He couldn’t get his mind off those beasts, how have you all survived this long with them alive and prowling around? He’s brought from his thoughts as you unbuckle your utility belt and hang it on a hook before looking back at him spreading your arms a wide smile on your face.

“Home sweet home.”

Dyn looks around the humble abode momentarily. There’s not much to the square wooden hut, just a few trunks for storage, windows on each of the walls the gauzy curtains fluttering slightly in the breeze, and then two hammocks hanging from the ceiling. But no beds.

Even without seeing his face you can sense his confusion and hesitance at the situation. You rub the back of your neck sheepishly and shift from foot to foot.

“I’m sorry it’s not much, and about the hammocks,” You lightly tug the woven fabric, “it’s just with all the bugs and stuff we have to sleep off the ground and then no one has a full kitchen since we all –“

“It’s fine.” He states.

You stop your rambling and look up at him and nod your head, “Okay.” You shove your hands into the pockets of your pants when he doesn’t say anything else before sighing loudly.

“Well I guess I’ll get out of your hair and let you settle in” you walk towards the door to leave the two alone before his voice stops you once more.

“I can help you.”

His voice startles you every time, as ashamed as you are to admit it so soon, it’s weirdly attractive. A low and husky yet mechanical sound each time he talks through his mask. You turn to face him slightly, “what?”

“I can help you with those…Chroigs.”

You tilt your head slightly, “Wasn’t I the one who helped you earlier?” you smirked.

The man sighed, “I was surprised,” he defended, “And I also had the kid with me. If we can come up with a structured plan, I can help you get rid of them.”

You raised your head slightly taking in what he said. Could he really help you? He had weapons, a ship and very nice beskar armor, all things you’re sure he didn’t get without work.

“Who are you anyway?” you question, curiosity getting the best of you, “I mean you’re obviously out of your element, but you seem more than capable. So, I just want to know how a Mandalorian, one of the best fighters in the galaxy, ended up in the middle of nowhere with a child.”

At the mention of the child you looked down at the small figure in his arms only to find him staring straight at you, a curious look on its face. For some reason in that moment you felt an invisible connection to this small creature.

“it’s not important.” he avoided the question and interrupted your thoughts.

As much as his avoidance bothered you, you were shrugged and turned to exit the house once more, “I’ll be outside at the farm if you need anything.”

//

Dyn watched you exit, wariness still nagging at his mind. He wasn’t used to this. This caring and hospitable nature from others. For the most part everyone he’s seen recently has tried to kill him. He liked this. While he wasn’t completely sure they were out of danger yet, he could get used to the idea of laying low for a while. He watched as the little kid waddled around the small hut, curiously touching everything he could. He starts to carefully unpack their belongings stowing them in an empty trunk he spotted near one of the hammocks.

Soon after he had unpacked, he was about to get the kid and find you at the farm, but a loud commotion from outside caught his attention. He quickly picked up the child and strode out of the home towards the loud voices. He saw a small group of people surrounding a large man who was yelling at a much smaller woman, who he soon realized to be you.

“What were you thinking? Bringing a stranger into our home?” the man yells, it didn’t take a genius for Dyn to put the pieces together as to who the argument was about.

He starts to walk closer to the group as you jab your staff into the tall man’s chest, “Because Jaleer, he needed help! We’ve never turned away people in need.” You spit.

“No, we haven’t turned people away. But that’s a Mandalorian! They are nothing but killers and bounty hunters only out to help themselves, He’s going to bring nothing but trouble.” The man argued standing taller to tower over you even more.

While some of what the man said was true, Dyn couldn’t help the small sting he felt at the man’s words. Is that all anyone thought of him?

Jaleer’s words had angered you, your voice was raised to a considerably higher level, “No Jaleer! He’s…different. He’s not like that!” you defended.

“You’ve known him for a couple hours (Y/N) you know nothing about him or why he’s here.”

As this point the man, Jaleer, as Dyn had learned, glanced around him and spotted the man in the gleaming beskar armor. Jaleer shoved through the crowd roughly and stalked towards him. Dyn quickly set the kid on a box a few feet away before standing to face the man.

While the Mandalorian was tall, Jaleer still towered over him; a wall of pure muscle, black patterned tattoos covering his arms and a distrusting, angry sneer covering his face. However, despite the height difference, the man in question stands unmoving as Jaleer jabs an accusing finger at him.

“Why are you here Mandalorian?”

“I don’t think that’s any of your concern.” He replies coolly.

Jaleer takes a threatening step forward, “wrong answer.”

Dyn sees the man move to lunge at him but he is swift to move out of the way blocking the blow easily as he steps to the side. The large man stumbles as his momentum moves him forward but turns to face the Mandalorian once more, not keen on being made a fool of. Dyn just tilts his head in a condescending manner. Jaleer lets out an angry grunt before he grabs a staff similar to yours from his back and swings it down with much force towards the bounty hunter. Dyn lunges to the side, narrowly missing the weapon as it whistles past his head and strikes the ground with a thud. Before Jaleer can recover Dyn grasps the staff and rips it from the larger man’s grip. He spins around and knocks the man’s feet from underneath him in one fluid movement. Jaleer lets out a breathless grunt as he topples to the ground, wind ripped from his lungs.

The Mandalorian turns to face the crowd, seeing you standing at the forefront mouth agape at the quick an efficient way he took out the largest man in the village.

“I am not here to cause any trouble,” he states, “I am just here to help in exchange for shelter and food. I was attacked by the same beasts that plague your village and I will help you get rid of them for good.” The man looks from you, who has a small smile on your face, back to Jaleer who has finally stood from his place on the ground.

He offers the staff back to the man who snatches it from his grip angrily before jabbing it in his direction.

“This doesn’t change anything Mando, I still don’t trust you as far as I can throw you.” He seethes.

The Mandalorian just shrugs as he turns to pick up the child once more, “Which isn’t very far from what I can tell.” He mutters to himself.

Jaleer mutters and turns to you once more, “You better watch where you step around here girly, I still don’t trust you either.”

You roll your eyes and shove past the burly man, “Drop it Jaleer. I’ve earned my keep.”

You hear a loud huff and then fading footsteps as you walk over to the Mandalorian, “I’m sorry about him,” you apologize, “he’s a jerk.”

“Thank you.” Dyn says as you both walk back to your hut.

You turn to him as you reach your door, a confused look adorning your features, “What for?”

He shrugs lightly, “For defending me.”

You smile and rest your hand on his arm gently, trying to ignore the small spark you feel, “of course, you didn’t deserve what he said. Jaleer is just a jackass who is overprotective of his people.”

He just nods before climbing the steps of your hovel, you are following closely behind as dusk begins to settle on the encampment. When you walk in you remove one of the hammocks from the ceiling and start to walk it into a back room he hadn’t noticed before. You push the curtain aside to enter before rehanging the hammock and coming back into the main room.

“You can sleep in there if you’d like,” you offer, “again it’s not much but I know your people like your privacy and the whole - “ you pause to gesture vaguely as your face and head, “helmet thing.” You finish awkwardly.

He nods in thanks and asks, “What did Jaleer mean when he said he still doesn’t trust you?”

You sigh,nand lean against the counter, “I’m not originally from the planet,” you offer tentatively, “so when I landed here as a teenager I came across this village and eventually earned my place here. well, with most people anyway.”

you pull at the cloak around your shoulders, removing the heavy fabric and toss it absentmindedly over a nearby chest. feeling suffocated by the fabric and the topic of the conversation.

“Jaleer is the self-imposed ‘leader’“ you mimic quotation marks with your fingers, “of the village. I’ve never really told them my background so he still doesn't fully trust me even though the others have accepted me as one of them.” you shrug as you finish your explanation.

“What is your background?” Dyn asks without thinking, mentally kicking himself as he notices your change in body language.

You tense slightly at the question, not expecting it from the usually un-inquisitive man and open your mouth to give some vague answer, but a small whispery yawn interrupts you. Both of your attentions are drawn to the child still in the man’s arms. You seem to startle slightly, remembering something as you turn around a few times looking for the item on your mind. Dyn watches as you let out a quiet ‘ah-ha!’ and pull a small basket from underneath the small counter and grab some spare cloth from a nearby trunk neatly tucking it into the basket.

“For the kid,” you explain as you walk to the back room once more, the Mandalorian following closely behind.

You set the basket down in the corner of the room before turning to leave, accidentally running right into the bounty hunter. You gasp as your forehead connects with the cool metal of his chest plate and take a step back a blush creeping up your cheeks.

“Sorry, I wasn’t- “you cut yourself off, and look to the child in his arms, “I can uh, put him in his bed real quick” you offer, trying to distract from the situaion you put yourself in.

You see the man tense up slightly and mentally kick yourself, “I just meant-“ you wave behind you to the bed, “Since I’m over here you know…” you trailed off, looking anywhere but the man in front of you, still overwhelmed by the lack of space between you two.

You are about to slip past him to escape when you seem him offer the small bundle to you. You hesitantly reach out and accept the child and are once again met with an instant connection as you hold him and gaze at him. his eyes are closed, and his little mouth is slightly parted as he breaths slowly, sleep having overcome him. You smile sweetly as you run a finger over his large ears. He is seriously so cute. You are suddenly aware once again of the closeness of your guest as he clears his throat.

You take in a deep breath and turn around to place the child gently in the basket. As you stand up, he whimpers slightly in his sleep and seems to reach out as if searching for something before settling once again. You turn back around, careful not to run into the Mandalorian again but instead of standing you see him sitting in the hammock. You smile at him and move to leave the room pulling the curtain aside. You hesitate before you completely exit and turn to face the man behind you.

“What he said wasn’t true you know.” You say quietly.

You see the man tilt his head slightly and continue as he remains silent.

“What Jaleer said earlier,” you explain, “I don’t think you’re just some bounty hunter or killer.” You look over at the sleeping child once more, “The kid proves that.” you state firmly as you glance back at the child thoughtfully.

you turn back to the Mandalorian and give a small smile, “Goodnight Mando.”

Dyn watches stunned as you leave the room, the green curtain swishing closed behind you. You continue to surprise him. He smiles a small smile and slowly removes his helmet once he is sure you won’t return. He slips out of his armor and gear and settles into the surprisingly comfortable hammock and relaxes for the first time in a long time.

As sleep starts to take over him the only thing he can think of is the fact that he likes the name ‘Mando’ on your lips a whole lot more than he expected.

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x reader #dyn jarren x reader #dyn jarren #baby yoda #star wars

[aquajules]

K I D N A P P E D   B Y   A   P I R A T E    C A P T I V A T E D   B Y   A   P R I N C E ,   P A R T   I

Romanogers - Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov  ↳ enemies to lovers/pirate captain & crown prince au

for @xo-stardust720​

Long ago, across sparkling blue waters of fathomless oceans, nestled between a rather sizable forest, stood a fairly large kingdom ruled since the beginning of its time by the prosperous Rogers' family line. Most loyal to the throne was the ever faithful Romanov family who served dutifully to each new ruler. All was well and peaceable within the kingdom for centuries until one fateful summer’s evening.

Twenty-two-year-old Natalia Romanov could remember the day as if it had happened yesterday. Fourteen years ago, when Nat was just eight years-old, her parents were wrongfully accused of treason and the whole Romanov family, including anyone related, was sentenced to death by order of King Joseph.

Awaiting her time to end, Nat watched with growing horror as one by one each Romanov relation from eldest to youngest was executed. She felt numb as she watched the guards lead her mother away to her demise. As she brushed away indignant tears that had trickled down her face, she felt a timid tug on her dress from behind. Turning, she was met with a rather small, frail looking boy around her age with unruly blonde hair, releasing his slight grip on her dress, he raised a finger to his lips and held out a cloak the color of his brilliant ocean blue eyes; he indicated for Nat to slip on the garment and quietly follow him.

Heart pounding and pulse racing, Nat gripped the boy’s hand tightly as they snuck out unnoticed and swiftly headed towards the huge merchant ships docked down at the crowded port where gentle waves lapped at the sides of each ship.

Crouched down behind several large crates near the docks, the boy struggling to catch his breath persuaded Nat to stow away onto one of the merchant ships about to leave the port; he informed her not to return for quite some time until the whole ordeal had been blown over and but forgotten.

Turning to the boy, Nat reached forward and embraced him whilst whispering her thanks. Startled, the boy hesitated before patting her back awkwardly. Pulling away, Nat kept the tears that burned her eyes and threatened to fall at bay while a brief smile ghosted her lips before a determined look settled on her features. Cautiously peeking around the stack of boxes, she saw a clear opening for her to sneak aboard. She turned back towards where the boy was crouched behind her only to find no one there but a piece of folded paper.

Quickly glancing around, Nat picked up the paper and unfolded it. A soft gasp escaped her lips as her eyes settled on the beautiful sketch of her solemn gaze with the words inked below in beautiful cursive script, Until We Meet Again. Folding the paper and tucking it into her apron pocket, Nat snuck aboard the ship and thus began her life at sea.

For several years, life with the merchants was serene, but when Nat turned sixteen bad luck seemed to strike them at every turn, until finally it all ended when pirates overtook the ship. Only Nat was saved alive because of her wits and quick thinking, disguising herself as a gentleman and bearing the name Nathaniel Rushman, Nat negotiated with her captors and soon earned her keep as one of them.

It didn’t take Nat much time at all to learn the ways of a pirate and soon became the youngest female pirate captain to sail the seven seas. Aboard her magnificent ship, The Black Widow, Nat and her crew of loyal companions prowled the vast ocean, preying upon the innocent.

Fueled by the anger, resentment and pure hatred for King Joseph she had kept bottled up inside her for years, Nat mainly plundered ships sailing the royal flag. She’d taunt the opposing captains before claiming their lives with a swift plunge of her feared sword, she’d strip the ship of anything valuable and loot the precious cargo, always sparing a few shipmates lives to return to their king with word of Nat’s plundering. She was a force of nature to be reckoned with, but another summer’s evening would yet again change the course of Nat’s life.

Upon boarding a simple merchants ship, Nat was met by opposition of an unlikely figure, a rather frail-looking young man wielded a sword and attempted to halt Nat in her pirating. Staring into his brilliant ocean blue eyes burning with deficiency, Nat was struck by a sense of familiarity.

Trying to use Nat’s dumbfoundedness to his advantage, the young man attempted to attack her while she was taken aback, but Nat easily parried his blow away and with one quick maneuver had the man pinned to the deck, her deadly sword lightly touching his chest. The captain and crew of the merchant ship had drawn their weapons during the exchange, upon which Nat’s first mate confirmed that the man she had taken down was none other than the crown prince, Steven Rogers.

Struggling to keep her wrath hidden, Nat threatened the opposing crew to drop their weapons and surrender or say goodbye to their prince. Reluctantly they threw their swords down by her feet and surrendered to their fate. Having concocted a malicious plan, Nat took only the prince and the opposing captain, James Barnes, as her prisoners, and mercifully let the rest of the crew live with a message to take straight back to their king:

If you truly love your son, you will come in search for him yourself and pay a great price, your life for his. If you choose not to save your own flesh and blood, the Rogers family line will end with him. I’ll be waiting.

The days following were filled with relentless strife and quarrels between Nat and Steve, and yet Nat began to develop feelings for the proud and stubborn prince. Confused and irritated with these unfamiliar developing feelings, Nat concealed her growing attraction towards Steve and instead continued to squabble with him.

As the days slowly drifted into weeks and weeks to months, Steve’s ever present illness continued to worsen and eventually confined him to bed. Soon after, James privately approached Nat and explained to her where they had been headed before she’d interfered, he told her about the tales of a beautiful mythical island shrouded in magic where a mysterious doctor could heal anyone and anything, if Steve didn’t make it there soon, James feared that the next few days would surely be Steve’s last. Feeling torn between letting Steve go or keeping him, Nat wrestled with the decision for the rest of the day.

Later in the evening, she stepped down into Steve’s cabin and worriedly watched as he slept restlessly with labored breath. Nat replaced the damp cloth on his fevered brow with a fresh one and straightened his blankets. As she stepped away, she heard a muffled thud on the floor, looking down she saw Steve’s journal near her feet. Reaching down to pick it up, Nat stopped short as she stared at the pages the journal had opened to, her unmistakable figure was inked on the worn pages and a beautiful flowing cursive script underneath had Nat unknowingly hold her breath as she brought the journal closer to the dim flickering candlelight, something about the handwriting was strangely familiar… could it be?

With trembling hands, Nat reached into the breast pocket of her coat and slowly pulled out the folded paper, worn and tattered from age and salty sea waters, that she was given over fourteen years ago. With bated breath, she unfolded the paper and gently placed it next to the open journal. Although his handwriting had improved over the years, it was still the same flowing script and the similarities between the sketches were uncanny. Steve was undoubtedly the little boy who had rescued her from an inevitable demise all those years ago.

This overwhelming discovery ultimately finalized her decision, and with a heavy heart she sent James and Steve off to the magical island the following morning without making her romantic feelings for Steve known to him, hoping that one day she would meet him again.

#marvel #mcu #romanogers #smolonov #natasha romanoff #steve rogers #pre serum steve #romanogers au series #romanogers au #royal au #pirate au #pirate captain & crown prince au #pirate natasha #prince steve #kidnapped by a pirate captivated by a prince #gift for #xo-stardust720 #gift from #aquajules #aquajules photoset #my photoset

[anchanted-one]

The One where Arro Met Nine A Tale of Arro and Lana

Rishi

Lana held Arro’s head in her lap, patting his hair gently as the medicine finally began to take effect. She hated using tranquilizers; not only was there always that danger of overdose, there was also the risk of addiction. And her lover had already skirted that danger once before.

But there could be no helping it any longer. The screams in his head had reduced him to a whimpering mess. Ever since the return of his memories as a Sith tool, he had become less functional by the day. He could no longer clear his mind, no longer reach out to the Force, no longer seek even the respite of the trance that Force users could--short term--use as a substitute for sleep.

Instead, he spent his days and nights with a fog around his head, slowing his wits and his movements alike. He endlessly offered whispered apologies to one of the many victims of his own personal demon, Lord Trykhgar.

And of course, he rarely ever slept. On the rare occasions that raw exhaustion put him to sleep, he would wake up screaming.

After six weeks like this, he was in such bad shape that her medical training had insisted on the drug.

He sighed as he finally drifted off to sleep, and Lana could finally feel the tortured tangle of emotions at the back of her own head find rest at last. She brushed his hair with her fingers, then kissed his cheek.

The torment had stopped. No more pain, no more voices, no more hallucinations.

Peace. Blessed peace!

She reveled in the quiet, astonished at how bad it had gotten. The difference between the extremes was stark. On this end, her own mind had also been hampered by his ailments. The link which at first had thrilled her as if it were her firstborn babe now affected her own mental health, and she hadn't realized just how severe it was until now.

It would be so easy to fall victim to the drug's false promise of a fix. To use it more and more regularly so that Arro--and she herself--could find a respite from the voices. But that was a slippery hole.

A very small part of her agreed with Arro when he told her she didn't have to suffer alongside him. She didn't owe him that. No one did. That tiny traitorous part wanted to find a way to reseal her mind and leave Arro to fend for himself.

But the larger part of her could no more excise Arro from her psyche than it could stop breathing. She loved him with a deep passion she had never known. He meant everything to her. Everything.

Come hell or high water, she would stay with him.

And thanks to their bond, she knew that this was exactly how he felt about her. She could feel his love, like a warm infusion of morning sunlight, like dewdrops catching the rays and scattering a colorful rainbow in her heart. Like a music that she could never tire of. Like life itself.

If it had been her in crisis, he would have been as steadfast an ally in her recovery as she was being in his.

She sighed contentedly. It felt so good to be able to trust someone like this. Her life had revolved around secrets, deception. Her best friend had unknowingly abused Lana’s trust on a number of occasions, it just went with the job. Arro was someone who she knew--even without the bond--she could trust.

A kind voice spoke to her, muted and echoing as though coming across a long tunnel. "So he's asleep at last?"

Lana almost howled in shock. She looked around foolishly, but there was no one there.

