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panda-writes-kpop · 2 years

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Demon! SuA - Tainted Love

A/N: Hi guys, girls, and non-binary pearls! This is a bit of a longer piece, so I'd grab a water and maybe something to eat before sitting down. You might want to grab some tissues while you're up, if you're wondering what kind of fic this is. Also, big thank you to @kingmaker-a for giving this fic a read before it came out! I had to have the Angstmaker give his stamp of approval if I was gonna write some angst, and I'm so glad that I did. 💖

Masterlist!

TW: Mentions of labyrinths, lots of angst, author venting, demons (no duh, Katie), self-deprication, mentions of food, serial killers, and hell, more angst, a toxic relationship, blood, mention of oceans and drowning, implied torture (?), mentions of death, religious themes, reader drinks alcohol, no happy ending :), also SuA acts very ooc and I definitely would not use this as an accurate judge of her character or personality.

Sometimes I feel I've got to

Run away I've got to

Everyone faces a labyrinth of sorts in their life. Whether it’s the physical limitations of their body, the mental anguish that comes with living life, or that feeling of isolation that everyone experiences from time to time, the personalized labyrinth of life comes for us all at one point or another.

Most people find an escape to their labyrinth. You can strengthen your body so you can push the limits of your body, you can talk to someone who can help you understand and control your feelings, and you can find comfort in the love of your friends and family when you feel alone.

My labyrinth, however, is one that I will never escape. It has a tight grip on me that I will never escape because I don’t want to let go of it. My labyrinth is my crutch, and it’s a poison that’s killing me from the inside. I can never let go of the thing that I want the most, no matter how much I want to run from it.

Love. Love is the labyrinth that I choose to face head-on. No matter how much love bites me, I want to believe that love will be my savior even though it’s my torturer. I let myself get hurt over and over again for a simple what if that will never come my way.

What if… that’s a statement that will lead you to an endless amount of questions that will never lead you to the answer that you seek.

What if I talked to them more? What if I was a better listener? What if I was more attractive? What if I was smarter?

What if instead of trying to gain love advice from a demon and then falling in love with her, I just talked to someone about my problems?

What if?

I guess that’s the reason I’m trying to run away. How do you get away from the problems that you create? How do you find your escape to the labyrinth?

In my case, I answered both of those questions in the stupidest way possible.

Get away

From the pain you drive into the heart of me

Everything started when I was young. That’s where that labyrinth of love started to surround me, and I wasn’t able to find an escape.

When we were kids, we threw love around as a silly word that didn’t mean much. Love was just another normal expression that we used on a day-to-day basis. We loved drawing, we loved playing on the swing set, and we loved being young and free to do as we pleased.

As a teenager, love has a different meaning. Love can be used as a sweet safety blanket or a fiery weapon of destruction. It wouldn’t be uncommon to see a couple act all lovey-dovey in the morning, and then you’d see them arguing by the end of the day. Love was used as an excuse for horrible actions and bad mistakes. Love became a sword that would protect you or harm you. The scary thing was, you didn’t know which sword was which until someone tried to use it against you.

Love was like a whispered secret that I had yet to discover. A secret that had yet to make its rounds to my ear, but even then, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to hear it. I mostly stayed out of the dating scene as a teen, but I did try and fail a few times. Every time the hope of love would build me up to a new height, the reality of me not being good enough for the people I was interested in would bring me back down to Earth. I was scorned by love, but I kept trying because I was a stupid kid.

I trapped myself in my own labyrinth of love. I put myself through so much trauma that I distanced myself from the world. I felt unlovable because the world had yet to tell me that I was. I convinced myself that some white knight would come and save me from this labyrinth. I didn’t want to leave, so someone would have to come rescue me.

As for that white knight, I didn’t exactly have a demon whose job was to screw me over in mind.

Now, as an adult, I have yet to discover what love is to me. Is love innocent like childhood, or is it as harmful as my teenage mind made it out to be? Was love both or neither?

I didn’t know love until I saw her. Everything that I felt before that moment didn’t matter. I’d forgotten how much love had betrayed me when I went up and talked to her for the first time. I didn’t need anyone else if she was by my side.

We weren’t kids, and we weren’t teens. We were adults who could make a relationship work, right? I just had to make her fall for me like I had fallen for her.

...But love has different plans that left me alone in the labyrinth once again. She fell in love with someone who was better than I was, and I simply couldn’t be mad at her for that. She deserves someone who would love her, and that obviously wasn’t me.

Heartbroken, I wandered home alone the day I found out about her partner. I didn’t care that it was dark, and that I could’ve gotten hurt. I felt numb like nothing in the world could hurt me. I felt like I couldn’t hurt myself even though my body would feel the pain later on.

That’s when I found the book. A torn book with ripped pages and scribbled handwriting. That book would show me how to escape my labyrinth by placing me in an even bigger one.

I should’ve left that god-forsaken book on the sidewalk, or in the trash where it belonged.

I, being the fool that I am, had to pick up the book. A bit of light reading couldn’t hurt after a rough day, right?

Right?

The love we share

Seems to go nowhere

I came home and closed the door behind me while clutching the book close to my chest. It was my prized possession that I had won for losing at the most important aspect in life.

I set my coat and other material possessions aside for the book, and I turned on a lamp and sat down in a nearby chair.

I merely skimmed the book as I tried to decipher its hidden meaning. Why would a book like that appear in my life if it didn’t mean something? Everything in the world meant something to someone. As I admired those pages, I tried to think of what use that book would have to me. It’s unreadable handwriting had no monetary value, and the book looked like it had been through hell and back.

Oh, only if I knew that book really had been through hell.

Sleep quickly overcame me as I finished searching through the book, and I gently set the book on the table next to me.

Too tired to walk to bed, I simply slept on that chair as my mind spent another night dreaming of those stupid ‘what ifs’.

I arose in a state of complete disarray as the morning light peeked through my home’s windows. Luckily, it was the weekend and I didn’t have to worry about working the next day.

I pulled myself out of the chair and began to prepare breakfast. Breakfast was the most important meal of the day, but I didn’t care to eat much as my mind still wandered over the what ifs of life.

What if I had made a move earlier? What if I waited until they broke up to date her? What if I wasn’t good enough for her? What if, what if, what if.

At that moment, while drowning my sorrows in a bowl of cereal and milk, I met “the one”.

She wasn’t anything like the girl from earlier. The girl I loved was sweeter than honey and had a heart made of gold.

The girl that I was about to meet would make serial killers look like saints if they stood next to her.

All I remember was looking up, and she was there. While I sat with that bowl of depressing cereal in front of me, she leaned over me and gently scanned me over with her eyes. Her hand gently graced my face for a moment, and I remember feeling like I wanted her to keep her hand there forever.

The girl leaned away from me before chuckling. She stuck her hand out as the morning light illuminated her fierce features.

Her strong jawline would make a model jealous, and her piercing brown eyes could cut straight through someone without a second glance. Her black suit defined her perfect figure as her brown hair seemed to float behind her head.

Everything about her screamed dangerous and deadly, but I couldn’t see the beast past the beauty in front of me. I didn’t question how she got in my house or why such a beautiful woman was in front of me.

To be fair, I didn’t really care at that moment in time, either.

She laughed again before wiggling her fingers in her extended hand. That laugh was a sound that I loved and dreaded. She used it when she was happy, or when she was very mad.

“The name’s SuA, and by the way you’re looking at me, I can tell we’ll be great pals.”

Pals, as SuA said it, would be the last word in the dictionary that I would use to describe our relationship.

Our relationship was like an endless loop of love, hurt, pain, and apologies. She was the labyrinth that I trapped myself in after escaping the loveless one.

Turns out, the only thing that’s worse than a loveless labyrinth is a labyrinth that is tainted with a love that’ll break you to your core.

And I've lost my light

For I toss and turn I can't sleep at night

I sat there, stunned by her forwardness. Was she really talking to me? Was a woman that perfect really in my home? Did my dreams finally come to fruition, or had I finally gone mad from my desires?

Stupidly, I slipped my hand into hers, and I shaked it while trying to understand what exactly was happening.

“Y/N. I can’t help but wonder, why exactly are you in my home?”

SuA’s laughter hit my ears again, and I’d already become addicted to the sound of her happiness that echoes through my home.

“Oh, you humans are so naive! It’s adorable.” SuA gently tapped my nose which caused a wildfire of red to spread across my face. “You summoned me with that handy-dandy book that you found.”

My eyes widened as I grabbed the book from the table.

I was in absolute disbelief of what she was suggesting to me. Summoning? Demons are summoned, and the woman in front of me didn’t look like a demon.

Well, demons aren’t just called demons because of their looks. That was a lesson that I had yet to learn when this encounter took place.

I, in a moment of blinding idiocracy, asked her the first thing that came to mind.

“So, does that make you a demon?”

“Unless angels have started popping up from bibles, and the last time I checked they haven’t, I’m the only creature that you can find from a book.”

SuA sighed before pulling her hand from me. She then raised one hand in the air which caused every object that was on my table, including my bowl of cereal, to float in the air. The objects nearly touched my ceiling by the time SuA lowered her hand to her side.

My mouth was wide open in shock as SuA flashed me a wicked smirk. Was she really that powerful?

“You like what you see, right? That’s only the beginning of what we could do together. We can be a great team, but I need you to trust me.”

SuA took a seat on top of my small kitchen table before snatching the leather-bound book.

“Hey, what are you-”

“Hush.” SuA closed her hand, and at the exact same time, my hand covers my mouth. “You’re a lot more attractive when you stop talking.”

I grumbled in slight protest as I blushed out of embarrassment. SuA simply shakes her head before opening the book.

“God, I missed this thing. I’m glad that I was bound to this book because of how powerful it is.” SuA flipped through a few pages. “Ah, yes, the spells about torture, pain, heartbreak, romance-”

Her eyes glanced over to me after she said the word ‘romance’, and she chuckled as my eyes widened at its mentioning.

“You poor lovesick fool. You’ve fallen in love with someone who doesn’t love you back, right?”

I nodded my head before SuA clicked her tongue.

“I can fix that for you, if you’d like. All I need is your permission.”

SuA relaxed her hand, and my hand dropped from my mouth. I took a deep breath before answering.

“Please help me out, SuA. Do whatever you need to.”

I didn’t sleep that night, but for the first time in a long time, it wasn’t due to those stupid ‘what ifs’. I opened a whole can of worms that I had to deal with on my own.

As I rolled back and forth on my bed, I tried to forget everything that happened, but I couldn’t.

Everything about SuA stuck out in my mind. I already could envision her smiles, laughter, or smirks with a simple thought. I knew where my mind was going before I was able to make the conclusion.

I was crushing on a demon that was doing god knows what in order to get me a girl I didn’t want anymore. I had stopped thinking about her the moment SuA appeared.

SuA was charismatic, funny, and an interesting person to be around. Why hadn’t I figured this out earlier? I could’ve told her then, and this whole mess wouldn’t have happened.

The mess I am referring to is the only mess that a demon knows how to make.

You see, giving a demon the freedom to do anything is like playing Russian Roulette. You don’t know what the hell is about to happen, but it’s about to be bloody and ugly.

I shouldn’t have let a demon become a beacon of light for me. I should’ve stayed in my closet-sized labyrinth and waited for better days to come.

Go read a book or go outside. Talk to someone if you’re not feeling well. Whatever you do, don’t pick up strange books, accidentally summon a very attractive demon, and then fall in love with her. It’s a very awful, bad, and an all-around horrendous idea.

When SuA walked in with blood on her hands, the first thing I should’ve asked about was who she hurt. Demons can’t be hurt because they’re immortal.

In another moment of stupidity, I asked her if she was okay.

SuA simply sighed before saying, “It's done. You’re welcome, by the way.”

“What did you do?”

“You don’t want to know.” SuA deadpans before walking into my bathroom.

I assumed that she was cleaning the blood off, and I didn’t want to know anymore than I had to. I simply let what had happened happen. I had no control over her, and besides, she can’t do something that bad to a living person. Demons should have some sort of self-control, right?

Should have, could have, would have. Those are three phrases that I hate more than what ifs. What ifs are just questions that you ask yourself over and over. Eventually, your mind grows tired and they stop.

But those words, they never stop. They’ll put you right back into your past mistakes until you’re drowning in a sea of regret, misery, and self-pity. You won’t be able to breathe because the waves of endless possibilities will crash against you over and over until you stop fighting it. You don’t swim when you’re thinking about everything you could’ve, should’ve, would’ve done in a certain scenario. You sink as those thoughts pull you in like a heavy anchor that is attached to your ankle.

I should’ve swam far away when I first saw SuA. I should’ve left the country and gotten a new life. That would’ve put me in a much better position than I’m in now.

But I choose to be continuously pulled into the riptide. At this point in time, it’s a waiting game until I drown myself in my own misery.

Once I ran to you (I ran)

Now, I'll run from you

“Why the hell did you kill them?” I frantically waved my hands at the television as you tried to catch SuA’s attention.

Apparently, SuA’s fingernails were more important than my external panic as she stared at her nails while shrugging her shoulders.

“You told me to do whatever I needed to, and I did.”

“That wasn’t what I meant!” I yell as I nearly pull hairs out of my head while pacing back and forth in my living room.

“Jeez, take a chill pill. I wouldn’t have maimed them if I knew you were going to act like this.”

“You did WHAT?”

A couple’s first fight usually happens after a first date, first kiss, and if they’re lucky, when they first move in together. Since SuA and I are the off-brand version of a normal romantic relationship, we apparently decided to do things a bit out of order.

That being said, we weren’t exactly a couple back then, and I’m not sure if I would call us a couple now, after everything that’s happened.

“I just broke a few bones, dunked them in a nice ice bath, and then tossed them on a side of a road where there’s a lot of oncoming traffic. Whatever happened after that wasn’t directly my fault.” SuA said while digging through my fridge. “What kind of monster doesn’t have orange juice?”

“Hey, get out of there!” I turned the TV off before rushing over to her. “I haven’t had time to go to the store.”

“Do you mind if I make a sandwich?”

“I don’t know, SuA. Do you plan on killing anyone else?” I exasperatedly sighed before leaning on the fridge.

SuA bit her lip before closing the fridge door.

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’, then.”

We both stood there awkwardly as we tried to think of something to say to one another. We came to a threshold that couldn’t be crossed. Granted, most couples don’t exactly tend to fight about murdering someone, but we tried to make it work.

“What happens next?” I softly asked. “How do we fix this?”

“There’s no fixing this, Y/N. I’m a demon, not a miracle worker. We go on with our lives. You get the girl, and I get the book. We have had a mutually beneficial relationship so far, and I’m glad to have met you, but I’ve really got to go now.”

SuA tried to grab the book from the table, but I grabbed it before she could.

“What if I told you that I didn’t want her anymore?”

SuA rolls her eyes before crossing her arms.

“You’re telling me that I murdered someone just for you to get wishy-washy on me? How pathetic.” She spit out before looking at me with disgust.

“I’m not the one who murdered someone. You did that all on your own. Besides, the girl that I have my eye on is much prettier than the first.”

SuA raises an eyebrow.

“Oh, and who would that be?”

SuA unfolded her arms before walking towards me. I kept a blank face as she closed in on me. I can feel my heartbeat all over my body as my mind begins to wander.

Would she let me kiss her? I guess I can find out now.

SuA put her face close to mine, and I’m so close that I could feel her breath tickle my cheek. This is everything I’ve ever wanted, but I can’t be the first one to make the move.

If she’s the one to save me from my labyrinth, then SuA must show that she's interested in me first.

I didn’t have to think twice as SuA’s lips connect with mine.

The taste of black licorice entered my mouth, and it was a flavor that I was permanently hooked on. No candy nor sweet could compare to her. Everything about her was perfect, and everything about that moment was perfect too.

SuA and I were like two shooting stars. We had two different paths in the night sky that eventually led us to one another. Normally, stars don’t collide with one another, but we did. Unfortunately, when two stars collide, they don’t stick together.

They explode.

This tainted love you've given

I give you all “a boy” could give you

Take my tears and that's not nearly all

I had tried to make it work. I knew that nothing would work when it came to SuA. She was a demon, and I was mortal. You can’t combine oil and water because they eventually separate from each other. We might have been oil and water, but we couldn’t let go of one another right from the start to the very end.

I knew how this would end. All of the fighting and screaming had to end sometime. I thought it would end with her walking out on me, and to her credit, SuA did walk out, but she always came right back to me.

I wasn’t much better, either. I told her how much I hated everything about her even though I loved her to death. I told her that she was a horrible person even though she was the only person that I could trust. I told her to never lay another hand on me even though she’d be holding me by nightfall.

We were both victims and perpetrators in a crime of passion and love. No cops would catch us because we’d act fine on the outside, like nothing had happened. Our relationship was perfect because that’s all the neighbors needed to worry about.

Oh, that screaming that you heard? Sorry, the music was too loud!

The sound of glass breaking woke you up at one in the morning? Sorry, my girlfriend had the munchies and she accidentally dropped the glass container of cookies. You don’t have to worry about us!

That crying sound? We had a movie night with a few friends, and some of us got really emotional. We’ll try to pick something happier next time.

Lies, lies, lies. It seemed like everything in our relationship was built on a lie.

SuA wasn’t the one who lied. Oh, no, I had to be the bad guy.

Of course I was the antagonist. We both weren’t to blame for a failing relationship, right? It was all my fault because I started this whole thing.

SuA didn’t have to kiss me. She didn’t have to save me from my labyrinth. She could’ve left me alone while running off with that magic book of hers.

But no, she kissed me and here we are. SuA slammed the door in my face after another heated fight, and I’m drinking my sorrows away while trying to figure out where I went wrong.

I do this once a week, but I haven’t learned my lesson. I know that SuA will come home and degrade me for drinking alone, but I’ll sit and take it on my chin in the name of “love”.

What sort of sick, twisted love have we wrapped ourselves in? This isn’t love, and I know it. Hell, I’m sure SuA does too.

Sure, love can hurt, but you shouldn’t feel like you’re being run over by a fifty-ton dump truck every time you talk to your partner. Love can burn, but you shouldn’t be covered in third-degree burns on a daily basis. Love can make you bleed, but you shouldn’t be left to die with cuts all over your body.

I take a swig of the drink in front of me, and I enjoy feeling it burn as the liquid travels down my throat.

Nothing can hurt you more than love except your thoughts, and I’ve been hurt by both on numerous occasions.

Without thinking, I take my drink and chuck it at the TV in front of me. Of course, the TV screen shatters along with the drink. I know that SuA will be pissed when she comes home, but I don’t care about our relationship or what others may think.

Numbness has replaced any sort of feeling I have towards her. We can dance this dance as many times as we wish because I won’t let her words or actions hurt me anymore.

My feet wobble as I make my way over to the couch. As soon as my body hits the couch, the tears flow from my face as the weight of my actions crashes down on me.

I’ll never escape this labyrinth. I’m stuck in a labyrinth that I made with my own desires. My home is my prison, and my heart is prisoner. I’m simply a vessel that carries my heart and emotions from place to place.

This labyrinth has spiraled out of control, and it’s bigger than my relationship with SuA. My mind, my thoughts, my actions, and my words are my labyrinth. SuA’s just a pawn that my mind uses to reason with me. It’s sick and it’s twisted, but I can’t help but to want more of that sweet drug that my brain offers me. I don’t want to be here anymore, but I can’t escape my mind even if I leave SuA.

As my eyes close, one final thought enters my mind, and it’s the worst one yet.

I’ve done all of this thinking and contemplating. I know how I want to act, and I know what I should do next. I need to leave SuA, and I need to get help for whatever’s going on in my head. I just know that I can’t because I won’t remember a single thing that I’ve thought about in the morning, and I’ll continue running around my labyrinth like nothing is wrong.

Oh, tainted love

Tainted love

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moinstar · 3 years

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Moin MC x Diavolo (self-indulgent fic)

The hallways echoed with the inconsistent sound of heels clopping against tiles. The young human slowed in her steps, leaning against the wall. Some of her reddish bangs had been plastered on her sweaty forehead and she had closed her eyes as she took another deep breath. She swallowed heavily and clutched at her chest. Her rapid heartbeat pounding on her ears: making the quiet hallway deafening to her. She tried to keep the tears from falling as she walked slowly towards the nearby restroom, her thoughts spiraled with a raging storm.

(I know that I wasn't like them. I have a lot to learn. Why does the professor need to single me out and make me feel dumb?)

(Mammon's also not listening, why am I the one getting all the laughs and mockery? Is it because I'm human?)

(I'm trying to study silently and just pass this year without any issues. I want to live peacefully. But I guess not all demons are actually good. I mean, they're demons for fuck's sake. I should've know better.)

(Why, of all people, did I get picked anyways? Solomon is a sorcerer, I'm not. I'm not special. I've always been a second option. Maybe they made a mistake and I'll just be brought back to the human realm soon. Or, maybe they'll eat me afterwards since I knew about the demon realm?)

(I'm just average. Lucifer will get disappointed. Lord Diavolo will be disappointed. Everyone thinks of me as a potential food. I just wish they'd just get over it and eat me now. I'm just a burden. I never wanted this. I don't know who to live for.)

As her knees buckled and her tears fell, a warm chest cushioned her fall. Fearing that her wish might've been heard, she gasped and struggled to get out of the person's hold. Through her blurry vision, everywhere was red and a bit of black and gold.

"-ay?" The voice was inaudible as she fought to regain her senses. However, the deafening sound of her heartbeat got too painful so she clutched her chest to try and regulate her breathing. The person stood in front of her and hesitantly patted her back, running his warm hands to her tensed shoulders.

"-in... -oin..."

(Please let me die. Please let me die. Please eat me. Please let me be. I want to disappear. I don't want to think about anything else.)

"Breathe." His firm hand rested by her left jaw. His large palm cradling her neck up to her jaw, fingers tangled to her wet red locks. He was letting her hold his other hand in a tight grip, providing an anchor.

He patiently waited as she tried to breathe normally. His hand left her face and massaged the one that was gripping at his, continuously speaking encouraging words.

As soon as she regained her normality, she recognized the young prince kneeling in front of her with a worrying look in his eyes. He was still massaging the hand that was gripping his.

"Have you calmed down, Moin?" His soothing voice made her alarmed.

"I-I-I... I'm s-sorry. I was... I'm sorry for the trouble, s-sir," she stuttered as she tried to stand up but her legs wouldn't move from the numbness that overtook while sitting by the hallway.

"What happened? Did someone hurt you?"

She shook her head. She wanted to explain more but the stuttering made her feel ridiculous. She slowly withdrew her hand and clutched it to the hem of her coat. The tingle of warmth subsides and she almost wanted to hold his hand again. Almost.

"Are you sure?" She nodded, looking away and hid her tear-streaked eyes behind her bangs.

Diavolo stood up and offered a hand. She took it but her body felt heavy and numb that she barely lifted herself.

"I... I..." Her face shifted to terror, afraid of being stuck sitting in the hallway in a weakened state, unable to protect herself from demons who would harm her.

"I'll take you to the infirmary. You're not well." Just as he was about to lift her up, she shook her head and leaned away from his arms. He was about to ask why but she beat him to it.

"Back... I look h-horrible so can you... carry me on your back?"

She didn't want anyone to look at her even more. Her anxiety of being seen by the prince himself in this weakened state doubled.

(What if Lord Diavolo thinks I'm not fit for this program anymore? Is he going to discard me somewhere?)

(Ahhh! I'm so embarrassed. I got tears and snot all over. I look ugly. The prince will definitely think I'm disgusting. Who breaksdown in the middle of classes anyway?)

He turned, his backside facing her, and said, "Can you manage?"

She wiped her tears and sniffed, nodding and crawled towards him. Grabbing his shoulders, she dragged herself towards his back and encircled her arms by his neck. He grabs her thighs and positioned it on his sides as he slowly stood carefully. She tightened her grip, feeling like she didn't properly situated herself on his back. Diavolo bounced her once to fix her position and she yelped as she buried her face to the soft cape connecting to the back of his collar.

"I apologize. You were falling." He looked over his shoulder to check to see if she was okay. Her face was still buried and she inhaled deeply at his comforting scent.

Receiving no response from her, he started walking down the hallway.

"Thank... you." She breathed as his rocking steps lulled her to slumber.

The prince smiled at that, glad to know he helped her in a way. As he rounded the corner, he almost bumped into Lucifer.

"Diavolo! Where have you-"

He shushed him before the black haired man could even yell more at him. Lucifer raised an eyebrow and shifted his look to the person he's carrying on his back.

"Moin? Why is she sleeping on your back?"

"She wasn't well when I saw her. I didn't know what happened but she was in distress. I got her to calm down and now I'm taking her to the infirmary to be checked up." He whispered as he continued to walk. Lucifer catching up to his side.

He studied her puffy eyes and sweaty face. It wasn't the composed girl he used to see in his day by day. The Moin he knew was always smiling and naive. Even amidst the chaotic banters and conversations that he and his brothers have, she's the only person who stood quietly, listening to each and every person's voice. To him, he thinks she's like a lighthouse among the raging storm by the sea. And now, looking at her weakened state, that image crumbled along with it. He wasn't disappointed, per se. He was surprised that he got to see a new side of her that she wouldn't normally show to them.

"Lucifer, can you put her to bed?"

Diavolo's voice snapped him out of his trance and immediately prepared the bed. As he turned to get her off of the prince's back, he took a moment to wipe her dried tears. Lucifer proceeded to hook his arms behind her head then under her thighs and carried her gently to the bed. This is the first time he held her close but, for some reason, it didn't feel comfortable.

At the back of his mind, a long lost memory began to nudge his thoughts.

"We still need to take care of things, Diavolo." He rose and reached for his phone. "I'll message Mammon so he can watch over Moin for the time being."

The man in the red uniform approached the sleeping human. Touching her forehead, he couldn't make out if she's feeling feverish but her sweat never ceased forming. He unbuttoned her coat and carefully removed it on her person. After hanging her coat, he proceeded to tuck the blanket just until under her chin. With one last look at her form, he went out of the room.

"She's very diligent, no?" It wasn't a question. Merely to compliment her in front of the stoic man while on their way.

Lucifer hummed in approval. "My brothers had taken a liking to her. I appreciate the extra hand in keeping them in line."

"And? Haven't you also taken a liking to her too? Whenever she's around, there's gentleness around you."

He huffed. "Do you want me to be harsh to them? What are you implying?"

Diavolo's golden eyes gaze upon his red ruby ones, as if searching for an answer. The momentary silence made Lucifer glance at his companion.

"She's tolerable. Aside from her ever wandering curiousity that puts her into trouble, I... don't really dislike her."

The young prince smiled, quite happy even with the curt reply.

(Quite the growing family.) He thought as he gazed at his left hand, indented with half moons on his ring finger.

#obey me diavolo #obey me mc #moin mc #obey me lucifer #self-indulgent shit #fanfic #so forgive my noob-ass fic writing #also thanks to Rei for proofreading #tw deppressive thoughts

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maeve-writes · 3 years

Text

The Significance of Fair Food

Pairings: Human!Castiel x Reader

Rating: General

Warnings: Fluff, bad decisions.

Summary: You talk the boys into making a stop during your travels and you show Castiel the joys of being human.

a/n: This was written for a SPN challenge years ago.

My three categories were: Fair, snow cone, getting sunburnt.

This is unbeta'd, please forgive any mistakes. This is also my first time writing Castiel, so forgive me if it’s a little... off.

Formally posted on the account @plaided-ani

When you asked the boy to make a pit stop, the last thing they expected was to end up pulling into a fairgrounds parking lot. The world was ending, again, you had demons and angels and everything in between after the four of you, but damned if it didn’t seem like a good idea. “Dude,” Dean reasoned with his brother, slapping him on his arm, “fair food.”

“Yes,” you chirped, popping your head between them from the backseat. You wrapped your hands around Sam’s shoulders, fingers digging into the tense muscle and you shook him like a maraca. “Yes!”

“What’s the significance of fair food,” Castiel inquired beside you, curious eyes watching Sam’s head snap to and fro from your jarring.

You rounded on him immediately, releasing Sam before you slid into the former angel’s personal space, slinging your arm around his shoulders. “Castiel,” your voice was quiet, intimate, “fair food is the most delicious nourishment that humans have to offer.” You reached up and ran a hand down his cheek and forced him to look you in the eye, “And all of it’s fried.”

He stared at you unblinkingly, puffy lips slightly parted in confusion. You were a hair’s length apart, close enough to be sharing the same lungs, and he nodded once causing his nose brush against yours.

“If you two are done making out,” Dean cleared his throat, arm perched over the back of his seat to glare at you. “I want a corndog.”

You immediately released Cas and then turned to scramble out of the car. You joined up with Dean, hooking your arm around his and the pair of you charged the fair’s main gate, Sam and Castiel trailing behind you.

