#you guys have a fire in your souls that i wish to see blaze further

[traitorca]

My Iron Lung - The Walking Dead

Daryl Dixon x Grimes!Reader - 4

Masterlist

The past few days had gone by rather slowly. After your ‘outburst’, as Shane liked to call it, you had yet to speak to him face to face. He was an ass, sure, and you said something you shouldn’t have, but at the end of the day you were sick of how he treated you.

On a brighter note, the newer additions to your camp had made a prominent impression.

Merle, who was advised to stay the fuck away from Andrea, seemed to ignore that and challenge it instead.

Daryl, however, no one had successfully cracked, nor really tried.

Dale, bless his soul, made it a point to converse with all of your allies in camp. You’re sure you heard Daryl call him “Old Man” before, but, to your surprise it didn’t sound much like an insult.

That led you to now, as you awkwardly sat beside him in silence. You hadn’t talked since he came here, besides a small ‘hi’, ‘thank you’, or ‘goodnight’ whenever you happened to see eachother.

He was skinning a rabbit, knife slicing through its skin with ease, obvious that he had years of experience.

You, on the other hand, were monitoring the stew above the fire. You were sure even without the blaze beneath it, the Georgia heat was enough to cook it right off the bone.

“So. Have you always been good at that?”

You decided at that moment, you’d be the first to befriend Daryl.

He grunted, almost like he was asking you to further elaborate your question.

“Skinning animals- hunting, all that stuff.” You clarified, leaning with your chin in the palm of your hand.

“Guess so.” He didn’t seem like much of a talker.

You laughed to yourself, muttering something under your breath.

“Wha’ was that?” He looked at you, eyes narrowing slightly.

“Oh, nothing- just said, ‘people like you must have a field day with this kind of stuff’, but then I realized- I don’t think anyone could find this.. shit… fun.”

He scoffed, eyes rolling as he went to look back at the rabbit in his hands.

“…You’re much nicer than Merle lets on.” You suddenly spoke again, not finding any comfort in the silence.

“What’s tha’ supposed to mean?” He paused again, sounding more irritated than the last time.

“Oh, don’t take offense.” You raised your hands in defense. “I meant it in a nice way.”

“Well I ain’t nice, let’s get that righ’. I don’t need no fixin’ either.” He responded, throwing you a harsh look.

“Didn't say all that.” You smiled in response, realizing his rough exterior might just be a defensive mechanism.

It seemed like half an hour until conversation started again, sweat dripping down your temple as the sun got higher into the sky. This time, it wasn’t you who spoke first.

“…..Yer’ brother.” Daryl started. “…you two close?”

“…We….” You started, but stopped as quickly as it came to you. “…Rick was..”

Was? That felt odd to say out loud.

“He’s my older brother… he’s really important to me.” You smiled, fondly at the thought of him.

“…Hm. That other guy. The.. prick. He your boyfriend or somethin?” He must be talking about Shane.

“NO- no! Shane?! Fuck no-“ you giggled, a genuine laugh rising from your throat. “Fuckin’ gross. He’s more like an annoying older brother. He wished I gave him the time of day, but- narcissistic, sexist assholes aren’t my type.”

“I’ll make sure Merle gets that message.” He (almost) laughed at that, his lips perking up at the sides.

“I really appreciate that. That would be nice-“

And with that, the moment was cut short as your name was called across the camp. You gave Daryl a small smile before lifting yourself from your spot, sighing as you were bound to be face to face with the voice's owner.

Shane.

He called your name again, this time, walking towards you from camp.

“I’m coming!” You replied. “Jeez, I’m comin, I’m going..” You stopped in front of him, face to face. You were close enough that you could see the beads of sweat dripping from his forehead.

“What.” You gritted out of your teeth, eyes focused on his own.

“I think we need to talk.”

“…go for it.” You crossed your arms, eyes narrowing slightly. “I’m listening.”

“We. As in the both of us need to talk. A team effort.” He strained his voice on the word ‘team’. Shane was attempting to be sincere.

“Oh, so there’s a ‘we’ now? Where was the ‘team effort’ when you were making decisions for us all?” You pressed, voice rising an octave as you leaned with your hip, hand resting on it.

“You’re right-“ He sighed, hands raising in submission.

“Yeah, and that’s not even-“ you paused. You were right..?

“Oh.”

“I shouldn’t have let myself take control of everything, but you’ve got to understand where I was coming from. Where I AM coming from.” Shane replied to your perplexed response.

“….Go on.” You dropped your arm, straightening up.

“…I am doing everything I can to stay strong for you, Lori, and Carl- I know you’ve always been able to take care of yourself, but even a strong person can’t make it on their own.” He sighed, breath shaky. “I would know.”

“…Shane-“ You didn’t mean for him to get sentimental with you, but you could feel your soft spot fall weak to his words.

“Let me finish.” He cut you off. “I… You don’t know what I saw in there- I miss Rick too. He was like my brother. He WAS my brother- he meant everything to me. You mean everything to me. Lori, Carl, You-“ He placed his hands on your shoulders. “Rick would kill me if I didn’t prioritize you three first, above all else. If that means being the bad guy- I’d gladly do it, even if the consequence is pissin’ you off..” he laughed at that, smiling as your expression mirrored his own. “You made a good call. With the Hunter and his… questionable brother.” Merle. “We haven’t had to stress over food as much. I’m proud of you.”

For some reason, your chest felt warm. He was proud of you. He really was like a brother, even if he could never amount to Rick- you were glad he was there.

With that, you hugged him- a small laugh erupting from your throat as you felt tears pricking at your eyes. “You’re such an asshole-“

“Yeah, yeah- I know-“ His arms cradled you, chin resting on your head.

“…I really am sorry for what I said… about Rick.”

“Hm, no, it was deserved.”

“..Yeah, but that doesn’t make it right.”

“Rick would’ve said the same thing.”

“….Yeah.” You smiled.

You didn’t think much of that conversation with Shane afterwards, regarding it as water under the bridge. Funny, considering most bridges burn down.

With that being said, the two of you separated and departed from each other, you taking this moment to go back to sitting next to Daryl by the fire.

“I’m back.” You hummed, taking your spot on the chair beside his own. “What did I miss?” Absolutely nothing.

He rolled his eyes at your sarcasm, scoffing lightly as he cleaned his knife. He had finished skinning the rabbit, the meat brewing in the pot.

“Nothing, I guess. That’s alright.” You concluded, looking off towards the woods in your boredom. “Hey, random request, but I wanna go with you next time you go out. On a trip.”

“Ya can ‘wanna’ all you want, but the hell ya’ ain’t.” He responded fast, his movement around the knife staggering.

“Why not? I’m pretty sure I could help or- atleast learn a few things. I wanna know how to track.”

“sonabitch’” He muttered to himself, setting the knife aside. “I don’ need ya’ chasin away the game, yer’ the one who’s makin’ me feed everyone.”

“Well- it doesn’t have to be just you. That’s why I wanna learn.”

“I said no, bitch- final answer.”

“…Hm, I’ll ask later.” You smiled, standing up. “I’m gonna go find Carl, holler if ya need me.” With that, you left, unaware of the fact that the Hunter was indeed thinking about your proposal.

Unfortunately due to your inability to take no for an answer, you were exactly someone Daryl would typically avoid.

Key word, typically.

taglist:🏷️: @poubxlle @kovieky @fallenkitten @dixonsboy19 @gamingfeline

a short chapter today!! filler, filler, and more filler ig

#the walking dead #daryl dixon x reader #the walking dead x reader #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x grimes reader #daryl dixon x you #grimes reader #my iron lung #lori grimes #rick grimes

[solactier]

authors who have the determination to write a self-insert fic just to beat up a certain character and completely throttle their smug selves 12ft into the ground have my upmost respect

all while keeping a consistent serving of elaborative wording too, the sheer amount of willpower you have, amazing

#writing #fanfiction #author #you guys have a fire in your souls that i wish to see blaze further #please tell me how much youd like to deck this sly bastard using the most formal words #that is actually so sexy #i wish you guys good days #descriptive #writing shitpost

[sleepylixie]

Never gone, my love

Demon-Hunter!Changbin x Demon-Queen!reader  (Fits the Halloween moodies, me thinks)

2.8k words, Fantasy Angst Oneshot.

Warnings: Strong Language, gore, blackmail, murder by decapitation, a healthy dose of violence overall. An obsessive romance? 

A/N: HELLO! Tis me! Before anything, the inspiration for this fic comes entirely from the amazing fic (My love is Come to me) written by @silverlightqueen​- Oof, what a queen! Reading that piece had me lowkey mind blown and itching to give it a spin myself and so, Never gone, my love was born. Guys, no joke, I enjoyed writing this fic so insanely much. I’ve been missing from Tumblr for the sole reason of not having the inspiration or the guts to write and post anything anymore. Recently, I’ve been learning and making changes to that attitude of mine, so HERE WE ARE! I’m here to bug everybody with my fics and writing again!!

ONTO THE FIC!!! Hope y’all like this!

What is a queen without a king? Unhinged. 

What is a queen with her king? Unleashed.

The silver rings on my fingers glinted wickedly, winks of light reflecting off them from the hellfire blazing outside. Being queen was no mean feat, even if the queen in question was of part- noble blood to start with. Not everybody was happy with Satan’s oldest heir being a daughter- if anything, they expected me to take to my mother’s path and become a low-rung sex fiend, running errands day-to-day, begging for a good fuck. Imagine their horror when I turned out to be my father’s daughter instead, the woman that is begged for. Holding power came to me as naturally as playing the seductress and it was only a matter of centuries before my father and his court relented, finally giving me an ascendancy to my own realm of Hell.

If power is currency, I am a feral tycoon, trading in smiles, sex and savagery. I played the game I wasn’t expected to play and here I sit, on the Fifth circle’s throne, dripping in authority and gemstones.

No, I’m not the type to dress so frivolously every day. It was the coming of All Hallow’s Eve and my subjects were all too happy to enjoy the lines thinning between our world and the mortals’. The air was electric, alive with the sounds of fear, lust, anger…. Sin. It was a symphony to my immortal ears. While my people revelled in their festivities outside my castle, I had my own celebrations well underway.

“I know you’re outside, my love!” I called out, elongated canines flashing against the smirk on my blood-hued lips. “Why don’t you join in the festivities,” I grinned wider, “it’s all for you anyway.”

If I had breath in my lungs, it would have been knocked out of me by the man who stepped into my throne room. Jet black hair, sharp chin and sharp eyes narrowed as he took a step, and another into the chamber. He was dressed like any other of his stature would be- comfortable fighter’s clothing over his muscled physique, harness over his shoulders, thighs and waist with weaponry all over his frame and disdain on his face.

“What is it going to take for you to leave me alone, Y/N.” Seo Changbin wasn’t the type to mince words and oh, how I loved that about him. I let my smile grow further into a snarl, baring teeth. “You know the answer to that too well, my love.” I cooed, allowing myself a flash of satisfaction at the way his jaw gritted in annoyance.

My demon hunter love. Oh, what has that curse done to you.

“Cut the bullshit, Y/N.” His eyes bore hateful holes into my own as he looked me up and down, wrinkling his nose at the sight of my royal regalia. “You know that’s never going to happen. When are you going to stop with your infernal games?”

I clicked my tongue, standing and walking down my throne’s podium, jet black smoke and orange sparks trailing behind my dress.

“You loved these infernal games more than I did, darling. When will you stop depriving yourself of what’s truly yours?” My stilettos clicked against the black marble floor as I made my way closer to where Changbin stood, ramrod straight in front of the double doors. “When hell freezes over.” He snarled back, watching my every movement.

I knew how I looked to him, a vision in debauchery, a shining beacon of temptation dipped in black corseted silk and silvery green gemstones. It is exactly what he hated about me- what he was cursed to hate about me. “I’m sure I can arrange that fairly easily if that’s what you wish, my love.”

My cold, beautiful love. Oh, what has that curse done to you.

He was the strongest, cruelest son of a Hell’s prince, smitten by my power and I, by his strength. We were inseparable, indomitable, bonded by mischief big and small until he was taken away from me.

He sucked in a breath, momentarily thrown off-guard before regaining his bearings. “You’re not strong enough for that, sweetheart,” he spat out the endearment like a curse. “You’d have done that a long time ago if you could.”

I looked him in the eye, unfazed by his argument. My heavily braceleted hand rose, palm first, wreathed in a ball of hellfire. Fire that blazed so hot, it was almost white. I let it burn bright between the both of us, illuminating the previously shadowed chamber around us.

There was an almost disappointed- no, frustrated look in Changbin’s eyes as he took in the utter carnage around him. Body after mortal body lay on the floor of my throne room, all limp, pale and unmoving.

“You- They said it was one dead body!” Changbin spluttered, his angry expression giving way to horror as he took in his vicinity. “This is just the beginning of what I can do. What you could do. You reveled in this debauchery as much as I did, darling.” I responded nonchalantly, allowing the hellfire to light up the chandeliers above us. “I’m sure you remember that one All Hallow’s Eve when we went on a rampage like this.”

“There is nothing fun about MURDERING INNOCENT HUMANS.” Changbin exclaimed and I shrugged, delighted at finally getting a rise out of him. “But you don’t know them. You don’t care about them. What does it matter to you? They’re just more souls for my people to feed on.”

“This is basic human empathy, Y/N!” He snarled at me and oh. There it was. The otherworldly strength that even the curse couldn’t take away from him. It set my nerves aflame, my body singing in it’s presence, it’s familiarity. “There is nothing more abhorrent than the way you keep killing and killing like these people don’t matter.” His voice rose in volume, raspy in it’s pitch. “What will it take for you to understand that I am not. YOURS. There is nothing under this godforsaken world that will let your devilish hands take over me, or the mortals on Earth-”

“What do you care about Mortals?” I screamed back, the fire in my nerves sparking into a wildfire at his words. “You’re NOT MORTAL.YOU’RE LIKE ME. YOU’RE MINE.YOU LIE TO YOURSELF. ”

Silence stretched between us as he stared at me again, stunned by my outburst. But then again, this isn’t something he hasn’t heard before.

The race of demon hunters is an abomination come to life. That coming from a demon princess is the highest order of abhorrence. Even more so because.. My love is the first, and worst of them.

The elders in the first mortal civilization felt the need to find a way for them to bring demons from the thralls of temptation and make them immune to the point where they can slay their kin to protect humankind. I was there. Trapped and in pain because of my childhood innocence , forced to watch as those infernal mites plunged my love into the light that turned him away from me, since time immemorial until now. Forced to watch as he rose from the flames, eyes alight with hatred as he plunged my father’s dagger into my chest.

“Admit it, my love,” I purred, stepping closer to him, leaning closer to his ear. “You miss being mine, as I missed being yours. You missed sitting on that throne, as King. Some part of you misses this.” I turned around and threw my arms out, encompassing the massacre in front of us.

I let out a velvet laugh as I made my way back to my throne. “This was all yours, until you walked away.” Taking my seat, I looked down at where Changbin stood, having moved from the doors to the middle of the room. “All I ask is for you to return to where you belong.”

“Maybe if you die for more than a few hours after I kill you, I’ll consider it.” Changbin snarled at me, looking for all the otherworld like a king without a crown.

I forgot what loss, pain and heartbreak felt like after that day, all those millennia ago. That is, until I found him in my chambers again, bristling with human weaponry and the need to kill me thrumming through his veins. So began our cat-and-mouse game, him wanting to sever his last connection to the Otherworld and me, savoring the sheer frustration I left him. You see, I forgot loss, pain, heartbreak- but I didn’t forget possession. He was mine, for glorious centuries, until he was taken away from me. I vowed to bring my Changbin back again and Satan’s daughter never goes back on her words.

“Or what if hell freezes over?” My pleasant question stopped Changbin short, head cocking to the side in slight confusion. “You see, darling, I might be Satan’s daughter, but I made my way here from the bottom.” I picked at my fingernails, looking like I didn't have a care in the world- which, of course, I didn’t. “ After you left, I gave and took many more favors to get to this fine evening. They call me Hell’s Whore, for all the things I was willing to do that even low-grade scum wouldn’t. You see, the darkness owes me a favor,” The color draining from his face stoked at the ice-cold fire burning in my mind. “And the darkness never fails to deliver.”

“What did you do,” Changbin breathed, his hands going, almost unconsciously, to the knives sheathed at his thighs. I smiled my sweet sinner smile at him, crossing one leg over the other as I leaned back on my throne. “Oh, nothing. Just asked for hell to freeze over Earth on All Hallow’s Eve night if you don’t agree to turn back.”

The curse was very simple. The only way my love would ever come back to me was if he chose to make the Turn himself. It was a clever ploy, because immunity to temptation was rooted into every demon hunter’s veins from the moment they are created. Luckily for me, I wasn’t beyond playing dirty.

“What the fuck?” Changbin exclaimed in rage, his feet carrying him of his own volition up the steps to stand over me in front of my throne. I continued smiling at him, not a hint of remorse on my face as I looked up at him. “You have a few minutes to decide, my love.” I purred, not breaking eye contact. It was that split second of uncertainty that flashed through his face, which urged me to move, pushing him down onto the twin throne that sat beside mine, empty for centuries without it’s true owner.

“And I’d suggest you make yourself comfortable.” I whispered, my lips mere inches from his face. The glare he levelled at me was one for the books, raging wild fury and utter desperation all wound into one.

“Stay where you are, darling, or I’ll butcher these precious mortal bodies one by one.” I grinned as I straightened up, sauntering back down the stairs to nudge my foot against one of the bodies closest to the throne. “I’ll have you know that none of these mortals are dead,” I giggled. “Only unconscious from the fear of the Otherworld. Delicate creatures, these mortals. It’s a wonder why you want to be associated with these weaklings.” A growl ripped out of Changbin’s throat as I stifled another laugh.

“How do I know you’re not bluffing? About the darkness?” Changbin shouted behind me, still rooted to his spot on the podium. I didn’t respond, only humming softly as I picked my way through the many bodies, looking for all the world like I was frolicking in Eden’s Garden. The singing of a blade flying through the air brought me out of my fake reverie, spinning and catching it by the handle just before it pierced my skin.

“Tch. You really didn’t think I’d make it this easy for you to kill me.” You wagged the knife point first at Changbin, who was still on the podium- what a sight he made. He was made for the throne, but his entire form bristled like he was seated on hot coals instead of opulence. “You don’t know if I’m bluffing until Hell actually freezes over, my love.” I responded, just loud enough for him to hear. I pulled up one of the limp bodies I stood amongst, a young girl who barely looked 16.

Changbin’s knife twirled in my fingers as I gripped the handle, moving the blade almost sensuously over the skin of her throat. “Maybe the massacre should start with her.”

It was a soft prick of pleasure that slid through my veins at the look of panic that danced across Changbin’s eyes. “You wouldn’t dare.” He growled. I did nothing but stare him in the eye, allowing the point of his knife to dip slightly into the child’s neck. Drops of ruby blood blossomed at the wound and the scent. Oh, the scent of human blood. What a magnificent feast.

“You have 3 seconds left, my love.” “What-” “Three,” “What the-” “Two,” “No, wait-” “One-”

“OKAY. FINE. FINE. STOP.”

“What was that, darling?” I cocked my head, pretending like I hadn’t heard him. “I’ll do it.” He sighed in defeat.

Oh. “Do it then,” I urged him, still having the knife pointed edge down into my young victim’s throat.

“You’re a fucking menace, Y/N .”Were the last words I heard before his eyes closed and his body slumped back into the throne, his face deliciously blank.

Did he Turn? The stabs of curiosity danced across my spine as the moments of silence stretched ahead, one, two, ten. And then he stirred. First he sat up, cracking his neck from the awkward position he’d fallen back in. His hand brushed back his hair and then, he opened his eyes. Bright red eyes, twin to my own.

I stared at him in barely veiled disbelief and he stared back, the glow in his eyes fading from neon to ruby. Then he smiled, and I knew. There was only one person in the Otherworld who had that smile of ice and terror. I couldn’t help but throw him a grin of my own, canines bared in an amused snarl of unholy victory. Like he was never gone, my love.

The knife twisted in my hands and went clean through the mortal girl’s throat, twisting away as her head fell off of her body in a shower of blood. But I couldn’t care less about the bloody mess on my arms, shoulders and cheek because I was walking my way back to the twin thrones. Changbin watched my every movement with a predator’s gaze, leaning back onto the throne-his throne, with a sense of stone-cold authority as his ringed fingers tapped the velvet on the arms of the chair. He was made for the throne, my love.

Soon, I stood in front of him, a snap of my fingers bringing forth the cold-iron and obsidian crown that was a male contrast to the feminine tiara that rested on my brow. “My King, my love.” I whispered, setting the crown atop his head. He was meant for a crown, my love.

“My Queen, my love.” Changbin’s smirk sent a jolt of wicked familiarity through my body, a thing of fiendish beauty. He took one of my hands into his own, raising it to press a gentle kiss onto my knuckles, the red eyes never leaving my own. When he tugged at my hand, it was with a sense of belonging that I allowed my body to fall onto his lap, uncaring of anything and anybody else. He nuzzled his nose into my neck, tongue darting out to taste the splatter of mortal blood that had found its way onto my skin. A low groan fought its way out of his mouth at the taste. He was never the type to hold back, my love.

“Oh, how I have missed the taste of human blood.” He rasped against my ear, a shiver making it’s way down my back at the proximity I’d missed so much. “Almost more than I felt the lack of you.” I hummed, placing kisses from his cheekbone to his ear. “Not as much as I missed you, I wager.” I murmured against his skin, nipping softly at his ear. His grip on my waist tightened as I pulled back, smirks mirroring each other. “What would you have me do to prove you wrong, my Queen?” Changbin’s expression was nothing short of vicious excitement as he matched me stare for stare. He was always a fierce one, my love.

“Rule over Earth with me.” His eyebrows raised, almost imperceptibly. “So you’re truly Hell’s Whore?”  I chuckled, capturing his lips with mine for a brief yet passionate kiss. “No, my love. Darkness is mine.”

Changbin laughed, the deep sound ricocheting off the hollow space in me that he had left empty for the past centuries. “For you, my Queen, my Love….gladly.”

It was like he was never gone, my love.

#skz #stray kids #seo changbin #changbin #changbin fanfiction #writer #fanfiction #kpop smut #skz imagines #stray kids au #stray kids imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop #seo changbin au #seo changbin angst #seo changbin fluff #kpop angst #kpop fluff #skz fluff #skz fantasy au #skz jisung #3racha #3racha fic #3racha angst #stray kids changbin #EllaSKZ

[justanother-unluckysoul]

Working My Way Back To You 9/11

Killian gets captured. When Emma finally rescues him, he’s traumatized and nearly broken from the torture he endured. Angst and h/c galore as Emma helps him through it.

I tried to go easy on the whumpy side of it since it’s supposed to be for Comfortember, but it’s me so I probably failed lol

A/N: Oof this chapter got away from me a bit lol I strayed back into whumpy territory a little in this one, as Killian talks about some of his trauma, but he does get comfort in the present time.

Warnings for this chapter: a bit of smut (I probably don’t have to warn for that since this story is already M rated but it’s there, so) (also it’s my very first attempt at smut and I’ve rewritten that scene only like a bazillion times haha but I’m still so nervous to post it, I just hope you guys don’t hate it)

Unbetad as always so mistakes are all mine.

Tagging @cocohook38 as requested.