"I'm over here," The voice said, and a translucent body of soft mist and light formed in the empty space before her. A Force Ghost. She knew that face, had seen it featured prominently in every one of Arro's biographies.

"Jedi Master Orgus Din," she stated.

"Lana Beniko," he answered with a nod. "You've been taking good care of my former Padawan."

Lana shrugged. "He's mine now. I'm not giving him back."

"You look angry."

"Oh, you can tell?" she snarled softly. "Do you see how badly your little revelation is affecting Arro? I'm all for conquering your demons, but in his case we could have made an exception! And the timing couldn't have been poorer! It--"

"Actually, the timing couldn't have been better," Orgus said. "Because for the first time in his life, he has someone nearby who can and will help him through the darkness. No one else can do for him what you are. Not me, not Kira, not Satele, and not even Rana Tao'ven. Only you." Lana swelled up a little at that. "And make no mistake. He has to confront it. And Lord Trykhgar. For He is returning."

Lana jumped. "Trykhgar?"

The ghost's words sounded forced. "The Sith Emperor. He stirs again."

Lana felt the cold grip of dread seize her stomach. She knew He was still out there of course. "How long do we have?"

"I can't answer that one," Orgus admitted. "My perception of time is… Different on his end. What I do know is that Arro will be forced to face Him again. And if the time ever comes for a final epic clash, he will need to defeat this enemy first. He will need to conquer Trykhgar." He made as if to brush Arro’s hair, but his fingers passed through his scalp like a hologram. The air around the virtual point of contact shimmered blue. "Ah, my poor, young friend. If only you could have the quiet life you deserve."

Lana’s outrage completely melted as she studied his expression. "You love him," she said.

"Yes," he answered simply. "Is that so strange?"

She had to consider before saying "No, not as much as I once believed."

All throughout her career she had heard Jedi preach a dispassionate, ascetic way of life. They scoffed at the Sith wherever they faced them, saying that their use of emotions to seek greater power was a brittle route to power. Even moderates like Darths Prowle and Nox had lost patience with Jedi preaching their nonsense.

Arro, she thought, was different. He wasn't afraid to feel, and even less to admit it. He had told her on a number of occasions that he didn't fit in among the Jedi, which had been something she knew from her own days in Intelligence.

But was he unique? Satele Shan--Grandmaster of the Jedi Order herself--had fallen in love. Theron and Jasme were proof of that, not only the fact they existed, but also the care Satele demonstrably but subtly took to look out for them. Surely there were more such Jedi out there?

"Even after I died, I've watched him, you know. I watched Bengel too. I remember how you were there for him when no one else was."

Lana's jaw dropped. She choked on her words, unable to speak. "What do you--" she finally got out.

The ghost smiled. "You know exactly what I mean," he said simply. "I remember Cipher Nine. I remember what you did for him. And I remember that day when you--or she, if you'd prefer--finally chose to meet him, and give him hope. Do you remember?"

She chewed on her lip, hesitating before nodding. She did. Oh maker, but she did.

*

Ii Juupa Cantina, Tatooine. Some years ago.

It was a pleasant enough evening here in Mos Osnoe, Mercei supposed. The crowd in the Cantina was the affable kind of loud. Drunken singing, loud laughter, the lively music the Bith were playing on their clarinets, the cheers for the Twi’lek dancers’ sensuous performance, and the bell-like sounds of glasses clinking was much friendlier in this town than in many cantinas she’d had the misfortune of visiting lately.

She was coming to love this quaint settlement; one could never have suspected that there was one on Tatooine that wasn’t a haven for criminals, violent or otherwise. People frequenting this place were usually the honest citizen type. At least so far as Tatooine went.

So calm, so peaceful. No blaster fire or bombs or poison darts or daggers or any sort of lethal weapon aimed in her direction. It was perfect!

She did hope that the guest she was expecting chose not to upset that careful peace. She was fairly confident that he wouldn’t: she had been observing him closely for ten months now, and was certain that she already knew him better than he did.

She took a sip of her broth, then took a bite out of her caramelized pork pot pie. She chewed slowly, trying to identify the herbs used in the seasoning. Brown thyme of course, which was grown in the nearby moisture farms. Nutmeg, cinnamon, bayleaf, cloves. And something else… But what was it? She just couldn’t figure it out!

The door opened and a new patron walked in, air blowers coming online to both rid him of the sand on his clothes, as well as to prevent sand from entering the Cantina while the door was open. He wore a light colored poncho covered in the zigzagging motif that was common on the planet. Underneath the cloak, his clothes were the typical, utilitarian workman’s outfit; breathable and loose fitting; perfect for long hours in the Tatooine’s twin desert suns. He carried only a long staff in his gloved hand, with no visible weapons on his belt or boot. It took a trained eye to find the Lightsaber hidden in a holster up the loose sleeve.

The young Jedi Knight, Arro.

He had never seen her before, but his eyes instantly turned and found hers. She smiled and raised her glass slightly. She watched as he casually made his way through the crowd to her, admiring the grace in his step. A master swordsman by training despite his young age, the young Knight had incorporated the agile footwork from the Lightsaber forms into his step, as many swordsmen did.

However, while most walked like dangerous predators, Arro walked like a dancer: friendly, inviting. And while there was nothing overt about it, many eyes nevertheless turned to watch his hips, his legs, his flow. She noticed a regular patron lick her lips hungrily, and understood the sentiment: watching this teenager walk across a room was enough to set hearts racing.

He eventually reached her, and stood beside the empty seat opposite. She gave him a thumbs up, and he sat down at the silent invitation.

“My name is Arro,” he said softly. Close to, he looked half-starved, malnourished. “Of the Jedi Order. But you already knew that. You’ve been watching me for at least five months now, haven’t you?”

“What? Really?” she smiled. Well, by habit there was always a disconcertingly wide smile on her face, carefully arranged to exude maximum confidence while instilling just a hint of unease in the ones who saw her. “A Cipher Agent is far too busy to observe a single target for extended lengths of time. There’s always some plot or other that needs my attention.”

“A Cipher Agent?” he asked, eyes narrowing quizzically.

“We’re ghosts, enigmas, riddles,” she whispered, gesticulating dramatically. “And we live to keep the Empire safe from hostile ghosts, enigmas, and riddles.” She finished the rest of her drink in one go, then signalled to the waitress, catching her eye. “Honni, would you mind getting me a refill?” she called. “Oh, and you can serve that second dish too.”

The Twi’lek woman nodded sourly. She was always a bit sour, but she never messed up an order, and never gave anyone lip unless they were being truly obnoxious and the guard too was busy to intervene. Mercei liked her.

“You can call me ‘Sei’, by the way,” she informed the Jedi Knight, who was staring at her suspiciously.

“Well then, Cipher Agent Sei,” he said. “Why have you been watching me?”

“Maybe I simply like what I see?” she teased lightly. He didn't blush, but he did smile back. A neutral, courteous smile, the sort you saw from politicians and diplomats.

“I’m not that interesting.”

“Really? I suppose it was just my imagination that so many heads turned when you sauntered in.”

“You’re avoiding the question.”

“Oh, so you spotted that already!” she winked. “I am a spy, my young friend. Avoiding straight answers is in the job description. Section One Aurek. C’mon, let’s play around a little! Like you did with Watcher One!”

He bowed his head, uncertain. “That was a field mission,” he said. “This… well I’m not used to a verbal sparring ground.”

“Then maybe you can use me as the starting point,” she smiled sweetly. “I guarantee that this kind of thing will come in handy someday. As handy a skill as saber mastery.”

His smile became a tad uncertain, then he inhaled. His eyes darted behind closed lids as he searched for what to say. Minutes ticked by, and Honni appeared by their side, carrying the covered tray Mercei had requested.

“Why didn’t you run? You could have. I'd never have found you, if you'd a mind to evade me." His eyes widened as Mercei pulled off the lid. "Is that…?"

"Four cheese pasta!" she smiled at him. "Your favorite! And an orange soda. My treat. Dig in! You're looking even thinner in the flesh. You need the extra bites."

Uncertainly he took a bite, eyes widening with pleasure. "This tastes so good!"

"This establishment uses a unique blend of spices in most of their meals," her eyes widened as a thought occurred to her. "Oh, maybe you can identify them for me?"

"Can't think," he said, eagerly taking a second bite. "Can't tell. All I can say is that this just tastes so good!"

She deflated slightly. Well, growing up on a farm world didn't automatically make one an expert in identifying herbs, apparently.

"And you're not worried its poisoned?"

"No," he said, his voice amused. “Good at spotting that kind of threats.”

“Yeah, the Force does throw a wrench in our plans every once in a while,” she acknowledged glumly. “Every time I have to fight one it’s so kriffing I all but run screaming!”

“Liar,” he accused, though he was smiling again. “You’ve beaten Force users before.”

“A couple of times,” she admitted. “It’d be so much easier if I had a Lightsaber.”

He searched her face. “The Lightsaber is just window dressing. A distraction from our true advantage.”

“The Force again?” she asked, wrinkling her nose, allowing her smile to wry.

“Honestly? The Force is all-powerful and all, but few can use it to its full potential. Power, yes, but also imagination. I’d say the best thing anyone can bring to the table is a sharp mind.”

“That’s a surprise!” she laughed. “Isn’t that the sort of thing that can get you kicked out?”

“I don’t know what can get us kicked out,” he said, eyes clouding.

“Maybe you should do what Kira proposed,” she suggested. “Install a buzzer on Master Shan’s seat.” He gave her a very guarded look that quickly melted back into amusement. They'd get along just fine, Mercei thought.

“You’ve done quite a thorough job, haven’t you?”

“You certainly didn’t make it easy,” she tutted. “Like you said, you’re not very interesting. I had to work to keep my attention!” She took on a dramatic pose of exaggerated sorrow, and he chuckled again.

But he went quiet for a bit after that, and she was content letting him. For the talk of expulsion had got him thinking, Mercei suspected, about his loss of control during the fight with Angral. Well, that was an understatement. He had taken hold of his self control and crushed it like a bug. He had chosen to become vengeance incarnate, utterly devastating Angral and his retinue: Mercei had managed to arrive in time to see that.

She watched him enjoy his meal with a small sense of satisfaction. She had been watching this boy on the Emperor's own orders, and had felt pity for the young man. He had been forced to shoulder burdens he was not quite ready for, and it had broken him. She had seen his attempt to continue living after what he had witnessed--the death of a world, his homeworld--and was reminded that this could have been her. If she had been a hair slower, Jadus would have gotten the launch codes for his Eradicators from his puppet. If she'd had just a little less nerve she may have gone ahead with Watcher Two's desperate plan to allow Jadus a small victory just to earn some breathing room. And she'd have been responsible for millions of deaths across the Empire. Watching him suffer had often made her think This could have been me.

She spent days watching as he screamed out at night, begging for his ghosts to forgive him. Or fainting from the severity of his panic attacks. Or the steadily decreasing amounts of food he ate each day. The pain in his eyes when he thought no one was looking.

She had actually intervened in a few of his attempts to end his own life. Why though? He was the enemy. A Jedi at that. And broken people were a credit a dozen these days--some of them even broken by her own blood-soaked hand. So why was she so concerned for his well-being in particular?

… Because the Emperor himself is interested in this one, she thought. That alone makes him… Special.

No that wasn't completely true.

She sighed. Maybe it was time to talk business.

"You've gotten Imperial Intelligence's interest, boy. I know there was no helping it. No one else was available to meet that threat. But a sixteen year-old defeating one of the Empire's most prominent Darths? Foiling a plot seven years in the making? Sniffing out one of our best spies? Anyone would see that you pose a potential threat."

"Why send a Cipher though?" he frowned. "Aren't you a valuable, limited resource?"

Clever boy. She almost wished she could tell him the truth.

"You can see then, just how dangerous a threat we fear you are? And we weren't wholly unjustified. You were admittedly distracted before your rehabilitation, but afterwards you always knew I was looking. The first few times I saw you turn glare at me right through my scope from two miles away, I thought I was done for!"

"I could sense your eyes," he admitted. "But knew you weren't an immediate danger."

"Very lucky for me," she nodded. "If I'd been ordered to assassinate you, I'm sure you would have chased me down. Especially on Coruscant. But you always let me go. Until today."

"Yes," he agreed. "Today I did seek you out. But you didn’t run. If you had, I'd never have found you."

"Luckily for me, I was certain that you wouldn't kill me. Or even hinder me. We're not at war after all, and I wasn't doing anything wrong."

"But you still…"

"Yes," she sighed. "My mission is over. I've been recalled to Dromund Kaas. I leave tomorrow. Why did I stay? I guess I've grown a bit fond of you." She was surprised to hear herself admit it. "I watched you go through it all, you know. The PTSD, the panic attacks." She pursed her lips. "That suicide attempt."

He gasped. "You were the one who cut me down! You were the one who called TeeSeven!"

"Indeed. I don't know why though. I guess it's like I said. I grew fond of you, and didn't want to watch you end your life while I could stop it. I guess I'm human after all." She sniffed. "There, I said it. But please can you not tell anyone what a softie I am?"

His mouth was hanging open. He closed it with effort. "After you saved my life? That is the least I can do to repay you. Please, can I do anything else? I really am so grateful…"

She wondered if she should plant a seed, to get him to consider defecting. The way she'd gotten Havoc Squad. But looking at his honest, open face, she found she couldn't do it.

Damn it, you really have grown too fond of him! Lucky for her she wasn't as much older than him as she pretended. She could admit her attraction to him--at least to herself--without feeling revulsion. She sighed. At least she could have his respect. She found herself appreciating having that consolation prize.

"My job," she said instead. "It twists us up. Makes us cold, cynical, calculating. Ruthless..." Voicing that thought aloud made her pause. Even through Korriban she'd maintained her code of ethics, hammered into her by her father since her childhood. To admit that she might end up losing them anyway… She cleared her throat. "I might have to do some terrible things to protect my people. And that's if… if I even live that long. I'd appreciate it if there was someone out there who remembered that I was a person. Please… no matter what becomes of me, can you promise to remember me as a woman who didn't turn away, someone who could even feel compelled to help an enemy? Someone with compassion? Can you do that for me?"

His eyes were round as saucers, filled with sorrow. But he nodded. He didn't even hesitate. "I swear," he said. "I'll never forget what you did for me."

"Thank you," she smiled. Her throat felt a bit tight. What was wrong with her? "I have to go now. Enjoy your meal. Maybe I'll see you again someday?" There really was little more she wished to say. She had to run, she realised. Before her admission of her humanity took root, and caused her to question her choices.

"I'm sure we will," he said. He smiled again, hesitant, tremulous. "I Sense that we will be working together someday."

She waved and walked away. Yes, she could Sense that too… that was a smaller part of why she'd saved him, though of course she could never admit it. Never in a million years.

*

Rishi. Modern day.

Lana was startled back into the present by the Ghost's gentle voice. "Did you know he went on that mission because I reached out to him?"

"He told me that," she confirmed. "He told me that the Council took as proof that he needed to be on Braga's mission…"

"Unavoidable side effect," Orgus shook his head. "No, I told him to go on that mission, so that he'd meet you." He paused as the words sank in. Lana's eyes opened wide.

"Oh my…" She whispered. "Are you telling me…?"

"If he'd stayed on Tython, you'd have been called away before you could meet. Tatooine though. Legitimate Jedi business. Neutral planet, sparsely populated, meaning that you might consider not running. I thought it would be a huge benefit to both of you, if you were to meet."

"But Rana Tao'Ven…"

"I could sense even then, that she wouldn't live too much longer," he admitted. "Besides this wasn't just about him, you know. After you saved his life, got him the help he needed… I grew to deeply admire you. To seek to repay your kindness. I wanted your paths to cross for your benefit as much as his own. Everything else?" he grimaced. "Well, to me, Braga's mission was of less importance. Way less. Especially since I could already sense that it was going to fail, and that Arro would suffer."

Lana was dumbstruck. She just… Couldn't even think.

"I am not that woman anymore," she managed at last.

"Perhaps you are even better," he countered.

"I… I!" she stammered.

Arro stirred in her arms. Comforted her a wave of Calm sailing across their Link. She was startled to know that he could sense her distress even knocked out like this. I love you, his voice whispered in her head. In her soul.

"You don't have to say anything," The ghost said gently.

"Maybe not to you… But I think I want to tell him about that first meeting. That I was… Nine."

*

#swtor #star wars #lana beniko #Hero of Tython #Jedi Knight #Arro

[katsmonsterblog]

Sunflowers in the Cemetery pt 1

OMG okay so... I feel like I have to post this now. If i don’t then this will probably be a full blown novel... and I mean I wouldn’t complain but I have literally been working on this for months. 

So this is a story about two of my OCs :D how they met actually. At over 5k words and 13 pages long, its one of my longest works and I’m so super proud of it you guys.  I came to a stopping point and...While the story isn’t fully done, I’ve decided to make it a part one of however many (pls don’t kill me ;-;) 

Its a bit pg13, mentions of sex and cursing

If you like this then please support me on Ko-fi! And check out my commissions page and my masterlist :) 

Anyways! Enjoy!  

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Music pumped through the speakers around the club, vibrating the wood of the floor and bar, a pulsating beat that made you want to grind and sway and move. Well, the music only helped add to the atmosphere of sex on the dance floor, in truth, there was something else that seemed to be at play here. There weren’t many places like this in a smaller city like this one, and it definitely wasn’t the alcohol that brought the demon here. No, it was definitely the sex. A hand clapped him on the back and took his predatory gaze from the crowd of writhing bodies. “You know Andras, I don’t much like demons in my place of business but for you I’ll always make an exception.” The male beside him was a friend of a friend’s, and his club wasn’t one that especially catered to the supernatural, more a way to get food if you were invited to prowl and were smart about it, though Liam had never expressly liked his kind. “Is it because I’m pretty Liam?” Andras smirked, sipping whiskey that would never get him drunk. “Or is it because when I’m here you make more money than you know what to do with?” He batted his eyes as the vampire laughed, flashing his fangs and then leaning into him. “Both. Are you hungry tonight Andi? Cuz I’m starving..” Liam purred, green eyes flashing red, a spark within the depths, and having little effect on the incubus. Andras in turn smiled, though his own deep blue gaze was hard, and rolled his neck….a tease for the male and a little something more. Around them it seemed like the humans grew frenzied in their grinding, the aura of lust rising. Prince was only a title he had once held, but it was a title and a bloodline in itself and Andras came from a rare breed of Incubi, his power and aura like another part of him. Like breathing. It flowed out over the crowd of humans, heightening their touch, their lust... “Don’t call me Andi….but yes I could most definitely go for.... a bite...” He responded with a wicked smile as he looked out to the crowd once more and caught the shy gaze of adoration on a younger male, human but very willing. Ah he knew that look, one that said, ‘oh please come here and wreck me.’ Who was he to deny that wish? “I’ll catch you later Liam.” He said as he slid off his barstool, the picture of liquid heat and raw sex and ...gods help the multitude of humans he’d burn through tonight. True that he could feed on just the lust in the room, the arousal, but it was like water to a starving man. Empty calories, and not only that but it would take longer, even through chaste touch, as skin to skin heightened his ability to use his power. It was so unsatisfying.

Tonight he wanted a full course meal... ~~~~~~~~~~

It was as dawn was just peeking out over the city that Andras slipped out the door of whatever apartment he’d been in, a lit cigarette in his mouth, and pulled on his leather jacket. Not that he needed it, it wasn’t particularly cold and the rain from the night before had stopped, but he had to blend in. He looked human for all intents and purposes, if only a little punk rock for most people’s tastes, fishnets and leather and piercings. 

He took a deep breath of nicotine and tar, not caring about the smell or taste really, it didn’t harm him, but it took the edge off. The humans he'd left in the apartment upstairs were spent, but alive. They'd likely be drained, and deliciously sore, for a few days.  As much as he was down for cuddles after… he shook himself from those thoughts, frowning and turning towards the street. Humans were clingy...and weak… he couldn’t be around them for long without them being addicted to him. Literally. It wasn’t his ego talking either, humans were known for becoming addicted to the use of his power, to the touch and taste of him, to the point they grew mad and fanatic. He had just decided to disappear, a demon’s way of teleporting that they called ‘smoking out’, when movement caught his eye. 

