#like saying 'I held my temper and went against my nature and never harmed you' and then trying to kill him like fuck FUCK that's terrifying

[llycaons]

claudia’s actress was fucking excellent. emmy

#will probably be thinking about that fireside scene for the rest of my life #this episode was...wow. WOW #everything that happened to her #and then returning #standing up to lestat #louis being dead to his family #the break that definitely would have happened years ago if they were human #breakup* #my GOD I knew lestat has issues but this was horrifying #though I don't think a breakup could have happened under any less violent circumstances since lestat is so...obsessed? terrified of being #left? possessive? something #he just wants to love consumingly that it causes him to act in incredibly destructive and horrifying ways #he WANTS love* #interesting that louis doesn't consider himself a victim but might that just be because he doesn't want to be seen as one who was victimized #because it definitely looks like claudia came back to encourage her father to leave lestat and when louis agreed lestat became physically #abusive #like saying 'I held my temper and went against my nature and never harmed you' and then trying to kill him like fuck FUCK that's terrifying #and she pointed out his verbally abusive and controlling behavior long before this. she saw it #iwtv lb

[for-the-sake-of-color]

for the oc meme: i’m curious about how my girl Andrie would get along with your ocs! I know you read her intro post, but in short she’s a force sensitive farm girl turned rebel who Went Through Some Shit growing up. she has a hell of a temper, but she’s also extremely loyal to the people she loves and super determined to see things through. also if you dare to lift a hand against her bf she’ll end you

thank you so much asjghgqpughqerg rgb I love Andrie she has such a facinating life from start to finish

Well Lets see!!!! so we are going to have to assume that Crisis Company managed to survive order 66 (they did not make it long enough to even see it in timelines where it happened, and their main timeline is an o66 fix-it. its complicated. if the time travel bit never happends, they likely would have deserted when Kix was taken by the separatists after the brain chips thing, with no reason to stay with the republic) in a way that leaves Andrie the same woman that she would be if history takes its natural course

Andrie is a good, strong willed person who tries to do right by those she loves. Eventually, she becomes a wise and powerful Jedi.

bit long, under the cut

I think that Mary Ann is the Oc of mine that would get along with her the best, or at least, I think they have a good shot of understanding eachother in a deeper sense, on finding common ground from their pasts. If they got off on the right foot, Mary Ann would probably like to keep her as a friend, because she's a true socialite at heart, and damn good at it too.

Mary Ann originally left her homeworld because her Mother and her Mothers and their Mothers believed it was her job, her duty, to settle down and birth as many children as she could until she was no longer fertile. That's not what she wanted out of life, though, and she didn't want to put her body through that even once. Eventually, sometime after Mary Ann took Jet and Margo on as her mates during the clone wars (humans with no chance of direct procreation with her) her mother and a cousin travel to coruscant and try to.... irrevocably ruin Jet's life to force her to come back home. Mary Ann is also fairly friendly, even if she's got a rather sharp tongue and critical eye, it takes a lot to actually get under her skin. She's also a killer cook who used to run amazing resteraunts on the coruscant upper levels before the end of the war, she says, and is always out to impress. If Andrie can dish out a compliment for her dishes direct to her face, she may find herself suddenly with more free baked goods than she can take home with her. If any harm ever came to her little family, though? well. there is a reason the Jedi held a little fear in their hearts for the rage of the gurlanins

Captain Jet would like her, almost certainly and from the start, even if she would definately disagree with his choice of company. He's got a soft spot for the tempermental ones. He's trying to be a good man, so he would understand any reservations she would have about Nihlus being... a sith, even as a leashed one. (or Heron and his... proclivities)

If they did manage to survive the order with Nihlus alive, She would probably meet the Squad in the Rebellion, because Jet would be unable to let a FASCIST EMPIRE run by a SITH LORD continue without trying to do anything at all. This war, at least, he chose to fight. He chose this cause, and he believes in it in the way he hadnt had with the republic since he was a shiny. Believes in this Skywalker kid in a way he never quite did with the mans (he considers) reckless father. And Jet would respect anyone who makes the same choice and commitment to the rebellion, regardless of why they do it, regardless of their personal opinion of him. There are bigger enemies to face than the people fighting by your side. Though if she could not find it in herself to tolerate Nihlus, he would proably try to minimize his time around her. He gets it, but that's still his 'little' brother by choice.

Nihlus.... The biggest challenge to getting along with most of my ocs is just tolerating this guy. Nihlus Brek is a tried and true old academy style sith lord. Like he was genuinely trained in an pre-kotor era sith academy (whom he then slaughtered for all of their slights against him during his training). Just because he's more of a benign sith, an archivist, and a leashed one at that, doesnt mean killing voilence murder mutilation bloodshed isnt like.... his favorite pass time.

Nihlus isn't a threat to Andrie so long as Jet says he isnt, and Nihlus will quite literally die if he disobeys Jet's orders (blood oath, a sort of sith alchemy they use to guarantee his absolute loyalty. yes, it is by choice). He doesn't hate jedi or their sympathizers on principal, they generally kept the galaxy from burning. No galaxy, nothing to archive. He respects her for being willing to fight alongside them, that it makes her strong regardless of her skill level in the force. The more she gets in touch with the light, though, the less willing he would be to cooperatively be in her presence. Lightsiders give him a tinnitus like sensation. Skyrim ninroot bass boosted ass sound effect. So great, go be a goody two shoes or whatever the fuck, just do it.... over there. He would help provide her and her academy research material about jedi from his archive, if she was so inclined to it. Sith too, though he has no interest in taking on a sith apprentice himself. The galaxy does not need more people like the emperor, or even himself, he will say by his own admission, though he he is almost entirely unrepentent for all the suffering he himself has caused so long as it has furthered his goals or protected those he cares about.

The Rest of Crisis Company are a mixed bag all depending on how... willing Andrie is to letting Nihlus' killing bloodshed maiming mutalation murder torture of imperials thing slide. Like however she reacts to watching a stormtrooper get turned inside out by a laughing sith probably would set the tone of her relationship with the rest of the company

Margo leans towards tolerance of even some of the more abhorrent of Nihlus treatment towards their enemies and their prisoners, so the more Andrie is willing to turn cheek to unnessisiarily violent cruelty, the greater liklyhood she has for getting on with Margo. She doesn't believe in Skywalker like Jet does, but she'd follow any of them into hell with only mild complaining, Cynic doesnt much care for outsiders regaurdless of their opinions. Respects her fighting skills, then later would respect her willingess to become a jedi "despite what happened to the rest of those sorry saps" he would probably say directly to her face. Would probably not form anything close to 'like' though, as he jut doent care to make friends. Lake and Torch often come as an inseparable sniper unit, even after all these years. Decidedly more willing to befriend people who chose not to tolerate Nihlus, because everthing the sith does often serves to make them a little bit squeamish, although Torch has a bit more of a stomach for it (though not by much). Lake would like more 'normal and sane' connections, and Torch would be interested in hearing about Andrie's homeworld, cause even after over 20 years he still cant quite believe a place could exist that is the antithesis of Kamino's vast oceans. Heron is.... Heron is a a brutal killer who has an occasional taste for what he butchers. He held too many lives in his hands during the clone wars and developed both a god complex about his medic shit and a taste for blood, and he's had his fair share of fun with Nihlus and some of their imperial prisoners. Even if Andrie had never seen his work directly, she's likely heard rumors. If she can get past that, though, he's actually nice enough, and surprisingly amiable to boot. Sprig is always around. and he's always listening. If crisis company has a spymaster, he's it. He's probably met the rebellions concept of Andrie long before he's met the woman himself. Also respects her regaurdless of wether or not she tolerates Nihlus, but his regaurd for likeablity would fluctiate based on how vocally she dislikes his 'little' brother, if at all. if she actively dislikes Nihlus, he listens. If she doesnt, he speaks in equal measures. He does love to just chit-chat, too.

#thanks again for the ask <3 #<3 #<3 <3 <3 #ask game #nihlus tag #jet tag #mary ann tag #margo tag #cynic tag #lake tag #torch tag #heron tag #sprig tag #crisis company tag

[wrenhyperfixates]

Stay the Night

Pairing: Loki x reader Summary: Your fear of thunderstorms leads you to invite Loki to stay the night at your place. Warnings: none A/N: Happy reading :)

Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiant @lunarmoon8 @twhiddlestonsstuff @lokistan @lowkeyorlokificrecs @gaitwae​ @whatafuckingdumbass​ @castiels-majestic-wings​ @kozkaboi​ @cozy-the-overlord​ @birdgirl90​ @myraiswack​

Disclaimer: Gif not mine

It was raining. No, that was an understatement. It was pouring; torrents of water attacked your house. You thanked the powers that may be for letting you get your leak fixed last month. You didn’t mind the rain, not really, but this was just depressing. And the strength of the storm was a little scary, too. The claps of thunder seemed to rattle the very foundation of your house, and you jumped a little every time. There was only one thing making the relentless downpour bearable. Loki.

“Darling?” he asked, concern lacing his voice. “Is there something wrong?”

You tried to relax your visibly tense body. “Yeah, I’m ok. Totally fine.”

He looked unconvinced, but kept his skepticism to himself. No need to pry, he supposed. He took your hand in his and used his thumb to rub circles on the back of it. He hoped it would help calm you. There was a time he never would have been so bold as to initiate contact, but you changed that. You’d shown him it was ok to do. With you it was, anyway.

As another boom of thunder filled the air, you squeezed Loki’s hand tighter. He gave you another concerned look. He wasn’t very fond of thunderstorms himself, and he wondered if the same thing was plaguing you. The thought reminded him of his brother, and then the Tower. He really should be getting back home, but how he so hated to leave you, his precious mortal.

You’d met him one day in the Tower. You were the receptionist on the first floor, and more often than not, Loki chose just to teleport in and out. At that time, it had only been a month since you’d gotten the job, and you’d yet to see the god. For whatever reason, he decided to use the front door that day. You stopped him as he tried to walk through the security measures without checking in.

“Excuse me, sir,” you’d said. “I’m going to need to see your Tower ID.”

“Oh, darling,” he’d said. “I do not think I need any verification. Perhaps I should introduce myself. I am Loki of Asgard.” He’d bowed and placed a kiss to the back of your hand.

“And I’m in charge of this reception desk,” you’d replied, puffing up your chest and blocking his way. He laughed a little. “And I need some ID.”

“Very well,” he’d sighed. As he searched for the little card, you let out a breath of relief. You’d never had this trouble with any of the other Avengers. He finally found it and presented it with a charming smile. “Aha! Here we are, darling. Are we all good here then?”

“Yup,” you said, swiping him through. “Have a nice day, Loki of Asgard.”

“And to you too, but I do not think I caught your name.” You gave it to him, and he’d repeated it with yet another smile. “I look forward to our next meeting.”

“Me too,” you responded with a shy grin back at him.

He made sure to always use the door after that, usually waiting until he got to the desk to pull out his ID, giving him a chance to chat with you. Your friendship quickly blossomed, and you both developed feelings for each other. Not that either of you would admit it out of fear the other wouldn’t feel the same.

Right now, he would just teleport home, since your friendly face wouldn’t be there to greet him with a smile. He didn’t really want to go, but he also didn’t want to overstay his welcome. You hadn’t given him any reason to think he had, it was just his nature to believe that was so.

“I had better take my leave before it gets too late,” he told you, making to stand up.

“No!” you shouted with an unexpected urgency. “Uh, what I mean is that you shouldn’t go out in this storm. Why don’t you stay the night here? If that’s not weird, of course.”

His heart beat a little faster as you desperately clung to his hand. Of course he could tell you that it was no trouble; with his magic, he wouldn’t have to set foot outside. But he could tell this was about something more than you were saying. Besides, who was he to turn down some more time with you?

“It is not weird at all, darling,” he replied, getting comfortable on the couch once more. “It sounds like a wonderful idea. Thank you for the offer.”

“You’re welcome.”

He brought his arms around you and hugged you to his chest, gently running his hand up and down your arm in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. From the way you relaxed against him, he supposed that it was. As the episode you were watching finished, you flipped through the channels and landed on the Food Network. The food on the screen caused an embarrassingly loud grumble in your stomach, but Loki just beamed at you.

“Are you hungry, darling?” he asked. “Perhaps I could make us a snack?”

“I’m the host,” you replied, with a shake of your head. “I should be providing the food.”

“How about we make it together then?” he suggested. “What would you like?”

“I’m craving nachos right now, if that’s fine with you.” You were met with a blank stare. “Do you not know what nachos are?” you exclaimed in disbelief.

“I am afraid I do not,” he chuckled. It never ceases to amaze you how there was always some other new Midgardian food to introduce him to. “I will gladly try them, though. You will have to take the lead on the cooking, of course.”

You nodded your head and led him to your kitchen, pulling out the ingredients you’d need. You cooked the chicken while Loki cut up the tomatoes and lettuce. You instructed Loki on how to prepare the rest of the toppings while you melted the cheese on the chips. All the delicious aromas filling the kitchen only served to make your stomach growl louder. You sheepishly giggled as the both of you loaded up the plate with everything you’d made.

“Are they ready, then?” Loki asked. “Should I try it?”

You excitedly nodded yes. He picked up a chip with all the toppings on it. He sniffed at it before closing his eyes and taking a delicate bite. His eyes shot open in excitement as the flavors exploded on his tongue. He quickly polished off the rest of the chip.

“It is delicious, darling! You are quite the talented chef, you know.”

You shifted your weight, never sure how to react to a compliment. “Thanks, Loki. You are too.”

He gestured to the plate, and you took your first bite. As you stood at the counter, chatting and eating, you almost forgot about the storm raging on outside. Well, that was until you finished the dish, and thunder sounded once more, the rain attacking with a revived fury.

“Do you wish to go to bed now?” he inquired, mistaking your masked fear as exhaustion. “I hope I have not kept you up.”

“No, not at all,” you were quick to reassure him. “Actually, I want to stay up a while longer. We could even make a pillow fort! That is if, uh, if you wanted to.”

“That sounds like a splendid idea, darling.”

You’d introduced him to the notion the first time the two of you were up late together, and he’d taken to it immediately. You’d suggested he should be the prince of the fort, but he’d insisted that you take on the role of monarch. He did the same now as you gathered the pillows, blankets, and cushions, setting to work building your haven on the floor and couch.

“Well, darling,” he said, leaning back and pulling you with him, “I think we did a pretty good job.”

“Even better than last time,” you agreed.

As you turned the TV back on, you found you were more interested in studying Loki’s face than watching the movie he’d picked. He was so beautiful, down to every last detail. Realizing the sheer number of times his perfect, pink lips had formed the word darling made your heart skip a beat or two. He’d been saying it since he first met you, but it was different now; softer, more caring. He thought what was actually a thrill induced shiver was a sign that you were cold, and carefully draped a blanket around your shoulders, holding you even closer than before.

“Are you truly feeling alright?” he fretted. “You are not feeling ill, are you?”

“No, Loki. Don’t worry. I’m totally and completely fi-”

Thunder cut off your sentence once more, and you whimpered, confirming his suspicions from earlier. Before you could explain the involuntary reaction away, Loki cupped your cheeks and looked deep into your eyes.

“Darling!” he exclaimed. “You are afraid of the thunder.”

“I am,” you wailed, burying your head in your hands as his arms wrapped around you. He held your head to his chest, rocking back and forth ever so slightly. “I am. This is so embarrassing.”

“Nonsense. I am rather terrified of it, too. Far too many unpleasant memories of Thor’s temper tantrums and combat training,” he grimaced. “Does it carry the same kind of horrid association for you?”

“Mhm. When I was a kid,” you said, taking a deep breath, “a bolt of lightning struck the tree in my front yard. It fell over, and the entire house was soon engulfed with flames. My family and I were all ok, but it was scary.”

“And understandably so!” he comforted you. “I am so sorry you went through something so horrid. I promise you are safe here with me, though. I will never let anything harm you.”

You lifted your head and looked into his eyes, only to bury it back in the crook of his neck at another clap of thunder. He rubbed your back again and comfortingly shushed you as you whimpered more, reassuring you that you would be alright. That he would make sure of it. All of a sudden, that was the only noise you were hearing. Well, that and the TV. Everything else went quiet. You dared to peek up, and saw Loki smiling at you, but with concern in his eyes.

“What happened?” you asked, perplexed by the sudden silence of the storm outside.

“I have cast a spell. A bubble of silence of sorts,” he replied. “It is a talent I developed for when things get really bad.”

“Thank you. It’s perfect.”

“You are welcome,” he whispered as you snuggled closer to him. He placed a kiss to your head and immediately feared he’d overstepped. “I am sorry, darling. I hope I have not made you uncomfortable.”

“On the contrary,” you said, pecking him on the lips, “I wouldn’t mind more.”

He recovered quickly from his shock and moved to kiss you again. It was sweet and gentle, yet you were drowning. Drowning in his scent, his taste, his everything. But you didn’t mind. If the air was taken from your lungs, this was a good way to go.

“I love you, Loki,” you said, a radiant smile gracing your face.

“And I you, my darling.”

As you kissed again, you thought that thunderstorms might not be that bad, after all.

#loki x reader #loki x you #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki #mcu loki #loki fluff #fluff #mcu fluff #marvel fluff #reader insert #gender netural reader #marvel #mcu #marvel reader insert #marvel fanfiction #loki fanfic #mcu reader insert #loki friggason #loki friggason x reader #loki laufeyson x reader #loki odinson x reader #loki oneshot #marvel oneshot #loki x y/n

[thebadboyfanclub]

Maybe It’s Better This Way (Klaus x Reader)

Requested by anon. I love writing for Klaus but it can get very tricky since there are so many scenarios that have already been done and I try to do something that isn’t that much on the forefront if that makes sense. Enjoy!

P.S I suggest you read this while listening to George Michael- Careless Whisper cause it is based on the vibe of the song

Klaus dreaded seeing (y/n), not because he hated her- quite the opposite actually- he loved her so dearly that when she got caught caught in the crossfire between him and his wonderful father Mikael, his father used her as a weapon to weaken him, luckily she survived but the only reason she got to live was because Stefan had turned her. (Y/n) was one of the few people that appreciated humanity, it gave her a sense of grounding, reminded her that she was this little thing on this huge earth. When she turned it was the new world of possibilities and Klaus felt responsible, it all became so much for him, he felt like he had to be around her 24/7 and (Y/n) saw how controlling he had gotten even though she was immortal. 

One night she left, in the middle of the night like a ghost and left the country, no one new her whereabouts for a few decades. Until she showed up to help the Salvatore brothers and defend Elena, she was informed about what Elena’s blood meant to Klaus and she owed Stefan so she braced herself for going against the man that she loved.

In classic Niklaus Mikaelson style him and his siblings had decided to throw a ball and what better way to see your ex lover than her attending your party with your new nemesis? She even went to buy a dress for the occasion, she wanted to make an entrance, it was the first time he would see her again and if he daggered her she need to go out in style. The dress was an Off the Shoulder 3D Lace Flower Sweetheart Bridal Ball Gown in pastel blue, Stefan had made fun of her for choosing an actual wedding gown nevertheless fashion is fashion and when she laid eyes on it she couldn’t find it in her heart to skip it.

She walked in the mansion she knew very well with the company of Damon, who was also dressed to impress, (Y/n) and Damon shared their love for fashion and the dry and dark humor so she needed him to keep her up and running with his clever remarks. 

“You are trembling”

“That’s because I’m scared”

She admitted right before she stepped foot on the main room, looking around and letting all the memories flood her mind, it was like no one else was in the room, as the memories took form and she saw them two running around and being a couple. A lump in her throat started to form, making it hard to breath as she tried to swallow it down, squeezing Damon’s arm as a way to signal him for her weird mix of emotions.

“You’ll be alright, if he wanted to hurt you he would have found you ages ago”

“I suppose you are right, I need alcohol”

Klaus had seen her walk in, he was on the top of the stairs, hanging in the shadows with his brother Elijah, both of them stunned by (y/n) walking in the room, arms linked with none other than Damon Salvatore and looking as stunning as always.

“After all this time”

Elijah spoke first, understanding that his little brother was still trying to comprehend the situation that was unravelling right in front of his eyes. Klaus felt like time froze, everything else leaving his sight and it was only (y/n), walking in his home in her dress, not even walking to him it seemed like she was floating around like a fairy princess  that came to bless everyone with her existence. Her ethereal presence, her untouchable beauty, the way she seized to exist brought him to this indescribable state of shock, he couldn’t even express what he was feeling when he saw her.

“Brother, are you alright?”

“No”

He finally managed to utter out. Of course he wasn’t, he had imagined this so many times yet he never thought it would happen, he had accepted it, shoved his feelings back and tried to understand why she left and now here she was, strolling in and bringing back everything he had hid for all those years.

“You don’t have to talk to her”

“I want to Elijah... I must”

His legs moved on their own, with their target being on (y/n). He had no idea what he was going to say or how he was going to react, it didn’t matter, he just needed to be next to her, to hear her voice. His mind was clouded by millions of thoughts and questions that he wanted her to answer, if he managed to get them out. 

“(Y/n)”

He called for her as he stood behind her. She froze, thinking over her if it was too late to run or just pass out, her legs were already shaking so it wouldn’t be that hard to just collapse. The glass of champagne she had just grabbed reached her mouth for a big sip of encouragement before she slowly turned to face the man she had shared so much with. He looked as handsome as he had always been, yet the harsh stare brought her a wave of goosebumps.

“Hello Niklaus”

“Can you tell your friend to give us a minute?”

The word friend was filled with venom. He couldn’t understand why she had chosen him as a companion, another factor of his annoyance was that their appearance together meant they knew where she was and chose to not share that information with him. (Y/n) looked over at Damon and nodded, a sign that she felt confident enough to be alone with him, she wasn’t but she felt like she owed him that much. Damon excused himself and walked away to give them some privacy, he understood that the pressure that was put on (y/n) was a lot for one to handle, so if she needed a minute with the psychopath then he would gladly let her. 

“You’re here”

“Stefan asked me to come and... help him”

“Be honest with me love, he knows I would never hurt you so he wanted you as a secret weapon”

“You would never hurt me?”

It was a genuine question. He had every right to be mad at her, try to harm her and seek revenge in true Klaus style, everyday she wondered if it would be the day he came after her and tortured her or killed him. Now there they are, looking at one another and not knowing what to say 

“You think so low of me?”

“No, that’s not it”

“Dance with me”

He couldn’t take it any longer. This awkward conversation, her cold demeanor, his nervous side that was preventing him from grabbing her and kissing her in front of everyone. At least he would be able to touch her when they danced, He offered his hand and waited for a minute, (y/n) was caught off guard, the last thing in her mind was for Klaus to ask her to dance, she took two big gulps emptying the glass and left it to the side before she placed her hand in his and let him lead the way to the dancefloor.

As he brought her close to his chest he got a good whiff of her sour cherry perfume, it was so suiting, the only way he could describe it was like biting into a sweet juicy cherry your lover gave you and finding out it was poisonous. She smelled like a sweet death from your lovers hand, very fitting for the situation

“Your dress is exquisite”

“It’s a wedding gown”

“I always wondered what you would look like on our wedding day”

He said as he spun her around and brought her to him once more, leaving her speechless as her lips slightly parted in surprise. (Y/n) knew Klaus loved her dearly, still the subject of marriage had never been brought up, she didn’t blame him, the man was supposed to leave for all eternity, she worried more about him bringing up turning her to a vampire than a wedding ring. 

“Won’t you ask me why I left”

“No, I’d rather dance with you for a while, since I know I’m never going to dance like that again”

“Why not?”

“A dance is for the gentleman to show off his partner, make her feel special. No one is more special than you love”

“Stop please”

She felt tears cloud her eyes, tears that she refused to let them run down her cheek. As she rested her head on his shoulder and followed his lead, she let her love for him show for at least tonight. She had missed him so much, that his gentle nature felt like a drug that she would allow it to kill her. Klaus felt like he was in heaven, having her back in his arms was something he thought he would never experience ever again, this was a treat from above, even though she came in aid to something that did not work in his favor. 

“Maybe it’s better this way”

She whispered. She didn’t know if they would ever get back together, maybe in the future, she never thought he would take her back, so she held it together and did her best to enjoy her time. She looked up at him, her eyes making him feel like he was finally home, those sparkling eyes he had seen in his dreams, the eyes that every time they looked at him he felt weak.

“We could have been so good together”

“We’d hurt each other with the thing we want to say”

She replied back. Klaus was a man filled with pride, he loved her but he didn’t know how to love in a healthy way, at first she tried her best to understand and to help him, after the Mikael incident where he took all the blame things only got worst, he became vengeful, dark, his temper was extremely unstable and (y/n) was no angel. She winced at the memories of the things she had yelled in his face, she could be vicious and ruthless, her wicked tongue was her biggest weapon and the bullets wounded him deeply. 

“I should have know better than to hurt my only true friend, I wasted the chance that I was given”

“Please stay, for me”

Taglist

@akshi8278

#the originals #the vampire diaries #klaus x reader #klaus mikaelson #the originals imagines #the originals one shot #klaus x oc #klaus one shot #klaus headcanon #klaus mikealson x reader #klaus mikaelson x reader #klaus mikaelson one shot #klaus mikaelson imagine #klaus mikaelson x you #klaus mikaelson x oc #klaus mikaelson x y/n #klaus x you #the originals x reader #the originals imagine #the vampire diaries imagine #the vampire diaries headcanon #the vampire diaries one shot

[imtryingmybeskar]

Part 14 of Fugitive. Quite a bit of deviance from what has gone before. Much plot, many darkness.

18+, 12k words.

"Cyar'ika...please..." A cruel smile curved your lips as you heard the Mandalorian's plaintive cries. They soothed your tormented soul like a balm after so many years of being denied. "You cannot do this. Please. Listen to me." The seemingly sourceless orange light splayed across his beskar like an oil slick fire.

You frowned and advanced on him, hissing. "I cannot? You do not tell me what I can and cannot do." As you reached him, he fell to his knees, the T shape of his visor fixed on your face.

"Please do not make me do this, cyar'ika," he begged as you heard the click of his blaster cocking.

"You think you'll...what? Shoot me? Kill me?" your words were icily mocking as you tore the blaster from his grasp and hurled it away without ever laying a finger on it. "You cannot kill me. You cannot harm me. As you say, I am your beloved. You love me." As you spoke you lifted the helmet from his head and dropped it on to the dusty black earth next to him as you looked down into his face. His nose and mouth were leaking blood and his lip was puffy and bruised. "As well you should," you added, bending down to stroke your hand through the hair at the back of his head and grabbing a fistful roughly. You planted a bruising kiss on his mouth and his lip split anew, the iron sweetness of him coating your own lips. His eyes were huge and staring, but his fear was being tempered with anger now. That too was as it should be.

"I love you. Not...this. Whatever this is. This is wrong." Bestowing another smile upon him, you released his hair and brought your hand around to cup his chin instead, speaking so softly and so, so dangerously.

"Wrong, Mand'alor? Are you quite sure about that?"

"I am not the-" But his denial of who he was drowned out by the gasp of pain he emitted as you flooded his mind with images. Of him sitting upon the throne in the royal palace of Mandalore, the Darksaber in one hand and his beskar spear in the other, the very picture of a warrior king. Of a war room filled with Jedi and Mandalorians alike, plotting and strategising their slaughter across the galaxy. Of legions upon legions of fanatical Mandalorians, loyal only to Din and cutting swathes through stormtroopers in a riotous orgy of blood and smoke...At this last you felt his mind rebel and struggle against yours, like a moth battering itself against a lamp. "No...," he managed to spit feebly.

"No?" you asked gently, your voice honeysweet and kindly as you withdrew from his mind and let him get his breath back. "But isn't it a glorious future? You and I working together to rid the galaxy of the vermin that plague it? I know you want to make them pay. For what they did to your child. For making you the Mand'alor in the first place. For Alzoc-" You knew what he was going to do before he did it. So predictable. His hand reached for your throat and closed around it as he stood, but you had already compensated your breathing and the gesture did little except excite you. His limbs were shaking with rage, as well as from his ordeal and you smiled sweetly at him. "You see?" you scraped out, "You do want this. We can set Mandalore aright again. Together. Husband of mine." His hand relaxed its grip a little, but his fingers were still around your neck. He swallowed as if something bitter were trying to force its way up his throat.

"The woman I married would never say such things, never force me to see such things. You are not my riduur." And suddenly his other blaster was in his left hand and pointing directly between your eyes.

You snarled at him, an animalistic noise of purest hatred, "You are weak, Mandalorian. You have betrayed your Creed countless times. And I know that you could never-" Suddenly the world went white, then dark, and you knew nothing more.

***

Seventy two hours earlier

***

"Din, you have to stop!" You were desperately trying not to giggle and encourage his behaviour. "I told you, either I do the ritual here or I go to my room in the Academy alone and do it."

"But mesh'la, how can I concentrate on anything else with you like this?" he said pleadingly as he gathered you into his arms.

"Like what?" you asked innocently, even though you knew perfectly well what. After you had taken shelter in the ship, you had set your robe and clothes to dry and sought out some fresh ones. Apparently you had gotten behind on laundry and had very little that was clean besides underwear, so had asked Din to borrow a spare undershirt and he had obliged. It wasn't often that you wore his clothes, but you loved having the scent of him so close to you all the time. The trouble was that you didn't have any clean spare trousers and now found yourself trying desperately to relax your mind and body when you could almost feel the heat of his gaze as he watched the bottom of his shirt grazing the tops of your thighs. "Would you prefer me naked?" That was the wrong thing to say. Or, possibly the right thing. Apparently the only thing more arousing to Din than you in his clothes was you out of them. He ground his erection against your stomach and kissed you.

"Always prefer you naked," he murmured against your lips.

"Are you going to make a liar out of me?" you asked, smiling. "I told Luke you made me a better Jedi. I also said we wouldn't be doing this here and yet..."

"And yet," he echoed, his nose stroking over your cheek. "Since you've already broken that promise once, would it be so terrible to do it again?"

"Absolutely," you answered. "But I can never resist you, Din Djarin. You know that."