The sun was out in full force and what little clouds floating in the sky provided no comfort from it’s heated rays. You turned your head up, eyes closed to bask in the warm as you four waited in line for the first vendor that Dean deemed acceptable.

“Fried butter,” Castiel droned behind you, “that doesn’t sound very healthy.”

“It doesn’t have to be healthy, Cas,” Dean replied, pulling you forward as the queue moved, “it’s fair food.”

Sam huffed in annoyance and shook his head, “That’s not an excuse to clog your arteries.”

“Yes, it is,” you and Dean replied simultaneously.

You righted your head and turned to glare up at the youngest Winchester, but you caught sight of Castiel clutching at his chest, his fingers clenching around the soft white shirt that Dean leant him. “Your heart’s gonna be fine, Cas,” you assure him, stumbling along as Dean pulled you forward yet again. “It takes years of eating bad crap to clog you up. If anyone is gonna die of a heart attack, it’s Dean!”

“And I would have no regrets,” came the proud sniff beside you.

“You two are idiots,” Sam sighed.

You opened your mouth to retort, but Dean yanked you one final time and you spun to order the biggest funnel cake they allotted, double sugar and strawberries on top. Dean, of course, got his three corndogs, Sam opted for cup-o-salad, but Cas was at a loss. “He’ll have a corn dog and fries,” you decided.

Dean stayed back to wait for the order and Sam lead the way to find a semi-clean table nearby. “I’ll admit, Y/N,” Cas confided in you, eyes darting to Sam’s back cautiously, “that this fair food does smell delicious.”

“Oh, Cas,” you cooed, once again slinging your arm around his arm and placed your head on his shoulder, “you’re in for a treat.” You take one side with Castiel, Sam opting to sit across from you. The sounds of the crowd washed over you as you baked in the afternoon sun, the shrills from fast rides and rigged games were the soundtrack of your best idea yet.

“Alright, heart attacks on a plate,” Dean cackled gleefully as he sat the tray down in the middle. He passed Castiel his basket and you snatched up your funnel cake with a loud smack of your lips. “You’re gonna give me some of that, Y/N, right?”

Your face twisted in aggression, your body curling around your plate as you claimed your territory. “Absolutely not,” you snarled. Cas shifted uneasily beside you which snapped you out of your daze, “But you can have some, Castiel.” Blue eyes met yours and his brow pinched with uncertainty.

“Oh, so you’ll give some to Cas and not me,” Dean growled, corndog shoved in his mouth and mustard dribbled down his chin.

“Yes,” you answered simply, cutting of a nice, big piece coated with the most sugar and biggest strawberry and held it up for Castiel to eat. The former angel frowned at you and looked to Dean before opening his mouth wide to let you choo-choo it in.

He chewed it slowly, considering its taste. Sugar outlined his mouth and a drip of syrup rested in the very center of his bottom lip. Without thinking, you swiped you thumb across it, shoving it into your mouth to lick off the excess. His eyes went wide, watching the finger disappear between your own sugared lips. “This is very good,” he said hoarsely when he finally managed to swallow.

You wiggled your eyebrows in victory and pointed to his meal, “Clog those arteries, Cas.”

The rest of the afternoon was spent queuing in lines, you and Dean hogging the cotton candy. You did share a bit with Castiel for educational purposes, but most of it was shoved shamelessly into your mouth.

“You two are going to throw up,” Sam grimaced as you headed closer to the Tilt-a-Whirl.

“That’s the fun of fairs,” you replied cheerfully, nudging Cas to make a mental note of it. “You stuff yourself full of bad food and then you get on all the rides so you can throw it up later!”

Cas shook his head, “That doesn’t sound like fun at all.”

“It is,” Dean winked, “you’ll love it.” Sam contradicted his brother with a silent shake of his head, but you were all ushered into your seats before the older brother could argue. And when the ride was over, you were hugging your stomach, looking a little paler and Dean shuffled slowly beside you.

“I told y-” Sam started but heated glares from the both of you had him holding his hands up and laughing.

Despite your aching stomachs, you and Dean drag the other two on the Teacups, the Falling Tower, even in the Haunted House. It was the Tunnel of Love that caught your eye, though, and not because you had anything romantic in mind, but it was a slow, easy ride that hid you from the harsh afternoon sun.

The boys fought over who would actually sit with you because it was the Tunnel of Love, after all, and you can’t go in with your brother without people raising eyebrows and they sure as hell didn’t want to ‘fall in love with Cas’. “You’re all idiots,” you exclaimed and pulled Cas into the small swan shaped boat.

“This ride doesn’t actually make humans fall in love, does it,” he asked you hesitantly.

You leaned back against the hard wooden frame, head tilted back as the tunnel’s cool air breezed over your sun kissed skin, “No, Cas. It’s an excuse for teenagers to make out in, though. Or older people to make out like teenagers.” There’s a deep rumble of thoughtfulness next you and you can feel Cas’s eyes on you. “You wanna make out with me,” you asked with one eye cracked open.

“I don’t know,” he answered. “That means kissing, right?”

“Yes,” you snorted.

His brow wrinkled and he nodded, “Yes.”

“Yes,” you repeated, surprised. You sat up and tilted your head, a smile split your face in two.

“Yes,” Cas said for the second time, “I’ve thought about kissing you before. I’ve watched you with the men that you’ve taken home from bars and…”

You held up a hand and blinked, “What do you mean you’ve watched me?”

“I was afraid that they might hurt you, so I kept watch,” Castiel explained, noting your sudden discomfort of the conversation. “I stopped watching when you… you know.”

“I am so glad you’re human now,” you groaned, bringing up your legs in the open bench seat and hid your face away. You felt a hand atop your knee and a gentle squeeze in timid comfort. “If you ever get your grace back, dude, please don’t ever watch me again,” you pleaded once you lifted your head.

Cas nodded, those deep blue eyes full of regret and understanding, “I promise.”

The ride finished without a makeout session, but you had forgiven Cas by the time you caught up with Sam and Dean. The sun was getting low and the fair’s lights slowly started to flicker on, the Ferris Wheel drawing everyone’s attention. “Last ride,” Sam warned you, so you tugged them along, waiting in the longest queue of the day.

“Snow Cones,” Dean whispered, pushing at your shoulder. “Wait here,” he instructed his brother and friend before dragging you over to the stand. While the ice did sound like a good idea in the warm summer evening, more sugar was going to make your veins explode.

“I dunno, Dean,” you patted your belly, “I don’t know if I can fit anymore.”

“Don’t be a wuss,” he egged you on and shoved you up to the counter. You order a small one, rainbow all the way and kicked Dean in the shin when you got your purchase and ran off to the safety of your friends.

“More sugar,” you told Cas, holding up the shaved ice settled in a paper cup. “Sweets for a sweetie,” you offer it to him, “just bite.” He looked from you to the colored ball of frost and scraped his teeth along to gather some with an approving hum. Dean soon joined you, tagging you on the back of your head when he returned and nearly had you spilling your treat. “Watch it!”

Cas frowned in disapproval at Dean, but the oldest Winchester smirked smugly and bite down hard on his snow. “For as much sugar as you consume, Dean, you can be sour,” he reprimanded, patting your shoulder and taking yet another bite of your snow cone.

“Are you really white knighting, Y/N, right now,” Dean snorted, the tip of his nose dyed blue from his flavoring.

“If that means I’m defending her, then yes,” Cas replied, his eyes, like yours and Sam’s, trained on the small spot of blue. “Dean,” he started, but you wrap a hand around his wrist and squeeze. How the three of you are holding a straight face, you’ll never know.

“What,” came the gruff reply accompanied by a frown.

“Nothing,” Cas replied casually, tearing his eyes away from his friend and back to you and the Snow Cone. You return the stare, both of you leaning in to take a bite and you tried not to choke on the flavored ice.

“What,” Dean asked pressingly.

“Line’s moved up,” Sam answered, pulling his brother along.

Dean eyed you all suspiciously, but he moved along with everyone else, digging back into his ice and coming out with an even bigger spot of blue. Sam’s jaw is clenched so hard you could hear his teeth starting to crack and you’re sure you’ve snorted some of your ice in an attempt to stop your laughter. But Castiel? He was standing there, smiling at the three of you, suddenly understanding what the significance of fair food was.

“Dammit,” Dean groaned the next day, waddling in from the bathroom, “Y/N!” Castiel looked up from the newspaper and tilted his head, his eyes shifting from Dean to you splayed out of the bed in nothing more than a thin cami and cotton shorts, looking just as uncomfortable as Dean with your cherry red skin.

“Shut up,” you spat, not able to move from your bed. It wasn’t fair, not really. All four of you were out in the sun all day and only you and Dean managed to get burned, even through all of your layers. “Your voice makes my skin hurt.”

“Your face makes my skin hurt,” Dan shot back, slowly climbing onto the bed next to you. The pair of you weakly slapped at each other from your prone positions and you felt the bed dip behind you.

“Sam said this might happen,” Castiel stated as he flipped open a cap of aloe. “He said I would need to rub this into your skin.”

Dean jerked his head up and immediately winced from the pain, “You’re not rubbing anything on me.”

“Shut up and enjoy it, jerk,” you hissed and twisted your head as much as you could to look at Castiel. “Rub it all over me, Cas, as deep as you can.”

The former angel flushed as bright as the pair of you, but set to work.

#castiel x reader #castiel x you #castiel x y/n #human!castiel #formally posted on @plaided-ani

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mrs-han · 3 years

Text

Forever

@mrs-mc-han: Hiiiiii! Can I please please please request an MC who is super loud an extroverted! She doesn’t mean to or really even notice. she tends to yell when excited and use a lot of hand motions and laugh loudly. and she was never aware of it until she heard one of Jumin’s employees gossiping in the bathroom at C&R and goes to Jumin in tear apologizing for making him seem unprofessional. If you do this I will be so happy🥺🥺I love your work! Thank you💕

~~~

Gurrrl! I went through three different drafts because none of them felt right! But I finally settled on one! Here we go!

~~~

"Ow!! Don't -!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." Jumin carefully sat you up, his hand on your lower back. "I added too much pressure this time... I'm sorry, darling."

"No, don't apologize, Jumy... it's so nice of you to help me to begin with," you smiled forcibly, gripping his hand.

"It wounds me to see you in so much pain," Jumin sighed, his fingers lightly trailing over your shoulder blades. "How long do you need to rest?"

"Six weeks," you moaned, turning and burying your sulky face against Jumin's neck. "Which is impossible, by the way. What am I supposed to do for six weeks!"

"Rest, obviously," Jumin jested, poking your cheek.

"... Rest, obviously," you imitated. "I mean! What else am I gonna do? Huh? What, I can't do anything except rest?"

"Calm down," Jumin cooed, winding his arms around you. "I'll tell you what. How do you feel about coming to work with me, hm? It's remote, quiet, and you can stay in my office."

"And do nothing?" You pouted.

"I have plenty of board and card games that will keep you busy. Or, you can bring your tablet and play the games you have on there. What do you say?"

"That sounds like... a reason for you to spy on me," you smirked.

Jumin batted his eyelashes. "So what if it is?"

"That sounds like a plan," you giggled, kissing his cheek. "To coming with you to the office, not to the spying."

"Drats," Jumin said stoically, lifting you from the couch and placing you on the bed. "Did you take your medication, love?"

"I did," you blushed, realizing for the millionth time how lucky you were to be reminded. "Come here, hubby. Cuddle close."

~~~

The height of C&R's structure never failed to frighten you. You stood dumbfounded as Jumin gathered your things and grabbed your hand.

"Are you all right?" He smiled, tightening his hold.

"Did you guys expand somehow? The building looks ten times larger than when I was here last!" You smiled, throwing your arm out and flinching shortly after. "Ow! Ow..."

"Be careful," Jumin uttered, rubbing your back. "The building hasn't gotten any bigger... it seems my proposal for cat tree extension has been denied."

"You made a proposal for a cat tree extension?!" You laughed.

"Oh, look. I'm going to be late. Let's go," Jumin mumbled hastily, leading you delicately to the inside of the building.

The sights and the interior sounds were more or less the same since you had last visited. Hurried footsteps and the sound of passes that approved access mixed with the familiar smell of citrus - your senses were overtaken and overwhelmed.

"Why do you look so shocked? You were here just last week," Jumin chuckled, easing you past the security booths.

Before you could respond, you heard a familiar pair of heels making a beeline towards you. You turned and glowed as Jaehee, folders in hand, stopped and bowed towards Jumin.

"Mr. Han -"

"Jaehee!!"

She straightened and smiled as you crashed against her, hugging her. She tucked her folder under her arm and gave you a reassuring pat. "How have you been, MC? All Mr. Han talks about is how you injured your back."

"Even during meetings?! Jumin, shame on you!"

Jumin turned his head, hiding his flushed expression.

"Don't be too hard on him. It's a rarity to see how much he cares for someone other than his cat," Jaehee quipped under her breath.

"We're going," Jumin blurted, grabbing your arm and leading you to one of the many elevators.

"Yes, Mr. Han," Jaehee said quickly, fixing her glasses and her posture.

~~~

"What happened to your office?!" You shouted.

Jumin pursed his lips and blinked quickly. "I felt the need to redecorate."

You rushed into the office and threw your arms open. "Jumin, there are pictures of me everywhere!! OW!!"

"Don't strain yourself by yelling, darling."

Jaehee quickly closed Jumin's office door behind her. "Forgive my sudden intrusion towards this heartwarming conversation, but Mr. Han?"

"Ah, yes. The meeting."

"Jumin, you are -"

"Silly? Adorable? Quite the catch?" Jumin crooned, massaging your back.

You faltered and wrapped your arms firmly around him, giggling as he peppered kisses to your face.

Jumin hummed gently, his fingers curling over and into your hair. "I'll be back, my love. And when I come back, I'll give you the massage you deserve. Don't miss me too much."

"Impossible. I miss you already if only you knew -"

"Mr. Han," Jaehee spoke more pointedly.

"All right, all right." Jumin sighed, the stars in his eyes now replaced by businesslike determination.

"Be strong, my brave man," you grinned.

Jumin grabbed your hand, planted a firm kiss on your palm, and turned quickly, lest Jaehee fire another warning. You closed the door and bit hard at your lip as you observed Jumin's gallery.

Photos of you sleeping, smiling, holding Elizabeth the Third - even pictures of the highly publicized wedding day - were scattered with the finesse Jumin naturally possessed.

"I love you so much, you silly man," you said under your breath, running your fingers over his desk and finally settling yourself on his seat.

You managed to keep yourself busy for half an hour, drawing hearts on Jumin's notepad and playing a round or two of virtual Uno. Boredom was a hell of a demon, so you figured there was no harm in walking around.

Opening the door to his office, you peeked your head through and slid out. You were greeted with polite smiles and inclined heads as you walked through the floor, making you feel... oddly uncomfortable. No doubt, everyone was polite to you because they knew who you were - if you were to make one complaint, Jumin would take immediate action.

But you pushed your suspicions of trivial matters aside and smiled widely towards the ostensibly friendly employees.

Your brows furrowed, and your shoulders tensed the longer you were outside of Jumin's office. You understood what Jumin meant; that feeling of suffocation seemed to hover over your person and only caused more stress to your back as you unconsciously hunched.

You traveled to the café, desirous for some breathing air - there had to be some sense of normalcy where people ate. Still, heads turned as soon as your footfalls could be heard, and more disturbingly flashy smiles were shined your way.

Cramped and in agony, you retreated quickly to the nearest restroom, rubbed your neck, and yanked your phone out.

Hey, honey! Are you almost done?

Jumin usually answered you immediately, but his response still hadn't come your way. Pushing a stall door open, you slumped into the toilet seat and continued to try to work the knot on your back.

"Jumin, shame on you ~!"

Laughter reverberated through the restroom, and you froze in place.

"She's so tacky!"

"And so loud. Could you hear her from accounting?"

"Yes! No offense to Mr. Han, but the least he can do is put her in her place."

"Ha, no offense to Mr. Han, but he chose poorly. My daughter would be a much better candidate."

"Isn't your daughter twelve?"

"Well, Mr. Han does seem to go after those with a... childlike... disposition!"

Earsplitting laughter echoed through the room, through your ears. You pulled your knees to your chest and brought your hand to your mouth to muffle any outbursts of emotion.

"Considering how serious he is, you would assume! That he would choose a practical, serious woman!"

"Where is she from, again?"

"America, from how she behaves."

"That explains the lack of discipline."

You closed your eyes.

"How long would you give them?"

"Six months."

"Ji-Yu! That is far too generous! I give them! Three months!"

"Ladies, ladies. She can't live in a world as glamorous as Mr. Han's. They will divorce as quickly as they met. A country bumpkin will always return to the landfill they came from."

"Are we still on for dinner tonight?"

"Are you paying?"

Another bought of laughter resounded... then, silence. You stood slowly, legs shaking and back aching more than it had that morning.

You went from wanting full transparency to wanting the false reassurance of superficiality.