Read this chapter on AO3

Working My Way Back To You

Road Trip + Campfire

It had been Archie’s idea for Emma and Killian to get away for a while. Go down the coast, he’d said, find yourself. Reconnect with each other. Killian didn’t know how camping was supposed to help with any of that. But Emma had seemed excited about the prospect when he’d mentioned it to her, and he never could deny her wishes so here they were, sitting on a log in a forest in the middle of nowhere, where Killian could hear the ocean but not see it through the trees. The campfire crackles and pops and the heat against his front is a sharp contrast to the chill at his back, and perhaps they hadn’t thought this through very well because even through his layers Killian can still feel the cold now that the sun has gone down. Although it has been unseasonably warm lately, the night air still carries quite a bite. Emma’s tucked into his right side, a blanket around her shoulders. She seems happy despite the cold, her stomach full of the fish they’d caught from the sea earlier that day, and the ‘marshmallows’ she’d insisted on bringing along – yet another sticky, sugary treat Killian couldn’t quite stomach. He’d tried two, toasted over the fire until they were gooey on the inside, but they sat uncomfortably in his gut and he left the rest for Emma. He’s not sure if it was the problem was the marshmallows, or the fact that his anxiety is rising again just from being in a forest. Spending centuries on a jungle island, at the whim of a malicious demon, had ruined it for him. On a good day, he could shove it down, bury it deep where all his other vulnerabilities lived. But today is not a good day.

“What are you thinking about, Killian?” Emma asks, and he supposes he has been quiet for too long.

“Just… things.”

“Good things?”

He wishes.

“No.”

“Oh.”

She’s got her fingers on his chest, toying absently with the hairs at the unbuttoned top of his shirt. He wonders if she’ll ask for more of him. He wonders if he can give it this time. He thinks about her body pressed against his and her gentle hands removing his clothes, and maybe he wants to try it again.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Emma asks.

Her unexpected question forces an alteration of Killian’s thoughts that is abrupt and unpleasant. Because that’s why they’re really out here, isn’t it? To talk about things. Reconnect, whatever the hell that meant. He doesn’t want to do this. He really, really doesn’t want to dip his toes back into those memories. It’s bad enough he has to bare his soul for the cricket on a regular basis.

“I…”

Where does he start? How can he tell her the true horrors he endured in the cellar? And does she even want to hear it – how they’d seemingly delighted in every strangled groan and grunt he couldn’t hold back under the torture, and how they’d laughed when they finally forced a scream from him? That his only comfort was the hallucination of her, kneeling at his side in the cell telling him everything would be okay as he struggled to breathe around the pain consuming his body? Bloody hell, he’s shaking again at the thought of saying any of that to her.

“We don’t have to do this,” Emma says, giving him a way out that he desperately wants to use.

But Killian Jones is not a coward.

“No, it’s… I can…”

“Breathe, Killian,” she coaches, sitting up straighter and her hand moves up to cradle his face, “Breathe. You’re okay.”

He takes a breath. And another. And slowly the tendrils of panic release him.

“I saw you there,” he blurts out before his mind can talk him out of it again, “In the cell with me. You brought me comfort amongst the torment…”

 “Killian, you have to be still. Just be still. It’ll only hurt more if you move.”

He blinks drowsily at her standing beside him, her hands gentle on his battered body as he hangs from the shackle. Perhaps he should listen to her advice. The pain of fighting to keep his feet under him is making it harder to breathe. Harder to think. And he needs to think. But…

“Emma, how are you here?” he gasps, and his eyes fill with tears of relief.

Her hand caresses his face as she smiles, and he wants to weep from how good it feels. Her love. Her kindness. How long has it been since anyone has touched him in such a way? How long has he been shackled in this cold cell?

“It’s okay,” she says with so much tenderness, “Everything’s going to be okay now. Go to sleep, Killian.”

His eyes flutter closed. He’s so cold. He’s so tired. Everything hurts but it’s okay because Emma’s here.

 “That’s why you didn’t know if I was real,” Emma says quietly, “when we found you. I thought… I thought I’d lost you. That they’d….”

She’s pressed tightly against his side again as he hesitantly shares the story with her.

“I was so scared, Killian.”

“Aye, love. Me too.”

He hadn’t meant to admit that, but he had been terrified. He’d kept it hidden from his captors as best he could but by the end, he knew he was failing. There’s only so much a man can take. And they’d known that, finding his weaknesses and pushing him past his breaking point. For two weeks, he suffered at their hands.

 “Focus on your breathing, Killian,” Emma says softly.

He’s shivering, naked against the cold floor, exhausted from the pain yet unable to sleep because of it. His ruined hand feels so unbearably hot that he envisions it may well burst into flames, every involuntary twitch of his broken fingers sending a blazing agony up his arm. And further down his body there’s still the terrible, terrible burning sensation from his captor’s latest game.

“I d-don’t want you to s-see me like this, Emma,” he whispers through chattering teeth, his eyes squeezed shut.

“It’s okay. You know I’m not really here.”

The reminder that he is alone is too much. It’s like a wave of emotion cresting, and crashing into him with immense force, making him want to howl his rage and despair until his lungs are empty. But he only allows a whimper. He won’t give them the satisfaction of knowing how utterly broken he is.

“Just breathe,” not-Emma murmurs, her imaginary fingers on his face close enough to the real thing that Killian feels himself melting into her touch, “Just keep breathing, Killian.”

 “It felt so real. I know it wasn’t, but… you helped me to stay sane. I would have lost myself if it weren’t for the image of you at my side.”

The fire is burning low now and the loss of its heat is making him shiver. Emma moves the blanket so it’s resting over both of them, and her hand settles on his left forearm as she burrows closer into his right side, like she can cuddle the fear right out of him. He appreciates the gesture, struggling with the mental distress of releasing the memories from that box in his mind. Of admitting his fears to Emma. And he has barely touched on what they did to him in that cellar. He doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to, not to Emma.

“I’m sorry it took us so long to find you,” Emma says.

“It’s alright.”

“No, it’s not. We were nearly… we were nearly too late, Killian, you were…”

“Almost gone,” he whispers, staring blankly into the campfire.

  When he swallows, he can taste blood, having bitten either his tongue or his lip – he doesn’t know which one – trying to hold back his cries during his last torture session. It hadn’t even helped, not for long enough. His strength is entirely depleted. The pain throughout his body has faded to a dull, miserable sort of ache, that he’s grateful for because it’s better than the fire that had consumed him before. And he realizes distantly that this is it, this is the end. It’s not how he thought he’d go – and he’s thought about it a lot over his too many lifetimes. A quiet, distraught sound escapes his parched throat at the thought that Emma will be too late to save him. He’s not afraid to die, his heart doesn’t ache for himself but for her, how terrible it will be for Emma to find his corpse. How long will it take? But wait, here’s Emma now, her hand gently rubbing at his curved back as he lies there helpless.

“Emma?” His lips move, but he doesn’t think he’s actually spoken aloud.

He doesn’t seem to have the strength for that anymore, but that doesn’t matter. Emma presses her lips against the back of his bare shoulder. He can feel her hair tickling his skin.

“Ssshhh,” she shushes him, “I’m here.”

But she’s not really, he knows that. It’s just his mind playing a trick on him again. But he might as well take the comfort it seems willing to provide in his final hours.

“Hold me, Emma. Please, I want to feel your embrace as I go.”

Not-Emma’s arms slip under him, lifting him effortlessly into her embrace. The motion hurts in a way in shouldn’t because this isn’t real, but he moans weakly anyway.

“It’s okay, Killian. It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

It’s hard to breathe, but he knows that won’t matter for much longer. Emma’s fingers move lightly over his cheek, across his jawline, caressing his face as she holds him steady. He feels like he’s floating now, only her touch keeping him from disappearing into nothing. Killian feels immensely grateful for her comfort. He doesn’t bother to open his eyes, content to imagine how she looks, the smile on her face, the kindness in her eyes. The love she has for him is flowing into his body, easing his suffering in his final moments. But his captors come back for him, one more time and he just wants this to be over.

“Just bloody finish it,” he says, and he can tell he’s said it aloud this time by how feeble his voice sounds.

He floats away again and he doesn’t want to come down, but they pull him back, holding his right arm too tightly and he can’t take any more of this, can’t take the pain that he knows is going to overwhelm him in a moment when they aggravate his broken fingers again just for the fun of it. He shakes and writhes and implores for them to stop and he promised himself, he promised Emma they could not break him, but they have. By the gods, they have. But not-Emma is still here somehow, and her touch feels more real than it ever has. She’s never been there during his tortures, only afterwards in his cage, and Killian struggles to focus on her. She looks scared this time and Killian doesn’t like it. He wants desperately to let go, to escape this torment, but she looks so sad he can’t bear to leave her like this. But his body is giving up and he has no choice.

“I’m so sorry, Emma.”

Slowly, the world begins to disappear again. And not-Emma says she’s real now, and he almost believes it. He wants to believe it, that she has really found him, even if she’s come too late to save him. She tells him just to rest, her fingers curled tightly around his shoulder, soothing and steadying. Her permission is all he needs. Killian finally submits to the void that’s been beckoning to him so enticingly, and he doesn’t expect to wake up again.

 Emma’s sniffling jolts Killian out of the morbid tale he was telling, his voice monotonous as he tried to distance himself from the event, and he realizes he’s lost some time by the way the fire is only embers now.

“Emma? What’s wrong, love?” he asks with concern, giving his head a quick shake to remove what feels like cobwebs out of his brain.

“S-sorry,” she says weakly, her voice quivering, “I just… I didn’t know how close it actually was. Another few hours and… God, Killian.”

Oh. Oh.

“No, I’m sorry, truly. This was a bad idea. I shouldn’t have told you all that.”

He tries to twist away slightly so he can see her face, but she’s holding onto him too tightly. And she’s weeping freely now, sobbing into his shirt. Curse the cricket for this suggestion, it’s only made things worse. And curse Killian too for going along with it.

“Hey, it’s okay, Emma. I’m with you. It’s okay.”

He repeats her own words back to her, the words she’s used for him so frequently of late, when he wakes panicked in the night or finds himself suddenly unable to catch his breath as the memories cloud his mind. His hand rubs at Emma’s back, trying to soothe her, and he wishes, gods, he wishes he had a second hand with which to wipe her tears away. Though he can’t move his left arm at all right now anyway, because she’s clinging onto it like she’ll float away if she doesn’t.

“Sshhh, love, be calm,” he continues, slipping in his own phrases now, folding himself around her as much as he’s able, sheltering her as she falls apart, “We’re okay now. We’re okay. Just breathe, there’s a good girl. Shh, it’s going to be alright, Emma.”

Slowly her body begins to relax in his arms, and after a while she takes a shuddering breath and sits up to scrub away her tears, and grabs a handkerchief from her pocket to blow her nose. Killian pulls the flask of rum from his pocket and pushes it gently into her trembling hands when she’s done.

“Drink up, Swan, and I’ll tend the fire.”

He needs a moment to calm himself as well and placing some more logs on the fire is a perfect excuse to get him the space he needs, and a simple task to ground himself firmly in the present. Emma stares at the flask in her hand with red-rimmed eyes as Killian carefully tends the fire, expertly poking at and blowing on the embers around the new wood he’s placed on it, until it flares back to life, driving away the chill.

“I’m sorry I’m such a mess,” Emma says with a little, self-deprecating sort of laugh, “I’m supposed to be strong, for you. Because I’m fine, you’re the one that was…”

Tortured.

“Hey now, none of that,” Killian says firmly, dropping to one knee in front of her so he can lift her chin and look into her eyes, “You are strong, love, far stronger than I would be in your place. You figured out where I was and you saved me, Emma.”

He takes her hand in his and presses a kiss to the back of it while never breaking eye contact, his lips lingering on her skin as he makes certain she can see in his face how much he means what he’s saying.

“You saved me,” he repeats softly when he finally lifts his mouth again, “I owe you everything. You’re not a mess, Emma, you’re a bloody hero.”

She smiles, hesitant at first but growing wider and then she puts the unopened flask aside in favour of leaning forward to kiss him. He meets her halfway, surging upwards with a bit too much force that accidentally sends Emma toppling backwards off the log with a yelp and Killian falling with her, frantically trying to break their fall without hurting her. He must manage it, because when they make eye contact in this compromising position, Emma’s giggling and Killian can’t help the sound bubbling up his throat too because he’s experienced far too many emotions in such a sort time tonight and he’s feeling a little giddy.

“Sorry, love,” he says, trying to suppress his undignified giggling, “That was…”

But now he’s acutely aware of how close they are, how her hands are clinging to him, and how her thigh is conveniently pressing between his legs. His glee abates as it’s replaced by another feeling – he really, really wants to kiss her again, and deeper this time. And he can barely keep up with all these sensations and he doesn’t even care at this point, his head feeling a little dizzy at the intoxicating nearness of Emma, of her scent and her touch. He wonders if – he hopes – that Emma can feel the heat between them too.

“I’m fine, Killian, it’s fine. Are you-”                              

He gives in to his body’s urges despite his reservations and swallows the rest of her question, his lips capturing hers and his tongue seeking entrance to her mouth, and she immediately responds in kind, almost hungrier for it than he is. Thank the gods, Killian thinks, because if she hadn’t been in the mood, he would have felt stupid, though he most likely could get her into the mood without much effort. The passion between them builds even higher and Killian is desperate for more. He presumes his eyes possess the same dazed look that Emma’s do as they both take a moment to catch their breath.

“Emma, may I…” Emma waits patiently while he finds the words, find the courage to say what he wants, her hand stilling against his chest. “I want to… I want to make love to you.”

Emma laughs a little, like she always does when he uses that phrase (nobody calls it that anymore, Killian but he’s not quite comfortable using a more vulgar term, not to Emma, she’s too perfect and too good and it would be very bad form to say anything like that in her hearing) but she also blushes slightly, and he can see she’s just as eager for it as he is.

“Okay.”

With a wave of her hand, Emma extinguishes the campfire, and then they can hardly keep their hands off each other as they move to the privacy of their tent. The moment they are inside Killian is overcome with the burning desire to touch more of her skin right now.

“Less clothes,” Killian demands, and Emma grins, pulling her lower lip between her teeth before she starts taking her layers off.

She doesn’t ask him to take his own off, sticking to her promise that she won’t push him, but he wants to. He wants this. He’s tired of being a coward. His fingers hurry to remove his own clothing (and he’s never been more thankful to have the use of those five fingers again than at this precise moment), and in a moment Emma is more or less naked in front of him and he’s in a similar state, at least from the waist up. Now his mouth can explore her newly exposed flesh and he delights in the sounds he can pull from her by doing so. Emma’s hand rests against the back of his head, the other bracing herself, leaning back as he takes what he wants. It’s a slow and tender sort of lovemaking; hands drifting slowly across skin, mouths savouring the taste of the other, hushed words of reverent appreciation, and this is exactly what Killian needs. They take their time, neither in a hurry to go further yet, just enjoying getting lost in the sensations.

“Emma.” Killian is the one to break away, feeling the urgency, the need, beginning to override his uncertainties about what he intends to do.

“What is it?”

Killian’s looking up at Emma’s flushed face as he leans back on his elbows on the mattress, her lips slightly swollen from his earlier attentions, her hair a gloriously wild tangle and the colour bright in her cheeks. He’s taken off the brace and hook because they’re in such tight quarters right now, there’s a high chance his hook would rip the side of their shelter when they really get into it, and it would only take a moment of inattention, the briefest impulse to anchor himself to something, and the flimsy material would be rent right open. He doesn’t need one more thing to be concerned about tonight. Not with what he is about to do. Killian hesitates for a second before he grabs Emma’s hand in his and guides it to his belt buckle – his jeans the only thing he’s still wearing besides his socks and his rings and the charms around his neck.

“Are you sure?” Emma asks, her fingers curling into the waistband at the front of his jeans.

“Yes,” he murmurs, quickly, before he can lose his nerve again, “just… just go slow.”

Her eyes flick back up to his several times, checking on his wellbeing as she slowly releases him from the confines of his trousers. He can feel the memories clawing at the edge of his mind, but he keeps watching her, focuses on the feel of her soft fingers brushing against his skin as he lifts his hips and allows her to tug his jeans down and off. Then it’s over and now Emma’s moving back up his body, taking his face in her hands and gazing into his eyes.

“Still with me?” she asks quietly.

There’s no denying that his body is responding to their activities, but Emma just wants to be certain his mind is on board with it as well, after how badly he reacted last time. She’s good like that.

“Aye, keep going, love.”

And then her hand slips down and there, bloody finally. Killian allows himself to get lost in the sensations for a glorious interval. Emma could easily get him off just like this, she’s done it before, her talented hands and her mouth – oh gods, her mouth, a shudder runs through him at the thought – and he’s strongly tempted to allow her to continue, if he didn’t have another plan for tonight. He needs… He needs.

“Wait,” Killian chokes out, and she stops immediately, looking at him with concern.

“What’s wrong? Is this too much?”

“No. I mean, yes, but… Not for the reasons you think.” He breathes deeply, gathers his wits, and his fortitude. “I don’t want to finish like this, Emma, I want… I want you. I want to be… inside you.”

He’s seconds away from adding a pathetic please because she’s so close to him, but not close enough and his skin is tingling with desire. But before he has to, Emma leans forward and her mouth claims his again, scorching and demanding and keeping him firmly rooted in the present time. When she pulls back, his head spinning a little from how hard she’s kissed him, she slips her arm behind him – sit up, Killian, I want to hold you –and he follows her guidance willingly until he’s sitting on the edge of their camping bed, his heart pounding against his ribs because he knows, he knows how good she will make him feel. Then she’s on him and around him, astride his thighs as she settles onto him. His hand finds its way to the swell of her bare arse, drawing her down, coaxing her to take him in further.

“That’s it, love,” he murmurs, and there’s a shameless moan from the back of his throat as she wraps her legs around his waist, taking him deeper, “Gods, you feel so bloody good, Emma.” Because Emma loves it when he tells her how much he’s appreciating what she’s doing to him – and bloody hell, he is appreciating it. A lot. And she’s barely done anything yet.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” Emma says quietly, her hot breath against his ear sending a shiver of eager anticipation down his spine, “Tell me if you need me to stop, at any time and I will. Okay?”

Killian nods his assent, and slowly she begins to move, murmurs words of praise to him as her fingers bury themselves in the hair at the nape of his neck, her other hand slipping behind his back to hold him close. This position is soft and intimate and wonderful as all his senses become completely immersed in everything Emma. There’s no room for any other feeling, or any other thought. She’s holding onto him as she sets the pace and he’s kissing whatever part of her he can reach, using lips and tongue and teeth the way she likes it and she tastes amazing and he can’t get enough and gods, she is going to drive him insane. He enjoys it rough, sometimes – most times – and Emma always obliges, but tonight she takes him gently, lovingly, carefully, all soft phrases and leisurely movements. And it’s exactly what Killian needs, his fears falling away, this tender coupling the complete opposite to the last time he was at someone’s mercy. And as well as he knows her to work her up, Emma knows how to do the same to him, and despite the slowness of it all Killian finds himself teetering on that edge far quicker than he’d expected. Emma’s quiet moans and gasps as she rides him lets him know she’s not far behind, and he desperately hopes she’s close enough that he won’t leave her unsatisfied.

“Emma… gods, Emma, I’m…” Killian groans, long and loud in the quiet of the forest, his jaw tight as he struggles to keep himself in check. “I’m going to…”

“It’s okay,” she says, strained and tremulous and breathless and still continuing the same steady, relentless pace, “It’s okay. Come for me, Killian.”

“You first, darling,” Killian grits out because damn it, he’s a gentleman.

But he’s too close, he can feel it, he’s not going to be able to hold out. His rhythm is beginning to stutter and he’s losing control. He is wrecked, his endurance is usually better than this and he has to take a moment to breathe, his forehead falling forwards onto Emma’s shoulder. Thankfully Emma seems to take pity on him, for she pauses her motion while he collects himself. Only a moment, but it’s enough. He can tell she’s close, if he could just-

“Right there, yes, oh god Killian,” Emma gasps, pulling harder at his hair, her fingernails scratching lightly against his back, “Don’t stop, please, please, Killian, I’m so close.”

His response is a growl, primal and desperate, her almost frenzied pleas sending him past the point of no return. He has no intention of stopping. Another panted yes and god and then she’s clenching tight around him, his actions bringing her to her peak and his name tumbles from her lips as she shatters and it’s too much and it’s perfect and – and – and he’s there and nothing else matters as they both fall apart.

-/-

No, actually they were ‘coming together’ in every sense of the phrase, is the first thought Killian’s brain has when he’s able to think anything at all again and he snickers into the juncture of Emma’s neck and shoulder as she remains in his arms, equally as blissed out as he is.

“What’s so funny?” she asks, still out of breath, and Killian’s hand slides up the smooth curve of her back.

“Just thinking.”

He lifts his mouth to hers and kisses her deeply, slowly, pouring all his devotion and gratitude into it, only stopping because he wants to be certain Emma knows how much she means to him.

“Emma, you’re a marvel and I love you.”

“Right back at you,” she says, smiling, sparkling eyes even in the dimness of their shelter, a bit of a flush to her cheeks, “That… that was okay, then?”

She looks unsure now, like she’s pushed him further than he was ready for, like she’s broken her promise, and this was what Killian was concerned about – Emma’s insecurities coming to the forefront. He wants those doubts banished from her mind immediately. He brushes some of her wayward hair behind her ear, his touch lingering against her skin, thumb drawing a path along her jawline on the way back.

“It was perfect, love,” he assures her, “You were perfect. You gave me everything I asked for. And… I hope my performance was satisfactory as well?”

A smirk punctuates his salacious question, a little lift of his left eyebrow and there, the uncertainty is gone from Emma’s face like it never existed, replaced with a rather coy smile that Killian much prefers.

“Very.”

They move, eventually, lying down side by side on the mattress and they remain like that, sharing gentle affections and whispered adoration, for quite some time, until the mood gradually changes to something needy once more. Killian moves over the top of her and smiles wickedly, enjoying the way Emma’s breathing has quickened already before he’s even begun, because now it’s his turn to be in control, and she knows very well what his intentions are. It’s time to repay his beautiful Swan for the pleasure she bestowed upon him.

to be continued...

#comfortember 2020 #cs ff #cs fic #cs smut #only in this chapter though #hurt/comfort #whump #killian jones #emma swan #captain swan #my fanfics

[seriouslyhooked]

When We Collide (Part 5)

Emma Swan has always known one thing: trust no one but yourself. Unfortunately she forgot her one rule and now she’s paying for it. One bad decision led her to the monstrous ‘Crocodile’ a mobster in New York who goes by the name Gold. Hope seems lost until she meets another person in this underworld, Killian Jones. Despite the place they find each other, a true love blossoms, and they manage to get away. But what will happen when Emma discovers who Killian really is? Will love prevail? Um, yeah, I’m writing this, so duh – it’s all love all the time. Fic features motorcycles, hot guys in leather cuts, and a bit of action/drama. Will end happily, and despite the first chapter, will be light on angst. Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4. Available on FanFiction Here and AO3 Here.

A/N: Hey everybody! First and foremost, just want to thank those of you still on this journey with me. My motivation to write has been so much lower than I thought it would be, but I haven’t lost sight of what I want from this fic and I am happy to finally share a new installment. This chapter brings a last burst of road trip fluff and the build up to a big moment  – Emma’s introduction to Killian’s life in the MC. It’s going to be fun to explore these dynamics in the next few chapters, but for now I hope you will enjoy, and I can’t wait to see what you all think. Thanks so much for reading!

In the quiet, tranquil calm of a woodland morning, Killian watched the cabin bedroom fill with sunlight, bringing the softest golden glow to the rustic room where he and Emma had spent the night. Birds chirped to greet the new day’s light, and the gentle breeze among these mountains brushed branches from a nearby oak against the windowpane. The whistle of the wind and the gentle swish of leaves on glass melded together into something deeply familiar, a symphony of sound, the song of sunrise.

Sadly, this song was the last of its kind that Emma and Killian would enjoy on this journey. The final portion of their cross-country trek would come today, and when they arrived back home, a new reality would set in. Things would change drastically, Killian would have to reengage with a life he’d long ago left behind, yet despite the challenges that awaited him, Killian was astounded at the peace he could feel in this moment. Holding Emma as she still lay sleeping, he was filled with contentment, choosing to anchor himself to something that would be forever constant: his love for this incredible woman.

