#i would sell my soul for a man this beautiful i swear to God | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rcksmith · 3 years

Text

The Agreement part.2 — Kaz Brekker

Resume/Masterlist

Couple: Kaz Brekker/ Fem!Reader.

Warnings of series: Convenience/arranged marriage, swearing, mention of fight, mention of death, mention of desire, fluff, sensual, mention of post-traumatic stress.

Warnings of chapter: swearing.

Word count: 4k

A/N: I hope you guys like.💖

English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Requests are closet. Love you ❤️

— — — —

“What?!” Your exclamation came out louder than intended, and perhaps sharper than expected.

The salty sea breeze came through the window once more. The smell of salt and ocean invaded the room and for a second it felt like being in a ship's cabin at sea.

Kaz looked at you as if you were some child. Or someone deaf. But if he was swimming in acidic thoughts, he didn't say them.

"Think carefully." His voice was firm and explicit, the ones men use to convince women of something. “You want freedom, don't you? Live your life without having to fulfill a man's whims or your father's expectations. You wants to be able to snow on a ship without having a date to go back and make your own destiny. You want just needing to care what new adventure knocks on your door and what promise of wonders life awaits. It is not?"

How did he figure it out so well in such a short time? Was he too shrewd or were you too transparent?

You nodded, unable to say anything. Perhaps out of perplexity at how Kaz read you so easily. Or maybe the way he looked like an overpoweringly beautiful fallen angel in the moonlight.

“And the only way to do that is to get married.”

You frowned. “As I recall, Brekker, I came here just so I wouldn't have to get married.”

“And it's a stupid plan.” God, you wanted to kill him. “You asked me to have the Dregs take you to the harbor without your father's spies noticing. But it turns out your father's spies already know you're here.”

Your breath was lost somewhere between lungs and nose.

“Since you arrived, the noise from the Crow Club downstairs has become less shrill. And this is not typical criminal behavior. Either they have adopted good manners or someone they know they should fear has joined the Club.” Kaz sat more relaxed in the armchair behind his desk, his dark blue eyes locked on you. “I would bet on the second option.”

“So I came here for nothing?” You were starting to get angry at his beating around the bush. Because you knew it was manipulation. Brekker was laying the groundwork and you understood that.

“I did not say that. Turns out you can never get rid of your father. Not when he's a man with the purchasing power able to buy an entire country. There will always be someone who will recognize you, someone who will find you. And for the right price, the whole world is capable of being bribed. You would run away only to be chased by other spies, other people wanting the reward your father will give to whoever brings you back home.”

Very early on, you realized that Kaz Brekker was capable of crushing dreams as easily as crushing an insect. His destructive power was colossal and you saw all of your desires floating under his palm. Waiting just for him to brutally clench his fist and crush them.

But that's not what he did.

“You'll only get what you want if you follow his orders.” The breeze came through the window once more, ruffling her charcoal hair. “But if you can't defeat your enemies, change the rules of the game.”

“And is that where marriage to you comes in?”

“See it.” His body leaned very gently across the table towards you, it was a millimeter and ridiculous gesture, but it felt like him standing a breath away from you. “What you need is to get married. But marrying someone who doesn't give a damn about what you're going to do, and don’t have expectations of you. Someone who is not interested in home life, family life or Any other things you can offer other than money.”

Any other things you can offer. The night breeze this time was accompanied by an impure, almost obscene scene of the fallen angel in front of you on a bed of black duvets and caustic weather. A moment when the ends of his black hair brushed your forehead and your nose, moving back and forth as followed the rhythm of his hips and…

The sea breeze was gone, taking the obscene image with it and bringing back your common sense. For a second you wondered where that came from! You hadn't been in his presence for more than two hours and the entire compilation of what it was like Kaz Brekker, so far, had frightened you and attracted you in an absurdly dangerous way.

"And are that you came, I suppose." You hoped your voice couldn't give away your impure thoughts from seconds ago. “Do you want us to form an alliance where you receive my dowry and in return I am free from my father's demands and can do as I please with my freedom?"

“Alliance is a very strong term for what we are doing here.” He was succinct, “I would tell you to look at this as a business transaction. A marriage document is still just a piece of paper. And nothing else. Don't get carried away by sentimentalism. Things only have feelings if you want them to.”

Kaz was right, you knew that. For all your belief in true love and the many books romance novels you devoured, you still understood that a marriage could very well be seen as a business translation. It are a sad, cold way to see something so beautiful, but it still true.

“I have no interest in anything other than your dowry and you have no interest other than freedom. So what I'm proposing is something very sensible and objective. When we get married, your father will set you free, and you won't have any husband to please or any other crap. I don't want and don't expect anything from you, I don't care if you're sailing to Ravka or venturing on The Fold.”

“Do you want the money out of greed or despair?”

Kaz took a second to get a better look at you after that sneaky question. You had asked the correct question amid so many banalities and he realized that you were more cunning than you looked.

If he wanted to know your secrets, you also wanted to know his.

“A bit of both.” He was sincere.

“And what do you intend to do with my father's industries? Because you would win them too. And any misdirection could end up reducing my father's empire to nothing, and I don't want him to see the thing he loves most in ruins.”

Brekker heard the feelings in your voice. There was a hidden pang of hurt, but a lot of determination and honesty. You loved your father and understood him, even if you didn't agree with his principles. You had a fair and upright nature and were able to move mountains to get things done the way you thought was right. That was a red flag for Kaz. You were a good person. And he not.

He could never promise you things that go back to a good guy. But he could promise you honesty and justice. Kaz Brekker would never take something from someone the way it was taken from him so many years ago. He was a monster. But never in the same category as Pekka.

“I have no interest in having an empire doomed to fail.” His eyes were serious. “My motivation has always been greed. Why would I sink the company that is capable of making me such a rich man?”

He would have to be an idiot to let such a lucrative business go. And Kaz Brekker was anything but an idiot.

“Would you let me do anything I want?”

“I have no interest in what you don't or do.”

You hesitated for a second, as if remembering another detail. “My father doesn't believe in divorce, and even if he did, I would be pressured to remarry. Do you understand that we couldn't divorce?”

“I have no desire to marry again. And you might as well get other men you want without making a fuss, without your father finding out.” Always rational and objective. Without any inclination to the heart's desires. “There is no room in this world for feelings. Much less in this agreement. If you fall in love with someone you will have to be content with just relating to them, not getting married. And it seems like a small price to pay for so many benefits.”

It was the perfect plan. Did you know that. It was rational, objective and cunning. Something advantageous for both without costing too much. But why did you feel that something could go very wrong? You were a romantic person and you knew you could see things where they didn't exist. The truth was, you would have to leave your heart completely out of the picture.

Just a business transaction.

Brekker seemed to see a hint of hesitation in your eyes.

“It's very simple, Ms. Y/L/N.” That voice that gave you goose bumps hovered in front of you. “You marry me and you still have your freedom, because I don't give a damn about what you do after.”

“20 million from Kruges. Rich.” his eyes gleamed with a deep glow.

“And how do I know this isn't a trick?”

“I don't promise lies.” His firm face was serious “I won't give you happiness, Y/n. Much less love. Love doesn't exist in Kerch. But I will give you freedom, independence, a comfortable life that you are accustomed. And it seems to be much more than you have now.”

You knew you could be making a deal with the devil. Selling your soul to that man with the face of a fallen angel and the aura of Lucifer. But what choice did you have?

You couldn't go back if you sealed that deal. That man would be bound whit you, even by a piece of paper, for a lifetime. Was it worth the price? You didn't care for your father's press to want to be in the management and you had a lot more money than twenty million Kruges. What would you be missing? Your chance to marry one day whit someone you came to love? But if you came home without someone one day from now your father would marry you to a gargoyle. And the way out to flee no longer seemed a viable option.

Yes, it was worth it.

Seeming to see from the glint in your eyes that you've made a decision, Kaz Brekker, Bastard of the Barrel, reached out a leather-gloved hand toward you. His eyes sparkled with a mysterious spark, the scent of male cologne with a hint of danger lurking around the room. And for a moment, you felt a shiver go up your spine and the feeling that your life had just begun.

“Agree to marry me?” He said.

The feeling was that you were about to embark on the greatest adventure of your life. You didn't know what that little stunt with Kaz Brekker awaited you. But you would find out.

“Yes.” You took his hand in a firm, intense handshake that held a million secrets.

A satisfied, victorious smile came to his lips. And whenever Kaz gave him that expression, it felt like seeing the fallen angel that was the reason so many humans sinned. The clouds in the sky shifted, moving out of the moon's path and making the distilled rays of light shimmer more brightly. His black hair and white skin were graced with those bundles, and for a second his beauty was overwhelming.

You held your breath.

Brekker continued to say something, but you couldn't pay attention. Your heart began to race, the moonlight following in his footsteps as Kaz got up from his chair and went to fetch some papers from across the room. You couldn't tear your eyes away from him. His body was taller and thinner than you deduced when he was sitting down. Kaz had long, slender legs beneath black straight-cut pants, his chest was broad and his waist was narrow. For a second, you felt like running your hand over the contours of his body.

You shifted your attention forward abruptly. Focusing eyes on something else.

That was the curse of handsome men. They fooled women and made them daydream. With his underworld god beauty and mysterious aura with a touch of danger, Kaz Brekker was overwhelmingly attractive. And your blood reacted to that. Any woman would have reacted the same way.

“And we'll have to leave tomorrow morning…” he sat opposite you again.

“Sorry, what?”

You turned your attention to his words, not remembering half of what he said seconds ago. Kaz looked at you intently this time, squinting his eyes millimetrically, as if he was trying to guess which paths your mind had wandered in for the past two minutes.

“Your deadline is the day after tomorrow, isn't it?”

"Yes." You got back to the core of the problem once more. “The trip to my house takes a few hours. Half a day if it's raining.”

Kaz had his eyes on the papers in his hands, maybe they were maps or documents, but you didn't feel like craning your neck to see what it was. Leaning over to view the papers meant getting closer to Brekker, and two hours in his presence was enough for you to understand that nothing good would happen if you got any closer. Or maybe you didn't trust your own feelings and emotions.

“This will have to be done very discreetly.” He didn't look up from his papers. “If any rumors about our deal reach the wrong people, your father will hear about our plan. And that meant you will being forced to marry someone else, and me without my money. Does anyone know you're here because you planned to run away?”

You shook your head. “No. I didn't get to tell my friends. But now that the plan is different, I intend to tell a friend that…”

“You can't tell anyone.” Kaz lifted ocean blue eyes to you in an electrifying look that made you shiver.

“And what is supposed to say to my friends?” You felt a pang of indignation.

“That we are in love.”

This time, your breath was gone. The phrase was like pouring gasoline on an old, flammable woodpile. And you were afraid of what might be the match that would set off a fire.

Kaz noticed your reaction and was amused by it. “Just say some nonsense about falling in love with a criminal. It wouldn't be the first time a rich little girl has fallen in love with the bad guy, and I guarantee it won't be the last.”

“And you won't tell anyone about the truth too?” You wanted to change the focus you.

“I don't have to answer to anyone.”

This time you gave a smug smile and crossed your arms in an insolent gesture. “So everyone will think the infamous Kaz Brekker, Dirty Handes and Ketterdam's most dangerous gangster is in love with a rich little girl?”

Kaz narrowed his eyes at your teasing.

“It won't be the first time that the man with a bad temper and dangerous soul falls in love with the little girl. And I'm sure it won't be the last.” You said.

You were provocative, witty and stubborn. You would always hit at the same height and loved to show people that could very well play their game. Brekker unraveled this perfectly. You weren't the kind of woman who would be peaceful, serene, and calm. You wouldn't be like Inej. You would not take his orders and his taunts in silent, contained rage. You were intense. And that was a danger.

Why did he get the feeling you were so much more than he imagined?

“Let's go to your house tomorrow morning. Nine in the morning.” He changed the subject. “I'll go with you and we'll get married.”

"My father must be preparing everything by now." You sighed. “He takes his promises very seriously and I have no doubt that, when I returns, the ceremony scene will be set in the party garden.”

Partly you were relieved about it now. Planning a ceremony are intense and personal. You never really thought about getting married, but you always imagined that if one day it happened it would be the man of your dreams. And you didn't know if you would want to organize a fake wedding. There were certain things that were inevitable to keep the heart from breaking.

“Better yet, the faster the better.”

The two of you discussed some more details of the plan in the next few hours. It was agreed that Kaz would pick you up at nine from your hotel tomorrow, in an elegant hired carriage (which you obviously would be paying for) and the two of you would go to your house in Kerch. For all intents and for all people, the truth would be that the two of you were in love. It was such a typical cliché that it wouldn't be the least bit hard to believe.

And after a while, you two could already show yourself to the world as a couple who barely saw each other. Rich society was full of them: marriage with coldness and distance, where the man has his bets and lovers and the woman her travels and her jewelry. Your father would surely understand and leave you alone. After all, he had gotten a son-in-law to inherit his empire. A young son-in-law with blood for business who would make your father extremely satisfied. However, now the two of you had to look like a couple in love. And the reality of the situation was a secret that only the two of you would take with you to the tomb.

But, that night it was difficult for you to sleep. Anxiety, restlessness and fear gnawed at you like cunning mice, rolling you from side to side in bed, whispering in your ears millions of futures where everything could go wrong. Where not even Kaz Brekker's plans could free you from the clutches of one of your father's suitors.

When the clock struck seven in the morning, you jumped out of bed with unsettling, restless energy. You didn't like feeling helpless and waiting for Brekker to show up was exactly the definition of a princess in trouble. You had to do something.

- -

“What do you mean to get married?!” Jesper choked on his breakfast, and Nina nearly spit out all her orange juice.

Kaz rolled his eyes and continued sorting through the documents on the large round table. He was going to be gone for a few days at most and needed the people he trusted most to take care of business while he was gone. There were a lot of robberies to do and Kaz spent the night crafting and modifying plans for options where he wasn't involved. He had made a list of what needed to be checked at ports and what needed to be resupplied at Crow clube.

The plan was to marry you when they arrived in Kerch and return to Crow Club the next day. Kaz knew he would have to bring you, the two of you would have to stay together until your dowry was delivered to him. After that you could go on any adventure you wanted.

But dealing with the Crows was being more exasperating than Kaz could have expected.

"I didn't even know you had a girlfriend!" Wylan was in shock.

"Nobody knew!" Nina and Inej had their chins on the floor. Matthias was the only one who didn't seem to care so much.

"I didn't know the affairs of my private life were your business." Kaz didn't look up from the papers he kept in folders for the stupid ones.

"But you never said anything." Inej said.

"It was the intention."

"It's with Y/n, isn't it?" Jesper had bright eyes and a gleeful gambling smile stretched across his lips.

Kaz looked up at the boy with chocolate creamy skin, and his eyes narrowed slightly.

“She spent hours in yours office last night.”

"Oh my Santis!" Inej, Nina and Wylan exclaimed at once, eyes wide.

"The daughter of the richest man in Kerch." Wylan said.

"YOUR DOG!" Jesper clapped Kaz on the shoulder with an open palm, a loud laugh echoing and joy filling his voice.

Kaz suppressed the urge to look at the spot where Jesper had touched him. It had been years since he'd gotten over the most brutal aversion to touch, when the mere thought of getting close to someone made him tingle and dizzy with imminent fainting. At 28 years old, Kaz Brekker had proven to be greater than the demons and weaknesses that haunted him, wanting to see his downfall. A man who wanted to defeat Pekka could have no weaknesses. And he prided himself on almost have none of them.

However, offhand gestures made him look at the spot where he had been touched. The sensation brought was not unbearable or nauseating, but strange. And when the situation was skin to skin in a touch that caught him off guard, the feeling was unpleasant. Like a splinter under the skin.

It was easier with people Kaz felt comfortable with, but it wasn't something he cared about. He forced himself to overcome the most brutal aversion just to be a man without weaknesses, no chance of being defeated in a torture, no chance of being defeated by a faint. No for to touch someon.

“I thought you didn't know her in person when I warned you yesterday.” Inej tried to contain her little smile.

“It was the intention. You guys forgot the definition of secret…”

"Boss." One of the employees had entered that exclusive room. "There's someone here wanting to talk to you, Sir." He looked apprehensive.

Kaz frowned. The crow club had no movement at eight in the morning.

"Who is?"

"I think…"

"Will you please let me through!" The female voice sounded outside the room.

Jesper and the rest of the gang were wide-eyed, mouths opening in amusement and bewilderment. Kaz was catatonic. What the fucking hell were you doing there?!

"What do you mean I can't talk to your boss?!" And you continued. “I spoke to him yesterday...Don't give me these arguments, my dad tells his employees to tell people exactly that...I swear if you touch out about me again I will...”

"Fucking hell!" Kaz came out from behind the counter, crossing the living room and opening the door.

He came face to with that scene. A short girl who argued with a bouncer who was triple her height and size. Kaz knew the man was arrogant and macho, and had probably nudged your temper. He would have been amused by the scene if he wasn't abgry that you didn't follow his explicit rules.

“Ray.” Kaz glanced at the bouncer, a steady gaze that made the brute immediately back away from you.

You even gave the man an angry look before heading towards Kaz.

"What are you doing here?!" He whispered angrily.

"I couldn't wait." You wiggled your fingers, a tic of anxiety. “I could barely sleep. It was lucky I didn't show up at six in the morning.”

“That's not excuses. We have a schedule!"

“But I couldn't wait!" You whispered too. “It's visseral. I can't just sit there and wait!”

What an insufferable creature!

"Well, you'll have to learn because…!"

"What are you two whispering back there? “ Jesper's voice interrupted the discussion in whispers.

The two of you turned to the troupe standing in the doorway of the Crow room. Playful, mischievous smiles were plastered across their faces, and you felt your cheeks blush. Kaz and you looked at each other, and in that second of silent complicity, the two of you finally stepped into the roles of partners in crime.

Tagged: @aleksanderwh0r3 @thedelusionreaderbitch @hi-there-x @mell-bell @glowingatdawn @subjecta13-thefangirl @itsnotquimey @thatchampagnebitch @lamoursansfin @lostysworld @s3xymoonman @is-it-really-a-secret

#kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker x oc #kaz brekker fluff #kaz brekker imagine #kaz brekker fanfic #kaz x reader #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x y/n #kaz brekker #shadow and bone reader #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone #freddy carter x y/n #freddy carter x you #freddy carter fluffy #freddy carter imagines #freddy carter x reader #freddy carter

267 notes · View notes

dont-tempt-me-frodo · 3 years

Text

Have a Geraskier AU concept. Dunno if I’ll do anything with this but here it is:

CW: attempted rape

Geralt is a Gladiator of the Colosseum. The famous White Wolf. People travel from all over just to get a glimpse of this mighty warrior, and will pay a hefty amount for his ‘company.’

Vesemir is a very particular slave trader who takes on orphaned boys, trains them up, and sends them out to fight. His Wolves are the very best of the best. Geralt, the White Wolf is his most proudest achievement. Closely followed by Eskel the Red Wolf, and Lambert the Black Wolf. Each subjected to the harshest of training techniques. Each emerging as the strongest, unfeeling fighters. Vesemir has the emotion beat out of them until they learn to repress it. Emotion is a weakness, and by the Gods are his warriors the opposite of that.

Kaer Morhen is a villa up in the mountains with its own small arena. This is where Vesemir lives and trains his gladiators, transporting them once a month to take part in the tournaments at the Colosseum and then back again. He also enters them in smalls events, parades, sells their bodies for sex, anything really that will make him the extra coin.

At one of these smaller events, the execution of several prisoners transported back from Britain is being organised and Vesemir offers Geralt as the arenas champion.

The idea is that each slave will get a chance at earning their freedom if they can defeat the arena’s champion. Of course, they don’t stand a chance. But the fights are entertaining enough to gain crowds. And with the White Wolf as the executioner, the organisers and Vesemir stand to make a pretty penny.

Geralt fights and kills several slaves, each a trembling terrified wreck, each falling to his sword after barely lifting their own. It’s almost monotonous for him. Almost boring.

But then another slave is shoved before him. A young man with dark chestnut hair and dazzling blue eyes. The man is scared, it’s obvious in his shaking hands, but he holds himself with dignity, a look of defiance on his face and he spits at Geralt’s feet, throws his sword down and refuses to fight. He wants to die with what honour he has left, Geralt realises.

The crowd around them boo and jeer, but the young man is unwavering, meeting Geralt’s masked gaze with an admirable steadiness.

Geralt hears Vesemir shout at him to do something, so, he back hands the slave, sending him sprawling to the ground.

The noise the young man makes at the blow is almost heart wrenching, but Geralt doesn’t feel. He doesn’t.

The slave wipes his split lip on the back of his hand, then slowly pushes himself up again, resuming his determined stance, refusing to fight him.

Geralt smacks him down again.

Pick up your sword, he growls at the man, fight me.

The slave gets to his feet again, his legs shaking slightly.

I stand strong in the eyes of my god, he shouts out so that he can be heard above the clamouring crowd, I will not send him my soul tainted by the whims of yours.

Geralt sends him to the ground again, stomping on his chest to prevent him from getting up, tilting his chin back with the point of his sword.

The young man glares up at him, breathing hard, eyes blazing, unwavering, and for the first time in Geralt’s life, he falters.

There is a strength here, very different from his own, an… emotional strength. And he needs to know more.

The crowd are calling for the slaves death. Geralt looks over his shoulder to Vesemir.

His master’s expression is hard to read, but after a moment, Vesemir shakes his head and Geralt concedes, stepping away from the slave and sheathing his sword.

The crowd let their contempt at the decision known, but Geralt doesn’t bare them a second thought. He does as he is told.

The young slave is taken from before him, and Geralt spends the next few days doing nothing but think of him.

Eskel calls him a fool. Lambert mocks his soft heart. But Geralt cannot get rid of the look the young man gave him, challenging him to kill him and accepting his fate.

They return to Kaer Morhen not long after that and to Geralt’s surprise, he sees the young man among the household slaves. He looks just as wretched as he did back in the arena but is now wearing the grey tunic embroidered with the Wolf sigil associated with Vesemir’s house.

Vesemir tells Geralt that he’s assigning the slave to him personally. The young man will be at his beck and call as Geralt requires him, as well as carrying out duties around the household.

There’s a sense of pride that flows through Geralt. He himself is a slave. Owned by Vesemir. Being given a slave of his own is a huge honour, and the other Wolves would be jealous if they could feel.

Geralt quickly learns that the slave is called Jaskier and once Jaskier starts to eat properly and fill out, the more Geralt realises how beautiful he is. He doesn’t talk much, not that Geralt is all that interested in what he might have to say, but he watches Jaskier go about his duties, and wonders where that fire went. The defiance and the stubbornness. It almost seems like the young man has given up, which is hugely disappointing to Geralt for some reason.

Until, one of the Gladiators in training catches Jaskier behind the sleeping quarters and tries to rape him.

Geralt hears a commotion as he passes and head down to see what’s going on.

He sees the trainee pinning Jaskier to the wall, trying to stop him writhing about so he can get between his legs. But before Geralt can react, Jaskier twists out of his hold, grabs the knife in the trainee’s belt and stabs him through the neck. The trainee dies with a gurgle, blood bubbling on his lips and soaking into the ground. Jaskier stands over him, shaking, drops the knife, spots Geralt, his face drains of colour.

Vesemir has one rule about this kind of behaviour. His slaves’s bodies are not their own. He decides how and when and with whom they have sex. If they are caught with each other, they are severely punished. This goes for all his slaves. His household and Gladiators alike.

When Jaskier is brought before Vesemir, Geralt stands up for him, explaining what happened. Shocked at himself because what does he care? But for some reason he does, he cares about Jaskier. And by the gods he will not let him be harmed if he can help it.