"So stupid," you murmured.

~~~

"What's next on the agenda," Jumin demanded as he walked straight to his office.

"A meeting at 1430 with Amorepacific," Jaehee answered, easily keeping pace with her boss.

Jumin slid his sleeve up, checking his watch. "Good, I have time to eat lunch with my wife."

"Enjoy your time with her, Mr. Han, but please be in Boardroom D ten minutes before the meeting."

"Yes, yes, fine." Jumin pushed the door open and was greeted by your swollen red eyes and dripping nose.

"Welcome back," you sniffed, forcing a smile.

Jumin's nonchalant expression immediately shifted to one of anxiety. His brows creased, his eyes grew, and he flew to your side. "Darling, what... why are you crying?"

Your voice quivered. "Can I go home?"

"Talk to me," Jumin urged, grabbing your hands. "Is your back hurting you? Did anyone try to come in?"

"No, no... I just... I want to go home," you cried, pulling your hands from Jumin's and covering your face.

"All right... all right, darling," Jumin cooed, grabbing his phone from his back pocket. "I'm calling Driver Kim right now -"

"No," You blurted. "I want to go home. Where I came from."

Jumin paused... then quickly snapped into action, carefully grabbing your chin. "Speak to me. Darling? Why are you saying these things."

"Who am I kidding, Jumin? I can't... I'm not cut out for this life. I'm not cut out for you, you...! You deserve way better than me. You need a woman who's mature, demure, graceful... that isn't me, and you'd be much better off if -"

"Stop," Jumin boomed.

"You just told me to talk to you!" you babbled.

Jumin's anxious eyes eased. "Is that what this is about?"

You closed your eyes. "I heard a gaggle of women talking while I was hiding in the bathroom... Jumin, they're right."

"Are they?" Jumin asked.

"Well... yeah, I mean... they even attacked you, saying how interested you were in childlike women..."

Jumin wiped your tears with his thumbs. "Mmhm. Complete strangers weighing in on the depth of our relationship... it never occurred to me that I should take their opinions to heart."

You hiccupped. "All I'm saying, Jumin, is... I didn't realize how ridiculous I made you look... I didn't consider it."

"What is there to consider?" Jumin asked gently. "You would rather take their words to heart over how happy you make me when you smile? How fast you make my heart beat when I see how eager you are to explore different things? How, in a sea of millions, your eyes are the only ones I will ever look for?"

Your lip quivered.

"Others will have our opinions of us, but you will always be my wife. No matter what is said, I will always come to you. I want you to realize this, that you may finally lean on me... that you will irrevocably trust that my love for you is infinite.

"... Jumin!" You sobbed, tears streaming down your eyes. "You weren't supposed to make me cry more!"

Jumin roughly tugged you in and held you fiercely, kissing the top of your head. "No more talk of you leaving me... don't go anywhere. Stay by my side, and rest assured that I will stay by yours."

"Forever?" You squeaked.

"And ever," Jumin whispered vehemently. "Ah... your back -"

"Don't you dare pull away from me, Jumin," you half-joked.

"... Ha. I wouldn't dream of it, my dear. What do you say we grab some lunch, hm? Your choice."

"Sure... fifteen more minutes like this, first," you replied, your mouth pressed against Jumin's chest.

Jumin laughed and rested his cheek atop your head. "Excellent plan."

#mystic messenger #jumin han #mein schatz #jumin x mc #Now... it bedtiem.#Happy Halloween everybody!#I'm in the Olympics way I'm jumping through hoops ~

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artxyra · 4 years

Text

Her Little Robins | Tim’s Addition

“Hey, what’s a little kid doing outside on this cold winter night?” Little Timothy Drake turns around face red. He tries to hide the pair of binoculars behind his back. There standing before him is one of Gotham’s vigilantes—Kismet in her dark red halter bodysuit with black heeled combat boots and matching jacket. Her red and black mask covering her eyes that was clearly amused to see the young boy watching for the heroes.

“I, um… cookie?” Tim digs into his backpack and pulls it a single Oreo. Kismet giggles and takes the sweet treat away from the boy.

“But seriously kid, what are you doing out here all alone, in the middle of the night no less?” Kismet asks once again; however, this time she takes a seat next to the boy who was now pouting for being caught in such a situation.

“Robin and Batman are my favorite heroes,” He beams, “The way that they work as a team and beat the bad guy. I have every villain card that can be found in Gotham…and I just really want to meet them up close.” Tim’s enthusiasm fades away as he continues to talk about the vigilantes. Kismet hums in responses never once interrupting the boy.

“That was a nice explanation…” Kismet says but her voice fades leaving the blank to be filled.

Tim notices her trailing off and pipes up, “I’m Timothy, but everyone calls me Tim.” He smiles at the hero to which she rubs his head much to his liking. “Hey,” He whines squirming away from her.

“It’s nice to meet you Tim but isn’t it past your bedtime.” Kismet wonders tapping her chin with a thoughtful look on her face.

Tim becomes deflated. “They won’t notice that I’m gone.” He murmurs turning his attention to the bag that lays deflated on the ground. Kismet presses her lips together and places a hand on Tim’s shoulder.

“I’m sure they did, do you wanna talk about or do you want me to take you home?” She asks the second Tim turns to her with watering eyes.

“Don’t you have patrol?” There is hope in his voice.

“This is Batman’s city, I’m just visiting, so technically I don’t have to worry about patrol right now.” She answers finally sitting down next to the young boy. Tim not knowing any better rest his head on her arm. Kismet tense but one look at how comfortable the kid was against her made her relax. “Tu es trop précieux pour ce monde, Tim.” Tim was too precious for the world that is within Gotham.

“What did you say?” He asks softly.

“How about I tell you stories of my adventures until you feel comfortable to go home?” Kismet offers, deflecting Tim’s questions. There will come a day when Tim will learn French that day is not today. Tim nods excitedly and looked up to her with a question in mind. She nods giving him the approval he needed to climb into her lap. Kismet begins to tell him her first mission being Kismet. Starting the blossoming mother-son relationship that Tim desperately needed.

~*~

Tim was having a rough day. This morning his assistant insistent that the Co-CEO of WE should not be drinking coffee after a certain time, which just so happened to be right before noon. They should be lucky that Tim didn’t fire them right then and there. He needs coffee to survive a single workday at WE and that was just his morning drinks. Then during a meeting, there were missing reports upon missing paperwork that still needed to be signed and approved for projects that were ready for the next step. He just wants to take a break and enjoy the remains of his day.

“You know, you shouldn’t work on an empty stomach, my petit oiseau de café.” The one person that could make his whole day bright joke from behind. Marinette was wearing her usual business casual getup which consists of a pale pink blouse with her signature apple blossom emblem on the breast pocket and a grey (sometimes black) knee-length pencil skirt. Her arms were crossed over her chest, but he knows she isn’t upset because of the playful look in her eyes.

“Coffee?” He queries with underlying hope.

“Coffee.” She replies with a chuckle. “But I’m driving.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Tim says as she jingles the keys in front of him.

The two share a smile as Marinette walks closer to him and grabs his wrist.

Tim misses this feeling. Here he was sitting at the Cozy Miracles Café, a café that is specifically for him and his mother figure to hang out without any disturbance, drinking coffee, and talking. They spoke about the company and how its success is growing before switching the subject every now and then. Tim had asked her about any latest trips that she had gone on since her last visit. Apparently, she’s been to Brazil, Taiwan, England, and Japan a couple of times. Each visit was for a different reason. However, after a while, their conversation turns into long periods of silence and more looking at one another with worry.

“Timmy, what’s wrong?” This question takes Tim by surprise. He was hoping that she wouldn’t catch his depressed state. In fact, he wasn’t sure he wanted to even answer that question as he knows she’ll go all mother bird on him. Which is ten times worse compared to Dick’s.

“It’s nothing, ‘spresso.” He sighs but he should know better than to say something like that.

“Tim, you’re barely an adult, and yet here you are running a multi-billion company. I may oversee retail and own twenty-five percent of the company, but I can tell when you have a lot on your shoulders. Does this have anything to do with your brothers? Bruce? You being RR?” She wasn’t wrong with either of those options.

Tim stays silent, which did nothing but cause her to pout. Instead of opening her mouth, Marinette gets up and orders another round of coffee. Nothing fancy, just something to sip on. She returns and slides back into her seat with fresh cups of drinks.

“Alright, oiseau de café, I’m here to listen. I promise I won’t tell Bruce, nor Alfred. Psychologist honor.” She says holding her hand up giving him her word.

Tim takes a big breath, pulls the fresh cup of coffee closer to him, and opens his mouth. The words came out like a flood. All his anxieties and fears aired out like they are usually are when speaking to Marinette. By the time he was done, he was close to a breakdown. Marinette had gotten up and wrapped her arms around him.

“Tu es digne, Tim, et personne ne peut te l’enlever.” He is worthy of everything he has been through, and she was right no one could take that away from him. For years he felt unworthy of being a part of the Wayne family like he was only here because Jason had died. He remembers Bruce being reluctant about taking in another Robin. If it wasn’t for Mari, he probably still be trying to prove his existence to Bruce. No matter how many years and discussions have passed, he still feels like an outsider. Marinette never treated him like such.

“Thank you, Mari.” He whispers to her to which she smiles and places a kiss on his forehead.

“Ahem,” The two coffee addicts break apart to be greeted Damian, someone that probably should have been at school. “I am in need of tatie’s assistance.” He states keeping his head held high. Marinette looks back at Tim silently communicating to see if it was okay for her to leave. Tim shrugs and drinks his coffee like he hasn’t just cried his heart out just moments ago.

“Of course, Dami, do you wanna speak in my car or go for a walk.” She asks after sending Tim a bright smile.

“Walk, please.” Marinette nods and gets out of her seat and usher Damian out of the café.

Tim pulls out his phone and sends a text message to the group chat he has with his older brothers. The message was simple, and it was, “Demon just invaded my one-on-one time with ☕” The replies he received were hilarious and worrisome.

It turned out that Damian didn’t need Marinette for anything, he just wanted her away from Drake. This caused Marinette to take Damian out for ice cream before allowing him to return with her to WE for the rest of her workday. Bruce was not happy with Damian, who actually skipped school in favor of spending time with his tatie.

Tag List: *View my Tagging System guidelines for how to to be properly tagged or removed.

#maribat #sibling brucinette #auntinette #ml x dc #mlb x dc #ml crossover #dc crossover

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pandemilkbread · 3 years

Text

devil 007 (prologue)

devil 007 (Bakugo Katsuki x Reader)

summary:

(demon!au)

Turns out Bakugo Katsuki never wanted to eat your soul, rather he just needed someone to play video games with.

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ's ɴᴏᴛᴇ: ʜᴇʀᴇ's ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʀᴏʟᴏɢᴜᴇ. ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ :>

☆ ☆ ☆

𝑖. 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑢𝑒

“That was a fucking accident.”

“An explosion that big is not an accident!”

You might be wondering how the hell were you hanging on the tallest building in the underworld holding on to a pipeline for your dear life. While your notorious partner-in-crime Bakugo just watched as you dangled ninety feet in the air.

“I swear if I die I will shitting haunt you for all eternity! You’d be fed up with all my shit the moment my soul reaches your territory. Just imagine, me annoying you fore—“

“Jump.” He grumbled.

No. Jump? Hell no. You’d rather die than jump into his arms. Bakugo was more likely to miss, and you’d fall (probably five storeys) before he dare tried to save you.

You wanted to scream. How all this happened in the first place, you hardly remember. No, you did remember.

It was all because of that stupid book.

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

It was a mishap, really. The wrong book got delivered to the wrong place at the wrong time, and exactly the wrong thing happened as a consequence.

You were a college student who had just finished the semester, and frankly... a miserable one you were. Failing a quiz was one thing, but you had to mess up your finals so badly a retake wouldn’t suffice. You had to take up the subject all over again.

Sighing, you lay flat on your back. The ceiling had this magical property to suck up all the negativity in your life.

(it didn’t. but you’d like to think so.)

You had all the time in the world to repeat the subject. The problem? Cash. Having a scholarship at a prestigious university wasn’t easy. One measly failure could mean bye-bye free tuition fees and hello student loans that could last centuries + a liver.

Doomed you were, honey. You groaned. At least the treasury board approved the student allowances; which meant? The poor student (you) finally bought the heavy shitass syllabus for your major. The subject you failed.

It could take weeks for the parcel to arrive. What did you expect? You only ordered it days ago. The sooner it gets here, you’d be studying your ass off until 5 A.M. for weeks. Hooray.

A sudden ring of the doorbell awoke you from your senses. Huh, it did arrive earlier than you expected. You scooted towards the door and twisted it open. There lay a box wrapped in tape, a sticker with the words ‘fragile: handle with care’ shone in bright yellow.

You picked it up and shook the item. It was lighter than you expected. How the heck did a 700 page book become as light as a diary? Did they send you the wrong thing? Crap. You scoured the whole box to find neither details about who the recipient nor who the sender was.

Oh, well. Did that mean you could keep whatever was inside? You grinned. Opening up the box, you find out it was a vivid red book entitled:

Ultimatum Wishes: The Ultimate Spellbook for Summoning Demons! All your wishes will come true! Follow the instructions inside.

Yeah, right. Like you could summon a demon to send you a trillion yen.

(apparently, doubt didn’t stop you from trying.)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

First of all, what the actual fuck.

Your curiosity got the best of you. The instructions were pretty easy; sugar, salt, dirt, water, a jar of mayonnaise, a drop of blood— basically, the usual ingredients for summoning demons. Like that’s shitting normal? You had to mix them all together and spread them into the circle you drew on earlier.

Second, did you really summon a demon?

You were obviously not in your dorm room. It was bigger, darker, and colder to what you were accustomed to. After saying a stupid chant, you make a wish and boom! demon comes to you. So the instructions said.

It was a joke, really. You never thought the book was actually real! Once you said your wish, a bright light flashed and... you were here. A basement like room devoid of light, making your fingers the only things you could see at the moment.

You were sprawled on your back, staring at your hands. If only your eyes could adjust to the light then you would be on your merry way to finding the exit. Except, that you didn’t really need to adjust. The lights opened with a flash and you were met with red eyes:

“Took you long enough, brat!”

Lastly, who the hell was this?

The moment you and this miniature bomb exchanged looks, and he realized that you weren’t the person he was hoping for, the man grabbed the collar of your shirt lifting you high up to the ceiling.

“How the fuck did you get here stupid human? Pretty gutsy of you to just waltz in like you own the place, hm?” He growled, slightly shaking you with every syllable he uttered.

You barely registered it, you-know before you were lifted up, but this person in front of you was terrifying. He radiated waves of “answer properly or i’ll rip you into shreds” and you didn’t want to die.

(not at least before smacking this crappy brute.)

“Put me down you—you crappy dog! Treat me nicely and I’ll tell you everything,” You choked.

He scrunched his eyebrows in confusion. “You’re really haggling with me now, maggot? The last time I checked I could easily squeeze the fucking life out of you—”

“T-The book! Shitty book! Followed it and I’m here!”

And with that you were dropped onto the floor. You yelped upon impact, rubbing the area of your neck with your fingers. That hurt. Your eyes hovered to your assailant and saw his frustration building up. Hoo, a little bit more and he’d be on fire.

“...How’d you get it?”

“Sent to my doorstep. D-Didn’t think it was real I thought—”

“You opened it knowing it wasn’t yours?”

“Oh, no you aren’t! Don’t blame me for your shitty mistake in the first place!”

“Watch your tongue, human.”

You sighed. Everyone knew you were someone who wouldn’t back down from a fight, but your senses told you otherwise. There was a fine line between pissing him off and stabbing you in the heart, you knew you were likely closer to the latter part of the scale.

“Fine. Whoever that package was sent to, it came to me instead. Why am I here?”

He contemplated for a while, searching for the right words to spout out. Oh God no. Were you brought here as a sacrifice? You shook your head. Anything but that! Sweat dribbled down your forehead. Why wasn’t he saying anything?

“...to kill...”

Yeaph. And with that, you blacked out.

(imagine, fainting from your own demolition. oh, you hope you didn’t actually break a bone or two.)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

You awoke to a strange tapping noise, more like a smack, and groans of infuriation. The vivid colors of black, pink, and yellow caught your attention, making you stare in awe. Was that Mario Kart...?

The clicking sound came from the blonde who sat cross-legged on the floor, eyes drawn to big television screen in front of him. While you were on a black couch around three hands away from the man. Seemingly, he could sense your tiny movements as you sat up, compelling him to chuck a controller at you.

“You gonna play or what?”

Huh? You took the object, feeling the texture in your hands. It’s been a while since you held a controller; even longer since you played a game at all. The game home screen flashed, the cursor hovering over the “new game” button. He clicked it forcing the game to switch into the character screen.

The man picked Bowser. Ah, not surprising. You grinned as you chose Princess Peach.

The game began immediately after and you thought, wow. You sucked at this game! Your cart hit track walls, bounced on boulders, special items that you sent managed to hit you instead. Rigged, this must be rigged! Just because the last time you played the game was ten years ago, doesn’t automatically mean you were shit at it.

Your companion thought differently.

“You’re crappy at this game.” He sneered.

You rolled your eyes. “It’s just the first game! A warm-up, you’ll see.”

And yes, he did see. See you fail round after round, time after time, the twenty games you played seemed to only prove your awful skills at a simple multiplayer game. You groaned. How was it possible to lose this much? Even the computer controlled characters beat you senseless.

Gently placing the controller on the sofa, you wrapped your arms around your knees. Was this a test? A test to see whether if you were worth killing? Oh boy, you would have been slaughtered at the first playthrough.

“Are you going kill me now?” You murmured.

If this was how you were going to go, at least you had fun. Well, you did lose more times than you could count. But hey, it was enjoyable.

“Ha. You think I’d let you go that easily?” He stood up, turned and grabbed the controller. “You made a pact with me, and now you’re gonna run away?”

His other hand reached for your chin and pulled it up, your eyes meeting his.

“What’d you wish for, princess?”

alright. so that’s the prologue! thank you for reading. i’ll have the chapter one ready soon. so pretty much, what happened was: you received a package. bored as you were followed the instructions and summoned a demon. except, you were actually summoned somewhere else to bakugo no less.

the introductions come on to the next chapter!! please leave a like if you like it aaaaa it would mean alot ;;;;

#bakugo katsuki #bnha scenarios #bnha imagines #bnha fanfiction #boku no hero bakugou #bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugo x you #boku no hero imagines #boku no hero scenarios #bnha fics #devil 007

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just-another-hhazbin · 4 years

Text

Alright it is time to risk getting myself cancelled. Today we’re going to be talking about aspd, aka anti-social personality disorder. I’m making this post because I haven’t seen one that discusses everything I wanna talk about so here we are.

What is anti-social personality disorder? In the barest essentials, it is an emotional disorder where it is very difficult to empathize with other people and understand their emotions, have high levels of apathy, etc. Sometimes it also correlates with very low impulse control.

In other words, it’s what some of y’all like to call sociopathy and psychopathy.

Let’s get one thing clear first - sociopathy and psychopathy are not actual pscyhology-approved words. ASPD is. However, the media and culture (or at least American culture, which is what I have first-hand experience with) has villianized and exaggerated it into this common trend where every criminal or horror figure HAS to be a sociopath or psychopath.

Yeah, as one does with mental illnesses. Thanks, Hollywood + Government.

So right off the bat - please I beg of you to stop using psychopath and sociopath to describe someone “crazy” or “evil.” Stop that. (I’m not saying never ever use the word. Some characters are gonna say slurs cause they be like that. But you, personally, should know better. And also stop putting it in your story summaries and character descriptions, goddamn.)

You are perpetuating a false narrative. It is estimated that 1 in 100 people in America have ASPD. Someone you know probably has it, even if they haven’t been officially diagnosed or even know they have it. If they do know, they’re probably really damn sick of hearing that comparison.

ASPD is also not an aesthetic, and you know exactly who you are. If you want the edgy serial killer aesthetic I am certainly not going to judge you, but for the love of everything leave aspd out of it.

Someone with ASPD is not emotionless. That’s another false narrative we can chuck out the window. It is true that they might be quicker to temper or seem somewhat cold or analytical, but those are hardly traits limited to those with ASPD. Some people do have higher levels of apathy and/or narcissis than others, but none of us are robots so cut that generalizing shit out.

As with most things, ASPD is a spectrum with different levels of effect and functionality. Someone who is more affected by ASPD but has been to therapy may have a higher functionality than someone with a milder situation.

Personal experiences shape individuals, shocking, I know.

Also, just because someone has ASPD does not mean that they cannot form relationships or friendships. It may be difficult to understand empathy but sympathy can often be managed, and it is possible to feel affection and friendship in some form for even the most severe cases.

It also doesn’t mean that they can or will ever develop empathy. We are viewing the same world but with different lenses, and that is okay.

We might not see friendships or relationships the same but that doesn’t mean we can’t form attachments or feel a sort of acknowledged possessiveness that is the equivalent for some of us.

That there is a lack of empathy doesn’t make someone a bad person. It is still possible for someone without empathy to look at a bad thing and know it exists and not do it because they have A) their own moral code that may not make sense to the normative lense or B) they have self-preservation and/or a basic understanding of social norms and fucking decency.

“But I know someone who did [x bad thing] and THEY were diagnosed with sociopathy/psychopathy!”

First off, I’d like to see who made that diagnossis, since again, those aren’t considered valid terminology by the majority of the modern psychology world. Secondly, I bet I can fiind at least a hundred to a thousand to a million people who did [x bad thing] and don’t have aspd. Correlation does not equal causation, people.

You don’t have to understand something to still choose to do it. We might not understand why someone would be affected by x action, but we can choose what impact we make. There is no little sociopath/psychopath demon running around in our head laughing maniacally and pressing “evil” buttons. (This is a thing that therapy can help with though, especially for some people. For others it’s more a matter of socialization and exposure and it’s a learning process for everyone, aspd or not.)

I would also like to take a moment here to say that if someone tries to excuse their abusive behavior with “I have aspd/[x mental illness here]” it is just that - an excuse. If they are in a situation where they really cannot control themselves, then it is time to go to therapy or call counseling services and in any case you yourself are in no way indebted to helping them or staying in a dangerous relationship.

Anyway, disclaimer over, moving on.

A lot of this has been discussed around, so here’s onto something I’ve been seeing a lot of recently, especially in fandom and certain LGBTQ+ spaces, and am getting really sick of.

ASEXUALITY, AROMANTICISM, AND ASPD DO NOT HAVE TO BE LINKED

The ace =/= aro argument has already been said a thousand times, but I’ll say it again. Both asexuality and aromanticism are spectrums and they do not go hand in hand. People who want sex might not want love and people who want love might not want sex and, once again, that is OKAY.

Now, onto the aspd factor - lately I’ve been seeing a lot of people saying “oh, such and such character is ace/aro/acearo, they MUST have aspd [or other terms]” or “such and such is a psychopath/sociopath and SO, they’re aro.”

Stop that.

Seriously.

Someone may very well have aspd and be ace, or aro, or acearo. But once again, correlation does not equal causation. I do get that on some level it’s understandable to play someone with aspd as aromantic in particular, but the lense is far too narrow, especially when it turns into a “must” situation.

Maybe what you would consider “romantic love” isn’t the same as someone with aspd would consider “romantic love,” but that doesn’t mean that they don’t experience it. Individuals have their own individual identities and definitions.

There aren’t unbreakable chains attaching aspd, asexuality, and aromanticism together. It is perfectly okay to be all of those things at once or have a character that is all of those things, but please remember that they are all independent traits and are spectrums that show themselves in a variety of ways.

Also, don’t call being aromantic or asexuality a mental illness. Seen that one making the rounds again too and it’s fucking stupid. Stop it and just admit to being ace/arophobic so I can block you and move on.

~Disclaimer that I am NOT a psychologist, just a tired bastard.~

#replace they with we and y'all can see why I'm so fucking tired #and yes this was brought to you after I saw psychopath/sociopath in the summary of a fic one (thousand) too many times #looking at you both hp and hazbin fandoms #aspd #anti-social personality disorder #rant #long post #long text post #acephobia tw #arophobia tw #ace #aro #asexuality #aromantic #yes this was also born because I wanted to talk about aspd headcanons around alastor but then saw a million bad takes and got pissed #mental illness

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whereflowersbloom · 4 years

Text

Picking a name.

This is for @deep-in-mind67 because I’m in love with Malik 😭😭😭😭

Damian was entirely worn out, both , physically and mentally. He was finally back home from a week long mission with the League. The minute he got home he cooked a proper meal for his wife. He didn’t approve of the idea of her eating take-out when he was away. The last appointment Cyborg had mentioned it was specially important during the second trimester for the mother to eat foods rich in calcium and magnesium among other vitamins. He made a mental note to memorize those later. It was vital for their child’s development. It was such a strange thought he already had wrinkled and veins, his fingers and toe nails were visible at this point. He had eyes. Even if he was tired dealing with Wayne Enterprises business, patrolling and missions, he made sure to do his homework as a future father. But Damian half awake, tried to block the sound of the outside world, the cars and people below, the birds already chirping, announcing the beginning of the day. The city was alive this Saturday morning. Thankfully, Titus was quiet, guarding the door. He’d have to feed him eventually though. Usually he’d be at the Tower, helping train the new recruits, or patrolling with Tim and Jon. Tsk. He didn’t want to think about Tim’s sarcastic comments about the Demon Boy trying hard to become father of the year. Jon couldn’t keep his mouth shut, blurting all kind of ideas about things he wanted to teach his nephew. He was a little disappointed when they let him know his ‘niece’ was actually a ‘nephew’, however he was still thrilled about having someone to play with. Their family was expanding. The gender doesn’t matter Damian thought. He was delighted with his family. He’d love his child no matter what because it was something they made together. Raven didn’t say much, she seemed content with a boy as long as he was healthy. Even so, a part of him could picture a little girl, similar to Raven crawling around the temporary apartment they were living in, until the house was successfully and completely built, that should be in a couple of months before the birth. They’d have time to discuss adding another member in the future.

But today, no missions, no patrolling, today he was curled up in the bed, tucked by his gorgeous wife’s side, his whole world in his embrace, protecting what’s his. His motivation and reason for fighting and coming back home safe every day.

He blocks out the rest of the city, blocks out everything but the woman in his arms, can feel Raven’s chest rise and fall from where his head is resting, can hear quiet breaths and a steady beating heart beat. For a minute he wished to possess superheating to hear the fast heartbeat of his son, inside his wife. Of course, he’d heard it before but it was something he’d never get tired of listening. The sound, rhythm was calming.

A cogent jab to her ribs causes Raven to stir, and she rubs a hand over the spot soothingly. “Five more minutes.” she mumbles, but it’s futile as she feels another dig. She groans, opening her eyes to the faint morning light and Damian’s emerald eyes. He smiles adoringly, admiring Raven’s beauty, planting a kiss on her neck as his hands settle over her belly. “Is the little Bird trying to stretch out?”

“He’s awake. He seems to be a morning person like his father. And restless.” She grumbles, still sleepy. The pregnancy was draining her. She could use her powers but Cyborg warned her not to overdo it. She was relieved Damian was back, in one piece.

Damian chuckles at her comment, his chest swells with pride, drawing her closer to him to kiss her forehead. “I’m sorry,” he says, his hand rubbing soothing circles over the bulge of her stomach. “Seems to have calmed down now, though.”

“I think he likes your voice.” She says softly, with fondness in her voice, her heart flutters, the way it does every morning when she wakes up in his arms, and momentarily, she wonders if this feeling will ever fade. It certainly hadn’t after 7 years together. The corners of his mouth turn up in a lazy smile, and the answer comes instantly. Never.

A wide smile spreads across her lips and she pulls him down to her until their noses are touching. “I love you” she whispers, meaning every word with all her heart.

“I love you, too, habibti.” Damian replied, his forehead touching hers. His mouth looking for hers. He groans when her lips are suddenly urgently on his, her arms snaking their way around his neck to pull him closer to her. He kisses her back just as fervently, his hands snakes around her waist, bringing her as close to him as possible.

“So I’ve been thinking, it’s about time we start considering names.” Damian mutters, tilting his head to one side.

This caught Raven’s attention, she lifted her head and fixed her eyes on him, meets green eyes looking down at her, waiting for her response. “We still have time but we could discuss it, I suppose.” She replies. They couldn’t call him little bird or as their their family recently started calling him ‘baby bat’. She meditates it for a minutes. It was something they had to choose together. Damian’s family, of course suggested names like: Jay, Gavin, Jonas, even the name Robin was brought up. She shook her head in disagreement. Nope.

“Do you have one in mind, my love?” Raven asked Damian, curious if he’s thought about this. It’s the first time he brings it up. Well she was 24 weeks far along.

Damian seemed to be lost in thoughts, considering his answer, frowning slightly. How much she loved all those gestures, his expressions, his features. She waited for his response.

“I considered sticking to the Wayne way. Traditional names. You know, Thomas, like grandfather. Joseph or George. But this baby isn’t only mine. It’s ours.” He said in a serious tone, but the way he said ours. Ours. Something special. That belonged to both. The embodiment of their love.

Raven threads her fingers through Damian’s atop her large stomach. She watched as they tangle together, fitting perfectly together, just like they always have. “I like the way you refer the baby as our child.” She confesses with glassy eyes. Hormones.

“Beloved, this child is half of you, and half of me. Joined. Just like I am half Wayne and half Al Ghul.” His eyes seemed to have traveled trough time back to the discovery of his conception. After all these years, he was still conflicted about it.