“You’re doing it again,” Emma murmured, stirring from sleep and already entirely aware of him before she’d so much as opened her eyes.

Killian let the sultry sound of her sleep-laced voice wash over him. It sent a similar sensation coursing through him as the soft brush of her fingertips over his chest. Strumming an unknown melody, her hands on his skin lit him up inside, and though he’d just taken her a few hours ago, he was already ready to devour her again. Strewn out like this, in the glow of early morning, Emma was a vision with gold hair and sun kissed skin. She was stunning, and through the grace of God and all good things, she was miraculously his. The thought of that gave him great comfort and his own hold on her tightened ever so slightly. In truth, he was so distracted he nearly forgot to answer her sassy statement, but the smile that appeared at her lips as her green eyes opened for the day demanded that he ask for more.

“Doing what, love?”

“You’re loving me so much that I simply can’t sleep through it.”

Another man would deny such a cheesy proclamation, or deflect from the depth of his feelings, but not Killian. No, his Swan had called him to the floor, and she was right. He was up this morning thinking only of his love for her, and while other thoughts may threaten to encroach on their time together, he had pushed them all aside. She was the best way to stay grounded and centered, and he was selfish, needing to soak up every last drop of their moments together just to keep his peace of mind.

“I’d offer some condolences, Emma, but I think we both know how you feel about my loving you.”

He murmured the words against her skin, taking advantage of her lingering drowsiness to pepper kisses on her lips, her jaw, and then the hollow of her neck. He hummed out a sound of sheer delight when he felt her shiver beneath him, and when she let out that perfect moan of hers, the one that was part gasp and part plea for more, he was lost. All conversation was behind him, and he knew the only thing left was to show her how much he loved her. Luckily for Killian, nothing had ever come so naturally.

The choice he must make this morning was between a fast and hard claiming, or a slow, steady savoring of two souls becoming one. The payoff for either was bound for greatness, but Killian was keenly aware of how everything would soon be different. Once they arrived back with his brothers, the solitude they’d cultivated would be encroached on, and though Killian had his own house, which could provide ample space and privacy, he also had a sneaking suspicion that his brother and fellow club members would be highly invested in him and his woman. After weeks of it being just the two of them, Killian knew he’d have to share Emma’s attentions, and that he too would have to interact with people other than his Swan. It would all be good in the end, but he wanted to make the most of these last truly secluded moments that they had together.

The teasing slowness of his ministrations became a torturous affair not just for Emma, but for him as well. He began by tasting her everywhere, tracing every line and curve of her, with extra attention paid to the places that made her blood sing. He hung on every breath she released, and every charged call of his name that whispered past her lips. When she came apart from his touch alone, his sense of pride surged dramatically, but the most beautiful sight was when she relaxed back into that post-climax moment, gazing at him with love in her eyes and nothing but a soul-deep contentment in her heart. It made a man feel worthy to know he had put that look on his woman’s face, and for Killian it was the closest he would ever feel to absolution. He’d done wrong in this life, made choices that veered well off the path of what was good or moral, but somehow, she still loved him, and Killian was better for that love.

By the time she was ready to be taken, Killian was so riled, his senses were frayed in all directions. Knowing that he was already worked up, Emma decided to push him further, murmuring that she loved him and asking him to make her his. The searing heat of his need for her was constant, but the feeling when he thrust inside and claimed her was the most agonizingly incredible feeling in the world. Nothing should feel this right, or this perfect, but with Emma it always did. Their rhythm was synced to perfection, their love palpable in the air around them, and though Killian did his best to savor every bit of it he could, it always felt like it was over far too soon. All it took was Emma arching her back, crying out in ecstasy, giving over to bliss, and he was right there with her, spent but saved and feeling like despite the uneasiness of this next moment, he and Emma could handle anything.

“Whatever happens today, it won’t change anything,” Emma said, her fingers running through his hair that was growing longer than he normally allowed it. She pushed it out of his face, before looking into his eyes and smiling in a way that melted his heart. “I love you, and I always will.”

“It’s the same for me, love, but rest assured, if you feel even the slightest discomfort, we will move on. We’re bound to nothing but each other.”

“Killian, this is your home -,” she began. He quieted her thought with a kiss before clarifying the truth to her.

“You are my home, Emma. Wherever you wish to be is where we will be, and I will be the happiest man alive just for being by your side.”

Emma readily accepted this promise from him, whispering that she felt the same as they continued to laze for a while more together, enjoying their connection and soaking in this last bit of privacy. Eventually, they had to get up and check out from this retreat, and they moved through the morning with a practiced precision of two people who had done this for weeks. Travelling had become second nature to them both, and the six-hour ride standing between them and his brothers would be easily managed.

For Killian, the journey honestly felt too short, though he made sure to stop and keep a steady pace for Emma’s sake. He knew she had never been to California before, and there was something magical about this place compared with every other. It was easily the most beautiful of the terrain they’d been in for weeks as well, and in Big Sur specifically, there was a natural beauty totally unique to this corner of the world. Giant forests rose impossibly high into the sky, a cross between the woods of the pacific northwest and the jungles of South America. Trees stood so tall the tops could not be seen, and even in patches where fires had blazed in seasons past, life prevailed, with green vegetation growing from ash and soot and dust. When they reached the ocean, Killian felt Emma’s hold on him tighten, an indicator of her excitement, but he still drove quite a few miles down the cliff-lined coastal highway before pulling off to stop.

“Now this is the kind of view I could get used to,” Emma murmured as he helped her off the bike, taking in the secluded patch of beach they’d driven towards where not a soul was nearby. With her hand in his, Killian immediately felt stronger, but the look on Emma’s face prompted a gentle, pleasant aching in his heart. She was happy to be here, in awe of this place, and to Killian that meant everything.

“We’re closing in on our destination now, love. We’ll be back well within the hour if we drive straight through, but there’s something I would very much like to show you, if you’re interested.”

“Lead the way, Captain.”

He led her down the pebbled path to the seaside, torn between watching her reactions and actually navigating their course. The best part of this was that Emma had no idea what was coming. They’d approached from the perfect angle, preserving a truly hidden gem from sight. Only when they rounded the corner would she see it, and as they made their move, he heard her gasp and felt her hand squeeze his tightly.

“Oh my God… I don’t even have words for how beautiful this is.”

Killian completely understood the feeling, though his own sensation of being struck speechless by something truly stunning often came directly from Emma. In this case, the beauty in question was an old, yet faithfully enduring shore house. It was painted white, weathered from storms, but still well-kept and largely preserved against the passage of time. The nearby community saw to it, since the owners of the home had long since gone. This shoreline was all public lands now, but the house remained, a testament to the man who once lived there, a gifted artist, and a natural born storyteller.

The remnants of his decades old art were painted, drawn, and constructed into the very foundation of this home and the mediums of expression were all treasures from the sea. Sea glass especially was plentiful here, drawing dizzying swirls of color along the house, the wood working and more. The glass had been cemented there for decades, but it shone with the same fervor and sparkle as ever. Shells of all shades, some whole and some not, were also used. Iridescent golden hued pieces, hewn from the mix of cold ocean water and warmer kelp garden pools were the stars of the show. They were each a small treasure uniquely found along these rocky coasts, often collected by the sea otters who called this sea shore home. This collection of the rare shells was astounding, and made all the more beautiful by being mixed in with others that were delicate shades of white and ivory and some that were a cooler oyster blue. They hung from wind chimes in the beach trees and off the lanterns, while some darker shells had been ground down to a painted stain that had been used in part to tattoo larger rocks that were too big for the sea to claim. Wherever the eye looked it was drawn to spiraling shapes and stories, never running out of objects to admire.

“How have I never heard of this? And how are we possibly the only ones here?” Emma asked, moving closer and looking at the intricate designs of shells and stones that had been added to the sands and earth more recently. A local commission of artists was in charge of these added displays of beauty, updating them occasionally, but usually waiting for nature to clear the slate. After a big storm where rainwater washed it all away, or higher tides than normal where the sea came just to the house’s front steps, new designs were created and enacted. But it was clear that there had only been sun for some time, and they were fresh on the heels of an exceptionally well-done redesign.

“Very few people know of this place, love. It’s a secret that is guarded by the people of this town so tightly you’ll find no books or blogs or trace of it anywhere. Liam and I are two very rare exceptions, outsiders with the good fortune to know it’s here.”

“How did that happen?” Emma asked, leaning into him and eager for the story from his past.

“My brother and I needed escape when we were here with our father, but we had little means of finding it,” he admitted, bracing himself for talk of that past life, and knowing he should get used to it now that they were nearly home. “The sea was the only thing of comfort for both of us, and we came to it as often as we could. We scoured every last bit of the coast, and I mean every bit. One day we landed here, and happened upon this house as we were searching the coastline for unknown coves. It was easily the best find we ever made. Of course, we nearly scared the life out of the woman who was crafting the shellscape that day, and once she alerted the other town’s people there was a big to do. We were sworn to secrecy and all the like. We never did tell a soul. It remained our secret – one idyllic hideaway from the world we lived in.”

“But now you’ve broken your oath,” Emma said, looking at him curiously, though she was clearly glad for his breach of that old promise.

“Some may believe that.”

“But you don’t?”

“No, love. I believe the promises I have made and will make to you supersede any others. Besides, I am fairly certain that the promise is null when it comes to my wife.”

“Funny, I don’t remember getting married,” Emma said, though her teasing was a front for the rush of emotions she was feeling. “In fact, I don’t even remember you proposing.”

Let’s change that, he thought to himself knowing he had the ring in his pocket right now, but reason won out in the end, and he remembered his plan. He wanted to get Emma totally settled into their new life first, and to make sure she was ready in all ways. He knew she loved him and that she would be his forever, but it was only right to ensure that he do things properly.

“Soon enough, love. You have my word on that.”

Emma grinned at his affirmation, pulling him down by the collar of his leather jacket and kissing him passionately. When they broke apart, she asked him to promise they’d come back here and he did, and after a bit more time in this private oasis, they headed back to the road, driving towards their destination once more.

The ride along the coast was quick, far quicker than he remembered, and when they pulled off the coastal highway and to the discrete exit leading to the town he’d once grown up in, Killian could sense Emma’s surprise. They didn’t need to share a conversation for him to gauge her apprehension and excitement. She was no doubt wondering if they were really going to be living amongst this dense and beautiful forest. It would be a big change from her life in the cities she’d always known.

Soon enough they made it to the town line, reading the hunter green placard that announced their arrival. Unsure of what he expected, Killian was surprised to see just how much improvement had been made in his time away. Their town had always been quaint, but it could easily be described as ‘down on its luck’ when he was a boy. He knew it was his brother’s hope to not only remove the stain of his father’s shady dealings, but to help revitalize this community in a way that had been lacking for decades. But when Killian departed to seek his revenge on Gold, those ideas were mere figments of a would-be dream.

Liam has truly made good, he thought to himself as they cruised down the main street. Here along the town’s center there were new businesses and old ones that had been repaired and shaped for competing in the world today. Things were still classic and beachy, but the energy around it all gave away two important facts: the first was that this town was being tended to and cared for by its tenants, the second was that it was also being protected, and that anything that may threaten this currently peaceful ecosystem would not be allowed.

In this stretch of the ride, Killian could see some familiar faces in the mix, people from his old life in this town who were going about their day to day none the wiser about his return. There were also quite a few new faces as well, but Killian could spot the tourists right away. Their biggest tell was their fixation on his bike. People who lived in this region regularly would be densensitized, and since Liam had imposed a safety parameter for the town from other gangs, they wouldn’t bat an eye, even at a biker without his cut.  

Not far beyond the center of town was the Den, the once large warehouse that had been reconfigured to fit the Land Pirate members and families when need be. When he was here last, the place was little more than a dump, with tell-tale signs of partying strewn about both outside and within. There was also a crappy, rusted gate around the perimeter that did the job of securing the place on some level, but had always been a huge eyesore. Gone was all of that, and in its stead was higher tech, better quality fencing. The Den was now fortified, and Killian could see the precautions put in place that passersby may not realize were installed. He also took note of the probie standing guard at the entrance.

Well this should be interesting, Killian thought as he drove up. He had no idea who this probationary member of the club was. Killian would have to explain who he was and that could get awkward. But before he had the chance the unknown man was speaking.

“Well I’ll be damned. Pres was right. Hook’s come home again.”

“Pres?” Emma whispered and Killian replied quietly.

“That’s Liam’s title here, love.”

“And Hook?”

“My road name.” Emma nodded, taking it all in stride as Killian turned his attention back to the probie. “So, he’s expecting me then?”

“Has been for weeks. You sure took your time getting out here, Hook.”

He looked at the probationary patch on the man’s Land Pirates leather cut and saw the stitched name ‘Mouse.’ Had to be a story behind that name. Didn’t exactly blend with the others who were patched in when Killian was here. “How do you even know who I am?”

“You kidding? You’re a legend, man, and so is she.”

For a minute Killian tensed up, thinking that Mouse was talking about Emma. He was feeling protective, and didn’t like the idea of other men looking her way unless they were going to show the proper respect. Only when Emma let out a laugh did he realize his mistake.

“Oh my God, you mean the bike! That’s classic. Please tell me it has a name.” Emma’s joking was incredibly apparent, and Killian was surprised at how nonplussed she was by their being on unknown turf.

“She,” Mouse stressed and Emma bit back her laugh, but her body still shook with it. “And yeah, bikes get names.”

“Wait don’t tell me. This will be way more fun if I can guess. Hmm, Harley? No that’s kind of obvious. Uh, I mean what do you call a gendered bike? Kind of a tall order… Oh I know, Lady. Kind of on the nose with the whole ‘it’s a she’ thing, but it works, right?”

Killian chuckled at the way Emma was enjoying herself, and he noticed the look of shock on the probie’s face. Clearly he didn’t understand the situation. This was no ordinary woman on the back of his ride giving him shit for having named his bike. This was the most important person in his world, and no one, club member or not, was going to question that.

“Look, kid, my woman and I have been on the road for awhile. We could use the rest, and it’s probably best not to keep my brother waiting anymore.” The overt use of the label for Emma created a total mood shift in Mouse. He had taken the hint.

“Absolutely, Hook. Ma’am.”

The change in tone as he nodded at them and buzzed them through to the compound was pronounced, so much so that Emma mentioned it when they parked and she stepped off the motorcycle.

“Is the somewhat caveman ‘me man, she my woman’ thing baked into this whole MC life?” Emma asked, her brow arched even as a smile teased at her lips. “I’m not complaining, per se. Just curious if I’ll have to announce my belonging to you everywhere I go.”

“Probies are probies for a reason, love, and the reason is they’ve got a whole lot to learn and more than one thing to prove. The men in this club with a patch, my brothers, they know better than to disrespect a woman, Old Lady or not.”

“Ah right, I forgot about that charming title. I don’t know who possibly came up with that one. ‘Old Lady.’ It’s so… unflattering. Had to be a man.”

“In this world, you can blame nearly everything on a man, love,” Killian quipped and Emma grinned at his assessment before continuing to lament the biker term for a man’s significant other.

“I honestly thought I’d have a few years before getting called ‘old lady’ and even then it would be by bratty neighborhood kids, not hot guys in leather who name their motorcycles.” Killian growled at the mention of men being hot and Emma teased him with a nip against his lips that was designed to have him wanting more but was only meant in jest. “But don’t worry, I’ll make up for all of this somehow. I’m gonna find you the perfect partner nickname that undercuts how irresistibly sexy I find you in all your leather. I just need a little time.”

“You can call me any damn thing you want, Emma. As long as you call me yours.”

The words were honest and immediately shifted the sass of Emma’s commentary to something softer. Instinctively, she placed a gentle and loving kiss on his lips before they both turned to the warehouse. Together they walked hand in hand towards the door, and when they entered, Killian held his breath. Would this place look like the nightmare of his youth? The place he’d have fought through anything to get away from? It took only the briefest moment to see those worries were unfounded.

Killian was utterly relieved at how normal the Den looked, and how the relic of old had been completely rehabilitated. The general concept was the same, starting with a vastness in the entrance that made it seem like this place went on forever. The entryway blended into a great room where club members and guests spent a lot of time, and in the back there’d surely be more changes to go along with these ones. Killian knew the kitchen and living quarters, the war room and Liam’s office all would have been revamped if this part of the warehouse was. But this communal space in particular held a lot of painful memories. The ghosts of this place had haunted him for some time, but they were nearly all cast away by the warmth and modern makings of this renovation. It made Killian want to see more, something he never truly believed was possible, but as curious as Killian was, there simply wasn’t time. Soon the renovation was forgotten, and instead he was faced with the all important figure standing there, waiting for him after years of no contact. 

“Liam.” 

…

Post-Note: So I know I have stopped it right at the start of a hugely important reunion, but I fully intend to make up for it in the next chapter. Introducing the actual MC is going to be such fun for me, but, as with this chapter, it may take some time before I have a next installment out. My muse has been tricky, but I am hoping to get a bigger chunk of my story, ‘Feels Like This’ written by the end of the year so I can hopefully finish it up. Anyway, I would love to hear what you all thought of this chapter, and as always, I really appreciate you all reading and thank you so much for the support! Until next time!

#captain swan #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #cs #cs fic #cs ff #cs fluff #cs smut #emma swan #killian jones #cs mc #cs mc fic #ouat mc #the whole storybrooke gang #when we collide #when we collide au #when we collide 5 #motorcycle club au

[antihero-writings]

Hearts in Cages

Fandom: Muted (Webtoon)

(Spoilers for some of the more recent chapters!!)

Fic Summary: What does it feel like to have a part of you caged and tortured? Avaline knows this feeling all too well. But maybe Raum can help end the cycle...or at least alleviate the pain.

Character Focus: Avaline Severin, Raum, Beau, and Athalie Severin--(mentioned).

Notes: I wrote this for Mabs Drawlloween club prompt 6: "Familiar". I'll put a link to the prompt list in a reblog!

I'm trying something new with this prompt! For a long time I've wanted to try and do a sort of no-edit-run thing, where I write a fic and post it within the same day. I thought an inktober prompt or two would be a great way to try it out!

I have a couple Inktober lists saved to choose from, and when I saw "Familiar" I thought of Muted! I've been wanting to write about Raum especially for a while so I thought this'd be a great one!

I was expecting forcing myself to post in the same day as writing to be impossible, but this ended up being super fun!

If you have any other ideas for me based off of any inktober prompts, don't hesistate to send me prompts!! I'll probably post the lists I've saved here at some point for you guys to send me prompts from!!

If you enjoyed this fic, I'd really really appreciate if you'd say so in a comment, and/or reblog!!

Hearts in Cages:

The Queen of Hearts steps down the stone stairs in a black dress, and a glistening crown, like blades growing out of her head, a vulture perched on her shoulder. Her hair is grey, her expression immutable. That, and the malevolence betrayed by the lines of her face, makes her look like a much older woman than she actually is.

Her footfalls sound rhythmically against the stones as she descends deeper into the dungeon, passing sconces; tongues of red fire blazing within them, which dance in her imperceptible eyes.

When she reaches the dungeon there are no cells, no prisoners reaching their hands through the bars, begging for mercy.

It is a single room, small, and the walls are shelves, lined with boxes emanating faint light from their locked lids.

She stalks up to one side, finding one amongst the many. It’s nothing special, in look or placement within the rest.

She glares down upon the name marked on the front:

“Avaline.”

Her expression barely changes but…There is such distain on her face.

The vulture is holding a ring of keys in his mouth, and at this moment he lowers his head, offering them to her.

It takes her too long to find the right one. Once she does she slides it into the lock.

After the click, she returns the key to the ring and raises her hands—boney and pale, always too cold—and lifts the lid.

The box is full of a foul-smelling, red liquid. Without hesitation the queen reaches her hands into the blood and pulls out—

Inside the box, inside all the boxes, is a heart. A heart, thumping, glowing slightly. It begins to thump faster as she holds it—(and far away a lonely girl grimaces and turns over in her sleep)—

The worst part is that, upon Athalie’s ever-emotionless face, a smile ruptures as she squeezes.

Avaline wasn’t quite sure what was real when she opened her eyes, all she knew was pain; pain radiating through her body, sharp and unassailable. A crow was screeching in the other room, and she could almost feel her mother’s cold hands.

She didn’t know how long it went on before it subsided, and even when it did, she remained, shaking on the floor.

She put a hand on her face, air a burden to her lungs, searing the back of her throat.

Avaline told Camille she was lucky. That keeping her familiar locked in a cage for years was mild compared to having him locked away on top of a blood sigil.

Her words were dull and blank…along with the rest of her.

Beneath all that…she wanted to scream, she wanted to cry.

She wanted to stand up, shove her chair back and shriek:

Do you know what it’s like?! Do you know what it’s like to have a part of you ripped away?! Stripped away by someone you care about?! To have something you can’t live without trapped in a cage?! To have that piece of you tortured again and again?! Do you know what I’ve been going though?! No, you don’t, do you?! You only care about yourself!

She may not quite mean the last few sentences…but she wanted to shout them all the same.

What did it feel like? Well…it felt a little like withdrawals from a drug your quite fond of…and a lot like being beaten with a closed fist.

What did she do wrong? Why was she being punished for Camille’s disobedience?

Why couldn’t Camille just come home? It was so simple. Everything would go back to normal. And maybe normal wasn’t quite happy…but at least it wasn’t this.

Was mom right? Did Camille never care about her? Did she only tolerate her? Was she just a nuisance everyone was putting up with? A mosquito sucking the life out of everyone around her so she could breathe?

Avaline Severin. You are a vision. You do not need to make a wish with me in order to find love.

She put her hands on the sides of her head.

Damn him too. Damn him for making her believe there was hope, that she was anything more than worthless, when she should just be put out of her misery, just face the truth.

She tried not to cry. Crying was for wimps, who couldn’t handle the world, and other assorted lowlifes.

…She wanted it. She craved tears, emotion. She craved them so much, sometimes, when she was alone, the cracks in the vase just broke.

But she didn’t get to cry and yell and make them listen. She didn’t get to stay away and sort all this out on her own. She didn’t get to make grand displays of defiance. She didn’t get to break down, and take down the world with her, like Camille did. She had to stay, and play, and get hurt, over and over, for everyone else’s indiscretions…because she was the only one close enough for her mom to take it out on.

Like she wasn’t even a thing herself; just a punching bag, a mirror, for everyone else to bounce off of.

She was so, so tired.

So tired from getting punched over and over.

Mom didn’t have to hurt Beau just to get to her, did she? He didn’t do anything wrong. If she was going to hurt her, why couldn’t she just do it directly?

To say she missed him couldn’t cover it.

Would one say they missed their arm if it was wrenched out of its socket? Would one say they missed their heart if it was ripped out of their chest?

She hated how far he was from her…but she hated more how close he was. Just down the hall…worlds apart.

(Just like Camille.)

And she couldn’t do anything to help, or be with, either of them.

The pain that ran through her every time her mother put her hands on the sigil…

She couldn’t believe her mother would do this.

Her mother certainly wasn’t the kindest, most nurturing people out there…that much was obvious. But Avaline never thought of her as cruel. Each time a thought too malicious ran through her, she tempered it by telling herself her mother was doing this all out of love. She told herself that she was right, tradition was important after all. That maybe they deserved all this.

And yet, on nights like this, waking or sleeping, she wondered if the Red Queen wrenched people’s hearts out of their chests, and put them in boxes in her dungeon, and, when her subjects misbehaved, calmly walked down the stairs, opened the boxes, and relished as she squeezed.

Because she was guessing that that would feel more than a little like this.

******

The door creaked as Raum stepped into Athalie’s office.

“Mom, you’re back!” A child bounced happily into the room, blonde hair flickering.“Look, look!”

Athalie didn’t turn around.

“Avaline.” The word was cold, yet something of a growl in her throat. “What have I told you about—”

Athalie turned around just enough to catch a glimpse, and now froze, her eyes shimmering with horror and distain.