Vesemir accepts Geralt’s version of events, not even giving Jaskier the chance to explain himself, and sends everyone on their way.

After that, Jaskier is a little more open to Geralt, a little warmer, engaging in conversation now and then, watching him with furtive looks and curiosity.

Geralt learns about his life before the Romans took him. His family. His home. His love of music.

All Geralt has ever known is the arena, but Jaskier makes him long for a life outside the Colosseum walls. Makes him long for freedom.

Very slowly his walls come down and the emotion he has been repressing for years creeps back in and he realises that he’s fallen in love with Jaskier. And he promises himself that he’s going to get Jaskier out of here, take him somewhere safe where no one will hurt him ever again. Give him the life he deserves, the life that was taken away from him. By the gods he swears it, he will set Jaskier free. Even if it kills him.

#geraskier #jaskier #geralt of rivia #geralt #geraskier fanfic #netflix the witcher #the witcher #vesemir #eskel #lambert #witcher au #my writing #henry cavill #joey batey #gladiator

120 notes · View notes

mrsalwayswrite · 3 years

Text

Magic and Firelight (Ivar x reader)

Oh God. you know how I said I never write smut....apparently I lied. I blame this entire thing on @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom and @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie for encouraging this. All. Their. Faults.

This one-shot was inspired by the moodboard created by the ever-lovely @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom for a challenge. In the challenge she had to use Ivar, MagicAU and Licking....so I made sure to incorporate those themes into this written one-shot.

Also this does not fit anywhere in the Vikings timeline because I want everyone alive and marginally happy, ok? So everyone lives in Kattegat but think season 5a Ivar.

Warnings: SMUT, unexpected feels, like one swear word.

Words: 4200

Tag List: @youbloodymadgenius @evelynshelby @pomegranates-and-blood

reminder: not my moodboard. this entire, glorious thing belongs to @alexhandersen-marcoilsoe-fandom who was kind enough to let me use it.

Revelry filled the air, coating everything in the Great Hall like a fresh snowfall. The feast was well underway. The smell of roasted meat and ale rose steadily into the air, along with the laughter and cheers of those still in attendance. A contest of strength just finished, the loser ending up with blood dripping from his nose, tainting his teeth, as he laughed uproariously.

A joyous shout shot through the hall. The signal of the next form of entertainment. Fists pounded on the tables in delight, a few exclamations arising amongst the sound. All noise ceased when a slow drumbeat began, like the echo of a steady heart. It sunk into the skin, traveling to the chest until one's heartbeat matched in echo.

Ivar shifted in his seat near the base of the thrones. They both sat empty behind him, his mother having retired long ago, and Ragnar at a nearby table with Floki and a few others, laughing with a flushed face and ale horn in hand. Glancing around his table, he could see the wild excitement in his brothers' eyes…. for they all knew what came next.

As the drumbeat started to increase, the first of the swirling dancers emerged. Their bodies covered in thin fabric that teased as much as it covered, leaving one longing for a glimpse only to be denied as she continued her provocative movements. The six beautiful women moved through the tables like swans gliding through water, each step, each sway of their hips graceful and in tune with the beat.

"Who are they?" Ivar asked gruffly. These women were not the normal entertainment at a feast. Nor did he did not recognize any of them.

"They came with a trader from the Mediterranean." Ubbe answered, never removing his eyes from the dancers. "He petitioned with father yesterday to allow them the chance to entertain us in the way of their people…. or something along those lines."

"Remind me to ask that trader where they are specifically from, because I know where I am going to explore next." Hvitserk stated with a smirk.

Ubbe bumped shoulders with Hvitserk, an unspoken agreement in the action.

Ivar rolled his eyes at their antics and turned his gaze back to the dancers…. Only to freeze when one locked eyes with him.

She stood across the fire, the flames appeared to lick and dance upon her skin. Every curve, each dip of her luxurious body highlighted in the flickering light. Her hair hung long, swaying with each movement, its own form of enticement. It was those eyes though, that held him spellbound to her. Large, luminous orbs that seemed to peer into his soul, that stole the very breath from his lungs. All he could do was stare as she danced. Each movement was pure elegance and seduction. The whole time those mesmerizing eyes kept him spellbound, oblivious to all but her. With her eyes locked on him, it felt she danced only for him. Each twirl of her body, each shake of her barely clad hips, her hands tracing patterns in the air, it all felt like a dance to entrance him. To maintain his attention. To rile up his blood and desire for her. To make him yearn for her with his whole body and soul.

When she finally released him from her gaze to spin away, he gasped in a lungful of air. Not realizing until now how he had forgotten to breathe while watching her, so enthralled by her, even air became unnecessary.

"You alright, Ivar?"

The raven-haired Ragnarsson looked at Hvitserk, noticing the smile that teased the corners of his mouth.

"This is the closest he's seen a naked woman besides Margrethe and we all know how that went." Sigurd snarked, bringing his cup of ale to his lips.

"Shut up before I rip your tongue out and feed it to the flames." He snarled at his curly-haired brother. Fury stirred in the hollow of his chest like a wild animal threatening to tear apart its cage.

Ubbe smacked the table. "Enough. Both of you."

The table quieted as their focus returned to the dancers. Eyes searching the hall, a slow-growing panic simmered in Ivar's gut as he could not see her. The other five dancers spun and twirled about, their bodies an example of art in motion.

Without warning, the gentle touch of a hand on his shoulder caused his head to whip to the side, ready to demand blood from the one with the audacity to touch him…. Only to be met with those eyes that made him flustered and hot all over.

With her touches tender, she trailed her hand from his shoulder up his neck to cup the side of his face. Even if the need arose, he would be unable to remove himself from her sensual touch and her penetrating gaze, bewitched by her to remain still. Never before had he felt so exposed to someone. Even the times when he broke bones and had to be carried like a child, humiliation ripping into his skin. Now he felt undone as she beheld him, consumed by her with just a look. If the other dancers were art, then she, this divine beauty beside him, was a masterpiece, crafted by the gods themselves.

Waves of jealousy rolled off his brothers, crashing against him like stormy waves on a beach but for once, he did not care. His eyes stayed glued to her, hypnotized by her very presence.

Suddenly he found himself facing her, unable to remember when he turned away from the table. She stood between his brace-clad legs, gazing down at him. Her fingers traced over his cheek, only to land at his mouth. Her thumb rubbed his bottom lip, encouraging his lips to part. Unable to resist her, he obliged, lips parting slightly. She made no further move, either to draw away or closer. His heart beat rapidly with excitement and mischief. A streak of wicked intent made his lips curl slightly, giving him away. His leather-bound hands reached out for her thighs; the soft skin almost foreign beneath his calloused-hardened fingers. In the same instant, he nipped at her thumb, still lingering on his bottom lip. Then he waited for her reaction with an impish smirk.

She chuckled, a sultry, honeyed sound that flowed straight to his useless cock and made him shiver in delight.

Never removing her eyes from his, she reached down to grab one of his hands on her exposed thighs. Then torturously slow, she guided it up the contours of her body, his hand caressing her hip, up her stomach and between her full breasts until his hand was at her mouth. Without waiting, she encouraged two of his fingers within. As her tongue swiped and sucked on his fingers like they were a tasty treat, Ivar lost all ability to think or resist. His hand still on her, gripped her thigh to ground himself, to confirm this was not a dream.

Women never paid attention to him, never looked at him with lust. After the latest raid in England where he proved his prowess in strategy and as a warrior, less women looked at him with disgust.

But never this.

Never had one put him under a spell that made him want to sell his soul to possess her. Never had he seen desire darken a woman's eyes as they beheld him. Never had his own body and mind reacted with such a carnal, animalistic instinct.

He pulled his fingers from her mouth and dropped his hand to curl around her throat with just the slightest pressure. "Are you a thrall?"

"No." She answered in a breathy tone, that only intensified his growing lust. Then she leaned closer, her lips brushing his ear, those barely contained breasts almost in his face. "Do with me what you want, Ivar the Boneless. I am yours tonight."

Whatever previous desire bubbled in his veins exploded at hearing her alluring whisper. A guttural groan lodged in his throat. The hunger for her reached an all-consuming, feverish pitch. Without a word, he pushed himself to his feet, slipping the crutch under his arm. "Come."

He half expected her to laugh and walk away but instead, she traced a hand down the tunic over his torso with a purr of pleasure. Then when she looked up at him coyly once more, he was halfway to throwing her onto the table behind him to ravish her right there.

She silently followed him back to his room. The whole walk his mind raged, both in desire and fear. He knew he could not pleasure her as a man but this ethereal creature that followed him deserved to be worshipped. And she had chosen him tonight. Out of all those in the hall, including his brothers…. she chose him.

He vowed to make sure she did not regret it.

He dismissed his personal thrall as they walked in, pleased to see the fire lit in the small hearth and furs laid out before it. The door closed, echoing in the room. Once alone, he moved over to sit on a nearby stool, leaning his crutch on the wall behind him.

She watched the fire, standing in the middle of his room. Her clothing appeared almost translucent in this light, a way of directing and guiding the eye along her perfect body.

"Take off your clothes." He commanded in a husky tone.

With a seductive wink back at him, she tugged on the few ties keeping the minimal clothing on her flawless body. In a moment, everything pooled at her feet….and he damn near swallowed his tongue. Bare before him, he was convinced there was nothing more stunning, more gorgeous than her. She put every sunset to shame, every spring flower, every star to grace the night sky, nothing could ever compare to her.

"Dance for me, my beauty."

A beguiling smile on her lips, she watched him for a moment. Then she began to move. A slow sway of her hips, hands trailing up her body to rise above her head.

There was no force that could tear his gaze away from her. When she danced in the Great Hall, he had been memorized…. but now, it would be sinful to remove his eyes from her graceful form. The circular motion of her hips, her hands tracing the curves of her body, the heavy-lidded eyes that watched him. He wanted nothing more than to sit at her feet for eternity and watch her dance. To worship at her altar and bestow her with gifts from the Aesir.

Then she began to spin slowly, allowing him to see all of her, a music leading her that only she was aware of. At one point, she squatted down and slowly rose, only to snap her hips up in a way that made him audibly growl. His hands were clenched in his lap, desperate to touch her, to replace her hands with his as they caressed her body.

Finally he could stand it no longer, this enchanting, sensual dance that made his blood boil ceaselessly with desire.

He swallowed thickly, mouth dry. "Go by the fire." He demanded.

If she was confused by his command, she said nothing. Turning around she sashayed over to the furs laid in front of the small hearth in his room. His eyes greedily drunk in the curves of her body as she moved. She laid down on the pile of furs before the hearth, unashamed in her nudity. With the colors of the flames and shadows painted across her body, she appeared ethereal. Something only for the gods to view. Perfection at its purest form.

Sitting on the stool, he quickly worked the straps of his braces, never taking his eyes off her. Unwilling to miss her glory for even a moment. She laid on her side, gaze on him. One hand propped her head up while the other skimmed those curves highlighted by the flames.

Once freed, he crawled over to her like the predator he was. Hunger and domination with each placement of his hands and shift of his shoulders. There was no doubt who was in control. His fierce gaze never removed from her, keeping her pinned with the same strength as if ropes held her down. As he approached, she silently rolled onto her back, an intensity in those eyes as they watched him and a kittenish smile on her lips. With that, he crawled up her body until he hovered over her, blanketing her perfect form. Then he waited. Staring down at her, he was shocked once again that she chose him. That she currently lay beneath, pliant to his touch and commands. It was a powerful and dark sensation. To have this control, this power over her….to have her at his mercy. A more rapturous feeling than killing Christian priests or obliterating any army.

"Ivar…." She sighed out, tracing the line of his jaw with her finger. "Don't keep me waiting."

A crooked grin grew on his face. Here lay this Valkyrie, this goddess, this divine creature beneath him, begging for him. Without wasting a moment, his mouth descended on her skin, his arms holding himself just above her. He placed open-mouth kisses along her chest, loving the soft sounds of pleasure it drew from her. His tongue traced the curve of her breasts, paying special attention to the tattoo of a flower between them. Suddenly he drew one of her nipples into his mouth, causing her back to arch. Her hand flew up to grip his braids, as he sucked and licked the bud until it was hard and peaked, then he switched to the other side to repeat his ministrations.

"Ivar…." She moaned, tugging on his braids, hips rolling beneath them.

"Shhhh…. soon." He nipped at the side of her breast, pleased with the heat that flared in her eyes. "We go at my pace…. and I plan on taking my time."

Slowly he slithered his way down her body, his tongue leading the way over her soft skin. There was nowhere he did not worship with his mouth, nowhere safe that his tongue did not covetously explore. By the time he was done with her, his mouth and tongue intimately knew every inch of her and the erotic sounds those spots drew from her lips. With a long swipe of his tongue starting at her sternum, he trailed it down between her breasts to her belly only to end at the top of her womanhood.

He glanced up from between her legs, the scent of her arousal a beacon for him to follow. She laid there, bathed in flames, coated in his saliva, chest rising and falling like the waves of the seas, with her eyes closed and mouth partly open. Never had he witnessed anything more magnificent.

"Still with me, my beauty?"

Her eyes fluttered open to peek at him, a tantalizing smile on her lips. "Always."

With that, he dove into her. His mouth feasted on the juices coming from her womanhood. It was nothing like he expected. She tasted sweeter than honey, stronger than ale. He continued to lap and lick her, wanting more, needing more of her taste. For he swore, this was the nectar of the gods. A sweet ambrosia not meant for mortal men.

Her cries of pleasure doubled his resolve to ravish her with his tongue. To bring her such pleasure that she would always remember him. He flicked at her clit with his tongue, watching her keen to the ceiling above. Her hips rolled as he sucked at her folds with reckless abandon.

Each mewl and cry from her mouth, made him feel like a god. Each chanting of his name seemed to strengthen his body to continue. Even as he laid on the floor, propped up on his elbows, her legs over his shoulders, he felt no pain. As if her ecstasy flowed back into him. Instead of the constant ache of pain from his legs that clawed at his mind ceaselessly, for once it was silenced. All he was aware of…. was her. As if she invaded his body and possessed his mind.

If he was to die now, with her cries of pleasure filling his ears, he knew Odin would still allow him into Valhalla. For to bring this celestial being pleasure must be akin to the glory of battle. His blood roared in his ears, forcing him to continue, desperate for more. Her taste on his tongue was a craving he never knew he had until now. In the cradle of her thighs was his new favorite place to exist.

When she peaked, when her pleasure overwhelmed her and his name was screamed into the very heavens above, he greedily ate away at her, drinking everything down and still yearning for more. He licked at her womanhood through the aftershocks, her taste and scent all his senses wanted to know.

Once satisfied, he peered up at her, expecting to see her blissed-out, eyes closed and immobile. Instead what he witnessed made him freeze, unable to move.

She observed him with eyes that glowed like two full moons on the darkest of nights.

Where once he had been the predator, intent on devouring her, adamant to possess her…. now he understood. He was the prey. He was the one caught in the spider's web. He was the one now owned by her alone. Those glowing eyes entranced him, preventing him from looking away, sealing his mouth shut to call out. Unable to do anything but gawk at her in a bewildered, longing awe.

Slowly she leaned up, staring at him. He could not remember moving. All his mind could fathom were those eyes…. those glowing orbs that he swore had seen Valhalla, that galaxies swirled amidst, that stole his soul and branded her mark on him. When he next blinked, he was sitting, with her straddling his lap, in all her exquisite, naked glory. Her eyes beheld him with softness, her hands a gentle weight on his shoulders, even her bare breasts pressed against his chest, all of it alluded a power that could only be answered with reverence.

"Who…. are you?" He stuttered out.

She smiled; a captivating thing that made him want to worship her again but also sink his teeth into her bottom lip. "I have been called many things throughout my life. But tonight, those names do not matter. Tonight, I am simply y/n…. Tonight, I am here for you."

"Y/n?"

She purred as if the name stoked a fire within her. "Yes, my valiant warrior." Her hand tangled in his braids again, almost guiding his head to the side as her plump lips skimmed his jawline. "I have heard your prayers, seen your cries. I cannot give you your legs but I will give you what I can."

A quake raced up his spine. "What?"

"Shhhh…. surrender to me."

Hesitantly, she pressed her lips to his, as if giving him time to pull away. Instead, he felt a jolt shoot through him. He groaned, opening his mouth, allowing her to take control. He had thought her taste as he lapped greedily at her core was ambrosia, but her mouth…. oh, the taste of her mouth was both death and life combined. Something so intoxicating and potent, it stole the very breath from his lungs while a vitality bleed into his veins simultaneously. Her mouth held him prisoner, a melding of their lips and tongues that scorched him in every way deliciously possible.

"Do you feel it?" She whispered, before delving into his mouth again with an even greater need.

And he did. By this point, his legs should be screaming at him, especially with her weight on his thighs. Instead there was no pain, no ache. Only blissful tingles danced on his nerves and a fire stirred in his belly.

He wrenched his mouth from hers, eyes wide and panting as he gawked at her.

"I cannot heal you," she quietly said, eyes still glowing, "but I can take some of your pain in exchange for the pleasure you gave me."

Unexpected tears welled in his eyes. Pain, his constant companion since birth, now was barely a blip on his mental radar. He dropped his head to her chest, overwhelmed by the lessened pain and bliss coursing through his veins. As he thought about it, as he feasted on her, every lick, every caress of his tongue against her, pain drained from his body like slow droplets of water. It was only now he noticed, so caught up in her exquisite taste, that he easily could become drunk on and never wish to be sober again.

She spoke against his ear, authority and power ringing in each word. "Hear my words, Ivar the Boneless. Your fame will live on for generations. You will not be forgotten, in this life or the next. This is my final gift that I give you."

She drew his face back to hers, pressing her lips to his in a fiery, desperate kiss. Her words, her touch, her taste, everything felt seared into the very marrow of his bones. A burst of white light and ecstasy flooded through him, making him wonder for a second if he died.

When he opened his eyes, mind hazy as if intoxicated, it was to find himself alone. Frantic, he looked around. Yet there was nothing to show of her presence. Not even her discarded clothes lay on the floor anymore.

"No….no, no, no." He mumbled, refusing to believe she was gone…. but there was no denying the truth. Yet even as he sat there, tears still slipping down his cheeks, he could feel her presence with the absence of pain. He could still taste her on his tongue. Strength and vitality flowed through his crippled body in ways he had never felt before.

He was unsure how long he sat there before a quick knock on his door interrupted his thoughts. It opened to reveal Hvitserk who cautiously stepped in, eyes scanning the room.

"You alright, brother?"

Ivar wondered at the stupid question then realized he must be referring to the evidence of tears still staining his cheeks. Hastily he wiped them away on his sleeve. "What are you doing here?"

"We thought we heard something…. I came to check on you." He tilted his head and scanned the room once again. "Where is she?"

Ivar turned his face to the fire, without answering. How could he explain all that just occurred without sounding mad? That a glorious being chose him, used him for her pleasure and then gave him priceless gifts. No, no one would believe that. This was a memory, a present for him alone to cherish.

"You know if you need advice with pleasuring a woman, I am more than willing to help. They do call me the love guru." Hvitserk chuckled but immediately silenced at the stony glare Ivar sent his way. "Um, right. Well, I'll head back out." He started to walk away but stopped at Ivar's call.

"Wait!" When Hvitserk turned back around, Ivar swallowed thickly then continued. "What…. what color are my eyes?"

The flaxen-haired brother moved closer. "Um, blue…. a vibrant blue…. they almost look like they are glowing but with a veil over them. I've never seen them like that before. Are you feeling alright? Do you want help getting to your bed?"

Ivar smiled longingly, his chest squeezing at his brother's words. "No….no, I feel… I feel great, Hvitty."

"Um, sure. Do you need anything?"

"No, you can go back out to the feast."

"Okay, good night, Ivar."

Ivar did not answer, only just hearing the door closing as turned back to face the dancing flames. His mind drifted to thinking about her, his beauty.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed something nestled between the furs. Carefully he maneuvered himself over to gently grab it, curiosity pushing him forward despite caution. Cradling it in his hand like a priceless treasure, he now could see what it was; a pendant, only the size of his thumb, but it was in the color and shape of a full moon and an etching that matched the tattoo of the flower between her breasts.

"Y/n." He whispered, as if prompted by something to say her name. To his surprise, the pendant glowed faintly for a moment, so reminiscent of her eyes before dulling back.

"Thank you." He slipped his necklace off with Thor's hammer and added the pendant. Once back on his neck, he lifted the pendant and kissed it, only to stifle a moan as the faintest hints of her taste tingled on his lips.

Feeling euphoric, he laid back on the pile of furs, pressing the pendant to his lips. He closed his eyes, trying to remember every moment with her. He prayed that he could see her once again, either in this life or in Valhalla. For he knew, there would never be another like her. He had no idea who or what she was, only the name she gave him. A name that would be branded upon his heart and soul for all eternity.

260 notes · View notes

babybatscreationsv2 · 3 years

Note

if you’re taking prompts;

so; tony is the devil. Or hades? Although hades isn’t technically “evil” so idk. And peter’s very literally made a deal with the devil. Only he couldn’t keep up with his end of the deal and now his soul he belongs to tony. aND THEN, tony kinda likes pities him and it turns into a beauty and the beast sorta thing where tony has his undead servants make feasts n all that sorta stuff so peter feels comfortable. And then they fall in love. And then they screw 😌

Thank you for this because I've been looking for an excuse to write a Hades and Persephone story. This ended up so tender and romantic that you can't call it smut. These beeches be making love. Also this ended up full fic sized so here's the details.

Eat the Fruit

Summary: When Peter's lover dies in an accident, he offers his soul to the God of the Underworld to save him, but when he is unable to fulfill his end of the deal he finds himself in the Underworld. Now Peter is left tending to the pomegranate grove where the only balm for his loneliness is Hades (aka Tony), a god with a prickly edge.

Rating: Explicit

"Oh, thank you, my lord!" The soul sobbed with gratitude. They bowed low again and again. One of Tony's soldiers came to lead her away so the line could continue.

You must love him to offer your soul to me this way.

Please, you are lord of the dead. If anyone has this power, it's you.

I am not cruel, Peter. I will restore your lover's soul. In return, you must stay with him in life until he dies a natural death.

I promise.

So be it.

----------

The agony of heartbreak still echoed in his mind. His mind replayed the moment as Harry told him goodbye and turned away, closing the door as he went. He wished he could try again. Despite how he had pleaded with Harry not to leave, had promised him whatever he wished, he felt that maybe there was something he could have done. Harry did not love him anymore. He left him.

And so Peter fainted... and he awoke in a vast orchard.

He sat up in the grass and looked around at the low trees each baring heavy red fruit. Pomegranates. They looked beautiful, delicious. Peter stood and brushed himself off. He looked around feeling unsure how he had gotten here. Then he remembered and a sob escaped him. Not only had he lost the love of his life, he had broken his deal with Hades. This beautiful grove must have been a part of the Underworld.

"So soon," said a voice. Peter turned to catch sight of a man. He was handsome, a bit older than Peter, with wrinkles around his eyes, yet those eyes shined with livelihood. When he last saw Hades it had been a shadow of his true form, something massive and hulking and terrible. He seemed almost kind now. He had been kind enough to him then.

"Please, Lord Hades, send me back. Let me try again."

The god plucked a fruit from a tree and examined it. "Sorry, kid. That was a one time offer. No take backs." He looked Peter over, then he placed the pomegranate in his hands. He walked past him and Peter followed along, afraid to be left alone in such a place.

"Please. I'll give you anything. Lord Hades-"

The god huffed and turned on the spot. He held up a finger. "First of all, there's no need to call me that. Hades is more of a title and I'm over it. Call me Tony."