Raven squeezed his hand and Pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I love every side of you, Damian. Everything that makes you who you are. You’re an Al a Ghul and you’ve become an exceptional man. Like I said from the first time we met. A kind and generous soul.” Damian’s eyes widened. It baffled him how Raven managed to find the way to get through him. Always. Pronouncing the words his soul and heart needed to hear. She had all his devotion and adoration. “Our child is an Al a Ghul, too. He’ll become a great warrior like his father.” She assured him. Her words gave him hope. His child would have something he didn’t. Their parents together. Born out of pure, true love. He’d have everything he needed. Damian would ensure his safety, that he knew he was wanted and loved deeply and unconditionally. He nods after a brief pause, setting a hand on her waist to pull her closer. He was addicted to the feeling of having pressed against his body. Both.

“Besides, I’m not against Arabic names. You were born there after all. It’s a part of you.” She shrugs. Shed’d never admitted it but she enjoyed Damian tended to whisper words in his native language while making love.

Damian was contemplating fitting names for their child. Something meaningful. And he remembered one he was fond of. He thought it was a name suitable for a brave, skilled and virtuous warrior. “Malik” he said determined, confidently. He had a hunch it was the only name that would suit their son.

Raven stares deeply into emerald eyes. She wonders what their son would look like. if their baby will have those same vibrant green eyes, the same perfect nose of Damian, his tanned, caramel skin, his bushy eyebrows. Perhaps he’d have the shape of her eyes or her ears. She wishes he could have Damian’s everything for second. She couldn’t wait to hold her baby boy in her arms. Malik.

She draws circles around her round belly, affectionately. “So Malik. What do you think?” She asked their baby in her womb.

She noticed the spark in Damian’s eyes. She knew that look, when he was about to kiss her and take her breath away. Damian’s hands running along her curves, she was prepared for him.

There’s barely a millimeter left between them when she feels a forceful kick in her belly, and one look at the amused expression on his face shows her that he felt it, too. They burst out laughing, happily. “I think it’s safe to say he approved of his name.”

Another ripple across her belly breaks her and both look down at her belly. “You’re going to be a handful, aren’t you? Just like your father.” She sights, a pleased smile on her face.

I’m Sorry I couldn’t resist and wrote this last minute. 😭😭😭😭❤️❤️❤️😩😩😩

Malik gave me baby fever.

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deathonyourtongue · 4 years

Text

Willow Run | Ch. 7

Summary: On a horse ranch in Texas, life is far simpler than on the streets of Bakubah, but Syverson has a bad habit of taking in strays of all kinds, no matter what demons may be after them. Pairing: Captain Syverson x OFC Word Count: 3K Warnings: Drug use? A/N: Y’ALL ARE THE BEST!!!! CHAPTER 1 | CHAPTER 2 | CHAPTER 3 | CHAPTER 4 | CHAPTER 5 | CHAPTER 6 |

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“I’m a nice guy, right? I mean I got a place, roof don’t leak none, got food...Hell, I gave it to her good, too. She always moaned like a whore when I gave it to her. She loved it, especially the rough stuff.”

“I mean, you did say you were gon’ kill her.” Wade giggled, inhaling deeply from a bong and momentarily taking his eyes off Travis. His shaggy blond hair was in need of a wash, but from the state of his shirt, it was clear cleanliness wasn’t at the forefront of any of his thoughts.

Tapping on a dying lightbulb that sat next to his recliner, Travis grinned. He took a long drag off his cigarette, swilled it with lukewarm beer, and finally nodded. “Well, that’s ‘cause she disobeyed. She doesn’t have a lot to remember, really. Keep the house clean, keep the food hot, keep her legs spread, keep takin’ ‘er pills. Four things. That’s all she needs to remember, but that seems too hard for ‘er. You tell me Wade. If someone finds it too hard to remember four things, should they really be breathin’?”

“No sir,” Wade laughed, grabbing a handful of pretzels and putting the whole lot in his mouth at once while shaking his head.

“Exactly. And seein’ as how she’s mine, it’s my right to do with ‘er as I please.”

“Can’t argue with that one, boss.”

Standing, Travis made his way to the kitchen, pausing in front of a mirror his fiancee had broken with her face some time ago. Slipped into the frame was a picture, taken years before on a Polaroid. He stroked over the image with his thumb, smiling. Travis could remember the day like it was yesterday. She’d tried to surprise him by bleaching her hair a white-blond with pink streaks. He took a deep breath,trying to keep from getting hard as he remembered how rough he’d given it to her that night after the party at the drag strip. In his experience, blondes were always bimbos, good for one thing and one thing only. He treated her like a blonde that night, then made her dye it back to its original color the next day; it didn’t matter to him that she had a hard time moving her hands up to her head, so long as she got the job done.

His reflection, disfigured among the cracks of glass, made him look more sinister than usual and it suited Travis’ mood. His grin grew as he met his own gaze; tri-colored eyes reminiscent of a broken marble stared back, amplifying the decision he’d already made. Running a hand through his mussed russet hair, he looked over his shoulder at his best friend before opening the fridge and grabbing a fresh beer.

“Wade? What d’you do when a deer runs away from ya out into the bush?”

“Y’hunt it. Why?”

“Well, my dear ran away, Wade. Get your stuff and call the guys. We’re gonna go huntin’.”

Sasha couldn’t help but smile as she read over the second note Sy had left her in as many days. To him, it was probably nothing more than common decency, but to Sasha it was such a tender gesture of affection that it nearly brought tears to her eyes.

Feeling better than she had in a long time, she slipped out of bed, leaving the puppies to sleep and moved to get ready for the day, intending on finally surprising Sy with the breakfast she’d planned on making the day before. After a quick stop in the bathroom to tie her hair up in a floppy bun, Sasha put on a touch of the makeup she’d bought, slipped into the second outfit she’d tried on, and with new shoes in hand, headed downstairs to start cooking.

Though she hadn’t cooked from scratch a lot in her past, Sasha had always felt it important that a person have one or two recipes that they could make to near-perfection. Her favorite by far was her breakfast burritos and she’d yet to have someone fail to compliment her on them after trying them.

After a quick rummage through Sy’s fridge, she set about making two for him and one for herself, Sasha watching the clock closely, knowing full well she had a limited time frame to get the food to him before his meeting with the buyer. Where Sy sang, Sasha preferred to dance in the kitchen as she cooked, every movement accompanied by a happy little shuffle of her feet, whether or not there was music playing.

Before, she’d have to watch herself, as dancing was looked down on, but now, feeling freer than ever before, she couldn’t help but make her movements a little more grandiose. To anyone looking in, she might have looked a little strange, dancing and smiling from ear to ear when there was no music playing, but Sasha couldn’t have cared less. She was happy for the first time in a long time and she wasn’t going to hide it.

With the kitchen cleaned and the dogs all given a bit of bacon for their good behavior, Sasha set off with everything she’d made, the food wrapped in tin foil then gathered in a clean kitchen towel for easier carrying. Along with the thermos of hot coffee and a bottle of water in place of her OJ, Sasha headed off by foot to find Sy, not ready to try her hand at the ATV that sat parked at the back of the house.

Her smile grew as she neared the barn, hearing an upbeat country tune playing through speakers she could only assume were hardwired into the building itself. Seeing Wyatt, Sasha put a finger to her lips, silently asking him to stay quiet. The taller man only smiled, shifting his gaze back to a horse he was grooming while discreetly tilting his head to the left, giving away Sy’s location.

She was expecting him to look as he always had when working in the heat; sweaty, a little disheveled, and wearing his beat up baseball cap. What met her eyes however was something closer to the cover of a romance novel, and Sasha was momentarily stunned into stillness.

Wearing a navy and black plaid button-down, tight blue jeans with a black belt, and a far less trodden pair of black, round-toed boots, it was the black Stetson on Sy’s head that made her stomach explode into a million butterflies. Biting her lip, Sasha felt a stirring she couldn’t remember ever feeling for her ex, the realization a startling one that nearly made her drop the thermos.

It took a deep breath to refocus her mind, but once she had, Sasha tiptoed as close to Sy as she dared. With a quick look to Wyatt, who gave her wholehearted approval, Sasha leaned up as far as she could, standing on her tiptoes to try and reach his ear.

“Morning, handsome,” she whispered, echoing his morning note.

“HOLY FUCKING SHIT, WHAT THE FUCK?!” Sy jumped a mile, turning and banging his elbow into the stall as he tried to figure out what was going on. Seeing Sasha, his fear instantly turned to elation, and he placed a hand over his heart as he took her in. Even more radiant than she had been the previous morning, Sy could tell she felt a million times better, not just physically, but emotionally. The gleam in her eye said it all, and before he could even register it, Sy was grinning like a fool.

“Morning, mama,” he said with fondness, his voice quiet and sweet as he tipped his hat back enough to kiss her cheek.

Though Sasha was momentarily confused at the formality of the kiss, it only took one look at Wyatt’s raised eyebrows for her to realize why Sy was being a little coy with the PDA. Everything was still new. Blushing a little, she pulled her surprise from behind her back, smiling hopefully up at Syverson.

“I thought I’d make your morning a little easier,” Sasha said, her smile growing as Sy slipped a hand around her waist, guiding her down the aisle towards his office.

Sy’s face showed genuine appreciation as he took a seat in his high back leather chair, pulling Sasha down into his lap so she wouldn’t have to sit on the perpetually hay dust-covered chair.

“You didn’t need to do all this, darlin’. You made coffee and everything. Thank you.” Sy met her eyes, his own gaze making it abundantly clear that he wasn’t used to being treated. Turning her face with his hand, he kissed her deeply now that they were in private, Sy sighing happily when he finally pulled away.

“Been thinkin’ about kissin’ you all morning,” he confessed, Sasha unable to keep the small squeak of happiness from escaping, her head falling to Sy’s broad shoulder as he reached around her to unwrap the kitchen towel.

With the tinfoil off in a hurry, Syverson’s face turned into one of delight as he immediately recognized what she’d made.

“Did you use the chorizo?” He asked, bouncing a little in his seat when Sasha nodded. Laughing softly, Sasha held off on taking her first bite in lieu of watching Sy. While his food always tasted amazing, he usually didn’t have much of a reaction to his own cooking. Now, with someone else’s handiwork in front of him, it was a totally different story.

Sy’s eyes rolled back into his head the moment the first bite touched his tongue, a loud, appreciative moan coming next as he began to chew, followed by more bouncing and a bob of his head that was unmistakably made in time with the music.

“Damn, woman! You could make some serious coin off these! It’s so good! I think you’ve ruined me. Never, ever tell her I said this, but... Even my mom’s isn’t this tasty! Holy shit!”

Blushing profusely, Sasha hid her face deeper into the crook of Sy’s neck, her smile wide as she felt his free hand come up to cup the back of her head. Warm and safe, she almost forgot about her own meal until the baby moved and her stomach growled simultaneously, both Sasha and Sy laughing and the loud interference.

“Might wanna eat quick, mama. The lil’ one’s gettin’ restless,” Sy grinned, his hand slipping under her overalls to rub her belly gently over her shirt. The touch made her heart skip a beat, Sasha still amazed that Sy seemed to have no qualms over the fact that she was pregnant, even now that they’d declared their interest in one another as more than just friends.

Unwrapping her burrito, she took a hearty bite, Sasha glad that her appetite was coming back a little stronger now that she was well away from her previous situation. Still watching Sy, she felt her blush returning as his excitement over the food didn’t waver a bit. It was so opposite of what she was used to, Sasha didn’t quite know what to do with herself.

“Seriously, Sash, I could have these as my last meal and I’d die a happy man.” Giving her a squeeze, he looked up at her and something in his eyes changed.

“Darlin’, you’ve got a little somethin’...” Sy’s voice softened as he leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to Sasha’s lips and knocking her heart into overdrive immediately, with how charming he was.

“Stop,” she whined playfully once they parted, her broad smile making it clear she didn’t actually want him to do anything of the sort. “You’re too cute for your own good, mister,” Sasha added, pressing the button of his nose, her own scrunched up playfully.

“Nuh uh. That’s all you, mama. I’m just the big ‘ol rust bucket that works with horses,” he joked, Sy about to lean in to kiss her again when Wyatt’s soft throat-clearing interrupted them.

“We got about five minutes. He’s all ready to go, trottin’ around the pasture so he’s seen as they drive up. You need my help with anythin’ else or am I good to get back to the trees?” Wyatt asked, trying his hardest not to let his face show how surprised and happy he was for his best friend.

It had been eons since Sy had shown any interest in a woman, and despite only having met her briefly, Wyatt could already see how much of a difference Sasha was making in his former C.O., a difference for the better as far as Wyatt was concerned.

“Nope, I’m all good to go. D’you mind if I share this with Wyatt, darlin’? He hasn't’ eaten yet either and he’s about to go out and break his back.” Looking down at Sy as he asked for permission, Sasha only let the shock of his request flash briefly across her face before nodding quickly. Men never asked her for permission; they usually just took and took and took. Feeling overwhelmed with emotion, Sasha found herself slowly getting off Sy’s lap, mouth parted slightly.

Was it too good to be true? Would he end up being like every other man she’d ever been with? Was this all a dream that would leave her sobbing when she woke?

Managing to keep the smile on her face, she bent down and gave Sy a sweet kiss to his cheek, letting her lips linger just a little longer than was customary.

“I think I’m gonna head back up to the house.” Sasha murmured, stepping backwards while trying to keep her composure. Sy frowned slightly, confusion marring his features.

“You alright, darlin’?” Nodding quickly, Sasha waved the two men goodbye before turning on her heel and heading back towards the house as fast as she could manage.

Hearing the buyer’s truck pulling up as she crested the hill, it was all Sasha could do to keep from running, afraid seeing her might deter Sy’s prospective customer. Inside, the cool air hit her and without anyone watching her, Sasha let her tears spill, elated that she’d found such a wonderful man, but terrified that it was all going to go south like it did any time she had even a modicum of happiness to herself. Overwhelmed with emotion and forgetting all about the hormones coursing through her, Sasha kicked off her shoes before beelining the couch, curling up with Hudson and letting the tears fall silently until sleep overtook her.

Sasha wasn’t sure how much time had passed when she felt soft lips on her face. Moaning quietly, she braced for the kisses to turn to punches. With her eyes squeezed shut tightly, she was certain she’d feel the familiar wakeup call tear her out of her dream, which would put her right back to everything she’d run away from.

“Travis, I’m up, I promise,” she mumbled, whimpering even as she put her hands up to block whatever violence was coming her way.

When the gentle kisses stopped and all she felt was the circulating air of the AC, Sasha finally opened her eyes, confused; the sight before her put a lump in her throat instantly. Sy sat on the coffee table, back hunched over, his eyes gazing into a spot on the rug. Lips pressed in a tight line, two tear drops clung to his lower lashes, streaming down his face only when he finally looked up, their path cutting through the fine layer of dust on his face before he wiped them away slowly.

“Ah, sweetheart. Wish I could take all your fear, all your pain away,” he whispered, sniffling and wiping a little harder at his eyes when the tears wouldn’t stop.

Sitting up, Sasha found herself at a loss for what to say, her own eyes already red-rimmed from having cried herself to sleep. Looking at Syverson, she couldn’t help but feel the same guilt she’d felt during her first day with him. Only now, she could add making him cry to the list of things she felt responsible for.

“I feel like I’m a burden on you already, nevermind you wanting to take on my pain,” she admitted, her voice small and pinched, Sasha looking anywhere but at Sy.

Opening his arms, it only took a moment before Sy had Sasha in his embrace, holding her as close as he could and letting her fresh tears fall into the crook of his neck. Rocking her back and forth as he stroked her hair caringly, Sy could only think of one response to her words.

“No, not a burden. A joy.”

#henry cavill #syverson x ofc #captain syverson #captain syverson fic #deathonyourtongueoriginals #willow run

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mikauzoran · 3 years

Text

Lukadrien: Among the Wild Things: Chapter Eleven

Read it on AO3: Among the Wild Things: Chapter Eleven: Confrontation

The royal mausoleum was dim and a little dank; the solid stone walls and the flickering torches did little to keep out the dark chill of death.

Adrien led the way down into the crypt where the kings and queens of the past slept underneath the floor tiles and life-size statues in niches along the walls were the chief markers of which tenants rested where.

Luka found himself more than a little unsettled. He was just waiting for one of the statues to move, and he could swear he felt their eyes on him.

Adrien, however, made his way through the tomb seemingly unbothered by the images of his deceased forebearers. He also appeared to know exactly where he was going, quickly heading to the end of the row.

Luka guessed that Adrien had been to visit his mother many times over the years and was well accustomed to the place.

“Maman,” Adrien breathed, voice filled with emotion as he went up to the statue of a lovely young woman posed seated on a stone bench. She smiled tranquilly, her sightless eyes giving off a dreamy quality.

Adrien sank to his knees at her feet, placing his hand on top of her folded ones and resting his head in her lap.

“I missed you,” he whimpered. “It was so hard not even having a picture of you. I was afraid I was going to forget your face just like I’m forgetting your voice.”

Luka bit his lip, tempted to go kneel beside Adrien and wrap his arms around his mate to hold him together. At the same time, though, he didn’t want to interrupt the clearly personal moment.

Before Luka could decide, Adrien regained his composure and rose to his feet, turning his attention to the statue standing behind his mother’s with his hand possessively resting on her shoulder.

Luka had no trouble recognizing King Gabriel from the portrait Adrien had pulled out of the desk drawer in his mother’s room the night before. Surprisingly, Gabriel’s statue didn’t look new. It showed the same wear and weathering as his wife’s, indicating that the King had probably ordered the two made as a pair when the Queen had died.

“Father,” Adrien levelly addressed Gabriel’s imposing image as it scowled severely in judgment. “…I’m sorry that I didn’t say goodbye…. I’ve regretted that, but you made me feel trapped, so I didn’t think I had the option. I had to escape while I could without looking back. I hope you can at least appreciate the decisiveness of my actions.”

Predictably, Gabriel made no reply.

Adrien took a step back with a sigh, now addressing both parents as he continued, “I’m sorry that I was never really the son you’d hoped for. I’m sorry for all the disappointments.”

He then turned to look at Luka, holding out his hand for his husband to come take.

Luka swiftly answered the entreaty, coming to stand by his mate’s side, holding his hand as they presented a united front.

“I think you two always knew I wasn’t interested in women,” Adrien snorted softly. “Maybe you knew even before I did and that’s why you always said disparaging things about people who experience homosexual attraction. Maybe you thought it was some kind of choice I could un-make or an urge I could fight if I were strong enough…but it’s not.”

Luka inched in closer so that his shoulder pressed supportively against Adrien’s.

“I tried,” Adrien pleaded, his voice strained by building tears. “I tried really hard to be the son and heir you wanted. I just couldn’t make myself, quote-unquote, ‘normal’…and I’ve learned now in the past six months that that illusory ‘normal’ doesn’t exist. I don’t have to fix myself,” Adrien asserted, the tears leaving his voice to be replaced by strength and conviction.

“There’s nothing wrong with me that needs fixing. It’s okay to be gay. It’s actually something really beautiful and special…something that makes me me,” he tried to explain as a sad-but-daring-to-hope smile shyly tilted up the corners of his lips. “And I’ve found someone who loves and treasures me just the way I am.”

He nervously smiled at Luka before looking back to his parents’ statues. “Maman, Father…this is Luc…my husband.”

“It’s an honor to meet you, Your Majesties,” Luka greeted, crossing his left arm over his chest and inclining forward into a slight bow, not really sure what the protocol was for meeting deceased royal in-laws.

“Maman, you would have loved him,” Adrien insisted excitedly, but then his expression sobered, and he amended, tempering his remark, “…at least…I’m sure you would have loved him if you could see past him being fae and married to your son.”

Luka squeezed Adrien’s hand, signaling that he was right there beside Adrien no matter what.

“I hope you would have eventually seen past all that,” Adrien added softly. “He takes good care of me, Maman. He’s a good person, and his love and support help me get a little closer to my full potential and being the person I want to be,” he testified, praying that his assurances would have been enough if she’d still been living.

“I have the kind of love you told me fairy stories about, Maman,” he informed her pleadingly. “Please don’t despise me just because I couldn’t find that kind of happiness with a mortal woman.”

Next, Adrien turned back to his father, a wry smile sliding into place on his lips as he chuckled, “Sometimes you did things that made me think, ‘See? He really does love me after all’. …I know you would never approve of this marriage,” he admitted with a melancholy shake of his head, “but there’s a part of me that hopes that my happiness with a fae man wouldn’t kill that little spark of affection you felt for me.”

With a tearful choke, Adrien retreated into Luka’s arms, burying his face in his mate’s chest. “I guess we’ll never know, though.”

Luka shook his head in disagreement, insisting, “They would have come around. Maybe they would have resented me for a while, and I’m sure they wouldn’t have approved of our union, but, after some time passed, they would see how happy we are together. They wouldn’t be able to begrudge a marriage that made their son happy.”

“I think you’re a bit too naïve, My Love,” Adrien sighed, but Luka’s assertions did make the tears stop. “My world can be cruel and uncaring.”

“Yes, but I refuse to believe that any parents who managed to produce a sweet, compassionate, loving person like you could reject their son because of who he loves,” Luka continued to fight Adrien’s assumptions.

“…Maybe.” Adrien finally allowed the possibility to germinated and take root in his mind. “Maybe they would come around after a while.”

“You’d win them over eventually,” Luka assured, squeezing his beloved tightly, happy to see Adrien through all the ups and downs that came with facing the demons of the life he’d left behind.

Once Adrien regained his composure and bade his goodbyes to his parents, they headed back to the Queen’s chambers where they found Alya and Nino waiting for them, making themselves comfortable in the sitting area of the room on the settee.

“Dri!” Alya trilled in delight when she saw him, scrambling to her feet and dashing across the room to envelope him in a hug that knocked the air out of his lungs.

“It’s good to see you, Alya,” Adrien chuckled as best as he could without the benefit of oxygen. “Thank you for coming.”

She pulled back so that she was at arms’ length, holding him by the biceps to study him better. “Sunshine, you never told me you were the crown prince of the Kingdom of Agreste!” she accused.

Adrien shrugged and gave a sheepish smile. “I mean…you knew I was a prince. I told you that.”

She rolled her hazel eyes and snorted impatiently. “Yeah, but you took Luc for your mate—no offence.”

Luka smiled wryly, lifting and lowering his eyebrows in a manner that clearly stated that he was used to this kind of abuse and didn’t take it to heart.

“I thought you were the prince of some backwater, no-name kingdom,” Alya explained, “but here it turns out that you’re, like, the prince!”

“Technically, he’s the king now,” Luka pointed out helpfully.

A blush of embarrassment sparked to life on Alya’s cheeks, and her lips rounded into an “O” as she remembered the whole reason Adrien had come to the palace in the first place.

“I’m really sorry about your father, by the way,” she offered sheepishly, suddenly feeling bad for the way she’d been gossiping just the day before about the news of King Gabriel’s death and what the kingdom was going to do what with their prince missing.

She remembered the way she’d caught wind of the Queen’s death six years prior and had spent a prodigious amount of time and energy feeding on the conspiracy theories surrounding it. All at once, she felt ill because she’d treated her dear friend’s tragedy as a form of entertainment.

“I’m really sorry, Dri,” she repeated it earnestly, knowing as she squeezed his arm in support that she could never make any of it up to him.

Adrien nodded, looking down at the floor as he whispered a tired, “Thank you.”

Luka and Nino were at his side at once, resting comforting hands on shoulders and giving his hair loving tussles.

A thin smile spread across Adrien’s lips, and he looked back up at Alya with a deep weariness in his eyes. “It’s been difficult, but I’m making it through somehow. Having Luc by my side has been a blessing.”

Alya nodded, feeling awkward and, for once, unsure of what to say.

“But let’s focus on happier things, shall we?” Adrien forced himself to smile wider, trying to inject an air of levity into the conversation. “Did you hear about the wedding and the coronation scheduled for this evening?”

Alya’s eyes lit up, and she latched onto the new topic with unfeigned enthusiasm. “Oh, yes! I was just pumping Nino for information when you came in. It sounds so exciting! The pomp and the ceremony and the big feast afterwards!” She gave a vulpine bark of delight. “I wish I could see it all for myself. I’ve always dreamed of human celebrations like this.”

“You can come,” Adrien informed with a shrug that suggested it was as nothing for him to make her wildest, most cherished dreams come true.

“Really?” She almost stopped breathing.

Adrien nodded and shrugged again. “I’m king. If I say you can come, you can come, and if anyone has a problem with that, they can get over it because my word is literally law,” he assured, taking a heady pleasure in his newfound control. “…I mean, until I can foist the leadership of this kingdom upon someone else, but…”

“I would literally die of happiness,” Alya whined, near tears as she squirmed in excitement.

“Nino will have to chaperon you,” Adrien laid out the conditions.

“I can do that,” Nino gladly volunteered, looking forward to having more time to chat with the interesting fae woman.

“Just for safety,” Adrien explained. “My subjects can be a little…backward…when it comes to issues of embracing diversity. Some of them might be a bit uncomfortable if they knew you were a fox spirit, so I think it’s best if you stay close to Nino so he can help you out and keep you safe.”

“No complaints here!” Alya assured chipperly.

“And we’ll have to see about getting you a suitable dress for the event so that you fit in,” Adrien continued, voicing items of concern as they came to mind. “Nino, could you take her to see Marinette about that?”

Nino gave a snort, shaking his head as he grinned. “Marinette is going to kill you.”

Adrien waved away Nino’s assertion. “Marinette won’t kill me. Marinette loves me. She’s got at least twenty dresses just sitting around that she could make some quick adjustments to for Alya.”

“Marinette is going to kill you,” Luka snickered, imagining the seamstress’s face when Nino arrived with the request from the young king, her eyes bloodshot from working through the night on the coronation/wedding outfits. “She’s going to be livid.”

“It’ll be fine,” Adrien insisted, unconcerned. “I have faith in the supernatural abilities of my Royal Court Seamstress. There’s a reason she’s the youngest person ever to hold the title.”

“There will be shrieking,” Nino chuckled. “She’s going to take me by the shoulders and throttle me in your place.”

“You’ll survive,” Adrien promised with a wink, going over to where the decadent breakfast Alya had brought was spread out on the coffee table. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m starving.”

“You’re going to be able to hear the shrieking all the way in town. People are going to think a demon has descended upon the land,” Nino muttered resignedly.

“They already think that about me,” Luka hummed as he followed Adrien over to the sitting area.

Alya arched an eyebrow in confusion. “How could they confuse you with an oni? Have they never seen one before? Don’t they have picture books? Didn’t you tell them you’re a kelpie?”

By the time Adrien and Luka returned from their morning out and sat down to breakfast, the rest of the castle inhabitants were starting to get up and move about, getting on with their day.

Nathalie soon appeared to give them their first briefing of the day, and then it was a flurry of servants and advisors coming in and out, checking about this, asking about that, all working together (or at odds with one another) to prepare for the day’s events.

It reminded Luka of watching his mother in action at a town hall where everyone gathered to make their concerns and desires known. It boggled Luka’s mind how many different decisions Adrien had to make, how many people’s concerns he had to deal with, all the orders there were to give.

Luka wondered if the daily life of a king was always like that or if it were just because of the last-minute nature of the wedding-slash-coronation.

Everyone seemed to be in a rush, and everyone was vying for Adrien’s time and attention.

“I hate you,” Marinette announced as she came in just after noon for a fitting.

“You love me,” Adrien corrected, encircling her in a warm hug.

“No, I really think I hate you,” Marinette snorted, even as she squeezed him back. “I love Alya, however, so I’m definitely keeping her. I’m not so sure about you.”

“Were you able to find a dress that could be modified for her?” Adrien inquired as they pulled apart and Marinette went to the rack she had brought in to get the garments for Luka and Adrien to try on.

“Yes, I actually have a gorgeous orange dress that’s going to look ravishing on her. I did the measurements and marked it up for alterations. Manon’s working on it now,” Marinette informed.

“Nino’s going to faint when he sees her,” Luka hummed happily. He had been pleased with the chemistry between them that he had witnessed during breakfast, and he had high expectations for Alya in formalwear.

“Are you shipping them now?” Adrien snickered as he accepted the garment bag from Marinette.

“Nino is a good man; he deserves happiness, and I think Alya could be a good fit,” Luka replied with an innocent shrug, as if he weren’t actively scheming to get them together.

“I’m in favor of this pairing,” Marinette reported. “Nino’s been a mopey mess since you’ve been gone, leaving him with no one to moon over. If you’re going to be going back home to the fair folk before long, it would be nice if he had someone to take a romantic interest in so that he didn’t feel so lonely.”

“Yeah,” Adrien sighed, feeling guilty. “It would be nice if he had someone. I don’t want him to feel left out, especially now that both of us are going to have partners.”

“He’ll find the right person in time,” Marinette tried to assure with an encouraging smile. “Nino is a great guy; he’s bound to find love…so go on and try your suit out, and don’t worry so much about Nino.”

Adrien nodded, going behind the screen to change.

Luka nearly overheated when Adrien came out wearing a three-piece suit. The jacket was a long, royal blue tailcoat with striking silver embroidery tastefully done down the front of the jacket and around the sleeves. White pants and an ascot completed the look, and, as much as Luka loved his husband in his everyday clothes, Luka found that expensive clothing really suited Adrien.

“I think he’s speechless,” Adrien chuckled, running a hand through his hair, mussing it up. “Excellent job, Marinette.”

“I don’t know if I can really take the credit,” Marinette snickered. “My suit wouldn’t be half as stunning if you weren’t smoking hot.”

“True,” Adrien laughed, giving a spin to make the coattails fan out.

Luka gulped.

“All right.” Marinette gave Luka a clap on the back as she pushed a second garment bag into Luka’s arms. “Your turn, if you think you can walk.”

“I’m fine, thank you.” Luka cleared his throat and held the garment bag in front of himself to preserve his modesty as he slunk uncomfortably across the room to the changing screen.

His own outfit was nearly identical to Adrien’s saving for the colour scheme which was inversed. Luka’s jacket and vest were white while his pants, ascot, and the embroidery on his jacket were a beautiful blue to match Adrien.

“If you need help putting anything on, just ask,” Marinette called out helpfully. “I’ve dressed plenty of people in my line of work, so you won’t scandalize me or anything. Most nobles have people who dress them, so it’s really not a big deal.”

“I’m good, but thank you very much,” Luka assured as he fought a little with the innumerable buttons.

When he was content that he looked presentable, he stepped out from behind the screen and was more than satisfied with the effect his appearance had on his mate.

Adrien’s eyes dilated, and his mouth dropped open slightly as a hearty blush spread across the bridge of his nose from one cheek to the other.

Luka zeroed in on Adrien’s throat as he swallowed hard.

“Marinette, if you don’t mind, I think I need half an hour alone with my husband to discuss important marriage stuff,” Adrien informed as he strode across the room, grabbed Luka, and dipped him into a hungry kiss.