“WHAT. DID YOU DO. TO YOUR HAIR?!” The shriek was like—(what are they called? Oh, yes!)—microphone feedback.

Raum grimaced appropriately, his ears drooping.

“Your blood. You bodies. Your soul. It doesn’t matter what a demon requires when it comes to securing the future of our family. You will give them to them without hesitation. So long as it is a fair price for what you have wished for.”

How was it possible to get everything so wrong? What wish could possibly equal the price of a human soul?

And they call me a demon.

Even the the air in here tasted bitter.

Though Athalie was gone at the moment, the traces of her may never leave the room.

“Who…there?” Came a weak caw from the other side of the room.

He spun around to see the object of his quest: a crow in a cage.

Beau wasn’t even standing; he was laying down on the table in the cage, his wings wrapped around himself, trembling, his red eyes doleful. There were some patches where his feathers were thin.

Raum’s face drooped even further.

How could she do this to her own daughter?

Well, he knew how—he’d watched the scenes play out—yet he still couldn’t believe the cruelty of some humans at times.

Was it so hard to love one’s daughter?

He took a step closer.

“I did it! A crow! Just like Matriarch Vanessa!”

Another, and the crow buried his beak in his feathers, sure he was going to get hurt again.

The crow buried his face in Avaline’s chest as the grey lady yelled, and the red girl’s woodpecker was taken away.

Raum knelt down in front of the cage, putting his hand on the table—(careful not to touch the blood sigil).

“Well, hello there.” Raum said softly. “You must be Beau.”

The crow peeked an eye out from behind his wing to look at him. Raum tried to smile, though his brow was still creased, his ears still down.

“My name is Raum. You may have noticed I’m a demon too.” He smiled more genuinely. “Avaline summoned me.”

He began to lift his head.

Beau snuggled up to Avaline, and she was warm, and gentle, and he would never leave her side.

“A-Avaline?”

“Yes. I’m here to rescue you, as per her wish.”

“R-Rescue?” His head was fully lifted now.

Raum snapped his fingers and the crow was in his hand.

“Rescue.” He confirmed.

Beau looked around at his new surroundings, without the bars surrounding his view, then up at Raum with big eyes, cocking his head to the side, unsure.

“I promise I don’t eat crows.” Raum put a finger to his chin. “I feel like that’s cannibalism in your case, so, yeah, I won’t be doing that.

“You’ll be hanging out with me for a little while.” He petted Beau’s head with the back of his finger. “I hope it won’t be too boring. In fact, we might even have fun together.” His ears perked up.

Beau shifted, beginning to stand up on his palm, his head cocking to one side, then the other, as his scrutinized Raum’s face.

The crow cast his gaze at the door.

“Avaline.” He cawed softly. “Avaline hurt.”

Raum’s expression fell.

“You rescue Avaline too?”

“I want to…But she only wished for me to free you, and for the truth.”

He hung his head.

“Want to help.”

“Me too. But we’re doing what we can. You are helping, Beau. More than anything what Avaline needs right now is friends like you, who care about her. She will feel much much better once you’re okay.”

Beau looked back at other demon, the uncertainty beginning to fade from his eyes.

“I promise, no one’s going to hurt you on my watch…Nor Avaline, as much as I can help it.”

#muted #muted webtoon #avaline severin #raum #muted webcomic #athalie severin #raum muted #muted raum #avaline muted #muted avaline #athalie muted #muted athalie #drawlloween #inktober #mabs drawlloween club #spooktober #muted fanfiction #webtoon #webcomic #miranda mundt #beau muted #muted beau #muted fic #muted fanfic #inktober 2020 #drawlloween 2020 #mabs drawlloween club 2020 #familiar #angst #canon abuse

[kyber-kisses]

Too Soon (Part 2)

Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: character death, Sad!Dean, season 14 spoilers, it’s also way longer than part 1

Summary: After the readers sudden demise, Dean finds out the truth about what happened to you.

A/n: god I love angst! I have had so much fun writing this!( and crying) and I hope you guys are liking it as much as I am!)

“Okay, alright we don’t know what happened here.” Dean huffed, stalking across the cabin. His eyes fell on the charred body of Nick, but only for a moment before he tore them away again. He couldn’t take this. He needed to know where you were. His best friend was missing and he had no idea what the next course of action was.

A moment later the slam of the heavy wooden door announced Cas’s arrival, making both brothers turn their heads in unison.

“You got anything on Jack?” Sam questioned, the Angel only shaking his head in defeat.

“Did you find anything?”

Sam looked over at Dean, his brothers back turned towards them as he looked out the cracked glass of the window. He clearly wasn't coping well that was for sure.

“There’s a blast site around back- it could have been Nick. He was trying to bring Lucifer back.” Sam tried, his eyes still focused on Dean.

“Yeah but Jack said-“ Cas attempted to step in but the older Winchesters anger was being fueled by fear which just made him lash out even more.

“Who cares what Jack said! I swear- I swear if he did something to her...” Dean sucked in a lungful of air, trying to fill his chest as much as he could. “If she is-“ he couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence before he was turning around again. Cas and Sam fell silent. Dean was scared and he had every right to be.

The silence between the three was broken by the shrill ring of a phone going off. Sam dove his hands into his jacket pocket, fishing out his cell.

“Who is it?” Deans voice was thickly laced in panic as he spun around, eyes wide as he waited for a response.

“Rowena.”

Sam pressed his thumb against the screen, Rowena's voice cutting through the tense atmosphere in the tiny cabin.

“I did what you asked Samuel. I used scrying magic on the boy, tried to find him. But his energy- it’s too unstable.” Rowena sighed, which only made Deans shoulders tense that much more.

“What about Y/N?” Sam questioned, eyes wandering back to his brother. The other end of the line fell eerily silent, which only made the hunters heart beat quicken.

“Just say it Rowena!”

“. . . I don’t know what happened, or where she is. . . But I can tell you with certainty; Y/N Y/L/N is no longer on this earth.”

Deans eyes closed shut as he took a deep breathe. This was just a nightmare, all he had to do was wake up. He paid no attention to the tears gathering in his brothers eyes or the pained expression on Cas’s features.

This wasn’t real. It wasn’t. It couldn’t be.

The only sound Dean could hear was the loud drum like rhythm of his heart pounding against his ear drums. That’s when all the pain and anger boiled up and he was picking up the nearest chair and smashing it full force into the wall. When it was nothing but a pile of splinters he sank to the floor. Sam’s voice quaked as he forced himself to hold back tears.

“What do we do now?”

Deans eyes had a fierce blaze to them as he zoned out, yet somehow they were still mixed with grief. “What we always do. We fight. To bring her back.” He stood up, walking back to his brother and Cas. “Rowena. She has the book of the damned. She’s resurrected herself more times than we can count.”

Cas was afraid to speak up but at this point he had no other choice.

“How? We don’t even know where Y/N is.”

“Then go to Heaven and find her!” Dean snapped as he turned to the angel, a fire still burning in his eyes. He then turned to Sam before stalking towards the door. “call Rowena. Tell her we’re on our way.”

And with that he was gone.

*. *. *. *.

“We should have known. Goddammit, we should have known!” Dean yelled, dragging calloused hands down his face.

Ever since they stepped back into the bunker it didn’t feel right. Your absence made everything feel colder. Lifeless even. And the truth was that it was making Dean break even more. All your stuff was still here, but you? You were gone.

. . .and you might not be coming back.

“We knew Jack was dangerous. We always knew.” Sam urged, leaning forward in his chair. “Long before he killed Michael. You more than anyone. From the very beginning you knew. But we fell for him, Y/N included, because he had a good heart. A good soul.” Sam paused, watching his brother pace across the floor of the library. “He became our family.”

Sam couldn’t tell, but Dean was fighting hard to hold back tears as he shook his head, his mind to occupied with thoughts of you. He didn't like showing vulnerability around others, even if it was his brother. But the thought of you was making that task difficult. 

You and your dorky smile and contagious laugh, and your innate ability to always tell if something was wrong and be able to fix it. He should have told you years ago how he felt, but he had never been in love before, so how the hell was he supposed to act on it? He didn’t have the first clue. You were the only woman to ever make him fall silent. The only woman to ever make him weak in the knees. The only woman to ever completely capture his heart and make him feel emotions he never had before. You were it for him.

And now he was too late.

“You know, Y/N was always talking about you.” Sam started, pulling Dean back to reality. “ Whenever you weren’t around or just weren’t in the room, she would just smile and talk about old memories and how lucky she was to know you.” Deans eyes drifted back to his brother in confusion.

“What?”

“Yeah, but the real kicker was when you would come back. It was easy to see the change in her demeanor. Her eyes would brighten even more, and she would sit a little straighter. Her smile would grow bigger too.” Sam chuckled, leaning back in the chair. “ she was smitten with you. Hell, even Jack could sense the difference.”

Dean let out a huff, leaning back against the table.” I can’t believe I was so blind. I should have said something a long time ago.” Dean paused, turning his attention towards his palms.” I loved her Sam. God, I loved her more than I thought possible.”

“I know Dean.”

*. *. *. *

Another day had passed before either brother heard anything. It was unexpected when Rowena called again, voice distraught and slightly out of breathe. The only thing she needed to say to get the boys moving was that Jack was planning on bringing you back, and whatever he did- would not end good.

The last place Dean wanted to be right now was back at the cabin. The fucking cabin where he found out the horrible, painful truth. But the grief had been pushed to the back of his mind at the moment. All he felt was anger. White hot anger. As they got closer to the cabin the shutter of the engine pulled Deans thoughts.

“What the hell?” He let go of the steering wheel as the impala puttered to a stop. He shared a look with Sam before jumping out of the car.

“Um...Dean?”

“God, now what Sam?” Dean sighed turning around once more. He followed Sam’s gaze towards the sky above. Black storm clouds formed overhead, a deep purple cracking within it.

It was clear that it was definitely not a natural storm.

It had to be Jack. It was the only possibility. And that was all it took to send Dean running through the undergrowth towards the source, Sam following close behind.

As the brothers rounded the corner of the cabin the storm clouds were gone as quickly as they had come, as they came towards the blast sight Sam’s steps faltered.

“Jack?”

The young nephilim turned toward them, a deep look of worry and guilt flashing in his eyes. Dean wasn’t sure yet if he wanted to kill him or not. All he knew was that he was in pain. It was only a second later though when he glimpsed the form behind Jack, and then his heart plummeted. No. No.

“It didn’t work.” Jack breathed, sharing one last look with them before disappearing.

“No. No. No.” Deans voice was urgent as he rushed forwards toward the still figure on the ground. Sinking to the ashy earth he put an arm around your limp body, pulling you to his chest.

“Y/N, y/n.” He pressed a palm to your face, brushing away the hair from your cheeks, hoping, praying that his voice would bring you back. He could feel the burn of tears forming in his eyes as he looked down at you. You looked so peaceful, almost like you were asleep. But you weren’t. Your skin was cold and your chest was still. There was no life in you.

Dean looked down at you with a smile, eyes taking in every inch of your face. You looked happy even in your sleep. The rumble of the impalas engine had a way of putting you to sleep, and this time you had fallen asleep on his shoulder, every once in awhile nestling deeper into his jacket. He wished you could look this happy all the time. That he could be the one to make you happy. Maybe one day. One day.

Dean held back his tears as he pulled you further into his arms, trying desperately to not let the tears to spill over, because he knew that if they did, they wouldn’t stop. Sam knelt down besides him, but he couldn’t bring himself to look away from you. He was afraid that if he did you might disappear and he couldn’t risk that.

“Y/N please. Please.” He mumbled, closing his eyes and pressing his lips against your hairline.

*. *. *.

Dean had built more pyers in his lifetime than he cared to admit, but this one--this one was by far the hardest he had ever had to build. Even with the help of Sam and Cas it felt like he was moving through cement. It was almost too much for him to take.

But the worst part came when he knelt besides your body, willing every muscle in his own to move as he wrapped you gently and carefully in a sheet. He had to stop several time to take a breath. Steady himself in the sea of grief he found himself in. The waters continuously rising.

Sam offered to help carry you to the pyre but Dean insisted on doing it alone, an excuse to just be as close to you as possible before the flames took you from him. His beautiful Y/N, reduce to nothing but ash and smoke. The thoughts made his insides turn.

As the trio stood before pyre, matches in hand, Dean dug into his pocket, pulling out a single photograph. The edges were worn and it had slightly lost it color but that didn’t matter. He had an extra tucked safely away in the impala.

Within the photograph was a smiling portrait of you. Your eyes were wrinkled shut as a bright grin took up your features. It had been windy on the day it was taken, your hair blowing about your face, the sun splitting through it and almost giving it a golden like outline. Your head was tilted slightly down, presumably laughing at something Dean had said. It was a good picture. Probably his favorite of you.

Dean stepped forward, placing the picture on the pyre.

“See you on the other side Sweetheart.”

And with that, the matches where lit and thrown forth, bringing the flames skyward to wrap around your body.

*. *. *. *

It had been two days since they burned your body and Dean hadn't slept a wink. He spent the nights wandering the halls of the bunker, occasionally stopping in front of your bedroom door and pausing. He never went in though, because he knew that if he did it would still seem like you were there. Your bed would still be unmade and your desk would still be full of nick-nacks. Your laundry would still be piled up in a basket in the corner. Even the smallest things made Deans heart sink.

Now the older Winchester sat in the war room, watching as Sam pulled the phone away from his ear, hanging up with Rowena.

“What did she say?”

Sam’s eyes grew sad as he looked over at his brother, who was currently sporting bags under his own eyes and an emotionless expression

“She said what Jack brought back was um- was just a husk. Incapable of holding life were her exact words.”

Deans stomach turned again as his nails gripped into the arms of the chair.

Incapable of holding life

That should have never been a way of describing you. Not his Y/N who was always filled with life and laughter even on the darker days. You were always moving. Always thriving. You used to dance around the bunker in your pajamas and sing terribly off key to Boston. That was you. You weren’t a husk.

Incapable of holding life

“I’m gonna go out on a beer run.” Dean stated quickly. Pushing himself up from his chair The hunter quietly slid on his jacket and made his way up the stairs before anyone could stop him, disappearing into the dark.

If anyone had followed him, he knew that they would be able to tell he had been lying. He didn’t move toward the impala. Instead he trekked his way through the trees surrounding the bunker. He didn’t make it far before sinking down to sit on an old fallen tree.

It was there, in the dark and in the cold December air that Dean Winchester let himself break. He sucked in a breath through his teeth before letting the sobs come. Tears flowed hot and steady down his face as his shoulders shook violently.

Dean could take a lot of things, but this? This was something that he had never felt before. There was no point in praying. Chuck was gone. The angels might as well be. For the first time in a very long time, Dean Winchester felt well and truly alone.

Time melted away as he sat there, letting the tears flow freely and the sobs grow louder. Grief sunk it’s hooks deep into him, and it did not let go.

#supernatural #dean winchester #dean x y/n #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester imagine #supernatural x reader #supernatural imagine

[freckled-words]

For The King - Part Eight

Not gonna lie, thanks to a caffeine kick that lasted the majority of the day, I worked on this instead of my actual job. WHOMP WHOMP.

But I’m really happy with the end result, and I’m really eager to see what you guys think!

Edited by @the-wild-ego​

PART ONE / PART TWO / PART THREE / PART FOUR / PART FIVE /  PART SIX / PART SEVEN

The two men were apprehended and brought to the castle’s dungeons.

Upon receiving this news King Phantom abandoned the corpse, giving the guards instructions to dispose of it. He’d gather more information from a body able to speak.

One portal and ten steps, and he was in his dungeon.

The castle dungeon held the kingdom’s murderers, rapists, and arsonists. Rather than keep an entire building separate for these criminals, the King preferred to have them close at hand. For those days when he was feeling particularly bothered and needed someone to take his frustrations out on. 

It used to be he would do so without giving it a second thought, but after some nagging on his servant’s part, he would cast a truth spell on the scum first, and ascertain whether they were rightfully imprisoned.

It was fascinating to learn how many were genuinely the culprit, and how many of them were thrown in as a scapegoat for someone else, or had willingly taken the blame for a friend or family member.

His servant had given him another, more fun suggestion regarding his treatment of prisoners. 

When he found them innocent of their crime, he would make them watch what he did to true guilty criminals. Then he would release them, and encourage them to describe the event in full detail to anyone who would listen. 

As a result, the crime in his kingdom had dropped rather quickly. Many people had made requests to move from his kingdom. It was an enjoyable method of weeding out those that would pollute his land and cause him to listen to more complaints.

The cells held a handful of prisoners at the moment. Some had been around for a few months, and upon his arrival, immediately scurried to the back corner of their enclosure.

The guards in charge of the dungeons, for this shift, bowed and indicated the cell that their new captures had been thrown into.

Walking up to the bars, King Phantom’s brows rose as he saw the condition of the men. One had his arm in a sling, his lower lip was split, and his right eye was nearly swollen shut. The other had his hand bandaged, with purple fingers sticking out, his nose was broken in two places, and a nasty gash was visible on his cheek.

Looking over his shoulder at the guards he asked, “Put up a fight did they?”

The guards exchanged a quick glance with each other, then both gave the slightest shrug of their shoulders.

King Phantom was smirking as he tsked, “Naughty, you know they’re my toys to break.”

The men in the cells shifted, inching themselves further back. 

King Phantom breathed in deep and hummed in pleasure at the smell that reached him, “Afraid are you? Good. You should be. You two unfortunate miscreants are far out of your league. I’ve an idea of who you’re working for, but I’d love to know who you think you’re working for.”

He unfastened the ties to his cloak, and let it drop to the ground. He flicked his finger and the lock on the cell came undone. Pulling open the door, he stepped inside and closed the door behind him. A wave of his hand and all the torches in the dungeon extinguished themselves.

One of the men whimpered. 

A pair of blazing, inhuman, ruby irises peered down at them.

Then, they were both screaming.

*~*~

A woman’s screams ripped you from your sleep.

Irritated, rather than alarmed (screams weren’t uncommon in this castle) you got out of your bed and shuffled over to your bedroom door.

“I swear, if they’ve hired someone new and not given her the proper warning about his Majesty’s transformations, I will skin some people.” 

Opening your door, you peered out and immediately had to duck back inside, avoiding being hit as a man was sent flying past you.

Peaking around the door frame, you felt your stomach clench. The man was dead, three daggers were clustered into his chest right where his heart was.

Looking down the hall in the other direction, you wished more than anything, that you had a means of speaking to the King from any amount of distance. 

At the far end of the hall, a man was single handedly holding his own against four of the guards. He was blocking, parrying, and just….dancing, around them, all while landing lethal hits with his mace. His mace which was drenched in blood, sending spray and splatter onto the walls and floor with each swing.

Going back into your room, you slipped on your boots and grabbed your cloak. You couldn’t stay in your room and just wait for the mad man to continue on his merry way with his slaughtering. 

You cautiously peaked around the frame once more, and nearly succumbed to the instinct to just lock yourself inside your room. The man had brought down two more of the guards and was making quick work of the last two.

‘Where is our fire breathing King when you need him?’ 

You took off down the hall, sending a silent prayer to the Gods for the souls of the guards that were being slain. 

“Yoo hoo! Little servant? Where are you going?! I’d like to have an evening stroll with you!”

The stones of the hall carried the man’s voice to you. The hairs on the back of your neck tingled, as he sounded far too jovial. More concerning, was that he was here, slaughtering people, people that you knew and cared about, because he was after you.

Rounding the corner, you spotted two more guards ushering the servants to the servant’s passage. 

“He’s coming! Go with the servants! We need to get word to the King, now!” You’d never given yourself heirs, you’d never presumed to think you could give others orders just because of your station. Yet there was no time to consider these things. You yelled these orders at the top of your lungs all while you continued to sprint down the hall.

The guards didn’t hesitate to obey. Once the last of the servants fled down the passage, they followed after. 

You continued past the servant’s passage, keeping to the main hall. No one else needed to die if you could keep this unhinged man on your tail.

Practice from being by the King’s side, or sheer luck, sent a shiver down your spine, urging you to duck. 

A dagger flew over your head and into the tapestry on the wall ahead of you. 

“Oh goodie! If you hadn’t moved, I would have been in a lot of trouble ~”

He was closer than you’d anticipated him to be. Did he have magic to move him faster?

Part of you wanted to stay where you were, and confront the man dressed in such gaudy clothes. The smarter, larger part of your brain, kept you running.

~*~*~*

King Phantom gave the blood on his hand an experimental lick, and cringed, “The amount of salt you humans consume is disgusting.”

The two men had given him everything he needed, and in record time. 

Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, he wiped the rest from his hands as he walked towards the door, “Send for the grave keepers to clean this up.”

Another guard, sweaty and breathing hard, toppled through the door, “Your...Majesty, an intruder! In the servant’s wing, he..he’s slaughtering our men, their armor does nothing to protect them!”

King Phantom paused mid-wipe, his mind latching onto the location of the intruder.

The handkerchief burst into flames and crumbled to ashes, “Where is my servant?”

The guard paled, “Th-they sent me to find you, your Majesty.”

“You ....left, my servant? Just left them, with the intruder, who is able to cut through armored guards without any effort?” with each word, King Phantom advanced on the guard, his pupils narrowing into slits.

The guard could only drop to his knees, and bow his head, “They ordered me and another to get the others to safety, Your Majesty! I was obeying their order, as you’d ordered us to do Majesty.”

A touch of ruby energy ebbed from the corner of King Phantom’s mouth as he glared down at the stupid human.

Unfortunately, the imbecile had done as ordered on both counts. Five months ago, out of sheer boredom, King Phantom had given the secret, ironclad ruling, that his servant’s orders were to be obeyed as if they were his own. It was a game to himself, to see if his servant ever noticed. He hadn’t anticipated that his servant would never take such liberties as giving orders on their own.

Of course the one time that they do, it puts their life into jeopardy.

“I will deal with you later. Lock him in the cell!” He snapped this to the two guards behind him.

First he had to go kill this intruder, then he would deal with the idiot.

*~*~*~*

Remus was having the time of his life.

He got to vent out his 'happy' on the guards, and the servants were an absolute joy to send scurrying like mice. 

Then here was his target, lovely little servant that they were, they were doing quite well at dodging his daggers. Contrary to popular belief, Remus isn’t so silly, as to not collect his daggers on the go.

They were beginning to slow down, which was to be expected after running for a solid four minutes without a break. 

‘Stop messing around and bring me the servant!’

Remus’s mustache drooped, disheartened to have his fun cut short. “Party pooper.” He muttered, knowing perfectly well that the spying spell placed on him would allow her Highney to hear this.

“Little Servant ~ We can’t keep playing anymore I’m afraid, but not to worry! I’ll be ever so gentle with you ~” 

Remus lifted his mace and gave it a twist. The mace shrank and reformed, changing into a ripple edged dagger. 

His enchanted boots responded to his will, and sent him dashing faster than he had been. 

He caught up to the servant right as they tried to turn a corner that lead down a set of stairs. His arm went around their waist, and with a tiny flick, he cut an itty bitty line on the back of their wrist. His enchanted weapon had just slipped a potent sleep spell into their bloodstream.

His hold tightened as the fight went out of them, and they began to fall asleep.

A soft, “Majesty” whispering out on their last conscious breath.

“Release my servant at once.”

Remus’ mouth popped into an “Oh” as he looked down to the base of the stairs.

A rather handsome chap was advancing, a ruby aura of power ebbing from his body. His voice had been deep, gurtual, ancient. 

Not scared in the least, Remus dipped and scooped up the servant’s legs to hold them in a princess carry.

“Sorry, Scrumptious Highney, but I’m on delivery duty. And your adorable little friend here is the package. TA TA!” 

Knowing it was there, Remus took a step backwards, through the golden rimmed portal. 