"Tony?"

"Yeah, Tony. Now, listen up because I've got a short temper." Tony looked him in the eye. His hand held Peter's chin. "You will never leave the Underworld. Do you understand? Your soul belongs to me. You belong to me. This is where you will stay. Forever."

"Forever," Peter repeated. Not a question, but a realization. He had given everything for Harry. Everything.

The god took hold of his arm and turned him to look across the orchard. "Do you see the river there? You are never to attempt to cross it. If you try, its current will drag you under and you will drown in its waters until I see fit to retrieve you. The river Styx will not allow a soul to leave so easily."

Tony patted his shoulder. "Got it?"

Peter nodded. "I get it. Don't cross the river." It sure didn't sound fun to drown in a river until this oddly blase god decided to have mercy on him. "What happens now?"

Tony shrugged. "Tend the orchard or something. What do I care?"

Peter looked at him like he had grown a second head, which maybe he did have two heads, this probably wasn't his true form. "You let me sell my soul to you so I could just hang out?"

Tony's face shifted and Peter shrank back. His sudden anger was sharp and cold like a dagger made of ice. He encroached on Peter's space and with a clenched jaw he tried not to back away further. "Listen up, kid. You made the deal you wanted to make. You wanted to sacrifice yourself for what your heart desired and I gave you the opportunity. Life isn't the fairy tale you thought it was. Now, tend the trees and keep out of my hair."

Peter watched him go. He stared off in the direction that he went a while longer. Then cold began to seep into his bones. He sat down under a pomegranate tree. He wrapped his arms around his legs. Then he cried, wet tears staining the clothes he had died in. It could have been a lifetime that he cried, but when he finally got up he was numb.

Harry was gone and his life was over, but there was no going back. Peter turned in a circle, looking at the orchard. It was beautiful. If he had to spend the rest of eternity here it certainly wasn't the worst place to be. Sometimes when a breeze kicked up, he thought he heard screaming off in the direction he had decided to call south. There were certainly worse places to be even in the Underworld.

Peter walked to the edge of the pomegranate grove. Several feet from the edge, the ground began to slope down until it reached the edge of the Styx. A boat floated along the water. A man with a scraggly goatee and messy, curly, hair rowed along while a woman with red rimmed eyes sat in the seat. When she looked up, she looked right through him as if he were glass. A chill went through him. Once the feeling passed, he tried to wave at her, but she didn't respond. Was she in shock? Did she know yet that she was dead? Where was she being taken, he wondered. He hoped it was somewhere nice like his pomegranate grove and not the place where the screaming came from.

He kept walking, following the tree line, never passing the trees on the very edge. The orchard was vast, but not endless. On one side was the river Styx. On the next, the river Lethe. Or he assumed it was as the mist that came off of it made his head feel hazy. When he reached the third side is when the screaming grew louder. He walked faster until it grew distant again.

The fourth edge of the orchard stretched on into a garden. Peter stopped himself at the edge of the trees. He wasn't sure if he was allowed to leave the orchard or not. He hadn't been explicitly told not to. So he did.

He followed along low hedges and passed through clusters of hydrangea. Then the ground began to change from grass and plant life to cold gray stone. Peter looked back at the garden and the orchard beyond it. Was this allowed? He couldn't tend the trees without any tools. He'd need baskets if he were to collect the fruit and if they got sick he'd need medicines. He wasn't sure what else one could possibly do for trees. Perhaps Tony could tell him.

He found the god in question sitting a top a throne of slate. He looked far larger than he had before, but he still took the same form. He seemed bored, or perhaps indifferent was the word, as souls lined up at his feet. One soul grovelled on his knees.

"Please, my lord. I am meant for Elysium. I was a good man in life. An excellent one. I always gave to charity, I swear!"

Hades, for that's what he was a top this throne, waved his hand. "That does not make you special nor important by any means. You are not exceptional by any measure. To the fields with you." He snapped his fingers and two souls, each with hollow, black eyes and wrists wrapped in cuffs of slate, came forward and dragged the pleading soul away.

Another stepped forward and their plea was the same. They wished for Elysium and Hades waved them off.

"Won't you even listen to their stories?" Peter asked.

The god looked down at him. "Shouldn't you be working?"

"I wasn't sure exactly what I was meant to do."

"The trees will tell you when they need," he said, but Peter noticed that he did not wave him away as he did the pleading soul so he assumed he was allowed to stay.

The next soul pleaded not for Elysium, but for their lover. They begged to be reunited with them in Asphodel.

"It is not my job to see that lovers unite. If you are soul mates you will find one another," Tony said with a terribly bored voice.

"Please, my lord. I has been a hundred years-"

"Be grateful I do not drop you in the River Lethe before you are returned!" he snapped. "Be gone with you."

"You are too harsh," Peter said as the soul was dragged away

Tony glared down at him. "You don't have to listen to the same nonsense for eternity."

"You are a god. You should be grateful for that."

"You should be grateful I don't sick my hound on you," Tony growled. "Now go."

Peter hesitated, not wishing to be alone again, but the look on Tony's face was far from kind. With a deep frown, Peter turned and walked back to the orchard.

The trees weren't much for company. Peter walked through the boughs, lonely and with too much time to reflect. He thought about the life he had lost and all of the things he had given up. He thought about Harry. Did he regret leaving him now that he was dead? Did he miss him? He wondered if Harry would go to his funeral and if he would ever bring flowers. After a long while of wandering, he couldn't take it any longer. He made his way back to the place where the grass died and became stone.

There were no souls there now, only a massive dog which sat at the foot of the throne. It opened one big eye as Peter came near. When he didn't stop it raised its head only for Peter to realize that it had not one, but three. A growl rumbled in its throat.

"Sorry to bother you, big guy. I was just looking for the other big guy." Peter reached out a hand inviting the dog to smell it. It lowered its heads suspiciously. Then it sniffed.

"It's okay. I'm not up to any mischief, I promise. I was just lonely. You look like you might be lonely, too."

Peter smiled as the dog allowed him to pet his hairy nose. It watched him curiously as he came closer so he could scratch behind his ears.

"You're sweet aren't you?" Peter cooed. "Sweet boy."

"Peter?" Tony's voice called. He turned his head to see him coming up the path. "I wouldn't bother him if I were you."

"He seems to like me," Peter shrugged. "I was just looking for some company."

Tony stopped and looked at them both. He tucked his hands behind his back, watching silently while Peter pet the happy dog. His giant tail wagged into the gray dirt.

"You were lonely?" Tony finally asked.

"Trees aren't the best company as it turns out. I'm not used to be alone. Harry and I..." Peter took a breath. Just mentioning his name made his chest burn. "Well, we were always together."

"I see..." Tony stared off toward the orchard. "Come and see me tonight."

"Tonight?"

"Yes. It doesn't always get dark here, but night will fall in a few hours. Come back here then, but not before."

Peter looked at the man, but he didn't seem likely to divulge what he was up to. "Alright... I will see you then."

He gave the dog, Cerberus, one last pet. Then he turned away and walked back to the orchard.

As promised the sky above began to darken. Peter watched it with fascination for a moment. There were no stars in the Underworld. The sky was a deep navy, almost black. Yet, Peter could see perfectly fine. He walked back through the trees to where the ground became stone and there he found a grand table set with candles and silver platters.

"Peter, glad you could join me," Tony greeted. The look on his face was almost a smile.

"What is all this?"

"You said you were lonely so I thought we could share a meal together. If you'd like."

Peter smiled. "Of course! That sounds great."

Tony looked relived. He pulled out a chair for him. "I don't know what you like, but I had nearly everything I could think of prepared."

Peter sat down, offering his thanks as Tony pushed his seat up. He sat down on Peter's right. He flinched as Tony's dead soldiers melted from the shadows and began to serve him from the many plates and platters. When his plate and cup were full, they took a step back waiting to serve him again.

"This all looks amazing. I thought you couldn't eat the food in the Underworld."

Tony picked up his glass, the only thing in front of him. "If it is grown here, then it is true. Eating food grown in the Underworld can have undesired effects." He stared into his wine. Then he looked up and gave Peter a smile. "Eat," he said.

Every bite was divine. Sitting together with Tony helped chase the loneliness away. They talked about Peter's happy memories in life, his time in college, holidays with his Aunt May, being Uncle Peter to Gwen's twins. Harry wasn't there for most of the good parts. Peter couldn't help but find that strange. Harry had felt like such a big part of his life, but had he? Maybe the Underworld was making him forgetful.

After dinner, they stood together and watched the light return. Tony's odd little soldiers cleared everything away.

"Thank you, Peter," Tony said. He gave him a smile. Peter admired the way it made his eyes shine.

"No, thank you. That was a lovely dinner. I'm feeling a lot better, too."

"I'm glad." He paused for a moment and they stood simply looking at each other as the sky changed above them. "You're welcome to return here whenever you please."

Peter's smile widened. "Are you saying you enjoyed my company as well?"

Tony shrugged. "It's wasn't the worst dinner I've been to."

Peter rolled his eyes as he walked away. He returned to the orchard where the boughs were heavy with fruit. He spent hours, maybe days, picking the fruit and collecting it into baskets that he couldn't recalling seeing before. There was a pail and some tools as well.

He stuck to picking fruit for now. That is until his arms grew tired from reaching and legs grew tried from carrying him. He left the orchard to return to the throne. There was Hades, sat atop, looking terribly bored as he dealt with the unending line of souls.

"Please, Lord Hades-"

"Shoo," the god wave the soul away and they were dragged off. Peter went and took a seat, cross legged on the ground beside him. Tony spared him a glance.

"Come to watch the show?"

"I like being with you."

Tony stiffened, but said nothing in answer. Another soul stepped forward. A sort of gray tone clouded not only their skin, but their clothes as well. Peter wondered why he wasn't the same way. Was it because he Tony's soul, belonging to the orchard, while this soul belonged somewhere else? The souls from the Fields were all a bit gray.

"Please, Lord Hades, it has been one hundred and fifty years since my death. I wish to be united with my daughter. I walk the Fields endlessly and never find her," the soul pleaded.

Tony sighed. "Fine," he said. Peter blinked, sitting more upright. "When you return to the Fields, your daughter will await you at the gate."

"Oh, thank you, my lord!" The soul sobbed wjth gratitude. They bowed low again and again. One of Tony's soldiers came to lead her away so the line could continue.

"That was kind of you," Peter said.

Tony huffed in response, but he continued this way. Whenever a soul made, what seemed to Peter, a reasonable request Tony honored it. Souls were united with family, friends, and lovers so long as they walked the fields together. And when it was done, Tony walked with Peter back to the orchard.

They walked beneath the trees, the smell of pomegranate in the air.

"What changed your mind about the souls?"

Tony stood and examined one of the trees. He ignored Peter's question. "They seem happy with you here," he said.

"You were right. They do tell me what they need."

Tony smiled. "Of course I was." He turned and took Peter's hand. His heart fluttered. They kept walking until the Styx came into view. They watched the river pass by in silence. Then after a long while Tony said, "I have to go." Then he disappeared.

Peter turned in a circle, but the god was truly gone. He smiled to himself and turned back to watch the river pass. Tony left him feeling warm. He missed his company already, but he was glad to have had it in the first place.

He went back to his trees, tending them with a smile. Time as usual, without measure other than a weariness in his legs from standing. Then the trees began to ask for water.

It made sense. It never seemed to rain in the Underworld. Certainly trees would need water. He had a pail he could collect it in, but where would he get it from? The only water source nearby was the Styx. He looked around for Tony, but the god was not nearby. So he took it upon himself to get the water.

Peter carried his pail down to the riverside. He placed his feet carefully to keep from slipping into the water. Then he leaned out and scooped some water up with the pail. He set the full pail up on the bank, but its weight unbalanced him. His feet slid in the rocks and he was pulled under the water's surface.

While the Styx looked steady and calm, there was a current beneath its surface. It claimed him easy, dragging him under and pulling him far far away from the orchard. Peter tried to swim up, sometimes his hands breached the surface, but never his head. His lungs burned with lack of air, then with water. Then he was drowning. Drowning without dying.

There was never any telling how much time passed in the Underworld. But finally, finally... he was pulled from the river.

He vomited what felt like gallons of water, coughing the rest from his lungs. The pain faded quickly. Peter laid on his back and blinked wet eyes at the man standing over him. He was a shadow, blocking out the light above.

"Tony?" he rasped. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to fall in. The trees needed water and I slipped."

Tony knelt beside him. "I know. I saw the water pail by the river." He scooped Peter up and pulled him to his chest. Instantly, he was dry. "You're safe now."

"Thank you." Peter's body shook in fear and relief. "That was horrible."

Tony pet his hair and held him close. "Come and get me next time the trees need water. I will call the rain to water them."

Tony helped him stand. With slow steps they walked back together to the orchard. Tony seemed far more quiet than usual. Peter couldn't place just what was wrong. He'd been warned not to try to cross the river. Was he not allowed to go near it at all? Or did Tony think he had tried to leave. Why would it bother him so much if he did?

They passed under the first branches of the orchard. Without thinking, Peter plucked the first pomegranate he saw. He stopped and admired the round, red, fruit in his hands. Tony stopped and turned, looking back at him.

"I've never tasted one of these." Peter laughed softly. "All this time picking them and caring for them, but I never eat them."

"If you eat the fruit in the Underworld, you can never leave," Tony reminded him.

"You wouldn't let me leave anyway."

"Maybe I would." There was a vulnerable honesty there in his eyes. He was right, wasn't he? This time he was right. Harry had never loved him. He had been young and foolish and naive. Tony didn't just show him desire and adoration in the way that Harry had, no. From Tony he received respect, admiration, trust. Because Tony loved him, truly.

"You thought, even if it was only for a moment, that I had tried to cross the river. Were you relieved when you realized it was an accident?" Peter looked at his face. He said nothing, gave nothing away with his expression.

Peter looked at the fruit in his hand. He dug his thumbs into the skin and pulled it apart. It bled pink onto his skin. Tony watched him in silence, seeming to hold his breath. Peter examined his face searching for one last reassure that he was truly wanted. Then he brought the fruit to his lips and bit into its seeds.

It was perfectly sweet. The taste of it coated his tongue. Juice dripped down his chin. When he swallowed, it was heavy in his stomach. He dropped the fruit and looked at the god.

His gaze was adoring, worshipful.

"Allow me a taste," Tony said. He reached for him, pulling him in. Their lips met and Peter moaned at a taste that was far sweeter than the fruit.

His hands held Tony's face, staining his cheeks pink. Strong hands held his back, guiding him to press in closer until they were flush. Peter moaned as a tongue slipped over his own, exploring and claiming his mouth. He felt high on him, willing and receptive to any of Tony's desires.

They stopped, only for a moment, and gazed at each other's faces. Then Tony took him and laid him back in the soft grass beneath the trees.

Tony stripped away his clothes. Each article was removed with gentle care and hot kisses pressed to his newly exposed skin. Every inch of him felt sensitive to the softness of his lips and the scratch of his beard. When he was naked, Tony returned above him to kiss his lips again. Peter let his hands roam over his chest and found that his clothes were gone, revealing a muscular and scarred chest. Tony caught his hand, holding it above his heart.

"Do you mind?" he said. His eyes shined.

Peter shook his head. "You're beautiful, Tony," he said. Tony caught his mouth in a kiss that was ripe with need.

Peter spread his legs apart and Tony settled between them. His kiss were soft and tender as he pushed slowly inside him. His mouth captured the high pitch whined that escaped Peter's lips. Slowly he was filled until Tony was fully inside him. His hands clung to Tony's shoulders and he stared up into gleaming brown eyes.

He dragged his fingers over his skin to cup his face in both hands. "I love you," Peter whispered.

Tony's smile was joyous. "I love you, Peter."

Peter gasped, head falling back into the grass as Tony moved inside him. The friction felt so intense that he could form words but that didn't stop him from whining and babbling. Tony kissed his lips, his bared neck, his chest. His lips sucked his nipples, tongue flicking and teasing over them. Peter's nails dug into Tony's shoulders. All he could do was hold on as his cock dragged over his prostate and Tony fucked him fast and deep. Frantic, like he was starving. When his mouth returned to Peter's, he held him tight, kissing his lips as if they dripped ambrosia. He refused to let, kissing him deeply and desperately until he could hold on no longer. His nails cut scratches into Tony's back as his body ached and shivered beneath him. His cum splattered, sticky and warm on his skin.

He panted hard, looking up at Tony again with nothing but adoration and love. He held Tony's beautiful face.

"Cum in me, please," Peter begged.

"Anything you want is yours," Tony pledged.

He moved him again, cock deep inside, body screaming with sensitivity. A tear rolled down Peter's cheek and he whimpered painfully, but he was euphoric. Tony kissed away his tears. Peter tasted the salt on his lips. Then Tony moaned, holding him tight. Peter covered his face in kisses. He felt him cum, making him sticky and wet inside.

Tony's cheeks were red and his smile was bright. Peter couldn't help but smile, too, and pulled him down into a deep unending kiss.

#marvel #starker #prompt fill #hades and persephone #fluff #romance #nff

82 notes · View notes

hotdamnhunnam · 3 years

Text

Fuck Me Like You Hate Me

A/N: So here’s the first of 12 filthy imagines to be written for my 500 Followers Kinkfest Celebration!! Based on the below request for Mr. Jax Fucking Teller dishing out some super intense degradation/humiliation... 🔥

Pairing: Jax Teller x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, dirty talk, rough sex, dom!Jax, inferiority kink (super intense degradation, extreme verbal abuse/humiliation) (for what it’s worth, Jax isn’t serious about any of it, but reader is a kinky bitch and fucking begs him for it...) Request: Kinkfest request from @rebelwrites

Word Count: ~1.7k

**Please note warnings above**

Triggering content after ‘Keep reading’ cut...

***************

Jax Fucking Teller is in love with you.

Most days you can’t believe it’s true, though he spends every waking moment of his life reminding you that you’re his girl, his whole damn world. Surrounds and fucking drowns you in his love. Deep down—at least when you’re around—this badass biker is a hundred shades of soft. His touch is somehow gentle even when the sex is rough.

It’s the best sex you’ve ever had, and you can never get enough. Jax Teller is undoubtedly the world’s most perfect boyfriend, and the world’s most perfect man, full stop. And that is fucking that. Which is why you feel so ridiculously bad, about the fact that sometimes you crave something just a little... different, from the tender loving fluff.

Jax knows already that you’re into some intensely kinky stuff. He knows you love it when he fucks you like a dirty little slut, and calls you one, while he destroys your tight wet cunt.

And yet he doesn’t know the full fucking extent of what you want. Or if he does, he doesn’t dare to guess, and hides it all too well. ‘Cause it’s kinky as hell. There are no limits to the force of your desire to submit to Jax—you love and worship his perfection more than words could ever tell, and once the two of you go down that path, he’s probably terrified there won’t be any turning back.

There’s a beast inside him that he’s scared to release, to unleash to the max. But that’s the side of him that turns you on. The side you want. The darkest and most dangerous side of Jax. The savage sadist that would get off on treating a whore like a damn piece of trash.

Tonight, you decide, while he’s all set to blow your mind with yet another round of soft passionate sex... maybe you’ll ask. Maybe you’ll finally fucking beg.

***************

“God, you’re so fucking perfect...” you gush as you kneel before him in a state of submission and service, so eager to worship the thick cock that towers so tall and so proud between his sculpted legs. “So gorgeous...”

“Mmm, look who’s talkin’...” he coos, as you slowly start stroking. His bright blue eyes shining so beautifully down on you, brimming with love as he takes in the view. “Babe, you’re so fucking—”

... beautiful, no doubt. The word is halfway out his mouth, when you cut off the sentence. “Jax, can we try something... different?” you butt in, not quite in the mood for a shower of compliments. Desperately want tonight’s session to be all about worshipping your gorgeous golden god of a boyfriend. “Can you, uh—talk to me like a...”

He can tell that you’re shy. Sweeps a stray tress of hair from your lowered eyes, smiling down at you tender and soft, as your voice tapers off. “Like a what? Like a damn dirty slut?”

Just those words already get you so soaking wet it hurts. “Yeah, but...”

“You want something more than that?” he dares to ask, as he starts stripping out of his kutte, then his shirt.

“Yes, Jax,” you gasp as you shudder in thirst. Before you can even attempt to hold back, the words fly out of your shameless mouth in a sudden loud burst. “I want you to treat me like shit and degrade me like crazy. Fuck me like you hate me.”

He clenches his jaw. Takes a soul-crushing pause. All your senses go hazy and weak when he finally speaks. “Do you know what you’re asking for, baby?”

“God, yes, sir,” you desperately answer, prepared for a whole new dimension of pleasure. All set to submit to the god that is Jax Fucking Teller.

He’s naked now, flannel and leather thrown down in a heap on the ground. Though you still have his thick throbbing cock in your hands, he’s the one in command. This huge cock is his powerful scepter; he wears every lock of his beautiful, lustrous blonde hair like a crown. He’s a literal king among men. Every moment you’re with him you fall in love over and over again.

“Now I need you to know that I won’t mean a word that I say,” he states, reaching to tenderly cradle your face. “Promise me you won’t ever forget that, okay? I love you more than anything, babe. Now and always.”

“Yes—yes, Jax, I know,” you moan, shifting your head just to kiss his palm, briefly sucking his thumb, swirling your tongue all over the knucklebone. “Promise I know. I could never forget all the times you said so. This is all just a game, I’ve been trying to say... I’ve been dying to play... just a show. Just—please, Jax... want the monster inside you to fucking let go.”

From the fire that blazes in his fierce blue eyes, you just know that the beast in Jax wants this as badly as you do. He’s a kinky bitch, too, and you both know it’s true. In his view, there’s just something delicious about the contrast with how much he sincerely loves you... something so fucking twisted and sick about treating you like the exact opposite.

So he gets down to business. Not wasting a minute. Stares down at you now like a piece of meat, not even worthy of kneeling here at his feet, setting fire to every last inch of your skin with his heat. It’s everything you need. He’s just getting started and already you feel fucking finished. “Ugh, look at you. Who fucking knew? Who knew you’d want me to abuse your ass like this, you kinky little bitch? You are such a pathetic, worthless, filthy piece of shit.”

Oh fuck—the way that hits—it feels like an atomic bomb just went off on your clit. There’s nothing even touching it. You’re just sitting here gawking up at him with his big cock clutched in your fists. In one split second, Jax already has you pushing up against your fucking limits—not that you have any, with him. Never did. Never will. He’s so perfect it kills.

And now you lose your goddamn grip, spit likely dripping from your lips, losing control over your limbs, as you succumb to him, feeling him handle you like nothing, throw you down onto the bed like a rag doll or something.

“Deep down you know you never deserved me,” he wickedly taunts, setting off yet another bomb, deep in your cunt. Every word from his mouth so degrading and dirty. Drowning you in a sea of submission and inferiority. “Just a piece of shit whore. Nothing more. You mean nothing to me. You’re so fucking unworthy.”

Oh my Goddd... how is he so mind-blowingly hot...? You are no longer able to talk, which works out well as Jax settles into place, straddling your face, and then finally stuffs your mouth full of his big perfect cock.

“That’s it, slut. Suck,” he orders, embracing his role as your master, hammering his dick into your face harder, faster. “You know you would sell your whole soul for this dick. Just for one fucking lick. Because you’re just that fucking pathetic.”

He is honestly perfect... you’re so fucking wrecked...

“Remember you asked for this, bitch. Fucking begged,” he reminds you with a savage laugh that cuts your slutty soul in half. Practically strangling you between his big strong legs. “Think you deserve to breathe? Think you deserve that privilege? This big fat dick’s the only thing you’ll ever need.”