Two hours later, you were finally sitting calmly and meditatively in front of a small bowl of water and a lit candle - the reflection of the candle upon the water helping to clear your mind and soothe your spirit. Recalling your meeting with Paz Vizsla, you went through each stage of what led to your anger at him, analysing and considering all possible angles to avoid a repeat of such behaviours in the future. At the core of it was your attachment to Din, your desire to never see him be hurt or damaged. You had to be mindful and better at managing your emotions surrounding him, else it would be increasingly easy to act that way again. The candle suddenly flickered although there was no draft that you could feel, and you could see a darkness swirl within the bowl. It...had to be a trick of the light. The bowl was white, there was nowhere that the darkness could be. Still, it was there and as you concentrated on it, you thought you heard a noise. A low level thrumming like machinery, but punctuated by the occasional voice calling, shouting in distress, screaming...

"Mesh'la?" Din's voice struck through your mind like an arrow, and his hand on your shoulder shook the dream from you instantly. "You fell asleep," he said needlessly, a smile playing about his lips. You looked down at the candle and bowl. The water was clear and ordinary, the candle not burned down by much. You couldn't have been asleep for more than twenty minutes. "Are you okay?" he asked when you didn't reply to him.

"Yes, fine. Just a strange dream. And apparently I'm more tired than I imagined." Din helped you to your feet. "Can we go back to the Academy? We need to speak with Luke again." His face took on a stony, annoyed countenance. "I know, I know. But we do have things to talk through. Not least the Council's discussion about you and I. Luke...he is a good man. Please trust me on this. And when you feel ready - if you feel ready - you can talk to me about whatever it is that has made you so...well you know." He nodded and looked into your eyes, his own softened and filling with love as he beheld your face.

"I do trust you. Of course I do. And I trust that what I need to tell you will not change us. Its just-" he swallowed thickly, "-its hard to say out loud after so long." Your arms came round his back to hold him close and you felt the understanding pass between you, strengthening you both individually and together.

Once your clothes had (mostly) dried, you got dressed and Din gave a low hum of approval when he saw that you were continuing to wear his undershirt. "You look far better in that than I do," he remarked and you kissed him happily before handing him his helmet. He held your hand on the approach back to the Academy, seeming to want to be as close to you as he could after your disagreement, even through his coverings. Just as you were about to enter through the main doors, Tolea came out to you.

"There you are," she smiled. "I've been looking all over. Luke said there is to be a "Council meeting" after the evening meal?" You could almost hear the quotation marks around 'Council Meeting'. "There's hardly a Council to speak of!" Her eyes fell to where yours and Din's hands met and she raised an eyebrow, more suggestive than questioning. You set about introducing your fiancé and your friend properly. He seemed inclined to trust her as when you gave his name as "Mando", he interjected with his real first name and held out his hand to clasp hers.

"So, a Mandalorian, hey?" she teased. "You always did have a thing for them!" Your eyes had gone wide at her words and you could feel the heat rise in your cheeks as you saw Din's helmet turn to face you in the periphery of your vision and heard what sounded like a laugh swiftly muffled by a cough.

"I did not have a "thing" for them," you spluttered indignantly. "I was just interested in the history of the Mandalorian Wars!"

"Yeah, yeah. But the armour helped, right?"

"Tolea!"

"Alright, I'll stop," she promised, her hand coming to pat your shoulder in a good-natured way. "I actually just wanted to see if you would come and spar with me? I'm a little rusty and it might be a good learning experience for the Padawans."

"I will, if you never mention the word 'Mandalorian' in front of me ever again," you joked. She bowed to you in a mockery of a solemn promise and turned away to walk you around the building to the outside exercise yard. Your cheeks were just beginning to cool when Din's faintly amused voice spoke softly to you.

"A "thing" hmmm?"

"Oh don't you start," you urged, holding up a warning finger toward him.

"Well....I can see it, that's all I'm saying." He paused briefly. "And there was that "thing" with Fett too." Apparently Tolea's hearing was excellent because at this she rounded on you, her face gleeful as you turned to Din, horrified.

"DIN!"

"Excuse me, what? Boba Fett the Bounty Hunter?! The one with the armour, yes? I just want to be clear!" Din's rumble of laughter at your face and Tolea's delight made your heart give a sudden squeeze. It had been so long since you had been with friends that you knew and trusted, and even though they were currently ribbing you mercilessly, you were so grateful to have them both in your life again. Your voice was teasing as you made your rejoinder.

"I'd be careful if I were you. You just asked me to spar and told me you were out of practice. Such a shame, what accidents can occur," you said breezily to Tolea. "As for you," you narrowed your eyes at Din and gently poked your finger at his breastplate, "Copaani mirshmure'cye, vod?!" He laughed at your meaningless threats and caught your hands before pressing his helmet to your forehead for the briefest moment.

"I should not have taught you that one," he said softly. "I mean...I beg your pardon, verd." Tolea was looking between you both, a little bemused.

"I'm going to assume you said something disgustingly private and leave it at that," she ventured.

"Close. I was threatening to smack him in the face. That's kind of Mandalorian courting, isn't it?" you teased.

"Excuse me!" he exclaimed, ruffled. "I'll show you Mandalorian courting!....That...wasn't supposed to sound like that," he added in a slightly defeated tone as both you and Tolea roared with laughter. The good natured teasing between the three of you lasted until you were almost at the exercise ground.

"Okay," Tolea breathed. "We have to be calm and act like actual adults for the children now." She tried to make her face solemn, but giggled slightly when she caught your eye as you were trying to do the same thing. "I missed you," she said as she patted your shoulder again and the warmth of your friendship sloshed between you like a tropical ocean wave. You managed to collect yourselves enough to greet the children with a modicum of decorum. Din settled himself on the edges of the training ground, a little apart from the Padawans - you assumed so as not to distract them. It worked, for the most part, although eyes would occasionally stray to where he stood, monolith-like in his size and stillness.

"As some of you may know," Tolea began, gesturing at you, "we both trained together at the Jedi Temple on Coruscant before the Empire came. We have spent many years apart, but the bonds of kinship as Jedi remain strong, as well as the bonds of friendship." She smiled fondly at the Padawans in front of her. "We would often practice our Forms with each other and train together. Hopefully, our bonds will show through there as well, despite the time apart." She took up her initial stance opposite you, and you followed her lead. As she ignited her lightsaber, you blinked in surprise.

"Yellow? That's new." Tolea smiled.

"I lost my lightsaber that night but I rebuilt it when I came here. There is an ancient Temple not too far from here. I found an old and broken lightsaber within it and was able to rescue its crystal and purify it as my own. It felt like it was meant to be mine, even more than my old one, somehow."

"We shall see how it serves you," you replied with a smile. "I'll go easy on you and spare you the double blade, for now." Tolea tutted at you, but there was warmth in her eyes. You began by slowly demonstrating various aspects of the Forms and explaining how to incorporate Force abilities within some of these aspects, but after a while the joy of training with your friend again overtook the teaching somewhat. It was as if everything else fell away and for a brief time you were both ten years old again, with so few responsibilities, delighting in your new lightsabers and your abilities. Tolea was far less rusty than she had lead you to believe and before long the sweat was running down your back. When you came to a natural break, you begged a few minutes and she gladly acquiesced. It was at this point that you noticed that the number of people observing had swelled considerably. Master Kholi had come to join you with his group of students and was looking with approval at yourself and Tolea.

"This is good to see," he commented. "I myself was never very skilled with weapons. I was a Healer at the Temple and never had much time for them. I am glad the children can learn from such as yourselves." He glanced over to Din who was holding Grogu protectively, the child's back against his chest. "I see the Mandalorian seems more inclined to stay. This too is good. I will see you both at the meeting."

Tolea and yourself set to pairing the children up according to ability. There were practice sabers for the very youngest that were little more than padded sticks and these were distributed. With Din holding tight to Grogu there was an uneven number, so Tolea herself matched with Loro. As you approached Din and Grogu, you could hear his soft words spoken toward the child.

"...know everything about how to defend yourself. We will make sure of it. You will be a great warrior one day. Like your buir." With these last words, he raised his helmet to you, and you realised he wasn't talking about himself. A surge of pride and love roared through you and as you came to Grogu and kissed his head, he reached out to be held by you a while. You took him and cradled him in your arms, so that he could continue to observe the training going on around him and stepped backward a little so that your back was resting against the right side of Din's body. His hand came discreetly to the small of your back and stroked you softly. "You were amazing, cyar'ika," he said softy. "I pity the person who gets in your way."

You beamed at his praise. "Perhaps you could teach the children too. I don't think many of them know how to handle a blaster. I'll raise it at the meeting." You turned around to him and could see his helmet tipped questioningly at you. "I don't know what the others will say, but to me it seems silly to have an expert in weaponry here and not take advantage of it. Your lessons saved my life many a time."

"Teaching children? Do you really think I'm suitable for that?"

"Absolutely. Why wouldn't you be? I had never taught children before I came here. Just...be yourself." You looked across at the training yard at the students. "See, you already have a fan," you added, amused. Alikas was watching you and Din and when she saw you looking, she waved at you, the distraction causing her opponent to be able to knock her training saber out of her hand. She scowled at him, reached her hand out to raise it from the ground and retrieve it, and redoubled her efforts in sparring.

"That one reminds me of you," said Din, and you could hear the smile on his lips through the beskar. "Fierce and unafraid to speak her mind."

"And this one," you said, planting another kiss on Grogu's head, "Reminds me of you. Stubborn and very cute." He chuckled and reached out a finger for Grogu to grasp.

"Where do I sleep tonight?" he asked softly. "And where do you?"

"I think that will depend on what is discussed later. We will have the evening meal first, and then it will be the children's bedtime." At your words, Grogu turned his head toward you with a hopeful coo, and an image came unbidden to your mind. "I'm sure there will be eggs for you, little one," you assured him.

There were indeed eggs, along with fruit and meats and bread and vegetables and a type of savoury pastry you had never had before, but you took to well. The mood at the table was jovial and light, despite the fact that Luke was nowhere to be seen. Alikas displaced you by sitting next to Din before you could this time, and she and Grogu giggled happily together as they shared in their meal. Once Grogu had eaten his fill and was merely playing with his food, Din tasked her with watching him while he gathered a plate of his own to eat. The child nodded solemnly at the request and Tolea squeezed your arm in a silent promise that she would watch over both children. Just before he left, Din took a small silver ball out of a tiny pocket on his belt. Grogu babbled a long stream of happy nonsense and reached for it, using his power to take the ball from Din's hand. Din huffed a small laugh of contentment and stroked Grogu's head softly before picking up his plate. You led Din out of the dining hall and to the right, down one of the corridors of the quadrangle to one of the classrooms where he could eat his meal in peace. After removing his helmet and sitting down with his back to the door, he attacked the food with fervour, having had nothing since breakfast and once his immediate hunger was sated, he stared around at the pale blue walls surrounding him and the windows that looked over the grassy plains.

"Why do you have such a big space for so few?" he wondered aloud.

"Partly because we are hoping that we will not be so few in the near future," you smiled at him. "But also because this structure is part of something more ancient. Certain planets have more of a connection with the Force than others. Or at least, the Force flows more freely through them. This is such a place and is one of the reasons Luke chose to found the Academy here. Other Jedi came here before us and also settled. Some of their buildings survived and were in turn built upon. You paused, then said more softly, "I wish you could have seen the old Temple on Coruscant. It was a thousand times the size of this. The amount of times I got lost, even after having lived there for years...And it was so beautiful. Vaulted ceilings that were so high you could barely see them, or it felt that way. carvings and tapestries of Jedi past everywhere. And a serenity that permeated it. As soon as you walked in you felt more at peace with the galaxy." You only realised that you were staring out of the window, when Din took your hand. You had been looking at the plains but actually seeing the slanted sunbeams coming through the windows of the Temple and hitting the marble floors.

As you came back to yourself Din said softly, "It was your home. You've told me that it was before, but I've never really seen you speak of it as such until now. I'm sorry I cannot offer you a place like that to live."

"Don't. I just need you. The ship feels more like home with you in it than it ever did when I was alone." You stroked your hands over the stubble at his jaw as you spoke and he moved his cheek against your hand, almost burrowing into your touch. "I love you, Din. I don't tell you nearly enough." His eyes met yours and they were soft and warm with his matching adoration of you. You leaned forward to capture his lips with your own and as you did, heard a slightly embarrassed cough from the direction of the door. You raised your eyes to see Tolea standing there.

"Sorry," she grimaced. "Its just, the children are about to prepare for bed and I thought you might like to say goodnight." Din put his helmet back on and stood, gathering his plate and cutlery as he did so. "Here I'll take that," she offered. "You go."

Instead of sleeping in one room, the children were now divided into three dormitories, and Loro had his own little room to himself next door to the younglings. It was strange to see how much had changed in the relatively short time you had been away. Grogu shared a room with Alikas and a little boy called Dann. Even if Luke hadn't mentioned Tolea's biological children, you would have recognised those eyes anywhere. As you went to tuck the children in, Din hung back a little by the doorway, clearly still unsure as to whether he should be there. But when Grogu reached for him, he went immediately, stroking his fuzzy little head and covering him over with the blankets in his crib. "Goodnight, kid," he murmured. "Sweet dreams."

Din and you went your separate ways shortly afterward - he returned to the Haldon while you joined the other Jedi in Luke's study. Luke looked pensive and a little worried as you entered and he immediately asked you about the Mandalorian.

"He is troubled. Less by what we spoke of and more about something deeper, something from his past. He has not spoken to me about that yet, but he is also concerned about the alliance you spoke of. Din has no desire to be the Mand'alor. He obtained the Darksaber almost accidentally. He wishes a peaceful transition of power to the Mandalorian who does wish to rule." Tolea and Ka-Moon both looked a little confused about what you were saying, so you set to telling them an abridged version of what had befallen the day that Luke had taken Grogu. "We have plans to meet with Din's people. After that we will have a better idea of how to proceed. He does not want another civil war amongst the Mandalorians, especially since they are already so few. But the Mand'alor must be determined by combat. There seems to be no way to reconcile these things. An overt alliance with the Jedi at this time would muddy the political waters even further and bring undue attention upon us here," you concluded.

"I understand his reaction a little more now. And yet a reluctant ruler can sometimes be the better kind. He does not seek power for himself, or for its own sake. What about the one that wants the throne?"

"I know little about her, other than Din considers her honourable. I trust his judgement." Luke nodded, looking thoughtful again. Tolea piped up, a little hesitantly.

"I don't mean to detract from the seriousness of the situation, but if he did choose to take the throne does that mean you would be a...queen?" You smiled at her. It was a question that had passed through your mind but that you had paid little real attention to.

"I don't think it works that way. There is only one ruler of Mandalore. There are few shades of grey in their society. I think I would be viewed as his consort, but would wield no actual power. That's if we were married, of course." The unadorned mention of why you were here caused a slight tension in the room for a few seconds before it relaxed and released, the bubble burst by your simple words. No one seemed surprised by your declaration and your suspicion that the others had at least sensed the feelings between Din and yourself seemed to have been proven right. That was if Luke hadn't just told them both outright.

"I am personally unsure about the wisdom of doing away with such rules," Ka-Moon said, a little stiffly. "We all know where such attachment can lead."

"So much has changed," countered Tolea. "The dangers of allowing attachment to drive emotion are still present, but how can we be away from the rigours of Temple life for almost twenty years and then return to that life as if nothing were different?"

"We cannot," agreed Ka-Moon, "But nor should we let go of everything that made the Order what it was."

"I agree," Luke chimed in, "But we should find a new way forward. The Order fell in part because it was not responsive enough to change. I believe we need to be more flexible in how we operate, now that we are so few."

"Forgive me, but you were not there. I do not believe you have sufficient knowledge of how the Order used to be run to be able to criticise it in such a way."

"But we all were," you interjected, "And Yoda himself trained Luke, and I agree with him."

"You have a vested interest in this particular discussion," pointed out Ka-Moon gently. "I am not dismissing your view, only pointing out the circumstances surrounding it."

"Then I too must have a vested interest," said Tolea. "Since my children are here. Would you have us leave, Master Kholi? If we are adhering to the old ways, the children should not be in my presence." She sighed. "We cannot go back. We must build what we can."

"Bringing force sensitive younglings to be trained is far different than seeking marriage. The children are already here, we cannot deny them. We need to nurture them and their abilities. Ratifying marriage within the Order is new territory and possibly dangerous."

"The Mandalorian and I will continue to live as we have," you pointed out. "Whether we speak the words or not, he is my husband in my life, in my heart."

"So what difference does it make?" asked Ka-Moon.

"Precisely," you answered.

The debate stretched. Tea was made and drunk and made again. The light had almost totally failed and only a few streaks of pale green across the blue of the sky to the north showed where the sun had been by the time a decision was made. Ka-Moon was still not entirely happy, but had come around to the idea of forging a new path for the Jedi. Afterward he confessed that his own heart ached for a past love that he had been forced to give up in service of the Order and you understood his reluctance a little more. When you had suggested that he go and seek him, as you had Din, he gave a sad smile and shook his head. "He died fighting the Empire a long time ago. But I wish you and your Mandalorian much happiness in your life together." You were grateful for his kind words and told him as much.

"So...how do we go about this? I mean, can we do this here? Soon?"

Luke smiled a little at your eager impatience. "I don't see why not. If you can find somewhere you want to conduct the ceremony. What will the ceremony be, anyway?"

"I don't even know. There is a very brief Mandalorian ritual but as to what I am bringing, I just don't know. I would like to have you all there, though. My family in attendance and to witness." Tolea was overjoyed for you and hugged you close with tears starting in her eyes as she did so. As the meeting broke up, she caught your hand in her own.

"Come with me, I want to give you something." Curious, you followed her to her chambers - which were dark panelled but hung with beautifully woven and brightly coloured tapestries all over, giving the impression that you were walking into some sort of botanical garden. She rummaged around in a trunk at the end of her bed and finally emerged with a folded garment in her arms. "This was-" she began before her voice cracked. You stroked her shoulder, encouraging her to go on if she could. "This was the dress I was wearing when I met my husband. Well...he was never my husband under the law. He died before...But I was going to use it for my wedding dress as well. If you like it, I want you to wear it."

"Tolea I...that's so wonderful of you. Are you quite sure?" She nodded, sniffling a little.

"It was supposed to be a wedding dress. It should be a wedding dress," she said, simply. "Try it on, we'll see how it suits you and if we need to adjust it anywhere." You gently shook the dress out. It was long and flowing, made of some material that seemed to catch and hold the breeze within it, and a beautiful lavender colour that rippled as it undulated gently. Tolea helped you put it on and aside from some minor adjustments to the waist, and the sleeves being a little too long it fit almost perfectly. Her eyes welled up again a little as she took in the sight of you and you thanked her profusely as you embraced. "I can't believe I have my friend back and now you're getting married? It's so strange! Do you remember those nights we couldn't sleep and would talk about what it would be like to have a "normal" life? We never expected we would actually do it!"

"I remember both of us being giggly over Master Kenobi," you said, laughing. "We weren't exactly model Jedi, even back then!" Tolea laughed and rummaged in the trunk again, coming up with a small sewing kit.

"Let me just adjust this a little for you. It will be finished by tomorrow." She took her measurements and made her markings and you gave the dress back into her capable hands before putting on your usual clothes. "Go tell Din the good news," she smiled as she shooed you gently out of her room.

Even though the hour was late, Din had not closed up the ship, clearly expecting that you would indeed visit after your meeting. As you approached, you wondered why he had not come out to meet you, as the sensors in his helmet would have told him of your approach in good time. Reasoning that he had perhaps become weary of his beskar again and was hiding out in the ship, you all but ran up the incline of the entrance ramp, calling him as you did. He was not in the hold and there was no reply. You opened the door to the room you shared, but he was not there. You couldn't hear the shower running in the fresher either. The elation you had felt was souring to anxiety in your stomach as you climbed the ladder to the cockpit where you found Din's hulking form slouched in the pilot's chair, his helmet thrown carelessly to one side and his right arm dangling loosely over the armrest, the hilt of the Darksaber in his hand. He did not turn at the sound of your approach and a brief moment of terror seized your heart when you thought he might be unconscious, or worse.

"Din?" you called again as you came up to the back of the seat, and this time he stirred a little, though his eyes never left the view from the cockpit window. "Din, what's wrong?" you asked as you came to his side and touched his elbow. Finally, he dragged his gaze to you. His eyes were lit with the same wildness that you had seen when he had kissed you in the rain but it was wrong somehow, muted, dulled, and sickly. A thin trail of dark blood leaked from one nostril.

"I can hear it," he frowned, his words slightly slurred and coming slowly. "Is this what you hear? How can you bear it?"

"You can hear what, Din?" you asked, trying to keep your voice calm as you pressed the back of your hand to his head. His brow was both cold and slick with sweat.

"Everything," he panted. "Why can I hear it? I...I can feel it." His eyes grew suddenly wide and fearful, something you had never seen before and which chilled you to the bone.

"Din, you need to come with me," you said firmly. "You're unwell. Master Kholi will look over you and then you will be fine." This last part was more for your benefit than for his. There had only been one other time when he had acted in a similar way, long ago when you had first travelled with him, before you had ever known him fully. It had been such a silly mistake. As you had chased your quarry through a jungle landscape, he had tripped over a root and fallen headfirst into a bush. You had teased him mercilessly about it for the rest of the afternoon and all seemed well until the next morning. It transpired that as he had removed his beskar for the night, a thorn that had snagged on his clothing had scratched a jagged line onto his skin, its swift poison working its way through him as he slept. Even through his delirium he had managed to put his helmet back on before you found him. It had been his last rational thought for several days.

The beautiful depths of his eyes grew cloudy with confusion at your words. "But...you asked me. If I could feel it. And now I can."

"Its okay, kar'ta." you murmured soothingly to him. "Come with me, everything will be-" A thought struck you like a thunderbolt. "Din," you whispered haltingly, "Do you mean you can feel the Darksaber?" In reply he held the hilt limply up toward you, almost as an offering. It seemed to take all of his strength to make that simple movement. You gulped as you reached for it with trepidation, wanting to take the burden of it from Din, but not wanting you both to be afflicted with whatever it was that was happening. As your fingers closed around the hilt, a wave of sound and emotion hit you. Terror and abandonment and rage and screaming madness and the same thrumming that you had heard earlier as you had meditated, stronger this time and more defined as a heavy thumping the longer you held the hilt. As blackness crowded the edge of your vision, you dropped it to the floor of the ship. Din made tiny anguished noise at the sight and reached down weakly to grasp at it again. "No!" you exclaimed sharply as you pushed him gently but firmly back into his seat. "Leave it there!" You kicked the weapon away out of the reach of you both, the terrifying cacophony blasting through you for a second time as your boot connected with it. Din lay back into the pilot's chair, his chest rising and falling rapidly as if he couldn't quite get enough oxygen into him. Quickly, you used the communication array to contact Luke, silently offering a prayer of gratitude when he answered almost immediately.

"What's wrong?" he asked. "I sense-"

"Get Ka-Moon and come to the ship. Din is ill. Please hurry." Luke disconnected at once and you turned your attentions back to the man in front of you, kneeling down beside him and taking his gloved hand in yours while stroking the sweat soaked strands of his hair back from his forehead. "Kar'ta, they will be here soon and we will make you feel better, I promise. Can we take some of your beskar off? You might be more comfortable when they arrive." His attention seemed to have meandered back to the cockpit window. You stood and looked outside yourself, but could see only the darkness of the plains ahead. Only starlight existed out there to illuminate anything and it wasn't enough. Bending back to Din, you began to remove his pauldrons. He did nothing to stop you, but nor did he assist. You weren't entirely sure he was able to move to help, nor that he was even aware of what you were doing.

Your mind was turning furiously, trying to piece together what had happened. Clearly he had been well enough to get up the ladder to the cockpit in the first place, so this was a relatively new affliction. But you had been at the meeting for hours. Who knew how long he had been here in this state? The thought of him experiencing the torment you had heard and felt for that long made you choke back a sob that tried to make its way up your throat, and you forced your mind back to rationality with some difficulty. When you had been on Artorias and had begun teaching him about lightsaber forms, you had asked him if he could feel anything from the Darksaber, if the crystal within it spoke to him as your lightsaber crystal spoke to you. He had replied in the negative. What had changed? Location was the most obvious answer. This planet was strong with the Force. Was it possible that he had a degree of Force sensitivity but that it took a planet like this for it to be strong enough to be noticeable? Or was the Darksaber reacting differently and not Din himself? You had held the weapon previously and had felt nothing like what you had just experienced. As your mind whirred you were removing his thigh armour and this time he moved his legs up a little, you believed in an attempt to give you easier access to the fastenings. Your heart gave a hopeful leap at this and as you pulled the beskar away you cradled his face and looked into his eyes. They were still hazy, with pain or confusion you couldn't tell, but his attention was fixed on you now, and he held your gaze. Both of which you took to be good signs.

"Its okay Din, it will all be okay. I love you. I love you so much. We will make you better, I promise. I'm here with you and it will all be okay." You were babbling a stream of near-meaningless nonsense, for your own benefit as much as his. You heard Luke's voice and footsteps approach up the incline of the ramp and pressed your lips against Din's briefly, thinking (hoping?) you felt him try to reciprocate. You stroked his face softly before easing him forward from the headrest and placing his helmet back on his head, calling to the Jedi below as you did so.

The next couple of hours were a nightmare whirlwind for you. Ka-Moon made his basic assessments of Din, but was hampered by the fact that you refused to allow him to take his helmet off. You had no idea what choice Din would make in this situation, given that Luke had already seen his face, but you were determined to err on the side of caution and to retain his dignity for him as far as possible. Din seemed to be able to move a little more as the minutes ticked by and eventually could stand, aided by a person on either side of him, though he seemed to have lost the ability to speak when you took the Darksaber from him. Getting him down the ladder was problematic to say the least. While his hands were still able to grip the rungs sufficiently, you ended up helping to physically move his legs while Luke was on standby to catch him, with the Force if necessary. Mercifully, there was a floating stretcher waiting in the hold and as you helped Din to lie back on to it, he groped for your hand and squeezed it when you gave it to him. It was a pitiful fraction of his usual strength, but it bolstered your courage and gave you hope in your heart. You ached for him, that people were witnessing his physical weakness and for the first and only time you hoped that his wits hadn't entirely returned, to spare him his shame. As you had appraised Luke of what you had experienced, he had wrapped the Darksaber in a thick woollen blanket that you had provided, taking care to only touch it with his gloved mechanical hand and looking grimly thoughtful as he did. Tolea was there to greet you at the door of the Academy again and she accompanied you all to the medical bay. Ka-Moon swore that he would not remove Din's helmet but requested that he be allowed a degree of peace to run his tests. You knew it was the best thing to do, but were also having trouble leaving Din's side. Much as you trusted in Ka-Moon's healing capabilities, you couldn't help but feel that somehow this was your fault and that by leaving Din alone you were compounding your mistake. Only when Din managed to breathe a shaky "Mesh'la" to you before stroking his thumb clumsily over your cheek did you feel he was recovered enough for you to be just outside the room. You kissed the top of his helmet and pressed your forehead against it before you left, accompanied by Tolea and Luke.

"What's happening? Did you feel anything from the Darksaber? How can I help him? What can I do?" you fired these questions in quick succession at Luke, your voice breaking on the last one. Tolea came to you and hugged you close.

"I have a theory," Luke began haltingly, "But its not complete...Tolea, tell me again what you saw when you went to the Temple." Tolea let you go and turned to face Luke, but before she did you saw the look of trepidatious realisation on her face.

"The Temple where you got your crystal?" you asked, frantically.

Luke nodded. "I don't know if you remember but just before you left to find Din, I mentioned that I thought I had found reference to an ancient temple nearby. When Tolea arrived she volunteered to go and find it if she could."

"There was something...bizarre about the place," Tolea said, her eyes a little distant. "The further in I explored the more untouched it looked. As if one day everyone had just flown away and left. I found a few useful things scattered around - datapads and the like. The only ruination I could see had been caused by the weather and so was mainly on the outside. Until I reached what looked like the meditation room. There were...bones in there. A lot of them. All jumbled up. And scorch marks from weapons on the walls. Its where I found the lightsaber that I took my crystal from. There were a few of them scattered around, but I was drawn to that one in particular..."

"Did you feel anything from the Temple?" you pressed. "Anything that might explain-" you broke off and gestured helplessly at the room behind you.

Tolea shook her head. "You were always the more perceptive of us," she answered. "I felt nothing but the sadness and emptiness of yet more death around me."

"I need to go there," you said instantly. "If it might help-" Luke held up a warding hand.

"I know its not what you want to hear," he cautioned, "But you must be patient. Do not rush in until we have more information." He spoke more loudly over you as you began to protest, "I know you want to feel like you are doing something. But he needs you here. Once he is back on his feet, you know he will follow you wherever you may go. And without knowing more about what has happened here, you might just be leading him into more danger." He was right, you knew he was right.

"So what can I do?" you whispered miserably.

"You can help me with my research. The Darksaber is a unique weapon in the galaxy as far as we know. And so much of its history is lost. We will start with information on its creator, Tarre Vizsla, and then-"

"Vizsla," you murmured. Luke looked at you, puzzled. "Vizsla was the name of the Mandalorian I met. The one I...lost my control with." Had it really only been the previous night that you and Din had been wrapped around each other in the magnificence of that bed? It seemed like weeks ago. "I knew I recognised the name, but I couldn't think why. I have read about Tarre Vizsla before. Do you think it is relevant?"

"At this point, I don't want to rule anything out," Luke said grimly.

"Can you spare a datapad? I don't want to move too far from here."

Luke's eyes and voice softened a little as he replied. "Of course," he said. "I'll upload everything I have been able to find out about this planet and the Darksaber and I'll bring it to you." Tolea was the one who actually brought you the datapad. She came to you twenty minutes after Luke had departed and she also brought along water, some fruit and a couple of large colourful patchwork cushions that you recognised as having been on her bed earlier.

"In case you want to be a little more comfortable," she explained as you gratefully accepted them. There were no chairs in the corridor and the toll of the day had begun to make itself known to you. "No news?" she enquired, her eyes flicking toward the medbay door. You shook your head wordlessly, not trusting yourself to speak at that moment. She brought you in for a hug again. "Everything will be okay," she soothed as she stroked your hair. "He is strong. He will be just fine."