The King leaped from the step, reaching for the portal. His hand barely caught the edge of his servant’s cloak, just as the portal snapped closed, severing the piece of cloth he held from the rest of their cloak. 

#For The King #fanfiction #Remus Sanders #Phantom Battle #Dragon King AU #Part Eight #Platonic Reader x Phantom Battle

[seeksstaronmewni]

Samurai Jack Season 5 in Review: EPISODE XCVI

Things can change greatly when one is open enough to see the truth.

As the episode’s TV spot promoted (as with earlier TV spots for the season in general), it’s time for the Scotsman episode of Season 5! Enough said.

NOW, as the Scotsman proclaimed, “NOW we... CHAAAAAAAAAAAAARGE!!!!!”

This’s the first episode in Season 5 to be rated TV-PG-V (for “moderate” violence), although it’s not really that violent. It clearly could be TV-Y7-FV, but I guess that Cartoon Network is concerned about easily imitable violence such as kicking and punching (unlike Disney Channel/Disney XD), so it may never be TV-Y7 again.

NOTE: Obviously, I started working on this post on Memorial Day of 2020 in honor of our dear Scotsman. Anyway, I’m curious as to what was going on with the Scotsman’s family and what they were plotting, during the time that we’re focusing on Jack and Ashi... but we still have 40 episodes to come until the series is complete. I was too busy or lazy to finish the post before the end of the day or month (for that matter, I was mostly inactive on it for 6 months), but I’m slowly back on it, so WACH’OUT!

We start with Aku’s place... which appears much more barren than it was in EPISODE I. The episode is another Andrews-Tartakovsky duo-boarding. Just the sound of wind, but no mist full of demons for some reason. Perhaps some bombing or missile attack cleared Aku’s yard?

A tank rolls over to the edge of Aku’s yard. A soldier within signals the other tanks to advance with his horn. These tanks are designed by the late and great Chris Reccardi and @heydusty​.

The camera streaks further back to reveal another army of men riding a 20-legged, rhino-like creature, in armor similar to the exterior of the tanks. He signals his army with his horn, too.

How about another army, then?

Signaled by a woman with her bagpipes, she leads her army...

a whole army of women

Talk about girl power... compared to The Powerpuff Girls, which stopped in 2019 and wasn’t nostalgically correct enough for the last 3 seasons anyway.

Whichever one I find most attractive all depends on which hairstyle looks most attractive... like the one in the bottom right corner. Aside from that, they pretty much all look and sound the same.

The sound of wheels grows audible. Who is that man in the wheelchair?

He has a machine gun for his left leg. Slowly, the camera, defocused except on his leg, eases out.

“Ha ha! We found him!”

It is, indeed, the Scotsman. The hype-inducing Scotsman!

And he’s pretty much ready to fight!

Well... except for one thing...

“I take you out for a day of battle, and you’re dressed like you’re goin’ dancin’!”

She’s kind of bashful. Isn’t she, Scotsman?

Flora was apparently out of appropriate uniform... not that it’s the time for dancing, or dance-fighting, however they intended to take Aku down face-to-face. She looks kind of hot, but this’s not the time to be thinking about fashion or a sultry appearance.

“That goes for all of you.”

“Cover yourself!” the Scotsman yells; “You’ll catch your death of cold!” He definitely cares about his daughters--I know not how many he has, but it’s an army’s worth--but I don’t think that they’re really cold at all.

What season is it, anyway?

(Oh, and, for the shot above, Flora has tiny dot eyes X3)

“Now”, the Scotsman proclaims, “we... CHAAAAAAAAAAAAARGE!”

“EYAAAAHHHHH” he shouts excitedly, as Flora drives him into battle.

The Scotsman’s army rolls into battle, firing with some nicely-colored smoke.

*p-powaa-p-p-powaa-powaa-p-powaa-aa*

Yep. There’s that more familiar Universal/Hanna-Barbera explosion, like one would hear in Seasons 1-6 of The Powerpuff Girls, serving as the sole sound effect for this shot and repeating itself. Joel Valentine’s uses of these classic explosions are probably different from those on Sound Ideas’ Universal & H-B sound libraries as these’re cleaner in quality.

The armored creatures apparently shoot some pretty hot snot out of their trunks, leaving us to wonder what this particular animal ultimately is. That classic Anime whistle (kind of sounds like “SHELL SCREAMING WHINE DOWN”) becomes audible as the bunch of hot snot falls toward Aku’s place.

“It seems we are under attack”, Aku overhears. “Under attack?” Aku highlights, beginning to consider use for this opportunity as he slowly stretches his beard. Aku takes a peek at the war through his own kind of TV or something. “Perhaps annihilating this scum will break me out of my...

me-lai-i-i-i-i-se.” Aku streak immediately upward.

Meanwhile, the Scotsman was firing HIS LEG gun... (footage that the last TV spot advertised for the coming of Season 5 in March, well before this episode itself was advertised, also showing the same footage)

Not sure at what HIS LEG gun was firing, since Aku wasn’t out, until...

*bwssss! wb-wb-wb-wb!*

...Aku rockets out of his place...

...trailing blazing fire as he turns into a giant ball...

...bowling his way over all of the tanks. The armored creatures on which 1/3 of the army rides are next!

“You know what?” The Scotsman said, come to his senses. “This was a bad idea! Time to go, girls.” Protective of his many daughters,  the Scotsman knew what to do in such a disastrous moment: “I’ll stall him while you escape.”

“I’m sorry, old man; I think you are lost.”

Just as Aku was about to make the annihilation complete, a voice froze him: “Hold it! You’re not goin’ anywhere, you big buffoon”. Not knowing who this guy was at all, Aku looked down upon him... and he seemed pretty serious, even though he met not this guy before at all.

“The samurai is still out there, inspirin’ people by the thousands!”

“I ain’t lost, y’ tree ogre!” The Scotsman talked back, pushing his insults further and further. “After all these years, you’re powerless against him... afraid to show yourself ‘cause you know he’s out there, and you can’t do anything about it!”

“Ah ha ha! You’re just a big baby! Why don’t you go cry to your mama--”

Aku was not in the mood for being “roasted”.

*wshiiiiiing*

A third of a sword flung out of the explosion.

Aku burned him.

*psst*

Aku burned him good.

Those catchlight-y eyes don’t lie, Flora.

OK; “highlights” would be the more common term.

This’s why I began writing this post on Memorial Day 2020.

When you roast Aku, Aku roasts you back.

“Why did he bring, up, the samurai?”

A relative question: If Aku cares no longer, what else has Aku to do with his life? Must he be evil? Some centuries worth since he started ruling... I guess that the Scotsman was just trying to make Aku upset, when he could speak a better conversation than mostly insult him.

Flora stabs the remainder of the sword into the ground by his ashes. There is some inscription on it that should be interesting to decode. I wonder if there’s an Easter egg in its words...

“I be back--and in me prime, no less!”

BOOM! Souls don’t die! Of course, rather than probably being in Heaven, he’s more of a ghost who’s still able and willing... by Celtic magic, which apparently connects to the inscription on his very sacred sword. “We’ll find Jack” he plots, “and finally defeat that BIG BABY!”

Anyways... one night, probably very far away from wherever Aku’s place is, Ashi was doing some thinking.

She grew up with her mom, who claimed that Aku created everything, but now she met Jack, who told her that Aku had the world ravaged.

Ashi was raised to believe that “The samurai is the poison killing the land”... as if Aku even cared at that point; she never even met Aku. Jack’s wisdom begat conflict in her mind: “If you... let go of (your) hate, you will see the truth.”

At least it’s an otherwise peacful night.

Well. It was.

“I have questions, mother.”

Ashi began to hallucinate (or it was some kind of weird fever dream... I know not) as the moon turned into her mother’s mask. “The samurai sleeps”, she slips through her mouth. “Kill him in his slumber before he wakes!”

“How DARE you?!”

I suppose this’s what comes of wishing for the moon.

Ashi was not ready to act on instinct as this samurai saved her life, but her vision was merciless. She had questions (and had the... moon failed??? Well not the moon, just her mom), and frankly one could question if she or her mother knew who exactly the samurai was and what he looked like. She was apparently secluded from the rest of society and we know little of her life growing up, so of course she’d have questions.

From there, that very island, Ashi’s journey began, and the next morning Jack found a sea dragon to continue the journey.

Although the dolphin chirps act as a faint, echo-y sound in the scene, they stand out as more unique recording than the stereotypical Hollywood Edge recordings one would hear pretty much everywhere else, like in Spongebob or whatever.

The sea dragon submerges into the ocean and makes a giant leap into the sky! Not sure why, but it probably got them closer to land.

ANIME LINES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It might not seem too noticeable, but the animation right here looks a bit... tight/slow-paced or whatever. Korean animation’s been thinning out on ln-betweens since, like 2016 for some reason, but they still put more effort on this Cartoon Network Studios project than most right now.

“I shall not forget your kindness.”

The sea dragon gives him a snort and a roar of... gratitude?

Jack and Ashi finally made it to a bigger land (and probably not just a bigger island). Now where would they go from here?

“Goodbye.”

It looks like Jack was just going to part ways.

I’ll continue working on this post later, preferably/almost daily if not weekly. (I’ve just been very slow mentally and more autistic this year than I ever realized)

#samurai jack #scotsman #the scotsman #chris reccardi #cartoon network studios #cartoon network #hanna-barbera cartoons #hanna barbera cartoons #sara kipin #sheldon vella #stephen destefano #genndy tartakovsky #april 2017 #toonami #adult swim #[as] #[adult swim] #aku #action #ashi #samurai #Celtic magic #memorial day

[kimjongdaely]

Wandering Soul

Greek God!AU

Pairing: Sehun x Reader

Summary: You’re dead. You’re a soul that wanders the Underworld, like many others. But you can’t remember how or why you died, and you desperately want to know.

Your earliest memory is of you waking up in this place.

It was dark.

Cold.

The first thing you saw was a skull staring at you. Bony hands shook you awake, pulled you to your knees and held your hands together.

It was a hazy place, so it was hard to see clearly. The floor was covered in slime and gore, whispers of pain echoing in your ears.

Hands began to form from the slime, reaching out towards you, grabbing you. Their touch was painfully cold, making goosebumps crawl over your skin and a scream rip itself from your throat.

You tried to move, to shake them off but you’re bound. You remember trembling so hard you could barely keep yourself upright.

“Alright, that’s enough.” A silky voice rings and the hands removed themselves from you.

When you lifted your head, you are met with a handsome man. His dark hair and attire contrasts with his pale skin. His eyes are terrifyingly dark, like voids, emotionless and cold. He looks at you analytically, snapping his fingers. Instantly, a skeleton formed by his side, holding out a scroll.

He checked it, finding what you assume is your name on the list. “Hm, right on time I see.” He said simply, waving at the skeleton that was still holding you to bring you away. “Take her away for the Judgement.”

You learn his name, Oh Sehun. The Land of the Living knows him as Hades, the god of the Underworld. King of the Dead.

All souls end up in the Underworld, one way or another. Most souls that arrive are tortured, filled with anger, bitterness, or regret. Most souls that come here never really find rest.

It’s a grueling place. It’s stifling and dark, covered in souls of the dead, bones, ash. The Styx leads to the House of Hades, a place only those invited by Hades himself can enter. It is guarded by Cerberus, the three headed dog.

You are one of those rare souls that have been allowed to enter. Sehun has a fondness for you that he doesn’t have for any other soul. He once said it was simply inexplicable.

“Hello.” You greet Cerberus, rubbing each of his head as it yips in delight. They now recognize you, from your frequent visit. As a soul in the Underworld, you have little to do to pass time. You are eternally bound here, to this cold, glum place.

Inside the House of Hades, it is equally dark. The marble it is made of is black and grey, though the halls block out the moaning and wailing of the bitter souls.

It is the only place in the Underworld that you can consider a sanctuary.

Sehun’s throne room is spacious and grand. When you walk, your footsteps echo and ring. It is lit by blue fire, casting a cool light across the room.

“Sehun?” You call, finding his throne empty. He may be out on his daily patrol, ensuring that no souls leave the Underworld, and no living can enter. Perhaps you have come at a bad time.

You turn to leave, but the fires flare for a second before returning to normal, a signal of his arrival.

“You came.”

You turn, finding Sehun now seated comfortably on his throne, fingers drumming across the armrest. A sly smile plays on his lips as his eyes fall on you, filled with mirth and mischievousness.

“Of course.” You answer, unable to help the smile that grows on your face upon seeing him. “I missed you.”

“Already?” It comes out a laugh. “Even though we saw each other not so long ago?”

“Every time I leave I wish I could already see you again.” You say, making your way towards him, to his warm, welcoming arms.

He holds you against him carefully, balancing you on his lap. He seems pleased by your words. “Is that so?”

He leans down, lips finding yours so naturally. No matter how many times he kisses you, it seems you can never quite get used to it. The warmth, tenderness, softness.

Is it okay for you to be this happy even if you’re dead?

Sehun pulls away, a chuckle falling from his lips as he shakes his head. “What have you done to me?”

You grin, tilting your head as you drop another kiss on his lips, his nose, the tips of his eyelashes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You make me lose my cool.” He mutters, hands sliding down your sides and making you shiver. “I can’t be biased, you know.”

“Hm.” You hum, not really replying because you know he’s biased towards you, no matter how much he hates to admit it. You adjust yourself, placing your legs on either side of him. You hear him inhale sharply, a low growl falling from his lips.

“You’re sly.” He complains. “For a dead soul, you sure are playing dirty.”

“You like me like this.” You retort, wrapping your arms around him and pulling him back towards you, to find his lips once more. You want to get your fill of him so you can last another human day or so without him. You get so lonely when he’s on patrol.

He can’t stay patient when you’re like this. You know this well as he pulls you away, towards his bedroom. His bed is large and comfortable, the only place in the Underworld that is considered so.

When he motions you to go on, you obey without a word, throwing him a sly wink as you do so, watching him roll his eyes at you playfully. He is quick to remove your robe, maneuvering around your body so naturally because he knows you so well. He kisses your neck, mouth hot and welcoming against the icy temperatures of the Underworld.

His hands trail, finding familiar paths across your body, retracing previous steps.

“Your body looks so beautiful against my black.” He whispers against your stomach, going lower as you moan. “You stand out like no other.”

“Mm.” You tug at his dark hair. “Aren’t you the same?”

He chuckles, the vibration making your legs quiver and you throw your head back against the silky sheets.

He pulls back, eyes even darker than before, if possible. You love those eyes, always cool and collected, even in this moment of heat. He flashes you a boyish grin as he leans back, looking so incredibly relaxed. He holds out his hand for you. “Come.”

You obey, hands trailing up his bare chest to rest on his shoulders as you position yourself accordingly, lips finding their way back to his.

His finger trails down your spine, his lips caressing your forehead. You sigh in contentment, snuggling closer to his warmth.

“Sehun?”

“Hm?”

“How did I die?”

You feel his body stiffen almost immediately, his hand halting its movements. He takes a moment to recollect himself, his voice low and cold when he asks, “Why do you ask?”

“I simply want to know.” You answer tracing circles across his chest. “I have no memory of when I was alive. I know we’re not supposed to know…but I’m curious. Why can’t we know?”

“Do not ask any further.” He turns away from you, suddenly very distant as he rises, pulling on his robe.

“Sehun!” You panic, wrapping your arms around his waist and pulling him back towards you. “Why not?”

“Enough!” He hollers, eyes suddenly ablaze and the fire that lights the room spikes. You flinch, having never seen him so worked up before. “If I say do not ask, do not ask.”

“I—” You pause, searching his eyes but finding nothing. You sigh. “Okay.”

He removes himself from you and disappears down the hall.

Why? Why can’t you know?

It’s been haunting you ever since that day, and you simply cannot get the idea out of your head. No other soul knows about their life before their death, despite how many souls cling to feelings of betrayal or regret. What they cling to is simply a fragment that was left behind from when they were alive, they carry no real memory.

Sehun knows how each soul has died. It is part of his job, to regulate the Cycle of Life and to oversee the Judging of souls. Only he knows. But why does he refuse so much to tell you?

But…maybe…

No. It’s ridiculous, you can’t possibly…

But if you were to go back to the Land of the Living, wouldn’t you remember something? Would that world up there trigger a memory? Where did you come from, who was your family? You want to know.

How did you end up here?

Souls are forbidden from leaving the Underworld. You know Sehun regulates this strictly.

But if you were to put Cerberus, who guards the gate, to sleep…then you would have the chance to sneak out.

You’ll be back before he even knows it. You just want to take a peak.

You enter the House of Hades when Sehun is out. You know he has a flute somewhere, for training or a means of emergency in case Cerberus ever goes out of control. You’ve seen him use it only once.

You find it in the archives, filled with records of the dead, but it cannot be read by anyone other than Sehun. It would have been much easier if you could read it, but you suppose this will do. You just have to be quick and slick.

You clutch the flute as you hurry back out. You must do this before Sehun gets back.

Cerberus is guarding the gates accordingly, and you play a simple tune on the flute, lulling him to sleep. It doesn’t take you too long before he’s snoring at your feet.

Feeling triumphant, you crack open the gates just enough for you to slip out.

You’re almost there—

A great force pulls you back as the gates slam shut. Cerberus growls, fangs snapping at you and when you look a little higher…

You feel panic kick in.

Sehun is glowering down at you, eyes blazing with anger and a deep scowl on his face. You’ve never seen him this angry before, not even when you asked him about your death.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He roars, the sound making you cower.

“I-I wanted…” You bow, trembling. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, please forgive me.”

“Cerberus.” Sehun snaps at his dog. “Double your attention. And you guys,” he snaps his fingers, summoning several skeletons. “Take her away, lock her up. This one needs to be punished.”

You don’t know how long you’ve been locked up. This place is darker and smaller than any place you’ve been to in the Underworld, and it’s making you claustrophobic, scared. You didn’t know a dead soul could feel this way.

After what feels like eons, your prison door unlocks to reveal Sehun, still looking displeased as he narrows his eyes on you.

“You,” he seethes out, “did you really think you could leave?”

“I’m sorry.” You whisper.

“You betrayed my trust.” His words come out cold, but laced with unmistakable hurt. “I was wrong to be biased.”

“No!” You beg, curling yourself at his legs. “Please, I’m sorry. I just…I want to know. I want to know what my life was like, why I ended up here. Please don’t be angry.”

Sehun inhales sharply, exhaling almost as if he’s been defeated. He crouches, touching you gently, caressing your cheek. His eyes look sad, pained. “You can’t know. If you knew, your soul would break and you would disappear.”

“W-What?” Your eyes widen at the idea.

“Knowing your life will break your soul.” He repeats. “It has happened countless times before. Now, I will guard and refuse this information from anyone.”

You’ve never heard of such a thing before. For a soul to break and disappear…what a terrifying thought. You’re already dead. To think that you could perhaps die a second time…

But you want to know. No matter how much you’re scared, the feeling just cannot be shaken away. Even if you have to risk your soul, your very existence, you still wish to know. “I want to know.”

Sehun looks taken aback, “What?”

“Please tell me.” You say, tightening your hold on his robe. “I won’t break. So please, tell me.”

“You’ll break.” He whispers.

“I won’t.”

“You will!” He yells out, his voice filled with so much raw emotion you’ve never heard him express before. “You’ll break and disappear and I can’t let that happen!” He’s trembling, eyes filled with so much fear. “I can’t let that happen. Not to you.”

Oh.

He’s scared.

He’s even more scared than you, because all these years…these hundreds upon thousands of years that he’s been guarding the Underworld…he has always, always been lonely.

All these souls…all these people…and yet he must always stay level-headed and judge objectively.

You were the first he ever loved, and he can’t bear to lose you.

You find yourself smiling. You hold his cheek, holding him close to you. “I won’t break.”

It’s a promise.

He looks like he might be the one to break. He searches your eyes, hoping for you to change your mind, but you stay strong.

How could you be yourself if you don’t know your own life?

“It’ll hurt.” He says. “It’s better not to know something like that.”

“I know.” You whisper. “But I’m not me unless I know.”

You don’t want to be a lost, wandering soul anymore.

He sighs, finally giving in. He presses his forehead against yours, and memories begin to flood into you.

You watch your life play out before you like a movie. Foreign scenes, feelings…yet they’re not so foreign after all. An overwhelming sense of nostalgia fills you.

And then…

A scream.

A knife.

A wicked smile.

You were murdered. 

You keep hearing screams. You realize you’re the one screaming. Your memory is chaotic, so it’s hard to really see what’s going on. Pain erupts in your chest. You see red. Then you feel it in your neck and you gasp, choking.

“That’s enough.” Sehun pulls away, holding you steady. His voice is filled with panic. “You can’t handle it. I told you!”

Your head is spinning. Everything hurts. It hurts so much…so scared…you died all alone, broken and mangled and bleeding. You can’t stop the trembling, the fear, the panic. You can’t think, can’t focus on him, can’t calm down.

“Please stay with me.” He keeps whispering. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

And then the world fades to black.

You understand now. You were murdered by a group of thieves that had invaded your town. You remember the terror when you met them, having known they were famous for murder and stealing anything with value. They were a vicious group.

But you had died because you tried to stop them. You tried to protect your friends and family, and in turn you were killed.

That’s who you are.

You wake up to find yourself in Sehun’s bed. It’s warm and comfortable, but there’s an ache in your chest.

“You’re finally awake.” Sehun is there by your bedside, looking restless. “Thank goodness.”

“I…” You hold out your hands, finding your body different. You feel lighter somehow, yet strangely grounded. “I’m okay.”

“Are you sure?” He asks worriedly. “You don’t feel weird? Does it hurt anywhere? Do you feel unwell?”

“I’m dead.” You murmur. “I’m really dead.”

Sehun looks too pale, looking as if the world is going to end. You can’t help but laugh at that. “Sehun, I’m fine. Really. I don’t hurt anywhere, I don’t feel unwell. I do feel…different. Like the reality has finally sunken in. I saw myself die. I know who I am, what had happened. I feel complete.”

You wrap your arms around him, pressing a kiss on his lips. “I was scared when I remembered. It was so scary, but it doesn’t hurt anymore. I’m actually glad that I got to come here, to be with you, Sehun.”

You hold him tight, and he reciprocates immediately. “I love you.”

A/N: I just really felt like writing this. I hope you enjoyed it! I’d love to hear from you~

©kimjongdaely

Request and let’s love!

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[nalufever]

You and Me

What sort of trouble can some walking and a bit of camping get one dragon slayer and one celestial mage into? Truth be told - lots. Adventure can be fighting bandits, solving a mystery, or simply admitting your feelings. Natsu and Lucy are in for the adventure of their lives. My entry for the 2019 @nalu-week , all prompts in one story. Fluffy but rated teen for some light cursing.

Natsu gave Lucy one of his patented looks of misery and she sighed, defeated. Instantly. All it took was a woebegone expression; the one where he emulated a freshly kicked puppy. Dammit. He knew exactly how to push her buttons.

She threw her hands in the air, exclaiming, “Fine! You win! No train, no cart - just you and me on the road!”

“Yosh!” Natsu’s green hue disappeared. “I told Happy you’d cave.”

Happy flew a lazy loop-the-loop over Lucy’s head. “Lushi always caves!”

A wicked smile on her lips, Lucy stood with her hands on her hips. “Speaking of Happy…”

“He’ll love camping out and -” Natsu stopped talking, Lucy was wagging a finger in front of his nose.

“No, just you and me, and you already agreed. A dragon slayer never goes back on his word.”

“You’re being weird about this.” Natsu pointed to the massive pile of luggage at Lucy’s feet. “You’re telling me you’re gonna haul around all that without an extra pair of hands?” He smirked. “You shoulda resisted that dumb Heart Kreuz sale.”

“Blasphemy!” Erza conjured a dozen swords and then reconsidered. Natsu had slandered her absolute favourite brand in all Fiore. Heart Kreuz. Eighty-eight more swords popped into existence, glinting in the noon sun, showing off razor sharp edges. “You take that back!”