Yes, sir... please, just fucking destroy me, you silently plead.

“You know you don’t even deserve it though, you good-for-nothing slut,” he grunts, pulling his cock out of your mouth, denying you the luscious piece of meat that you will always want. “Not worthy of this perfect dick deep in your dirty throat. Or in your filthy fucking cunt. You don’t even deserve to exist, you worthless piece of shit. But you’re lucky I keep you around just for fun. Just to fuck you whenever I want, and then throw you away when I’m done.”

You have lost all control of your tongue. It’s just lolling around, hanging out of your mouth, and you don’t even care that you must look completely insane right about now. All you want is to praise him and thank him for being such a flawless god of a man, such an actual god... but you can’t. You cannot. Your mouth tries to form words but forgot fucking how.

Especially now as Jax spins you around, pins you down. Getting into position to fuck you even deeper into submission. Teasing your wet cunt for one fleeting second with his raging hard cock, and then plunging in, wrecking and fucking you like a damn dog.

He pushes your head down into the bed and soaks you in his sweat and fucks you so ferociously you’re probably dead.

Apparently dying is where it’s at, because you’ve never been so wet.

At one point Jax reaches to wrap both hands around your throat. All the while keeps reminding you, with words and actions both, of what is so painfully true: that you are nothing but a worthless slut, a good-for-nothing filthy piece of shit. That getting fucked by him is the sole reason you exist.

You never doubted it, not for a goddamn minute. But it feels so good for Jax to tell you this. To show you this. The beast inside him always wanted it; you know he did. You’re both just so twisted and sick that you can take pleasure together from this super kinky shit. And you have never felt so blessed. It’s just the motherfucking best...

By the time Jax has filled you with his white hot cum, you’ve lost count of your own orgasms. Probably close to a thousand...? At least fucking hundreds. You’re bound to need years to recover from this intense fucking, you bet...

But you really can’t wait that long, honestly. Thankfully... neither can he. Smirks sadistically down at you now as he lifts his godlike body up from the bed, letting you behold him so beautifully bare naked and beaded with sweat.

Then the words he says next... well, thank God you’re already so totally dead.

“Don’t you dare fucking move, slut. You know I ain’t done with you yet.”

***************

Okayy so I know this was FILTHY AS SHIT but I hope there are some kinky bitches out there who enjoyed it! 🤪

I am SO EXCITED for the rest of this kinkfest – see below Masterlist for all 12 requests!! As always, much love to all of my Charlie sluts! ❤️

Note: I’m running a separate tag list for this kinkfest, so let me know if you’d like to be added! (To my general tag list, kinkfest-specific tag list, or both!) ✨

– Main Masterlist

– Kinkfest Masterlist

*************************

Kinkfest Tag List – Join Here!*

*If you’re unable to use that link to join the tag list, just let me know and I’ll manually add you to it!

@itsme-autumn @rebelwrites @malethirsty @coffeequeenxx @turner-cris @innerpaperexpertcloud @est11 @magic-room @littlebennettwitchsblog @snow-white-74 @sunflower12335 @trishmarieofficial

277 notes · View notes

dancingthesambaa · 3 years

Text

The Smell Of Plum Blossom Tea Ch 5

Summary: Just like a butterfly wing, a single act of kindness can change the course of the future, it certainly did for MK as a black-furred monkey put out a hand towards him.

Rating: Teen and up

Chapter 5: By Your Side

“Next is the bag of chips, why he likes pizza flavor I will never know,” Mac muttered as he pushed his cart through the aisles.

The two teenagers in his care, at this point Mei might as well be one of his, had opted out of the grocery trip and decided to do their own thing on the other side of town. Still well perfectly within hearing distance, but he smartly decided not to eavesdrop on their conversations, he would rather not have two very creative, and vengeful, kids out to get him.

After he had grabbed the bag of chips and placed it in with all the many, many items in the cart, some of them were not even for him and the two kids as his friends tend to make themselves at home at times. He feels like he should be charging his friends for the amount of stuff he gets for them no matter how rich he may be.

‘Who even needs this many ghost peppers, 3 bundles of apples, a bag of soft sponges, industrial nail filer, and a goddamn indestructible chew ball,’ he internally ranted in his head as he went through another aisle, ‘What am I, their parent?’ They have their own damn jobs!’ He then looked through some of their teas available and his nose scrunched up as he picked up a box of passion fruit tea. “Who the fuck even likes passion fruit tea? That shit is way too sweet,” he grumbled to himself.

“Well store bought ones usually don’t have that same ‘Oomph’ as homemade ones,” a deep voice said.

“You’re telling me,” Mac agreed as he side glance at the man who was reaching for one of the teas on the top shelf as he couldn’t contain his eye twitch. ‘Okay, been in this city for gods knows how long, and in the span of less than a year I managed to find ones that are descendants or reincarnation of most of the fucking crew. What the actual fuck is this sort of luck?! I know that there are historians willing to sell their soul for even a trace of this, so what kind of fucked up luck am I getting that I just stumbled upon them.’

“Hm,” he, the overgrown beast of a demon that shared too much resemblance to Sha Wujing, titled his head to him. “Is there something the matter?” His eyes widen as he tries to look over his body and pants, “Do I have cat hair on me?! I thought I managed to clean the last of it off before I left.”

“No, no,” he waved him off, “just thought you looked familiar, that’s all.”

“Oh well in that case,” the large man shifted his basket to his other hand and stuck out his right, “my name is Sandy, it’s nice to meet a fellow tea lover.”

Macaque stared at the hand for a bit before giving a small smirk and shaking it, “Name Macaque and right back at ya big lug.”

“Personally I like the Biluochun Tea,” Sandy said as he plucked up a box of Chamomile, “but unfortunately they have yet to fully bloom in my garden so I am making do with a substitute,” he joked.

“Then how about Kuding?” Mac recommended.

“I may like the taste of bitter, but I don’t want that to be my only taste,” he admitted.

“Well I think it’s pretty good.”

“Let me take a wild guess and say that you don’t like sweet things.”

“I only tolerate for my kiddos,” he mumbled as he put the box of Junshan Yinzhen Tea, he already had a batch of Kuding growing out in the garden, so there is little point in grabbing a weak ass store brand tea that held not even the same resemblance to how it truly tastes. He tried a box out of sheer curiosity and immediately chuck that so far away, that thing that called itself Kuding tea is a disgrace to the true masterpiece.

“You have kids,” the demon piped up as he walked alongside the monkey.

“Technically one, but with the number of times she stays over, I might as well claim that hellion,” he grumbled as the two goes out of the aisle and towards the meat.

“Awww, that’s sweet,” he put his hand to his very muscular chest, “the only little ones I have are my adorable cats,” he then proudly showed off his wallet which had an assortment of different kinds of cats.

“Cute,” he admitted as he took in the collection of cats, “was this an all at once thing or more of a gradual.”

“Oh some were gradual, others were in groups, and some was just picked up,” he said as he put up his wallet, “Like one day I come home and find Mimi, one of my older ones, carrying the most adorable blue kitten,” he began to tell his tale of Mo as the two continued their shopping together.

“I’ll be with you in just a moment,” Pigsy yelled out as he served a tray full of steaming hot noodles to his other customers.

“Man, this place is packed today,” Mac said as he took the only seat on the counter, which was by the entrance. The place was brimming with customers, either loitering outside waiting for their order or just chatting amicably inside.

“Yeah, lunch hour kicks my as-butt each time,” he had to suppress a groan and put on a customer service grin as he watched another group stroll in. “Be with you in a minute!”

“I thought you had some staff? I know the last time we came in, we saw a driver leaving with the food,” he asked as he straightened out his lavender dress covered with floral print.

“Well,” Pigsy said after he finished taking orders and began making the food, “I had to fire that lazy bum after he called off so many times, a few I get, but how does 4 out of the five days you work help?! And you still expect me to pay you for a full two weeks of service?” He grumbled harshly as he then took a few of the clean bowls out.

“Yikes,” Mac grimaced, “…want some help?”

The owner paused and sharply looked towards the monkey, “you offering?”

“Yeah, don’t really have anything better to do, besides,” he showed off two more clones, which barely made people bat an eye as they were too engrossed in their meals and phones, “I am basically a one man army.”

Pigsy looked so wistfully at that power and quickly asked, “are you any good at customer service?”

“I volunteer at a theater,” he raised an eyebrow.

“You're hired,” the shorter demon threw an apron at him, “you’ll get paid by the end of the day.”

“Instead of that, how bout next time I drop by, food is on the house?” He bargained as he put on the apron.

“Deal,” he instantly agreed and he could feel a wave of relief wash over him as he now could focus on cooking instead of everything at once. “Next time why don’t you talk to Tang about how free meals work, maybe then his lazy butt can finally start paying me.”

“Why don’t you just not give him free food?” Macaque smirked as he saw a faint blush on the pig’s face.

“Shut up,” he muttered.

The monkey said nothing more as he put the apron on, turned to the group of people that was just seated, took out a notepad, and gave his most theatrical smile “Welcome to Pigsy Noodles, what can I get started for you?”

“So anyway, I have been looking through some of the books that I saw in an antique store, and let me tell you that I scored the motherload!” Tang excitedly said as he talked beside the lake. “Guess what I happened to find.”

“What?” The creature prompted him as he casually floated in the water.

“You have money? You actually have a job,” the other being questioned, “and you still let Pigsy pay for your food?”

“It’s a journal that tells the tale of someone who got trapped in the spiritual world after a failed ritual!” He exclaimed as he steadfastly ignored the previous question.

“Pffftt,” he sputtered out a laugh.

“I don’t know about you but isn’t it usually a bad thing when someone gets trapped somewhere,” Macaque drawled out as he chewed on a plum as he stretched out on the grass with a baby monkey clinging onto him. Ní, who decided to chill in her rabbit form for some reason, also nodded as she laid down on the sunlight grass. “Also, you haven’t answered my question.”

“Well she obviously is alright since she wrote this book and all,” the historian tried to defend himself as he still didn’t answer.

“Surrree.”

“It’s true, you agree with me right Shu,” he turned to the water demon.

“Absolutely,” the Shui Gui cheekily said.

Tang shot a smirk at him.

“He agrees with anything he finds funny,” he rolled his eyes.

“Well anyway,” he took out the book and showed it to them, “this book illustrates how Chi-Chi journey through the treacherous parts of the realm, tricked many dangerous beings, gazed upon the beauty of the uncharted, and met so many spirits and immortals along the way!”

“Is that so,” Mac hummed.

“I would give an arm and a leg to meet an immortal or even a spirit,” he said unblinkingly then he went back to his fanboy mode, “I would have so many questions to ask them!”

The 2 immortal beings shared a look at each other as the monkey then put a hand over the spirit’s mouth to stop him from saying anything.

“Don’t you even think about it Kappa,” he warned him.

The drowned spirit just gave him a cheeky grin as he raised his webbed hands in the air.

“I swear,” Macaque grumbled as he put down his hand, “how the hell did the two of you even become friends?”

“He fed me some beef jerky,” he happily explained, “and that was the start of a beautiful friendship.”

“And he never once comments on why you always hang around the lake and not anywhere else?” He incredulously said.

“Nope!”

“Adrenaline junkie I swear.”

“You say something?” Tang called out as he paused his fanboy mode.

“Just talking about your obvious crush on Pigsy,” Mac facepalmed when the spirit just had to say that of all things.

“It’s not a crush!” Tang marched up to him with his ears redder than an apple, “Can’t someone just appreciate another person's attractive qualities?”

“Yes, yes you can,” he agreed.

“Good,” the fanatic crossed his arms, “then you can safely assume that-.”

“Butttt you have a fancy for the pig,” the spirit ended.

“NO I DO NOT!”

“The sheer irony is actually ridiculous,” Mac said to himself as he slowly petted the infant.

“Ooo oo,” the baby macaque cooed.

“No, you cannot eat my tail.”

“You know, I’m getting real tired of those idiots' constant fighting,” Macaque grumbled as he petted a very fat and very fluffy cat.

“Tell me about it,” Sandy nodded his head as he drank some tea. “They have been at it for almost the second they met each other.”

“I swear I am so close to just shoving them both in a closet alone and letting them deal with it.”

“Yeahhh, that might not work so well,” Sandy drawled out as he set down his cup.

“Why? Cause it won’t be right,” he mocked.

“Well there’s that, but also there’s the fact that it would absolutely do nothing at all and just lead to them bickering more,” he pointed out.

“You, unfortunately, have a point,” he slumped back as another cat crawled on top of him.

“Also, I may have already tried that.”

“Wait? Really?” He sat back up and looked at the blue demon’s sheepish expression.

“Let me just tell you that seeing it on t.v does not really work the same way as real life,” he still remembered how they were both mad at him for locking them in a room together.

“Tell me about it,” Mac already knows the pain as both MK and Mei went through this phase as they tried to do the most ridiculous stunts or experiment with dangerous chemicals. Luckily he managed to stop or save them in time, but there were a few times where he was preoccupied or just missed it. Let it be known that they both learned their lesson after breaking bones and a fierce rash all over their arms. He still doesn't know what they were trying to prove with the lacquer tree. “Oh yeah, how did it go with flicker the other day? Didn’t give you too much trouble?”

“Oh nothing I couldn’t handle,” Sandy smiled at the mention of his newest client, “Can’t tell you much cause of confidentiality and whatnot, but he is open to another session.”

The monkey nodded, “that’s good, Gods know he needs it, now if Raki was more amenable to the idea, but she is the most prideful person I know and that is including her husband.”

The blue demon winced, “yeahhh I can see how that might be a bit difficult.”

“You're telling me.”

“Focus,” Macaque yelled out as he nimbly dodged a flying kick, “remember that when you strike, you make sure that strike will be your last.”

Mei didn’t say a word as she growled at her missed shot and jumped towards him then fainted for an upward cut then quickly proceeded to go into a low roll as MK came up from behind with a high kick.

“Good plan you two,” he praised as he simply jumped above MK’s head and said, “but try going for a grapple next time, it would have been more effective to topple me over rather than try to catch me off guard in the air.”

MK flipped backward and attempted to grab onto his tail, which he quickly realized was a mistake as he felt the tail wrap around his arm and flung him to Mei, who was charging at him.

“If I was an unskilled fighter then that would have been quite an effective weakness to exploit, but it’s too bad I’m not,” he mocked the two as he caught Mei sword with one hand and MK escrima stick with the other and casually tossed them back to the edges of the tree line.

“Oh come on!/We almost had him!” Both teens yelled out as they simultaneously punched a tree in frustration, which left a handprint etched into the wood when they took it out.

Only Macaque noticed this as both of the kids elected to split off from each other and try to attack him from both sides. “Guess they have adapted quite well to my energy,” he mused as he watched them run towards him, “Probably should tell them to take it easy else they’ll break their bones, again.” He then easily began to dodge from both of their attacks as they gave it their all to finally hit the damn monkey.

And this how it continued, with both seventeen year olds working together to finally land a hit on the speedy monkey, only for it to fail every time.

“You're getting better,” he said as he looked down on the two exhausted teenagers trying to catch their breath.

“One day,” Mei took a long deep breath before continuing, “one day, I don’t know when, but one day I will punch that damn smug off your face.”

“Ditto,” MK raised his hand in the air then dropped it then pushed his loose hair out of his eyes.

Mei saw this and gave a faint snort, “you know I can help with your hair-”

“I’m not putting pigtails in my head again,” he deadpanned.

“Come on, I can even get fluffy to join.”

“How about no,” he bluntly said as handed them two cold water bottles, “take a breather breezy, starlight. We can resume in a few minutes.”

“Okayy,” they moaned out.

“Awww, but I bet you would look cute in pigtails,” they all turned to see Minsheng hop in with a few others as well, “I know there will be a lot of demons just willing to pay for a pic, just think of the money.”

“Remember the glitter,” Macaque growled out.

“The bunny paused and crossed their arms as their friends laughed behind him, “ Well I’m just saying.”

“It took them ages to get all that out,” Daiyu stated, it didn’t even come off until a full month has gone by, and yet they still found small patches in their fur.

“Almost killed him when he tried to hug me with that on him,” Bohai huffed as he glowed a bit at the horrible image of him even having a speck of that abomination on him.

“They looked like my gremlin’s arts and crafts masterpiece when they were five,” Yanyu chortled.

“It was indeed horrible,” Ahmed lowly chuckled out as he slowly trailed behind them all, then all demons, and adult human, in the vicinity paused.

“Oh right this,” the bluenette human almost hit herself at how quickly she forgot, “we did come here for a reason.”

“Voices gettin to ya,” the long-furred monkey easily asked the lion demon.

“They have been a bit annoying,” he gave a weak chuckle.

“I feel ya,” he turned to his kids, “go towards the tree line with the rest of them, it seems that class will have to be cut short.”

“Okay?” Both were very confused, but obliged by the demon words as they walked over to the group, only to be pulled back by Bohai. “Hey!/What?”

“Oh trust me,” the jellyfish demon said, “you do not want to be anywhere near Ahmed at the moment. He’s a bit...unhinged.”

“Him? But he’s a total softie,” Mei shot a look to him.

“He let Mei put ribbons in his mane,” MK added.

“Oh there’s no doubt about Med squishy heart, but there are times where he just has to cut loose, ya feel me,” the vulture just received confused looks.

“Just watch,” the bunny demon grinned and took out a bundle of golden carrots, and began to eat.

“What do you mean-,” she was cut off by Macauqe voice.

“Come at me you overgrown cat.”

They saw Ahmed give a grateful nod before he went on all four, not even caring about his messing up his robes, and his body started to spasm as he let out a fierce roar that made everyone in the vicinity cover their ears.

ROAAARRRRR

He then flickered out of view and the monkey quickly had both his arms crossed in front of him as a plume of dirt and dust gathered around him without warning. It was only when it was settled that the demons and humans saw that the once flat field now had a decent crater in the middle with both lion and monkey. Ahmed gave a low snarl as he saw that the monkey was not harmed.

“Aww baby cub claws not working,” he mocked him as he sent a hard kick to his jaw, “how bout I help ya there.”

He growled as he quickly grabbed the monkey’s leg and flung him to the ground, he gave a nasty grin as he saw blood trickle from his head.

“Wouldn’t get too cocky, haven’t you already tasted the blood trickling out of your jaw?”

The lion stilled as he tasted the metallic tang covering his tongue, he let out a low growl in frustration.

“First blood to me,” was all Mac had to say before the lion gave a roar and lunged at him, thus the fight beginning once more.

MK and Mei were stunned silent as they watch the vicious battle as each time Ahmed tried to throw an attack it would either get dodged or redirected, but if he did manage to land one blood was always shed. Macaque was the same way as each time he managed to strike him down they swore that they heard bones loudly breaking.

But neither side gave in.

“Terrifying right,” they were slightly startled by Yanyu’s voice and couldn’t help, but fall over as they saw, not only her, but everyone casually laying down and/or eating.

“Oh don’t give us that look,” Daiyu said as she hummed and watched the lion attempt to claw the monkey's eyes out, “it’s only some bloodshed, nothing major. Though it would be more thrilling if a certain spider bitch was involved, I would love to see her blood splattered out,” she lowly huffed.

“What she means to say is that Macaque has this well in hand, this isn’t his first time dealing with ol Meddy when he’s primal,” Bohai tried to comfort them.

“Primal?” MK questioned.

“Basically it’s when someone instinct takes over,” Minsheng explained as they munched on their carrot while watching Mac throw him harshly to the ground, “sometimes it’s a good thing like you stuck in a corner and you got a colony you need to protect behind you, it’s one hell of a boost let me tell you. Other times not so much.”

Both kids blinked at that lackluster answer.

“What they mean,” Bohai continued as they casually looked away from Ahmed sinking his teeth into Macaque shoulder, “is that other times the bad times, to put it bluntly, it’s when the voices get so loud that it begins to control your entire being until you finally get rid of it. If you're lucky, it can be as easy as sleeping, if not well,” he looked at where the six-eared monkey had ripped his shoulder away from Ahmed red stained fangs and proceeded to knock out a few teeth in retaliation. “That.”

“He becomes bloodthirsty,” Mei quietly says.

“Yeah,” Yanyu softly brought them down next to her as she gave them a bag of popcorn, “it’s not pretty, but he just has to let it out.”

“But why is Dad the one fighting him?! Why not any of you!” He half shouted in nervousness and anger as he looked towards the demons, specifically Daiyu.

“Well I don’t know about you, but I don’t have a death wish,” Bohai bluntly stated.

“Here here,” Sheng raised his hand.

“Tried that once and I was beaten in a minute flat,” the vulture huffed, “if Mackie wasn’t there then my body would have been a nice dinner to the rest of the wake.”

“Thus their first meeting,” the bunny added.

“Wait, Mac Mac first time meeting Ahmed was when he was beating the shit out of Daiyu and then to each other,” Mei asked.

“Yep,” they collectively said.

“And he is literally the only one able to fight against him?” MK questioned.”

“Yep,” they repeated.

Both teens took a glance as the monkey continued his vicious strikes against the lion, who attempted to decapitate his head every time, but each time he missed he instead decimated any boulders in the unfortunate vicinity into dust. The primal lion retaliated with his own thundering roar, but Macaque was fast enough to dodge the attacks that uprooted a grove of trees.

“Well there goes any small lingering doubts on how he was able to go toe to toe with the Monkey King,” Mei deadpanned as she slumped and stuffed her hand into the popcorn.

MK followed suit as he ate some popcorn, “you’re telling me.”

“He is kicking major monkey ass right now.”

“I am so happy that he is going easy on us,” the ponytail boy whispered out.

“Holy shit, no kidding,” she agreed, “just think, we could have been less than paste on the side of the road with a single hit if he actually tried to let loose with us.”

“Nahh, you don’t have to worry about that,” Min waved their worries off, “other than this, the only other time he actually lets loose is around his exes.”

“I’m sorry, his WHAT?!/Wait? WHAT?!” Mei and MK sat up as Mei continued, “what do you mean exes?!”

“Dad dated?!?!?” MK followed suit.

“Oh yeah,” Yanyu grinned, “I even met some of them, and let me tell you that he has horrible taste in partners.”

“I don’t think it’s his fault that most of them fall on the insane scale and not in a good way,” Bohai deadpanned.

“By insane you mean impulsive as shit that tries to fight anything that moves, then yeah,” Daiyu nodded.

“It’s weird hearing those words coming from you,” the adult human teased.

“Hey, I may like fighting, but even I have my own limits. His partners take the entire train and then the second one charging at em.”

“I’m still trying to wrap my head around Dad dating,” the seventeen year old muttered as he gripped his head as he looked towards the blood stained battle. “This I can get, but dating?”

“…I am so never gonna let this go,” a twinkle of mischievous appeared in Mei's eyes as she looked at them, “sooo if you had to guess, which one is his most insane, or worst, partner.”

“I have to say Hui, that scorpion bastard seemed nice enough, but she was a raging alcoholic that always tried to get into the celestial realm for some booze” Sheng started as they stuffed the rest of the carrot in their mouth.

“Ju. He was a fishy one, that turtle was always looking for his next meal, no matter where it came from,” Bohai grumbled.

“Might have something to do with nature,” Yanyu teased.

“Shut up.”

“Both of ya are brain dead if you forgot who really takes the crown,” the winged demon interjected.

“Who then?”

Daiyu and Yanyu just looked at each other before saying, “Lemur bitch.”

“Fair point,” both aquatic and land demons replied.

“Who?” Mei asked, but it was met with grimaced faces.

“Just,” Bohai began, “just pray you never meet him, Shun is-,” he was cut off by a loud yell.