“No, no, no, no, no!” Marinette protested with an exasperated huff, watching futilely as Adrien pulled Luka back up only to escort him over to the bed (stealing breathy kisses the whole way) and push Luka down onto it.

“Adrien, I swear, if you harm so much as a button on those outfits, I will assassinate you myself,” she growled, lamenting the fact that she had done too good of a job making both grooms look incredibly handsome.

“I love you, Marinette, but get out,” Adrien hummed happily. “That’s an order.”

Stewing and clenching her fists and jaw, Marinette stormed towards the exit, threatening over her shoulder, “Don’t you dare rip his clothes off with your teeth, Adrien! I will kill you. Take them off like civilized people and hang them up on the rack in their bags. Then copulate like bunnies. I don’t care, but don’t you dare—”

Marinette nearly got hit by the door as Nathalie entered the room.

“—Oh! Lady Sancoeur! I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you there.” Marinette hastened to curtsy.

Adrien rolled off of Luka with a startled yelp, looking very much like a chastened schoolboy caught by his mother.

“…Am I interrupting?” Nathalie inquired blandly, her eyebrow arching upwards.

“Marinette was just making sure our clothes fit for the ceremony,” Adrien explained sheepishly.

Luka—who had been inoculated to this brand of embarrassment by being walked in on by or walking in himself on his mother, Rose, and Juleka—tried to stifle his laughter and an amused grin with varying degrees of success.

Adrien was adorable as he blushed and fidgeted nervously.

Luka leaned in and pressed a comforting kiss to his temple. “Everything seems to fit wonderfully, so we were just about to change back into our regular clothes until it gets closer to time for the ceremony,” Luka added to lend Adrien’s story credibility. “Marinette is truly amazing to have completed such a daunting task so quickly and so well. I’m extremely impressed.”

“Oh, well,” Marinette laughed bashfully, breaking out into a wide grin of pleasure at his lavish praises. “I couldn’t have done it without the help of my team. I’m very lucky to work with many talented people I can trust implicitly.”

“And we’re very lucky to have you to lead them,” Nathalie added, nodding her approval (a rare commodity).

Then, Nathalie was back to business, getting to the point. “The rings have just arrived from the jeweler, and we need to make sure they fit and meet with your approval so that there’s enough time to make corrections, if there are issues.”

“Oh. Right,” Adrien responded as one coming out of a reverie. He furrowed his brow and pursed his lips as he got up and came over to inspect the rings which Nathalie had fished out of little satin bags.

“Sorry. I know we talked about getting rings for the ceremony this morning, but…” He nervously began to twist the ring Luka had made for him around his finger.

It didn’t feel right to replace it or even to take it off. His subjects might not consider the ceremony that Anarka had officiated at or the private rituals Luka and Adrien had exchanged in their room that first day they committed themselves to one another to be legitimate or legally binding, but Adrien did.

The makeshift ring Luka had placed on Adrien’s finger that day was a real wedding ring to him, and it felt wrong to renounce it like this.

Luka came up behind Adrien, wrapping his arms around him to give him a supportive squeeze. “It’s okay, My Love,” he assured, gingerly taking Adrien’s hand and slipping off the ring, moving it over to the ring finger of Adrien’s right hand. “It doesn’t really matter which finger it’s on, does it? Isn’t the important thing that I put it there?”

Adrien hummed thoughtfully, studying the effect of this new placement.

“…Yeah,” he finally sighed, nodding decisively. “I guess you’re right, but this is only for the ceremony. Tonight, we’re switching them back. My real wedding ring gets pride of place.”

“As you wish,” Luka easily agreed, letting Adrien switch Luka’s ring from his left hand to his right as well so that they could try on the new rings.

Luka reached out for the one that Nathalie indicated was Adrien’s but then stopped, looking uncertainly at the advisor. “I remembered to tell you about my iron allergy…right?”

Nathalie gave him the vaguest hint of a smile as she assured, “You did, and I triple checked with the jeweler, so there shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Thank you.” Luka smiled nervously as he hesitantly picked up the ring, poking it with the tip of one finger first to test it before taking hold of it with confidence.

Both of the rings fit comfortably, and the fitting ended without incident.

Marinette finished inspecting both outfits and identified small details that could be improved while Nathalie gave the boys what felt like their dozenth briefing of the day.

Even after Nathalie and Marinette were both satisfied and left, that didn’t end the whirlwind of people coming in and out of the Queen’s chambers, needing Adrien’s approval or input on this or that.

Luka felt like he barely had time to breathe as the day quickly slipped away and, suddenly, it was time for the ceremony.

#Lukadrien #Miraculous Ladybug #Miraculous Ladybug Fanfiction #Adrien Agreste #Luka Couffaine #Nino Lahiffe #Alya Césaire #Gabriel Agreste #Émilie Agreste #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #Hurt/Comfort #Found Family #Fluff #Mikau's Writings #Among the Wild Things

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waywardscorpio · 4 years

Text

The Demon King Has A Weakness. Chapter One

Taglist: @scuzmunkie @phoenixoffiretwo @luna-obscura @braunstrowmangirl @callmekda @fanfiction-san

{A/N: Here is a update guys. I’m so sorry it took so, long. Enjoy}

Warnings: Foul language, Violence (maybe), possible smut (not sure. Depends on how I want the chapter to be.), Pregnant Omega!Reader, Angry Alpha!Finn, Fluff possibly as well, A TWIST AND ADDED MATE. READ TO FIND OUT WHO. {A/N: If you don't like any of the wrestlers used in this story use names of wrestlers you do like.

*Finn Point Of View*

I was now on day three of the search for my Queen, my Omega whom is pregnant. I knew who took her and when I get my hands on him, I will torture him and cause him so, much pain instead of killing him. I know what makes Drew, pissed off. "Your Majesty?" The guard said to me as I was snapped out of my train of thought. "Yes?" I replied to him. "Your eyes are glowing Sir." He said to me as he looks at me concerned something is wrong. "Give me a mirror" I demanded. The guard took out a mirror and handed it to me. I lifted the mirror up and looked in it to see that my eyes are in fact another color. "Send a telegram back to the castle. Having my mother look for Y/N's, life line. Tell her as well that my eyes are red. I'm close to Y/N's life line but it is giving off different places and I can't pinpoint where." I said. The guards did as I asked as we set up camp for the night. I laid in my tent as a guard stood outside keeping watch. "My King" The guard said which woke me from my slumber. "What is it Sheamus?" I said walking out the tent in just a pair of trunks. "Your mother is here with your father." He said to me. "Okay bring them over it is okay." I said to him as I looked at him and walked into my tent to pull on some clothes. "Son are you decent?" My mother asked me. "Yes, I am." I replied. My mother and father walked into the room

"Let me see your eyes son." My mother said to me. I looked up showing my mother my eyes still red eyes. "When did this start?" She asked. Sheamus looked at my mother. "It was around noon before he ordered us to send you the letter" He said to my mother. "Thank you, Sheamus for telling him as soon as you did. I don't think it's Y/N, sending you her life line sos. I think it is one of the pups. This is never been heard of that an unborn Demon and Fairy pup has ever been able to send a life line sos." My mother said. "What is that going to mean?" I asked her. My mother closed her eyes and focused her energy on the life line. She smiled softly able to see Y/N, is still alive. But frowned seeing the bruises on her face and her weakened state. She looks inside Y/N's mind since the unborn alpha pup was using his powers to keep his mother's mind visible to only his grandmother since she was able to see things. She seen the fear of my wife and mother of my children. "She is weakened, bruised. But she is alive. Three out of the four pups are strong one is weak."

It enraged me hearing my pregnant wife and mate is hurt and weakened. "Keep heading north. She was captured by Drew McIntyre, The Scottish King." She said. I took my horse and ordered my men to follow. Sheamus was the first to follow me. "My Lord. We must wait for the rest of the warriors. I know you're enraged but we have to think about this smartly. If we just go by ourselves against him and his men we may not make it out." He said reasoning with me. "I'm a Knight of Hell Demon. There is only one thing that can kill me and that is the first blade." I said to him. "Yes, Sirer I know. But remember you can still feel pain and get hurt and it will hurt her to. She is already weakened if you take on anymore damage it may kill her or the pups." He said to me. I growled knowing he is right. 'What am I going to do?' I asked myself. 'How can I protect her without possibly killing her or the pups?'

A few hours later the rest of the warriors showed up with my mother and father leading them. "Son you must stay calm. I know you want your Omega and pups back safely and you're willing to kill anyone to get to them." My father said to me as I looked at him. "How can I protect her without causing her or the pups any damage?" I asked my father. "You already know but know you must remember letting that side out will come with great power." He said. I looked at my mother seeing the approving nod she gave me. "It's time son you use your full powers." She said. She knew the dangerous side of fine was the only way I could do this and that meant I would have to go against everything I would go against and let out The Knight of Hell. I was the strongest and eldest of all the Knights of Hell and held the most power of all. I kept my powers locked away for many reasons. But it was time I let them out.

I rode on with the warriors and Sheamus in tow. "Sirer are you sure that this is a good idea to let him out?" Sheamus asked looking at me. "It's the only way to do it" I said. Sheamus nods his head. Sheamus took off his charm that kept in his own powers. "Then I will fight with you my Lord." He said to me. "I will fight to the death to save our Queen and your wife." The warriors said. They all loved Y/N, and always listened to her better than me at times. "Whatever happens Sheamus, you save her life." I said to him. "Understood Sirer." He said nodding. "Are you ready for this?" I asked and they all hollered and charged forward.

*Third Person*

Finn, let out his dark side as him and the others roded on to Drew's castle. "He was ready for a war. "Infiltrate the castle. Kill anyone that stands in your way. But women and children." Finn, said as they busted down the gates of Drews Kingdom. Finn got off his horse and walked through the kingdom. The closer he got to Y/N, the stronger the life line would get. "Well well, what do we have here?" Drew said to Finn, with a deep and devious smirk on his lips looking at Finn. "Where is my pregnant Wife?" He asked seething with rage. "Oh that pretty little thing? I have her. Should here her scream for you, crying for you. Begging me not to hurt her or the pups in her beautiful round belly." Drew said to him. Finn growls. "Don't you dare fucking talk about my Queen like that." Finn said growling eyes black and red. Sheamus was looking around for his Queen while his King, kept Drew busy. "What are you going to do about it?" He asked Finn. "I'm going to make you bleed and hurt for putting your hands on my Love." Finn said taking his sash and cape off and tossing them to the side. Finn pulled his sword from his side as he watched Drew. "Lets see you try Balor." Drew said running at him with his sword in his hand. Finn, struck first. Drew's and Finn's swords colliding together with a loud clinking noise of metal on metal. Finn, kicked Drew in the gut swinging his sword at him cutting his arm. Drew, laughed darkly as he swung his sword catching Finn's shoulder. He didn't feel any pain as him and Drew, went toe-to-toe with each other.

Meanwhile Sheamus, was searching the castle for Y/N, as he fought off guards. Y/N, heard the all to familiar sound of the Irish fella Sheamus. Y/N, cried out happily knowing she has been found. She weakly stood up holding her swollen belly. "Sheamus?" She said as she looks up at the pale skinned man. "Yes, it is I, Sheamus. Can you walk My Queen?" Sheamus asked her. "Barely can stand. Where is Finn?" She asked. "He is fighting off Drew and keeping him distracted while I came to find you." Sheamus replied to her. He picked her up bridal style and carried her. She used what strength she had to put a shield around her and Sheamus, to keep anyone from trying to attack them while she and the pups were in his arms. "Stay awake for me okay? I know, you're tired Queen Y/N. But you have to stay awake as long as you can." Sheamus said to her and Y/N, nodded her head understanding what he was saying.

Sheamus got her out to the carriage where Finn's, parents were. "Oh thank the heavens, sweet girl." Finn's mother cried as Finn's father took her into his arms keeping her head up. "Here drink this please?" He said to Y/N, who weakly raised her head of Finn's father's shoulder and took small sips of the water, while his mothers hands glowed over her body and belly to asses the damage. "She needs food anything will do." She said when she was done. A women and small child from Drew's servants crew walked over slowly showing they mean no, harm. "Here miss, we have some fruits and veggies. Will it help." Finn's mother looks at them hesitant at first. "They won't hurt us. She and her son have been sneaking me food here and there when they could without Drew knowing they were." Y/N, said hoarsely. Finn's mother looks at them and nods softly gesturing them both over. "Bring it over. It will help a great deal." She replied. The small boy stood on his tippy toes to hand it to her as the boys mother handed some to Sheamus, too for the journey back.

"Where is she?" Finn, said walking over to Sheamus. "In the carriage with your mother and father. She is weak." He said to Finn, as he sipped some of his water. "Sirer you're bleeding" He said handing him a piece of cloth to stop the bleeding from his shoulder and side. "I didn't notice honestly." Finn said. He walked over to the carriage opening the door. He seen Y/N's weakened state as she is eating slowly and drinking water. He climbed in as he watched her. "Sheamus, you're leading us home." He said. "Fi-Finn" Y/N, crocks out softly. "Shh I got you, Baby" He said to her. She sniffles looking up at him reaching for him. He happily obliges in taking her in his arms. His hand went to her belly to protectively. Sheamus drove the carriage as he lead everyone home alive and dead.

*Two and a Half weeks after they got home*

*Y/N P.O.V.*

I was laying in bed with Finn, while he slept rubbing my belly. It was the first night out of the hospital wing since what happened. "Baby Girl?" Finn said softly in a half wake and half asleep state. "Yes, Babe?" I asked softly to him as I turned over to face him. "What's on your mind beautiful?" Finn asked opening his eyes to look at me. "I'm worried he will try it again and next time he will kill me." I said to him softly. "As long as I am still alive he will not be able to lay a finger on you." He said to me as he looked me in the eyes. "What if he gets the first blade?" I asked him softly. "The only way he can get that blade is to go to Kane himself. But even then the only way he can use the blade is if he has the Mark Of Kane. I can already tell you Kane will not give him the mark because he will know the bad inside Drew and the revenge he seeks on someones life." He said to me. "Are you sure the blade is useless without the mark?" I asked. "Yes, Baby Girl. I'm sure it is. I know for a fact that its useless with the Mark Of Kane. And even if he was to somehow get the mark of Kane he would have to have Kanes blessing to take the mark or else the mark will kill Drew or anyone who bares it without proving themselves to Kane first. I've seen many try and only five out of the millions that have tried have failed. Kane has only Five people he trust with something like that and three out of the five thats bared the mark have died." He said. I wasn't sure what he meant by only three of the five are living. "What happened to the three that died?" I asked. Finn, looks at me as he adjusted us both to lean on the headboard.

"One of them died from an Angel Blade by the hands of none other than the Angel Castiel, Two were killed by Eve because they betrayed her." Finn said to me as I listened to him talk. "What about the remaining two?" I asked looking at him. "Well one is a hunter named Dean Winchester, and the other one is Sheamus." He replied to my question. "There is only few who can bare the mark without it causing you to lose your mind." He added as he held me close rubbing my back gently. "Wait Sheamus, as in the guard Sheamus?" I asked. "Yes, he is the only none human currier of the Mark of Kane, besides Kane himself." He said to me. "Why would he take or want the mark?" I asked him. "Because before Sheamus, came back home to Ireland, he had found him a mate that he loved. A year before he came back and was going to bring her with him to live here; she was brutally beaten and murdered while still pregnant. He has not been the same. It's part of the reason he is so, distant yet protective of you. Because he doesn't want anyone else to every go through the pain he went through." He said. I began to tear up a little. Now I understand why he wouldn't really want to come near me at times since I found out I was pregnant. "He blames himself for it. So, when he became clear minded he went to Kane for the mark. Kane, knew what was going on and understood why Sheamus had went to him. Kane, knew the pain of losing the women he loved because of someone else. But Sheamus, didn't want the Mark of Kane to get revenge. He got it to stop the men from ever doing it again to anyone else." He said to me. "I didn't know why he looked so, upset on Halloween and All Hollows Eve. Now I know why." I said understanding now even more.

I got up carefully out of the bed and waddled towards the door to the hallway. "Baby?" Finn called out to me as he got up off the bed. "Yes?" I replied turning around to look at him. "Where are you going?" He asked me. "To talk to Sheamus." I replied. "I'll send a guard for him, you sit down." He ordered. I squeaked softly and sat down in the rocking chair as Finn, sent an on duty guard to go get Sheamus. "I know, what you want to talk to him about. You can't hide them thoughts from me, Baby Girl." He said looking at me. I frown feeling like he is angry with me or thinks the worst. "Do you hate me for it?" I asked softly looking at him as I bit my lip. He shook his head no. "Why would I be angry with you for something you can not control from happening in your heart?" He asked me. "It is normal for some Omega's to have more than one mate. It doesn't mean you don't love me any less than when we got together." He said rubbing my cheek softly.

Sheamus walked into the room. "Yes, My Lady?" He said as he closed the door walking into the middle of the room fear in his eyes he would hurt me. Finn, frowned knowing the male was having one of his moods. "Hold me?" I said softly. Sheamus froze up. "My Lady, I don't think that is appropriate for me to be doin'." He replied politely to me while looking at Finn. Finn, nods his head. "It's okay. I'm okay with it." He said to Sheamus. Sheamus swallows hard before slowly walking over holding his hand out to me. I took his hand softly and stood up. "It's okay you won't hurt me. I trust you Sheamus." I said to him softly as I looked at him. "I know you trust me. But every time I've been happy someone has snatched it away from me." He said looking away from me frowning while slightly growling. "Shhh. I'm not going anywhere." I cupped his cheek softly.

I stepped closer to him as looks down at me. "It's okay to hold her. She trust you and so, do I. I see the way you look at her from afar because you're afraid to love again. But you won't know what will happen until you take that first step." Finn said to Sheamus, as he walked over to us and stood behind me while his hands rested gently on my belly. Sheamus raised a hand to touch my belly but stopped and looked at me as if I was going to object. I tenderly took his hand and placed it on my belly while one of the pups touched his hand through my belly as a sign they like him. Sheamus began to tear up. "I forgot what love felt like after I lost her." Sheamus knew why he was called here. "Sheamus?" Finn said. "Aye?" He said in response. "Join us?" He said to Sheamus.

"Are ye sure 'bout it?" He asks softly as he went to move his hand away from my belly. "Yes, we are sure Sheamus." I said softly while pulling him closer for a kiss but looked at Finn, for permission first out of respect. The Demon King, nodded his head in approval as he watched on, while I kissed Sheamus, gentle but let him have the control. After a few moments we pulled apart and looked at each other. Sheamus's breathing had caught a little when I, leaned my head to the side and moved my hair to bare the right side of my neck for him. Finn's mating mark was on my neck on the left side. Sheamus looks at Finn, for approval. "Go ahead. Me and Y/N, have talked about it already." Finn answered the silent question. Sheamus let his k-9 teeth extend before he bit into my neck. I moaned a little at the feeling. After a few minutes he pulled away from me panting a little.

Sheamus, Finn, and myself laid in bed, just talking to each other before we silently fell asleep tangled up together.

#WWE #wwe smackdown #WWE Raw #WWE NXT #wwe fanfiction #finn balor #finn balor x reader #finn #Balor #drew mcintyre #Demon King #abo #alpha beta omega #x reader #fanfiction #sheamus x reader

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you-a-southpaw-doll · 3 years

Text

His Salvation ~ A John Winchester One-Shot

Summary: Based on SPN, S1, E21 “Salvation”. John gets threatened by Meg the demon if he doesn’t give the Colt to her. Meg threatens him, and harms Leigh while still on the phone. John tricks Meg by handing over a fake Colt. John, thinking Leigh (who’s the only woman to help him with hunting, with the boys, with coping with the loss of Mary, and also the woman he loves) is dead, goes to give Meg the Colt. On the way there, he gets a call from the hospital saying his wife has been involved in an accident. It takes him a minute to realize that Leigh’s actually alive since their secret code was to call each other husband and wife if they ever got in trouble. The search for the demon that killed Mary is put on hold. There’s never the car crash that happens at the end of S1, so John doesn’t need to make a deal with the yellow-eyed demon to save Dean.

Warning(s): Language. Angst. Threats - spoken, unspoken, well known, good, and bad. Violence. Fluff. Leigh’s a badass. Not beta’d, so...there’s that. I only have Grammarly used on this.

Author’s Note(s): Hey, y’all! I know it’s been a really long, hot minute since I last posted an update. Writer’s block is an absolute demon. Depression too. And with everything else going on this year, it’s just been crazy! But, here’s a John Winchester One-Shot! If I get enough feedback for it, I’ll do a part 2! But y’all gotta let me know! Hope everyone’s staying safe, staying negative from COVID, and that y’all have a Happy Holiday season! As always, I’m here, so feel free to reach out!

Word Count: 3,828 words

Relationship(s): John Winchester x Leigh Sullivan (OFC) [romantic].

Characters: John Winchester. Leigh Sullivan (OFC). Dean Winchester. Sam Winchester. Demon!Meg. Mary Winchester (Mentioned).

Taglist: @negans-network @prettyboynegan @mychemicalimagines @spnnnxangelsx @rockinkel21 @misskittycat02 @band--psycho@ofxallxwexlost @iron-halt @thamberlinawrites @ravenwings73 @lettherebepink @stoneyggirl @sebs-padawan @cladd716

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Story Time:

John’s P.O.V. ~ Salvation, Iowa - 2006

“Meg.” Sam says into his phone, shock lacing his voice.

My head jerks up from where I’d had it resting in my hands after arguing with the boys, well Dean really, ‘bout them not being able to get me to answer the phone. I know I suck at phone calls. To be honest, I really can’t stand phones...they’re just too confusing for my 51-year-old ass, even if you’d never know that’s how old I am since I look like I’m in my late 30s, maybe late 40s.

I’d much rather use a landline than a cell phone. It’s a miracle the ones I do have even stay charged. I have Leigh to thank for that. She’s been my saving grace, my salvation for well over two and a half decades. Hell, maybe even longer than that. She helped me raise the boys after my wife, Mary, died when Sammy was six months old, even though she was just barely outta her teenage years herself.

She was 15 when we first met 25 years ago and she became Dean’s babysitter and later Sammy’s. After Mary died, Leigh was right there, willing to help me with the boys as I set out on the mission to find Mary’s killer. I’d never wanted to get her dragged into the lifestyle of a Hunter, but she insisted, saying someone needed to help take care of the boys.

And...after rescuing her when her parents were killed by a werewolf a few years later, she stuck ‘round even more. By that point, she was 22, and made it clear she was an adult and could do whatever she wanted which just so happened to stick with the boys and I. So, I did what I had to, and we learned the ropes of being a Hunter together.

After Sam went to college a few years ago, it was just Dean, Leigh, and I. We continued on hunting. Sometimes, Dean would go on his own hunts, but Leigh would always stick right by my side, hunting with me. Somewhere around the time that Dean was in high school, Leigh and I ended up together.

I was hesitant at first, considering I’d known her since she was a teenager, but she pointed out that she was only 10 years younger than me and had always had a crush on me. So, after a rough hunt and a night of patching each other up, we’d fallen into bed together. From that point on, we were together.

The boys approved even if Dean had been a little hesitant at first; he didn’t want anyone to take his mom’s place. No one would ever take Mary’s place, but there was no denying the role Leigh had in all of our lives. She’d been the one to calm me down after Sam left for college, something I’d always wanted for my boys, but after being a Hunter for so long, I was only worried ‘bout their safety.

That was why I didn’t want Sam to go to California, to Stanford. I felt if he were there, I wouldn’t be able to protect him as easily from the things that go bump in the night. But, Leigh calmed me down, telling me that Sam was an adult now, and could make his own choices as well as being able to protect himself since we’d taught the boys a lot of what we knew.

The only reason Leigh’s not here, with us, with me, is because she went to see our friend and fellow Hunter, Caleb up in Lincoln, Nebraska, and help him with a case. The boys and I are working a lead that, hopefully, brings us closer to finding Yellow Eyes, the man, well, the demon responsible for Mary’s death.

Both Dean and I stare at Sam as we listen to his conversation with Meg. A woman who’d befriended Sam when he and Dean had a spat outside of a small town in Indiana a while back. She made her true colors show when she’d tried to have them killed. Only...she ended up falling out of a seven-story window.

There’s no way a human could’ve survived a fall like which means...she’s not human...she must be...fuck. She’s a demon. I get pulled outta my thoughts when I hear Sam’s voice and feel his eyes on me.

“My dad. I don’t know where my dad is.” He says.

I raise a brow, running a hand over my face and letting out a sigh. I stand and walk over to the motel window, looking out of it for a moment before turning back to Sam in time to see him holding his phone out to me. I sigh again and take it.

“This is John.” I say, my voice deep and empty of any emotions.

“Howdy, John. I'm Meg. I'm a friend of your boys. I'm also the one who watched Jim Murphy choke on his own blood…”

My heart tightens in my chest at her words. Jim was a close friend, fellow Hunter, and a priest. He was also murdered yesterday. I found out from Caleb when the boys and I were heading up here to Salvation, Iowa. Jim’s death...hit hard. It wasn’t ideal to get close to anyone, not in our line of work, but sometimes it couldn’t be helped.

“...Still there John-boy?” Meg’s voice cuts through the phone again.

“I’m here.” I ground out.

“Well, that was yesterday. Today, I’m in Lincoln.”

My heart tightens again.

“Visiting another old friend of yours.”

My lungs stop working.

“She wants to say hi.”

My knees nearly buckle as my stomach drops to my chest. No. No. God-fuckin’-dammit! No! I take in a breath, trying not to give away the turmoil currently going on inside me. ‘Specially not when I hear her voice through the phone.

“John, whatever you do don’t give…”

I hear Meg shush Leigh and my heart breaks.

“Leigh?” I let out in a deep breath, trying my best to keep my emotions from being relayed to Meg.

The boys both jerk their heads up and look at me, worry and confusion on their faces. I blink and close my eyes for a second.

“You listen to me.” I tell Meg. “She’s got nothing to do with anything. You let her go.”

“We know you have the Colt, John.” Meg replies, her voice even.

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ ‘bout.”

“Oh. Ok. Well, listen to this.”

My brows furrow and a moment later, my whole world comes crashing down. The sound of a knife or something equally sharp slashing through something followed by the sound of Leigh gasping and clearing drowning in her own blood fills the phone. I slump against the wall, my knees barely holding me up at this point.

“Leigh. Leigh!” I somehow manage to yell, nearly crushing the phone against the side of my face.

“Save the boys, husband.” I hear the love of my life croak out as she bleeds to death.

My heart breaks at the title, something I’d dreamt ‘bout hearing her call me for the last few years, but hadn’t happened, and was really just our code word we’d use when we were in a tough situation and wanted to let each other know everything was gonna be ok. Except. This time. It wouldn’t be ok.

Not as I hear the sounds from Leigh slow.

“You hear that?” Meg taunts. “That’s the sound of your friend dying. Now, let’s try this again. We know you have the Colt, John. Word travels fast. So, as far as we’re concerned, you just declared war. And this is what war looks like. It has casualties.”

I growl. “I’m gonna kill you. You know that?”

She laughs. “Oh, John, please. Mind your blood pressure. So, this is the thing. We’re going to keep doing what we’re doing. And your friends, anyone who has ever helped you, gave you shelter, anyone you ever loved. They’ll all die. Unless you give us that gun.”

I take in a deep breath, not saying a word as I listen to her words and try my damndest to hear any sign from Leigh. Something to tell me she’s still alive. But I know...I know it’s not possible. Leigh’s dead. The love of my life. The first woman I’ve let myself love since Mary. The woman who helped raise my sons.

The badass woman who I was gonna ask to marry me once I’d ganked the evil son of a bitch that killed Mary. The only woman who had somehow broken down all the walls I’d built up. She was dead and I’d failed her. Failed to protect her. Failed to...fuck. I’d failed her. And I couldn’t fail her anymore by letting Meg and her demon friends kill more of mine and Leigh’s friends or any other innocent person.

“I’m waiting, Johnny.” Meg says. “Better answer before the buzzer.”

“Okay.” I sigh.

“Sorry? I didn’t quite get that.”

“I said okay. I’ll bring you the Colt.”

***

Leigh’s P.O.V. ~ Lincoln, Nebraska

After Meg slit my throat, and I managed to croak out a few words to John, everything got darker with each passing second. By the time Meg hung up the phone with John, I’m barely holding on. I can feel my heart barely beating and breathing is almost impossible, but I refuse to give up. I refuse to die like this.

So, I make it seem like I had. This ain’t the first time I’ve faked my death. But it is the first time I’ve faked it while being alone. Meg being in the room doesn’t count. I mean being alone by not having the Winchesters nearby. Just barely holding on, I hold my breath and keep my eyes open, staring right at Meg.

I want her to think I’m dead and for her to stare right into my eyes as she does. I watch, not moving, not blinking, barely conscious, as she tosses the phone on my lap, and sneers at me.

“What the hell are you looking at?” She hisses before walking outta Caleb’s office.

I wait for a solid 15 seconds, even though it feels like an eternity, to make sure she’s truly gone before I force my thumb to press five buttons on my phone, hoping it’s right. A second later, I hear the call connect as it starts ringing, the noise amplified by the speaker. Another second passes before I hear the call truly connect.

“911. What’s your emergency?” The operator asks.

“Ambulance.” I croak out. “Now. Please.”

“Ma’am? I’m sorry. I need you to repeat that. Can you speak up?”

“Ambulance. Now.” I try to say louder.

“Ma’am? What’s your location?”

I try to get the address to Caleb’s out, only hoping the operator can make sense of it. I know my GPS is turned on, so hopefully, she can trace it.

“Ambulance.” I manage to get out once more.

It’s a miracle I’ve managed to hang on this long, let alone get this much out. But, of course, every miracle ends at some point. As soon as I get the word, everything goes black.

***

I come to, briefly, to bright lights, loud noises, and a bunch of people standing over me.

“My husband. John Winchester. Call him.” I say, hoping it’s loud ‘nough.

One of the people standing over me says something, but I don’t hear him. Everything goes dark again as I pass out again.

***

John’s P.O.V. ~ Lincoln, Nebraska

Getting outta my truck, I answer my phone without looking at the caller ID. I don’t care who’s calling me. Not anymore. Everything’s numb. Yes, I have my sons, but for the second time in my life, I’ve lost the woman I love. The boys warned me that this was a suicide mission. There’s only one reason Meg would want me to come alone with the Colt, but I told them I didn’t care.

Sam looked at me with understanding in his eyes since he knew what I was going through from where he’d lost his girlfriend, Jess, a few months ago. Dean tried to argue with me, but I just gave him a look and he shut up. We arranged for me to bring Mega a fake version of the Colt in order to buy the boys some time so they could finish out the hunt and finally kill Yellow Eyes, once and for all.

I flip the phone open and press it to my ear as I stare up at the warehouse where I’m supposed to be meeting Meg.

“What?” I say into the phone.

“Is this John Winchester?” The man on the other end says, making me tense up.

“Yes. Who is this and how did you get this number?”

“Your wife. Your contact was in her phone.”

I furrow my brow. “My wife?”

“Yes, sir. Your wife. I’m sorry to tell you that she’s been attacked, but she’s at Bryan Medical Center West Campus.”

“Wait. What? My wife? Attacked? She’s alive?”

“Yes, sir. She is. She’s in surgery now.”

“I’ll be there soon!”