“Easy, Erza!” Lucy spoke softly to the swordswoman but did nothing else to restrain her. “Natsu doesn’t understand great fashion.”

“Yeah, he’s an idiot.” Gray scoffed, not even trying a little to hide his look of derision. “Case in point, what’s he wearing? His ever-present scarf, a vest, off-white pants, and a stupid grin.”

“Better clothes than you,” Natsu shot back, “and way more, you naked popsicle princess. And I’m wearing sandals.”

“Goddammit.” Gray sighed and grumbled, “My train ticket is in my pants pocket!”

“I’ll make sure your luggage makes it back to Magnolia, Lucy.” Erza clapped one hand on Gray’s shoulder, making him tremble. “Find your clothes, fast. The train leaves soon.”

“Yes’m!” Gray sprinted away.

“Excellent! Everything is settled.” Erza vanished her swords back into her requip space. “See you two later.”

Lucy dug into her pile of belongings and pulled out her overnight bag, took a few things out of some of her other luggage and repacked quickly.

Lucy smiled and gave Natsu a thumbs up. “I’m ready, let’s get on the road.”

><><><><><

Lucy lost her easy grin somewhere between the third and fourth time she had to fish out a pebble from her sandals. It wasn’t only that - Natsu was dreaming out loud about what he wanted to eat and now her stomach was rumbling. Even so, all in all, Lucy had it good. Natsu was carrying both bedrolls and the majority of the camping equipment.

“If we hurry, we’ll reach Iris Village before sundown.” Lucy interrupted Natsu’s listing of delicious foods. “And while sleeping in the great outdoors is super fun, it looks like it might rain.” The clouds overhead darkened further and thunder rumbled. A lone raindrop struck Lucy’s nose; the wind picked up, the temperature dropped and more rain pelted the mages. “Greaaaaaat.”

“Yeah, I love a good storm.” Natsu lifted his face to the sky and sighed. “I’d trade every train ride in the world for this.”

Lucy glowered. “I wouldn’t.”

“It’s not just not having motion sickness, Luce.” Natsu turned to give his partner a single-fanged grin. “I like being alone with you too.”

A wild thumping inside her chest made Lucy self-conscious. How could Natsu say something so sweet? Gah! How should she respond? Thanks? That would be dumb. Oh, he wasn’t paying attention to her anymore. The moment was gone.

Natsu ran ahead a bit and then stopped in the middle of the road and sniffed the air. He turned to the left and to the right, searching for something. “C'mon Luce! There’s meat grilling up ahead - and it’s greasy. Exactly how you like it!”

Lucy scowled. “Hey! I do not!”

Natsu jogged back and grabbed her hand. “Don’t worry about being a weirdo. I like you the way you are.”

Caught between the urge to wail ‘I am not a weirdo’ and blush because Natsu had said he liked her, Lucy allowed him to tow her down the path. They ran, whooping in the rain.

Natsu’s nose led them to a hut made of rough-hewn logs with a thatched roof. On both sides of the front door grew a collection of unique flowers - with no two alike in shape or hue and a few that seemed stunted compared to most which were easily as tall as Natsu. Even stranger, there was a woman wearing a voluminous and heavy cloak tended a blazing grill. “Can I help you dears?”

“Do you have any extra meat?” Natsu ignored Lucy’s unsubtle elbow to the gut and continued talking. “It smells so good!”

“I’m Lucy and this,-” she pointed at Natsu, “-is Natsu. His manners are better when he’s not hungry.”

The woman smiled as she flipped the sizzling skewers of meat. “It does smell incredible, doesn’t it?”

“We can pay, if that’s what you’re worried about, we don’t expect you to suffer a loss.” Lucy rubbed her stomach; the aromas were even more delicious than before.

“Oh goodness me! I couldn’t charge…money.”

“Yosh!” Natsu threw an arm around Lucy’s shoulders. “It’s your lucky day.”

“All I require is assistance with an important task.”

Natsu and Lucy exchanged perplexed looks. “Huh?”

“Let me feed you and explain.” The woman smiled, piling a large platter with everything she’d cooked. “I have a bit of prescience and it told me I should grill meat to bring heroes - though I had no idea you’d be such a cute couple! From the amount of food I felt compelled to buy, I was thinking it would be a whole crew of ravenous young men!”

“Natsu’s got a real appetite,” Lucy said, her eyes just daring Natsu to contradict her or add anything.

Happily clueless, Natsu nodded. “And Lucy could out-eat two crews of guys when it comes to greasy meat!”

“Come, sit.” The woman removed her heavy cloak revealing a long purple dress. “Since we’re dining together, I should give my name and learn a little something of yourselves.”

“I’m a dragon slayer and Lucy is a celestial mage!” Natsu threw his arm around Lucy. “She’s the best partner I’ve ever had.”

“I’m the only partner you’ve ever had!”

“Nuh uh! You’re forgetting Happy!”

“I wish I could.” Lucy rolled her eyes. “He’s more of a pest than a partner.”

“I know you’re joking, Luce! You’re just crabby when you’re hungry.”

“That’s so sweet. You two can call me Lavender.” Oblivious to the bickering, she focussed on banking the fire.

“Allow me!” Natsu sucked in the flames, his gut bulging until he turned his head and belched. “Delicious!”

Lucy grinned weakly at Lavender. “Trust me, that was mild.”

“Okay…” Lavender smiled and shrugged. “Follow me, let’s get comfortable on my patio. I’ll explain exactly why I need help for some poor lost souls.”

Natsu and Lucy settled themselves on the patio at a table already set for a dozen people. The flowered tablecloth fluttered at the table edges in the evening breeze as the rain increased. An awning protected them from getting wet - to a degree.

Lavender set the platter down, excusing herself to fetch drinks; upon returning she was amazed to see the giant pile of bones where once had only been grilled meat. “You do have a big appetite.”

Natsu covered his mouth and burped. “And my manners actually improve after eating.” He grinned, leaning forward on his elbow and gave his partner a wink. “Lucy’s a good influence.”

“I don’t know about that.” Lucy rubbed her forehead. “But I’m very curious about this important task.”

“I have the gift of foresight as I mentioned already.” Lavender wrung her hands. “But there are times when I don’t understand what my visions show me until it’s too late.” She sighed, sadness chasing away the tiny smile she’d worn. “This is not my home but another’s; a handsome young man with a dark spirit. He enchanted people into flowers for his own purpose. Why? I do not know.”

“I have a celestial key who’s good with information.” Lucy slipped her hand into her collection of keys and fished out Crux.

“Can’t it wait until I’m done eating?” Natsu complained.

“If you weren’t such a big eater, you’d be done.”

“But this is delicious!”

“My dear, can this key bring knowledge to break their curse?” Lavender wiped away tears with the back of her hand. “I don’t even know if they are still human. I don’t know anything else beyond the last words Ranulf Mershim screamed as he ran away. I defeated him, but can’t do anything about those he harmed and it brings me great sadness.”

“Oh?” Natsu wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Gildarts told me about a guy he knew a long time ago, his name was Ranulf too - but he musta been old. Lavender, you said a young man?”

“Handsome and young.”

Natsu shrugged and turned to beam at Lucy. “It’s a good thing you’re a celestial mage. Crux is real good at finding out anything and everything.”

“No time like the present!” Lucy held Crux’s key high and summoned her helpful spirit. “Open! Gate of the Southern Cross!”

Crux appeared in a big display of sparkles and bowed to his mistress. “How may I assist?”

“We need some information about a curse that has turned some people into flowers.”

“Let me check.” Crux became motionless, appearing to be sleeping, blowing bubbles from his nose.

“While we wait, we should finish eating.” Natsu placed another portion of greasy meat on Lucy’s plate. “You need your strength!”

Lavender sniffed back fresh tears. “You two are so adorable!”

Crux’s eyes suddenly opened and his whole body trembled. “The Flower curse is a powerful curse indeed!”

“But are my friends okay?” Lavender’s gaze swung wildly from Crux to Lucy. “I’ve been taking care of them…” She bit her lip and sniffed back tears. “As best I can…”

Lucy patted Lavender’s hands. “Crux, what can you tell us? Can we free them?”

“They live.” Crux sighed, looking as sorrowful as his weird face allowed. “But to break the curse requires sacrifice.”

Natsu frowned. “Fairy Tail guild members don’t kill.”

“What kind of sacrifice?” Lucy glared at Natsu and then smiled at her spirit. “How exactly were they cursed? That’s always part of the cure.”

“My sources say they failed a trial; tricked with words and an empty promise.” Crux opened his book and flipped pages until it showed a bent, wizened figure carrying a tiny mirror. Natsu, Lucy, and Lavender peered at the picture. “Find the mirror and the magician to release his victims.”

“Uh, you said this Ranulf Mershim was young and handsome, yeah?” Natsu scratched his head and pointed to the illustration. “This guy’s wicked old.”

“Mmmm.” Lucy closed her eyes in concentration. “Curses are always made to steal from people and the caster benefits.” She opened her eyes wide and clutched at Natsu. “You said Gildarts knew a man named Ranulf, but it was a long time ago. What if the curse is to steal vitality and youth from the victims?”

“Okay, so we know who we’re looking for and what he wants to steal.” Natsu pounded his fist into his palm. “But where are we going to find him so I can kick his ass?!”

Lavender took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I didn’t want to admit this, but I have no other choice.”

Lucy, Natsu, and even Crux stared at Lavender in confusion.

“When Ranulf came to Iris village we struck up a friendship that was close in nature to what you two have. Despite our age difference.” She pointed at Natsu and Lucy, smiling weakly. “Or so I thought. He gained my trust, betrayed me and those people planted at the front door of this house.”

“Then you must have an idea of where he would have gone.” Lucy dismissed Crux and put her keys away. “We’ll take on this challenge and do our best to break the curse.”

“You still wish to help?” Lavender somehow looked hopeful and resigned. “Ranulf and I always talked of running away together to the mountains of Avens. I had thought it a joke…” She buried her head in her hands and sobbed.

“That’s not even that far!” Lucy jumped out of her seat. “In the morning, we’ll get an early start.”

><><><><><

After feeding her heroes a hearty breakfast Lavender gave Lucy a packed lunch. She left and returned leading a sturdy packhorse harnessed to a cart. “Fred can ease your journey.”

“No thanks!” Natsu shuddered and rubbed his stomach. “I don’t travel so good on vehicles.”

“It’s true, he gets the worst motion sickness - which is why we were walking back home after our last mission.” Lucy moved next to Natsu and stroked one of his clammy cheeks. “I’d rather we walk than you get sick, you know that.”

“Adorable,” gushed Lavender, “Now what about magic brooms? Can you use those?”

“Do you expect us to sweep our way to Mountain Avens?” Natsu stopped rolling his eyes once Lucy’s elbow made sharp contact with his gut.

“Dear me, no!” Lavender clapped her hands. “These fly!”

“Um, that’s not so good either.” Lucy turned and picked up her bag, slinging it over her shoulder. “Every mode of transportation gives my partner motion sickness.”

“That’s awfully inconvenient.” Lavender wrung her hands. “How do you manage?”

“Compromise.” Natsu shrugged into his backpack and grinned. “We use the train when there’s no other option and with no time constraints, we walk.”

“You mean if I feel sorry for you we walk.” Lucy huffed. “It’ll be faster to not argue and get going.”

“I’m not arguing!”

“If it walks like a duck, quacks like a duck and swims like a duck - it’s a duck!” Lucy responded with ire.

“I don’t know what you’re getting at, but let’s get going.”

Lavender waved at the bickering couple and murmured to herself, “They’re so perfect for each other.”

><><><><><

Natsu and Lucy were high up Mountain Avens by late afternoon. A merchant going the same way had chanced upon them and insisted a dream had told him to give them a ride. With poor grace Natsu had agreed - so in the span of a few hours, they covered the distance that would have otherwise taken a full day.

“You gotta admit, the view sure is something amazing from up here.” Natsu waved grandly after his fulsome praise. “Almost as pretty as you, Luce.”

“Who are you and what have you done with Natsu!?” Lucy pretended mock outrage, going so far as to shake her head and glare at her partner. “Are you getting heat stroke?”

“Nope, don’t be a dope. I’m a fire dragon!” Natsu took hold of one of Lucy’s hands and pulled her close. “And sometimes you forget that, and like all dragons, I work hard to protect my treasure.”

“You get weirder every day.” Lucy scoffed. “We’re here to break a curse and save some poor souls who’ve turned into flowers!”

Suddenly as serious as she’d ever seen him, Natsu gave Lucy a contemplative look. “Treasure is in the eye of the beholder.”

“Such a beautiful notion.”

Lucy whirled around in surprise. She’d thought they were alone - but the male voice interrupting their conversation was loud even if they couldn’t see him.

“More like happiness is a chance you take because you want your own person to treasure. And when the woman of your dreams turns you down, you have to leave town because she can’t stand the sight of you.”

“Who’s there?!” Lucy peered into the dense foliage lining the path up the mountain. “Show yourself!”

“He’s ten meters up ahead and he’s been trying to circle around for the last twenty minutes,” Natsu told Lucy with a casual shrug. “We could’ve stopped but I thought you could use the exercise.”

“Remind me to yell at you later.” Lucy struck Natsu in the chest with one stiffened finger as a warning. “And we’ll be taking the train the rest of the way home just for that comment!”

“Excuse me?” A handsome young man, undoubtedly Ranulf Mershim, stepped out from behind a tree. He smiled and swirled his cape in a bid for attention. “I couldn’t help but overhear your whole conversation, because I was listening on purpose.”

“Tch. Even I know that’s rude.” Natsu crossed his arms and gave Ranulf a challenging look. “It’s best not to admit that sort of thing.”

“Are you trying to befriend this guy right now? Save that for later.” Lucy tapped her foot. “We’re here to save the people you enchanted into flowers.”

“I gathered that.” Ranulf lazily waved his hands in a shooing gesture. “But I’m not about to let you break my mirror. If I live long enough, I’m sure to find another woman I can let my guard down with.”

“Oh, we don’t need your permission.” Natsu cracked his knuckles and moved his body into a relaxed about-to-fight posture. “Me'an'Luce can solve any problem together.”

“That’s oddly sweet, Natsu.” Lucy smiled and approached Ranulf. “We can solve any problem together.”

“Whatcha doin’?”

“We’ll use my brain and your brawn. First, we talk to Ranulf and try to sort this out peaceably - and if that fails, you get to kick his ass.”

“Oh?” Ranulf arched one perfect eyebrow and gave his two opponents a haughty stare. “I’m not going to break the mirror because you ask nicely.”

Lucy shook her head. “Nope, of course not. But I did more research last night and dug up some interesting facts about the Flower Curse.”

Ranulf boasted, “So? I’ve been stealing youth and vitality for decades.”

“And I listened.” Lucy’s smile softened into pity. “You’ve been extending your life to find love. And you’d found her, at Iris village. Lavender. She’s the one, isn’t she?”

“She refused to join me.” Ranulf looked close to tears. His lips thinned, pursed tight and he sighed before speaking again. “I left because I couldn’t bear to add her to the others.”

“You’re not that bad of a bad guy, are you?” Natsu turned to Lucy with a grin. “Tell me you can help him.”

“I can!” Lucy grinned at Natsu. “But he’s going to have to compromise.”

“Compromise? And what do I gain?”

Lucy opened her mouth to answer, but Natsu beat her to the punch. “Uh, we don’t kick your ass for one, and for two, have you not been listening to Lucy? She’s figured out how to help you. Don’t you want to reunite with Lavender?”

“Natsu, I appreciate your support, but Ranulf has to agree on his own.” Lucy touched Natsu’s upper arm and he calmed. “He’s got to really want to be with Lavender.”

“I do, but she refused to join me.” Ranulf pouted. “Together we could have harvested more people and remained young forever.”

“Do you want to keep running?” Lucy shook her head. “She won’t join you, but you could join her if you give up the mirror.”

“What do you mean?” Ranulf frowned but it was more contemplative than angry, and his expression softened with thoughts of the woman he’d left behind. “She's…she’s too far out of my reach.”

“But you love her beyond reason, don’t you?” Natsu addressed his words to Ranulf but the smile on his face was for Lucy. “You’d do anything to keep her happy - so you ran from her and didn’t harvest her friends. Even though your enchantments could have cursed her too.”

“You’re right. Tell me, Lucy, how can I join with my lady love?” Ranulf reached beneath his cloak and withdrew an ornate mirror, and offered it to the celestial mage.

“Keep it.” Lucy flourished Sagittarius’ key and donned the archer’s star dress. From the quiver on her back, she produced a special arrow, notching it to her bow. “I cannot tell you more, but to break the spell, you must be willing to risk all.”

Ranulf gazed into the mirror. He traced the image of his face with one finger and sighed. “I’d rather be dead than alone. What use youth without love?” Now resolute, he squared his shoulders and held the magic mirror over his heart. “I’m ready.”

Lucy pulled the bowstring taut, aiming for the center of the mirror. The arrow glowed and she released. It shimmered as it flew through the air, shattering its target and Ranulf flew backward, collapsing in a heap.

Natsu went running to Ranulf but Lucy shook her head and held him back. “It shouldn’t take long, we’ve got to wait.”

Ghostly glowing forms released from Ranulf’s body. They danced around his still form, joined by more and more spirits until it resembled a writhing cloud. Soon the activity slowed and then it calmed completely, dissipating in a burst of sparkles.

“What a way to lay bare his heart.” Natsu gazed at Lucy, his expression inscrutable. “Did you want me to remind you now or later to yell at me for the exercise comment?”

Lucy gasped instead of answering Natsu. Ranulf was standing, but he seemed to have shrunk. His dark, thick hair had thinned, receding from his forehead - as if in fear, and he’d gained a few decades in the blink of an eye. While the wrinkles didn’t detract from his otherwise still good looks, he was obviously older.

“I’m like how I was before I took up the cursing mirror.” Ranulf examined the backs of his age-spotted hands. “Thank you! Thank you! Thanks to you both!” He smiled and it lit up his blue eyes. “I have to go back to Iris village and talk to Lavender!”

“Start with an apology,” Natsu advised. “End with one too.”

“Go to her and have that talk.” Lucy returned to her normal clothes. “Good luck.”

Natsu and Lucy waved good-bye as Ranulf began to jog down the mountain path, picking up speed and beginning to whistle merrily.

“He wasn’t that bad of a guy. He’s lucky 'cause I coulda kicked his ass so hard!”

Lucy laughed and leaned against Natsu when she ran out of breath. “You never change, do you?”

“Why would I change when I’ve got everything I could ever want, Luce?” Natsu looked around the idyllic mountain path they stood on, the birds singing sweetly - the wind rustling the tree leaves - and back to Lucy’s smile. “It’s you and me. Together.”

Lucy blinked. Natsu was looking at her in a way that made her stomach flutter and knees feel weak. She stood still, uncertain but loathe to break the mood.

“Is it what you want?” Natsu tilted his head a little to the side and nervously bit the corner of his mouth. “Do you feel the same way?”

“You and me…” Lucy nodded, a soft blush colouring her cheeks. “I like the sound of that.”

“Together?”

Lucy licked her lips and Natsu’s eyes were drawn to the motion. Slowly and inexorably Natsu lowered his mouth to Lucy and kissed her. He kissed her with tenderness and restraint. Lucy moaned and clutched Natsu’s shirt; wordlessly begging for more - and Natsu delivered.

Together was a mighty fine way to express 'you and me.’

#nalu-week #fairy tail #nalu #Natsu x Lucy #Natsu #Lucy #You and Me #rated: teen #for some swears #and kissing #all prompts #whole story #nalufever #my writing #fluff

[shauds-archived]

JaySteph Journey? For your table challenge thing?

Here it is, sorry about the wait!

In the old world, most couples didn't need to drive 5 hours to the middle of nowhere just to spend some time together. If THIS world was just a little different, maybe they wouldn't have to either, maybe, if they just keep on driving, they'll find a place they won't have to anymore.

“I have been foiled, the mighty Jason Todd, leader of the notorious and unstoppable Red Hood gang, brought down by the wily Spoiler of dissidents both far and wide. I can only but hope my fate is kinder than that of the Clue-Masters brought to their knees, eradicated years ago, that she will look upon me with a kindness even half equal to her beauty…”

“That you can be quiet so I can drive.” Stephanie kept her features carefully blank, knowing that the rearview mirror put them on full display for the passenger she had behind the clear barrier that separated the driver side of her ricochet from the cramped holding bay.

He grinned at her and pressed up against the barrier, squishing his nose almost flat against his face, it made his voice higher and nasally when he spoke again. “So authoritative, you’re already driving me out here to the middle of this barren wasteland,” when the whole word was a barren wasteland, didn’t that mean anywhere could be the middle? “What other horrors do you have planned for me, oh mighty goddess of the battlefield, come to claim my soul for the glorious afterlife.” That was a new one; he must have gotten into Mister Pennyworth’s books again.

Nothing in sight, but the endless sands and a smattering of rocks suitable for propping up a temporary shelter, lit up by the bright full moon. They hadn't seen so much as a speck of the lighting from Garden or any of the groups that made base around it. The ricochet came to a stop. “Oh no.” Steph said, making eye contact with her ‘prisoner’ for the first time through the mirror. “I forgot to refuel, and not I’m all outta gas.”

Jason let out an over the top gasp, slapping both hands over his gaping mouth. “Out here? Where neither of us can call in for backup and things could happen that no one would ever find out about? How are you going to handle this situation, my…”

“First.” Steph dropped he barrier with the flip of a switch and grabbed the lapels of his unbuttoned jacket in her hands. “I’m gonna make you stop talking.” She pulled him close, swallowing whatever response he’s been about to make by crashing her lips against his, there was only a second’s pause from him before his arms snaked around her waist and he pulled her in close.

***

A couple of hours later and Steph was rotating a couple of the meaty emergency rations over a low burning fire while Jason worked on tying down their shelter for the night. She watched him work, his jacket discarded off to the side so she got a good view of the muscles rippling under his shirt as she positioned big rocks to sandstorm-proof it. It was a lot of effort for just one night.

“You okay?” He asked, nudging a final rock into place, then turning to her with his hands planted on his hips.

“Sure.” Steph turned their dinner over the fire and looked up at him, offering up a smile.

“If you’re worried about it blowing off again, I made sure it won’t happen this time.” He patted the thick tarp of the tent and started towards her, clapping sand off his hands.

“It’s not that.” She scooted aside to allow him a spot by the fire.

“Ah, so not that, but there is something.” He dropped down and pulling Steph against his chest, rested his chin on the crown of her head. “You gonna tell me, or do I have to guess?”

“They’re gonna start getting suspicious,” she sighed and propped up the food, then reached back her arms and laced her fingers behind his neck. “Jason Todd and Stephanie Brown have been caught by, and escaped from each other way too many times, and it’s…” She turned her head into the crook of his shoulder, relaxed into the warmth seeping through his thin shirt. “No one is dumb enough to think the both of us are both dumb and smart enough for that.” If Steph was thinking logically, they had to be suspicious already, probably hadn’t moved against Steph already because her hacked ridealongs seemed to be working.

“Well I ate a weird plant the other day on a dare, so some of my guys would probably disagree with you on that.” Jason huffed, tightened his hold on her with one of the warm smiles he reserved just for her, and Steph remembered why it was she never wanted to think logically with him around.

“You’ve been doing that since I was still riding with my father, it’s what people have come to expect from you, but I am supposed to be the Wily Spoiler, okay, people expect more from me.”

“So we can go our separate ways, spend the rest of our days grieving for what could have been at the bottom of a bottle, wishing if only…”

Steph tugged his head down, further, drawing his attention to her bemused frown. “Really Jay?”

“Well that, or,” he twisted to clasp her face in his hands meet her eyes,” we let them come, a blaze of glory in each other’s arms is a good way to go huh, make out enemies weep for our love.” Yeah, he’d definitely been in the books again.