SLAM

“WE DON’T TALK ABOUT HIM!” Macaque screeched while all his ears flared up, his eyes twitch violently with a wild look. “NEVER!” He repeated as he pressed his foot and staff on the lion’s back, who was just growling out and thrashing wildly under him.

“Yeahhh, let’s just say that after him, doc swore off on dating,” Yanyu sighed as she ate a handful of popcorn.

“But what did he do?” MK said as he was careful to avoid the name.

“Trust me, you don’t want to know.”

“But I really do,” Mei leaned in.

“No you don’t.”

“But I-,” she got a mouthful of popcorn stuffed in her mouth.

“You don’t,” Yanyu pulled back her hand, “now let’s watch them beat the shit out of each other. 20 on Mufasa knocking him out this time.”

“I’ll add to that,” Min added.

“Well I bet 25 that Dad will knock him out!” MK shouted, “there’s no way he’ll lose.”

“And I’ll double that,” Mei joined in after she swallowed the popcorn, “no way pops is losing to an overgrown cat!”

“Get ready to eat your words.”

“The only thing I’ll be eating is some delicious double truffle swirl ice cream with your money.”

“Let’s just see about that.”

(Minsheng soon regretted those words as both Mei and MK happily ate their ice cream alongside a bandaged, but still a very conscious monkey, and a bruised up lion who was contently knocked out.)

“And that should be the last of it,” the eighteen year old boy grinned as he then noticed a violet headband hanging next to a stuffed monkey, “whoops, can’t forget that.” He quickly snatched it up and proceeded to put his hair in a ponytail then began to look around his room.

The room, once filled with clothes spread all over the floor, glow in the dark stars on the ceiling, pictures and posters covering the walls, now laid bare with only a few boxes left to the side filled with them all. MK couldn’t stop the sad grin that formed on his face as he took in the sight of his room-old room, he was going to miss this, but he felt that it was time to move out and try living on his own for a while.

Knock Knock

“Sorry I’m not in right now, leave a message,” he jokingly said despite fully knowing who is on the other side.

The door swung open to reveal Macaque fondly rolling his eyes, “Where’d you get that snark from, I’ll never know.”

“Neither shall I.”

The monkey looked around the room, “so it looks like you're about done, you gonna bring it all over to Pigsy?”

“Most of it, yeah, but I have a separate pile I'm donating or giving to Yan munchkins,” he pointed to a few boxes titled ‘Donations’ and ‘Yanyu Gremlins.’

Mac smirked at the name as he gave a little walk around the bare room and noticed that where the bed used to be was a splatter of red paint and a dent in the wall, “huh, so how did this happen?”

MK froze as he saw what he was looking at and gave a nervous grin, “so remember when Mei was over and we had a bunch of paint for that art project.”

“The one about the deities or the one about nature?”

“Nature, and well remember how you found us covered in paint in here.”

“After I told you to keep it in the kitchen or outside so it won't be too hard to clean up, yes.” He deadpanned.

“And we did at first,” he put a finger up, “buttttt I left some of my materials in my room and it was alot, so Mei followed, but we kinda forgot that we still had wet paint all over us and we began to freak out. One thing led to another and Mei may have accidentally used too much force as she was panicking and let to the dent in the wall, which then made us panic even more, so we had the idea of moving the bed to cover the dent, which worked...except now the covers had paint on it and well....”

“Is how I found the both of you freaking out on the bed covered head to toe in paint,” the monkey snorted.

“In hindsight, we probably should have taken off our shoes before walking inside,” he scratched the back of his neck and sat against the wall opposing the window.

“That would have been a smart idea, took us ages to get it all cleaned,” he smirked as he sat beside him.

The teenager sighed as he looked out the window, “I'm gonna miss this.”

“Pfft, who says you can’t come back?” He playfully ruffled his head, “this isn’t a goodbye, but a see you later, you're always welcomed back home anytime.”

“Even if I screw it up time and time again,” he leaned into the touch.

“Even if you managed to wreck the whole country and have a bounty coming from the heavens that could feed nations for lifetimes,” Mac shot back.

MK laughed at the image, “Havoc in Heaven’s sequel, now with more monkeys.”

“And dragons,” the demon added.

“Mei would kick so much ass.”

“She absolutely would,” he chuckled as he continued to thread his fingers through his son's hair.

It was silent and, like so many times before, the two of them took only comfort from it.

“Dad,” MK quietly began.

“Yes comet.”

“… I’m scared,” he curled up into him, “like super duper scared and I have never left you ever since you saved-,”

“You would have-,” Macaque interjected.

“Saved,” he emphasized, “me and I can never thank you enough for just being there but I really want to do this and I really want to try to do things on my own! But I don’t know why I am so scared-wait I do, but it just so stupid and I can’t believe that I feel this way, cause you won’t just up and leave, but I-,” he stopped as he felt his Dad arms encircle him.

“It’s a scary step and I know change is terrifying, but I am so proud that you want to do this. It will be hard, no doubt, and at times it may seem like the whole world is against you, but know that you still have tomorrow waiting for you. So,” he tilted his son's head, “keep your head held high and look towards the stars, cause that right there is your limit starlight.”

MK smiled at his father's words.

“Also I think you may have forgotten something,” he showed off his six ears fluttering. “I have six ears for a reason, so if you ever need help or just need me, just call and-,”

“You’ll come running,” he grinned as he pushed himself further into the monkey's soft fur.

“And don’t you forget it,” he pushed his face into his son's hair and gave a soft kiss on top.

“I won’t,” he whispered out and clutched onto him tightly as both curled up in content.

#lego monkie kid #monkie kid #mk #macaque #PlumTreeAU

30 notes · View notes

heliosthegriffin · 3 years

Text

Sacred Rites

“Do you swear to honor The Heavenly Champion in all your works, Jaune Arc?”

To be a Paladin, to be servant to the divine and defender of the innocent. That was his dream.

“Yes, I swear, from the day I entered the Victarion to now, I have been the Goddess’s to command and lead.”

“Do you answer to our Goddess, and only our Goddess?”

“To no other, now and forever, never shall I let man, law, or force of nature, interrupt me in my quests and duties, I answer to the Goddess and only the Goddess, or those that she speaks through.”

“Will you uphold the oaths of our order?”

“I will feed the starving,

I will chastise the foolish,

I will forgive the repentant,

I will be generous to the poor,

I will help the needy,

I will act when needed, never just when called upon,

I will protect the young, the weak, the weary, and the innocent, I will fight for the common man!

I will be honorable in all pursuits,

strong in body, faith, and mind,

Never shall greed or callousness, guide my path!

For I make my own!

I will guide the weary, tired, and directionless to the warmth of our hearths, and give them guidance, and I will let them go if they desire to be alone, but never close the door.

I will live with freedom in my servitude, now and forever.”

He didn’t need to look up to know that tears crested the eyes of Champion Maria, with a crack in her normally stern voice she continued.

“Then as Champion of the Victarion, Maria Calavera, I name you Jaune Arc first Paladin of Pyrrha-Nikos, Heavenly Champion, Savior of the Commons, First Apotheosis, she who cast down the Old Tyrants! Hold your head up,”

Jaune did, looking into the silver eyes of the surprisingly youthful looking Champion.

“you will carry your head high, as you are the first and only true Paladin of Pyrrha-Nikos! Take pride in position, but never let humility leave you, you will carry the weight of the faith on your shoulders, but with the strength of all those with the faith! Now go forth child, and meet those you would cherish and protect!”

With a tear going down his cheek, he turned and looked out at the full temple. He had finally realized his dream, one that he would live forever more.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Entering his chambers Jaune collapsed on the humble bed of his.

It had been a heavenly experience after the ceremony, full of friendship, feasting, games, dancing, along with promises and new memories being made. It beginning and ending on a high note, with friends from across the city and continent showing up, and them promising to meet once again as soon as he has leave to go questing. He couldn’t have had a better day if he tried!

It really made the last eight years seem like nothing in comparison. He let out a happy sigh, truly his hardships and sacrifices had paid off. What would the boy that he was at ten years old think of himself now?

Probably that he should have left home sooner.

Hmm-pf, the thought making him crack up a little.

Laying on his bed looking around his normally bare chamber were full to bursting with the gifts, more than he knew what to do with, but it mattered not, he’d cherish them all.

The masterwork sword that Ruby made him.

The gambeson Coco had made for him.

The tabard Velvet made for him.

The bottle of fine whiskey that Yang made him promise not open till they did quest together.

Emerald had even gotten him back the coin purse that he lost! He enjoyed the embroidery on it that she had gotten done on it.

Brother Ren had come by with Sister Arslan to set up the party, nothing less than what he’d expect from Tenders of Sun Wukong, Second Apotheosis.

Ren had even given him a pair of fine gloves, some potions, and even an alchemy set and basic instructions!

Arslan just promised not to beat him too badly at the next inter temple championship. Also gave him a nice embroidered belt with gold inlays.

Old Port had come by with enough food to feed an army, and left him a nice antler handled skinning knife.

Tukson had brought him some books to read, ranging from philosophy to legend to stories from other continents.

So many gifts.

A sharp knock on the door took him out of his thoughts.

Jaune quickly moved to answer the door.

On the other side, Champion Maria Calavera. A woman many years his senior looking no older than a decade his senior.

Jaune dropped to his knee, and paid respects. “I’m honored by your presence, my champion.”

“Lift your head and stand boy, we are both equals in Her eyes.”

Jaune rose to his feet, the tall young man towering above the champion, and he beckoned Maria in.

Maria entered and sat at his desk, and Jaune took a seat on his bed.

“Pardon, my rudeness, My Champion,-”

“As I said we are both equal in Her eyes, so you may address me as Maria, or not at all. There will be no deferential treatment between the two of us, are we clear?” Maria asked sternly.

Jaune’s face blushed, and he scratched the side of his face. “But, My-” Maria raised an eyebrow sharply. “I mean Maria, how can I compare to a legendary figure of the faith such as yourself, when I just became a Paladin today?” Jaune argued weakly.

“Tut-tut, my boy, you sell yourself short, you are the first Paladin of this faith, a faith over a thousand years old and you are the first paladin, the first to actually channel Her power!” Maria jabbed a slender finger into Jaune’s chest. “The first to not be granted her power, but to be a conduit to her greatest, and the first man to join her side!” Maria sly smirked at him. “What makes you think that the Goddess’s chosen is not worthy to refer to her Champion by name?”

A blood-red color over took the poor young man’s face, and he weakly mumbled. “When you put it that way, I suppose I can’t really refute you, can I?”

“Hmm, nope!” Maria answered cheerfully.

“Hah, so onward we move forward, what brings you here at such a late hour, Ma-Maria,” Jaune asked with effort. “I don’t mean to be rude, but it’s getting late, and it has been quite the day.”

Maria smiled at him. “Well, that’s because it has passed Midnight and it is officially time for you to perform your first duties as Paladin, as I have been asked by the Goddess to come gather you to bring you to the sanctum.”

Jaune’s brow furrowed with confusion. “She has? Why has she not called me herself?”

Maria let out a laugh. “Oh, she’s just a bit excited, and didn’t think you could handle her voice right now.”

“Oh!” Jaune said understanding, as the power of Gods control directly related to their emotions. If too excited she might blast him with too much power by speaking to his mind. Conduit of her power he might be, but Maria had decades of time to acclimate herself to the presence of the divinity.

Maria nodded and got up, “Now come along, we shall not keep Her waiting, hmm?

Quickly he jumped to his feet ready to go. “Of course not, that would be folly.”

“Indeed.”

In truth Jaune knew his way to the sanctum, but he did doubt his ability to get in without Maria.

“So, do you know my first duty, Maria.” Jaune asked with any trouble this time.

Maria lightly smiled. “Oh, that between you and Her, Jaune. Hehehe.”

Cocking his head in confusion, Jaune could only wonder what she meant, perhaps it was a test of devotion or strength of character, or possibly his first quest!

Yang would be so proud if he got a quest!

They arrived at the sanctum fairly quick, as said before they both knew the way.

The doors that hid the sanctum were taller than two of Jaunes, and big enough for a dozen men to wall shoulder to shoulder to pass through. Made of a beautiful bronze inlaid with artwork of previous champions.

Maria opened the doors with one hand. “Go on now, try not to have too much fun.”

Jaune looked confused, but went inside anyway.

The door closed behind him leaving him facing a pool of steaming water and the idol of Pyrrha Nikos.

The idol stared at Jaune down to his soul seeming to strip him down to his most primal components.

Jaune then fell to his knees. “I have come to you, my Goddess.”

A please hum seemed to come from the statue and the entire room.

“Raise my Paladin, it is time to attend to your duties.” The warm voice of his Goddess seemed to echo from behind his ear.

Jaune did as he was told and rose. “What would you have me do, my Goddess.”

Another pleased hum came forth.

A light whisper seemed to dance in his ear. “Oh yes, I like the way you call me that.”

Jaune looked confused. “Why would I call you anything but that?”

“Oh, you little charmer.”

Jaune’s confusion remained. “Ok, but what is my first duty?”

“STRIP!” His Goddess boomed around him, nearly knocking Jaune onto his butt.

Jaune staggered around drunkenly for a second, a thin stream of blood falling from his ears.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, my little Paladin! I got a little excited for this!” His Goddess echoed again, as a holy glow healed Jaune.

“It’s fine, my Goddess, but, um, may I ask why I must remove my clothing?” Jaune innocently asked, finding his clothing rather comfy despite the humidity of the room.

The idol and the room went silent as though his Goddess was in thought, ha, surely not, she must merely be pondering me a fool. Jaune thought to himself.

The Idol’s cut emerald eyes glowed. “My Paladin, my dear sweet Paladin, how am I to embrace you and acclimate you to my power if there is a boundary between us?” The idol's clothes disappeared leaving only a naked metal idol.

Jaune’s face went blush. “Oh, I guess that makes sense...”

The idol seemed to smile at him, a little scary if he might add. “Now once again, STRIP!” The words seemed to drip out of the idols mouth like honey.

Jaune shivered under the Idols words, but did as he was told pulling up his shirt. “WAIT,” The idol cried out as he did. Jaune looked at the Idol again in confusion. “DO IT SLOWLY~”

Shrugging Jaune pulled his shirt down, only to grab it by the hem and then slowly rolled the fabric up, revealing inch by inch the naked, supple and muscular body of Jaune Arc.

The shirt rising like a curtain to show the sharp, deep cut v of his Adonis belt that led into his pants, hiding a treasure Pyrrha would see soon enough. The shirt continued it’s slow trip up, showing one at a time his flat, smooth, uncontainably powerful abs, and smoothly contoured sides of his waist, showing off his powerful core.

The next destination to be revealed was his broad chest that barely contained his two muscular pecs, each looking like they could crush a steel ingot between them! His arms looking like masterfully crafted pieces of art rather than flesh and muscle. Above them was his wide shoulders corded with powerful muscles under his skin, that held up a veiny neck coiled with even more muscles!

Then he folded the shirt and put it on the floor, turning around showing off a wonderfully sculpted back, one so well made she was going to give Maria even more regards. The idol's eyes trailing down his back to see two cute dimples on his back!

Then he pulled down the pants showing off a well rounded ass! They had dimples too! And-

The Idol’s emerald eyes cracked at the sight between his legs, and then instantly reformed.

“Now what would you ask of me, my Goddess?” Jaune said, feeling a little lost about what was going on.

His Goddess said nothing for a while just staring at him.

After a couple minutes passed, Jaune coughed awkwardly into his hand and pronounced. “If you do not speak, my Goddess, I will assume I have displeased you and leave.”

“What, sorry?” His Goddess asked him, must have spoken too quietly.

“I asked if I offended you, my Goddess.”

“Oh, noooo~, I am most pleased, most pleased indeed.” Jaune smiled. If she’s happy, I’m happy, he thought to himself.

“So what would you have me do now?”

“Clean thyself my Paladin, buttttt~, slowly~!” His Goddess asked of him.

Jaune nodded determinedly, as she asked, so it shall it be done!

Jaune slowly walked his way into the languidly steaming water, hissing a little bit at the bite of warmth it shot through his flesh, but endured for his Goddess! Also the hot water started to feel quite nice. Reaching the center of the pool, he was waist deep. He looked around for any soap or oils, a small wooden bowl full of various cleaning agents.

The idol of Pyrrha’s emeralds cracked once again, and then reformed in an instant watching her Paladin bathing.

Jaune eventually emerged from the pool clean as a whistle. “Uuuh, I need to do that more often, I feel brand new. You have my thanks my Goddess.” Jaune said reventently.

His Goddess’s idol did speak, for some reason it’s metal cheeks turning cherry red, why would it do that though?

Finally her voice blessed him again. “And you shall do this sacred rite before me everyday you’re here, my Paladin!”

Jaune then let out a muffled yawn. “Apologize my Goddess, I fear my fatigue has gotten the better of me.”

“It’s fine my Paladin, I have only a few more tasks for you. Anoint yourself with the holy oils, first!”

Jaune did as asked, slowly patting his body with a palm’s worth of holy oil across his body. Smearing a sheen of oil across his sculpted body, all across his body.

A loud crack caught his attention, looking up at his Goddess’s idol to see fragments of emeralds everywhere, but miraculously missing him.

“My Goddess! Are you well, is there an interloper that wishes you harm, please answer me!”

“I’m fine, I’m well! Just a little over excited is all.”

Jaune nodded and returned to finish anointing himself. Finally, his body was ready for whatever his Goddess wished of him.

“I’m finished, my Goddess, what task is next?”

A deep, smile appeared on the idols metal face.

“I require you to cover my idol with various oils to insure that it remain’s form and beauty, this my task for you!”

Jaune nodded. “I will be honored to clean you my Goddess!”

A melodic hum spread throughout the room, giving Jaune a pleasent vibration in his chest.

Jaune knelt before the statue coating his hands in the sacred oils, and put his hands on the feet of the idol, and began working his way up the statue, smearing the oil across the metal of idol, which felt oddly warm, and soft? He didn’t quite understand that, but he was sure that it made sense.

The melodic hum became louder as he worked his way up the legs of the statue making sure to get every inch of it! His duty demanded perfection, and perfection it will have. The grew even louder and louder, practically causing his hands to go numb as he worked in between the legs of the statue, getting each and every surprisingly soft and wet? Inche of the idol till the hum turned into a ringing cry, as he was blasted into the pool, blood leaking out of his eyes and ears.

Jaune would ask his Goddess what he did to offend her when he could see which way was up.

Another holy light descended upon Jaune healing him again.

“My sincerest apology, my Paladin! I merely became over stimulated.”

Jaune gave a shaky thumbs up and got back to work.

Jaune fell from what could only be described as a hole in space into his bed, clearly unconscious, blood leaking from his face before a bronze holy power covered him, cleaning and healing him.

Pyrrha noticed that the power was transfering into him slightly easier than before, her reasoning may have been bullshit, but not complete bullshit, if he was naked he would absorb her power much easier. By the end of the week he might even be able to do small miracles!

That said Pyrrha felt very content with her little Paladin, he even finished caring for her idol! Not even Maria could do that in her first year as her champion, requiring the help of several acolytes each day. Still that was no slight against her Champion, Jaune was just a rare breed that could accept divine power like a sponge absorbing water.

That said she didn’t expect him to make her climax three times, how was that even possible through a statue!

Pyrrha smirked down at her little Paladin, she was very much excited to watch him grow.

Pushing her from the heavens into the earth, Pyrrha put a pair of lips on his, and then whispered, “Oh my little Paladin, you are loved like no other. Now rest, for the world will have need of you soon. Your oaths pusted and pressure, but you’ll endure, and I will support you every step of the way. For you will be my greatest act in this world, this I swear.”

Then she receded back to the heavens. The various gifts in his room briefly shimmering before the light faded.

AN1: This idea came to me as Jaune being a Paladin and Pyrrha being his goddess sugar mama, who constantly feels him up at everychance, but Jaune doesn’t see anything sexual about it so doesn’t mind.

AN2: Unfortunately Jaune is about to learn despite his goddess being good, her mortality is definitely like the Greek gods in terms of consent and free will.

#Jaune Arc #Oblivous Jaune #Pyrrah Nikos #Goddess Pyrrha Nikos #Thristy Pyrrha #Maria Calavera #High Priestess Maria #High Fantasy RWBY AU

112 notes · View notes

azems-familiar · 3 years

Note

hello! are there any songs you associate with any of the kotor characters? (totally not asking bc my brain is hungry for animatic ideas haha,,)

OH BOY DO I HAVE SONGS

first things first, i will direct you to my twelve hour Revan playlist that i use for writing vibes, it's a mixture of vocal and instrumental and it has both a bunch of Revan songs for different eras of Revan, plus revalek songs, plus some revastila songs, plus some songs that just vibe.... it's good and most of the songs i'm about to highlight, if not all of them, are on there already.

NOW. HERE WE GO.

first things first, i need to introduce you to the title song for my mandalorian wars fic, oblivion by the aviators! god, this song doesn't fit all Revans perfectly, but it fits mine so well it was like it'd been written for her specifically, i swear. listening to the song was what inspired me to write the fic to begin with (and now i have a whole series oops). i mean, come on, look at the chorus:

Let the broken heroes rise Let the victors take their prize No one wins when justice dies War has let this age begin It's where we've gone and where they've been What a state that we're in Here in oblivion

can't look at that and tell me that isn't Jedi Knight Revan and the war that broke them.

next up!! liar by the arcadian wild, my beloved. this song is currently my top all time on spotify, closely followed by the song i'm going to rec after it and then achilles come down - and the fact that anything unseated achilles for the top spot should tell you something. (and if you don't know what achilles come down is look it up that one's on my playlist too.) this is a really good one for Revan's slow fall down, the corruption arc - again, all of the songs i'm mentioning really fit my own versions of the characters best, but they're just good in general. some of the lyrics i enjoy from this one:

hnext up, we have it all by pim stones. this particular one feels very revalek to me, early in the Sith years when they still maybe had good intentions, maybe after the war but before becoming Darth. there's this softer, almost desperate tone to the way the singer sings it that just hits me hard - this is the song i'm using as the title for my Sith years interlude fic! a lyric snippet:

All my life I've been heading for hell But never had I thought I'd drag you down as well I just couldn't resist what he was trying to sell

There's glory ahead but our love will be forgotten If my heart was still mine I would go to the bottom And apologise to you until the day it went rotten

next up we have the balancer's eye by lord huron, which is the song i named my series after (have you noticed a trend yet?). it's a very Revan vibe in general, and while i'm not as much of a fan of the style, the lyrics are really excellent!

Nothing's waiting for us in the great sky Life is equal to dust in the balancer's eye Now I know that I can't lift an old curse Tell me, how does a man change the universe?

Will I ever be forgiven for the crime of my life? Will it haunt me 'til I die?

mmm let's see what next. OH! go to war by nothing more. this is just straight up a Sith years song for revalek, whether you ship them or not - they were important to each other either way! ..... i am not going to tangent into yelling about revalek. that is not what this is for. anyway, the song itself is a) a banger and b) talking about love corrupting and falling apart and it just. it hits, man

Do we censor? Do we flow? Are we drunk on the chemicals? Every feeling in my bones Tells me to lash out and tell you to fuck off You've got my heart and I've got your soul But are we better off alone? With every battle we lose a little more Remember everything that we'd die for You are everything that I'd die for

oooh NEXT we have the song i was going to use for my Jaw Scene before i decided to write a full sith years fic. saints by echos is the song, and again, we've got Sith years Revan and Malak here (yes yes i have a type), the vibes of losing faith and anger and it blends really well with how Revan basically played off being a legendary figure to the Republic to fuel their war against it!