Really, there weren’t many people up at this time of day, so when he turned to see someone staring at him from across the street, he halted. He couldn’t tell why it shocked him at first, people stared at him a lot, but it had always been lust and awe. This wasn’t that, instead she stared at him as though she were staring through him, like she knew him. She was dressed cute, in cuffed jeans and a sunflower blouse, her hair a mess of red curls and something about her heart shaped face and wide eyes screamed innocence. But as soon as she saw that he was also staring, turned in a hurry with her bike and pedalled off. 

He should leave that alone.. really, because from what he could sense in that instant, she was human. But the way she looked at him, could she somehow see him for what he truly was? He blew out a cloud of smoke and tossed the cigarette. This was fucking stupid, it was just some fucking human.

But even as he thought that, he followed after her.

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

Holy cow biscuits. He saw her.... Didn’t he? She knew him, the demon.. Well she didn’t know him really.. But she’d seen him. She’d seen him before she ever saw him. It was difficult to describe, how she knew things before they happened, how faces stuck in her mind only for her to come across them in real life. How her powers were a curse, not a gift, and often not helpful at all.Especially when it all but invited the demon to see her too...

Cassie winced at her own train of thought as she coasted her bike around the corner and looked both ways before she rode across the street to the one lane road that would take her to her favorite painting spot. Forest Grove Cemetery was old, one that the city had stopped using a while back, but it was still visited and kept clean, filled with old statuary and wildflowers and moss. It was odd, but she always felt at peace here. Today, she had all day to paint, she’d brought her materials and a backpack of packed lunch, snacks and water,  but now… 

She looked behind her as she parked her bike near the entrance gate, sure that she’d do so at some point and see ...him. It was crazy… but then when was her life sane? She didn’t ask to have these powers. Pulling out the huge drawing pad that was mostly sketched and colored, she set herself on one of the only benches in the cemetery and set to work, following lines that were already there and some that she just knew should be. 

“Funny spot for a sunflower, a cemetery.” The voice wrapped around her, honey toned and ...well it might have been soothing, or alluring even, except it scared the holy bejeezus out of her. Whipping around, she clutched her book to her chest and  froze. It was him, the demon from before, leaned against the tree watching her. He looked for all intents and purposes, human.. But she could see past his glamour magic. An Incubus demon. His skin a deep blue, black horns curling back and up away from his face, a face that looked both softly sensual and so sharply beautiful that it hurt, and was dotted by silver piercings. The horns seemed more prominent where his hair was shaved on the sides, and where his human mask had blue eyes so dark they looked black, now his eyes were like the night sky, full blackness with a swirling blue galaxy that almost made you drown in them. He was… sinnfully gorgeous, built like a swimmer with narrow hips and a lean frame... And he was powerful...she could sense it. The only issues she had right at the moment was the cigarette that dangled from his hands as he pulled it from a pack in his jacket and lit up. He watched her curiously, smirk on his lips when she hadn't replied, only stared. “What’s the matter, sunflower? Cat got your tongue?” he asked.

“No..” She voiced, hesitating when he raised a brow at her. She frowned at him. “Those things smell awful by the way...” She commented, knowing that since he was a demon, he probably didn’t care much about it possibly affecting his health. Heck it probably did nothing for him besides maybe making him seem ’cool’. He blinked at her, before he smirked again and snuffed out the cigarette, chuckling. “You can see through my disguise, can’t you?” He gestured at his body, “Not many humans can, although you’re not the first…” He sighed, straightening out and stretching like a big cat. He reminded her of some large jungle cat with the way his lithe blue tail swished back and forth lazily… maybe he meant more with that analogy of his. She wondered what kind of demon he was, she could feel his power, like warm breath over her skin. It was… nice, but why could she feel it? She’d been around other demons, and fae, and while they held power, most were uninterested in her, didn’t see her even. Was he pushing it to touch her? Was there supposed to be an effect? It was odd, Andras let his power pool around her and yet… she simply stared at him, up close he could see the freckles across her face. But there was no feeling of lust, and her hazel green eyes didn’t linger over him, her pupils didn’t dilate in want... she wasn’t affected by him. That fact hit him like a ton of bricks. Not that there weren’t beings that held immunity to incubus powers, though it was a small range especially for one of his lineage and status but.. for a human to have no effect well, that was a rare thing. “You gonna answer me sunflower?”

“Yes, I can see what you are..” She spoke softly, trailing off. She was nervous, he could see it in the way her fingers played with the ridges of her book. But it was the nerves of a potential prey likely to bolt, it wasn’t anticipation he saw normally with females. She licked her lips as he stepped forward. “Look, I didn’t mean to offend you or anything by staring..You caught my eye…. Not that I mean anything like that by the way..”

“No.. staring’s fine.” He grinned, interrupting her ramblings. He was trying to read her, appear.. charming, playful...she tilted her head a bit and he continued. “I was curious to see what you were up to all alone, like I said, a cemetery is an odd place for a sunflower.” He stepped closer. Her eyes widened a little at that and she made to stand up, leaning away. Okay he probably could have worded that better.

“Why do you..” She started, then looked down at her shirt and flushed a little. “I’m not a sunflower. I’m sketching and I don’t want any trouble so...you can  be on your way Mister Demon.” She mumbled, and Andras was confused. When she didn’t say anything else, it was clear that she didn’t want anything to do with him...still that didn’t deter him. 

He stepped closer again and it brought her gaze up in a hurry… was she… scared of him? “It's not everyday I get shooed away by a pretty girl. I’m not gonna hurt you.. In fact, I’m pretty sure you’d like me if you tried.” He purred, winking and putting on a smile. “At least tell me your name?” 

This time she did stand up, shoving her padbook into her bag with a small frown in her lips. He was being.. a creep. Was this normal for an Incubus? Didn’t he know that commenting to a girl that she was all alone and secluded with some stranger with every potential to hurt her was… scary?  Again, she felt his warm power and realized that he was.. Flirting..? Trying to seduce her? Heat crept up her cheeks, not only by realizing what he was doing but also for what he kept calling her. And she really didn’t feel like giving him her name. Clearing her throat, she looked down at her stuff then back to him. “Listen.. I’m sorry mister demon but… I didn’t ask to be able to see the real you.. And I’m not interested in…”  she gestured her hands, “yeah, so you can ...just not... with the names and flirting. I just came here to sketch and I’m sure you have much more fun things to do like parties and whatnot... so..yeah...” She trailed off again, hesitating in her speech. She didn’t want to be mean, or piss him off...right now he seemed laid back, non threatening. But that could change. Grabbing her backpack she turned away in a hurry. 

Andras blinked, a frown of his own turning to a confused scowl. “Hey! Wait a minute.. Hey, sunflower..!” His voice caught her before she could get far and she paused, turning to him with another frown.  “I don’t mean to be a pest. If it’ll help, I’ll tell you my name?” He asked, whatever small awkwardness he held melting away. She had to admit, he was charming. 

“What’s your name then?” She asked, and he seemed to brighten up. 

“Andras.” He answered her, giving a mock bow that seemed to be more sensual than romantic. “And what can I call you? If not a sunflower?” he chuckled. She paused again and then smirked. 

“See ya around then.. Andras.” Not answering and then she was off, heading down the path and disappearing off into the cemetery. He was… stunned. And he didn’t even get her name! He huffed as he pulled out another cigarette and stopped, scoffing a laugh when her words in his head came back. Smells bad? He never thought to care about that, and most people didn’t comment on it. 

He thought about going after her again, but instead, he turned and stopped when something caught his eye....  On the bench where she had been sitting was a folded piece of paper, stuck as if she’d dropped it. He shoved his cigarettes back into his pocket, walking over to pick it up.... and smiled. Looks like fate had other plans for his runaway sunflower...and what the hell, he liked the chase. 

Disappearing in a cloud of blue tinted smoke, he set out to make some plans.

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

Her bike tires skidded to a halt in front of what used to be an old book store. A few months back they’d renovated it into some sort of building for art classes and after working overtime, she’d signed up to take one. The flyer, that she couldn’t for the life of her remember where she put it, had said that each week was a different theme or lesson and it seemed...exciting. Maybe it would inspire her to draw something other than..

Again she shook herself from whatever weird dreams she’d been having that week and parked her bike against the building. It was a little later in the evening but it seemed to be the only time she could do with her work schedule, she just hoped she wasn’t too late. As she headed inside though, she was relieved to see a smaller gathering, probably ten or fifteen people, all standing around mingling. The room was nicely lit and a warmer temperature than outside, to the right of the room was a circle of chairs and easels set up around what looked like a platform. That made her pause...in her dream last night-

“Hey! Welcome to the class, you must be Cassie?” A middle aged woman with white blonde hair came up to her, breaking her thoughts. 

“Ah! Yes ma’am.” She answered politely, feeling nervous when others turned her way. She wasn’t as dressed up today, since she’d be painting, she wore a big shirt that had star trek next generation on it and some ripped jeans, both already had paint on it. All that coupled with her beanie and reading glasses, made her look like a nerd and a boy...a look she liked but often felt out of place around others. 

“Great, thanks for joining us! My name is Sofia, we spoke on the phone? We were expecting another person but they canceled on us. Still, For today’s class, we’ll be painting a live nude model, I mentioned this right?” She asked and Cass assured her that yes she knew of what this week entailed. Though, something in her brain nagged at her, why did this particular room look so familiar?

Sofia had her fill out a form, and then called the class to order, no time for deja vu thoughts when she got to set up her paints for her easel, grabbing her pencil to sketch first. It was then, she found out, why the room looked so familiar. Sofia introduced the model with a flush on her cheeks, and a hush fell over the room as Andras walked in from behind a screen she hadn’t noticed at the back of the room. She froze in place while the others awed over him, he was just as gorgeous as before but.. what hit her most... was that this moment was her dream last night.. She had seen this, him, in her dreams, dreamt of tracing his lines with her pencils.. her fingers... He noticed her with a breathtaking smile as he introduced himself and stepped onto the platform. He was once again in his human guise, and yet she could see past it if she tried hard enough. And then he was shedding his robe, and while the idea of sex had never appealed to her, she felt... something in her stir as she took him in...he was a work of art. 

“Alright Andras, give us a comfortable, natural pose and hold it. We’ll break when you need to.” Again, Sofia’s voice cut through her thoughts and Andras posed as she explained that they were going to take everyone’s unique style in the form of real life sketches first. But Cassie’s mind was already going, and so was her hand.

She always went to a different place when drawing, and when painting, but here it was like the two of them were the only in the room. He hadn’t chosen a provocative pose, one arm bent up and the other reaching down, he looked like a greek god, or a statute of one. She sketched the lines of his face, the curve of his mouth, his hair, shaved on the sides and wild on top, black and soft, and each piercing in his ear, nose and lips. His upper body was studded, small raised patterns of skin, like scars made purposefully, they traveled across his chest and down his stomach. For some reason, drawing him, drawing him in hard lines seemed wrong, so instead she used soft curves and watched him come to life on canvas...and that made him more real than him standing no less than ten feet away. 

Before she knew it, Miss Sofia was calling for a break and Andras was stretching, moving again and completely comfortable with being in the nude. There was chatter, a few people flocking to Andras to ask him questions as he robed up and Sofia gave him a bottle of water. Cass...stayed seated. She followed the lines of her pencil, letting it complete the curves and edges that was him. Somehow she’d managed to capture some sort of emotion on his face, mischievous, wistful, lusting… distant. 

“Do sunflowers always sit by themselves?” His voice startled her and just as she whipped her head up to see him standing behind her...she caught his reaction to her drawing. His face said he was impressed, but there was also.. A softer something in his face.   He was so...tall, she mused. He seemed to shake himself though and smile down at her. “You have some wicked talent.” That got her to flush red more than any of his attempted flirting had. “Thank you.. Um, could you not call me sunflower?” She asked, dropping her gaze as he took the seat beside her. She wasn’t even wearing that shirt anymore.

“Not a chance.” He grinned, “You never told me your name. But I stilI found you.~” he sang with a small laugh. She frowned at that, found her? 

“You were looking for me?” She tilted her head, confused, “Why?” She didn’t leave the cemetery that day.. He could have followed her, but he didn’t.

Andras wondered how she could make such an innocent gesture look so ...cute, and it was surprising to him that he thought something like that. He sipped his water and sat back with a smirk. It was easy for him to stretch out, feel all of the eyes in the room on him. But hers wasn’t in want. “Because you’re a bit of a mystery. Won’t tell me your name and hang out in graveyards? And you can see me. The real me.” He watched again as her hazel eyes dropped to her hands. What was she hiding? And again while he could feel the lust off of  everyone in the room, from the instructor to the only two males, all of them lighting up on his radar, she alone was a blank spot. All of the others' works had seemed innately sexual but hers...there was something different. 

This time she rolled her eyes a little. “Cass, my name is Cass, or Cassie if you like.” she said, her eyes lifting up, looking through him more than at him. “Did you seriously sign up as the model to get to me?” She asked and when she put it so bluntly…he guessed that he was being a bit stalkerish.

“What can I say? You left an impression on me.” He smiled. It was just then that the instructor lady got his attention, asking if he was ready to continue their session. He said he was, glancing once more to Cass, and stood up. Looking at Cassie's painting and then back up to her, he gave another dazzling grin, “Paint me like one of your french girls?” He asked. 

And she laughed, head back and eyes closed, a loud sound like he’d caught her off guard. Something in Andras liked that, that he’d made her laugh, and he gave her another smile as he stepped up to the platform and shed the robe again. 

He resumed his pose, able to look right at her, though she seemed once again to just be looking through him. 

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

Weeks followed and for some reason it bothered Andras that he hadn’t seen her since then. She’d only shown up at the one art class, and when he asked about her, the instructor woman had even said she’d left her painting to be displayed. He declined sticking around after that… after he bought the painting with enough cash to buy the studio. One reason why it had been weeks was because he had to feed, at least once or twice a week depending on the “meal” available but when he wasn’t doing so, he was.. quite literally hanging around, bored out of his skull and hoping… to see her. He went back to the cemetery several times, but no luck. Out of all the flowers there, not a single one was the sunflower he wanted to see. 

He scrubbed a hand down his face with a growl as he walked down the street, when did he become such a fucking sap? Why was he still hung up on one human woman? She obviously didn't want to be around him. And again...humans were predictable, weak...except he didn't think that she fell into that category. Still, he felt wondrously bored out of his skull and a bored demon wasn’t something anyone wanted. Maybe it was time to let this all go, move on to another city. 

“Andras?” The voice halted his steps, and he turned to see...Cass. She was standing in the doorway of a small pottery shop that was wedged in between two larger buildings, a tote bag tucked under one arm and a curious expression on her face. Well.. fate had other plans once again. “Are you stalking me again?” She asked, raising a suspicious brow in his direction and stepping off the step of the shop.  

“No.” He winced, because...had he been? Kinda. Maybe. Okay he had been. “Well not really,” He amended, “I've been hoping to find you again but no such luck. But fate has led me to my sunflower.” He smiled, charming and cheesy all at once. He watched her frown, pursing her lips a bit though her eyes rolled and he caught amusement as she moved past him to a small alleyway where her bike was parked. 

“It’s not sunflower, remember? It’s Cass. And fate is stupid.” She grumbled, pouting her lips. He wondered why the sour tone. Was that really how she felt about fate, not that he could fault her on that really,  or was it his presence that made her frown like that. He couldn’t have that.

“My apologies, Cass.” He smiled again and followed after her as she set her bag into the basket on the front of the bike. “And yeah, fate is a tricky mistress. I'll give you that. And yet just when I'd given up, you popped up in my sights. So that must count for something right?” 

She eyed him, relaxing a touch and sighing a little. “I guess so.” Though she felt otherwise on the matter for sure… still it wasn’t his fault. Not really, especially when she had other reasons he didn’t even know of, that made her stance on the cruelty of fate more concrete. She was stolen from her thoughts by the warmth touching her again, his power? Or did he just radiate that? Looking up, she could see him watching her, his curious dark eyes… it didn’t take much to see past the illusion he held of being human, and the real him was just as flawless. Why was he so interested in her? He could have.. Anyone. Was it her odd powers that lured him?

She shook her head. “So, you’ve found me...again, what now? I told you that I’m not interested in flirting.” She said, her tone was softer, unsure of what he wanted but wanting to remind him, casual sex was off the table. 

“Hey, even I know that no means no. I’m not here to seduce you,” and then his smile turned to a grin, his voice a lower purr. “Not unless you want me to try. I do like the chase.” he teased, quick to drop that tone and she was grateful. “but really, I just feel drawn to you. And though I’m not sure why yet, I’d like to find out.” He admitted, shifting again from the role of wicked incubus, that bit of awkwardness she’d glimpsed before coming back. “There’s something there, I know it..” He said and Cass found herself taking a breath to steady herself. Of course there was something more...but she couldn't tell him that. Could she? 

“You hungry?” Cass blurted before she lost courage, picking at the edges of the tote bag in her bike basket. This was stupid.. She didn’t get involved with demons...But Andras grinned. “And if I am?” he asked, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans, hanging low on his hips. She looked at him then, and again, no lust or want or arousal, but nerves. 

Cass shoved at her hair and pushed a headband back through it, away from her face. “I just got off work,” She pointed to the pottery shop, “We could.. grab a bite to eat? And maybe talk.” She probably sounded stupid.

“Alright, let’s go then.” Andras said and stepped in close. She barely had time to protest before he was pushing her bike down the street, her trying to keep up with his long strides.

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

Cass dipped another fry into her milkshake, kicking her feet because she was too short in the booth to touch… which he found cute really. She was more than cute, she held a softer beauty, one that felt feminine… yet not, he couldn’t describe it. He’d been with males and females, and those that felt they were neither, both or in between.. Bodies that were warm and soft or hard and rugged...he liked them all. And she was no exception. He had seen first her outer beauty but there was something.. More. Again, it was difficult to describe the pull she held.  “I know that it’s not the most...unbelievable thing, not to people like you.” She said softly, “But I don’t exactly go around broadcasting my… abilities.” She shrugged, munching on her food, glancing around to the only semi busy burger joint. 

“I mean, that’s understandable.. and I did stalk you.” He grinned at her, completely unashamed of his actions apparently. But she smirked, a twitch of her lips that made him notice the dimples she very barely had. “And by the way sunflower, there are no people like me.” he added on, watching her roll her eyes, protesting that she was not a sunflower. “But you are human, and you have... a power to you. A pull… help me understand why that is? I know you didn’t ask me to lunch just because.” He knew that if it had been someone else, his charming smile and sensual allure could have them eating out of his hands, but Cass seemed wary. Like a nervous cat about to be caged, and he didn’t want to scare her off. It felt… awkward, trying to get someone to open up to him with actual… effort. 

Cass seemed to purse her lips in thought, her eyes dropping to what was left of her food, before launching into her life story. She told him about her powers, unstable as they were, how things, demon or otherwise, were always drawn to her and how she had visions that often caused her to black out from the force of them. It was why she rode a bike instead of driving. “My parents didn’t have powers.. in fact they hated that I did and tried to get the church involved.” She winced, very vividly remembering what cruelty they had dealt her. Then there was her sister, a few years older and just… gone one night. She’d said goodbye, a sleepy memory that she tried to hold onto but part of Cassie felt that she’d been abandoned. 

“And you’ve had visions of me?” Andras asked, listening to her as though she weren’t babbling nonsense. A waitress came by, slipping her phone number in with the check, smiling and touching him as though she couldn’t help but to do so, she completely looked Cassie over, which didn’t bother her much. She was used to it for the most part. Andras though, seemed to preen at the attention and tucked her number into his pocket with a wink. It hit her that she’d only seen him as a demon now, she didn’t see his disguise though she knew it was there otherwise the waitress would have freaked. 

“Sort of?” She questioned, mostly herself more than his question. “I’ve seen you.. before I saw you on the street, I mean. In dreams and such. I had a vision where I was just.. happy, and you were there.” A tint of warm pink touched her cheeks when she admitted that. “But for the most part I don’t know how to interpret the things I see. They aren’t always accurate or certain and time changes the outcome so.. I try to avoid it.” She spoke softly now but seemed less tense. 