"What do I-" your voice broke and you stopped to take deep breaths before continuing. "How do I tell Grogu?" you whispered miserably. "He's only just got Din back and now..." Tolea took your face in her hands and looked into your eyes.

"You won't need to tell Grogu anything because Din will be fine," she insisted. You nodded sadly and Tolea sat you down on one of the cushions, positioning herself on the other opposite you. "Can I ask something?" she spoke hesitantly and you nodded for her to continue. "What did he say to you in there? That word that made you come away." You felt your eyes well up and had some difficulty controlling the spasms of grief that passed across your face. "I'm sorry," Tolea apologised hurriedly. "I shouldn't have-"

"It's ok," you said, your voice a little wobblier than you would have liked. "It's Mando'a. He called me 'Mesh'la'. Its his name for me, when we're together. I don't think he's ever said it quite that publicly before. It means 'beautiful'." And for some reason, that was the word that broke the through the dam you had tried so hard to keep strong. Tears flooded down your face in a silent stream as Tolea held you against her shoulder, stroking over your back through your shuddering breaths.

Once you were calm, you insisted Tolea go to get some rest. It would already be a challenge to focus on the datapad in front of you, when Din was so close and yet so out of reach. You didn't want to hurt Tolea's feelings, but you did not want an additional distraction to your task. She left, but only once she had extracted a promise from you that you would call her if you needed her for anything. Once you settled back down on the cushions and began to read, you realised that much of Luke's research was more of a reminder of what you had already known than anything new. Tarre Visla had been the first Mandalorian to train as a Jedi on the Temple on Coruscant. He had created the Darksaber as a way to marry his Mandalorian and Jedi identities and it had later become a symbol of power among Mandalorians, Vizsla himself using the weapon while he was the Mand'alor. After he had died, the Jedi had brought the Darksaber back to the Temple and it had been kept there until members of House Vizsla had taken it back and used it to unite the Mandalorian clans. That had been during the fall of the Old Republic, over a thousand years ago and its history was shrouded in mystery for many centuries thereafter.

More interesting was what he had been able to discover about the Temple that lay not far to the East. It had been a Jedi stronghold towards the end of the Jedi-Sith wars, around the same time that Vizsla was alive, and although it was small it was apparently of some strategic importance to both sides. There were reports of frequent Sith attacks, all of which seemed to be successfully repelled by the Jedi stationed there. However, the last report that Luke had been able to find had some interesting details that caught your eye. The Sith that had attacked on this occasion were bolstered by a cell of highly trained fighters that had managed to withstand the Jedi offensives, even though they themselves were not Force users. And there was a mention of a "Hunter" that stalked the plains, picking off any unwary Jedi that strayed too far from the confines of the Temple. The very last line of this account was a desperate plea to Coruscant for extraction, with a warning that the Temple was now unviable and a line that sent a chill down your spine; "They did not conquer, they did not have to. They were always here. They will always be here."

As you pondered the implications of those words, the door behind you opened and Ka-Moon's kindly face looked down at you. "Come in," he invited, and you scrambled to your feet to do just that. Din was sitting up on one of the beds, his back to the wall and with one leg on the bed and one on the floor, as if he were about to attempt to walk. His remaining beskar, cape and gloves were piled on a chair near to the bed, but his helmet was on. "Don't let him do too much," Ka-Moon was saying as you made your way across the floor to Din. "He needs rest. I will be back shortly." You thanked him a little distractedly as he withdrew from the room, and then turned your attention fully to Din. He moved to take the helmet from his head and you gladly assisted him. He looked exhausted, but much more himself and you couldn't stop the tears that spilled from your eyes as you bent and kissed his lips tenderly.

"Kar'ta," you whispered, as you gathered him to your chest and pressed him close. "I was so worried. I thought...I thought I had lost you."

"Never," he replied, his voice a little raspy. "It will require more than that to take me from you, cyar'ika." You took his face in your hands and scanned him, even as he wiped the tears from your cheeks. There was no evidence of physical hurt to him, even his nose had stopped bleeding. His eyes were his own again and that pleased you more than anything.

"What happened?" you asked as you sat yourself on the bed, holding his hands in your own. "What do you remember?" He was shaking his head at the questions.

"Ka-Moon asked me the same and I will tell you what I told him. I went back to the ship to attend to my weapons and beskar while you were in your meeting. I did so and took a shower afterward. That is all I remember." You frowned.

"You don't remember getting dressed? Putting your beskar back on? Going to the cockpit?" He shook his head at each question as you fired them. "When do your memories return?"

"I have flashes but I don't know if they are real memories or not. I remember taking my helmet off but I don't remember why. I remember a voice. Not yours. But a woman's. And...other noises." He visibly shuddered and then pulled himself together. "The sky. The sky was on fire. I remember your face. You took some of my armour off. And you held my hand. I remember reaching out to touch your face. Then everything seemed to settle in my head but you weren't there anymore. I've felt more like myself again for half an hour or so."

"Do you remember what this woman you heard said?" He frowned, his eyes focused on the floor but not really seeing it.

"She wanted something from me. I don't know what. I can't remember what she said, but I remember her hatred. Its still in my mind, like a bad taste I can't get rid of." He shook his head as if to dislodge what he was feeling.

"Are you in pain?" you asked him gently.

"My head hurt. He gave me something for it." He paused. "What happened to me?" You explained the situation from your point of view. When you came to talk about the Darksaber, Din almost absent-mindedly groped behind his back to feel for it and you gently took his hand in yours again.

"Luke has it. It seems to be connected with what happened but we aren't sure how yet." As you continued with your story, the crease between his eyes deepened until he was fully frowning at your words. You made sure to skate lightly over how much assistance he had required from the ship to the medbay and he didn't seem much inclined to ask. Your story ended with what you had read on the datapad and your own conclusion that you had drawn. "I have to go to the Temple, to investigate."

"Mesh'la-" he began, warningly.

"No, Din. I have to go. I need to stop this ever happening to you again, and for that I need information."

"Then I come with you." He made as if to heave himself off the bed, but you halted his progression gently with one hand.

"You need rest right now. I will not be going any time soon. I still need to see if Luke has discovered anything new." Din reluctantly settled himself back against the wall. When you spoke again, you did so hesitantly, not wanting to make him relive his traumatic experience quite so soon, but also needing answers only he could provide. "I know you say you remember nothing," you began, "but you said to me that you could hear the Darksaber, that you could feel it. Do you recall taking it out? Or using it? Or anything unusual about it from this evening?" Din frowned again in concentration and you squeezed his hand to remind him that you were there and he was safe. He spoke haltingly when he replied.

"When I cleaned my weapons, I held the Darksaber and switched it on to check it was all in order. But I remember that clearly, there was no voice then, nothing was wrong. It was all as it should be. I think...the Darksaber was the way that the woman could speak to me. But I don't know why I think that, I just have a feeling."

"Trust your feelings," you urged. "And let me know if anything else comes back to you. But for now, you must rest." You moved to the other side of the bed to settle next to him. "I am here, kar'ta," you murmured, as he lay down on his side and faced you. You kissed his forehead and held him close and within no time at all his breathing was deep and even as he fell into a deep sleep of exhaustion. After you had moved carefully and quietly back out of the room, you found Ka-Moon and informed him of Din's helmetless and sleeping state, promising him you would return shortly. Then you made your way to Luke's study where you were not surprised to find Tolea assisting in the research he had promised.

"I couldn't sleep," she confessed. "Not when everyone else was awake and doing something." You nodded and squeezed her hand gratefully before sitting in a chair next to her and putting forward the theory that had started to come together in your mind.

"I think that the Darksaber was here on this planet before, a thousand years ago. There is a mention of what sounds very much like a mercenary band of Mandalorians in that information you gave me, Luke. And a reference to a Hunter picking off Jedi, which may also have been one of their number. If Mandalorians and the Sith were working together here, is it not possible that the Darksaber was...infused? With some kind of memory perhaps. If one of the Sith were that strong, could they have done such a thing? And now that the weapon is back here, the echoes of it are strong enough to reach out and try to connect with us. If Din has any Force sensitivity it would explain why he was affected so badly. With no training to shield him, his mental defences would be minimal. I know its not a perfect explanation, but I think it fits a lot of the pieces together."

Luke seemed to ponder what you had proffered in silence for a time. "I have heard of artifacts and weapons retaining an essence of their owners, if their owners were sufficiently powerful in life," he mused. "I am troubled greatly by all of this. Not just because of what has happened to Din, but for the future of the Academy. I thought I felt a darkness...somewhere. I thought it was the remnant of what had happened between you and Vizsla, but now I begin to suspect it is something more. I have had dreams here and there ever since Tolea got back from her exploration, and I should have paid them more attention." He slapped his mechanical hand on the desk, and rose to pace the room.

"When you held the Darksaber, did you feel anything from it?" you enquired.

"No. And that troubles me too. How could someone who is not Force sensitive as far as we know hear it and I not? Unless..." he trailed off and turned to you. "Unless whatever was possessing it had got what it wanted. If possession is the right word. There's still so much we don't know."

"Which is why I need to go," you insisted.

"I will go myself," Luke said. "You are too close to this. If something is targeting you or Din, you need to stay far away from there. And I will not go until I am sure I have learned all I can about this situation." He spoke more softly toward you. "Go to him. Its the best thing you can do right now. And if you can, get some rest. We will resume tomorrow morning."

"The children-" you began.

"The children will be fine," Tolea interjected calmly. "And there is no sense in worrying about them or Grogu right now. Din may well be fully recovered tomorrow. Give it a night and see." You looked between she and Luke, feeling somehow that they were ganging up on you, even though what they were saying was perfectly logical and, you suspected, the right thing to do. You nodded and rose to leave the study.

"Before you go," Luke added, "Could you make out any words in what you were hearing when you held the Darksaber? Anything that might help?"

You shook your head slowly. "I don't think so. It was like a wall of sound. Of screaming in pain and anger and a weird thumping noise. But I should tell you something else that happened to me earlier." And you proceeded to inform him of your dream that you had had while meditating. "I don't know if its related, but the thumping kind of sounded the same and it seems like too much of a coincidence to not be linked."

"Agreed," Luke mused. "Go. I'll catch up with you tomorrow."

As you made your way back to the medbay, your mind was spinning once again. It was logical that Luke be the one to investigate the Temple, but something didn't sit entirely comfortably within you at that notion. You couldn't identify why, but you had a deep feeling that you should be the one to sort this mess out. Din was the most important part of your life and you wanted to be sure that proper justice would be done for the hurt he had suffered. Not that you didn't trust Luke, but you felt that with your additional investment in the situation, perhaps you would be more motivated to get answers. There was a part of you that wanted to just go, leave, fly off in the Haldon and fix it now, now, now. But you resisted the impulse. Din needed you and he came first. When you re-entered the room, Ka-Moon seemed to be running some tests, Din was sat up on the bed, his face covered once again.

"Well, the good news is that you are in wonderful physical shape," he was telling Din as he removed a sensor from the end of his finger. "And if you say you feel fine there isn't much more I can do for you at the moment. I would perhaps ask that you remain here overnight..." He trailed off as Din shook his head.

"I don't like hospitals," he grunted. "I won't get any rest."

"I'll be with him," you told Ka-Moon. "We'll go to my chamber here so we will be close by if anything happens." He inclined his head at you in acquiescence and moved off. Din reached for you as you approached and you took his hand and helped him to his feet. He was quite steady and apparently didn't need to lean on you. "Do you feel okay?" you asked. He nodded, but kept hold of your hand as he gathered his belongings from the chair.

Your chambers had remained almost untouched since your departure many months before. The droids had been in to clean and air the room and fresh bedding had been put on, so it wasn't dusty or dank, but it did have that sense of being unlived in that places get after a time with no one moving around in them. You lit the lamp by your bed and its soft yellow light permeated the room. Din shut the door behind him and deposited his clothes and armour on top of your dressing table, topping it with his helmet and then taking some time to look around him. The space was sparsely furnished and decorated. Everything that had meant the most to you, you had taken along with you upon your departure. Not that there was much, even then. The walls were dark panelled, similar to the room Tolea inhabited and this gave the room a cocoon-like quality. Strip lights were embedded in the walls, but you chose to leave them unlit - right now you wanted to make the room as conducive to sleep as possible. Some hangings in purple, pink and blue decorated the wall behind your bed. Their colours had reminded you of sunset on Naboo and you had bought them on impulse some years before. You had rescued Tolea's cushions from outside of the medbay and you stacked them neatly next to Din's armour before moving to the window and closing the curtains.

"Wait," Din instructed before you could block out the outside world entirely. He came up behind you, slid his arms around your waist and rested his chin on your shoulder, nuzzling his cheek against yours as he did and pulling you flush against his body. "I want to see the view."

"You can see much more of it when its not the middle of the night, Din," you smiled.

"Perhaps I meant the other view," he murmured as his finger snagged on the neckline of his undershirt, hanging so much more loosely than your usual garments and giving him an eyeful of your cleavage. You smiled fondly at his persistence and impetuosity.

"You just had quite an ordeal. Is this really the first thing you want to do?" you asked, half expecting it to be a rhetorical question. He held you even tighter to him and you were astonished to feel his breath hitch a little behind you. You tried to turn to him, to see his face and take him in your arms, but he held you firmly against him.

"I...just need you, cyar'ika. I do not know what happened today and that scares me. That is twice I have been afraid today, and twice I have told you so. What is happening to me? I do not think this place...I do not think it is for the likes of me. Perhaps there is a reason that there were no other Mandalorian Jedi. Maybe these worlds are not supposed to mix in this way." It shocked you, the uncertainty in his voice. It was so unlike Din to sound unsure. Even when he had no idea what he was doing, he would plough on ahead and try until he got the result he wanted through sheer force of will and bloody mindedness.

"You have me, Din. Always," you reassured him and all at once you remembered that amidst all of the worry and trauma of the afternoon, you had still not given him the good news. You squeezed his arms tighter around you and turned your face toward him, your lips brushing lightly over the tip of his nose as you added "If you still want me forever."

You heard the initial confusion in his voice as he said "Of course, why would I-" and the sudden joy that infused his words as he realised what you meant. "We will marry? You will not have to leave the Order?" He turned you to him as he spoke and held your upper arms. You smiled your answer at him and his lips crashed excitedly against yours. "Can we-I mean...I still don't know if you have a ritual to follow. But I want to do this. Now, if we can."

"Right now?" He nodded and cradled your face in one of his hands.

"I need you," he repeated.

"Don't we need someone to officiate? A witness?"

"Usually the head of the Clan is the one to hear the vows. I am the head of the Clan. I am...well, I am head of all the Clans..." he trailed off In a slightly embarrassed way and then continued swiftly as his eyes darted back to you. "We can reaffirm in front of the Tribe when we see them. We can do whatever ritual you wish in front of your Order. But I have been without you as my riduur for long enough. Besides, I wish to look upon you with my own eyes when we are joined."

"Yes," you whispered joyfully. "Let's do this." His smile was like the sunrise as he leaned forward to kiss you softly.

"I must teach you the words first," he smiled. He did and you spoke them slowly together, promising unity in all things, to share your lives in love forever and to raise Grogu and any other children you might have as warriors and looking with love and devotion upon the other as you did. He kissed you again afterward, the beautiful swell of his lips tenderly caressing over yours, the promises that had fallen from them captured between you in unbreakable bonds.

"My riduur," you murmured as you pressed your cheek against his chest, hearing the thunder of his heartbeat and his arms encircling you. "My love."

That night you held him. He lay on your bed with his back to you, looking out over the inky blackness of the planet's nightscape. One hand was around his stomach and curling up to his chest, stroking over his marred skin, and the other was softly stroking his curls while you placed occasional chaste kisses across the top of his back and shoulders, inhaling the heady masculinity of his scent as you did so. Your leg was hooked over his, resting against the sturdy muscle of his thigh and he stroked you there softly, seeming to just want the reassurance of your proximity. Long after he fell asleep you remained awake, your mind still unable to settle after the trauma of the day and the exhilaration of finally being joined with Din in all ways. He stirred a little, a small grunt emanating from him as he twitched in his sleep. Perhaps he too was reliving what had happened. You sent soothing, calm, loving feelings toward him and held him closer and he settled again, breathing a deep sigh and muttering nonsense to himself. Just before the dawn quite made itself known, when the sky was still blue enough to see the stars you succumbed to your weariness, slipping into a dreamless, formless unconsciousness but safe in the knowledge that Din was with you, now and always.

#the mandalorian #din djarin #star wars #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin x you #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x reader #darksaber shit

[pxssyliquor]

04. Numb/Carlesme pleaaaaase ☺️

mentions of abuse! so beware, please

spring, 1921

What Esme adored about him most was that he was nothing like other men in her life.

He was gentle and patient, and calm. It was the most important to her that he was calm. It made her feel safe by his side, even though she'd only known him for weeks. She knew no other man quite like him. He was a mystery yet, but one she couldn't wait to crack.

Every man she used to know was his polar opposite. Starting with her own father, always too impatient, too loud, often scaring her with his temper. Her brothers, lovely and humorous, but too impetuous, a trait they shared with their father. She loved them, but they never made her feel safe. Finally, there was her awful husband. She didn’t even like to think about him. They all thought of themselves as strong, perfect examples of men of their age, and for the longest time, that's what she'd expect from every man she met. That was until she met doctor Cullen and realized none of the men she once knew was half as worthy as him.

He was different than all of them in the best way, noble and proper with every fiber of his body. Everything about him fascinated Esme, from his extraordinary way of living to the fact that he was alive in time she knew from her favorite books. His kind eyes and polite smile made her trust him almost instantly, but the most important thing was that he never raised his voice at her. Never, not once. It was new to receive such a strong sense of security from a man. She'd learned a long time ago to expect the worst from them, but not from Carlisle.

She'd caught herself staring at him on multiple occasions. She'd watch him read, and she'd watch him play chess with Edward, and she'd always bashfully cast her eyes away, but she couldn't help the staring. There was something so fascinating about him that her eyes were drawn towards him wherever he went. It felt unholy to think about him so much, it felt dirty to want him close, but she couldn't help herself. She was fascinated with him and trusted him more than anyone.

Carlisle smiled at her from his armchair and went back to reading the newspaper. She was arranging Edward's vinyl records on the shelf - putting them in alphabetical order and swiping dust off them with a wet cloth. Nobody asked her to, but she liked doing little things like that.

"Could we go hunt tomorrow? When you come home from work?" she asked, keeping her gaze locked at the records.

"Yes, of course," Carlisle said, casually flipping through the pages. He liked how she started describing their cottage as their home. It felt domestic and good.

"You know you don't have to do it, right?"

"Do what?"

"All the cleaning," Carlisle went on, watching her as she walked away from the vinyl records and started dusting off the table. "There's no need for that, you're not our maid."

"I know that," she smiled, "but I also know a woman's place. I like it when things are clean, I always have."

He didn't say anything more, and she went back to her work. The truth was, she liked cleaning up their house. It felt like having a family to keep it clean for, and it kept her mind sane when it drifted off in unpleasant directions. She also wanted him to see how good a housewife she could be, although that thought was a bit embarrassing, even to admit to herself.

Her gaze stopped at him again, but she was still wiping the surface with a wet cloth, and she accidentally hit a blue, vintage vase standing on the table. Esme only really understood what she had done when the vase hit the wooden floor with a loud bang, shattering into a hundred tiny pieces, the water spilling onto the floor and wetting the white rug. Then, out of the blue, Esme wasn't in their safe living room anymore.

She froze, with eyes focused on the broken decoration, her hand still grasping the wet tablecloth, but her brain sank into a memory. A second of inattentiveness was enough for her to make such a mess. A mess for which, in another life, she would get punished.

And just like that, she was back in her human years, back in her and Charles' little cottage, back to when she broke his mother's vase, and he beat her until she bled. And just like that, she didn't expect Carlisle to act any other way than the men she once knew.

"Esme?"

Carlisle didn't need Edward's mind-reading gift to catch the immediate change in her behavior. She stood there, with her hand still grasped onto the table, but she became so absent and frozen with fear - not able to move or breathe, her lips started twitching.

"Esme, are you alright?" he repeated and walked over to her slowly, careful not to startle her. When he reached his hand and touched her elbow, she twitched strongly, and looked at him with such fear in her eyes he held his breath in surprise.

"I'm sorry," she whined, taking a step back and protectively embracing her stomach and chest with her arms. Carlisle was sure it was a reflex. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!"

"No, don't be, it's just a vase," Carlisle muttered, but he wasn't sure what he should do. The way Esme was looking at him took his breath away, and with a sudden thought, he realized that she was expecting him to hit her.

That thought made him shiver. He understood that she was trying to protect herself with her arms, assuming he'd harm her, and it broke his heart.

Her eyes got twice as big with fear, and she wept, which terrified him to the bone. She sat down on a chair, her hands still protectively around her stomach, but she started breathing again, taking sharp, panicked inhales. Cringed, she looked smaller than usual. So delicate and feminine, she should be protected by men, not terrified of them.

"Esme, I would never hurt you," Carlisle said softly, holding his hands up. He knew what a panic attack looked like, of course, he'd seen it many times during his long working years, but seeing Esme in that state was shattering. It was so hard to watch her suffer, but the trauma was a powerful thing. He could only hope she would get better one day.

"You're safe," he told her softly, and all he wanted was to hug her. He needed her to feel safe again, seeing her this scared was heart-wrenching. "I'm not him, Esme."

She sobbed again and hid her face in her hands, and he felt the worst was over.

"Can I touch you?" Carlisle asked, and she nodded faintly. When he stood by her and stroked her hair compassionately, she wrapped her arms around him tightly and tugged her face against the soft fabric of his sweater. She was still breathing shakily but feeling his fingers tangled in her hair, she believed she was safe again.

"I'm so sorry," Esme whispered, her entire body trembling. "I'm sorry, I don't know what took over me-"

"You don't have to apologize," he replied, his voice soft and smooth, and he rubbed her shoulders reassuringly to calm her down. "You don't have to be sorry for anything."

"I hate the way I am," she kept on speaking. "So scared and weak, always expecting the worst."

"Don't say that," Carlisle knelt in front of her and looked her straight in the eyes. "Please, don't talk this way about yourself. You're breaking my heart."

"But it's the truth."

"You have endured so many terrible things, Esme. Things no one deserves."

She nodded, but the guilt was still in her eyes.

"For a second I... I expected you to-"

"I know," Carlisle cut in her words and sighed. He tried not to take it personally. She was a wounded woman, and it was only natural for her brain to react this way, but he still felt his heart clench at the thought that she thought he’d hurt her. "I saw."

"I'm sorry. I know you would never- you're too good."

"Yes," he smiled at her and took her hand between his. Hers was way smaller, and fit his nicely. Esme was still embarrassed, and Carlisle saw that, but he was desperate for her to feel alright again. "I would never."

She looked him in the eye and let out a quiet sob again, but then chuckled, which made him frown.

"I broke your vase," she observed, and he smirked. "I'm sorry."

"It doesn't matter at all," Carlisle replied softly. "We'll buy another one, and you'll choose it this time."

"Sure?"

"Sure."

He smiled at her, and all she could think about was how safe he made her feel, and how different from the other men he was - in the best way possible.

#twilight #weronika writes #all the prompts in my inbox are so dramatic omg #yall are living for it arent you #lets make them suffer #carlisle x esme #carlesme #carlisle cullen #esme cullen #fanfiction #twilight fanfiction #twilight renaissance #prompts

[skylarmoon71]

TMNT 2014/2016 Raphael x Reader-(Short Story) Chapter 2

"You should have just let me take him, he was right there! "

"Come on Raph, we're just supposed to help not make it worse. Besides, we stopped the train. They won't be bringing in any more weapons." Raph grumbled, sheathing both his blades. Apparently they were discussing what took place in their most recent case. Raph lived to defy Leo, it wasn't anything new.

"Whatever, next time I'm going out on my own." he shoved Leo as he brushed passed. Leo grabbed his shoulder, halting him. 

"You're not going out on your own, we do this together Raph!" You really hated it whenever they fought. Despite that, you never said anything when it got like this. Even Mikey and Donnie knew better. Raph pushed Leo back roughly, and the blue bandana turtle hit a shelf close by. Lucky for him he had his shell to take the brunt of the hit. Unlucky for you, you didn't. You were on the other side of the cupboard, and when it started to fall you panicked.

Raph saw it falling, yelling out for you. You braced your hands, closing your eyes. You heard a few items clattering to the floor at the sides of you, but when you realized you were unharmed you looked up. Donnie had his arms spread, holding up the cupboard. He lifted it in the other direction, bracing it back against its previous spot. "Are you alright?" Leo was at your side in an instant, and you sighed relieved. You smiled at Donnie who was already checking your body for injuries.

"T-Thank you Donnie you might have just saved my life." He gave a sheepish smile rubbing his neck.

"I-It was nothing. "

Now that the danger was over, Leo glared at his brother. He stomped in his direction enraged. "What the hell are you doing! You could have really hurt (Y/N)!" You stepped over placing a hand on Leo's arm to calm him down.

"I-It's fine Leo. I-It was an accident. H-He didn't mean to." Raph would never intentionally harm you.

"Yeah Leo, listen to your girlfriend. " That made you a little annoyed. Because he was already angry, you just let it slide. Leo was still sizing Raph up, and you knew you wouldn't be able to handle it if they got into another fist fight because of you. Leo glanced down at the unease in your eyes. Reluctantly, his shoulders slumped. He stepped down, and Raph just wore an arrogant smirk.