With that, I hang up my phone, feeling my heart beat faster in my chest.

“She’s alive.” I whisper to myself. “My fuckin’ badass girl. She’s alive.”

I glance around, spot a water tower on the roof of the warehouse, and after checking my pockets for the rosary beads, I head up there. I bless the water, turning it into holy water. If Meg’s a demon, she’s gonna fuckin’ pay even more for what she put my girl through. After blessing the water, I head inside the warehouse.

I make my way to one of the large, empty rooms, knowing that’s where Meg’ll be. Guess I’m early. She’s not here yet. Fuck. I just want to get this over with. Looking around, I realize I can rig something up to put the water lines on a makeshift timer. So, I do. Then, I scrawl out a note, telling Meg how sorry I am I missed her, even though it’s not true, and that I hope she rots in hell.

That part’s true.

Once I have the note written and the timer set up, I lay the Colt on the floor with the note, and then book it back to my truck. Even if this isn’t how I wanted things to go with Meg, I don’t give a shit. Even though I haven’t slept in two days, and am running off of straight caffeine, I don’t give a shit. Leigh’s alive, and I’m not gonna waste another minute not by her side.

I tear outta the warehouse parking lot, rushing to the hospital. As I drive, I call Dean.

“Dad?” He asks. “How’d it go with Meg?”

“She’s alive.” I blurt out, talking ‘bout Leigh.

“Meg? You left her alive?!”

“No! I didn’t see her. Something came up. I left her a note. She might come for y’all…”

“Left her a note? Why? What came up?”

“I got a call from the hospital. Leigh...Dean...Leigh’s alive.”

“She is?!?! What? How?”

“Yes. She is. So, I’m heading to the hospital. I’ve got to be by her side. But. I wanted to let you know. In case Meg shows up.”

“We’ll keep an eye out for her, dad. Don’t worry. You stay with Leigh. We’ll come as soon as we’re done here.”

“Thanks, son.”

Our conversation ends a few moments later. I pull into a parking spot at the hospital a few minutes later. As soon as I’m parked, I have the keys outta ignition and in my pocket as I rush outta the truck and into the hospital. I take a deep breath once I’m inside, trying to calm my nerves. The last thing I need is to appear even more outta it than I already am.

I run my fingers through my already messed up hair and then down my face, taking another deep breath in. When I’m done, I walk over to the nurse’s station.

“Excuse me, miss?” I say in what I hope is a soft, non-shaky tone.

The young nurse looks up from her computer. I give her a small smile.

“Yes, sir?” She asks, blushing a little.

“Hi. I got a call. My wife...she was attacked...they said she was here?”

“Wife? What’s her name?” Her fingers resting on her keyboard.

“Leigh Sullivan.”

She nods and quickly types my girl’s name into the computer. Whatever she sees on the screen has her eyes widening more than the Grand Canyon. My heart falls deeper into the pit of my stomach.

“What? What is it?” I ask, my fingers gripping the edge of the counter so tight that my knuckles turn white.

“Nothing, sir. I just...your wife, sir…” She starts.

I swallow deeply, expecting the worst. “Yes?”

She looks up at me. “Sir, your wife is one of the most badass women I’ve ever heard of. To survive having her throat slit and still making a 911 call? I respect her.”

I let out a deep breath. “So she’s still alive?”

“Oh! Yes. I’m sorry. She is. She’s outta surgery now too.”

“Thank fuck. Can you tell me what room? I got a badass woman to see and tell her she’s loved.”

The nurse smiles. “Of course, sir. She’s in room 214.”

“Thank you.”

I give her another smile and then head to room 214. Standing in front of the door, I urge myself to try and calm down. The last thing Leigh needs is to see me panicking. Slowly, I open the door and step inside. As my eyes adjust to the darkness of the room, I take everything in. The Hunter in me looks for anything unusual.

Seeing nothing outta the ordinary, the normal part of me focuses on the figure lying in the hospital bed. My heart breaks as my feet shuffle forward. Leigh’s lying there, hooked up to a bunch of different machines with a thick band of gauze ‘round her neck. Aside from that, she looks like she’s peaceful, almost as if she’s just sleeping.

I slump down in the chair next to her side, and immediately take her small hand in both of my much larger ones. Bringing it to my lips, I kiss her knuckles, not paying attention to the tears rolling down my cheeks. It’s been years since I’ve cried. I haven’t allowed myself that luxury. But now...I can’t stop it.

I don’t want to. I thought I’d lost Leigh, but my girl...she’s a fuckin’ fighter. I hold her hand tightly, not wanting to let go.

“Leigh? Baby, I’m here.” I tell her, my voice shaky and full of emotions. “Wake up for me? I wanna see those beautiful eyes, that stunning smile, and hear you tell me that I’m a fuckin’ dumbass. So, wake up? For me? Please?”

When she doesn’t respond, I place another kiss to her knuckles. I didn’t really expect her to wake up. Not right now at least. She’s been through hell. She needs her rest. Hell, I need my own rest too, and I end up falling asleep in an uncomfortable hospital chair, Leigh’s hand in mine, and my head by her hip.

***

Over the next week, I stay by Leigh’s side. The boys eventually show up a couple of days later, looking just as exhausted as I do. Dean tells me that he killed Meg, says it was payback for what she’d done to Leigh. Sam stays by Leigh’s side, holding her other hand. Four days after the attack, Dean looks at me.

“Dad?” He starts.

I look up at him. “Hmmm?”

“You should go shower, get something to eat, get some actual sleep.”

“I’m not leaving her, Dean.”

“I know, Dad. But, you need to take care of yourself. You haven’t really been sleeping, and I know for a fact that you haven’t taken a shower in nearly a week. You’re starting to stink. We both know that Leigh wouldn’t want to see you like this.”

I sigh. “I’ll take a shower in the bathroom there.” I point to the bathroom attached to Leigh’s hospital room. “Can you go get my bag from my truck? The one with the clothes, not the guns.”

Dean nods. “I’ll do that. And I’ll run out and get some food too, while you shower. Sammy can stay with Leigh.”

I run a hand over my face, nodding. “Fine. But I won’t take a long shower. I don’t...I just gotta be here when she wakes up.”

Both of my boys nod in understanding. Dean leaves the room while I stand and look at Sam.

“I won’t leave her side, Dad. Go shower. You stink worse than that hunt we were on when all the showers in the town stopped working ‘cause of the monster.” He says.

Unable to stop the small, soft chuckle that escapes my lips at his words, I nod. I lay a hand on his shoulder, a silent gesture of comfort before I lean down and place a soft kiss on Leigh’s forehead.

“I’ll be right back, baby. Your old man’s gotta go get cleaned up so you don’t ditch his ass when you wake up.” I whisper, half jokingly.

She doesn’t respond, but I don’t let it crush my hopes. Not any more than they’ve already been crushed. I make my way to the bathroom, and turn the shower on. While I’m in there, Dean cracks the door.

“Dad? I’m putting your bag by the door here.” He says.

“Thanks, son.” I call out as I wash my hair and beard.

He just let out a grunt in response and the door shuts once again. Dean’s always been more of the silent type unless he’s being a smart ass, but when it comes to him hurting, he’s always been more silent instead of letting his emotions completely show. After I’m as cleaned up as I can be in a hospital shower, I step out, dry off, and tug on a pair of semi-clean jeans, an old tee, and one of my plaid button-up shirts that Leigh loves the most.

I open the bathroom door and glance toward the bed. I see beautiful hazel eyes staring back at me.

“Leigh.” I rush over to her side.

I lean down and gently capture her lips with mine. After a few seconds, I pull away and look into her eyes.

“I love you, Leigh.” I whisper.

She smiles slightly with droopy eyes. Even when she’s like this, she’s so fuckin’ beautiful.

“You don’t have to say anything but I wanted you to know.” I smile widely. “I’ll say it forever if you’ll let me. Get some more sleep. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

I kiss her forehead as her eyes close. Yep. I’m definitely proposing soon.

#His Salvation #John Winchester One-Shot #John Winchester Fanfic #John Winchester #Supernatural One-Shot #Supernatural Fanfic #SPN One-Shot #SPN Fanfic #Supernatural S1 E21 #SPN S1 E21 #Supernatural 1x21 #SPN 1x21 #Jeffrey Dean Morgan One-Shot #Jeffrey Dean Morgan Fanfic #JDM One-Shot #JDM Fanfic #Jeffrey Dean Morgan #JDM

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haro-whumps · 4 years

Text

Group Whumpees 5: Tired

CW: Referenced/Implied noncon, shitty family relationships, faint from hunger, vomiting from fear, disassociation, slavery, aftermath of abuse, multiple whumpees

Tag list: @bleeding-demon-teeth @theycomeinthrees @redwingedwhump @whimperwoods @inpainandsuffering @whole-and-apart-and-between @whump-whump-whump-it-up @whumpingupastorm @newandfiguringitout @lonesome--hunter @looptheloup @icannotweave @cowboysrappin @deluxewhump @whumping-every-day @yeet-me-out-a-window @what-a-whumpy-world @burtlederp @constellationwhump @swordkallya @finder-of-rings @fairybean101

Masterlist

He’d taken as many painkillers as his body mass allowed (and he was not a small man) but Galo’s headache was still going strong. It had been a few days since his aunt’s death, so funeral preparations were in their final stretch, the funeral itself the next day. Which, of course, meant that anything that could go wrong, was going wrong very presently.

“I told you, dad,” Galo said, rubbing at his temple with the hand not holding his phone, “After the funeral.”

“It hardly seems fair to me that you’ve got access to all her fuckin’ money whenever you goddamn feel like it and I have to wait--”

“Twenty four hours, dad,” Galo interrupted, which he knew was a bad idea in the long run because now he’d just pissed his father off but he was done having the exact same fucking conversation over and over and o-fucking-ver again! “I love you, I’ll see you tomorrow, goodbye.”

And now he’d done it. Hanging up on his father? A bad idea.

He turned his phone off.

“If anyone wants me,” he murmured to the ceiling, “they can have me tomorrow.”

Except… no, what if the funeral home called?

...He’d give it an hour. Enough time for his dad to give up. And if the funeral home was on the list of missed calls, well, hey. They’d leave a message, and he could get back to them then. It gave him a small thrill, defying his father like this. He was very good at keeping a brave face and putting up with his dad’s shit, on the basis that it was his father, and he loved him, and he also knew his dad could make things miserable for him if he responded in kind. But it was kind of nice to be the unreasonable one, for once.

A very soft knock on the doorframe, and Galo closed his eyes and covered them with a hand. His head hurt so bad, fuck. And Nyla didn’t knock like that, hers were always crisp and clear, which meant the person knocking was one of the other four, and Galo had gotten… more or less okay at navigating around Nyla in the last few days. The others were still pretty enigmatic.

But. He couldn’t just ignore them. He removed his hand, sat up, and saw the last person he expected.

Lilah had largely been hidden from Galo’s view. He was more or less aware that the others were keeping her away from him on purpose, so it was something of a surprise to see her seeking him out intentionally, and without anyone else along with her.

“Hey, Lilah,” Galo said, voice quiet and gentle. He offered her a tired smile. “What’s up?”

“I’ve prepared the flower arrangements for tomorrow, Master. With,” Lilah licked her lips, barely a breath’s moment, “your approval, I will bring them inside, or remake them as you see fit.”

“Already?” Galo asked, pleasantly surprised, “It’s not even noon. Thanks, Lilah, yeah, let’s take a look.” He stood and crossed to the doorway, noting how Lilah grew visibly more and more tense as he got closer. He offered his hand to her, and she knelt and kissed it swiftly. Like he’d hoped, she seemed comforted by the familiar routine, and when she stood back up and followed after him she looked a little less like a frightened statue. Galo stretched his neck from side to side, wishing he had something as simple as that that he could look towards for comfort.

God, that was pathetic. It was probably a good thing Lilah came and grabbed him; staring at some flowers and a bit of fresh air would probably liven Galo’s mood.

Auntie Bethany’s house phone rang.

“I should disconnect that,” he muttered, followed immediately by the thought, No, no you shouldn’t. Nyla uses the phone to do her job and you’ll need it if you ever have to contact them while you’re away. Stop whining.

Lilah was staring up at him through a loose brown wave of hair, her freckles stark and her injuries not as bad as when he’d first shown up, but still very, very obviously present. He offered her a smile, probably not as convincing as he would’ve liked, but this week had been a nightmare. He was so fucking tired and the funeral wasn’t even until tomorrow. God.

“Master,” Nyla greeted, floating into his peripheral and kneeling when she got close, delicately lifting his hand and kissing his knuckles, “A man claiming to be your father is on the line, Master.”

“Thank you Nyla,” Galo said, “That is my father, yes, and I need you to do something for me, okay? Go ahead and head back to whatever line you answered, and hang up without saying anything.”

Nyla’s surprise was the work of a microsecond, an almost imperceptible twitch to the edge of her ever-present smile. “Yes Master.”

Galo watched her slip away and then turned back to Lilah, offering another smile that was probably even less convincing. “Onward to the garden, eh?”

He kept an eye on her in his peripheral, figuring staring at her directly would freak her out. “Haven’t seen you around much” would be a quick way to get her scared and feeling like she’d done something wrong. “It’s good to see you” probably couldn’t hurt? But then, most anything could hurt, in this place.

“How’ve you been, Lilah?” he settled on eventually, nearing the door to the gardens. Nope, still a bad guess. Her eyes widened, staring vacantly ahead of her, hands fisted in the hem of her shirt. He tried giving her a moment to process his words, maybe give an answer, but he worried she wouldn’t even see the door until she walked right into it. Cautiously, he extended one arm out in front of her, and placed the other gently on her back with a concerned, “Lilah?”

She jumped and stumbled, which he was glad he’d expected. She landed on his outstretched arm, gloved fingers digging briefly into his muscles before she righted herself.

“Sorry Master,” she breathed, words hardly loud enough to hear.

“No big,” Galo assured. “Just got a little worried about you for a second there. You were about to walk into the door.”

“Sorry sir--Sorry Master.”

“You’re okay,” Galo said, carefully placing his hand on her head. Head pats worked for Nyla, once she recognized them for what they were, he could only hope they might work for Lilah too. “You’re good,” he tried, remembering that that tended to go over better.

Lilah glanced up at him, surprised, and his smile was a little more genuine that round. He’d guessed right, it looked like. She glanced down, eyes wide and peculiarly unblinking, and murmured, “Thank you Master.”

He held the door open for her, ushering her out of the mansion, and he caught sight of the floral arrangements, all of them perched on the lip of the fountain in the center of the weird hedge crop-circle. It was a bit of a walk, but probably central to all of the flowers that Lilah would’ve been working with. And honestly? He needed a walk.

They were about halfway between the house and the exterior hedge when Lilah quietly said, “I have been grateful for the challenge and stimulation of the flower arrangements, Master. I have enjoyed serving you in this way.”

Galo glanced at her, then moved his eyes purposefully forward. “I’m glad. It can be nice to break from routine.”

“Master,” Nyla called softly, and Galo twitched, already knowing what she was about to say. He turned anyway, trying to keep his sour expression off his face. Nyla wasn’t at a point where she would understand he wasn’t upset with her. She pat down her apron when she got close enough to the two of them that she could speak without raising her voice, and curtsied.

“Your father has called again, Master.”

Galo’s eye twitched involuntarily, and he rubbed at it, feeling the absolute last of his patience start to fray. “Figures.” When he got back in the house, he was finding one of those really oversized wine glasses and filling it to the fucking top. “Okay, here’s what to do now. Leave the phone off the hook, and ignore it. Do not hang it up, and even when it starts blaring the busy signal and fast busy signal, continue to not hang it up. Please let Evan and Greyson--and Sasha, I guess, if you feel like it’s a concern--know not to hang it up, and then go back to your day, alright?”

“Yes Master,” Nyla said, bowing shallowly and then twirling with an attractive flair of her skirts, and returning to the mansion. Galo took a deep, slow breath, covering his face with his hands, and then, for good measure, took another one. He dropped his hands and offered a terse smile to Lilah.

“Now the flower arrangements.”

“Yes Master!” Lilah gasped, ducking her head and arms circling herself, stumbling as she first backed up, then turned and sped-walked like the world’s angriest roomba was hot on her heels.

“Shit,” Galo breathed to himself, rubbing at his face. Another mistake. He knew he had to accept that he would be making a lot of those, but it was hard to do when each mistake hurt or panicked the people in his care. His long legs caught up with her easily, and a concerned glance at her face revealed she was once again fish-eyed.

“Lilah,” he said gently, arm once again extended in front of her and his fingers lightly tapping her spine. She came to a dead halt, shoulders up to her ears, breathing shallow.

“Lilah, take a deep breath for me please. Nice and slow.”

She tried, it was obvious she was trying. Just not succeeding very well. “That’s it,” he encouraged anyways, “that’s better, keep trying for me, you’re doing great. In,” he breathed in deeply, loudly through his nose, “and out,” he let it out slowly, “Try to match me; it’s okay if it takes a few tries. In,” Lilah got closer, and Galo pressed his palm encouragingly against her back, “and out, there you go Lilah, do that three more times for me.”

She did, and it hurt, how hard this was for her, how scared of him she was. It ached that people could be so frightened by him, when he’d never wanted to hurt anybody.

“There, Lilah, atta girl,” he said, keeping his tone as gentle as he could. No matter how tired and stressed (and pissed) he was, he needed to look out for Lilah and the others, first and foremost. His own emotions could take a backburner, for a little while.

He turned his attention to the flower arrangements, removing the weight of his attention from her, and approached the closest one. “These are lovely, Lilah,” he praised. Too good for Auntie Bethany, he thought privately, slowly rounding the large fountain. “They look really professional; how long have you been doing this sort of thing?”

“I have arranged bouquets for Mistress Bethany’s decor for four years, Master.”

Four whole years, he thought, and glanced at her, keeping his nose pointed towards a gladioli. She was so… small. He was sure it didn’t help that she was curled in on herself standing up, hugging her own arms and staring into the middle distance with the occasional twitch and glance his way, before staring out into space again.

“Lilah, how old are you?” Galo asked, keeping his tone conversational. Idly, he pinched a dead leaf that had been trimmed, but fallen in between the stems, and flicked it away.

“Eighteen, Master.”

Minus four years meant she was fourteen when Auntie Bethany had bought her. That felt so, impossibly young. Logically, it made sense; that was about the age she’d gotten Greyson. Obviously, Galo didn’t remember that part of his life very well, given that he’d been preoccupied riding tricycles and singing his ABC’s, but he also couldn’t remember a point in his life when Auntie Bethany hadn’t had Greyson. God, when he was fourteen he’d been trying out for the swim team and worrying about his grade in history, and Lilah had been indoctrinated into… this.

Everything felt tired and heavy. He hid behind a flower arrangement opposite the fountain to Lilah, and tried to muster up some strength or courage or god knew what to get him through this. He was going to drink a very large glass of wine, and then take a nap.

In an ironic twist, he felt bad for hating the fact that he had to walk on eggshells every single time he decided to do literally anything, around these five. But he did hate it. It was so hard, but he didn’t know what else to do, but how dare he feel frustrated when they were the torture victims?! It was hardly fair of him.

He rounded back around the fountain, smile at the ready, and gave Lilah a gentle pat on the back. “Good job, Lilah, these are all perfect.” From the heel of his palm to the tip of his middle finger, his hand covered the majority of her back. She was so, so small. He started to walk past her, slow, telegraphing his movements plainly. She turned, but something must have gone wrong because when she listed to the side, she couldn’t reorient fast enough. He caught her, doll-like in his arms, but where he expected her to simply lean on him a moment to regain her footing like she had earlier, her knees buckled.

“Easy, girl,” Galo said, alarmed, kneeling down to settle her on the grass. “Easy, easy, what’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry Master!” she whined, covering her mouth with one hand, her other braced on the ground. She sounded like she was about to cry.

“No need,” Galo hushed, touching the back of his hand to her forehead. No fever, maybe a little cool even. “You don’t need to be sorry, Lilah, I’m just worried.” He stroked a hand gently, shallowly up and down her back (she didn’t have a ton of back to rub). “What happened there?”

“I’m--dizzy, Master.”

“Okay, do you know why you’re feeling dizzy?”

She took another deep-ish breath, and it twinged his heart to see her trying so hard. “I’m hungry, Master,” she answered very quietly.

“Did you not eat breakfast?” Galo asked, brow furrowed. He moved his hand to touch her wrist, feeling her pulse there. A little quick.

“No, Master, I haven’t eaten anything since the last time you gave us permission--none of us have, I promise. We’ve been good, Master, please, we’ve been very good,” she pleaded, desperately looking his way once before returning her eyes to the ground.

…Fuck. Fuck. He’d had his suspicions, from their thinness, that Auntie Bethany had revoked food as a punishment, but he could never have guessed that their default was not eating until they were told to.

“Okay, thank you for answering Lilah. You did good,” he said, gears in his head turning slowly. “You’ve all been drinking water though, right?” Because if that wasn’t the case he had a brand new priority that needed to be taken care of immediately.

Lilah glanced at him in sheer terror, but he didn’t backtrack or rephrase. This question needed answered.

“Yes, Master,” she said tremulously, body tense.

“Good girl, Lilah. That’s what you were meant to do.”

She relaxed a half-step. He watched her swallow, and she nodded, just barely, as though to herself.

“You’ve all been bathing?”

“Yes Master,” she said with a shaky but improved sort of confidence.

“Good,” he praised. He knew they’d been grooming their hair--Nyla’s never looked out of place, and Sasha’s and Evan’s were neatly combed. “Was it just eating that my aunt made you wait for permission for?”

“I--” she swallowed, licked her lips, and took another deep breath, “--don’t know, Master, I think so.”

“Okay? Were there other things you couldn’t do until you got permission?”

Lilah glanced at him, panicked, and he held up a hand to halt her.

“That was too broad, let me rephrase. Are there things you need that you have to get permission for?”

“Just food, Master, and sleep, but, we go to bed when our owner does?” Lilah didn’t sound very sure of herself, scared of getting the answer wrong.

“Well done, Lilah, good girl. Okay, you’ve all done very well for me, and you all definitely deserve to eat. Let’s go get some food in you.”

Lilah perked up, staring up at Galo as he stood with surprised sort of delight. He held out a hand for her and she kissed it, which, well, honestly he should’ve been expecting. “Grab on, I’ll help you stand,” Galo redirected, and she placed her (tiny, so fucking tiny god) hand in his own. She was a little like Nyla, where she barely put any of her weight into that touch, but at least he could feel something there, unlike Nyla.

“Alright, quickest route to the kitchen would be… through the garage?” Galo mused aloud, “Or, well, the shed-garage-hybrid-thing?” Honestly why did Auntie Bethany even have two garages? Only one actually attached to the driveway, the other hosted the mower-tractor thing that Galo should probably learn the official name of and all the gardening supplies, but still. Half of the car garage could be used to store landscaping stuff! No one needed that many actual cars; the size of it was, like everything else here, absurd.

“Yes, Master.” Both of them were attached to the mansion, too, the rear one near the kitchen. Convenient, like fucking everything around here, huh? He held the wooden door open for her, ushering her in first, and rubbed at his undercut tiredly.

She stumbled again, her hand shooting out to catch herself on the wall, and in doing so she smacked the handle of a rake. Galo shot his arm out, intending to catch the thing before it smacked into her, and the metal teeth caught him on the forearm.

“Shit!” he swore, tossing the rake to the floor and gripping his arm near the elbow. He examined the wound--shallow, but it stung like a bitch--before turning eyes on Lilah, who was, predictably, petrified. She’d been on the brink of panic all day, and Galo became instantly aware that this would send her into an attack. He wasn’t--it was all moving so fast he couldn’t--she looked so scared and--

“Lilah, go stick an ice cube in your mouth,” he ordered, loud and mercifully firm. It was a trick he’d read online somewhere, and he could only hope it worked.

Fortunately, step one of the ice cube trick: disorientation, seemed to do its job.

“I--Master?” she squeaked.

“Lilah, go stick an ice cube in your mouth,” he repeated, ideally with the same tone and inflection as the first time. “If it melts before I get there, do a second one. Go.”

She went. Step two of the trick: movement, fed into a person’s fight or flight response, allowing their monkey hindbrain to feel like they were running away from the threat. Galo imagined that actually being away from him--the “threat” of the situation--would help calm her down, too.

Steps three and four: tactile stimulation to ground the person in reality, and a forced kickstart to the salivary glands that took bodily attention away from fight or flight, would happen, ideally, while he was rubbing hydrogen peroxide on this and sticking some bandaids on top. She would be scared, no doubt about that, but hopefully, hopefully, a panic attack had been circumvented. It also bought him some time to think, which he needed.

He cleaned up his arm--ouch, it stung--and grabbed his box of protein energy bars. There were only six to a box, and he’d already had at least one, so he was relieved to see he still had five left. These would do until lunch time.

He went to the kitchen, where he found Lilah bent over the sink--should he… have instructed her to swallow the melted water? He kinda hadn’t thought he would need to, but that probably didn’t matter at this point--and Sasha with her hands on Lilah’s shoulders, bent over her in concern. Sasha released her and backed away when she saw Galo enter, eyes wide and afraid, and Galo extended his hand to her, high up near her face. Sasha had a tendency of going directly to her knees whenever he was in the same room as her, which wasn’t very sanitary or necessary or anything he was particularly fond of her doing, so his way around it was to give her his hand to kiss, but high enough up she had to stay standing to do it. Nyla and Greyson would sometimes move his hands in order to kiss them, but Sasha never did.

“Hey Sasha, here, eat this,” he said, handing her a power bar, and he set the box with the remaining four on the counter. He leaned his hip against the lip of the sink and placed his palm on Lilah’s back, making her squeak.

“You’re alright, Lilah. I know it was an accident.”

“I’m sorry Master,” she hiccupped, crying, and the ice cube fell out on the last syllable.

“I know, I know, it’s okay,” Galo assured, rubbing a hand over her back and bracing her by the shoulder. “It’s okay, Lilah. You’re sorry, it was an accident, it’s okay.” She was trembling so hard, fuck. “Take it easy, Lilah, deep breaths for me, okay?” And she tried. God, she tried so hard, he could tell, and he stayed next to her, rubbing her back until she seemed more or less able to walk without collapsing from fear or her own sobs.

“Here, Lilah,” he said, handing her a power bar. “Eat this and go lie down until lunch, okay? You are officially taking the rest of the day off, no work until tomorrow for you.”

“Master?” she squeaked.

“That’s an order, Lilah,” he said as gently as he could. She took the bar in trembling fingers and left the kitchen in a rush, and Galo rubbed at his undercut, trying not to sigh. Ugh, he really needed a hair trim.

“Sasha,” he said, tone even and light, and she still flinched, the empty wrapper of her energy bar crinkling in her anxious fist. “When you get started on lunch, make enough for six, yeah?”

She nodded, looking surprised but briefly pleased, and he surveyed the kitchen. Everywhere were trees and stacks and platters of foodstuffs, probably waaay more than the funeral would actually need, but eh. Whatever. He could afford to be a little wasteful.

“Sasha,” he said, approaching her, and her wide blue eyes stared up at him in terror. “I’m giving you a new set of responsibilities, okay? From now on, you need to make three meals a day for everyone, every day. You’re in charge of making sure everyone eats. Unless I revoke food privileges,” which he never would, but Sasha likely wouldn’t believe that, “you’re in charge of everyone having at least three meals. If someone’s hungry between meals, it’s your job to feed them then, too. Alright?”

Sasha nodded, and Galo let out a tiny sigh of relief. Good, it stuck, she didn’t look confused and wasn’t searching his face like she might tell where the catch was. Framing it as one of her responsibilities had worked. “I’ll let Nyla know about the change, too.”

He stopped her before she could drop to her knees by holding his hand out to her a second time, and she kissed it again.

“Good girl,” he praised, settling his left hand on her right shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze. It was the spot that she was most receptive to, he was pretty sure. She didn’t like her left shoulder touched, and anywhere on the face or head was a definite no-go, but she would occasionally lean into the touch if it was on her right shoulder. “I know I can count on you.”

Fear was replaced by a starry eyed awe, and no small amount of surprise. He gave her shoulder another squeeze, and left the kitchen.

Aw fuck, someone still had to bring the floral arrangements inside to protect them from weather damage. He snagged a bottle of wine while he was halfway through the door, pulled out the stopper, and drank straight from the bottle. His nap would have to wait.

Lilah staggered into the kitchen, door banging against the wall and making Sasha jump.

“Sorry,” Lilah whispered, unable to see very well. She landed somewhere on the lip of counter between the sink and the fridge, fingers digging into the marbe hard enough she had to have reopened a scab. She could see the red. She couldn’t feel it.

“Lilah?” Sasha asked, sounding horrified, and Lilah could relate. Her fingers struggled to grip the freezer door handle, and it was even harder to fight past the suction and pry the thing open.

“Lilah h-honey what’s wr-wrong?” Sasha asked urgently, quietly.

I have to put ice in my mouth and I hurt Master Galo warred for dominance, each equally important. One was the order she had to follow. The other was the explanation for whatever was about to happen to her, so Sasha wouldn’t be confused when Lilah was punished on the kitchen tile.

“Ice,” Lilah gasped, crying already. It was worse, when she started crying before the punishment began. If she could hold it in until the first or second swing (she never made it further than that) then sometimes Mistress could be convinced that she was being sufficiently punished, and the pain was the only cause. But crying beforehand was a punishable offense. And Lilah already deserved to be punished so badly.

“I need to put ice in my mouth,” Lilah choked out, “I have to leave it there until it melts, and i-if it melts before Master arrives I have to do a second one.”

Sasha handed her an ice wedge and Lilah put it in her mouth, the sharp cold making her hiccup. It--disoriented her, stung, almost, distracted her from her fear for a moment. She didn’t understand what the point of this was--maybe Master Galo had a sensitive mouth, and the ice would become rapidly intolerable for him? Mistress had always come down hard on their knees, especially when her own were flaring up.

If Master Galo planned on hitting her like Mistress had--

Lilah rushed to the sink, managing to make the couple steps before she vomited. Water and bile came up, plus the ice, and she sobbed once, daringly loud for someone already in trouble. She extended her hand, she needed to--

“No, L-Lilah, no, j-just get a n-new one,” Sasha interrupted, moving Lilah’s hand away from the ice in the sink and turning the hot water on. “You b-barely st-started that one,” then, quieter, “h-he won’t kn-know.”

Lilah put the new ice wedge in her mouth and watched the hot water melt the ice in the sink, rinsing away the bile as well. Sasha kept an arm around Lilah’s back, hand trembling on her shoulder, and turned the water off the moment the melted ice was small enough to fit down the drain. Sasha’s other hand came to Lilah’s other shoulder, and Lilah keened softly. She tongued the ice into her cheek and said, miserably, “I hurt Master.” Lilah choked on a sob. “I hurt him.”

“Oh, Lilah…” Sasha gasped, and Lilah didn’t need to look to know she was near-tears herself. Lilah wished she could stop crying. She wished she could go Quiet, but that probably wouldn’t happen until at least partway through the beating.

Of the two kitchen doors, it was the closer one that Master came in through, and it took every ounce of willpower Lilah had to not throw up again. Sasha’s presence left her, and while it stripped her of the physical comfort her being there gave Lilah, it gave a different comfort that Sasha had gotten out of the way in time.

Except Master Galo was talking to her first, apparently, and Lilah’s ears were ringing high and whining. She caught the tail end, though, and it was a great relief against the wall of her sheer terror to know that at least, her fuckup hadn’t taken food from the rest of the group. Master was letting Sasha eat. It was just Lilah that would stay hungry.