Andras sat back in the booth. “Well that makes sense. You’re what us.. Other folks would call a Seer.” He’d met more than one and none were ever alike.. and that did explain the pull he had towards her, but not why she had no reaction to him. Cass nodded like she was familiar with the term. “But, have you ever considered finding someone to work with your powers? You’re young but If someone my power level is drawn to you..” He knew that he had meant her no harm but… there were always those that did out there. Cass looked away. 

“I usually outrun them.. When they find me.” She voiced and he frowned. 

“Who’s they?” He asked, though he had an inkling as to who she meant. 

“Demons, fae, vampires once. People who think that I can control this and scare me..” She admitted. She didn’t know why she felt like admitting this to him. She had thought of running from him too. But maybe it was their constant meeting, or maybe.. She did find him charming in a way. Andras paid, though Cassie protested and as he walked her down the street, Cass pushing her bike, he again brought up the idea of seeking someone to help her harness her power. 

“I tried to go to a psychic.. One of those ones that claimed to read fortunes.. But she was a farce.” Cass explained. It had been embarrassing and frustrating to have someone read a premade astrology horoscope to her, not listening once to her problems and seeming irritated for voicing them. She stopped pushing her bike and looked up at him as he stopped too. “Why are you so interested in helping me..?” 

“I can’t let other demons stalk you now, it’s my job.” Andras grinned with a wink, and of course, he was rewarded with a smile. “Look, let me pull some strings. Least I can do is help out my new friend yeah?” He stuck out his hand. At this, she brightened and reached out, shaking his hand. 

“Okay.” She agreed, liking the idea that he could be a friend.

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

Taglist: @doodledream @jellyflux @serenitydusk @sunrisehoneybee @ijwrff @the-dying-red-rose @junepop45 @no-need-to-apply @nickthegiantboi (its not gt but I hope you don’t mind me tagging you)  @scribbles-main-blog @matronofthevoid    @bee-wrecker @spooky-scary-lesbian If I forgot anyone Im so sorry! >.< And if you want to be tagged just let me know!

#My writing #my ocs #fluff! #some mentions of sex #Part 1 #incubus #human

[volganic]

Song of the Spirit

hooo boy finally this chapter is done because its been a pain in my ass

ty liz as always i love you so much for helping me whenever i need it!!!! you really are the biggest mvp

song is translated from its original german, but i wont torture you guys yet with that nonsense...... yet >:^)

[part 1] [part 2] 

Another moon cycle had passed when Link found himself being called to the castle's chambers with orders to return to Death Mountain.  To his surprise, General Impa had taken his word of advice and sent not only a negotiator, but a messenger as well, to gain intel on the witch -- under the condition that the captain accompanied them to their destination in one piece.  A day hadn't even fully passed before the captain ultimately made the decision to have his escorts return to base.

"Are you sure about this, captain?  The general had made it clear that it was imperative that we--" the negotiating party was cut off by Link's mount abruptly turning to halt their own.  His features were knit together tightly with a stern glare; he was not going to repeat himself again.

The two soldiers shared a quick look of doubt between themselves.  As quickly as they had looked to each other, they were back on alert and gave their leader a salute.  They turned their horses around to leave Link to continue on alone.

"It's better without them," he assured himself.  "They're safer at base."  A reclusive dragon like Volga wouldn't take too kindly to more than just one stranger, let alone three in his dwellings.

Link had made it to the neighboring village before nightfall, just in time to gather any more information before heading up to the caves.  He barely managed to stow away his horse into an unused stable before a crowd of people surrounded him, showering him with praise and gratitude for bringing peace to their little town.  Link declined their gifts with a tentative smile; their allegiance to Hyrule was all that was needed.

True to his word, Volga's forces had not been seen prowling about in their streets.  It was a relief to hear that he hadn't lied about his honor.

"You're going back up the mountain? Why  The dragon might get angry!  We aren’t prepared to face his wrath again!"

"It's been peaceful all this time, are you sure it's wise to do that, Mister Hero?"

He left them with their questions unanswered as he waved goodbye.  It didn't take too long to reach the end of the village, coming to the base of the mountain.  A cold shiver ran up his spine.  He wasn't keen on taking another chance at getting lost in the caves again, but it was for the sake of protecting Hyrule.  Inhale, exhale.  He willed himself to relax as he made the short hike up the side of the mountain to the entrance of the Eldin Caves.

This time, he was prepared -- and a little more experienced.

A wave of doubt creeped into his mind on how well this tunic really protected him from the fires and scorching heat inside, but he'd be playing a fool if he wandered into the dragon's lair without any protection again.  He slipped the ruby red tunic on quickly over his head and turned the corner.  He locked eyes with a pair of Dinolfos that guarded the entrance.  Last he had remembered, they weren't Dinolfos but Lizalfos -- and these two were much larger than their counterparts.

The pair took a defensive stance with their weapons drawn as Link approached them cautiously, shrinking in on himself with hands up to present himself as harmless.  The drakes kept their intense stare on the Hylian even as he began to sign to them.  He hooked both of his index fingers together and turned his wrists, alternating their positions. “Friend.” 

The lizards didn't move.

Were they confused?  Did they not know sign language?  Suddenly Link became very unnerved by the situation he found himself in.  The Dinolfos chattered among themselves, still keeping their weapons upright.  If he couldn't communicate with them, how else would he get in?  He promised Volga he wouldn't start or involve him in a war -- and he wasn't going to start by killing the two Dinolfos over a miscommunication.  He cleared his throat while still holding his nonthreatening posture, gaining the pair's twin predatory stares.

"V-V... Volga."

His throat ached.  Link's vocal chords weren't accustomed to much use beyond the bare minimum of simple gestures.  He can't remember the last time he had even spoken a full sentence, much less anyone's name.

The two Dinolfos tilted their heads in sync.  It was an eerie motion, even moreso with their owlish blinking.  This time they seemed to understand, lowering their weapons and shuffling apart to grant entry.  Link let go of the breath he had unconsciously had been holding as he brushed past them with his hands still raised.

That was easy enough.

A sinking feeling pooled into the Hylian's stomach when he entered the cavern, immediately met with a very familiar river of lava.  He mentally prayed to the goddesses that he wouldn't have to repeat the ordeal he went through his last venture through the caves.  This time, there were sounds of more activity: a Lizalfos  scratching there, a Dinolfos roaring there.  If he could see well enough against the bright shine of the fires, he would swear that even their shadows were dancing along the rock walls.  It was comforting to know that he wasn't completely alone -- however, the risks were still there.

He racked his brain for the easiest route back to the crystallized caves.  There was no absolute guarantee that Volga would be back where he had last seen him, but it was worth a shot.  The Hylian ducked into tight corners and behind any sizable boulders he could when a stray reptile came into his view.  He made a mental note that he was going to have to bring materials with him to make a map at some point.  The tunnels seemed to go on forever, opening up into separate rooms that Link knew for sure weren't there last time.

He was brought out of his train of thought when a haunting sound echoed off the tunnel walls, bringing him to turn his head to the direction of the sound.  Clearly the goddesses were pitying him the second time around.

æ d   ɪ d ə m  

Link tore his gaze away from the Lizalfos he had been stalking to break into a sprint.  Now, it wasn't a tune of deception leading to a premature death.  No, this was a lifeline.  He wasn't going to risk repeating his mistakes and getting lost, succumbing to the heat -- he couldn't!  He needed this intel for the sake of protecting Hyrule.  An unknown enemy was a larger threat than the fiery blaze of the Eldin Caves.

æ d   ɪ n f ɪ n ɪ t ə m

The melody became clearer and clearer with every hurried step he took down through the winding tunnels.  The passageways also became tighter and tighter, but the song still hung through the air enough to pull him through the tightest of crawlspaces.  He favored to ignore the alarmed screeches some of the Lizalfos he had run past to focus on the echoes.  It sounded like an entire choir of voices.

ɪ n   m e m ɔ: r ɪə m   k   ʌ n ʌ m  

He came to a screeching halt.  The tunnel opened up into the largest cavern he had ever seen.  Rather than dwelling in the favorable crystal blues, the entire mountain's source of lava seemed to pool here into a lake.  There in the middle of what he could see over the edge he had found himself standing on was the familiar shine of a draconian helmet.  The tall figure stilled, sensing the Hylian's presence.

The song was cut short.

"Come down, boy."

Link hesitated at the sound of the dragon's cool voice.  He didn't realize he had begun to sweat until now, brushing his hand against his forehead.  The aria still buzzed in his eardrums as he willed himself to move, but his legs remained frozen in place.  Even though he knew that he was not in any danger of being eaten, he remembered what a formidable warrior Volga had proven himself to be.  The sound of the other's weapon scratching along the volcanic floor almost made him jump out of his skin.

"Now."

Link did as he was told this time, adrenaline running through his veins to give him control over the rest of his limbs.  As to not keep an impatient dragon waiting, he favored to jump off the edge of the cliff, breaking his fall into a roll.  There was still some hesitation pulling at him as he brushed himself off, a poor attempt to look somewhat presentable as he stood at the dragon knight's side.

"Why have you come back?  I've kept my end of the bargain," he snapped, keeping his eyes ahead into the bubbling magma.  "As you might have even seen, my kin are within the boundaries of the mountain, away from villages Hylian and Goron alike.  You have no reason to return here."

"I'm here about the witch," the Hylian signed, pulling himself away from Volga's side to step into his view.  "Princess Zelda's orders.  I need more intel."

"Have your whelp look for that witch herself.  I've told you everything I know about her.  If that is all you've come for, consider your time wasted."

Link's stern expression cracked.  He's come all this way for nothing?  As if the goddesses couldn't be any crueler-

He snapped his fingers to pull Volga's attention back onto him.  He wasn't going to let himself be dismissed so easily.  "If you can't tell me any more about her, then at least help me prepare for her eventual arrival!"  

"Have you forgotten that I have said my allegiance will not be bought?  I refuse to serve for your arm-"

"Not the army," he interrupted with another snap of his fingers.  "For me."  Link's gaze fell to his feet as they shuffled, planting himself into the ground.  "I'll admit... I was weak last time we met.  I don't know much about being this hero everyone expects me to be, but," he looked up the knight, determination bright in his eyes, "I need to learn from a real warrior.  If you won't do your part by fighting against this witch, show that you respect me by teaching me how to bring her down!"

Volga stared at the Hylian.  He was a fool for venturing into his lair for a second time, prey to his song.  However, there was a potential in him that he could sense had been yet to be used; he surely was fiery enough to dare cross paths with him again.  Maybe, just maybe, should he indulge the poor boy this once, he'd be left out of the sight of the Hyrulean army's sight to live his life without being in the crossfires of any human war.

A low growl rumbled out of Volga's throat.  "Very well.  I will teach you to fight.  However," he warned, "I will not be the one to fight you."  His clawed hand wrapped around the end of his spear to pull it from the ground.  He turned away from the rivers of lava and motioned Link to follow him.  

---

Link blocked another heavy blow with his shield from one of the Dinoflos's sudden strikes.  They were out in the cool night air, the sounds of a heated struggle mixed with clashing steel ringing up into the sky.  Volga had resigned to seat himself off on the sidelines to observe how advanced the Hylian's swordsmanship skills were; from the looks of it, his skills were capped higher than that of any other unlucky member of the Hyrulean forces, but his strikes were still less than deadly.  The knight dug through the pile of rocks he had brought along with them, crushing them in his gauntlets and dusting away the rubble for precious ores that laid within them.

A sharp cry left Link's throat as the Dinoflos chieftain's blunt sword struck his side.  The chieftain took this time to push the Hylian back with a harsh shove with its armored gauntlet, nearly toppling him over the cliff side in success.  The drake looked to its master for another order, allowing the Hylian to pull himself up in a position other than completely vulnerable.

Volga crushed another stone in his hand -- ruby.  "Again," he said flatly, waving them off to deposit the gem into a pile with the others.  The Dinolfos growled and directed its attention back to Link, who was starting to show signs of exhaustion.  He slowly pulled himself up to his feet and drew his white sword back into an attack stance, looking past the chieftain to glare at Volga.

He wasn't even watching.  It annoyed him that the only person who had any decent skill to advise him in his training was treating it like a chore.  His eyes turned back to the drake in front of him, ignoring the feeling of his lungs burning to strike at it with a renewed energy laced in his battle cry.

The dragon's attention was piqued at the sound, followed by the sharp screech of steel meeting steel.  Concealed eyes tore themselves away from the rubble in his claws to observe the sparring.  "No," he frowned, narrowing his eyes as he watched Link slowly beginning to overtake his kin, pushing the large reptile back with a shove of his shielded arm.  Volga listened intently for the sound again, the pair now having gained his undivided attention.

Fire scorched through the air as the chieftain roared in the Hylian's direction, deflected by the shield.  Link planted himself into the ground, counting the seconds before he knew the flames would die out to line himself for a counterattack.  It came soon enough as he let out another fierce cry to strike at the Dinolfos.

Ah, there it is.

Volga stood briskly from his seat to deflect Link's sword from landing on his kin.  The curve of his spear's blade was the only thing blocking his kin from a brutal attack.  The Hylian and the chieftain both gave the dragon a puzzled look.  He withdrew his weapon from Link's and turned to the Dinolfos, nodding his head in dismissal.  The large reptile scrambled up in a hurry and retreated to the dwellings of the cave.

His cold stare then turned to Link who still held his expression of confusion.  It didn't last long across his features as his brows furrowed together, opting to drop his sword and shield at his feet to sign furiously.  "What the hell was that, Volga?  I was about to take him down, but you cut me o-"

"Why do you not use your voice?" he questioned, tone harsh.  His clawed fingers wrapped around the base of Link's chin to keep him still.  "If you wish to lead an army, you must have a voice to lead them with.  Why aren't you using it?"

Link flinched at the barrage of questions with the stinging pain in his chin.  He shook his head slowly, his expression falling sullen.  His fingers curled anxiously as he willed himself to speak with his hands.  "I can't speak.  It's always been that way."

"Liar." The knight released his grip on the Hylian's face as he looked to the moon.  "You heroes are too proud to even allow yourselves the luxury of basic communication.  Either mute, selectively mute, or otherwise," he glared.  "Not everyone will give you the chance to speak with your hands as you so choose."

"You've known the other heroes?" he asked, eyes wide in wonder.  "How does that work?"

"I might not have met them myself, but their stories are passed down through my bloodline as they are passed down to yours.  Some of my ancestors have even had the pleasure of meeting them... either as friend or foe."  He paused to read Link's incredulous expression.  "Though, perhaps your silence isn't but a burden, but a gift -- the hero's spirit seems to take upon a skill of music.  One through the ocarina, another through a harp..." His eyes turned back to the crescent moon above them. 

"I know a gift from the gods when I see it.  You're not blessed with only the Triforce..."  A small grin pulled at the ends of his lips when.  "You have the gift of song."

The Hylian didn't have much time to process or question what was said before he had been turned to face the moon above them.  Volga pressed his hands on the hero's shoulders to keep him grounded in place.  It was slightly -- no, very -- intimidating to feel him so close.  

"I want you to do as I say: relax, close your eyes, and breathe slowly.  I will teach you how to use your voice."

There was no room to argue with the weight of knight's gauntlets on his shoulders.  Link inhaled through his nose sharply and did as he was instructed, eyes shut and shoulders as slack as he could manage it.

"You have much untapped potential that I can see," Volga murmured.  "I am going to sing, and you will finish it; you know this song in the back of your mind, though it is not of any tongue you speak."  His claws sunk into his tunic to keep the Hylian focused on him as he brought his lips to the Hylian's ear.

“Give you a raven's feather, a pledge to our love; Remember me, I'll come back -- ”

“Remember me, you hold it in your hand...”

Link sang breathlessly, suddenly growing stiff in his shoulders.  He braced his left wrist when it began to burn in an intense pain, stilling when the golden glow of the Triforce peeked through the leather.

Goddesses, he was right.

#hyrule warriors #volink #fic

[som3thingcr3ative]

Voluspa Part 4

I didn’t realize that I hadn’t posted since part three! I actually have quite a bit more written that I haven’t posted, so that will tide me over until I can write more hopefully. 

Synopsis: Astrid reaches Kattegat, but the complications from her journey catch up to her: Ivar the Boneless is King, and it is he who she must impress. 

Warnings: Slow burn, Ivar, Language, probably will be NSFW eventually, weapons, blood. You know, Vikings. For this chapter, not much warning needed.

PART 1 2 3 4 5 6

Hvardr stops a few hundred feet shy of the gate into Kattegat. I stare up at the battlements and think of the hours of labor put into everything- all for it to be burned down. It’s a waste. 

And I think. I think about how when I was born, I spoke Old Norse before I spoke English- or Danish, or Norwegian, or any of the other languages I’d learned since then. I think about the curse of sight I’ve been given, and I know it will be of use to me here. 

And then I think of the rune stone and the statue, and I know this is where I’m meant to be. 

So when a guard calls out ‘who’s there’ to me, my voice is even and strong when I reply.

“Astrid Seerschild,” I say. “Here on my own behalf to see King Ivar Ragnarsson.”

And the gates open before me.

I ride Hvardr into the marketplace just inside the entrance to Kattegat. Closing my eyes just briefly, I focus on the energies around me and get the lay of the land. A slave comes up to me, looking for reins or a bridle. 

“You won’t find any tack on him,” I say to the young boy. “And so long as you don’t try to put any on him, he will be good to you. Understand?”

He nods, waiting while I dismount. Not once do his eyes meet mine. 

He scrambles to help me unstrap the harness, but I tell him it’s okay. I gather the harness and my two pelt-wrapped bags and stride confidently toward the great hall- even if my gifts did not allow me to find its energy, I would have followed my ears. It is damn near the noisiest building I’ve ever been near, worse even than the bar back home. 

Just as I reach the doors, three large Vikings block my entrance. 

“What do we have here?” One asks, elbowing the man next to him. I set my jaw and stare defiantly up at him, knowing full well what he thinks I am. “Say, slave, did you steal those clothes?”

“I am not a slave.” I state, drawing myself up to full height. The position pulls my coat back just enough to reveal the glint of my sword at my hip. “And you would do well for yourself to move out of my way.” The third Viking moves to grab my face. I duck and counter, my forearm striking the inside of his elbow. I spin, hitting him on the temple with the pommel of one of my hidden daggers. He drops like a stone. “Now move!” I don’t wait for them to respond: I shoulder-check the two blocking my way and open the doors to the great hall.

A slave girl notices me. Her eyes dart to Einar, and she drops the pitcher of ale she was holding. As it shatters on the floor, the entire hall goes silent. She realizes what she did and panic crosses her face at the thought of her punishment. Her eyes cut to the figure lounging on the throne, but his gaze is locked on me.

I keep my eyes forward, ignoring the slave. It is the best thing I can do for her; give her time to clean up and escape unnoticed while the attention is on me. Einar senses my emotions and prowls beside me, his chest puffed out and tail straight behind him. He does not look any Viking in the eye. Einar knows that I will and have always protected him. He has nothing to fear from these people- It is they who should fear him.

The quiet lets me think. I can see the man’s stunning blue eyes tracing my every movement. I can all but feel the brilliant mind behind those eyes working out who I am and why I am here. I know he is King Ivar, if only because of his legs- legs that are wrapped together. He is taller than most Vikings, who are much taller than any man I’d seen. Broad shoulders, massive biceps, powerful and large hands. 

And I know how to play my cards.

“King Ivar Ragnarsson,” I say, choosing to ignore his legs and instead reaffirm his place as his father’s -the legend’s- son. “Conqueror of christians, slayer of Saxons and the one true ruler of the North lands, I am Astrid. I have come to Kattegat to offer my services to you in the war to come.”

I make sure I still have his attention, and then I dip into a curtsy, gracefully bowing my head. The Vikings around us watch. Their energies surround me, fearful, not trusting. No one curtsies, not here in the north. I have shown myself to be an outsider, because that is what I want them to think of me as. 