You were standing there like an angry god Counting out my sins just to cross them off Saying that my tongue was too loud to trust And that my blood couldn't keep you

My dear, you're not so innocent You're fooling Heaven's gates So you won't have to change You're no saint, you're no savior

mmmm okay the discord has informed me that ten (10) songs is the maximum i should do in one post so. i will only do four more. chrysalis - the last breath by delain is yet another Sith Revan and Malak song and honestly you can read it as a response to the song above, if you think of saints from Malak's pov and chrysalis from Revan's, they mesh really well together.

Hey, are you still mad? About the time We almost went too far I know your regrets In my defense; By now, it's just a scar That distracts you from Your broken heart Like you wanted it to do How do you feel? I don't... How do you know? You won't... To let go of you I will try Until my last breath How do you feel? I don't... How do you know? You won't... To let go I promise I will fight

next! for a complete change of pace, i have a revastila song for you - warrior by beth crowley. it somehow manages to capture exactly the dynamic i think of in my head when i think about Bastila, the uncertainty, the forbiddeness of it, but the way Revan ultimately strengthens her and she strengthens Revan

You fascinated me Cloaked in shadows and secrecy The beauty of a broken angel

I ventured carefully Afraid of what you thought I'd be But pretty soon, I was entangled

You take me by the hand I question who I am

uhhhhhh i am desperately trying to think of songs that aren't just about Revan but instead here i am with another Mandalorian Wars Revan song, what did we know by rachel rose mitchell! this song was introduced to me by the same friend who sent me oblivion, and it really captures the fall of the Mandalorian wars incredibly well imo - the way it started with righteousness but ended in pain (compassion leading to destruction and that's a ramble i'm not going on here either), and there's this line in there that i'm not including in my snippet that's what scares me more than anything / if we could choose the past / we'd probably choose the same and it's like. yes! that's it! i'm going to once again go insane over the scene in the Korriban tomb in kotor 2!!! knowing the price.... would you choose to do it all again........ aaaaaaaa

It's been so long since we began. It seems so long ago That in the name of loyalty We started on our own. Answering the call of a house we once called home, We knew that we were right. What did we know?

We swore that we understood this wasn't a game, But somehow we found ourselves fanning the flames. Those who cautioned and abandoned us, they were the same. I saw them turn away.

the final song i'm doing is the song i used when i wrote the Betrayal scene from Malak's pov, the little things give you away by linkin park. this one just. it vibes, it vibes hard, goes really into the actual grief of betrayal, and also has a super epic instrumental solo so there's that. as usual, lyric snippet:

Don't want to reach for me, do you? I mean nothing to you The little things give you away But now there will be no mistaking The levees are breaking

All you've ever wanted Was someone to truly look up to you And six feet under water, I do

All you've ever wanted Was someone to truly look up to you And six feet underground now I Now I do

god okay now that you're completely overwhelmed and never want to talk to me again....... i should've probably put this under a readmore but eh. thanks for the ask!

#asked and answered #my revan playlist #there is literally so much music on here #i make up animatics in my head so #you sent this ask in and i sent it to the discord like #what's up i'm about to overwhelm this poor person who just started following me #please don't regret interacting with me #oh i should probably tag this as #long post

8 notes · View notes

anxiouslyfred · 4 years

Text

Ear Defenders

Summary: Since his parents kicked him out Remus has feared being rejected by his soulmate, despite anything Roman or his soulmate can say. After all, what else could follow words like "Dudes, if you were any louder I'd be putting my ear defenders on just to get past.”

AN: I don’t think there’s any warnings needed beyond food mentions, but let me know and I’ll try to remember.

Ships: Dukexiety, background Roceit

/\/\/\/\

Remus had faced rejection all his life. His fascination with injuries was morbid and obsession with butts disgusting; He'd heard it all. Sometimes people would claim it was to do with personal hygiene or the insane attention seeking he did, but Remus was never seeking attention, just doing the things he thought would bring joy in the moment.

For years it was fine that people left him behind. He could make new friends and would someday meet his soulmate who put the words on his wrist from their first future meeting. The universe had promised him he wouldn't see everyone leave. Even Roman believed in that, no matter how much they argued about his inability to quietly fit in at school.

Then their parents kicked him out the day he turned twenty with parting words harsh enough to shake his faith to the core. “You're so immature we doubt even your soulmate will stick around beyond your first words.” The yelling and arguments Roman came out with then and would lecture about anytime the day came up ever after couldn't stop his fear of being rejected forming, but at least it sustained the confidence to be himself that Remus had always carried and for a month tried to ignore and suppress.

With each friend he lost and co-worker who ignored him, Remus's fear grew, after all if these people who didn't have such a lifetime connection didn't give him a chance for 5 minutes why would someone whose first words would be complaining about the noise do so?

Roman did stick around, insisting on it and joining in with some of Remus's ideas. Occasionally he, or his soulmate when they met, would try to tame them enough to be safer but it felt like an empty comfort to have peace with the brother he used to war with. Despite all of Roman's and Janus's attempts they couldn't return the faith lost about his soulmates abandonment. No fairy-tales or classic novels could help someone so isolated from the world he only had two people to talk to most of the time.

/\/\

It was on one of the days that Remus had been dragged away from his work and his rubbish that he found hope again. The litter picker had been locked away by Janus while Roman distracted him so he couldn't start working while they were out. He was still wondering about changing jobs and just keeping the rubbish collection as a hobby; Surely he could be loud on a building site.

The thought was pushed aside by Roman starting to sing Beauty and the Beast. Of course Remus had to improve the lyrics then, nobody needed to hear something so saccharine as that.

“Dudes, if you were any louder I'd be putting my ear defenders on just to get past.” The words cut through everything, freezing Remus in place as he registered the building site next to where they were passing and a guy leaving it watching them. The biggest realisation though was that he'd just heard the words from his wrist spoken aloud and the person's expression wasn't happy.

He was on the verge of tears before he could remember how to speak again. “Please stay long enough to talk. I can be quiet I swear. I think you're my soul.”

Peripherally he could see Janus stopping Roman from speaking, but all his fears rested on the face of alarm and concern now directed at him. “I've got an hours lunch break, but if you give me your number we could carry on texting after that and meet up later?” The words seemed carefully chosen, possibly rehearsed, but they were enough to make Remus want to leap up the walls. “And you don't need to be quiet, Dude. Noise is pretty good generally.”

“Really? But only – Nobody – Everyone -” There was so many things Remus wanted to say all at once but he couldn't get any of them out, tears beginning to fall in the sudden rush of hope.

A tissue being shoved into his hand reminded him of his brothers presence. “I think what Remus is trying to say is aside from Janus and I most people do leave him so thank you for giving him the chance.” Roman attempted to interpret, not entirely successful but close enough.

“We don't need a chaperone, thanks. I deal with my own anxiety enough to be patient with someone else's.” Remus's soulmate snarked back, now holding a hand towards him. “And something to eat generally helps after a whirlwind of emotions, if you'd like yo join me?”

Of course Remus took the hand, overjoyed to be led away. “I'm Remus, He/him. Who are you, My Soul?”

“Virgil, he/him, and do you need some breathing exercises? You've been like swapping from not breathing to hyperventilating since I spoke.” The offer and raised eyebrow glance assessing him made Remus realise just how fast he was breathing.

“Please.” He'd been pulled into a sandwich shop now but Virgil ignored the guy hurrying behind the counter to sit Remus down and help him.

It took a few minutes before his breathing calmed and the bouncing from excitement began. “Can I buy you lunch, Virgie?” He offered, glancing for a way to stay with his soulmate as long as he could.

Being answered with a head-shake dampened his hopes to be helpful though, until Virgil spoke, “Only if you can promise me this isn't part of you trying to behave so I'll stay. Whomever Remus is beyond your fears is who I want to know and I'm happy to wait and reassure until you're comfortable to show him to me. I'm staying; no need to try and earn that.”

Remus gasped at the sincerity and comfort being so freely offered, before actually pausing to think. “I was gonna buy my bro and Janjan lunch today anyway. Lot more fun to buy my soul his even if I can't sabotage it.”

“Then I'll have a hot chocolate with a ham and cheese baguette.” Virgil relaxed back into his seat, finally letting go of Remus's hands though he couldn't say when they'd been taken. Remus had to grin at the snickers he got from walking backwards to the counter.

Virgil was still snickering when he came back with their drinks and this time nothing slightly odd had been done consciously to cause it. “I've not got froth on my nose yet. What's so funny?”

“Re, what on earth did you order to make Sunglasses look so horrified?”

“I wanted as many espresso shots as possible so I can fight the universe and 2 of the most sugary, e-number filled thing they sell so we can get sugar rushes too!” Remus nodded, certain it made sense as he swapped the way the drinks were placed down 9 times before deciding he'd got it right.

Virgil watched the move with a still amused smirk before shrugging. “I'm the first aider for my site so I can patch you up afterwards.” He said, sending electric shocks of relief flinging themselves through Remus. “But other than fighting galactic entities and shocking servers what do you do?”

Most people on the Cities Cleansing team would insist on using their actual job title, saying it sounded more professional, others just stayed down to earth and called a spade a spade; then there was Remus is his own league, “I steal people's rubbish and make treasures out of it all, sometimes hidden safely at the dump!”

“Sounds like you're more than equipped to fight gods then. How would you describe being a builder?” Remus had expected disgust or dismissal but was met with a small smile and curiosity. He had to tap his knee harder to get the happy energy out somehow.

“Committing atrocities against natural habitats or giving purpose to the city areas people look away from. Depends if you work on inner city used sites or areas out taking over farmland.”

Even Janus disliked his descriptions of the jobs people claimed as vital, but Virgil just snorted, nodding along. “Too right. The rich man says build here and people just wanting to survive the month have to follow. I do try to avoid the areas building on new land when I can at least.” Virgil broke off, looking around as though wanting something else to say, before frowning. “No fighting the capitalist regime alone though. One person is too easy for companies to disappear. Best to talk people into unions and protests instead.”

Remus couldn't help but cackle at the remark. After all the years of rejection it was impossible to believe Virgil was real, actually feeding into his ideas and encouraging him. “You're really not going to leave me? I can have your number?” The thought spilt out as soon as he thought over how happy this hour was for him.

“If you give me your phone I can add my number to it now and you already know where I work for the next months if you just want to appear randomly.” Virgil offered, extending his hand across the table. “We could do lunch dates as long as you're okay just sitting by the fountain since I usually bring a packed lunch. I just wasn't awake enough to make it this morning.”

The hour disappeared from them far too quickly, with Remus cackling through it almost more than speaking. Even as they walked back to Virgil's building site they were talking and getting to know each other, only just spotting Roman and Janus approaching from the opposite direction.

Remus ignored them through their farewells and after, standing watching the entrance shut before opening his phone to just stare are the new contact added. “He's staying.” Remus wasn't one for reverence but his voice in that moment was filled with it.

“He's your soulmate.” Roman stated, smiling. There was a relief in Roman's voice that for years Remus would call out given how certain his brother had acted that soulmates don't leave.

“He doesn't even care about the taste combinations I love! Or even my ideas and ways of describing everything!” He threw himself between Janus and Roman, grabbing their hands and recounting absolutely every detail of Virgil from the last hour. At least they'd stop him from breaking in anywhere.

The hand holding didn't last long when he heard a text alert.

'Got tickets to a friends concert on Friday. You coming?'

The world could leave Remus behind but with his soulmate inviting him on a date that was fine with him.

#dukexiety #remus sanders #virgil sanders #soulmate au #hurt/ comfort #roman sanders #Janus Sanders #roceit

180 notes · View notes

slightlymore · 4 years

Text

Rumours | Part 1

Thank you love!! I hope you like this

Part 2 Rumours were that Johnny Suh was very good in bed. Those whispers travelled all around the university campus caressing the ears of every student, standing in pairs while covering their mouths, eyes wide and curved lips, drinking in the juiciest gossip of that year.

“I’ve heard he can make you cum all night and you have to beg him to stop”. “Greg never manages to make me moan as he’s already shaking by himself”. “God, Fiona, dump his ass already, he’s not even that great”. “The guys said that his penis is the biggest one on campus” “I would sell my soul for him to touch me with one single finger” “I’ve heard that he is able to fuck all night” “His pussy eating technique is impeccable” And many more. You’ve heard all the rumours possible and sometimes you inserted yourself in those groups of people on purpose, just to feel up to date. Johnny here, Johnny there, all of this information, but no real witnesses. You were amused at the whole situation and wondered what the truth really was. How come everyone swore about this information but no one actually slept with Johnny before? Where did all of this come from in the first place? The thing is, Johnny never addressed any rumours about his out of world cock or god-tier skills and no one explicitly asked him if it was true or not. He would only laugh as someone complimented him or gave him knowing looks. It was just like that. Canon. But you wanted to see for yourself. You had to know the truth. You were waiting for the right moment to go and ask. Deadass. And thanks to the universe, the opportunity came when you least expected it. When the professor told you that for the new semester you’ll have to work in pairs everyone groaned and rolled their eyes. There was not a single soul happy to work in teams. Yet, weird energy lingered around the classroom as the professor was about to share your partners. Because Johnny was there as well. The silence was total as if everyone kept their breath in while on the edge of their seat. Was it because Johnny was mysterious and no one could talk to him? Was that the only chance to have him around? No. You could go and talk to him and he would raise his honey eyes at you and smile widely. It was because everyone was shy out of their own mind and they didn’t want to admit that they dreamed about fucking Johnny every night while humping their pillows. This situation was ideal because it was inevitable. “I’m not hanging out with him because I want to get into his pants” people would comment. “Pfft, I’m not that type of person. We’re just working on a project together” they would explain. Even though everyone knew. Everyone knew that Johnny Suh was the most desired man in the whole university. “Fuck, I hope he’s bi” you heard a low whisper behind you as you were all waiting for his name to pop up. You kept in a chuckle. You couldn’t lie and say that you weren’t curious to talk to him as well. You wanted to know. The funny thing to you was the fact that people took for granted that they would get laid in the first place. You weren’t that conceited. You didn’t want his dick. You just wanted to know the truth.

“Johnny and Y/N,” the professor said with a monotone voice, unaware of what he has just announced. You felt your eyes widen at your luck and didn’t even feel the multiple light slaps you received from people around you, as congratulations, or, who knows, maybe envy. Johnny looked around as to search for you. He didn’t know who you were, obviously. When he linked eyes with yours you raised your hand a little as if greeting him. Hey, yes, YN is me, haha. God, you’ve never felt so awkward in your whole life. He smiled at you though and imitated your gesture before turning his back again.

“What’s your favourite prompt?” a voice asked while the chatter of people leaving the room intensified. You ignored it, sure it wasn’t directed to you, but then the voice said your name. “Huh?” you raised your head, the pencil case in mid-air as you were packing your bag. “For the project” Johnny explained after letting out an airy chuckle. “Did you look at the list already?” he asked. He was standing on the stairs, at the side of the room, hands tucked inside his pants’ pockets, polite smile on his lips, bag wrapping his chest. “Oh-” you babbled not expecting him to approach you that way and you grabbed the paper. You could swear that it wasn’t written in a language you were able to read. “Uhm-” you hummed again. “I have no idea. Do you have something in mind?” you asked instead. There was no reason for you to feel this nervous. You didn’t want to sleep with him. You just wanted to know the truth. Calm the fuck down, Y/N. He went silent as if he indeed had something pop up in his mind then he looked down at you again. “Let’s have lunch together if you don’t have other plans” he suggested.

Your hands were tightly wrapped around the backpack straps as you were walking towards the corner of the campus Johnny choose as his lunch spot. “I like to eat outside” he explained seeing your confused face when you walked out of the main building. “It’s fine. It’s a nice day” you reassured him. Even if your heart has never beaten that fast before. Having to eat with him in the hall as everyone was staring would have been terrible. Eating with him alone where no one could see you? A dream come true but terrible as well. You weren’t ready to sleep with Johnny Suh. Who were you kidding? What were you thinking? Pairing you both wasn’t a blessing. It was a curse. You were already regretting it. You would be such a disappointment. You could count the number of dicks you’ve sucked before on one hand and you didn’t even need all 5 fingers to do so. Deep in your thoughts you almost missed Johnny as he indicated with his chin the place, saying that you’ve arrived. It was a nice spot, high up on top of a little knoll that accommodated a big tree as well. You sat in the shade on the soft green grass and looked down at the campus. “Quite nice, isn’t it?” Johnny asked. His hair was being caressed gently by the breeze and the little rays of sun poking through the leafage made it shine brightly as if it was gold. Then he looked at you. There it is, you thought. Here it comes. That’s it. You gulped down and tried hard to stop yourself from ripping the grass around you. What were you about to do before? What were your intentions with Johnny? Talk? You had no idea and you didn’t care as his scent inebriated you. He leaned in slowly. You let your eyelids close a little as he was approaching. Your pulse was throbbing inside your ears and your palms got suddenly sweaty. “So, I was thinking, number 6? Or we can read all of them one by one and decide” he spoke after a while as he finally reached his bag near you. He unzipped it and took out a beautiful bento box that he put on his knees. You gasped for air, trying hard to not get noticed and silently cursed at yourself. Okay, rewind. You really thought that Johnny Suh would kiss you after knowing you for 5 minutes? Of course, he wouldn't ask you to suck his dick. On campus! In the middle of the day! God, you were so embarrassed. You tried hard to escape all the prejudices around him and there you were, panties wet just like every other person. Talking! Just talking. That was your mission. Focus. “Does it bother you?” you asked on a whim after a while. Having decided that number 6 was indeed the best choice, you finally started to eat. He let you taste his food and you excused yourself for not offering your sandwich as well but it was quite terrible and he wouldn’t want to experience that. “What?” he asked even if the little line around his mouth told you that he knew what you were talking about. “The rumours” you answered with a little voice. You were so eager to know the truth about it. Like it was a mystery, not the life of a real person. But now, in front of him, you realized how stupid your intent was and that it wasn’t your business. He didn’t answer for a while and just put the lid back on his bento box. Then he smiled. “Believe it or not, you’re the first person to ask me that”. “Sorry, I know I shouldn’t ask since we barely know each other-” you started to excuse yourself, afraid to come off as rude. You really wanted to abort the mission and run away. “No, it’s fine” he assured you. “I actually appreciate it a lot” he added. You swallowed the last piece of sandwich you had and just stupidly looked at him. “It does bother me a little” he answered your question. “Because it makes me just that” he added. You nodded seriously. “A sex god”. He went silent for a split second then laughed as if not expecting such wording. “Yes, I guess you can say it that way” he spoke again when he was able to breathe again. You smiled timidly as well, noticing his slightly red cheeks. Okay, so maybe he wouldn’t hate you if you asked. Maybe it was fine. Maybe you could finally get the answer to that big mystery. “So…” you started, feeling more confident already. “If it’s true or not?” he surpassed you. You hummed, unable to stop your heart from racing. So close. You were about to know. A little leaf danced on top of your head, swirling until reaching your face and hitting your nose. You closed your eyes and chuckled surprised. The leaf then fell on your lap as you touched your face. Johnny’s hand appeared in your peripheral vision. His fingers brushed against your thigh with the intent to retrieve the leaf, but for some reason, they kept on casually lingering there. You turned your head and looked at him but the sun was right behind his head and you couldn’t quite see his expression when he spoke again. “I think you need to discover the answer to that by yourself” he whispered. You continued to stare at him as if under a spell and you thought of nothing besides the way his body got up and slowly descended the hill. When he turned his head to you while waving, you could swear that he winked at you.

#johnny suh #johnny nct #johnny smut #johnny fluff #johnny scenarios #johnny drabble #johnny one-shot #johnny imagines #nct smut #nct fluff #nct scenarios #nct drabbles #nct one-shot #nct imagines

509 notes · View notes

mrsalwayswrite · 3 years

Text

To Choose the Sword (Bishop Heahmund x Reader)

Summary: There is only person that Heahmund cherishes above all, and when she is threatened, he realizes he would do anything to protect her…. even sell his soul to a blue-eyed devil.

This is my contribution to @maggiescarborough 500 followers celebration! (I’m so sorry this is late but here we are.)

Flower chosen: periwinkle- religious symbol in the Middle Ages tied to the Virgin Mary, benevolence (desire to do good to others, charitable), nostalgia and purity.

I also decided to add an extra challenge and write for a character I would not normally write for- hence Heahmund.

Words: 6000

Warnings: implied abuse/mistreatment, mutual pining, couple swear words, heavy religious overtones, Ivar being manipulative

Tag List: @youbloodymadgenius @evelynshelby @pomegranates-and-blood @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie

Also, a huge shout-out to @flowers-in-your-hayr for this absolutely stunning moodboard. Look at this! Its gorgeous! Be in awe!

He knew where she would be.

The leaves and twigs underfoot crunched beneath his boots. The morning sun casted shadows as it peeked through the foliage above him. His sword bounced against his back almost in sync with the cross upon his chest. The weight of both, something he was continuously aware of.

It was here he first met her on a hazy summer day.

It was here the two of them always seemed to find one another like two stars caught in each other's orbits.

It was here he could never decide if she was his salvation or his damnation.

Along the thin trail, his feet guided him, stepping over sticks and rocks. His mind wrestled with the news, but as his mind fought, his heart broke within his chest. It was a selfish reaction, he knew. Yet that did not cease the pain welling in his chest, so strong it threatened to bring forth tears. He kept them at bay. For he was a man of the cloth, a man of God.

But sometimes he struggled with just being a man.

Soon the gurgling of the bubbling creek could be heard amidst the summer songs of the birds. His footfalls quickened and after several more paces, she finally came into view. Kneeling near the creek, hands folded before her in supplication, she appeared the very vision of pious purity.

Heahmund gently called out her name, like a whisper in the breeze, a soft caress on skin. When her head lifted, turning to find him walking closer, his heart skipped a beat. Those eyes that beguiled him, those sweet lips that only allowed kind words to pass through, and her smile…. oh, that smile that lit up her face like a lamp uncovered to shine in the darkest of nights.

To his dying breath, he would fervently believe she was an angel in disguise, a blessing from the Lord God bestowed on his creation to remind them of His goodness.

And that was why she was both his salvation and damnation.

Because he wanted her. He wanted her with all his soul. But she was too pure, too benevolent, too holy for someone like him. She made him want to be better in both his vows and himself. To fight without wavering in protecting his country from the heathens. To protect her from ever having to fear them.

And when she turned those eyes to him, when she smiled gently at him like he was her favorite person on earth, he was undone.

"Your Grace." She rose to her feet, brushing off the few pieces of grass that stuck to her green dress.

"I heard the news that you will no longer be in my congregation."

"Yes. My father has family in York. With his failing health, he thinks it wise for us to move there."

Heahmund hummed in thought as he moved closer. Even though his face remained impassive, his heart clenched at the thought of her leaving. For who else would he look to while saying prayers at Mass? Who else would he recite scripture and poems to while they reclined next to the bubbling creek? Who else was kind enough to seek him out after he returned from a raid, to clean his wounds if any and make sure he was fed?

"I shall keep your family in my prayers to our Lord." He whispered, now standing before her. "My congregation will not be the same without you…. or your family."

She gazed shyly at him through those long eyelashes. "You are too kind, Bishop Heahmund."

"You have denied yourself for many years to look after your ailing father and the rest of your family. If the Pope heard of all your sacrifices for your family and our church, he would name you a Saint."

"I am nowhere worthy of sainthood. You tease me."

A smile drew his lips upward as he watched her. "Perhaps a little."

She laughed, covering her mouth with her hand as she looked downward. It took all of his willpower not to lay a hand beneath her chin, the draw those beautiful eyes back to his own, to gaze upon her beauty, both inside and out, for longer. To ask her to never leave him.

But it was not his place. No matter how he felt for her.