When she felt his hand on her back, she nearly screamed, barely able to choke it back. He was talking to her, but some words were missing.

She apologized. She tried to obey. She tried to understand what kind of mindgame it was, that he was still comforting her, and not hurting her, but it was hard just to think, right then, much less puzzle out where the trap was going to spring from.

Then he told her to eat, and rest, and not to work, and she didn’t understand!

But an order was an order, so she ran from the kitchen, stumbled her way to their bedroom and collapsed on the floor, door ajar and bed nearby but unable to make it there. The pain in her shoulder from where she’d fallen… it wasn’t good, but it helped ground her. It made sense, when she was so scared and confused like this. She sobbed into her gloves, curled up in around herself, power bar crunching in her hand beneath its wrapper.

She sobbed for an indeterminate amount of time, and was surprised when strong arms lifted her up. But she’d recognize that scent anywhere, even if she couldn’t see straight right then.

“Evan!” she sobbed, clinging to him, and she felt more than heard him shush her, his breath warm on her ear and the side of her face.

“Easy munchkin,” Evan said, setting her down on the edge of the bed and prying off her work boots, then picking her back up and settling himself up against the headboard, Lilah in his lap. “Easy baby girl, where’s it hurt?”

“Nowhere!” she wailed, fisting a hand in her hair. “He, he didn’t punish me at all,” she hiccupped, and Evan made an angry little “tch” noise.

“What the fuck is that bastard’s game?!” he asked quietly, mouth muffled in her hair, and his arms wrapped around her so tight and safe, nosing against the top of her head, and she wiped at her eyes.

“Sh-shouldn’t call him a bastard, Ev,” Lilah reminded, her crying finally winding down.

“Yeah, well, he should act like a normal person,” Evan grumbled, gently tugging off her glove, and then prying her fingers out of the energy bar in her other hand, one arm around her at all times. “C’mon, lil lady, he ordered us to eat.”

“I shouldn’t be,” Lilah grumbled miserably as Evan tugged off her other glove, then shoved his (undamaged) power bar into her hands. “If anything made sense anymore, I wouldn’t be.”

“Yeah, well, the dude’s confusing as all hell and the rules are different now. At least he’s done fuckin’ starving us.” Evan ripped open his own (Lilah’s) power bar and picked up one of the chunks, tossing it into his mouth. “For now.”

“I think… he just wanted to prove he could?” Lilah said hesitantly, nibbling on hers so she wouldn’t vomit again. “He asked a lot of strange questions, when I was showing him the flower arrangements.”

“All his questions are strange.”

“Stranger than usual,” Lilah insisted, and Evan pressed a kiss to the top of her hair.

“I believe you, baby girl.”

“Thanks, baby boy.”

“Hey,” he said, giving a lock of her hair a playful tug, “Who are you calling baby? I’m an adult man, thank you very much.”

“And I’m an adult woman, your point?”

Because, technically, Lilah hadn’t been lying to Master Galo in the garden. She was eighteen--probably. Somewhere around there, at the very least. She didn’t know when her birthday was exactly, and she never had any reason to know what day or month it was, but she knew she had been born sometime in this season. So. Eighteen, plus or minus maybe a month or two.

“Noooo, you’re like, ten.”

“Jackass,” she said quietly, knowing fully well that she was saying a forbidden word.

“Baby girl. Baby.”

“Dickhead,” she said with a small, wet giggle.

“Itty bitty little munchkin.”

“Bastard man.”

“Precious baby angel.” She swatted his hand when he tried to pinch her cheek. “Sweet little cherub.”

“Asshole.”

“No no no, wait, I’ve got it,” Evan said with a snap of his fingers, and Lilah tilted her head, curious, no longer crying at all. “You’re my sweet precious darling little--”

She squealed when he jerked in and blew a raspberry on her neck, barely keeping her voice down, collapsing into giggles when he let up.

“Terrible stinky man!” she said, grinning wide and shoving his face away from her with one hand, trying to wriggle out of his arms, which were very strong and holding her in place. “Awful little dirt gremlin! Nasty boy!”

He let her go, suddenly, and she landed on the bed with a quiet “oof!” He laughed at her, and tilted his head back to down the crushed up bits of his power bar, and she took a decisive bite out of hers, glaring at him. He smiled “innocently” at her and her glare narrowed, taking another bite.

“What’s up, lil lady? You look upset there.”

It might have soured the mood--her face was tearstained and ruddy, she knew--but it was Evan, so it didn’t.

“Yeah, I just have a no-brains for a best friend,” she retorted, finishing off her power bar and chucking the wrapper at him.

“Hey, stupid and beautiful are a pair of traits that are in high demand when they’re together.”

“I’ll give you that,” Lilah said, crawling back up to the headboard and flopping her head down into his lap. “I guess you’re pretty enough to give a free pass. This time.”

“I’m honored,” Evan said sarcastically, finishing off the crumbs in his wrapper and letting it drop onto her face. She blew at it.

Evan was, about half the time, Lilah’s first and so-far-only real crush. The other half the time, he was her dumb big brother who stuck things in his nostrils to make her laugh. He was her favorite person ever, not that she’d tell the others that (although, they probably knew), and she could count on him to look out for her and cheer her up.

He placed his large, warm palm on her back and stroked it gently, easy on the bruises that were still there, on the scabs and cuts and scars. She sighed contentedly and sank into his warmth, into the comfort his presence always, always provided.

“I’m supposed to rest until lunch,” she told him quietly, soothed by the familiar hand on her back, “And then I’m supposed to stay here for the rest of the day.”

“Doing what?” Evan asked, sounding uncomfortable, almost-angry like he was ready to be mad, but not sure what to be mad at yet.

“Dunno,” she said, shifting a little so she wasn’t lying on the shoulder she’d fallen onto quite as directly. “He said I’m not allowed to do any work for the rest of the day.”

Evan swallowed hard.

“He asked me how old I was, earlier, before I messed up.”

“That bastard,” Evan breathed. “After Nyla went to him, and he told her he’s not gonna fuck us, now he’s gonna--!”

“I’ll be fine, Ev,” Lilah cut him off, not wanting to rile him up. An angry Evan was a stupid-as-all-shit Evan. “You and Grey always made it out the other end. I’ll be okay.” Even if the thought was terrifying. Even if putting those particular pieces together made her want to go glass eyed and Quiet.

Evan lifted her and hugged her fiercely, and she hugged back, wrung out and exhausted, now that all her adrenaline was spent. She wished she had the ability to not-exist. Even just for a little while.

“Um, y-you two,” Sasha said, nudging the door open with her hip. Two plates were on the tray she carried, and both of them frowned in confusion.

“Sasha?”

“I’m, uh, in ch-charge of making sure e-everyone e-eats, now. M-Master changed the r-rules.”

Lilah took a plate Sasha extended to her, and so did Evan, both of them baffled. “W-we have t-to eat three t-times a day, n-now. Minimum. He said--said it was my job. A-and to feed you, if yo-you’re hungry between m-meals, too.”

Evan snarled, but it melted away into gloomy simmering pretty quick. “Guess that’s one way to see how quickly we can dance to his tune. Starve us for days then turn the rules on their heads.”

“M-maybe he’s, being nice?” Sasha suggested, sounding almost hopeful, and Evan leveled her with a flat look. Lilah subtly punched him in the thigh.

“Who knows. You go eat too, Sasha,” Lilah said, and Evan sighed when the door clicked closed.

“Can’t figure that bastard out,” he muttered, digging into the food.

When he left, he took Lilah’s plate with him, and she was left alone in the family bed, tired but unable to fall asleep in the middle of the day. So her mind went mercifully, wonderfully Quiet.

#gw #whump #disassociation #slave whump #referenced noncon #faint from hunger #vomiting from fear #aftermath of torture #multiple whumpees #slavery #mine #writing #Lilah #Galo #Nyla #Sasha #Evan

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maleficarfic · 3 years

Text

Of Unicorns, Virgins, and Other Such Things

Pairing: Female Lavellan/Solas

Fandom: Dragon Age: Inquisition

Rating: Explicit

Additional Tags: Only partially crack

Summary: A noble attempting to curry favor with the Inquisition gives Inquisitor Lavellan a unicorn. It gets in the way. A lot.

On AO3: Link

“But what is it?” the Inquisitor asked, ears flicking with annoyance as she peered at the massive white beast stomping around her courtyard, nickering nastily at everyone who wasn’t Cole. It was quite pretty, with a flowing mane and tail that shimmered like starlight. Its hooves and horn glimmered gold in the brilliant light of early afternoon.

“A gift,” Josephine said, a bit too cheerfully. “From a noble who seeks to curry your favor. It is a rare, almost mythical unicorn.”

The Inquisitor peered at it. “It doesn’t have a sword through its face like the other one.”

“Because this is a natural unicorn,” Josephine said with infinite patience.

The Inquisitor’s right ear twitched, her expression flattening. “You said mythical.”

“I said almost mythical.”

“And this from you,” Varric interjected, leaning against a wooden post and giving the Inquisitor one of those shit-eating grins. Her ears twitched again. “The woman who does at least ten impossible things before breakfast.”

She pulled her lips back and gave him a snarl. Any normal person would have seen that expression and pissed themselves, but Varric just laughed like this was all good fun. It was infuriating how she was supposed to be the most deadly person in Thedas – though, probably, the Hero of Ferelden was more so – but none of her companions seemed to treat her with the respect deadly people deserved. Actually, now that she thought about it, no one did. It was always Inquisitor, fetch this thing or Inquisitor, take this other thing to the place with the people or even Inquisitor, my wife is dying and my son knows how to cure her so please go to him but, oh, no, he won’t come back with the potion or even given you the recipe he’ll just give you the potion to bring back to me necessitating you making future trips to bolster the Inquisition’s reputation. Not that she had strong feelings about this.

“Also this unicorn is not dead.”

“Fluffy,” the Inquisitor said with sharp enunciating, “is not dead. She is respirationally challenged. More importantly, why doesn’t this one like anyone except Cole?”

Solas, who had been hovering at the edge of the courtyard with a studious expression on his face, swung toward her at the question. “Lore surrounding unicorns posits they prefer the company of virgins and will defend a virgin quite violently.”

The Inquisitor went still. Her mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. “Oh,” she finally managed.

“Indeed.” Solas slipped closer to her. “Given the unicorn’s nature, it might be best to have—”

He broke off as the unicorn, with a whiny loud enough to burst eardrums, rounded on them and charged. He threw himself to the side, snapping a barrier into place around himself, Josie, the Inquisitor, and Varric, and stumbled. He righted himself only with Josie’s help.

“Oh,” the Inquisitor said as the unicorn paced in a circle around her. She felt heat rising to her cheeks. It wasn’t that she was ashamed of being a virgin. That didn’t bother her at all. It was just that a four-legged beast with a spike growing out its head was telling everyone in Skyhold that she’d never gotten laid.

Twenty-four years old, leading one of the most powerful political forces in the world, surrounded by men and women who pretty much oozed sex appeal, and she’d never had sex.

This was her life.

She dragged a hand down her face as Varric made a noise of pure delight. “Inquisitor, he seems to like you.”

“I’m going to kill you,” she muttered.

The unicorn’s muzzle rubbed against her face. It lipped her ear. With a shriek, she bolted away from it.

“He really seems to like you!” Varric called after her as she tore across the courtyard, the unicorn prancing happily after her.

She tried hiding in the great hall. She tried hiding in the tavern. She climbed the ladder to Cullen’s Blighted bedroom and crawled under his bed – much to his sputtering horror – and the damn thing somehow managed to follow her everywhere. When she decided to go out on missions, it was waiting in the stables, somehow saddled, looking at her with huge, watery eyes that seemed to say Ride me, beautiful virgin, and she’d go red to her ears.

Passing judgments was next to impossible. The Tevinter shem who had led the Wardens astray had taken one look at the unicorn standing proudly beside her throne and dissolved into giggles. Ser Ruth, who had turned herself in around the same time the Tevinter mage was brought before her, took one look at the unicorn and started choking. Ostensibly on laughter, but the Inquisitor hoped the woman swallowed her tongue.

“You can’t follow me everywhere,” she told the damn beast as it followed her across one of the ramparts. She and Cole kept putting him in the stables. He kept escaping. Somehow.

Vivienne thought he was possessed, and Bull tended to agree, but everything was demons and despair with those two anyway.

“You need to let me do my job.” He stared at her with watery eyes. She attempted to remain unmoved. “You need a name, too.”

He pranced, hopping from hoof to hoof as if he understood. In the back of her head, she heard Solas intoning, Unicorns are widely believed to be incredibly intelligent creatures. Do your best to be polite. That horn isn’t for show.

“Pokey?” she suggested.

The unicorn gave her a look that pretty clearly said, You’re shitting me.

“Fine, fair, I agree, it was a bad idea.” She was bad at naming things, though. The other day, she’d scraped together enough lambswool to make a new set of robes for Solas, and when asked by Dagna and Harritt to give the coat some kind of identifier, she’d just said, “Sheep’s Clothing.” They’d looked at her like she’d grown two heads before declaring it Resisting Magical Something or Another.

She had told Solas about the incident. He hadn’t approved, though she couldn’t fathom why.

Tugging on one of her braids, she gave the unicorn an assessing look. “You kind of look like a Bob to me.”

He blinked at her and that blink somehow managed to convey his dripping disdain.

“Not Pokey. Not Bob.” She chewed on her lower lip, and the unicorn made a sound that might have been horsey delight. It disturbed her. Deeply. She stopped chewing on her lip. “We could go with something noble. Charger?” He shook his head. Or ruffled his mane. Or something. She took it to be a no. “Dasher? Dancer? Prancer?” She paused. “Now that’s just ridiculous. You’re not making this easy, you know.”

He shuffled up to her and rubbed his nose against her shoulder. She, meanwhile, eyed the exceptionally sharp tip of his horn as it bobbed next to her face. Tentatively, she stroked the unicorn’s neck. “What about Hanal’ghilan? You’re not a halla, but it’s a noble name.”

He whickered and caught her ear with his lips. With an indignant shriek, she tore across the parapets.

In a rare moment of unicorn-free time later that afternoon, she slipped into Solas’s room to study the murals he was painting. And possibly to snuggle up to him and make him incredibly uncomfortable. There was something to be said for flustering him, and it was so delightfully easy that even a virgin could do it.

In her defense, she wasn’t much of a virgin. The unicorn might count her as one, but she’d done more than her fair share of playing poke and tickle with some of the other youths in her clan. She’d just never gone far enough to jeopardize her position.

“Solas,” she greeted cheerfully.

His head snapped up, his eyes darting all around her. Then he relaxed. “I see you’re without your stalwart protector.”

She slipped up to him. He wasn’t painting, was standing beside his table with a book in one hand. His fingers, long and lithe and delightfully wicked, were splayed across the pages of a book that lay open on the table before him.

Dancing her fingers up his tunic, she drew closer to him. “Stolen moments are so rare,” she purred, watching with delight as his eyes widened slightly.

“Inquisitor, I—”

“You?” she asked, rising onto her toes to brush her lips against his. It wasn’t even close to a kiss, but it was enough to get her a little tingly and a lot interested in actual kissing. She wanted real kisses, the fiery, passionate, he-shoves-his-hands-in-her-hair kinds of kisses. Kisses that involved tongue, but not Fade tongue. Fade tongue only got a girl so far.

He swallowed and made a strangled sort of noise in the back of his throat. “I don’t think…”

“Oh, but you do,” she murmured. “Entirely too much.” She canted her head to the side, sliding one arm about his neck. His book tumbled to the ground as his arm went around her waist, tugging her flush against him.

Their mouths were so close, his eyes so intent and filled with burning, desperate wanting.

From above them came a mighty crash.

“Confounded creature!” Dorian shouted. He followed that shout with many more, none of them understandable, all of them Tevene.

Solas all but shoved her away from him, throwing himself at the scaffolding to the side of the room as she heaved a heavy, beleaguered sigh and Hanal’ghilan tore into the room looking like a demon. He snorted, chest heaving, head lowered, and charged straight at Solas.

His horn missed Solas’s butt – and what a tight, sexy butt it was, she thought as he scrambled up the ladder – by inches.

Hanal’ghilan skidded to a stop between her and Solas, scratching the stone floor fiercely with his hooves. He huffed, dragging one hoof over the stone as if readying to charge, and she sighed heavily. “We need to discuss personal boundaries,” she said to him, patting him on the back.

It took her and Cole promising Hana’ghilan the best oats and a stupid amount of sugar cubes to get him to leave Solas’s rotunda. It took even longer to get the unicorn back to the stables, where the Inquisitor assured him up and down that she wouldn’t go anywhere near Solas ever again and he needn’t worry about her losing her virginity in the near to immediate future. He snorted, clearly not believing her, which was pretty much the right response because that night, Solas barged into her dreams with all the subtly of a charging druffalo.

He caught her face in his hands and kissed her, and she threw her arms around his neck, wrapping her legs around his waist and forcing him to hold her. They stumbled until her back pressed against a wall, and his tongue was in her mouth, tasting her, and it was so good.

Except for the part where it wasn’t real.

“I’m going to kill that creature,” Solas growled against her mouth, working his hands under her tunic to cup her breasts. That was also good. It was better than good. Heat lanced through her, and she dragged his mouth back to hers for more kisses.

She’d done a lot of kissing in twenty four years. Well, to be fair, it wasn’t as though she’d popped out of the womb and started kissing people. Maybe it was more like twelve years, unless she counted that time she kissed Theron when she was six. It hadn’t been a good kiss. She decided not to count it.

“I’m going to kill you,” she growled back, tugging at his clothes, wondering why he bothered with them in the Fade at all.

Probably because they never got much further than kissing shirtless. He always balked at that point.

“What have I done?” he asked as he caught her lower lip in his teeth, tugging gently.

She responded by grinding her hips against his, making him gasp with pleasure and shock and, really, he should be used to her doing this like this by now. “Nothing, hahren,” she replied in a throaty murmur, and he pressed closer to her, his eyes flickering with lust. “And that’s the problem.”

She heard something crash. It was a splintery sound. Rather like what wood might sound like when it shattered. She went stiff in his arms, and he noticed immediately. “Vhenan?” he asked, drawing his hands down her sides.

“Oh, by the Dread Wolf’s hairy ball—” The Fade dream fractured as a very large something pounded up her stairs and neighed loud enough to wake the dead. She bolted upright from her nest on the floor – she still wasn’t used to the concept of shem beds – and hurled her pillow at Hanal’ghilan’s face.

It hit his horn and stuck.

As he shook his head wildly, trying to dislodge the pillow, she threw another one. “It was a dream!” she shouted, hurling a third pillow. “It was just a dream, I was dreaming, and how did you even get in here?”

In the end, her pillow went flying off Hanal’ghilan’s horn and straight out her open window. It soared over her balcony and disappeared into the snowy mountains. Hanal’ghilan had the good sense to bow his head and give her those sad, watery eyes that were almost as guilt-inducing as puppy eyes.

“I’m still mad at you,” she groused as she patted a spot next to her pile of blankets. Hanal’ghilan happily settled there, and, after a moment, she dropped a pillow on his side and curled up against him. It wasn’t so different from sleeping with a halla.

The next morning, she stumbled into the tavern for breakfast with Hanal’ghilan on her heels, and Varric, who was always obscenely cheerful at all hours, saluted her with a mug of that wonderfully bitter, disgustingly perfect drink the shems called coffee. She made grabby hands at it and he surrendered it to her. “Looks like you’ve still got your unicorn chastity belt,” he said and she dragged her hands down her face, pushing the coffee aside and leaning across the table.

“All I want,” she hissed, “is to kiss him.”

“Who, the unicorn or Chuckles?” Varric asked, waving a serving girl over for another cup of coffee.

She pinned Varric with a glare that could probably melt silverite. At the very least, it should have seared the flesh off his bones.

Varric, however, was immune to such looks. She knew this. She still tried to employ them. They always failed. “My hahren—”

“That’s what the kids are calling it these days?” He rubbed his chin. “I’ll have to remember that.”

“That,” she sputtered, “is a term of respect for an elder and not some – some—” She broke off, still sputtering.

“Some salacious pet name?” he supplied.

Dorian dropped into the seat next to her. Aside from Cole, Dorian was the only man Hanal’ghilan let touch her. “Who are we giving salacious pet names to? Can I be next?”

She dropped her head to the table with an audible thunk. “It’s bad enough everyone knows I’ve never had sex with anyone,” she complained into the wood.

“And all you want is for Solas to throw you down and have his wicked way with you, but you have one very large, very white, very horny problem,” Dorian said with far too much cheer for the time of morning.

There was a beat of silence. Then he and Varric broke into laughter so loud it probably reached the Creator’s in the Beyond. She wanted to claw their faces off, but that wasn’t what civilized Inquisitors did.

The door to the tavern banged open, and she turned her head to see a very surly Solas in the doorway. He stopped there. Saw Hanal’ghilan. Hanal’ghilan saw him.

Some kind of energy snapped between the two of them, Hanal’ghilan pawing at the hardwood floor as she hissed at him to behave. Solas spun about on his heel and left. With a cheerful whicker of pleasure, Hanal’ghilan nuzzled against her shoulder.

“I’m going to die a virgin,” she groaned.

“Was this even an issue before our friend showed up?” Dorian asked. He had tried to pronounce Hanal’ghilan’s name once. She had told him if he ever tried again, she would burn all his silky robes and force him to wear cotton. The horror on his face had been priceless.

“No,” she moaned, reaching blindly for her coffee.

One of them, Creators bless them, pushed the mug into her hands. She picked her face off the table and hunkered over the steaming mug, taking small sips of the still too hot drink. It was black and bitter – as bleak as her sex life. She pointed to the mug. “This coffee is my sex life.”

“Hot and steamy?” Varric asked.

“Bitter and black and awful.”

“I thought you liked coffee,” Varric said.

“I don’t. I hate it.” She drank it anyway. “It’s just a good kick in the ass in the morning so I’m awake enough to wrangle all of you. Like whiny little halla who don’t want to go in their pens.”

“We have pens now?” Dorian asked. “That’s rather deviant, Inquisitor.”

“I hate you,” she muttered, throwing back the rest of the coffee in a single gulp.

She began to plan. She went to Cole, because Cole was the only one in Skyhold other than her, apparently, who was a virgin. It was awful. It was terrible. Because of Hanal’ghilan, she knew more about the sex lives of everyone in the Inquisition that she ever wanted or needed to know. The reverse, of course, was also true, and the only one who didn’t seem to care was Cole. Everyone else teased her mercilessly.

“Still have your white shadow,” Leliana had said idly in the War Room two days ago while Hanal’ghilan had lowered his horn at Cullen and proceeded to push the Commander around the room – the Inquisitor had not wanted to consider why.

Just yesterday, Sera had gone on at some length to Blackwall about being elbow deep in circumstances. And had asked the Inquisitor how her circumstances were. They’d both howled with laughter. The Inquisitor had wanted to die.

Or to stick them with something pointy.

Hanal’ghilan was off harassing someone else, so she was planning. With Cole. Planning with Cole was more like trying to herd cats than halla. He kept wandering off in his mind, and she kept having to refocus him. She understood the drifting; they were in the tavern, and there were lots of thoughts constantly brushing up on him. “We should have gone to one of the empty towers,” she said after two hours of getting nothing done.

“I can lead him away for a while,” Cole said abruptly. “We can make crowns of flowers and give them to you when it’s done.”

Her head hit the table with an audible thunk. “Couldn’t we have come to this conclusion at least an hour and a half ago, Cole?”

“Maybe,” he said. He tilted his head to the side. “But you weren’t ready then. You are now. Don’t worry, Solas burns, too. Heated, hot, heavy hands on his—”

Squeaking, she flailed, shushing him. “That’s private, Cole!”

“But he thinks it so loud.” Cole blinked at her with those huge eyes of his. “So do you. You think about him pushing, pressing, pinning. Holding you down and—”

She sputtered, pressing her face into her hands. “Private,” she groaned. When her face stopped flaming, she lowered her hands. “Let’s do it, then. You lead him away. Do the flower thing. And I…”

“Will have and be had,” Cole supplied.

“Yes, that,” she agreed.

So Cole left, and she watched him go to the stables. She watched him lead Hanal’ghilan to the gates. She watched him lead the unicorn out. And then she ran for Solas.

He was pouring over some book she was sure was very interesting, but it couldn’t be more interesting than him bending her over something and—well. She really didn’t know where to go from there, she’d just heard Dorian talk about being bent over things. Presumably, it worked the same way as everything else, but she just didn’t know.

“Hahren,” she said breathlessly, stumbling to a halt just in front of him.

He looked up at her with interest, but not interest.

“Forgive me, but I—”

“Cole took Hanal’ghilan out of Skyhold,” she said, and there was the interest she was looking for. She held out her hand. “Come with me?”

Creators, it suddenly occurred to her that he might say no. That he might gently rebuff her. He had hinted, on more than one occasion, that she was too young for him, that it was inappropriate for him as her hahren to act on any feelings for her. She would strangle him, she decided, if he told her no.

He shot to his feet, taking her hand. “You deserve better than what is sure to be a quick tumble,” he said as she all but dragged him out of the rotunda and hauled him across the great hall.

Behind them, Varric called out, “Unicorn chastity belt, Inquisitor!”

“I’m going to stick you on a spit and roast you, Varric,” she shouted back just before she pushed open her door.

She and Solas tumbled through the door and scrambled as quickly as possible around the tower to the actual door to her room. Then they were through it, and his hands were in her hair, dragging her mouth to his as he pressed her against the side of the stairwell and kissed her. Creators, it was a kiss. His nails scraped against her scalp as his tongue swept into her mouth. It was real and visceral and it flooded her with heat.

“Bed,” he said against her mouth, and he started to draw away.

“The wall is fine,” she protested, pulling him back.

His teeth found her lip, biting and tugging, and she whimpered softly before pressing another hot kiss to his mouth. “Not for your first time,” he said.

“Solas, you could fuck me in the dirt in the woods, and it would be fine,” she snapped, thrusting her hand into his breeches to find him achingly hard.

He swore, cleverly and creatively in Elvish, as she closed her fist around him and stroked. Creators, he was big. She’d stroked boys in her clan until they spilled in her hand, but they were boys and Solas was a man, and the idea of having this part of him inside of her was turning her brain to goo. Her smalls were a mess. She was a mess.

“Fuck me here, hahren,” she breathed, squeezing his cock. He gasped, his breath fanning across her lips. “Up against the wall, just like this.” She rubbed her thumb over his tip, rolling her hips against his thigh.

“Vhenan,” he said, strangled.

“The more you protest, the more time you waste,” she pointed out, taking his hand and guiding it between her legs.

He hissed, pressing the heel of his palm against her clit, rubbing her through the fabric of her trousers, and her mind went blank. She rocked against him, grinding herself on him in a rhythm that practically had her soaking through the fabric. Words escaped her. All she could do was gasp and moan, mewling for more as she worked herself over his hand, hers still stroking him.

Yanking his hand back, he deftly unlaced her trousers. Pushed them down her hips. They caught on her boots, but that didn’t deter them. He stepped between her legs, and she lifted them, trapped as they were, around his hips. His fingers pressed against her wet cunt, one sliding easily into her, and he groaned. “I should do more for you,” he said.

“Fuck me,” she demanded, sliding the fingers of her free hand behind his head. She urged him closer, feigning a kiss, then went straight for his ear. Her lips closed around the delicately pointed tip and he snapped.

He tore at the laces of his breeches, knocking her hand aside in his efforts to free himself. She kept sucking him, pulling broken groans from him with every drag of her tongue along the shell of his ear. And then his cock was free of his pants, and he was pressing it into her, and she had to release his ear so she could let her head fall back against the stone.

“Yes, yes, yes,” she hissed, clawing at his shoulders as he worked himself inside her.

He murmured something in Elvish she couldn’t understand – he was always doing that, speaking far more of their language than any elvhen had a right to – and then he was all the way inside her. “Vhenan.” He sounded strangled.

She brought his lips to hers. “Doesn’t hurt,” she told him. “Shouldn’t it hurt?”

“Sometimes it does, sometimes it doesn’t,” he ground out, and she ground against him, rocking her hips over his. They both gasped at the same time.

“Lucky me,” she said on a soft exhale. “Now, won’t you shut up and fuck me?”

He did. Creators, he did. He wasn’t tender or gentle. He was demanding, taking what he wanted with brisk thrusts that had her moaning his name every time he pushed into her. One hand curved around her ass to support her, to give her more leverage, while the other worked between their bodies to stroke her clit.

That was a revelation. Having a man inside her as he played with her? She could hardly breathe for how good it felt. Some demented part of her thought it felt so good in part because it was petty revenge on an obnoxious unicorn, too.

Then she was lost to thought, drowning in the feel of him. He made her cry out, made her quiver and shake in his arms, until finally, finally, her body clenched around his cock. It was the strangest, most delightful sensation she’d ever experienced, the orgasm somehow more intense for having him inside her. She swore – something about the Dread Wolf’s balls – and Solas swore – something about Mythal’s tits – and then he was coming, too, with jerky, abbreviated thrusts and a look of ecstasy on his face.

They slumped against each other, gasping.

“Vhenan,” he began, but she cut him off with bright, wicked laughter, peppering his face with kisses.

“Finally,” she crowed, laughing, kissing him, wrapping her arms tight around his shoulders and just hugging him. “Finally, finally, finally!” She pulled back, eyes widening with delight. “You know what this means?”

“I’m damned for all eternity for despoiling you?” he asked mildly.

She knew her expression was demented from the way his brows rose slowly. “That Blighted unicorn is going to hate me now!”

An hour or so later, Hanal’ghilan came screaming into the great hall, flowers braided into his mane. He slid to a halt before the Inquisitor’s throne, where she sat idly drinking coffee. He approached slowly, his nostrils flaring, and then recoiled from her. There was, interestingly enough, no condemnation in his eyes. Just quiet acceptance. He trotted away.

“I almost feel bad,” she said, taking a noisy sip of her coffee, as Solas drifted through the great hall toward her, a predatory look in his eyes.

At her side, Varric said, “Do you really?”

“Mmm. A little. A very little.” She sighed happily. “My sex life is still like my coffee, though.”

“Bitter and black?”

She gave him a wicked smile. “Hot and steamy.”

“More than I needed to know, Inquisitor,” he said, and he fled as Solas gained the dais.

“I believe I owe you hours of leisurely lovemaking, vhenan,” he said.

She tossed back the rest of her coffee and set the mug aside. “Let’s see if you can keep up, old man.” He did. But so did she, and it was wonderful.

#solas #solavellan #dragon age #dragon age: inquisition #fanfic #dai

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kmomof4 · 4 years

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Chosen, Protected, & Saved Ch. 2

Hello again, y’all!!! We’re back again with more of Chosen, Protected, & Saved for the @captainswanmoviemarathon!!! I had to increase the chapter count on this one. Before I even started on Saira’s suggestions, the chapter stood at 10k. So I decided to split it up. Please don’t yell at me too hard after reading this chapter! We will definitely finish the fic next week and I promise a happy ending!! I hope y'all enjoy this! Thank you so much for coming along on this ride with me!! I’d love to know what you think!!

All the love and hugs to @profdanglaisstuff and @hollyethecurious for their beta services and everything they’ve done to make this story what it is!! Thank you so much, ladies!!! *MWAH* 😘

Summary: A little boy with the Heart of the Truest Believer. Demonic forces will stop at nothing to possess it. It’s up to Killian Jones, PI to find him and save him before it’s too late.

Rating: T

Words: 6413 of 18,305 currently. Total word count will probably be around 20k by the time I’m done with the edits on the last chapter.