“What makes you think I need your help?” Ivar says, his voice sending chills down my spine as I straighten up. My gaze locks with his and I take in his posture. He’d moved, leaning just slightly toward me, his shoulders facing mine. Open, listening. Not nearly as defensive as he’d sounded. A truly ingenious move on his part. He wants me to feel fear, to feel desperate, to hesitate and take his bait. 

But I won’t. I know better. “My King,” I say, relaxing my posture just enough to exude calm. “I come from a family well traveled and I know much about the Saxons; their lands, their rulers, their politics and customs. I know their strategies and their plans.” A brief pause gives him time to understand what I said. He leans back just a tiny bit, and I know I’ve spoken well. “Let me show you what I know, Ivar Ragnarsson, and you will have the upper hand.”

The crowd seems to hold their breath. 

“How do I know you aren’t a Saxon spy?” He questions. I smile graciously.

“I give you my word that I was born and bred in the North. I have no sympathy for the Saxons, nor their god. I have been given a great gift by our gods. Allow me to show you.”

Ivar raises an eyebrow, tilting his head. He thinks for a second, and then he nods. 

“Your seer is here, in this room.” I close my eyes and can hear the Vikings mumble among themselves that he isn’t there; they can’t see him. But I can. “Come forward, Seer.”

My energies touch the Seer’s robes and draw him into the light. The Vikings pound their mugs against the tables, yelling that it proves nothing. I open my eyes and smile. “Your half-brother, Bjorn Ironside will burst through those doors in three- two-”

I point at the entrance, just as Bjorn pushes the doors open with such force that they slam against the wall. The Vikings inside are shocked into silence. 

“The gods speak to me and through me, Ivar Ragnarsson. They have called me here to do their bidding; to uphold the Viking way, to allow you to live and thrive in the change that is to come.” I let my voice drop to a more quiet tone. “I know things that no other knows. I have seen things that no Seer could comprehend. I know these things because I am from a long line of gifted family, trained in the arts of our craft. My body and mind are tied to the very ground this place stands on. Without my knowledge, Ivar Ragnarsson, every last Viking will be killed in no less than a century. The Saxons will infiltrate this land and your raids will fail.” My body thrums with the energy around me and I allow it to take over. My eyes go completely white. “Before the century is over, the proud Vikings will have devolved and split into factions of what used to be. With time, the gods will be forgotten. They have sent me to stop this future from happening.”

Turning, I smirk at Bjorn. “On my journey here, Bjorn and ten others burst out of the woods to attack my wolf. When confronted, Bjorn threatened me to no avail. When asked, he tried to send me the wrong way. Or am I lying, Bjorn Ironside?”

“You’re a monster.” Bjorn growls. “And a liar!”

“She speaks the truth,” the seer interjects, his voice like the hissing of a snake. 

My smirk widens. “Now what does that make you, Ironside?”

“You lied to your King, brother.” Ivar quips, seemingly uninterested- but he’s shifted to a better position for me; one that shows he is siding with me instead of the bad blood. His ice-like gaze slices through Bjorn whose eyes cut between me and the king. He’s caught in his own lie, no matter how insignificant. 

“And you haven’t?” Bjorn shouts, his face going red. Ivar leans back, his shoulders still facing me. Dismissing Bjorn’s threat while starting to trust me. 

The king smirks, raising a hand to trace his lips. “And what lie would that be?” He asks. I can see his devious plot; if Bjorn answers, he will incriminate himself. If he denies it, he makes himself a liar twice over. 

The trap slams shut when Bjorn opens his mouth. “You cannot please a woman, and yet you said you could.”

“Ivar Ragnarsson can please a woman, Bjorn.” I snarl, my eyes flashing white. As the color bleeds back into my iris I realize what I said and nearly recoil, fingers finding Einar’s scruff. 

Bjorn looks at me askance, a self-righteous smirk lifting the corner of his lips. “What proof do you have, outsider?” 

His shoulders lift, chest puffs out. He thinks he’s caught me in a lie- am I an outsider who has never been to Kattegat before or am I a liar who has lain with the king? Which is it?

“I have seen it,” I say, raising my chin just a tad. My fingers leave Einar’s fur and relax at my side. No fear. “The gods have shown me.”

“I like this one,” Ivar muses, leaning forward once again, his eyes on me. “You are welcome here, Astrid. So long as your loyalties remain true, you are my honored guest. Welcome to Kattegat.”

Tag: @tis-itheapplepie @thetwistedqueen @inforapound @wuxiesalt @readsalot73 @themusingkitten @youbloodymadgenius All Ivar tag: @amy8220 @sallydelys

#voluspa #prophecy #voluspa part four #ivar ragnarsson x reader #vikings #ivar x reader #slow burn #som3thingcr3ative writing #som3thingcr3ative #my writing #multichapter fic #time travel #time travel au #x reader #sister wives #changing history #history

[imababblekat]

Imagine Prowl Noticing Your Change In Behavior

~

Prowl stared at the crowd across from him, face plain and not expressive, but inside the Autobot felt much confusion. A small crowd had gathered in the park when he and his team had arrived, something not so unusual, but what was unusual, was the flip in your behavior. Prowl always knew you, his love, to be very shy and soft spoken. You were the person who made friends with the dog at a party, not looking or going out of your way to converse with other people. If someone did approach you, you were polite and spoke back, but always with  nervous jitters in your movements and sometimes voice. To put it simply, you were not an outgoing type of person, and Prowl was perfectly fine with that.

As such, you can imagine his surprise when a flock of humans surrounded you two and your friends, and in that short time period you had seem to become a completely different person. You were chatting it up with multiple people at a time, laughing loudly and eyes wide and bright. Prowl had to do a double take to make sure it was actually you, and not someone wearing the same outfit by coincidence. He's never seen you act this way. Sure, you've laughed loudly and obnoxiously without a care before, but that was always in private with him. In public, you could never let yourself relax enough to just before yourself and not care how you looked to others.

Optic visor glinting in the sunlight, Prowl scanned your form for any hint of how you truly felt about social interactions. Just like anything, nothing could get by the sharp focused ninja bot, and when his gaze landed on your hands, he immediately noticed the slight twitches of your fingers. He hummed, processor going even deeper into thought.

You waved goodbye to the last few people of the crowd, and when finally gone you let out the heaviest sigh of a life time. You could feel your heart racing from all of the interaction you just had, stepping way out of your comfort zone and throwing on a facade of who you were not, got your adrenaline pumping over time. A nap sounded amazing right about now to you, and that's what you planned to do the moment you returned back to base. Turning around to call your robotic love, you jumped with a shriek, not expecting him to be standing right behind you with his arms crossed and a stern gaze.

"Is something wrong (y,n)?", he questioned, helm tilting to the side.

You gulped, shaking your head with a nervous smile.

"O-of course not! Why? Is there something on my face?"

Prowl shook his helm, kneeling down to better hold your gaze and causing you to blush.

"I've never seen you act that way before, at least not in public."

You felt your throat tighten, head lowering and hands beginning to shake once again. Sometimes you wished Prowl wasn't so observant, because maybe then you could actually get away with something. Sensing that you were beginning to feel ashamed about your acting, Prowl slowly raised his servo to brush a lock of hair from your face, and then gently cupped your cheek so that you could face him. A soft smile spread across his face plate before he began to speak.

"You're perfect the way you are. I understand stepping out of ones comfort zone, but there's no need to push yourself like that. Especially if you're just doing it to seem like everyone else. People will like you for you, not for someone you're not. If you truly would like to be more social, or be able to socialize without any hesitance, then I have no problem in helping you if you'd like. Just, start out slow and take it easy. Don't over exert yourself."

You felt choked up over Prowls words. He was always so good at figuring out what you were up to, but hardly ever made you, or let you stay ashamed of it. Instead, the Autobot always offered to help you out if you wanted it. Squishing your face into his large palm, you nodded to in agreement, eyes closing and voice tired from your exhaustion.

"I would like that. But first, nap."

Prowl let out a light chuckle, standing up to transform and take you back to base.

"Of course."

~xXx~

#tfa prowl x reader #tfa prowl #transformers animated imagine #transformers animated #transformers imagine #maccadam #human reader #scenario #drabble #imagine #request #anon request #imababblekat's writing

[stupid-hoes-hoe]

“”Aedion had been watching the guards in the hours he’d been chained to the stool, and had figured out who best to attach first, who favored a certain side or leg, who might hesitate when faced with the Wolf of the North, and, most importantly, who was impulsive and stupid enough to finally run him through despite the king’s command. The performances had begun, drawing the attention of the crowd that had been shamelessly gawking at him, and as the two dozen women floated and leaped and twirled into the wide space between the dias and his execution platform, for a moment, Aedion felt… bad for interrupting. These women had no cause to be caught up in the bloodshed he was about to unleash. It did seem fitting though, that the sparkling costumes were of the darkest black, accented with silver – Death’s Handmaidens, he realized. That was who they portrayed. It was as much a sign as anything. “” …”” The dancers were tossing fistfuls of black powder,coating the floor with it- representing ashes of the fallen, probably. One by one, they made pretty little spins and bowed before the king and his son. Time to move. The king was distracted by a uniformed guard whispering in his ear; the prince was watching the dancers with bored disinterest, and the queen was chatting with whichever courtier she favored that day. The crowd clapped and cooed over the unfolding performance. They’d all come in their finery- such careless wealth. The blood of an empire had paid for those jewels and silks. The blood of his people. An extra dancer was moving through the crowd: some understudy, no doubt trying to get a better view of the performance. And he might not have thought twice about it, had she not been taller than the others- bigger, curvier, her shoulders broader. She moved more heavily, as if somehow rooted innately to the Earth. The light hit her, shining through the lace of the costume’s sleeves to reveal swirls and whorls of marking on her skin. Identical to the paint on the dancers’ arms and chests, save for her back, where the paint was a little darker, a little different. Dancers like that didn’t have tattoos. Before he could see more, between one breath and the next, as a cluster of ladies in massive ball gowns blocked her from sight, she vanished behind a curtained-off doorway, walking right past the guards with a sheepish smile, as if she were lost. When she emerged againnot a minute later, he only knew it was her from the build, the height. The makeup was gone, and her flowing tulle skirt had disappeared- No – not disappeared, , he realized as she slipped back through the doorway without the guards so much as looking at her. The skirt had been reversed into a silken cape, its hood covering her ruddy brown hair, and she moved… moved like a swaggering man, parading for the ladies around him. Moved closer to him. To the stage. The dancers were still tossing their black powder everywhere, circiling around and around, flitting their way across the marble floor. None of the guards noticed the dancer-turned-noble prowling toward him. One of the courtiers did – but did not cry an alarm. Instead, he shouted a name- a man’s name. And the dancer in disguise turned, lifting a hand in greeting towards the man who’d called giving a cocky grin. She wasn’t just in disguise. She’d become someone else completly. Closer and closer she strutted, the music from the gallery orchestra rising into a clashing, vibrant finale, each not higher than the last as the dancers raised their glass roses above their heads: a tribute to the king, to Death. The disguised dancer stopped outside the ring of guards flanking Aedion’s stage, patting himself down as if checking for a handkerchief that had gone missing, muttering a string of curses. An ordinary, believable pause – no cause for alarm. The guards went back to watching the dancers. But the dancer looked up at Aedion beneath lowered brows. Even disguised as an aristo man, there was wicked, vicious triumph in her turquoise-and-gold eyes. Behind them, across the hall, the dancers shattered their roses on the floor, and Aedion grinned at his queen as the entire world went to hell. ~ It wasn’t just the glass flowers that had been rigged with the reactive powder, quietly purchased by Aelin at the Shadow Market. Every bit of sparkling dust the dancers had tossed about had been full of it. And it was worth every damned silver she’d spent as smoke erupted through the room, igniting the powder they’d been scattering everywhere. The smoke was so thick she could barely see more than a foot ahead, and blended perfectly with the gray cloak that had doubled as a skirt of her costume. Just as Arobynn had suggested. Screaming halted the music. Aelin was already moving for the nearby stage at the clock tower-that clock tower that would save or damn them all- struck noon. There was no black collar around Aedion’s neck, and that was all she needed to see, even as relief threatened to wobble her knees. Before the clock’s first strike finished, she had drawn the daggers built into the bodice of her costume- all the silver thread and beading masking the steel on her- and slashed one across the throat of the nearest guard. Aelin spun and shoved him into the man closest to him as she plunged her other blade deep into the gut of a third. The second strike of the closck tower sounded, and Aelin yanked her dagger from the belly of the groaning guard, another surging at her from the smoke. The rest would go to Aedion on instinct, but they’d be slowed by the crowds, and she was already close enough. The guard – one of those black-uniformed nightmares- stabbed with his sword , a direct attack to her chest. Aelin parried the thrust aside with one dagger, spinning into his exposed torso. Hot, reeking blood shot onto her hand as she shoved her other blade into his eye. He was still falling as she ran the last few feet to the wooden platform and hurled herself onto it, rolling, keeping low until she was right up under two other guards who were still trying to wave away the veils of smoke. They screamed as she disemboweled them both in two swipes. The fourth strike of the clock sounded, and there was Aedion, the three guards around him impaled by shards of his stool. He was huge- even bigger up close. A guard charged for them out of the smoke, and Aelin shouted “Duck!” before throwing her dagger at the man’s approaching face. Aedion barely moved fast enough to avoid the blow, and the guard’s blood splattered on the shoulder of her cousin’s tunic. She lunged for the chains around Aedion’s ankles, sheathing her remaining blade at her side. A jolt shocked through her, and blue light seared her vision as the Eye flared. She didn’t dare pause, not even for a heartbeat. Whatever spell the king had put on Aedion’s chains burned like blue fire as she sliced open her forearm with her dagger and used her blood to draw the symbols she’d memorized on the chains: Unlock. The chains thudded to the ground. Seventh strike of the clock. The screaming shifted into something louder, wilder, and the king’s voice boomed over the panicking crowd. A guard rushed at them, his sword out. Another benefit of the smoke: too risky to start firing arrows. But she’d only give Arobynn credit if she got out of this alive. She unsheathed another blade, hidden in the lining of her gray cloak.The guard went down clutching at his throat, now split ear to ear. Then she whirled to Aedion, pulled the long Eye from around her neck, and threw it over his head. She opened her mouth, but he gasped out, “The sword.” And that’s when she noticed the blade displayed behind his stool. The Sword of Orynth. Her father’s blade. She’d been too focused on Aedion, on the guards, and the dancers, to realize what blade it was. “Stay close,” Was all she said as she grabbed the sword from the stand and shoved it into his hands. She didn’t let herself think too much about the weight of that blade, or about how it had even gotten there. She just grasped Aedion by the wrist and raced across the platform toward the patio windows, where the crowd was shrieking and guards were trying to establish a line. The clock issued its ninth strike. She’d unlock Aedion’s hands as soon as they got to the garden; they didn’t have another second to spend in the suffocating smoke. Aedion staggered but kept upright, close behind as she leaped off the platform into the smoke, right where Brullo claimed two guards would hold their position. One died with a dagger to his spine, the other a blow to the side of the neck. She squeezed the hilts of her daggers against the slippery blood now coating them-and every inch of her. His sword gripped in both hands, Aedion jumped down beside her, and his knees buckled. He was injured, but not from any wound she could see. She’d discerned as much in the moments she’d weaved through the crowd, altering her demeanor as Lysandra had instructed. The paleness of Aedion’s face had nothing to do with fear, nor did his shallow breaths. They’d hurt him. It made killing these men very, very easy. The crowd was bottlenecking by the patio doors, just as she had calculated. All it took was her shouting “Fire! Fire!” and the screaming turned frantic. The crowd began shattering the windows and the glass doors, trampling one another and the guards. People grabbed buckets to douse the flames, water spraying everywhere and splashing away the Wyrdmarks on the thresholds. The smoke billowed out ahead, leading the way into the garden. Aelin pushed Aedion’s head down as she shoved him into the mass of fleeing courtiers and servants. Thrashing, squeezing, shouting, ripping at her clothes, until- until the noontime sun blinded her. Aedion hissed. Weeks in the dungeons had probably wrecked his eyes. “Just hold onto me,” she said, putting his massive hand on her shoulder. He gripped her hard, his chains knocking against her as she waded through the crowd and into open, clear air beyond. The clock tower bellowed its twelfth and final strike as Aelin and Aedion skidded to a halt before a line of six guards blocking the entrance to the garden hedges. Aelin stepped out of Aedion’s grip, and her cousin swore as his eyes adjusted enough to see what now lay between them and escape. “Don’t get in my way,” she said to him, then launched herself at the guards.””

Queen of Shadows Sarah J Maas

#Queen of Shadows #Sarah Maas #words #my new favorite scene from any book ever

[winsister91]

Make Amends

Part Eleven - Guardians

This series is a sequel to Breaking A Promise.

Characters: Dean x reader, Sam, Crowley, Cas and...an ofc...who I won’t spoil

Warnings: Language, flangst, canon-typical violence, more violence, abduction, reader being a cocky fucker

Word Count: 2300~

A/N: Hey, who remembers this series? I know I don’t! *sigh* In all honesty, I’ve had this sat waiting to go for a while but I’m starting to have doubts with this series, maybe should have written it as an ofc rather than a reader, the plot is too out there etc etc more self depricating shit. Also, I’ve hit a bit of a block with it too, and I got so many other projects going on right now...yup excuse after excuse. I don’t know if anyone is still reading this or even remembers what’s going on, but I REFUSE to repeat what happened with my abandoned series, Three Wrongs Make a Right. I WILL finish this, even if it’s just for my own enjoyment, I can only apologise if the chapters come sporadically. If you are reading, you may need a reminder ‘cause I know I did, hit up that series masterlist for a catch up. Also, thank you so much if you are reading, your patience is remarkable.

Series Masterlist Full Masterlist

~ Series and forever tags are open! ~

“Crowley,” you mumble to yourself with a determined frown. You recognize that voice anywhere. Your eyes dart up to the rafter when you can just make out a shadowy outline. Without a moment’s hesitation, you roar with rage, firing an anger-fuelled magic blast up towards him. It explodes chaotically, shattering the wooden beams into nothing but shards and splinters, but no sign of the demon.

“Y/N!” Dean shouts to get your attention, “We got problems here first!”

You bring your eye line back to ground level, standing back to back with the two brothers as the crowd of demons slowly close in on you all.

“We got a plan?” Sam mumbles, looking around trying to do a headcount, ten demons and an invisible hellhound skulking around, “How the hell are we getting out of here?”

“I’m working on it,” Dean grimaces, scowling at the hoard as it grows closer.

“I’ve got to get Crowley,” you growl, pulling an angel blade from inside your jacket, your eyes following the Hellhound prowling the outskirts of the room, waiting for its moment “I got the puppy.”

“Y/N!” Dean shouts as you step forward.

One of the demons decides to try for a preemptive strike, lunging for you the second you broke away from the boys. You already suspected one of them would try something stupid like that. You roll your eyes, effortlessly twirling the blade in your grasp and plunging it straight into his heart before he could so much as enter your personal space. He cries out in agony, his veins glowing bright orange before flickering away to nothing and dropping to the floor in a clumsy heap.

Your actions spark the rest of the demons to attack. You see Sam and Dean jumping to action in the corner of your eye, taking on one each, but that still left you majorly outnumbered as rest made a beeline for you.

“Give it up, freak,” a particularly plucky female in the group spits at you, “You’re outnumbered.”

“You have no idea what you’re fucking with here do you?” you tilt your head and laugh in bemusement.

The group doesn’t stop, two of them brandishing particularly nasty looking daggers and lunging for you. Automatically, on instinct, you wave your hand, eyes glinting blue as they are forced back and collide into the Hellhound shaped dent in the wall.

Before you can turn and make a sarcastic quip at the remainder of the group, one tackles you to the ground. You drop the angel blade in the collision and it clatters to the ground and rolls out of reach.

“Y/N!” you hear Dean shout again, swiftly followed by the cry of the demon he just lodged the demon blade into.

The demon that tackled you grabs your throat, squeezing with all its strength. You choke for air, one hand on the clasped to the monster’s wrist trying to break its hold, the other stretched out to your blade trying to reach it.

Gimme!!