"Just like you to fold. Sometimes I wonder why you're the leader." Leo didn't reply, taking your hand and guiding you out the room. You wanted to stay there and try to get both brothers to work out the problem, but you didn't have it in you to pull away from Leo's hold, especially since he looked so worried when he thought you would get buried under the cupboard. So as he pulled you along, you sent a longing look in Raph's direction. He looked up at the last second, right before you went around the corner. That split second, you could have sworn you saw a hint of hurt in his eyes.

~~~

"Are they still fighting?" you were chatting with Donnie on your cell phone. It was pretty late, and you knew you wouldn't be able to sneak out, so you were in your room, laying down on your bed.

"Yeah, don't worry too much. Master Splinter will make sure they don't go at each other's throats." you smiled.

"That's good to hear. Well I'll check in tomorrow. Spring break is about to begin so I'll get to spend more time with you guys."

"That's-"

"Hey is that (Y/N)? Dude what's up!!" you laugh hearing Mikey in the background.

"Hey Mikey, I was just telling Donnie about the upcoming break. We may finally get to settle that score in Call of Duty."

"I'm so gonna kick your butt!" You couldn't wait.

"I'll be looking forward to it." you spoke. After giving your goodbyes, you hung up the phone, flopping back on the mattress. Somehow you'd become a little better at interacting. Before meeting the turtles you pretty much avoid interacting with people.

For good reason to. But with them, it was never a challenge. Leo was like an older brother. Mikey the goofy childish younger brother. Donnie was like a middle child. Smart, techy and a little bit of a dork. Raph was obviously the rebel. Even with all their differences, it was weird that you found comfort trusting them rather than your own species.

Maybe it was because the turtles lived by a code. They were natural born protectors, saviors. At heart, their main purpose in life was helping. And they did. They helped you, not just physically. But also mentally, emotionally. If you could offer them the world, you would do it without a second thought.

You flinched when you heard a small knock on the glass on your window. You looked over at the curtains. Maybe it was a bat? You stepped out of bed, moving to check the glass. When you shifted the curtain, you were shocked at who was hanging unto your window sill.

"R-Raph!" you slapped your hand against your mouth, because that came out much louder than intended. Opening the window, you ushered him inside quickly. As soon as you did it you ran over, turning the latch on your door.

He was lucky your room was located in the back of the house, covered by trees in your yard. It would be pretty awkward if you had to explain him to your neighbors.

Now that you were no longer in autopilot, you stood by the door. Raph was still by your window. He rolled his shoulders after climbing through the small space. And now he was just standing there, clearly unsure of what to do, or say.

"This is awkward.." you had absolutely no idea why he came, and the fact that neither of you had ever had an actual conversation alone didn't help your nerves.

"This is stupid." He groused. You kept playing with your fingers. "W-Why are you....is something wrong back home with Leo?" at the mention of his brother's name his face turned sour. "It's always about him isn't it. Leo. I came all the way here to apologize to you and that's all you have to say!"

Unconsciously you took a step back. You never did like it when he yelled. Especially since this was the first time it was directed at you. Not just that, but yelling right now wasn't the best thing since your parents were only a couple doors down. He must have realized, because he turned his head. "Forget about it. I don't even know why I came." You could feel him fuming from all the way over there. And as much as you wanted to say something, you'd already irritated him, you didn't want to say anything to make it worse. Although at this point just about anything would.

"I'm sorry." you whispered. Raph stopped in his spot, looking over his shoulder.

"I-I know I barely ever talk to you. And I always make things awkward when it's us two. I don't mean too. A-And I didn't mean to get you in trouble with Leo the other day. I-It's my fault that you guys are fighting right now." In a way it was.

Raph sighed defeatedly. He came to apologize, and instead he scared you into doing what he should have done the moment he stepped in, instead of picking a fight.

"You didn't do anything wrong. I'm the one that always messes everything up."

"That's not true." When you said that he turned to you fully. You burrowed your hands behind your back, finally feeling a little confident now that he wasn't as pissed.

"You do have a bad temper, and you suck at taking orders, but you don't mess things up." Where those words came from, you had no clue. But you were liking your sudden boldness.

"Your brothers depend on you. You guys have each other, no matter how much you think you mess up, they'll always be there for you. You just need to be better at working through your issues rather than just walking away from them."

Raph was just standing there listening, he seemed to be actually taking in you words. When he sent you a small grin your cheeks darkened.

"Here I thought you were just a little shrimp. You're a lot braver than you look. " you giggled softly. "I mean, compared to you guys I really am." you joked. Raph was smiling at you, actually smiling. He looked so damn sexy when he smiled. "No! Stop it stupid brain! I'm actually having a conversation with him, don't' ruin it!" Right now really wasn't the best time to fall for his charms.

"Thanks (Y/N)." He was thanking you. Could your night get any better.

"(Y/N) sweety are you alright?" you stiffened, and Raph looked side to side panicking.

"Aw shit!" he mouthed. You shook your hands advising him not to make a sound or move.

" I thought I heard yelling."

"I-I'm fine Mom. It was j-just a nightmare. I didn't want to wake you or dad. I-I'm sorry."

"Nightmares, do you want to talk about it." you could tell she was offering to stay awake longer to help you.

"I'm really fine mom, I promise. It was nothing. I'm going to go back to sleep. "

"Are you sure? I can make you a cup of tea or something. "

"There's no need. I promise I'm fine. Just go back to sleep." She lingered at the door for a while, before she relented. "Alright, but if you change your mind let me know."

"I will. I love you mom."

"Oh sweetheart I love you too. Try and get some rest okay. "

"Yeah I will." You waited in your spot until you heard her footsteps retreating. When you heard her bedroom door close, you sighed, placing a hand to your chest.

"That was close." you whispered. Raph was smirking at you, and it did weird things to your chest.

"W-What?"

"Nothing." It didn't look like nothing.

 "Come on tell me why you're wearing that smug little woah!" you had planned to march over, but you slipped on something on your floor. Raph was quicker, he caught you almost instantly. You must have stopped breathing for at least a few seconds, because you just stayed there in his arms. Your eyes connected, and that's when you let out a shallow breath. Raph was just as taken as you. He didn't move a muscle, just held you upright. You palm flattened against his chest, eyes never straying from his hypnotic gaze. With him slightly bent, all you had to do was lean up a few inches and you could close that space.

"Raph.." the sound of his name broke the spell. He straightened your body, pulling away. He cleared his throat, taking a couple steps back. "I should get going I need to-" he knocked into your desk behind on his way to leave and you winced at the sound that echoed. Raph froze, listening to make sure he didn't give your mother another reason to come back. When there wasn't any sound he relaxed, moving to your window.

"Be careful." you said gesturing to his head as he almost ran right into the glass. He just gave a force laugh, raising the window glass. You smiled. He was sort of cute like this. All fidgety. He ducked, creeping out the way he came in. "I'll come by tomorrow." you stated.

"Yeah..." he responded, but it didn't sound like he was really listening. He looked distracted.

"I guess I'll see you tomorrow then."

He nodded, inching up the wall.

"Yeah tomorrow." And just like that, he was flipping to the top of your roof. You bent your head, watching as he took off into the night.

You were looking forward to tomorrow, that was for sure.

#raphael #leonardo #donatello #michelangelo #teenage mutant ninja turtles #shy reader #fights #raphxreader #scaredoflove #ninjaturtles #tmnt 2016 #tmnt 2014 #hurt #Crushes #splinter #sam smith #fire on fire

[another-rogue-trevelyan]

Five favorite writing bits from 2020

I was tagged by @kunstpause and @potatowitch thank you so much for this tag! It was fun to reflect on my writing from this year. I only really started in July, so I’m looking forward to things to come!

Mostly, this will be passages from my Cullen/Trevelyan fic, but there is a Greedfall excerpt that I technically think I wrote last year???

Under the cut because this got long

Sides of the Coin (unpublished as of 1/21)

“Kurt, clearly I’m useless today. Perhaps we should try again tomorrow. I’m sure I have enough bruises for one day.”

“Anyone who wants you dead won’t care if you’re distracted and bruised. I’m not letting you get yourself killed because you’re having an off day. I can’t always be there to watch your back. You need to be able to save yourself. Now raise your blade and try it again.”

She lunged toward him, but he easily parried the strike, which had been performed more in irritation than any thought that it may be a good idea.

“Still sloppy.” He advanced on her, and Corinne barely managed to swat away his strikes with her blade, stumbling backward on exhausted legs.

“Kurt…”

“Come on Green Blood, defend yourself! I know I taught you better than this! What would your uncle think of this performance?”

She swung hard, meeting Kurt’s blade with unexpected force and pushing him back. She advanced on the offensive, landing blow after blow as he frantically parried aggressive strikes.

“Corinne-“

His unusual use of her name did nothing to dissuade her assault as she hailed down upon him. She was an indomitable storm, striking mercilessly as Kurt did his best to block without harming her.

“Corinne, what are you-“

“Stop… treating me…. like a…. child!” she panted through her onslaught.

“I’m not!” Kurt yelled as their blades clashed. They pushed against one another, eyes meeting across the steel. “I’m treating you like someone I don’t want getting killed!”

“You’re talking to me the same way you did when I was fifteen! What are you going to do, tell on me to my uncle? Go ahead! He’s months away by sea!”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it!” Kurt shoved hard, both of their blades swinging wildly to the side as they both stumbled backward. “I don’t understand why you’re so angry!”

“Because I am a grown woman, Legate of the Congregation of Merchants, and the only reason Constantin hasn’t destroyed the colony yet, and you’re talking to me like a teenager with her first blade!”

“Because you’re fighting like a teenager with her first blade!”

Hearts Like Lions, Chapter 18

“I’ve been told you were romantically involved with the Empress.”

“I didn’t take you for a gossipmonger, Inquisitor,” Briala said, smiling sadly.

“Is it true?”

“Would it be so terrible if it was? It is lonely at the top, Your Worship - something it seems you know well. Is your own Commander not warming your bed?”

“My personal affairs are not threatening Empires.”

“Aren’t they?”

Hearts Like Lions, Chapter 17

Evelyn looked him over, sensing the dread that filled him. Though he insisted otherwise, the group that had accosted him had shaken him. If she could help it, it wouldn’t happen again.

“Cullen, what if I told you there was a way to keep them off of you?” She looked up at him nervously, and Cullen’s brows knit together in confusion.

“What do you mean?”

Evelyn pulled the silken kerchief from her breast pocket, running her thumb over the embroidered lettering.

E.T. Modest in Temper, Bold in Deed.

Bold, indeed.

Hearts Like Lions, Chapter 3

Cullen hastily took the reports from the scout and set about finding a quiet corner of the Chantry to work in. Ordinarily he’d prefer to work outside, but he had been waiting for the reports from the Hinterlands since the Herald… no, Evelyn... and her team had left weeks ago, and their importance required a focus only a quiet room could provide.

Cassandra’s was on top. Unsurprisingly, her reports were clean and concise, detailing their endeavors and findings in the form of an organized list. Her information was useful, and Cullen took note of anything he may need to pass on to Josephine and Leliana. As he copied down the details, he noticed Cassandra’s final entry, written below her other notes.

Our arrival at the Crossroads was met with resistance from rebel mages and Templars. The Herald was pinned beneath a Templar and held by the neck. I was able to stop the Templar, but the Herald suffered minor bruising. After a week of fighting beside her, I have determined her lost footing was not a mistake. The Herald is an extremely well-trained rogue.

CP

Cullen stared at the report, as though his gaze could bring further explanation. One of the first rules of combat training was to never let your enemy take you to the ground, especially for rogue fighters, who often wore lighter armor. He pulled out the next report, hoping it would contain more information.

The next came from Solas, who had thoroughly described the area, citing historical sites, locations of natural materials, and possible locations to camp. It was actually quite useful, but didn’t answer his question about the incident with the Templar. That was until he realized the pages had stuck, and there was one more note on the final page.

Evelyn suffered a minor injury to the neck caused by an altercation with a rebel Templar. Though she claimed to not be bothered by it, she moved her head tenderly, and the discoloration turned to dark bruising. I applied an elfroot salve to the affected area that evening, but there was not much that could be done for it. It has been healing well on its own.

Solas

Cullen flipped immediately to the next report, hoping to find something else.

Curly,

Have I mentioned that I hate the wilderness? The Ferelden cold bites as harshly as its war dogs. It has been two weeks since we parted with civilization. Since then, it has been nothing but hastily made camps. Rams feed on the grasses of rolling hills, while their predators lurk in hidden caves beyond view…

Cullen groaned. Varric’s report was far thicker than the others. His clean yet elaborate scrawl continued for pages. While entertaining, it made it difficult to find the information he needed. He skimmed through until he found what he was searching for.

When we arrived at the Crossroads, we were attacked from both sides by mages and Templars alike. Our team was caught in the middle, and neither group cared to differentiate between us and the enemy. They even went so far as to turn hostile against Inquisition soldiers and refugees. A Templar almost killed a refugee woman, but Evelyn tackled him to the ground at the last moment, giving her enough time to escape and saving her life. Unfortunately, once on the ground, the Templar was able to pin Evelyn down by the throat. The Seeker managed to pull him off and kill him before things could get worse, but the Herald was bruised for days. Trust me when I say we need to watch her, Curly. I’ve seen firsthand what this world does to heroes.

V.

Hearts Like Lions, Chapter 10

“Of course,” Evelyn said, intently picking lint from her sleeve. “I’ll be down in just a moment.” Once they were gone, Evelyn looked toward the floor, appearing far more sullen than she had just moments prior.

“Is something wrong?” Cullen asked. Evelyn sighed.

“It’s Alexius’s judgement. It’s one thing in the field, when someone attacks you - when you know it’s you or them. But to sit on a throne and condemn… What Alexius did was terrible, but he only wanted to save his son. I can’t say I don’t understand. Sometimes I wonder if I’d have done the same, in his place. But then I remember that future…” she placed her hands on her hips, biting her lower lip and trembling with rage. “It was horrible, Cullen. They imprisoned our friends - used their bodies to mine red lyrium. It infected everything! Then they tortured Leliana, destroyed the Inquisition, and I didn’t know what happened to my family, or what happened to you, and I… Dammit!” As she dabbed a tear away with her glove, Cullen impulsively wrapped his arms around her. He did so awkwardly, at first, but then he relaxed, resting his chin atop her head as Evelyn eased into him.

“Why didn’t he attack me? Why couldn’t I have killed him then, in the heat of battle, without having to worry about whether or not it was right? And now I don’t know if I can…”

“You can,” Cullen said softly. “I know it won’t be easy, but you can.” Evelyn breathed deeply, allowing the comforting scent of oakmoss to calm her.

“I’m sorry,” she said when she finally pulled back, immediately missing the comfort his arms had brought. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me.”

“Don’t be sorry, Evelyn. It’d be more concerning if nothing troubled you.”

“Tell that to my parents,” she said sadly, gazing at her boots. Cullen gently tilted her chin upward with his hand, guiding her eyes to him.

“You can do this. I’ll support whatever you decide. And I heard from a reliable source that the kitchen staff have been baking cakes all afternoon, so when it’s all over we’ll get you a slice of cake and a glass of that wine Josephine hid in here. Alright?” He slid his hand through her hair and Evelyn laughed, sniffling a bit.

“I do love cake. But no more than one glass of wine. I’m a bloody lightweight.”

“I’ll remember that.”

“Thank you, Cullen.” Evelyn smiled up at him, feeling a bit better. The gaze changed when she realized just how close they were, his hand resting on the back of her neck, and she couldn’t stop her eyes from wandering to the scar on his lip. Her heart pounded as she realized he had done the same, and the desire to feel his lips on hers consumed her.

Then she remembered where they were.

How long had it been since she last had a man in her bedroom? Alone? And this was not just any man. It was Cullen. Cullen, who she looked forward to seeing each day, who she thought of frequently in the field, who had cared for her after the fall of Haven, who she worried for at night. There was no denying she cared for him, and if the look in his eyes was any indication...

The thought made her nervous, and she glanced toward the bed and back to him, cursing herself as he followed her glance. He blushed furiously when he realized where she had looked, and Evelyn felt the heat rising in her own cheeks as they pulled away.

“Perhaps… we should…” Cullen spluttered.

“I… should get down there,” Evelyn managed.

“Of course.” Evelyn started toward the door, then turned to find Cullen still looking after her.

“You should come.”

“Right,” Cullen said, quickly following.

Tagging @kemvee @noire-pandora @hawkeish @musetta3 and anyone else who wants to!

#tags #another rogue trevelyan fanfiction #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #dragon age fanfiction #Greedfall #inquisitor x cullen #cullen x trevelyan #cullen rutherford #commander cullen

[artificialqueens]

In Sickness and In Health Ch7 - shalaska - pureCAMP

A/N - It’s been a looong day without you my friend…

Oops. I’m sorry. I am a busy busy bee and I love you all!!

Last time: Under Yvie’s control, Alaska forced Sharon to leave without her. She starts an ill-advised plot to feed her a taste of her own medicine.

This time: That won’t happen (CEO of changing ur mind xo)

“I need your help, urgently. I cannot do this alone.”

Three pairs of eyes. One narrowed slightly, almost squinting, silver-blue and filled with desperation. The other two curious, eyebrows furrowed, calm and yet intrigued.

“What an odd greeting. I’ve never seen you like this.”

“No one has. But I need you, both of you. Please.”

A pause. Two pairs of eyes regarded the first, each watching for something different. Nothing but sincerity lay within them, the pain and honesty laced within her voice.

“I had heard you were unwell, is it true? You seem to be in good health now.”

“It’s true. I’m well again, at a terrible price. I have lost something dear to me, and I have every intention of getting it back, but I can’t do it alone. I have a feeling I’m not the only one to have suffered this fate.”

Sharon sat rigidly straight as she spoke with the other two women, her hands folded in her lap to keep them from shaking. Ever since she was a little girl, she had been taught not to express emotional extremes to anyone outside of the palace, just in case they should turn against her. Even some of the palace staff should be spared from such moods, she was told, in case they might gossip. Only Miss Michaels knew the true extent of her temper. The thought of bearing her heart in front of two different kingdoms - it was scandalous. Her father would’ve thrown a fit, ironically, if he could see her behaviour.

There was a certain level of respect that the other women needed, Sharon knew that. Their three kingdoms were not currently the greatest of allies, but Sharon was working on it and planned to even more once she had been crowned. An allyship would be greatly beneficial to all three of them, and Sharon saw no harm in starting early, even if she was still just a princess whilst they were queens. Never mind that it was highly unorthodox for Sharon to even ask two queens for a personal favour.

Queen Brooke was very charitable and a pleasure to talk to at a ball, but in the setting of a meeting between three royals in her own parlour, she was a little intimidating. Her blonde hair was swept into a neat bun, silver tiara resting atop, and her cold grey eyes stared impassively forwards. In front of her, an ornate teacup sat on a dish, undrunk. 

Queen Scarlet was a totally different story. Her coronation had been more recent than Brooke’s, and whether formal or informal, she was a calamity of a person. Sharon’s father had warned her that partnering with Scarlet’s kingdom was a no-go, given that they were ruled by a young woman who had once been incarcerated and treated for hysterical madness, but Sharon had always quite liked the strange queen. Having recovered from her insanity, she was a fairly successful and friendly ruler.

“Your letter was distressing. I thought perhaps our kingdoms were on the brink of war, and we needed to negotiate.” Brooke’s voice was level, measured. Sharon decided she would be a fantastic person to emulate once she was a leader.

“No, not at all. I’m here about something much more serious. Her name is Yvie.”

At once, the atmosphere shifted. Previously in control, Brooke’s eyes widened ever-so-slightly and she drew in a sharp intake of breath. Next to her, once carefree and kindly concerned, Scarlet looked as though she had seen a ghost.

Thank fuck, Sharon thought to herself. A reaction. If any of her research and guesswork had been incorrect, she might as well have kissed goodbye to her kingdom, her alliances, her family and her life.

“What… What about her?” Scarlet winced, the terror in her voice painfully evident. It was clear that she didn’t want to hear that name, or she hadn’t for a long time. Something about it arose memories that she had most likely tried to forget.

“She cured my sickness. She brought me back from the brink of death so that I can sit here before you now as healthy as I ever was. Not a single physician could cure me, but she did in an instant.”

Brooke’s eyes were glassy. “At a price.” The words left her lips without a thought, drawn out as though in a trance, or by force. She swallowed roughly and hardened her gaze.

“What price?”

Sharon closed her eyes, her mind filling with hazy memories. A sweet common girl with her hand stuck firmly in the air, stood up in front of everybody. Alaska, with her joyful laugh and fighting spirit. The feeling of safety as she slept in her lap, her arms, by her side, comforted with the knowledge that if she died, she would have died alongside somebody who really cared.

“The price of a loved one.” Sharon equalled Brooke’s stare, confident now that she was armed with facts that would ensure Brooke’s cooperation or the ruin of her kingdom. “I believe you wanted prosperity for your kingdom in the midst of a crisis. Your commerce and trade had dwindled to almost nothing. Your people were dying, it was necessary. You needed Yvie’s help and the price was Vanessa.”

There was no stopping her now. “Vanessa, a commoner who worked as a lady-in-waiting for you whilst you were a princess, and continued when you became queen. The two of you were in love and so she accompanied you on what appeared to be a perilous journey. Yvie demanded her as a commodity and you gave her up.”

Perhaps her attack was a little harsh, but Sharon had no time to worry about that. Brooke’s face was flushed crimson, though with anger or shame, she couldn’t be sure. Her fists were clenched so tightly that her knuckles were white, and it seemed the more stoic queen was losing her propriety with every word that came out of Sharon’s mouth.

“How do you- How do you know about that?” She demanded. “I never told a soul.”

Scarlet was watching the exchange with an expression of sheer melancholy, saying nothing. Sharon knew her turn would come, but she needed to focus her attention on Brooke, and it seemed that Scarlet was content to listen and say nothing for the time being.

“Gossip, rumours, and a little bit of research assistance from a kindly witch. But that doesn’t matter. What matters is, I can help you or hurt you. You can have your lover back, or have the reputation of your kingdom shattered. It seems like an easy choice.”

In hindsight, delivering such an outright threat to a powerful Queen when Sharon herself was still only a princess… was a little risky. But there was no time to back out, and judging by the way Brooke’s nostrils had flared, her face pinched in abject fury, the damage had already been done.

“I don’t know who you think you are, Princess, but I-”

Sharon prepared herself to be sentenced to execution, or to be exiled from her land, or to have a cup of hot tea thrown at her, but instead, Brooke was cut off by Scarlet, who placed a gentle hand on her leg and looked forlorn.

“Yvie… She didn’t want them to take me away. She wanted to help me herself.” Her gaze dropped into her lap. “I went crazy. It’s not fake, it’s not rumours. I was insane. The facility helped me. But Yvie…” Scarlet blinked, her eyes filling with tears. “She was so angry that I went with them. I wasn’t in control, but she felt so betrayed by it… Is this what she’s been doing? Taking people’s loved ones?”

The story started clicking into place, and Sharon’s heart sank. She had questioned Max within an inch of her life about everything relating to Yvie, naturally, but she hadn’t made the connection that Yvie’s hard bargains were inspired by her perceived betrayal.

“Yvie has been doing these kind of deals for years, that always come at a price. My sickness was my parents’ price. But it seems people are the currency now, since she lost you, Scarlet. We need to go to her, get them back, and… Scarlet, maybe you and Yvie can work something out.” She paused. “My family don’t know I’m here. They think I’m still on the journey to the witch who can heal me, or perhaps still with her being treated. I have nothing to lose and everything to gain.”

Brooke frowned, her eyebrow furrowing. “Your kingdom?”

“It’s not mine yet.” She shrugged. “I don’t even want to rule it without Alaska there. I don’t think I can.”

A silence settled over them. There was nothing else to be said - three noblewomen having shared their sorrows in the unlikeliest of situations. After a moment, Sharon picked up her teacup and held it before her, offering a solemn, unspoken toast. Brooke and Scarlet joined her.

“Please.”

-

Alaska folded her arms and flopped back down onto the ground, where Vanessa lay beside her. They had schemed a million times by now, it seemed, and nothing would work.

“You were right. It’s not like we can trick her into drinking her own truth serum that she made us brew! She’s not that stupid.”

Vanessa puffed her cheeks out. “She’s fuckin’ smart, it’s the worst. I’m startin’ to think I’m never gettin’ outta here, and maybe I shoulda figured that out a while ago.”

Alaska shook her head. “Yeah. This might be it, for us. But at least we have each other, right?”

“Sure. You’re all I got, now.” She hummed. “Your princess seemed pretty set on coming back here, though. Must be nice.”

A grimace made its way onto Alaska’s face; it was the only thing that could hold her tears back. “I hope. I hope she’s fighting for us.”

In the beginning of her time with Yvie, Sharon had been all she’d thought about to get through the day. Those few minutes that she had been able to see her in full health and beauty again, when she had seen a flicker of the righteous anger of a queen instead of the feeble protestations of a princess. Even dwelling on the way her eyes had filled with furious tears and heartbreak was better than nothing at all, as something of a comfort to remind Alaska that once, she had known her.

Still, the memories got more painful as time went on, and she soon decided that perhaps it was best to not think about her. As much as she wished Sharon was out fighting for her, amassing an army to storm Yvie for her return or maybe bargaining and charming her way back, she doubted it. Princesses had to adhere to strict rules.

She missed Willam, and Courtney. It had been forever since she’d thought about them, and she wondered if they were anxiously waiting for her to come home. What she wouldn’t give to see their faces again.

“Let’s just get back to work.” Alaska sighed, feeling miserable. “If we haven’t cleaned up Yvie’s mess by the time she comes back, we’re done for.”

Vanessa nodded. “Alright, Blondie, let’s go. We got fuckin’… books to shelve, or whatever. I didn’t listen to what she asked.”

Reluctantly, Alaska pulled herself up and made her way into the centre of the cottage. The room was cluttered and messy from Yvie’s musings, and she had ventured out into the surrounding forest a short while ago, leaving her two servants to clean everything up. At least it was a distraction from the boredom, Alaska thought, even as the spilled potion she wiped up with a rag started to burn her hand. It was better than nothing.

Yvie returned with a bag slung over her shoulder and an irritated expression, meaning that no doubt, she would take out her anger on Vanessa and Alaska.

“That’s the last time I listen to Raven, stupid fucking creature.” She hissed, throwing her bag down upon the newly-swept floor. “And now this isn’t even done! Do I have to do everything myself, you imbeciles?”

Alaska bowed her head. “We’re working on it.”

“I’ve a half mind to-”

Yvie trailed off abruptly, freezing in place. Vanessa stared at Alaska in confusion, the both of them watching Yvie to see if there was a reason for her unusual behaviour.

“The wards.” Her voice came out hardly a whisper above silence. “She wouldn’t dare…”

She turned suddenly. “The two of you, out. Now.”

As before, they were all but shoved back into the small room they shared. Vanessa scrambled towards her small pile of belongings and produced two strange-looking opalescent lenses. She handed one to Alaska and pressed it against the wall.

“I took these fuckin’ forever ago because I thought they looked pretty, but you can see through shit with ‘em. I wanna know why she’s so fuckin’ rattled.”

Alaska did the same, shuffling as close as she could to look through the wall. The lens focused just in time, as Yvie graciously opened the front door and offered a chilling smile.

“Sister.”

Yvie laughed. “Ha! You have a lot of nerve to walk down my path, let alone to address me as your sister. Most inferior witches tend to avoid associating themselves with superior witches, do they not?”

Max stood, tall and unwavering in the doorway, her short silver hair moving in the wind. “Perhaps they do, sister. You know I care little for which of us is better or worse. But I have been incited to care about which of us is good or bad.”

“A truly wonderful philosophical concept. I’d invite you in to debate it over some tea, but I don’t trust myself not to poison yours with belladonna.” Yvie’s voice was dripping with sickly sweet venom. Alaska shuddered at the sound of it. “Why do you dare to come to my door?”

Max remained still. “See for yourself.”

Almost at the exact same time, Alaska and Vanessa sprung backwards from the wall and darted towards the door, seemingly sensing the same thing. Anticipation and fear wrestled angrily in the pit of Alaska’s stomach, but she had to see if her hunch was right. The two all but fell over each other as they stumbled into the centre of the cottage once again, gazing open-mouthed out of the front door.

The sight that met them could’ve been an illustration from the beautiful book Sharon had read to Alaska in the carriage. A few feet behind Max, two proud stallions pawed the ground, their riders equally as dignified and powerful. Alaska didn’t recognise one of them, a pale blonde wearing regal purple riding gear, but the other was a face she could never forget, even in the deepest of nightmares.

Sharon’s face was resolute, her body language firm and unmoving. Like the other rider, she wore jodhpurs and a shirt, an outfit unbefitting for a queen or a princess but perfectly suited to a courageous storybook heroine. The other woman held Sharon’s hand and lifted their arms into the air, at the same time as Vanessa and Alaska clung to each other in disbelief.

“Oh my god. That’s my Brooke.”

Alaska couldn’t muster speech, but she didn’t need to. Behind the two, cavalry reinforcements waited for their command, leaving Yvie well and truly outnumbered.

“Let them go.” Sharon climbed off her horse, Brooke doing the same. As they approached the door, where Yvie looked dumbfounded and furious, she shot Alaska a brief, reassuring gaze. “That’s an order.”

Yvie kept her cool in spite of the army facing her. “Oh dear… someone seems to have forgotten that we made a deal.”

Brooke smiled. “Do you have it in writing? What happens if we take them?”

“This.”

Yvie snapped her fingers, and in an instant, she and Vanessa were hoisted into the air, suspended by thorny vines. Alaska could feel that one of them had drawn blood, but regardless she strained and struggled against the bonds. They had to win this. Freedom was so close. 

“We thought you might do something like that.” Sharon crossed her arms. “Your Majesty?”

Brooke stepped closer. “Another deal, then. Make a new deal with us to overwrite these previous ones. We have something you won’t wanna miss out on, and your sister here as a witness in case you try to fuck us over. It’s that, or we take them by force and destroy our offer to you.”

Yvie snorted. “Sure. A failure of a Queen and what, some pathetic little Princess have something I would want? I have power, the more you’re indebted to me, the better. Why should I agree to this? Why shouldn’t I just…”

She snapped her fingers again. The vines tightened, smaller ones creeping their way around to Alaska and Vanessa’s throats. They choked and coughed, the vines only squeezing more as they tried to resist. Tears came to Alaska’s eyes, the pain and fear overwhelming her. Whatever this power play was, it needed to work.

Sharon’s glare was murderous, but her jaw was firm and resolute. “Fine.” She unsheathed the dagger hanging from her belt, which Alaska immediately recognised from their visit to the palace from what felt like years ago. “I was loaned this dagger by another kingdom. We could wage another several wars by me desecrating this blade with the blood of another royal, thus pitting kingdom against kingdom against kingdom, which surely means a lot of deals made in your favour…”

With a tiny nod, both Sharon and Brooke stepped aside at the same time, allowing a third woman to step forward between them. Her head was held high, regal, but her pretty face was marked with disgust.

“But that also means killing Queen Scarlet here. I’m sure you won’t have an issue with that if you get so much power from it, right?”

She levelled the dagger at Scarlet’s throat, just below her chin. All three royals stood defiant, while Yvie’s face went slack. Without warning, the vines receded and disappeared, and Alaska and Vanessa hit the ground with a thud. It hurt, and Alaska’s hands went straight to her neck as she tried to catch her breath, but her gaze remained firmly on the spectacle in front of her. It was unparalleled - Yvie, silent, dumbfounded.