"If it is not too bold of me…." She broke through his turbulent thoughts, her sweet voice trailing off as she toyed with one of her sleeves.

"Go on." He encouraged, heart hammering away inside of him.

"I made something for you. It's not much, but…. but it's just something to remember me by and know you will be in my prayers as well…. for your protection against the heathens." Quickly she dropped to her knees, digging in the basket by her feet.

The basket had gone unnoticed by him as his focus resided with soaking in these last few minutes with her. For he was unsure if the Lord's work would bring him to York. She swiftly pulled something out and held it out with both hands like an offering. His eyes momentarily widened before he reverently reached out and clasped it in his hand. It was a white, square kerchief, soft and pure. It was when he looked at the corners that he truly saw the beauty of it. A small cross was stitched in one corner and in the other opposite corner was a grouping of three small, periwinkle flowers.

"Thank you, y/n, truly." He returned his gaze to her, struggling to keep the awe out of his tone. "I shall cherish your gift as if the Virgin Mary herself gave it unto me."

She giggled, a coy smile on her face. "I would hope that she would bestow a better present for someone as holy as yourself."

"I would never cherish it as much as yours." He admitted with more candor than he should.

Her gaze snapped to his then darted away like a startled bird. A weighty, tense silence hung over them, drawing them closer yet apart simultaneously. For it was this blissful, torturous attraction that left them both spellbound, lost to reality in the presence of the other.

Unable to stay away a moment longer, he cupped her cheek with his calloused hand, forcing her eyes to meet his.

"Bishop Heahmund…." She breathed out.

"Must I remind you to call me just Heahmund when we are alone?"

"Heahmund." She murmured, one of her hands coming to rest on the center of his chest. To anchor herself or him to this moment, he did not know.

Desire and longing colored the air around them. A tension that pushed their bodies closer without their awareness, until they could feel the breath of the other gliding across their lips. Something burned between them, this thing that remained unnamed for so long. Heahmund knew it was not lust. For that carnal sin was something he intimately knew and had used other women for, much to his disgrace. No, this was something far stronger, far more powerful, far more dangerous for both of them. For as the years passed, it never faded or wavered like a dying flame. It endured.

His gaze zeroed in on her bottom lip as his thumb caressed it with an almost-there touch. Her lips parted on a quiet gasp but she made no move to pull away. Those enchanting eyes beheld him with absolute trust. Something he was unworthy of.

After taking a deep breath, his hand traced down her neck, to her shoulder and down her arm to hold her hand leaving goosebumps in its wake. He brought her delicate hand to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss to her knuckles. Then, regretfully, he released her hand.

"Come, I shall escort you back to the city. You should not linger out here alone for too long." He said, taking a step back. Needing space before he did something indecent and unbecoming of his station.

"Thank you." She replied automatically, blinking rapidly for a second as if waking from a dream. A dream he wished he could have further explored, to share openly with her. Bending down, she grabbed her basket and held it against her hip.

They walked back through the woods in silence, more spoken in their actions and looks than could ever openly cross their lips. With each step, Heahmund silently beseeched his God that this encounter would not be their last. Although she was his sweetest temptation, his forbidden apple in the garden, he could not abandon her. It was for her that he picked up a sword to fight the heathens that invaded their land. With what might he had, he would see her protected and defended, that the purity she wore like a veil, the benevolence that dressed her daily, the pure goodness she radiated, would never be blemished.

Even if he never had the honor of holding her against his body, of tasting the sweetness of her lips, to hear the pleasured cry of his name from her mouth, to ever be more than just a man of God to her. It was worth it. For she was his angel.

*****

With eyes that could pierce stone in the raging fury bubbling beneath his skin, Heahmund stared at the city of York.

Captured by heathens.

Those damned sons of Ragnar Lothbrok.

Saxon warriors moved about him, none bothering him, either thinking he was strategizing how to reclaim the city or praying for the Lord's protection over His people as they beat back the devils.

What none knew, what no one could see, was the despair and wrath gnawing away in the bishop's mind. It took every ounce of his willpower to remain in the Saxon camp with the new King and his sons and not to scourge the city of the infestation of heathens. But to go seek for her. To find and protect her. Somehow in his heart, he knew she was down there. In what condition though, he dared not imagine.

When the two sons of Ragnar came in the night to talk of peace, his resolve almost broke. Questions of her coated his tongue like the sweetest of poisons, slowly driving him mad. Yet he swallowed them back down. Not just for fear of his fellow warriors learning of his unholy affections towards her; but fear if she was alive and the heathens realized the depth of his care for her. Surely it would bring about her doom. So when he slipped into their tent like a snake cornering its prey, his fists dirtied by the blood of the Ragnarssons, it was his silent promise to save her, that even from here he would protect her.

They must retake the city, to drive out the Vikings, for God and country and justice. Most importantly for him- they must retake the city so he could find her.

*****

"You call me heathen, but to me, I am godly. I live by the gods."

"There is only one God." Heahmund bit out. The chain around his neck was even more sharp than his tongue.

Ivar continued, arrogance dripping off each word. "But I have seen other gods. I have seen the Odin, the All-Father, with my own eyes."

"They are the devil's work. He conjures up demons and fallen angels to beguile us. And lead us into evil."

"What is evil?" The raven-haired heathen asked in a haughty undertone.

Heahmund sighed, dropping his chin back to his chest. His legs were growing weary beneath him, having been chained here for hours already and he saw no true reprieve in sight. "Slaughter of the innocent." He answered in a whisper.

"You slaughter when it suits you."

Rage filled the Bishop at the way this heathen turned his words, how he taunted with that arrogant smirk on his face, how he disrespected the one true God. "He who chooses to be heathen is not innocent." He shouted, pointing his finger in condemnation at the ungodly sinner beside him. Then for a moment he wondered if this was why he had been captured by the Danes. If this was all the Lord's mysterious work. His tone softened as he continued to stare at his captor. "But I could show you the ways of God, to salvation and eternal life."

But it was all in vain.

He chuckled darkly, almost as if shocked that the bishop would even try to convert him. "Do you know who I am?"

"Of course. You are Ivar…. son of Ragnar Lothbrok. Many there are that fear you."

"But not you."

"No, I fear no man….no matter how wicked." Heahmund allowed the sneer to taint his voice at the end. For it was true. No matter the horrendous stories he heard about the sons of Ragnar Lothbrok, fear never sunk its claws into him. For he followed the Will of God.

There was only one reason alone that fear gripped him, tighter than a lover, slipped beneath his skin to momentarily poison his mind…. but that reason was gone now. Dead.

The two sat in silence for several minutes, a heathen and a bishop, lost in their own thoughts. Heahmund could not help but wonder as he eyed the young man, if this was all some bloody, gruesome game to him. Was he even capable of remorse? Fear? Mercy? Love? Or had the fires of hell already scourged them from his soul?

The shackles around his wrists grew heavier by the hour. The chain around his neck chaffed. The cold mud beneath him seeped into his trousers, slowly injecting a chill into his bones, amplified by the chains keeping him bound.

"I beseech thee, Lord. Save me or show me why I am here. Grant me Your mercy. Do not cast be aside into the darkness. Grant me Your light so I may see." He murmured to himself.

The sound of a door opening just off to the side of Ivar could be heard but Heahmund paid no mind. He knew his time on earth was dwindling, for how much longer would the heathen bother to keep him? Surely, he would be killed in a cruel and painful way. When he first took up the sword to defend his faith and his people against the Danes, he assumed that was how his life would end. On a battlefield somewhere, surrounded by blood and screams, with his cross upon his chest and sword in hand. Not like this. Not a prisoner to be tortured for amusement.

A soft voice hesitantly spoke up from behind Ivar. "My prince, your brother…."

That voice. Oh, that voice had haunted his dreams, but lately it had only been heard in his nightmares. She would beg for his help to save her, only to witness her dragged away or killed before his eyes, chains or ropes or fire keeping him imprisoned, unable to do more than scream her name. More than once he had jerked awake to find tears streaming down his cheeks.

Now his head jerked up, ears attuned, desperate to see or hear her again, to confirm she was alive and not just a hallucination. To know all his nightmares were wrong.

He prayed his nightmares were wrong.

Ivar beckoned her closer with an annoyed huff and a roll of his eyes. Then she appeared, as if from the mist. His fears confirmed. Her green dress was ripped and filthy. Her hair matted and unwashed. But it was the dark circles that lay beneath her dimmed eyes, the bruise on her cheek and the split lip that adorned her face which brought his rage to the surface, festering in his gut. His hands clenched into fists at the sight of her and images of what all she must have endured played in his mind.

The heathen snatched the cup from her outstretched hands, mumbling something in his own language. "Go." He arrogantly dismissed her with a wave of his hand as if she was some pest he detested.

As she turned to walk away, her eyes drifted over to Heahmund and she froze. Time stood still as their gazes locked. He watched as a series of emotions passed over her face- surprise, relief, concern, fear, worry- they all took their turn to shine from her eyes. He wondered if his own expression mirrored hers. Her name, that name that tasted like the sweetest of honey on his lips, danced on his tongue. How he wanted to pull her into his arms and never let her out of his sight. To promise no one would ever hurt her again. To press his lips to hers tenderly. His chest constricted as he witnessed a single tear slip from her right eye, washing away a streak of grime on her cheek. His own tears burned in his eyes, threatening to betray him. Here she was. Alive. But mistreated by these heathens. Something he could never forgive.

"You know this…. priest, thrall?" Ivar's amused voice broke their staring, like a bucket of cold water suddenly thrown on them.

She jerked, brought back to the here and now, that her and Heahmund were not alone. Wordlessly, she lowered her head and nodded.

"Ah, I see." Ivar's shrewd blue eyes jumped between the two as his smirk widened. "You may go to him. I will allow it for now. Ah! And here, give him this." He held the untouched cup out to her.

Hesitantly, she reached out and took it, as if expecting it to get thrown in her face at the last minute. Keeping her gaze downcast, she walked the few steps to stand before Heahmund. Once more, she peered over to the side at Ivar, silently requesting his permission before proceeding.

"Let him drink! I am certain he is quite…. thirsty." The heathen chuckled, playing with his bottom lip.

"Y/n…" Heahmund started quietly but she interrupted him.

"Drink, please." Immediately, she brought the cup to his lips and carefully helped him to drink. At the slow pace she allowed the water to flow, it was perfect to quench his thirst but not fast enough he would choke on it. A skill she must have learned from the many times she was forced to take care of her ailing father. The whole time, he locked his gaze on her face, refusing to look away for even a moment. For fear of her vanishing. For fear of missing even a second of this cherished time in her presence. Even if he was bound in chains like a common criminal.

"Are you well?" He asked once she pulled the empty cup away from his mouth, keeping his voice low for some resemblance of privacy under the heathen's scrutinizing gaze.

She peeked at Ivar out of the corner of her eye before whispering back. "I'm alive."

"Are they treating you well?"

Her gaze dropped to her hands, clutching the cup.

And her silence burned through Heahmund like a wildfire. He knew it was foolish to ask as soon as he uttered the question. The evidence on her face was proof enough. But he had hoped for a different answer. Wanted a different answer. And the truth ate away at him like leprosy. For chained here…. a prisoner…. a prize…. he could do nothing to save her. To protect her.

His nightmare coming to pass.

He swallowed thickly, emotions clogging his throat. "Stay strong, y/n. The Lord knows the challenges we face and will give us strength to endure. We are not forgotten."

She nodded, hastily wiping away another tear that slipped down her cheek. "What…. what about you? What will happen to you?"

Her concern for him warned his soul more than a fire and hot meal ever could. Even amidst her circumstances, she worried for him. She cared about him. Heaven certainly lost an angel when she was born onto this earth. For she was far too good to not be one of the Lord's divine beings.

"I'm deciding if I want to keep him alive," Ivar interrupted, tone all together smug and cocky, "or crucify him, like your god. A fitting ending for his priest."

She inhaled sharply, eyes widening at the revelation.

Heahmund wanted to comfort her, but words failed him as he gazed upon her. For his life was no longer in his own hands. A fate he despised. Before he could speak words that would hopefully bring her some solace, the heathen spoke again.

"Thrall, come here." Ivar commanded. She walked over to him with visible trepidation, cup still clutched in her hands. Instantly, he grabbed her wrist when she was close enough, the movement as sharp and fast as a viper. The cup dropped and bounced on the ground as she gasped. In the next moment he yanked her down to kneel before him, a soft cry slipping from her lips that seemed to spur him on, a malicious smile forming on his face. So reminiscent of a hungry wolf cornering a young lamb, the taste of blood already tainting the air. An allure the wolf feasted on shamelessly.

Heahmund could taste iron in his mouth from how hard he bit his tongue to keep from demanding her release. He could only watch helplessly as this devil toyed with her.

"Hmmm…. what is your name, thrall?"

She said, voice barely above a whisper, eyes firmly planted on the dirt. "Y/n."

Complacently, the heathen tipped her chin up, staring into her eyes for long enough she began to tremble. He chuckled, moving her face side to side and scanning her body like examining an item for sale at the market. "And who owns you now?"

"Ha…. Haakon, my prince."

"Ah. Haakon. A good warrior by our people. But I have heard he is not so kind to his thralls. Hmm?" He stated, but this time his smug gaze was directed at Heahmund, waiting for a reaction. Waiting to see what his latest prize would do.

At his statement, she flinched and it felt like a flaming sword was driven through Heahmund's gut. He made no appeal to mask his hatred nor fury, his eyes hard as stone as he met the heathen's unnatural blue eyes. In his mind, he swore to himself that he would never forget the name she spoke with such a mixture of fear and despair. Somehow, he would kill this man. God, help him.

Ivar grinned, still focused on his prisoner, even as he traced a finger over her split bottom lip, tears springing forth from her eyes. "Maybe I'll buy you from him. What do you think?"

She just stared at the ground, body trembling. Completely submissive. Entirely surrendered.

"You may go. Tell my brother I will join him soon." Ivar said, releasing her chin.

Carefully she scrambled to her feet and took a hasty step back. Her watery gaze flickered over to Heahmund's, meeting his eyes. Oh, how he wished these chains no longer held him. He would slaughter every Dane in York in holy recompense for the abuse she endured. He would shield her with his body, keeping her close until the fear bled from her like poison from a wound, until she was the sweet, vibrant woman he knew.

"I said leave, thrall."

As if startled out of a dream, she jumped at Ivar's shout. Then spun around on her heel and disappeared the way she had come. The cup laid forgotten on the ground, having rolled away.

The bishop dropped his head to his chest. What was left of his heart slowly eroded away inside of him. Why must she be made to suffer at the hands of these devils? Was this why the Lord allowed him to be captured? To save her?

"Y/n…." The heathen rolled her name on his tongue, voice inquisitive with his following question. "What is she to you?"

The Saxon remained silent. He owed his captor nothing. The heathen had no right to say her blessed name, let alone touch her. He was evil, darkness, something to be destroyed. To touch y/n, her perfect soul, was a crime against all that was holy and good.

"Ah, you act like she is nothing but I could see it in your eyes. You want her. Like a man wants a beautiful woman. But more than that…. she means something to you. So, answer my question or maybe I'll call her back and slit her throat in front of you."

Heahmund licked his lips, debating what to say. "She is the Virgin Mary."

"She's a virgin?" Ivar scoffed. "I doubt that's the truth anymore."

"No," he snapped, glaring at Ivar before turning back to stare straight ahead. "She is holy and pure. She is the epitome of benevolence, something you would never understand. She is a soft breeze on a scorching day, the spring rain come to bring new life. She is the candle of fond memories, keeping away the dark thoughts that threatened to cloud my mind. She is…. y/n."

"You love her."

"How could I not?" He sighed, for that was the truth. No matter how hard he tried, prayed for deliverance, she had wormed her way into his heart and planted herself there like an oak tree.

"Well, if Haakon owns her, then she will be leaving soon to journey to Norway with us." Ivar stared at him for a moment before looking away. They sat in silence for several minutes before Ivar laughed and shifted from a sitting position. "Prepare yourself, Bishop Heahmund, you are coming on a journey with us."

"I am already on a journey." He called out, voice unwavering.

"Aren't we all."

He watched the heathen crawl away like an overgrown snake, deceptive and cunning, wondering what this journey meant for him. What it meant for her. Closing his eyes, shutting out his surroundings, he focused on the feeling of her kerchief tucked away under his tunic. Close to his heart.

*****

The crowd jeered around him, a sound beating against his mind like a hammer. The stench of the ocean clogged his nostrils, the fish guts spilled on the docks and ground, the masses of unrighteous bodies pressing closer to have their chance to spit at him. For once, he was grateful that he did not understand their language so his ears would remain untainted by their insults and taunts.

The flaxen-haired Ragnarsson led the parade with Heahmund being the center of attention. Like a spectacle for all to see. A large blond Viking pulled on the chains binding his hands, chuckling at making Heahmund stumble drunkenly to keep his feet beneath him in the unsteady mud. The bishop spat out a mouthful of blood onto the mud. The cut on the inside of his lip a courtesy from a punch to the mouth by the brutish Viking who currently held the chains.

Stubbornly, he yanked on the chain binding him, refusing to let himself be dragged around like some stray mongrel. The brute growled at the Saxon and gave a strong pull, disrupting Heahmund's already unstable footing. In the next moment, he found himself face-first in the revolting mud. The cheers of the crowd exploded around him to new heights at his predicament.

Through sheer determination and a refusal to appear weak to these ungodly wretches, he rose back to his feet. Will unbroken. Though he walked through the valley of death, he refused to fear the evil around him. The Lord would provide a way. Somehow, he would be delivered. Carefully he wiped the mud from his face on his sleeve.

Once back on his feet, he could see Ivar sitting at a nearby table. Although from the way he reclined, he acted more as if it was a throne. The infuriating smug look on his face as he met Heahmund's gaze. All resemblance of vulnerability and unveiled candor from the prior night was gone. Replaced with the arrogant warlord who sentenced people to death with laughter on his lips.

All night his mind wrestled with their conversation from the prior night. How could he fight for this godless heathen? Surely the Lord would smite him for that? Even if in the fighting he only killed more heathens. Was he not also a man of peace like the Lord Jesus Christ? Which was more important right now? Which one was stronger in times like these…. the olive branch or the sword?

He walked with confidence until he noticed y/n standing just behind Ivar. His feet faltered for a moment, shocked to see her. Since their encounter in York, he had only snatched a glimpse of her as he was being loaded onto the boats. His mind wandered to her fate more than he cared to admit. There were many times as he sat alone, he gently toyed with the kerchief she made for him, touching the periwinkle flower sewed onto it. His thoughts on her and all his regrets.

Now his eyes quickly scanned her, noting the different dress she wore. Something rough and bland he had noticed other slaves wearing. She appeared no worse. The bruise on her cheek was gone, the split lip healed. Her hands clasped before her as if waiting for instruction as her eyes followed him. When they finally met, a flood of relief and concern passed between them. For no words needed to be spoken to understand the predicament they both were in. Both of their fates were no longer in their control, only in the Lord's and their captors'.

He could not help but wonder why she was here? To witness his shame? His death? What game was Ivar playing?

As he watched her, his mind returned to his short burst of despair earlier. How he had called out to the Lord for deliverance. But if the Lord delivered him from the hands of these heathens…. would the Lord deliver her also? But did not the Lord send angels to protect the Virgin Mary as she carried Jesus in her womb? How could he then abandon y/n in her hour of need? For it was unthinkable to leave her alone in their clutches. And seeing her now, dressed as a slave, at the beck and call of the blood-thirsty Ragnarsson, Heahmund would rather slit his own throat than leave her alone.

Determination saturating his veins, he tried to move closer towards Ivar but as he took a step, the brutish Viking held him back with an animalistic grunt.

Ivar waved a hand. "Let him approach, Haakon."

For a moment, Heahmund froze, his blood boiling at the name. This name he swore he would always remember. He turned to stare at the brute with a newfound understanding, fury a living thing beneath his skin. This was the man who mistreated the one most precious to him. An unforgivable sin. A heinous crime. And with the mischievous glint in Ivar's eyes, the bishop knew the prince had purposefully orchestrated for them to meet. Tearing his fiery gaze away from the brutish Viking, he walked over to stand before Ivar like a convict awaiting judgment.

"Shhhh…." Ivar hushed the crowd, his voice carrying with an air of authority. "Now will decide if you fight for us." Grabbing the knife out of the table from beside him, he continued. "Or whether I kill you." He paused, pressing the knife to Heahmund's chest. When he spoke next, his voice was low, a harsh truth only to be heard between them. "Nothing is keeping you alive but me."

The tip of the knife pressed against Heahmund's jerkin, not a threat but a promise depending on the bishop's choice. With his quiet sigh, he peered past Ivar to look at y/n one more time. One of her hands covered her mouth, eyes wide with fear. Only now was Heahmund able to see the red marks on her wrist, marking of chains, ones he knew he carried also.

Without hesitation, the Saxon warrior-priest whispered back, "If I fight for you, y/n goes free."

Ivar leaned closer, smirk growing on his lips. "If you fight for me…. I will give her to you."

"Hmmm…." Heahmund's gaze dropped down to the knife still touching his sternum for a second before returning to meet Ivar's penetrating gaze. "Why don't you give me the knife?"

The manic excitement in Ivar's eyes should have scared Heahmund, but right now he needed blood on his hands. With a wicked grin, Ivar handed the knife over, as if already knowing what was to occur next. He accepted the knife with a huff, surprised Ivar gave it to him. Both smiled darkly at one another, the draw and lust for blood staining their lips. Revenge- a language they both spoke fluently.

Slowly Heahmund turned around, the knife pressed to his sternum like he was about to take his own life. Aware of the crowd's eyes on him, he stepped away from Ivar, back into the street. Closer to the brute Viking.

Haakon began yelling in his thickly accented English. "Die! Are you afraid?" He sneered, getting right into the bishop's face. "Do it! Coward. Do it!"

Without a second thought, Heahmund slid the knife home into the Viking's neck. Blood spurting out, coating his hand gripping the knife. As the heathen gurgled, he spat blood onto the heathen's face. The blood on his face was for the punch Heahmund received from him. The knife, though, that was for her. His gift to her. To deliver her from the abuse of the ungodly. He could see death sinking its claws into the Viking, latching itself onto the man's soul to drag him to Hell. With that he let the man drop limply to the mud and threw the knife to the ground nearby.

He gazed over the silenced crowd with his piercing eyes, weaponless once again, and curious if one would fight him for revenge for Haakon. They stared back at him, a mixture of shock and anger on many of their faces. A slow clap and madden laughter startled him. He turned back to see Ivar clapping with an unhinged smile.

"He will fight with us!" Ivar yelled, arms outstretched as if in victory.

The crowd cheered. An example of how fickle a mob can be. As he arrived, being led like an animal to sacrifice, they cheered for his death. Now they cheered for his sword, to fight alongside him.

Suddenly a form slammed into him, almost knocking him off his feet. He tensed, prepared to fight until he looked down to see y/n burying her face against his chest, hands gripping his tunic. Her body trembled against his, muffled sobs reached his ears as she clung to him like a lifeline. The bishop lifted his gaze to meet Ivar's, who leaned forward with a side smirk, eyes intently watching the two. As their gazes met, Ivar made a subtle motion with his hand, a quick wave, as if telling him to accept his prize.

Careful because of the many eyes still on them and not wishing to cause her harm, he brought his bound hands around her, pulling her closer against him. Embracing her in a way he had only fantasized about. Using his body as a shield, blood staining his hands.

"You are safe now." He murmured against the top of her head, a storm of emotion whirling in his heart and mind. "You are safe, I promise. I will not let anyone hurt you again. I am here, my angel."