The blade zaps into your awaiting palm, you instantly jam it straight into the demon’s throat. His body drops with dead weight onto you, making you groan in disgust and annoyance. You shove him off you, retrieving your trust weapon and getting back to your feet.

Dean was working his way over to you, taking out three demons single-handedly on the way, arriving at your side just as you were getting to your feet.

“You ok?” he asks urgently, his face and torso were spattered with specks of blood.

“I’m good,” you gasp. Your eyes flash blue briefly and your angel blade glides over Dean’s shoulder, burying itself into the demon trying to pull a sneak attack, “Huh, better than good.”

You summon the blade back, glancing around the room for your next target. Sam and Dean had been busy while you were playing murderous magic tricks. The room was littered with bodies, the only movement coming from the two demons you’d catapulted earlier, now groggily getting to their feet. You wave your hand, forcing them to bang their heads together and knock themselves out. You chuckle, admiring your slapstick handiwork and starting to appreciate having the old mojo back.

“You two okay?” Sam jogs over to you and Dean, all three of now donning the splattered with blood’ attire.

“Yeah,” Dean answers, his hand trembling while he held Ruby’s demon blade, “Fucking Crowley, that son of a bitch!”

“Wait,” you mumble, laying your hand on Dean’s arm subconsciously. Your eyes are narrowed, scanning the entire room, “Where’s the Hellhound?”

The three of you go rigid, slowly turning and looking around for any sign of it. You furrow your brow in bewilderment while your heart beats with fear.

It can’t be here, I could see the damn the thing. It surely wouldn’t suddenly go invisible again…?

“I think you gave her the spooks…” a gruff voice retorts behind you. You turn and set eyes upon the King of Hell, and instant fire of anger sparking in your belly, “Must’ve done a runner.”

The corner of his mouth twitches with a small smirk.

“Crowley!” Dean snarls, shaking your hand off his arm and marching straight for the demon.

“Dean!” you cry after him, totally panicked at where this was going. Sam strides forwards as well, joining his brother. You can only watch as Crowley nonchalantly flicks his wrist and both Winchesters smash into the wall behind, suspended by an invisible force around the throat.

There’s a sting in your eyes as you look up at them both briefly, but then you turn back to Crowley. The fire burns hotter in your guts, making you clench your fists and jaw.

“Enough,” you say calmly, trying to hold it back, “I’m not going. You tried and you failed.”

You falter in your breathing, glancing up at Dean who grunts in pain above you. You blink your eyes quickly to focus back to Crowley.

“You three,” the King of Hell spits, “are such a god damned pain in my arse d’ya know that? You have to make everything difficult!”

“Don’t go underestimating how much more difficult I can make this,” you threaten as you momentarily fantasize the numerous ways you could kill him right now.

Crowley’s chest heaves and he splutters a laugh, “Y-you?” he points in mockery, “You think you can take me!?”

“Y/N, don’t,” Sam manages to choke out, but you keep your eyes firmly locked where they stand.

“Y/N!” Dean roars, trying to get you to listen. Your heart skips hearing the desperation and pain in his voice.

But I have to find out where the witches are. Crowley is the key. Then, I’ll kill him.

You glance down at the angel blade in your hand, you didn't even realize how much you were shaking. You blame Crowley for last year. If he hadn’t have taken Dean away, you would have never sought out the potion and started the first fire. If Crowley never plotted with “Demon Dean” to have you trapped down in that basement, The Red Dragon Inn would still be standing. All those people wouldn’t have died.

You twirl the blade in your grasp. “Do you wanna see a magic trick Crowley?” you ask, a smirk playing on your lips.

The King tilts his head in slight curiosity, “Humor me,” he chuckles.

“Y/N!” Dean roars again, but he almost a white noise to you know.

“You ever seen Guardians of the Galaxy?” you ask with a sadistic smile.

He doesn’t answer, just furrows his brow. You shrug, shoulders shaking as you laugh, “Nevermind.”

The boys watch on, still wincing in pain and gasping for breaths, “Y/N...don’t please!” Dean pleads.

Your eyes flash with light, the angel blade now levitating before your face. You playfully wink as Crowley sighs and shoves his hands in his coat pocket feigning boredom. You purse your lips and whistle, the weapon now swooshing and gliding around in the air, dancing around the room gracefully.

“Cute,” Crowley chuckles with a raised eyebrow, “but-”

He stops as you suddenly whistle a high pitched harsh tone, and the blade shoots for his face, directly stopping a couple of millimeters before his nose.

“Very cute,” he smiles with a glare, “What do you want?”

“Who’s trying to bring the potion back?” you ask hurriedly, “Why? Where are they?!”

“Darling, Princess,” he shakes his head still wearing a cocky grin, “What do I get in return for such information?”

“I’ll give you a headstart,” you scoff, “I’ll only kill you after I’ve killed all of them.”

You feel a draft of hot humid air brush over the back of your neck. You freeze, the very audible growl of something extremely pissed off stood behind you.

“Oh,” Crowley beams, “Looks like Betsy came back.”

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

“Y/N!!” Dean bellows, tears filling his eyes painfully at your screams. The Hellhound had tackled you, hurtling you both over the bar and out of sight. His heart races, screaming your name over and over with all the force he could. Sam clenches his eyes closed, trying to bite back the outburst he could feel building rapidly.

Your cries of pain dwindle to nothing and a thick silence fills the air. The brothers stare at the bar, waiting for something, anything, just some indicator that you are alive.

“No,” Dean clenches his jaw and bares his teeth, unsuccessfully holding back his tears, “N-not like this…”

Sam’s head drops, his hair falling in front of his face, hiding his grimaces of torment.

“NOT BECAUSE OF FUCKING YOU!” Dean roars at the King of Hell.

“Oh relax,” Crowley rolls his eyes, “I’m not gonna kill her when we need her.”

“You son of a bitch, you just wait,” Dean spits, “I’ll fucking rip you apart limb from limb.”

Dean could feel it, that itch in his arm, he clenches his fist and doesn’t fight it this time. He wants the mark to fuel him so he can get his kill.

“I told you to relax!” Crowley patronizes him, “We’re gonna have a little road trip! Me, Squirrel and Princess!”

The brothers look upon him in bewilderment, “What the hell are you talking about?” Sam grunts.

“Oh, Moose…” Crowley sighs and looks at him in disappointment, “I’m afraid you're not invited.”

Another idle flick of Crowley’s wrist and Sam finds himself smashing into a nearby table head first, and everything suddenly dropped to black.

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

“Sam!”

Sam felt his shoulders being shaken, but he couldn’t find the strength to open his eyes. He feels something touch his temple firmly, followed by a warm sensation, and his body sudden feels revitalized. He jolts awake, shaking head and rubbing his eyes into focus.

“Sam,” Castiel sat before him, his hand moving away from Sam’s forehead, “Are you alright?”

“Uh...yeah,” he replies, getting to his feet and finally remembering what happened. He was still in the bar, bodies of demon’s still scattered around, but no sign of Crowley or Dean, “Y/N!”

Sam runs to the bar, jumping over it swiftly and looking around for you, but there’s no sign of you either, just a lot of broken glass and pools of blood.

He can’t speak, his heart freezing and becoming breathless.

“Sam, what happened?” Cas asks urgently, “Y/N sent an SOS out on Angel Radio and I came immediately.”

“Sh- she did that?” Sam gasps, blood draining from his face, “Cas...I...He knocked me unconscious, I couldn’t do anything.”

“Who knocked you unconscious?” Cas grabs Sam’s forearms, “Where is Dean and Y/N?”

Sam’s jaw trembles, partly in anxiety and also in anger, “They’re not here...he- Crowley has taken them.”

“Where?”

“I-I don’t know.”

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

Your eyes slowly open, they feel swollen and bruised. Your hands are bound by something cold, iron shackles. You’re curled up on a stone floor, there are markings on it around you, looks like an Angel Trap. Your eyes sting as they try to focus, a bright light dazing you. You wince in pain as you try to blink them into focus, finally noting that the light is coming from a large ring of fire surrounding you.

Where the fuck am I?

You sit up, trying to look past the flames to see the surrounding walls, but the fire glares in your eyes too much to see.

Is that….holy fire?

You try to sit up, white-hot pain wracking your body as you do. You can see your arms and chest covered in hot sticky gashes and grazes from the Hellhound’s claws. You can also feel the same sensation straight across your cheek, the familiar feeling of congealed dried blood across it too and pulling at your skin.

There’s a parting in the flames and a hooded figure walks through. It stops in front of you, kneels down and holds a finger under your chin which you violently shake off.

“Long time no see Y/N,” a familiar voice echoes from inside the hood. A voice that triggers pleasant memories, one you were used to hearing in a positive tone. Now however, the tone is different, darker and sinister.

You don’t answer, but narrow your brow trying to place the voice. You have a mild suspicion, but you know that it’s impossible.

A pair of slim hands reach onto the edges of the hood and slowly pull it down. Blonde hair. A face that wouldn’t melt butter. A face that you were once delighted to see.

“J-Jenny?”

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[grimgrimory]

Crosshares Kingdom AU Chapter 7

Stomachs growled in the dining hall, and Coco took a bite out of the food in front of her.

It was a plate full of green and red vegetables with variety of sauces and ornaments; decorating it like some sort of culture festival. Eyes were on Coco, including knights, chefs, and guests. But Velvets eyes were particularly alarming as they watched every movement and express Coco made while eating.

In Valiric, temperatures were much below the freezing point of any fruits or vegetables to grow. With the exception of tree bark, green bacon they liked to call it, she was used to an all meat diet. That said, she had to force herself not to gag out of reflex.

Coco had steeled herself before hand and was still hesitant to eat each bite. She wasn’t going to act like a child who refuses to eat their food because she didn’t like it, even if Ruby and Nora were the first two to complain about the menu. She was going to eat it, and she was going to enjoy Velvet’s company. That was that.

“Hmm. You don’t have to force yourself.” Velvet looked worried as her knight in shining armor was having trouble eating the food that she had offered. But with much persistence and patience, Coco managed to swallow her next bite of food to ease Velvet’s worries.

“I spent and entire week with nothing but water. I’m not that picky enough of an eater to decline a meal.” Coco was right in the sense that she usually isn’t the pickiest of eaters, and spending two weeks, not one, really threw her regard of bad tasting food out the window. However, she had declined a meal from someone of equal standing or maybe higher than that of Velvet during her time in Lonther. She offered the excuse that she couldn’t because it was her nature not to expect anything in return of favors. Her stomach was empty, but really didn’t want to stay too long for people to start remembering her.

In this case, she had taken a partial residence with the inn owner just outside the main gate. It was the furthest away from the castle, but it was the first one to be alarmed of an outside attack. So not wanting to stay long wasn’t an option and the little show from before definitely had her face memorized. Rumors were already starting to accumulate where Cardin was dragging Velvet by the ears and Coco was the only one to take action. They all shared their differences, but the one thing they all agreed upon was the fact that Cardin wounded up with a broken rib cage.

Today was her second day in Jili, and Coco already stood out far more than she had planned. It almost was a joke to her how things ended up. She still got a free meal out of it, and a job that she still didn’t know how much she got paid. And during those two days, she was hired as a knight, protected the princess from being a political piece, stopped a couple of thieves from doing who knows what, and might get offered up a position to train soldiers in maneuvering.

It felt rushed the way she was doing things, but it was much too slow than she would have hoped for. By this time, Coco had wanted to at least know what happened to her people; or at least make contact with Fox or Yatsu. With nowhere else to turn, she was heavily debating to ask if the people if Jili would want to help her find more information regarding the West Rampage.

Unlike her to hold things off, Coco felt it was too inappropriate now considering they were going to have a war against Giramwen. It was best to hold off for a little while, letting things die down.

But I don’t know if waiting a little while is going to help.

Coco was thinking that if she waited too long, it would lead to the death of her people if they weren’t killed already. It was hard for her to stay calm as she was, even if it was just for the show.

She was tired, weak, and hungry. But the plate of food in front of her was going to help with two of those three things.

Coco made up her mind to enjoy the rowdy laughter of cheers and the food that would be flung at each other when Velvet wasn’t looking. These were a strange group of people she was going to be staying with; but with enough time, she might even consider them family.

***

Ren was alone in the cover of the night as he stood prowling at the forces of Giramwen. He was expecting in the least that they would take this battle of there’s a little seriously; but like his expectations he had with Nora, shattered the longer he was around.

They were drinking, laughing, and made no signs of being weary of spies. He would have thought it easy to just walk in and they would hand it over if he just asked. They were a sad excuse of soldiers, even if he they had the best toys to back it up.

He wasn’t worried about the forces of Giramwen at all. No, he was worried and scared about a different outcome.

Off to the side, far from the crowd of drinks and cheers, were hundreds of wooden cages dimly lit by a faint light. In there, were the men you would expect to find at war. They were strong and hearty, seemingly that the wooden cage was made of twigs and would crumble if they stared too long at it. There were faunus mixed in with the cages who were frightened of the upcoming battle.

He knew at a glance that they were slaves going to fight in this battle, and would love nothing more to flee from battle. He was surprised that they were as calm as they were, that might have been due to the fact that they had them far away from Cardin’s forces and they found comfort in each other.

This raised a lot of problems for Ren knowing that Velvet wanted to stay peaceful throughout this entire battle and didn’t want anyone to get hurt badly.

The problem didn’t rise because they were under prepared. It came from not wanting to kill anyone.

Observing further, he noticed that one cage door was just open. This cage was apart from the wooden one’s he had seen, as this one seemed specialty crafted with heavy steel and metal. And yet, the two people who were in the cage remained seated on the ground with their back leaning against the bars. One was much more hulking than the others that were similar to him. Everyone else felt like children compared to him, even if he was sitting in an open cage.

The other one in particular had caught Ren’s attention because he seemed to have caught his.

He had burnt orange hair and was leaning on the exit of the cage hinges. And without even looking at Ren, he pointed towards him and told Ren to come to him.

No normal person would have been able to notice Ren, who felt was an adept when it came to stealth, but nothing about these two felt normal.

Not wanting them to alert others, he slowly made his way to them.

The faunus in the cages seemed surprised as some of them stood up and ringed their hands against the bars. It was the soldiers who kept them from making any noise and sat them back down on the dirt. How weird was it that these people got along with the faunus so easily? He guessed that was to be expected since they were all prisoners of war and made no further thought of it.

“You here to kill us or here to help us.” The man sitting down asked still meditating in place.

This took Ren a second to think that if they were to go to battle, they might eventually having to kill each other. But he didn’t come here to kill them, he came here to observe. “Here to help. Anything you need.”

“I think we’re fine.” The orange haired man said giving Ren a quick glimpse. His eyes were clouded and felt dead as it hadn’t bothered looking directly at the dim lit fire that illuminated their small cage. His eyes were that of a dead fish, losing all life and purpose.

Ren felt that he hadn’t lost his meaning to live, and wanted to confirm. “Are- are you blind?” He wasn’t too sure his he should be walking in such a  dangerous territory.

“Born with it.” He said almost as a set response obviously getting asked that a lot. “Names Fox. The beast of a man you see sitting down is Yatsuhashi.” He brought his arm out to shake Ren’s hand. Ren obliged with the gesture, even if the handshake was a bit different than he was used to. Instead of grasping the palm and giving it a heavy shake, Fox went further than the palm and grasped his wrist. After being satisfied, Fox let go with a smile and began talking.

“You from that desert city just up ahead?”

Ren felt that a day of running in the sand didn’t count as just up ahead, but not other villages were close enough for him to be familiar with. “From Jili, yes.”

“Hey Yatsu, do you know if she got kicked out Jili?” Fox asked with Ren knowing that there must be context to that sentence to understand it.

“As far as I’m aware, she only got banned from Zenith and Giramwen. But maybe Lonther now since they went to have an alliance with them.” Yatsu easing his meditative posture into a formal sitting.

What Yatsu said had bothered Ren just a bit. Not that whoever they were talking about got banned from two kingdoms, but the last part of what he said.

“Wait, Lonther allied with Giramwen?” They both nodded at Ren’s question as he stood in awe.

Great, was he the one who was going to tell Pyrrha? He felt that he could tell someone to relay the message, she;s going to be heartbroken that her family had allied with tyrants.

“You think that what was happening with Jili then?” Ren asked as Fox turned away to peer on the lit camp of drinkers.

“Look around. You tell me why they wanted to be ‘allies’ with the Kingdom of Faunus.”

Ren peered into the cages to see heavily wounded faunus. Some were better off than others, seeing how some could stand and others were curled in a fetal position. These people hadn’t seen the faunus like people the way Jili did, and instead used them as fodder for their own troops to stay unharmed. The soldiers who followed these two seemed to be unharmed and were caring for the faunes’ wounds.

“You might want to get going.” Fox said pushing Ren away from his door to close the cage. “And tell your troops not to lay a hand on the faunus. You figure something out so we don’t end this battle in a genocide.” With that, Fox pushed Ren away for him to run back to Jili.

He had obtained some valuable information about the state of their soldiers. Even if they had 10,000 troops, those who were fighting were not.

“The battle will be in about two days during the early hours. Be ready to fight, not to kill.”

***

Coco had once again failed to get any sleep for this day. She had spent all of the morning talking with her goddess before the time passed enough for the raising of the sun. Her eyes strained much more than she had with the sand, but the combination of the two was almost unbearable.

She would have gone straight to sleep right away at the inn if they hadn’t called her to the training grounds. She was going to train the troops how to understand maunvering and adapting to sudden changes in behavior. She wasn’t feeling for any mock battle today, so if she does get the opportunity to teach, she knew it was going to be a slow day that involve a lot of self studying.

When training her own troops, she first taught them how to whistle like a bird. It was odd considering they were going in the heat of battle, but it helped when it came to giving commands. Plus, she loved it when people couldn’t whistle and it was a symphony of incoherent rambling. And soon, she will drill all the battle toons in their heads where they can’t forget it even if they tried.

Coco chuckled hysterically fumbling over like a drunkard towards the castle. Between hunting for rations and trying not to die in the cold, she would have to guess that whistling was the only thing in Valiric that nobody had anything against. For the older ones who hadn’t quite freeze to death, it still gave them something to do with their lives.

“Coco, glad you could make it.” Sun was waiting for her by the training ground entrance. He too was one of the people who spent all of last night dining and failed to get any sleep. HIs yawn was loud and exaggerated and Coco thought that going into this training was going to be the only way for her to stay awake.

“Happy to help. So, anything in particular you would like me to teach them?” Coco had brought a book with her she had carried throughout her journey. It recorded anything she had found useful and effective during her time hunting. She wasn’t one who likes writing things down in a book because it allowed her to forget. This was another reason she didn’t like paintings of people or places. WIth a written recording of it, it allowed people to forget because they can afford it. Since they have it written down, they don’t need to remember it because it will do it for them. A book is more useful as a fire starter than it is to write in Valiric.

Though, it does come with so useful notes that she could just have people read as she slept. She was sure that these people weren't completely useless in that...sense.

Coco drifted off into sleep for a second to walk it off like it was a stretch. She was going too days without sleep. She had done longer before, but she wasn’t moving and hunting around as much requiring more energy. But if she made it through today, she was planning on sleep throughout the entirety of the next few days.

“Sorry to ask a new comer for help. The job would usually go to Pyrrha, but she retired from the battlefield to look after her husband.” Sun scratched his head with subtle hints of embarrassment. They both looked at the soldiers that Coco was going to be training for the day when that name clicked to her.

“Nikos, right?” Coco was positive that was her name, and was at least a little familiar with her situation.

“Oh, you’re friends with Pyrrha?” That got Sun’s attention.

“Little less than friends than to say that she’s a little famous in the west.”

“Really, I should tell Pyrrha this.”

“I wouldn’t do that.” Coco quickly said before he made any rash decisions. “She’s known as the bastard child of Lonther last I heard.”

“Really?” He had mixed emotions of stunned, shocked, and disappointment.

“You said she retired after she got married. I’m assuming that her husband was…” Coco began snapping her fingers trying to remember the name. It occurred to her that she might have never heard the name because her family was trying to keep it a secret.