“Sc… Scarlet?”

She nodded, and Sharon lowered the blade, sheathing it. “It’s me. But I’m not sure you’re you. I don’t remember the Yvie I knew being this cruel.”

Yvie swallowed thickly. “They took you away. I could’ve fixed you but they took you away and you let them!”

“I needed to go!” Scarlet grabbed Yvie’s shoulders, steadying her. “But I’m back, and I’m fine, and I’m successful. You don’t have to do this. The old you would never do this.”

“She wouldn’t?”

“She wouldn’t. Don’t forget how well we knew each other, Yves.”

“I couldn’t forget. You’re unforgettable.”

“Let them go.” Scarlet’s voice was gentle, but commanding. “You have to let them go.”

Yvie whirled around, her eyes landing on where Alaska and Vanessa were crumpled on the ground, recovering. They still clung to one another, and her eyes seemed to widen at their desperation, as though she had no idea that she had caused it.

“How can I? Give them over, face trial, go to the dungeons, lose everything?” She was growing frantic.

Scarlet held out her hand. “No trial. No dungeons. I’m taking you home. Let them go.”

There was an ever-so-slight inclination of Yvie’s head, but that was enough. Both girls got to their feet without wasting a second, and whilst Alaska was sure Vanessa had run straight into Brooke’s arms, she didn’t bother looking to check. Every fibre of her being was pulling her towards Sharon, some kind of invisible magnetic connection forcing them together. She gave in to the impulse, almost throwing herself into her lover’s waiting arms.

“I’m so sorry it took so long I’m so glad you’re safe,” Sharon rushed out in one breath, her lips pressed against the top of Alaska’s head as she buried her face in her blonde hair. Alaska could hardly breathe, pressing herself into the crook of Sharon’s neck, just letting the feel of her skin against her own say everything that she couldn’t articulate.

“You came back.” Alaska’s heart was pounding. “You really came back.”

Sharon clung to her. “Of course. I could never leave you behind. You risked everything for me.”

It felt like centuries ago that Alaska’s only motivation had been the money. The reward was still a tantalising offer in the back of her mind, but almost all of her other thoughts were consumed with nothing but bliss. She had taken on a seemingly impossible task to find a cure for a cursed princess who wanted nothing but to die, and would return with the princess alive and well, and madly in love.

Willam and Courtney were going to lose their minds.

“How do we proceed from here?” She asked, her voice muffled against Sharon’s skin. “What happens now?”

Sharon tensed for a moment, but she relaxed again so quickly that Alaska thought maybe she’d imagined it. “Well, Her Majesties Queen Brooke and Queen Scarlet will come to the kingdom with the two of us, as they deserve equal credit and respect for removing the witch problem. You’ll receive your reward. I’ll deal with some business and then… I don’t know what. But I want you to stay in the palace, if you accept. You don’t have to, if you’re more comfortable in your home with your friends, I just thought maybe-”

Alaska silenced her with a kiss, and then smiled. “I’ll think about it. Let’s get home, yeah?”

-

The journey back to Sharon’s kingdom was pleasant, and uneventful. Scarlet and Yvie left together in a carriage, already discussing plans for a formal pardon and perhaps even to instate her as an apothecary in Scarlet’s kingdom. Alaska wasn’t exactly comfortable with the idea, but she knew better than to argue with a queen, and since it didn’t affect her own kingdom, she held her tongue. Brooke and Vanessa took a carriage together too, seemingly too wrapped up in each other to really notice anyone else. As Alaska helped Sharon into their carriage, she was pleased to find that the dread that previously filled her chest was gone. 

It was still awe-inspiring, how miraculous her recovery had been. Alaska swore her hair had never been so dark and glossy, her eyes so bright, her lips so pink. She could spend hours just looking, taking her in, if only she could resist the urge not to kiss her whenever the sunlight hit her face.

With Sharon’s life no longer hanging in the balance, the journey seemed to pass much faster than it had before, although the days and nights stopping and starting still grew a little bit tedious. By day, they did everything they could to distract one another - Sharon had been reading fairytales with her again, and Alaska felt shyly proud of being able to muddle her way through a couple of pages at a time. Sometimes they sang, Alaska showing off the lewd, patriotic, and always drunk songs that people sang in the tavern to make them both laugh. Or they would just talk; endlessly, for hours, with comparisons of their lives and general excitement for the future.

But at night, things were different. They would both curl up to sleep, often leaning against one another, but Alaska kept noticing how Sharon’s eyes would stay open long after she’d fallen silent, staring out as if in thought. She didn’t probe, but it concerned her. She sincerely hoped Sharon hadn’t sacrificed anything for her - she couldn’t think of anything worse than the whole cycle repeating again.

As they approached the edge of the kingdom, Sharon drew the curtains shut around the carriage to give them a little more privacy, and they made their way into the centre, towards the palace. Brooke and Scarlet had stopped for a few days in another kingdom, and would be following in a week or so once life had settled back into a normal pace with Sharon’s return. Excitement was starting to take hold; Alaska’s life was about to change forever.

She still hadn’t decided what she would do, yet. A life in the palace sounded tempting, but she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to get mixed up in all the politics of royal life. A part of her wondered about taking the money, buying a decent sized home somewhere nice in the kingdom, and living with Willam and Courtney, working only because they wanted to, not out of necessity. Sharon could visit anytime as an escape from the difficulties of being a leader, and they’d be in love just the same.

Alaska loved Sharon, but she didn’t know if the palace was somewhere she’d thrive. After all, she’d spent her entire life humble, or in other words, dirt poor. She wondered if it would be too big of a change.

When the carriage came to a stop, Sharon took a deep breath, and started to laugh.

“My god. I just realised I have so many apologies to give. I was such an asshole when I was sick.” She giggled nervously. “I hope Laila forgives me. Being her age is rough.”

Alaska nodded. “Honestly. I know they’ll all forgive you, though. It wasn’t like you could control it.”

It didn’t feel like Alaska’s place to intrude into the palace, or even to step out of the carriage first, so she smiled and waved her hand, allowing Sharon the first glimpse of her home since they’d left. For a moment, just briefly, Sharon hesitated, as if she wasn’t sure, and then drew the curtain back and moved to step down. It struck Alaska right in the chest - she hadn’t expected to be coming home. When they’d departed, seemingly forever ago, she had been on the very brink of death and expecting it to take her. 

A part of her wondered if the reason she had even agreed to go on a treacherous journey to find a witch had been solely to allow her family the privacy to mourn her without having to witness her death within the palace walls. It was a dark thought, and she shook it out of her mind. The what-ifs didn’t matter, not anymore. Sharon was safe and well, and she glowed with life.

The palace was much less intimidating without the entire royal family welcoming her into it. Around her, members of staff were busily cleaning and scurrying and working, almost paying no attention to their special arrival, although Alaska swore she could see a few nudges and smiles as they undoubtedly gossiped. Sharon made to start walking inside, only to stop in her tracks as a woman ahead of them did the same thing.

Miss Michaels was working by the palace gates, sweeping the leaves and dust from the ground, but the moment she locked eyes with Sharon, the broom fell from her grasp with a clatter. Her face twisted with a mixture of sorrow and relief, an expression that could only reflect a mother’s love. She all but ran towards them, enveloping Sharon in her arms.

“My girl… my sweet, gorgeous girl…” Alaska could hear the thickness in her voice, in turn making her well up at their reunion. She pulled back only to hold Sharon by the arms, taking in as much of her as she could before resuming the embrace. “Oh, look at you! You look like a summer’s day! Oh, darling girl…” 

Sharon sniffed, not too good to hide her tears. “Mother Dust… were you worried I wouldn’t come home?”

“Not at all,” Miss Michaels told her. “Just infinitely glad that you did. Come on, we have to get you inside this instant. Your family will be overjoyed, dear. And you too, Alaska! The hero of our story.”

Alaska blushed, pretending to herself that it was from the compliment, and not from how easily Sharon took her hand as they started walking. “Oh, I can’t take all the credit.”

“Yes she can,” Sharon butted in, “And she should. She gave me a reason to keep fighting.”

Miss Michaels raised her eyebrows, a small smile playing on her lips. Alaska felt as though her heart was going to beat right out of her chest.

“Oh, she did?”

Sharon laughed. “I didn’t say you could tease me.”

“My dear. I’ve changed you, bathed you and fed you. I don’t need permission to do a little light teasing.”

“I love you, Mother Dust. So… let’s go console my grieving family, right?”

Sharon’s hand slipped into Alaska’s so naturally as they made their way up the palace steps, and yet it almost took her breath away. She didn’t know what the royal family would make of this - hell, she didn’t know how Sharon was going to play it. They were in love, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t a complicated situation. Future queens were rarely seen marrying commoners, let alone female commoners.

Once they were stood just outside of the doors into the throne room, they came to a stop. Miss Michaels had tears in her eyes.

“You’re crying?” Sharon sounded perplexed, but her expression was kind. She pulled her maid into a hug. “Why are you crying?”

“It’s - It’s a real life mir-miracle, seeing you walk so far without losing your str-strength.” She managed, her voice wobbling. “Standing upright… not coughing at all…”

Being back where it all began, Alaska wondered about who had been hit the hardest by the illness. Miss Michaels was doing everything she could to swallow back her tears, overcome by the sight of Sharon healthy and flushed with life. She had cared for the princess ever since the onset of her sickness; she had most likely watched her rapid deterioration with a heavy heart, and sent her away in a carriage feeling sure she would never see her alive again. Hell, beyond that, she had raised Sharon since she’d been born, and what a horrible way she’d been led to believe it would end.

“I’m not ready to do this.” Sharon faltered. “I don’t- I don’t know if I can go in there.”

Alaska squeezed her hand. “There’s nothing you can’t do.”

“You’re right. Especially when I have you by my side.”

tags - purecamp, in sickness and in health, shalaska, sharon needles, alaska thunderfuck, yvie oddly, brooke lynn hytes, vanessa vanjie mateo, scarlet envy, scyvie, branjie, chad michaels

#rpdr fanfiction #purecamp #in sickness and in health #shalaska #sharon needles #alaska thunderfuck #yvie oddly #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #scarlet envy #scyvie #branjie #chad michaels #lesbian au #royalty au #submission

[wickedwritingswickedgame]

The Boiling Point

(drabble)

Trigger warning: mentions of abuse below

If one were looking for Charles Xavier they would find him in his room, combing over the things in his dresser. Tempers were high at the Xavier school tonight and patience especially thin. Charles himself gave in more than once before he’d finally excused himself.

A headache was building behind his eyes and he stopped what he was doing to massage his temples. Every night seemed to dusk the bubbling tension between himself and his family up a few more notches. It was all rather unnecessary, laughable even if he’d been anyone other than himself. Alas, Charles Xavier he was and with him came a staggering mountain of baggage. One open-faced encounter sent most running for the bloody hills—or at least a safe distance away. His family however had come right back and with them brought a series of solutions that essentially hog-tied him for the better part of a decade. He couldn’t be fixed, they decided and so stepped around the broken pieces, ensuring they wouldn’t cut anyone else.

Only one man saw him in a different light and it was that man Charles thought of now, particularly a conversation with him not too long ago. He’d come to Erik that day with a bruised arm and a broken heart, seeking comfort after having forcefully been injected with the very treatment he’d been trying to ween himself off (he didn’t need to suppress his powers Professor X wasn’t the monster everyone believes him to be...)

That day Erik suggested they walk away, start a life together apart from this place and the people in it. He hadn’t been able to make a decision at the time but with every day passed and each new conflict Charles found himself leaning further and further towards a breaking point.

A soft knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts: Charles stilled but he didn’t look up. There was only one person he wanted to see in the doorway and that man harbored such affection for him even Charles’ stunted powers felt him coming. Only radio silence reverberated from the door now. Silence and the ever-present tension.

“Dad?” Came the careful voice of Charles’ adult son. Charles swallowed a sigh; his eyes opened but otherwise didn’t move.

“What do you what?” He murmured.

“I want to talk to you,” James answered. “You got a sec?”

He sounded tired, Charles notes. Tired and worried. Charles heard the door close, followed by encroaching footsteps. Surprise surprise, James expected a free schedule. Invisible fingers squeezed Charles’ heart; finally he turned around.

“Actually I’m b-busy right now,” Charles said and he cringed internally over how easily the stammer came out. It wasn’t so quick to escape around Erik.

“Oh yeah?” James questioned but that was all he said. For fleeting futile second Charles thought he might get away with continued solitude...until he felt the delicate brush of his son’s mind against his own. Charles stiffened.

“S-stop that,” he said, finally turning around. James Xavier stood in the doorway, arms folded across his chest, brow pinched over observing yellow eyes. He held up his hands when Charles snapped at him, withdrawing from his mind.

“Sorry,” Charles said, sighed really. Guilt prickled his heart: there was a time he’d have reacted very similarly to that sort of response to his powers. However, Charles could no longer use his powers easily and being probed by a functioning telepath felt...somewhat unfair. Unfair and invasive, he thought, watching the younger man carefully.

The urge to look away crept up on him--look away as he often did when uncomfortable—but he managed to ignore it. He kept his thoughts sparse however as James possessed a decent telepathic range: even without probing he might be able to detect Charles’ state of mind. That would do no one any good.

If James Xavier was at all tuned into his father he didn’t say. He shrugged, a more casual gesture but his eyes never left Charles’ face.

“It’s all good,” James told him. He stepped away from the door, fully entering the room. Charles couldn’t help himself: he stiffened again. No sooner did he than the younger man hesitated. Of course.

“Dad?” James asked. “Are we good or not?”

Charles hesitated. He saw the wariness slip back into his son’s face, watched his body language shift into an even less threatening position. Damn it all, they still saw him as the fragile sapling, the cracked and mushy eggshell, the trembling leaf on rocky winds and every other exaggerated metaphor in the book. It broke his heart a little bit. It also made him mad.

Had they not noticed any change for the better? Did a head held higher, a smile more frequent and almost entirely uninterrupted sentences mean nothing at all? No, Charles thought and this time he didn’t care about any and all possible eavesdropping. His family didn’t want him to change. To them he was damaged, helpless and unstable and above all incapable of thinking for himself.

Evidently James noticed the prolonged silence because he called out again, this time gentler and definitely a touch worried. Again Charles fought the temptation to duck his head and again he succeeded. Instead he chewed his lip before his features worked their way into a frown.

“What d-do you want, James?”

James closed the door. He ran a hand through his sandy brown hair.

“I’m worried about you,” he said. “And I know, I know I’m always worried about you but this is different I swear.”

Charles stopped chewing his lip, the soft and sore flesh still between his teeth. His stomach churned as he waited for an explaination.

“I know you’re thinking about leaving—and before you say anything, I didn’t have to read your mind. You uh, you project sometimes when you concentrate.”

Just like that, Charles’ anger took a back seat. He paled and his trembling heart sank into his stomach. Don’t, he told himself but it was hard, it was hard not to jump the first erratic thought-train pulling out of the station. He projected? How far? Shite, did everyone in this house already know he wanted to—

“Whoa whoa, hey—“ James winced, pinching one side of his head. “That’s, yeah that’s what I’m talkin’ about. It’s only loud enough for me to hear.”

Charles sincerely hoped James meant that because of his mutation, not because he monitored Charles like a hawk. James was a traveler by nature; before Erik’s return the boy spent half his time exploring the stars. Perhaps the one and only thing Charles missed about those days. That and his own naïveté.

“Alright,” said Charles finally. “So you know I-I want to leave...are you going to stop me?”

His fingers flexed and unfurled at his side, resisting the temptation to tug the hem of his shirt. Nervous habits did no good here. If he wanted even a small place to stand he needed to be stronger, or at least present himself that way. Think of Erik. Be like Erik. Erik wouldn’t be afraid of his own son...

James didn’t answer right away, not with words. A series of expressions washed over his face, everything from muddled to conflicted.

“Are you going to make me?” He asked quietly.

Charles’ stomach churned. It didn’t seem like he had a choice. That’s not all it sounds like...

“Don’t,” he said sharply. “D-don’t phrase it like that, don’t pin this on me, I won’t...”

Charles shook his head. Why, he thought. Why must it be this way?

“Dad?”

“What?” James’ yellow eyes widened and the lines in his face, however few there were, tightened. Damn it. Charles drew in a slow breath, then let it out again.

“I’m—” he tried again but cut himself off. Don’t apologize, Erik told him. He wasn’t to blame anymore.

“When you...s-say things like that it seems like you think this is all m-my fault,” Charles explained. His fingers twitched again, looking for an anchor against the building storm. He curled his hands into fists.

James said nothing. Charles took it as a sign to continue. (He hoped it was, otherwise his son was multitasking telepathically...)

“I-I’ve lived most of my life that way,” Charles said. “That...that’s a f-form of abuse, James...”

Erik might hold little love for the extended Xavier family but Charles was an Xavier too...didn’t he owe them a chance to understand? Understand, really? Isn’t it a little late for that?

The lines in his son’s face twisted and in place of wariness now he looked hurt. Genuinely hurt, as though he’d been dealt a critical blow to his character. Charles supposed he essentially had.

“Are you seriously accusing me of abuse? Me? I’m the one who pulled you out of there,” James said darkly and Charles realized it wasn’t hurt he was hearing but betrayal.

“Nobody here gets what you’ve been through better than me,” James went on. “I read your mind, remember? I’ve seen everything that’s happened to you.”

Yellow eyes met Charles’ blue ones. As if Charles somehow needed reminding of their first encounter. Fuck, why must everything be a fight? (Why indeed: wasn’t this what Erik tried to tell him before?) Despite his best efforts Charles wasn’t able to hold back his anxiety any longer: he uncurled one hand and brought it up, biting hard on his index finger. I hate myself. I hate this.

James evidently also needed a moment: he loed away, rubbing his neck. A muscle pulsed beside his jaw—once, twice—and vanished in a heavy sigh.

“I didn’t come here to upset you,” he said, turning back to Charles. Charles chewed on his knuckle. He believed that much, that James meant no harm by what he said. The boy was many things but a willing antagonist did not fit his character. What is it they say? The road to heartache is paved with good intentions? Something like that...

This time it seemed the younger telepath waited for Charles to speak: he stuffed his hands in his pockets, glancing now and then towards the door. Or was it away that he looked, waiting for Charles to collect himself? The elder and stunted telepath flushed. He took his hand out of his mouth.

“I...I understand your concerns,” he murmured. “I do, honestly...b-but they’re stuck in the past. Erik hasn’t hurt me once s-since his return and he isn’t g-going to in the future. You’re a telepath, surely you can see that.”

He was fidgeting again, but at least he’d finally said it. If James were going to make a point of bringing up his powers he ought to be reminded of their full scope. Indeed, James’ mouth twinged and twitched like he wanted to say something but knew there might be consequences. Instead he crossed his arms. “That’s not the point...”

“Then what is the p-point?” Charles asked. He tugged at the hem of his pullover. If only he could talk to James as easily as he did with Erik...but that was part of the problem, wasn’t it.

“James?” Charles ventured when the other man didn’t answer. He still looked like he wanted to but—

“We’re your family,” James blurted. He removed one hand from his pocket, thumping his chest. “Me, mom and Em—hell you have grandkids now, dad. Why...why isn’t that enough?”

“I...” Charles started but he trailed off. His heart throbbed and squirmed as guilt and loyalty and obligation tried to grab for it. Think of Erik, he told himself again. He’d do anything for Erik. He loved Erik. He wanted to be with Erik...no matter the cost.

“I’m not happy here,” Charles confessed. “Nobody trusts me, nobody listens to me a-and Hank is cruel to me, James, he’s been c-cruel for years—”

“You never told me that—”

“I tried!” Charles cried, gesturing to James with his free hand. “You—all of you, you don’t listen, you just...it s-seems like you think I’m the p-problem. I’m not,” he said, searching his son’s face. Once again, James was slow to answer. When he did, his words were shaky on his tongue.

“I never thought of you as a problem. I was relieved when I found out you weren’t the monster everyone made you out to be.”

Charles gave him a look—a pained, disappointed look. “You don’t b-believe I can be fixed. That’s the same thing.”

They parted ways shortly after that. James mentioned something about having to share their conversation with Raven to which Charles curtly wished him well. Once alone he limped over to the bed, collapsing with his hands clasped over his mouth.

That was it then: if his son—his only bloody telepathic child—couldn’t understand him, kept twisting his words and his heart into suffocating knots—what hope was there anyone else would listen? Fuck, he hoped Raven wouldn’t confront Hank. No no please don’t tell Hank what I said—

Charles whimpered: his belly jumped and his chest convulsed. He should be proud of himself, he knew that and he knew Erik would tell him the same. He’d finally stood up for himself, something he hadn’t done in...shite, he couldn’t remember. Sadly (sickeningly) it didn’t seem to matter right now: if James talked to Raven and Raven told Hank then word would spread and they’d all gang up on him and it hurt so fucking much how badly that frightened him. They were supposed to be different. He thought they were. You stupid old fool. You never learn.

Charles dropped his arms: he doubled over, catching his head in his hands.

“I want to leave,” he croaked. He’d never said it aloud before. “I want to leave, I want t-to leave this place...”

#xmwg #xmen wicked game #james xavier #charles xavier #cherik #v: second chances #ship: cherik #wgcharles #jamesxavierprime #tw: abuse #wickedwritings

[lordeasriel]

lord asriel’s quick analysis

Or why redemption isn’t always necessary.

Given that some people asked me to finish it and that I want to finish it, here’s my stroke over Lord Asriel’s arc. This is based on a post someone made it on reddit about the lack of redeeming traits on his part and this is my personal take on Asriel, so ok, here we go:

Let me get this out of the way: the thing about Lord Asriel is that he is not a redeemable character; that is not his purpose nor his story. He never seeks redemption, nor he sees his actions as a product of villainy or evil; in fact, Asriel believes he is quite righteous and he is willing to do whatever the fuck it takes to achieve his goals.

We never get a direct understanding of his motives: he does say he fights for freedom, he states his disgust with the Magisterium and the Kingdom of Heaven, and those who surround him believe in his cause and say, constantly, that his side is the right side, and that he fights for freedom and against the tyranny of the Church.

What is contantly overlooked is the fact Lord Asriel doesn’t require a redemption, this isn’t some sort of requirement a character needs every time they screw up. This, well, aversion to Asriel and the need to have him either punished or redeemed is solely based on the fact he killed Roger in cold blood, sort of, to wage his war for freedom. Was that fucked up? Absolutely! Does this means he requires redemption over that? No, and Philip Pullman himself explains why when Mary Malone says:

“I stopped believing there was a power of good and a power of evil that were outside us. And I came to believe that good and evil are names for what people do, not for what they are.” (The Amber Spyglass)

This has a lot to do with the recurring themes of the books, about morals, ethics and the poor use of free will by some, and it personifies almost every character in the books, from Lyra to Iorek. Everyone has committed some sort of bad deed at some point, but that does not label them as evil, and the same rules apply to Asriel. This is a man who’s crossed the very limits of the multiverse to achieve his goals, by being good in looking after the destruction of the Kingdom, and by being bad while killing Roger (plus being a bad father, a bad uncle, a bad lover, but let us remain philosophical for now).

Asriel is relentless, ruthless and sometimes, even cruel, to Lyra, to Marisa, to anyone really. At Jordan, he walks in, puts the fear of God (unironically lol) into almost everyone, including Lyra and the Master, he takes control of the enviroment and sets on to do what he went to Jordan for: to get money for his plot, so he can tear the sky apart and defy the Kingdom of Heaven. Lyra fears him (righteously) and admires his fierceness, she respects strength and brute force, it is the reason why she is so drawn to violent figures or rude characters, being herself quite rude and arrogant because she mirrors her uncle/dad.

He is considered to be a passionate man by almost everyone, and he causes a great impression in everyone he meets, including the reader. He was written as a likable character at first, made from scratch to fit in the role of the aloof, sometimes austere but caring uncle, or the traveler who serves as the inspiration for the hero (Bilbo Baggins, for quite the literal example, or Professor Kirke in Narnia). Sir Philip describes him, in Northern Lights:

“Then Lord Asriel stood up and turned away from the fire. She saw him fully, and marveled at the contrast he made with the plump Butler, the stooped and languid Scholars. Lord Asriel was a tall man with powerful shoulders, a fierce dark face, and eyes that seemed to flash and glitter with savage laughter. It was a face to be dominated by, or to fight: never a face to patronize or pity. All his movements were large and perfectly balanced, like those of a wild animal, and when he appeared in a room like this, he seemed a wild animal held in a cage too small for it. At the moment his expression was distant and preoccupied.”  (page 13, Knopf edition).

He is, at first, compared to other men in Lyra’s life (the scholars, mostly) only to be extravangantly praised for being nothing like those men. Stelmaria, quiet and reserved, beautiful and pacifying, is the ultimate contrast for Asriel; together, they are one, and he is an aristocrat with wild temper, and she is a snow leopard, a predator, but beautiful and wise. These are the representation of Satan, as in Paradise Lost: forsaken and forgotten by history for fighting the Authority, Asriel and Stelmaria are the embodiment of disobedience and they are bound to rebel again because that is their nature. All that’s left to them is a reason and the Magisterium, oh boy, they’ve given them plenty.

Now, think about a man who’s had everything, then this rising power that was the Magisterium, comes and takes everything from him, from his money to his daughter over something, not trivial, but certainly something that didn’t require such harsh method of punishment; considering a lot of his wealth was confiscated and assuming he had to pay a lot of fees and taxes because of the Court Trial, he was very much not the man he was before Mrs. Coulter’s affair with him. He obeys the rules and stays away from Lyra, only to discover her mother is with the Church and that they intend to harm Lyra, even after he played nice. His friends in Oakley Street are trying to protect Lyra, but against the Magisterium, after witnessing how powerful they are, how far gone they are willing to go, things aren’t looking very bright for Asriel. He even says, in Northern Lights:

“They’re stronger than anyone, Asriel! You don’t know-”

“I don’t know? I? No one in the world knows better than I how strong the Church is! But it isn’t strong enough for this. The Dust will change everything, anyway. There’s no stopping it now.” (page 394, Knopf edition).

The Asriel we meet in La Belle Sauvage is younger and a man who’s just been massacred by the Church, as he reminds us of in Northern Lights; he is wounded after all that has happened, almost in a tender way, as if he had been softened by it. But he still is himself; proud, arrogant and scholarly, he risks Lyra’s safety and his own to indulge himself and be with her for a while, to spite the Magisterium and its distasteful influence. Under the moonlight, he loves her so immensely, in such a raw and fiery way, that for a moment Malcolm even thinks Asriel might leave with her, and so did I.

Everything Asriel does, everything that leads to his war in the name of the Republic of Heaven, has to do with Lyra’s birth and how he lost everything because of the injustice the Magisterium imposed on the world; how he had an affair with a woman he loved and how she could easily have gotten a divorce to prevent all of that; how they took his fortune and prestige because he was defiant. The murders, the oppression, his career as a scholar, his life as a whole, and then after the affair, his daughter’s, all was threatened by the Magisterium. It’s hard to say when he decided to fuck up the sky, but I like to think by the time he left Lyra at Jordan, he was already working on his revenge, because when he lost everything, that was his turning point. He doesn’t do any of this because he is a caring, loving person; he does out of hatred and indignation, two powerful tools that fuel his existence for the next twelve years, perhaps even before then, in small dosages. 

There’s constant evidence of his hatred for the Church and their dogmas, especially on chapter 21 in Northern Lights, when he monologues to Lyra about Dust and how the Church allowed such things as Bolvangar to happen, implying that as many others, including scholars, he knew about what was happening. There could be a number of reasons as to why he didn’t interfer, and the most obvious one is that he was in prison, so there wasn’t much he could in his position. A second, deeper reason, is Mrs. Coulter’s involvement with Bolvangar, and by involvement I mean leadership, basically. He was fully aware she was the one responsible for Bolvangar, even enlightening us:

“That’s why they had to hide away in the far North, in darkness and obscurity. And why the Church was glad to have someone like your mother in charge, Who could doubt someone so charming, so well-connected, so sweet and reasonable?” (page 374/375, Knopf edition).

He speaks of her work with contempt and distaste, but also in a tone as someone who once fell for her masquerade before fully understanding who she was and her ultimate goal. Being his former lover, he sees the fact she works with the very Church who ruined him because of her, as disgusting despite their weird relationship dynamic, (which I could write a whole essay on but I’m not, because I already did it in college and that essay took me to a very dark place lol) and he despises her relation to the Church far more than he despises the nature of her work. And, as we see in the Amber Spyglass, despite inviting her to come with him, he is not eager to be in her company because he simply doesn’t trust himself when it comes to her and neither does anyone who knows both of them.

But the main reason he didn’t interfere, it’s because Bolvangar’s action, however crude and in favour of his enemies, was something he could take advantage of and their cruelty simply didn’t concern his own work, even if it was a discovery of his own that allowed such a thing. While they were doing something awful, they were too busy to notice his domination over his own house arrest or his plans in general, giving him the time and space he needed to finish his work.

Cruel and straightforward, Asriel is too practical and indecent to say he cared about the children: he hated what they were doing because the Church was tied to it; La Belle Sauvage!Asriel might have interfered and cared about it (he saved gyptian children from a flood, restored Malcolm’s boat, was gentle and wise in a rough way), but Northern Lights!Asriel was simply far too blindsided by his wrath against the Authority and the Church to give a damn. The only moment we see him hesitate is when he sees Lyra in the North, and for a moment he is taken by the shock of thinking he might have to sacrifice Lyra to kill God and destroy the Church, who was trying to, you know, kill Lyra. An ironic and cruel position to put him in, and he would’ve killed her, make no mistake; he keeps away from her because he simply knows he would’ve sacrificed her, or anyone else, including himself, to destroy God and the Magisterium.

Understanding this wild, carefree and inconsequential man is a crude task. The thing is, redemption is an overused trope and not everyone that does something bad needs it (or wants it for the matter), Asriel being the person who least requires it, because:

He is not a villain. I have seen this a lot and it honestly confuses me. Asriel, if anything, plays the part of the antihero, and even then he does so very loosely. We are constantly reassured by him and by basically every third party in the book (Ruta Skadi and her infatuation, John Parry and his wise comprehension, Baruch and Balthamos and their first-hand experience of the Kingdom’s brutality, amongst others) that Asriel is the “hero” of the war, that he is righteous and the one with the right views. He is not your conventional saviour, in fact, he is human and flawed, self-centered and ambitious, but charismatic and knowledgeable; that blur our senses and the lines and we’re stuck thinking he is either a hero or a villain when Asriel is, in fact, neither.