“You’d love that.” She rolled her eyes and pulled him down to press her lips against his in a quick kiss.

They’d had this conversation before. In the start it was Jason who’d kept bringing it up, offering Steph a place with the Hoods, away from the Garden, and Steph brushing aside his worries, because she wouldn’t leave her mom, it was one thing to leave the Garden, another to do it with the goal of joining a gang. The Gardeners had been very clear on what would happen to anyone Steph was close to if she defected. Now it was Steph who worried, and as much as it sucked being on the other side of it, even she was starting to get, while not exactly apathetic, it just didn’t hold the same weight anymore, not when they never felt safer than when they were alone together, and that? That was kind of scary. All it would take was one little mistake and…

Steph had barely pulled away from her kiss and Jason closed on for another, this one deep enough to necessitate Steph releasing her hold at the back of his neck to grip at his shoulders or risk losing her balance and falling into the sand.

“I’d love anything I did with you.” He said, his lips brushing her ear and making a shiver run down from her neck to the end of her spine. He pulled away and grinned. “But I’ll admit, I’d love it more if we could do it without all this.” He waved out his hand in a motion that encompassed the whole of the barren wastelands likely beyond.

“Yeah.” Steph turned to poke at the food over the fire; just a couple minutes and it would be ready to eat. “Maybe we can convince that Garage to let us make out under one of their bar tables, tell them the long drive makes you cranky.”

Jason chuckled, as he lifted Steph’s hand to stroke his rough thumb across her calloused palm. “Yeah,” he brought it near his lips, but suddenly stopped short, a glint in his eye he only got when he was thinking of doing something really, really, stupid. The last time she’d seen it had less than two weeks before he’d sprayed her with knockout gas and she’d woken with defective ridealongs. “Or…”

“Or what?” Steph stretched out a finger of the hand he held to poke his nose, she loved the way it scrunched up whenever she did that.

“Or we take an even longer drive.” He brushed his lips against her hand, and released it. “A road trip.”

“A what?” Steph brought the hand chest and raised both eyebrows at him.

“It’s a really long drive.”

“I know what a road trip is Jason.” For obvious reasons, no one was stupid enough to take them, but Steph had grown up on literature that banned in the Garden. “I mean why, and to where, just, why?”

”Why not, and the where doesn’t matter.” He moved away from her so there was enough room for him to turn his body to better face her as he talked.“We can just…” he sliced his hand through the air, “go, drive, see what’s out there, no one has to know.”

“Jay, I’m scheduled to be back tomorrow, they’ll send someone after me if they think I up and defected with Garden property.

“You said yourself, you ran out of fuel, maybe there was a sandstorm and you wandered into the Canyons of Clay.” He was smiling, counting something on his fingers in unintelligible murmurs.

Steph wasn’t smiling; there was something too hot, so hot it was sickening, building in the pit of her stomach. It told her that leaving the Garden was an impossibility, if they were already suspicious of Steph, they would never believe it. But. There was a ‘but’, in that Steph’s journey had been meant to take her by the Canyons. Because that would make any checker-uppers pause before considering the checking up on her. Because the Canyons had always been especially touchy about having Gardeners going near them, so touchy it bordered in outright hatred – if something like that could feel those kinds of emotions.

She wasn’t afraid because it was an impossibility, but because there was a chance it could work, because that meant there was hope, and Steph had forgotten about hope when she’d been taken to the Garden, and it was one of those things she hadn't gotten around to relearning yet.

He was still counting, Steph grabbed his hands to stop it and his eyes snapped up to her. “And what about the Hoods, the leader can’t just up and leave.”

“That’s what makes it work, we both drop off, and the Garden’s got no reason to doubt. The guys know I’ve gotten outta worse things, they’ll know I’m fine, and Roy’s better at the day to day leader-ish stuff anyway.” He smile turned a little self-depreciating. “Only reasons they trust me more’s I’ve been with them since I was a kid, he’ll keep em straight if… till, I mean, until I get back.”

It could have worked, dump the tracer in the Canyon’s they wouldn’t bother looking for bodies, and if they searched the gangs, and found neither of them. And, Steph’s mom, as much as she loved her, Crystals ridealongs had only ever been in perfect condition, if Steph just disappeared – aside from those who only really knew her as Spoiler – no one in the Garden was going to miss her all that much.

“How long?” She ran her hands up his forearms. How long would it take for them to stop looking for her, how long could they spend, far from everything they both knew, out where there might have been nothing but sand and mutated Clayface-like things going on until forever for all they knew?

“Long as we can.” He buried both hands in her hair, gently cupping the back of her skull and bringing his lips close to hers. “Long as we need to. It’ll work; go on a road trip with me Sunshine. Please.”

His eyes were bright and earnest, confident as he always was. He believed it would work. Steph believed it could work. It wasn’t impossible, and both of them had pulled off things everyone else had said were beyond impossible.

“If we can find the ruins of that Disneyland place.”

He started, cocked his head at her, either not believing that he’d heard her answer, correctly or giving her a chance to rescind it if she wasn’t sure. Steph just grinned and pulled him on for another kiss, to take in more of his warmth when it ended and almost crushed her in a hug to the tune of the excited laughter that shook his body.

“Yeah, we’re gonna find Disneyland.” He leaned his face into the crook of her neck, his nighttime stubble tickling at her skin. “And our accomplishment will be legend; no one will want to stay in the Garden after we tell them.”

“Our reign shall be just but fair.” Steph nodded and pressed a series of soft kisses along his jaw line.

“Brainwash them with those movies the old people talk about and…” He pulled away from her quickly, and Steph made her disappointment known in the pout she gave him. “Do you smell smoke?”

She did, and it was coming from... she scrambled away from rushing to turn back to the fire. “The food!” She snatched the scorched sticks from the fire, the charred remains of what was supposed to have been the bulk of their dinner sending tendrils of sad, dark smoke up into the heavens as Jason and Stephanie looked on mournfully for a few moments of eternity.

“You know what.” Steph said eventually, and held one of the sticks out to him. “I’m starved, and you eat weird plants, you can handle some burnt meat.”

“I ate one weird plant.” He said, and Steph sent him a flat look. “Fine two, maybe three, but not more than six, depending how you look at it.” He blew over his charcoal on a stick, dispelling some of the smoke before taking a small bite. “It’s not too bad.” He shrugged.

“I don’t think I wanna know how you look at it.” Steph rolled her eyes and settled against him again, her back pressed against his chest, and he wrapped his free arm around her. She took a small bite, careful not to burn her mouth. No, the food wasn’t bad, but then, she could love anything she did with him.

#Asks #anon #Jason Todd #Stephanie brown #jaysteph #fanfiction #mine

[every-day-is-the-gospel-tru-blog]

Song of Solomon 8:6

"Place me like a seal over your heart, like a seal on your arm; for love is as strong as death, its jealousy unyielding as the grave. It burns like blazing fire, like a mighty flame. Many waters cannot quench love; rivers cannot sweep it away. If one were to give all the wealth of one’s house for love, it would be utterly scorned."

So recently, I’ve found God for the first time in many years, since I was like eleven. So, I’ve not believed or had anything to do with Christianity because I felt that all the trauma that happened in my life was God’s fault, that He didn’t really love me and that He wanted me to suffer greatly. I thought, “If that’s God’s plan, He must really hate me.” 

When I was around three until I was ten or eleven, I went to a private Catholic school. While I was there, I was bullied really badly. I’m bisexual, and I feel like the other people in the school knew before I did, which was very confusing for me. They did horrible things- they wrote me hate notes, wrote tons of rude or hurtful things on my locker, destroyed my artwork, and said rude things about my appearance that still affect me to this day. 

I was going through a rough period at that time of my life. I was being sexually abused. My dad started to have mental health issues, and started beating me for small things that made him really angry (and were mostly things I couldn’t change for him.) On top of that, my brother was fighting drug and alcohol addiction. So yes, that was all really tough for me.

My mom took me out of the school and placed me into public school in sixth grade. While I was grateful that I was away from everyone there, I was starting over. I didn’t have friends at all. And then the popular group adopted me into their clique. I was thrown in a new world of makeup, fashion, hair, and boys. And while I didn’t understand it, I wanted friends so much that I didn’t care about the quality of friend they were to me. 

And then, my ‘friend’ told me that I was fat and no one was my friend because I needed to lose weight. I was already really thin, under 90 pounds. So, believing her fully, I stopped eating. I would starve myself until I couldn’t stand the hunger, and then I would only eat one or two Rice Krispies treats, and starve myself again. I lost weight dangerously fast; thirty pounds down, I knew I was going down a dangerous path. And I strayed further from God. 

When I was so dangerously thin, I thought to myself, “I’ve absolutely had it. If this is God’s plan, He must hate me. He isn’t real. He isn’t here with me. He doesn’t exist.” 

So, I stopped praying. I stopped reading the Bible, praising Him, and going to Church, even on Christmas and Easter. I actually threw my Bible out the window! I sold my favorite Christian books, gave away my rosaries, stopped going to my favorite religious camps. 

When I was twelve, I had my first suicide attempt. I had enough; I was empty, I was depressed, I was drinking alcohol so much that I would be getting wasted every single night, waking up and not knowing what happened the night before. I would shoplift, and lie, and cheat, and steal, and drink drink drink. I was a bit of a whore, too, I’m not going to lie; I had sex with various people, trying to fill up this void inside me. But nothing worked. 

I was hospitalized into a mental institution after my suicide attempt, and I met some really nice people who were sick, just like me. I met some good friends. I was in there for a month and a half, and I was so behind in school that it wasn’t even funny. When I got out, I didn’t see a point to anything; I didn’t see the point of going to school, or trying to learn, or even trying graduate high school. I was hurtling down a dark dangerous path, and it still gets darker; hang with me still, guys. 

Then, while I was twelve, I started self harming. I started cutting myself, and buying blades. When I was in school one day, my sleeve rolled up and someone saw my arms, which led to them telling the entire school. And there began my bullying. People would say things that were really horrible, and some people gave me bags of razors and taping them to my locker. Some of them actually gave me a water bottle full of bleach and told me to kill myself. 

I had my second, third, and fourth suicide attempt when I was thirteen. I was institutionalized again. But I didn’t want to get better. I liked the habit; I liked the feeling of bliss it gave me. I liked being able to control something in my life. But I still was so frustrated because I still felt this empty void in my chest. 

When I was fourteen, I was put in a residential treatment facility, which is a hospital but you stay for at least six months. I would still self harm; I would scratch huge gashes all over my body. I would find anything to use to self harm; I even sneaked in contraband. Just so you know, don’t ever do this, because the consequences were that I pushed my discharge date to two months later than the initial plan. 

And when I was fifteen, I relapsed with my alcohol addiction. On top of that, I would throw up after I ate. Every time. Which really was horrible, because my weight fluctuated like crazy and I always felt sick. And my teeth felt fuzzy. All the time. Not fun. 

Skip to when I was seventeen. I was in a new school and met my best friends in the world. I was chain smoking cigarettes; I was still cutting; I was still drinking; I was still angry at the world. At that time, my friend sexually abused me for six months. At school I broke down and told my staff, and they immediately helped me. 

Eighteen, I was still cutting and smoking cigarettes. You know the drill. 

Nineteen, I had been freshly out of an abusive relationship. My heart was broken and tender and colder than ever before. He had warped my vision on life, love, and true existence. 

And then, just a few days ago, I finally just sat down and said, “Lord, I accept You into my life.” And when I finally said that, I felt so much peace and love and acceptance. I felt my heart heal; I felt my soul be healed; my suicidal thoughts and feelings were gone. My urge to self harm is gone. I don’t have that void anymore. 

Now, I wish I had accepted God. I wish I turned to Him earlier. I wish I had Him in my life more. When I prayed that night, I started crying from the remorse, apologizing so much for leaving Him. He is the seal on my arm; He is the seal on my heart. I love you, God. Thank you. 

-Alex

August 28, 2019

#god #jesus christ #christianity #catholicism

[millennial-star-gazer]

The Draconic Demon Within(Reupload from cosmicdragonwizard accounts): Chapter:2

The Draconic Demon Within (Originally for Nalu Lovefest 2017 on previous celestialgeekmage accounts and Angst Week 2015 on Twishadowhunter/teamedwardjace2 in the past and Vera's April 2018 prompt challenge on cosmicdragonwizard account )

Genres: Drama/Angst, Hurt/Comfort,Romance, Friendship/Family New Adult Fanfiction

Vera's April 2018 Prompts: Soul, Empyrean, Savage, Memory, Trust, Fear, Unstoppable , Resilient, Supernatural (Implied) Lost (Implied) and Loathing.

Nalu Lovefest 2017 Prompts: Dreams

Pairing: Nalu/EndLu,( Natsu x Lucy/ E.N.D. x Lucy)

Rating: M for language, steamy and mature adult sexual content (all consensual) in these and future chapters. Reader Direction is advised.(You have been warned!)

Summary: Now faced with the reality of who he is truly is, the son of Igneel must come to terms  with the new  emerging, darker  instincts of his new demonic identity- all while navigating through his ever-growing, intense feelings for a particular celestial wizard. Originally a Submission (semi -au) for Nalu lovefest 2017 (on my previous celestialgeekmage account. (Also was on my earliest previous accounts of teamedwardjace/Twishadowhunter in the past. Also part of Vera's April 2018 prompt challenge from fic-writers appreciation on cosmicdragonwizard)

Chapter 2: Incinerate: A Demon's Protective Rage

A/N: Hey all, here's the next installment of The Draconic Demon Within! It was originally part of what was a longer first chapter, but has since been further revised and divided into more chapters (along with others)— enjoy and don't forget to let me know what you think!

Disclaimer: You know I unfortunately don't own Fairytail which belongs to the most Hiro-sensei instead!

Read More Here:

1. The Draconic Demon Within

A. Tumblr:

Prologue and Chapter: 1 (Click Here:)  or here: (https://millennial-star-gazer.tumblr.com/post/179816192273/the-draconic-demon-within-reupload-from/amp?)

    Chapter:2

Chapter: 3 (Click Here:) (or here: https://millennial-star-gazer.tumblr.com/post/185917542578/the-draconic-demon-within-chapter-3)

Chapter: 4 (Click Here:) (or here: https://millennial-star-gazer.tumblr.com/post/614628807073251328/the-draconic-demon-within-chapter-4-a-demons)

B. Fanfiction (Click Here:) (or here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13113898/1/The-Draconic-Demon-Within-Reupload-from-cosmicdragonwizardaccounts)

C. A03(Click Here:) (or here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17365061/chapters/40861472)

2. Tantric Flames  (To Be Added Later)

3. Grey Days

A. Tumblr  (Click Here:) (or here: https://millennial-star-gazer.tumblr.com/post/179767381833/grey-days-reuploadfrom-dragon-shield-maiden/amp?)

B. Fanfiction  (Click Here:) (or here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13112482/1/Grey-Days-Reupload-from-dragon-shield-maiden)

4. The Rest of My Writing

A. Master Fic Rec Post (Click Here): (or  here: https://millennial-star-gazer.tumblr.com/post/179665258923/master-fic-rec-post

Legend:

Italics: Mainly Flashbacks

Bold: First Person Thoughts

Bolded Italics (Within and Outside Bracket): A/N: (Author's Notes)

"And she's thinking of rage, like an ember or a burning acid swallowing up her knotted viscera. Blindness like the kind that leads men to perpetrate horrors, animal drunkenness, the jungles of the mind. "

(Alden Bell: The Reapers Are The Angels, Reaper Series)

"If you lay a hand on her, I will destroy you.  I will rip your head off with my bare hands and watch you burn in the sun ."

(Dimitri Belikov: Vampire Academy, Book 1)

(What'd you know? Found two quotes that really fit the overall tone of this chapter again)

" You okay Natsu?"

Lucy's gentle call of Natsu's name broke through his reverie bringing his attention back to the present."

"Yeah Luce, just trying to figure out how to wrap my head around all this" came Natsu's reply, sincere words nothing but reassuring. The dragonslayer knew he mostly wasn't one to lie, but also didn't wish to run the of risk alarming his best friend any further than she was .

Besides, I am actually okay—for the most part . Just gotta try and stay positive for Lucy's sake.

Natsu did notice however, that if he concentrated just enough, he could actually will the newly-sprouted leathery wings to retract just enough until they were gone completely— a tremendous relief if nothing to say the least .

"What about you? How are ya ' holding up?"

"Not entirely well, but a bit better with you here . "

"I know, it's a lot to take in right now—believe me. But I promise we're gonna be okay."

"There's not a doubt in my mind but what're we going to do?"

"We'll figure it—"

The sound of approaching footsteps echoing on stone broke through their conversation putting Natsu's senses on high alert. It was then to the realization dawned upon the fire demon that in all the mayhem, he'd forgotten they weren't alone; mentally cursing himself for having let such a critical fact slip his mind. Not to mention the sinking knot in settling the pit of his stomach when it was the demon Tempester, Natsu lifted his head to see striding towards them with a sinister expression; which raised his hackles enough for his lips to pull back revealing a flash of canines in a savage show of teeth.

"What do you think you're doing?!" He growled, a flare of stonecold fury ticking through scarlet eyes, The sound of his warning was downright ferocious, not to mention lethal with the threat of violence if the other etherious even so much as tried to lay a hand on Lucy. "Stay the hell away from us!"

Tempester merely raised a hand in response as if to silence him, clearly not deter any of Natsu's feral growls ripping from his chest.

"Easy there Lord E.N.D— no need to be so hostile" The etherious's voice was seemingly unruffled , a chillingly stark contrast to the malicious smile gracing his lips—so much so it sent off alarm bells off in Natsu's head. "I only wished to officially welcome you to our ranks as Master for which congratulations are in order. You've finally returned home to us, all while starting to realize your true potential in the process—though we didn't know it was you at first. Still, it's good to have you back after being away so long Now allow me to be of service by disposing of the celestial wizard for you as an act of good faith."

The thinly- veiled threat kicked Natsu's already fiercely protective instincts to keep Lucy safe into high-gear, manifesting in another guttural snarl of bestial proportions he let loose when his arms automatically tightened against her of their own accord at the same time.

"Touch her you bastard and I swear I'll burn ya' to a crisp!"

If he even tries anything... I swear to God...

Something strange seemed to stirring within Natsu just then, the infinite possibilities of all the unimaginable amount of the blood he could spill if the other demon didn't heed the warning ; appealing to a darker part of him that was once dormant. His words clearly seemed to fall on deaf ears however, when Tempester took another step forward—which only served to make the dragonslayer's blood boil.

"Hey! didn't you hear what I just said? stay back—don't come any closer!" Natsu hissed, baleful voice laced with venom that bordered on lethal. "Unless you want me to incinerate you you stand." One of his hands not pressed against Lucy's back was immediately engulfed in flames to empathize his point at the same time.

Pretty sure I could quite literally roast this guy if I have to. I'm not afraid to have little blood on my hands if it means protecting Lucy.

The ominous-sounding, residual, voice Natsu heard earlier seemed to stir again ; whispers echoing in the recesses his mind of just how easy it would be to set Tempester blaze, quite literally going up in flames without so much as being touched. Thoughts swimming, tempting Zeref's most powerful etheriouswith sadistic images of sizzling flesh melting off bone, blood vessels rupturing, liquified internal organs being broiled from the inside out until there was nothing left of the worthless lesser demon- scum known as Calamity but a charred pile of ashes. Oh the demon lord thirsted for this bastard's blood, how he's—-

Wait— just what the hell am I thinking?! Natsu railed against himself. I may be a demon, but I'm not some bloodthirsty monster! Butchering people like that ain't my style—not anymore anyway. God... what's wrong with me? Still , I'm gonna keep Lucy safe regardless of who or what I am.

"Master, if you just hand the girl over me I promise to make her death as swift and painless as possible."

Tempester's coldblooded voice snapped the fire wizard out of his reverrie.

"Not a chance ! There's no way in hell that I'm giving Lucy up to you!"

"Oh? Is that you already exercising your authority I hear?" Tempester praised, words pulling the corner of lips up into a smirk as if caught was between genuine amusement and pride. "I'm impressed."

"Yeah? Well that's just too damn bad, cuz I couldn't give a crap bout being your stupid master!"

" Yes, well, you might feel that way now but you'll change your mind— you'll see. It's only a matter of time before you realize who you're truly meant to be and help restore our guild. Not to mention remake this pathetic world in our image."

It was then that Lucy finally opted to speak up who no doubt probably had been watching the tense encounter with uneasy eyes up until this point.

"You're clearly out of your mind if that's what you think Natsu is all about!" She seethed , honey-brown eyes, alight with a obstinate fire. "Don't you dare you talk about Natsu as if you know him! He's not the monster you say he is—not anymore!"

"Oh really? That so, little girl?" Tempester's scoffed , disdain colouring his patronizing tone. " Now tell me— why should I listen to pointless chatter from a pathetic human like you ?

"Cuz she's right,"The son of Igneel's words rang with steely conviction when he chimed in response to the other etherious . "And definitely not pathetic. In fact, hearing you run your god damn rotten mouth about her like that makes me want to help her bash your ugly face in." Hearing Lucy's words of faith was honestly enough for his heart to trill, Tempester's of utter contempt in regards to his best friend for his blood to boil; All in all, steeling his nerves for combat.

"Yeah? I'd sure as hell like to see that!"

"Oh, you will— trust me."

His body automatically steeling himself for battle, Natsu pledged a vow to keep his the celestial mage safe from harm.

No matter what happens, I swear I'm gonna do whatever it takes to protect Lucy and to fight this darker part of me for everyone's sake . I will prove this Calamity bastard who think he knows me wrong, not to mention make everyone I love and care for proud— especially Igneel, Lucy and Happy.

To Be Continued 

Fic tag squad:  @writer-appreciation  @soprana-snap  @phoenix-before-the-flame     @nunnatheinsanegerbil @mautrino @rougescribe @goddesofimortality @phoenix-before-the-flame  @nalufever  @petri808 @thecelestialchick @nalu-natic  @superdomo360 @pyroandtheprincess  @rayhneatess  @nothingbutwordsstuff  @petri808  @thecelestialchick  @chiire  @nalufever @shootingstarssel  @chamilsanya  @rougescribe  @lover-of-the-light117

A/N: That's Chapter 2 folks-hope you all enjoyed and don't forget to leave a review ! The next chapter should be up ASAP once I'm able to begin work on it. In the meantime, feel free to check out my other works including Tantric Flames (with the writing process for Chapter 6 underway). (Respective links above along with the rest of my writing in tumblr post, side bars and bio of my blog of on tumblr . Also on Fanfiction profile of the same name except as MillenialStargazer ). All right y'all, that's all for now! Many thanks to all those who've been supporting me and my writing thus far—stay tuned for more! Peace out!

#Fairytail #FT Fanfic #nalu #natsu x lucy #e.n.d natsu x lucy #natsu dragneel #etherious natsu dragneel #lucy heartfilia #tempester #my writing #reupload #cosmicdragonwizard #please reblog #submit to writer-appreciation #enjoy #millennial-star-gazer #millennial stargazer writes

[captainjetrocketboy]

Carry the Blame [ModestHD Fanfic]

Woah, hey, this is different. I really was not expecting to be so invested in this ship, but things happen right? I saw how little there was for this ship, too, and I was like “Well that’s gotta change”. So, enjoy I guess. A little different from the usual, but it’s good to shake it up once in a while, eh?

From an outsider’s perspective, their job might seem like living the dream. Nearly every day is filled with excitement and adrenaline-pumping action, a gun is always attached somewhere on their person, and to top it all, they’re living on a pile of cash.

At least, that’s what it looks like. Truthfully, they fear for their very lives day to day. It certainly isn’t the dream they were expecting to be living.