Coco chose the word commoner and Sun nodded rapidly at this. She didn’t want to offend the ex-princess of Lonther by saying peasant, but that is what her husband was. The only people who have 8 children are kings trying to get a male successor and the poor who can’t afford a job. Lonther itself was a fine kingdom, having what you’d expect from a normal one that is. Isn’t made out of sand or snow, and doesn’t have a tyrant ruler. The classical kingdom of pruned knights and armor with no quirks of their own. But their ideology was much more different than that of Valiric’s even though it shared common themes with the world. It was said to admit, but Valiric may be the only kingdom that elects their leaders the way they do.

“It doesn’t madder.” Coco cut herself off before she disrespected Pyrrha more than she already needed. She was sure that she already heard everything the world had to offer, and was living a happy life in Jili. “Let’s see what these troops of yours have to offer.” They both smiled choosing to ignore their gossip.

***

“Whistle. It’s just a whistle!” Coco was beginning to grow more and more frustrated at these people. Not only could like four people here whistle, more than half of them couldn’t even make a sound. The worse one of them was Ruby.

“I’m trying to!” She cried knowing she was going to be the next person singled out. “I just don’t know where to put my tongue.”

“There are several things you can do with your voice that doesn't even involve your tongue. In this case, make an ‘S’ sound and play with your lips till even the smallest bit of sound comes out!”

Ruby began to spit out hums as the blood vessel on Coco’s forehead might just pop open out of her head.

“It’s no use teaching her. I've been trying to get her to snap her fingers.” Weiss was one of the people who already knew how to whistle along with Penny, Yang, and Sun. She had given them the book she brought while she played catch-up on the two most incompetent people here.

“And Nora, I don’t even know what you are doing. Am I going to have to show you lot how to do it again.” Sun began to panic a little not wanting her to demonstrate again. It was a whistle she practicly made for the faunus. A drawback is that they panic at the sound and start saying things like ‘awp’ as they try to gain conscious again.

“I can show Ruby.” Both Weiss and Penny said at the same time. They glared at each other and were just about ready to go into a cat fight if Yang hadn’t calmed them.

Coco felt it must be tiring for Ruby having to deal with those two, or that just might be Coco’s lack of sleep catching up to her.

It was looking pretty bad.

“Like Coco said,” Sun shouted at the troops. “This will help you communicate longer distances than shouting. If you don’t know how, you can just blow on the tip of a pine cone.” A thud came behind him but he chose to ignore it. The screams that came after, not so much. “What happened?!” Sun might have been more scared than the screaming women pointing at Coco who was face deep in sand.

“Coco just passed out. Is she sick, is she dying!” Ruby began to run around in panic forcing Yang to stop her.

“That would make sense.” Penny said calmly as a yellow bird landed on her shoulder. “She hasn’t slept for two days.” Penny was looking at the bird as if they were communicating with each other. She followed it with an “ah, I see” and “must be rough”

“What are we going to do now?!” Sun was more depressed than anyone else here seeing as their day of training face planted into the sand. He probably shouldn't leave her here, but couldn’t either.

“I can take her.” A volunteer behind him sounded like she was more telling him than asking. He didn’t even want to look at this mess that fell before him and tried not to look at Coco being dragged away. This was just perfect.

***

Velvet was in the market square before the events of her day occurred. She was making some runs to specialty shops where she met Blake finishing up her shift. She looked a little tired, but was happy to help Velvet search for a gift for Coco.

“What kind of gift are you looking for?” Blake asked masking her yawn with a stretch.”

“I don’t know yet. Something she likes hopefully.” Velvet wanted to have a second opinion on this, but it seemed that Blake was as clueless at gift giving as Velvet was. “Your dating Yang. What does Yang usually give you.”

“Well, Yang gives me more personal gifts so to say.” Blake stopped walking after she said this. She was worried that she said to much towards the innocence of Velvet, but she just smiled with her hands behind her back. “You’ll get it when your older.” Blake sighed in relief happy that Velvet didn’t catch that.

“What’s that supposed to mean.” Velvet pointed puffing her cheeks and mumbling quietly to let only Blake here. “I’m at least a year older than you.”

So the morning went on in a variety of shops, some having fancy jewelry while others were more hand crafted. Blake had to stop some owners from saying too much on what to do if she gives her this alone at night, but most dared not to be too chummy with the princess. They browsed and shopped. Made a little small talk to pass the time.

“So, what do you think of Coco?” Velvet asked looking at her feet. She must have been worried about it much more than anyone else was.

“If I would have to say one thing about the Cardin ordeal, that was expected of her.” Blake looked content with that answer as Velvet looked more and more confused. “Did you know that Coco and Cardin met before?” Blake began to clarify.

“I knew something along the lines after what she said, but I don’t know the whole story.”

“Did you know I was there the first time Coco met Cardin?”

“Really now. Is that when you were living in…” Velvet wasn’t so sure if she should bring up such a touchy subject about living in Giramwen. It was nice for people, but hell for faunus.

“She’s actually the reason Ruby, Yang and I are here.”

“Wait, she helped you get out?!” Velvet squealed with a bit of jealousy in her voice. She calmed down and asked her what happened.

“Well, you know that the three of us grew up in Giramwen, right?” Velvet nodded as Blake continued. “I don’t know why she came, but Coco visited Girawmen on a whim of some sort. This was the time of Cardin’s coronation where he was going to be named the next heir to the throne after he got married.”

“You think that’s why-”

“Definitely.” Blake said without hesitation getting a little serious. “Pyrrha married Juane and was no longer a princess at this time. And Lonther already had their next heir take the throne so that wouldn’t have worked. Nuwara would have gone to war if they receive such an insult and would use them as an example for the rest of the kingdoms. The problem with Zenith is that they don’t have a princess and you’d probably be in debt before you made it in. Valiric would freeze anyone who made it up there, and I heard they were an isolated country. Karvel is, well…”

“Karvel.” Velvet finished Blake’s train of thought.

“A pain yes. And Baca is more of a island resort than a kingdom. So Jili, like it or not, is the only place ready for a political arrangement.”

“Well, I get why he wanted to marry, but how does Coco get involved?”

“I’m getting to that. So, pretty much all faunus knows what it’s like to be in Giramwen.” Velvet nodded profusely in agreement. “Well, I met Yang who promised to get me out of there. So, we were planning on leaving at the time when Cardin’s was going to become the heir. Distracted and the sorts. What we didn’t know, that he wanted to make an example of all the faunus on that day by killing half off us.”

“That’s horrible. Why would anyone think to do such a thing?” It seemed that Velvet was about to cry knowing that she was going to marry such a man.

Blake calmed her down saying it didn’t end like that and she didn’t get taken away by Cardin. “Needless to say, they were looking for us.” Blake continued. “So after Yang and Ruby put up much of a fight, about a hundred faunus were were on their knees prepared to be made an example for a political campaign.

“Just… I need to know. How many people died?”

“None.” Blake said proudly letting Velvet calm down. “When everyone was trapped, pinned and cornered, Coco cared not of what was going to happen towards her, walked up, and punched Cardin in the nose.”

“She actually did that?” Velvet pressing Blake to see if she was exaggerating.

“Without a moment's hesitation. And when he tried to fight back, she did it again.”

“What about the guards? What did they do?”

“I didn’t get a good look, but Yang swears that she caught them laughing at Cardin having his nose broken.” Blake smiled at Velvet knowing they were a perfect match together.

“That does it!” Velvet stood proudly with her ears standing high. “I’m going to give Coco the perfect give to thank her on the behalf of Jili and all faunus.”

Blake did like the idea of that. She had tried to thank Coco in the past but she left too quickly for anyone to give her thanks. Yang let her become a knight immediately after coming here saying that Coco wouldn’t accept a gift for doing the right thing. But if it came from Velvet, she might actually take it.

“I see Yang give you gifts all the time Blake. I’ll get something from the same store that Yang shops at for you. She said when I found someone I like, I can’t go wrong with that store.”

“Wait!” Blake said almost in a daze realizing what Velvet was going to do.

“What’s wrong? I want Coco to smile at me the same way that you smile at Yang when you get a gift from her.”

“D-do I really smile?” Blake asked defeated as fire began to fill in Velvet’s eyes.

“Very much so. It’s kind of hard not to notice when you get silent and start acting all fidgety.”

Blake Belladonna got to her knees Velvet looked around in excitement trying to spot the tent. They knew. Everyone knew. She had spent months trying not to be one of those girls, but if Velvet could figure it out, everyone knew. And the nights. WHAT ABOUT THE NIGHTS! She said so much, so loudly. She was always trying to remain a mute about these things, but Yang always made sure she enjoyed her company. This was bad. Really really bad.

“Look, there it is!” Velvet skipped along to an unmarked black tent that stood hidden, but proudly amongst the other shops.

Blake couldn’t even find the words to shout at Velvet from going in there. Her life was over. No, its been over. She just didn’t realized she was poisoned for so long.

Velvet stuck her head in like a school girl in love, then she stood still, in shock. All color drained from her skin as she ran out crying.

She went on her knees and tried to begin to wipe her eyes from tears. “Why would someone sell things so disgusting?!” She stopped crying and sniffled, looking into Blake's eyes. If she wasn’t crying, Blake would have been. But what Velvet said next made Blake do just that. “PERVERT!” Velvet began to cry with no ending in sight as a small tear began to form in Blake’s.

“It’s too late now! We’re in this together!” Blake picked Velvet up, both girls fully in blush.

“Don’t make me go back in there!” Velvet began to panic as more and more eyes were watching. Velvet was acting like Blake the first time Yang introduced her to this store. And as such, she knew where to grab Velvet to prevent her from running. It was the point of no return, and she wasn’t going back empty handed.

Blake marched into the erotic tent: scared, tired, and ashamed with a blistering bunny furrowing over her shoulder.

“Oh, hi Blake.” The storekeeper smiled, delighted to see a familiar face. “I just got a new book called “The Secrets of Love”. I’m telling you, those people from Basa come up with the most interesting positions.”

Blake began to cry.

***

The walk back to the castle remained without incident. Both of them were too embarrassed to talk to each other, and Velvet had her ears dropping down like a dog with her tail between her legs.

Velvet was carrying a quadruple sealed black bag that the store keeper had suggested and gave them for free. He said it was to promote business and have them come back.

“Dirty old man. I’m not ever coming back.” Blake looked in her bag to read the title of the book again. At least she had something to read.

“Hi there darling!” Yang came whistling up from the direction of the training ground. “Ooh. I see you went to that store. And my surprise, I never imagined Velvet getting anything from that store.” Yang peered at the black bags that they both carried. It was doubled stitched to avoid being torn, and she recognised them after all the times that Yang had to hide it after shopping with Blake.

Velvet began to panic having Blake speak up. “One’s for you, one’s for me. I didn’t want to touch it considering where it’s going to be.”

“I find that hard to believe.” Yang called her bluff. “ I can see that you’re carrying a book Blake by the way the corners on the bag look. And there is no way you’d let our innocent Velvet go in there without wanting something for her own. Or Coco.”

“Yang!” Blake yelled.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding. But I do have to say Velvet, bold choice for your first time.”

“I’m only ever going there once!” Velvet cried through the tears. Yang and Blake patted her on the back.

“Don’t worry Velvet, everyone goes in that store at least one time.” She chose to leave out the part that she could count the amount of people bold enough to walk out of there with a bag on two hands.

“Yeah. And I’ve talked to April sometimes when I see her in there.” Yang said.

“Mom?” Velvet’s voice cracked after saying this.

“Oh that’s right. You weren’t supposed to know.”

At this point, Velvet’s tears ran dry and could only stand dumbfounded. It was the sad truth she needed to grow accepting of. And even more so if she wanted to be with Coco.

“Enough of that.” Blake changing the subject. “I thought that you were training with Coco today?”

“We were, but Coco hasn’t slept in todays and passed out on the spot. Check it out.” Yang began to whistle in a  pattern similar to that of a bird. “That means forward right position. Still don’t know what that means, but it seemed useful.”

“Wait, Coco hasn’t been sleeping?” Velvet overheard coming back to reality.

Blake thought back on the previous two nights where Coco went to wander the desert and the night she spent to eat at the castle. “I guess she hasn’t.”

“Good, now’s your chance. Take Coco to your bed and practice on her.”

Velvet flat out refused to do anything to Coco in her sleep, something Blake wished from Yang, but she did agree to have Coco sleep in her bed considering that was the closest one here.

“So.” Yang said as the two of them watched Velvet run off towards the train grounds. “What kind of book did you get there?”

#crosshares #crosshares kingdom #kingdom au

[doctorpuppy]

Lycea The Wolf

She had found out about her pregnancy from Neya, who cared and kept watch over all over Aisan’s ‘comfort slaves’. Lycea might not have even noticed herself for months if not for her watchful eye. Neya saw the twisted expression of grief and pain that had fallen over with that news.

“I can’t lose another one, Neya. I can’t do it again.” Lycea had begged, as if any of this were in the other woman’s hands.

“If it is one of Aisan’s perhaps some sort of bargain can be struck to keep him in house, perhaps he could work in the kitchens until he’s old enough to be trained in a proper --” Neya paused upon observing a near-imperceptible shaking of Lycea’s head. So slight even she hadn’t known she had done it. Neya let out a sigh. She wanted to inquire further but thought perhaps this was neither  the time nor the place for it. “But it’s not his…”

“I won’t lose this one. I can’t.” She repeated, choking on her words.

“Then we’ll have to smuggle you out of here. Sometime in the night. The Master will not give you up easily though. There will be dangerous men set after you.”

“And spend the rest of my life running from him? Is my fate to be a prisoner all my life, Neya?”

“What other choice do you have, dear?” Neya replied softly, her voice heavy with sorrow.

What other choice? It was those words that had crystallized Lycea’s plan in her mind. That had set into motion all that would follow.

As a child the Monks had warned her, warned all the child slaves of the Master off of thoughts of defying his will. The most well-tread parable imparted upon them was that of the lamb and the wolf. The Sheep served the Farmer well, providing wool each season and bringing him prosperity and warmth. The Sheep’s master treated him and his kin with kindness. Kept them fed. Kept them sheltered. It was noble and right to be as the Sheep.

The wolf in turn only did as it pleased. Took sheep. Took hens. Took whatever it wanted. All to sate it’s own needs. All to ensure it’s own survival with no thought toward the Farmer or the hardships he might face. But did not the same Farmer then turn on the Sheep? Decide the Sheep had provided enough. Enough wool. Enough children. Enough prosperity. Enough before the Farmer turned his razor to the Sheep’s throat and spilled his life upon the soil. Took all the Sheep had to give for himself. A lifetime of noble and righteous service paid in betrayal. Lycea, even as a child, saw through the construct of this cautionary aphorism.

The Wolf had the right of things. The only thing that mattered was survival. Not kindness. Not prosperity. Not righteousness. The only loyalty owed was to one’s self. To one’s own blood. Everything else was a smokescreen. A fine and pretty thing that fools wrapped around themselves to keep the cold truth out in the dark.

She waited for Aisan that night in his chambers and through her charm and allure, brought him to bed with her. It disgusted her to have him set his lips and hands all over her body but she needed him close and helpless. There under the pale moonlight Lycea allowed him to have his last taste of her before took her taste of him.

He writhed and luxuriated above her, his face twisted into a grin as he  lost himself in her. His eyes were shut as she sat up to bring her lips to his throat. He chuckled in delight, oh so eager to enjoy the affection of his most prized possession. Instead of the gentle press of lips to his skin however he felt a pressure clamping down upon him and then a crackling inside of his own skull. The next and last sensation he would know would be the rush of heat that spilled out from where Lycea’s teeth had sunk in. His head was spinning again, this time in panic and dread as he realized what was occuring. He scrambled to shake her loose but his strength was already leaving him, flooding out from the wound she had opened and spilling everywhere.

Lycea spat a mouthful of blood into Aisan’s face. One final indignity for the lifetime of indignities he had visited upon her. She crawled off of the bed and stared up into the night sky as she felt the crimson-metallic taste of his blood leaving her tongue, replaced with something else. What was it? It tasted like the moon above. Silver and sweet. Had the moon always had a taste? Always had a smell? Had it always looked so beautiful to her? She felt her body suffused with the moonlight, spreading from her face and down through her body. She felt something primal stir in her.

Lycea looked out onto the balcony at the shimmering, silver-lined shadow of a wolf. It watched her with eager, shining eyes. As Lycea locked her gaze with the wolf’s she found she knew the beast’s name. In that unspoken connection, they exchanged whole life stories without the need for a word. The silver wolf bid her to follow, for their was still much work to be done.

She stepped out into the halls, still covered in his blood. A nightmare grin across her face as gleaming white fangs shone in the moonlight. The guards tried to stop her there but she was no longer Lycea, the exotic and beautiful Icewalker slave princess. She was Lycea the Wolf now. Black as night and filled with power. Her jaws were around the first guard’s skull in less time than it took to scream. She crushed it in her jaws with the same ease one might bite into a grape. The second guard tried to draw his blade only to look down at the bloody stump of his limb and then back behind him to a second wolf, this one silver. She tossed the mangled piece of guard to the ground and leapt at him, wrapping herself firmly around his throat and lifting him off the ground. She swung him wildly back and forth until she felt the snap of his spine resonate down her body.

Lycea had been renowned for her voice and her gift of song in her other life. Aisan would invite guests from across Creation to come be entertained by his prize slave. That Lycea was lost to the world now. The only song any would hear from her this night were her howls, echoing down the halls of Aisan’s home and stirring everyone from their sleep.

Aisan’s relatives, his guards, his slaves. All woke with a start, alerted by the sudden unearthly sound. Instinct should have inspired them to flee then. But Sheep often find their instincts dulled by domestication. They stepped out to investigate. To raise an alert and a defense to this sudden intrusion.

Lycea dragged Derad Aisan’s limp corpse in her jaws and dropped it in the fountain as the onlookers gathered to gaze upon the black-coated Wolf that stood defiantly in their midst now.  The Silver Wolf prowled around the courtyard, moving with an unnerving fluidity. Someone called out Aisan’s name in horror as the guards charged toward the wolves, only to be torn apart one after the other. How could mere Sheep, no matter their number,  hope to repel them now?

One of Aisan’s sons, the youngest perhaps, charged at her with his father’s prized weapon in hand. The blade served him little. He swung wide, missing and driving the point of the blade into the courtyard’s paved path. Lycea didn’t hesitate. Lycea knocked the man to the ground and stamped down upon his back with her full weight, shattering him beneath her.

She looked up and around her, taking in the faces of the survivors. Aisan’s remaining relations had fled the scene. Perhaps not eager to share in the fate of the lord of this house. Lycea saw the faces of his slaves, watching her. Were they frozen with terror? Were they every bit the Sheep the monks and whips had made them?

No. Not terror in their eyes. Reverence. Elation. Excitement. Moonlight, free and glorious in their reflected in their gaze. She shifted forms before them, becoming a Lycea they could perhaps recognize. Not quite Lycea the slave, but not entirely the Wolf. Her chest heaved up and down with her quickened breaths. She was caked from head to toe in blood. She picked Neya’s face out of the crowd and they stared at one another for a long moment before the tension was broken.

Neya dropped to one knee and raised her hands to the sky in prayer. “Praise be to Lycea, breaker of chains, have mercy upon us now. Let us serve you, Great Wolf. Let us serve and follow in your example.”

Lycea wasn’t sure what to do. She searched the courtyard for the Silver Wolf, only to see it had vanished.  A beat passed. Another. The air was electric. Filled with danger. She raised her face to the Moon and felt purpose, grand and terrible, fill her. She let out another howl, still as loud and wall-shaking as before. And a chorus of howls followed.

Lycea laid on the a damp pile of leaves on the forest floor, staring up at the night sky, clutching her newborn child to her chest. It seemed so much like the dreams she had beneath the roof of her former master’s home. Like it could all be pulled away from her like all the other things she had hoped and dreamt about as a slave. It had been months since that bloody night. Since she and her followers had set the Master’s home to the torch and his loyalists to the blade or the tooth.