His ultimate goal is clear, albeit readable only between the lines sometimes. He is a liar, arrogant and wrathful, but once we get to the Subtle Knife, his goal is more clear, at least from Thorold and John Parry’s points of view (Ruta Skadi too, but she is far too unreliable for being too infatuated with Asriel): he wants to kill God and take down the Kingdom of Heaven. He says it’s for freedom and blah-blah-blah, and although I believe he seeks that outcome in the end, the reason he is doing this is much more self-serving and closer to revenge rather than doing what is right. He is a spiteful man, whom has been robbed of his wealth and his life by a religious institution who serves God and does anything in the name of God. Asriel wants to take them down because it satiates his need for vengeance, alongside his scholarly nature, by being a pioneer and an explorer of multiple worlds. It’s an ego booster, something to pat yourself on the back for.

He is unapologetic. He never apologises, or seems regretful over his actions. He isn’t apathetic, but he clearly does not resent his own choices. Killing Roger was a tough decision, but one he was intent on making because it was what he needed to do to achieve his purpose (hence his hesitation towards Lyra; he would’ve killed her if Roger wasn’t there). That was by far the most beautiful and sensible death ever written by Pullman: he doesn’t extend it or makes it purposefully dramatic and that’s because Roger’s death was merely a switch for everything else: Lyra and Asriel’s journey. Sir Philip makes us believe that Lyra’s ultimate goal is to stop her warmongering father, then he dismantles Asriel’s portrayal as the endgame bad guy for things of higher nature and Lyra simply stop blaming him, instead blaming herself, and everything she does from them on, is to spite Asriel by always staying away from him and his Republic.

These three aspects of Lord Asriel’s character core are relevant because they exempt him of a redemption arc. He doesn’t need to be redeemed, he asks for no forgiveness and he knew, from the start, where things were going. Perhaps not on Lyra’s account, but the overall outcome of his war. He never backs down, nor hesitates and Ogunwe claims:

“We’re not going to invade the Kingdom,” he said, “but if the Kingdom invades us, they had better be ready for war, because we are prepared.” (page 210, The Amber Spyglass, Knopf edition).

Despite the Republic’s claims of being builders, not conquerors, Asriel was the commander of a massive force and he was, fully aware, that the Kingdom would not leave them be to mind their business. They wanted that war, he wanted that war, and everything he did was because of it. That is why he only is granted peace, in a sense, in death as they plunge down into the abyss; it was a price worth paying for wrecking Heaven. He never truly dies, but instead is forged into oblivion.

A villain can be redeemed, and so can a purposeless character, but Asriel is neither of these things. He has a clear purpose, and he has done good and bad things in his life, he never apologises for what he’s done and he doesn’t intend to. He mimics great rebels of epic stories, and he embodies all that is truthful and essential to human nature: knowledge, passion, rebellious mind, the apex of free will and the wrath against those who do us wrong. He is neither a saint, nor sinner: he is both, as are every person in those books, and he embraces fully his nature. Once again, as Mary said: he’s done bad things, but he isn’t evil himself. No one truly is.

And this is it, sorry for the essay, I have thing for academic men in linen shirts who want to tear Heaven apart lol  @laciefuyu this is for you hahah 

#his dark materials #lord asriel #hdm #long post #hdm meta #this is like me scratching the surface of my previous thesis lmao #but this will have to do #do i have a lot to say on asriel? yes #i love him so much omfg #sometimes i need to remind myself he isnt real and that hurts #pls authority give me a raging academic as a bf/gf #oh its ok im the raging academic i know #lord asriel: a me: you can fight my freedom anyday hun #hdm spoilers #meta by effie

[ibelieveinahappilyeverafter]

Holiday Truce - come into my parlor (said the tempter to the sinner)

Happy Holiday Truce @therealsirsticker! My apologies for the lateness in your gift, but I hope you enjoy it anyways! Your requested “goofing about Ghost Writer, Amorpho” and, somehow, that turned into this insanity! I hope you still enjoy it, though, and that I did the characters justice (I’m used to writing my own version of Ghostwriter, but for this one I tried to be a bit more generic). 

Enjoy and happy holidays and new year! 

                                                            ⁂

Summary: Amorpho is not one prone to rash actions, but with the knowledge that the newer ghosts have no idea of who he is, well, there’s nothing to do but break into the Observatory itself. Of course, it never hurts to have a little extra help, and Amorpho knows that the Ghostwriter would just love to get a certain keyboard of his back. Overall, Amorpho thinks it’s his most brilliant plan, yet. After all, the hardest part would be convincing Ghostwriter himself.

Fandom: Danny Phantom  

Characters: Amorpho, Ghost Writer  

Rating: Teen Audiences

Word Count: 3,394

               Check out my writing commission information here!                     Pledge to my Patreon to get exclusive content!

                                                         ⁂

               come into my parlor (said the tempter to the sinner)

                                                         ⁂

A spider web of cracks spiraled out from under the sleek, black cane that was now embedded a couple of inches into the boulder it had taken its wrath out on, a silence accompanying it that had the beginnings of fear and wariness lurking around the edges. The fear was the only thing that kept Amorpho from screaming, instead hissing out a soft, quiet, “Excuse me?” 

“Yo, hey, dude, there’s no reason to get so pissed off by a simple question!” Staring down at the ghost in front of him, a new young thing with a bark louder than any bite he could possibly have, Amorpho narrowed his eyes behind his glasses. While he had never been a fan of his ‘true’ form, it was useful enough in intimidating the casual ghost. “I didn’t even do nothin’! I just asked who you were!”

“That, dear boy, is exactly the problem.” The crux of the matter, as it were, was that a ghost stood in front of Amorpho, looking at him with wary eyes that held no recognition. 

The ghost stumbled a few steps back on the abandoned rock they had come to land on, the ghost having obviously been lost and Amorpho feeling in just enough of a good mood to ‘help.’ His good mood had quickly vanished when he found out that he was unknown, but… maybe that was alright. This ghost was standing, after all - standing, not floating. He had stumbled backwards. Perhaps he just hadn’t yet learned who was who. 

Amorpho took a breath, pulling his cane out of the rock and giving it a little twirl, letting his voice relax into something more chipper. He would have considered smiling if he had a mouth. “My apologies for my outburst. It didn’t even occur to me that you might be new to these parts! Tell me, dear boy, how long have you been a resident of our fair Ghost Zone?” 

Amorpho made sure to gesture grandly to the area around them, an empty, desolate part that was between lairs and had nothing but crushed rocks for miles in any direction. No wonder the new ghost had seemed on edge being lost in a place like the Ghost Zone. 

“Uh- Yeah. Right. No problem, man. Uh, I’m not really new, I guess?” The younger was sneaking looks at him as he kept looking around as if expecting help to arrive at the last second. Shame for him that things never quite turned out like that for ghosts. “I’ve been here about five or six years?” 

The drop in his mood returned between one second and the next, Amorpho gripping his cane tightly enough that the faintest sound of creaking metal could be heard. The new ghost, wisely, stayed quiet as Amorpho worked on centering himself long enough to ignore the idea to shift into something very large with countless teeth. 

“Six years and yet you don’t know who I am?” Impossible. Amorpho may not have been the most powerful ghost there was, but he was known. “I simply can’t understand how that is, dear boy, when I am known by everyone here. My name is known by near every ghost that calls this place home, I am known- And not simply for those silly tricks you lot like to play on those worthless humans in Amity Park.” 

Just saying the name of the place left a bad taste in his mouth considering his run-in with Amity Park’s little ghostly protector. Shrugging the unease off, Amorpho focused back in on the ghost who looked scared. Good. 

“I am known from one end of this damned place to the other for my abilities.” Amorpho loved pranks and he had never been terrifying, but he knew the price of secrets - and how much they cost to others. There were perks to once being a spy in life, after all. “I am the ghost who knows every secret you neanderthals try to hide. I am the one who knows everything you did hide.”

It hadn’t even simply been that, either, but his ability to slip in and out of everywhere. “I am the only ghost who could slip in and out of Walker’s jail with ease! Never seen, never caught, never arrested, never noticed. Does all of this mean nothing to you? I am Amorpho!” 

The new ghost, once scared and starting to draw in and cower, blinked as tension seemed to roll off him, straightening back out with a hesitant, “Who?” Oh, he was going to kill this little brat. “I mean… Yeah, okay, knowing stuff is kind of cool, I guess, but the jail thing isn’t that big of a deal?” 

“What?!” Not that big of a deal? Not that big of a deal? Amorpho had been the only ghost who could slip messages and other ghosts in and out of jail for years! Walker still wanted to behead him!

“I mean-! C’mon, man, like, look at Phantom. The kid breaks into Walker’s jail and escapes with half the prisoners all the time. Like, I’m pretty sure it’s just a game for him at this point, right? So, like, I guess you’re cool and all, but…” The ghost shrugged, nothing about him looking frightened or wary or even startled in any way whatsoever. “It’s not that big a deal these days, I guess.” 

“Not that big-” Amorpho cut himself off with a growl, physically forcing himself to not break his cane - whether by squeezing it too hard or bashing it over the idiot’s head. “I could break into anywhere I wanted and get out without ever even being seen!” 

“Yeah, so can all of us. Invisibility, dude.” The ghost laughed, as if he had just told a hilarious joke, and Amorpho felt the urge to use his cane even more than before. It wasn’t like it would kill the brat. “And ‘break into?’ The only places worth breaking into are Walker’s jail, which, yeah, we just went over that one, and The Observatory, and no one goes there unless they have a death wish.” 

Amorpho watched as the paranoid little thing looked around as if expecting an Observant to pop up and cart him away there and then. The young ones always were idiots, Amorpho supposed. “Look, dude, maybe you were a big deal before, but I don’t know you, okay? I just need to know how to get to one of those portal things after getting turned around.” 

“A big deal once,” Amorpho repeated bitterly, the young ghost looking not one bit apologetic, instead shrugging as if it all didn’t matter one bit. Amorpho felt his temper rise. 

“Look, man, if you’re not gonna help me then I’m not gonna stick around and argue with you about this, so I’ll just-” The last word was swallowed up by the sound of cracking bones, Amorpho watching green skin lighten in a way that was a near replica of blood draining away from the face in fear. Good. 

“Not known, am I? Then maybe I should make my name one to be remembered.” It wasn’t a trick Amorpho used often as it was more annoying than it was worth, but he focused on shifting his natural body unnaturally, lengthening his arms and fingers until they were gross and disjointed and near dragging against the rock they were still on, back arching and twisting with the accompanying, fake, sound of cracking and shifting bones. 

He pushed his form to be bigger and larger, towering over the suddenly terrified ghost before adding the clincher; a mouth filled with razor sharp ‘blood-stained’ teeth that he then gave his best roar through. 

Amorpho kept the form up until the brat was long gone, screaming about mercy and Satan and oh, there was an idea. Legs with hooves would be an excellent addition if he really need to prove a point. 

As soon as Amorpho was certain he was alone, he dropped the form and changed back, shuddering at the feeling of pins and needles that took over his body. His shapeshifting was elegant, of course, but there was only so much to be done when stretching and attempting to change his real body. 

“‘A big deal once,’” Amorpho muttered to himself, picking back up the cane he had dropped and giving it a twirl. “What rudeness.” As if hearing about Phantom again wasn’t bad enough, Amorpho had to hear about how the newer ghosts didn’t know him at all. 

Oh, Amorpho had long since solved his issues with Phantom himself, but of course it was that boy who had caused all the latest upheaval in Amorpho’s afterlife. Even in the Ghost Zone Phantom had managed to make Amorpho’s name suffer a decline in fame and recognition. 

The solution was a simple one, at least. Amorpho would need to do something big. He would prove to the Ghost Zone, and that riffraff, that his name carried weight in their world; one way or another. 

Pranks were one thing, of course, but Amorpho would need to do something that left the others speechless. It would need to be incredible. It would… 

Amorpho looked to the direction the young ghost had run off too, feeling the smile he would have in any other body. “The Observatory, hm?” 

A challenge seemed exactly what he needed, but for one this big, well. A little extra help couldn’t harm matters. 

                                                         ⁂

Fingers stumbling and tripping over aged typewriter keys, Ghostwriter startled and jerked his head up to stare at the cat that had meowed loud enough to knock him out of his thoughts. Ghostwriter stared at the cat evenly, the fluffy black creature who looked alive and not at all ghostly giving another meow and puffing itself up as if to gain even more attention, as if it hadn’t just appeared on Ghostwriter’s desk in his lair in the Ghost Zone. 

After a few moments letting himself be utterly confused and lost, Ghostwriter finally rallied with a valiant, “One moment, please.” Because while a living cat appearing in front of him was interesting, it wouldn’t do to leave off on an unfinished sentence. 

Once Ghostwriter was certain he would know just where to pick his story back up once he came back to it, he returned his attention to the cat, flicking a scrunched up ball of paper towards the creature and frowning when the paper was immediately swatted back towards him. The cat wasn’t an illusion, then. He was halfway through wondering if the cat was an attempt to screw with him curtsey of his brother when he noticed the cat had red eyes; ghostly red eyes.

The realization must have shown on his face because the cat grinned, speaking up in an annoying voice that could break sanity instead of glass. “My dear Andrew. It has been quite a long time since we’ve seen each other, hasn’t it?”

“If you ask me it hasn’t been long enough,” Ghostwriter scowled as he directed his fiercest glare at the cat. “What do you want, Peyton?” 

“Amorpho, if you would,” the ‘cat’ frowned, as if he hadn’t called Ghostwriter by his human name first. “As for what I want, well… Is it so hard to believe that I merely came to pay a visit to an old friend?” 

“Incredibly so,” Ghostwriter snorted, standing up with enough force to almost knock his chair over before he was rounding the table towards the cat. “So, I’ll ask again. What do you want?” 

Amorpho pouted as much as a cat could pout, rising to all fours and padding closer before giving a sweet purr that almost knocked Ghostwriter off guard enough to want to indulge and scratch behind the cute thing’s ears. He then remembered this was one of the banes of his existence and he felt far less guilt about grabbing one of his heavier resource books and attempting to swat the damn thing. 

“Come now, Ghostwriter, there’s no need to be so rude,” Amorpho chided, nimbly dodging the attack before leaping up to rest around Ghostwriter’s shoulders, claws digging in just enough to let him know he wouldn’t be swatted off so easily. “I had a proposition of sorts for you.” At the word ‘proposition’ Ghostwriter had a furry tail flicking by and brushing the tip of his nose, deepening his scowl. 

“Oh, and I suppose I should listen then? Forget it, Amorpho.” Grabbing a few of his books, as well as his current notebook, Ghostwriter stormed out of his office and towards another part of his lair. Lord knew he wasn’t going to be getting any work done with Amorpho skulking around and trying to convince him of something no doubt dangerous. “The last proposition of yours ended up with me almost having my core torn out.” 

Amorpho scoffed, squirming around to no doubt hasten his approaching death by pissing Ghostwriter off further. “Dear Ghostwriter, it was quite clear that you were in no true danger during that last adventure of ours. If anything, I was the one who suffered the most by the end.” 

Ghostwriter muttered swears to himself, weighing the pros and cons of shoving a couple of bookcases onto the annoyance latched onto his shoulders. While on the one hand it could harm his books, on the other he might actually manage to kill the little bastard. Decisions, decisions… 

“Come on, Ghostwriter, at least hear me out,” Amorpho purred, voice sugary sweet. Ghostwriter muttered another swear before looking to Amorpho as best he could. 

“You have three minutes starting two minutes ago. Use your seconds wisely you overgrown fur rug.” Ugh, that last insult had sounded far too much like Skulker’s brand of revenge. Then again, there was something to be said for the effectiveness of skinning someone you hated. 

Amorpho, drama queen that he was, waited until his time was almost up before stretching out his front paws and saying, quite calmly, “I would like your help in getting into the Observatory.” 

The sentence was a simple one, only ten words with a central idea, but it was still enough to have Ghostwriter utterly speechless as he stared at Amorpho because there was no way, dead or alive, that anyone could be that stupid. When the following sentence of Amorpho saying it was a joke never came, Ghostwriter felt his eyes widen further, finally managing a weak, “You can’t be serious?”

“Oh, quite serious,” Amorpho chirped, slipping off Ghostwriter’s shoulders and changing back into his original form, as calm as if he was telling Ghostwriter nothing more or less than the latest prank he had managed to pull off. “It’d make quite the story, don’t you think? Two ghosts who no one takes seriously managing to get in and out of the Observatory right under the Observants’ eyes, the lot of them never any wiser.”

“Never any- They see all of time,” Ghostwriter hissed, whipping around and half-certain that he would see an Observant or one of their guards appear behind them. Ghosts had certainly been taken in for less than what could amount to treason in their world. “Have you finally lost all sense you had left?!”

“Perhaps,” Amorpho sighed, using his powers to shift himself into a ghost that Ghostwriter didn’t recognize before he was leaning against one of the bookcases casually. A newer ghost, perhaps? Ghostwriter wasn’t sure, but the expression on Amorpho’s face was nothing but bitter. “Or perhaps I’m starting to see the bigger picture.” 

Ghostwriter shook his head, nervously piling more books into his arms from the shelves he passed, hardly glancing at the covers to see if he really needed them. He was fully aware he was grabbing books just to have a distraction, shaking his head once more as he finally responded, “No. I’ll put you in touch with Randy, if you want, as this brand of crazy is perfect for him, but I will not-”

“Not even for your keyboard?” Amorpho’s voice curled through the air like silk strings winding around him, Ghostwriter fully aware of the web he was about to walk into. Yet… “I regret to say I wasn’t around for the event itself, but I heard all about that dreadful business with that Christmas dealing with Phantom. Your Reality Keyboard was shattered, wasn’t it?” 

The web was spun well, and Ghostwriter couldn’t help but to brush his fingers against it, turning around to stare at Amorpho’s eyes, feeling the familiar pulse of annoyance and lingering rage at seeing Phantom’s grinning face. Finally, he muttered a soft, “Yes, it was. That means nothing for this madness, however.” 

“Doesn’t it? You know as well as I do that all-powerful artifacts like that have a double in the Observatory - for safety, of course.” Amorpho shifted into an Observant, severe and serious with arms crossed behind his back. Ghostwriter couldn’t help a bitter laugh. Come into my parlor, said the spider to the fly. 

“I also know that such a thing would never be given back to me. They barely let me keep my keyboard the first time around and you think they would give me another? After I broke the truce?” Ghostwriter swallowed, feeling the strings of the web tighten around his neck like a noose. 

“Oh, I am fully aware that they would never give you such a thing.” A flash and it was ‘Walker’ standing in front of Ghostwriter, twisted smile on his face. “That would be against the rules, after all.” Ghostwriter was fully aware it was Amorpho, but the sight of the warden in front of him was still enough to send a chill down his spine. 

“And so your plan is to break into the Observatory, home of the Observants, and steal it?” Ghostwriter swallowed, hardly able to get the words out himself. “This is madness, Peyton, and you know it. Your pranks are one thing, but you could be destroyed for this.” 

“Possible.” Walker disappeared and Skulker took his place. “It could be thrilling, though, don’t you think? A hunt of our own.” Another flash and it was Ember. “Pull this off and get out of there and everyone would know our names!” A change and it was Randy, Ghostwriter’s own brother with that familiar, wild grin that was always so good at tugging them both into trouble. “C’mon, Andy… this’ll be fun.” 

Ghostwriter bit his lip, looking away from Amorpho and back to his shelves, reaching out to straighten some of the books even though they were already perfect. He only stopped at the sound of scales slithering against his coat, climbing up his back slowly and surely before reaching his neck and shoulders and ah… No longer a web, but the tempter himself. 

“Come on, Andrew,” Amorpho said sweetly. “It’d be such a shame if you never got to use your keyboard again. If you never got to tell your stories again.”

Gathering himself together, Ghostwriter scoffed as he shot a glare to the red-eyed snake. “Temptation from the serpent himself, hm? Rather cliché - even for you.” 

“Oh, well, you know,” Amorpho waggled his head to and fro, tongue flicking out on a hiss. “You always did seem the type to give into temptation, Ghostwriter.” 

Plucking Amorpho off his shoulder, Ghostwriter dropped him and watched him calmly as the other shifted back into his usual form. He had no doubt Amorpho would be smirking if he could. “And just how, exactly, do you plan on getting into the Observatory?” 

“I’m me, my dear… and that means that I am everyone.” Amorpho shifted his form and even Ghostwriter, sheltered as he was, knew the sight of an Observant guard when he saw one. It was the words that came out that had him pausing. “My, my, Ghostwriter, caught using your powers to upset the natural order? I’m afraid it’s the Observatory for you.” 

Quite a plan, Ghostwriter mused to himself, to walk right in as if they belonged. Dropping his books and letting his powers wrap around them, Ghostwriter sent them to their proper places with a flick of his hand, looking at ‘the Observant guard’ sent to arrest him.

“Alright, Amorpho,” Ghostwriter grinned, slow and dangerous as he flicked his hand again, a quill appearing in his hand along with a softly glowing notebook. “This might just work after all.” 

#danny phantom #holiday truce #amorpho #ghost writer #ghostwriter #my writing #original

[amandaoftherosemire]

Lightning Strikes -- Part Fifteen

Fandom: Marvel Avengers AU

Pairing: Thor Odinson X Reader (Series)

Characters: Loki Odinson

Author: @amandarosemire

Rating: Mature

Word Count: 4,102

Format: Series WIP

Warning: Angst, language, more Loki.

Summary: You try to get a straight answer out of Loki about what is happening to you. Loki doesn’t totally lie his ass off, for once.

A/N: Loki strikes again and derails my plans for this story. The human tendency for dual-mindedness is an amazing thing. Knowing that I’m in control of all of this does not in any way lessen the feeling that Loki is an active participant in the writing process with his own agenda. He’s such a pain in my ass. The point is that I was planning to move on from Loki, and back to Thor (finally) but Loki’s not having it, apparently. Ugh. Prima donna.

<Lightning Strikes -- Part Fourteen here

 Caustic

When you awoke a couple hours later, you found yourself laying along Loki's side, your head pillowed on the once again pale skin of his chest. With one arm, he cradled you easily against his still cold body, but in his other hand he held a book. Propped up against the mound of pillows at the head of his bed, he looked so serene in this moment, you found yourself reluctant to disturb him.

Loki was feeling serene, content in a way he couldn't ever remember feeling before. Such things weren't generally in his nature, but the sensation of your body resting against his in sleep was both sweet and satisfying. Regardless of your exhaustion, he knew you would never allow yourself this vulnerability unless you trusted him, at least, to not harm you. It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing.

He'd been more honest with you today than he had been with anyone in a long time. When you'd lost your temper the moment you'd laid eyes on him, it had taken everything he had to keep silent and still. He'd felt oddly obligated, however, to let you vent your anger; he couldn't deny you had a right to far more than merely a few slaps. Keeping that in the forefront of his mind had made it easier to bear the brunt of your hatred.

What made it most difficult was that he'd wanted you the moment he'd opened the door to see you, all of you, standing on the other side. With the real, whole you looking out at him, all he could imagine was placing his lips on yours, breathing your breath. Holding himself back from snatching you up into his arms, stopping himself from using the cold to seduce you into moaning mindlessness, had been excruciating. Loki was not used to denying himself what he wanted. Only the way he felt about you, the twinge of remorse he felt at the things he had done to you, restrained him.

He had been utterly sincere when he'd expressed both empathy and remorse for your heartbreak. He had no interest seeing you hurt, had genuinely not cared how you amused yourself with your boyfriends. Even should you choose to extend that amusement out for the length of their lifetimes, the prospect didn't give him pause. Loki had plans for the two of you that would take decades to come to fruition. He had plenty of time. 

He felt the change in your body signaling the end of your nap and his reprieve. He wondered how you'd surprise him now.

"Oh. Boo." You murmured it, the dismay ripe in your voice, when his gaze flicked from his book to you, emerald green caressing your face. "The Pretty Lying Bastard is back."

"What does that mean, my love?" He couldn't stop himself from smiling at the acerbic tone to your voice. He’d always liked you best when you were strong and sarcastic.

The smile fell from his lips when you pushed yourself to a sitting position, bringing yourself closer to eye level with him. You turned to fix him with a bleary-eyed, yet still suspicious glare. "I like Loki better blue and honest," you replied, your voice rough from sleep, but utterly serious in tone.

"The two are not related." As often happened, Loki's mood flipped, and his voice turned dark and cold. You ignored it, merely lifting a brow in response, unafraid of his moods or whims. You had seen the bottom of the well of grief. Loki had no more power to harm you mentally or emotionally and he was entirely too concerned with your well-being to be willing to harm you physically. You wondered if you were building an immunity to his poison.

Even if you were, it didn’t change all of the other things tearing at your heart. You sighed, still heartsick at the loss of your boys, certain you still would be in those thousand years. You knew now why you'd been so certain you couldn't resist Loki. Not because you lacked the willpower, or the inclination, but the incentive.

Part of you had known you couldn't keep them, had acknowledged it even as you'd ignored that the potion had destroyed that chance; you'd wanted that life badly enough to lie to yourself. You couldn't blame Loki when you'd known better from the beginning but had ignored what you didn’t want to see.

"I never thought for a moment that they were." Your lips curved slightly, and your tone remained mild, though the melancholy was an undercurrent to every word. You were calm and cool once more. Whether that was the cold, the purge of emotion, the nap, or a combination of all three you weren't sure and didn't care. All that mattered was that you were back in control.

"Get off your high horse,” you sneered as you rolled your eyes and snagged one of the fifteen or so blankets tossed across the bed. Reclining against the pillows next to him, you went on airily, "The only two times I've seen your blue form was when I was about to die. It's not my fault that makes you feel guilty enough to stop lying for five damn minutes." As you spoke, you covered up and got comfortable, intending to get as much information as possible out of Loki while he still had that guilt nipping at his memory.

"What is this?" You tilted your head when Loki tossed his book aside as he turned to his side to face you, propping his head on one hand. The nonchalant way you reacted to his true form made him tremble deep inside. He ignored the feeling, telling himself he’d think about it later. He’d much rather focus on the casual demeanor you’d adopted now.

"This is not humor," as he spoke his eyes searched your face, seeking to understand what mood you’d come to, "nor is it hate." His hand came up, fingers whispering across your cheek as his lips curved slightly. "I hope it isn't surrender."

Your hand came up to swat his away. "Shut up." When his grin flashed, your eyes narrowed. "This is a détente, a temporary truce while I recuperate." Now that you weren't exhausted, you were having a harder time ignoring the cold beckoning from Loki's body.

The sensation of his fingers on your skin had pleasure immediately singing in your mind; you'd had to knock his hand away, too easily swayed by the cold. You could still feel it emanating from his body, even through the space between you, and the temptation to coil and curve around him was painful. "I am so angry at you, Loki." Your voice was hot and harsh with banked rage, but you didn't know if you spoke to inform him or remind yourself.

"As well you should be," Loki replied, his eyes glittering. The urge to touch you was nigh overwhelming, but you'd made your preference clear. "I have been callous with you, thoughtlessly cruel.” That glitter softened with what looked like real remorse. “I am sorry, my love. I… miscalculated.”

"And that is the reason for the détente." You sneered, thinking his choice of words was telling. That it sounded like a 'sorry you got offended' kind of apology made it easy to brush aside. "You are, at least, saying that you're sorry. Even if you don't mean it, it’s a pleasant lie.”

Loki's eyes flashed in what looked a lot like hurt and insult, and you felt guilty for being cruel. The next moment, you were swamped by a wave of resentment at the very idea that you should feel guilty for anything when it came to Loki.

The mood swings were swiftly making you tired all over again. You sighed, certain you wouldn’t get a straight answer but needing to try. “Why, Loki? Why did you do this to me? I could have been happy with my boyfriends,” you used his snotty intonation on the word, “for a normal, human lifetime and never looked back.”

“Oh, please,” he rolled his eyes and flopped onto his back, impatient with the very idea. “I’m making you a goddess and you’re complaining about lost nights in front of the television with the soldiers.”

“Well, we do TV night a little different,” you purred smugly, testing his statement regarding jealousy even as your heart ached.

The arched brow he shot your way as he put his arms behind his head told you he knew to what you were referring. You, Steve, and Bucky hadn’t yet made it through a movie without someone’s wandering hands diverting everyone’s attention. You wondered which evening he’d peeked on; their couch had been the site of any number of deliciously debauched scenes, the fulfillment of your fantasy regarding Steve in your mouth while Bucky fucked you from behind, for instance.

“Yes," he said, amused, "I have inadvertently checked on you while you were occupied with your boyfriends." His face spread in a mischievous, appreciative grin. "You are… enthusiastic, and highly entertaining.”

“Pervert.”

Loki frowned, not at the insult, but at the mild tones and almost affectionate smile with which you softened it. You'd decided to try a more conciliatory attitude, for the moment at least, in the hopes that you could charm him into giving you more information on your current predicament.

Rather than approach your confusing mood directly, Loki opted to go along with it. “If you were in my shoes," he retorted, turning back to his side to face you, one arm under his head, one arm coming down to drape over his waist, a smile starting to play around his lips, "and you happened upon a scene such as that, tell me you would have turned and left immediately.” The mocking doubt in his tone made it clear what answer he expected.

Your lips twitched as you deliberately drug your eyes from the fascinating play of muscle in his arms and chest as he moved, turning to your side to blink at Loki, your expression innocent as a summer sky. “Of course I would.” Your voice could not have been more surprised, as though you were shocked at the very idea that you would violate someone's privacy, even for a moment.

Loki’s eyes narrowed. When you'd turned your face to his, the sweetness of having you, the whole you, in his bed rocketed through him so that he couldn't look away. You were gazing into him with such intensity, he couldn't help but wonder what you saw when you looked at him.

“Liar.”

His voice held such a wealth of offense in that one quiet word, you couldn’t help but burst out laughing. He was right; you probably wouldn’t have stopped watching right away, either, no matter how your conscience complained.

The sight of you dissolving into laughter made his heart flutter in his chest. He'd missed you more than he liked to admit. He wasn't entirely certain he hadn't ended the spell simply because he couldn't stand being without you another moment.

“Besides, it was more entertaining than watching Thor mope around about you, again, still." He dismissively waved the hand not under his head, but you could swear you caught a touch of censure in his gaze and wondered at it. "Are you ever going to put him out of my misery and end it, once and for all? Or are you going to keep him on a lead for the foreseeable future?"

"I'm not keeping hi--" You cut yourself off, knowing he was trying to draw you into an argument, but unwilling to oblige when you saw no reason for it, especially when you didn’t have the high ground. "That’s bait." You said it firmly, determined to not get sidetracked. You had far more important things to discuss with Loki and your relationship with his brother was not one of them, if for no other reason than it was none of his business. "Go back to the part where you’re ‘making me a goddess.’ The fuck does that mean?"

Loki was amused, but mostly with himself. He'd considered you formidable when you still somewhat trusted him. Now that he'd lost that tenuous faith, you were that much more difficult to distract. Nothing less than a measure of the truth would satisfy you in this mood. He shrugged inwardly; it wasn't as though you hadn't more than earned it.