Silently, she looked up at him, tears streaming down her cheeks, washing away what grime had been on them. But it was the relief and adoration in her eyes that made him freeze. How she beheld him as if a miracle or answer to her prayers. A reverence in her gaze but also joy intermingled.

His heart constricted in his chest; air momentarily cut off by the strong emotion stirring within him. For he knew with every fiber of his being as he gazed down at her, he would do anything to protect her. Would travel any sea to keep her. Fight any army with just his sword by his side. Even sell his own soul to the devil to see her safe.

Glancing up at Ivar and the manic smile on his mouth, Heahmund wondered if he had done just that.

#sophies500 #vikings #vikings fanfiction #vikings fandom #vikings ivar #bishop heahmund #heahmund #bishop heahmund x reader #heahmund x reader #ivar the boneless #ivar ragnarsson #ivar's heathen army #vikings imagine #bishop heahmund imagine #mzwrites

169 notes · View notes

mirkwoodshewolf · 3 years

Text

Guardian of Creatures; AU! Queen x oc female x reader Chap. 13

*Author’s note*

Well been awhile since I did an update for this series but here I am with another update! This time we’re gonna turn back the clock and find out what happened to our gang of mistfits when Serafina left them. So as I told you all before, Oded Fehr plays an allied wizard for John and Serafina, but now we get introduced to a new THREAT to our heroes. So I hope you all enjoy this chapter and until next time :)

Taglist:

@plethora-of-things

@waddles03

@psychosupernatural

@ixchel-9275

@simonedk

@queen-paladin

@queensdivas

@queendeakyy

@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels

@glitter-at-the-panic

@kinole009x

@geek-and-proud

@wormzteef

_________________________________________________________

Chapter 13,

The Ambush

*2nd Person POV. The morning after Serafina leaves*

The next morning you awoke to the desert sun shining in your tent.

“What do you mean she’s gone!?” you hear John’s voice snap with anger. You peek out of your tent to see the boys all standing around under the desert sun but Serafina was nowhere to be seen. John stood in front of Freddie, his hands fuming with his purple magic while his sons Seraffel and Thor stood behind their father, the same look of anger across their faces.

“I’m saying what is true. She’s gone on her own path.”

“What is it with you fucking Nagas and your riddle talk!? Where exactly did our mom go!? And I swear to god if you don’t start making any sense I’ll freeze you so bad you won’t start to thaw till the next Ice Age!” Seraffel warned.

“Always barking but never biting. Really Seraffel you’ve threatened me thousands of times since your hatching and you’ve yet to hold up to that threat. No matter how old you were.” Freddie spoke nonchalantly, like he didn’t even care for the ice dragon’s threat. You walk up to Brian and ask him.

“What’s going on here?”

“It would appear that Serafina has gone off on her own somewhere. John and Serafina have rarely been apart from one another, the longest I’ve seen them be apart is when Roger and I were first sent by Freddie to save them.”

“Freddie please just—just tell us where our mom’s at? She could get captured or-or killed!” Thor pleaded.

“Your mother can handle herself. Right now she needs to go on this path on her own.”

“Fred normally I would agree on with what you say but this is no time for a pissing contest! Grindelwald knew we were in New York, who’s to say that the rest of his family or even his spies could be out here looking for us right now!? What if her power alone is not enough?” Roger said as he paced back and forth with worry.

“For someone who claims to care for her you seriously underestimate her Roger dear.” Roger halted in his spot to stare at the Naga. “Serafina’s path lies on a different path than ours for the moment. This part of her journey will come to pass with what we need for the final phase of ending Grindelwald’s followers once and for all. Now will the four of you get your heads out of your arses and understand Serafina is more than capable of taking care of herself and isn’t some fragile little maiden that always needs protecting!”

Freddie’s eyes glowed a fearsome yellow and his voice grew deeper and more snake like.

“Now then, we should reach the Medjai coven by the sun’s highest point if we leave now. Burn the tents and get rid of any evidence of our trail here.” Freddie slithered onward.

As the boys went on with Freddie’s orders, you then ask Brian once more.

“Will she be okay?”

“Serafina is unlike any other witch I’ve met before. Elf or otherwise. She has power unlike anything I’ve ever seen. If I had to say who I should be more worried for, I’d say it’s whatever poor unfortunate soul crosses her path.”

Once the site was cleared up of any of your traces, you continued onward to the Medjai covenant. It felt like an eternity had passed until finally as you all came up over a hill and just down below, several village stood there in the middle of the desert.

“We’ve arrived.” John spoke as he urged his black stallion onward. You followed behind him, then his sons, Brian and Freddie, while Roger flanked in the rear.

As you all approached the entrance into the village, several men in black garb with most of their faces covered, held up their wands towards you guys ready to strike.

“Waqaf!” one of the guards spoke up. Your horse whinnied and reared on it’s hind legs. You held onto the reins as tight as you could as you tried to calm your horse down.

“Whoa, whoa boy whoa easy!” you tell your horse. John’s horse nickered and anxiously paced forward and back.

“We’re not spies! We’re friends with your covenant leader Ardeth Bay. My name is John Deacon and these creatures are my friends.” The guards looked at one another suspiciously when a stern but warm voice proclaimed.

“Let them pass!” soon riding on top of a camel was an Egyptian man with long black hair, two Arabic tattoos on each cheek and one across his forehead, and chocolate brown eyes. He sported a mix of a goatee and beard which went well along his strong jawline.

He was a big man on the muscular side, probably standing at around 6ft, maybe a couple inches. But it was the way he just seem to carry himself that made it seem like he was a true leader, a chieftain maybe.

“This man is under my protection. Anyone who tries to even lay a curse upon him shall face immediate exile, do I make myself clear?” the way his voice commanded these guards, it just made goosebumps come across your arms. The guards put their wands away and bowed with their left feet forward and their right arms crossed over their chests, hands going right over their hearts.

He then turned to John and soon his camel and John’s stallion stood face to face of each other.

“Welcome back my friend, it’s been a long time.”

“I wish the circumstances could be better Ardeth.”

“Well, it is most definitely an upgrade from being lost in the desert for days on end without water and hardly any food.” John chuckled embarrassingly but then the two men clasped hands with each other in a firm handshake.

Then they taking back their hands, kissing the side of their index fingers and placing it on their foreheads before placing their hand before their lips once again (must be an Arabic greeting).

“You and your friends have had a long journey not only from your last hideout but also across the desert. Come, satisfy your hungry and quench your thirst. And for two of your companions, regain their energy.” Ardeth said the last part as he looked to Roger and Seraffel who both looked practically exhausted.

“Thank you Ardeth. We appreciate you giving us a place to rest and regroup.” John thanked him. Ardeth bowed his head before urging his camel forward. You all follow behind the leader of the Medjai sorcerers and as you enter the village, you can see hundreds of Arabic witches, wizards and young children running about going about their day.

Some were selling robes, others had potions and spell books for sale, animals were also being sold at what almost looked like a petting zoo setup but it also had dogs, cats and falcons in their cages. Horses and camels were also on sale at the shop, each wearing a price board around their necks as they went about either pacing around the fence, drinking their water, or eating the food provided for them.

This entire marketplace was just a buzz with people. As you passed by, some of the Medjai wizards and witches looked at you and your friends. Some were in awe, others were skeptical, and the rest held respect as they bowed their heads to you and the others.

Soon you arrived at a large tent. It seemed a pretty good decent size (maybe about 8ft long and 13ft. wide) for all of you to fit inside. The front flaps were a stripped pattern of cream and, at least to you, an earthy kinda brownish-red. The rest of the tent was an earthy tone of dark green and brown stripped pattern.

You all unmounted off your rides and Ardeth walked up to the tent and opened it up for you all.

“Enter my friends, eat and make yourselves at home.” John bent down to take his shoes off before entering inside the tent. Brian did the same thing and gave Ardeth an Elvish thank you by placing his hand over his heart and bowing his head. Ardeth did the same motion and Brian entered inside.

Roger, Thor and Seraffel, then Freddie followed behind after Brian. You undid the last of your laces on your shoes and set them down beside the rest of the shoes that aligned the tent.

“You are the human savior the Naga Freddie has foreseen, aren’t you?” he said to you.

“Well—I don’t think I’d go so far as to say that. I mean yeah I did save John and Serafina’s sons from being imprisoned for all eternity but—other than that I’m not really all that special.”

“I disagree. You have a strong powerful aura within you. You may not yet realize it but it’s in there.” His strong, calloused hand gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze of reassurance. “Every creature on this earth whether mortal or mythical has that power. It’s only up to those brave enough to seek it out. Not all heroes are of just one image.”

He walked back over to the flap of the tent and opened it up for you to walk inside. You enter in and soon Ardeth follows right behind you.

Whoa! This tent was bigger on the inside! Various and beautiful kaleidoscope-like patterned quilts hung along the walls of the tent. There was a pool at the center of the tent and that’s where you saw both Seraffel and Roger, half naked, in the pool rehydrating themselves after being under the hot African sun for the past couple of days.

Thor was just drying off his wet hair (probably just getting out of the pool himself) wearing a white Arabic tunic. Freddie was curled up under the shade fast asleep, while Brian and John were conversing quietly to themselves.

“Hey (n/n) get in the water’s amazing!” Seraffel called out to you.

“It was amazing till you nearly froze it over yah overgrown icicle!” Roger snapped.

“Oh whatever you’re made out of water yourself you’re fine.” Seraffel waved off nonchalantly. You shook your head at seeing those two argue pettily.

“Maybe later guys.” You gave them an answer.

“I apologize for what happened with my guards out front. We’ve been needing to increase security for our coven.” Ardeth said as he went over to the kitchen to make some drinks for us.

“We understand Ardeth. My grandfather—is resilient.” John spoke lowly.

“He is. Unfortunately, it was not your grandfather or his followers that I was referring to.” At hearing this, most of you all look up at the leader of the Medjai sorcerers confused.

“What—do you mean then?” questioned Thor.

“It would seem Grindelwald has finally convinced an even greater foe to side with him.”

“Who?” you ask.

“The Shadow Sorcerers.” At hearing that name, everyone in the room went frigid with fear. Even Freddie’s eyes had opened at hearing their name.

“Who are the Shadow Sorcerers?” you ask.

“A separate branch of one of the most powerful and most dangerous wizards and witches. They branched off during the time of Thomas Deacon, they viewed his radical thinking of submitting themselves under the Sorcerer Supreme’s rule unlawful. So they branched off, became their own branch of sorcerers.” Freddie first explained before John joined in.

“Once my grandfather became Sorcerer Supreme, he tried to sway the Shadow wizards not as pawns, but an ally. A secondhand ally you may call it. Some of the Shadow covens agreed and allowed some of their students to transfer into our school. To study our way of magic. But they made for certain that they would never submit themselves under the rule of the Sorcerer Supreme. At least not without something to gain from it.”

“They value their pride more than anything else in the world. But it would seem some of the Shadow covens have decided to go fully under Grindelwald’s thumb. Their source of magic comes from the most ancient and most darkest of all magic. Using their very own shadows as an extension of themselves in order to take down any enemy.” Ardeth said.

“The Shadow coven takes their inspiration of their magic based on the animals that you humans refer to as Nocturnal animals. Even basing each specific family off the Latin name of said animal. I’ve even seen the Shadow Sorcerers even control other beings to their will by using their own shadows against them. A few of my people before the massacre learned that the hard way.” Freddie said.

“How many Shadow sorcerer covens are there?” asked Thor.

“There are 10 main covens of Shadow Sorcerers, and then depending on the Nocturnal animal they are inspired to emulate, the covens get subdivided into classes based off the species. The covens with the most subclass are the Felines, Rodents, and Mammalia clans.” John answered his youngest son.

“So that means we’re screwed.” Seraffel exclaimed angrily.

“Not necessarily my young ice dragon.” Ardeth added. “I said that some of the covens have joined Grindelwald. You see there are some that have remained either undecisive or wish to remain neutral. But I’m afraid the ones that did join along with Grindelwald, are one of the most strongest Shadow Sorcerers of all.”

“Which coven classes joined alongside him?” Brian asked. Ardeth sighed and said.

“I—truthfully do not know the exact number. But the one that has been skulking around here lately come from the Corvus clan.” You noticed John clenching his hand into a fist and even saw it tremble.

“So what do we do now?” asked Seraffel.

“Right now my friends you rest. And I strictly ask that you do not leave this tent as the sun sets. The shadow wizards tend to do their hunting at night. And whatever you do; Never. Turn on. The lights.” With that, Ardeth left you guys alone to your thoughts.

“Damn. Siding with the Shadow Sorcerers. Grindelwald must be getting desperate if he wanted to ask for their help.” Roger said.

“Does Grindelwald fear the Shadow Sorcerers?”

“To an extent. My grandfather is many things, a coward is definitely not one of them. But he is aware of who is powerful than even him. He must’ve sueded them to a deal that not even they could refuse.” John said. He lowered his head down to his hands and run his fingers through his hair anxiously. “I just hope and pray to Merlin that Serafina’s at least not in Egypt anymore. Or at least nowhere where a Shadow wizard could be.”

“She’ll be fine John. She’s stronger than you realize.” Brian comforted the anxious young wizard.

For the rest of the day, you all rested and pretty much stayed inside the tent because after traveling the desert for 2 days none of you even thought about wanting to go back outside.

When the sky became dark, it was as Ardeth said, no lanterns or lights were coming on in the camp. Not even lights from the tents or houses nearby were up.

“Man, Ardeth wasn’t kidding. Not a single Medjai has their lights on.” You said as you came back into the tent.

“Then we must do the same.” Brian said. He went up to one of the lanterns and turned off the flame candle inside. Roger did the same to his side of the room, and on and on until finally the entire tent was nothing but pitch black.

You adjusted yourself on the soft red velvet couch (well it felt more like a bed with how big it was).

“Goodnight everyone.” You say. They all reply with a goodnight and soon you all fall into a silent sleep.

‘(Y/n).’ a ghostly whisper calls out to you. You moan and try to go back to sleep but the voice calls out to you again. ‘(Y/n)~’ the soft gentle coo of this man’s voice reminded you a lot of your grandfather. The grandfather you lost back in the War.

He had moved to a small town of Leuven in Belgium after remarrying a woman named Pamela Janssens. She was nice and she really helped your grandfather out of his depression when your grandma died of a heart attack. He enjoyed the Belgium countryside and the people were nice to him even from being from America.

But when the German troops invaded Leuven, you were told by your mother (who was the daughter of your grandfather) that he had been shot and killed by a German soldier and Pamela had been raped before being brutally murdered and then their house was burned to the ground.

Your granddad was like a superhero to you. Even in his old age, he never let anything bring him down. That’s why he was able to still pick you up even as you became a teenager. When you received word of his death from Pamela’s sister, it crushed your entire world.

‘(Y/n)~’ the voice called to you again. No it—it couldn’t be him. There’s no way.

“Granddad?” you whisper as you sit up.

‘It’s me.’ You gasp and quickly hop off the couch. ‘I’m here.’ The voice called out again. You peek outside of the tent but it’s nothing but pitch black outside. The crescent shape moon hardly gave off any light but it was then a small blue flame stood before you. It danced and you swore that it had eyes staring up at you.

A trail of them soon popped out, leading away from the village. Something in your gut didn’t seem right but there was a magical force that was just beckoning you to go forward.

‘Hummingbird. It’s me.’ No way…..it—it was him. Only one person ever called you hummingbird and that was your grandfather. You then find yourself walking out of the tent and followed the trail of blue flames, each one of them disappearing as you walked through them.

*3rd Person POV*

Freddie’s eyes snapped open as he looked up in time just to see (Y/n) leaving the tent.

“Roger! Roger!” Freddie hissed quietly. Roger groaned and turned his back on Freddie, burying himself under his pillow. “Thor! Seraffel!” the dragons only kept snoring softly, well Thor was. Seraffel was mumbling incoherently in his sleep.

Rolling his eyes, Freddie decided it was up to him to get their human savior back. He peeked his head out of the tent, his tongue sticking out to taste the air, hoping to get a scent of where they had gone.

He left the tent and soon spotted some fresh footprints leading away from the village.

“Damnit!” he slithered forward following the footprints as fast as he could, hoping it wasn’t too late.

A few feet from the village, he soon heard the sound of wings flapping. Quickly finding a rocky ledge to hide under, he soon saw 4 figures land down a few yards away from him and soon the figures of 4 men in black robes stood there.

However one of them kept out his black feather wings out and he spoke to the three men.

“With them separated it’ll be easier to take them down. But leave them alive—for now.” The three wizards soon took off on foot now to find (Y/n). Each going a different direction in hopes of ambushing them.

Freddie kept his eyes on the leader who merely just stood there, scouring the entire desert sand. There was something off about this Shadow sorcerer just standing there, he had to be plotting something.

Suddenly out of nowhere Freddie felt three steel blades being shot into his back. He arched himself but as he turned around he was caught by surprise as the figure of the leader fired some type of gas at him, all the awhile saying BOO!

Freddie swatted the air but it was too late. His vision soon started flashing back to the day his entire race was killed.

“Aww, having trouble?” the leader’s voice (sounding thunderous, haunting, almost demonic). Freddie saw the leader’s eyes glowing the same haunting blue as Thomas Riddle Deacon’s eyes. The very same cold blue eyes that stared back at him as he slaughtered each and every Naga. “Watch the stars, have a drink!”

Freddie began thrashing around trying to get rid of this horrifying memory but all he kept seeing was blood spurting, the flash of green light, and the agonizing screams of his family. He soon felt some sort of liquid being dumped onto him as the Shadow Sorcerer continued to taunt him.

“You look like a snake who takes himself too seriously.” His palm soon sparked out a blue fireball and as Freddie finally went calm for a split second to look up at the wizard, he told Freddie. “You want my opinion? You need to lighten up.” He threw the blue fireball at Freddie and soon he was being burned alive.

The leader soon disappeared into the shadows as Freddie screamed in pure agony. The blue flames eating away at his coils like a hot grinder slowly and torturously burning away every inch of his skin. Somehow he managed to send a telepathic cry for help to John who immediately woke up.

“Freddie!” John shot up exclaiming which soon woke everyone up. Brian’s elvish hearing soon heard Freddie’s torturous screaming.

“Come on!” everyone soon left the tent and raced to help the Naga. Suddenly all the lights in their tent came on and the shadows soon came alive.

Razor sharp teeth and red eyes surrounded them as they now felt themselves being bound by the shadows. John tried to break free but he soon heard the very same thing happening to the tent next to them. And the home after that, until the entire Medjai was either screaming in terror or with their last dying breath.

“Hello John, remember me?” soon entering the tent with Ardeth also trapped within his grasp was a lean stature man with short black hair, ice blue eyes, a strong jawline and skin as pale as the moon. He looked to be about his mid-30’s possibly even 40s. But it was his voice.

His voice that was soft and lulling like a lullaby, but it held an icy, haunting tone to it as well.

“Jonathan Corvus.” He smirked.

“It really has been too long. How’s little Fina been?” John snarled softly but soon let out a groan as he felt himself being squeezed tighter by Johnathan’s magic. “And you know, it is very surprising to not see her here with you. I mean back at school you guys were—heh stuck together like glue.”

“Dad, you actually know this son of a bitch?” Seraffel asked.

“Now that is quite rude. Didn’t your parents ever teach you manners?” A shadow spear shot out and struck Seraffel in his thigh. He let out a painful scream.

“Seraffel!” Thor screamed. Seraffel groaned and growled in pain.

“Dragons always were quite brutish for my taste. But I guess that’s why you and sweet, sweet Fina adopted these monsters. Freaks till the end.” The shadow spear slowly went deeper into Seraffel’s thigh. The blood now starting to ooze further down his pant leg, he threw back his head trying to hold in his agonizing screams.

“What do you want from us Corvus!?” John demanded.

“Well truthfully we were ordered to take you and your little band of monsters to see your dear old grandfather but it seems we’re one short. So—you’re coming with us till you tell us where Serafina Black is.”

The last thing any of them ever saw was pure darkness as the shadows wrapped around them till they couldn’t breathe.

*2nd Person POV*

You kept following your grandfather’s voice until you came out towards the Nile River. Whatever light from the moon directed itself into the water, almost giving it a crystal like glow to it. Panting after running so hard you couldn’t hear your grandfather’s voice anymore.

“Granddad?” you called out. “Granddad!” again nothing but silence. Suddenly something whooshed behind you. “G-Granddad?” soon a figure appears out of thin air. He had a black hooded cloak covering himself from whatever light there was and he just stood there silently for what felt like eternity. His hands slowly came up and you were frozen with fear at just who was now standing a few feet away from you.

John’s grandfather, Grindelwald Deacon.

You quickly take out John’s wand from your hip and aim it at him. Even though your hands and legs were trembling with fear you tried to stay strong.

“You stay right there! I know who you are!”

“(Y/n) (L/n). I am not here to hurt you.” His soft whisper of a voice said to you. Hearing him speak in the flashback was one thing but now that he was actually standing here before you it—it made you feel……cold. “I only want to help.”

“Help me?!” you snapped quietly.

“Yes.” He told you. “You are so very, very far away from home. Far away from everything that you know, far from those that you love.” You thought back to your family. You hadn’t even really been keeping them updated on everything since you took the job in trying to discover John and Serafina’s secret club.

No, no he’s manipulating you! You’ve seen this before with John the night Serafina’s family was slaughtered don’t. fall. For it!

“I said don’t take another step!” you warned. But your façade was easily dropping as your hand trembled even worse. And still, he kept walking closer and closer to you.

“My child, I would never see you harmed. Unlike with what the Naga has told you.” What? What is he talking about. “Dear one, it is not your fault that your very birth was planned to go along with the Naga’s plan for vengeance. It is not your fault that you were forced into this world, if you were siding alongside me I would ensure that you were free to live your life. A world where your very existence is not meant to satisfy someone else’s gain.”

Even though you wanted to strike this man down, no matter how much rage and fear was starting to build up within you…….he was right.

Everyone so far has kept calling you the ‘Human Savior’. You didn’t ask for any of this. And why did it have to be you? Sure you might have gone along with it but now—now it was starting to feel like a game to you. That your only purpose for even existing was just to satisfy Freddie’s plan.

“I—I……” you loosened your grip on your wand. Grindelwald’s hand slowly comes up and wraps his fingers around John’s wand.

“You are an innocent. So go now. Leave this place, return to the life that you know.” With that he apparated into smoke and disappeared from your view.

You debated and debated long and hard. Yes you had come this far already but—was it really worth it? Why did it have to be you? Why couldn’t someone else take this job? Clearly John and Serafina have something to gain out of saving all these creatures as well as their entire community, why did you need to be involved?

Suddenly something pierced right through your back. Although no blood spurted out from you, you still felt like something was piercing your very soul. Your right arm suddenly shot out and twisted itself inward.

What—what was happening to you? You tried to resist but each time you did, you were forced to contort and twist about until you were pulled to your knees.

“What’s…….”

“Thought you would realize just what we were? Guess Muggles really are as stupid as they come.” Soon coming out was a strong-bulky looking man who had shadow-like tentacle arms coming out from behind him, his hands seeping out a black aura (much like John and Serafina’s magical aura).

“Shadow sorcerer.”

“Oh look it does speak.” You narrowed your eyes at the insult but your eyes were forced to go wide-eyed. “Such manners, nothing but beyond neanderthal anger. Running about like starving goblins.” You soon felt yourself being lifted up into the air, still unable to gain even the slightest ounce of control back.

“What did—you do…..with my…..friends?”

“The same thing I’m about to do to you, muggle.” In a flash, the shadows shot right towards you until you were cocooned in complete blackness.

21 notes · View notes