Except Aleks, who was always the thrill-seeker of the group. It was as if he couldn’t keep moving forward without a bit of exhilaration during heists. One time, he had tripped an alarm on purpose just so he could get the chance to run away, maybe even shoot his trusty pistol. The others hold this against Aleks, sometimes saying that he’s a liability, but for the most part they let it fly past over their heads. What could they say, Aleks may be reckless, but he’s damn good at his job.

Today was no different. Aleks was eagerly anticipating their next robbery, like he always did. Yet this time, Brett thought it was time to bring in their youngest recruit, Trevor, onto the field. Aleks was rightfully against such an action, but Brett reasoned that it was bound to happen sooner or later.

Aleks would be lying if he said he wasn’t worried for the guy. After all the time put into training, Trevor might be able to pretend like he’s a threat, but he was still an awkward and fragile being. But Aleks knew that this went beyond just Trevor’s safety. It also affected him, on a deeper, personal level.

From the moment the Russian’s heart began to thaw, Aleks started to spend more time with Trevor. More meaningful time, that is, whether it was extra rounds in the weight room, or outside chilling in the night air after a rough day. No matter how much Aleks wanted to deny it, the feelings would never go down. They would never go away. Never leave him alone.

Aleks was in love with Trevor.

But he couldn’t just tell that to him. He couldn’t risk it, not with the kind of life they lead. If they were to become a real thing, then surely heartbreak would follow suit. Either one of them could be dead the next day, and Aleks didn’t think he could handle it. Even so, what if Trevor didn’t like him back? It’s happened before with previous crushes, but those didn’t feel as right as it does now with Trevor. Aleks planned to be upfront about it, but could never go through with it. He would always give himself shit for it; for being a fucking coward that can’t admit anything to their lover.

Despite his protests and troubling thoughts, Aleks was still ready for this mission. It was all going fine until the blaring sirens pierced his eardrums.

“What the fuck?! I thought that Asher and Trevor were keeping a look out!” James shouted, his voice still shrouded by the alarms. “Did you do something stupid again, Aleks?”

Aleks couldn’t give a proper response before Brett cut him off. “C’mon, now isn’t the time! Anna should still be at the getaway spot!” Brett started in a direction, and both James and Aleks tailed behind.

The pit in Aleks’ stomach grew tenfold, and he feared his worst nightmare was coming to fruition. If Asher and Trevor got caught, then that could mean…

The trio bolted through hallway after hallway before they could see their ticket out of here. But what captured Aleks’ eye was the leaning figure against Asher, who was struggling to get them both into the car. Brett, James, and Aleks burst through a window as a shortcut to get to the car, and jumped on as soon as they could. Anna floored it before the door could be shut properly.

Once the adrenaline had settled down amongst the group, Aleks turned to see a sight that he wished he hadn’t. Blood was seeping through Trevor’s shirt and jacket, and his body lied limp on the van’s flooring. His head leaned against Asher’s legs, who was still panting heavily and panicking over the man beside him. Aleks had trouble comprehending what he saw, as if the mere sight caused his mind to short-circuit. His heart shattered into pieces, aching his entire body with guilt and sadness throughout. Tears started to form under his eyes, but he wouldn’t let them fall. Just seeing the love of his life like this was killing him right then and there.

The sharp and sudden breaths of Asher yanked him back to reality. He gritted his teeth and cracked his knuckles as an insurmountable rage burned within him. It blazed like a wildfire, spawning from the darker side of his mind.

“What… What the fuck happened Asher?!” Aleks could hear his molars crack in the back of his mouth. “You were supposed to have his back!”

Asher was caught off-guard. He didn’t expect such a volatile reaction from Aleks of all people. Regardless, he had a look of defeat veiled over his face, showing remorse for what he let happen. “I-I’m sorry, Aleks! I tried, I really did! T-There were too many, but Trevor took out a bunch of ‘em! They got a good shot on him, though, and he passed out before I could get him in the van…”

Aleks glared at the other man. The fire inside him was still burning, but he knew this wasn’t the time nor place to get mad with Asher. A fight over Trevor’s well-being wouldn’t be unjustified, yet Aleks thought it would be suspicious if he were the one to initiate it. Especially knowing his feelings for Trevor were still unknown to everyone. Right now, they needed to get Trevor to a hospital, and fast. Aleks just hoped they would make it to one on time…

Aleks was never a big fan of hospitals. Even after being admitted several times into the same place, he couldn’t get over the unease he experienced. The pale white walls felt constraining, as if they were slowly creeping towards Aleks.

It wasn’t any better this time around. Now he had more than just himself to worry about. The doctors had rushed Trevor to the ER as soon as they got there. Aleks had volunteered to look over Trevor while the others took their spoils to the warehouse, which left him to wait in the lobby alone. It was something Aleks was used to, but he had plenty more running through his head, especially regarding Trevor. He was, quite frankly, scared; terrified of what could happen. It was unnatural for Aleks to have these strong emotions, considering his other friends have been in dozens of similar accidents. But things were different this time. It wasn’t just a friend whose life was dangling on a burning rope; it was Trevor who was on the brink of death. The person that Aleks cared for the most. The person that Aleks had fallen in love with.

Hours went by as the sunlight seeped away from the building interior. Shades of gold and reddish-orange passed over the Russian, who hadn’t shifted from position. The only movement came from his bouncing leg, occasionally switching between the right and left. Suddenly, a pair of nearby doors swung open as two figures made their way into the room. One of them caught Aleks’ attention.

“Aleks! How is everything?” Asher stammered, concern obviously present in his voice. Aleks slowly stood as both him and Anna briskly approached. “We came as soon as we could. Is Trevor-”

The mention of Trevor’s name set a trigger off. Before the other man could say anymore, Aleks quickly reeled a fist back and swung it against Asher’s nose. A scream escaped his mouth as he recoiled back into Anna, who caught him before he could fall to the floor.

“W-What the fuck, Aleks?!”

“What’re you doing here?” Aleks’ words seethed with anger. The blazing inferno from the depths of his soul were rekindled, and it was only a matter of when he’d explode again.

“W-We were worried about Trevor…”

Aleks advanced forward, getting up close to Asher’s now bloodied face. He pointed a finger right on the man’s chest. “Oh yeah, coming from the ass who let this happen in the first place!”

“Aleks, enough!” Anna shouted, wanting to stop things from escalating further. She stood between the two men to shield Asher from any further hits. “Look, I’ve been with you guys for some time now. I’m sure Asher didn’t intend to hurt anyone. I know from experience that these things just happen!”

“But they aren’t supposed to happen to Trevor! The one time that he gets dragged along with us, he fails to do his only fucking job!” Aleks’ voice falters as he backs away, his rage steadily making way for sadness. “Tre-Trevor shouldn’t have gotten hurt. Let alone get fucking shot!”

Asher worked his way around Anna, and cautiously crept up to the teary-eyed Russian. He kept a hand on his nose in a shallow attempt to keep blood from dripping. He stopped when Aleks spoke once again, now sputtering his words.

“I-I know it wasn’t you. It was me who sh-should’ve done more.” He turned around to see Asher within arm’s length. “I’m- I’m sorry…”

Asher took a moment to look stare at the man in front of him before using his free hand to return a punch. It made violent contact with Aleks’ right eye. He didn’t see it coming, and he took several steps back in pain.

“You better be damn sorry.”

Anna silently gasped at the sight, and stood frozen before taking initiative. She grabbed Asher’s arm, the same one that swung at Aleks, and pulled him back. “C’mon. We should do something about your nose.”

With Aleks’ good eye, he could see both of them leave without even looking back. He slumped back into his chair, and rested against the hand cupping his swelling eye. Despite the throbbing pain he felt, Aleks was exhausted after that fight, on top of all the shit that’s happened today. Soon enough, he found himself drifting off to the sound of silence that now hung over him.

The night had brought along with it a chilling wind, but Trevor thought it could take his mind off things. He had just finished a sparring match with Brett, despite his vocal protests. The older man promised to go easy, but Trevor’s ribs had to disagree.

Softly, as not to disturb the peaceful atmosphere, Aleks pushed open the door that lead to where Trevor was resting. He glanced around to see if anyone else was with him before stepping into the biting cold air. Trevor didn’t seem to notice until Aleks spoke up.

“Hey.”

Trevor lifted his head up to see Aleks slowly approach. He gave a small smile, which the Russian gladly returned. “Hey, man.”

“How’re you feeling? You took quite a beating back there.” Aleks gently spoke as he took a seat right beside Trevor. 

“Like shit. Brett really packs a punch. Guess I should’ve expected as much from the balding super-beast.”

Aleks chuckled a subdued laugh and briefly looked away. “Yeah, first time fighting him isn’t great. But, it gives you a taste of what you’ll deal with out there.”

“But I-” ‘don’t want to be a part of this’ were the words Trevor left unspoken. He stopped himself before admitting his fears to Aleks, afraid he’d use them as ammo for a joke later. “I’m just worried about that. Going out there, I mean. With you and the others.”

He couldn’t admit right then and there, but Aleks desperately wanted to protect Trevor from the dangers of the job. He deserved so much more, yet Aleks didn’t have the balls to help him without expressing his feelings. “I’m- I’m sure you’ll do just fine. Give it some time, and eventually you could be as skilled as the rest of us.”

The phrase ‘the rest of us’ hit Trevor hard. Those words only added onto his insecurities and feelings of inadequacy. He almost thought Aleks did it on purpose. Trevor’s face shifted slightly in shame, and turned away from the other man.

Aleks noticed the change in Trevor’s attitude, and instantly felt regret. He could tell that he hurt Trevor just with his words. That was the last thing Aleks ever wanted to do.

“Fuck, I’m sorry Trevor. I wasn’t even thinking-”

“Don’t worry about it, dude. It’s fine.”

Silence hung over the two men for what felt like hours. Aleks needed a way to quickly make it up to Trevor. “W-Well, I can tell you want to be left alone now. But…” He stood from his sitting position before removing his scarf. “It’s getting kinda cold out here. Don’t want ya getting sick or something.”

Trevor hesitated before reluctantly accepting the generous offer. “Thanks…”

“Want me to get you some hot chocolate, too? I could do that if you’d like.”

“Sure,” was the response Trevor gave as he wrapped the warm and fluffy scarf around his neck. “Just don’t spike it with anything.” He looked back just in time to see Aleks give a genuine smile and a thumbs-up before leaving the other man to his own devices.

The news the doctors had for Aleks when he awoke was certainly a welcome change of pace. They told him that the bullet miraculously didn’t pierce any vital organs, and that it was a relatively easy fix. Aleks felt the burling weight on his shoulders finally be lifted. Now he knew that Trevor was going to be okay. That he was going to be okay. The doctors even allowed him to stay with Trevor in his room as he recovered from surgery. The lights were dimmed, and the television was on for background noise. Aleks was leaned back into a spare chair, right beside Trevor’s bed. The doctors were also kind enough to lend a bag of ice for his black eye.

“You really had me worried back there, Trev.” Aleks spoke to no one in particular. It was more for him than anybody else. “I really thought that… you could’ve been gone. But you sure proved me wrong. I always knew you were a tough guy.”

Aleks shifted forward and rested his left hand on top of Trevor’s. “I’m not leaving your side, you know that right? When you wake up, I’ll be right here.”

He rubbed Trevor’s soft hand, a telling sign that he truly has no experience with rough work. He looked down at it, and observed the stark contrast between Trevor’s and his own calloused hands. He certainly has a long way to go, but Aleks resolves to be there for him every step of the way. No way in hell was he going to let Trevor down. After holding his hand for a few more moments, he took in a deep breath, preparing to finally open up emotionally and demonstrate a rare instance of vulnerability. He was ready for it; when Trevor wakes up, Aleks will tell him how he feels. No backing out now. Today could’ve been his last chance, and it only made him realize how much he wanted this.

As if right on cue, Aleks could feel Trevor’s hand shift slightly in his. His eyes widened with joy and tears of happiness began to collect in his eyes. “Trevor?”

It took a moment before Trevor could respond, his voice raspy and croaky but still lovely to Aleks’ ears. “A-Aleks? W-What happened…” He tried to sit up, but recoiled back in pain. “Ah, shit…”

“Woah, hey. You might want to take it easy. The drugs are still wearing off, and you don’t want to tear out your stitches right away.”

Trevor glanced around the room in search for something to look at until his eyes met Aleks’. “The hell happened to your face?”

Aleks gave a small chuckle before responding. “Oh, uh, I may have sort of… punched Asher.” Trevor’s eyebrows lifted at his statement. “It’s okay, though. He returned the favor.”

A low huff came from Trevor as he grinned ever so slightly. He glanced away briefly before coming right back to Aleks. He noticed tear streaks running down his cheeks, but chose not to say anything.

“Trevor, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you…” Aleks wasn’t going to back down now. He needed Trevor to know the truth. “I-I know this is a little sudden, but, today made me realize that I need to do this now. I… I really like you. I mean, you just mean so much to me, even since the day you first joined us. I know things are difficult right now, and that you don’t want to be a part of any of it, but we can get through this. Together.”

Trevor didn’t have much to say. He only looked at Aleks with soft eyes that showed him he was taking this seriously. That alone soothed Aleks’ nerves a bit as he continued. “As crazy as it may sound, it’s been like this for so long. I’ve just been too afraid to tell you until now. Almost losing you scared me beyond words, and I don’t think I can move on without at least giving you the truth. So…” Aleks placed his hand back on Trevor’s and squeezed it lightly.

“I love you.”

Aleks let Trevor absorb all the information, and waited patiently for a response. “That was… quite a lot, Aleks. I-I think…” He shifted his hand in such a way that allowed him to squeeze Aleks’ hand, as well.

“I think I’d be happy to have you by my side.”

No more words were spoken. Aleks beamed with happiness and relief, and allowed the tears to come down once again. Dropping the ice bag on the bed, he stood up and went to give Trevor a meaningful yet gentle hug. As his arms wrapped around the other man, Trevor couldn’t help but hug back. Both were content to remain in each other’s arms, for as long as they could.

#modesthd #cow chop #aleks marchant #trevor schmidty #aleks x trevor #anna x asher if you squint

[hellsangelsheavensrejects]

Present Day: Showdown in the Parking Lot

Blythe

"Wow, so not only do YOU stick around Wynonna, you're now also cool with having JOHN CONSTANTINE around? You know what that man does? He gets people killed. The fuck is it with you and that asshole anyway?"

Harry

“Oh, hey! You know what? I’ve been waiting around all day for some rando too cowardly to show their face to drop by and give unsolicited opinions on me and the people I choose to spend my time with. Congratulations, you’ve won the Dipshit Award!”

Blythe

“Gee, that's some epic level avoidance there. You should get a medal for that. Also, I'd pester Constantine, but he's got my number ... or more precisely my name. And he's a lot better with wards than you are. So, what is all this? Are you trying to get that girl of yours killed?“

Harry

“Do you really like playing pinata with a hornet’s nest so much, or are you just that stupid?” Every hair on Harry’s body was stood on end as he pivoted on his heels in the darkened parking lot, staff at the ready, searching for the source of the sinister voice. He didn’t like this one bit; whoever or whatever it was, it clearly had some personal agenda– or vendetta– it was attempting to fulfill. And if it was strong enough to get past the wards on his apartment, like it was hinting at…

He gave an exaggerated roll of his eyes. “This creeptastic voice throwing thing is getting old. How about you come out where I can see you? Then we can duke it out like mature adults and call it a night.”

Blythe

"Now, now, wizard. I was just trying to give you a friendly warning, is all.", the shadows between two of the trees lining the parking lot seem to solidify into a tall figure with a pale face. They cluck their tongue. "But really, what IS it with you and Constantine? I mean, beyond you clearly wanting to get in his pants. Don't worry, I get it."

Harry

“You and I must have vastly different definitions of the word ‘friendly,’“ Harry remarked. He narrowed his eyes as he watched the figure fade into view, and readied himself, reaching down into that deep well of anger, pain, heartbreak, and love to find his power.

“See, to me, ‘friendly’ is hanging out, getting a few beers, shooting the bull. This whole menacing stalker vibe you’ve got going on over there? Not really all that friendly.”

Blythe

The figure that steps from the shadows is tall and thin, unnaturally so. A long feathered boa around their shoulders only highlights their skeletal body. Their face is as pale as the moon above and they gift the wizard with a grin full of sharp teeth. Right underneath an array of six red, glittering eyes. "You really are good at avoiding answering questions. Deal with the Fae lot quite a bit, do you?"

Harry

Harry kept his eyes locked on the creature, sizing them up. A demon of some sort, probably– especially considering what he knew of John. Whoever and whatever this creature was, they very clearly had a history with Constantine, and probably had in mind a little payback.

He wasn’t going to make it easy for them.

A grin peeled his lips back, baring his teeth. “I deal with a lot of interesting folks. Always walked away from it; can’t always say the same about them, though. How about you, Skellington? Gonna keep pressing your luck?”

Blythe

The stranger came sauntering over and when they finally stepped into the full light of one of the few still functioning lights illuminating the parking lot, it became clear that the dull clack-clack-clack of their step did not come from heels, but from hooves. "That would be boring, though, wouldn't it? Ending it right here? Not when it could be SO beautifully painful for you. Or for little Johnny ConJob."

Harry

In all his years of wizarding, Harry had learned that there is always a moment of crystal clarity, an epiphany that lights up the mind and makes all the little details fall into place. It clarifies the plans of the bad guys, provides a blueprint for a counterattack, and, most unsettlingly, sheds light on his own choices, feelings, and proclivities.

This demon had seen something between Harry and John that Harry had not yet had the courage to name.

“My Id is probably yukking it up right now,” he muttered, then arched an eyebrow at the creature, bringing his staff to bear and readying his will. “You want pain, huh? Well, hey, if you insist. Have a blast with it. Fuego!”

Blythe

The fire lit up the demon, and for a moment it seemed to distort them. The feather boa turned into terrible wings and those already long, thin limbs grew longer and thinner. Hands elongating into razorsharp claws. And then the demon was gone. The magical fire the wizard had unleashed missed it's mark and rushed off into the darkness. There was silence and then, right behind Dresden: "Not fast enough. Tell John hello from Blythe." and then, those claws embedded themselves into the wizard's back.

Harry

The demon… changed… before his eyes, and then vanished. Harry spun, leading with his staff, trying to pinpoint his enemy before it could reappear and get the jump on him.

Which was exactly what it did.

As the razor-sharp claws tore deep into his skin, his one thought, accentuated by a furious, agonized scream, was that he desperately wished he’d gone for the extra protection of his spell-reinforced coat before leaving this evening, but the balmy summer temperatures had dissuaded him of the notion.

Lips peeling back into a snarl, he took his staff in both hands and slammed it into the ground hard enough to break a hole in the pavement, then with a shouted word sent a burst of force lashing through the staff and into the ground, enough to– he hoped– knock them both off their feet and give him a chance to wrench free.

Blythe

The demon Blythe laughed, dodging the blow of the staff with supernatural ease. They seemed to have been caught off guard, however, when a wave of energy expanded from the impact of said staff and threw them backwards. Snarling, Blythe caught themselves on all four, three pairs of eyes blazing with hellish fire. "I will eat your soul in front of Constantine!", they threatened and threw themselves back at Dresden.

Harry

Cold fury erupted through him at the demon’s next mention of Constantine, and the pain of his wounds melted away into so much background noise. It had occurred to him before that he knew precious little about the man’s past. About the demons– both figurative and, apparently, literal– that haunted him. He hadn’t pressed for details, and had volunteered precious few of his own.

But this creature, whatever its history with John, clearly had one hell of a hard-on for hurting him. And that…

That was not okay.

Not even a little bit.

(He tried not to think about what that might mean)

(It meant Constantine was his, and he’d be damned if he’d let this demonic stick bug harm him in any way)

As the demon hurled itself at Harry, he swung his staff to bear again and snarled, “Here, have an appetizer on me. Infriga!” A roar of wind kicked up, punctuated by a flash of glittering light, and the air rippled and cracked with a broad swathe of mist-shrouded frost.

Blythe

Pain in the air, the taste of blood and Blythe could feel their gut twist with pleasure.

Oh, they knew that anger.

Their sources were correct, then. John Constantine had gotten himself entangled with this … Dresden character.

And what a character he was. Half of Fairy was having a hardon for the man and Hell? Oh, Hell was just jonesing for his soul.

Blythe, however? Blythe was just here to have a little fun on John’s expense. Maybe start a little collection down in Hell? Oh, wouldn’t that be fun? They’d string up Dresden right beside what was left of sweet Oliver. And then, then they’d get the one with The Gun, too.

And they’d make John watch.

His own personal Hell on earth.

But first … They saw the spell coming this time. The staff might direct his power, but it was also telegraphing Dresden’s intentions and Blythe pushed themselves out of the direct path of the incoming power. The edges of it still stung like a hundred knives to their skin.

They laughed.

“Too slow. Again.”, they admonished with a little click of their tongue. A tongue, that they wrapped around their blood stained finger. Only to draw back with a hiss, swallowing the astringent sweetness of fairymagic. “Oh, now that’s interesting!”

Once again, they cloaked themselves in shadow, pulling darkness around them, before reaching for the threads of magic around them. Long fingers knitted into a complicated pattern and when they stepped back into the half-light of the parking lot, barely a step away from Dresden, the power of their own spell released.

It took hold of the staff and yanked, hard, giving Blythe an opportunity to step into Dresden’s space, almost like a lover into a waiting embrace. The way Blythe wrapped their arms around the man furthered that illusion until their claws dug into the muscle beside his shoulderblades, holding him in place.

“Just a little lovebite.”, they quipped and dragged their tongue along Dresden’s face before sinking needle sharp teeth into the soft tissue of his throat.

Harry

Stars and stones, this demon moved fast, even when it wasn’t doing its little disappearing trick. Harry was faster and stronger, both magically and physically, than he’d ever been before, but he was having a devil of a time keeping up with the creature’s feints and attacks.

Case in point: the demon appeared in front of him, divested him of his staff in one smooth, distressingly powerful yank, and wound its arms around him in an almost sensual embrace. Harry tried to jerk back, about to quip something about the creature not being his type, but then he felt the sudden, burning agony of claws burying themselves into his back again as the demon locked itself to him.

Panic, fed by a growing, dreadful awareness of inevitability, lanced through him. He hissed through his teeth and tried to wrench free, grasping ineffectually at the demon’s bony arms. “Get off!” he snarled, bucking and thrashing against the arms holding him in place. He could feel the muscles near his shoulder blades tearing around the demon’s claws. “Get the fuck off!”

A lascivious slide of the demon’s tongue across his face made him reflexively jerk his head to the side, giving the monster a clear line to his throat. He realized his mistake a microsecond too late– though to be fair, there was probably little he could have done to avoid what happened next.

The demon’s fangs sank deep.

Stars exploded through his vision, and he convulsed, limbs flailing in a futile attempt to dislodge his attacker. Time seemed to bend around him, and his awareness warped. He felt something warm spurting down his neck, soaking through his shirt, and, inanely, a string of facts he had learned long ago began to drift through his mind.

The average human body holds about four-and-a-half to five-and-a-half liters of blood. He was taller than average, so he would have more than that, though he had never actually taken the time to do the math, so he couldn’t cite an actual number. Death by exsanguination could occur after the loss of half to two-thirds of your blood.

And he was bleeding fast. Weakening. He could already feel the dizziness beginning to set in, pulse fluttering, limbs going leaden, cold creeping through his body. He wasn’t even sure if he was still upright. Was the demon still with him? He wasn’t sure if that would even have made a difference.

He was going to die.

He was going to die, and… he’d had so much that he’d wanted to say. To Wynonna. How deep his feelings really went for her, the extremes he would go to for her. To John. How he was ready to face, to embrace the confused maelstrom of feelings that erupted in him whenever he was near.

He was going to die, and he wasn’t going to be able to tell them.

#arc: Whiskey Gunpowder and Magic #Present Day #Post Cold Days #Showdown in the Parking Lot #expatfromhell #to be continued... #Discord RP archives