"On Jotunheim," he sighed, reluctantly, "they have their own goddesses." You felt as though every atom of your body was focused on Loki. You could hear the ring of truth in his voice and wondered if you'd finally reached something real. You could see in his eyes the shine of genuine emotion, and you'd swear it looked like pain. "The tears of a goddess of ice, of grief, from a land of perpetual winter, are the foundation of the potion I gave you."

He continued to lay, lazily indolent, even as you lifted to a sitting position, though he rolled to his back to keep facing you. You stared at him, propped against overstuffed pillows, amongst the lush green silk and golden velvet indulgence of his bed, looking as relaxed as any pampered prince, but you could see the tension in the fine tremor almost hidden in the flutter of his eyelashes. He smiled in an attempt to mask the nerves he felt at the look on your face, irritation flaring your nostrils.

"Loki." You closed your eyes in sheer frustration. Even when Loki seemed to be telling the truth, he had to be overdramatic about it. "Will you, please," the word held an ocean of repressed aggravated rage, "stop dicking around for five fucking minutes and tell me what’s fucking happening to me?"

Loki could tell by the increase in your Fucks Per Minute that you were at the edge of your patience. His eyes unfocused as he remembered a world scoured by ice, where he'd found his own loss and betrayal. He lifted his hand to trace the line of your jaw in regret for how he'd treated you. "'A drop, and an hour is a day. My Lady's tears slow the fastest fluttering heart.'" When your jaw locked and your eyes widened in the first red flag that you were five seconds away from losing your temper again, Loki spoke quickly to head off your rage. He was concerned that another bout of either fury or tears would break you entirely.

"The truth, my love, is that I’m not entirely sure." He held up his hands in surrender, trying to keep you calm as he explained. "If I had been the first and only person to touch you after you took the potion, things would have been very different. Instead…" He shrugged and put those hands behind his head, trailing off rather than mention, yet again, your habit for unpredictability.

You ignored him, your frustration forgotten as your mind clicked into gear, making logical leaps and connecting dots of information. "Thor," you murmured as you thought of the night you took the potion, the memory of Thor's glowing eyes and the feeling of electricity dancing over the surface of your skin, your heart racing in response. Your eyes lifted and narrowed on Loki's face, still on guard against a lie. "The lightning."

Loki loved watching your mind work, adored seeing how easily you grasped what he didn't say, though the quickness of your brain caused him no end of trouble. It was abundantly clear how little you trusted him, though he could hardly blame you for it. Still, he missed the days when you’d both enjoyed the playfully adversarial tone of your friendship, hated that you now found his presence painful.

He could also see clearly how difficult he would find it to convince you of any of that. Thanks to that agile mind, the excuses and rationalizations he could offer for why he acted both for you, but also, admittedly, in his own self-interest, would fail to persuade, no matter how silver-tongued he was purported to be. He reminded himself that he had a very long time to worm his way back into your good graces, however, starting with a little honesty.

"You are becoming a goddess," he explained, adoring the expression of reluctant fascination moving over your face, "mostly of ice, but you may need more than cold to become everything you could be." He loved how you listened to everything he both said and didn't say and wondered when you'd come back to the part about a 'goddess of grief', worried about when you'd connect that to some of the other things he'd done.

Loki's mouth spread in a charmingly wicked grin when you shot him a suspicious look, unsure he was saying what you thought when it seemed like exactly the kind of thing he would lie about, but rather to hide the information, not reveal it. He seemed to be suggesting that you seek out Thor's lightning the way you sought his own cold. You didn't get a chance to think further about it, however, because he was suddenly surging upward to take your shoulders in his icy hands.

"My turn," he growled, emerald green piercing as his gaze searched your face. "Why didn’t you have the oaf break the spell?" He spoke quickly, while you grappled with the other things he'd confessed, in the hopes that he could catch you off guard.

You blinked at him, surprised by the question, though you'd wondered if he'd suspected you'd been planning on going to Thor as a last resort. You decided to give him the very thing he hoarded like gold, the unvarnished truth, despite how vulnerable it made you feel. "I didn’t want to have to escape. I wanted you to let me go."

Loki's hands tightened around your shoulders, an angry scowl darkening his features as he pulled your face closer to his. "Why?"

The harsh tone to his voice, hurt barely masked by confusion, softened your fury with him by an iota. It was enough that you continued to give him the truth, despite knowing it would only encourage him. You sighed, irritated with yourself for being too easily swayed where your heart was engaged. "Because I wanted to be able to forgive you someday."

The grip Loki had around your upper arms loosened in surprise. As soon as he was no longer holding you upright, you let yourself fall back onto the bed. You lay against the mound of pillows, throwing your arm over your eyes to hide, whether from Loki or yourself you weren't sure anymore.

You lay there, in silence, tired, heartbroken, and frustrated with the both of you. You didn't know who was irritating you more at the moment, Loki for being Loki or yourself for being entirely too susceptible to him. Between the love you couldn't kill and the cold you couldn't resist, you couldn't make yourself get out of the damn bed and leave already. Hell, at this point, you weren't certain whether the cold or the man held more allure for you. Either way, you couldn't find it in yourself to walk away.

The cold alone was nearly irresistible, especially after such a long time between treatments. You wondered if the potion had given you an addiction to the arctic sensations that ran over your skin every time he touched you. If so, you were afraid you were a full-blown junkie, and Loki was, unfortunately, your dealer.

Also like a drug, something about the cold made you feel better, even from a distance. You studiously ignored the voice in your mind that suggested it would feel better if you got closer.

You made yourself stay in place, refused to allow yourself to turn to Loki for comfort, to let him touch you. You knew better, knew that taking comfort from him was dangerous territory, the first step to allowing yourself to trust him. Trusting Loki, even a little, was the fastest way to ruin. You knew all of that, but the seemingly genuine remorse, seemingly genuine pain, was lowering your defenses.

That Loki seemed genuine in general made you wonder if you'd finally gotten something resembling truth for once. Attempting to distract yourself from the ache around your heart at the thought, you tried to catalogue what Loki had told you versus what you believed to be the truth beneath it.

According to Loki, and your gut that he was being honest in this one case, you needed the cold to stay alive. And, as heartbroken as you were, grieving the end of your love affair with Steve and Bucky, you wanted to stay alive.

You'd also learned that Loki's potion had not gone according to his original plan, thanks to your drunken shenanigans, though he was being annoyingly vague as to how. You couldn't be even a little sad to hear it, no matter how it complicated things. You much preferred it, and him, when he wasn’t entirely in command of a situation.

Your occasional penchant for contrariness had also given you unexpected leverage against Loki in this battle of wits and wills. He'd tried to sideline his brother at the beginning of the game, but you'd found a way put him back in, intentionally or not. If you knew Thor at all, and you did, he'd be delighted to be the stick you used to beat Loki over the head. The part that puzzled you was why Loki had admitted to it.

Almost everything Loki had said and done over the course of this strange afternoon puzzled you, actually. Though you had often suspected him of half-truths during the course of your confrontations, you didn't get the impression that he had straight-up lied at any point. You knew him to be a dangerously accomplished liar, however, so you couldn't be sure that he hadn't simply succeeded in deceiving you.

Whatever he might believe, he had not succeeded in deceiving you regarding the importance of his admission that the potion had farther reaching effects than simply extending your life. You had no doubt now that he had far more ambitious plans for you than he was willing to admit. He had no need to make a goddess of one he only wanted as a pet.

Loki's sigh of sadness broke your concentration, but you didn't move your arm from where it hid your eyes from his frustratingly impenetrable gaze. You reminded yourself that you had plenty of time now, both for self-reflection and for discovering and foiling Loki's plots and schemes.

Right now, it all sounded exhausting.

"I have a confession," Loki said, softly. He paused, unsure, until you uncovered your face and looked at him, your expression serious, but calm. "I have to admit that I lied earlier.” The sheepish grin that touched his mouth would have amused you once.

“You?" You gasped slightly, laying your hand over your heart, the sarcasm thick. "Lied? Say it ain’t so.”

He continued to smile, though the corners were touched with the same sadness that you'd heard in his sigh. You realized, as your heart hurt a little in response, that it didn't seem to matter how angry you were with him, you still didn't like to see him in pain.

Loki laid down next to you on his back, the ache in his throat making it too difficult to look at you any longer. The sight of you amongst the pillows and blankets of his bed where he'd had you over and over again, yet still as untouchable to him as ever, cut him to the quick. He didn't know how to tell you, or if he even should, that he'd do it differently, perhaps be more honest with you, if he had it to do over again.

He pushed that thought aside. He didn't believe in looking behind him, long ago accepting that there was no going back, only forward, damn the consequences.

“I am a little jealous of your boyfriends." You thought he was using his mockingly bored tone at first and considered hitting him for bringing up Steve and Bucky again. You turned your head, a sneer forming on your face until you saw he was studiously not looking at you, keeping his gaze on the ceiling above him. "I only touched the shell." Your eyes narrowed at the wistful sound to his voice. "They get all of you. I cannot help but wonder what that’s like.”

“Take your other form and I’ll show you.”

Lightning Strikes -- Part Sixteen here> (Coming soon!!)

Taglist:

@lbouvet @rocknroll-is-thewaytogo @chook007 @quickies-with-quicksilver @deinopis @daylight-saver @rishlo @pebblesz892 @bibliophile1773 @bojabee @knightofreaders @pancake-pages @666nunslut666 @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @lilulo-12 @tabbytyler @sunigyrl @suz-123 @cheekygeek05 @hellzzzbelle @jewels2876 @innerpaperexpertcloud @irritated-bisexual @miraclesoflove @fashionworld12​ @elsasshole​ @rose-01​ @maeleeme​ @diinofayce​ @nerdy-bookworm-1998​ @destiel-is--endgame​ @peaceinourtime82​ @badassbaker​ @walkingtravesty97​

[kagebros]

Aware (Optimus Prime x Reader)

Summary: You can handle yourself pretty well in situations but this one just happens to be an unlucky one, where you’re captured by the Decepticons. Optimus and the Autobots have to come save you but it leaves both you and Optimus a little shaken in the aftermath.  Warnings: Violence, Self Harm? Word Count: 3527

Tags: N/A (DM me if you’d like to be tagged!)

"Are you sure you will be alright?" Optimus asks you, for potentially the 8th time this month. You had accidentally met the Autobots when you were on your way home from work one day, having taken the graveyard shift and leaving when it was still dark when you fell asleep at the horn and crashed into an Autobot. It definitely was a wakeup call and now you were stuck with being given a guardian.

Problem was, you were a fully grown adult and being treated like that made you a little unhappy. After all, it made sense if the children were being babysat but you weren't all for that due to your age. The one called Optimus grew increasingly concerned over your wellbeing, often asking you whether or not you needed a guardian and that the option was always open. You knew Ratchet wasn't exactly open to being put on babysitting duty and Optimus wouldn't have been the best choice, with how busy he always was and the fact he was the leader of the Autobots. They needed him here. Not babysitting a grown adult.

"Yes, Optimus, I assure you I'll be fine," you replied evenly. "I'm just going home, I doubt any Decepticon is gonna jump me," you said. Optimus let out a worried hum and stood back up to go back to his work. You let out a quiet sigh when Optimus walked away. Why he was so protective and worried over you was something you have been wondering for the past few months. You had to admit you had a crush on the guy. But you couldn't say anything since, well first you were a guy and romantic attraction on Cybertron's planet was something you weren't familiar with. That and the fact you were a HUMAN and he most definitely was not. You put on your helmet and got on your motorcycle, it was a red sport motorcycle you had owned for many years and you were very attached to it. Revving the engine for a bit, Ratchet opened the gate and you sped through, waving goodbye for a quick second before looking ahead. The sunset off to the side was beautiful as always so you decided to go on a little detour instead just to enjoy your sweet time. After making a fair amount of distance to the next town essentially, your eye caught on a car beginning to tail you. Dropping your head just for a moment out of annoyance, you drove into the town, hoping to cut whoever was tailing you off. Your eye caught on an abandoned warehouse and you took a sharp left, entering the warehouse and stopping in there for a quick moment. Your engine stood idle before you heard a car drive in with a loud vroom. You let out an annoyed grunt before catching on a ramp up to the next level of the warehouse. You sped around the car in a circle to try and confuse it before driving up the ramp.

"C'mon c'mon there's gotta be a way out," you said to yourself. You then saw an open window and revved your engine. Someone must have turned it into a stunt place out of boredom, given the small ramp leading out of the window. You sped up, jumping off the ramp and seeing the end of it at ground level. During mid air though, something hit you, knocking you off your bike and throwing you to the ground, your head impacting against the pavement, immediately knocking you out.

You awoke to your hands being in chains, your body hanging a few feet above the ground. You looked around frantically but stayed quiet. The doors opened and a familiar face 'graced' your presence.

"Airachnid," you growled through gritted teeth.

"Hello, (y/n), nice to see you again," Airachnid smiled.

"What do you want," you snapped.

"Oh, you know. Lord Megatron has specifically requested that I-" Airachnid was cut off as the door opened with a release of air. Megatron stepped through, Airachnid stepping off to the side and bowing. "Lord Megatron, I," Airachnid looked for an excuse but couldn't find one.

"Silence, Airachnid, going behind my back other times may be excused but not this time," Megatron snapped. His optics then landed on you and you glared at him. "So you've managed to capture the little bug, good," he said.

"Naturally, Breakdown needed my help," Airachnid bragged. "Without my web, they would have gotten away," she said, looking over towards you with a sadistic grin.

"Get squished," you spat towards Airachnid.

"A fiery temper this human has," Megatron commented before stepping forward and gripping your torso tightly. You struggled to breathe and his red optics flared for a moment, taking amusement in your pain. You let out a strangled breath and he let you go, taking in a deep breath, heaving your lungs. "Set up the camera, I want to send a little message to our friends of ours," Megatron ordered.

"I'll get Soundwave, Lord Megatron," Airachnid said before leaving the room. Once she left, you looked towards Megatron with absolute hatred and anger.

"If you're trying to get the location of the Autobots base out of me, you're out of luck," you hissed. Megatron gave a low laugh and pulled you forward with his servos.

"That's too bad, if you had given the location to us we would have let you go," Megatron lied. You spat in his face and he recoiled for a moment before anger overtook him. "So the bug fights back even in the web," Megatron said, squeezing your body once again, harder this time to where you knew there were going to be bruises on your ribs. He let you go and you panted, head dropping down from the pain. "We'll get the location out of you, worm. Sooner or later, you'll crack." A release of air enacted from the door as Soundwave entered. "Soundwave," Megatron smiled. "Send a message to Optimus Prime and his Autobots," he said. "We have his pet."

"Incoming message from... Megatron?" Ratchet announced.

"Play the message," Optimus ordered. Ratchet put it on the screen and was shocked to see you in there. Optimus' optics widened when they immediately landed on you in the background.

"Hello, Optimus," Megatron said, a wicked smile on his face. "I believe I have something that belongs to you," he motioned towards you, the camera zooming in. There were cuts all over your face, as if Megatron had been tracing his claw all over various spots to make you bleed. You were breathing shallowly before looking up towards Soundwave.

"Guess I'm not fine, Optimus," you laughed weakly.

"Come and get them, Optimus," Megatron said. "I'll keep them... good company while they're here, but I have to say. You better come find them quickly unless you want to see your pet perish at the hands of me." He shot a servos towards you and pinched your head together with his digits like he was holding a grape. Your head was held up and finally the feeling of fear filled your core as you looked towards Soundwave. The connection was cut off and Optimus stepped back for a moment, trying to process what was happening. He had to keep his composure but the worry he had in his chassis was spilling out and all the Autobots were noticing it. He didn't say anything until Ratchet got his attention by placing a servos on his shoulder.

"We'll get them back, Optimus," Ratchet assured.

"Have you got a location on where (y/n) is?" Optimus asked.

"The signal from their helmet is still being sent, as long as the tracker is intact within it, we'll be able to find (y/n)," Ratchet replied. Optimus let his shoulders fall out of slight relief. "Opening the ground bridge now," he said, pulling the lever down.

"Autobots, roll out," Optimus said with fervor. No matter what he was going to get you back, even if it meant risking his own life.

You could barely see what was going on in front of you. The constant questioning of where the Autobot's base was soon becoming background noise and you simply hung there, head dropped down out of exhaustion, blood dripping from the cuts on your face. A loud bang came from Megatron as he slammed his arm on the metal wall, snapping your head up as he got your attention.

"Let me ask this ONE more time," Megatron hissed. "Where is the Autobot base located?!"

"I'll... never... betray my family like that," you said quietly, through gritted teeth.

"Then your usefulness to me has run out," Megatron said in a low voice. "Unfortunate for you, of course." He then reached a servos towards you before an energy blast shot him away from you. Bright lights filled your eyes as you snapped your head towards the doorway, where Optimus was standing, his mouthplate on and cannon out towards Megatron. His optics were full of anger but once they landed on you, his gaze softened. "So, Optimus, you finally came for your pet and we were having such a good time too, the red on their face looks so pretty," Megatron said, getting up from his kneeling position. Optimus soon lost his cool and charged towards Megatron, tackling him down and punching Megatron with as much force as possible. You could tell how angry Optimus, especially when he pointed his cannon straight at Megatron's face. Megatron only let out a laugh as he looked at Optimus. "Go ahead, finish it," Megatron coaxed. The anger that controlled Optimus earlier soon went away and he got off of Megatron, standing up.

"No," Optimus said. He put his cannon away and instead ripped off a piece of metal from the wall and drove it through Megatron's shoulder, a pained grunt coming from him as he was pinned to the ground. Optimus turned away and approached you, taking the cuffs off and taking your weak body into his servos. "Let's go home, (y/n)," Optimus said softly, taking you out of the cell and leaving Megatron in the room. "I have (y/n), Autobots, fall back," Optimus communicated. You were having trouble staying conscious as Optimus carried you in his servos. Soon you passed out in his servos out of exhaustion.

"(y/n)? (y/n)!" June's voice echoed. You blinked blearily as a friendly face came into view. "Oh, thank god you came to."

"Did I pass out again?" you said trying to sit up. You clutched at your chest and June pushed you gently down back on the bed.

"Easy now, your chest looks like it's been through a lot," June said. You looked at yourself now and realised you were shirtless. Bruises from Megatron's servos were heavily imprinted on your chest, you still felt like your ribs were on fire and it hurt to breathe. You sat up anyway, ignoring June's protests.

"Where, where's Optimus?" you asked. You clutched your side and looked around.

"He hasn't come out of his berthroom since you got here," Arcee replied. "Seeing you like that really shook him up, we were all worried. And hey," she said, gesturing to your motorcycle. "We managed to get this back too, Ratchet fixed it up for you while you were asleep." You slid your legs to the side of the bed and stood up.

"You're not leaving the base, if that's what you're doing," June scolded.

"I'm not," you said quietly. "I just need to be alone for a bit." You walked off towards the hall, where June, Miko, Raf and Jack looked towards each other with worry.

"Are they going to be alright?" Raf asked.

"They will be. They just need to be alone for a bit," June assured. "What they've been through is something that shouldn't have happened."

You entered the training room you had set up a while ago for you and the kids. It was a way to stay alert and vigilant while knowing how to fight. As you passed by the punching bag, you punched it before stopping in front of it. You were angry at yourself. Incredibly angry. The fact you let yourself get caught when you had been telling Optimus the exact opposite made you feel weak and worthless. Out of anger you punched the punching bag. Then again, and again, and again. You didn't care if your knuckles began to bleed as you punched it, it was just another way to punish yourself. For failing Optimus and putting the other's in danger over your careless act. You let out a yell as you then gave the punching bag a roundhouse kick, catching the bag's recoil and slumping down into a kneeling position, panting from the exertion. This time sadness overcame you and you slammed a fist down onto the concrete floor, crying out. Hot, angry tears flowed down your cheeks as you bit back a sob. Your head hung down as you slammed the floor multiple times, trying to cry it out. After letting it out and taking a few deep breaths, you sat up, exhaling shakily and standing up.

You looked at your knuckles which were now bloodied, dried blood caked on the skin and you moved your hand for just a moment and hissed with pain. With a loud sigh, you go over to the first aid table you had set up for everyone in case they got hurt during sparring sessions and began to wrap your hands with the available bandaging. After flipping your hand back and forth to examine the handiwork, you exited the training room. When you passed by June and the kids, you got on your motorcycle and turned it on. June stood up to try to stop you but you looked at her softly.

"I'm going on a quick ride, I'll be back soon," you said gently. With that you left the base, taking it easy on the motorcycle. You were surprised to see it was night time but it made sense, it felt like hours you were stuck in that godawful cell with Megatron. A soft smile grows on your face as you get off the road and begin riding up the giant rock formation. It was a place you used to come to as a kid whenever you needed time to yourself or get away from it all. You got off of your bike and walked all the way near the edge, sitting down and looking off in the distance as you hugged your legs close to you. You sat in silence for a while until you heard loud footsteps behind you. You turned to see Optimus approaching you.

Optimus, having confined himself to his berthroom, didn't realise you were awake until Ratchet knocked on the door, telling him that you recovered quite well. When Optimus asked if he could see you, Ratchet said right now wasn't the best time.

"They're in the training room if you want to see them," Ratchet informed. "But the way they left the room earlier, it's probably best we leave them alone." Optimus nodded and Ratchet left his room but something at at him that made him want to see you. Flashbacks earlier from today kept playing through his mind like a movie, seeing your face cut up from Megatron's claws, face bloodied to the point he wouldn't have been able to recognise you, and the fact that Megatron was really willing to kill you. If Optimus had lost you, he wouldn't have known what to do. In a burst of emotion, he got off the computer, paused his work, and exited his berthroom, walking down the hallway to go find you. He drew near the training room to hear you grunting. He decided against going in and instead watched you from the doorway, watching you pummel the punching bag in bursts of anger. When he heard you let out a yell and watched you kick the punching bag with a powerful kick, he drew back further, about to leave. Until you dropped to the floor and slammed a fist on the ground, hanging your head down as you cried. You were never open to being vulnerable so Optimus seeing this was something he knew he shouldn't have seen. He wanted to comfort you with all his heart but he instead stepped back and left, worried he might overstep and even betray your trust for watching you be so vulnerable.

When you left the base, Optimus entered the common area to see June and the children looking towards the tunnel with worry.

"You all should be home right now," Optimus said. "I'll go after them, do not worry." With that he turned into his altmode and drove out to follow you.

"May I join you?" Optimus asked you softly. You patted the spot next to you and he walked over to sit down beside you. The two of you sat in silence for a while before you spoke up.

"I'm really sorry about last night," you said. Guilt welled up in your chest as you said those words, a frown on your face as you rested your chin on top of your knees, hugging your legs closer to yourself. "What happened back there, I... I just felt so useless and weak," you murmured.

"What you did was your best to get away from them," Optimus said. "You were outnumbered and you did everything you could to evade them, this is something you should not be apologising for." You stayed silent for a moment, taking in what Optimus said to you. That near death experience though made you realise you needed to tell Optimus. At least... let him know how you really felt, especially the likelihood of dying wasn't going to get any lower.

"Optimus, I... I need to tell you something," you stated, eyes fixed on the horizon in front of you. His optics landed on you and watched you fumble with your words. "After... after what I experienced today, almost dying, if you hadn't been there to save me I'd be," you pause for a moment in attempt to swallow down your fear, but you're unable to finish the sentence. "I just. I need you to know this at least, because maybe I'll never get the chance to say it." You take a deep breath and let go of your legs, sitting up straighter. "I have feelings for you." Optimus doesn't answer for a moment and you feel your heart sink just a little bit. You knew this was folly in the first place. But you needed to let him know.

"I know," Optimus finally replied. You look up towards him with a bewildered expression to where he lets out a soft chuckle. "Your actions and feelings towards me do not go unnoticed, (y/n)," he said. "But your feelings do not go unreciprocated either." You blinked for a moment and felt your face heat up. He gives you a smile and you begin to think you look like a tomato right now. "Seeing you today like that... made me realise I needed you more than ever. And that I would be willing to do anything to protect you."

"I didn't think you'd feel the same," you said. "I... I still remember when you punched Ratchet in front of all of us, Optimus... when he was speaking about Elita One and..." you trailed off. You watched him tense for a moment as the memories were brought up and his optics look wistful for just a moment. "She still means a lot to you after all this time, doesn't she?"

"Time heals all wounds, (y/n)," Optimus replied. "But the physical wounds are the ones to heal the fastest." You give a light laugh.

"They never tell you about the scars it leaves," you said, looking up to him now with a sad smile. He gives a hum in understanding and you climb onto his leg, where Optimus offers his servos and you climb on, sitting on your knees as you faced him. After a moment of silence of just looking into his optics, you spoke up. "Can I try something?" you asked gently.

"What is it?" Optimus replied, the gaze he held towards you full of affection. You leaned forward and kissed Optimus, feeling cold metal that was quickly replaced with warmth underneath. Optimus shut his optics and kissed back, trying to be gentle as possible so as to not push you off his servos. You pulled away when you needed air and Optimus opened his optics to look at you once again. A warm smile grows on his face and he raises his servos to trace your cheek with a digit. He set you down with his servos and you nuzzled up to him, leaning onto his warm frame. "If you're still willing, I'd like to be your guardian," Optimus asked quietly. You hummed in response as you thought about it.

"I should have said yes in the very beginning," you replied. A smile graced Optimus' lips and while you didn't look up, you knew he was smiling.

#optimus prime x reader #optimus prime #tfp optimus prime #transformers #kagebros.writing #post isn't showing up in the op x reader tag :( #im gonna try again to see if it works hmph #anyway im gay for my metal husband #x male reader

[maikatc]

Black Sun Tale | Bloody Fingers

just to say, this chapter isn't as bad as the title makes it seem but wahoo

remember this is a first draft with only minor editing, but enjoy! comments and reception are heavily appreciated.

-

He treaded down the streets of Obodo, legs sore and physical body dying. Despite the pain however, the flashes of the prior hours quickened his pace. He kept his hood up against the crowd to hide his contrasted red and blackened face.

He whispered to himself, “So, he didn’t die…”

The surprise left half the bricks on him afloat. The throbbing external pain also added a mark for proof of the miracle. 

He wandered through the streets alone, too boggled up by the events he’d been in. 

The crosswalk shined red and urged him to stop his hurried legs. He panted against his raging heartbeat. Without realizing, his own body was rushing to go somewhere, get something irredeemable. 

However, Oliver only fixated himself to the solved situation at hand. “He didn’t back away from me… he still wants to help.”

The light turned green; he dashed passed his waiting herd. 

Why the hell would he help me? He questioned. I’m the killer; I’m the one who hit him- 

A shot of achiness went through his entire body. He stumbled on his steps, bumping into surrounding fodder. He pled his apologies in mumbles as he rushed away from them. 

He grumbled. “I have to talk to Alice.” His stomach screamed at him once more while the black markings started to burn. “And that too.” 

His feet turned to a certain crosswalk, in which what lied ahead woke Oliver up for real. 

He tensed from the idea, growing sick of it by the seconds. 

Am I really…?

The thought of blood craved upon his lips. He hesitated on the decision. 

The crosswalk lit green; Oliver took a step forward to the park he had been in shortly ago. 

“I’m going to regret this.”

*

Bombs of screaming children blasted at his ears. He stood in the midst of all the chaos, studying everyone around in a hazy state; heart aching from his actions. 

Kids mocked each other of their speed; others played tag with fun-filled smiles. A group of children gathered around a single spot to dig up the mulch and find treasure; while another made a game through the slides. 

They all held youthful faces. Too young for Oliver to interfere. 

Though, in the corner of his eye, a small sandbox sat on the side. Glimpsing upon it, a girl built valleys by herself at the spot. Her face blurred to Oliver, though her size seemed about his age, the oldest out of the entire park. 

He pitied her. She’s lived a longer life than anyone else here. It’s the fairest. 

A clench was made with his fists with the thought. 

He whisked around, stepping back to exit the playground. He stumbled and panted through his aches, but the girl wasn’t worth it. 

The steps grew longer and heavier the closer he made it out; Oliver pushed onwards despite. Nobody would be harmed by him anyways. A winning situation for them all. 

The marks stung him but stopped jolting him awake. And his eyes turned drowsier. Oliver’s mind became numb as it drifted away from control. 

All Oliver could comprehend before blacking out was his body turning back.  

A brush of the grass tickled his hands and cheeks as he slept. Though, the air was silent upon him, no animals chirping or tree leaves wrestling. All there lied was a grey sky and the deafening atmosphere of Fowls. 

In a gasp, Oliver jolted awake. He wheezed in air from the fear that’s struck within him and checked his stomach. 

It was already filling up and healing. 

He sat up. The forest still had its dead presence like before and like himself. Cursing at himself, he smacked his hand against the ground. 

Steps came from the distance, grass getting crushed then forming back up again in the process. The same old woman appeared before Oliver. 

She frowned, “Not doing well, I assume?”

He scowled at Alice. “I’m getting more insane by the day, I swear.”

She sighed. “Believe me, almost everyone here would agree with you.” She got down to her knees, adjusting her dress to the ground. “How did the meeting with your friend occur?” 

In a short time, Oliver reluctantly conversed about the previous two days involving Ayu with the woman. 

“Of course, that boy wouldn’t have been in danger by your attack in the first place,” she exclaimed.

“W-what?”

She smiled. “You had nothing to worry about with him, Oliver. Honestly, I say you keep him as a friend with that reason.” 

Oliver questioned, “But why would you know that?”

“Pardon?” Her eyes widened. “Oh! That’s simple. I heard of you talking with the boy from Vittorino so I went to learn a bit about him myself out of curiosity.” She flushed red. 

Oliver stared. “That’s… a little weird of you.” He exhaled. “But anyways, he told me to talk to you about something so that’s why I’m here.”

“What is it?”

He tattled his fingers against his legs. “Do I have any powers?”

Her face turned to concern. “Oh dear, I thought you already knew.”

He scoffed, “How would I’ve known?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she admitted. “You could’ve just figured it out through the wolf or started going through developments already!”

“Well, I didn’t even know the wolf existed until today so that’s convenient.” 

“Goodness,” she hissed and grumbled, “Why are you so terrible, Ak-.” She took a breath.

Oliver raised a brow. “You good there?”

“Yes, I’m swell.” She placed a hand on her forehead. “I’ll explain for you then.”

“Thanks.”

“Now before anything, the wolf was created for you as an emergency device just so you know.” She adjusted his messy hair as she spoke. 