Tags: Inspired by The Golden Child, Kidnapping, Magic, Minor Character Death, Temporary Major Character Death, True Loves Kiss

ao3 fic link ch link Prologue on Tumblr Ch1 on Tumblr

Tag list: @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @snowbellewells @stahlop @resident-of-storybrooke @jennjenn615 @kingofmyheart14 @profdanglaisstuff @thisonesatellite @branlovestowrite @ultraluckycatnd @flslp87 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @let-it-raines @shireness-says @kymbersmith-90 @darkcolinodonorgasm @bethacaciakay @searchingwardrobes @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @aprilqueen84 @qualitycoffeethings @superchocovian @artistic-writer @donteattheappleshook @doodlelolly0910 @seriouslyhooked @tiganasummertree @lfh1226-linda @nikkiemms @xsajx @klynn-stormz @captainswanmoviemarathon @jonirobinson64 @itsfabianadocarmo

Please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed.

Under the cut, unless Tumblr ate it.

Ch. 2

Emma and Killian pushed through the wooden doors of Salisbury Cathedral, a Medieval house of worship completed in the mid-thirteenth century over Sarum, the seat of the civilization that built Stonehenge. A holy hush fell on them as they emerged into the narrow sanctuary, lined with columns and arched windows, on their way through the nave of the cathedral to the choir area that would lead below the main floor to the crypt. Saints, illuminated by the light of the full moon outside, looked down on them from the stained glass windows that lined the aisles and Emma couldn’t help but feel like they knew why they were there and approved of their quest. She couldn’t imagine that the Dark One using the cathedral as the gateway to the hiding place for his dagger was looked upon with favor by the saints and angels depicted above.

As they crossed the transept toward the choir area, a sense of foreboding settled on Emma. Looking around for the source of the sudden chill that settled on her shoulders, she stopped directly under the spire, which was also directly above their destination. It was all she could do to suppress the shiver that worked its way down her spine. Killian turned toward her.

“What is it, Swan?”

“Something’s not right here,” she replied. “I feel cold.” She rubbed her arms up and down like she was trying to warm herself up. “Like we’re being watched,” she whispered.

“Let’s get out of the open, love.” His voice lowered to a whisper as well as he came toward her and grabbed her upper arm, tugging her toward him. She looked over his shoulder in the direction he was leading her and saw the door leading down to the crypt. Looking around the deserted and dark church once more to be sure they were unobserved, they slipped through the door and descended the spiral staircase to the crypt below.

~*~*~

They emerged from the stairwell and entered a small chamber lit entirely by tall pillar candles. The atmosphere of the room pressed in on her so much that she couldn’t draw a deep breath. Dank, musty air, coupled with the dark magic permeating their surroundings and a heaviness that she couldn’t explain combined to make her footsteps heavy, each one slower than the last. Killian didn’t seem to be faring much better.

His brow furrowed as he looked around. “What is going on here? I can feel something… almost pushing... against me.”

“It’s dark magic,” she replied. “This has to be part of the protection for the dagger. I’ve never felt this kind of concentrated evil before.”

A sudden screech caught them by surprise as a sandy haired, tall and gangly boy in his late teens launched himself at them from the shadows. The atmosphere of the room left Emma completely unprepared as he ran at her with an old fashioned cutlass with some kind of black substance coating the tip. Before she could even raise her hands in defense, a blast of light blue magic hit the boy square in the chest, sending him flying into one of the columns that lined the chamber. The sickening crack of his skull on the marble made her insides turn. Her hand flew to her mouth as she valiantly tried to combat the threatened mutiny of the contents of her stomach. When her assailant remained still, she turned to Killian. The blood drained from his face, his eyes as blue as the magic she just saw and as round as the full moon in the sky. Shock didn’t begin to describe what she saw on his face.

“Wh-wh-what was that?” he stammered. “He was coming for you and I threw my arms out to try and push you out of his way and then, that…” he trailed away, his jaw still slack in amazement. “That was magic? My magic?”

Emma reined in her own consternation to focus on the grievously agitated man before her. “Yes, that was your magic,” she confirmed, speaking as soothingly as she could. She knew exactly how he felt; remembering like it was yesterday the first time her own magic had manifested and the mixed emotions of terror and relief the circumstances engendered.

It all happened in slow motion. Two year old Henry spied Regina waving at them from across the street as they walked towards Granny’s. With a screech of delight, Henry pulled away from her and ran headlong toward his second favorite person in the world. The vehicle coming towards them didn’t see him as he darted from between the parked cars on the street. There were no words for the horror and pure unadulterated fear she felt as something else rose up within her. She screamed and a blast of white shot out the tips of her fingers towards her little boy. Regina’s terrified face barely registered as her magic simultaneously stopped the oncoming SUV and sent Henry flying into her friend’s arms. Regina held him tightly as she raced across the street toward them. Trying desperately to calm her racing heart, Emma gathered Henry close, Regina releasing him the moment she joined them. Once she had her heartbeat and breathing under control, Regina proceeded to treat them to their favorite meals at Granny’s while explaining all about the existence of magic and her own apparent gifts.

She knew that Killian believed them when they told him of his own magic, but believing was one thing. Seeing or using it for the first time was something entirely different. She approached him and ran her own hands up and down his arms trying to calm him down. Unfortunately, they didn’t have the luxury of time to process what had just happened. They had to get the dagger.

“Are you okay?” she asked. “I know this is tough to see and accept the first time it happens, but we have to keep going.”

Killian shook his head, trying to cast off his stupor and bewilderment. “Yeah, I, I’m fine.”

They proceeded further into the room where they could hear echoes of a moaning type of chant. On the other end of the chamber, they could see a dark passageway, sloping even further down. As they approached, the chant grew louder. When they arrived at the doorway, Killian could discern the Latin words Unus Tenebris, The Dark One. He turned back to Emma, her own eyes wide with recognition and fear. He held his finger to his lips and crossed the threshold into the corridor. The chant got louder the further down they went until, at last, they came out into another room where six cloaked figures stood in the middle of the room facing them. The chant was low and monotonous and was really starting to grate on Killian’s nerves. Their faces could not be seen, but the tallest one in the middle stopped his chanting as the others continued. He stepped forward to confront the unexpected duo.

“Who are you and why have you come to the sanctuary of The Dark One?” he intoned.

“We have come to collect his dagger,” Killian replied, a shiver working its way down his spine at the anger and evil he could feel radiating off the presumed leader.

“And why do you need his dagger?”

Killian suddenly had an epiphany. “He has finally captured the boy with the Heart of the Truest Believer and he needs his dagger in order to carry out his plans. He has sent us to obtain it.” Killian held out his hand to the figure to show the scar the Dark One had left him.

“Very well,” he said. “You may proceed. Follow all the directions or not only will you lose the dagger, you will lose your life as well.” They nodded and stepped toward the now silent figures. They moved toward the walls of the chamber, creating a path for them to follow. As Emma and Killian moved across the room, the leader spoke again. “Only one of you may pass into the chamber of the dagger. Only one. The other must wait here.”

They came to the other door and found strange markings in the stone above the lintel. Emma recognized the lettering, but was having to concentrate to translate it.

“Take the water, but spill not a drop, lest all you desire comes to naught.”

Emma turned stunned eyes on Killian. He turned his startled and confused countenance on her as well.

“What?”

“You could read that?” she asked, incredulously.

“Well, yeah…” he trailed away, his confusion deepening. “Can’t you?”

“I recognize the symbols, but I couldn’t translate them that easily.”

“What do you mean ‘translate them’?” His eyebrows rose in question. “That’s English. Isn’t it?”

“Uh, no. It’s not. Those are druidic symbols. A deeply esoteric and magical language. Regina has only just started teaching me.”

Killian looked back up at the words that were in plain English to him. He shrugged. “That’s what it says. This must be the instruction that Regina and that guy,” he gestured behind them, “were referring to.”

“I guess so,” Emma breathed. “I’ll go.” Determination filled her eyes. “I have the most control over my magic. If anything goes wrong, I’ll be more likely to survive it.”

“Like hell you will,” he whispered urgently, not wanting the others to overhear their argument. “I’m the ‘Chosen One.’ The Protector of Henry’s heart. I’m the one who needs to go get it. I’ll be fine, love.” He waggled his eyebrows at her. “If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s surviving.”

Emma rolled her eyes at him. “But…”

“No buts, Swan,” he interrupted. “I’m going. Besides, Regina said I was the one who had to get it.” He stepped across the threshold before she could stop him. “I’ll be back soon.” He leaned back out to where she stood before him and placed a chaste kiss on her cheek before withdrawing and disappearing down into the darkness.

He descended the stairs until he came to a basin filled with water. On the lip of the basin sat a small paper dixie cup. His eyebrows rose nearly to his hairline as he tried not to laugh. Are you kidding me? He picked up the cup and filled it with the water from the basin. He moved forward until the stairs came to an end. A column that disappeared into the abyss below lay just before him. He looked around, seeing nothing else for him to step on. A ways in the distance he could see something that looked like fire. The only things between him and it, were these columns that he was apparently to use as stepping stones without spilling a drop of water.

“Easy enough,” he whispered to himself. As he took his first step, it suddenly occurred to him that maybe he should check to see how deep the chasm below him was. He fished in his pocket until he pulled out a coin and dropped it. He listened intently for the coin to hit the ground below. When twenty seconds had passed and he still hadn’t heard anything, comprehension dawned. If he fell, he wasn’t coming back. He gulped and took another step. And then another. His next step was a little too quick, and he nearly lost his balance. His other hand joined the one holding the cup in keeping it steady, his heart thundering in his ears. He took a deep breath and continued. On his next step, he caught a flash of movement off to his left. He turned and saw Emma. She was completely naked. His mouth went dry and his breathing hitched as he beheld her beauty. Her mouth hung part way open, her arms reaching for him, lips full and plump as she looked at him with longing in her eyes. He knew that what he was looking at couldn’t possibly be real, but that didn’t stop his body from reacting to the deepest longing in his heart. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t real. He wanted nothing more than to gather her in his arms, and love her as long as she’d let him. He blindly reached for her with his unoccupied hand and nearly lost his balance again. That close call told him all that he needed to know. This darkness was going to tempt him with what he desired most. And what he felt for Emma went far beyond simple desire. If he was going to survive this test, he had to keep his goal in mind. He kept moving forward, each step more difficult than the last because once he turned away, she found her voice. He could hear her breathy sighs and moans as if he really was with her, touching her, loving her. But instead of fading away in the distance as he moved forward, the sounds grew louder, as if she was right behind him. At one point, nearly at his goal, he could have sworn he felt her touch along his shoulders.

He kept his face resolutely away from her, finally making it to the where the dagger hung over leaping flames. The moment he stood before the shrine, he knew she was gone. The ghostly touch disappeared and the sounds she made were cut off as if with a knife. He took a deep breath and focused his attention on the dagger in front of him. Even if the flames weren’t leaping high enough to burn him if he reached for it, he knew the heat of the dagger itself would burn him terribly if he touched it. He thought back to the instruction.

Take the water, but spill not a drop, lest all you desire comes to naught.

If he were to pour the water over the flames, first of all, he would be technically spilling the water. And secondly, there wasn’t nearly enough water in the cup to extinguish these flames. The only thing he could think of was to drink the water. Hoping against hope that he was correct in his expectation, he lifted the cup to his lips. As he did, the flames disappeared. He nearly shouted out his victory, but at the last moment, he held his tongue. It would stand to reason that since this was the Dark One’s dagger, that he would know when someone else touched it. Especially someone who shouldn’t be. He had to get the dagger and get the hell out of here before his enemy showed up.

He reached for the dagger and grasped the hilt. It was an evil looking device. A wavy, wicked sharp edge adorned the side. The name Rumplestiltskin emblazoned on the shaft. His already galloping heartbeat increased even more as he pulled it toward him and pulled a piece of soft sheepskin out of his jacket to wrap it in. He took a deep breath and placed the wrapped dagger into his back waistband under his jacket. Finally, he turned back the way he came, heart pounding, terrified of what he might see. Of what he might have to face on the return journey. Would she still be there, ready to drag him to his death? He let out a sigh of relief when he saw that she was gone and headed back toward where he entered the chamber.

~*~*~

Killian came back into the room pale and shaking. He’d only been gone about fifteen, twenty minutes. But those minutes had to be some of the longest of her life. She could only imagine what he had seen and experienced in the chamber. It was obvious that whatever had happened in there, it affected him deeply. She extended her hand toward him to take. He looked down somewhat dazed and took it in his own.

“Did you get it?”

He looked back up at her. “Aye, lass. I have obtained the object of our desire.” His blue eyes bore into her own, swirling with fear, confusion, and something deeper that she didn’t dare name.

“Then let’s get out of here.”

~*~*~

Emma and Killian somehow made it through customs with the dagger after arriving back in the States. The only thing they could figure was that since the dagger itself was magical, it was magically shielded from anyone but magic wielders. As they exited the arrivals gate, he startled when he spied the man from his dream, the Dark One, coming toward him followed by several Boston police officers. He sauntered towards them, making a show of the gold tipped cane he carried. He was dressed differently than in his dream with a long greatcoat, in what looked like crocodile skin. Killian felt a chill run down his spine. The coat matches his smile, he thought.

“That’s the man. Killian Jones. If he doesn’t return my property, I want him arrested.”

Killian’s heart raced. He drew Emma’s attention to their adversary as his mind furiously tried to figure out how to get out of the coming confrontation. An idea came to him suddenly and he elbowed Emma, whispering to her to let him do the talking.

“Welcome home, Mr. Jones. You have something for me?” he asked, holding out his hand with a smug smile on his face.

Killian stared into the face that he had only seen in a dream. He looked at Emma, naked fear on her face, at the cops behind the Dark One, and then back at the man or demon before him. He couldn’t help the smirk that broke over his face as he anticipated playing the Dark One like a fiddle.

“I’m sorry, Rumple,” he loudly lamented, reaching for the lapels of the man before him. The Dark One stared at him, utterly taken aback. It only took a moment however, before his face grew red with extreme irritation as Killian released him and turned toward the crowded terminal. “Everyone,” he shouted, drawing the attention of all the people hurrying to catch their flights, “I should be punished. I have stolen from my brother, Rumple.” The Dark One’s jaw clenched with annoyance as Killian continued with his theatrics. Emma looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. “Officer,” he continued, pointing at the officers behind the Dark One, “It is your duty to take me in. Please,” he moved toward them holding his wrists out in front of himself, “I am ashamed of myself. I should be arrested.” He walked down the line of officers. “I should be flogged. I don’t deserve to walk among free men.”

Killian repeated his tirade until the Dark One grabbed his arm, motioning toward the officers in a placating manner. “Let me have a word with him, please.”

Killian felt himself being pulled away from the officers, so he turned his attention to Emma and raised his voice once again.

“Emma, I am a swine. You must know what kind of man I am, before we go any further in our dalliance. I am a wretch. I don’t deserve to live.” He winked at her and saw her fear and confusion morph into reluctant amusement. She shook her head as the corner of her mouth lifted in half a smile. He finally turned toward the furious Dark One before him.

“How long do you think you can keep up this miserable masquerade?” he hissed, his eyes blazing with his wrath.

“Well, until I get arrested.” He grinned cockily at him. “Or until you realize the rules of evidence in this country.” The Dark One raised his head slightly and Killian could just see a trace of unease in his eyes. He turned serious. “See, if I get arrested, they take me and put me in a jail cell. And then they take the knife, because it’s a stolen object, and they put that in a little room, and they put ‘Exhibit A,’ a little sticker that says ‘Exhibit A’ on it.” He mimed putting a sticker on something. “And the knife sits in a room and I sit in my room until the trial commences. And that can be anywhere from a month to a year. So if you get me arrested, there’s no telling when you will get your knife.” Killian broke into a wide grin at having the upper hand, thoroughly enjoying himself as he watched a vein pulse in the Dark One’s forehead. He could just imagine what the demon’s blood pressure was at this moment.

“You have no idea who I am, have you?” he sneered.

“Why, yes,” he exclaimed. “You’re my brother Rumple!” He let out an amused chuckle as the Dark One struggled to keep his rage under control. “Look, I know exactly who you are,” Killian’s eyes turned hard and his easy going smile disappeared, “Dark One.” The man before him nearly turned white in fury. Killian’s heart skipped a beat, but he plowed ahead, his own anger coming to the surface. “But, here’s the thing. I. Don’t. Care.” He punctuated each word with a poke to the demon’s chest. “I do care that you kidnapped Henry, though.”

“I could destroy you,” he snapped his fingers in the air, “just like that.”

Killian’s eyebrow raised in bored amusement. “Well, we’ll see about that.” He turned and looked back over at Emma and the officers still waiting off to the side. “Look, I am not going to be giving you this knife. And you do not want to get me arrested. And I will find Henry,” he sneered and snapped his fingers in the Dark One’s face, “just like that.” He patted the demon’s cheek. “See you soon.” He turned back toward the crowd, all smiles and held his arms out as if he wanted to embrace them all. “My brother has forgiven me! Emma, Brother Rumple has forgiven me!” He turned back to the seething Dark One and clapped him on the shoulder in an awkward embrace. “Dear Brother, thank you, thank you, thank you.” He then kissed him loudly on the cheek in a final taunt before releasing him and leading Emma into the crowd.

~*~*~

Emma and Killian found Regina in her study with a great horned owl asleep on one of the larger shelves behind her. Emma’s eyes widened immediately, recognizing Henry’s familiar.

“What’s Bubo doing here?” she asked in alarm. “Is Henry alright?”

“He got here last night,” Regina soothed. “Henry is fine. He’s being held in Boston.”

Killian felt a tug in his heart and cursed under his breath, frustrated that they were so close this afternoon when they landed and had now lost precious hours coming back to Storybrooke. It would be at least tomorrow before they could return and begin searching for the boy. A boy he had never met, but almost felt as if he was his own. A part of his own family. Emma turned to Killian and collapsed into his arms sobbing. He rubbed circles into her back trying to calm her down while whispering assurances that they would find him and he’d be just fine into her ear. She raised her tear stained face to him and grabbed him by the lapels of his jacket.

“We have to go after him.” She was frantic and her fear for her son was overriding everything else.

Killian shook his head at her, sorrow in his eyes. “Swan,” he beseeched her, “we can’t. You haven’t slept more than a few minutes at a time since we left here two days ago. You are not going to be any good to anyone in your current state. You’ve got to sleep before we go after him.” He turned helpless and pleading eyes on Regina.

Regina came around her desk and placed her hand on Emma’s shoulder. “He’s right, Emma. You are dead on your feet and you need to rest before you go after him. You still have until tomorrow evening before my protection spell on him will wear off. Bubo couldn’t tell me exactly where Henry was. He’s going to have to lead you to where he is. And he won’t be going anywhere until the sun sets. There’s also the possibility of the Dark One coming here for the dagger. You need to get some sleep while you can. I can give you a potion that will help you relax.” She waved her hand and a vial with a golden colored liquid appeared in her hand. He may have a little bit of experience with magic now, but it was still quite startling.

Emma nodded, obviously reluctant, but she could see the sense in Killian and Regina’s arguments. She took the vial from her friend and swallowed it down. She looked up into the cerulean gaze that she was rapidly falling for and saw only love and concern in his eyes. A sense of peace and calm came over her that she had never felt in all her born days. She knew that the man before her would save her son, and she also knew that he loved her and would do anything for her. She turned toward the door of Regina’s study, took his hand in her own, and led him from the room.

“Will you stay with me?” she asked, nervous in spite of herself.

Killian nodded slowly. “I’ll do anything you want, Swan,” he murmured. “I’m yours.”

She led him up the stairs to one of Regina’s guest rooms. She lay down on top of the comforter and was instantly asleep, her breath coming out in soft snores. Killian crawled up, lined himself up behind her and drew her back into his arms. He placed a kiss to the crown of her head before burying his face in her golden tresses and inhaling deeply. Who would have thought that he would fall for any woman this hard and this fast. He would follow wherever she led. To the end of the world or time.

“Goodnight, Swan,” he whispered. “I love you.”

~*~*~

It seemed like minutes since Regina had retired when something wretched her from a sound sleep. Her hand flew to her neck as she bolted upright in bed struggling to take a deep breath. Maneuvering herself off the bed and to the French doors leading to her balcony, she concentrated on steadying her breathing as her eyes swept across the expanse of her back lawn. The full moon was shining down. Shadows in between the professional landscaping of her home prevented her from seeing anyone, or anything in particular. But the oppression of dark magic lay heavy on her heart. She turned from the doors and ran to where Emma and Killian were.

The moonlight fell across the bed where they slept. They were on their sides, Emma’s back against Killian’s front, with his arms wrapped securely around her. As much as she hated to wake them, Lord knew they needed the rest, she knew that the Dark One’s arrival was imminent and they needed to be awake and ready to fight. Regina came to the side of the bed and gently shook Killian’s shoulder.

“Huh?” he mumbled, groggily. He sat up, hair sticking up in all directions, with a prodigious yawn and blinking his eyes, trying to get them to focus on his host. “What?”

“The Dark One is coming,” Regina whispered. “I can feel his dark magic pressing in on me from all sides.”

Killian’s eyes widened before he turned back to Emma and shook her awake. “Swan,” he said urgently, “Swan, you have to wake up. He’s coming.”

Emma’s eyes flew open as she sat up fully alert after just a few hours of sleep. Whatever had been in the potion Regina had given her not only helped her relax enough to sleep, but also completely refreshed her on the amount of sleep she got. Her eyes met Regina’s as she scrambled out of bed.

“We’ll go down and wait for him,” she declared. “Regina, you stay in the house and protect the dagger.”

Regina nodded as they all left the room. Emma and Killian descended the stairs with Regina on their heels.

“I could feel him in the back. I couldn’t see anything with all the shadows, but I’m sure that’s where he’ll show up.”

Emma and Killian came to the back door. They looked through the transoms, trying to catch a glimpse of anything out of the ordinary. Emma could feel the same thing Regina described in the center of her own chest. A heaviness, almost a choking sensation, making it very difficult to breathe. She’d never been in the presence of such evil before.

Over her shoulder, she heard Killian take a sharp inhale. His arm appeared in her peripheral vision, pointing out to the yard. “There,” he whispered. As her eyes focused in the dark, she finally saw stealthy movement among the trees that lined the yard. First one figure stepped out from between the trees, then another, and another. They weren’t much more than boys. Younger than their attacker under the cathedral, but still young teens. They emerged onto the patio and watched as the boys slowly advanced. Emma raised her hands up and readied herself for battle.

Regina looked out on the yard from her vantage point in her study. Three of the Dark One’s minions stalked toward Emma and Killian. The moonlight glinted off the weapons the boys held, a dagger, a bow and arrow, and the third held a metal baseball bat. Emma held her hands at the ready, but Killian was too inexperienced, he looked equal parts bewildered and terrified. She knew enough about him to know that he wanted to help, but had no idea how to do so, especially when faced with essentially children. He would feel very reluctant to inflict any kind of harm on them, no matter that they fully intended to do as much damage as they possibly could, up to and including death, if possible.

She didn’t see any sign of her former teacher yet, but she knew that he wasn’t going to be far behind.

Emma let fly her magic at the boy readying his bow and arrow. It was enough to send him skittering to the side to avoid it. He almost looked like a marionette, all jerky movements to get out of the way of the blast. A scream like a banshee ripped out of the boy with the bat as he charged toward them before another blast sent him flying to the edge of the yard, barely missing a huge oak tree. He shook his head, trying to get his bearings when she saw him. The Dark One just under the tree line and using the shadows to get close to where Emma and Killian stood. She couldn’t warn them because of the wards and protection spells she had placed on her home when she bought it, for exactly this purpose. If her former teacher were to ever find her, her home had to be fortified against him. No magic could cross those fortifications.

Regina continued to watch as Emma used her magic against their attackers and Killian moved away from her to confront the boy with the dagger. He held his hands out to the sides in a gesture meant to confuse the lost boy. He feinted left to draw his attention, then grabbed him from the right and twisted until the boy was securely in his arms, his back to Killian’s front. The dagger was held tightly against the boy’s chest as he struggled, trying to escape.

The Dark One kept advancing toward Killian, completely bypassing Emma who was still fighting the other two boys. She turned toward Killian to see their true adversary only a few feet away from him and ready to pounce. Regina’s heart was in her throat as they both made their move at exactly the same time. The Dark One reached toward Killian’s back as Emma threw herself in between them, his hand landing in her chest instead of Killian’s as Regina was sure he intended. She could see from her vantage point the maniacal glee in the face of her former mentor as he pulled his hand out from Emma’s chest, her red heart glowing in his palm.

It had happened so fast, there was no way for her to get to the yard in time to do anything but watch as her dearest friend’s face contorted in agony. She beat the frame around the window with her clenched fists as the Dark One’s own fist closed around the delicate organ.

Regina’s screams echoed Killian’s own.

“Nooooooooooo!!!”

~*~*~

Killian released the boy in his arms as Emma bumped into him with a grunt of pain. He turned just enough to see the Dark One standing before her with a countenance of madness coloring his features. He jerked back and another pain filled gasp reached Killian’s ears. He could see something red glowing in his hand. His eyes widened in horror as he realized exactly what the demon was holding. It was Emma’s heart. She had been on the other side of the yard fighting the other boys. How had she gotten here and in between the Dark One and himself?

He watched as the creature’s fist closed around the organ and squeezed. He couldn’t see Emma’s face, but the stiffness of her body and the choking sound coming from her mouth told him exactly what was happening. Killian turned around fully and caught Emma in his arms as she fell to the ground.

“Noooooooooo!!!”

Emma looked up into his tear filled eyes. He shook his head as she raised her hand to his face, tenderly touching his cheek.

“Thank you for staying with me tonight, Killian,” she whispered. “Please save Henry.”

Emma’s eyes closed and her hand dropped to her side. The tears that Killian struggled to contain finally fell, landing on her rounded cheek. Killian looked up at the demon before him, his teeth bared in a savage growl.

The Dark One opened his fist to reveal nothing but dust where Emma’s heart had just been. He waved his hand and Killian was suddenly frozen. The boys they had been fighting now surrounded their master as he sauntered behind Killian and felt for the dagger that was no longer there. His body may have been frozen, but his mouth, mercifully, was not.

“Ha!” Killian shouted in triumph. “Did you really believe that I would still have the dagger there, Crocodile? You’ve lost! I’ll find Henry before you ever discover where the dagger is.”

At that moment, Regina emerged from the house holding the dagger high. Moonlight caught the blade and nearly blinded him with the reflection.

“Leave this place, Dark One,” Regina cried out. “Leave us in peace.”

The Dark One let out an enraged hiss as he spied his former student. Regina continued to advance toward them as Killian rocked his love in his arms, his tears now flowing freely. The demon and his minions retreated until they disappeared in the trees surrounding the now silent lawn.

~*~*~

Regina lay the dagger on the patio and cast a glamour spell on it so that it couldn’t be seen before she moved toward Killian as he rocked Emma in his arms. She knelt beside him as he looked up at her. She was completely taken aback at the sorrow, despair, but also rage that swirled in his eyes. She barely had time to brace herself before she was hit with a blast of blue magic that came straight out of his heart. She felt herself flying through the air before landing near the back patio. She got to her feet as Killian’s cries again reached her ears. He wasn’t even aware of what had just happened. Her heart nearly broke in two at the profound pain she heard in his lament. He held Emma tightly and continued to rock as his grief poured from the depths of his very soul.

He had never felt such pain. It was as if the Dark One had taken his own heart and crushed it instead of hers. Hers! He had watched as her heart was taken from her body and crushed as if it were nothing! Fresh wails poured from his lips as the scene he had just witnessed played over again in his mind’s eye. Nothing he had ever experienced in his life prepared him for this. His soul was in agony, completely untethered. This woman had come into his life just three days ago, turning it upside down. In more ways than one. She’d burrowed into his heart and made a home there. And now that she was gone, his world was turned on its head yet again. How was he supposed to go on without her? Even to rescue her boy?

He continued to rock her as he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. Regina knelt at his side and placed a hand on his back. He turned his head and buried his face in her shoulder as sobs continued to wrack him. Her pajama top was soon soaked through.

“She asked me to save Henry,” he sobbed, “And I want to. Of course, I want to! But how can I leave her?”

Regina answered, “I’ve cast a preservation spell upon her, Killian. Nothing will touch her until you return. I know that you lo-” she caught herself, “care deeply for her. But her little boy is still in the clutches of that demon. The best way to honor Emma is to bring him home safely.”

Killian nodded, as he wiped his eyes with his sleeve. “You’re right. I have to go after him.” He looked up at her. “Boston, you said? He’s in Boston?”

“Yes,” she replied. She waved her hand toward the trees and Bubo glided down and landed on the ground before them. Killian looked at the creature.

“You can show me where Henry is?” he asked, addressing the bird. Wide eyes stared at him before it slowly nodded. “All right then. Lead the way.” Killian carefully placed Emma on the ground before he bent over her and kissed her on the lips, much as any Disney prince would to wake his princess. He rose and walked to his car as Bubo took to the skies. Regina waved her hand once more over her friend, transporting her to the bed she slept in earlier, waiting for Killian’s return.

~*~*~

Thank you for reading and sharing. Happy ending next chapter! I promise!

#csmm20 #chosen protected & saved #inspired by the golden child #krystal writes #art by krystal

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