She listened to the sound her child’s soft breathing set against that of her new brothers and sisters in blood and revolution. She listened to the sound of their singing and laughter. Neya had shown the youngest among them how to build a campfire and they’d taken to it quickly.  Neya was not the eldest among them but she was the most wise to the ways of the world outside of Derad Aisan’s walls. It had been by her guidance that Lycea had taken the steps she had. And in doing so, sparked the flames of revolt inside of Derad’s home.

Her son gurgled and whimpered in her arms and Lycea felt a flood of peace and insecurity run through her. They had been on the run for months, having only just slipped past the dragnet of the Wyld Hunt that had been called upon the heretic Wolf Goddess. On the run yes, but on their own terms. Gaining strength and numbers with each day.

Just tonight they had gained one more. She looked into her son’s face and felt a tear roll down her face. Real and hot against the cold night air. This was no dream. This was real. She turned her gaze up toward the Moon. “Watch over him, as you have watched over me. Let him live a life that knows no walls, no masters, no pain as I have known. Grant me this wish and for you, Luna, for you I will personally see that your enemies never know another peaceful night’s rest.”

#my writing #bls don't be mean to me about my writing #lycea #exalted rpg #exalted 3e #lunar exalted #content warnings for violence mature stuff and implied bad stuff #sometimes it be like that on this bitch of an earth

[winterblues]

hey i rlly love your writing sm!! could you maybe do an andreil one for this prompt: imagine person A knowing person B hasn't been eating properly for the last few days so person A makes them a proper meal from scratch that they can both eat together to make person B feel better? thank you!!!

[Thank you for the lovely prompt & I apologize in advance for the Angst™.]

Neil wipes a bead of sweat from his temple with the back of his wrist and bares his teeth. He’s got that acute glimmer of feral aggression behind his eyes again, Andrew observes, dully.  

The sort of expression often native to a prowling jungle cat attempting to intimidate a potential threat into premature submission. Andrew can’t help but see it as a phenomenal waste of energy, getting worked up over a stupid practice scrimmage, at Kevin Day of all short-fused idiots. 

No matter how close Andrew allows Neil to get, he will never be used to his exhaustive thirst for victory.

How many more goddamn exy-obsessed morons do I have to babysit in this lifetime?
Across the court, Kevin’s got a firm grip on his racquet as he glowers behind the netting at Neil as if through the barrel of a gun. It’s a late fall evening and the sky is a patchwork of pink-gold clouds, the moon sits a shrivel of a crescent in the rapidly darkening distance. 

Andrew watches his teammates with his characteristic lack-of-character, expression neutral as he remains stationed in position, racquet balanced on his shoulders like an afterthought.

He can hear Nicky whinging to Matt about something inconsequential Andrew doesn’t care enough to inquire about, Renee and Allison have been exchanging subtle glances across the court for two-and-a-half hours now. 

During their last sparring session, Renee mentioned in passing that she’d found another sparring partner in Allison. “She wants me to teach her how to fight. Says she wants to be prepared for anything. It’s like she doesn’t trust the world as much after everything that happened with Seth and Neil’s consequent revelation. It’s sad but I think it’s awfully brave of her, don’t you?” Andrew had merely blinked at her, unamused, before grappling her into a headlock she hadn’t seen coming and raising a knife to her throat. “Oops,” he said. “You’re dead.”

It isn’t until Andrew hears Kevin strike that he notices the hesitation in Neil’s jaw just as he slams the ball with lethal force and his knees buckle. He stumbles not even half a second after and Dan grabs ahold of him before he can crumple to the ground. Andrew feels his heart skip a couple of paces just as Wymack blows his warning whistle, calling a timeout. Kevin gawks in mystification for a moment before breaking into a disapproving scowl.

“The hell was that, Josten?” Wymack snaps, striding over to Neil and crossing his arms over his big chest. “I’m fine,” Neil grunts. “It won’t happen again.”

“You’re right,” Wymack replies, with a smile that’s at least two-fifths deliberate condescension. “It won’t, because right now you’re about as useful to me as a vegetable. I’m benching you for the rest of today.”

“Come on, Coach!” Nicky shouts, jogging up to where everyone is now crowding around Neil like he’s some kind of a helpless dog they all accidentally ran over with their cars. “Let’s just call an early mark. Please? We could all use a break!”

“I don’t,” Neil spits, balling his fists to his sides; eyes rapt on Wymack’s. Idiot. Wymack shoots a steely glare right back at him. “You play in peak condition or you don’t play at all. I won’t tolerate this half-assed bullshit. You hear me?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, I think you do. Now go pick a cozy corner to sulk in and don’t return to my court until you’re bleeding stamina or I will knock you flat on your ass myself. Do I make myself clear?”

“But—“

“I said,” Wymack’s tone becomes dangerously taut. “Do I make myself clear?”

At this point, even Nicky shuts his trap and takes an obedient step back, his expression pleading at Neil to do everything within his power to not trip on the Coach’s last nerve.

“You’re being unreasonable,” Neil growls, lowly. Nicky shakes his head in exasperation, just as Dan smoothly interjects, “I think what Coach is trying to say, Neil, as that you seem a little under the weather today. Maybe rest up a little and take it easy for the evening so that you’re better equipped for practice tomorrow?”

“Yeah, man,” Matt chimes in. “We’re just worried about your health.”

Andrew brings his racquet down and leans his body weight against it, still watching quietly from the sidelines. Renee shoots him a concerned glance and Andrew pretends not to notice.

“It’s insulting,” Kevin cuts in, with eyes only for Neil as he crosses the distance between them and parks himself merely inches from where Neil is standing. Andrew can’t say he envies Neil. He knows firsthand Kevin’s tendency to invite himself into one’s personal space whenever he gets cranky. “You’re insulting us all. I don’t know what the fuck’s been going on with you, but you better get your shit together because your breakdowns have no place on the court. Now do as Coach says before you waste any more of everyone’s time.”

Kevin and Neil spend a solid minute exchanging mind-imploding death glares at one another before Neil caves. He doesn’t look happy about it, but he flips Kevin off, turns on his heel and trudges off the court. Andrew watches Neil carefully. The fight is slowly pilfered from his shoulders and he lets his chin droop against his neck. There is something volatile about his defeated posture as he ambles right past the stands and towards the showers. Wymack turns to Andrew, expression irked but knowing.

“Goodbye.” Andrew says, before casually trailing after Neil.

“There isn’t enough whiskey in the goddamn world to put up with you ungrateful asshats on a daily basis,” Wymack mutters, under his breath before blowing his whistle again. “That’s enough dilly-dallying, maggots! We can practice without Tom and Jerry for now. Drop the long faces and give me forty-five laps. We’ll reassemble then. Go, go. Fucking go.”

“Crowdpleaser,” Andrew mumbles, coming up behind Neil.

Neil looks up at him without meeting his eyes. “Agree to disagree.”

Andrew joins Neil in the shower and they kiss until their mouths are numb and then Andrew drives them back home. They’re barely halfway through the door when King Fluffkins trots up to them and curls himself, not unlike a clingy toddler, around Andrew’s boot. “Get your cat off my foot,” Andrew mutters, at once. Neil shrugs off his coat, shuts the door behind them and smiles faintly. “And deprive him of cuddles? That’s abuse. Plus, he likes you.” Andrew groans and has to peel the feline off himself as he cradles King Fluffkins in his arms and deposits him on the couch next to a lazing Sir Fat Cat McCatterson. “Do that again and I won’t hesitate to turn your furry ass into a winter coat.”

King Fluffkins looks unfazed at this remark, but a short laugh escapes Neil. 

Andrew will never admit it, but Neil’s laugh sends a jolt of spring warmth up his spine. The kind that wedges itself in between shoulder blades and seeps into his ribcage. It is so full of raw, fleeting feeling that it fills every gap inside Andrew to a brimming point. 

Andrew sourly notes Neil hasn’t laughed like that in a week.

“What did we discuss about threatening our cats at every given moment?”

“Your cats.”

“Right. Whenever they piss you off they’re my cats.”

Neil follows the cats’ bad example, dropping dead on his back on the lounge room sofa and allowing the pests to crawl up onto his chest. Andrew empties the litter, brings them fresh water and fills their bowls to the top with food before wandering into the kitchen.

The weather grows worse within the span of the hour. The rain is loud as fuck outside. The wind droning on like the hum of a distraught choir. He chops a fresh batch of mushrooms, carrots and green bell peppers. He separates all the vegetables and leaves a stockpot of water to simmer. The oven is preheating. He cooks in mindless silence, all the while wondering why Neil isn’t venturing in to watch him like he usually does. There is something upsetting fizzling beneath his skin, like an itch he can’t scratch. He has this shitty gut feeling—hot and incendiary; an interloper awaiting recognition. He spends longer than intended in passive contemplation and his stockpot begins to overspill.

Andrew lowers the temperature of the gas and yanks the lid off the pot, swatting the steam away as if it were a school of flies.

He finds cooking less boring than he finds most activities in his daily life. Bee says it’s because cooking is an act of creation, which makes it a common stress reliever. People feel better about themselves when they’re creating. 

Andrew doesn’t know about that, but it’s a layman’s job to follow a recipe. 

There is something vaguely satisfying about it, he thinks. Cooking is meticulous and straight to the point. It doesn’t take thinking if your hands know what to do and your mind’s prone to estimate. If the recipe demands half a slab of melted butter he won’t add a pinch more or less. He’s fairly adept at following instructions and doesn’t feel the need to experiment. 

If nothing else, cooking is a way to pass the time and is vital to survival.

Eventually, Neil does float into the kitchen, looking jaded. Andrew keeps himself busy with seasoning and pays him no heat. “I’m going to bed,” he says quietly. Andrew halts, grabs a wooden spoon and dips it into the pot nearest to him, still hot off the stove. “Come here,” he replies. Neil joins his side as Andrew blows softly on the liquid before holding a spoonful up to Neil’s mouth.

“Taste.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Taste.”

Neil pouts a little, but obediently leans in and takes the smallest sip. “Mm,” he nods. “What is it?”

“Hot and sour soup.” Andrew says.

“Will it taste better off of your lips?” He leans in questioningly but Andrew neatly sidesteps, leaving Neil fumbling. “Sorry,” Neil remedies, quickly. 

“I didn’t mean to—“

“You’ll consume it directly first.” Andrew answers, in lieu of an explanation.

“It’s really good. I’ll uh… Have some tomorrow if there’s leftovers.”

Neil is about to turn when Andrew wraps cold, gentle fingers around his wrist. “Dinner will be served in ten minutes. Go outside and take a seat on the dining table.”

Something dire flashes in Neil’s heady blue eyes. “Andrew—“

“Don’t argue with me.”

It’s a full-fledged three-course assortment of homemade meals and Neil stares at it like it’s making him nauseous just to look at it. To Andrew, it smells heavenly: steaming hot-sour soup and chicken à la king with a side of sweet potato wedges. Andrew feels a pang of something irritable inside his chest. He doesn’t quite care whether Neil likes it or not. He isn’t allowed to be a baby about this. Not any fucking more.

“Eat,” he prompts. “Eat or I will force feed it down your gullet, yes?”

Neil sighs and begins to scoop an insufficient portion onto his plate, rather halfheartedly. Andrew snatches the spoon from him and begins to serve Neil himself, making sure to get an equally ample portion of each item available before helping himself.

“You will explain as we eat.”

“What?”

“Drop the clueless act and stop being this pathetic.”

When Neil merely blinks at him Andrew scoots closer to Neil in his chair, making it creak in protest against the wooden floor as he grabs Neil’s chin in his hand. He lowers Neil’s head and allows his eyes to bore into Neil’s. He’s lost every remaining morsel of his patience. “Do you take me for a fool?”

“No.”

“You’re treating me like one.”

“I’m not trying to. Fuck. Everyone’s just constantly on my ass about everything all the time and so what if I have a bad day or two. Am I not allowed the privilege—?”  

“Fuck everyone,” Andrew’s voice is dull and combustible. “Do I look like everyone?”

At this, Neil lowers his gaze to Andrew’s lips, back to his eyes and something within Neil’s own softens.

“Of course not,” he replies, voice more subdued now.

“I’ve had enough of your mopey bullshit,” Andrew says, letting go of Neil’s chin.

“Explain.” Andrew demands.

“It’s not a big deal.”

Everything inside Andrew knots up like curdled milk. There is a visible tension in Neil’s shoulders that is no doubt going to escape in a torrent; without a moment’s notice. Andrew doesn’t even have to prepare himself for it. He just wants to face it headfirst.

Andrew draws his mouth into a thin line. “If you lie to me again I won’t sit here and tolerate it.”

“It’s not something you’ll want to hear.”

“I don’t care,” Andrew snaps. “Tick tock.”

Neil takes a deep breath and lets it out through his nose and the words tumble out of his mouth like bullet shells. “I know that it’s naive but I thought he wasn’t going to be a problem, at least not for the foreseeable future. I will keep playing Exy until there is none of me left. That’s the deal. That’s how it goes but there are things I can’t control—if something happens to me? Something that makes me incapable of playing and—and then, he’ll turn the Foxes into collateral damage in my war.” Neil glances up to meet Andrew’s unflinching gaze. “Ichirou,” he says, the name sounding like a strained chord on a busted up guitar. “He flew down for a meeting and paid me a visit on a whim. He said things. He fucking—“ now there’s a keen rage seizing him. “He fucking threatened your life!”

“He’s threatened my life before.”

“Exactly! He’s made his point. I get it. We get it. This time, he was doing it to taunt me, to remind me that we’re all ultimately just pawns on his sick little chessboard. He’s screwing with me.”

Andrew leans calmly back into his chair and says nothing, waiting for Neil to calm down. At this point, Neil is seething, his breath choked out in rattled gasps. He’s got a white-knuckled grip on either end of the table.

“That wasn’t something I could stand. Listening to that bastard pompously claim all the things he could do to you, count off the ways he could make you disappear without a trace. Why should I have to put up with this crap? Why do I have to keep living beneath the Moriyamas’ shadow? Sitting there, listening to him recite what he’s capable of—hurting you. It reminded me that I’m still the Butcher’s son, that I should be raining hell down on anyone who even thinks of touching us—Touching you.”

Neil is shivering now, his words coming out in escaped sobs. His entire body’s a wreck. He’s a wreck.

Andrew’s stomach twists as conviction stronger than anything Andrew’s ever felt burns in Neil’s voice.

“Do you remember what I told you?” Andrew asks, promptly. 

“I—“

“What did I tell you?”

He watches the muscles work under Neil’s clenched jaw.

“To bury Nathaniel in Baltimore with his father.”

“Neil is your only truth from now on, or have you forgotten?”

“I haven’t.”

“You cannot object what is irrefutable.”

“I won’t let them, Andrew. I can’t… Because that would be pathetic.”

“If there is a single part of you that is still Nathaniel, I do not want anything to do with it. Are we clear?”

Neil is at an utter loss of words before he attempts to gather himself, something unsteady flashing in his eyes. Andrew does not care if his truth is a harsh pill to swallow. Neil will learn. This is the man he chose to protect, the man he sleeps with, the man who is his.

Another irrefutable truth—Neil Josten; not some phantom burnout son-of-a-killer.


“Are you digging him back up?”“No. What’s dead is dead.”

“Good,” Andrew won’t admit the relief his words warrant. “I want you to remember you said that.”

“It’s just—“ Neil sighed. “I haven’t been able to eat or sleep since talking to him. I keep seeing your dead body at my feet or— or worse and I feel like throwing up. It’s that same, ringing sense of dread all over again. The dread I felt when Riko threatened you, before I made my decision to go to Evermore. All I can think about is the need to eliminate the threat. I want to kill him.”

“Don’t be irrational.”

“I can’t just let him get away with this.”

“That is exactly what you’re going to do. Neil,” Andrew says. “Yes or—?”

Bright eyes sharp as stained glass. “Yes.”

Andrew takes Neil’s hand in his own and presses it to the side of his neck, just beneath his jugular vein so that Neil can feel Andrew’s pulse beating underneath the skin there. “Not to indulge your creepy neck fetish or anything but,” he cups his own hand over where he’s holding Neil’s. “I’m here.”

“Whenever—if anything happens, I’ll still be here.” Andrew says. “Nod if you understand.”

Neil lets out another shaky breath and nods slowly, eyes steady on Andrew’s. Watching him unravel on his bad days is always somewhat of a stale realization. There is a part of Andrew that thinks it isn’t fair. When did things become this critical? Before… He wasn’t feeling unless he was feeling empty, the only time the world felt real was when he was standing at the edge of it, staring down at what could quite possibly be a bottomless death. He never used to know what to do with his hands, not until Neil had reminded him, anyway. 

“They’re your hands,” cigarette lounging lazily at the corner of lips chapped stupid, eyes so wide they could be confused for open sores, hair ruffled in the wind.

He’d wanted nothing.

Now he is surviving on that very nothing, cultivating a life from every breath that leaves nothing’s lips.

Careful what you fucking wish for.

Neil’s fingers are warm as they curl up to grip the back of Andrew’s neck. He still looks shaken, furious; as if he wants to turn the world on its head and fight it. There’s still an unkempt tenseness to his posture. Andrew hates it. 

“I don’t care,” Neil announces. “I don’t care if they kill me. Ever since I was born I’ve been ready to die if it comes down to it. That’s the philosophy I was raised on.”

Andrew reads the implication on his face even before he has to make it clear.

“They can’t have you.”

You think it’s cute throwing my own words back in my face?

“Still playing at rabbit?” Andrew says, after a pause. “You know better than to waste energy fretting over shit that you can’t control, or have you not learned anything?”
“My learning curve’s a horizontal line, remember?” Neil replies, a suggestive hint in the twist of his lips.

“Coincidentally the position you’ll be lying in your coffin when I’m done with you.”

“Death kink or neck fetish. Which one’s weirder? We should ask Nicky.”

“I hate you.”

“Me too.”

“I mean it.”

Neil’s fingers against his skin. Alive, alive. 

“That’s what I love about you.”

Andrew scoffs and pushes Neil’s hand off before turning back around in his chair. “Your food will get cold,” he mutters, tone finite.

“Okay.”

“The next time you skip a meal you can sustain on whatever the cats are having.”

“Thank you.”

They eat in the sort of silence that swells over a small town after it’s been ransacked by a hurricane but still left standing. It’s a dizzying, electric sort of silence. The sort you can feel in your bones. When they’re done, Neil helps clear the plates away and they pad up to their bedroom.

King Fluffkins follows as Sir Fat Cat McCatterson continues to doze in his delegated spot.

“That was the best dinner I’ve ever had. I’ll starve myself all the time if that means you’ll cook for me more often.” That dark look in Neil’s eyes has dissolved into something clearer as he rolls over onto his side and begins to press kneading kisses down the side of Andrew’s jaw.

“Shut up.”

“It’s true,” Neil’s words are muffled against Andrew’s heated skin. “You know last week, Nicky was treating all of us to dinner and he asked me what my favorite dish was and I told him I didn’t actually know. Dan and Matt totally freaked out.” Neil’s hand stills over Andrew’s cheek for a brief moment. “My mother never used to cook. I know how to whip up your standard meals. Enough to keep me going. Omelettes, sandwiches, breakfast burritos. You name it. I’ve pretty much got microwaving down to an art form too, but I’ve never eaten anything like… This.”

Neil leans over and presses a soft kiss to Andrew’s lips, the kind that spreads out like the petals of a flower.

“It tastes like real home food,” he smiles against Andrew’s face before gently meeting Andrew’s unwavering gaze. 

“You can touch me if you want.” Andrew’s voice is hoarse.

Neil looks slightly hesitant as he lets one of his hands gently slip beneath the hem of Andrew’s shirt.

Andrew closes his eyes at the contact. Neil’s touch is respectful, delicate, debilitating. Andrew’s skin is fever-warm against Neil’s cool fingertips. Andrew doesn’t want Neil to be able to detect the shortness of his breaths but he can bet Neil feels them.

“I’d like to extend my compliments to the chef,” Neil says, fingers faltering along the waistband of Andrew’s sweatpants. “Properly.”

Andrew grunts a quiet affirmation and Neil slides down, pulling the covers over his head. 

He pushes the covers away in quick retaliation.

Eyes intent on Neil’s.

“I want to see you.”

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