Though Oliver whisked her hand off. “For if I starve myself?”

“Exactly,” she replied. “I actually find it quite surprising that he- the wolf grew such an intelligence for gathering food. Such a marvel in magic I must say.” She smiled in her words. 

Oliver made skeptical eyes. “You say that as if it’s a good thing.” 

Alice noted, “Oh it isn’t at all; however, it’s still an astonishing tool for you to live.” She faced him with caring eyes even if he didn’t reciprocate. “Though, I assume Ayu stopped the wolf too quickly for you to come into contact with me. But that’s just him.”

“Can we just move on,” Oliver stopped her. 

Alice paused from her next words. She adjusted herself. “Ah, yes… Aside from the wolf, your abilities are rather simplistic. From what I can recall you only have two.”

He asked, “And what are they exactly?”

“That’s the part I love,” she states. “You have your father’s abilities: Invisibility and shapeshifting.” 

Oliver froze. “… Wait that’s actually cool.”

Alice giggled. “Yes, I suppose so.”

“That just means I can mess around with almost everybody,” he grinned. 

“Just to inform you,” she added, “with your blood and the fact that your powers are natural, you’ll have to learn manually. That and you have to keep your body in maintenance at the very least to be able to use them.”  

He pouted. “Now that’s lame.” He grumbled against his own disabilities, though changed tone after. “If you’re saying that I have to learn, then can you help me with that?”

Alice scoffed, “You’re asking me? Oliver, of course I would help you. Though, I’d consider you taking lessons from me if you want to learn.”

“Why lessons?” 

“So, then you can be educated efficiently. Don’t consider my teachings as critical though; I’ve never honed the abilities or even my own by heart.”

Oliver bit his lip. “Well, thank you then.” He shifted his gears to, “One other thing?”

“Yes?”

“Is it possible for,” he hesitated from asking. “Can Ayu come along to learn about your history and stuff?”

Alice turned to him, brows up in a surprised expression. “Why does he desire to know?” Her tone was cold; brisk in the state of urgency. 

Oliver tensed by her question. “He’s… just as confused as me; he doesn’t know what’s going on or what he’s doing so he wants help too,” he proclaimed. “This might do the trick for him if his guess is right.”

“Guess?”

Oliver side-eyed her. “I don’t wanna go into that much detail, but he’s eager to do anything by this point…”

Alice didn’t say a word. She gazed upon the grass ahead of them. “I cannot foretell if it’s possible-”

“Please Alice… Mom,” he interrupted, forcing the title to come from his words. “You say that I should stick with him, right? Then why don’t I help him to pay that back?”

“Oh, Oliver…,” Alice sighed. She pulled a strand of hair while mumbling, “I suppose I can request someone to advise him.”

The boy smiled at her. “Now that’s quite satisfying to hear,” he mimicked her accent. “Greatest gratitude.”

She narrowed her eyes with a sneer along with him. “You’re a snarky one, aren’t you?”

“When I feel like it,” he replied. “Hold on a second- who’ll be the person to teach him?”

“Simply a good friend of mine,” she answered, relaxing herself in the grass some more. “There’s nothing to stress about with her, even if she is a tad cantankerous.”

“Canta- what now?” He eyed her with the frazzled phrase.

“Ill-tempered. She’s ill-tempered,” she giggled. “… You likely have to go soon, don’t you?”

Oliver’s face dulled back to his old irritation. He laid back against the grass, pressing on his stomach. “I feel full now so yeah,” he puffed against the cold air. 

“Well,” Alice glumly spoke. She stood up, picking off specks of grass on her skirt. “You ought to start sleeping yourself awake now.” She set a forced breath of a laugh. 

“I guess so…” He shimmied around the grass patch. Discomfort from the fakeness of it all itched his skin.

Footsteps rang through Oliver’s head, growing fainter with each stride. It brushed his ears to where it tranced him; his eyes growing heavy with a dozy mind. As the steps disappeared, the last thing whispered to him was, “I’ll see you whenever you wish.”

A gasp of air leaped out of Oliver’s throat. His eyes lit up upon the stump he’d known all too well. Its veins of bark stared back at him while he studied its line markings again. 

After a few known minutes, the boy sat up with an expressionless face. He was greeted with a quiet blood gala featuring scraps being eaten up by flies, a weekly event. 

It never dawned on him. The blood’s scent was almost precious by instinct, tickling his nose with its aroma. 

Without a reply to the dead silence, Oliver looked down towards his hands. Red covered over his skin; ripe without much dirt, he gazed upon them, odor looming over him. 

He licked it all off. 

The taste was delectable for him. 

***

With his mind clear and majority of his body clean of blood, Oliver walked along the pathways back home. 

“Whenever I wish huh…”

“I’ll go and tell Alice once you’ve decided,” Vittorino said. He jumped out from behind. The surprise pushed Oliver forward through flinching. 

“Why is it always you and Faustus who do that?” He grumbled while adjusting his dirty cardigan. 

Vittorino grinned. “Ah, who’s to know, really. He’s admirable though, so maybe I may have picked up something from him.”  

“So, you did know him,” Oliver asked.

“Not entirely?” They both walked on.

Oliver turned flat faced. “That isn’t entirely helpful either.”

Vittorino walked backwards, facing him. “I’m not supposed to be the most helpful person. You should be acknowledged of this by now.” 

“Still isn’t the best for me,” he grumbled. “What do you even do aside from this? - I mean- I know what you’re a part of but-”

“But that’s an easy answer for me,” he finished. He leaped onto street steps, swinging around the sign pole in front of him. “Heard of second eras, right? I’m practically their leader.”

Oliver eyed him. “But don’t you follow a leader yourself?”

“I do,” he answered, “but I’m his loyalist follower.” 

The boy’s eyes narrowed. “Oh really?”

“Mhm, special too since I don’t even have to touch anyone to kill.” He faced away from Oliver, dashing off to the next crosswalk. 

“Goddamn, wait up,” he stumbled to catch up. “What the hell do you mean by that?”

“Simple,” he examined ahead. “I was given the ability to warp minds and actions from him.”

“You- what?”

“And I use the gift to my advantage, you see,” he stepped onto the streets along with the crowd, babbling with pride. “I just make people kill themselves with it.”

Oliver’s heart stopped; he choked on his words. The chuckling, manic youth in front of him smiled carelessly to his dreading words. 

“You…” Oliver stuttered. “Why haven’t you killed me yet? I could be an easy target.”

His smile broke. “Oh, I’m not allowed to do anything to you. That’s it.”

His nonchalant attitude on the subject reeked Oliver. His entire body tensed at him. “Alice was right. You are ‘disturbed’.” He rushed away from him. 

Vittorino laughed in the distance. He yelled, “Don’t ya wanna talk some more?”

“Nope,” he yelled back. “Fuck off! You’re too fucked for me to deal with right now!” He slabbed his hood over him. An exhale broke out from him as his apartment building loomed ahead over him. 

*

“Oh, Oliver, you back!”

The boy passed through the door and entered to the sight of his mother. His breathing calmed; his steps led back to a peace he’d known all his life. 

“Hey Mom,” he greeted. “How was work today?”

She set aside the work on her lap. “Today was actually kinda relaxing. Carl had a funny story,” she began chatting all the while cleaning up her hair. 

Oliver followed and laughed at the short tales of her patients. Her spirit of rambling livened up the room and the rest of his day. 

He melted away in the couch as his mother heated up leftovers from the night prior; and they babbled for endless minutes with the cozy stove warming up the air. 

His mother noted, “You seem more up than usual, Oliver. What’ve you been up to?”

The boy’s eyes fluttered open by her question. Well, the entire day was a mess really, Mom, he desired to reply. Though, a smidge of warmth tapped on his heart; some small glimmer of hope dawned on him with his black, messy hair and odd eyes. “Not that much has happened, I guess. Just made a new friend recently is all.”

“Oh?” She stifled a giggle. “And what might they be like?”

“Definitely weird,” he admitted. Then again, everyone is now. “But… he’s more preferable than others. At least.”

She hummed, “How have you two been doing then?” She sat back with a plate of chicken. 

“We just kinda hung out since I was a little bored,” half a lie, “I’m planning on seeing him again but… he’s usually busy so I don’t think you’ll see him anytime soon.”

She took a bite of her meal. “And how are you seeing him yourself then.”

“… school.” He answered carefully. “And he texts me… and I go to his apartment building and talk to him through windows.” He smiled at the thought. 

“Oliver!” His mother scolded, “While I appreciate the enthusiasm for a new friend, that still isn’t the most ethical way of seeing him.” 

Oliver rolled his eyes. “Isn’t it also unethical to eat on the couch?”

“There’s eating on the couch, then there’s the invasion of private property.” She treaded along back to the table. “It’s a bit of a difference.” 

Oliver added more to the fib. “Well, at least I get his permission to go there first.”

“Do you get his parents’?”

Of course, “No.”

She scoffed, “Now that isn’t the best excuse, now is it?” 

He grumbled to the fake argument, crossing his arms and sinking into the cushions. “Probably but I’ll most likely still go because he’s cool-” He corrected,” Okay not cool cool but nice to be around.”

She laughed. “I still won’t recommend it. But this is probably the first time in a while that you’ve talked about somebody else; I’m glad.”

He paused then smiled at her sincerity. Snuggling up against a pillow, he mumbled, “I think I am too,” and drifted off to a peaceful slumber in their quiet bond. 

For once, a blade wasn’t needed to ease a pain in his gut. 

-

Ten Dollars | Bread and Water | Red Eye | Crimson Capture | November 1st | A Mother | A Demon | A Child | The Wolf | Next >>>

#writing #my writing #writeblr #writblr #writers on tumblr #black sun tale #bst #chapter 10 #swearing warning #gore warning #blood warning #suicide mentions #yeah murder #cannibalism warning #bst oliver #bst alice #bst vittorino #also oliver's mom lol

[holdyourbreathuntilyouseelight]

The Bodyguard - Chapter 10

Summary: Magnus is a dancing popstar sensation whose popularity continues to climb. Alec, an ex-Secret Service agent, is hired on as a professional bodyguard in charge of Mr. Bane’s personal security by insistence of Magnus’ manager. Despite their initial differences, Magnus finds himself falling for Alec the more time they spend getting to know each other and relies on him for more than physical security as his safety gets threatened. Loosely based on the 1992 film The Bodyguard.

Rating: M

Genre: AU, Everyone is Human AU, Celebrity!Magnus, Bodyguard!Alec, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff, Friendship, Romance, Eventual Smut, Mutual Pining

Author: holdyourbreathuntilyouseelight

A/N: As promised, the final chapter! Just a short epilogue left. Thank you to all who stuck through me the whole way through my snail-pace updates and for any new people who have indulged the story this far! You all are amazing!!

Click here to read on AO3.

Previous chapters on tumblr: Prologue // Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 // Chapter 3 // Chapter 4 // Chapter 5 // Chapter 6 // Chapter 7 // Chapter 8 // Chapter 9

* * * * *

"Magnus! Magnus, over here!"

Magnus merely waved at the eager paparazzi, camera flashes making it seem like there was a strobe light going off. There were people lining the red carpet behind the barriers, photographers desperate for the perfect shot of one of the most popular music stars of the current era.

Alec was glued to Magnus' side, eyes never staying on one area for too long, and his hand never left Magnus' lower back as they wove around interviews and lined up guests.

These events were thankfully heavy on security, but if there was anything Alec had learned lately, it was that he could never be too careful when it came to Magnus' safety.

"Magnus Bane!" the TV host cried when they reached her, and Magnus pulled her into a hug. "Tell me, Magnus, how excited are you for tonight? You are up for three Grammys this evening! That's incredible!"

"Well, I'm not Taylor Swift or Adele, so I hope I at least take home one. But truly, just being here is as much a reward as any. Getting a chance to celebrate so much talent in one evening." Magnus said smoothly, not batting an eye at the camera man stepping in for a closeup.

Alec stayed to the side, itching to get Magnus back in his orbit, and he kept his eyes trained on the crowd and impending guests.

"Well, I know you don't need it, but good luck tonight. Have fun!" the host said, waving at the next celebrity before pressing a quick kiss to Magnus' cheek.

Magnus smiled in return before leading the way down the carpet, Alec immediately gravitating to his side again.

"I know you can't help yourself, but since you are technically my date by default, relationship status notwithstanding, can you at least try to look like you aren't trying to murder everyone with a simple look?" Magnus said to him in an undertone, eyes sparkling with mischief.

Alec rolled his eyes. "I can't relax until I know you're safe, so this is just my face."

"Alexander. I feel perfectly safe with you by my side. Now can you please try to make me look like a half-decent boyfriend?"

Alec chuckled, and Magnus reached up to stroke his cheek affectionately.

"There's that gorgeous smile. I would like more of that, please."

Alec couldn't keep his smile at bay after that, especially with Magnus looking up at him like he was one of the seven wonders of the world.

"You look amazing tonight. You sure you want to imply I'm your date when you'll no doubt have half the audience on their knees begging for a chance with you?"

"Mm I'd much rather have you on your knees."

Alec knew he walked into that one. He continued on, ignoring Magnus' smugness. "I wish I was sitting with you, but it makes more sense to have me near the stage, especially for when you present and when you win."

"If I win."

"When." Alec argued. "Look, I see what you do each day on stage. I see the fans reactions firsthand to your very presence. Your talent is limitless. You are going to win."

"I'm not the only talented person here, Alec. Hence why it is a nomination, not an outright award. And it's an honour—"

"Don't say 'to be nominated'."

"Well it is!" Magnus laughed.

Raphael came down the carpet, Luke in tow, and raised an eyebrow at the pair.

"Do you guys ever stop bickering?" he drawled.

Magnus shrugged.

Raphael looked around, trying to peer over heads but his height not helping. "Great turnout as always. Gotten starstruck yet?"

"Not yet. Don't ask that like you didn't nearly pass out when you saw Tan France at the last award show we attended together."

Alec turned to Luke, tuning out Raphael's protests. "Andrew is already inside. These events have their own high level of security given the prestige of the event, so we don't need a big team. You and I will be backstage and he'll be down in the auditorium but on the sidelines."

Luke nodded.

"Good luck, Magnus. I have a good feeling about your wins tonight—I think you'll be taking home more than one."

"You guys are going to jinx me." Magnus groaned. "But thank you, Lucian. Be safe."

"You too." Alec added pointedly to him before leading Luke away to check in for their backstage access.

Magnus linked an arm with Raphael, who simply rolled his eyes at the star, before the two marched into the auditorium to find their seats.

* * * * *

Once set free backstage, Alec felt his nerves spike again. There were quite a few people milling about—people responsible for lights, sound, directing the MCs and presenters, and every type of service worker needed to pull off an extraordinary event like this.

It made it difficult to keep an eye on everyone, as everyone seemed to be rushing past others and slipping in and out of dressing rooms or manning the tech behind the scenes.

When he tried to look out at the audience to locate Magnus, the bright lights pointed at the stage made it impossible.

"Damn it." he said under his breath. "Underhill, how are we looking?"

"Good. People are still piling in but Magnus seems to know the people behind him and in his row since he's chatting with them like they're old friends."

"Keep me posted if you see absolutely anything suspicious, okay?"

"You got it, boss."

Alec wanted to be comforted by Underhill's words, but he knew that Magnus was like that with everyone, and, frankly, it could go either way—Iris was a prime example of how someone close to him couldn't be trusted—and that meant everyone who was friendly with him was still a suspect.

It was going to be a long night.

* * * * *

The show moved on, with epic performances and awards passed out to tearful or giddy artists.

Alec had been given an itinerary of the awards being given out and saw that Magnus' categories were in the latter half of the event while his presenting was in the first half.

He soon would be pulled from the audience and taken backstage to be touched up and given a rundown of the script, even with the prompter in place. It allowed the presentation to flow more naturally if he had a chance to review it.

Knowing Magnus, he'd probably tweak it to suit his needs, but that was to be expected. Raphael had been right all those months ago when he said Magnus danced to the beat of his own drum.

Alec's phone buzzed against his leg and he slipped it out of his pocket to see a surprising number calling.

Jace (work)

He wanted to hit ignore and go back to people watching, but it may be about Iris or the evidence they processed.

"I have to take this." Alec told Luke. "Keep your eyes peeled."

He held the phone up to his ear. "Hello?"

Jace sounded stressed. "Alec. Sorry to call – I know you have the Grammys tonight. But there's been some new information about Magnus' situation and figured it was best you knew immediately."

"What's going on?"

"I'm going to let someone else explain."

The phone was apparently passed over since there was a shuffle before he could hear someone release a breath into the receiver.

"Alec?"

"…Iris?" Alec asked, unable to hide the surprise in his voice.

Luke glanced at him at the name but returned to scanning the room when Alec gestured at him.

"I know you're not my biggest fan right now but there's something I need to tell you."

"Okay… what is it?"

"I was too upset the other night to say anything. I just wanted Magnus to understand that I hadn't been doing what I was doing to hurt him – only scare him. Scare him into hiding or cancelling the tour but instead he accepted your hiring and then you two became inseparable in every way…"

"Iris. Make your point."

"They asked me here about the small bomb that was placed in his dressing room before you were hired, and I remembered you had asked me that too. But that wasn't me. I never wanted to hurt Magnus. I love him and want him to be with me."

Alec felt goosebumps rise along his arms. He normally wouldn't believe someone so unstable but she had a point. It seems counterproductive to murder the object of your affection when your endgame was to be with them. "Then who did?"

"That's just it. I don't know."

Alec inhaled through his nose, trying to rein in his temper. "So you're calling to tell me someone else means Magnus harm?"

"Well…"

"Iris."

She sighed. "I thought it was a dream, but now it makes sense. I forgot about the bomb. Nothing else physically harmful happened to Magnus so I swore it was just a vivid dream… but now… Look, before the tour started, I was desperate. I relapsed and got really high and drunk because, even though I had 'broken' into the house, left threatening letters and messages and photos, Magnus hadn't even seemed fazed. I didn't know then that Raphael had been hiding everything from him. And Raphael announced he was going to hire Magnus a personal bodyguard so the tour could go on without a hitch. So I was heavily intoxicated at this bar and bitching to some lovely voiced stranger and went on and on about how I wished someone would do what I threatened to do in those letters and then maybe Magnus would finally see sense… and the guy said he could do it. And I… I just handed over all the cash I had and told him to do whatever he had to."

"You hired a hit-man? An actual hit-man?" Alec said, feeling like the floor beneath him was shifting. How was this real? Could Iris even be trusted?

"I wanted to call it off as soon as I heard a bomb went off in his dressing room at one of the last concert venues before the tour took off. I couldn't believe it. I knew then it wasn't just some drunken fantasy and had actually happened. But I never got the man's name. I don't even know what he looked like. I have no way to track him down, Alec. I'm sorry."

Alec was glad he was in public or else he would've had to break something. "You're sorry? You hire someone to kill Magnus, you pay them to end his life, with the excuse of substance abuse, and you're sorry? You have no way of me tracking this person down, no idea when they might strike, and you want, what, my forgiveness?"

"No. I know I'll never deserve that. But I needed you to know so you can keep him safe. I don't know when he'll strike but if he's as good as he said he is, Magnus won't stand a chance."

"I'll make sure he does." Alec snarled into the phone, ending the call before he said something horrible to the very troubled woman on the other end of the line.

Luke made his way over, no doubt seeing the fire in his eyes from all the way across the room.

"Everything okay?"

Alec exhaled. "Far from it. We're not out of the woods yet."

* * * * *

Magnus was ushered backstage and he nearly tripped in his haste. He probably should've been looking at the floor more, what with all the cameras and wires around, but he was too eager to find Alec who he knew would be waiting for him.

Sure enough, once Magnus was nudged in the right direction, a strong arm pulled him aside and he found himself near-stumbling into his bodyguard.

"Well hello to you too." he teased, leaning up to kiss him now that they were behind a barrier. He hadn't been able to concentrate on the event like he had hoped, knowing that Alec was back there likely burning a hole in the floor with his pacing.

He was grateful that Alec took his job so seriously, but he also didn't like seeing the stress weigh down his boyfriend the way it did.

Instead of returning the kiss, Alec pulled back and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Magnus, we need to talk."

"Worst four words strung together in the English language." Magnus said, hoping for Alec to interject that it was nothing to worry about, but he got a good look at his eyes then and could see the pain there. "Alexander, what is it?"

Alec proceeded to explain the phone call he had received, who had been on the other end and what she had said, from the bomb to the anonymous hiring.

Magnus simply stood dumbfounded. "So we caught my stalker, the one sending all the threatening letters and photo collages… and that's not the same person as the one who nearly blew me up? There's still someone out there who is planning to kill me and we have absolutely no idea who they might be or how to track them down?"

Alec nodded, watching him carefully, rubbing a hand over his shoulder soothingly.

"I know it's a lot to take in. As unbelievably furious as I am, it is better we know so we can make sure you stay safe."

Magnus nodded numbly, swallowing and staring distantly at a spot on the wall.

Alec lowered himself slightly so he was at eye level with Magnus. "Listen. I am not going to let anything happen to you. I am good at what I do. We've gotten this far, right?"

"Magnus Bane? Has anyone seen Magnus Bane?!" a voice was shouting from the other side of the room.

"I need to go get touched up." Magnus said robotically, and he walked away like he was on autopilot to the makeup chair.

Alec watched him go, heart aching at the heaviness that had settled on his shoulders. Maybe he shouldn't have told him. Should've waited until after the awards show. But he wanted Magnus to be on the alert, to not think that because Iris was in custody, the risk to his safety was back to being minimal.

Touch-ups didn't take long and then Magnus was linking arms with his co-presenter, all smiles and laid-back energy.

Alec watched from the sidelines, directing Luke to the other side of the stage.

"There is so much talent showcased in this room tonight, and I'm not just talking about the make-up artists and fashion designers who manage to make us all look amazing." Magnus was saying with his usual flourish, the crowd tittering as expected. "Sometimes it is a single person that manages to light up the stage, and other times, it is a group of people who have come together to make something bigger."

"That's right." Magnus' presenting partner said, a beautiful brunette woman Alec couldn't name but had definitely seen before. "The following category features a wide range of talented and standout groups. The nominees for Best Pop Duo/Group are…"

She read them out to the crowd, applause following each group name.

"And the winner is…"

Before she could say it, Magnus suddenly froze before quietly rushing off the stage without a word.

The woman faltered slightly, eyes following him briefly before plastering on a smile and reading the card from the envelope.

The applause grew and then there was a group of young men taking turns thanking people on stage.

Alec moved to make his way to Magnus, slipping between bodies to get there as fast as he could.

"Why… why did you have to tell me all of this? Right before I go on? Now I see someone get up to go to the bathroom and I feel like I need to throw myself at the ground to avoid a bullet. I just humiliated myself in front of thousands of people all because you were too impatient to wait the extra hour when the show is over!" Magnus shouted at him.

Alec was slightly taken aback by the outburst, having been on the receiving end of Magnus' heated temper before but not usually to this extent.

He knew he had a point. Magnus wasn't anymore in danger now than he would be an hour from now – being oblivious to it would've been the kinder thing to do. After all, the hitman had been hired months before and had yet to strike – there was no guarantee he or she would strike tonight.

"Magnus, I'm sorry. It felt wrong keeping it from you. You're right—I should've respected how important tonight was and thought it through more. I'm just afraid."

"You're afraid?" Magnus asked incredulously, looking at him with such shock Alec nearly laughed.

"Yes, I am. I'm terrified of you getting hurt. Of this event being where he decides to strike. I… You have to know how much I care about you." Alec admitted quietly.

Magnus stepped into his space, looping his arms around his waist and smiling softly at him. "I care about you too. I'm sorry for snapping at you. I'm really just angry at myself. For ignoring the signs for so long with Iris. For angering her enough to get us to this point."

"Well, it hasn't been all bad." Alec reminded him, stroking a hand along Magnus' waist.

"You have been a good consolation prize." Magnus noted, and he laughed when Alec's face screwed up in annoyance. "I'm kidding, darling. You're very much the top prize."

"Mm a Grammy would be nice too though." Alec reminded him after giving him a quick peck on the lips. "Speaking of, you should return to Raphael before he sends out a search party or sends me extremely well punctuated texts that show he means business."

"Raphael is harmless. But I would like to see how the night's awards go."

Alec smiled. "Go. I promise I will do everything in my power to keep you safe."

"Fine. But I expect some very celebratory sex later if I win. And if I lose, sex to make me feel better."

Alec rolled his eyes but nodded. Magnus gave him another swift kiss on the cheek this time and headed off to return to his seat.

* * * * *

With Magnus' presenting out of the way, Alec felt a little calmer. With the itinerary laid out well in advance for what order the awards were presented, it made more sense for someone to attack when he was scheduled on stage versus waiting for him to potential win one of the three categories he was nominated for.

Still, Alec wasn't one to get lax with his professionalism. He still kept a close eye on every moving body and checked in with the two on his team to ensure they were doing the same.

He let his eyes rove over the crowd, catching sight of Magnus speaking quietly to Raphael as they applauded the current receiver of the award.

Alec knew Magnus was scared, maybe even more scared than Alec, but he hoped he had nothing to worry about. It had been months since the hit-man was hired – for all they knew, he had given up after his failed bomb attempt. It's not as though it was a contractually sound hiring. He had already been paid.

"You can't have that back here. It's interfering with the mic." a man with a headset of his own said, interrupting his thoughts, and Alec had to work to keep his face from scowling at him.

"I've been using it all night and it hasn't been an issue. It's my contact with my security team. My client is at risk in an event as open as this—"

Before he could finish, the guy interrupted. "I'm sure that's true but I've been given explicit orders. It's either give up your communication device or leave the event. Your choice."

Alec grumbled under his breath while he passed over the electronic device and nodded when Luke sent him a questioning look to silently ask if he should do the same.

Not having the wire in his ear made him feel exposed and on edge, but he had a job to do and would do so with or without the help of technology.

He shot a text to Underhill to let him know that they had been cut off and that they'd have to stay that much more alert to their surroundings.

Someone nudged past him, nearly causing him to trip over a collection of wires across the floor, and Alec remembered why being backstage was the worst location to have to hover.

A hand on his arm steadied him and he turned to the person to thank them, but it got lost on the way out of his mouth.

"Sebastian?"

The blond man smiled broadly at the sight of him. "Alec! I never expected to see you here. I didn't realize you were in the Hollywood scene."

Alec grimaced. "It's not really by choice; I work personal security. I go where he goes. What are you doing here?"

"Ah. I'm a photo journalist. This many celebrities in one place? It's like Christmas for us." he explained, gesturing to the large camera kit in his hand. "I should get to it, but lovely to see you, Alec."

"You too." Alec said automatically, eyes drawn to the duffel-like bag in his hand. It seemed to be quite a bulky piece of equipment. He knew many cameras could be large or have a lot of different lens and such, but the new technological age tended to provide much more compact options.

He didn't know why he felt that familiar unease climbing his spine. Maybe it was his suspicious nature but he suddenly was seeing something sly in the smile Sebastian flashed him before slipping away to go down to the sidelines of the auditorium.

Alec watched Underhill across the room from him and moved to say something into his mouthpiece, only to remember that it wasn't there.

He crossed the room to speak to Luke.

"I need you to keep close to that British man. Something about him… I don't know. I don't like it. And he's been somewhere Magnus and I have been before. I'm hoping it's just coincidental but I'm not taking any chances."

Luke nodded and left backstage to move closer.

"And the Grammy for Best Dance/Electronic Album is… Magnus Bane, for Shadow World!"

Alec couldn't help the proud beam that graced his face when the words sunk in. He couldn't wait to say 'I told you so' to Magnus.

Speaking of Magnus, he was absolutely glowing as the auditorium filled with cheers and applause and he hugged many people before jogging up to the stage.

Alec couldn't take his eyes off of him. He had never seen him so happy.

But then something caught his eye on Magnus' grey and white suit. A pinpoint red light dancing over his chest as he shook hands with both presenters and accepted the gramophone-shaped trophy.

Alec scanned the room desperately for where the light was originating from and his eyes landed on Sebastian.

It was him. He had his large camera hoisted up on his shoulder, but Alec could see now that it was simply a sniper rifle disguised in the shape of a bulky camera. It was how he would've gotten it in the door. Unless they took apart his camera, they'd never have known it to house a weapon.

Alec frantically looked for Luke and Andrew but they were simply clapping along with everyone else, eyes scanning the crowd but clearly missing the imminent threat.

Magnus raised the award above his head before he reached the podium, setting off another round of applause, and Alec watched in horror as the laser stayed still on his chest above his heart.

He'd never get to Sebastian in time. He was too far away. He'd be stupidly lucky if he could signal to either Luke or Andrew in all the excitement and communicate enough to have them apprehend Sebastian before he pulled the trigger.

Alec was running before he could think, his mind focused solely on blocking Magnus from the fatal blow, and he pulled his gun from his thigh holster as he raced onto the stage.

He heard the shot more than felt it, the subsequent quiet before terrified screams broke out made the whole experience that much more disorienting.

He had hit Magnus with the full force of his body, knocking him to the stage floor and causing the trophy to topple across the linoleum.

The pain hit him after the force of his fall jarred his alertness and he raised his gun with difficulty to point it at the assassin.

White-hot fire spread from his shoulder like a firework, and he knew there was a bullet lodged in his collarbone if his agony could be relied on.

The audience was racing for the exits, screams and cries exploding from every row as people scrambled in their gowns and best suits to leave the building.

Alec aimed at Sebastian and let his gun fire a couple shots, managing to hit Sebastian's hand and rifle to splinter it into pieces.

He went down and Alec was grateful to see Luke pushing through the crowd to get to the shooter, likely to tackle him into submission.

But Sebastian pulled out a handgun with his other hand from his suit pocket and aimed it towards Luke.

Alec didn't hold back from releasing a bullet that nestled between his eyebrows and knocked his lifeless body to the floor.

Knowing they were finally safe, Alec let his arm sag and he collapsed against the floor.

"Alec? Alec!" Magnus was suddenly beside him, having been knocked over and apart from him by a few feet.

"Magnus! Are you okay? You're bleeding! Where were you shot?!" Raphael was saying, having finally made his way up on the stage to crouch next to his long-time friend.

Magnus patted his hands against his chest, seeing the blotches of blood everywhere. His eyes widened as he saw the way Alec's eyelids were too heavy for him to keep open.

"It's not me! Alec? Alexander, please, look at me. What in the hell were you thinking? You threw yourself in front of a bullet for me?!"

Alec rolled onto his back with Magnus' help and Luke was next to them, Andrew in tow, and Luke bent down to put pressure on Alec's bleeding shoulder.

"Told you… I'd do anything… to keep you safe…"

Magnus had tears streaming down his face now as his hands flitted uselessly over him.

Alec felt himself growing weaker, knowing it was the blood loss, and it was hard to keep his eyes open let alone reassure Magnus he was fine. He knew he wasn't fine. He was starting to feel cold climbing up his extremities.

"Alec… Alec! Alexander, don't you fucking dare die on me, do you hear me?! Don't you dare!"

Alec chuckled weakly. "You know me, Magnus. Never been one to listen to you."

Magnus half-laughed, sobbing more than anything. "Please, Alec. Don't leave me like this. Stay with me."

Alec's eyelids grew too heavy and he let them win the battle, head lolling against the tiled floor.

"Alec, please. I love you! Do you hear me? I love you! Don't leave me! Stay with me!"

Alec wanted to promise him he'd never leave willingly, to return the sentiment, but the unconsciousness was pulling him under.

Before he could form the words, everything went black.

* * * * *

Continue to Epilogue

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